#never in a million years nuh uh

[countjortula]

guess what count jortula is watching!

[areislol]

"i'm gonna marry mama when i'm older!"

pairings. argenti, aventurine, blade, boothill, dr. ratio, gallagher, gepard, dan heng/imbibitor lunae, jing yuan, luocha, sampo, welt, jiaoqiu, moze x afab/fem! reader

warnings. fluff, wife! reader, use of "mama", "papa" and "mommy" and "daddy", [c/n] = child's name, sampo being sampo, lots of girl dads

a/n. baby fever hit me. #foreverwithmybabydaddy

wordcount. 4.7k

synopsis. how do they react to their child wanting to marry you, his wife?

playfully teases your child

sampo —

✧ "well, well, seems like i've got a little competitor! but you’ll need more than charm to steal your mom away from me!"

✧😐😐 <- how he actually feels inside

✧ listen, sampo LOVES his little him to DEATH. but for some odd reason hearing his son suddenly burst out saying that he was going to marry you made his face go all sour and ugly.

✧ but he knows that he you would never allow that and that it was all fun and games, still, his smirk grows larger as his son barks back. "nuh uh!! mama loves me more than you, so i will marry mama first! not you!"

✧ a loud, audible, dramatic, heartbroken, gasp can be heard from sampo's wide open mouth, letting out a strangled noise. "you!! never!! my wife loves me more than you!" you let out an exasperated sigh, watching as your husband and your son bickered back and fourth on who you loved more.

✧ "c'mon!! tell him that you love me more than him!" "that would break his heart, sampo! absolutely not!" "but... he's breaking my heart..." ah, there goes his little pout and his puppy eyes that always magically work on you.

✧ "come on... please? pretty please? I'M BEGGING YOU I'M LOSING THIS ARGUMENT TO OUR SON!!!"

✧ your eyes flicker between sampo and your son. sampo is begging you, clinging onto the hem of your shirt as his kneels down while your son on the other hand is staring at his father in confusion and.. embarrassment? you stifled your laughter back, the sight of your six-year-old child giving his own dad a stink eye was hilarious.

✧ "are you laughing at me...?" sampo looks up at your face, eyeing your expressions and follows your gaze, turning his head he faces his son who stares right back at him. "oh..."

✧ "daddy why are you always doing weird things?"

aventurine —

✧ aventurine would laugh heartily and say, "oh, planning to take my spot, are you? well, you’ve got some big shoes to fill!" he’d probably challenge his child to a fun, friendly competition to see who can win over their mom’s heart.

✧ he knows that his child actually has no chance in marrying you, but hey, it's worth a shot to see how far they'll actually go.

✧ "babe!! little [c/n] here wants to marry you~" he says, beckoning for you to side beside him, your child's eyes sparkled at the sight of you sitting down beside him, they grip on your leg, hugging it tightly.

✧ "can i really marry you when i'm older?" you cock your head to the side, eyeing aventurine and your child. "what's all this about?" you asked, aventurine simply pulled you in close to him, his arm wrapped around your waist as he hoists his child up and onto his lap. "mmm... nothing really. so, who do you want to marry, me or this little kid here?"

✧ you caressed your child's hair, letting out a hum in thought. "well... [c/n] i'm already married to daddy..." you replied, and gosh do you feel your heart crumble into a million pieces when you see your child pout, their chubby cheeks prominent. b—but..."

✧ "it's alright sweetie, you can still try, but i don't think mommy will ever marry you—" "WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" "WHY ARE YOU—"

✧ in the end you calm your baby down with aventurine who's gripping his shirt over his heart. both you and aventurine settled on letting your child compete with his dad in trying to prove themselves to "marry you one day". once they're put to sleep in their room, aventurine hugs you from behind, his arms snaking around your waist.

✧ "you only want me, right?" he sighed, face nuzzling in your neck. "well of course you're my husband. but don't get their hopes up too high okay? or else they might start crying in your ears again." you laughed. aventurine only let out yet another sigh, leading you away from your child's room.

✧ "child or not i don't want anyone else who wants to be with my wife."

moze —

✧ moze immediately perked his ehad up at the sound of his daughter's voice.. wait.. did he hear her correctly?

✧ though his face remained stoic as ever, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. he turns to his child, raising an eyebrow with his typical quiet intensity. "you want to marry your mother?" he asks, his voice low but carrying just the right amount of teasing. "you’re going to have to be real smooth if you want to outshine me."

✧ his gaze flicks to you for just a second, a glint of warmth in his otherwise composed demeanour. then, in true moze fashion, he quickly shifted gears, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, as he continued to joke around with his child.

✧ "do you even have a plan? flowers? chocolates? you’re up against some serious competition here," moze adds, his tone dry but playful.

✧ despite his typically reserved nature (but over time you got to really know the true moze and not the 'crow feathered weirdo'), moze had a way of making these rare moments with his family feel special. he ruffles his child’s hair, his smirk widens slightly. "maybe i’ll teach you a thing or two, but you’ll need to practice. being this smooth doesn’t come easy."

✧ moze glances at you again, his silent affection shining through in the way his eyes softened when they landed on you. though he wasn’t one for long speeches or grand gestures, his love for his family was always clear in these moments.

✧ he continues keeping his child entertained with more jokes and a rare display of his dry wit. though he acted cool and composed, these were the moments that he held onto, the ones that made him forget, if only for a while, about the covert world he was usually immersed in.

✧ "seems like i've got competition.. i won't easily be beaten though."

overprotective about you

gepard —

✧ gepard would likely have a soft, almost tender smile when he hears his child say they want to marry you, their mother, his wife. his voice would be gentle, filled with a mixture of pride and love.

✧ "marrying your mother is an honor and a responsibility. you must be ready to protect and care for her, just as i do."

✧ he would explain that love is about more than just affection—it's about commitment, duty, and being there for each other through thick and thin. kneeling down to his child’s level, he places a hand on his child’s shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze as he speaks.

✧ "if you're willing to do all those things then i think mommy wouldn't mind if you proposed to her." and oh does he thank the lord every day for blessing him with his child whose eyes sparkled at his encouraging words. "mhm mhm! i will!" and such chubby cheeks too.. he pinches them affectionately, a tender smile on his face.

✧ even after the conversation ends, he gazes lovingly at you, feeling grateful for the family you've built together.

✧ gepard stands behind you, arms snaked around your waist, his much larger and warm palms resting on your stomach, he hums softly on your head, kneading the soft fabric of your shirt. yeah, he could definitely get used to this life.

✧ "maybe [c/n] wouldn't mind another sibling, hm?"

blade —

✧ blade’s initial reaction would be a mix of surprise and seriousness. (though your daughter probably can't read his expression) you were out shopping and left your child an your husband together in her room, it was trashed with toys, toys and more toys...

✧ blade was subjected to his daughter's antics, but of course he allowed her to do her thing (reluctantly). out of nowhere, she spoke, her words catching him off guard.

✧ "i'm gonna marry mama!" "...no you won't." "i will!" "...."

✧ "......................................................"

✧ blade leans down slightly, his intense gaze locking with his child’s eyes. there’s a seriousness to him, one that contrasts with the lightheartedness of the situation. his voice is calm yet firm

✧ "love is not something to be taken lightly," he begins, his tone gentle but unwavering. he wants his child to understand that while the sentiment is touching, the reality behind such words is far more intricate. "when you say such things, make sure you understand the weight of your words."

✧ weight?? of your words?? what does that even mean???? <- your poor, confused child. blade sighs, what was he thinking? could this little child of his understand his words?

✧ blade watches his child closely, looking for signs of understanding despite knowing that inside the depths of his daughter's eyes, is nothing. just pure bliss and not living naively in the world.

✧ he’s aware that she's still young, that the world of love and marriage is something that shouldn't concern them (blade is never letting his precious daughter marry anyone let alone DATE). yet, he also knows that these early lessons are important. he wishes to prepare her, to ensure she grows up strong and resilient.

✧ blade’s gaze softens just slightly, though his posture remains firm. he’s not one to easily show affection, but there’s a quiet tenderness in the way he holds himself at this moment. his child’s innocent declaration has stirred something within him, something he rarely allows himself to feel. ✧ "alright alright, fine. stop sulking."

✧ "YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!"

boothill —

✧ "you’re serious about that, huh? well, you’ve got to be strong and steady if you want to take care of someone like your mother."

✧ gosh, he's just so elated with the fact that little him gets him!! like, who wouldn't want to marry you? exactly!!! he gets it!!

✧ his rugged exterior momentarily softened by their innocent declaration. his voice would be slightly gruff, but there's an underlying warmth that shows how much he cares.

✧ when his child suddenly declares that they want to marry their mother when they grow up, he doesn’t make a big show of it. instead, he quietly observes the interaction, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corners of his lips. boothill gives his child a small and gentle squeeze on the shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly, acknowledging the sweetness of the moment, but he doesn’t say much.

✧ but deep down, boothill just wants to lunge himself at his child, smothering them in his love, but refrains from doing so, remembering your words. "don't tackle him or anything, he's still small and fragile!!"

✧ ruffling his hair, boothill picks up his son up in his arms, a grin forming on his lips as he feels the all too familiar grubby hands gripping his hat, tilting it to the side, a fit of giggles erupted, apparently the sight of his hat covering the side of his face was hilarious.

✧ "is it really that funny, junior?" he sighed, carefully hoisting him up to make it more comfortable for the both of them. "ah whatever, let's wait for mama to come back from shopping alright?"

✧ at the mention of your name your son's head perks up, stopping his giggles. "mama!" he exclaims, this time fully yanking his hat off. boothill shakes his head at his actions.

✧ he knows that love is complicated, something that can’t be fully understood at a young age. to him, this is a reminder of the purity of a child’s love—something untainted by the complexities of adult life.

the romantic

jing yuan —

✧ "ah, you’ve got good taste, my little one. but remember, love is a journey, one that requires patience and understanding." he’d likely share a romantic story or two, expressing his deep affection for you, his wife.

✧ jing yuan would smile warmly at his girl's declaration. how sweet of her to be wed to you, although he knows it's impossible, he couldn't break his sweet child's heart.

✧ jing yuan would chuckle softly, his hand ruffling his little one's hair as she gazed up at him with bright, innocent eyes. "you've got quite the ambition, my dear."

✧ his golden eyes would soften as he exchanged a warm glance with you, his wife. "i think mommy might like that idea," he’d tease, his deep voice carrying a note of affection.

✧ kneeling down to his child's height, jing yuan leans in closer, his smile widening. "but you know, love isn't just about weddings or promises. it’s about cherishing someone every day, even in the little things."

✧ he’d pull you both into a gentle embrace, his strong arms encircling his family. "besides, your mother already has my heart. but maybe… just maybe, you can help me take care of her, too."

✧ the child would beam, feeling proud and important, while jing yuan would place a soft kiss on your forehead, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "looks like i’ve got some competition," he'd say playfully, causing you both to laugh.

✧ later, as he tucks your little one into bed and he whispers, "you’ll find your own special someone one day, but for now, let’s make sure mommy knows how much we both love her."

imbibitor lunae —

✧ a soft, knowing smile would spread on his face, his ethereal gaze settling on his child with a tender warmth. "ah, to marry your mother… a noble thought indeed. the bond between two souls is sacred, built on trust and mutual respect," he’d say, his voice as serene as a breeze.

✧ he then turns his gaze to you, his eyes reflecting centuries of love. "your mother is a rare treasure indeed, and i’m glad to see you understand this at such a young age." His words are gentle yet profound.

✧ kneeling down gracefully, he’d gently lift his child’s hand, brushing a thumb across their tiny fingers. "but love is not something to be rushed. it’s like the moon in its cycle—waxing, waning, yet always returning to full."

✧ imbibitor lunae would most likely recite a beautiful verse from an ancient text, encapsulating the sacredness of love and family: “like the stars embracing the night sky, so too shall our hearts stay intertwined across the ages.”

✧ with a chuckle, he’d then stroke the child’s cheek softly. "but until you’re older, why not help me look after her? there��s much to learn in the way of love and care."

✧ he’d then pull both you and your child close, his comforting and grounding presence enveloping the moment in peace. "together, we are strong. perhaps one day, you’ll find your own soul to cherish as I do your mother."

argenti —

✧ argenti throws his head back with a booming laugh, his hand ruffling his child’s hair with infectious enthusiasm. "ah, such noble sentiments! you wish to marry your mother? how valiant!" his eyes would gleam with pride, and he’d turn to you with an exaggerated, theatrical gasp. "it seems i’ve been bested by our own child!"

✧ with a dramatic flourish, he’d lift you off your feet, spinning you in a playful circle before setting you down (with you playfully smacking his arm), his voice filled with lightheartedness.

✧ "but alas! your mother has already claimed my heart, dear one."

✧ to celebrate his child’s declaration (yes, have i ever mentioned that argenti is absolutely dramatic??), argenti would likely organize a spontaneous "family adventure." he’d gather some flowers from a nearby meadow or call forth a small spectacle of radiant lights from his sword, creating a miniature show. "we shall offer these as a tribute to the queen of our hearts—your mother!"

✧ he would encourage the child to present the gathered flowers or lights to you, his smile proud as his child participated in the grand romantic gesture. "together, we shall shower her with the love and admiration she so rightfully deserves!"

✧ later, as you all relaxed beneath the stars, argenti would point to the sky, his voice soft yet brimming with passion. "you see those stars, little one? each one shines with the love i have for your mother. and someday, you will understand how to shine just as brightly."

✧ argenti has never been prouder of his little one. "for now, my brave one, let’s continue showering her with love, for the greatest battles are not won with swords but with the heart."

the pragamtist (will break your child's heart)

welt —

✧ welt smiles slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting in that thoughtful, knowing way of his. "that’s very sweet of you," he’d say, his voice calm and reassuring. "but your mother and i are already committed to each other."

✧ uh oh. he can his child's bottom lip quiver.. wait.. no.. he didn't mean it—wait—!!

✧ "WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHY DID YOU TAKE MOMMY AWAAAYY" ah.. there it is.. oh woe is welt. and so as your child wails and fat tears roll down his cheeks your ears perk up, obviously worried for your child who is quite literally screaming his lungs out.

✧ you walk out of your room and into the living room where you see welt trying his best to calm down his son, majority of the time welt does an amazing job in soothing him to sleep and cease his yowling but today? right now? it seems like no matter what welt tried it was to no avail.

✧ "what's going on?" you asked, raising a brow at this odd scene before you. taking a seat beside your son he quickly wastes no time in latching onto you, his chubby arms barely wrapped around your waist, his head squished against your thigh.

✧ you give welt a look. he sighs, staring down at his son who has successfully calmed down. "you see, [c/n] wants to marry you when he's older..." he begins, watching your reaction. "mhm.." you hummed, signalling for him to continue. "and i told him that we were already married."

✧ "... is that so..?" you giggled, looking down at your son who's gripping onto the fabric of your pants. "is that right, [c/n]?" your son slowly lifts his head up, an adorable pout on his lips. he stares at you before pointing at your husband.

✧ "daddy took mommy away!" he yells angrily, if it was possible, there would be steam coming out of your baby's ear.

✧ welt winces at the voice his child uses before speaking up. "you see, love is about understanding and growing with another person. it’s not just about wanting to be with someone—it’s about supporting them, no matter what."

✧ ??? "???? welt you're speaking to him as if he can understand."

✧ "oh, right." welt clears his throat, holding his son's much smaller hands in his own. "son, i understand that you love your mommy very much but..." he glances over at you. "me and mommy are already.. together. and mommy can't marry you because—"

✧ "WHY CAN'T I MARRY MOMMY" yet another session of crying begins. welt is practically dumbfounded.

✧ you click your tongue, lifting your son up into your arms, cradling him and patting his back. "shh, it's okay. daddy knows nothing... you can marry mommy if you want!" you cooed.

✧ "what—"

dr. ratio —

✧ raising an eyebrow at his child’s declaration he closes his book, his attention now fully on his child. " so you want to marry your mother, huh? well, while your intention is admirable, there’s a lot more to it than just saying 'i do.' you see, relationships are like a complex equation—variables, constants, and sometimes, unknown factors."

✧ 😐 dr ratio your child can barely answer do division calm down

✧ 'this is a great opporunity!' he thinks as he starts pacing, hands waving in the air as he speaks. "now, love, that’s the x factor! you can’t quantify it, but it changes everything. you might think it’s simple, but oh no, it’s much like trying to balance a chemical formula—get one thing wrong, and, well, it could blow up in your face!" he’d smile, amused by his own analogy.

✧ turning to you with a smirk, he’d nod. "your mother here—she's like the most elegant solution to the most complicated equation in my life."

✧ he’d then sit down beside his child, crossing his legs and leaning forward as if revealing a secret. "one day, you’ll find your perfect match—your own variable to balance things out. it’s like an ongoing experiment in life. but don't rush it! you’ve got plenty of time to gather data, test hypotheses, and figure out what works best for you."

✧ "and if you ever need help, your dad's here for you." with a grin, he’d ruffle their hair in a show of affection. "for now, though, we’ve got a pretty solid family unit here. no need to add more variables just yet." he hums.

✧ as he continued to ramble, you entered the room, finding your husband somewhat lecturing your child. he turns to you with a softer gaze. "our little one will understand it all someday. love is just like… oh, I don’t know, maybe quantum entanglement. two particles, forever linked no matter the distance."

✧ "what wont they understand?" you asked, wiping your hands off of the towel. "also dinner's ready. eating butter chicken today!" you chirped, walking back out and beginning to set the plates down on the table.

✧ eventually, dr. ratio would lean back, satisfied with his explanation. "do you understand?"

✧ your child nods their head eagerly, a wide and happy smile plastered on their face. "mhm!" but dr. ratio knows better.

✧ even if your child doesn't understand their father, that's fine. dr ratio loves them much more than others... he wouldn't mind giving them extra lessons to fully wrap the logic around their little head.

gallagher —

✧ though slovenly but content, he smiled gently as he listened to his daughter’s declaration. he was dressed in his usual disheveled manner—shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, and an apron stained with coffee and whiskey splashes.

✧ “marry your mother, huh?” he’d say with a soft chuckle, glancing over at you with warmth. "that’s quite the bold statement, kiddo." his daughter does nothing but gaze up lovingly at her dad, awaiting his advice.

✧ the three of you were seated in his usual haunt, a cozy corner of his bar where he’d brought you along for some family time—though even now, he remained courteous, casually nodding at a few patrons who passed by.

✧ wiping down a glass, gallagher would take a moment to think, his vigilance never fully dropping even in such a relaxed setting. "marriage," he’d begin, wiping his hands on his apron, "it’s not something you just do because it sounds nice."

✧ he’d glance at you with a half-smirk, then return his gaze to his daughter. "you see, love—it’s like making the perfect cocktail. you’ve got to find just the right ingredients, mix ’em carefully, and sometimes let it sit before you know it’s ready. rushing it? well, that’s how you end up with a bitter drink."

✧ there goes gallagher and his cocktail analogy.

✧ he tosses a rag over his shoulder, leaning forward, resting his arms on the table. "someone who fits with you like how your mother and i fit together. but don’t go ordering the drink before you’re ready for it, you know?"

✧ you smiled at your daughter, ruffling her hair. "why do you want to marry me, [c/n]?" your daughter turns to you, eyes sparkling with admiration. "because mama is pretty!"

✧ "🥺🥺 oh baby..." brb you're gonna go bawl your eyes out now.

✧ as you hoist your daughter into your arms and hug her tightly, gushing about how adorable she is and that you're the luckiest mother alive, gallagher finishes drying the glasses and watches the both of you with such a soft gaze that siobhan isn't sure if this is the gallagher that she knows, but everyone has their secrets.

✧ "for now," he says—interrupting your little moment— before sliding another glass your way, "we’ve got each other, and that’s more than enough. we’re a solid team. although I'm not sure if i appreciate you trying to steal my wife from me..."

"what did you just say"

jiaoqiu —

✧ jiaoqiu’s ears twitch the moment he heard his daughter’s innocent declaration, his sharp hearing picking up every word. "what did you just say?" his tone shows a hint of jealousy, his eyes narrowing slightly before he caught himself, realizing who had spoken.

✧ this was his daughter, after all—still innocent, still sweet, and still adorable as ever.

✧ clearing his throat and quickly composing himself, jiaoqiu smiled ever so softly, despite not being able to see, he had become accustomed to pinpointing where exactly a person was.

✧ "that is so sweet of you," he say, his voice now softening with affection. his tail flicks in amusement, but there would be no mistaking the tenderness in his tone. "your mother is truly special, isn’t she?"

✧ he pats his daughter's head, his expression full of warmth as he hears her giggle. "you’ve got good taste, of course. but let me tell you, your mom’s already been swept off her feet by someone else—yours truly."

✧ he pulls his daughter close, jiaoqiu ruffles her hair, his grin never fading. "keep that loving heart of yours, and i promise, one day you’ll find someone just as perfect for you. Someone who may or may not outweigh me in terms of cooking.."

✧ jiaoqiu lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he hears his daughter giggle, shaking her head. "just make sure you bring them to me first. i’ll need to give them the old ‘jiaoqiu test,’ alright?"

✧ "oh and make sure they have good taste in food, otherwise they aren't worth it. haha, just kidding.."

luocha —

✧ his green eyes widened slightly at the innocent declaration, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he processed what his daughter had said. luocha gracefully bent down, just enough to meet his daughter's gaze, his golden hair cascading over his shoulders like threads of light.

✧ the tender amusement in his expression didn’t hide the warmth in his eyes as he replied, “you want to marry your mother?”

✧ he paused for a moment as if savouring the sweetness of the moment, before gently pinching her cheeks. “that’s incredibly sweet of you, and it makes me happy to know how much love you have in your heart.” his voice was soft, as though he were speaking a secret known only to them.

✧ with a slow, deliberate motion, luocha brushed a strand of his daughter's hair back, tucking it neatly behind their ear. “but marriage,” he continued, his tone calm, “is a commitment, a bond built on trust and mutual care.”

✧ he glanced over at you (who is smiling like an absolutely mad woman), his smile deepening. “your mother is someone truly remarkable, isn’t she?” he let the words linger each one carrying its own weight. "i’m glad you see how special she is, just as i do.”

✧ luocha took his child’s small hand in his own, his long fingers curling gently around theirs. "you’ve got so much love to give, and that’s something to cherish. always hold onto that kindness, that love."

✧ standing tall again, his coat swaying behind him like a quiet whisper, luocha’s eyes softened even more as he gently lifted his child into his arms, holding them close. “for now,” he said, his voice tender but filled with certainty, “you’re already surrounded by love. our family is your home."

✧ he turns toward you, carrying your child effortlessly in one arm, his other hand reaching out to you. you gladly take it, the familiar warmth blossoming in your body as you feel his sweet gesture.

✧ luocha clears his throat. "that doesn't mean you can marry a boy, okay? boys are good for nothing.." "luocha!!" you frown, slapping his arm. your husband looks down at you, a sweet and innocent smile on his lips. "hm..? i didn't say anything," he hums before planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

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[dilfl0v3rss]

This but it’s toji🤭🤭 preferably with a bit of plot <3

i never wrote for toji before so i hope you like it😩

“i’m not fuckin wit you no more toji, you gotta go!” you spit. your arms crossed over your chest as you looked down at the large man on the couch. his scarred lips twitched into a smirk, his hands itching to move towards your waist but he kept them laid in their position on the top of the couch. your words didn’t phase the man at all, his eyes low and bored as he just ignored what you said a dug for his phone in his pocket. “don’t start wit me, i told you a million times ion know that girl. she came up t’me askin about a number and i told her no. you only mad cause i was being polite and smiled at her” his smirk only grew as he watched his words crawl under your skin, your jaw tightening as you tried your best not to attack this man.

“since you like t’smile so much go smile at shiu’s house.” his green eyes saddened at the sight of your sad ones, his hands moving instantly to pull you into his lap. toji brought his lips to your neck, lightly kissing and occasionally sucking the sensitive skin before whispering in your ear. “you really mad at me mama?” he said softly, making your eyes instantly go towards the ceiling. you avoided his gaze as you lightly nodded your head. toji couldn’t help but get a little turned on at how possessive you were. never in all his years of living did he think he’d end up with a women that would get so upset just from him smiling at another woman. the whole situation just made him incredibly horny and you felt it under you. “let me fix it”

“this is your dick so stop running from it” toji grunted, his hand snatching you back onto his dick by the back of your neck. you were tore up, your panties ripped and discarded somewhere in the room, your breasts bouncing under you as your bra was pulled down to the middle of your stomach, and your sheets completely soaked from the three other orgasms snatched from you. you had tried to tap out at least five times, but your man wasn’t having it. his dick just bullying it’s way even deeper into you as he tried to atone for his sins.

“toji ba-baby please just one break” you whined, trying once again to drag yourself away from his brutal pounding, but it was no use. toji just sighed, pulling out before flipping you over on your back. “nuh uh, i wasn’t bein a good boy so i gotta fix it before you leave me” he said, a shit eating grin on his face as he lifted your leg over his shoulder. he sucked and licked at the white paint of your toes as he pushed your other leg to your chest. you were completely stretched out, his thick dick making a bulge appear in your stomach as you screamed and cried into the air of the room.

you felt him everywhere all at once. you took in the sight of him. his low, sexy eyes staring down at you as he let his tongue swirl in between your toes. his dick reaching the deepest parts of you as he squeezed at the fatty flesh of your thigh. toji was a very handsome man and it was almost impossible for women and sometimes even men to not want to get at him when he’s seen in public, but no matter who came his way he always made sure to let it be known he was with you. toji noticed that you were deep into your mind right now, his scarred lip twitching into a smirk as he pushed his dick deeper inside of you, reaching so deep your vision began to whiten as you felt another orgasm begin to approach. “you still mad at me mama?” he said, sliding his hand from your thigh up to your neck before giving it a light squeeze.

“still mad at daddy for smiling at that girl?” toji knew you weren’t going to be able to answer, his dick punching your insides in a way that made your toes curl next to his face, but that didn’t stop him from leaving a couple light slaps to your cheek. “y’hear me ma? i know you can’t talk, but can you nod f’me?” you tried your best to follow the sound of his voice, your conscious fighting with your body as you gave him a slow nod. toji chuckled at the far away look in your watery eyes, his hand moving towards your breasts before giving them some attention. “good girl, you gonna make a mess on me?” he asked moving your leg from his shoulder before leaning down closer to your face. you lightly nodded again, back arching off the bed as you felt the tight coil in your stomach begin to snap.

toji just smiled, watching the entire scene unfold as you released all over him and the bed under you. “that’s good princess, doin real good f’me” he groaned, his release right behind yours. he gave you a couple more deep strokes before stopping, shooting his thick ropes deep inside you while leaving sloppy wet kisses all over your neck.

“i only have eyes for you pretty girl, don’t forget that”

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Inked surprises

What's better than getting tattoos? Surprising your wife with them!

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 1.4k • Warnings: vague mention of SH scars This is part of my series where I post small scenes I've written over the years that have never seen the light of day. Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

2028

The house was quiet, the bedroom semi-dark. Katya stood at the end of the bed in her pajamas, twisting the cap on the tube of tattoo cream. 

Her body vibrated with excitement. Way too much to sleep. The whole afternoon, she'd anticipated showing her wife what she'd really been doing in town today. It was a miracle she didn't blurt it out earlier, especially with the knowledge that Natasha would absolutely love the surprise, but she had an idea in mind and she wanted to execute it exactly the way she imagined. It was cheesy, but romantic, and would make it a million times better than if she were to simply take off her shirt.

Natasha just came out of the bathroom now, tying off the end of her braid. Her face glowed with the moisture of her skincare, and her presence brought along the smell of vanilla. Katya quickly tossed the tube of cream on the bed, trying to act casual as she smiled, but the movement caught Natasha's sharp eye. 

She stopped in her tracks. ''Is that…'' Her gaze flickered from the tube, to Katya's smug face, back to the tube, and then back to Katya's even smugger face. Her jaw slowly dropped when realization settled in. "Katariina, you did not."

Katya grinned widely. This wasn't the way she hoped this would go, but the response was exactly right. "I did." 

A dozen different emotions flickered behind Natasha's eyes. Playful disappointment, surprise, a hint of lust, but mostly excitement. She loved it when Katya got new tattoos as a surprise. "Show me.''

"Hmm…" Katya hummed in thought, pursing her lips. "No." 

"Please?"

"Begging already?" Katya chuckled when Natasha's face fell into an unimpressed stare. She was loving this power play already. Natasha not so much. "I have a riddle for you. Solve it, and it'll be your only hint."

Natasha scoffed. "A riddle? What am I? Four?"

"Fine.'' Katya shrugged, turning away to pick up the tube to toss it in her nightstand. ''No riddle, no tattoos."

Natasha stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest, watching Katya as she walked around the room. "What are you going to do? Hide your naked body from me for the rest of your life?" When it stayed unwaveringly silent, Natasha groaned in defeat. She knew Katya couldn't keep this up forever, but she could keep it up for a long time. And her own patience wasn't that good. "Give it to me."

With an excited smile, Katya abruptly turned back to her. "I am an odd number. Take away a letter and I become even. What number am I?"

She watched Natasha's face closely while she tried to figure it out. The gears visibly turned behind her eyes, searching for the answer. It wasn't too difficult of a riddle, it shouldn't take her smart brain long to get it. Not to Katya's surprise, she lit up quickly, puzzle pieces falling into place.

"You got seven tattoos?" Natasha hissed in disbelief, her arms slipping loose until they dangled by her sides. Her reaction was nearly comical. If this was a cartoon, her eyeballs would jump out of her head. "How small are they?!"

Katya chuckled slyly, slowly closing the distance between them. "Nuh-uh, you got your hint." The front of Natasha's shirt bunched up in her fist when she yanked her forwards into a kiss, catching her off guard again. 

It was so disorienting—the kiss and the earlier surprise—that Natasha barely managed to kiss her back, still reeling about seven new tattoos as Katya pulled her on top of her on the bed. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, years of practice helping Natasha unconsciously sort out this straddling-situation. Only the feeling of Katya's tongue tracing her bottom lip pulled her out of her haze. 

With a shake of her head, she pulled back, attempting to regain her composure. "Distracting me is not going to work."

Katya smirked up at her mysteriously, her brown hair a mess around her head. "I'm not trying to distract you, I'm trying to help you. But it won't work if you don't follow your instincts."

Natasha suspiciously narrowed her eyes at her. How was kissing going to help her out? "You are being so vague right now."

"Indulge me."

Defeatedly, Natasha sighed, going back to kissing her. As expected, she quickly lost the battle against her brain as the taste and feel of Katya's lips took over every other thought. She grew more eager, biting Katya's bottom lip playfully to pull the softest of whimpers from her right as her hand began to wander over her body. It came naturally, her movements, her needs guiding her.

Before long, Natasha had forgotten about the tattoos, the lust freely roaming her veins. Katya hooked a leg over her back and used the incredible strength in her thigh to yank her body down until it was flush against hers. A husky grunt flew from Natasha's lips, her heart starting to pound in her chest with anticipation of something more.

Eagerly, she left Katya's lips to trail the kisses up her jaw, nipping at the skin. Her lips followed the same path they always did, in search of that patch of soft skin right below her wife's left ear. A kiss to that place, and Katya—

Natasha froze. It was like someone hit her on the head and slammed out all the arousal that clouded her logical brain. Utterly confused, she snapped her head up, staring at the spot she meant to kiss. Katya's grinning eyes watched her process why the skin felt sticky.

There, directly below Katya's earlobe, sat a tiny heart, about half the size of her pinky's fingernail. It appeared Natasha found one of the tattoos. 

She frowned at it, finding the placement quite odd. Her gut told her there was more to it. What did Katya say again? Natasha fought through the haze of lust in her mind to recall her exact words from before.

Her instincts… Katya knew her instincts would bring her here, that her lips would end up going to that spot. Maybe that also meant—

Eager but carefully, Natasha pulled the neckline of Katya's shirt down, smiling to herself when that same outlined heart was tattooed on the top of her left breast, where her living, beating heart resided.

She was onto something.

Wordlessly, Katya sat up to help her remove her shirt all together. 

Another heart, right there on the outside of her right shoulder. 

Starting to get strangely giddy, Natasha gently twisted Katya's body around to confirm her suspicions on number four, at the very top of her spine, right between her shoulder blades. 

She was fully smiling now, tracing the shape with her finger. However, there didn't seem to be any other hearts on Katya's upper body.

Questioningly, Natasha glanced down at Katya's pants, then up at her grinning face again. They both knew she had figured it out by now, but it was fun to have her guess.

The inside of Katya's right knee. The inside of her left thigh, very close to the seam of her underwear. Those made six. But no matter how hard Natasha looked—curiously hooking her finger under the waistband of her underwear before Katya slapped her hand away—she couldn't seem to locate the last one.

"You're missing my favorite," Katya muttered as Natasha hovered over her, playing with the ends of Natasha's braid. That's when the redhead spotted it, on the inside of her wrist. Number seven. "There were many more spots, but then my whole body would be covered."

Natasha couldn't find any words to describe the feelings in her chest or the thoughts in her head. Katya had put a heart on her favorite spots to be kissed. By her.

"Do you like it?" Katya asked softly. It was a stupid question, the emotion was written all over Natasha's face. 

"I love them,'' she managed to squeeze out. Gently, she took Katya's hand in her own, kissing the heart on her scarred wrist. Her own heart felt like it was going to explode right out of her chest. ''But you know I don't need a map to know where you like to be kissed."

"You immediately knew where to find them…'' Katya whispered vulnerably, feeling so seen and so loved. 

''Of course I did, honey. How can I be your wife and not know all of you?'' Natasha smiled tenderly. This was the single most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. Tears burned behind her eyes as she stared deeply into Katya's. ''You want to know my favorite spot?''

Katya nodded, closing her eyes when Natasha leaned in. Her lips were ready to get their kiss, parting in anticipation, but they were never touched.

Her forehead tickled at the brush of a feather-light kiss.

[saeyoungchoismaid]

[3:00 pm]

“Alright, babe! I hope you’re ready for movie night!”

You turn your head from your spot on the couch to look at Ajax as he bursts in through the door. You smile upon seeing him, it only growing when you see the bags in his hands.

“Got everything?” you ask as you stand up, turning the tv on as he sets the bags on the table in front of the couch.

He scoffs at the question. “Uh yeah. What do you think I am? Some kind of amateur?” he sasses. You set the remote down and put your hands up in defense.

“Alright, alright, Mr. Sassy-Pants. Show me what you got then,” you reply with a smirk.

You see, once every month, you and Childe make sure you have time spared in your busy schedules to have movie night. It’s not just any movie night though. You go all out.

“Hope you’re ready cause I went just a little overboard,” he warns. You raise your brow at him but make no comment, patiently waiting for him to pull things out.

“Okay. First up, the jammies.” Upon saying this, he whips out the new pjs he got you both. You snort once he unfolds them to show you.

He got you matching Hello Kitty pajamas. “They’re beautiful, Ajax,” you coo, pretending to wipe a tear from your eye.

“Fuck yeah they are!” he cheers, throwing your pair at you. You start to pull them on while he pulls out the next items. “Got all the junk food, of course.” At this, he pulls out all sorts of different bags and containers. All pink Starbursts, strawberry Trolli’s, Nerds, Blow Pops, smoothies Skittles, pink frosted cookies, pink sodas, the list goes on.

“Will we blow up the toilet? Probably. Is it worth it? Absolutely!” he shouts. He then pulls out a big blanket, unfolding it as he did the pajamas to show off the pattern. It’s cow patterned but instead of black and white, it’s pink and white.

“I’m starting to think I know what the movie is…” you say with a smirk.

He shakes his head as he throws the blanket at you. “Nuh-uh! There’s no way you would’ve guessed it already!” he denies, but he’s grinning from ear to ear. He is making it pretty obvious.

“Right,” you say sarcastically, placing your hand onto his hip.

“Next up!” he shouts before dipping both hands into a bag now. He then whips out face masks and nail polish. All pink, of course.

“How lovely,” you comment as you take them from him to look at the color of the nail polish and to see what’s in the face mask.

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! The dramatic reveal that is totally going to leave you shocked!” he declares, staring deep into your eyes with his hand in a bag. You start to smirk again as you stare right back at him, waiting for the oh so big reveal.

After several seconds of just staring at each other, building ‘suspense,’ he whips the rented DVD out. “Tada!” he screams as he drops the bag and holds the front of the movie towards you for you to read the title.

Barbie.

“Oh yeah. Totally didn’t see that coming,” you pretend to reassure, dropping back down onto the couch. He pouts at you as he starts to pull his own pajamas on.

“You could at least pretend to be surprised…” he grumbles.

You chuckle at that before clearing your throat, waiting for him to look at you before responding. You then give a dramatic gasp and slap a hand over your chest.

“Oh my fucking god. Barbie? Are you serious? I never would’ve guessed that in a million years! Ajax! This is-“ He cuts you off with a yell as he playfully tackles you. You two wrestle for a moment before he pins you down onto the couch.

“Oh shut up!” he whines. He then gives up, laying down on top of you and hiding his face into your neck. You let out an ‘oof’ at the added weight before starting to giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and carding your hands through his hair.

“I really am excited though, baby. Thank you for doing all of this. You did a good job,” you say softly, kissing the top of his head.

He preens under the praise, raising his head to look down at you. “Well, of course I did a good job. It’s me we are talking about, after all.” You roll your eyes at his ego but let it go in favor of kissing him.

After sharing a sweet kiss, he pulls away to stand up to put the movie in. “Enough mackin! We gotta get this bad boy goin!” he declares which causes you to giggle.

[normal-internet-user]

GROW UP

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: You and Raph get into an argument about your lack of emotional communication.

Warnings: shouting, crying, angst hurt to comfort.

Requested: N/A

GN Reader!

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

You took in a deep breath as you stepped into the Lair, smiling tightly as Mikey pulled you in for his usual sunshine hug.

"Hey there, 'Angelo." you said, patting him on the head, as you walked away to find Raph.

You knocked lightly on the wall next to his curtain before pulling aside the cloth to enter his room.

"Hey, Red." You said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Hey, sweetcheeks." he turned to face you fully, his brows furrowing in concern as he looked at your face, "What's wrong? You look upset."

You shook your head, smiling, "I'm fine." you said, trying to drop the subject.

Raph took your face in his hands, "No you aren't, I can tell. So talk to me, babe."

You pulled away with a groan, "I'm fine, Raph, can we just drop it?"

Raph huffed, grabbing your hand gently as you turned away from him, "No, not until I know what's bothering you!"

You closed your eyes tightly, looking away from Raph as your fathers words from earlier today echoed in your head, "Grow up! You have nothing to be sad about, there are people who have it worse, so get over yourself!"

"Raph." You growled, "Drop. It."

Raph sighed, frustrated, "Why won't you just tell me-?"

"YOU WANNA KNOW WHY?" You shouted, turning to face him with tears in your eyes, "BECAUSE I'M SCARED, RAPH! I'M SCARED THAT IF I TELL YOU WHATS WRONG, YOU'LL JUST TELL ME TO GET OVER MYSELF LIKE EVERYONE ELSE I'VE EVER OPENED UP TO! THAT-," your voice cracked and your body shook, "T-that you'll just tell me to grow up."

You sobbed, furiously trying to wipe away those stupid tears. God you hated crying, and infront of Raph? Really?

Why couldn't you just stop? Just STOP!

You were practically rubbing your eyes raw trying to stop the tears before Raph took your hands in his own.

"I would never do that to you." He said softly, "Never in a million years."

You sniffled, your face scrunching, "I-I just wish people, listened to me. My whole life I was told that children are to be seen and not heard, no one ever took my emotions seriously."

You sobbed again, burying your face in Raph's plastron, "I was j-just that overly emotional nobody, until I stopped. I stopped crying, I stopped feeling. I stopped so no one else had to. I don't cry, so my siblings can."

Raph felt his heart shattering as you spoke, he didn't know. He never knew...

"I don't know how to talk about it, Raph. I-I can't. I haven't needed to in so long, I just push it all down and it goes away. It didn't go away this t-time, wHY didn't it go away?"

Raph pulled you close as you cried, he rested his head atop yours, "It doesn't just go away, (Name). It never does. It takes a long time, sometimes you need to talk about it. I'm always here to talk about it if you need to."

"B-but, I don't want to be a burden-"

"Nuh-uh, none of that. look at me, hun." Raph held your face gently, smiling softly at you, "You will never, ever be a burden to me. Ever. Don't you even think that, got it?"

You nodded, leaning into his hands, "Can you hold me? Please?" you begged quietly, face stained with tears.

"Of course, sweetcheeks. Raph's got ya'."

Raph picked you up easily, carrying you over to his bed where he set you down gently. He sat next to you, leaning back against the headboard as he pulled you into his lap.

He then pulled a blanket over the two of you, kissing you softly on top of your head as you slowly drifted off from exhaustion.

Since you were sleeping, you weren't aware of his brothers coming to check on you, asking Raph softly if you would be fine.

Raph reassured them that you would be ok, you just needed a little help emotionally.

"Don't worry, bros, Raph's got this covered."

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

I'm on a roll huh? Don't worry I got more fics coming soon!

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

People in Reddit, (because of course they are) seen to think California is this prosperous utopia that makes so much money and people there just have it made. Except people were moving away in droves because of cost of living for a while and then because of lack of freedom after that.

Then I get greeted with "Nuh uh! They've had net positive people moving there". Sure maybe recently but during and right after covid people fled because of the tyrant state California was acting like. Not too mention the shutdowns on top of cutting off work from so many people while the Governor went out to party with his friends.

California might make a lot of money but it's because they SPEND a lot. And I can explain. California has some is the highest tax rates in the US. And add freakishly high rent and costs there and it's near impossible to live there especially in the big cities. So why are they supposedly so "prosperous". Easy. If a state was to charge you 40% in state taxes. Gas prices are 7$ and you rent is 5k or more a month "income" for the state is going to look insane.

Meanwhile if you have a state that charges no state taxes, costs 3$ in gas and rent costs 1k a month the state will seemingly be less "prosperous". Except that concept should more or less look at conditions of living. And in California the place with the best net positive living conditions for an AVERAGE resident are all red area. Or light purple leaning red. Meanwhile if you're in blue areas you've got streets covered in shit, homeless people, and rampant crime and car break-ins. Sounds SUPER "prosperous" to me. So prosperous in fact the state wanted to charge residents for 10 years after they left the state.

Why? Because no matter how much they are making they aren't making enough. If you compare their GDP against how much they keep spending it's pretty bleak. Never you mind the impropriety in their local governments. Specifically L.A. and SF. Who "misplaced" millions a year that's supposedly supposed to go to the homeless. And other supposed "welfare". Fact is the sheer amount of people who I've talked to that left because they could not afford to live there. It's been quite a few. Income does not equal prosperity. And the fact Cali has had to be bailed out a number of times shows it can't sustain itself. Though the bailouts were not all extravagant. Most ended up being subsidies if I recall correctly. (Though it's been a while since I read up on it).

People dick suck Democrat policies so hard they need to present California as this bastion of perfection. It's not. And GDP doesn't make a place better. Especially not with tax rates as high as the have them. ON TOP OF federal taxes and living costs being that stupid.

Record high of 6.43. FOR UNLEADED!

And then this bullshit.

And a dollar for gas makes a lot of difference

So if it gas wad 3.40 even, 20$ would get you 5.8 gallons. At 4.80? 4.1 gallons. That amount MAKES A DIFFERENCE especially to those not making a lot of money a year. Then Cali mandates a $20/hr min wage for fast for (except Panera bread because a high level executive made a charitable donation to his campaign) 10k people lost our are projected to lose jobs. "Well that's the greedy companies-" I'm going to stop you right there. No it's not companies fault. It's the fault of California government. Because guess what? For those people that will be making more California gets a bigger cut of your money. Oh and guess what? Because of that you're in a higher tax bracket in both your state AND federally. California is mandating you get robbed blind.

Look. No state is perfect. But to pretend California is such a great place because a lot of companies had their head offices there and state taxes are absurd? Isn't a win. And frankly it makes your look stupid. Because it's a pretty nuanced thing. And it completely flies over most of your heads. Because if they were so well of WHY would they even consider an exit tax? Why would their tax rates be so damn high? Oh right because the state is lining it's own pockets while pretending they are the richest place on earth. And all because "the weather is nice". Blow me. Several states have really nice weather. California just sets itself on fire from time to time because they dissolved their foresty departments so they can blame global warming for everything.

[senka-mesecine]

What do the boys think about Halloween? 👀

---

― I don't know, for Chris personally, something like Halloween probably harkens back to a more carefree and simple time; back while he was still in college, his family's home, the carelessness of suburbia and him being just a kid who still cared about the wonder of mundane things --- a time that seems almost entirely bygone now; which means that any and all feelings connected to said season (and really most holidays) will be complicated and introspective because it serves as a metric of comparison just how far he's come since...and how much he's irrevocably changed. There's something almost awkward about the notion. Something nostalgic. This slightly haunting idea he can't go back exactly to the way things were. The stark reminder he's aged out of Halloween, perhaps in a good way, perhaps in a bad one. Especially post-war, Taylor has grown. But, then again, that's not to say he wouldn't commemorate it all; he just probably does it differently to anyone else. Busting out a drink, a blunt and listening to music with you is good enough.

― Not that O'Neill would ever admit to this in a million years but all these asshole kids dressed up as ghouls, zombies and the actual living dead make him nervous and fidgety...well, more than he actually is by default, so really, he might spend all of Halloween ranting to you how these little cocksuckers are running around the block expecting something for nothing (free candy), feeling all entitled, and how, nuh-uh, he's not having it. No, no. He's really not. Truth is, all of his antagonism and passive aggression is a means to cover up that this shit makes him anxious to no end but he'd rather come off like a disgruntled, killjoy, whiny asshole by choice, as a tactical measure, even to you, then ever fess up to the reality that it overall gives him a bad feeling and probably takes him back to some really awful places in time, meaning that the man might just want to spend Halloween curled up in bed with you. Genuinely. His excuse is that he's too pissed off to participate or care. But you know better, so you might let it slide when he acts all tough about it the next day.

― Honestly, Bunny thinks Halloween's great and he loves it. Unabashedly so. He's that guy who's door you absolutely shouldn't knock on while trick or treating because while seems like some smiling, scrawny pretty boy at first glance (harmless, right?) he might just fill someone's basket with candy and a handful of live maggots (could just grab one and eat it in front of the horrified visitors too) or put a defunct grenade into a satchel of sweets and probably have the time of his life being impressed with himself once the kids, rightfully, end up scared it'll blow up, so, really, this holiday's a perfect excuse for him to bully and cruelly prank people, not that he needs any excuses. Might just do it to you too. In fact, it's guaranteed. He does it out of some sickening, juvenile form of love towards you. the way he sees it. He somehow seems like the type of guy who has a live human skull laying around somewhere that he acquired...god knows where...that's on the front lawn and everyone assumes it's decor. But, it ain't. Knowing Bunny then, it's really lucky that Halloween lasts only one day.

― Rhah gives me the impression that like, to him, Halloween's the perfect time to bust out the eerie stories --- and again, much like Bunny, not that he particularly needs too many excuses for this one, but really, this holiday in particular serves his mood just right as he regales anecdotes that might be real, slightly overblown in proportion or completely fabricated. Nonetheless, he tells them with such immersion and oratory zest, he can genuinely have a tingling shiver run down your spine just by talking. In equal measure, one gets the impression he's fully in his element even though he'd never fess up he likes any of well, this. In fact, he might also rant about Halloween to you. Commercial holidays this and commercial holidays that. Theft! A scam! Distracting the common man with nonsense. Vermucci does get all political and social for a brief blip. But, he's simultaneously there, next to a fireplace with you in the dark trying to titillate as well as frighten you as he tells you some of the most harrowing things you've ever heard in the hopes you'll scoot even closer to him. He actually relishes this, to be honest.

― King might think Halloween's inherently some rich people thing and by extension, white people thing --- you know, something aimed at folks who have disposable moolah to throw around on plastic randomness they won't ever need again except for one day a year --- a notion he genuinely finds funny. An opinion someone like, say, Junior might very vocally share as well, much to Bunny's annoyed chagrin. But in spite of that and his social stand on the matter, King's very much pro anything that allows him to unwind, relax, have a good time and party --- the context involved doesn't really even particularly matter, meaning that he'd happily get up to weird activities like blowing weed smoke into a pumpkin, infusing his grass with flavored spice to 'keepin' with the spirit of things', sing, dance and take up the task of handcrafting some decoration himself instead of buying, which, admittedly, comes off like the move of someone who genuinely loves the holiday for its own sake. Somehow, the whole thing might develop into a full on party with you. The pipeline between 'I don't care about that noise, man.' to him being fully into this is a very short pipeline indeed.

― Don't laugh, but Wolfe gives me the impression of someone who nonironically, in trying to, as he might so aptly put it 'keep up the spirits and the morale of the men' genuinely ordered some pumpkins from up the chain of command as needed provisions, singlehandedly carved some and set them up at least somewhere around base to remind the boys of home, only for the gesture to be ignored or considered juvenile and ridiculous by a general consensus. Which...perhaps it was. Or maybe it wasn't. Depends who you ask. The opinions range anywhere from 'Whattheshit!?' to 'A sappy effort'. Regardless, Wolfe might be good intentioned but his fish-out-of-water efforts either 'can't read the overall mood of the room properly' or he tries too hard to impress and be 'one of the gang' only to fall wholly and entirely short. In general though, he enjoys Halloween. And he might just happily celebrate with you with all the traditional markers of it involved the minute he doesn't need to put up a macho front anymore during a more civilian life. He probably ends up being unexpectedly wholesome about it.

― Elias is a non-conformist at heart; celebrate a thing or not. Like it or hate it. Be indifferent or impassioned. It doesn't matter to him --- ultimately, so long as whatever conviction people have is followed by a feelgood feeling and attitude overall --- in translation; Live and let others live. So long as they're not hurting anyone in the process, he thinks people should be entitled to their beliefs, meaning that he himself could very well be disillusioned with most of the pastimes a common civilian could have, but he's not opposed to other people being, well, plainly put, happy even though it's not exactly an enthusiasm he personally shares --- nonetheless, Elias is a good sport about it. Genuinely. The world would've been a better place, he thinks, if more people had an attitude like that. And not unlike Chris? His prefered choice of celebrating with you is just unwinding. Rotating back to the world he'd be one of those guys children are legitimately enthusiastic to trick and treat from because he's the kindest and coolest person who's door you could possibly stumble upon.

― Barnes is an adult and by extension of being an adult and a man, he deems he shouldn't give a rat's ass about it --- an opinion he undoubtedly would've firmly held even when he was an actual child and the main target demographic for Halloween, I imagine. There's just something really grim and no-nonsense about him where his stoicism usually takes precedence over everything, even, say, commonplace holidays. He doesn't mind you celebrating, putting you into a more civilian box by default. He just doesn't care about doing it himself because he finds he's got better things to do. He just doesn't understand people having a separate day in the year where they wanna be frightened in the most staged, artificial sense possible when there's so much actual fear in the world they could experience; he's downright the type of man who'd say something in the vein of 'Hope ya'll get drafted so ya'll can experience some real shit'. He's really the dark inverse of Elias on that front, except, unlike Elias, he doesn't afford people the empathy of thinking they deserve happy stuff just for its own sake.

[pollution-wizard]

currently looking for an wizard apprentice, preferably inclined towards evil wizard magic and immune or at least resistant to most strong poisons & venoms. i wrommy (wizard prommy) that you definitely will not meet your demise in this job never ever in a million years you can just say 'nuh uh' to death i double wrommy (double wizard prommy) it works every time

[quaranmine]

The Incandescence of a Dying Light (Chapter One)

It's 1988. Grian and Mumbo are roommates living in the US. Mumbo leaves on a solo camping trip at Grian's suggestion to get away from his job for a while. But when he fails to check in at the end of his trip, Grian is forced to report him as a missing person. And now the clock is ticking.

It's 1989. Grian takes a job in Shoshone National Forest as a fire lookout, prepared to spend the summer alone in the wilderness. But his primary goal isn't finding forest fires: it's finding Mumbo, who went missing in this location a year ago, alive and well. He expects to be alone. What Grian doesn't expect is having the company of the other nearby lookout, a man named Scar. Their relationship grows through their conversations held via two-way radio, as Grian finally begins to let Scar into the truth about why he's really here and mystery he's unraveling.

A Hermitcraft Firewatch AU.

Chapter One: 7,162 words

Masterpost | Chapter Two >>

Welcome to the Firewatch AU! It's okay if you've never played the game, since the plot of this story is different than in the game. If you have played the game, you'll notice some similarities, especially in the setting. If you plan to play the game, this fic will not spoil it. I just really really like fire lookouts :]

Content warnings will be added per chapter as needed. I've done a lot of research on this topic so some there will also be some notes on a reblog. This fic will be Grian and Scar centric, but it's also very much about Mumbo as well. There will also be the inclusion of art with the chapters.

May 31, 1988

Grian remembers it because it’s 7:30 PM on a Tuesday evening, and he’s sitting at his desk in front of the window trying to catch the early evening slanted sunbeams on his sketchbook. The light is golden on the page and his hand casts a shadow on his work. 

That’s when Mumbo crashes through the front door–quite literally, too. The door swings shut with a bang. It’s a heavy door prone to closing on its own.

Without looking up, Grian calls out, “Remember not to slam it! Mrs. Grant complained last week, you know.”

“Right! Right, sorry!”

“Bad commute?” Grian asks. 

He hears Mumbo drop his bag in the corner with a sigh, and the sound of him flopping down on the couch. Grian turns around to look at him sympathetically. Mumbo has dramatically put his palms over his eyes, slowly dragging them down his face.

“Ugh,” he groans. “It was the worst. Someone wrecked on 25.”

“That sucks.”

“Oh, shut up,” Mumbo says. “How long have you been sitting here? All day?”

“Nuh-uh, I had a meeting today with Mr. Perry.”

“Did that go well?”

“Yeah,” Grian says, lying through his teeth. But only just a little. 

Mumbo hops up off the couch and walks over to Grian’s desk. “Is that what you’re drawing now?” he asks. He picks up the sketchbook. 

“Yes,” Grian says sagely. “I have many ideas.”

Mumbo squints at the page. “You’ve only got a tree, Grian.”

“Hey!” Grian says, snatching his sketchbook back. “Look around! There’s plenty of trees out here! Well, maybe not on this street specifically, but give me like 20 minutes and I’ll drive you to a big forest.”

“Oof. Make it an hour. The traffic’s awful today, I told you.”

Grian and Mumbo stare at the tree drawing for a few seconds. “Is it at least a nice tree?” Grian asks. 

“You’re supposed to be drawing houses, mate,” Mumbo says, amused. “Your meeting went terribly, didn’t it?”

“I have absolutely nothing,” Grian says. “Zilch! Zip! Nada! Empty brain. I can tell you there will be at least one tree next to his house, though.”

“Imagine that,” Mumbo says. “Million dollar house on a mountainside. One tree guaranteed.”

It’s Grian’s turn to use the shut up line. “Shut up,” he says. 

There’s something ticking in Mumbo’s brain, and Grian can tell. He looks past Grian through the window with the streaming gold light, out at the mountains in the not-so-far distance. And Grian remembers it, even when he doesn’t want to.

“We should go camping,” Mumbo says. “Get out of the city for a few days. See some trees with no houses next to them. Get away from all that highway traffic.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Grian says. “This weekend? Do you want me to call and see if I can reserve a spot in the national park? Or a little more west and hit a national forest?”

Mumbo screws up his face a little at that. “Let’s go a bit further this time,” he suggests. “Do several days instead of just a weekend. We could even leave the state. Go someplace we haven’t already been a million times. Maybe even a little more remote.”

“When?” Grian asks. 

“Is next week too soon? I could just take off midweek and we could go drive somewhere. Please? Think of all those early summer wildflowers up in the mountains.”

“Dude, I can’t take off mid-week,” Grian says sharply, suddenly feeling very frustrated. “You know that. I need to be finishing these designs! You gotta give me more notice than this, Mumbo.”

“Right,” is all Mumbo says, and he looks so tragic that Grian already feels bad for snapping at him. 

“Is it that bad at work?” he asks. 

Mumbo looks away, past Grian back back out into the mountains in the distance. “I just don’t know if I can take another week,” he admits. “I need to take some time off. And hey, maybe he’ll even fire me this time for giving him only a week’s notice that I’m taking vacation time!”

“You need that job for your visa,” Grian points out softly. 

Mumbo rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll try to keep my job I guess. No trying to get fired. I’m still taking that time off though.”

“He wouldn’t fire you anyway,” Grian says. “You’re much too useful.”

That causes Mumbo to crack a little, and he starts to smile again. “Yeah, mate, that place’ll burn down without me. If I leave for a week they’ll be begging me to come back and fix everything that went wrong.”

“If anything, that’ll just ensure your job security!” Grian says. “Hey, maybe you could just go without me. I’d love to go, I really would, but I can’t lose this deal with Mr. Perry. I’m the project leader this time and he’ll likely drop the whole project if I don't so much as answer the phone on the first ring…”

“Rich people,” Mumbo says with a nod.

“Ugh, yes, rich people,” Grian says, and throws his head down on his desk for dramatic measure.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Mumbo says. He thinks for a moment. Grian lifts his head and watches the way contemplation flashes across Mumbo’s face. 

“Dude, just go by yourself,” Grian urges. “I can’t stand to watch you drive yourself insane another week. You’ve done it before, right? And why don’t you bring the bike? That way you can do all those difficult trails you’re always trying to drag me down without worrying about me wrecking it.”

“Should I?”

“Yeah,” Grian says, and he remembers this too, for as long as he lives, “I bet it’ll be fun."

»»———-　　———-««

June 16, 1988

Grian is bouncing his leg, trying to bleed off nervous energy with every shake. He’s bouncing his leg because at least his leg is hidden under the table he’s sitting at, whereas the pen he’d been tapping earlier was about to have resulted in an annoyed client and lost job. 

The table is large, and oval. He’s in some weird conference room-home office place in Mr. Perry’s gigantic house, discussing the floor plan for yet another gigantic house Mr. Perry wants to build. Mr. Perry, of course, hates half of the floor plan Grian has proposed. 

Grian hasn’t quite figured out why Mr. Perry needs two gigantic houses, but it really isn’t his business considering he’s being paid. And he’s being paid very well for this. It’s probably the best job he’s landed since he started and he’s grateful his boss let him take this client, annoying as he is. This newest house would be within walking distance of a ski lift though, and this house isn’t, so Grian can at least see the value there.

He bounces his leg. He tries to count how many times he bounces it in a minute, only to find that he can’t really keep up with the passage of time, number of bounces, and the bouncing itself all at the same time. He loses track instantly. But if he can just get through this meeting, then he can make an excuse to go home. Only 4,000 leg bounces until he’s passed enough time to leave. He’ll be out of this stuffy room like a bullet. 

He’s thinking so hard about leaving this meeting and going home that he forgets that he has to actually be in the meeting first. 

“Excuse me?” Mr. Perry says sharply. “Did you hear any of what I just said to you?”

“Hm?” Grian says back, before suddenly being slammed back into reality. “Oh, apologies sir. Can you repeat that, please? I must have been a little distracted.” He gives a wan smile. 

Mr. Perry gives him a long look. “I was saying that I don’t think I like the placement of this room.” He jabs a finger at the blueprints. “I mean, who needs a parlor these days, let alone a second parlor? I want to change it.”

Grian squints at the room in question. “I think we could open it up to the kitchen and living room,” he offers. “Open concept and all that. There’s a lovely view to be had that’s being blocked by the walls right now.”

“Let’s make it a pool room,” Mr. Perry says. 

“Uh, a pool room sir? On the second floor?”

“Not an entire pool, that’s nonsense,” he says. “Just a large indoor hot tub. It’ll be cold out when I’m visiting this house.”

“I…I think I can do something like that, sir,” Grian responds. “We’ll just ensure that the engineers clear it for the amount of water weight it would put on the floor and add extra support if needed.”

“Can there be some windows or screens in the room?”

“You mean on the inside wall?”

“Yeah. So I could see the hot tub from the living room if I wanted.”

“Um, sure. We can do that.”

He sneaks a glance at his watch. Only 35 minutes to go now. 

He just…doesn’t want to think about it. He just needs to leave. He’ll get home, make the phone call, and it will be okay and he’ll feel silly. But every second he’s stuck in this godforsaken massive house is just another second he has to spend knowing that he’s delaying something very, very important. 

If he thinks about it, he’s going to spiral, so instead he keeps trying to channel every bit of the nervous energy into his right foot. 

“Grian,” Mr. Perry says, and Grian snaps his head back up from the blueprints, a little surprised that the man has used his first name. 

“Yes?”

“Would you like to leave early?” Mr. Perry asks. “Since you clearly have somewhere else you want to be.”

Grian freezes. “My apologies sir, I’m not trying to make you feel rushed in this process. It’s very important to me that you feel like everything in your future home is exactly how you want it, no matter how many tries it takes for us to get to the perfect result.”

“I don’t appreciate it when my employees lie to me, you know,” Mr. Perry says. “Save the corporate spiel for later. You’re making me exhausted just looking at you. I think if you bounce that leg any faster it’ll fly off.”

“Oh,” Grian says with a hint of a nervous chuckle. “Suppose that’s true.”

“You can go home now,” Mr. Perry says. “You’re not paying attention anyway. Just get me some new ideas for that hot tub room and we’ll reconvene on Monday.”

“Yes sir, thank you so much,” Grian blurts, and grabs his papers off the desk, and tries to walk out of the door at a normal speed instead of sprinting.

»»———-　　———-««

He arrives home a little after 3:30 pm, tossing his bag and papers haphazardly on the couch as soon as he runs in. The door accidentally slams again, but he doesn’t really care what Mrs. Grant thinks today. His goal is the phone on the table by the kitchen; even all the way across the room he can see the message light blinking on the answering machine next to it. 

He pulls the phone off its rack and presses to listen to the message on the tape. It plays, and…he sets the receiver back down. 

It’s just his landlord, calling to say that he won’t be around to fix the door for another few days. 

Grian paces once around the living room, then twice. 

He pauses in front of the window. It’s clear and sunny out, with very little smog on the horizon. The mountains are in clear view. 

Grian returns to the phone, and dials 411. Directory assistance. He’s not quite sure the number he needs to call for this, and his local phone books are of no use for out of state numbers. An operator picks up. 

“Hello? Yes, I’d like to place a call to the Shoshone National Forest Ranger Station. Location? Uh, I think it’s in Cody, Wyoming. Yes, thank you.”

A minute or two later with the correct number for the office scribbled on a notepad, Grian is patched through. A young woman answers the phone. 

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” she asks. 

“Erm, hi,” Grian says. “I’m calling because I’m worried about my friend. He was in the National Forest and he’s missed his check-in.”

“How long has it been since he missed his check-in window?”

“Several hours at least,” Grian answers. “He told me it might be late, or really really early, so I was expecting a call last night or this morning. But I didn’t receive one. I left for work early, thought maybe he’d taken a bit more time than he told me, but it just nagged at me. It was supposed to be hours ago. When I came home just now there’s no message on the answering machine.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, darling,” the ranger says. “Can you please give me some information about him? Full name, age, appearance, vehicle, license plate if you know it, and the trails or locations he told you he would be hiking in? We can pass that information on and begin a search.”

A knot in Grian’s throat forms at the word search. “Of course,” he replies. 

He rattles off the information as she asks for it, from Mumbo’s somewhat rickety AWD sedan that he was always convinced he could drag down any road he wanted, to his dark hair and mustache. He gives her Mumbo’s full real name, and feels a little silly when he includes the nickname right along with it, but he figures Mumbo might appreciate it. He tells her the trails Mumbo had mentioned doing, and how many days he planned to spend hiking. 

“He brought his mountain bike too,” he says. “I don’t know if he took it with him on any overnight hikes but he had a setup for that, where he could strap his pack to the bike.”

“Thank you,” the ranger says. “Being on a bike could extend the range he could be in, but it could also limit which trails he could be on due to terrain. Here, I’m going to patch you into the local Sheriff’s office to make a report too, is that okay? I’ll call some of the field offices and get some rangers on this. We’ll start by checking for his car at the trailheads.”

“Thank you,” Grian says.

He calls the Sheriff’s office and makes a report. He tells them much of the same information he told the ranger, and the second time repeating it only makes it seem more macabre. He answers all the questions to the best of his ability. Yes, Mumbo was an experienced hiker. No, he was not having a personal crisis, just wanted a few days off work to unwind. 

And then he sits and waits. The whole process had only taken a little over an hour. 

He paces some more for a while. He goes to the kitchen to get some water, drinks that, and finds it only killed a couple minutes, so he goes and paces some more. He stares out the window for a while again. Then, he organizes some of the papers he hastily threw down when he got home, because it’s still probably not a good idea to risk losing or bending any of Mr. Perry’s documents. 

He gets another call around 8 pm. 

“We found his car,” the ranger says. “It's still at the trailhead.”

“So he never made it back to his car last night.” So he’s not just a spoon who forgot to find a payphone and give his friend a call. 

“I’m afraid not.”

“So…so what now?” Grian asks. 

“We’ll start sending some rangers and volunteers down the trail to look for him, in case he’s hung up somewhere and needs a little help. His bike wasn’t in his vehicle, so he must have had that with him.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Please keep me updated.”

That night, Grian doesn’t sleep, and the next morning Grian doesn’t go into work. He’s already driving northwest. 

»»———-　　———-««

May 1989

11 Months Later

He’s grateful when he finally rolls up to the trailhead after being jerked around on the rocky, uneven road for the last 19 miles. He’s the only one in the small lot, which is less of a parking area and more of a clearing at the terminal point of the road. 

He lays his head back on the headrest for a moment just to rest, eyes closed, and sighs. The sun through the windshield is warm on his forehead, but the day outside is pleasantly cool with the bite of winter still on the wind. There’ll still be snow on the mountaintops for a while yet. 

It’s noon. He spent the night in Cody, in an old motel but different room and left in the morning with his whole life packed in a bag. He has a long hike ahead of him this afternoon, and he won’t get there tonight. But he might as well start. 

Grian gets out of the car and inspects it. It’s a 1978 Chevy Blazer he picked up two weeks ago when he realized he was going to need a 4x4 to even make it to the trailhead and traded in his old sedan. Its red and white paint is covered completely in a coat of dust and topped off with several mud splashes from snow meltwater on the road.

Fortunately, nothing rattled off the vehicle during its inaugural off-road journey, so Grian is just left to hope it still has air in its tires the next time he hikes back out. And that might not be for a while, so he’s stocked it with a spare and patch kit. He has an elementary knowledge of how to fix a tire but he figures the motivation of being stranded 19 miles back on this empty road will breed enough desperate ingenuity to fix any problems he encounters. 

Grian grabs his pack from the backseat, and starts down the trail. 

Grian loses himself for a while during the hike. It’s easy to do that–to just walk and turn your brain off completely. One foot in front of the other over and over. The motions over and over tune the rest of Grian’s brain into a nice numbness. He listens to his boots crunch gravel and dry leaves. He looks at how the sun dapples the trail. 

He hikes onward.

The forest is loud in a way the city isn’t. It’s not the type of loudness that announces itself, but the longer Grian hikes onward and alone the more its presence makes itself known. It’s like Grian’s brain is getting rid of the noise that’s filled it for so long and allowing him to really listen to the sounds of life. 

The wind whistles through the trees, shaking the pine needles. It doesn’t blow on Grian; the taller trees around him shield him from the gusts. He hears the light gurgle of a creek well before he comes down a hill to cross it, and when he approaches it a frog leaps away from the bank. 

At one point, Grian’s dragged out of his silent contemplation by the commotion of rattling leaves in the undergrowth next to him. It spikes his heart rate and he freezes in place, until a medium sized brown spotted bird explodes out of a bush at the side of the trail and flies away, low to the ground. 

He smiles a little to himself. Just a bird, startled by a person. He is trespassing, in a way, it seems, to intrude his presence upon such a wild area. This is the bird’s home, not his. He’s just being offered a place in it to protect it. 

He hikes onward as the sun dips lower in the sky.

»»———-　　———-««

June 17, 1988

Grian arrives at the Forest Service office in Cody, Wyoming at half past ten in the morning. The sky is blazing blue and cloudless, but there’s haze on the horizon. 

He stumbles into the office, brushes a piece of greasy hair that’s fallen on his forehead back up, and tells a slightly-startled looking lady at the front desk: “I’m here to join a volunteer search. My friend’s missing.”

She looks him up and down with a critical, yet sympathetic eye. “What’s your name, sir?” she asks, in a way that suggests she might already know. 

“Grian.”

“Grian, where did you drive in from?”

Grian stares at her. “Denver. Why?”

“Denver’s eight hours away,” she says. “Isn’t it?”

“I don’t see why that’s relevant.”

She sighs, and gives him a look. A pitying one that he hates. “Darling, how much sleep did ya get? It’s not even noon yet.”

Grian huffs. “I don’t know. An hour or two. I’m fine!” He looks at her pleadingly. “Please, just let me know where I can go to help out.”

She just shakes her head, and picks up the phone on her desk. Grian watches her dial it, and hopes for a second she’s calling another ranger to come escort him or something, but that hope is crushed the moment she speaks again.

“Hello?” she asks on the line, and waits while the other person answers. “Yes, I was wondering if you had a room available. You do? Good. I’m going to send someone over your way. Yeah, I’m doing good, how are you? Glad to hear it. Thanks, darling. Yeah, he’ll be coming in a bit.”

She hangs up and scribbles something on a notebook, before tearing out the page and handing it to Grian. It’s got a short list of directions. Down the road two miles, turn right on the second road after the bridge.

“It’s a nice little motel not too far from here,” she says. “They’ll give you a room and you can get some rest.” 

Grian shoves the paper back across the desk at her. “No. Tell me what I can do to join the search for my friend, please.”

She smiles saccharine-sweet and hands the paper back to him again. “Take it. I don’t want to see you back here for at least another few hours. In fact, I won’t give you any information unless you come back in a few hours. Get some sleep, you stayed up all night and just drove eight hours straight. You’ll be much better equipped to help out if you aren’t too tired to hike.”

Grian feels frustration well up in his chest, consuming the ball of anxiety in his chest. It threatens to break him too, so he looks away from the ranger and at the floor instead, though. Finally he speaks again. “My friend,” he whispers. “Will he be okay?”

The woman answers, “All our rangers are trained in search and rescue. They’re professionals. This is what they do, Grian, and they’re good at it. They’ll do everything in their power to find him.”

Grian nods tightly. 

“Now get some sleep, darling.”

»»———-　　———-««

May 1989

It’s night when Grian arrives at the tower, on his second day of hiking. He’s been backpacking many times before, but the rough terrain on this hike was still a surprise. It’s difficult to scale rocky hills with a bulky pack, and his shoulders are sore and his walking is slower now–so it’s night by the time Grian arrives at the place that’s going to be his home through October. 

It’s a wooden tower built on a hill. A staircase winds itself around, leading to the top where there’s a single room surrounded by boarded up windows. Nearby on the ground is an outhouse, small storage shed, a generator, a water tap, and nothing else. 

Well, at least he’ll have electricity. He’ll have water too, but it seems like he’ll have to haul it. He knows from his lookout orientation a few days ago that there’s a water tank with rainwater catchment and filters, but there’s no way to pump it 30 feet to the top of the tower.  

Grian turns on the generator, and heads up the steps with the single-minded determination of an exhausted man who knows there’s a bed waiting for him. When he arrives at the top he throws on the lights, tosses his pack down, and surveys the place. 

He was expecting it to be pretty dusty and ill-maintained, but it seems pretty clean. There’s bedding folded up neatly on the mattress–Grian had been expecting to just use his sleeping bag. It looks like someone had been sent to the tower recently to clean and stock it in preparation for his arrival, which he appreciates. 

He’s not really sure the level of effort it takes to maintain this place out here in the wilderness, and his mind goes down a brief rabbit hole. How was all this wood hauled out here? What about the nails, the rivets, the glass, the tanks? Was it hauled up on the same trail he just spent a day and half walking down? They must have used horses to carry materials but someone still had to assemble all this. He has a lot of respect for that. 

Grian is just starting to lay out the bedding when something over on the table begins to crackle. He walks over to inspect it. It’s a small black handheld radio sitting on a charging stand. He was told he’d have one of these. 

It’s not set on the frequency he was told to keep it at, but before he's able to tune it to the correct one, it crackles to life anyway.

“Two Forks, Two Forks come in! This is KSNF, broadcasting to you live from Thorofare. Your host on this fine spring evening is-”

Grian picks up the radio. “Hello?”

“-none other than Scar.” 

Grian sighs. Of course, this is a two-way radio. He can’t respond until the other person on the line has stopped talking. He waits as the so-called Scar keeps going. It occurs to him that he might be trapped out here all summer with this guy.

“He’s brilliant, he’s handsome, and he’s calling you dear listeners, hoping to hear your thoughts. What ails you tonight? What are your hopes, dreams, loves, losses? Or perhaps, what is your name, Two Forks?”

Grian, sensing the pause, jumps in. “Um, hi,” he says. “This is Grian. The new lookout at Two Forks. And you must be…Scar, I presume?”

“Grian!” the radio chatters. “What an interesting name. Yes, I’m Scar. I’ll be your supervisor this summer, ‘cause I’m so good at this. I’m also practically your next door neighbor.”

Grian looks out the window, but it’s dark and the windows just reflect himself. He looks away. “Uh, yeah. How did you even know when I got here? Where are you?”

“I saw your lights flick on,” Scar replies. “Been keeping an eye out for when you’d arrive. Go outside, you’ll see my lookout to the north.”

Grian steps outside, feeling the chill in his bones again. Once he stopped hiking and rested for a few minutes, the warmth from the movement wore off and he’s reminded again how cold spring nights in the mountains are. Sure enough, out in the distance, snuggled amongst the dark peaks, is a tiny orange light. 

“Oh,” he says. “There you are. I see your light too.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Scar says. “We’re the only lights out here tonight. Nothing else for miles around. Not even a campfire–well, of course not, ‘cause those are banned right now. Please report any of those you see.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Grian says. “That is the job, is it not?”

“Oh, we've got a smart one,” Scar replies, and it’s a sentence that would probably sound acerbic in anyone else’s mouth, but Grian detects no sharpness in the words. Just friendliness. 

There’s an awkward few moments on the radio, before Grian speaks again. “Okay, erm, I’m gonna call it a night, then. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight!” Scar calls, and then, “Wait, wait, don’t go yet. Your radio, um, write down the frequency band we’re on right now. Keep that.”

“Um, okay,” Grian says. “It’s different from the one I was told in orientation.”

“Yeah, we’ll use that one too. That’s the one you need to report on. This one’s just for us. You don’t want the whole Forest Service to hear us chatting all the time, do you?”

Great. This guy wants to chat with Grian.

“I guess not,” he says finally, not untruthfully. He doesn’t really want anyone to overhear him talking, because he doesn’t really feel like talking to anyone in the first place. Half the point of taking this job was the distinct lack of human contact in every possible aspect, after all. 

“Good! Anyway, talk to you tomorrow, um….Grian. Your name was Grian.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the mosquitoes bite, Grian!”

He flicks the switch on the radio to the off position before Scar can say anything else, and runs a hand tiredly through his hair. This might be a long summer, and he cannot allow this guy to distract him from the other half of the reason he took this job:

He’s here to save Mumbo.

»»———-　　———-««

“Two Forks! Two Forks come in!”

Grian wakes up to the tinny sound of his radio across the room, and streaming golden sunlight over his face. But mostly the radio. 

“Oh wonderful lookout of the tower over yonder, wake up! It’s a beautiful afternoon today, the sun is shining, and I can let you sleep no longer! Alas, our duty calls. Two Forks, answer your radio.”

Grian rolls over and puts a pillow on his head. Scar continues. 

“Perhaps this is like a fairytale,” Scar muses. “Are you sleeping beauty, locked away in your tower, desperately waiting for true love’s kiss? Well, I can hardly speak for your true love, so you’ll have to settle and wake for me instead. Do you like Disney, Two Forks? What’s your favorite movie?”

Grian kicks his blanket onto the floor and slides unceremoniously out of bed. He sways for a moment. His legs aren’t really sure they’re ready to support him today, not after all the mountain climbing he did the other day. Then he strides resolutely to the other side of the room, picks up the radio, and turns the switch off. 

Ah, peace. 

Grian wanders over and sits on the bed for another few minutes, letting his mind spin out and gain traction again. He takes his glasses out of their case beside the bed and puts them on. The sun is bright and high in the sky, so it’s not early. It casts the room in a nice light, and Grian takes his first opportunity to look over his new home. It’s painted an old and slightly chipped white, with little posters and photos pinned to open spaces on the walls. The room is mostly filled by its spacious windows. They frame every side of every wall, almost as if Grian is living in a glass house. 

The view is, of course, spectacular. 

The mountains are both jagged in some places and rounded in others. He can see hills upon hills for miles, wrinkling out into the horizon like a piece of crumpled paper. There’s pockets of meadow and open woodland that contrast with thicker pine forests, creating a patchwork. The hillsides are painted in different greens–an aspen grove there, fir here, golden spring grass, or the bright spring flowers he can see coloring patches of the meadow. The sky is a blazing blue, and there is no haze on the horizon.

It would be spectacular, wouldn’t it? Something so beautiful would have to be so cruel. Grian is already familiar with these views in the way of someone scorned. He’s been here before, and this time he isn’t leaving without dragging the secrets from the darkest valleys. 

Grian stands up again, a little more clear headed, and heads to the stove. It’s propane powered, and he’s grateful it exists at all. He takes out a small metal pot and, upon finding it dusty, casts it aside and pulls his own camp pot from his pack. He’ll wash things later. He pours some water in it, sets it to boil, and tries to figure out where he’s set his tea. 

With a mug of tea in hand–tragically no milk and a supply of sugar he’s decided to use very, very sparingly–and the radio in his other hand, Grian steps out onto the wraparound walkway at the top of his tower. It makes for a nice deck. 

Lazily, he flips the radio back on. “This is Two Forks,” he says smoothly. “I’m awake now, what do you need?”

“G-man!” Scar nearly shouts on the other end. “It’s great to hear your voice this afternoon.”

“Ugh, afternoon,” Grian groans. He checks his watch. “It’s what, 12:30? Lunchtime? Already?”

“You’ll be okay,” Scar says. “You’re not really officially on duty until tomorrow anyway. I always like to check on the new lookouts on the first day anyway, though. You doing good?”

“Fine.”

There’s a pause, like Scar was clearly waiting for more than that. Grian is giving him nothing. After a moment he gets the memo and proceeds. 

“Good to know, good to know. So, G-man,” he starts. “You’re a lookout now. That means your only job, from now until October, is to keep an eye on this forest for any fires. If you see a fire, report it to me, or to the rangers on the official channel. I’m talking campfires, fireworks, lightning strikes, everything. You got that?”

“I believe I can handle it,” Grian says drily. “I’m pretty good at looking out windows.”

“Do you see the round thing on a table in the center of the room?” Scar asks. Grian does not, because Grian is outside on his deck, but he’s seen it before already and doesn’t feel like walking back inside to play along.. “That’s your Osborne Fire-Finder. I assume they taught you how to use that?”

“Yeah. Always keep it calibrated, locate the fire in the rotating sight, and use the tool’s measurements to determine its location and precise angle.”

“Wow, you’re going to put me out of a job!” Scar says, and somehow Grian just knows he’s genuinely beaming on the other end of the line. 

“I can’t be in two lookouts at once, now can I?” Grian says, words sharp. It doesn’t phase Scar.

He continues. “The only other real thing is that you need to report daily first thing in the morning with the weather conditions at your tower. This helps us keep track of what the fire danger is on any given day or week, so I expect you to take that seriously. Additionally, you’ll be expected to keep logs of conditions in your area. Anything else, well, I’ll just help you with it if it comes up!”

“Cool.”

“Any questions, G-man?” Scar asks. 

“Um, yeah,” Grian says. “Just one. Have you been calling me ‘G-man’?”

“Yep!”

“Alright, follow up question. Can you stop?”

“Nope!” Scar says brightly. “Every lookout needs a nickname, it’s only fun. I suppose if you had a nickname you’d rather be called though, I can consider it.”

“Uh, no,” Grian says. “I don’t have another nickname for you to use.”

“Aw, too bad. I guess it’ll just stay G-man, then.”

Grian is nearly overcome for a moment, and, despite the objectively peaceful surroundings, desires to tear his hair out. He does not. Instead he replies, in his most carefully snarky tone, “Fine. Is Scar your nickname, then? What’s your real name?”

“Grian!” Scar exclaims, in mock offense. “I’ll have you know that this is my legal name, thank you very much.”

“I have so many reasons to doubt that.”

“I would never lie to you, G-man.”

Grian rolls his eyes at that, but he can’t stop the corner of his mouth from turning up. He takes a sip of his tea. It’s nice in his hands, warm, and the smell alone is making him feel more at home. There’s silence on the radio for a long time, and Grian almost assumes that Scar has gone. He’s fine with that being the end of their discussion for the day. 

Scar isn’t gone, though, and after a while the radio crackles again. “Say, G-man,” he starts. “Now that you’ve asked me your questions, mind if I ask one of my own? A little equivalent exchange, you know.”

“Go ahead.” Grian sips his drink. 

“Where are you from?”

“Denver.” It’s not untrue. 

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude,” Scar says tentatively, “but…where are you from before that?”

Grian sighs. “England.”

“I knew it!” Scar cries. “Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to shout, there, my bad! It’s just interesting to me, that’s all! You’ve got such a lovely accent.”

“I guess,” Grian says. “You never met a British person before?”

“Oh, sure,” Scar says. “I’ve met several tourists from the UK. But between you and me, most people flyin’ across the ocean for a vacation tend to just stop at Yellowstone or Grand Teton instead of here. And the ones that do don’t stray too deep into the Forest.”

“Yeah, well, s’bit far back here. Took me two days to hike in and then I slept until noon afterwards.”

“Yeah, that hike tends to beat people up,” Scar says. “So. What on earth brings someone from England to Colorado to Wyoming?”

“Maybe I just like the mountains.”

“You don’t have mountains in England?” Scar gasps in horror. “Oh my goodness, that’s a tragedy. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“No, it’s like, well–we do have mountains in England. It’s just, well, they aren’t exactly like this are they? It’s a different sort of landscape. And besides, the place I grew up in just had hills.”

“Oh,” Scar said. “You know, I’ve never been to England. Never really left the western half of this country, actually. Is it pretty there?”

Grian thinks back, to cobblestone streets in town and misty mornings. He thinks of the way everything was just drenched in vibrant green in the summers. He thinks of old churches with ivy on the walls and fields of grass hemmed in by stone fences. 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s pretty there.”

“Man,” Scar says. “I’ll have to go one of these days. I am wondering, though–it’s not, uh, very common to meet, um, someone from another country working this job. Since the Forest Service is a federal agency, you know.”

Grian scoffs. “Isn’t this line of question a little forward for a first introduction?” he asks. “Whatever. It’s not like they didn’t poke into my background enough during the hiring process. I have dual citizenship–free, clear, whatever you wanna call it, to work for the US government.”

“That’s so cool,” Scar says. “So does that mean you like, came here and applied for citizenship and got it or–or were you like born here, and then moved to England. Or, even, you got it through marriage? Are you married? Like how does this work?”

“I’m not going to tell you all the details of my life.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Scar says. 

“It’s fine.”

“Hm,” Scar says. “You know, it’s interesting that I met you, almost like a coincidence, right? I remember hearing about another British guy in the park last summer–a tragedy, I tell you. I heard the rangers still haven’t–”

Grian’s blood instantly runs cold at the mention, and the warm mug in his hands isn’t doing enough to pull the heat back into his body. For a moment he wants to dash the mug onto the ground dozens of feet below, and cut his hands on the ceramic when he goes to pick up the shattered remains–leave no trace–on the forest floor, dripping blood onto the leaves.

He doesn’t do that. Instead, he flicks the radio off with shaking hands, cutting Scar off mid-sentence, and stalks back into the cabin.

»»———-　　———-««

Grian’s sitting on a rock next to a lake. The sun is slanted now, casting golden orange rays across the water. The air is crisp and, although Grian hasn’t touched it, he knows the water is cold. It’s snowmelt-fed, afterall. 

He’d turned on his radio again an hour or two after he turned it off earlier, once he’d recovered enough to have a normal conversation. Scar had been worried, but he’d accepted Grian’s excuse that he’d left some water boiling on the stove and needed to attend to it immediately. He hadn’t known Grian long enough to see through his excuses yet, unlike Grian’s old supervisor. 

Scar had been quiet the rest of the afternoon, though, as soon as Grian told him that he was going out to explore. Grian appreciates the peace. 

He pulls a map out of his bag to study it. It’s not the map he was given of his lookout area when he started. No, this one is worn on the edges from countless foldings and unfoldings. It’s not so much a map as it is several maps–it’s several detailed topo maps taped together into a square. 

In one map, the Two Forks lookout is circled in red marker. Grian did that a few weeks ago, when he’d learned which lookout he was assigned to. It’s a beacon on the page, his new base of operations for the next few months. And it couldn’t be in a better location. 

The rest of the map is marked-up too. There’s highlighter along some trails, penciled in areas of interest, and shaded areas. They’re search areas. It’s not the first time Grian has been here. 

He examines the maps, cross referencing his with the topo map he was given as a lookout. The Two Forks domain covers much of the locations that Mumbo’s search did last year, but more. There's still a lot of blank space on the maps, especially in areas that were inaccessible by trail. Just because it was off-trail doesn’t mean Mumbo never went there for some reason. 

Grian takes a pencil out of his bag and begins to mark up the map once again. It’s something he’s done before, and there’s spots on the map where his eraser has rubbed off part of the ink. He pours over the contours, thinking, this valley has shelter from the wind, or there’s a source of water here.

When he’s finished he stares at the page for a long moment, and then back out at the lake in front of him. The shadows are even longer now. On the other side of the lake, the ground is cast in shadow already, with the sun disappearing early behind a mountain. 

Did Mumbo enjoy these views, too? Was he here?

Grian would ask him when he found him.

Masterpost | Chapter Two >>

[blackandwhitecircus]

Rant i just sent to my friend:

I am so fucking insane about Riza FullmetalAlchemist like we been knew I am not normal about that woman but also I am watching the show with my dad rn and we are past the first hurtful Flashback episode, nearing the second and then the one my tattoo is from and I am !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! about Riza Hawkeye I am going to kill myself over riza hawkeye I am so insane over her like ?!?!?!

Like she's this kid this tiny kid and her father is an accomplished alchemist and he takes on an apprentice who's a few years older than her and kind of cute also they're both from messed up home situations

And then he leaves and her father gets sick but he finishes his research finally and it is so dangerous and it can kill millions so he TATTOOS IT ON HER BACK and he gives the power to pass it on to this SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL who is all alone in the world

And then the boy comes back and he has just joined the military and he is so idealistic about it he genuinely believes he's doing good and SHE IS SEVENTEEN AND ALL ALONE IN THE WORLD so she GIVES HIM HER FATHER'S RESEARCH and then he gets ordered to do a Genocide and he does it. Roy Mustang burns god knows how many people to death with the power SHE GAVE HIM. And even worse she believed him and now she's a sniper and a killer too and he will never forgive himself for this he will never forget that his idealism is what destroyed her too

So she asks him to destroy her tattoo to literally burn it off her back and he does and she promises to follow him to Hell and back if it means he will make the world a better place and he will make a system that will hold the two of them accountable and he makes her promise to shoot him should he ever deviate from that

AND THAT ALL HAPPENS TEN YEARS BEFORE THE SHOW EVEN STARTS

FOR TEN YEARS SHE LIVES IN THE CONVICTION THAT IF ROY DIES SHE WILL KILL HERSELF AND NEVER LET HER BODY BE FOUND BECAUSE HER

FATHER

BRANDED HER WITH ALCHEMICAL RESEARCH THAT HAS ALREADY KILLED GOD KNOWS HOW MANY PEOPLE

AND THAT'S NOT EVEN GETTING INTO THE THEMES OF FATHERHOOD THAT GO THROUGH THE ENTIRE SHOW OR THE

TWO OTHER CHILDHOOD

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS RELATIONSHIP THEIRS IS MIRRORD WITH OR THE ONE EPISODE WHERE SHE

LOADS SIX BULLETS INTO A REVOLVER

AND ONLY SHOOTS FIVE

CAUSE SHE THINKS ROY IS DEAD

40 EPISODES BEFORE HER SUICIDALITY EVER BECOMES RELEVANT AGAIN

riza hawkeye.

[3 hours later]

Ok I fell asleep but I am not done with this actually cause Roy?!?! has this whole philosophy of "If i protect the people I love and they protectect the people they love we will have a nice and compassionate society" and it is very clear to EVERYONE that at the top of the list for "people roy Mustang loves and wants to protect" is riza to the point where she gets taken hostage/almost killed over it TWICE but she herself does not see her life worthy of protection because of the things ROY DID

So when he almost dies she almost dies cause she's so distressed and he's mad at her about it and and that point the soft first time viewers think "oh she really likes her commanding officer" while I am already actively loosing it cause I know the next thing she was gonna do was either use her final bullet on herself or sacrifice herself to make sure alphonsus survives. You know. The little blonde kid who lost everything to his and his older brothers idealism and wish to bring their dead parent back. Complete coincidence in how the main characters all parallel each other.

Anyway like 40 episodes later roy is now actively loosing and she goes nuh uh and PUTS A GUN TO HIS HEAD cause he has abandoned his compassionate ideals in that moment and he goes "the fuck u gonna do after shooting me" and she goes "kill myself, cause the flame alchemy" and he IS SO SHOOK BY THAT that he immediately goes

"I can't afford to loose you."

?!?!?!?!

And calms down and realizes that he has hurt her AGAIN which is like the thing he has felt immense guilt about (next to the genocide) for ten years and they have the tenderest liddle moment during which in the manga

HE TAKES HIS GLOVES OFF TO TOUCH HER HAND

and then like 10 minutes later the villains are like "hey Mustang u like this woman right" and almost kill her and that's when my tattoo happens which I cannot stress enough is like a split second and the closest they ever get to wach other like

ALL THIS

Just happens strewn over 64 episodes while the elric brothers do their heroes quest thing. First time viewers are not even equipped to get the weight of any of it and in all that time they NEVER EVEN CALL EACH OTHER BY THEIR NAMES

[maoisarap]

fellow cringy self shipper here, pls tell me about Mao

Hi fellow!! :D

I shall, thank you for giving me this opportunity to speak of Mao actually too!

Okay, so— I wasn't sure if you meant what he's exactly like in canon or how I see him as, so I'm mixing both in! (I think it's mostly canon? I just wasn't sure what you meant... oops). And also rambles because... uh ye. I'm dumb sorry.

This boy. This boy right here:

— He's such a hardworking guy to the point that he exhausts himself to falling unconscious sometimes, and I really wish he learned to take breaks every now and then — actually more than every now and then, my guy needs a fifty years worth of a holiday with what he does! (He never learns his lesson when it comes to working... sigh.)

— Nicest and purest guy you can meet! He's so kind to quite a lot of others around him, even those who don't deserve it (*ahem* staring at a few certain people that I shall not mention publicly...) he's the definition of an angel, honestly. Although some say otherwise because oftentimes, he can be either blunt or straightforward with saying some stuff.

— Mao can breakdance and I hecking love it. It's so cool. HE is so cool! Nobody else can do it like him. They can try, go ahead, but nobody truly can get on his level. I love watching him do it, to be honest.

— Also, I swear to whoever that he is autistic or something with the way he is about work and a few of his hobbies (especially manga. He collects so much manga and hyperfixates... I wanna steal some from him. Brb, gonna do so-) plus with the way he acts too.

— He's a manga lover, basketball player/leader, student council president, a part of a few circles, and of course a Trickstar member... so much yet so loveable...

Ahh, I just love him so much...! He's just so pretty and definitely huggable. He's the best to exist, and... okay, my mind has fried itself because I can't come up with enough words about how much I love him.

Wait, no! Can we talk about his voice? He's got such a pretty voice. It is so comforting and warm and sweet and beautiful. People say that his voice is "plain" but like?? I don't know how?? Most of the other idols voice I can't stand to be fair... honestly, the number of times I've fallen asleep to his version of Walk With Your Smile because his voice is THAT calming when he makes it to be!

Speaking of prettiness, he himself is a very pretty boy with the way he looks! (I've seen someone call him ugly, and it honestly made me upset because - look at stuff he's in - and say that to me again? You call that face ugly? Nuh-uh.)

Mao Isara is very much an underrated guy, and I wish people loved him more (and I mean that by just for HIMSELF and not because he's friends with somebody he knew from his childhood. There's so much more to Mao than what others think.) But at the same time, I kind of like that he's underrated because it makes my love for him feel more personal than it already is? It gives me a free pass to send him further endless love than I already do~!

I just really love him... that is all. He's my guy, he makes me happy and- ye. <3

Please let me know if you want to know more facts about Mao, whether it is canon or my own headcanons for him (or selfishly, Maoru... Imeanwhat-)! I have and know plenty! I'm making this shorter than I wanted because I'd hate to be annoying, and I feel like we'd be here for a million years anyway.

He's my squishy bubba boy <3

My Sweet Singer <3

A boy who deserves all the positivity in the world because unlike most, at least he isn't a creep.

Anyways yeah, I'm definitely hushing up now-

[mysticalsoot]

i do NOT like the fact that I went to send lilly a post here on Tumblr and WILBUR'S Tumblr was in my recommendations

nuh uh we are not doing that

no way, never in a million years

id rather eat CAULIFLOWER than do that

[bassguitarinablackt-shirt]

woah the ask you just sent me

you should finish it

nope. nuh uh. NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS WILL I BE FINISHING THAT. I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO NOT HAVE THE BLOOD OF MY FINAL SHRED OF DIGNITY ON MY HANDS.

[crissiebaby]

The Padded Palace Act IV: Chapter 15

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, crossdressing, inappropriate language, humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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

“Someone had better start talking…right now…”

Clutching the hip of Latasha’s sleeve as she trailed behind her, Skye had never felt so nervous to enter the Padded Palace’s nursery as she did when returning from CrissCon. A million different thoughts zoomed past the forefront of her mind with the vast majority pertaining to Connor’s current state of dress. Dawning the powder blue nightie that Latasha gifted her for Christmas a few years ago, it was almost impossible to recognize her caregiver beneath the silken outfit and heavy layer of makeup. None of it felt real.

“L-Latasha, let me-OOF!” said Connor, attempting to climb to his feet only for the pillowy mattress to tug him back down. It was as if the crib refused to let him go.

Startled awake by the weight of Connor’s body careening into the bed beside her, Riri finally joined the rest of her Padded Palace peers in consciousness. “Connow? Wuhs goin’…oh, Goddess no,” she said, immediately breaking from groggy Little Space as she caught sight of Latasha and Skye. Being under the assumption that the nursery’s matriarch wasn’t supposed to be back until late Sunday afternoon, her immature brain was left to draw the only conclusion it could, “DID WE SLEEP FOR TWO DAYS?!”

Raising her hand, Stacy was quick to piggyback off Riri’s realization. “No, ya dork! It’s still Saturday. Which begs the question, why exactly aren’t you both at CrissCon?” she said, curious as to what could’ve caused such an abrupt return home.

“Nuh-uh! You’re not changing the subject,” said Latasha, refusing to let Stacy control the conversation while simultaneously deflecting any mention of CrissCon. Turning to confront Stacy directly, she was once again caught off guard by her grown-up transformation. From her perspective, she had only seen Stacy out of cutesy ABDL clothes twice in her entire life, and neither time was she wearing anything remotely like this, “For Pete’s sake, I just bought that dress.” Rage bubbled beneath the surface of her calm exterior. Connor losing control of the Padded Palace was one thing but that dress was Dior. She vigorously pointed to the living room, unintentionally ripping her sleeve away from Skye, “Everyone. Living room. One minute.”

Losing her grip on the one thing keeping her grounded, Skye could no longer withstand the pressure of her beloved nursery. Pushing past Latsha and Stacy, she sprinted upstairs for the safety of her bedroom as fast as her wobbly legs would allow.

“Skye!” cried Latasha, her voice unable to keep up with Skye’s running speed. On top of everything, a tantrum from Skye was the last thing she needed. It wasn’t like she wanted to let Skye run off alone. If anything, comforting would be far more preferable than dealing with the fallout of Connor’s wild weekend. However, she also knew Skye wasn’t going anywhere, while the other girls would be headed back to their respective homes as soon as she got ahold of their Bigs. As much as she wanted to kick her responsibility as the owner of the Padded Palace down the road, she couldn’t ignore what she’d seen, nor could she trust Connor to handle this for her. It pained her to shuffle Skye to the back burner but what choice did she have? She aggressively returned her attention to the group at large, “Did I stutter? March!”

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

Buried beneath a hefty layer of stuffies and pillows, Skye awoke to the familiar sensation of dried tears sticking to her cheeks. She hated crying herself to sleep, especially when her unrelenting anxiety was the primary cause. Recognizing she must’ve passed out after barricading herself in her room, she cautiously poked her head out from the swath of fuzzy friends surrounding her, relieved and disheartened to find no one had come for her yet. It was a bizarre dichotomy that left her both craving and abhorring isolation.

Regardless of which Skye desired more, it was difficult for an ADHD-riddled Little not to grow bored with no one around and nothing to do. Her diaper sagged close to her knees as she shuffled out of her open crib and quietly exited her room into the hallway, silently hoping that Stacy, Riri, and Ellie had already been picked up while she slept. To her dismay, at least two of the three were still present as she saw Riri and Stacy through the staircase’s banister, neither of whom were talking whatsoever. Moreover, her Mommy was nowhere in sight, who was just about the only person in the world she wanted to see right now.

Neither was Connor, for that matter, though Skye knew for a fact she wasn’t ready to face him yet. The image of a sissified and thickly padded Connor had branded itself in her brain, presenting itself prominently whenever she closed her eyes for longer than a few seconds. Before her trip to CrissCon, her experience interacting with sissy babies had been mostly in passing at other ABDL gatherings. Memories of her time spent playing with Jessy at the convention collided with her new perception of Connor as the making of a horny fantasy began forming in her pervy head; a fantasy that would see Connor as submissively sissified as Jessy was.

Curling her lips inward, it took no time for Skye to melt over the half-baked concept of a crossdressing Connor bumping diapers with her. What would it feel like to sit on such a stiffly pointed diaper? To have its plush tip thrusting against her mushy seat? To press her nose against a soft, yet turgid center? Perhaps a domineering Daddy wasn’t what she needed, after all. Perhaps all she ever needed was a proper playmate.

*CREAK!*

Lost within the haze of her lurid daydream, Skye's fidgety arousal caused her foot to accidentally shift atop the staircase’s squeaky center, resulting in an ear-piercing noise that drew both Stacy and Riri’s eyes. Deep crimson burned brightly in her cheeks as the heat of her naughty musings combined with the embarrassment of being caught while spying. Her eyes darted between her friends’ puzzled and concerned expressions momentarily, mentally debating her next step. Unsurprisingly, that step would be in the direction of her bedroom as she sought to flee from the scene of her dubious actions, throwing the door closed behind her with a volumescent *SLAM!*

Stuffed animals were sent flying in all directions as Skye dove onto her bed and resubmerged herself beneath its snuggly, plush-covered surface; an impenetrable hiding spot. Unfortunately, her rapid heart rate and cuddly surroundings did nothing to quell her omnipresent sex drive, which was already suffering from neglect after her trip to CrissCon concluded with a disappointing zero orgasms. She bucked her diaper-clad hips against her crib mattress, mindlessly indulging her need for stimulation and praying that no one had followed her.

*KNOCK-KNOCK!*

Groaning with her face mashed into her pillow, Skye cursed herself for having such attentive friends. “Psst, Skye. Cans we tawk?” said Riri through the door, prompting Skye to scowl as she once again wiggled to the edge of the bed. A massive part of her wanted to ignore Riri’s request outright. However, the idea of picking Riri’s brain for the juicy details of Connor’s sissy babification was equally as titillating. Riri was easily one of the biggest blabbermouths, second only to Ellie, and if she turned Riri away, there was a good chance she’d be stuck waiting until Monday to find out more.

Sighing out her frustration, Skye yanked open the door as confidently as she could. Sadly, her newfound boldness only afforded the door to open a crack. Still, it was progress. “No one ewse ish wif chus, wite?” she asked, her hands shaking due to the pace her heart was beating at. Why was it so hard to be brave? Distracted by her own thoughts, she failed to hear Riri’s response before she spotted that her friend was inching toward her. Her reaction was swift as Riri’s encroachment prompted her to re-shutter her door and return to her bed. Maybe waiting until Monday wasn’t such a bad idea.

Tragically, this was a sentiment Riri was in complete disagreement with. “Skye, am comin’ in,” she said, pushing Skye to return to her stuffie cocoon for protection.

“Go away! I wansa be awone,” said Skye, lying to both Riri and herself.

Riri instantly saw through Skye’s desperate attempt to push anyone and everyone away. “If chus weawwy wansa be awone, den why wewe chus on da staiws?” she asked, seizing on the logical fallacy in her nurserymate’s excuse, “Chus don hasta be awone jus cuz chus feew bads.”

“I don feew bads,” replied Skye, trying to configure a way to express her wants without stating them directly. She knew Riri was here to comfort her, making it all the more difficult to feel annoyed over her persistence. That being said, if Riri was going to be here spoiling a potential masturbation session, she may as well spill the beans while she’s at it. All she had to do was maneuver her dialogue with Riri in the right direction, “Ish jus a lot ta fink abouts. I was onwy gone a day an now evewyfing is sho diffwent. I didn know Connow even wiked weawin diapees or dwesses, so ta see chus an Ewwie wif him like dat was a wot. Chus didn know befo CwissCon, wite?

“Nuh! We founs out wast night!” reassured Riri, unaware that she was playing right into Skye’s hands. Parking herself on the floor adjacent to the bed, she reclined against the lowered crib bars to give Skye an entire bed’s worth of breathing room as she continued, “I know dis seems wike so much changed but it weawwy hasn. Connow’s stiww gonna be ouw cawegivew. Dis is jus…anudder side of Connow, and we sood be happy he twusts us enuff to show us.”

Fixing her face into a pout, Skye smushed her face into Lyle’s plush tummy. “Buh he didn show me!” she said, poking holes in Riri’s depiction of Connor.

“Buh he wiww! He jus nees time. Twust me, dis isn somefing he wans ta hide…not anymo,” said Riri, uncertain how much of her private conversations with Connor was appropriate to relay to Skye. The things he told her were extremely personal and, at times, very heavy. At the same time, she also knew Skye was likely to find out soon enough, especially the details related to Connor’s now fully realized and kinky desires, “Chus wood be suwprised at how siwwy Connow can be while in Widdwe Space. Chus sood ask him bouts it. I don fink he’d push chus away.”

Playing down her excitement over the way Riri gushed about Connor’s Little side, Skye was practically frothing at the mouth. She needed to know more. “I no finks he wansa. He’s nuh said a wowd ta me since. I fink he’s too embawwassed,” she said sorrowfully, emphasizing her need for Riri to be the one to tell her.

An estranged quietude hung over Skye’s room as she waited for Riri’s answer. To her surprise, it wasn’t words but soft laughter that broke the silence. “Hehe, dats definitewy not gonsa be an issue,” she said, with Skye’s final sentence reminding her of the blushy discovery she and Ellie had made, “If anyfing, bein’ embawwassed is exactwy wuh Connow wans.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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[griffin-wood]

almost is never enough.

pairing: nick wiseman x oc (naya davis) (NICK MANCERS UNITEEEE)

summary: nick and Naya says goodbye on her last day at UCRT.

a/n: from future alya, this was written two years ago. and I'm having withdrawal of nick-mancer au and I remember this fic exist. SO, I'm saying laissez faire, its out to the world!

Nick stood waiting outside of Adsila's office - as they promised for one last rodeo a.k.a a night out with whiskey with one Naya Davis. Naya came to UCRT, for the last year as she was recruited to become a detective with who Nick has been assigned with.

He held onto the box of cookies, he made earlier today. It's was a dozen of chocolate chip cookies - which is apparently his comfort recipe. It's a token of gratitude for everything Naya has done for him.

He remembers the nights where she helps him with a million types of distractions. Aside from whiskey night at the bar, they would often walk around in the city at night - somehow seeing the world in a different new light. And it's become theirs.

Nick didn't know what he has been feeling inside of him, he knew something changed in his heart. He knew he was slowly starting to fall for her, but there's a pinch of fear. Fear of rejection? Maybe. Fear of not being good enough? Always. He sighs before clearing the negative thoughts away as the door opens revealing a surprised Naya at the sight of one Nicholas Wiseman.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Nick sheepishly tries his best to be subtle but fails miserably.

"I'm - I'm just waiting for you. Gray told me Adsila wanted to see you - so, here...I am!"

Naya let out a chuckle, a wide grin on her face.

"I appreciate Black for giving you the Intel. Now, let's get going for whiskey night shall we?" She states as she linked her arms with Nick walking away from ucrt for the final time together.

-

"It's okay, it's on me." Naya took out an extra bill as she paid the bartender.

Nick raised an eyebrow,

"Is it a blue moon, or did you just do something charitable there Davis?"

She just shrugged, the smile remains on her lips. Her leather jacket hangs perfectly on her shoulders, as he noticed - all the eyes on her. He mentally rolled his eyes at them, before scowling their way.

"It's a farewell gift, I suppose. We agreed the first drink was on you - and the final one is from... me." She took a sip of the whiskey as he follows suit.

They were silent, only the sound of chattering can be heard. Nick took the opportunity to pop a question in between.

"So, are you ready to leave?"

"Wiseman, I swear you are intending to make me cry tonight huh?"

"Nuh-uh, I'm just curious. And like, you've been here a year now. It must be hard to say goodbye."

She nods slowly,

"It's been a good year, but - my job is calling me back home. And well, when you are used to saying the unexpected goodbyes. It's just, part of life actually." Her words are the harsh truth, somehow - Naya has been through quite a number of lose in her life. Her father was the first one she has to go through, and it never gets easier.

A squeeze of a hand-pulled her back from her consciousness. Her eyes land on his hand, squeezing it - as she took a deep breath. The gesture was returned, as Naya mouths, a 'thank you to him.

-

"Wanna get out of here?" Nick proposes an idea as he downs the glass of water.

"Where to?"

He thinks for a moment,

"Our final adventure." He places his hand out for her, and she takes it as they left the bar.

He walks beside her, as the motorcycle was left behind at the bar. The road lights guiding them on this adventure, as their hands still intertwined in one another.

There's a ladder, a familiar one too.

"no way - this is..." She was cut off, by a smiling Nick Wiseman.

"This is our final adventure, courtesy of you of course. The first time; you brought me here to yell the craziness away." They both climb on the ladder, somehow the familiarity of it all is causing a sense of deja vu.

It was an abondoned rooftop, Naya found months ago. It was the earliest memory she has with Nick after the incident. She found this place and decided; it'll be their place, just like everything else they have found together in the past year.

-

"Nicholas Hyacinth Wiseman, you are...." "Amazingly handsome, a pure genius - you can keep on going there Naya. I don't mind." He playfully winks her way, as she nudges an elbow to his stomach. "A pure idiotic genius." She finishes the sentence, as they get themselves comfortable. The view of the AEON building is visible from the rooftop, along with the metro line - and even the lights from the houses below. Its a whole different world from above.

"I'll take that compliment Nay-nay." She winces at the nickname, nick wiseman have opted quite a number of nicknames for her. She would nudge him for it - but, for tonight she'll let it go. For sentimental sake.

"you ain't gonna punch me for the nick-name, miss Davis?"

"Nope, it's our last night together. Give me your worst." She shoots a reply his way, as the battle of nicknames begun for a whole minute. Both of them ended up laughing by the end of it, somehow letting themselves lose completely.

"I'm gonna miss you." She smiles sadly as her eyes met with his.

"Is it the cookies or the company?"

"The cookies of course - but, I wouldn't say no to the company as well." The wide smile of his face says it all - as he took out the cookies from his bag.

"Here you go. A gift, from yours truly."

Naya eyes the content in the Tupperware, and her grin widen at the sight of the chocolate chip cookies. It's literal comfort, as she took a bite of one of it. Savouring the taste, it feels like stepping into an olden memory.

"It never gets old. Did I manage to convince you for the recipe?"

He shakes his head, a laugh escaping his lips.

"No can do, it's a wiseman special."

"Fine, fine. But, did Maia put up a fight for these - cause I know I will." She replies before setting the cookies in her bag.

"She tried to take one of them, but - hey, it's a special occasion. However, I have a new batch ready for her in the fridge. It's all good." He says with a look that reassures her that Maia will be alright.

Naya nods in understanding, after meeting Maia - they both hit it off instantly and, she admits she's going to miss the kid.

"I'll miss her. She's better company, but I couldn't say no to free cookies Nicholas."

"Har-har, she will miss you too. Both Salome and button - definitely will miss your fashion tips. I don't get what they see in leather jackets. It's old-school."

He received a painful nudge once again,

"Don't insult the leather, it's iconic. It screams, me. And I like it." She sticks out her tongue playfully his way, as he surrender.

"Fine, maybe one day - you'll convince me after all on how superior leather jackets are."

She went quiet - one day. She doesn't know when she'll be back here. It's not home, but the past year - it feels like home. It's not the ones with walls, but... a home with a heartbeat and a pair of gray eyes who's watching her with consideration.

"one day.. yeah."

Nick rubs his hands together,

"you'll come back right?"

She shrugs once more, she doesn't know. In the past, every assignment was done perfectly; she can leave without having some sort of attachment but, now it seems impossible. There's this feeling inside her wishing that she would stay, her mind and heart battling in an invisible argument - yet, it's not enough. Almost, but it's not enough.

"I'm not sure actually." Her playful tone from before has disappear as her gaze lands on the buildings in front of them. The moon shines brightly above them - as her gaze falls on Nick again.

He is thinking deeply, she knew that look on his face. The familiarity of the look during game night at his house, as she won 5 rounds of monopoly together alongside with Sally and Maia.

"What are you thinking about?"

His eyes met with hers again, a sad smile on his face - a solemn reply which follows.

"Thinking of a good way to say goodbye."

Oh. It's actually happening then.

"Whiskey, check. Secret hide-out, check. What more can you do to make this farewell perfect, wiseman? It already is." She stood up, and stood as Nick follows from behind. Their tracks stopped at the ledge of the roof as they took a seat.

"Well, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Can I kiss you?"

Naya looks up instantly, meeting his eyes which is filled with genuine sadness as his smile warms her heart. She raised an eyebrow at the question - not saying no, not saying yes either.

"As something to remember me by."

A loud laugh escape her lips as the blush on his face is visible even in the dark. How easily flushed he is, it was actually adorable.

"You getting bold huh Wiseman."

He scoots a bit closer to her, filling the empty gaps.

"I got the best teacher then." His voice was smooth - as it's Naya's turn to blush at the response.

As she tilt her head up, she was met his face inches away from her. The look on his face, somehow asking for permission as she nods slowly, a part of her wanting this too.

In a few moments, her lips met with his. As they kissed - there was intensity in the action, as both of them return the kiss with such intensity of their own. It feels right, as Naya founds herself, wanting more. She wants more, but she stops herself - as their foreheads meet. Opening her eyes, finding his which is looking at her with a new profound softness within the gaze.

"That's quite an amazing farewell."

"Beats the whiskey and the rooftop then?"

"Nah, it's the best of all worlds." She says while smiling, as her hands found his.

He didn't pull away, as he tightens the hold of her hands in his. The silence that follows feels the loudest, it's filled with questions, what does it mean? Where do they go from here? What does the future hold for them and...will it be enough to let her stay?

She somehow read his mind as their gazes met once again.

"I can't stay. And, I don't know what the future might hold - but, all these times. I'm glad to have you by my side Nick." It's one of the rare moments where she uses his name instead of his full name, it feels right.

"I thought...I wish you could stay. Is it not enough?"

"You'll always be enough Nicholas, but..." She can't continue her sentence, yet he nods understanding.

"It's alright, I'll wait for you - until you are ready."

"Nick, what if...?"

"Falalala, I can't hear you." She laughs at this, he always knows how to change the topic. It frustrates her a lot, but...this time it's needed.

The clock strikes almost 3 a.m. as they decided to part ways.

"So, this is goodbye then."

"The official goodbye? Then, yes." He stood there with her, in the empty parking lot of the bar.

He was about to say a few words, before she pulls him into an embrace. A tight one, with a message that is loud and clear.

"You'll be alright out there Nicholas. You'll always be alright."

Her glassy eyes, met with his. She smiles sadly her way, and leans forward placing a kiss on his cheek before letting him go.

She puts on her helmet, and ride away from him. Every distance feels like an eternity, but... it has to be done. Another moment she stood there - she knew she couldn't leave. She almost did, but almost is never enough. And, she couldn't give him 'almost' but, maybe in the future - almost will transform into a 'yes'. One day.

-

Nick stood on the road, his hands waving back at her. It's definitely goodbye, for real. A sigh escaped his lips, before his hands land on the place where Naya kisses him again. It feels warm, before he leaves the area - making it back home.

The sound of the television startle him, as he saw Maia munching on a few cookies while watching a movie on her own with Mr.Snodgrass in her arms.

"Hey button, it's late."

"I'm watching some stuff, it's the... weird dreams again." She stated as she lowered down the volume a little.

Nick nods understanding,

"How are you feeling now?"

"A bit better, cartoons. They helped, so - any news about Naya?" Her curiosity peaked within the question.

Nick took a seat on the couch beside her, as he munch on a cookie.

"I kissed her actually."

A surprised look flicker on maia's face before a wide smile appears - as she waits for good news that follows it.

"Did she decide to stay?" The enthusiastic tone in her voice makes him smile regardless. However, the smile instantly transform into a small frown as he shook his head.

A frown also painted on maia's expression.

"Do you think you'll see her again?"

He nods slowly, uncertainty fills his voice.

"I'm not sure - maybe someday."

Maia quiets down, and nods. She took another cookie, passed it his way.

"It's okay Nick-nack, she'll always be with you."

He takes the cookie gratefully, and nods. Maybe, as his mind wonders again - someday.

THE END.

tagging some nick-mancers fans i know: @cadetzarneki , @ambrosykim , @moderarato , @wayhavenots (idk who else ahh, but enjoy heh)