#i told ya'll I'd get to it

[summertimemusician]

WIP Snippet of the First x Prisoner Reader Vision I've Had Recently

It was dark, as it had been for a long time now.

How long has it been, since he was thrown into this dark cell with accusations of treachery and left to rot? 

Days?

Weeks?

Months?

(He didn’t entertain the possibility of years. It slithers and bites cold and cruel like the metal around his wrists, it hisses mockingly in his ears like the demon’s, like snakes twining over his throat.

If he did, he’d think of Orville, of a demon desperately wanting to be granted rest, of deity’s with pale eyes and summer sunlight hair of golden Hylian wheat fields and blue skies. Of a world outside the prison cell.

He can’t afford to falter now, would not give the lord the satisfaction of thinking he’d successfully tamed a lion.)

It was quiet in the dark, if he did not move, nothing but his own breathing and the dizzying, choking dread over what he still saw every time he closed his eyes, over the threat of furious tempest and the burning greed stoking the flames of malice. His perceived betrayal and the injustice of being defanged when his only wish was to protect his people was more agonizing than any wound inflicted on him on the day of his imprisonment, festered like the untreated cuts and bruises, burning through his mind constantly like the tight strain of the chains, digging and pulling into at what was once strong flesh.

The silent isolation could drive any man insane, only stubbornness and determination kept him strong.

…

Suddenly, something changed, enough to make him stir, head hung low but ears twitching with interest. A familiar sound that made him bare his teeth with the most minute of flinches.

Shouting.

Angry yells and outraged howls, the type belonging more to a wild fox’s throat than that of a human’s.

Yelling was never a promising portent.

The metallic screech of an old rusted door being opened reverberated through the dungeon halls, thankfully not his own, a voice’s strangled cry cuts through the silence, more pain than rage, punctuated by the indifferent snapping of cold, twining chains and the slam of the prison cell’s entrance giving it a sense of finality.

‘... Why would someone else…?’

What kind of deeds did his apparent cell neighbor commit to get locked in the most deserted part of this place? He knew there was a cell by the side of his own, from what little he could recall before being imprisoned himself, but it made no measure of sense to chain someone else nearby.

(He knew what the lord was doing, keep him quiet after he'd spoken up about the threat, keep him isolated, drive him mad, slowly but surely chipping away at his will to live-

Even if he was released, who would believe the words of a madman?)

Link thought about his own circumstances, of how he had been branded of ill mind and opportunistic intentions, and ultimately decided it did not matter. 

After all, his motives didn't matter either.

Soon enough there was banging on the metallic doors, then cursing, then yowling, then hoarse cries, and then nothing as the silence returned once more to stifle the atmosphere with its oppressive, suffocating weight. Clamping down like a lynel’s fangs upon his mind again.

Link’s ears twitched as he briefly flinched into consciousness, shuddering from both the deep aching in his bones and the cold of the cell, something whispering beneath the silence of the cell. It was subtle, a quiet little clink, clink, clink against the walls like a bird sharpening their beak on stone, his eyes snapped open, eyes darting about the darkness, squinting and straining his ears, the chains rattled with the suddenness of the movement and he gritted his teeth as each muscle screamed in protest, almost gagging at the metallic sweet smell mixing with the sourness of old sweat and the stale air of the cell. He really didn't want to dislocate one of his shoulders again, once was enough.

Link closes his eyes, and sends a quiet prayer for his fellow wayward soul. 

...

At first, he thought he imagined it. He couldn't hear the firm footfalls of the guards, the main indication of their patrol routes, nor the confident stride and rankling jewelry of the lord, and he was sure his cellblock companion had gone silent after a quite a few possible weeks of putting up one impressive fight, he doubted they would have left anything much for them to work with.

(If his lips curved a little at the blood coating the lord’s fine sleeves after one of his visits, well, that was between him, the darkness and the goddesses, if they were listening at all.)

And still, the sound persisted, clink, clink, clink.

Then-

Clack.

He lifted his head with a wince, it throbbed but Link couldn't care less about it, he had to find the source of the sound. He squinted at the wall, finally hearing something new, the clanking of heavy chains and heavy, strained breathing, a voice growling in aggravation and strain, raspy in a way he was sure his own would match. A scraping against stone.

“Well… Not much of a breeze from there, great.”

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry as lightning lanced through his spine, a tension seizing his frame, the words came out before he could fully process them, “...Apologies to disappoint.”

“Oh goddesses-” There was a faint sound like something being dropped and the clanking of the chains alongside a faint, muffled thud.

“No goddesses to be found, not here. Just me.” He spoke, some amusement creeping into his voice.

A pause, the faint shifting of metal on stone, and then, “... Did you just- no, nevermind that, this is-” A faint, incredulous chuckle, teetering on the cliff of hysterics, still, they had a nice laugh and suddenly, Link briefly wondered what the shape of a smile would look like on their face, “I know this is probably an awful thing to say, stranger, but it’s so, so nice to know there’s someone else in this awful place other than that pretentious jerk.”

“The lord?” He inquired, more of a statement than anything else.

“That’s the one.” They confirmed, no small amount of bitterness coated their voice with the same sharpness found in the thorns of briars, “Barely a full year in the kingdom, and he’s got his people hauling me to the slammer.” They scoffed, their worn down voice carrying quietly through his cell, “And here I thought Hylia’s people subscribed to her ideology that all life is to be preserved and just judgment above all, guess the joke’s on me.”

Link hangs his head in resignation, something like loathing scraping at his throat, trickles of guilt swallowed down like blood, “... As someone once in his servitude, I offer my apologies on behalf of my people.”

“Oh.” The voice exclaimed, shifting in place, before speaking hesitantly, “Hey now, you don’t have to apologize. It’s got nothing to do with you, the idiocy of one man shouldn’t fall on your shoulders”

A part of Link would like to differ, maybe, just maybe, if he was still free then, he could have done something, anything to help. The prisoner’s howls still ring in his ears.

Remembering his own predicament makes him hold his tongue. If he couldn't even convince the lord that what he saw was the truth, he doubted he would actually succeed

“So…” They start, his ears flick at the light, metallic click, from the corner of his eye, he sees a piece of the wall fall away from a very subtle crack, the shattered stone dropping against the ground of the cell, mixing with the dark stains of old blood, “You seem like a decent enough guy, and you don't sound too hot there so I won't ask what you're in for, care to give me something to call you other than stranger? I'll give you my name in return. Doesn't look like we're going anywhere any time soon, may as well get used to one another.”

He blinked slowly, taking a deep, trembling breath.

When was the last time someone had treated him with any shred of sympathy? When was the last time he had someone to talk to?

(The lord didn't count, it was less a conversation and more so being talked at, urged like some sort of reluctant pet, degraded like a feral dog-

“Take it back.” The lord had spoken, his face impassive and eyes cold, as one of the guards held his head in a grip hard enough to rip the hair from his skull, he hisses, both from the concussion, his back open like a blooming flower and from the blood dripping into his eye and down his cheek like a faux tear, “You may have failed me, may have consorted with demons and dared to renounce our golden goddess' mercy. But so long as you agree to say that all you've told me is a lie, I'll let you go. You will live a normal life, all of your blasphemies will be forgiven.”

He gritted his teeth, it would be so, so easy. It was always that easy.

Except he remembered the thing he sealed in that mask, that even it seemed afraid of what was to come. How it shrieked and yowled and screamed and roared and pleaded to either be slain or sent back to where it belonged just so it would avoid getting involved. Of having nightmares of the sky set aflame for as long as he could remember, of a man with pale hair and crimson garments cackling as he tore his comrades limb from limb, of a woman with golden hair and impossibly seating sapphire screaming with the sound of shrieking birds behind her voice as crystalline wings were torn from her back by a man with hair the color of the fires of war, eyes alight with fury and hate-

He spits at the lord’s feet, snarling like the lion he was often compared to.

“Never.”)

What did he have to lose as he was now, defanged and declawed?

“Link.”

(You pause from the other side of the wall, freezing in place. The short, rusty dagger you had nicked from one of the guards scratching violently against stone as your broken hand shakes, an already unsteady grip sustained only through spite and desperation made lax with shock.

Link, says the man on the other side of the wall. The man whose voice is like gravel, like ashes after a forest fire, but still kind, a little awkward but who immediately apologized for something for harm he didn't even inflict upon you.

You had hoped the Hylia and Hyrule thing were coincidence at best , but now-

Mentally screaming into your own mind, you give him your name, the knobs of your spine prickling with a cold other than the metal collar around your neck.)

[peanutrat20]

oh look, boy

[jungle-angel]

Four Generations (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Imagine everybody's surprise when four generations of Floyd men suddenly show up at the base one day and Jake's shock that Bob has a wife

Warnings: Pregnancy, parenthood, the Floyd men definitely fuck, Bob's mom is a MILF etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @floydsglasses @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @callmemana @attapullman

"Dumbest training exercise ever!" Natasha groaned.

"And of course this is where our fuckin taxpayer dollars are going," Rooster complained.

"At least it's over and we can go home," Hangman told them.

"Yo guys, check this out," Coyote said suddenly.

The sight of two older men making their way up the tarmac with a small, bespectacled child came into view. Beside them was a very obviously pregnant young lady, no doubt the mother of the child that one of the men carried.

"Who the hell are they?" Natasha wondered.

"Beats me," Rooster answered. "Maybe somebody's relatives?"

The four of them caught sight of Bob, still in his flight suit, hurrying to meet them. The younger of the two men set the small child right down on the ground, the little guy running right to Bob who scooped him up and threw him into a fit of giggling.

"No.......fucking.......way......." Hangman chuckled.

"So does that mean.......?"

"Yep," Natasha laughed.

Bob soon made his way over with the small group, smiling at the bemused faces of his fellow pilots. "Ya'll look confused," he said to them.

"I just.......we didn't think that......" Coyote stammered.

"What?" Bob chuckled. "That it was just me?"

The sheepish looks on their faces said it all.

"Well," Bob said. "Maybe this is the time for introductions. This is my dad, my grandpa and my lovely, lovely wife (y/n). And this little guy, is August Robert."

The four pilots were surprised to say the least, Bob's father and grandfather? A wife and kids? Bob had never talked about any of them before.

As soon as the day was done, everyone had met at The Hard Deck for dinner and a beer. Getting to know each other had been interesting to say the least.

"You Goose's kid?" Joe Floyd asked him.

"Yes sir," Rooster replied.

"I used to fly with your old man," Joe explained. "Flew with Mav and Iceman and all the rest of'em, callsign 'was 'Rabbit'."

"Why'd they call you Rabbit?" Natasha asked.

"Take a guess," Bob chuckled, munching on his fries.

"Bob's Ma and I already had a mess of kids by the time I was stationed out here," Joe explained. "I'd get back from a deployment and the next thing I knew, she'd tell me she was pregnant. Starting to think the boy's taking after me."

Everyone laughed but Bob was blushing with embarrassment. "How many siblings does he have?" Natasha asked.

"Eight," Joe said with a shit eating grin. "Four boys, four girls. Bob's the youngest."

"Jeez Bob!" Hangman exclaimed.

"Oh that's nothing," (y/n) told him. "Lowell, which one is Joe again?"

"Seventh of thirteen," Lowell answered with a laugh.

"WOAH!!!"

"Jeez!"

"Holy shit!"

"Yep, his Ma and I had thirteen," Lowell laughed.

A woman walked into the bar, catching the eyes of the Daggers, her white sundress swishing against her knees and a denim jacket tied around her waist. Joe got up to meet her, placing a chaste kiss right on her lips.

Coyote was the next to get up, asking to see Bob in private for a minute. The two of them slipped into the men's room where hopefully no one would hear them.

"Dude ya'll didn't tell me your mom was a MILF!!!" he whispered sharply.

"And why would I tell you that?" Bob questioned.

"Bro ya'll could've warned us!" Coyote told him. "I was not expecting to get half a stiff at the dinner table when she walked in."

"AW FUCK! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!" Bob exclaimed.

"I'm sorry dude."

"Man that's my mom!!!!" Bob groaned in disgust. "You're a sick motherfucker Javy."

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

When everyone had finished and were heading home for the night, you and Bob buckled Auggie into his little carseat and made your way home.

"Did he really?" you asked when Bob told you about the bathroom conversation.

"Oh yeah, it was pretty gross," Bob chuckled.

You laughed. "I know your mom well enough," you told him. "She's sweet and innocent and all, but man. I remember when you and I got married and she gave me so much info that I thought she was Stifler's Mom."

You and Bob laughed the whole way home, Auggie still asleep in the back and your unborn son kicking away in your belly. You were glad to have met the rest of the Daggers, hoping with all hope that the family bonds would deepen and become unbreakable.

[haunting-hufflepuffs-basement]

You know, I'm discovering that half the appeal of jegulus for me is that it forces rosekiller and james to interact in a non-antagonistic way. And that dynamic is soooo fun. I need more. Like. Just some highlights for ya'll:

Evan: Great. You don't want Regulus to die. We don't want Regulus to die. Now we just have to make sure REGULUS doesn't want Regulus to die.

James: Fantastic, but have you met Regulus?

Barty, kicking down James door: POTTER!

James: What the HELL are you doing in here? Scratch that HOW the hell did you get in here?

Barty: Regulus told me, now WHERE ARE YOU GETTING YOUR BOOZE?

Regulus: James. You know how you said you'd do anything for me? Well. . .how much did you mean that?

James: With my whole heart. Anything. What do you need?

Regulus: Evan?

Evan: We need you to find Barty. He went into one of his fits of exam-stress-induced madness and he's been missing for three days.

James, suspicious that Reg blabbed about the map: Okay, why do you think I'd know where he is?

Evan: Because when you and Regulus were in your painful pining phase you were somehow able to avoid us AND stalk him everywhere. I don't know how you know where everyone is all the time, I just know you're doing it somehow. If you can't find him, I'll have to assume he finally made good on his threat to fling himself into the lake.

James: Is? Is this a recurring problem for you?

Evan: OH, and you've NEVER lost track of YOUR boyfriend OR your best friend because they were spiralling and have a complex from their shitty upbringing?

James: . . . Point taken. Give me 5 minutes.

Evan: *grabs James in the hallway and slams him against a wall*

Barty: Alright Potter, start talking!

James: Dammit you two! You know you can just ASK Regulus how it went after we go on a date, right? He'd probably be thrilled to tell you! Don't you two keep complaining about how much he won't shut up about me?

Evan: EXACTLY. If we encourage him, then we'll REALLY never hear the end of it. Now, did you do the thing we told you about?

James: the praise thing? Yeah, he reacted really well. Which you'd know if you ASKED REGULUS!

Barty: See, what did I tell you? He loves it! See you same time next week Potter!

James, yelling after them as they leave: I STILL WANNA KNOW HOW YOU FOUND OUT ABOUT THAT BY THE WAY!

Evan: NO YOU DON'T!

Idk, I'm a sucker for not quite friends James and Rosekiller. I need more.

[osachiyo]

⊹ note. . .stole this idea from my wife's thoughts :( so sorry stinky but it was too hot− you are truly a genius <3 ya'll she did one here so go check hers out as well !!! >:( | no warnings, it's pretty straightfoward− you ride kolya's face with clown makeup on <3 kolya eats ass btw he told me (mdni)

↓ divider is by @/cafekitsune !! :D

you finally pulled away from your boyfriend− the clownish makeup suiting him perfectly. it was totally his style too, and he loved it. though you will say, the process of actually putting the makeup on him was quite....exhausting. he kept touching random products and asking you stupid questions like−

"hey- baby, what does this do?" he was holding up a container of concealer, pumping some out and rubbing it on his hands like soap. you quickly snatched the bottle away from him− facepalming as he sniffed his hand and looked up at you with a grin. "don't waste the product, kolya! this was like− 30 dollars!" you scolded, putting it away from his reach. nikolai only pouted before sitting still and letting you resume your work.

yeah, that was very irritating but whatever, right? at least the suffering was worth the final product. god, did he look like the most handsome clown ever− towering over you with a malicious grin as he slowly backed you up against the wall. "my my, what a pretty lady we have here? why has such a beauty like you come to this humble clown?" ugh, was he really getting into character right now? whatever, you figured it would be fun to play along, right?

"well, mister clown, I wanted to see what tricks you have up those sleeves of yours~" you spoke slowly, feigning innocence as you gave him your best doe-eyes, getting on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around the so called "clown's" neck− his lips stretching to reveal a downright maniacal grin as he gripped your waist, "oh my ! well, I'd be glad to show you a very... special trick of mine.."

and that's how you ended up seated comfortably on nikolai's face− him being nose deep into your gushing cunt as you gripped the headboard. "f-fuck− kolya! feels so good.." you babbled, basically humping his face− the lipstick you put on him earlier now completely smudged, some of it even stained your inner thighs− and of course on your pretty little clit.

he didn't tease− nor did he want to this time, much to your surprise. and who were you to complain when his tongue was buried deep inside of you? his pointy nose nudging your clit as he devoured you like his very last meal on earth. his hands were grabbing the plush globes of your ass− fingernails digging into the soft fat which were for sure to leave marks the following morning.

"s-shit− doll," he moaned into your cunt, eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he went drunk from your taste. you tasted like the sweetest ambrosia to him and god, was it nasty how his tongue pulled out of your pussy to lick at your puckered hole− a squeal leaving your mouth at the new sensation. your hips were shaking at this point, nails digging into the hard wood of your bedpost and leaving small indents. kolya only snickered at your reaction before going back to slurp at your cunt.

you felt borderline intoxicated by the feeling of his tongue pushing in and out− nose repeatedly brushing against your swollen clit and something in you finally snapped.

nikolai let out a guttural groan when you grabbed a fistful of his snowy hair before grinding down on his face. his eyes widened momentarily at your bold move, slurping your juices with even more ferocity and eagerness− he was desperate to have you cum all over his mouth.

and you did, squirting all over his face with a broken moan leaving your plump lips− your lover happily gulping down everything you had to offer.

you finally got off his face once he was done cleaning you up, and god was he drenched. nikolai's face was flushed down to his neck, the makeup completely ruined− leaving him looking utterly debauched. a sleazy grin splayed on his swollen red lips but his eyes held mischief, "didn't expect you to squirt f'me, sweetheart. should've done this ages ago."

"yeah, yeah− lets clean up now, hm?" you sighed, running a hand through your mess of a ponytail. "oh, but we haven't even gone to the good part yet~" he pouted, wrapping his arms around you as he buried his face into your neck, breathing in your scent.

"I'll suck you o−!" you got cut off by your own yelp when nikolai picked you up by the back of your knees− your back flush against his heaving chest.

"nuh uh, dove. i'm gonna fuck you and fill you up till i'm satisfied.." he laughed, slapping the tip of his cock against your sensitive cunt.

"after all.. you wanted to see what tricks this clown has up his sleeves, right?"

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

TAGS »»————> @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @lxverss @lynxxyyy @nanamibeloved

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[darlingofvalyria]

❝I am not a Valyrian Sex God.❞

part 03 | pucker up, buttercup

chapter summary:

[ The line of friendship dances in uncertain waters when you and Aemond play the fake dating game a little too well. Helaena reveals much more than meets the eye to Aegon, and vice versa. Oh, and Alys. Hi Alys! ]

[ 5,399 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— mostly fluff, a wee bit angsty, a little smutty - profanity, i swear a lot sorry too shhshs - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— thank you so much for the love this little fic is getting so far!! it truly warms my heart that you people enjoy my twisty, crackpot humour and my version of a modern au for these characters!! as much as i am grateful for george for making these characters and these stories, i have to say what propelled me to write is the beautiful community i found. truly, from the bottom of my heart. ❥ fandom is built on community. i would not have had the courage to start writing fanfiction again if not for ya'll. so thank you so much. for the consumers and the creators. you, us, are the beating heart of fandom. please take care of each other. + comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

"Please tell me I haven't inhaled so much drugs in my system that I am hallucinating our— and I say this with a lot love, okay you know what? No. Our Nasty Little Bitch of A Grudge Holder we call, lovingly, a brother, is not dating the hottest friend you have? Hel? The hottest friend you told me if I ever came anywhere near, you'd rip me a new asshole? How is Aemond's asshole still intact?? Or does our brother just have a gaping fun-house slide down there? Hello? Hellooo, pay attention to meee. This is so rude, why didn't I call Daeron?"

"Because Daeron knows nothing and I know everything?" Hel snorts, finishing up re-naming Aemond's contact from CURRENT DUMB BRO to NASTY LITTLE BITCH OF A GRUDGE HOLDER, before turning to Aegon on her laptop.

Like she predicted, Aegon is already pouting, leaning back on what Helaena remembers is their grandfather's rum-coloured leather office chair. In his office. In Oldtown.

After a quick stint in Ibiza, it seems Helaena's brother had found himself back in the country, and worse— back in their grandfather's office. Without him in it.

"Grandpa's going to kill you." Helaena snorts. "How'd you even get inside his house?"

"This is not the first time I have been faced with a locked door, baby sister."

"You broke a window didn't you?"

"I really, really had to piss."

She rolls her eyes. Hard. "You are a boy. You can literally just pee anywhere."

Aegon flutters a gasp and a hand over his chest. "Excuse me? I may have a penis, but that does not mean I have to be uncouth. For shame, Helaena. Also disgusting. But that's not why I called." He steeples his fingers as he leans forward, pressing his elbows against the nice mahogany desk. "What the fuck is happening over there? I'll be there by tomorrow and I'd like to know what the fuck is happening before I start—" he wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, " — shaking things up."

A dark look crosses Helaena's usually amiable pretty face that has Aegon leaning back. "If you do anything— and I mean anything — to ruin what I have going on, Mother may help you for I certainly won't. The Stranger will look like an old friend, Egg, don't you fucking dare."

"What the fuck," Aegon exhales, wide-eyed and horrified. "Have you been watching M. Night Shyamalan movies again?"

"No," she lies. "I'm doing this for my OTP."

 "Oh my god, you're the one who roped them together?" Aegon strangles a sigh. "Lae-lae, we've talked about this. No matter how much you think they're cute, Aemond—"

"— Aemond and Alys broke up."

"Then they'll be together again before the weekend's out." Aegon rolls his eyes. "It's Aemond."

"Not like this." Hel shakes her head. "I got her to agree, Egg. And they're like... Gods, the pictures don't do them justice. They're magnetic. They make plans at the apartment, Aemond is there all the time— my OTP is happening."

"You are playing god between two people you care about."

"What else am I supposed to do?! They're obviously so hot for each other, and now that Alys is out of the picture, and she's there, right in front of him, Egg, you should see how it is between them. The energy. It's crackling. They have inside jokes, they're so comfortable with each other, and I will have the most beautiful nephew and niece—"

"—Helaena Targaryen," Aegon admonishes with finality. Hel quiets. Often times, the siblings forget Aegon is quintessentially the oldest sibling. They had never been close to their father's actual firstborn— the age gap is wide and there's just... too much complicated family fissures in between that it feels awkward, even when they're relationship is okay, to interact or consider Rhaenyra anything past a cousin you see every other holiday because you have to, much less now that their father's dead — so Aegon is their big brother.

And though they see it in bits, in flung comet pieces that you see preciously once every few hundred years— the vibe of big brother grasps the edges and reminds the younger siblings.

Sure, he's a dick. Sure, he's a whore. Sure, he's their mother's least and most favourite headache— but Aegon is their big brother.

"You cannot play puppeteer like this. This can blow up in their faces. And they care for each other. Their friends. If this blows up in their faces, it is going to hurt."

"I know that," Helaena says quietly, pout pinched but face mostly cleared. "You don't think I don't know?"

"I think you've already outweighed your chances and your choosing a possibility."

Helaena looks truly scolded at that point, and it juts a guilt down Aegon's stomach. But Aegon likes you. Maybe not like in the way that his brother likes you— in that intense, possessive way he gets with people and things he care about because there are so few of them — but he likes you. And he loves Aemond on a bad day, and likes him on a good one.

And Aegon knows, as a superior power about crashing and burning, that this is going to hurt both of you in ways that he truly doesn't think Helaena understands.

Because he isn't blind (as his brother) (bad joke?) (probably) to what he sees in Aemond's gaze when it looks at you. Sure it's possessive, sure it's the same way he looks at most people he keeps close to his heart.

But he was the one who saw how Aemond looked at you before Alys came into the picture. Before it morphed into nothing but platonic; morphed close to how he looks at Helaena. In that soft, I'm So Glad This Person Exists I Would Kill Literally Everyone For Them.

Aegon always thought he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. Etch you into his skin until your shape is in red marks across white plane. He looked at you like I Would Kill Myself If You Asked.

It was the possibility of devotion dipped in insanity. Aemond had so few things, much less people, who so vocally, physically, and emotionally cared for him without addendums.

The only real reason he never did anything before was because you were Helaena's best friend. Helaena loved you. And he couldn't destroy that alongside the fact that you might leave his side.

And then Alys happened and that focal point moved.

Aegon knew his brother. Not as intensely, and maybe that's the reason he could see it. To see clearly past the intensity and recognise its edges. Aegon knew his brother in his marrow.

"When this crashes and burns—"

"If!" Helaena quips stubbornly. "If it crashes and burns. Come home. You'll see, Egg. Aemond just needs to see."

"And what if she doesn't reciprocate, Lae-lae? She's not hard to love, and this is Aemond." Even Helaena knows his feelings, once taken root in whatever form, can blossom.

Helaena smiles softly. "Come home. You'll see. I can see it. I've seen it. The possibility of them, and it's so pretty, Egg."

It's really not all that pretty, fake dating.

Maybe it could be, but Aemond Targaryen is such an ass.

"This is not like The Devil Wears Prada fashion montage," you grumble, pinching off the big, 60s, yellow sunglasses off your nose to glare pointedly at the man sat on lounge chair. "All the zippers and tugging— this is not as pretty! And I look ridiculous! I don't wear dresses like these, Aemy!"

"You don't look ridiculous, you look like my girlfriend." He makes his emphasis with an inch raised eyebrow and pouty lips twitching not to laugh. "That's the point, is it not?"

You make a drawl huff. It's not just that his words were right— that's what the past hour has been, roaming around all these big named fashion brands where the staff just knows Aemond Targaryen, if not just by him sauntering in with all the swagger of an asshole you'd walk the other side of the street to ignore, then by the flash of his black card (or three, 'cause what the fuck is money to Targaryens holy shit) — but the way he's sitting as he appraises every look he's chosen for you.

He's lax, as could be in his usually perfect posture, with his hips in the middle, and one leg braced down whilst the other is raised to his other thigh. A confident man's sitting position, with an arm over the length of the sofa, balancing a champagne a trying-to-suppress-her-giddiness staff gave him.

At your disapproved glare— down on your nose at him because you're standing over him, lording over him, as he's sitting down — and he's smirking up at you. As if the power dynamics don't shift by whoever is looming over the other.

Aemond doesn't need to stand to make you feel all fluttery with a smirk and a strong gaze against your body. His eyes gaze from the bottom of your heeled toes, slow, slow, slow, until it reached the top of your head.

Surely you've only imagined his gaze lingering on certain parts of you that now felt hot and tingly.

Surely.

"Plus," he continues with a hum. A sip of champagne. "Isn't this your idea?"

"Yes, but—"

"Didn't you tell me that I should prepare the kind of outfits that Aemond Targaryen's girlfriend would wear—"

 "Yes, but I—"

He leans forward, taking pleasure in arguing with you, as he settles his elbows on his knees, pressing both of his feet flat on the tile. He's looking up, still, but his eyes are intense and the corner of his mouth is twitching from a grin he's trying to fight.

"And even when I told you that didn't matter, that whatever you wore would be fine, you insisted?"

"Because I thought it'd be fun!" you growl and he falls in faint, amused laughter. His eye is sparkling and there's a joy to him that makes you giddy. You truly have missed Aemond as you know him. "Because I wanted a fun dress-up montage, but nothing about this is fun! Why are you choosing so many goddamned zippers, and they're all so fucking tight?"

You plop beside him, stealing his champagne. Staff look away, trying not to ogle too much between you two. As you take sips of his drink, his hand, still over the sofa's arm, begin drawing idle circles on your exposed shoulders. It warms you and calms you down, melting further in the seat beside him.

"I liked the dresses," he finally murmurs. "The ones before this. The flowy fabric ones."

"Those are summer dresses," you say though don't know why.

"Hm," he hums. "You look pretty in them."

You look up at him and he's looking at you, a small smile on his face. The proximity is too near to be proper but not near enough if you're fake dating. You study his silver lashes and the scarred flesh.

"Thanks."

"We'll get them. Is that alright with you?"

You snort softly. "You're paying, Aemy. You can do whatever you want. Can't believe this is how your dates with Alys usually went."

Hatching plans meant unloading information about his former relationship with her. Going through their relationship so you could understand it better, better proportioned the good and the bad, and secretly, make him see the red flags that should jump out in clear, plastic red.

"Not at first." He's looking away now, but his finger is still drawing circles. There's a wistful tone to his voice, like seeing through a dream and a memory. "But when it got... bad, it seemed like the only time we weren't fighting was when we were in public. Almost subconsciously, whenever things got tensed, I'd offer to take us out. Do anything outside of our bubble. Money isn't an issue, and before Alys said she felt like a... cheap whore than a girlfriend, buying things for her, spending time looking through things to wear, to match almost, was safe."

"Gift Giving," you mutter with a nod. He turns.

"What was that?"

"A love language." He cocks his head. You sigh. "I mean it's stupid and not really theoretically accurate, but for fun, there's five types of love languages. People do this test thing and sort of box up the kind of love language you want to receive and what you give— but truly, in my opinion, a true kind of love demands all five for it to work."

He hums, intrigued. "And what are the five?"

"Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, Acts of Service, Gift Giving. But, you know, all of those should be given by a partner, in increments they can do for you. There shouldn't be a boxed fixture of what your relationship could be."

You shrug, standing up and stretching. You don't see him looking at you in the way that he has been for the past few days, and he doesn't know the tingles and feelings you keep between a smile and a sigh.

"Love looks different for everyone but it should have the same concept."

"And what concept is that?"

You turn to him, smiling. "That if you truly love someone, you can try anything. Love doesn't demand things that you do for the simple reason that you love the person enough."

"Love can be complicated," he says, and he's not arguing, not really. He isn't begging for you to understand. He is simply saying.

"Love can," you agree. "As most things are complicated. But it doesn't have to hurt."

It's a boundary line, the way he blinks, remembering why you're here together, why he gets to touch you in intimate ways, why he gets to pay for clothes, why you spend this time with him. A jolt. A shock.

You don't press and he doesn't retreat. The line exists not just to remind, but to stabilise any projections. Any dangerous tones.

You simply smile, nodding at the time. "Dinner date, babycakes. We can't be late for reservations."

"We can be late for a few minutes," he says, remembering echoes of how Alys sometimes got late. It isn't really her fault; there are days when she's too busy at the law firm, too busy with a meeting or two, or still finishing up her makeup because she doesn't like going to dinner in her work clothes.

"Sure, but we're here together and I know how much you hate being late." You snort.

"I don't hate it."

"Sure, but you got that eye twitch you do when you're annoyed," you tease, tapping your own eye before you wink at him and skip away.

For the past few days since the bar incident, by your suggestion, you and Aemond had pour out the intricacies of how Aemond and Alys' relationship worked whilst hiding your true intention of making him see its faults and corners, and at the same time, continue on with the charade of dating him.

It's been a packed week or so, going to your shifts at the bar, meeting with Cregan once and a while (boy had been busy, and he found the entire thing with Aemond incredibly hilarious).

You answered no question mark in regards on who the hand was, only sent a winky face or a kiss blowing emoji. You continue to post minute representations of your no-longer-single status in brief intervals, making sure that you never name him. You never publicly give him a recognisable body.

But for those that knew, knew.

It really wasn't that hard. There were only so much pale, toned hands, so much body builds you can hide with your hand covering his general face that you can hide without people making smart guesses. There wasn't a lot of pale, toned people around you after all.

But in your refusal to name him, the question continues, and so does Alys silent observation of every post. The only story she had liked had been the very first one.

You often wonder what she thinks, before your mind is devoured once again with everything else.

To be fair, as often as you had both been seeing each other lately— and it has been the most often you have been seeing of him — there were still things outside of Aemond and Helaena plans. And Aemond still had UNI to focus on.

"You know, I often forget you're still in university," you say now, comfortably warm in Aemond's car. All fresh leather seat and crisp new car smell despite knowing that Aemond's had this unit now for at least a year. He maybe rich, but he knew what he liked and took care of them.

He shoots you a quizzical look before looking back at the road. The city is bathed in a gorgeous stream of oranges and pinks, tie-dying glass buildings and bustle of city roads. When you look at him, you smile softly at how pretty the light hits him.

"Why is that? Do I look that young?"

"Your vibe is so old man on a nine to three, cigar breaks by four, and whiskey sours by seven pm."

He makes a disgruntled sound at the back of his throat. You laugh. "I would like to think it's my altruistic classicism. A timeless endeavour."

"Sure, old man," you tease then sigh. "Reality is, I'm so much older than you. I'm hanging out with a child. On my free day. Is this what it means to reach low status?"

"I am not a child." His reply is sharp, cutting, almost offended.

"You're in college."

"And of legal age? You're only four years older."

"Oh, right."

"What?"

You smirk at his dark look. "You like 'em way older."

His face, much like his gaze, heats up. You're imaging it when the ride turns red, the car slows to a stop, and he is looking at your lips. Surely it was, because you got transfixed with the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. A slow, tantalising movement.

It feels like an eternity stretched within three seconds. The light turns green and both of you turn away.

Well, there's been that. A few times. But it doesn't mean anything. Aemond is in that transition of trying to rid himself of bad habits, of being freshly single once again, and you know he and Alys get in on frequently. This had been a conversation a few days back, on a couch, smell of grease and pizza around the room while Murder She Wrote played in the background.

"Wait, wait, wait." You sat up, folding your legs underneath your butt, and giving Aemond your full attention with a little 'o' in your mouth.

"Wait!" Helaena calls playfully from her sway to the bathroom. "Imma pee!"

"Take care, my beloved!" you call back, before turning to Aemond with a big, Cheshire grin.

"Can we not dwell on it?" He's flustered but is trying not to show it, looking back to the TV as if he understood why there's a body on the plane.

But wine has been had, spilled and shared, and it's enough for you to grab that fluster and the topic, and smirked.

"No, no, we will talk about it. We shall! We must! Do you mean to tell me that by the end of it, most of the time, you two were just boning? Is Aemy, one of my favourite people in the world, a Valyrian Sex God?? Oh my god??"

"I am not a Valyrian Sex God."

"Okay, girly pop, please." You raised a hand in a 'talk to the hand' motion and he was smiling at you, entranced and frustrated. "Women talk, Aemy!"

There was a flush and Helaena came back. Wine did things to Helaena, and she was stumbling and giggling as she flopped behind you, turning around and encasing you in a koala hug.

"Women talk, baby bro." Helaena nodded sagely. "Even I try not to listen, they talk, alas."

"And Alys has said those hips—"  You pointed a j'accuse finger at his hips, then his mouth. "—and that tongue has done things that can make the Maiden blush."

Helaena groaned behind you're back, a slew of 'ew's escaping her mouth. And you were still being playful, teasing, but Aemond was looking at you, though scarlet, with a deepened expression.

And at that moment, both of you were thinking the same thing.

His chin brushing your thighs, your sighs like music to his ears, and his tongue making you scream.

Warmth pooled, twin expressions share a gaze. Hunger, desire, shame.

The connection was destroyed when Helaena abruptly jolted and fell down the carpet. Because she was holding onto you, you got pulled with her.

"Are you okay??" Aemond asked.

Hel gasped. "I thought I saw Bobby. I think I squished Bobby."

You shook your head. "You didn't. Bobby is spry. Bobby knows to move away."

Aemond's confused face peered down at both of you. "Who's Bobby?"

"The local spider that lives here."

"Of course." And he smiled.

You smiled back.

Helaena giggled beside you but when you ask her, she only shook her head.

And the silence that lulls in the car is like both of you reaching the very same memory and having to sit through the stifle of that drunken interaction about his sex life. He coughs, you let out a breathy giggle.

"I should admit something," he says, parking the car in front of the restaurant. Dusk is settling, sunset in bright red and orange turning to a cool blue and pretty lavender— and when you turn to him after getting out of the car, coddling your jacket close to your body, he looks nervy. Apologetic, almost.

"What? What'd you do?"

He bites his bottom lip. "I know something about this restaurant."

"I would assume. You chose it." Your eyes narrow, giving the black-out floor to ceiling windows a look. The Painted Table is lit up in a scrawled font on top of it.

You step inside, not bothering to turn to his call of your name, and is submerged by the restaurant's vibe. It's a darkened place with meaningful lighting but a casual air, a bar on the side, and an upbeat jazzy music dancing in the air — it looks good. The place smelled delicious.

Nothing about it sparked familiarity to you, but the anticipation from that look of guilt on his face brought you to a high-strung, so when he calls your name again, just behind you, you turn.

"Is this where you had your first date with Alys?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, but—"

"Aemond?"

The voice is familiar, and you don't stop enough to think before you're turning to the low, clear voice that's just a hint of husky, and Alys' green eyes go wide at your appearance.

She's dressed nice, dressed to go out in a black dress dipping low and fabric tangled around her body to show off her curves. Her inky hair was swept to one side and her mouth was bloodred.

Alys Rivers, owner of Aemond's firsts. The woman he seemingly can't let go off.

You smile. It feels fake. "Oh. Hi Alys."

Her shock staves off into a genuine smile that makes you guilty. "Hi, my love. I see you two are together. Always attached at the hip. Dinner?"

Before you nod— or maybe strangle Aemond — he comes forward, taking your hand in the process and lacing it. He's looking at her as if he's setting a challenge when Alys' eyes fall on your intertwined hands.

"Yes," he says. "We are."

"Well... that's good. This place is great. I—" Someone calls her name, she turns back. You shoot Aemond a withering glare you hope conveys how much you're going to beat his ass after this. She turns back, smiling still. There's a pinch between her eyes but it's gone by the third blink. "Well, I have to go. I'll see you both soon, okay?" She turns to you, stepping forward, not minding the Targaryen beside you. "Especially you. We haven't hung out in a while."

"That's true, I've missed you, you crazy witch." And she laughs and you smile, because you genuinely consider Alys to be one of your friends. Not maybe as deeply as Helaena's, or as close, but Alys was an amazing person and you enjoy her company.

Plus, right now the one you're angry about it solely the man holding your hand.

Alys turns to Aemond, and he stiffens. Between them is a complicated look. So many things unsaid, before her smirk softens. "It's nice to see you too, Aemond."

And she turns away, walking back to her table, to her date, when you tug him with you to the bar. As you order a dry martini, he speaks. Calm and soft.

"You're mad at me."

"You knew she was going to be here." You turn to him, arching an eyebrow, hating the way your chest pangs. "You stalked her and brought us here because you wanted to use me."

He shifts, face crumples at the word 'use' and calls your name in a plead. "It's not like that."

You snort, taking a sip of your drink when it arrives. "Don't lie."

"Okay. Yes, I did. I... I made an impulsive decision because I wanted to see how she could go on a date as if we were nothing." Bitterness cripples his words, the smirk on his lips is ironic and darkened in hurt. Your heart hurts for him, but you can't give him a pass just like that. He hurt you too.

"You could've told me."

He raises an eyebrow. "You would be okay with this?"

Your own smile is ironic and darkened by hurt. "You're already using me, Aemy. That was the deal I agreed, for Hel. It would at least lick the wound to have been in the know, and not, you know, got shot in the face with it."

At the first part of your tirade, he looked like he wanted to argue with the using part, but the realisation weighs him because it is true. To him, he is using you. And it's a cheap shot on your part because you were also doing this for him, out of your own free will.

You sigh when he turns away, guilt dipping low.

"You're such a dumbass."

He hums in agreement.

You're aware of a gaze from the tables, somewhere in the ocean of jazz music and chatter, Alys is looking, and you kinda wanna make this good for him. You were already here after all.

Your hand reaches his jaw, sliding across his neck until you reach his nape and fingers tangle with the baby hairs there. His hair had been wrapped into a bun. Sleek and fluffy.

He turns to you, to your touch, in shock. "What are you—"

"Try not to look so surprised," you whisper, stepping close to him until your noses are bumping. "We're supposed to be dating."

And then you slant your mouth against his.

TAGGED: @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama

[the-possum-writes]

You may have gotten a request like this already so please ignore it if you have!

I really enjoy your works so far and I'd like to request the nsfw alphabet with Marshall Lee if that's something you'd like to do! Gender neutral or afab anatomy if that's okay but I really don't mind if you keep it fully gender neutral!

I hope this request finds you well and happy! Thank you for your time to read this ask and for sharing your work, it's very enjoyable to read! (It also helps that I adore possums hehe)

[Marshall Lee NS/FW Alphabet]

Tags: NS/FW, mentions of voyeurism, hcs, dirty alphabet

A/n: Thanks for requesting! Ya'll eating good tonight-! This is for the AT version of Marshall, the F&C Marshall would probs have some differences without the whole vampire thing.

A = Aftercare

Marshall doesn't need sleep so he'll help you clean up asap and lay in bed with you so his low body temperature can help ya cool off, he would also sing you to sleep in compensation if he went too rough on you.

B = Body part

Regarding his partner's, he's fond of your chest. He doesn't breathe so he likes seeing it rise and fall whenever you're panting, and enjoys listening  to your heartbeat during cuddle sessions.

As for his body, he likes every aspect of it but if he had to choose it would probably be his eyes. They're the first thing someone sees when he's lurking in the dark.

C= Cum

Slick like glue, and lacks any kind of odor or taste (I guess it's because he's a supernatural creature). He doesn't produce an exaggerated amount of cum in a single shot but he's determined enough to fill you up until it's sliding down your thigh, no matter how many rounds it takes.

D= Dirty Secret

Marshall snuck into your house once cause he wanted to gonna prank you by hiding your toothbrush and other stuff but he accidentally floated in on you in a private time and didn't leave until you finished. Nowadays he knocks before visiting you, but there are times where he touched himself to that memory.

E= Experience

Marshall has been around for thousand years, he knows his likes and dislikes regarding stuff done to him, and what he likes in a partner. He's confident in his performance as well, he has skill and learns fast, he knows that he'll find and exploit your weak points that'll have you sobbing in a good way.

F= Favourite Position

The dude can fly, he likes having you cowgirl (or reverse cowgirl) style while on mid air even though you've told him how dangerous it is.

G= Goofy

Though he gets heavily feral most of the time Marshall is a versatile man who can still crack a laugh even at the most heated times, if he's feeling playful and is on a full teasing rampage he'd use wordplay/puns that depend on the location you two are at.

H= Hair

Marshall is well trimmed but not fully shaved, his pubes are just as dark and wavy as his hair. However, sometimes he'd occasionally try to do funny patterns and would walk out of the bathroom bare ass naked and ask. "Does this look like a bat to you?"

I= Intimacy

Okay so we all know Marshall portrays himself as the residential bad boy and everyone buys it, but in reality he keeps his relationships at an arms length since he's lost people close to him. The guy craves intimacy and it's evident in the small affectionate gestures during sex like how he intertwineds his fingers in your hands, and after sex, he's got his legs tangled in yours, plays with your hair and rests his head on your beating chest.

J= Jack Off

In the early years of vampire hunting he couldn't allow himself a single moment of vulnerability even if his hormones were getting the best of him, but in current times in Aaa where he isn't always on guard he wanks it on occasion here and there when he's lacking company. Once he starts dating you he can't help but stoke himself in front of you when you touch yourself for him.

K= Kink

Pray/Predator play:

He loves playing the part so much. On a full moon he will give you a 10 minute headstart to let you run loose through the woods in that white transparent nightgown he likes so much (fits your role as the helpless victim) as he shape shifts into a wolf or a giant bat and hunts you down by the scent of your arousal alone.

Size difference:

Okay hear me out on this- The guy can shape shift, it would be impossible that he wouldn't develop a knack out of it (especially with the prey/predator thing) when he's near you. He gets a thrill out of it when he's in his bat form, slowly diving you down on his shaft until your thighs come in contact with his fur.

Blood kink:

At first he wasn't interested since he had enough fighting those bloodsuckers (and because it's an obvious thing for him to have). So everyday he fought the blood kink allegations but after years of denying it, its become a new curiosity. He doesn't need to drink the stuff to survive but there's something euphoric about yours that tastes better than any shade of crimson, he'd avoid your neck the first few times but would obtain it from you inner thigh, it's like biting into a lovely jelly donut.

Voyeurism:

It's rude to spy on others but Marshall is well known to watch over others regardless if they're aware of it or not, you'd learn it the hard way when he caught sight of you touching yourself in your private time. In recent times you purposely masturbate in front of him as he sits back in a comfy seat but only after kicking his ass for being a creep.

Exhibitionism: He doesn't mind taking things in a public space like a bathroom stall or just outside a party, he already has his initials marked all over Aaa so a quickie is just another way to mark his place as his.

Praise kink: can't get enough when hearing you say how much you love him, how good he feels inside you or the sensation of his mouth all over you.

L= Location

Anywhere, anytime. The only place he refuses to go is the Nightosphere cause his mom has eyes and ear everywhere and those pesky demons would rattle him out and before he know it his mom is asking for grandchildren.

M= Motivation

It takes so little to rile him up but the fastest way is when you're wearing on of his band shirts.

N= NO

Alright hot take. Although he jokes around with it sometimes; Marshall refuses to actually bite your neck with his fangs. Sure he'll nibble on your neck and bite your shoulder but his fangs never really pierce the skin of your jugular, it brings bad memories of his own forceful transformation and how it made him feel.

O= Oral

Appreciates anyone who's brave enough to let his teeth near their privates.

P= Pace

He goes rough and fast, he knows he gets too carried away but he forgets it right away when he sees you enjoy it as much as he does.

Q= Quickie

Doesn't mind them.

R= Risk

Definitely a risk taker. There's many ways to turn him on and he'd love to share them with you, his safe word is probably something like batshit or fries.

S= Stamia

Impecable. Unless you're a supernatural creature you can't match up with his subhuman self.

T= Toy

Marshall likes them both on himself and on his partner, he likes the dildo varities in particular (when he needs to prepare you for his bat form) and how crazy some designs can get.

U= Unfair

Ultimate tease, if you start taunting Marshall he's gonna return it in an instant. Doesn't care if you're out in public he'll get handsy with you as punishment, and dear glob have mercy on you in the bedroom cause he'd edge that bratty attitude out of you.

V= Volume

He isn't as vocal compared to you when he takes the lead, he would mostly let out an occasional hiss or groan intertwined with his dirty talk or teasing. Buuut, if he's the one on the receiving end he'll cry, whine and moan like a bish.

W= Wild Card

If it wasn't because of his vampire regeneration abilities he'd get dick piercings.

X= x-ray

A nice 9 inches long with a slight curve upwards, he's long but a bit on the slender side like most of his body, it's color is just as pale too but halfway it leads to a small dark gray tip.

Y= Yearning

High libido, watch out. Although he doesn't need to eat or sleep he can still feel lust and hunger which become stronger the longer his needs go unfulfilled.

Z= Zzz

He doesn't really sleep much nor does he get exhausted easily, if he's with a mortal partner he'd pretend to sleep just to keep you company or sing/ play a lullaby on his guitar for you.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

For garten of banban do a fic of the reader actually tackling tying up and gagging bittergiggle up before he can tell any jokes. She tied him up with shoelaces and used a bandana around her neck to gag him

Omg wasn't expecting a GOBB request so soon, but yay!!

Also yes this is happening ya'll I'm getting invested in this silly game again.

............

"Your Majesty, tell me..what did the-?"

"NO!!"

Before Bittergiggle could even react, you lunged and tackled him to the floor of the throne room, much to the shock of Sheriff Toadster and Queen Bouncelia. You were quick to yank off the bandana around your neck, putting it around his mouth as a makeshift gag.

He squirmed and thrashed through muffled yells, furious that you stopped him from telling his joke.

Yet somehow you were able to easily overpower him. He didn't expect any human to be this strong.

"Sheriff! I need your assistance!"

"Huh? Oh!" The toad snapped out of his stupor as you tossed several shoelaces you've gathered around the kindergarten in his direction, and he immediately knew what to do with them.

In the end, you two successfully tied up Bittergiggle in front of the still-bewildered kangaroo.

"What on earth...?"

"My apologies, your Majesty..but it's for his own good." Despite being out of breath, you stood up and smiled, patting the jester's smooth side of his head even as he kept struggling. "He was about to tell you the worst joke in existence. Figured I'd spare your gracious ears from hearing it."

"Oh? Well..I suppose you have my thanks, dear." She bowed her head in gratitude, before sitting back on her throne.

"Gotta say, I'm impressed.." Sheriff Toadster chuckled. "I haven't been able to round up this crook in ages...and yet this fine lady here did it in the blink an eye! I oughta give ya my thanks, too. You saved us all from certain doom."

"Yeah, well...I've been through enough crap already." You sighed. "And even after all this time...I'm still not any closer to finding my kid. I came here for answers and instead I got this dunce trying to kill me and keep me locked up!"

Nudging Bittergiggle with your foot, you watched as he fell onto his side, yelling dramatically despite the gag making his words unintelligible still.

All you did was scowl down at him. "Shut up. I didn't push you that hard."

"Your determination and grit is something I can admire," Queen Bouncelia remarked. "Although I am concerned for your safety, it's not my place to tell you to give up and go home. You didn't come this far to be told that."

"I appreciate your concern, my queen...but I know my kid best. They wouldn't just disappear in a place like this."

"Very well. Unfortunately, I do not have the answers you seek. I'm afraid they lie even-"

"Deeper in the facility?"

"........"

"I figured...guess the only way to go is down at this point." You then turned to Sheriff Toadster, putting your hands on your hips. "I'll help you lock the Jester up, but only if you take me to the next elevator. I'd feel much safer with you than Banban."

"As much as I appreciate that...you ain't one to order me around, missy." While physically impossible for him to frown, his eyes narrowed with a look of disdain. "Don't think you're let off the hook just yet. I'll lock you both right back up. Him for nearly killin' us all...and you for disrespectin' a-"

"You will do no such thing to her." Queen Bouncelia's voice boomed, causing him to tense and look back at her, suddenly trembling under her gaze. "They may not be connected by genome, but I see much of Opila Bird's fire in her eyes. The same instinct to protect her youth from harm. It is unwise to test a mother's love for her child."

"A-Ah...but of course, your Majesty. I shall not question the human any further." He bowed his head in obedience before turning back to you. "Alrighty. Let's go lock this bandit up only and I'll show ya to the elevator down. We may need to recruit an ally on our journey, but worry not...it shall not the that devilish fiend who claims to be your friend."

"Thank you." Nodding, you glanced at the queen with a heartfelt smile, relieved she still retained her kindness and empathy even after being abandoned.

For once there was a mascot who wasn't trying to kill or manipulate you.

So you and Sheriff Toaster eventually departed from the kingdom, dragging a kicking and screaming Bittergiggle behind you.

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

A humble request

I'm reaching out to the community for what may seem like a selfish reason, but something in my heart says that I gotta try. Asking for help is better than wallowing in sorrow.

My birthday is coming up next month, July 15. With the way things are going, this will probably be my first birthday spent alone, or at least, without mom (Unless things change radically, she won't be home by then or likely any time within the next few months) Now you gotta understand, I was born a year after my mom lost a child due to a deformity that is so severe and so rare, the baby never survives or makes it to birth. She wanted me badly, and while I struggle with that some days....I know I mean a lot to her.

Mom cared so much that she ALWAYS made Christmas and birthday special. She would fulfill my lists if she had the money (as I got older I grew guilty, and would often ask for less as years went on) and she always made sure I got something I wanted. Many times she would surprise me with gifts I didn't even know I wanted. Last Christmas, it was a beautiful coyote pelt. Do ya'll remember the btas scarecrow cake, or the handmade cupcakes with the fear symbol? She made those happen. She even paid to fly my brother (my hero) from Seattle to Kansas City for an event while I was taking classes at KCAI

I...don't think, unless dad gets me something, which he hinted he would but....I wont have that "special" surprise gift from mom. I could live without my amazon wish list, that's whatever. it's the way she always made that day matter that I'm going to miss. I'm crying typing this...

So, that's why I'd like to ask something of the rogues fandom

Could the artists, writers, crafters, creatives....come together and make sure that day isn't miserable? I'm not lying when I say I can count on my finger the days I've gone without crying or breaking down in someway since March. To put it bluntly and selfishly, I'm asking for some art, maybe a doodle of jon (or dm me for other characters I like!) or a little drabble about a headcanon I like. I wanna wake up on the 15th with my inbox full of love. I'm not asking for you to slave over photoshop for hours, but just something simple to make the day less depressing. When I told ya'll about my bad day and asked for positive messages, I woke up the next day with 20+ of them. That meant so much.

And all I want is to spend my birthday happy, and not in tears.

I'm sorry to sound so greedy....but y'all have shown me many times over, that internet strangers can show the most amazing amount love and care. And honestly, gift art would matter way more than physical things. Every single time you guys make me something, I save it to a gift art folder on my computer. I save every single thing.

[deathandteatime]

My Headcanon for God and Lucifer's siblings in Hazbin Hotel

Well, I saw that some other folks had some cool interpretations so I thought I'd give it a shot;

In my interpretation of God, he is an entity that is unfathomable for humans and most angels to comprehend, he is all knowing and extremely powerful, and can manifest a physical form that resembles a hybrid of a lion and an eagle, sort of like a chimera.

God was the only being in existence for the longest time, so he is more than a little deranged. He created the Heaven and the Earth, not because of some grand plan, but because he was bored and wanted entertainment. And that is how he sees most of Heaven and Earth's residents, as entertaining toys.

The only exception to this are the archangels, including Lucifer. They were the first of his creations and he made them out of his own essence, He sees them as his children and adores them as such.

When God sentenced Lucifer to fall, he saw as an equivalent of a time-out for a toddler (I told ya'll, he's unhinged), as soon as Lucifer repented/apologized he'd have let him back.

But that didn't happen.

So now God has been stuck for eons trying to come up with a loophole to get his youngest son back home.

So? What do ya'll think? Should I continue with this interpretation? Maybe attempt some art?

[citruswriter]

Confessing

A/N: Since I like to show off my rather extensive list of Melanie Martinez songs, I will be doing this in a "confessing through a love song format". Bc who's gonna stop me?

Listen in with me! ♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

Previous Part

"I'm performing at The Collective tonight! It's a new bar/club thing that's open to mutants and humans alike. I applied for a job there and I'll be singing for an hour. I expect to see ya'll there. No you don't get a choice." The text message within the group chat was loud and clear. Everybody was expected to be there. April and Mikey were already discussing outfits, this was your first performance and they expected to be known as your hot fans. Leo and Donnie begrudgingly agreed to come despite their distaste for such environments. Raph absolutely did not want to go but Casey and Vern told him that if they were forced to go, so was he.

That night, everybody came in, some more nervous than others. The current performer was a squirrel mutant that was singing country music. "So good to see you could make it." A voice said. Everybody turned to see Master Splinter. "Dad? What are you doing here?" Leo asked. Master Splinter smoothed down his robes, a nicer set than what he normally wore. "Just came to give our favorite star a pep talk." He answered with a glimmer in his old eyes.

Soon the club erupted in applause as the squirrel mutant bowed and made his leave. A man came up to announce the next entertainer. Applause erupted once more as you came onto the stage. And you were just breathtaking.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Song: Highschool Sweethearts

Warnings: Reader is a wolf neko, Reader has golden eyes, Reader wears blue, Reader is dressed feminine, they/them pronouns.

Leo almost choked on the whisky he had ordered. You wore a dark blue silk dress, strapless with a sweetheart neckline. A slit went up to your thigh and you wore black heels that clicked as you walked on the wooden stage. "How's everybody doing tonight?" You said and everybody cheered. Your makeup was light but you were utterly glowing. The simple gold necklace you wore complimented your golden irises, blue sword charm sitting a few inches below your collarbone. "It's so good to see you all, thank you for coming to my first performance here at this lovely club". Cheers erupted once more. Your eyes drifted until they found Leo's. He swallowed thickly, not being able to think with how beautiful you looked. You winked and began to sing, leaving the blue turtle utterly flustered.

You had decided to sing some old 50s and 60s music. You didn't move around much but occasionally somebody would come to the stage and hold up some money, causing you to move their way and take the tip with your manicured nails. Master Splinter nudged his eldest son, causing him to snap his gaze down to his father. "Beautiful young individual aren't they?" He asked and Leo cleared his throat. "You know, I'm so glad I bought that dress for them". He added and Leo stared down at his father. "Come again?" He choked out and Master Splinter chuckled in amusement. "You heard me".

Your performance was amazing. As your time ticked away, you had one more song. "Before I sing my last song here, I'd like to thank you all once again for coming out to The Collective. This last song holds a special place in my heart. This one is for you, Leo". You said, gaze travelling his way once more. Leo's gaze snapped up to look at you and you pinned your ears back with a nervous smile.

"Can we just be honest? These are the requirements if you think you can be my one and only true love. You must promise to love me and damn it, if you fuck me over I will rip your fucking face apart". He didn't know how you could sing the f word so sweetly. But as you sang there on the stage gently swaying, the lyrics spilled out of your mouth like honey. Your confession of your love spilled from your heart and into his. Occasionally you'd touch your hair in anxiety, unsure if you were even doing the right thing. "Could you hold me through the night? Put your lips all over my mine. Salty face when I start cryin'. Could you be my first time? Eat me up like apple pie. Make me not wanna die. Love me rough and let me fly. Get me up, yeah, get me high. Tie me down, don't leave my side. Don't be a waste of my time". You gazed at him adoringly and Leo couldn't help but feel his face heat up beneath his scales. When you finished your song, you bowed and the man from before took the mic once again as you disappeared backstage.

Before long, Leo could see you weaving through the crowd, heels in hand as you now sported some simple flats. "That was amazing!" April gushed, squeezing you tightly in a hug. You giggled and thanked her, heart pounding in your chest as you pulled back. You made your way to Leo and you smiled up at him. "Hi..." You said gently. Leo couldn't help himself, he grabbed your chin and pressed a kiss to your lips. You hummed but gladly reciprocated the kiss, his brothers cheering him on. "I love you so much." He whispered before kissing you again. When the two of you parted once more, you smiled and laughed softly. "I love you too Leonardo".

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Raphael x Reader 🧡

Song: Glued

Warnings: Reader is a neko, Reader is dressed feminine, Reader wears red.

Raphael had to stop himself from breaking the glass bud light in his hand as he saw you step up to take the mic. Long velvet black dress hugging your figure in all the right ways, tail poised elegantly as you smiled. But the red, oh the red on your body. Red glossy heels and a bold red lip that graced your smile. "Thank you so much to everyone that came out tonight." You all but purred, eyes scanning the crowd for the one man you so desperately wanted to see. Raph couldn't help but smile at you when he saw how your body relaxed at the sight of him. Fuck you were a work of art. Music soon flowed through his ears as you began your performance. He couldn't help but relax at the sound of your angelic voice. You weren't afraid to move around either, waltzing on the stage and spinning with a flick of your tail. You'd sway your way to those who chose to tip, hand gripping the money as you'd wink at them.

Everybody was enraptured with you, and Raph couldn't blame them. You were utterly gorgeous. Soon, your time was coming to a close. "Before I part ways with all you lovely individuals, I have one more song to perform. Raphael," his eyes snapped up to see yours gazing at him, "this one is for you, my love". Heart lurched into his throat at your words, Master Splinter looking up at his son with amusement. "This was my idea, by the way". He snickered before sipping his sake once more.

"I'm glued to the thoughts in my mind. They pester like a hawk in the sky. I am glued to the love in you. It swallows me whole, you're hard to let go," you sang from your heart, chest tight with anxiety. You knew he loved you but what if he didn't want a relationship? Were you making the right move? You stood still for this song, moving only your head or an arm. Raph couldn't take his eyes off of you. Never in a million years would he think that you loved him back. He knew he didn't think very highly of himself but even so, he knew he wasn't exactly the most attractive of individuals. He was an angry and aggressive brute. He knew how off putting he could be. But as you gazed at him with a lovesick grin, he couldn't help but melt on the inside. "Glued up, sometimes it's too much. I'm fucked up and clueless. I'm stuck in the vortex, stuck in the vortex. Glue-less, life would be borin', empty but no hurting. Is it necessary? Detachment is scary".

As you finished singing your song, you took a small bow, releasing the mic from your grip before headed backstage. Raph had been so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed you until you touched his arm. "Raphie?" You called softly with a giggle and the man jumped, gripping his bottle once again before looking down at you. "Hey kitten..." He rumbled back. "Did you like my performance, my love?" You said casually but he could see the anxiety in the twitch of your tail. He grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles. "You were beautiful, my darling". Smiling softly, you dared to step forward again, tail brushing against his scales before it coiled its way around his wrist. Before he could register what you were doing, you pressed your lips against his. It was soft but passionate. When you pulled away, he chuckled at you. "You really are something else".

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Donatello x Reader 🧡 (💚 if you squint)

Song: Light Shower

Warnings: Reader is a moth mutant, Reader is dressed feminine, Reader wears purple, they/them pronouns.

Donnie couldn't help but admire your outfit. A pastel purple mesh mini corset dress paired with black boots, lip gloss and highlighter being the only noticeable makeup on your pretty face. It was a little more bold than what you usually wore but he enjoyed it all the same. As he felt a heat rise in his stomach, he realized he may enjoy it a little too much...

"I appreciate you all coming out to the club tonight. It means a lot to all of us who work here," you said with that crowd winning smile of yours. Music began to play and you started the night off with a Ruth B song. You had decided on sitting on a stool for your performance, only moving to gently take tips from those who held up their crumpled one or five dollar bills, nodding to them gratefully before moving to sit again. Despite your stillness, your wings would buzz and flutter occasionally. As your time came to a close you took a deep breath. "Before I leave for the night, I'd like to dedicate my last song to somebody very special to me. Donnie". Donnie's eyes snapped up, staring up at you as he sipped at his wine. He almost expected a song about best friends and how amazing of a buddy he was. What came next left him utterly shocked.

"You are the light I've been searchin' for forever. Feels like, man, I've really never felt the rain. Buried in the desert, didn't think I'd push through the dirt. You just cleansed me like a waterfall, you came." The words fell over your silken lips, gaze scanning the crowd to seek him out. Eventually you found the giant of a man, expression flustered and shy. He offered you a soft smile and your wings fluttered. You smiled back at him with such affection it almost hurt your heart. You were sure you looked like a love sick puppy right now but you didn't care. You wanted, needed, him to know that you were in love with him. "But you made me want to plan out my last days on earth, eating you. Ooh-ooh-ooh, the tips of your teeth fit perfect in me, you're the shower of light I devour. Any day of the week. Baby, cleanse me".

Tears swam in your eyes as you were almost bursting with so much love for the purple terrapin. Donnie himself felt as if he could burst at any moment. "Such a lovely young thing aren't they?" Master Splinter's voice came suddenly and Donnie looked down to his father. "And to think they were thinking about not confessing. Good thing I gave them that pep talk". Donnie stared down at his father in shock but Master Splinter only chuckled in amusement. Cheers erupted from the club as you slunk behind stage. Donnie spotted you working your way through the crowd, April giving you a hug and beaming about your performance as soon as you got close enough. Eyeing Donnie, you fluttered your wings, buzzing up close to his height. You rested your hands on his shoulders, signaling your desire to be held. Donnie instinctively grabbed your body and held you in his arms as your wings folded and relaxed.

"You did a wonderful job tonight," Donnie said, nuzzling his snout into your neck to breath your scent in. You giggled softly. "Which song was your favorite?" You breathed, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "I think that last one definitely did your voice justice." He cooed, pulling back to gaze into your eyes. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to his lips, antenna twitching as you did so. Donnie's breath caught in his throat but he kissed you back just as gently. "I'm so glad you liked it."

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Michaelangelo x Reader 🧡 (💚 if you squint)

Song: Jinx

Warnings: Reader has white feathered wings, Reader has long elf-like ears, Reader is dressed feminine.

Unafraid as always, you spread your wings and asked how everybody was doing with confidence. Everybody cheered and you laughed. Mikey couldn't help but drag eyes gaze across your body. Black long sleeved mesh crop top and a vibrant orange mini skirt paired with black boots and orange turtle earrings. You looked utterly divine to this man. As if you could feel his gaze, you caught his gaze almost immediately. Music seeped through the club once more as you began to sing. You decided to mimic his actions, checking him out before biting your lip. Your gaze snapped up to meet his, Mikey letting out a low chuckle as you copied him.

Moving across the stage, you enchanted the crowd with your boldness, tips being straight up thrown on the stage for you to sink down and grab. "Such a lovely thing you managed to find," Master Splinter's voice came. Mikey almost choked on his fruity cocktail. "Oh no. Dad we're not together". He sputtered and Master Splinter looked up at his youngest song mischievously. "So you say". He said with a shrug. Mikey stared at you and then his father and then back to you. What the hell had you two planned?

As if you could sense your thoughts, you laughed on stage, looking at him with a twitch of your ears. Mikey gazed at you curiously and you just blew him a kiss before continuing with your lovely performance, wings and body moving with the music. But as the end of your time came, the slower the songs became. Eventually you stopped, taking a breath to laugh before holding the mic up again. "Unfortunately my time is almost up. But I do have one more song planned. To my dearest, Mikey, this one is for you". Eyes snapped up to you as somebody gave you a barstool to sit on per your request. Settling down, you nodded and music began to play once more.

"Went to the forest to be alone and figure out why I felt so lonely. They say the best company's the one you hold. I guess I never really loved me." Your tone became much gentler compared to the pop songs you had been singing earlier. Mikey decided to sit down in one of the comfy chairs that the back of the club had. He surprisingly fit in it rather comfortably. As you continued to sing, you covered your heart and closed your eyes, carrying out a note with ease. You voice was like milk and honey to Mikey. He loved it. "Laid all my burdens down. And you did the same with me. Two celestial lovers bound to the city. Never been loved so good and fucked so good. I know you’re with me".

When you finally finished your song, you didn't bother to slink backstage. You were too excited to find Mikey. Spreading your wings, you flew over the crowd. When you landed Leo and Master Splinter patted your back, telling you how wonderful you did. You laughed and thanked them before making your way over to Mikey. Groaning, you stretched before sitting down in his lap. "That hour went by so much faster than I expected". You said, relaxing into the orange terrapin when he wrapped an arm around you.

"Never been fucked so good huh?" He said tone teasing and you smacked his chest. "Of course out of the entire love song, you focus on the sex part". You said with a roll of your eyes and Mikey laughed before grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. "I'm sorry, my love. I couldn't help but tease, especially since I've never actually fucked you before". He responded and you chirped. "Not from lack of trying that's for sure." You mused, leaning in to press yourself closer to his body. He hummed, in response and leaned in to kiss you. You happily welcomed his advances, leaning into his touch. "I love you, Michaelangelo." You whispered, lips ghosting over his and Mikey smiled up at you. "I love you too, starburst".

AND HERE WE GO! Tbh this is probably the last for my tmnt boyfriend scenarios unless I get an ask specifically for it. I might make a smut one shot for each of them but that's it. I hope you enjoyed all the sappiness.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Do ya'll have any recs for school/slice of life ttrpgs with more in depth mechanics for grades, classes, and keeping a school life balance? We really like magic school and slice of life settings but very few ttrpgs we've found have any actual mechanics for the school side of things, rather than just flavor for the free-time portions. Any kinda school works. Thank you!

THEME: Slice of Life Schools

Hello there! I found more games that were closer to this request than I thought, but there's definitely a number that I'd say come with a Your Mileage May Vary caveat. I hope you still find something that works for you!

Academia Or Else!, by liberigothica.

You are students at a local school. Your grade and age do not matter. What does matter is you have no choice. You must go to your classes every weekday, for 8 hours, unless you are sick. But that doesn't mean you must do as you're told.

Academia Or Else is a one page tabletop RPG about playing as a group of students in school, dealing with day to day school troubles like finding a mysterious envelope full of money, or finding the principle's diary, or being sent to detention for one of those first two things.

Academia or Else is grounded in the mundane pieces of school life: bullies, tests, detention, and school events. Your characters are classified as a Goth, Jock, Nerd or Prep, and your skills are represented as letter grades in common classes (Gym, History, Language, Math, and Science). This is a game more about rebelling against some of the rules of academia than it is fitting in, and the game in general gives me some of the same vibes as Breakfast Club.

When it comes to rolling dice, your skills and archetypes are represented by different sided dice: a d10 for an A-level, l, a D4 for an F-level, and so on and so forth. You roll two dice for any given problem, one for your archetype and one for your skills. You are trying to gain a total of 4 or higher on each dice. This means that there are three possible results: success, success with a penalty, and a total penalty. If you want a game that’s quick to learn, you might like this game.

Brit School Hijinks, by Librarians and Leviathans.

You're pupils at a British secondary school, trying to keep life at least a bit interesting and make your own entertainment. Build a den in the rafters of the gym. Raise terrapins in the third-floor bathroom. Brew moonshine with the long-banned solvents in the arts room. Arrange charity concerts. Steal test answers from the Head's safe while disguised as a Swedish piano-tuner. Stage a rebellion against school dinners. Find buried treasure under the rugby pitch. Arrest your physics teacher as a spy. Hide sickly aliens in the lockers. Plot bank robberies. Concoct elaborate schemes to bump into your crush. Bend, not break, the rules. Try different ways to make a difference to the days.

Much of the creation of the school in Brit School Hijinks does a very good job of reminding you that this is a run-of-the-mill school, with problems like needing to borrow money for something important, humorous misunderstandings with your crush, or setting up an elaborate scheme at school to get out of one of your classes. There doesn't need to be magic, monsters, or big world-ending event (although there can be if you want it). As a group, you’ll also decide whether your teachers are hostile, mundane, forgiving, or something else, as well as where you school gets its funding, and what kinds of programs it focuses on. There’s also a quick primer on British high schools in general, for folks who are unfamiliar with what that kind of school life looks like.

When it comes to how the game is run, there’s a focus on your relationships with each-other. How much do your peers trust you? Do the adults approve of you? How cool do other students think you are? You’ll also have a number of skills related to academic classes, which you’ll use when consulting how many dice you can roll for different tasks. From the role-play side of things, your characters also come with motivations - maybe they need to pass chemistry, or they want to ask out their crush. I think there’s the opportunity to make this game very fantastical, but you certainly don’t have to.

Dusk Academy, by Skullery Maids.

Dusk Academy is a spinoff of Blades in the Dark. It uses much of the same systems and mechanics, deviating slightly to fit the setting.

It is set in the hallowed halls of, well, Dusk Academy — a private school on an English island, far away from society. This school caters to girls fresh out of school, unsure of what to do in their futures. Dusk Academy helps these girls sort out their interests and passions, but it is special in its own way. The school is home to magic — and teaches it as part of its curriculum. This fact must remain secret from the rest of the world, but the school aims to provide a healthy environment for students to unleash their mystical potential.

More importantly, the school encourages students to form clubs, to provide a support network of friends throughout their time there. From sports to calligraphy, the world is your oyster.

Forged in the Dark games are very very good at providing you with tools to help you track long term consequences, typically in the form of clocks. You can use clocks to track how close you are to finishing a school project, how much time you have left to study, how long before the school dance, how much stress you’re under, and how far you can push a teacher before they blow their top.

Dusk Academy also uses the faction mechanic from original blades and re-skins them as clubs, creating the clique-ish social organization of a school hierarchy. The phases of the game also map out to the different parts of a school week - lessons during the week, club activities on Wednesdays, free play in the evenings, and extra downtime over the weekends.

If you like working with a bunch of different systems that synchronize kind of like clockwork - then you might want to check out Dusk Academy.

Alchemical Romance, by TrueFeyQueen888.

Alchemical Romance is a TTRPG powered by Caltrop Core. It is a game about young love, teen angst, lo-fi study groups, alchemy, friendship, and magic. Alchemical Romance is about a group of young alchemists getting together to study for their Alchemy Finals, but it is also about what goes on behind the scenes. Alchemical Romance is a game of unexpected friends and being true to yourself.

The characters in Alchemical Romance are different school tropes, such as Athlete, Bookworm, Goth, and Headphones Kid. Part of the game will revolve around maintaining relationships with your classmates, but the other part is focused on preparing for your Alchemy final. The game can be played in a single session “Study Sesh”, a multiple-campaign“Diploma” series, or somewhere in between. There’s a couple of neat tools in here to play around with, including a Burnout track to help you monitor how much stress your character is under, and both relationships and special skills to track how what resources your character has.

Overall the game is rather rules-lite: this is a game for folks who really like social roleplay, first and foremost. I think that it definitely fits the “slice of life” part of your request, but if you pick up Alchemical Romance for your group, you’ll probably want to be putting a number of other rules in to make the game feel more like an engine.

Last Hope, by Wendigo Workshop.

“There is a world, much like our own, where darkness lives. Its influence seeps into our world, corrupting those with a weak soul. That is why The Gift exists. Those with The Gift must travel to The Beyond and free the world from Shadows. But The Gift always comes with a price…

We never know the price, it is never said… we always understand too late. Do not accept The Gift. It is tempting, it seems beautiful, but when something appears too good to be true, it usually is…”Last Hope is a tabletop roleplaying game within which you play as a teenage character trying to fight evil corruption in an alternate version of the world, while also living your daily life as a student. Through a strange contract, you were given The Gift, transforming you into a Magical girl and giving you special powers.

As magical girls, you’ll be juggling school in between missions during a session of Last Hope. However, there are rules in this game for tracking a school day, as well as a roll table to determine whether or not you can stay awake in class, or pass your exams. There’s also downtime rules, which includes taking time out of your precious free hours to work on your schoolwork - rewarding you with a better chance of succeeding at Wit rolls. Since Last Hope is also Caltrop Core, I’m curious as to whether or not you could take a few pieces of this game and combine them with Alchemical Romance to make a more robust game.

Public Wizard High School Teens, by Rexatron Games.

It’s senior year at Wolfboil High… 

A public high school for urban and suburban kids who want to do wizard stuff but can’t afford the snooty private school up the hill, on the lake, in the woods. As usual, yet another life-threatening problem has emerged that the highly qualified and experienced (but apathetic) adult staff of wizards is ill equipped to deal with. That leaves you, a scrappy band of dramatic libidinous teenagers to save the day. But there’s also crazy important school stuff to think about AND your life sucks hard because you have your own even more important problems to deal with.

This is a one-page rpg with two different sets of rules, so you can choose which set works best for you. The premise of the game is that there is a villain with an evil plan, but even as your students are trying to stop them, they’ll also have to deal with personal stress and a big event coming up - an event, that if cancelled, could severely effect the staff and/or students of the school. It’s a small inclusion, but the constant reminder of a normal part of school life that your characters care about is a nice reminder that this is in fact, a school.

You Can Also Check Out…

My Spooky Dark Boarding School Recommendation post has a lot of games in it that fit this request to some extent, in particular Precarious Prep and St. Hornbeck’s.

[jungle-angel]

Chaos In The Kitchen (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Bob and his siblings should never be in the kitchen together, especially prepping for the big barbecue on the 4th

Warnings: Parenthood, Bob and his siblings being a chaotic mess, Meemaw having to control everybody etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @sebsxphia

Bob pushed the door open with the toe of his shoe, his ears bombarded by the cacophony of noise coming from the kitchen. Pans and pots clattered to the floor along with utensils, loud curses and swears flew from the doorway along with some rather colorful insults.

"......You're a fucking idiot Michael! Why would you do that?!"

"How was I supposed to know it would do that, SEAN?!"

"You two dickheads almost lit the kitchen on fire!"

"Stay outta this Reagan!"

"No I'm not gonna stay out of it! You know why? Because I am the keeper of the one collective brain cell the four of you share!"

Bob made a face and set the grocery bags down at the threshold of the door. The kitchen was a mess, completely covered in flour and smatterings of vanilla. Something had burned in the cast iron pan while Bob's brothers and oldest sister continuously argued over who had almost burned down the kitchen.

"HOLY MOSES!" Meemaw exclaimed as she came through the storm door in the kitchen with a basket of elderberries.

Everyone froze, two of them swallowing nervously.

"Um........Meemaw......we can explain.........." Eugene said.

"Please do, I'd love to hear it," she said sarcastically.

No one spoke, too nervous to rouse the wrath of their grandmother.

"I trust ya'll knuckleheads to get one thing......one damn thing made......and ya'll nearly burn down the kitchen," Meemaw pointed out.

"It was Sean's idea," Michael said, yelping when Sean stamped his older brother's foot.

"That is IT!" Meemaw declared. "Out! Out! Git on outta my kitchen! Out! Go cause trouble somewhere else!"

The five disgruntled siblings, Liam, Reagan, Eugene, Sean and Michael, all filed out the storm door to go see what else needed doing.

"Sorry ya'll had to see that Bob," Meemaw apologized.

"Nothing I haven't seen before Meemaw," Bob answered, trying not to laugh.

Him and Meemaw set to work, trying to get the kitchen cleaned up before the barbecue commenced. "Hopefully none of'em lose a finger or a hand when they set the fireworks off tonight," Meemaw chuckled.

Bob laughed a little bit. "I dunno Meemaw, but we'll find out," Bob replied.

"In the meantime we're gonna need to get this place cleaned up and bakin," she said. "Not that I wanna have the ovens goin but I guess the mini-splits will help with that. Any idea where (y/n) went?"

"She went to go get Auggie's birthday cake from the grocery store," Bob answered. "I think Dad, Papa and Hawk all went to go get them meat."

"Well, if anything they'll be a while," Meemaw remarked. "In the meantime, you and me are gonna get this shit movin."

Meemaw pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses from the hutch cabinet in the hallway. "Two for the chefs, one for the dish," she joked.

Bob and Meemaw set to work on the pies and other baked goods, hoping they would be ready in time for the picnic. Meemaw had pulled the Hoosier Pie from the fridge, the cream filling having set overnight and needing only a liberal sprinkling of cinnamon over the top.

"Was this your mom's recipe?" Bob asked.

"Nah that was my Meemaw's recipe," Meemaw laughed. "She used to make it every summer and maybe at Thanksgiving. I remember when we'd bring your dad, aunts and uncles up to their place in Indiana every year for Thanksgiving and she'd make it."

Bob laughed at the stories Meemaw had told about her time growing up on the farm in Indiana and how she had met Papa after he had tried to sneak a slice of her gram's pie from the window.

The cream and pudding pies were stuck in the fridge to set while the huckleberry pie was quickly pulled from the oven and the apple one stuck right in. The shoofly pie had been a recipe from Meemaw's friend, Ethel, a fiery little Mennonite woman from Pennsylvania and who had been very close with Meemaw while their husbands were serving in Korea.

Finally, everything was done. Bob had never seen so many pies in his entire life. "I don't think I can look at another pie for a long time," he laughed.

"You and me both Bobby," Meemaw chuckled.

The door opened and you stuck the red, white and blue cake on the counter. "I hate holiday grocery shopping," you groaned.

Bob coiled his arms around you and kissed your cheek. "It came out great though," he remarked.

You couldn't have agreed more. The red, white and blue cake was absolutely huge with an edible photo of Captain America on the front of it. "Has Auggie seen it yet?" Bob asked.

"I don't think so," you said. "We'll wait till after dinner tonight to show him."

You joined your husband and your grandmother-in-law in the kitchen to get everything else ready, enjoying yourselves as you smelled all the tantalizing scents of the meat being cooked outside. Of course there had been chaos, but you and Bob enjoyed yourselves nonetheless.

[vilevenom]

This fic started out as a little 3K word ficlet, inspired by the smarmy little Hickory in a suit, drawn by the amazing @em-doods. It then turned into this 15K+ beast when we starting chatting about his other outfits.

Hope ya'll enjoy ❤️

Hold Me Tight, or Don't

Fandom: Dreamworks Trolls

Pairings: Gen, Hickory/John Dory

Summary:  Since leaving the troll tree, there was only one troll that John Dory kept unintentionally running into. Unfortunately, they weren't always exactly pleased to see each other.

Excerpt:

"John? That's it? Pretty plain name for a troll such as yourself," Hickory said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as they were dealt a fresh hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, wrinkling his nose as he checked his cards.

"Oh, not much," Hickory said with a light laugh and a shrug, "You're just a real, hm…rugged looking troll. I figured you'd have a more interesting name."

John scowled as he tossed chips into the pot, shooting Hickory a glare. "It's John Dory. Happy?"

"Like the fish?" Hickory laughed, adding his own chips to the pot, "Well. That shouldn't surprise me."

John bristled, sitting up in his seat with a low growl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hickory shrugged, easy smirk on his face as he flipped over his cards. "I've got a straight. What about you?"

Link to fic on AO3

John hadn't really known where he was going when he'd wound up stumbling upon a grand building situated at the edge of the funk troll territories. He'd just been exploring idly, hoping he was heading in the right direction to get to where he'd been told the country trolls lived, so finding such an especially tall and extravagant building in what was basically the middle of nowhere had been startling, but intriguing. It rose up towards the sky, higher than any troll made structure he'd seen before, and its glass and metal walls glistened brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight. The huge neon sign declaring "Jazzy's" was also something John hadn't seen before, so much like a moth to a flame, he wandered towards the building curiously.

"Woah there," an older, rather gruff looking country troll grunted at John Dory as he approached the front doors of the building, holding a hand out to stop him before he could go inside. He halted in his tracks, slightly on edge as the larger troll looked him up and down. "Haven't seen you around here before. What's yer name an' tribe?"

"Uh…it's John Dory. And I don't know what you mean by 'tribe'?" John offered, absently fixing how his goggles sat on his head as the other troll frown at him. He'd been to some of the other kingdoms. Was that what this troll was talking about?

"Y'know, yer tribe. Your genre? We don't take kindly to certain kinds of trolls 'round here," the troll practically snarled at John, rising up from his seat, as John took a step back and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Hey now, Axel," a well dressed purple troll came waltzing out the double doors of the building, a lazy grin on her face. She was wearing a loose, flowing red robe that practically hung off her frame, and wild blue hair seemingly floated around her face. "You tryin' to scare away fresh meat?"

"Meat?" John echoed quietly under his breath, suddenly very much wishing he hadn't even tried to approach this place.

"He won't tell me his tribe," the troll named Axel growled, still glaring down at John, only to deflate as this new troll placed her hand on his arm.

"You know that anyone who wasn't actually wanted around here would come up with a better lie than 'I don't know what you're talking about'," the blue haired troll said with a laugh, before turning a sharp eye towards John, who bristled slightly at the attention. "Besides…I'd say it's pretty obvious he's some kind of pop troll. Look at him, Axel. He's harmless." She chuckled and floated over to John, who swallowed thickly and suddenly wanted to be very far away from this place, but couldn't get his feet to move. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"John Dory," John found himself answering before a thought could pass through his brain.

"What a peculiar name," she hummed, a placid little smile on her face. "My name's Jazzy, like it says on the building," she said, gesturing vaguely at the sign shining down on them, while stepping next to John and wrapping her arm around his shoulders, "And this is my casino. Have you got anything worth trading? Coins, you know?"

John frowned, but nodded a little, reaching into his hair to pull out a handful of assorted coins from the various areas he'd passed through on his travels so far. "Sorry, but…what's a casino?" John had a feeling he'd asked the wrong question when Jazzy's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across her face.

"Oh, well now!" she cooed, tugging John in close to her shoulder and pulling him along with her into the building, "Don't I have a treat for you!"

Jazzy steered him through the casino, and John quickly realized his earlier feelings of trepidation were probably well founded. He spotted some rock trolls who looked like they were about to rough up a couple of country trolls over a card game, a handful of trolls who just looked like they were on their last legs, and others who waltzed around in the most glamorous outfits John had ever seen. The whole place just had a general uneasy energy that John was not pleased to be in the middle of. Jazzy assured him that he was perfectly safe when she noticed that he was looking a bit on edge, though he had a feeling that she was lying through her teeth as she took the coins from his hand, spoke quietly to a troll behind a barred off counter, and handed him back some colorful plastic chips.

"Now…You know how to play cards, don't you?" Jazzy asked, steering John in yet another direction.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," John said with a small nod, grunting as he was pushed into a seat at a table with several other trolls already sat around it.

"Perfect! This is Lonesome Hold 'em. Real easy to learn. You get two cards that my dealer here will toss you," Jazzy gestured at a young looking techno troll sat at the top of the table, with a rather nasty looking rock troll stood just behind them, "Don't let anybody see them, alright? Then the dealer will flip over five cards, one at a time. You need to make a good poker hand out of those cards. Best hand wins. You've played poker before, haven't you?"

John nodded quickly, as he was garnering glares from the other trolls sitting around the table. He'd never been so happy about his grandmother having an addiction to five card Rummy as he was right now.

"Excellent! Now, you boys have fun!" Jazzy cheered, waving at the table before whisking off to somewhere else in the casino.

"Minimum bet is a tenner," the dealer said, nodding towards John, "The blue chip. You need to put one in to play."

"Oh! Right," John quickly tossed one of his chips into the pile on the table, offering a nervous smile to those around him, only to have glares returned to him.

The first few hands went rather abysmally, with John quickly losing a good handful of his chips as he figured out how the betting system worked, along with the tells of the other players. But, once he'd worked out the reactions for good and bad hands for each of the trolls sat around him, and what hands he should bet high on, he found himself starting to win. He could really see why his grandma had loved gambling so much; it was a thrill when you were winning.

Unfortunately, that did mean that the other trolls at the table were getting tired of losing. Some got up and were replaced by other trolls who wanted to test their luck against John. They would win one or two hands, until John figured out how they played, and he'd start winning again.

Luck truly seemed to be on his side, and he was beginning to think that perhaps this casino place wasn't so bad, right up until he showed up. A rather sleek looking green troll, with a smarmy little grin on his face, slicked back orange hair, and a sharp suit. He sat down across from John Dory at the table with a friendly little nod, though John immediately got a sense that this troll was not one to be trifled with. It was relatively obvious from the way he held himself that this was not his first time at the table, and John had a funny feeling that this troll thought he'd be an easy mark.

They played a few hands, with John losing the first couple as he got a feel for how this new troll played, until he began to win again. But then something seemed to shift, and the trolls playing style changed. Which was strange, since most trolls had a set way they played and superstitions they followed, and those were not something most gamblers would alter on a whim. It was something his grandmother had taught him when he was young, telling him that being able to pick up on tells and playing styles wasn't just good for cards, but something that would come in handy throughout his life. He already knew this would be one of those times.

A few more rounds passed, with the rest of the table clearing out except for John and the slick troll who offered a wide grin as John won another hand.

"My, my. Can't say I've ever seen someone pick up a game so quickly before," the slick troll hummed, drumming his fingers along the edge of the table.

"My grandma was real into cards," John offered, stacking his winnings up carefully in front of himself.

"Is that so? She must be quite the lady."

"She is."

The slick troll nodded, rocking back in his chair for a moment, before dropping the legs back onto the floor with a loud thud. "The name's Hickory. Figured I should be properly introduced to one of the first players to give me a run for my money."

"John," John stated bluntly, a little more aware of himself this time around, and not quite as willing to give him name freely.

"John? That's it? Pretty plain name for a troll such as yourself," Hickory said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as they were dealt a fresh hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, wrinkling his nose as he checked his cards.

"Oh, not much," Hickory said with a light laugh and a shrug, "You're just a real, hm…rugged looking troll. I figured you'd have a more interesting name."

John scowled as he tossed chips into the pot, shooting Hickory a glare. "It's John Dory. Happy?"

"Like the fish?" Hickory laughed, adding his own chips to the pot, "Well. That shouldn't surprise me."

John bristled, sitting up in his seat with a low growl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hickory shrugged, easy smirk on his face as he flipped over his cards. "I've got a straight. What about you?"

John blinked, not having noticed that the hand was even over. He flipped his own cards over. "Two pair."

"Looks like I win," Hickory hummed, scooping up his winnings. "Want to go again?" John scowled but nodded, tossing in his bet.

Hickory won a few more hands that way; riling John up to make him lose focus until the hand was over so he hadn't realized he was betting on garbage cards. But grandma Rosiepuff's voice rang in his head the third time he lost due to his own irritation, telling him to breath deep and calm down. He used to get riled up the same way when she'd beat him at Rummy when he was a little kid. She'd told him that if he didn't calm down, he'd never win, since anger would only ever lead to loss. Wise words that he should have listened to sooner, really. But that wasn't something he could focus on at the moment, with Hickory smirking at him infuriatingly across the table.

After taking a few deep breaths, John began to steadfastly ignore the barbs and jabs Hickory shot his way to try and get a rise out of him, and slowly he began to win again. As his pile of chip began to grow, Hickory's smirk began to fade, slowly being replaced by a scowl.

John lost track of time in the large, windowless room the poker table was in, so he wasn't sure how much time had passed before his pile of winnings was quite sizable and Hickory was down to a a small handful of chips. Enough, really, to get him through one or two hands more.

"I'd probably give up now," John said with a smirk, earning a sharp glare from Hickory, "I don't think your luck is going to drastically turn in one hand."

"You'd be surprised," Hickory snapped back, shoving his remaining chips into the pot as the cards were dealt, while John shook his head with a low chuckle.

But surprised John was. Hickory won the next hand. And the next. It didn't seem to matter what cards John was dealt, Hickory always had something better. Until, finally, John was down to his last few chips.

"I'd probably give up now," Hickory mocked, a cruel gin on his face as he flipped a chip between his fingers, "I don't think your luck is going to turn in one hand."

But Hickory made a fatal mistake as he flipped his chip in the air, causing his sleeve to shift just enough for John to spot a card tucked into it.

"You're cheating!" John shouted, slamming his hands onto the table and swiftly rising from his chair, causing it to fall behind him with a clatter.

"I… what?" Hickory choked, dropping the chip he'd been playing with, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I can see the cards up your sleeve!" John snapped, pointing at the offending sleeve, while the rock troll behind the dealer began to shift and move towards Hickory.

"I-what? No, I-" Hickory glanced between John and the rock troll, swallowing thickly as he slowly rose from his seat. He shifted on his feet, shooting John a glare that made the teal troll freeze where he stood. "I'll get you back for this," he growled, before tossing a handful of chips into the air, gaining the attention of several trolls in the vicinity. They began to swarm the table, half blocking the rock troll from getting to Hickory, who began to run from the table. John watched as he dodged other rock trolls scattered around the casino floor, before ultimately booking it out the doors.

John slowly picked his chair up from the floor and sat heavily into it as Jazzy swept over to him and several trolls dispersed the crowd that had gathered to scoop up the fallen chips.

"Thank you for alerting us to that crook, John Dory," Jazzy cooed, reaching across the table to pull what was left of the chips over to John while patting him on the shoulder. "These are all yours, sweetheart."

"Thanks," John muttered, quickly pocketing the chips. "I think I'm done playing, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Jazzy nodded slightly, "Would you like a room? We've got lots upstairs that are open."

"I-No thank you, ma'am," John said, offering her a strained smile as he rose from his seat. "I think this was a bit more excitement than I was really prepared for. I should get going."

Jazzy made a face at him, but ultimately nodded. "All right. You can exchange your chips at the cashier cage," she said, gesturing towards the barred off counter she'd gotten his chips from earlier. "Be mindful of which coins you ask for. Some will cost more chips than others," she added. With that she turned to the trolls that had followed her to the table, leaving John to his own devices. Quickly he scurried to the cashier cage, exchanging his chips for country troll coins, since that was where he'd been planning on going before he'd found this place, and headed out the doors.

He didn't mange to get too far from the lavish building, before he found himself being tackled face first into the ground and sat on by none other than Hickory, though he looked distinctly more disheveled than he had inside the casino.

"Not very wise to be heading out all on your own after pissing someone off during poker," Hickory hissed, digging his knee into John's back, making the teal troll wheeze.

"M-maybe you shouldn't've cheated then," John gasped out, wriggling beneath Hickory to try and get his arms free.

"Maybe you should've minded your own damn business," Hickory growled, grabbing at John's wrists to pin them against his back, wrenching his shoulders in the process and making John yowl in pain. "I've been working that place for months, and then you come along," Hickory grunted, his weight shifting against John's back as the teal troll kicked his legs up to try and dislodge his attacker, "and ruin everything."

"Again," John wheezed, Hickory's weight shifting just enough that he could roll onto his side, dislodging the grifter entirely from his back, "Maybe you shouldn't have cheated!" He quickly scrambled to his feet, heaving for air as he rolled his now sore shoulders. "It's not my fault you decided to do something stupid and got too cocky while doing it."

Hickory didn't even respond to John Dory this time, simply letting out an enraged bellow as he ran at the teal troll. He tried to tackle John again, but this time he was ready, quickly side stepping the grifter while swinging his arm down into his back, causing Hickory to stumble and fall with a shout as his momentum worked against him.

"Look, I don't want to fight you," John said quickly as Hickory pushed himself up, turning to John with a scowl.

"No. You don't," Hickory snarled, raking his hair out of his face and shifting as though he was going to run at John again, only to freeze at the sound of his name being shouted from off in the distance. He groaned, then spat at the ground near John's feet, making the teal troll recoil slightly. "You're lucky," Hickory snapped, straightening up and fixing his rumpled jacket. He then turned on his heel and dashed off into the underbrush, leaving a rather bewildered John Dory behind.

Time passed, and soon John had mostly forgotten about the odd troll who'd tried to beat him up outside the casino. However, he most certainly avoided the area where he'd come across the opulent building in the first place. Although he'd found Lonesome Hold 'em somewhat fun, he didn't particularly fancy getting caught up in whatever was going on inside that building. He had enough worries in regards to keeping himself alive in the wilderness, he didn't need to unnecessarily add to them by getting into trouble with the trolls he'd seen hanging out in there.

After a couple of years of roaming around and through the country and funk kingdoms, he found himself coming across the rock troll territories. When he had first started exploring the different areas the various genres called home, he hadn't wanted to try traversing through the volcano ridden territories of the rock trolls, especially not after hearing the stories that the other nations would mutter about the rambunctious and rowdy kingdom. But, now that he was a bit older, and had his sweet Rhonda at his side (who was nearly as tall as he was already, so he was fairly certain most other trolls would leave him alone if she was with him), he felt more at ease about crossing into and exploring the rough terrain.

Happily, John was quick to note that what the other trolls had said about the rock trolls seemed to be untrue. As he reached what he'd been told was Volcano Rock City, the main settlement of the territory, he was approached by a grinning red troll, who thrust a piece of paper into his hands, declaring an invite to a party.

"Hey, man! Wicked critter. You should, like, totally come to this party that's gonna be a total rager later," they said with a laugh, before trundling off to hand his flyers out to other trolls nearby. John watched them walk away with a confused little smile, before looking over the paper he'd been handed.

"Huh," John offered the flyer to Rhonda, who sniffed at it and churred, earning a chuckle from John. "What do you think, girl? Wanna go check out a rock troll party? It might be fun." Rhonda simply growled in an excited manner, her back end wiggling as John scratched at the back of her head. "Yeah, okay. It couldn't hurt to check it out."

John would later come to regret saying that.

He arrived to the party as it seemed to be getting into full swing, with music blaring from huge speakers next to a stage where a band was playing, and trolls milled about in nearly every available inch of space. Some were dancing near the stage, while others were trying to talk over the music, while still others gorged themselves on the swathes of snack foods that seemed to be floating around the party in random bags and bowls. It wasn't quite like the parties he'd attended when he was younger, but it was similar enough that he felt right at home. Rhonda, on the other hand, seemed to become somewhat skittish and agitated at all of the loud noise. John cooed at her to try and calm her down, but when that didn't work, he left her near the outer edges of the party, where there were fewer trolls, and the music was a little quieter. He promised he'd be back for her in a couple of hours, tops, before heading back into the crowd.

Admittedly, John's first taste of the rock genre was going pretty smoothly, in his opinion. One troll commented on his goggles, noting that they'd be cooler with spikes, while another told him that his fur lined jacket was 'sick', but it would look better in black. And the music, oh, the music. It was so different from anything else John had heard before, but something about it really struck a chord with him. He found himself head banging along with a group near the stage, and a rather gnarly looking blue troll showed him how to throw up 'devil horns' and 'rock out' appropriately. It was absolutely fantastic.

That was until a green troll with wildly curly orange and black hair appeared in front of him.

"John Dory," the troll shouted over the music with a rather unwelcoming grin.

"Uh, do I know you?" John asked, frowning slightly as he backed away from the troll as he stepped further into John's space.

"You sure do, fish boy," the troll snapped back, grabbing the front of John's jacket and yanking him close. John's eyes widened as he realized exactly who he was currently faced with.

"Hickory?!"

"Got it in one."

John made to pull away from Hickory, but the grifter's grip on his jacket was unyielding.

"I think it's about time I paid you back for the trouble you made for me, back at Jazzy's," Hickory said, grin widening at John's obvious struggle to get away from him.

"What are you even doing here?!" John asked, grabbing at Hickory's hand to try and pry his fingers from his jacket.

"None of your business," Hickory hissed, before turning his head and bellowing out, "MOSH PIT!"

John gasped as a rush of trolls started to crowd in and around where he and Hickory stood, jostling them roughly. John could feel Hickory's fingers loosening in his jacket, but the grifter's gaze snapped back to him quickly as he began to slip away.

"Nuh-uh. You're not getting away so easy this time," Hickory snapped, using the commotion and rowdiness of the crowd around them as an excuse to toss John to the ground. He shouted loudly, grinning as the trolls around them echoed the noise, before he pounced on John as he tried to scramble away.

They tussled through the crowd, Hickory obviously enjoying himself as he continuously shoved John into trolls who took no mind of him as they elbowed him, kicked him, and generally battered him ruthlessly as they moshed to the music blasting from the stage. Finally, John managed to stumble his way out of the crowd and fell to his knees, very much worse for wear, and fairly confident he had bruises littering about 90% of his body. Hickory, meanwhile, strode out of the crowd with nary a scratch, obviously quite used to the nature of mosh pits, and knew how to get out of them relatively unscathed.

"It's someone's first day in the scene, isn't it?" Hickory mocked as John staggered to his feet, clutching at his rather sore ribs.

"It was going fine until you showed up," John growled back, glaring at the grifter, who simply laughed at him. He bristled as Hickory approached him casually, an easy swagger to the way he was walking telling John that this troll didn't have a doubt in the world that he could and would get away with whatever he wanted here.

"Go home, pop troll," Hickory seethed at John, before reeling his arm back and punching the teal troll squarely in the face.

John stumbled back, spots already forming in his vision as he raised his hand to the now throbbing bridge of his nose, while Hickory smirked cruelly at him. The last thing he registered was the sound of Rhonda 's bellow over the din of the party, and Hickory quickly disappearing into the surrounding crowd, before his world went dark.

When John awoke, Rhonda was hovering over him, a worried little coo leaving her as he blinked up at the late evening sky. Slowly, he sat up to find that she had dragged him from Volcano Rock City into what looked like a forest. There were no other trolls around, though in the distance he could see the massive volcano that stood in the center of the city they'd left behind. He sighed and gave Rhonda a grateful little pat as she nuzzled up against his side, while gingerly touching his very tender nose.

"Maybe we keep avoiding rock trolls, huh?" he asked Rhonda, who churred unhappily next to him. "Yeah. I think it's probably best if we don't go back there."

And avoid it he did. John spent the next couple of years exploring the Neverglade trail, rather than continue through the troll kingdoms. Although exploring other genres was fun, a break from other trolls was more than necessary, he figured. Especially after his last run in with Hickory, which had really soured his urge to meet new people. That wasn't to say he didn't run into other trolls and sentient creatures while out on the trails, of course. He met many interesting characters over the years who had plenty of stories to share with him. Which did eventually lead to him learning about the various and notorious bounty hunters that roamed around; one of whom was described quite similarly to Hickory. A rather nasty sounding yodeling troll, who was one half of a pair of brothers with quite the reputation. Hickory was apparently known for his disguises and charming trickery, gaining the trust of his targets and drawing them away to somewhere secluded, where his older brother would inevitably ensnare them in a trap.

According to the hiker who had casually mentioned all of this to John, the brothers had a staggering track record with very few, if any, misses on their hit list. Which just made John somewhat confused as to why Hickory had let him go not once, but twice. Though, he supposed, that might have something to do with the fact that their encounters had little to nothing to do with Hickory's 'work', and capturing John wouldn't exactly be profitable to the bounty hunters. He decided to simply be thankful that he was unlikely to see Hickory again, and moved on with his life.

Eventually, John did find himself back in the kingdoms, with Rhonda now just big enough for him to ride inside, so long distance travel was much easier. He figured the coast would be the best place to check out, since he'd heard techno trolls lived just offshore and were pretty chill, and Rhonda loved a good beach. What he wasn't expecting to find was a community of trolls, who claimed themselves to simply be 'surfer trolls', living near the seaside. Their music was an odd sort of mixture of pop and rock, but it was catchy and fun, and John couldn't help but find himself humming along to the melodies.

They were friendly, too, inviting John to join in their dances and offering to teach him how to surf. He happily agreed to the surfing lessons, pleased when Rhonda jumped into the water after him to swim alongside their surfboards, much to the delight of the other trolls in the water. Anytime John began to wobble on his board, Rhonda would surface just below him, throwing him off and into the water, earning laughs from everyone around. John was fairly certain she thought she was helping, so he couldn't exactly get mad at her for accidentally sabotaging his lessons.

After roughly the tenth time Rhonda dumped him into the drink, John decided it was probably best if he leave surfing to the surf trolls and just enjoy the beach. So, he dragged his soggy self out of the water and propped his borrowed board up in the sand, as the other trolls had shown him to do, and turned to watch Rhonda continue to frolic in the waves. As he turned, however, he spotted a relatively familiar looking green and orange troll that immediately had his hackles rising up. Although he looked slightly different, with dreadlocked curls and baggy beach clothes, he just knew the troll he was looking at was Hickory. After all, hadn't that hiker told him that Hickory disguised himself frequently? It would explain why each time John had run into him, he'd looked different. The bounty hunter was casually chatting with a couple of other trolls just down the beach from where he'd gotten out of the water, and John had no doubt that Hickory was here for a bounty on one of the surfer trolls.

He decided that, for now, it would probably be best if he stayed back and just watch the bounty hunter. He was relatively certain that Hickory knew he was here, since Rhonda was sort of hard to miss. However, he did wonder if Hickory even remembered her, since he was also rather certain that the bounty hunter would've approached him by now if he had any sort of inkling that John was nearby. After all, they weren't exactly on the best of terms.

So, he sat and watched, noticing how Hickory kept gravitating to one rather pretty pastel green troll in particular. She had wavy pink hair with flowers nestled throughout, and appeared to have a rather easy going attitude, along with an absolutely phenomenal singing voice. John wondered, briefly, if perhaps Hickory was simply pursuing her in some sort of romantic sense. However, that idea was quickly squashed when he happened to spot a smaller green and orange troll half hidden in the beach scrub not too far off from where Hickory and the girl were. Likely the infamous older brother, Dickory, he'd heard about. That had to mean they were there for a bounty, and based on Hickory practically sticking like glue to the girl, it was most likely her.

A slow smirk crept across John's face as he watched Hickory and the girl chat, an idea forming in his mind. Another miss on the yodelers otherwise near spotless track record would certainly put John Dory in an even better mood than he already was.

John drew himself up from his seat on the beach, whistling for Rhonda, who bound out of the water with an excited trill, drenching the trolls around her on the beach as she shook herself off. He grinned as her antics drew the attention of everyone on the beach, including Hickory and the mystery girl he was following. A satisfied little chuckle escaped John as he spotted the way Hickory's expression soured upon spotting him. He eagerly waved at the bounty hunter, which only served to confuse Hickory, as he frowned and tilted his head, watching with dawning horror on his face as John practically skipped across the beach, Rhonda hot on his heels, towards the two trolls he'd been keeping an eye on.

"Hey!" John chirped, slapping his hand down on Hickory's shoulder and giving it a not so gentle squeeze as he reached the two, "It's been a while, man! How've you been?"

"John Dory," Hickory feigned cheer through gritted teeth, adjusting the yellow sunglasses perched precariously on his nose, "It's goin' swell, bro. Been real chill. What's brought you out to the beach?"

"Oh, you know," John let Hickory go, waving his hand through the air, while Rhonda flopped down into the sand behind him, "Just adventuring. Been out on the Neverglade trail. Heard some really interesting stories while I was out there." He glanced over to the pastel troll who was observing the two with open curiosity on her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry," John said with a light laugh, "How rude of me. I'm John Dory. You are?" He offered the pastel troll his hand, earning a soft giggle from the girl.

"Aquata," the troll hummed, taking John's hand and shaking it gently, "It's, like, totally righteous to meet you. It's wild to meet someone who knew Reef from before he came to the beach. How long have you two, like, known each other?"

John shot Hickory an amused look, earning a sharp glare from the bounty hunter from behind Aquata's shoulder. "Oh, I've known 'Reef' here for a few years. Met him pretty shortly after I started adventuring. He's always been a real character." Aquata simply laughed at John's anecdote, while Hickory fumed just outside her line of sight. It was incredibly entertaining to John, to watch the way Hickory's face contorted at John's antics.

"That's so rad! Reef is always so quiet about his past," Aquata sighed, turning a lazy smile on the bounty hunter, who quickly plastered a calm little grin on his own face.

"It's 'cause none of it matters, man," Hickory hummed, stepping up next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "The past is, like, unchangeable. Why bother dwelling on it?"

"Deep," John commented, barely able to keep a laugh from escaping him at the way Hickory's expression twitched, like he wanted to scowl at John but knew he couldn't. "But, y'know, the past sort of defines who we are, so it's kind of important."

"Wow! That's so true," Aquata said, patting at Hickory's hand on her shoulder. "Hey, why don't I go get us some drinks? And you two can, like, catch up for a minute?" She twirled easily away from Hickory's hold with a breathy laugh. "I'll be back in a sec!"

The two watched her sashay away, before Hickory turned a sharp glare on John Dory. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," John hissed back, hackles up. "I can only assume you're here to kidnap that poor girl."

Hickory scrunched up his nose, placing his hands on his hips. "Kidnap is a pretty strong word, fish boy."

"It's accurate though, isn't it? That's what you do. Kidnap trolls and deliver them to whoever pays you the most coin. I heard all about you and your brother," he nodded towards the tall grass along the far side of the beach where he knew Dickory was hiding, "while I was out on the Neverglade trail. You two have quite the reputation."

Hickory snarled quietly under his breath, before sucking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. "All right, fish boy," Hickory grunted, "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave this beach and that poor girl alone. I doubt she's done anything especially nefarious that would justify you and your brother dragging her away from her home."

"I can't do that," Hickory groaned, pushing his sunglasses up to rub at his eyes, "My brother would not like that."

John arched an eyebrow, an idea striking him as he reaching back to gently pat at Rhonda, who lifted her head with a curious trill. "Would your brother prefer it if I let Rhonda eat you, instead?"

Hickory blinked, quickly taking a step back as he eyed the armadillo bus, who stared right back at him. "What?!"

"You heard me. You can either take off, and haul your brother along with you, or I'll let Rhonda swallow you. She's eaten a few bigger critters out on the trail, so I know a troll wouldn't be much of an issue," John said, as Rhonda rose to her feet behind him and shook herself clean of the sand that clung to her carapace. He watched as Hickory eyed the critter, his demeanor quickly becoming more nervous and agitated. Of course John wouldn't really let Rhonda eat Hickory, though he did know she could. He'd just get her to store the bounty hunter in the weird pocket dimension trunk she'd developed over the last few months and drop him off somewhere in the woods. Not that he needed to know that, of course.

"You wouldn't," Hickory said with a shake of his head, swallowing thickly as a slow grin spread across John's face.

"Are you really willing to test those waters?"

Hickory looked between Rhonda and John once more, his gaze fleetingly darting off in the direction his brother was hidden, before finally settling back on John. "Fine. Fine! It's not like this was a big job, anyway. Just some rich arschloch who wanted a private, captive singer. We'll leave."

"Great," John hummed, his grin turning into a genuine smile. Even after Hickory had beaten him up a few years back, he really couldn't say he held a grudge against the other troll. As a matter of fact, he was growing just a little bit fond of the only troll that kept circling back into his life. Messing with him periodically was starting to be a bit like a game he got to play every couple years. "You know, this little game of kitty critter and mouse we've incidentally been playing over the last few years has, weirdly, been kind of fun. I hope you don't mind that I won this round." He offered Hickory his hand, at which the bounty hunter stared in mild confusion. "C'mon, man. You can't tell me you've never shook someone's hand before."

"…Not usually right after they've threatened to have their pet eat me," Hickory scoffed, though he did tentatively take John's hand.

"First time for everything, I suppose," John laughed.

"I guess that's true," Hickory hummed thoughtfully, gaze focused on their hands until he pulled his away. "You are a much more surprising, and dare I say tenacious troll than I gave you credit for, John Dory."

John's grin brightened considerably, another joyful little laugh escaping him. "Thanks! I'll take that as a compliment."

Hickory simply snorted quietly at that, a slight smile on his own face as John chuckled.

"Looks like you two had an excellent catch up," Aquata said merrily as she came trotting up to them with three cups in hand. She then offered Hickory and John each a cup of what looked to be fruit punch.

"It was pretty good, I think," John offered, shooting Hickory a cheeky wink, to which the bounty hunter simply rolled his eyes.

"Like, yeah, man. Wicked good," Hickory added, easily slipping into his laid back surfer persona. "But, like, totally bummer news. Johnny here reminded me of some family business I, like, totally forgot about. I'm gonna have to take off. Sorry, Aquata."

"Oh," the pastel troll seemed to deflate a little, though an understanding smile settled on her lips. "That's a drag, but I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side," Hickory offered, handing his cup to John so he could tug Aquata into a quick hug. He then gave John a short nod, before turning and walking off into the beach grass where Dickory was hiding.

"So lame," Aquata sighed, rolling her cup back and forth between her hands, "He was gonna, like, take me on a trip to see Vibe City."

"I'm sure he's just as sad as you are that he can't take you there anymore," John consoled the pastel troll with an understanding frown, though inwardly he was quite pleased to have completely thwarted the yodelers mission. As well as, perhaps, come to some sort of understanding with Hickory. Or, at the very least, gotten more on his good side. Somewhat.

John hung around the little beach community for a good few months, both because he quite enjoyed the energy of the trolls that made their home there, but also to ensure that Hickory and Dickory were not planning on suddenly reappearing. Once he was well and truly certainly that Aquata was in no danger of being spirited away, John decided it was time to move on. He debated on visiting Volcano Rock City again, but ultimately decided he had his fill of socializing for a while, and headed back to the Neverglades to explore the trails once again.

Another year or two on the trails passed him by, with John eventually coming to realize that he'd been gone from the troll tree for roughly ten years. Far longer than he'd ever planned on, but time he felt was well spent, learning about the world at large and also about himself. Working out and past all of the issues that he'd let get so intricately wrapped around him that he'd lost sight of who he really was. He hoped that the time that had passed was long enough that his brothers would perhaps even forgive his past actions, and be at least somewhat happy to see him again.

And so, John Dory gathered as many supplies as he could fit into Rhonda, before taking off towards Bergen Town. He had hoped, over the years, that he'd hear news from one of the kingdoms he visited that the pop trolls had relocated somewhere outside the tree. That they'd somehow managed to escaped their prison. Unfortunately, no one had apparently seen any signs of other pop trolls until John Dory had come waltzing through. It didn't exactly fill him with joy to go back to his child hood home, knowing that his family had gone through so many Trollstices without him, all while he'd been galivanting around the world. But his grandma had always made sure they had the best possible hiding spot. Especially after what had happened to their parents.

He was sure they were fine.

Or, at least, that had been what he'd thought, right up until he scaled the wall of Bergen Town and spotted the decaying remains of the troll tree. His heart plummeted.

"No…"

Rhonda made concerned little churring sounds from where John left her near the base of the wall as the teal troll fell to his knees, but he quickly turned to shush her and tell her he'd be back as soon as he could.

Quickly, and as quietly as he could, he made his way through the town, making sure to stick to roof tops and shadows to keep any wayward Bergens from spotting him. Soon enough, he landed on the shriveled grass that surrounded the tree, dread and guilt rapidly filling his chest as he took in the carnage around the base of it. There wasn't a single soul anywhere to be seen, with pods laying shattered on the ground, scattered pieces strewn everywhere, alongside long rotted wooden carvings of what John assumed were supposed to be trolls. He hurried to scale the tree and ran to his grandmother's pod, hoping for some sort of sign or indication that his remaining family had somehow gotten out of this damnable place.

John was at least somewhat relieved to find his grandmother's pod still hanging securely amongst the branches, though the front door was limply hanging open, brokering no illusion that anyone was still living there. Gingerly, John crept towards the pod, not even conscience of the fact that he was holding his breath as he crossed the threshold.

The pod was a mess. Whatever had shaken the other pods from the tree had caused the cozy looking furniture to fall over, while any picture frames that had previously been hung on the walls lay scattered across the floor, the protective glass shattered into sharp shards. The thick layer of dust settled over every surface brought to sharp focus that whatever had happened to the tree had happened a long time ago, which only served to make the guilt in John's chest grow until he felt like he just might throw up. He should have been there to protect his little brothers. To make sure that whatever had befallen the tree didn't claim his family among the casualties.

Slowly, John picked his way through the pod, making his way to the bedroom he'd once shared with Spruce. Upon entering the room, he found it barely changed since the night he'd left. The beds were neatly made, as their grandmother always insisted, their posters were, surprisingly, still tacked up to the walls with little pins, and although any possessions that had once been on shelves and the dressers were scattered across the floor, John couldn't help but feel like he'd just stepped back in time. Seeing nothing of note that could tell him what had happened, he then moved on to the slightly larger bedroom that his three youngest brothers had shared.

What he found shocked him slightly. Where he'd been expecting a bunk bed and crib, he found a single toddler bed, and instead of two small desks crammed into opposite corners, he just found one, pushed up against the wall. He frowned as he approached the desk, finding childish little drawings that, frankly, didn't look like anything any of his brothers would've drawn. At least, not while he'd been around. The drawings were rough, like the artist had been pushing down on the crayons too hard. Simple little words like 'RUN', 'HIDE', and 'NO' were featured rather frequently throughout the drawings, while little figures that John assumed were trolls were being scooped into the mouths of what appeared to be Bergens. The drawings were dark, and frankly more than a little graphic and disturbing, as some of the crudely drawn trolls were being crushed between the teeth of the Bergens.

John felt tears welling in his eyes as he flipped through the plethora of drawings, a broken little sob escaping him as he came to a drawing at the very bottom of the stack, obviously from before all of the other scribbles, with a happy little blue signature that read 'Branch' across the bottom corner. Only two trolls were depicted in the drawing, labeled as 'Grandma' and 'Me'. The way Branch had drawn himself lead John to believe the sketch was from well after the band had broken up. There were no other drawings on the table, nor any scattered across the floor that depicted any of his brothers. It made John's heart twist in his chest. What had happened to his baby brother? And where were his other brothers when it had happened?

It was as John turned to leave the bedroom and explore the rest of the pod for clues that his heart stopped in his chest and all of the air left his lungs. There, carved into the wall and door of the bed room were the words 'THEY ARE GOING TO EAT US'.

It felt like the world was tipping as John fell to his knees in front of the display of complete and utter paranoia and despair that stood boldly in front of him. It was most likely that Branch had been the one to take a knife to the wall, since the lack of any other beds in the room and the drawings indicated he was the only one to dwell inside. But what had happened to their Grandmother? There was no way she would have let Branch near the knives, let alone take one to the wall and door. And if any of his other brothers had been around, surely they would have stopped him.

John's head spun, heaving as he emptied his stomach onto the floor of the bedroom, gagging as his body was wracked with shivers and tears fell down his cheeks in a torrent. His family - they had to be dead. It made so much sense, now, why not a soul in any of the kingdoms he'd travelled through had seen hide nor hair of another pop troll, besides him.

He didn't know how long he drifted around the pod in a daze after that, collecting up everything that wasn't broken or moldy into as many bags as he could feasibly carry. He then stumbled out of the pod, considerably less careful than he had been on his way up. But that didn't really appear to matter, as most of the Bergens roaming around the streets didn't seem to be looking for trolls. John vaguely thought that perhaps it had been so long since the troll tree had died that they didn't think there were any trolls left to even bother looking for.

Somehow, John made it back to Rhonda without being spotted, although he could barely recall the trip through Bergen town. She cooed at him worriedly, and he managed to scrape together enough wherewithal to give her a pat and tell her to head back towards the Neverglades, before he climbed inside. Once inside, he reverently set the bags of memories he'd collected down, crawled into his bed, and buried himself under a blanket. The near constant flow of tears had finally stopped, though where sadness and despair had only just had a chokehold on him, empty numbness had begun to take over. He felt like someone had pried open his chest and scooped out his heart, leaving him bereft.

After a time, though he truthfully wasn't sure how much, John could feel Rhonda come to a stop. Slowly, he dragged himself from the huddle of blankets he'd been bundled under and stumbled to the door, dehydration and lack of food making his head swim slightly. He'd definitely been cooped up in Rhonda longer than he'd intended. Which meant that the poor girl had been going for far longer than John Dory had ever driven her before. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest for his negligent behavior, and tumbled out the door, forgetting just how high it really was. John fell face first into the dirt, earning a churr of despair from Rhonda as she turned to watch her caretaker push himself up onto his knees. She turned to nuzzle at him, which John quickly returned, raising his arms to give her his best approximation of a hug.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," John murmured, the emptiness he'd been wallowing in slowly ebbing away to allow sadness to creep back in as he felt tears well in his eyes once more. "I'm so sorry. I promise I won't hole myself up like that again, okay? You deserve so many treats for being such a trooper." He hiccupped, a sob following shortly after. "I gotta make sure to take care of you. You're all I have left."

And take care of her, he did. She was a little worse for wear after having run what John would later figure out was nearly three days straight without stopping. He cleaned her up and made sure she had as many snacks and treats as she could eat, and let her rest where she'd stopped in the middle of the Neverglades for a week straight. Once he felt that Rhonda was well rewarded for dealing with his breakdown, he steered her to the nearest town and filled as many cupboards as he could with fermented juices, nectars, and barley. Anything and everything that he could get his hands on that would allow him to temporarily forget about his family and the state of the tree, when he wasn't taking care of Rhonda. Because as much as he wanted to drown himself in alcohol to forget what he'd seen, she needed him to take care of her, and he vowed not to fail another soul that relied on him.

Months passed before Johns supplies began to run low enough that he needed to venture back into a town to stock back up. Still feeling less than social, he decided to stick to the outskirts of most settlements, and avoided the larger cities all together. Rhonda seemed to love meeting new trolls who gushed over her, though, so John would stop in the little towns for a few days at a time so she could get her fill of social interaction. Meanwhile, John would fill his cupboards with whatever alcohol the town had to offer, and drink himself stupid, before the two would spend the next couple of weeks roaming the country side again.

It was during one of these spans between towns that John and Rhonda came across a little band of nomadic folk trolls, near the border of the desert where the country trolls lived and the forest that separated the rock kingdom from the others. The group was rag tag at best, their patchwork tents endearing in the way they were cobbled together in a multitude of materials and colors, while nearly every troll looked like they had rolled around in a meadow, with twigs and flowers sticking out of their hair that John could see even from a distance. Rhonda seemed especially interested in them, so John brought her to a stop near their encampment, and decided it was about time that he try to fill his social interaction quota once again. He was doing his best to get back into the swing of talking with other trolls again, but so far it hadn't exactly gone well.

"Hey there," he called to the camp, waving his arm above his head while trying his best to feign a smile.

Truly, the very last thing he'd been expecting was for a troll near the center of the camp to perk up at the sound of his voice and call back a confused, "John Dory?"

"Uh," John said rather eloquently, suddenly wishing he'd showered at some point in the last few days. He probably looked a mess and smelled just as unpleasant. The troll in question strode across the camp, John's eyes slowly widening as he took in the scruffy orange hair and beard of the familiar green troll he couldn't seem to stop running into. He didn't want to call the bounty hunters name, unsure as to what he'd even be doing with such a group. Surely a folk troll wouldn't fetch him much coin?

"What in the world are you doing here?" Hickory asked as he finally made it to John, a small frown on his face.

"Exploring," John offered bluntly with a small shrug, "What about you?"

"Trying to get away from my brother," Hickory replied with a shrug of his own, "You reek."

"Haven't showered in a few days," John sniffed, tugging absently at the bottom of his jacket. "What're you going by?"

Hickory scrunched his nose up and tilted his head, reminding John of a confused cuddle pup. "My name?"

"Yeah, but," John leaned in to Hickory's space, the bounty hunter gagging quietly at his smell as he did, "Can I call you Hickory? Or are you going by 'Reef' again?"

Hickory blinked, then snorted a quiet laugh, nodding his head slightly. "Oh, yeah, right. You can call me Silas. But, how about you go and take a shower, and then I'll introduce you to some of the group? You smell like you slept in a pile of garbage."

"Yeah, alright," John said, turning on his heel to head back into Rhonda. He did not miss the mildly concerned look Hickory shot him at his short, somewhat stilted answer. However, he really couldn't bring himself to care that much. Although he'd grown to think fondly of the bounty hunter over the years, they didn't really know each other. His apparent concern was appreciated, but John didn't really feel like he'd earned it.

John showered quickly, then took a moment as he dripped dry inside Rhonda to clean up a little. When Hickory had said he smelled like he slept in garbage, he hadn't really been that far off. Piles of food and drink containers had stacked up over time, and several dishes had been languishing in the sink, growing mold. John filled the sink with soapy water to let the dishes soak, and tossed all of the trash into a couple of bags to take out the next time he went through a town. Finally, he opened all of Rhonda's windows to let her air out, since her cabin was starting to smell a bit musty. It was while propping open her front window that he overheard who he assumed was Hickory talking to his baby girl.

"You're a good girl, aren't you? Does John Dory take good care of you? You certainly look nice and healthy. Would you eat me? No, you wouldn't. Noooo. You're too sweet for that."

John snorted into his hand at the babying voice the other troll was using on Rhonda, though it was obviously winning her over as she churred happily and audibly licked someone.

"Ah! Ew…Uh, thank you. I think," John heard the other troll say, mild disgust dripping from his tone, prompting the teal troll to slip back inside to stifle his laughter and get dressed.

Once he felt he was at least mildly presentable, he hopped back outside, finding Hickory covered head to toe in Rhonda's glittery spit, confirming that it had, indeed, been the bounty hunter talking to her while John was cleaning up.

"Making friends?" John teased, nodding towards the sparkly troll with a crooked little grin.

Hickory snorted, brushing glitter from his shoulder. "Trying to. I think I succeeded? She didn't eat me, at the very least."

"She might be marking you as prey," John offered, though he knew she definitely wasn't. She only licked people he liked.

"Well, isn't that a comforting thought," Hickory laughed, reaching out to wrap an arm around John's shoulders, effectively half covering him in drool as well.

"I thought the point of me going to take a shower was to get clean? Now I'm covered in slobber and glitter," John scoffed, following along with Hickory as the other troll began to steer him towards the camp.

"The shower was more to make you smell better. And you do! So now you have to suffer my glittery fate with me."

"That's fair," John said with a quiet laugh. He blinked at the sound as it left him, fairly certain it was the first time he'd actually, properly laughed since he'd gone back to the tree. He felt a little squeeze in his chest as he glanced at Hickory, who had an easy going little smile on his face as he lead John to a small group of trolls loitering by the camp fire.

John barely paid attention as he was introduced to several of the folk trolls, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries on auto pilot. Finally, he was lead to a log set somewhat near the camp fire, just the right distance from everyone else meandering around the camp to be somewhat secluded. A bowl of stew was pushed into his hands as Hickory sat down next to him with a sigh.

"They seem friendly," John commented idly, before taking a sip of his stew and immediately perking up. "Wow! This is delicious."

"Thanks. I made it yesterday, so the flavor's gotten better. Wasn't as good then," Hickory said with an easy smile, "And, yeah. They're real nice. Took me in without asking a single question. I've been traveling with them for a few months now."

"Oh, yeah? And you promise you're not trying to snag one of these poor, unfortunate souls to sell to some high paying douchebag?"

Hickory sighed, swirling his stew idly in his bowl for a moment, before shaking his head. "I swear to you, I'm not. The last year or two of bounty hunting was just…It was getting to be too much. My brother was taking worse and worse jobs for us, and I was getting tired of the constant run around. I also realized one day that I really don't know who I am."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Every time you've met me, I've been someone different. In the early days I could at least still go by my own name here and there, but I don't think anyone but Dickory has called me 'Hickory' in years. I don't even know my own likes and dislikes at this point, having to change my personality to fit whatever persona my brothers come up with at the time. I wanted to figure out who I am, without Dickory breathing down my neck, or our job putting pressure on me."

John felt suddenly stricken at Hickory's response, memories of his own little brothers complaining about the parts he'd forced them to play flashing in his mind. The only one who'd never complained was Branch, but he was only a toddler, so that was to be expected. He had always just been happy to be included. Which then brought the realization to the forefront of his mind that Branch would only be fourteen this year. The same age as John had been when they'd started Brozone.

He hadn't even realized Hickory had continued talking until the sound of his voice suddenly stopped.

"…John?"

John startled slightly, his nearly untouched bowl of stew almost falling to the ground as he lifted his head. He blinked, feeling tears he hadn't registered catching on his eye lashes. "Sorry," he breathed, setting his bowl aside quickly and rubbing at his face. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to ignore the way Hickory was looking at him. "I gotta…Sorry, I just remembered something," he floundered, yanking his goggles down over his eyes as he rose from his seat. He then quickly took off towards Rhonda, ignoring her worried trills as he ducked through her door.

Perhaps if he'd been paying more attention, he would've noticed Hickory following close behind as he went inside. Instead, he pulled open one of his cupboards, grabbed a stout bottle of the strongest liquor he'd managed to find in the last town they'd passed through, and began to unceremoniously chug it down.

"Woah there!"

The half empty bottle slipped from John's fingers as he jumped at the sound of Hickory's voice, mildly irritated with himself at being so easily startled twice in a row by the same troll in such a short amount of time. He turned to glare at Hickory, forgetting his goggles were obscuring half of his face. "What?!" he snapped, stooping to scoop the bottle off the floor and putting it back to his lips to finish off what was left.

"Look, I know we don't really know each other that well, but you have to understand that this is concerning behavior," Hickory stated, hesitantly reaching towards John, "You just suddenly ran off and started trying to drink yourself into oblivion. What happened?"

"None of your business," John hissed, finishing off the bottle and reaching for another. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Hickory really didn't deserve his terse behavior, but all he wanted to do right now was forget.

"Hey, now," Hickory stepped forward and placed his hand over the top of the new bottle, frowning lightly at John, "You have every right to tell me to leave, but you've got to know that I'm worried. I've seen trolls do some awful things to themselves over the years, and drinking themselves to death isn't really that uncommon, or fun to watch. Believe it or not, you've been one of the only trolls I've managed to run into more than once over the years that didn't have anything to do with my work, so I've grown kind of partial to the idea of getting to run into you more. C'mon, John Dory. Talk to me."

John sniffed, tugging the bottle away from Hickory's hand to take a swig, though he didn't try to upend the bottle like he had the last one. After a moment he let out a slow breath, shoving his goggles back up into his hair to reveal his watery, red rimmed eyes. "You reminded me of my brother."

"And that made you need to drink an entire bottle of fermented nectar?" Hickory asked, taking a step back from John, now that he was less worried he was going to dump another bottle down his throat.

"Yeah. It did," John sighed, shortly followed by a sardonic little laugh. He gestured for Hickory to follow him over to the couch, flopping himself down onto it as he took another swig of his drink. He watched idly, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks, as Hickory gingerly settled himself down on the couch next to him. "My youngest brother would be fourteen now," he stated, as though it wasn't out of left field and a rather confusing thing to mention, given the situation.

"Good for him?" Hickory offered, shooting John a confused look.

John gave another hollow laugh, shaking his head as he sipped at his drink. "He's dead."

Hickory reeled back in surprise as if he'd been slapped, one hand going to his chest, while the other moved to hover in the air over John's shoulder. "Oh. I'm so sorry," he breathed, obviously not quite sure what to do with himself now.

"Yeah…I finally decided to go back home. It'd been ten years, y'know? I'd been running from my responsibilities for a long time. So I tried to go back, but…no one was there," John paused to swallow down more of his drink, the liquor just starting to make his head go a little bit fuzzy, "Not a single soul was anywhere. The tree I grew up in was rotting from the inside out, and our pod was in shambles. I thought, for just a minute, that maybe my family had escaped, or run away, but then I found-" he choked on tears, covering his mouth to stifle a sob.

"It's okay, John Dory," Hickory said softly, letting his hand settle on John's back to rub gentle little circles there, "Let it out."

A moment passed before John managed to suck air back into his lungs, coughing quietly as he struggled to get the next words out. "My youngest brother, he was only four when I left. I found drawings of his on a desk. They were so fucked up," he wheezed, tipping the bottle back into his mouth once again. He hiccupped and shook his head as he continued, "Drawings of trolls getting eaten. And then I found words carved into the wall. There's no way, if anyone was around, they'd let him do that. My baby brother had to have been left all alone, before he probably got eaten, too." Another broken sob ripped itself from his chest as he doubled over his knees, clinging to the bottle in his hands like his life depended on it. He barely even registered Hickory still rubbing at his back and murmuring quiet little reassurances at him. "I should've been there," he finally wailed, sitting up and turning a wild look on Hickory, who sat back in surprise, "If I'd been there, maybe I could've done something. Maybe we could've escaped together, and-and…I don't know." He slumped back down, the bottle slipping from his fingers, allowing him to bury his face in his hands.

A few minutes passed, before he finally registered the feeling of fingers carding through his hair. Slowly, he lifted his head to find Hickory giving him the most sympathetic look he could muster through his stupid scruffy beard, his fingers gently combing along John's scalp before slipping through his hair. John wiped at his face, sitting himself up and somewhat lamenting the loss of Hickory's fingers as the bounty hunter tucked his hands back into his lap.

"Feeling any better now?" Hickory asked quietly, watching as John pulled his goggles off his head and tossed them aside.

"Got a bit of a headache," John admitted, rubbing at his forehead.

"That'll happen when you drink around a bottle and a half of booze, then cry your eyes out, without eating," Hickory said with a sad little laugh, watching John intently.

"Yeah," John sighed, grabbing a random rag from the floor to blow his nose, ignoring the way Hickory scrunched his face up at the action.

"Have you been doing this a lot? Drinking yourself silly when you think about your brother?"

"Brothers," John corrected idly, tossing the rag towards the rough proximity of his garbage can, "I had four younger brothers."

"I'm sorry…but that doesn't answer my question."

John sighed, rubbing at his eyes, noting that his vision swam minutely at the action. Apparently he'd managed to drink a bit more than he'd thought. He grunted quietly, shifting to sit back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. "For the last few months, yeah. I ran away from my family when they needed me most, and they all died before I could get the chance to make anything right. You can't blame me for not wanting to think about that. Booze helps."

Hickory shifted on the couch next to him, making a quiet humming sound. "I get wanting to drown your sorrows, I do. I've done it once or twice. But, I can tell you from experience, it'll only make things so much worse in the long run."

"Pretty sure you're younger than me," John muttered idly, tilting his head so he could watch the bounty hunter from the corner of his eye, "Shouldn't I be the one giving you sage advice?"

Hickory chuckled, combing his fingers through his wild, foliage filled locks, a few leaves cascading down to settle on John's couch. "Probably. Got any advice for someone currently running from their family?"

"Try giving them a chance," John sighed, reaching out to take Hickory's hand in his own. "You never know how much time you have left with them."

Hickory watched John with a pitying sort of expression for a moment, before giving a small nod. "Yeah, okay. I guess I can give my brother another shot."

John simply nodded, a sad smile on his face, before he tipped his head back and let his eyes slip shut. The two of them sat together on the couch with their hands entwined for quite a while, until someone came knocking on Rhonda's door looking for 'Silas'. Slowly, Hickory extracted his hand from John's and got up from the couch, the teal troll watching through half lidded eyes as he walked towards the door.

"I'll see you in the morning, John Dory," Hickory said as he got to the door, before disappearing through it.

John didn't stay until morning.

Once night fell, and all of the trolls in the camp were asleep, John crept through the tents until he found where Hickory was sleeping. As stealthily as he could, he tucked a small note under the edge of the bounty hunters pillow, simply stating 'Thanks for listening - JD', before sneaking off.

Back at Rhonda, he quietly urged her to move, leading her away from the camp, before climbing aboard and driving her away. As much as he appreciated Hickory offering an understanding ear, he didn't think he could really face him come morning. Or anytime soon, really. These burdens were his to bear, and it really wasn't fair of him to dump them on Hickory, who had his own issues to deal with.

And so, John spent the next several years roaming around anywhere and everywhere that Rhonda could go, trying to get a handle on his sorrow and work on being himself again, while also actively avoiding any green trolls with orange hair that he happened to spot. Something deep in his chest yearned to try and find Hickory again after that fateful evening spent in companionable silence, but he just couldn't bring himself to face the other troll until he could truthfully, and with his whole chest, say that he was doing okay again. And, perhaps then, they could actually start to properly get to know each other.

Everything seemed to finally be working out for John Dory, nearly ten years after discovering the troll tree in shambles. He managed to get himself sober, he was taking care of himself and Rhonda, and he was finally having fun travelling again. At least, he'd thought everything was going well, until one day while driving Rhonda through the funk troll territory and humming along to the radio, he suddenly felt like all of the joy was sucked out of him. He gasped at the jarring sensation and slammed on Rhonda's breaks, watching his hands on the wheel as they turned grey.

"What?" he murmured to himself, his heart jumping into his throat in a panic at the sight of his grey fur. He'd heard stories, when he was a child, about trolls turning grey, but he'd never actually seen it. He'd always chalked it up to being some sort of cautionary tale, especially after he'd fallen so far into the pits of despair all those years ago and had only ever dimmed in color.

He jumped from the drivers seat and hurried to look at himself in the bathroom mirror, finding what looked to be a ghost of himself staring back. He gingerly touched his face, feeling tears starting to well in his eyes, before he heard something on the radio. Someone declaring that the queen of pop had caused all trolls to lose their music. But that couldn't be right. All of the pop trolls were supposed to be dead.

But then something else came on the radio. Something that wasn't quite music, but had a bit of a beat to it. John all but ran to the radio to turn it up, listening as beat boxing, clapping and odd techno sounds soon changed to a single, clear voice singing a slow, but hopeful tune, which was shortly joined by a second. One that was distinctly older, but John could recognize any of his brothers singing voices.

"…Branch?"

John cranked up the radio even further and hopped back into the drivers seat, steering Rhonda towards where the radio station was broadcasting, all previous worries about his grey fur going out the window at the prospect of his baby brother being alive. He barely even registered when his colors came back, too focused on the prospect of seeing any of his family again.

It took longer than John would have liked to get to the rock troll kingdom. The drive typically took a handful of days, but with the right route and treats for Rhonda, he figured they could make it in roughly three. However, on the way, he found a rather startling note taped to his door. The signature said it was from Floyd, but it obviously wasn't, as his hand writing wasn't nearly so fancy. The note changed things, though. It made John realize that he'd wasted so much time wallowing in guilt ridden sorrow, when he could have been out looking for his brothers. And now, with the dire nature of Floyd's note, he'd have to put his plans to find Branch on hold until he figured out if his second youngest brother was truly in danger.

Mount Rageous was not a place John had ever explored before, given how much larger the inhabitants were in comparison to trolls. But he'd gone and found Floyd, trapped just like the note had said.

When breaking the bottle proved to be impossible, and Floyd brought up the perfect family harmony, John was hesitant. Not in saving his brother, of course, but to the idea of presenting the thing that shattered their family apart as the only way to rescue Floyd to their brothers. Not to mention, he still had no idea if Clay and Spruce were even alive, or where they might be if they were. But he agreed, and left Floyd to go and collect his brothers.

Now he really needed to find Branch.

Finding his baby brother had sent John's heart soaring to the moon. Getting him on board to help save Floyd brought him back down to earth. The itching feeling slowly crawling up his spine as they stood amongst a crowd of Bergens made him feel like crawling into a hole. But eventually, and with much cajoling from Poppy, Branch agreed and John steered Rhonda as quickly as he could away from Bergen Town and off in search of his remaining brothers.

Finding and convincing Spruce and Clay to join in their rescue mission had been tedious, but thankfully successful. John had his family back! All of his brothers were alive and well (for the most part). Sure, they'd fought, with John falling back into terrible old habits, almost breaking them apart yet again, but they were alive. Though he'd just about had a heart attack when Floyd nearly died in front of his eyes, even after they managed to pull off the perfect family harmony. But, somehow, they'd brought him back from the brink and John's heart hadn't felt so full in years, even despite the heart breaking news of his grandmothers death.

Eventually, his brothers did have to go back to their own lives. Reluctantly, after spending a few weeks in Pop Village (HOW had he never found it?!) while Floyd recovered from the worst of his injuries, John drove Bruce and Clay back to their respective homes. He then debated on staying out in the wilderness with Rhonda for a bit, before ultimately deciding that the best place he could be was in Pop Village, offering any help and support he could to his two youngest brothers.

Upon returning to Pop Village, he was surprised to find Hickory, of all trolls, chatting up with the Queen of Pop and his youngest brother. After the initial burst of joy he had at seeing the other troll after so long, knowing he could finally tell him how much their last talk had meant to him, he quickly became suspicious. Hickory was decked out in a cowboy hat and jeans. Certainly not what a yodeler would be wearing. The last time John had spotted the bounty hunter through a crowd a few years back, he'd been wearing lederhosen and a stupid little hat that John had immediately hated. It made John worry that Hickory had been dragged back into working with his brother, and that Branch or Poppy could be in danger. He hoped with every fiber of his being that that wasn't the case, but he had to be sure.

"Hickory!" John shouted as he jogged towards the trio. Unlike the last time John had approached the bounty hunter, he had no qualms in calling his name. If he was trying to trick the queen and his brother, he wanted that out in the open immediately. Even if it meant he'd have to save Hickory from the pop trolls, instead of the other way around.

Luckily, though, instead of panic or anger at his name being called, Hickory perked up and grinned widely upon seeing John approach. He lifted a hand in a wave, stepping forward eagerly as John came to a stop in front of them. "John Dory," Hickory said with a laugh, pulling the teal troll into a friendly hug, "If it ain't my fishy friend! It's been a dogs age."

John had to keep himself from melting into the hug, overjoyed that someone would be so happy to see him. The cold shoulders he'd received from his brothers had nearly broken his heart. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Hickory with an awkward laugh as Branch's voice asking, "Fishy friend?" caught his attention.

"Because he's named after a fish," Hickory offered, turning to Branch with a grin. "Call it a bit of a runnin' joke between us."

"I can't believe you know John Dory," Poppy chirped next to him, "What a small world! How did you two meet?"

It was Hickory's turn to look awkward, as John let a wicked grin split his face. "Hickory tried to fleece me at poker."

"Well," Hickory was quick to cut in, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully, "I feel like that's a bit of an oversimplification of what happened."

"Is it, though?" John snorted a laugh, enjoying the way Poppy giggled behind her hand at Hickory's obvious discomfort with how bluntly John described their first meeting. "As I recall, you were pretty confident that you'd be able to beat me. And then when you couldn't, you starting using cards tucked up your sleeve."

Hickory flushed, letting a stilted little cough escape him as he scuffed his heel on the ground. "I was just gettin' the hang of the whole gamblin' thing," he offered in way of explanation, but John wasn't having any of that.

"And the whole swindling thing, too, apparently," John added, folding his arms over his chest.

"I'm having a hard time believing that John, of all trolls, beat you at poker," Branch cut in with a snort, arching an eyebrow as he looked between the two.

"Grandma taught me Rummy before you were hatched," John said with a light laugh, reaching over to ruffle Branch's hair, much to the younger trolls chagrin, "I'm great at poker."

John couldn't help but notice the way Hickory was looking between him and Branch, seemingly completely bewildered at their interaction as his little brother shoved him away. John was tempted to let Hickory stew in his curiosity for a while, but was far too elated at being able to share his news with the other to bother trying to be coy. "He's my little brother," John said, realization dawning on Hickory's face, quickly followed by joy.

"That's fantastic!" Hickory crowed, yanking John into another hug, much to Poppy and Branch's blatant confusion, "I'm so happy for you!"

"Yeah," John laughed, squeezing Hickory back happily, before pulling away, "All of my brothers survived! My second youngest brother, Floyd, he's also in town right now. I just got back from taking the other two back home. They're all spread out, but they're alive."

"I, uhm, think it might be best if we let you two catch up for a bit?" Poppy interjected, leaning in towards where John and Hickory where practically huddled together.

"Oh! Excuse my manners, Miss Poppy," Hickory offered, sweeping his hat off his head and looking contrite, "That was mighty rude of me."

"Not at all," Poppy waved her hands in front of herself, smiling brightly, "I'm really happy to see you two reunite! You obviously have some catching up to do, so we'll just meet up with you again later, yeah?"

"That's mighty kind of ya," Hickory said, placing his hat back on his head, "I'll come an' find ya when we're done chattin'. How's that sound?"

"Sounds great," Poppy hummed, taking Branch's hand and tugging him away, even as he protested against leaving the two behind when he had questions, "Have fun!"

"We will," John called after them, waving until the royal couple were out of sight, before arching an eyebrow at Hickory. "Okay, spill. What's the cowboy get up for, and who are you after? I thought you were done with bounty hunting?"

Hickory blinked in mild surprise as John immediately launched into an interrogation, before chuckling quietly. "I am all done with huntin'," he sighed, wrapping an arm around John's shoulders and steering him towards the market, "Took a real long time, but I got out. I've got Poppy an' Branch to thank for that. In return, Miss Poppy asked that I visit Pop Village at least once a month to check in, an' make sure everythin' is still hunky dory. Mostly 'cause my brother wasn't too keen on me steppin' away again."

"So…you did find him again? After the folk trolls?" John asked, letting Hickory lead him to a set of table and chairs, outside a little cafe.

"Sure did," Hickory hummed, gesturing for John to wait as he trotted over to the counter and quickly placed an order. When he returned it was with two milkshakes in hand. He then sat across from John and slid one of the glasses across the table to him. "Picked up a real sweet tooth, hangin' out with Miss Poppy," he explained as John arched a perplexed eyebrow at the shake, "But, anyhow…yeah. After you vanished on me- thanks for the note, by the way- I kept to my word, an' went to go find Dickory. Didn't take too long, since apparently he'd been trackin' me. I told 'im I didn't wanna do huntin' no more, but he wasn't havin' any of that. Got real uppity with me, an' we had a pretty big fight. He apologized, but still didn't get out of huntin'. I spent the last nine or ten years bouncin' back an' forth like a yo-yo, tryin' to get out of the business. But then Queen Barb hired us to capture the Queen of Pop, an', well…here we are."

"So," John drew out the 'O' sound, his fingers curled absently around the cool glass of the milkshake, "That doesn't really explain why you're still in disguise."

Hickory let out a guffaw, shaking his head slightly. "Ain't no disguise. I spent a good bit of time with the country trolls, an' I finally figured out who 'Hickory' is. He ain't no bounty huntin' yodeler. He's a pretty laid back country troll, if I do say so myself. Which I do."

John felt a pleased little smile settle on his face as he reached across the table to place his hand over Hickory's. "I'm really happy you got to figure yourself out. And that you get to be yourself. And I'm sorry your brother never let you, before. Speaking as a bad older brother, myself, he never should've done that to you."

"I appreciate that," Hickory hummed, turning his hand over to give John's a gentle squeeze. "Now…tell me, where'd you run off to in the middle of the night, an' what've ya been up to since I last saw ya?"

John laughed heartily, drawing his hand away from Hickory to lean back in his chair. "I didn't really run off to anywhere in particular, honestly. I just didn't want to pile all of my baggage on top of what you were already dealing with. I just wound up back in the Neverglades. I sort of wished I'd stayed, though."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that? Picked up a taste for folk music?"

"No," John snorted, idly stirring his milkshake with his straw, "I should've stayed for you. I was only thinking about myself, but you probably could've used someone who actually knew who you were around, I'm sure. Plus, maybe then I could've helped you get away from bounty hunting sooner. Or, maybe-" John froze as Hickory reached across the table to flick him gently in the nose.

"Hey, now. Ain't no reason to go dwellin' on things we can't change," the ex-bounty hunter said with an easy smile.

John chuckled, tilting his head slightly with a smile of his own. "Yeah, but the past defines who we are. So, it's kind of important," he echoed his past self, causing Hickory to roll his eyes with a snort.

"That may be true, but what's really important are the decisions we make now. That way we can make sure that our future selves don't have no regrets about their past."

"You got so wise in your old age," John teased, propping his chin in his hand as he took a sip of his milkshake.

"You're one to talk, old man," Hickory shot back with a grin.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying their milkshakes, before an idea struck John and he reached across the table to flick Hickory in the nose, both for retaliation for earlier, and to catch the country trolls attention.

"May I help you?" Hickory laughed, rubbing at his nose.

"Yeah, actually. I was just thinking-"

"Don't hurt yerself."

"Shut up. I was thinking, if you come by Pop Village once a month to visit Poppy, where do you stay?"

Hickory frowned slightly, but shrugged. "Around. Usually someone's willin' to put me up for a night or two."

"Well, why don't you come stay with me?" John asked, drumming his fingers absently across the table. "Rhonda's even bigger than the last time you saw her. It'd be nice to actually get to know each other properly. And, y'know, see one another more frequently than every few years."

A slow smirk curled Hickory's lips as he steepled his hands in front of himself and leaned his chin on his fingers. "Why, John Dory," he hummed, "Are you asking me out on a standin' date?"

"What? No!" John sat back, nearly falling out of his chair in his haste, "I just thought it'd be nice! You can say no, if you think it'd be weird."

Hickory's expression softened as he dropped his hands back down to the table. "Never said I was opposed," he hummed, taking a sip of his milkshake, "I think that's a right fine idea. I usually come mid month, every month. It's when Miss Poppy has the most free time, in between all of the crazy holidays the pop trolls have."

"Great," John said, absently rubbing at one of his blatantly flushed cheeks before chugging down half his milkshake in one go. He let out a little breath as he set the glass down, glancing at Hickory who was simply watching him with a tender little smile. "It…it's a date, then."

For the next six months, Hickory arrived in Pop Village every month, just as he'd said he would, and spent the day with Poppy and Branch, catching up and gossiping about the goings on between Lonesome Flats and the village. He would then meander to where Rhonda parked at night, and spend the evening with John, swapping stories about anything and everything they had done in the years they hadn't seen each other, and generally getting to know one another. Frequently, Hickory would bring little gifts for John; simple little knickknacks or art he found and thought the teal troll would like, while John always made sure the food and snacks he had on hand for Hickory's visits were exclusively things the ex-bounty hunter declared were his favorites, or things he'd casually mentioned that he wanted to try. Both were always pleasantly surprised by the fact that the other had thought of them while they were apart.

And then one night, quite unexpectedly, Hickory slumped into John's lap while they'd been watching a movie, quiet little snores escaping him, and John felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. He'd never expected to develop feelings for the troll that had once punched him so hard that he passed out, but here he was, his face flushed the darkest teal it had ever been as he shakily let his fingers card through curly orange locks. He swallowed thickly, not letting a thought pass through his mind as he quietly whispered, barely audible above the movie, "I think I love you."

When the movie ended, Hickory woke with an undignified snort, earning a quiet laugh from John. "Have a good nap?"

"Yeah," Hickory grunted, sitting up and rubbing at his face, "Had a weird dream, though."

"Oh, yeah? Care to share?"

Hickory stretched his arms above his head, letting out a quiet groan, before turning to John with a curious little look. Hesitantly, he reached out and took John's hands in his own, brushing his thumbs gently over them. John simply watched him, slightly perplexed at the fact that Hickory was just staring at their hands, anxiety clearly growing in the ex-bounty hunter as his shoulders slowly started to creep up towards his ears and his expression began to scrunch up.

"Hey," John tried to soothe, tilting his head to try and catch Hickory's eye, "If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to tell me. I was just teasing."

"I know," Hickory was quick to reassure, lifting his gaze to meet John's eye, "I'm just pretty sure it wasn't really a dream. But, I can't be sure, an' I don't wanna freak you out."

John blinked, a tiny frown on his face, until it dawned on him what Hickory could be talking about. Slowly, he extracted his hands from Hickory's, ignoring the near inaudible noise of protest that left the ex-bounty hunter as he did it. Gently, and with mild trepidation, he cupped Hickory's face in his hands, doing his best to swallow down his nerves. "You can totally punch me, if this is out of line, okay?" he said, smiling crookedly at the way Hickory shook his head quickly at the offer. He then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hickory's, taking mild satisfaction at the surprised, but pleased little sound the country troll made.

When John pulled away he licked his lips and quirked an eyebrow at Hickory, who looked a little dazed. "Was that…was that okay?" he asked, his thumb absently stroking along Hickory's cheek bone.

"Hooweee," was Hickory's only response for a minute, his gaze slightly unfocused as he lifted his hands to hold John's to his face. "Oh, uh…yeah. Yeah, that was great," he finally said, blinking to focus on John with a dopey little smile on his face. "I think I love you, too, by the way."

[onestepbackwards]

I've been following the Unity situation and its so fucking insane like holy shit. We have everything! - Absurd fees for devs! That may or may not be retroactive and illegal, but we won't say until you cause a stink about it! (We totally aren't shh we wouldn't break the law. Totally :) ) - Getting rid of one of their levels of subscriptions during all of this, The 'Plus Plan', and allegedly putting you on the more expensive 'Pro' subscription if you auto renew! - Insider trading! Selling their stocks not even a week before they released this new change in their company! x x They've since backpedaled from what their original plan was. Originally, they told everyone that every Install, reinstall, dlc, demo, and pirated copy would now cost a fee (with few exceptions, such as charity games and bundles) It's not hard to see how this could tank an indie company with ease. Mad at a dev/company? Just mass install/uninstall. Now they are apparently saying that 'nonono! We only meant the original install :)' Which also opens the door as to how they are tracking installs. They so far have seemed to be avoiding as to how on earth they are going to do that without breaching privacy on a computer. Especially when it could just be easier to make a fee based on purchases, but no. x

So you know, don't worry guys, they have their own 'proprietary data model.' But so far (As i type this, or am aware of) have not given details about how that model works. When asked about stuff such as Xbox Gamepass, Unity mentioned it would be Microsoft paying for the fees. As of now, I have no idea if Microsoft was even told this, and I doubt they are going to agree to it either out of nowhere. x Another fun thing, is if you change your Unity plan, you are added to the revenue threshold immediately. Interesting that this is after they sneakily got rid of their Plus plan, which a lot of devs seemed to use.

And interesting enough, they seem to contradict themselves from their QnA and their official twitter post regarding Demo's and Early Access, or at least tried to be sneaky about the wording?? x x

They won't charge for demos or early access, until they do, apparently. Or if the demo has data that can be transferred to the main game, anyway. Unity also claimed this would only affect 10% of its users. Which is funny when you look at all the Indie devs and studios who are coming out on twitter saying that this actually directly hurts them. Not to mention all the people that have spent years learning this engine, for themselves, or so they can apply to companies using it. And now all of that was just spat on by Unity themselves. There's also the games that have been out and are built on this engine, and can't just be tossed and rebuilt. Such as Among us, Genshin Impact, Pokemon Go and the Diamond/Pearl remakes. Overall, it's a huge mess. Unity majorly screwed up. I'd recommend looking into what games you like, and if they run on Unity. If you don't have them yet, you may want to purchase them so they are in your steam library, or whatever console you play on. With the uncertainty of all of this, I wouldn't be surprised if some companies delist their games on steam. If you buy from them now, you'll still be able to support the devs before Unity implements this new fee plan. Plus, since you paid for them, they will still be on your console/in your steam library. Please stay safe ya'll, and support your local game devs during this storm. They need it.

[bumblesimagines]

Big fan of your work. Unsure if you're taking requests, but thought I'd reach out just in case. Keep up the awesome work!

Sarah Cameron

I knew you'd be dating them

how long did it take you to find someone new?

this is a little awkward i have to admit

I knew you'd be dating them

how long did it take you to find someone new?

this is a little awkward i have to admit

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, Gender Neutral!Reader

Requests for series and imagines are closed! I don't really count sentence starter lines as requests since I am asking for em to be sent in!

The rapid, insistent knocking on the front door echoed throughout the house, eliciting a groan from you as you tugged the headphones off your head and stood up from the couch. You headed down the short hall toward the front door and unlocked it, tossing it open without bothering to check the peephole. Your brows immediately furrowed at the group standing on your porch, their faces too familiar and consistent in your life to forget. The Pogues. 

"Uh, hey, (Y/N)!" Pope greeted, dropping his curled fist and shoving it in the pocket of his shorts. Your eyes flickered over to JJ, watching him slowly set the small cat statue back in its place with an awkward, sheepish smile. Your gaze moved away from the reckless blonde, trailing over the rest of the Pogues until they settled on Sarah fucking Cameron. She stared back at you with lips drawn in a tight-lipped smile. 

"Not interested." You told them and began closing the door, only for Pope to stick his leg in the gap and push back against it. You groaned again and relented, releasing the door and crossing your arms over your chest with a small scowl. Pope smiled innocently and cleared his throat, removing his leg from the doorway and glancing back at his friends. "Ya'll selling Girl Scout cookies or what?"

"No, actually," Pope laughed awkwardly. "We, uh... well, you see-"

"We need something from your great-aunt, (Y/N). Mrs. Crain? We- We were wondering if you could help us get on her property... without... dying... like her husband." Kiara swiftly cut in but her confidence bubbled down tremendously. You raised your brows, lips slowly curling upward into a half-amused half-bitter smile. 

"And why the hell would I help a bunch of strangers and my ex-girlfriend?" You questioned and relished in the shocked looks that passed over each of their faces, apart from Sarah, of course. She dipped her head immediately, fingers brushing through her golden locks as she forcibly cleared her throat and tugged her hand free from John B's. 

"Well...  this is a little awkward I have to admit," JJ muttered, scratching his temple and sucking his teeth. "We, uh, we did not know that."

"Yeah, I figured." You glanced at him before settling your attention on Sarah, lifting a brow at her when she refused to meet your gaze. "How long did it take you to find someone new? After, you know, you cheated on me with Topper Thornton and then broke up with him? To be honest, I knew you'd be dating him eventually. You've always loved a little chaos, haven't you, Sarah?" 

Pope glanced back at his friend and pursed his lips before he took a small step to shield her from your scathing glare. "Uhm, well, you two can chat about this later, I guess. Like J said, we didn't know. We just came here for a favor-"

"I know how you idiots work, Heyward. I do this and you'll be coming back whenever it's convenient. Like I said," You grabbed the door handle again and shot them a fake smile, shutting the door right in their faces after uttering, "Not interested."