#thorny cricket

[fishsyndrome]

Thorny Cricket

[black-salt-cage]

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

[can-of-pringles]

There's this I think(?) Thorny Cricket named Frederick on tiktok and his face.. he's so goofy looking in a cute way

[nightlyrequiem]

Little Red Riding Hood

Your grandmother is unwell, and you're sent out into the dark woods to bring her breads and meats. Something lurks within the forest, and it doesn't take too kindly to trespassers.

New part every Thursday

Masterlist AO3

A/N- Pretty sure Little Red Riding hood is a child in the original story. Reader is of age here. Also, I rewrote the middle and ending like three times.

Tags/Warnings: Werewolf Valeria, Stalking, Kidnapping, WLW, Violence, Murder

You lightly shiver as you stand before a large stretch of woods. Staring out at the sea of trees. The forest is so thick and dense that after a few feet you can't see anything past the lush foliage. It's easy to get lost. The wind picks up and you have to adjust your stance to stay upright, your vibrant red cloak billows around you. The path is dark and narrow. Bordered by thorny bushes and thick trees. You don't want to venture in, but your grandmother is unwell and you're the eldest out of your four sisters. Woven basket in hand you slowly walk into the trees. 

It's quiet. Trees with thick corded trunks and spiny branches loom over you. Full, leafy bushes border the path as you travel. You dislodge and scatter loose stones and pebbles. Sending them clattering to the side. You breathe calmly and walk at a steady pace to conserve energy. If you're good with your time you should make it to your grandmother's little cottage before dark. You can picture it now. A wood and cobbled structure with wildflowers in the garden. The stone fireplace burning and warming the inside. Your small grandmother looking even smaller in her large bed, made by your father.

Leaves and twigs litter the trodden dirt path, quietly crunching under your well-worn boots. Soft ferns lightly brush against your bare legs like a lover's caress. You breathe in the fresh air. It smells crisp, a promise of the upcoming winter. You walk for a few more minutes before slowly stopping. Growing over the path up ahead are large, threatening looking clusters of thorn bushes. Left uncheck to thrive in the wilderness, their thorns reaching as long as three inches and curving like claws. You bend down and carefully run a finger over one, letting the end drag across the pad of your index finger.

You take a step back, weighing your options. The thicket is too densely packed to wade through and the rest of the path behind it has been reclaimed by nature. Bushes and plants as tall and taller than you stand proudly. Sprouting up from between cracks in the thorn bushes. The unforgiving darkness of night is quickly approaching. Leaving the path during the day is unsafe, your odds are even less unfavorable in the dark. You can't see any other way through, though. You could turn around and begin the defeated trek back home, but you're more than halfway to your destination. You pick at a hangnail as you struggle to make a decision. Against your better judgement, you step foot off the sturdy, packed path. Your feet sinking into the soft, moist soil of the No-Man's Land. You force your way through the undergrowth, swallowed up by the woods.

You're blundering through the dark. Unable to see where you're going or find the path. You bump into large rocks, trees, bushes. Anything that can be in your way is in your way. You continue to blindly search for the path. Fear overriding your rational thought and judgement. Your heart stutters as a twig snaps behind you. You whip around and strain your eyes to try and see what it was, but the moonlight can't break through the tangled ropes of tree branches up above.

You stand still. Heart pounding in your ears as sweat soaks your underarms. You stare into the darkness and imagine something horrifying glaring back. All is silently. Not even the crickets will serenade this night with their orchestra of chirping. A low, almost inaudible growl rumbles through the air. The noise kicks you into action and you turn to flee. Your lungs burn as you run from whatever terribly large creature runs behind you. Miraculously, you manage to avoid running face first into a tree. Your legs are cut up from nettles and spiny leaves, but you don't stop. Eventually after what feels like hours of running you realise you don't hear the loud, abrasive sound of footsteps behind you.

You stumble and lean against a large tree. Small twigs sprouting out from its trunk dig into your arms, but you ignore them in favour of catching your breath. Your legs are liquid and your hands tremble without your consent. You suck in painful breaths to your deprived lungs. You look around, not that it does much good. It's so dark that you can only just barely make out the fuzzy, black outlines of bushes and trees. You're disoriented and afraid, not even sure which direction you're facing. Your grandmother's cottage is to the north, near the river. You try to calm down so you can think.

If you find the river you can find your grandmother's cabin. You quiet your breathing and listen. Up above you can hear the leaves rustling in a breeze you can't feel. A mouse, or perhaps a vole disturbs some leaves nearby. There! In the distance you hear the sound of running water. Small waves lapping up against immovable rocks. You blindly gravitate towards the sound. Moving slowly and carefully as to avoid both detection and falling. 

Through gaps in the thinning trees, like a beacon of hope, you see the river glittering with moonlight. You carefully walk along it, wading through the dry, tall grass, so tall that it's up to your waist. Burrs collect onto your red cloak, but you ignore them. The small prickling is nothing compared to the fear you feel. Up the river, turn at the forked tree. Up the river, turn at the forked tree. Up the river - turn at the forked tree. The forked tree grows out from the river, small but so old that it grew in a time before the river swept through these lands to nourish the life within the forest.

You turn and head straight, Anxious you're not going in the right direction. Your senses are on high alert. You're so paranoid that every little noise is that thing coming back to get you. At one point, you think you hear a second pair of footsteps. There is no stuttered halt whenever you stop abruptly. Your heart soars with relief as you spot the cabin in the clearing. A welcoming orange glow of safety flickers inside. You clumsily trot through the last of the tall grass and bushes. Vines and twigs catch on your calves and ankles in a last attempt to keep you, but you push through and walk into the clearing.

You approach the cabin and knock on the wooden door. The action pushes it open, much to your surprise. You peer inside with a frown.

"Grandmother?" You call out and receive no answer. You step inside the threshold and look around. There's an overpowering metallic scent in the air, setting your nerves alight with suspicion. You relax as you spot your grandmother's figure cozied up in bed. The tip of her night cap sticking out from under the covers.  

"Grandmother." You say, setting the basket down on a nearby table. Your grandmother shifts and then sits up. She looks a little bigger than you remember. "I'm sorry for waking you, I was supposed to be here hours ago, but I had to stray off the path and became lost." You explain apologetically. Leaving out the part where you were chased by something. These woods are her home, and you don't want to make her afraid.

Your grandmother doesn't reply verbally, only a slight jerk of the head to acknowledge you. You peer at your basket full of goods.

"I have breads and meats." You say. "Some of the others have given us some lamb and pig, and Eloise was allowed to take home some of the bread she made at the bakery."

Your grandmother turns her head to look at you and you freeze for a second. Her face looks distorted. You chalk it up to the low light from the fire.

"It smells delightful." She murmurs. Her voice sounds... deeper.

"My, your voice has deepened, grandmother!" You say, trying to lighten the mood.

"All the easier to greet you with my dear." She replies smoothly. Narrowing her dark eyes at you.

"What big eyes you have." You hum. Were her eyes always that big... or sunken in?

"All the better to see you with, my dear." Her voice is slightly muffled. 

You look down at her hands just as she slips them back under the covers. Was that fur and claws you saw? They were certainly bigger than you remember. You shuffle, feeling both uncomfortable and foolish. Your experience in the woods has turned you paranoid.

"Are your hands swollen?" You ask with concern. "They look bigger."

"Bigger hands make it easier to hold you." She replies. "Why don't you come closer?"

Everything inside of you screams not to do that but it would be rude and improper to ignore the orders of an elder - especially your grandmother.

You approach slowly. You try not to make a face at the musty, metallic smell wafting off of her. You study her. She doesn't look any more normal up close. There's a gap between her eyes and the rest of her face and the lower half of her face is stretched out limply. You realise just a second too late that this isn't your grandmother. The nightcap falls off with your grandmother's face and the nightgown tears as the large, muscled, furry body of a wolf lunges at you. Knocking you to the ground. You scream but it means nothing.

The wolf bares her teeth at you.

"Foolish girl." She says. "Hasn't anyone ever taught you not to leave the path?" One of her paws is planted firmly on your sternum with enough pressure to hurt.

"Let me go!" You cry out. 

"It does get lonely though." The wolf hums in thought, ignoring your protesting. "And you are just so kind. Bringing me baked bread and lamb."

"It was for my grandmother." You hiss. "What have you done?"

"I think I'll keep you."

You don't get the chance to reply before she's grabbing your shoulders, her claws digging into your skin through the cloak, and lifting you up halfway only to slam you back down. The back of your head collides with the hard stone floor, knocking you unconscious and leaving you at the mercy of the beast.

You wake with a splitting headache. It takes you a second to register the soft animal furs around you and another to register the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. You sit up and look around. You're in a cabin, but not one familiar to you. The space is small. A wardrobe, a table, and a fireplace and hearth. You glance down. A bed as well, one full of pelts for blankets. You touch the back of your head and wince. Still tender. You feel confused. Was it all a dream? It must have been. Wolves don't talk.

The door slams open, startling you out of your skin. In walks a woman. Her dark hair is cut short, hanging just past her chin. she's well built, arms toned and tanned. Her nose is oddly small and delicate. A few lines from age mar her otherwise clear skin. Her dark brows are arched, and she looks at you without surprise.

"You're finally awake." She murmurs. "Good."

"... Where am I? Who are you?" You ask firmly, wary of this pretty stranger. She wears boots and a simple dark shirt tucked into trousers. A female woodsman, very uncommon, not something you've heard of before. Perhaps a hunter. Maybe she saved you from the wolf? Or maybe you slipped by the river and hit your head, and she rescued you.

"My name is Valeria."

You realise she has an accent. You give her your name as well and repeat your previous question.

"Where am I?"

Valeria considers you. "You're in my home."

Yes, you guessed as much. "Why?" You ask, frowning. With a stranger in her bed, you'd think she'd act with more caution or urgency.

"Hm. I hope you didn't hit your head too hard." She frowns, her voice almost has a mocking quality to it. "I told you last night; I'm keeping you."

Despair wells up inside of you. You desperately want last night to be a dream, but it wasn't. Your grandmother is dead, and you have been stolen.

"But... it was a wolf that said that to me." You say uncertainly. This woman looks very human. Regardless, your words seem to amuse her, and her lips pull into a smile. 

"I am the wolf." She says. "But only for one night a month."

This is absurd, you think. People can't turn into wolves. But then what attacked you last night? It looked like a wolf, it growled like a wolf, it moved like a wolf. 'If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's probably a duck.'

"I won't tell anyone." You whisper. "Let me return home, and I won't tell anyone about you." 

"No, you certainly won't be telling anyone about me." She agrees. "You won't be leaving either."

You recoil as she starts advancing. Valeria stops at the edge of the bed and looks down at you.

"It's so lonely out here, and you are just too sweet to pass up." She hums. You look towards the window. To the lush, green forest outside.

"I do not want to stay-"

"I don't care what you want." Valeria interrupts. "You'll learn to like it here. If you try to leave, I'll eat you."

You stare back at her helplessly. You're unsure if that's a joke or not, but she ate your grandmother so clearly, she has no qualms on the matter.

Valeria gets on the bed and reaches out for you. You struggle and try to push her away, but she just grabs your arms and pulls you against her. Hugging you far too tightly to her chest. She smells like the very woods she inhabits. Her breath lightly fans over the nape of your neck. You won't be getting away any time soon.

[cambion-companion]

Dinner Date

Sorry I haven't written in a while! I have several anon asks requesting something small for a dinner date with Raphael, inspired no doubt by the lovely Mr. Wincott's contribution in the livestream!

With a little twist because I haven't explored what it would be like delivering the crown to the cambion.

"What could be more exquisite than watching the hero of Baldur's Gate walk to me, fresh in the moonlight." Raphael leaned forward in his seat, the cool night air and cricket song belaying the tension in his taught frame.

He smiled as you approached and sat at the wooden table, the warm brown eyes of his human guise sparkling in the candlelight. "You've proven to be quite the asset, my dear. A fortuitous investment, indeed."

"Raphael." You greeted, your stomach doing obnoxious flips as it always did in his presence. "I brought you a little souvenir, as I'm sure you already know."

"Indeed I am." Raphael purred, his eyes scanning you person with keen intent. "I had front row seats, as it were. Your victory was marvelous. You played your part well."

You grunted, not flattered by the way he treated it all like an elaborate theater production. You hefted the wrought iron crown out of your bag of holding and placed it, glittering, upon the table.

The weight of such an artifact drew both your gazes, and all that could be heard for several moments was a soft zephyr stirring the trees and the sound of frogs and crickets harmonizing to the summer night.

The candle sputtered in the breeze and you looked to Raphael only to find his eyes already locked on your face.

He spoke with an intensity you'd not yet become familiar with. "Well done." He swirled deep red wine in his crystal chalice. "I wish you'd reconsider becoming business partners."

"You say it like we'd be equals." You scoffed, knowing full well he'd love nothing more than to gain your soul for his collection. You shook your head and took a sip of your own drink. "I think not, Raphael. As much as I like you, I'm not that stupid."

"I'd be disappointed if you gave in easily." Raphael raised a hand and the crown vanished in a swirl of golden embers, their brief light reflected in your widened eyes. "I do so enjoy the chase, and you are such a lush prize."

You have the cambion a wry smile, a touch of fondness to the curl of your lips. "I'll admit, it would be disappointing if after this we never saw each other again."

Raphael nodded and beckoned a waiter, never removing his gaze from your face. He looked for all the world like the cat who got the cream. "What is the phrase you mortals are so fond of? Ah, yes." He gestured grandly as he spoke, illustrating his words with his hands. "I fully intend on having my cake, and I will eat it too."

Later that same night, Raphael had whisked you away back to his House of Hope. You'd expressed mild displeasure at being taken back to Avernus but he'd quelled your complaints with a look.

Raphael reclined in a grand chair, almost a throne in appearance, his leg crossed over the other. His human skin had been shed in favor of his larger, sharper devil form. He raised two fingers, snapped them, and conjured the crown of Karsus to float between where you stood and he sat.

"Now we are somewhere more appropriate, I require you to complete our contract."

You pursed your lips together, knowing the answer before you spoke the question. "How, exactly?"

Raphael paused for dramatic effect. When he spoke next it was a command, not a request. "Crown me."

The crown felt cold and heavy in your hands when you took it, the weight extending to your very soul as you approached where Raphael sat.

You slowly lifted it and placed the intricate metal piece gently onto his heady, being careful to accommodate for the thorny spiral of his horns. It slid perfectly atop his dark hair, you couldn't help but admire the way it looked. "As though it was made for you." You said aloud, not noticing the words come out of your mouth.

A large, clawed hand cupped the back of your neck, hellfire eyes burning into you. "As surely as your very soul was for me." Raphael purred and dragged you down for a searing kiss.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Modern farmers and landowners, however, are prejudiced against scrub because it is considered unproductive. As a result it has been almost entirely eradicated from Britain. Scrubland is almost ubiquitously described as wasteland. It was not always so. In medieval times, scrub species were highly valued, and scrub was anything but a dirty name. The iron-rod stems of blackthorn were used for walking sticks and its fruit – sloes – for medicines and flavouring wine and gin. Brambles, like elder, produce edible berries that were also useful for dyes. Hawthorn makes good walking sticks, as well as tool handles, and was used for stock-proofing, and produces hawberries for preserves and sauces. Hazel was for hurdles, thatching spars, basketry, furniture and charcoal; willow for charcoal-making and basketry, cricket bats and medicine. Charcoal from alder and dogwood made gunpowder. Broom, of course, made excellent brooms. Juniper was for smoking meats and making pencils, its berries for distilling oil, and flavouring game and gin. Spindle was for skewers, toothpicks and baskets. Wych elm made bows, furniture and threshing floors. Birch provided cotton reels and bobbins, firewood, brooms and roofing thatch; its bark was for waterproofing and tanning. Birch wine, fermented from sap, was used as medicine and young birch leaves were a diuretic. From the dog rose came rosehips – which we now know are exceptionally high in vitamin C – for syrups, sauces and jellies. Gorse – known as ‘furze’ in Sussex – was fodder for animals and fuel for kilns and ovens. A buffer of thorny scrub was often encouraged around woodland to prevent the ingress of grazing animals. Place names like Thorndon, Thornden, Thornbury, Haslemere, Hazeldon, Spindleton, Hathern (hawthorn), Hatherdene, Brambleton, Barnham Broom, Broomhill, Broompark, pepper the map of Britain. Our own field names at Knepp recall the days when scrub was an asset – Benton’s Gorse, Broomers Corner, Broom Field, High Reeds, Cooper Reeds, Faggot Stack Plat, Bramble Field, Rushett’s, Rushall Field, Little Thornhill, Great Thornhill, Stub Mead, Barcover Furzefield, Swallows Furzefield, Coates’ Furzefield, Greenstreet Furzefield, Constable’s Furze, Pollardshill Furze, Old Furze Field, Furzefield Plat, Great Furzefield and lots of Little Furzefields.

Isabella Tree, Wilding: The Return of Nature to a British Farm

[ohnoanalien]

All You Need to Do Is Ask

Hi! I'm back, kind of!

I was planning to not post to keep the bots away-- but @hcdragoncat is an awesome writer, and @journey-to-the-au is awesome in general! I got inspired by this drabble based on the What If AU.

It might also be because the SEM posts are destroying me and I need some fluff, comfort, and humor (or at least, I tried). I see your ':)' and I know I'm in for a bad time. Pray for me before I strangle a myth from a 16th century book. ❤️

Regardless, thanks for being amazing writers! You're awesome!

---

"Absolutely not."

"Baije, please-- ow-- don't worry yourself. I'll be fine."

Haarini pleaded to no avail. Pushing her back down with stubborn hooves, the pig demon reached for a small bundle. All the while, Pilgrim silently picked at his meal from afar.

"Ah, but you seem to forget." Garnet eyes examined a swollen ankle, reaching for a roll of gauze. "I was once a farmhand. Injuries like these are terrible if left untreated."

"You can't just assume--" Pigsy's sharp glare met hers, cutting her thorny words at the stem.

"Tell me. How many years did you spend outside your temple, honing your survival skills?" He moved to wipe a stinging cut on her cheek. "Because I can assure you that, when you are a wanderer, pain endurance isn't a requirement."

From beside the campfire, Sha Wujing's eyes traveled from Haarini's bloodthirsty scowl to Pilgrim's endless shivering. With gentle footsteps, the demon sat down beside him, nudging him with a large shoulder.

"You're eating very slowly. Is everything alright, my friend?"

No response. The eldest disciple sniffled, rubbing a flushed nose.

"Wukong?" The monk asked again.

Ao Lie raised his head.

"Pilgrim?"

Zhu Baije and Haarini stopped their bickering. Their eldest disciple finally looked up, startling when he was met with a sea of curious eyes.

"Do I have something on my face?" The stone monkey chuckled nervously.

"Well, no." Wujing hummed to himself, "You just seem-- oh, what's the word--"

"Distracted." Tripitaka furrowed his brow from his spot under a tree. "Absent-minded. Weak."

Weak. Weak?

In an instant, Wukong's fur puffed at the accusation.

"Master, you forget that our eldest disciple can’t possibly weaken. He's immortal several times over! He's probably just cold from his little dip in the river." Zhu Baije snorted.

"He's right, Master! I'm p-perfectly..." A raspy breath hitched.

Haarini frowned, pushing herself to her feet. "Wukong, what’s going–"

A loud sneeze rumbled through the night air, fire flickering at the force of it. Dazed and confused, the pilgrims surfaced from the shock, ears still ringing. The deity's face reddened through his fur, hovering a paw over his nose. 

"Excuse me. I– snff! I need to go…patrol the area." He mumbled. And with that, the great sage was gone.

"...Should we go after him?" Wujing finally piped up.

Haarini took her time limping through the mountain path. She was insistent on checking first-- despite the group’s overflowing concerns.

"Please do not search for too long." Tripitaka guided her towards the brush that circled their little safe haven, "You might exacerbate your sprain."

"And watch for roots." Zhu Baije examined her wrappings…again. "Tripping over anything in your condition would make things much worse."

"And please be aware of your surroundings." Wujing added, hands wringing. "If a demon attacks, we wouldn't want you to fight alone. So remember to ask for help when you need it, okay?"

Haarini's eye twitched. "Anyone else want to give me advice that I already know?"

Like clockwork, the youngest disciple whinnied. The warrior threw her head back, glaring up at the moon. "Thank you Ao Lie. Very helpful."

The forest itself was much better company, lively with conversation. Owls hooted. Crickets chirped. Haaniri stepped from the dapples of moonlight into a wide meadow, its rolling garden seeming to stretch on for miles. Fireflies gracefully floated above the flowers, flickering in the dark like embers on the wind.

A coughing fit broke the peace, and Haarini couldn't help the giggle that passed her lips. The Monkey King was never one for stealth, was he? She carved her way through the tall grass and up to a familiar patch of golden fur. 

And there sat her patient, sniffling and rubbing at his face.

Haarini frowned. Was. Was he crying? Is that why he was so quiet? Is that why he refused to come near us? Is he too prideful to face his friends?

The langur paused. She steeled herself, a nimble paw reaching out to his shoulder.

And then all chaos broke loose.

The Monkey King sneezed. She screamed. He yelped. They scrambled backwards, perched on all fours and fur puffed like feral cats. For just a moment they were frozen in time, backs arched, staring wide eyed between a storm of windswept petals.

"...We’re going back." Haarini said flatly, loosening up to pick freckles of pollen from her fur.

"I’m fine."

"Wukong."

"I am! Don’t you trust your Grandpa Sun?"

The langur sighed, moving to sit beside him. "Do you know how stubborn you are?"

Wordlessly, ruby eyes traveled to her ankle. Haarini scoffed, tail blocking its view with a silver swish. "Th-that’s not the same!" She huffed, arms crossed.

"I see." Wukong wheezed out a chuckle-- which spiraled into a coughing jag. Blood boiled under his dear friend’s fur. Golden eyes narrowed. 

Fine. If the idiot wasn't going to help himself, she'd just have to do it for him.

All too suddenly Haarini hissed in pain, reaching to clutch her ankle. And as she predicted, the deity immediately leaned forward, ignoring his own state. He suppressed a shiver. She fought the urge to strangle the immortality out of him.

"Will you stop that? I said I'm fine!" Haarini grasped at his cheeks to push him away.

Her friend immediately obliged, concern weighing heavily on his drooping shoulders.

“What a terrible illness. His mind must be half-melted by now…" The patient muttered, flexing her fingers.

"What was that?"

"Oh! Sorry. Just mumbling to myself, that’s all. Being treated in the presence of a king must have rattled my nerves quite a bit." She threw a wrist over her forehead, shooting him a teasing smirk.

A snort broke the monk’s worry, and Haarini couldn't help but mirror his laughter as he sprung back to life. Wukong scooched just a little closer, emerald grass pooling at his waist. "Oh, I completely understand. After all, you are in the presence of someone so great."

As he tried to calm his giggling Haarini leaned on her elbows, scanning every inch of his body. "The long walk here hasn’t done me any favors either. Would you mind...?" She extended her leg.

Without hesitation, Wukong rolled up his sleeves.

Then cracked his knuckles.

Then cracked his neck.

Haarini raised a bushy brow.

“What?” The Monkey King sniffed, nose in the air, “I’m just preparing.” And with that, he began to message a twisted ankle.

The langur hummed, a round ear flicking absent-mindedly as she dipped lower. "You know, I was wondering. You can't swim without sinking. Why jump into a river to save me from drowning?" 

For just a second, the deity’s carefree smile bent. "Come now, you’ve traveled with me long enough! Any challenge I've faced is just flimsy kindling in my hands. This was nothing! A fluke! A bump in the road!"

Another sniffle.

"But you could have easily let Sha Wujing do the honors. Or Zhu Baije. Or a barely sturdy tree branch.” Haarini said with a sigh of irritation.

The Monkey King’s face grew hot with embarrassment, but her thoughts marched on.

"It. I just. If there's anything wrong. If...if I did something wrong--" All concerns flipped on their side as the great sage’s lower back twitched, unable to stop a pitiful whimper from slipping out.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Last chance, dumbass.

"Don't worry! Don't worry! As I said, I'm perfectly well, th-thank you." Wukong's voice crackled, and he paused to rub at an aching throat. He gazed down at the flora beneath him, feeling its soft strokes between his claws. "Don’t assume, my friend. You didn't do anything wrong. It's hard to explain. Your presence is like...sitting under the cool shade on a hot day. Or the warmth of a snowy hot spring. I feel...relief around you. And I don’t want to lose something so precious."

"Tail's not moving at all..."

"Ugh! Forget it!" The king scratched at his scalp as he turned back to his patient-- just missing the way Haarini straightened like a ruler.

"Noted.” She agreed to the unknown, one-sided conversation with every bit of false confidence that she could muster. “Before I head back to our camp and leave you be, can I ask for one more favor? It's nice and painless this time, I promise." She implored.

"Of course." Wukong smiled, looking like he was one slight twitch from passing out in a fit of pain. "Anything for you."

She gently slapped a paw to his cheek, all innocent mannerisms dropping.

"You need to lie down before your injury gets worse."

Sun Wukong blinked slowly, eyes dull and glazed over. “...Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't give me that!" Her touch moved back to his forehead, "Your fever is most likely from an infected wound, as well as exhaustion from so much moving around."

"I'm-- snff-- I'm fi--" He stumbled, rubbing his eyes to clear a dizzy spell. Haarini immediately took the chance to crawl along the king’s back, lifting his robes, and he quickly sobered with a mortified squeak.

"Just as I thought." A puffy gash trailed down his back, blood matting his ginger fur. "For gods' sake, there's still grime stuck in the damn thing!"

Surprise turned to anger, and the immortal whipped his head around. Offense and shock pierced through the langur like arrows. Nonetheless she persisted, circling The Monkey King and toeing the line that could easily yank her down to the bottom layers of Diyu.

"Oh I know your type well." She growled. A silver claw poked him over and over, forcing him to stumble backwards. "Unwilling to admit weakness, unwilling to communicate, unwilling to keep yourself safe because-- despite your strength and cunning-- you believe yourself to be perfect and flawless and never make a single mistake!"

Wukong couldn’t help but flinch in pain as his back hit a tree, pinned to the wall by a single finger.  "And of course immortality is an incredible power to wield, but it’s also completely useless if you spend an eternity unable to walk! So please, for my sake, stop pretending you're so invincible and let me help you already!"

The world paused. Fireflies danced over a pair of flushed faces. And ever-so-slowly, Haarini pulled away. 

"I'm not very good at being subtle, am I?" She moaned, pressing a palm to her head.

"Maybe a little." Wukong trilled, wincing at a searing heat that shot up his spine.

Haarini opened her mouth for another lecture– blinking in surprise when the Monkey King obediently took a seat on a nearby rock. 

"I don't suppose you brought any medicine...with..." He gasped, and Haarini’s paws flew up to her ears before they could burst.

“...ow.” Cracking a cautious eye open, Pilgrim felt a handkerchief press into his lap.

"Maybe let's start with this." Haarini chuckled, whacking his shoulder with a snowy tail. "You need it more than I do."

Her ankle throbbed. She shifted from foot to foot, snowy tail extending as she tried not to fall. But a gentle arm wrapped around her back, and a warm side pressed against her own.

For a body made of boulders, his skin was surprisingly soft.

"If I ask my master for help, will you promise to stay off your feet for a few days?" Wukong smiled sheepishly under half-soaked fabric.

A giggle brushed his ears like swaying wind chimes. 

“We really are a wreck, aren’t we? Ahahaha!” Through her wobbling Haarini returned the favor, pulling her monk ever closer. "Alright, alright. Anything for you."

[mutant-distraction]

Thorny Cricket (Cosmoderus femoralis) from Kamerun

[pile-of-bugs]

Today's bug: Tailless whip scorpion!

Sorry I haven't been active for so long.. anyways I got a new pet today - this female tailless whip scorpion (likely Phrynus whitei), so I'll tell you about them!

Tailless whip scorpions are arachnids in the Order Amblypygi (am-BLIP-idge-eye) and they're quite ancient! They even look a bit prehistoric, I think. There's about 150 species of tailless whip scorpion.

Adapted for crawling around dark forests and cave walls, these arthropods are nearly blind - their simple eyes giving them only vague information, like the level of surrounding light. That's where their loooong 2nd pair of legs come in!

(image source: Wikimedia)

See those long "whips" from which they get their name? Those are for feeling their surroundings. When active, they'll be constantly moving around them around to sense their environment. The whips are very fragile and can break easily, but can be regrown every molt!

(image source: Frank Deschandol on iNaturalist)

Tailless whip scorpions are NOT scorpions, nor are they spiders. And those terrifying front claws aren't legs either - they're heavily modified mouthparts, pedipalps to be precise. Speaking of scorpions, their grabby claws are also their pedipalps! In spiders, these are those cute little appendages right next to the chelicerae (the things that have the fangs).

Unlike both scorpions and spiders, however, a tailless whip scorpion cannot bite or sting. They're almost totally harmless! Practically the posterchild for "don't judge a book by its cover," these are some of the friendliest arachnids in the world. You have to seriously to make one angry (which is basically abuse, so don't do that), and even then they'll only try smacking you with their thorny pedipalps, never biting with their fangs.

About the only truly scary part of handling them (once you get past their appearance) is their speed. These things normally move very slowly (on account of the "blind and has to touch everything" thing), but if startled, they'll bolt in the opposite direction with incredible speed! They really, really would rather not confront you at all. I cannot emphasize enough how completely NOT dangerous these arachnids are, despite their look!

(image source: Jonathan's Jungle Roadshow)

Btw, did you know the mommas make great parents? Like many other large arachnids, the mothers will take their young with them until they're large enough to hunt on their own. They hatch from an egg pouch carried on the underside of the abdomen, which looks absolutely alien - in the source for the above image, you can find pictures of the whole process.

You may have seen this meme ^ Their pedipalps, usually folded up, can also unfold to catch prey or defend themselves (in the original video for this pic, the owner is provoking this reaction - something I don't condone, even if it showcases their grab ability very well). Tailless whip scorpions are carnivores, and the prey they catch are usually small insects like crickets or flies.

Tailless whip scorpions are found in almost every warm, tropical part of the world - Central/South America, Africa, Asia, and even some islands like the Phillipines!

Here's my t.w.s.' habitat. They're very easy pets to take care of! Just make sure you have a habitat that favors verticality - they need to be able to climb to feel at home! Cork board is best, either just on the back, or 2-3 sides of the enclosure. Humidity is a must, so have the base be filled with cocofiber, then add water and perhaps a heating pad set on low to maintain moisture. Moss helps too! All that's left is to feed them - just once or twice a month is enough.

The light on my display is too hot, and heats up the plastic really quickly, so I only use it briefly to find and observe her. They don't actually need light since they're used to being in the dark!

I hope you liked these facts on tailless whip scorpions. If you know more facts, lmk or just add it to the post! I'm still learning things myself - like for example, you can tell males/females apart by the size of their pedipalps (the males have reaaaally long pedipalps, like the one in that meme, the females have much shorter ones).

[thecozykirin]

DWC - Day 5: Spicy

@daily-writing-challenge ( Decided to tackle this story with a Pandaren I've been roleplaying on Epsilon and plan to move over onto retail here soon! ) ( Warning for some s p i c e ) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chirp, chirp, chirp.

The sound of crickets seemed to play in sync with the sweeps of Momoka's broom, as she swept one step at a time of the Jade Serpent's monastery. Though her movements were controlled and flowed in a calm pace, her brow was furrowed in frustration, ears pinned back against her head. "You must know discipline!" Momoka hissed to herself, mocking the head instructor. "I'll show you discipline." she mumbled the last part to herself, ear twitching at the sound of feet claws scraping against the stone of the path. "I just swept there--!" She whipped around, claws gripping the handle of the broom and ready to unleash a verbal reckoning on the one who dared sully her work. And then she saw him.

Li Taiyang, or at least that was the name he had given her. He was unlike any Pandaren she had met before, with unruly fur, coarse paw pads and mismatched fangs, some he had been born with and others he had replaced with shaped metal. The reason why she was doing this. "You!" Momoka's fur immediately stood up, snarling out at the rugged man. "Me." Tai hummed in response, amused. "Good t'see you too." "What are you doing here?!" Momoka demanded. Taiyang shrugged, folded his arms across his chest. "Dunno, reckon Ah'd swing yer way when Ah didn't see ya. Pretty place y'got here." His eyes lingered on the jade that imbued the accents of the temple and the shrines with a look that reminded Momoka of a cat eyeing a fat carp. "You have to leave." Momoka advanced on him, jabbing the tip of the broom against his chest. "I'm in enough trouble as it is because of you." Taiyang snorted at the jab. "Wha? Trouble? Cause of little ol'me?" the edges of his muzzle twitched upwards into an amused grin. "Yes, you!" Momoka hissed. "Keeping me out all night, trying to get me to break my vow --" "Well, tah be frank, hun, Ah'm hardly tryin o'er ere." Taiyang smirked, wrapping his digits around the handle of the broom and abruptly pulling her closer to him. "Ah'm just helpin stoke th'fire that's already lit." Their noses were so close that they almost touched. With a scoff, Momoka shoved herself away from him. "Leave, Tai. Before the instructor comes out to check on me and you get me in more trouble." "Don't reckon y'got tah worry much 'bout tha one, someone was generous enough to roll a whole cask o'er tah their quarters and just...leave it there. Don't reckon th'beer will make it to morning." Momoka paused. "What do you want?" Taiyang decided to press his luck, walking with such confidence towards Momoka that he was chest to chest with her before she could even register the space between them closing. "Ah'm leavin in a few days. Off tah greener pastures, bluer seas." He's leaving. Momoka's expression twitched briefly, her face falling without her even realizing it. "Oh. You've come to say goodbye then?" Taiyang smirked. "Well, that's th'thing. This don't have tah be goodbye, Ah want ya tah come with me." Momoka guffawed at the suggestion. "What? Why?" With a snort, the male shrugged. "Cause Ah like ya." His paw then came up to grip her chin, tilting her head back so their eyes would meet. "And Ah hate tah see ya wither ere." Wither.

Momoka's brow furrowed, yet she made no move to free herself. "What makes you think I'm withering?" Taiyang's brow quirked, idly gesturing to her figure with his eyes. "They don't like thorny bunches in these parts, Ah think y'know that. But in m'humble opinion...unruly flowers are always th'prettiest." The sound of footfalls approaching caused both of their ears to perk, and before Momoka could speak Taiyang had wrenched her to the side, off the path and down a small slope where they stumbled into the brick of one of the monastery's walls. That same instructor who had given Momoka the verbal lashing of her life came out with a lantern held in an old gnarled paw. She watched the old Pandaren kneel down with an annoyed hiss, retrieving the broom and no doubt muttering about her beneath her breath. "Well..." Taiyang's breath ghosted Momoka's ear from behind, causing her to shudder lightly against him. "What's it gonna be, Momo? Ah life o'sugar....or spice?" She could feel his claws idly tracing themselves down her back, and something in her snapped. Fuck it.

Her choice was made with the heated clashing of their muzzles...and the scent of coitus against that wall, but by the time it was found, the two of them would've been long gone.

[lavender-laney]

choking on sea salt snippet

This next chapter is taking longer than expected (mostly because I realized I don't have an actual outline... oops) so here's a little chapter two excerpt I wanted to share in the meantime!

Sadie is sure her responding smile is strained, but she shoulders past it, subtly tucking her hand into her coat pocket in an attempt to stifle the chill that had seemed to migrate from his frigid skin directly into her bones. Oddly enough, he doesn’t move to open the gate, but instead steps into the tall grass, pushing his way through the foliage. Sadie glances back at her car, left sitting before the gate, nearly swallowed by the thick fog, then grips her bag tighter and follows the man into the dark wood.

For a moment, there are only the sounds of the forest – but wrong, somehow. There is the rustle of a salty breeze brushing against the trees, sending goosebumps across Sadie’s skin. There is the crunch of the pairs’ footsteps as they make their way deeper into the thicket of towering pines. As Sadie listens closer, though, there are no crickets, nor the chirping of frogs. No birds pass overhead with whispering feathers, no chipmunks or mice skittering through the undergrowth. No moths flutter past, no lightning bugs float by like paper lanterns. As she stares at the back of Joseph’s tangled hair, and the bow of his shoulders, she feels a sureness in her heart that there are no creatures in this wood besides herself and this strange man. Feeling horribly off-kilter, she stumbles on her next step, thorns snagging in her pants. The sudden grip of Joseph’s hand against her forearm, stabilizing her, is like a frigid wave crashing over her, sending a shock of ice up her arm. She jolts back, nearly falling into the thorny plant, if not for Joseph’s unyielding hold.  “Thank you,” she manages, attempting to pull her arm away. He simply watches her for a moment before his grasp loosens and she can clutch her arm close to her chest. “I’m not really used to … trekking through the woods like this,” she attempts to chuckle, but it comes out shrill and loud, and she’s sure she sounds on the verge of hysteria. “That’s alright,” he says quietly, almost a murmur, sunken eyes locked onto her own shifting gaze. “A nice girl like you ain’t meant to be out here in the elements like this, but it’s the only way into town, I’m afraid.” "What about the gate?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder, though the forest's edge has long since disappeared from sight. As though he did not hear her, he pushes on, shouldering past a low hanging branch. "We're getting close," is all he says.

I promise there will be actual plot soon instead of just ~ spooky vibes ~

tag list (lmk if anyone would like to be added or removed! or if you'd only like to be tagged for complete chapter posts <3)

@megarywrites @at-thezenith @repressed-and-depressed @plasma-studios @wrenofthewords @palebdot @communist-mariner @phantomnations @thelittlestspider @eurydicefades @inkingfireplace @silverslipstream @atreegrowss @i-rove-rock-n-roll @kaze-writes

[aiyexayen]

"A-Xu," Wen Kexing says.

He says it too softly, barely shaping his mouth around a word that's more taste than sound, the precious textures of his zhiji's name given over to the sacred susurrus of the night. There isn't room for an echo in the dense drapery over the bed but he hears it anyway; something lingers behind the distant roar of the river and skips between crickets and cicadas to nestle in the innkeeper's midnight hearth.

It's comforting to give this perfect name to the soft places beyond the bed. Comforting to demand that it be repeated again and again until it becomes as inextricable from the world as it is from Wen Kexing's tangled mess of a heart.

And then, in a wave of twisted anxiety, he becomes jealous.

Finding his own mouth with his hand as thin fabric slips down from his wrist, Wen Kexing acknowledges the continued existence of his face in the dark just so he can press fingertips to the smooth curve of his upper lip.

"A-Xu," he feels himself say again, catching the name this time so it stays with him only. If he holds it tight enough, he can keep it forever.

His next inhale smells like shimmering sunlight on old lacuered wood and the tingle of alcohol before a kiss. His breath is warm on his hand, like a throat is warm against squeezing fingers. He holds tighter to the air in his open palm.

The bed dips and blankets twitch as the figure next to him shifts in his sleep. It is not a thin face that stills every muscle then; Wen Kexing simply falls back on instinct--the greatest joke, after all, the greateat secret, is that the master of ghosts is still just a rabbit with blood in his teeth, tensed in his hidden hollow and ready to bite again.

It's a reflex he doesn't need here but he doesn't pretend it away at this time of night. Instead he counts his breaths until he can hear them and whispers himself a shelter against the chill of his drifting thoughts.

"A-Xu."

This time he is wrapped in the enveloping expanse of the impossibly quiet name like bolts of sky-blue silk: bright, analeptic, nearly as forgiving.

The third call acts as a key to the tight band around his chest--or maybe the slow creep of starlit silhouettes on the pattern of the wall has finally cracked him open. Either way his words get caught on the tail end of his zhiji's name and pulled up out of him in a surge of feeling.

"Isn't it funny," he whispers almost soundlessly to the sleeping room, "that monsters can dream? If nightmares are not allowed for people like us then why does sleep elude me like the golden tail of a fish that turns to thorny branches each time I reach out to catch it with both hands?" He closes his eyes and opens them. Not much is different between the two states. "I cannot sleep but I cannot bear to be awake. How dare I waste any chance to lay by your side?"

Especially now that he knows what it's like to be apart from him. If only laying here separated by the barrier of sleep didn't still feel like its own kind of uncrossable distance.

Wen Kexing sighs. It's louder than he intended and he stills for a bit until the discord he stirred up fades back into the rhythm of the night sounds. It gives him time to think, and he finally says, "...even if you say so, I am not a good person. I would have become one for you, I think, if I had met you in time, but it's too late."

Letting the words touch his lips, however translucent and petal-thin they may be, is a kind of release he would surely never allow in the daylight; even this is an unconscionable lapse, but A-Xu makes him new, makes him care, and the risks are half the fun of the game.

The bed shifts again and Wen Kexing lets out a puff of air as an arm thunks across his middle. A-Xu grumbles something unintelligible.

For a split second adrenaline bubbles at the corners of Wen Kexing's awareness. But, no. He was too quiet to hear.

"Lao Wen," A-Xu murmurs in his ear, soft with sleep of his own.

"A-Xu?"

"Sleep."

The sound of his own name in A-Xu's mouth feels safe, whatever else he feels. The chill of adrenaline fades; the arm holding him is warm.

But he says it one more time. Quieter than any time before. He has to; four is inauspicious, of course.

"A-Xu."

The hand draped at his waist darts up to slap against his mouth, but it's late and A-Xu is lazy. It only makes it halfway, gripping softly to Wen Kexing's jaw to shake him roughly a couple times back and forth. He smiles against the palm, fond. "Haoba," he mouths against it and it returns to settle warm at his hip.

A-Xu is close enough now for Wen Kexing to curl up in his scent and so he does, letting himself be coaxed. It is too late, but not too late at rhe same time. A-Xu is here, and A-Xu loves him, and the sun will rise again tomorrow. He can let that be enough.

Sleep is as hard-won as ever--maybe even more difficult, limbs at odd angles to his body like this. But when it finally comes, Wen Kexing blissfully does not dream.

[can-of-pringles]

assign an insect to each of your OCs!

Third time trying to answer this because Tumblr won't stop freezing! Anyway here we go...

Akani: Frog-legged Leaf Beetle

Kiomi: Bumble Bee

Ruhara: Hickory Tussock Caterpillar

Arline Lanes: Brown Mantidfly

Fox: Baltimore Checkerspot

Beatrice Maddison: Black and Red Blister Beetle

Dannie Karim: Northern Walkingstick

Stick bugs!!

Ryn Halvorsen: Eastern-tailed Blue Butterfly

Silas Petersson: Bumelia Borer Beetle

Pigeon: Pigeon Tremex

Arith: Two-spotted Forester Moth

Iriel: Gold Moth

Kaia: White-striped Black Moth

Odel: Volupial Mint Moth

Eliška Hasek: Fire-colored Beetle

Marigold Rosales: Golden Northern Bumble Bee

Rosie Rosales-Maximoff: Rose Hooktip Moth

Allison Dahir: Soft-winged Flower Beetle

Lee Quinn: Big Poplar Sphinx

Jelaa Latka: Australian Tiger Beetle

Van Kahl: Giant Thorny Cricket because I love their goofy little faces

[swarmcall]

@selunaris sent

with permission granted, she gives him a lil kiss to the cheek!!!

────────────────────────

   𝙻𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 .   unprompted interactions ────────────────────────

     And how badly he got startled by that alone.     Flinching, he almost poured the red liquid over his makeshift desk. A bewildered look, very hardly visible through the thick  &  huge glasses the half-insect wore. Cricket stood there, baffled, trying to find a vocabulary fitting for the occasion   —   at least anything else that wasn't flustered chirping  &  crackingling sounds used in the man's native tongue.

     ❝ What was that   ? ! ❞     Cricket whined. Truth be told, the guy never got acquainted with kisses. The lady's press of lips against his cheek left a strangely warm feeling on the spot. Checking for fluids or marks, his thorny fingers brushed the area prior blessed by her mouth.

     ❝ The bugs outside, not the bug inside . . . ! ❞

[whimsy-wallfish]

{the crickets continued their symphony}

– 10. 18. 23.

twilight draped our bodies in soft purple silk. the cool air caressed our ruddy cheeks as we made our way home from a day's work in the fields. the gentle wind cooled the sweat we had broken, toiling for food for us and for mother -bedridden but all-knowing nonetheless.

crickets had just begun their melodic song, as the sun was setting. the ancient trees shuffled against one another in a soothing rustle that made my eyelids threaten to shut at any moment, an array of orangish hues drafted lazily to the forest floor below. the smell of roses wafted from somewhere, i couldn't tell.

suddenly, what seemed to be an infant cried out an eerie sound, piercing the serene autumn ambience. "whats that?",  i asked you and you didn't even respond. you shot off, in an instant, and left me alone in the encroaching darkness. i was confused, but not concerned. i assumed it was your instinctive caring nature, i assumed it was a baby. I followed you, shouting after. 

i’m sorry, sister, i should have known. i should have pursued you more quickly, shouted “stop!” so much louder.

when i arrived at the small forest clearing, i should have done something other than stare, as your foot crashed down upon the faerie circle, crushing vivid fungi underfoot. i was a moment too late, too paralyzed with dread. the cry stopped abruptly. the fae reveled in their tricks. 

my face sank. that’s ill-advised, i’m sure you knew. our mother cautioned again, and again not to mess with fae, for they are fickle and toy with humans. I recognized fear in your eyes. yes, you knew, but you were not feeling yourself now.

the screech stilled, and sordid silence surrounded us. the space between you and i stretched a thousand acres. not even the crickets made a sound, as if they too knew what would follow.

I tried to form words, make a noise, anything, but nothing came out. i should have stopped them but i just stared, i’m so sorry. i was frozen in place when the fae, an entire swarm, descended from the old oaks like a frightful storm. thousands of the creatures, small, callous. 

you didn’t flee either, though you didn't seem scared like i obviously was. a look of awe illuminated your lovely face when you saw the grotesque fae. you lifted your arms, as if in a trance, and embraced their thorny forms, lifting you in the air, poking at your skin. were you… laughing? 

you were so high up, tattered farm attire billowing vigorously in the wind. i could hardly discern you from the indigo-velvet sky, which soon swallowed the last trace of you. i simply watched, stunned. they're would have been a pit in my chest if I didn't feel as if I was floating too- this couldn't have been real.

the crickets continued their symphony, and i assume i arrived home, eventually, to a mother full of a sensing madness. 

i don't remember much after that, sister. i was in bed a lot for a time. mother could hardly budge me, and when I did move it was only to paste missing posters for you around the town. mother said its pointless, she says your dead, she's seen it in her mind.

i looked for you, sister! i looked for you, and i will keep looking for you, I don't care how much mother tries to soothe me, "sweet shes safe in the sky". i want you alive, and i pray you forgive me.

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

prompt - disappearance + mushroom + glue

𖦹⭒°｡⋆

[messy-gemini1]

A break

A break.

that's all they needed was a damn break.

But this world was not kind to the wicked, no. There would be no breaks for them. not for people who've committed sins such as theirs.

But...

Fate allows only small chances of a break, if you are brave enough to grab it by its thorny vines, as blood drips down your palms and you scream and pull on it...

A lit cigarette sits idly between your fingers, the glowing embers flashing off onto the concrete below. Your shoes are scuffed in blood and dirt, laces undone.

A truck pulls into the driveway, Vincent stepping out with Jonesy in tow. The dog barks happily at seeing your form, trotting happily to lay at your feet.

fingers snapping causes you to look up at your older brother.

'You shouldn't be smoking.' He signs, fingers caked in wax and dried blood. You smile and take a puff of the cigarette, stubbing it out. ' If Bo catches you, he'll throw a fit' he signs once more. Speaking of his twin, here comes Bo stomping his way up the driveway, his hat is off, showing off his wild brown hair.

"What're you two, gossipin' about" he said, sweat is along his brow as he pulls out a cigarette and makes a hand motion for you to hand over his lighter.

he lights the cig between his lips and groans, scooting you with his shoe before plopping himself down on the stairs next to you.

It's quiet, cept for the crickets chirping or Jonesy panting. the air is crisp and cool, a sign that fall is on her way to Ambrose.

"You did good today" Bo speaks up; he was never one to say 'I'm proud of you' but you knew it was his way of saying so.

You send a small smile his way, scabbed knuckles sitting atop your knee.

'Maybe next time don't beat their faces in? makes it hard to wax' Vincent Signs, you only grin. "Sorry, kind of lost control" you say, leaning back on the wooden steps. Bo pops his joints beside you, causing you to grimace at the noise.

A horn honking causes your heads to jolt up, Lesters rust bucket pulling into the driveway. He pops out with a grin.

"who's up for a food outtin" He offers. Your twin brother looks at one another before they shrug. "Fine, but we're takin' my truck" bo says. You smile and jump up, ready to have something hot in your stomach.

"go grab a jacket, I don't wanna hear you complainin about the cold" Bo says, grabbing the back of your shirt as you groan. Vincent shuffles his zip up jacket off his form, holding it out to you. 'here, now lets go, I'm starving' He signs and makes his way to Bo's truck, letting Jonesy into the back seat with you and Lester while he rides shotgun.

The food from the dinner you frequent is like heaven to you, better than Lesters cooking but you don't say that.

You offer to be the one to go inside and order, the boys seemingly tired from today's work as they wave you off with the money and order.

After getting everyone's food, you all sit inside the heated truck, after Bo complains about not getting food everywhere. You smile as you munch on your burger and fries, it's not Everday you get to eat out with your family, so you take it with a grain of salt.

Bo relaxes in his seat, hat tilted over his face, having scarfed his food down like a rabid animal. Vincent is slowly eating his fries, along with whatever was left was Bo's. Lester and you share your food between each other and Jonesy, who sits on the trucks floor.

"Alright, everyone done?" Bo says, sitting up. you all reply and throw your trash away before heading home. You find yourself slumping against the window of the truck, eyes slowly falling close before your body succumbs to sleep.

Only waking up slightly when someone puts you on their back. You can tell its Bo from the way he's cursing and mumbling.

"getting to damn big for this shit" he mumbles, as if trying to not wake you.

You nuzzle into your older brothers back, mumbling before he puts you into your bed, basically throwing you.

"Now go to bed" he says, leaving the room and turning the lights out. You kick your shoes off, slipping out of your grass-stained pants and pulling on a pair of short before you slither back into the comfort of your bed, nuzzling into the pillow.

Your phone buzzes beside you, eyes squinting as you look at the text from Lester.

Lester: 'went home, goodnight lil sis. also took Jonesy with me :) '

You huff when reading that he took Jonsey with him, hoping to use the dog's warmth for your cold feet. You send a quick goodnight text and curl into the bed, nuzzling the pillows before falling asleep.

Even if it was a small break from Ambrose with your brothers, your glad you all took it.