#sunny surrogate

[theannoyingmosquitoinyourroom]

*i appear for a second to present this excitedly and then i disappear :3*

but i just wanted to show my love and affection for surrogate, specifically sunnyparks for a quick sec bc i love them soso muchhh i dont even knowww grrrr they make me go feral and the series is written SO WELL AND IM JUST!!!!!!

(yk the drill: click pic for better quality, also yes ik its kinda pixelated)

so i made this lil tarot card for them!!!!!!!! info about the card and also the flower crown below:

Strength:

inner strength

determination

power

underlying patience & inner calm

composure & maturity

perseverance

„Strength is about knowing you can endure life‘s obstacles“

„You are committed to what you need to do, and you go about it in a way that shows your composure & maturity“

„The Strength card encourages you to find the power within yourself to persevere“

„Approach your situation from a place of forgiveness, love and compassion“

(^source: biddytarot.com)

Flower Crown:

Chamomile: Patience in adversity

Yellow tulip: Sunshine in your smile

Morning glory: Affection

Baby‘s breath: Everlasting love

(^source: god i wish i could find the link i used again bc all sites have different meanings :(((( )

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

On the Same Page - a Malevolent fic

To keep a wound from festering, one must reveal it. Vulnerability is not in the nature of gods, but Sunny is willing to try anyway, and conclude this painful discussion so both he and Parker can, at last, begin to heal.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

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

Parker, Sunny said. What do you do, if you're waiting for a good time to discuss something painful, but one simply doesn't exist?

Parker let out a low breath. Oh, boy. 

It wasn't that he intended to just… ignore the situation at hand. Or even that it had slipped his mind. It was more… 

Things had been good. They'd gone for a solid week and a half without a single incident, with the King checking in on them every now and then, and Parker had gotten used to taking a run in the morning while everyone else ate breakfast and doing more training at night.

Parker could handle the schedule; it was nice to be in control of most of it. Parker could handle the King; that was not a good being, he knew, but he understood this kind of crime boss: there was a weird code of honor here, and as long as Parker followed the rules, he and Sunny would be safe.

This was the part he didn’t know how to handle. "Is this because we're going to dinner with them tomorrow?" he asked, low.

Sunny was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. No, he lied. I was just wondering.

"Is that true? 'Cause it sounds like something is bothering you." Parker washed his hands in the basin of water by the courtyard door, getting the dirt out from under his fingernails.

Putting that investigator's mind to work, I see.

"Come on, bud. Rip the bandage off, use your words."

Sunny was quiet again for a long moment.

I want to talk about Arthur Lester, he finally said, his voice soft and cautious.

Parker sighed. "I figured."

We don’t have to, he said quickly, pure worry. If it will ruin dinner tomorrow, we don’t have to. I can wait. It’s not that import—

“Sunny.” Parker only rarely interrupted when Sunny spoke, and only when it was important—and the entity felt a thrill of fear at that knowledge. “We ain’t doin’ that, bud. This is important, ‘cause you’re my partner, and you’re important. Alright?”

Alright. Parker could feel his jaw set itself on its own, a nervous tic that had bled over from his passenger. Alright. I… Can we go to the water garden, and sit under the tree?

Parker blinked. “Sure, alright. Any reason?”

It’s… It’s calm there. Peaceful. I think… it might make it easier for me.

“Then yeah, let's go to the garden.” Parker shook his hands dry, slipping out of the herb garden to make his way through the winding halls of the palace. 

He was really starting to get a feel for the place, seeing the patterns within its strange architecture. Already he could get to the important places without assistance: the kitchen, their room, the throne room…

The music room.

They passed it as they walked, the sound of tinkling piano notes sweet against Parker’s ears, and it set his heart aching.

He wondered, again, if that was something Sunny could feel; the sensation of lead in his chest, heavy and dragging him downward. He could almost feel the entity cringe, shrinking away as the music grew, the sound of muffled conversation emerging when the notes stopped; and then they were past it, moving on, and Sunny was starting to relax again.

The water garden was one of Sunny’s favorites. The twin suns were shining above, the trees lining the garden cast dappled shadows across the path, and sunlight gleamed off the water between lilypads and water flowers. Parker sat heavily in the bench beneath the tree; it was a kind he had most certainly never seen before, and Sunny said did not exist outside the Dreamlands, with drooping branches and small leaves that were dotted with small white flowers.

Parker sat and watched the water bubbling down from a small, artfully arranged waterfall, and took a moment to breathe. “So,” he said, breaking the silence.

So, Sunny agreed. I think… I think I’m going to start from the beginning. Is that alright?

“However helps, bud.” Parker leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

I don’t remember anything before waking up in Arthur Lester’s head, Sunny said, his voice soft. Anything I’ve remembered since has been… Inspired by seeing something. But when I awoke—when I became —there was nothing. I was just suddenly there, and I had no idea why, and I was sharing a body with—with this— person. I… I was surprised when he spoke. I half thought he was dead.

“What’d he say?” Parker’s voice was soft, and he swallowed thickly.

He asked… ‘Who is this?’ Sunny let out a very soft, mournful sound. It’s… It’s almost funny, now. Looking back. It was almost polite. I told him I was a friend, and… end that it looked like he’d been through the wringer. When I asked him what happened, he said he didn’t remember, and… he tricked me.

“Tricked you?” Parker glanced away from the pond, focusing on the way the breeze tangled a few of the branches of the strange tree above them. “How?”

I told him we’d been in an accident. I didn’t know any better, but I needed him calm. You understand that, right? His voice was pleading. I didn’t lie out of malice. And then I asked him to look in his bag, and… And then he revealed that he knew, all along. The words were tumbling out, like stones down a hillside, and he was so afraid. He told me he knew all along what I was, told me who I was, and that he’d made a deal to bring me to him, told me I wanted this, but I wasn’t John, Parker. I wasn’t. And he was covered in blood, and there was a fucking blizzard outside, and…

“Easy, bud.” Parker reached up, brushing the curve of his jaw, and Sunny let out a shaky breath. “You’re alright. I’m listening.”

He called me a parasite, Sunny said. Like… Like it was my choice to be there. He said he didn’t care if we both died, because I wasn’t John.

Parker sucked in a breath, completely involuntarily. Flexed his hands into the dirty knees of his linen pants.

I… I’m sorry, Parker. Maybe it’s best if I—

“No, bud.” Parker fought to keep the grief from his voice; fought to keep himself from talking about Arthur, from defending him. “I’m alright. It’s just… It’s rough to hear that. But I gotta. We gotta get all the evidence, even if it sucks. Okay?”

…Okay, Sunny said, sounding not sure whatsoever.

“So he called you a parasite.”

It’s… It’s strange, that it’s stuck to me through ten years. But…

“That’s a pretty charged thing to call someone.” Parker took a moment to work at the muscle of his jaw, encouraging Sunny to release the tension he could feel building. “Especially since you didn’t choose it.”

Yes. Yes, exactly. His voice was weak. It didn’t… It didn’t get better. We fought. He begged me to remember, after threatening to kill us both, so I tried to take charge and tell him to do as I said so we would survive, and—and he threatened me right back. He said he had an artifact that would send me back to the Dark World, and… I didn’t want to die, Parker. So I cooperated. I… I hoped, in time, after my anger had died down, that I might still win him over.

He went quiet, for a long moment. 

“I take it you didn’t,” Parker said.

No, Sunny replied, voice hitching. No. I didn’t.

Fuck. "What happened then?" Parker's voice was soft.

He almost got us eaten by wolves, Sunny mumbled.

"What?"

It was a blizzard in the middle of nowhere. He stole a useless rifle, went charging blind into the snow, got chased…

“What the hell?” Parker muttered.

But we got lucky. We found an inn, the Red Right Hand, by sheer fucking luck. And then, because he couldn't control himself, he got himself fucking drunk on some nasty local concoction.

"He drank." Parker's gut twisted.

Yes. A pause. Is that… bad?

"He’d mostly given it up," Parker said quietly. "I convinced him to. He drank way too much after Faroe's death—I told you."

O-oh. Sunny went quiet for a long moment. I… I pushed him to drink. Everyone was… staring at us. He kept talking to himself. To… to me. I didn’t know what else to do to fit in.

“I get it,” Parker whispered. “You didn’t have a whole lot of choice. Appreciate the honesty,” Parker said. He reached back up, pressing his hand to his own cheek. “He could have faked drinking. He could have done a lot of things. Still his choice to swallow. You didn’t know. Okay?”

Fuck, Sunny said, very quietly.

“Hey. You’re alright. I’m not mad,” Parker sighed. “We’re talking facts—history. What happened then?”

He… he rambled about strength and being alive, and quoted some poem at me, and then pretty much passed out. It was so strange. He was strange. He was skin and bones; he looked terrible, smelled terrible. At that point, I really thought he’d get us both killed out of spite, so I… I tried to maybe convince him I was John.

Parker swallowed hard. “Okay. Okay. Bettin’ that didn’t go over too well, though.”

Sunny let out a soft groan. He saw through me like it was nothing. That’s when he revealed he’d lied about the artifact and being able to send me back to the Dark World… and being able to return me to the King. He just… I didn’t know what to do, Parker. I couldn’t trust him, and I couldn’t even see him in a mood stable enough to be able to do anything with it. Anything I said, he fought. It didn’t matter.

“Fuck,” whispered Parker. “That sounds like Arthur after losing his shit, yeah, but… this is worse than I think I’ve ever seen. What the hell happened to him before you got to him?”

I genuinely don’t know. He told me things, but I couldn’t trust anything he said anymore. There was blood everywhere when I woke, Parker. Everywhere, including on him—but the wounds were closed up. His legs… And his throat.

“That’s when he got the neck wound?” said Parker.

Yes. And someone had closed it up. Humans don’t heal that fast. He said… He said ‘he’ wanted him to suffer.

“Doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Parker murmured.

It didn’t. Nothing did. We… we tried to get out of Addison. We needed a car, and Arthur went to find some surveyor who had one, but… the man was missing. Arthur did some detective work, trying to locate him, but then we were attacked by an invisible monster in the woods. The creature nearly killed us, but Jack—Larson’s son—retrieved us, and carried us up the mountain to the Larson estate. That’s when things went… south.

“ That’s when things went south?” Parker said. “How south? Bermuda?”

Worse. I thought we were all right; our clothes were cleaned, our new wounds bandaged. But we heard a woman, sobbing, in the vents of Larson’s house, and Arthur was… irrational about it. Larson finally came and spoke to us, telling us he was Andrew—a fictional descendant to handle rumors of his longevity—and he seemed friendly. Honest. Sunny paused, and when he spoke again, shame tinted his words. I… I believed him. Arthur didn’t, and… and while we were discussing it, we heard Jack kill the crying woman. We knew it was Jack because… Larson told us.

“Jesus.” Parker took a moment to rub his face, to run his fingers through his hair and pull it away from his eyes. “Jesus fuck. He just fuckin’ admitted it?”

Yes. He… he admitted he had Jack kill her. Arthur went crazy again. We made an insane escape through a window over a cliff. We found a dead body in a bed, and when Arthur touched it, I… I saw how they died.

“What?” said Parker, startled.

That hasn’t happened with you. It seems to be something unique to Arthur.

“What in fuck?” Parker murmured. “He’s got magic powers?”

I don’t know. Sunny sounded fearful.

Parker stroked his jaw. “It’s okay. You don’t have to know. So what happened then?”

I think I may have… Seen a flash of the Arthur you knew.

“You did?” Parker straightened. “What happened?”

I apologized to Arthur for lashing out at him. Though it made no sense, though we hadn’t gotten along at all, he… he seemed to accept my apology.

Parker sighed. “Yeah. He always was a sucker for a good apology. That’s… That’s good? I think that’s good.”

It… it felt like I was finally getting somewhere. Sunny mumbled. I didn’t want to fight with him, Parker. I really didn’t. 

“I know. I believe you,” Parker said, brushing the curve of his jaw once again.

I just… I want you to remember that. Because we got caught. We’d escaped, and we’d talked, and we’d investigated, and I thought things might get better, and we might get out of there, but Jack caught us. He knocked Arthur out, brought us down to the dining room, tied us to a chair, and… and when Arthur woke up, he was weeping. And he told me about… about Faust.

“Faust?”

Their throat tightened. Parker’s tongue twitched in their mouth. Before I came to him. When he was still with John. When the King had them… captured, thrown into something called the prison pits, Arthur was starving, and the King threw another prisoner in with them. The man was a murderer; a cannibal, who planned—Arthur said—to kill and eat him.  Instead… instead, Arthur killed him, murdered him by crushing his eyes with his thumbs just like he did to Jack later, and confessed to me he… he ate Faust. 

Parker sat right down on the garden path, right on the ground, like his strings had been cut.

Parker? Sunny whimpered.

“Just… I need a second. You’re good, bud. You’re okay. I just need a second.” His voice sounded like he’d been strangled.

Their tongue twitched again.

“It’s okay,” Parker whispered, though it obviously wasn’t. “Go on.”

Sunny sat in unsteady silence for a moment before he could. It was like he was confessing this to me before we died , and I just… Sunny let out a sob. I had done my best, and he’d still... what was the point? What was the fucking point? This man, this murderer, had ripped me away from my godhood and imprisoned me within him, threatened me into cooperation, lied, and then when I thought I might have an understanding with him… he told me that . And then Larson spoke to us, and Larson… Larson knew things Arthur didn’t. He knew of the gods, of their powers, called us superior , and I…

“He knew you were there,” said Parker. “Didn’t he?”

I believe so, Sunny whispered.

“That asshole played you. Didn’t he?”

Sunny let out a sob. Yes. I was swayed immediately. I was angry at Arthur. Angry at the various ways in which he harmed himself, harmed me. Larson punished him for speaking out of turn—Jack did that to his ear. Tore the piece of it off. 

“Fucking hell,” Parker muttered. “Did all his scars come from that house?

Not all, I swear, Sunny said quickly.

Parker touched his lips this time. “I ain’t blaming you.”

Sunny’s voice hitched.

“I ain’t. It’s okay. If you need to stop—”

Sunny would not stop. When it was revealed Larson had sacrificed his daughter, Addison, to one of the gods for his longevity and power, Arthur went completely insane .

Parker got up and began to pace. “He always did when kids were involved. Always,” he said, and his voice was a growl.

Parker, Sunny whispered. Parker, I’m sorry. I should have—I don’t know—

“Just gotta move, bud,” Parker said, running his hands through his hair. “Ain’t mad at you.”

Parker, Sunny whimpered. Please, Parker, I’m sorry. I really am, I—

“Buddy, I’m not angry at you.” There was heat to his words. “Have I ever lied to you?”

No, Sunny said, voice shaky.

“Then trust me,” Parker said. “You told me about the sacrifice before. Remember? And I was fuckin’ mad then. I just… there’s more context now.”

I understand. Sunny’s voice hitched. Is it my fault?

“No, bud. No. Did you kill Larson’s kid? Did you make him kill some woman beneath the house? Fuck, did you throw some cannibal into the pit with Arthur? Fuck, no.” Parker threw his head back and took a deep breath in through his nose, and then hissed it out between his teeth—in for five, out for seven. And again, in for five, out for seven. “You didn’t do any of this, and I don’t hold you accountable.”

I just wanted to go home, Sunny whispered. Larson dangled that in front of me like a lure, and I… I bit down hard. 

Parker let out one final breath. “I know, buddy. I know.”

Sunny was quiet for a long moment before he spoke with a tiny, broken voice. Do… Do you still love me?

“What?” Parker startled, stopping dead in his tracks. “What kind of crazy quest—yes, Sunny. Yes, I still love you. For fuck’s sake, bud, I’m a bit harder than that to shake off. I mean, I thought Arthur strangled me fuckin’ dead and I still love the guy.”

But you… Sunny let out a soft, desperate noise. I… Okay. Okay, yes. I just… You really aren’t mad?

“Not at you. At the King? Yeah. That was fucked up, makes me wonder what else happened that we don’t know about. At Larson? Oh fuck, yeah. I already was, but now… I’m really wondering what to do about that guy.”

…We will need to talk about the King too, Sunny said, voice weak and completely exhausted. But I… I can’t. Not right now.

“That’s alright. We’ve got time.” Parker reached up and gently cupped his jaw, feeling the twitch as Sunny settled into the touch. “You got a hell of an introduction to Arthur. Confirmed several of my suspicions. He’s still got some stuff to answer for, with you, but it sounds like he was still in there, just… this went beyond flipping a switch. It’s like somebody ripped the godsdamned outlet outta the wall and started crossing wires.”

I can agree with that. He was in one hell of a state. Sunny let out a rumbling sigh. Parker?

“Yeah?”

Do you think… Do you think John was part of it? Arthur had told me they’d fought, badly, right before.

“I’m thinking so, more and more,” Parker said quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on with that just yet. But we’ll figure it out. Okay?”

Okay. Partner.

“This can’t have been too easy to say. Thank you, partner. This was valuable. Important.” Parker gently patted his cheek. “You gonna be okay for dinner tomorrow?”

I… I think so. I’ll be quiet, but… I just don’t know how to talk to him. I don’t want to. I thought I could move on, but seeing him again, I…

“Yeah, I understand that.” More than Sunny could ever really know. “Don’t worry; I’ll take point on that one. You just sit back and listen for me, so I can double-check theories later. Sound good?”

Sounds good. He slipped into silence for a long moment. Parker?

“Yeah, bud?”

Thank you. I… I love you.

“Anytime, bud. Love you too,” he said, taking a seat back on the bench. The words, still so fresh, did not ease the tension that had twisted his muscles tight, as much as he'd like to watch the fish in the pond until the afternoon light turned rich and golden. Parker got up and walked, pacing the gardens, following every path, and if he moved like an angry wolf while he did, it was effective, because no one—Dancer or servant or anything else��came anywhere near.

[mystrixstory]

Already missing Sunny and Parker

[greygreyfruit]

AU where Zoro and Sanji decide to have a kid. They want to use a surrogate and when they’re deciding whose DNA to use Sanji pretends to put up a fight about it and then when they're in private Zoro says “I really don't care, the baby can have your DNA. You're strong as hell and I'll raise them to be an amazing swordsman regardless”

And Sanji is like “NON ON ONONONOPLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE IT HAS TO HAVE YOURS IT CANT BE A VINSMOKE GOD PLEASE NO NO NO”

And Zoro's like "jesus fuck- fine whatever."

And Sanji is so, so happy when the baby comes out with green hair and furrowed, straight eyebrows. A little mini marimo for him to love.

The crew's all like “damn Sanji you must be pissed he doesn't look like you at all” and Sanji responds “what haha yeah what an asshole Zoro is for winning the argument for that hahha” but he's so glad that his son looks nothing like him. Nothing to remind him of his birth “family”

But of course the kid grows up with so many Sanji traits. He's polite, and selfless, which really should've shocked Zoro more the first time his son gave his food to the small seagull that had landed on the Sunny. But really, he just finally saw Sanji. He also loves to cook, and he understands the intricacies of food way more than Zoro ever could. His son knows more about flavor and drink pairings at 5 years old than Zoro ever will. 

Everyone can see Sanji in the little boy, even if he's missing the curly eyebrows and blonde hair. Even though he has his dad's grey eyes. Because Sanji broke the cycle of abuse despite all his worst fears. And he's nothing like his own father. He's an amazing papa, and their son becomes an amazing person.

[fallenclan]

SUNNY AND COTTON'S SMILES WHILE SAGE IS SCOLDING THEM LMAO. Who is the honor sire btw if there is one? Lesbians win even in the face of terminal illness!!!

not entirely sure what you mean by honor sire? if you mean surrogate/donor, i am pleased to remind you that Sunnytuft is a trans molly! these kits are 100% biologically sunnycotton :D

[samuelsdean]

The Cure to Injuries

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you most definitely didn’t think that the most effective cure to a bruise is a gentle kiss placed on it.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 1.8k

author's notes: this is the first fic i have ever written since my stay on wattpad during grade school. so, forgive me for any mistakes & cheesiness that bled into it. spencer is too cute and he deserves more softness in his life. anyway, i hope you'll enjoy what you're about to read as much as i enjoyed writing it. i hope you'll like & reblog if you find this fic good. please do tell me if you want me to write more because i will!

GROWING UP, YOU’VE ALWAYS KNOWN YOU WANTED TO DO SOMETHING TO HELP PEOPLE. The first job you thought of was becoming a teacher. However, you realized that making lesson plans and dealing with naughty kids weren’t your thing. 

The next one was becoming a lawyer. But, you’ve had enough of seeing your dad being buried in paperwork and your family telling you, "You’d be a great lawyer! You literally enjoy debating with everyone."

Then, you thought of becoming a doctor. You were good at science, and you found the human body interesting. That was your dream until you had to see your friends vomit literal bile on the sidewalk and have their stomachs pumped after a night of drinking. After that, you didn’t think you could deal with vomit and other possible human excretions in the future.

Luckily, one sunny day, your brightest idea of what you wanted your future to be like finally came to you. You wanted to work for the FBI. You’ve always been a bit too interested in criminal justice, but at the same time, you wanted to fuse it with your interest in science. So, you’ve decided that becoming a profiler is your end goal.

You just didn’t think about how becoming one could involve getting bruised and battered, possibly even shot at and blown up, and you most definitely didn’t think that the most effective cure to a bruise is a gentle kiss placed on it.

"Ow! It’s good you aren’t the medical doctor kind of doctor because your patient would definitely file a complaint against you." 

You huffed and puffed, as you gingerly sat on the ambulance, accompanied by your co-worker, Dr. Spencer Reid. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at you as he continued prodding you for other injuries. 

The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, or BAU, has been your workplace for almost four years now. You never thought you’d get here after you realized that you don’t only need brains to become a profiler but also brawn. Fortunately for you, you were too smart for the FBI to pass up on, and, well, you at least passed your physical exams—albeit barely but still enough to get to where you are now. Oh, the dream!

Where you are right now, despite that, is definitely not the dream. You were presently black and blue after being the one to take down and make the arrest of the unsub who had abducted children in Kentucky as surrogates for her deceased child. Despite your injuries, the day ended on a positive note. All the children are going home to their parents alive, and that’s all you could ever ask for. Well, that, and the incessant flocking of your co-worker, who just so happened to be the person with whom you have harbored romantic feelings for quite some time now.

"What you did was stupid, Y/L/N! You could’ve gotten killed, going in there like you’re bulletproof or something," Reid exclaimed, complete with the hand gestures and the word vomit when he’s excited or worried. "Did you forget what happened five months, seven days, and three hours ago? You got shot in the arm!"

In this case, you’re positive he’s about to pass out from all the talking and lack of breathing.

"You know, Reid," You chuckled in amusement and said, "I’m more concerned about you keeping track of the exact date and time I got injured. Are you sure you’re doing that out of concern for me as your coworker, or is it because you secretly have feelings for me?"

The doctor paled, his pouty lips opening and closing like those of a fish, swimming in the depths of the ocean.

"W-what?! What do you mean I have feelings for you?"

That made your heart twitch, and not in a good way. You knew the doctor couldn't reciprocate your feelings. He just happened to have a phenomenal memory. He can’t help but store random information; he has no choice but to remember. But, you can’t help yourself. A tiny part of you still yearns for him to return your feelings. Oh well, you’d rather have him as your friend than nothing at all. But, a little teasing won’t hurt, right?

"I’m kidding, Reid," you snickered, "I know you know that piece of information because of that eidetic memory of yours or whatever."

"It’s not just because of that, you know," Reid sighed.

That gave you pause. It seemed like your world stopped turning and nothing else mattered. It couldn’t be, you thought, there’s no way he likes you back. You’re you, and he’s this otherworldly guy. You can’t even believe he’s real.

"What?" You chuckled nervously, tugging at your ear gently, "What are you saying, Spencer?"

Spencer sighed and frowned, "I know I was the reason you got shot that day, Y/N. I saw the glint in your eye when you thought the best way to save me from getting shot was to push me out of the way and shield me. And that was a stupid move, by the way."

Your jaw dropped. You were about to say something, but Spencer beat you to it.

"Let me finish first," He said, raising his index finger as if to say I still have a lot to say, "It’s stupid because you almost got yourself killed. I was about to move out of the way when you covered for me and you got hurt! You got hurt, Y/N! How was I supposed to live with myself if you ended up dying that day because of me? How, Y/N?"

"But I didn’t! I’m here, Reid." You’re scowling now and about to rant Spencer’s ear off. " What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry I wanted to save you that day? Because I’m not!"

You know that what you did that day was incredibly stupid of you. What Reid was saying was true. You could have died that day, but you were too selfish to admit that. You were so selfish that you couldn’t imagine living a life without Spencer Reid in it if you hadn't pushed him out of the way and ended up hurting yourself for it. And you have had no regrets to this day about doing it.

"That’s the thing, Y/N," Reid was almost full-on shouting now: "No matter how much you end up getting hurt to protect the people around you, you don’t care! Did you really think I’d appreciate what you did for me if you ended up seriously getting hurt, or worse, dead?"

Your vision is getting blurry from the unshed tears now. You love Reid so much, but he wouldn’t get it. He would never see you as more than just a coworker. More than a friend.

"No, Spencer," you sniffled, looking directly at him now, "I know you wouldn’t have appreciated it if that happened. Call me selfish, but I care for you too much to ever let anything hurt you and regret what I did."

You stood up from where you were sitting and were about to head to the SUV where you could be alone before driving back to the precinct, but Spencer didn’t let you. He held your wrist, pulled you back, and groaned.

"God, you’re insufferable!" He exclaimed, "Don’t you get it? I care about you, Y/N!"

"I know, Reid," you smiled wistfully, "you care about me because I’m your friend."

"No, I don’t." 

This made you stop in your tracks and stare at him intently.

"I don’t care about you as a friend, Y/N. I never did."

"Oh."

Reid sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I don’t expect you to love me back—"

"I love you." This made Reid stop fully. "I have loved you since the day you talked my ear off about Doctor Who. I have loved you since that time I woke up in the middle of the night back in Atlanta and ended up knocking on your door because I couldn't go back to sleep. You told me you'd always be here for me."

"I love you, Spencer Reid."

Before you could overthink your sudden confession, Spencer held your uninjured cheek with his slender hand—and the next thing you know, he is kissing you. 

You couldn't help but gasp. You were startled by the suddenness. His lips were warm and soft, almost pillowy against yours. Warmth blossomed in your chest as Spencer's lips brushed against yours tentatively. The smell of his hair—like the smell of early mornings after a night of rain—was dizzying. He smelled so clean and fresh, like soap, with a hint of the smell of a new book.

You felt lightheaded as he swiped his tongue against your lips, asking for entrance, which you gave him. You could taste the hint of sweet coffee he drank just minutes before the takedown. You could feel the soft tickle of his breath and his fingers as he carded it through your hair while you breathed each other in.

You never imagined kissing Spencer could feel like this.

Regretfully, your bruised cheek was starting to take the brunt of all the snogging. You had to pull away because you were running out of breath, so you tapped his cheek. Spencer wasn't taking the hint at all, which made you giggle—cute. Having no other choice, you held both of his cheeks and pulled away.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, silly," you chortled; he's so cute. "I just ran out of breath, and my bruised cheeks hurt. It isn't your fault. Don't worry." You assured him.

Spencer sighed a breath of relief, which made you want to tease him.

"I know what can stop my bruises from hurting, though."

Eager to please you, the doctor was about to start searching for possible medical remedies to your injuries, not knowing you had something else in mind.

"You could plant a kiss on them." You grinned widely as you saw Spencer's neck start reddening, "I'm kidding, Spence," you said, "You don't have to—"

You didn't expect Spencer—of all people—to be the type of person who would shower you with kisses if you asked him, but he is. He started planting light kisses on the purple blotches on your face—not caring that anyone from the local police to your workmates from the bureau could see you. 

"I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N," Reid said, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he brushed his lips against yours once again.

You never thought the best day of your life would be the day you get injured. You never thought the best cure for cuts, scrapes, and bruises could be a kiss from the one you love the most—Spencer Reid.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for ZepysGirl; the wet nurse omegaverse. TW for Bruce and Clark discussing/assuming the worst and mentioning the possibility of sexual abuse, human trafficking, and infant death, though none of those things are actually happening here. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

There’s nothing Bruce can say that Clark is willing to hear right now, though.

“It wasn’t because of you,” he says anyway, and Clark just shakes his head and looks away. Not even out the window; just away. 

It’s sunny out today. 

And when Clark won’t even let himself look outside on a sunny day, that’s never a good sign. 

“I’ll look into the agency, obviously,” Bruce says, giving them both the mercy of a topic change for the moment. “They seem . . . questionable.” 

“That beta offered to arrange a mating for Carl without even consulting him about the idea, so yes, ‘questionable’ is a word for it,” Clark says with a sigh, folding his arms. “And she was about to leave him alone with Alfred before we signed the contract. Which–it’s Alfred, of course, but she doesn’t know him from Lilith.” 

“I’ll be looking into her personnel file specifically, yes,” Bruce says with a sigh of his own. Well, at least Clark doesn’t seem concerned about Carl’s age, so that buys some time there. He’ll figure it out himself either way, and just . . . go from there. 

Go from there either way, again. 

“Carl didn’t smell like a pup,” Clark says, his mouth twisting slightly. Which . . . well, that much is unavoidably obvious, so of course he’s thinking about it. “Or a pack.” 

“He did not, no,” Bruce agrees. And Carl had said he didn’t have pups of his own, but he hadn’t said he’d never had pups of his own.

“He could’ve put them up for adoption,” Clark says halfheartedly. “Or just been a surrogate. If he has a detachment disorder, well . . .” 

It’s a way an omega could make a living, in a sense, and certainly would be easier for an omega with a detachment disorder to manage. Surrogating for infertile couples or carrying for betas or omegas who can’t or don’t want to carry their own pups. Especially because it’d make having a career as a wet nurse much easier too, having a pup or a litter every few years. Surrogacy pays very well, especially compared to most jobs a stray and likely uneducated omega can get. 

Bruce really doesn’t want to consider that possibility if Carl is actually as young as he suspects he is, but it is possible. 

But also . . . 

“You don’t really think that was a detachment disorder, do you?” he asks. He doesn’t want to rub it in, but that feral bond was strong, and Carl responded to Lor’s barely-begun bond to Jon, too. He ignored Tim and Damian, yes, but neither of them is young enough a pup to need to nurse, and neither of them have pack bonds with Lor. Damian almost has a secondary pack bond with Jon, at this point, but that’s just not the same thing as a primary one. Especially not a familial primary one. 

“I think his pup is dead,” Clark says, and looks very briefly but very intensely pained.

[wangxianficrecs]

To Bring You Back Within My Reach by ablaiseofglory

To Bring You Back Within My Reach

by ablaiseofglory

M, WIP, 20k, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Wangji, tired of the distance created by his own hand, does not know if his husband will ever be happy in Cloud Recesses, if he will ever get to see that beautiful sunny smile directed at him ever again. He knows that the way his husband avoids him now, won't speak to him now, is his own fault. He knows he was too harsh, too cruel, at the beginning of their union to ever be the reason that Wei Ying smiles again. He watches his husband smile wistfully at their youngest disciples from a distance, his uncle never letting him anywhere near them, and thinks if only Wei Ying had a child to dote on, to love, that he would be happier. Knowing he has lost his chance for that child to ever come from him, he turns to all of the children he has seen his husband give food to in the streets, all the children he has smiled at, been kind to, and played with until a disciple pulls him away, and thinks, perhaps, he knows how to make Wei Ying happy again. AKA a historical romance fic which features the Lans being terrible, Lan Xichen focused on fixing that, Lan Wanji focused on simply fixing his relationship, and Wei Wuxian focused on being a surrogate parent to as many children as he can find (eventually). Kay's comments: Important disclaimer that this story hasn't been updated in three years, so keep that in mind, if you start reading it. When I just entered the fandom, I was absolutely obsessed with this story and even now, I think of it every now and then and re-read it recently and it really holds up. Definitely angst-heavy, the kind of story that puts Wei Wuxian through an emotional blender. The misunderstandings are heavy in this one, but so well-done. Excerpt:It had been, possibly, the worst 6 months of Wei Wuxian’s life. He felt that he had truly tried his hardest not to break a rule, and it almost seemed at this point as if Lan Qiren and the elders had it out for him, and had invented new rules just to spite him. His husband was the worst of all, always reprimanding him or making him kneel for hours, for what seemed to Wei Wuxian to be small infractions. He could not understand why Lan Wangji would treat him this way. Surely, he thought, husbands are supposed to help their omegas adjust. Surely they should not treat them like this. His husband had never offered him a single kind word. Wei Wuxian almost flinched at the sight of him now. The day after his wedding, he had tried to make friends with him, joking and cajoling, and had been met with glares so harsh you would think that he had murdered a baby right in front of him. He had tried speaking to his husband cordially at dinner, far more formally than he had ever tried speaking with anyone in his life, let alone a man he was supposed to be close to, and all that had happened was Lan Wangji saying that mealtimes were to be passed in silence. When he had tried to speak more, Lan Wangji had taken the food away! Sure, it was bland fare, but he was still starving! When he had protested that, Lan Wangji had stated that further infractions would lead to another punishment in the library on proper decorum. On and on it went that way, with Wei Wuxian trying to make any overture towards kindness or friendship, and Lan Wangji punishing him severely for each attempt. After three months of acting like it did not affect him, and trying again, he had finally succumbed. One could only be forced to kneel so often before they broke, he supposed.

pov alternating, canon divergence, omegaverse, arranged marriage, alpha lan wangji, omega wei wuxian, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, slow burn, misunderstandings, miscommunication, good sibling lan xichen, yu ziyuan being an asshole, gusu lan sect punishment methods, mental health issues, mating cycles/in heat

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[fangirlingpuggle]

So a few more thoughts on my super dumb Bleach AU where Quincy war goes bad and Aizen and Ichigo go back in time. (Links to previous posts here and here)

This is just arrancar all ending up in soul society. Like Ichigo somehow finds a way to get them to evolve to arrancar form (Residuals of the Hogyokus powers? Ichigo somehow ended up becoming the soul king without anyone realizing? Aizen has no idea and a t this point has given up trying to figure anything out about Ichigo and his powers all it does is give him a headache and have hs office turn into that always sunny meme)

So Ichigo ends up smuggling Grimmjow in and tries to hide him... it's actually the disaster trio of Byakuya, Soi Fon and Gin who start the mess. (Because they've followed Ichigo on trips to Hucheo mundo and know all the arrancar it's a little hard for their sensei/surrogate big brother to hide his maybe a boyfriend from them)

Someone catches them when Ulquiorra is with them in soul society and Byakuya starts it all when he just turns to the freaking out Shinigami and says completely calmly 'This is my cousin' and of course all the Shinigami are like 'No...No we can sense hollow reiatsu' and Byakuya just stares back 'no he's my cousin, can't you see he's clearly a Kuchiki'

And no one can quite argue with that. Also they don't exactly look like a normal hollow. (When asked about the mask and Hollow hole Byakuya and co just answer 'it's a skin condition')

This leads to Soi Fon ad Gin joining in and all three of them coming up with dumber and dumber excuses for the arrancar that they smuggle in, just to see how dumb they can get.

After a while the entire soul society is full of arrancar, and a lot are in multiple divisions 11th love them! these guys are awesome at fighting, we will protect them at all costs, 6th, 3rd and 2nd for obvious reasons, 4th because Unohana thinks this is hilarious. Then 5th because Shinji thinks this is part of Aizen's plan and wants to see what he's planning. He still thinks Aizen has an evil scheme going on... when in reality Aizen is trying not have an aneurysm and screaming into the void.

So anytime central 46 tries to do execution orders or be like 'WHY ARE THERE HOLLOWS EVERYWHERE' everyone else just goes 'What hollows? Those are just Shinigami with a skin condition'.

Shinji is still doing the keeping your enemy close thing... at this point there's a betting pool of how long it takes him to figure out Aizen's no longer planning the whole evil take over plan and just how close he'll get to him...as they're basically currently dating most bets are like 10 years after they're married

The Captain commander knows whats going on but after dealing with Ichigo and his chaotic trio of students he's just given up at this point

[vilentia]

Glenn Rhee x reader who allready has a child and like He tries to like get to know them and get along with them

Survival and Serendipity

Glenn Rhee x reader

In the desolate world overrun by the undead, where trust was as scarce as hope, Glenn Rhee found himself facing a challenge he hadn't expected: getting to know you and your 6-year-old child, Mia. His heart, once solely focused on survival, now fluttered with uncertainty and a longing for something more meaningful.

It all began one day when you stumbled upon the group of survivors that Glenn called family. In the midst of your weary travels, there was a glimmer of hope that led you to their camp. As Glenn watched you approach, holding Mia's hand tightly, his heart skipped a beat. You were cautious, guarded, and rightfully so. In this world, trust was a fragile commodity, and Glenn respected that.

He approached you with a warm smile, though he knew the smile could never truly match the warmth he felt inside. "Hey there," he said softly, crouching down to meet Mia's curious gaze. "What's your name?"

Mia's eyes, big and innocent, studied Glenn for a moment before she mumbled, "Mia." She clung to your side, her tiny fingers clutching your shirt.

Glenn nodded, understanding her apprehension. "Well, Mia, I'm Glenn. And this is your mom, right?" He glanced up at you, offering a reassuring smile.

You nodded, a mixture of gratitude and skepticism in your eyes. But there was something in the way Glenn spoke, something in the kindness that radiated from him, that made you want to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still goodness in the world.

As days turned into weeks, Glenn took small steps to win both your and Mia's trust. He'd often sit with you by the campfire, sharing stories of his own childhood, his dreams, and the world before it all fell apart. Mia would listen, her eyes wide with wonder as she started to view him not just as a stranger, but as a friend.

One sunny afternoon, Glenn brought out a deck of playing cards he'd found in an abandoned gas station. He knelt before Mia, his eyes twinkling. "Hey, wanna learn a card game?" he asked, offering her a playful wink.

Mia's face lit up with excitement as she nodded vigorously. Glenn patiently taught her the game, his fingers showing her the tricks of the trade. It was in these moments that a bond began to form, a connection built on trust, patience, and the simple joy of being together.

Through countless encounters, Mia began to see Glenn as a surrogate uncle, someone she could turn to for comfort and laughter amidst the harsh reality of their world. And as for you, you couldn't help but admire the way Glenn had taken a genuine interest in your child's well-being.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you found Glenn and Mia sitting together on a log, sharing a quiet conversation and laughing. It was a sight that warmed your heart and filled you with a hope you thought had long disappeared. Glenn Rhee had become more than just a fellow survivor; he had become a part of your family.

As the days turned into months, Glenn's bond with both you and Mia deepened. His protective instincts grew stronger, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of Mia clinging to his side, her tiny hand in his as they navigated this treacherous world together.

One evening, under the starry sky, you found yourselves sitting around the campfire. The flickering flames danced in the darkness, casting a warm and intimate glow. Glenn's voice was soft as he recounted tales from his past, stories that spoke of a time when life was simpler, filled with laughter and love.

You couldn't deny the warmth that Glenn's presence brought into your life. He had a way of making you feel safe, cherished, and understood in a way that no one else had in years. It was as if the world had conspired to bring you together in this bleak reality.

One night, after Mia had drifted off to sleep in her makeshift bedroll, you and Glenn found yourselves alone by the campfire. The silence between you was comfortable, a testament to the deep connection that had grown between you.

Glenn turned to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and longing. "You know," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I never thought I'd find anything worth holding onto in this world. But then you and Mia came into my life, and everything changed."

Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, the intensity of his words leaving you breathless. "Glenn," you whispered back, your voice trembling, "I feel the same way. You've brought hope back into our lives."

In that moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you illuminated by the campfire's gentle glow. Glenn reached for your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Slowly, he leaned in, and your lips met in a tender, heartfelt kiss—a kiss that spoke of the love and connection that had blossomed between you.

From that moment on, your relationship with Glenn deepened into a love that was both fierce and tender. You faced the dangers of the world side by side, finding strength in each other's arms. Mia, too, began to see Glenn not just as a friend but as a father figure, and her trust in him only solidified your love for him.

In this harsh and unforgiving world, you and Glenn had found something rare and precious—a love that had grown from the ashes of despair, a love that would endure the trials of the apocalypse. Together, you forged a family, bound not by blood but by the unbreakable bonds of love, trust, and survival.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 29 (Pregnant Again?!)

When Spencer and Everett's dog, JJ, fell ill, they trusted no one more than Heather to care for him. So Spencer made the long trek from Oasis Springs to Brindleton Bay while Everett stayed home to take care of their son, Greyson.

Once Heather had worked her skills and cured JJ's sickness, she invited Spencer to her place to get caught up. "I'm heading back to Selvadorada soon," said Spencer. "I can't wait to start this dig!"

"I'm a little jealous! I miss the jungle, but even a sick pet is easier to deal with than a swarm of plasma bats!"

"I'm all stocked up on repellent! Now that Greyson's a little older and eating solid foods I can think about spending time away from him. It's a little scary, but I've needed a work trip like this for so long."

"I know what you mean. Ash still needs me for everything, but the daycare is a great help."

"Malcolm hasn't stepped up at all, huh?"

Heather curled her lip in disgust. "Who? I haven't heard from any Malcolm since I was six months pregnant."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not. If this is what Malcolm wants, it's better for Ash not to know him. He's such a sweet baby, and every time he smiles at me I feel like a superhero."

Ash was cooing away in a sunny mood when they picked him up from daycare. Spencer smiled at the infant with brown hair and green eyes. "Despite everything, you and Malcolm made a very cute kid."

"Baaaa!" The women laughed as Ash attempted to make conversation.

Heather let her son watch the world from his playmat while she and Spencer chatted about Greyson's milestones. "He's really clingy, but he clings more to Everett than me. I think he sees me as the parent who makes him eat his veggies and practice the alphabet, and Everett is 'fun guitar dad' who does all the voices when he reads him bedtime stories."

"Greyson should have both. You and Everett are a great team."

"And we've worked hard to be! It's not easy, but we started counseling recently, and we came to a decision about growing our family. We want to hire a surrogate."

Heather was surprised. "You were so sure you just wanted one kid."

"Even if I could be, I don't want to be pregnant again. And I'm not a baby person, but I'd run through a brick wall for Greyson. I enjoy being a mother, even if I'm the sort of mom most Mommy and Me groups would shun, but we both want Greyson to have a sibling."

"Why surrogacy? If you can't have children, would the baby even be yours?"

"The baby will biologically be Everett's and I'll choose the mother. That's our deal."

"How do you decide something like that?"

"I did have one idea. Everett supported it, but...I thought of you."

"Me?!"

"You loved being pregnant. I know you and Everett had feelings. In counseling he told me you kissed again when you found out you were pregnant. We discussed it for a while. I wouldn't find it strange to raise a kid who was biologically yours, if you'd even agree to such a thing."

"I'd do anything to support you two. I'd be honoured to help you grow your family, but are you sure it wouldn't be easier to raise a child with a stranger's DNA? What if the kid turns out to be a romantic mess like me?"

"And what if they turn out to be a badass business owner who saves lives and can switch out suppliers without getting sued by the Landgraabs?"

With Spencer's affirmation, Heather agreed to be their surrogate. "But I really advise against letting any of your kids get tangled up with the Landgraabs."

When Ash was just a year old, the Pancakes returned to Brindleton Bay for Heather's successful insemination. Heather really did enjoy being pregnant, but the Pancakes visited throughout her pregnancy, helping with Ash and taking her to her appointments.

But even as she bonded with the growing baby inside her, she knew in her heart his mother was Spencer. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I know, I know, this is such a stretch and if I were Spencer I'd pick literally ANYBODY ELSE, but originally I had planned for Everett to offer to be her sperm donor when she had a science baby (per the Gen 2 rules), until they acted up when Heather found out she was pregnant with Ash.

They've all been friends since they were five years old (Everett and Heather since they were about 2), so they definitely have a lifelong bond, but I was mad enough at Heather and Everett for almost woohooing autonomously that I made them decide to be just friends and changed course. But I am a sick simmer who loves to play with genetics and I really wanted to see what would happen with Everett and Heather. Will Bob's genes win, or Neal's? (Bob genes are super strong but playing this legacy for 2 generations has shown me Neal's genes are pretty strong, too!)

I wanted to include a science baby storyline in this generation but with a twist on the suggested plot for the official rules because Heather being a messy romantic versus anti-romantic and single for life felt more her after all the pining for Everett since high school. I considered having Spencer and Everett adopt, which feels like the actual right choice, but but but playing with genetics!!

I also really wanted to try out the surrogacy feature on Lumpinou's RPO mod even though I'm playing as the surrogate, not the mother, which isn't recommended. BUT it went fine except I have six-day pregnancies on long lifespan set through MCCC - a year is about 8 sim days - and the mod is only 3. On top of that, as soon as I clicked it, Heather was pregnant, first trimester. It was instant, so it all went as quickly as this whiplash post suggests!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Treasure - a Malevolent fic

John just keeps remembering the bad things first.

This one lands hard.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

---------

“Come on, English! You can keep up!” Parker needled, running without any effort at all, and it just wasn’t fair.

Arthur shot a look in his direction that communicated the profanity he couldn’t get the breath to speak.

“Faster!” Dis called.

“Faster or longer?” Parker called back. “He can’t do both!”

Dis considered. “Longer this time. Good call, Yang.”

“Thank me later,” Parker muttered to Arthur, deadpan.

“I… hate… you,” Arthur gasped.

“No, you don’t,” Parker grinned.

John and Sunny ignored them both. 

Everyone’s exercise routine had changed; Faroe was still doing princess stuff, but Arthur and Parker now spent at least an hour walking and jogging and running, side by side (or at least, Arthur wasn’t too far behind), and Sunny and John were taking full advantage.

John loved it. More than he knew how to express. Because of Sunny, he finally didn’t feel so… alone.

[How has the poetry quest gone? Found anything you like yet?] Sunny said, tone somewhere between genuinely curious and gently teasing.

[Challenging because he’s so damn stubborn.] But John sounded pleased. [I’ve decided I’m going to bring Hastur into it. He owes me.]

Arthur tripped. Parker pulled him up. “Thanks,” Arthur muttered.

“Always, pal,” said Parker, and smacked him on the back too hard because it was funny.

“Fuck you.” Arthur grinned.

“Right back atcha.” Parker grinned, too.

[Impressive,] said Sunny. [I'm sure he will have a wealth of poetry to loan you; the Librarian should also be able to make some good recommendations, if Arthur doesn't get too suspicious.] Sunny chuckled, low. [How did you manage to get a favor from the King?]

[Because he failed to protect us, and I am going to use it.] There wasn’t even really any emotion in that statement. John saw an opening, a weakness, a sore spot, and planned to take it. That was all. [He’ll provide what I ask.]

[Would he not provide what you ask anyway?] Sunny replied, quietly puzzled.

John paused as though that hadn’t occurred to him. [I… well, I don’t know. I just don’t want to give him any ideas, and asking for erotic or romantic poetry for Arthur could do that.] It made sense. Who wouldn’t want Arthur?

Sunny, for one. [Does the King desire Arthur?] There was growing horror in Sunny's voice. [I don't know that I will be able to deal with THREE of you lusting after that noodle-man. Ugh.]

John huffed. [It’s not like you have to worry about it. Parker wants you. That’s clear. But Hastur’s marked my person—I mean, he has good taste, obviously—but I don’t trust him. He actually has a body to work with.] John growled a little.

Arthur was used to weird noises from his passenger during these times, and ignored it. “Gotta… gotta slow a bit.”

“Sure.” Parker relented, though his “slow” was still aggravatingly hoppy, as if he had to keep his heart rate up and just walking wouldn’t do it. “You sound like a damned broken bellows.”

Arthur raised his middle finger. Parker laughed.

[Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing, that he’s marked,] Sunny said. [Hastur does appear to care for him. Perhaps not in the past, judging by what we heard, but certainly now.] Sunny let out a thoughtful sound. [I mean, assuming that Arthur isn’t too hung up on the idea of bodies in general, I think you’re safe; you do have a hand, after all.]

[And a foot. Up to the knee, actually.] John wasn’t boasting. He recited this with the unselfconscious pride of a child. [Not that it’s been worth much. When I try to take over that thing, we just fall down.] A beat. [Sometimes pretty hard.] Another beat. [We’ve fallen in a lot of holes.]

[What is it with that man and holes?] Sunny laughed. [I didn’t have anything but his eyes. That’s probably for the best.]

[Ha! My person doesn’t know how to take care of himself. He needs me.] John would preen, if he could. [It’s a miracle he’s alive at all. Anyway, I’ve decided the poetry will happen, and maybe… a song. We’ll see. I’m torn because…] He stopped.

[You can tell me.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you didn’t laugh at me before.]

“Sounding better,” Parker said.

“Just another minute,” Arthur whined.

Parker turned and glanced back. “Dis is tapping her foot.”

“She is?” Arthur sighed. “Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck!” He picked up the pace.

John let the silence stretch for a moment, hesitating. [It’s… it might be… bad?]

Sunny’s voice gentled. [You can tell me, John. I think… I think of everybody in all of Carcosa, you and I… we share… more than anybody else, in a way. Tell me anything.]

[I still don’t feel like ‘John,’] John said quickly as though afraid the words would be condemned. [And I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anybody. You don’t count, obviously.]

Sunny took a moment to answer. When he spoke, his voice was solemn. [I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I thought you had taken the name back up.]

John sighed heavily. [I use it for him. It makes him feel… I don’t know, but it means a lot to him, I guess because I chose it myself, before the poison. I say guess because he sucks at explaining really emotional things.]

[He does.] Sunny paused, weighty, the kind of pause that John had learned meant he was ruminating. [...He… he wanted me to be John when we first met, you know. Mentioned someone called Lilly and everything. When that didn’t… jog my memory, or whatever it was he was hoping for, he…] Another sigh. [...I don’t want to say he ‘gave me’ my old name. It wasn’t a good thing when he called me Yellow. It’s like he was… denying me… any of the personhood you’d earned. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry you’re stuck with a name that doesn’t feel right. I understand that feeling. I… didn’t like my old name at all.]

John fell silent while Arthur puffed, silent while Arthur took a moment to bend over and gasp like a dying fish (“Wait! Just a fucking… come on, ”) as Parker lightly jogged around him.

“You gotta get in better shape,” said Parker.

Arthur held up his middle finger again. “Best I can.”

Parker had a look on his face John had seen; a look that said he was thinking something that made him mad, but whatever it was, Parker didn’t say it. “Gonna give you to the count of ten, then I’m carrying you like some dame in a dime novel.”

“Oh, you fucking…”

“Nine… eight… seven…”

Arthur got moving at the count of two. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t.” Parker sounded pleased. 

[The problem is I chose this name,] said John. [But I don’t remember doing it, nor do I remember this Lilly who inspired it. I don’t know what to do because I want to give him things I’ve created, but I can’t… put that name on them. Right now. It doesn’t feel right.]

[Names can change.] Sunny let out a low, mournful sound. [I was… I was Yellow for a long time, John. Almost nine years. I hated that name, but… ‘Yellow’ isn’t gone just because I’m Sunny, now. I just… I’m not him anymore, if that makes sense. If you wanted to use a different name, until you feel like John fits—or never, if the case may be—I think that’s understandable.]

[You don’t feel like Yellow to me.] John said earnestly.

[...Really?] Sunny said, low and stunned.

[You never have, as long as I’ve known you,] John said, oblivious to the profundity of his words.

“Fuck this,” said Arthur, interrupting the moment.

“Come on,” said Parker more gently, pulling him up. “Is it really that bad?”

“Stitch in my side won’t go away.”

“All right. We’ll walk the rest of the day. Fuck Dis,” said Parker, who could tell the difference between whining Arthur and exhausted Arthur. “Honestly? It’s fuckin’ amazing you can do this blind.”

“I’m not blind, though,” said Arthur. “Not really. I have John.”

[See? See? What in fuck do I do with that? I can’t take that name from him!]

[He doesn’t know any better.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you’re right: the name ‘John’ is important to him. It represents a lot. But it’s just a name. You’re still important, even if you don’t feel like being called that; and he loves you. That’s not going to change because you’ve decided to call yourself James or Fitzwilliam or something.]

John went quiet for a moment. [How are you so wise?] He asked, almost suspicious.

[Probably the eight years being called a name I hated by a person who also hated me,] Sunny said dryly. [Personally, I don’t recommend it. I feel like I’ve learned more in the… oh, year and a half or so I’ve been with Parker than I did in all of that time.]

John let out a deep, pleased rumble. [Are you sure you don’t want your praises sung properly before the court? I still think you should be.]

[If word gets out that Hastur has a Forgotten One, he’ll look weak,] Sunny said, which was not an answer at all. [It’s safer for all of us—me, you, Parker, Arthur, Hastur, Faroe—if I stay hidden. Besides, it would be silly to do so if I’m going to rejoin with Hastur in five years or so.]

John sighed. That was a whole topic he didn’t like, so he moved along. [What do you think I should call myself?] he said.

Sunny considered. [Do you feel like human names? Or is that too close to John?]

[I don’t think I want a human name, no. Even if it’s just for me, and I don’t tell Arthur. I’m not human.] He hesitated. [I still think of myself as the King in Yellow. But that obviously won’t work.]

[You… you could, if you wanted to.] Sunny sounded very much like he hoped John wouldn’t want to. [You know, I could use your personal name, if you wanted. If that would help you feel more yourself.]

Arthur’s left hand formed a fist and raised into the air as if celebrating. [That’s brilliant!]

Parker eyed it.

Arthur tilted his head. “Everything good?”

Yes! said John.

Arthur shook his head. “They’re like a couple of kids in their room, scheming, while we do the real work.”

Parker snorted.

[I… I’m not brilliant,] Sunny said, baffled. [I—alright, I will. You just have to decide on one, then. And when you’re ready, you can tell Arthur and Parker, and we’ll handle it.] He rumbled. [Maybe… something in R’lyehian? Most names for our kind come from our language, you know.]

Dis had caught up. “Down to walking?”

“Yeah, he’s tapped,” said Parker.

“Good. Time to shoot,” said Dis.

“Wh-what?” said Arthur, gasping. “Now?”

“Take aim and shoot.” She shoved a bow and arrow against his chest. “Like this. Before you catch your breath. People in a fight won’t wait politely while you wheeze.”

“Ooh,” said Parker. “I like that.”

Arthur sighed. “Guess I’m outnumbered. Ready, John?”

Yes. [And yes. I agree.]

The conversation paused briefly while John directed, helping Arthur to take aim with his new bow (and how the hell Faroe made it look so easy was a mystery in itself). They’d done it with a javelin; it was a different thing with a different weapon, all while Arthur hadn’t caught his breath yet.

The breathing kept moving Arthur, throwing off their aim.

You have to breathe out and hold it. Just for a moment, while you release, or it goes off.

“Right,” said Arthur.

Yes. Yes! Straight line from the opposite shoulder. Good.

“Wow!” Parker said. “Hit the target!”

“I have a great partner,” said Arthur, warmly, and touched his left hand. “You’re a treasure, John.”

Dis took the bow. “Walk.”

Arthur did, shaking his fingers. “I’m going to need callouses.”

“I’ll join you next time,” said Parker, walking with him. “Damn, that was cool to watch.”

[Yes,] John said suddenly. [In my own tongue. Yes.]

[Well,] Sunny said, deeply pleased with himself. [I think Arthur just gave me an idea.]

[I’m all ears. Haha! I don’t have any ears,] said John.

Sunny politely chuckled. [It’s simple, snappy. Can shorten it for a nickname if you want. It’s golden, so it works even better. And, technically, Arthur gave it to you, so it has meaning.] Sunny’s voice was bright, cheerful. [What do you think of Gokar’luh?]

John went completely quiet.

Arthur’s left leg jerked, and he fell with a gasp.

Parker caught him. “Hey, careful! You okay?”

Arthur’s left arm hung limp. “John?”

I…

“John?” said Arthur again, standing.

It’s a beautiful name, John said softly..

John? 

You don’t… remember. Do you.

Remember what? Sunny’s voice was puzzled. Are you alright?

A beautiful name, John said again. We… we picked that name before, Sunny. When we were one.

“Huh?” said Parker.

“John?” Arthur gripped his left hand. “What name? What’s going on?”

And John growled.

This wasn’t the playful, childish growl of before. This was deep, and angry. The kind of growl that came with destruction. We need to go in. All of us. Sunny, we need to find Hastur. This doesn’t get borne alone.

Did I do something wrong? Sunny’s voice went worried. John? I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I won’t do it again.

No. You did not. John’s voice dropped. He did. 

“Who did what?” said Parker. “Arthur? You know what’s going on?” 

“No. I…” Arthur frowned. “I don’t understand them, and I wasn’t paying attention.”

Parker reached up and stroked his jaw. “It’s gonna be okay, bud. It’s gonna be okay.”

HASTUR! John roared, and there was magic in it, and he hadn’t warned Arthur, and maybe didn’t care.

Arthur passed out.

Parker caught him. “What the fuck?”

And maybe, in fact, it was on purpose. That’ll get his fucking attention! John snarled.

What the fuck, John? Sunny’s insubstantial breath came in panicky gasps. Why?

“What the hell is going on here?” said Dis, jogging up.

“I don’t know! John’s lost his fucking mind!” Parker said.

It was necessary, John snapped.

Parker’s jaw was set. “You’re fucking lucky I don’t have a way to deck you.”

No! Sunny yelped. No, no, don’t—don’t fight! Please, let me wake Arthur up and we can just—we can figure it out, please—

Hastur appeared, replacing air so quickly that breeze blasted them all back a step. The world went still. Sound faded out; color did, too, as though he’d put reality on pause.

He seemed huge, and he brought some kind of boundary with him—clear and pearlescent, like a soap bubble, keeping Arthur and Parker and Sunny and John in one place.

Dis was on the outside of whatever this bubble was. She mouthed, good luck, gave Parker a thumbs-up, and walked away at speed.

“Oh, shit,” Parker said quietly, staring up at him.

“Is there a reason,” Hastur said slowly, and they could both feel the rumble of his voice through the ground, “that you have chosen to hurt your host?”

Yes, said John. And first of all, he’s not fucking hurt. He’s out, because I don’t want him getting in the middle of this.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Parker was muttering.

Sunny let out a small whimper.

“In the middle of?” prompted Hastur, louder.

Gokar’luh, said John.

And Hastur… shrank?

Not exactly. But the anger evaporated like mist in the morning, the rumbling around them ceased, the looming threat just… vanished. The bubble disappeared. Birds chirped. The day was lovely.

“Ah,” said the King in Yellow.

Ah? Ah? John repeated.

Parker frowned. “Gokar’luh. I know that word. Treasure?” he said. “Uh. Buried, or…”

“You remember,” said Hastur to John. It wasn’t a question.

I remember enough. Sunny doesn’t yet. But I’m sure he will.

Arthur stirred.

Hastur rested one hand on his head and put him right back under. 

Ha! said John, as if he’d been proven right.

“What in fuck is going on?” said Parker.

“I suppose it cannot be avoided,” Hastur said softly, and without any further warning, picked them both up. 

Parker yipped. “Warn a guy!”

What—what don’t I remember? Sunny whispered.

“Uh. Hey. Big guy. We, uh. Are we in trouble?” said Parker.

“No,” said Hastur, and flew.

Arthur slept. Honestly, he probably needed it.

#

They went to Hastur’s bedroom, which was huge. Absurdly huge, though Parker knew that was for practical purposes; couldn’t get up to much with another god if it wasn’t huge in there, just practically speaking. 

Sunny was quiet, but there, present, awake. Parker kept contact, fingertips on his jaw. Parker’s tongue lashed in his mouth; Sunny twisted incorporeally in his head.

Arthur snored very lightly. It was cute. Hastur laid him gently on the bed.

Answer for what you did, you coward, said John.

Instead of answering, Hastur took Arthur up again—still holding Parker—and went to a seemingly random corner in his room.

It turned out he had a little secret stash there, hidden in the wall. From it, he took something; something of spikes, something black that gleamed as if twisting light inside itself, something Parker had trouble focusing clearly on.

“What is that?” Parker said, voice low and wary.

In his head, Sunny gasped. Is… Is that a crown? Of godblood? His voice was low with shock, the disbelief clear. Hastur… what is this?

Hastur put the crown in Parker’s hands.

Parker froze. “The fuck?” he whispered. “Why does this feel familiar?”

“Go on,” said Hastur.

Parker turned it in his hands, studying, analyzing how it buzzed against his palm. “It feels like the first time Sunny cast magic through me.”

What? Said Sunny, soft and high.

 “Fucking hell, Hastur, what is this?”

“That is the crown of my son.”

Parker’s eyes went huge.

Sunny was quiet.

You fucking… John started.

“Sunny… you had… you had a kid?” Parker said almost reverently.

S… son? Sunny’s voice was soft, raw and vulnerable and shocked. We… We have a son?

Had, snarled John. 

And Hastur just… went there. “He was going to kill Faroe and Arthur.”

“Oh, shit,” Parker whispered. “Why was he going to do that?”

“To hurt me.”

Wh… What? Sunny sounded so small, so lost. Why would—I don’t understand.

“Was he jealous?” said Parker quietly.

“Yes,” said Hastur. “But I had driven him away long before then.” He took the crown back, handling it like the most precious thing he had; his many eyes lingered, one finger gently tracing the glassy planes of its points.

John was breathing hard. You killed him!

“I had to.”

You killed… you killed him!

“You don’t remember anything but that moment, do you?” said Hastur.

I… I had a son, Sunny whispered slowly. I had… But I don’t… His breath quickened.

“I got you,” Parker murmured. “Breathe.”

I had a son! Sunny hitched.

Parker was staring at the little hole in the wall. “What’s that in there? There’s more stuff.”

“Things.” Hastur sealed it up.

Murderer! John cried.

This had swung right out of control. Parker exhaled slowly and touched his lips. 

Hastur sighed deeply. “I hadn’t planned on this today. We will go over all the facts later, including the public face we must wear about this.”

I won’t be an issue, Sunny said, his voice… broken. I don’t remember. I’m… sorry.

But you… John seemed confused that no one was rising with him in rage and shouting. But you killed him!

“I was not given a choice,” said Hastur.

“At least you got to be a father,” said Parker quietly. “Some of us’ll never get that chance. I’m sorry it went that way.”

But you… John stopped. 

I’m sorry, Sunny said again. 

“Don’t be.” Hastur’s voice was rough. “Arthur was there. He’ll have his own version of this to tell. Perhaps… you should all stay away from court today.”

But you… John trailed off again. In court? What, you want me to pretend this is a good thing? That you killed our son?

And Hastur bailed.

He put both humans on the bed, gently enough, and then just left . Floated out. Left them in his bedroom.

Coward! John cried after him, voice cracking, and then fell silent.

Arthur snored, the tiniest little buzzing.

Fuck me, Parker thought, and swallowed. Did this make him the responsible adult in the room? Close enough. He tried misdirection. He wriggled a little. “Now, this is a bed for a king, huh? Hey, Lester. Come on, buddy. Wake up.” He patted Arthur’s cheeks lightly.

Parker’s eyes stung, but the tears were not his own. I don’t remember. I don’t remember him, Sunny mumbled as they spilled down Parker’s cheeks. He’s… I don’t…

“Hey,” Parker said. “Sunny, it’s… you’re okay. I’m here, bud.”

I don’t remember my own son. Sunny made one small, pained keening sound.

He… he was… John stumbled. Gokar’luh was…

“Proud,” whispered Arthur. “Like Hastur without Faroe. You remembered?”

John sounded shaky. Yes, he whispered. But only the end.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Arthur sighed, then slid his hands over the blankets beneath him. “This isn’t our bed. Where are we?”

“Hastur’s bed, no big deal,” said Parker. “Talk.”

Arthur looked troubled. “That’s really ironic,” he said softly. “The night it all happened, we came back here. We slept in this room.”

Gods don’t sleep, John snapped as though catching him in a lie.

“Faroe and I slept. Nibbles was here, and…” Arthur sighed. “I’d better start at the end of the Games. I guess it’s time to talk about this.”

#

Arthur told them.

He told them about Faroe reacting to their constant bickering by running off, blaming herself.

He told them about their journey through the Dreamlands, their many adventures, always just behind her, fighting to catch up; he told them about Hastur changing—about Hastur away from the constant adoration of court. About finally finding peace, even respect, between the three of them. About the strange, simple beauty of being stuck alone on the road.

He told them Hastur’s version of events when the Oracle was cast aside.

And then he told them what the Oracle claimed.

“Oh,” said Parker, who could see it, who had always been good at seeing from all sides, and could see how everybody fucked up and there was no good or bad guy. 

It was just sad. Fucking sad. He wiped his eyes, this time for himself.

Arthur struggled to describe the sound of Faroe’s throat being torn, struggled to describe the pain of his legs being snapped, of John casting magic, of the desperation to reach Nibbles and free her so Faroe could be okay.

He healed her, said John, suddenly remembering.

“He did,” said Arthur. “Or she’d be dead.” And then he had to briefly stop, shuddering and gasping for emotional control. 

Parker wrapped an arm around him and hugged him tight, rubbing small circles into his back with his thumb.

Arthur turned against him and breathed against his shoulder, exhaling slowly and shakily. Finally, softly, he continued.

He told them how heroic John had been. He told them of drawing the sword from the stone.

We did? said John, awed.

“You’re incredible, John,” Arthur whispered, and meant it.

John made a choked sound and fell silent.

Arthur told them about climbing the rubble and leaping toward their enemy—how John directed him like a human javelin, how they managed to pierce Gokar’luh’s hide. “Then he ripped us off him, howling like a demon,” Arthur said, voice rough, “and he threw us so fucking hard. So hard it made my neck hurt. So hard… it was worse than falling. He threw us so hard .”

“He was trying to kill you,” Parker said, voice low and full of gravel. “Smash the both of you.”

Arthur nodded. “I don’t know this part, but I’m still sure of it,” he whispered. “I think they were both… done. They needed it to end, but they were both too fucking proud to just… end it. Or at least, Gokar’luh was. Hastur kept telling him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“I think I know where this is going,” whispered Parker.

Arthur swallowed. “Gokar’luh said, ‘All this time, you could have changed… but not for me.’ After that is… he… was trying to force Hastur to kill him. I’m really certain.”

“Yeah,” said Parker, and scowled. “I swear. I swear . These fucking gods pretend to be so different from us, but they’re not.”

“So yes,” Arthur said. “He tried to kill us. And when Hastur saved us, Gokar’luh swore he’d murder Faroe. That there was nowhere she would be safe, he said. He’d find her, and kill her. No matter how long it took. And that’s the thing about Hastur, Parker. He’s done horrible things, but he really loves my daughter. So that… Gokar’luh had found the magic button. He’d already nearly killed her once, and the threat of a repeat was just too far. So that’s when Hastur took the sword we’d made, and…”

Killed him. John took a shaking breath. Pierced both of his hearts in one strike. He knew exactly where they were, and he just—and he—

Arthur took John’s hand in his, holding it to his heart as he squeezed. “Hastur held him while… while he died. They said… Hastur said he was defeated. That Gokar’luh had won. And… that he loved him.  I think f,or what it was, it couldn’t have gone any other way, but it could have been… so much worse.”

Parker wiped his eyes again. “Worse.”

“Hastur was so fucked up after that,” said Arthur. “We got Faroe, and we came home, but he was so fucked up. He was like a different person.” And there was no better time to say it. “I think he’s still fucked up. He’s hiding it, but he’s not okay. He hasn’t gotten better.”

“Fuck.” Parker slumped, arms on his knees. “Fuck. When was all this?”

And perhaps unexpected, Arthur laughed; it was not a good sound. “The night Kayne dumped you and Sunny and Larson all into our laps and said we had to make a good show. Literally hours after, right on the stroke of midnight—Faroe’s birthday.”

Parker groaned and rolled onto his back. “Oh, fucking hell, no wonder you were bugfuck crazy. And that’s why Hastur had to…”

“Sway me. Yes.” Arthur swallowed.

Parker exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, and stretched his arms over his head onto the pillow bigger than his bathtub. “This is a big problem, fellas. A big problem.”

I’m sorry, John, Sunny whispered, the sound heart-wrenching. I didn’t… I didn’t know. I’m sorry you had… to remember, like that.

John was so quiet. I just remembered the moment, the… the moment it was too late . That’s all I had. It was too late. He was dying.

“I don’t know that remembering the context would have made it better,” Arthur said quietly. “You  were so angry at Hastur afterward. You were for a long time.”

I am angry now, John said. Fuck. But I don’t know what I would have done in his place.

“Wait a second,” said Parker. “That can’t be the same Oracle they were all laughing about Hastur smashing in court. Tell me it’s not the same one, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed slowly. “If Hastur looks weak, if it becomes known how he reacted to threat against Faroe, if any of this gets out… we all get a target painted right on our fucking faces. Especially Faroe. She’s the most vulnerable, and he won’t risk that. For all his awful qualities… he’ll never risk her .”

Fuck this place. Fuck it. Fuck!

Parker let out a sigh. “That’s just mobsters for you. They show weakness, someone’s gonna come gunnin’ for that as hard as they can. You got targeted ‘cause he’s been calling you his kid, John, and that’s not a weak position.”

John paused. I know that. Though it sounded like it hadn’t fully sunk in until now. And Faroe is… a child . I can see why we must… defer attention.

“Faroe stays safe.” Arthur’s tone was grim, final. “Period. I’m united with him on that.”

Yes, yes, I know, said John, because they’d been over this loads of times.

“I fucking mean it,” Arthur actually snarled. “Whatever has to happen for her to be safe, it’s happening. ”

“Ain’t no one arguing that,” Parker said gently. “It’s okay, English. For once, everyone’s in agreement.”

Arthur calmed.

Parker climbed out of the bed, stood, and held open his arms. “Come ‘ere, English. This’s for you too, John. And you, sunshine.”

Arthur needed it. Sore, slow, he climbed out of the bed, following Parker’s voice, and accepted a hug so tight it made his bones crack. He exhaled slowly, tension draining. “John, I’m so sorry you remembered this way.”

John hesitated. At least I remembered when we weren’t in public view. I don’t think I could’ve… maintained myself if this had happened in court, or something.

You’re not upset with me, are you? Sunny’s voice was so small.

John grunted. No. Why would I be upset with you? You helped me. You’re the wisest person I know. I trust you.

This… has hurt you. It was my doing, however unintentional. Sunny’s voice was subdued. I am… It is… It’s a relief to know you don’t hold it against me. I’m sorry it happened, but I’m… I’m glad you’re here.

Parker smiled, giving Arthur another tight squeeze before letting go, and he turned away. “You alright, partner?” he asked, voice quiet.

I… don’t know, Sunny replied in his own whisper. Could we stay a bit longer?

Parker smiled, touching his lips.

John? Could… could Parker and I stay a bit longer?

I’d prefer it if you did. We need the wisdom.

Arthur snorted softly, but didn’t seem really dismissive. “Yeah. Wisdom. I can’t say we don’t need it.” He got back on the bed (well, climbed onto it), and sat  with his arms around his knees.

I don’t know that I’m up for any more wisdom today, Sunny said, quietly. 

Just be you . John was so sure of this. 

Arthur closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Parker hesitated just a little, then put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

Sunny took a shuddering breath, and began to speak.

This is my son that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken, Never again to speak or waken.

This, that I gave my life to make, This you have bidden the vultures break— Dead for your selfish quarrel’s sake!

This that I built all of my years, Made with my strength and love and tears, Dead for pride of your shining spears!

Just for your playthings bought and sold You have crushed to a heap of mold Youth and life worth a whole world’s gold—

This was my son, that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken— This—that shall never speak or waken.

John let out a soft sob.

Arthur took a shuddering breath, letting John’s tears fall onto Parker’s shoulder—and, head down, he responded.

“Do not stand By my grave, and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints in snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning's hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand By my grave, and cry— I am not there, I did not die.”

Fuck you both, John choked out.

Sunny laughed, voice thick with tears; in a moment John joined him, the two bass voices rising and falling with their sobs and laughs. Arthur held Parker tight, face buried against his shoulder, and Parker held all three of them as best he could until they grew quiet and still.

-------

Notes:

Sunny's Poem: A Mother To The War-Makers Arthur's Poem: Immortality (Do Not Stand By My Grave And Weep) Kraiva would like to dedicate this fic to IchthyOccult, who has been dutifully reminding everyone of how neither John nor Sunny knew their son was dead since John lost his memories. You're a little freak, Ichthy, and I love you.

[mystrixstory]

HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT

I know this song is Christian in origin, but I feel like the lyrics can really fit Parker and Sunny (especially Sunny)

[bullet-prooflove]

For Bobby?

“'Cause you're beautiful and smart, fuckin' talented”

Bobby doesn’t mean to fall in love with you, it’s just something that happens throughout the duration of your partnership. You’re meant to be a maternity cover, someone to pick up Eame’s caseload while she’s away as a surrogate for her sister.

When you first appear, he hates your sunny disposition. Eames is sensible, practical, it’s a good balance to his eccentric qualities. You’re too bright, too vibrant, it hurts to even look at you. The worst part is you don’t even try to reign him in.

“You’re an adult. You’re smart enough to know when you’re going too far.” You tell him when he confronts you about it. “You’re just pissed off because you’re missing your partner.”

He pauses then because honestly, he never dreamed that you’d call him out like that. He hadn’t thought it was in your nature. He starts to see you in a different light then, because underneath all of the sunshine and rainbows, there’s a core of steel.

He sees it during interrogations, when you go toe to toe with suspects. You have a way of getting under people’s skin, of deducing their secrets. He has a forensic mind but you, you’re emotionally intelligent. You get people.

“How’s she working out?” Captain Deakins him one night after you’ve gone home.

“We had a rocky start.” He tells his captain, his palm rubbing across his mouth as he stares at your desk with the brightly coloured pens and post its. You’re a visual person, you work best colour coding information, it was infuriating in the beginning but now he kind of likes it. It adds a little something to his day. “But she’s growing on me.”

It’s a Tuesday when he realises that everything has changed. You look up from a report you’re reading, and you give him that smile, the one that makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He finds the edges of his mouth tilting up as his gaze lowers back to the paper in front of him.

Yea, you’re definitely growing on him.

Love Bobby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u

[terezicaptor]

Awful idea, but t4t4t Poly MC, but the stroyline is that Tubbo was originally going to be the surrogate for FitPac but they all end up falling in love.

Bonus points for childhood friends trope

WDYM AWFUL IDEA. THIS IS BEAUTIFUL. Anyway he still is the surrogate. Tubbo had ramon first and then pac had richas and tubbo had sunny :) I think the first time they see tubbo swaddling and holding ramon they fall in love with the sight and realize they want him living with them and being a parent to ramon too....

[romanpolitan]

FANKID ART DROP!!!!! (^w^) 🤍

felt like dropping some of my fankids! :D i love them all a lot hehe

info about them under the cut !!!!

Sundae Ren (she/her)

- semblance undecided, but she will have one

- bratty and blunt, super dry humor kinda unhinged like rwby chibi nora

- vegetarian

- oldest sister of JNPR berries

Poppi Arc (she/her)

- never unlocks her semblance

- twee style , weird girl

- autistic, similar to ren in attitude

- deaf, semi-nonverbal but uses a lot of sign

- the youngest kid of JNPR berries

i love jnpr berries poly, they all parent and raise the kiddo’s as siblings. there are 3 Arko’s kids apart of the family as well, but they have yet to be designed (juniper, alyx and louis)

Venus Rose (he/him)

- autistic

- only child

- semblance: eclipse. his semblance allows him to delve into shadows, he can then dissipate his body and travel between touching shadows without being seen

- clingy kid, separation anxiety, slept with his parents until he was like 10 type kid 😭

Aurelia Xiao-long (she/her)

- adopted

- semblance: spatulae. her semblance gives her fingers, pads of her palms, souls of her feet, and toes an adhesive ability allowing her to stick to any surface. this gives her sneak attacks and stealthy abilities

- wants to be a huntress like her moms :)

- snarky, smart, straight A student who gets an early ride into the huntsmen academy of her choice

- eldest sister

Sunny Xiao-long (she/her)

- youngest sister

- was carried to term by blake and is biologically related to her, jaune was the surrogate since he is close with them and sorta looks like yang

- transfem 🏳️‍⚧️ came out pretty young in the most supportive household ever

- lion faunus , ears + mane later as she gets older

- shy, inidepended kid

- undecided semblance

Atasi Wukong (she/they)

- she is their biological child, sun is transmasc and carried her

- monkey faunus with ears

- lazy eye but still capable of sight

- undecided semblance

- very laid back, silly girl, loves her aunty blake and is always playing around

penny and oscar have SO many kids 😭 they’re cutesy traditional-esc farming lesbians. i’m gonna rapid fire them as a lot of the info is on the drawing

firefly’s semblance is called hover: she came make herself float as well as small objects

octave’s semblance is called sound warp: he can create sound waves, use them to push things away, deafen them, and even manipulate peoples hearing slightly

neelie’s semblance is echo-location: similar to her twin she uses sound waves to locate and feel people around him. he can also send waves out to feel out the environments of further locations

mahogany’s semblance is called botanical arts: she is able to control and change the growth of plants and use them in different forms

olive’s semblance is anima: the ability to communicate with animals, later she develops the ability to also influence how they behave

last but not least flora, she’s like a hypothetical ‘if the world was happy’ 😭😭 ozma and salem are just a happy married couple who run Beacon and NOTHING bad ever happens EVER!!!! Also neither salem or ozma have last names, so i just gave them pine and they adopt oscar and take his :3

Flora Pine (they/them)

- albino

- not fully blind but like most albino pe,ople can barely see a foot away from their face

- intersex, identifies as nonbinary

- no semblance, has magic like their parents

- very close with their big brother oscar, shy and awkward similar to him in personality