#ophis drabbles

[ophieslibrary]

Been thinking a lot about Task Force 141 & reader today. Reader getting captured on mission & the boys worry about getting them back. Except they didn’t need to worry at all.

Getting captured on a mission and taken to a secondary location where they begin torture for information on the infamous men of the 141. But what these idiots didn’t realize is that they left the bindings just a little too loose. So naturally they’re broken, and all the enemies are killed. Brutually. They were a small team that managed to escape to a safe house of sorts, all their other comrades were killed by the boys.

Now the boys are going fucking crazy. They searched up and down the base 3 times. Nothing. They even take a few stragglers that weren’t quite gone yet. They question, interrogate, torture until finally one of these little birds sings about a safe house a couple miles from base in the woods.

The head straight there armed to the nines expecting a fire fight to the death. Instead what greets them is blood and guts and bone. Corpses littering the floor around a table. Atop the table sits their sweet, sunshine in human form, team member. Swinging legs back and forth humming a song about a bunny in the forest.

Price is proud. Taking out every enemy alone is no small feat, even if it was a smaller squad.

Ghost is relieved. Not dead and seemingly okay, minus a few minor cuts and bruises.

Gaz is terrified. Covered in blood head to toe that is clearly belonging to the corpses laying around, and just singing.(!?)

Soap.. Soap knows that song.

Little Bunny Foo Foo hopping through forest, picking up the field mice and bopping them on their heads.

xx

I’m sitting in Urgent Care waiting to see if I have Strep and I couldn’t get this out of my head. It’s a little silly but I HAD to write it.😂🩵

Requests are: OPEN

[erosology]

just popping up here to let y’all know that i have the sweetest most beautiful most thoughtful most amazing girlfriend and every time i look up at the stars i see her face kthnxbai

[isaut]

pick one for something i’m working on

[chigirisprincess]

im gonna write jean >:3

again no context 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

[hoshizorax]

Sinday Drabble Ophie and Sukuna >:)

sinday drabble - you were always my favorite

there she was in all her beautiful glory. splayed out on the bed for him. there was no comparing her to the others that he had and he would be lying if he didn't favor her. the way her hair laid just so on the futon below her. those eyes knew just what they were doing when they rested half lidded like that. her mouth open in pleasure like that as well. like an angel to come and absolve him of every sin he had ever committed.

then his focus went to the fact that he was deep within her and had stopped to admire her. thighs framing his hips just so that he didn't want to move for a moment. no until she looked at him questioningly and his hands pressed into the flesh right under her bare breasts. moving once more within her as he let out a breath. "just wanted to admire you. look so good underneath me like this.."

maybe he was repeating himself a bit but he couldn't help it. damnit, he didn't care about the others and she always knew just what to do to make him unravel in the right ways. "the others must get jealous of you.. good.. i want them to be. they'll never compare to what you do to me. never fulfill my needs perfectly like you.." pulling out and then slipping back inside to cause her body to jolt. a cry of pleasure leaving her as she closed her eyes and her body arched.

a pair of arms moved down to grip her thighs as his pace quickened. wanting to hear the sounds of their skin colliding over and over again. the cries of her pleasure along with his labored breathing was a symphony all on its own. a dirty one but it was one he enjoyed more than anything else. causing her such pleasure and knowing that he was the only one allowed to touch her like this. a hand moved down to rub against that bundle of nerves between her legs.

"i want you and only you." another hand moving to gently grasp her neck. just to secure where he was and he wasn't putting pressure. "you're mine. all mine.." her eyes stared into his and he almost unraveled right then and there. wanting to bring her to her pleasure first, his hips slammed harder into her as the one hand rubbed her. it seemed she was getting close as her legs began to tremble. moans became higher in pitch as she neared that edge. begging and pleading before eventually crashing over it.

he was not far behind when she pulsated around him like she did. releasing inside of her with a loud groan. keeping himself deep as he did so and letting his head fall back to look at the ceiling for the moment. gripping her hips as he did so while jerking forward to squeeze the last few drops of himself within her. "hah.. so perfect.. i was serious about what i said.. the others will be let go and you shall be the only one for me.."

[trollbreak]

Rmemebers my half baked thought of normal clown two piece puzzle. Tembers that guy name I came up with exclusively for that drabble where I introduced ophi. Rubs my lil hands together like a fly and places them in the slow cooker

[starsasunder]

@seatedsacrifice sent: “Show me where my armor ends. Show me where my skin begins.” / Inanna ( this one just spoke to him /shrug.emoji )

the usual excuse: got carried away, drabble under cut. just... just take it.

She sat behind him on the thick, plush rug in his office, leaning over where he sat crisscross on the floor reading. Her fingers moved gently through his hair as she braided it back from his face, occasionally plucking up a flower from the basket at her side and deftly weaving it in. This was not the first time he had allowed her the luxury of braiding his hair, and the work was, by now, familiar and comforting. She hummed softly to herself as she worked, enjoying the companionable quiet that had settled between them. Time passed quickly, and before she knew it, she had come near to finishing her task.

Careful as she was, she could not help occasionally brushing against his ears, his neck, his cheek - each touch hesitant and soft, withdrawing as quickly as it came. As she wove the last of the the braids together and tied it with a thin leather cord, her fingers slowed, gently combing through his hair as she arranged and rearranged it, fussing over the tiniest details. She knew she was being particular, knew he would know it for the ruse it was - merely an excuse to prolong the contact between them as long as she could - but she could not seem to stop, regardless.

At last finding nothing else she could fuss over, she sighed softly, preparing to withdraw and re-establish the space she was so careful never to invade without invitation. She handed him a mirror, watching for a moment as he examined her handiwork with an appraising eye. Yet as she prepared to rise to her feet, she found her departure stalled, his hand capturing her own. She opened her mouth to question him and found herself held captive by the softness in his pale lilac eyes as he turned his gaze upon her. "Red gardenias... these have become a favorite of yours lately, haven't they?" he asked, lips tilting up in a secret sort of smile.

"They go well with your hair," she retorted, a half truth at best. While red did suit him and complimented many of his outfits, that was not her reason for choosing the flower. And by that familiar, smug look in his eyes, he knew it too.

"While I do appreciate your concern for my stylistic sensibilities, there are an abundance of red flowers in the greenhouses. Yet given the choice, you have chosen gardenias every time."

She found her heart stalling in her chest and her excuses dying in her throat. He knew. She did not know how - he had never shown much of an interest in botany, and certainly not in the language of flowers - but he knew. She was as sure of it as she was of her own heart. He drew her hand closer and her breath stuttered out in staccato notes as his lips brushed soft at the juncture of her wrist, the kiss unexpected and soft and almost... reverent.

She sat frozen, too stunned to react. He was always so careful with touch, never offering more than was necessary, always maintaining his distance. And after everything they had been through, she had resolved that she would be the last one to push those boundaries. But that didn't stop her from thinking about what it would be like - what it would feel like, to have things be different. Be easier. Pining silently for the quiet understanding and companionship that had grown between them to blossom into something more.

Her feelings for him were true, but they were also hers to bear. Guilt lanced through her, her hand trembling in his grip. "Ophi... You don't have to-"

"But I want to." The quiet that had settled between them made his voice seem somehow even lower than she was used to. “Vulnerability has never been my strong suit, Inanna... I suppose I shall need your assistance with that. Come, show me where my armor ends - show me where my skin begins.”

Her fingers trembled as he turned his head to press her hand against his cheek, his skin warm against her palm. She released a breath she had not realized she was holding, crumpling to her knees on the carpet.

Her secret was out at last, it seemed.

[starriider]

hey!! for the Drabble thing, 13 for Harringrove? love your writing xx

13. Kiss me.

Steve was really fucking drunk.

He thought it was an appropriate response to watching the boy he’s in love with make out and dance with just about every girl at this stupid fucking party.

He didn’t even want to come. Nancy and Jonathan told him that staying home alone for days on end isn’t healthy and then stuffed him in the back of Jonathan’s car and dragged him here despite his protests.

But still, he wasn’t surprised when they ditched him before the clock hit 11 o’clock.

So, Steve was really fucking drunk and really fucking stranded.

He huddled himself into a corner in the living room, moving only to refill his cup with whatever the fuck was in those bowls in the kitchen.

His eyes was burning holes into Billy Hargrove’s back from where he was making out with Tammy Thompson across the room. He was silently glad Robin couldn’t come.

This was how it was the whole night. Billy would make out with a girl with his arm around another, then switch. Steve pretended the warmth spilling down his face was because of the alcohol wafting up to his face.

Deciding he’d rather drag his drunk ass across Hawkins towards Loch Nora than watch the boy he was in love with advertise just how much of a raging heterosexual he is, Steve wiped his tears and staggered across the cup strewn lawn to the sidewalk.

The farther he walked, the more his tears seemed to appear.

“Fuck you!” He cried towards the sky, screaming at no one in particular. He kicked empty trash bins and stomped at stray cats until they fled before he heard the faint sound of someone yelling his name.

“God?” He whispered, staring into the sky he just called out to.

“Harrington!” He heard again, this time he turning around to find one Billy Hargrove, cruising beside him in his car, and not God, but honestly, close enough.

“Jesus fuck, Harrington, I heard you all the way from the party.” He continued, stepping out of his car to stabilize Steve who has completely forgotten the mechanics of his legs. 

“Okay, come on Steve. Get in the car.” And honestly, Steve would at least try if he wasn’t so distracted by the fact that Billy Hargrove said his name.

“You said m’name.” He mumbled and stared up at Billy, who had his hands around his waist in an equally distracting grip.

“I always say your name, what else am I gonna call you.”

“No, you said Steve.” He repeats, slurring his words. He pushed up against the car and closer to Billy. So close he could count his eyelashes if he was sober.

Standing here, with Billy’s arms around him and his face inches away, Steve realized that Billy Hargrove is the most beautiful boy he has ever seen.

“You’re s’pretty, Billy. You-you have…light blue eyes and a pretty face. It’s-it’s so pretty and…” He knew he was rambling and he knew he should stop, but his hands made their way up to cup Billy’s face on their own accord. “You’re not bullshit.”

“Steve, what are you say-”

“And I just wanna-i just wanna kiss you, Billy. So bad. But I can’‘t, because you like girls like Tammy Thompson and Carol and Tina and that’s okay but I just had to tell you-”

“Steve.”

“-that I love you, and it hurts so fucking bad all the time-”

“Steve!”

“-and I’m sorry-”

“Steve shut up and kiss me already you fucking idiot.”

“What?” Steve replied, breathy and uneven because there was no way-

“Kiss me.”

And Steve would rather fight a hundred demodogs than deny that request.

The kiss was messy and wet with clanking teeth and sloppy tongues and if this was anyone else Steve would’ve cringed and left but this wasn’t anyone else.

This was Billy Hargrove. And that was enough to make this the best kiss Steve has ever had.

“I’m gay.” Billy blurted when he pulled away. Steve followed a trail of red spreading from his chest to his cheeks.

“But-” Steve began.

“They’re all for show. The girls.” The words are rushed and quiet when they leave Billy’s mouth. “To make sure no one knows. So my dad doesn’t know.”

“Oh.” Steve whispers. Then, “Oh.”

Because now it all makes sense. Here Steve was thinking he was alone in Hawkins, Indiana, pretending to be someone he’s not when there was someone else fighting the same battle he was, right next to him, all alone too.

“Well,” Steve runs his fingers through Billy’s hair. “At least now you’re not alone…neither of us are.”

give me a prompt and a pairing!

[duskroine]

THEY WHO WALK AMIDST THE STARS.

NOTES. happy birthday to ophelia ( technically their second birthday celebrated in toa ) WORDS. 781

TWENTY YEARS HAVE PASSED since the stars first fell.

Ophelia is older now. Experience weighs their mind like a mother’s advice, like a father’s encouragement. They have stepped further into the world of adulthood, tasted the bitter iron of death many a time, and even still, they walk the monastery’s halls as though there is not a single doubt upon their shoulders. The world is not their own, but one would not tell it from how comfortable they grace the environment. Every step, every smile, all carefully calculated; always to the comfort and influence of those around them.

Today, when the Hero of Darkness, child of the Chosen One, rises from their slumber, they scramble for the hand mirror on their bedside table. The reflection that looks back at Ophelia is themselves, yes, but surely, on a day of their twentieth or more year upon the land ( or less, since they were still unsure of how time moved within this realm ) some kind of change would have occurred. No, for now, they cannot recognize any differences; their gaze only rests upon small features of their own that they have failed to see before.

Sharper eyes, surely. Maybe even the more prominent brushes of freckles that have begun to blossom across her nose, towards the edges of her cheeks in clusters above her cheekbone. Same dark sepia skin. Same pale irises. Same aloofness.

Time has passed now. Ophelia does not prepare for class, excusing herself a dismissal for only today and only for this occasion. She does not expect a grand celebration for her day of birth— this is not Nohr or Hoshido or Valla, neither the villages and towns between. There, she would have held a parade, or a celebratory ball, perhaps. At home, she would have performed as an act of her final passing into adulthood. Here, when she had reached her nineteenth birthday, the day had almost been the same.

( She wonders how Ylisse would celebrate this day. Would there be a parade? A ball? Even the smallest celebration? Mayhaps, because there, she is a princess. Here, the title remains buried only to the faith and reminder of close relatives, those of a stature and culture she does not recognize. )

But no matter, because today, her heritage matters only in the way she wishes for it to. For every birthday she’s ever lived to celebrate, the Heroine of Darkness, daughter of the Chosen One has indulged herself in whichever she desired. Pomegranate dishes, sweet and full, for breakfast? The creation of flower crowns for an hour or two? Maybe she could devote a few moments of the day to write letters for those beloved back home. The list of recipients would be long, yes indeed. The young members of the former army, her second parent, the children of her deeprealm— no longer children now, she must remind herself. Maybe she could write to herself of future’s time.

( How would she start it? “Greetings Crimson Ophelia of many moons,”? The thought of an older her finding the letter useless is too much a burdened thought to bear. People change as they grow. Even though now, twenty-years-old and kicking her feet beneath her vanity, there are only minor changes to see, they are still present.

Fourteen-year-old Ophelia stuttered, bit her gloves in nervousness, and cried whenever darkness shrouded her. How would she react? How would she see her now? )

A shrug is all his body answers to the questions in his head. Ophelia rises from his vanity seat and stretches his arms above his head, awaiting the quick pull of joints and tension. There was no use to schedule the day before it even began. The moment he steps out of his room, the push and pull of the day will fall into the hands of fate. Maybe Ophelia can use this occasion as enough reason to withdraw peers and friends from the depths of class. Surely, they would rather spend the day with him, walking aimless until something cradles his attention and interest.

Bedroom door swings open and, with the testing pull of his cape, the Hero of Darkness, son to the Chosen One, leaves the warmth of the room. He will seek out the company of friends, peers, and foes alike. For today and many moons to come after: one skip at a time, Father would protest.

Still, on their desk, lies a letter unfinished and stained with blotches of pasted ink. A letter to everyone and no one. A letter for him and not. The only audience to its existence will be him and the stars. Yes, them. A letter to them, one of gratitude.

One still unfinished.

[lovestoned-ophelia]

I haven’t read ‘The Bad’ since @bisexual-horror-fan posted it, (bc I literally broke down for a while) but re-reading it after being in this fandom for months IS ALMOST FUCKING WORSE! The emotions this gives me—

I have to wake up in four hours, why did I do this to myself?? I’m??? Sobbing??? This whole fic sparks joy, and gives me life, Bex.

[erosology]

if könig was in his 20s it wouldn’t be nearly as fun imagining him sobbing beneath us - 🐇

people are so afraid to make him older and idk why. what’s more attractive than having an older, more experienced, weathered man under your boot begging for you? yes, it’s fun to imagine him as a shy little virgin who has never felt the touch of a woman and cums in his pants if you look at him a certain way. but to also imagine him as someone with confidence that’s only earned with age, someone who has seen the world and knows what he wants from it, someone who knows what he needs in a partner, and finds it all and more in the way you coo down his name as you overstimulate him?

now THAT is *chef’s kiss*

[isaut]

𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒐 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒊.— dehya x fem!reader. 800. drabble.

i’ve been reading a lot of fantasy lately and am so obsessed with humans falling in love with elves. just a quick drabble whipped up on my phone! a bit angsty, elven!reader, bodyguard!dehya. implied (as in you have to squint) cynonari. no beta but i have a feeling ill be returning to this idea once i finish another fic i’m working on. minors and blank blogs dni. fantasy au tag

The war room is quiet, now that the king with his advisors and his generals had left. You stand above the map of the lands, arms crossed instead of your hands folded neatly in front of you. Now that royalty has left, you let yourself forego the formalities.

“You’re always so cold,” comes a familiar voice.

Instead of snapping yourself back to your proper formation, you continue looking over the maps.

“Is there a different way you want me to act?” You inquire.

Dehya pushes herself off the wall she had been leaning against, bronzed armor clicking as she walks further in.

You spare a glance over your shoulder. “Don’t you have a king to protect?”

“He wanted some time alone in the conservatory to meditate,” Dehya responds, “To get his mind off this.” She gestures toward the board.

You huff through your nose. “Meditate?”

Dehya shrugs. “I don’t question what the king wants. If he wants to be left alone he can be— He’s as fine a fighter as I am.”

You hum. “Did you check to make sure it was safe before leaving him alone?”

“Is it not warded?” Dehya responds.

“There are two people in there,” You reply, “Which was why I was asking.”

“I know,” Dehya replies. “You never answered my question.”

“What, if the conservatory is warded, or the one about me being cold?” You ask, turning to finally look at her.

“You indirectly answered the first, I was asking why you’re so cold,” Dehya says. “You’re not as bad when you’ve had a bit in your system.”

“I’m working, so it’s in my nature to be cold.”

“You frighten even the generals.”

“And I don’t frighten you?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ve huddled for warmth before, it’s hard to feel frightened of an elf after she’s slept instead of trance in your arms.”

You take a deep breath. “It’s cold in Dragonspine. My body needed the rest, lest it shut down.”

Dehya hums at that. “You could loosen up a bit, that’s all.”

“I spent my first few hundred years ‘loosened up’ and it left me counseling a child on where to send his troops,” You reply. “So I won’t be loosening up.”

Dehya’s expression falls soft. “[First]…”

Your gaze snaps back to hers. “Dehya.”

“Why don’t you come out tonight. Just for one drink and then you can go do whatever it is you do at night. We’re all stressed out.”

“I don’t get drunk,” You reply.

“You do, off whatever that liquor you keep stashed,” Dehya replies. “Staring at a map isn’t going to change anything.”

You cast a gaze towards the war map. “Neither is drinking.”

“You need to get out of here,” Dehya says, voice barely above a whisper. “C’mon.”

She places her hand on your shoulder, which you immediately shrug off, almost violent in your rejection.

“Please don’t.” Your swallow is thick. “Please…”

Dehya sighs, dropping her hand back to her side. “I don’t care about that.”

That. The fact you’ll outlive her, outlive her children should she take any in, outlive their children.

“I care about that.” You can feel your throat beginning to close in. “I— I have to care.”

“So what, you’re just going to be alone for the rest of your life? Sounds like a shitty way to spend eight hundred years, Ophie.”

You squeeze your eyes shut at the nickname. Your heart does a thousand beats in your chest, pounding its way up to your chest.

“Don’t remind me,” You breathe. “Don’t remind me how long I have here.”

“You know you’ll love again,” Dehya continues. “But this is it for me— you know I only have maybe twenty years before I’m cut down. And— There’s no one else I care to know the way I know you.”

You’re silent, unable to meet Dehya’s eyes.

“Whatever. You always know where to find me. Whenever you’re ready. Just know you don’t have as much time as you think.”

The meeting around the war map weighs heavy on Dehya’s words.

“I’ll see you at the tavern,” Dehya finishes, heading towards the door. The large doors open with a creak and shut with a slam.

You stand in the echo of it. Your knuckles whiten as you grip the edge of the table, collecting yourself.

“Fuck,” you curse to yourself in your mother tongue as you wipe away the tears that leak out of your eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

But you collect yourself and exit the war room, heading towards your chambers on the far side of the palace. You dress for town, placing a vial of elven elixir that had been a gift smuggled in by the king for writing an exception into the conservatory wards.

Not wanting to make your visit to town known to the entire palace, you open a swirling portal in your bedroom. With one last gaze through your mirror, you pull your cloak over your head to hide your ears, and step through.

[raccooncrafts]

wowowow hi‼️(It's Toby/cc!Tubbo)

What you'll find on this account:

Stimboards(maybe)

Dreamsmp related nonsense

Fanfic drabbles

us sobbing at fanfics

__

Collective name is Ophie or Sylvester

Part of a system!

Bodily a minor

Transmasc, xenogender, and gay

Use he/him and any neos!!

We use I/me and we/us interchangeably

__

Some of our interests include:

-Hamilton

-Minecraft(DSMP and we're starting Hermitcraft![not toxic fan of either!])

-SCP

-Batim

-Babqftim

-Marble hornets

-Cod

__

We usually watch:

-Tommyinnit

-Ranboo

-StarBoiBlue

-Jschlatt

-Daz Games

-Imbrandonfarris

__

Random things!:

-we really like cheesecake!

-We write fanfiction!

[callilouv]

ok got it. give me like 20ish minutes and i will be back in your inbox with a white knight drabble <333

THNAK U FIR THE WHITE KNIGHT FOOD ILY OPHI

[teapotauror]

kinda wanna write drabbles,

if anyone has any ideas they want to throw at me go ahead

i kinda wanna have some involve ophi tho

[lemonlamblaura]

just a cuphead drabble below the cut, move along

“Daddy!!!”

Cagney Carnation snapped awake from his nap in less than a second, searching for the tiny voice that had called out for him. It didn’t take him long to see his youngest daughter, a white orchid named Ophelia. She was crawling towards him, her roots dragging behind her as she could not walk yet. The poor girl was crying and a small bump was forming on her head.

“Daddy!” Ophelia wailed again, “Danny hit me!”

Cagney scooped the tiny girl up in his leaves as his sap began to boil. He had instructed Danny to watch over Ophelia while he rested. Danny had nearly thrown a tantrum, but he knew his other sister, Paula, would rather be by herself than watch after the family baby. Cagney hadn’t expected the boy to grow so frustrated with his little sister. But that’s the problem with trusting teenagers with things: they just do what they want.

“DANNY!” Cagney roared as Ophelia continued to cry. “Get your butt over here now!”

A yellow daffodil appeared over the nearby hill. Danny, the eldest child, approached with a sour expression and Cagney could imagine that he was trying to come up with an excuse for what happened. The twins, Marty and Morty, two bright orange marigolds, followed behind him. They at least looked a little guilty. “It’s not my fault! She got in the way! She’s just being a baby as usual!”

“Ophy said you hit her,” Cagney growled, patting Ophelia on the back. She had stopped crying, but was still sniffling and whimpering a little. “Explain what happened.”

Danny glowered at his father. He could see that the carnation wasn’t going to listen to a thing he said. He crossed his arms and looked away, refusing to speak. Thankfully, his brothers spoke up for him.

“We were just playing baseball,” explained Marty. “Ophy was looking at a caterpillar, she wasn’t doing anything.”

“I threw a dirt clod to Danny for him to hit,” continued Morty. “But I guess he hit it wrong, and Ophy turned around and it smacked her in the forehead.”

“I didn’t hit it wrong! Don’t you blame this on me!”

“That’s enough.” Cagney’s serious tone forced all the children to look at him. He was quiet for a moment, thinking about what to do. Danny certainly didn’t mean to hit Ophelia, but it happened, and now it seemed like he would never own up to it unless Cagney did something. “Danny, apologize to your sister.”

“What?! But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You may not have meant it, but you hit her and you must apologize.”

“Heya, kiddos!”

Everyone looked up to see a bright blue ghost flying towards them. Cagney quietly breathed a sigh of relief. The Blind Specter was always showing up unannounced, but this time he was thankful. If he couldn’t make Danny do something, then Specter definitely could. He was carrying a brown sack, no doubt full of gifts for the children that he’d bought on the many stops around the Inkwell Isles. Specter worked on a train that travelled throughout the islands, gathering the dead to bring them to the underworld. He didn’t come around too often, but when he did he was always full of smiles, especially for the kids.

“Uncle Specter!” the kids cried. They were probably just as excited to see the ghost as Cagney was. And why not? They were getting presents. Cagney was going to get a present too, but not anything materialistic like the children. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen another adult, and being around Specter made him feel so, so wonderful.

“Hi, everybody!” Specter grinned, floating down to the ground to be more level with the young flowers. Ophelia began to wriggle out of Cagney’s grasp and he set her down. She rushed to the front of the crowd, tears gone and forgotten. “Let’s see, one, two… Hey! Where’s miss Paula?”

A cheerful voice called from above, “Up here, Uncle!” Seconds later, a small poppy fell into the ghost’s arms with a big grin on her face.

“Ah! Paula! I haven’t been that scared since I died!” Specter set her down as the children giggled. “I got some presents for you kids! Ah, ah, you know the rules, babies first!” Ophelia crawled up front with stars in her eyes. “Aww, little Ophy. For you, a little friend to play with.” Specter reached into his bag and pulled out a fluffy teddy bear with a big purple bow around his neck. Ophelia squealed and grabbed the toy, hugging it tight. “No need to say thank you, baby. I thought you’d like it.

“Now for Paula,” he pulled out a magnifying glass from his bag. “Thought you could use this to examine everything around here.” Paula took the item with a polite thank you. She loved looking at anything and everything around the family tree, especially if those things happened to be dead and decaying. “And for the boys, here’s a couple treats!” He handed each of the twins a thick wad of bubble gum. “Don’t swallow it or it’ll mess up your insides.”

Specter reached inside his bag one last time. “Hmm, I could’a sworn I had something in here for someone… Oh well! See you later!”

Danny looked so offended that Cagney almost burst into laughter. “Hey! What about me?!”

The ghost gave a hearty laugh before turning back to the family. “Aw, calm down! You know I wouldn’t forget about you, Dan!” Specter took out a real baseball from his bag. Danny took it, a shocked expression on his face. He looked up at the ghost and tried to say something, but his words caught in his throat. “Thank you. Those are the words you’re looking for.” The boy nodded quietly, holding the ball against his chest. Specter turned to Cagney. “And I didn’t forget you, Daddy!” The ghost flew up and planted a huge kiss on the flower’s lips.

“Some gift,” Cagney teased. “I can’t save it for later.”

“Oh, you’ll be getting something later,” the ghost smirked knowingly.

“Why wait? Give it to me right now.”

“In front of the kids?! I love it when you get raunchy!”

“Well, maybe they’ll learn something important.”

“Like what?” Paula broke in.

Cagney and Specter realized what they were saying and blushed furiously. The carnation used his leaves to gently push the children away. “Go play.”

The children shrugged and left, all except for Ophelia. She looked up at the two innocently. “Like what?” she echoed.

Thankfully, Specter was quick to think of a solution to their problem. “Hey, Ophy! Let’s go for a ride, whadaya say?”

Ophelia giggled and stretched her leaves out to the ghost. Specter gathered her into his arms and took off, zooming through trees and bushes while the little girl squealed with delight.

I think I’ve forgotten something, Cagney thought. Oh well, he would worry about it later. With Ophelia taken care of and the older children playing on their own, he settled down against the family tree again, letting himself slowly fall back to sleep.