#or at least the kind of thing I remember seeing in people’s kitchens lol

[hughjackmansbicep]

Delicate

a/n: hi friends!!!! im hoping to make this into a multi part series, got lots planned for this mini fic :))))) this is kind of the prolouge to the real deal, needed to get the setup for it started before we divulge. expect lots of twists n turns my friends!

Pairing: Logan Howlett X F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: uhhhhh none lol

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: The government has successfully began the eradication of all mutant species in the United States. Lucky for you your dad has taken careful precautions to protect you from the evil that lurks in the streets outside. Tucked away in a concealed basement you sat and rotted away clinging to your old life and dreams. What happens when one day you've got a severe hankering for some ice cream and he ran out of beer the same night? Both finding yourselves in the right place at the right time.

The world as you knew it was slowly coming to an end. Mutants everywhere were dropping like flies after the government slowly started poisoning everyone's food. Unless you were an off-grid loner living off the land, you succumbed to the same fate as everyone else, 6 feet under. Lucky enough for you, your father kept you pretty sheltered. Tucked away in your fully renovated basement, the world is ignorant of your existence. It was safer this way; I mean, sure, you missed going out to bars and seeing your friends; hell, you even missed those 8 a.m. bio classes you used to take. But this was safer; at least that's what your father always preached. “It’s safer down here, away from all those evil people.” He'd remind you every day, “You're to never leave my site, kiddo, and never step outside those doors.” Not like you could anyways, while your mutation allowed you to control the atoms around you and morph them into anything your heart desired, you had one weakness, adamantium. Your house was coated in it; every doorknob, lock, and even the goddamn windows were coated in the shit. 

It was 3:00am, no one was home, and you found yourself craving ice cream. It wasn't uncommon for your dad to leave you to your own vices. He still had a job he'd have to attend to, and that more often than not led you to solidarity on his trips. And here you were in the middle of the night, the light from the fridge illuminating the dimly lit kitchen, tearing your freezer apart hoping to magically find a pint of Ben and Jerry’s buried deep in the frost. You groan, sinking down to your knees, met with disappointment and an ever-growing craving for the sweet, delicious taste of The Tonight Dough. Sure, you could've totally put in an Uber Eats order, but where would the fun in that be? You stood in front of the adamantium-cladded door, using all your strength to melt it to the ground, but to no avail. The only thing between you and your Jimmy Fallon-adorned ice cream was some space metal, and to hell if your dad really thinks that's going to curve the urge.

For the next hour, you ran around the house like a lunatic looking for a weak point. Maybe your father missed just one spot—one tiny spot in this prison he calls a home. A small hole fit for the size of a mouse teased you. Sure, you control all the atoms around you but your own? You'd never even attempted to entertain that idea, although the worst that could happen is you turn your body into a permanent pile of slop. That didn't sound too terrible when compared to being a basement dweller for the last 7 years. And it turns out it wasn't as bad as you'd thought; you melted your body down into a pile of liquid, slithering your way through the walls of your house before you were spit out from a hole in the bricks. The air on your skin cascaded goosebumps along your body; you honestly couldn't remember the last time you felt wind grace your skin or the sun illuminating off your shoulders. 

You skipped happily toward the corner store, taking in every sound around you. The sound your feet made when they hit the pavement, the distant chatter of the locals crowding down the sidewalks, even the obnoxious sound of a car horn brought a smile to your face. You finally understood the saying, ‘the city that never sleeps.’ You reached the corner store, swinging the door open and prancing inside as if it were Disney World. Your happy fantasy faded as the man behind the register yelled at you to put some shoes on before walking into his store. You looked down, wiggling your free toes, with all the excitement of liquifying yourself to get a taste of the outside world, common societal rules had slipped your mind. “I um.. Just came to grab a pint of ice cream; I’ll be really quick, I promise.” You pleaded sheepishly, offering him a quick smile to butter him up a bit. He simply rolled his eyes in disgust and turned his back to you, mumbling something under his breath.

You made your way around the convenience store towards the dairy section when something, or rather someone, caught your attention. He looked tall, and even with a leather jacket on, you could tell he was huge. He had some silly-looking facial hair and even sillier-looking cat-ear-like hair, but man, he still looked good. Your eyes slowly traveled down his arms to his pants. Cute butt, you thought to yourself. He stifled a laugh before turning in your direction and saying, “Thank you.” He grumbled, turning back towards the beer cooler. “What?” You ask, heat rising to your cheeks once you realize you'd accidentally said that out loud. He didn't acknowledge you, just went back to scanning the cooler. You took that as a hint to keep moving, finally landing in front of the ice cream section and grabbing the last pint of your favorite ice cream. Carefully looking around to make sure nobody was watching you, you pulled the lid off and used your mutation to pull out all the atoms belonging to the anti-mutant poisons that were mixed in with the delicious sweet treat. Floating above the ice cream, you cautiously manipulated them into a different container of food and made your way back towards the front. What you didn't know was that the unfortunate corner store owner had been watching your freak act on the CCTV cameras the whole time.

Turning around one of the aisles, you had spotted two men in suits talking to the man upfront. You couldn't make out what was being said as they whispered, but watching him point to you using your mutation on the TV screen explained enough to you. You backed up slowly, trying to even your breaths out before you had a panic attack. You felt someone grab your shoulder, spinning you around into them. It was Mr. Cute Butt; he must be working with those suited men too. Your eyes go wide as you focus all your energy on him. You were attempting to melt him, freeing yourself from his grasp, but it wasn't working for some reason. He just stared at your brows laced together, trying to figure out what in the fuck were you doing. “You're going to shit yourself if you keep straining like that.” He whispered a low chuckle, following after.

You froze, looking up at the man with pleading eyes. “Please don't hurt me; I just wanted some ice cream. Please i'll leave right now, sir.” You rushed out searching his face for sympathy or remorse something in hopes he'd release his grasp on you. He looked confused at what you were saying to him as if you were speaking some foreign language, but that didn't last long once you two heard footsteps approaching you. “C’mon kid.” He grumbled out, dragging you by your arm, ducking in between the small isles towards the exit. “They're over here!” The man upfront yelled, and the mystery man beside you just groaned before scooping you up into his arms and rushing you out of the store. You both quickly fell into the crowd, blending into the sea of people that populated the streets of New York. As soon as you two were outside, he'd set you on your feet, his arm still gripping your wrist, dragging you through the city with him.

“I need to go home, sir; please don't hurt me. I'm so sorry.” You cried, tears adorning your cheeks as you pleaded with him; if your father knew what was transpiring at this very moment, you'd be toast. Absolutely never allowed outside your basement ever again; you could kiss the sun goodbye because you'll probably never see it again once he gets home. He ignored your pleas though as he pushed through the crowds to a parked motorcycle on the road. “Oh no, I am not getting on that thing.” You halted your movements, digging your heels into the ground. “Suit yourself, sweet cheeks.” He laughed at you dryly hopping onto the bike, “They'll find you eventually.” He kicked the stand up, revving the bike on. You looked through the crowd behind you, worry etching onto your face. Maybe he's right; maybe I should hop on that bike and ride it into the sunset with this beautiful specimen, or he's no better than those suited men and could ultimately be leading me to my death. “Just get on the fucking bike.” He growled at the sound of sirens roaring closer to you two.

Begrudgingly, you hopped onto the back of the bike, plopping the helmet latched behind you on your head. At this rate, your sure your dad is going to skin you alive and hang you up to dry. “Hang on tight, princess.” He turned around to smirk at you. You snaked your hands around his torso, and he took off, the force causing your face to smash into his back and your grip on him tightening. You were sure if you had been gifted some form of super strength, you would've popped his torso clean off his legs with how tight you were squeezing him. You attempted to give him directions back to your house, but he couldn't hear you and kept heading in the opposite direction. He totally could hear you too, but he was ignoring your requests to return you home.

The quick 15-minute drive felt like an eternity with how utterly petrified you were. Matter of fact, you were so scared, eyes clenched shut, arms squeezing all the oxygen out of his lungs, you hadn't even noticed that you'd arrived at your mystery destination. He pried your arms off him, causing you to open your eyes; you were in complete shock. A gorgeous castle-like building stood before you, surrounded by trees, and a long gravel driveway trailed in front of it. A voice broke you from your thoughts, but this sound didn't come from the man sitting in front of you; no, it appeared like it came straight from inside your head. 'Logan, would you please introduce me to your new friend? The voice sang through you, your head whipping around frantically to find the owner of these words. “C’mon, I got someone for you to meet.” The man in front of you finally spoke, helping you off the bike and placing the helmet back in its spot on the rear. He guided you through the mansion all the way to the back, stopping at two huge double wooden doors.

“Come in, please.” Rang the same voice you heard earlier, the double doors slowly opening before you to reveal a small, bald man sitting in a chair. “And who might this be, Logan?” He questioned, looking towards the big man next to you. Logan, huh, you thought to yourself, cute name and a cute butt. Logan awkwardly shifted beside you, the bald man sending a booming laugh throughout the room. “Oh my God.. Did I say that out loud?” You whispered heat rising to your cheeks once again. Ignoring you, Logan started explaining to the bald guy, whose name you quickly learned was Charles, what happened earlier. Logan had seen what you were doing in that small store—how you made some substance float out of the ice cream and back into another pint. He assumed you were attempting to do something similar to that when he had grabbed you, and you began shaking like a Chihuahua, yet all you could think about during their discussion of the previous events was how you never got to eat the ice cream you risked your whole life for. “So,” Charles spoke, directing his attention to you. “What can you do exactly? What were you doing with that ice cream?” He hummed his eyes, raking you up and down, studying all your features. hoping they might tell him about who you are.

You were fairly normal-looking; I mean, to the average human eye, they couldn't tell you apart from another human. You felt like a deer in headlights right now, though; you'd never been asked or questioned about your mutation. You never dared to speak about it aloud; hell, your dad wouldn't even let you use your powers ever; it's like he was ashamed of you. “I can... manipulate things, i guess.” You spoke quietly; it felt taboo to you to speak about this, like this was some intimate, inappropriate topic to discuss. “And what do you mean by that?” He mused, deeply interested in your mystery. “I’m not exactly sure, sir. I just know I can do this.” You focus your eyes on the pen sat upon his desk, watching it quickly fall into a liquid puddle. “Fascinating.” Charles smiled up at you, “Can you change it back?” You trained your eyes down on the mess you created, quickly blinking as it slowly morphed back into its original shape of a pen.

Charles laughed in amusement before clasping his hands together. “We have much to discuss, little one, but for now Logan will show you to a room you can rest in. We'll talk more tomorrow.” He nodded at you before Logan had turned around out the door. You took this as your sign to follow, doors shutting behind you both. He guided you up the stairs, stopping at a random white door and handing over a towel and toothbrush he'd picked up on the way to your room. “Just try and get some sleep.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “I’m just up the hall if you need anything, i guess.” He nodded his head in the direction of his door. You just smiled, turning around into your room and softly closing your door. 

You had no clue where the fuck you were or what these strange men were planning to do with you. You've heard the horror stories from your dad about how the government would poke and prod you if anyone knew what you could do. you'd be a test subject for rich white males to toy and play with. You'd set the towel and toothbrush down on a chair in the room you were assigned and slowly stalked your way to the bed. As you crawled into bed attempting to get some shut eye all that you could think to yourself was, "Man my dad is soo going to fucking kill me when he finds me."

[vampireloverz]

can't help it, i want you

pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem! reader

words: 3.1k

cw/tw: infidelity (reader cheats on an unnamed boyfriend with bakugou), best friends to lovers, quirkless au, oral (f → receiving), unprotected sex, size difference, light choking (bakugou → receiving), reader and bakugou are kind of messed up people lol, unhealthy relationships

You coming over to Bakugou’s apartment isn���t unusual but your visits have slightly dwindled since you got a boyfriend. He can't help the sour expression that blooms on his face when he reminds himself of that fact. 

You’ve told Bakugou his name at least five times now but he’s never bothered remembering it. This fling won't last past the summer, he thought when you told him you were seeing someone. Not that he didn’t think you weren’t great, he just figured you’d realize you can do better. But September is suddenly nearing its end and you’re still going steady. 

Bakugou shakes off the thought. Now, at least, you’re sat beside him, no boyfriend in sight.

The routine is easy as ever; you bring alcohol he likes and you tolerate, he wrinkles his nose at your choice of pizza toppings but orders it the way you ask for (he always fights a smile when you kiss his cheek as a thank you), and you both pick a movie.

But you’re too pretty tonight, he has one too many drinks, and the glimmer of cinnamon sugar from the dessert on your lips is all too tempting.

You’re in the kitchen when he kisses you. Well, when he tries to.

He leans into you, heart aching at the domesticity of you knowing your way around his apartment, but you turn your face. Bakugou’s lips graze your ear as he leans his weight onto you, the two of you end up with your faces pressed cheek to cheek.

“What are you…?” you let him press you against a counter, his hands finding your sides.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bakugou mumbles.

“Katsuki,” you sigh, voice tinged with something he can’t place.

He wishes he had figured out his feelings for you before some other guy asked you out, he has no one to blame but his own emotional constipation. It's only been a few months but your new boyfriend is smitten, he doesn’t blame the guy. And Bakugou can see why you like him, sort of. He’s cookie-cutter handsome, nice to the point that it’s annoying, and Bakugou hates him.

He still wishes, wants, waits. He’s been waiting, and the wanting and wishing have grown into a dull ache that swells each time he sees you.

“Do you really like him?” the question tastes bitter in his mouth, the only thing that might be worse is if you say yes.

In the following silence he takes his answer, finding the courage to lift his head and kiss you. He knows this is bad— but fuck, you kiss him like you want him too, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. Your tongue glides against his own and he groans into your mouth, blood singing in his veins like this is the first time he’s truly come alive. 

You pull back suddenly, panting like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, “Wait, Bakugou—”

His body pressed against yours feels right, both of you seem to slot together perfectly, “I like you.”

“Katsuki,” you say again, his name sounds best when you say it, “Don’t say that.”

He doesn’t speak, but he presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw, light and sweet. He wishes he could say he loves you.

“We can’t,” you whisper, voice wobbling ever so slightly.

He waits, breathing you in. You don’t move away.

Bakugou has to dig deep to find it in himself to take a step back. Then another, again and again until there’s respectable distance between you two. When your eyes meet, his stomach twists with shame.

Your expression softens after a moment, “I should go.”

Bakugou makes a noise that’s closer to a growl than he’d like to admit, but it makes you laugh, the tension in the room slightly eased. You pat his cheek on your way past him, lifting up on your toes to kiss him quick, then you’re out the door. The press of your lips is chaste and fleeting, but it’s more than he expected. 

It’s been a short while since you’d seen each other, even your text conversations have dwindled to almost nothing. The morning after the… incident, he’d texted you something apologetic and vague, never working up the nerve to double down on his feelings. You’d sent him back something sweet and placid, something that made him wonder if you’d be so forgiving if he’d ever kiss you again.

Despite his text, he’s not sorry in the slightest. He got to kiss you, hold you, even for a short while. 

At least a few times a week Bakugou finds his cock leaking and stubbornly hard in his hand when his thoughts drift to the feel of your lips on his, your soft little moan when he’d slid his tongue along yours. He has to dig his teeth into his pillow so his neighbors won’t hear him groaning out your name in the dead of night, making a mess all over his stomach and hand.

Having the same circle of friends makes seeing each other again inevitable. Especially when Mina is hosting, something festive and autumnal fit for a mid October party. And she expects everyone to be there— to be fair, her parties are worth it. 

Seeing your boyfriend’s arm around your waist for hours though? Definitely not worth the free booze and food. It’s infuriating, and it doesn’t help that you look damn good tonight. Jeans on the right side of too tight, lips shiny with something sparkly— he isn’t drunk enough to deal with this.

Your boyfriend ducks down for a kiss but you full on dodge, his lips don’t even have the chance to graze your cheek. Bakugou has to bite his tongue to not bark out a laugh.

My gloss, he reads your lips and knows your voice is whiny even though he can’t hear it. If he was your boyfriend right now, he’d kiss you until your stupid gloss disintegrated. 

He stares down into his beer when he hears the tinkling of your laughter across the room. There's no way your boyfriend is that funny. Frustration begins to bubble into irritation and Bakugou realizes he doesn’t have it in him to pretend to be cordial tonight, he hopes the walk home will cool him down. Bakugou downs the rest of his drink and tells Kirishima not to wait up, then he’s out the door.

He doesn’t make it more than a block before he hears your voice calling out for him.

It takes two shouts of his name for him to finally turn, hands in his jacket pockets and the best surly expression he can muster as you approach, a half jog that is slightly slowed by your heavy boots.

“Katsuki,” the way you’re panting reminds him of the last time he saw you, breathing nearly as heavily with his hands on your hips— “What the hell? You left without saying bye.”

He has to turn his head to the side to rip his eyes away from your parted lips, “Don’t feel good. ‘M goin’ home.”

You finally catch up to him, coming in close to put your hand on his bicep and search under his bangs for his eyes, “What’s wrong?”

Something electric passes through him at the point of contact and he tries not to think so hard about how much time has passed since you’d last touched.

His lips twitch into a smile at your worry, “Go back to the party, have some fun.”

You huff, “I didn’t even get to talk to you.”

He gives you a look, brows furrowed.

“I came tonight to…” 

To see you, hangs heavy in the air. The long eye contact touches on awkward, heated, your hand is still on his arm.

“Can I walk you to your place?” he spits out, fumbling to fix himself he hurriedly adds, “Unless, uh, your boyfriend minds.”

“He’s getting a cab.”

“So?”

“So walk me home.”

The curve of your smile is sweet and easy but your eyes have glint in them that’s far too knowing. Something flutters in his stomach, he nods, “C’mon.”

You kissed him. Bakugou is sure of that. Mostly sure, anyway.

He’d walked you home as promised, no funny business. Both of you platonically catching up, until you invite him in— want a drink, Katsuki?— with that same sweet smile, and now he’s got his hands up your shirt and your tongue in his mouth. Your tacky gloss smears onto his lips, something tinged with artificial sweetness that spreads over his tongue like cheap candy.

“Does it feel this good when he kisses you?”

His question goes ignored as you chase his lips with a groan of frustration when he doesn’t give you what you want. You huff and grab the front of his shirt, holding him steady as you pout up at him.

“Does it matter?”

Bakugou grins, that’s all the answer he needs.

“Nah,” he concedes as he unclasps your bra, “It doesn’t.”

The only other question he asks is if it’s alright to take off your underwear, his grin growing wider when you give him an enthusiastic yes.

You make a noise in your throat, something close to a whimper when his fingers pet down your slit, “Fuck, Katsuki, what are we doing?”

Bakugou almost laughs at your tone. Guilt. Guilty, but not showing signs of wanting to stop his fingers pumping in and out of you. Guilty, but your cunt gets wetter when he thumbs at your clit.

Not guilty enough, maybe not guilty at all.

Guilt, or lack thereof, becomes the least of his worries when you start to beg for his mouth on your cunt. The moment he drops to the floor he’s sure his knees will bruise but can’t find it in himself to care. Bakugou turns his face to bite at the softness of your thighs, groaning at the warmth of your body. You whine for him, his tongue, and your hands are in his hair, tugging insistently.

As much as he wants to get you off, he needs to memorize you first. He leaves sloppy kisses down your leg until his face is pressed against the seam of your thigh and hip. Bakugou can’t help it, he sucks in a deep breath, the heady scent of you makes his eyes roll back.

You squirm and pull his hair again, “Come on, perv,” but your tone is affectionate.

He gives in, adjusting so your thighs press around his ears as he licks a fat stripe up your pussy. The taste of you is sweet and bitter and better than all of his fantasies because it’s you. You’re soaking his face and he loves it, he can’t help but touch himself as he laves his tongue over your clit, following the rhythm of your rolling hips. 

Bakugou honest to God moans at the way your pussy twitches when you cum, his cock throbbing as he wonders what it would feel like to have you cumming around him. When he finally recognizes your moans aren’t wordless, his balls tighten and twitch— he’s cumming because you’re moaning his name.

Your moans quickly become overstimulated whines when Bakugou redoubles his efforts, arms curling around your thighs as he works his mouth over your cunt. He needs to make you cum again, he just has to, he might never get to feel your twitching clit on his tongue again. Your hands in his hair turn painful but he likes it, loves the feel of you shuddering as your first orgasm rolls into the next, your taste and moans even sweeter the second time.

He rests his forehead on your trembling thigh, eyes closed and trying to regain some composure while he catches his breath. He doesn’t know how he’s going to act as if he hadn’t just lived through one of his top three fantasies. Neither of you move for a long while, nothing but the sound of deep breaths and ambient noise from outside.

Eventually, his legs start getting pins and needles, so he finally rises. He thinks you’re asleep for a moment but you blink your eyes open, looking like it takes great effort to do so.

“Hey,” you whisper, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

He bends down to kiss you, breath catching when your tongue traces the seam of his lips, licking away the taste of you. Your smile doesn’t budge when he pulls away.

His voice is hoarse when he tells you, “I’m gonna head home,” even though all he wants to do is curl up beside you and sleep with you in his arms.

“No, hey, I’m—” you yawn long and hard enough for him to chuckle, “I’m up, I’m up.”

Bakugou nudges your cheek with his knuckles, “You’re gonna pass out any minute now.”

“Stay,” you whisper, pulling him to sit beside you on the bed.

“Sure,” he says easily, pleased you want to fall asleep with him there, “I’ll lock up on my way out.”

“No,” you protest, “Stay.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou swallows harshly, feels his brows furrow. This whole… hookup— affair? Can you call what just happened an affair? Whatever it was, it was a bad idea. He never wanted to make you a cheater.

His eyes trace over the curve of your hip, the empty space beside you on the bed, the look on your face that’s anything but regretful. 

“Yea, ‘course.”

Bakugou doesn’t know why he’s not really upset at being the other woman. Sure, you might have a boyfriend but you keep finding your way back to his place, finding your way underneath him. 

Sometimes, oftentimes, you have to reach over and silence your phone— both of you ignore the name on caller ID— and he tells himself that this guy is a temporary distraction for you, he’s got nothing on your ten years with him. Bakugou loved you first. Bakugou has loved you for longer. He’d let you shatter him into a million pieces just to feel your touch. He’d put himself back together just for the chance that you’d do it again.

It takes until mid-November for him to realize all the cliches and stereotypes are true, almost too movie-like. Late nights at work, lying by omission, sneaking out of parties (you go now, I’ll leave in ten minutes) to hook up in each other’s apartments or cars, hiding hickeys. He even finds himself cagey around his phone as if he’s the one with the boyfriend.

But beyond that he goes about his days like normal. Not an ounce of guilt as he waits for the next opportunity to see you. And somehow he doesn’t blame you. You’ll leave him soon, you told Bakugou yourself.

Somehow he doesn’t mind not being able to think clearly when you’re involved. He knows it’s fucked but can’t pretend to give a damn when your nails are scratching down his back and you’re moaning his name like he owns you.

There’s no way someone is knocking at his door at this hour. Bakugou burrows his face deeper into his pillow and ignores it. But the knocks come again, hurried and insistent. He groans and cracks an eye open to check his phone for the time.

2:54 AM

No notifications.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, determined to fall asleep again.

Another short burst of someone’s knuckles and he rises, trudging out of his bedroom with a scowl and determined to throttle whoever has woken him up. He rubs the heel of his palm into his eye as he opens the door, “Somebody better be fucking dead—”

He hardly has time to register that it’s you at his door before you’re kissing him. You’ve never kissed him out in the open like this, he doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss back, only pulling away when he remembers what time it is.

“Hey, what’s going—?”

“He dumped me,” you tell him. You’re grinning.

Bakugou sucks in a sharp breath then lets it out in a slow whisper, “Yea?”

Then you’re kissing him again, hands on his chest pushing him back into his apartment. The press of your lips holds a desperation he doesn’t remember being there before. He loves it.

The path to his bedroom is easy to follow, even in the dark, the two of you have done this dance more than enough times. Clothes fall by the wayside without so much as a word, you both know why you’re here. 

You’re where he likes you best; underneath him and waiting, wanting, wet because of him.

He needs to be inside you so badly, he can’t reach for a condom quickly enough. The bedside drawer is almost in reach but you grab his wrist and redirect it to your bare breasts, nipple hardening under his palm. Bakugou’s cock throbs when you shake your head at him, he thinks he might cum on the spot. 

“Gonna let me fuck you properly now?” he asks, voice steady like his desire for you isn’t strong enough to make even his bones ache.

“Yes,” you reply, and the word sounds a little bit like a sob.

He loses himself the moment he sinks his cock into the tight, wet clutch of you. Bare for the first time. You say something but he can’t hear it over his own heartbeat, too wrapped up in the way your cunt feels impossibly warm around him. 

“Fuck,” he groans, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing as he starts to move, “I missed you.”

You make a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan, your tits moving attractively with each thrust, “Me or my pussy?”

Bakugou’s head hangs between his shoulders, hair falling into his eyes as he barks out a rough laugh, “Yes— both— dunno.”

It feels even better to have you like this. Fucking you without a condom, yes, but knowing you have no obligations to anyone else.

Bakugou holds himself above you with his forearms on either side of your head. Close enough for your breaths to mix, close enough to kiss you until his head spins. He almost keens when you nip his bottom lip, he takes the sting of your teeth with pride.

“You’re mine,” you tell him, your hand curving around his neck. You squeeze, nails digging into his pulse, and the headrush makes him moan.

“Uh-huh,” he replies through a smile, voice strained when your hand tightens minutely, “Yours. All yours, baby, fuck—”

You grin at that, pulling him down for a kiss and wrapping your arms around him. He lets himself be pressed close, needing to feel your heart close to his.

“You mine, baby?” he asks, turning his face to kiss your arm.

You nod enthusiastically, “Yes! Yes, please, I’m gonna—”

“C’mon,” he grunts between hard thrusts, eager to feel you cum around his cock, “Say it, say it back.”

When you gasp and moan, “I’m yours!” Bakugou swears you mean it.

[monster-match-if]

*Staring at Ragnar with wide eyes (That have hearts in them if you look rreeeeeeeal close) and near drooling* He's, perfect. Hits all my boxes! Tall? YEP! Beard? Yyyup! Muscles? Yup! Family man? Seems it! (I'm assuming). Werewolf? YAS! Fulfills my kinks? HELL TO THE YES! AND he's a Chef??? Bonus Points~~~ He's so perfect i'm gonna die! Please Lovely Writer! A few questions if i may? 1. Does he also happen to ride a motorcycle? (Bonus if it's an older fashioned looking one. Think kinda Captain America's bike.) 2. How many kids is he wanting? Just one or two or is he a big family man? 3. Is he a gentle giant type? Looks big and scary but really a big softy? (But also not afraid to tear someone a new one if need be?) If you can't tell, i'm SO excited to play the demo whenever it comes out. Not just for Ragnar (but mostly), but for a couple other ROs also. Also yes, i am aware i was a bit overdramatic lol I hope it was entertaining to read

Hehe glad you like him 🤗💕 And yes, this was entertaining to read, especially as I find myself in some of the things you said 😂 And also yes, you assumed correctly that he'd be a family man 😛

1. Does he also happen to ride a motorcycle? (Bonus if it's an older fashioned looking one. Think kinda Captain America's bike.) I didn't consider this, but congrats, he now owns a vintage Harley-Davidson and actually his first job was as a mechanic. I picture Ragnar as liking the more manual jobs and fixing/preparing things with his hands. He was already going to mention a previous job as a carpenter in Chapter 1, the job he had before becoming a chef, but mechanic with a bike fits him like a glove, I'm making that the first job he ever got. Bonus, he'd be really great at fixing things around the house and the type of guy to make improvements for his partner. Like I remember seeing those incorporated step ladders in the kitchen counters, for shorter people to reach the top drawers. Those kind of things.

2. How many kids is he wanting? Just one or two or is he a big family man? He'd love a big family, but seeing as he's not the one carrying the baby he won't pressure MC into birthing an army. He'd be fine with 1, preferably at least 2. His personal limit would be around 5/6, just because he'd find it harder to spend quality time with more than that, but he'd also be fine if MC actually wanted more. He'd also make a great stay at home dad. And just a great dad in general, would love to cook for the kids, make them slides and tree houses and be passionate about things they'd be into. Ecstatic if any of them would be interested to learn stuff from him - cooking, carpentry, auto mechanics/tech.

3. Is he a gentle giant type? Looks big and scary but really a big softy? (But also not afraid to tear someone a new one if need be?) 100% He's generally calm and will be sweet around MC. Typically avoids confrontations, but if anyone ever disrespects MC, it's claws out! It'd probably the only time when he gets really angry.

[ratfuzz]

✫stan, eric and kenny with kitchen witch reader headcanons✫

a/n: kyle one!! finally got to other boys. there's a liiittle bit of suggestive theme and drug joke in kenny one. characters are aged up, reader is gender neutral

stan marsh

doesn't really care about you being a kitchen witch, be who you want to be, believe in what you want to believe

making him special coffee/tea every morning

he started to hate waking up early a bit less (or maybe it's just you being by his side)

he's a kisser, he's a hugger, so expect at least one kiss on a cheek while you cook (will not hug you when you do this without consent tho)

s o u p

make him soup

or make soup with him together, that's nice too

with something silly like veggies in shape of something or just chicken and star soup

you two sometimes fight about who's making breakfast today, but you know, this is not serious of course (either way you win even if he's the one cooking it for the most part)

helps you carve or burn sigils in spoons and things

i'd say he needs the same thing as kyle, something with anti-anxiety spell, but also something that generally will help him with sleep

eric cartman

you probably picked him up by making something with a love spell (it would be funnier if it was blood love spell with espresso, but it would work better with a cake)

lmao, you didn't even have to put a spell on it, he's probably hooked just by your cooking

if you tell him about the fact that you're a witch he'd act like this all is total bullshit, but then ask if you can make something poisonous (of course you can, but it doesn't have to do anything with you been a kitchen witch) or with a curse ((don't fucking do it, though he loves you, it doesn't mean he will not turn you in to cops if something goes wrong i didn't tell you this))

prefers your pastry, but basically loves everything you make

likes looking at you while you cook (will not help you)

even more curious about sigils than kyle

but in the way that he doesn't really trust you (don't blame him, there's a lot of reasons for him to not trust people)

making sigils with eric, so he knows for sure meaning of them

tbh he's really impatient when it comes to you cooking, he doesn't understand why you prefer to take your time with cooking even if you can make it faster and doesn't listen when you explain

at least it looks like it

can bring up something you said later and it kind of surprises you

tries to be less bitchy with you later on

definitely asks you to make something for him with specific sigil for it

kenny mccormick

if you will not make him kfc wings recreation, i will haunt you in your dreams

doesn't really have a preference in your cooking

kenny is most likely the only one of main 4 to remember everything you say about witchery (he's just generally a good listener i think)

would make some type of sigil for shits and giggles (maybe literally)

love spells with emphasis on better sex life aren't needed, lol, but he would totally ask you for this as part of roleplay

ate all your donuts with sugar powder and tried to get away with it by saying that powder on his clothes is cocaine

if you cook together, he will always be distracted by your beauty, sometimes it's better to just let him sit in the kitchen with you

really likes how aprons look on you

so yeah another reason to wear them

any kind spell will do, boy needs more nice things in his life

making forever weed brownies together <3

a/n: honestly, i thought i will never write anything for kenny. wow. cool. we'll see, maybe i will make one with girls or butters/marjorine idkidk

[sea-creature-things]

Grimwalker things

Chapter 4: Scales, more importantly, shedding

This is my offering to the huntlow shippers. I love those two so much. Writing their crush hell was incredibly fun.

Most people when they see ‘scales of a selkidomus’ they think of boiling water resistance, but I went in a different direction. Have fun lol.

For the next chapter I'm writing about a very popular headcanon about Stonesleepers, its gonna be angsty again :)

Also; TW for blood and description of injury. (It's not graphic but a warning just to be safe)

Read here below the cut or on AO3 with this link:

He remembered thinking it was normal when he was younger. It was just a thing that happened every few months. It was annoying, but not weird, or potentially unsettling to other people.

Until an extremely awkward conversation with Steve.

It was on a mission a few years ago, when he was 14. Hunter was ordered to capture a Snaggleback. The task itself wasn’t hard, but he needed backup for getting it back to the castle. So he’d called in the cavalry, Steve. He was Hunter’s favourite scout, even though he was practically glued to Lilith. Steve was never mean, he never tried to steal credit or gain favours.

On the way back Hunter found out shedding was in fact NOT a normal thing that happened. They were using an airship to easily transport the Snaggleback. His shedding day was very well-timed, he’d been scratching all day and the flight back home was no exception.

“Ugh! I hate it when my scars shed.” Hunter complained as he itched his arm. Steve had been eyeing his scratching for a while, but he hadn’t said anything. Now he turned to him confused.

“What?” The big hollow eyes of Steve’s mask stared directly at Hunter. Who thought he simply hadn’t heard him right.

“The shed. On scars.” Hunter tried to explain, he remembered thinking it was so obvious. “It always feels so weird.”

“Do you mean the scabs?” Steve continued to stare at him, this time Hunter looked at him in confusion. It was suddenly very quiet a thousand feet in the air. Even the Snaggleback had stopped its chittering.

“No?” Afraid that he said something wrong or stupid, Hunter decided to stop talking all together. He even ignored poor Steve when he asked more confused questions.

Since that day, his shedding became something to hide. He tried to find any kind of information about it in books from the healing coven. But that only confirmed that it was unnatural.

At least now he knew why it happened, but he had no idea how it all worked. Maybe the damage to his skin had exposed the Selkidomus scales underneath, or… in between?

He still didn’t fully understand what made him go from lose ingredients, to a fully formed witch-imitation. Maybe the wound had locally deactivated the magic? He didn’t know!

And it didn’t matter, because right now he needed an excuse, not the truth. Since, apparently, he had walked into the kitchen with a bleeding face!

Last night, when he’d gone to bed, the scar on his cheek was itchy. Which probably meant that he ripped his shed while sleeping. He hadn’t even felt the wound, or the blood dripping down his chin. He only noticed after Luz, Camila, Amity and Willow had collectively gasped the moment he walked in.

He was startled and still a little dazed from not being the first one up for a change. Of all the days to start sleeping in. He had actually been sleeping at night recently, for 8 hours even. But this was the first morning that the clock read 6:30 when he woke up. On a week day!

His friends had reassured him time and time again that sleeping in was no big deal. In fact, they wanted him to do it. But he was still nervous when he climbed the stairs that morning. Still, when he reached the top, nobody was impatiently waiting for him. Nobody scolded him or barraged him with an extra long list of demands.

His anxiety seemed to just wash away, and he felt very relaxed walking to the kitchen. He found Luz, Camila, Amity and Willow at the dinner table. They were having a cheerful conversation over breakfast. It was Wednesday so that breakfast consisted of toast and cereal.

He felt completely at ease. They were happy, the room was warm and inviting, the sun shone bright beams through the window. Everything felt just right. But when he walked in, their conversation stopped. They all gasped.

He had stupidly turned to them with a questioning look, like an idiot, a fool!

Amity clasped a hand over her mouth and Camila brought hers to her heart. Willow dropped her spoon in her cereal bowl and Luz pushed away from the table, standing up abruptly.

“What? What’s wrong?” He had asked bewildered. Again, like an idiot. Their looks of pure horror should've been a clue.

“Hunter… you’re bleeding.” Amity was the first to regain her composure. Her voice was laced with fear and her eyes matched it. But she wasn’t making eye-contact, her gaze was locked on his cheek.

“What?” Hunter touched his face in disbelief. Yup, there was definitely warm, sticky blood on his hand. How in the world did he not feel anything? How had he not noticed sooner?

“Oh.”

“OH?!” Luz yelled out mortified, it made him jump a little. Luz’s whole body was rigid with tension, her hands were slammed on the table. She seemed angry, but Hunter knew she was scared by the look in her eyes.

They had no idea what was going on. But… what could he possibly give as explanation?

“This just… happens sometimes.” He said with great difficulty. He hoped his obliviousness of the whole thing helped support his case.

“That doesn’t JUST happen!” Willow shouted even louder than his sister. Her hands gestured wildly above her bowl of cereal. She looked so concerned.

They all looked so worried, he couldn’t stand it.

“It’s fine, I swear!” He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to calm them down. They had rarely seen blood like this. He was freaking them out and he didn’t know what to do!

Hunter rushed over to the sink to wash the blood off his face and hands. He stumbled against the counter and gripped the edge. He could fix this. He had to somehow ease their minds.

The moment he saw the deep red smear on his hand he knew what was happening. And he also knew he could not tell them the truth. Shedding?! Normal people don't shed!

His fingers became fidgety and it took him a few tries to turn on the sink. His heartbeat was already going a million miles a second. His eyes darted all over the place, but he couldn't see Camila out of the corners. Was she still at the table? Did she leave? Was she walking over to him?

Was she worried? Was she angry? And what about Luz, Willow and Amity? They looked so scared.

His hands were shaking and refusing to cooperate. He used to have better hand-eye coordination than this, even when he was injured. The repetitive motion of washing became fumbled. Why wouldn’t it come off?

“Hunter, baby, you are not fine.” Camila said, her voice was gentle but stern. Hunter’s shoulders tensed up. She didn’t sound angry, but he still felt like he couldn’t breathe. At least her voice was distant, which meant she was still at the table.

He hadn’t even registered what she said. He wasn’t ignoring her on purpose! But maybe it was better that way. If he could just get that damn blood of his hands, he could fix his face and everything would be okay again.

“Hunter…” Amity spoke softly. She couldn’t believe what was happening.

"It's not a big deal..." He muttered, he was trying to keep them at bay now. If he could just fix this and show them there was nothing wrong, everything would go back to being peaceful.

"There is blood coming out of your face!” Luz yelled again. She was distraught and frustrated with his attitude. Hunter felt his own frustration rise with how little blood was coming off his hands. He was running out of time.

"I know!” He turned around with desperation, he was trying so hard to calm them down. “But- just trust me, I promise it's normal."

All four of them were still at the dinner table. They had joined Luz in standing up and looked ready to jump into action, but it seemed like they were glued to their places. And Hunter was grateful for it. He could use the kitchen island as a kind of barrier between them.

"Hunter!" Willow said his name like it was supposed to mean something. Like the pure protest she put in saying just his name would make him understand. It didn't. It just made him more nervous.

"That's not normal!" Amity explained. She was right, of course it wasn’t normal. That’s how he’s felt ever since that mission years ago. He knew it wasn’t normal, but-

"It is for me!"

Hunter shut his eyes when he yelled back. He didn’t mean to do it, he didn’t want to. He’s never done that before, not here. He just felt so hopeless.

They all fell silent for a bit, catching their breath. Hunter looked at the ground nervously. The words had burst out in distress, as an attempt to comfort them, but he wasn't ready for what they meant.

Should he just tell them? He could explain it better if they knew- no. No no no, sweet Titan no! This could NOT be their first impression of a Grimwalker. He had to pivot this somehow.

His head shot up to watch their reactions, expecting questioning looks or suspicion. But instead he was met with several intensities of anger. Amity's furious expression was laced with somber understanding. Camila and Luz were sporting a very similar look of rage. But Willow's fiery eyes were definitely the highest level.

“Belos is fucking lucky he’s dead.”

Oh.

Right.

Well, at least he didn’t have to pivot this anymore. They already did it themselves. Hunter wasn’t ready for that implication either. He only felt more uneasy. Even though it was… true.

He turned around again very quickly. The energy in the room had changed, at least he could breathe now.

He heard Camila say something about a first aid kit and someone left the room. Hunter was pretty sure it was her, but he didn’t want to turn around a second time. The blood was finally starting to fade, it didn't used to take this long. Or maybe he never noticed because it wasn't urgent.

Nobody said anything until she came back and he heard her walk over. Hunter steeled himself.

“It doesn’t seem like something normal to me, but we won’t keep pressing you for answers.” Camila spoke softly, putting the kit to the side on the counter. Her presence wasn’t as scary as he expected.

"Thank you." Hunter carefully looked in her eyes, they were full of worry. He nervously looked away again.

Camila slowly reached a hand out towards his shoulder. Hunter did an involuntary step back. Her hand staggered in the air and she let it fall down on the counter. He shut his eyes as shame filled his heart. She was just trying to help!

“And if you need help with this…” Camila paused. She gestured to the first aid and sighed. ”… you only have to ask, okay?”

Hunter was shocked. This experience veterinarian and attentive, caring mother was leaving it to him. She was trusting him to know what to do and do it well. She was giving him exactly what he wanted.

“Okay.”

Camila was truly amazing. But why did she look so sad when she turned away? Why did Luz give her mom such a baffled stare? They didn’t need to worry, he wouldn’t need help. He’s done this a million times before.

Hunter breathed a sigh of relief, he finally felt his heart rate slowing down. He put his head back under the sink. The blood was still not coming off easily, but now he actually could fix it. Everything was going to be okay.

“Hey, let me help you.” Willow suddenly appeared next to him. Hunter glanced up in surprise.

He straightened up when he saw Willow’s face. She had the kind of stubborn look in her eyes that he first saw on the flyer derby field. He wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling right now. Things should be going back to normal, why did she still look so alarmed?

For a second he saw over her head. Amity, Luz and her mom stood a few feet away, in front of the fridge. His sister was hugging her stomach, looking very ill at ease. Amity was rubbing her girlfriend’s back, she shared a worried glance with Camila.

Hunter eyed Willow in confusion. She held the cloth she was holding under the sink. Then she held it up as if to show it to him. When he didn’t say anything she took it as the green light and held it against his damaged cheek. Gently wiping off blood.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her voice so soft and honey-sweet. The motion on the side of his face nearly frictionless. He stared down into her piercing emerald eyes.

Hunter’s brain was silent. It was literally empty up there. Suddenly it exploded back into action and with it his whole face turned hot like fire.

“Uh- YeA- I uhm, I’m okay.” He stammered. He cursed his voice for betraying him.

Willow was unconvinced. She tapped the counter a few times and pouted. The only words that were able to form in Hunter’s mind in that moment were: cute.

The plant witch then decisively tugged a cupboard above her open, taking a big bowl and filling it with water. She put the towel inside and shut the sink off. While holding the bowl in one arm, she took his left hand.

“Come on.” Willow walked passed him and tugged him along. Her grip on his hand wasn’t harsh or demanding, he could slip out easily if he wanted to.

He just didn’t want to.

The feeling was so nice and unexpected. Her soft skin wrapping over his war-torn palm. The determined way she was pulling him along. Before he realised it, she had brought him to the dinner table.

Hunter threw his eyes to the group in front of the fridge, utterly dumbfounded. Luz’s face turned into slight shock before her hand went up to her mouth, failing to hide a smile. Amity followed suit, the corners of her eyes crinkled from her amusement. The fear both girlfriends had was nowhere to be found. Camila also grew a smile, but a much tinier one.

Hunter didn’t feel any less dumbfounded.

“Willow-" Hunter began, his voice didn’t sound nearly as strong as he wanted it to.

“Sit.” She cut him off with a very nice-sounding demand. Pulling out a chair so the back of it was against the table, she pointed at it and looked up at him challengingly.

He turned again to the fridge-group. The girlfriend duo was now sporting full Cheshire Cat smirks. Camila was avoiding eye-contact, her smile slowly growing wider.

Willow set the bowl on the table, wringing the cloth out so it was just damp enough. Then she faced him with one hand on her hip. He searched in her eyes, but saw no way out. So he sat down.

Those forest green eyes, rich and beautiful. They came closer. He felt the heat rise to his face again when she carefully stroked some hair out of the way. His eyes blinked rapidly without permission. She was so close!

Those emerald eyes were brimming with focus. She brought the towel to his cheek again. Incredibly gently she began rubbing the dried blood off. Hunter was almost certain she’d never done this before, but it felt painless.

His heartbeat was accelerating again and his breathing was far from regular. But it was very different from a panic attack. He made slow and tiny breaths, almost like he was scared to breathe. Like expanding his lungs too much would make the moment stop. And his poor excuse of a heart was loud, so loud he was scared she’d hear it, but it wasn’t hysteric. Just loud.

Every time she went away to wash the towel in the bowl, that heart sank to watch her leave. And then it skipped a beat when she put the towel back against his cheek. If that piece of cloth wasn’t there, she would be holding his face in her hand. Hunter’s gulp was unintentional.

Willow’s pretty eyes darted to make contact with his. His heart screamed and begged his brain to come back, but it was gone, turned to mush. He couldn’t look away.

“Sorry if it hurts. I’ll be more careful.” She said and smiled at him. A genuine, sympathetic smile that put dimples in her cheeks.

The boy was too stunned to speak.

He heard giggling from behind him. He hadn’t even noticed that Luz and Amity had moved back to the dinner table. He couldn’t see them anymore, but their presence was palpable. Hunter didn’t know if his face could become any redder. A few shades darker and Willow wouldn’t be able to distinguish his skin from the blood.

A hair strand fell down into her workspace and Willow tucked it behind his ear. Her fingers grazing his temple, creating a tingling feeling on his skin. But the strand fell back down again.

“Can you hold your hair back?” She asked pointing at the now multiple strands clinging to the freshly cleaned side of his face. Willow moved back to the bowl to do the whole rinse again. He still watched her eyes in a trance. When she heard no answer, Willow glanced back up confused and expecting. “Hunter?”

“Huh?” Finally, his brain had returned and his entire body rejoiced. It bursted back to life, or at least back into talking. “Oh! Yes. I can do that.”

Another round of giggling erupted behind him. Hunter’s fiery blush had spread to the tips of his ears. He tried to combat the burning with his much colder hands while smoothing his hair.

“Here Hunter, you can borrow my hair tie.” Luz said. He turned around to find his sister and her girlfriend cuddled against each other. Their chairs pushed close together.

Amity was resting her head against Luz’s collarbone as she hugged her around the waist. Luz had one arm over her shoulders, while waiving the hair tie around with the other. Both of them had that Cheshire smile again. Or rather, still had it.

Hunter glared at them, but he knew there was zero ground to stand on. He just accepted the offer and quickly turned back around. Resulting in another laugh from those two.

His only saving grace right now was knowing Vee and Gus weren’t here to witness this mess. The blood, the panic or… this. Hunter thanked the Titan for that.

Wait, where was Camila? Hunter searched the kitchen and found the Dominican mother in front of the stove. He couldn’t quite see what she was making. Maybe her lunch for work? She seemed relaxed and he was happy she hadn’t left yet.

Okay. Focus. Hair, bun. He could do this.

His jittery fingers complied, Hunter was so glad his brain was back. He popped the hair tie in his mouth as he pulled back his hair. It had gotten pretty long, so the girls taught him how to make a bun.

When he was done he nervously looked at Willow again. She’d been patiently waiting with the rinsed out towel and smiled when they made eye contact. His make-shift heart thundered against his chest.

She got close again and continued wiping his cheek, somehow more gently than before. Now that his brain wasn’t a melted pile of mush, his thoughts were going a million miles per second.

He thought about how close she was. He thought about the complete switch that the morning had made because of her. He thought her cheeks looked more pink than before, but he must’ve imagined it.

Hunter thought she was so gentle and kind. And she cared so much about her friends and family. Hunter knew that he was apart of that too, but now he felt it.

And the feeling was incredibly strong.

Her eyes became too much. He lowered his gaze, focusing on his hands in his lap. There were still some crusted blood smears left on them. He picked at them. Out of sight, Willow hummed as if she was deliberating something important.

"Look up." She instructed, her sugary voice still made demands sound nice. For a second, he thought that she wanted him to look into her eyes, but that was crazy. She was staring very intently at his neck. The blood had probably trailed down on it. He did as he was told without really thinking about it.

Wow, he’s never trusted anyone with his neck before. Wow, that's a weird thought to have.

She went to rinse the cloth out once more, then started cleaning under his jaw and down his neck. Her touch still so soft. Judging from the feeling, Hunter could tell the blood trail reached just above his clavicle.

His heartbeat had quieted just a little bit and Hunter found himself staring at her eyes again. Her gorgeous emerald eyes, they weren’t showing any pity. Just care. And a bit of concern. He had no idea how bad it all looked, he didn’t get a chance to find a mirror in the mayhem.

He could feel her try out a slightly harsher scrub, which he was fine with. His neck didn’t have an open wound. He’d probably do it even harder himself.

He never cared about scraping or scratching his skin, he just wanted the blood gone. Willow wasn’t used to that, and he hoped she never would be.

Just thinking about every time he’d done this alone was making him itchy. Or maybe those were just the other scars that still need to shed. He scratched one on his upper leg, through his sweatpants. Yup, it was definitely the scars. He’ll have to be more careful with the rest, so they wouldn’t bleed.

Titan, he was so weird!

“Alright! Almost done.” Willow beamed at him, dragging him out of his thoughts. She wore a proud smile, giving her those cute dimples.

Hunter’s blush burned hot as he automatically smiled back. A pretty shaky smile at that. Part of him was relieved that Willow didn’t have to take care of him anymore. But a small part of him never wanted this moment to end.

“Just have to wipe this a few more times.” She said as she held the cloth against his face again. Her gentle touch made his heart skip another beat. If it were real, he’d be concerned about how many it had missed.

“I think the wound is pretty shallow.” She wiped once over his scar and stared at it closely. It took him some effort not to shrink away. “And it doesn't look like it’s bleeding very fast."

“Good.” Hunter said, giving in to the reflex for personal space. His poor, fake heart couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and finally breathed normally. His face had been on scorching hot overdrive for way too long.

Willow took the first aid kit from the table. When had that gotten there? She opened in and searched through the items. He watched her awkwardly. He wanted to thank her, but he wasn’t sure how.

“Uhh I don’t really know how this works though.” She said apologetically. Taking out Azura themed Band-aids and trauma scissors, supporting her claim. Willow chuckled at her items and Hunter couldn’t help but smile.

She put everything back and held the kit out to him. As he took it, his brain screamed at him.

“Thank you!” He blurted out, a little too loud. He clumsily pointed at his face. “F-for everything.”

“You’re welcome!” Willow smiled so brightly she could’ve just as easily been the sun.

Hunter sifted through the first aid kit, laying the things he could use out on the table. Disinfectant wipes, dressing, gauze and tape. Oh yeah, this’ll do nicely. As should be expected in the house of a vet, Camila was very keen on their health.

He’d have to use disinfect it first. Hunter absolutely hated this step, but it was necessary. He wiped down to remove any new blood and as expected it hurt like hell. He hissed through his teeth and balled his fist, trying his best to suppress the reaction.

“Are you sure you’re okay? It looks painful…” Willow said, noticing it anyways. She was about to sit down next to Amity, but paused when she heard him.

“What? Pffft no! I’m fine!” Hunter laughed awkwardly. Her eyes squinted and he knew she didn’t believe him. His wonky smile probably wasn’t helping either. He coughed a few times to get a grip on his voice. “Don’t worry. This is supposed to hurt.”

Willow crossed her arms. Why was she so hard to convince?

“He’s not wrong,” Luz said, forever his saviour. “How are you gonna bandage your head anyways?”

“Are we getting mummy-Hunter today?” Amity laughed. Their amusement seemed to convince Willow to take her seat.

“Ha-ha,” Hunter rolled his eyes, “that’s not necessary.”

He threw the dirty wipe away and turned to Luz. He was eager to actually teach her something. He could give her useful knowledge. Of course, he hoped she’d never have to do it.

“First, you put a 4x4 dressing over the wound.” Hunter opened one of the packets. And draped it over his face, making sure to only touch the edges. He could see Luz’s smile growing and before she could make a joke about sauce, he explained further. “Dressing is a sterile piece of gauze that helps to stop the bleeding.”

Luz closed her mouth in disappointment, but she still seemed intrigued about his process. A tiny feeling of pride filled his heart, which he knew shouldn’t be there, but he couldn’t help it.

“Then, you put a strip of normal gauze on top of it.” Hunter continued, taking said gauze and cutting about 6 inches off. He also took the tape and ripped a few pieces off with his teeth.

“Like this.” He let muscle memory take control as he taped the gauze just below his eye. He pulled it taught and taped the other end on the underside of his jaw. He repeated the process for a second strip, just for good measure. He secured it all with two more pieces of tape on the vertical sides.

“Tada!” Hunter did jazz-hands, which he regretted instantly. He dropped his arms awkwardly and put all the first aid stuff back in the kit.

“Huh, it’s like a makeshift giant band-aid.” Luz said amazed. Amity, who was still cuddling close to her, hummed in agreement.

“Exactly.” He smiling as much as he could with that band-aid so close to his mouth. “Once it’s closed, you can leave it exposed to air. No need to exchange the bandages.”

“Oh cool.” She was impressed, though still a little uncomfortable. He understood his knowledge had… implications. But he’d rather her know how and not need to use it, than not know how when she needed it.

Well, he’d rather just crawl into a hole and never come back out. But it was a little too late for that.

Hunter dared to look at Willow again. She was stirring her bowl of cereal. It had turned into a mushy porridge and judging from her expression, Willow didn’t find it very appetising either.

She suddenly looked up and their eyes met. She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He could feel heat rise to his cheeks again. He really thought he was over this by now. At least half of his face was hidden.

He knew without looking that Luz and Amity had that stupid smirk again. But screw them! Willow was just being nice, that’s just her thing. And he was just embarrassed about everything. He was just flustered, because…

It doesn’t matter! It’s over now and everything can go back to normal.

“Here, cariño.” Camila said as she put a plate down and motioned for him come closer. “Eat up. You need something better than cereal to replenish the blood you lost.”

The plate had two pieces of toast with a generous amount of scrambled eggs on top. She also put a bowl of fruit and a glass of water down. It looked amazing.

“Wow… thank you.” Hunter said perplexed. He hesitantly walked over, looking a little too surprised for Camila’s liking. He looked up at her, he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind and sat down.

He glanced at the girls on the other side of the table. All three of them were watching him impatiently, Amity even gestured at the food like ‘eat already’. He took a bite out the mountain of egg on toast. It was absolutely delicious. He realised how hungry he was, quickly going in for a second bite.

He hummed in delight and Camila was very happy to hear it. She smiled lively and exchanged thumbs-ups with her daughter. A sudden noise made Hunter stop in the middle of his third bite.

There were thunderous footsteps in the hallway. Gus appeared, grabbing the doorway so his momentum swung him into the kitchen. He screeched to a halt in the middle of the room.

“WHY IS THERE A TRAIL OF BLOOD IN THE HALWAY?!?”

Damn it.

Amity was watching Vee and Gus flock around a very worn-out Hunter. They had barged in one after the other, with the same reaction when they saw his bandages. They gasped and ran to him, inspecting every inch of his face.

Hunter tried his best to assure his buddy he was okay, but Gus wasn’t having it. And when Vee joined in, the conversation started all over again.

Now they bombarded him with barely intelligible questions. Vee even checked him for a fever, practically facepalming Hunter who was beginning to look annoyed.

Amity was sure they weren’t actually worried at this point, but they showed no signs of stopping. Still, she didn’t see a reason to step in. This was payback for scaring them so much.

Judging by the relaxed way Willow and Luz sat beside her, they felt the same.

“If you two are trying to play nurse you’re a little late for that~” Amity said in a sing-song voice. She smirked at her friend. “Isn’t that right Wi-“

“HAHA! Yeah cuz Hunter already patched himself up!” Willow exclaimed nervously. Then she leaned in to whisper threateningly. “You’re so funny Amity~ eat your breakfast.”

Luz tried to stifled her giggles when Willow gave her a menacing look as well.

Amity had no idea why she was so worried. Hunter’s crush on her was so painfully obvious, she didn’t need to hide anything. To be honest, Amity was still a little shocked that Willow liked him back. But this morning was undeniable, her beautiful best friend likes the blonde dork.

Luz swore up and down that she even saw Willow blush when Hunter put his hair in a bun. Amity didn’t see it though.

Gus hugged the older boy tight, yammering as he pushed his cheek against Hunter’s chest. Hunter seemed to resign to his fate, patting Gus’s back with a peeved expression.

“Veeeeeee~” Gus cried out with way too much theatrics. Turning to her while shaking his friend. “Hunter’s dying!”

“I’m not dying!” Hunter yelled irritated. He tried to wriggle out of Gus’s hug. “It’s just a wound, a shallow flesh wound, I’m okay!”

“But what even happened?” Vee whined frantically.

“Nothing- I just… Guys!” He turned to the girls with desperation. “Tell them I’m okay.”

Amity looked from her left to her right, sharing a silent agreement. They weren’t letting the entertainment end just yet.

“Well,” Amity placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on folded hands. She leered at Hunter. “you never told us what happened.”

Hunter tilted his head and stared at her with a look of pure betrayal. His mouth hung open from disbelief. He kept staring at her while Vee and Gus circled around him, poking and prodding. Willow bursts out laughing, quickly followed by Luz.

"Ugh!” Luz exclaimed after her giggle-fit died down. She was looking at her phone for the time. “I have to get ready for school."

Amity watched her girlfriend get up and walk away. She was surprised to see her eyes so sad. She jumped up to follow Luz while she got ready for the bus. Her girlfriend had literally just laughed her butt off, what was going on?

“That was a pretty weird start of the day, huh?” Amity said as she followed Luz upstairs.

“Ha, definitely.” Luz gave her an exhausted look. They entered her room, which was now just ‘the girls room’.

It was a bit cramped with the extra beds, but they made it work. They tried their best to keep things tidy. Although, Willow’s bed was a constant jumble of blankets that no one could untangle.

Amity’s own bed looked pretty inviting right now. She needed a nap, and it wasn’t even seven-thirty yet!

This morning had really been something. First, her friend was bleeding from his face. It had plunged the room in a state of panic. But then, out of nowhere, Willow had saved the day by playing nurse.

It was kind of impressive how easily Willow got him to sit down and cooperate. After sharing a shocked look with her girlfriend, which quickly turned into giggling, her and Luz sat down to enjoy the moment.

It was such a nice domestic moment. Watching the flustered mess form afar, side by side with her own source of tomato-face. It was almost nostalgic.

She walked over to Luz’s desk, which was a bit of a mess. The books they got from the library, all their drawings, and anything interesting enough to bring home were all be dumped on the desk. Luz’s egg palisman was also there, under a lamp. Nobody knew if keeping it warm like that was necessary, but it couldn’t hurt.

“So… what do you think happened with Hunter’s scar?” Amity picked up her pencil case from the desk, she knew Luz would forget it otherwise.

“I don’t know.” Luz answered quickly. She gathered her books in her schoolbag

“Hehe, maybe he couldn’t see where he was going through that hair and bonked against a wall. I swear his hair is growing faster than mine.” She held her own, now faded-pink hair up from the sides, but Luz wasn’t watching her. She didn’t really react at all. Amity decided to change the subject. “When does the bus get here?”

“I don’t know, soon.” Luz said, starting to feel a little antsy.

“What’s it like in there anyways?” Amity handed her the pencil case before she closed her bag.

“Boring- I don’t know…” She shook her head. Again, her eyes looked so sad. Amity still wanted to cheer her up, but she wasn’t sure how. Maybe she could tell Luz a story about the flying bus back home.

“Ya know, in the Boiling Ilses-“

“Yeah! Um...” Luz interrupted her, she looked a little alarmed. She pointed to the window. “Sorry batata, but I gotta go.”

“Oh. Right, of course.” Amity stepped aside, receiving a kiss on the cheek before her girlfriend practically sprinted away. She stared at the empty doorway.

The room fell silent and cold.

Her heart felt heavy in her chest, as she descended the stairs again. She tried not to feel so dejected, but it just wouldn’t go away.

It had been 6 weeks since her entire life turned upside down. That’s 1 and a half months. Or 42 days. Amity spared herself from calculating the hours. She didn’t need to count those.

Who’s counting anyways? Not her. She’s fine. She’s perfectly fine. She’s strong. She didn’t need to know. She didn’t need to think about it.

She didn’t need to think about her siblings or her dad. Or her home. Or her entire planet. Or how her girlfriend had become a little distant, hadn’t asked how she was doing in a while, hadn’t opened up to her lately.

Hadn’t comforted her about all the things she didn’t need to think about.

It was strange. Even though they had been living together for 6 weeks, and constantly saw each other, they barely had time to talk. Actually talk.

It wasn’t Luz’s fault! She can’t read minds. Amity just missed her bubbly girlfriend.

But it was fine! She is strong. And if Luz couldn’t be optimistic right now, she’d be strong enough for the both of them.

Starting with a portal to the demon realm.

She gathered her friends from the kitchen and they went to work in the clubhouse. They were close, she could feel it. They had a plan for a new portal door, which used palismen magic as substitute for Titan’s blood. They just needed to figure out a good set up.

Which was apparently impossible!

Especially if no one was helping her! Gus was busy teasing Willow, while she made magic flowers in the corner. Something about ‘livening this place up’. As if that mattered right now.

Hunter and Vee were in the other corner talking about a stupid old chair that had probably been there for centuries. She could hear Hunter fussing about ‘fixing it up with a sewing machine’ or something along those lines.

That was not important right now!

Not only were they doing nothing, they were also distracting her. Gus’s endless questions about Amity’s earlier nurse-comment, was making it very hard to focus.

She was trying to draw a schematic for the portal, but she couldn’t hear herself think.

And the scratching!

Oh sweet Titan, the constant itching from Hunter. What on earth was that guy doing? Did he decide to wear a sweater made of Griffin fur? Or whatever the human equivalent of that was!

“GUYS!” Amity yelled to get everyone’s attention. It worked, because 4 very surprised faces turned to her. Good. They better listen up. “Can we please focus on making this portal?!”

“Sure, we just-“

“No! Because we finally have an idea that might actually work, but you guys aren’t doing anything!” Amity watched her friends eye each other.

“Vee, you go back to the house and gather the portal-ingredients we bought yesterday. Willow and Gus, you guys go to the store and buy those metal cables. Hunter, you get over here and help me make a schematic - and stop scratching!"

"Alright! Damn!” Hunter threw his hands in the air. He gave her an incredulous look. “What is with you today?"

"Nothing!” Amity looked around at her friends, all of them seemed bewildered.

Okay, she may have overreacted just a little bit, maybe. She had the tendency to explode when something was annoying her, and then she’d just keep going. Like opening the floodgates.

“Good luck bro.” Vee slapped Hunter on the back. She slithered to the door faster than Amity had ever seen her slither before. She transformed in her human disguise and disappeared.

“Quick, let’s get outta here.” Willow elbowed Gus in the side and they also made a break for it.

Amity looked down, feeling her face warm up with embarrassment. She had definitely overreacted.

“Okay…” Hunter walked over to join her at the round table. He sat down carefully on the mini-cooler and breathed out loudly. “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.” Amity said exasperated. He slowly reached out for the pen she was holding, giving her a look like she’d bite his head off. She slapped it down in his hand.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Hunter drew possible idea’s on how they would generate palisman magic. Amity monitored closely.

“Soooo…” Hunter began, clearly testing the waters. The death glare she gave him didn’t stop him though. “What is with you today?”

“Nothing.” She said again, knowing he wouldn’t buy it. She looked at his encouraging smile, which was lopsided thanks to the bandages. She sighed. “I wanna go home.”



“Of course.” Hunter said with sore understanding. He waited for her to continue.



“And I can’t do that unless this works.” She tapped her schematic repeatedly with her index finger. Those half-scientific drawings, held together with hopes and dreams.

“Yeah, but… those have kind of always been the stakes right?” Hunter said cautiously. He was on guard for any signs of Amity getting mad again. She was only surprised. He was seeing right through her. “Did something else happen?”

Amity looked at her hands, picking at her finger nails. For some reason, the way Hunter asked felt familiar. Sometimes he had weird instincts about these things.

“Have you noticed that Luz seems more sad lately?” She said, trying her hardest to not sound completely heartbroken.

Hunter took a deep breath. He averted his eyes and hummed in a way that showed how big a deal it was. For both of them.

“I don’t think she expected it to take this long.” He fumbled with the edges of the schematics.

“I wanna talk with her, help her. Cheer her up, you know?” Amity asked and he nodded. “I just don’t know how.”

“Why don’t you go on a date again?” Hunter suggested. “You can talk with her privately, but also cheer her up.”

Amity stared at him. It was so simple, he’d come up with it so easily.

“That’s perfect.” She was shocked.

“Well it’s not portal science.” Hunter laughed and she rolled her eyes. Then she remembered something and her face grew an evil smile.

“Maybe you should take your own advice.” She kept her voice sweet and innocent. She was plotting a perfect comeback, the poor boy had no idea. He only turned to her puzzled. “With a certain plant witch?”

Her scheme worked exactly as she wanted. Hunter’s confusion turned into wide-eyed recognition for a split second. Then his whole face lit up with a blush just as bright as that morning.

“D-Didn’t you wanna focus on the schematics?” He stammered. Amity cackled, happy with how her plan came together. Hunter hid his face in his hands until he calmed down.

They eventually went back to work. The idea flowed more easily. Funny how such a simple idea could mean everything. Amity felt a lot lighter now that she had a plan. Her brain was already busy designing a perfect date. She bumped Hunter’s shoulder.

“Thanks by the way.”

Hunter was sitting in the basement, sewing a pink armchair cover with the machine. Vee had helped him sneak it out of the clubhouse.

He really wanted to fix it and this seemed like the perfect time to use the sewing machine Camila had given him. She was delighted to find out he like sewing and taught him how to use the machine. It was very fun, she was a nice teacher.

Flapjack was snoozing nearby on the table. He had made a tiny nest of fabric scraps. Every now and then, he’d wake up to check Hunter’s progress. He’d compliment him when he did a good job. Or when he did a bad job. Flap still didn’t really understand sewing.

Like when Hunter accidentally stitched his sleeve onto the fabric. After telling Flapjack that, no that really wasn’t a good thing, he flew upstairs to grab a pair of scissors. He also suggested to wear something with short sleeves for the time being.

Hunter was a little paranoid that someone would come downstairs and see his scars. Which usually wasn’t bad, but some of them were still… shedding. Flapjack, being the hypocrite that he was, told him it was fine and went back to sleep.

He might be cute now, but Flap wasn’t as peaceful earlier. The little bird had gotten the shock of his life when he saw Hunter with those bandages. His ears still hurt from the loud chirping.

But explaining what happened to his own palisman was a lot easier. He already knew all his secrets.

Selkidomus scales, of all things.

He had read a lot about them when he’d lived at Hexside. The Selkidomus was an strange creature, an amazing representative of the Boiling Ilses’ standards. But they were difficult to study, thanks to them slowly going extinct.

As much as they still didn't know, the bestiary was quite extensive on the demon. There was a lot more information than there was about Grimwalkers. Hunter had felt a strange comfort reading about their traits and life history. It was easier to latch onto something he could actually learn.

He also felt a familiar pang of guilt whenever he thought of the creatures. He knew he was to blame as well, even if he technically never killed one. For days he had been hiring pirates, casting tracking spells and sailing the ocean.

He was hunting his own kind... in a way.

Was it normal for him to feel connected to those creatures? Is that why Belos told him to capture one? Did Belos make every Golden Guard hunt a Selkidomus? Were they all just collecting the ingredients for their successors?

Hunter shivered, half involuntarily and half in an attempt to shake those awful thoughts. Such a barrage of questions was painfully common nowadays. He tried to not fall into a spiral. Again.

“Hey bro,” Luz’s voice startled him. She was halfway down the stairs and hung over the railing. “Watcha doing?”

“Oh hey,” Hunter relaxed when he saw she was alone. “I’m fixing that old chair from the clubhouse.”

Luz jumped over the railing and landed on the couch. She sat down beside him and came way too close to the sewing machine, blocking his view on purpose.

“Ooooh cool!” She laughed.

“It is cool.” Hunter said as he shoved her head out of the way. Flapjack woke up from the commotion and went to greet Luz, who gave him all the head scratches he wanted.

While she was busy with Flap, her expression seemed to fade a little. Her smile was still there but her eyes looked somber. Hunter was reminded of what Amity said earlier in the day.

“Are you okay?” He asked worried. Her head shot back to face him.

“I’m fine! H-how are you?” Hunter raised an eyebrow. Luz grimaced, she heard it too. She just hoped he wouldn’t-

“Rough day at school?” There it was. His kind expression was nothing but a trap! He’d be all understanding and nice, and then she’d tell him all her problems.

“Yup!” She admitted just to move on quickly. She was here to check on him, not the other way around. “Anyways, I was thinking about this morning.”

This time it was Hunter’s turn to feel uncomfortable. They both had something they didn’t want to talk about. But he had literally been bleeding this morning, so his thing would have to go first. He sighed and checked the stairs to see if the coast was clear.

“Is it a Grimwalker thing?” Luz whispered after following his gaze.

He nodded, but didn’t explain anything just yet. A big part of him wanted to explain it to her. To ease Luz’s concerns and have her mediate with the others. Another part of him felt guilty that she was constantly the only one he wasn’t lying to. It seemed like they were always sharing secrets in the basement.

He also just didn’t want to admit it. The demon realm is weird, witches are weird, Luz herself is weird, but Grimwalkers are on a whole different level. It was embarrassing.

“My scars… shed.” He finally managed to spit it out. He looked back over at Luz. Their eyes locked for a solid minute of silence.

“I’m sorry, what?” She finally said after blinking a few times.

Hunter groaned and he let his head fall on the table next to the sewing machine. It was nice and cushioned from all the fabric scraps. Flapjack flew from Luz’s hands onto the back of his head.

“There, there kid.” He chirped and rubbed his beak over Hunter’s hair in way of patting him. Luz did the same thing on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna need a bit more information, bud.” She was trying to be supportive but that was hard when she was utterly confused.

Hunter sighed and moved so that he was laying on his chin. He checked the stairs one last time. Flap climbed up to nestle on the top of his head. He chirped a few encouraging words and Hunter sat up. He just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

“So, I’m made from Selkidomus scales. And the Selkidomus goes through a shedding phase every now and then. So…” He made a motion with his hands to put two and two together. Luz seemed to get it. “When a shed isn’t ready to come off yet and it gets ripped or whatever, it damages the skin underneath. That’s happened a few times before. So I’m guessing I ripped my shed in my sleep and that’s why I was, uh… bleeding.”

“Huh.” Luz stared at him blankly and the basement entered another uncomfortable silence. It was definitely not the weirdest thing she had seen in the Boiling Ilses, but this was also definitely not what she expected. “So it really is just something that happens sometimes?”

“Yeah.”

“You shed.”

“Yeah.” He showed his upper left arm, where the scar was a little flaky. Luz had a befuddled expression. “But only on my scars.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” He threw his arms up with sudden misery. He dropped his hands on Luz’s shoulders and held tight as he looked her directly in the eyes.

“I don’t know! There is zero information about grimwalkers. Nothing! The only thing all the books can agree on are the ‘ingredients’. I don’t know anything about me!” He whisper-yelled the avalanche of his feelings. The sudden misery turned into hopelessness and a tiny hint of crazy.

“Oh right, that-”

“You know what I do know Luz? I know that the locals on The Arm collect the scales, because they believe it brings luck. But I don’t feel lucky!” Hunter shook her back and forth. He was being dramatic for the bit, while also meaning every word he said. “I don’t feel lucky at all Luz!”

“Okay, okay, calm down!” Luz laughed as she grabbed his arms to stop the shaking. Her brother slumped over his sewing machine, fumbling the loose threads with a grumpy expression.

He had forgotten Flapjack, who slowly slid off his head. The cardinal made an undignified chirp before remembering he could fly. He landed on the table in front of his witch and whistled anxiously.

Hunter patted him to let him know it was okay. He was dead serious, but he wasn’t seriously upset.

“It’s really not that bad.” Luz said. Hunter glared at her, thinking she was lying to make him feel better. “No really. I’m just glad you’re okay. This morning was a lot.”

“I’m sorry.” Hunter’s guilt was having a field day with this entire situation.

“No,” Luz playfully chopped his head. “it wasn’t your fault.”

Even if that wasn’t what she meant, it was true. He's gone too soft, too relaxed. How could he just forget about his shedding? How could he ignore the signs? Just because he was tired?

“I just-“ Luz continued. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. I couldn’t focus!”

“Is that why you had a bad day at school?” He saw an opportunity to change the subject and took it. He wanted to move on before they even started talking, but now he was really eager for a new topic.

“Ah, I see what you did there.” Luz grimaced again. There had to be a way to avoid this. Apart from making Hunter feel guilty. More than he already did, at least. “Yes, but also no! There was something else this morning…”

He waited for her to continue, looking at her expectantly. He had told her about his thing after all. Now it was her turn.

“Everything in due time.” Flapjack chirped at his witch.

“He says you gotta say it.” Hunter translated falsely. Flap looked at him bewildered and Luz smiled at it.

“Did he now?” She asked as she propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. Flapjack chirped indignant. He tugged hard on Hunter’s hair-noodle.

“Well it’s only fair!” Hunter defended as he tried to escape his bird.

Luz laughed at their antics. Hunter seemed to feel better after telling her. She knew the same would probably be true for her, but she was ashamed.

“I was mean to Amity this morning.” She admitted after contemplating for a while. She knew he was the last person who’d judge her.

“Mean?” Hunter’s face scrunched in doubt. That’s not what Amity had told him.

“She was just trying to be nice and I was being blunt and rude.” She hugged herself around the middle, looking at her brother for any hints of disappointment. But suspicion was still written on his face. “It’s true!”

“Okay, okay.” He sat back upright and put on a more serious expression. Flapjack made a soft trilling sound, making Hunter look from him to Luz. The tiny cardinal nodded encouragingly and the witch turned to his sister a little unsure. “Why were you being rude?”

“I don’t know.” Luz responded in surprise. She hadn’t expected that question, but it was definitely the right one to ask. Flap really was a wise old man in the shape of tiny bird. “Stress?”

“Why?” Hunter was glad Flapjack’s suggestion worked. His own instincts were to just comfort Luz, tell her that she couldn’t have been that horrible. Now he realised that wouldn’t make her feel better.

“Because!” Luz yelled, but more words wouldn’t come. Why was she stressed? She groaned. “Everything?!”

Flapjack flew onto her shoulder and chirped faintly. She couldn’t understand them but it sounded comforting.

“Again, not your fault, but this morning was a rollercoaster. And then I was scared I was gonna miss the school bus. But I also just didn’t want to go at all.” Luz became more anguished as the truth spilled out. “It’s already been 6 weeks! I have to go to school now. I’m wasting almost the entire day, while I should be making a portal! I should be getting you guys home!”

Luz’s feelings-avalanche was just as miserable as his own. Hunter wasn’t sure what to do know, so he resulted to following Flap’s lead. His palisman was still on Luz’s shoulder, gently rubbing his beak against her face. Hunter patted her head awkwardly. Luz laughed weakly.

“School is not a waste.” He tried jokingly, still coming up with something better to say.

“Human school is.” Luz pouted. She knew it was important, but it definitely didn’t feel like it. Hunter shrugged.

“I know it’s taken longer than we wanted, but you can’t lose hope.” He ruffled her hair and Luz ducked away. Flap jumped down to the table again, chirping his support for those words.

“I know and I’m not.” Luz said honestly, then she sighed. ”But I gotta get that portal working before I lose my girlfriend.”

“Calm down drama queen.” He laughed. “You and Amity are fine. The Boiling Sea would freeze over before you two break up.”

“But I don’t know how to apologise.” Luz whined. This was a big deal to her. She hated disappointing Amity like this. “I’ve been avoiding her since I got home.”

“Well that’s not smart.” He admitted, Luz gave him a grumpy look. He tried to ruffle her hair again, as he thought of a solution. A plan hatched in his brain. “You could take her on a date, to make it up to her.”

Luz lit up. His idea was absolutely perfect. The first time she’d taken Amity on a date in the human world, they both loved it. It was exactly the mundane, slice of life date she promised her. And it was awesome.

“That’s genius!” She looked at him excited. She would make this the most perfect date ever.

“I know, right?” Hunter said with a cocky smile and his palisman rolled his eyes.

She jumped up and sprinted back up the stairs, on all fours of course. She refused to use that thing like it was intended.

“Alright, bye!” He called after her. He laughed and shook his head as he went back to his sewing. Flapjack flapped his wings happily.

After just about 40 minutes, the armchair cover was done. He went upstairs to find Vee, so they could go to the shack and fix the chair for real. He found her in the living room. She was watching tv with Willow and Gus, all sprawled out on the couch with some snacks.

Their mission to go into town alone and buy those wires had apparently been intense. Gus had told him about something called a ‘plastic bag fee’ they didn’t know about. Which meant they didn’t have enough money. They had been scared to death about going to jail.

The poor cashier had tried to talk with Willow, but she insisted that they’d take the bags back. Gus had carried all the wires himself while Willow frantically pushed the money in the cashier’s hands. Then they escaped at breakneck speeds.

Hunter could only imagine the breakdown he’d have if he was in that situation. They had acclimated pretty well, but sometimes it was clear how foreign they really were. Luz was dearly missed on those missions.

“Hunter!” Gus greeted after hearing him approach. Willow and Vee turned around too and waved at him. “Welcome back to the upstairs world.”

“Hey guys.” He greeted back. He held up the fabrics he’d been working on for the past hours. “I’m done with the armchair thing.”

“Woah you already fixed it?” Vee slithered off the couch and over to examine his handiwork. She showcased it, so that the others could see it better.



“It looks great!” Willow commented and Gus nodded impressed.



“Thanks” He said sheepishly. He knew he still had a lot to learn, but it was nice to get compliments. Especially from her.

“Can you help me put it back on the chair?” He said to Vee. He was eager to complete his task and didn’t want to hang around for too long.

“Sure.” She agreed and they moved towards the hallway.



“Hey wait,” Gus stopped them in their tracks. “How’s the… uh- cheek situation?”

“It’s fine.” Hunter told him. All three of his friends looked at him with utter disbelief. “No really, I’ll probably take the bandages off soon.”

“If you need help, you know where to find me.” Willow said with a caring look in her eyes. Hunter could feel his ears catch fire just thinking about it, or just remembering this morning.

He was saved from having to form a response by Amity and Luz walking into the room, hand in hand. Hunter was happy to see it. Although, it seemed like he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“Looks like the lovebirds are back to normal.” Willow said as she propped her arms over the back of the couch for a more comfortable talk.

Amity and Luz looked a little flustered, surprised that their friends had noticed. But they were also very happy to have overcome their brief awkwardness.

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Hunter had something to do with that.” Vee pointed finger guns at him. It was hard not to notice that both girls felt better after a conversation with him. The boy had a gift.

“Yeah, you might call me a relationships expert.” Hunter said sarcastically. Many people rightfully scoffed.

“You told a couple to go on a date.” Gus pointed out with a deadpan expression.

“Exactly, who could’ve thought of that?” He responded jokingly, grinning from ear to ear. Or ear to bandages in his case. It earned him a few laughs, but Luz saw her own opportunities.

“Fangs.” She pointed at his mouth, evil smirk and all.

“Stop!” Hunter covered it on instinct. His fear was short-lived, turning into annoyance as he glared at her. “This joke is getting old!”

“It’s not a joke, Hunter, it’s the truth!” Luz yelled passionately. Vee nodded in agreement. She used Hunter’s shoulder to jump up and ruffle his hair.

“Embrace your fangs!” The basilisk yelled with the same enthusiasm as their sister.

“They are teeth!” Hunter escaped her claws and made a break for the hallway. He was going to fix that armchair with or without her help. Vee decided it was with her help, changed into her human disguise, and went after him.

The girlfriends joined Gus and Willow on the couch. Cuddling as they settled, like the cuties they were. Gus was very glad they were back to normal as well. Besides, it reminded him of something. He turned to his bestie.

“If you need help, you know where to find me~” Gus repeated her words with an over-the-top sweet voice. Holding his hand elegantly under his chin and smirking.

Willow’s cheeks went pink. Her eyes dashed from the tv to her friend, completely caught off guard. She pushed Gus away as she tried to cool off her face.

He just couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease those two.

Willow had told him everything about this morning. She had been very flustered and he practically had to drag it out of her, but it worked. Gus knew all. And he was extremely salty that he had missed it.

[softmick]

Hi Meg! 💖

84 or 86 for the fic game?

Thanks for the prompts, Calli! I went with 86. “Fine, don’t say anything and make me worry.”

Oh boy, this got away from me! and went sad. What is even happening? Lol.

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

Franny runs into the kitchen and wraps her arms around Debbie’s legs. She speaks with too much concern for such a small child, “Mommy? Is Uncle Ian okay?”

These days Franny notices everything, but Ian hadn’t exactly made it hard. Debbie’s face scrunches before she remembers to look reassuring. Her reply comes out weak, “Of course!” Franny considers this with a finger to her chin. Debbie tries again with a smile. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.” She isn’t really sure at all, but she remembers how it feels to believe a mom should be. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed and we’ll both tuck you in?”

Franny nods and runs up the stairs. A small win, but a win. Debbie listens to her daughter’s steps grow distant.

Ian had beelined straight to her from the door, scooping the girl up and holding her close. She had greeted him to no response. He alternated squeezing her limbs and pressing his face into her hair, taking breaks simply to stare into her curious face. Franny was patient and still for as long as she could manage. Debbie saw her start to squirm and broke up the moment.

Now Ian is on the couch alone holding Franny’s well-loved stuffed rabbit gently between his big hands.

“Ian?” Debbie whispers, sitting next to him.

He doesn’t speak, simply wraps an arm around her and presses a kiss to her head with a shaky breath into her hair. It feels so nice she could almost cry, but she doesn’t forget for a second that they don’t really do this. They’re close, not touchy-feely.

“Are you okay? Franny was asking.”

She thinks he’s nodding, but it’s hard to tell as he pulls her tighter.

“Can you tell me about it?” She asks hopefully.

He kisses her again and lets her go, but doesn’t meet her eyes.

Her heart flips against her ribs and she lets out what she hopes is a chuckle. “Fine, don’t say anything and make me worry, too.”

Ian swallows and looks down. He might resent the question from Lip or Fiona, but he’s Debbie’s big brother. He should ease her worries, not cause them. He doesn’t want to scare her and doesn’t know how to tell her why he’s so upset, why his heart feels so raw.

He tightens his grip on the rabbit and looks into it’s shiny plastic eyes. “It’s all so fragile, this,” he says nodding towards the stairs.

It’s felt that way in the past, but Debbie looks at her brother and feels pride. He’s still here, trying, succeeding, living. She thinks about Carl trying his hardest to follow in Ian’s footsteps and help this crazy world somehow. Liam, sweet Liam, bright and kind through it all. Things are looking up for Lip now that he’s sober… Debbie sees possibility for them all.

There’s an account in her name with enough money to keep the house warm, the water flowing. Her daughter is safe, fed, and loved undeniably. Whatever else happens and despite the desperation she may feel for a love that’s all her’s, her family is good.

“Gallaghers are pretty resilient.”

There’s truth to her words, but Ian knows intimately that they’re made of the same breakable bones and soft tissue as everyone else. He knows that there’s no way to protect any of them from the seemingly endless ways people come to the end.

“Bad day at work.”

It’s an immediate relief to her. It’s not an episode.

Debbie knows exactly what he means. Someone died, maybe multiple someones. Ian won’t say it that way though. When he says anything at all he says, “It was a bad day at work today. I lost someone, Debs.” He takes responsibility for each one and never elaborates.

“You always do your best, Ian.”

Ian hears her and forces himself to nod - slowly, twice. He knows that it’s true. At least tonight. Earlier. He did everything he possibly could. He would’ve given everything for it to have been enough.

Debbie waits, not expecting him to say anything else. She wants to offer something more, something comforting, and tries to imagine what someone older or wiser might say. The only voice she can conjure is her own.

The silence, unusual as it is, seems to have a magic of its own because Ian does speak again.

“Bad accident on 55. Lost three tonight.” He doesn’t usually need to share. He feels bad, he deals with it alone in any number of ways, he feels better. It’s a well-worn path. But right now the burden feels so heavy, the pain is so sharp, that he feels too weak to keep it inside. Maybe if he can get it out he’ll feel better and Debbie will understand what’s going on with him for once.

He sucks in a shaky breath, “Two young kids, babies, Deb.” His voice breaks at the last part and tears drop thickly.

He wonders what they thought about in their final moments. If they were scared, if they knew they didn’t deserve it. If they knew, the way all kids should know, that they meant the world to someone. That someone cared. All the responders had tried so hard to make those last moments as gentle as possible. They had held little hands, whispered words they hoped were soothing.

Debbie aches. She has enough grief to last a lifetime and so does Ian. They don’t deserve more. It isn’t fair. If she could stop him from hurting she would. She leans into him.

It’s her worst nightmare, something happening to Franny, to Liam. To any of them. For them to die not knowing how fucking grateful she is to have them in her life, not knowing how much she loves them. For her to die before she gets the chance to tell them all. She does her best to show Franny every day, but none of her siblings communicate as well as they should. She worries the message gets lost. They’re close, not intimate. It’s not the kind of thing they talk about.

"We’re safe. You’re safe.” She pauses as he sniffles loudly. Then she tells him what she’d like to hear. “Fran’s safe and she adores you. She knows you love her, okay? We all do. You’re a good person, Ian.”

She doesn’t know if it’s enough, if he can feel the weight behind her words. But she’s sure. In this moment, right here, she’s confident she’s right.

She squeezes his shoulder and stands. It won’t help anything if she starts crying. “Lets go say goodnight, huh? You can read us a story.”

“Up in a minute.”

Ian never knows what will happen when he opens up which is why he mostly doesn’t. But maybe he’s just tried the wrong siblings. Somehow Debbie cut to the root, excised some of the pain. Helped him. He turns out the lights and heads upstairs, rabbit still in hand. With each step he feels a bit lighter, a little younger. How many times has he made this trek, to put little Gallaghers to bed? Debbie, even. And now her daughter. A lot, he thinks, but never enough.

[sunthyme]

BABE, WAKE UP! PART FOUR'S OUT! Anyways, thank y'all so much for the support!! Every time I read y'all's tags and comments, I tear up istg y'all are so sweet. Have some photos of my kitten as a treat.

Onto...

🏵️Scarabia🏵️

So I believe they have the least amount of members out of all my headcanoned dorms so if y'all can think of some more villains for me to twst, I'd be more than happy to toss them in here lmao.

🦦Kalim Al-Asim🦦

omg they have an otter emoji cute!!

(he/him) Transmasc - Panromantic Asexual

My baby boy is so precious omggg

- I really didn't change a lot from the og design tbh, I love him. I did give him rounder and bigger eye for that cute puppy-eyed look.

- Stuck some freckles on him and gave him a tooth gap for max cutie patootie status. Oh, and some scars from previous assassination attempts.

- I'm really partial to Kalim and Ruggie or Kalim and Silver personally (or both, Kaiplim does have two hands for a reason) but I see them as a little friend group regardless and he LOVES spoiling them.

- Ruggie at first befriended him for the money aspect but eventually grew to like being around Kalim anyways. Silver just likes to listen to Kalim talk. Was also his first friend outside of Diasomnia.

- Kalim has ADHD and dyslexia, making it super hard for him to concentrate in class so Ruggie helps him study for tests (Kalim always bring food along with so it's mutually beneficial lmao). Because of this, people end up thinking he's dumb but he's super intelligent, he just can't concentrate easily. Crewel lets him have different fidgets in class as long as he doesn't accidentally disrupt his potion-making with them.

- Kalim's also highly empathetic and view himself as a support to all (maybe I am a Kalim kin too, fuck). He loves to listen to other and help out. God, he's such a cutie omg. Also has really good memory in specific about remembering who tells him what.

God I love Kalim so much, the cutie patootie. Still on Book 4 so I don't know ALL of the shit that happens yet but y'know it's gonna make me cry.

Next is

🐍Jamil Viper🐍

(he/it) Agender - Gay Demi-romantic Asexual

If I didn't think I changed a lot about Kalim, I changed practically nothing about Jamil lol.

- Biggest change was giving him a much redder skin tone. Not only is it closer to Jafar's, I felt it would look really nice with his general colour palette.

- Made his face a bit more angular and 'snake-like', plus some fangs but you can't see them lmao. Dimples because every time this man actually smiles, a new angel is born istg.

- I love him and Azul as a dynamic because it's two really emotionally constipated people dancing around each with a fun amount of delulu on Azul's part, let's be honest. Lowkey could be toxic or healing, who knows?

- He purposefully cooks too much some times as an excuse to give some away. I see him slides over an extra thing of food to Azul at some point as a sort of 'repayment' for like give him the homework or something. (Azul loves his cooking but wouldn't say that to his face for a hundred dollars lol).

- He and Trey cook together and Trey is like the only other person Jamil trusts in the kitchen with him. Trey teaches Jamil his family's baking recipes and in turn, Jamil share his cultural recipes. Trey 🤝 Jamil solidarity.

- Hella competitive streak which means Azul and Floyd find it incredibly easy to push his buttons.

- I know this is a lot of AshenViper but I love them lol. Azul tries to flirt with Jamil subtly like in the mer fashion of penguin-pebbling but Jamil is obviously unaware of the custom so he doesn't get it. (He does keep all the little shiny things, though over his dead body would he tell Azul that.)

Enough about my two favourite dumbasses... now for my ocs!

🌅Dareen Irfan🌅

Third Year - (she/her) Nonbinary - Sapphic Asexual

God, this is just the dorm for asexuals, huh?

- Dareen is twisted from the Cave of Wonders! I could not for the life of me tell what kind of cat it was so she's kinds ambiguous, especially since there's already another tiger.

- She is a very knowledgeable person and knows pretty much everyone. If you need information about someone you wanna ask out, she's your girl. She love playing matchmaker but respects when someone is not reciprocating and helps the rejected party move on.

- She and Oki are friends and like to do tarot readings together. (She may or may not have a massive crush on her but refuses to say anything lol). Both are very interested in cultural practices and hang out a ton to talk about them. (God I love sapphics)

- She's actually also on the basketball team and she and Jamil get along pretty well. She's very fast on the courts and Oki attends all of her games.

Next is one of my favourite designs...

🌼Chunying Liu🌼

Third Year - (they/it/she) Genderfluid - Aromantic Bisexual

- Twisted from Shan Yu, from Mulan! I kept the greyer undertones in her skin which really makes her standout among the warmer ones lol.

- Kept the gold eyes, I love how piercing they look, and darker makeup. Turned the furs into little earring tassel things, idk just for fun.

- Definitely outdoorsy type, she loves to hike around a ton, bring some other classmen out with her. She comes from a hella cold climate so she's wearing shorts until it hits the negatives. Loves horseback riding too and her family has their own stables.

- Natural leader, I can see it being the captain of a sports team, maybe like cross-country or something. She and Leona are probably pretty similar in demeanour as captains, make of that what you will.

- Her and Rook do archery practise together and she actually gets along great with Epel, they bond over winter sports and whatnot.

Time for probably one of my favourites out of my ocs!

🐯Chanda Singh🐯

Second Year - (she/her) - Bisexual

God I love her sm.

- Twisted from Shere Khan from the Jungle Book, which I looked up and it takes place in India so she's Indian.

- I didn't want to give her solid orange hair so I settled for some streaks and I love how they look. Gave her a bindi, some thicker brows based on a Pinterest reference that I though was GORGEOUS, and some beautiful hazel eyes.

- She's also likes to be outside but more in the lazy cat way. She love to sunbathe and tends to be spotted around the greenhouse too. Chanda and Leona having cat solidarity lmaoooo. Though her behavior is solely because she's a cat and not depression lol.

- I dunno why but I think she's a totally history nerd, specifically fashion history. Ask her anything about the origins of corsets or sarees and she's go on a long rant about it. She loving drawing, namely fashion sketches and she and Vil work together whenever she makes some prototypes.

Finally!

🦜Nasira Haqq🦜

First Year (she/they) Unlabelled Gender - Bicurious?

- Twisted from Iago! She's so cute lol. I gave her dyed hair (and pronouns) and she's a freshman.

- Kinda takes after Jamil and enjoys cooking, one of the primary people that makes food for the parties. She and Kalim get along really well since they're both really social extraverts.

- She's loves flowers and tends to decorate the dorm with them, changing them out when there's an event coming up.

That's most of everything for Scarabia, I hope you enjoyed! Tyty once again and I love seeing y'all's tags omg!🩷🩷🩷

[mintytealfox]

You used to teach people how to pan for gold?

I did LOL the very simplified version of it and it was always hot as frick outside so hiding the fool's gold in the cool water down in the sand felt nice LOOOL (until fall would hit then my hands would be FREEZING AH) If I am remembering right we also had this hella creepy display where you would look down the glass window and you would see this miner down there with a canary with him, I can't remember if it slowly moved or not XD but I kind of remember the sound of this motor sound down in the basement where we would have lunch in the room next to him LOOOL we even had a 'prospector pit' for the kiddos and I thought it was lame as hell LOOOOL, but fun for kids, they would 'dig' in these rubber bits to get 'gems' 🙃🤣🤣🤣 The geologist, at the time, would get so excited about his rock and gem collection lol (I remember having to fight off the mean Geese up there, those things were HORRIBLE) (AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE CHICKENS THAT WOULD FIGHT ME ON THE WAY TO THE RESTROOM AAHHH I would have to run for my life through the gardens and slip through the little opening in the fence to ESCAPE LOL)

I also taught mock school at the school house to show people what school life was like in the late 1800s I had to ring the bell every hour! I actually legit hated that cause it was so LOUD when right next to it ah my ears are ringing just thinking about it ah and that heavy as hell mallet 🤣🤣 but it would be a different subject for each hour in the morning and then repeat for the afternoon.

And spinning thread (I was so bad at it oh my gosh) Talking about wool and the dying process 👍

and quilting (so now I know how to hand sew but the sewing machine still makes me scratch my head LOL)

and leather working (I would just talk about the types of leather and the process of tanning, I didn't do it myself that was for the experts. And I would only fill in when they needed an extra pair of hands 👍)

Taught some of the old dances too, but I hardly remember them now though -weeps-

and cooking in the old cast iron wood burning stove (where I got heat exhaustion cause there is a reason they would just cook outside or had a 'summer kitchen' during the summer months oh my GOSH) and I burnt EVERYTHING cause my pyromaniac self would make the fire too HOT LOL There were ladies who made THE BEST food in that thing though! like TOP TEIR BEST EVER! There is something about it that is just AHH SO EXTRA GOOOOD but anyway scraping out the ash afterwards was pretty satisfying and chopping more wood for the next day was liberating after dealing with some of the ANNOYING visitors (It was this dull as hell light little hatchet so it was all brute force and magic (finding where the log will likely split easiest) to pop those suckers in half oh my GOSH) This was also where my SEETHING, LOATHING, HAAATTEEEE for churning butter came from 😤😤 (cleaning that junk with freshly boiled water was the ACTUAL WORST, but at least I was allowed to use dawn dish soap and properly re-clean everything after closing for obvious reasons PFF)

This is only SOME of the stuff I did and had to learn so I could teach and perform LOOOOOL

//at least the laundry was fake but beating the rugs was one of my least favorite things like BRUH now all that GARBAGE DUST Is all over ME NOW AAAAAAA

lol whenever I hear 'oh man living in the 1800s would be fascinating' I say 'NO IT WOULDN'T, IT SUCKS, DON'T' 🤣🤣🤣

and the GHOSTS THERE I SWEAR I WAS ABOUT TO FIGHT SOME SUPERNATURAL RAAAAAAH

[theheromira]

Nimona appreciation post (Part 4 of idk how many there will be)

Sorry that took so long, I was a bit preoccupied with farming for Rizzley (Wriothesley in Genshin Impact) I'm just drinking some Tea and watching Nimona for probably the 50th time lol Sooo… here you go: Part 4 (again: GIF for attention)

Bal waking up, noticing the blanket, looking around, seeing the tea and candles (completely ignoring the hilt of the morning star behind te cup) and just sighing kind of content as if he wakes up like this often is just precious and supptly highlights his relationship with Amb and I just kind of love it, I guess

also Bal being awake and alert right away even tho he was just about to relax cause he prob thought he's with Amb and all is good and stuff is also kind of competent again

Nimona just vibing

"Go" by Santigold is just so good, how did I never heard of that one before?

also how Bal looks at Nim (prob) destroying his kitchen is funny as hell, idk

her eyes reflecting the lightning is a neat lil detail

Nim never bats an eye while she lies like this

also Bals reaction is soooo good, Riz Ahmed nailed this roll (all of the VAs did, but honestly: without him the movie wouldn't be the same)

first time Nim tells him directly not to be so gullible, but he remains so gullible

Breakfast Tacos

She dragged him in what form tho? If his head bounced on the sidewalk it probably couldn't have been her Gorilla or Horse form, I guess. What do y'all think?

"Totally happened."

"Evil Larry" is a much better name than the german version ("Böser Tiger" = "evil tiger" because one wird for evil in german is "bösartiger" and well, they took the pun but it sounds so stupid, idk… it isn't even a name)

Nimonas lil handgesture when she says: "That's a great villain name." also her face when she gets the idea for Evil Larry

"Never gonna happen.", he says with a very much Nope-Face "Whatever, Larry", she says without a fruk to give

Sick murderwall

I will not go into much detail about the contents of the muderwall here, but damn, the really didn't need to go that hard on those details

One thing I'm gonna cram in here tho cause I just saw the portrait of the queen: I recently read somewhere that they wanted to get Dr. Blitzmeyer (I hope I remember her name correctly lol) in the movie but ultimately scrapped her buuut they kept the design/color scheme for the queen and I just… Blitzmeyer helped and supported Comic!Bal, the queen helped and supported Movie!Bal (even if it's a bit of a different relationship, I guess) and that's kinda cute ngl. I kinda missed Dr. Blitzmeyer, she was my fav character in the comic and I was a bit sad that she didn't make it into the movie

Bals face (and probably the camera movement) when he remembers what happened when they broke out of the institute reminds me of some anime protag who goes a bit insane, but I can't remember a particular anime I feel remembered of

Bal always the knight, trying to get his sword when he feels threatened, even tho he doesn't even have it on him

the hand gesture to "Meatball" lol and also: very nice line delivery by Chloe Grace Moretz, she's also a big part of why I liked the character of Nimona (even tho I also like her design and personality, without a good VA a character can be not that likeable, if you know what I mean)

again with the eyes reflecting lightning, I love the lighting in this movie so much

she is in fact a massive, fire-breathing something

Bals brain just overheated and he decided to just roll with it and ask

She's Nimona. (one of my fav lines ever and I love that she get's to say that in at least one other scene)

I have a feeling that Bals answer to "I'm Nimona." ("That is not an answer.") is maybe something trans/genderfluid people get more than me (and def shouldn't cause why do they need to even get that? Why can't everyone just accept stuff like that?)

Bal getting at least one question is actually very nice of Nim ngl

also him not asking something about her but why she's helping him is kinda neat, I think he felt that that maybe would be a bit to much in Nimonas personal space atm

Bals eyes widen for just a second when Nim answers him and he remembers what situation he is in is kinda sad (btw. much of this movie wouldn't worked for me if they weren't so damn much animated/if they wouldn't be so much little details in the gestures, mannerisms and whatnot of the people)

him straight going to thinking-mode when looking at the murder.. I mean innocence wall

Bal looking sad at Ambs portrait is kind of a mood ngl

also him kind of forcing himself to look away (down), breathing in and then looking at the complete wall again is so very human, those charcters just feel to real

best photo of Diego (the squire)

Love how Nim wants to say kill him and stops herself when Bal turns towards her, without a doubt with a look on his face that says: Noooooo, bad shapeshifter

His reaction to "Let's got get him. You and me." is priceless lol

Bals hesitation (and probably inner monolouge) is kinda fun to see but also very undertandable, I mean: he knows her how long now? And even tho he redeems himself fast enough, here he is very much and very heavy still under the brain washing of the Institute and knows now that Nim is not human, so I kinda understand why he's so hesitant but he's desperate and she can (and will) voluntarily help him

Nim just rubbing salt in the wound, cause she knows exactly that he doesn't have much of a choice

He clearly wondered how she got there so fast and I love these kind of little reactions throughout the movie, they show how vigilant the character are and it feels even more real, cause let's be honest: if you're talking to someone who is like 10 steps away, you blink and then they are right before you, you'd also not gloss over that without so much as a second glance, would you?

love that Nim already moved from Sidekick-for-a-evil-villain to clear-his-name-and-be-a-hero-sidekick

Bal still not really trusting her but debating it

the shark transformation is just nice: the fluidity, the sound effect, Nims look, the lighting, the fact that you probably didn't really expect it, just *chefs kiss*

her "I'm not a girl, I'm a shark." is also very iconic, even tho it's used just one time in the movie; still one of the best lines ngl also her face when she says "But I'm not a girl." and the lil bite animation and sound is very nice

"Hey. You ever put your head in the mouth of one of these?", that line delivery and the animation for that and Bal already being done with the convo lol

"Should've just stayed in jail." lol

That's it for this part, I hope y'all are ok with the length, it really feels a bit smoother to write ^^ Have a good one and until next time :)

[syn4k]

Two Idiots, One Body | Start • Previous • Ao3 Link • Next (Coming Soon!)

Iskall woke up with a yawn and a tired grumble into the blankets still tucked up to his chin, eyes still shut as she rubbed them into functioning. Today there was important work to be done- the gathering of enchanted books, the formation of farms, and, most importantly, the annoying of Beef, assuming he was online at all. 

Opening his sleepy eyes to get them acclimated to the early morning light, Iskall shut them temporarily a moment more before suddenly sitting upright and looking around wildly. 

"This is Beef's house," she said out loud, getting out of bed as quickly as his legs would allow without collapsing under her torso. "This- what? Dude. What?"

Confused as fuck, Iskall wandered around Beef's house, absently taking note of how nice it was. The kitchen was well-planned and well-cleaned, there was a little hallway up to the stairs, and the living room was tastefully decorated and thoughtfully arranged, if not exactly to Iskall's taste. 

The main question here, obviously, was how the fuck he'd gotten here, because unless she'd gotten blackout drunk or something, Iskall definitely had not gone anywhere near Beef's house yesterday except for to sneakily replace a block or two in the floor. Which was concerning. 

Come to think of it, thought Iskall now, making the split second decision to borrow one of Beef's glasses and a little of his milk to sip as he took a seat at the dining table, she didn't remember anything of yesterday. Or at least he was pretty sure it was yesterday. Yeah, the server had started yesterday on Monday. Today was Tuesday, right? 

He pulled out his phone to check the date. It was Wednesday. 

Well, shit. 

Several people had also messaged her to let him know that Beef had been online yesterday and she had completely missed it. 

Well, shit! 

<Iskall85> stress  <Iskall85> did i get really stupidly drunk yesterday and do something that i'm going to regret once i remember what it is  <Stressmonster101> idk did u? <Iskall85> IM BEING SERIOUS  <Mumbo> Mate you weren't even online yesterday  <Mumbo> are you ok  <Iskall85> i think i might need to see a doctor for memory issues  <Docm77> what kind of doctor lol  <Iskall85> NOT YOU  <PearlescentMoon> wow 

With a sigh, Iskall stood up and walked out of the door. There was only one person he could think of who could help her solve this mystery. 

-- 

"Nope," said Xisuma, eyes unreadable behind his helmet as he scrolled back through several days' worth of server logs. "No teleportation commands have been used on either you or Beef since you joined. I have no idea how you ended up in his house." 

"Well, that's just great," sighed Iskall, one hand placed on his hip in habitual annoyance. "I can't even ask him what's going on because he's not online right now!" 

"Hm," said X, tone indicating that his mind was drifting elsewhere at the moment. "You said you'd only visited once?"

"Yes, yesterday," said Iskall. "To fix his house. The whole thing is really weird, man. I woke up in his bed." 

X glanced over at her, and Iskall realized too late that he might have said too much. "You woke up in his bed without realizing how you got there," he said, deadpan. 

Iskall had to fight to maintain eye contact. "Yes," she said. "I swear it's not what it looks like. Come on," he added, finally breaking composure and snickering into one hand, "we hate each other, dude." 

Xisuma sighed. "I'm not calling you a liar, Iskall," he said. "I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here. Whatever you two have going on is," he waved one gloved hand vaguely in the air beside him, "none of my business." 

Iskall groaned in sudden realization. "Wait. Oh no. Now everybody's going to think we're together! X. I-sooma. You need to do me a favor." 

"I need to do you a favor?" asked Xisuma, raising one eyebrow. 

"Yes," said Iskall, leaning forwards desperately. "If anyone, ANYONE asks about me and Beef, please tell them that we have nothing to do with each other. We are not together. We haven't even been online at the same time. Please. Grian would never shut up about it." 

X blinked twice, assuming the exact air of a lizard who had just walked outside into the middle of a hurricane expecting its natural habitat of the desert. "Ok." 

Iskall clapped her hands and rubbed them together, standing up. "Okay. Great. Thanks a million, man. I need to get home before my cookies burn. Bye!" 

"Good luck," X called after him as she ran out of the door, sighing as it closed behind him with a slam. Sometimes he really wondered how he ended up in this situation. 

"Would've been nice to be an admin for a normal Minecraft server, you know," he grumbled to nobody in particular as he leaned back in his chair and took a second glazed look at the admin console that was still pulled up in front of him. "If those even exist." 

-- 

Iskall hummed to herself as he hammered a sign directly into Beef's nice shiny hardwood floors, the surface of it still shining with fresh black paint. She figured that if he was going to not even bother to be on at the same time as him, she may as well leave a message while he was at it. 

Noticing a typo, Iskall quickly painted over it in red paint, then stepped back to admire his work. Hallo Beef, the sign read. Where are you? We keep logging on at different times. We should coordinate something. Your loving neighbour, Iskall. 

With a stretch and a yawn, she walked out of the house, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Beef would be online to shut it tomorrow, if present trends persisted. Besides, her head was starting to go all foggy. Iskall figured it was time for a quick afternoon nap. He just hoped she didn't miss anything.

[thevalleyoftriumph]

One final ask before I head to bed

How does second meeting chosen go?

I’ve a hc that second simply comes to visit after showdown, to make sure chosen is alright, I’m curious what everyone’s thoughts is on that

He’s on beasts “yeah alright I trust him” list, but beast trusts him in combat, what about regular day to day things? Just hanging out? Eating sandwiches? That’s gotta be different right?

And chosen and killer, do they like him? Are they envious of him? Does one like him more than the other?

How quickly do they realise that uh. Second doesn’t remember how showdown ended. And who realises first?

Idk idk there’s a lot that can happen and I’m curious of your hc’s for it. Going to bed now. Goodnight

HEHE GOODNIGHT ANON!!! thank you dearly for the Even More questions <33 i hope you have a very nice sleep

as usual, responses are under the cut ^_^

1: How does second meeting chosen go?

Oh man okay. So like, if we don't count the brief meeting before the final fight, and then the little bow interaction after, then the two would've officially met sometime later I'd say? Somewhere between Showdown and Wanted for sure, I'm a sucker for the hollowheads actually interacting lol.

I'd say it'd be a very big "hey wait a minute what the hell are you doing here" moment at first, before Chosen just sorta resigns himself to the fact that Second is probably going to just keep dropping by to check in every once and a while whether he likes it or not [and if he's secretly fine with it because it's an excuse to actually clean up the house and keep the kitchen stocked instead of wallowing in his room all day well then that's his business and no one needs to know that damn it]

I think out of the three, Killer is actually the most trusting, and actually pretty fond of Second! Chosen is close behind, but he's got a healthy dose of respect for the guy after seeing them in action so there's a bit of "man you could totally kick my ass if you felt like it. That's cool I think. Please don't do that actually." in there lol. For the most part they like Second after a while, and warm up to them.

You'd be right to assume that it's definitely different with Beast though! Beasts little "trusted people" list can be pretty solidly split between "ally in combat" trust and "genuine everyday trust" , and while that does slightly spread to the others [ie, Chosen can respect and appreciate Second, but was a bit hesitant at first thanks to Literally Everything] it's mostly seen in Beast. Honestly if it saw Second again outside of a battle it'd probably briefly think "oh shit is something happening do I need to like. Attack someone. What's going on why're they here" and it'd take some time to unlearn that association with them.

Despite all this, though - despite eventually warming up, Chosen is shockingly the most hesitant to actually start liking them to any degree. Killer does the fastest, mostly because they're probably the only extroverted person there to match Second's energy, and Beast is next up solely because of previous reason to trust them, but Chosen?

Sure, he knows Second is on his side. He knows they're doing this to be a decent person and to be nice. He knows they literally saved him and their friends. But despite logically knowing that Second is [mostly] harmless, he cannot stop the instinctive fear that comes with the whole "watched this guy murk his best friend/brother like it was NOTHING" thing. It's not major, in comparison to a lot of things. It's not even enough to prevent him from interacting with Second, especially not in polite company. But it IS enough for him to be on edge for a while.

Though again, after a bit of time passes he does end up putting a lot of his real genuine trust into Second. They are the first person the three think to go to for help, after all. That is, at the very least, one thing they agree on.

To add on; I think Killer likes Second for their creativity, Chosen likes Second for their kindness and eagerness to help others, and Beast likes Second for their strength and their loyalty to their friends [mostly because it relates to the need to protect those it cares about.]

2: How quickly do they realise that uh. Second doesn’t remember how showdown ended. And who realises first?

I'm gonna be so honest it's either Killer or Beast who put two-and-two together first. Killer because any time they bring it up to ask Literally Anything, Second just kinda politely nods along with this confused look and they know damn well Second's just playing along and has no idea what they're on about. Killer is pretty observant when it comes to other sticks and their feelings [probably the only emotionally aware alter there lol]. Beast because, well, surely someone that powerful would be displaying that power as much as they can, right? Be it as intimidation to ward off anyone wishing to do them or their loved ones harm, or maybe just as a casual brag, or even just for stupid everyday tasks. Anything to use the power given, anything to acknowledge it and the things they've done. To Beast, the only way it makes sense that they wouldn't is if they didn't know.

Chosen finds out literally the day of Wanted just like in source simply because I think it's a little funny lol. He's got his suspicions before that but he mostly just brushes it off as like.. trauma blocking the memory Mostly out like how his own memories do.

So like, while I don't know the FULL amount of time between Showdown and Wanted, let's just for the sake of discussion say it was about ehhh a year or two. Not saying I think it did but just for timeline purposes - feel free to stretch this out or compress it depending on the time You Personally think was between it.

With this in mind; if Chosen finds out during Wanted two years after Showdown, then Killer and Beast probably realize at first that somethin' ain't right with Second over the course of 8 or 9 months after Showdown, and ACTUALLY figure it out 2months after the 1st year passes [or 14 months after Showdown if that's easier for you to visualize]. Compress or stretch that timeline as you see fit bc timelines in AVA are a mess lol, but regardless; Chosen's a little slow on the realization here because it'd be funny.

This next half of the post isn't in response to any question and is just misc. rambling about anything that comes to mind about these guys interacting because you got me Thinking-

-but I just like the idea of Second meeting Killer and Beast and Knowing That That's Happening. LIKE IDK I feel like they'd end up getting along individually after a while. Second would probably be a little perplexed at first before just going No that makes sense carry on ^_^

I also like the idea of Beast, having since decided that Second is worth trusting Personally [which would take a hell of a long time considering the last time it trusted someone outside of battle it ended with Dark dead [presumably] somewhere and new issues regarding bugs/spiders.] had taken one look at Second, and one look at the CG, and went "no absolutely not you cannot go out fighting things as self taught fighters your stances are WRONG your punches are WEAK and you are NOT PROTECTING YOUR MIDDLE. Get INTO the sparring room I am TEACHING YOU PROPER TECHNIQUE" lol. Very aggressive signing and glaring. Chosen and Killer are in full support of this but for different reasons [Chosen just prefers the people he knows to be safe and able to protect themselves, Killer is silently cataloging as much as they can about the others' fighting styles]

Anyway I just think Beast is so used to itself knowing how to properly fight AND Dark knowing how that when it sees self taught fighters who are half its size and used to video game mechanics vs actual living experience, it just short circuits and briefly forgets that it's supposed to be scary and intimidating and instead is like Okay I gotta fix that they're gonna get themselves killed and that's gonna be REALLY upsetting for us. It's like when people joke that they were in the middle of a breakdown and then someone says something so baffling that they just. Stop crying. It is the FUNNIEST thing to me.

[nientedal]

my phone is being annoying but BOOK EMOJI

ahahaha omg 😂 ok so book emoji, talking about a fic i have in my head but have never written down!

stereotypical amnesia fic beneath the cut, lol

Roxanne gets into some kind of accident and hits her head. Wakes up in the hospital with her mother dozing in a chair. Mom is OVERJOYED Roxanne is awake; it's been sort of touch and go for a while as to whether she would wake up at all. She's had people working on a solution but this will be such good news, hooray, she's lucid, she's feeling mostly fine--

And then Roxanne sees the ring on her finger, and oh. Okay. She is not fine, actually. She's lost nearly all of the last three years, and several prior to that are exceptionally spotty.

Her mom is left with the unenviable position of navigating some...ah...fairly major news. Yes, you're very happy together. Three rings, right, wedding band and two engagement; you're sort of...well, also married to his best friend? What's that word your brother is...? Aromantic, queerplatonic, yes. Neither of them is anyone I would have ever picked for you, but you're happy and I do know when I'm beaten, so... well, anyway, the only reason your man isn't here is I made him go home to take a shower and a nap. And to start putting together a better MRI scanner so he would stop fretting over your charts. Yes, he's building it himself. And no I haven't said his name yet, and... yes you do probably already know him, it's just-- well, you see-- um-- tell, tell you what, let's call Wayne, shall we? I think this will probably sound a little better coming from Wayne--

So that's a thing.

Roxanne takes the news...not well, but not totally poorly either. Mostly she's just stunned. But if her mother can admit she's happy with Megamind, that says a lot. That's...promising. Reassuring. And Wayne confirms everything her mother has said, which is similarly reassuring.

Megamind, on the other hand, takes it VERY poorly. Wayne says she's awake and his heart leaps, and then Wayne says there's a slight problem, her last clear memory of you is from early 2009, and his heart sort of collapses in his chest. He's been working on his self-worth and has come a long way but he's had a long two weeks and right now, from where he's sitting, all he can think is that Roxanne was a miracle that is not going to happen twice. This is absolutely the end for them. He'll start researching divorce lawyers immediately.

(Roxanne is initially of the opinion that yes, that is probably for the best, but Wayne convinces her to at least give the little guy a chance. Come on, Roxie, for Minion’s sake. Please?)

From here it's sort of...Roxanne slowly regaining her footing. Traumatic brain injuries are a helluva drug; her mind works differently from how it used to and it's a struggle sometimes in ways she doesn't expect. And she can't remember things she wants to and it's SO disorienting, and Megamind and Minion are obviously both struggling as well for other reasons but they are being so lovely with her, and she keeps shying away and it's awful, she hates it. Megamind gave her a photo album to maybe help her put some things together, and it isn't really working yet but maybe if she just keeps at it she'll be able to remember just a little more-- okay, Wayne was right, he is worth trying, but come ON, brain, fucking WORK--

Megamind wanders down to the kitchen in the wee hours one morning a few weeks later for a snack or something and Roxanne is there with the album. She's...having a little bit of a moment. Little bit of a cry. She's sitting at the kitchen table looking at this one picture that someone took of all three of them-- Megamind and Roxanne and Minion when they were on some vacation somewhere together and Roxanne snuck up behind the other two to pounce on them and hug both of them at once. So she's in the middle with her arms around their shoulders and all three of them are laughing. And she's like, "I can't remember this and I WANT TO, we look so HAPPY and I don't know if I'll ever get any of this back-- you're so sweet to me now and your bed smells like home and I don't know why and I want to, I want to--"

He's been keeping his distance since she came home. Has been waiting and letting her initiate whatever contact between them. But he goes to her now and pulls her into a hug without thinking because he cannot fucking stand it, and she just wraps her arms around him as hard as she can.

"Okay," he says, patting her hair and trying to think of what to do and mostly just wanting to burst into tears right along with her. "Okay. It's okay."

It's not okay. It's not okay and she doesn't know how to make it be okay, but it's been a few weeks and Roxanne is tired of waiting to maybe remember and tired of hoping for something that isn't coming and tired in general, and so she asks him to come to bed with her. Just stay with her, please; she's freaking out and she wants to be held, and fuck it. Fuck it. Come to bed.

In the morning at breakfast, hearing all this, Minion says, okay. So, photo album isn't working, or if it is it's not working the way we were hoping for. New plan: let's go on another trip? Let's all go somewhere together. Traveling. Maybe go see some places we've seen already, definitely go see some places we've never seen. Maybe your old memories will come back and maybe they won't, but either way we'll make new memories and have a good time making them. Let's go.

.............And idk if that's the end of the story or if there's more story that's just them going around places. I haven't played much with the traveling itself

[know-the-way]

Phrack 20!

Hi! I know it’s like a month later, but I have finally fulfilled this prompt. Thank you so much for sending it! :)

Um… just gonna put it out there that I really struggled to finish this. lol It was rewritten countless times to the point that like… I don’t even know what it is anymore, ya know? So I hope it makes at least a little bit of sense. I tried, I promise. Okay, thank you again, bye!

(and a special shout-out to @glamorouspixels for beta’ing one of the many drafts of this, everyone give a round of applause for them)

A kiss… on a scar. (This prompt is a part 2 to this fic.)

tw: mentions of past abuse

He always asks where she’d rather go and her answer is always the same.

It’s just past midnight and the events of the day are etched on both their faces. He’s sat shirtless and exhausted on the sofa; head hung and breathing deep, save for a sharp hiss now and then when she hits a particularly sensitive spot. A basin of warm water swirls with iodine and faint traces of blood on the coffee table. She’s already mended the gash on his lower abdomen and is dabbing at the broken skin of his knuckles.

On nights like these, after particularly difficult cases, she finds herself seeking refuge in his arms. This isn’t something that surprises her - long before she and Jack even entertained the idea of a relationship, they had formed a sort of unofficial tradition where the case wasn’t truly closed until they shared a drink. It was so easy then to write it off as something light-hearted; a charming wrap up among intellectually-matched colleagues, but she sees now how even then it was far more intimate. In all of those feather-light conversations, the answers to their deeper, unspoken sentiments - are you okay? will any of it stay with you once we say goodnight? I’m here whenever you need, we’ll see each other soon - were affirmed in the subtle expressions they both somehow, intuitively, could interpret between each other. But that just isn’t enough anymore.

“All done,” she says, taping the last piece of sterile gauze around his hand and then rising to empty the basin in the neighboring kitchen sink. “Next time, if you must, try to remember that one or two punches usually does the trick. Twenty or more is rather excessive.”

He chuckles softly, nodding with a resigned tiredness and a bit of remorse. “I will. … Though, under certain circumstances, I can make no guarantees.”

She raises her brows fondly, moving to sit next to him on the sofa. “Are you actually admitting that you might lose control from time to time, inspector?”

He raises his arm for her to duck under it, which she does; settling against his side and resting her head on his shoulder - a gesture that’s become as natural as breathing for them both. He tugs her in close by the waist, his other hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “Only when things very precious to me are in danger.”

Oh, dear man.

She wishes she had the strength to produce a witty retort; to maintain some levity for the both of them, but in truth the emotions of the day are stacking up all at once and the weight on her chest is becoming far too heavy to ignore. They’d both feared for each other’s lives at one point tonight and with the adrenaline waning, the gravity of the situation is taking its place; forcefully pushing her down to a sobering reality that’s threatening to swallow her whole. She’s not ready to be consumed yet, though; not when she’s only just settled into his arms. So instead of whispering the returned endearment on her lips (“You’re very precious to me, too, Jack Robinson”), she distracts herself by reaching up to trace the lines of his face with her fingertips.

She loves Wardlow; it is the home she built for herself, a fortress that keeps within it the people and things she holds dear, but there is something about joining him in the quiet of his flat that brings her a kind of solace she can’t seem to replicate anywhere else. Here, they have each other’s full attention; there’s no threat of accidental interruptions nor worry over perceived impropriety; no responsibility or obligation that comes with being the head of house or a prominent social figure. At Jack’s place - it’s just them and what they choose to fill the silence with.

“You looked frightened,” he tells her, an unprompted explanation for his actions this evening, and for a moment all she can do is nod silently.

A standoff with their perpetrator had escalated quickly as the sounds of their arriving backup grew closer. The case had started with a murdered woman found two days ago; her house looted and her niece missing. As they worked through the case, every piece of evidence filled Phryne with dread; the story feeling more and more familiar as they put it all together. When they finally identified and caught up to the man, the girlfriend who had tried to escape his repeated violence was weeping and shaking in his arms with a knife held to her throat. Phryne had taken one look into her eyes and instantly saw a younger version of herself reflected back at her - a broken-hearted girl, cold and bruised and scared on the streets of Paris.

It all happened in a blur from there - doors kicked opened, a gunshot, a scream, a scramble for power… then suddenly a hand was fisted painfully in her hair… and had this been a few years ago, she would have found herself back in France, crying on her knees in a freezing flat with broken windows and creaking floorboards. She would have cowered at the menacing shadow of her past towering over her and begged for mercy as if she were living it all over again. But instead she heard the call of her name, clear and present and real, and her footing was instantly found, twisting out of her attacker’s hold and kicking him backwards into the arms of her enraged lover.

With the help of Hugh, they just managed to pull Jack off before he faced charges of his own.

Sitting here with him now, she hates that the image he’s left with from tonight is of her being frightened. She knows he’s blaming himself for it somehow, because he has before - and just like before, he doesn’t realize he was actually her saving grace.

There is a way, though, perhaps - to help him see it.

“You know, I’ve just remembered something,” she says with a soft edge of mischief and he narrows his eyes suspiciously, clearly suspecting that she’s trying to avoid the subject at hand. “I never did keep my end of the deal… to tell you about a scar of mine.”

“Oh,” Jack chuckles under his breath, brows knitting in bemused confusion, “While I’m pleasantly surprised you remembered, and even more so that you admitted it,” she gives him an annoyed purse of her lips that he pretends not to see, “I wouldn’t hold you to that tonight.” He pauses then, considering something, and then smiles warmly, “Unless, of course, you’d like me to ‘kiss it better’.”

She rolls her eyes fondly in response, sighs out a laugh (which he shares), and then she reaches up to stroke his cheek. Looking at him sincerely, she says soft as a whisper, “What if I told you that you already had?”

Before Jack, she only took the company of lovers in her own space, on her own terms, and with the knowledge that her staff was close at hand should a visitor ever outstay their welcome. It was a safety net she began constructing for herself back in 1919 and every thread of it since had been woven with materials made up entirely of her. Phryne Fisher was not beholden to anyone, but herself, by design. She was strong enough not to need others and self-sufficient enough to fight her own battles. But… fighting alone for so long did become exhausting. Being strong always was until someone gave you the space not to be. Others had tried to be that space before, but their intentions were always built on hollow promises; declarations made to a version of herself they had idealized in their minds. Versions she simply refused to entertain.

There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes, but more than anything he looks curious and (somewhat adorably) confused. Gently, she grabs his hand and guides it up to her face. Her fingers resting over his, she presses them against her bottom lip, sliding them to the corner of her mouth so that the skin is pulled taut. He doesn’t understand at first, locks eyes with her; questioning, and she silently bids him to look again. She knows he sees it when the squint of his eyes softens and he carefully strokes his thumb back over the spot.

In the center of her bottom lip is a small, jagged scar, only visible when the skin is stretched and the pink color of her lips fades to white. It’s not something anyone would notice unless she wants them to (a fitting metaphor she tries not to dwell on). Up until now, she’s shown exactly one person, save for those who were there when it happened. She’s always been too proud and, if she’s honest with herself, too afraid of the reaction she might get; too convinced that she’ll be looked at differently or treated her like a fragile broken thing in need of pity. But Jack proved to her a long time ago that no matter what anyone else saw, he would always see her.

He stares at it intently for a few long moments, mesmerized as he repeatedly swipes over it, “What’s this from?”

Keeping her eyes on his face, she stills his hand with hers. “It’s from a long time ago. When I was 18, as it happens… and very naive.”

“We’ve all made some regretful choices at 18,” he murmurs affectionately, referencing the story he’d shared with her.

“Yes, well… youth makes you blind to many things. It keeps you from seeing trouble that’s right in front of you.”

“Hm,” he hums idly, “So what kind of trouble did a young Miss Fisher get herself into?”

She’s quiet a moment, something stirring in her as she watches him continue to examine the spot. “Will you promise me something first?”

His gaze turns upward, the lines of concentration on his forehead fading as he looks her over and his lips turn up into a crooked half-smile, “I won’t laugh.”

She huffs softly off a click of her tongue, feigning offense, then lifts her hand to smooth through his hair, “I know you won’t, Jack. No, I… “ she takes a deep breath, “Can you promise to believe that every word I say is true?”

The lines in his forehead have returned and he lightly shakes his head in confusion, “Of course. Why on earth wouldn’t I?”

She brushes her hand across his cheek reassuringly, “I trust you’ll know once I get to the end.”

The worried suspicion is lingering in his eyes and she feels herself losing her nerve, but after a moment - he nods, “Alright.”

Well then, she thinks, no turning back now.

Straightening herself up from his embrace, she sits on her knees, resting her elbow on the back of the sofa. Jack reaches for her hand and she lets him take it, entwining her fingers with his, thankful for the tether she’s likely going to need. “Do you remember one of the first cases you and I worked on? Pierre Sarcelle? It involved a certain… painting of me being stolen?”

“Ah,” he says, the memory of it playing across his features, “Yes, I… I think I recall.”

She’s amused that still flusters him; occasionally she’ll catch him nervously side-eyeing it in her bedroom and it tickles her that even after seeing the real thing many times now, that painting is what makes him blush. If only the story behind it was equally as amusing. “And the murderer… René Dubois. Do you remember him, as well?”

“Unfortunately,” Jack mutters and she thinks he must be catching on because he sits up to hold her hand with both of his now.

“He… What did I tell you about him at the time?” she asks, genuinely unable to recall.

Jack exhales slowly, searching his own memory. “That he was… a past lover, who you knew to be dangerous… and likely a murderer,” he says plainly, stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb before turning rather serious. “And though you didn’t tell me this at the time, I knew you were rather terrified of him.”

Yes, she remembers that, too. Every one of her senses had been heightened waiting for René to walk through the door of Café Repliqué. Every sound pushed her further on edge, and when he finally appeared, her body froze in what felt like shock. The Phryne of 1928 wasn’t afraid of him, but in that moment - the Phryne of 1918 took over and all she knew was ice cold fear.

“I was,” she tells Jack, who leans in closer to her, “I was terrified. At the time, he was one of the darker shadows in my life, and knowing he was nearby… that he’d been in my home even, was… deeply unsettling.”

“Mm… I remember Dot describing the bruise he gave you in her statement,” Jack confesses, staring down at their joined hands as he fidgets with one of her rings.

She closes her eyes for moment; takes a deep breath, “Unfortunately, that wasn’t the first he gave me.”

Jack looks up cautiously, an immediate understanding in his eyes which shatters the part of her that likes to pretend it never happened. Without further preamble, tears start gathering and she really, really doesn’t want them to fall this soon. She needs to make it to the end of this. Because even though there’s a faint whisper of hesitance in the back of her mind, here with him - she feels safe, at peace, and entirely unafraid. Because she finally has the words… and if not now - she may never find them again.

He hasn’t said anything, but Phryne sees his jaw tighten as his eyes search hers, silently seeking permission to move closer to her. She grants it by lifting one of his hands and placing it on her waist. He slides it around the small of her back and traces soothing circles there.

“You don’t have to say more,” he whispers sincerely, “Sod the deal, love; this isn’t a fair trade.”

A look of sorrow and longing accompany her responding smile, one of her hands hooking around the back of his neck and the other resting over his heart, “It is. Because I want to tell you… it’s important I do. It’s important to me .”

He presses his lips together, searching her eyes for a moment, and then gives her one of his signature, almost-imperceptible nods. “Then it’s important to me, too.”

She nods back, takes a moment to collect herself, and sighs. “You asked what trouble my younger self got into, yes?”

He nods again.

“Well… just after the war, in Paris, the younger and more naive version of me had no desire to return home to England, so she settled in with a group of friends she knew from the field.” He’s staying silent, giving her the same space she gave him, but even without looking at his face, she can feel the warmth of his support reaching out for her, offering a soft landing should she need to fall. “There wasn’t much work to be had, but she got by through modeling for local artists - sculptors, painters… it was all very bohemian,” they share a brief smile, “And one day, she met a man… another artist, who was very charming, very mysterious… and he made her feel like she was special.“

“Monsieur Dubois, I take it?” Jack asks in a low voice, attempting to hide the building disdain he feels for the man.

“The very same,” she confirms, smoothing her fingertips over his collarbones nervously, “Her friends tried to warn her at the time - the good monsieur had a reputation, you see. But… for some odd reason, she had rather a penchant for ignoring good advice in favor of chasing danger… “

“Imagine that,” Jack smirks in faux surprise. “I wonder if she ever grew out of such a habit.”

“Well… “ she pouts defiantly, avoiding looking into his eyes, “That’s not exactly relevant at the moment.”

“Mm,” he acknowledges quietly. “Something to circle back to.”

She briefly narrows her eyes, lightly shoving his shoulder, and continues, “Anyhow… it was all very nice for a while. The nicest she’d ever felt, actually. He said such pretty words and made so many impassioned promises. And it was in that dreamy haze that she did something rather foolish: she fell in love with him.”

Jack’s arms wrap tighter around her, enough to reassure, but not to smother. She takes a beat, smiling sadly, and looks up into his eyes for what she says next.

“Even more foolish, she let herself get so lost in him that she didn’t even realize she’d given him everything she had in the process,” her voice cracks slightly here, but she ignores it, “Her affection, her body, her money. All of herself. And then one day… he wanted more.” She takes a few cleansing breaths, her hands resting on his chest to support herself, “But she had nothing left to give… and he didn’t like that at all.” She feels more than sees the slight gulp he takes; he knows what comes next. “So one night he grabbed her by the hair, forced her to the floor, and when she cried and pleaded, he called her… such awful things… and then he hit her.” She says it so plainly she might as well be commenting on the weather, but the tension in her body says otherwise. “Without remorse nor restraint. Slapped her so hard across the face that her lip split, right along with her heart.”

Despite her best efforts, a warm tear slides down her cheek, but she cares not to hide it now. She can feel Jack’s breathing becoming deeper, the quickening beat of his heart, the rise of heat on his skin. She knows what it is to have knowledge of a loved ones pain that it’s too late to save them from; knows how infuriating and helpless it feels, but for her he stays steady. He knows that she needs him to.

“I lost her for a while after that. I was worried she’d never come back, to be honest. But slowly, she returned, and I swore to never let anyone take her from me again. Anytime someone got too close, I felt the bump of that scar on my lip, held her tighter, and ran.”

Without realizing it, she’s leaned in so close that her forehead is resting against his and he’s quietly encouraging her to match his breathing, slow and deep. “I… “ she breathes in a few more times, focuses on the warmth of his hands on her waist, “I didn’t love anyone again, Jack. I was too afraid that someone loving me was the same as owning me… and loving them back meant that I was allowing them to.”

“Darling… “ it comes out so soft, she barely hears it, but it’s no less full of the understanding and compassion that is so very him.

“That day at the café, when we were waiting to catch him, I felt panic in a way I hadn’t since 1918. And when he walked through the door, I was petrified; everything around me froze and it felt like I was that broken girl in Paris again. Everything I’d learned to protect myself crumbled into nothing and I was so scared,” she pulls back just enough to look into his eyes again, “Then you kissed me… no Jack, let me finish… you kissed me… and you brought me back. You brought me back to 1928 and I wasn’t afraid anymore. Nor have I been since - for anything - when I know you’re there with me.”

Embraces that felt suffocating in others’ arms now feel liberating in his… stillness she once feared akin to defeat now feels like peace. She knows, if ever she asks him to let go, he will. Without hesitation. And it’s because of that she holds him all the tighter.

He’s shaking his head, lips pressed together as as if he’s refusing to accept what she’s said, “That can’t be because of me. Phryne, you are the strongest, bravest… most frustratingly hard-headed person I know… you can do anything all on your own.”

She huffs out a teary, adoring laugh, lightly framing his face, “That’s not what I meant, Jack.” Sliding into his lap, carefully avoiding the injury on his side, she smiles when he reaches up to brush away one of her tears. “You’re right, I can do all of those things, and I would, but it doesn’t mean I’m not scared. … Except when you’re there, or even sometimes just when I know you’re on the way.”

Eyes glassy, he swallows thickly, hand resting where her neck meets her shoulder, “I think you’re giving me too much credit, Miss Fisher… “

She tilts her head to the side, sighing in loving exasperation, “You promised to believe me, Jack… every word.“

The reservation on his face quickly settles into tender obeisance, hands falling to her hips and squeezing lightly as he nods. “So I did. And I do.”

“Good,” she says, hiding the sudden trembling of her hands by anchoring them to his shoulders. “Because I told you once that I needed you to remind me not to be afraid of shadows. And you have - back on that day at Café Repliqué and every day since.” She hopes, through sheer force of will, that he can see all the moments flitting through her mind - her sister’s murderer, her father’s vengeful cousin, a corrupt vineyard town, the insidious silence of a docked cargo ship on a foggy night. “Tonight, when that man had me by my hair, for a moment I was frightened; for a moment I almost felt like I was in Paris - but then I heard you yell for me and you brought me back again.”

There were very few constants in her life, even fewer that she’d count as blessings, but Jack had witnessed both her best and her worst; had walked with her through darknesses she thought she’d never face again… and still he was here beside her. Not trying to fix her, to tame her, or to step in front - never asking anything of her, but to be the best and worst of her whole self.

The tide within her is rising again, on the precipice of pulling her under, but she just needs a moment more; just needs him to hear this last bit. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she clings to him, her voice muffling into his hair, “I’ve never had to run from you, Jack darling, because you never tried to take anything from me… God, even when I wanted you to.”

The vibration of their joined laughter soothes her like a warm bath and her tears flow freely down her face. “But you have given so many precious things to me,” she tells him on a sob, “Some of which I thought I’d never be capable of again.”

”Phryne,” he murmurs into her neck, his voice thick with emotion as his hand cradles the back of her head, “I can only say the same, my darling.”

She presses her lips to his neck, his temple, his cheek, her vision blurred with tears, though she scans over his face, anyway. “I love you,” she whispers earnestly, kissing him once softly, “I love you so dearly, please know that.”

His hand cups her cheek, tears gathering on the thumb he gently runs over her bottom lip once more, “I promise I do. And I promise, without any give or take, I love you just as dearly. Helplessly even, I fear.”

She manages a quiet laugh, leaning into him as he brushes his lips over hers with purposeful gentleness. “Good.”

Her safety net has frayed at the edges over the years, but she never fears of it breaking. It will always be there; she will always be able catch herself. But slowly she’s been weaving in threads of Jack and she notes now that, when she falls, it is far softer and far steadier than it ever was before.

End Note: Just want to be clear - neither Jack nor Phryne are saying the kiss in Café Repliqué was okay. Obviously, ensuring consent is always a requirement. Nonetheless, the effect of the kiss - in this fic - is a positive one. Of which I hope I have done a decent job of explaining/portraying. Thank you! xx 💙

[naneun-no]

7 Things

🌸🕺🏻🥊💟🩲🫦👖

(My thoughts are scattered lately so here are seven strays, if anyone actually reads this lmk your thoughts!)

🌸 1. Was listening to Wild Flower and was reminded once again how much I wish Jimin could have sung the chorus 🤣 I totally get why he didn’t, I get that it was RM’s thing, and it’s really cool how many different artists he was able to collab with for Indigo. I just can totally hear Jimin belting in his indie-girl voice when I hear youjeen and it makes me wistful. I know I’m not the only one.

🕺🏻2. Speaking of indie-girl voice, I’m trying to manage expectations for JM’s album but I love his voice and vibe so much I’m having a hard time tempering my excitement. I’m sorta hoping for some sort of fusion of Prince, FINNEAS, the song Promise and Jimin’s verse in Vibe 😅 but also, I’m looking forward to being surprised. What about y’all?

🥊 3. I’m cracking up, Jimin is still shameless. Out there for everyone to see talking that flirty shit all “Keep growing and protect hyung 🥺”, bitch —

💟 This might piss people off, but 4. I had kind of written off Dreamers after listening to it a few good times when it first came out. It was okay to me, but just that. Okay. After watching the Bangtan Bomb for Dreamers I’m way more into the song, and can I just say — that is Big Hit’s entire marketing scheme in a nutshell and I can’t stress that enough. I’m even aware of it, and it still works like a charm on me. Cause like, that second verse of Dreamers is almost objectively bad. The weird rap-sing combo with meaningless lyrics that does absolutely nothing to support the lofty beauty of the chorus. And that’s not Jung Kook’s fault, he didn’t write it, but imo, it’s still a pretty mediocre submission to the world history of recorded music. But seeing JK in the studio stressing and poring over the sheets and doing his best and learning the choreo and working his ass off makes me listen to it with rose-colored… eardrums (bad metaphor sorry) and next thing I know I’m jamming to it while I clean the kitchen, singing along to that second verse like it’s poetry. So it’s as a good a time as any to remember that while BTS does in fact make good music, sometimes very good music, not all of it is equally good* — and some of it is very close to being not good at all — but we are conditioned to like it anyways because we love the seven men who are making it. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Just… you know. We should probably recognize it, at least occasionally. *I realize Dreamers isn’t a BTS song, but the same applies to certain ones they’ve made/collaborated on. Thoughts?

🩲5. Are we all ready to accept that JK is not going to be the next face of CK? Lol. I guess it could still happen, but I sort of began to doubt it when my boy was downing beer and scarfing chicken two nights in a row. We know that ain’t the way he eats when he has a photoshoot coming up, lol. Even if it wasn’t Jung Kook, CK still got themselves an itty bitty waist big eyed beauty though, so I’ll be respectfully enjoying myself some Jennie in her underwear for the time being 😘

The last two are song recs:

🫦 6. Trigger, Seori. From 2020.

Or do you wanna bite my lips and taste my blood? Come be dirty with me.

*shivers in bisexual*

👖7. Hurt, New Jeans.

Not as depressing as the title makes it sound!

If you made it this far, I need song/musician recs too. Send me some?

Until next time ✌️

[the-void-writes]

grabbing your lover by the shirt or pants, pulling them closer

Thank you so so much for this one! It's taken a long time to get this one to a place where I like it, but it's at least kind of there now. I hope you enjoy this random return of the Villain Winte AU lol

TW: 18+ Only for suggestive content. (It's not overly explicit, but it's their first time.)

Dark Ichor AU - I'll Always Want You

It had been the longest day Dante could ever remember. Chasing off Gazali, dealing with idiotic businessmen, and sorting out his own employees had left him exhausted. Worst of all, he hadn’t seen Will in days. The wretched people of the city had probably scared him into hiding with their horrid words. “Monster,” they called him, like he was no different from the villains he put away for them. He was saving their ungrateful lives, not asking for anything in return, and they never even thanked him. As far as Dante was concerned, no one in the city deserved Will’s help.

Dante stumbled into his suite, only half-awake as he turned on the TV in his room and rummaged through his fridge for some leftovers; a small bit of burnt steak he had gotten on a night out with Will. It hadn’t mattered to Dante that the food was terrible, not when Will had smiled at him so lovingly, so blissfully happy in the company of his own enemy. Gazali may have been the one to suggest all of these little visits, but he hadn’t counted on his prodigy and his enemy falling in love. It was the best accident any of them could have made.

As Dante returned to his bedroom, lightly picking at the burnt food, he turned his attention to the TV. The reporters were gushing over Gazali’s team, and their rescue of the boat out on harbor. Dante shook his head and laughed. Gazali couldn’t be trusted with a bike, let alone a boat. The public was just finding every excuse to not thank Will, the only hero strong enough to lift a boat out of the water in the first place. He must have decided to tag along for one of Gazali’s publicity meetings, and it was a good thing he had, from the looks of the boat that now rested on the shore.

To Dante’s surprise, the cameraman actually focused on Will, who was standing behind the whole team. Gazali brought Will forward so he could speak, and Dante couldn’t help but admire every part of his expression— His eyes shimmering with wonder, his lips twitching nervously, the way he wrinkled his nose at something the reporter said. It pained Dante terribly, knowing how long it had been since he had kissed that adorable man.

“How have things been for you since that fiasco at the charity ball?” the reporter asked.

“Oh, much better,” Will said. “Always busy, I’m sure you’ve seen. I’m just grateful to be a part of it, you know?”

So humble, so calm, even when he had every right to snap at them for daring to imply that the destruction at the ball was his fault. Dante whispered to the screen, as though Will was standing right in front of him.

“How could anyone call you a monster? What danger could they possibly see in you?”

Will suddenly laughed at something the reporter said, and that sweet, wonderful noise made Dante go weak in the knees. All he wanted was to have that beautiful hero in his arms, whispering his name, touching his chest, maybe even using his powers on him… The more he stared at Will’s image, the more he ached for him.

Dante had already excited himself with his thoughts and memories of his partner. Will’s smile, his laugh, his walk, his little dances in the kitchen, every last bit built up inside Dante like a fire as he absent-mindedly stroked his neck. Will would probably combust from embarrassment if he could see the images that flashed in Dante’s mind, which pleased him a little too much. He would have loved to see the look on Will’s face, to prove to him that he could indeed drive someone so unbelievably mad with desire.

“Will, baby—”

“Dante?”

His eyes flew open as he turned and found Will on the balcony, staring at him with an obvious tint in his cheeks.

“Did you say my name?”

“Baby— Hey, I—” Dante cleared his throat. “I thought you were at the harbor.”

“They stopped rolling the cameras an hour ago. I tried to duck out early.” Will glanced down. “Did I… interrupt you?”

Neither one of them could look away. Eventually, Dante couldn’t help but laugh, falling back over with the force of it.

“What timing, huh?”

Will struggled to hide his own laugh. “I’m sorry.”

Dante smiled at him. “No, don’t be. I wasn’t doing anything… yet.”

“Wow, okay.” Will chuckled. “You really missed me that much?”

“Of course, I did! I’ve been bored and stressed out of my mind without you here.”

Will approached him and took his hand, doing his best to avoid looking at his pants. “I’m really sorry, Gazali had us doing a lot of prep stuff.”

Dante sat up again. “Here, let me fix all this, and you can tell me all about it.”

He stopped as Will rested his hand on his chest. It felt even better than Dante had envisioned, especially when he traced along his shoulder.

“I really make you feel this way?”

Dante brought Will’s hand to his lips and kissed his palm. “More than you’ll ever know, baby. I adore you”

Will’s deep eyes were glossy with tears. Before either of them knew it, he sat down across Dante’s lap, stroked his cheek, and kissed him gently. His hands ran up and down his chest. Dante tangled his fingers in the collar of Will’s shirt, trying to pull him closer than what was physically possible. After a while, Will pulled away and spoke gently against his lips.

“Can I help you?”

“Help?”

“I mean— It sounds like we’ve both been stressed out. We could use some fun, right?”

Dante grinned. “I don’t think you know how goddamn happy you just made me.”

“I can feel it, don’t worry.”

He snickered as Dante looked down between them.

“Right, sorry.”

“I just can’t believe I make you feel that way.”

“Will…” He kissed his neck softly. “This isn’t even half of what I feel for you.”

“Then please,” Will said, “show me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Will was woken up by a gentle hand running through his hair, something he hadn’t felt in years. It was even better than he remembered, to the point where he was scared to open his eyes and find it all a dream. A smile graced his lips as he enjoyed the peace and attention. Then, a low whisper brought him back to the waking world.

“Good morning.”

Such a beautiful voice, like sweet honey in a strong glass of whiskey, that mix of fire and comfort. It sounded like home. Will opened his eyes and found Dante staring down at him, a serene smile resting on his face.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Will said, so timidly that it made Dante laugh.

“How are you feeling?”

“Feeling?”

“Any pain? Soreness, your fever— I hope I didn’t overdo anything.”

Everything about the night before clicked back into place. Will turned his head to the intricate embroidery on the sheets, anything to hide how red his cheeks were.

“Oh, not at all,” he said. “You were— wonderful.”

Dante grinned. “So were you.”

“God, I doubt it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He laid back down, propping his head up with his elbow. “I think you need a recap of last night, because you seem to have forgotten how goddamn incredible you were.”

“Dante—”

“I mean, if the window was still open, everyone on the street would have heard me yelling your name.”

“Okay, I get it!”

Dante laughed, and Will couldn’t help but laugh with him. He pulled Dante back down for a proper kiss, holding him close to his chest. Dante grinned against his lips.

“Something on your mind?”

“Just stay with me, please.” Will wrapped his arms around his neck. “This is nice.”

Dante leaned down to kiss his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay for as long as you want me, sunshine.”

He smiled as Will held his face, tracing all the edges and stress lines that Dante had once hated. That was before he had someone who would look at him the way Will did, the way an artist looked at their muse. Dante could feel every bit of love that his partner had for him. He was more than just his hero… he was an angel.

“I’ll always want you,” Will said.

Dante rested his head against his shoulder. “Then, I’ll always be with you.”

[captmickey]

I had a lot of very early-morning boybrush craving so yes I admit I did look thru ur writing tag to fulfill my hunger lol

As for prompt, how about:

Parent and Child argue before Child goes to school. Child has a bad day at school and comes home and sits with Parent wordlessly. They make up.

“But she’s a bully, dad!” Lucas shouted, standing on his chair to gain some illusion of a height as his father stood there, arms crossed. 

“That doesn’t matter, you’re not bringing a cutlass to school.” Guybrush glared, keeping to himself that that was a sentence he never imagined would be uttered in his lifetime. Then again, he never imagined he would utter that to his own son. “The answer is no.”

“Why not?!”

“Because going for some playground bully with a weapon is usually frowned upon. Why not just talk to her and tell her to knock it off?”

“You think I didn’t try that first? Trying to talk her into leaving me, Dee and Chuckie alone?”

“Maybe that’s her way of wanting to play?” He countered, trying to find some logic in this.

“Are you serious, dad?!” Lucas looked mortified. “What kind of ‘friend’ plays by saying mean things?”

“Kids, usually.”

“Dad, c’mon!”

“Look, all I’m saying–”

“You’re siding with a bully!” He cut off, eyes looking to be brimming with tears. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Now hold on a moment. I am on your side, I’m just trying to have you understand–”

“You’re not acting like it, you’re not even listening–”

“Lucas.” Guybrush snapped, the usual calm and easy demeanor vanishing which got the young boy quiet quickly. “That’s enough.”

Lucas stared for a long time, blinking quickly before grabbing his bag and leaving. Not even bothering to say bye as he headed off to school. 

Guybrush stood in the kitchen, closing his eyes and taking a very deep and heavy breath, trying to push down the very irritated feeling that was brewing in his chest. He hated having to be stern, having to even raise his voice just slightly, but he failed to see what else he could have done. Then again… he never really experienced playground bullies, at least, he doesn’t remember anything. Slowly, he opened his eyes again and went to see if Elaine came back, maybe she could help him understand from her own personal experiences.

—

The morning fight with his father already set up his day to be a bad one. By the time he reached school, Lucas tried his hardest to push that irritated feeling that was bubbling in his chest away. He hated feeling like that… but what his father said sat him wrong, and try as he might, it was just not subsiding.

Dee and Chuckie tried cheering him up, letting him know that it’s all alright and that after school they could continue their games, and he appreciated it, feeling a little bit better to have something to look forward to to distract him.

But that feeling all too quickly vanished when the playground bully reared her annoying head into their game during recess, starting her bullying streak on Chuckie.

For all of his tough and somewhat scary appearance, Chuckie was never the type to be confrontational. For the whole time that Lucas had known him, Chuckie was usually quiet around people he was not comfortable to be around, letting Lucas usually do most of the talking during those times. Which meant, of course, that he was an open target for the bully with only Lucas and Dee having to vocally stand up on his behalf.

And today was no different.

Lucas, again, tried telling the bully to go away, to leave them alone. That if she so badly wanted to play with them, she just had to ask. Not be a total jerk like she is right now.

“Me? Play with you?” The bully laughed. “No way. Not even for all the treasures around the world would I play with losers like you.”

“Then leave!” Lucas yelled. “Go bother somebody else! Why are you even bothering with us if you don’t want to even play?!”

“Because you pirates don’t belong here. Duh.” She twirled her hair just slightly. 

“He does belong here, you moron.” Dee shouted, quick to defend Lucas.

“No? He doesn’t?” The bully and her friends giggled. “I’m just making sure your pirate pet here understands that, what with pirates being stupid and are known to have no brains. Like his dad!”

“Why are you being such a jerk?!” Lucas felt his eyes sting.

The bully’s friends snickered, clearly finding his outburst more amusing than a threat. And that had Lucas’s blood start to boil. His hands balled into a fist… feeling an overwhelming want to just see that smile get wiped off of her face. Would do anything to have her go away and leave him and his friends alone.

“Go. Away. Now.” He threatened.

“Or what?” The bully sneered. “You’ll tell on me? Like a baby? Lucas Geekwood, Mighty Baby.”

His hands shook and he was slowly starting to see red.

“Oh, be careful!” One of the bully’s friends giggled. “Baby Geekwood looks like he’s ready to fight.”

“Lucas… it’s fine.” Chuckie whispered, trying to calm him. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

But it is a big deal, he thought. She’s ruining whatever small peace they had by being a raging jerk. 

The bully just smiled, her arms crossed. “Go ahead, I dare you. Hit me. Be that violent brainless dummy you pirates always are.”

“Don’t.” Dee then whispered. “She’s baiting you, I read it in a book about fights and that’s how you lose.”

“Don’t help him fight, Dee.” Chuckie hissed. “She’s not worth it.”

“I’m not, I’m helping him avoid fighting.”

“...oh.”

Before Lucas could retort, before he could figure a witty enough response to shut her down, the teacher called for all of them to return to class.

—

Guybrush sat at the kitchen table reading the cookbook Elaine heavily insisted he read carefully. To follow the instructions to the letter. With all the pots and pans slowly simmering, he had enough time to read what the next few steps were without the fear of frantically reading and trying to remember but he found it a bit difficult to focus.

He found himself constantly thinking over the argument he had with Lucas, his discussion afterwards with Elaine about how to approach the matter. 

(“I think Lucas is mad at me.” He frowned.

“Oh, he definitely is.”

“Hey…!”

Elaine sighed. “Guybrush, think about it for a moment from his perspective. You’re his father, one of the two people he would expect to be there for him. Also, he’s still a child, you can’t blame him for getting… heated during a fight.”

“He wanted to bring a cutlass to school, Elaine.”

“And he shouldn’t be doing that, however I think it's more than that.”

“I mean, obviously, it’s the bully……. Oh.”

At that, she had a playful smile. “There you go, got to conclusion on your own.”)

A sigh escaped and he ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of what to say to Lucas, wondering if he would be in a better mood… then again, he shouldn’t be expecting so much of a child. He was allowed to feel the way he did.

It was the sound of a bag landing on the ground that got Guybrush to snap out of his thoughts, looking over and seeing a sniffling Lucas, walking over and pulling a chair next to him. The urge to be a slightly smart alec was on the tip of his tongue, the words ‘I thought you were mad at me’ just teetering from falling out of his mouth. But instead, he pursed his lips, locking away the jab in favor of eyeing Lucas's demeanor. 

A demeanor he was becoming slowly all too familiar with: a bad day in school.

And if it was a bad day, and thinking about the argument, it didn’t take much for the Mighty Pirate to piece the two together. Lucas’s bully made things worse. 

Lucas’s words of being on his side echoed loudly in Guybrush’s head and the weight of the guilt started to build. Any other day, Guybrush would greet him with a ‘hey kiddo’ and start asking about his day, what shenanigans or fun facts he learned from his friends. But instead, he didn’t need to ask, he could already tell that Lucas didn’t want to talk about it. At least not now, anyways. 

His son was, hilariously enough, a lot like himself. But moments like this were more akin to Elaine. 

And just like how he normally mends the bridge with Elaine, Guybrush moved his arm around Lucas and pulled him close, gently rubbing his arm to comfort him. Lucas, in turn, quickly turned his face and buried it into Guybrush's chest, wrapping his small arms around him. 

Just sitting in the same room was enough of an olive branch, especially so with the two sitting side by side. The verbal apologies and forgiveness will come later.