#the snout the eyes the new teeth the tail

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Idk if this has been covered already but-

Does it hurt Mark when he turns into his eldritch shadow form?

Yes.

Very much so.

[specshroom]

So I read that lemurs scoop their competitor's sperm out of females with their tongues. I don't actually know if that's true but...

JUST IMAGINE.

You're found by a troop of these half lemur half human creatures in the forest. Basically a human but with lemur traits, striped tails, huge eyes, furry ears, little snouts and long prehensile tongues, the whole shabang.

It's not long before one or two of them are rubbing up on you, rubbing their scent glands on you which, unbeknownst to you, works as a pretty strong aphrodisiac to humans.

They struggle your back pack and clothes off, leaving you just as naked as they are. You might have been more concerned about that if it wasn't for one of them shoving his strange tongue down your throat and rubbing the scent glands on his wrists all over your naked skin. The pheromones have made you putty in their hands. Two kneel on the ground in front of you and lick up your thighs, feverishly sniffing and lapping at your wet pussy.

After a bit of a skirmish one of them finally mounts and fucks you, much to the others displeasure. It's fast and needy, his arms holding you around the waist to hit those good spots inside you. As you look up at the trees you notice there are many more in this troop than you realised, watching you from the high branches.

The one fucking you finally cums deep inside you. He licks and nibbles at your tits until another one gets impatient and pushes him off starting a fight between them. The sneaky third one takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue into your pussy and scoop out the first's cum, repeatedly dragging his rough tongue along your walls. When he feels he's dragged out enough cum he quickly thrusts himself inside you and fucks you at an alarming pace. Biting your shoulder and neck with his small but sharp teeth. His balls slap against your ass as his load replaces the first one's.

Imagine this process just repeating over and over again, they almost make a game of it. One cums inside and another scoops it out again and again. You can do little but lay there and moan on the forest floor, absolutely cock drunk, just being filled and emptied and filled and emptied.

You become the troops new play thing or maybe you'll join the troop if one of their many loads takes.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: moray eels

This week on Wet Beast Wednesday I'll be going over something amazing, a fish with a sense of morality. You see, the moral eel is known for, what... I think I'm reading this wrong. Oh, MoRAY eel, not moral. Well this is awkward. Hang tight, I need to go redo my research.

(Image: a green moray (Gymnothorax funebris) swimming outside of its burry, with its whole body visible from the side. It is a long, slender fish that looks a bit like a snake. A long fin starts just below the head and continues down the length of the body. The body is arranged in a wave pattern. It has a pointed snout and small eyes. Its body is a yellow-green color. In the background is the sandy seafloor, dotted with various sponges and corals. End ID)

Moray eels are true eels, meaning they are in the order Anguiliformes. Yeah, I did wolf eels, electric eels, and lamprey eels before I got around to actual eels. There are over 200 known species of moray eel in 15 genera. Like other eels, they are elongated bony fish with extra vertebrae and reduced fins. Moray eels have fewer fins than most eel species, only having a dorsal, anal and tail fin that merge together and run down the back of most of the body and underneath portion of it. They achieve motion by undulating this long fin and sometimes undulating the rest of the body as well. Moray eels aren't the fastest of fish, but they can swim backwards, something almost no fish can. The head has a long snout with wide jaws. Most species have long fangs used to grab onto prey, but a few species are adapted to eat hard-shelled prey and have molar-like teeth to crush through shells instead. Probably the coolest feature of morays are the pharyngeal jaws. This is a second set of jaws located in the back of the mouth. When the eel bites onto prey, the jaws can be shot forward to grab the food and help pull it into the throat. While lots of fish have pharyngeal jaws, morays are the only ones who can extend their pharyngeal jaws forward and use them to grab prey. Morays have smooth, scaleless skin that is often patterned to provide camouflage. The skin is coated in mucus that provides protection from damage and infection. In some species, the mucus can be used to glue sand together to help reinforce burrows. Morays lack lateral lines, a system of organs found in most fish that senses changes in water movement. Their sense of smell is their primary sense. The size of morays varies between species. The smallest species is the dwarf moray eel (Gymnothorax melatremus) which reaches 26 cm (10 in) long. The largest species by mass is the giant moray eel (Gymnothorax javanicus) which can reach 3 meters (10 ft) and 30 kg (66 lbs) while the longest species is the slender giant moray (Strophidon sathete), the longest known specimen of which measured in at 3.94 m (12.9 ft).

New reaction image

(Image: a giant moray (Gymnothorax javanicus) emerging from a burrow. It is brown and mottled with yellowish patches. Its head is pointed at the camera and it's mouth is wide open, aming it look shocked. End ID)

(Image: an anatomical diagram of the skeleton of a moray eel emphasizing the pharyngeal jaws and the muscle attachments. End ID. Art by Zina Deretsky)

Moray eels are found throughout the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian oceans. Different species are found in different temperatures and depths, though most species live in relatively shallow, warm water. Several species can live in brackish water and a few will swim upriver and live for a time in fresh water, though there do not appear to be any species that live their entire lives in fresh water. Morays are ambush predators who rely on the element of surprise. They live in small, tight places such as holes in coral, gaps between rocks, or sandy burrows. When prey passes, the eel can lunge out and grab it. Unlike most fish, the eel cannot use suction feeding due to the shapes of their mouths. They have to rely on lunging froward and catching prey with their mouths. Their mouths are adapted in shape to push water to the sides. This reduces water resistance and avoids creating a wave that could push prey away from the eel. If an eel catches prey that cannot be swallowed whole, it will tie itself in a knot while biting on to the food. By pulling its head through the loop, the eel can rip the food into bite-sized pieces. Spending most of their times in burrows also provides protection from predators, especially in juveniles or smaller species. At night, the eels will come out of their burrows to hunt sleeping prey while the larger predators are asleep. Giant morays have also been seen engaging in interspecies cooperative hunting with roving coral groupers (Plectropomus pessuliferus). The eels can fit into small crevices the groupers can't to flush prey into the grouper's path while catching their own. Morays are mostly solitary species and many can be territorial. They are known to be shy and will retreat into their burrows if they feel threatened. They are also curious and many species are quite intelligent.

(Image: a male ribbon eel (Rhinomuraena quaesita) on a coral reef. It is a very long and slender eel with its body curved in many waves. It is brightly colored, with a blue-purple body, yellow fin and face, and a long black and white stripe running down the back half of the body. On the nostrils are two feather-like structures. End ID)

Morays reproductive strategies are poorly known and differ based on species. While many species seem to have no set mating season and will reproduce whenever they can, others will mate at the same time every year. Some species seem to have dedicated spots to lay their eggs and a few are believed to be anadromous, meaning they travel from the sea to fresh water to spawn. Meanwhile, some of the species that spend a lot of time in fresh water are catadromous, meaning they return to sea to mate. Females will lay their eggs and the male fertilize them. After this, they depart, providing no parental care. As with all true eels, moray eels begin life as leptocephalus larvae. This type of fish larvae is notable for its resemblance to a simple, transparent leaf with a head on one end. These larvae are unique and poorly understood, despite being the larval stage of a lot of different species of fish. They are unusually well developed for larvae, capable of active swimming and generally living life. In fact, some particularly large leptocephalus larvae were initially mistaken for adult fish. They feed mostly on bits of drifting organic material called marine snow and can remain in the larval stage for up to 3 years, with those in colder conditions usually taking longer to metamorphose. All leptocephalus larvae start out with no sex organs, then develop female organs, then develop male ones, becoming simultaneous hermaphrodites. They will ultimately become eith male or female and it is likely that environmental factors are the main determining factor. During metamorphosis into a juvenile, the leptocephalus can reduce in size by up to 90%, resulting in the juvenile being smaller than the larva. The process of maturation is poorly understood, but it seems that most morays will be sexually mature by three years of age.

(Image: multiple photos of a particularly large leptocephalus larva (not sure what species). It is a translucent organis, wth a body shaped like a very long leaf, narrow at both ends. In the frint is a very tiny head. End ID)

Morays are shy and generally avoid humans. Though some cultures have hunted them for food, they are often not considered a particularly good food source. Many species have high levels of chemicals called ciguatoxins in their bodies, which can lead to a condition called ciguatera fish poisoning if eaten. The largest threat to morays is habitat loss. This is especially true for the many species that live in coral reefs, which are in increasing danger due to global warming. Attacks on humans are rare and usually happen as a response to a human sticking their hand in the eel's burrow. Some of the large species could cause significant damage with a bite. Some species, usually the smaller ones, are found in the aquarium trade, thought they are not good pets for beginners as even the smallest morays are still large for aquarium fish and have some specific requirements. The curiosity many morays have has led to some becoming familiar with and even friendly to humans, often the result of feeding them. They can recognize individual humans and remember them over the course of years. Aquarium employees sometimes report that the eels will come to nuzzle and play with them and have personalities like dogs. Marine biologists and professional SCUBA divers Ron and Valorie Taylor befriended a pair of eels they named Harry and Fang at the Great Barrier Reef who would remember them and come out to visit them year after year.

(Image: a SCUBA diver hugging a large, brown moray with black spots. End ID)

(Video: A shot video showing Valeria Taylor and a moray eel she befriended)

(Video: the song "That's a Moray", a parody of the song "That's Amore" by Dean Martin)

[moonstruckme]

Hello hello!! Was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a fic where r loves to cuddle and play around w Sirius in his animagus form, but perhaps he gets a bit too excited and scratches or shoves her too hard? Thought this could turn out super cute 🤭 thank you!

This was so fun, thanks for requesting lovely! I did it with whimsical reader, hope that's okay <3

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 1.2k words

When you get home, your dog is waiting for you on the porch. 

“Hi, puppy!” Your delight is obvious in your voice, and he grins at you (can dogs grin? You’re not sure, but this one does) as he bounds down the couple of steps to meet you halfway. 

Your fingers find the spot between his shoulders automatically. His tail starts wagging, snout resting against your forearm almost affectionately. For the past few days, you’ve come home to find this strange dog by your house, seemingly awaiting your arrival, with no collar or caretakers in sight. You’d be worried for him if he didn’t seem so well cared for. His black coat is always shiny and clean, and he doesn’t look underfed like you might expect a stray to be. For only having known each other a few days, you’ve become fast friends. 

“Puppy puppy puppy,” you murmur contentedly, using both hands to scratch behind his ears and all down his back. The dog reacts with a pleased sort of complacence, as though this is the sort of treatment he knows he deserves. It reminds you of something you can’t place. “How was your day? Are you hungry at all?”

Hungry must be a word he knows, because the dog perks up, licking your hand eagerly. 

You beam at him. “Yeah? I have some chicken in the fridge, would you like that?” 

This time, he gives a short bark. 

“Okay, let’s go.” You walk towards the door, patting your thigh for him to follow. “Gosh, you’re just the handsomest boy I’ve ever met. Don’t tell my boyfriend I said that, though. Maybe don’t tell him I’m letting you inside either.” Sirius is a bit odd about having animals in your home; that one time you brought in a snake you found in your garden, his face had gone so white you worried he was going to fall over and hurt himself. 

Your new friend follows you inside and into the kitchen without so much as glancing around, like in your home is somewhere he’s supposed to be. If you get any more attached to him, that might be a case you have to make to Sirius at some point. A dog this lovely just should not be forced to stay outdoors when he’s so comfortable in here. He’s clearly a kindred spirit. 

“All right.” You fish out a skinny piece of chicken from last night’s leftovers, holding it out to him. You plan to lower it close to his mouth, but the dog jumps up, snatching it from your fingers with a click of his teeth. “Oh!” you startle. “Um, good boy.” 

He gives you another one of his signature canine grins, wagging his tail for more. You give him a few more pieces before you cut him off, but the dog seems just as happy being pet, soaking up your praises and rolling over to encourage you to rub his belly. 

“Oh, you’re so sweet, you’re my handsomest boy, aren’t you?” you coo as his back leg kicks excitedly. “Are you the best boy in the whole world, my sweet baby? Okay, fine, one more bite of chicken.” 

You stand up to retrieve it, and the dog rolls over, jumping up to meet you. You squeal as he licks your face, but then his paw slips, short claw marking a harsh line down your collar and chest. He whimpers softly when you flinch, dropping back to the ground remorsefully. 

“Sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for, but you extend the piece of chicken as a peace offering. 

The dog tucks his tail between his legs. 

“It’s okay.” You crouch in front of him, still holding out the chicken. “It was an accident. It didn’t even hurt.” 

You could swear that was apology in the dog’s big black eyes as he takes a step toward you. He takes the chicken gently between his teeth, munching on that before licking your hand. 

You smile at him, but when you reach for his head to scratch his ears, he turns and trots out of the room. 

“Hey!” You stand up, watching as he goes right out the open front door, disappearing from sight. You give a weak whistle. “Come here, puppy, it’s okay!” 

The dog doesn’t come back. You sigh, confused and a tad hurt, but put the chicken away and close the fridge. You shut the front door, too, but no sooner do you do that than you hear a key in the lock, and then your boyfriend is pushing it back open. 

“Hi!” Your mood is immediately righted, a light sort of contentedness inflating in your chest. 

“Hey, sweetness.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair, oddly ruffled from a wind you must not have noticed outside. He starts for you, but then his eyes drop to your chest. “What happened there?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You wave a hand, but Sirius’ eyes are sad as he comes closer. The scratch is shallow, not even really bleeding, but from the delicate way he touches your shoulder you’d think you’d been stabbed through with a broadsword. “I was playing with a dog—outside, playing with him—and he jumped on me.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes flicker up to yours at the fib, something that could be amusement or knowing or both in them, but you tell yourself it couldn’t be either. Then it passes, and his mouth purses sorrily. “Oh, no,” he says, thumb sweeping over your shoulder sympathetically. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really. It just stings, a little.” 

He pouts. “We should probably clean it so it doesn’t get infected. That dog really got you, huh?” 

“I think he felt bad afterward,” you say, letting him pull you towards the bathroom. “It was an accident, he just got excited.” 

Sirius nods ardently. “Can hardly blame him for that. Who wouldn’t get a little overexcited, with the world’s prettiest girl paying them attention?” 

You smile at him, and he slides a hand along your jaw, kissing you. “Still can’t believe the fucker hurt you, though.” 

“Oh, don’t be mean. He’s really a very good dog.” 

“I’m not doubting that, babe. Even good dogs can slip up sometimes.” 

“Yeah?” You tilt your head at him as he smears ointment on your scratch. “I didn’t think you were a dog person.” 

Sirius gives a sharp bark of laughter that turns into a cough. “No?” 

“Not really, no.” 

“Well, I am.” 

“Hm.” You think on this, pondering how you might convince him to let your new friend stay with you (if that happens, you’ll have to actually give the dog a name) while he stretches a thin bandage over your scratch. In your experience, if you ask really very nicely, Sirius tends to be amenable to most things you want. 

“There.” He presses a gentle kiss over the top edge of the bandage. “Like it never happened.” 

You smile and reach for him, letting a piece of silken hair run through your fingers. “Thanks for patching me up, Siri.” 

He grins. “Course, lovely girl. Anything else you’d like to call me?” 

You tilt your head, feeling your brows furrow bemusedly. “Honey?” 

Sirius frowns. He turns and goes from the room, muttering something that sounds like, “...called me nicer things when I was a dog.” 

“What?” you call after him. 

“Nothing, sweetness!”

[oneforthemunny]

🦇🪺🌀

mafia!eddie, baby fic, pets.

"Get them back, Gareth." Eddie growled, one hand wrapped around you, steadying you as carefully as he could while the other held the small carrier. Baby Bea nestled under the bounds of blankets, squishy features slumped in adorable sleepiness.

"Don't be mean to them, Ed, they're just excited." You pouted, looking over at your four boys, each on leashes, being held back by Max and Gareth.

Eddie had insisted they be leashed when you two came home, held back in case one got scared by the newest addition.

"I'm not being mean to them, baby. 'M talking to Gareth." Eddie hissed through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing in a threatening glare towards his friend.

"I got 'em, Munson. Relax." Gareth rolled his eyes, pulling Lucifer's leash gently so he sat back.

"Did you give them the blanket?" Eddie muttered, angling the carrier behind him gently, ready to step in front at the first sign of aggression.

"Yes." Max clicked.

"All of them? You made sure they all smelled it and didn't maul it or-"

"-Jesus Christ, Ed, yes." Max groaned. "We let them all smell it, and they didn't do anything. Just sniffed it and whined. No mauling, no growling, nothing."

Eddie glared at her, annoyed, but nodded curtly in what seemed like approval, maybe thanks. "Sweetheart, you need to sit down." Eddie muttered, his hand squeezing your arm gently.

"'M fine, Ed." You mumbled, letting him guide you towards the sofa anyways, still groggy with emotions and lack of sleep from the whirlwind that was the past three days.

"Just give me to her. I'll hold her." You hum, sitting down gently, Eddie's hands hovering over your waist, lowering you into the seat.

"I can hold her, baby-"

"-I can hold her." You pressed, firmer this time. "Just pass her to me."

Eddie hesitated, scanning the room before he took Bea out of her carrier, holding her in a stiff, uncertain grip that had the tiny baby wiggling uncomfortably, face scrunching with displeasure, the slightest cry coming out.

The dogs perched at attention, eyes wide, a little startled as they watched you take the tiny baby, soothing her in your hold.

"Ok, I'm ready." You settled, Eddie moving a throw pillow under your arms. "Let them come see me."

Gareth loosened his grip on the leash, Diablo jumping to his feet. Eddie's harsh click came before he could go much further. "Just-Just wait, ok. One at a time, and- hand me the fuckin' leash, Emerson."

You swallowed back a smile at Eddie's frazzled expression, brows pulled together, eyes hard with frantic worry. He wrapped the leash tight around his fist, kept it short as he led Diablo over to you. His grip was tight, eyes glued on the dog as he sniffed you, tail wagging with excitement when you petted him. His snout stopping to hover over the baby, sniffing her with uncertainty, ears perking when she gurgled.

Eddie's eyes widened, ready to yank the dog back and far away. Diablo's tail wagged faster, a quiet whine as the leash kept him from moving further.

Each of the dogs gathered at your feet, silently sniffing the new baby with curiosity as you rocked her.

[s1llydr3amscape]

Maybe it was the friends we made along the way!

My security breach cast re-imagined when we first got the posters and merch leaks!!! I changed them into ocs because after seeing their in game designs I fell in love <33333

Another reason why Vanny is my fave is because I don't have to design her clothes /j

Extras and ramblings under the cut :

Zoomed in because I drew them on the same canvas like a goober :

Many reasons why I chose to make the way it is are cause hehehehe

-I didn't like Roxy at first because off that funko leak being a reused model of Foxy. So I made her a hyena recolor using his model because I think they're cool, yet I still kept the fact she's the shortest because of Foxy in fnaf 1 being the shortest!!! And it did sorta happen with her being his replacement 😭She has short hair because I think one of her main appeals would be she would change up her hair every other week.

-Freddy is a moon bear because I miss Lefty. Also cuz I thought Fazbear Ent developed enough technology so that they could change colors during the night/dark like in the posters making them blacklight/neon. Also once again I miss Lefty and Also Nightmare. He had blue eyes freaky like that because I think FazEnt was developing new technologies to recognize guests by having their main stars test them out. And it did happen in the game so yay!!!

-I genuinely didn't think Bonnie would show up because off the leaks but at the time everyone designed their own version off him and so did I!!! I made him white and brown as a homage to Vannys help wanted mask. The blue streaks in his hair also relates to my Vanessa design. Reasons for this is because with how advanced the AI it was to trick them into thinking they were eachother friends. Why because the heartbreak would've been catastrophic.

-Chica didn't change much but I added brown because I love the color brown it is my top 1 color with purple following behind. Also because I love gradients I fucking love gradients you bet your ass if I add gradients I could <333 She has feather hair like that because off Big Bird I saw in a short fnaf sesame street horror yt video and that scared and gave me nightmares because of this one scene of a lady giving birth to his kid??? Idk it scared me alot. She's my favorite tho <3333

-Monty didn't change except he had circular glasses because I wanted him to match with Roxy as the newest additions to the Fazbear brand!!! Also man I wish one of them was a drummer but I couldn't decide between if Roxy or Monty would get it. I also didn't know Roxanne would be racing and gave her rock climbing. Reasons cause imagining her chasing you being able to climb walls would be scary. My only wish Is that I made his snout longer I want you to be able to hold it like a weapon

-They all have eyelashes because I think that is epic!!!

-Freddy is the tallest. Bonnie and Chica are the same height and Roxanne is the shortest

Might redraw them in my oc world version (if anyone would be interested it's basically also a robot story with my old fnaf oc's now turned rivals to Fazbear Entertainment) and not simplified but my other wips need me they are calling for me they are telling me to finish them and I must!!! Probably

And here's my older art after we got to see the game and the designs are wack oughhh :

They would've fought with my pink yellow blue Vanny design!!! Which is the only one I redesigned because I love Vanny to much... You can see her pre-design here and oughh Pink Vanny <3333

-If you look closely Vanny has a Dino looking tail!!! And that's because I thought hey imagine each time we defeated an animatronic she'd sew a piece off their body onto her suit! So when we killed Monty she'd scavenged and get his tail!!! With Chica she got her chicken feet!! And with Roxanne she gets her teeth!!!

-Why because I associate her with Pinkamena cupcakes so much. Also to add onto my previous statement with Bonnie looking like her old mask. She changed her suit in the final act to solidify herself as the bad guy (final boss) who had been using the animatronics for his own gain.

-Man I never draw Chica with her head bow now that I think abt it same with Vanny's whiskers god what was I thinking!!!

Also sorry they're oddly cropped I watermark my stuff to remember what year I made them in and my old username is bad 💀

[meowmeowriley]

@sergeantwoods Sorry for the long wait, but here's the mer!AU

Think I'll call it Fish Out of the Sea

Ghost x Soap, blacktip reef shark mer!Soap, human Ghost, fluff, getting together (kinda)

Ficlet after the cut 😘

"No."

John sighed, he didn't seem surprised by Shepherd's hard rejection, but he kept trying. Simon had to give props to the fishing boat Captain. "You have the best mer rehabilitation facility in the country. It'd be a shame not to use it."

"You said you had a mermaid. That's not a fucking mermaid, John."

"I said I had an injured mer." He repeated himself from their earlier conversation.

"I'm not taking that thing into my facility."

"He needs help-"

"He's hideous, and aggressive." Shepherd barked. "That thing keeps lashing out, it'll scare patrons, attack my staff, and if that *thing* touches my mermaids, tries to mate with them, I'll have it put down."

"Mers are actually matriarchal, sir." The mer expert, Kyle, finally spoke up. "I've never worked with a shark mer before, but I do know he won't mess with Kate or Rosa, because they won't want him. Since they're together."

"Kyle. For the last time, the mermaids aren't lesbians. They're just fish." Shepherd was one of those who thought of mers as lesser than humans. Obviously.

Simon was standing near the door. No one had noticed him sneak in, but when he'd overheard that the mer was a shark variant, he'd needed to see it. Now, seeing the poor thing huddled in the corner of it's transport tank, curled in on itself, he felt so bad for it. He watched, any time someone went near it it flared out it's dorsal and pectoral fins. It would gnash it's teeth and charge the glass. All signs of aggression in a shark but... as soon as it finished its display it was right back to the furthest corner from the humans. It kept peeking at them over it's own shoulder when it thought they weren't looking. He quietly crept closer.

He took in it's markings, gray on it's back, white on its belly, black tips to it's fins. Claspers on its pelvic fins. A male blacktip reef shark then. His inferior end was all shark, something Simon was very familiar with, as he took care of all of the sharks here at the aquarium, several of them blacktips. His superior end, or top half, he supposed a visitor would (incorrectly) consider it, was new and interesting to him. Though he was vaguely humanoid, his skin was all two tones white and gray, like his tail. He had a wedge shaped snout in place of a human nose, a wider mouth with jagged teeth. Slitted eyes, and a black tipped fin atop his head that reminded Simon of a mohawk. Webbed gray and white hands with black claws rubbed up and down it's own arms in a self soothing gesture. One forearm had an odd angle to it, probably the injury that landed him here.

He retreated from the tank quietly before speaking, interrupting the squabbling of the other men. "He looks like a reef shark to me." Everyone else jumped. "Blacktip reef sharks aren't aggressive. Sure they can get a little iffy during feeding, but they're more curious than anything."

"He's been charging the glass, Ghost." Simon managed to suppress his eye roll at Shepherd's nickname for him. They all called him that here. "Fuck you mean 'not aggressive', you don't know mers."

"No, but I know sharks. He's injured, and defensive. You ever think he doesn't like us because it was something shaped like us that broke his arm?" John winced, he obviously felt bad about it. Not like he could've know he'd caught the mer in his net, but it was nice to see some accountability from a fisherman for once.

"Well we can't communicate with him, so he'll stay scared and defensive." If Simon didn't love the sharks, he would've left this place a long time ago because Shepherd was an absolutely abrasive cunt.

"Kate and Rosa can. And their English is excellent." Kyle spoke up again. "We have them pass on the message of our intentions, and Ghost and I tag team his rehabilitation." Of course he uses the dumb nickname too. "It's the perfect plan! And an incredible opportunity to be one of two aquariums to actually work with a shark mer. The novelty of something so rare will bring in patrons." Kyle was really leaning into Shepherd's true interests here, bringing up money.

Shepherd was quiet for a moment and then, "If anything happens, you're both fired." He then stormed out of the room.

"Thanks, Gaz."

"Of course, Cap."

Now the three of them had to get the shark mer into an appropriate tank.

***

They had initially tried to put him in with the other mers, but he'd seen the sharks in the tank across the hall and told Kate he wanted to be with his own kind. That would make Simon's job easier, anyway. Kate had explained that they needed to put a cast on his arm, and Rosa had wrestled it onto him, since the humans couldn't get too close. They decided to name him John, after Captain Price, calling him Johnny affectionately. Gaz explained to Ghost that part of rehabbing Johnny would be gaining his trust, teach him to communicate. To release him without a way to communicate could lead to him attacking humans and being a problem down the road.

Simon had a plan: ignore him. He was a reef shark, his own curiosity would get him to open up. It took a week.

Simon would feed his sharks from a catwalk above their tank, for safety reasons, dropping their food in in the mornings before they opened their doors. No need to scare any children. For the first week, any time he passed by, Johnny would posture aggressively and gnash his teeth, before snatching up his food and swimming off. When Ghost would gear up and go in the water for his evening shows, Johnny stayed far away. At night, Gaz and his mers would move over and Ghost would mostly just observe as the girls tried to teach Johnny how to speak, and he petulantly ignored them, with a little pout on his face as he refused to even make eye contact with them. It was cute.

The first time he tried to speak was also the first time Simon saw him raise his head above the surface. He seemed frantic. "HAAAH!" He startled a bit at what was most likely the first time he ever used his lungs to breath air. "HAAAAH! AH! YAAH!" he was waving with his good arm. Stretching it out towards the platform between his tank and that of the other mers, thrashing his tail with his fins tucked in. Very distressed. Simon went to check, to see what could possibly be bothering him so much, when he found their elusive fourth mer. Simon had only seen Gary once. Gaz called him Roach, because he hid in the tiniest cracks in the reef in their enclosure, why on earth the isopod mer was on the platform, and not in the water, was beyond him, but he couldn't let the poor thing suffer. He had several of his little legs caught in a grate. Simon spent some time disentangle him. He tossed the infant sized mer into the nearest tank, which happened to be the shark tank, with Johnny. The larger mer immediately dove to catch him. He stroked Roach's antennae back like one would the hair of a small child, a soothing motion. Clearly not as much of a loner as he pretended to be. From then on the little isopod mer could be found clinging to Johnny's sides or fins with his many little periopods more often than not. After that, it seemed that Gary encouraged Johnny's more curious side. The mer's language was mostly outside of the human range of hearing, but Simon occasionally caught clicks, whistles or hums shared between the two.

Simon had left a bucket with soap close to the edge once, the two mers were clearly curious about it, but he didn't think anything would come of it. Which is why it was such a surprise when Johnny stuck a webbed hand in and scooped some out, popping it immediately into his mouth. Simon knew it wasn't enough to harm him, which is why he couldn't help but laugh at the poor creatures misfortune as it sputtered and writhed, making bubbles. While laughing he let his guard down, and was surprised when something struck him, knocking him off the catwalk and into the tank. He opened his eyes and looked around, seeing only Roach, floating downward, listing side to side, tiny head in his tiny hands. He surfaced to see Johnny. "Did you just throw him at me?!" Johnny sunk down so only his eyes and cranial fin were above the water. The little shit. "Not cool, Soap!" He forced his palm out towards the mer, sending a spray of water its way. That seemed to really break down the mer's walls.

Johnny started approaching while Simon would try and clean the tank. At first, darting away if Simon caught sight of him. Eventually however, he would get closer and simply observe. He'd watch Simon work at cleaning the glass or vacuuming the sand at the bottom. It was fun to see shark behavior and mer behavior collide. If Simon sat something down, Johnny would pick it up, and without a doubt if he could get it in his hands, it would end up in his mouth.

There was a small crowd, a child's birthday party had been held over by Gaz's mer tank, the girls were always a hit with the kids, and the little show they put on with Gaz was actually pretty funny. They'd harass him as he pretended to try and do his chores. Slapstick comedy was good for all ages.

Simon had his own show with his sharks, but it wasn't for a few more hours. He was actually just trying to clean. Apparently his cleaning sponge had caught Johnny's attention, as the mer had swam up and was watching him intently. He kept inching forward, eventually crowding Simon against the glass while reaching for his sponge. "Oi!" He said into his respirator, not that anyone could hear him. He shoved Johnny away and kept trying to cleaning, but the persistent bastard just kept coming back. He could vaguely see the crowd observing them through the glass. They were probably laughing. When he'd had enough, he got an idea. He turned when Johnny got close again and placed one hand on his dorsal fin and the other on the underside of his snout. He began to rub at the sensitive underside of the mer's snout, and just like his sharks, the mer entered a state of tonic immobility. He repositioned Johnny, nose down tail to the surface, Johnny's arms hung limply down past his head. Simon quickly withdrew his hands and watched as the mer continued to float for a bit, before blinking vigorously. He shook his head before righting himself, and slapped his tail into Simon's chest as he practically fled to his little cave at the other end of the tank. When he surfaced later, Gaz informed him that the kids were raving about how cool the 'shark guys' were.

Simon had to admit that Johnny was growing on him. He looked forward to seeing him each day. Johnny began trying to get Simon to swim with him. He'd grab Simon's arms and try to pull him into the water when he was on land, or he'd push Simon away from the glass and his cleaning supplies, towards the open water. Sometimes Simon would indulge him, and the two of them would make laps around the tank.

Simon realized, when Johnny began posturing towards the sharks and getting territorial about him towards them, that Johnny was attempting to court him. Worse, he couldn't bring himself to try and put an end to the behavior either. Johnny was getting touchy, he'd run his hands along Simon's sides or chest, in much the same way Simon would to per his sharks, but it felt different. He would push Simon until he floated horizontally in the water, then drape himself across the man.

Simon knew he was getting himself into some deep shit, but he couldn't help the small voice in the back of his head that urged him to reach out, to cradle the mer's rubbery cheeks in his hands. He wanted to kiss him. He was fucked.

***

I hope you liked it! Ngl, I really liked this one. If you don't mind, I might expand on this and make it a multi-chapter fic over on AO3? I wanna explore more of society's reaction to mers, specifically interspersed relationships and where this could go. Let me know what you think, and thanks for the idea!

[dragonskulls]

Based on the variety among sea animals I decided to make some regional variations of the coast strikers (note that these are variations only, not entirely new quivers or clades). The dragons shown here would be the most “defined” archetype of each variety, showcasing most or all traits characteristic of said kind. They all share certain base features, like rudder shaped tails, gills, harpoon tongues, echolocation, double rows of teeth, and flat tail spines that can be detached and thrown. However, some traits change or are more common in each variety:

Deep water

Make up about 5% of the population, and inhabit the smaller communities in deeper ocean. The main activities here are algae and mollusk farming, as well as resource collection from the sea floor, both of which require a more long term stay –despite the dangers of sea serpents and other such beasts–. Slightly smaller than their cousins, they’re better equipped for the depths rather than for flying: shorter wings, webbed talons, very broad tails, and gills being more oxygen efficient, although their dart spines are usually less in quantity and shorter compared to inland dragons. Extra flippers and more fin tissue between spines is common, as well as larger eyes to take in more light. Their most notable trait, is that of translucence. Most commonly, it’s usually just wings and torsos that are see through, but different dragons showcase different levels of said trait, some being completely translucent in rare cases (of course, trading better camouflage for less armor). Coloration typically goes from dark colors similar to coastal strikers, black, red, or sometimes pale colors (the latter present usually in the populations living in the deepest available settlements). Rarely, some slight bioluminescence is present in transparent sections of the body.

Coastal

The representatives of the Roaring Coast quiver, being around 80% of their numbers. Sleek, tall but well muscled, they inhabit the sea side cliffs on the coast and some settlements in shallower waters. Extremely long and narrow wings are perfect for soaring for hours out at sea, with webbed back talons and a flattened tail making them adept swimmers. Their blade shaped spines are plenty and deadly when thrown, and offer some protection to their necks and backs. Fin tissue in between the spines is few or non existent. An odd ability most present in this variety, is the one of spitting ink. Manifesting itself as dark splotches in the throat, this ink is dense and quickly expanding underwater, and very sticky and thick on land, making it useful at deterring predators or confusing prey. Countershading is the standard regarding coloration, with light colors underneath and darker ones on top, the latter usually ranging from black, gray to washed out shades of blueish or purple hues which shine with more vivid highlights under the sun. Most common patterns are stripes or flecks. A perfect balance between the sea and land.

Inland

The remainder of the coast striker population, they live in the rivers and lakes on the edges of the Roaring Coast territory, further inland but still relatively close to the ocean. Shorter but more stout than coastal strikers, with medium length wings, broad whiskered snouts and narrower tails. Their spines are closer to the average AshWing, being more needle shaped rather than a flat blade. Their colors are similar to those of pebbles and gravel (more earthy tones) and messy patterns of spots, blotches, stripes and rosettes. Fin tissue is more similar to that of fish, making itself present more than in the coast variety but less than those of deep waters, as well as having some slight webbing in all talons. Some notable features are some splashes of brighter colors, and semi retractable barbs in limbs and backs –like those of catfish– which can sometimes inject painful venom. These last two traits are similar to the ones present in swamp lurkers; this could be the result of convergent evolution or cross breeding between clades, given the relative proximity of their territories

On a final note, characteristics mentioned here aren’t exclusive to each variety: there could be a coastal striker with slight translucence and barbs, a deep water striker with whiskers and ink, or an inland striker with full talon webbing and jet black scales. These are increasingly likely if one parent has said traits. Additionally, many times these varieties and traits are not so starkly differentiated as are the ones show here, usually being a mild mix between some

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Can I request "Please tell me you have a plan" in Hic Sunt Dracones verse pretty please ? <3

You certainly can! This is something I've been wanting to write for a while: a little bonus scene from Eddie’s pov, some time before the spring festival.

Come what may

Rated: T

Words: 998

Tags: Fantasy AU; Dragon Eddie; Prince Steve; Platonic Stobin; Hurt/Comfort; Mates; Soul Bond; That dragon is down bad

Notes: Bonus scene to Hic sunt dracones

Fate has a funny sense of humor.

You spend your entire life thinking that you don’t care for small things. Delicate things like dewdrops glistening in the morning light. Pretty things like smooth skin and chestnut hair, glowing gold in the sun. Soft things like the silky touch of flower petals. And then, one day, your world comes crashing down in a cloud of splintered wood and shattered stone and blood and pain, so much fucking pain- … only to reshape itself into something new, with the prettiest, softest, most delicate creature you’ve ever laid eyes on at its centre.

He never thought such a thing was possible. Then again, he only ever heard vague stories about what it felt like, finding your mate.

“Sweetheart? Everything alright?”

He never thought of himself as sweet, but here he is. He would be anything for this boy.

“There you are,” his beloved smiles when he turns his attention back on him, and pats the fresh bandage at the base of his tail with gentle hands - always so gentle. “Had me worried for a moment there. Thought I'd hurt you.”

“As if you'd ever hurt me, my love,” he wants to say, but all that'll leave his throat is a low, amused rumble. He goes for nudging his snout into his little mate's chest instead, and the boy yelps and nearly topples over.

He has never missed his other form before, content to stay this way for days and weeks on end, but now he finds himself longing for hands to return the boy’s touch, for lips to shower him in kisses, to press sweet words and playful bites into that soft skin.

“Hey, careful, you big brute,” his beloved scolds, but his smile is bright and happy, his voice brimming with pride. “You're getting stronger every day.”

“Uh-huh. Fantastic,” says another voice, and they both whip around. Oh yes, that's right, his prince brought his little friend today. She's perched on a rock a little way off and watching them with an unhappy quirk to her mouth. “What are you gonna do once he's back to full health? Have you thought of that at all?”

That smile dims. He bares his fangs at the girl and snarls, but his prince puts a hand to his snout and he quietens reluctantly. The girl sighs.

“Listen, you know I'm on your side, but you can't hide a fully grown dragon forever. Just- … Please tell me you have a plan?”

His mate sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Steve?”

“Not much to plan, is there?” The words come out clipped, all fake resolution. “He recovers, and then he leaves.”

The girl takes one look at his mate's face and her expression softens. “Listen, dingus, I know you two have gotten … attached. I wish there was another way-”

“-but there isn't,” his prince interrupts, suddenly intensely focused on searching for something in his bag of medical supplies. “I know that, you don't have to remind me. Now, don't you have somewhere else to be?”

She doesn't look insulted at being dismissed like that. In fact, the only thing swimming in her eyes as she stands is sympathy.

“Take care,” she mutters, patting his mate's shoulder. He doesn’t look up. “You too, big guy.”

He waits until her footsteps die down, and then he nudges his mate's shoulder with his tail, whining softly under his breath.

You don't seriously think I'd ever leave you, do you, my little love?

His prince finally drops the bag, sitting down in the grass and curling up against his side, soft and small and warm.

“Yeah, I'm alright. Don't worry about me.”

He grumbles in annoyance, once again wishing for a set of human lips. His little mate still misunderstands him, sometimes. He has no doubt that this will change in time, once their bond grows stronger. Here and now, though, there's no comforting words he can offer, and the thought fills him with helpless rage.

There's a patch of wildflowers growing just next to their spot, bright and colorful and pretty. Following a sudden impulse, he snaps them off with his teeth. He needs to be careful with them, because they're so tiny and delicate, but he's starting to learn more and more about delicate things.

“I'm pathetic, huh?” his prince mutters, pressing his face into his side, fingers absentmindedly tracing the pattern of scales there. “I mean, I know you can't stay forever, it's just … I wish you could. It's stupid, I- ugh, what are you doing?”

His little love yelps as he drops the flowers on his head, reflexively trying to brush them off. Then, he realizes what they are and pauses. His pretty eyes are large as he looks up.

“Sweetheart? Are those for me?”

He rumbles his confirmation, basking in the picture that is his mate. Flowers in his lap, on his shoulders, in his hair. They suit him so well. He's going to crown him in flowers one day, whole wreaths of them so he'll never need to wear the ugly, heavy things made of metal and gemstones that humans insist on putting on their kings.

His prince smiles, warm and bright like the rising sun, and he purrs in reply, leaning their foreheads together. He cannot convey his love in words yet, but he can show it with touch. He cannot return those caresses and kisses yet, but he will. He'll return them a thousandfold, once he's strong enough to shift again, and he won't ever stop, for as long as they both live. He belongs to this boy, just like this boy is his. His beloved may not fully understand it yet, but he does. Their very souls started to entwine on the day they met - a bond that will only grow stronger for as long as they both live.

They won't ever part, come what may.

And when they leave this place, it will be together.

More celebration ficlets

[goodlucktai]

the soft animal of your body (1/3)

rise of the tmnt daemon au word count: 4k title borrowed from 'wild geese' by mary oliver

this au is the brainchild of myself and my dearest meeks, @gibbouslunation on ao3, @mykimouser on tumblr. it's inspired by 'his dark materials' but we're playing fast and loose with canon so please dont take it too seriously <3

the daemons so far !

read on ao3

x

“Mikey,” a persistent voice says, “wake up!”

“Mmmmno,” he mumbles, rolling over. “Five more minutes.”

The mattress gives beneath him with a bounce and a furry body wriggles its way close, shoving a wet snout against Mikey’s cheek. He giggles despite himself and tries tugging the blanket over his head, but it’s caught carefully in a set of teeth, and a game of tug-o-war starts immediately. 

“I thought you wanted to make Raphie and Teddy’s favorites for breakfast this morning! If you sleep in there won’t be time!”

With a start, Mikey remembers the significance of the day and shoots upright. A second later, his arms are full of a very enthusiastic Border Collie. Helianthus is always excited to see him in the morning, like she didn’t just see him the night before. She’s always excited to see everyone, and Mikey both understands her and loves her with his whole entire soul. 

He gathers Sunflower’s head in both hands and kisses her firmly between the eyes. She holds as still as a statue until the deed is done and then explodes into action, licking his face like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, entire body wagging from the force of her happy tail. 

Dodging her affections and untangling himself from the blanket, Mikey manages to climb out of bed. He’d wanted a hammock when he was little, but when Sunny settled, it didn’t make sense to have a bed that was so tricky for her to get into and out of. 

She was the first of all his siblings’ daemons to settle, even April’s. She knows exactly who she is, and always has. 

“Breakfast!” he reminds her.

“Oh, right!” she says, and shoots out of the room like an arrow. 

A startled squawk in the kitchen probably means Donnie and Terror are up already, which probably means they pulled an all-nighter. And if they’re awake, their twins definitely are.

Leo’s relationship with sleep is hot and cold on a good day, but there isn’t a force on earth that could persuade him to lay around in bed while his counterparts were getting into trouble somewhere without him. 

Sure enough, Mikey rounds the corner to find the four of them clustered around the kitchen table. Lucky perks up when she sees Mikey, and waves with one of her tiny paws, and he takes that as full permission to swoop in and steal her from Leo. 

Leo smiles into his coffee mug and lets his little daemon be the one who says, “Good morning, Angie!”

She rubs her face against Mikey’s cheek, as outwardly affectionate and sweet as Leo likes to pretend he isn’t. 

“Good morning, Lucky girl,” Mikey tells her, giving the ringtail an extra squeeze before letting her climb nimbly up his shoulder and perch on the lip of his carapace. 

With his daemon already smothered in love, Leo leans into Mikey’s hug immediately, none of that new reluctance they’re all trying to maneuver present in any inch of him. That’s how you game the system. 

(April was surprised by it when they first met. She was nine years old at the time, and absolutely fearless about following her new friends to their subterranean home. She greeted Splinter with the brisk, unbothered attitude of any native New Yorker and was an order of magnitude more impressed by Yumemi, who landed on August’s head in greeting as gently and prettily as a snowflake. 

Mikey had been pretty sure that nothing on earth had the power to surprise this girl. 

But less than an hour into her visit, Terror had gotten into trouble, as usual. She was scampering up the cabinets as a red-knee tarantula, because she’d made a bet with Lucky that she was just as fast climbing as she was flying. But when she was little, Terror tripped over her feet constantly no matter what form she was in, and eight legs was way more than she was used to keeping track of.

A panicked little squeak was their only warning when Terror slipped from the top of the cabinet, and maybe she would have thought to shift in time not to get hurt or maybe she would have kept scrambling to catch herself. It didn’t matter either way, because Raph reached out with both hands and caught her in the cup of them, safe and sound. 

April had sucked in a startled breath, but the twins and their daemons all chorused, “Thanks, Raphie!” as he stood on tiptoe to place Castor carefully back in the spot she’d slipped from. And the spider raced off again, lesson totally unlearned. 

“It’s okay, she won’t fall again,” Mikey had piped up, six years old and completely misunderstanding April’s reaction. “Terror is super clumsy but after their game she’ll probably turn back into something that flies!”

“It’s not that,” April said, looking between Raph and Mikey and Teddy and Sunflower like she had just discovered something besides their green skin and turtle shells that made them very strange to her. “Didn’t it—feel bad? To hold someone else’s daemon?”

She hugged Augustus to her stomach like the thought of anyone getting too close to him was enough to upset her. 

But Raph tilted his head in confusion and Teddy, a fluffy baby cow at the time, tilted hers with him. “It felt the same as holding mine,” he said. 

Any silly scampering part of Donnie was a part of Raph, too. Obviously. 

They hadn’t known it was anything strange growing up, as insular as their family was. Of course, they hadn’t known about their ninpo back then, either—that secret mystical connection they inherited the second Splinter became their father, that tied them all together, that made their souls neighbors to each other. 

And only a few years down the road, on a random summer afternoon in a busy comic book convention hall, when the big crowds were causing Teddy to shrink into a miserable little ball on Raph’s shoulder, April would say, “Come here, baby.” 

She wouldn’t overthink it or second-guess herself when Theodora crawled into her arms, even though a random kid in the crowd who clocked the exchange would do a comical double take. She would just scoop her little sister up and make her feel safe, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Because by then, April would be Hamato, too.)

While Leo’s occupied, Terror hops across the table and dips her beak into his cup. He clocks it and sighs deeply but doesn’t wave her away. 

Terror can get away with most things by virtue of being able to out-talk literally anyone, or by simply flying around like a maniac until her siblings get tired of trying to scold her and move onto damage control instead. 

“It’s not my fault your coffee tastes better,” she complains, feathers ruffled. “Donnie’s still trying to pretend like he likes to drink his black, and it’s gross!”

Sunflower laughs out loud, then tries to pretend like she didn’t. Donnie’s head snaps up from where he had it buried in his phone, an expression of theatrical betrayal painted across his face. 

“Castor!”

“Buy my silence! Use some syrup and creamer!” the hooded crow screeches back. 

Leo is giggling too, slumping down in his chair so he won’t be Donnie’s next target, and Pollux springs from Mikey’s shell on his way past the table to rejoin her person. She has her own little cup of coffee but she dips her weasel-like snout into Leo’s instead, because whatever Terror does, Lucky wants to do. 

“Good morning, Michelangelo,” a melodious voice greets him as he ties his apron on. 

Mikey beams at the little moth perched on the upright handle of a wooden spoon and says, “‘Morning, Emi. Did either of those bozos make you tea yet?”

The moth hums, an amused, affectionate sound. “Yes, my dear. They’ve been awake for an unfortunately long time already.”

“Ugh, that’s what I was afraid of,” Mikey grumbles, but his heart isn’t really in it. There’s no sunlight in the lair, but the company of his dad’s daemon is warm and bright all on its own. 

Yumemi is all the parts of Yoshi he doesn’t know how to express. Even back when his bad days could turn into bad weeks and he couldn’t muster the strength to get out of bed, his children never had the opportunity to question his love.

Not when Yumemi remembered all of their favorite things, and oversaw meals with watchful eyes to make sure everyone was eating their vegetables, and woke them from bad dreams with lullaby soft Japanese that needed no translation. 

Of course dad loved them. His soul was proof. She told them every day. 

Since he’d prepared the batter the night before, Mikey makes a decent headway on breakfast and has a tall stack of thin, flaky crêpes to show for it by the time Raph and Theodora wander in. 

They look surprised and then pleased to see everybody waiting for them, smiling at the lively chorus of “good morning”s and “happy birthday”s they’re accosted with right out of the gate. Terror is quick to flap around them at speed, talking a mile a minute, and it detracts from the weird bit of tension between Raph and Leo that still exists in the margins. 

Lucky quivers eagerly where she’s perched at the corner of the table, uncertain of her welcome and waiting on a cue. But the second Raph puts his hands out for her, she’s leaping into them. 

“Happy birthday Raphie, Teddy! We picked out the best best best presents for you!”

“We helped!” Terror interjects, incapable of being sidelined, or silent for longer than thirty seconds. “It was a team effort!”

“With all four of your heads together, I bet it’ll blow us away,” Raph says, gentle in that particular way he saves just for little siblings. 

To his credit, he doesn’t hesitate at all to pull Leo into a sidelong hug at the same time as he does Donnie in the opposite arm, and Leo sinks into it readily. Things have been a little weird and different, but not necessarily bad. 

When you can hold each other’s hearts in your hands on the regular, it’s hard to miss how loved you are. 

(About a week after Splinter’s abrupt announcement two years ago, shifting the leadership mantle from Raph, who had always held it, to Leo, who had never given indication he even wanted it, things were tense, to say the very least. 

Yumemi was downright chilly with her other half in a way Mikey hadn’t witnessed since the disastrous flu incident when they were kids, that time Donnie’s fever had to officially break 101° before Splinter could be convinced that Something Was Wrong.  

And unfortunately for dad, Leo had decided he was fully not on board with the decision, being his most contrary, uncooperative self at every turn. You have never seen malicious compliance until you’ve seen Leonardo with a point to prove. 

It all came to a head in a big blowout argument that really everyone should have seen coming. 

Looking back, Mikey doesn’t remember what started the fight, but it had been festering for days. Raphael was frustrated and his feelings were hurt. He’s been replaced out of nowhere, and his replacement didn’t seem to care about the job one way or another. 

And to make matters worse, Leo almost seemed to be baiting him. He had his arms folded and his hip propped in the doorway, a mean little smile on his face that Mikey almost didn’t recognize—he had never, ever seen Leo smile like that at Raph before. 

“Can’t you take something seriously for once in your life?” Raph said, fists clenched at his sides. “This is important and you’re acting like you don’t even care.”

“I think it’s safe to say you care enough for both of us,” Leo replied blithely, unmoved. 

Mikey felt a sharp spike of worry from Sunflower, who was reading all the high emotions in the room like a book. Teddy was still trying to mediate, but her soft voice got shouted over. 

“What if you goof off and one of your siblings gets hurt, huh?” Raph yelled, at his limit. “What if somebody gets killed cause you couldn’t bother to just grow up!”

Leo’s expression didn’t change at all, every inch the irreverent, unbothered teenager fully prepared to breeze past everything his big brother had to throw at him. 

But Lucky burst into tears. 

It drew everyone up short. The entire room just froze, like someone took an ill-timed screenshot. The only sound was Lucky crying, and then the scrabble of nails on concrete as Sunny raced across the room at top speed to comfort her, and Terror clicking her beat anxiously, all puffed up to twice her size. 

Raph looked like someone punched him in the stomach. Leo didn’t look at anyone at all. At least his mean little smile was gone. 

“Okay, boys and girls,” Yumemi said suddenly, startling them all out of the tense tableau. She was perched on the back of a kitchen chair, having observed the argument for who knew how long. Long enough, probably. “Family room, now.”

She was using the no-nonsense mom voice that got everyone moving. Seemingly between one blink and the next Mikey found himself on the sofa, Sunflower pressed into his side and panting anxiously. 

“I won’t pretend not to know what this is about,” the moth says. “Yoshi has certainly spent the last few days hoping it would resolve itself before intervention was necessary, but that clearly isn’t the case, and I’ve let this go on for too long.”

She wasn’t scolding them. She had a soft spot for her turtles and their daemons that was a mile wide on all sides. But she clearly expected to resolve this issue right then and there and wouldn’t tolerate the usual time-wasting tactics. 

Beating everyone to the punch, Terror bated her wings and blurted, “They don’t want to be the leaders, duh.”

After a beat of silence that felt extremely loud, Donnie added, “I would have thought that was obvious.”

Raph seemed shocked and Mikey felt that way too. Their whole lives together were a multi-part series of Leo stepping up and smoothing things over when they got out of hand, convincing his brothers to wait half a second instead of diving right in, scheming a way to get them out of trouble—or into trouble, as the situation called for it. He always seemed to live for it when a plan went off without a hitch. 

Mikey had never thought about it before, but now that it was laid out in front of him, it was weird. You’d think Leo would jump at the chance to lead. 

“It’s not really my bag,” Leo said instead. He had a hand on Pollux, almost hiding her completely. “All that extra work and responsibility, and not even a decent pay raise? No thanks. Besides, Raph does a great job. Why fix what isn’t broken?”

He refused to bend, sticking to his story. Knowing she was the weaker link, Lucky pressed her face into his plastron and wouldn’t answer any direct questions. Raphael looked like he was afraid to even breathe too loudly in their direction after making his littlest sister cry, and nodded rapidly when Yumemi asked if he was alright with things going back to the way they used to be. 

“Yeah. Of course. Whatever—whatever’s best.”

The moth sighed, but not at any of them. 

“Very well. I will speak with your father. He was wrong to handle this the way he did. Any future changes will be discussed beforehand, as a family. As for right now, Raphael is the eldest and he will continue to lead you.” 

Leo was out of his chair and out of the room so fast that Mikey wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t teleport. Donnie followed right behind him, their regular roles flipped. Raph didn’t move at all, hands squished between his own knees as if he didn’t trust them. 

Teddy was talking to him in her gentle voice. It was always so obvious to everyone who knew him why Raph’s soul took the shape it did, this soft thing that carried around a love so big it was better suited to someone ten times her size. 

Mikey couldn’t hear what Teddy was saying, but it wasn’t for him to hear in the first place. He couldn’t bear to leave his big brother like this, but he couldn’t bear to leave another brother hurting out of sight either.

Their bond pulsing both ways with white-hot worry and impatient, leaping love, Mikey could tell when Sunflower absolutely couldn’t wait another second. She hopped off the couch and circled around to where Raph was sitting and laid her head on his knee. 

It was delayed, but still a knee-jerk reaction for their biggest brother to give her the attention she was begging for. After a few minutes of petting her soft glossy fur, it was Raphie’s turn to cry. 

Lingering, still not entirely willing to leave them and feeling torn in two about it, Mikey looked at Yumemi. The moth waved her antennae at him gently, an unspoken assurance that she would stay and make things right. 

So Mikey left his heart behind to work her magic, and followed the twins from the room to work some magic of his own. If he could wheedle at least one smile out of each of them by dinner, he would call it a win. 

That evening, when everyone had been dragged to the table not quite kicking and screaming but close to it, Splinter stood up awkwardly and apologized to the far wall for how he had handled the situation. From his expression, Mikey wouldn’t have been that surprised to find someone holding a gun to his head. 

“The important thing is that you are a team,” Splinter went on, the formal stiffness fading from his tone and something more natural, more rueful and affectionate, replacing it. “You have always been a team, and a very good one at that.” 

Yumemi fluttered from the table to his hand, wings opening and closing slowly in approval. Splinter took strength from her, and added, “It does not matter who leads and who follows, as long as you remain on each other’s side.”

Leo darted a quick, sidelong look at Raph, who met his gaze hopefully. Some line of tension in Leo’s shoulders went slack and he said, “Where else would we be?” and smiled as easily as if the last handful of hours had happened to somebody else. 

Forever the more honest of the two, Lucky crept across the table inch by inch until Teddy could draw her into a tight hug that lasted well into dessert.)

Now Sunflower hops down from her padded bench and scrabbles like crazy around the counter for Raph’s attention. She’s such a good girl for waiting when all she ever wants to do all the time is run right to the people she loves as soon as she sees them. 

Raph scoops her up as easily as April can scoop up August, a full size Border Collie dwarfed in his big arms. She shrieks gleefully and bellows “Happy birthday!” loud enough for all of Manhattan to hear. Mikey smiles as if her joy is his own and carefully flips the next crêpe. 

“What do you want to do after the party tonight?” Donnie asks, setting his phone down. “The world is your oyster, Raphala.”

“But no patrol,” Terror pipes up. “It’s an important holiday.”

“It is an important holiday,” Sunflower agrees, tilting her head to the side so deeply that her floppy ear matches the upstanding one. “So are we going to the arcade? The movies? The park? New Jersey??”

“Hey, watch your language,” Leo says faux-sternly, causing her to yip with laughter. 

“I was thinking ninja tag,” Raph says. He crosses the room to Mikey as he speaks, and wraps both arms around him from behind to lift him off his feet in a big bear hug, spatula and skillet still in hand. Mikey giggles and holds breakfast as steady as he can. “We haven’t done that in ages,” Raphael adds. 

It’s an activity that rides the thin line between training and play, but if that’s what Raphie wants to do on his birthday, then that’s what they’re doing. Leo falls in line now as agreeably as he did two years ago—maybe even moreso. There’s some whining and complaining when the situation calls for it, but no more than any of the others are prone to; average annoying little sibling stuff because it’s good for Raph’s constitution. 

Mikey thinks the biggest difference is that Leo doesn’t really suggest his own ideas anymore. He doesn’t test Raphael’s authority the way he used to, even when sometimes they could really use his voice of reason or his lateral thinking. He so adamantly does not want to lead them, for whatever reason, that he won’t do anything that might give someone the right idea he’s leadership material. 

It’s something Mikey desperately wants to bring up, but every time he starts to, he can’t help but remember that uncomfortable family meeting and at that point his courage always deserts him. 

The last thing he wants is for Lucky, that easily hurt part of Leon’s heart that walks around unguarded outside his body, to feel small or sad because of something Mikey said. He doesn’t know if he’d ever recover from that. He doesn’t know how Raph did it. 

Two years ago, Leo would have thrown up his hands and said something like, “Ninja tag? For your eighteenth birthday? Come on Raph-a-doodle, think big! We’re hitting the Cheesecake Factory and then your favorite karaoke club. We can play ninja on the way home, how about that?”

Today, Leo stretches his arms above his head and then folds them, leaning back in his seat and telling Raph in his good-natured teasing kind of way, “Whatever you say, big guy. But don’t think I’m gonna let you win just ‘cause it’s your day.” 

It’s a change you have to squint to see. But Sunflower told Mikey in a whisper one night that she missed how playful Pollux used to be. She missed the little ringtail who used to want to be everyone’s friend and solve everyone’s problems, who used to run around in circles trying to be helpful and good, never worrying about making herself a nuisance because she knew better than to think her family would love her any less for it. 

“Maybe she’s just growing up,” Mikey had whispered back, stroking Sunny’s soft ears and ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach his own words put there. 

“Maybe,” Sunflower said, but she didn’t sound very sure either. 

[twstjam]

a/n: Breaking news!!! local fic writer realises she can write whatever tf she wants and did just that. Have this one-shot based off that one scene from httyd where Astrid and Toothless almost killed each other protecting Hiccup when they met for the first time but with Ace and Deuce, Malleus, and Yuu(you). I actually wanted to write something like this for a later chapter of "This will be the death of me" but I got impatient so. Consider this an indirect continuation of "This will be the death of me Part 1" maybe?? Word count: 867

----

Everyone who knew the infamous trio of Heartslabyul would say that you're the most rational one. Ace was a mischievous trickster and Deuce was well-meaning but temperamental with not as much brain as he had brawn, so you're usually the one playing the mediator or guiding your group onto the safe(r) path.

So when Ace and Deuce tailed after you as you wandered away from camp again to most definitely not forage for berries, the last thing they expected was for you to be cuddling up with the void itself.

Ace and Deuce weren't the sharpest tools in the shed, but they reacted like any person would upon seeing their fellow idiot friend in the clutches of death.

"Get down!"

A flash of magic shot from Deuce's magic pen. It bounced harmlessly off the dragon's hide, but it was caught off-guard and the force of the blast caused it to stagger. The distraction allowed Ace to jump in and drag you down to the ground with him to cover you from any attacks.

Upon being startled, the dragon reared up, long neck stretching out to lift its massive, horned head and bare its razor-sharp teeth. Its black wings spread and seemed to shroud the entire forest in darkness as they stretched to their full length.

The creature's roar was ear-splitting, not unlike the thunder that rumbled in the previously clear sky. While you lay dazed on the ground, Ace was quick to get back on his feet and stand between you and the angry beast.

"Run!" he screamed. Ace and Deuce raised their magical pens. The winged beast narrowed its glowing green gaze before lunging—

"No!" You sprang to your feet and forcefully pulled your friends behind you, narrowly saving them from being torn to shreds by a thousand pounds of rampaging dragon. They both fell to the ground with surprised yells, magic pens scattering as you scrambled to placate the dragon throwing a hissy fit.

"It's okay, it's okay!" you rushed out as you held your arms up. You pushed the dragon back when it tried to move past you and Ace and Deuce gaped incredulously as you somehow wrestled it back from snapping them up in its jaws. "They're my friends."

To your friends' utter bewilderment, you held the dragon's head close and began to stroke its scaly snout. The creature continued to growl, its green eyes ablaze with fury, but it leaned its weight against you instead of lunging forward again.

"You guys scared him," you grunted, fighting with your own weight against the dragon when it ducked its head forward with a snarl.

"We scared him?!" Ace sputtered incredulously as he and Deuce stumbled back to their feet. They tensed simultaneously when the dragon hissed and green sparks jumped out of its mouth. "You're kidding, right?!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there," you said in the most calming tone you could muster to the oversized lizard in your arms despite your heart beating out of your chest. "Calm down. It's okay, Tsunotarou—"

"Tsuno—What?" Deuce spluttered.

"You call that… thing… Tsunotarou?!"

"Ace, I'm trying to save you guys from becoming dragon chow. I'd appreciate it if you didn't—" You huffed as you pulled "Tsunotarou" back down when it—he—tried to rear up again. "—If you tried to make yourselves at least slightly less tempting snacks??"

Ace opened his mouth to say some sort of retort, probably something along the lines of "What the fuck are you even doing hanging out with a dragon in the first place?!" but the aforementioned dragon huffed smoke out its nostrils agitatedly and he backed down. Deuce stepped in front of him, holding his arm out protectively as if it might do any good against a literal living flamethrower, but if he wanted to be the first in the direct line of fire Ace wasn't one to argue.

"Er—Sorry?" Deuce said sheepishly. The dragon narrowed his gaze and he added a, "Um—Sorry… sir?"

The dragon, even with his face that's layered with stiff armored plating, somehow managed to look unimpressed, but he seemed satisfied as he relaxed more against you. His wary eyes still remained on the boys though.

"Okay, I think we all got off on the wrong foot here," you said, as if almost getting mauled by a dragon was comparable to "getting off on the wrong foot". "Ace, Deuce; this is Tsunotarou. Tsunotarou, Ace and Deuce."

The dragon huffed as if in greeting, but it was far from friendly. The only person he seemed to approve the presence of was you, who he continued to lean his massive head against. His spiny tail curled around your feet protectively which was all kinds of ridiculous for obvious reasons.

"Nice to meet you…?" Deuce said with a strained polite smile. Internally, both you and Ace commended him for trying.

"Yeah, we're real charmed," Ace added as he eyed the great big dragon practically snuggling up to you. "First of all: What the Hell man?! Second: How in the Seven's names did you get chummy with a fucking dragon?"

You smiled at him sheepishly as you hugged the massive snout nuzzling your neck.

"Ha ha… Funny story…"

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Chapter One: A Lightfury’s Guide to Stealing A Dragon Rider

Pairing: Hiccup 'Horrendous’ Haddock III x fem!oc

Word count: 3.1k

Chapter Summary: When a destroyed fleet of dragon hunter ships wash up at Dragon’s Edge, with all that is left behind are white scales and scorch marks, it leaves some questions to be raised within the dragon riders and what could have caused this. On the other side of the archipelago, a girl that appears and disappears at Northern Markets makes her presence known, planning to stick around until the heat calms down.

Overall Summary: A mysterious new dragon rider has been starting to make their presence known by tearing through dragon hunter ships and leaving nothing in their wake. What dragon they ride is unknown. What they look like is unknown. Why they are hunting the dragon hunters is unknown. The only thing that is known is that they will stop at nothing to destroy every dragon hunter ship at any cost.

N/A: Make sure you check out the prologue for this series! I feel like near the end of the chapter it sort of goes off the rails a bit. Hope you enjoy :D

*Art and gif is not mine.

Hiccup started his day like any other; waking up relatively early–at least earlier than the twins or Snotlout–and getting Toothless for a morning flight, usually to be met with Astrid as she finishes her rounds of the island, insisting she does a sweep of the island to make sure no hunters had found their way onto the beaches.

Toothless was already awake and bounding around Hiccup’s hut. His teeth were retracted as he watched Hiccup stir awake.

Not waiting for his rider to fully wake, Toothless jumped onto the bed, shaking it as Hiccup startled awake, trying to sit upright only to knock his head into Toothless’ snout. A disgruntled groan left the dragon at the contact.

“Sorry bud,” Hiccup began to say, cutting himself off as the grumbled scorn from Toothless. “What's got you so rowdy this morning?”

A gargling noise rang out from Toothless, flashing his gums before hopping off of Hiccup and his bed before jumping towards the hut’s door, large steps shaking the wooden beams the hut is balanced on. With the rustling from behind, Toothless looked back with a toothless smile to find Hiccup slowly awaking from bed, getting ready for the day on the Edge ahead of him.

“Alright bud, I’m on my way. Don’t worry,” Hiccup muttered with a yawn as he paced after the Nightfury. A steady hand landed on Toothless’ head, pushing him back a few paces so he could push open the door. The sun had started to rise by now, nearly set high enough to commence breakfast. Toothless raced forward, bumping Hiccup with his tail and causing him to stumble forward, a laugh rolling in his chest. “Perfect morning for a flight, isn’t it?”

Before Toothless could rumble a reply, Stormfly came barreling up, Astrid sat on her back as she stared worriedly at Hiccup. “Hiccup, there’s something you're going to want to see,” She announced upon her arrival, causing Hiccup to stumble out of his hut a couple of steps faster.

“What is it?” He hurriedly asked, resting a hand on Toothless’s head, ready to mount his back at any given second to follow after Astrid.

“I think it would be better if you took a look for yourself,” She called out, head flicking around to look down at the docks she and the other dragon riders had built when they first started working on building the Edge.

Hiccup didn’t have to be told twice.

Before Astrid could blink, Hiccup and Toothless were already in the air and flying towards her. His eyes hadn’t yet locked on where Astrid had come from, waiting for her guidance to lead him.

The two of them were in the air for only a few seconds, a quick glide down before their dragon’s claws were touching down on the wooden planks that made up their docks. That was when Hiccup was finally able to see what had Astrid so spooked.

In front of them was a fleet of half-destroyed ships.

Each ship had a number of scorch marks that plunged through the wooden decks, the sails that had the dragon hunter crest torn to shreds. Most of the ships also had discarded weapons and helmets, left behind by the hunters that had sailed on these ships. But something stuck out on one of the ships, the largest out of the lot. There was a variety of cuts and indents in the ship, looking to be placed there by a sword or some other kind of weapon, perhaps claw marks along with a few scales white as snow scattered around the destroyed ship.

“Astrid… what do you think could have done this?” Hiccup questioned, his head whirling around to face Astrid only to find the blonde girl staring hauntedly at the ship graveyard.

“More like who.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

"Ah, if it isn't my favourite customer from beyond the archipelago," A middle-aged man boasts as he sees a young woman walking up to his stall in the Northern Markets, his arms spread wide and a yellowing smile. His loud comments forced many heads to turn as Sindri was one of the best weapons traders within the isle, the man always having something to please any form of customer.

A dry chuckle escapes the girl as she steps up to the stall countertop, her boots digging into the muddy floor as she rests one of her gloved hands on the counter. "You should stop spoiling me with the praises Sindri," She says with a grin, her eyes briefly scanning over the items the man had on display for the day. “Your words might start to get to my head after all.”

"Maybe I'm just trying to make sure I get into Valhalla when my time comes," He says with a booming grin, leaving his prior task behind as he walks up to the girl. "I do after all need a Valkyrie to take me there. Your ego is free to inflate as much as you wish," He comments smugly, wiggling his eyebrows at the girl as he stops in front of her.

"Just because the name Valkyrie belongs to me it doesn't mean I will be flying you anywhere in the afterlife," She chides the man loosely. "And besides, you need to die in battle to be sent there. I don't think selling these weapons counts as so," She says amused at the slight drop in the man's shoulders.

"You might be right there," The man comments, an eyebrow being raised by the girl across from him in question at the might part. "So, what can I help you with today? It's been a while since your last visit to the Northern Markets," Sindri asks, both his hands leaning on the countertop as he waits for the girl across from him's request.

Valkyrie absently looks around the stall, staring at the many weapons discarded around the wooden crates and countertops. "Do you have any more of those Hideous Zippleback exploding boxes? The ones where the gas pours out of it until it gets lit," She asked, going into explanation since she knew that wasn't the name Sindri had given her when he first sold the items to her, and that exploding boxes could be quite vague.

"Of course, I have those in stock! I make them myself, remember?" He asks, grinning wildly as he bends down to reach for something hidden in a crate. Pulling out seven rectangular-like boxes, all made from vast metals and wood. He places them on the counter just in front of the girl’s hands. "Now, Valkyrie, these are the last ones I have in stock since you keep forgetting to bring the empty ones back to me." He says with a slight scold to his words.

"So there worth a pretty penny?" Valkyrie asks, staring up at Sindri slightly sheepish and with her shoulders bunching to her ears as she raises a brow in question, both palms facing up in front of her.

"Precisely," Sindri says with a sharp nod. "Now, I'm willing to trade them off for something, but if not, I'm going to need about two bags worth," He states, his face losing most of its joy as he goes into trader mode, making sure he gets the best deal for himself.

"Two bags?" Valkyrie questions with a huff of air, picking up one of the canisters loosely. When a hum of agreement leaves Sindri, Valkyrie places it down on the countertop rather harshly. "And here I thought I was your favourite customer," She says slightly dejected, pulling out a small pouch of coins from her waist. "How about this? I give you half of this, and the next time I sail in, I'll bring you two double-edged axes?" She offers, loosening the string that was keeping the pouch sealed and flashing Sindri a toothy smile.

Sindri's eyes narrowed at the girl, one of his fists balling as he study's her for a long moment. An air of silence dragged on between the two of them before he came to his final decision. "How do I know you’re not just going to fly off and never return?" He questions with a glower, an opening statement for something further.

A fake mortified gasp escapes Valkyrie's lips as she brings her hands up, resting them on her chest. "You wound me Sindri," She states, closing her eyes like she was crying. Bringing a hand up to wipe at a nonexistent tear, she says, "And here I thought we have built some trust up over the years."

The man across from her rolled his eyes with a huff before he shook his head with a grin stretching across his face. "I’d be in safer hands while wrestling with a Nightfury than putting any trust in you. But fine, I'll take you up on that deal," He mutters. His agreement got a crooked grin slipping onto Valkyrie's face as she raised her chin slightly in accomplishment. "But if you don't return in two moons, I'll be putting a bounty on your head."

The thing with Sindri is that he totally would, which only made Valkyrie grin more. "I'll be back in three then," She said, emptying half of her coin pouch onto the countertop as she pulled another brown bag from her waist. This time the bag was empty, and a lot bigger than the last as she started to load the Hideous Zippleback gas canisters into her bag.

Sindri only looked slightly amused at her words as he tested each of the coins, roughly gauging how much each of them weighed. Valkyrie attached the bag of items back to her hip as he did this, waiting until he had finished the task and put them into his own pouch. "Is there anything else you might need before you vanish without a trace again?" He questions.

"I think this is all I need for the moment," Valkyrie says, her eyes going distant as she racks her brain for any other possible items she could need for the next following days. She couldn't picture any dire situations arising where she would have to prepare for, everything already thought out in her own mind as they had repeated this process a number of times. The only reason she was buying the Zippleback gas was because she would be going in solo and she would be dealing with a larger number the usual.

Sindri gave her a sad nod. "I'll see you next time you decide to grace the aisle with your presence." He comments, lighting up with a grin before he is turning to a new customer—or maybe it was the person he abandoned to talk to Valkyrie.

Turning away from the stall, Valkyrie begins her way back through the trading village. She kept her head high as she began to weave through the different stalls, a steady eye on anyone who decided to get too close for her liking.

A certain thing that came with the Northern Markets is that there is a large number of dragon hunters always running around getting weapons fixed or buying new custom traps to help them capture dragons that they would later sell to a select few from this very island. It never mattered how much she attempted to avoid them when on the island so she gave up long ago, accepting the fact there was no getting around it.

So when a certain hunter clad in dragon hide started to approach her, there was nothing Valkyrie could do except hide her finds and ready herself for conflict.

Keeping her head held up, she planned to walk past the man, keeping her eyes from the mace hanging at his hip where his hand was starting to itch for. But as she passed a hand shot out, fingers enclosing tightly around her upper arm. Valkyrie was instantly on the defence, a hand shooting to her hip where a broken down sword lay wrapped around her waist. With a hiss, Valkyrie spoke, “Can I help you?”

“Do I recognise ya?” The man spoke, spit flying from his mouth.

“I would hope not,” Valkyrie started. “Now, if you would be so kind as to get your filthy hand off of me, I would be glad to let you leave with all your limbs intact.”

The two stood off, neither being the first to back down. As Valkyrie’s hand slid forward, fingers wrapping around the loose handle of her broken-down sword, another hand came shooting out and wrapping around her shoulder. “Why don’t we all take it easy for a second.”

Turning to see who had spoken, Valkyrie’s eyes landed on a tall boy with auburn hair and pale green eyes. He didn’t look directly at Valkyrie, his eyes instead focused on the hunter that she had previously been threatening.

“Mind your own business boy. This doesn’t concern you,” The hunter spoke with a sneer, attempting to pull Valkyrie closer towards him but when Valkyrie didn’t budge, the hold that the boy had on her keeping her grounded, he let go.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Of course, this is between you and this helpless lady,” The boy said, releasing Valkyrie as he raises both hands in an act of surrender.

Valkyrie’s head whipped around to face the nameless boy, eyes wide with her top lip curling up. “Helpless?” Her voice rose an octave, once again her hand shooting down to where the handle of her sword rested.

The boy flashed Valkyrie a sideways glance with an almost pleading look on his face before he turned back to the hunter. “It’s just, I didn’t want to see anything break out when it was so clear that she wouldn’t be walking away as steady as she came in.”

The hunter pondered the boy’s words, face slowly starting to light up. “Aren’t you the chivalrous type?” The man huffed out before turning away, casting one last fleeting glance at Valkyrie before flashing his teeth and blending into the crowd and fleeing from Valkyrie’s sight.

Valkyrie glared at the man even long after he vanished from her sight. Only when she was sure he was gone did she turn to the nameless boy, putting an end to his stuttering responses as one of Valkyrie’s hands slammed into his chest. “I could have handled that myself,” She scorned, going in for a second shove where the boy’s hands mixed with hers, trying to deter their path. “And come on, a helpless lady who can’t fight her own battles? You couldn’t come up with a slightly more justifying cause?”

“It’s the first thing I could think of,” Came the strangled response from the boy, his grip tight as he stopped Valkyrie from pulling her hands away where she would most likely go in for another hit. “I didn’t exactly think of a plan when I came over.”

“You clearly didn’t think much if you had the bright idea to come over here in the first place,” Valkyrie snapped, tugging her hands free in a quick pull, making the unknown boy stumble and fall towards Valkyrie.

Valkyrie quickly raised her arms, bracing herself as the boy collided with her. A soft grunt escaped her lips at the close proximity of the two of them. “Uh hi?”

Valkyrie’s eyes narrowed at the boy’s words, their eyes meeting through the gaps in her arms. “Bye,” Valkyrie said in return, shoving the boy back one last time before turning on her heel, not caring for the startled yelp that came from the boy as she walked away. She told herself as she left, ready to disappear from the island and the views of the world once more, “I don’t have time for this.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” The boy called out after Valkyrie and said girl found herself gritting her teeth at the sound of hurried footsteps running after her. As the nameless boy came to her side, falling into step with her as they walked through the markets, he said, “I’m Hiccup by the way.”

“And I didn’t ask for that knowledge nor do I care for it,” Valkyrie said, earning a soft chuckle from Hiccup in return.

“Normally when someone gives you their name, there's an unspoken rule that you are meant to give it to them in return,” Hiccup said, gesturing loosely with his hands out in front of him, quickly drawing Valkyrie’s eyes to them and the leather cuffs wrapped around his wrists. “And, I mean, I did kind of save you from a fight with a dragon hunter.”

“Something which I didn’t ask you to do,” Valkyrie stated. But at the sight of Hiccup's dejected face, one of his hands bounding up to scratch the back of his neck, Valkyrie find herself speaking without her conscious permission. Turning her head straight and keeping her eyes off the other boy she said, “But if you must know, my name is Valkyrie.”

“Like one of Odin’s warriors?” Hiccup quickly questioned, his face lighting up as he put two and two together.

“Yes, like Odion’s warriors,” Valkyrie muttered, shaking her head as she answered the common question aimed her way once she revealed her namesake.

“Did your parents know you would be just as fierce as a Valkyrie when choosing a name for you?” Hiccup asked another question, seeming to have several more lined up for her to answer.

“More like vicious,” Valkyrie commented. “And I think they trained it into me when I was younger. Had to look at the world as a proper Viking one way or another.”

HIccup’s thick brows furrowed but he chose not to say anything. “What brings you the Nothern Markets?” He tracked back, changing the topic quickly. Before Valkyrie could say anything, Hiccup's head swivelled to the side, something catching his attention from another stall. Valkyrie was about to use these few seconds of distraction to slip away when Hiccup's head came swirling back towards her, large green eyes staring at her expectedly.

“Originally, before I got ambushed by two Vikings?” Valkyrie questioned, hiding a smile at the sheepish look that flickered over Hiccup's face first before a stubborn fierceness took over his eyes. Valkyrie quickly cut him off before he could once again go into why he had to help. “I came here for the same reason anyone else would. To trade and gather.”

Hiccup slowly nodded his head, wringing his arms back and forth and preparing to say something before a loud bang caught both of their attention, two heads of blonde hair fleeing from the scene. “Oh Thor, not those two,” Hiccup mumbled, dragging a hand down his face before looking back to Valkyrie. “You wouldn't be willing to wait here for me, would you?”

“No promises,” Valkyrie shrugged.

“Yeah,” A soft sigh escaped Hiccup's lips. “I didn’t think so.”

Prev | Next

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn into BG3 - Chapter 5

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 5: You awake to something unexpected in your tent, and Karlach joins the group!

Word count: 1.3K

You awake holding your pillow rather than resting your head on it.  The early morning light is soft within the confines of your tent, world tinted blue due to the thin nature of the fabric used to protect you.  You yawn and roll onto your back—if you hadn’t been so tired last night you might have noticed how horrendously uncomfortable the ground was compared to a bed.  You noticed it now, even with the bedroll.

Outside your tent is quiet, perhaps too early for the others to wake.  You’d heard them return late last night if only by Karlach’s laughter and Tav shushing her, but still laughing himself.  You hug the pillow to your chest and roll onto your other side to come face to face with a snout and protruding tusks.  You yelp and skuttle backwards, pillow held out before you as your only means of protection against the…boar?  A young boar, by the size of it, not quite a babe but not an adult either.  Still, from snout to tail it is nearly the length of your bedroll.  And there, right in its thick neck, are two little holes.  

It’s dead.  Completely drained of blood. 

Why in all the gods' names was the boar—the boar that Astarion kills—in your tent?!

Theories race through your mind:

Astarion didn’t quite kill the boar and it wandered into your tent to die.

Astarion brought it to your tent and killed it, because he secretly hates eating alone.

Astarion killed it elsewhere and planted it here to make it look like you killed it.

Astarion has nothing to do with this and you’re actually a vampire.  

You press your thumbs against your canines, finding them as they always were—not elongated or extra pointy like Astarion’s.

“What’s wrong?”  The flaps of your tent fly open as a dishevelled Tav jumps inside.  His eyes go over the area, taking in the boar and then you touching your teeth.  You quickly lower your hands.

“Please tell me this is a really unfunny prank,” you beg Tav.  He moves around you and squats by the boar, observing it closely.

The flaps of your tent fly open again and you’re met with possibly the loudest woman you’ve ever met.  

“Hey!  I told you it’s rude to just enter someone’s space without knocking.”  Karlach looks down at you, towering over you as you stay in the ground.  “Oh hells. Now I’ve done it!  Sorry.  I’m Karlach, joined up with your little crew last night.  I was gonna say hi but Gale insisted you needed your rest.”

You give her your name, raising your injured hand to wave.  It’s still a little tight when you flex your fingers, but there’s no pain. 

More uninvited guests arrive when Shadowheart and Astarion each lift a flap of your tent.  If it were possible you think Astarion pales even more at the sight of the boar.

“What’s going on?” Shadowheart questions.

“I’ve heard of being hungry enough to eat a horse but…”  Astarion recovers quickly.  

“I didn’t eat it,” you deny.  You look back at the beast.  “Or kill it.  I woke up and it was here.”

“These holes are strange.”  Tav takes everyone’s attention but his next question is directed at you.  “Do you know what could make them?”

You stutter words but can’t bring yourself to say “vampire”.  

“It looks like the work of a vampire,” Astarion announces,  coming to your rescue.  “Vicious creatures.  We should have someone keeping watch at night—I’ll take tonight so no need to worry.”

Tav nods but his curiosity doesn’t seem sated as he observes the boar.

“But why is it here?” you ask.  

“Looks like it walked in,” Karlach says.  She points to small indents in the fabric on the ground, places where a heavy weight sunk into the earth, exactly like hoof marks would.  They travel around your bedroll and out of the tent.  “There’s a few more outside.  Poor little guy…must have been looking for help.”

Your racing heart begins to calm.  Based on the initial surprise on Astarion’s face Karlach was right, but still.  You look at the dead creature, wondering if it really had just walked into your tent on its own.

Your hand is healed enough that you only need a small wrapping around your palm to keep it safe.  Wyll had done it for you, securing the white cloth with ease.  

“Can’t believe you would take an arrow for a goblin,” Karlach says as she watches.  “Between you and Wyll here we aren’t short on heroes.”

“Not a hero,” you tell her.

“That’s exactly what a hero says,” Karlach counters.  She’s just doing this to distract you from waking to a boar, you think.  But it’s working.  As the group discusses their plans for the day the fact that the boar wandered into your tent seems more and more plausible.  

“You should come with me to see Dammon!” Karlach suggests.  They’d already explained Karlach’s situation to you, fake paladins and all.  “Could use the moral support if I’m being honest.”

“Of course.”  You wanted to check on Arka, too.  You’d never been able to save her in the game, but maybe you could now.  There was never a definitive answer about her death, but if there was a chance you could stop it…

“Great!  Then it’s you and me while these guys have all the fun.”

You look at Tav, who’s talking with Shadowheart.  “What are you guys doing today?”

“Tracking down Halsin.”  Shadowheart eyes the bandage on your hand.  “Are you sure you should be going back to the grove after saving someone that tried to kill them all?”

“Aw,” you hum, “are you worried about me Shadowheart?  That’s so cute.”

The half-elf’s eyes widen as her cheeks darken with a blush.  “Just don’t go taking another arrow for a prisoner.”

You grin at her attitude, and the way she won’t meet your eyes now.

“I won’t,” you promise.  “Unless it’s for Astarion, we made a deal.”

After Dammon gives Karlach a tune up she’s ready to fight anything.  You thought she was going to run off to find the rest of the group if you hadn’t suggested checking around the grove for spies.  

Obviously you weren’t about to send her into the underground where the goblins (maybe) lay in wait, but she could probably handle a bugbear by herself.

And she does, easily.  You’re not even halfway up the hill to get to Nadira before Karlach is pulling her axe from its holster and swinging at the bugbear assassin.  It takes a couple hits before going down, dead at the feet of a proud one-horned tiefling.

Even without Tav some things can be triggered, it seems.  It’s more than a little concerning.

When Karlach is handed the soul coin as thanks you can feel a vibration in the air around it.  The thought of your own soul trapped in a coin makes you shiver.

As you start back down the hill you catch the faintest hint of sulphur.  Your head swivels as you look around, half expecting Raphael to appear but it’s only you and Karlach.

“Something wrong?” she asks when you stop.

Another glance at the grass and flowers around you shows no sign of the devil.  “No, I just thought I heard something.”

That sounds better than “thought I smelled something”.  There was already plenty to smell within the grove, plenty you’d like to not smell between the oxen and the bears.

But your anxiety didn’t leave until you mentioned to a couple of the druids you saw a tiefling boy heading to the beach beyond the grove and thought you heard singing.  They’d exchanged a worried glance before waving over two tiefling guards and heading off.

“You’re worried about singing?” Karlach asks on your way out.  

You think carefully before answering.  “Yeah.  Just…a bad feeling I guess.”

As you leave the grove you see Arka standing above the gate, crossbow in hand.  That was something you’d worry about later.  There was still time, after all.  And you’d have a better idea of how much time after Tav returned tonight.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt

[wolven91]

Red Flags

It wasn’t a word, so much a general shout that came from Keith’s mouth. His intention was to distract and get attention from the burly slaver, despite a healthy sense of self preservation telling him to keep hiding. 

He succeeded, the canid turned it’s head, spittle being flung from its bared teeth. The sight of its curled snout, v’s of flesh and short fur bringing forth the memories of rabid dogs and dangerous hunters. 

It leapt forward at him, but when Keith turned to run, his legs moved slowly, like he was wading through a waist high bog. 

He felt the claws dig into his back, slaicing him up, causing him to flinch and desperately try to arc himself to pull away. 

That was when he woke up. 

He didn’t sit bolt upright or break out in a sweat or wake gasping. 

Instead he laid there and let out a breath he was apparently holding. He reached underneath him and found one of his headphones had stuck itself to his lower back. The man grimaced as he put it on the bed side table with the other he retrieved from his ear. 

Two days ago, there had been a slaver attack. 

Since then his sleep was spotty at best, interspaced with dreams. It wasn’t always about the attack itself. Sometimes he was left behind somewhere, and no matter what he was always a second late to catch up with everyone else. 

Or he was being chased.

Or he was being hunted.

Keith sighed, still underneath the blanket. Anxiety dreams. 

The latest dream was the most vivid. He life, or at the very least his freedom had been saved thanks to a fik. The fik had launched itself at the canid slaver that was sniffing out his hiding place. But canid verses fik  in a one on one wasn’t a fair fight, so Keith had jumped up from behind a crate and shouted to get the canid’s attention. 

That was all the fik needed to jump over the creature’s head wrench the wolf-like alien’s head up and back down in a horrid, wet and loud ‘snap’. 

The fik, a massive brute, touched a clawed hand to her chest then had slunked away, the last thing Keith saw was the tip of her tail, but her smell; clean sawdust, lingered. The guards for the station found him only moments later. They said no fiks were on board the station and Keith ‘hysteria’ had caused him to imagine a saviour after he came upon the body. 

Keith sighed again, breathing in through his nose and intending to breath out through his mouth, trying to calm himself. He wasn’t due in work, but he felt lousy due to the poor sleep he’d been having. 

His eyes opened in the dark and sniffed again. 

Fresh sawdust. 

He glanced round the dark room. He was in secure quarters, moreso than before. A canid security team had become is honour guard and shadow. They occupied both the rooms above, below and each side of his. He was safe, no way anyone could get in without them knowing. 

But the shadows made strange shapes in the gloom. 

He had a pile of laundry on the back of chair, it looked like a geckin in the dark. 

He closed his eyes, sinking deeper into his bed and tried to calm himself. It was ‘just’ PTSD probably he tried to explain to himself. Just a panic attack, just a friendly old panic attack. You got this, calm down. 

“Calm down..” He whispered, barely audible to himself. “You’re safe. No one’s here. No one is going to hurt you…” He words were starting to toe the line of desperate in tone when the new voice spoke. 

“Wouldn’t allow it… Saaah…”

Keith’s eyes shot open, but he remained perfectly still. 

“Tk tk tk… Breathe?”

Keith remained still. He had no way of getting help besides screaming at the top of his voice. Would they even hear him?!

Something heavy landed on the bed. He was laying on his side, but could feel two points either side of him pulling the duvet tight. He stayed perfectly still, not daring it breathe at all. 

It straddled him, it was heavy and pushed his hips down into the large mattress until two large, padded and clawed hands grasped his head to gently, but surely turn him to face upwards. 

The brutish fik. Blood pounded in Keith’s ears, he couldn’t hear anything over it.

“Hai! If Hek tells you to breathe; Sah! You breathe!” She ordered, almost hissing. 

It was enough to snap Keith out of it, being told what to do and his mouth opened to gulp in much needed oxygen. One breath turned into two, then three. 

The fik released his face, but didn’t get off him. Keith slumped onto his back and stared up at her in the dark. The other day she had been in metal armour, studded with bolts and screws that gave her a ‘Mad Max’ vibe. 

Now it was all dark bandages that left nothing to the imagination. She had held herself wit the stereotypical fik hunch, but was still tall; tall enough to go toe to toe with a canid and hold them off. 

Without another word, she laid down ontop of Keith, forcing the air out of his lungs as her shoulders and head pressed him into the mattress, forcing him onto his back.

“W-what…?”

“Hai… Sleeping time. No talking.”

“You’re in my room?”

“Haai?” She drew out the word as if it was obvious.

“You’re not going to hurt me? Kidnap me?”

This got her head to raise back up, she was scowling. 

“Blackened night and creeping death; no.”

“Then why?”

She sighed and tilted her head. 

“Saah… You are not… Clever… Hai, very well. Yes yes.” She cleared her throat and almost began before reaching a clawed finger up towards Keith’s face. It touched his forehead and pressed forward. 

He hadn’t realised he’d raised his head and shoulders off the bed, but the relentless force of the finger pushed him back down into the pillows. 

“Stay.” She ordered. “Hek, that is me; yes yes?”

“You’re ‘Hek’?”

“Hai. Good boy. Hek was on station when attack, yes? Hek protect you, you protect Hek. Hek decide to watch over for time.”

“O-okay? But-” A clawed finger returned to press against his lips.

“Ah! Hek talking. Hek reward if good.”

Keith went quiet and the giant interloper continued. 

“Hek see Keeeeeith… No rest. Sleep bad. Yes.” She hissed in a negative fashion. “Unacceptable. Hek decide to help.”

“H-how?”

“Hek has seen this before. Terrible fight makes ghosts… spirits that haunt mind, yes? There is cure.”

“What’s the cure?”

“This.”

“What? What’s ‘this’?”

A sigh and the heavy body that pinned Keith squeezed him.

“Two guard, even if spirits slip within, two versus one is better, yes yes? Now. Sleep.”

Keith opened his mouth to speek but the finger returned.

“Hek willing to… ah… choke? Yes, choke you out… Speak no. Ah, no speak. Yes. Sleep.”

Keith blinked and went quiet, turning the situation over in his head. This fik had broken into his home and thrown herself on top of him. Yes she’d saved him, but this was more than a few red flags, this was the whole damn parade of the red army!

That was his last thought before he opened his eyes and it was mid-morning. 

He’d slept and not only that, other than being dehydrated, he felt… rested. 

The fik; was nowhere to be seen. Was it a dream? 

He touched his hand to the duvet, it was messy but no overt evidence. Until his leant down and sniffed it. Clean sawdust. 

“You’re here… aren’t you?” He mumbled, a touch over a whisper. 

“Hai.” Came a voice. He couldn’t tell where from. 

“I could call out.” He mentioned, turning at looking around the room. She was tall and broad, where the hell could she hide!?

“Hai.”

The threat was left dangling there… 

She was dangerous, it was stupid not to involve his guards… But… it WAS good sleep…

[r/WolvensStories]

[AO3]

[Ko-Fi]

[widowsofchaos]

𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬

summary: if Asgardian mead can transcend two super soldiers into three sheets in the wind, then is there Asgardian herb to send a smoker like you to Vallah? pairing: Thor x black!enhanced!reader (established/married relationship) ao3 warnings: herbal smoking, smut (porn with plot), and filthy use of astral projecting. a/n: Guardians of the Galaxy cameo, Rocket being a furry menace. New Asgard cameo. Valkyrie cameo. Just a self-indulgent piece on my love for Thor, and weed. For @canumoveurseatup-no​ cause we’re Thor and weed loving whores. This was finished way long ago, like way before MoM came out, so the writing style isn’t up to my liking. It was just a self-indulgent fix it, I guess.

“You’re really not going to share? Really?!”

Furry pointed ears flex agitatedly, tiny palms kneed into his eyes, claws dually scratching his furry face --- small paws stomp on the floor akin to a toddler, grieving as if the world is against him; on all floors as he bounces on the flooring, hunching over as he snarls in withdrawing agitation --- all for galactic weed.

A click of the tongue, “Look at him --- I told you it’s good.” Krog laughs as he packs handfuls of herb in the plastic bag, as the snarling scavenger twirls around his ankles. The rock-being stood frozen, in amusement to watch the tiny animal have a withdrawal, standing next to him is his Asgardian liege.

In his palm, marveling at the Asgardian herb that was glowing with golden streaks within the stems, luckily seeds were saved before the disaster of Asgard; now nurtured, and gardened in Norwegian soil.

“I am Groot.” The teenaged tree-being grunts, with his arms crossed against his chest. “He is a jerk!” Rocket shouts, his claws scratching the wooding; a high-pitched yelp emits from the unhinged raccoon.

“Oh hush --- you know he’s going to pack us some.” A green palm grabs Rocket by the vest, as he flails, his furry tail twirling; small teeth gnawing the air at the mere act of being man-handled.

A sweet low giggle, “You know he’s just teasing.” Gamora nestled Rocket between herself and Peter on the couch; Peter too engrossed in the newest gorey Mortal Kombat video game with Drax to even jab a joke or two.

Rocket nearly wails, head thrashing against the cushioning of the couch, “I need some now!” Never one to lose his composure, always snarky with his jokes, and remarks. Gamora shushes him once more, as she pats his head gently with her green fingertips.

Krog nudges Thor by the elbow, catching his attention. Handing Thor two massive bags of herbs, and blunts --- expertely. Years spent on Midgard, Krog took up a multitude of hobbies, and conveniently, one of them is rolling up.

“Two?! Look at those big bags!” Gamora shushes Rocket again, fingertips stroking the fur between his ears.

“Do not worry, you will get your fix.” Thor teases, jacket zipped, and ready to take his leave back to the States. Rocket grumbles, snout pouting, as Thor gives his goodbyes.

The brisk Norwegian air fans against his face, a nice reprieve on his skin. Stepping out of the bricked home, he basks in the scenery for a moment.

Catching his sight, perched against the wall of the house by her foot is Brunnhidle. Flickering on a light, igniting her joint, that clung between her lips. Thor hums, leaning on his hip, “How does it feel?”

She exhales a long puff of air, “Amazing. It’s been too long.” She gazes up at the sodden sky with blissful content. Cocking her head to her shoulder, her mirthful eyes catch his. Gesturing to him with the jut of her chin, “Taking some home to my wife?”

Thor playfully grumbles under his breath, “Yes,” he huffs. Brunnhilde breathes a chuckle, “Please, you will tell me how she’ll handle it.” It’s no secret Thor’s precious wife is a little pothead, and has been one of the loudest to hound for the special Asgardian herb.

The blunt that glows with streaks of gold within the twisted wrinkles of the paper is marveled between her fingers, blowing a gust of smoke, “You know she’s going to become a little crackhead for it.”

Thor belly laughs, “When is she not?”

---

Tiny snuffles breathe against your breast-bone --- soft plump cheeks, the slope of a button nose --- as heart-shaped baby lips suckle against the swelled tit; chubby fingers grip sweetly yet with youthful vigor the collar hem of your shirt, tugging it more under your breast.

The infant drinks his milk with joy, doe-eyes gleam at you with such wonder, and innocence, as your fingers fondle tenderly in his thick locks of hair.

Caressing his fuzzy dome, as he drank from you --- the fifth time today --- only five months old, yet already has an appetite that rivals his own father.

Cradling him in your arms, shoulder-blades leaning against the head-board --- supported by massive plush pillows --- pinching fingertips toys with his curls that springs back in shiny coils, his toes curling against the skin of your belly.

The nape of his small head is held by the crock of your elbow, dripples of milk seep from the corner of his mouth, wiping it by your finger, you coo at your son. “My baby boy, so hungry.” Chin to chest, as your lips featherly kiss against his temple; nuzzling the tip of your nose within his curls.

“Bjørn, ljúfi drengurinn minn. Líf mitt.” Bjørn, my boy. My life. The Icelandic language no longer fumbles from your tongue awkwardly --- like it did during the months of your pregnancy.

It was set in stone, a goal to learn the language that was closest to old Norse; an homage to your husband, and a catalyst for your son to grow up proud of his roots.

Bjørn Erik Odinson, born at 4:50 a.m, 8.8 pounds, skin as brown as shiny garnet, pudgy rolls adorning his arms, and legs, small toes that you love to munch on, just to hear his beautiful laugh.

Bjørn excitedly huffs, tit still in his mouth; snuggling him closer to your chest, you trace his pudgy cheek, the slope of his button nose.

You thank your God, and the Gods of all nine realms, for bestowing this fate. For your husband, for your baby, for your surrogate family --- it's everything you ever dreamt for.

A creak lingers near the doorway, your eyes dart upwards --- to catch Thor cheekily standing at the entrance; it’s comical how his bulky shoulders, and towering height just barely fit against the door-frame.

Also --- it’s eerie how a massive 200+ molded demigod that has the power over thunder can tread in silence --- when he wants to, usually he walks around in life as the embodiment of a golden retriever.

Out-stretching your open palm, fingers wiggling; Thor gets the hint, he walks happily towards you, a smile that stretches from ear to ear.

He belly-crawls upon the bed, on his arms, and knees; seeking out your warmth, as his arms circle around your midriff, kissing the small soles of Bjørn’s feet.

“I miss my little bear cub,” another kiss on his tippy toes, “And I’ve missed my queen.” His lips find the flesh of your tummy, an open-wet kiss; suckling the flesh. His lips trail your skin, to the pouch of your belly, a little remnant of your baby weight.

Bjørn’s small toes curl softly against Thor’s forehead, earning a chuckle from him. Thor nuzzles his nose against Bjørn’s under foot, the bridge of his nose wiggles under his small toes.

His milky fingers gently strokes the soft skin of his chubby leg, his blue gems staring adoringly at his son.

“So --- how’s my wife?” You breathe a snicker as Thor pinches the meat of your thigh playfully, earning a squeal from you.

“Brunnhilde is doing just wonderful.” Thor lazily smiles, laying his head back on your stomach. “New Asgard is thriving, and growing.” Thor nuzzles his face against your tummy, as Bjørn drinks from you.

There’s something weighing on your tongue, you’ve been waiting all day for this --- matter-of-fact, you’ve been waiting for months to finally experience the Asgardian high. You nudge your ankle at the arch of his back, Thor happily peers up at you.

“Did you get it?” Your eyes widen owlishly, with fervent yearning. Thor hums, the vibration tickles the slope to your navel, “My queen, you’re insatiable.”

His breath fans your skin, enticing you, you whine, “Thor.” Your ankles shuffle against his midriff, as he belly-laughs.

“Yes, yes.” He spoke through his chuckles, “I made sure to get it.” He kisses you once more.

---

“Thanks again for agreeing to watch him.” You spoke, as you held your son against your chest.

Bjørn’s small fist fondles your golden chain, his little snorts under his breath, you kiss his head with a nibble. “Of course, I just love Bjørn.” Wanda’s hands wiggle, gesturing in ‘gimme gimme’ with the biggest stretched smile, split from ear to ear. Cradling your son in her arms, fawning over him in glee.

“The boys can’t wait to see him, they just love to show Bjørn their toys.”

It was only natural for Bjørn’s godmother to baby-sit him.

Ever since Wanda got her sons, and husband Vision back --- through a turbulent journey of the multiverse where hundreds of different realities branch off from the original where you reside, where you found your brother-in-law alive, by the guiding hand of time-travel, learning the existence of variants, the Watcher above time and space, by the help of Dr. Strange, and his malice other-half, bumping into different Peters --- all whilst pregnant --- to the birth of your son; it’s been a tough long year.

It’s so much more to tell, but recounting in memories pains your brain, and rather rest from it. It’s over and done with, and now everyone can start anew once again.

Bjørn’s little arms encircle the slope of Wanda’s neck, as she nuzzles her face against his cheek.

Bjørn held lovingly against her chest, worries of separation eases itself in your chest --- separation anxiety has been riddling you intensely, if your son wasn’t latched on your chest, you were a wreck.

And so was he.

But this is needed, alone time with the love of your life --- and finally, oh yes finally, able to inhale the sweet Asgardian weed. It was brought up in conversation years ago, when three of your closest friends were alive, and well --- the memory of their happy faces floods tears in your eyes, you miss them dearly.

Rolling up blunts, Tony, Clint and yourself being the weed experts --- Tony was hounding Steve to take just one inhale, practically begging him; nudging the blunt near him.

Thor watched on in amusement.

Unprovoked, boasting in his tone, goblet pinched between his fingers, “On my planet, our herbs are much stronger.” And without such a glance upon you all, he gulps a hefty swallow of his mead, not one spared look.

Tony, and Clint frozen stiff in their seats, eyes widening as fish-eyes, as you stared at Thor agaped, your blunt falls on your lap, mouth hanging open.

“Excuse me, point break?”

“The Aryan Jesus has the nerve to hold out on us!”

“More like Judas!”

Thor chuckles as he gups down the last of his mead, turning his head to glance at all of you, “It’s more used for ceremonies.” Everybody snickers except for Tony, Clint and yourself; more of a jest towards all three of you.

“Darling,” You cut in, crawling on your hands and knees on the couch, nearing a smug Thor, “what are you talking about?” You began pawing at him as a cat.

Onyx painted tips gripping his massive biceps, “Baby, baby, baby---”slithering on his lap, “When were you going to tell me? Me. Of all people, me.”

Thor nearly went cross-eyed as his nose met yours, “You need to bring some---” everyone is crippling in laughter, as you climb on Thor as a little chimp on an oak tree.

It was a fun night, mostly with you badgering Thor to bring some weed back from his planet, with little teasing, ‘Just quickly go home, and come back with it.’ But Thor would shush you with his delicious lips, his arm looped around the nape of your neck, reminding you that the weed back home has become sparse, mostly harvested for special occasions, but he promised to bring some when he could.

Unfortunately, chains of events over the years prevented it from happening --- until now.

“See you later, my baby.” Bjørn giggled as you attacked his plump cheeks with kisses, but another set of lips kissed his curly dome; you felt him, towering over you, his crotch slowly growing for you. “My sweet boy.” Bjørn’s toothless smile gleams with such innocence, and pure happiness, with a little bob of his head against Wanda’s cradling palm.

It was hard for you to part from your son, especially for Thor, he had to compose himself, always wanting his son laying on his chest, caressing his plump cheeks, always carrying his son in his arms everywhere.

Both of you wave as Wanda leaves with your son, his diaper bag hanging at her shoulder --- just for one evening. He’ll be back later, you kept reminding Thor.

A shaky sigh leaves his lips, as the elevator closes, Wanda waves with Bjørn’s little chubby hand in hers.

Twirling on the soles of your feet, you place your open palms on his chest, shushing him. Thor’s eyes closed, his cavity nearly shattering, “It’s okay, baby. It won’t be long till our little cub is back. He’s not even sleeping over.” Standing on the tips of your toes, kissing his molded chest, his thick biceps encircle around your waist, lifting you up.

You kiss the tip of his nose, hugging the slope of his neck with your arms; as he rocks you back and forth.

---

“Are you ready, my love?”

A joint pinched between his fingertips, within the wrinkled twistings was fluorescent glimmers of rainbow colors --- its scent was potent, yet intoxicating. Just a small whiff of it is strong to your senses. Anxious hands try to paw at his wrist, but Thor holds it far from you, tsking you.

“Patience,” Thor muses, kissing your forehead, pacifying your huffs, softly stomping your foot. “You must inhale carefully. Please, my love.” His fingers cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb strokes your skin, you mewl.

“I promise.”

---

It’s idyllic.

It’s --- there’s no words to describe the high you’re experiencing. Time ceases, your skin prickles with goosebumps; you felt as if you were floating on your back. Laying down on the carpeted flooring, spread eagle, as Thor rests his head on your belly.

Splotches of colors paint the air, your tongue is delighted, as if you can taste the chromas. Soon the atmosphere shifted shade --- from calm dewy sunlight to a serene verdant cast upon the living space.

Gleaming through the ceiling high windows, daylight settles calmly; the atmosphere is soothing.

As if landing on another planet, you both star-gazing into the skies of a foregin galaxy.

Both of you frolicking around the empty compound, naked, tearing each other's clothes off, rolling around the carpeted floor; kissing, and dry humping.

It’s delirious, and you laugh, and he laughs --- you both can’t stop. Reality shifts into another plane of existence --- as if you left Earth.

“Thor, where are we?”

“In our own world, my love.” He hugs you, lifting you up in the air, melting into a field, the grass feels soft like the pillows back home. You can let go, a nether land; it’s amazing.

You look up to the sky, you can see the moon up close, yet far enough. Gazing upon it, you whisper “Thor, do you see that?” Pointing up at the sky, milky lavender with twinkling stars, it looks like the northern lights down on Earth.

A surge of emotions bloom in your chest, such deep love for Thor, for Bjørn, for life --- life, life, life. You’re alive, it’s okay to feel pain, feel everything life gives.

Is this a coming to Jesus moment?

“I love you.” You wail, tears fall down your cheeks, “Oh God, I love you.” You cry, a smile that makes your cheeks hurt, your hands on his chest, head falls back.

You look down to see Thor is crying too, but that toothy smile fades into a wrinkled frown; shushing him, hands on his cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby.” Kissing his nose, the crease between his brows, the slope of his nose, and his lips.

“Why are you crying?”

Thor cries like a baby, sputtering, “I love you so much. You’re so beautiful.” Overcome with emotions, rubbing his wet eyes with his hands, sniffling. As if a balm, you soothe him, small kisses on his quivering lips. Cocooning him in the warmth of your embrace, you lean your weight on him, holding onto him.

His massive biceps ensnare around your body, pinning you against him. He’s overwhelmed with love, his love for you, and Bjørn, the love for his brother --- he’s just so overcome with happiness, and yet it makes him cry.

Because of the pain that had to occur for this light.

---

“Slab that fucking butter on it, babe.” You slur, clumsily your tongue licks your dry lips, stomach rumbling hungrily, as Thor’s massive bear hands slather guabs of butter on the cherry frosted pop-tart.

Your cheek squishes against his bicep, droopily your eyes close, and open, unevenly one after the other.

It’s been an hour since Thor and you come down from your delirious high --- and soon, beastly appetites come crashing down.

Thor scruffs down the tart, as you stuff small chunks of strawberry treat into your mouth, the creamy butter melts in your mouth.

Thor leans down, licking crumbs from the corner of your mouth, his warm tongue lapping at your lips. You giggle, as he playfully nibbles at your cheek.

His thick arms encircle around your waist, pulling you to his chest, lifting you in the air effortlessly. Squealing, nose scrunching at his wet lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Totinos with M&Ms, the warmth of the totinos melted the chocolate, creating a delicious coating. Mouthfuls of junk food, with hooded eyes, and cheeks puffed as chipmunks. Giggling as little toddlers, sharing sloppy kisses, able to lick the gooey chocolate from his mouth; sucking on his tongue.

The kitchen counter is littered with open bags of chips, candy wrappers, and boxes of pizza squares. It’s a jungle of high carbs, and fattening sugar, but the intense munchies are astronomical.

“Wow.” Mobius chuckles at the kitchen’s entrance, arms crossed against his chest; a warm flick of a tongue at the shell of his ear jolts him. Arms encircle around Loki’s chin rests on the jut of his shoulder, “This is nothing new, my brother can feast as three horses.”

“And so can she.”

What a comical but endearing sight for Loki and Mobius to capture, coming back home from jet-riding in the compound’s lake.

The two lovers gawk with mirth in their eyes, watching you and Thor devour sugary snacks, concoctions of a mind-blowing haze. The lingering high makes your minds float, nuzzling your noses together, giggling.

---

Bellies full with junk food, giggles echo, and bounce in the air; the room smells heavily of herb. Your thigh is looped around Thor’s tummy, your arm sloped over his chest, as he holds you close with his thick bicep. Fingertips soft as petals caress his blonde chest hair, scratching him.

“My love,” your limbs stretched lazily, satisfied, and cozy; Thor purrs under your touch. Cradling you closer to his chest, practically laying on top of him.

A naughty thought lights up above your head, remembering the little idea you conjured up a few weeks ago, wanting to try with Thor.

“I have a surprise for my king.” You whisper against the base of his throat, a wet smooch. Thor hums, “And what is that, pussycat?” You giggle low, “My love, what would you do if there were two of me?”

A rumble of a growl vibrates inside his chest, “You know what I would do.” You purr, nibbling at his chest, “What would you do?” Breathy whispers, goading him, needing to feed, and fuck on his feralness.

His palm cups at your neck, pulling you to his lips; slick lips, tongue dancing, teeth gnashing. His fingers cradle your chin, making sure you don’t slip away from him. “Naughty,” his lips flick at your lip, “My love is naughty minx.” A shit-eating grin forms on your mouth.

“What are you thinking?”

“Imagine it, baby.” You perch yourself up, thighs parted by his belly, slowly crawling down his body, your kisses following in the wake of your bodily heat; loud kisses that spurs Thor on. Moving downward on his body, with wet open kisses in your wake, dull scratches on his belly skin.

“Oh my love, what a treat I have for you.” You whisper against his pelvis, just an inch above his cock; already hardening. Hunched over, your fingers begin to zap at the tips, “A thank you just for you.”

Violet magnetic energy seeps from your fingertips, soothing Thor’s mind --- settling his spirit to an ease, a moan filters in his ears, but your lips didn’t move. He squints his eyes --- another arm floats near behind your back, springing alive.

Rolling behind you was --- you. Naked, and wanton, but with slick straight hair that reaches your bare breasts. Thor’s eyes widen owlishly. Arms seeking out for him, caressing his legs as your lips slither between your slick lips, licking a stripe against his cock.

Now, bare and at his mercy, were two of you, with lustful feline eyes.

A breath catches at his throat, as you both roll your tongues, purring as cats. Pawing at him, comfortably perching yourselves at his hung, wet, pulsing cock; it twitches making your two halves cross-eyed.

You flick the tip of your tongue at the swollen head, making your clone giggle. Bowing its head down, softly taking Thor’s tightening balls in the warm cave of its mouth.

He growls low in his throat, his head falls back, memorized, drunk off the pleasure, babbling to himself, to you, low moans, murmurs that catch your ears that he loves you, and only you.

Milking him in your mouth, as your other half licks, and drenches his balls with saliva; trailing down to the satiny stretch of skin that connects to his ass. Slurps, and moans make Thor’s eyes roll to the back of his skull.

Spit coats the jut of your chin, shiny, as your duplicate tugs Thor’s sack between slick coated lips; trailing a lick upwards, the pink muscle tracing every ridge of veins. Taking turns gagging on him, spit bubbles pops and soaks his cock, and the corners of your mouths.

Bobbing your head with vigor, his cock hitting the back of your throat ---- gawk gawk gawk. Eyes watery to the brim, having Thor melt under your touch, and the power of your mouth.

“I wanna taste his cock too.” Your other-half whines pathetically, nudging your shoulder in jealousy, his cock escapes your lip, with a pop, and an airy gurgle; heavily breathing through your nose.

With a gentle grip of his cock, slapping your clone’s wanton tongue with his dick, his salty semen coating its mouth.

Your other hand glides against its spine, gripping the nape of its neck; its hair bone-straight now in a makeshift ponytail, guiding it down Thor’s dick.

Thor’s eyes were blown black with lust, his chest heaving intensely, every fiber of his being shaking; sweat collects at his brow, and neck, his massive hands clawing and clenching the bed-sheets. His toes curl, snarling, teeth gnawing at the air, groaning gutturally.

What a sight --- so filthy, so debauched.

And you’re all his.

“Make him cum,” You hiss, your eyes bore into his, nearing the shell of its ear, “make him cum deep in your throat.” Goading Thor, a full stripe of your tongue against his pubic-bone, to feel his trimmed hair against your soft tongue --- it just fuels you more.

“You like it, baby.” He nods hastily, you snicker, the wet gags echo, “You love it when I use my throat as a cock sleeve for you.”

“A slut, a filthy slut, and I love you.” Thor shrills a whine, “A dirty succubus --- guh, mine, all mine--- all UUGhh.” Thor’s spine arches off the bed, beating his fists against the mattress, as his cock spurts cum deep down the duplicate’s throat; gagging, and gurgling happily.

Thor’s head blops against the pillow, trying to catch air into his lungs, ragged breaths. The mixture of his high and the bliss of an incredible orgasm fuzzies his head.

As he recollects himself, he tucks his head down --- both you and your clone stare at him with feral grins, all fangs, waiting like predators to bounce. A gasp catches at Thor’s throat.

As you crawl over his toned thighs, perching yourself on his hips, and your clone slithers upon his chest, gently grazing the puss against his torso, reaching his face; thighs hover his face. Soaking mound winking back at him, and he growls.

Without any hesitation, he tugs your duplicate downward to his yearning mouth, but it giggles, refusing to go down so easily. He whines like a puppy.

You tsk at him playfully, aligning yourself, your folds hugging, and gliding down on Thor’s thick veiny cock; to finally with the tender guide of your palm, hovering over his weeping cock.

“Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, cut down by pussy.” Swiftly your cunt swallows him whole, to the hilt, as you rested at his hips.

He groans, pretty pink lips parting, as your counterpart seats on his face tenderly. A groan rumbles deep in his throat, as his tongue laps at your velvety folds.

“My queen.” He growls, devouring your cunt, as you rode him wildly, blindly; in a frenzy. His balls slap against your puckering asshole, his massive hand on your asscheeks, as the other laid firm on your clone’s hip.

It’s bliss, to not only have one but two of you, taking him apart --- the pleasure that swirls in his chest must be what warriors feel entering Vallah. Bruising fingertips cling onto hips, guiding your soppy cunt on his tongue, slurping as a mad man.

His mouth slathered in your juices, tastes sweet just as you. The jut of his chin soaked, shining; watering his beard. Your other half grips the headboard, Thor’s beard chafing inner thighs, unabashedly grinding on his mouth --- and you felt it all.

Overstimulated at the sensation, your cunt ignited by the pleasure of his tongue, grinding him. Your clit is throbbing, and hot. Your sex is ingited, soaking Thor’s thigh, slick as you glide back and forth, balls deep. He can feel your puckering asshole on his balls, your chest heaving; riding him akin to a wild animal.

Thighs quivering, as one of your palms grip your hair, the other has fingers digging into Thor’s hip, panting airy breaths. Crashing onto him, as if you both were touch-starved.

Teeth softly gnashing at the peach-fuzz cunt, tongue fluttering, diving deep inside the folds, teasing the hole --- without any thought, Thor plunges his tongue inside. You screech, head tilting back, both you and your clone unison, your cunt clenched tightly upon Thor’s cock.

He snarls --- a mixture of something of a yelp, and a growl. You need more, this furor of his tongue, and his cock fucking into your wet cavern --- the end nerves crashing as waves to the shore --- you can feel it all, all of it coiling, and all too much; so much that it’s deliciously painful.

Perching his feet against the mattress, the hand that rests on your waist, guiding you up, as Thor fucks into you; snarling, gnawing at the air as a beast. Your wetness squelching into echos, spurring Thor on, he felt like a king.

Your fingernails scratching along his chest hair that trickles into his happy trail, bending forward to lick at his belly; suckling.

Airy pants, as you savored his pouch, he’s toning his body is slowly coming back to his chiseled form, but you just love his softness. His warm plumpness is like a pillow, to sleep on, to kiss, to bite.

“Guh,” Thor hoists your hips off of his face for a moment, “my queen is an insatiable beast.”

“No more than you, my liege.” Grinding harder, desperate crashing, to catch that delirious high of his cum. Your voice falls into silence, “I feel it,” you whine, “I fucking need it.” The coiling pit in your stomach begins churning, and it’s tightening.

“Uggh, Thor --- I” A high-pitched shrill, both voices now blend together, unison in pleasure, hips thrashing. Your cunt clenches on his cock, wound tight, your vision began to blur --- kismet energy began to manifest and spark within the air; emitting from both Thor, and yourself.

Oceanic blue with blinding white streaks and bruising violet so rich it bleeds as a welt into the air, intermixing --- thunder cracks in the distance, the raw power of a god vibrates against the window pane.

The sky has become sodden above the upstate county, thunder cracking within the clouds.

His belly tightens, as hips thrust upwards inside you --- more sloppy, and uneven, but the intensity hasn’t eased; his vigor has heightened. Soaking balls slapping against skin, smacking wet against your puckering ass.

“My love, I’m going to ---” Thor is rendered speechless, his words trailing into babbling, fumbling lips against wet folds. You hiss with a grin, “I know,” your open-palm caress against his pelvis, “I can feel it too. I’m close.”

Desperate pants, and huffs of air, Thor rumbles, his voice trills through your other half, making it squeal, the meat of its thighs quiver, and jolt, nibbling on swollen clit. “Soak me! Fuck --- uggh, soak my cock!” His voice is husky, and wanton, hungry as a wolf.

Thunder crackles outside, as Thor groans, painting the walls of your cavern white, spilling from your spilt jewel, dribbling down the base of his pulsing cock, as you shrill together with your half, as it coats Thor’s mouth, and watering his golden beard.

Vein pulsing at the throat, resembling a feral creature, as your cunt clenching, milking Thor’s cock, his balls drained. Riding Thor, selfishly savoring every drop of him, and every second of your orgasm.

Your other-half looks down to Thor, chin to chest, his breathing ragged, fanning against the skin of your mound, eyes blown --- a pucker of a kiss, and wink --- then it's gone, evaporated into rich lavender mist, with a faint moan.

Your body aches happily, with tiresome limbs you crawl over Thor, with his hands pulling you against his chest.

Nuzzling your head under his chin, your leg crossed over his belly, boneless melting into the mattress. Thor whispers your name, “I love you,” his fingers scratch your scalp, “No other woman can compare.” He hums.

“You bring the beast out of me.” You giggle, small kisses on his molded chest, “I love you too.” A suckle on his nipple. Cheek to chest, you can hear his heart-beat, it lulls you.

Both of you are falling asleep under the warm blankets.

---

A flicker in the foggy distance of his mind awakens him slowly, he grunts sleepily. A familiar scent wafts through the crevices of his mind, his nose twitches.

Pretty lashes flutter open, his vision blur for a moment, to see you hovering over him, dangling the blunt just above his nostrils.

He must have fallen asleep, so comfortable in the bubble of your scents, and body heat.

Teasing him awake, you chuckle at Thor’s sleepy pout, “My love, another?” He stretches his muscles as a feline, you jiggle on top of him from the bodily movements.

You playfully shrug, “Our baby will be back in two hours,” you twirl the blunt between your fingers, lips pursing. “So, why not have a little bit more?” You giggle, trapping your bottom lip by the teeth.

He hums, his eyes hooded; wordlessly he plucks the blunt from your fingers, perching it in his lips.

“An insatiable wife, I have.”

You hum, gliding down on his belly, legs bent back in the air, ankles locked, “And what a beast of a husband, I have.” You giggle against his chest, with a nuzzling kiss.

[letsquestjess]

A Nudge in the Right Direction

Summary: Crosshair is determined to recover his aim, and Batcher is right there to support him.

Word Count: 644

Warnings: None.

A/N: Took me a bit longer than I planned but here's the little fic I promised to write in this post. Slight spoilers for season 3.

-- -- -- -- --

A resounding shot shattered through the mellow evening, accompanied by a hissed curse. With persistence imprinted on his face, Crosshair flexed the fingers of his right hand, the cold metal of the sniper rifle providing a reassuring weight as he drew the lens up to his eye. The scope shuddered, but his level-headed breaths tempered the wobble. 

No matter how much he told himself not to rush, to allow his instincts time to recover along with the rest of his body, a sense of urgency bit at him. The Empire’s relentless pursuit of Omega only fuelled Hunter and Wrecker’s determination to safeguard her at any cost and he itched to join them, to once again stand shoulder to shoulder as they did in the days before the Republic’s downfall. Skills all working in tandem, as one. But they couldn’t return to that. Echo was off with Rex, and Tech… 

Lowering the weapon, he clenched his teeth, suppressing the tears that threatened to slip free since Omega had revealed the devastating news from Eriadu. He should have been there, should have noticed the signs of the Empire’s malevolence long before Barton and Mayday. All he had now was a crushing pain and brothers who refused to meet his eyes. Whether incited by deep-seated hatred or their own overwhelming grief, he wasn’t certain. But those nights in his cell when a flicker of hope dared to enter his heart, he knew that a reunion with his squad would be far from joyful. After everything that had happened between them, after the words spoken and spat, there would always be an unbridgeable gap that would require an immense effort on both sides to mend. 

Behind him, Batcher padded across the sand, tongue lolling out and pants wheezing between her teeth. The birds she had been chasing perched in the trees and glared at the lurca hound, ready to defend themselves if she resumed the hunt. 

“What do you want?” Crosshair asked as she sat down and fixed him with a strangely lovable blue-red stare. “If you’re hungry, go find Omega. She’ll get you something to eat.” 

Batcher didn’t move, tail wagging contentedly. With a sigh, Crosshair shook his head and brought the rifle back into position. The tremors in his trigger finger spread through his hand and the gun rattled. Undeterred, he took the shot, missing by a hairsbreadth.

As he was about to lower his weapon, Batcher nudged against his elbow and wriggled underneath, supporting his arm as though prompting him to try again. Deciding to humour her, he adjusted his posture and lined up the attempt, squinting through the scope. 

The tremble remained, but he found solace in the hound’s steady breathing, harmonising with the wash of the evening tide. She stayed as still as possible and huffed out a tiny, impatient yap. 

“Okay, okay,” the sniper said. A loud crack cut the air as the next bullet sent a chunk of dripping purple fruit flying. He chuckled quietly to himself and bent down to pet Batcher’s snout. As she scrunched up her nose, he quickly retracted his hand in time to avoid her gruff sneeze. Sand spluttered into her face and she shook off the grains. 

“Have you been playing in the grass?” Crosshair questioned. 

As if in reply, she sneezed again. Another burst showered her and another vigorous shake scattered the pale powder from her coat.  

“I take that as a yes.” 

The lurca plonked herself down and tilted her head, a rumble reverberating in her throat until he obliged and scratched her favourite spot behind her neck. She scooted closer and bumped her nose to his right hand, nuzzling at his shaky palm and letting out a little whine. 

Crosshair hushed her. “I’ll get there,” he promised, tracing a comforting path down her spiny back. “I won’t let my family down again.”