#once they got the squishy humans attention they chirp

[kayla-crazy-stuffs]

Unnamed mer crossover part 4 (Discontinued)

Okay so, @squishys-soft-stories and I decided to discontinue this crossover :') we are sorry if you enjoyed it and wanted to see more for it but this is the last part that we are going to post for it, that also is unfinished...

But anyways.... Enjoy :']

2K words

TW: Safe/soft vore, unsafe vore mention, fear of being eaten (I think that's it, tell me if I missed some warnings)

Wrote by @kayla-crazy-stuffs

It was around ten in the morning when the boys finished getting ready to head back to the beach as Bad and Skeppy would be arriving soon to spend the day there. "So, are we ready to go?" Quackity asked as he held up the bottle where Sapnap was in. "Yeah, but do you really have to put the mers in bottles?" The human Sapnap commented.

"Of course, not everyone knows that mers exist, so we have to keep them hidden. Luckily, people don't go to the beach we go to, because they don’t like it." George said, carrying the bottle of Dream. The humans Dream, Sapnap, and little George and Karl nodded in understanding.

They began to walk towards the beach, arriving in less than twenty minutes. Bad and Skeppy were already there waiting for them. "Hey, Bad, Skeppy, we hope we haven't kept you waiting too long." Quackity said. "Don't worry muffinheads, we just got here too." Bad answered with a smile.

“Then we should start putting the things down and getting the fish out of the bottles.” George said, unable to stop himself from laughing when he said the last thing. “Hey! We’re not fish! We are mers!” said Dream and Sapnap at the same time once they opened the bottle caps. “It’s basically the same, dude, you’re literally half fish.” Quackity replied chuckling.

:]

Wrote by @squishys-soft-stories

George was a bit too curious. He was surprised that he had made it this long without taking action. He slowly and silently walked his way up to the fish-Dream, and placed a finger on his tail. It felt weird, stiff yet slippery, and felt nice to the touch. And maybe he shouldn’t have touched his tail, because now he was wrapped in the arms of a very wet mer. “Gogy!” Dream chirped. “Hey Dream.” He deadpanned. “I missed you!” “We saw each other all day.” “But I couldn’t hug you!” George audibly sighed. “Why are you like this?” He asked. “Because I like hugging you.” Dream responded. “Please. You are getting my clothes wet.” “Nope!” Dream cheered in response. George just sighed, and looked Dream in the face, before turning away quickly. He hated how much the mer looked like his Dream. He turned his attention to Bad and Skeppy, who were happily messing around in the water. “Do you want to go play with them?” George asked. “Yeah.” George smiled, as he slipped one hand underneath the mer’s tail, and slid his hand around his back, before lifting him up. George walked with him for a little, before dropping him in the water. “There-” George said, before he was dragged under with Dream. George came back up, only seconds later. “Dream! Don’t do that!” George shouted as he grasped for breath. He hears Dream’s little laugh, and watches as the mer started to swim around him. “And that’s enough.” George heard a much louder Dream speak, as he was pulled up out of the water. “Hey!” George heard the mer speak in retaliation from his new perch atop Dream’s shoulder. George rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue as a taunt. George smiled as he saw Dream reach up to pat his head, before he was suddenly lifted upwards by nimble fingers, and held tightly in the air. “George!” He heard Dream shout.

:]

Wrote by @kayla-crazy-stuffs

Punz was sitting calmly on some rocks below a cliff, smiling softly at seeing how the mers and humans were all together having a good time, or so he assumed. Everything was quiet until he saw how another pelican hybrid quickly approached the group of humans and mers, snatching a small human, something he had never seen before.

Punz didn't waste a second and quickly headed towards the other hybrid, who had flown high enough that the humans wouldn't catch him. "Hey! What are you doing? Stop it!" he told the hybrid. The other with a mocking smile answered him. "Oh no, not even kidding, this little snack will satiate my hunger for a while." Punz could see the human squirming as he tried to free himself.

"It's a human, not food. Give him to me, now." Punz said in a serious voice. The other pelican only scoffed more. "The loser trying to be the hero? How nice. Do you want the snack? Over my corpse." Punz's eyes widened as the hybrid began to lift the small human over its mouth, while the human yelled for him to let go.

Finally Punz pounced on the other pelican, causing him to drop the human, which was thrown upwards, falling shortly after. Punz pushed the hybrid away from him, still keeping a tight grip on him and narrowly managed to catch the human in his mouth, sending him into his neck pouch. "Stupid asshole! That was my lunch! Now because of you I have nothing to eat since the ones below have slipped away!" He yelled at Punz looking down and back at him.

The hybrid growled angrily, pushing Punz out of his way and starting to fly away from him. Punz heaved a sigh pulling the human out of his bag. "I'm sorry, about all this…" he said softly before going down to the sand, placing the human on top of it, feeling several angry looks on him.

:]

Wrote by @squishys-soft-stories

It all happened in a flash, and Karl couldn’t process it. Karl watched in fear as George was ripped off of Dream’s shoulder, and fought over by two pelican hybrids. Karl was only able to process the sudden swallowing that had taken George, bringing back memories that he longed to forget. He felt Sapnap’s fingers wrap around his now shaking form, and tranced his gaze to the pelican, now gently setting George on the sand. Karl frowned, as he noticed Sapnap’s hands started to cover himself more. It was probably for protection, but he wanted to help comfort George. He tried to fight the grip, but that only seemed to cause the hand to tighten. “What the heck!” He felt Sapnap’s voice vibrate across his chest. Karl pushed harder, only to be pushed back in response. He couldn’t move his limbs now, so he turned to using his head. “What do you mean, ‘what the heck’? I just saved him!” Came a voice, although new and unfamiliar. “We already deal with enough issues as it is. We do not want him traumatized.” He heard Dream speak, slightly muffled. “He was safe! I can tell none of you have taken animal biology because you don’t know that pelicans have a neck pouch!” They spoke again. “That’s enough.” Karl frowned as he heard Bad speak. He hoped that he wouldn’t do anything terrible. “Hey! Let go of me!” Karl saw light out of the corner of the eye. He slowly turned his head so that Sapnap wouldn’t feel the motions. It was just big enough to fit his foot through. He struggled against the grip of Sapnap, moving his leg so that his foot was suspended over the hole. He slipped his foot inside, and in one motion, he kicked Sapnap’s hand, and pushed against his chest. Karl should have thought it through, as he fell downwards. “Karl!” Sapnap shouted as he swiftly scooped him out of the sky. “Stop-” “No, you stop.”  “Karl, I do not like this attitude-” “Sapnap, I know more about this kind of thing then you would ever think about. Had they actually put him in his stomach or whatever, it would’ve taken longer to bring him back up.” Karl could see the realization smack him in the face as most anger left him. “You couldn’t have told us earlier?” “You had my face pinned to your chest. I couldn’t speak, even if I wanted to.” “Oh.” Karl rolled his arms, before turning to the pelican hybrid. “Can you tell me what you did?” He asked. “I couldn’t keep him in my hands, so I sent him to my neck pouch.” They took their free hand and pointed to their neck. Karl nodded. “All you have to do is give people a little bit of understanding and a chance to explain, and everything is clearer!” Karl said with a cheer. “Are you okay George?” Karl turned to see George, who was shaking slightly, but seemed to have calmed down, if only a little. “That was something I never want to experience again.” George deadpanned. Karl nodded. “I don’t know how you put up with that.” Karl shrugged in response.

:]

Wrote by @kayla-crazy-stuffs

Bad sighed softly feeling how everyone was beginning to relax a bit about the situation.  He looked at the hybrid who seemed to be shifting slightly uncomfortably in his place.  "Now that I think about it, your wings look different and smaller than what they should."  Bad commented, looking at the pelican hybrid's wings.  He glanced at him nervously before looking away from him.  "Uhh… I'd rather not talk about it…" Bad hummed in understanding.  The human Karl clapped his hands to get their attention.

 "Okay, how about you stay with us for a while? We planned to eat soon."  The pelican looked at him doubtfully.  "Uhh- I don't know… I don't think I should… I can clearly tell that there are several who are still scared of me while others are probably still mad about what happened…" Tiny Karl and George looked at each other for a moment before looking back at the hybrid. "You can stay, we don't mind." Karl said with a hand on his chest. “Uh… I don't think I-” “Please????” They both interrupted at the same time. The pelican looked at them uncertainly for a moment before sighing. “Okay…” once he said that Quackity reached for his arm guiding him to where he could sit.

"You can sit here." he said as he sat the hybrid down between him and Karl. “Uh… okay.” he answered by looking slightly at the human Dream before looking down. "Don't worry about Dream, he's just a little upset, nothing more." Quackity said, smiling slightly. "So, since you're a pelican, I guess you'll eat fish, right?" added Skeppy, who was lying on Bad's hand. The hybrid hesitated to answer for a moment before slowly nodding his head. “Alright then, we have like five fish that I caught a while ago in that bucket.” Bad commented, pointing to a nearby bucket.

The hybrid glanced nervously at the bucket before quickly shaking his head. “No-… No need… I- I'm not hungry…” he finally blurted out. Mer Dream frowned looking at his brother. “Do you think he's okay? Pelicans usually eat a lot and he doesn't seem to have eaten anything…” he whispered to Sapnap. "I don't believe you're not hungry." Skeppy snapped seriously. “You pelicans tend to be very hungry, your kind usually tends to eat about 4 kilograms of fish. It is impossible for you not to be hungry in the early hours of noon.” he continued to be watched by everyone except the hybrid, who was looking down at the sand.

“You can't lie to us, you know, we can tell you're hungry. Why do you say that is not true?" he added a little softer. “Do you have a problem maybe? Because if they gave me free food, the truth is that I would not refuse to take it. So you must probably have some problem.” Mer Dream said. The hybrid pelican shook his head. “I-I don't have a problem…” “That's yet another lie. I've noticed that every time you lie your wing feathers ruffle, before when you talked about protecting George, you had them fine, but when you started stuttering from the lies you started telling, they got like this .” Quackity commented as he pointed to the hybrid's wings.

:]

Wrote by @squishys-soft-stories

Karl didn't like being right. Something had seemed off about the pelican hybrid when they started talking, and now he knew. He wanted to free himself from Sapnap's grip and comfort their new friend, but he couldn't. Sapnap was just too strong. "Please don't lie. I know from personal experience that lying gets you nowhere. I don't want to force any information out, but don't try to hide it." Karl spoke.

[delimeful]

the end of being alone (4)

warnings: mentions of Roman's tragic backstory, health concerns, chronic fatigue mentions, but really mostly fluff

-

“Roman!” A hushed whisper-yell came from halfway across the cave.

Roman looked up from where he was carefully taking apart and cleaning out his communicator, feeling a stab of exhaustion upon seeing Patton crouched next to their resident baby Human. They’d just spent what felt like half a suncycle entertaining the kid, who seemed to wake up with more energy than all three of them combined.

Virgil was in fact the source behind the crumbs of mud and dirt that had worked their way into the cracks of his communicator: Logan was currently at the ship working inventory, and the kid had insisted on checking up on him as often as he remembered that the Ulgorii wasn’t with them, which was often.

Still, they’d managed to tucker him out eventually, and he’d fallen asleep in their presence for the third time ever, which felt like some kind of accomplishment in itself.

An accomplishment that they were about to undo if Patton didn’t stop making a ruckus. Roman drew his hands apart slowly, signing ‘quiet’ at his friend as he cast one last look at the partially assembled communicator and then padded over.

“What is it?” he signed, since whispering was both rough on his throat and not always guaranteed to come out as low volume as he’d like.

Patton took a moment to gesture wildly at the Human, who was slumped over on his side. Roman felt a sudden stab of fear, and leaned over to check his breathing.

To his relief, Virgil was simply sleeping, no injuries or illness visible in him. He turned a frustrated stare onto Patton. If the Ampen had called him over here and scared the scales off of him just to have another fit about how cute the Human was, he was turning right around and walking to the nearest river to dunk his head under and scream.

Before he could say as much, Patton finally found his words. “Roman, he’s purring!”

Roman jerked back slightly in surprise. “He’s what?”

“Purring!” Patton looked up at him, antennae fluttering back and forth rapidly like he couldn’t contain his confused alarm. “He’s never done this before! Do you think…,”

Roman moved closer, ears pricking forward attentively. Sure enough, there was a low little buzz coming from the Human. He couldn’t help but notice the purr’s odd tone, the weakness of it, the way it stuttered and paused and occasionally seemed to falter entirely.

“It’s not right,” he muttered to himself, placing the pads of his hand on the Human’s torso and feeling the faint buzz.

Patton whistled in worried query, glancing between them both. “Is he hurt?”

“He’s Human, Pat, I don’t know if—,” Roman froze midway through lifting his hand away; Virgil was making a short, high noise, almost like a whine. His little face had crinkled up in sleep, the way Human distress looked, and his purr had turned to hitching breaths.

Roman glanced at his broken communicator and swore under his breath, feelings strong enough to make Patton fluff up with secondhand panic.

“I’ll go find Logan!” he said, twisting and scampering out of the cave, quick enough that his skittered footsteps had vanished by the time Roman’s wordless sound of protest made it out of him. Roman had longer legs, and Patton was better with the kid, so why had things turned out like this?!

He looked back down at Virgil, who had begun to unconsciously curl inward, leaving his back exposed. The motion hardly made sense; according to the body scan Logan had coaxed the kid through, the center of all his nerves met there, with only a thin layer of skin and muscle surrounding it.

He had no scales or rough hide or even fluffy plumage to protect his back, but he still curled up with it facing out, as though defending his squishy underside like a Crav’n.

The thought made something in him twist, and his scales went slicked back as another whimper tore through the tiny Human. He glanced at the cave opening: There was no sign of the others’ return. It would probably be a while yet.

Regardless, Roman couldn’t wait around and watch a kit cry any longer. He carefully lifted the Human up into the curl of one arm, crooning lowly at him. Virgil settled slightly, but the tiny, haphazard purr had yet to start back up, and the thought was enough to make him feel nauseous with worry.

He reached back and only hesitated a fraction before unhooking his plate armor, pulling it free and setting it away for the first time in the kit’s presence. Despite the sounds of metal, Virgil didn’t wake, head slumped against a shoulder and gangly limbs pulled in tight.

Still, no purr. Not even that sickly little stutter.

If Virgil had been a Crav’n, a true pup, he would have spent each night cuddled up with his family, falling asleep to their low rumbles and quickly developing his own. It was an automatic reflex, a vital part of deep sleep, a vibration that kept their bodies in good condition.

There were ways it could go wrong. If a pup was abandoned, they’d have problems developing their purr alone. If a pup felt... unsafe enough, they’d stop purring entirely, quiet even in the deepest sleep. When it was a choice between being healthy and not being hunted, even the smallest pups knew which to choose.

Even after rescue, it could be a struggle to regain the reflex, especially without close family. It had taken Roman years to manage, and he could still remember how much better he’d felt when he’d woken up after a full night of low, purring sleep. The sense of relief that came with realizing the ache in his bones didn’t have to be permanent.

Roman wavered, looking down at Virgil. The kid was Human. There was no guarantee this was even what he needed.

But if he did need it, the way Roman had needed it so long ago…

He pressed a thumbpad to the little crinkle in the Human’s brow, smoothing it out, and then sat down with a little grumble of acceptance. He shifted to lean back, his tail keeping him balanced as he settled Virgil’s little curled up form atop his chest.

It had been a while since he had purred while conscious. Parents got plenty of practice, of course, but once a kit was old enough, everyone would greet them with their own rumble, let them know they were safe. It was the best way for older kids to keep practicing their purrs while awake, too.

He hadn’t practiced in a long time, but looking down at the kit, he found his own deep, consistent purr started up with barely a hitch.

It took a few moments, but Virgil cuddled closer, seeming to lose a little of that fearful tension. Roman carefully adjusted him as he got floppier, and frowned at the little sharp bits of bone he could feel under the skin. Patton was right; the kid needed to eat more.

Embarrassingly, his purr got louder, as though he could heal months’ worth of living off a scavenger diet through pure force of will. He should tone it down. He wasn’t a brand new parent looking after their first pup. He didn’t even know if this would help at all.

…

Well, it couldn’t hurt to keep trying, though, could it?

—

When Patton scrambled into the cave ahead of him and then stopped short, Logan feared the worst.

He’d always known that this venture could end in disaster, from the moment they’d realized they were dealing with a Human. Roman had been worried about aggression or violence, the classic fears when it came to Deathworlders and the expected response considering the Cravon’s past.

Logan had been more worried about the situation itself. The black market trafficking industry had led to an abhorrent number of cases with rescued feral children. Very few of them had been successfully socialized, and though Virgil was older and seemed to be improving with them, his worry about the child had never quite gone away.

“Is he…,” Logan felt his throat buzz with some sort of wordless grief, and Patton turned to look at him with wide eyes.

He chirped a negative as quietly as possible, and Logan felt some of the weight on him fall away. Reaching out, Patton curled his little fingers around Logan’s wrist, tapping an apology against his chitlin.

“They’re okay,” he whispered, and then pulled him forward excitedly. “I was just surprised, really surprised— look!”

Once his eyes had adjusted to the slight change in lighting, Logan could see Roman, who was laying on his back up against the wall of the cave, his face lax with sleep and a low rhythmic rumble emanating from his chest. This in itself wasn’t entirely unusual; Roman needed a lot of sleep, and he often took naps here and there.

No, the unusual element was the Human that currently had his cheek squished up against Roman’s neck, sprawled out in the most relaxed position he’d ever seen from the pupa. Roman’s chest plate had been set aside entirely.

“They’re cuddling,” Logan said, bewildered.

“They’re cuddling!” Patton squealed, ecstatic.

He clapped his hands over his mouth, but going by the way Roman’s purr shifted to a growl, the damage was done. Roman’s eyes slit open, and without a moment’s pause his tail curled in front of him defensively, his scales pricking up to make a wall of sharp points between them and Virgil.

The Cravon looked entirely ready to disembowel whoever had dared to try and disrupt the kid’s sleep.

“Roman,” Logan called dryly, “it’s us.”

He ran through his identifying ‘friend-safe’ clicks to cement the statement, but Roman was already settling his scales back down and averting his gaze.

“Sorry,” he forced out, ears flattened back with embarrassment as his growl settled back into that low purr Logan normally only heard while they were settling down to sleep. “Didn’t mean to—,”

“It’s quite alright,” Logan interrupted, unable to completely conceal the amusement he felt. Roman had yet to shift in any way that would jostle Virgil. “Though this is a touching scene, I was under the impression that something was wrong.”

Patton piped up to answer his non-question, though his antennae had yet to stop their excited swaying. “We found out Virgil purrs!”

As if on cue, a haphazard little buzz started up, a rough, faltering pattern that was barely audible. Roman lowered his own purr’s volume, though it seemed to make his ears twitch with reluctance.

They all went quiet to listen to the undersized sound for a moment, the Human still blissfully unaware of all the attention.

“It’s too weak by far,” Roman said, his Common a little more accented through the purr. He was looking at the Human in his arms with blatant worry, a far cry from his original reluctance to interact. “I didn’t know a purr could be this weak.”

“That’s because it’s not a purr,” Logan said, trying to keep any hint of fondness from his voice. His shipmates turned to look at him with wildly varying expressions.

“I’ve seen this phenomenon before,” he continued. “I used the medscanner to check Virgil over, because I had also originally assumed it was a purr, and if it was…,” he faltered.

He’d been just as alarmed as the two of them now were, hearing it. If it had been an internal maintenance process like a Crav’n purr, it would have been even quieter than Roman’s when they’d first started travelling together. He and Patton had witnessed firsthand the difference in Roman’s mood and health once he’d gotten through those rough nights.

Next to him, Roman’s ears were tucked completely flat, as though he knew exactly what Logan was remembering. Logan didn’t understand why Roman was so embarrassed by moments of weakness-- was often frustrated by his friend’s reticence, even-- but now wasn’t the time to address it.

“I was simply concerned about the possibility,” Logan finally settled on, “but after investigating his scan thoroughly, I found it was simply the result of soft tissue vibrations from a partially blocked airway.”

Patton blinked up at him. “What does that mean here?”

“It means I-- we freaked out for no reason,” Roman grumped, carefully pushing himself up as his purr ground to a stuttering halt.

Logan held out a stilling hand. “Not necessarily.”

“So, it is a bad thing?” Patton asked, drooping.

“Not at the moment, however,” Logan cast a meaningful look at Roman, “I have no control to work off of, but I do believe Virgil’s general skeletal and muscular health is in worse shape than they should be. He may not have the capability to self-maintain like you, Roman, but that doesn’t mean he gains no benefits from this. The opposite, really.”

Roman slumped back down immediately, eyes wide. “It’s helping?”

“Yes,” Logan confirmed. “I was planning to bring the topic up with you, actually, once you were more comfortable around him.”

“I’m so proud of you!” Patton chirped delightedly, darting forwards to bump his head against Roman’s chin. “You really stepped up when he needed you, Roman.”

“Of course I did, who do you think I am?” Roman shot back confidently. Everyone politely pretended not to notice the flustered twitching of his tail. Patton peeked over Roman’s shoulder, crooning slightly at the sight of Virgil.

“Cuddle pile!” he cheered softly, using Roman’s arm as a helpful bar to climb up onto him. Roman shifted obligingly, shifting his horns into range for easy handholds when Patton inevitably slipped.

As soon as Patton was settled, feathers puffed out for maximum soft padding, the two of them turned to look at Logan with matching pleading expressions, as though choreographed. Logan clicked with faux reluctance even as he stepped closer.

“Oh, very well,” he conceded, and was pulled into the haphazard pile posthaste.

He mentally tabled the rest of inventory for later, knowing quite well that nothing was going to  get done for as long as the impromptu session lasted.

Still, with his friends beside him and Roman’s pleased purr rumbling through him, he couldn't seem to find anything to complain about.

[sinner-as-saint]

Too Young To Love You

Chubby!Bucky x reader

Requested.

Run-through: You come home from uni to spend the holidays with your parents. And you find out that your feelings for a certain man named Bucky hasn’t died out completely yet. One look at him and the sparks and butterflies came to life again. However, there are a couple of issues which stand in the way. First, Bucky’s twice your age. And second, he’s your dad’s best friend.

Themes: age gap, smut, fluff, slight bratty!reader, language, dad’s best friend!bucky, dirty talk

“Hey there, Buck!” you chirped as you walked into your parent’s kitchen.

He turned around, “Hey babygirl.” He gave you his usual warm smile which accentuated his squishy cheeks you secretly loved so much.

Bucky was your parent’s new next door neighbor. And to celebrate your homecoming for the summer, your parents had invited him over for dinner tonight – which he was also helping in making right now.  

You admired the handsome man from afar. Sure it was immoral and wrong, but you couldn’t help but develop a crush on Bucky Barnes – your dad’s best friend.

 It started when you first met him, a couple of years ago when him and his girlfriend at the time, Natasha joined you and your parents on a summer trip. He caught your eye immediately, despite the age difference. He was sweet and kind and so damn attractive and cute. He was funny as well. You remember how quickly you had gotten comfortable around him.

He made you laugh for hours on end at the lakeside while your family had barbeque nights almost each night that summer. His long dark hair was his best feature, you concluded. Then his sinfully pink lips. But you liked his built better. Tall and broad, soft around the middle, thick thighs and squishy cheeks. And those blue eyes… those damn blue eyes. You were young though, too young. Only eighteen at the time. And your naïve heart fell for him right there and then. He was magnetic, the kind of person you want to be around all the time.

But you knew there was no scope for you two. There was no way. So you took your secret crush on him and went off to university. But you didn’t entirely forget about him, the crush you had on Bucky diminished eventually as you began going on dates with boys your age here and there. But it didn’t die out entirely.

 Babygirl… the nickname Bucky had given you around three years ago still made you feel warm and tingly. You never knew when exactly did he decide to call you ‘babygirl’, perhaps it was that summer day, three years ago, when you and him went on a boat ride around the lake while his girlfriend and your parents were asleep at the cabin.

You remembered that day like it was yesterday. You remembered how his hair moved with the wind, and how soft he looked in that loose tank top, his hair tie on his wrist as he navigated the boat with expertise and marveled at the sunrise with you. You were convinced that that summer morning solidified your feelings for him. But there was nothing you could do. You were too young then. Too young to love him.

 “You need help with anything?” you asked and sat down on the stool by the breakfast bar. Bucky was busy making dessert, and he smiled and turned sideways to look at you.

“Nope, just keep me company. I got this.” He winked and your heart fluttered. How can a man be so wholesome and adorable but also so effortlessly sexy at the same time?

You took advantage of the fact that your parents weren’t home – out on an impromptu trip to the store – to rope Bucky into a conversation you were dying to have.  

“So,” you began casually, “How’s your girlfriend?” you asked, knowing damn well him and Natasha weren’t a thing anymore. They broke up early last year – you found out while you were scrolling through social media. But you didn’t want Bucky to know that you spied on him online so you played dumb for a minute.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head playfully. “No, no, no we’re starting with you! How’s your boyfriend? How many poor boys’ hearts are you breaking out there?” he asked, stirring what seemed to be chocolate ganache in a bowl.

You laughed. Oh well, your parents must’ve told him all about you and the boy you were messing around with.

“He’s not a boyfriend. Peter is just… you know.” your answer made him chuckle.

“Oh I know. What does he do?” Bucky asked, and he seemed genuinely interested.

“He studies music. He’s in a band on campus.” You answered, and added, “And we hold hands sometimes.”

Bucky laughed and set the bowl down, reaching for a napkin. “Good girl. Don’t you do more than just hold hands, young lady. You hear me?” he said playfully. He often did this thing whenever he met you where he pretended to be a strict adult advising you against young boys who could potentially break your heart.

You found it rather adorable. But today you felt extra confident, especially after you noticed that he had been ‘accidentally’ staring at your exposed legs – courtesy to the short plaid skirt you wore, and at your cleavage which was accentuated by the top you were wearing.

“Yeah? And what if I do more than just hold hands with the boys?” you asked, teasing. And if one were more attentive, one would surely catch the shameless lust hidden in your voice. Perhaps Bucky caught it too because he immediately turned around and gave you a look which you didn’t quite understand but liked nonetheless.

Even his slight frown was hot as hell.

“Those boys your age don’t know how to treat nice girls like you. They’ll end up just using you, so keep a safe distance.” He sounded polite, but still a little bothered – was this caused by the fact that you leaned back against the kitchen island, practically showing off your legs, chest and exposed skin because you simply wanted him to lose control for once and just touch you? Well, maybe a little.

Bucky wasn’t completely oblivious to what was going on. He caught the look in your eyes, a wild, indecent look – one he knew all too well. And as much as you were pretty and practically begging for his attention in ways which were sinful more than anything, Bucky couldn’t act the way you wanted him too. It was wrong, besides, you were too young.

“I know you do.” you said, seductively. And as ashamed of it as he was, Bucky couldn’t deny feeling a rush of excitement course through him as he heard the sound of your voice. You were basically presenting yourself to him, and he knew. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done? That way I’ll know who’s not worth my time.” You got off the stool and walked over to him, backing him against the counter.

Half of him wasn’t that surprised because, again, he wasn’t that oblivious. He noticed the way you acted around him, and how you dressed – always trying to get his attention. But Bucky had never crossed any lines. He wasn’t sure that would stay that way for long. Not given how you were behaving today.

You didn’t know where the confidence came from. You knew it would be another 30-40 minutes until your parents came back, so you figured why not just go for it now that you had Bucky alone all to yourself. And you could tell he was having a little trouble maintaining his composure.

Bucky chuckled nervously, lowkey surprised. “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You smirked, sensing his excitement and his nervousness at the same time. These were risky and dangerous territories you were stepping in, you had to be careful. Yet at the same time, all you wanted to do was carelessly pounce on him and deal with the aftermath later.

“You know what I mean.” You stepped closer to him. His body pressed against the counter and you left barely a few inches of distance between your body and his. You could feel his body heat radiating off him through his soft, cream colored sweater.

He watched you as you reached over and dipped a finger into the chocolate and lazily brought it up to your mouth, parting your lips seductively, pushing your finger past your lips and twirling your tongue around the tip of your finger. Licking the chocolate ganache off your skin as you held his stare. He hated to admit it, but something in him flipped like a switch right there and then.

Fuck…

“I want you.” you whispered, licking your finger clean. Something inside Bucky stirred. A raw need. A desire. A burning hot one. He almost reach out to touch you. Almost.

But then he stopped himself. No, this was wrong. You were just young and confused and you had no idea what you were doing. You were just a young girl. And Bucky couldn’t take advantage of you like that.

“Stop that.” he said sternly.

You smirked, knowing you were slowly but surely pushing him till right where you needed him. “Stop what?” you played dumb again.

He sighed. “You know what. Now to get some air outside and clear your head.” he sounded almost irritated. But you knew he was far from it. You could read people easily and Bucky’s eyes gave away that he was feeling guilty because you were succeeding in turning him on and seducing him.

He pushed you aside and tried to walk away to finish dessert but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back into you, pressing up against him. Smirking still. “Don’t run from me. What did I do that’s so wrong? I just said that I wanted you.” you wrapped your arms around his neck and he pulled your arms away from him gently.

He sighed again. “Don’t do this. You’re not thinking straight right now, okay? Just got get some air.” He persisted, resisting you even if every fiber of his body felt hot the moment you touched him.

You pouted, “I don’t need to get air. I need you.” you reached down and grabbed his hand and led it down your body, guiding his fingers under your skirt and in between your legs. Inching higher and higher until his warm fingers brushed against your bare, wet cunt.

He instinctively cupped you there and you hissed in pleasure. Fuck… he was only human too. And his primal, feral needs took over in less than a second. He still hesitated, and felt like he was being deviant by just touching you like this. Or worse, by liking the fact that he was touching you like this.

“See? You want me too.” You murmured and tried to lean in for a kiss. But Bucky pulled away from you, removing his hand from under your skirt and taking a step back.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He said in all seriousness. “Now stop being a brat.”

You tilted your head and raised an eyebrow. “No. But we can. No one has to know, Buck…” you purred as you took a step forward and pressed your body to his chest again.

“I can’t do that to you.” he whispered, and you noticed how he didn’t push you away this time as you snaked your arms around his neck. Feeling his broad shoulders under your touch, you smiled innocently looking up at him.

“Why not?”

“You’re too young.” his answer made you want to act up even more.

You chuckled, leaning closer. “Not anymore, Buck. I can show you I’m a big girl now.” you murmured, your hand discretely slipping between your bodies, down to his crotch where you shamelessly palmed him through his pants. You felt his semi erection; big, long and thick. You bit your lower lip as a feral desire coursed through you.

He hissed. “Y/N…” he said so threateningly. He was right on the edge of just saying ‘fuck it’ and giving into you as well you could tell, but he was also fighting it at the same time. The sound of your name leaving his mouth in such a lewd manner made a pleasant chill run down your spine.

“I want you, Buck.” you whispered again, hoping he’d see the desperation in your eyes. You were shamelessly begging. “I want you deep inside me,” he closed his eyes and fought the want to just take you relentlessly right there and then on the counter behind you. “I want to feel your big cock stretching me out,” you reached up and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. “I want you to fill me up with your cum and tell me you own my cunt-,”

You didn’t have time to finish that sentence as he growled and reached up to wrap his hand around your throat and pushed you backwards until your body was pressed up against the counter. Your words were making him all crazy. You smirked, despite being choked gently, at the sight of the raw hunger in his eyes. There was no going back now…

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” he whispered, running the tip of his nose along your cheek. He pressed his lower body further into yours and you whimpered as you felt his hard cock pressing against you right in between your legs. “What a dirty girl, begging for my cock like a good little slut…” he leaned in to bite your lower lip, tugging on it gently. His hand around your throat squeezed the sides of your neck gently.

You whined and your heart raced at how close he was to you. Finally…

“Please Buck… I’ll be good to you.” you murmured and he pulled away and smirked. You felt him press his body further into you, and you were convinced that your words were affecting him just like you wanted them to. “I’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”

One look into your eyes and he was done for. You were quite literally begging him to fuck you; lips parted, eyes wild and breathing heavily. Your body was hot with burning desire. How could he deny you what you wanted, especially when you looked like that? So ready and open.

“Really?” he teased, pushing his knee in between your legs and pressing his upper thigh up to your bare cunt. “You’re so desperate for my cock, aren’t you babygirl? You wanna show me you’re a big girl now, is that what this is?” he bit along your jaw and you whimpered, holding on to the counter behind you. “How fucking adorable…” he murmured against your skin. His voice deep and raspy and dripping with unrestrained lust.

You trembled against him. You whimpered when you felt his leg settling in between yours, pressing his clothed thigh against your bare, wet core. He applied just the slightest bit of pressure and you groaned. His voice, his words reverberated inside you and you whined; almost losing your mind due to how much you needed him in you already. He was edging you shamelessly and you could only take so much. “Please…” your plea made him chuckle darkly.

“Well first you gotta show me you even deserve my cock deep inside you, babygirl. Get on your knees.” He stepped back slightly, allowing you enough room to get down on your knees. “If you want my cock, you gotta earn it.” He spoke. You sank to your knees and then tilted your head up to look at him. You were so ready…

You hurried and unzipped his pants, then lowered his underwear to free his erected cock. The mere sight of his thick cock had you whining with need, but you decided to push your needs aside for now. Right now all you focused on was him, and proving to him that you did in fact, deserve to have his cock in you.  

You wrapped your hands around his throbbing cock and placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip. Bucky grabbed a fistful of your hair; tugging on it gently and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. “That’s it, babygirl. Take me nice and deep like a good little slut…” he murmured, his words fueling the fire inside you. You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. “Show me how bad you want me.”

You whined as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes and hissed, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. He looked so good you could cry. “Fuck…” he moaned and you quickened your pace. He thrust his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your mouth wrapped around his cock. You took him so perfectly.

Hollowing your cheeks, you felt a rush each time he gasped, or moaned, or growled. The sounds which escaped his lips made you squirm and it only added to the dampness which was forming in your underwear. You let his taste invade your senses; his scent and the velvety feel of his cock against your tongue was making you lose your mind.

You squirmed and clenched your thighs together, unable to take it anymore. You just needed some sort of release, quick. So you bobbed your head around him quicker, desperate to get him off so he could cater to your needs. He moaned and panted and tugged harder on your hair. “Come on that’s it, show me how bad you want it.”

Those words were all it took for you to suck on his cock until he came undone all over your tongue. He came with a moan and a sigh, closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him. You swallowed all of him, licked him clean and stood back up. He smirked and wrapped his hand around your throat again.

“You did good, babygirl.” He murmured and finally pressed his mouth to yours. He kissed you passionately, tongue pushing past your lips and stroking the top of your mouth. He hummed at the taste of him on your tongue; it was all too dirty and it made you whimper and tremble. Leaving you breathless with just one kiss.

He slipped his hand under your skirt and wasted no time in running his knuckles up and down your dripping cunt. He chuckled. “So fucking desperate, aren’t you?” his raspy voice whispered in your ear. “Bet those boys your age don’t satisfy you enough. So you need a man to show you how it’s done, isn’t it?”

You whimpered as he pushed his fingers inside you, gently stroking your walls and stretching your hole a little so it can accommodate his cock next. “Fuck… yes Bucky please,” you whined and threw your head back and moaned. His grip around your throat tightened a little more and he growled when he felt your walls clench around his fingers violently.

“Think you’re gonna be the best I’ve ever had, huh? Think you’re a big girl now, yeah? Fuck, you’re so precious, babygirl…” he murmured and sped up, his fingers slipping in and out of you so perfectly that you moaned wantonly. You were dripping all over his hand and possibly the counter as well, but neither of you cared.

You whined, unable to take the sweet torture any longer. You begged, with your words and your movements, desperately trying to grind against his hand. He chuckled, pulled his finger out of you, pushed you back onto the counter and got you to wrap your legs around his waist. Your grip on the counter grew tighter as you steadied yourself for his thrust.

Slowly, he filled you up; stretching you and had you whimpering under him. He chuckled at how responsive you were. He pushed himself into you rapidly. Bucky barely gave you time to adjust to his size before he started rocking in and out of you. You felt all of him, each vein, each stroke and every inch of his skin.

You felt his thick thighs press against your bare legs, flexing as he rocked in and out of you. He grunted as he gripped your hips tightly while he slammed his cock into your entrance repeatedly.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he spoke through gritted teeth, watching how you struggled to take his cock. “You needed a man to fuck you like a little slut, didn’t you babygirl? So fucking take it.” he sped up into you. His words fueled the spark in you. And your head fell back as you moaned at his actions and his words.

His thrusts were relentless. His mouth soon found yours and he nibbled on your bottom lip as you gasped. He was taking over all your senses and you were more than happy to let him. While he fucked you raw, his hand moved up to your throat again. His fingers wrapped around your throat and forced you to open your eyes and look into his. He fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“You just wanted to be filled with my cock, didn’t you? You wanted me to stretch you out,” His hand left your throat and toyed with your breasts through the thin material of your top. Your back arched in pleasure as his hands grabbed you wherever he could. “You wanted me to wreck this little cunt and own it, huh?” His body slammed into yours repeatedly, and you could feel a soreness forming in between your legs already. “Who’s fucking you this good, babygirl? Tell me who’s fucking this cunt so good.” He growled.

A tear escaped your eye as you tried so hard to make his words make sense in your head, but it was so hard when his body was making you lose your mind. “You are…” you mumbled, whining and feeling so full of his cock it was unbearably good.

“Your wet little cunt feels so good around me, babygirl…” he murmured, voice low and hazy in pleasure. He moaned and gasped as he felt your walls milking him and squeezing him just right. “So good…” You cried out as he kept rocking into you, speeding up with each thrust. “Who owns this little cunt, huh?”

“You do…”

Each time he slammed into you, your back crashed against the counter, achingly. But the pleasure his body brought you made up for that. You whimpered as his pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your body, making you cry out.

You felt like you were losing your mind. The pleasure was overwhelming; the feeling of his warm body pressing into yours and the feeling of his cock ramming in and out of you, stretching you out deliciously; you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Buck…” you moaned, your mind getting foggier and foggier with each passing second. He slammed in and out of you continuously, moaning and grunting in the process. Tears fell out of your eyes as the pleasure became too much to handle. But you still wanted more of him.

Your thoughts were a mess. You squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him harshly each time he filled you up. He growled and pushed his face into your neck, “Go on babygirl, cum for me.” He bit down on your shoulder and sped up even more. His thrust violent and animalistic. You moaned loudly and gushed out around his cock; gasping ad whimpering.

He moaned out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you as well, shooting his load at your walls. He didn’t pull out even after the two of you came. He just kept his throbbing cock carefully buried in you.

He relished your warmth and kissed you; growling and pushing his tongue into your open mouth like he owned it. You felt his cock twitching and pulsating against you as your body clenched around him still as you recovered from your previous orgasm.

He smirked as he pulled away. “Better clean up before your parents get home, babygirl.” He whispered and looked down at your disheveled state. So hot and bothered, and fucked out.

You could barely breathe right but you still gave him a lazy smirk. “Not too young for you now, am I?” you teased, knowing he enjoyed it just as much as you did. He groaned and hid his face into your neck again.

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Ajax: Birth of the Triple A Chimera

 Warning: cute fluffy creature death. I tried not to make it graphic. :/

             The fall splintered your body. It ruined your mind.

           Like Lucifer grasping at the heavens, wondering, But you said you loved me, your hand extended towards her, clinging to a snapping string, to your love, admiration, and respect. To the world how it once was. To a world how it should be.

           But she let you crumble into oblivion. That angel of Justice. Your Michael. The slick-fingered Azrael. She condemned you to be lost forever.

           Banishing herself into the bosom of a merciless moon queen, she left you there, on the cliff’s bottom, a scattered mosaic with nothing but Achilles’ curse keeping your meat suit together. Your eyes stare out like the exit of a well. Blank.

           Dead? No. I trembled to think you dead.

           Your injury is hidden behind a sheet of skin, but I can see your mind break. She betrayed your trust and betrayed your love. Your eyes gaze to the heavens as I cradle you, and you think you are lost.

           I won’t let you fall apart. If God doesn’t want us in his court, we shall build our court up to him and make him love us.

 --Jack, The day Thalia kicked Luke off a cliff

            “Can you babysit Ajax this Friday?”

         Pax wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping on Axel and Alabaster and probably wasn’t supposed to hear that question. He was supposed to be moving boxes from the front of the new laboratory’s atrium to the center of the laboratory. This is where he hoped he would be turned into a variety of rodents (or mustelids, as Alabaster had corrected him: otters, minks, weasels—and that one time Axel was turned into a wolverine—were all part of the mustelid family).

         Technically, Pax was still doing his job. He just slowed down when entering the central hub of the laboratory, where Alabaster and Axel were talking.

The two had dragged in a massive crate of magical artifacts from different colonies of Greece. Really, Axel had carried his side while Alabaster was cursing and swearing over a hand that had been smashed in the doorway. Axel pulled the box open with a crow bar. Alabaster withdrew a lion mask that he said had mislabeled from Numidia, grumbling that he’d need to fix the labels once they were ready to put things on shelves.

         Between grumbles and devious chin strokes—which Pax thought made Alabaster look quite esteemed—Alabaster nodded. “I can watch him. Same time as your normal matches?”

         Axel’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He set the crow bar atop a stack of unsorted wooden boxes with a thunk. He undid his hairtie, shook the mane of braids and locks out, and went to retying his hair. Recently, Axel had quarter-shaved one side when he found a wad of gum in his bed. Pax knew it was Mercedes. Would anyone else believe him? No. Pax got blamed.

         “Thirty minutes earlier. Jack and Luke want to add in a pre-show. Apparently, they’re going to be recorded and sent to Antaeus. Luke… thinks he’ll like them.” Axel puffed up his cheeks and popped them. The motion made the shadows under his eyes look like a pit of Cocoa Puffs.

         “Ajax mentioned that you haven’t been sleeping well,” Alabaster said. Although he held the mask up, like he was examining it with the aloof expertise of someone that Indian Jones would rob, his gaze narrowed at the older boy.

         Pax hoped Axel would listen to Alabaster.

         Instead, Axel glared at the door entrance, where Pax hovered with another box. Pax thought he’d been inconspicuous. He’d been wrong before though, like the time he tried sneaking into the girl’s bathroom with Matt. Their wigs and fake boobs had taken Pax a full ten minutes to assure they weren’t lopsided.

         “You little snitch,” Axel snapped.

         Pax gave him an innocent grin. “That’s literally my job.”

         Alabaster sighed. “Get out.”

         “You told me to carry in boxes,” Pax complained, setting his atop another with a huff. This box was, in fact, full of various bird feathers and did not warrant a huff, but he relied on Alabaster and Axel not to check the label.

         “Yes. To carry boxes in. Not to eavesdrop. Take a camou blanket and go find Sphinx.” Alabaster pointed to the door.

         Sphinx was Lou Ellen’s Mist cat, one that (Pax was disappointed to discover) could not sprout wings or a tiny human head. Alabaster often pretended Sphinx had escaped to give Lou Ellen and Pax busywork. Pax loved it. They could pretend they were hunting through the savannah. Shoddily-made safari hats included.

         Today, Alabaster gave him a meaningful look. After Axel’s last match, Alabaster had agreed to talk to Axel about the nightmares. If nothing else than to get Pax to shut up for thirty minutes. Pax agreed to fifteen and they had themselves a deal.

         Pax knew the real solution was to end Axel’s arena fights. Killing legionnaires for sport in front of a live audience? Good for super villains. Not good for secretly-squishy older brothers.

         Axel always had nightmares, but he could hardly get through a few hours of sleep without waking up screaming. The nights that he carved a new scar into his cheeks—one for each person he killed—were the worst. “They deserve to be remembered,” he had explained. His morbid collection of trinkets from the dead had grown too large for their room (and too much like a “ZOMBIE VENGENCE HERE” sign for the inevitable apcocolype). Scarification was Axel’s new method.

         Apparently, Luke wasn’t about letting Axel stop his fights; Jack said the ratings were too good.

         As such, Pax hoped Alabaster could magic the nightmares away. That seemed like a healthy way to repress trauma, right?

         “Ajax,” Alabaster said in his Don’t Make Me Remove Your Mouth voice.

         Pax scrambled to a box with some of his, Jack’s, and Axel’s band equipment. Prometheus—likely in attempt to gain Alabaster’s eternal hatred—had suggested the boys do band practice in the laboratory while it was being set up. The lab was out in the middle of nowhere and non-disruptive for anyone but Alabaster (a hermit who loved silence). Luke thought this was a grand idea.

         Pax’s fingertips found the cold, stretchy fabric of the camou blanket. They hadn’t figured out what to use it for, but Jack was sure some inspiration would hit while they were practicing.

         In the meantime, Pax tossed the blanket over his shoulders and slunk out the door.

         There were only a few rooms in the building. Boxes littered the front atrium and back entrance. His fingers twitched to think of all the magical ingredients mishmashed in the cylinders resting on walls and various, mysterious jugs. Supposedly, Alabaster had labeled everything. Unfortunately, Matthias was in charge of dropping off their stuff from the Princess Andromeda and had taken the courtesy to do artistic renderings over each label. To put it kindly, Matt was a genius of ideas, but would starve as an artist.

Alabaster’s new laboratory was a pioneer project—the first land-based operation center, functioning almost independent of the soon-to-be self-built Mount Othrys. Pax had ignored most of the politics involved in asking Kronos for the separate space (an area Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Lamia didn’t need to worry about blowing up the Princess Andromeda while experimenting with magic of mass destruction). All Pax cared about was why they weren’t wearing pioneer hats if this was a pioneer project. He had even offered to reenact dying from cholera a la Oregon Trail, though no one paid him much mind.

         This was super top secret. No one knew where it was. Not even Axel and Pax knew where they were going until that morning. Pax wondered what Matt knew about it and how Alabaster had managed to commandeer Axel and Pax during would-be band time. From what Pax had heard, Jack was conspiring to visit as a surprise (which meant he, and by extension, Flynn knew the location). If anyone could puppy-dog-eye information out of people, it was Jack. Pax aspired for such unassuming, devious cuteness.

         Pax crept over a Styrofoam box he could only assume contained dry ice and perishable ingredients where Matt had sloppily etched a Yeti. Or those spiky bits could be a crown of thorns for a stick-figure Jesus. Pax would have to talk to Matthias about blasphemy later.

         At the front, there were pillars on either side of the entrance, and a low wall between the two of them, forcing anyone advancing to pick one side or the other to enter. Alabaster explained this was in honor of Hecate and there were—in fact—three different paths to take. This led Pax and Axel to energetically vault over the low wall. It warmed Pax’s heart. Alabaster pretended he didn’t care about them, but, for whom else would he personally design an obstacle course?

         A tail flicked on the other side of the wall.

         Pax crawled up against it.

         The front had a concrete patio with no walkway, just long grass, scattered trees, and rolling hills. Soon, the children of Hecate would make runes around the place to ward off attention. They had already put some in place to make it so no one could stumble upon it unless they knew to look for the laboratory. Pax called it paranoid. Alabaster called it preparedness.

         The stone wall felt cold against Pax’s back as he flattened himself, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. This gave him a good view through the doorway—in case he could spot Axel or Alabaster for more eavesdropping—and a narrow view outside.

         There, curling around the end of the low wall, was Sphinx. Her black hair bristled. Pax assumed she had see him and was lazily coming his way for pets.

         However, her head wasn’t turned towards him. Her ears were alert, gaze surveying the tall grass.

         Pax opened his mouth to chirp at her.

         Something thudded into Sphinx’s neck, pinning her to the building. It happened so fast, Pax didn’t register that Sphinx was dead.

         He was accustomed to seeing violence against humans in his favorite gore movies, his father’s “entertainment nights,” and the few cage fights he’d seen Axel do. He was used to it against mythological creatures.

Seeing the thing protrude from her scruffy fur made Pax cover a scream.

         An arrow. It had been an arrow.

         “Bryce, what the fuck!?” someone hissed, only a few yards away. “It was a cat! You could have given away our position.”

         Pax froze, keeping his hands clamped over his mouth. Had he made a clapping sound when he covered his lips?

         “A witch’s familiar, Centurion. It might have alerted the leader of Hecate to our presence. It wasn’t a real cat.”

Not a real cat. Pax thought about the times Sphinx had chased him around the ship’s laboratory when he was various rodents, the times she’d snuck into the Pax brother’s room to curl up on Axel’s chest as a space heater, the way Lou Ellen giggled with glee to see her “baby girl” lose all her grace and elegance to the superiority of a laser pointer.

Her Mist body crumbled and collapsed, leaving the arrow pinned into the wall.

         Tear burned the rims of his eyes. The urge to sob reminded Pax that he hadn’t been breathing. He couldn’t tell if the world was spinning from a lack of air or from panic. A warning slithered in the back of his head, if you breathe, they’ll know you’re here.

         The camue blanket had fallen to his shoulders when he grabbed his mouth. Hands trembling, he clutched the edges.

This voice drifted from the other side of the low wall.

         They’re surrounding the building. Pax swallowed. Centurion. Romans.

         “You’re fucked up, Bryce,” a third mumbled. “We weren’t supposed to move until Cahoon cut the power.”

         If they cut the power, all the phone lines would go down. Unlike other demigods, Kronos’ men didn’t fear drawing monsters with technology; they welcomed new recruits. But, Iris wasn’t exactly cool with delivering messages for the opposing side. If they lost the power lines, they might not be able to get word out.

         Pax’s breath went from nonexistent to ragged.

         Alabaster had wanted privacy and quiet to set up his lab. Matthias was only supposed to do one drop off that morning. They didn’t know when Jack would show up.

         They were alone.

         “I can’t wait to mount a lion’s head on my wall,” the second guy, Bryce, muttered. His voice had a bouncy energy to it. Pax had heard of pre-battle jitters. These sounded too light.

         A Lion’s Head. Pax choked on a whine. They’re talking about Axel.

         “The lion’s head is mine,” a feminine voice stated softly.

         “Alright, Ari. Sheesh, we get it. You’re mad that that cannibal ate Julian after he killed him.”

         A tiny, detached part of Pax wanted to squeal a protest. Julian? Praetor Julian? The first person Axel had killed. He hadn’t eaten him—Axel fought to get Julian a proper funeral so he would remain uneaten.

         Everything felt like it was tunneling to the arrow on the wall. How much time had he wasted cowering here? His brain fumbled. This was it. This was his job. He was the recon guy. That’s what Mercedes had been—

         What would Mercedes do?

         Pax fumbled to his belt, to the mirror she had specially made for him. It was reflective, but the surface was dulled to minimize glare. He forced himself to take two regularish breaths, to not picture Axel’s head on a wall.

         “Damn it, Bryce. How did you get put on this mission? Just remember we’re not supposed to kill the younger kid with the two colored eyes. You heard command. He’s their spymaster’s assistant and a whole wealth of information.”

         They know a lot. They know too much.

         With as little noise as he could manage, Pax shifted the camue blanket up his arm, so he could hold the mirror with a covered hand. He leaned against the edge of the wall, tilting the mirror to see into the fields.

         Memo to self: request magical one-way camue blanket that he could see-through but others can’t.

         “He needs to be able to talk. Doesn’t mean he needs to be able to walk.”

         “I reiterate: you’re fucked up, Bryce.”

         “Quiet,” the feminine voice, the centurion, growled.

         There they were: not people, but ominous divots in the grass. They might have been wearing camue blankets too, though Pax doubted it. These weren’t professionals. Pax could tell from the loud chatter. He wondered if they’d been gathered in a hurry and hadn’t been able to vet out people like the cat-killer, Bryce.

         About thirty feet away, beyond the long grass, two people stood by the power line in construction workers outfits. From what Pax could see, something glinted under the bright orange reflectors: armor. The perfect, quick cover. Alabaster even said they’d been struggling with power and relying on backup generators. Would the Romans know to cut the backup generators?

         One thing was certain: there was no referee to yell at the Romans for bringing too many players onto the field. If Pax had to guess, the back door and windows would be covered too. He shivered to remember Mercedes’ fingers glide across his shoulder. Pax Two, I will give you a piece of candy if you can tell me how many doors and windows we passed in this building.

         He wished she were here, barking orders about the obvious things he had missed. But, then she’d be in danger too.

         If Pax made it out of this alive, he vowed to write a Hey Mr. ADHD song that promoted concentration and calm. There was a back exit, a front exit, and several windows in every room except the very center of the building, where Axel and Alabaster were unaware of their plight. Pax puffed up his cheeks, barely catching himself before he popped them. He didn’t know if there were any secret exits. That would be prime information.

         As he crept back through the atrium, he tilted his mirror out the window. Maybe thirty feet away, he caught sight of movement: snipers. The Romans had scouted the building. They would be watching every exit, and likely had attack forces at each entrance.

         Panic later. Move now.

         The Romans were far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear missteps past the atrium, but Pax focused on the memory of Mercedes’ bells strung at his neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, and feet. If one of the imaginary bells rang, the Romans might know. They might come in here, skewer Axel, shoot Alabaster in the head with an arrow, and drag Pax off, kicking and screaming.

         By the time he reached the central lab, sweat trickled off his face, threatening to make a plopping sound onto the floor. Axel and Alabaster’s voices echoed amongst the boxes. Although they spoke at a normal level, each word made Pax’s ears ring like a cannon.

         He couldn’t decipher what they said. The boxes, tubes, and wayward lab and band equipment blurred as he stepped up to Axel, his feet knowing where to go while his mind was numb with fear.

         His hand was on his brother’s arm. Axel and Alabaster froze, mid-talk, staring at Pax in worry. There must have been something wrong with his face.

         “There is a Roman hitsquad outside. I counted five in the front. There are likely five in the back and there are snipers at every window. They want to kill Axel and take me alive for interrogation. Unsure on their intentions with Witch Boy.”

         Once the words were out, it became real. It wasn’t his turn to keep it together. It was Axel’s, the planner.

         Which was good, because Pax felt himself tremble with panic.

  Thank you for reading! Stay tuned next week to see how well three teenage idiots panic over being surrounded. I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!

[madamhatter]

Sophie and Hollow for ship thing? :o

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you... | accepting

Who asks the other on dates:

Evermore vocal and initiative taker with the right personalities, Sophie is one that would always inquire and gauge Hollow’s interests if they’d like to go out. Her attentive nature is already accounting for what Hollow likes whenever they’re staying in her hometown and what they usually bring once they return from the forest. Though, a common theme is that whenever Sophie asks someone on a date, it isn’t necessarily a date in the romantic context -- as she’s pretty much like molasses to admit these things even when she’s painstakingly aware.

Hollow does ask out Sophie out, but in the case, it’s more spur of the moment because they aren’t too focused on that. It’ll usually be whenever Sophie is cooing and inquiring about things that Hollow does, and they take it as an ‘oh! she must be interested’ and offers the proposal. They also follow under the same umbrella of ‘dates aren’t inherently romantic’ like Sophie, but they also have different forms of showing affection, and going on outings usually isn’t seen as one.

Who is the bigger cuddler:

How in the world would one be able to successfully cuddle a demi-god of over 9ft? Sophie has that answer because she will do it and has no complaints about it. However, the way they join together isn’t like a normal ‘couple,’ as you can imagine. It’s usually just Sophie leaning against Hollow’s side, wrapping her arms around their side (careful for about the scars as she doesn’t want them to be uncomfortable).

Hollow is receptive at best when Sophie gives him a vocal head’s up as they’re still remarkably jumpy about touches (to a higher degree than Sophie). Accounting for how drowsy the seamstress would get, trying to refuse herself to sleep until she finally crashes after several days, Hollow tends to extend their cloak and wraps Sophie in it too.

As for initiating touch, Hollow is much more careful when they use their hands and arms. Which would be elaborated on in the next point.

Who initiates holding hands more often:

Sophie is the one to reach out and allows her palm to press against the nyx palm of Hollow’s comparing hand sizes and she might cheekily give their hand a squeeze. Though, she isn’t one that’ll always hold their hand, especially considering that Hollow would prefer open palms to equip their Needle if anything were to happen. After all, always keeping on the alert and able to fight was a part of how they were raised as they were destined to be the savior -- despite it not being in a way one would normally think it to be.

Hollow, however, initiates their own form of ‘hand-holding’ or quick forms of PDA through the fact they push and press their forehead against Sophie’s. More clicking, whistling, and humming would be emitted from them as they nestle against her as she’s unable to stop blushing, quiet tongue-tied at how much more intimate this tends to be. There is much more emphasis in face touching when it comes to Hollow and Sophie eats it up.

Who remembers anniversaries:

Both! It’s usually celebrated early into the morning because they both, admittedly, have a weird sleeping schedule and tend to be closer together once it’s night time and they’re not distracted. Sophie has made it a habit to count down to the damn hour and once it hits 12:00 AM, she will approach Hollow and shower them with adoration and reminding them ‘happy anniversary.’

In Hollow’s case, it has taken several years for them to realize their relationship with Sophie has developed into a romantic sense. So, while they remember the date recently, it was something that surprised them during the beginning and it’s still something to get used to. Though, they will never be empty-handed and unprepared for the day -- it’ll just being something that’ll take some hours to prep.

Who is more possessive:

Now, this relationship wouldn’t really ever get into the topics of jealousy and possessiveness, given Hollow’s general nature and how Sophie’s own jealousy doesn’t always come out and reveal its ugly colors. I would say neither.

Who gets more jealous:

Like the previous answer, I don’t see the dynamic exploring that much in jealousy and possessiveness. However, I will mark this as Sophie’s, given her self-deprecation and low views on herself. It is something that Hollow would learn after some time, as to how she tends to push away and keep to herself. 

Though, it isn’t aimed towards them, but it is own her own issues with understanding that her own jealousy is stemmed from feeling useless and, if she can’t provide, what’s the point of keeping her around. Hollow is remarkably sympathetic in this regard, when Sophie opens up about it, because their mutual trauma as eldest siblings, though VASTLY different in conditions, led to some suprising similarities in what they deal with about their self-perception (among other things). 

Who is more protective:

Both! Hollow is a god damn knight and will not hesitate to throw hands with anyone. Hell, there’s a point Sophie would have to plead with Hollow not to go so carelessly into fighting -- as they already do it without a problem and not needing a reason. Though, their protiectiveness is more of their presence available and them, being admittedly a outright terrifying cryptid demi-god prince, which would discourage anyone from bothering/targeting Sophie. Though, oh boy, I don’t think Hollow would think twice if someone does try to harm Sophie because hey, they got a sword, and the person tried to get violent, so let’s give him what they wanted- 

Sophie, meanwhile, is the outspoken one for Hollow’s behalf and it can get very embarrassing for the young knight. She would refuse to speak poorly about them and will not hesitate to reveal her previous affinity for dirty fighting. She will always see the better of her partner and will be adamant not to move from protecting them. 

Who is more likely to cheat:

Neither! It’s far too out of the character, especially considering their shared trait of fidelity. Hollow already isn’t interested or considering any relationships since it takes them a whiel to realize it. Sophie is way too emotionally taken in Hollow and would really ever consider someone else.

Who initiates sexy times the most:

Neither as Hollow isn’t interested in any sexual contact and it’s something Sophie learns shortly and will always respect.

Who dislikes PDA the most:

Both, but not for the usual reasons. They have to work through how they respond to touches and it’s a slow process. Though, Hollow is much of one who’ll be happy to receive, rather than give -- which works out for Sophie when she works on herself by being more affectionate in public. If anything, it’s not all about the displays and being physical, it’s more like being vocal in a springtime song of young love -- full of whistles and chirps and giggles. 

Who kills the spider:

Sophie wouldn’t be opposed to killing spiders, but Hollow tells her that she shouldn’t worry about it. So, neither.

Who asks the other to marry them:

Relationships aren’t so typical when you’re a demi-god in love with a mortal, who you know won’t last as long as you, but you know the love will. It isn’t a track that Hollow ever considered, even if Sophie admits it time and again about her own ‘simple’ and ‘silly’ dreams were to have a family, be it with or without a partner. It made the knight ponder the longer they stay with her, usually thoughtful of her actions and words, especially when she looks after people. 

Marriage wasn’t something that’d fit -- it wasn’t as simple as fitting a ring unto someone’s finger and exchange vows. But, it was Hollow who did propose to Sophie in their own unique way, which went beyond them pledging themselves to never leave her-- something they knew she terribly feared and they terribly realized would happen. 

But, Hollow proposes on a knee, like they remembered as they did when they were finally knighted. It was everlasting fidelity as long as she would live. She’d gently hold his hollowed mask against her chest, hugging him quietly, crying at the implications of her mortality, but even happier to know they were together.

Who buys the other flowers or gifts:

Neither! They both prefer making eachother gifts and it’s usually involving flowers and something Hollow would find in their travels. Sophie prefers focusing on seamstressing by fixing Hollow’s cloak and fitting hats on them around the time it got cold -- even if they’re not prone to getting cold. 

Who would bring up possibly having kids:

Sophie! Though, as their both eldest children, they have their hands full with their siblings. It would be more of her asking Hollow if they ever thought of having an apprentice or adopting.

Who is more nervous to meet the parents:

Sophie would be, if Hollow makes here aware of the fact that one their parents (White Lady) is still alive. There is quite a bit of context and plot needing to be developed if Sophie ever does go to Hallownest with Hollow. God, how would you go up to your parent and explain that you’re now courting a squishy little human.

Hollow, already, has met Sophie’s stepmother and her sisters by the fact Sophie gave them shelter at her home. They are not as confident, per say, but they don’t reveal just how nervous they can be. They get on well with Sophie’s sisters, more so Martha absolutely adores hearing the stories from Hollow that Sophie translates, while Lettie them remarkably intriguing, especially with what they aren’t (as in non-humans are pretty rare in these parts). 

Once romantic feelings are involved, or Hollow realizes their own, they’re more nervous about Sophie revealing that to her stepmother. Or, in some cases, they’re more worried about the long-term that they’re introduced, but one day, they’ll...they’ll need to leave. 

Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry:

Neither. I don’t see them being them getting so angry with another that one is sentenced to the couch or needs to sleep apart. Though, there can be a flavor of mistrust and confusion when understanding the other and how little they may reveal about themselves. They don’t do it to hurt the other, but it is something that they need to work on independently as people. There might be times, however, that they may need to separate and they work away to work on their problems alone. 

Who tries to make up first after arguments:

Hollow. They spent far too many years chained up and harboring the Radiance inside of them to let any other moment go to waste. If they ever did fall into an argument, it would be a long silence before Hollow gently reaches out and checks on Sophie -- which shortly dissolves the negative emotions. 

Who tells the other they love them more often:

Both. Never a question about it because Hollow and Sophie are so soft for another :’)

[tiny-smallest]

the sun’ll come out tomorrow

Rating: G Characters: Tallest Mikyuki, Dib, Membrane Warnings: none Description: Mikyuki takes her charge on a little field trip, reflecting about her current situation along the way. On the way back, something catches the toddler’s eye…

Also on AO3!

———

She really didn’t like the rain. Being the empress of an entire planet somewhat spoiled her, she’d admit. The blue eyed Irken squinted up at the sky from her seat at the window, scowling at the drops of water falling from the sky. Back at her old position as Tallest, should such an offending substance threaten her from a planet’s skies, she would have no less than a dozen Irkens at her side immediately with a number of things that could be used to ward off the downpour, and at least one would offer to atomize the planet for her.

She’d refuse, of course, but it was the offer that counted.

All right, in light of that, maybe she’s a lot spoiled. Even so, she can’t understand what anomalies this planet must produce so that acid falling from the sky would be a frequent occurrence. Or, perhaps even more unsettling, that its inhabitants—sentient and nonsentient—would be completely immune to its effects. Professor Membrane had nearly given her a heart attack the first time she’d seen it rain and he’d stepped outside into it; she was so sure based on that kitchen incident with the sink (that she would be taking to her death thank you very much) that he was going to melt. She had to admit she was jealous over his immunity to the water’s effects after she’d stopped fuming over him scaring her half to death. It didn’t look like she would be leaving this planet anytime soon. Her ship was far too wrecked; you could barely even tell it was a ship at some point. She’d be surprised she survived it, if not for the fact that she was a Tallest. Genes this good, she figured, gets one out of a lot of things.  

Apparently it even helped you survive a planet trying to punch you in the face with its gravity. Whatever. Miyuki was alive, that was the important thing. She was alive, and she had found an ally. She was forced to help him develop a smeet of his species so that she’d have an ally, but she had an ally.  

It’s better than nothing, and he was perfectly reasonable about it, and continued to be. The fact that she could and should skewer him should he become unreasonable was irrelevant and she refused to think on it anymore. Right now, she should probably be thinking more about the small creature tugging at her leg. Miyuki’s gaze turned from the wretched weather of this awful planet to the doe eyed toddler pulling on her skirt. She was silent for a moment; he was too short to see without looking up that he has successfully gotten her attention, and he had not looked up because he was too interested in the metal plating of the skirt. He poked at it with a tiny finger, scratching at it with the pitiful excuse that humans had for claws.  

It’s when he went to lick it that she cleared her throat and he, smart enough even at this stage of human development to recognize the sound for what it is, moved his eyes from the spot he’d selected for tasting to her face, tongue still out. “I am not food.” He squeaked. “If you are hungry, I will make something.” He tilted his head to the side. She sighed. “What is it that you want, Dilbert?” As an answer, he pointed to the digital clock in the cable box by the television. She raises an antenna in surprise. Membrane had said that thanks to his Irken genes Dilbert would evolve much, much faster than the average human smeet, but she had not expected a creature whose vocabulary was currently limited to “I,” “bottle,” “binkie,” and “dad” (she will ignore for the moment, as always, that the total words in his vocabulary are actually five) to be able to recognize the time, much less correlate the time with a specific event. Like the event that is supposed to be happening now but that Miyuki was entirely reluctant to do because of rain. “Dilbert, I think we will forgo our walk today.” A plaintive wail sent both antennae back. “No, it is raining. I do not like rain. It… hurts me. We will not venture out in it. Stop yelling.” The wailing continued. Blasted human smeet. Regular smeets could be irritating but at least they didn’t cry. They couldn’t. Human smeets, though, very much could and dear Irk please shut up.

Maybe agreeing to help his father make an heir was a mistake.

(Even as she thought it, something within her quailed at it.) Membrane was not here to help, Miyuki reflected with a frown. He was out for the day, at his laboratory, working on a new sort of teleportation technology that intrigued her and would very much like to pick apart sometime. Right now it was just her and the smeet. She would have to do something quickly if she wanted to keep herself from doing something she’d regret-

Wait, there was noise absent. Her eyes flicked from the crying child on the floor to the window. The patter of the rain was what had been missing for the past two minutes, and she had failed to realize it because of her focus on the much louder, much more annoying of the two sounds. Well then. The rain was gone but there would still be puddles. She scowled again, ready to reaffirm that she would not go outside today, but it turned into a grimace. 

No, she didn’t want to go outside today. But the human smeet needed sunshine and fresh air to grow properly—part of the requirements brought on by his human heritage—and now that it wasn’t actively raining, it would be prudent to give him what he needs.

Especially because it would make him shut up. “Fine, you win.” His sobs faltered and slow down some, and Miyuki shook her head, wagging a finger at him. “But only because it stopped raining. Wait here; I will go get ready.” She took swift strides to the doorway, and he followed on his clumsy little legs like the insolent creature he was. Typical. Something bubbled over in her chest and she let out a low laugh, shaking her head as she looked around the little bedroom that was hers now, so much smaller than her quarters at home. 

She, the Tallest, ruler of an entire planet, the greatest planet of the known universe, was playing smeetsitter to a hybrid that did not belong in existence, that was probably breaking about thirty Irken laws simply by being, and that could never and would never be accepted by either race should anyone learn what he truly was. All because she crash landed in the middle of universal nowhere and had no other way to return home but to suck up to the single creature on all of this backwards “Earth” planet that could help her so that he’d help her fix her ship.  

“I wonder,” she said to the toddler as she reached into her dresser for some Earthling clothing, “if someday you will also grow up to manufacture something that will try to eat me. I’ve had that experience once; I’m not…” Her throat tightened slightly  “… Keen on reliving it.”

His face remained in her head, however much it hurt that it did. Those big, eager eyes, the color of Vortian (and also, apparently, Earthen, which was just a delightful discovery) raspberries. That giant smile. Chirping voice that could turn to loud crowing at the drop of a hat. So very, pitifully small for an Irken, the smallest Irken on record; he should have died years ago when he was first hatched, or in training, but he didn’t. So enthusiastic and eager to please, so ready to prove himself, that he did everything and asked questions never.

The entire point of his job in weapons manufacturing was to keep him out of trouble, out of harm’s way. Far from a drone service, but as close to an Invader as possible. And he still found some way to screw it up, all in the name of…

“It’s for you, my Tallest! This is just a prototype, the real one will be much more deadly, much more worthy of being used by the Irken Armada! But, it, eh, felt like a waste to just throw it out, and it’s soft and squishy, and you like soft and squishy things, and it nuzzles and makes little chirpy happy noises, so I thought you’d like to keep it!”

Making her happy.

She looked over to Dilbert, now sitting on the floor, amusing himself by drawing patterns in the carpet with his little, round fingers.

He doodled when he was bored, too. 

Ugh. She had to stop torturing herself like this. Would he even be alive when she got back?

He survived this far. The brutal training, the initial activation, despite being too small… The Control Brains keep missing him entirely, even after talking with him directly…

Yes but he also has a penchant for disaster, and you’re no longer there…

Her insides squirmed. Dilbert was squirming. She shoved the thoughts from her mind and retreated into the bathroom with her things. A few minutes later she pushed the door open again, picking with distaste at the cloth and at the necklace around her throat. A simple blouse and matching skirt would ensure she blended in easily, and the jewelry added an extra touch of human normalcy, but she was still not entirely sure she liked wearing them. The clothes felt too light on her body, too loose. Still, dealing with clothing that felt oddly was much better than, say, being captured and dissected. Or being forced to flee for her life. She would put up with it.

Dilbert, mercifully still quiet, scrambled to join her at her side, taking hold of her skirt with one tiny hand. She scooped him into her arms, wincing at the human scent she still wasn’t used to, before carrying him from the room. He squirmed in her arms, cooing quietly, and didn’t resist when she set him down in his stroller. Kneeling beside him, she fastened him carefully into place and reached up to her necklace, pressing a button. 

The heat the hologram disguise generates tingled unpleasantly along her skin, but it protected her. At least in that way it was more useful than the clothes. And it was blue, too. 

She opened the front door and flinched when a blast of wind greeted her. Dilbert squinted his eyes at the sunlight peeping through the clouds, but showed no visible signs of distress, thanks to his father’s efforts to get the boy outside frequently.

She, however, was never going to get used to this ‘weather’ thing. Sure, sunny days she can manage, but wind tugged at her antennae and scattered scents! How was she supposed to get a read on her surroundings if she couldn’t pinpoint where anything was coming from? Then there was rain- rain was an abomination that doesn’t deserve to exist. Fog stung her face and whatever else wasn’t covered, and she didn’t like the sound of this ‘snow’ business. Or ‘heatwave.’  Apparently the snow thing would be coming soon, too. Ridiculous planet.

The air smelled sharp and the wind chilled her slightly. Maybe she should give up on this after all… No, no, think rationally. Did she have anything to deal with this? She did have a sweater, but she doesn’t like the feel of it- wait, yes she does! The coat! How did she forget about the coat!? It was only her favorite piece of clothing on this ball of dirt that calls itself a planet! Miyuki wheeled the child inside and, ignoring his cries of protest, left the living room to dart into her bedroom and fetch the black trench coat Membrane had purchased for occasions such as these. She grabbed the coat from the closet and pulled it on as she left the room, returning to the stroller and pushing it out the door. A quick pause to lock the door behind her. Not that she needed to with the intense amount of security, but might as well. And they were off. Finally She pulled the collar up around her mouth, using her other hand to steer the stroller around a puddle while hissing her hatred at the liquid. The sky was clearing, so more rain was highly unlikely, but even just the presence of puddles made her skin crawl. Stupid, Miyuki knows this; she was wearing boots and no water can get in. But still, who willing stepped in collections of acid even with protective gear? It took a little longer to reach the park and her steering had to get really creative occasionally, but eventually they left the sodden sidewalk behind for… soggy grass, mud, paths that are pocketed with more accursed puddles, and a playground that’s completely unusable due to how soaked it is. No, don’t shake a fist at the sky; you’ll look insane. Letting out a deep breath instead, she rolled the carriage back and forth slightly as her eyes closed, letting out a low hum. Well, the park wasn’t an option today. Was there anywhere else to take him where the little hybrid could spend at least an hour outdoors without too much water?

… Not… really.  The Irken groaned. Fine. Back they go.   Stupid Earth weather. With a huff she turns the wheels and starts pushing on the stroller. Dilbert was whining again, little arms reaching back towards the playground as he twisted in his seat, and her antennae shift back, a growl rising in her throat. If he was so smart, why couldn’t he see the water on the playground and recognize that it would be unwise to let him run about on such a slippery surface? “Be quiet,” she eventually snapped. He responded with actual tears, and her guts twisted slightly. Just great. Some children flew by on skateboards, bicycles, and scooters, nearly splashing her and the Dilbert in the process. She hissed before she could stop herself and yanked her body and the stroller back to avoid them, and just in time; one of the girls clipped the stroller with her scooter and almost fell off, having to hop off before the primitive devise could throw her from it, run awkwardly beside it, and then leap back on. Thankfully the water missed Miyuki, as the girl was going too slowly by the time she went through the puddle to spray it very far.

“Watch where you’re going, smee- CHILD!” Human vocabulary was strange and still refused to roll off the tongue with any ease. “Next time I swear I will take that toy from you and wrap it around your skinny little throat!” It’s was late; they were too far for their inferior human ears to hear her. Damn them to the deepest depths of the farthest black hole. Snarling, the Irken carefully righted the stroller, which she had pulled back in such a way that, had it not been for the straps, would have dumped its precious cargo onto the concrete. Dilbert was whimpering, little hiccups leaking out with big, fat tears. Blast it all. “Shhh, it’s alright.” Well, her tone wasn’t sharp, at least. “They are gone now, and should they return I will make them very sorry they did.” She watched as he scrubbed his knuckles into his eyes, chewing on her tongue. Perhaps if she had some candy, that might work, but she didn’t think to grab any before leaving the house. Which was a stupid move, she reflected, since the human smeet was the most accident prone person she’s known since him and candy was usually a quick fix anytime Dilbert gets a bump or scrape. Her antenna flicked. He was quiet. Why? Quickly she glanced down; he was staring at something. Blue eyes rose, and found his were locked onto a tiny black trench coat a mannequin in the shop window was dressed in. His little mouth was hanging open like he just discovered the answer to the meaning of life. “… Well then.  We’ve lingered here long enough.” Her hands returned to the stroller’s handles, and he cried out.  

“Want!” Of course he’d add another word to his vocabulary right now. It’s not like she was eager to leave or anything. Miyuki raised a hand to her face to place her fingers against her forehead, then moved them to her temple. Well, he’d seen it and he’d pitch a fit if she tried to leave without it. It’s small, right? It can’t cost too much, and I do have monies on me. It wouldn’t take long, either… “Fine. Let’s go see it.” She wheeled the carriage inside. Dilbert insisted on having that exact trench coat, and it was a hassle to convince the store clerk to take the coat off the mannequin, but Miyuki was nothing if not persuasive, and eventually she conceded and took it down for them. Then it was off to the tiny dressing room in the back, where Dilbert refused to allow her to accompany him into the room to help him into the coat. 

The toddler sure was a willful one, and Miyuki can’t help but wonder if this was a normal thing in human smeets, and if she should be proud or annoyed. She settled for a mix of both, the former somewhat begrudgingly. “Tah-dah!” She glanced up from her seat to see the tiny human-Irken hybrid in front of her more or less drowning in a coat made for someone twice his height. His eyes were closed and his smile was huge, showing off all his strange human teeth, and he had his hands on his hips, sleeves falling far past them. The sight was so weird and so amusing she couldn’t help but smile a bit. “You look stunning.” He beamed brighter. “Come, we should be leaving.” She went to remove the coat and he frowned, pulling back and hugging himself to keep the coat locked in place, making grumbling noises. She shook her head and took hold of his arm in a loose grip, carefully pulling him along with her until he moved his hand to hold hers, as she looked for the clerk. The woman allowed them to buy the trench coat—two hundred monies is ridiculous for such a tiny piece of clothing and Miyuki wished she could just steal the thing, but that would be a terrible idea—and they returned home, finally. Dilbert refused to take the coat off, and she allowed him to leave it on while she got supper together for the three of them.  

A Tallest, cooking. Really, now the universe had seen everything. Or would, if this hick planet was near anything resembling the civilized universe.

Membrane returned home, and laughed at the sight of his son, ruffling the little one’s hair. “That’s a great look for you, son!  What gave you the idea?” Neither of them expected an answer, but he surprised them. The tiny boy flashed Miyuki a giant smile and pointed to her. “Just like Mommy!” She almost dropped the plate she was carrying to the table. “… Son?” Membrane does not look nearly as shellshocked as his Irken companion; he’s merely confused. “… The coat.” Miykui’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh, he means the coat you bought for me in case of cooler weather; I’ve been wearing it a lot for the past few weeks but not the past few days… he must have remembered me wearing it frequently…” Dilbert nods. He looked so pleased with himself. “Like Mommy!” “Yes, it’s good to be like your mother.” Membrane patted his head before carefully peeling the coat off and setting the fussing boy in his high chair. “Now now, take it easy,” he cut in above Dilbert’s protests. “You can have it back when you’re all done with dinner.” They started supper. Miyuki for a few minutes stared silently at the meal. Just like Mommy. The way his face lit up when he said that… Maybe she was more ready for that other word in his vocabulary than she thought she was. Mommy. It wasn’t not such a bad word, really. The twitch of her lips went unnoticed as she began to eat.

[geenalovesthelittlethings]

I bet breakfast at the house when the twins are eating baby food is just an adorable hot mess. Darcy with pancake syrup just about everywhere whining to Harry and the missus that she’s sticky and then Harry and the missus trying to multi task with making food and keep the twins happy but in reality they have food absolutely everywhere and they’re just giggling at everything. Harry making airplane noises to gain their attention, absolutely adorable.

MY HEART. I love this so much. There’s something that makes my heart so happy thinking about this. 

Everyone’s still in their pajamas, the house is just waking up. It’s early enough that the light outside is still muted. Harry walks over to the door leading out onto the patio to let Alfie back in, and he scampers off towards the living room. He takes a minute to feed Alfie his own breakfast, ducking into the pantry where the big storage bin of dog food is before turning his attention back to the human breakfast. 

He mixes a couple handfuls of blueberries into his pancake batter, the soft sound of cartoons and Darcy and the boys giggling from the living room in the background, and nurses a sip of coffee from his cup. Lowering the heat on the skillet, he grabs the missus’ coffee cup from underneath the espresso machine, mixing in the milk that’s just finished frothing from beside it and heading towards the living room. 

Darcy is heavily engrossed in the Disney film that’s playing in front of her. Slumped down in a little heap in the middle of the living room floor with a blanket as a cape pulled up around her shoulders. The missus is tucked into the corner of the sofa, nursing Finn while Jude is snuggled against her side, lulled by her hand rubbing up and down along his back. 

“Looks like someone couldn’t wait for breakfast,” Harry notes with a grin. 

“Finny’s having elevenses,” the missus says with a short laugh which earns a chuckle from Harry too. 

“Here you go, baby,” Harry says, setting the mug down on the end table next to her and dropping a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Mm, thank you.” She looks up to Harry. “Do you want help?”  

“No, no, I’ve got it.” He smooths his fingers across Jude’s forehead and across his soft dusting of fuzzy hair and leaning down to kiss his cheek. Pausing, as he turns back in the direction of the kitchen to look back over his little family, smiling at how much he loves them and how he’s so thankful this is life. 

Once the pancakes are done, everyone’s assembled around the table. Jude and Finn are munching on half a banana each, happily squishing it between their hands and squealing with delight while the missus sprinkles little cubes of blueberry pancake in front of them. 

Alfie wiggles his way in between the two Tripp Trapps, patiently awaiting the inevitable goodies that will fall from above. 

“Is that good?” the missus coos, watching as Finn grabs at a piece of pancake with his chubby fingers and experimentally plucks it into his mouth. It laps against his tongue for a moment, threatening to tumble off his lower lip, before he decides that it’s a keeper and gums it with vigor. 

Jude, not happy with this distribution of attention, babbles in his momma’s direction, holding out his slobbery chunk of banana towards her. 

“I see you, mister,” she croons, getting a gummy smile in return. “Is that so good too?” Jude giggles before continuing to contently gnaw on his breakfast.  

“Darcy Anne, do you want banana or strawberries, lovey?” Harry calls, glancing over his shoulder.

“Strawberries, please!” Darcy announces, haphazardly setting down her milk cup. 

“Strawberries, please!” Harry repeats, reaching into the colander full of freshly washed berries in the sink and plucking out a few before chopping them up and setting about cutting her pancakes into quarters as she always requests. “Blueberry pancakes and a side of strawberries for you, missus,” he singsongs as he rounds the corner and sets the plate down in front of her, kissing the top of her head as he does. 

“Thank you!” she chirps. 

“You’re welcome.” He scoots her in and sets down a little creamer cup of syrup. “There you go.” He does one final check that everything’s on the table before fixing a plate for himself and the missus, adding some of the chopped fruit on top and a soft egg on the side for each of them. 

“Thank you, mister,” she hums, leaning over to kiss him before he can get to his end of the table. 

“You’re welcome, baby.” He plops himself down in his chair, slicing into two cakes and watching the steam swirl from between them.  

The rest of breakfast is spent making sure babies are fed, milk isn’t tipped over, that not too much food is ending up in Alfie’s mouth, wiping sticky fingers, sticky mouths, sticky cheeks. Finn tries to feed Harry a bite of his slobbered on banana that’s somehow made it into his hair. Jude is devouring every morsel of pancake in front of him and shrieking joyously every time one falls off the table to Alfie and he gobbles it up, while Finn is a little more delicate, carefully choosing his next bites while simultaneously belly laughing at the raspberries him and Harry are doing back and forth to each other. 

By the end of it, the table is spattered with milk droplets and bits of gummy pancake and mushy banana and strawberry juice. Jude and Finn’s cheeks are tinged purple with blueberry juice and Darcy is sticky what seems like head to toe.

“I’m all sticky, Daddy!” Darcy complains, squirming when he swipes a damp paper towel over her lips and cheeks. 

“I know! It’s very impressive,” Harry notes. “Were they good? Did Daddy do a good job?” 

She looks up at him those big, bright eyes of hers and gives him a toothy grin. “Yeah!” 

“Good!” He kisses her forehead. “Okay, go wash hands, please.” She climbs off her chair carefully and scampers down the hall, as Harry moves on to the boys. “Did you enjoy your breakfast too, Finny?” he coos, reaching for the damp towels the missus sets down beside him as she finishes clearing up the table. “I think you did.” Judging by the blueberry juice stains across their cheeks, he’d say his pancakes were very well received. Finn squeals, reaching out to pat Harry’s cheek. “Oh, thank you.” He lets him wipe off his cheeks and hands, freeing them of sticky juice and crumbs, only squirming a little. He kisses his littlest son’s squishy cheek before moving on to his brother who is a little less impressed by the clean up efforts. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry says as Jude fusses and tries to squirm away when Harry goes to clean off his cheeks. He reaches towards Harry who playfully growls and pretends to munch of each of his hands as he cleans them off, making Jude howl with delight, so  all must be forgiven, and Harry leans in to give his biggest boy a kiss too. 

Everyone piles back into the living room to snuggle, Harry giving an exaggerated grunt as he hefts a baby up into each arm to carry them through. Everyone snuggles in, three very full kiddos with happy bellies, two sleepy babies. The missus curls up against Harry’s side, Darcy on his other, burrowing down under the cozy depths of a blanket and a baby each in their laps, already fighting sleep. Everything is slow and soft, the morning still young. 

The missus looks over to Harry and they share a little smile, as if to say, “Yeah, this is really good, I love this,” before she leans over, careful of the baby snuggles into her, and kisses him, sweet and quick. 

“Love you, Snuggs,” he murmurs when she pulls away, offering his free palm, overturned. 

She slots their fingers together, giving a squeeze. “Love you too, Green Eyes.” 

xx.

[deeafrotailmisstress]

Welcome to Requisitions

((An RP with @wethatkindoforc where Jazz got hired by Fantastic Enterprises!  🎊 So this is a brief short of how it went down and how Jeremy ditched because how dare he get an assistant amiright guys.)) Hobbson + Jeremy Murdoch belong to @wethatkindoforc Jazz belongs to moi

Located within a rather inconspicuous entrance on the apartment grounds of Emma’s Valley, at first glance the foyer for the Requisitions Department lends little more to first impressions than being a dim basement with a mash of boxes, books, and other clutter lining the walls. The air is cool, but circulating. Jazz awkwardly pulled at the collar on her shirt, grumbling as she shuffled down the cramped corridor. She would have prefered to wear her comfy ketchup-stained jumper, but Olka chastised her into wearing her best shirt. Behind the desk, a spindly Grumpel with pale, nigh-translucent skin sat writing furiously within a notebook. He looked up as Jazz entered.

“Oh! Hello there!” he greeted with a wide smile. “You wouldn’t happen to be Miss Abernale, would you?”

At the usage of her real name, Jazz’s smile looked forced as she walked up and awkwardly chuckled, “Yep da’z...da’z me. Uh...you da fella I’m meetin’ for gettin’ the job?”

Hobbs laughed - a light, almost giddy sort of sound. “I am Hobbson, yes. But everyone around here calls me Hobbs,” He shut his notebook, and scooted his chair out so he could come around the desk. Jazz blinked and almost tripped over her own feet as she hurriedly walked back to make way for the Grumpel. She had never conversed with one before so she didn’t expect them to be so...welcoming.

He held out a hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’re very excited to have some fresh eyes in the department. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? A few barrels of Malangorian coffee? It was outlawed back in 1632, you know. Very hard to get a hold of.” He winked.

Jazz’s smile became more genuine as she shook his hand, “Hobbs? Da’z a cool name dude. Da name’s Jazz but ya already knew dat. And uh...it’s just Jazz. Please.” She chuckled nervously but instead of letting go she squeezed his hand one more time and stared intriguingly with an excited smile, “Sorreh, I ain’ never shook hands with a Grumpels befo’. Y’all got strawberry milk?”

Hobb’s hand was cool to the touch - almost...squishy, really, though it leaves no residue on Jazz’s hand as they part. Her question only seemed to delight him more. “You know! We’ve never actually had a request for that before! But if that is your beverage of choice we would be happy to keep it on hand. You will learn there is very little that Requisitions can get a hold of.”

“T’anks dude, I ain’t much of a booz girl.” The curly-haired girl grinned as she laughed along with him.

He gestured to a small table in the corner of the room. It too was stacked with books, something he seemed to only just remember as the Grumpel looked at it. “Oh, pardon me. It’s always a bit of a mess around here. But do - come sit. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

Jazz’s nerves rose again as Hobbs asked her to sit down. Having never been in a job interview...questioning...thing, in addition to this Grumpel knowing her real name, it was the first time she had felt unsettled in ages. “Before I do dat mister, mind if I ask you a question first?” Jazz sat down and rubbed her knees before asking bluntly, “How comes y’all know my real name?”

Hobbs tilted his head slightly, all six of his little antennae bending with the motion. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and easily sat down across from her. “Those who work for Fantastic Enterprises come from all walks of life, Jazz,” He explained. “Mr. Fantastic adopts a ‘clean slate’ policy to everyone who joins on - but that doesn’t mean we aren’t very thorough about our background checks.”

The little human patted a rhythm on her knees as she nodded, pursing her lips with a pop. “Ah. Soo I don’ gotta explain to y’all the shit-storm that is my family den.” Jazz chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of her neck while not looking anywhere near Hobbs.

Finally she sighed and clapped her hands together with a closed smile, “A’ight, no bullshittin’ or nothin’, I’mma be really real wid ya Hobberooo since I figure y’all are gonna find out about d’is sooner or later.” Without warning, she randomly lifted up the hem of her shirt to reveal a very nasty scar mark on the left side of her torso, the logo unmistakeable. “Ya know what dis shit is right.”

Hobb’s normally placid face melted with concern. “Oh - oh yes, I do,” his hand came up, almost as though to reach out and touch the mark - but he stopped himself. “I gather you did not leave with their blessing?”

“HAH. Nope.” Jazz snorted derisively. She pulled down her shirt with a dry smirk as she continued, “Ya know dat bigass slave breakout ‘round last year? Dat was Olka who was leadin’ it, and how me an’ da others escaped.” She was sure this probably wasn’t increasing her chances of getting hired, but continued regardless, “An’ I gotta tell ya Hobbs, dey ain’ stopping. I don’t know why but, da last fella sent by dem says dey want Jazz Olka an’ Moki all alive still. So...I was kinda hopin’ dat y’all be offerin’ protection from dat kinda thing?” Jazz glanced up hopefully.

The kind smile returned to Hobb’s features. “Miss J- Jazz. Just Jazz. You could be in no safer space. As I said before, we come from all paths here. Many still hide from their demons. I myself once found myself living in unfavorable company. But Mr. Fantastic was there to take me away from all that. I think you will find that he is more than willing to help you too.”

Jazz almost looked offended at such an idea, “Fo’ real?! Well da’z just rude, who’d wanna hurt a Hobbs?” She crossed her legs with a huff. She looked to the side and thoughtfully bit her lip; the job offer was awfully tempting. “Fo’ me and Olka? And all you guys want back is we work for you righ’?”

Hobbs chuckled. “It’s not so straight-forward an arrangement. Around here, we just ask that you be the best...well, you, that you can be.”

Jazz’s smile grew wider, “Really?! Da’z cool, Jazz can do that, I already feel like I’m da best!” She slapped both her knees and was about to get up only to sit back down again and stroke her chin as she mumbled, “Wait, is Olka gonna be chill wid dat...I think she’s da best but she gotta t’ink dat too hmmm…”

Another laugh bubbled from Hobb’s throat - wherever it was. “Some employees are more of a work in progress than others. Speaking of which - Jeremy!” his voice raised as he called upward.

“Yep!” A sharp voice called back from somewhere beyond the stairs. “What can I do for you, man?”

“Jeremy, don’t make me yell, come down here,” Hobbs requested.

It took several long seconds. Finally, the sound of a chair scooching harshly across the floor was heard, followed by footsteps. “Listen,” Jeremy started before he reached the end of the stairs, “I’m like, twenty minutes away from getting Holdon’s report out and - oh. Hello Jazz,” He greeted flatly as he saw the woman sitting at the table.

Jazz grinned brightly at the familiar face waving, “Yoo, didn’ know you was chillin’ ‘round here too Jeremy!” She quizzically raised a brow at Hobbs, “Wha’z Jeremy gotta do with progress-workin’ folk?”

Jeremy crossed his arms and leant nonchalantly against the door frame. “Oh right, yeah. Chillin’. That’s what I do around here. Just fuck about. Get trashed with Hobbs. Keep him company.” He explained in a casual manner.

Hobbs looked patiently at Jeremy, smiling that ever-placid smile. “What Jeremy means, is that he works here.” Hobbs explained. “Jeremy - I was wondering if you’d be willing to show Jazz around the department, seeing as you two already seem to be familiar.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off the door frame. “Yeah yeah, I can do that,” he sighed in a resigned sort of way.

No sooner did Jeremy lean away did Jazz look between the two and grinned, “A’ighty, mini-room explorin’ adventure, LE’Z GO!” She quite literally bounced off the chair and skipped to the other employee, “So where we headin’ first?”

Jeremy gave Hobbs a look that said he really didn’t appreciate having his super important ‘work’ be interrupted for a tour. But he stepped forward to lead the way. “We’ll start with intake, then head down to lock up. The place feels bigger than it is but you can still get lost, so.”

“It’s still very big!” Hobbs called back brightly, “You two have fun!”

“Ya got it chief!” Jazz saluted back at Hobbs while following obediently after Jeremy with a spring in her step, excited to see the new area and not shy about immediately asking questions, “So wha’z an intake? Is lock up like a prison? Are there scary baddies in da prison? If Jazz gets lost do I chill in the lock up or the intake?”

Jeremy kept walking, but he did toss a squinty-eyed stare over his shoulder at Jazz for a moment. “Do you even know what requisitions does?”

Jazz chirped cheerfully, “Nope!”

The leading guide sighed. Jeremy brought a hand up to rub down his face. “Right. Well. We track down and pick up things the company needs. Most of it’s boring shit. Other times you actually get to find something interesting.”

Jazz focused all her attention on Jeremy as he explained, letting out an ‘ooh!’ before grinning, “Interestin’ like what? Ya ever find anythin’ cool an’ mysterious? Wha’z da weirdest t’ing ya ever found, out an’ about?” Jazz poked her chin as she recollected, “I once found a skeech-caved statue wid ice on her tits.” She bit her tongue between her teeth cheekily as she snorted, “Called her Titsicles.”

Jeremy snorted but he really tried to hide the fact that he was smiling. “Yeah okay. That’s not bad,” He said in a scrutinizing, cocky sort of way. “Amature, but not bad. I mean I got to track down a kid in a cryo-pod once, but don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get up to that level.”

Jeremy spent the rest of the tour pointing at doors, naming them and, as promised, going over the intake, lock up, office space and the forbidden room. Jazz was in fact so intrigued by the latter that she didn’t really notice Jeremy ditch.

“Uh...Jeremy?” She whirled her head left and right down the corridor but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. She blinked before brightly gasping, “Oooh I get it, we’re playin’ hide an’ seek!” She took off in a very wrong direction while looking around. It would take quite a while before Jazz would figure out what happened and for Hobbs to scold Jeremy heavily for not giving her a proper tour.

[liepcrd]

a new friend // event drabble (part 2)

Though she had yet to open her eyes, she could feel the warmth of her scientist close by. It comforted her as her brain eased into consciousness and the wheels started turning. She stretched her arms to grasp him tighter and draw his warmth to the soft, worn threads of her shirt (one that was not hers) so she could snuggle him while he was hopefully still asleep. However, when she reached out to embrace him tighter what she grabbed was soft and squishy. And cold. Colress might've had soft skin, but he definitely wasn't cold. She opened her eyes to find a small green orb now pressed to her body. It chirped gleefully.

"What the-!?"

A sleepy chuckle came from beside her, "Your friend has invaded the bed. At some point it pushed us apart."

"Go on, Solosis," Katherine replied, shooing it away. "I want my scientist."

The orb Pokémon bounced off of her hand, rolling toward the end of the bed. Unable to stop rolling, it fell to the floor with a soft 'thump!'. It went unnoticed by either human on the bed, for they were far too enveloped in each other's presence to notice. Solosis floated back up to see what they were doing. The Pokémon couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were awfully close together.

"You don't need to be so grumpy..." Colress murmured, moving some hair out of her face. He smiled as she wrapped her arms around him as she had wanted to do in the first place. "I'm sure it just wanted warmth."

"I wanted warmth too, but I was greeted by a squishy cold orb." She hissed, slightly irritated.

The scientist pressed his lips to her forehead, unable to hide his grin. He didn't say anything, but as he received a kiss on the lips in return it appeared he didn't need to. The Trainer wasn't grumpy enough to frown while giving him the kiss--not that Colress gave her a chance. His arms slipped from around her and moved to her sides, right above her hips. And then he started tickling her. The action caught her off guard and she had a brief look of surprise on her face before laughing, her hands going to his to try and get him to stop. Her legs scrunched up as she tried to pry him off, but as she was laughing she was unable to muster the strength. Eventually he stopped, both of them laughing loudly. In turn, she tickled him back. Though Colress would've easily been able to remove her hands, he didn't. Instead he took the opportunity to start kissing her again. He wanted more than what she had given him previously. And seeing as neither of them had to be anywhere...

"Mmm, Colress," Katherine murmured, but her lips were soon captured by his once more.

Their bodies against one another now, the scientist could imagine sliding her shirt up--or off--to reveal her beautiful body. He would place his hands gently above her hips, though with no intention of tickling her sides this time, and help himself. If she would allow him, of course. She showed no signs of stopping him though, enjoying it just as much as he did. One hand crept down to her shirt and--

"Soloooo!"

Within the small space they had between them, Solosis had crammed itself there and attempted to push Colress away. The scientist was slightly irritated by it's sudden appearance, but Solosis' behavior was intriguing to him. Katherine smiled a little. Oh, how the tables had turned.

"...You know, if you put it in a Poké Ball, this wouldn't be a problem." Colress attempted to convince her. Evidently, her body didn't crave him so badly that she'd do anything to win his attention back.

"Nice try," She laughed. "But as I told you last night, I'm not keeping it."

Solosis meanwhile wasn't paying attention to her words. It was still busy trying to push Colress away. It soon gave up and turned its back toward him, chirping at Katherine excitedly. It buried itself in her neck, still yearning for her attention. Solosis wasn't the only one there who wanted her.

"I don't think it likes you." Katherine giggled, taking the Pokémon from her neck and holding it.

"It truly is like a child. It wants your attention and it wants all of it!"

Katherine leaned in and gave him a Beartic kiss, "That sounds like someone else I know."

The Solosis chirped in different tone when she got close to Colress again, frowning. It really DID demand all of her attention.

"I suppose we should get up, Solosis and the others are probably hungry. Speaking of," Colress opened the covers. "What name have you decided to give Solosis?"

"I told you already, I'm not keeping it! At this rate, maybe you should catch it."

"A Pokémon who doesn't like me? No thanks, we have Ivan for that."

"Whatever you say, Colress." Katherine replied, grinning as she uncovered herself and got up with him.

[shadowsofsilvermoon-blog]

Cold as the Grave

Echo was pissed.  With the safehouses supplied and secured, Phantom had been digging around and as a consequence the next step of the Wolves’ scavenger hunt for information had been passed off to him.  Investigate the Stormwind Graveyard.  And no matter how much it aggravated him though, it was better than sitting around doing effectively nothing at the manor with the General’s inanimate body.  He ground his teeth as he passed through the Valley of Heroes.  He was supposed to be putting people -in- the ground for this act of aggression, not digging -up- bodies.

The lamp lighters came out as he skirted the busy sections of the Trade District on his way to the north side of the city.  He hadn’t bothered to don any of his usual human cosmetics or armor instead sticking with some standard indescript dark leathers; if he had any luck there would be several more bodies in the Graveyard by morning.  Furthermore, as much as getting this done mattered, there was still the matter of 8 months under torture with the Vengeance of Theramore.  Being in the human capital was far less comfortable now that it once might have been for him.  He balled and uncurled his fists a few times, his jaw clenched as he thought about it.  Crossing the canal, he shook his head brushing the thought from his mind.

“There's a large tree by the waterfront that shades the Mausoleum.  Investigate the graveyard around there for anything.  I can't give you more to go on.” Phantom had told him over the comms.  He crossed Cathedral Square with disgust written into his features; a clergyman was preaching on a box near the steps with a small crowd of nobles there.  So too a few pockets of people were gathered, talking and debating drivel.  At Echo could only assume it was drivel.  As the nobility in Silvermoon had a tendency to be intolerably self indulgent cretins, so was Echo’s experience that those of the cloth from Stormwind were zealous radicals whose presence would not be unexpected in an asylum.  Some of the worst acts of violence in the last century had been borne of the Light.  Arthas Menethil and his quest to ‘save’ Lordaeron, the Scarlet Crusade, and the betrayal of Archbishop Benedictus at Wyrmrest.  All acts committed in the name of a hokey religion.  It wasn't even that he objected to the idea of a deity, but he found the notion of one who takes attendance to be downright ridiculous.

He carefully meandered toward the crowd that was listening to the preacher.  One woman had strung a very large tote over her shoulder which drew his attention instantly, an easy target.  Expertly he came up behind her and her presumably husband pretending to listen to the speech.  Keeping his shoulders open he dipped his hand inside, gauging her reaction.  She shifted her weight from away to toward him.  The bag of gold was easy to find, she hadn't buried it at all.  Carefully he made sure he was close enough that she'd bump into him.  As it happened, he withdrew the coin purse.  She turned to him, her breath catching as a hand came up to her chest.  He hid both hands behind his back, stringing the bag to his belt with a practiced ease.  “I didn't see you, pardon me.” she apologized, though the accident was of his creation.  He brought his right hand back out as the left finished securing his score.  “Not to worry, no harm done.” he assured her quietly.  She gave a nod of appreciation and turned back to the speaker.  Echo waited patiently for several moments before turning to leave.  She looked back to him as he moved, much less subtly now.  He tipped his head to her, back pedaling into his turn to hide the coin purse behind him until she was refocused on the man of the cloth.

He crossed to the east side of the square where a caretaker was outside the orphanage with a cart of flowers.  He unbound the coin purse and dropped it atop the cart.  “I'd like a full bouquet.  Tulips, Lilacs, Orchids, and a single Rose as well.” he requested. “Consider the rest an anonymous donation.”

She looked at the coin purse and then at him in surprise.  “Thank you, that's very generous of you.” she replied in awe, grabbing and beginning to arrange the flowers.

Echo stood in silence.  As she collected the rose he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck through the fabric of his hood.  On the journey over it had finally hit him and sunk in.  It wasn’t that the General’s lack of presence had not effected him up until now, but it was easy to let the rage burn through the short term without him really processing the fact that she was currently not among them.

“Cheer up love.” the florist told him, offering him the bundle of flowers he’d requested.  He accepted it with a gracious nod before heading over to the graveyard.  And then the hopelessness set in.  What was he even supposed to look for?  The task seemed paramount to trying to find a needle in a haystack.  Were they not of the Horde?  What was a human cemetery going to offer in the way of clues to him or Phantom?

He made his way left upon entering the park, slowly plodding down the brick path towards the harbor side.  Lines of headstones stared back at him as he made his way closer to the Mausoleum.  He veered left, weaving between the plots toward the pond.  There were many trees that dotted the memorial site, but Echo found his way to a large hickory that stood at the shore.  He sat down and gave himself a moment to just breath in the quiet, save for the bird chirps and gentle lapping of water finding the shore.  He closed his eyes and placed the flowers on the ground next to himself, his knees brought up in front of him, with hands clasped, elbows encircling his spread knees in a very relaxed and casual position.  The wind rustled at the leaves about him and in the distance he could hear the sounds of workers to the west at the docks punctuated by the ring of hammers from the east in the Dwarven District.  For several minutes there was nothing else.  A bit more pacified, he looked over his left shoulder and opened his eyes, scanning the trunk of the hickory.  There was nothing around it either.  He pulled out one of his knives and crawled over to the tree.  The steel bit into the bark and he knelt there etching for a few minutes until he was satisfied and stood up stepping away from his work.  The initials ‘GCW’ now marked the spot and Echo picked the bouquet up before laying it at the base of the tree in front of his carving.

“You know, when you sent me after Reshira, you warned me to be prepared and not to die.  And even before I had left you clearly had the intuition to know something was wrong.  You sent the entire damn Pathfinder unit after me.  Seems the tables have turned.  I don’t know what you got into, but Phantom and I are coming; you’re just going to have to hold out for a little while longer.” he said quietly to the shrine.

He picked up the remaining rose and headed around and toward the Mausoleum itself.  The plots were larger here, clearly owned by the ruling houses and other wealthy property owners of Stormwind.  It took him almost two laps but eventually he found it.  The large headstone contained the epitaph: Amber Stathis, Our ray of sunshine.  The assassin knelt down, his ears wilting as he placed the rose at the foot of the grave.  “One failure too many.” he mumbled aloud.  He took a deep breath and stood up, looking around at nothing in particular when the oddity caught his eye.  Over to his left by another tree closer to the wall was the faintest fleck of pink on the ground.  He made his way over and sifted through the topsoil when his hands rolled over and immediately collapsed on the small almost malleable item.  Pulling it up, it looked to be a pink piece of candy.  The squishiness meant it wasn’t hard, taffy or gum perhaps.  He tucked it into a belt pouch before his eyes scanned over the spot more thoroughly.  Then it struck him.  This was a dead drop, a bit more crudely done than he would expect but a dead drop none the less.  He took a different dagger from its sheath, this one far more blunt than the one he’d used on the hickory, and proceeded to dig at the dirt.  It was softer and aerated.  But a few minutes revealed that whatever had been hidden here was no longer there.  He frowned at the site for a moment before vanishing into the long cast afternoon shadows.

Maybe this was what Phantom had been hoping to find…. @wolf-queen @phlareshadowdancer

[the-wicked-beasts-that-roam-blog]

Chapter 1

Bitter whiskey and old piss ripped the breath from Aidyn’s lungs. Loud music vibrated the walls and wooden floor of the bar called Pig’s as he pushed past bigger men than him—some measuring well past his 6’3. Glancing into the dark crooks and crannies of the small biker bar, he rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb.

Where the hell was he?

Usually, he could spot his brother from a mile away. You couldn’t miss the huge son of a bitch.

He paused, leaning against a wooden pillar, turquoise eyes shooting toward the men around the pool table. That was where he had expected his brother to be—drinking a pint and putting money on the table against the old bikers decked in leather. But … he wasn’t there.

After another long second, he pushed off the pillar and headed towards the back door, the night breeze hitting him as the screen door slammed shut. Another intake of breath had his chest rising with a giant sigh.

Yet again, no sign of him. His boot tapped the rotted planks of the porch as his eyes scanned the wheat field.

Bad things happened when his brother disappeared. Death. Havoc. Things of the like, usually ending with a body to burn and evidence to bury.

A strange popping noise from behind the dumpster had him stepping off the makeshift porch. It was a squishy, wet sound. And the closer he got, the louder it became. At first, he thought it was a couple getting freaky. He almost turned around—even twisting on his heel—but as he did, a tangy, coppery, distinct smell hit his nose. He pulled a one-eighty and shuffled around the corner. On the clay ground, his brother’s huge fists continued to bash in a blond body builder’s face.

The man was dead. Aidyn was sure of it. If he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t live much longer with his brains smeared across the gravel. Blood dripped from his brother’s face, soaked his hands as his fists continued to strike the crushed skull.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, reaching for his enraged brother, and gripping him by the arms. “Enough, Dom. Enough.”

Reluctant as hell, Dom let off and pushed up from the ground, stumbling a bit. Still drunken with rage, drops of blood stained Dom’s carved face, and his ebony eyes glowed with hellfire.

“Jesus Christ, his brains are everywhere.” Aidyn stared down at the sludge smeared in the dirt and gravel.

“Good.” His brother spit on the body, and then he peeled the t-shirt off his back and wiped his face.

“The hell did he do—cheat you out of money?”

Dom shook his head. “Don’t worry about what he did.”

“We gotta get out of here before his buddies come looking for him.” Aidyn grabbed the man’s limp arms and winced as more pink sludge oozed from his skull. “Get his legs.”

“Leave him. I want these humans to find him.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

In response, Dom put a cigarette in his mouth and bent down, picking up a full bottle of Jim Beam that leaned against the dumpster. He poured the contents over the man, and lit a pack of matches, lighting his cigarette, and then tossed the fire onto the body.

And then Dom walked away as if it never happened.

Aidyn glanced once more at the burning body before following his brother down the dirt path and around the building. About halfway, Dom paused and Aidyn nearly collided with his back. His brother tilted his head, peering toward an opening between two shacks, and with the little bit of streetlight that shined through the crevice, a small shadow moved. Aidyn’s breath hitched, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. A blonde girl, who didn’t look any older than seven, kneeled in the dirt, staring up at his brother, with her cheeks covered in dirt and tears, her nose and mouth a bloody mess.

His brother stared back at her, and for the first time in a while, a speck of sadness crept into their abyss. And just as fast as the emotion slipped in, Dom was on the move again, stalking toward the black ’70 dodge challenger that set in the corner of the parking lot.

His brother’s blood-stained hands yanked open the driver door, and he chucked the shirt into the floorboard as he dropped into the seat. A woman’s cry rang out and with one last look over his shoulder, Aidyn hopped in the passenger side. Their other brother sat in the back, his half-empty whiskey bottle sitting between his legs.

“You look like you had fun,” Zeke muttered, green eyes red and swollen.

Dom didn’t look back as he shoved the key in the ignition, his patience seeming to have built up over the trip.

“Shut up, Zeke.” Aidyn watched Dom from the side, a frown on his lips.

“Go ahead. Take up for him like always.”

“She told me about you.” The middle-aged man nodded as he cleaned the knife, the ten-inch shine of the steel reflecting the broken sunlight that gleamed through the trees. “She told me.”

The chirping birds settled in the trees above her head, their whistling a comforting sound. Jade glanced up, her top lip folded under her bottom lip as she watched the cardinal perched on the branch. Her grandmother had told her cardinals meant someone was visiting from heaven.

“I never believed before, but I do—I do now. I know. She showed me.” He smiled, tears glistening his brown eyes.

His fingers itched at the salt and pepper scruff on his cheeks. He sharpened the knife a few more times, the clash of steel gritting together like the teeth of a lion.

At the edge of the brush, Jade stood, afraid to step past the tree line in fear that it would swallow her up. Her honey colored eyes stared past the trees and into the darkness.

“I wouldn’t stand that close if I were you. These woods are alive in more ways than one,” a raspy older woman’s voice spoke from behind her.

With a deep breath, Jade glanced over her shoulder. Passing between the magnolia trees, Len hobbled her way toward her, using a wooden cane for support. Her gray, brittle hair hung loosely in a low ponytail, and her flowery gown fluttered in the breeze.

“Don’t tell me you have werewolves living in your backyard?” Jade smirked at her.

The old woman stopped and looked at the trees. “They’d be the least of my worries.”

“You forget I ran through those before.”

“Just because you got out once, doesn’t mean you��ll get out again.”

“Twice.”

Len looked over to her. “Two is a lucky number.”

“My lucky number is three.”

The old woman broke a smile. “Smartass.” She turned to look at the small cottage nestled meters away. “Still traveling with the circus?”

“Yeah, and in about,” Jade pulled her phone out her pocket and clicked on the screen, “forty minutes you’ll see the main attraction: a twenty-four year old pissing her daisy dukes.”

“Hm. Already drunk at four in the afternoon?”

“Oh no, she’s been drunk since 10 a.m.”

Len shook her head and sighed. “She doesn’t waste time.”

“Well, she’s mad. She had some dude in Ohio she was crazy over.”

“Why didn’t she stay?”

“His wife wasn’t too keen on her living with them.”

The old woman’s eyes widened. “That’s a good reason.”

Jade stuffed her hands in her pockets and nodded toward the ’06 red charger sitting in the driveway. “She’s in the grief stage until another man sweeps her off her feet.”

“She’ll have a nice list of men to choose from in a few days.”

“Just what we need—her getting a new boy toy.”

“At least she’ll find a new vice.” As if on cue, the right back door to the charger swung open and a pale foot slid out followed behind a long slender leg.

After a severe case of struggling and slinking in a less than graceful manner out of the car, Erica finally tumbled out of the back seat and onto the ground in nothing but a pair of daisy dukes and a pink bikini top. The entire five-hour ride from Cincinnati she’d sipped on a bottle of cheap peach schnapps stolen from her ex’s house, and in a less than a second she managed to puke all of it up on the back tire of Jason’s car.

“So, these guys … are they bodyguards or something?” Jade asked, cutting her eyes away from her sister and turning her attention back to Len. “Jason hasn’t said much about where we’re going or who we’re staying with.”

“Figures.” Len began walking toward a wooden bench, motioning with a finger for her to follow. “They’re cousins of his—technically. He doesn’t like asking them for help, but he’s out of options if you ask me.”

Maintaining the slow pace of the woman, Jade’s gaze shot to where Len pointed past the car and toward the range of large dark green mountains looming in the east.

“The house is secluded, and that’s what you need right now. Not to mention, Jason—as much as he loves you—can’t protect you on his own. He doesn’t have the strength.” She plopped down on the bench. “Just be careful around the oldest brother. He’s got attitude problems a mile long.“

“I’m surprised I haven’t met them before.” Jason usually introduced her to everyone in his family.

A ghost of a smile settled on Len’s face. “You probably crossed paths once or twice.”

The door of the house slammed, and Jason stepped off the porch, blonde hair wet and black circles beneath his annoyed amber eyes. If he were taller than 5’8, he’d look menacing.

“No more hiding bottles in your damn bag.”

“It was an accident. Do you think I would’ve wasted perfectly good liquor on you?” Erica asked, resting her head against the car door as she sat on the grass with her legs stretched out and her hands palming her flushed cheeks. Sweat matted red locks of hair to her pale face, and she looked the definition of a hot mess.

Jason ducked his head in the driver window. “My seat’s still soaking wet.”

“Towels are hanging up on the clothesline and cleaner under the sink,” Len called to him.

With a frown, Jade sat on the bench and eyed the poor guy. His patience had to be running thin—if he had any left at all.

“He looks worn out.”

Jade nodded. “The driving around is wearing him down.”

“The worry is eating him up too.” Len looked over to her, pale blue eyes staring straight through her. “And what about you—how are you holding up?”

“I’m here.” And she guessed that counted for something.

“Why’s the car running so rough? Sounds like it’s about to die.” Aidyn chucked his cigarette-butt out the window.

“I think someone might be fucking with it.” And that someone had a talent for witchcraft fuckery.

Dom watched the smoke rise from the exhaust, silently counting all the ways to kill a witch.

The cheap florescent lights of the gas station flickered as Aidyn jumped out the car and walked inside, his entire body twitching from withdrawals. Dom shook his head, feeling a headache coming on at the base of his temple. T would be getting his ass fed to him tomorrow. He was supposed to be weaning his brother off, not feeding him more. Aidyn had snorted less cocaine before they left Tennessee.

He glanced up at the clouds hanging low and stuck his hand out the window. A few cool drops of rain hit his palm, and then the few drops turned into a downpour. He rolled up the window and leaned his head back against his seat, fighting to keep his eyes open. For just a moment, he gave in and let them close.

He saw Zeke in the woods like he had three years before, covered in blood as he sat naked on the ground, cradling the girl who lay deathly still in his arms. Except this time, his fingers twisted in long dark curls instead of blonde tresses.

Dom blinked, realizing it wasn’t Zeke sitting there holding that girl … but himself.

The car door opened, and his head snapped up.

“I got two packs this time, so if the alcoholic decides he wants to drink us under the table again, he won’t leave us empty-handed.” Aidyn threw the cases on the floor and paused outside the door. “I gotta piss before we get back on the road though.”

Slamming the door, he jogged across the street to the woods and disappeared into the brush.

“Had the dream again, didn’t you?” Zeke’s rough voice broke the silence. “Guilty conscious starting to eat away at you, huh?”

Dom rubbed his eyes, trying hard to erase a pair of honey eyes from his memory. But three years later, here he was, still reeling from the effects of that one shit week.

“I hope that memory stays with you forever.” He accepted his brother’s hate like a burden to bear.

With a glance in the rearview mirror, he caught his brother’s disheveled appearance—glassy red eyes, two weeks’ worth of beard growth, and greasy hair. The depressed bastard was one step from being a hobo. God forbid a woman ever make him sink that low.

The door opened yet again and Aidyn jumped inside, soaking wet and smelling like a dog.

“Never felt so good to piss.” He laughed as he got comfortable. “You know when you wait to pee and your gut starts to hurt from holding it for so long? Yeah, totally just had that experience.” Aidyn then looked over, and his face changed as he realized Dom wasn’t laughing. “What’s a matter with you?”

Dom frowned, wishing he had the power to fade into thin air. He lived with these people. These idiots. They invaded his space like Martians, and stayed and thrived and threw up everywhere as if it were a common territorial marking.

He turned the key in the ignition and the car gave a pitiful knocking sound. He closed his eyes, swearing that if anyone ever touched his car again, he’d remove their bowels through their throat. He turned the key once again and the car came to life. He revved it, drowning out his brothers’ voices with the roar of the engine and backed out. Staring at the long road ahead, he couldn’t wait to be home and imagined himself barricaded in his room with nothing but liquor, a pack of Oreos, and a carton of cigarettes for company.

“So, you like it?” Jason asked.

Jade blinked, pulling her headphones out of her ears. “Huh?”

“The house?”

She looked over at it, barely taking it in before looking back to him. His amber eyes pleaded with her to say yes, but damn if she didn’t have the biggest urge to say no, just to see if it would matter.

In the last three years, she had lived in twenty different places. Twenty different towns. With twenty different people. She didn’t care if she liked it or not—she’d be leaving it soon anyway.

But for Jason’s sake, she nodded.

He smiled, raking his fingers through his dirty blond hair and nodding as if he’d done right by some degree. She glanced at the house and guessed he’d done better than the others. A finger-eating unicorn wasn’t trotting across the lawn, nor was a komodo dragon being used as a guard dog.

There was a catch though. There was always a catch.

A four-car garage connected to the side of the gothic-styled house made of gray stone. Gargoyles guarded the giant front porch and the lonely balcony on the top floor. Maybe Dracula was their landlord? The high king of bloodsuckers probably waited inside for a fresh, juicy throat to chomp on.

It could be no worse than Lola’s place. The bearded lady used to make her walk her talking pet gorilla to the beach daily. His name was Ralph. He smoked cigars, painted watercolors, slept in a hammock, and wrote sensuous poetry about butterflies.

A true artist at heart indeed, aside from the fact that he liked taking craps on sandcastles.

“Any dead bodies in there I should know about?” She picked her backpack off the floorboard.

Jason grinned. “Not this time.”

“You sure?”

At his aunt’s house, they had walked in and interrupted a séance one evening. The poor woman had been hell-bent on bringing her dead boyfriend back to life. Problem was: he’d been dead for a week and his body was starting to rot.

“That was one time. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

She stepped out the car, slinging her bag over her shoulder. When her sister didn’t move, she poked her head inside the vehicle. Erica lay spread-eagle with a night mask covering her eyes. There was no way she’d be waking up that woman. It wasn’t worth the risk of having her face mauled by a hyena. Jade shut the door and received a dead look from Jason.

“You wake her up. It’s not my job to wrestle a bear.” She tapped the roof of the car. “Pop the trunk.”

She headed to the rear of the Charger and the trunk sprung open. A suitcase fell out, and another one threatened to topple over. Jade shook her head as she threw her sisters suitcases to the ground, not caring if she broke the cheap crap inside them, and rummaged through the trunk until she came across her black suitcase and two green duffel bags that lay crushed at the bottom of the pile. Jason came to her side, holding a hand out to help.

“I’m good. Cinderella’s gonna need you to carry hers, though.”

He grimaced. “One of these days I’m going to drop her off on the side of the highway.”

“I’ll help you push her out.” She maneuvered her bags in one hand and dragged the suitcase in the other.

She wasn’t as adventurous as her sister. In fact, she could live a whole lifetime without any adrenaline rushes. She’d had plenty in her twenty-three years, and she was done with them.

And she swore if she had one more ankle sprain from a failed attempt on her life, she’d beat the living hell out of that conniving old witch with her bare hands.

Jason held open the oak door of the house, and she wobbled into the main hall, surveying the cherry-wood walls and the white marble floors. A barroom was to the left, along with a wide staircase, and a living room was to the right. Not bad, not bad. Had character, she supposed. Her almond gaze traveled back to the stairs, and she took a deep breath and shuffled her way toward them.

“What room?” she asked.

“Just pick one,” Jason said with a shrug as he disappeared into the barroom.

He’d been drinking more lately. She wondered if she needed to start drinking too since she was the only one left sober amid all the chaos.

Jade climbed the stairs, praying for someone to shoot her as she conquered them one step at a time, determined to get to the third floor. She veered to the right and paused in her tracks. Black iron lamps hung on the mahogany walls of the corridor. Shrugging, she walked the hall, eyeing each of the four doors, until she zeroed in on the last two.

A pie slice of light streamed from the last door on the right, and she nudged it with her elbow. With a slow creak, it opened, exposing a room void of color and personality. She dropped her things carelessly on the floor of the hall and stepped inside.

Two French doors led out to the balcony. And honestly, she would have picked the room for the balcony alone.

She was ready to get her things and drop them on the bed. Until her eyes landed on the closet. A lone jacket and a pair of black boots set on the floor. And that’s when she also noticed the bed had been laid in—the gray duvet crinkled and nearly falling off the mattress.

“You would go in the one room you can’t have.”

She looked over her shoulder. Jason leaned on the frame of the door, his gaze scanning over the empty, cold room.

Disappointment set in as she sighed. “Sorry, I couldn’t tell anyone was living in here.”

He gave a nod. “The one across the hall’s open. Promise it’s a lot better than this one.”

Jason picked up her bags, and she followed as he went into the other room. Sunlight spewed in from a large wall-sized window adorned in red drapes. Her eyes slid to the dark walls of wood, and then to the fireplace across from the bed. The room spoke to the inner part of her that leveled with Wednesday Adams, and called to all those little dark spots in her heart.

She put her things on the trunk at the foot of the black four-poster bed and glanced around, noticing the cobwebs that hung low in the corners and the spiders dangling from the ceiling. Her eyes swept over the claw tub by the window and the broken black iron chandelier swaying in the middle of the room.

“It needs a little work, but I think it fits you,” Jason said, wiping a finger along a dusty white writer’s desk in the corner.

“Where is he? He was supposed to be here three hours ago,” a woman’s shrill voice called from inside the room.

Leaning his shoulder on the wall outside the office, Lu glanced around the living room, noting Marcy had an expensive taste. A red chaise lounge set in front of the marble fireplace, along with a bear rug. Paintings covered the white walls, and a black grand piano stood in the corner next to the patio leading out to the inground pool.

He heard a young man mumble something incoherent.

“Give it here, you incompetent oaf.”

With a deep breath, Lu stepped from behind the wall and stood just outside the doorway.

“Always gotta do everything around here,” Marcy muttered under her breath as she signed her signature.

A deep chuckle left Lu’s chest. In an instant, Marcy’s gaze flicked from the paper to him.

An evil grin curled her chapped lips. “Well, you sure took your time.” She turned to the frazzled brown-haired boy and handed him the papers. “Leave.”

As the young man scurried from the room, Lu stepped in. “I’m not one to rush.”

For a second, he paused, realizing the tip of her usually pointy nose was missing. Along with her two pinky fingers. And it looked as if she’d caught a case of leprosy—bumps lining her chin and dead skin hanging from her forehead. Not to mention, the balding taking place on her scalp. Her blonde hair hung in thin clumps, and he had the urge to name her “Patches.”

Blinking off the shock, he strutted into her office, looking around with a holier-than-thou disposition. He was certain his arrogance pissed her off more than anything. Marcy glared but kept her smile.

“So, why’d you call?”

“I need your help with someone.”

Lu fiddled with the gnome ornaments on her desk. “Who?”

“A girl I can’t seem to catch.”

His eyes flicked to hers. “Gone soft, have you?” Her smile faded into gritting teeth. “What’s in it for me?”

“Did you seriously just ask that?” She cut her blue eyes and rubbed her forehead. “What do you think’s in it for you? A soul to add to your list.”

And he never said no to a free soul.

As her words sank in, he scowled, his eyes cold and calculating. “What do you have in mind?”

“You just do whatever you feel is necessary at the time. Knock her out, or do your little voodoo wonders on her. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be that creative, just as long as she gets back to me alive.”

“Body’s rotting that bad, huh?”

“What do you think?”

He paced in front of her desk. “So, who’s the girl?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but she’s got the ingredient I need to finish my spell.”

He cocked a brow. “You don’t even know her name?”

“Do I look like a fucking detective, Lu? I know the elf’s name, and for me, that’s enough. I just wanna have her heart on a silver platter in front of me. I’m hungry, and literally falling apart.”

“And how do you expect me to find her?”

“You’re Satan, Prince of Darkness, King of the Underworld, do your voodoo and figure out where she is.”

“Exactly. I’m Satan, not God. Unless she’s made a deal with one of my minions, then I don’t know her off the top of my head, sweetness.” He played with his unruly black hair in the mirror on her wall. “I need something of hers to get an idea of where she is.”

Marcy sucked her teeth, her fingernails tapping the arms of her chair. “Really?”

The witch sighed loudly, leaned forward, and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. She dug around for a minute before sitting up straight and slamming down a single piece of paper in front him.

Lucifer lifted the vanilla paper, eyeing the sketch as an uncontrollable hatred stirred within him, his hands trembling with rage. Heat crawled up the collar of his white button-down shirt, along his neck and to his face.

“That good enough, Prince?”

His eyes turned into slits as he switched his fiery gaze to Marcy. “Where did you get this?”

In an instant, the witch’s face paled as if he’d stabbed her with his words.

“One of my men found it in a hotel room she stayed in.”

He breathed deep, closed his eyes, and a thousand memories flooded him, ones that weren’t his own. A tiny cottage, the dark woods, and a coarse river running between mountains—it all flashed to him in a matter of seconds.

But that’s not what piqued his interest or told him exactly where the girl was. It was the hazy outline of a man shrouded in darkness. He couldn’t see his face, but the power pouring off him in the memory alone told Lu exactly who he was.

“Well, hello,” Lu muttered as a wolfish grin spread across his face.

Marcy perked up like a girl scout. “You found her?”

He glared down at the sketch. “I found a lot more than just her.”