#i was also supposed to have another fic done for today but I wasn't able to finish it

[agentplutonium]

Been in a weird writing funk for a few months now so I thought I'd try to write something small for y'all here. Of course, it is Milo/Sweetheart. Of course it is a comfort fic. This seems to be the theme when I am not in the best of spirits. Anyway, writing below the cut!!

"Sweets! I'm home!" Milo called as soon as he was in the door. The house was dark, something he noticed when he pulled into their driveway. The text that Milo sent to Sweetheart saying he was on his way home went ignored, which was unusual. The house was quiet too, which was also unusual.

Well, almost quiet, as the meows of Aggro started coming through the house as the cat made his way to Milo. Aggro found him as he was just putting his keys and wallet down, rubbing up against his legs and meowing up at him. He seemed a bit stressed more than usual, which worried him.

"Hi buddy," Milo said, a small smile on his face, bending down to pet him. "Where's Sweetheart?"

The cat blinked up at him for a second before taking off down the hallway. Milo followed without hesitation, worry creasing his brows. He knew that nothing bad had happened, but he still couldn't help but worry. They had bailed on the plans with the pack tonight because something came up at work again. They had been going nonstop for weeks at this point, early mornings leading to late evenings. It wasn't good for them, Milo could say that much. The tension that they carried in their body the last little bit was not fun to watch, or the growing dark circles under their eyes. Milo wished he could stop time every time he heard Sweetheart's alarm go off and they begrudgingly dragged themselves out of bed. Just to give them a few more moments of rest that he knew they deserved.

When Milo got to the bedroom, Aggro was staring at the closed door in front of him. Odd. Normally Sweetheart would leave it open enough for Aggro to come and go freely.

"Is this what had you so worried?" Milo asked him, to which he got a meow in response. Milo knocked gently on the door, ear pressed close to hear if they were in there. He didn't hear anything. A frown edged his lips. "Sweetheart? You in here?"

When he didn't get a response, he opened the door and stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dark fast and spotting a figure curled up in the bed. Aggro bolted under his feet and was on the bed in a split second. The figure on the bed stirred a bit as Aggro sniffed around before settling beside them.

As Milo turned on the bedside lamp, he realized that Sweetheart had fallen asleep still in their work clothes. He sighed, glad that they were okay and unharmed. He brushed some hair out of their face, hand trailing down their cheek afterwards. Sweetheart stirred a bit more, eyes blinking open at the touch.

"Well hello there," Milo said, a small giggle breaking out from under his breath. He still was rubbing gentle circles into their cheek.

"What time..." Sweetheart slurred, reaching for their phone that was haphazardly placed beside them. If Milo had to guess, they were likely on it before falling asleep, and it dropped when they were finally out. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Just after ten," Milo answered them when they frowned at their now dead phone. "Just got home."

"Sorry," Sweetheart muttered, rubbing their eyes.

"Don't apologize," Milo said, fondness dripping from his words. "But, I tell you what. Why don't you finally get out of these clothes and put on some pyjamas? It might be a bit more comfortable."

Sweetheart nodded, sitting up with the guidance of Milo's hands, a yawn spiling from their lips.

"Stay here," Milo whispered to them, crossing the room to the dresser, rooting around for a pair of pyjamas.

"You don't have to--" Sweetheart started.

"I want to, though," Milo cut them off, already walking back. "I'm still wondering how you were able to fall asleep like this," he said jokingly, placing the pyjamas beside them and plucking off their glasses.

"Was tired after work, and it was, like, 7 PM by the time I got home. I had already eaten so I was just gonna lay down for a little bit. Looks like I ended up falling asleep," Sweetheart explained.

"It must have been a long day," Milo commented, reaching for their wrist so that he could take off their watch. He kissed along their knuckles when he was done, and he just caught the small smile that graced their lips at the motion.

"Something like that," Sweetheart sighed.

He turned to place the items on the bedside table as Sweetheart started to change. When that was done, he reached for their phone to plug it in, already setting the alarms that they set every night in the process. It was quiet in the room, but Milo didn't mind that. As long as he could feel Sweetheart's aura pulsing from them in time with their core, that was all he needed. Not to mention Sweetheart was still half asleep, there probably wasn't anything that they wanted to talk about.

"Are you hungry?" Milo asked after he finished his tasks, pressing a kiss into Sweetheart's shoulder. "When was the last time you ate?"

"At six," Sweetheart said. "Supper was bought for us when we had to stay behind. It was very nice actually. Though..."

"You want a small snack don't you?" Milo teased, already moving back toward the kitchen. "The usual?"

"Please," Sweetheart said. There was a pause before Milo heard their feet come padding behind him. "I love you," They added from behind him.

"I love you too," Milo said, hand instinctively reaching behind him. Sweetheart's fingers intertwined with them in a heartbeat, making Milo's chest fill with warmth. "Some would even say I love you more."

"Impossible," Sweetheart said, chuckling.

In the kitchen, Sweetheart didn't break away from him until he handed them their smoothie drink from the fridge. Milo grabbed the last of the strawberries from the fridge, and grabbed a bowl and a knife, before settling beside where they sat on the counter.

"How was the party?" Sweetheart asked. "Did you have fun?"

"Not as much fun as I would've if you were there," Milo said sincerely. He loves his pack, of course he does, but he also loves showing off for Sweetheart who loves his antics. Secretly.

"Oh, stop," Sweetheart said, but even when they took a sip of their drink they weren't able to hide their smile.

"And the pack missed you," Milo added. "Got asked where you were at least every few minutes for the first, like, half hour."

"They missed me that much?"

"You've barely been around for three weeks at this point, Sweets, of course they have," Milo said. "They love you."

Sweetheart didn't answer, but Milo could sense that they were glowing without even looking at them. When he did glance at them, he was caught by their beauty again. Even like this, with their hair a mess, cheeks red with sleep, and the last remaining lines fading from their skin. God, was he ever lucky to have them.

When Sweetheart realized what he was doing, they groaned, pushing his face away from them. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" Milo asked, chuckling.

"Looking at me like that!"

"Like you're the only person in the whole world?" Milo asked.

Sweetheart didn't answer, just grumbled something, much to Milo's amusement. "Just focus on the strawberries before you cut your finger off."

"Please," Milo said, "I could do this in my sleep."

"I'm not rushing you to the hospitable if you hurt yourself," Sweetheart said.

"Sure," Milo said. "The love of my life, my mate, wouldn't bat an eye if I accidentally cut myself."

"I wouldn't," Sweetheart said.

"Which is totally reasonable," Milo said, "especially after I've been terrorizing you with my lov--ow!"

Milo dropped the knife, clutching his right thumb with his other hand. Sweetheart immediately reacted, placing their drink down and grabbing for his hand.

"What did I tell you! Here, let me see," They chided, brows creasing together as they pried his fingers away from his thumb to see--nothing. Sweetheart stared at his thumb for a few moments, blinking, before they groaned again. "You jerk!" They said, lightly pushing him away. "I was worried about you!"

"So you do worry when I hurt myself," Milo teased.

"You're evil," Sweetheart grumbled, crossing their arms.

Milo hummed, scootching over so that he could settle between their legs, a hand automatically settling on their thigh. "You love me," he said, his other hand coming up to cup the back of their neck and pull them in for a kiss. For someone who thought he was evil, they sure did respond to his touch, melting into him the second their lips touched.

"Evil," they muttered against his lips, though with considerably no force behind it.

"Will this make up for it?" Milo asked after he pulled away, reaching for the bowl beside them and presenting it.

"Maybe," Sweetheart said. They accepted the offered bowl.

"Dork," Milo muttered fondly, stealing a strawberry half. Sweetheart didn't respond, just wrinkling their nose at him. "Do you have the weekend off?"

Sweetheart nodded. "Finally."

"Perfect," Milo said, smiling.

"I swear to God if you say 'like you'--"

"Like you," Milo said, chuckling when Sweetheart lightly smacked his chest. "Eat, so we can go to bed."

--END--

[brain-amoeba]

Hi!!! I love your writings I'm addicted!!!!! Could I maybe request a sniper fic in which the "oh no only one bed" trope encounter (perhaps just in his van) but the reader was already wearing something revealing and it's driving him kind of nuts. He like gets more and more frustrated and eventually just kind of makes a brutally honest move in initiating an intimate moment (if yk what I mean)?? I know it's weirdly specific and idm if you skip this one!!! Also Sniper and the reader were not in a relationship before this encounter. Ty!!!!

I had so much fun writing this one tbh hopefully I was able to faithfully capture what you had envisioned!!!!-- i admit i wrote sniper a wee bit out of character towards the end but that was mostly a plot driven choice for the frustration bit :3 enjoy!!!!

Stake Out (Sniper x fem!Reader)

Sniper didn't understand why he couldn't just be alone. He's never needed another person to watch his back while on a stake-out, and he damn sure doesn't need one now. Admittedly, he's quite frustrated. With you? Not exactly. With the situation? Damn straight. The dead of summer heat left you scantily clad, much to Sniper's detriment. How could he bear to get anything done when you're sitting right here next to him like this, as if on display? You weren't exactly a happy camper, either. You knew Sniper didn't need any help, so you were already prepared to deal with a sour attitude-- but the unbearable heat and the fact that you have no choice but to spend a night together in his one-man van--left you equally as frustrated as the Aussie.

As the afternoon dragged on, you let out an exasperated sigh and turned to your superior. "Is it okay if I take a nap?" You ask meekly, afraid of distracting him as he peered through his scope wordlessly. Sniper pauses a moment, then sets his rifle down. "A nap? Wasn't your whole reason for bein' 'ere to watch my back?" The look on his face sent a shiver down your spine. It was just an innocent question, really! You figured since it was an unspoken fact that the both of you knew you didn't really need to be here, it would be okay if you, well, slacked a bit. You cock your head to the side before testing the waters again. "...yes?" He stared at you with an expression you were unable to read. Was he mad? Was he just pulling your leg? Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, looking back up at you sternly. "Sure." It was hard to deny that his pent up frustration, among his general discontent with today's circumstances, left him irritable. From the bloody start he just wished he could be alone. None of this would have happened! Now how is he supposed to concentrate with the temptation of your vulnerable, unconscious body left splayed out before him mere feet away?! He shooed you along, allowing you to sleep in the camper while he did a little exercise in self control and maintained watch on enemy territory.

Upon entering, you thought nothing more of your surroundings and crashed on the bed with a soft thud. It was almost too easy to fall asleep, until you shot straight up and felt panic set in. Oh god. This is the only bed in this whole camper. The only viable surface to lay on, period. You were suddenly plagued with the image of a scowling Sniper, and the discomforting silence that hung around the two of you all day. How on earth are we supposed to sleep in this bed together?! The thought of cuddling with your superior after you were sure you just ruined his whole day made you tremble with anxiety. You thought it best to set your worries aside for now to get some rest. Perhaps if you slept now, that meant you could stay up on watch through the night while Mundy got his rest--avoiding the bed predicament entirely. As you pondered on what exactly you'd like to say and played out the interaction in your head, you lulled yourself to sleep with your own thoughts. The heat left you laid out on top of the covers with your sweat-soaked garments hugging your body like a constrictor. Right as you fell asleep, Sniper, with his brief solitude, was able to clear his head and abate his frustration for the time being.

With no new action on the frontier, he decided to take a small break to check on you, making sure you at least were comfortable back there. Sniper knew it wasn't exactly a home, and felt a slight twinge of guilt having such a beautiful girl like you surrounded in his clutter. The Aussie gently knocked before entering still, and was greeted by the sight of you, out cold in a starfish position. He stumbled back, instinctively snatching off his hat and using it to cover his eyes. Guess she made herself comfortable. He thought to himself, hiding his flushed expression behind the slouch hat. Sniper set the hat back on his head, clearing his throat to try and escape the awkward silence between himself and your unconscious form below him. Mundy knew he had no business back here anymore--all he was to do was assure you found yourself alright back there, then he would return to his post. Yet, he found he couldn't bring himself to move. His eyes were glued to your body, as if its beauty had taken hold of him. You could still feel an overbearing presence, even in your unconscious state, which caused you to stir. Sniper inched closer to you, against his better judgment. The pent up frustration from spending a whole afternoon next to you, wearing the least amount of clothing you could get away with...it drove him absolutely mad. Even more so, knowing there was nothing he could do about it--he couldn't make a move, he was a professional after all! ...And professionals have standards. Before finally returning to his post, he hastily covered your limp form with a used towel discarded nearby. Out of sight, out of mind.

The afternoon waned into evening, and not long thereafter plunged the frontier into night. Still no new sights to behold, Sniper quickly wrapped up the stake-out. After notating the last of his findings, he started the van with an exasperated sigh. 'Bout damn time this bloody day's over. I can finally relax. He thought to himself. As he maneuvered the van to a more discrete location, Sniper's thoughts were suddenly interrupted with the damning realization of the sleeping situation. Meanwhile, the engine sounds and sudden sensation of movement woke you from your slumber. You rubbed your eyes as you took a moment to regain awareness, still stuck in the drunken stupor of your slumber. You looked down at the towel serving as your blanket, and couldn't help but notice the familiar musky scent of your superior overwhelming your senses. A light blush dusted your cheeks as you realized this meant Sniper had come in and covered you up. You sat up now, and peered through the blinds of a nearby window. You found yourself lost in admiration of the purplish tranquility of the sleeping desert before you. So much so, that you hadn't noticed the van had stopped, nor the sound of Sniper joining you in the camper.

Upon turning away from the window you shrieked in surprise. "When did you get there?!" You asked, startled from the sudden company of your superior. "Well, if you'd get your head out of the sand you'd've noticed I came in about," He starts, checking his watch for dramatic effect, "5 minutes ago." You rolled your eyes at his attitude while scooting away from the window and pulling the towel back over yourself. "I just don't understand how a dry death-scape can become subzero in just a matter of hours." You remarked, now shuddering from the cold. "Uhh, yeah...about that," Sniper trailed off, his edge now softened by embarrassment. "How d'ya wanna do this? I shouldn't have to state the obvious..." He deliberately avoided eye contact with you as he spoke. Now it was your turn to serve that Aussie attitude right back at him. "What's wrong? The world's greatest sniper is scared of a wittle bed?" His gaze snapped to you, slightly taken aback by your sass. "Whatd'ya just say to me?" Sniper pressed on. His brows were furrowed in growing anticipation and he almost wished you'd keep up your act. Thankfully, you delivered. "You heard me! It's just a bed. Or is it not the bed...is it me? You don't wanna share a bed with me??"

Admittedly, you had no idea where you pulled the confidence from to speak to your superior like this. Perhaps it was just frustration from a day wasted, or dwindling tolerance for his own sour attitude. Whatever it was, you knew you were already so deep in a hole you figured you might as well make it deeper. Sniper moved closer in response to your questioning. "You think I'm scared of a little bed? Or a little girl, no less?!" The gap between the two of you was nonexistent. "No, I'm not scared at all, roo. I figured'ya wanna sleep alone. But I guess I was wrong, yea? You really wanna share a bed?" He threw your sass right back at you and now you were in a corner. Literally-- he towered over you, causing you to scoot back until you met the foot of the bed in question. Sniper pursued, leaving you caged between himself and the bed. "Sure, roo, we can share the bed. Why, let's just go ahead and get right in." He suddenly scooped you into his surprisingly robust arms and sat down on the bed with you still in his embrace.

He held you almost too tight, and you instinctively straddled him. While sitting in his lap, you felt his erection poke the soft flesh between your thighs. Your flushed faces were mere inches apart, and before you could open your mouth to speak, Sniper grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a fervent, aggressive kiss. It didn't take you long to reciprocate, letting your hands wander along his jawline and neck innocently as he pushed further, now breaching the territory of your mouth with his tongue. The throbbing wetness between your legs begged for reprieve, and you shyly rocked your hips against Sniper's to get the friction you so desperately needed. He broke the kiss, a glinting trail of saliva still connecting the two of you in a depraved, arousing kind of way. Large gloved hands trailed down your sides, one of them finding itself between your legs. Sniper teasingly ghosted his fingers just above, below, and around exactly where you wanted them to be which caused your legs to tremble in anticipation and now-bubbling over arousal. Suddenly, he removed his hand entirely, looking back at you with an impish smirk.

"Scared enough for ya, roo?"

[yeehawbvby]

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun | Ch. 1

March x F!Farmer

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: The farmer hangs out at the forge on a rainy day!

Author's Note: I wasn't planning to post this until I completed the whole thing, but I got too excited after mapping out my plans for the rest of it LMAO.

The kind comments I got here and on ao3 about December after my last FoM fic boosted my confidence enough to write more about her. That took place before this one, so I recommend reading it if you haven't already!

I hope y'all enjoy this :3 x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Next

December woke up with a gasp. 

Her pale skin was moist and clammy, and her white fringe clung to her forehead, having escaped the confines of the clips she often held it back with while she slept. She had a throbbing headache, too. Her dreams had been ruthless, and she spent the night tossing and turning restlessly as a result. 

It wasn’t uncommon for this to happen when she was nearing significant times of the year. For starters, it was the first day of spring — the first day of December’s second year in Mistria. It had also been roughly a year since she left Aldaria’s adventurer’s guild, which she’d joined three years prior. It was a bittersweet change from her snowboarding career, something she’d given up about two years ahead of that after an accident that she would swear up and down was due to a loss of passion and its resulting supposed carelessness.

No matter what horrors December had faced while slaying monsters and saving lives, it never compared to the trauma of landing a move with a loud and excruciating crunch in her hips and knees, a face full of snow, and ultimately darkness when another, louder crunch reverberated through her neck. 

She could’ve easily died that day. The fact that she made it out of her coma afterwards was a damn miracle.

It was a time she re-lived often in her slumber, like last night, and it was the predominant reason why she kept a slew of medications in the drawer of her nightstand. SSRIs. Benzos. Anti-inflammatories, both in over-the-counter and prescribed doses. Steroids for worse days, like today; her joints ached more than usual, and if rain hadn’t already been pitter-pattering against her windows, she would’ve known from her body’s signals that a storm was brewing.

That moment in her earlier 20s was also the reason December craved simplicity. Safety. Not a boring life, but one where she was able to feel impactful without risking everything on a daily basis. 

Her life in Mistria thus far had been perfect for that. But she couldn’t just wave a hand and magically erase what had already happened, so the frequent nightmares and chronic pains were something she’d just have to deal with.

Goose jumped up onto the bed and made a bee-line for December’s torso, purring contentedly while he rubbed his head against her chin once he was situated. Although the cuddles were welcome, it took only a few moments of her lips being tickled by black and white fur for her to abandon ship. She lifted the cat up and held him close, reassuring him that she’d continue snuggling once she readjusted. 

Her vision blurred and sparkled as she sat up. She leaned against the cool wallpaper beside her while she waited for it to pass, taking deep breaths in an attempt to speed up the process and giving Goose neck scratches to distract herself from it. 

She figured she could try to map out her day while this went on, too. She wouldn’t have to tend to her crops because of the rain, so that was nice. Wouldn’t have to worry about ringing the animals in and out of their homes either. On a worse day like this, not having to listen to the clanging of the large bell Hayden had trained them to respond to was more than welcome.

December couldn’t really afford to just sit around and relax, despite everything. There was still plenty to be done: errands to run, forage to gather, materials to acquire for Adeline’s projects, ores to mine and smelt and smith… she felt there was no good in putting her life on hold, even for a little bit. So after patting a few kisses to Goose’s forehead, December set him down on her pillow and went on with her usual morning routine. 

Her meds went down easy, her breakfast was quick and light, and she let the warm water of her shower soothe her weary body for longer than what was probably necessary. After making sure Goose was fed and watered, she did the same with her barn and coop animals, stopping to give each of them some love along the way. And after that, she decided that she’d spend the day at the forge. She was due for a pickaxe upgrade, and it couldn’t hurt to craft a new sword too if she had the time.

She always felt a little excited to go there. December was by no means a fan of smithing — the heat of the furnace made her skin crawl, and the loud clanging of hammers on steel made her wish she didn’t have ears — but she didn’t hate doing it in the rain or snow, and enjoyed spending time with March and Olric.

For the longest time, she didn’t entirely know what to make of Aldaria’s self-proclaimed greatest blacksmith. That didn’t stop her from developing feelings though. March seemed to never know how to treat her, and that didn’t bother her most of the time — if anything, she thought it was very endearing, and found enjoyment in riling him up — but it could get a bit confusing. 

She’d already known that he doesn’t dislike her anymore; and about half a year into her residency in Mistria, he’d stopped basically going after her on-sight. He’d begun to do kind things like teach her his smithing techniques when she struggled, buy her a drink if they ran into each other near Darcy’s stall on Saturdays, and he had tended to her wounds after a particularly rough day in the mines just a few months ago. She’d argue that the last experience softened him even more.

As she passed the inn and waved her hellos to the villagers scrambling to shelter from the weather, December wondered, why was March still so closed off? Why did he try so hard to push her away some days, even after she “proved herself” by being a significant part in restoring Mistria?

The farmer mused that maybe it was their names. Was he mad that there was another month-name in town? She smiled to herself while approaching the fountain, wondering how he’d feel if she tried to duel him about it.

She might as well. Maybe he’d feel like playing today. 

Unsurprisingly, the man in question was outside working hard as ever, keeping himself dry and his metal relatively hot with the large red canopy tent he and Olric often set up on days like this. He only noticed December approaching when she walked through a particularly deep puddle, creating a small splash beneath the weight of her combat boots. 

March directed his attention back to his work just about immediately. 

Foolish mistake. 

Claiming a spot on the opposite side of the anvil, December lifted her hands from her pockets, pointing finger-guns at him with both. The motion in his peripherals prompted March to look back up, and December noticed that he seemed to fight a laugh at the sight before him. 

“What are you doing?”

Her natural voice, although slightly raspy, was light and gentle. She did her best to lower it an octave and put on a drawl anyway for the bit, “This town ain’t big enough for the both of us.” She failed horribly. 

March chewed his bottom lip for a short moment. He was really struggling not to giggle. It made her feel proud. 

“What?”

“Put ‘em up.”

“I’m not—“

December squinted and made a few pew sounds as she flicked her wrists. 

To her absolute delight, March played along.

His brows raised while he observed her movements, patiently standing his ground as if he wasn’t being brutally wounded. Once she settled, he lifted his chin and his hammer with a sly grin, locked his nearly-black eyes onto December’s icy blue ones, and raised the weapon over his head, swinging it in her general direction.

As she clutched her metaphorical pearls and began to feign taking a hit, December took note of how his intense look had made her heart race. Maybe she was falling harder than she thought.

She swiftly pushed that idea back and moved onto wishing that things could always be this way: March messing around with her too, no (well, some) questions asked, rather than trying so hard to be all stone-cold and macho in the wake of her goofiness. She liked it when he allowed her to know she was his friend, rather than having to assume. She’d cherish the feeling while she had it for now.

“You monster.” 

After the exclamation, December straightened herself out and made her way to the stone wall behind her assailant. Over the past year, the corner connecting the wall and the water basin had become the designated spot for her stuff to reside while she smithed. 

“Get better aim,” March quipped, dipping his metal… blob, in its current state, back into the fire for a moment before going back to shaping it. 

After gathering the ores she’d be smelting, December removed her jacket and draped it atop her backpack to protect it from potentially being flooded. It sucked that it would just be in the way if it were under the canopy with them, but while she could leave it inside the shop, she preferred having her things in sight. 

Once she placed her ores down near the furnace, she closed in on March, asking, “How’s this then?” while lifting a single finger-gun to his temple. 

She made the same noises as earlier to mimic gunshots before he could properly react.

Reluctantly, March smiled, swatting her hand away. She couldn’t help but smile herself — she loved breaking his facade more than most things.

After a glimpse at her curled lips and dimpled cheeks, a sight he enjoyed far more than he wanted to let on, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have some dirt to shovel?”

Tying her hair into a high ponytail and putting on some protective gear, December responded, “Unfortunately for you, I was planning to hang out here all day.”

March groaned. “Just don’t get in my way.”

“Only if you don’t get in mine.”

The door to the smithy opened. It was probably Olric on his way over.

“Do I ever?” 

December ignored March’s question in favor of greeting his brother with a smile and wave before getting started.

“Hey, it’s December! Nice!”

“She’s not here to help, you know,” March told him. 

“So what?”

“Ugh.”

December turned away from her task to blow a raspberry at March. Another eye roll was all he gave back before locking into his craft again.

Olric stretched his arms across his chest and behind his back while he made his way towards the farmer. “Jo and Hemlock are having everyone at the inn again tonight. Are you coming?”

She shrugged, feeding her silver into the crusher to be broken down. “Depends how much work I get done here.” 

“Come on,” he grinned, “it’ll be fun!”

“Are you trying to make me give up on this?”

Olric jested, two gloved thumbs up, “I suppose I’d never turn down a sale!” 

“I would,” December mumbled. “Shit’s expensive.”

March grumped, “Go complain to a smith in the capital and let me know how it goes.”

“I never said it shouldn’t be expensive. You guys are crazy good at this.” Prepping the coals now that her ores were ready for smelting, December reasoned, “I just prefer to make my own things.”

Olric beamed and patted her on the shoulder. “Very resourceful of you!” The gentle giant didn’t know his own strength, though, and jostled her more than intended. 

To save herself, December batted him away with the too-long fingertips of her borrowed gloves, prompting him to finally go and help March out with their copious amounts of nails. It was almost comical how many of those orders they fulfilled on a daily basis.

March sighed, pausing for a moment while Olric took his place opposite to him. The redhead made sure to nod his head to the side, prompting his brother to scoot further down with him to make room for December to work. 

“You know,” he added, “for someone who’s always telling me to take more breaks, you’re pretty bad at it yourself.”

“‘Do as I say, not as I do,’ or whatever.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I ban you from using the forge?” he smirked. 

As if it were the most logical answer possible, December stated, “We fight to the death.” 

“Again?” 

March couldn’t see it, but December smiled at the nod he made to their earlier “battle.” 

“A lover’s quarrel..?” Olric wondered. It was barely audible, but loud enough for the two to hear and jump into defense-mode.

“Huh?” December turned to look back at him, wide-eyed and red-cheeked — a rare sight, given how little she usually expressed with her face beyond her mouth — while March told him to fuck off, his own complexion now beet-red and his eyes still plastered on the metal. The older brother snickered, not responding to either of them.

Carefully pouring her molten silver into the multi-ingot mold beside her, December groaned. “If I agree to go, will you stop bugging me about it?” she asked lightheartedly.

“I could be persuaded.” 

She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. March, unfortunately, couldn’t pass up the chance to see her smile again, so he paused his work and watched as she moved to dip her cast in the water nearby before quickly stopping her in the act. 

He called out a stern “Hey.” Once he got her attention, he shook his head, silently telling her to stop. December froze in place, her stare swimming with curiosity. 

March nodded to the cubby of equipment nestled into the side of the shop and next to the furnace, before instructing her to do the following: grab a pan and a hand towel from it, wet and ring out the towel, then place the towel in the pan and the mold on top of that. 

He felt his heart swell with pride as she nodded along, following his instructions. Her only question in the process was why she needed to do this, March’s answer being that it would prevent water damage to the metal.

He’s had a few apprentices here and there that thought they were too high and mighty to do something as simple as follow his directions. But she trusted his judgment completely, even now that she was an incredible smith herself. Something about that made him feel… well, something. 

He heard Olric laugh out of his nose and finally turned his attention away from the girl to glare, his cheeks pink again. His brother had been watching the whole interaction and was visibly excited by how smitten March was.

Removing the quickly-cooled ingots from their molds and dipping one into the fire, December finally decided, “I guess I could use a drink...”

“It’s on March!” Olric volunteered his brother, his wide grin sparkling with mischief. 

He’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to nudge March to make the move he’d secretly wanted to for so long.

Little did he know it only made March more reluctant. The blacksmith didn’t like being told what to do, nor did he like when people would beat around the bush. He’d gladly suffer for the sake of his own stubborn nature.

March scoffed, “Why would I do that?”

December joined the brothers, ready to begin shaping her silver. As she reached March’s side — not too closely, lest she whack him in the face with her hammer or be burnt by his own materials — she gave a featherlight kick to his calf. 

“You tell me,” she teased, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Whatever.”

“So you’re in?” 

“Yeah,” December nodded at Olric, “I’ll go.”

[justagalwhowrites]

OMG!!! I'm so frustrated! It's… ugh!!!!! So mad! ''New in Town'' was supposed to be a piece of cake, you know, the kind of story I don't obsess with. I already have Yearling for that. I guess it's not like that anymore, and I love it!😍 I was smiling as soon as I saw the update. The kind of smile it's so big it hurts. LOL. The whole smut stuff was sooooo hot, the bathroom, and don't get me on the sundress scene. And it's also so sweet, I mean, the candy! And the sticky note and the latte in the fridge! They are so gone on each other! It would be sickening if it wasn't so well written. But let's get into the big deal, Who is the new character? One of the reader's past boyfriends? Does that mean we'll see some feral Joel?😱

Any tips on how Sarah'll know the truth? Are you more into her caching them in some compromising position? Or maybe she finds some incriminating photos? Or are you more into them talking to Sarah like adults? Not as fun, but still plausible.

I haven't forgotten about ''Loathe/Lust''. I haven't been able to read it until today. I like this snarky reader. Despite being a one-shot, their relationship progress doesn't feel rushed. The way they bicker while taking care of each other, wounds or pleasure, is fun to read. Have you thought of doing a second chapter?

I hope I'm not being annoying. I didn't have much luck in the past trying to share my love for fanfiction, and here, there are a lot of people with the same or even more passion than me, and I might be a little too excited about it. Tell me, if I need to tone it down, no problem!♥️

AHHH hi Bestie!!!!

Lol yeah you know me, gotta work in SOME angst here and there. As a treat 🫠 Don’t worry too much, the mystery won’t be drawn out very long! I will say this, the next chapter will probably be entirely from Joel’s perspective (maybe a smidge from reader’s but probably all Joel.) New in Town is also halfway done! It’s not going to be a terribly long fic and will be wrapped by Halloween. I’ll also say that Sarah is going to find out in an… interesting way. It’ll be fun, promise.

I’m so glad you liked Loathe/Lust! I may do another chapter or at least some drabbles with that couple. I think they’re fun and I gave them a TON of backstory because I felt like they needed some to make the set up work lol the request was for enemies to lovers but there needs to be a reason for an enemy of Joel’s to live (because he will just kill people) and I think I made it work?

Bestie, darling, dear. You are so far from annoying lol I LOVE this stuff!! I wanna talk about these fics all the time and you’re giving me a great outlet so thank you!!

And thank you for reading and for being here and for reaching out, it means so much. Love you!!

[kim-seung-mo]

OK but can we request #33 because I feel like every girl has asked this question to their partner at least once lmaaao

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝔻𝕠 𝕚𝕗 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖 𝕌𝕡

♩ gn!reader, fluff?? slight angst if you squint?? you don't actually break up but they think about it?? idk, i guess it's just soft

♩♩ word count: 1.7k

♩♩♩ A/N: wrote this because the minho fic was getting too long...even though that makes zero sense...enjoy!!

wip list here

Chan

"Why would you think about that? Please don't think about that kind of stuff..."

He would start to worry if there were some secrets you weren't telling him, if it was that he wasn't giving you enough security.

Why would you think about something like that? Do you think you guys will break up?

Rather than answering your question, He was more interested in knowing why you were asking the question in the first place.

Of course, he would still have an answer in mind.

If you two broke up, it must be his fault, he must not have done well enough.

So what would he do? If it had come to the point where a breakup was necessary, he might not even attempt getting you back.

No, he definitely still wants to. But he would force himself not to do so.

He knows you love him very much, if you ever were to be disappointed in him, then he must have done something really unforgivable.

At that point, he wouldn't be able to do anything but wish you well.

"I'd...I'd want you to be happy, I suppose...whether if that person is me or not."

Minho

"Then I'll just find another one, what else is there to do?"

Of course, he's just saying this to piss you off.

He knows you're not asking this question with any clear purpose, you probably just saw this someone on the internet.

Seeing your angry look on hearing his answer, he chuckled.

But after a while, he couldn't help but think about it seriously.

Although you don't know this, but the person who can' t survive without the other might be him. He's the one that can't survive without you.

If you broke up, it must have been you who brought it up. He would never want to break up with you.

He couldn't even think of a more intelligent answer than the "I love you too much" one.

He may seem arrogant and cold to others, but he has a very soft heart and is actually very affectionate.

But then, he also doesn't want you to know that.

You will never know how important you really are in his heart.

If you really broke up, he might not ever actually be able to handle it.

Of course he will pretend that everything is fine, as if he has long forgotten about you.

But anyone who knows him can see how fake his smiles were.

Changbin

"It depends on the reason I guess."

On the subject of your relationship, he was surprisingly, and yet not at all surprisingly serious.

"If it was you who hurt me... Although I can't even think of how you would ever hurt me, but if, and I mean if you somehow did...... I would probably be devastated. If I had been the one to hurt you, I would definitely hate myself for the rest of my life. If it was a peaceful breakup ......"

He thought about it for some time, but couldn't think of anything.

Finally he shakes his head while hugging his chest, giving you a faint smile.

"I don't know Y/N, I just can't imagine the two of us breaking up."

It takes a long time to get Changbin to really fall in love.

He may easily have a crush on someone, or appreciate them.

But to convert this feeling into love took a long long time. At least until he really got to know the person.

After falling in love with a person he'd love them wholeheartedly and will make sure to never do anything to hurt them. Even if he did, he definitely didn't mean to.

If even then he still wasn't doing good enough, then he probably fell in love with the wrong person.

But with you, he didn't have to worry about any of that.

Hyunjin

"Did something happen??"

After hearing this question, Hyunjin would drop everything he was doing, take you in his arms, kiss you on the forehead, and ask you if something happened today or if someone said something to you.

After getting the answer, "Nothing happened, I just saw this question on the internet and was curious," he felt a little more at ease and sat down in front of you to give it some thought.

"I guess the first thing I would do is try to get you back...or just cry at home. I don't know, I haven't thought about it."

That was true, he never even thought about breaking up with you, so naturally he didn't think about what to do afterwards.

I don't know, I haven't thought about it."

That was true, he had never even thought about breaking up with you, let alone what to do afterwards.

You loved him so much and he loved you the same, how could you ever break up?

After reaching this conclusion, he smiled and looked back in your direction.

"What about you? What would you do? If we had broken up..."

He will ask you in turn, taking your hand and listening carefully to your answer.

Depending on your answer he'd react differently.

But what remains the same is that he knows that will never happen.

Jisung

"I'd probably die."

He said this in a joking tone, and you just took it as a joke.

But secretly, he was worried about this question for a long time.

The answer "I will die" wasn't exactly a joke.

Although he knew the chances of it happening were slim, the hypothesis had been replayed in his mind countless times.

Of course, he wouldn't actually die. But for at least a week, maybe a month, he would definitely look like a dead man.

Asking him to accept the fact that you don't love him anymore is more difficult than accepting anything else.

Just the thought of it already brings tears to his eyes.

He would sneak glanges at you, trying to guess what you meant by asking this question.

You're not really thinking of breaking up with him, are you?

Luckily, you knew him well and noticed his abnormal behavior.

You held him in your arms and comforted him, telling him that you shouldn't have asked this unlikely question, and that he should just forget about it.

But even with that, he would still occasionally think about it, pondering it for hours alone.

Felix

"I would get back with my ex."

He's definitely seen that video compilation on Ticktok. ("What would you do if we broke up? I'd get back with my ex." "Who's your ex?" "My ex is you, silly.")

"What, Y/N, you think I'd fall for it?"

If you did just want to prank him, then you'll just have to admit defeat and give him kisses to make up for him.

But if you are serious about wanting to know the answer to this question, then he will realize that right away.

He will sit you down, kneel in front of you and hold your hand tightly, looking at you with his loving eyes.

He will tell you that if that day comes, he will be devastated and feel like the world is falling on him.

From his eyes, you could tell that he wasn't joking.

Of course he doesn't want that kind of thing to actually happen, but if it did, he would slowly accept it, because if it had come to the point of you two breaking up, then it must be for the good of both of you.

He desperately wants you to know that the last thing he wants to do is hurt you in any way, whether or not he meant to.

He'd try to convince himself, even if the process is difficult, even if he doesn't want to just admit defeat.

Seungmin

"Is this some kind of test?"

Would ask you, tilting his head, with suspicion in his eyes.

"Hahahaha......Minnie you're just too smart to fool."

Although your trick didn't work, the question kept echoing in his mind when he was going to sleep again that night.

What would he do if you broke up?

He was never very good at expressing his feelings, if you did break up, it must've be his problem.

Although onlookers may not think so, but he is actually a very emotional person.

If you break up with him, the first thing he will definitely do is cry all day, maybe more than just a day.

He isn't very sure if he has the courage to go and get you back, after all, you are breaking up with him, you certainly don't want him anymore.

Thinking about this, he curled up on your bed like an abandoned puppy.

He was going to fall asleep when he suddenly felt the warmth of your hug from behind.

What was he thinking about? Why was he even thinking about something that could never even happen?

Holding your hand on his waist, Seungmin fell asleep peacefully.

Jeongin

"Wh-what do you mean? Does Noona/Hyung want to break up with me?"

He was terrified and looked like he was about to cry from the second you ask the question.

Seeing him like this, all your bad thoughts were thrown out the window, you pulled him into a hug and started apologizing, telling him not to worry, that you were just saying "what if".

While being held in your arms, he began to think about this.

"I would cry, cry for a long time, and beg you not to leave me..."

You couldn't bear hearing these words, immediately frowned and cursed yourself a thousand times in your head.

"Why would you think that I would ever leave you? You know full well that could never happen......"

He raised his head slightly to look at you, saw your slightly offended expression and took your hand as if to coax.

"But there's no way I'd ever break up with Noona/Hyung either, that kind of thing is absolutely impossible!"

You interlocked your fingers with him and rested your foreheads against each other.

"If you broke up with me, I would probably cry for a long time too... But that's better than seeing you cry. I can't bear to see you cry."

Jeongin smiled, his eyes narrowing.

"Then, for the sake of us both not crying, let's never break up."

[angelamajiki]

PARINGS: Shouta Aizawa x Reader

CW: yandere, stalking, rape/noncon, pain kink, pain play, mild scent kink, home invasion, gags, restraints, virginity kink, scumbag aizawa, pet play, humiliation, cum stuffing, fingerings, snowballing, voice kink

SYNOPSIS: You have been calling the same phone sex operator for months, creating stalker and CNC fantasies. What happens when he rings true to his words?

AN: this is very dark, be warned! just had to make a fic out of the little idea I had <3

It’s always you who requests him. He can tell you're a virgin, the way your voice wavers when you feel like responding to him. Sometimes you don’t, letting your breathy moans do the talking for you.

“Good little girl.”

“Getting off to a phone call from your stalker? What a whore.”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

”Do you like that, pretty little kitty?”

He never had a knack for giving nicknames, but he had to make it known that he remembers you. Remembers that voice. Hopefully, he’ll be able to remember your body one day.

Tracking you down was easy enough; you didn't bother to block your number and public records was just calling his name. God did he love untouched girls like yourself. So wet and pliant, so easily manipulated, so naive to believe everyone had good intentions.

Cameras were placed around your house so he could watch you when he couldn't hear you. If it was a stalker you wanted, he was going to give it to you.

You called often and asked for him always—such an obedient girl. The live feed from your bedroom streamed in front of him whenever you rang, but he was tired of playing games this week.

“Just look at the way you’re kneading yourself; you like to tease yourself. Don't you, kitty?”

Your breath hitched, but he knew it wasn't from pleasure. Looking around, he chuckled at your confused expression.

“You got a real cute face, you know that kitty? I can't wait to fuck it one day.”

Be rational, you told yourself. Its all part of the fantasy, right? He can’t actually see you.

“That’s a cute bed spread you got there, I didn’t take you for the type who liked lilies. You always keep roses in your kitchen vase.”

Okay, he was definitely listening to you now.

“Say, you live on 14th Street, don't you? Why don't I come down and give you an in person session?”

“What do you say, kitty? Or should I just break in like I always tell you I would?”

The phone hung up after that comment. Sure, you were up to the fantasy of being stalked and raped; that’s why you called him. It was too embarrassing to tell a partner your fantasies, not like you had one. Or roommates for that matter.

His voice is what soothed you after a hard day, but now it kept ringing in your ears. Listening to his breathy chuckles sent shivers down your spine, but you never expected to feel them there.

Three raps came from your bedroom door before it opened. You were buried in your sheets, hopelessly, desperately attempting to be asleep. Like that would stop him.

“I know you're awake.”

An “ah” of realization came from him.

“Unless you sleeping peacefully is part of the fantasy. This is new, but I can indulge you in that kitty.”

The bed dipped and creaked with his weight, fear sinking into your heart further as a hand smoothed itself over your shoulders.

“So tense.” He tutted. “I’ve got something that can help you relax.”

His tongue lapped at the outer shell of your ear; arm slung over your blanketed body.

“Such a naughty girl. Tell me, how many times did you get off to the sound of my voice telling you I was going to take your virginity by force.”

A hand snaked its way up to your throat, squeezing gently enough not to cause pain but enough to cut off part of your air.

“Tell me you want me to rape you, here and now. Or I’ll take you out to the alley and make a display of it.”

His voice barely reached above of a whisper the entire time, the same soft sound he used over the phone. Hot breaths tickled your ear and neck as you squirmed, gasping at straws for air.

“I promise to be gentle; I know you like a tender man who takes what he wants.”

Your throat restricted even more under the hand to the point where you felt light-headed.

“Please!” You gasped, using your nails to scratch at his wrapped fingers. The pressure withdrew.

“Please what, kitty? C’mon, you can do it.”

“P-Please rape me.”

A sharp laugh came from behind you.

“Is that any way to address me? I thought we were using special nicknames here.”

He let you have your moment, apparently amused to see you choke for air as he stroked your back.

“Please rape me...sir.”

“Atta girl.”

The hand made its way back to your throat, only resting there as the thumb stroked over your tender flesh. The other one snuck under the blanket and groped at your chest.

“You're a virgin, aren't you, kitty? Don't worry; your owner is going to talk you through it. Nice and slow so you feel everything I'm giving you.”

Fingers wiggled their way under your bra and began pinching at your nipples, tugging and pulling at the hardening nubs.

“Stop squirming, or I’ll have to tie you up. You'll get your treat soon enough, kitty.”

You yelped after a particularly rough tug, tears springing in your eyes. His one hand managed to rip your bra apart, giving better access to his perverted fingers.

“I know you like it, the way I knead your pretty little breasts. Come, take your clothes off. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Everything came off before he instructed you to stand at the edge of the bed for him. He circled you like a predator, making inspections.

“I have to make sure my kitty is well-groomed and taking care of herself.”

The weight of his hot breath on your skin weighed down on you, pulling you further under his spell. He lifted your arms and smelled your scent.

“Lavender deodorant? What a shame; I wished I could have smelled your natural musk.”

Humiliation flushed your face hot. Disgusting pervert, it seemed he was into everything as long as it wasn't consensual.

“Sit down on the bed, legs spread.”

The baritone of his voice shook you to your core, but not in the pleasurable way you're used to.

“Don't make me ask twice, pet.”

His command was hard to ignore after following them for such a long time; it was practically instinctual to do as you were told. Shaking legs spread as you turned your head to the side. Another tut rolled off his tongue as he gripped your cheeks with one hand.

“Don't turn away from me. I want to see the look in yours when I take you and make you mine.”

You hadn't even realized before that he had brought a bag with him. From it, he took a bar spreader, rope, and a spider gag, all of which he put on you. The gag made your mouth uncomfortably wide, leaving nothing to his imagination.

Rough fingers pull you tongue from your mouth, his own coming down to lick at before spitting down the back of your throat.

“Swallow.”

You did.

“Good kitty.”

The name didn't comfort you anymore. Nothing about him comforted you anymore. Not his voice, not his nickname, and certainly not his breath, which you felt like was burning all over your body.

“I’m going to be nice and leave your throat alone today. However, if I give you a treat, you will swallow it. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded, terrified at the notion that he intended to come back after tonight. Crouching down in front of you, he inspected your wet pussy before spitting on it as well. Gingerly moving your lips, he circled your tight hole and stood up.

“That should do.”

Watching him undress himself seemed to make time move slower, knowing that he was about to take your virginity within minutes. His hard cock sprung out from his boxers and hit his happy trail, bobbing slightly against his abs. Not only was this man toned, but he was also huge.

“In we go, kitty.”

Not even taking the courtesy to gather some slick from you, he pushed in, taking his sweet time as he locked eyes with you. He went agonizing slow, grinning as you wailed in pain.

“Hurts, doesn't it? Let's see how painful we can make this.”

You were hardly prepped, only having wetness left behind from your previous phone call. It stung, and it stung bad. Your eyes wept as you looked up at him with a pleading gaze, hoping he would take mercy on you. He did no such thing, pinching your clit between his fingers and rolling it with intense pressure. Moaning, he watched as you convulsed and twitched in pain beneath him.

“Being such a good girl for me, kitty.”

Another glob of spit landed in the back of your throat, making you gasp and choke on your sobs. He loved that you were an ugly, messy crier. It only served to make his dick harder.

Once he bottomed out, he stayed there for a while, letting you feel the fullness of his thick cock.

“The name’s Shouta, by the way. I'm sure you must have been curious.”

He spoke so casually, so calmly. It made you furious how collected he was while you were a whimpering, sniffling mess.

“Don't worry; we’ll have all the time in the world once we’re done to get to know me.”

Goddamn, that voice. That hypnotizing, nauseating voice. It's the reason you're stuck here underneath a fucking phone sex operator that turned out to be your stalker. What a mess.

A tap to the temple pulled you back to the present.

“Keep your focus here, kitty.”

Hips drew back and snapped into you, not letting you take a moment to adjust as he set a brutal speed.

Oh, how you wished you could leave your body, but if anything, your senses were all the more enhanced, taking in every last drop of your surroundings. The sounds of the bed creaking under his pounding, his grunts and breaths, the skin slapping against skin, your own cries of misery. The feeling of his breath, how your once silk sheets now felt like sandpaper across your skin, the metal of your binds, and the burn of your rope. Everything and nothing all at once.

The minutes seemed to draw themselves out into hours as he continued his assault. He, or Shouta, you supposed, wasn't lasting very long. It didn't suit him; he seemed like a man of stamina. Maybe it was because he played out a sick fantasy of his that made him cum in minutes.

Unprotected, he came deep inside you before sliding out, giving your pussy a slap as he made his exit.

“Such a tight little kitty you've got there.”

Fingers at the ready, he stuffed his cum back inside you, toying with your clit all the while. He was quick to make you cum, making you see stars at the intensity of your orgasm.

“Don’t worry; I'll make you cum on my cock next time. I have plenty of games planned for us when I take you home.”

Pulling his fingers out, he pushed them down your throat to clean them before getting up and dressed again. He left you there, tied up and gone without a word.

In reality, he was just getting his car ready for you, but who was he to deny himself the pleasure of seeing your panicked face when he came back?

You were going to make a fine pet for him.

[obey-me-headquarters]

Ok so this is a lot. I know. I got inspired by @endlessmyth 's latest reblog my post, here is it. I was literally ready to reblog it saying that I sound create a fic off of that idea before going to be my notes, opening it up, and the writing for around 10 hours. So ah. Yeah. I'm on a bit of a bit au kick I guess lol.

Mammon X gender neutral reader.

Warnings: pet au so general abuse to Mammon. Burns, infection, and Mammon getting beat up. Also technical a sick fic I guess? Also Mammon steals from the rich lol. No smut.

Words: 6,800 (yeah I know. Longest thing I ever written lol)

Mammon is amazing.

He gots tiger stripes painted on his body, as he was the king of the jungle. Children would scream his name when he stepped on stage, and they would crowd him for his autograph after shows.

Some of the other performers were jealous of him, sending glares his way after a show. But that's how he knew he was a big shot, that everyone looked up to him.

And he got treated like a big shot too! Every night, he would retreat back to his royal palace. A room covered in posters with his face on them, bragging about his greatest. How he was king of the forest, able to jump through 50 hoops of fire. With a royal bed sitting in the center of the room! A golden cushion, with golden trim around the edges.

Sure, it was a little small, and Mammon had to curl up to sleep on it. But that's only because he was such a big strong demon that no one could ever fit him!

Since he was such a big shot, it made sense why people were always throwing green paper at him. The green paper was very important, and so only really, really important people got it. It made his boss happy whenever Mammon brought in a lot of paper.

He would always pat his back and tell him that was his "ferocious little tiger". And sometimes, when he did really well he would get extra food at meal times.

Which was all the time! Since Mammon was always the best, and always bringing in lots and lots of green paper. He was the circus's main star!

So why wasn't he allowed to be on stage anymore?

---

After the circus was done performing in a town, they would pack up and move onto the next. Mammon was used to the long waits in-between shows. His boss never liked for there to be too much of a break, so after the last show it didn't take a lot of time until Mammon was back on stage again.

Which was why it was weird when two full weeks passed without so much a mention of another show. Mammon tried to poke around, but everyone was being so secretive, apparently someone "caught on" and told some other people about the boss? Mammon didn't understand, did someone realize how awesome he was and told the boss? But that wasn't a secret!

Mammon tried to not pay it much attention, his boss was the greatest, next only to him, after all he had Mammon on his side!

---

Mammon turned out to be correct when after a week after that news spread about getting ready for a new show. Mammon was ecstatic about the notion on being on stage again, he could already hear the cheering buzz of his fans.

But after they sent up the tent and began letting people a performer told Mammon that he was supposed to stay in his room. But how could everyone see him jumping through hoops if he was stuck in his room?

Maybe the performer was trying to trick him, not wanting to share the spotlight. Grinning at his master level deduction Mammon began painting his tiger stripes on, hardly being able to wait to finally get back on stage.

He skipped out of his room, the cunning performer didn't even think to lock it! Maybe they knew that one lock could ever contain the great Mammon!

Backstage, like always, was a buzz of activity. Spotting the ringleader, Mammon strolled up to them, ready to hear his instructions.

"Hey boss, how many rings am I jumping through today? 20? 50?"

The ringleader looked taken aback at his question. Looking him up and down he asked, "Mammon aren't you supposed to be in your room? You don't have a show booked today."

Mammon felt his stomach drop, what did he mean he didn't have a show booked.

"Oh, I get it. We're doing my show tomorrow then, right? Before we leave? Gotta save the best for last after all."

"No Mammon, we're getting ready to pack up after this performance. You don't have anything booked for this performance or the next."

Mammon could hardly believe it. But before he had a chance to ask why the ringleader was called onto the stage. Leaving Mammon to swim in his doubts.

For the rest of the show Mammon sat on an old crate and waited. Maybe the ringleader was wrong, maybe Mammon would be a surprise performance. And it had to be so surprising and great that not even himself could know about it.

So Mammon waited, and waited, and waited. Until the last performers bowed their heads and people started leaving. He just about to stand up and shout that their has been a mistake before a voice calls out to him.

"Mammon, stop sitting there being useless and help pack up!"

His boss spat at him. Mammon flinched back, he desperately wanted to ask why he wasn't allowed on stage but his fear stopped him. Scampering off Mammon did what was told, maybe if he did an amazing job clearing he would get to perform at the next town.

There have been a lot of maybes in Mammon's life recently.

---

Unfortunately, Mammon wasn't allowed to perform at the next town, or the town after that, or that town after that.

Nearly two months has passed since Mammon was allowed on stage. With every performance taking place longer and longer after the last one.

No matter how much Mammon begged, pleaded, or demanded he was not allowed back on stage. He wasn't even told a reason why either. Either he was blown off when he asked, told they didn't know when he asked other performers, or told that they "weren't ready" for his performance.

His boss turned meaner and meaner every time Mammon saw him. Screaming at him for the slightest of mistakes. Slapping his plate to the ground at meal times and told to "lap it up like the bitch he is."

Mammon understood why he was being so mean: Mammon hasn't brought in any green paper in ages! If they just let him preform then he could show everyone how amazing he is and get tons and tons of green paper!

But he was still not allowed on stage.

Brainstorming on ways to convince the ringmaster Mammon overhears a fee of his fellow performers.

"Yeah, it's difficult to make ends meet when barely anyone is allowed on stage."

"I know right? The boss really just needs to shake off his tail and stop doing these ghost performances. It's hurting our livelihoods!"

"Some of the other performers are sneaking off to go perform in the town square for extra cash. Wanna join?"

Mammon tunes out the rest of the conversation as he bolts up. This is it! If he could get green paper in the square and bring it back then his boss would be reminded of how great he is and let him back onstage!

Quiet as a mouse, Mammon sneaks into the storage room and takes out his hoops and the lighter. It wasn't that hard to sneak out, all he had to do was wait until nightfall when everyone was asleep.

It took awhile to find out where the square was but eventually he found a big empty space like a stage. There were no people around, so Mammon hid until morning.

Unlike the circus, mornings in the square were very busy! It seemed like everyone had some place to go! The square was packed with people walking, some of them holding up the square disks humans liked so much.

Grinning, Mammon bounced towards the center of the square and began setting up his rings. He decided to do three to start, a good opening for any show. People didn't pay him much mind until he lit the hoops on fire. A few of them stopping to stare.

"Hello boys and girls!" Mammon yelled, Doug his beat to copy the ringleader's voice as he spoke to the crowd.

"Ya in for a very special night, because the Great Mammon is here to knock ya socks off!"

His yelling got a bit more attention, as some humans stopped and pointed their black squares towards him. Smiling, Mammon dashed to the front of the hoops.

"Watch him overcome the Trials of Fire and jump through not one, not two, but three hoops of fire!"

Gasps spread throughout the crowd as Mammon expertly hoped through the hoops. Beaming from ear to ear, Mammon quickly set up more hoops, gathering more and more people to stop and stare at him.

Time to ramp it up, Mammon thinks. Getting out more hoops he nearly fills the square. Normally the hoops would be more spread out on stage, but Mammon gots this!

Running through the circle of hoops Mammon leaps perfectly through every one of them. It isn't until he hits a sharp turn does he tumble. Not quite making the leading Mammon's hands meet rough concrete as he stumbles through the hoop. A weird sensation spreads through his sides, but he pays it no mind.

He's so close! He just needs to get through a couple more hoops and everyone will cheer and throw the green paper and his boss will care about him again!

Leaping forward Mammon charges through the hoop, but his weird leading changes the angle he normally strives for. Instead of gracefully dodging the flames, Mammon knocks into the ring, taking it down with him as he crashes into the ground.

Scorching hot flames lick against Mammon's body as he withers around in pain on the ground. The hoop is stuck around his torso, burning his sides as he desperately tries to get it off of him. Distantly he hears yelling, and he remembers the crowd! He can't let the crowd see him like this!

Grabbing the edge of the flaming hoop with his bare hand he pushes the ring off on him. Stumbling to his feet he stretches his arms in a "ta da" fashion. But no one is showering him in green paper like they usually do. Instead people are yelling, turning away from him in disgust, as parents hide their children's faces.

Looking down at himself Mammon notices that the hoop has left rings on his body. Honestly they don't look that bad in Mammon's opinion, they kinda look like tiger stripes! Now he doesn't have to bother painting them on before shows!

The crowd quickly disperses after that, and Mammon is left with not a single green paper. No matter how long he spends looking for one, believing that somebody might have left one behind.

It was nearing nightfall that Mammon started his treck back to the circus. The burns on his chest and stomach are getting worse. Mammon felt light headed and dizzy, swaying side to side as he packed up the hoops.

Looking towards the giant circus tent, Mammon swallowed his nerves. Everything would be fine, right? He's injured, the boss never allowed him to get injured before, saying that he was "too valuable" to get damaged.

Mammon honestly wouldn't mind a break from performing, so everything would be fine. Right?

---

"Useless piece of shit!" The boss shouted, giving another hard kick to Mammon's backside. The demon was on the floor, curled up in a ball, trying to protect his most sensitive areas.

"I'm already dealing with police shit, and you go and cause a scene in the town's square?! How stupid do you have ta be!?"

Another powerful kick, this one to the stomach. His boot barely grazes one of the burns and Mammon feels a searing hot pain shot through him. Knocking the wind out of his chest, Mammon gasps into the floor.

The human shows no mercy, bringing his foot up and strikes Mammon in the side of his face. Mammon hears a distant crack as wetness drips across his face. He can barely breathe as he shivers and shakes against the onslaught of pain.

---

Mammon opens his eyes to darkness. He tries to stand but he's barely able to make it to his knees before vegito hits him. Falling to his hands and knees Mammon breathes breathes deeply through his mouth, as his nose feels weirdly clogged. Reaching up he confirms that it's broken.

For one blissful moment Mammon thinks that he's back in his room. Feeling around he tries to find his pillow, but as he trips and lands on his back, he looks up to see stars.

Kicked out. I got kicked out. I wasn't good enough so I got abandoned.

Silently, Mammon's eyes filled with tears. Dripping down his face he sobs quietly in the alleyway.

Mammon could live with getting beat an inch within his life. He could handle not performing. Could deal with permanent scars on his body.

He has no idea what he's going to do when he's not good enough.

---

Living on the streets is hard for a demon. It's basically a giant signal that he messed up. That he's trouble and shouldn't interact with.

Life has been hard for Mammon. He's a social demon that needs human interaction. He needs to talk to his fellow performers, or kids that want his autograph. No one wants to talk to the loud demon with tiger stripes scars.

He tries to do tricks in the square again, and some times people do throw green at him, and for one single moment it's like he's back in the circus. But that moment gets quickly shattered when humans start chasing him. Apparently some humans in blue clothing don't like it when demons are "disturbing the peace" or something like that.

It's a great thing that Mammon is so fast, and powerful, and great and that no human or demon could ever catch up to him.

Mammon quickly learns how great the green papers are. They’re easy to trade for food and water. Mammon is still getting the basics down, but when you go into certain buildings you can pick up food and trade the green papers with humans. Maybe that's why the boss liked the green paper so much.

It's been harder and harder to get it though. The burns on Mammon's sides have been feeling funny lately. At night they burn, an intense pain ripples off of them and strikes through the rest of his body. It makes his head feel funny, and his stomach feels like they're in knots.

Most frightening of all though, is that they're changing color. First they were a deep red, but they turned white, like his tiger stripes, but now they're a sickly yellow with black spots.

It was getting harder to move to get to the town square, and even harder to run away from the humans. He's been getting less and less green papers too, so he's been forced to eat food humans leave out in big metal boxes.

One day Mammon wakes up, and he can barely move with how much the world is spinning around him. Laying back down in his messes of ratty blankets and newspaper, he decides to take a day off. He works so hard usually, what's the harm in taking some time to himself?

---

You're walking back to your apartment when you hear a... gurgling? Moaning? Sound from an alleyway. A part of you tells you this is how every horror movie starts, but another part of you is intrigued. There's been alley cats that are known to hang around here, what if one of them is in trouble?

Taking out your phone you shine your flashlight down the alleyway from the safety of the streets. It takes you a moment to pinpoint what's making the sound, but when your light lands on a curled up demon sitting by a dumpster, your heart stops.

Rushing forwards, you drop to your knees in front of them. They look terrible, they're covered in grime from laying in the street. Their face is slightly bloody, from what looks like a broken nose that's half healed. When you press the back of your hand to their forehead it burns and you notice that they're sweating profusely.

"Hey, hey sweetheart? Are you ok? Are your owners nearby?"

A small part of you is glad when they mumble incomprehensibly, as the answers to both of those questions is an obvious no.

Looking around the barren alleyway you desperately figure out what to do. The demon is obviously unwell, and homeless. But you're unsure if taking them to a pound or shelter would be a good idea. You know they only have room for healthy demons, and worry that bringing them to one will only result in them getting thrown out again.

Breathing deeply, you ready yourself for what you have to do.

"Hey honey? I'm going to try and pick you up, ok? Please don't fight me, I'm not going to hurt you, I only want to help."

You get another mumble for an answer, as you shift to wrap your arms around the demon. You're surprised at how light the demon is, for their size they should weigh way more than they do. You use that as a convincing argument that you're doing what you must.

You're glad that your apartment is only a few more blocks away from here, as you're not sure how much longer you're able to carry a passed out demon.

---

Mammon awakes to a splitting headache. Groaning he turns over, expecting to lean against the cool metal of the big food box. Instead he has something soft around him. Shooting up he's hit with a sense of vertigo that's getting more and more common these days.

Around him are fluffy, soft blankets and he's instantly confused. Where is he? Looking around he seems to be inside, with four walls around him. The room he's in looks like one of the performers rooms he snuck glances at sometimes. There's furniture and pictures on the wall that isn't him, a real downgrade in his opinion.

For one moment he thinks he's back at the circus, and that the boss put him in somebody's room. Maybe he's in the boss's room? Maybe the boss felt so bad about abandoning- no, losing him that he spent all of his time looking for him! And he was so overjoyed that when he found him he placed him in his own bed!

That reality is quickly shattered when a human that doesn't look like one of his fellow performers or his boss quietly opens the door. Spotting him, they gasp in shock and Mammon thinks he did something wrong before a smile spreads onto your lips.

"Oh, hi sweetie! How did you sleep? I know you're not feeling that well, are you hungry?"

The bombard of questions through Mammon for a loop, and he stays silent. Not letting that deter you, you continue on.

"I got some medicine from the vet when you were asleep. They said it's not good to take on an empty stomach. Are you hungry? What do you want me to make you?"

Still overwhelmed, Mammon stays silent. Frowning you step closer to his bed. Kneeling at the edge, a foot away from him, you gently reach out your hand and cup his cheek.

"Are you able to talk? It's fine if you aren't."

"Why am I here?" Mammon suddenly snaps, sounding way harsher than he intended. Panicking, he goes to apologize, but you already flinched back.

"Oh! I'm sorry, this must all be very confusing for you. I found you sick in an alleyway and brought you back home. You're currently in my bed."

Even though Mammon got an answer, none of your words make any sense to him. Why did you bring him home? So what if he were sick, none of the other humans cared that he was sick. It only caused them to turn away from him in stores.

Still, he found it best to not mention his confusion. Humans never liked it when their actions were questioned. As he learnt when he asked the ringleader at the circus why his hoops had gotten smaller and they shouted at him for a solid 30 minutes.

Sensing the nervous energy coming off on the demon. You smile reassuringly, and hold out your hand to introduce yourself.

"That's my name! What's yours?"

Mammon gives you a confused look, like the answer isn't the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm the Great Mammon! Don't you know of me? Everyone knows about me! They put up posters and billboards with my face on them!"

"Ohhhh, the Great Mammon!" You fake, raising your voice in pretend surprise. "I just didn't think that I would every get to meet the Great Mammon, nevermind have him in my own bed!"

Mammon preens, finally! The recognition he deserves!

"I know, I know. It's a pretty big day for ya!" Mammon sits up to pose dramatically, but a sudden sharp pain sends him falling back onto the bed. Alarmed, you rush towards him, checking him over to make sure he's ok.

"Careful! Careful! Save your posing for when you're better. Now you should rest and take some medicine."

Picking up a plastic bag, you take out the bottle of antibiotics and open them. Taking out two pills, you place them ontop of the cap before hurrying off to grab some water.

"Here you go." You say, passing Mammon the glass and the pills. He eyes him suspiciously.

"Are these.... are these going to get rid of my tiger stripes?" He asks, in the smallest voice you've ever heard.

It takes you a moment to figure out that he means his burn marks, and you try to answer carefully. Not sure if he wants to keep them.

"Well, the marks will probably never go fully away. The pills are just there to make you feel better. You know how you feel sick and hot a lot? The pills are supposed to help with that."

Nodding, Mammon looks back at the medicine. He finds you have no reason to lie, after all you brought him back to your house when you could have left him. He trusts that you wouldn't get rid of his stripes.

Swallowing down the pills with the water, he hands the glass back to you. Smiling when you get up.

"Are you hungry? You should probably eat something since you took some medicine."

Mammon nods his head at the question, his stomach chiming in with a rumble. He's not sure what to answer you with when you ask what he wants to eat. At the circus he was given food when it was meal time, and chased out of the kitchen when he tried to steal food. But he remembers eating a lot of what the other humans called "stew" so he answers with that.

When you leave Mammon settles into the blankets, barely believing how soft they are. Are you royalty too? Your bed doesn't look like the bed he had back in the circus, and it's also huge! He's able to stretch out fully without hanging off the bed. Do all humans have beds this fancy?

Then why wasn't I given a bigger bed? Wasn't I Great?

---

When you first brought Mammon back home you expected him to be soft and quiet. Obviously he wasn't used to living indoors, from the way he looked confusingly at the fridge, or certain household items.

Your best guess was that he belonged to some kind of carnival, and is proven right when you decide to look up The Great Mammon online and find videos of the demon jumping through hoops. Well, that explained the burn marks at least.

But it didn't take much time for him to come out of his shell. After the medicine started working you called the vet asking if you could give Mammon a bath, when you first brought him home you were worried that a bath would press on his burn and hurt him. But everyday the infection was getting smaller and smaller, and after the a-okay from the vet, you lead Mammon to your bathroom.

Expectantly Mammon looks at the filled up with curious eyes. To him getting clean means standing outside while a human sprays him with a hose.

"Have you ever seen a bathtub, Mammon?"

Mammon finches at your question, and you know he's going to lie to you. One of the first things you learnt about him was that he doesn't like to look foolish by not knowing something.

"O-of course I have! I just, I never seen one so small before! The ones I used were huge! Bigger than an entire room ya know!"

Humming you nod along, before gesturing to the tub. "Well, if you used one before that I'm sure you know what to do. Can you please take off your clothes and sit it in, I'll start to wash you?"

Mammon scrambles to obey, for all his talk and showboating, he really couldn't be a more obedient demon.

Mammon was expecting the water to be lukewarm, or maybe freezing like the hose water. So he's pleasantly surprised when he dips into the water and it's nice and warm. Sighing he immediately melts into the tub. His eyes flutter close as the warm water seeps into his bones, relaxing him to his core.

Every nice thing you did surprises him, like he doesn't realize that nice things existed in this world, or that they could be for him.

Smiling, you gather some water in a plastic cup you brought for this very purpose. "I'm going to dumb some water over your head, ok sweetheart? I'm just doing this so your hair is nice and wet so I can wash it."

Mammon numbly nods along, not really playing attention to the world around him. The warm water dripping down his face feels nice though.

After a few dunks of you determine that it's wet enough. Placing the cup aside you pick up the baby shampoo. Mammon may be obedient, but he's also curious, you don't want him to open his eyes as you're washing his hair and get blinded.

Working up a good lather, a calming lavender scent fills the bathroom. Mammon leans against you, practically trying to climb in your lap as he clings. Giggling, you lean down to give him a gentle kiss to the forehead.

"You feeling alright there, oh great Mammon?"

Nodding along, Mammon absentmindedly wraps his arms around you. You're not used to the affection, while the demon obviously adored any affection you gave him, he never reached out on his own accord to you. Happy for this new development, you wrap your own arms around Mammon and kiss him on the forehead. Ignoring that your clothes are currently being soaked.

---

It's crazy how fast a month could past, but with Mammon in your daily life every day just seemed to breeze by. After Mammon settled in and finished healing the two of you settled into something akin to a routine.

On weekdays you get up early and make breakfast for the two of you. You would gently prod Mammon awake and the two of you would eat breakfast in bed. After that you would kiss Mammon goodbye on the forehead before heading off to work.

You're not too sure what Mammon does when you're away. You taught him how to use the TV and internet, and sometimes when you get home he's still watching TV or is on the computer. But he also developed a strange love of birds, and would frequently feed them. He somehow built a relationship with a folk of crows you do not understand how he got. Other times you would come home to your house in a wreck, furniture set up as an obstacle course.

You would be more annoyed if Mammon didn't look so happy as he showed off. Flipping over the couch gracefully and somersaulting over a side table.

"Watch the Great Mammon perform feats of wonder with ya own eyes!" Mammon yells, doing his best parroting an announcer.

You cheer as you watch the performance, gasping and oooing when Mammon does a particularly cool trick. He finishes his routine with a bow, beaming up at you all the while.

"Ya know human, if we could go to a real circus I could ya some really cool moves."

Mammon says casually, but you can tell by the look in his eyes that he really wants to go. Yet this is the one request you find yourself never able to fulfill.

You're afraid. You're afraid that someone is going to take Mammon away from you if you step foot inside a circus. You're afraid that Mammon is going to leave you. But most of all, you're afraid that he's going to get hurt again.

"Nah, it's OK. You're already the Great Mammon! Plus, if I'm being honest, I'm not sure if I want others to see your greatness now that you perform in my own living room."

Mammon puffs out his chest at the praise, but both of you know that there are words going unsaid on both sides.

---

Mammon has night terrors, it was one of the first things you learnt about him during your first week together. Sometimes he would shoot up in the middle of the night screaming. Begging and pleading for someone to stop, to get the hoop off of him, that he's sorry.

You're always there to calm him down. To brush his hair and gently rock him back and forth. Tonight is one of those nights, and as you hold and reinsure him he mumbles out words in-between sobs.

"God, I-I'm so worthless. No, sniff, no wonder I was kicked out. I'm just, just an idiot! And now I'm ruined, scarred for life."

Gently shushing him, you shake your head. Wrapping your arms around him you do your best to ground him.

"No, sweetheart, that's not true at all. You're not worthless, or an idiot, or ruined, or even scarred. You're my pretty little kitty that I love so very much."

You whisper, hands gently rubbing against his burn marks.

"I love everything about you baby. I love your fluffy hair." You punctuate your statement by running a hand through his locks.

"I love your handsome face." Peppering kisses to his face, you kiss everywhere you can reach. His forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and even his ears.

"I love your chest, your stomach, and your tiger stripes." You lead a trail of kisses from his neck to his chest, to his stomach, to his burn marks. As you pepper kisses into sides, Mammon breaks. A giggle escapes from his lips, before he starts sobbing again.

"Oh, my sweet baby." You whisper as you lean up to hold Mammon against your chest.

"I, I love ya too. You're so, so nice to me all the time. You, sniff, never g-get mad at me, or hurt me. You're just. You're perfect."

Rubbing his back you continue to whisper praises into his ears until he falls asleep.

---

Mammon knows how prefect you are, how you're the most kind hearted human he ever meet. Which is why he wants to give you the world, you deserve it. Yet nothing he does seems to be good enough.

You laugh and cheer along with his performances, but your apartment is tiny and you don't own any hoops he can light on fire and jump through.

He tried to make your breakfast in bed like you do for him, but he's still getting used to the stove, and you don't even like him using it. The one time he trid to use the toaster he accidently left the toast in too long and caused the fire alarm to go off. You weren't at all mad at him for waking you up with a blaring alarm though, of course not, you're perfect.

And everything Mammon does just feels so subpar.

It isn't until he remembers the green papers does he figure out a way to make you happy. His old boss was so happy when Mammon got him a lot of green papers. If he got you a lot of green papers, then he could prove how great he is! He could make you as happy as you make him!

Delighted by his plan he skips out of the apartment. Forgetting to even leave a note.

---

When you arrive home, calling a "I'm home!" T your demon gets no response. Confused, you look around the apartment. He's not asleep, nor hiding. You try to bury your worry, telling yourself that he's just feeding his crows and that he'll be home soon.

As night begins to fall you grow more and more worried. Before deciding to go out and look for Mammon yourself. What if he went to feed his crows but got lost? Or hurt? What if a police officer saw him and brought him to the pound?

Desperately searching through every park and alleyway near your house you find nothing. Racing home you begin calling up pounds and shelters in your town. But none of the demons they have match your description. Whipping out your laptop you scroll through Facebook pet finding groups, but still end up empty handed.

For one solid moment you consider the possibility of Mammon leaving you. Your apartment was small, and couldn't contain someone as energetic as Mammon. He lived his life on a stage, it made sense he would want the company of more than just you.

---

Mammon is quickly finding out that getting green paper when you don't have any flaming hoops to jump through is harder than he thought. People barely give him a passing glance as he tries to get their attention in the square.

Defeated after a long day of getting nothing, he watches people in the hopes he'll find out what they want. It isn't until he spots a green paper spilling out of a business man's pocket does he realize. Humans carry around the green paper right? If Mammon can't earn, then he can take it right? It's not like the humans need the paper, if they were so willing to shower him with it before.

Luckily, he picked up a few slight of hand tricks from the circus. Performers were always ready to show off their skills, and if you hung around enough eventually they would get bored enough to teach you a few things.

Walking besides a human Mammon carefully reaches into their pocket and pulls out their wallet. He does check it until he ducks into an alleyway. Pulling it out he finds that this human was carrying a lot of green papers, and was also carrying around a lot of paper cards. Discarding the cards and wallet into the trash Mammon dips back into the crowd.

He quickly discovers that people wearing fancy black suits usually carried the most green papers with them, and were always busy talking on their phones. So it wasn't hard to bump into them and steal their wallets.

He targeted five people, acquiring a good collection before he hears a shout behind him. Whipping around he spots the human he just picked pocketed from yelling at him. Grinning, he quickly bolts away. Knowing that no one would be able to catch him.

As nightfall hits Mammon makes his way back to the apartment. A wad of cash bundled up in his pocket. It was way more than any of the shows he had gotten before, but he was still worried that you wouldn't think it was enough. But he knew he couldn't stay out all night, you needed your sleeping buddy after all!

Quietly opening the door Mammon sees you sitting on the couch, head in hands. A flash of worry spikes through him as he rushes to your side.

Hearing footsteps, your head snaps up to see Mammon. Jumping up you tackle him in a hug, pulling him close.

"Mammon?! Where, where were you? What happened? Are you ok?" You can't stop the tears from falling as you hug your demon, relief washing over you.

Doubt creeps into Mammon's mind as he holds you. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea of it worried you so much. Pulling back he begins pulling out the bills.

"Sorry about leaving ya, I was just out getting green paper."

Confused and cornered you watch as Mammon pulls bill after bill out of his pockets, creating a pile of money at your feet. Reaching out, you stop him with a touch of your hand.

"Mammon, where and how did you get all this money?" You ask, disturbed.

"Oh! I was just out and about at the square and realized that humans carry a lot of green paper with them, right? And it wasn't that hard to grab some off of em."

Blinking owlishly you stare at your demon.

"Mammon, did you steal this money from people?"

"Well, yeah. I mean it's not like they're using it."

Taking a deep breath in you fall back onto your couch. Mammon, worried, follows after you. Confused, you watch him pick up the bills and try to move them closer to you, like that would make that at all better.

"Mammon, again I ask, why???"

Taken aback at the question, Mammon fiddles with the bills in his hand.

"Well, humans like this right? I just thought, since you do so much for me, I should do something nice for you. And my old boss really liked this stuff and I wanted to make you happy so I just. Uh."

Mammon trails off, and slowly you put the pieces together. Mammon was in the circus, his role was to perform, after his shows he would get money and his old owner would be nice to him because of it. He linked someone being proud of him with money.

Sighing you turn to face Mammon, taking his hand in yours as you mentally prepare a speech.

"Mammon, while I thank you for doing this. I do think it's really sweet that you were willing to go to these lengths to do this for me. Stealing is wrong. You should never do it no matter the circumstances."

Mammon looks at you like you've grown a second head.

"But, they weren't using it! Or it's not like they need it, they gave it away so freely before."

"Yes, but that's because it was their choice to do so. Mammon some people don't have as much money as others, what if they needed that money to buy food for their families?"

Mammon pauses at your question. Remembering the time he had no paper to trade for food. Guilt starts creeping in his mind as he thinks about it.

"But the people I took from were really fancy! And had so much paper on them, surely they can get more if they need it right?"

You snort at the question, happy that Mammon stole from well off people instead of those who really needed it.

"Still Mammon you're never sure if the person really needs the money or not. You shouldn't do this again, no matter how fancy the other person looks."

Guilty Mammon nods, and you fluff up his hair. "Hey, it's ok. You didn't know, and like you said I don't think they needed the money."

Squirming in his seat Mammon looks away from you like he's ashamed before speaking.

"But. But how can I make you happy if I can't get green paper for you?"

Feeling your heart break you lunge forward, trapping Mammon in a hug. "Oh sweetheart. You already make me so, so happy. Just by being you."

Blushing, face on fire Mammon nods. But a strange emptiness still fills him. Noticing this as you pull away you gently cup his face into your hands.

"How about you learn how to help around the house? Like a companion? That would definitely help me out and make me happy."

Mammon's eyes light up at your suggestion, but apparently he already made his wholesome quota today as he puffs out his chest and nods.

"I guess The Great Mammon could help ya out, if ya really need it."

Grinning you lean over to give Mammon a kiss on the forehead, giggling when his face turns a cute red.

This isn't a permanent solution to Mammon's problem, but you think it's a good one for now as you try to convince him that he's your world.

[graceanne19822]

End of Beginning

Eddie fic based on "End of Beginning" by Djo!

Summary: Eddie finally talks about his childhood & the home he once had

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Homesickness, talk of Eddie's mom (death), mentions of pregnancy, and at the end it gets a little emotional.

A/N: I don't give permission for this to be posted anywhere else. Also I'm sorry this didn't get posted yesterday, work kicked my ass so I basically slept as soon as I got home😅 Honestly though, before this, Gloom was my favorite thing I had written but this is my new favorite. I love it so much. Also, as far as distance, I'm not entirely sure where Hawkins is supposed to be located, cuz it's not really a town. I live in southern Indiana (and have since 2004) so I just used the distance between my real town and Chicago.

You stirred in your sleep, feeling for the body that was normally next to you, confused by the emptiness on Eddie's side of the bed. Hesitantly, you peeked up at the alarm clock. Four AM? Wow. You rubbed your eyes before grabbing Eddie's your hoodie and shuffling into the living room. He was leaned against the wall, looking at the rain hitting the window. You walked up to him, gently wrapping your arms around his waist. He turned towards you, kissing the top of your head and wrapping his own arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"What are you doin' up?" his eyes going back to the window.

"Got cold, and then noticed you weren't next to me, came to find you," you kissed his chin and looked up at him. "What are you doing up?"

"Just got to thinking. My mom would have been 40 today...I know she wasn't the best but...I miss her," he sighs, blinking quickly to avoid tears.

"Baby," you held him tightly. "It's okay. You wanna talk about her?" you pulled him towards the couch, both sitting down, him leaning into you.

"Yeah," he nodded and let out a sniffle. "When I was little, we didn't live here. She got pregnant with me at nineteen, and they didn't want to raise me in Hawkins, so they took off to Chicago. That's where I was born, and we spent the first four years there, before my dad talked her into using. As you already know, she OD'd when I was four," he took a deep breath, "and then my dad started robbing stores to make ends meet. He couldn't hold down a job with his addictions. When he got arrested, I got sent to live with Wayne, and besides any summers that my dad was out of the slammer, I've been here since. I can't help but feel like everything would be...easier if she were still here. I would've helped her, I would've gotten a job earlier to help with bills, I would've done so much...I miss her," he finally broke down and buried his face in your neck, letting you hold him.

You stayed like that for a while, the rain ebbing and flowing with different rhythms hitting the roof and windows. After he calmed down a bit, he took a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his face on his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled one last time before holding both your hands in his. "I've always been emotional when it comes to her, but I never had anybody to really open up to about it. I'm so thankful for you."

"I'm thankful for you, my troubadour," you grinned up at him, kissing his fingers.

He laughs a little. "I wanna take you there someday. Chicago, I mean. When I'm back there I feel whole, I feel home. It's like when I left for the last time when I was twelve, I felt like I was saying goodbye to all the possibilities of what the city could bring. It was so up and coming in the late seventies," he sighed. "I could've had so many beginnings there. It was where I belonged. When I go back I feel like I could've been another person. Not the town freak. Not "that Munson boy". I would have been able to be something. Who knows?" your chest tightened at his words, the anxious thought of you being the reason he stayed in Hawkins instead of living his dream in Chicago crossing your mind.

Then he leaned forward and kissed your forehead. "Funny thing is though, all those thoughts of not belonging here went away the second I saw you walk into that school. I always said '86 was gonna be my year, and there you were, all I needed to graduate and start my life with you," he grinned as you blushed.

"What was her name?" you suddenly asked, immediately wanting to take it back the second you saw his eyes get glassy again, but instead he cleared his throat and blinked the tears away.

"Caroline," he sighed. "Caroline Emerald Munson, if you wanna get technical. I've always loved that name. It just fit her so well," he cracked a small smile. "That's what I wanna name our daughter some day." You gasped softly in response, making him chuckle.

"I would love to honor her like that, I know how much she meant to you, and I love her because you loved her," you squeezed his hands, admiring his rings.

"The one on my ring finger was hers," he nods to it. "Actually, I've been thinking...fuck I wanted to do this in a more special place, take you to dinner first, give you the best day possible instead of just letting me cry all over you for a few hours," he rolls his eyes at himself as he released your hands, taking the ring off and getting off the couch. Before you could take in what was happening, he was on one knee in front of you.

"I know we've been together for a few years now, and there's so much we still want in life. There's probably things we want that we don't even know we want yet. But the only thing I see as a constant in my future is you, and I love you so much. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?" He looked up at you with those big, brown button eyes of his, a hopeful smile on his lips.

"Oh my Ozzy," he laughed at your wording. "Of course I'll marry you, Edward Munson," he slid his mother's ring onto your ring finger, kissing it as it settled into place. It was surprisingly a perfect fit. He leaned up and wiped a tear away from your cheek, you didn't even notice you had started crying until he leaned in to kiss you deeply, feeling his wild curls sticking to the wet streaks on your face.

"Let's move to Chicago," you suddenly said as he pulled back.

"What?" The only emotion was shock.

"We'll be just fine, but I know that's where your heart is. We're only a six-hour drive from Chicago, we can come back to Hawkins whenever we want. We could come down every weekend if you wanted to," you smiled up at him.

"Let's move to Chicago, Mrs. Munson," he said as he kissed you again, this time you were both crying.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five short months later, your fiancé was closing the back door to the uhaul as you hugged your friends, bawling as you pulled away from Robin.

You had found the cutest apartment above a record store, where Eddie had found a management job. The owner was getting older, and even mentioned that he could turn ownership over to the two of you when he retired. It couldn't have been more perfect.

"What are we supposed to do without you guys?" Nancy sniffled harshly, burying her face in Jonathan's shoulder, being reminded of when they had moved to California for a few short years.

"Just trust me you'll be fine," you smiled as Eddie grabbed Steve into the biggest bear hug you'd ever seen.

"And you'll get your weed from this guy right here," Eddie smiled, handing off the black lunchbox to Argyle, who started bawling in response.

"Man, no way. You ain't gotta do that homie. I-," he cut himself off with a sob as El reached up to rub his back, giving a tearful smile.

"Besides," you began, "we'll be down for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and you guys will have to come up when little Caroline gets here," you smiled, rubbing your small bump.

After your tearful goodbyes, you got into the uhaul, the van had been dropped off at the new apartment as everyone had helped you take the big furniture up the weekend before, the last trip was all boxes.

Eddie climbed up to the top of the uhaul, "HELLO CHICAGO! ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?" He laughed, trying to get everyone to dry their own tears as you rolled your eyes.

"You can take the man out of the city but not the city out of the man," you laughed as you popped your arm out of the passenger side window, smacking the door as a sign for him to get down. He hopped off, giving everyone an overly dramatic bow before getting into the driver's seat, putting on his seatbelt and starting the uhaul.

As you pulled out of the driveway, you waved goodbye to your old home, your friends, Uncle Wayne, everything. You waved goodbye to the end of your beginning with Eddie.

"Goodbye, Hawkins," you said as you crossed the line into the next town over.

Eddie grabbed your hand and squeezed it softly, tapping his mother's your engagement ring, "Goodbye, goodbye," he sighed as he turned on the mix tape you'd made him for your anniversary as you pulled off into your new life.

[that-gt-and-vore-stuffs]

Experiment 05SB

Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”

I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!

Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.

“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.

“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”

“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?

“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.

“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?

“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.

“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?

“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.

“Hey I-!”

“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”

“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.

“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.

“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.

And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.

Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.

“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?

“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“

Gggnnnnnnrrrr…

Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.

Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.

“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.

Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….

“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”

They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-

Hold on.

That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.

Title: Log 073SB

Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.

Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.

“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”

There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”

“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”

“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.

“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.

Grrrrroowwwllll…

2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”

The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.

“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”

The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.

“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.

Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.

Glk

Glp~

Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.

“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”

The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.

Glrk

Grk~

“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.

Glp

Glrk~

Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.

“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.

Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.

“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.

“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.

“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.

“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.

“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.

“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.

Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.

“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”

He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.

—————————

“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.

“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.

“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.

“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”

“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”

As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.

Title: Experiment 05SB

Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.

The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-

“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.

“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”

“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc’s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”

Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.

“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.

“Bunch’a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”

[littoraly-art]

😌 💕 i feel so loved, thank youu

and might I say, you have a Very Big Brain

also 👉👈 Im sorry for the weird ask format bc uh somehow I deleted the original draft but was able to screenshot the ask bc.. long story, ANYWAYS

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A/N: this will be slightly divergent from my previous baby!Lamb fics. (But only because I briefly mentioned Geralt in my last one)

A/N 2.0: im gonna start doing page breaks for my fics bc it'll be easier organization

• General

• Fluff

• Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt

• Wolf Pup Shenanigans

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The first inkling of Eskel's suspicions started with when he set about making Lambert's new poppet.

He was seated on the low wall–the one that bordered the vegetable garden–and were basking in the warmth of the sun that gently tickled their skin. They'd been given an afternoon of free play and Lambert, for one, liked watching for birds so that he could scare them off with lots of yelling, accompanied by the brandishing of a stick. He said it was much more fun than dealing with the other students and definitely much more fun than sitting in the library with Vesemir.

Eskel couldn't blame him.

The older boy was balanced on the wall with his legs tucked into a neat criss-crossed position so that all of his materials could sit in his lap as he worked. He really didn't mind accompanying Lambert out there because he could sew just as well out there as he could anywhere else. Plus, it was fun to listen to the other wolf chatter on about his day.

Said redhead was walking himself along the wall, balancing and doing little pirouettes every so often. And, every so often, Eskel would pipe up, "wrong," causing Lambert to freeze before righting his footing. Oh, and sticking his tongue out at the older boy.

"Can you give the poppet hair?"

Eskel lifted his eyes to watch as Lambert spun yet again before the other boy jumped down and snatched up his stick from where it was laying on the ground.

"Hair? Like.."

"Like the ones in the shops down in Ard Carraigh," Lambert chirped in response, remembering back to the city he'd only ever been through once. He flashed a grin at Eskel as he climbed back up onto the low wall, now with mock sword in hand.

"You know you're not supposed to practice your drills alone."

There was a dramatic sigh and a roll of Lambert's eyes as he began smacking, along the wall with his stick, instead. "So.. Can you give it hair?"

"I.. sure?" Eskel tipped his head to the side in brief consideration and then dropped his eyes back to the item in his hands, returning to his sewing. Watching as the needle swam in and out of the soft linen fabric. Pricking his finger every so often as his tongue lightly poked out between his teeth. "..What color? Red, like yours?" Not that he knew where he'd find that color. They didn't have any dyed yarn that he was allowed to use, that he knew of.

"No. White."

Eskel paused as he lifted his eyes back to watch his friend as the younger boy was now trying to whack the stick against the heavy bough of the half dead tree that stood, gnarled, on the other side of the wall.

"White?"

"Yeah, I want it to be white."

Eskel regarded the other curiously with a tiny little smile before looking back down at his project, yet again. "I don't think we have any white yarn. How about grey or brown?"

Lambert halted in thought, holding his stick above his head with both hands. It only took a moment's consideration before he nodded lightly. "Grey works."

- -

The second instance, that Eskel stumbled upon, seemed to only confirm his suspicions.

Lambert was perched on a rickety bench that sat to the side of the training yard and he was watching raptly as one of older mentors was running Eskel's peer group through a drill that incorporated Aard. Eskel was stood off to the side to observe since he was the most adept at Signs than the rest of his peers. This allowed him to help call out mistakes, when need. And, at the moment, it allowed him the opportunity to look over and see that Lambert was zoned in on one student in particular.

Geralt.

The white haired boy was a mischievous, headstrong thing who had quite the aptitude for the graceful maneuvers of the Wolf School. His chin length, slightly curly hair was held back with a simple brown headband and the item effectively kept his hair out of his face as he twisted about in the drilled sequence.

Lambert had his knees tucked against his chest, arms wrapped 'round them and his chin settled softly on top as he studied the scene in front of him. His wide eyes followed every single movement as he murmured the names of each maneuver, under his breath.

As Eskel was called back into the group, he made a mental note to give the poppet a headband along with the white hair, and he grinned to himself.

Leave it to Geralt to inspire such dazzled eyes and intent focus.

-

Lambert had really come down to the training yard so that he could grab Eskel once he was done for the day. He had a whole list of things he wanted to do before dinner and he absolutely needed Eskel to join him in his plans. It wasn't fun to get up to trouble alone, after all.

He however realized that, as he sat to wait for Eskel, he could just as happily take that time to watch Geralt.

Geralt was the best.

He was strong and fast and funny and stubborn and so very sure of himself and goodness! Just everything that Lambert could ever dream of being.

But, he had never interacted with him before. Oh, no, no. Lambert couldn't risk that. What if Geralt thought he was dumb like the other boys did? What if he thought it was weird that Lambert looked up to him as a role model? He could not risk that.

He wouldn't know what to do if that happened.

So, there he sat, for the entire session. He sat, quiet and respectful, not interrupting so that he wouldn't be asked to leave. (Which definitely had never ever happened before..)

At the end, when all the equipment was being packed up and put away, Lambert jumped up from his spot and began making his way across the yard. He clasped his hands behind him and took steps that had a subtle little skip to them, running over his list of plans in his head.

That was when he froze, though. He watched, while holding his breath, as Geralt slung his arm around Eskel's neck and the two older boys laughed together about.. well, something. Lambert's eyes were as wide as could be and he brought his hands in front of himself to fidget as he took a couple steps back.

Oh.

The conversation between the two continued on before Eskel spotted Lambert, giving him an easy grin. He then, to Lambert's horror, began to guide Geralt over, arm around his friend's middle as they still chattered.

Once it was confirmed that they were definitely headed towards him, Lambert spooked. He was not ready to meet Geralt. Not like this.

He had an utterly embarrassed expression on his face and fidgeted with his hands more before twisting on his heel and taking off.

Not today.

--

"Lamb?"

Eskel knocked on the door that was already partially open but then he stuck his head into the room, where he spotted a large lump underneath the blanket that was draped over the far bed. The older boy smiled lightly and then slipped inside the room, gently closing the door behind him.

"Are you asleep?"

"Mm.."

"Did I just wake you?"

"..No." The voice that came after a little groan, and the sound of a yawn, said otherwise and Eskel's smile widened.

"Okay, well, sit up because I have something for you," Eskel hummed and then climbed onto the bed, holding the finished poppet in his lap. "'t's gonna to be dinner time soon anyways."

A fiery mop of curls revealed itself from under the covers and Lambert sat up fully, turning to Eskel with a tilt to his head. Questioning. Until he saw tha finished poppet, that is.

"It's done!"

"Yep. Here you go," He laughed as he handed it over. "And it looks enough like Geralt, don't you think?"

Lambert held it at arm's length with a grin before frowning quickly and furrowing his little brows. "It's not.. that's not why–"

"Well, sure it is," Eskel laughed again, good naturedly and then shifted so that he could flop onto his back, laying next to Lambert. "I can see how much you look up to him."

"That's not.."

"Nothing wrong with it, Lamb."

Lambert eyed him for a long moment and then dropped onto his back as well, so that they could lay shoulder to shoulder, as he hugged the poppet to his chest.

"..Do you like it?"

"Yeah, you did a good job," Lambert mumbled and then nudged his elbow into Eskel's side. "Thanks."

They fell into a comfortable silence as they both stared up at the ceiling, where hewn timbers ran from one side to the other. Eskel could practically feel Lambert thinking so he left him to that, knowing the other boy would speak up eventually.

And sure enough, he did.

"You're friends with him?"

"Who?"

He knew who.

"You know who."

"Who?"

"Geralt.." Lambert huffed and whined in annoyance as he kicked his foot against Eskel's leg.

"Oh.. him," Eskel stressed, teasing his friend and earning himself another light kick. "Yeah. I am. We've been friend since before me an' you were friends."

That made Lambert sit up with another huff, this one sounding particularly offended. "What? And you never told me?" He complained loudly.

"I didn't know you wanted to know..!" Eskel responded, laughing as he shook his head. "And how did you not know? We always do stuff together."

"Well–" Lambert frowned and then shoved Eskel's knees that were in a bent position, with his feet flat on the mattress. "I just didn't know!"

"Alright, alright."

Another bout of silence settled and Eskel was grinning to himself as Lambert stared down at his poppet with a look of intense focus. He draped an arm over his face so that his elbow covered his mouth; he really was trying to stop himself from laughing.

"Can I meet him?" The younger trainee said quietly, playing with the arms of the doll.

"Yeah. Go ahead. I think he's probably already down, ready for dinner."

"No!" The redhead shook his head and gave a pout as he looked up and hugged the poppet back against his chest. "You have to introduce me to him."

Eskel quirked a brow and then gave a laugh–one that he quickly apologized for when Lambert whined in offense. "Why?"

"Because.. Because I dunno what I would say," He explained in embarrassment, looking down and Eskel found himself making a sympathetic noise.

"He's just another kid like us. Just say hi."

"No.." He whined more insistently and shook his head. "You have to do it. Please, please, please? Esk, pleeeease?" He pouted more after drawing out the 'long e' sound.

"Ugh, come on." Eskel clambered off the bed and then stood up, snagging his fingers around Lambert's arm.

‐

"Geralt?" Eskel reached out to tap his friend's shoulder, and showed a sunshiny smile immediately as the other boy twisted around on the bench.

"What.. do you need?" He said slowly as he eyed Lambert–who was clutching onto Eskel's hand and partially hiding himself, eyes huge and round once again–curiously with a slight laugh.

"Lamb here wanted to meet you but wasn't sure what to say because he's embarrassed and shy," Eskel explained, to which Lambert immediately argued,

"What? Why would you tell him that? Prick!"

Geralt grinned and pushed himself to his feet as his hands settled on his hips. "He doesn't sound shy."

"Yeah! M'not!" There was a roll of eyes and huff from the youngest of the three as he let go of Eskel's hand. He folded his arms and stomped a foot.

Eskel had a proud smile on his face, having known that that would successfully crack Lambert out of his shell. The redhead was always quick to argue with things like that.

"So, Lamb?"

"Lambert." Said boy lifted his chin in a stubborn way, after correcting the nickname, and sticking out his hand for a handshake.

Geralt and Eskel smiled even more as they exchanged glances.

"Nice to meet you, Lambert," Geralt hummed and clasped the other boy's smaller hand and tilted his head to the side as he laughed. "Want to sit next to me during dinner?"

As his hand was dropped and that invitation extended, Lambert glanced over to Eskel with another wide eyed expression. Eskel simply shrugged with a big smile as he walked away to find his own spot.

He then looked back to Geralt who was gesturing to the bench with a raised brow and Lambert straightened himself up more, eyes bright.

"Would I ever !"

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@persony-pepper @lovelyeskel

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

[agentnolastname]

Half a Heart

An OH alternate universe where Casey Valentine got into Mass Kenmore Hospital's resident program instead, but she ends up meeting Ethan Ramsey anyway.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X Casey Valentine (MC)

Chapter 1

Summary: Casey runs into a car crash on her way to her apartment less than a day before her first shift as Mass Kenmore resident.

"A resident. At Mass Kenmore. I actually start my shift in a few hours." She says still not sure of how to continue speaking without stuttering.

"Oh, that's nice, I guess." Ethan says and hangs the chart at the end of the bed. "I'm gonna check on other patients. You can stay here as long as you want."

Casey nods at this and smiles. "Thanks, Dr. Ramsey."

"You're welcome." Ethan stops by the door and faced her again. "You did well. Be confident next time, Rookie."

Word Count: ~1.6K

Trigger Warning: Car Crash, Accident

Note: May contain inaccuracies

***

"Carl, we seriously have to go now, I'm running late!" Casey stumbles upon their porch as she hastily puts her boots on.

Tomorrow is her first day as a resident, and there's only one flight scheduled for Boston today. Missing it, means not being able to attend her first day. That's why she really don't want to be late. Somehow, her brother does not feel her urgency though.

"You still have a couple of hours away from your flight." He says with a straught face as he walks past her, entering the car and opening the engine. Casey enters the car immediately, closing the door off with a bang. Carl laughs at this. "You need to stop being so nervous. You'll make it, and you'll enter Mass Kenmore head up high tomorrow. You'll do great."

Casey just snorts, rolling her eyes, "Well, thanks for the vouch of confidence but the plane won't wait."

They both shared a laugh as the car starts zooming through the highway.

***

It was a seven-hour flight, but it went by fast. She didn't even know they were landing, only realizing it once they actually did. As soon as she got off the plane, she yawns and stretches. Looking around, the thought finally sinks in.

She is indeed in Boston. Alone and about to spend residency in one of the city's most promising hospital. She wasn't sure if she is ready for this, but standing there right now at the Boston Logan International made her realize one thing. It's now or never and the only thing she wouldn't be able to accept is failure. She smiles to herself capturing a picture to send to her family before getting an uber.

It wasn't long before a black sedan stops in front of her. She immediately puts her bags inside and steps inside the car, giving her apartment address to the driver before she eases back into her seat.

Boston, I hope you're ready for me.

***

The drive was supposed to be a short one, considering that her apartment was just minutes away from both the airport and Mass Kenmore. However, her car stops in the highway, just a short distance away from what seemed to be a crash. She immediately got out of her car and walks towards the scene being cleared by paramedics. She stares out in shock.

Sure, they were warned about things like this before, but even during her internship, she never experienced something like this. She scanned the area assessing how bad the situation is. Two long school busses are completely toppled over, and with only a couple of paramedics out, she's sure they aren't gonna be finished anytime soon.

She sighs, running to the triage tent where she saw a paramedic furiously going through materials.

"Are there any doctors present yet?" She asked, the man just looked at her for a brief moment, continuing what he had been doing as he answered her question.

"None. They're on their way though."

She nods as she moves out of the tent again, scanning the area. She saw a little boy not too far away, desperately trying to move his fingers. She immediately runs to where he is.

The kid is stuck in a limbo, two pieces of metal are piercing him, one on the chest and on the abdomen.

"Code red! Someone get in here!" She shouted waiting for a paramedic. One of the EMTs run to her direction pulling a gurney along with him. Another paramedic helps to remove the metal from the boy, slowly lifting it up. The EMT carried the boy carefully into the gurney. Casey follows suit, since the boy had his hand wrapped on her finger, looking at her with tears in his eyes. "You're gonna be fine."

They rode the ambulance and starts making their way to the hospital. The EMT had attached an EKG on the child.

She leans back on the seat, sending a quick text to her uber asking him to drop her things at her apartment. Then she watched the kid closely and noticed how his breathing became rapid, his jugular vein distended.

"How many minutes before the nearest hospital?"

"Edenbrook is atleat 10 minutes away."

"He's tamponading, i'm afraid we can't wait that much." She bites her lip, unsure of what to do. She's an internal medicine resident, performing anything on the boy might cause her license. However, if she does nothing, he'll have no chance at all. "I need a needle and a catheter, I'm gonna do a pericardiocentesis."

"Are you allowed to do this?"

"Do you want this kid saved?"

The EMT did not speak again, instead he handed her the needle. Which she immediately took.

"We don't have an ultrasound, you're gonna have to go in blind." Casey nods at this, shifting her gaze into the young boy's chest.

"Tell me if there's even the slightest ST elevation."

Here's to praying it'll all goes well.

***

It felt like the longest ride. The pericardiocentesis went smoothly, the kid's breathing seemed to normalize after she did it. Pericardial fluid is still draining when they arrived at the hospital. The kid had held her hand again after she finished doing it.

I have to stop being attached to people this fast.

She shakes her head as the doors opened, they were immediately greeted by a couple of hospital interns.

"Carter Thompson, a nine-year-old male, with multiple metal puncture wounds obtained from the bus crash." The EMT nods at Casey hoping she'd explain the situation further.

"His BP is 100 over 80, he went under a cardiac tamponade on the way so I had to perform an emergency pericardiocentesis. One of his arms looks obviously fractured."

"Who are you?" One of the residents looked at her, confused.

Right. Who am I. A kid is dying, Karen.

"I'm Casey Valentine. I was on my way when I saw the crash." She said. The interns just nod despite the still confused faces. She watched as they pull the gurney away, walking towards the hospital.

"I think you've made quite the call." The EMT says suddenly.

"I hope so." She smiled at him. "By the way, I'm Casey. I guess you've already heard earlier. I believe I haven't gotten your name, though."

"I'm Rafael."

"Nice name." She says as he went inside the ambulance to fix the equipments inside, letting another EMT replace the equipments taken earlier. "I think I'm gonna head inside to check on him."

"I think you should." Rafael nods and offers his hands. Casey takes and shakes it. "It was nice meeting you."

"You, too. Looking forward to see you again, soon." With that she enters the hospital.

***

She was waiting for an update for a couple of hours. She sat on the lobby checking in on her work groupchat every once in a while. She's tired from the flight, and the fiasco earlier, yet she can't find herself leaving. She would just like to make sure the boy is okay.

"Is there anyone here who knows Carter Thompson?" She sat still, waiting for someone to speak. A few seconds after, no one did. So she stands instead and approaches the nurse.

"I was the one who took him in earlier." She says. The nurse nods leading her into a room where a doctor stands, busy writing on a chart while Carter lies on the bed, still unconscious.

"Dr. Ramsey, his guardians aren't here." The nurse said the moment they got inside the room.

"We're gonna have to wait for them then."

"There's someone who is waiting for an update on him though."

Casey shifts uncomfortably as the attending looks up from his charts, his eyes landing on her.

"Who are you?" He asked, voice stern. Casey couldn't help but stare.

How is this hospital filled with good-looking people?

She clears her throat when she noticed that the man still looks at her with a straight face.

"I brought him in earlier."

"Oh, you performed the pericardiocentesis." He says and puts the chart down, turning to face her. "A good call, I must say. He is doing fine now."

Casey looks at him expectantly.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more."

Right. Confidentiality protocols.

Nodding, she speaks. "I just want to make sure he's alright. I'm not sure if I've done the procedure right earlier."

"You're a rookie?" Ethan is not one for small talks yet he found himself wanting to have a small conversation with the woman that is standing before him.

"A resident. At Mass Kenmore. I actually start my shift in a few hours." She says still not sure of how to continue speaking without stuttering.

Casey what did your brother tell you about simping?

"Oh, that's nice, I guess." Ethan says and hangs the chart at the end of the bed. "I'm gonna check on other patients. You can stay here as long as you want."

Casey nods at this and smiles. "Thanks, Dr. Ramsey."

"You're welcome." Ethan stops by the door and faced her again. "You did well. Be confident next time, Rookie." He says as he turns to leave. And then he walked away, leaving Casey with a big smile on her face.

***

Note: Hello! This is my first attempt on writing a chaptered fic, this is also my first time to write something OH-related. I hope this is atleast okay to read;-; that's the end of chapter 1! I'll update as soon as I finish the next part!

Taglist: @mvalentine @anotherbeingsworld @starberrybliss @nikki-2406 @clowneryme @drariellevalentine @lillylavander20

[fictionalrambles]

Shadowhunters Fandom Story - Part Fifteen

Submitted by jwrites_

Five Favourite Fics:

1. What's It Gonna Be by @lemonoclefox

Why I love this fic: I'm a sucker for Pride & Prejudice. San was able to take that dynamic and put it all in a modern day telling of it. I can't count how many times I've read this. Sometimes I read it all the way through, other times I go and find my favorite parts just to get that rush of emotions it never fails to give. The enemies to lovers is done perfectly, the dialogue is great and flows seamlessly, the way she tied in the storyline between Simon, Isabelle, Valentine, and Alec together was genius. I truly love every word of this story.

Favorite scene: Awkward - love - confession - in -  the -  rain

Favorite quote(s):

(Yes. Love confessions are great but have you ever overheard someone say something rude about you and then have the opportunity later that same night to be able to casually call that person out for their comment?)

"Her friend is..." He trails off, as though searching for the word, and Magnus can imagine him gesturing in the meantime. "Interesting," Jace eventually settles on, pointedly.

"Who, that Bane guy?" Alec says, and as he does, Magnus is hit with a wave of intrigued surprise. Does Alec like men? Interesting. The assumption could be wrong, of course, but Jace's tone implies that that's why he's mentioning it. "He's a bit over the top, don't you think?"

He sounds almost disdainful as he says it, as though Jace's mere suggestion is laughable, and Magnus's intrigue immediately shifts to offended annoyance. He straightens a little where he stands, reluctantly affected by it.

--

"I mean, love songs are great," Magnus admits lightly. "But stringing a few pretty words together does seem a bit unoriginal when everyone does it."

Simon shoves him lightly in offense, and Magnus can't help but laugh.

"Then what do you suggest?" Magnus is taken completely by surprise when he realizes that it's Alec who's speaking, and he turns to him. The guy's expression is neutral, but seems genuinely curious.

"Oh, I don't know," Magnus says, swirling his drink around in his glass. He shrugs. "I suppose I'm more a fan of showing and not telling. I'd much prefer someone showing interest in what I like and who I am, than comparing my eyes to the night sky, and whatnot." He gestures airily, then hesitates. He suddenly can't seem to stop himself, the memory of the Lightwoods' overheard conversation bubbling to the surface. "I think most people can appreciate that. Even if some of us are a bit over the top."

--Okay...I'm gonna go ahead and throw in a love confession~

"Look, I don't expect anything from you," he says, as though the words are hard to say. "You've made your feelings pretty clear, and I respect that. But I heard you talked to my mom, and with the stuff you said to her... I guess it just kind of made me a bit hopeful, or something. A bit." He clears his throat, while Magnus just listens. He turns to watch Alec's profile as the young man struggles to find the words, eyes on the view in front of him. "Either way, I'll admit that how I feel hasn't really changed. Maybe it should have, but..."

Alec shakes his head, and Magnus feels his throat go dry. He wants to interrupt Alec, wants to say and show everything that's bursting out of his chest, but he waits. Alec takes a deep breath then, turns to him. He looks determined.

"If you want me to," he says steadily, "I'll go. I'll leave you alone, I promise. You won't hear from me again." He pauses, licks his lips. "But if you don't want me to, if something has changed since last time, somehow... I'd really like to know. Because that would be pretty great."

2. 42 North 71 West by @lecrit​

Why I love this fic: I was blessed with the opportunity to witness Lu working on this fic from its conception to its end. I was there and still I am blown away at the way she was able to work the time jumps. I remember thinking with every chapter I read, 'Wow. The way she is telling this story is amazing. She is amazing.' Lu has a way of presenting so much honesty in her characters. She writes them in a way that feels so real, that you can't help but understand their fears and hesitations even though it hurts. The story is a back and forth told through scenes set in the past and present. You get to see what they were and where they are. The story is beautifully heartbreaking. And she was able to make me enjoy a story that dealt with politics? What? Sorcery, I tell you. -- also, the bench.

Favorite scene: This was almost impossible to choose and I took way too long trying to pinpoint just one. But I'm going to go with one that I hold very dear. When Magnus goes to visit Alec on his birthday and he finds Alec playing the song he only plays when he's sad. That's all I'm going to say because I don't want to spoil~

Favorite quote(s):

“Magnus,” Alec breathes out.

The name feels almost foreign, as if he hadn’t uttered it in too long and now his mind is troubling to catch up with his mouth. Still, it manages to make Alec’s heart stutter.

--

“We should’ve stayed on that bench in Boston,” he murmurs.

--

The good thing is, he knows where to go to find his way back. It is inked on his body, engraved into his soul, sealed into his heart.

3. Lead The Way by Clockworkswan

Why I love this fic: Because it takes the wonderful adventure of Doctor Who and packs it in with Malec. This is the ultimate fun and feel good but you will also cry at one point fic. I always go back to it if I want a wonderfully written Doctor Magnus and his adorable companion Alec. Seriously, even if you're not into Doctor Who, give this fic a shot. It's written in a way that you will get so caught up in the adventure that you won't even realize it's based on something else. And if you're a Doctor Who fan, you're in luck with all the little Easter Eggs Heather left throughout.

Favorite scene: I really don't want to spoil anything. The planet of Ablorix. This will mean nothing if you don't read the fic (so you should ;])

Favorite quote(s):

Magnus extends a hand. It’s just like before, when they were in the hallway a couple of weeks ago. It’s just as inviting as it was the first time.

“How about it, pretty boy? Name a star. Any one will do. Or a date,” Magnus says. The double meaning is evident when he winks. He pauses then, and his expression shifts, growing solemn.

A clear shift in his demeanour happens. Magnus turns from playful to sincere in the blink of an eye. Although, there was also a serious tone to it. Magnus looks at him, and understanding eyes meet Alec’s hesitant ones. “Alexander, you seem like a man in need of a break, and I am very much a man in need of a friend. Adventures are always a quick way in figuring out what you want. What do you say?”

What does he say?

He says yes.

Of course Alec does.

--

Before Magnus can think of a good retort, he tries to ignore the clenching ache his stomach gives at the sight of a confident, smirking Alec Lightwood watching him so openly. He settles for pointing in a random direction. “I have to go and see a dog about a man. Meet back here in five?”

“Uh, isn’t the expression, ‘see a man about a dog’?”

“Not when the dog ran off with the man’s wife. A rather big scandal, it seems. The president wants me to try and step in. Smooth things over, so to speak.”

At that, Alec just stares blankly.

Magnus holds up a finger. “Yes, this is normal for me. No, you may not come along. Go.”

4. Love & Other Drugs prequel of Our Love Is A Harsh Chord in the Semi-charmed Kind Life series by @la-muerta​

Why I love this fic: I'm kind of cheating here by listing two fics but they're a package deal. Love & Other Drugs was a smutty one-shot that left me wanting

more...

backstory. Let me tell you the pining and 'unrequited' love between those two demanded a story to be written. Which is why when la_muerta ran a poll on whether or not she should start it or another series first, I campaigned for this one like it was my job (I lost but I still got the series eventually so did I really lose?) The writing in this and with all of la_muerta's fics will hook you. The sadness over the back and forth between them is done so well. It's angst that will grip you and hold onto you until you eventually finish. Just go on the twitter hashtag of #OLIAHCfic and see my screaming.

Favorite scene: Probably the LSD scene.

Favorite quote(s):

Alec was still here, in bed with him.

How many times had Magnus wished that he could wake up with Alec in his arms? He didn't dare to move, wanting the dream to last a little longer, but Alec was already stirring.

--

he'll wonder if life would be a little easier if he wasn't hopelessly in love with Magnus, but it is a fact of who he is now: Alec Lightwood is 6'3, has dark hair, is gay, and is in love with Magnus Bane.

--

They are lying next to each other now, turned on their sides and face to face. The world is no longer warped and weird, but glowing and perfect. Magnus is tracing a path of lightning down Alec's body with his fingertips, and in a moment of clarity Alec understands that in Magnus' eyes he is as beautiful as he thinks Magnus is (it is the first thing Alec forgets when he wakes up sober later).

--

Words aren't enough to express how he feels, but they've always understood each other better when clumsy words don't get in the way.

5. The Lonely Hearts Hotline by @unrestrainedlyexcessive​

Why I love this fic: It's funny, it's endearing, it's heart wrenching, it's sexy, etc. The way Alec is written in this fic is one of my favorite characterizations. The way his situation can resonate with so many young adults today. That feeling when you're an adult and you feel like you should know what to do with your life and who you should be but the truth is, you're still just as lost as always. Being an adult sucks tbh and even when you're an adult, sometimes life doesn't quite feel like it. Alec's character and growth in this fic is beautiful. (I also really loved Jace in this fic)

Favorite scene: A tough choice. Probably the office party and follow up scene in Magnus' office.

Favorite quote(s):

The problem with being a new grad, in general, is that the world and job force demands you have experience, but you have to live a certain number of productive years on the planet to gain that experience.

Early adulthood is no man's land. You don’t have the experience to matter and no one wants to pay you to gain it, hence how he ended up in the precarious situation he’s in: dodgy sex work by night, an even dodgier roommate, and desperately hoping an internship eventually turns into an actual paying job.

--

Magnus runs his tongue down the knobs of Alec's spine. "You're so beautiful," he says, pausing.

"I'm really not," Alec insists, eyes fluttering closed.

"Why are you so kind to everyone except yourself?"

"I'm a work in progress."

"Aren't we all?"

[marvinswriting]

past

hurt/comfort(/hurt?) fic two :) I've combined multiple prompts I've received before in order to create this MESS GENERALIZED TW: struggling to breath; d slur; harassment (no death in this one :( ) G/t mean girls au

I guess it's my fault for expecting things to change. For thinking it may go away. 

I wasn't plastic anymore. 

Why didn't they leave me alone?

Because I was space dyke now. It's arguably worse. 

The plastics didn't have to hide their hate for me anymore.

"Please leave me alone." I repeat myself, pushed up against the wall on the tiny pick up zone. I could just run into the tiny area of the school, but Regina might follow. Even still, it is one against one rather than one against three-

I don't get a chance to test my odds as Gretchen grabs me. 

Regina was on Karen's shoulder looking amused. Karen looked a little guilty for letting this happened but she stayed quiet. 

And Gretchen-

I yelp as the hand around me tightens. 

She had me in her fist, hands pinned at my side. It was a way I haven't been picked up in a while, and you don't see me complaining. 

Damian always made sure to ask before picking me up, and even then its never in a fist.

Oh god, I can't breathe.

"Gret-" tears are forming in the corner of my eyes. I can't tell if its from emotions of the lack of air in my lungs.

Just when I think I'm going to pass out, her grip loosens.

Typical.

"Gretch, put her down. I wanna talk with the dyke." Regina says slyly.

Gretchen obediently drops me roughly on the pick-up zone.

How did this even happen?

I was supposed to be waiting for Damian.

He still had play rehearsal but I figured nobody would be here to harass me if I just waited at the pick-up zone.

I was wrong.

Clearly.

Karen places Regina down much more gently then Gretchen let me fall. 

"Hello, space dyke." Regina smiles.

"So we aren't even on first name bases anymore?" I shoot back.

Regina shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I mean- it was only a matter of time before we woke up to how worthless you are. And everyone else did too."

She gets really close to me, leaning in my face. "And that one boy? Damian? I don't think he'll stick around much longer either if I'm being honest."

I swallow hard. I'm not gonna cry. Nope. Nu-uh.

"I mean, being friends with you brings him nothing but bad attention. Anyone with common sense would leave. And does he know how fucked up you are? The dyke scared of her own shadow? The stupid girl who couldn't defend herself? Jumps at everything?"

The worst part was, Regina wasn't wrong.

I am fucked up. Every time Damian reaches out to me I flinch. If somebody yells I jump.

"You're like a scared puppy, kicked to the side of the road. Unwanted by anyone." Regina said, stepping backward. "I bet if you told Damian he wouldn't believe you. Or he'd use it as an excuse to leave."

"I would." Gretchen says.

She never speaks while Regina is talking, but Regina doesn't cut her off. I guess all is game when fucking with the space dyke. 

"Bye now," Regina says, blowing a kiss condescendingly.

Karen picks her up and the three plastics leave, satisfied with their work. 

I slip into the tiny hallway. Damian's practice should be ending soon but he has to wait. 

He'll understand.

I hope.

I can't wrap my head around the idea of being with anyone right now. Especially not somebody so much bigger than me.

Damian won't hurt me.

I knew that.

I just need to be alone.

I duck into the bathroom, a hand covering my mouth as I let out a cry. 

Why did I let their words get to me so much?

More importantly, why were they right?

Nobody wants to hang out with space dyke. And they don't even know the half of it. The plastics dropped me because they knew how fucked up I was. It's so much easier to just leave me behind. To move on and live your life.

My phone rings, causing me to jump.

Stupid. Flinching at everything.

Regina was right.

I pick up the phone, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"Jan? Where are you? Drama got out a little late but you're still not here?"

"Sorry, Damian." I chew my nail, looking at the mess in the mirror that my reflection. "Got a little sidetracked with my sketchbook. You know how zoned out I get while drawing. I'll be right over."

"Okay." Damian says simply. I hang up before he can say anything more and quickly try and make it look like I wasn't just crying. 

I wipe my mascara away from under my eyes and fix my hair before rushing out of the bathroom. Damian was already there, as predicted.

"Hey, hon." He smiles, placing his hand down next to me.

I take a small step back on instinct before walking over and climbing on. Damian transfers me to his shoulder, where I sit on the edge, legs handing off his shoulder. 

"You can sit closer to my neck yknow," Damian begins as he starts walking. "I don't want you to fall."

"Yeah," I say softly, but I don't bother to move. 

We pass a group of football jocks as Damian makes his way to the bus stop. It's only then when I lean in closer, grabbing onto his hoodie. 

I make eye contact with one of the boys and I stiffen, but he rolls his eyes and keeps walking. 

Damian sits down at one of the benches. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"You're acting odd today. I can't figure out why but something is up. Did anybody come up to you before I was done with theater?"

While Damian may not know about the plastics, he knew about the general harassment from the school. He knew I didn't finish eighth grade in school because it was so bad. But he didn't know about what Gretchen did. Or what Regina said.

I waved away invisible flies with a nervous laugh. "It's fine. I'm fine. It's really nothing, okay?"

"Jan, you can't expect me to believe nothing happened. Not when you flinch every time something touches you." 

I look down at my boots. The hurt in Damian's voice was too much. 

"You can trust me. I know something is wrong but I can't help you unless you open up. I can't understand unless you explain it to me."

I chewed my lip. "You're gonna wanna leave." I mumble. I'm not even sure if Damian can hear me. 

I mean, it made sense. Who wanted to hang out with the space dyke. Damian was probably just waiting for an excuse to leave me behind. I know I would. 

A hand comes up to gently scoop me off his shoulder and I know he heard. 

"Janis. You're my best friend. Even in the two months, we've gotten close I can say that with confidence. There is no one else I'd rather hang out with, no matter what. I won't leave."

I look up at him. Just like the say we met there's into anything but genuine care in his eyes. 

I know what I'm about to say might make Damian take back everything. I know nobody wants to hang out with space dyke in general. And they don't know the underlying baggage. 

"Janis." Damian pushes again. His thumb rubs my arm reassuringly. "Please tell me what's hurting you."

I take a breath, fully aware that I could be destroying the one good friendship I ever had. "You know Gretchen?"

-

I didn't go into full depth on what Gretchen would do. 

I also didn't mention today. And how much the words hurt.

I glazed over it, trying to give Damian as little reason to leave as possible.

Still, by the time I was done Damian had shifted so his hands were cupped protectively around me and he looked like he was about to cry.

I didn't even tell him the worst.

"I didn't know." He said softly.

I shrug. "How could you have?"

"Janis what she did was seriously not okay. It's perfectly valid for you to be fucked up over it. I'm not gonna ditch you because of that."

I let myself sink into his hands further. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Damian slips me into his jacket pocket as the bus pulls up. "Let's talk more at my house, okay? I won't be able to hear you on the loud bus."

I nod, knowing Damian can't see me. 

Slipping down further into the pocket I can already feel the fear of Damian leaving fade. If he wanted to leave why push it off? Why not just drop me right here and let me find my own way home? The tiny bus wasn't here yet, he definitely could have. But he didn't.

The giant bus was loud, with students yelling and mumbling into each other. But I didn't freak out. I was with Damian. Nothing was going to happen to me.

yet another fic where janis walks away safe. but how many more? tags! @realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @smallsoysauce @sourishlemons

[oveliagirlhaditright]

RokuShi Day Fic 1/Day 1. Prompt: Pining

Chemistry

Xion was jealous of Roxas and Olette... It was silly and dumb—she knew that it was, because they were great together and deserved every happiness—but it was what it was. Though she made certain that her feelings didn’t cloud her judgement and that she became mean to either party.

It had all started when Roxas had suddenly latched onto Olette as the "normal one" in their group of friends. For as much as Roxas loved Hayner, he—like all of them—could get annoyed with his temper when it came to all things Seifer... as well as his hare-brained schemes, that he barely helped out with. And Pence had really been getting into his superstitions lately, which kept him from being “normal”… whatever that word meant.

And as for Xion herself? Well, she'd probably been venting to Roxas too much about how she wasn't sure she wanted Isa in their lives... It was a work and progress, anyway. So Xion understood why Roxas would end up going with Olette, especially since Olette was a constant pillar of light, in helping him—them—from flunking the year.

And then Roxas had gallantly offered to be Olette's date for the dance. And that was when it had really become clear to Xion that she’d never be in Roxas’ heart… at least not in the way she wanted to be.

And ever since that date, Roxas and Olette had been inseparable. And it warmed Xion's heart and broke it at the same time.

At the moment, Xion and Vivi were in science class together. And he was secretly using some of the magic that he apparently had, to get the Bunsen burner cold while they put a pop can on top of it. Xion had told him to do this, as she was pretty sure that that was what their teacher had instructed them to do. But it was hard to remember, because she couldn’t keep her attention from wandering over to Roxas and Olette.

...If she was hearing them at their table correctly, it sounded like Roxas was saying how weird it was, that every young adult book had the intended couple in it as lab partners in it... and Olette was laughing at that jest... Because of course she was. She, like Roxas now, was well read enough to get the joke, it seemed, whereas Xion wasn't… She didn’t know that “lab partner romance” seemed to be a trend.

And it was as Xion was having that depressing thought, that Vivi's words reached her. "Xion, you were wrong! We weren’t supposed to freeze the can and then heat it. We were supposed to do it in the reverse order!”

But it was too late.

Xion had made the mistake of rapidly heating a cold can instead of rapidly cooling a hot one, and the item exploded!

Thankfully, Xion was able to whip out her Keyblade just in time—to use an aero spell, so that the shrapnel  wouldn't rain down on anyone and hurt them.

But her experiment was a failure—and she even had Roxas and Olette's attention now—and she put her head on her desk and dreamed of somehow fazing into it so no one would see her.

...

In the end, Xion actually wasn't in trouble for the experiment gone wrong. Rather, her teacher was impressedthat she'd figured out how to make it explode all on her own, and thus must have greatly been improving in her understanding of Chemistry… though he of course pointed out that she should never do such a thing again. He also seemed moved  by the “phenomenon that had been around her to lessen the blast”. And Xion had had to lie through her teeth to try and think of a convincing answer that had nothing to do with Keyblades, magic, or other worlds.

And once she had miraculously done that, she was happily out the door and heading home.

“Xion!” Roxas called her name as soon as she began heading in that direction, whilst he hurried down the stairs after her. “Hey, wait up! Don’t you want to walk home together? And, hey… are you okay? What happened with the experiment today? I saw that you… you and Vivi took down the notes right, so-”

Oh, no. Was Roxas reprimanding her in the way that Isa had used to? As that depressing thought and trauma came back to Xion, the best she could do was come up with the best explanation she could think of and try to sound sincere. “S- Sorry, Roxas. I freaked out and forgot what I was doing. I swear I transported back into the girl I was in Organization XIII, who knew nothing of the world… strange.”

“…Do you want to talk about it?” Roxas asked her now, as he ran to her side and dropped his books so he could put a hand on her face. And oh, how that hurt in the best way possible. And Roxas looked so beautiful in the sunlight that Xion wanted to cry. “Xion, you can talk to me about anything. You know that, right? I’m sorry I stopped listening to you about Isa some—you have every right to feel how you do about him—but I just felt torn in the middle, since you were hurt by Isa ,and Le- Axel was singing his praises. But I swear I’m here for you.”

Xion smiled, and even leaned towards Roxas some. She couldn’t help it. Because while this didn’t solve her problem about Roxas loving another… she had felt heartbroken she’d been, that Roxas hadn’t been listening to her about this touchy subject lately. So, she was glad that he was here now.

“Thanks, Roxas!” Xion exclaimed, as she clapped her hands together—taking a page from Kairi and Naminé’s books, probably—“but I- I swear I’m doing better with this now. But let’s celebrate being good friends again! Why don’t we go see a movie… platonically, of course. We’ll get all of our friends together, and-”

“…Will Vivi be there?”

‘Wow. Roxas must really be trying to be certain that Olette wouldn’t get the wrong impression that the two of us like each other’, Xion thought. 'I'd better try and reassure him.' "Of course he will. Vivi is our friend, right? Especially since we found out he's sick... right?"

"Right..."

But Roxas didn’t seem to like something about that answer, because he let Xion walk home alone, after all, as he suddenly seemed to recall that he had a chess club meeting that night… But when had Roxas ever been in the chess club? Xion thought it best to leave that conundrum alone, and bring Axel and Isa the fried ice cream she’d made in home economics, before it spoiled.

…

That night, when they were back home—though Xion had thought that she and Roxas were somewhat thick as thieves again—he didn't say a word to her at dinner (and rather seemed to be promptly ignoring her). And so Xion was left wondering what she'd done wrong…

Xion had gone back to her room pretty miserable then, and had called Vivi on the phone like she often did, and had fun talking to him about their video editing class…

And just when Xion was done talking to him, Roxas suddenly walked into her room and gave her a look, that she was instantly coming up with come back after come back for whatever he was about to say. "Don't you think you should lay back when it comes to Vivi some? He's younger than us, and-"

But what he did say had certainly took the wind out of her sails, so that Xion could only look at him dumbfounded as she knelt on her bed. "…Roxas, he's a year younger than us ,but in our grade because he's a genius who got promoted. Where is this coming from? I thought you wanted me to hangout with Vivi! And at least I'm not like you, pretty much bribing a teacher, to let you go to the next grade so you can stay by Olette’s side!"

And for the first time since Roxas had fallen in love with another, Xion let her envy on full display… and she hated that her beloved had to see her like this. Hadn’t she always tried to be the selfless one?

"Wait... what?!" Roxas asked. He sounded confused; and this got to Xion, because usually when Roxas was upset about something… well, his first reaction was to be angry. So, the fact that he just sounded confusednow must have meant something. And was it Xion... or did his next words have a sympathetic air to them? "Xion, do you think I'm in love with Olette?"

Xion blinked a few times at this, as it all suddenly came together in her heart. But what was one to expect from her? She'd just figured out that the boy she'd loved for so long wasn't with another, after all... and that he'd been afraid that she was.

And it was at this point, that Xion burst out laughing and kicked her legs to and fro, as she completely fell back onto her periwinkle bed.

And Roxas blushed, and rubbed the back of his neck in what looked to be an embarrassed manner. If she had to guess, she would have assumed he’d done the math, too. But right now, she was too amused to put that belief into words. "We've, uh, been pretty dumb here, Xion. Haven't we? I've just been hanging out with Olette because I thought you were with Vivi... and since her family was making fun of her for not having a date to prom. It was a whole thing. But you and Vivi... you've just been friends?"

And Xion rocketed off her bed and ran towards Roxas so fast, that she dove into his arms. It was actually a wonder that her socked feet hadn't caused the rug to catch on fire, honestly… How ironic, that would have been. "Roxas,” Xion giggled, as she held Roxas’ face in her hands this time, “I can only ever just be friends with someone who isn't you. How have you not figured out yet that I love you, when I sacrificed myself for you and so much else?"

If it had been Sora with Kairi, Xion thought, he would've been shocked by this... said he loved Kairi too, or any number of things. But not Roxas, because he wasn't Sora—she wasn't either—and neither was she Kairi.

Instead, Roxas came forward, kissed her passionately for some beautiful seconds, and then grabbed her hand to begin leading her downstairs. "Xion, what do you say we head downstairs, and give Lea and Isa the nightmare that we're dating? I think that will be hella fun. And get back at Isa for how he treated you some, maybe.”"

And while Xion was pretty sure that Axel and Isa must’ve known it was going to go this way for a while, Xion squeezed Roxas' hand—and let him move her, thank you very much—and shouted "Let's!"

And something about the way they moved, did catch the fuzzy steps on fire.

[j0shy]

thu, 3 march 2022

i already wrote today's entry once before, but apparently tumblr hates me.

let me try again.

today, i stayed in bed until 12 pm so i didn't have to eat. i know i shouldn't have done that, but i felt like if i was still in bed, i wasn't technically "skipping" breakfast, and i was really worried about eating pizza for dinner.

when i eventually did get up, i ate a tub of melon pieces. it's not like i was planning to not eat all day!

mum was already awake when i came downstairs, so that was nice. usually i have to wake her. but she left for work early. she also got home early!

yesterday she yelled at me and i felt really bad. i was trying to explain my experience as a trans man to her, because we were talking about how i don't feel safe walking the streets here sometimes. she just kept repeating that she doesn't experience living here that way and i was like "that's great for you, but this place is pretty backwards and i am openly trans and queer, so it's different" but i guess she didn't want to hear that.

i always freeze up when people yell at me. my mum's no different. i feel like she uses it to her advantage, because she knows once she raises her voice she'll automatically "win".

anyway. so for dinner i ate pizza, and then i took a walk. i'll admit it was a panic walk, because i finished almost the entire pizza, and i obviously don't know how many calories it had, though i'm guessing it was around 1500.

it was a really nice walk, though! the sun was setting and it was kind of chilly, but combine that with the exercise i was getting and it just felt nice!

i've been avoiding going on long walks because... well mostly because after work, i get lazy. but also because the obsessive way i was doing it before wasn't enjoyable and i didn't want to fall back into that.

i guess i forgot walking can also be nice, too. i might go on a walk again, tomorrow. or maybe not. i have blisters.

only a few more days until i'm supposed to fly to america. i'm really worried i'll test positive for covid the day before. mum has symptoms. she tested negative on a home-test, but i don't really trust those. or that she took it the right way.

there's more things i'm worried about regarding america. like: i'm worried jubilee won't be who they say they are. i'm worried they'll hurt me and because i'm stuck in another country, i won't be able to leave. i'm worried we won't do all the things they say we'll do: that instead i'll be stuck inside their house. i'm worried they'll treat me like they have to do what i say. sometimes they already try even now.

i'm worried they'll be angry and depressed all the time: that something will be wrong every day that i can't fix.

i'm also worried i won't be able to finish the fic i'm working on on ao3. i only have 3 more chapters to go, but just like always, having to write the ending is giving me a bit of anxiety.

also... look. i know how this entry sounds. the future therapist who's going to read this (because showing them my journal is easier than trying to explain everything) is probably going to think i'm engaging in some pretty self destructive patterns. i'm worried about eating. i'm counting my steps. i have a job down south but i'm planning on quitting and moving back home to a place where in the past i've never thrived.

but i'm trying to recover from my disordered eating. i don't know if what i had ever counted as a disorder, but i don't want it to be that. i also don't want to go back to eating my feelings every time i feel bad, because i always feel bad. that's kind of the entire reason i wanna go back to therapy after all this time. it's not getting better.

i have a job i actually like and i live in an entirely different place where i was trying to build a future away from my mother and i'm getting out of my comfort zone and doing fun things i would never have otherwise done, and i still think about jumping in front of a train and i still hate myself and i still want everything to just stop.

back with my mum, i can go back to therapy. mum even wants to go to therapy together, which means i can think about a future that she's actively a part of where hopefully our relationship isn't so toxic.

i can also go back to school. maybe i can figure out a dream for the future that isn't just "make money and survive". maybe if i figure out what i want, i can actually make something of my life.

plus. i miss my cat. and he lives with my mum. so.

breakfast: skipped

lunch: melon (50)

dinner: pizza (?)

total: ???

[anghraine]

I have a very, very vague memory of there being more of Subsequent Connections than show up on AO3 -- am I totally wrong? It's a delightful series that definitely shows how two very different people deal with finding a birth family -- and in their case, it wasn't something they'd sought for themselves. I was rereading it today and really enjoying it, and thought I'd ask.

Oh, thank you very much! 

It’s such a weird concept for a P&P fic—I would never have thought of it on my own, but I read a couple with the idea of Jane and Elizabeth as Fitzwilliams, and was like “well, if I wrote it, I’d do x and y to make it less painful and then z to make it MORE painful and wouldn’t it be interesting if…” Therein lies the path to hell.

I thiiiiiink the eleventh chapter of SC on AO3 is as far as that particular version of the story ever got, though I had some “missing scene” side pieces that it doesn’t look like I crossposted. I’ve been catching up on crossposting anyway, so I could move those over.

Also, there was an original (substantially different) version of the story that might be what you’re thinking of? With this one, I really wanted to focus more on exactly what you mentioned—the discovery as more than a plot device, the profound effects of Jane having memories of her birth family where Elizabeth doesn’t coupled with differences in personality/situation, the really bizarre position that Darcy ends up in, a more subtle take on the Elizabeth vs Eleanor tension, Milton’s melodramas, and so forth. It’s a lot more gradual.

Bearing in mind that I last updated in *squints* 2009, I dug up my folder for the fic (I save everything), and it looks like I actually was working on something in 2010! And… oh hey, it says Ch 12. I genuinely have no memory of working on this, so this is about as new to me as to anyone else, but … here is what I’d written:

ChapterTwelve

“Goodmorning, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabethsmiled. “Good morning. How is my grandmother?”

“Herladyship is … she will be pleased to see you, madam.”

Sheis always pleased to see me, Elizabeththought, with more than a trace of regret. Lady Ancaster, haughty,whimsical, and often disordered in her mind, was regarded withvarying degrees of trepidation by all the others.

Eleanor,usually fearless, would greet her with a white face and icy,trembling hands, and turn paler and colder until she fled. Elizabethfelt not the smallest surprise that Eleanor’s brash sort ofcourage, if courage it could be called—all good nerves and boldspirits—would desert her in such a matter as this, and disliked herall the more for it. Yet even Cecily could endure only a few minuteswithout palpable discomfort. Edward refused to come without hisbrother or sister, correcting Lady Ancaster in a flat, humourlessvoice nothing like his own, while loquacious Richard rarely spoke.

Elizabethherself neither felt nor understood any of this. She sat with LadyAncaster almost every day, and treasured thequiet hours she spent with her, away from the rest of the world—reading novels aloud or eagerly listening to her reminiscences. Itwas such a relief to escape from everything,just for a little while; the troubles and irritations of her lifeseemed to weigh much less on her mind, when she could confide them insomeone who listened evenwhen she did not understand.

It helped, too,that Lady Ancaster always loved her, whether she knew her or not. Elizabeth found it strangely easy to accustom herself to being called“Catherine” or “Laura” or even “Cassandra,” often in thecourse of a single conversation.

“Good morning,Grandmama,” she said gaily, kissing her forehead. “How are youtoday?”

“Very well.” Lady Ancaster cast her a sly look. “I heard that you danced thricewith Lord Bertie. I hope you are not thinking seriously of him.”

Elizabethhad never heard of him in her life. She laughed. “Indeed not. Idid go to an assemblylast night, however; we all did. I did not sit down once.”

“Youhave always enjoyed dancing,” Lady Ancaster remarked. Elizabethchose to believe this was true—true for her,not one of the phantoms of her ladyship’s memory.

“I expect so. Icannot remember a time when I did not—so I enjoyed the assembly. Perhaps you do not know, but it was my first since my f—since Icame to Houghton. I cannot remember all the people I met, but theywere all pleasant to me.”

Lady Ancaster casther a sharp look. “Only to you, Phylly?”

“ ‘Tis Elizabeth,not Philadelphia,” she said easily, “and of course they were not. At least—well, everybody was very deferential to my uncle,naturally, and people always seem to like Edward for some reason.”

“Charm andcharity do not always have very much to say to one another.”

Elizabeth’sbrow furrowed. “Er, quite so. Then there is Richard; he makeshimself agreeable everywhere. Eleanor, I suppose, intimidates theworld into fearful awe, but Cecily—I could not help overhearing—”

“Do you refer to the elder MissFitzwilliam?” Sir George looked incredulous. He was abaronet, Elizabeth had been reliably informed—a young, attractivebaronet of good family—four thousand a-year—and expectationsof a doting godmother, too—

“The younger is, er, dancing with,er, Mr Talbot, I believe.”

“I believe,” he saidicily, “that a man of family and refinement, such as myself, mightaim a little higherthan a witless, penniless girl with no greater claims than those shealready makes on the earl’s charity. Forgive me if my requirementsare too nice.”

Elizabeth,scarcely able to believe her ears, turned to Cecily in astonishment. She immediately wished she had not; Cecily’s bloodless face crumpled—in humiliation, misery—in everything but surprise, then wentblank.  Elizabeth was strongly reminded of a kicked puppy.  

“I know you are fond of Cecilia, and her circumstances certainlyattract an undesirable degree of attention,” Lady Ancaster said,“but Laura, dear, you must know by now that your cousin is quitecapable of managing her own concerns.”

Elizabethpressed her lips together. “Forgive me, madam, but Cecilyis nothing of the kind.”

Something flickered in her grandmother’s eyes. “Cecily?” sherepeated. “It was not Henry’s Cecilia, then? I never heard thatshe was called—oh!  'Twas little Cecilia, then?”

“Yes, Grandmama.”

“Ohdear.”

Elizabeth snatched at the moment of lucidity. “Sir George Pelham—I don’t know if you are acquainted with him, but he declined to dancewith her in very uncivil terms. No; I believe it was more than awant of consideration, but active cruelty. Poor Cecily heard everyword.”

“I detest all the race of Pelhams,” said Lady Ancaster.

“I certainly detest him.” Elizabeth sprang up, unable to remainquiescent in her chair, and paced furiously before the window. “Heasked to dance with me later. I am no handsomer than Cecily and wehave all the same connections, so I cannot think what made thedifference.”

“I trust, my dear, that you managed to refuse the compliment in thespirit it deserved.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I persuaded him that he must have mistaken mefor Eleanor.”

“Theresemblance is not thatstrong.” Lady Ancaster gave her a sharp look. “You must havebeen very persuasive, Elizabeth.”

Sheopened her eyes very wide. “Oh, but Sir George could not haveintended such a great compliment to me, a mere poor relation of LordAncaster’s. He made that perfectlyclear when he disparagedmy cousin to half the room; only the earl’s daughtercould possibly be worthy of such a discriminating taste.”

“I see,” murmured the countess.

“Naturally,” Elizabeth added, her tone sharpening, “I alwayswish to be of use to my superiors, so I explained his error to himbefore I returned to my proper place. He must have understood, forhe asked Eleanor to dance immediately afterward.”

“Did she accept?”

“Eleanor? Of course not.” And her brusque refusal had expressedall the astonishment and contempt that Elizabeth could have hopedfor. Sir George had been humiliated before everyone in earshot.

Hergrandmother laughed, then fell silent; Elizabeth remained at thewindow, staring at the dirty, melting snow. In retrospect,she supposed she should not have done it. Polite set-downs were onething; with her sharp tongue and quick temper, and even a sort ofinnocent vanity, she had certainly delivered more than one of those. But this was not an intemperate remark. Spur-of-the-momentthough it had been, she had contrived—schemed.  

Elizabeth shut hereyes. She had been so angry, the blazing fury blinding her toeverything but herself and that stupid, self-important littlepopinjay. Since her father’s death, apathy seemed to have consumedevery slice of rage she ought to have felt, until that moment. Thenall at once, she felt it all.

Mr and Mrs Bennet—and Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam—were gone. She could hardly returnEleanor’s abrasive manners or Edward’s caustic insouciance in kind,not without descending to their level of incivility. James and Janedeserved nothing less than the gentle kindness they dispensed to all. As for Darcy, she could not say with any certainty what she thoughtof him, or felt toward him. He was clever, interesting; hehad not thought her handsome enough to dance with; he had started allof this; he was at Pemberley.

In some fashion oranother, they were all beyond the reach of her anger; but Sir George,standing before her—smiling—

“Goodmorning,” whispered Cecily, her smile bright and brittle. “How is she today?”“Well enough,”Elizabeth said. “She had a few lucid moments, atleast.”Cecily bit her lip. “I—I washoping I could steal you away, Elizabeth. The snow is nearlyall melted, and my uncle says we may walk out again.”“Oh! I should very much enjoy that—just permit me a moment to put apillow under—thank you, Theodore.” She bent to kiss LadyAncaster’s wrinkled cheek, then hurried after Cecily.“Thankyou,” she said. “You see, Sir George called; SirGeorge Pelham, who—you remember? He—Ella refused to dancewith him last night. Apparently he has some business withEdward.”Elizabeth laughed. “I did notknow anybody had business with Edward.”“Hedoesn’t.” Cecily quickened her steps. “Ofcourse he came to see Ella. Brown thinks so, at any rate; Ididn’t see him myself—did not even know he was here, until she toldme. Then I went down to Lord Ancaster’s study, and found you,and—well. I would rather not see him, and it is a niceday.”“It is a very nice day,” Elizabethagreed, uncertain whether she felt more pity at Cecily’s quandary, oramusement at Eleanor’s.“That is exactly what Ithought! And—and perhaps you would like to see Gulliver? I am sure you haven’t.”Elizabeth, though lighter andseveral inches taller than her cousin, almost ran to keep up withher. “Who is Gulliver?” she asked breathlessly,blinking when they stepped outside, into the daylight.“Mydog,” said Cecily, smiling more genuinely. “Oh, I amglad to be outside again. Are not the gardens pretty?—He’s twelve years old; Fitzwilliam gave him to me when he was justa puppy. He said it was a favour, that Gulliver was sougly that nobody else would take him, and he certainly didn’t wanthim, but I knew better. It was my birthday, and boys—youknow how they are.” “Oh, yes,” saidElizabeth.“Edward and Richard’s dogs frightened him,poor thing, so he doesn’t sleep in the house any more. EvenAunt Milton’s pug terrified him. It was ridiculous,really, to see Gulliver cowering before a little dog like that.”“Ishould like to see him very much,” Elizabeth said, rememberingJane’s account of her early quarrels with Pugsy. “I adoredogs. Where do you keep him, Cecily?”Cecilyhesitated, then grinned up at her, her usual manner entirelyrestored. “I shan’t tell you until we get there,” shesaid airily.  “It will be a surprise.—Do not worry,it isn’t far.”They talked lightly as they walked,somewhere between enjoyment and relief. Cecily spotted a bunchof chrysanthemums with a cry of delight, promptly picking them all. Elizabeth only shook her head and asked about their second cousins ontheir mothers’ side.Within a few minutes, she foundherself staring at a small, square, ridiculously picturesque house. It was built on a small eminence, backed by three stands of trees,and looked out upon all the splendour and elegance of Houghtonproper.  Snow still adorned the roof, cheerful yellow curtainshung in the windows—windows undoubtedly covered by honeysuckle inthe summer. Gilpin himself could not have improved upon it.

“Is it notpretty?”

“Very,” saidElizabeth. “Is this the parsonage?”