#the most i can get away with is makin his chest fur that.... cause the most important part of that coat is the lil neck cover thing

[todayisafridaynight]

Y7 WARRIOR CATS MY EVERYTHING ..... what do you think zhao and joongu kitty would be like ..

loud HMMM noises......

[imagine-darksiders]

Just like. Head canons. For our lovely Dad Guys. Whoever you want. Whatever you want. I don’t care. Just. The Fluff Beast. 😫 Getting too strong...! Help! (I’m sorry 😂 Seriously, just do whatever you want. It’ll be beautiful and I’ll love it regardless)

Well, I’ve had this little Eidad fic on the back burner for a while now, sitting in my drafts and not doing a while lot. This seems like a good time to post it <3 <3 <3 

It’s a sick fic. Nothing too drastic, just an old maker getting worried about his human friend. 

---

Eideard has always been an especially unflappable maker, a trait that tends to come with the territory of being the village elder.

He never gets flustered, and he always maintains the poise and composure expected of him.

Unless, of course, one of his fellow makers is under threat. Only then, by his own admission, does decorum fly out of the proverbial window and little else but worry takes over him, mind, body and soul.

Recently, he's come to discover that the same rule applies to a very specific, little human.

----

“I'm cold.”

That ought to have been their first clue.

You're sitting in the maker's forge, seemingly content to remain still and quiet beside the roaring fire whilst Alya and her brother, Valus, are hard at work at their anvil.

“Cold?” the former twin laughs incredulously, glancing up from the sword she's forging to turn and fix you with a raised brow, “You're sittin' close enough to that fire!”

Her brother though, always the more perceptive of the siblings, ambles around her and makes his way towards you, tugging at the green cowl that sits around his neck. You may be vastly smaller than him, but even behind that visor, he can see the shivers you're trying to suppress. Blinking, you watch him as he bends onto one knee in front of you and holds his treasured garment out, uttering a low, almost undetectable whine.

“I'm okay, big guy,” you murmur, sounding far from it, “Think I've just got a bit of a chill.”

At that, Valus doesn't wait for you to reach up and take the cowl from his grasp and instead, with a huff, he leans forward to drape it around your shoulders, his thick fingers tucking it up underneath you as carefully as he can. Once he's finished, he sits back on his haunches to inspect you, satisfied when you snuggle further into the fabric and give him a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Pacified, the burly maker returns your smile with a nod and pushes himself onto his feet, turning back to his sister and the anvil.

With their attention elsewhere, you allow your smile to fade, burying your face into Valus's scarf. 

You're loathe to tell them the whole truth, that accompanying your chills is a raw throat that feels as though it's been rubbed tender by sandpaper, and an ache in your limbs that only grows worse and worse by the hour.

There's no denying it.

You've come down with something.

At the very least, the makers don't know a lot about human biology, so you're relatively hopeful that you'll be able to pass this off as a mundane occurrence – definitely not anything they should be worrying about.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the giants, one that came about the moment they first laid eyes on you – a small, cowering little thing whose world had been destroyed only a few days prior.

The rule, never spoken aloud, yet understood by all, is that you are a youngling – despite your insistence to the contrary – and younglings are to be protected, especially those who have yet to reach their first century of life. 

It also doesn't help that you're a human, and consequently only stand about as high as the makers' knees.

But for as endeared to you as they all are, there are none who are quite so taken as Eideard.

The village Shaman, Muria, speculates that their elder has seen more younglings and friends die off over the centuries than any of them, and thusly, that's where his protective tendencies stem from.

Thane, on the other hand, attests that Eideard has always been enormously tender-hearted, long before grief softened his edges. 

If he were to find out that you're sick, you can't imagine he'd take it well.

Bottom line? You'd hate to worry him.

Unfortunately for you, there are some things that can't be kept from a group of watchful makers.

It's impossible to hide glassy eyes, tremors that rattle your whole body and a sudden, explosive sneeze that causes both Alya and Valus to jump out their skin, tools clattering to the stony ground.

“Stone's blood! Bit of warnin' before you go makin' noises like that, please!” Alya exclaims, resting a hand over her heart whilst Valus hurries over to you again.

“It was just a sneeze,” you try to protest, but the forge brother isn't buying it. Without a word, which isn't unusual, he clenches his fists and heaves himself about on a heel, marching purposefully towards the forge's entrance, deaf to his sister calling after him.

“Oi, Valus? Where are you off to?”

It's hardly a surprise that she doesn't get a response.

He disappears through the doors and you share a look with his sister, who hesitantly asks, “You.. sure you're okay?”

The fake smile you plaster on your face is apparently as unconvincing as it feels, judging by the flat look you receive from Alya in response. 

A few moments later, the doors swing open once again and your ears pick up two pairs of resounding footsteps thumping through the forge.

Valus appears first, lumbering up the short flight of steps onto the raised dais where he's soon followed by the second maker, a particularly concerned-looking Eideard.

As soon as the elder's pale, grey eyes lock onto you, you slump forwards in defeat, any hope of riding this illness out in privacy now dashed. Of all the makers in Tri Stone, Eideard is the most well-versed in anthropology.

Shooting Valus a glare for his betrayal, you swallow your cough and groan, “Valus, I told you, I’m okay. You didn't need to bother Eideard.”

“I for one, am very glad he did.” From underneath his bushy, furrowed brows, the old maker studies you closely until you duck your head, weighed down by the heaviness of his stare, the whole while, your throat burns with the need to cough. Then, in a blink, his eyes widen again and the fingers clutched around his golden staff turn white as he breathes, “You're sick...”

At once, Alya shoots upright from where she'd been leaning casually against the anvil. “Sick!?” she blurts, her gaze snapping between you and her elder, “Why didn't you say somethin'?!”

“Because!” you argue, hating that Eideard’s face now appears almost twice its age thanks to the worry lines permeating his forehead, “It's not a big de-” As fate would have it, the raw spot at the back of your throat finally chooses its moment, and before you can stop yourself, you're lurching forwards into a vicious cough that burns at the tenderness like acid, bringing tears to your eyes and shame onto your clammy cheeks.

You become vaguely aware of a vast hand coming to rest on your back and fingers that pat you gently until you can catch your breath. Even after you've hacked yourself silly, you push Eideard's silken, blue sleeve away and try to get to your feet, hoping that if they see you standing, they'll be less inclined to fret. But the moment you begin to move, the same hand is cupping around your trembling body and you find yourself being lifted up and nestled against a broad chest by a maker who is wholly undeterred by your feeble resistance. 

“I'm not a baby, Eideard!” you complain, trying to wriggle free as the maker presses delicately on your chest, forcing you to lay across his forearm, “Put me down! I can walk just fine.”

“Easy, now. You'll only hurt yourself further if you keep that up,” he rumbles in a tone that's far too gentle for your pride to withstand.

Embarrassed, you wilt down behind his fingers when you hear Alya's stifled giggles, but the old maker doesn't pay her any mind, simply turns away from the anvil and begins to shuffle down the steps, heading for the entrance. Almost immediately, you miss the fire's warmth and Eideard feels your shivers turn violent, his heart seizing at the sound of your teeth chattering together like rapid gunfire.

“You – you're not going outside, are you?” you croak, pulling Valus's cowl up to your neck, “It's freezing!”

“The weather is perfectly mild. You, on the other hand, are burning hotter than forge-fire.”

You open your mouth to protest but find yourself cut off when he continues, “I’ll not have this sickness turning into something worse. We may belong to separate species, but I wasn't born yesterday. A little fresh air will do you some good.”

“Ugh. You sound like my mum.”

His reply comes in the form of an affectionate, rumbling chuckle that you can feel travelling up through his palm and into your bones. Letting out a final huff, you flop backwards and turn limp in his hand.

It isn’t as though you can fight your way out of the Old One's grip, after all. For such an ancient maker, Eideard is powerful, and his age does little to detract from that strength. The meagre resistance you put up is also proven ineffective by the silken softness of the fur trim on his sleeves that you run between your fingers.

Perhaps if you'd been looking at Eideard's expression instead of the doors as he pushes them open, you'd take notice of the disquiet lingering at the edge of his eyes.

He plans on taking you to see Muria in the hopes that she might have a remedy that can alleviate the fever spreading through your delicate body, and, failing that, he will sit with you in the peace of the night air and keep you still and safe until your tremors cease and his old heart stops trying to beat its way out of his ribcage.

You're more than welcome to resent him for this, he muses quietly, but after seeing so many of his people lost to corruption, it isn't such an easy feat to quell the pervasive anxiety that writhes like an impatient, snarling beast in his stomach, and he would much rather endure your resentment if it means keeping you out of harm’s way.

The village elder is supposed to protect his own, and glancing down at you and seeing that you've buried your face into the fabric of his robe to escape the cold, Eideard realises with a sudden surge of paternal drive, that you fall under the scope of those he considers 'his.'

The old maker clutches you possessively against his chest and hurries as well as his tired legs can carry him up towards the Shaman's gazebo, knowing that his soul will never know peace until you’re well once again. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hi miss Raven! may I request a scenario/headcanon with grim? like grim mess with some potions and he accidentally became a human (but still has his ears and tail). what would (fem prefered) mc ace and deuce do? I have a feeling that grim would see this as an opportunity and would cause a lot of troubles ahahaha. thank you for your hard work!💖

POV: you’re the dumbass duo and human Grim says you aren’t a big sexy

Human Grim is hot shit.

***Warning: spoilers for the prologue of the main story.***

Imagine this...

“Where the hell did this gremlin come from?!” Ace sputtered, jabbing an accusing finger at the young man standing beside Yuu.

“I-Is that really you, Grim...?” Deuce asked hesitantly, narrowing his eyes.

The two boys hadn’t entirely bought Yuu’s frantic story about her familiar not being entirely himself. Another freak Alchemy incident. She had sounded so panicked over the phone that it was hard to sort out fact from fiction--but seeing was really believing.

Indeed, the boy certainly resembled Grim quite a bit, with a uniform and a mop of grey hair the same color as his fur, cat ears ignited by cobalt flames nestled in his messy locks. His eyes were a bright blue too, like big sapphires with an impish glint. A pronged tail sailed through the air, swishing like a metronome. Tied around his neck is a striped ribbon, a lilac gemstone dangling off of it.

But easily the most Grim-like trait of all is the sharp, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Nyahahah! Whaddya think of me now, minions?!” he snickered, sticking out his tongue. “The great Grim-sama sure makes for a handsome human, right?”

“Right, my ass!” Ace groaned loudly. “Go back to being a dumb ol’ tanuki already, I can’t stand lookin’ at you as a human!”

“I’m more concerned that Grim won’t be able to properly use his new body,” Deuce sighed, shaking his head. “What happens if he gets hurt while trying to I dunno, open a can of tuna or something?”

“Yer just jealous cuz you two hacks’ll never be as charming or as talented as me!” Grim countered smugly, his chest puffed out.

“Guys, calm down already!” Yuu pleaded desperately. “Look, it’s just for a little while. I need help making sure he stays out of trouble--”

“What? You don’t think I can take care of myself?!” Grim demanded, scowling at his caretaker.

“Definitely not,” Yuu, Ace, and Deuce chanted in unison.

“Whaddahell!” Grim pouted, stomping a foot and folding his arms. “I betcha I could go the whole school day without makin’ a fuss!”

“Bet not!” Ace retorted, frowning. “You couldn’t even last the first day without setting the Great Seven statues on fire!”

“Er...Ace kind of has you there,” Deuce agreed.

“Well, you fanned the flames!” Grim shouted back, glaring at Ace. “And you dunderheads were the ones that shattered that chandelier, aren’t ya?!”

“Seriously guys--now is not the time for fighting,” Yuu interrupted, gripping Grim by the arm and yanking him back. “He’ll be back to normal as soon as Professor Crewel whips up the antidote, so just...put aside your differences for now and help me babysit him.”

Grim suddenly fell silent.

“Yer gonna turn me back?” he repeated slowly, his lips pressed into a straight line.

“Um, yeah. You’d get into too much chaos if you stayed as a human. It’s already hard enough keeping track of you as a kitty. Plus, you eat a ton more as a human,” Yuu explained with a weak smile. “I know you like being human and all, but...this is what’s best--especially for Ramshackle’s meager finances.”

“And he’s an annoying little shit like this,” Ace added under his breath. Deuce hissed for him to shut up, digging an elbow into Ace’s stomach.

“Well, I don’t wanna!” Grim cried, tearing his arm away from Yuu. “I like bein’ human! If ya really wanna turn me back...yer gonna hafta catch me first, minions!”

And with that, he took off sprinting into the courtyard, cackling some nonsense about how much of a genius he was.

“...Should we go after him?” Deuce asked, glancing at his friends for comment.

“He said he wouldn’t cause a commotion, right?” Ace shrugged. ‘Let him prove it, then. It ain’t our problem, anyway.”

“I cannot believe you,” Yuu snapped. “Deuce, we’re going after him. Who knows what kind of dumb things he’ll get up to if he’s not--”

A plume of blue flames erupted in the distance, followed by terrified screams.

“Outta my way!!” came Grim’s familiar, shrill shout. “The great Grim-sama’s comin’ through!! Clear a path!”

The trees were illuminated by glowing blue fire--his signature--as he barreled through a crowd of students, scattering them this way and that. A few boys were shoved to the ground, letting out yelps. Books and magical pens flying, slapping each other--and Grim--in the face.

“YEOWCH!!” he screeched, puffing on reflex--setting the tome ablaze. His fiery breath punctures the pages, sending a line of fire into another innocent tree.

 A thick curtain of smoke formed overhead, summoning concerned students.

“Th-The courtyard’s burning!!”

“W-Water! We need w-water magic!!”

“Grab the professors...!!”

“Who did this?!”

“I-It was that guy!! Catch him...!! Report him to the headmaster!”

A swarm of mob students clamored toward Grim. Some whipped out their magical pens, aiming them menacingly at him. His ears flattened, pupils dilating in horror.

“Get away from me...!!” he ordered, sending another column of blue fire at his assailants.

The students were sent flying back, coughing and sputtering from the heat and the smoke. While they were distracted, Grim bolted off inside of the main building of the school. More screaming and shouting rang out from within.

Yuu turned to Ace and quirked an eyebrow. “So, you still think Grim’s gonna behave, or what?”

“...Okay, I take it back,” Ace grumbled, drawing his magical pen from his breast pocket. “Let’s nab him.”

“On it!” Deuce agreed, following suit. “You better watch where you direct your wind magic this time, though.”

“Yeah? And you better watch where you send your cauldrons, Juice,”  Ace spat, thrusting his magical pen into the air. “Alright, let’s hunt down that tanuki...!!”

[newsies-geek]

You’re Always Welcome

Javid Vampire Werewolf AU Part 2

Because why not

***

TW: Blood, Pain

***

The next night was indeed a quiet evening. Davey kept casting glances at the window, left halfway open versus all the way open tonight. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't started gently whining at around an hour after Jack would usually come around...a longing seemed to have instilled itself in his chest- meaning that as soon as it was certain Jack wasn't coming, longing gave way to a particular anger that Davey couldn't explain. This was what he had wanted, right? For Jack to leave him alone?

No- not for Jack to leave him alone, but for him to...want Davey versus wanting Davey's...property- his location- his area to crash, to hide- Davey wanted to be the one to provide the safety, not his roof.

He hated these emotions and these confused feelings that left him tossing and turning until he finally fell asleep in the dead of night.

Davey was a light sleeper, in part to his attuned senses, and in part to how he'd always just been, even before he got bit last year.

Regardless of why, it was this fact that made Davey's eyes open in the early hours of the morning. Perhaps five. Perhaps six. The sun wasn't up yet but it would be soon.

The sound of thumping from the fire escape outside made Davey's eyes flicker open, followed by a groan as his sleep was disturbed, not that it had been going very well anyway, "Stupid raccoons, go to sleep." Davey growled.

More thumping came...and then silence.

"D-Dave-"

Davey sat up in an instant with the familiar voice, he hated the feeling in his chest that drew towards the window, quickly stifling it to stay quiet.

"Y-You is up, I heard it-"

"G-Go away, Jack...bother someone else."

"Dave, listen-"

"No, you listen- I told you last night, I don't want you coming here as a safe house, go find someone else-"

"Dave.." Jack's voice got quieter and Davey felt his hair stick up a bit in concern before shaking his head.

"S-Stop moping, I'm-"

The sound of something hitting a wall sounded from outside and Jack gasped, "D-Davey- please- the Delanceys are-"

"They always are, I know." Davey sniffed.

"F-For real this time though-"

Davey blinked a few times in confusion. For real? As if-" A thud sounded an arrow launched through his bedroom window and hit the wall, making Davey get into his feet.

"Dave- Davey please let me in, I- I'm s-" Jack screeched as another thud sounded with a more muted sound.

It took only a moment before the scent of fresh blood hit Davey's nose. It made his mind reel backwards, but not in the hungry way such as how a Vampire like Jack might feel- in an angry way- a recognition- the scent of blood from someone who was part of his pack.

Davey snarled and was at the window in an instant, skin tingling and teeth bared, ready for whatever threat had just hurt Jack, only to find the boy gone, followed by thuds as the taller boy looked down to see two shadowed figures dragging the bleeding body down the steps. Eyes atoned to the night, Davey could see the shine of a silver arrow stuck in Jack's back.

Davey had turned on purpose only a few times before. Once when a group of boys had been teasing Les, and another time when the Delancey's had gone after Sarah.

The brunette hoped that the brothers would recognize him as he dropped down onto the street below, his four legs taking most of the shock and absorbing it well with the thickness of muscle and fur that now made up a snarling, chocolate-brown wolf with fluffed fur from anger as the Delancey's reached the bottom steps, carrying Jack and immediately dropping him when they spotted Davey's massive form.

"It's that loony mutt again, Morris." Oscar shouted to his brother.

"It's a supernatural, and we've got a crossbow this time, stop talkin' and start makin' yourself useful." Morris raised his arm, going to reload the crossbow, struggling with it as he pulled the string of it back.

Davey was quicker than the reload as he lunged forward in his canine form, grabbing Morris by the front of his shirt and shaking him like a chew-toy before throwing him against the nearest alley wall while praying his parents hadn't been woken up by any earlier sounds or current ones.

"Christ!" Oscar hissed, teaching for a wooden stake in his pocket and throwing it at Davey. It bounced off his shoulder with ease, alerting his attention to Oscar who he picked up by the shoulder and threw out of the alley and into the street in one swift swing of his head.

"It's a werewolf, not a vampire you idiot, a stake isn't going to work!" Morris groaned from where he was left in a heap at the other end of the alley.

Davey snarled and moved to stand over Jack protectively, who looked up at him in confusion.

"D...David?" Jack whispered, but if Davey had heard, he gave no sign to it, continuing to snarl at Morris who stumbled to his feet with his hands in the air as he scrambled towards the alley exit.

"I'll give you somethin to chew on you-" Morris struggled to, but managed, to run past Davey while he attempted to shield jack as Morris shot a silver arrow right into Davey's side, making him yelp and stagger long enough for Morris to escape and book it down the street with his brother.

Davey's form, around five to six foot tall and six to seven foot long, fell onto its side in pain, landing beside Jack who lifted himself with a groan of pain, "Is that...? Is that you, Dave?" His answer came in the form of Davey's form getting a foot smaller into a curled up position of a vulnerable boy who's white shirt was getting redder by the second.

"Sh-Shit-" Jack stumbled towards Davey, wincing at the pain in his shoulder from the burning sensation of the silver arrow in his shoulder. He couldn't break it like one would with a wooden arrow, and it was only causing more pain by the second.

Davey seemed to have passed out from either the pain of an arrow in his side or from is deformation, but Jack needed to get help quick, and the hit that was the scent of Davey's blood wasn't helping him think straight, "Shit..." Jack cursed, struggling to cup his hands over his face- he needed to get the scent out of mind...but what a pleasant one it was... he- his ears twitched at the sound of a high pitched whine from Davey, forcing him to plug his nose and shut his mouth to keep his senses at bay. Davey needed help- pulling out the arrow wouldn't help, but what else could he do? Even if the arrow wasn't silver, it would still need to stay in, or Davey would start bleeding out without pressure of a seal.

It took a moment of thinking before he remembered the silver plate and the candle. If he could pull it out fast enough and...his hand would still be hot...

He had to- it wasn't like there was a hospital for Supernaturals in these areas and-

"Okay.." He reaches for the arrow in Davey's side, hesitating for only a moment before pulling it out quickly. It instantly made the boy wake up with a gasp of pain, but Jack was quicker, biting back screams of pain as he slipped a burning hand under Davey's shirt and pressed it harshly to the wound before pulling away. His skin couldn't melt off, only eternally burn, which kept his flesh from fusing to Davey's as the wolf-boy's wound fused itself shut, the boy biting down hard on his shirt to keep from screaming out in pain.

"I-It's okay! It's okay-" Jack winked at the pain in his shoulder, "J-Just gotta- one more time-" He whispered, reaching for the arrow in his shoulder and repeating the process before falling limply to his knees and clutching his sides.

The smell of his own blood mixed with Davey's, causing confusion in his brain that made his fangs grow and his desire for blood shrink. A vampire couldn't drink their own blood without the desire to immediately vomit it up- it couldn't be processed and, "I- h-hold on-" Jack gently picked up Davey and embraced him tightly, the blood on his shirt staining Davey's, along with the scent itself.

It didn't entirely set off the alarms in his head that told him he was hungry, but it was enough to give him control over his own actions, and right now, his immediate actions were to cradle Davey in his arms who was whimpering quietly from the still present pain.

"D-Davey?" Jack whispered.

"Jackie...?"

Jack held Davey tighter, pressing their foreheads together, "Oh thank ya god..."

"I-Is your hand okay?"

"It's burned, but it's intact." Jack nodded.

Davey gently took the wounded hand gingerly, turning it over as gently as possible, he frowned tiredly, "I'm sorry.."

"It ain't your fault...I...shouldn't have brought you into this..." Jack stroked Davey's cheek with the back of his thumb.

Davey closed his eyes, "How'd they know...?"

"Long story- they was uh- I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and-"

"And what did you mean...this time?"

"What?" Jack chuckled quietly as the sun began to rise, shade gathering around them from the stacked boxes in the brick alley.

"You said...you really meant it this time...that the Delanceys were after you...they're always after you..."

"A-About that..." Jack cleared his throat, "The- the first time, for real, they was- and every now and then they'll be after me- but um-"

"E-Excuses.."

"What...?"

"You were making up excuses.." Davey's eyes opened, "To...come over- why?"

Jack's pale features seemed to become darker for a moment, "Can't a buddy just...want to hang with a pal?"

"You've been coming over every day for a year...why...why didn't you just ask?"

Jack looked away, "Was worried you wouldn't uh- wouldn't want- or Uh- wouldn't let me in without an excuse...and you were so mad the otha' day about me botherin' you with my coming over-"

"Jack.." Davey reaches up to touch the dirtier face of the vampire, "I love it when you come over to hang out with me...but when it's to hang out with 'me', not to just have a failsafe area- that- you're only coming over because it's the only place you can go, not because you want to be around me..."

"O-Of course I want to be around you!" Jack defended.

"Well, I...it didn't seem like it- seemed more like you wanted a roof over your head than my company." Davey shrugged with a wince of pain.

"I just didn't...want you to...to notice- or um- or care how often I came and went- Dave, I was always vistin' to see 'you' not to hide. Your house ain't my safe space, 'you' is my...safe space.."

Davey felt his heart rate pick up and he couldn't help but smile, "I..."

"How long have you been a- uh- ya know?" Jack cleared his throat, making a growling face as an interpretation of a werewolf.

"A year, around the time you told me about-" Davey bared his teeth in a vampire interpretation.

Jack chuckled, "That's not how I look."

"No, cuter.." Davey whispered, closing his eyes.

"Wh-What?" Jack nervously chuckled as Davey shrank down a bit.

"W-Well, I'm not going to repeat myself.

"You make me blush, Jacobs. Well, I mighta just kissed ya if I wasn't afraid'a bitin' you." Jack smirked.

Davey's eyes widened and his words came out more desperate than he meant them to, "I-I'll take that risk."

Jack's eyebrows lifted, "Y-You- you'll- you would?"

"A year of me allowing you to come over without fail- until...today-" Davey cleared his throat, "And you think I...wouldn't?"

"Well, I-" Jack cleared his throat, "Can't say I wasn't hopin' for somethin' to uh...be...there- but- I figured you was bein' friendly and uh- well, I myself was bein' rather subtle-"

"You burned your hand so that you could light a candle for me. Now, I thought I was reading into things but-" Davey was cut off by Jack's lips on his. He didn't hesitate before holding Jack's face and kissing back.

They parted with gentle breaths after a few moments.

"I love you..." Davey whispered.

"R-Really?"

"After everything I did tonight? I should hope that wasn't platonic." Davey sighed before looking up at Jack with slight expectance and hope.

"I love you too..." Jack kissed Davey's forehead, "Ya' dumb dog."

"I'm not the one who confessed to being a vampire just so his crush would like him." Davey smiled.

"H-How do- do you know why- I um- why that's why I-"

"What? You think being a supernatural is-" Davey chuckles, "Hot? Or something? Like- like in the books?"

"Lookin at you right now I can't say I deny it." Jack winked, making Davey squeak slightly.

"I-I could say the same.." Davey mumbled.

"You could." Jack kissed the boy's cheek.

"I don't think you deserve it though."

"I saved your life tonight!"

"And I saved yours."

"Fair..."

Davey leaked up and left a gentle kiss to Jack's lips, "You're not that bad yourself, Kelly."

Jack grinned widely.

"You're always welcome, whenever you need- or 'want' to come over."

"I don't see myself ever leavin' then." Jack teased.

Davey rested his head on Jack's chest, "I'm not opposed to that."

Jack smiled, "We should head back up..."

"Just a few more minutes..."

"The sun will reach us eventually.." Jack whispered.

"I'll protect you then.." Davey murmured tiredly.

"Promise?" Jack smiled.

"Always.."

[lilithsgayadoptednephew]

Holy Hands

Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!   Not Rated Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Other Complete Work

Chapter List

Chapter 25

Lucifer ate when he was told, he took his medication, he slept enough to properly function. All of it fueled by memories of his own demise, the fear of wasting away and falling again.

Damn MC and their...vivid descriptions.

Lucifer was not the only one struggling with humanity however. Mammon had gotten into his fair share of confusion-based trouble. Likewise Lucifer was not the only one receiving help.

Acacia walked purposefully down the street towards the sheriff's office.

Opening the large door she strutted in like she'd done so a thousand times before. That being because she had. She spat her spearmint gum into the bin beside the door and addressed the man behind the desk.

"Hey Bill, how's the puppy? Come up with a name yet?" The man didn't even look up from his paper. He just held out his hand expectantly. "Ah, right to the point." Acacia placed a thick envelope in his hand and he pocketed it. Wordlessly he stood from his seat and made his way to holding, Acacia marching behind him.

He unlocked the metal cage with one of the many keys on his key ring.

"Come-on get out" he spoke gruffly to the man sitting in the cell.

"Oh what?" Mammon looked up surprised, "hey Acacia! You bailed me out?"

She just grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the building.

0"Thanks Kay, you're a lifesaver. I'll pay you back I swear, just give me a few weeks to–"

"Mammon this is your 4th offence in as many weeks. There wasn't a bail." She grumbled. Mammon blinked in confusion.

"So what you...bribed him?"

"Hmm" Acacia groaned anxiously. "Me and Bill kind-of have an... understanding." She responded cautiously. Mammon looked at his feet as he walked.

"Dang...thanks." it was genuine, and it made Acacia's cheeks heat up a little. "You're a good friend, you know that?"

What.

"Haha…" Acacia laughed nervously to cover the way her stomach sank. Good friend indeed. "Well, no more pick-pocketing people in the park, you're at the mercy of the law now and if you end up going to court I can't save you."

"Hah! I can worm my way out of much worse than 'human court'." He spoke with  air quotes.

"Not without an ID you can't."

"I got a guy for that," he winked.

"That…" she put her hand on her face in exasperation. "will get you in even more trouble, doofus."

Mammon just rolled his eyes.

They walked along in silence, the stores were starting to close for the evening and the sky was growing dark from the setting sun. The air began to chill and Acacia found herself rubbing her arms that were exposed by her short sleeve shirt.

Something in a shop window caught her attention. The mannequin wore the most wonderful jacket she'd ever seen. Black leather studded with silver bands and embroidery. Long as a trenchcoat and cut perfectly for a shapely hour-glass figure. The hood was lined with incredibly soft- looking faux fur. So many pockets she was sure she could lose Mammon in it. Oh it was so punk and awesome and warm looking, and the shop was closing in 15 minutes!

Quickly she rushed to the door of the store, hoping they had more than just a display, hoping they had her size. She stopped with her hand on the door handle.

It was then that she got a look at the price tag. Definitely not something she could spend on a coat, much less an impulse buy. Reaching into her pants pockets she realized she couldn't buy it even if she was so frivolous. She'd spent the last of her paycheck from her part-time on bribing the police. Sighing she looked at the coat for a minute more before continuing down the street. Mammon stared after her.

What the heck was that?

"Kay! Wait up." He rushed to catch up with her. "You really just gonna let that coat go? That was real Italian leather, trust me I have an eye for these things." He elbowed her in the side.

"Oh well...I already have a coat at home, and it's way too much for just a coat." She waved it off. She wasn't too disappointed, she was used to pinching pennies and not getting what she wanted every time. That and she knew there would be other cool coats. Mammon was still incredulous.

"Just a coat? Kay, just a coat?? That is not just a coat, I saw the way your face lit up. That is a really cool coat. Don't you deserve something really cool?"

"No more than the next girl" she shrugged. She wasn't special, if anything she was just annoying and awkward, she had accepted it.

"No you're not getting it, it's not just a coat." He circled around and stood in front of Acacia, blocking her from continuing home. "It's...the feeling of sliding the card across the scanner and getting something new! It's the hanger that no longer sits empty in your closet. It's the knowledge that every time you step outside, not only will you be warm, but you'll be the baddest bitch on the block guaranteed." He was practically salivating.

Acacia hid her smile with her hand. He was like an excited dog.

"You have a serious spending problem, Mammon" she rolled her eyes and kept walking.

0"Levi!"

"No"

"Aww come on," Mammon sat down next to Levi on the floor in front of the PlayStation. "I didn't even get to say anything."

"You wanna borrow money."

"Well I mean if you're offering…" Mammon responded quickly.

"No! Even if I was born yesterday and thought you might actually pay me back, I don't have any. Take your panhandling elsewhere." Levi didn't look up from his game.

"Fine" he grumbled. Guess his brothers were as broke as him, who would have human money?

Turning his eyes to the kitchen he noticed MC turned away from him, cooking. That could be a good start. Sliding up behind them he planted one hand on the counter in front of them and spoke quietly in their ear.

"Hey MC, whatcha makin'?" They smiled slightly.

"Mac and cheese, your brother won't eat unless I make him."

"You're gonna make Lucifer eat kraft mac and cheese?" He shook his head.

"He'll eat rocks on bread if I make it for him cause he knows he can't cook for shit. What do you want?" They turned abruptly to face him, arms folded across their chest.

"I uh…" he always got flustered when MC talked to him like that. "Well I was wondering...um maybe...heh uh...you know you could…"

"Before we're dead."

"Ah so I wanted to know where I could get some money?" He said a little too quickly.

"You could try a job." They shrugged, turning back to their cooking. Him? Mammon? Work?

Obviously they weren't in the mood to give him a loan, and he thought even his most sophisticated scams wouldn't make it past their radar. None of his brothers had human money... maybe a job was his only option.

As he weighed his opinions he didn't notice Acacia peeking at him from the hallway. She pushed down the jealousy rising in her chest, she had nothing to be jealous of. She had no claim on who Mammon liked and she knew that. Still she couldn't help the envy and self hatred that rose when she saw how he stumbled over himself talking to MC.

Why wouldn't he like them more after all? They were straightforward and confident and knew exactly who they were and what they wanted. They were so good with people and stressful situations...what did Acacia have in comparison?

Sometimes it felt like everyone she'd ever liked ended up liking MC.

Sighing, she stepped back into the bathroom. She didn't want to embarrass him while he was trying to talk to MC.

But Mammon didn't have MC on his mind at the moment. He was thinking of money as he paced down the street. He was thinking of finally getting those boots he'd been eyeing. But apparently work was the only way to do that. He shivered at the thought.

He could always walk around town and... see what he could rustle up. It was a tried and true method of fast-cash-grabbing. He probably wouldn't get caught again. His pace slowed as he actually weighed the potential consequences.

Acacia bailed him out yesterday, and three times before that. It couldn't have been cheap, and his brothers probably would've just let him rot in holding to teach him a lesson. Even if he was 90% sure he wouldn't be caught…

He couldn't bring himself to believe it was enough.

Coming to a full stop he looked at his shoes as he processed what he was going to do. He could, in theory, just not work and not get the boots. The only question was whether he was more willing to work...or to not buy stuff.

There was really only one option here huh.

Squaring his shoulders he continued his stride, this time with more purpose. The purpose of getting a j-huaeh.

Ehem, sorry he gagged a little.

The purpose of getting a job! Surely it wouldn't be that hard.

0Mammon had worked in customer service for 2 days. He was never going to work again, he couldn't, boots weren't worth it. A woman spit on him. Actually spit on him.

And he couldn't even peel her skin off! He just had to take it like a trained dog. He was over it. Stomping down the street he started mentally plotting his elaborate job-quitting scenario. Then a familiar store caught his eye.

There in the window was the same jacket Acacia had been eyeing. He only looked for a moment before continuing down the street. He didn't know why she wanted that thing, it wasn't even designer.

And she couldn't afford it cause she had to bail him out. No, he shook his head, she couldn't have afforded it anyway cause she's poor and can't spend a lot on a stupid coat.

Oh...that was worse.

If she couldn't even afford a coat there was no way she could afford to bribe the cops on a regular basis. So why did she? Why was she helping when she didn't really have the means? Was she hoping he'd do something for her?

Or... maybe she was just being nice. Maybe she bailed him out once cause she was a good friend but then he kept being a selfish prick and getting himself in trouble. He turned around and looked back at the coat.

It really was a simple wish.

He made a decision, he'd make it up to Acacia. She'd been nice and hadn't asked him for anything. She hadn't even called him stupid when he screwed up, she just gave him tips to stay out of future trouble.

He'd postpone quitting for a while. A different scenario started to take form in his mind. One that wasn't as elaborate, but just as important.

0Acacia was upset that Mammon had been so flustered around MC, but she had come to terms with it. She trudged up the stairs, still tired from school, and flopped onto the bed. Distant conversation caught her ears.

"You can't expect me to eat that, it's not–"

"Eat the damn mac, Lucifer."

Rolling her eyes she turned to lay on her side and got a face full of leather.

What?

Sitting up she examined the foreign garment. Without explanation or credit, there on her bed sat a brand new coat.

The very one she wanted.

[1947journal]

the day runs away by weasel

he wraps his arms around me. hair spreading while my hands ruffle white fur. we fall onto our overused mattress—springs scraping my back but i say nothing as i remove his shirt and toss it to the floor.

  the fox pulls away, nuzzles my cheek and asks, “do you love me?”

  i smile faintly, “more than these cigs i puff for life.” i kiss his neck. he emits a low giggle while his fingers slide the zipper down my jeans. before he could pull my cock out, the phone rings. it was his phone. my heart beats heavy on my chest as his phone remains mostly silent unless something was wrong with his folks. sendo hops off to answer. he goes through the general hellos and just listens. his ears perk up, his eyes lose color. the news was not something i wanted to hear. i leaned over and took a swig of jack from the bottle. it sat perfectly on the nightstand with my cigs, the best poison to cope with. “fuck!” he exclaims. his thumb swipes across his phone as he slams it down to the top of the dresser. “iz, that was the dealership. they’re repo’ing the car. I thought you were caught up! What the fuck happened?” and thus any chance of me getting lade tonight was crushed by the will of threatening/non-threatening bill collectors. “this is the second repo, and the fifth time we could lose the lights. i can’t keep doing this, iz. i need you to get it the fuck together!”

  i leave it all unanswered and swallow another gulp of whiskey, followed by a long drag from my cig. he stood there by the door, tapping his toe furiously, as if i would answer to his anger. after a moment of waiting, he sighs in defeat, “fuck it. i’m going to bed. you just sort this shit out.” and with that, the lights flush off.

  i burn the cig on my forearm. i feel nothing. i close my eyes and try to drift to sleep.

  ***

  the alarm screeches 4am—it rattles me out of sleep with its constant screeching and vibrating. my tail flips off the last of the cover as i try to swim off the bed to shut it the fuck off. fuck christ! it’s monday morning and i gotta get ready for work, and teh start of my day is this loud mouthed little shit squawkin’ all up in my ear.

  when my feet reach the floor, i slam my fist into the glowing screen of my phone. one day, it’ll crack. i dunno when, but when it does, i won’t be pissed enough to care. i pull open the drawer and pop a tablet of junk, then light a cig to start the day. my body was cold. the pain of being off the stuff was pummelin’ my sides. unfinished floors send ice up my legs, makin’ my fur stand harder than an erect cock. i should probably finish them one day.

  i go without the coffee. never touch the shit. it wakes you up, but it tastes like piss.

  our comforter shifts as my boyfriend rolls over. his hair tangles over the white fur of his face. i could smack his ass awake, but i let the fox rest. he’s not in the mood to talk with me now. i meander through my home to the bathroom in the nude. the windows are open, but it don’t matter. not a goddamn soul to look at me.

  i flush the lights on and the roaches scatter. little bastards. i’ll figure out where their nest is eventually, but now i gotta get the fuck outta hear. the green of my fur looks paler each day. my eyes sag heavy. too many body bags are weighin’ them down. i suppose the stress is turnin’ me white. the fox calls me old. i suppose early thirties is old enough. my hands run through my face to shake the grogginess off, but it’s only momentary relief. as a weasel, i’ve learned to be a cynical as possible. don’t hope for nothin’ ‘cause there’s nothin’ out there. you’r e born. you fuck. you die. and what’s in the afterlife? i dunno. maybe you’re reborn. maybe it’s just empty fuckin’ space. who knows. it doesn’t matter. none of this matters.

  i get dressed for work. jeans. sneakers and a button down shirt. the office don’t care and i’m not jumpin’ for promotions. i get my keys, and twist the door knob when my phone rings. “yea?”

  “um...hi, this is angela. i’m looking for izzy. is he available?”

  “it’s five o’clock in the mornin’. da fuck do you want?” these goddamn bill collectors man. you can’t be off your fuckin’ guard for a second, otherwise they pounce on you.

  “i’m calling from ace credit in regards to a delinquent account. is izzy available or are...”

  “no i’m not available!” i hang up the phone and drop it in my pocket. where the fuck do these assholes get off. i’m in a bad enough spot tryin’ to pay my current bills, but these fuckwads want me to pay whatever’s past due. i slam the door, pop another junk tablet and head to work.

  the junk works sometimes. mellows me out. takes the aches away. sometimes i can feel it dissolve in my system as my flu symptoms leave. it helps me coast. helps me forget that life is comin’ at me so goddamn fast right now.

  i start my car. work calls and i only got a few cigarettes left to burn before i get to the gas station. my radio emits a blast of hardcore punk rock. i use it to piss off my neighbor, a wannabe satan. this mothafuckin’ bulldog sits in his wheelchair and judges anyone who passes by his yard. the hope was lost in his eyes. i wonder if he hates us because he’s lost so much.

  they’re singin’ about neddin’ a smoke and a good set of tits on the radio. when i get to the gas stop i toss the last cig in my mouth and finish the song. the last of the butt pounded in the car’s ashtray/cup holder.

  when i get to the counter, the guy looks at me strange. like i’m gonna jump him. fuckin’ skunks are always paranoid about somethin’. i guess runnin’ a gas stop does that to you too. i throw a twenty on the counter, “pack of the damned and put the rest on five.”

  i fill up with whatever’s left and speed out. more tits on the radio screeches from my speakers.

  ***

  i get to the office. meredith is right at the fuckin’ door with her coffee polluting the air. i hate the person who built this shithole. they put the big boss’ office right at the front of all the action. anyone knows you put them in the back so they don’t have to hear shit about the lower employees. if it don’t concern them, they don’t need to know. the bitch smiles at me with the steam of coffee rising into her nostrils. i wondered if she liked it just for the smell or if she really drank the filth. i’ve never seen her take a drop, but i could be wrong. meredith was of average height for most folks. the usual 5.5, but for an otter she was fuckin’ tall. meredith stood there talkin’ to the boss about how hard it is to find a house with more than one garage. her purple blouse ruffled as she stomped her foot and sighed heavily. she was already defeated.

  “who needs more than one garage?” i asked, knowing i’d get a long answer that wouldn’t care to hear.

  “it’s absolutely necessary!” do you know what you can do with a garage?”

  i roll my eyes as i fiddle with my keys to open the my door. “i don’t know, meredith, start a damn fine meth lab?” the boss started to cackle from his chair. the overworked piece of equipment rolling back over tough carpet as the large bear shot out with laughter. his chair squealed with movement as if it were ready to die. as if it could not go on much longer.

  “izzy, i just need two garage’s. it’s cultural. it’s society, and i must be part of the society. otherwise the people i frequent will simply ban me from their social gatherings. so this is a dire emergency for me. i would prefer it if you took my feelings seriously!” pieces of black fur flew around in the boss’ office as he slowly finished cackling like a mad woman.

  i thought of asking her what culture she’s talkin’ about but i gave a defeated sigh instead and set my smokes on the desk of my office. “how’s your husband?” i changed quick. there was no reason to stay on something that will only cause havoc later. i’d get too agitated for the rest of the office’s comfort zone and i don’t need that. i’ve been to hr too many times in the past, don’t wanna see the bastards again. apparently, having the attitude of a grumpy old fart is not fashionable to an office coked up on antidepressants and sugar.

  “still screwing around. he’s overseas now with some broad whose name i can’t pronounce. i probably won’t give it the time of day. in the end, he is my husband. he’ll come back to my sweet ass when he’s ready. plus, i can’t divorce him, i have the girls to think of. kids therapy isn’t cheap and i’m already spending too much money.”

  “so decided against the divorce? i remember that was a hot topic last year.”

  she sighed as if some relief was lifted off her, “well when you have kids and a couple houses together, it’s not an easy thing to talk about. in the end, this was easier. we feel, at least. plus, we’re still paying on those houses.”

  i didn’t answer after that. i watched her stain her teeth with the coffee and walk away, her hips swaying down the hall to another office.

  “i don’t give a fuck who she is. she’s a goddamn bitch. i can’t have her in the office anymore; just get her the fuck out.” a bear is not so quiet. the boss’ voice roared from his office and down to the other end of the hall. this wasn’t the first time the fucker caused problems on the phone, and when he got goin’ it was an interestin’ thing to listen in on.

  emails piled on. i took a tab of more junk and let them gather dust. most of them were reply-alls from assholes who couldn’t use a computer properly. fuckwads. what a life, to be so fuckin’ oblivious, three garages. i’d be happy for a house that wasn’t fallin’ apart, but that’s too much to ask from god, so fuck the bastard up his tight ass!

  it was a quiet morning. generally office folks typing at computers and small chit chat in the kitchen. nothing too fuckin’ special. i stared at my pc screen for a bit, just coasting until the end of the day. i used to be productive until i figured out there’s not much you can do to get fired. state jobs keep you til your dead. the junk kept me calm. no weird visions, just kept my brain off the current situation. it traveled beyond the ether and into days forgotten long ago. it’s odd how drugs bring back good times, but feeds off the bad ones to keep you goin’. you just want to forget and drug x does that for you. cocain, alcohol, what the fuck ever, they’re all the same.

  i thought of him. the foxy piece of ass at home. he hates it when i call him that. i’m an asshole, guess i should learn. i love the guy though, but we’re wearin’ thin. my fingers play with my office window and open it to gather some fresh air, instead of the stale office shit. i light my cig and look outside, thinking of what else would crumble after the fox would leave. i want reach out to him, he’s not so far away, but i’m not worthy of his time. just a fuck up who can’t pay the bills on time, but he loves me for some ungodly reason. last night i dreamt of him walking away. i called out to him but there was no answer. his hair flowed outward as he disappeared into the large abyss. when he got far away, i could only see a spec of him, like a white light at the end of the tunnel, getting dimmer, and dimmer. just fading out of all the problems we’re facin’. or i’m facin’ who the fuck knows anymore, man. my nimble fingers drop the remainder of my cig to the floor. i watch as the ashes scatter away from the body and think of my blood being the ashes; my body, the stick. somehow, there’d be dignity in the death.

  “yo, iz—got a sec?” this slender, lizzard fuck slides through my door and places his skinny ass in my chair. “you got that report we talked about? need to see where the accounts are at.” fuck! this asshole’s askin’ for a goddamn project now?

  “jeff, they’re almost done. i’ll get em to you by tomorrow, alright?” i reply in a stern tone. the kind of tone that says “don’t fuck with me,” it ain’t the kind of morning where i want to work. it’s more the morning where i want to just exist and do nothing more.

  “dude, supposed to have it to me by last week. kinda disappointed you don’t have it yet.” as if his disappointment means shit. “you know i’m the guy that monitors performance and reports to the boss, right? i can’t save you if you fuck it up.” it’s always the assistant who’s the snitch. fuckin’ cunt.

  “got it. you’ll have it.” i leave it at that, keeping my face out the window to refrain from showing him how pissed off i am. he doesn’t say anything further. his feed slink to the door and he disappears into another office.

  i light up another cig and just coast for a little while. i run with time, without regard for time. it moves forward and i slink along with it, not knowing where i’ll go off to next. i’m just here. just here until death—

  ***

  did nothin’ at work today. no reports. no programs. not a goddamn thing. they can’t fire me though, so what’s the deal with bustin’ your ass if they’re gonna hold some promotion job that has to go through all the hr channels and official hiring process? the clock says six and i gotta get goin’. the office is closin’ up and i grab my keys to leave. avoiding eye contact with the lizzard bastard, i make it to the exit and bolt to my car. my progress is not a conversation i need to have. jeff’s a hard-ass anyway.

  i start my car, pop a tablet of junk and light up. the sun is murderin’ my eyes as i fly eighty miles an hour down a thirty five. the news is talkin’ about the issues of politicians sending dick pics and the promiscuity of every other famous fuck. who cares? we all fuck. there’s not an person in this world who don’t fuck somebody at some point in their life. we’re sexual creatures trying to fight off our desires through church and god, well fuck god, man. just fuck if you wanna fuck. but the news has to report on our royalty since we don’t have an actual king and queen. these celebrities are our royalty. what’s the new movie star doing now? how many kids did she adopt? what nude pics got leaked? it goes on and on. it’s all bullshit.

  the sun is a belligerent prick. somedays i wish i shelled out cash for prescrip. sunglasses so i could see on the drive home, but i forget and don’t bother with it by the time i remember. i drop my cig out the window and watch it fly back in the mirror. the cops don’t monitor this road. it’s easy to slide through to get home, otherwise i’d have to explain to some snot-nosed cop about why i was speeding in the neighborhood. why i was endangerin’ the children. like the cops are holy.

  after an hour of cruzin’, i fly into the driveway, get outta my car and walk into my home. there’s an eerieness to the silence surroundin’ me. i flip the light switch on. nothin’. i hit the power on the tv remote. nothin’. the bastards finally came for the lights.

  the door closes softly. i shuffle around in the dark until i find the couch. i could open a window as the sun sets, but it don’t matter. none of this matters. i push my hand against the cushion to see if there’s any roaches there, but i only feel paper. my heart falls crooked as i pick it up and read the contents. the fox isn’t around here now. normally he’s here. normally he’d be able to save me, but i am abandoned. as my heart empties, i read, “ izzy, i’ve gone home. i love you, but i can’t handle all the uncertainty. the lights are off, love. i can’t keep doing this anymore with you. i need...don’t hate me, but i need stability and you haven’t given that to me in a long time. i’m sorry.”

  i crumple the note and toss it away. his scent is still here in the house, but without him here, i’m nothing more than a shell. i light a cig. i think i hear the repo guys for the car, but i can’t be bothered with their bullshit. the smoke twirls around my face as i remember the dream of the fox leaving, only now, i can’t see anything anymore. there is only the abyss and my cig. the sun will rise tomorrow. it will rise and i’ll walk along with time again. my body grows tired under the setting sun. my cig still burning, still active enough for a few good puffs. my hand rests on my legs as my eyes fall heavy on my face. my body clenches with the burn of the stick on my clothes, but i do nothing. it’ll die out soon, like all flames do.