#if there’s one thing I want for them it’s for them to be cozy

[drmaicol]

Spade and Speranza

The Valley is vast and magical, with dense forests home to spirits and fae. Silent castles and ruins sit on the mountains, while life in the few villages along the rivers is cozy and uneventful. Until, with winter came the Emissary of the Necromancer King, bringing war and destruction.

Players, describe yourself and tell your stories: How did you survive? Who have you lost? Why do you want to fight? The Valley is not lost, not until your swords are held with hope.

When facing danger or risking something dear, roll 1d6 If you fight prepared or if you choose to take a wound (Die heroically if it’s the 3rd) get +1 If you fight Nightmares, Monsters or formidable Foes get -1

0- Failure with consequence 1 The Emissary draws closer, feeding on your fears. Reroll with -2 2-3 Failure with opportunity 4-5 Success with consequence 6 The Valley fight with you. Reroll with +2 7+ Success with opportunity

GM: ask further questions, play to find out, put them in danger, call for rolls, and add details in your style. Consequences: Things get worse, New threat, Setback, Cost, or Future complication Let the Players propose Opportunities

Hi Everyone Dr Maicol (He/Him) here. I'm here to add little more context \o/ First, I'm Italian so sorry if my english does not english well :v

This year i challeged myself (and failed) to write one game a week (only mate do week 28 till burnout) with the space of a Threads/Bluesky post (more or less 300 characters spaces included). So 200 words were more of a challenge on "adding more". Anyway this experience really helped my with my game-design fatigue and I look forward to retry my challenge here on thunblr and maybe on Substack. This time with the 200 word limit instead. Feel free to, copy, remix and reflavour this game. You can easily change the fiction-tags on 1 and 6 to suit your setting. Than change the contitions to get +1/-1 to adapt the narrative tensione and what you want your players seek during play. Keep it simple obv Thank you all for reading and happy holidays

200 Word RPGs 2024

Each November, some people try to write a novel. Others would prefer to do as little writing as possible. For those who wish to challenge their ability to not write, we offer this alternative: producing a complete, playable roleplaying game in two hundred words or fewer.

This is the submission thread for the 2024 event, running from November 1st, 2024 through November 30th, 2024. Submission guidelines can be found in this blog's pinned post, here.

[marril96]

Safe Haven

Chapter 1: Guilty as Sin

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it's up to you to help her.

To say you and Agatha had parted on bad terms would be an understatement of the century.

You'd forgiven her a lot of things, and could forgive so much more, but the one thing you just couldn't get past was her forgetting your anniversary because she was too busy draining some random witch that wasn't even powerful enough to justify leaving you hanging.

You'd exploded. It was like someone had pulled a switch, and an atomic bomb had gone off, turning everything in its path to dust. You'd unleashed all the things you'd been holding back; centuries of pent up rage, of resentment pouring out of your mouth. Raging and burning. Stinging its target's flesh like lava dripping on skin.

Things you couldn't believe could ever come out of your mouth shot out, bitter, venomous. Bullets aiming for the heart.

You'd called Agatha selfish. Had accused her of not caring about you, of valuing power over you. Had said she'd never loved you, and, if she'd thought she had, you'd certainly never felt it. Had told her other witches were right to have never trusted her for not an ounce of her was worthy of being trusted.

"I can't look at you right now. I don't wanna look at you," were your final words before you'd summoned your magic and had taken off for the sky. Far, far away from her.

It wasn't exactly a breakup. The two of you had had periods of separation throughout the centuries, usually brought on by one of you wanting to travel and the other preferring to cozy up somewhere for a few months. In the end, you would always find your way back to each other. The few times you had parted on bad terms, you were back in each other's arms within days.

You could never stay apart for too long.

Until now.

Three months and counting. No calls. No texts. Both of you were too stubborn, too proud to pick up the phone and make the first move.

Not that it would do much.

You doubted there was coming back from this fight.

If someone had said those things to you, you wouldn't want to see their face, either. Not for a very long time. Possibly not ever again.

You didn't even mean what you'd said. You were just so angry, and Agatha had made a mistake, and you'd wanted to punish her. You'd wanted to hurt her. You'd wanted her to feel how you were feeling. Wanted her to feel worse. You'd wanted to shove a knife in her gut and twist it.

What you'd actually done was aim for the heart and shatter it until it was nothing but specks of dirt under your feet.

Every day since that fateful night had been hell.

You weren't sure how you were able to survive; guilt had been eating you alive, bit by fleshy bit. The words you'd said echoed in your head. Had kept you up at night. Had brought tears to your eyes every time you'd replayed them.

Agatha was no angel, far from it, but she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve a fraction of the venom you'd spewed in her face.

Maybe that had been a breakup, after all.

You didn't see her forgiving you that kind of cruelty.

You certainly would never forgive yourself.

Loud banging shook you back to the present, to your lonesome reality. Someone — something — was at your front door, insistent, desperate to get inside. The hinges squeaked under the force of the blows.

Blood ran cold in your veins.

You lived in the middle of nowhere; a deliberate choice, as your kind historically didn't fare well among people. Or each other. Experience had taught you that witches could be as treacherous as humans, even more so. Miles and miles of trees surrounded your home, cocooning it, shielding it. Hiding it and you from the world.

Who could possibly be at your door this late in the evening?

A lost or injured hiker? A runaway kid seeking help?

Someone who meant you harm?

The prospect didn't worry you too much; you'd made sure the entrance to your home was spelled so that nobody and nothing could get in without your explicit permission. Hunters and rogue witches, as well as regular, run of the mill thieves, had raided too many spaces you'd thought were safe over the centuries.

When you'd acquired this house, you were determined it was never going to happen again.

It was Agatha who had suggested protection like that. She knew how much it meant to you to have a place to call yours, to call a home, so she'd flipped through the pages of that dark magic book of hers that you weren't allowed to come near (with good reason: you'd avoided that thing like the plague) and had found a spell that would protect you from unwanted guests 

It had worked wonders so far.

Still, as you cautiously padded to the door, one of your hands lit up with magic; a witch could never be too careful. You unlocked the door and opened it a crack, then wide as your eyes fell upon the familiar dark brown hair.

Agatha.

Your heart raced, first with excitement at seeing her again, then with concern as the condition she was in settled in.

Her clothes were ripped. Her hair was a mess, as if she hadn't brushed it in days. Blood ran down her mouth, down her chapped lips. Deep, purple bruises marred her face, painted it dark and painful.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, in disbelief at the sight before you. This had to have been some kind of an illusion. The Agatha you knew could never get hurt like this. No matter what the situation was, she would find her feet. She would never allow for it to get this far.

Her power was too grand for even a remote possibility of something like this.

Then why was she standing at your door, bruised and bloody?

Why was she shivering?

Why did she look so fucking scared that it broke your heart all over again, as your own cruel words had the night that you'd abandoned her?

"Y/N, please, let me in," she said. There was no usual snark in her tone, no humor. No playfulness that you'd come to miss in the months since you'd last seen her. Her voice was strained, as if it hurt to talk. As if it was taking the last remnants of the strength she had left to push the words out. "Please." There was a pause, a pained one, then she said, completely and utterly weak, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

She didn't even have to ask.

"Come here," you said, reaching for her. It was an instinct you'd grown into over the centuries of being with her. When she needed you — when she was cold or sad or injured — you were at her side with arms wide open. No questions asked. No demands made. All that mattered was getting her well. Making the pain she was in go away.

Hands on her shoulders, you gently coaxed her inside, and then locked the door behind her.

She didn't have to ask to be let in. Didn't have to cower and beg for mercy.

Even with the protection spell, Agatha had been welcome here from the very start. This was her home as much as it was yours. No matter how angry you were at her, you would never deny her access. Had never denied it.

What you had done, you remembered, chills running down your spine like ants, was tell her you couldn't look at her.

Was that why she was in this condition? Did she think you wouldn't help her if she called? Did she think you didn't care about her anymore — that you didn't care whether she lived or died?

Did she think you would slam the door in her face and leave her to tend to herself?

Swallowing the guilt that pressed on your chest like an ill-fitted corset, you helped Agatha to the couch. She walked with a limp, one hand pressed to her side, each breath she took a labor, a chore. Whoever had harmed her had done a number on her.

You'd seen her lose fights before. You'd seen her beg for mercy. But it had never been this bad. Not even close.

Whoever had done this to her had better leave the country, had better leave the fucking planet if they wanted to live for another day. Once you found them, they would wish they were dead.

That was a promise, and you always kept those when it came to Agatha.

"Is this okay?" you asked. "Do you need a blanket, or a pillow, or—"

"It's fine," she said, taking a few breaths to steady herself, each more painful than the other.

It shattered your heart into a million pieces.

She didn't deserve this. No matter what she did or whom she managed to piss off, she didn't deserve to be in this kind of pain.

As tenderly as you could, you laid your hands over hers. Agatha stiffened, startled, confirming your suspicions — she didn't think you care about her, not after the things you'd said.

All the witches in her life had ended up betraying her, turning their backs on her, abandoning her. It was only natural that you would do the same.

It was only life.

She didn't know anything different, anything better.

And you, the asshole that you were, had poured salt over the wound.

You'd told her she'd deserved it.

"It's okay," you said softly, caressing her hands. Letting her know that she was safe, that the danger had passed. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

But you had, hadn't you? You'd promised you would never, but you'd done what everyone else had. You'd turned your back on her. You'd spewed the vilest things you could think of, things you didn't even mean, to hurt her, all because you were hurt and had wanted her to feel the same — had wanted her to feel worse. You'd thrown her mistakes in her face, and had left her. You'd never looked back. And, no matter how much the guilt was eating you up, niggling at your insides like acid, you didn't have the nerve to apologize, to make it right.

You were no better than her coven. Than her bitch of a mother.

Agatha nodded, then lowered her eyes to her lap, to her dirty, bloodied clothes. Everywhere and anywhere but your face.

She might as well have slapped you.

Not that you wouldn't have deserved it.

"Who did this to you?" you asked, trying your hardest to hold back an explosion that threatened to erupt inside you.

You couldn't hurt yourself, not much more than you already have, but you could make sure that the one who'd done this to her paid with their life.

They'd been living on borrowed time since the second they'd decided to lay their hands on her.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Hunters." She spit the word like it was poison, like the mere act of saying it befouled her mouth. "They injected me with something that's been blocking my power."

You raised an eyebrow, confused. "A drug of some sort?"

"Try potion."

Now that was interesting. "They're working with a witch?"

Agatha nodded. "A powerful one. It's been two days, and this thing's still alive and kicking."

"Two days?"

They'd had her for two days?

They'd been hitting her, beating her, torturing her for two days?

A few tears escaped your containment, your cheeks burning in their wake.

"Oh, please, it's nothing I can't take. I could go for two more weeks," Agatha said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. Acting as if what she'd gone through didn't bother her a single bit.

You knew better.

That smile on her mouth was the same one she always hid behind. The one she used when she wanted to hide the pain, the turmoil, despite knowing damn well it didn't fool you. It never did.

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry," you said, on the brink of falling apart.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

That was the problem.

You didn't do anything.

She was tortured for two days, and you were none the wiser.

"I should've been there."

You would have burned those monsters alive. You would've made them beg for mercy, given them hope that it would come, and then you would've taken it away at the last minute. You would've made the punishment fit the crime.

You would do it.

They had no idea what was coming to them.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Save your pity."

"It's not pity, and you know it," you told her in your most earnest tone. She had no reason to believe you — you'd certainly given her plenty of reasons not to — but you hoped she would find it in her heart to look past that. To give you the smallest benefit of the doubt, a chance to make what you broke whole again.

"Isn't it?" It was her turn to twist the knife, and she knew how to make it hurt without trying too hard.

You deserved it.

As much as it hurt, as much as it bruised and broke you, you had every word of doubt coming.

You swallowed a hard lump in your throat, welcoming the pain. Accepting it as penance. "No."

Standing up on shaky legs, you walked to the adjoining kitchen and started rummaging through cupboards in search of supplies. You didn't have a first aid kit, so a makeshift one would have to do. Some old bandages, a rag, a bowl of warm water. Simple, yet efficient.

Agatha could think what she wanted — she could think the worst of you, and she certainly had that right — but you would still help her. You would still do your best for her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting supplies," you said, picking up the softest rag you had. "We need to get you cleaned up."

A moment of tense silence passed. "I can do it myself."

You looked her in the eyes like you always did when she was being difficult. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she said stubbornly.

If she didn't, she wouldn't have shown up at your door and begged to be let in. She wouldn't have let you hold her hands.

"Agatha," you said with a sigh. Don't do this, you thought. Don't play these games. Not now.

"You don't have to pretend you want me here. I'm only here because I had nowhere else to go," she reiterated.

"I'm not pretending."

"Aren't you? You made it pretty clear you didn't wanna look at me." Her eyes, so blue and sad, filled with tears. Her injured lips trembled. "I'm selfish, remember? I never loved you. I'm not trustworthy. I deserve everything that's ever happened to me. I deserve this."

"No. No, you don't."

But you did. You deserved to have your words thrown back at you. You deserved every jab, every painful poke.

You laid the bowl on the coffee table and sat back down by Agatha's side. "I know I'll never be able to take back all those horrible things I said. For what it's worth, I didn't mean any of it."

"Why'd you say it, then?" Agatha asked pointedly. No pleasantries. No nonsense.

"Because I was pissed, and I wanted to hurt you." It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud, but you owed it to her to be honest. She deserved to know the truth. "All this time, I've been trying to think of ways to apologize. Nothing seemed good enough. You deserve better, and I just couldn't give it to you. So, I left you alone."

You reached for her hand. Momentary relief flooded your veins as she allowed you to twine your fingers with hers. This time she welcomed your touch. Welcomed you.

"I really am sorry," you said. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't. I just ask that you let me try to make up for it."

Agatha swallowed. Her eyes fell to your linked hands. You thought she would push you away. That she would tell you where you can shove your apology. That she would tell you that it was too late — she didn't love you anymore. That she wanted nothing to do with you.

Instead, her fingers squeezed yours.

A tiny, silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could.

She hadn't given up on you.

She was willing to give you a chance.

She still loved you.

Just like that, a spark lit up inside you. A sliver of hope, tiny but still there, bright in the turmoil of your mind.

It was more than you could have asked for.

You promised to yourself — to Agatha — that you wouldn't squander it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

[theactualsunshinechild]

Seeing this post always immediately reminds me of a fun story from early on in my relationship that my partner and I affectionately refer to as

The Can Opener Incident

This was back in my college days. That semester I was living in a dorm that was more like a collection of small apartments on the very fringes of campus territory. My partner had come over to spend the night at my dormroom, and we were going about making some pasta in the little kitchenette. The pasta was already fully cooked and strained when we suddenly encountered a problem:

The canned pasta sauce I had bought was not a pop top, and rummaging around the kitchen for a can opener revealed that I had neglected to bring one.

Not one to settle for miserable, dry pasta on a cozy home date, I ran over to the dorm room next door and asked to borrow a can opener. They're a little startled to find someone knocking on their door at 9 PM, but they let me borrow it with no resistance. Upon bringing it back is when the problems truly began.

You see, all of my life I had used a can opener which you latched to the side of the can and twisted the knob to make the sharp ring cut into the top of the can vertically, parallel to the side of the can. This one looked similar, all the right parts were in the right places, so I gave it a shot... but nothing happened. My partner comes up and tells me I'm using it wrong, and I think to myself "oh, okay, so maybe he's used this kind of can opener before, I'll let him at it," and I hand it off to him.

The can opener my partner has used his whole life is the kind that you latch on to the TOP of the can, so instead of holding the handle at the side, you're holding it horizontally over the top of the can. I didn't know that kind of can opener even existed, so when he tried using this one his way, I looked at him like he was insane. This look quickly intensified as this method also didn't work. Things rapidly went downhill from there. He defensively explained the way his can opener at home worked, and I started pointing to the structure of the can opener and arguing why this one wouldn't work that way. We're a little frustrated, but it's nothing some pasta can't fix, so I propose I simply go over next door to the people who I borrowed the can opener from and ask them how to use it.

As I reached over to take it from him, he held it out of my reach.

"No! I'll figure it out myself!" He announced.

"What? Why? It's easier to just ask the owner," I argue, jumping around trying to get at the items.

"Because I can figure it out!"

Okay. Fine. I guess he wants to solve this like some kind of puzzle for enrichment. I give up and I wait. The fiddling begins. I'm standing there watching him try increasingly improbable methods of getting that thing to work over and over. The pasta is getting cold. He's testing methods that have already proven not to work, trying new methods that physically couldn't work, then trying the ones that have already failed us all over again. My stomach growls.

"We should really just ask," I grumble, hungry and frustrated.

"No, I've got this."

He does not fucking got this. I want my goddamn food and I do not have time for this puzzle solving.

"Give it here."

"No."

"I'm just gonna take it to the owners and ask them to show us how to use it, you can come with."

"No! I want to figure out out myself!!"

"And I want my food god fucking damn it!!"

This went on for a bit. The pasta was drying to the side of the pot and getting crusty. At some point during this yelling match I got so pissed off that I stormed out of my own apartment into the cold with no coat on.

'I need to make him see reason!' I thought to myself, making my way through the snow. One building over was where two of his friends were rooming together. I knock on their door, boiling with rage. It is 10 PM.

"Hey, can you come over? [Partner] is being completely unreasonable and obstinate over figuring out how a can opener we borrowed works and won't let me take it to the owner to ask. Please help me convince him to hand it over, I'm literally too short to wrestle it from him."

"Alright, let me grab my coat."

We head back over to my place to find my partner Still Messing Around with that godforsaken can opener.

"Let me see that for a second," says his friend, taking his coat off. I experienced a moment of relief, thinking to myself, 'Finally!' as my partner pouted for a second, but relinquished the can opener.

This peaceful glorious relief fizzled out into horror as his friend began to try to open the can the same way I had.

"That's weird. It really looks like it should work this way..." he mutters.

"Try it from the top, that's how my parents' works," my partner suggests.

"No no, that won't work, just give me a second to figure it out."

Oh my fucking god.

I stared blankly, watching them study the can opener and turn the can this way and that, both completely absorbed in finding the solution to this hour long problem. I was going to lose my fucking mind. Perhaps in that moment I really did. Shellshocked, I stood, wondering how it had come to this. I just wanted some fucking pasta and a relaxed night in, and instead I've gotten these goddamn STEM majors milling around in my kitchen at 10:25 PM arguing over how to use a can opener that isn't even mine. So I went and did what, in retrospect, I should have done ages ago: I went next door for help.

I can't imagine what my neighbor must have thought of me, showing up over an hour after borrowing their can opener, looking as if something inside of me had died, and, with a hint of desperation in my eyes, begging them tearfully to come next door and show us all how to use their can opener. Over an hour after borrowing it.

Well, whatever they thought of it all, they did oblige my pleas. Their arrival thankfully broke up the debate, and as all three of us watched intently as hawks over their shoulder, they cracked open that can of pasta for us.

Using it the exact same way I had tried at the start of it all.

It was just dull.

"I don't need a shopping list; with effort, I will remember that I need this item"

Okay but will you be able to remember that you already bought it? Because apparently I can't.

[emchante]

heavily thinking about divorced dad!Daniel and his little daughter coming up to him and asking "daddy, can I color in your tattoos?" and this man happily rolls up his sleeve and lets his little girl get to work <33

~🫠

🫠 NONNIE!! every idea you deliver to me i love, fluff, smut or angst— you’re always on a roll. this is actually the cutest thing ever??

drabble below as per! <3

often times when you were over at daniel’s house, you weren’t really there for him. or well— just him. you went around to look after his kids a lot in the beginning, but as your relationship built with daniel, it built with his kids too. they wanted to see you more, spend more time with you and didn’t view you as just ‘the neighbour’ anymore. you were becoming something more to them, and everyone loved it.

that’s how you ended up where you currently were. sat at the dining table with daniel’s daughter, both with a colouring book in front of you and pens scattered around.

she was colouring in a lion currently, because it ‘reminded her of uncle maxy!’ who you had heard a little about. it was cute nonetheless, that she associated animals with her favourite people.

you were colouring in a tiger in your own book. her brother loved tigers, so you wanted to do a little something for him, seeing as you were already spending lots of time with his sister in creating it. you tried your best to be equal with them.

the atmosphere was cozy, the natural light shining through the thin curtains and onto the table, as if showcasing your colouring to the world. daniel’s daughter was talking away to you, going from topic to topic within minutes. like father like daughter, you supposed.

speaking of the devil, daniel appears behind you both and leans over the table. his daughter only notices him when a big shadow overtakes her on the table, causing her to gasp and turn around. upon seeing it was daniel, she squealed with excitement and made grabby hands to daniel.

daniel obliged, lifting her up and blowing a raspberry into her neck, which made giggles erupt from her little figure. “hello honey, what’re you doing?” he asked her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

she explained that you and her were colouring in, having some ‘girl time’, as she called it. you and daniel both laughed at it, before daniel asked what she was colouring.

“is it.. a giraffe?” “don’t be silly, daddy! it’s a lion.. like uncle maxy!!” she exclaimed, and you watched daniel’s face light up at the mention of uncle maxy.

“it sure is! i’m sure he’d love to see this next time he visits,” daniel nodded, before placing her back down on her seat. he peers over to your book, making a face.

“hmm.. i’ve seen better,” he shrugs with closed eyes, before opening one to peek and see your reaction. you don’t give him much, whacking his waist gently as he yelped, causing his daughter to giggle.

daniel had pulled a chair out from next to you, and moved it so he was now in the middle of you both. “perfect, between my girls,” was his reasoning, and you felt the blush coating your cheeks at it.

you and daniel were chatting away with one another when you were interrupted by a sudden gasp. you both turn to his daughter, worry etched into your expressions incase something had happened.

“what’s up, honey?” daniel asks, pulling her closer into him and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. the genuine worry and glint of fear in his eyes warms your heart a little. yes— maybe not at the best of times— but the fact he’s evidently so caring about his kids. it was one of his most attractive qualities.

“daddy, your tattoos!” she shouted, making daniel raise a brow and tilt his head to the side, beckoning her to continue. “they’re like pictures, like my book! can i.. can i colour them in?” she continues, suddenly turning a little shyer towards the end when she had to ask the question.

your eyes trail to daniel, and you watch as his signature grin makes it’s way onto his face, eyes crinkling as the crow’s feet appeared. “of course you can! how about.. this one?” daniel offers, moving so his astronaut tattoo was in eye-view of her. she squealed with excitement, clapping her hands before she picked up her pens and got to colouring.

you watched on fondly as she scribbled into daniel’s arm, doing her best to stay within the lines of the tattoo. her little tongue was stuck out in concentration, and you tried not to laugh when she had a serious thinking expression as she decided which colours to use.

you continued to chat with daniel, both of you checking in on her newest work of art as you spoke. you were once again interrupted by her gasp, but this time you both knew it wasn’t anything bad, and just a sudden thought that popped into her mind.

“you should colour one too!” she squealed, pointing to you before pointing back to daniel, a huge smile on her little face. how could you ever deny that offer?

“okay okay, i’ll join you,” you smile, and she giggles with excitement which makes your heart melt at the sound. “but,” you start, causing her to stop and stare at you with ‘o’ shaped lips, “which tattoo do i colour?”

once again returned the thinking face, but daniel was quicker than her— surprisingly. “actually, i have an idea,” he spoke up, making you both look at him with curiosity.

he spread his right leg out, his tattoo being revealed as his slutty shorts rode further up his thigh. the tattoo was magnificent, truly a work of art with how many pieces were in it. but, you knew what daniel was doing.

“now these might be partially coloured, but i would love for you to finish them off with your own little touch,” he started, batting those long eyelashes and staring at you with those big doe eyes. “maybe.. sit on the floor for it though? wouldn’t want you hurting your back, sweetheart.”

you almost called out his teasing behaviour, but his innocent daughter shouted “yeah!!” and oh.. how could you deny her..

so, here you were. sitting on the ground, colouring in parts of daniel’s intricate thigh tattoo, as his daughter coloured in the next tattoo on daniel’s arm— skull baby.

you couldn’t even be mad, it was a domestic moment between you all and you’d give anything in the world to have it happen more often.

NONNIEEE i loved writing this so much, it was the cutest thing ever!! hope you guys enjoy your fix of fluffy divorced dad! daniel<3<3

[gravestrain]

gave you too much but it wasn't enough (qh43)

In which you wonder if your relationship with Quinn might end in death by a thousand cuts.

This is my submission for the eras tour fic challenge hosted by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy! I am thrilled to be a part of this event. I received DBATC, and if you know me you know any kind of angst is not my wheelhouse, but I was thrilled to get this challenge and try to create something angsty. It will never be unresolved in my world but hopefully this does the trick :) 2.5k words, fem reader, no warnings that I know of, not proofread.

When Quinn was named the captain of the Vancouver Canucks, you had never felt so proud.

Being with Quinn for two plus years at the time, you were over the moon to see the love of your life, your favorite person in the world, being given such an honor, an honor he worked so hard for, an honor you know he deserved. Quinn was one of the most dedicated people you've ever met. With that dedication of course, comes time. Quinn dedicated countless hours to improving his game, practicing with his teammates, working out in the gym, going on runs, anything he could do to be the best he could be, he was doing it.

Under the moonlight, as you and Quinn celebrated his accomplishment, he promised you that he wouldn't stray away. That his commitment to the team wouldn't outweigh his commitment to you. To being a loving partner. A companion. However, when you woke up, stretching your arm out to feel an empty bed yet again, despite knowing that it couldn't have been much past 7 am, you wondered what went wrong. What happened to cause those promises to crumble. His words to be empty, lifeless. Void of meaning. When did you and Quinn become a couple that told each other lies? Told each other things just because the other person wanted to hear them, not because they genuinely intended to fulfill them.

It was the start of Quinn's second season as the Canucks captain. At first, you thought it was too good to be true. Quinn was thriving in his new role, yet still being the perfect partner. Attentive and on time, compassionate and loving. Now, that version of Quinn is a distant memory, mocking you as you think of him.

It started after the holidays in Quinn's first season of being captain. You chalked it up to post holiday stress and all star weekend buzz, maybe even trade deadline drama. Then the all star game passed, and even the trade deadline. Shortly after you started blaming it on the playoff push, then the playoff loss. And now here you were in November, searching for answers, trying to figure out what happened to the love of your life who turned into a stranger right in front of your own eyes, with nothing you could do about it but watch it happen.

You got yourself ready for work, looking around in the bathroom, on the bedside table, and eventually the kitchen to see if maybe Quinn left you a note, a cup of coffee in your favorite travel mug, a bagel from your favorite bakery around the corner, a sign of his love, signs that he used to never leave the house without showing. Just as you thought, there was nothing. You couldn't even remember the last time you felt Quinn kiss your forehead before he left for God knows what. Another workout, another two mile run after the three miles he did on the treadmill, or locking himself in his office watching film.

Work came and went that day, taking the long way home, dreading going home to an empty house. You thought it would be worse trying to interact with the stranger you lived with, but the silence, the emptiness, the sterile, unwelcoming cold was always worse. You stared up at the traffic lights, wondering if others saw just how foolish you felt. Writing lines to a story that was long over. Grasping on to the book, hoping for a surprise ending, one that would make everything worth it.

To say you were surprised to see Quinn's Porsche in the driveway was an understatement. Usually on practice days he didn't get home until well after 6 pm. You unlocked the front door, not expecting much. Just because he was home, doesn't mean he wasn't locked up in his office, taking notes from last night's game. A game that you never bothered to go to anymore. You knew the other WAGs missed you, people speculated about your absence on the internet, always cruel and judgmental. You couldn't bring yourself to go. You had learned to despise hockey for taking Quinn from you.

You opened the door and were surprised to see Quinn in the kitchen, grabbing a snack. Quinn looked as surprised to see you as you were, almost like he didn't know where you were, or if he even remembered that you lived there. Quiet "hi's" were exchanged, Quinn leaving a soft kiss on your cheek then awkwardly brushing past you to go towards the fridge.

"I thought we could have chicken and pasta for dinner tonight. It sounded good on my way home, I hope that's okay," Quinn muttered out, but already getting a pot of water for pasta ready, as though it didn't matter what you truly wanted. "That's okay," you offered back. "I'm gonna go sit down and read my book. If you need me, just holler." You offered and Quinn gave a nod in response. You wanted to grunt and groan under your breath. How could this be okay with him? It was as though you didn't know him, despite him knowing everything about you.

You tried to distract yourself with your book, but frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped them away aggressively, not wanting Quinn to see you cry. He couldn't muster up simple greetings, and an I love you would be almost toxic coming out of his mouth. He didn't care anymore, that much was obvious. So why should you?

You didn't know how long time passed, but it was enough time for Quinn to come over with a plate of dinner, unaware of your state. Your heart swelled. Most days, you had been eating dinner at the table, the memories of the two of you loved up on the couch, enjoying your meal and watching your latest binge watch were long gone. It seemed that Quinn was looking for one of those nights, until he saw your tears. His face dropped, setting your plate down and kneeling in front of you.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" He asked, trying to get you to meet his eyes. You shook your head. How could he be so oblivious? "Are you serious?" You ask and Quinn's expression changed, like you had hurt him. "What do you mean by that? Why would I not be serious?" he asked, causing you to shake your head. "Quinn, things haven't been right between us for months. You leave me everyday without saying goodbye or even kissing me goodbye, you act like spending time with me is the worst thing in the world. I never go to games anymore because I resent hockey for taking you from me. When you were named captain, I was so proud of you I could explode. Now I can't even bare to be in the hockey setting because it reminds me of everything you chose over me. Quinn, I don't even know if you love me anymore." You took a breath after getting it off your chest, but at the same time a wounded gasp came out of Quinn's mouth, like he was a wounded animal.

"You think I don't love you anymore? How could you think that?" he asked, clearly hurt by what you had said. "What else do you want me to believe, Quinn? I can't even remember the last time you told me you loved me. And beyond that, that you ever even showed that you might. I feel like I live with a stranger. You can't honestly tell me that you have felt satisfied in this relationship. That you feel that we love each other to the fullest, that we love spending time together. I haven't felt confident that you feel that way in a long time." At this point you both had tears in your eyes, Quinn feeling devastated by what he was hearing.

Of course Quinn wasn't 100% satisfied with your relationship. He wasn't delusional enough to believe that everything was perfect. He knew that hockey had been his number one priority lately, and he had been trying to make that not be the case.

"Baby, I know I haven't been putting you first lately, and I'm sorry for that. I truly am. But I feel like it's only been this way since the start of the regular season." This had you scoffing immediately. "You don't seriously believe that. Quinn, I could say I have felt this way on and off since January." This caused another hurt gasp to leave Quinn's lips. "Why didn't you say something..." he trailed off, hurt, but he knew the answer.

"I shouldn't have to beg you to love me, Quinn. I shouldn't have to tell you that you have been neglecting me, neglecting us. If you truly can't see what's been going on, I don't know how I can explain it to you. If you think that this relationship has been satisfactory for both parties, I can't change your mind of that. But I won't be treated like this any longer. I think we should spend some time apart." Quinn backed up as soon as the suggestion came out of your mouth, looking like he had been shot.

"You don't mean that, you can't" he gasped. "Quinn, I'm not saying I want to breakup. If I didn't believe this was salvageable, if I didn't believe you could fix this, I would just say I wanted to break up. I believe we can fix this, but I think some time apart would do us good. For us both to figure out what we're looking for and what we truly want. If we find that this is still what we want, that's great, I believe that we will make it work. But this, this... arrangement, this isn't working. I know you seem shocked and hurt, but I know you don't believe that this is working for both of us, or honestly either of us."

"I'll go stay with Petey, I don't want to be in your way," Quinn suggested and you shook your head. "It's okay, really. I can go stay with Brock's girlfriend. Since she lives by herself it won't be awkward for any of us. I do believe we can make this work Quinn, I just don't think we can do it in these conditions." You put your hand on his cheek and his face softened, leaning into your touch.

"Tell me how to fix it, please, I'll do anything," he begged, tears steadily streaming down his face. "I can't tell you that, Quinn. I want you to figure out. To understand where I'm coming from, and want to work to fix it. I haven't been perfect either Quinn, we can both work on this. I shouldn't have to tell you that spending time together once a month isn't enough. I don't know how it can be enough for you, either. If that's okay with you, then this just isn't going to work."

"I'll fix it baby, I promise, I'll do anything." he whispered, almost defeatedly but feeling much better. "I believe you, baby. I do."

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

The flowers started on Mondays. Each Monday, a different bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers arrived at your office. The message was also different each week but it always ended the same way: " I love you, I believe in us." You texted Quinn every week when the flowers came to let him know you got them and to send your thanks. After four weeks of flowers, you were sitting in the front room of Brock's girlfriend, Bella's, apartment, getting stuff done on your computer on a chilly Saturday afternoon. A knock on the door sounded, causing you to pause your work. You had been staying with Bella long enough that you felt comfortable getting the door. Not to mention Bella liked to sleep in super late on weekends, meaning you would be the only one to even be available to open the door.

Your heart sank to your toes as you looked through the peephole, seeing Quinn. He looked different. If your gut was right, he looked tired, a far away look in his eyes, almost as though he missed you as much as you missed him. You didn't want to believe it, wary of getting your heart broken. He was holding something in his hands, fidgeting with it as he waited for the door to open.

"Y/N, hi," Quinn whispered out, taking a step towards you. "Hi Quinn, it's great to see you. How have you been? Would you like to come inside?" You asked, causing him to shake his head. "I can't stay, but thank you for offering," he stopped himself, wanting to keep boundaries in between you two in order for you to be most comfortable.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, and I wanted to come ask you something. I was hoping you'd like to come to the game tomorrow night? I was hoping this would be enough time, but if not it's okay." His voice was shaky, unsure, almost like he was scared of your response. "I'm not sure, Quinn. Won't it be weird that I'm there? I don't want to cause any drama." You said apprehensively. You were also nervous of what that step in your relationship would be.

"There would be no drama at all, babe. You could just sit with Bell in the stands if you would prefer that, but I know the WAGs have really been missing you. I heard Millsy's daughters have been waiting for you to paint their nails on intermission again," he joked, causing you to smile. His heart melted at the smile on your face, finally feeling fulfilled, that he made you happy.

"I'll be there, Quinn. You can put me in the box. Don't worry about parking, though. I'm sure I can catch a ride with Bella." You both smiled, joyful at the step in the right direction for the both of you. "I can't wait."

________________

For all the time you had spent at Canucks games, you never thought you would be so nervous about what to wear, but here you are. Finally, settling on a stylish Canucks long sleeve with no distinction of Quinn on the shirt, paired with dark jeans and sneakers.

Quinn played a great game, getting a goal and an assist, the Canucks winning 3-1. You were ecstatic. Being back at the games, with your friends, cheering on Quinn, just felt right. It felt like where you were supposed to be. When you met Quinn after the game, he couldn't help himself either, jogging up to you and wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up off the ground. "Quinn!" you exclaimed, laughing out loud. "You did so good!" You laughed as he set you back on the ground. "It's because you were here, my good luck charm." He mused, causing you to blush.

Before he could stop himself, Quinn asked: "come home with me?" Your breath shortened, definitely not expecting that to come out of his mouth. "Are you sure?" You asked him, heart racing at the idea of going home with Quinn, truly where you belonged. "I would want nothing more."

It felt at times that no matter how much you gave to Quinn, it would never be enough. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves, you both knew that all you could give would always be enough for the both of you.

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

❃ FLUFFCEMBER 2024 ❃

day 01: holiday decorations — lewis hamilton x reader

song rec: my kind of woman - mac demarco

“as long as you’re next to me, just the two of us”

fluffcember masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Lewis had decided to spend the Holidays at your place, and you couldn’t wait for him to be finished with the season and come over! You knew how much this year had drained him and you really wanted everything to be perfect for the cozy relaxing time you will spend together. Also, your family would be joining you two for Christmas, so the decorations must be absolutely flawless!

Except… your boss asked you to work some more days before vacation. He was a very kind person and needed help, so you didn’t have the heart to say no. And when you came back home, the day before Lewis’ arrival, you were so exhausted that you fell asleep instantly and forgot about the decorations.

The next day, when Lewis ringed your doorbell, you were so worried he wouldn’t like your bare house. You opened the door and closed it behind him. “Hi.” He looked absolutely handsome, as always.

“Hello, my love.” He let his luggages down and hugged you tightly. “Oh, you have no idea how happy I am to be here.” He caressed your cheek and softly kissed you on the lips. Lewis’ smile faded when he saw your sad face. “Hey, what happened?”

“I’m sorry you have to see the house like this.” You lowered your gaze, a bit embarrassed.

He looked around, frowning confused. “What’s wrong with the house?”

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’? There are no decorations! I know you had a rough time this season and I wanted you to find everything decorated for Christmas, but I had to work till late these days and…” you sighed “It’s the most boring house ever!”

He smiled, a bit amused by your reaction, his hands still holding your face. “Who cares? You’re here, it could never be boring.” His brown bambi eyes searched for yours.

You hugged him again, nuzzling your face against his strong chest. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He placed another kiss on your forehead. “You know what? We’ll do the decorations together. It will be even more fun!”

You nodded, finally smiling.

You helped him unpack his things and order them in the closet, all tidy as he liked. Then you two picked up the decoration from your garage and put on some Christmas music. Suddenly his presence made you feel happy again. You started with the three. It took you a lot to put all the baubles, Lewis following your orders without a single disagreement. He almost ended up tangled in the colorful lights and you laughed at him. Oops. Then it was time to decorate the rest of the house. In between one decoration and another, he took your hand in his to make you swing to the rhythm of music.

“Here.” He said, wrapping you around in a fluffy golden tinsel.

“Lewis!” You protested, chuckling, trying to get it off yourself.

“Bet your family will love it.” He joked.

By evening, you both were tired, but happy with how the house turned out, very warm and cozy. After dinner and a hot cup of camomile, you curled up together in the bed, under the fresh sheets. “Thank you, Lew.”

“Don’t. It was the best day I had in a while.” He kissed you on the nose. “You make me happy.”

[sageworld]

if ur doing req for other players not just paige fans u do the nsfw alphabet but for kk? also congrats on the lesbianism 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

NSFW alphabet • KK Arnold

A • Aftercare

okay so boom, after sex is a lot of small talk, about each others days, how basketballs going for her, how schools going for you. even when you’re super sleepy, falling asleep mid sentence if kks not ready for sleep yet she’ll try and get you to keep talking to her.

B • Body part

YOUR THIGHS, kk is obsessed with them. grabbing one while she drives, rubbing on them while she eats you out, leaving hickies all on them, she can’t get enough.

C • Cum

she prefers cumming in your mouth more than your fingers, thigh, strap or pussy. she loves grabbing on your hair when she’s cumming. same in turn, she loves you cumming in her mouth, dripping all over her face.

D • Dirty secret

okay this isn’t even a secret but kk is so baby. she loves being topped by you, she’s bottom 95% of the time, even when she’s using strap on you, you’ll be riding her and she’s fucking whimper listening to you praise her.

“feels so fuck good baby, you make me feel so good kk.” you moan out, squeezing her tits from above as you ride her strap like no tomorrow. “oh my god kk, i’m gonna cum.” and she’s just a whimpering, moaning, stuttering mess while holding your hips

E • Experience

kks been with her fair share of girls before, she’s had her one nights, serious relationship or two, she knows what she’s doing & even if it’s your first wlw relationship she’s more than willing to help you learn.

F • Favorite position

she’s a ✂️ lover through and through, she likes being on top with this though. she loves watching your smaller body fall apart under her and being able to control the pace.

G • Goofy

pleaseeee this girl is hilarious, if you wanna top her when she wants to top you or vice versa she will straight up “girl boom” you and just start doing whatever she wants, (with consent ofc) making you giggle the whole way through with random little meme references.

“kk you got cum on my dress.” you whined, you guys decided on a quickie before leaving to meet up with friends at the bar, we’ll kk insisted she needed an orgasm or she would be nagging you all night to leave early. “shhh, it’s okay baby girl no one has to know.” she giggles, caressing your face from in between her thighs.

H • Hair

like i said on the paige alphabet, WE DO NOT CARE :P

I • Intimacy

while she can be serious there’s times where she locks in, whispering how much she loves you & couldn’t imagine her life with out you all while your in between her legs, a face full of pussy. she’s be playing with your hair, legs shaking, eyes slammed up with her head thrown back speaking about you like some type of goddess before crumbling apart to your tongue.

J • Jack off

she gets really shy about it but she does it often during her time away, often asking you for a picture of video when she’s gone.

New Message:

Kk<3; baby i know it’s really late for you but i need something.

you already know what she’s referring too, this falling into your regular schedule when she’s gone, you’re surprised she didn’t text sooner actually.

you; give me one second pooks

kk<3; i’ve been thinking about you all day baby, i’m so wet rn.

her words make you shiver, thinking about your poor baby having to take care of herself.

you; i wish you were here baby.

*1 attachment image

K • kink

def has a marking kink, loves seeing you covered in her hickeys, clothes, fuck it shes even gonna put her bonnet on you. she just loves letting others know your hers.

L • location

she loves your room, it’s so cozy and always smells so good. your pillows feel so soft under her head when you ride her strap & your blankets are so warm when you’re all done, naked and wrapped up in them.

M • motivation

one thing that gets her going like nothing else is seeing you in your momo, she loves your granny gowns, the sight of your perky nipples under the fabric knowing all that’s under is a dainty pair of panties.

N • no

you’re not strapping her up, simple as day. she is a bottom but it’s just not for her. she doesn’t like the feeling of it.

O • oral

she’s such a giver, but loves both. the feeling of your nose rubbing against her puffy clit while your tongue fucks her hole has her on a different planet. feeling your squirt fall down her chin? she’s in heaven.

P • pace

when Kk isn’t bottom, she’s fucking the shit out of you, rough and demanding. it’s usually like that when she’s jealous or had a bad day. when she’s bottom it’s slow and sensual, loving and tender.

Q • quickie

she loves them! they help her get through her day. she loves them anywhere, the car, your room, her room, at the bathroom in a party. she can get so needy at any time and just needs it out of her system.

R • risk

while she’s willing to do it just about anywhere somewhat out of view, she does get nervous and prefers doing it in the comfort of privacy. the riskiest you guys ever did was in a target parking lot at night when she ran out of tru fru.

S • stamina

this girl is fucking all night. when she has time she won’t stop. your pussy will be puffy and abused & she won’t stop until you start showing signs of discomfort.

“you alright, mama?” she comes up from between your legs, tears running down your face just seconds ago you crying for her to stop. “s’just too much.” you breath. “oh, im sorry baby.” she puts her face in your neck. “let me clean you up.” she rolls out the bed, going to grab a towel.

T • toy

you guys love your toys!! her favorite to use on you is a strap that has a vibrator for her attached. your favorite to use on her is a small blue vibrator, she doesn’t like anything in her but your fingers and tongue so she always reacts so pretty to it.

U • unfair

when it’s top!kk it’s so different. she’s mean and rough. she’ll edge you for what feels like hours.

“why dont you have your other girlfriend make you cum?” she hovered over your body, three fingers deep in you. “she’s not my girlfriend kk, only you i promise.” it had been at least 30 minutes since you first felt the tightening in your tummy, kks touch was gone as quick as it came. “i don’t know, seemed like it.” she pulled her fingers out, denying your release once again. “kk, please baby.” you whine. “i’ll think about it.” fingers ghosting your clit.

V • volume

she’s so loud, so vocal. she’s not afraid to voice what she wants either which you always appreciated. sometimes when you guys are playing rock paper scissors you find yourself having to cover her mouth because it’s so late and you don’t wanna wake your neighbors.

W • wild card

when you met kk, you guys were one night standing after a sigma kai party but, when you woke up in her bed and tried to sneak out she woke up. offering you a shower, some clothes that weren’t your micro dress and heels and some breakfast in exchange for your number.

X • x-ray

coochie meow meow 😸

Y • yearning

she’s so needy, she always wants you. it can be more than just sexually, she loves skin to skin, the feeling of having you so close always itches that special part in her brain

Z • zzz (sleepy)

yeah no, like in the start she does not wanna go to sleep. she tries to get you to stay up with her and talk. on the rare occasion she is sleepy, she’s fighting it, mumbling out random things to you before eventually falling asleep.

[dsudis]

Baking Day (Dragon!Dream/Hob, baking)

Written for @sdbingo for the "Baking" square, which obviously cried out for a dragon AU?

Hob awoke that morning, as he did every morning now, as warm and comfortable as any prince could be in a palace. He smiled to himself and cuddled closer to the warmth given off by the great black dragon Dream, of the Endless line of dragons.

Dream was sufficiently ancient and powerful that he could take other shapes as he chose, including the lordly human form in which Hob had first encountered him. Hob had been in the midst of proclaiming to his friends that sacrificing to the ancient dragons was stupid, and everyone only went along with it because they always had. He would never give tribute nor be sacrificed, he had decided.

He and Dream still debated, occasionally, whether Hob had kept to his decision in the end, after Dream had demanded him and Hob had been delivered to him. Hob would point out that he had neither willingly given up any tribute nor—as he was still alive and looked fair to stay so for a very long time—been sacrificed.

Dream took the view that since he was the dragon in question and had gotten all he wanted from Hob, tribute and sacrifice both could be taken as read—however happily given they had been in the end.

It was a stupid argument, and Hob looked forward to continuing to have it over and over for the next thousand years or so, as the powerful magic which protected Dream's hoard extended to the living beings the dragon counted as his own, and made them nearly as immortal as the dragon himself.

Unfortunately there were some necessities even a dragon's magic could do nothing about; Hob still had to get out of his fine cozy bed and go take a piss in the morning. He stretched and squirmed, considering whether he could steal a little more sleep before he did anything so drastic. He had the black silken coverlet more or less wrapped around him, an absurdly lofty thing filled with goose down or some such, embroidered with an array of tiny silver stars.

He had gone to sleep under it, sharing it with Dream when they had curled up together, Dream being still in his human form then. Dream claimed that, ancient and powerful being that he was, he had no need for anything so ordinary as a good night's sleep, and indeed that he did not sleep, ever, the way that Hob and the other mortal creatures did.

All the same, they had yet to pass a whole night sharing a bed without Dream somehow losing track of himself sufficiently to revert to his natural dragon form. Luckily he always seemed to instinctively move himself as he changed so that he had never yet crushed the bedstead or damaged any of the bedclothes, though he also never let Hob go too far from him.

This morning, Hob found, when he grudgingly opened an eye to examine the situation, they had ended up beside the bed. Dream's great head actually rested on the mattress, as if it were a nice little bolster pillow for him—and it was about the right size for that, grand as it was for a human bed. The rest of Dream's great body coiled around the bedstead, his tail trailing out the bedchamber door.

Hob himself was cradled upon Dream's great forelimbs, which were folded before his chest—the warmest spot of any to lie against Dream, though no part of him was ever chilly. Hob lay tucked close to Dream's heart, though, hoarded more closely than any of his treasures. Even his great ruby he had set aside for the night; only Hob stayed close to him all night long.

Hob braced a hand against the scales of Dream's neck, and tried to slide away.

Dream huffed sleepily and shifted position, using his neck now to hold Hob in place, turning his head so he could look at Hob with one eye open just a slit to reveal blackness and faint gleaming stars.

"Morning, love," Hob said, converting his push against Dream's neck to a petting motion. "Mind if I get up and tend to a few necessities?"

Dream grumbled, low enough to gently vibrate Hob where he was held so closely; some mornings Hob would quite enjoy that—and would have several ideas for how to continue the play—but this morning it only made him more aware that he really needed to get up and get to the privy.

"No, Dream, I really need to this time," Hob said, keeping his voice gentle but leaving no humor in it to be misinterpreted.

Dream sighed, but lifted his neck and head enough to free Hob, angling the leg he was mostly lying on to give him a gentle step down to the floor. Hob took it, divesting himself of the coverlet as he hurried over to the privy—here in Dream's aerie, it was contained in a little room carved out of the same stone as the main chambers they lived in. Hob wasn't sure whether it was some property of the stone and the way the wind moved among the mountain spires, or a discreet use of magic that made the smell of the room so unobjectionable, but he appreciated it all over again every morning. He washed up in the basin of spelled water—always warm, always perfectly clean—and slipped back out to find Dream again.

His beloved stood by the bed, just settling the coverlet into place over it, his pale-skinned human form wrapped in a black velvet robe. Hob had a matching one in a particular green-brown shade that Dream insisted was especially flattering to him; Hob just knew it was warm and softer than anything he'd ever touched in his old life. He shrugged it on, and Dream was there before he could get it closed to fasten up the ties exactly as he liked them—he had a way of making all the little bows hang prettily that Hob could not possibly imitate.

When that was all taken care of, Dream tilted his head in the way that meant he was presenting himself to be kissed, and Hob duly kissed him, curling a gentle hand around the back of his neck and keeping it mostly sweet. Dream had just made up the bed, after all, and Hob hadn't had his breakfast yet.

He broke off the kiss just as his stomach growled audibly, and Dream's expression shifted rapidly from bereft to stern. "How many times have I told you not to starve yourself?"

"Almost as many times as I've explained that humans just get hungry several times a day," Hob returned, planting one more quick kiss on Dream's lips before stepping around him and heading off to the outer room. This was a space twice the size of any cottage in Hob's village, which contained the larder and a table to sit at while eating, as well as softer chairs and couches for lazing about, which was Dream's preferred activity for most of every day.

Hob fetched himself some cold ham and the last half of a loaf of bread, and Dream followed him to the table with a jug of water and an apricot and a plum—he was very insistent about Hob eating fruit or greens at every meal, and had finally accepted that greens were not to be contemplated before noon.

Dream used a fine little knife with a gold-chased handle to cut the fruit into slices, which he fed to Hob one at a time, lifting each to his lips whenever Hob paused between rather less tidy bites of the ham and bread.

Hob waited until he was nibbling the last crust—and Dream was licking the last of the apricot juice from his fingers—before he said, "Dream, love. Do you know what day it is?"

Dream gave him a baleful look. "Fritterday? Mugsday?"

"I like those," Hob said cheerfully, not allowing himself to be drawn into another discussion of the fact that before Hob's coming Dream had been far too dragonly and superior for such things as days of the week. He had slept through whole seasons—whole years, sometimes, back then, and now that he had Hob to look after he was cruelly compelled to spend some part of every single day awake and moving about. "We should put those on our calendar. But no, it's Tuesday, actually. Do you know what Tuesday is?"

Dream squinted at him suspiciously.

"I'll give you a hint," Hob said, and spread his empty hands. "There's not a bit of bread in the house."

Dream let out a great, aggrieved sigh and then pointed one black-nailed finger at Hob. "You got me out of bed under false pretenses."

"That's right!" Hob said brightly, leaning across the table to give Dream's scowling face a kiss. "It's baking day! Five loaves for me, and cakes for you, and a few batches of seedy rolls..."

"I do not require," Dream informed him stiffly, "cakes."

"Oh, right, must have been me ate all of those, I just forgot," Hob said, standing up to gather up his baking supplies. "I do love cakes. Could you hot up the oven, darling? I thought I'd make a few batches of biscuits to take round to Lucienne and Mervyn and Abel and so on."

"Cain will eat them all," Dream grumbled, but he moved away from the table and went to kneel before the oven. He glanced back to make sure Hob was at a safe distance, and that the larder door was closed and Hob hadn't scooped out any flour yet. Hob raised his spotless hands to show he hadn't; he'd learned that lesson very well when Dream demonstrated why it mattered.

Then Dream turned back to face the big oven and blew into it—not just breath, for despite his present shape he was not just a man. He blew fire, just as his great dragon form could, a tiny white-hot stream that made the air ripple like water all around Dream. Hob could feel the warmth of it even from here, as though he were basking in the summer sun. He smiled fondly while Dream cut off the stream of fire and glowered into the oven.

He breathed a few more little gouts of flame, gave the oven another long careful look, and then gestured Hob to come and join him.

"Be careful," he said as Hob approached. "It is very hot."

Hob didn't bother to point out that he could feel that—it was properly hot standing in front of the open oven door, to the point of being uncomfortable, like standing too close to a bonfire on a hot summer night. He came as he was bidden and stood just behind Dream to peer in, letting Dream quietly fret over the possibility that Hob might reach in and touch the heated oven—as if he would, when he could see every surface of the inside of it glowing with heat.

Never mind the stray little burns he had collected here and there, putting things into the oven or taking them out—they were tiny and did not signify, no matter how Dream fussed over them. Dream had pointed out at great length, the first time, how his own fire would never, never hurt Hob, for it was an extension of himself—but once he used his flame on the stone of the oven, it was simply very hot stone which cared nothing for Hob and would burn him to the bone if it got the chance.

Dream hadn't worked out a way to bake bread (or cakes) without the oven, though, so Hob still got his way every week.

"That looks beautiful," Hob told him, and felt pleased with himself for being able to see the colors it glowed and know what they meant, after months of practice. "That should be ready for the bread by the time it's risen, and then we'll do the cakes and rolls and biscuits."

The whole room was cozily warm, even when Dream shut the oven door on the greatest part of the heat; the bread would rise well, despite the autumn chill of the air outside.

"Right, let's get to work, then," Hob said, and headed for the larder.

"I do not see why I should," Dream muttered behind him, and Hob just smiled and ducked into the larder, hanging his robe up on the hook in there and changing it for a long linen smock—and linen braies for underneath, because he never could feel right about baking with nothing properly covering his privates. Dream joined him a moment later—in his own black linen smock with absolutely nothing underneath, and short enough to show his slightly knobby knees and the hairless length of his shins and ankles, as smooth in skin as in scales.

"Did you miss me so soon?" Hob asked, grinning as he tied off his braies.

Dream didn't deign to answer him, just took the lid off the flour barrel and began scooping flour into the biggest of the wooden bowls. Hob collected the starter, the saltcellar, and the endless jug of tepid water, and followed him back out to the worktable nearest the oven.

Hob set to work making bread dough; Dream helped him with the kneading and did not actually complain about it, though he was unusually quick to notice a raven at the window, and whistled the spell that opened the window to admit her. Jessamy tumbled through accompanied by a welcome gust of cool wind from outside, and lighted daintily on the corner of the table, away from any danger of being splattered with flour.

"What news?" Dream asked, though without slackening the pace of his kneading. His solemn tone contrasted wonderfully with the smear of flour he still hadn't noticed across his cheek. "Is there some matter that requires my attention?"

Hob was sure that Jessamy heard as clearly as he did the hope in Dream's voice, that some crisis in his realm might draw him away from the indignity of bread day.

"Well," Jessamy said. "There could be a requirement. To remind Hob to make plenty of the rolls with seeds."

Dream glared so furiously at Jessamy that a bit of steam escaped his presently human-shaped nose; Hob hid a laugh against his own arm as the bird simply preened and settled herself comfortably on her perch.

"There is also a requirement," Jessamy added. "To keep warm. It gets colder every day out there, you know."

Dream's irritation dropped away immediately into concern. "I did not think the winter troubled you. If it becomes too cold—"

"Tch, no," Jessamy waved her wings dismissively, fearless of Dream as only his ravens were—his ravens and Hob. "There are plenty of warm places to roost among your mountains, boss. Everyone keeps warm, and if we didn't we would tell Lucienne, and she would sort it out."

Dream frowned more pensively now—not angry, but still anxious that he might be somehow neglecting his people. Hob was going to point out to him, eventually, that he was neglecting them a lot less now that he wasn't snoozing his way through whole months and years at a stretch.

He wasn't ever going to tell Dream how many of Dream's subjects had thanked him for keeping Dream from hovering over them day in and day out, as he had used to do at the times when he was awake. Hob was pretty sure between him and Lucienne they were keeping Dream's attention to his people really very reasonable.

Hob had asked Dream once, how he had ended up with so many people living among the Dreaming Spires, which at first glance were a lot of very uninviting spikes of mountains and didn't improve that much on closer inspection, though the rooms carved into them were quite pleasant and cozy. The land was Dream's, and he stored his hoard here and there among the mountains, but it didn't require that much looking after.

"They are mine," Dream had said. "Given to me, or collected by me. For my hoard. If you had not wished so particularly to stay near to me, you would have gone to live among them, as part of the horde."

Except, Hob had realized, he didn't mean horde, like an unruly band of people. He meant hoard, as in a dragon's treasure: all of his people were treasure, to him.

But Hob was the only one who could get him to help make bread, so he wasn't going to quibble about which was the most treasured. He knew very well.

"That's looking properly kneaded," Hob said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's set it to rise, and we can see what's on hand for making cakes. And seed rolls! And look, Jessamy's here to run messages if we're low on honey or sugar or anything else important."

"Hm," Dream said, patting his dough one last time and covering it with a towel. "Yes. We shall need to examine the contents of the larder carefully. Perhaps for some time."

Hob grinned and led the way, giving his hips a little shake just to make Dream press up against his back. Baking day was really the best day.

[This fic is also on Ao3!]

[clubsmarties]

"No one is as interesting as you are," he let out an amused chuckle at that. "Is it really a bother? I see it as a helpful sit and chat, keeps you from boring yourself to death looking at files over and over." He shrugged slightly even though she couldn't see him and smiled. "Yeah, you're right maybe I shouldn't skip leg day so often. But funny coming from the girl who doesn't want to hike up the mountain near my house because of how steep it is." The banter was what kept him entertained and no one did it like Liz did. She kept his mind on its toes and he liked that. "I hate to break it to you again but I'm not interested in meeting someone else. I don't want anyone else. All I want and need is on the other end of this line." He made sure to make it clear otherwise she was liable to think he was talking about someone else. "You think anyone else would match my vibe as well as you do? No ma'am." Wally laughed knowing his slight Louisiana accent came through. "Why are you so insistent on me finding someone else anyway?"

"Still no secret that the CIA and FBI boys don't play well with each other. I'm actually surprised Marson let this happen. He's got FBI in his department. Think he'd be disinfecting that office every time." He laughed and sighed. "Well, if I'm Mulder than you're definitely Sully. So, you'd be getting an invite to your own wedding."

He shook his head and cleared his throat. "No need to thank me. It was easiest the best decision I've made. She likes you and that is more than enough for me to let you dogsit. She's a good judge of character," hearing her low bark made him chuckle telling her what a good girl she was. "She may be a great tour guide. I should look into that. Did she do that nose thing when you guys were out on a walk? When she stands on her hind legs and starts sticking her nose up in the air. That's her trying her tracking skills out. She has only done that twice with me and once with my sisters. Wonder if she did it with you."

The condom method had him in a quick laughing fit as he couldn't get a word out for a second. After that he caught his breath and couldn't help but smile affectionately at her words. "Wise words there. I guess when you put it that way, makes sense. Also makes you sound like a girl scout. Don't tell me you were one before?" He was but it was for a very brief time in his life. It was also where his agent call sign came from. "Hey, but really. I wouldn't let you down. I give you my word if you trust me, no harm will come to you or your legs on adventure week." He wanted to say he was always thinking about her but refrained. "Of course. I mean it is an important case for you so why wouldn't I keep a lookout for anything that could help you."

When she switched to video the last thing he ever expected was to see her in his hoodie. All cozy like. That was a sight that would surely give him nice little dreams. She looked exceptionally beautiful and he had no words to express that. His smile though, did give him away since his eyes gave her the shimmer they did when she amused him. He'd recognize his furball against the sleeve of his hoodie. It had been his favorite one because it gave warmth but now it became his favorite because she wore it.

Locking eyes was like two stars collided with each other and a clusterfuck of lights surrounded them. He smiled softly as he saw her face that he had missed for a few days now. "I agree but I also have to say that her murder is still a novelty to every agency. That and the Black Dahlia. She was a sex symbol and no one wants to let her rest. Most people don't know she was more than the ditzy bombshell she played on screen. But that conversation a lot are not ready for." Hearing her take on ghosts was refreshing, it felt like he was actually getting a look inside her mind. He hummed to show her he was listening and arranged his bottom half to fit under the covers better.

"That's an interesting take. I mean, I know I miss nana so sometimes I can see her in dreams. Sometimes I can hear her laugh in the hallway. No one laughed like she did." Nana wasn't his grandmother, he didn't share any blood with her but she had seen him grow up. Diana's mother was Nana to him and forever would be. He had told Liz about Nana when she had passed so he didn't need to explain it further than that, she'd know who he was talking about. "I believe merpeople exist. Fairies too. It would take someone who has zero creativity to not believe that we weren't the only entities around. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they aren't here. Yeah," he nodded and sighed. "I do believe in ghosts. I don't want to see one but I do believe in them. It'd be hard not to since I know people who have certain gifts. Not a psychic, they're not always real but I do. Just like people out here get jobs to help others. I believe there are a few who are born to help ghosts find their way." His mind going back to Jax and Matt. What Wally believed easily, wasn't the case for his dear friend and brother.

His eyes held the same curiosity they always did when something caught him off guard. Her request wasn't outlandish at all but it still made him chuckle and happily abided. His hand popped up from under the covers and fixed his bang. He tucked it behind his ear and the other side framed his face a little better. "Better?" His hand made a show of his face and smiled showing off his dimple on his cheek. "Might it have something to do with the hair obstructing my eyes?"

He scrolled up on his phone to show his calendar and read through his schedule. "Traveling to Forest City. Sierra County folks are always so welcoming but I'll have to leave the suit behind. I'll get to look like smokey the bear out there. I'm just shadowing tomorrow it seems but still walking a whole hell of a lot. I'm kind of excited to see the giant trees and see what the small town has to offer. May buy the second gift I've gotten for you. Souvenirs and the like. I've seen ten penny makers on my journey so you know Annie is going to be a happy little camper. Got a cool little handkerchief for Dolly. And for you, well that is what you'll see when I get back. What's on the agenda tomorrow for you two girls?" When he looked down he saw Dolly's head resting on her chest and that sight had him silently take a picture.

That earned a well-deserved eye roll but it was quickly gone with a chuckle as she heard his laugh. Listening, she could see the park before her, and gave occasional little sounds of confirmation to let him know that she was paying attention. "Sounds like you've been skipping leg day at the gym. You should start taking longer walks with Dolly. Might meet some more interesting people than me to bother on your days off." It was a small implanted suggestion that she hoped he would take into consideration.

"I know all you boys have your secrets. I know the CIA's and the Air forces in Nevada and I know you boys have your small subsection as well." Her time in Vegas came to mind and the finger one of the agents, a regular at the club she was dancing at, twitched at the memory of it. Though it had healed well, it still bothered her when the weather was cold and she couldn't fold it completely when making a fist. "If you do you might be partnered up with your Scully. If you are, I will need an invite to the wedding, after all, it was my idea that led you there, so you're welcome future Wally."

At hearing Wally, Dolly nuzzled against Elizabeth's chin wanting to listen in and let out a small ruff at the words he said. With a giggle, she put it on speaker mode so the pup could hear him clearer. "I should be thanking her for the company. And you for letting me watch her. The days seem to be flying by with her around. and she gives me an excuse to finally go exploring around the island like I wanted to." There was something to be said about the way that he was willing to talk about anything else than what she knew would be the biggest thorn in her side while trying to get the office ready for her to leave. So she let herself be distracted by him talking about his day. Letting a groan out at the simple mistakes some people made.

"I'm always preparing, there's a difference. It's like the condom motto, it's better to have one and not need it than to need it and not have it." Cuddling against Dolly she added. "Dolly's different and you know it." Rolling her eyes she added. "Yes, I know they jump, but its better than being kicked by hind legs of a powerful animal or be thrown from one."

Oh, now that was promising. “Well it’s been a while since I’ve been out there, this sounds like the perfect excuse to travel for a bit.” Settling into a kore comfortable position, she sighed. As much as she poked fun at him for being tired, the recent uptake on hikes and walks with Dolly around was tiring her too. “Thanks for that. Can’t believe you were thinking about my case while working on yours.”

Hearing the all-familiar tone of a video call, she shifted around so she was still cuddling Dolly but she had become all too conscious about the fact that she was wearing his sweater. Hoped the fact that she was holding the phone out so Dolly was in front of her would help hide it. Knowing him, he would see it and use it as an excuse to tease her about possibly missing him, which she didn't. She only wore it because it was the coziest thing she had at the moment, he hadn't lied when he talked about how soft it was. It felt like a lot like a hug.

After settling into a position, she let it switch over and it took a moment to adjust seeing how much darker it was on his end. His green eyes shone like twinkling emerald stars, taking her off guard for a second. "The Roosevelt, she only lived there for a very short period of time. If anything she'd be at the Brentwood estate she was found at. I don't know why people can't let that poor woman be. She suffered enough when she was alive." Magnus was an old Hollywood lover and would waste no moment to show her the old movies or tell her what he knew about them. Most of her aliases came from those old movies. The laugh was a small one, it wasn't at him but at the idea of that hallway having a poltergeist. "If that were the case we would all already have one attached to each of us, this planet has been spinning for so long that if everyone became ghosts, by now we would all have one."

It felt like the lighthouse all over again, questions she thought she would be asked or had ever thought about before, that somehow only felt like a Wally thing. Whether it be the agent training or the curiosity he seemed to have, she would indulge for now, he had after all let his dog stay with her. Pondering the question over a moment, she thought about all the times that she thought she saw her dad in places over the years in her travels. When visiting parks that they had visited, mostly in California which he always loved. She remembered Jennifer telling him once that he might be John Muir reincarnated. With a sigh, she replied. "I read once that ghosts are a lot things to people. That sometimes they are a daydream or guilt or anger or even a memory. I think sometimes people wish for someone to be around so much that they can conjure their own ghosts. But," she laughed. "I also come from people who believe in fairies and merpeople and trolls, and ghosts too. So I think it would be silly for me to say that they don't exist in a way. And I guess you obviously do or else we wouldn't be having this conversation, right?"

There was that bit of hair that seemed to always be in his face when he let his hair down. She wanted to reach out and tuck behind his ear as she had before he left but couldn't. "Hey," there was something about not being able to look into his eyes unobstructed that seemed to bother her at the moment. "Sorry, but ," she pointed towards her face as if to mimic the tucking motion. "Can you... I don't know why but it's bugging me." It was then that she realized, as the memory of the last time he was there came back that not only was she sleeping in his hoodie, he had slept in her bed and she was cozying up to his dog while on the phone with him. Something strange stirred in her, but she ignored it chalking it up to just being tired. He'd fall asleep before she did though if she kept him talking. "So what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

[mimikyuno]

🫧🎀🎨 ENA5 WISHES AND PREDICTIONS🎀🎨🫧

ena meets yuuki. I genuinely always found it a bit strange how in the latest New Year’s event yuuki meets kanade and mafuyu and not ena. when ena has been the person closest to mizuki in niigo (as she’s the one who is waiting for mizuki to open up, while knmf have no idea mizuki is even hiding anything). so like. i genuinely think yuuki will be involved, to an extent. maybe she comes back bc mizuki’s parents are worried and call her back to japan and she meets ena, or maybe ena somehow manages to contact her and the two have a chat. idk. anyway i think yuuki will be involved in ena5, or at least in the resolution of mizuki’s struggles.

ena goes absolutely insane. i rly want to see ena lose her mind lol. like we know she’s obsesses with mizuki and loves her so so much. she saw her looking sad one (1) time and has been on her ass since. as established in the escape room, she knows her so well. when they were going up the roof, she kept making jokes trying to ease mizuki’s anxiety. she loves her so so so much. and she probably currently hates herself for not being able to stop her. so yeah, i cant wait to see her go on a one woman mission to get her mizuki back. i want to see her desperate. sorry not sorry

kanamafu struggle in the dark. this is connected to above, but i feel like ena would be too scared to ask anyone for help. mizuki was outed to her, she wouldnt do the same. and while ena has asked for help about mizuki in the past (for example, asked shizuairi and meiko), i feel like this time she’ll keep quiet, or ask just meiko. and kanamafu will know something is very, very wrong. and so they’ll try to reach out and understand what’s wrong and meet walls of silence. i want them to finally see that mizuena have had this secret hanging between them for so long, and i want them to also be there for mizuki after the main resolution. i want cozy niigo loving and accepting each other 🥺.

meiko is a key figure. i ena knows meiko suspects/knows about mizuki. so meiko is literally the only person (outside of yuuki) that ena can go to for advice. i want meiko and ena and kaito to talk and maybe even fight a bit and try to find a way to reach mizuki and fix the situation.

mizuki is acknowledged as a girl. this is more of a hope than a prediction but i hope that mizuki’s transness will keep being handled with care. i would be happy to see them avoiding cliches such as “i care about you no matter what gender you are” bc mizuki’s crux is the fear of change, change in niigo’s perception of her as just a girl, and not a “trans girl” or “not rly a girl”. so i want ena to acknowledge this directly. somehow. idk how but i need her to tell mizuki nothing’s changed in her perception of her. she’ll always be mizuki.

DATE. okay like. i know many think that SEGA is gonna drag this out for storytelling + financial reasons. for example, i saw ppl speculating that kanade5 might happen before ena5, so that kanade and mafuyu can learn what is happening. at first i lowkey agreed but tbh i dont think they’re gonna drag it out this much. like, not only is mizuki is a fan favourite and keeping her in this state for so long is… a bit questionable, but also there’s concerts coming up? and they cant keep her depressed much longer when that means they won’t be able to use her or ena AT ALL in any mixed event, which doesn’t make much sense imo. i genuinely think they might wrap this up before the movie drops tbh. it probably wont be wrapped up super neatly and there will still be stuff to discuss (maybe in kana5 or in the niigo 6th rotation) BUT things will be fixed enough that mizuki can go back to smile and appear in the real world and have a spark in her eyes BEFORE the movie (january 17th, 2025). i genuinely thought we would have ena5 BEFORE the 4th colorful live (bc like. how can mizuena be so depressed in game and sing on stage together? like yeah the lives are not rly canon but the VIBES. the VIBES!) which will be held december 13-15 and again january 24-26 (2025) but uhmm. i feel like we would have gotten an announcement by now if ena5 was rly coming in the first half of december idk. still possible since there’s an upcoming livestream in like 19 hours but. uhm. idk. sega PLEAS-

CARDS. I remember someone pointed out how mizuki has had zero 4* cards in any ena focus event, to show how she's keeping her distance. as such, i really think that ena5 will be The Event in which mizuki will finally feature as a 4* card. honestly im hoping for a very gay matching card (anhane style in an4... pls sega...) but that's just me coping lol. anyway my card prediction is ena 4*, mizuki 4*, meiko 4*, kanade 3* and mafuyu 2*. though tbh there was already a VS 4* in mizu5 (kaito), so maybe they'll make meiko a 3* and have a 4* of kanade or mafuyu. honestly, even luka might appear in the lineup. haven't seen anyone mention her but she and meiko have been the two VS closest to mizuki when it comes to her secret and her tendency to run away. so maybe a luka 3* or something.

COMM. okay i have no idea about this imma be honest but. i am hoping for a producer who can put forward heartfelf lyrics and melody. lowkey hoping for mafumafu (as he has already proven he understands mizuki and ena's relationship with cellphone lovestory). copium in immense quantities but niigo has covered quite a few pinocchiop's songs but have no comms by him... he's one of my favourite producers and his lyrics always kill me so i know his ena5 comm would be devastating. but honestly both mafumafu and pinocchiop feel quite unlikely, so maybe TOA (who already composed IDsmile and twilight light and has made tweets during mizu5) or wotaku (since gehenna is so intrinsically connected with the mizuena storyline). or imagine maretu... iyowa... eight... teniwoha... aaah... endless possibilities... but yeah it could be anyone lol, the names i mentioned are more hopes than predictions, i'll be fine with anyone as long as the song fully captures mizuena's relationship.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Lost in the Stacks

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

AU: Coffee Shop Owner Steve x reader

Warnings: none just Robin and Steve things

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, I was very passionate about my Stevie boy so take this long fic :) (I’m slowly getting use to writing more- bear with me-)

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The bell above the door jingled softly as you stepped into The Upside. The café-bookshop hybrid was a warm refuge from the gray skies outside, its wooden shelves lined with books, mismatched armchairs tucked into cozy corners, and the smell of coffee and baked goods filling the air.

Behind the counter, Steve Harrington was wrestling with the espresso machine. His dark green sweater hugged his frame in a way that made you linger for a second too long, and his hair looked as effortlessly perfect as ever.

“You’ve gotta finesse it, Harrington. Not scare it into submission,” Robin Buckley teased, grabbing a cloth and wiping the counter as she passed him.

“I don’t scare it—I tame it,” Steve retorted, though the machine sputtered indignantly, making Robin snort.

“Hey, you,” Robin said, looking up and spotting you. “Back for more of our famous customer service?”

You laughed, setting your bag on the counter. “Obviously. Where else can I get entertainment with my coffee?”

Steve glanced up, his expression softening when he saw you. “Hey! Usual?”

“Please,” you said, smiling. “But no rush. Looks like you’re in a heated negotiation over there.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, this thing hates me. I think it’s personal.”

Robin leaned over conspiratorially. “It is. And it’s winning.”

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his grin as he busied himself with your order. Robin gave you a sly wink before walking off to restock pastries.

It wasn’t just the books or the coffee that kept drawing you back to The Upside. It was Steve, with his clumsy charm and easy smiles, and Robin, whose sharp humor always made you laugh. Together, they made the place feel less like a shop and more like a second home.

Months ago, you’d stumbled into The Upside for the first time, drenched from an unexpected rainstorm.

Steve had been behind the counter, towel in hand before you could even ask. “Rough day?” he’d asked, his grin warm and teasing.

“You could say that,” you replied, wringing out your hair.

“Well, you’re in the right place. Best coffee in town. Also, books. You like books, right?”

“I think you’re supposed to ask that before recommending them,” you said, smiling despite yourself.

“Details,” he said with a wave of his hand. “What’s your usual? Or do you want me to surprise you?”

Before you could answer, Robin piped up from where she was shelving books. “Don’t trust him. He once made me a ‘surprise drink’ that tasted like dish soap.”

Steve scoffed, though his grin never wavered. “Ignore her. She’s bitter because she’s not the favorite coworker.”

“I’m your only coworker!”

That first visit had stuck with you—not just because of the cozy atmosphere but because of Steve’s awkward charm and the way Robin’s sarcasm balanced it out. You’d started coming back regularly after that, finding excuses to linger a little longer each time.

Over the weeks, your visits to The Upside became a steady routine. Steve always greeted you with a smile that seemed reserved just for you, and Robin never missed an opportunity to tease him about it.

One afternoon, Steve handed you a book along with your latte. “This just came in. Thought you might like it.”

You glanced at the cover, touched by the gesture. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll let you know what I think.”

Robin smirked as she passed by, muttering, “Smooth move, Casanova.”

Steve shot her a look, cheeks flushing.

Another time, you brought in a stack of books to donate. “Figured they’d get more love here than on my shelf,” you said.

“Great taste, as always,” Steve said, flipping through the titles.

Robin leaned over the counter, stage-whispering, “Just ask her out already.”

Steve glared at her, but his lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.

Steve leaned against the counter, pretending to focus on the list of inventory Robin had scribbled earlier, but his attention wasn’t on the task at hand. His eyes kept drifting toward you, seated at one of the tables near the window with a cup of coffee in front of you and a book in your hands.

The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated your features, catching in your hair and making you glow. You were engrossed in your book, an occasional smile or furrow of your brows giving away your thoughts as you read. Steve couldn’t stop watching, his heart pounding in his chest at every subtle movement you made.

Robin, sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the counter as she sorted through a box of new arrivals, didn’t miss his distracted expression.

“Oh my God, you’re doing it again,” she said, snapping her fingers at him.

Steve startled, straightening up. “Doing what?”

“That thing where you stare at Love like she’s the lead in some cheesy romantic movie,” Robin said, gesturing dramatically toward him.

Steve frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m not staring.”

Robin gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “Oh, really? Because you’ve been ‘not staring’ at her for, like, ten minutes now. You’re lucky she hasn’t noticed.”

“She hasn’t noticed, right?” Steve asked quickly, panic creeping into his voice.

Robin rolled her eyes. “No, Steve, she hasn’t noticed. She’s too busy living her life while you’re over here acting like a lovesick puppy.”

“I’m not a lovesick puppy,” Steve muttered, though his flushed cheeks betrayed him.

Robin snorted. “Right. You just can’t stop staring at her because… what? You’re admiring her reading posture?”

Steve glared at her but didn’t respond.

Robin grinned, leaning forward. “You like her.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve said automatically, though he knew it was a weak denial.

“Please,” Robin scoffed. “You so like her. Don’t even try to deny it, Harrington. You’ve been crushing on her for weeks, and it’s getting painful to watch.”

Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine, okay, yes—I like her. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Robin said, her grin widening. “So why haven’t you done anything about it?”

“Because I don’t want to screw it up,” Steve admitted, lowering his voice. “What if I ask her out and it’s weird? What if she stops coming here?”

Robin’s expression softened, though her teasing tone remained. “Steve, listen to me: Love likes you. Trust me on this one. She laughs at all your terrible jokes, she lets you recommend books, and she spends way too much time here for someone who’s just into coffee and novels.”

Steve hesitated. “She might just… like the shop.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. She likes you. It’s so obvious. You’re just too chicken to admit it.”

“I’m not chicken,” Steve shot back, though his defensive tone only made Robin laugh.

“Really?” she said, standing up and brushing off her jeans. “Then why do you freeze up every time she walks over to talk to you?”

“I don’t freeze up!” Steve protested.

“Uh-huh,” Robin said, clearly unconvinced. “Look, Harrington, you’ve got two options: keep doing nothing and torture yourself, or grow a pair and talk to her like a normal person. Your choice.”

Steve groaned again, slumping against the counter. “Why do you have to make everything sound so dramatic?”

“Because it is,” Robin said with a smirk. “This is your big moment, Stevie. Don’t blow it.”

Steve sighed, stealing another glance at you. You were still focused on your book, completely oblivious to the conversation happening just a few feet away.

Suddenly, he straightened up, a thought popping into his head. “Wait… I have an idea.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Steve gave her a look, his fingers tapping nervously on the counter. “I’ll just… give her coffee. On the house. You know, as a little gesture.”

Robin’s eyes widened in amusement. “Wait, that’s it? You’re gonna give her free coffee? Wow, Harrington. Such a bold move.”

“Shut up,” Steve muttered, but a smile tugged at his lips. “It’s something.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky she likes you, because this is honestly the most anticlimactic thing I’ve ever heard.”

But Steve wasn’t listening. He was already making his way to the counter, clearing his throat before calling out to you, who was still absorbed in your book.

You looked up, smiling at him in that warm way that always made Steve’s heart skip a beat. “Hey, Steve.”

“Hey, Love,” he said, already fumbling with the coffee machine. He was trying to look cool, but his hands were shaking just a little.

“Can I get you a refill?” he asked, focusing more on the machine than on you.

Your eyes softened, your smile widening. “I was actually just about to ask for one.”

“Well, it’s on the house today,” Steve said, trying to sound casual but feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “For you, Love.”

You blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. “Oh, wow. Thank you! That’s really sweet of you.”

Steve just nodded, still trying to avoid looking directly at you, as he poured the coffee into a fresh cup. He handed it to you with a nervous grin, which you returned.

“Anytime,” he said, voice a little more strained than he’d intended. He stepped back toward the counter, fighting the urge to keep staring at you.

Robin, of course, didn’t miss any of this. From across the room, she gave Steve an exaggerated thumbs-up and mouthed the words, You got this, making him groan internally.

You were already sipping your coffee, and Steve allowed himself to look at you again for just a second. You seemed genuinely pleased, the warmth of your smile making him feel lighter.

“Don’t back out, go for it” Robin says as she pats him on the back before going back to fixing the shelves.

It was a slow Tuesday afternoon at The Upside. The warm light streaming through the shop’s tall windows highlighted the specks of dust dancing lazily in the air. Steve was behind the counter, pretending to reorganize the coffee syrups but really stealing glances at you as you browsed the fiction shelves.

You had a small smile on your lips, your fingers brushing over the spines of books as you debated which one to pick. Steve thought you looked beautiful—effortlessly so—and it made his stomach twist in knots every time he saw you.

Robin, perched on the stool near the register, noticed his distracted glances and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Steve, if you stare any harder, you’re going to set her on fire,” she whispered, leaning toward him.

“Shut up,” Steve hissed, his face immediately heating.

Robin grinned mischievously. “Oh, come on, Harrington. This is painful to watch. Just go over there and ask her out already.”

Steve shook his head quickly, his voice low but insistent. “I can’t just… I don’t know if she even likes me like that!”

Robin rolled her eyes, hopping off her stool and leaning her elbows on the counter. “Are you kidding me? She comes in here all the time. She laughs at your dumb jokes. She even lets you recommend books—and you have terrible taste in books.”

“I do not!” Steve protested.

“You do, but that’s not the point. The point is, she’s obviously into you. You’re just too chicken to see it.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but before he could get a word out, Robin stood up straight, clapped her hands together, and said loudly, “Hey, Sweetheart!”

Your head popped up from behind a shelf, a book in hand. “Yeah?”

“Can you come here for a second? Steve has something he wants to tell you.”

Steve froze, his face draining of color. “Robin!” he hissed, wide-eyed.

You walked over, your curiosity piqued. “What’s up?”

Robin smiled innocently. “Steve was just saying he—”

“Needs help with the espresso machine!” Steve interrupted, practically jumping in front of her.

You blinked, clearly confused. “You need my help?”

Robin snorted, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Nice save, Harrington.”

Steve glared at her before turning to you, his cheeks flushed. “No, I don’t—look, can we talk for a second? Alone?”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, but you nodded. “Sure.”

Robin gave Steve a smug grin as she stepped away, muttering, “You’re welcome,” under her breath.

Steve led you toward one of the quieter corners of the shop, away from prying eyes (and ears). He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Okay,” he started, exhaling deeply. “So, uh, this is going to sound kind of dumb, but—”

“It’s not dumb,” you interrupted gently, giving him an encouraging smile.

That seemed to give him the courage to continue. “Right. Well, I’ve been, uh… I’ve been meaning to ask you something for a while now. But I kept chickening out, and then Robin decided to, you know, stick her nose in, because that’s what she does.”

You laughed softly, which made him relax a little.

“The thing is,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I really like you. And I’ve been wanting to ask you out, but I wasn’t sure if you’d… if you’d even want that.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat. “You like me?”

Steve nodded, his cheeks a little pink. “Yeah. I do. A lot. And if you don’t feel the same, that’s totally fine, I just… I had to say it.”

For a moment, you didn’t say anything, and Steve’s nerves seemed to spike.

“Love?” he asked cautiously.

You smiled, your voice soft. “I like you too, Steve.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” you said, laughing. “Why do you think I keep coming back here? It’s not just for the books or the coffee.”

Relief and joy washed over his face, and he let out a nervous chuckle. “Wow. Okay. That’s… that’s good. Great, actually.”

“So,” you said, taking a small step closer, “are you going to ask me out properly, or do I have to do it for you?”

Steve grinned, his confidence returning. “Right. Would you, uh, want to go out with me? Like, on a date?”

“I’d love to,” you said, your smile bright.

Robin, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping from behind a shelf, popped her head out with a triumphant smirk. “Finally! Took you long enough.”

Steve groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Robin!”

You just laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Steve peeked at you through his fingers, his embarrassment fading when he saw how happy you looked.

“Guess that means I should start planning something great,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

“You’ve got this, Harrington,” Robin called from across the shop, giving him a thumbs-up.

Steve shook his head, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

Steve had picked you up just after sunset, his car rumbling to a stop outside your house. You’d stepped out the door wearing something simple yet thoughtful, a soft smile on your face as you slid into the passenger seat.

“Wow,” Steve said, his voice soft, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment too long. “You look… amazing.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks. “Thanks, Steve. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Yeah, well, I figured I’d try to impress you.”

The car ride was filled with lighthearted conversation and a bit of nervous laughter, both of you falling into an easy rhythm despite the fluttering nerves. Steve drove you to a small, tucked-away diner on the outskirts of town, a place he’d discovered during one of his many aimless drives.

“It’s not fancy or anything,” he said as he held the door open for you, “but they make the best burgers in Hawkins. And the milkshakes? Life-changing.”

The interior was quaint, with vinyl booths and a glowing jukebox in the corner. The smell of sizzling food was inviting, and the soft hum of chatter created a comfortable atmosphere. Steve guided you to a booth near the window, where the glow of the streetlights outside cast a warm light over the table.

The conversation started light—books you’d recently read, Steve’s stories about running the shop with Robin (“She’s like a tornado, but I wouldn’t trade her for anyone”), and the little quirks of Hawkins.

“Okay, serious question,” Steve said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Pizza,” you replied instantly. “Easy.”

“Solid choice,” he said, nodding approvingly. “But you haven’t lived until you’ve tried the waffles from Benny’s. We’re talking top-tier breakfast food. You’ll see—I’ll take you there sometime.”

The way he said it so casually—like there would definitely be another date—made your heart skip.

By the time the food arrived, you were both relaxed, laughing over Steve’s high school antics.

“So you’re telling me,” you said, trying to suppress a giggle, “you actually styled your hair for gym class?”

“Hey,” he said defensively, though his grin gave him away. “It’s called priorities. And anyway, it worked. My hair survived dodgeball.”

“Barely,” you teased, taking a sip of the milkshake he’d insisted you try. It was, as promised, incredible.

Steve reached for his own shake at the same moment, knocking his hand against yours. The cup tipped slightly, and a streak of chocolate landed on the table—and on your sleeve.

“Oh no,” Steve groaned, grabbing a handful of napkins. “I’m so sorry. This is why Robin calls me a walking disaster.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s fine. Really. Chocolate’s a good look for me.”

He glanced up, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. “You’re taking this way too well. Most people would be plotting revenge by now.”

“Maybe I’m saving it for later,” you teased.

After dinner, Steve suggested a walk to help you “digest” (and maybe work off the milkshake fiasco). The park was quiet, the air cool and crisp as leaves rustled underfoot.

Steve walked beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, occasionally glancing your way as if to make sure you were still enjoying yourself.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I was kind of nervous about tonight.”

“Why?” you asked, surprised.

He shrugged, kicking a small rock along the path. “I guess I didn’t want to screw it up. You’re… different. In a good way. I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Steve, it’s been perfect. Milkshake disasters and all.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart flutter. “Yeah? You mean that?”

“I do,” you said, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around you.

When Steve walked you to your door, the nerves he’d managed to shake off earlier crept back in.

“So,” he said, rocking on his heels. “This was… really fun.”

“It was,” you agreed, smiling.

“I, uh, I’d like to do it again sometime,” he said, his voice hopeful.

You nodded. “I’d like that too.”

For a moment, it looked like he might leave it there, but then he stepped closer, brushing a soft kiss against your cheek. “Goodnight, love”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

As he walked back to his car, a little bounce in his step, you leaned against your door, already looking forward to the next time.

The next time you walked into The Upside, the bell jingling above your head, Steve’s grin was a little brighter. And when Robin saw the way he looked at you, she just smirked.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[vodika-vibes]

Forbidden

Summary: Fox has always followed the rules. As Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard it’s required to keep himself, and his men safe. It’s too bad that the only rule he isn’t able to follow is the only one that could protect him from emotional harm.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 997

Warnings: Uh...kinda bittersweet, some minor discussion of the clones not being considered people

A/N: I wanted to write a Fox fic, and so I wrote a Fox fic.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

Fox is an idiot.

The world’s, no, the galaxy’s biggest idiot.

As Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard he knows that the rules that he, and Cody, have crafted for their brothers were designed to keep them safe, and alive, while on Coruscant. Designed to protect them from people who see the clones as less than the dirt beneath their feet.

He knows this.

Which is why he’s an idiot.

If he were smarter, or even better at following the rules, he would be back at the barracks, and probably asleep, or trying to sleep in the small bed that he can call his.

He definitely wouldn’t be here, in front of a small apartment, keying in a door code to see the one person on Coruscant who would ruin his life if she said the wrong thing to the wrong person. 

The door slides open as he finishes keying in the code, and he hurries into the apartment before anyone notices him, turning and locking the door behind him. 

The apartment, her apartment, is warm and cozy. It’s a studio apartment, barely big enough for one person, let alone two, but it feels like home to him. The walls are painted in warm creams and yellows, and every surface is covered with paintings and carvings. 

One wall of the hallway is covered by a massive shelf, which she bought specifically for him to store his armor on when he comes to visit, though it also doubles as a bookshelf. 

He finishes pulling his armor off, stashing each piece in a cubby, then he stores his blaster in the gun safe she also bought for his use, and then he steps further into the apartment.

Fox turns a corner, and there she is. 

Standing in her small kitchen, dancing and singing along to the music filling her home, all while decorating cookies on the tray in front of her. There’s flour in her hair, and on her apron, but she doesn’t seem to care as she swings her hips in time to the music.

She’s beautiful. She’s perfect.

Fox loves her.

And he’s completely fucked.

He leans against the wall and watches her dance for a moment, until she turns her head slightly and finally sees him. Her entire face brightens when she sees him, and Fox falls in love with her all over again.

“Fox! You came!” She wipes her hands on her apron, and then crosses over to him in several large bounces so she’s able to throw her arms around his neck.

He folds his arms around her, “Did you think I wouldn’t?” Fox shivers when she buries her face in his neck.

“I saw on the news that you all had a busy day,” She replies against his neck, “I wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t.”

“I needed to see you.”

She pulls away slightly and reaches up to brush her fingers against his jaw, “Did you?”

“I missed you while you were gone.” Fox adds as he lightly bumps his forehead against hers, “Two weeks is far too long for me to not be able to see you.”

She laughs softly, “Maybe I’ll bring you with me next time.” It won’t be possible, and they both know it, but it’s nice to pretend. “How are you?”

Horrible. Terrible. I’m starting to think that I won’t survive the war. 

The truth would scare her away, and losing her would destroy him, so he smiles and lies. “I’m alright, I just missed you.”

“Well, I’m here now.”

Fox pulls her closer, “Yeah, you are.” He decides that any more talking is unnecessary as he pulls her into a kiss. A single kiss that turns into another one, and then another one. 

He might very well be addicted to her.

“How long can you stay?” She asks, her voice slightly breathless. 

He shouldn’t stay for long. If anyone found out about this, about them, about her, he would be decommissioned and force only knows what would happen to her, but with her in his arms, Fox finds himself uncaring about the potential consequences. 

“You have me all night.” He whispers against her lips.

Delight flickers across her face, “Really?”

“Really.”

Laughter falls from her and she jumps into his arms, something that Fox was expecting as he effortlessly supports her weight while she hooks her legs around his waist. “You never stay all night.” She says against his lips.

“I am now.”

She kisses him properly, her arms tightening around his neck, “Good.”

Fox doesn’t even hesitate before he walks her across the room to drop her on her bed, and he doesn’t hesitate before he climbs over her, settling himself between her spread legs. 

There, stretched out beneath him, with her hair spread like a halo around her head, she’s never been more beautiful. He catches her hands and pins them over her head, before he leans in and kisses her, “I love you.” 

It’s not the first time he’s told her that he loved her, but her face brightens every time he does. If he ever meets the person who told her that she’s unlovable, he’ll kill them.

But that’s a thought for later. 

For now, though, he’s going to spend his night physically showing her how much he loves her. 

As he peels her apron and shirt off, tossing them to the side to be dealt with later, Fox kisses down her throat to her collar, “I wish,” He mumbles, “I wish we could live anywhere else. Somewhere where I can kiss you in public, without having to worry about someone seeing.” He looks up at her, “Somewhere where us isn’t forbidden.”

“Maybe someday,” She whispers, “After the war. It can’t continue forever, and then you’ll be free to choose.”

An optimist’s view, perhaps, but Fox is happy to cling to her optimistic hope while he’s in her arms.

And so his original point remains.

He really is the galaxy’s biggest idiot.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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[wis-art]

I deleted a post vaguing the fuck out of someone cuz honestly, a post made in frustration that really doesn't convey what i wanted to say, I think I added to a dogpile already happening on that person even tho I mostly had an issue with the kinda language she uses and edgy humor, because I think it is irresponsible. I would not be talking about somebody over getting in an argument with someone else I don't know 👍, I think it's fair she put me on blast and explained how the post came off, which I then read and concluded, I guess it could be interpreted that way. I really do not care and a lot of posts she makes come off like pitting Trans men against Trans women, that's really my main criticism. Tone down the edgy jokes, and make it easier to follow for slow dumbasses like me.

Overall, I think the post was unnecessary, and especially with the current timing really just added to internet dogpiling of a trans woman, which sucks and for that i am sorry. Don't make ironic bigoted edgy jokes tho. Don't cozy up people who can hide their bigotry behind ironic humor.

Yes I used recent things as an example from like her getting angry at the people she's arguing with, and I misunderstood the one insult she said as something wayyyy worse, I can assure you that I was not trying to misconstrue her points (which im not sure how much that matters since i still posted it to my audience and the responsibility is still on my uninformed ass), and that I do not care if trans woman online argues with people, and calls them names 😭

[isatling-husbandry-guide]

(deeply embarrassed to be asking this, unfortunately i'm a bio major so it's been in the back of my mind for a while. do they. lay?? the eggs?? or is it like a wish craft thing? if the former, can they interbreed? would there be a mix of species in the clutch or is it like pokemon where it's only the "mother's" species? and if it's the latter, do they need to have a tankmate to help or can they just like perform a ritual solo and then BOOM. EGGS. are there warning signs that your isatling is contemplating seeking divine intervention to acquire children or do people just wake up one day and surprise, your guy has eggs now!!)

(sorry for the psychic damage :( i watch a lot of kitten lifecycle videos so i've just been laughing at the idea of providing your siffrin with a super cozy nest area and then you wake up to find the clutch of eggs in their food dish or something)

I would love to answer this question but alas I fear. that I am a coward who doesn’t want to get into the specifics of isatling breeding????? I’ve gotten a few questions about crossbreeding & such, so to answer those: yeah, sure, go ahead!! If you want to conjure up Isatling fan kids or fusions then you can absolutely go for it & ask questions about them. this is also me giving you explicit permission to send in your fan kids as little isatlings though I cannot? provide info on them? since they’re not my oc? you can also submit human loops too if your heart so desires it :].

IMPORTANT NOTE: topics like this EXCLUDE bonnie & every single other child character 100% of the time. we are not going to discuss it. i’m banning it on this tumblr dot com webpage. if you ask me these things about the kid characters i will find you and hunt you down. okay? okay. yay🩵

How it works is: whatever you think!!! I will say that for some it is definitively the Universe’s interference (as is the case with Loop eggs) but for everything else I really don’t know beyond “there are eggs”. also I think “asking for divine intervention to acquire children” is really fucking funny so I will say that’s part of isatling canon lore. Warning signs for this include nesting behavior (making a little nook) and rationing/hiding food + a sugary smell.

Maybe my answer will change later on. but for now I give you: “eggs can be willed into existence and crossbreeding occurs Somehow”. Thank you and have a good day / night / timeloop

[radioiaci]

The thought of a slime catching him unawares in the middle of the night was likely not the weirdest thing that had done so - Niffty being one such case. That singular eye of hers could be unsettling in certain circumstances.

Alastor could not immediately see the appeal that would turn such a place into one's favorite, but it was eye-catching and interesting, his own feet carrying him down and into the pit purposefully so that he did not stumble or fall. He was graceful, but the presence of water may or may not have been throwing his sense of balance off. Still, he managed it without any major mishaps, opening his mouth to respond to Lucifer's questions once he was sure he was not going to be prone to toppling.

"I am partial to many foods," he said, settling himself down into a seat that was not too far from where Lucifer himself was - but he was not about to cozy up to the other without being pointedly inebriated or high. Some barriers were only meant to be crossed under some sort of influence.

"I am fond of savory things. I grew up in the American south. Rice and beans, corn, meats such as chicken and pork. Lots of herbs and vegetables. But if you specifically mean treats... Pretzels are not terrible choices. Simple. But I can't say I've ever had a... cheese puff." His nose wrinkled as he said it, trying to determine what that would even entail. Alastor did not often eat so much processed foods. Though some days, he was hungry enough to. One couldn't be exceedingly picky when one woke from an eighteen hour sleep that leaves them on the brink of starvation itself because of their gluttonous Hell curse.

Any food, in those cases, would do.

Making a mental note of some of the trinkets and other such décor that filled the space, his ear swiveled back towards Lucifer at his secondary question.

"Astrology? No. Not particularly. If you mean the whole... telling of futures or fortunes in the stars. I don't think I ever believed in it."

Though he hadn't necessarily believed in demons either, until he'd made an attempt to summon Lucifer himself in life and had been rewarded with Lilith instead.

So who could say what was real and what wasn't?

"Give me more to smoke and then tell me about it," he continued, peering at Lucifer with a sideways glance and smirk. He'd talk about anything, really, if it meant that he could get into a certain state of mind while he did it. Already tempted by their earlier set plan and not wanting to deviate before getting what he wanted.

"Haha, did you now? They miss you~ How cold," his voice floated down to the semi-aquatic conversation pit from the side. Lucifer was partially in view, taking off his second heel to free his other hoof. He looked up over a shoulder and sent a cheeky grin. "One of these days, you're going to wake up with one staring you dead in the eyes. Well. As much as one can stare."

Speaking from experience, it both explained the hard time breathing and scared the living daylights outta Lucifer.

"But, uh— yeah! Welcome, to one of my favorite places in Hell!" Part of what made it so was the ones that normally joined him here, bittersweet nostalgia twisting his old heart... but — but! Now, was the opportunity to form new connections and memories. He would not squander what chance he had here for times long gone, and slips on a dark linen top that he ties on loosely with matching shorts, cozy. "Used to love losing hours in here when it was my turn to host get togethers."

The devil watches with some amusement at Alastor carefully picking his way over to the conversation pit acting as a sort of island on the waterbed esque floor, eyes crinkling at the corners and smirk teasing the edges of his mouth. "Very. Point is to not want to get back up once you get comfortable and relax. Creature comforts abound. Though, that does beg the question, do you snack? What constitutes as a treat for you? I can't imagine pretzels being a top pick, or cheese puffs."

Lucifer's own hooves tread lightly on the flooring, bounding over quickly like a kid in a bounce house to leap onto one of the massive cushions provided. A few downy feathers escape, and he slowly sinks from view, swallowed by the pillow, save for the blond top of his head.

There's currently artificial sunlight drifting down on them from the stained glass ceiling, bathing the space of the conversation pit in soft greens like looking at the warm sky through a summertime canopy of leaves. Alastor's wandering eyes would spot shelving off to the side with different glass and metal pieces. One being a familiar spiderlily ashtray proudly presented next to what would look like a glass figurine of a dolphin leaping from the water on one side and a lava lamp in a garish zebra pattern with purple and pink inside on the other.

The pit had a variety of objects scattered around, forgotten up until this point. One looked a bit like a miniature moon with a slot bisecting part of it instead of a crater, a few small crystalline disks scattered near it with labels scribbled in marker on top with various initials and handwriting. Leaning forward, Lucifer snagged a remote laying abandoned beside the miniature moon, asking, "Ever take an interest in astrology?"

[steampunkhobo]

For every night Delmar and Pete had to sleep on the ground and bed down on rocks or louse-infested straw, another pillow and blanket gets added to their bed