#this is really really general ummm sorry

[picusviridis]

Whats cosmodex? Saw your art and I want to know more about it

Ooooook so the Cosmosdex is this site ( https://cosmosdex.com ) which as a WHOLE is a "fictional space themed encyclopaedia by the same name that contains pages upon pages of lore, aliens, planets, and just about anything you could ever want to know about this expansive universe." (from the site) and it's true! there's ~300 species alone in the cosmosdex, & they're all completely open. Plus there's like... these things called eyegrets... which are THE best fauna. Btw. look at ONE amazing. one. i could talk about these animals all day i tell you

+ though if you wanna know MORE about the universe itself there's a webcomic on there, Fortuna, which serves as a pretty good introduction to the lore +some good simpler entries: -aftik -arma -kuppas there's also notails but notails have a whole lore section so it can seem a bit overwhelming? they're not THAT complicated though

anyway everything I post about in relation to Cosmosdex is related to my OWN little sub-universe Get To Heaven. In super duper short it's a universe where everything is.........horrible and everyone is based on a song :-) Something something capitalism something something.......listen to GET TO HEAVEN (ALBUM) BY EVERYTHING EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OK!!!!!!!!! and the rest of everything everything. while you are at it.

and leaving with the get to heaven banner cos i think it's just awesome... (I HOPE THIS IS SATISFACTORY.)

[downsteepy]

Hi! Any props on drawing chest hairs?

put this together very quickly but i included both ways that i do it ! i do typically just use a body hair brush to save time [ here are some free alternatives on the csp asset store , other programs i have no idea, but it is pretty simple to make your own brushes as well :) ] but i still manually draw it on paper or if i draw chibis !

[walterdecourceys]

bought another copy of frankenstein. i can make responsible decisions with my money

[silverwindptv]

.

[torchtour]

Hi hello I love your Euclidian designs could you explain their anatomy

tysm!! here's some bullshit biology. if i spelled anything wrong. um. i didnt

transcription (since my colors/handwriting are whack) and elaboration below cut hehe

"cellulose microfibril bricks, colored by carotenoid pigment (xanthophyll)" they help maintain the shape of the cell/provide structural integrity to an overall squishy organism. the pigment xanthophyll is yellow (because. bill. yellow) and facilitates photosynthesis yay solar power. the nature of bill's mutation includes a full wall of this shit covering his whole body like a carapace

""brain"/ganglia" very rudimentary nervous system that's just a bundle of nerves hooked up to the eyes. important to note that the nerves are robust and mobile like electrical wires so don't mind being jostled by eye movement

"cilia assist in movement and sensing" leeetle hairs that aren't hairs at all but microtubules coated by the plasma membrane. kinda like whiskers/barbels but used for swimming

"double membrane (two phospholipid bilayers), pseudopods made of actin filaments and filled with cytoplasm" and also "pseudopods are mobile and variable (stretchy) the gripperssssssss if you wanna see some epic pseudopod action just look up amoeba hunting on youtube

"eyelids and "lashes"/teeth" the retractable sheathes that cover the eye have scutes that can flex and poke out as a sorta velcro-y set of teeth and manipulate objects

"mitochondrial pump" i'm sorry to say i didn't actually have an idea of what this organ was when i drew the first drawing don't tell anyone but i make shit up as i go along ummm but now it's the pseudo-heart organelle that generates atp (mitochondria) and circulates shit 'round the body (pump)

"2D eyes can perceive color, brightness, and a single layer/line of depth" so these basically work how the eyes work in flatland where euclideans can only see an infinitely thin plane of color and shadow

"reproductive organs and gametes" my euclideans have external fertilization where a pair (any pair works cuz they all have the same haploid gams) just mush together their gametes to make a baby love wins i didn't really think this through shhh i just cant imagine these things fucking im sorry they're too weird maybe the foreplay goes crazy idk

that's basically it uhm i labeled each shape as "cuboidal", "triangular", and "circular" and then that "circles are (superficially) bilaterally symmetrical" cuz they only got the one eye oh and the circular one is labeled as "juvenile has no compartment for reproductive organs" cuz why not ok bye

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Amajiki Tamaki

A/n: so sorry this took so long! I had a good thing going but my power went out and it got erased </3

I do think this one's better though. Technically this is the third legitimate try <33

Edit: I'm trying out a new format for my info.. is it better or worse O.o

General info:

Wc: 1,176 words | angst to fluff/comfort | Character/s: Tamaki Amajiki

Warnings!: loneliness, snapping, flinching, a little bit of crying. Please let me know if I miss any! <3

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

The night was cold as you sleepily flipped through your journal, not wanting to write but knowing you should. The entries from the last three months have been short and filled with a dull ache of lonliness. They lacked the usual length and warmth you poured into the pages, ranting on about how sweet your timid Tamaki is and how much you adore him and his ever lasting warmth.

The rambling would go on and on, but now you wrote a paragraph or two about how your life has been 'fine' and that Tamaki has been super busy- if you wrote at all.

There was one or two that held multiple paragraphs of your frustration and not knowing who to blame- knowing that it wasn't Tamaki's fault that there weren't enough heroes to protect the innocent of your large city.

Tamaki was doing his best to protect the defenseless, and you admired that- but the dull ache that sat in the pit of your stomache couldn't go ignored much longer.

Sighing, you closed your journal, standing up from your desk to head to the living room, deciding to talk to Tamaki tonight.

~~

Four hours later Tamaki walked through the front door, tall form drained from exhaustion as he made his way inside, already stripping off his hero gear.

"Tama?" You call, poking your head out from the living room to sadly smile at your Tamaki.

"Oh. Hey y/n." Tamaki yawned, dropping both his cape and mask onto the floor as he dragged his feet towards your room, tossing his belt onto the kitchen table before moving onto taking off his gear further.

"Wait, Tamaki!" You call, stopping at the bottom of the stairs as Tamaki paused, looking back at you.

"Yes bunny?"

"Ummm.. can we talk?" You ask, smiling at the nickname Tamaki gave you the first week into your marriage- though he later admitted that he thought of it when you two were simply friends but was too shy up until that point-.

"Baby, I'm really tired.. is it important?"

"Yes.. it'll only take five to ten mintues."

"Okay baby, where do you want to talk?" Tamaki yawned.

"How about the living room? I can give you a shoulder massage while we talk if you like." You smile, causing Tamaki's eyes to shine as he smiled down at you.

"I'd like that."

~

After you were both situated you started by squirting some lotion on your hands before spreading it onto Tamaki's left shoulder, immediately noticing his many knots.

"Okay bunny, what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh.. so I know that you're working really hard and are really tired.. and I also know that we haven't had us time in a while.. so I was wondering if you could take a day or two off? Not much, just a day or two would be fine."

Tamaki was silent as you bit your lip in anticipation, hoping you didn't upset him somehow.

"Y/n.. are you serious?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you know how many people might be dying right now? I can't just laze about spending time with you because you're feeling lonely. Why don't you go hang out with some friends?"

"T-that's not the same.."

"How so?"

"I want to spend time with you Tamaki. You know, my husband?" You scoff, starting to get annoyed.

"And I want to spend time saving people y/n, why don't you stop being sensitve and start thinking about other people?"

"But I've been holding my feelings back for months! Please! I'm just asking for a day- even a few hours is fine!"

"Y/n. No. Now if you're done I'd like to get to bed."

Jerking his shoulder away from your touch, Tamaki started standing up.

"But wait Tama-"

"No. I'm disappointed in your selfishness y/n."

"Wai-"

"Stop."

"Pl-"

"I said stop!" Tamaki hissed, turning around to face you within a second.

At the sudden movement and change of tone you flinched back, tears gathering in your eyes as you stared up at Tamaki, eyes wide.

As Tamaki glared down at you he froze as you flinched, heart immediately breaking as he saw the tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Y-y-y/n I-"

"I-it's okay Tamaki.. you don't need to say anything. I get it. I-I'll just go to bed now."

"B-but y-y/n.." Tamaki whimpered, guilt consuming him as he watched you walk away.

"Y-y/n.. I'm sorry.."

~

You quickly got in bed after hurrying up the stairs, wiping at your eyes as you clung to your pillow, staying as far away from Tamaki's side as possible.

~~

You awoke the next morning to the sun shining in your eyes.

Wincing, you turned around to feel for Tamaki, forgetting all about last night and the dreadful few months.

After feeling how cold Tamaki's side of the bed you sighed, memories coming to you in flashes as you stared at his side of the bed.

Wiping away the stray tears, you got out to get ready for a day worse than the one yesterday.

After getting dressed you made your way down stairs, deciding to get on top of your piling to-do list to help get your mind off of Tamaki.

Stepping into the kitchen, you stepped back at the sight of a lavish breakfast filled with all of your favorites spread across the newly cleaned kitchen table.

"T-Tamaki.." you whimper, looking at your beloved with tearful eyes as he guilty studied you with his indigo orbs.

"Y-y/n I-"

You interrupted Tamaki as you rushed into his arms, clutching the back of his shirt, desperate for comfort from the man you've grown to adore.

"Y/n I- I'm so so sorry." Tamaki mumbled, burying his face into your hair to mask the tears falling from his eyes.

"I forgive you Tamaki, I know you were just over worked and didn't mean to take it out on me."

"I promise you- I really didn't me an to, a-and I feel terrible about it."

"Shhh it's okay baby.. I already forgave you. We just need to reflect on what we did wrong tonight and make sure not to do it in the future. Next time, I'll wait until you're less exhausted, and you'll make sure to remind me that you're too tired, mkay?"

"O-okay.."

"Now baby.. why are you home? Don't you have work?"

"Nope, I took the next two weeks and a half off. I know that it won't make up for the months of loneliness, but I'll try to be better, I"ll take less shifts and make sure to only leave for emergencies when I'm off the clock.

"Alright, that's a good start."

"I may need today and possibly tomorrow to sleep.. but I cleaned the entire house -besides our room- and looked at your to- do list and did a few of the bigger things on there.. oh and I made us breakfast.."

"Tamaki. I love you. So, so much."

"I love you too bunny. I'm really rea-"

"Shh, I already said I forgive you. Now, let's eat!"

~~~

Series' masterlist | Tamaki's masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Reblogs help spread and support my work, therefore they help me immensely but any support is appreciated <33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way minus reblogging.

[forsworned]

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't. 

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night. 

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

[peppermint-toads]

ghost dealing with his pregnant southern wife’s cravings (aka you introduce simon to tomato mayo sandwiches). tw: pregnancy, a little smut, eating/food, a little vomiting. i didn’t proof read this

ghost loved coming home to you after tedious days doing paperwork on base.

whatever you were going, he’d wrap his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head and sighing. he probably smelled like man. gross, sweaty man, but you never commented on it.

when you fell pregnant he loved holding you like that even more, seeing your belly start to poke out as he gazed downward.

one night, he came home to you standing in front of the kitchen counter, arm gently sawing back and forth as you sliced a tomato.

he took his normal position, humming and closing his eyes. when he opened them again, he took in the scene in front of him.

“what is this, love?”

never did he expect you to cook for him, especially when you became pregnant. but maybe every once in a while when he came home particularly starving, he’d steal a bite or two of whatever you were making.

but lately, your meals had gotten a bit strange.

and really, it was his own fault. as soon as you’d so much as hinted at wanting to have simon’s kid, he had you anchored down to the hilt of him as he stuffed you with his cum.

“it’s ummm, tomatoes and sourdough, and mayo.”

you tilted your head back to look at him.

“that’s it?”

you shook your head, hair going staticky on his t-shit.

“salt and pepper, too.”

you watched as his face pinched into a grimace.

“hey!” you scowled. “don’t look at me like that mister beans on toast.”

you turned fully, playfully shoving his chest.

“used to eat this all the time as a kid. everybody kinda did.”

simon cracked as he saw embarrassment creep onto your features, like he’d made you feel gross for craving it.

you were often victim of trying new british “delicacies,” so it was only fair that he return the favor.

“alright, i’ll try one.” he shrugged.

he offered to help, but as always you refuse it. he watched as you slathered a generous layer of mayo onto each side of the bread, setting thick slices of tomato on top, and finishing it with enough pepper to make simon sneeze.

he winced when you handed him his plate, and you were suddenly nervous.

“it might not be that good, tomatoes being out of season and all.”

you both tuck into your sandwiches once settled on the couch, your preferred spot these days.

simon was pleasantly surprised. maybe a little too much mayo, but he was delighted.

you on the other hand, were gagging after taking a bite. it had you making a haste exit for the bathroom, where you found a familiar place on the floor, heaving into the toilet.

when you returned to the living room, sheepish, simon had discarded any evidence of the sandwiches and had put a pot of water on the stove to boil for plain noodles, one of the only things you could stomach recently.

“sorry si, i didn’t mean for that to happen. it’s just—”

you began to choke, suddenly overcome by emotion. he pulled you in tight, your face pressing into his shirt.

“i know love, i know.”

his hand smoothed up and down your back steadily until he felt your breathing return to normal and heard your sniffling stop.

“why don’t you find a movie, and i’ll finish up in here.” he nodded towards the kitchen

you did, finding a movie both of you would like, even though simon never really watched the screen anymore. he was too focused on you, watching your little belly rise and fall with every breath.

[thighguys]

Phan Fic Recs #3!!

here is the requested long fic list! these are all 100k+, not all of them are finished (i didn't put any on here that aren't actively updating tho) and all of them are SO good so i hope you enjoy :)

Silver Arrows To The Heart by @evermorepeyton (137k WIP)- this one is a duplicate from the other list but there might be a few on here, ignore that<3 anyway this fic is AMAZING!!! dan and phil formula 1 drivers au- they're both on Mercedes and lots of awesome teammates to lovers hijinks ensue<3 this one gets a special shoutout for having some fantastic female characters (who are dare i say just as intriguing as dnp themselves?) and also bc the author is a beautiful human who i love<3 a super fun fic and very in character for both of them (somehow lmao, you wouldnt expect it with racecar drivers but somehow it works so well)

dancing on the blades (you set my heart on fire) by kishere (123k)- imagine all the 2009 phan lore but if dan and phil were figure skaters. yep, it's a yuri on ice au where dan scores a spot in the famous Lester training gym and meets phil, who is one of the most well known figure skaters in england<3 fantastic fantastic fic, such perfect vibes and lots of great lester family cameos<3

Strictly Come Dancing but make it GAY! by @natigail (176k)- the final duplicate from the medium list<3 this fic is AMAZING!!!! this is the one that got me back into phanfic in general afterhaving not read any for about 6 years, it's a strictly come dancing au where phil is a hot pro dancer and dan is a celebrity/gay activist, and they accidentally become the first gay couple to compete in scd<3 FANTASTIC outfit and dance descriptions, i listened to all the songs while reading it and it was honestly so lovely i felt like i could see it so clearly<3 also- the lore references are AMAZING lol i felt like a pro every time i found a little easter egg. amazing fic, i HIGHLY recommend it<3

A Semester Abroad by @everything-is-as-it-was (162k WIP)- this one is really fun!! lots of domestic phouse vibes as it is about an american college student who gets stranded in England after a study abroad housing situation falls through and who gets accidentally taken in by these two random british guys with a REALLY weird house... sooo funny, it's really quite cute and i highly recommend giving it a read! I love outsider pov and this has an abundance of funny moments because dnp are Weird

Broke, Gay and New in Town by @natigail (347k)- do you want the softest, cutest, most magical and compelling story to ever exist??? literally look no further because right here is the dan and phil stardew valley au and it is SO CUTE!!! dan inherits a farm from his grandfather and decides to ditch his boring life to go and run it, and he has so many adventures along the way. oh yeah phil is there too and hes SO CUTE and they fall in love :3 seriously so cute, also you don't need stardew valley knowledge to enjoy this it is independently perfect (i have never played the game and actually learned what it was From this fic so ur good lol)

linger on by dizzy, waveydnp (184k)- this one is so so so sweet... non youtuber au where 33yo phil has been living with his parents, but when his dad dies his mom decides to sell the house and phil has to find somewhere new to live. so ofc he becomes roommates with some guy called dan, and ummm they fall in love? honestly they are SO perfect in this fic, i adore it<3 highly recommend

L'Histoire Française by danfanciesphil (105k)- suuuuper fun teachers au! phil is a history professor and dan is his TA. this fic is SO FUN!!!! genuinely adore it lol, it's one of the first phan fics i ever read and it has stayed with me forever<3

So Many Stars by transdimensional_void (152k)- another teachers au :) dnp meet when they both become english teachers at a school in japan and this is VERY cute <3

okay there's the list!! sorry this one is shorter than the others haha, there are too few long fics in the phandom :( but all of these are so so lovely and i hope you enjoy! lol some distractions may be needed during these trying times <3

[umahumahumah]

Imma need pt 2 of how to draw in Hima's art style the hair is killing me

i've been procrastinating about it for a while, especially since i've been trying to find a way to actually explain it. but anyways it's here now, don't worry!

(again i am just a weeb not a professional teacher so some explanations may be vague, confusing, or wrong. feel free to send an ask or comment if youre confused and i'll try to explain to the best of my ability)

himastyle tutorial! (the better one) part 2 (link to part 1 here)

so continuing off from the last post...

HAIR

hair is a little hard to explain because there's simply so many ways you can do it

first off, don't draw hair directly on top of the head! there should be a little bit of space between the head and the hair. but be careful to not make the space between them too wide or else thehair will just look really big.

if you're wondering how wide the space should be, it should be somewhat similar to the photo below.

i noticed that himastyle hair (and tbh himastyle objects in general but we'll get into that later) is comprised of two types of lines

the subtler lines can usually be found in the following areas:

-the ends of the hair -where a lot of hair is bunched up (tied into a ponytail, etc) -where hair is slicked back -the hairline

of course you can bend these rules depending on the character you're drawing but if you want to play it safe just stick to these general guidelines.

also if you want to draw one of hima's characters it might be better to just directly reference their hair from his art.

BONUS HAIR STUFF:

i've seen a lot of fanartists mention germany's hair being hard to draw. honestly.. yeah, i really struggled with slicked-back hairstyles like his back when then. which is why i created this guide that gives him the most 100% perfect hair everytime you draw him, trust, trust!

stay tuned for next time where i cover bodies, clothes, and other stuff! ummm... which will probably be in a few months tbh. sorry, i am very slow with this stuff ;D

[loquarocoeur]

question as charles says in chapter 2 of yours "h but they’re constantly fucking, I swear. In his bedroom in our mother’s house, can you believe it? We share a wall. He knows that.”

and if i remember correctly they ( as in charles and max) do eventully fuck in charles mother house

Will there a: ever be a fic of that?? and b: do these guys like the chancec of being caugth? have they ever been caught by someone? like family? and what were their reaction?? did it turn one of them on that someone (Max) cant keep his mouth shut due to charles and his dick? SOrry for all the ask i am just in love with your writing and i am trying to find fics that are as good as yours(hahah lol) are when it comes to both the balance of smut and fluff and lestappen in general❤️❤️❤️❤️

Mm idk if there will be a fic..

But I think they definitely have a thing for that someone might catch them, but as for actually being caught? Ummm no...

Like I think that time they did end up doing it in Charles' mom's just started out as them both genuinely thinking it'll be fine and they won't be that loud and then Max just cannot shut up, and I mean for Charles it's hard, but he can keep quiet, but Max is just not managing to and Charles keeps teasing him about how if he can't keep quiet, someone might come to check who's dying and catch them (they wouldn't, the door is locked)

But then Max like seriously cannot keep quiet to the point that Charles actually needs to put a hand over his mouth and it's still noisy, but he keeps teasing Max about it and Max keeps being turned on about it and yes Charles absolutely loves how much Max cannot shut up, it's very good for his ego so they just kind of keep going

And then Arthur is banging very pointedly on that wall that they share

And Max absolutely murders Charles.

Arthur obviously tells everyone immediately and I think Charles thought that he doesn't really care what other people think about his sex life, but I do think he is a little weirded out by his mother knowing they had sex in her house and if it's anyone else he gets a bit possessive thinking of them thinking about Max getting fucked (which they literally never are, they think Max is the top and Charles just never corrects them)

Meanwhile Max is actually just dying the whole time avoiding any conversation about it whatsoever (contemplating strangling charles)

But I definitely think they have been caught once or twice in each other's driver rooms or by housekeeping on holiday and such or just by Daniel coming in with his spare keys unannounced shortly after Charles moves in, which never happens again because there is lots of screeching and pillow throwing involved.

But just to clarify, I honestly don't think Max is embarrassed to be caught like not being the top or anything, I think he's just very private about actual sex just over all even though he makes a lot of jokes around the topic, just never about his actual sex life which is between him, Charles, and his google search history (and maybe a doctor when charles inevitably gets his dick stuck in plaster trying to make a diy silicone replica of his dick)

(and maybe Max is also just a little possessive of who gets to see Charles naked and hot and sweaty with his hair messy from Max's fingers because that's his Charles)

But honestly I think whenever somebody is to blame for them being caught, it is in fact Charles' fault, every single time, and he apologises profusely in between Max smacking him on the head with a pillow and plies him with kinder chocolates and kebabs, offers to lose at any video game Max chooses, tickets to football games etc.

And don't be sorry!!���❤️❤️ Thank you so much🥹❤️

[karabin4ik]

AU where Jeeves and Bertie have known each other since childhood. First meeting at a boarding school for boys, where Bertie studies and Reggie works. (They are about the same age)

(I wrote everything through a translator, so forgive me if there is strange text in some places)

While all the students are running away for lunch, Jeeves slips into the empty courtyard with a little book. And so, approaching a spreading tree that is popular with some groups of boys, he notices a curly-haired young man hanging upside down.

The suspended boy clung to the ropes and his bound legs, and his face was red from the blood rushing to his head. He didn’t call for help, he just groaned and cursed in words that were understandable to a boarding school student at that time.

Reggie didn't deliberately try to walk silently, but it just so happened that the curly-haired boy didn't notice him until the very moment Jeeves stood two steps away from the bound one. Only fragments of phrases, for unknown reasons, including “holy ducklings” reached the ears, until the student finally noticed him.

In the seconds during which he focused his gaze behind Jeeves, the boy’s face brightened and became radiantly sunny.

- Hey fellow! - the boy exclaimed cheerfully, not forgetting to wave his hand casually.

Jeeves still watched silently, for the sake of decency he only closed the book. Raising his head, he began to examine the ropes that tied the boy’s legs.

- How are you doing? why aren't you at lunch? - the curly haired boy did not let up. Meanwhile, his face became even more bloodshot, which looked extremely unhealthy. - I haven't seen you among the classes before, you know!

Having walked around him in a circle, during which the student tried to follow Reggie with his gaze, he raised an eyebrow questioningly:

- Do you need help? - He asked.

The boy's face took on the appearance of a disoriented hare for a second, after which he looked up at his bound limbs for a few seconds. After that, he made an overly serene sound like "Hah" with a slight wave of his hand.

- Oh, are you talking about this? Well, it's not that I really need help, I'm just... hanging my jaw, you know. Useful stretching, otherwise I missed my morning exercises. - He smiled, but it was clear that this was becoming more and more difficult for him.

Jeeves looked incredulously from the acquaintance's ankles tied to the branch to his face, which was beginning to merge with his reddish curls. It seems he heard somewhere about red bats...what were they called...? And this bat, meanwhile, told that he was studying here, like his friends, who, by an incredibly funny coincidence, became the organizers of his upside-down pastime.

- Ducklings! Sorry, we don’t even know each other! - He shook off his hands and extended his palm to his interlocutor (if you can call a person who uttered just one phrase an interlocutor) - My name is Bertie!

Reggie glanced at his hand, then turned around to put the book aside. Then he returned the handshake in the same way, nevertheless looking somewhere upward:

- Reginald Jeeves. I work here, so you haven't seen me in classes.

Bertie had already stopped shaking his hand, but his new acquaintance still did not let go. Wooster looked a little nervously into the blue eyes opposite him and coughed awkwardly.

- Ummm heey buddy, nice to meet you and all that... Could you...

Reginald raised his eyebrows slightly, but his face did not look arrogant, rather as if he suddenly saw a large dragonfly on Bertie’s nose.

- Excuse me, but how long have you been hanging here?

Bertie made a thoughtful face, at the same moment he never stopped trying to unobtrusively stick his hand out of Reggie's hand. The whole thing swayed slightly from side to side, reminiscent of a metronome from a music cabinet.

- I don’t know, it must have been since my comrades ran away to fill their bellies. Add a couple more minutes that we laughed together and I tried to pull myself up for an argument... in general, about 10 minutes I think

Jeeves shook his head in displeasure. Bertie didn’t even have time to begin to be indignant when he, grabbing Wooster’s hand tightly, pulled himself up on his toes and pulled the ends of the ropes a couple of times. Those (ropes) quickly began to chatter and immediately unraveled, causing Bertie to fall down. If it weren’t for the clutch obligingly clinging to him, Wooster would definitely have kissed the ground in a completely unknightly manner.

- Whoa! - Bertie grabbed the clothes of his liberator with a breath - T-thank you very much, buddy! It’s a pity, of course, to interrupt the training, you know, but I don’t think I’ve thought through the landing at all... You’re really my savior.

Reginald let go of his hand, but not so quickly that Bertie immediately fell. His new acquaintance laughed a little more in between jumping on one leg or the other, trying to get out of the ropes. Having picked up the book, Jeeves turned around so that he could now see Bertie from a normal perspective. A curly-haired, smiling boy with big blue eyes radiated some kind of inexpressible summer lightness and perkiness. Judging by his stories, he has friends, so why did they leave him in such limbo? Apparently, something related to gambling.

- No need for gratitude, just be careful: staying upside down for a long time can be very dangerous.

Throwing away the last curl of the vine that bound him, Bertie straightened up and clumsily placed his hands on his hips. He was still a little unsteady, but stood firmly on his feet. He didn’t even shake himself off after the fall, so dust and grass remained on his trouser legs. Jeeves grimaced for a second when he looked at this, but he could not fully understand what was the matter. Looking at Reggie, Bertram gradually smiled more and more until he finally laughed. Jeeves also involuntarily broke into a smile.

- Hahaha! Listen, ammm.. Jeeves, would you like...

But then Bertie was interrupted by the sonorous voice of a boy from the side of the building. With black, styled hair and glasses with large eyepieces, he ran towards them waving one hand and holding a small purse slung over his shoulder with the other. An elderly woman in a strict dark dress walked quickly and briskly behind him. With this motley duet, the Bertie recognized his classmate Gussie and his teacher Miss A. It seems that he finally called for help, due to Bertie’s long absence.

- Bertie, Bertie! We're on our way! Sorry it took so long, I hid the tadpoles from Cheese, he would definitely try to throw them away, he always leaves the dining room before me to do this!

Miss A, meanwhile, did not lag behind, and her voice sounded even louder, spreading throughout the yard:

- Wooster! What have you done again, scoundrel? Why not at lunch, do you want to go without food for the coming day?

Bertie quickly turned to his new acquaintance, flashing a nervous smile to apologize for the inconvenience. However, neither behind nor in the area was there a single living soul, which is why the smile quickly faded, giving way to confusion. As if there was no blue-eyed silent savior. Honestly! Bertie checked behind the tree, looked around and even under his own sole!

Then Gussie ran up to him, clinging to his sleeve with his hand:

- Bertie, are you okay? You fell?

The teacher also walked under the shade of a tree, towering heavily over the boys and displeasedly looking around at the tree wrapped in ropes and the soiled clothes of the culprit of the rescue operation.

- Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, please tell me where you got the rope and why you made this display, including your inappropriate appearance?

Bertie stood for a while and looked at the place where he had recently been suspended like some caterpillar that at some point in its life realized that it wanted to learn to fly.

And then he turned to the teacher and absentmindedly began to explain how he wanted to weave a hammock by stealing ropes from the boarding house barn, simultaneously giving signs to Gussie to keep quiet about their friends.

[memoria-99]

I just realized the "Would you date them in real life" poll for IkeVil already ended.

I'm surprised it ended with 519 votes! (When I did the one for IkePri it was 401 votes within the same length of time)

And the result was:

Harrison 17.5% Ellis 12.7% Victor 12.3% Ring 12.1% William 11.4% Liam 10% Jude 8.9% Elbert 5.4% Roger 5.2% Alfons 2.3% Darius 1.3% Nica 0.8%

So here's my answer to "Would you date them?"

William: Yes, cuz he's super rich and could spoil me. I honestly don't think I could have a proper romance with a riddle generator, but being spoiled by a rich guy is nice anyway.

Harrison: I'm not very sure... I think yes. True, he lies a lot, but he's smart, and though he pretends he's not he's actually a very caring person. I like that. And I like reading detective stories too, so I could be his good reading partner.

Liam: Yes. Of course. This kitty boy is so precious and devoted. I'm sure he would do everything he could for me and would never make me cry, except when he's in self-deprecation mode. I would cuddle him and try my best to give him a reason to live.

Elbert: Ummm. No. I know he's precious. But I just think he would break at any moment... Plus, he barely eats anything. I love eating. I don't wanna be looked like a weirdo everytime I enjoy my meal. I want someone to eat together. And I don't wanna be taxidermized. I know I'm objectively less beautiful than him but he has a weird sense of judging beauty so...

Alfons: I may have a terrible taste in men, and I know someone like him is not the best choice I could take, but yes. Dating him actually sounds interesting. He acts very vague so I might fail to make a fine romance with him, but I won't regret trying.

Roger: I almost forgot him again. And my answer is no. He would be a good friend. I don't think of him as more than that.

Jude: Sorry, no. And this is mainly due to a personal reason; I really really hate the smell of cigarettes. Other than that, I think he's fine... maybe. If I could get used to his language and sadistic side, that is.

Ellis: First my answer was no, cuz he might kill me. In second thought, however, it changed to yes. Except the killing part he's a very sweet and devoting guy. And all I have to say is I'm not at my happiest yet.

Victor: Yes or no. Half half. He's cheerful, good cook, overall a nice boyfriend material, but for some reason he looks more like a good older brother to me.

Darius: ... Yes. Maybe I really do have a terrible taste in men after all. He's the only guy here I was attracted to at very first sight. I would gladly play milk puzzle with him.

Nica: He's attractive, and looks interesting, but... no. In real life I won't know if I'm just being one of his toys. And I don't want that.

Ring: Well, yes or no. He's a very good boy. A little too good perhaps. He's just too innocent and baby so I would even feel guilty for dating him. I think I'd prefer to keep him as a younger brother.

...

So it seems I would date most of them.

[b0g-b0y]

A Moth to a Flame

Ghost x M reader Requested @imcoughing

( Im sorry yall but I really didn't feel like writing the mission, I could do something like in DMZ but idk)

—---------------------------------------------------

Y/n and Ghost never really knew each other, besides the rare time they passed each other in the halls on base. They never did say a word to each other.

But like a moth to a flame, Y/n and Ghost ended up on the same mission. Ghost didn't think anything about it, why would he? And for Y/n he heard much about Ghost some good some bad, but at the end of the day, Ghost was just another guy to him.

—————-

The window is open crickets are like music to his ears, it's something Ghost could almost fall asleep to. Ghost lies down in his bed. He stares at the ceiling thinking about what happened today. About what happened during the mission, he nearly got shot but Y/n saved him from it. Ghost couldn't get Y/n's eyes out of his mind the look of general concern and worry that he saw in Y/ns eyes, made him feel a type of why. The way Y/n scanned the room before Y/n moved towards Ghost and checked to see if he was wounded, Y/ns touch was so gentle and caring. It almost reminded him of his mom. “ Bloody hell,” Ghost said to himself, before turning on his side to try and get some sleep.

Ghost craved more of that feeling, he wanted Y/n.

Ghost tried to talk to y/n whenever he saw the other man, but that never got far. Y/n made small conversation with Ghost to be polite, but Ghost could tell something was different it wasn't like before it was more distant. A feeling that Ghost knew too well.

-----------

Y/n stood outside early in the morning watching the sunrise. A friendly slap to his back got Y/n to look at who would do that, to no surprise it was Soap. “ Scared the shit out of Soap,” Y/n said. Soap let out a small chuckle.” Didn't think I would scare ye, lad. After all, you've been hanging around the Ghost a lot recently’ Soap said. Y/n couldn't help but let out a sigh.” Not really, don't know why he's been talking to me, it might be a stupid joke I don't know” Both Soap and Y/n looked at each other for a moment. It was silent.

“ I mean Soap he only really likes you and Price, he tolerates Gaz. He calls you Johnny which only Ghost can get away with. The both of you are almost like glue, so how could this not be a cruel joke? Do me a favor and tell Ghost to knock it off.” Y/n said. And at that moment soap looked at Y/n like he said the stupidest shit in the world. “ You're a fuckin idiot,” Soap said before giving a small slap to the back of Y/N's head. “ What the hell Soap?” Y/n said clearly annoyed at Soap's actions.

“ You think Ghost would talk to ye if he didn't like you mate? If Ghost didn't like you he would let you know. Ever cross your mind that Ghost might like you, lad? He almost looks like a puppy when he looks at you for Christ's sake!” Soap said the volume of his voice getting louder as he talked.” Ghost is pursuing you, mate! He Has a silly little crush on you. Ye know how long I had to sit there and listen to Ghost talk about you and how caring you are and you make him feel loved or some shite. Don't get me started on how long the man talked about how pretty yer eyes are, his driving me mad. And you think he doesn't like you? You’ve been dropped on the head as a child Y/n” Soap said his accent was somewhat thick as he talked. Y/n had a small blush on his face as he thought of what Soap said to him. “ Should I ask him out then or…” Y/n said shyly. Soap just gave Y/n a glare and Y/n got the message.

----------

The next time Y/n saw Ghost he stopped him. Y/n looked into Ghost's beautiful brown eyes.”Ghost you ummm, do you like me or. I don't know anymore you're hard to read.” Y/n said softly. Ghosts eyes searched Y/N's eyes for a moment. “ Like you a lot,” Ghost said with his gruff voice. “ How much is a lot Ghost,” Y/n said well gently holding Ghost's face in his hands making the brit look at him. “ Bloody hell… I like you so much that I go back to being Simon Reily for a moment don't feel like the Ghost I swore I am now.” Ghost said almost in a whisper. His hand now touching Y/ns hand that was holding his face so gently.

Y/n gave Ghost the warmest smile that matched the soft and loving look in Y/n eyes. “ Might have to stick by your side more often, I seem to like Simon Reily quite a lot,” Y/n said as he watched Ghost's dark brown eyes light up at his words. “Don't think people will believe that a Ghost can love,” Ghost said with a small chuckle. “ Well I'm not loving a ghost, I'm loving a man,” Y/n said softly.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

The Wine of Your Blood

Also on AO3

A/N: As usual, thank you to G <3

Pairing: Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Father Paul's transformation, he is tormented by a hunger only you can quell.

WC: 5.1k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, vampirism, blood drinking, religious imagery and symbolism (I'm not a religious expert tho I grew up catholic, sorry if I used wrong terms), canon divergence, hierophilia, corruption, graphic depictions of sex and some violence, unprotected sex (do not try at home), cunnilingus, ummm let me know if I missed anything pls!!

------------

The silhouette was there again, shrouded in a thick fog that rolled in from the tempestuous sea. It was tall and statuesque, like the guard of some mythical place – monstrous and terrible. Golden light blazed behind it, flickering like an ardent flame. Or like a beacon, slicing through the night’s darkness and calling you home.

You could not see its eyes, and yet you could feel the prickle of an assessing gaze. The siren-like lure was undeniable, and for a moment you could understand why sailors jumped into the sea with total abandon. 

But you were not afraid. You’d seen this apparition for various nights now, like an omen, even if you didn’t really believe in that sort of thing.

The real questions were: What was it presaging?

And why, especially, did it feel so inevitable?

————-

You awoke, as you often did in the late fall, to a gentle rain. As the day progressed, you knew it would grow in intensity, but for now, there was peace and quiet.

You stared at the drops trailing down your window like glistening tears of melancholy. The milky white early morning sky was the same as it ever was, casting a thin, watery light on everything.

When you finally pulled yourself out of bed, you peeked into your grandmother’s room to find her still out, snoring softly. Her breaths no longer sounded like wet, raspy gurgles, which made you sag with abundant relief. 

Sarah had diagnosed her with a mild case of pneumonia the previous week, but even so you knew things could turn for the worse on a whim. Your grandmother was nearing ninety, and while she had always been a sturdy woman, her body could only take so much now.

For a minute, you were seriously starting to consider getting in touch with the new priest, Father Paul, once again to talk last rites. For your grandmother’s sake, you wished Monsignor Pruitt could have performed them, but he was still recovering in the mainland.

But that all would be a problem for another day, given that she was doing much better. 

Still, she had adamantly refused to miss mass, and while she wasn’t strong enough to leave the house, Father Paul had been gracious enough to swing by for a house visit on Sunday.

He seemed like a fine man, soft-spoken, amiable, and welcoming. Not to mention, he had quite a charming way about him, especially when he laughed. Perhaps you shouldn’t be taking notice of that, but you couldn’t help it, despite how conflicted you felt in his presence.

There was something vaguely familiar in his dark eyes you couldn’t place — something that seemed far older, perhaps wiser, but definitely weathered. At times, prolonged eye contact with him seemed daunting, but you attributed it to your general wariness of strangers.

He hadn’t been at Crockett for very long, but you appreciated the effort he seemed to be making with everyone on the island, but especially with your grandmother. There had to be some way you could repay his kindness… perhaps in the form of a homemade treat.

You padded over to the kitchen to make some coffee, rummaging through the cupboards to see if you had all the ingredients to make some banana bread. 

You spent the rest of the morning cooking, your grandmother’s small house warm and permeated with the sweet, enticing smell of baking bread. You got ready after that, making sure your grandmother ate some breakfast and took her medicine before you headed out. 

Gravel crunched under your rain boots as you trudged over to the Monsignor’s house, where Father Paul was currently residing. You nodded in greeting at passerby, stopping only to spare a few words with Leeza Scarborough, who was on her front porch reading.

When you arrived at the house, the curtains were drawn and there seemed to be no lights on inside. You frowned in slight confusion, given that it was past noon. Perhaps he was out and about, but with so few residents on the island, you surely would have seen him.

You stepped up onto his porch, hesitating for a moment before knocking on the door.

“Father Paul?” You called tentatively. 

No answer. You tried knocking again, waiting for another few minutes.

When you were about to give up, you kneeled to set down the tupperware, and the door suddenly opened to reveal Beverly. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing you there and you quickly straightened.

“Oh, Beverly,” you said as a form of greeting. “Sorry, just wanted to drop something off for Father Paul. As a thank you.”

She cleared her throat, hands clasping in front of her. “I’m afraid Father Paul has fallen ill and is currently indisposed for visitors…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said sympathetically, further confused by the slight worry you felt at the news. “I can just give this to you, then. I’ll talk to him when he’s better.”

“How nice of you to do this,”  Beverly smiled tightly, eyebrows raising just a little. “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it, though I’m not sure if his stomach will be able to take it right now… Oh, I just hope it doesn’t go bad.”

You gave her a wry, uncomfortable smile in return. “It’s the thought that counts, right? Erm… I’m just glad he’s got someone to take care of him.”

“He’s in good hands, I assure you,” she nodded. “Mine, and the Lord’s, of course.”

You nodded in return, starting to back away slowly. “Right. Well, can you tell him my grandmother sends her regards?”

“Of course, I will let him know. Good day now.”

And with that, she shut the front door. You shook your head and let out a sigh, glancing only once back at the house as you walked away.

—————

For once, the night was clear. The stars and the waxing moon were visible, keeping you company as you stepped off your porch. The air was fresh and crisp, smelling faintly of petrichor. 

You stretched a little as you looked up at the sky, thanking whoever was up there for letting the rain cease for the time being. It seemed like forever since you’d last been able to go out for a nighttime jog, no one around to talk to or look presentable for. It was the perfect time to clear your mind, now that a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. 

You started down the gravel road, the wind whistling in your ears. Your legs kept a steady rhythm, the old houses of all your neighbors whizzing past your field of vision. You passed by the school and the convenience store, winding away from the main town area towards the harbor. 

The moon’s reflection made the black waves glitter, endless, ominous, and hauntingly beautiful. You stopped for a moment near the pier, looking beyond the water at all the distant lights of the mainland. So close, and yet so far. 

Sure, you yearned for all the mainland had to offer – an entire world that wasn’t just bite-sized, predictable, safe. But you could not yield to those selfish fantasies, not while someone who gave you so much throughout your life now required your help. You closed your eyes and breathed in the salty breeze.

Perhaps someday…

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The familiar voice made you almost jump out of your skin. You whirled around to find Father Paul a few feet behind you, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Maybe you’d been so distracted that you hadn’t heard him approach, but it still felt eerie.

“Oh, I’ve startled you, I’m so sorry,” he said with a nervous chuckle. 

You placed a hand on your chest as if to placate your racing heart. “It’s okay, Father. I just wasn’t really expecting to see anyone, is all.”

“Especially not the priest, right?” he raised an eyebrow, which made you huff in amusement.

“Guess I just thought you didn’t come out at night.”

He smiled lopsidedly, looking down and clearing his throat slightly. “You know, I think I’m becoming more partial to nighttime. I guess you could say I’m an insomniac.”

“All that weight on your conscience?” You said as he approached, standing next to you. 

“Something like that,” he sighed, now looking off into the distance. “Thank you for the bread. It was delicious.”

You shrugged it off modestly. “Grandma’s recipe. I’m just glad she’s right as rain again. Maybe… Your prayers helped. It’s what she insists on, anyway.”

He shook his head, a loose dark curl brushing his forehead. “That’s much too kind of her.”

You assessed his profile for a moment. “How are you feeling, Father? You were out for a few days, too.”

“I definitely needed some fresh air. Now, I’m much better,” he said with a smile, meeting your gaze. “I could not stay cooped in that house any longer. I’m really looking forward to our next mass.”

You said nothing, unsure of how to respond. Despite the fact that you’d grown up religious, you weren’t really practicing anymore. Sometimes you’d accompany your grandmother to sermons, but you often tried to find excuses to skip them.

So far, you had only been to one of Father Paul’s, and you had to admit there was something rapturous about his speeches. They were not only engaging, but the passion behind them was sort of infectious. You even caught yourself leaning forward in your seat, which you quickly corrected. 

It only added to the confusion of how you felt about this man, but such a mystery was undeniably alluring.

“Will you be joining us?” He asked. “No pressure if not, but it’d be nice to see you there.”

“Ah, is that what this is? You’re trying to convert me or something?”

“You’re very clever,” he observed, his grin broadening. “But no, that's not all it is. Part of it, sure, but I don’t want you to miss out on something really special.”

You couldn’t help the slight blush that spread across your cheeks, your heartbeat suddenly spiking once again. His easy, confident smile faltered for a moment, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The bestial hunger that had been tormenting him for days, rendering him weak and sickly, flared inside of him. 

“T-think on it, but like I said, no pressure on my part,” he added quickly, gasping a little as if he lacked air.

You nodded, failing to notice how he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists. His muscles were taut with self-restraint, rooting him to the spot. Luckily, you moved first, taking a step back. 

“Alright, thank you for the invite. Um…I should probably finish my jog and head back home,” you said, gesturing behind you. “Don’t get in too late, Father. You don’t want to catch another cold.”

————

Despite the fact that he was a passionate speaker, you had never seen Father Paul so worked up. 

He started by speaking about eternity and how hard it was to visualize it. The fire inside him was stoked as he spoke of God’s gifts, his miracles and his mysteries. How they were something tangible, something within reach of every grasping hand… even if one couldn’t understand them.

Then the fire turned into a feverish glint in his eyes, his skin paling considerably. He stumbled over his words, pausing to keep nausea at bay. Sweat broke out across his forehead, and he dabbed at it with a handkerchief. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just a little dizzy spell, but I’m fine now.”

Still, he braced his hand on the pulpit. You noticed Beverly was also leaning forward in her seat, ready to spring to action if need be. That was all the confirmation you needed that something was wrong.

But for a moment, as he continued talking, things seemed to settle. You relaxed in your seat, folding your hands on your lap.

“No abstracts. No colorful exaggerations. No. ‘Rebirth’, ‘Second chances’, ‘E-eternal li…’”

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull as his words faded into a shuddery exhale. He collapsed onto the floor, thudding heavily down the steps as the panicked voices of the congregation rose in volume.

Beverly reached him first, of course, but you knelt at his side only moments after. You hadn’t even registered you were running until you got there, cradling his head in your hands.

And even if he was unconscious, you could’ve sworn he leaned closer to your touch.

—---------

It was an audacious plan, you knew that well enough. Still, that clarity didn’t stop you from attempting to go through with it. 

As soon as Sarah Gunning arrived to attend to Father Paul, Beverly had kicked everyone out, holding firm even as you insisted you wanted to stay. Her stubborn will was infuriating, but perhaps also commendable, in a way. You had to bite back a few bitter words as you left, but that didn’t mean you intended to stay away.

You waited for her to leave Father Paul’s house, which didn’t happen until after the sun had set. Even when you couldn’t hear her receding footsteps any longer, you waited a few more minutes before approaching the front door. 

You raised your fist to knock, but the door suddenly opened to reveal a haggard-looking Father Paul. There were dark crescents hanging from his eyes and his skin was so pale it was almost translucent. 

For his sake, you held back from gasping, but he could still see worry written across your features.

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” you said with a small smile. 

“Keen senses,” he said softly. “Would you like to come in?”

You hesitated, despite the fact that a ‘yes’ was on the tip of your tongue. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Gave us a real scare earlier.”

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as if staving off an ache deep within him. In the dim light, you noticed the corners of his lips were a dark red. For a moment you wondered if he’d been drinking the sacramental wine.

“It may not seem like it but… better,” he said, mustering a small smile. “I fear I-I may owe you an explanation.”

“Oh, Father Paul, you don’t…”

“Please, I insist. I can make us some tea, if you’d like,” his voice dropped into the faintest whisper. “Just, stay. Please.”

The desperation in his voice gave you pause. You searched his face for the answer to a question you didn’t dare ask, and perhaps you deluded yourself into believing you found it. 

You nodded, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes. You heard him shuffle about in the kitchen, and you wrung your hands nervously as you glanced around the small, austere rectory. 

This was wholly improper, you knew, but you felt a magnetic sort of pull towards him that was getting harder to resist. It was easy to deny it at first, brushing it off as curiosity and excitement over having a newcomer on the island. 

Most were wary, but you… you wondered if he could be your link to the rest of the world. Your appetite for that dream was only whetted, closer to your fingertips than ever.

“Water’s boiling,” he said as he came into the living room. “Sit, please, make yourself comfortable.”

Obediently, you did as told. There was a palpable tension in the atmosphere that made your skin prickle. He sat across from you, gripping the armrests of the chair as he adjusted himself, unable to find a comfortable position.

“I have to insist that you owe me no explanation, Father. I just worry about your… condition,” you said.

“It’s no ordinary ailment. I think you’ve sensed that already, haven’t you?”

You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this, but willing to listen. 

He continued. “You have witnessed miracles here on the island. Things that you can’t explain and yet are so clear to your eyes. Were you listening to my homily earlier?”

“Yes, Father,” you said, even if you’d only been half-listening. 

But he was speaking the truth, if Leeza Scarborough was any indication. She had risen from her wheelchair just a few days prior, no longer in need of it. Since then, you’d seen other changes around Crockett, some of them more subtle than others. 

You clasped your hands on your lap to keep from moving them. “You mean to say you’ve brought about these miracles?”

He smiled patiently, indulgently. In this light, his eyes seemed darker than you’d ever seen, like two chasms you could get lost in.

“No, not me. God. I am merely a vessel for His glory, and all of the gifts He wishes to impart on us,” he said, leaning forward slightly and resting his forearms on his knees. “On you in particular.” 

“Me?” You blinked, genuinely surprised. “What sort of gift?”

“The gift of life anew. Rebirth. A holy transfiguration, if you will.”

His gaze was fixed on the way your throat worked as you swallowed hard, on edge despite your curiosity being piqued.

“You see, I was visited by an angel. Larger than life, with a greater wingspan than even an albatross. It was utterly magnificent… as well as horrifying. I was afraid at first, of course, for we all fear things that are unknown to us. I was on the brink of death regardless, but see me now, restored, in my prime!”

You frowned, a myriad of questions on the tip of your tongue, but then Father Paul doubled over, clutching his stomach. His dark brows were furrowed from the influx of pain and you instinctively rose to help, but he lifted a hand to stop you.

“But to be reborn, the old self must be destroyed, and thus… and thus it is not an easy road to walk,” he rasped.

You knelt beside him, concerned and abundantly confused all at once. “What do you need? How can I help you ease this pain?”

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, pleading, desperate. Like a wounded animal, almost. You wondered if he, too, might bare his teeth in warning.

“There is this hunger inside of me that I cannot seem to dispel. I-I fear it threatens to consume me,” he swallowed hard, straightening into a sitting position once more. “God asks terrible things of us sometimes, but I cannot help but think this is a test of my strength. My will.”

“I want to help,” you said softly, so softly, daintily placing a hand on his knee. 

But his ears were keen, as he’d said, and he heard you perfectly fine. Still, his eyes – glazed over in pain and hunger and desire – searched yours for any sign of doubt. Instead, he found resolve, as well as a very clear distress at seeing him suffer so much. 

Oh, pious, gentle little lamb. What a good heart you had. The idea that your blood might taste just as sweet made his head spin, his beastly hunger lashing out inside of him.

His hands cradled your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone ever so slightly. You found yourself leaning into his touch, too entranced by him to think objectively about the morality of the whole thing. The charge in the atmosphere changed into something more taut, all too close to snapping.

“You do not know what you are offering,” he said, holding fast to his self-restraint even as his mouth watered. 

“Maybe you could show me, then.”

A slight chuckle escaped his lips at your eagerness, one of his hands leaving your face to pat his thigh. “Come, would you like to sit here? Perhaps I shall whisper it in your ear.”

You started to lift yourself, but then hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as I’ll ever be of anything, my dear,” he assured, his smile momentarily taking on a certain edge, like that of a wolf’s.

You situated yourself on his legs gingerly, closer to his knees, but he brazenly grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. You gasped, a tingle forming between your shoulder blades and slowly crawling down your spine.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he relished the feeling, his arms circling your waist to keep you from squirming. “I hope you didn’t catch a fever from me.”

“I-I didn’t realize this was the sort of hunger you were referring to, Father,” you said tremulously, more heat sparking in your lower abdomen.

He traced his nose against the bare skin of your arm. “Not quite, but it’s making your heart race, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept to your cheeks, silently willing your heart to slow as it hammered insistently against your ribcage. Tenderly, he brushed your hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck. Instinctively, you tilted your head back, showing more of it. 

He hummed in approval, licking his lips. “Here, just a little taste first.”

He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his face. He kissed the tip of your index finger before taking some of it into his mouth. His inky black eyes held your gaze as you suddenly felt a painful prick on your digit that made you gasp once more. 

He groaned softly, holding your wrist as he lapped at the thin rivulet of blood. The mere sight paralyzed you for a moment, but it’d be a lie to say it didn’t make your cunt throb. 

And to make matters worse, the small rush of shame that followed this realization only seemed to turn you on more. Without thinking, you raked your free hand in his hair, tugging his head towards you. 

“Do it,” you rasped, your tone dangerously close to begging. “Please.”

“God bless you,” he said deliriously, clasping you tighter against his chest. “Oh, God bless you. I-I want to make it good for you, too.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and letting out another weak sound at your dizzying warmth. You shuddered and he scented a small note of fear as you tightened your grip on his hair. He shushed softly, soothingly, his lips ghosting over a quivering vein.

When his teeth first pierced the sensitive flesh, you let out a pained mewl as all of your muscles seized. Then — as fast as it had come — the pain vanished and you went slack against him. Stars danced in your vision as you felt the vibration of his groan against your throat.

Every single one of your nerve endings was alight with pleasure, which only seemed to grow in intensity.

Without you really noticing, your hips rocked back and forth, clothed cunt dragging against his leg in short, desperate movements that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. He gripped one of your hips tightly, guiding your movements with urgency.

In the kitchen, the kettle started whistling loudly just as an orgasm hit you like a freight train, rattling your very bones. You felt yourself melting in a way you never had before, toeing the line between life and death. You’d have gladly gone to heaven in that moment – or hell, for that matter – if fate so decided. He held you steady throughout, running a soothing hand up and down your spine.

Just when exhaustion began to creep in from the blood loss, he painstakingly pulled away, his mouth stained crimson. He looked drunken and dazed, like he was caught in between dreams. But he also seemed less frail, and definitely more alert, pupils fully dilated. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, gazing at you adoringly. Reverently, even. 

Diligently, he lapped at the weeping puncture wounds. His lips left a smear behind as he kissed your collarbone, hands ripping at your blouse to expose more flesh. Panting, you tried to undo the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers, but he stopped you.

“Lovely, eager thing. We’ll get there. Let me take care of you first,” he murmured against your sternum. 

He tore any garment that stood in his way fervently, until you were practically naked in his lap. Your back arched, taut as a bow, as he continued leaving sanguine kisses in his wake. He hauled you into his arms with preternatural strength as he stood up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you into his bedroom, laying you down on the bed gently. 

There, standing over you, he seemed every bit the statuesque figure that plagued your dreams.  His eyes glinted in the half-dark,  reflecting the moonlight spilling in through the window. He sank to his knees as if preparing for prayer, his grin hungry as he hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“Come here, little lamb. My most precious sacrifice. My hunger for you has not nearly been sated,” he said, licking his lips. “I am yet to make a feast of you.”

A kiss on your navel that had you shaking all over again. If you had come so hard without so much as a caress, you couldn’t imagine the delirium of his mouth where you ached for it most. Perhaps then, you would truly cross the line for good. 

He discarded the last garment covering you, revealing your glistening, slippery cunt for his appraisal.  He made an agonized sound, ducking his head immediately to kiss your inner thigh. The tip of his tongue traced your skin just a little bit, getting a taste of your divine essence. 

He knew then and there that he was utterly lost; That he would no longer know a  greater devotion than this. What a perfect altar for him to worship you, the cradle of your thighs.  It took all of his willpower not to sink his teeth into your femoral artery and drain you further, until all of your blood mingled with his. 

Another day, perhaps, when you’d recovered some.

Instead, he finally licked a long, languid stripe through your soaked folds. With a low moan, his mouth latched onto your overly sensitive bundle of nerves, making your entire body jerk. He gripped your thighs harder as you squirmed, your fingers burying in his dark curls and holding on for dear life.

You hadn’t expected him to be so good at it, but then again, it was a night of surprises. Not that you could ever complain, anyway. Your wanton moans only encouraged him further, his lips and tongue and even the slightest graze of his teeth making you buck and arch on the mattress. 

Once more, you felt a tidal wave begin to form, making your breath come out in sharp little exhales. But you didn’t want to let go again quite yet, at least not like this, with so much distance between your bodies.

You resorted to pleading, attempting to pull his head back. “F-Father wait, please, I want—”

“Don’t hold back from me,” he urged hoarsely, between licks. “Come on, give me one more. I’ll reward you doubly, I promise.”

You began to protest once more, but with an expert swirl of his tongue, the wave finally crested. Violently crashing against the rocks of your sanity. Your eyes searched for heaven again at the back of your head, mouth falling slack in rapture. He made sure you rode it all the way through, softly murmuring praises.

You lay there spent, chest heaving with great, deep breaths. He chuckled, both amused and inexplicably fond at the sight of you so undone. He pulled back to make quick work of his clothes, smears of dry blood further darkening his black shirt.

“I fear you might be turning me into a glutton,” he said, removing his collar and setting it down on the nightstand. 

Your eyes trailed his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt, and you gave him a weak, teasing smile. “You are not the only insatiable creature here, Father.”

“I see that now,” he grinned, his canines all too sharp. “What a great gift He has bestowed upon me, bringing you here.”

His jeans were next to go, merely kicked to one side, and his body slid over yours in a warm embrace. Then finally, mercifully, his lips found yours in a slow, searing kiss. It was the last piece missing from the puzzle that connected you; The last nail on the coffin of your fate.

You tasted yourself on his tongue,  moaning into his mouth as you cupped the back of his head. Ankles crossed behind his back, pressing down, silently urging him closer. He guided himself into you, moving slowly so you could get used to the stretch. There was a growl low in his throat as he bottomed out, and his kiss became fiercer. Possessive, even.

The only sound in the dimly lit room was that of flesh slapping together lewdly as he quickened his pace, your sharp breaths and wistful sighs. The way he whispered your name like a prayer as he nearly dissolved with passion. It was then that you broke the kiss, tilting your head to the side as his lips chased yours in a dreamlike, desperate state. You shifted, baring your throat for him to ravage once more.

“Just like this,” you murmured, eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones as you readied yourself. “I’m yours.”

“Only a little more,” he promised, kissing the base of your neck before tracing his way up with his nose. 

A gasp, and then you were submerged in that languid, morphine state. Ecstasy hit him like lightning, and he was no longer able to hold back. He trembled against you as he came, crushing you tighter to him, buried to the hilt. You felt heat flooding you as he sealed the puncture wounds again, lips finding yours right after.

He rolled off of you only to tuck you both in, drawing you close and kissing the top of your head. His onyx eyes scanned your beatific features, wonder and amazement written all over his own. 

“The night suits you, my dear,” he said, wiping strands of your hair away from your sweat-dotted face. “Perhaps it would be less lonesome with you around...” 

He seemed truly vulnerable in that moment, smaller, entirely human. Eyebrows pinched together in consternation, lips pursed with some guilt at his actions. You snuggled even closer, leeching off his body heat. If anything, seeing this side of him, complex and familiar in a way you instinctively understood, reassured you.

“Will you take my hand and guide me through it?” You asked, voice low and wistful.

He nodded, lacing his fingers through yours. “Through the valley of the shadow of death and beyond. There is still so much for you to see,  and the gift of time is at our disposal. Isn’t that a lovely thought?”

Yes, yes it was. Comforting enough to finally drift into dreams of the stars beyond the horizon.

[simplydannie]

Story inspired by and written for @gabykatttt ❤️

The Trolls are off on a small journey with Velvet and Veneer at their heels. All seems to be going well, until Veneer begins to spew random nicknames for Branch.

Branch, unsurprisingly, begins to grow tiresome of Veneers desperation for his friendship… and he makes it known.

The Trolls decided to take the twins on a stroll throughout the Troll Kingdom. They had already been to Pop Troll, next was the Rock Trolls.

Velvet wasn’t one for picnics, hiking, or nature in general… but right now, for Veneer, she would try anything.

“Let’s keep going guys! Come one we’re almost there!” Poppy chimed.

“Seriously? We have to walk more? Uuugghhh.” Velvet moaned.

“Stop whining and keep climbing.” Branch stated. “We’re walking 100x more than you and we’re not complaining.”

“Oh hush grudge troll.” Velvet exclaimed.

“You got it Tree Branch!” Veneer called out. Velvet looked at him with a questionable look. Branch and some of the other Trolls raised an eye brow…. Veneer flushed red out of embarrassment.

“Ummm, okay.” Branch replied. Veneer pulled his beanie further down, nearly enough to cover his eyes.

“The hell was that Veneer.” Velvet whispered to her brother as the fell a little behind the trolls.

“Was that too much?” He asked.

“Way, WAY too much.”

“…oh god.”

What was Veneer thinking? Tree Branch? That was too obvious. He adored Branch and just really wanted his friendship. Veneer could feel that Branch was still closed off, that he had a lot more walls to tear down before gaining Branches trust.

“Alright guys! Let’s rest up here a bit!” Poppy called out.

“Oh thank god!” Velvet over exaggerated, falling to the ground letting out a big sigh. “That was the longest walk of my life.” She grabbed her water and gulped it down desperately. Veneer opened his bag to take out his own.

“How are you not tired Bitty B.” John Dory stretched his legs and arms.

“Only the strong willed JD , only the strong willed.” Branch replied with a satisfied grin.

“Branch-a-roo, you want some of my water?” Veneer asked. This earned a giggle from Branches brothers, except Floyd. He made a face of disapproval to his laughing brothers.

“Um, no thank you. And it’s just Branch.”

“Oh! Okay sorry.” Veneer turned bright red as he took a seat next to his sister.

“Oh come on now, Branch-a-roo.” Clay teased. Branch balled his little fists. Veneer had been humiliating him the entire trip. He knew the kid wanted to be friends, but Veneer was terrible at reading people, terrible to know that Branch wanted to be left a lone.

“Rest up and then let’s go.” Branch muttered as he walked away.

Moments passed before they gathered their strength again to continue making their way to the rock troll kingdom. The trip took longer as they stopped to side see, showing the twins their own little world. Veneer was glued to his phone taking pictures left and right. He forced Velvet to pose with him on some, Poppy and Viva happily joining in on others, he even got one with Floyd. Veneer smiled at the pictures in his phone; other than Velvet of course, he felt like he actually had friends for the first time, but someone was missing.

“Hey Branchster! Want to take a picture together?” He called out with a smile on his face. Branch winced when he heard Veneer call, his brothers giggling at the growing progression of nicknames the Rageoun was coming up for the little Troll.

“No.” Branch stated firmly.

“Oh come on Branchy! Just one! I need one with all my friends.” The Rageoun smiled.

“….I’m not your friend.” He said softly, but at the same time loud enough for others to hear. A frown came across Veneers face.

“Oh?”

“I’m not your friend, so stop giving me nicknames. It’s just Branch.”

Veneer looked at his phone, pretending to scroll through his pictures… but his sister was the one to notice the sadness in his eyes.

“Okay.” Veneer said as he turned away pretending to take more pictures, but as soon as he faced away, the tears started falling. He quietly walked away into the thicket. Velvet casted a look of anger on the small gloomy Troll.

“Was that necessary!” She demanded.

“I’m not his friend.” Branch repeated.

“Can’t you at least try?” Floyd asked. Branch crossed his arms and turned away.

“He’s been making this trip miserable with all the stupid nicknames.” Branch said.

“The only one making it miserable is you, troll!” Velvet placed her hands on her hips, scowling at Branch. “You know what, me and Veneer are fine. We’ll see the Rock Troll Kingdom another time!” She turned and stormed away in search of her brother.

Branch couldn’t help but feel a small sense of guilt. Veneer was too much at times, Branch just wasn’t used it. What didn’t help was that he still held that bitterness towards the twins, as much as they tried. Branch would never understand why Veneer looked up to him, what he saw in him. He looked at Poppy…she had been the same way at one point. Pestering Branch even though he’d make it clear he wanted to be alone… and now she was the best thing had ever happened to him. Poppy had brought out the best in him… he couldn’t help but see a resemblance in what Veneer was doing… the kid really just wanted a friend… Branch just so happened to be the lucky one….he let out a deep sigh. He headed off in search of the twins.

Velvet and Veneer sat in a small clearing against a tree.

“I guess this isn’t so bad.” Velvet said looking at the nature around her. Her eyes fell upon her brother, hugging his knees, staring at the ground.

“Mm hm.” Was all he replied…

“Ven, can you stop thinking about what Branch told you?”

“…. Why has it been so hard for me to make friends?”

“Aren’t I your friend goofball?”

Veneer smiled. “Yeah but you’re my sister…that doesn’t count.”

“Ouch. That one hurt.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! That’s not what I mean!” He cried pulling his beanie over his eyes. Velvet smiled. A small sound of brushes against the trees caused them to turn around… a small Troll popped out amongst the leaves.

“Hey.” Branch simply said. Velvet huffed turning her brother to face away from the Troll. “Come on Velvet that’s not fair.”

“Let’s go Vennie.” She stood up pulling her brother along with her.

“Wait please!”Branch called out. Veneer was the one to stop, turning to look at the small Troll. Velvet tried to keep pulling him, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Look Veneer, I’m sorry.” Branch began. “I’m just not used to all this…attention… other than from Poppy. I always try to make sure I’m not noticed by anyone and here you come… noticing me. I- I don’t know how to handle it. Then my brothers don’t help in making fun of me… but none of that is your fault. You just want a friend…” Veneer took in the small Trolls words, contemplating what he should say, or if he should say anything at all.

“…. I’m sorry Branch… I wasn’t really good at making friends… still am. I hear everyone call you cool names, I started feeling left out. But if you don’t want me to call you nicknames I won’t. I promise!” Veneer fiddled with his thumbs as he confessed. Velvet stood behind him waiting to pounce on the little Troll if she needed too. Branch took a look at Veneer… he really was just a kid… they both were. Kids who were misguided and groomed… if there was any hope for them, Branch had to start changing his ways. He allowed the silence to linger for a moment before he spoke.

“Are you still up for that picture?” The Troll finally asked. A wide smile grew on Veneers face.

Velvet only rolled her eyes in disgust. Veneer took out his phone and pulled his sister along to join in the picture.

“This is vile.” She said.

“You’re nothing BUT vile.” Branch murmured as he hopped on Veneers shoulder getting ready to smile for the picture. “By the way… Branchster had a nice ring to it.”

Veneers smile spread from ear to ear.