#the sheep writes

[sheepibum]

Title: a constellation of blood drops

Summary: Tekkadan decides to salvage Gaelio’s mobile suit for spare parts; turns out that the most useful one is the pilot. To the dismay of everyone involved.

i | ii | iii | iv | v |

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

VI. nulla dies umquam memori vos eximet aevo (no day shall erase you from the memory of time)

Gaelio has been preemptively regretting having to talk to McGillis about this ever since the last serious conversation he had with Mikazuki. It has made him miserable, but at least he’s prepared when the man boards the Isaribi and makes time to speak with him.

He clears his throat from the dread filling his stomach and forges ahead, because he made a promise, damn it.

“How much do you remember about the laws regarding polygamous marriage for a member of the Seven Stars Families?” is what he says.

Predictably, McGillis turns toward him with a smile that could cut glass.

“Oh? Are you planning that far ahead already?”

Gaelio does his best to shrug without wincing.

“Say, if I were to marry all members of Tekkadan, would they be recognized as free citizens of the Earth Sphere?”

And Gaelio will tell himself later to mark this day on his calendar, because it’s the first time he has managed to surprise McGillis into howling with laughter until he’s a writhing mass of humanity curled up in a ball, trying to fit his fist into his own mouth to hush the sounds he’s making.

“There is...” He gasps, still shaking. “There is a limit to the number of... consorts an heir of one of the families is allowed to have.”

Gaelio sighs; of course there is.

“Less than—” He does a mental calculation, the whole of Tekkadan plus whatever relatives they may have, plus the pastry sisters might be too big of a stretch; he probably would have to make do with the most vulnerable younger members; “—fifty?”

McGillis snorts, but it is good-naturedly and his eyes are still bright. It’s a good look on him. Makes it a bit harder to remember that Gaelio will never forgive him.

“Try twelve.”

“Damn.”

“Yes,” McGillis nods, his smile sharpening in way that is impossible to ignore. “However, there are no laws that limit the number of children an heir of one of the families can adopt to ensure the survival of their House and Legacy.”

Gaelio doesn’t ask is that what you father did? but he thinks about it, and that’s bad enough. Regardless of their past, they are here now, working toward a common goal, and that goal involves making sure that the members of Tekkadan have a life waiting for them when this conflict ends.

“Thank you, McGillis.”

“You’re welcome,” McGillis honest smile is becoming a more common sight these days, but it still manages to punch the breath out of him every time. “But you were also right, should you choose to marry, your spouse would be recognized as a free citizen of the Earth Sphere and part of one of the families.”

“That’s... good.”

“Yes, I suppose Mikazuki Bauduin has a nice ring to it.” And then, because he’s a bastard, he adds: “However, I must remind you that your family will ask you to provide an heir, so you should discuss the topic of surrogacy with him before that.”

It is entirely possible that McGillis is trying to rile him up, but really, they grew up in the same social circles and he should know better. Gaelio has already thought extensively about that.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Miss Atra seems already determined to carry his children and there is no requirement for the heir of the family to be blood related to me.”

McGillis stares at him gob smacked and Gaelio mentally adds another exclamation point to the mark that he will put on his calendar. He has surprised him twice in less than twenty minutes, surely that is some kind of record. Next thing he knows, McGillis is laughing so hard that he’s in pain and Orga bangs into the door threatening the two of them to behave and don’t make me come in there like an angry mother.

What even is his life.

★

There is no point in pretending that Mikazuki would choose him above everyone else vying for his attention, but those vying for his attention will at last have to recognize that it would be a convenient union. For all involved.

“Four spouses is well within the limits, isn’t it?”

“The Turbines have been a terrible influence on you, Gaelio. But yes, four is a very respectable number, especially so if the point seems to be to ensure an adequate offspring is produced... But four?”

“... Mikazuki should be obvious.”

“So it is, but he is also the choice that would be most contended.”

McGillis doesn’t need to clarify what he means; not only is Mikazuki another man, and a much too young looking one to boot, and that will be enough to get tongues wagging, but he is also from Mars, and not even a citizen but a Human Debris. He has the stigma of the Alaya-Vijnana system quite literally impressed upon his skin. He has no family ties that could offer any sort of advantage financially, politically or otherwise, although the reputation of Tekkadan should at least assuage those seeking advantage in military affairs. He is also, and the thought alone stings, disabled when not plugged to the Barbatos. He is quite possibly the worst choice of a partner he could make. There is no one else he wants more, is the thing.

Atra is little better, and she reminds him too much of his own sister to treat her as anything else, but he could pretend for all of their sakes. Mikazuki would not leave her behind, and Atra would not let Mikazuki go anywhere she wouldn’t be able to follow, so accepting her has been an unavoidable choice.

“Mikazuki and Miss Atra, then, I understand, but the other two?”

Gaelio explains his next choice, making no effort to hide how much it pains him to do so.

Kudelia is a possibility, both a best-case and worst-case scenario at once. On the one hand, a union with her would be glaringly obviously beneficial in all the ways that matter to the remaining members of the Seven Stars, on the other hand, she is as infamous as she is popular and the ideas she fights for haven’t exactly endeared her to those who wish to protect the status quo. He would have to tread lightly when presenting his intentions, but if she cares for Mikazuki, and he knows she does, she would have to accept that the protection offered by his lineage would be an invaluable asset.

“Alright then,” McGillis winces, and it’s a wonder that he has stopped wearing his mask at all times around him. “And the fourth? Orga?”

Orga Itsuka loves Mikazuki in a wholly different way, but he would never accept to marry Gaelio for his sake, pretense or not.

Gaelio sighs, exasperated.

“Hush Middy, at this point I think is accurate to say that I would need a crowbar to pry him off Mikazuki.”

(Orga comes banging at the door not five minutes later, after one of the younger members of Tekkadan goes and tells him that McGillis is being murdered in his own room and is dying quite loudly.

“I swear to god!” Snarls Orga, when he slams open the door, although he doesn’t believe in any higher beings.

“That’s just how he laughs, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Make him stop!”)

★

McGillis is no longer laughing, but there’s a small smile on his face that makes it seem like he’s no longer Atlas, burdened by the weight of the world and its sins.

It is with that same smile, but cold, cold eyes that he turns to Gaelio and speaks once more.

“You’ll have to make sure they survive the war, then.”

Gaelio catches himself before nodding, the tone of McGillis voice so mild he could have been talking about the weather. This is not something they have discussed before.

“War?” The word leaves his chest like a ragged exhalation, and McGillis looks sorry for him.

“... I’m sorry, Gaelio.”

Sometimes, McGillis makes it too easy to remember that he should hate him. That he does, sometimes.

“What have you not told me, McGillis?”

McGillis closes his eyes and begins to talk.

★

“That was your plan?” He sneers, in spite of himself, once McGillis is finished. “That was—that was your plan, that was it?!”

McGillis opens his mouth to defend said plan, be he needn’t have bothered. Gaelio has no intention of letting him speak.

“What were you going to do if they didn’t accept your command?! What made you think they would take a look at a Mobile Suit and submit just for an obsolete law?!”

“It the Gundam with the soul of—”

“It’s a Mobile Suit, for fuck’s sake! A children’s story!”

And oh, isn’t that a revelation. The way McGillis jaw snaps shut, against the cruelty of the world that insists on shattering the ideals he holds most dear? A fairy tale with brave knights that are able to save the world with a feat of valor, of strength?

This world is not so kind.

(Had he always been so naive? Or had he, like Gaelio, chosen to blind himself to whatever threatened the hope he had managed to salvage for himself?)

No, this world is far too cruel for a man like him. He can almost justify still caring for him.

“I always thought you were the smartest out of all of us,” he says, because he still loves this man like a brother, but he hasn’t forgiven him and probably never will. “I’m glad to see that is not the case.”

And then—and then he dares and places his hand on McGillis shoulder, a ghost of a touch.

“I’m sure we can come up with some other plan, between the two of us. Just in case,” he adds, because he doesn’t want to see the hope crushed in his eyes again.

“Yes,” McGillis smiles. “Thank you, Gaelio.”

His real smile is a thing of wonder, so different from the usual, controlled upturn of his mouth than Gaelio learned to associate with the man that it changes his whole face, makes him looks years younger.

Gaelio has to swallow down the bitterness in his throat. This is what he means. So many years, and he never noticed he had been living a lie. He hadn’t wanted to notice, he just wanted the comfort of having his friends, his upper-class life, of not wanting for anything.

He has to go to the Barbatos after that, and for the first time he’s the one who pulls Mikazuki against him and holds him there even though Mikazuki protests that he was practicing his writing. This world is far too cruel. It has taken far too much from the people he has come to care about, and he can’t help—he can’t help but think that it’s not over yet.

★

Given the latest revelations, Gaelio has had no choice but to (once again) come to the same, sad conclusion he’s been trying to forget in this new lease of life: ultimately, he cannot trust McGillis.

Hell, he can only barely trust himself. In all honesty, given that he was born and raised in the same cesspit as McGillis and Catra and Iok fucking Kujan, he shouldn’t trust himself at all.

Unfortunately, circumstances demand that he stepped up and played the role of responsible adult, regardless of how woefully unprepared for that he is.

Indeed: McGillis is delusional and Tekkadan is mostly made up of children with no idea how the world works beyond the horrors they have survived. He has the task of saving them all or the most he can. Obviously he’s the only one who can see the kind of mess they’ll make if left to their own devices. But that’s fine, between himself and Merribit he’s almost certain they can make up for the lack of common sense of everyone else.

Most of all, what he cannot believe is that he’s turned out to be the sensible, reasonable one from among his childhood friends.

★

Spurred by such terrible thoughts, Gaelio find himself once again hunting down Orga Itsuka with the single-mindedness that probably runs in the veins of all children of the Seven Stars Families, much to their detriment. At least it’s being put to good use in this case. Probably.

Orga Itsuka looks warily at him; not like he did at the beginning, or the first time Gaelio cornered demanding a truce, but more as if he knows that he’s not going to like whatever Gaelio has to say but it is nonetheless in his best interests to listen. Merribit, thank all the stars, is also there, holding Orga’s arm like that will prevent him from escaping their clutches.

Like before, Gaelio explains his reasons to Orga Itsuka mostly because he has to make him understand in order for him to give Gaelio permission to assign himself another near-suicidal, but necessary, mission.

Because Rustal Elion is an opponent so far above the wight class of the child soldiers that he would swallow them whole and they’d only notice when they started being digested; that’s the kind of monster that man is, every inch the Head of on the Seven Star Families.

“Rustal Elion will never be your friend, he won’t even be your ally, but if he thinks he can use you to get close to his goal, he’ll do it.”

That man would use someone until he couldn’t wring a single drop of blood more, and then he’d use them to pave his way to the goal he holds dearest above all, that he intends to reach even if it meant betraying and abandoning his own family and subordinates.

“He doesn’t want to be a footnote, he doesn’t want to be just another name in a branch of his family tree; he wants entire chapters in history books to be dedicated to him, he wants to leave a mark.”

Ruthless Elion. Back in the Academy, all the students used to jokingly call him that, in hushed voices. And none of them knew a thing, none of them could have imagined how true that nickname was.

“So offer him that,” Gaelio says, to a wide-eyed Orga. “And give him whatever he asks for when he doesn’t believe you capable of giving him that, because having him as a lukewarm ally will be leagues better than letting him Tekkadan could stand in his way, or, worse, could be used as a stepping stone.”

★

Gaelio bites the inside of his cheek, debating his next betrayal, but merely as a formality. As much as he loves McGillis as a brother, as the best friend he believed him to be, as the man whose ideals he will follow, whose side he will take in the war he’s so hellbent on starting—Gaelio’s heart already has a clear owner.

And if that owner also has a clear owner, then the hierarchy is clear.

Gaelio opens his mouth and spits out the words, half warning, half plea:

“Take it from someone who knows, Orga Itsuka—McGillis has no idea what he’s doing.”

(He doesn’t understand how the real world works, he doesn’t say. In spite of having already been exposed to the worst of it, he definitely will never say.)

★

Orga wavers at that, maybe because it should sound like nothing but lies, maybe because the honesty in Gaelio’s voice feels as though it had to be extracted with hooks and pliers, but he finally concedes.

Gaelio is granted permission to present their case before their enemy, to go into the wolf’s den and offer it a meal in hopes it will choose to ally itself with them.

Mikazuki had made a deal with the devil for their sake. Gaelio would be remiss if he did anything less.

Still, Mikazuki’s devil is made of metal and asked for nothing but flesh; Gaelio’s is flesh and blood and human all over and he doesn’t know yet what he will be asked to give.

But he will give it, if it is in his hands to do so, if that means that Tekkadan, this court of children that Mikazuki would kill and bleed for, can be saved.

Can be safe.

★

Gaelio is not Tekkadan’s, in spite of everything that has happened, he still believes this. Tekkadan, however, is Gaelio’s. Such are the fangs of his upbringing, finally showing.

It is only right, then, that such fangs and claws are put to use in safeguarding what is his.

He prepares for his arranged meeting with Rustal Elion with a fastidiousness that he remember afflicted his mother when she prepared Almiria for her engagement party with McGillis. He was sent appropriate clothing for the occasion, and McGillis even lent him one of his most trusted aides, aware that this would be akin to an opening move in this war he still expected, who had trimmed Gaelio’s hair and once again caked his face in makeup—although, granted, of much higher quality than the one he had previously used to hide his scars.

Gaelio looks at the full-length mirror McGillis’ aide had brought with him, and inspects his perfectly-tailored armor, the subtlety of his war paint, squares his shoulders and goes off to bargain with the devil.

★

Gaelio has already played the zealot before Rustal Elion, it should hardly be a difficult thing to play such role again. If the object of his zealotry has shifted just enough to align with Elion's own interest, no doubt twisted by the very real flaws of the organization he was, oh, so willing to worship before, and how it had only proven to fall short of his expectations after his, oh, so harrowing experiences while undercover—well, people are always willing to see what they want to see. Gaelio won't be even lying, really.

(There was worship of course, as there were expectations, given how he was brought up, his family, his everything, and all those things lie in a heap of bullshit, now that Gaelio has peeked behind the curtain and found the wizened old husk of their ideals, rotting like a corpse left in a basement.)

★

Rustal Elion receives Gaelio personally and escorts him to a chamber in one of his ships so opulent it could be displayed as a piece on a museum dedicated to the influence of the Château de Versailles.

“Please sit, Lord Bauduin. We will have refreshments brought to us in a minute, but I believe you’d prefer some privacy for our discussion.”

“Of course, my thanks for your consideration, Lord Elion,” Gaelio makes a show of bowing his head just a smidgen more than strictly necessary, placing himself squarely beneath his host. “It is an extremely sensitive matter what I wished to discuss with you, although perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I wished to plead my case before you, as someone who as of right now could be considered the head of the Seven Stars families.”

Rustal Elion takes a set before him and laces his fingers together with a placid smile, the very picture of an understanding, doting superior willing to lend an ear to a troubled youth.

“Please speak freely, Lord Bauduin. I am aware of your complicated situation, after all and would happily lend a helping hand should you need it.”

“It is indeed a complicated situation,” Gaelio agrees, demurely. “And I’m afraid that I have only complicated it further during my time… in this mission, in a manner unbefitting of the heir of one of the Seven Stars. Which is why I must beg your assistance, Lord Elion, as I’ve heard you have a vested interest in the standing of Mars and all its citizens.”

This is a fib, and not even a very good one, since all of Gjallarhorn could be said to have such ‘vested interest’, but only for the worse. However, Rustal Elion’s eyes shine with the intensity of a predator smelling blood and he opens his hands in a welcoming, soothing gesture, a friend in Gaelio’s hour of need willing to hear him out, even if the last time they spoke Gaelio had all but called all of Mars the dregs of humanity.

“Of course, Lord Bauduin! Such humanitarian causes are one of the many duties of our station, and your first-hand experience has no doubt granted you a valuable insight of the plights the so-called human debris must endure,” he says, panegyrizing to the point of artifice. “You can rest assured that I will not pass judgment on you, rather, I believe you should be praised for having learned from this experience.”

Gaelio tries not to wince and cannot be sure if he succeeded. He thinks of the many ways he could spin a tale for Rustal Elion to bait him into action, to present the choice of allying himself with—not Tekkadan, certainly not, but the heads of two of the Seven Stars, Six, now that the Issue family has lost its successor. That would give him the support of half the families, not counting his own, an absolute, undeniable majority. It takes him perhaps half a second to realize that, if Rustal Elion deems him untrustworthy, they will all be doomed and there would be no guarantee of him leaving this ship with his life.

Thus, Gaelio, who knows he’s making a gamble he can’t afford to lose, chooses to parade his one weakness in front of Rustal Elion.

“I intend to marry a human debris,” he says, with all the gravitas such declaration of war deserves. “I will not bring shame upon my family, so the laws will have to change. The world will have to change, to make a place for us.”

Gaelio will drag the entire world, kicking and screaming if need be, to the point where they all see at least a fraction of the brilliance he sees in Mikazuki.

“He will not be called a human debris when I marry him; he will be a person, with all the respect that entails. I won’t have the time to formally duel everyone who shows any disrespect otherwise. And I will formally duel everyone, anyone, the whole damn world, to have him.”

Even as the words leave his lips, he knows they are the truth and there’s no hiding that from the predator before him. Rustal Elion must be able to read some of his desperation in Gaelio’s face or voice, because the amiable business smile he had kept firmly affixed on his face finally changed to something realer and hungrier.

“If you can grant me that, Lord Elion,” Gaelio says, with the fervor of the devout. “I promise you will have the support of the Bauduin family in all of your endeavors, as well as my personal cooperation, in whichever manner you see fit to use. I cannot speak for my good friend McGillis, but I have it on good authority that he would me more than amenable to join hands in pursuit of a worthy goal.”

Rustal Elion abandons all pretense of humility, throws his head back and laughs.

“Why! You flatter this old man, Lord Bauduin,” his smile only grows, even as his eyes do his best to dissect Gaelio where he stands. “Should I take this to mean that the Bauduin and Fareed families would support me, either in improving or restructuring Gjallahorn?”

Gaelio’s smile is one that would be at home in a family picture of a perfect day in the park, a charming young man adored by the world, with the rest of his life before him.

“The times have changed, Lord Elion. If the rest of the Heads would rather cling to the stories of old and bury their heads in the sand, we who know better are aware that this means we should change as well. Lord Kujan, for all his brashness, has made it no secret that you are willing to spearhead such changes. Please, do consider our proposal. We have high hopes for a mutually beneficial relationship.”

Gaelio stands up and bends in a perfectly respectful bow, before being escorted to the docks by one of Rustal Elion’s aides. Every step he takes before arriving to his ship, feels like ice cracking below him. It is only until he is on his way back that he allows himself to curl up into a tiny ball and hyperventilate, uncaring of which child has to see one of his breakdowns; by now it is practically a rite of passage.

(For who, he’s not quite sure.)

★

Mikazuki Bauduin.

It is a meagre offering; in another life such statement would be insulting, but in this one Gaelio knows better. He would much rather take Mikazuki’s last name. Gaelio Augus. He would have twice the ‘g’s that Mikazuki treasures for the connection it represents to Orga Itsuka. Gaelio Bauduin, with all the protection the name represents, with all the considerations both political and otherwise that he would be able to give Mikazuki, would be taking that away.

Bauduin.

The name of a ghost, since the scion of the Bauduin might as well be dead, for all that life has changed him.

But he has nothing else to give. Not even his clothes are his own.

Mikazuki Bauduin.

It should make him happy, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow to find out it doesn’t.

Perhaps, once McGillis is done wrecking havoc among the Seven Star Families, once Kudelia is done with her humanitarian work, once Tekkadan doesn’t have any reason to be other than the bonds they have and the moniker of ‘human debris’ is relegated to the gutter where it belongs, once Rustal Elion is done scribbling his name in history books for the sake of the legacy he so dreams of leaving, regardless of whether he has to write it down in ink or blood—perhaps then he will be allowed to be Gaelio Augus, with no need for consorts to ensure an heir, with no obligations to fulfill but those to his own heart.

He hopes Mikazuki is willing to wait for him.

God, he hopes they all are.

★

Ah, but Gaelio is wrong, after all.

This, although not a surprise, for once comes as a relief.

Here it is, something that he has, that is his, that he has been given: strips of pale blue leather, carefully woven and decorated with an iron charm. Tangible proof of the existence of life after death.

And this, too: he promised Mikazuki his own green-house, and he intends to keep that promise, honoring with the gravity of wedding vows and knightly oaths. He thinks of Mikazuki, surrounded by greenery, of Miss Atra’s laughter and Kudelia’s earnestness, and he thinks that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for a future in which he can have all of that.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Notes: Haha, it’s been so long I legit had to open up a bunch of wiki pages to look up some stuff. ヾ(￣▽￣)

But everything I was too lazy to look up I made up, yay!

I feel like I like this chapter, but I can't honestly tell anymore; I just wanted to get this out, like, pls just let me finish this damn chapter, I promise I will fix it all pretty when I finally post it on AO3—so here it is! I hope it was worth the wait, and as always thank you to everyone who still reads this thing ヾ(•ω•`)o

The fix-it is really heavy in this one and it will only grow stronger, so please forgive my sins keep that in mind. I’m scrubbing everything that goes wrong in the second season off the face of the planet with these last chapters.

(Augh, I don’t want to write Rustal Elion again, why must I suffer for my craft (；′⌒`))

Also, it's really been a year, right? Darn. Happy winter holidays (again) and happy new year (again), keep taking care of yourselves and eat something tasty and maybe pet a cat!

[lamb-with-a-machete]

𝚃̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝙼̷𝚊̷𝚗̷ 𝙾̷𝚏̷ 𝚃̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝙼̷𝚘̷𝚘̷𝚗̷ (𝙼̷𝚡̷𝙼̷/𝙼̷𝚡̷𝚃̷𝙼̷, 𝚁̷𝚘̷𝚖̷𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚌̷𝚎̷, 𝙵̷𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚝̷𝚊̷𝚜̷𝚢̷, 𝚂̷𝚖̷𝚞̷𝚝̷/𝙽̷𝚂̷𝙵̷𝚆̷)

𝙵̷𝚘̷𝚛̷ 𝚊̷𝚠̷𝚑̷𝚒̷𝚕̷𝚎̷ 𝚗̷𝚘̷𝚠̷, 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷’𝚟̷𝚎̷ 𝚋̷𝚎̷𝚎̷𝚗̷ 𝚜̷𝚎̷𝚎̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚐̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚒̷𝚜̷ 𝚘̷𝚍̷𝚍̷ 𝚋̷𝚞̷𝚝̷ 𝚋̷𝚎̷𝚊̷𝚞̷𝚝̷𝚒̷𝚏̷𝚞̷𝚕̷ 𝚖̷𝚊̷𝚗̷ 𝚒̷𝚗̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷𝚛̷ 𝚍̷𝚛̷𝚎̷𝚊̷𝚖̷𝚜̷.

𝙴̷𝚟̷𝚎̷𝚛̷𝚢̷ 𝚜̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚐̷𝚕̷𝚎̷ 𝚗̷𝚒̷𝚐̷𝚑̷𝚝̷, 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷ 𝚑̷𝚊̷𝚍̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚜̷𝚊̷𝚖̷𝚎̷ 𝚍̷𝚛̷𝚎̷𝚊̷𝚖̷. 𝚈̷𝚘̷𝚞̷’𝚍̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚔̷𝚎̷ 𝚞̷𝚙̷ 𝚒̷𝚗̷ 𝚊̷ 𝚕̷𝚊̷𝚛̷𝚐̷𝚎̷, 𝚟̷𝚊̷𝚜̷𝚝̷ 𝚏̷𝚒̷𝚎̷𝚕̷𝚍̷ 𝚘̷𝚏̷ 𝚕̷𝚊̷𝚟̷𝚎̷𝚗̷𝚍̷𝚎̷𝚛̷ 𝚐̷𝚛̷𝚊̷𝚜̷𝚜̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚊̷𝚝̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚜̷ 𝚍̷𝚘̷𝚝̷𝚝̷𝚎̷𝚍̷ 𝚠̷𝚒̷𝚝̷𝚑̷ 𝚐̷𝚕̷𝚘̷𝚠̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚐̷ 𝚏̷𝚕̷𝚘̷𝚠̷𝚎̷𝚛̷𝚜̷. 𝚃̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚗̷𝚒̷𝚐̷��̷𝚝̷ 𝚜̷𝚔̷𝚢̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚜̷ 𝚊̷ 𝚜̷𝚠̷𝚒̷𝚛̷𝚕̷ 𝚘̷𝚏̷ 𝚙̷𝚞̷𝚛̷𝚙̷𝚕̷𝚎̷𝚜̷ 𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚍̷ 𝚙̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚔̷𝚜̷ 𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚍̷ 𝚋̷𝚕̷𝚞̷𝚎̷𝚜̷ 𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚍̷ 𝚐̷𝚛̷𝚎̷𝚎̷𝚗̷𝚜̷, 𝚠̷𝚒̷𝚝̷𝚑̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚜̷𝚝̷𝚊̷𝚛̷𝚜̷ 𝚜̷𝚑̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚐̷ 𝚒̷𝚗̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚜̷𝚔̷𝚢̷ 𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚍̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚏̷𝚞̷𝚕̷𝚕̷ 𝚖̷𝚘̷𝚘̷𝚗̷ 𝚒̷𝚕̷𝚕̷𝚞̷𝚖̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚊̷𝚝̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚐̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚏̷𝚒̷𝚎̷𝚕̷𝚍̷.

𝚃̷𝚑̷𝚎̷𝚗̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚎̷𝚛̷𝚎̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚜̷ 𝚑̷𝚒̷𝚖̷.

𝙷̷𝚎̷’𝚍̷ 𝚜̷𝚖̷𝚒̷𝚕̷𝚎̷ 𝚏̷𝚛̷𝚘̷𝚖̷ 𝚊̷ 𝚍̷𝚒̷𝚜̷𝚝̷𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚌̷𝚎̷, 𝚊̷𝚕̷𝚖̷𝚘̷𝚜̷𝚝̷ 𝚝̷𝚎̷𝚊̷𝚜̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚐̷ 𝚢̷𝚎̷𝚝̷ 𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚟̷𝚒̷𝚝̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚐̷. 𝙷̷𝚎̷’𝚍̷ 𝚝̷𝚠̷𝚒̷𝚛̷𝚕̷ 𝚊̷𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚢̷ 𝚠̷𝚑̷𝚎̷𝚗̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷ 𝚝̷𝚛̷𝚒̷𝚎̷𝚍̷ 𝚝̷𝚘̷ 𝚊̷𝚙̷𝚙̷𝚛̷𝚘̷𝚊̷𝚌̷𝚑̷ 𝚑̷𝚒̷𝚖̷, 𝚒̷𝚝̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚜̷ 𝚕̷𝚒̷𝚔̷𝚎̷ 𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚜̷ 𝚏̷𝚕̷𝚘̷𝚊̷𝚝̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚐̷ 𝚘̷𝚗̷ 𝚊̷𝚒̷𝚛̷ 𝚠̷𝚒̷𝚝̷𝚑̷ 𝚑̷𝚘̷𝚠̷ 𝚏̷𝚊̷𝚜̷𝚝̷ 𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚜̷.

𝙷̷𝚎̷ 𝚠̷𝚘̷𝚞̷𝚕̷𝚍̷ 𝚕̷𝚎̷𝚊̷𝚍̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷ 𝚝̷𝚘̷ 𝚊̷ 𝚕̷𝚊̷𝚛̷𝚐̷𝚎̷ 𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚍̷ 𝚋̷𝚎̷𝚊̷𝚞̷𝚝̷𝚒̷𝚏̷𝚞̷𝚕̷ 𝚌̷𝚊̷𝚜̷𝚝̷𝚕̷𝚎̷ 𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚍̷ 𝚌̷𝚘̷𝚗̷𝚝̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚞̷𝚎̷ 𝚝̷𝚘̷ 𝚛̷𝚞̷𝚗̷ 𝚊̷𝚜̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷ 𝚌̷𝚑̷𝚊̷𝚜̷𝚎̷𝚍̷ 𝚑̷𝚒̷𝚖̷. 𝙷̷𝚎̷’𝚍̷ 𝚝̷𝚊̷𝚔̷𝚎̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷ 𝚝̷𝚘̷ 𝚊̷ 𝚛̷𝚘̷𝚘̷𝚖̷ 𝚠̷𝚒̷𝚝̷𝚑̷ 𝚊̷ 𝚕̷𝚊̷𝚛̷𝚐̷𝚎̷ 𝚖̷𝚒̷𝚛̷𝚛̷𝚘̷𝚛̷ 𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚍̷ 𝚜̷𝚝̷𝚎̷𝚙̷ 𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚜̷𝚒̷𝚍̷𝚎̷, 𝚋̷𝚞̷𝚝̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷’𝚍̷ 𝚜̷𝚞̷𝚍̷𝚍̷𝚎̷𝚗̷𝚕̷𝚢̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚔̷𝚎̷ 𝚞̷𝚙̷ 𝚋̷𝚎̷𝚏̷𝚘̷𝚛̷𝚎̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷ 𝚌̷𝚘̷𝚞̷𝚕̷𝚍̷ 𝚏̷𝚘̷𝚕̷𝚕̷𝚘̷𝚠̷.

𝚃̷𝚑̷𝚒̷𝚜̷ 𝚝̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚎̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚘̷𝚞̷𝚐̷𝚑̷, 𝚊̷𝚜̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷ 𝚠̷𝚘̷𝚔̷𝚎̷ 𝚞̷𝚙̷ 𝚒̷𝚗̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚏̷𝚒̷𝚎̷𝚕̷𝚍̷, 𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚜̷ 𝚜̷𝚒̷𝚝̷𝚝̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚐̷ 𝚛̷𝚒̷𝚐̷𝚑̷𝚝̷ 𝚒̷𝚗̷ 𝚏̷𝚛̷𝚘̷𝚗̷𝚝̷ 𝚘̷𝚏̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷ 𝚠̷𝚒̷𝚝̷𝚑̷ 𝚊̷ 𝚙̷𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚒̷𝚌̷𝚔̷𝚎̷𝚍̷ 𝚎̷𝚡̷𝚙̷𝚛̷𝚎̷𝚜̷𝚜̷𝚒̷𝚘̷𝚗̷.

••••••

𝙸̷𝚏̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷’𝚛̷𝚎̷ 𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚝̷𝚎̷𝚛̷𝚎̷𝚜̷𝚝̷𝚎̷𝚍̷ 𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚍̷ 𝚢̷𝚘̷𝚞̷’𝚟̷𝚎̷ 𝚛̷𝚎̷𝚊̷𝚍̷ 𝚖̷𝚢̷ 𝙶̷𝚘̷𝚘̷𝚐̷𝚕̷𝚎̷ 𝙳̷𝚘̷𝚌̷ 𝚘̷𝚛̷ 𝚙̷𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚗̷𝚎̷𝚍̷ 𝚙̷𝚘̷𝚜̷𝚝̷ 𝚠̷𝚒̷𝚝̷𝚑̷ 𝚊̷𝚕̷𝚕̷ 𝚖̷𝚢̷ 𝚒̷𝚗̷𝚏̷𝚘̷, 𝚏̷𝚎̷𝚎̷𝚕̷ 𝚏̷𝚛̷𝚎̷𝚎̷ 𝚝̷𝚘̷ 𝙳̷𝙼̷ 𝚖̷𝚎̷ 𝚑̷𝚎̷𝚛̷𝚎̷ 𝚘̷𝚛̷ 𝚘̷𝚗̷ 𝚍̷𝚒̷𝚜̷𝚌̷𝚘̷𝚛̷𝚍̷ 𝚊̷𝚝̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚎̷ 𝚠̷𝚘̷𝚕̷𝚏̷ _𝚕̷𝚒̷𝚔̷𝚎̷_𝚕̷𝚊̷𝚖̷𝚋̷

[emivipers]

“I lied and said I was busy.

I was busy;

but not in a way most people understand.

I was busy taking deeper breaths.

I was busy silencing irrational thoughts.

I was busy calming a racing heart.

I was busy telling myself I am okay.

Sometimes, this is my busy -

and I will not apologize for it.”

- Brittin Oakman

- Artwork : Sivan.ka

[sheepmc]

Zhongli who just can't have enough of you

MDNI

Zhongli who eats you out while you sleep or fucking your thighs because how can he not

Zhongli who fucks you on every surface in the house claiming he wants you to make a mess on everything

Zhongli who uses his tail to hold you down and ruts into you harder

Zhongli who orders you to get off on his tail while he work

Zhongli who orders his slutty bratty cockwhore to play with yourself with the geo construct

Zhongli who manhandles you into a mean mating press while also giving your pussy a couple slaps for being so horny and wet for him

Zhongli who fucks his cum and eggs into you until you're mindless from pleasure

Zhongli who when riled up will fuck you until you're begging for forgiveness for riling him up

Zhongli who is only encouraged by your begging fucks you even harder, faster until you pass out only to be awaken by him still fucking your oversensitive body

Zhongli who cares for you after such an intense session together whispering sweet praises and words of love in your ear

Zhongli who prepares a bath and food for you to eat and recover even massaging your sore oversensitive body just don't mind him giving your pussy a few playful licks

Zhongli who makes sure you're well taken care of before drifting into the land of dreams with you embracing your body close to his

Zhongli who may or may not slip his cocks in your pussy in the middle of the night just to be even closer to you, to feel you and if you're up for it in the morning slow lazy cuddle fucking

@crystalflygeo @meimeimeirin @silentmoths @ainescribe @zhxngii @moraxsthrone

[queenie-the-court-jester]

Yandere farm x farmhand reader 🌾

A/n: this contains few nsfw mentions, mdni please! They're not all that yandere, just a bunch of dumb silly hybrids trying to catch their favorite humans attention. This is their intro

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙

★yandere farm x farmhand reader. I know this isn't original, but I always love the concept. Just minding your business, sweaty and hot from the sun, when suddenly a certain German Shepard hybrid starts sniffing you up and down, lapping up your sweaty skin and grinning when you swat him away. How did you end up here?

★maybe you came here for a summer job, maybe some relatives owned the farm, maybe you were always working here. Either way, it doesn't take long for the hybrids to notice you once you arrive.

★the bulls and cows watching curiously from the fields, the centaurs trying to peek from their stables, the merfolk living in the lake just down the property poke their little heads out. The dogs barking from their Little homes, and the cats watching from the windows. You couldn't help but gawk at the variety of hybrids, there were so many! Merfolk, avians, cattle, cats, dogs.

★your first week there was nice, the other farmhands were nice, and the owners were so sweet! Always speaking fondly of their pets, the old couple would watch them run in the field or play by the lake. You yourself found them a little annoying. Always sniffing, grabbing, nipping at your clothes. You've had to fight your overall bottoms free from one of the pooches one too many times. The cats were no better.

★your second week you meet the cattle and centaurs. And unlike the house cats and guard dogs, they're less handsy. Simply observing from afar. Occasionally sniffing you before nodding their heads and pulling away. Letting you do your job of combing, cleaning and fixing up them and their stables. The cattle would happily let you milk them, applying the breast pumps to the females and a cock pump to the males. You ignored how they looked at you strangely during milkings

★the third week you meet the avians. Odd little bunch, hopping around and puffing up their chests. They watched you enter their enclosure curiously, you were busy picking up their molten feathers because you thought they were pretty. So bright and colorful! Walking around bent over a little when you finally notice the peacock male standing right Infront of you. He gave you a pointed look before his tail feathers expanded. Looking prideful, tilting his chin up as if in an arrogant way. Swaying side to side and closer to you, while you just held the feathers in your hands, a little confused. He got closer until he let out an incredibly loud squawk. Turning around abruptly to glare at the cuckoo who bent down to poke his butt. The cuckoo gave you a grin before climbing back up the tree, using this time as distraction, you quickly escaped.

★on the fourth week, you meet the merfolk. Having been here a month, they were eager to meet you. Watching you walk on the dock with fish feed, eagerly Perking up and swimming closer. You shook out a good handful and chucked it out for the koi fish to eat. They swarmed the area until all the food was gone, simply staring up at you. One poked her head out, tilting it a bit and making a 'click' sound with her tongue. You mimicked her, doing the same. She seemed elated, making various whistles and clicks, splashing up and down the lake. The lake was manmade and filled with koi fish when it was finished, but then again there may be more fish not even the owners know about since it was so deep. How'd they get in there? You're not sure, but you just know it.

★on the fifth week your owners told you about how they had bought multiple sheep, and goats. One male for each group. Watching the loading truck approach the little barn they were finished building. So that's why it was there, they started construction when you arrived the first week. You helped the other farmhands get them situated, at first they were rowdy and a little aggressive but for some reason calmed down when you approached them. Your colleagues now called you the sheep whisperer. You quickly learned how to shave their wool and milk the goats properly. Sometimes braiding their long hair, you just wish the ram would stop headbutting the nearest male colleague for your attention.

★On your sixth week, you went for a walk in the forest when suddenly a little body of fluffy fur tackled you, growling with it's teeth barred. You looked up to see a Pomeranian hybrid, trying it's best to look intimidating. Their fluffy tail gave them away, it was wagging 100mph. They visibly deflated when you reached up a hand to pet them, letting you for A couple minutes before getting off. Walking back into the woods towards three wolves. Dissapearing with them. Not soon after you found a friendly garden naga. Just lounging on a rock and enjoying the sun. You asked to join and they let you, laying there for a good while until you had to go back to the farm. Noticing they had wrapped their tail around you, oh boy. It'll take a good while to get out. Welp, might as well make yourself comfortable and wait for the dogs to come find you

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

HYBRIDS AND THEIR NAMES:

Week one, cats and dogs;

Brutus, dog hybrid, 18, German Shepard, he/him

Dolly, dog hybrid, 26, doberman, she/her

bladviba, dog hybrid, 25, black Russian terrier, he/him

Molly, dog hybrid, 17, chow chow, she/her

Sweet pea, dog hybrid, 17, samoyed, they/them amab

bubba, dog hybrid, 37, borzoi, he/him

Princess, cat hybrid, 18, ragdoll, she/her

Prince, cat hybrid, 19, Norwegian forest cat, he/him

King, cat hybrid, 27, Khao manee, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Second week, cattle and centaurs;

Miss bené, cow hybrid, 49, white park cattle, she/her

Miss blackberry, cow hybrid, 22, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Miss Polly, cow hybrid, 26, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Miss frufru, cow hybrid, 28, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Miss Vivian, cow hybrid, 35, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Big daddy, bull hybrid, 52, Aberdeen Angus, he/him

Johnny, bull hybrid, 18, Aberdeen Angus/white park cattle, he/him

Jacqueline, centaur, 19, shire horse, she/her

Timothy, centaur, 21, galineers cob, he/him

maya, centaur, 17, fjord horse, they/them

Casper, centaur, 23, ardennais, he/him

miguel, centaur, 18, Andalusian horse, he/him

harmony, centaur, 25, Breton horse, they/them

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

third week, avians;

Sydney, avian, 22, cockatoo, they/he

Evangeline, avian, 19, peacock, she/her

Gabriel, avian, 20, peacock, he/him

fajarah, avian, 24, indian ring necked parakeet, she/her

Foolish, avian, 26, owl finch, he/him

simon, avian, 28, tyto alba, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Fourth week, merfok;

tancho, koi fish merfolk, 19, tancho koi, he/him

kiko, koi fish merfolk, 19, kikokuryu koi, she/her

hime, koi fish merfolk, 19, hirenaga koi, she/her

Tsu, koi fish merfolk, 19, doitsu koi, they/them

koromo, koi fish merfolk, 19, koromo koi, he/him

Mason, lake 'monster' (crocodile), 20, freshwater crocodile, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Fifth week, goats and sheep;

Sally, goat, 25, angora goat, she/her

Opal, goat, 24, Tennessee fainting goat, she/her

Sasha, goat, 26, australian cashmere goat, she/her

kim, ram, 23, dutch landrace goat, he/him

Poka, sheep, 19, Valais black nose, they/them

Juniper, sheep, Valais black nose, she/her

violet, sheep, 18, harri, she/her

azucar, sheep, 17, Columbia sheep, she/her

Wehrner, ram, 21, American black belly, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Sixth week, the forest creatures:

roxy, wolf hybrid, 19, grey wolf, she/her

Silas, wolf hybrid, 21, grey wolf, he/him

Milo, wolf hybrid, 20, albino Grey wolf, they/them

Kiki, dog hybrid, 18, Pomeranian, they/them

Coachella, naga, 27, garden snake, they/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

[agarafile]

Gem knows that saving the camel gives her no advantage in the game.

Actually, the camel is an active risk.

People go after what you value most, after all. Cleo thought she had done it, when she burned Gem's barn and watchtower. Jimmy used Lizzie to kill Joel and blew up The Car in a previous attempt.

Caring for things, caring for people... it made you vunerable. Made you weak.

Gem wasn't weak. Far from it.

But she still went out of her way to save the camel.

Gem's Camel, she wrote in the nametag. Not someone else's, not something she had to share. Hers.

The camel nuzzled her with its snout, almost as if it knew that if she didn't name it, it would die. Like it was grateful she claimed it for herself.

"You saved it?" Joel asked, when Gem guided the camel into her barn. Not outside, in the pen like the cows. Inside, where Gem herself lived "Of all things, you saved a camel?"

"I find camels delightful, Joel." she petted its neck, golden fur soft to her touch.

"I thought you would hate them. You know. After..." Joel trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

Gem understood what he was trying to say. She should hate them after Pearl, after the 2v1.

"Tango called it the Murder Camel 2.0." She offered instead.

"Of course he did." Joel rolled his eyes "Rumor has it you and Pearl rode together again."

"She got on my camel. Against my will, Joel." Gem scoffed "Not my fault she is obssessed with me."

Joel raised an eyebrow at her.

"And Pearl wasn't even the first one to ride the camel with me. It was Etho." Gem looked back at her camel and scratched behind its ears.

"Yeah, well. Camels are pretty much a you two thing, no?"

"Me and Pearl don't have a thing!"

"You might have to tell Pearl that, then." Joel teased, turning his head to the general direction of the Gs base, in the opposite side of the map "She seems awfully insistent on getting everyone on a camel and showing off to you."

Gem scowls and refuses to say anything back.

The thing is, its easy to look everyone in the eyes and proclaim she hates Pearl. So, so easy.

Especially because it is easier than admiting the truth. Saying she hates Pearl is easier than saying she misses her. That Gem still loves her, even after everything.

And isn't that just the worst? Loving someone down to red when they would throw all you thought you had when there are eyes on you?

Gem's camel shakes her hand off it, grunting. She hadn't realized it then, but her nails had been digging into its fur.

[canisalbus]

Yeah sorry I drew this.

Hope you feel better soon ♡

.

[ephie-om]

Sheep MC has taken over my brain lately. What do you mean there's an otome game where you live with the most powerful demons that have ever existed and also you're an adorable tiny fluffy pink sheep. You make them carry you everywhere and put you in a high chair at the dinner table because their prince told them they had to be nice to you. That's fucking hilarious.

[yayll]

~ a little something about you and Dazai working together... or at least trying to ~

"Hold still! God, you really need to be more careful, Dazai, I worr-"

He blinks, and tilts his head, his voice soft yet firm as you both sit on the agency's couch.

"Would you mind looking at me real quick?"

You glance up from disinfecting his wound, and hum.

"Mm, why?"

He sighs, and when he speaks his voice comes out dramatic yet tantalizing, the way he always makes it sound when he knows he's about to say something silly. Something you'll hopefully scold him for! Yum...

"Oh, no reason... Just wanted a little kiss before I inevitably die in your loving embrace~"

You roll your eyes and groan, it makes his stomach do flips. There it is, that adorable shade of pink he loves so much! It matches the one you had on in bed this morning, but that's too naughty to think about now... Dazai hears the way your voice is significantly less strict, and he knows he has you. When does he not?

"Not now, Dazai-"

He interrupts, pouting as he reaches over and twists a lock of your hair in between his slender fingers, twirling it mindlessly while you mend his wound. He gives you a melting expression as his eyes droop enough for you to have no choice but to notice his despair as he whines.

"Mmm, why do you always only call me Dazai when we're at work?"

You sigh as you gently finish dressing his wounds, the fresh bandage mingling with his older ones... He makes a mental note to have you change those later too.

Anything to keep your hands all over him. Desiring him. Always in sight, always on the mind.

"Because we're at work... we're professionals, remember?"

That silly little comment makes him scoff.

"Hmph. Well, everyone knows..."

"Know what?"

"That you and I kiss in the supply closet sometim-"

You fling yourself against his chest and clamp his mouth shut, cheeks burning redder than a tomato. He licks the inside of your palm, causing you to immediately yank your hand away with a small squeak. You can't hold back the way your lips curl into an embarrassed smile as you hiss, and it makes him almost froth at the mouth... Trying to relearn decency is hard when he's this close to you.

"Professionals, Dazai!"

"... We should kiss" He blurts out, face smug.

"No"

"But it huuurtssss!" He's desperate now, resorting to the lowest of the lows so you'll accomodate him against all wishes, not like he has any shame left. He dramatically points at his wrapped up wrist, and slumps back onto the couch as he deflates into deadweight.

Your face softens and you look down, sighing in resignation that your boyfriend might just be a total baby FREAK. His pupils turn into hearts when you speak to him in the way he wants you to.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Who are you referring to?"

"You..?"

He smirks devilishly, and shrugs, feigning ignorance as he looks off to the side, arms crossed. You slowly start to get it, and crack a smirk. You exhale, shaking your head as you give him what he covets for.

"... Where does it hurt, Osamu?"

There it is, the magic word. By the time you're done asking that he's already crawled ontop of you, cornering you on the small loveseat and caging you in between his slender frame. Dazai takes your hand in his, and intertwines your fingers together as he nuzzles your cheek with his nose. His voice is soft, gentle, and talks you through it, just how he did this morning.

"Mmm, I'm not sure anymore... Let's find out together"

Your breath hitches, and you become bashful under him. He looks at you with narrowed eyes, knowing what it does to you, but more importantly what it does to his sick little mind. Leave it to Dazai to turn playful banter into something that will surely leave the two of you a mess... Hopefully you a little more than him. You whisper, a little breathless.

"Oh, now you're just baiting me, huh..."

"Well if I'm bait, then you're biting."

He whispers back, as if sucking the very life force out of you with his eye contact alone. This is how he wins, how he secures heaven for himself every single day, selfishly. He's not hiding anything in his expressions. He wants you for him, and no one else.

You really never stood a chance.

[collecting-dustbunnies]

The longer I play Obey Me, the more I feel like Obey Me is a story about how the MC, in their quest to seek acceptance by the people they care about, ends up destroying themselves in the process and losing the very thing that made them so special and loved in the first place.

In the beginning of OG, they started off as just a normal human who got whisked away to a weird ass world where literally nobody respects them. Despite this, they recognised from the beginning that these demons and angels were not so different from humans. MC's ability to see the demons as actual people and not just beings controlled by their sins was what allowed them to form close bonds with them. They had good intentions to reunite the demon brothers who had undergone centuries of misunderstanding, resentment, and pent up grief. Even though they were excessively nosy, MC's unique position as a complete outsider allowed them to see just how much love the demon brothers had for each other, and how they can become closer if everybody would just better communicate with each other. Serving as the bridge to better improve the brothers' relationships was what convinced the demon brothers to also see MC as a member of their family.

But as the MC became more involved in the Devildom's problems, they started to adopt the same toxic traits that had created wedges between the brothers in the first place. From relying heavily on their pacts to subdue the brothers, to allowing a curse to control Barbatos (even though they had the ability to break it), to going along with the brothers' manipulative scheme to trick Satan into reconciling with Lucifer when Satan ran away to the human world -- it's almost like MC has unconsciously picked up on some of their loved ones' behaviour. Gone are the days where MC brings in a new perspective to problems. Now, they just embrace the chaos and their more darker traits, for that is what is expected of them to survive in the Devildom. And since everyone within their circle puts them on a pedestal, this further affirms to the MC that this is how they should be.

Dealing with the affairs of the Devildom had also caused the MC to grow more apathetic. In the beginning, they had been actively taking steps to form pacts with the brothers and were generally very invested in freeing Belphie from the attic. They remained true to themselves and insisted that they form a pact with Satan based on mutual trust and understanding, and not just as a means to smite Lucifer. Despite being in a helpless situation, MC never refused to give up their agency. But the longer MC gets involved with these shenanigans, the more they grew... numb to everything.

Solomon bringing me back to the Devildom unannounced? Oh, sure. Diavolo and Solomon hiding the reasons for my sudden return? Not my problem.

Simeon facing a problem to the point of having a quarter of the cast acting as his bodyguards? Eh, I'll just ignore it until I can't anymore.

Watching and waiting. That's what they have resorted to doing.

And that mindset of kicking problems down the line until it lands on MC's doorstep and they have no choice but to act -- that's exactly how they have been acting when they were stuck in NB, hasn't it? MC didn't bother forming pacts with the past version of the brothers until they were given an ultimatum, and even then, they simply relied on the convenient timing of each brother struggling with an inner crisis to swoop in, resolve the situation and tick them off their checklist.

MC in NB seems like an unfortunate culmination of everything they faced so far. They're too apathetic to care about getting sent to an unfamiliar place once again, too desensitised to life in the Devildom to reclaim their agency, and too desperate to earn the love of their former family to even think about anything else. They became so co-dependent to the demon brothers that they seem to think they cannot live without them or their affection, even if the ones they are living with in the past are different people from the ones they grew to love in the present.

The phrase "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain" fits way too perfectly for the Obey Me MC. After all, MC keeps getting rewarded every time they try to get themselves killed (or even when they actually got killed). Maybe that's the only way they know how to resolve problems.

So if they can't die as the hero, they'll just learn to live as the villain.

[quarterlifekitty]

Cw: hybrids, blood, mentions of getting sheared lol. I included a picture of an animal with blood on it, but the animal is NOT injured.

Ngl I’ve been really into @moondirti ‘s sheep girl AU and I just remembered the existence of anti-wolf collars and uhhhhhh…. Thinking about a hybrid AU where sheep!reader is in a flock guarded by Pyrenees!König. This could work with so many of them, but I thought of him first.

He wears the traditional collar to defend him from wolves. He fights them off to keep you safe. You were the runt of your lambkin, back when he was still just being trained, and he bonded to you right away.

He follows you everywhere. Chases you anywhere. Hates that he gets worried sick when you curiously wander off.

He’s ended the lives of more predators than he can count. He tries his best not to do it in front of you. But you’ve seen it once or twice. He’s come sprinting when you’ve bleated out for him— a ways from the rest of the flock and being advanced upon by a lone wolf. It tried to tear him apart by the neck, but the collar protected him. You were found by the Shepard, pressed close to his body while his fur dripped with still-warm blood.

His heart and cock ache at the sight of you. He knows he isn’t supposed to feel this way— sheep and their guard dog often bond very closely, but not as close as you have. Despite your size, you’re a very pretty, prized thing. Your wool grows quick and full, the crimping dense and curly, with a lustrous sheen. (Uhm not to be size kink on main but maybe she’s a babydoll sheep heeheehee). You’re not just common stock— the owners will want you bred and full of lambs of your own come spring. They’ll pick out their best ram— maybe even one from another ranch�� just for you. He can already see how the rams in the flock nuzzle and huff at you affectionately— a preamble to how they’ll lock horns over you once the breeding season starts proper. König puzzlingly replicates some of this behavior, maybe even unconsciously— he just yearns so deeply to be close to you.

He watches with great interest when you’re sheared. Your lanolin stems your bleeding before it can begin when you get nicked, but he licks the wound anyways. Keeps you curled with him when the wind is blowing fierce in the valley and you don’t have the wool to keep you warm.

He struggles deeply with his sense of duty. You’re a thing of value to the humans. He was born to keep you pristine and safe so they could do with you as they pleased. But he can see and hear— the way you wrinkle your nose and bleat with discomfort when being crowded by the rams. You never do that with him.

He’s only ever known loyalty. He was given a purpose from the moment he could stand a bark, and it isn’t something he takes lightly. But he’s starting to think he’d throw it all away if you only wanted him to.

There’s something about you that makes him wish more than anything that he’d been born a selfish, greedy beast instead of a noble one.

[sheepibum]

remember me (but forget my fate)

Summary:

When I am laid in earth, may my wrongs create No trouble in thy breast. Remember me, but ah! forget my fate. Henry Purcell, Dido and Aeneas

Kim Rok Soo’s life was so mired in misery that he didn’t question the deal he was offered upon his death, of a life in another world. He should have, though. He really should have. That god should at least have warned him that his supposed better life would only come after many failed attempts.

Kim Rok Soo was his first life. Korea. An orphan. The Apocalypse; Team Leader Lee and Choi Jung Soo. Loss and loss and loss and loss, until the only thing left to lose was his life and that was snuffed out soon enough.

Okay, look--I wrote a good chunk of a fairy tale retelling, and then a little bit of another, different fantasy-folk tale thing, and I finished a whole minific in which KRS!Cale is a rat beastman, but I was too embarrassed to post that one, so you get angst.

Sorry. (￣┰￣*)ゞ

Also, my OTP is rokcale bc that is exactly what I mean by 'you should love yourself more', and now I'm going to make that everyone's problem.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

A Very Merry Tsum-mas (Part One)

Happy holidays everyone! ♡ Here's a cute and silly tsum fic I wanted to write, featuring some of my friend's favorite characters (and mine lol ♡) Enjoy! ♡

Winter was here on Sage's Island, the sky cloudy as snow began to fall. It was the first snow of the season, slowly covering Night Raven College in a blanket of white. Students counted down the days until winter break, looking forward to going home. While the holidays were fast approaching, Night Raven didn't seem to be in the holiday spirit, no lights or decorations hung on campus. Not even a tree, the courtyard an empty field of snow...

One day before winter break, a giant plush tree falls from the sky, landing in the courtyard. The tree is decorated in holiday lights and plush ornaments, with a toy star sitting on top. Under the tree were gifts, wrapped in cute paper representing each dorm. What were the gifts, you ask? Why, they were tsums! Dressed in winter clothes and ready to spread some holiday joy ♡

Since there wasn't enough gifts for everyone, Azul tsum had the bright idea to make it an auction, giving the lucky students of Night Raven the opportunity to bid on each one! The bidding will start at ten thaumarks, with the first gift being wrapped in... Noble Bell College themed paper...?

Let the auction begin! ♡

AUCTION ONE: ROLLO TSUM

Inside the gift wrapped in Noble Bell College themed paper lays Rollo tsum, nestled in a bundle of flowers. The tsum wasn't sure how he got here, wrapped up and auctioned at some event at NRC. The same auction that Malleus Draconia tsum was apart of, at that... At least you had won though, the tsum making his displeasure of the others known as he leaves.

Time spent with him will be in Fleur City, visiting the holiday market. The market has various vendors, selling different foods and trinkets from all around Twisted Wonderland. Once it grows dark, the tsum takes you on a walk, showing you the lights on display.

His gift to you is a flower, one that reminds him of you whenever he sees it. He gives you clear instructions on how to care for it, as well as a pot to put it in. The pot is beautifully made, created by one of the many craftsman in Fleur City. It's even your favorite color, the tsum picking it out with you in mind.

The rest of your time is spent with the real Rollo, his tsum having duties he needed to attend to. You couldn't help but wonder though... could this be another gift from him? ♡

AUCTION TWO: JAMIL TSUM

The second auction featured a gift wrapped in Scarabia themed paper, Jamil tsum sitting inside it. He gives Azul tsum an unamused look as he gets out of the festive tissue paper, tipping over the box in his haste. While he doesn't approve of the auction, he was thankful that you won, silently looking forward to spending the holidays together.

Time spent with him will be in the Scalding Sands, visiting his family in Silk City. Najma tsum greets you when you get there, leading you to the Asim estate (where a holiday party is being held). The party is grand, filled with various foods and games. A dance floor sits at the center, with a large tree tucked in the corner, filled to the brim with gifts.

While Kalim tsum was there, your focus was on Jamil tsum, staying by his side the whole night. You had fun trying different foods he would recommend, competing with him at various games, and laughing with him on the dance floor. Time flew by as you had fun, the night ending with guests exchanging gifts.

His gift to you is hair accessories, similar to his own. Hair ties, hair bands, feather clips, and more. Each of them was handmade and beautifully crafted, with one of them even having a snake made out of gems on it. It reminded you so much of the real Jamil, running into him as you were leaving.

He seemed as surprised as you were, looking at his tsum with suspicion as the tsum gestured for him to look up. He looks and stares in disbelief before glaring back at his tsum, silently wondering if this was the emergency Kalim was talking about...

...And where did this mistletoe come from?! ♡

AUCTION THREE: ...AZUL TSUM?

The third auction featured a gift wrapped in Octavinelle themed paper, opening it to find... a piece of paper? Azul tsum seemed surprised by this, joining you as you stared in confusion. Opening the paper you found Azul tsum's name written on it, the tsum looking between you and the piece of paper in shock. Muffled laughter could be heard as some of the gifts began to shake, Azul tsum turning in it's direction. His eyes narrowed as he stared under the tree, the shaking gifts clearly Floyd and Jade tsum, amused by the situation...

This wasn't supposed to happen! He has an event to run, after all! But rules are rules, and you won the bid, so he has to honor it... Azul tsum shakes his head as he gets back to where he was, having you stay by his side until all the auctions were done.

Time spent with him will be in the Mostro Lounge, alongside Jade and Floyd tsum. While the others left for winter break, they remained at NRC, unable to return home due to frozen waters. He catches up on his business, planning out new items and marketing strategies with your input. He has you try foods he was considering for the menu, wanting your opinion on each dish (and having Floyd tsum prepare them).

Not all your time is spent in the Lounge though, Azul tsum taking you to different cafes and restaurants in town (to scope out the competition). While you're in town, he realizes he's been focusing too much on work and not on you, bringing you to a holiday market set up nearby. He paid close attention to the items that caught your eye, keeping them in mind to purchase later. At the market you notice an antique pen, thinking how the real Azul would enjoy it. You purchase it to give to him for the holidays, leaving with a few more gifts in hand for the real Jade and Floyd.

Azul tsum gifts you the items you liked at the market, along with a necklace, made of sea shells and fish bones. The necklace was beautifully crafted, with each shell and bone being a different size. Each item on the necklace was found in the Coral Sea and selected with care, custom made (just for you).

The real Azul was shocked to see you wearing it the next day, wondering how you got a hold of his gift so soon (and if you knew what it meant...) ♡

Part two will be coming tomorrow! ♡

Thank you! ♡

Tagging: @crystallizsch, @anbaisai, @cheerleaderman, @viperbunnies, @0honeybones0

@fell-e, @jovieinramshackle, @oya-oya-okay

[kedsandtubesocks]

seasons of you (year 1 - spring)

Farmer!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: it’s your very first spring living in the valley & you’re very sure Joel Miller already wants you leave

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a new farmer & has a family but no physical description, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s) very light use of gendered language, handyman & farmer!Joel, grumpy!Joel, wound tending & blood imagery, discussion of family loss with light navigation of grief, Ellie being Joel’s daughter, secret softie!Joel, alcohol consumption mention, use of nickname, budding romance

word count: 5.4k

a/n: our first ‘Joel’ fic for our stardew AU series! Here’s to starting this new aventure with y’all! I couldn’t have the strength to post this without @swiftispunk @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy @burntheedges @perotovar you angels don’t know how much I appreciate y’all and am so grateful for you babes…and to you, if you read this - I’m so thankful for you too ♡

No one in Pelican Town hates you more than Joel Miller does. George, the crabby older elderly man in town, might be a close second, but Joel has him beat by miles.

For someone so incredibly handsome, almost beautiful in a rugged wilderness way with his misty mountain gray hair and sharp lovely nose, his glare could wither your entire family farm’s field.

“He’s just an ass sometimes.” Your Dad had told you with a sigh over the phone. “Been that way even when your gramps was around.”

At first you didn’t want to fully admit it but yeah, Joel is a prickly cactus of a man.

He owns a farm further down the path from yours. You love walking by it when you take the long way home and getting to spot all the sheep roaming around his fields. He’s also the town’s handyman.

“A jack of all trades, more like it.” Pierre, the main store owner, snickered that to you while Joel was in the store fixing a light fixture.

After that Joel helped you set up your first fencing gate. Then he fixed your sink. And then your water heater.

It’s been a lot and you know it. You feel guilty at how bad you can’t seem to get a hang of this new life yet. Your grandpa did it, thrived even. You can too, or you hope you can.

Until Joel glares at you like you’re a bug ready to squash, then you feel incredibly small.

Once you physically and accidentally ran into him walking out of the blacksmith’s shop when he was heading in. You sputtered out an apology, but without a single word Joel walked past you as if you weren’t even worth his time.

One night you went to the town’s saloon hoping to maybe mingle and get to know everyone better. But simply seeing him sitting inside made you turn on your heels and scramble out.

From that point on you’ve been avoiding him.

But now unfortunately, a few paces away from Joel Miller’s farm, your hand bleeds out a bit aggressively.

“Shit.” You hiss, slipping off your backpack to search for your mini first aid kit.

Yesterday you stubbornly tried fixing your fence and accidentally scrapped your hand pretty bad against the wood. Earlier you believed you wrapped it good enough but now the blood soaking through the bandaid mocks you.

“You alright?!”

The sharp accented drawl rings out loud in the early morning and fear collides into you.

Of course Joel hadn’t left for the morning.

You yell back that you’re fine but scramble frantic now trying to find the damn first aid kit.

“Is that blood?” Joel snaps, sounding closer, as his boots rush against the dirt.

“No, I spilled paint.” You grumble to yourself annoyed.

“M’old but I fuckin’ heard that.” Damn.

He’s much closer now, so close his shadow falls over you but you refuse to look at him.

“What happened!?” He barks confused.

Sighing, you give up hope on finding the poor elusive first aid kit.

“Just cut my hand, that's all. It isn’t deep. I’m fine.” You reassure him.

Joel sighs angrily.

“Come on.”

Now you turn and discover his soil eyes stare at you with such a steeled intensity you almost want to scurry away.

“Fixin’ this up inside.” He doesn’t even ask or let you leave. With one yank Joel Miller pulls you towards his farmhouse.

“I’m fine.” You snap back.

“What? Just wanna let it bleed ‘n get everywhere?” An edge in Joel’s voice silences you.

Any argument you wanted to hiss out immediately floats away the moment you cross the threshold into his house. Your eyes go wide. You never once thought you’d ever see the inside of Joel Miller’s place.

It’s larger than your grandpa's.

Joel deposits you into his kitchen. The lingering smell of breakfast, possibly oatmeal with its warm cinnamon notes, hangs in the air. Yet you feel like a caught feral cat that doesn’t know how to react being inside a house for the first time.

So you let your eyes wander.

Beautiful wood cupboards line the walls. A fridge is covered with various papers held up by sweet colorful cartoonish magnets you never would’ve expected from him. A worn cozy, well loved, couch peeks out from the slight view of the living room you spot being inside the kitchen.

Joel’s house seems knitted together by a rustic weathered comfort. Yet, there’s a hollowness to the house, like it’s waiting for more spirit to fill the halls. You can’t pinpoint or describe the stillness here in this place, but you sense it.

After rustling around a drawer, Joel yanks out a rather impressive medical kit. Largely bulky and intimidating, like him, it’s no surprise a handyman and farmer has such a first aid kit.

“How’d it happen?” Joel asks gruff and quiet as he rummages around the bag.

You tell him and his seasoned face scrunches up frustrated.

“Why didn’t ya call and have me go fix it?”

You thought about that. But you couldn’t handle the thought of asking him to help again, to deal with his frustrated sighs and gruff annoyance. He barely said a word to you last weekend when he went to check your sink again.

“Don’t need you to fix everything.” You tell him composed while Joel pulls out various things to wrap your wound.

“Besides, I can fix things on my own.” You add firm.

“Not all the time.” He replies.

You stay quiet and watch his hands, large and callous, gingerly dab away all the crimson from your cut.

He’s never been this close to you. You catch the faintest smell of wood and of something clean crisp, his laundry detergent maybe. It threatens to fog your senses knowing he smells this lovely.

“Y’dont ask for help and shit like this happens.”

Your face hardens at Joel’s words. You even childishly want to yank away your hand and storm off.

“Look I get it, you barely tolerate me and think I can’t do shit. I know I’m still new, but this was an accident. It happens.” Your words come out harsher than you intended, sharpened scythes that cut through the room, and Joel freezes.

“I don’t think that.” He replies clear as a spring blue sky.

You want to bark a laugh of disbelief, but instead you simply stay silent.

Joel sighs, keeping his eyes on the medic tape he readies.

“And I… tolerate you.” He sputters like he’s trying to muster the words out.

A moment passes. Then Joel sighs, ancient and heavy.

“Don’t mind me. M’just some grumpy old fuck-”

“Hey you’re not old. You’re just grumpy.” You interrupt trying to ease the mood and your heart jumps hearing him snort.

“M’old.” He clarifies. He is older, older than you, and that fact creates a strange flutter in your chest you don’t want to explore just yet.

“And…don’t want ya feelin’ like shit.” He continues with a curt softness.

You never knew his voice could sound this layered, so tough but tender.

“Just tryin’ to look out for ya like your gramps asked me too.”

There’s a strange apology shaded in his words but you manage to catch it. A rush of emotions drown you in their current.

“You were close with my grandpa.” You comment with a curious question lingering below the surface.

“Yeah,” Joel answers low now tenderly moving to wrap your hand. “His ol’ ass used to keep me in place.”

You smirk fondly. That sounds like your gramps.

“Miss seein’ him walk by this place and hearin’ him complain that he likes the sheep more than me.”

Joel’s fond and aching voice digs its hooks into your soul. You miss gramps too, so much.

“Used to fish a lot together out by the lake.” He adds.

This is the most Joel Miller has ever spoken to you and you worry the sun might fall out of the sky soon.

“I bet he out fished you.” You tease soft.

Joel snorts. “Damn right he did.”

You can almost picture it clearly, your gramps and Joel laughing together, having a friendship.

“He’d be proud of ya.” Joel mutters but his words chime clear.

Your attention flickers to Joel. He keeps his focus steady on your hand. However his words crystallize deep in your heart and you blink away tears. You ever expected Joel Miller to almost make you cry like this.

“Thanks…means a lot.” You truthfully tell him while you swallow back the heartache and love threatening to spill over.

“He’d also say you’re a fuckin’ stubborn thing for not askin’ for help.”

You snort at that.

“Well you knew the old guy, it runs in the family.” You reply.

Joel chuckles.

It’s small - like the faint flash of seeing a cardinal in the trees. But you heard it, his amusement, and it’s lovely for a man quietly layered as him.

“Alright, all fixed up.”

The wrap is tight, secure, and speaks of his many times previously doing this before.

“Thank you Joel, appreciate it.” You do.

“Can't be a handyman if I can’t fix up people sometimes.” He shrugs but there’s a deadpan charm to his words you’re slowly catching now.

“Doctor and a handyman, no wonder the town keeps you around.” So you dryly joke back.

This moment isn’t much. Yet it feels like gaining a good step in the direction of something right and solid.

Gathering your things, you decide to head out. Even though curiosity claws at you to take in a few more moments being inside Joel Miller’s home, you have seeds to buy.

“Where ya headin’’ to?” Joel asks.

“Pierre’s.” You huff. “Need more parsnips.”

He hums a noise of acknowledgment.

Back outside the mid morning sun’s warmth soaks you in its gaze. Maybe you could fish for a bit before you head to the store. After all, the weather is so nice.

“Hey.” Joel barks out and before heading back on the road, you turn to him.

He’s a sight on his porch. You think of the typical romance movies of the handsome farmer trying to woo the newcomer in town and how right now he puts them all to shame.

Hands crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders seem like mountains against the doorway, so striking and large taking up the entire focus.

“Don’t hesitate to call y’hear? Don’t fuckin’ care what it is or what it’s for, call me.” Joel’s face is hardened and serious, reflecting the unwavering tone in his voice.

Something heated crawls up your throat and makes you dizzy. You blame it on the blood loss.

“Besides, s’what neighbors are for, right?” He adds a bit awkwardly.

It hits you. He’s the closest homestead to you. You are neighbors with him.

“Alright will do, promise.” You nod and mean your words.

“Thanks again neighbor.” Those words tingle on your lips.

Joel nods and with that you head out.

You’re on such a strange high you simply float straight to the pier and fish. It’s comforting being among the crashing waves, the sea breeze, and the wonderful weather. You also think of your gramps and Joel here.

But by the time the sky starts to turn into a ripe tangerine you realize in horror you forget to buy more seeds.

You almost scream in anguish when you find Pierre’s doors locked. Accepting momentary defeat, you head home.

When you reach your porch, there against the steps a bundle of parsnip seeds and a small pack of bandaids sit waiting for you.

- ☼ -

Your hope to quietly enjoy the egg festival, your true first event here in the valley, is diminished when Mayor Lewis practically drags you into the egg hunt saying it’s a rite of passage.

His deadly polite politician smile said there was no way you could worm your way out of participating. So you simply start the hunt thinking of the strawberry seeds you can’t wait to plant once this is over.

You’re not overly competitive, but these eggs are getting harder to find. You want to finish at least with some dignity.

Besides the area around Stardrop Saloon you scan every inch like a hawk. Someone coughs, clearing their throat, and it catches your attention.

Under the shade of the building, nursing a cold drink, Joel slightly turns towards you.

Now instead of a hawk you feel like a surprised field mouse caught in his gaze.

Without saying anything Joel flickers his eyes a couple of times towards the corner of the building. Is he giving you a hint?

Heading to the spot his eyes vaguely guided you to, you discover a colorful egg.

You almost want to keep it as proof this happened. Joel helped you.

By the time the egg hunt ends everyone already seems to be packing up and the mysterious Mr. Miller has vanished from the commotion.

Abigail wins the egg hunt and you aren’t even upset. In fact you walk home feeling like a champion.

The next morning on the help wanted and errands bulletin board in town you spot Joel’s name. Below it is a request asking for a small pack of wood.

You readily answer it and drop off the bundle eagerly, a way to help pay him back for everything.

The pretty decent payment he gives you is nice but the crooked soft hint of a grin on his face when you arrive to deliver the request is worth iridium.

A few days after that he mails you a recipe. The letter is so simply Joel - a straightforward recipe then a scribbled JM below it. You hang the letter up proudly on your fridge.

Spring blooms more and more before your eyes.

You decide to take advantage of it by foraging for the day.

“Where y’heading?”

You’ve been taking the long way to the forest these past few weeks in hopes of seeing him again. Now that you’re not actively avoiding him, you discover, small town or not, Joel is a surprisingly busy man.

When you catch glimpses of him, instead of glares being thrown your way, Joel Miller simply nods acknowledging you. Comforting as it is to know he doesn’t outright detest, you don’t like how much you hope to run into him more.

Now he’s here sliding on his backpack while moving to lock his gate.

“Just heading to the forest, gonna forage and walk around for the day.” You answer him.

“Works out, hafta head that way myself.” Joel explains falling into step besides you.

Alone with Joel Miller once again.

The small talk comes - asking each other how your days have been, anything new or interesting happening. The heat is starting to pick up announcing summer’s close arrival. Thankfully it’s still not unbearably hot as you and him fully enter the woods.

Cindersap forest is tranquil. A beautiful glimmering evergreen haven you enjoy simply strolling through. You never thought you’d ever be here with Joel.

“No new crops coming in?”

“Nothing exciting.” You shrug. “I’m more upset that I didn't plant any tulips this season.”

“Those your favorite?” Joel asks, surprisingly curious.

“Not mine, my gramps.” Your memories of the farm might be hazy, but you always remembered fresh tulips in the kitchen.

“They’re for the fairies.” Gramps would tell you with a wink.

You were bummed after realizing Pierre had flower seeds and it was too late to see them bloom in your kitchen.

“Damn,” Joel sighs. “Ain't your fault. Pierre’s an ass and hides all the good shit, flower seeds included.”

You’re almost positive Pierre doesn’t do that, but you burst out laughing.

A giddy twinkling glee consumes you and fills you buoyant. He’s trying to comfort you in his own Joel way. And it’s dangerous how fast you’re growing to enjoy the company of this grumpy cactus of a man.

You move to snag a few dandelions and wild horseradishes. You make a face at one that smells a bit ripe and decide to leave it for the forest.

“You can eat those y’know.” Joel comments.

“Yeah so I’ve heard.” You tried your first ever daffodil this month. “A wild horseradish might be a bit too much right now though, but who knows. Maybe one day I’ll try ‘em.”

“My kid used to eat these all the damn time. Never took a likin’ to ‘em myself.” Joel grumbles kicking the disposed horseradish.

Kid.

“You have a kid?” You ask curiously.

Joel blinks to you and there’s a gleam in his earth eyes of something reserved slowly revealing itself.

“Uh… yeah. A daughter. Ellie.”

A daughter. He’s a dad.

It fits him in a way that you never would have expected.

“She doesn’t live here?” You ask but then quickly apologize for pressing the subject. Joel waves you off, casual and unbothered.

“She did, just graduated highschool this year. Wanted to do the whole college deal. She lives out west now.”

So he’s an empty nester.

Delicately, wanting to know more about him and his daughter, you ask about her.

Joel inhales deep then exhales slowly, as if an immovable weight on his shoulders rattles deep to his bones.

“She’s a headache, my Ellie.” Fondness trickles out of Joel a steady stream.

“Stubborn, damn near impossible to argue with cause she’s so fuckin’ smart. Got a good heart. Good head on her shoulders too, wants to be an astronaut.”

“An astronaut?! That’s incredible!” You exclaim in brilliant excitement.

Like the proud dad he is, adoration tugs at Joel’s lips.

“Yeah, been wantin’ to be one for years. That’s why she’s going to school.”

“She sounds incredible, Joel. You must be proud.” You earnestly tell him.

“I am…” His voice is thick, and you don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over distant and misty.

You decide not to press the subject any further. He instead does it for you.

“She loved livin’ here until the damn flower festival rolled around. Then she’d swear up ‘n down about how much she hated this town and was gonna leave the second she could.”

The flower festival is just days away. The town swirls in a controlled chaos for its arrival.

You laugh warm. “I’m guessing she’s not a fan of dancing.”

“Takes after me.” Joel nods.

“Ahh…so guess that means you’re not asking anyone to dance this year.” You comment lightly and Joel snorts.

“Ain’t danced with anyone in a very long time.”

A wistful ace now twists your heart thinking of Joel alone in his home, alone watching the others in town pair off.

“You gonna ask anyone?” Joel turns the question around to you and you almost choke on an inhale.

Not wanting to get flustered or react wildly you focus on the wild springs among the lush forest.

“Uh no. Don’t think anyone wants to dance with the newbie in town. Which is fine.” You answer.

There are lovely and gorgeous people in town. Some have caught your eye. However, you didn’t feel brave or interested enough to ask anyone to dance. And no one seemed intended to ask for your hand in the dance, and you find you’re not too upset about that.

Joel hums low, a sign you’re catching on means he’s listening without having to reply much.

“Hopin’ someone will ask ya to dance?” That question takes you by surprise.

You shrug not wanting to fully answer the question either.

Someone suddenly calls out to Joel from behind. At the edge of the forest leading back into town stands Maria, the town’s legal counsel and assistant mayor.

“Caught playing hooky, busted.” You snicker and Joel scoffs.

Maria yells out Joel’s name again.

“Can you come back to town and help us with something? Thought you’d be at home seeing how it’s your day off today. I’ve been trying to call ya but nothing went through.” She yells.

The service here in the forest was awful compared to the town, a hard lesson you’ve learned quickly.

But you also don’t miss Maria’s comment.

Joel had today off. Yet he decided to stay a bit with you. That thought has teeth and you can’t stop their bite from sinking into your heart.

Joel groans but doesn't hesitate to head towards where the assistant mayor stands. Maria of course spots you and a wonderful grin lights up lovely her face.

“It’s good to see you.” She calls out.

“You too!” You reply back thankful your voice is level.

Joel glances over his shoulder to catch your eye.

“Good luck foragin’. Don’t eat any weird shit.”

You sputter out a squawk at his casual comment.

“Next time I see you, I’m giving you a wild horseradish!” You playfully snap the ridiculous reply before you can even stop yourself, but Joel thankfully rolls his eyes unbothered.

Maria’s eyes however flicker curiously between you and Joel. Too many emotions heat up your skin now. So bidding Joel and Maria a quick goodbye you stomp back into the forest to continue foraging.

Now along in the woods, your thoughts still think of Joel. The bag of parsnip seeds, the bandages, and the recipe, come to mind. You never once discussed any of it with him or him with you. It’s something you keep locked in your heart, just like today will be.

Soon the day melts into early twilight. You snag a couple of dandelions and a few other forageables before deciding to head home.

Joel’s farm house looms quietly still with no lights. You can’t bring yourself to open the gate to his farm and walk up to the house.

So instead you place a few dandelions along with a nice fresh large wild horseradish on top of the mailbox by his gate then head home.

Even when you unwind for the night, you mind still feels like it’s snagged on Joel Miller, still there with him foraging in the forest.

- ☼ -

The flower dance, as strange of a custom as it is, is rather ethereal. So many vivid floral arrangements decorate the space with dynamic colors and the air even smells fresh.

The flower dance honors the legacy of celebrating the final days of spring. But it also is a celebration of love blooming.

“It has roots dating back to fertility rituals.” Demetrius, ever the town scientist, told you while you were chatting with him and his wife.

He was right of course. The flower dance is the opportunity for someone to extend a hand of romantic feelings towards another. Those who hope to participate in the couples dance, or possibly win the crown of Flower Queen, are dressed in glorious attire. Soft light fabrics and flowers woven into crowns create a scene conjured out of a fairy’s kingdom.

Compared to the others in lovely attire with flowers in their hair, you didn’t even dress up or change out of your messy dirt covered jeans. And the only flowers in your hair are actually twigs and leaves from cleaning up more of your property.

With no need to worry about someone asking you to dance, you instead simply enjoy the various foods prepared for the occasion.

“Be careful, the salsa actually has a pretty good kick.” You’re about to go in for a second helping when a gentle accented voice floats out to you.

Besides you is a man with the kindest eyes you’ve seen. Faintly you recognize his face and can recall seeing him around town.

“Tommy Miller.” He reintroduces himself seeing your slight hesitation and your eyes go big.

“Oh, Maria’s husband!” You fully remember her introducing him to you. But now something else clicks.

He’s Joel’s brother.

“Yup.” He grins proud at his wife’s mention.

You apologize profusely for not remembering him sooner and with a kind understanding smile Tommy reassures you it’s fine.

“Been a busy first month for ya, I get it. You’re a tough cookie handlin’ it all.”

Even though his twang mirrors his brother’s, Tommy already radiates a much different energy than Joel. He’s warm in a way that reminds you of a soft summer day welcoming everyone with his vibrant energy.

You thank him earnestly. “The town’s been good to me.”

A part of you wants to add Joel has been good to you. Weeks ago, you would’ve laughed at just the idea of Joel Miller showing you an emotion other than annoyance. But now you and him seem to slowly be warming up to each other.

“Don’t go stealin’ all the good stuff, y’little shit.” Joel arrives with a gruff grumble of a voice and quickly nudges Tommy.

Yet his eyes remained glued on you.

You also seem to notice how striking Joel looks in the crisp light jean button up shirt he wears.

“Speak of the devil… was just about to ask our new farmer here if ya haven’t scared her away yet.” Tommy jokes.

Joel’s face flickers with a scowl fighting to form but he keeps himself surprisingly composed.

Guilt sinks in your gut. You know he’s hard to read and you even feel bad for thinking he’s mean. Because you’re learning fast Joel is earnest in his own way.

“Nah,” you tell Tommy, answering for yourself and Joel almost. “His sheep are actually scarier than he is.”

Tommy busts out laughing and you grin. Your eyes flicker to Joel but see he isn’t grinning. Instead Joel’s handsome aged face stares at you guarded and you can’t read the emotions shimmering in his eyes.

Shit.

You might have overstepped and upset him. So to physically stop yourself from saying anything else you take a bite out of the delicious cornbread on your plate, wave a weak goodbye to the Miller brothers, and scurry away.

Now alone under the shadow of one of the lovely cherry trees, you’re aware of how new you still are, a fresh bud still trying to foster roots in this new ground. You wonder how your gramps dealt with this every year.

Soon enough, the music starts and Mayor Lewis claps excited ready to begin the dance.

At least this will be over soon.

The couples slowly sway to the soft melody then rustling arrives at your side. Gently your eyes turn to the source and you almost collapse seeing Joel move in besides you.

His eyes though stay on the couples dancing among the blooms.

“Could’ve at least picked better music to dance to.” He mumbles bored.

Your lips press hard trying not to smile ridiculous and wide.

“Could you imagine if someone played the wrong song?” You whisper back. “Like, some heavy metal rock song suddenly started screaming out?”

Joel snorts, masks it with a few coughs, but you did it. You made him laugh.

Golden soaked triumph fills you and it feels like the first morning you woke up and found a sprout peeking up from the dark tilled soil.

He’s a complex man and you’re barely even scratching the surface of him. But it’s a tender start you want to continue kindling.

For all the commotion and production given to the festival, the dance only lasts a few moments. It’s over thankfully fast.

“Bit anticlimactic.” You mutter under your breath.

“Yeah it’s dumb.” Joel deadpans.

Your lips fight from letting out a laugh.

Everyone claps joyously at the couples concluding their dance. You wonder, even as silly as this is, if one day maybe you’ll dance with flowers in your hair. But you don’t give that thought too much attention. Just imaging yourself next spring already seems so far away.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at the gorgeous meadow.

“I’m kind of tempted to maybe see if I can steal some of the leftovers but yeah, I’m heading back.” You reply.

“Tell me which food you’re eyein’ and I’ll grab it. No one will tell me no.” He offers and you laugh.

“Tempting as that is, I’m just gonna go home.” You wish Joel a warm good night.

He continues walking alongside you.

Your heart jumps until you realize he lives in the same direction. The chatter from the festival still lingers in the air even while you walk further away from the meadow.

“How do you deal with that every year?” You ask with a sigh.

“Alcohol.” Joel dully answers and you snicker at his reply.

“Maybe one day you’ll be dancin’ out there.” Joel comments like he’s trying to continue the small talk. But the suggestion makes you skin itch for a reason you can’t pinpoint.

You only reply with a simple ‘maybe’ and a shrug.

“I’d pay a hundred bucks to see you dance though.” You joke, but also quickly imagine Joel a picture of softness with a flower behind his ear resting beautifully among his silver curls and it makes your knees weak.

Joel however rolls his eyes.

“Next year we’ll just sneak in and take over the music. See what happens.” You offer.

“Now that sounds like a plan.” Joel agrees gruffly.

It sounds like a promise.

You bid him good night until his eyebrows crinkle so classily grumpy Joel.

“Whadya doin’? Ain’t lettin�� ya walk home alone, sprout. Now come on.”

He continues walking as if nothing while your mind tries to recover being tilted on its axis for a bit.

Joel is walking you home.

And he called you sprout.

You want to cradle this new nickname so tenderly in your hands.

Joel quietly asks about your plans for the upcoming season, almost as if he’s trying to keep you focused.

To settle your flutter heart, you manage to ramble about the new incoming seeds you’ve heard about. You talk about your hopes of going to the beach more, not just to fish but to simply enjoy the ocean.

Among all that discussion, in a blink you’re back at your farm.

Instead of Joel rushing home, he lingers.

He checks your porch almost like he’s making sure the thing still stands.

“Hope one day to see that dang greenhouse up ‘n runnin.” He points to the broken greenhouse and you can’t help but sigh at the sight. You hope so too.

Then Joel moves to stand next to you on the land.

It feels different seeing him here.

Just a few weeks ago he was shouting every profanity known to man trying to fix your ancient water heater. He also glared at you the entire time.

Now he stands next to you suggesting on what to grow for the upcoming season.

“You could plant the tomatoes over on this side, give ‘em more shade to grow.”

Joel already reminds you of a back alley cat, one that hisses and refuses to let others near until he decides when to warm up to others. And, like a fresh new sprout, you want to soak up this warmth of him up.

“Also… Don’t forget to plant flowers.” He adds with a soft grumble.

“I won’t.” You grin impressed he remembered.

When you bid him goodnight and thank him again, you almost want to promise you’ll stop by with coffee tomorrow morning.

However that feels too much, like you might make the wrong move and spook him. But you do want to know if he makes it home okay. You can’t even bring yourself to ask him for his phone number.

So you watch Joel leave until your thoughts move fast and you blurt them out.

“Wait how will I know you made it back?”

Joel suddenly stops then glances back to you.

A very soft twinkle comes over his face and he gives you a crooked grin. It colors him with such a boyish expression. This new face of Joel feels sacred, special, and it steals your breath away.

“Hang outside for a bit. I’ll give ya sign, don’t worry.” He nods then melts into the darkness.

You stay frozen on the spot, not wanting to miss whatever it is. You wait, hoping he makes it back safe. Then out from the darkness, far down the path, you see it.

A light from Joel’s house blazes alive.

Then it flickers on and off, like someone flipping the switch a few times. The movement of it against the darkness even feels like a wave of some sorts.

You wish so badly to wave back.

Reassured that he’s home, you head back feeling as light as a feather.

Stepping onto your porch, something catches your eye.

Resting on the main railing barrier are a batch of tulips that were not there when you left.

Your heart jumps into your throat. You didn’t even see Joel place them there.

Delicately placed, the tulips so brilliantly colored sit warm and bright for you - the most beautiful end to your spring.

Though, in your heart, these blooms feel like something closer to a beginning.

[sheepmc]

Morax takes what he wants

MDNI!!

Morax who's mean and rough just treats you like a fuckslut, a cumdump for his pleasure he will degrade and praise you for being a good cockwhore taking his cocks down your throat facefucking you until he satisfied

Morax will not stop even if you beg him to, he'll just keep rutting his hips into you pushing you pass your limits and bounds of overstimulation

Morax loves it when you make a mess for him likes to spit on your pussy and leave a couple slaps too

Morax who takes all your hole at once his cocks in each hole while his fingers is in your mouth

Morax is an absolute mean dom but that's not to say he won't give you the best aftercare you deserve

@moraxsthrone @crystalflygeo @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @zhxngii @kurikurikurisu

[sheepsfluff]

Hey

You're a lot bigger than you used to be, haven't you noticed? Yeah, you waddle a more than you used to. No, no, it's not a criticism, I like that you've outgrown your last three wardrobes. Sarcasm? How could that be when I love watching your ass so much, especially when you don't realize half your buttcrack has slipped halfway out of your too-small underwear. Oops, i guess i shouldn't have said that, my fun's over now.

and so what if people have started to stare at you with how much your belly pours out of those shirts you wear? I mean jeez, they talk about the obesity epidemic but I don't think most of the people we see every day have ever known anyone as fat as you. Hey, that's an accomplishment!

And it's not like you're seeing many people nowadays, anyway. I know all the weight is getting hard on your knees, I shouldn't push you to go out too often. I have to say though, I did enjoy when you used that motorized scooter the other day at the supermarket. Seeing your fat jiggling on top of that over-stressed machine, leaving you open to snacking while you travel...we might have to get you one for every day use.

It's interesting how the fat always finds creative new places to go the more of it there is, like your wrists, your elbows, or even your forehead. Oh, sorry, did I hit a nerve? I guess you might not have realized how much more you've been squinting lately.

Okay, okay, I'll stop teasing. You might look like a blimp to most people, but I can tell when that hunk of lard you call a belly is looking deflated. What's that? You don't feel like walking to the kitchen to eat? That's fine my darling, lovely in fact. It's my dream to deliver food to a fat sack of a person who can barely move a muscle. One more step towards immobility coming right up!