#the way i AGONIZED over this for nearly a solid two weeks trying to match up the best slashers w all the bois aaaaah

[inkykeiji]

hq boys + slasher film dates!

karasuno edition

notes: basically, if you had suggested the two of you have a slasher film date night, these are the films i think each boy would pick! ummm i don’t think this needs any warnings??? they’re slashers so, mentions of blood and murder i guess!

part one | part two | part three

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

karasuno

sawamura daichi – halloween + halloween II ; dir. john carpenter – daichi’s got a lil mini marathon planned! he’s bringing over two iconic classics, the best of the best, #1 in slashers, n he’s gonna make u guys a biiiig bowl of buttery popcorn and cuddle w you under a super fluffy blanket while you watch michael slowly kill off characters and terrorize laurie <33

sugawara koushi – black christmas ; dir. bob clark – suga chose black christmas because he likes the air of mystery surrounding it and it’s vague ending. he also thinks it’s fun to pick apart all of the ways black christmas inspired golden age slasher films to come and enjoys its unique murders!

azumane asahi – friday the 13th ; dir. sean s. cunningham – you definitely had to coerce him into having a slasher date night, managing to get him to say yes by promising that he could pick the film. he chooses friday the 13th purely because it’s one of the less gory golden age slashers (gore makes him nauseous :( he’s squeamish!), and because he likes the twist at the end!

nishinoya yuu – child’s play ; dir. tom holland – noya just finds chucky hilarious. he’s crude as heck and the whole concept is ridiculous to him, which just makes the film a fun watch. you wont be scared, because noya will manage to make a joke out of everything and have you laughing until your stomach hurts.

hinata shoyo – silent night, deadly night ; dir. charles e. sellier jr. – hinata’s picking silent night, deadly night, because he’s really intrigued by the concept of mixing christmas with halloween/horror, and appreciates the macabre way christmas elements are infused with the murders/plot. he already thought there was something so terrifying about santa claus as a figure, so it totally makes sense to him to have a serial killer dress up as the jolly man and absolutely gives him the creeps!

kageyama tobio – terror train ; dir. roger spottiswoode – he thinks the costume idea is really cool and clever, and that the concept of being stuck on a moving train with a serial killer in the middle of nowhere is legitimately terrifying, even if the film itself is really predictable! (he also strikes me as a dude who thinks trains are neat idk why???). additionally, he thinks jamie lee curtis is a fricken badass (because she is).

tanaka ryuunosuke – the texas chainsaw massacre 2 ; dir. tobe hooper – tanaka’s bringing over tcm2! released twelve years after the first tcm, tcm2 is a parody of both its original film and classical teenage movies from the 80s (the poster is a parody of the breakfast club’s poster, tanaka will tell you this no less than three times) and tanaka appreciates its witty humor and callbacks to the original film.

tsukishima kei – peeping tom ; dir. michael powell – this pretentious boy has chosen another classic, the other film credited as the very start of the slasher subgenre. he appreciates its intelligent storytelling and innovative cinematography that comments on the voyeuristic nature of cinema as an art form itself.

yamaguchi tadashi – a bay of blood ; dir. mario bava – yamaguchi surprises you when he puts on giallo classic a bay of blood (aka ecologia del delitto; reazione a catena; carnage; twitch of the death nerve; and blood bath). despite it’s extremely gruesome and gory nature, he tells you he likes it because, in his mind, it’s not too realistic thanks to the bright red blood that looks like paint and the over the top acting, two of the film’s most iconic and lovable features.

[lightsovermonaco]

A Decent Workout (NSFW Pierre Gasly)

Masterlist

Completely and utterly self indulgent fic inspired by how damn GOOD Pierre looked over preseason testing. Beta read by @acollectionofficsandshit

The buzzing of an alarm woke you not long after the sun had risen over the deserts of Bahrain. You groan, rolling over and smacking the solid shoulder of your boyfriend, startling him awake as well. “Turn it off, Pierre.”

He does as he’s told, then clumsily tucks an arm around you and pulls you to his chest. Voice rough with sleep, he murmurs, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” You echo, nuzzling into his warmth. You curl your frigid hands against his chest, utilizing your personal space heater to the fullest extent. “How long until testing?”

Pierre rests his cheek on your head. His hand traces lazy circles on your shoulder blade like you have all the time in the world. Your eyes slide shut again, sleep beaconing on the horizon. “About an hour.”

You sigh, suddenly awake. “Not much time for lounging around then."

Eagerness mingled with disappointment in his reply. “First day of the new season.”

Pierre's excitement had been palpable the entire week. Buzzing about like a honeybee on the first day of spring, he had prattled on about the specs of the AT02, what changes he was most excited to see, and his predictions on how the car would compare to others in the paddock. You offered your thoughts when prompted, but were just as happy to listen to his happy ramblings and share his enthusiasm. 

It had been his idea to arrive in Bahrain early, allowing the two of you a few precious, uninterrupted days with each other. From now on, his weekends would be packed. No more last minute trips to ski resorts or visits to Charles in Monaco. Starting today, his primary focus became Formula 1. He would travel around the world to compete in a total of 23 grand prix this year, and you would follow faithfully to cheer him on.

You lay tangled in each other for a few minutes, trading sweet kisses. “I have to go,” Pierre murmurs against your lips. You tighten your grip around his bare middle, determined to make him stay a little longer.

“You’ll be gone for so long though,” You whine, pouting. The last few days had spoiled you. He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Eleven whole hours without a beautiful Frenchman to keep me company.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. And besides, you can watch the entire session from the comfort of our suite.”

“It’s not the same as being in the garage.” Damn the personnel restrictions the FIA had imposed for the upcoming season. You wouldn’t be allowed in the paddock for a single race. You understood and respected the decision, but it bothered you that you couldn't be there when he inevitably made it on the podium this year.

“I know.” Pierre tapped your arm in silent request. Reluctantly, you release your death grip and allow him to slide out of bed. He turns his back to you and stretches, granting you a moment to drink him in. He had packed on a significant amount of muscle during the offseason, filling out in all the right places.

Deciding there was no use trying to go back to sleep, you rise and join him at the dresser. He rummages through it, finally settling on a plain tshirt. As usual, you can’t take your eyes off him as he effortlessly slides the fabric over his head. How did he make an everyday act so inherently sexy?

Catching your stare, he fights the smile playing on his soft lips. “What?”

“Just admiring the view,” You say simply. Going up on your tiptoes, you press a meaningful kiss to his cheek. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He holds out his pinkie to you. You smile, wrapping your own tightly around it. “Promise.” He allows you one more passionate kiss before he slips out the door to make his way to the track.

At least one perk of staying in a suite was the fully stocked kitchenette. You grabbed an apple before brewing a cup of strong coffee, taking in the view off the balcony while it percolated. You could just see the track from here, something you knew Pierre had specifically requested. Although it was early, heat already rippled from the pavement. Hopefully his Alpha Tauri would stay cool and not throw a tantrum in the intense temperatures.

After a quick shower, you threw on one of Pierre’s extra shirts and let the comforting scent envelop you. Settling into bed with your coffee in hand and a laptop humming on your legs, you wait for the testing livestream to begin. In the meantime you scroll through your phone, reading the comments on the pictures of Pierre arriving at the circuit. 

His carefully selected outfit had caused quite a stir and honestly, you understood why. A loose blue shirt, white skinny jeans and sunglasses. On anyone else, it wouldn’t have been impressive in any way, but on him… He somehow always managed to deliver exactly what his fans - and most importantly you - craved.

And when the livestream started and he stepped out on the track with his white and navy Alpha Tauri suit half undone, the moisture-wicking underlayer practically painted on… You damn near lost it.

In the months since last season, you’d forgotten how mouthwateringly attractive he was in a race suit. The underlayer left nothing to the imagination, clinging to the hard lines of his torso. The famous Bahrain heat didn't help your sanity either, the sweat soaked fabric turning slightly translucent in places. Your eyes stay glued to the screen as it flips between cameras, desperately praying for another glimpse of your frenchman. 

How were you supposed to wait nine more agonizing hours for him to return?

As if picking up on your neediness, you didn't see another shot of Pierre for twenty minutes. The camera cut to the Alpha Tauri garage, where Pierre’s car waited in the pit lane. The closeup of him geared up sitting in his Alpha waiting patiently made you slap a hand over your mouth. Those eyes. You knew the little quirk of his brow he threw at the camera was meant solely for you; a way to unravel you when he wasn’t physically there.

You silently cursed him for how well it worked. 

Moments later, the tire blankets are peeled off and his car is lowered to the ground. Gasly was one of the first drivers to head out onto the track, giving him plenty of clean air to lay down fast laps. He completes seventeen laps in the first hour, and by lap twenty he holds the second fastest time, less than a second behind Verstappen. 

You try to focus on the precision and skill Pierre is displaying, but your mind keeps wandering back to the image of him standing on the track in his race suit. The consuming need to strip him out of it is incredibly distracting. It doesn’t help that your social media feeds are flooded with images of it either, offering you no reprieve.

By the end of the second hour, Pierre edges past Verstappen to take the fastest lap and go purple. He nearly holds onto it at the end of the session, just a few tenths slower than Ricciardo and Verstappen. It doesn’t matter; pride and love swell in your chest when he finally pulls back into the garage, his excitement evident before he even pulls his helmet off. The Alpha mechanics share his excitement, the camera showing them congratulating him before cutting to post session interviews.

As much as you tried, nothing could make you focus on Max or Daniel’s interviews. You spun the ring on your pinkie impatiently, waiting for Pierre to make an appearance. Ages later, he finally took a seat at the press conference. He took no mercy on you. Again dressed in crisp white and navy that accented his sun kissed skin, the ring twin to yours back on his finger… 

“Fuck me,” You groaned, throwing your head back. Even with half his face covered, he was still breathtakingly gorgeous. He carried himself with an easy confidence that no one else on the grid could match, on top of the world and determined to make it everyone else’s problem.

The entire time he spoke, you dreamed of running your tongue up the column of his neck, right over his Adam’s apple. You could taste the salt settled in the hollow of his collarbone, hear his breath catching as you worshipped him. 

Only half an hour until he came home to you.

The interview finally ended and you snapped your laptop shut, tossing it to the chair at the bedside. The second he came through that door, you’d pounce on him. Ten hours of straight torture, being forced to endure watching other women on social media drool over him and being unable to congratulate him on his amazing morning session at the garage. 

And fuck, would you congratulate him.

Minutes dragged by as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, the endless pictures of Pierre not helping your desperation. You started at the sound of a key fitting in a lock. Throwing your phone aside, you scrambled from the bed, launching yourself at the door as it opened.

“Hey baby-”

You cut him off with a feral kiss, your lust boiling over. To his credit, he didn’t hesitate in dropping his bag and kicking the door shut behind him. He caught you when you jumped, broad hands cupping your ass as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“I love whoever designed Alpha’s suit,” You mumble between the open-mouthed kisses you pepper along his stubbled jaw. “You look fucking amazing in white.”

“I’ll be sure to pass your thanks along.” Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull, exposing the thick column of his neck. Your tongue darts across his skin, savoring the softness. He groans, his grip shifting to dig his fingers into your thighs.

You don’t pause when he lays you on the bed, mouth continuing its needy exploration down to his shoulder. He settles over you, his solid body a familiar and welcome weight against you. 

“I couldn’t concentrate on anything once you stepped out onto the track,” You tell him, hands slipping under his polo. “Do you know how many women were talking about you today?”

“There’s only one that I care about,” He murmurs, pulling back to strip off his shirt. You take advantage of the power shift to wriggle out from under him. “Where are you-”

“Lay down,” You say, quiet but firm. The corner of his mouth quirks up but he obeys, taking his sweet time. You don’t mind; watching his shoulders ripple as he settles back against the downy pillows.

“Miss me much?” He taunts, the deep baritone resonating with some primal part within you and sending a shiver down your spine. “Usually our roles are flipped.”

You bracket a bare leg on either side of his with a wicked grin. “Do you really think I’d let you set the pace when you tortured me all day?” You bite your lip and let your gaze wander over the hard planes of his pecs, down his sculpted abdomen, finally coming to rest at the line of muscle disappearing beneath his waistband. You don’t miss the way his attention dips to your thighs, your center barely covered by the hem of his band tee you wore.

Pierre grins, folding an arm behind his head. “Do your worst.”

Your shirt joined his on the floor, piercing blue eyes eating up your newly exposed skin. You sink forward, eye to eye with him. You tip your head to the side, letting your hair slide forward to tickle his shoulder as you lean in to whisper, “I will.”

Lips, teeth and tongue float over his skin, leaving small, easily hidden marks in your wake. You let your hands slide across his abdomen as your mouth makes its way down his sternum, pausing to delight in his rapidly beating heart.

Fingers brushing the waistband of his riot-inducing white jeans, you press a tender kiss just below his belly button. "Why do you always insist on wearing white?"

"D-drives you wild," He gasps out, stumbling over the simple words. You hum against his skin in response, cock twitching against your shoulder. One of his hands flies back to grip the headboard, veins in his forearm bulging. 

Only when his eyes slide shut in anticipation do you finally undo the button, unzipping his fly agonizingly slow. Your name is a breathless plea tumbling from him as you ghost your fingers over his length. He lifts his hips just enough to allow you to slide his jeans down his thighs, followed by his boxers. The tip of your finger runs along the underside of his shaft, causing him to groan. The headboard creaks under his crushing grip as he tries to stop himself from shattering at your barest touch. 

Flicking your tongue over the tip, you spread the bead of precum that had gathered there. Slipping into French, Pierre swears viciously, his free hand tangling in your hair. He may know how to make you squirm from across the city, but you knew how to return the favor tenfold.

"You gonna win for me in two weeks, my love?" You purr, curling your fingers around his cock. 

"I'll w-win every race if it means you'll fuck me," He replies immediately, wholly submitted to the promise of your touch. 

You hum noncommittally before taking the tip of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue over the head. His hips buck, but you're already reacting in anticipation of that very movement. He groans in frustration when your mouth leaves him. A welcome change from your normal games, when it was his head between your thighs, his teasing tongue flicking across your center, your hips rocking in frustration. You enjoy his frustration for a few breaths, lazily drawing circles on his hip like he had done to you that morning.

"I think that could be arranged."

Bracing your hands on his chest, you position yourself so your slick folds brush against his cock. Arching your back, you grind your hips against him, your own chest heaving in time with his. The hours of anticipation had left you dripping wet, evidence of the effect he had on you. You silently praised yourself for your restraint; you wanted to drag out his need and tease him like he had done to you all damn day.

 "Mon amour," he murmurs, and you damn near lose your mind. Two words in his native tongue, dripping with honeyed softness but spoken with such rawness, it sets your soul on fire.

You reach a hand back, guiding him into as you sink down. Your pussy stretches to accommodate the thickness of him, and you have to give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness.

Sweat beads on his golden brow as you begin to ride him in earnest, his hips rolling to meet yours. Panting, you dig your nails into his forearm, leaving angry red crescents behind. No matter how many times you fucked, it always felt like the first. The perfect fit never ceased to amaze you, the angle of your hips putting delicious pressure on that magic spot inside you with every thrust. 

"Pierre," You breathe, head falling back. His own thrusts become more frenzied, the wet sound of skin on skin sending a bolt of ecstasy through you.

His breathy moan of your name guides you over the edge into oblivion, your orgasm slamming white hot over you. Your desperate movements begin to slow, Pierre stilling beneath you as you struggle to regain your senses. Limbs shaking, you roll over, allowing yourself a moment to steady your breathing before turning back to him.

Pierre jerks when you take him in your mouth once more, tasting yourself on his cock. Hollowing your cheeks while taking as much of him as you can, you wrap your hand around the rest of him.

"Fuck," He mumbles, over and over as he thrusts his hips into your mouth a handful of times before his release finds him. His hips jerk as he cums, your tongue coaxing every last drop from him. You let him finish before swallowing the salty liquid, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

Sighing blissfully, you collapse onto the pillow next to your beloved. His arm hooks around you, still sticky with sweat but you don't care.

“I would say that counts as my workout for today,” He jokes, voice shaking in the aftermath. You laugh, wrapping an arm around his chest.

"Tomorrow, I choose your outfit."

Pierre’s laugh rumbles through you, setting your toes curling. "As long as it makes you attack me when I get home, I'll wear anything you ask me to."

[chilling-seavey]

Anything But Mine - Lucy’s Birth Story

A/N June 24th is an important day in the ABM universe...I figured we can take a little read to find out why! Hope you enjoy 🧡 + be forewarned about plenty of fluff included here 🥺 

A/N2 Also this pic of Daniel omg you can’t tell me it doesn’t look like him seeing his new baby for the first time 🥺 all that emotion in his expression

T/W Idk if this counts as a trigger warning but there are detailed descriptions of labour and delivery!

W/C 8.6k words

Daniel kept himself busy after the wedding to support their little family, spending long days in the studio with his university friend, Jack. Money was tight but comfortable and with extra funds that Callum managed to get from his and Florence’s parents back in LA, they had purchased a three-bedroom apartment as soon as possible. Clementine and Penelope loved their home, playing on the balcony as much as they could in summer as they said the 56th floor made them feel like the Queens of the city. Once the end of November came around, they were often stuck inside due to the weather starting to drop, playing under the grand piano in the living room.

Florence was cleaning up from dinner when her phone rang. Daniel always called when he was leaving work.

“I can’t wait to come home.” he said right when she answered. She could hear him getting into his car in the background.

“Me too. We missed you at dinner.” Florence replied, wiping her hands on the dish cloth that was hanging over her shoulder.

“I haven’t even eaten yet.” Daniel sighed. “I’m so tired.”

“Pick up something to eat on the way home.” Florence suggested, glancing to the two young girls across the room before she added, “and I need you to pick up something from the drug store if you can.”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“A pregnancy test?”

The silence on the other end made her smile softly. She could picture his face exactly; his wide eyes and discrete smile.

He was quiet a moment before speaking, “Yeah…I can definitely grab one. Do you think-”

“We’re not jinxing it, Dani.” Florence chuckled.

“No, of course not.” Daniel smiled widely. “I’m on my way.”

Every evening when the front door opened and Daniel came in from work, the girls dropped what they were doing and ran for him, throwing their tiny arms around him. This night was no different as he bent down to greet his daughters, pressing equal amounts of kisses to their heads. Daniel glanced up at Florence who was stood in the archway, leaning against the wall. He stood up and handed her the small bag from the drugstore with a wink, leaning in to kiss her once.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“Daddy! Can you play with us?!” Clementine asked loudly, bouncing on her toes.

“I think it’s almost bedtime, Clemmie girl, don’t you think?” Daniel brushed a hand through her messy blonde hair.

“No.” Clementine frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Tomorrow I will. I promise.” Daniel assured her. “We’ll have story time tonight in the big bed, okay?”

The girls shrieked excitedly and ran off down the hallway towards the master bedroom. Daniel took the moment of silence to hug his wife, sharing their quiet ‘I love you’s, before he was called by the girls down the hall.

After two storybooks amongst a mound of pillows and the duvet, the girls started to drift, wrapped up in his arms. Florence took Clementine to bed and Daniel took Penelope, tucking them into their beds in their own rooms. The two young adults met back in the hallway, standing with a few feet between them.

“I’m like…a few weeks late.” Florence said.

“That’s a good sign.” Daniel replied.

“Not for sure though.” Florence added.

“That’s okay. Do you want me with you?” Daniel asked her quietly.

“Of course.” Florence nodded.

They found themselves in the ensuite, staring at the unopened box of two pregnancy tests on the counter. They stood there a while, Daniel waiting for Florence to make her first move. He glanced at her.

“They won’t tell us anything if you don’t take them.” Daniel chuckled.

Florence took a deep breath and took the box with her to the bathroom. She shut the door and got to work. Daniel sat on the counter waiting for her, finishing the now cold take-out from McDonald’s he picked up on the way home. She came back out and washed her hands, leaving the two tests in the opened box between them.

“I don’t know why I’m nervous.” Florence whispered, leaning her hands on the counter.

“I thought you wanted another one?” Daniel frowned, pulling lightly at her arm so she moved to stand between his legs.

“I do. So bad. Maybe I’m nervous that it will be negative.” Florence sighed.

“So we try again.” Daniel shrugged, taking her hands in his. “And again and again and again-“

Florence rolled her eyes at him through a smile, letting him press a kiss to her lips. They fell into silence as they waited, hands together.

“I’ve never been with someone when I do this.” Florence admitted. “It’s kind of nice.”

“Isn’t it?” Daniel smiled.

“Thank you for being here.”

“You’re my wife now, remember? I gotta be here with you for everything.” Daniel said, taking her face in his hands. “No going through things by yourself anymore.”

Florence took the front of his shirt in her hands and pulled him in for a lingering kiss.

“Can we look, yet?” Daniel finally mumbled against her mouth. “I’m dying here.”

“Yeah.” Florence said, picking up the box again. She dumped both tests into her hand, hiding the screen face down. She passed one to Daniel and kept one for herself.

They both stared down at the hidden tests in their hand before looking back up to each other.

“I’m nervous!” Florence shrieked quietly, bouncing on her toes a little.

“Count to 3, okay?” Daniel smiled, reaching out his one free hand to hold hers. “1���2…3…”

They both turned the screens face up in their palms, each showing a clear pair of solid pink lines.

“Dani…” Florence breathed, squeezing his hand.

“2 lines is good, right?!” he asked quickly, looking up at her.

“So good.” Florence nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

“Oh my gosh.” Daniel whispered, hoping off the counter to wrap her in a tight hug. “We’re gonna have a baby. Together this time.”

Florence laughed lightly against his shoulder, staring at the positive pregnancy test in her hand, “I love you.”

“I love you so much.” Daniel smiled.

“But seriously, Dani.” Florence pulled back from their hug, “I’m worried. Penelope came so early. The doctors said it was from the stress I was constantly in and I don’t want that to happen again. We lucked out with her health but-“

“There’s no reason to be stressed this time.” Daniel assured her, brushing her hair back form her face, “I’m going to be with you through everything. Every doctor’s appointment and everything.”

“Don’t promise that.” Florence chuckled. “You have a job.”

“The last two times you had to do so much on your own. I want to be here for everything. We’re going to do it right this time. I promise.”

~~

Christmas was only a few weeks away and keeping such a big secret was agonizing. They had planned the announcement for Christmas and swore themselves to secrecy. Daniel had to somehow see Jack almost every day at the studio and not say anything. Their first obstacle was telling their two girls who they knew had to be told first. Christmas Eve brought the perfect opportunity, the small family back in Vancouver with Daniel’s family for their annual Christmas visit. Still in their dresses and stockings from church, Clementine and Penelope were each handed a wrapped box as the family of four sat on the rug in front of the lit Christmas tree and warm fireplace, Daniel’s parents and siblings sitting around the couches. It was always a tradition to open one gift on Christmas Eve so this wasn’t unusual to the girls.

Clementine, who was closing in on 5 years old quickly, tore open the paper excitedly, her 18-month younger sister desperately trying to keep up. Inside the boxes were a set of pyjamas for each of them. The candy cane patterned sleeves and trim on the shirt matched the pants, Florence and Daniel both having their own matching pair in their room. The girls’ had writing on their shirts, however, the I’s of the red lettering were peppermint wheels reading ‘Big Sister’.

Clementine could read hers easily, the fact easily understood since she had been a big sister for 4 years. Penelope simply stared at hers, the 4-year-old not quite grasping full words yet.

“What does it say, Penny?” Florence asked.

��I dunno.” Penelope giggled shyly.

“Hers says ‘Big Sister’ too.” Clementine said. “That’s wrong. She’s the little sister.”

“She won’t be for long.” Daniel said through a smile.

“Oh my gosh!” Anna shrieked, clapping her hands over her mouth. “You’re pregnant?!”

Florence laughed and nodded lightly.

“No, you’re not!” Keri gaped.

“Yes, we are.” Florence giggled as Daniel pressed a kiss to her cheek, tucking his arm around her shoulders to pull her close.

The adults got up to share eager hugs and congratulations, a few happy tears being shed in the process. The young girls stared blankly at them, not quite grasping what was happening.

Christian bent down between the girls, “You guys are going to have a little brother or sister.”

“A baby?” Clementine looked up at her parents.

“Yeah, Clemmy girl, a brand-new baby!” Daniel smiled, sitting back on the rug again.

“Are you happy?” Florence asked as she joined him.

“Yeah.” Clementine shrieked suddenly, tossing the tissue paper in the air and nearly hitting Christian in the face.

“What about you, bug?” Daniel asked their soft-spoken second daughter. “You want a brother or sister?”

Penelope’s little smile brightened at his gentle acknowledgment, her rosy cheeks hiding behind her new pyjamas as everyone looked at her. She nodded gently, her soft giggle muffled by the clean fabric.

“Mommy’s having a baby, Nell!” Clementine yelled, tackling her younger sister onto the carpet.

“Clem, you’re more excited than all of us combined.” Florence laughed, grabbing the eldest by her waist and pulled her onto her lap.

“Do you want to see a picture of the baby?” Daniel asked the room.

“Yes please!” Penelope kicked her legs in the air, her red dress flying up by her head.

Daniel pulled her towards him by her ankles before taking her hands so she was on her feet. She draped her arm around his shoulder and the rest of the family gathered around behind them as he unlocked his phone to open the email from the doctor’s office. The black and white image of the little blob filled his screen.

“Wow.” Clementine breathed, leaning over to get a better look as the room awe’d gently. Penelope pulled the hem of her dress up to bite at, her wide blue eyes scanning the still image awestruck.

“Who do you think it looks like?” Daniel asked, gently pulling the dress out of her mouth.

“Me!” Clementine shouted.

“You?!” Florence laughed.

“Where is the baby?” Penelope whispered, leaning her head on Daniel’s.

“In my tummy.” Florence said.

“Why?”

“Because that’s just where babies grow.” Florence shrugged.

“How did it get there?” Penelope yawned.

“Yeah! How did it get there?” Clementine added, looking between her parents.

“Oh, Lord.” Christian laughed loudly, stepping back and headed for the kitchen, “I’m going to get a drink.”

Daniel chuckled nervously, telling his daughters, “A little magic from the wedding.”

“Do I get some too?” Clementine asked.

“Not until you get married which isn’t for years and years from now.” Daniel said.

“Many, many years.” Keri jumped in, scooping up her granddaughter. “Even more than your Mommy and Daddy waited.”

Daniel glared playfully at her, making the adults laugh.

“Why don’t we get into our pj’s and then have story time by the fire before we have to get into bed?” Florence suggested.

And that’s what they did, the four of them changing into their matching pyjamas for their last Christmas as a family of four, cuddled up on the couch with a picture book, their extended family joining with mugs of tea around the living room too. Daniel had his arm around his little family, lazily twisting a strand of Florence’s hair around his finger as she read out loud.

It was the one night a year the girls didn’t want a second book, eager to get to bed so Santa could come. The girls were tucked into bed and things in the living room were taken care of by the adults before they were off to bed themselves, cuddled up together as light snow filled the city below.

~~

The new year came with fresh starts and busy days. Penelope needed to move into Clementine’s room since they needed room for the nursey. Florence wanted to get started early, often waking up early to work, Daniel finding her pushing an entire dresser down the hallway at 6am. He constantly had to pull her back to bed, trying to convince her to let him take care of the big things.

The girls loved to talk to the baby, pressing their sticky hands to her small belly anytime they could. They shared many stories too and Clementine often came home from Junior Kindergarten with paintings for the baby which would be put safely in a book.

Each doctor’s appointment was finished with glowing reviews, everything progressing smoothly and, as promised, Daniel was there for each and every one. It was at their 20-week ultrasound that Florence was handed the sealed envelope that contained only a folded piece of paper. For both her pregnancies, she waited until the birth to know the gender since she didn’t feel the need. This time, Daniel insisted on a gender reveal party, giving Michael and Luke Clifford the privilege of finding out first and planning the whole thing.

It was during March Break when spring was starting to poke through the melting snow and Clementine would have the whole week out of school. All their family and friends came, even Daniel’s family flew in for the week, everyone dressed in either blue or pink for which ever gender they guessed.

That morning, Daniel came into the ensuite bathroom in all white, buttoning up the final button on his collared shirt.

“Where’s your colour?” Florence asked from her spot at her dressing table, fastening her earring.

“I don’t want to wear a colour because I don’t want to make the baby feel bad if they’re not what I guessed.” Daniel shrugged, leaning down next to her. “I’m going to be happy either way.”

Florence glanced at her sky-blue dress in the mirror and pursed her lips.

“You look beautiful.” Daniel whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek, his hand falling to her swollen belly.

“Maybe I should wear white too.” Florence said.

“You don’t have to.” Daniel chuckled, moving to the sink to brush his teeth.

“I was thinking boy because I haven’t had any morning sickness this time but my other two I did.” Florence said quietly, eyeing her dress before looking back to him.

“So stay in blue.” Daniel answered through his toothbrush.

“No…I’m going white too. We have to match.” Florence tisked, getting up from her chair to find a white dress in her closet.

Her sudden stop made Daniel frown, “What’s wrong?”

“I think I felt a kick.” Florence breathed, setting a hand on her stomach. Daniel got rid of his toothbrush and joined her, setting his hand next to hers. Sure enough, a tiny flutter moved under their palms.

“We have a tiny dancer on our hands.” Daniel smiled softly.

Florence let her right-hand fall to the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair, staring at his wide eyes and parted lips, his expression full of awe.

“I love you.” Florence whispered.

“I love you too.” Daniel grinned, leaning in to kiss her.

“Are you almost ready in there? We need to get going soon!” Callum called from the hallway.

Florence quickly switched into a white dress and heels and they joined their little family in the living room. The girls were both wearing light blue overalls with pink undershirts since they both kept switching between ‘boy’ and ‘girl’ every five minutes. Callum and Aidan both went with blue.

“You’re cheating!” Clementine shouted, pointing at her parents’ white outfits.

“We can’t break the rules if we made them.” Daniel said with a wink.

Michael and Luke had everything set up in the ballroom space of the apartment building, the same place Clementine had her first birthday. Everyone was already there, helping themselves to snacks and drinks. It wasn’t long before Daniel and Florence were directed to the front of the room, Clementine and Penelope joining them beside a large black balloon held by Michael. He handed it to the two little girls, giving them the instruction to hold tightly to the string so it wouldn’t float away.

When the room was quiet, Luke passed over a safety pin to Daniel and one to Florence. On a count to three, they were to pop the balloon and the confetti inside would reveal the gender.

“I’m nervous again!” Florence giggled.

“It’s a boy and I’ll bet money on that!” Callum called from the front of their small group.

“Willing to make that a bet? $50. It’s a girl.” Christian held out his hand.

“Deal. I know my sister.” Callum shook on it. “It’s a boy.”

“Ready?” Daniel smiled to his wife.

“So ready.” Florence leaned over to kiss him, the two girls between them laughing excitedly.

“3…!” Luke started. “2…1…!”

The pop of the balloon filled the quiet room and pink confetti rain down on the family of four. The little girls shrieked excitedly, jumping up and down in their own world. Beside them, Florence was more than shocked, falling into Daniel open arms.

Despite the shouting and laughing that took over the room, it felt like it was just the two of them. She could feel a tear fall onto her shoulder and Daniel held her tighter.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, his voice wavering.

“I love you.” Florence smiled, taking his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his.

“I believe you owe me money, Mr. DiCaprio!” Christian shouted over the excitement in the room.

~~

The remainder of the second and well into the third trimester was spent with Daniel waiting on her hand and foot. Florence didn’t like it at first, feeling badly that he was doing it all, but Daniel insisted, doing everything he could to keep her relaxed with her feet up. He took Clementine to school every morning and picked her up on his lunch break, he took charge of bath time for the girls and cleaned the apartment, and even (tried his best) to make dinner every night.

Florence really missed him throughout her last pregnancy as he was such a comfort through the end of her first, being the only thing to help her sleep in those later months. She basked in it this time, though, refusing to let him get out of bed until he was almost late for work. Not that he complained, he would have given anything to stay like that all day.

Even as summer came around and the apartment was always sweltering, Daniel had his arms around her like he would never let go. It was a vision of love and protection Florence never knew she really needed.

And one June morning, no earlier than sunrise, Florence awoke suddenly. Daniel’s arm was draped lazily over her waist with his bare chest pressed to her back, soft breaths let out against her neck. Sweat was pooling at her hairline and she gently slid his arm off of her and he shifted sleepily onto his back. Florence sat up, pushing the heavy duvet off of her to try and get some cool air. It wasn’t unusual that she was extra warm during her final few weeks as growing a full-term human wasn’t an easy task, so she merely took a second to catch her breath.

A small sharp pain made her flinch, pressing a hand underneath her swollen stomach. It was only when she started to make a move to get out of bed that she noticed the wet sheets. Her discovery was punctuated with a warm cramping spreading over her hips.

Florence looked to her right where Daniel laid, his brown hair sticking up in all directions and lips set in a small pout as he slept soundly. She gave him a small nudge, “Dani.”

He shifted tiredly to face the other way, pulling the blankets higher over him.

“Sweetheart.” Florence pulled them back before shaking his arm. “Daniel.”

He rolled over to face her, blinking open his tired eyes to try and focus on her, “You okay?” he asked groggily, reaching a hand to her arm.

“My water broke.” Florence whispered.

Daniel’s still half-asleep face took a second to register what she said before his mouth was falling open. He looked down to her lap that was still covered by the duvet.

“Ok. That’s okay.” Daniel jumped out of bed, almost tripping over his own feet as he scrambled to her bedside in only his underwear, tugging on a pair of pyjama pants in the process. “Are you hurting?”

“A little.” Florence frowned. “She’s 3 weeks early, Dani. We did everything right I don’t know why-“

“Hey.” Daniel took her face in his hands. “It’s okay. Remember the doctor said 37 weeks is fine. That we should expect early because of last time. 37 is good.”

Florence nodded.

“I’ll call the midwife?” Daniel offered.

“We need these sheets changed first.” Florence frowned.

“Of course. Do you want me to take you to the living room?”

“I can go if you take care of this?”

“Okay.” Daniel tilted her chin up to press a kiss to her lips.

“I’m sorry.” Florence mumbled as he helped her to her feet.

“Nothing you need to apologize for, darling.” Daniel smiled, “You’re having our baby today.”

Once Florence made it to the living room, she sat herself down on the couch and called the midwife. It was barely 6:45 in the morning and by Florence’s reflection of her state, the midwife said she would come by for 8, telling her to time and note any contractions or important details.

As soon as they hung up, a sharp pain shot through her side and Florence gasped, clutching onto the back of the couch. Of course, it was just when the girls woke up, rushing out of their shared room and down the hall to the master bedroom like every morning. But they found it empty, bed striped and lights on...but empty.

Clementine and Penelope stopped in their tracks, smiles fading with confusion.

“Good morning, my girls.” Daniel greeted them sweetly as he walked back into the master bedroom from starting the laundry.

Smiles back on their faces, the two girls rushed him with hugs until he scooped them both up in his arms.

“Where’s Mummy?” Penelope asked quietly, her head resting on Daniel’s bare shoulder.

“In the living room. Let’s go say good morning.” he carried his two girls across the apartment. Florence was still on the couch and he set the girls down so they could greet her. The last morning of just the four of them.

Florence was forcing a smile through her steady pain, welcoming her daughters’ innocent smiles and excited hugs and kisses.

“Uncle Callum is going to spend the day with you, does that sound nice?” Florence asked as Penelope curled up on her lap. Clementine skipped off after Daniel to help him prepare breakfast a few feet away in the kitchen, shouting her agreement to that statement with excitement.

“What about you?” Penelope whined gently.

“Dad and I have to get ready to meet your baby sister. We think she’s going to be here soon.” Florence explained.

“Today?!” Clementine shrieked from her spot on the kitchen counter.

“Maybe.” Daniel smiled, petting her hair back from her face as she dropped two frozen waffles in the toaster.

“I want to meet baby sister.” Penelope whispered.

“Me too.” Florence smiled, pressing a kiss to her head.

When breakfast was ready, Daniel called the two girls to the kitchen table, setting two plates in front of them with glasses of apple juice. Florence stayed on the couch, another small contraction washing over her. She held tightly to the couch cushion to avoid making a scene in front of the girls, eyeing the clock on the wall that read 7:23.

Daniel finished cutting up the girls’ waffles before he joined Florence in the living room. He bent down in front of her and set his hands on her stomach.

“How are you holding up, sweetheart?” he whispered, glancing up at her with worry in his light eyes.

“Alright so far.” Florence breathed, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Do you want breakfast?”

“No. I’m okay. You eat.” Florence smiled.

“I’m too excited to eat.” Daniel admitted quietly, leaning up to kiss her as he stood up again. “Callum should be here any moment now.”

“Okay.” Florence sighed, taking his hands in hers.

He leaned down to kiss her once more before heading back to the girls.

“Daddy!” Clementine shrieked through a mouthful of waffle, “We can see your boobies while we eat!”

“Then don’t look.” Daniel teased, pressing his finger in her side to make her squeal with laughter.

“Yucky!” Penelope added, sliding off her chair and ran off towards the kitchen with her plate before he could grab her. Sure enough, he scooped her right off the floor, blowing a raspberry against her shoulder. Penelope squirmed in his arms, trying to push his head away from her through her laughter.

The knock at the door had Clementine running for the foyer, Penelope wiggling enough to have Daniel put her down to join her sister.

“You two get your bags and kiss Mommy goodbye.” Daniel instructed, steering them towards their room.

He opened the door for Callum and Aidan, gesturing them inside with a tired welcome.

“Gosh, Dan, pull up your pants. Do you always walk around like this?” Aidan tisked, eyeing his friend’s bare torso and Calvin’s band that was peeking out from under his plaid pyjama pants.

“No wonder my sister got knocked up again.” Callum teased.

“Oh, Callum George, stop it!” Florence called from the living room. The young men joined her, Callum greeting her with a kiss to her head.

“Uncle Cal!” Clementine called, running over to him and threw her arms around his leg, her tiny suitcase discarded in the middle of the room. Penelope stuck with Daniel, curling one arm around his leg shyly.

“Good morning, Clem.” Callum smiled, picking up his niece and sat her on his hip.

“Mommy’s having baby sister today!” Clementine said proudly.

“I know! That’s why you’re going to have a sleepover with us!” Callum explained.

“You excited, Nell?” Aidan asked the youngest, crouching down to her level.

“Yes.” she smiled shyly, her dark messy hair falling over her eyes.

“Shall we head out then?” Callum said. “Center Island won’t wait for us!”

“Center Island?!” Clementine shrieked, her mouth falling open excitedly, looking between him and her mother.

“Yeah! So lets say goodbye and get going!” Callum bent down so she could kiss her mother goodbye.

“Behave yourself, you.” Florence chuckled, kissing her daughter’s head.

“Come here, Penny.” Florence said to her youngest who slunk away from Daniel to climb up on the couch to hug her.

“Have fun with Cal and Aidan, okay?”

Penelope nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Call if you need anything or if anything happens.” Aidan said to Florence, bending down to hug her.

“I will.” Florence agreed.

They headed towards the door, Aidan taking the small pink suitcases in hand.

“Come on, bug.” Daniel said to Penelope, holding out his hand to lead her to the foyer.

“I want to stay with Mommy.” Penelope frowned.

“I’ll take good care of her for you, I promise.” Daniel said sweetly, “You get to go have fun with you sister while we do all the work. When you get back to Callum’s tonight hopefully you can see pictures of baby sister.”

“I want to see her now.” Penelope whimpered, setting her little hands on the baby bump.

“Me too, bug.” Daniel pressed a kiss to her head. “Soon though.”

“Callum and Aidan are going to make sure you have so much fun today.” Florence promised, petting back her daughter’s hair. “Maybe even buy you an ice cream.”

Penelope tried to hide her cheeky smile behind her hair.

“Come on, Nell!” Clementine shouted from the foyer.

“Kisses.” Daniel requested softly, puckering out his lips. His youngest giggled and kissed him once and offered one to Florence before sliding off the couch. She ran after her sister to get her shoes on.

With the girls out of the house, the moment the door closed, Florence let out a pained groan she had been holding in since she woke up.

“What can I get you?” Daniel asked softly, returning back to his place in front of her, running his fingers through her hair.

“Nothing.” Florence breathed, pushing herself up from the couch ungracefully. He helped her with a hand around her waist. “I’m just going to walk a bit before the midwife gets here.”

With her pacing the hallway, Daniel tidied up the master bedroom a little bit, singing quietly as he worked. His soft voice always calmed her and she let her eyes close as she took one slow step at a time down the hallway.

When the midwife arrived, she helped Daniel get the bed re-made and Florence to lay down again. She checked her out a little.

“Looks like you’re already 5cm. Seems like you’ve been in labour for a few hours now. I’m surprised it didn’t wake you.” she chuckled.

“Gosh...it hasn’t been that bad.” Florence said.

“That’s good then. Being able to get as much rest as you can is important. Contractions are steady?”

“Every 5 minutes.” Florence answered. “Short though.”

“That’s okay. Let’s see if you can sleep anymore.”

“I don’t think I can.” Florence admitted.

“Too excited?”

“Just a little.” Florence smiled.

Daniel came out of the walk-in closet in jeans and a white t-shirt with his hair brushed and face shaved. “How are we looking?” he asked.

“Halfway there.” The midwife said.

“Oh, that’s so good!” Daniel smiled.

Florence shifted in her place, whimpering slightly as another contraction came upon her. Daniel climbed next to her and took her hand in his. She leaned on his shoulder with her eyes shut tight, clinging onto his hand.

“They’re getting worse?” The midwife asked.

Florence nodded.

Daniel let his free hand press softly against her cheek and kissed her hair, resting his head on hers. He rubbed his thumb in soft circles over hers.

Florence wanted the calmest and most relaxing birth possible, opting for a home birth for optimal comfort over the unpleasant hospital. The midwife was familiar with home births and throughout the preparation had given good suggestions. Daniel purchased an entire store worth of unscented candles.

Labour was slow but definitely calm, Florence finally getting in the bathtub to try and lessen the growing pain. The bathroom was dimmed to candlelight as she rested with her eyes closed in the warm bath, Daniel sat on the floor against the counter with his guitar on his lap, playing away slowly. His soft voice filled the silent apartment, keeping his eyes on his labouring wife across from him. Her blonde hair was damp at the ends where the water reached, her fingers tightening their grip on the edge of the bathtub, the water sloshing slightly as she flinched in pain.

Daniel hated seeing her like that, small tears welling in his eyes as he kept his voice steady, plucking gently at the guitar strings.

“Dani.” Florence whispered into the air.

He was at her side in an instant, brushing her hair back from her face, his other hand resting over hers, “I’m here, sweetheart.”

Florence licked her lips slowly, her eyes still shut, “Hurts so bad.”

“I know, baby.” Daniel kissed her head. “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

“Can I have some water?”

“Of course.” Daniel reached behind her to the half empty glass, switching hands to rest it against her lips. She took it from him, a shaking hand holding the glass as she sipped. She handed it back to him and he set it down before shifting so he was sitting on the tile floor, kissing her hand.

She fluttered her eyes open, smiling weakly at him, holding her hand against his cheek.

“I love you.” Florence sighed.

“I love you so much.” Daniel leaned in to press a kiss to her pouted lips.

“Can you help me out? I’m kind of chilly now.”

“Of course.” Daniel got up and helped her carefully stand up in the tub, taking her hands to steady her as she stepped onto the bathmat. He draped a towel around her and dried her off, helping her out of her wet bathing suit.

“Sorry, I just-“ Florence leaned forward, tightening her grip on his shoulders and let out a trembling groan.

“Good girl.” Daniel whispered, rubbing his hands over her back. “Breathe through it.”

She let out a steady exhale followed by a soft inhale. When the contraction passed, she stood back up, offering him a pout.

“Let’s get you dressed.” Daniel chuckled. He reached behind him to the counter, grabbing her a clean nursing bra, getting her in it gently. He left the towel draped around her waist, one arm taking hers and the other grabbing his guitar, helping her back to bed. The midwife gave her a second look over, timing the contractions at 2 minutes apart, lasting almost 30 seconds.

“We are moving things right along!” she said. “We’re between 7-8cm now. Doing just fine.”

“I could feel her moving down.” Florence said tiredly, offering a smile to the room.

“That’s good.” the midwife said, pressing her hands to her belly to check the baby’s position. “She’s a well behaved little one too.”

“What time is it, Dani?” Florence asked.

“Almost noon, sweetheart.” he replied, pulling a black tank-top from his dresser drawer as his t-shirt was damp from the bath water.

“Oh gosh.” Florence sighed, resting her head back against the pillow as he changed quickly before sitting on the edge of the bed next to her.

“You’re doing great work, Florence.” the midwife said with an honest smile. “How are you feeling?”

“A little nauseous.” Florence admitted.

“That’s from the pain. Have some water and take nice deep breaths. We can try moving to a better position.”

The midwife helped her kneel on the floor, arms holding the side of the bed. Florence, already tired out, leaned her head against her arms on the mattress, groaning lightly with each steady breath.

Daniel sat behind her, rubbing slow circles over her lower back.

“We have a natural on our hands.” the midwife smiled at him.

“I know.” Florence chuckled breathlessly.

Daniel blushed at the form of flattery, massaging her back and her hips strongly, peppering little kisses over her shoulder.

“Ow-“ Florence scrunched her eyes closed as another contraction hit.

“You’re doing so well.” Daniel praised, his warm hands easing her pain the best he could.

“Fuck...” Florence gripped the bedsheets in her fist.

“Bad one?” Daniel asked. She nodded. “You’re so strong, baby. So amazing.”

She gasped out of her contraction, taking a second to catch her breath before speaking, “Why did we do this again?”

“We’re doing it right this time, remember?” Daniel reminded her gently, keeping his hands rubbing circles over her back. “Bringing another little girl into our life the right way. Together. Because you’re the love of my life...the strongest woman I know...the one and only person I trust to carry my child. Our third baby. Our missing piece.”

“Fuck, Daniel. You’re making me cry.” Florence chuckled through her forming tears.

“Gotta make up all the missed time somehow.” Daniel said, kissing her shoulder.

“Stop with your missed time.” Florence whispered tiredly. “We did everything in perfect time. Anything different and we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You’re right.” Daniel sighed, draping his arms around her waist to rest on her belly. He leaned his head against her shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Florence chuckled, resting one hand over his.

Another contraction came quickly, having her resort back to her double fisted grip on the bedsheets, groaning into the mattress. Daniel kept his arms around her, swaying her hips gently as he hummed a soft tune against her skin. She had only a moment to breathe again when the contraction died down, her head resting on her arms in her small squat, breathing deeply. She let out a sob into her arms as another contraction washed over her, her body clenching painfully.

“They’re much closer now.” Daniel said aloud, putting soft pressure against her lower back and hips. He could feel the heat radiating off of her and he waved his hand by her face to try and cool her down. He didn’t see the midwife leave the room but she was soon handing him a cool, damp face cloth and he thanked her quietly before running it softly over Florence’s shoulders and neck.

“Deep breaths.” The midwife instructed, getting on the ground with them to check out the process of the baby. “Almost there.”

“Almost there.” Daniel repeated.  

“I want to lay down. My legs hurt.” Florence whispered, burying her face in the crook of her arm.

“Whatever is best for you, dear.” The midwife agreed, helping Daniel get her to her feet and back onto the bed. She checked the baby’s heartrate and position again, making a few notes before taking a step back to let Florence breathe. Daniel was curled up next to her, pressing the cool cloth to her forehead and cheeks, following the breathing techniques with her. Florence’s hand was holding the front of his shirt, her eyes scrunched closed and her grip tightening as she contracted again, letting out a small cry of pain.

“Do you want me to sing to you?” Daniel asked quietly.

Florence nodded quickly, biting down on her bottom lip.

He ran his thumb over her lip to make her release it, offering his free hand for her to cling onto instead as he chose a gentle song and sang quietly into the dimly lit room. His voice seemed to echo through the empty apartment, running his thumb over hers, keeping his damp eyes focussed on her face. The curtains were drawn, closing off the bright afternoon sun and leaving the room to candlelight and the single table lamp set up on the dresser for the midwife to work. The soothing scent of lavender wafted from the candle on the right-side night table, just enough to bring a sense of serenity and calmness to the room.

With each contraction, Florence kept her breathing steady, burying her face against Daniel’s chest with her hand gripping his shirt, her other held securely in his. He kept the cool cloth blotting her forehead and neck, the icy dampness relaxing her more, his soothing voice keeping her focussed on something other than the radiating pain. Every minute exactly, she was whimpering against his chest, pulling him close. Daniel’s voice quivered seeing her in such a state but he forced himself to stay strong for her. He had never been a part of the labour process and it absolutely broke his heart to see her like that.

One strong contraction in particular had her letting out a small shriek, flinching intensely in his arms, “Daniel.”

Daniel couldn’t hold back the small sob that fell from his pouted lips, wrapping his arms around her securely and pressed kisses to her head. “I’m here, baby. I got you.”

“Go right into that, Florence.” The midwife praised softly, rubbing her hand over her back, “You’re doing so well.”

“I’m so sorry.” Daniel whispered against Florence’s ear, his quiet tears falling onto her bare shoulder.

Florence shook her head as the contraction died out. “Don’t be sorry,” she breathed heavily, shifting to look at him, holding one hand to his cheek, “God, don’t cry, Dani. It’s all going to be worth it.”

“That’s the spirit.” The midwife smiled, settling on her other side. “Now I’m just going to check baby’s heartbeat.”

She pressed the wand of a small machine to Florence’s bare stomach, the staticky rhythm filling the room. Daniel smiled softly as Florence looked up to him.

“I love you.” Florence whispered, puckering out her lips.

“I love you.” Daniel chuckled, meeting her halfway for a single sweet kiss.

He helped her through another contraction. Her eyebrows were furrowed through it, raising Daniel’s concern a little bit.

When it finished, she shifted onto her back to look towards the midwife, “Can you check me again? I think she’s ready to come out.”

The midwife paused as she checked her dilation, “Well, my dear, you are very in tune with your body. You’re at 10cm. Let’s get this baby out.”

“Now?!” Daniel gasped, looking between the two women.

“Whenever she feels the urge to push, yes!” the midwife chuckled, starting to arrange her things.

“Which will probably be in like 30 seconds.” Florence added lightly.

“Where do I sit? What do you want me to do?!” Daniel asked quickly.

“Calm down, Dani.” Florence laughed as the midwife had her sit up a bit more.

“You can sit behind her if you’d like.” The midwife suggested. “If that’s comfortable for mama of course.”

“Yeah, that works.” Florence nodded, letting Daniel slide his leg behind her. He leaned against the pillows and the headboard as she rested back against his chest. The midwife hurried to set down an extra towel under her and got her legs bent open.

“Okay, with the next contraction, you know what to do. Listen to your body.” The midwife instructed quietly.

Florence took a soft breath, letting Daniel set his hands in hers, linking their fingers together. Sure enough, at the next contraction, she felt the natural urge to push, a feeling that was always so surreal to her. She took a trembling breath before pressing her chin to her chest and pushed. It was nothing she hadn’t done before but it was still a lot, listening to the midwife’s steady count to ten before she could have a second to catch her breath.

“Another count of ten, honey.” The midwife said.

“Oh God.” Florence whimpered, shutting her eyes tightly as she pushed again.

Daniel kept his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over hers, watching her concentration and determination with wide eyes.

“That’s good.” The midwife said. “Catch your breath.”

Florence rested her head back against Daniel’s chest, her breathing shallow. Daniel started another breathing exercise, soon getting her to join.

“You two make a good team.” The midwife smiled up at them.

Florence hummed tiredly in agreement before sitting herself up a little bit more and pushing again.

“Good girl.” Daniel whispered, freeing one hand to pull her hair back from her face before falling to her hip.

“Fuck, Penelope was so much smaller than this.” Florence groaned through another push, her nose scrunched up with the effort she was putting out.

“Just means you’re delivering a healthy, full term baby now.” The midwife said softly. “Keep those pushes coming. You’re doing great.”

Florence took a breath before pushing again, groaning into it with her chin to her chest. She squeezed Daniel’s hand in her own, her right hand on his thigh to hold herself steady. He reached over to grab the paper fan from the nightstand, using his free hand to fan her with it, the cool air making her sigh thankfully.

“Doing so good, sweetheart.” Daniel whispered, peppering kisses along her neck and shoulder.

Florence groaned into the air, her eyes screwed shut, squirming in her place, “Hurts so bad.”

“Keep your legs open, honey. It will make it easier.” The midwife said, trying to keep open the labouring mother’s trembling thighs. Florence hooked her ankles over Daniel’s to ground herself, pulling his arm around her middle as she breathed out of another contraction. The next came fast and she pushed right into it, whimpering loudly.

Daniel could feel her whole body trembling and all he could do was hold her, tucking one hand under her thigh to help keep her legs open, watching over her shoulder as the midwife helped her through it.

“Her head is coming soon. We’re almost at the end!” the midwife announced, letting Florence sit back to breathe after two more counts of ten.

“Dani.” Florence panted, blinking open her tired eyes to him as her head rested lazily against his shoulder.

“You’re absolutely incredible.” Daniel whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I’m so in love with you.”

“I love you.” Florence mumbled. She breathed out deeply before another contraction washed over her. The midwife instructed her to pant light and she did, resisting the urge to simply push with all her might.

“We’re crowning now.” The midwife told them. “Nice steady push now, honey.”

Florence held her breath and tucked her chin down again, offering her a nice slow push, groaning loudly as she did.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow-” Florence cried, clinging onto Daniel’s hand. Taking a deep breath before pushing again.

“That’s it.” Daniel breathed, rubbing his thumb in soft circles over her thigh. “Good job, baby.”

After one more lengthy count to ten, the head was born. Daniel let out a little gasp at the sight of the wet light hair that was poking out between her legs.

“Strong push now, Florence.” The midwife encouraged. “She’s almost here!”

Florence leaned back against Daniel, taking both hands in her own instead of just one, tightening her legs around his, and pushed as hard as she could. Her head rested on his shoulder, her laboured breaths and whimpers against his neck, hands trembling in his as she brought their final little girl into the world. Daniel kept his eyes between her legs, watching completely uncensored as the baby was delivered into the midwife’s hands. And with Florence’s heavy sigh of relief, Daniel let out a small sob, tears spilling down his cheeks as the baby at the foot of the bed let out her first cry.

“1:56pm. June 24th. A beautiful baby girl.” The midwife announced with a wide smile, wrapping her up in a blanket and placed her on Florence’s chest. She instinctively wrapped her arms around the newborn, her own tears trickling down her cheek.

Daniel was right with her, his cheek almost pressed against hers as he stared down at the new arrival wrapped in white. Her shrill cries were nothing but the most beautiful music to his ears and he cried tears of joy along with her.

“Hi, baby.” Florence whimpered happily. “Oh, Dani, look at her.” Florence turned her head a little to look at her beautiful mess of a husband beside her.

“She’s perfect.” Daniel cried, leaning in to kiss her sweetly. “I’m so proud of you. I love you.”

“I love you.” Florence smiled, moving one hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

They stayed there a few quick minutes before it was time to deliver the placenta. It was quick and easy and Florence was honestly too wrapped up in admiring the new little girl in her arms to really notice.

The midwife took the baby to be checked out, weighing her in at 7lbs 11oz and measuring her at 20inches long. She was nothing but perfect; her health was pristine, the delivery went without fault, and soon the baby was quiet and nursing, swaddled in a soft purple blanket in Florence’s arms. Daniel sat beside them, running his fingertips ever so softly over the baby’s thin hair, watching her eat quietly.

“She’s so soft.” he breathed, pressing a gentle kiss to her head.

“I know.” Florence smiled.

“She’s ours.” Daniel sighed happily.

“She is.” Florence whispered.

The midwife came back in after her things were packed up and she was ready to go, “One last thing before I leave, we need to fill out the birth certificate so I can mail it to the government.”

“Of course.” Florence smiled, pulling her blanket that was draped over her shoulders farther over her chest for decency as if the lady who walked in didn’t just deliver her child.

“Does this little girl have a name that you’ve decided on?” she asked kindly, sitting on the end of the bed with her pen and paper.

“Lucy.” Daniel whispered, keeping his eyes on the baby, her tiny hand curling around his index finger. “Lucy Elizabeth Seavey.”

~~

“Aren’t you the prettiest little girl in the whole world.” Daniel cooed gently to the newborn who was laid on the changing pad at the end of the bed. She cried restlessly, tiny legs kicking as he fastened her diaper, her arms curled by her face. He leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek, “Well, out of those younger than 3. I can’t go picking favourites.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Florence chuckled tiredly, tucked into their freshly made bed in a new pair of pyjamas and the uncomfortable post-birth underwear the midwife gave her.

Daniel sent her a small wink before he was tugging off his shirt and gently lifting the baby to his chest. She curled against him, her loud cries softening as her head rested on his shoulder, sucking on her tiny fist. He walked slowly around the room, tossing his shirt in the laundry basket, throwing out the dirty diaper and put away the wipes and things. His steps were cautious, holding the newborn securely with one hand until he could rest at the window, rubbing soft circles over her back as they overlooked the busting city and the setting sun.

Of course, Daniel couldn’t help but sing quietly, offering the quiet room the lyrics to the Beatles song that was the newborn’s namesake. And, like both sisters before her, Lucy was asleep in mere moments by the heavenly voice that Daniel had been blessed with.

He sat himself in bed, making sure to keep the sleeping baby safely against his chest. Florence ran a gentle hand over the thin blonde hair that the newborn donned, before moving her fingertips to Daniel’s cheek, turning him to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“You’re so good with her.” Florence whispered.

“All in the practice.” Daniel smiled, resting his hand out for her to hold. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Tired and sore. But happy.” Florence smiled softly, giving his hand a little squeeze. “So happy.”

He returned it, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. He kept his one hand over the baby’s back as she slept against his chest, making sure he stayed perfectly still so she wouldn’t fall, staring down at her with nothing but love in his eyes.

“Look at her.” Daniel breathed. “We made her and now she’s real and I’m holding her and...”

“I know.” Florence giggled quietly, curling into his side a little.

“And she’s ours.”

“All ours.”

“Our littlest princess.”

Lucy stretched her tiny arms up through a sleepy yawn as if she was trying to drape them over his shoulders. She kept her cheek against his chest, breathing slowly with him.

“She looks so much like you.” Florence breathed, running the back of her index finger over the baby’s cheek.

“She looks more like you.” Daniel said. “All this light hair.”

“Her eyes and nose are all yours.” Florence whispered, gently tracing the curve of Lucy’s tiny nose.

When Daniel didn’t answer after a moment, Florence turned her head up to look at him. He was already looking at her, a soft smile on his lips.

“Thank you for our beautiful family.” He mumbled.

Florence pulled him in for a kiss, “Thank you.”

[weheirsofdurin]

@tiredandgrumpymedic

I was gonna ask for drunk Fin, lol I like your dumb boys

@lordofthegoldenflower Because Ratchet Mun is a shipper of us

Archive of Our Own

Boisterous laughter filled the tavern where the company of dwarves had decided to bed down. The group of thirteen were making their way to a small pleasant little village called The Shire. Thorin yearned to see their friend, Bilbo, one last time as the hobbit was aging and had adopted a child. A relative of the hobbit’s named Frodo and Thorin wanted to meet him. 

Currently they were about A weeks ride from Hobbiton, if Fili remembered correctly, they were in the Prancing Pony at the moment. It had taken them two weeks to travel on pony from Rivendell, though thankfully this time there were no cave trolls, orcs, or wargs. Not even a wizard, Thank Mahal.

The only problem they did have, were the elves. Fili looked over at the table of them, three in total, that Elrond had ‘gifted’ them as a guard. The elven Lord had pulled Fili aside as Thorin raged, and pleaded with the dwarf to take them. His two sons were getting on his nerves and he was sending Glorfindel - the blonde elf - to watch over the two and not let them burden the dwarves.

It had really been more of a favor to the elf than for the dwarves benefit. Fili could see why though, the two dark haired elves were much like he and his brother had been at the beginning of the quest for Erebor. 

As laughter roared up Fili looked away from the elves to Bombur who was in a  chugging contest with Bofur, and seemingly falling behind. Glad to see his friends having fun he looked back at the elves only to notice the blonde one was missing. There was no sign of him having gone up towards the rooms, so he must have gone out for fresh air. 

Excusing himself under the guise of the same he went outside and took in several lungful's of the slightly chilly air. It would be winter soon, he figured. A commotion drew his attention and he saw the elf on the ground, eyes glossy from the drink he and the twins had been indulging in, and a man towering over him - no, kneeling. The elf was beyond drunk, trying to crawl away but he was very unstable in his attempt and using a dagger to slash at his attack was nothing for the man.

As the dagger was knocked away Fili moved, he made it as the man began to tug at Glorfindel’s pants, the elf’s eyes were closed and he limp, likely unconscious already, “Oi,” Fili growled. The man looked up in alarm and was met with a viscously grinning dwarf, a second later was met with a tungsten boot cap under his chin. Fili likely should have held back, and not kicked the man with such a heavy metal, but the crack of the man’s jaw breaking as he flew back gave the dwarf an odd sense of satisfaction. What the man was trying to do was a serious crime in dwarven society and perishable by death. 

The death itself was a ‘purifying’ act. They would take lead and melt it down, refining it, and they would pour it over the convict’s head. Purifying them to enter the halls of Mahal. A painful and agonizing death to match the crime, but a grant of redemption gifted. Satisfied that the man was unconscious, Fili looked down to the elf only to be startled by smoky gray eyes looking up at him. “Lord elf,” It seems he had not been unconscious after all. Probably meditating so as to distance himself from what was about to happen.

Glorfindel began to push himself up, struggling to find his balance and was helped by a hand on his back so he could sit and not fall back over. “You... saved me?” So the elf was drunk enough to have no balance, but he could retain thought and memory - at least at this point in the night.

“Aye, I came out for fresh air and a smoke and saw ye downed.” Shame flitted across the elf’s face and Fili held his other hand out in front of the elf, palm up in offering. When Glorfindel look up at him - reminding the dwarf of a kicked puppy - Fili offered a small smile. “Come, let us sneak in the servants door and order ye a bath.”

The elf’s eyes widened at the innocent offer of help, to hide his shame, how could a dwarf be so kind? Reaching up he put his hand into the warm calloused one and wondered in awe at the feeling. Fili closed his fingers around the hand, thinking that the blush upon fair cheeks was from the drink. “Come, ye need to help me get ye up, for ye are far too tall for me to just heft up.”

Glorfindel tugged at the hand holding his and felt it was firm in it’s hold so using it to help himself he got up. The hand that trailed down his back as he grew in height helped to steady him and keep him from falling right back over. “Master Dwarf, forgive me, I seem to forget who you are.” Glorfindel knew all the names of the company, but only cared enough to know who Thorin was as he was the one leading this trip. Now he wished he had not wasted so much time ignoring his travel companions.

“Tis alright, ye need not remember me.” The dwarf gave up no name and Glorfindel scowled before he was distracted by the hand on his butt. Before he could voice his discomfort he blinked several times and nearly reared back. 

“You shrank, a lot.” The poor dwarf was no higher than Glorfindel’s elbow, and as he reached out to help support the dwarf by his back, it seemed his hand naturally rested on the elf’s bum due to the dwarf’s height. “I stand 206 tall.”

Fili snorted loudly at the most random thing the elf had yet to say. “Nay, I did nay shrink but ye grew. I stand 137. Now, come, ye are a muddy mess from yer fall.” As if only now realizing it, Glorfindel looked down at himself and saw that he was in fact, a muddy mess. 

Stumbling he let the dwarf lead him into the kitchens where a maid looked over and gasped. Letting go of the elf’s back Fili held a finger to his lips and she nodded, understanding silence was needed for the modesty of the drunk elf. “I shall send a bath to his rooms.”

“A platter of meats and cheeses too.” Glorfindel spoke quickly, and she looked to Fili for a confirming nod. Then the dwarf was leading him again and Glorfindel realized the hand was on his butt again and they were still holding hands. It felt nice though and the elf found himself smiling down at the dwarf. “What’s with that look?” Fili looked away after a moment, his own cheeks tinting.

“I am just thankful that you are as kind as you are.” In the room Glorfindel spotted the bed and went to walk towards it only to be held back by the waist of his pants. 

“Dis robe, or ye will cover the bed in muck too.” Feeling the slightest bit shy Glorfindel hesitated and Fili sighed, beginning to undo the tie on the elf’s pants.

“No! I got it!” Swatting the dwarf away his cheeks became brighter and he started to undo his own pants. Finally the tie was undone he pulled his billowy tunic off and tossed it aside then started to take his pants off, a towel was held out to him and Fili refused to look at him. “Oh, thank you.”

Glorfindel managed to get the towel wrapped, though it stayed on it sank low and revealed hard lines of muscle that led down to his groin. Looking up he saw the Dwarf had turned to look at him, and now with wide blue eyes, Fili stared at the hard lines on the elf. Glorfindel felt a warmth in his belly and smirked. “May I lay down now, master dwarf?”

Clearing his throat Fili turned away and climbed to stand on a chair, “Come first. Then ye may. I am going to touch your hair and pull it up so it leaves as little of a mess as possible.” Glorfindel glanced at his side, where his mud caked hair hung past his hips and he snorted.

“I wish you luck. Very little can tame this mess and even then it’s very wild.” Moving over he grabbed a chair himself and sat heavily, tossing his mane over the back so it was free.

“We dwarves have a way with hair.” It was smug and confident.

“Oh do you? If you manage then I shall grant you a kiss, if you lose you shall grant me one.”

“There is no difference, but I will accept the bet.” Glorfindel was taken by surprise at the acceptance and he grinned while blushing bright. 

“You surprise me, Master dwarf. I thought you all to be grumpy like that bastard leader of yours, Thorin Oakenshield. Or his nephews. I don’t know which they are but they are likely as much of a stick in the mud as he.” Fili had been lightly tugging at Fin’s hair but now he paused in his work. 

“Thorin is nay that bad. Tis the stress of travel and being away from Erebor. Tis still a budding kingdom and for him and his heirs to leave now seem unwise to those that live there, but the hobbit is aging and he will nay live as long as our race. Tis said he is already fairly old for his kind. Un- er- Thorin is worried about a lot at the moment. His kingdom, his friend, the one he is trying to woo, a lot is upon his shoulders even if the crown is not there.”

Glorfindel hummed and got lost in thought. So the King under the Mountain was stressed and not just a bastard. “I did not know. Forgive me.”

“Nay, there is naught for you to ask forgiveness for. Thorin <i>is</i> a stick in the mud often. But he is nay a bastard, not once you get to know him. He has needed to close his heart off to others as the loss of friends and family has been great upon him.” Fili gave a solid tug on Fin’s hair and the elf felt surprise at the rougher treatment, but then a twig was toss to the side and Fili patted his shoulder. “All done, tis tamed for now.”

Reaching up Glorfindel made a sound of surprise. He knew he had lost no hair, yet it was all up and not a knotted mess- well not more than it started as. He could feel braids that tamed parts of it while the rest was twisted intricately into a thick bun with the braids wrapping it and holding it. 

“Ye must teach me this, tis solid and will not fall out upon battle!” It wouldn’t bother him in meetings, or upon horseback, even for a quick soak in a hot spring! It wouldn’t get wet or messed up like this and on the days he cared not to dry the mass he could easily put it up as such if he knew how!

“Nay, ye are too drunk now. Perhaps the next time I see ye.” Fili hopped off the chair and tugged at the elf. “Tis time for ye to lay down though, yer bath will be here in an hour still along with yer food.”

“Do not leave, Master Dwarf. Please, keep me company.”

“Ye are far too drunk for me to entertain that thought.” Glorfindel looked confused then blushed bright. He hadn’t meant it the way it had sounded. “Do nay look so alarmed, I will be back but my companions must be curious as to where I have gone. I do nay trust ye to not drown in the bath so I will come. Ye have my word.” With that, Fili turned and left as fast as he had come. 

The elf turned and staggered to his chest of belongings, collapsing to his knees in front of it before beginning to rummage through it. What was with him? Lusting after a dwarf who had <i>saved</i> him. Yearning for hands small but thick and strong to trail over the lines he had worked hard to carve into his body. Groaning at himself he grabbed the bottle he had in his chest and stumbled to the desk where he poured two glasses. He would offer one to the dwarf upon his return as thanks for all that had happened. 

This wine was special to his people and he wished to share it. Lifting the bottle he took a sip from it’s lips and smiled before corking it and putting it on the desk. Falling onto the bed he pulled the pillow close and buried his face into it. He couldn’t wait for his bath to arrive.

[httpjeon]

— 04. risk it all | jungkook

jungkook/reader ― ft. yoongi, jimin, & tae | angst, light fluff | hybrid au

wordcount: 2k

↬ content warnings: hybrid abuse, physical violence, use of pet names, soft jungkook, mating-cycles/in heat

― synopsis: the plan to escape begins, and dangerous circumstances arise. jungkook needs to think quick on his feet to protect you.

note: just one more part left!

blog masterlist | series masterlist

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost, modify, or translate.

Time seemed to move slower and slower and the hours slowed to agonizing minutes. The cool metal of the cage beneath began to offer no help in your overheated body. Sweat covered your skin and you couldn't sleep as you were much too uncomfortable. Yoongi had been doing his best to keep you alert to keep you from falling any deeper.

The most notable thing that happened was the arrival of a new face.

Fluffy ears twitched atop his head matched with pretty blank hair and an orange and black striped tail. He took over Jungkook's cage directly across from you and you could constantly feel his eyes burning holes into you.

"______?" Yoongi muttered one night, voice rough and husky. "You remember the plan right?"

You winced as you struggled to sit up, leaning against the bars to meet Yoongi's concerned gaze. Your breathing was labored, not having enough sustenance lately to move your heavy, exhausted body.

"You're gonna fight?" You answered the main plot Jimin had hatched that you could remember.

"That's right," You could make you Yoongi's smile through the darkness. "The guy over there is Taehyung. Remember him?"

Taehyung.

A tiger hybrid whom Jimin managed to make friends with although that wasn't very hard. He and Yoongi were supposed to fight. That was the plan.

"Guys," Jimin scurried from around the cages to come into sight of you all. he was out of breath and his hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. "I just learned that another buyer is coming tomorrow and he's already paid to take _____. We have to do this tomorrow or we'll lose our chance,"

"That's a week earlier than we planned!" Taehyung spoke, voice surprisingly deep as his tail twitched anxiously behind him. "Are we really ready? Pushing it forward could fuck this whole thing up!"

"Her pre-heats getting worse," Yoongi sighed. "It's going to hit sooner than I expected anyway. I think it's better to move it like Jimin said,"

Your heart ached at their concern for you. But fear prickled at you at the thought of some bastard swooping in and taking you away -- to never see Jungkook again.

"It's decided then," Jimin reached into your cage and gently pet your ear. "We'll get you and Jungkook out of here I promise. I want to make sure you're prepared. Tae and Yoongi are going to really fight tomorrow,"

"I don't want anyone to get hurt..." You whispered, leaning into the comforting touch.

"I know...I don't either," Jimin moved to pet your hair, his fingers catching in some tangles there. "But this is the only way, you know? It has to be believable if the guards are going to leave their posts,"

"What if they kill them for fighting?" You lowered your voice even though you knew both of them could easily hear you.

"Don't worry about that, _____," Taehyung smiled from across you, a cute boxy smile that would have been contagious if you didn't feel so miserable. "They won't do that. They'll probably just throw up in the hold, you know? We can handle that!"

Taehyung's cheerful disposition managed to help calm your racing heart. Thinking it over, you slowly nodded your head before meeting their eyes.

"Alright, I'm ready if you guys are,"

You didn't sleep that night, although that wasn't anything abnormal lately with your pre-heat slowly eating away at your weary body. You blankly stared ahead, wishing your eyes would just close and you could find yourself in a peaceful dreamland. Alas, that wasn't possible as the guards came along with Jimin to escort your section for cage cleanings.

They didn't bother collaring you in your weak state but they chained up Taehyung and Yoongi. You kept your eyes on Jimin as you waited for the signal, having gone over how this would play out many times since learning of your escape attempt.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion as Jimin lightly tugged Taehyung's tail. The feline sprung into action, surprising the guards to the point they weren't able to catch him as he pounced on Yoongi.

Once the two made contact, it was impossible to separate them -- their strength combined too much for mere humans to fight against. They were apex predators literally trying to kill each other -- at least they thought.

For a second you were frozen, the snarls and growls coming from the two predators was enough to send your poor prey-mind into overdrive. Frantically, you looked around for an escape route -- a safe one.

"We have a Code here!" One of the guards shouted, only serving to rile up the other hybrids in surrounding cages. They cheered Taehyung and Yoongi on, shouting words on encouragement to one or the other. More guards arrived, slamming nightsticks against the cage to silence the bystanders.

One of them slammed his nightstick down on Yoongi's back, the wolf yowling in pain but still keeping his grip on the tiger. You winced, covering your mouth to keep yourself from whimpering sympathetically at the sight of blood dripping down his cheek from a well-placed scratch provided by Taehyung.

Jimin found you in the chaos, shoving a ring of keys into your trembling hands.

"These will unlock Jungkook's cage, go before it's too late," He whispered, helping you to your feet and pushing you in the direction of the solitary confinement door that housed Jungkook.

Although your body still felt weak and exhausted, you still managed to scurry to the door. You forced yourself to ignore the hungry gazes and whispers from the hybrids as you passed, no doubt drawn by the scent of your heat beginning. The metal door was impossibly heavy, making your temples throb as you used all the strength you simply didn't have to fit your body in through a small gap.

It was dark and humid inside, dirty concrete walls offering no ventilation. The smell of urine and sweat was strong, making you cover your nose in disgust. As you passed various cages, you were surprised by how unresponsive the hybrids were to you.

Come to think of it, the guards didn't typically come in there from what you saw from your own cage outside.

Jungkook was located at the very end and he was sitting on the dirty floor with his head against the wall looking completely exhausted.

"Jungkook?" You whispered, squinting into the darkness for any movement.

At the sound of your voice, his eyes flew open and he was on his feet faster than you could follow. Reaching through the bars, he cupped you cheek and smiled.

"I'm so happy to see you," Were the first words he said to you and you felt tears sting at your eyes at the relief you felt having him so close.

Your hands were still trembling from the adrenaline as you pulled out and key that had a blue mark from a pen on it, sliding it into the lock of Jungkook's cell and opening it with a solid click.

The second the door was open, you found yourself in his arms. His scent was overwhelming but no less comforting as he cupped the back of your head to hold you as close as he could. Soft lips pressed against your forehead and he smiled.

"You're burning up, we have to get out of here," He muttered.

"Where do we go?" You slowly blinked, everything beginning to rapidly swirl and tilt around you.

"There's a door back here they sometimes come through. Jimin says it leads to a garage and we can get out through there," Jungkook replied, keeping his hands on you to keep you steady. "Get on my back, baby,"

You were too out of it to even recognize the petname as he crouched in front of you and helped you onto his back. Having him in your arms safe and sound, you couldn't stop the few tears that escaped your eyes. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him.

"I missed you so much, Jungkook. I was so scared when they took you away from me," You confessed, fisting his shirt as he made his way to the door at the very back.

"I know. I'm sorry I let me temper get the best of me and they took me away. I was so worried when Jimin told me your heat hit and that a buyer was coming for you. I would never forgive myself if anything ever happened to you, _____,"

The door was a simple wooden one and Jungkook was able to easily open it. You looked around, taking in the last area before your freedom.

It was a concrete garage with two doors big enough to fit trucks.

"This is where they bring in supplies I think," Jungkook adjusted you on his back, making you whine. There was fleeting pressure on your core, reminding you of how your heat was literally looming over you.

He seemed to stiffen suddenly, inhaling deeply.

"You're--" He broke off in a growl and rushed over to the last door. It wasn't locked, probably because it was blocked off from hybrid's view unless someone like Jimin spilled the beans so they never worried about anyone but personnel getting in and out.

As the door was flung open, you nearly cried as you felt the breeze on your sweat-slicked skin. From outside, you were surprised how you well you could hear the shouts and screams of complete chaos within those concrete prison walls.

Jungkook jostled you, carrying you farther and farther away from that place until it completely disappeared from view.

It seemed to be in a really seedy area with worn down buildings and warehouses all around with chain-link fences and blinking streetlamps. You closed your eyes, basking in the cool night breeze.

"We're going to go a bit further until we're a safe distance, alright?" He asked softly, his voice vibrating his back. "Once we're far enough that they won't be able to find us,"

You nodded in response, too worn out to formulate a verbal response. The buildings passed by and the breeze rustled your hair as you felt yourself begin to doze off for the first time in over a week.

However, it didn't seem to last very long as you were awoken with what felt like burning hot needles piercing your skin. You sat up, wrapping your arms around your middle as you began to sob -- unable to stop yourself due to the overwhelming pain.

"Shh, it's alright," Jungkook quickly soothed, kneeling beside you and holding you close to him. "Your heat's hit," He frantically looked around the abandoned house he decided to hole up in.

Your cries broke his heart and he held you close to him. This wasn't a good situation. You didn't have food and he couldn't leave to find any with you in your current state. He felt helpless, soothing your hair.

You wouldn't have the energy to go through with him taking you now. You also weren't in your right mind and he wouldn't take advantage of you.

With your lack of food lately, your poor body wasn't fit to sustain you through a heat. At this rate the fever would no doubt kill you.

There wasn't even water.

The pain was consuming you and it was all you could think about. You couldn't even process how loud you were crying, all you knew was that it hurt. You clung to Jungkook, fisting his shirt in hopes that his scent would at least help ease something. Your body was on fire and you were shivering. It felt like at any moment you would cease breathing and collapse.

Right at that moment you actually wished death would come. Your heats had never ever been this horrid in your life and you wanted it to end.

Jungkook was neck deep in worry and panic that he didn't notice the door creaking open until a flashlight was shining down on the two of you.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

We did this backwards, Silver said.

a wee post-series outtake (tropes! angst! happy ending o wait is that a spoiler? silverflint/flinthamilton) for a dreary yet celebratory anniversary Monday. thank you, black sails & fandom, for making the last 12 months infinitely better *mwa*

p.s. shout out to @clenster who, again, was super nice about not laughing to my face when i told her i did not think i would ever ship silverflint haha ha aha that was sure a funny joke i made way back then (whelp)

Everything went too quickly, too slowly. At one point, Flint imagined trying to tell the story of it to Thomas and Thomas sighing with embarrassment on Flint's behalf, if also charmed and possibly even ready to discuss how Flint might pursue the next encounter. Madi: would not be surprised at what had happened in her bed. Would probably also not match Thomas's enthusiasm. She wasn't due back for a week or longer, but Flint decided it was best not to think about her for the time being anyway.

"We did this backwards," Silver said.

For several minutes Flint had been idly stroking a long vein scored down Silver's arm, after he'd been able to move, while Silver raked his fingers through Flint's hair. Flint lifted his head off Silver's chest and hoped his expression hid any confusion. "I." He scratched the bridge of his nose. "You're not talking about." He waved a hand.

"No," Silver said, pushing a strand of Flint's hair away from his eye. "Well. Not the act itself."

Flint kissed the underside of his chin. "Acts."

"Right."

Flint shifted off Silver to lie on his side and brought Silver with him. Silver's hand on Flint's bare hip was as warm as a brand.

"I think. I am pretty sure." Silver took a breath. "I should have apologized, first."

Before we fell into bed? Flint thought. The morning sun had long since vanished into fog, leaving the narrow bedroom in shadow.

Flint considered what to say. "You told me once you saw what I saw, a world where there was nothing left to lose." He watched a white moth fluttering at the top of the window nearest the bed. "I might have said you were right, that day in the forest." He felt Silver's gaze like it had a measurable weight and kept his eyes on the moth. "Only it wasn't true. Even if you had been lying about Thomas."

"What do you mean?" Silver murmured.

"I think there is reality as one perceives it at the moment it is supposedly invoked, and there is the actual truth. And here is the difficulty. Then, in the forest: perhaps I would have agreed with you. My rage was as loyal a companion as I have ever known; it blinded me to many things yet I pretended, at various times with or without acknowledging the subterfuge, I could still see clearly. Whatever could have come as a result of the war, I had already forfeited my life. I might have claimed my own losses could not be multiplied, and therefore war could not harm me."

Silver watched him without moving, without seeming to breathe.

Flint's eyes prickled with tears. "It would have been a lie, because you could have died." He finally let himself look at Silver again, who looked back without recoiling, whose chin trembled and eyes burned.

"I should've, rightfully, had a hundred nightmares about the men I put in the ground," Silver said in a voice thick with tears that he was pretending was not thick with tears. "Stabbed, shot, cut down -- few innocents among them, but. Dead because I made it so. Dufresne at least, if no one else. Would be only fair, if fair were how it worked, to have suffered a nightmare or two. What a long litany of horrors to choose from."

For just a moment, Flint glimpsed the way Silver had woven tales for the crew, the way he tempered his voice to precisely the right timbre and turn of phrase, and depending upon what Silver had wanted them to feel the words ripened or rotted like fruit. It was more than skilled. It was a type of power Flint had envied and feared. But Silver's expression was agonized.

"I suppose there have been plenty of nightmares, if I tell you true, remembered or not," he said. "Madi lying dead in the carcass of your old house, burnt unrecognizable. The axe falling, or the saw in Howell's grip. Muldoon trapped as the water's rising and I too weak to free him or do anything but watch.

"You," he said to Flint more softly. "Sinking far beneath the waves. Your throat slit during a raid. You slashed and broken among island tree roots; you felled at the entrance to a cave crawling with maggots and bats." He smiled a brief sad smile. "Maybe it's fitting. I killed you, after all."

No, you didn't, Flint wanted to say; you may have tried, but you didn't; I'm here because you returned my life to me, more than once. It didn't seem like the right time to interrupt. He gentled his fingers through Silver's hair and waited.

Silver watched him as if for permission to continue. "I must admit, there was something -- it was starting to wear me down a bit. Some mornings, I would rise feeling as though I'd slept again on the ship, in one of those damn smelly hammocks. Or like I'd drank a case of rum when I hadn't had a sip in a week."

Flint leaned slightly into Silver's hand while Silver traced his right eyebrow with his thumb.

"I finally caught it, that dream," Silver said. "The first night after Madi had left; wind at three o'clock in the morning startled me right out of sleep. That's when I saw there in the darkness the whole of it."

He had Flint's full attention.

"You and I stand at the rail on the wet deck," Silver said. "Behind us the crew works, unceasing. The air smells like seaweed, gunpowder, smoke from who knows what. We're cutting through choppy waters, headed north, north east. Sails on the horizon."

Flint could picture the setting with such clarity it seemed almost as if Silver had spellbound it into existence, pulled in an ocean to cover the bedroom floor, knitted the bones of all those dead men, their men, back together to run ropes and pack cannons. Silver in a long blue coat, pressed at Flint's side, solid, constant, almost as near as they were now lying together in the tiny bed.

Silver said, "We're not talking, because we don't need to. We both know what will happen soon, and it doesn't matter; we are of one mind."

His voice had grown softer. Flint felt each word in his own throat like stones.

"Night after night after night. Watching that ship come closer. You and I, shoulder to shoulder," Silver said, his voice quieting until it was so low Flint strained to hear. Silver traced Flint's eyebrow again, traced the line of Flint's jaw. "I lied to you, that time I said Madi was my only weakness. But I lied to myself too, didn't I?" A ruinous sorrow shone in his eyes.

What haunted you was not the dream, Flint thought, but the waking; and it was nearly too painful, too astonishing a thought to be endured. He rubbed his thumb across Silver's lower lip, felt the shiver that laced through Silver just before he kissed him, Silver's mouth soft and warm as he let Flint slip inside. Flint pulled Silver's leg over his hip, deepened the kiss, tightened his fingers in Silver's hair, discovered again how easily his body and Silver's fit together. Friction, heat, breath, another beginning; something sacrosanct, something splintered made whole.

~

As it happened, he could find no words later when he arrived back at the inn. Thomas opened the door, took one look at Flint's face, ushered him in fast, and wrapped him in an embrace when the heavy door was firmly bolted; Flint could feel him exhale with relief as he pressed his face to Flint's hair. They undressed each other, Thomas skimming fingertips over those lightest of bruises Silver had left on Flint's shoulders, his hips and lower back. Flint should have been exhausted but sleep was a ways off still, and he made no complaint.

When they did finally rest, curled around each other, Thomas said, "So. Your day seems to have been productive. Does Mr. Silver know of any rooms to let here in town?"

Flint smiled, and kissed him again.

[thewarlocksbitch]

I will be your: hands, eyes, heart

prev - chapter 5 - next

word count - 5.8k

thank you to chloe for beta editing

read it on ao3

+

Adam woke to loud knocking Saturday morning, and it took a minute for his sleep stupid brain to understand that it was coming from outside his door.

He sat up and murmured a sleepy greeting to Noah, only to realize Noah wasn't there. There was only rumpled bedsheets and a perfectly pressed pillow. Maybe he'd stayed at a friend’s.

“Parrish? Adam? You in there?”

Adam picked his jeans up from the floor and pulled them on as he walked to the door, trying to think of what was waiting for him on the other side. A cancelled class? An insufficiently paid book fee? Someone with better grades or more money raring to take his scholarship?

Adam opened the door. Some guy he'd never seen before was standing there. He pointed down the hallway. “Phone,” he said.

Adam watched him walk away. He left the door hanging open behind him and padded barefoot to the shared dorm phone.

The phone was on the table, face up. Adam picked it up with sweaty hands. “Hello?”

“Hi, Adam? It’s Gansey.”

Adam breathed out a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall. “Hi, Gansey,” he said.

“I didn't ask for your number yesterday because I'd assumed Ronan would have it, which was stupid of me. He's not a friend to phones, or their numbers for that matter. So I found this number in the student directory.”

“I don't have a phone,” Adam told Gansey. He closed his eyes; he felt drained, and heavy, like his body was missing more than sleep. “What's up?”

“Well,” Gansey said, “Ronan’s still asleep, but him and I are going up this mountain later today. There’ve been strange energy readings from the base of it that match the energy readings I have from the faerie ring. I want to get higher up and see what's there. If you wanted to come with us, if you're not busy, I was thinking that you might be able to feel changes in the line….”

Adam had seen Ronan in Latin on Friday, but he hadn't seen Gansey since Tuesday, when strange things had happened with the faerie ring. He would not lie to himself: he was nervous.

No, nervous was not the word to describe the feeling. He was unhinged, unmoored, undone. He’d been fighting with himself the past few days, trying and failing to make sense of what had happened.

He knew it couldn't be real, but it was. He wanted to believe in it, but it was hard to. It's not real, it's not real, Adam told himself. But he had heard the faeries, felt the line, seen Gansey’s awestruck face. He couldn't make himself feel indifference when he had such solid evidence.

But still…. Adam thought, never able to believe in something so wholly, never able to beat the untrust hard instilled in him. At the very least, he would climb a mountain and sweat with some boys he had just met. At the very least, they'd laugh and tell him it had only been a joke.

Adam didn't have anything to do but catch up on sleep, so there wasn't much to lose by saying yes.

After telling Gansey he would go and consequently listening to another few minutes of faerie-filled rambling, Adam hung up and went back to his room.

“Hey!” Noah said, jumping at Adam from behind the door and nearly giving him a heart attack. Adam slipped past him to the kitchen for a drink. Noah stepped on his heels with how closely he followed Adam to the tap. “You're up!” Noah said. “Want some breakfast?”

Adam got his water and backed away out of Noah’s space. He let himself slump against the wall for the second time that morning. Noah went to the microwave, as perky looking as ever in his rumpled university sweater and faded jeans. Adam rubbed a hand over his eyes. The rate his heart was going at couldn't be healthy.

“What's for breakfast?” he asked.

Noah tapped an enthusiastic, uneven beat on the microwave, then threw his hands up when it beeped. He punched it open and tossed a steaming bag to Adam. “Pancakes!” he said.

Adam gingerly let the pancakes flop onto the counter. He looked around the kitchen, but the counters were bare save the usual box of protein bars, chips, and miscellaneous coffee cups. “Did you go grocery shopping?” he asked.

“Nah,” Noah said, grinning, “I just swiped them from the cafeteria. They taste better when you cook them in your own microwave!”

“Right,” Adam said. “Thanks, Noah.”

Noah shrugged in his weird, erratic way and jumped up onto the counter. He pulled his knees  to his chest and propped his head on them; the patient look on his face told Adam he was going to very happily watch Adam eat his twelve miniature breakfast pancakes.

Adam ate as fast as he could as Noah told him about everything that he had done in the past week, repeating some stories and details Adam already knew. When Adam was done he checked his watch.

“Hey,” he said, gently interrupting Noah’s tirade on the campus police officers, “I’m about to go hiking with some new friends, so,” he turned to find his shoes, stalling because he was unsure if it was okay to invite Noah. He knelt down to double knot his laces.

Noah hopped down from the counter. “I’ll go with you!” he said happily. “I love hiking. Didn't I say that a while ago?”

“Oh, okay,” Adam said, standing up. “Do you-”

Noah tapped the toe of his sneaker on the toe of Adam’s. “I've got my shoes, you've got your shoes. All set all set! Are we going now?”

Adam nodded, staring down at Noah’s shoes.

They were the same pair of converse he wore everyday, with fraying laces and beat-up soles. They were crappy in the real way, not in the fake, desperate way that Adam saw so many students showing off. It comforted Adam, a little, to have someone like Noah in his life, someone who was so much like him; someone who was careful about buying bikes and, despite his unstable personality, always knew when things needed to be quiet.

Adam had never asked Noah about his home life because Noah had never offered, but he guessed the beat-up shoes and obsession with material possessions meant Noah was a runaway like him.

A pretender.

Noah tapped Adam’s shoe again. “Where are we going? Exactly?” he asked.

“Gansey said to meet at the Starbucks off campus. I don't know where we're going after that.”

“Okay,” Noah said, though he sounded concerned. Adam looked up at him. Noah shrugged happily and ruffled Adam’s hair. “Cool! Let's go.”

+

The walk to Starbucks was short, the wait much longer. Neither Adam or Noah ordered coffee, so they sat and waited, Noah chattering away while Adam watched student after student pay for six dollar coffees with wallets full to bursting.

For the hundredth time that morning Adam wished he had a cell phone. Calling Gansey to see how far away he was wouldn't do him any good, but the ever present want inside him hungered nonetheless; to be able to look something up without having to go to the public library computers, to aimlessly glance at a blank screen when walking to class or feigning disinterest, to have something in his pocket of the shape and weight of casual wealth.

One day, he told himself. His terrible mantra. The headache that was always hanging behind his eyes. One day.

A chill pricked the nape of Adam’s neck. Noah was watching him.

Adam looked over at Noah, but Noah wasn't paying him any attention. He was quiet and calm, the breeze from the air vents overhead ruffling his colorless hair. He had upended a bowl of sugar packets onto the table and was busy making a castle out of them. He pushed the two salt and pepper shakers against either side of his creation to reinforce the center, but it was all for naught; his hand shook, and the castle fell apart. Immediately he began building it again.

Adam looked back at the line of customers, and there was Gansey, looking hectically and effortlessly attractive in dark shorts and a half tucked in white t-shirt. In one hand he held his thick journal full of all things Glendower; the other hand reached for a coffee while his smiling mouth thanked the barista.

Adam tried to find Ronan, but Gansey spotted him and waved him to the door before he managed to. Probably Ronan was waiting outside with Chainsaw and couldn't come in.

“Noah,” Adam said, getting up. “Gansey’s here.”

Noah looked up from his castle. “Ganseywhat?”

Adam pointed to the door. “My friend. He's here.”

“Right,” Noah said. He put all of the sugar packets back and jumped up. Adam led him out of the air conditioned building and into the heavy Virginia morning.

Gansey was right outside the door, sipping his fancy iced coffee and looking unpleasantly hot already. At his side, Ronan was sullen and sweating in a black muscle T and jeans too messily ripped for it to have been on purpose. Hunched on his shoulder, Chainsaw didn't look very happy, either.

Gansey greeted Adam and together they walked to where the Camaro waited in the parking lot. He unlocked it, turned around, and did a double take when he saw Noah still behind Adam. It wasn't the first time Noah had gone unnoticed by the people around him, so Adam didn't agonize over his feelings. Gansey looked over at Ronan, but Ronan was too busy grinning at Noah to notice.

"This is my roommate," Adam said uncertainly. “Noah.”

Gansey reached out a hand to Noah, but Ronan pushed past him. Chainsaw chirped nervously and wiped her beak underneath Ronan’s ear.

“I remember you!" Ronan said to Noah, more joyful than Adam had yet seen him.

"Oh," said Noah. He half hid behind Adam like a shy child. His hands were cold where they gripped Adam’s elbow.

"At the Blue. You totally fucked that kids car." "Oh," said Noah, meeker this time. "A frat party?" asked Ganesy, concerned - though he seemed happy Ronan had a friend. "What were you doing-” His expression turned tense.  "Ronan. Don't tell me you were with-" "Then don't ask," Ronan said cheerily. It didn't miss Adam that Ronan all of the sudden was not looking his way. Ronan directed his attention to pilfering the Camaro’s keys from Gansey’s pocket.

"Noah, wait," Adam said, finally processing what Ronan had just said. "You crashed someone's car? Were you drunk?" "No," Noah said, very unconvincing as he shuffled his feet. He looked up at the sky and down at his shoes, at the sweating coffee in Gansey’s hand, and at every other point that wasn't one of the others’ eyes. "How are you paying him back?" Adam asked. He knew Noah had to have at least a little more money than him, considering the eagerness with which he collected material possessions and the laden care packages he brought to the dorm monthly, but that still wasn't saying much.

"There was a rainbow..." was all Noah said, and Ronan's laugh and Gansey's sigh stopped Adam from saying anything else. Their unconcern made him feel something ugly inside. One day, he told himself. One day.

Gansey wrestled his keys out of Ronan's grasp and pointed a warning finger at him. With no discussion and a decent amount of swearing from Ronan, Noah and Adam clambered into the back of the Camaro, Gansey threw himself into the driver's seat, and Ronan slumped into the passenger seat.

Gansey grabbed his headrest and turned around to face the back. Ronan stole his keys again and turned the air on. Gansey paid him no mind. He was looking at Noah, thoughtful.

“Noah, was it?” he asked. Hot air began to wheeze through the vents.

Noah nodded. “Yep. Noah.”

Adam saw Ronan roll his eyes in the rear view mirror. They both knew where this conversation was going.

“What do you know about Welsh kings?” Gansey asked.

Noah looked out the window. He watched a group of students for a few moments, then shrugged. “I know a lot about the stories of sleeping kings, like Glendower and stuff. And all the stuff with how he's supposed sleeping to be on a ley line, and he can be woken up by whoever finds him and grant a wish and all that.”

Ronan laughed once, loud. He caught Adam’s eye in the rear view mirror and then Adam was laughing, too. Chainsaw cawed and flapped up to sit on the shoulder of Ronan’s seat, her feathers ruffled with excitement. Adam laughed until it hurt, looked up to see Gansey’s dumbstruck face, and laughed some more. Noah observed all of this with faint interest until, gasping, Ronan punched Gansey’s arm and said, “Shit, man. He stole all your lines!”

“Oh,” Noah said. “Sorry.” He reached a hand towards Chainsaw, curious, then drew it back before touching her. The raven hopped down to Adam’s knee. Adam pet her like he'd seen Ronan do and she gave a happy chirp.

He looked up to try and catch Ronan’s eye again but Ronan was already watching him. Adam felt himself flush and he looked at Gansey instead.

“I didn't tell him anything,” Adam said to Gansey. He turned to Noah. “How did you know all of that?”

Noah reached a hand towards Chainsaw again. He didn't quite meet Adam’s eyes. “I like reading about that stuff, I guess,” he said.

Gansey made a pleased sort of sound. He didn't seem bothered that Noah didn't notice him grinning in the rearview mirror. He didn't seem like he could be bothered, by anything. His happiness did not dull or sharpen in accordance to others. It simply existed as it was, bright and pure, easily distinguished from every other emotion in its sheer magnitude. He asked Noah, “Do you know about faerie rings?”

Noah shook his head. “Nope,” he said.

Gansey smiled some more, and told him. He told him about the ring they'd found deep in the forest, and what had happened when Adam stepped inside it. He told him about ley lines, about Glendower, and about his desperate search.

“Wow!” Noah said. “Awesome.”  He seemed ready to believe anything Gansey said. He didn't ask Adam why he hadn't told him about the ley line or the faeries’ voices. He didn't ask anything at all, except, “Ronan, where did you get your pet bird?”

Ronan was quiet. It was only for a moment, but Adam noticed it. “I found her,” he said.

Gansey pulled the car out of the lot and got them on the road.

After a few minutes of driving, Ronan started punching buttons on the radio at random. Adam watched him, and Gansey ignored him. Again Noah reached for Chainsaw and again he withdrew his hand when she looked at him.

Finally, Gansey said, “Annoying it isn't going to make it work.”

“It’s such a piece of shit,” Ronan said, without anger. “You should throw it out and plant some mint in its place. Start an on-road business.”

Gansey seemed to consider this. Then he reached a hand over to rub it across the dashboard. “The Pig wouldn't appreciate that.”

Ronan muttered something. He turned around in his seat to check on Chainsaw, then turned back and looked out the window.

“Sing for us if you want music,” Gansey suggested.

Ronan snarled something back in a nasty tone.

Gansey glanced at Adam and Noah in the rearview mirror. “Ronan used to perform in Irish music competitions,” he said. “He has a lovely voice.”

“Gansey,” said Ronan.

“Ronan,” said Gansey.

Ronan continued to stare out the window. Then, with a savage smile, he started to sing, “Squash one, squash-”

The Camaro swerved, and Ronan laughed maniacally. Noah grabbed onto Adam’s arm.

“No,” Gansey gasped. “Not that. Never that.”

“I didn’t think it was bad,” Noah whispered in Adam’s ear.

Ronan punched the radio again. Reluctantly, it let out a static rendition of Mr. Brightside. Gansey grinned and pointed at him in a meaningful way. They drove.

+

Finally Gansey pulled the Camaro over and killed the engine. They weren't at a toll booth for public hiking like Adam had expected, but were instead parked in grass that was so tall it reached the windows. Dirt road stretched out ahead of them, and thick forest framed either side of it.

Adam hadn't paid enough attention on the way to know where they were, but he knew at least that they weren't on public land. He wondered who Gansey had bribed to let them trespass. He wondered if Gansey would go so far as to break the law.

Gansey grabbed his journal, electromagnetic frequency reader, and GPS from the dash and got out of the car.

“Chainsaw,” Ronan said. Immediately the raven hopped to the console and allowed Ronan to put her on his shoulder. Ronan opened the passenger side door and got out. Adam and Noah followed.

Gansey walked around the Camaro’s steaming hood to the others, already flipping through his journal. He stopped in front of Adam and Noah.

“I’ve been here a few times in the past two weeks,” he said. “I haven't climbed the mountain yet, but the energy readings around the base match those we found around the faerie ring almost exactly, so I want to see if they’re the same higher up as well.”

“And you think I’ll be able to feel the line up there, too,” Adam said. Already he felt something beating like a heart in his heels and fingertips, but it was possible that was only his own nerves.

“I know you will,” Gansey said, full of confidence. He held up the EMF. “This doesn't stop working on different points on the line, so neither will you.”

Adam wanted to point out that him feeling an energy source that may or may not exist was not an exact science, and so it could not be predicted, but he just nodded and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. As they all began into the forest, it occurred to him that Gansey thought of him as both a magician and a machine. He closed his eyes and felt for the ley line underneath him. He wasn't bothered by the idea.

Unlike the other forest Gansey and Ronan had brought him to, this one had no paths or clearings at all. Ronan swore up ahead as another branch caught around his body, and Chainsaw screeched. Behind him, Gansey tried to placate the bird and got his finger bitten instead.

“Don't be an asshole,” Ronan scolded her. “You can go and look around, just don't go far and don't try fucking with any snakes.”

Noah tripped and caught himself on Adam’s arm. “Oh, geez,” he said.

“‘Oh, geez’?” Ronan repeated.

Gansey looked over his shoulder at Adam. “Do you feel it?” he asked.

Adam nodded. “I think so. But it's not as strong as last time.”

“Ronan?” Gansey asked.

“Could be it’s actually weaker here and the EMF is inaccurate, could be because he's focusing too hard instead of just feeling it. Hell if I know.”

Adam shielded his eyes with his hand as he looked up at Ronan. He was facing away from Adam, his head turned up to the sky to watch Chainsaw above them. He was flushed and sweating, and there was something weirdly charming about his unwavering yet uncaring belief in these supernatural forces when he himself couldn't feel them.

Adam ducked under a branch while Gansey held it aside for him, then held it for Noah, and then they were at the base of a stone face that inclined steeply upwards.

“We’re here!” Gansey shouted, his face turned up to the sky, arms spread like the wind was lifting them.

He stood like that for a moment, looking less like the Gansey that Adam was starting to understand and more like a statue of a war hero or a defender of the world. Then he resumed the loose, giddy posture and gait of a boy adventuring. He jogged ahead of Ronan to a gathering of boulders at the base of the mountain, knelt down on the ground, and set his journal down in front of him. Flipping through the pages with one hand, he dug the other into his pocket and pulled out a tape measure.

Adam and Ronan went to Gansey’s side while Noah hung behind them, his hands gripping his elbows. He was wearing his usual long-sleeved university sweater, and unlike the others he seemed completely unaffected by the heat, but very affected by something else entirely. He wasn’t sweating, and he looked paler than usual.

“Noah?” Adam asked, half turning away from Gansey. “You okay?”

Noah nodded, not really paying attention. He was starting to look less like the excitable version of himself and more like the quiet, barely there version.

Adam looked back at Gansey. He was writing down measurements in his journal, the tape measure forgotten on the ground, Ronan watching him over his shoulder with his arms crossed.

“I knew you'd want proof,” Gansey said, getting to his feet, “so I wanted to wait to show you these measurements for when you could see them for yourself.”

He handed Adam the journal and stepped close enough that Adam could feel his body heat. It was open to a page full of sketches of boulders with notes underneath them and arrows pointing upwards. Written along the margins were lists of measurements ranging between a few centimeters to half a foot.

Adam looked up at Gansey. He was smiling. He didn't seem to be able to stop. Ronan was frowning behind him. Adam believed less and less by the second that they might be joking about all of this.

“They've been rolling upwards?” Adam asked Gansey. He was starting to like this way of talking with him, this heated exchange of questions and answers.

Gansey nodded. He took his journal back from Adam and pointed to the top of the mountain above them. “I think we'll find the reason why at the top.” he said.

They began their ascent. It was not an extremely steep mountain, but ten minutes in Noah began stumbling behind Adam.

“Look,” Gansey said to Ronan, showing him the EMF.

Ronan glanced at it but kept on walking. “It'll probably go back up in a second.”

Noah made a surprised sort of sound as he slipped, loud enough that Gansey heard. Gansey stopped and looked back at him. “Noah?” he said, concerned. “Are you okay?”

Noah shrugged. He looked nervous. “I'm just… I don't think I’m very good at this.” He rubbed a hand over his cheek and looked away. “I'm sorry…”

Ronan looked a few degrees past irritated, but Gansey turned around without hesitation and went to Noah’s side. “I’ll walk in front of you,” he offered. “We’re almost to the top anyways. Just follow my steps exactly.”

Noah shrugged again. “Okay.”

Gansey made, from what Adam could hear, many valiant but fruitless attempts at small talk with Noah. His enthusiasm wasn't affected at all by the slowness of Noah’s replies.

Adam followed Ronan the rest of the way up. He could see the top already, thick with trees and fog. He tried to feel the ley line under him, tried to listen for that hum in his pulse - nothing. It was like it was dead. Like it had never been.

He didn't bother telling Gansey until they reached the top. There was no point if the line ended up coming back on.

A few minutes later, they reached the top. And the line was still dead, and there was nothing there.

Gansey breathed out a soft swear word. He looked up from the dead EMF reader. “Anything, Adam?” he asked, voice hopeful.

Adam shook his head.

Gansey's face fell. Ronan punched him on the arm. “Hey, man,” he said. “Don't get all emo. It's just like in Henrietta. The line gives no fucks about being predictable.”

“It'd been pretty predictable up until now,” Gansey said, pouting. “I thought there'd be at least something. Something connected to the faerie ring. A clue, maybe. ”

“Life isn't a mystery novel, Gansey,” Ronan said, but he didn't say it stern.

“I just thought,” Gansey started, then he shrugged. “I don't know. Let's go back to the faerie ring.”

“Now?” Adam asked.

“Christ, no.” Gansey laughed, but it was weak. “Later. Not today. Now I think it's in our best interest to go to The 90’s and stuff ourselves with pizza.”

“Um, Adam,” Noah grabbed Adam’s sleeve. His breathing was fast. “I don't feel good. I think I need to go.”

“We’re leaving,” Adam reassured him.

Gansey smiled at Noah, bright as the sun. “The altitude might be getting to you. The air’s thin up here.” He looked around the clearing, eyes excited despite the disappointing nothing they'd found. He clapped Noah on the shoulder on his way back down the mountain. “You'll feel better once you've had some pizza.”

Ronan followed Gansey. Noah stared after them, then turned a startled look on Adam.

“Adam-” he started.

“You don't have to eat,” Adam told him. He preceded Noah down the mountain. “Let’s go.”

+

Adam caught Blue’s eye just a few minutes after they were seated. She was working a table across the restaurant, notepad in hand, her spiky hair going in every direction. She waved. Adam waved back. Then he turned around to see Gansey watching.

“So Blue’s working tonight,” Gansey said nonchalantly. He was decidedly not looking at Ronan.

Noah elbowed Gansey in the side, suddenly bold. “She's cute, dontcha think?”

Gansey coughed into his fist. “She is attractive, sure, like a…. like girls tend to be, I mean…” he trailed off as their waiter showed up.

Their waiter tonight was an older man, which was a disappointment ; but he took their orders with a significantly less amount of impatience than Blue had, which was a relief.

Again there was talk of ley lines, but it was more for the pleasure of it than to figure anything out. They had hit a sort of dead end, and Gansey was rallying the only way he knew how.

He entertained Noah with a book's’ worth of legends and theories, intermittently interrupted by Noah’s appreciative ooh’s and ah’s. Adam half-listened to them as he watched Ronan cut lines into his napkin with a fork.

Finally their pizza arrived and Gansey stopped talking to shove it in his mouth with the typical unselfconscious desperation of a college student. Ronan grabbed two pieces and put them on Adam’s plate, then grabbed two for himself. Noah politely shook his head at Gansey’s offer and sat with his hands in his lap.

“So, Adam,” Gansey said, putting down his pizza long enough to look Adam in the eye. “I was wondering if you would you be interested in an internship with a law firm my father is affiliated with? He was telling me yesterday that they're looking for bright college students willing to work next summer and I thought of you.”

Adam put his pizza down. Something simmered in his gut, ugly and familiar. He told himself not to be offended. He told himself that he had grown past letting every little thing hurt his pride.

But he could feel Noah’s and Ronan’s eyes on him. And this wasn't a little thing. He knew it was an act of charity, even if Gansey didn't think it was.

It was charity to Adam. It was charity because it was something he needed. Gansey did not need an in to the game; he didn't need the bright smiles or genial slaps to his shoulder. Adam did. He needed their questions, their interest in his future, their yearning for his youthfulness. He needed their internships and their sponsorship money. He needed their impressive names at the bottom of job applications, their insistence on his amiable character.

“You thought of me,” Adam said.

Gansey nodded. “It's a few hours from campus, so you'd need to live nearby during the summer, but that can be arranged.”

Adam looked down at his pizza. “I’d have to think about it,” he said carefully.

“No rush,” Gansey said, “I just wanted to let you know.”

Gansey went back to Glendower. Adam went back to his pizza. After a while, Ronan’s leg fell against his.

Adam stilled. He considered moving over to give Ronan more room, but he didn't want to piss Ronan off, or make him feel awkward.

He leaned forward to get a bite of pizza, his leg shifting against Ronan's. Ronan's hand dropped from beside his plate to touch Adam's knee, for just a second before moving away. Adam swallowed. He didn't know if that had been an accident. If Ronan had even noticed.

Adam looked at Ronan out of the corner of his eye. He was slumped over the table, slurring something to Gansey about cars.

Ronan’s eyes slid over to Adam’s and caught, then briefly dropped to his lips in a distracted, flighty way before going back to Gansey.

That had to be intentional. Adam felt himself flush, unsure if he was self-conscious or flattered. He looked at Noah to see if he had noticed, but Noah was busy staring at Gansey. There were no witnesses.

He bent his head over his pizza and listened to Gansey ramble on about the faerie circle and Ronan shoot down every inventive theory he came up with. His pulse was a chaotic thing inside him.

He watched Ronan, but Ronan didn't look over at him again. Adam wasn't sure if he was surprised. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be.

Later, a few minutes before closing, Blue brought them their bill. “I stole your table from Ron,” she said, a little nervously, looking mostly at Adam.

“Was he upset?” Gansey asked. He politely put down the pizza crust he'd been picking at and looked at her.

Blue smiled, a little. “Delighted, actually,” she said. “He thanked me.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally,” Gansey said.

“Hm,” said Blue. She put her hands on the table and leaned forward. Noah shrunk away from her. “I heard you guys talking about ley lines, and faeries, and, well, I heard a lot. Anyways,” She leaned away from the table and stuck her hands in her jeans pockets. “I come from a family of psychics, so I'm familiar with all that. I just haven't heard anyone talk about it since moving here.”

Ronan shoved Adam. Adam startled and looked at him. “Come on,” Ronan said, his eyes on Gansey. “Let’s get out while we can.”

Adam followed Ronan’s gaze to Gansey’s face; it was lit up like it always was when he talked about all things Glendower. His mouth was hanging open slightly as well, but that probably had more to do with Blue than thoughts of long lost sleeping kings.

Adam gestured to Noah, but Noah was looking between Gansey and Blue like they were his favorite show. Adam shrugged and slipped out of the booth. He led Ronan outside to the parking lot.

It was night now, heavy with streetlight and the buzz of cicadas. Ronan lazily dragged his shoes on the asphalt on his way to the Camaro. Adam hesitated for a moment, then went to stand beside him. With a little smile, Ronan knocked on the passenger side door. Chainsaw replied with a raspy caw and hopped up to balance on the open window a second later.

Adam reached out a hand to pet her. “She stayed in here the whole time?” he asked Ronan. “She could have flown out the window while we were inside.”

There was something fierce in Ronan’s eyes as he considered the raven. He dug a pizza crust out of his pocket and held it up to her. “She never goes far,” he said.

Adam ran the back of his finger along the soft feathers on Chainsaw’s beak. He wanted to look at Ronan, but he thought that maybe Ronan was already watching him. And he wasn't sure what he might do if he caught him at it.

They were both silent for a while as Chainsaw demolished her pizza crust. Then Ronan said, “You should take it.”

Adam glanced at him. “Take what?”

“The internship.”

“It's not as simple as just taking it,” Adam said, “I don't want you guys giving things to me.”

“That's just Gansey,” Ronan said. “It's just what he does. He likes helping people.”

“Like a project pet,” Adam said. A little heat had crept into his voice. Chainsaw shook out her feathers.

Ronan was petulant. “You know he doesn't mean it that way.”

“Even if he doesn't realize,” Adam said evenly, “I think he does.”

“He's excited about being your friend. Let him.”

“Ronan,” Adam said, starting to actually get angry now. “It's not-”

“Just fucking think about it,” Ronan said, so calm and collected Adam felt ridiculous in comparison. “Knowing Gansey, it's a good internship and it probably pays. It could give you a better way to make money.”

Suddenly, horribly, Adam thought back to yesterday, when Ronan had seen him coming in from the back. Anxiety overtook him as he remembered Ronan’s raised eyebrow, his own flinch. He’d brushed off Ronan’s questions, his gaze, but had it not been enough? Had his hair been disheveled? No, he'd checked it. Had something given him away? No, he was always careful. Had Ronan seen through him so easily?

“What do you mean, ‘better’?” he asked.

“I mean steady pay,” Ronan said, his tone even, gaze unflinching. “In an air-conditioned office, with frail businessmen and complimentary bagels.”

“I like my job fine,” Adam said. Jobs, he thought.

Ronan didn't say anything. He merely looked at Adam, eyes bored, mouth pulled down in dissent. Adam gazed back, refusing to flinch, refusing to back away. He knew Ronan used silence like a weapon, but he was good at being quiet, too.

Ronan kept staring, and Adam endured it. Then something like a smile tugged at the corner of Ronan’s mouth. His eyes flickered to the door. “The posse’s here.” he said.

Adam looked over his shoulder to see Gansey and Noah stepping outside, Gansey in front and bathed in streetlight, Noah half a step behind him, all shadow. He could see Blue, too, through the window, bent over a table with a rag in her hands, a small smile on her face.

Gansey stopped in front of Adam and Ronan, grinning from ear to ear. “You guys good?” he asked.

Adam looked at Ronan. Ronan turned away from them both and got into the Camaro. “Yeah,” Adam said, after a moment. “We’re fine.”

[swipestream]

4 Funky Fungi to Liven Up Your Game (And A Few Ways To Use Them)—Part 1 of 2

This is as pretty as mushrooms get. Fair warning: it’s all a horror show from here on out. Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com

Beneath the soil they wait, oozing digestive juices to liquefy and absorb any edible material hapless enough to fall in their path. Silently, patiently, they spread hidden tendrils thinner than a hair under the ground, linking threads to form an invisible net below the feet of the hapless humanoids lumbering above them. Relentlessly, they burrow through the ground. Growing, consuming, they bide their time over months, years, centuries, even millennia until the time arrives that they burst through the ground, hurling copies of themselves into the air and preparing to begin the cycle once more.

Sure, this is a workable description of any number of ancient evils in fantasy gaming, but it’s also a pretty solid way of talking about the fungi you probably have in the patch of ground nearest to you right now. What we think of as “mushrooms” are really only formed by a small fraction of fungal species;

…in fact, the “mushrooms” that we see are just the mechanism by which fungi spread. This means that Toad from Super Mario Brothers, myconids from D&D, and any other mushroom creatures you can think of are just ambulatory reproductive organs, and the Smurfs village is basically a scene from a Saw movie.

Share1

Tweet1

Reddit1

Email

in fact, the “mushrooms” that we see are just the mechanism by which fungi spread. This means that Toad from Super Mario Brothers, myconids from D&D, and any other mushroom creatures you can think of are just ambulatory reproductive organs, and the Smurfs village is basically a scene from a Saw movie.

The majority of the “body” of a fungus is its mycelium (yes, like the network in Star Trek), which grows out in all directions, seeking food and forming a network within the soil. This underground network exists in nearly all areas with vegetative life, and in addition to decomposing materials that would otherwise pile up, it is used by plants as a kind of external digestive system, forming a symbiotic relationship whereby plants can gather food and nutrients that they can’t reach with their own root systems. There is even evidence that this network of fungi is also used in a form analogous to communication between plants, forming what is sometimes called (and I could not possibly be more delighted to tell you this) a “wood-wide web”.

Until around 1960, fungi were considered to be plants — which makes sense; they grow from something that looks like seeds, and they don’t move on their own. However, later science determined that they were much more closely related to animals, just completely immobile and without any sort of muscle tissue — which really makes me wonder whether I might technically be a fungus. They store energy as glycogen (like animals) rather than starch (like plants), and their cells are given rigidity not by plant-based materials like cellulose but instead by chitin, the same material that makes up the exoskeletons of insects like cockroaches. Yum!

Fungi can be medicinal or poisonous or delicious (or sometimes a combination of any two of those things), and the difference between a good dinner and an early grave is sometimes a matter of how they’re prepared. Indigestible or poisonous mushrooms can be rendered edible (or at least less harmful) by any number of techniques. I’m not going to go into more detail than that because a) this is the Internet, and no one should try to do this kind of thing based on the advice of an RPG blog, and b) even if that were a good idea, I’m the absolute last person who should be giving that kind of instruction. With that in mind…

Warning: mushrooms can kill you.

Share1

Tweet1

Reddit1

Email

Warning: mushrooms can kill you, just like they were rumored to have killed the Roman emperor Claudius, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles VI, Pope Clement VII, and the composer Johann Schobert. And that’s just some of the famous people. About seven people per year die of mushroom poisoning in the U.S, and hundreds more are made seriously ill. Even though there are pictures in this article, and for the most part I tried to find reasonable approximations of what the fungi in question looked like, this is not an identification guide. I can’t even match my socks in the morning, and I can barely avoid killing my family when I cook for them even when I don’t use potentially poisonous ingredients — do not take anything I say as adequate reason to put these things in your mouth.

However, describing such things is not only safe, but extremely cool. And with that in mind, I present to you 8 Funky Fungi To Liven Up Your Game (And A Few Ways To Use Them).

Mind-Controlling Ant Fungus (ophiocordyceps unilateralis)

Strangely, the animated “Antz” movie left this scene on the cutting room floor. Is that reference dated? I feel like that reference is dated now. Oh, well. Look it up.

By itself, there’s nothing especially new or interesting about a fungal infection. If you’re alive, which I assume most of you reading this are, you are already host to a dizzying array of fungi, yeasts, and other creatures that call you home. They’re like roommates (good or bad). They do their thing to varying degrees of intrusiveness and stink. You also do your thing, and if you’re too incompatible, one or the other of you gets evicted. Cordyceps is more like that friend who visits from out of town and suddenly surprise! They’re moving to your city and need a place to stay. First they start eating all the food out of your fridge, then they start making demands, and before you know it, they’re trying to hollow you out and turn your body into a nutrient paste they can use for reproduction. Which is not, in fact, something that everyone does, Harold.

This particular species of Cordyceps infects carpenter ants, and then even while eating them alive, hijacks the nervous and muscular system of the ant, forcing it to travel to an appropriate piece of plant cover, climb to the ideal elevation for reproduction, clamp on to the grass with their mandibles, and then die. The fungus continues to spread within the ant, before eventually sprouting out of the long-dead husk and throwing its spores to the wind, beginning the cycle all over again. Some scientists think that the ants may be cognitively unaffected during all of this, and that the mechanism is actually a little less like mind control, and a little more like being controlled like an agonized marionette from within. Nature is amazing.

Potential Game Use:

A prodigal son from a local farming community finally returned, but the day after his tearful homecoming, he wandered into the woods and disappeared, only to be found again a week later dead, hollowed out, and filled with a mysterious powdery substance that creates a powerful feeling of well-being when inhaled, even accidentally. The heroes have been called in to investigate the case, as local law enforcement has no idea what is going on.

At first, all signs point to a horrible drug deal gone bad, until the characters find several locals attempting (and maybe succeeding) in stealing the mysterious powder, claiming that they feel compelled to share with their friends and family. “Addicts” at first violently resist any attempts to prevent them from taking or spreading this powder, eventually becoming a kind of hive mind that exhales spores onto the PCs. If not helped, the entire village will die in agony, possibly spreading the infection to other nearby areas.

In such a story, there are plenty of opportunities for medical or nature rolls (to determine the nature of the illness or the drug), social rolls (to determine that individuals are being non-magically mind-controlled) and constitution-type rolls to avoid infection. Potential solutions include spells curing disease, exotic alchemical reagents, introducing another fungal or bacterial species to counteract the infection, and good old-fashioned fire (for games that tend to be a little darker in tone).

Candy Cap Mushrooms (lactarius rubidus)

Sure; when a mushroom hunter finds something on the ground that tastes like maple syrup, they’re “nature-loving” and “exploratory,” but when I do it I’m “too old to still be doing this kind of thing” and “need to put on pants.”

Edible mushrooms, by themselves, aren’t all that much to write home about (unless “home” has a mycologist, in which case you should definitely write home to make sure you’re eating the right ones). Edible mushrooms that make for a workable ice cream flavor start to get a little more interesting. Where lactarius rubidus gets really fun though, is after the initial consumption. When dried and then reconstituted, this mushroom tastes like maple syrup (because, it turns out, it produces the same chemical that is used to make maple syrup flavoring—now who’s being unnatural, Canada?). The real magic happens later, when the sweat and tears of people who eat the mushroom start to smell like maple syrup as well. It’s like someone with more imagination than impulse control stumbled across a wish-granting leprechaun and demanded a combination of dessert and cologne, and I’ll be darned if the little guy didn’t make it work.

Potential Game Use:

The characters are invited to a feast by a local fae noble. Because interactions with faeries in folklore and fiction are one part entertainment to three parts weaponized manners, eventually, a character is going to insult someone. To keep this adventure from feeling too “on the rails,” feel free to use a character loosely associated with the fae whom the PCs have insulted or irritated previously. For a little foreshadowing fun, include some sort of massively dangerous but largely mindless beast in a cage, leashed or otherwise bound near the tables as the characters eat. After the feast, the heroes are offered an especially delicate and exotic dessert mushroom, which is also given to the dangerous creature. The creature immediately tears into the dessert mushrooms with terrifying abandon: think “Cookie Monster” meets “Sharknado.” Because players aren’t dumb, they will almost certainly check the dessert to make sure it’s not poisonous, magically or otherwise trapped (which of course, it’s not), and/or wait to see what happens with the Hungry Hungry Horror. Offer the character some sort of minor benefit for eating the mushrooms — healing, one additional use of a power, or whatever form of play currency is used in your game (e.g. inspiration, conviction, XP). Keep track of what characters eat the mushroom and how many they eat.

Following the meal, the characters discover the delightful side effect of the mushroom — they smell exactly like the delicious dessert they just consumed thanks to their unrefined humanoid biology. Their fae hosts, of course, have more refined digestion. As the characters look on in horror, the fae lord at the head of the table lets the leash slip on their pet monster, who lunges at the nearest character while the nearby court of fae watches and applauds. This is a fairly straightforward mostly-combat encounter, but with a lot of potential fun in the form of set pieces for combat. Think flipped tables, improvised weapons, flying crockery, and lithe, mocking figures darting in and out to make things more “interesting.” This may also be an opportunity for more socially-oriented characters to use their charm to request assistance from particularly engaged onlookers.

Octopus Stinkhorn (clathrus archeri)

Apparently, they smell as good as they look.

To the right, you will see a picture of what I absolutely swear is not only a fungus, but the single grossest fungus I have ever read about (and that’s including a species coming up in the next article that grows exclusively on herbivore dung). The Octopus Stinkhorn begins its visible life as a slime-covered bolus of egg-like material with its forming tentacles barely visible. Eventually, the tentacles strain against their “egg” and burst outward, covered in a thick, black-brown goo that smells like rotting meat. The stench attracts nearby flies and other decomposers, which wander around on the surface of the tentacles, picking up spores that they drop elsewhere (basically pollination, as imagined by Clive Barker).

Potential Game Use:

Look. If you’re going to have something sprout up unexpectedly from the ground that looks like Cthulhu’s dust bunnies, you might as well lean all the way in. Something unclean has been here before. “Here” can be the site of some sort of horrible sacrifice, sacrilege, or slaughter, or it can just be a case of “wrong place at the wrong time.” As another straightforward combat encounter, it’s hard to beat a tentacled creature that can unpredictably reproduce from any spot on the ground, but the real challenge will come in the form of the creatures that are attracted to and defend the Supernatural Stinkhorn. Take this as an opportunity to drag out every gross monster you’ve ever wanted to use. Giant cockroaches? Go for it! Slime molds, gelatinous cubes, worms that walk? They’re all fair game, and they’re all making heart eyes at this festering mound of thrashing goop. Every successful strike results in everyone within 10 feet getting splashed with putrescence, triggering some sort of constitution-type roll to avoid either taking damage or losing the next round heaving breakfast onto the ground.

What’s more, who’s to say what characters who take damage from such an attack might not themselves be the source of the next infection?

Bioluminescent Fungi (~80 species)

Preeeeeeeety sure this is a Photoshop job, but you get the idea. Glowing mushrooms: They’re A Thing (TM).

I almost didn’t include bioluminescent fungi in this list. They’re such a cliche that it’s almost not worth it. But there are about 80 species of bioluminescent mushrooms, and that’s a pretty big chunk of the fungal kingdom to just leave out because everyone already knows about them. So, with that in mind, yes. Glowing mushrooms are real, and there are a bunch of them, and yes, they all look very, very cool. Do yourself a favor and do an image search of them sometime.

Potential Game Use:

Lighting is a sometimes-underutilized part of adventure and encounter design. I can’t count the number of modules and supplements I’ve read that treat lighting as sort of a throwaway — there’s almost always magical ambient lighting, or unexplained torches (which are, if you’re a sucker for verisimilitude, extremely unlikely), or sometimes no lighting  at all. Which makes sense on a certain level — much like encumbrance or precise weapon details, not everyone likes thinking about and tracking questions of visibility in exploration or combat. However, I propose that if you’re looking for a quick and easy way of making things interesting in an otherwise bog-standard dungeon or cave, start caring about lighting. Have unseen things chittering in dark corners, or drips just out of eyesight, or things darting out of view as soon as the characters get too near.

Another consideration: do your players have darkvision? Of course they do. If it’s a fantasy game, pretty much everyone has darkvision. Things without eyes have darkvision. A soup tureen has darkvision in some rulesets. You know who doesn’t have darkvision though? The large group of frightened prisoners the characters may have just freed. Alternately, some puzzles or clues may only become visible when viewed under the light of a specific species of mushroom, the identification and gathering of which can be an encounter all by itself. For an extra “wow” factor, consider making a homemade blacklight to represent the mushroom’s glow, and using lemon juice to write a hidden clue, message, or even whole puzzle.

In Conclusion:

Fungi are really, really neat and can add to just about any fantasy game, above or below-ground. They’re terrifying, dangerous, delicious, poisonous, useful and frustrating in equal measure, and if you let them, they can give your game a touch of alien whimsy that few other things in the real world can. If you’ve enjoyed this article, come back in a couple of weeks for Part 2, where I give four more kinds of fungi you might want to use in your game.

In the meantime, do you think you’ll be using more mushrooms in your games? Do you have a favorite fungus (or a suggestion for me to cover in the next piece)? Let me know in the comments!

Further Reading:

Six Bizarre Things about Fungi : A cool, quick little article about the weirdness of fungi, prominently featuring three of the species that made this list (h/t Luke: thanks for the heads up!).

Mycophilia: Revelations from the Weird World of Mushrooms by Eugenia Bone. There aren’t a lot of books on mycology out there that aren’t aimed at mushroom hunters, farmers, or people looking for psychedelics. While this is an engaging and entertaining overview in a field that isn’t exactly crowded, I can’t entirely recommend this book, as it contains some flip statements about several vulnerable populations that have little if anything to do with fungi, and that kind of soured the read a bit for me. Your mileage may vary.

The Magic of Mushrooms. A documentary available in the US on Netflix (as of the time of this article), this fairly short but fun film walks you through the basics of fungal biology, as well as introducing some of the ways fungi may well shape our future. Fun, quick, and relentlessly British, I can’t recommend it highly enough for someone who likes documentaries.

4 Funky Fungi to Liven Up Your Game (And A Few Ways To Use Them)—Part 1 of 2 published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames