#there was an attempt made. it did not go well

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

"Don't forget how badly you said you wanted this when it gets to be too much, 'kay, mama?"

A warning that you paid no mind to and instead giggled at, because Toji kissed your knuckles and your forehead when he finished binding your wrists together. You thought he wouldn't be too hard on you, and even if he was, you have a trick up your sleeve. You know that if you beg hard enough with shimmering eyes, he becomes a little more lenient. He eases up on you and gentleness starts to seep into his actions.

Well, that didn't work. Not this time. This time, he wanted to give you everything you asked for and more.

"Fuck..." Toji groans. "Look at that, ma." He displays his cum soaked, glistening fingers and shows you an update on the juices that have made their way down his wrist. "Come on, open your eyes and look," he says, patting your thigh.

Your bottom lip quivers and your eyes flutter open, your dim, weary gaze darting to the face of the man inflicting all these varying sensations your body is feeling.

"Not at my mug. Look at my hand and my forearm," Toji instructs, trying hard not to smirk at how utterly debauched you look. You look like you're going to cry, again. "Messy girl, you did that."

You mumble something quiet and unintelligible, and like a shark, Toji devours your pathetic attempt to speak. "Louder. I know you can be louder, or do you need some encouragement?" He asks, ghosting the knuckle of his index finger along your slit, resulting in your body full on jolting.

"Sorry!" You cry out, loud enough to have Toji laughing at your frantic repetition. "I said-- said i'm sorry," you stutter out, your voice unsteady.

You're ruined, yet somehow, this is a sight that has Toji's heart racing, like he's falling in love with you for the millionth time. It puts him through a conflict. It makes him want to be nice to you, it also makes him want to add on to your ruin, but more than anything, it sadistically makes him want to see you cry, again.

"Don't be sorry. This is what you wanted, right?" Toji groans, quietly, as he lies back down on his stomach, eyes focusing on your glistening cunt, again. "Wanted me to make you cry from the intensity of it all? Said you could handle being overstimulated, didn't you, ma?" His thumb drags up your slit, slow enough to have your inner thighs trembling as he makes his way up towards your overly sensitive clit. "Stay there," he commands, when you squirm the slightest bit away from him. He goes again, this time, dragging the pads of his index and middle fingers through your slicked folds.

"T-Toji," you whimper, your abdomen clenching and quivering with every one of his touches. "Toji, I--" you gasp, feeling the warmth of his tongue dragging through your folds and when you feel his fingers grazing your entrance, you can't help but whimper in anticipation for what's to come.

"Why are you shaking?" Toji asks, looking up at you, condescendingly. You can't scramble quickly enough to respond, before he's feeding his fingers into your drooling cunt. "Wanna cum?" He asks, taking in the sight of your returning tears with a menacing smirk. You don't know what to say, because on one hand, you get another orgasm, but on the other hand, you know you are going to be pushed past pleasure. "Yeahhh, you do. Look at that pretty face. Gonna make you cum so hard," he purrs, curling his fingers inside of you.

You don't know if you'll make it out of this one. You feel like you're being launched into heaven every time he makes you cum with his fingers and his mouth, but it's an immediate, full speed plummet to hell when he keeps going—keeps rubbing your clit while you spasm and practically choke on your breaths.

"Right there?" Toji asks, noticing a shift in the sounds of your moans. They're higher in pitch, quicker, and constantly interrupted by your sharp gasps. "Oh fuck," he growls. "That's it, huh?"

"I-I'm--" you whimper, "--fuck, fuck." Your chest heaves, your back slightly arching off the bed. "Toji," you call, frenzied by the overwhelming sensations. "I'm gonna die..." you blurt. "G-Gonna die," you cry out, tears spilling down the corners of your eyes and treading down your cheeks.

Toji watches, amusedly, as you struggle to figure out what to do while he keeps building you up. The mobility of your hands is limited due to your wrists being bound together, but your palms are dented by your nails to all hell. You barely have control of your legs, because even though they aren't restrained, Toji handles them however he needs to in order to give you what you asked for without you trying to stop him.

"You're fine. You can take it," he says, over the lewd, squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you. "Last one, and you're giving me ten seconds."

"N-No!"

"Yes," he insists. "It's the last one, gotta make it a-"

It's unexpected, the wet mess you make all over Toji's hand, your thighs, and the sheets. You feel like your whole body is buzzing and your toes are curled so tightly that your feet are starting to hurt from the strain.

The countdown starts the second you start squirming and pressing your hips into the mattress. Toji's arms are hooked around your thighs, holding them open and still so he can use his mouth on you for all ten of those seconds and make a mess out of your overstimulated cunt. His lips are latched around your clit, one of his fingers pumping in and out of you, while you shake and pathetically sob from the borderline painful amount of stimulation. The skin of your palms must be broken by now from how hard you've been digging into them.

"Toj--" you barely manage, before your chest is heaving and racking out another sob.

The ten seconds are up, and Toji immediately eases off of you, releasing your visibly trembling legs so that you can move as you please. He crawls up the bed and sits beside you, quickly undoing the binding of your wrists and tossing the strip away.

"I know... I know, doll," Toji coos, wiping at your tear streaked cheeks. He doesn't instantly scoop you up into his arms, because you not wanting to be touched is definitely a possibility. He just sits there, by your side, and attempts to verbally soothe you while you work to compose yourself. "Just breathe, mama. It's all done. You're gonna be okay."

Once your breathing is more calm and you're not so rattled, he works his way up to touching you, starting with your shaky hands and the crescent shapes that litter your palms. He carefully runs his thumbs over the little marks, monitoring your reaction to make sure he isn't hurting you. He brings your hands up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, moving along each of your fingers and ending where his focus is needed most—your palms.

"You good, ma?" Toji asks, lying down on his side, facing you. He's still not pulling you into his arms, but one of his legs is pressed against yours, just to have some sort of physical contact with you.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you say, offering a soft smile. "It was just..." you hum, thinking.

"Intense?" Toji cuts in, to which you nod. "But I didn't hurt you too bad? You're alright?"

"Yes, baby," you assure. "I would've used my safe word if it was too much for me to handle. We touched on that before we started this, remember?" Your hand goes to cup his cheek, but he intercepts it by grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to his lips, again.

"Don't be scared to use that word, ma. Don't ever push your boundaries for me, alright? I don't give a fuck if i'm about to bust. If you're not feeling it, we're gonna stop, okay? The last thing I wanna do is to traumatize you."

"Jesus fuck, you're so sexy," you murmur, curling up into him. Your hand splays over his abdomen and rubs slowly, a simple gesture that makes his cock start throbbing and twitching in his sweats, the longer you do it. "Yes, Toji. I won't ever hesitate," you assure, your words promised, physically, through a kiss. The feeling of your lips against his, only further fuels his arousal. You can feel the way he impatiently kisses you back, like he's trying to inhale you. The way he grips your hip and pulls you so that your body is pressed against him, further communicates his need for more of you.

"I'll be so gentle with you, doll," he mumbles, into your neck, pressing kisses to it, afterwards. "Please? Let me treat you right, this time."

You giggle as he continues murmuring quiet little pleas into your neck, through kisses.

"I wanted you to do it, baby, but alright, treat me your way. The right way."

[jacks-the-flower]

tell me you know nothing about the culture you're capitalizing on without telling me. colonialism perpetuating piece of shit.

literally the whole point of a tomb in egyptian culture is that it is the deceased's resting place in the afterlife. it is meant to house their spirit. no one is meant to step foot in these sacred places and its actually avoided at all costs.

but go ahead, offer a people perpetually kept in unrest a huge sum of money- it's only at the cost of their very culture! literally no one is going to refuse the amount of money he probably offered up, certainly not those who are in power. say less of the actual people - who were honestly probably volun-told to agree to it or maybe just informed after the fact - who have been made to be so dependent upon the whims of western "philanthropy" that they would barely be able to refuse to begin with, volun-told or not.

and to tie it into orientalist stereotypes and "pharaoh's curses" let's talk about Tutankhamun - or King Tut - and HIS tomb which was one of many of its like that was broken into, "lawfully" looted by westerners, and then made into a display that was disrespectful to the idea of a tomb itself. its even funnier when you consider some of what we know of his tomb: how shortly after Tut was laid to rest, there were a few attempts to loot it of treasures. the looters did grab quite a few valuables, but were intercepted by guards. the valuables (notably a bunch of chariots) were then very quickly tossed back into Tut's tomb, almost haphazardly compared to the presentation of the rest.

why, you may ask? because the guards felt very uncomfortable being in Tut's - a pharaoh whom they greatly respected because, well, he was a pharaoh - tomb and put everything back as quick as possible so as to not disturb his spirit.

and now his burial mask is on display for the whole world to see. kind of a violation don't you agree?

now this fucker is going to put the forbidden aspects of a wonder of the ancient world on display for people around the globe to gawk at just to get some views on his video and money in his pocket.

kind of a violation don't you agree?

I hope this guy fucking dies because

A) he's Mr Beast

B) he has WAY too much money if he's renting out the PYRAMIDS OF GIZA????

C) renting out actual historical landmarks that have already been desecrated and destroyed over thousands of years for a goddamn youtube video is actually disgusting.

idk if you think that they're "just the pyramids", they're the ONLY remaining wonder of the ancient world!!! Not to mention!! they're TOMBS!! sure, the people who were inside are long gone, but like?? idk, maybe i'm oversely sensitive, but being a white dude and desecrating an ancient burial site (for profit) and thus disregarding thousands upon thousands of years of history and culture is probably Up There with the scummy stuff this jackass has done

[johnbrand]

A Legend

Tracy could feel himself getting jittery, his nerves building up while he waited for his first customer.  He had never worked for a rideshare company before, but he was desperate for money. A guy could only go off of plasma donations for so long after college graduation, and without job offers piling up, Tracy deemed a temporary solution necessary. But now Tracy felt like everything was constricting; the small space inside his Prius, the oversized sweater he was wearing, his favorite pop divas singing from the stereo. He prayed that he would not have to talk much, wishing to be silent like those taxi drivers in every other movie set in New York. 

Taking a deep breath, Tracy heard the back door swing open and shut. Questions immediately flooded his head. Did he miss any hairs when he shaved this morning? Did he remove that pesky pimple patch? Ignoring the battering thoughts and turning around, Tracy found a muscular jock spread across the entire back seating area. 

“Are you Tracy?” the attractive customer asked, a bit confused. Despite being a couple of years younger than Tracy, the jock held a certain level of arrogance. This display of superiority intimidated Tracy and embarrassingly, turned him on a bit.

“I’m going to assume yes.” The jock asserted after waiting a moment longer. He then stuck out his hand with a smile. “Michael, in case it wasn’t obvious.”

Tracy’s eyes dashed between his phone and the handsome young man before him. “Oh uh…yeah,” the words spilled out clumsily as he took his hand.

“You’re new to this, aren’t you?” Michael questioned.

Tracy took a moment to respond, “Sorry, um I kinda am.” 

“No worries, man,” Tracy caught Michael’s smirk in the rearview mirror. “But with a name like ‘Tracy,’ I was expecting a chick or something.” 

Tracy blushed. “It was my grandfather’s name…” Trying his best to recover, he opted for a joke. “At least I didn’t get stuck with something worse, right?” Although his voice had come out a little tight, the attempt made the cut, as confirmed by Michael’s light chuckle.

“I guess,” Michael agreed. “But that’s why you go by Trace, right? Funny how that simple letter change can make you a whole lot manlier.”

“Hmm?” Having turned on the ignition and left the parking lot, Tracy was now juggling both driving and providing conversation. It was not a difficult task, but he found himself adjusting the stereo to better concentrate on the two tasks at hand.

“I mean you’ve been going by Trace since what, middle school?” Michael attempted to confirm.

Trace found himself a bit lost. “Why…how did you know that?”

Michael’s face broke out into a charming grin. “Stop being so timid, man. You’re a legend at the university! Even if you graduated a few years ago, your fame is still alive and well.”

Trace found himself a bit stunned. “Thanks…?”

“Don’t be so humble, bro” Michael frowned. “Everyone knows you were the star of the football team back in the day. The boys won’t shut up about you.”

“‘The boys’?” Trace asked curiously. 

“Yeah! ‘Trace was always committed to the team.’ ‘Trace was the epitome of masculinity.’ ‘Trace was…’, well, you get the idea.” Michael scratched idly at his pec before continuing. Tracy absentmindedly did the same to his own bulky counterparts. “Those guys look up to you! And by the looks of it, you hold up to your own legend.”

“I try to,” Trace smiled back, confidence creeping into his voice. Taking a wide turn, Trace could feel his thick forearm flexing while rotating the wheel, his bicep testing the limits of the tight athletic shirt’s fabric. Trace took a moment to examine himself in the rearview mirror. His stubble was on point, accenting his lantern-like jaw appropriately. His whole face in fact was quite macho.

“Checking yourself out, big man?” Michael caught Trace red-handed. The remark made Trace’s legs bloat a bit larger, forcing them further apart. “I’m surprised a guy with your height can even fit in this rust-bucket.” 

“You could argue the Fusion was meant for a 6’3 man,” Trace chuckled, his vocal chords a bit deeper. “But yeah once I get enough money, I’m getting a real, All-American truck.”

“Ah, so that’s what this side gig is for,” Michael nodded. “I was guessing it was a side hustle for the ladies.”

“What do you mean?” Trace turned the volume up slightly, the country music twanging a smidge heavier throughout the car.

“Isn't this just a stint to pick women up, double entendre intended? It's the other thing the guys are always talking about,” Michael commented. “‘Trace was always a lady killer.’ ‘Trace never pulled out.’ ‘Trace’s hit list was longer than anyone else’s.’”

Trace sat silent, turning into the destination’s parking lot.  “Is that part of the legend no longer true?” Michael pushed.

Once Trace found an open spot to station his car, he responded. “Oh it’s true,” he confirmed proudly. “In fact, you can tell the boys the number has doubled since graduation.”

Michael’s face copied Trace’s own cocky smirk. “I'll be happy to report that back. I’ll see you around then, man!”

Trace watched through the rearview mirror as Michael hopped out of the car. He then scanned his phone to find his next customer. Trace’s thick fingers automatically drifted to the “Female, 18-25” range, searching for someone to give a ride too, double entendre intended.

[thessalian]

Since some Rooks are Dalish already, let's go one better:

Rook summons the entire group for what they think is a big important "I HAVE NEWS" meeting, and asks for the worst profanity options in every culture represented at the table. Not just linguistically, but idiomatically. Rook is just like, "I want to be able to cuss him out for twenty-four straight hours, minimum."

Bellara: Comes through with little snippets of profanity she's heard from Veil Jumpers from all over the place, messages Strife to ask for suggestions from the folks at their current camp, and tells the Nadas Dirthalen to give her a list of every horrible thing any of Anaris' enemies called Anaris back in the day.

Davrin: Not so great on ancient elvhen, but given that the Grey Wardens are a place you get conscripted by and/or exiled to when you have Done A Bad, as well as someplace you can go to become a hero, he has so much invective from all over Thedas that gets ... particularly colourful in its idiom. Suggestions that one perform various sex acts on darkspawn are particularly apt in this situation.

Emmrich: Turns up with a pile of parchment two inches thick of particularly filthy swearing in ancient Nevarran. Apparently Nevarran is a very good language to swear in. Emmrich did attempt a pronunciation guide but recognises that he has to go through the entire list at least once to get the full nuance. He manages to get Manfred to go play with the wisps while the tutelage in ancient Nevarran profanity happens.

Taash: The Qun doesn't have a lot of swear words (or so Shathann has told Taash over the years, and they don't know enough to argue), but Rivaini has some really juicy idioms and sounds really lovely.

Harding: She spent too much time playing "I am nice and likeable so please don't be a dick" in Ferelden to really get much of Fereldan profanity, but years in the Inquisition made up for it. She does tap her few contacts in Orzamarr, but apparently no one really knows how to pronounce the ancient dwarven runes anymore.

Lucanis: Coffee with Teia and Viago. Teia has great idioms. They mostly invited Viago to see him pop a blood vessel, but his idioms are better than Teia's. Spite, surprisingly, joins in subtly with languages no one's heard of and may not exist outside the Fade.

Neve: Sits Rook down with Elek, Tarquin, Rana Savas, Maevaris, and Dorian with several bottles of good wine, then sets them to talking about the Venatori and lets the profanity flow while the Tevinter Brigade are too drunk and raging to notice Rook taking notes.

The next group meeting gets ... colourful.

Rook sitting Bellara and Davrin down all somber and they're expecting some sort of serious conversation only for Rook to go "I need you to teach me how to curse in elven. The common tongue isn't enough. I need to cuss Solas' ass out in his native language."

[nativegirltapes]

. . . drew’s new found fame was something you knew would come, he was too good of an actor to not get his big break. you just didn’t realize how much you and your relationship would suffer from it ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

warnings / angel being an insecure bihhh (kind of), drew comforting her, happy ending bc life is sad enough to make a sad ending <3

you stood in the kitchen, stirring the homemade pasta you'd been working on for the past few hours mindlessly staring at the pot, but that's the last place your mind was.

you heard the door open and close, meaning drew was finally home. you fixed your posture and mentally prepped yourself. you felt so guilty, making drew's publicity basically all about you, but you literally couldn't help it.

"hey," drew came up behind you, embracing you in his bigs arms, leaving kisses on your ear. "how's my baby?"

"hi." you continued to stir the pasta, making every attempt to distract yourself from the tears that were threatening to spill. “how was your day?”

"it was fine," drew rubbed your back, he wanted to be close to you, to feel your touch. he hated being away from you, even if it were for just a few hours. "boring day. what did you do?" drew asked, desperate to hear more from you. usually the minute he walked through the door you were talking his ear off.

"not much." you replied.

"can you look at me?" drew's tone was firm, maybe even a hint of hurt. why weren't you talking to him? “what’s wrong?” drew asked the minute he seen that glossy layer in your eyes.

“it’s nothing,” you lied. “really.” you wiped your eyes, embarrassed that you were crying over something that was supposed to be a good thing.

if you didn’t want to talk about it, drew wasn’t going to force you, he wasn’t like that, but boy did he hate seeing you sad. “are you sure?” he hugged you, you buried your face in his chest, which for some reason made you want to cry even more.

“i just love you,” you mumbled in his shirt, you weren’t sure if he could ever hear you. “and i don’t want to lose you.” drew pulled away, looking down at you with furrowed brows and a confused look. “lose me? i’m right here.”

your sad doe eyes looking up at him all puffy and red did something to him; seeing you sad made him sad. “well i don’t know,” you looked down, but drew quickly grabbed you by your chin and made you look up at him again. “what if you find better than me?”

“better than you?” drew chuckled. “i don’t think that’s possible.” he wrapped his arms around you again, giving you a peck on the head. although you knew drew didn’t lie to you, you still couldn’t help but feel like he was just saying that. “i’m serious.” he assured you, like he could see right through you and everything you were thinking. “i only want you.”

unable to form a coherent response; you embraced him in a hug. he never made you feel like you were too much, in fact he loved you because you were ‘too much.’

“how bout this pasta?”

[brittle-doughie]

This Year and You! (Various Fics)

Just a look back at certain stories throughout the months! Can you imagine it’s been another with you and Cookies!

———————————————————————

January - Final Days

“What are you looking at, Y/N Cookie?”

“Hm, oh hey, Pure Vanilla. It’s just..a photo. I took….of me and my friends…”

“Oh? Can I perhaps take a look?”

“N-No, I’m..not ready to share this with others yet. It’s..a sensitive story for me…”

“O-oh, it’s okay! Please, take all the time you need. I’ll be there whenever you’re ready…”

“Yeah…”

You looked at the photo. You and your…former close friends. Smiling, enjoying yourselves.

“Thank you…”

You missed those times together. You had missed your friends. Them. Not what they had become…

———————————————————————

February - Storm Warning

“Where’s Y/N Cookie? Did they skip out on fishing with us today?”

“Yeah, I’d reckon they won’t be fishin’ with us for a while! Something about the ocean havin’ scaring them.”

“They’re afraid of the ocean? I’ve seen them fish in dangerous waters before. You telling me a little storm is scaring them?”

“I tried telling ‘em that. It felt..off when they looked at me in the eyes and whispered somethin’ to me.”

“What was it?”

“That this was no ordinary storm…”

Lightning crashes and thunder booms as the two fishermen cookies jump. They’d normally tried to sweep it under the rug as the storm just picking up.

If not for the sound of crying far off in the distant sea…

———————————————————————

March - Ingrained

You couldn’t move…

Seeing through the vines that shielded you from the outside world, not sure if passing by cookies observing and marveling at you…or the plant that Herb Cookie had become feeding off your life powder…

Vines were pierced into your dough, so you couldn’t even pull them off if you wanted to. You barely had the strength….

Herb Cookie…he said…you wouldn’t die. A part of you actually wished you could…

Or at least wish he was here right now, anything to break the monotony of vines settling and moving around you…

His empty, smiling husk right next to you didn’t exactly look like the type to have conversation with…

———————————————————————

April - The Dessert Report

You had carefully placed the ancient desserts into your office fridge before closing it, locking it by typing in a numbered keypad that was hooked to the fridge on the wall.

“The shift is over, manager. Where is our just dues..?”

You quickly turned around to see Redcap Mushroom and Demoncake Kitsune Cookie hidden in the shadows of your moonlit office.

“Right, right. I know, just let me head to the break room and get them-“

“We saw you place desserts in that fridge just now. We’ll take that…”

“What? I’m sorry, you two. These particular desserts aren’t for anyone to consume.”

Demoncake Kitsune floated fast towards you, leaning down her tall figure to stare directly at you with her glowing red eyes and black slit pupils.

“….”

“Come on, Demoncake. You’re well aware of what I told you both about desserts made from the Ancient Heroes.”

“Then we’ll need double of today’s worth in…pay. We don’t like being held out on, manager~”

“Plenty of Cookies came in today with gifts, that works for me.”

You escorted the two out of your office towards the front of the store.

You take a second to glance back at the locked fridge…

Once you’ve tasted something so s..w..e..e..t, nothing else would ever satisfy…

———————————————————————

May - The Lone Giant

Earthbread officials have declared the Lone Giant a passive hazard that’s meant to stay out of the way of. Attempts to approach the Giant has been met with hostile resistance from a group wearing white masks.

Towns in the path of the Giant are strongly advised to remain indoors until it has passed. Do not attempt to provide aid to Cookies that are outside during these curfews, they are beyond saving.

Do not try to apprehend or go to the Giant as it is considered extremely dangerous, whether the Giant itself or by the hostile group of Cookies spotted close by it.

Many Cookies continue to go missing in the Giant’s path to this day.

———————————————————————

June - Yin and Yang

“I’m sorry, but Y/N Cookie is not in at the moment. Please feel free to leave any message or gift with me.”

“…I see. But do please tell them that I wish to..spend the afternoon with them? Is that right?”

“Right, I’ll go ahead and pencil that in for you, your Majesty-“

“KEEP THE DOOR OPEN! KEEP THE DOOR OPEN!”

Dumpling Cookie and Dark Cacao Cookie turned to see you frantically running towards the castle door, your face completely covered in pink and purple kiss marks! Your culprits in high pursuit behind you, Affogato and Peach Blossom Cookie.

“Oh, why did you have to pull away so soon~ I wasn’t done with our little get-together~”

“Is everything alright, Y/N Cookie~? I had just prepare a special peach bao I prepared just for you.”

“I needed room to breathe!”

You dart in through the gap in the castle door and Dumpling Cookie quickly closes it, turning back to Dark Cacao Cookie.

“Should I tell them of your message?”

———————————————————————

July - Volition’s End

Dark Cacao Cookie climbed up the steps, having to stop to catch his breath when he noticed the statue of Mystic Flour Cookie…along with another Cookie beside her, one he didn’t recognize.

“That Cookie…who..?”

“That would be Captain Y/N Cookie, a guard of Mystic Flour Cookie, my Lord.”

Cloud Haetae was oddly more..quiet when bringing up this Cookie, something Dark Cacao Cookie noticed.

“Their sole duty was to protect Mystic Flour Cookie at any cost, even the cost of their own live itself. And that’s exactly what they did, defending her from Cookies that burned with hatred.”

“I..had never seen Mystic Flour Cookie act the way she did ever since that day. Kind of like you, my Lord. She cherished Y/N Cookie more than anything, holding onto their crumbled body as she returned to her cocoon. Because all she needed was them..”

“Have you ever experienced the feeling of emptiness for so long, my Lord?”

———————————————————————

August - Feathered Envy

“Tell me, truly! Who’s the most beautiful of us two? It’s very clear that it’s me, right?”

“Well…”

“Please, allow my precious to answer for themselves. Their answer must come from the bottom of their heart..”

“What? Are you afraid that my darling little Cookie may prefer the more beautiful one between us, Sugar Swan Cookie?”

“Let them answer for themself.”

“It’s clear who they’ll pick anyway. You might as well fly off already. The season is waiting for you-“

“The season can wait. Let them answer truthfully.”

———————————————————————

September - Tale of the Forced Hand

“Will you be alright, Y/N Cookie?”

You gave Pure Vanilla Cookie a reassuring nod, but you kept clutching your head.

“Yeah…yeah, I’ll be okay. I-I don’t know what happened back there. I just saw you all in danger and something in me just..wanted to do something to help.”

“That power you displayed, it was something Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t expect, yet relished in.”

“That smile of his, he knew something..but what was it…”

“Regardless, it’s possible he’s alerted the other Beasts about you. If what he had done was anything, he may not be willing to let you go a second time.”

“Something’s going on here, Pure Vanilla Cookie. It’s like I…remembered Shadow Milk Cookie, but..I didn’t know him at the same time either…”

“Y/N Cookie, could it be that..”

“No. There’s no way. I’ve lived an ordinary life since the beginning! I remember traveling and staying at the Cookie Kingdom when it used to be rubble.”

“Shadow Milk Cookie’s word cannot help trusted…”

“..yet his words always carry a speck of truth. No, I..couldn’t be this Compassion, right?”

———————————————————————

October - Five Nights with Dragons

“Is everything alright with the Great Dragon recently?

“I don’t know, they’ve been acting different since the sacrifice a while ago…”

“Did they..actually get the sacrifice..?”

“They did, I was there to check out the aftermath, the whole place was a mess. Yet, not a crumb was in sight on the floor.”

“Then what happened to the sacrifice?”

“No one knows. The cameras only caught the Great Dragons dragging them out of the home.”

“Then why…why is the Great Dragon angrier then they’ve ever been before?”

———————————————————————

November - Cookie to the Rescue

“So, you really endangered yourself to rescue Golden Osmanthus Cookie is what I’m hearing.”

“Pretty much. I wasn’t going to just leave her, Dumpling Cookie. I didn’t care if I crumbled off an arm to do so!”

“That’s quite the strong feeling towards a Cookie you’ve only met for a little while..”

“So what? Are you going to be like Crowned about this?”

“I was only asking, ‘kay? Remember that this kingdom needs you, Y/N Cookie. You can’t always throw yourself into danger and come out of it all right.”

“I know…”

“But seeing you go out of your way to help others, it’s one of the many things I like you about, Y/N.”

“O-Oh! Thank you, Dumpling Cookie.”

“So..what’s your relationship with Golden Osmanthus?”

“So nosy!”

———————————————————————

December - Destructive Influence

You hurried into a quiet part of the arena locker rooms, quickly pulling the small bit of incense you had stashed away. Taking a deep breath of its fragrance, you felt his influence slip away bit by bit as your mind calms down.

“And just what are you doing?”

“Keeping you from going out of control. What was that back there?! I-I thought you were just going to rough them up a little, not completely tear those three apart!”

“Hahaha! Why would I hold back against pathetic worms who crumble at the first sign of strength such as mine! I helped you and your bunch of friends, you OWE me.”

“I owe you nothing. You could’ve crumbled them! They may be..not the best sort of Cookies, but-“

“But WHAT?! Will you allow these weak, so weak Cookies to push you around?! Or will you allow me to show you the type of power you can have? Where no Cookie in your way will be able to stop you!”

“I…”

“Or will you end up as dust on like any other Cookie before you…?”

You looked at your right hand, it was trembling as it clenched into a fist. You felt a burning sensation coursing through your very dough, as if he was manifesting his power through it.

“Your enemy will not show mercy. Are you not going to give them the same or are you going to them every ounce of power that COURSES THROUGH YOUR DOUGH?!”

“ENOUGH!”’

You punched the wall in front of you, making the room tremble as you make a large dent in the wall. The burning faded as did Burning Spice’s influence..

Thank Swan for Golden Osmanthus Cookie’s incense. You only hope it can remain effective for as long as you needed it…

———————————————————————

It’s been a great year with you all! Here’s to another!

[kumkaniudaku]

Caught

Summary: When their guest is away, Terry and Patrice will play.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,067

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Recommended Reading: Spoiled

Author's Note: Spoiled, Back Up, and Caught all happen on the same linear timeline. Consider them present day events. Hopefully that helps pull things together because you'll need the context later. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

"Mommy, the recipe for the hand pies is so good. Thank you for finding it for me." 

"Oh, of course, baby. One day, I gotta get you to help me put all your Nana's recipes in a book or something. I'm tired of digging through all these scraps of paper." 

"I didn't wanna say anything, but that's insane. I can barely read her handwriting." 

Rosalyn scoffed on the other end of the phone line. "You and me both. I have to call Sybil every time or end up making up what I think goes there. I cook. I don't decipher chicken scratch."

Patrice laughed along with her mother as she passed a piping hot meatball over her shoulder to satisfy her taste tester for the night. He hummed his approval of her gift, providing a thumbs up as his rating before returning his hand to her waist and swaying them in time with the slow rhythm of Christmas music playing in the background. 

Christmas Eve brought preparation for the big day on the other side of a wake-up and a smaller get-together to celebrate Imani's and Jesus's birthdays in one evening. Patrice had offered to continue the tradition at her house to accommodate her cousin's request for loud music, liquor, and good, grown folks' fun. In a few short minutes, she and Terry would have a house full of adults gorging themselves on party food and fighting fits of giggles during a drunk game of Taboo. For now, she'd enjoy the calm before the storm with her shadow attached at the hip.

"The cinnamon smell for the apple version was way too strong, though. I almost skipped those altogether." 

Rosalyn responded with a sound of cautious curiosity. "Really? You usually love the smell of cinnamon." 

"Right," Patrice exclaimed. "Maybe I had a bad batch or something. It doesn't taste bad, but it smelled awful."

"Hm." Rosalyn filed the information in her head for a later moment of privacy, preferring not to stress her daughter with the questions buzzing around in the mind of a mother who knew her child better than anyone in the world. Instead, she continued. "Terry, did you like the hand pies?"

"You don't know if Terry is even in here, mama. He could be anywhere in the house," Patrice answered, her face screwed in confusion.

"Child, don't insult me. If you're in the kitchen, Terry is in the kitchen."

She wasn't wrong. A few too many glasses of Patrice's special holiday cocktail mixed with his ever-present desire to feel his wife at all times had Terry sticking to her like glue. Even after she'd given in to each of his kisses and allowed him to taste her the moment Imani stepped out to run a few errands, she still couldn't shake him. Whiskey was in control. Terry was only along for the ride.

He chuckled into the crook of Patrice's neck before confirming his presence. "Yes, ma'am, I loved the pies. Treece made a few on the side for me so I wouldn't have to share." 

"She still got you spoiled, I see."

"Nah, not too bad. You know she gets sweet once a week. I caught her on a good day." 

"Oh, hush."

Patrice's attempt to get out of Terry's grasp came up empty, prompting him to hold her tighter and press wet kisses onto the back of her neck. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could get away from him that easy while Uncle Nearest was pumping through his veins. 

"Well, let me let you two go," Rosalyn started with a small laugh. "Tell me how the chicken salad turns out. I might throw some together as a little snack for your daddy tomorrow. You know how he gets when he's ready to eat." 

"Mhmm. Just like somebody else I know."

Terry patiently waited for Patrice to wrap up her conversation and safely end the call before resuming his handsy approach to PDA. His hands slid up and down the fabric of her cotton pajama pants, the pair matching his at her request. Full lips attached to her neck, creating a light suction with every open-mouthed kiss. 

His wife rolled her eyes as she loaded a pita chip with dip for his culinary opinion. "You are insatiable, TJ. Taste this." 

He obliged, opening wide as she slid food into his mouth and waited for a response. Instead of a verbal assessment of her work, he kissed her cheek twice to signal his approval, then returned to his shameless groping.

"How long before Imani gets back?" 

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so. She only went to grab some more cups and water." 

Terry's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the stove before sliding his hands up Patrice's torso and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. "Think you got a few minutes to get back to what we started?" 

"Haven't you had enough of me yet? We've been going at it every day since New Orleans."

"What you think?"

Having enough of her touch, the feeling of her body against his, or her attention was a foreign concept for Terry. If he could quit his job and be totally devoted to her pleasure, he would do so without a second thought. Fortunately for him, though, extended absences from the slough of office life due to the holidays provided the closest opportunity to spend the whole day in it. 

Patrice smiled to herself as Terry slowly removed the serving spoon from her hand, bringing her delicate palm up to the back of his head. Coarse hair grown into a short tuft of curls and shaped by his barber tickled her fingertips as she closed her eyes, officially caught up in how Terry caressed her with the care afforded to precious works of art. 

A low purr slipped past his lips as his hands slid beneath the hem of her camisole to rub her stomach, filling her ears and mind with filthy sounds and images from earlier in the hour. Had he had enough of her? She wasn't sure she'd had enough of him. 

His fingertips inched higher, further intoxicating Patrice until a full squeeze on both breasts at the same time made her hiss and wince in pain. 

"Easy, baby," she complained as she gently pressed down on his arms to direct him away from the sensitive area. "They're super tender right now. I'm not sure why." 

Lust was quickly replaced by concern as Terry dropped his hands and turned Patrice to face him. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine, Pooh. It's probably the tattoo healing. 

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be making the entire area hurt. Especially not on both sides. Let me look."

"Terry, you never just look."

His attempt to slide the thin straps of her tank top down her arms was quickly cut short as Patrice brushed off his contact to save herself from what she assumed would come next. Her aching was a serious matter. Terry getting a look at her bare tits was not nearly as high on the list. 

Terry softened his eyes in unmistakable sincerity. "I'm serious, Treece. I know what it should look like. Come here."

Patrice didn't protest as Terry led her to the kitchen table. She stood perfectly still until Terry was comfortable in one of the chairs and then placed her between his legs. 

He gingerly pushed her tanktop straps down her arms before bunching the thin fabric at her waist to free her breasts, watching for any sign of discomfort.

"You don't think you're like…sick, do you?" 

"I think it's just tenderness," she quickly retorted, wanting to push the thought of more grave explanations for her discomfort far from her mind.

"Okay, okay. I'm only asking." 

Her brows furrowed as he lifted the right side to get a look at the moment from a charged few days in his family's old stomping grounds. 

A day alone and nothing to do but explore had them wandering into the same shady tattoo parlor where Terry got his first piece for matching ink. Terry opted to tat their wedding date on his ribs after having to be talked down from plastering her name on his neck. Patrice, however, was set on making her first experience one to remember. 

Slanted script crafted from his handwriting spelled Terry's full first name, curving just under the crease of her boob and the spot that he liked to grip in the depths of passion or simply at his leisure. Terry ran his thumb along each letter to check for abrasions or abnormalities. 

He looked up at Patrice to gauge her reaction. "That hurt?" 

"Not really. It's more here," she added, gesturing toward her areola. "Anything rubbing against it is so uncomfortable. I can barely wear a bra." 

"I noticed. They've honestly been looking a little bigger. Do they feel heavy to you?" 

"Not heavy. Mostly…full? They look great, though. I'm not complaining about that part." 

She joked, the attempt sounding silly once it received no reaction past Terry blinking as he used the pad of his thumb to ghost contact over her pebbled nipple to test her pain level. It was challenging to stay present, with a third of her upper half unnecessarily exposed in their kitchen for no real reason. The entire ordeal felt like a farce. Terrence wasn't a doctor, and him holding her titties in his hands like fleshy snowglobes was as much an actual check-up as WWE was real wrestling. 

When she giggled like a teenager learning about sex for the first time, Terry looked up at her with a quizzical expression, and his left eyebrow lifted high. "What's so funny?" 

"You, Doctor Richmond," she laughed. "How can you tell they're bigger? I couldn't even tell until the other day." 

"I spend a lot of time with my girls. I better notice when they change. Been looking at them since I was sixteen." Terry answered, a boyish grin making his cheekbones nearly touch the corner of his eyes. 

"I knew you used to look!" She exclaimed, finally feeling vindicated in her suspicions from childhood. 

"Looking was the least of what I was doing." He shrugged as he gently pushed both breasts together for his own viewing pleasure. He kissed the small crease they made two times over, then looked up at Patrice through long lashes. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I couldn't diagnose you, but I think I have some treatment available if you're interested." 

Patrice bit back a smile to play along. "Oh yeah? How much is this gonna cost? It's the holidays, and I ain't got it." 

"I offer payment plans that we can discuss in that room back there later tonight." 

"I like the sound of that," she answered, previous problems vanishing into thin air as he roped her back into his web of liquor-charged desire. 

"I knew you would," he winked. "Don't move."

Tingles rippled across Patrice's skin while she listened for any indication of Terry's secretive treatment plan. The soft crack and subsequent rush of cool from the freezer created goosebumps on her bare chest, making her nipples jut out proud from the sensation. Next came the cupboard opening and shutting in two seconds time. From the direction, she could tell he was grabbing a glass from over the sink. 

Ice cubes clinked against the cup like little masters of whispers attempting to give Patrice the scoop on what to expect. Terry quietly shut the freezer and took heavy steps back to his seat, smiling at how Patrice truly hadn't moved a muscle in his few minutes away. 

He placed the glass on the table behind him before tugging her hand to guide her closer. "Cold hot therapy. I sprained my knee once, and this got me back up and running in no time. Ice for the cold…" Terry's voice trailed as he plucked a piece of ice from his glass and pressed it to her nipple. He watched her jaw drop with a sharp inhale, intently focused on the way her eyelids fluttered closed at the sudden shock of frozen water. When a single drop began to make a trail down the swell of her breast, he pulled the ice away and brought his mouth closer. "And I'll take care of the hot."

"Oh…my God." 

Whispers of unexpected pleasure sent Terry into a far-off place where he was only concerned with running a flat tongue across supple skin. Patrice rushed to steady herself by bringing her hands to the back of his head, cradling him while he went to work. 

Ice cold. Soothing warmth. Ice cold. Soothing warmth and a light suckle. Again. And again. 

He eyed her like a lion watches prey, taking notes of every little sound and twitch to know that he was fulfilling his job. 

"Good job, baby," Patrice whispered, her head tossed back and praises spoken to the ceiling. "Good fuckin' job."

Terry ran his hands up the back of her thighs to roughly grip her ass. He groaned at the affirmation before pulling away to retrieve more ice. He held a small cube between his teeth to multitask, running it across her left nipple and areola until it had melted enough to fit both in his mouth. 

Was it fixing her tenderness issue? Not really. But Patrice would be damned if his subtle slurping and moaning with her backside firmly in his clutches wasn't sufficiently taking her mind off things. So far off, she'd lost all concept of time and space. 

While Terry pulled Patrice into his lap for a more intensive inspection, Imani entered the house high off the exhilarating freedom that can only come for night drives with a carefully curated playlist blasting from the speakers. Being stateside for the first time in a year was the perfect opportunity to experience one of life's simple pleasures. 

Grocery bags rustled and knocked against the wall as she hummed along to the fragmented lyrics from a song on her Spotify playlist still coursing through her brain. A short pause in her personal concert to lock the door left space to hear a string of curious noises. Muffled half-sentences and a sort of trembling sigh made her quirk an eyebrow. She thought to herself that Terry and Patrice left the television on far too often for a pair of people who claimed to not spend much time in front of the tube, but quickly found that they'd taken to making a scene the old-fashioned way. 

She stood in the open space, a perfectly shaped eyebrow pushed high on her face and an impressed smirk tugging at the right corner of her lip while she watched her baby cousin makeout with Imani's newest family member with a ferocity she didn't know Patrice had in her. 

Patrice held Terry steady by his jaw, slightly hovering over him while she had her way leading a sloppy kiss. When she moved to push his head back toward her chest with a string of words filthy enough to make a pornstar blush, Imani cleared her throat to finally announce her presence.

"Oh shit," Patrice yelped, rushing to tap Terry's back and end his check-up. 

His head popped up to survey the room, then slowly found a home on top of Patrice's once she pressed close enough against his chest to cover her naked breasts. The vibrations from his concealed chortling made Patrice pinch him in frustration. Nothing was funny, at least not to her. 

Imani held her hands up in faux surrender. "No, please. Don't stop on account of me," she laughed. "Y'all were just getting started." 

"We are so sorry, Moanie. This isn't what it looks like. Well, this part is exactly what it looks like, but I promise it didn't start like this. Terry was looking at my boobs to check on my tattoo and -" 

"Girl, you do not have to explain anything to me. This is your house! Honestly, if I had those big ol' mommy titties, I'd want them in somebody's face too. And you got them for free! The girls gotta go under the knife or get pregnant for those. How does it feel to be God's favorite? Terry, can you help me get the water out of the car when you finish?"

Terry looked down at his visibly distressed wife and then back at Imani to save face for the both of them. "Yeah, I got you. Gimme a minute." 

Moanie didn't notice how she'd launched her cousin into an internal spiral as she pranced off to busy herself with getting ready in her room for the week, but Terry did. He carefully sat Patrice up and helped redress her, careful to ease into conversation. 

"You alright?" 

"I had my cycle this month," Patrice rushed out, her gaze far off as Terry lifted her arm to put it back in her camisole strap. "It can't be that. I had my cycle." When her focus returned, her eyes snapped to Terry's for confirmation. "Right? I did, right?"

He nodded, unsure of how to proceed to quell her fear. "You did, baby. But, maybe…"

Sure, it was lighter than usual, but she'd had a cycle. Her body functioned like it did every month, on time and without pomp and circumstance. There was no cause for concern. 

But…maybe. 

Patrice looked down at her belly then back up at Terry, searching for answers in his sympathetic expression. He leaned forward and held her head with both hands to give her a kiss she couldn't return before he spoke. 

"Don't drink tonight. Just in case. We'll figure it out in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered back without truly processing the gravity of his instruction. 

Terry slowly lifted Patrice from his lap to fulfill Imani's request for assistance, leaving her to stand perfectly still in the kitchen. She counted backward in her head, retracing her steps and important dates until a headache sent her to take a seat. 

It was just tenderness. It'd go away by morning, and all of this would be a silly story to tell whenever they got together in the spring for their European honeymoon. She'd drink an entire bottle of wine over heaps of pasta, turning the whole situation into a fond memory before raising her hand to call the server for another round. All water under the bridge, right?

But…maybe.

------

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[vorfreudevortex]

just for you!

how the jjk boys handle christmas gift wrapping (headcanons, crack, fluff)

✧.* gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, yuji, megumi, noritoshi, ino, inumaki, yuta

masterlist

satoru would think he's just sooo amazing at wrapping gifts, but in reality, they're just a complete mess. he buys super expensive paper, like the really thick ones with gold foil that don't rip. he does make sure to get whatever ribbon and bows match his paper, but they still fail to hide the fact that there is tape everywhere, mostly in places they don't even need to be.

suguru secretly loves wrapping gifts, and is pretty damn good at it. he's very meticulous and matches his paper with his bows and ribbons. he doesn't buy the most expensive paper, nor the cheapest, but somewhere in between. he does try to find clear tape to use instead of the white-ish kind as well.

kento is obviously the king of gift wrapping. he always buys the nice, thick wrapping paper with the lines on the inside so he can make sure his cuts are as straight as possible. he even makes sure to fold the edges of the paper over so the ends are neat. only uses double sided tape, because he wouldn't be caught dead with visible tape on the outside of the gift. his gifts could be taken straight out of a christmas store display case and you wouldn't know any better.

toji doesn't even try fucking around with wrapping paper anymore. he stuffs whatever his gift is into a gift bag and staples it closed. he's has been known to wrap gifts using newspaper or duct tape in the past. when he's the one unwrapping gifts, however, he is surprisingly careful. he doesn't tear the present open, but will pry open one side and slide the gift out to keep the paper intact.

choso tries really, really hard. he definitely watched a few youtube tutorials as well, but couldn't quite catch on. he buys his wrapping paper at any regular store, and only buys bows to put on the most expensive gifts he bought. the paper is gonna be crumpled for sure, you're going to be able to see every point where he messed up and refolded or retaped. the bows are always going to be slightly sideways, but it's endearing nevertheless.

sukuna will actually wrap presents even though he thinks it's stupid. there is tape everywhere and the paper isn't even properly folded, just pushed down wherever he needs it to be. he's grumbling and complaining the entire time. also, he makes uraume get him blood red wrapping paper. don't expect any bows.

yuji is actually pretty decent. he always gets fun and silly wrapping paper and only has to refold a couple of times. there's usually only a few imperfections, like an awkward extra fold somewhere or a small patched area where he mis-measured the size of his gift. he will draw a really bad doodle of whoever the gift is for directly on the paper with sharpie.

megumi gets straight to business with gift wrapping. he buys plain brown paper, but makes sure it's thick enough not to tear. there's minimal tape and mistakes, and the folding is always neat. yuji will ask why he didn't want to buy "jollier "wrapping paper, and megumi will respond with something like, "it's just the gift that matters."

noritoshi treats it like a formal ritual of some sort. the paper is always only one solid color without any fun patterns. his gifts are almost wrapped too perfectly, with double-sided tape hiding beneath the tightest folds. he might buy a ribbon or two to decorate the gifts he bought for the very few people he genuinely cares about. he knows wrapping paper produces a lot of waste but secretly enjoys these careless christmas festivities.

takuma is awful. it takes him hours just to finish wrapping a handful of gifts, just for them to look like he did them in 5 minutes. he made sure to buy thicker wrapping paper this year after tearing all the paper from last year to shreds in his attempts, but it doesn't help at all. there's somehow too little tape and too much tape, all in places they shouldn't be, and every bows is threatening to fall off. his cute, giddy smile when he hands out his presents make up for his lack in skills.

toge loves gift wrapping and does a pretty decent job every time. he makes sure to order goofy paper, usually something with sushi rolls or onigiri on it, even if he has to pay more and wait longer for them to be shipped. only messes up a few times and tries to use clear tape. he tags each person's gift with a different rice ball ingredient to confuse everyone, just because it's funny.

yuta is good at wrapping but overthinks everything. will buy a different pattern of wrapping paper for each person, and spends days on end thinking and rethinking about which one fits them best and if they will like it. he buys clear tape and loops it over to stick under the folds to make them neat, because he was so busy choosing paper that he forgot to buy double sided tape. will retie bows over and over until it's centered and symmetrical. he'll definitely get flustered and a little embarrassed when someone compliments his neat wrapping.

merry christmas and happy holidays!

© vorfreudevortex // all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, or repost my work.

[starry-boyz]

svsss modern au where shen jiu becomes self aware and realizes that they’re in a romcom world.

it’s not a slow realization, more of a sudden awareness and then suddenly everything around him made so much more sense. all of the kissing couples he’s had to walk around on rainy days, the dramatic declarations of love that would occur in the office, the sheer number of bumbling, new interns who would trip and drop documents at the feet of important senior workers, etc.

shen jiu has a crisis about this for approximately two days before slapping himself and being reassured about the fact that he is, in fact, not romcom couple potential. he’s what some have called “a bitch from hell” and he is proud of it. his family is incredibly wealthy yet thankfully completely clean in all the ways that matter. he will be safe from the romcom machinations that his world runs on even if it tries to drag him in kicking and screaming. and he went on with his days content with his distance from it all.

he did not account for shen yuan—his dearest, idiot twin brother.

he should have accounted for shen yuan.

because his brother, lovable despite how much of a bumbling, foul mouthed fool he was, was the perfect material for a modern day romcom. and perhaps shen jiu was an even bigger fool for not realizing it until danger was imminent.

and then liu qingge, famous mma fighter, his nemesis, meets shen yuan and shen jiu just barely holds himself back from ripping the man’s throat out with a combination of his teeth and sheer force of will when the brute’s face erupts into a red flush the moment he makes eye contact with shen yuan.

the shrill, inhuman noise that escaped his mouth in that moment was enough of a distraction for him to be able to grab shen yuan and drag them both to the relative safety of his apartment.

it’s then that shen jiu swears to never let shen yuan get dragged into the machinations of this romcom world, especially not when it wants to bind his twin to that idiot of a brute known as liu qingge.

it really is a shame that the world never listened to shen jiu’s wishes.

because no matter how much he tries to keep the two of them apart from one another, liu qingge somehow ends up meeting with shen yuan at least once a day. it’s maddening enough to drive shen jiu into a stress induced tea-brewing session that shen yuan said tasted bitter—border-lining on burnt.

it’s only when shen yuan starts blushing around the brute as well that shen jiu decides that extreme measures needs to be taken. it comes in the form of the trio of high schoolers that shen yuan has been tutoring: ming fan, ning yingying, and luo binghe.

after much persuasion and bribery (mostly bribery) the three agreed to join him in his mission to keep the two apart.

only, any attempt at foiling the budding romance only seems to spur it on more??? the world seems to be twisting their attempted sabotage into a romantic gesture/opportunity???

putting random, disgusting ingredients in the coffee that shen yuan made for liu qingge? shen yuan trips, spills it on the brute’s shirt, and it leads to them going on a semi-date where shen yuan buys the brute a new shirt.

replacing the rare book that liu qingge was going to gift to shen yuan with fifty shades of grey? shen yuan was thrilled to be able to tear it apart with words and later on with an actual fucking sword that liu qingge just had apparently.

the trio of minions he’s recruited had apparently had their own romcom situations happening in the background with him being none the wiser. (luo binghe attached himself ferociously to an older student named gongyi xiao, ming fan found himself in a rivals-to-lovers situation with liu qingge’s apprentice yang yixuan, and ning yingying found herself being seduced by liu qingge’s sister because of course she did)

shen jiu feels like he’s going insane.

and amongst all of this insanity, it genuinely threw shen jiu for a loop when he found his heart begin to thump when he reunites with his childhood friend, yue qi, who went from a cute and dependable older friend to a handsome man and oh fuck—

[sbcdh]

"You saw it?"

"For a second. Yeah. I saw one."

"Start at the beginning."

"Hoo. Okay. Uhhh... It was 77. I think. I was air force. Or, hypnoengineering support staff contracted to help out around St. Louis."

"That's how you came into your supply of JVH-1"

"It was JVH-11 actually, and yeah, the fuckin, uh- the requisitions officer at Scott was an old buddy of mine. We used to fuck around in college before I, you know-"

"Yes I understand."

"I worked records for Sears-Roebuck, I had all the accounting expertise, as well as a ready supply of LSD."

"How did you start?"

"Oh it was easy at first. Really just selling off phials of the new experimental stuff to finance guys. They'd go nuts for the stuff, pay top dollar for it too. Hell, I could get 100$ for a milliliter. Made it easy to keep my contacts bought in and re-invested. Honestly I don't think the req office would even know that we were skimming if they weren't in on it.

But, you know how it is with hypnoregulation. Transchronological market data is worth it's weight in diamond. It started with the odd photo of a 2q-week readout, then biometric data, then, uh- then. Well, we decided to try it ourselves."

"You attempted full sub-finantial emmanation?"

"No no god no, what're you nuts? No, see. We figured if one person can meld their brain with the market, we just had to get as close as we could to that guy, and mark the twain, hypnologically speaking."

"Mark the twain?"

"Yeah, see, okay. A plutophant in full emmanation isn't like us. We exist at a single point in time, an R1 rational market actor. But they exist in multiple points in time, back in 77, I think the government could hit R6 with that analogue tech. Most people can hit R2 with a single hit of JVH-1, with practice you can hit R3, but anything higher than R3 takes a pretty serious support team. But here's the thing, I had a whole cadre of co-implicated members of a military grade hypnoengineering support team. All we needed was the space."

"The warehouse. Schaeffer Marble and Tile was it?"

"Bingo. See here's the thing. You know why the government had to start building those special regulation temples? It's not just for security. Once you crack the R6 barrier, Plutophants start leaving what's called a wake. You know, like a fuckin, uh, like a boat. They're imperceptible to normal people, but if you have sensitive enough instruments or, say, a person in the edge of sub-market emmanation.

See the government didn't know at the time, but if you balanced the drugs just right, and kept someone right on the edge of R4, you could actually read the plutophant's interpretations by their wake rather than their direct neurofeedback. It's not nearly as precise, but if you have a good team and you know what to look for, you can get some really, really valuable market data that way."

"And your co-worker?"

"You mean Mills? Fuck. Yeah...Mills. Right."

"Take your time."

"No, no I'm good. It's... It's uh, It's dangerous. Brains aren't meant to take that much JVH-11 all at once. We could stay on R4, but what we didn't have was a recovery team, or a medical team, or recon team. It was me, Mills, Israel, Connaught, and Marsh. The five of us were the only ones in the soup. Bruso was running the machines and Lasker was monitoring the readout."

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"Yeah. Yeah. It was a normal intrusion. Hypnogrid emmanation is pretty simple with our tech and support. Sedation was all green, hypnoinduction was green. Smooth as silk. Landed about 40 minutes from our work location. We had the codes from the IRSAW people that morning, all we had to do was maintain hypnoinduction for 40 minutes while traversing the colon and we'd be able to-"

"I'm sorry, colon?"

"Oh come on. Colon. Collective Unconscious. Col-Un. Colon."

"I- of course. Continue."

"Hey, have you ever been on a dive before?"

"Can we focus on your statement?"

"It's important. I need to know if this next bit is gonna make sense to you or not."

"I've undergone basic anti-intrusion training standard for IRS investigation task force officers."

"So you've done safe dives. White room? Castle training? Putting up the wall? All that jazz?"

"That's correct."

"Did they ever tell you why it's dangerous to perform off-site hypnoincursion in meta-unstsble hypnospace?"

"They did."

"Well they're lying...don't look at me like that. I'm not bullshitting you. They're lying...there's...there's shit out there okay? There's things out there."

"Mills?"

"Yeah. Mills. Uh..."

"Take your time."

"Yeah yeah. Quit interruptin me. Mills... Uh, yeah so we were T-Plus 30 into the dive. Bruso gives us a heads up that some hypnoflora is headed our way, but can't get a read on mass. Says we should steer clear, but we are so close. Israel had handled some hypnoflora before, so we weren't worried. But it was... I dunno. I can't explain."

"Do your best."

"Like. Okay. Meta-unstsble dives are fucked. They're acid trips. The St. Louis hypnoscape already doesn't look normal, but Scott Base looked like some kinda bastard lovechild of a medieval castle and a seashell, all twisting up into itself. The streets were a chessboard, and all the streetlights we're these tall kinda mannequin lookin' things holding a tiny sun in their hand. Everything is fucked, it's all topsy turvy. But it's okay, because it's meta-unstable hypnospace, its not SUPPOSED to be normal. And then there was a Red Sock."

"Like for the feet?"

"No. Like. In the middle of this fucked up dreamscape, there's suddenly a batter for the Boston Red Sox. He's standing there, maybe 50 feet away. He's got a bat in one hand and a mitt in the other, and he's just kinda walking towards us. Nobody really knew what to do. It didn't look dangerous, but something wasn't right. It didn't fit. We just kinda stood there, looking at the thing. Israel starts talking to Bruso, asking him what to do. Suddenly, Bruso is screaming at us, telling us to book it. He's screaming into the com, telling us to prepare for de-emmanation. Nobody knows what's happening. Israel is suddenly standing between Mills and the Red Sock, and..."

"Any information you can recall could be of use."

"It's...it's mostly feeling at this point. You ever been having a normal dream? Like, a good, normal dream? And suddenly you realize that something is really, really wrong? There's signs. For me? It's that the lights go out. Suddenly day turns to night, and something about this batter just makes me want to curl up and hide. Suddenly, moving through the world is like trying to swim through molasses. I try to run, but nothing moves, and everything is dark. The world is shifting. There's shadows under the bathroom door that can't be happening. A man who looks like Jesus. An old and terrible house and an old man with no name whose face I can't remember. The batter swings at Mills and she just...vanishes. Shes gone. Bruso pulls us out a second later."

"So this, batter killed Ms. Mills?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. We get out, she's comatose. Whatever that thing did to her, she was still in hypnospace. I gave her a hot shot of barbiturates. Her brain activity slowed to R0 after about 90 seconds."

[simpingforbots]

Idk if you do small oneshots if not I'm sorry

But ever since I saw the a human ended on Cybertron with Megatronus I've been screaming internally by how adorable it was, could you do a small Megatronus x human story where the little human sneaked out and when it came back it was all full of mud and so Megatronus gave them a bath like he does in the "what if a human ended in Cybertron"

hello yes i am happy to do one shot. hope you will enjoy it.

Little heaven

This is not right. You are not supposed to be here at all. stifling your scream, you jumped out of the way of huge bot, who did not even noticed you, continuing on it’s way while chuting with another bot. You then had to quickly gather your self as to not get stomped to death by another bot, rushing towards the gutters, not caring if you gonna find your self among trash and mud. You stutter a bit, feeling gag coming up and started coughing. How did all come to this?

Well you used to live a peaceful life on earth – working, having your own rented apartment, hell you were even going for promotion until you wee suddenly kidnapped by huge bug like creatures, who kept you for experiments, which were not pretty. One day you managed to escape the ship, only to run in to battlefield between your captors and huge fucking robots. You had to run for cover with all your might, trying not to scream as explosion rung all around you and ground shook. Finally running behind a huge rock, you sight with relief for a moment, looking up and trying to figure out your next step while your heartbeat echoed in your head. It did not last long as one of the biggest bots suddenly took cover behind the same rock and looked down, notisisng you.

Megatronus had to take cover, the fire was to much to take and he need to come up with some kind of tactic, diving for cover behind one of many metal rocks, taking a break for a second until he noticed movement in the corner of his optic. Quickly looking down, expecting a grenade only to find some strange small creature, cowering before his presence. It looked like it was made out of the same thing like Quintessons, but instead this little one did not had metal plating. N fact you looked like nothing like Quintessons, more like a cybertronion in fact. Just made out of flash and with strange things on your head. He had no time to think as an actual grenade landed next to you and quickly grabbed you, surprised for a moment just how small you are and returned the grenade to sender. When all was over and Quintessons ran, he let a sigh of relief, letting his shoulders slump with ease and focus on you, still on his fist pressed against his chest. Slowly pulling his servo away from his chest and unwrapped it, he saw that the strange thing was still alright, just scream and cowering in his hand, not bigger then his digits. Cocking his helm a bit, he nudged you with one of his digits, feeling your soft flesh give in and you whimper from suden touch. He looked up alerting others and changed the grip on you, piking you up by scarf of your clothes, showing you off to others. And with that your fate was sealed. You were brought to place, quickly figure out that those who took you in was some kind of royalty, living in a very-very big place with gold and other luxury. Out of 13 strange robots he seemed to be the tallest and the meanest, well at least when in publick, in privet you found out he was quite soft, choosing to shower you in affection,  tenderness and “love”. You felt like some kind of chihuahua dog to be honest, a candy eye or something like his. All your communication attempts were discarded like gibberish and intelligible, though you did learn how to repeat his name in rough ways, but it was now shown like some kind of party trick to others. You would always be by his side no matter what, meeting, walking or just doing simple boring work, you must be there. You “followed” him around either by ridding his shoulder or ridding a strange floating pad that would never stray away from him, which you honestly did not prefer as your legs would wobble any time you tired to stand up. When you were alone with him, he would take of his mask, showing a surprisingly soft face for someone with his status and would let deep soft rumble when you were brave enough to reach and touch it. He would also pet you time to time with his huge digits, running them across your hair or your back, something that helped him o calm down or relax during boring meetings. You were also provided some kind of armour, small and somewhat resembling his, but you still did your best not to wear it. But now you used it to your advantage. With enough materials, you managed to get time of being alone and snuck out, climbing down a huge tower and getting on to the streets of strange metal city. Though you did not plan this far and had to quickly hide in gutters just to stay alive, silently regretting running away. You slumped against the wall, trying to calm your heart from beating like crazy all while trying to form next step of plan. Surely if you return the big one won’t be to happy to see you like this and learn that you snuck off, on the other hand maybe if you scavenged around a bit more you might find a way home. Nodding to your self, you pushed your self up and strated traversing though pipes, hoping to find a way to the surface.

Megatronus reached his room after another boring meeting, he really did not wanted to sit there without you, but you were asleep in your little nest of pillow so he decided to et you rest. He rumble with joy as he slowly walked up to the nest only to freeze. You were not there, and a strange rope like structure hand down from the edge. You made this to escape. Why? How? When? All sort of questions run though his mind as he looked all over his quarters, trying to find you hiding somewhere. You were not there, leading to the only way he can find you. Piking up a tablet, he turned it on and immideatly got your location. He knew you would do this someday, just not this soon, so he installed a tracker in to your armour, which was a great gift from Solus, he really should thank them. Watching a small red dot on map moved slowly, he resumed you were looking for safe space and with map in hand, left the quarters and ventured down in to Iacon. Of course he immideatly got all the unwanted attention, he just kept walking, following the small dot, guessing you got in to gutter system as he was literally walking on top of you now, silently following. Soon he was left alone by his people and managed to follow you in to the exit, stopping and waititng. It did not even took a click for you to climb out, looking around for any danger, yet failing to see him right behind you, and climb out. You looked horrible and miserable, almost falling over immideatly and trying to get up. He wanted to see what is it you planed, letting out a huff, that gave him away as you turned around so fats he ha to tack a step back. You strated screaming and ran, probably looking for another hole to hide, yet your size gave you a lot of advantage just as many disadvantages, like being small and slow. He quickly wrapped his servos around you, piking you up and heading back, ignoring your weird chatter and kicking and soft punches. You were just upset about being cough for doing something you were not, but for now he was glad you were relatively alright. Returning to his room, he left you in a box, knowing now that your little nest could serve as escape plan as well, leaving to go get some cleaning supplies to help you clean off. Upon his return you were sulking in the corner, refusing to say anything and just let him do what ever he wants, which was much batter then with you fighting him all the way. Piking you up, he easily took the armour of and gently lowered you in to a cube with water getting first layer of muck off, than added the soap and started slowly rubbing the mud of you. Ususaly he would let you do it by your self, knowing how you valued this small moment of privacy and how violently you fought for this, but now it was sort of punishment for running away, not letting you do it by your self at all. When you were done, he wrapped you up in towel and hold you close, just happy that he managed to find you before any harm come to you and quietly pondered if it will be best to make sure you won’t run away again. EVER.

[thewistlingbadger]

Me? A Silco sympathizer? Well, yes. Yes actually I am because the more I think about the more I think I have to be.

Silco was a young man who grew up with so much pain and suffering around him. All he ever knew was hardship, but despite it all he managed to live the best life he could have possibly managed for himself. He had community, family, and friendship. He had respect for others and the respect of others. He had a dream, people worth fighting for, people that loved him and people he in return loved. And he lost everything. He lost the very people he was fighting for, the ones that cared about him. He lost his humanity at the hands of Vander, his own brother who brutally betrayed him. Vander seemingly blindsided Silco at the river. He blamed him for something that was nowhere near his fault. He gave up on their dream, their home, at the first sign of trouble. He seemingly got Silco's peers and neighbors to turn on him and see him as nothing more than a monster. Can you imagine the confusion and hurt Silco must have felt in that moment? Or even the years afterwards? From Silco's perspective, he has no idea why Vander did what he did, and Vander never made any attempt to try to make amends. Vander was going to kill him that night. How do you think Silco felt, raising a knife against his kin just to save his own life? How do you think Silco felt looking the mirror every day after, knowing that a person he loved so deeply had became a monster and turned Silco into a literal monster? How do you think Silco felt when he walked the streets of Zaun and saw the way people recoiled away from him, because of his eye and reputation?

Silco was a good person. He had hopes and desires and a capacity to be kind. And all that, everything that made him him, everything that made him a human in his own eyes and the eyes of society was ripped away from him. He lost it all and he had to do it alone. Silco seemingly had no one outside of Vander and Felicia and he lost both of them. How do you think Silco reconciled that? Do you think he blamed himself for everything? Did he search his memories trying to find the exact moment where things went wrong? Did he think it was his fault that Vander betrayed him, that he deserved it in some way? Or did he know that he didn't deserve it, did he know that night was all on Vander? Did Silco hate himself for Felicia's death? Did he see himself responsible for her the same way Silco did? Did he ever wonder what became of her body, of her children? Or could he not bear the thought?

Silco had zero tools to help himself process his trauma and he didn't have a single person to comfort him. So what did Silco do? He accepted what happened to him in the only way he knew how. He completely abandoned the man he used to be, the man that knew love and affection and paid the price for it. He became the monster Vander saw him as. He dedicated his existence to the cause Felicia died for, the cause Vander was willing to kill him for. He didn't care about the costs and consequences and why should he have? Everything, literally everything he had and cared about was gone. The only thing Silco had left to lose was his own life, so he may as well try his hardest to get independence for his city, for his people, for himself, for Felicia's memory. And in the process he completely damned himself to a miserable and bitter life without humanity. And despite it all, despite how much he tried to put things in the past, to completely reinvent himself, he couldn't do it. The pain was still there. The man he used to be lived, even if it was in the smallest way.

There are a few moments where you can see his vulnerability. For example, the scene where he and Vander talk for the first time since the betrayal. Despite everything that Vander did to him, Silco still wanted Vander to work with him. He still saw Vander as his brother, and he still loved him. "I trusted you...and you betrayed me." You can see the pain in his eye when he says those words, how much he wishes things were different. We see how lonely he is, how he has no one except Jinx and Sevika, how he's isolated himself from any possible connection. We see how stressed he is all the time, how he's so tired of it all.

But the clearest way to see Silco's humanity is with Jinx. We can see a clear switch in him when he comes across Jinx as a child. He has no reason to take her in, to comfort her, and yet he does it anyway. He holds her with all the gentleness he has and whispers words of solidarity and understanding. Silco is always at his weakest when he's with Jinx, because Jinx makes him human again. Jinx makes him loving and warm and himself again. Jinx is healing him and he cares so much for her. He's so afraid to lose her, so afraid that she'll leave him like Vander did. His manipulation comes from a place of insecurity and fear. He tells her things that aren't true because he wants them to be true so desperately. He wants to be Jinx's family. He wants Jinx to stay with him. Jinx is the only person that is able to do this to him, to show him this softness he hasn't had in so long. Only with her does he talk softly. Only with her does he open up and share his own struggles. She's the only person who he fully trusts. She's the only person he ever engages in affection with and she's the only person he accepts affection from. And when he does touch her, it's always like she's delicate. Like she's something to be treated with care and the utmost preciousness. By having a trauma similar to his own she gives him someone to relate and confide him. Jinx is the only person who can possibly understand Silco and look past his actions to see the real him. A man who was hurt and abandoned so long ago that now all he knows is that hurt. A man who forgot what it was like to have family, to have people that care about you and want you around. Silco let's Jinx hurt him all the time, physically and emotionally, because he's terrified of the idea of being alone again. As long as she doesn't leave him he's fine with the pain, he can take it. He just doesn't want to go back to the way his life was before her. He wants it so much he willingly gives up his goal for it, he willingly DIES for it. Even when she does the thing that traumatized him, even when she kills him in cold blood and seemingly betrays him, he still loves her. He still can't find it in himself to hate her for all the pain she's caused him. She means so much to him that he uses his final breath, his last words, on her. To comfort her, like he's not the one with bullets in his chest. It's so important to him that she knows he loved her with everything he possibly had to offer.

[brightaxe]

UNEARTH — emmrook.

Words: 2738. Characters: Emmrich Volkarin x Rook — Anais Ingellvar. Rating: Teen. Summary: Trying to sleep when injured is a near-impossible thing, but with Emmrich's assistance, Rook finds the comfort she needs to get some rest. AO3 LINK.

Anais shut her eyes as she sank - carefully - down onto her bedroll, favoring one shoulder above the other. Still, she felt the pulled muscle in her chest stretch as she eased herself back. It sent an ache along the length of her collarbone and into her sternum, a warm pain radiating throughout her upper torso. Her breath caught in the quiet of her tent — a strained whisper of surprise.

The group did not spend much time outside of the Lighthouse, not with Solas's extensive network of eluvians close at-hand, but on that night, they had no other choice.

A wrenched arm and a broken bone stopped them in their tracks, kept them from returning home, but luckily, neither she nor Harding had been infected with the Blight during the battle. The same could be said of Emmrich, who'd spent the better part of the afternoon and the beginning of a tumultuous night tending to their scout's leg.

Lace was no longer suffering from her injury, at least, and the gentle hum of Emmrich's caretaking had quieted hours ago, leaving behind only the crackle of a soft-spoken fire and the inobtrusive song of nature as it settled in to sleep, just as they were.

Propped up against her pack and the well-loved pillow she often carried with her, Anais shifted, turning, fussing with her weary limbs in an attempt to find a comfortable position. She sighed, frustrated, but even that made her chest spasm. Even after so many months of training to improve her stamina, the slightest injury felt like the end of something. She was no physical ideal, no honed image of health. She was just a foolish young woman who'd whipped her staff around in a panic and pulled something.

Typical scholar bullsh.it.

How exhausting.

Anais pinched her eyes shut again in hopes of forcing the issue of sleep. Behind her eyelids, she saw the faint glow of the campfire. From her right ear, a muffled and indistinct hum, and from her left, a clearer song, as Arlathan's unstable magic coiled through the air around her. Gooseflesh rose on her arms from both the forest's ancient suffering and her fresher, clearer pain, like a bell in a storm.

There would be no sleeping, then, not without the aid of alcohol or a particularly potent potion.

Instead of reaching for either, she sought out a different method. A tangle of words occurred to her — a broken Nevarran lullaby that she could barely recall. There were spotted beetles' wings, each of them numbering differently, and a child that sought to set them in a row. The lullaby was a maze of a thing, and without remembering the song to the letter, Anais lost herself inside of it.

She was so lost, in fact, that she didn't hear Emmrich clear his voice outside of her tent. So lost that her lack of a response led to him poking his head inside, equal parts curious and worried.

"Anais?"

The woman in question sat suddenly upright — more surprised than cautious — and she let go of a string of curses that she muffled into the cup of her palm. A tremor followed the curve of her spine as she curled over the throb in her chest, but she bit her lip to keep from uttering the pained sound that clawed at her throat.

Healing a broken bone required an incredible amount of magic, and she would not demand more from their professor, not for something that even she would be able to mend if her reservoir of mana hadn't been so depleted by the fight they'd stumbled into that afternoon.

But he would insist.

Even in the shadowed half-dark of her tent, she saw in his eyes that he would insist.

"I… apologize for the profanity, professor," Anais murmured, blinking hot tears onto her lashes rather than her flushed cheeks. She smoothed her hand over her face from her lips to her brows and rubbed the warm skin beneath her bangs. "I was just drifting off."

Emmrich swept away her concerns and her lies with a mere flick of his wrist.

"An impressive feat, considering our surroundings," he offered before glancing around the… intimate interior of her tent. With barely enough room for one and a half grown adults to stretch out comfortably, there was nowhere near enough space to stand for someone quite so lanky. "Our fearless leader really ought to be granted more comfortable lodgings."

Despite the tension in her chest, Anais felt the corners of her mouth twitching into something resembling a smile.

"Do you intend to carry it?"

Emmrich's gaze circled back to hers. His brows rose. "Oh, I couldn't imagine."

Her laugh was a quick little thing, but from the gleam in his eyes, she saw that he hadn't missed it.

"Here, sit to my right."

Anais shifted even as he opened his mouth to stop her, gingerly pivoting her body onto her right side and scooting to give him room enough to sit. She was still getting used to maneuvering around her hearing loss, and the enchanted aid she'd been given once she recovered from her fever did not play nice with the ambient magic that dwelled in Arlathan forest.

She barred her arm over her chest, hoping to stabilize the muscle as she moved and somewhat succeeding. "Before you offer, though," she began as he let himself down onto the far side of her bedroll, grunting under her breath as she shifted her generous hips onto the other, "I will have to decline any offers of healing."

"I —"

"Not until you've rested, at the very least," Anais amended.

Emmrich tutted, but Anais felt herself more charmed than chastened.

"Such interruptions and each of them unnecessary. I came to offer you my healing in the morning," Emmrich explained, "and to see if there was anything you required in the interim."

He drew no attention to it, but Anais saw him lift his chin in a way he never did when speaking to the others, as if he was hoping to pour his words down into her good ear so that his intentions wouldn't be lost to the bad. Something about his unspoken efforts left her feeling even warmer than before. There was no shortage of butterflies teasing the lining of her stomach, either. They were worryingly plentiful.

But she was not so inexperienced with speaking that she couldn't open her mouth without spilling her wanting all over the bedroll between them.

"I cannot think of a single thing, truthfully, save for the pleasure of your company."

Emmrich's eyes widened, if only a little. One day, they would know each others' steps. One day, every compliment and every promise and every smile wouldn't be a surprise. There was a comfort in that, in the guarantee of a… like-minded friendship.

Without his wrists' usual adornments, his movements did not clink or glimmer. He stretched his hands out, long, elegantly tapered fingers spreading, testing them for tremors only to find them gravely still. Even hours of healing was not enough to weaken him. And he wasn't even half as occupied with stamina training as she was.

In another world, at another time, she might have been embarrassed that a man some thirty years her senior was in finer shape than she was, but on that night, she was more inclined to watch him than worry about the state of herself.

She was too tired to complain.

He thumbed over the opposite wrist as a thoughtful expression settled on his face, the digit's tip sliding beneath the stiff wrist of his sleeve. "Were you having some difficulty finding your sleep, then?"

This time, Anais's sigh was implied.

If she didn't want the pain to return with a vengeance, she knew that she couldn't be so generous with her sighs. And she knew that she'd been found out, as well. He knew she hadn't been drifting off, that he hadn't interrupted a moment of her sleep. There was no relaxation to be found alongside pain, not without the intervention of magic or medicine.

Rather than responding with a simple yes, Anais bobbed her head in a nod.

"There may not be much room for us to share," Emmrich said, his voice slow and softly nasal as he settled down at her side, more easily than she had by half, "but if it is company you want in your hour of need, it is company you shall have."

Anais could not stop herself.

Leaning against the butt of her pack, she peered over at him and murmured a quiet, "Not need so much as want."

"In your hour of want, then."

Anais's dark eyes drifted shut, but she did not find the sleep that was so adeptly avoiding her. Instead, she spoke, murmuring a question as their bodies anchored nearer to each other: "How is Lace's leg?"

"The bone is set, and the muscle is in better shape than yours." Emmrich's report was a gentle thing. It lacked in an abundance of detail given the hour, but there was a precision that she appreciated. He always knew how to deliver news. "I planned to return to the Lighthouse in the morning and request Davrin's aid in bringing her back."

Without opening her eyes, Anais asked, "And what of me?"

"I thought you would require a great deal of my attention in the morning, hence my offer, but the pain is almost entirely from inflammation." She felt only a hint of pressure on her collar as his fingertips followed the fire-hot swatch of skin beneath the open collar of her tunic. "But I believe I am more than capable of healing you now."

His skin was soft. His fingertips bore no calluses save for the ones gained from decades of gripping a quill. He smelled of campfire smoke and medicinal balm, of faded sweat and a perfume that barely clung to his clothes.

Anais exhaled slowly.

Only when she took in another breath and her chest pressed flush against Emmrich's touch did she feel a tremble in his hand — the hand that had been so steady mere moments before.

"Emmrich?"

She opened her eyes to find him nearer to her than he had been before. No more than a foot separated their faces. Just enough light crept through the tent's walls to illuminate the sharp planes of his face, though the finer details were lost to shadow. His eyes were on her, though, and his lips were parted. Those two details, she kept circling back to.

His fingertips settled almost weightlessly against her collar. After a hard swallow and a moment of gathered strength, they no longer trembled.

"Yes, Anais?"

"Did you come in here to heal me, or did you come in here to kiss me?"

Both, Emmrich responded without using his words.

A faint golden glow bled from his fingertips into her skin and the wounded muscle underneath it, but the relief that followed was nothing compared to the spike of excitement that shot through her the moment his lips pushed into hers in the half-dark. He sucked in a sharp breath as they made contact, moments before his mouth opened again to kiss eagerly over her upper lip.

Just before the kiss, they had been far enough apart that their bodes only touched at the knees, but the distance was soon remedied as Anais squirmed forward, her pain earlier nothing more than a faded ache. Her thigh slid between his. Her belly tucked against the pliant curve of his skinny body. And her chest pushed flush against his own, with his hand still pinned in between them.

Her teeth brushed against his lip before biting down, and she felt his reaction more than heard it as his hips rocked forward against the soft fat of her hip.

Emmrich's mouth shifted the moment she allowed him his freedom, following the curve of her chin and the broad line of her jaw before demanding another kiss and another kiss and another. The hand pressed between their chests kneaded at the tender flesh above her breast rather than beneath, thumbing against the collar he'd been so intent on touching before sliding farther downward from her chest to her waist.

"Anais."

Hearing her name on his tongue left her breathless, unable to kiss him again as she leaned her forehead against his and sucked in a hungry breath. She held onto his jaw, half-cradling his cheek in her hand, as she struggled to clear the haze that had filled her mind from the healing as much as his mouth.

"Anais," Emmrich whispered to her, his nose brushing against hers as he waited patiently for her to recover. "My intention was to apologize for not tending to you tonight and leaving you languishing in such pain, but it appears… I could not help myself."

The hand poised on her waist slid around to the small of her back, and his fingers curled into her tunic, gripping at her, coaxing her closer. There was no space that remained between them, but that did not stop him from attempting to move nearer to her. And that did not stop her from encouraging it, her hips turning into him and above him as she pressed him back against her pillow.

Long, dark hair hung over her shoulder and pooled across his narrow chest, making it look every bit as if he was drowning in her.

"I could not bear to see you in such a wounded state," Emmrich whispered. He lifted his fingers to the hair that spilled over him, brushing his fingertips through the near-black locks and across the long line of her ear. "Nor could I bear to see you unkissed." A smile touched the corner of his thin lips. "Apparently."

Anais leaned forward, past his hand, and pushed her face against the carefully buttoned collar that laid against his long neck.

When he spoke, she couldn't hear the crackle and pop of the fire. She couldn't feel the strange whisper of elven magic against her skin. As close as she was to him, Emmrich was all there was — his scent, the movement of his chest, the sound of his breathing. Weariness tugged at her shoulders, at her limbs, weighing her down against his chest.

"Oh, darling," he exhaled. He pushed her hair away from her face and gathered it close to his own again. "You must rest."

Anais moved to protest, moved to kiss him again, but found the fingertips of his free hand nestled against her lips, stopping her just short of her goal. His brow pinched sharply upward before he gave a shake of his head.

"I would like nothing more than to indulge the both of us for hours…"

Anais strained forward, her mouth moving in the shape of an ardent, "Please," against his fingers.

"… but we must think of our companion."

Wanting was a selfish thing, but without the pain in her chest, she felt as if she deserved to be selfish, if only a little. But she also knew that Emmrich would not budge once he set down his foot, no matter how much he wanted what she offered, no matter how warm the sound of her voice had made him. And so, she relented.

Not once since meeting Emmrich Volkarin had she considered the path they would take towards each other — that pain would lead to relief would lead to a fire that threatened to turn her belly to ash.

"On one condition," Anais murmured as she settled down by his side. Her cheek found the curve of his shoulder, and she wound an arm across his tapered waist. His fingers wove into her hair before rubbing at the scalp beneath.

"Mm?"

"Talk to me." She buried her nose against him. Her next words were muffled, but making them out wasn't difficult. "Until I fall asleep."

Where she laid her head, Anais could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

Emmrich did not want to sleep any more than she did.

His lips found the top of her head.

And until she fell asleep, he spoke — of a winding Nevarran lullaby, with beetles and their numbered wings and the child who sought to keep them all in line. He took her hand and led her through the maze, and she swore to herself that she would never forget their order.

[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

chapter tags: discussions of a burn victim (nothing graphic), discussions of suicide and mental health, very brief mentions of things that happened in past chapters (Tommy's mom, military, red handkerchief, implied noncon), anxiety, depression, background character death, Tommy calls the crisis hotline

read below or on ao3

Day 10: 2022

“I'm calling Roberts in early, you can go home.”

“Captain Marks-”

“No, Kinard! What you did out there was careless. You could've gotten yourself killed.”

“And if I'd done nothing, that man would be dead.”

“He's gonna wish he were dead if he ever wakes up! He's got third degree burns on over seventy percent of his body! I don't mean to be harsh, Tommy, but you risked your life for a dead man walking!”

“So?” 

Marks took a deep breath, sitting back in his chair. “I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear you say that. I know emotions are high right now, but you know as well as I do I can't have a pilot that isn't concerned about whether they live or die.”

“That's not-”

“Stop talking, Kinard,” Marks warned. “You're on the ground for five shifts, I'll reevaluate things myself after that. If I have any hesitation, for even a moment, about your intentions here, you're getting a psych eval. That'll put you on the ground forever. You understand me?”

Tommy pursed his lips, nodding his head. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, go home, enjoy the rest of your Christmas, come back next shift with a clear head.”

*****

By the time Tommy got home, it was nearing ten o'clock at night. His brain was a jumbled mess. It didn't seem to matter how many times he hit the punching bag in his garage, it was never enough.

After a quick shower, he thought about laying down.

But even the idea of that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

So, he began to pace.

He paced, and paced, and paced, with his hands on his hips. From the living room, to the kitchen, down the hall, and back again.

It all felt like too much. He wasn't just thinking about today. He was thinking about his mom. He was thinking about the military. He was thinking about the red handkerchief. He was thinking about waking up in a stranger's apartment with no clue what happened the night before.

He was thinking, thinking, thinking, pacing, pacing, pacing, and he needed it all to stop.

Just stop!

So he did something he never thought he'd do.

He wasn't even sure what made him do it.

All he remembered was pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing the number.

988.

“988 crisis lifeline, this is Penny. How can I help you today?”

He froze.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

He swallowed. Closed his eyes.

“I'm here.”

“Oh, good. May I ask who I'm speaking with?”

“Tommy,” no attempt to try for a fake name.

“Hi, Tommy! I'm Penny. I know I said it before, but I like to make sure the people I speak to heard me. Tommy, ca-”

“I'm not... I don't wanna kill myself,” Tommy interrupted, needing to make it clear. “I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Okay.” Her voice was soothing, familiar almost. A voice that Tommy hadn't heard in years. “That's what I'm here for, Tommy. What's on your mind?”

He tried to think of what to say. Tried to figure out the perfect way to start the conversation.

He was usually so put together.

But everything felt off.

“I hate Christmas.”

He wasn't sure why that was the first thing that popped into his brain at this moment, but it was out there now.

“A lot of people have complex feelings about holidays. It can be tough sometimes, no doubt about it.”

The tiny admission seemed to open a floodgate for Tommy. “My mom was thirty-eight when she died, and I'm thirty-eight now,” he explained. He was sure the words coming out of his mouth were just as jumbled as the thoughts in his head. “And she- she didn't die around Christmas. She actually died in June, so I don't know why I keep thinking about her today of all days, but I do. Not just her; I'm thinking about a lot of things. But it all sort of leads back to her at the end, I guess.”

“Was Christmas important to her?” Penny asked.

“She loved it when I was really little. Always liked looking at the lights and taking me to the mall to pick out things I wanted. I think my dad ruined Christmas for her though.”

“He wasn't big on the holiday?”

“He wasn't big on family. Looking back, I can see how being with him changed her. I didn't recognize it back then.”

“You were young. She probably didn't want you to recognize it.”

Tommy sighed, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. “She didn't get thirty-nine Christmases, you know? And that doesn't really seem fair. Because I'm here for my thirty-ninth Christmas and I don't even like the damn day. She deserved more. She deserved better.”

“It's never easy to understand why the people we love get taken from us too soon. It can be especially difficult when we lose them as a child.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “She didn't get taken from me,” he bit out, “she left me.”

There was a pause on the line, then, “I'm sorry?”

“Yeah, she uh, she made that choice to leave herself. Stuck me with my dad, who never really gave a crap about me in the first place, and she... she was just gone.”

“I'm sorry about that, Tommy. That's a lot to have to deal with as a kid.”

“I don't ever talk about it, about her. I don't really have anyone to talk about it with. My dad never cared for emotions, so I just plaster a smile on my face and put my shoulders back and keep going.” Tommy shook his head, clearing his throat and wiping away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. “That's not why I called though. Not because of her.”

“Okay,” Penny replied. “Tell me why you called, Tommy.”

Tommy rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension running through his body. “I did something stupid at work today, and I knew better. I just didn't care.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I work for the fire department. I'm a firefighter pilot, but today I was on the ground. We were called to a fire at this house- well, more like a mansion- and we thought we had the place cleared. Then the daughter started yelling for her dad. I headed back inside and found him, um,” Tommy paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It's okay, Tommy. Take your time.”

“He- He was at the source of the fire. A fairly large space heater exploded and the fire had spread quickly. The house was about to collapse, and I was being told to get out, but I stayed. Long story short, I was able to get the man out right before the structure collapsed. He was severely burned though. If he makes it, and it's a big if, he's going to wish he hadn't. My captain won't let me fly for a while now. Sent me home early.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I wasn't even supposed to work today. I took the shift because I hate this damn holiday.”

“You've mentioned that three times now,” Penny noted.

“What?”

“How much you dislike Christmas. Tommy, do you think that maybe the risk you took today had something to do with the fact it's Christmas? Emotions were already high, making you take risks you wouldn't usually take?”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed. “Maybe? I don't really know though, because I feel like I'm ready to take those same risks any day, anytime. I said it before, and I meant it, I'm not trying to die. I just... I don't think I care if I do. It didn't matter to me if I didn't make it out. We're all gonna die someday, you know? That's what I always figure. What's it matter if it's now?”

“I think it would matter to the people who love you. The people who care about you.”

“I don't think I know anyone well enough for them to be affected by my death.”

“Well, it would matter to me,” Penny replied matter-of-factly, and Tommy couldn't help but let out a laugh.

“I dunno, I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.”

“Thank God for that, I'd hate it if you were too perfect.”

“Well, I never said I wasn't perfect. Perfect and bitch can go together, right?”

“I think it's a great pairing.”

A smile lingered on Tommy's face. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke to someone so openly. “Penny?”

“I'm here.”

“Would you stay on the phone with me until Christmas is over?”

“Honey,” she answered, Tommy softening at the name, “I can honestly say there's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

Penny stayed on the phone with him until 12:01. She was willing to stay on the line longer, but by the time Tommy had watched the clock strike midnight, he was ready to go to bed.

He felt better. A little lighter than he had in a while.

He'd been in bed for about fifteen minutes, and was just dozing off when his phone buzzed.

It was Captain Marks.

The man from the house fire died on the operating table.

I know you wanted to save him, Tommy.

Unfortunately we can't save them all.

Tommy stared at the texts for a good ten minutes before switching over to the phone app and dialing 988 again.

[fanfoolishness]

Kiss meme:

Lucanis x Rook 26

Harding x Rook 38

I did already write one for Harding x Rook for running out of time, which is here! But I hope you enjoy this extremely fluffy Lucanis x Rook for a kiss as an apology. Set directly after the dessert scene.

-

“You don’t have to walk me back to my room, you know,” Rook said, her voice rich and amused. “It isn’t far.”

“You didn’t have to say yes,” Lucanis countered, smiling as they entered the Lighthouse together. He felt as if he couldn’t stop smiling. She’d been delighted with the churros he’d made her, and even better, she’d understood what he’d really meant by them. A few crumbs of cinnamon still dusted the corners of her lips. He was seized by a sudden desire to wipe them away.

Rook makes you feel safe, Spite observed. The demon had been easier to understand since the strange trip to the shadow-Ossuary. Rook’s doing, most likely. Makes you lighter. Touch her? Keep her!

Lucanis swallowed. There was little he’d like to do more. But ah, he was being greedy… she had already told him tonight that what he did was enough. That he was enough. The memory warmed him, bolstered him in the quiet chill of the Lighthouse. It was always so still here when the others were asleep. He wondered if Rook could hear his heartbeat.

“Lucanis?” Rook asked, pausing at the foot of the stairs. She leaned against the banister, giving him a curious look, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Is Spite there?”

“You noticed,” he said, stopping one step up. “Forgive me. He chatters about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” she chuckled.

Rook likes us! Tell her. Show her!

I did! With the churros! Lucanis thought irritably. And she likes me.

I didn’t see. Chasing wisps. Tell her again!

“Still there?” Rook asked, her expression of amusement fading to faint concern. Lucanis shook his head, coming back to himself as if coming up for air.

“He is… insistent.” And perhaps not wrong. He took a small step closer to her, narrowing the distance between them.

“About what?”

“That I be honest,” Lucanis said, and before he could back away or think better of it, he leaned forward, closed his eyes, and kissed her.

He should have closed his eyes last, he realized belatedly. His nose bumped into hers, and his attempt left his lips askew, catching just the edge of her mouth. He tasted crumbs of sweet cinnamon sugar.

Then her hand was on his cheek, and she adjusted their position until her lips moved against his, warm and soft, a hint of her open mouth and tongue leaving his legs unsteady and his chest blooming with fire. She pulled away, her eyes bright, her nose and cheeks slightly pink. Was she blushing?

He took a deep, shaky breath. ”I am sorry,” he said.

Rook raised her eyebrows so high they nearly vanished. “For what? Lucanis, that was—” She grinned, giggling. “Very enjoyable.”

“For not doing it earlier,” Lucanis said, exhaling. “I wanted to. But I hadn’t — I did not know if —“ He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say about that day in the pantry. He’d known what he wanted then, but couldn’t say it, couldn’t go through with it. But things were different now.

She did make him feel safe.

He smiled back at her. “Never mind. I hope you do not mind my clumsiness. I am new at this.”

She resumed climbing the stairs, and he walked along beside her. “Well, don’t you worry about that,” she said, leaning over and nudging his shoulder as they reached the top of the stairs. “You’ve mastered assassination and cooking. I have a feeling you can master anything you put your mind to. And if you need me to help you practice, um — I’d be happy to help.” She was definitely blushing.

He felt his own cheeks warm in response. “I am looking forward to, ah, training with you.”

“Stop it,” she chuckled. “You’re terrible.”

“I’ve been told this, yes.”

They stopped in front of the hallway to Rook’s room, and she gave him a fond look. “I suppose I’d better get some rest. I do feel sleepy after that feast you made us.” She reached out, squeezing his arm gently, her touch electric in the best way. “See you tomorrow, Lucanis. Get some rest, will you? Both of you. For me?”

Lucanis laughed. A direct request from Rook? That would be enough for Spite. He could sense Spite’s glee in the back of his mind. Or was it his own? It was hard to tell right now.

“I will do my best,” he promised. He tipped his head to her in a small nod and headed back down the stairs, his hand jittery on the banister, the taste of cinnamon on his tongue.

He would certainly try to get some rest. No more coffee tonight, which would help. But this new joy flaring within him, bright and fierce and soaring, might make sleep elusive for a little while longer.

He didn’t mind a bit.

[moriitis]

Hey! Happy holidays, moriitis!

This is an unusual curiosity, but... What do you think about Toby being a father?

I feel like he wouldn't like having a child, or maybe he would, I don't know... do you think he would be a good father? (Let's suppose that hypothetically you have a daughter)

Have a nice Christmas, I love you! 💗

Father!Toby Rogers HeadCanons. Fem!Reader.

FIRST, I wanna say how fucking weird it was reading this ask at 5 am because I shit you not, before I went to sleep THIS VERY THOUGHT crossed my mind and I told myself I was gonna write this today. GET OUT OF MY HEAD. No, on a real note, glad we are on the same wave length. I LOVE THIS and thank you for requesting it! Have the most happiest of holidays yourself! <3 AND NO I LOVE YOU.

Content/Warnings; abortion, mentions of miscarriages, blood, birth, children, babies.

If you had asked him what he did on a specific Wednesday two weeks ago, he'd have no idea. That was one of the downsides to being a proxy; the memory loss and foggy mind. But fuck, did he remember the morning you told him you were pregnant. His heart fell through his ass, his skin colour turning fifty shades paler than usual.

Admittedly, his first reaction was to laugh. He'd snort in your face and narrow his eyes suspiciously toward you.

"Weird fucking thing to say."

Would be one of the first things he would say. Because you pranked him so often that he simply didn't believe you and it was such a weird fucking thing to say? What a weird prank?

But when you didn't laugh, his lips pursed nervously and he shifted from one foot to the other. The silence was louder than anything as you both stared at each other. The seriousness on your face, this was going too far.

"You're on birth control... right?"

And before he knew it, you were tearing up and right there and then he wanted a hole to swallow him up and eat him. This was bad, no, worse than bad; this was really fucking serious.

Slender would fucking kill him, he'd kill him first and then kill you. This wasn't supposed to happen, shit, he shouldn't have been fucking with you in the first place and now you were fucking pregnant?!

He wanted to panic, he wanted to dart out the door and leave forever but he was tied to Slender. Not just as a proxy, but a slave; a mere worker.

It was the look on your face too, he couldn't leave you? What kind of man were he? Not that he had a particularly good role model for what being a man was like

God forbid he turned into that man.

"Okay."

He would start -

"Okay, okay, ooookay."

He was reassuring himself more than he were reassuring you and his hands reached out to grip firmly on your shoulders. This didn't have to happen, he could.. well, you could fall down some stairs or better yet, drink some alcohol? That'll get rid of a baby, right?

Those thoughts, those dirty, putrid thoughts. What was he thinking? He was disgusted in himself but he couldn't help it, he was panicking.

He couldn't be a father, he was not made to be a father. What if he turned into him? What if he were to.. god forbid it, lay his hands on the babe? He was a dangerous individual, why should the softness of a baby stop him?

Perhaps it was because it were.. his baby. A life growing inside of... you.

"I can't do it."

He admitted.

"I am not fit to be- I CANNOT be- Our life- What we do- No, no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I love you but-"

He was rambling. He was afraid, he couldn't bare to look at you because what if he were to suddenly lay a hand on you?

Sitting down with Toby and talking to him was the best option. To clear your minds, to form a plan - to figure out what to do and whether you both wanted this baby.

Toby was honest, so brutally honest that frankly it made you burst into tears.

"It's not that I don't want it- it's that I-.. I can't."

His words hurt so much but he promised he'd be there to help you each step of the way. Fuck, he'd even get Jack in an attempt to try and help with the termination.

But word travelled fast and it sure travelled quick.

Slender's rage was not shouting or screaming; it was the eerie silence or disappointing faceless stare he would give you. It was the nausea that followed, the anxiety that riddled itself in your blood stream.

And just like that, Toby's whole life was gone. You had just.. simply disappeared. And it killed him, the unknowing of what happened to you. It killed him to think that he could've possibly killed you.

But you were not dead. Slender had come to an... agreement.

You were to stay a proxy but you were to terminate the child and with that, he sent you on the other side of the forest. In a cabin, alone and to deal with your emotions.

Jack had came to aid you with the termination.

But something inside of you told you that.. you wanted this child. That perhaps this child was a chance of hope, of normality. That maybe you could escape.

And you hated to bare such a burden on a child that was not yet born.

It took a lot of convincing from Jack, a lot of persuasion to keep the baby and to do regular visits to ensure it was growing healthy. You were to birth the baby alone, for Jack couldn't risk getting caught. But he taught you well, how to handle it and of course gave you lots of books.

It was risky, going against Slender. He would know something was up, especially since you had not come back as quickly as he had expected.

So Jack lied for you, he hated it but did it nevertheless. What was he going to lose?

He told Slender you were in a coma and that he needed to do regular checks to ensure you were alive.

Slender wouldn't know, fuck, Slender wasn't human - so the lie worked perfectly.

The pregnancy was rough. Unwelcoming. You vomited everything up, you were unable to gather firewood due to the fatigue - so on most nights you would be freezing alone.

A part of you didn't expect the baby to survive. That you would miscarriage.

But weeks slogged into months and you were bursting.

And you had to do this alone.

You didn't count how long you were in labour for, but it felt like for days.

So much blood, that something was wrong and you just knew it.

But you pushed through, with each book Jack had given you being an aid.

The baby was born during the night.

And she did not cry. Nor weep, nor whine.

Your heart dropped.

You were slumped on the cabin floor, blood pooling around your thighs and knees as you doubled over. There, on the towels beneath you, were the child. Pale, small.

If it weren't for the shock, you would've moved instantly. But you couldn't. All you could do was watch in disbelief, your head glazed in sweat.

But motherly instincts kicked in quick.

And you reached for the scissors, cutting the cord and making haste to save your daughters life.

Your daughter. A girl. You had no idea what the gender were but it were evident as you helplessly rubbed the babes back, hoping to clear some airways to hear that cry.

Relief washed over you, a cry that would've seen irritating for some; music to your ears.

You had a daughter - she was alive!

It took Jack a couple months until he passed by again, he was on his rounds locally and knew he needed to check up on you. A part of him expected to find you dead and half of him prepared himself to the smell of death as he itched closer toward the cabin. The smell of the rotting corpse either being you, the child or both.

But there was a new smell. A sweeter smell.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised when he discovered the cooing child in your arms but he were.

You had named her Lyla.

And you ached for Toby.

Jack couldn't vouch for the coma lie anymore and he knew that soon you were to be caught.

So, he did what he thought were best. He dragged Toby's sorry ass here. And it took a lot of convincing.

Toby succumbing to depression at the idea of losing you. Spending most days in bed, grieving.

So, when he walked into the cabin, he quite literally dropped to his knees, it was like everything inside him had been healed.

"You're alive-?!" Toby choked out. A part of him believed he were dreaming. His eyes scanned every fibre of your being, your hair, eyes, lips and.. the baby in your arms. His mouth hung agape and you couldn't help the stream of tears that came flooding down your cheeks. The brunette couldn't lie, he couldn't say that you looked well because you didn't. You looked.. so hungry, so weak and yet this beautiful child looked so healthy. "You- is that- am I?" All you could do was nod to his words as you approached him, Toby barely able to find the courage to look at the child in your arms. No, he had to make sure you were real first. His hand reached out, fingertips barely grazing over your cheekbones and there he smashed his lips against your own.

It took a lot of explaining and Toby was.. well, in shock for an hour or two as he tried to come to terms with it all. The idea that you did this.. alone. That you carried this child alone for months, that you gave birth alone. He should've been there, he would've been in a heartbeat!

But that voice in the back of his head reminded him of the words he spoke to you on the day that you announced you were pregnant. Oh, how they were not true.

Because as soon as he glanced at the baby, he knew in that moment that he wanted to be.. a father. Well, he wanted to try.

"She's beautiful.." he whispered, voice hoarse as he fought back the lump in his throat. Toby reached out but stopped himself. What if even a mere touch would make the baby disappear? What if.. somehow, he hurt her?! His expression pained as he hesitated, between wanting to love but being too afraid to do so. The both of you exchanged glances, your own look encouraging him silently. You trusted Toby, despite his nature, despite what he does; you knew he would never hurt her. And you relayed those very thoughts with a look alone as you gently urged the little bundle toward him. Toby wanted to decline but slowly, he took the baby within his own arms. He was awkward, freezing and sitting as still as he could, like she were made out of glass. It made you laugh. "You're not going to hurt her," you reassured with words this time. "But what if the day comes that I do?"

When Toby found out his daughters name were Lyla, he broke down into tears. He was crying so much that he kept calling himself 'such a little bitch' between each sob.

It was pretty funny.

But you didn't laugh, you just rubbed his shoulder reassuringly as he sobbed tears over his daughter.

Which prompted Lyla to whine softly.

And then Toby cried more because he thought he hurt her. Shit, this man was more hormonal than you were.

It took Toby many weeks to adjust to this new lifestyle and he tried his best to form a bond with his daughter. You had the pleasure of nine months to form a bond, Toby had no time to prepare at all.

But it was hard because every time he looked at her, his heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

She was too perfect, too beautiful and anxiety consumed him at the thought of losing her. He had just got you back!

And you were the two girls in his life he loved ever so dearly.

So, he insisted that he looked after her more. Despite the fact that every time he held her, he wanted to fucking die. He was too damn anxious for this shit.

Admittedly, as weeks turned into months, you were thankful for Toby's willingness to parent more often.

But it was hard at the start

It seemed Lyla hated Toby and it frustrated Toby each time she would cry whenever she were in his arms

She was clingy, and you understood both of their emotions.

So when Lyla was asleep, Toby would feel his emotions get the better of him too. He would be angry, but his anger turned more into sadness as he stormed off into the wilderness for some alone time.

And this happened often. Toby needed time and you understood this, a part of you feeling guilty for thrusting this parent role upon him so suddenly - especially after he expressed his discomfort with the idea of being a father.

But it was still early days.

And you were unsure on what happened that particular night but when Toby came back from his usual walks, he was a different man.

And when he gently scooped Lyla up into his arms, it seemed she noticed that too.

Perhaps it was the confidence? Or how calm he appeared?

Whatever it was, it seemed now they were inseparable.

The love in his gaze as he rocked Lyla gently in his arms, like he was holding his entire world and nothing was going to take that away from him.

Well, that was until Slender found out.

And it turned into a literal shit show.

The way Jack came storming into the cabin, bursting your little bubble you had created, your idea of a happy, normal family disappearing as quickly as you had dreamt it.

The panic on Toby's face as he knew.

And you knew.

You expected worse, but Slender was... forgiving.

You were unsure what was said, whether Jack had swayed his mind or perhaps if Toby promised some unspoken promise.

But the cabin you had given birth in was to become your home.

On one condition.

You were banished. No, you would not go back to society - especially not after the things you know and had seen, but you were to stay here until your death. Which would not be a peaceful death, but that day would come. For now, Lyla was fine and despite your worry about her future; Slender agreed that she would be fine.

You did not trust the entity's words. But you were thankful nevertheless.

"How the hell did you get so big?!" You heard Toby yell from the living room, Lyla's giggles followed. From the corner of your eye, Toby spun her around in the space of the living room. There was no denying that the scene warmed your heart, but also made you chew the bottom of your lip anxiously.

Toby always said that you worried about her too much and maybe you did, but fucking hell... if her ankle caught the table or her head on the wall! Rushing over, you quickly waved your arms out. "Whoaa, okay, hold on- she's gonna hurt herself or get sick-!" you quickly spoke, trying to pitch your voice a little louder than Lyla's giggles. Toby stopped momentarily, Lyla in his arms and he looked at you with a questioning look. "She's fine, see?" Toby held her out and she flopped in his arms, almost looking as if she were about to drop on the floor and instinctively you threw your hands out to catch her. The brunette could only chuckle as he bundled her up close to his chest. "You worry too much." Those same words again and you rolled your eyes, a soft crinkle of irritation evident in your brow. Lyla was.. fine and perhaps you did worry too much, but Toby didn't really understand the concept of.. gentle playing. Like the times he'd throw her in the air, it make you wanna vomit at the idea of her hitting her head on the roof, or god forbid - he drops her. She was too little for this roughness and deep down, she'd always be your little baby. But Lyla was nearly two and it broke your heart to admit that, as much as you enjoy watching her grow.

And she preferred playing with Toby than with you. Mostly because she was a carbon copy of Toby himself. From the nose to the hair colour. She had your eyes though, so screw you Toby.

Toby became the very man he promised himself he would become, the very father he wished he had himself.

Loving and caring. Lyla was most certainly Daddy's little girl and Toby wore that badge with pride.

If it weren't for the circumstances and for the fact that Toby does not own a wallet he'd have little pictures of his daughter nestled away inside the pocket of his wallet.

Despite the bumpy start, Lyla couldn't get enough of Toby and he ensured that every night he'd read her a bedtime story. He'd even fall asleep himself sometimes just beside her bed, other nights just wanting to sit close in case something were to happen.

Admittedly, a part of you worried that Toby was.. too attached to her.

But whenever they were together, Toby was healing something inside of him that he thought could never be healed.

And essentially, he was living a childhood he had always wished for through his own daughter.

Eventually, Lyla blossomed into a teenager and it was.... hell.

"I fucking hate this cabin, I hate being here! Why can't we be normal! What's with all this off the grid shit!" The voice yelled from down the hall. Oh, she wasn't wrong, Lyla had every right to be pissed but having to live with an angsty teenager that hated everyone and everything was a lot worse.

And Toby never, NEVER, did the punishments.

Just... strict words.

No, he couldn't trust himself, so let you deal with it.

But at times he would find himself taking Lyla outside for a walk to talk to her. To let her know that he was there if she wanted to talk.

And yes, Toby does 100% sneak her out to go to the nearest town.

All in all, Toby would be, against all odds, the best father he could offer. Though I do see him not wanting kids at all. I also HC that all the proxies are infertile anyway.

But if it were to play out, it'd probably be something like this. Toby would be the cool dad where you could just about get away with some stuff. Toby would also be one of those guys where he claims he hates the cat kid and then forms such a close bond with the cat kid.

Oh, and is this man protective of his children too. !

Very much refers to his children as 'sperm pet.' Or he pulls a Kratos and he's kinda like 'get 'ere, boy/girl.'

I RAMBLED TOO MUCH

I feel like I didn't really answer your question

I'm sorry. I will write more about this in the future though.