#its shaped like a bat and was a gift

[enthusiastic-nimrod]

She's finished!! Meet Rex: she has slowly destroyed her shoelaces and her gauge holes are slowly closing bc she never wears them anymore.

So my art resolution for this year is to draw more masc characters, and honestly? I think this is a really solid start!! I definitely have room to improve, and I'm excited to do so

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello!

I've been getting very into DC again, from all the comics I had in my attic.

So i would like to request a "meeting the batfam" like think.

Being Bruce's new boyfriend and meeting the kids and how would they react.

Have a nice day! (You're the only think keeping me from commiting a crime/jk)

Bruce Wayne x male reader

Headcanons

Ive been on a kick lately of making half-god characters, so reader is the son of a god, hehe ^^

You were the son of Ares, a half god, and the son of a god most feared, and that the Justice league had fought many times.

So, by relation, many people didn’t trust you when they learned about your parentage. Had you been any crueler of a person, that might have driven you down a path where you followed in your fathers’ footsteps, but you weren’t.

You ended up inheriting many of his powers, even gaining his clairvoyance and precognition in dreams. Said dreams had been your first sign that you were more than just your average person, as you foresaw many of the larger disasters around the world.

There ends up being a sense of duty in your heart as your dreams keep warning you about an invasion of earth, becoming more and more detailed every night. It reaches a point where you think you are going mad.

As a last-ditch effort, you end up in Gotham, where you spend days trying to find any of the bats, just trying to find somebody to believe you. In the end, you stumble across Bruce, who probably thinks you are on something because of the less than put together state you are in.

That is until you spill everything you have been dreaming about, and how its all happened, and how this dream keeps haunting you every night.

Bruce of course listens to everything you have to say, and takes you as seriously as anything else he would. He keeps your warning in mind and gets prepared, and when your precognition comes to pass, he is ready.

From then in, Bruce passes by your place every now and then, as you end up moving to Gotham as Batman is the only hero you feel takes you seriously.

Hes the one to help you figure out your true parentage, and gets you in contact with some people who can help you deal with your new developing powers. You two end up bonding a lot, and over time, fall in love.

You both make each other feel like a full person and like you are understood. The relationship is kept quiet on Bruces end, not because he doesn’t trust his family or anything, but because he just wants to keep it to himself for a bit.

It does get a bit hard to hide the hand shaped bruises on his hips or torso when your godly strength slips out, but Bruce has lived with worse aches and bruises in his life, so its not something people notice.

You never went out of your way to become a hero, even with your godly powers. You are happy living your life and being together with Bruce, much of your stress gone since you know Bruce will believe you when it comes to your dreams.

When the day finally comes where you go to meet his family, you can’t help but feel a little nervous. Sure, you’ve met them in passing as their vigilante alter egos, when they’ve followed Bruce during his meetings with you, but this will be as Bruces lover.

Bruce is endeared by how hard you want to make a good impression, how you fuss with your hair and your clothes to be most presentable. When you ask him if you need to bring a gift or something, he just laughs a little and kisses your forehead, telling you to stop worrying as he’s sure they’ll love you.

The family all know Bruce is bringing his lover that night for family dinner, but they all don’t know who it is, even Alfred is in the dark.

They are all a bit on edge, as Bruce doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to partners. And since he didn’t tell them a name, they assume its not the people he’s normally been with, like Selina or Talia.

Imagine their surprise when Bruce arrives with you on his arm, from your civilian clothes to your sheepish smile, to you looking downright nervous to meet them as you clearly want to make a good first impression.

It might take a bit for any of them to recognize you, as only a few of them might have met you in passing, but you probably end up telling them during dinner when they ask how you and Bruce met.

I can’t see them being against you more than they would any other partner, especially when you go out of your way to use your dreams and abilities to help as many people as possible.

Cass is most likely the one to warm up to you first, as she can easily read that you are a good person who loves Bruce very much, and Cass’s approval makes the others become less tense and more open to the idea of you.

Alfred is also happy that Bruce has found someone who isn’t a criminal or assassin for once, even though they all know you could punch a guy to smithereens if you wanted too, thanks to your godly strength.

But your personality makes it clear that’s not something you want to do, so that gives you extra points in their books. They most likely use their knowledge from Diana and her parentage when it comes to you, incase you end up doing something a little too godly without realizing.

They’ve all been around many different kinds of people and beings, so I don’t think anything you do put them off. They’ll all just need time to warm up to you, and see with their own eyes that you truly do love Bruce, and that Bruce loves you back just as much.

It would take a while, as they were all trained by Bruce and are all suspicious of anybody and take forever to trust. It starts to make you think they’ll never like you, even when Bruce tells you they will, they just need time.

You know you’ve gained their trust when they start showing up in your apartment, be it after patrol, during the day, or any other time, they’re likely to just appear. This also means you end up learning a lot more first aid than you thought you’d ever need.

The last to trust you is Damian, but you can tell you scored a win when he demands you learn self-defense, as your form is horrible, and he drags you down to the cave to walk you through the basics.

Bruce feels like his heart could burst with love when he sees his family accepting you, and he couldn’t be any happier. The batfam is pretty damn happy too, as Bruce starts taking care of himself because of you.

Can’t have a date if he hasn’t slept in days, or if he’s covered in bruises or has broken bones. You probably end up spending a lot of time at the manor too, since Bruce can’t just go into town to spend time in your apartment during the day, or else the paparazzi would find out about the relationship almost immediately.

So, all in all, his kids would like you quite a lot after they got enough time to learn what kinda person you were, and what your morals were. They might even start seeing you as a safe person to go too when they need someone to talk too or just need some company.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Whatever the future may hold

Written for the May pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Graduation

Rated: M

Tags: Omegaverse; omega!Eddie; alpha!Steve; pregnancy; mentions of sex

Notes: Set in the same universe as Whatever you want it to be

Eddie turns the square cap in his hands, feeling utterly and supremely sorry for himself. He's been imagining this day for so long. Snatching that diploma from Higgins's unwilling hands and prancing off that stage into a brighter, better future.

Only now, that future fills him with nothing but dread.

He groans, burying his face in his arms.

It was all going so well.

A while ago, when Carver and his possee found out about his little omegan secret, he thought his life was over.

Except Steve Harrington swooped in like a white, baseball bat wielding knight and saved him, and took him home, and cared for him. Knotted him near damn stupid, too, not that Eddie is complaining.

They've since commenced what must be the weirdest courtship in the history of courtship - stolen glances and subtle gifts and furtive dates at Steve's house or Eddie’s trailer. Eddie has kept his secret safe, and Steve is its biggest protector.

It's perfect. Everything Eddie never knew he wanted.

So of course it couldn't last.

“Eddie?”

Shit!

He must've been so far gone in his head he didn't hear the trailer door open, didn't catch the scent wafting into his bedroom. Pine needles and moss and sunlight.

“Stevie,” he croaks, and his stomach twists.

Footsteps approach. The doorknob rattles once, twice, before Steve realizes it's locked. His scent turns worried. Steve's worried about him. Eddie’s needy hindbrain whines at the thought.

“Eds, lemme in. Please?”

Eddie is unlocking the door before he even realizes he’s moved. Quickly, dread clawing at his guts, he retreats back onto his bed.

“Hey,” Steve ducks around the gown dangling from its hanger by the door. “Wayne called, said you wouldn’t come out of your room? Ceremony’s about to start, what are you- Eddie? What’s wrong?”

Because he has just spotted Eddie, back against the wall, arms wrapped around hunched knees, trembling hand still clasping the cap. Steve is in front of him in an instant, mattress dipping under his weight. His hands cup Eddie’s face, tilting his head up, and Eddie knows he should pull away, he really should. Still, he’s helpless to do anything but let himself sink into Steve’s comforting touch and scent.

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice is a barely restrained growl. “Carver try shit again? You know you don’t have to worry-”

Eddie shakes his head. His stomach feels like it’s trying to crawl its way out of his throat. “It’s not Carver.”

Steve’s brow furrows.

“But then, what- … Are you sick?” He leans in, nosing the hollow of Eddie’s neck. “Your scent’s a bit off. Should I call a doctor, or-”

“Will you fucking leave it?” Eddie slaps Steve's hands away. The cap hits the mattress with a soft thud. “I'm not sick! Jesus!”

Steve's eyes are full of hurt confusion and worry. It makes Eddie want to laugh and cry and scream all at once.

“But I don't-” Steve stammers. “Why won't you-”

“Because I'm pregnant, okay?”

Steve's words screech to a halt. His eyes grow large, mouth forming a dumb little oh shape. It would be funny, Eddie thinks hysterically, if there was anything remotely funny about this entire clusterfuck of a situation.

“Wha-” Steve starts to say. Shuts his mouth. Opens it again. “I mean how- … I mean … are you sure?”

Like a line from some cliché soap opera. Eddie laughs weakly.

“Been puking my guts out all week. Took five tests, all positive. I'm pretty fucking sure, big boy.”

Silence seeps into the room. For a moment, Eddie thinks Steve's going to continue right on with the soap opera shit and ask when it happened. If it’s his. But Steve knows Eddie has never been with anyone else. Knows they've always been careful - except for that very first time.

Eddie screws his eyes shut and waits.

“Wow,” Steve breathes after an eternity. “That’s … that’s unbelievable.”

Eddie furrows his brow. Steve’s voice is brimming with incredulity, but also with something else. Something that, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d put close to … happiness? Hesitantly, he peeps one eye open.

He’s just in time to see Steve launch himself at him, and then he’s enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. Steve’s scent crests over him, heady and familiar.

“W-wait,” Eddie manages to mumble against the rapid staccato of Steve’s heartbeat. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Steve pulls back just enough to look at him. His smile is so wide, Eddie’s afraid his face might be too small for it. “Why would I be mad? You know I want kids, loads of them!”

“Well yeah,” Eddie stammers. The room is spinning and all he can see is Steve’s smile. “But-”

“And you know I can’t imagine a better person to have them with than you.”

“Well …” Eddie can practically feel himself flush. “I guess.”

Steve leans in to kiss his forehead. “Then why are you so upset, dumbass?”

“Well, I dunno,” Eddie blurts, unable to keep the sarcastic undertone at bay. “Maybe cause I’m barely out of school? Or because we’re not even mated? Because your parents will go absolutely fucking-”

“Fuck my parents,” Steve declares. “This is about you and me. We’ll figure it out one step at a time. First, and most importantly: Do you want to have this kid with me?”

One large hand finds Eddie’s stomach, splaying itself over it, warm and safe. Eddie feels how something inside of him goes soft.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, I’d love that.”

“Brilliant,” Steve beams, and kisses him. Eddie melts into it, but just as he’s about to lose himself in that summer forest scent, Steve pulls away. Eddie frowns as something is placed on his head - the stupid cap.

“And second,” Steve winks, giving his stomach one last gentle pat, “You gotta put on that gown and let me drive you to school. The two of you need to walk in half an hour.”

Poor Steve brought beer for the celebration. He'll need to drink it all by himself, whelp.

They're baaack, and they're having a baby!!! I said I'd write more of these two sooner rather than later, didn't I?

[basilpaste]

i had a whole big idea for this, but im afraid im not terribly good at comics! or drawing fast!!! but its isas birthday!!! happy birthday!!

(the gifts are under the cut! written out!)

"Thank you! But, oh Change, you really didn't have to get little ol' me anything, ehe!"

"Nonsense, Isabeau." Odile huffs fondly. "You're part of our little team, after all. Did you think we'd forget?"

Maybe a little? You don't even entirely remember telling them about your birthday! From the look on Mira's face, though, you must have told her. It seems like she orchestrated the whole thing.

She claps her hands together cheerfully, "So! Who wants to go first!"

Bonnie waves their hands wildly, hopping up and down. "Oh!! Oh me! I want to give Za my gift!!!"

Heh! It doesn't seem like anyone's willing to fight them on it. After a moment of silence, they cheer, rushing off to heft up a small gift bag. They hurtle back towards you and present the bag dramatically.

You gingerly take the bag from them and pull it open. Inside is a-

"WAUGH?" You yelp, dropping it!

The bag falls on its side, sending the contents tumbling out. A spider?! A spider!

A... spider-shaped pin cushion.

Oh.

Bonnie lets out a long hard laugh, pointing at you, "Hahah!!! You thought it was a real spider!! Spiders don't get that big, dummy!"

"You'd be surprised," Sif speaks up, batting their lashes oh-so innocently.

You shiver. Bonnie also shivers.

"Thank you Bonbon for the pin cushion." You say, grabbing it off the ground.

... Stabbing a spider-shaped thing might feel kinda nice, actually. It was obviously a prank gift, but you'll still get plenty of use out of it!

Bonnie grins at you brightly.

Odile steps up next, bowing her head to you. She passes you a neatly wrapped box. You carefully remove the paper (its pretty!) and unfold the box.

Oh! A book!

Colour Me Curious: A History Of Colour Theory.

"Back in Dormont's House," she glances back at Sif when she says the word Dormont, you pretend you don't see, "you mentioned having an interest in colour theory. A librarian a few towns back recommended this to me. I figured you might enjoy it."

You nod rapidly. Oh!! You're surprised you haven't looked into it yet! You're not sure how you forgot! Especially considering the weird shade - colour - you all have seen! With your eyes!

"Thank you, m'dame!!" You say, trying to be mindful of your volume.

She smiles, "Of course. I'd like to hear what you take from it."

"Of course!!"

"Okay! Okay, um... me next!" Mira pulls two boxes from her dress pocket (?????) and holds them anxiously, "I shouldn't have gotten two! I don't want to overshadow anyone else! But! I think you'd like these both! So! So. I got them both! Happy birthday, Isabeau!!"

You scoop them from her arms, "I don't think anyone is worried about you overshadowing them, Mira!"

The rest of your friends hum in agreement.

"Okay."

A beat.

"Start with the smaller one!"

The smaller one turns out to be a light novel of some sort. Oh! She's talked about this one before!! How she thought you'd like it because it's super cute! You thank her and place it softly on top of Odile's gift before turning your attention to the larger box.

This is...

"Oh?" You squeak, feeling a little choked up.

"Oh?" Mira echoes, "Oh no! Do you- do you not like it?"

You grab the gift from its box, running your hand along the grain. Oh no! You might cry! Oh Change!

"Mira!! Mira this is so expensive? This is so much?" You feel unworthy to even hold it.

This is like... three meters of silk?? It's dyed such a rich lightless shade? That's unbelievably expensive!! It's beautiful and so well made that you're not sure what to do with yourself. Oh crab.

"It wasn't so bad, really!!" She yelps, worry clouding her expression.

You very softly (very, very carefully) tuck the silk back into its gift box. Then you throw yourself at Mira, sweeping her up into a tight hug. She cries out, clinging to you. And then bursts into a fit of giggles.

"Thank you thank you thank you???"

"Waaa!!" She laughs, "I'm glad you like it!!!"

"I know I know lightless isn't really your shade but you HAVE to let me make you a bow with this, Mira!!"

"Ah!! If you want to!!"

"I Do!!"

"Okay!"

You pull away from the hug, glancing back at the silk. You feel your chest swell with joy!! Oh Change!! This is so much stuff! And you're still not done!

Sif looks... a little bit nervous. They shift the box they're holding in their hands and shuffle up to you. After a moment of hesitation, he holds it out.

"... Happy birthday, Isa."

You take the box with care. It's small, but heavier than you're expecting. There's a bow on top that Bonbon snatches after you take it off. All of these gifts have been a surprise! But you're really not sure what Sif got you!

You open the box.

A piece of lightless fabric sits under the lid. It's embroidered! Not perfect or flawless, but done with care. Darkless spots are scattered on its surface and in big capital letters, it reads "You're A Star!"

Oh!! You get this joke, now! It used to only make sense to Sif but you know now!! Your chest feels light. You laugh.

"There's more." They say quietly.

You nod, gingerly removing the embroidery and setting it to the side. It reveals... a wood carving!! You pull the carving from the box, turning it over in your hands. This is you!!! It's a carving of you!!

How did you not notice him working on it??

"Sif!!" You gasp, "Sif it's perfect!!!"

"O-Oh?"

"This is beautiful!!! You made this? And the patch??"

He looks away, hiding his face in his cloak, "Um... yeah."

"I love them!" You grin so wide it hurts your face, "I love you! All of you!! This is all so... ah!! I need to start thinking about gifts for your birthdays, now!!"

"How about we finish celebrating yours first?" M'dame hums.

You feel light as a feather. You love your friends - your family - more than you can say.

[bats-and-birds-24]

Marked

Bruce knew he was marked from the start.

It started as an innocent observation by his parents. A birthmark in the shape of a bat, found on their infant's back.

As he grew older, it became ironic, the boy terrified of bats with a bat shaped birthmark? Bruce didn't know if God had a sense of humor, but the devil certainly did.

After his parents' death, it became an omen. The young boys' life was mired in misery, a precursor of what was to come.

When he donned the cowl, the mark became fate. He became what he was always meant to be. He had no choice in the matter, it was as Gotham had decided.

Since the birth of the city, Gotham has been cursed, cursed to collect curses, cursed to be the definition of madness, cursed to spread its misery.

Until one day, Gotham got a gift, not nearly as powerful as her curses, but important in its own way.

It decreed that a select few of her people will be fated to stand up to the curses. They will be gifted with intelligence, strength, kindness, and luck to the point that they can cheat even death.

Most importantly, it gave them an unbending will, a drive to do good.

Gotham's curses were bound to spread.

First spreading North to Bristol then South-west to Bludhaven, until it was put to an end by Bruce.

He shut the curses' power from their source. The misery in Gotham.

As Batman, he put an end to rampant crime and made it safe to walk in the night.

As Bruce, he gave out jobs like candy, and put roofs over people's heads, and food on the table.

The creeping growth of the curses stilled. For a moment Gotham was hopeful.

But it wasn't to last, as Gotham's protectors grew stronger, its enemies did as well.

First was the Joker, who would kill with a smile, the world was made for his entertainment, and entertain him it will.

Then came Ivy, her plants and she alike, both exotic and beautiful, and deadly.

Harvey Dent's kindness and cruelty took their cues from the flip of a coin. While Scarecrow pushed fear to the limits, just to see what it could do.

Gotham sensing that her favorite son can't handle this alone, gave him his first young charge;

Dick Grayson, the happy child who once flew from trapezes, now flew in Gotham's skies, bringing hope to the poor and downtrodden.

Next was Barbara Gordon, who grew up watching her father fight crime and threw her hat into the ring as she got older.

After that was Jason Todd, who grew up in Crime Alley, he died doing his duty, but was brought back, for his work was unfinished.

Then came Tim Drake. The curious child who followed Batman and Robin with nothing but his camera and his wits.

Stephanie Brown was next, who saw her father's betrayal to the city, and in exchange, swore fealty to her.

Cassandra Cain was young, and mute, in exchange for her protection Gotham gave her a voice.

Damian Wayne, who was raised in the green and gold of assassins, who was molded from birth, was given choice.

The child who started a rebellion, Duke Thomas, who's birthright was light itself. Sparked hope in Gotham's dark.

They were all marked from the start, but the choices they made after their fate were all their own.

If Gotham made them hers, they made Gotham theirs.

[sergeantsporks]

writing request: hunter carving waffles :)

Sorry that I'm writing this over a year after you sent it. The passage of time eludes me always

xxx

“What’s that?”

Hunter quickly closed his notebook before Luz could take a peek. “Homework.”

“Uh-huh. You know, you could just say it was your diary, and I wouldn’t try to read it.”

“It’s not a diary.”

She flopped dramatically against him, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Your tortured poetry, perhaps? Or Cosmic Frontier fanfiction?”

Hunter moved to the side, letting her fall. “It’s homework. Palisman homework.”

Luz picked herself up. “Palisman homework? On paper? Are you making designs or something? I thought you just… carved.”

She wasn’t going to let up, was she? Hunter sighed, flipping the cover of his journal back and forth. “If you must know, I’m brainstorming. Dell’s dead-set on me carving my own palisman, and I’m trying to figure out what the best fit would be.”

Luz’s face softened into something that was close to pity, but felt more like understanding. “Oh,” she said simply.

It wasn’t that he necessarily OPPOSED the idea of having a palisman again. Spending time with the Bat Queen and all her abandoned palisman had opened up an ache in his chest, an ache he could only describe as ‘pining.’ He wanted a palisman so badly it hurt.

But whenever he tried to think about what that palisman would be, what he would carve, who he wanted to spend his life with, all he could think about was Flapjack. Or, when he wasn’t thinking about Flapjack, the form of his future palisman slipped outside of his grasp. All he could think about was the feeling, the connection. Like his palisman was already curled up inside of his chest, like he was already bonded to them, even though they didn’t exist.

“I’m just having trouble picturing it. Can’t think of what I want, you know?”

“A wolf?” Luz suggested.

“Maybe.”

He’d actually carved a wolf out of practice wood and gifted it to Eber—besides a songbird, it was probably the shape he was most familiar with. But holding that little wolf statue in his hands hadn’t felt right. It hadn’t clicked the way he’d always imagined finding your palisman’s shape would. He’d carved a few for others, and when the wood shaped underneath his hands, he could feel the palisman’s soul bursting through, could feel already the hum of connection with its partner. He’d seen it on his clients’ faces, too, a sort of light in their eyes. The way their faces sparked with recognition when they saw the animal carved into the wood.

“You could always carve an egg, like I did. Let them decide.”

That didn’t sound quite right either. Not that he minded his palisman choosing their own form, or that he thought Luz had picked a worse route, but he wanted to give them form. He wanted to give them something special, to handpick something just for them, something that said ‘I know what I want and I know who you are, and I’ve thought about you for so long.’

“So…” Luz tapped the journal cover. “Ideas for what it’ll be, then?”

“Some of them.” A flush crept across Hunter’s face and ears. “I’m also… brainstorming a list of things that might be my greatest wish?”

To Luz’s credit, she didn’t laugh, although her face screwed up like she was trying very hard not to. “You’re… making a list.”

Hunter nodded. “I figured I could make a list of all the things I want from life, then arrange them in tiers to narrow down which wish is most likely to wake up my palisman.”

“Uh-huh. Well—” she was trying so hard to not say something about spontaneity and living in the moment, he could see it. “—whatcha got so far? Maybe I can help.”

“It’s my greatest wish, not yours.”

“Aw, come on, two heads are better than one! I didn’t realize my greatest wish until I talked to my mom.”

“Fine. Nosy.” Hunter opened his journal. “I think—I mean, so far, I’ve mostly got what I said to Belos that night, you know? Studying wild magic, going to Hexside, playing flyer derby with my friends, learning to carve palisman… those are the things I want. But, well, I’m already accomplishing those things, you know? I’m enrolled at Hexside, Eda’s already told me I’ve got a place at the university if I want it, I play with the Entrails every other day after school, and I’m carving palisman with Dell the days I don’t practice with the Entrails. They’re still things I want, but they’re also things I’m doing.”

Frustration built up in the back of Hunter’s throat, and he ran a hand through his hair. Surely there had to be something else, something he was missing. “Belos is gone, the throne room is destroyed, so everything I used to want… it’s done! I accomplished it. I can’t use those wishes to wake up a palisman—they didn’t even work to save the palisman I had!”

The moment the words left his mouth, he froze. Luz gave him another one of those looks, those looks of terrible, sad understanding.

“Oh, Hunter—”

“I’m fine.” Hunter closed the journal again, tucking it into his schoolbag. “I’ll figure it out. I’ve got to go meet Dell.”

In reality, his carving tutoring didn’t start for another hour, but anything was better than sitting here for another second. He swung his bag over his shoulder and warped away before Luz could say anything else. He could practically hear her voice in his head, though—Hunter, what happened to Flapjack wasn’t your fault. Hunter, there was nothing you could do. Hunter, Flapjack would want you to be happy. Hunter, your wishes back then have nothing to do with healing palisman so why don’t you just use one of those perfectly-fine statements and get it over with; stop overthinking it.

Okay, the last part wasn’t Luz’s voice, but it was still true. Flapjack had chosen him based on an off-hand statement about wanting to choose his own future. He hadn’t even been talking to the palisman. Why put so much effort and time into considering the perfect wish? Because he’d watched Luz agonize over it? From what he’d heard, Willow and Gus’s palisman had chosen them quickly, with a simple statement. Why was he searching so hard for the perfect wish? The palisman wouldn’t wake up without the right words anyway—he could say whatever he wanted to them, and he’d know he’d made the true wish when they came to life.

Dell had already set aside the wood for him. A beautiful, perfect stump of palistrom, taken from one of the tree’s thick branches. The rings sat in exact circles, not a single knot or lump in the wood as far as Hunter could see. Hunter almost wished there was an imperfection in the wood. “Oops, sorry! Can’t get to work on this! Oops, it’ll take a while to sand out this knot, so why don’t we leave the whole project off for later?”

Instead, he picked up the perfect piece of wood, imagining each stroke of the chisel. Peeling back layers of wood in perfect blue curls, until the wood became…

He thought again of Flapjack, and put the wood down. He wouldn’t carve a cardinal—he knew better than anyone that it wouldn’t be the same, that a recreation of Flapjack wouldn’t be Flapjack. It would probably hurt worse to have a palisman that looked exactly like Flapjack but wasn’t, and for a brief, spiraling moment, he thought he understood how Belos had felt about him.

“Thinking about your future palisman?”

Hunter jumped at Dell’s voice, nearly knocking the wood off the table. “You’re early.”

Dell chuckled. “So are you.” He sat slowly down at the workbench, holding his cane between his hands and looking at Hunter expectantly.

“I still haven’t figured out what I want to carve.”

“I see.” Dell’s eyes twinkled. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Hunter swallowed. What secret? A carving technique? A shortcut to finding one’s deepest wish? “Of course.”

“I didn’t carve my palisman.”

It took a moment for the words to register in Hunter’s mind. Five simple words, and for a moment, they made Hunter feel like the ground had fallen away. “What?” he said finally.

“I didn’t carve my palisman,” Dell repeated easily, “She was passed onto me—she’s been in the family business for a while. The day my mother died and I inherited the carving business, she flew to my shoulder and has been there ever since. She did the same for my mother, and for her parent, and for their father before them.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Was he planning on giving his palisman to Hunter when he died? Not that Hunter minded taking care of her, but it was a heavy topic.

Dell sighed, stretching. “My palisman was passed on to me. Despite guiding many others to their heart’s desire, I’ve never had to confront my own. I’ve never been in the place you are now, trying to pick the perfect creature to carve. I can only offer the same advice I’ve offered to countless young witches trying to find their way in life.”

“Which is?”

Dell smiled, pointing his cane at Hunter’s chest. “Stop thinking with your head. Let go of the stress, the anxiety of picking something so permanent as a palisman. Still your thoughts, quiet your heart. Then, and only then, will you know what you want. Then, your palisman will find you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Take the wood home.”

“What?”

“Take it home. And your tools. No carving lesson for today.”

“I—”

“When your teacher gives you a project in school, they give you time to work on it, yes?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Today is a work day. I want you to focus on your palisman. Go.”

Focus on my palisman.

I can do this.

An hour and a half of staring at a lump of blue wood later, Hunter almost wanted to throw the palistrom through the window. He wouldn’t, of course, not after everything the species had been through, but he was very, very tempted.

Finally, he picked up the wood and his tools. “Still thoughts, quiet heart,” he breathed, “Fine. Carve. Just carve! It’s not like I’m going to wake it up right now, I’m just carving. It’s just like anyone else’s palisman, except it might maybe be mine.”

Hunter took a deep breath, and started to carve. Petals of blue shavings fell to the floor, and Hunter thought briefly of how Darius would gasp if he saw the mess. But his attention turned quickly back to the statue forming underneath his hands with every rhythmic scrape. At some point, Darius turned on the bedroom light, scolding him for how he’d strain his eyes, but Hunter barely registered the complaint. He noticed even less when Darius came back to warn him not to stay up too much later, or he’d be exhausted at school. There was only him and the palisman. Blisters rubbed onto his hands, and a dozen tiny splinters stuck in his fingers, but it wasn’t until one of the blisters popped, oozing blood and pus, that he stopped, shaken from the trance he’d fallen into.

“Ow.”

Hunter shook his hands. It wasn’t just the blisters and splinters—his hands had stiffened up from gripping the chisels and knives, sore and achy. He cautiously rubbed his eyes. When was the last time he’d blinked? The clock beeped an accusatory “5 AM” at him, and he wandered to the bathroom to take care of his injuries. First, he used tweezers to pluck out the splinters, then dressed his blisters and applied about five thousand band-aids to them. He chuckled at the sight. Back in the coven, his hands had constantly been bandaged because of blisters from training with his staff, or bruised and busted knuckles. But even in this peaceful life, it seemed he couldn’t escape the blisters and bruises.

Well, maybe you could if you stopped carving and went to bed at a reasonable time, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Darius’ said in his mind.

Hunter returned to his room, picking up the palisman.

A bird.

His heart sank, even as he kicked himself for it. Of course when he’d zoned out and emptied his mind he’d carved a bird—why had he expected anything else? Of course Flapjack was still in the front of his mind, of course he’d carve a…

Hunter realized dully that this bird wasn’t a cardinal. He hadn’t painted it yet, of course, although the blue of the wood seemed to suit it. But even so, the head swooped back instead of up, the beak was thinner, and the wings tilted down rather than back. This wasn’t the same bird.

“It’s just that I couldn’t carve the shape right,” Hunter said out loud, “I messed up. It’s not because… because…”

Had he just failed at carving a cardinal? Something about this palisman seemed different. Hunter sat it back down on his desk, resting his arms on the table’s surface and his head on his arms. Maybe it was just delirium from lack of sleep.

“You’re beautiful,” he told the bird, “I’m sure I can find you a good home—you deserve someone better than me. I mean, I didn’t even try. I just carved what I’m most familiar with. I’m sorry.” He gently brushed her—how he knew the palisman was a she, he didn’t know—beak with bandaged fingers. “I just wish…” he trailed off, fighting to stay awake. “I just wish every witch and their palisman could have what Luz and Stringbean have. What Eda and Owlbert, Amity and Ghost, Willow and Clover, and Gus and Emmiline have.” His eyes finally drifted shut, his hand still gently patting the palisman’s head. “I just wish everyone could have what Flapjack and I had,” he murmured.

Somewhere outside of the haze of sleep, Hunter heard a chirp.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

I love your Astarion work! I was curious if you could write a semi lengthy (if possible) angst/jealous Astarion x Tav/Reader??? Also hurt reader/Tav is always great too. I crave comfort lol

I hope you like it!

Rated: M

Warnings: spoilers for dark ending, transformation, vampiric

The manor is oppressive, heavy as if a ball and chain are leashed to your neck forcing you to bow, this place screams for submission. The want to give in, to let go, be controlled, dominated. It sickens you as Astarion guides you around the home of all his trauma. Naturally, you want to comfort him, hold his hand, and squeeze it to reassure him. However, this is not the time or place. The deeper you both travel into the bowels of Cazador’s palace, the heavier this weight is on your back, choking you as if you misbehaved.

Then came the cells. The sins of the past stabbed and twisted between Astarion’s ribs nicking his heart.

He is distant… You try to tell him this isn’t his fault, that Cazador is to blame. He was used just like they are.

The rules of being a vampire do not help as it is revealed what happened to Cazador’s master is part of the cycle to learn, adapt, and succeed. The rule of two where one will kill the other and repeat the cycle with another. The throne of blood you pray Astarion wants nothing to do with as he sees what is the cost of power.

The Black Mass is unholy and you silently pray to Lathander for his radiance to shine and burn that bastard Szarr to ashes.

Wishful thinking as the moment you enter the ritual chambers things go south, fast.

With now all seven of his spawn, he is strong-- Stronger and though using the spells and holy water do weaken him (barely), he is stronger than most foes.

"Perhaps after my ascension, I shall take your spawn friend as my own." The taunt is spoken during the battle as you struggle to keep up and your hirelings are spread out fighting the summoned bats, werewolves, and ghouls. The words are intended to be salt upon the wound as Astarion is helpless to fight against his master and this ritual. The screams do not help, the blood in the air does not help, and…

You… Are afraid.

This is too close to what happened to you, at the temple of Kanchelsis. Your master was pleased to watch as you writhed in agony as you turned into the beast you are. A vampire who shares the bestial madness of a werewolf.

Being tossed into a column like nothing as the vampire lord takes special interest in attacking you. Your body is in pain, bruises with internal bleeding, and the mental fear is keeping you on the ground struggling to get up. The laugh echoes, your vision blurring, and when you blink you… See your master standing above you with the bat-shaped head of the staff making you tilt your head up.

“Stay right there.”

He… He is going to win… He is going to ascend…

He is going to kill Astarion!

You must push on! Every muscle in your body protesting as you get up, your blood spilling as your form shifts to that beast, bigger, deformed, and grotesque. The whispers of the dark father in the back of your mind as you roared like a beast unleashed from its cage. Jaheira had been teaching you druidic magic as it seemed you had a talent for it. Seems that comes from the beast within, it hungers and Cazador looks like the perfect toy to chew on.

There is a cost, you know it, this power is tapping into the essence of vampirism. The beast, the hunger that comes with the gift and blessing of Kanchelsis; that cost you care not about, not now. No longer will you allow yourself to be chained down by the memories of the years of torture and abuse!

Astarion needs you, you need him, and you need each other.

Damn the cost! Damn this place, damn everything!

The beast roars with rage! An animal instinct as it recognizes Astarion as the mate, a mate in danger.

The slaughter is fighting to this bat-shaped form you are in, Cazador can’t keep up even in his mist form. When you try to rip his head off or attempt to fly and grab him; he knows how to flee.

“Scurry and scatter like rats!” Your voice is not your own, it is the beast that relishes in the hunt this lordling provides.

There are points when you blackout, in and out of a waking dream, then when the bloodlust no longer consumes your body and mind. Your body is back to normal but the wounds are worse, you need blood soon in order to properly heal.

“Wake up!”

Astarion. The sigh of relief hurts though it is being healed, well attempted to, away by the hireling cleric. Your eyes watch the scene of long-awaited and overdue revenge take place.

“I need your help.” His voice does not hide the desperation, the need.

This was your warning, you should have told him to stop or… You can’t raise a claw against him. There is too much between you to end it with steel or claw. So your eyes and mind are his to see through.

It is through those he seals his fate and the fate of seven thousand souls.

[archangeldyke-all]

my first request without anon, cause I feel brave today

that is gonna be so fluff, what do you think about making some targets for family (celebrating Christmas) and reader use glitter and sev is complaining cause is messy HSHSH and the tap just pops, Flys idk who say this and just sevika in glitter reader in glitter everything in glitter

I just think this can be soooo cute

like they laugh and that hah

thanksss🫶🏻🫶🏻

ahahhahaa i loveee glitter this is perfect.

men and minors dni

it's a sunday, and you and sevika are getting ready for the week ahead.

with the holidays coming up, you're assembling gifts and envelopes and holidays greetings cards for all you and sev's friends and family. you've taken over sevika's home office, and every surface is covered in wrapping paper, gifts, cards, and bows.

sevika's doing her weekly vacuum around the house, collecting the dust and crumbs that gathered over the week.

you're so distracted by your work and the christmas music playing throughout the office, that you don't notice when the whir of the vacuum stops.

you don't notice sevika's approaching footsteps, or the click of the office door as she swings it open.

you're trying to open a bottle of glitter to sprinkle on top of the dollop of glue you've placed over all your greeting card's rudolph's noses. just for a little extra pizzazz.

sevika catches you red handed, literally.

"hey babe, you wanna get take out fr-- oh, fuck no!" she says as she catches you. you glance up from behind her desk.

"what?" you ask, innocently batting your eyes.

sevika hates glitter. she hates how it gets everywhere, how it's impossible to get rid of, how it clings to everything for weeks and weeks and weeks.

"you know what, where did you even get that?! i thought i threw out all your glitter!" she huffs as she storms over to the desk, trying to snatch the container out of your hands. you squeal and take off and sevika chuckles as she chases after you.

"you did throw all my glitter out, and you broke my heart in the process!" you say as you enter the kitchen. sevika laughs.

"so you decided to buy more? knowing how much i hate that shit?"

"i didn't think you'd catch me!" you pout as you sevika backs you up into a corner. "i just want to make rudolph's nose sparkle!"

"i can't believe you." she says as she reaches forward to grab the bottle. you keep your grip on it, and you and sevika enter a tug of war with the bottle. "let go!" she laughs. you huff.

"but i already put all the glue on the cards so now it'll just be globby glue instead of beautiful shimmering red on his nose! hasn't rudolph already been through enough, being bullied all his life?"

sevika laughs and swoops in to kiss you. "you're cute." she mumbles against your lips. you sigh and smile, your grip on the glitter relaxing.

except, sevika hasn't relaxed her grip. so when you let go, the glitter tube that had been crushed in your shared struggle suddenly pops back into its original shape.

and as it pops back, the cap flies off.

a cloud of dazzling, sparkling glitter fills your kitchen.

and then it settles.

sevika is covered in red glitter. head to toe. you gawk at her. she takes a deep breath.

"that did not just happen." she whispers.

you burst into laughter as you reach up to brush some glitter away from your wife's face. sevika's frozen, like if she moves it'll somehow make the glitter worse.

"'s what you get for bein' a grinch!" you faux scold as you continue to laugh and brush your wife clean. she huffs a chuckle, and a puff of glitter escapes from between her lips. this makes you double over, giving up your task to grab onto the counter top as laughter over takes you.

sevika's silently giggling too, you can tell from the way her stomach's twitching and her shoulders are bobbing. when you finally right yourself again and you meet her eyes, you both burst into another round of laughter.

"it's not funny!" sevika says through her giggles. you sputter. "i just vacuumed." she pouts. you lean forward to press a kiss to her lips, cringing as the teeny tiny grains of glitter coat your lips.

sevika wraps her arms around you and pulls you towards her. you squeak and struggle in her grasp, but it's futile, and soon she's got you in a bear hug, all the glitter on her body now clinging to yours too. you groan in her arms but wrap your arms around her anyways.

"you're lucky you're cute." sevika mumbles. you laugh.

"lemme go get the hairdryer, it'll blow all this off." you say. sevika nods, but doesn't let go of you yet. instead, she leans forward and kisses you again.

"love you, you maniac." she whispers against your lips. you chuckle.

"love you too, rudolph." you say. sevika groans and smacks your ass.

"fucker. you're vacuuming this." she says. you roll your eyes and pout.

"fine. but i get to use what's left in the jar on the cards." you say. sevika huffs and rolls her eyes, but relents.

"fine." she grumbles. you grin and kiss her again.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666

[or0ch1maru]

How about a y/n who likes collecting things? Pretty rocks, feathers, or buttons? (or even stuffed animals?) Would the Akatsuki find this cute? Or maybe a waste of time?

This my loves is what I like to call crow brain. See something pretty, you pocket it 🥺

I swear you must live in my walls or something because this^ this right here is me. My dresser is covered in rocks, acorns, and other cute things I’ve collected over the years hehe. (im also a huge stuffy collector🥺)

•

•the first time they notice you pick up and pocket a cool looking rock, you received a few curious glances

• “it was pretty” you reply with a shrug before getting back to the business at hand

•another time, they caught you picking up something off the ground, when asked what it was, you showed the red, heart shaped button off proudly, a smile that reached your eyes plastered across your face

•then, there was the time you and the rest of the Akatsuki ventured into the Hidden Rain to meet with your leader and his right hand woman

•a few wanted to stop by a small convenience store for a drink after the tedious travel so while you waited for them to finish, you did a little shopping of your own, but not for food, or a drink

•as you stood outside the small and now crowded shop, your eyes fell on an antique store across the way

•while your team was distracted, you bolted across the wet road, arm held over your head to shield you from the never ending rain, eyes falling on a rather worn, and raggedy looking teddy bear. One that was well loved by its past owner, that is now in need of a new one

•you opted out of needing a bag for your new friend and walked out with the bear tucked under your arm, using your cloak to shield him from the weather

•by now, your comrades have gotten used to this, and don’t really bat an eye when they see you pick up or buy something completely random

•so when you met back up with the team, nobody even as much raised an eyebrow at the item you’re holding against your side

•one evening, you were perched on your bed, painting your nails your designated dark purple color when a knock came through

• “come in” you replied cheerfully as you brushed a streak across your big toe, tip of your tongue poking out in concentration

• “here” you lift your head when you hear Deidara’s voice. Your eyes drift to his outstretched palm, a shiny blue colored stone sitting near the mouth that’s in the middle of his palm

•you nearly flew into his arms in excitement, a wide smile as you take in his gesture of kindness

• “I love it, thanks dei” you replied happily, taking the stone from him and walking towards the shelves that sit against the wall to the left of you

•he lets out a satisfied ‘hmph’ as he watches you place the rock towards the front of a shelf, sitting beside all the other things you’ve collected or have been gifted to by fellow members

•like the soft, yet elegant pale green and white feather Konan brought to you a month ago

•or a handful of Pilea peperomiodes that sit in a pot that Tobi hand picked for you somewhere outside only yesterday

•or the single 5 leaf clover that Kisame and Itachi stumbled across on a mission last week

•little do you know, anytime your comrades leave for a mission, one of the first things they do when they leave, is look for something you might like, your habit rubbing off on them

•even if it’s as little as a cool looking rock or

•a cute stuffed animal in a store they happened to visit while away

[ratsummer]

Something I've been thinking about recently is Copia being a very thoughtful gift giver. He's extremely observant and a great listener, so his gifts are usually not what anyone expected, but just what they needed. Since adjusting to life in the ministry can be very difficult, especially for ghouls, especially for band ghouls, Copia has given many personalized comfort items to newcomers.

When Phantom is new, he's obviously a very sweet and lovey ghoul, but unaccustomed to actually receiving the affection he's wanted for so long. Sometimes, being around all the ghouls at once is overwhelming for him, even though he wants so badly to fit in and be accepted by his new pack. Copia, always watching with a careful and caring eye, sees the tight set to his shoulders when he's laughing a little too late at one of Swiss's jokes, or at the way he wrings his hands and holds himself very still when Dew leans in to help him read his music. He looks happy, but also stressed and so, so tired. So, Phantom gets a gift.

The gift maybe doesn't seem like much, to the average onlooker. Perhaps even childish. It's a stuffed animal, a bat. Cartoonishly cute, it has little black embroidered eyes and felt fangs poking out of its soft, round snout. It's not huge, maybe the size of a basketball, but stretched out a bit. It has a good weight to it, stuffed with thousands of tiny beads that help hold it's shape, but also mold into curves. When he holds it, it fits comfortably into the curve of his arm and chest, making Phantom feel a little bit like he's holding a chunky, sturdy little kit.

It's almost downy soft, not fuzzy, exactly, but very plush. It has a barely-noticable "right" and "wrong" way to pet it, so that stroking down its back feels just right, but stroking against the grain tickles Phantom's palms in a sort of mesmerizing way.

The fun part is the stuffy's wings. They wrap nice and tight around its body if Phantom wants, securing with cute little star-shaped buttons. They're kind of overstuffed along the main part of the limb, though, so when unbuttoned they stay spread out like the little bat is flying. If he lays with the bat on his chest, the wings drape nicely over his shoulders. They also have little hidden pouches in them, where Phantom can tuck away little treasures, herbal sachets from Mountain, or small cloths with pack-scent on them to help him adjust when he's not feeling up to a ghoul pile.

Needless to say, Phantom carries his little bat almost everywhere with him. It sits in his guitar case during practice. It sits on his lap during mass. Sometimes, he sneaks it into someone's nest for a couple hours so when he gets it back it will smell like them. When he's tired but can't quite get to sleep, holding his bat close to his chest and nuzzling its head soothes him enough to let him drift off. When he's going somewhere new for the first time, petting its wings surrounds him with a familiar, safe smell.

A few days after getting his bat, Phantom is like a whole new ghoul! He opens up more each day, gaining confidence to be his silly, chaotic self. Many would find it hard to believe such a drastic transformation from shy, nervous new summon to goofy, loud little quint could happen in such a short period of time, but then...

Copia is very good at giving gifts.

[eldritch-spouse]

[Part 5 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: Grimbly (56.7%)

TW: Creepy one-sided mommy kink, later becomes mutual.

New choice! [VOTE]

When your leg lightly pokes the smaller monster, his previously cute expression morphs into a smarmy, gross smirk.

" Hah. Looks like you might wanna reconsider. " His hands are on his waist as he regards the wraith.

" Fool. They're not in the right mind to be making decisions. " The other counters.

" Mm. Cope harder. "

No matter how hard you try to keep your eyelids open, they flutter repeatedly, eventually shutting for good. Your consciousness fades on Morell's chopping table.

...

There's a chirp. Then another. You hear something rushing nearby. A liquid. The noise, paired with a slight chilly sensation, becomes uncomfortable, forcing you to gradually wake up.

Eyes eventually parting, the shapes of the revolving world finally begin to make sense, and you find yourself in a garden. Not just any garden, the same one where all this madness started. Alertness seeping back into your form, wary hues scatter until they find a fountain.. If you can call it that. Yes, it's not exactly standard. The thing takes on a strange, bent shape which seems to loop in itself like an optical illusion designed to confound the mind. Water rushes down its sides, then up, then diagonally- Like it's crawling around it, alive. You'd imagine this is what a being who has never seen a fountain in their life would make, putting aside the way this thing very clearly defies physics.

You've been around here for a while however, and as such, you know better than to question the logistics of this location. The how and why of this reality is irrelevant. Nevertheless, the sound of water cascading and dripping aimlessly is the least bit soothing to your overworked, stressed brain, so, with a quiet sigh, you glance at the flowers who have been chirping all this time- Swaying and twirling at each other as if to communicate. To think those things have teeth. That they bit you. Cursed garden indeed...

" It's beautiful in its own way, right? "

Your heart, that poor, miserable organ which has been tested thoroughly throughout this entire day, threatens to leap out your ribcage for what feels like the hundredth time.

" Geez silly, it's just me. "

Bulging eyeballs zero in on the monster sitting next to you. Grimbly... Ah yes! The one you picked, good. He's far too close, thigh brushing yours actually. How had you not noticed him before? Shortly after this initial observation, you realize you're on a bench, and a quick self-check reveals that you're wearing an entirely different get-up. In fact, you're clad in what looks to be a pastel pink Summer dress with subtle floral patterns. Huh. Well, you suppose it's better than torn, bloodied scraps?

The bat monster notes your disoriented staring and pipes up. " Ah, I hope you don't mind. It's just, you looked so bad in that trash, I found something much better for you. " Bright magenta hues almost seem to sparkle at you. " You love it, don't you? "

Yeah, sure. You love being minimally covered. Now that you think about it, he must have undressed and garbed you himself while you were out cold. Slimy fucker. Regardless, a free dress is a free dress, so you nod cautiously.

" Yay. I'm really glad, mommy! "

Fucking what now?

You give the monster a subtle side-glance. This is a grown adult. He may be small in stature but this is definitely an adult. There is no way in Heaven or Hell he's actually mistaking you for his mother, this is very clearly a "thing". A thing he's involved you in without asking. God damn it, and here you thought this one could be slightly more normal. Serves you right.

" Uhum. " Because what else are you supposed to say? That he's a creepy loser? So are the others. You can only hope that he's a less powerful creepy loser. Hell, if all he wants to do is pretend you're his "mommy" and have you pet his head, then you'll consider yourself very lucky.

Wary eyes glance around again. It's noon-ish? Indeed, between being inside, with all that ruckus and calamity, you much prefer this twisted garden. You can still hear people in the vicinity, but nowhere near the amount indoors. All the chattering, cackling and yelling was getting in your brain far before you were even handed to Morell like a tasty morsel. This... This is much better, it has saved you from a pounding headache, and your body is only somewhat sore. You must not have slept on this bench.

Hold on.

You're in the garden. And what a large garden it is- But that's hardly the point! What matters is that, if you can get this one off your hairs, you could maybe try to find a way out of here. After all, if you're fast enough, clever and quiet like a mouse, would it truly be impossible to just leave? There has to be an exit. Somewhere. For all intents and purposes, this is the closest you've been to freedom ever since being dumped here by the Icon of carnality. Yes... Good.

A small weight on top of your right hand jolts you. You didn't even realize you had them fisted around the hems of your dress until he gently grasped one. Forcing a deep breath out of your lungs, you meet his big, rounded eyes.

" I know your day has been tough so far. How are you feeling now? "

That calm breath was fruitless, for those words alone instill insurmountable tension within you. How dare he? How are you feeling?! Fucking hopeless, how about that! Tarnished. Frightened. Panicked. You want out. You just want out. You want to go home, you want to see your family and you want to pretend that none of this happened. That you weren't picked to be some appetizer, some distraction brought on by a demonlord.

Tears slide down your cheeks faster than you realize you're crying.

" Oh. Oh no, please don't cry mommy, I didn't mean to- I promise! "

Grimbly scoots even closer, smaller, four-fingered hands reaching for your cheeks and softly wiping away the waterworks. Although you freeze, expecting some sort of catch behind the act, he only spares you a soft smile. Before sitting sideways on your lap that is. Ugh.

" It's okay, you don't need to cry anymore. You have me now, after all. " The bat half-jokes, earning only a sniffle in return as you try to gather your bearings.

Shaky hands hover, having nowhere to poise, until the waiter rolls his bright eyes and grabs them, manually wrapping them around himself in a clumsy embrace. He's smooth, surprisingly soft. " We can talk about anything you want, okay? "

What is there to talk about, your cynical side snarks. Yet, if he's responsive to conversation, for whatever reason, then maybe you can make the most out of it.

" How many floors are there in this building? "

" It depends. " Grimbly shrugs. " Today there's extra ones, because we're kinda flooded with clients. I just hope they don't rush to the aquarium, serving there is no fun, everything's wet and slippery and I don't know how to swim. "

" Do you know how to swim, mommy? "

Your eyelid twitches. " ... Yes. "

The monster gasps. " Oh! Can you teach me someday? "

You don't even know if you'll make it past today. " Uh, sure. "

God, this is awkward.

The waiter purrs loudly, exactly like an overgrown kitten, as he dips his face into your chest, struggling with his own horns. " Thank you! " He's nuzzling, you can feel the pointed tips of those fangs dragging on your skin as he tries to shove his face on your tits. You've no doubt he picked a dress with significant cleavage for this very reason. You don't think too much of your chest, but he seems fixated on it nonetheless.

Silent, passive seconds pass. You're not too sure what you signed up for before passing out, though, thinking back on it, maybe you made the right choice? The mysterious figure in the hood was so ominous, at least this one seems way less intense. Clingy definitely, but way less intimidating.

" You're so nice... " The monster attempting to become one with your tits purrs in a saccharine tone.

" Am I? " A sort of corrosive dryness seeps from you. Your patience for games is dwindling.

" Yeah. You're not like the other ones. " Grimbly hugs you tight, sighing in a way that sounds much too infatuated while he adjusts his position on your lap, tail swatting behind his lithe figure. " You're not screaming, trying to run, or calling me names- I knew I was right when I said you were special. "

Maybe you're just too tired to do those things. Or, better yet, you know it would worsen your chances of survival. The urge to yell and flail is right around the corner, but so it the other voice asking you if you'd like to live to see another day.

" You're perfect. " He swoons, shifting his legs on your lap. " You love me already, don't you? "

Your chin is grasped, forcing you to face the hysterical-looking monster on top of you. Ah. So you were wrong. He's not any safer than the other ones, in fact, he's apparently a lot less stable. Something in the blade-thin pupils of those sweet round eyes tells you it's a horrible idea to antagonize him.

" O- Of course. " You stammer, trying to smile in a comforting way but very aware that your discomfort is shining through crystal clear. Grimbly tilts his head expectantly, and your eyelid twitches a little. " ... Sweetie. " For good measure, you give him a couple of pats on the head.

It seems you've gouged what he wanted correctly, because the waiter relaxes, leaning into the touch. " I knew it. " He lilts. It almost feels threatening.

You try to focus on the relatively calm surroundings, hearing some flapping and thumping in the distance. Not for long however, because a claw hooks onto the front of your dress and slips your tits out. You can only tense, observing the small bat hybrid excite himself with the sight of them. It certainly doesn't help that the slight breeze has your nipples rock hard like pointers. Small hands practically dart to hold your now exposed breasts, the touch greedy and self-serving more than anything. He's clearly not intending to massage you, more so rolling them for his own lurid entertainment.

A not half bad suggestion crosses your mind. What if... What if you used his own kink against him for a second? Would that work? Worth a try.

" Grimbly! " You call sternly, making the hypnotized monster blush and jump slightly. " What do you think you're doing?! Is this any way to behave? " A small part of you writhes, cringing.

" Buh- "

" But nothing. " You insist.

The smaller monster's face goes from velvet to crimson, although whether that's good or bad is up in the air. He covers his groin, expression deflating. For a moment, you almost believe he's going to come to his senses and let it die, your expectations are shifted upside down when he gives you a teary-eyed look.

" But I was so good! " His fists ball. " I didn't touch you while I was dressing you up even if I wanted to so bad! " A shiver crawls up your spine. " I'm being good for you! Aren't I? "

No. But the way the pitch in his voice rises makes you second-guess the effectiveness of pursuing this. " Mommy, why are you being so mean to me?! "

God, he's creepy.

Fine then, he wants you to play nice? Might as well get this over with.

Rolling your eyes, you shove his face between your tits, snickering at the surprised yelp he lets out, which very quickly morphs into a content murr. Those threatening pinprick points you can only guess function as fangs drag across the sensitive tissue of your breasts, and you vaguely wonder if he's going to bite at any point. Puncture into your chest. The mental image makes you shudder. His arms dart to squeeze the soft skin around himself more, and you take advantage of it by sliding a hand right down his body, to the sopping wet slit he tried to hide before.

Grimbly whimpers.

You don't know what to make of this guy.

He's definitely desperate, and even if he's got admittedly adorable looks, his attitude is invasive and abrasive. You can see through his little disguise, or maybe he's just become sloppy in his excitement, but this little fucker is toxic enough to smell. You'll have to be careful with him. For now though, you can afford being a little rougher. You deserve it even, after all that's happened to you. It's a miracle your poor body isn't sore. It should be.

With little to no hesitation, you slip two fingers into that eager hole, getting rewarded with moans that the monster tries to muffle against your skin, now merely holding onto you. The way you pump them is merciless, fingerfucking that pouch and ignoring the swollen cock begging to be freed. The bat's legs twitch, parting, his claws digging into your sides.

" Ghh- " He tries to form a sad excuse of a word, but you don't relent, getting some kicks out of torturing him this way. The sound of his slit greedily swallowing your fingers is lewd and loud.

" Mm, what was that? " You cruelly egg.

" Ngh- Mommy- "

" Yeah? " Grimbly makes another senseless noise and tries to buck into your motions. Your placid hand rises to grab him by the hip, and although you didn't expect it, you're able to keep him perfectly still. Or maybe he's letting you? You sense you have more strength over him.

" Words. " You demand.

" P- Please- Please let it out! It hurts- I need it! "

Your digits all but rip out of his hole, leaving it flexing solemnly before a short chubby cock pokes out. A smooth and slick member bobs in the air, featuring a tapered tip. He's the smallest you've seen today, but that's actually quite comforting. Just enough to make you feel good, and not have to worry about how your body is even accommodating it. Again, you're sure Vesper tampered with you in unwanted ways.

Not giving the needy waiter a moment of respite, you fist your hand around his pretty dick, pumping him fast and hard, occasionally stopping to toy with the odd tip and figuring out what feels best there. The monster atop you twitches and gasp, legs jerking while his body juggles excess sensation. But by God, if the look on his face isn't one of pure ecstasy, open-mouthed and eyes rolled, blinking with each new flare of heat.

It feels good to finally exert some sort of power over someone here. You're not foolish enough to believe you're safe, much less that you can intimidate this odd monster, but you can trick your desperate sense of control, pet it like one would a frightened animal, whisper that everything is fine- Because here you are, making the waiter choke on his own pleasured noises.

Some mean, wounded part of you wants to make Grimbly come from a harsh, merciless handjob. You want him to quiver and soak himself hopelessly, experience just a taste of the powerlessness you've been restricted to since the beginning of this cursed game, this obscene adventure born out of the depths of the Icon of Lust's debased psyche. You want to make sure he reaches that precious peak of pleasure, and then rip all touch away, see him buck like a stupid animal after your hand, cry and strangle out noises of despairing frustration as his orgasm is ruined.

For a brief instant, you stun yourself with the peculiar nature of your desires. You never once experienced a need to be so domineering and cruel... This place is sinking its filthy claws in your brain and it hasn't even been a full day yet. It's a horrifying possibility. Besides, you don't think it'd be a particularly bright idea to feed those urges.

" O-Ohn- N- Not yet! "

The waiter's ambiguous whining forces you to attention. He's thrashing a bit more, no longer the simple squirming of an overstimulated body but genuine attempts to halt things. You stop the moment he taps at your hand insistently.

Grimbly sighs, offering you a glazed smile. " I don't want to come yet, mommy. Not without you... "

Although the look he puts on is cute, you're too riled up to give him any leash, sliding him off your legs and placing him down with jarring ease. He weighs so little, it's bizarre, he definitely doesn't feel that light, and your upper body strength isn't anything to gawk at either. Huh. While he observes you vapidly, the dress is hiked up as you shift to straddle the small monster instead.

He's positively dwarfed by you, which is equal parts satisfying and arousing. The crimson burn on his cheeks agrees completely.

Although you hover tantalizingly over Grimbly's twitching cock, you don't touch or line the monster up with you, enjoying the frustrated brow crease wrinkling his otherwise smooth features. When the bat cares to look up from between plush legs, he finds you boring holes into him.

" A- Ah! " He flusters, breaking eye contact.

" What do you want? "

" Mmm... I want- " Magenta orbs flicker between the sight of your bare pussy to your eyes, begging wordlessly.

" You want? " Grabbing his member, you don't offer the bat any stimulation, even as his legs tremble and he bites his lips at the feeling of your pussy lips juuust grazing his tip.

" Please mommy! " He whines loud and high.

You actually can't contain the laugh that rips out your throat. " Please what? "

Grimbly cracks, voice acquiring a growled edge that wasn't there before. " I want your pussy! I want mommy's sweet pussy I Hhng- "

Gross. You sink onto him like an anchor.

A risky move, but fortunately, he's small enough that it went smoothly. While you blink and gasp in strong shocks of pleasure, Grimbly cries out like a needy whore, and you bet at least some people inside that blasted building heard it. Let them hear, fuck it.

He's still panting by the time dark hands hold onto your hips, throbbing inside you. Pent up little man, you doubt he'll last much longer. Drunk on the control, you can't take much more stillness, starting to ride the monster as hard as you know he wants it.

Grimbly's eyes widen and his mouth parts soundlessly, you grab the back of the bench to support yourself and grin as you fuck down onto his pretty cock, shivering at every choked out whimper he offers. What a pretty slut, maybe that's what the other ones saw when they took you. And you can't blame them for being weak to it.

The monster clips out moans with each bounce, your legs more powerful than his, jostling his lithe figure somewhat the harder you crash onto him. It's addicting, something you never thought you'd need so bad. Chasing your own pleasure becomes a secondary goal, overshadowed entirely by wanting to ruin the winged monster beneath you.

Grimbly seems entirely hypnotized by the sway of your tits, it would almost be hilarious if it didn't help make you feel so gorgeous and desired. One palm leaves the discolored bench to shove his face directly against your boobs, hearing him groan in rapture. The waiter boy gets to work fast, rolling a slick tongue around your nipple and kissing from one to the other, only ever stopping to drool and moan out what could be mindless pleas.

You don't ever slow down.

Fevered with a foreign sense of glee, Grimbly's ripped back from your now soaked tits by the horns, you dip to share a domineering kiss with him, giggling into his mouth, peeling away only to stuff two fingers between his lips. He sucks on them automatically, and your hips snap as harshly as you can when he bites down, breaking the skin. The slight bit of alarm such sudden pain causes you is shadowed by curiosity -Then realization- As you see Grimbly swallow what few rivulets of blood he can leech out of you.

Vampiric. There's something you didn't see coming.

Apparently, the view of you flushed and debased above him, paired with the flavor of your blood and the delicious clench of your cunt around him is the perfect recipe for the monster to see stars, a mangled feminine cry released past your fingers as he seizes and pistons up pointlessly, his orgasm taking hold of him by the neck. Even then, only you remain in control, deciding how hard to milk his poor cock and taking every last bit of cum as deep as possible.

You only slow down when Grimbly begins crying and begging you for a break. Even still, you'd love to continue torturing him, maybe wring a second one out of his mess of a body. You allow yourself a couple of deep, calming breaths, trying to gather your mind in the haze of unfulfilled pleasure. Gentle palms scritch at the bat's chin and cheek, earning a satisfied, adorable purr.

" Mommy y-you... " He starts, when you rise off his spent cock, wiping some of his own seed on him with no shame. " You didn't get to come. "

" I'll live. " You shrug, watching him slump. Truth be told, your legs are a little sore from being tense with need all this time, from deliberately cunt-teasing yourself, but it's better this way.

While Grimbly slumps onto the wood of the bench and catches his breath, you focus on standing up to straighten the dress, comb over your hair, make sure the bleeding stopped, cover your breasts and think.

Your limbs are free, you're clothed and he's disoriented. The surroundings are basically devoid of others, it's calm. If ever there was a golden opportunity to dash away, this would be it. Hesitating, you glance this way and that, trying to estimate how far the garden stretches, if there's anything like gates in the distance. Which would be the fastest way out for that matter? There's almost a sort of smog effect in the air. Truth be told, the more time you spend out there, the less you like it, the more you feel like you shouldn't be here at all.

Which is true, you never should have been anywhere near this fucking hellpit. But it wasn't your choice now, was it?

Lacking any sort of direction, bare feet step onto the stone pathway that you assume leads North. It's hard to tell given how late it's getting and how blurred the sky appears from here.

You don't make it past three steps.

Something coils around your wrist, yanking hard. When you lose balance, stumbling, Grimbly meets your curved form with an eerie deadpan. When had the little shit gotten up? You didn't hear a thing! Your blood freezes.

" Where do you think you're going, mommy? "

" N-Nowhere, baby boy. " You try, as clear a lie as it is.

The bat tuts. " I really thought you loved me, you know? " It's ominous that you can't tell how serious he's being right now.

In seconds, more of a blink really, you're flung onto the very same bench. It takes a couple of stunted, very slow moments, for your brain to click that- Yes, the short thing you easily lifted minutes ago did, in fact, just launch you around like you weigh less than a feather.

You knew it was too good to hope that Grimbly was nothing more than a frail-armed little pipsqueak...

You try to stand again, jolted by pain on your right arm, which took the brunt of the impact. Something can be heard rolling on the stony ground, and when you think to track the waiter, his long tail slides an object from behind that twisted fountain. A transparent spherical shape is snatched in a four-fingered hand, you can spot something alive writhing within it. Fear starts taking a hold of you.

Grimbly unscrews the container and promptly discards the top half, by the time you realize it's imperative to start running, something foreign and wet has collided with your turning body. Frantic, you find... Strings? Tubes? Worms? Oh God, that's disgusting, they're alive and squirming like tentacles, what the fuck are you even looking at?

The purple and blue-ish things sprout to action upon the first blind palping of your skin, wrapping around your upper body tightly and latching wetly onto the back of the bench, jarringly forcing you to sit. It happens so fast that all you can do is bleat in terror and shake your head. The things pulse around your arms and torso, featuring a heartbeat of their own, invasively caressing your form. Your strength is moot against them, there's very little give no matter how hard you flex.

Panic-stricken, you can only look to Grimbly for answers. He appears perfectly calm, having taken the time to clean himself while you were bound.

" See? This is what happens when I can't trust you, mommy. " He pouts. " Trust is the foundation of every good relationship, you know? "

" What- What the fuck are you doing? "

" Nothing! " The waiter perks up, trotting over to your form and placing a light kiss on your forehead. You openly glare at him. " I need you to stay right here for me while I take care of some things in the restaurant, okay? "

" Yay! I'll be right back! After all, we aren't done. " The bat winks, seeming very excited even as he zooms past you. The last thing you hear from him being no more than a rushed- " Don't miss me too much! "

It takes a long while before you realize he wants an actual answer, to which you groan and nod, furious.

A tired, drawn-out sigh flows out your lips.

How many more times will you have to be tied up in a single day? It's getting ridiculous. From present wrapping to ropes to whatever these organic constructs twined around you are. It just gets worse and worse, doesn't it?

Minutes pass. Darkness starts to creep in. You have no way of telling the time and have long since stopped trying to twist out of the tendrils. Or bite them off. You really wish you could hit your head against the wall, maybe drag the bench out with you, but it's firmly planted into the pathway.

There's nothing to do except stare longingly at the open garden, freedom taunting you like the cruel mistress it is. To think that if, maybe, if you hadn't hesitated, put thought into it, you could have been a great distance away from here already... Miserable.

You're trying to roll your shoulders against the oppressive force of the mass around you when the sound of chatter becomes louder. Footsteps, laughter, shouting. Monsters. People are exiting to the outside area of the building. Perhaps for an event? You can't tell, but it's not important.

What matters is that you can't be seen by groups right now, especially defenseless as you are. That'll be your death sentence, the final chapter of your life's book. More alert than ever before, you start squirming in earnest. Like Hell Grimbly's coming for you. You're fucked!

" Damn it! Stupid fucking things- "

Your aggravated growl rings out as you kick and jerk pointlessly, only serving to tire yourself out. Eventually, a forced sense of calmness, resignation effectively, takes hold. You slump without grace and allow the back of your head to rest on the uncomfortable metal frame supporting the wooden bench. When your eyes open, expecting to see nothing but the distorted sky's bleeding hues, two monsters stare down at you from the rooftop of the gothic infrastructure.

No... That's a monster with two heads. A winged, horned monster with paper bags covering its two heads. One of which has a hole ripped onto it, a red glow coming from within.

The fuck is that one supposed to be?

You squint. Demon? But what is he doing on the roof? In spite of the darkening surroundings, you catch glimpses of blue skin, spotted and sprinkled along his bulky body in a pattern that's not too distinct from the one on the stone paths on the ground... Oh.

Oh. It's a gargoyle. Wow. You never actually saw one of those before in your life. They're not very common. Did he... Are the bags stuck on his heads? Is he meant to have two heads?

Momentary shock set aside, it dawns on you that this monster has been curiously eyeing you for a while now. You have no idea for how long he's been staring, perched there silently like a vulture. Perhaps he's hungry, and you're starting to look like a decent appetizer to him. An easy kill. Trepidation has you gulping, though as soon as you open your mouth to try and communicate with him, ready to have to beg if need be, a grating chorus scrapes at your brain.

Another voice joins the choir of strangers conversing not too far away, this one much more obnoxious and harsh, drowning out all the others. The clicking of boots can be heard.

" Can you believe that's all they had for a starter? Absolutely disgraceful! And to think I've been hearing about this dump like it's the be all end all of recreational establishments- I've seen better entrées in the slop bucket shitheaps of Gluttony! "

Oh, there's that headache you were fearing.

" ... Yes, m'lord. "

Two figures approach faster than the rest of the crowd.

One is a towering, very pale demon with sharp facial features and a completely ridiculous attire. The cape is just the cherry on top. Nevertheless, the fact that he's accompanied by a golden-eyed imp in a dress, looking bored out of her mind, must mean he's of some relevance. You glance between the small four-horned demoness and the one ranting angrily as they settle far too close to you for comfort.

The imp takes out a cigarette from her black dress' pocket and lights it to her red lips. She can definitely see you sweating bullets, though just as clearly doesn't give half a fuck. The other one is still much too busy yapping to no one, eyes cast elsewhere.

" I'm not staying here all day, I have better things to do with my time, I'm not like those abject failures getting ruined in there- It's madness, this whole thing! I can't believe I agreed to it in the first place. Are you even listening?! "

The servant jolts, choking on her cigarette for a second as the distant haze fades from her eyes. " H-Huh? Yes, yes of course your majesty! "

Majesty... Uh oh.

You remember the gargoyle above you, checking to see if he's still there. Surprise surprise, he is. Exactly in the same spot, though a lot more tense in the vicinity of this new pair. Between this dubiously intentioned gargoyle and the guy nagging at his imp, you're not sure who to reach out to for help.

Neither option is particularly appealing.

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I know I did this with the Narnia characters but this is such a cute idea and I love the thought of someone giving Daryl a pretty rock...oh and some are gemstone rocks, others are just rocks from the ground that look cool or have a nice design

Warnings: swears (I like swearing)

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

𝐆𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐧

・You had been on a run when you came across a spiritual shop. 

・One of those businesses full of gemstones 

・For some reason, you stopped and looked at all the options (not many people thought rocks would be important nor useful in an apocolypse)

・Each section had its name and meaning written underneath 

・Your eyes gravitated to the Labradorite basket. Picking one up, you moved it back and forth, watching it shine with the movement.

・The meaning was, ‘creates a shield for auras and protects against negativity of the world,’. 

     “Fucking perfect,” you said chuckling. 

・When you approach Glenn, you almost had a shiteating grin. You knew he would like it on some level, but you just wanted to tell him the meaning behind it. 

・When you gave it to him, he had the widest smile but not without a quirked eyebrow

    “Got it on the run,” you said with a smile, “watch this.” 

・You held it to the sunlight and moved it as you had in the store, showing him how it shone. 

・Glenn was elated. Not by the gift itself, but the fact that you were thinking about him. 

・Now, he keeps it with him always. Even though you got it because it reminded you of him, he sees it as an extension of you. 

・Having you close, even if it isn’t you physically; it’s what helps him carry on - 

・Having tokens of the people he loves, especially when he’s in dangerous situations. It reminds him to keep fighting. To keep holding on. 

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐡

・You had been looking around on the farm, searching for something new to focus on, when you found on oddly shaped rock. 

・Turning it around, you realised it was a heart, not a perfect one, but one nonetheless 

・It gave you a burt of excitement; something fun to show the person you loved the most 

・Running back inside, you quickly found Beth, who had been talking with Lori

・You waited until they were finished, an eager smile on your lips as you held both hands behind your back

・When you presented it to Beth she was equally as excited to receive it as you were to give it 

・She got it straight away, not even having to turn it around to see its true shape

・Looking at you, she wrapped you in her arms and gave you a squeeze

     “Thank you,” she whispered and kissed your cheek

・Tried ages to somehow make a necklace for it. Spent days wrapping thread around it only for it to always fail

・It wasn’t until Carol looped the string over and over again, threading this way and that, creating a holding for the stone heart to sit in

・When it was done, Beth ran to show you

𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤

・You were on a run with Daryl and found this science store. Your curiosity got the best of you, and inside were cabinets full of old history

・An idea came to mind and you found the one that possessed items from Neanderthal times (allegadely). 

・Inside was a rock that recorded one of the first thumb prints in America 

・It made you smile - the irony of it. Because how did the world end up like this? 

・Using your bat to smash the glass, you grabbed the rock and pocketed it. With Daryl waiting outside, you jumped onto his bike off you two went, with Walkers limping toward the sudden sound

・When you got back to camp, you slumped next to Rick and gave him the rock

    “I thought one of the last people alive should have something of one of the first’s.” 

・That felt like a shot to the heart for Rick

・He got the humour of it. But you didn’t expect for his eyes to gloss over

     “Hey, hey,” you cooed, placing an arm on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you loved science so much-”

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞

・You had all been on the road for a while, trying to find some sort of shelter

・Everyone was in low spirits, and not even you could lift them. It took too much energy. 

・You went off with Maggie to find something for everyone to eat, or a lead on some shelter or water

・Maybe it was delirium, or the fact that you wanted to cheer Maggie up. But you found a near perfect sphere of a rock

   “Wow, look at this,” with a lot of effort, you bent down and picked up the stone. 

・There were no cracks, or chips. It was fully round besides one side where it looked to have caved in a little

・With your best British accent, you bowed low to Maggie and said,” a most expensive present for the most dazzling woman alive,.”

・That comment brought out the smallest of smiles - but it was better than nothing

・You presented it to her and she took it with a raised brow

    “And what am I supposed to do with it?” She said a ad mockingly

“Cherish it, my love,” you said and gave her a kiss

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥

・You had gotten closer to Daryl over time. So close that where one went, the other wasn’t far behind 

・And in your possession was a rose quartz that your best friend had given to you man years ago. 

・You still cherished the pink piece of stone, a reminder that there was a before

・One night when neither you or Daryl could sleep, you walked over to him and sat down. Neither of you saying anything you held out your hand with the stone in it

    “For you,” was all you said 

・King of “Huh?” 

・Didn’t want to take it at first

・But nodded his head and thanked you after you explained why you wanted him to have it

    “I still don’t think I should have it, Y/N,” he whispered

“But I want you to have it. It’s like having a little piece of me...”

・It took only that, because he did take it

・And now he always has it in his pocket, even when he sleeps (if it’s bothering him, he’ll just sleep in a different position)

・He nearly goes crazy if he can’t find it anywhere too 

・Daryl knew how much it meant to you. It was a tie to that era in your life. Rememberance of your friends and family. 

・So now he cherished it. In such an intense way that it was now apart of his image. 

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥

・You hadn’t found it on a run, or doing anything important

・You just happened across it, in an abandoned pack (a walker had been nearby though, so you put two and two together)

・Rummaging through, you found a few useful items like dog food, deodorant, panadol, bandaids, moisturisor, but then something caught your eye. 

・At the bottom of the bag was another bag - a makeup one. Mixed in with the concealer and lipstick was half a geode. One of the most beautiful things you had seen in a while

・Lugging the backpack back to the group, you asked where Carol was and left the pack with everyone else

・You were so excited to show Carol the geode you had found. Maybe it had been given as a gift before the Walkers began, but you found it nonetheless

・It was only one half of the geode, but it was layered with shimmering crystal. A piece of beauty in such a rotting world 

・Her response was so tender

・Even the way she held out her hand was like it could fall to pieces 

    “Oh it’s lovely-” 

・And you couldn’t help but smile. Well, you beamed basically. 

    “I thought you should have something as beautiful as you are.” 

・She scoffed and lightly whacked your arm

𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧

・You had met Negan after the events of his war against Rick. 

・There was a group you had been travelling with, but you were attacked by a swarm of walkers and somehow only you survived

・He found you one day and you’ve been inseparable since 

・It didn’t take long for Negan to get to know you; you were an open book. Even if before the apocolypse you were closed off; now you couldn’t help but try to make relationships with people. You knew that if they turned on you - their sympathy would bare them from doing anything too horrible... well that’s what you had learned watching a True Crime show before the walkers 

・Some days were more difficult then others, and you could see that something lay heavy within Negan

・He barely spoke about himself, but from you did know, you understood that at times you had to become someone else to survive 

・Thinking it could cheer him up somehow, you went to the nearby creek and searched for a unique looking rock or pebble

・Finding one, that was completely smooth on both sides, you decided that this one would be perfect

・Running back to camp, you told him to close his eyes and hold out his hands. Doing so, you placed the stone in his calloused palms

・Immediately asks, “what’s this?” when he opened his eyes

・You shrugged and explained. 

  “I thought it looked cool, since it’s completely smooth. Kinda like one of those toys you have to calm a person down-”

      “You’re right, it does look cool sweetheart,” (will go along with anything you say)

・From then on he always has it on or near him

・Is usually seen chucking it up in the air and catching it. Or when he’s very stressed, he’ll roll it around in his hand

[andreafmn]

Kinktober ⛓ Day 1

Word Count: 5.1K Paring: Avatar!Jake Sully x Fem!Human!Reader, Human!Jake Sully x Fem!Human!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Macro/Micro WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), oral sex (male and female receiving), significant size difference, interspecies sex, fingering, p-in-v sex

Summary: Jake Sully and (Y/N) came to Pandora in the ISV Venture Star as part of the same research team. From an early stage, the pair got on well, and everyone could see that. But there were certain proclivities that they reserved for each other.

A/N:  your eyes do not deceive you, I am taking on the Kinktober challenge for the very first time. First off the bat, I will probably not post it consistently but I will finish it even if it takes me until the end of the year. Second, they're gonna be Fem!Reader just because it is easiest for me to write (and I'm sorta being selfish with my first Kinktober). Also, I will post on my original schedule as well even if it kills me. Hope y'all enjoy this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!🤭🤭 Sorry not sorry for this shitshow 🫣🫣

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Working in Pandora was everything (Y/N) had dreamed of since she was a little girl. Her parents had been members of the RDA research team and had brought up inside her a love for the alien planet and its inhabitants. Especially its inhabitants. 

From a young age, she had studied the foreign creatures. Their blue skin, their pointy ears, their swishing tails, and their massive height. She imagined what it would be like to be in their bodies. To have a connection to her Mother Earth as they did. What it would be like to live amongst the wonders of that planet. 

Because of her proclivities as a child, it came as no surprise that the girl trained her entire life to join the RDA’s Avatar program. (Y/N) was the youngest of the group. Her intelligence and wit propelled her forward quickly and with few obstacles in her career, and she joined the pioneer program as a scientist first and an Avatar driver second. 

It was the day they were meant to be put into cryosleep that (Y/N) saw one Jake Sully for the first time. He had rolled into the port with a sour look on his face, as though he was unsure why he was there. But she knew. Everyone in their research team did. 

Losing his twin brother, Tom, had been a devastation like no other for their small team. And when an identical copy of him had come in his place, it had sent them reeling. She had listened to Norm Spellman drone on and on about how unfair it was that Jake was allowed to join the team with no scientific experience and even less training with an Avatar. But the military had dug its claws into their work, and there was nothing they could do. If Jake hadn’t come, Tommy’s Avatar would have been forever condemned to a conservation tank. A body with no soul to wield it. 

She smiled at him from afar, gifting him with a small wave as Norm stood scowling beside her. She had no qualms about the man and felt no need to treat him with any disdain. Though she had to admit, the uncanny resemblance to their friend was rather eerie. The brothers might have looked the same, yet they certainly were not the same. But it would take six years for (Y/N) to come to any conclusions about Jake. 

When they awoke from cryosleep years later, (Y/N) had been the one to calm Jake during their first Avatar run. Unable to control the massive body of the creature, he stumbled in the exam room as the doctors tried to check his vitals. With his returned ability to walk, the excitement had built inside him, and there was no way he could stay still. 

Norm had run behind Jake as he emerged into Pandora, but he struggled on his feet as he wielded the new shape. (Y/N), on the other hand, had taken full control of her Avatar. She heard the commotion from the other room and went to follow it, finding a blue Jake in a hospital gown running into the courtyard. 

Where Norm failed, (Y/N) succeeded, catching up to the man as his feet dug into the cold Pandorian soil. “Hey, Jake!” she called. “Someone’s excited, huh?”

“You can say that again,” he chuckled, turning toward her. “You’re (Y/N), right? I saw you when we boarded the ship.” 

“The one and only,” she smiled before taking hold of a Spartan fruit and throwing it in his direction. “Think fast!” 

Jake caught the purple fruit easily, biting into it and staring surprisedly as it burst all over his face. She joined his side, taking a fruit for herself. 

“This is delicious,” he sighed pleasurably. “I didn’t know it would be this good.” 

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about, Jake Sully,” (Y/N) smiled. “Thankfully, you have an amazing team behind you that will help you learn about this amazing world.” 

“And will you be there to help?”

“Well, I am in your research team, so that would be a yes.” 

“How lucky am I?” Jake said, a playful grin splayed across his face. “Well, if your tutoring sessions are as good as you are beautiful, I think I might become an expert in no time.” 

“What a charmer,” she chuckled. “But you should know that I am known to be quite a ruthless teacher. I am a bit rough when it comes to teaching about this planet.” 

“I never expected you to be,” he responded before leaning into her. “And I like it rough.” 

In the coming weeks, Jake and (Y/N) grew closer, both as Avatars and as humans. When they were on break, one would not be seen without the other. They had become inseparable, and no one at the base could deny the intense chemistry that flowed between them. And within the confines of the link station in Site 26, it was undeniable that something was brewing between them. No one could deny it. Not even them. 

What had become almost impossible was acting upon their desires when their duties took up so much of their time. While Jake gained the trust of the Omatikaya people, (Y/N) would busy herself with her scavenging and her lab tests. And when one was inhabiting their Avatar, the other was back in their human body. 

But that would prove to not be much of a problem.

(Y/N)’s fascination with the Na’vi went farther than she would ever admit out loud. It had started innocently enough. A simple curiosity about the alien creatures that populated the planet her parents studied. But as she grew, her curiosity seemed to transform into something… less than innocent. 

There was something about their gigantic bodies compared to the smallness of her human one that sparked something inside her that she could not extinguish. In the late hours of the night, before anyone had connected with their Avatars, (Y/N) would spend hours upon hours inspecting their bodies inside their conservation tanks. 

Tom’s Avatar–now Jake’s– was a favorite of hers to stare at. She studied every curve and line of his muscles, the valley of his blue skin, the stretch of his body, the plumpness of his lips, and the size of his member. The first time she had seen it, it had made her mouth water and her heart flutter. There was something about the way the blue body almost doubled her in size that set off a fire inside her. She wanted to know what it would feel like for those long arms to wrap around her, how he could probably pick her up with just one arm, how he could probably stretch her out more than any man could ever do. 

When the thoughts had popped into her head, they had startled her. They made her feel as though there was something wrong with her. Not only was she thinking of a creature that was massive in comparison to her, but she was thinking about interspecies relations. Because her fantasies didn’t involve her Avatar. No. Her mind created images of her small human body and the blue people of Pandora. 

What she didn’t know was that she was not the only one plagued with those thoughts. When Jake had first seen (Y/N) while in his Avatar body, something had stirred deep within him. It had taken everything inside him not to make a move on her. She looked so small that he knew he could if he really wanted to. Jake could feel warmth traveling between his legs, pressing onto the fabric of his clothing as his cock hardened. 

But neither one acted upon their desires. Each thought themselves to be depraved and slightly sexually repressed, and believed that even talking about those fantasies was bad enough. And there was no way they could do anything with Grace and Norm always around. They both believed they’d be burdened with their thoughts for the rest of time. 

As luck would have it, or rather as Eywa had allowed in her divine timing, a day came were only (Y/N) was left in the link pod. She had been tasked with labeling samples and documenting findings while Grace and Norm scavenged the forest as humans –claiming they needed to give their bodies a nice stretch. She had been focused on her work, engrossed in paper after paper, slide after slide. It had been what she had come to Pandora to do, but she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous that she wasn’t the one amongst the Omatikaya. 

She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice when the nine-foot blue Na’vi walked into the too-small-for-him shack. It wasn’t until he knocked over their breakfast plates from the counter that she turned to find the man standing inside. 

“May I ask what gave you the brilliant idea to get in here with that body?”

“I needed to see you,” Jake responded rather breathlessly. “I thought it was big enough for me to fit.” 

“Your body is literally less than ten feet away from me in the pod, Jake,” she chuckled. “All you had to do was wake up.” 

“I-I… I couldn’t.” 

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) worried. There was a slight desperation in Jake’s voice, accompanied by a glaze in his eyes that concerned her. “Is everything alright?” 

“I need you, (Y/N),” he blurted as he took tentative steps toward her, careful to mind his head. 

“What do you need from me, Jake? Are you feeling okay? Are you hurt?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” he responded. His tone got darker, laced with something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I need you.” 

As he essentially growled those words, (Y/N) eyes examined his body for any sign that he could have been wounded in any way. The word, “Oh?” escaped her mouth barely above a whisper as she tried to understand where Jake was coming from. His head seemed fine. So did his arms and his torso. It was when her gaze fell on the space between his thighs that was covered with the brown loincloth that she finally understood what it was that he needed.

“Oh,” she said louder. The fabric that covered him was tighter than usual, tented by something thick and hard that was being held back by the covering. “You’re… I don’t… how am I supposed to help you with that, Jake?” 

“I’ve tried to make it go away, but it honestly just keeps getting worse. I feel like my entire body is on fire.”

“I think you might be in rut, Jake.” 

“What is that?” 

“In heat,” she said, slightly embarrassed at the words. “It means that your body is going through a stage where it wants to find a mate and breed.”  

“And how long is it supposed to last?”  

“It could last from one to four days, but I can’t be too certain about it. It’s not a well-researched topic,” (Y/N) explained. “What I could suggest is that you find somewhere to ride this out. Possibly a very cold river. Or you could find someone to ride it out with at the village. I know the Omatikaya value their vows and loyalty, but I’m sure a guy like you could persuade anyone.”  

“But I don’t want anyone back in the village. In fact, I have just the person in mind.” (Y/N) couldn’t help but not the darkness that now clouded Jake’s eyes. The yellow irises were trained on her, looking her up and down as though they could see through her clothing. “All I need to know is if she wants it right back.” 

She was dumbfounded. Completely perplexed at his words. He couldn’t have been asking what she thought he was. If he was, (Y/N) was sure she was dreaming. “Jake, I… I can’t help you right now. It’s almost impossible,” she stammered before remaining quiet for a moment. “I could hop on my link pod and help you out that way if you don’t mind waiting.” 

“I don’t think you’re understanding me, (Y/N),” he growled. Jake had closed the space between them now, and he towered over her even in his hunched position. “I don’t want your Avatar. I want you.” 

(Y/N) stumbled backward, her back hitting the desk as she tried to put some distance between them. Jake was simply acting on a lust-fueled brain. He wasn’t thinking clearly. And as much as she wanted what he was asking for, she wouldn’t let him regret it later. “Look, Jake. I don’t think you’re thinking clearly right now,” she chuckled awkwardly. “You probably woke up alone, and your head brought you unconsciously here. Why don’t you just go back to sleep and unlink? It might help you cool down a bit.” 

“I know you want this too, (Y/N),” he whispered. “I can smell it on you.” 

At those words, the woman clenched her thighs together. Her body reactions were something she could not deny, and his keen senses had picked up on it. Her breathing became staggered and her chest heaved as she felt the warmth of Jake’s body so close to her it was almost as though they were touching. 

“I know you want to try this,” Jake said. “I used to watch you back at Hell’s Gate. The night before we finally linked, you were staring at this very body you see before you. Your skin was flushed, and you were heaving–kind of like you are now. Then, when you went back to your room, I heard you. The RDA might have a lot of funding, but they definitely did not invest it in thick walls.” 

“I wasn’t…” 

“But you were, (Y/N),” he grinned devilishly. “I heard every single sound that escaped from your mouth that night. And I’m pretty sure I know exactly what you were imagining.” 

“Oh, yeah?” she said, feeling slightly bold. “What was it then?” 

“This very cock,” he responded as he palmed the hardened bulge between his legs. “Buried deep inside your human body.” 

Her breath got hitched in her throat, tightening her windpipe as Jake worded everything that was running through her head.  “W-what’re you s-saying?” she stammered. “How could you know any of that?”

“Well, other than the way your body is reacting right now,” he grinned, revealing his razor-sharp fangs. “And because I’ve been dreaming of the same thing.” 

“Jake,” she gasped. 

“And if I had known you were thinking of this too, I would have jumped at the opportunity the very first time,” he growled. “Now, come here.” 

(Y/N) didn’t know what had taken her over, but she walked toward Jake’s Avatar. He was kneeling on the ground, sitting on his ankles, his legs spread far enough for her to fit between them. Her hands ran across his exposed chest, taking the dagger sling that was draped around him off. She trailed the features of his face with her fingers, drinking in the closeness she could not get when the body was in the tank. She traced the eyebrows above his yellow eyes, the wideness of the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, the white spotted freckles, and played with the braids that fell on his face.” 

“You having fun there?” Jake chuckled, bringing her attention back to the moment. “As much as I’m enjoying your little curiosity delineation, I don’t know how that helps my little problem down there.”

“It’s not little,” she breathed. “Really not little.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” he said, placing a finger under her chin to fix her gaze on him. A finger so big it looked like a hand cradling her face. “Because I have a few ideas of what you could do.”

“And what are they?”

“I want you to say what you would do.”

“I-I can’t,” (Y/N) muttered as embarrassment surged through her. She was certainly not inexperienced, but there was something about saying out loud what she had kept to herself for so long that made her close up. “It’s embarrassing.” 

“You know what’s embarrassing? Running through the forest in this loincloth with a painful hard-on just so I could get to you,” he playfully growled. “Now. Tell me, what do you want?”

(Y/N) took a steadying breath before staring directly into Jake’s eyes and saying, “I want to rip that loincloth off your body and take what I can of you in my mouth and wrap my hands around your cock. Even if I can’t take you in completely, I will make sure no part remains untouched. And I want your mouth on my clit as you stretch me out with your fingers, prepping me to fit you inside.” 

“Good girl,” he purred. “Now come here.” 

Jake crashed his lips onto hers as best as he could, one of his hands wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. He was the first to moan into the kiss, the need inside him taking over and growing. The touch felt like fire, a burning desire that he wanted to feed, and she was just the accelerant he needed. 

She was sweet and warm against him, and all he wanted to do was to learn how she felt everywhere else. Her smell was already intoxicating, and he needed to know just how addicting every other part of her would be. 

“Lay down,” she instructed with a smile as she finally broke the kiss, skin flushed and lips red. “Careful you don’t bump into your own link pod. Might make this experience a bit different.” 

“I’m just glad the hall is big enough for me,” he chuckled. “Wouldn’t want this to be interrupted by an oxygen machine.”

“Then let’s stop wasting time before you’re the one that might need a swig of CO2 to survive.” 

“You’re the one with layers on, baby,” Jake grinned, slipping off the white lab coat that covered her. “If anyone is wasting time, it’s you.” 

(Y/N) could only chuckle as she slipped off her t-shirt before shimmying out of her jeans, leaving her in a sports bra and a pair of cotton panties. She wished she had been wearing something sexier, maybe something that matched. But she knew it didn’t really matter. They wouldn’t be on for much longer. Jake made sure of that. With a quick stretch of his arm, both pieces of fabric were ripped off her body, exposing every inch of skin to him.

“You know, I don’t have much underwear here.” 

“That’s fine. I don’t plan on letting you need it.” 

He kissed her again, trying his best to convey all of his want through their lips. But he wanted more. He wanted her warmth around him, he wanted to stretch her in ways she had never imagined, he wanted to fill her with his seed. Even if he had no idea what could happen after. 

But (Y/N) was the first one to move. She turned away from him and crawled down his massive torso, her eyes deadset on the painfully hard bulge that was being held back by the tight piece of fabric. Slowly, she undid the ties that held the loincloth together, slipping it off his body as she had done his sling. Only this time, a small gasp left her throat as his cock was finally released. 

Jake’s erection flopped onto his stomach, beads of precum glistening on his purple-pink head. As she stared, his length twitched, and she couldn’t help but admire the specimen before her. Her scientific curiosity would always win. She got as close as possible without touching it, examining the veins, the stiffness, the length, the girth, and the shining tip that beckoned her closer. 

“Please,” she heard Jake whimper. “Please.” 

It was all he needed to say for (Y/N) to take hold of his cock with both of her hands and give him a tentative lick. She chuckled as he shuddered at her touch, reveling in the reactions she pulled from him. But what surprised her wasn’t his sounds. It was how easy it was to fit the tip of his cock in her mouth. (Y/N) thought she’d receive more fight from her body as she took his size, but it was almost as though she was made for him. 

Unfortunately, though, her mouth was only big enough to take some of him in, but she gladly made up for it with her hands. She established a steady rhythm quickly, treading close to the line of his edge. (Y/N) took him as far as he could, hollowing her cheeks as she bobbed her head and using the mixture of her saliva and his own precum to aid her hands on the rest of his shaft. 

What she had not expected was Jake’s hands holding her hips and sinking his mouth into her cunt. He did just as she had told him, working his tongue expertly across that needy bundle of nerves. Jake swirled and sucked, moaning as her taste flooded his tongue. And she would have been grateful for just that touch, until she felt one of his fingers enter her. 

“Oh, fuck,” (Y/N) slurred out, releasing Jake for a second. “It feels so fucking good.” 

“That’s just one finger, baby,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna need you to hold on for more.” 

“Then, hurry,” she whined. “I want the real thing inside me already.” 

With another hearty chuckle, Jake set off to work. He pumped his finger into her, listening to her sounds as a guideline. Once he felt her stretched enough, he slipped another digit, earning him her first orgasm. Her walls clenched around the two fingers, her throat accompanying the flutter with a string of beautiful pleasurable moans. A beautiful song that made Jake’s ears twitch. 

As the Avatar continued to work, (Y/N) grew sloppier in her ministrations. Her entire concentration had shifted to the intense burning between her legs as Jake stretched her more and more, adding yet another of his large fingers as he lapped at the sensitive bud just above her entrance. It was as though her body had skipped the uncomfortable stage and had delved directly into the mind-numbing satisfaction. 

“Jake,” she moaned. “Jake, I need you inside.” 

“Not yet,” he muttered against her. “Fuck, you taste so good.” 

Jake was entranced with her body. Worshiping the smaller figure before him. If Eywa decided to take him right there and then, he would have died a satisfied man. But it was her turn to beg for more. “Jake, please,” she said. “I want to cum around you.” 

And who was he to deny her pleading? With another gusto-filled lick to her core, Jake removed his fingers, watching as (Y/N) walked toward him. But the gasp that came from her mouth as he took his fingers into his mouth and savored her once more was what brought a shit-eating grin onto his face. He wanted to have that memory tattooed into his brain for the rest of his life. The way her body glimmered with sweat, the way her chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, the way her eyes had darkened with lust as she drank the sight of him. 

“Take it slow,” he commanded as the woman positioned herself right above his cock. With one hand, she grabbed his length, holding it just below her entrance. With the other, she kept her balance as she pressed it against his toned chest. “Don’t overexert yourself.” 

“I don’t know how much slower I can take it,” she teased. “We’ve already waited two months to do this when we could have been doing it the entire time.” 

“I’m pretty sure we would have been in a lot of trouble if someone had caught us. It must be against some type of rule.” 

“Since when do you care about the rules?” 

“I don’t,” Jake cockily grinned. “That’s why we’re fucking right now.” 

“We’re not fucking yet.” She took the moment he laughed to finally sink her body onto the giant’s cock, slowly inching down as far as her body could take him. (Y/N) felt something inside her burst, filling her with an overwhelming euphoria that she didn’t know how she had ever orgasmed with another man before. “Now we’re fucking.” 

“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” Jake moaned. “Does it hurt?” 

“No,” she said breathlessly. “It feels amazing!” 

“If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not gonna last long, (Y/N).” 

“I can’t help it,” she moaned as she felt comfortable enough to slowly bounce on his lap. “It just feels too good.” 

“I wanna make this moment last, baby,” he purred against her ear as he tried to delay his finish. “Fuck… you gotta go slower.” 

“I really can’t, Jake,” (Y/N) moaned, moving her hips faster and faster as she felt warmth pooling deep inside her. “And we don’t have much time left. Grace and Norm will be back any… fuck… any minute.” 

“Damn it,” the man cursed. “You’re gonna make me look like a high school boy blowing too early.” 

“Luckily, I won’t have anyone to tell,” she teased. “But don’t worry, I’ll know I never gave you a chance.”

Her pace was punishing now. It didn’t even allow Jake to join in the movements, his entire mind concentrating on making the moment last as long as possible. But the attack on her part was calculated and brutal, searching for their mutual ends as quickly as she could. 

(Y/N)’s hips moved on her own, raising and falling from what she could take of his cock, her mind focused on the one thing he didn’t want just yet. She wanted to combust around him. Wanted to feel him come undone inside her. To, for just a second, have something of an aberration inside, to imagine that two completely different species could ever come together. 

The more she moved, the more her insides squeezed the blue creature’s shaft. Every second that passed brought them closer and closer to the inevitable end.

“I’m close,” (Y/N) moaned. “Fuck, Jake, I’m so close.” 

“I know, baby,” he groaned in response. “I’m close too.” 

It wasn’t long until (Y/N) was screaming the man’s name and dropping onto his chest as her orgasm rippled through her body like it had never done before. And while she shook in the intensity, Jake brought it upon himself to search for his finish, plunging his hips as deep as he could into her until he felt his cock release everything he had inside of her, filling her until he could feel their essences dripping out of her.

“I wish we could have done this outside,” she muttered against him as she recovered her strength. His softening cock was still buried deep within her cunt as he softly rutted against her while riding out their orgasms. “It would have been such a completely different experience.” 

“You’re right. But then, I couldn’t have done this,” he smiled as he kissed her lips tenderly, basking in the taste of her mouth. “And I would have died if I couldn’t have.” 

“I would have too,” (Y/N) said, returning the smile and another chaste kiss. “I also wish we could stay like this forever. But you need to go, Jake.” 

“A couple more minutes,” he groaned, letting his head fall back onto the metal floor. “I just wanna forget that the rest of the world exists for a couple of more minutes.”

With a chuckle, (Y/N) granted him that prayer. It was the only thing she could. She ran her fingers across his queue as his large fingers traced shapes against the skin of her back. And for those next few minutes, it truly felt like it was only them. 

But all good things come to an end, and (Y/N) noticed the clock on the wall was at seventeen hundred hours and the two other scientists would be coming back any second. She scrambled to her feet, groaning as Jake exited her body, the stretch contracting slightly but still aching inside her. 

“Go back to the village,” (Y/N) instructed as she cleaned them both up with a towel and dressed. “We’ll talk when you’re out of the pod, okay?” 

“I’ll see you tonight, baby,” he smiled, giving her one last kiss before he left the far too cramped shack. 

If Grace and Norm had found anything awry in there when they came back from their scavenging, they did not mention it. They went about the rest of their day, documenting their samples and writing their daily logs. The only time they seemed to talk to (Y/N) was during dinner time, but there wasn’t much she could say about her day. And, thankfully, they didn’t ask much, too exhausted from their day to stay awake for much longer. Once the younger scientist announced she’d wait up for Jake, the pair left for their respective beds to sleep the day away. 

That night, when Jake finally opened his link pod, (Y/N) was waiting with a giant smile on her face. She waited until he was on his chair and rolled to the small dining table, where a plate of hot food was waiting for him. 

“Hey, marine,” she smiled. 

“Hey, yourself.”

“Thought you might be hungry,” (Y/N) chuckled. “I heard you had a busy day.” 

“You heard that through the grapevine, huh?” Jake snickered. “I will admit, I had a very busy day.”

“Hm, the Omatikaya are working you harder than expected?” 

“If only they had been the ones that took my time today,” he responded before motioning for her to sit on his lap. “But no, I spent the day with a very beautiful but small woman that blew my mind away. No pun intended.” 

(Y/N) kissed him tenderly, making note of just how different it felt to kiss him as a human. “Well, you blew her mind away as well,” she smiled. “Pun intended.” 

“You know, if we’d only talked about this, we could have done this so long ago,” he whispered, his forehead pressed against hers. “But at least we finally did.” 

“We really did, huh?” she chuckled. “Now, all we have to do is check when’s the next time?” 

“Insatiable, are we?” 

“You don’t know the half of it.” 

Next ->

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(so happy your bringing back the birthday takeover interactions for Rollo/Roro/Rolo/Lolo (i give up) i just want to remind you that I love you Miss Raven🫂)

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYY TO OUR DEAREST PRESIDENT!!! Ehem, excuse my volume, just doing my best to keep the joyous atmosphere.

I hope the decorations are all to your liking, the others and I have done our outmost to keep the room neatly decorated😌 Though... I couldn't stop those Night Raven College students, it was his idea not mine.

*points at NBC Vice President*

As for my gift to you~ Here~

*presents a tiny music box, when turned plays the instrumental to 'Everyone Go Yahoo!' by Neige and the Dwarfs from VDC*

And once again, Happy Birthday to you!

The wording on this interaction is a little confusing; I'm not sure if it comes from a general NBC mob, the student council aide, or another NRC student??? For ease of writing, I'm write from the perspective of a NBC mob. (Fun fact, the Snow White music box image I used for this post is a rare item that sells for several hundreds of dollars 🤑)

Rollo produced his handkerchief and coughed stiffly into it. “I understand what you are trying to communicate. There is no need to raise your voice. As for the decorations…”

He gave the looks a cursory glance—to give the impression of evaluating it.

There had been painstaking care in the color coordination of the balloons, streamers, and banners: Noble Bell College’s violet, maroon, and black, spackled with golden glitter. Confetti had made its home on the rug and crevices of the floor, and his desk and coffee table hosted platters of cake, bread, cheeses, and grapes. A large bell-shaped piñata hung overhead, waiting to be batted around. And flowers—flowers everywhere.

“… It is beyond my expectations,” he said carefully. Yes, it is beyond my expectations because I never expected this interruption to begin with!! “I must thank you and the others for organizing this celebration. I am humbled to have received such thoughtful attention.”

You flushed with pride at his praise, not recognizing it for the tailored politeness that it was: an act. Your president had always been cool, reserved, and controlled with his emotions.

His face subtly shifted when you presented him with your gift. A slight widening of the eyes, a tick in his jaw. This, you knew, was his “surprised”.

The music box was a marvel. Shaped like a sturdy coffin, it was painted in the earth browns of tree bark, the blues of halcyon skies, and the greens of open grassy fields. Detailed animals eagerly climbed up its sides, while a parade of seven dwarves adorned the lid. The craftsmanship—as much as Rollo loathed to admit it—was impressive.

When you turned the crank to demonstrate its song, the box sprang open, revealing a tiny prince and princess set spinning in an eternal dance. A familiar tune flitted out, at once nostalgic and cheery to the ear. Rollo recognized it immediately.

“This is that popular children’s song.”

“Yeah! It’s going though a huge resurgence in popularity right now. Have you heard the cover Neige and his friends performed of it? It’s sooo cute!!” you gushed.

“Cover?” Rollo’s brow creased. “I apologize. I’m not aware of what you’re referring to, this… Neige-kun character.”

You did a double take. “Wait, seriously? He’s, like, THE biggest celebrity right now! All the outlets call him ‘the fairest one of all’.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

Your jaw dropped.

Rollo-senpai is such a workaholic that he doesn’t even know Neige at all?! What dedication…! I only wish I could work half as hard as he does!!

Your admiration for him kindled anew.

“Oh gosh… You’re missing out then, Prez! You need to give it a listen when you can. It’ll get the song stuck in your head all over again!”

“I find that I am not a fan of modern renditions of the classics.” Rollo offered a strained smile. “Perhaps I can give it a chance when I can find the time in my busy schedule.”

He doubted it.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 10: Scar Tissue]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, and you don’t get any plot hints this time you just have to read and suffer and yes there will be ANGSTTTTT!!!!

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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You’ve counted the scars on his chest until you know them by heart. There are twelve exactly, which feels significant; it’s the last week of the twelfth month of 1999, it’s the end, it’s the beginning. You read them with your eyes and your fingertips and your lips, these knots of corporal memory that form a constellation, not the shape of a hero—Hercules, Orion, Perseus, Achilles—but the footprints of ghosts.

The Juneau magnet has joined the rest of his collection, places he blew into like a storm and then abandoned, wreckage in his wake, downed trees and snapped powerlines and shingles ripped from roofs, finally at peace in his absence and yet somehow less. There is a jar on top of the refrigerator that already has your half of the money for the San Diego trip squirreled away in it. Aegon puts in a little at a time—a quarter here, a five-dollar bill there—and yet there’s never any doubt that he’s committed to it. It’s the same way he is with you. There are no grand gestures, no expensive gifts or intoxicating declarations. There are only small, feather-light moments as faint as the lines in your palm. You could stack up a million of them and they would never feel heavy. They would never feel like a cage.

Aegon is an open door, and together you are a dream: whispers and guitar strings, tangled sheets and refracted light, snow falling soundlessly beyond frosted windows, fog so thick it erases the stars.

~~~~~~~~~~

“How dare you,” Heather says when you enter Caribou Crossings. It’s Wednesday, December 29th. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor and surrounded by boxes, an island in a sea of Juneau-themed souvenirs. “You float in here on a cloud while I’m sad, single, all alone in the world except for these hideous snow globes.” She holds one aloft for emphasis. “Why would anyone want a snow globe with a salmon in it? A salmon?”

You smile. You smile a lot these days. “Tragic.”

“No pets in need of your medical expertise?”

“Not really. Ms. Larson’s box turtle had a shell fracture, but now I’m free until 2:30.”

“How’s the making Cobainbies going?”

“No babies,” you insist. “Not of any variety.” Aegon as a father, as a husband? The prospect is horrifying. When you’re reminded of this—of the impossibility of a future beyond the next three months—you try to bury it like…well, like a body in a lake; each time it surfaces, you tie another stone around its ankle and sink it back down into the darkness.

“Is that what cracked Trent’s already less-than-impressive brain? You and Aegon?”

“Trent doesn’t know about Aegon. He just thinks we’re taking things slow. Honestly, I tried to break up with him about a week ago and…he got scary.”

Heather puts down the salmon snow globe and looks at you. “What did he do?”

“The same thing he did at the bar the other night. He was like…aggressive. Intimidating. But also apologetic and oblivious. It’s really disorienting. It’s hard for me to figure out if he’s…” What’s the right word? Dangerous. But you’re not sure if you can say that to Heather. “Seriously angry. I don’t want him to go all Stone Cold Steve Austin on Aegon.” Or me.

“That moron,” Heather sighs. “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him.”

“Uh, don’t do that.”

“No, it’s fine, I know how to put it in a way he’ll understand.” She stands, hands on her hips. “It’s just…you know…when Trent played football, if he was bored or pissed off he could run around and tackle people and knock them unconscious, and that’s how he learned to deal with things. And now he doesn’t have that anymore. He’s got friends and hobbies and a job, but I don’t think he knows what comes next. That happens to everyone, right? We all wake up one day and realize we’re adults and we’re supposed to have life figured out but we just…don’t. Trent’s a dumbass, and he needs to leave you alone if that’s what you want, and I’ll make it happen. But I don’t think he would ever intentionally hurt somebody.”

“I hope not,” you say softly.

Heather smirks. “So, are you enjoying all the super kinky sex with that Greek boy? Has he bent you into a pretzel fifty different ways? Has he dislocated your hips yet?”

“It’s not really like that,” you tell her. “It’s intense, but it’s…I don’t know. Different.”

The truth dawns on her, sunlight sparkling on waves. “When he leaves, you want to go with him.”

“Yes, but I can’t.”

“Why not? They need vets everywhere.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Look, obviously I don’t want you to leave. I’d be freaking heartbroken. Those four years of vet school were bad enough, and I always knew you were coming back. But if you feel like there’s something else out there that you need to experience…” She gestures vaguely, meaning the world beyond Juneau. “I would want you to have that chance. And then maybe you could end up back here one day knowing that this is really what you need after all.”

You shake your head, watching flurries wheel through the frigid wind outside. “My parents would be devastated. I don’t have any siblings, there’s nobody else, there’s just me. And Aegon…” He’s been running for six years and he’ll never stop. “He’s not the type to settle down.”

“Maybe he’ll get the whole alcoholic homeless rockstar thing out of his system and be totally normal by the time he hits thirty,” Heather says hopefully.

You can see it in a flash too sudden to hide from yourself: a house by the beach, white-blond children chasing Sunfyre around the backyard, golden-sun days and hot chocolate at night, cooking in the kitchen together like your parents always do. Aegon wouldn’t even have to work. I could still be a vet and he could take care of the kids and perform in some local rock band once or twice a week...and we could all be happy. You can’t believe that—not for more than a few reckless seconds, anyway—but you need to kill this conversation before it kills you. “Sure, maybe.”

“We should do something fun,” Heather pivots cheerfully. “While Aegon’s still here. While you both are. It’s the start of a new millennium, bitch! If we were characters on Friends or Buffy or whatever, we would be doing something fun and glamorous. We wouldn’t be sitting here in grandma sweaters surrounded by boxes of salmon snow globes.”

You laugh, although you are admittedly partial to grandma sweaters. “What do you want, a New Year’s Eve party? Flutes of champagne, glitter and fireworks? People making out at midnight?”

She grins. “That’s exactly what I want.”

“I could probably make that happen, actually,” you realize. “My parents keep bringing up the idea of having people over. They love any excuse to ply guests with food and rock music. I said I just wanted to watch ABC 2000 Today with them and Aegon.”

“Great! You can still watch ABC 2000 Today, just with thirty of your closest friends.”

“You are well aware that I possess, at the absolute maximum, like four friends.”

“Everyone is friends with everyone on New Year’s Eve. And guess what?”

“What?”

Heather’s face is determined, insolent, fierce. “We’re not going to invite Trent.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“New Year’s Eve?” Aegon echoes doubtfully. You’re curled up on the couch together watching the X-Files, Sunfyre sprawled across your lap, your head on Aegon’s bare chest; he has one hand in your hair, the other holding a rum and Coke. He doses himself with it like morphine, but he is far from drunk. He’s seemed better since he almost drowned. You wonder if it reminded him that alive is something he enjoys being.

“Yeah. My parents are so excited about it. They’re trying to plan a menu, but my dad has literally fifteen different appetizers he wants to make.”

“Sounds like he’s handling retirement well.”

“He likes to stay busy.” You sit up to look at Aegon. The light of the television flickers on his face, but his eyes are glassy and far away. As far as Miami? As far as six years ago? “So? What do you think?”

“About what?”

“The New Year’s Eve party, obviously.”

He shrugs, sips his rum and Coke, licks his lips slowly. Then he comes back to you, a moon growing full again after starving away. “Totally, Appletini. Let’s do it.”

“Yay!” You are shocked by your own enthusiasm; it’s very unlike you. Sunfyre’s tail thumps against the couch in approval. You turn Aegon’s face and kiss him, feeling the strange barely-there smile of his lips on yours. “And Trent won’t even be there, so we don’t have to be subtle about anything. We can hang out together, dance, cuddle, feed each other Swedish meatballs on cute little toothpicks…”

“Sneak up to your bedroom while everyone else is busy watching the countdown in Times Square…”

You giggle, settling against Aegon’s chest again, nestling into him. He’s warm and pliable and fits with you like the interwoven opalescent threads of the Northern Lights. His free hand pulls you closer; the ice cubes in his glass clink. The jar on top of the refrigerator gets fuller each day. “Everything is falling into place. Everything is going to be perfect.”

“Perfect,” Aegon agrees; but you can hear that he’s far away again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Bitch,” Heather gasps when she sees you, awed and incredulous. She’s carrying a massive tray of miniature quiches: smoked salmon, ham and cheddar, crab and tomato. “Bitchhhhh!”

You’re wearing a red dress you bought for a winter formal during vet school and haven’t touched since. You went with a sweet soulful boy from Iowa who you felt absolutely nothing for. He would have made a good husband, you realize now; he would have come home every night and helped the kids with their math homework and spent his weekends fixing fences and grilling steaks. You wonder if people like that are born without any darkness in them, or if they just learn to drain it from their veins like poisoned blood. You wonder if there is some reservoir of malignant self-destruction in everyone just waiting to breach the levees. “I look okay?”

“You look delicious. You look sinfully slutty. I wish I was into women, that’s how good you look.”

“Thanks, Heather.” You have lingerie on to match. You’re red all the way down: satin, lace, blood. You’re even wearing strappy crimson heels. It’s something you can’t stop thinking about: Aegon slipping every layer off of you later. You take the tray of quiches and beckon Heather inside.

The house is decorated—to a truly excessive degree—with balloons, banners, and confetti. Welcome, 2000! one banner reads. We hope the Y2K bug doesn’t destroy civilization! Your mom and dad are frenetically readying appetizers in the kitchen. When they finish each dish, you bring it out to the dining room table: deviled eggs, crab dip and toast points, ham salad sandwiches, stuffed jalapeno peppers, chicken liver mousse crostini, reindeer sausages, bacon-wrapped scallops, Swedish meatballs, homemade Rice Krispies Treats, Tongass Forest Cookies, a towering Baked Alaska. There are chilled bottles of wine, beer, and champagne, beads of condensation snaking down the glass. The ABC 2000 Today special is on tv, but guests are only half-watching. Your dad’s newest Red Hot Chili Peppers album is spinning on the record player; to you, their songs sound like California, or at least what you imagine California to be. The plucky guitar notes of Scar Tissue tiptoe through the house like footsteps in sand.

There are people in the dining room, people in the living room, people huddled in their parkas and smoking cigarettes around the crackling firepit in the backyard. They’re talking about 2000, of course, and the presidential election next year, and the Olympics, and the internet, and their own mundane tribulations: knee replacements, gallbladder removals, hyperactive grandchildren, marriages and divorces. But they’re talking about the Ice Fisher too.

“Who do you think it could be?” you hear Dale asking some of his bowling league buddies on the other side of the living room. They’re all broad, bearded men in flannel and jeans, guzzling beers and weather-beaten by their work as fishermen, loggers, oil riggers. “Ex-military? Some drifter? Someone just not right in the head? You know, I saw this 60 Minutes episode about a brain disease—what was it called, Earl? CTZ? CTE?—and athletes can get it from having concussions all the time. Boxers and football players and such. You think something like that could make someone violent…?”

Heather is working her way through a gargantuan portion of crab dip. Kimmie and Brad are practically mounting each other on your parents’ couch. Beside them, Joyce is grimacing as she tries to lose herself in a fantast novel with a mostly-naked cowboy on the front cover. She only smiles when Rob brings her a plate of appetizers. You’re on your third glass of bubbly, festive champagne. You keep glancing at the front door.

“They have to catch him soon, right?” Kimmie says in between sloppy kisses: loud smacking noises, lots of tongue. “I mean, he’s killed five people. Five! That’s so many!”

Joyce flips a page. “The police called in the FBI. That’s got to lead to a breakthrough soon.”

“I hope so.” Kimmie shudders. “It’s constant now…I worry when I go out to check the mail, when I put gas in my Land Cruiser, when I’m carrying groceries into the house…I feel like he could be anywhere. Like he’s lurking in every shadowy corner just waiting to grab me.”

“I think you’re safe,” Rob says with a smirk, amused but grim. “No one who goes to Ursa Minor gets killed. Have you guys noticed that? None of the victims had ever been to the bar as far as I know. The Ice Fisher must do his stalking in a different part of town.”

“Weird coincidence,” Joyce mutters.

“Guess I need to start going to Ursa Minor,” Brad says, grinning. “I could use some good luck.” Kimmie squeals with laughter as he paws at her, greedy and frivolous. You think: Please don’t leave body fluids on the couch, please don’t leave body fluids on the couch, please don’t leave body fluids on the couch…

“Why are the Bee Gees on tv?” Heather complains. “Who wanted that?”

Kimmie asks you: “Can Brad and I borrow your bedroom?”

“No, Kimmie.”

“Not the bed. Just the room. We’ll put a towel down on the floor.”

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” you plead.

“Fine,” she relents, sulking. Kimmie is wearing a glittery white dress and looks very, very young; her eyes are large and blameless, and her hair is secured in two voluminous pigtails. There’s a rhinestone crown on her head that reads Happy New Year! “Is Aegon on his way?”

“Oh yeah, he’ll be here any minute.” You steal another glimpse of the front door, but there are no consequent knocks. You check the clock on the wall. 10:30 p.m.

“He’s driving?” Heather says around a mouthful of crab dip, thin eyebrows raised. “He never drives.” Because he’s always drinking, she kindly leaves out.

“He told me he wanted to this morning. He’s been picking up extra shifts at work on whatever boats need another man. Holiday pay is double and we’re saving up for a trip to San Diego, you know.” There are polite—skeptical? pitying?—murmurs of agreement. “He didn’t know when he would get off, so he said I should focus on preparing for the party here and he would head over as soon as he had time to shower and walk Sunfyre. Anyway, he was on a boat all day and I was here helping to make deviled eggs until my hands felt like they were going to fall off.”

“Huh. I hope he’s not passed out in a ditch somewhere.”

“He’s not,” you say, a little more harshly than you mean to. He’s been getting better.

There is a knock at the door, and the closest person—Mark Morehouse from the pawn shop—opens it. It’s not Aegon. It’s Trent. He’s carrying a cheesecake the size of a Pekingese.

“Oh no,” Heather breathes. Kimmie, Joyce, and Rob frown down at their drinks.

“Hey, Trent!” Brad says, blithely unaware of the shift in mood.

Trent, wearing a very stately black button-up shirt, matching blazer, and khaki pants, looks around the room. He sees you, mouths wow, and then gives a tentative wave. He doesn’t come anywhere close to you. He puts his cheesecake on the dining room table and then goes to join Gary and Matt by the record player. Your mom and dad soon appear to greet him, resting their hands on his massive shoulders, asking about how his parents are doing and whether he’s had any luck with the Forest Service. Trent tells them that he finally got an interview that’s scheduled for next week. They reply with congratulations, casting you furtive, appraising glances. Did you invite him? Their eyes say. Do you want him here?

“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Heather asks you. “I didn’t tell him about the party, I swear. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Of course she wouldn’t; but Juneau is too small for secrets, that feels more true every day. Heather didn’t need to tell Trent, and neither did your parents. Maybe he heard about it through Matt or Gary, or he eavesdropped on a conversation in the Foodland, or someone mentioned it to his parents and they suggested he go without knowing he wasn’t supposed to be in attendance. However it happened doesn’t matter. The damage is done.

Heather’s question reverberates in your skull. Do you want me to get rid of him? “No,” you say. “Not yet, anyway. I don’t want to cause a scene in front of everyone.” Everyone but Aegon, you think, and you wouldn’t call yourself concerned yet but you are growing annoyed, little by little like how a clock ticks towards a new hour.

Joyce sniffs. “Hopefully he stays over there.”

And Trent does keep his distance. Now Dale is congratulating him about his interview. “That’s a great sign, Trent, a really great sign! Getting your foot in the door is the hardest part. I’ll call over and put in a good word for you. I still have a bunch of stuff from when I worked as a park ranger…boots, compasses, trekking poles, snowshoes…I’ll bring a box over for you.”

“Aw, Dale!” Trent appears to be genuinely touched. “Thanks, bro! You’re the best!”

“Sorry, what’s wrong with Trent?” Brad asks, brow crinkled, one arm slung around Kimmie. “Did I miss something?”

“He’s just a little obsessed with our gorgeous crimson hostess,” Heather explains, gesturing to you. “Obsessed in a pushy, idiotic, not-flattering way.”

Rob adds: “And he occasionally turns into the Hulk.”

“Maybe Trent’s the Ice Fisher,” Brad whispers conspiratorially, and then bursts out laughing. Everyone joins him except you. You can’t really blame them. Trent is a local hero: a football star, a reliable employee, the son of a normal and respected family, the wearer of his mane of lustrous hair, the object of countless women’s affection, the man who dragged Aegon out of the channel when he nearly drowned. A few mutilated Taco Bell tables aren’t going to change that. An occasional verbal outburst—and from a former athlete no less, fiery and forceful by necessity and thus swiftly forgiven, like a champion thoroughbred prone to biting—isn’t going to change that.

But they haven’t seen everything I have. They haven’t felt it.

You stand. “I’m going to go call Aegon.”

Upstairs in your bedroom, you assess your reflection in the mirror lined with photographs: the past and the future, friends and family and that magazine cutout of the Ford Mustang convertible barreling down the Pacific Coast Highway. You touch up your hair and makeup, then admire your dress. It occurs to you that almost everyone downstairs is wearing black or white or silver, cold wintery colors, New Year’s colors. You are the only one in red. When you got ready hours ago, you had felt powerful and sensual and elegant. You had imagined disappearing with Aegon into this room just after midnight, his hands skating up your thighs as cheers and toasts rumble through the floor. Now, when you imagine your exclamation-point red dress in a sea of cool, sleek shades of darkness and light, it strikes you as perhaps trying too hard. Desperate, even.

You pick up the phone on your nightstand and dial Aegon’s number. The line is busy.

Who would he be talking to? you wonder, perplexed. Everyone he knows is here.

You can’t drive over to pick him up; not until some of the champagne leaves your system, anyway. And you could never ask someone else to take you. You have no idea what you’ll find when you get there. You hang up the phone and stare down at it for a while.

So this is what it felt like. All those nights when Mom was waiting for Jesse to come home and he never did, all those times they had plans that he forgot. She’d be sitting on the couch or at the dining room table trying not to lose her mind as the hours crept by, and the whole time he’d be off getting wasted somewhere.

You physically shake your head to chase the vision away.

Aegon is going to be here. He has to be here. He’s been getting better.

“No luck?” Heather asks when you reappear downstairs, trying to sound neutral. You know she’s not actually neutral. You know exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m sure he’ll be on his way soon.” You plop down on the couch next to Joyce and gaze at the television without really seeing it. You are vaguely aware of the entertainers flitting in and out of the little black box: Neil Diamond, Faith Hill, Enrique Iglesias, Billy Joel, Barry Manilow, NSYNC, Christina Aguilera, Aerosmith. Around you, the party rolls on. You chat less and less and consume only water. You’re losing your appetite, and you want to be able to drive by the time midnight strikes. It’s 11:00, and then 11:15, and then 11:30, and eventually 11:45. More Juneau residents filter in, but none of them are Aegon.

“You okay, ladybug?” your dad asks as he moseys by the couch, and you send him away with a peppy affirmation and a too-wide smile. Your mom tries next, with similar results. They know you aren’t okay, but they can’t say anything about it. Neither can Heather or Kimmie or Joyce. You become a blip on a hectic radar, an island in the South Pacific so small the rest of the world flies over it without even looking down. The house is hot and teeming with bodies: friends and lovers laughing together, touching each other, chatting, kissing lips and throats and cheeks. The living room suddenly feels like it’s on fire, like there’s searing smoke pouring into your lungs. You tell your friends you’re going to the bathroom so they’ll leave you alone, and then you squeeze through the crowd and flee out into the backyard, which is blessedly empty. Everyone else has crammed inside to watch the tv as the clock nears midnight. No one wants to miss the ball drop. You couldn’t care less.

You plod through the snow in your ridiculous red heels until you reach the firepit, and you stand there glaring into the blaze with your bare arms wrapped around you. There is light snow falling, but you don’t even feel cold. You feel like you’re burning from the inside out, like you’ve swallowed the same flames that are dancing across your face.

He’s not going to show up, you are certain now. He’s really not going to. And he knew that all along, which is why he didn’t want me to drive him.

You feel furious, you feel ruined, but most of all you just feel stupid. You’ve heard this story before. You were a part of it, you were built by it. And yet somehow you thought you could change the ending.

Wind howls through the evergreen trees, and now you are cold. You clutch yourself tighter, shivering viciously and covered in goosebumps. You’re stuck out here; there are tears spilling down your cheeks, black trails of mascara that will scream to anyone who sees you that you’ve been crying. Crying over Aegon. Crying over some fucking alcoholic loser who stood me up.

Of course, you don’t actually think he’s a loser. That’s the problem. Everyone seems to understand exactly who he is but you.

You hear the back door of the house swing open, and there are heavy footsteps crunching through the snow. You sniffle, trying to wipe the tears from your face with your fingers. You imagine that you’re only making it worse: stained foundation, smudged eyeliner, lip gloss worn away. You expect to see your dad when you turn around, but you don’t. You see Trent.

“Don’t freak out,” he says, and holds out your parka to you from several feet away. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just saw you run outside and figured you might need this.”

“Did anyone else see me?”

“I don’t think so.”

You grab the parka from him, yank it on, and zip it shut. You sniffle some more, mopping tears from your face. The stars and moon are almost fully obscured by clouds; the only light in the world is fire. After a while, you ask Trent: “What did Heather tell you?”

“She said that you are a mature, responsible, logical person, and that if I want to have any shot with you at all then I have to be the same way. And she was totally right. Losing my temper is immature, being jealous is immature. So now I’m giving you the space that you asked for. I get it now. I’m not going to try to tell you what you want. You’re too smart for that. You have to decide what you want for yourself.”

I’ve already decided, and I chose wrong. I chose so, so, disastrously wrong. “I appreciate that, Trent,” you say in a hoarse whisper.

He turns around to go back inside, then hesitates. “Look, I’m glad that you and Aegon are friends now. He’s not a bad guy. But he’s…I mean, he’s a mess, you know? And he’s always going to be a mess. And you can’t expect him to not be a mess. I’m sorry if he ruined something for you tonight. I know your family has sort of temporarily adopted him, and I know you like to fix things. But sometimes there are no bolts to tighten or nails to hammer in. Sometimes people just are who they are.”

You consider Trent, a mirage of bitter cold and firelight. He shrugs, offers a sheepish half-smile, flips his hair, and then retreats inside the house. Minutes later, as you try to choke back sobs under blind stars, you hear cheers and applause when the new millennium arrives.

As car doors slam and guests rummage through piles of coats, you slip mostly unnoticed into the kitchen. You pour yourself a full glass of water, drink all of it, and then make for your purse where your Jeep keys are stashed. You are intercepted in the dining room by your parents and Heather. You try to hide your face, but there’s no point. You are as clear as glass under the yellowish artificial light.

“Oh, ladybug, are you okay?” Your mom engulfs you in a warm, comforting hug that is also constraining. I have to try to find Aegon. I have to confront him. Not who I want him to be, but who he really is.

“I’m fine, Mom. I’m fine. I’ll be back in like a half hour, and then I’ll help you clean up the house.”

“The house!” your dad bellows, barking out a laugh of disbelief. “We aren’t worried about the house! What can we do, ladybug? Is there anything we can do?”

“No, really, I can handle it.”

“You can’t go anywhere alone,” Heather says. “It’s dark, it’s super late.” The other fact hangs in the air like snowflakes. The Ice Fisher might be out there somewhere, just waiting to snatch you off the sidewalk and sink you into a lake.

“It’s just across town, it’s a ten-minute drive, it’s not a big deal.”

“You can’t go out alone,” your dad insists, looking gratefully at Heather. Your mom nods along. “I’m sorry, but if something happened to you, we’d never be able to forgive ourselves.”

“I’ll go,” Heather says. “I think I’ve had too much champaign to drive, but I can ride along and walk you inside.”

“That’s completely unnecessary. I have my bear mace.”

“Then I’ll wait in the Jeep!” Heather throws up her hands, exasperated. “Look, bitch, one way or another someone is going with you. I’ll make sure you get up to his apartment—that’s where you’re going, right? I think we all know that’s where you’re going—and then I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait five minutes, I’ll wait five hours, I really don’t care how long it takes but there is no fucking way you’re driving off into the night alone.”

You aren’t leaving this house without a chaperone. That’s pretty obvious. Aegon doesn’t care where I am or who I’m with. He didn’t even care enough to call and say he wouldn’t be here. “Fine. Okay. But we’re leaving right now.”

You grab your purse and Heather follows you out to the Jeep, struggling to keep up. “I would not have guessed you could move so efficiently in heels,” she puffs, climbing into the passenger’s seat. You tear out of the driveway, tires chomping on salt and ice and snow. Heather tries to make conversation. You don’t quite ignore her; it’s more like you don’t hear her at all. You hear the wind and the snow and the blood rushing in your ears. You hear the shrieking hollowness left by what could have been.

You park under the streetlight outside Aegon’s apartment building, murky luminescence flooding the cabin of your Jeep. Heather sees the inky tears on your face…and she sees the rage too: raw, brutal, razor-sharp rage. “Well, Jesus Christ, don’t kill him or anything.”

You don’t reply. You venture out into the savage cold, your heels leaving deep punctures in the ice-coated snow like stab wounds.

Upstairs, Aegon’s apartment door is locked. You can’t hear anything on the other side. And as you rattle the key he gave you into the jagged slit of the knob, you feel a dark premonition sinking in: a pebble through waves, a body into the depths. There is an instinctual warning that hums from your skin all the way down to your bone marrow.

There is no coming back from this moment. It’s like balancing on a ledge. There is something terrible here that I will never be able to unsee, to undiscover.

What is it? What the hell is it? That Aegon’s drunk? Would that really be so out of character, so inconceivable?

Maybe he’s with another woman. Maybe he’s already left Juneau. Maybe he’s dead.

You open the door; and in the silent florescent light of the kitchen, the first thing you notice is that the jar on top of the refrigerator is gone. Then you spot it: it’s open and sideways on the countertop, and it’s empty. Sunfyre lies on the kitchen’s tile floor with his scarred muzzle resting on his paws. He whimpers, large dark eyes troubled.

“Aegon?” you say. You step inside, your red heels clicking on the scuffed wood. You close the door behind you. Your eyes scan the dimly-lit room—guitar, bed, lifeless television, phone he left off the hook, couch—until you find him. He is a pale, crumpled figure on the floor. “Aegon?!”

You rush to him, dropping to your knees so hard you bruise them. He groans when you roll him over onto his back, so he’s not dead. He’s half-dressed: red leather pants, combat boots, gold chain necklace, no shirt. When you lift your hand from him, blood stains your palm.

“What—?”

And then you see the stripe of maroon dripping down from the crook of his left elbow. There’s a bloodied needle on the floor beside him, a lighter, a spoon. There’s a small transparent baggie half-filled with white powder.

Aegon blinks at you through his tangled hair, pulling himself upright with great effort. Everything about him is heavy, hazy, like trying to run through water. He doesn’t seem aware of the blood. It’s in his hair, you realize; and there’s a smear on his neck, a splattering on his bare chest. “What are you so dressed up for?”

You can’t answer him. You’re so full of horror and rage that if you open your mouth you might start screaming and never stop.

“Oh,” Aegon remembers listlessly. “Party.”

“I watched the door all night like an idiot, like some desperate little kid”—waiting for their father to come home—“and the whole time you were here shooting up.”

He gazes at you, but from a distance, like he’s looking up from the bottom of the ocean and you’re the shadow of a ship. His voice is slow and muddled. “Yeah.”

“And I guess that’s where all the money went. The money for the San Diego trip.”

“Yeah.”

“How fucking dare you,” you hiss. You grab the baggie off the floor.

Aegon’s hand darts out and closes around your wrist. “No—!”

You rip your arm away from him. “This is heroin, right?” You catch a fistful of his hair and yank his head back so you can check his eyes. Aegon flinches and yelps, but he doesn’t struggle. His eyes are bloodshot, his pupils pinpricks in an ocean of deep blue. “How fucking dare you,” you say again. “How fucking dare you.”

You take the baggie to the kitchen sink, shove it down into the drain, turn on the garbage disposal. You run water down the drain until any trace of it is gone. When you return to Aegon, he’s watching you with those dazed, other-world eyes. He’s still slumped over on the floor; he doesn’t seem to be able to stand. He keeps trying to and flopping over.

“If you’re so mad then hit me,” he says. “Just hit me. Just fucking hit me.”

“Why did you have to come here?” you ask, wrenching the question out of you like extracting a molar or a bullet. Fresh tears brim in your eyes; embers kindle in your throat. You think of how hundreds of years ago doctors believed that you could bleed a patient to rid them of poison or disease, and you wonder how much of yourself you would have to spill into a bowl to forget Aegon. You wonder if your mom has ever forgotten a single thing about Jesse: his voice, his fingertips, the way his hair fell across his face. “If you were just going to make me want something that was never possible, if you were just going to show me what it felt like to be real and then take it away, what was the point? What was the goddamn point? Why did you have to come here and ruin my life?”

“You didn’t like your life before I showed up and you won’t like it when I’m gone.”

“I hate you,” you choke out.

Aegon’s jaw falls open. He can’t believe you said it. Neither can you.

“I want you to leave,” you tell him. “Tomorrow when you sober up I want you to pack your things and get on a plane and leave Juneau like you left everywhere else. I don’t want to know where you go next. I don’t want to know anything about you. I never want to see you again.”

“No.” You can’t tell if it’s defiance or denial or confusion. You don’t stay to argue with him.

You go to the apartment door, open it, and call to Sunfyre: “Come on, buddy.” He rockets off the tiles and trots over, tail wagging cautiously.

“Hey, hey, you can’t take my dog!” Aegon shouts, dragging himself towards you. His hands and knees thump against the wooden floor.

“Yes I can. You can’t be trusted with him. You don’t deserve him.”

“Please don’t,” Aegon whispers huskily. “Don’t take him away. Please.”

You twist his apartment key off your keyring and pitch it at him. It strikes his shoulder and ricochets off, clattering across the floor. He looks at it, not understanding. It’s a dead language, it’s an ancient rune he can’t read. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to. “Goodbye, Aegon.”

You slam the door, fly down the building staircase, break into the cold all-consuming darkness with Sunfyre on your heels like a shadow made of gold.

[sapphic-bats]

It all started on Eddie's birthday.

Dustin had adamantly insisted that they host a party, to which Eddie relented, amused. After all, he had never really had a party before. They bought cake, invited everyone to Steve's, and decorated the house in colors that Eddie was baffled to see. I mean, who decorated for something as insignificant as a birthday celebration?

The gifts started out reasonably cheap for last-minute presents. It was more than Eddie had ever gotten, lest Wayne would buy him a very important gift every year, having saved up money since Eddie's last birthday. Dustin bought him more D&D books and a few sets of multi-colored dice. Mike handed him a small, cardboard necklace box that previously held a pendant of Nancy's, and now held all sorts of shiny, iridescent guitar picks. Will blushed, unused to praise, at the gratitude he received for a beautiful portrait of the Hellfire Club mascot in all its glory. Erica and Lucas gifted him a Mettalica t-shirt, one that wasn't currently sitting in Eddie's collection. So on, so on.

Until it reached Steve.

He laughed as everyone cheered at him, egging him on persistently until he gave in and placed the small box in front of Eddie.

The man grinned and cracked open the case, staring down at a beautiful onyx ring, embossed with a bat-shaped gem embedded into the center. His eyes widened, gaping at the object before a wolfish smile broke upon his face.

He looked up at Steve. "So soon? You haven't even asked me out to dinner yet."

Steve laughed, a twinge of sheepishness glinting through, though melting away with Eddie's jest. "You wish. No," He smiled. "I saw it in a store and... I thought of you."

The other man inspected it suspiciously. "How much did this even cost?" He scoffed aloud.

Steve said nothing.

Eddie now peered back up at the man scrutinizingly. "Steve. How much did this cost?"

"Ah, um," The brunette sucked on his bottom lip stubbornly. "Yeah, no. Robs, you're up."

As Robin went on to endow her present, Eddie snuck sneering glares of inquiry at Steve. Eventually, he acquiesced, but he never forgot the gift and its donor.

[]

One last "Vecna" scare.

Vines has seeped into the Right Side Up, thrashing around like their beastly counterparts, both bats and dogs together. One last mission before Vecna had died, one that they had not forgotten in their months in the opposing realm, waiting for an opportunity to carry out their orders of their deceased master.

Eddie took a drag from his cigarette before handing it to Steve. They were on night watch duty while the others gathered materials. Steve exhaled shakily, then inhaled from the cigarette.

"So, this is it."

Steve frowned, glancing over to rest his eyes on Eddie. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, this could be our last battle, and we know it." The man laughed humorlessly. "Everyone knows it, I see it weighing down the kids, and... eh, I dunno. It sucks, man."

Steve nodded, eyebrows lowering in empathy. "Yeah, I feel it too." He shuddered. "As long as we stick together this time, everything will be fine."

There was a pause for a moment, before Eddie took the cigarette from Steve and gripped the man's hands.

"Hey, promise me that if anything goes south, take the kids and run. I can fend for myself."

Steve recoiled, something akin to anger flashing on his face. "Can you? Because the last time you played hero, you died."

But Eddie wasn't perturbed. "I know. But it's a lot better than risking a casualty among the kids." He gazed down sadly, almost regrettably.

"Listen, Eddie. Our party doesn't just abandon our members when things look rough. We're not gonna let you get hurt, not this time." He glared at him, directly in the eyes. "But you have to do your part, and not try to do hero shit. You just completely disregarded my instructions!"

Eddie still wouldn't meet Steve's eyes. "So what do you want me to tell you?" Frustration laced his voice gingerly.

"I don't know, but you can do a lot better than just, 'Make him pay.'"

A silence hung in the air, and Eddie sighed.

"That's not what I was going to say."

Steve looked over.

"'Make him pay'? That wasn't what I really wanted to say." Eddie reiterated.

A pause. "What... were you going to say?"

Eddie inhaled deeply, meditatively, as if preparing to reveal something he wished to have kept buried, however it killed him.

"I was going to tell you I loved you."

Another hesitation.

"You... love me?"

Eddie nodded, finally meeting Steve's gaze. "And I can't die without telling you first."

He could swear his heartbeat raised about twenty percent, breathing hastened, hands shaking. Steve knew it was now or never.

All of his life, he had taken risks for other people. It was time he took one for himself.

He leaned forwards and kissed Eddie, shock rippling through the other for a mere moment before he kissed back, taking the man in his arms. They stood there for a moment, tasting skin and dark salt and cigarette smoke, and though the combination might sound repulsive, soon a citrus-sweet flavor began to bloom between it. They parted, heaving with the energy they'd sacrificed and the adrenaline they had created.

"I love you too." Steve gasped, something glistening near his waterline, shining like raindrops on the windshield of a car. It felt so good to finally be the one to say it back.

Eddie laughed victoriously, a feat of his nerves well over, rejection far behind them. Steve couldn't help but laugh too, still entwined in the other's grasp.

"Steve, I love you so much I could marry you right now." He joked, his fit of laughter still shaking him.

He didn't know what came over him, but Steve grinned. "So do it."

The laughter died in astonishment. "Wha- really?"

Steve nodded, furrowing his brows in ridicule of something almost unspeakable. "Yeah, fuck whatever laws there are. Marry me."

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but there was no unsurety or regret in any word he spoke, nor was there a trace of either in his gleaming eyes. Eddie blinked, and soon his face mirrored Steve's simper.

"Well, then. Steve Harrington," He released Steve, dropping to one knee gracefully. "Love of my life, heir to the heavens, will you make me the happiest man in the world, and marry me?"

He had slid a ring of his off of his left hand, the skull ring that had previously resided on his ring-finger, and held it up to Steve in proposal.

The man wasted no time in seizing the ring from Eddie's open palm, and slipping it onto his own engagement finger. He pulled the man to his feet and kissed him again, this time smiling widely.

When they separated, Eddie smirked. "I believe we have one more step to the process?"

Steve smiled knowingly, knitting his brows in mock annoyance. He then held out his hand. "My weapon?"

The other slid the onyx ring off of his finger adjacent to his middle, the middle finger which was adorned with an old ring that he now hastily moved to a separate finger on his right hand, along with the rest of his rings on the left. He dropped it into Steve's palm.

The man barely had any time to speak once he kneeled. "Eddie Munson, will you marry-"

He was interrupted by Eddie taking hold of his face on either side and pressing his lips to Steve's. He just about giggled. "Yes."

[]

And on October 6th, 2014, their rings, never once removed, touched together while they laced their fingers in front of the TV as it spoke the headline, "Gay Marriage Now Legalized In Indiana".

(Go follow my Ao3, Pink_October_Bones! I'm in the final stage of editing some stories, and will be posting thousands of words-worth of fan fictions soon!)