#and it was set at my local sugar bush back home

[ritualslaughter]

I need everyone to know I finally had a dabi dream but I dON'T REMEMBER IT

#i know it was spn au related or something in that vein #and it was set at my local sugar bush back home #and the orange haired guy from haikyuu was there but his name was kenma which i don't think is his actual name #bones.txt

[the-bau-quinjet]

I watched it begin again

Chapter 4 of In Breakable Heaven!

Summary: Reader runs into Spencer again a few weeks later!

Warnings: none

Word Count: ~1800

It was a few weeks later before you ran into Spencer again, literally. You stopped at the grocery store on your way home to pick up some snacks for the binge-watching you were planning for your evening. As you placed the third dessert item in your cart, you turned the corner and ran straight into something- no, someone. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed as you reached for the popcorn you had knocked out of his hands. “Let me get that for you.” As you stood back up, something about the scuff marks on this man’s converse reminded you of someone.

“Hi Y/N.” You finally manage to compose yourself and hand him the popcorn before stuttering out a greeting in return. Spencer glances at your cart before asking, “planning a party?”

  “What? Oh! No, I just had a kind of long day and I wanted to go home and hide from the world while indulging in some sugary treats.” A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you realize you just admitted the multitude of foods in your cart are in fact all for you. “I couldn’t decide what to get, so I figured a little bit of everything would solve the problem.” You laughed awkwardly as you try to explain your cart. It looks as though a three year old had free rein.

  “Trust me, I understand.” Spencer laughed with you. “I always have something sweet nearby. I am definitely known to have a sweet tooth.”

  “Oh, well would you care to join me?” You instantly froze when you realized what you said. You aren’t normally so forward. “I could use a friend.” You add on in hopes of diffusing the growing tension.

  “Um, yeah I’ll, uh, I’ll join you.” Spencer is rubbing the back of his neck as you begin walking through the store.

  “Great! You can pick the ice cream flavor!” You turned and started walking before you could come up with something even more awkward to say.

  You pick out a few more sweet treats before paying for your groceries and heading to your car. Spencer says he will meet you at your place after he helps you load the groceries into the trunk.

15 minutes later, you’ve returned home and put the groceries that need to be kept cold away. You move everything else to the coffee table so you and Spencer can reach whatever you want easily.

  You are reaching up to get some bowls for the ice cream when you hear a knock on your door. You glance through the peephole just to make sure it is Spencer before swinging the door open with a grin. “Welcome to the sweetest apartment in the building!” The two of you laugh as you close and lock the door.

  “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” You aren’t sure what to say now that he’s actually in your apartment. You don’t have the same barriers you had last time. You are both perfectly sober and neither one of you just went through a massive breakup. “Yeah, sure”

  “Got any preference?” You ask as you look through the available movies on Netflix and Hulu. “Oh, uh, no you can pick.” Great, you hate making decisions.

  After a slightly awkward few minutes filled with overanalyzing your movie choices, you finally decide on Mr. and Mrs. Smith because it had a bit of a comedy, action, and romance. “Well, dig in!” You don’t know how else to start the conversation as you rip open a zebra cake, offering Spencer the second one in the bag. He smiles at you as he takes it, easing the tension in the room.

  You fall into a comfortable silence as you both watch the movie. You find yourself sneaking glances at Spencer whenever you really want to see his reaction to a certain scene. You can’t really tell if he’s enjoying it, but he has laughed a few times.

  A half hour into the movie, you decide you want some ice cream. “I’m going to go change and grab some ice cream. Want any?”

  “Oh, yes please” Spencer sounds slightly surprised at your sudden question, but you just walk into your room to find some pajamas. You slip on some shorts and a t-shirt pulling on a pair of fluffy socks as you make your way back into the kitchen to get the ice cream. You decide just to bring the two bowls, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and sprinkles with you so Spencer can add his own toppings.

  You somehow manage to balance everything as you walk back over to the couch. You are so focused on not dropping the sprinkles that you don’t notice Spencer has been staring at you since you exited your room. He blinks a few times as you set down the toppings exclaiming “it’s a build your own Sunday bar” as you hand him a bowl and a spoon. You sit back down on the couch, closer than before since you need to reach the toppings.

  “Can you pass me the whipped cream?” Butterflies form in your stomach as your hand brushes his.

  “Whipped cream as we know it today was invented by Charles Getz in the 1930s. Of course, hand whipped cream can be dated back to the 16th century. They would use tree or bush branches as a whisk to incorporate air into the cream.” You could listen to Spencer ramble for the rest of your life.

  You smile at him while you squirt enough whipped cream to completely cover the ice cream and then some. You look up to see Spencer staring. Quickly, you look away and hand him the whipped cream. “Sorry, I just really like whipped cream.”

  “No, you don’t need to apologize! I’m just happy.” A confused look forms on your face as you look back, urging him to continue. “I, uh, I’m just glad you feel comfortable enough to be yourself with me. Most people wouldn’t have even admitted this was their plan for the night. I’m happy that you invited me to join you. I absolutely love sugar.”

  “I’m happy that you’re here too. Who else would provide me with unending knowledge about all the sugary treats?” You laugh as you grab the whipped cream, pointing it at him like a weapon. “Now, tell me who invented chocolate or prepare for the consequences!”

  Spencer puts his hands up in mock surrender as he rambles on about chocolate. “Chocolate dates back to 450 B.C.. The Aztecs believed that cacao seeds were the gift of Quetzalcoatl, the god of wisdom, and the seeds once had so much value that they were used as a form of currency. Originally prepared only as a drink, chocolate was served as a bitter liquid, mixed with spices or corn puree. It was believed to be an aphrodisiac and to give the drinker strength. Today, such drinks are also known as "Chilate" and are made by locals in the South of Mexico. After its arrival to Europe in the sixteenth century, sugar was added and it became popular throughout society, first among the ruling classes and then among the common people. In the 20th century, chocolate was considered essential in the rations of United States soldiers during war.” He finished his ramble with a slight smile and a nod.

  You are so taken with his ramblings that you can’t form a response. In a panic, you decide to spray him anyway. Whipped cream goes flying all over the place as he flails in surprise. “Gotcha!” You shriek as he grabs the can and turns it on you. “Not fair, I answered your question! Now you have to answer mine.” He stops to think for a second before asking, “What language is the word dessert derived from?”

  “Now that’s not fair! You are a literal genius. I run a book store.” Spencer laughs at your feeble attempt to protest. “Just answer the question.”

  “Fine, ummmm, Latin?” You are completely guessing and by the smirk growing on his face, you are not correct.

  “Nope.” He says popping the p. “French!” You grins even wider as he sprays the whipped cream, landing some on your face despite you trying to block it with your hands.

  “Damn, I guess this is only fair.” You say rolling your eyes. He just stares at you in response, his mouth falling open just enough to be noticeable. Right as you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, he reaches over and brushes the whipped cream off your face. Before he can reach a napkin, you grab his hand. Pulling it toward you, you wrap your mouth around his fingers, licking all the whipped cream.

You have no idea what possessed you to do that, but instantly you are trying to back track. “Can’t waste any whipped cream!” The two of you had gotten much closer together throughout your whipped cream battle. Close enough that you can look into his warm hazel eyes. 

He leans closer whispering “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Something in his voice spurs you on. You whisper back “you have some on your nose.”

  Leaning impossibly closer, in an uncharacteristic show of bravery he replies “you better take care of that seeing as it’s your fault” in an equally hushed tone. 

You reach up and steady his face with your hands, leaning in to lick the whipped cream off his nose with a slight kiss. Your face flushes as you look into his eyes. You don’t know if you’re moving or he is but you are shifting closer and closer.  

  The sound of explosions break the moment as you both jump back and shift your gaze to the television. “You know, neither one of these two would make a good profiler if they couldn’t tell that their spouse was an assassin.” You laugh at how matter-of-fact that statement was, the moment on the couch drifting to the back of your mind.

  “You’re probably right.” You don’t know what to do with your hands anymore, so you pick up your ice cream. He pulls you back onto the couch and the two of you lean into each other as you eat and finish the movie.

  Two hours later, the two of you are falling asleep on the couch. After the movie ended, you put on random episodes of Parks and Rec. You finished eating and turned off the lights about 45 minutes ago under the ruse that you can see the tv better without the lights. You’ve been talking to each other pretty much nonstop as the episodes play in the background. Nothing too big, just random information about your lives. Your eyes fall shut, yet again, encouraging you to go to bed, but you don’t want the night to end. He seems to feel the same way, and the two of you fall asleep on the couch wrapped up in each other’s arms.

 tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets15 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

[ratsoh-writes]

Oh man I got another one- say everyone is monster hunting (like Bigfoot or mothman- whatever you like) who’s the one who hears a sound and just books it? Anyone have a fight reaction and start swinging? AKSKJFJAJDH WHOS THE ONE TO TRY TO RUN AFTER IT WITH THE CAMERA ALL UP IN ITS BUISNESS AKSKJDJSJS

I don’t know how you want to format this- so if you just want to put them under categories- superb; longer version? Dealer’s choice

Here’s how everyone reacts/roles during monster hunting:

Sans: in a monster hunt, he’s the guy who stays in the van to “keep watch” on all the electronics. Instead sans falls asleep of course and misses all the action. His team could straight up see a ghost and he won’t believe them lol

Papyrus: he’s more likely to go Bigfoot hunting then ghost hunting. And for some reason papyrus brought a metal detector like that’ll help? It doesn’t but he also found two dollars in lost coins so he counts it as a win.

Star: he uses superglue to line a butterfly net with salt to catch the demons in. It doubles as a blunt weapon if they fight back.

Honey: he’ll break off from the group and wind up getting lost in the woods. He’s the guy who actually meets moth man and gets directions back to the campsite from him. It’s not till days later that honey realizes that moth man wasn’t actually another monster from the underground

Red: he also stays in the van, except red is watching those radios like a hawk. He’ll be extremely disappointed and relieved if nothing happens.

Edge: he calls everyone else an idiot for going monster hunting, but winds up leading the group instead because no one else is qualified enough for it. Every sound edge hears is just a raccoon. There’s no other explanation and you can’t convince him otherwise.

Mal: he decided to wear all silver jewelry today just in case! No vampire is taking a chunk out of mal! Plus this is his sharp set of rings so it doubles as a shank.

Cash: he’s the one who breaks from the group and then terrorizes them with mysterious noises and throwing pinecones. Until something grabs cash’s shoulder, and when he turns, there’s no one there. Now he’s sprinting home.

Oak: out of everyone he’s the most likely to get possessed. Oak will freeze, loose the red eye-light, and utter some creepy-a*s prophecy before coming to. Then he just keeps walking. He didn’t even notice lol

Willow: he’s not taking this seriously and will be enjoying his nature walk until his brother gets possessed. Now willow is taking it very seriously. And they’re leaving Right. Now. Heaven help the ghost if they try that crap again. Willow will exorcise them.

Charm: he really really really hopes they find a vampire. A vampire hickey would be the ultimate trophy!! But if the vampire is a jerk, charm can always throw the garlic salt he bought at Walmart at them.

Sugar: he genuinely does not want to be here, but someone’s gotta keep charm alive. Besides, call him racist, but sugar isn’t comfortable with a vampire getting cosy with his brother. A werewolf is fine though.

Lord: he genuinely does not want to be here, but once again wine and mal have dragged lord into the strangest kind of trouble. Sneaking into a government building is more expected by him than monster hunting. Oh well, at least he knows wine is the monster guru. If they ever find one he’ll know what to do.

Mutt: he came into the forest with friends to find Bigfoot, but left with four baby raccoons. Mutt is praying to the stars that lord will let him keep them.

Wine: HE IS READY. Wine was made for this day!!! He already has survival kits, flashlights, a bible and silver cross, extra batteries in case the flashlights go out, and like 30 disposable cameras. If anyone is going to find a cryptid it’ll be him!

Coffee: he was the one to scare cash. Cash was bugging the old lady squad, and coffee didn’t want his brother to get mad at his friend. Plus it’s always fun to get one on the other prankster.

Pop: he takes to the trees. But unlike in movies, the tree branches move a lot each time pop jumps on one. With all the racket he’s making, no wonder he never gets to meet mothman.

Rhythm: it only takes one loud noise for rhythm to run all the way back home. He’s too easily spooked. You might want to pick someone else for this.

Pluto: he doesn’t believe in the supernatural at all, but pluto does believe in science! He brings a pocket guide on local rocks and plants and will turn the monster hunt into a lovely treasure hunt. He finds a pretty quarts right add to his collection

Jupiter: he’ll take to the sky as his buddies walk. If there’s anyone Jupiter is the most likely to go monster hunting with, it’s Star. Both of them have almost endless energy which can be a problem. They end up exploring too far and will be exhausted by the time they circle back.

Peaches: he’s very superstitious and definitely believes in ghosts and such. And ghosts terrify peaches. He’ll be hanging off of ranchers arm all evening. If anything pops out of the bushes, peaches will shout and start running.

Rancher: he’s ready. Rancher is equipped with a metal rod, his shotgun, his most aggressive pig, and some salt and garlic to make peaches feel better. Rancher is gonna find that thieving coyote if it’s the last thing he does.

G: he likes to tell people that he’s met ghosts during his late night drives. In reality, they were the drunk college kids who party in the woods, but ghosts make a cooler story. G is unphasable and will have a grand time telling scary stories during the hunt to rile up his teammates.

Green: he’ll absolutely refuse to go cryptid hinting in the woods. Not because of ghosts or Bigfoot. No, green isn’t scared of those at all. You see, it’s the spiders. If he walks into a spider web he’ll literally die. Green is a total arachnophobe

Snipe: occasionally Don will kick snipe out to go on a manhunt so he can get some fresh air. He usually takes butch with him on these because ace is a jerk who likes playing mind games. He’ll always convince snipe that there’s a ghost about. Anyways snipe doesn’t like ghosts

Bruiser: he’s super down to go cryptid hunting until he hears it’s in the forest. You see, bruise knows the city like the back of his hand, but the forest is uncharted territory. Bruiser will be super clumsy and steadily more and more frustrated as the night goes on. If he actually meets a cryptid, he’s real likely to fist fight it right now

Ace: he loves ghost stories and the supernatural. I’f ace was invited on a ghost hunt, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from scaring everyone else with his creepy stories lol.

Slim: as the only papyrus who can shortcut, slim loves to use and abuse that privilege. And use it he does. The second he hears a suspicious noice, slim is grabbing his favorite group member and blipping away. This is a good way to tell if you’re the favorite friend. If it was between his brothers, he would save boss

Butch: he ain’t afraid of no ghost!! Ghosts are just floating souls right? Then all he has to do is grab them with blue magic and yeet them right back into the afterlife. Butch is disappointed in everyone who hasn’t thought of this yet.

Boss: oh hell naw. Boss absolutely is terrified cannot stand all this talk about things that don’t exist! He’ll be staying right here until you guys start to come crawling back.

.........

Maybe on second thought he better come with. You guys might get mugged or something. As a leader he has to protect his friends of course!

Rust: and chance some creepy pedo ghost trying to haunt his daycare. No thank you!

Noir: rust never pulls the big brother card, but if noir started messing with the supernatural, you bet he would. Besides noir is more then happy to play the “my legs hurt” card that get out of it. Monster hunting isn’t really his thing.

Lilac: he so very wants to keep up with Star and Jupiter, but there are some things lilac can’t do with his prosthetic leg. It would be too dangerous. Instead he mans the campsite, keeping watch for any suspicious activity and the cops.

Basil: the supernatural is one thing that basil has zero fear of or belief in. He’ll come, and just to be annoying he brings backups of everything. Flashlight keeps going out? He’s got two more and extra packs of batteries. Strange animal noises? Let’s see them make that after his dog whistle. Getting colder? Basil is ready for extra scarves for everyone

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #undertale #underswap #underfell #swapfell #horrortale #underlust #fellswap red #fellswap gold #dancetale #outertale #farmtale #gastertale #mafiatale #mafiafell #mafiaswap #horrorfell #horrorswap

[duskyskz]

Blueberry Claws - H.H.J

Warnings - Halloween Au, mentioned assault, choking, Hyunjin!Dom mild tones, slight violence

Word Count - 4.7K

A/N - ahaha this .. turned out way longer than I meant to ohno I'm sorry Hyunjin had my heart in a vice grip lately

Part of @nightshade-minho and @mini-meanhoe 's Halloween collab!

*********************************

Elbow deep in ruddy earth, you kneel among the undergrowth of your garden, plucking away stray roots and weeds. It’s not your favourite part of the day, but you pride yourself in the exquisite berries your growth produces, and adequate sunlight is a must in bringing the sweetest fruits. Autumnal chills creep down your spine, warning you of setting sun and cooler nights looming over the forest horizon. It is a quaint little house, settled carefully between the curve of the river and the forest border, a hat’s toss away from the village settlement, and you enjoy it that way - far away enough for privacy and undisturbed peace, yet not isolated enough to be unreachable and dreary. 

People weren't the only viable company, anyway. Your neighbors came in the form of passing badgers rummaging through your compost, squirrels and mice poking their noses through cracks in your windowsill while you bake, the sweet smell of sugar and jams luring in a furry audience you felt obliged to entertain, tossing crumbs and peels into the open yard. 

“Croak!” 

You raise your head away from the mud at the screech, glancing upward. 

“Hello.” You greet your most recent visitor. The magpie quickly climbed upon your friendlist, introducing itself with a persistent knock of its beak against your poor kitchen windowpane. It came back the next evening, and the one after that, never missing more than a day in it’s routine to rob you of your pie crusts. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Croak!” You suppose that’s a yes, considering the intensity with which the bird stares down at your precious blueberries. 

“Come on, then. Lunch wouldn’t hurt me, either.” 

***

“Can you believe that - that witch!” You stomp along the pavement to your front door, slamming it open. “The audacity to even imply my pies are anything but organic!”

Positively fuming, you don't entertain the absurdity of venting your frustrations to a corvid. At times, you think to yourself the little blackbird almost understands you - head tilting in accordance with your words, nodding when appropriate and watching your dutifully as if awaiting continuation. 

Then it’s attention switches from your wild gesticulations to the fresh batch of muffins cooling on your counter, and your suspicions of a higher intelligence disappears, leaving you to sweep cake crumbs off it’s feathers. No, plunging neck-deep into hot cake is not wise, you’d point out later. 

***

Maybe the loneliness does get to you after all. It’s a little embarrassing to admit how reliant you become on the magpie’s company. Its’ shrill croaks and glassy eyes became a comfort to you, a presence your day no longer felt complete without. Brushing your fingertips over the delicate feathers on its back, you rest your chin on your other palm. 

“It’s a dreary winter coming, birdie.” You muse, humming at the overcast sky. Masses of grey and washed out blues tumblr over the hills, warning you of approaching snows and rains. “I should fix the roof hatching tomorrow morning - be a shame to freeze my toes off before the solstice, wouldn’t it?” 

 The magpie doesn’t reply, and you don’t expect it to, but the slow blinks as you speak convince you your words don’t fall on deaf ears. 

“As long as I don’t have someone warming my bed, I better do all the warming myself.” Springin to your feet, you set to work on tidying the front yard. 

“Would you care to join me to fetch new hay for the roof tomorrow?” 

Your unconventional companion opens his beak, groaning. Then it snaps down into the ground, impaling one of your finest strawberries. 

Ah, well. 

You can only guess what a magpie must tend to in a day - you weren’t about to keep it from important bird tasks.

***

Your window panes quiver with the force of the hurricane, creaking sadly in their wooden frames. You have no idea what time it could possibly be, but judging by the time already passed since sundown, it’s way into the late night. Dismorphed figures haunt the outside, shadows passing over your bedroom like a predator, and you burrow deeper under your covers. Of course, approaching winter was harsh. In the hillside, mountain winds rolled down rocky foundations to crash into your humble home with rapid force. Turning onto your side, you press your head against the pillow to mute the whistle of the wind through your thin walls. You’d patched the roof last week - but you had yet to insulate the walls fresh, and chills made themselves known through cracks and gaps in last year’s worn overlay. 

With a soul-crushing snap, your window is thrown open as the lock gives way to hurricane, two fragile glass planes whipping open into the dead of night as you curse your luck and scramble out of bed to grasp the handles before they’re torn off entirely.

Yet something past the glass grabs your gaze before you can pull them shut, petrifying you in place. You don’t know if it’s the rain freezing your feet to the ground, or the unfiltered terror, but you can’t even scream as your eyes meet the vividly yellow ones across your garden.

Hunched above your blueberry bush, in a cloak of pitch black, stands a creature you’ve only seen in manic sketches in the village hall prior to tonight. Its’ spine seems bent, somehow, too long and too skewerd to fit precisely in its body, leaving two lumps protruding from its back. In a pale face, boxed in by wisps of black, you can only focus on two luminous eyes, zeroing in on your figure with far too much attention for your liking. 

In its knifed claws it grips a branch of your favourite plant, mangled and weeping blueberry juice onto the dirt. Maroon splatters blot the beast’s face, but you don’t gaze long enough to separate fruit from the blood of some poor soul. 

Maybe your blood will be next on its beak. 

Yanking the window shut, you tumble into your bed, curling as tight as you can into the duvet, shielding your head. Maybe it’ll go away if you don’t make noise, holding your hands to your ears. 

Maybe it’ll just go away.

***

It’s been three days since the storm, and coincidentally, three day since you’ve last seen your closest friend. Really, mayhaps this was a sign your friendship should extend elsewhere, and not the local corvid populace. Shovelling pastries into your hamper, you venture out into the open air for the first time since that night.

You’re still unable to clean the wreckage in your front yard. Somehow, the thought of laying your hands on the same branches that unknown horror touched fills you with dread, and you can’t bring yourself to rid the leftover mess. You had enough jams and preserves stockpiled to last you the whole winter if need be - if you weren’t financially obliged to sell most of them, anyway. 

Fitting yourself with a scarf to guard from temperamental weather, you wrap the wool tightly up to your nose as the first leaves fall from the oaks beside you. 

You love your town, you really do. 

The whimsy of nearby streams rolling over lustrous green fields is a wonder to wake up to every morning, and the walk into town is always a pleasant meander under centuries-old oaks and pine trees, spying on the conversations of woodpeckers and crows.

Yet, among all the commotion, you find yourself missing one particular croak. Never quite the same elegant cry as the other birds, but particular and endearing in its own right. 

And entirely missing from your life for half a week.

Passing the stone gates, you keep to the right of the road to make space for idle carts and horses wandering the streets. Carefully, you unload all your stock onto the market table - this stand has your name carved into the wooden leg, and you pride yourself on being a regular enough attendant to warrant a reserved place. 

The day flurries by you in a mess of clinking jam jars and passing coins. Afternoon had already set in a while ago, traversing into the evening by the time you begin wrapping up your last sale. Bidding goodbye to the market staff, you hoist your (significantly lighter) basket over your forearm, leaving the town square. It’s not dark yet, bare wisps of the night inking over your head as the sun lowers over the woods, letting you lose your train of thought in the scenery.

You feel the last pricks of stress leave you as your thoughts drift to the hallowing creature from nights ago. Perhaps your mind, in its hazy and exhausted stade, played up the vivid shadows and reflections in the moonlight? Yes, surely. There’s no way an animal this size and fright roamed your woods unacknowledged - The only terror you knew was the fabled warlock, but nobody has seen his face in decades. You weren’t even sure what he looked like. All tales of warlocks the library gave you marked them as haunted men, selling their soul for mastery of dark arts, giving up their limbs for a hint of inhuman power. Some had horns, you’d read. Some, a devilish tail winding between their legs, while some gave up their own eyes and replaced them with animal counterparts for better senses. 

It scared you more than you’d like to admit, the more you entertained the possibility of a being so twisted hiding in the depths of your woods - but was Hwang Hyunjin even real, or a figment of townsfolk imagination? 

Entangled in your own head, you fail to notice the arm lashing out to grab your elbow and yank you violently sideways, slamming your back into the brick wall between two buildings. 

“Ouch!” You rasp out, catching your breath, but your scream is broken by the hand quickly winding around your throat.

Great, after a shitty week you were going to get robbed, too! 

“Don't you try open your mouth again, you little bitch.” A coarse voice hissed against your cheek. You tried to reel away from the terrible stench of his breath, but with your back against the wallside, it was impossible to weasel out. “Made quite a pretty penny at the market today, didn’t ya?”

A large, cold hand snuck down your waist, over the ribbons tying your corset shut, and you were sure you’d retch when clammy fingers started tugging at the knot. 

“Where are you hiding it, then? Down your vest?” One sharp pull leaves your corset flying open, exposing your skin to freezing night air, shielded only by a thin undershirt. You try to shake your head, but the hold on your neck makes it impossible to even curse. “That’s a bit thin, isn’t it? Not much to hide under such flimsy fabric -”

“Shit!”

You heave in a breath as the tightness around your throat suddenly wanes, disappearing, and all weight lifts from you. Eyes watering from the lack of oxygen, you blink rapidly to clear your vision, stumbling back as you find focus. 

Shrill cries tear from your assailant, angry red oozing from the gash above his left eye, arms flailing maniacally to chase away the blur of feathers thrashing around his head. Slinking down to catch your breath, you pull your knees to your chest to steady your breathing, though the scene before you grows more gruesome every time you blink. 

You can’t tear your eyes away, even as the bird dives down again, embedding its razor claws in the man’s eye socket. The screams are terrifying, but you don’t have the thought to wonder how no one else came to check the commotion. 

Maybe nobody wanted to.

In muted horror, you watch as the man finally lands a hit, thrashing the tiny bird into the wall opposite with a numbing crack, spinning on his heel to face you once more, though his one eye struggles to find your face. He stumbles forward, lurching in your direction, drops of fresh blood flying at your feet.

“What are you, a witch? I should burn you alive -”

Smack!

You’re sure you’re hallucinating as he topples to the pavement, struck by a surprise force. Hunched over him, in a flurry of black feather, sits a mass you know  you’ve seen before. For a moment you think, another bird? A whole flock? But then the feathered cape shifts, raises, and you realise it’s one pair of  heavy-set wings protruding from a broad back, arms poised to strike over and over at a target long void of defense. You feel sick - everything that unravelled in the last few moments makes your stomach churn, and you vomit onto the floor between your feet. You can’t watch the blood any longer, listen to the crunching sound of tendons snapping and bone breaking, rolling over as you feel your legs give way to jelly.

***

You can feel yourself swaying, gently. You don’t feel the ground, but you know you’re moving, head balanced on something pillowy and warm, but still solid - what a weird combination. 

There’s something holding you up by your legs, and another clutching onto your back. You have half the mind to open your eyes when you’re coherent enough to, knowing you should be alarmed given the situation you just vaguely avoided. But this is nice. Your lift your eyelids barely enough to take in your position, head propped carefully on a shoulder. You can’t see much beyond the collarbone your nose is tucked into without outing yourself as awake, so you settle for breathing in deep, lulling your nerves with the scent of ash and fern. It's safe, comforting somehow, in a way you’ve never felt comforted in. Your forehead grazes his cheek, tips of his dark hair tickling your skin as you heave out a sigh and press your face deeper against the warmth. 

“I’m sorry I left you, Birdie.”

His voice is gentle, too. You let it ring in your head, soft whispers and words you can't quite decipher but appreciate nonetheless lulling you back into shallow sleep. You recognise your surroundings by the shift of light, stepping out from the tree canopy into wide hillside, catching last rays of sunlight. 

You think he’s going to wake you and ask for a key, but your front door grants him access with just a single flick of his wrist under your knee. You’ll have to ask him about that later.

Nudging his way inside, ducking to fit past the low doorframe, your saviour swiftly marches to your bedroom, confirming your suspicions. The layout of your house was entirely too familiar to him for it to be the first time he’s visited the premises. Or the second, if you count the night visit three days back. When he lowers you onto the mattress, it's with such care your heart skips in your chest, and you pray he doesn’t hear it stop entirely when you feel his fingertips brush over your shoulder to pull the blankets over you, strong arms straining under his shirt as he moves your head from his shoulder and you immediately miss the heat. There’s a cup of water by your bedside that wasn’t there before, and when satisfied with your placement, he steps away. Your eyes blink open fully when you feel his presence leave your side. 

“Are you leaving?” Your voice sounds small even to you. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me around.” He answers after a hesitant pause, kneeling by your bed. “You - You looked really scared that night. I never want you to be scared of me.” 

You sit up, reaching for the glass of water which he swiftly passes to you to soothe your throat and wash out remaining bile. Your skin still burns in the places that asshole touched you, and you hiss when your fingers rub the sore spots on your neck, before a larger hand wraps around your palm, bringing it down to glare at the bruise.

“I won’t apologize for what happened to him, though.” The venom in his voice makes you still. “That filth got what he deserved - I should have taken his other eye, too.” 

“...Is he dead?” You’re not sure you should ask.

“No. I left him breathing, but I can’t guarantee someone will find him in time.” 

“You left him blind, that’s enough Hyunjin.” His head snaps up at the name, as if he didn’t expect the confrontation. “You’re the magpie that’s been visiting my garden this summer, aren’t you? You’re the fabled terror in our woods.”

You say the last part with a smile, but the warlock  lowers his head still, glancing down at the blanket curving over your hips.

“....Yeah.” He mumbles, observing the many silver rings at his knuckles. “Is that too much for you?”

“What do you mean?” You scrunch your nose, confused, when he doesn’t elaborate. 

“At first I just came to visit because of the garden, but every time you saw me you’d talk to me like I was a person - Like I could understand. And I know you talk to the others too, like that ugly goose -” You want to scold him for calling Truffles ugly, but he carries on without pause. “But in my head it was just, nice. Even if I couldn’t reply, whenever you speak, there’s no darkness in me. Nothing but you.”

Hyunjin frowns, not wanting to meet your eyes yet. His hand grips the edge of your duvet, straining the fabric as his wings twitch.

“I was so fucking mad at myself when you saw me. You looked so small, so petrified - and of me. And as much as I wanted to take you into my arms and reassure you I couldn’t.” 

You can’t deny it, you were scared then. But knowing the man before you now, the events of today and the large part thunder and your own exhaustion played into your fear that night, you felt none of the apprehension now, resting your hand atop his shaking ones. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t want to see me again, if you’d guessed what I was after that. So I let you be, watching from a distance, because I couldn’t bring myself to let go completely. And today, fuck -” He runs a clawed hand through his locks, pushing hair out of his face to finally look at you, golden eyes rooting you to your spot. “I should have snapped both his legs for even thinking to touch you.”

“But maybe that’s my own vice.” You watch soft pink lips form words you’re not sure are real. They could have been your own imagination, for how quietly he speaks. “Maybe my love would be too much for you.” 

The silence that follows his confession is crushing to both of you, for entirely different reasons. 

You barely wrap your head around the idea of being loved by him before he pulls his hand away from yours, accepting rejection he knew was coming. It’s not until he stands that you breathe in, catching the edge of his jacket before he can leave you again.

“It’s not.” You state. “It’s not too much.”

You hope he doesn’t mistake the quiver in your voice for doubt, because you’ve never been so sure of something in your life. 

“Do you mean that?” The hopeful lilt to his voice sparks your heart alight, he’s at your side in seconds, long feathers sweeping the floor below his feet as he moves. “Are you sure you want me the same way I want you?”

“I do.”

You nod to reassure him, sliding further down the bed to make space for his larger frame. Hyunjin slinks in next to you, crawling over to hover above you, taking in the way you look finally beneath him. His feathers block out most light, sun long set. You can barely see, but before you can complain about missing his ethereal beauty, a candle flickers alight by your window, and another on your bedside table. Another, and yet one more afterward, until your bedroom filters in a warming glow from a dozen shy fires. 

Ah, warlock things. 

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin hesitates still, lips stopping millimeters away from yours as the last strings of hesitation cling to his thoughts until you urge him to move. “You can touch me.”

His lips are warmer than anything you’ve ever felt, moving over your mouth like fine malt wine. There’s a quiver in his hands when he brings a palm down to cradle your cheek, running his thumb over the smooth skin as his tongue runs over your teeth. 

You don’t notice your legs spreading open to allow him between your thighs until his knee bumps against your core, bundling your skirts in his fist to pull them down and off. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to have you under me like that, birdie.” Hyunjin whispers. “All for me, at my mercy - you look so good like that.”

The irony of him using your own nickname for him on you is lost in the moment you arch your back into his touch, pressing your still corseted chest against his palm. Every place he touches has you needing more of him, every part you can reach. 

“Undress me, please.” 

“Gladly.” Nimble fingers pluck the bow of your shirt open, lifting it over your head. In the cocoon of his wings and candle light, you feel a love you’ve never known before. Discarding his own shirt next, you hardly have a moment to take in the exquisite expanse of his chest before your field of vision is taken up with glimmering navy feathers, Hyunjin’s head dipping to swirl his tongue over your nipple. Your grip in his hair makes him keen against your chest, groaning over the sensitive flesh between his teeth.

“Are you - You’re a virgin?” The idea of him being the first to make you feel so open, the only person to see you react to such intimate touch gets him harder than Hyunjin thought possible. 

“Ah, yeah…” You nod. Were your reactions so telling? You suddenly felt even smaller, caged between his arms and the pillows, watching his tamarind eyes flicker.

“I’ll love you well, birdie. Don’t worry.” He blows cool air onto your damp bud and you feel like crying. One hand leaves the space by your head, pinching your other peak. At first gently, testing how far he could push your limits to get you melting at his touch, then harder when you moan at the slight burn. 

Your hips rise to rub against his thigh, unknowingly seeking out friction to aid the dampness gathering in your underwear. His hand meets you there, slipping a finger under the band of your panties to snap it against your skin for your impatience, and you still immediately, recognising his dominance even without prior warning. 

“Be good and wait. If I own you, I’m taking my time with you.” There’s a hard edge in his voice, something about the empty threat makes you want to push his buttons until he snaps. 

You don’t need to wait much longer.

Ridding you of the last scrap of clothing you had left, Hyunjin has you bare and displayed, every part on show and within his reach. Slower than you can take, he drags his thumb on the inside of your thigh, kissing and nibbling the delicate skin just inches away from your dripping cunt. When his thumb finally, finally rubs a circle against your clit you whine his name so loud he nearly bites down hard. Still, he holds his pace, pressing his thumb in patient patterns against your nub as his teeth mark up your thighs.

“Jinnie, go harder, please.”

You know you fucked up when he glances up at you, brows quirking in amusement. 

“I said I’ll take care of you, y/n. If you want to cum, lay there and take it.”

You’re thankful he has a shred of mercy for your sanity, because your pleas seem to have a marginal effect on his movement. 

You eat your words when Hyunjin forces two fingers inside your already wet slit, scissoring you open with harsh flicks of his wrist. His lips remain stuck to your clit, and the sudden assault on your senses has tears rushing down your cheeks.

“W-Wait! Hyun, wait, I don’t want to cum yet!” You don’t really believe he’ll listen.

“Don’t you? But I thought you wanted me to hurry, birdie?” The mockery in his voice makes you clench, and you’d flush if you weren’t so close to orgasm. “For someone not ruined before, you beg for a dick so well.”

“No...Not yet, I wanna cum on you, please.” 

Hyunjin can resist many things - spells, curses. Killing a man on multiple occasions. 

Your whimpering voice as you beg for him to take your virginity in your own bed, wrapped around his fingers and blushing from his tongue is not one of those things. 

“Fuck, okay.”

Pulling his fingers out, your lips part at the emptiness, but your nerves prickle with knowledge of what awaits you next. Hyunjin is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, sweat dampening his forehead and eyes peering right into your heart whenever your gazes meet. You’re hypnotised by the way muscles in his back tense when he kneels between your thighs, urging you to open up for his fit. You only catch the briefest sight of his length, but it’s enough to make you gasp in anticipation at the size and thickness of his base. 

“You’re sure you want me?” Your legs wrap around his waist as he asks, not yet penetrating you, only resting his length on your slick core. 

“I want you more than anything I’ve ever dreamed of, Hyunjin.” You channel all your love and trust into your words, daring yourself to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. 

Feeling the stretch of him is euphoric, inch by inch, more than any discomfort could hope to reach. Your focus on the flex of his forearm propping him up beside your head, the tantalizing way his mouth curls in a moan of your name when he bottoms out, placing his seal on you completely. 

“Tell me when I can move, alright?” 

“N-Now, you can move. Please move.” You’re gonna go insane if he doesn’t ravage you right now, digging your nails into his bicep. Hyunjin starts off slowly, gentle languid strokes brushing over your walls. With every move, he feels you relax, the tension in your legs loosening into desperate longing as you pull him deeper into you, trapping him against your body.

You open your eyes only to grab his hand, wrapping it around your throat. His hips stutter, before he grips you fully, squeezing the sides of your neck until your moans turn to broken cries of his name.

“You’re such a cute little whore, love. What a dirty pussy you’ve been holding out on me.”

The smirk he looks down on you with is downright filthy, degrading every shred of dignity you had left, but you don’t take in anything but him, his hips slamming you into the mattress and the hot breath against your ear. “Are you gonna cum from that? My good girl, just like that...Let go and cum under me.”

He pulls his hand away from your neck, allowing you to heave in a breath and scream his name. Hyunjin holds you down by your wrists above your head, thrusting relentlessly as you cum around him, shaking and sobbing from the overstimulation at your centre. He allows himself to release then, as your whimpers quieten and he rides out your highs with you, filling you to the brim. 

You stay entwined for a moment as you catch your shaky breath, coming out of the headspace Hyunjin fucked you into. When he pulls out, you fight the urge to clamp your legs shut as he holds your thighs apart, admiring the way his cum spills out of your rawed hole. 

“Let me clean you first, birdie.” 

You nearly drift off in the blissed-out feeling that envelops you as he wipes your legs clean with a warm, damp cloth, stroking over tingling bruises with adoration. 

When he’s finally satisfied with your state, Jinnie allows you to tug him back into bed with you, arms immediately coiling around your middle to press you into his chest, nose nuzzling against the crown of your head to breathe in your scent. 

“I meant every word I said.” He mentions, speaking against your forehead. His lips tickle you with every word and you’re so tempted to kiss him again just because you can. “ I really do love you.”

“I know, Jinnie. I love you too.”

****

Tag list - @defsbxessi @godlyaj @palet-innie

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin #lee minho #stray kids imagines #hyunjin #Halloween au #Hyunjin au

[friendocheaven]

Picnic Ask

Ask and ye shall recieve @theaxolotleastofthesun it’s long af tho, so it’s under the cut.

 1.       Where and When is the picnic happening? (Gonna take this as ideal location and season basically)

a.       Milo: Prefers someplace a bit south—warmer than the northern parts of the Eye. Summer in Sun Elf territory would be nice. Not south enough to get jungle-y and humid (Glim can take heat, but draws the line at humidity), but someplace he could retreat to the blessed relief offered by the shade of a scrubby tree and have a good excuse to eat his favorite spicy foods and sweat to cool down.

b.      Glim: as stated above, he doesn’t do well in high humidity. Also not the biggest fan of excessive heat, but will put up with it for Milo’s sake. Were it up to him though, he would prefer an autumn picnic in a cozy shady glen under a still-full canopy of rich reds and violets and sunny yellows. A sigh of crisp wind carrying with it the first hint of winter.

c.       Remmi: Love’s spring, especially when it’s still early. They love the way the fruit trees look while still flowering and the cool, but warming, breeze. They would most enjoy something near water, but with plush green grass still under foot. The Northern Reservoir is well tended, with bright, blossoming bushes hedging cobbled pathways. The surrounding park stretches most of the way ‘round. Remmi would most like a quiet day at the eastern edge—farthest away from the great roaring falls that lead into the canyon. Bonus if there are frogs.

d.      Hani: Loves the dead heat of summer; the feel of warm sun on his skin. A midsummer, late afternoon picnic after a day of splashing around the Southern Sea would be heaven. Sure, the food might get a little sandy, but it wouldn’t stop him from eating and enjoying every second.

2.       What food and drinks do your OCs bring? (you fool! You’re enabling me to indulge my fascination with food culture!)

a.       Milo: Goes all out on the spice—picnic with him at your own peril. He packs extra-hot kimchi, seasoned roasted garlic cloves, Zevi’s falafel recipe, and a few other side dishes that reflect his upbringing by a Southern Dwarf familiar with Halfling food culture. He also gets pretty excited with drinks, bringing three; an iced ginger tea made with turmeric and black pepper, buttercup and honey hwachae (most non-halflings just call it wine even though it’s usually not alcoholic) because he’s (not so) secretly pretty sappy and sentimental, and Baekse-ju to finish off with a good pair for spicy food and just a touch of alcohol.

b.      Glim: Settles for light, seasonal snack foods. He brings a bunch of fresh cut in-season fruit like apples (that yes, he does cut the skins to look like bunnies like his mother used to), a couple loaves of bara brith made with ground dried fruits and nuts served with butter, and a whole basket of pic ar y maen (cookies with raisins and currants mixed in). He brings spiced virgin cider and a fine local white wine to wash it down.

c.       Remmi: As a professional baker, they refused to bring anything but their best to their picnic. They pick finger-food pastries—the best from their eclectic cooking experience and travels. Beignets topped with honey and powdered sugar—in a basket enchanted to keep them fresh and hot and crisp because they take pride in their work. An impressive assortment of petit fors lined up and packed tightly in another container. Muffuletta finger sandwiches with toothpicks holding them together for the more savory inclined guests. And finally some cranberry pastila which they hadn’t made in years and was their way of flexing their baker’s muscles. They pack a thermos of milk tea and an iced chocolate drink.

d.      Hani: not a big cook. He was hoping Senya would do most of the cooking. It’s not like he’s particularly picky about what he ingests. To be polite though, he brings a crock of bamia—a stew with lamb, okra, tomatoes, and onion—that his mother would make on special occasions. He also brings an impressive array of drinks; sugar cane juice, carob juice, tamarind juice, and iced coffee.

3.       What are your OC’s wearing to the picnic?

a.       Milo: Largely his usual sort of outfit. A sleeveless turtleneck, cargo capris, and combat boots. He does add a lightweight cotton shawl embroidered with geese in shades of red that he got as a wedding gift from Lian. He wears it to avoid sunburn, but once in the shade and eating, he carefully folds it and sets it aside so it doesn’t get dirty.

b.      Glim: A cream colored tunic and brown tasseled cardigan over dark blue leggings, simple but sleek black ankle boots, and finished off with a simple sapphire teardrop pendant on a gold chain.

c.       Remmi: they opt for something simple and comfortable, but fitting for the season. They wear a yellow wide-band tank top under an oversized baby pink cable knit sweater. The sweater is so big it slouches off one shoulder, reaches their knees, and the sleeves hide their hands if they aren’t scrunched up at the elbow. They pair that with slim, washed out jeans, and a pair of tan slouchy boots. As one final touch, they don cherry blossom studs in their ears.

d.      Hani: he goes for something sporty and comfy. A loose and flowy off-white sleeveless crop top over a pair of baggy gray-blue shorts held round his hips by a broad and colorful sash and a pair of greek sandals that he discards almost immediately. To add a touch of class—after all this is a fun outing so why not—he wears golden arm bands just above each bicep. Those stay on longer, but they, too, eventually get unceremoniously dumped into the picnic basket in favor of total comfort.

4.       Which OC brings a musical instrument to idly play?

a.       Surprisingly enough, Hani. Remmi knows a little piano and harp, but those aren’t exactly available at a picnic. Milo has never learned an instrument (though he finds guitar interesting). And Glim tried playing, but sucked at just about everything; and anything he could play he couldn’t play in front of others. Hani, on the other hand, randomly knows how to play—and is good at—the oud (which is like an Arab lute). And yes, he does attempt to play Wonderwall on it.

5.       How quickly does your OC realize there are ants trying to sneak into their food? What do they do about it?

a.       Milo: He’s very perceptive, so it doesn’t take long for him to notice. He proceeds to squish them then mix them into his food for “extra protein” without hesitation. Despite knowing that Milo was raised eating bugs and still does fairly regularly, everyone still looks at him like he’s gone insane.

b.      Glim: He picks up on it when someone else points it out. It’s only then that he realizes that he forgot to activate the insect repellent rune. He curses under his breath and apologizes before quickly moving the picnic supplies a few meters away and activating it then.

c.       Remmi: They spend the whole picnic low-key looking out for this. Whenever bugs start walking toward or flying around their precious gourmet picnic, they nonchalantly close all the containers up tight then swat them all away without breaking the conversation.

d.      Hani: he doesn’t notice until one of the ants bites his tongue as he’s eating. He spits that one out because it was mean, but all subsequent ones he eats. And unlike Milo, Hani doesn’t mix them into anything, he just pops them into his mouth.

6.       Which OC hides under the shade at first before being convinced to come out into the sun? How do they react?

a.       Glim hates the heat. If you can manage to convince him to leave the tranquility of shade, he will be a drama queen about it. Really laying it on thick and moaning about how “the sun is a white hot laser” against his “poor fragile flesh” and that if he continues on he will surely “burn up, dry out, and die!” and other such dramatic nonsense. He gets weirdly poetic when he’s frustrated or cranky. Needless to say, Milo has ceased pushing the issue.

7.       Imagine your OCs spending their time picking nearby wildflowers and watching the butterflies and bees at work.

a.       Milo foregoes this particular activity, choosing this time instead to just take in the scenery. He’s scared he might upset a hive or get stung or bitten by something so he’d rather just sit back and soak up the atmosphere.

b.      Glim is carefully rooting around for four leaf clovers under a subdued parasol.

c.       Remmi carefully plucks and cuts an armful of flowers and stems so they can make colorful flower crowns for everyone.

d.      Hani chases the bugs and small animals, not unlike a dog would. But he’s having fun so it’s fine.

8.       Which OC foregoes a picnic blanket and sits directly on the ground? Are they concerned by the grass stains on their clothes afterwards?

a.       Hani doesn’t care where he plants his butt and cares almost as little about stains.

9.       Which OC brings a chair because they can’t stand the thought of sitting on the ground?

a.       Remmi, but a lot of it is because they don’t want to risk getting their clothes too dirty and also because the ground is never as soft and even as you think or hope. So sitting on the ground, even on a blanket, hurts their butt.

10.   Imagine your OCs falling asleep after eating their food, content and happy.

a.       Milo is one of the first to nod off and lays down in the shade. He kicks his shoes off and lets the sun warm his feet while the shade keeps his face cool. He wakes up to groggily help pack everything back up.

b.      Glim doesn’t actually fall asleep. He just sort of zones out while playing with Milo’s hair and enjoying the breeze.

c.       After loading up on carbs, Remmi dozes off in their chair and wake up with a tender sunburn spread across their nose and cheeks. They vow to never fall asleep in the sun like that again, but they make the same mistake next time.

d.      Hanni has seemingly boundless energy throughout the day, which is a bit unusual for him as he often naps a lot when the sun is out, but is wired by the time the moon replaces it. As soon as they’ve packed everything up and are headed home, though, the excitement wears off and he crashes hard. He’s asleep the whole way back.

#I got like.... reeeeally into this #it took two sessions at my computer #lol

[doctorthasmin]

Enchanted Forest

“It’s so beautiful.” Yaz whispers softly, gazing up at the canopy of bright green trees, the clear blue sky piercing through.

“Smells like the back of the bike shed to me.” Ryan grumbles, as they stride through the forest the Doctor insistent that she knew where she was going.

“Clever nose you’ve got there Ryan, there’s an oil deposit right under us, locals haven’t found it yet thankfully.” The Doctor says cheerfully, wincing as a branch whips back into her face.

Graham is unable to join in the conversation as he quietly makes his way through his afternoon sarnie, his juice box sticking out of his pocket for easy access. Yaz hangs back with him, biting her lip as she admires all the flowers and birds. The Doctor stops their troop, sonicing the air before grimacing.

“Hmm. Think we might be lost fam.” She admits, twirling her sonic between her fingers as Ryan groans leaning against a tree.

The thin trunk snaps and Ryan tumbles back with it yelling as he goes down. Graham and the Doctor leap into action grabbing Ryan’s hands to pull him back up as Yaz spots a wide eyed...thing...blinking out of the bushes curiously. She taps the Doctor on the shoulder pointing to it, smiling as kindly as she can, it doesn’t look dangerous.

“Oh my word, it’s a *unintelligble word*.” The Doctor murmurs, moving forward very slowly, speaking softly in a singing voice. The creature sets a tentative foot out to meet the Doctor, sniffing around her outstretched hand and her shoes. Eventually the creature lifts their arms up and the Doctor gently picks them up smiling as she continues to babble in a soft voice.

“They’re going to show us the way home, but we need to be quick cos their troop are expecting them back soon.” The Doctor grins as the creature sniffs each of them, taking a particular interest in Graham’s juice box as he hands it over, watching the creature nervously suck on the straw before beaming in delight.

“See, everything in the universe loves sugar.” The Doctor mumbles in her defence as Graham rolls his eyes. Quickly the creature darts out their claw and a surge of blue light crackles from them, Ryan nearly jumps out of his skin as Yaz swallows taking a deep breath.

“What are they?” Yaz asks gently, unsure if the creature can understand her or not. The Doctor looks back as the creature points in a direction and they start walking quickly.

“Essentially psychic monkeys, the locals call this the enchanted forest, they know something lives in here that they don’t understand. But no one ever gets lost here, these guys make sure of that.” The Doctor grins as Yaz smiles letting the creature reach out and touch her face curiously.

“It’s a shame we can’t take one with us, save us getting lost as often as we do.” Ryan jokes as Graham chortles along and the Doctor rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t hear anyone complaining when we got lost in that Nike factory did I?” The Doctor calls back as Ryan nods along, that had been the best day and his Tardis shoe collection was beyond compare.

When the Tardis comes into view, the Doctor settles the creature back down to the forest floor, smiling as they share some psychic communication. Graham, ever the gentlemen, leans down to unwrap his fruit roll up and hands it to the creature, much to their delight, they scoff it down before bouncing gently up a tree and out of sight.

#doctor who #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #graham o'brien #ryan sinclair

[irwinkitten]

snuggles and snowballs | a.i

notes: last one of the winter fics! I’ve enjoyed writing them and we’ll be back to more scatterbrained ideas popping up amidst venetia and cal. (taking a break has really helped re-find my love for them so there will be a new chapter in the new year) warnings: noneeee word count: 1.3k! 

-

Waking up in the mornings always felt like a chore most days. 

However, you always found yourself pressing closer to the body next to you, his own warmth seemingly inviting you further into his embrace, warding off the cold of the room as his grin around you readjusted and his face pressed into the crook of your neck, a soft groan leaving his lips.

Ashton’s lips pressed against the skin available to him, a soft noise escaping you as you curled against him, unwilling to leave the warm confines of your bed.

“Don’t wanna move.” You muttered, earning a chuckle from him. It took a few seconds before you finally unfurled from his side and he stretched, your eyes trailing his body.

“Take a photo.” His comment made you grin as you did so, snapping another photo of his look of astonishment.

“You told me to take a photo so I did.” You were quick to move from the bed, but not quick enough as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you back to him as he fell back onto the bed, unable to help the delighted yell as he tickled into your sides, his lips pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder.

“You know I didn’t mean it literally, menace.” He murmured once you had relaxed against him, his arms unwilling to let you go.

“Didn’t want to miss the chance of taking a photo of you. You’re handsome and I appreciate it.” You retorted before finally pulling away from his embrace. He didn’t fight you as you got up, making your way to the joined up bathroom, turning the shower on.

“Last day of the year babe, make the most of it.” You called back and laughed when you heard hurried footsteps and his body pressing against your back.

“Like I said, menace.” He whispered.

Your retort was lost as his lips found yours.

Once you were both showered and dressed, you opened the door to find that more snow had fallen in the night, a groan ripping from your lips as you retreated back into the house.

“Snow?” Ash asked as you nodded, a grumpy expression appearing on your face.

“I was going to suggest that we get food and drinks for the party we were meant to be at tonight, but judging from the snow, I don’t fancy getting stuck out there, do you?” You finally muttered as the two of you wrapped up.

Ashton grinned as he pressed a kiss to your nose before he wrapped the scarf around his neck.

“Honestly, we don’t need to be at a party to celebrate the New Year. And anyway, I think I’ve got a better idea for us to spend the New Year.” His answering smirk made you press your lips together in return before grinning and heading out into the snow.

The trek to the local shops took longer than either of you had really anticipated, but you found they were open and so you made sure to stock up on some food for the next week just in case the snow didn’t let up. 

By the time the two of you had gotten home, the snow had begun to fall again and you couldn’t resist once the groceries were away, you pulled Ashton back out into the snow, laughing as he stumbled over his own feet, landing face first in the snow.

You were quick to move from the incoming snowball, retaliating with one of your own as he scrambled to get good footing. You opted to dive behind the tree in the front yard, laughing as the snowball hit the trunk of the tree.

Carefully, you peered around and spotted the black hair hidden behind the bushes. As much as he tried to make himself small, his height was a disadvantage and you took the chance as you scooped up some snow, sneaking yourself to the otherside of the bush but laying low.

“Fuck.” You heard him breath and you risked a glance up to see the top of his head peering over the bush. 

You attacked with a war cry, a yell of shock escaping from Ashton as you shoved the snow in his face and down his shirt before scrambling to move away.

“Oh it’s on!” He yelled as he scooped up more snow and began to chase you, your laughter ringing around the cul de sac. 

Like a couple of kids, you continued the snow fight. The kids that lived around you both got involved, splitting into teams of two, you and Ashton as captains and the kids loved it as you all seemed to routinely bombarded the other side with snowballs.

A truce was called when the kids were called in, but you got Ashton one last time, pinning him down into the snow.

“Beautiful snow angel.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips before taking out your phone and snapping a photo. 

Whether from the cold or your compliment, you could see his cheeks grow redder and you grinned as you got up, helping him get back up and retreating into the warmth.

“Does that mean I won then?” You teased as the two of you shed all of your outer clothes before racing up the stairs to get out of the rest of your clothes.

“Maybe.” Ashton murmured in return as he headed into the shower, his head sticking out moments later. “Coming?” 

You didn’t need to be asked twice, the two of you deciding to enjoy the shower warmth and get changed, the pull of your teasing and actions this morning seemingly dulled down with the cold weather.

Once the two of you were warmed up and dry, you ventured down to make hot chocolate whilst Ashton set up the living room for your evening together.

The fact that it would be your first New Year together alone was not lost on you, and apparently it wasn’t lost on Ashton either when you returned from the kitchen to find that he’d set up a small area, draped in blankets and cushions. 

Once the two of you had settled in properly, your back nestled against his chest, his arms around you as the two of you watched a couple of films before switching over to the Ball Drop.

“Weren’t you guys invited this year?” You murmured tiredly as the two of you shifted positions, his body hovering over you.

“They asked us, but scheduling conflicts. Luke and Cal didn’t want to fly back from Aus for it and actually we wanted to have this to ourselves. No obligations or work. Just, whatever we wanted to do.” He explained as his lips found your neck and your eyes closed as they moved from your neck to your jaw, soft gentle kisses making their way to your lips.

“Would you do it one year?” The words were barely a whisper, the small smirk on Ashton’s lips making you aware that he knew what he did to you when he did this.

“Maybe. Would you be willing to stand out in the cold all day to wait for us to perform?” His question was laced with curiosity, his head pulling back as his eyes searched yours.

“Without hesitation.” You murmured in return and his lips returned back to your skin, this time a little more harsher than the soft kisses before.

“Ash.” You breathed as he worked off your shirt and shorts, leaning back to take his own off just as the fireworks started and you both finally registered that the ball had dropped.

“Happy New Year love, let's start this one off right, yeah?” His body was against yours, lips hovering over yours as you nodded.

“Lets. Happy New Year baby.” 

-

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#ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin blurbs #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin fics #5sos blurb #5sos blurbs #5sos fic #5sos fics #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer blurbs #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fics #my writing

[himbowelsh]

Thank you for answering my earlier questions! I know you've written for Grant and Talbert before (I cannot remember their ship name for the life of me) would you be willing to write any modern head cannons for them? Or any general relationship head cannons for them? Those two don't get enough love together! 🙂

gralbert.  talbant.  grantbert?  tabant?  fluck?   there are no good options here.

Modern Headcanons (this turned into a coffeeshop au i’m sorry):

Grant’s really just vibing through life, to be honest. Out of all his friends, he’s the one who’s got his shit most together, and that’s something to be proud of. So what if he’s still not sure exactly where he wants to be in ten years, or how he’s going to get there? It’s enough to just...  exist in the moment.

That moment, currently, puts him in charge of managing a small coffee shop which has become the social hub for his entire social circle. Not only is he making great cash, he gets to stay connected with old friends and meet new people every day. Plus...  he’s never short on coffee? Literally nothing to complain about.

It’s not that he doesn’t feel...  well, connected is the wrong word, because he definitely is. There are just times when he feels...  lonely. Chuck’s got a lot of friends, but he’s also the sort of guy who could stand in the middle of a crowded room and suddenly feel like he’s the only one there  ---  like no one’s really looking at him at all.

He craves attention, affection, warmth.

That’s when Dog Boy happens.

In Chuck’s defense, Dog Boy is a complete accident. The coffee shop is just supposed to be a canine free zone...  so he’s completely baffled to see a guy walk in with at least five dogs, all on leashes, and order an iced coffee to go.

The guy definitely seems like he’s in a hurry  ---  like he really, really needs a coffee  ---  but Chuck can only stare.  “Are those all supposed to be service dogs?” he asks.

“Um,” Dog Boy says.

Chuck points to the sign on the wall, which very clearly reads the coffee shop’s animal policy. Dog Boy lets out a weird noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Okay, I’m sorry, I know, but can I please please just get an iced coffee?”

It looks like he has his hands full. More than full. This coffee is going to end up spattered on a sidewalk somewhere, and Dog Boy will probably cry. He looks like he might cry right now, just for the hell of it.

Chuck gets him an iced coffee.

That should be the end of it, but a few days later, Dog Boy comes back. He doesn’t have any dogs in tow this go ‘round, but looks five times as relaxed  ---  which is really, really a good look on him  ---  and promptly deposits a twenty dollar bill in Chuck’s tip jar.   “For you,”  he declares, and winks.

Chuck just stares at him.  “We, uhh  ---  we have to split the tips between everyone on shift, and there are, like, four other people here...”

“Christ,” says Dog Boy, and plucks the bill out of the tip jar  ---  can he do that?  is that allowed? ---   and tucks it in the pocket of Chuck’s apron.     “For you. You saved my life the other day, with the coffee. Can’t tell you what sort of day I was having, but...”

He smiles, and it’s the ridiculous sort of smile that shouldn’t be allowed to exist on anyone who’s not in Hollywood   ---   casually blinding, bright enough to leave Chuck feeling warm all over.

If he had to pick the moment he knew he was in trouble...  right there. There is it.

Floyd Talbert becomes a regular in the coffee shop after that. Turns out, he knows a startling amount of Chuck’s friends.  It’s not long before Tab’s popping in nearly every day to joke around with Bill and Babe, cause trouble with Liebgott, or even confer quietly with Mr. Winters in the corner. Seeing Tab becomes one of the highlights of Chuck’s day; they never really talk, but he’s got his coffee order memorized, and everytime that bold smile flashes his way, he feels a little dizzy.

Is this...  what it’s like to have a crush?  Strange.  Unnerving.  Chuck hasn’t had a crush since middle school.   Why now...  and why, of people, on Talbert?

One look at him and that becomes a stupid question. Who wouldn’t have a crush on Talbert?

Chuck comforts himself with that knowledge   ----   no doubt, Tab’s got girls lining up around the block. What interest would he have in a barista who always adds a little extra sugar to his coffee, just because that’s how he likes it?

Tab is the sort of guy who draws people to him like moths to a porch light; he’s dynamic and popular wherever he goes. Chuck has a tight group of friends who he sticks to like glue, and would do anything for; he’s always been more content to wait in the background, observing and working silently. He doesn’t enjoy the limelight. Tab attracts it.

There’s no way they’d work together, because Tab would never notice him.

Until the day Smokey Gordon comes up to the counter with a big grin on his face, and drops something in the tip jar.  “Just for you,”  he declares, and winks.

It’s a folded up piece of paper...  and there’s a phone number written on it. Chuck blinks for a moment, confused, before putting two and two together. Smokey gave him the number as soon as Tab left the shop.

He texts it that night.   “smokey gave me this number...  this is chuck, the barista from the coffee shop”   Waiting restlessly on his balcony with a cigarette in hand, bouncing his leg like it’s running a marathon...  Chuck has nothing to do but hold his breath.

Suddenly, the phone buzzes. It startles his cat into falling off the table. Chuck nearly jumps out of his skin.

“why am i not surprised?  typical smokey”    comes the response, followed by a startlingly accurate bitmoji.   (He uses those instead of emojis?  That’s kinda narcissistic but also really cute?)

After a moment of Chuck holding his breath, searching for how to reply  (he’s a very slow texter, and it drives his friends insane)  another message comes through from Tab.

“good thing he did tho, because i’d have spent a few more weeks working up the courage”

Chuck has a heart attack on the spot.

“honestly,”   he replies,   “i’d have skipped the number and gone straight to asking you to dinner”

“wow, a gentleman!!!”      His enthusiasm is adorable.       “sounds great to me.   are you free friday?   i know a great place for burgers”

It’s across the street from a 24-hour vet clinic.

That’s why Tab wanted to go there.

They make it through half an hour of the date with Tab obviously getting restless, and Chuck is terrified he’s boring him...  until Tab abruptly sets his glass down on the counter and turns to Chuck, fresh brightness in his eyes. “Can we actually go somewhere else? I’ve got some friends you might like to meet.”

Tab works at the local vet clinic, and he’s the one tasked with walking all the dogs each afternoon. Usually they go in shifts, but on that particular day, Tab was in a rush and decided to take them all at once.

“They ran me all over town,” he declares, a funny note of pride in his voice. “I was that close to passing out...  but then I saw the shop, and I saw you, and...”

He trails off, gnawing at his lower lip  ---   his hands are occupied roughhousing with a golden retriever, while a persistent beagle noses at his elbow. Chuck blinks at Tab over the head of an enthusiastic Yorkie, and feels something warm bloom in his chest.

“Next time, I decide the date location,” he declares. Tab grins, bright and blinding as a solar eclipse. To his own amazement, Chuck feels like he’s come home.

General Relationship Headcanons:

Chuck’s mellower than Floyd in a lot of ways. He’s less emotional, better at thinking things through; when their friends are causing havoc, Tab will eagerly be swept along in the chaos, while Chuck will follow to make sure no one causes too much trouble. They both know how to have fun, though, and have equally adventurous streaks that match well together. Hiking, rock climbing, bike riding...  these are all dates they’d enjoy.

Floyd appreciates Chuck’s honesty. Sometimes he can be too blunt (”What do you think of these jeans?” “Eh, you’ve worn better.”), but he never beats around the bush, and there’s never any question whether Floyd can trust his judgement. Chuck says what he thinks, and means what he says.

Floyd is gentler in a lot of ways, and this is something Chuck isn’t used to. He’s never...  been taken care of before. He’s never been doted on. Floyd loves doting on him, and this takes a lot of getting used to.

Chuck is the first one to say “I love you”, and it shocks them both. Sure, they’d been thinking it for a while, but...  Chuck never thought he’d find the courage to voice it, but it slips out almost unconsciously. Floyd pauses in the middle of making dinner...  then chuckles softly, almost to himself, and glances back over his shoulder.  “Love you too,”  he replies, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.  To both their surprises...  it is.

Floyd’s morals run deep, and he’s got a sensitive side that’s easily stoked. Tug on his heartstrings, and he’s open to anything...  which scares Chuck, who doesn’t trust as easily. Floyd’s more than capable of taking care of himself, but a part of Chuck feels like he needs to protect him from getting hurt. That’s impossible. The first time something hits Floyd hard, and he’s left pacing into the early hours of the morning, chewing his lip raw and agonizing over what he could have done differently, Chuck stays up with him. He doesn’t try to stop him, doesn’t try to calm him down...  but when Tab finally collapses in a chair, exhausted, Chuck’s the one who coaxes him up and to bed.

After that, it’s his turn to take care of Floyd.  This is a role he falls into with much more ease...  and Floyd, as it turns out, enjoys being pampered as much as he does giving the love.

#i-am-a-lost-girl16 #chuck grant #floyd talbert #band of brothers #headcanons #grant/talbert #im so sorry this took a hot second but hope you enjoy!!!!

[sciencespies]

Meet the Ecologist Who Wants You to Unleash the Wild on Your Backyard

https://sciencespies.com/nature/meet-the-ecologist-who-wants-you-to-unleash-the-wild-on-your-backyard/

Meet the Ecologist Who Wants You to Unleash the Wild on Your Backyard

The land is ten gently sloping acres in rural southeastern Pennsylvania, at one time mowed for hay, with a handsome farmhouse that Douglas Tallamy bought around 20 years ago. It isn’t much to look at, by the standards most Americans apply to landscaping—no expansive views across swaths of lawn set off by flowerbeds and specimen trees—but, as Tallamy says, “We’re tucked away here where no one can see us, so we can do pretty much what we want.” And what he wants is for this property to be a model for the rest of the country, by which he means suburbs, exurbs, uninhabited woods, highway margins, city parks, streets and backyards, even rooftops and window boxes, basically every square foot of land not paved or farmed. He wants to see it replanted with native North American flora, supporting a healthy array of native North American butterflies, moths and other arthropods, providing food for a robust population of songbirds, small mammals and reptiles. He even has a name for it: Homegrown National Park.

A creek on his land supports native plants adapted to “getting their feet wet,” Tallamy says, such as skunk cabbage.

(Matthew Cicanese)

On a June day in 2001, not long after he bought the property, Tallamy, an entomologist at the University of Delaware, was walking his land when he noticed something that struck him as unusual. Before he bought it, most of it had been kept in hay, but at that point it hadn’t been mowed in three years and “was overgrown with autumn olive and Oriental bittersweet in a tangle so thick you couldn’t walk. The first thing I had to do was cut trails,” Tallamy recalls. And walking through his woods on the newly cut trails, what he noticed was what was missing: caterpillars.

No caterpillars on the Oriental bittersweet, the multiflora rose, the Japanese honeysuckle, on the burning bush that lined his neighbor’s driveway. All around him plants were in a riot of photosynthesis, converting the energy of sunlight into sugars and proteins and fats that were going uneaten. A loss, and not just for him as a professional entomologist. Insects—“the little things that run the world,” as the naturalist E.O. Wilson called them—are at the heart of the food web, the main way nature converts plant protoplasm into animal life. If Tallamy were a chickadee—a bird whose nestlings may consume between 6,000 and 9,000 caterpillars before they fledge, all foraged within a 150-foot radius of the nest—he would have found it hard going in these woods.

Tallamy knew, in a general sense, why that was. The plants he was walking among were mostly introduced exotics, brought to America either accidentally in cargo or intentionally for landscaping or crops. Then they escaped into the wild, outcompeting their native counterparts, meeting the definition of an “invasive” species. By and large, plants can tolerate a wide range of environmental conditions. But insects tend to be specialists, feeding on and pollinating a narrow spectrum of plant life, sometimes just a single species. “Ninety percent of the insects that eat plants can develop and reproduce only on the plants with which they share an evolutionary history,” Tallamy says. In the competition to eat, and to avoid being eaten, plants have developed various chemical and morphological defenses—toxins, sticky sap, rough bark, waxy cuticles—and insects have evolved ways to get around them. But as a rule, insect strategies don’t work well against species they have never encountered. That’s true of even closely related species—imported Norway maples versus native sugar maples, for instance. Tallamy has found that within the same genus, introduced plant species provide on average 68 percent less food for insects than natives. Hence, a plant that in its native habitat might support dozens or hundreds of species of insects, birds and mammals may go virtually uneaten in a new ecosystem. Pennsylvania, for example.

Demonstrating that point might make for a good undergraduate research project, Tallamy thought. So he asked a student to do a survey of the literature in preparation for a study. The student reported back there wasn’t any. “I checked myself,” he says. “There was a lot written about invasive species. But nothing on insects and the food web.”

That, he says, was the “aha” moment in his career, at which he began to remake himself from a specialist in the mating habits of the cucumber beetle to a proselytizer for native plants as a way to preserve what remains of the natural ecology of North America. He was following in the footsteps of Wilson, his scientific hero, who went from being the world’s foremost expert on ants to an eminent spokesman for the ecology of the whole planet. “I didn’t exactly plan it this way,” Tallamy says with a shrug. “In the musical chairs of life, the music stopped and I sat down in the ‘invasive plants’ chair. It’s a satisfying way to close out my career.”

As a scientist, Tallamy realized his initial obligation was to prove his insight empirically. He began with the essential first step of any scientific undertaking, by applying for research grants, the first of which took until 2005 to materialize. Then followed five years of work by relays of students. “We had to plant the plants and then measure insect use over the next three years, at five different sites,” he recalls. “To sample a plot was an all-day affair with five people.” Out of that work eventually came papers in scientific journals such as Conservation Biology (“Ranking lepidopteran use of native versus introduced plants”), Biological Invasions (“Effects of non-native plants on the native insect community of Delaware”) and Environmental Entomology (“An evaluation of butterfly gardens for restoring habitat for the monarch butterfly”). And then popularizing books aimed at changing the face of America’s backyards: Bringing Nature Home: How You Can Sustain Wildlife With Native Plants and, this year, Nature’s Best Hope: A New Approach to Conservation That Starts in Your Yard. And in turn a busy schedule of talks before professional organizations, environmental groups, local conservation societies, landscape designers—anyone who would listen, basically.

Squirrels aren’t the only animals that like acorns. Weevils develop inside the oaknuts, and the larvae, in turn, nourish blue jays and woodpeckers

(Matthew Cicanese)

When insects disappear, humans may not take much notice, but the recent population declines of two species have received a great deal of attention: the monarch butterfly, because it’s an iconic, easily recognizable and beautiful creature; and the honeybee, because it’s needed to pollinate crops. But those episodes are symptomatic of a larger disruption in the ecosystem. Tallamy estimates that the worldwide population of arthropods, chiefly insects, has declined by 45 percent from preindustrial times. Without insects, it would be the case that lizards, frogs and toads, birds and mammals, from rodents up through bears, would lose all or a large part of their diets. “The little things that run the world are disappearing,” he says. “This is an ecological crisis that we’re just starting to talk about.”

Tallamy is 68, graying, soft-spoken and diffident. In his talks he cloaks the urgency of his message with an understated wit, as when he presses the unpopular cause of poison ivy, whose berries at certain times of the year are an important food for the downy woodpecker and other birds. “When do you get a rash from poison ivy?” he asks an audience. “When you try to pull it out! Ignore your poison ivy. You can run faster than it can.” To which many people would reply: “Nature had plenty of poison ivy and insects in it the last time I was there.”

But to Tallamy, that attitude is precisely the problem. It speaks to a definition of “nature” as co-extensive with “wilderness,” and excludes the everyday landscape inhabited by virtually all Americans. The ecosystem cannot be sustained just by national parks and forests. A statistic he frequently cites is that 86 percent of the land east of the Mississippi is privately owned. A large fraction of that acreage is either under cultivation for food or planted in a monoculture of lawn, a landscape that for ecological purposes might as well be a parking lot.

To Tallamy, spiders serve as a linchpin species to birds because they are the second most important food, outweighed in nutritive value only by caterpillars.

(Matthew Cicanese)

Tallamy incorporated his thinking into “Homegrown National Park,” an aspirational project to repurpose half of America’s lawnscape for ecologically productive use. That would comprise more than 20 million acres, the equivalent of nearly ten Yellowstones. The intention is to unite fragments of land scattered across the country into a network of habitat, which could be achieved, he wrote in Bringing Nature Home, “by untrained citizens with minimal expense and without any costly changes to infrastructure.” The plots wouldn’t have to be contiguous, although that would be preferable. Moths and birds can fly, and you’re helping them just by reducing the distance they have to travel for food.

“Every little bit helps,” Tallamy says. “Most people don’t own 50 acres, so it’s not going to be that hard. The minimal thing is, you plant a tree and it’s the right tree. Look at what’s happened at my house.”

The idea was picked up by the writer Richard Louv, who coined the term “nature-deficit disorder” in his jeremiad Last Child in the Woods, and by the Canadian naturalist and philanthropist David Suzuki, whose foundation is supporting an effort to implement the project on a limited scale in Toronto.

Even a small patch of Pennsylvania woodland, if allowed to grow wild, generates a vast ecosystem: Native crabapples persist into winter and feed foxes and wild turkeys.

(Matthew Cicanese)

Tallamy walks his land in all seasons, wrenching from the soil the occasional Japanese honeysuckle that made the mistake of venturing onto his property, checking up on his winterberries and sweet pepperbush, looking for leaves that have been chewed by insects and the stems of berries eaten by birds. Occasionally he will do a moth survey, hanging a white sheet in his woods at night behind a mercury vapor lamp. The diversity of insect life he encounters is eye-opening even to him; last year he added more than 100 species to his property list, including a few he had to look up to identify. (There are around 11,000 species of moths in the United States, and 160,000 worldwide.) Near his front door is a 35-foot-tall white oak that he planted from an acorn, ignoring the advice some landscapers give against planting oaks, because you won’t live long enough to enjoy them at their mature size, which may take 300 years. “Well, if you can only enjoy a 300-year-old oak, I guess that’s true,” he says dryly. He has collected 242 species of caterpillars from the tree in his yard—so far.

Tallamy is a great proponent of the ecological benefits of caterpillars, a single one of which has the nutritional value of as many as 200 aphids. “They’re soft, you can stuff them down the beak of your offspring without damaging their esophagus,” he says approvingly. “They contain carotenoids. Birds take the carotenoids and build pigments out of them. That’s how you make a prothonotary warbler.”

He acknowledges that not all homeowners enjoy the sight of caterpillars munching on the leaves of their trees. For them he recommends what he calls his Ten-Step Program: “Take ten steps back from the trunk and all your insect problems go away.”

Mushrooms enrich the teeming soil when they decompose.

(Matthew Cicanese)

Tallamy’s principles have a particular resonance with people—like me—who consider themselves environmentalists but landscaped on the principle “if it looks good, plant it.” He says he’s sometimes surprised at how well his message is received. “I thought there would be quite a bit of push back,” he muses. “But there hasn’t been. I’m suggesting we cut the lawn area in half. I assume they just aren’t taking me seriously. Early on I remember a nurseryman in the audience glowering at me, and I heard him muttering ‘You’re trying to put us out of business.’ I don’t want to put them out of business. I get a lot of invitations from the nursery industry, trade shows, landscape architects. All I’m saying is add one criterion to what you use when you choose your plants”—whether a plant is native. “You can’t argue against it.”

Actually, you can. Tallamy has a long-standing scientific disagreement with an entomologist at the University of California at Davis, Arthur Shapiro. Shapiro grew up in Philadelphia, where, he says, the Norway maple on his block in the 1960s was host to at least three species of moth caterpillar: the American dagger moth, the Crecopia silk moth,and the Lunate Zale moth. “Tallamy invokes the diversity of caterpillars as an indicator of the superiority of native plants over nonnative plants,” Shapiro says. “It’s unsurprising that most of them feed on native plants. What goes right by Tallamy is the extent to which native insects switch and adapt to nonnative plants.

“Here in California we are probably more heavily impacted by naturalized plants than any other state except Hawaii. Our low-elevation butterflies are heavily dependent on nonnative plants. Their native host plants have been largely eradicated, but to their good fortune, humans introduced nonnative plants that are not only acceptable but in some instances superior to native hosts. Most California natives in cultivation are of no more butterfly interest than nonnatives, and most of the best butterfly flowers in our area are exotic.”

The much-reviled (but also beloved by some) eucalyptus trees that have colonized the Central California coast now harbor overwintering monarch butterflies, Shapiro says, although for the most part the insect populations they support are different from those found in native habitats. But his attitude is, so what? The marine blue, a butterfly native to the desert Southwest, where it feeds on acacia and mesquite, has expanded its range into the suburbs of Southern California, feeding on leadwort, a perennial flowering shrub native to South Africa. It is botanically unrelated to acacia and mesquite, but by some accident of biochemistry is a suitable host for the marine blue caterpillar, which has adapted to its new host. “That sort of process is happening all the time all around us,” Shapiro says.

Tallamy begs to differ. The examples Shapiro cites, in his view, represent either anecdotal findings of limited scientific value (like the caterpillars on the street tree from Shapiro’s childhood), or anomalous exceptions to the rule that introduced species support a fraction of the insect life of the plants they replace. A ginkgo tree might look like a functional part of an ecosystem, but the Chinese native might as well be a statue for all the good it does. The well-publicized instances of alien species that found American vegetation to their taste—Asian long-horned beetles, European corn borers, gypsy moths—have created the misleading impression that to an insect, one tree is as good as another. But those are exceptional cases, Tallamy maintains, and the great majority of insects accidentally introduced to North America are never heard from again. “Remember, the horticulture trade screens plants before they introduce them into the market. Any plant that is vulnerable to serious attack by native insects is screened out.”

On one level, this dispute reflects that Tallamy and Shapiro have studied very different ecosystems. As Tallamy wrote in Bringing Nature Home, he was “forced to slight western North America and focus on the Lepidoptera that occur on woody plants in eight states of the eastern deciduous forest biome.” The scientists’ disagreement is also partly over time scales. Tallamy acknowledges that natural selection will allow some native insects to evolve the ability to eat whatever is growing in front of them, or be replaced by species that can, and that birds will figure out a way to make a living off the newcomers. But he thinks this is likely to take thousands of generations to have an impact on the food web. Shapiro maintains he has seen it occur within his own lifetime.

It’s fair to say Tallamy sometimes pursues his passion for native flora to the point of single-mindedness. He is the rare environmentalist who doesn’t bring up climate change at the first opportunity, not because he doesn’t care about it, but because he wants to stick to his chosen issue. “Climate change is not what’s driving this problem,” he says. “If there were no climate change anywhere, it would be just as important. It’s driven by poor plant choice and habitat destruction. I don’t like to mix the two. Right now the culture is, ‘Every problem we have is related to climate,’ and that’s not the case.”

He also can be nonchalant about some of the adjustments and sacrifices entailed by his plan for saving the planet. He suffered from allergies to ragweed pollen for decades, he writes in Nature’s Best Hope, but is willing to forgive the plant on the basis that “the ragweed genus Ambrosia is the eighth most productive herbaceous genus in the East, supporting caterpillar development for 54 species of moths.” He doesn’t sugarcoat the fact that the phylum of arthropods includes, besides butterflies and honeybees, about 900 species of Ixodida, which includes ticks. “I think I’ve had Lyme around a half-dozen times,” he says, as he plunges casually into a chest-high thicket in early autumn, “but I’m one of the people who get the rash”—the telltale bull’s-eye marker of an infected bite by the deer tick, which not all patients evince—“so I was able to catch it and treat it each time.”

Anyone following Tallamy’s landscaping dictums might want to, at least, tuck their pants into their socks when they walk around their yard. That is a small sacrifice given the enormousness of the problem he wants to solve. But even people willing to give over half their lawn for the benefit of caterpillars might be daunted by the task of replacing it according to Tallamy’s prescription. Saving the ecosystem isn’t as simple as just letting nature take over your backyard. In nature the race is to the swift, even for plants. “There’s a time in the spring when plants from Asia leap out before plants from North America,” he tells an audience, projecting a picture taken in a local park in late March. “All of the green you see is plants from Asia, the usual suspects: multi-flora rose, Oriental bittersweet, Japanese honeysuckle, privet, barberry, burning bush, ailanthus, Norway maple, all escapees from our garden. You go into almost any natural area around here, a third of the vegetation is from Asia.” Invasive species are called that for a reason, and repelling them is hard, and never-ending, work.

Moreover, not all native plants are created equal, at least from the point of view of an insect. Across a wide range of North American biomes, about 14 percent of plants make 90 percent of the insect food, he says. These are the keystone species that keep the food web healthy, and the most important are four genera of native trees: oaks, poplars, willows and cherries. But also hickory, chestnut, elms and birches, and joe-pye weed, aster, marsh marigold, skunk cabbage, snakeweed. Some seem worth planting just for the poetry of their names: Chickasaw plum, chokecherry, wax myrtle, devil’s beggar’s-tick, false indigo, hairy bush clover, cypress panicgrass.

But insects aren’t the only creatures that evolved to consume the native vegetation of North America. Tallamy’s ten-step rule for making insect damage disappear to the naked eye doesn’t apply to deer. As he trudges alongside a shallow ravine on his property he points to a small clump of trees on the other side that have been denuded from the ground up to nearly shoulder height. “There’s the browse line on Eastern red cedar,” he says sourly. One reason landscapers favor certain exotic species is that deer don’t eat them. Tallamy’s solution for controlling deer is another one of his idealistic, if not altogether practical, recommendations: “Bring back predators!” he says cheerfully.

Tallamy stops on his walk to adjust a wire barrier around a native azalea. “If I wasn’t around to keep up this fence,” he muses, “the deer would eat it all. So you say, why bother?

“That’s a good question.

“But I do.”

“Natural” doesn’t always mean untouched. Tallamy uproots invasive plants, like this fast-growing porcelain-berry, a vine originally from East Asia, introduced in the 1870s.

(Matthew Cicanese)

I visited Tallamy not long before he set out for ten days in the mountains of Peru, where he was consulting with organizations that promote the practice of growing coffee plants beneath the tree canopy (“shade-grown coffee”) to conserve bird habitat. He wanted to investigate which trees provide the best ecological diversity. Before I leave, he quotes Wilson one more time, from his famous talk on “The Importance and Conservation of Invertebrates.” The passage goes like this:

“The truth is that we need invertebrates but they don’t need us. If human beings were to disappear tomorrow, the world would go on with little change….But if invertebrates were to disappear, I doubt that the human species could last more than a few months. Most of the fishes, amphibians, birds and mammals would crash to extinction about the same time. Next would go the bulk of the flowering plants and with them the physical structure of the majority of forests and other terrestrial habitats of the world.

“The earth would rot.”

Wilson gave that talk in 1987. “It was,” Tallamy says dryly, “a theoretical worry back then.”

So it is less of a theoretical worry now, and more of a real one. But Tallamy is doing what he can to head it off, and he wants the whole country to pitch in. Homegrown National Park is meant to bring about not just a horticultural revolution, but a cultural one, bridging the human-dominated landscape and the natural world. “If you do this at your house or in your local park, you don’t have to go to Yellowstone to interact with nature,” Tallamy says. “You won’t have bison, you won’t have Mystic Falls, but you can have nature outside your door. Isn’t that what you want for your kids—and for yourself?”

To Tallamy, the nation’s backyards are more than ripe for a makeover. Here are some of his suggestions to help rejuvenators hit the ground running.

1. Shrink your lawn. Tallamy recommends halving the area devoted to lawns in the continental United States—reducing water, pesticide and fertilizer use. Replace grass with plants that sustain more animal life, he says: “Every little bit of habitat helps.”

2. Remove invasive plants. Introduced plants sustain less animal diversity than natives do. Worse, some exotics crowd out indigenous flora. Notable offenders: Japanese honeysuckle, Oriental bittersweet, multiflora rose and kudzu.

3. Create no-mow zones. Native caterpillars drop from a tree’s canopy to the ground to complete their life cycle. Put mulch or a native ground cover such as Virginia creeper (not English ivy) around the base of a tree to accommodate the insects. Birds will benefit, as well as moths and butterflies.

4. Equip outdoor lights with motion sensors. White lights blazing all night can disturb animal behavior. LED devices use less energy, and yellow light attracts fewer flying insects.

5. Plant keystone species. Among native plants, some contribute more to the food web than others. Native oak, cherry, cottonwood, willow and birch are several of the best tree choices.

6. Welcome pollinators. Goldenrod, native willows, asters, sunflowers, evening primrose and violets are among the plants that support beleaguered native bees.

7. Fight mosquitoes with bacteria. Inexpensive packets containing Bacillus thuringiensis can be placed in drains and other wet sites where mosquitoes hatch. Unlike pesticide sprays, the bacteria inhibit mosquitoes but not other insects.

8. Avoid harsh chemicals. Dig up or torch weeds on hardscaping, or douse with vinegar. Discourage crabgrass by mowing lawn 3 inches high.

#Nature

#Nature

[everlarkficexchange]

Why Do I?

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 53: Everlark have been friends for a long time. Then this exchange happens. Person A: Why Do I even like your dumb ass? Person B: Huh? Person A: *panics* I SAID YOU HAVE A NICE ASS. [submitted by @iliveilaughiloveiread]

Rating: M

Summary: Peeta’s in love with his roommate Katniss. She thinks he has a really good set of buns. All puns intended.

Author’s note: Thanks for the prompt, @iliveilaughiloveiread. I had a lot of fun writing their banter.

“Peeta?”

“Kitchen!”

I hear Katniss throw her keys on the table in the entryway. It’s rare I know she’s there before she sneaks up on me. She’s so quiet I’ve lost track of the number of times she’s scared the shit out of me. I may have dropped a few trays of baked goods on the floor and jumped and screamed like a little girl when she’s tackled me with bear hugs and tickles. The squeals I make when her fingers slip under my shirt are so far from masculine it’s embarrassing, but I wouldn’t trade her hands on my skin for anything.

“What are you doing here, Mellark?” she asks in her throaty chuckle. “You’re not usually home on a Wednesday afternoon.”

“The kid cancelled again,” I answer, referring to the ten-year-old boy I typically tutor mid-week.

“Ah. So, it’s just us,” she replies before crossing to me and snuggling against my side. I lift both hands in the air and hug her with my elbow.

“Sorry. Cookie batter.”

She shrugs away, slumps onto a stool, and leans over the counter to observe. “Sugar?”

“Yes, Dumplin’?”

I grin at her laugh. I’m glad she’s finally rediscovered it. It’s been such a recent thing, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.

“Sugar cookies?”

“Ohhhh… You’re only interested in my baked goods. Maybe I can whip up some buns for you later.” I turn my back to her and clench my ass several times until she begs me to stop. When I turn, her gray eyes sparkle with mirth, and a rare smile graces her beautiful face. When she finally chokes back her laughter, she covers her mouth with her hand and murmurs something.

“Huh?” I can’t have heard her right. There’s no way, but it’s too tempting to let go. “Why do you like my dumb ass? Is that what you said?”

She freezes, and her eyes widen slightly. She gulps several times before blurting, “I didn’t say that! I said, ‘you have a nice ass!’”

“Oh, reeeeeeally?”

“Shut up!” she barks and sprints from the kitchen. A few seconds later, her bedroom door slams, and I sigh heavily.

Katniss Everdeen will be the death of me. I’ve loved her since Kindergarten, and I have no idea how I got so lucky to be her best friend. Well, technically, I do. She used to only talk to Madge Undersee, the daughter of a local politician, and Gale Hawthorne, brooding outdoorsmen who made all the girls in our high school swoon until he graduated and enlisted in the Marine Corps. When Gale left and Madge moved to the state capital after her father became a senator, Katniss drifted through the hallways between classes like a ghost. It only took me three months to work up the nerve to approach her in the lunchroom and ask if she’d like company. Another five weeks passed before she agreed to hang out with me outside of school. Three years later, she said yes when I asked her to be my roommate during college, and we haven’t lived apart in the seven years since. It’s been the best decade of my life.

Except for that pesky little being-in-love-with-her thing. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care. Other than the hugs she gives me, we rarely touch. The most vulnerable she’s ever been with me was when her sister was in a car wreck a few years ago and went into the hospital. Katniss fell apart that night, and I did everything I knew how to do to comfort her. I wish I could do it every day.

I wish a lot of things I’m sure will never happen. Kissing her lips. Seeing her naked. Sinking into her and losing myself. Hearing her breathy moans when she comes. My ring on her finger. Marriage. Children. Grandchildren. Growing old together. Sharing a last name.

“Give it up, Bread Boy,” I mutter. “She’s never gonna love you that way.”

I turn my attention to the cookies. The timer dings, and I pull the first batch from the oven and let them cool while I mix several different colors of icing. Minutes turn into an hour as I decorate batch after batch. I’m just finishing the last few when I hear her behind me.

“I’m hungry. You want to grab dinner?”

I’m careful to keep my face blank when I turn and take in her beautiful face. She’s vulnerable and trying not to show it. Her gray eyes are haunted, and she’s wringing her hands. As much as I’d like to tease her, she doesn’t need that right now. She’s needs reassurance and understanding.

Sometimes it sucks to do the right thing instead of pushing for what I want.

“Always,” I answer quietly and wait for her to meet my eyes. “What sounds good?”

“Carbs.

“You want bread, huh? Maybe a little bun action?” I absolutely have to wiggle my ass. In fact, I have to back up to her and shake it some more. Her face floods with color, and I wink at her.

Sometimes it’s amazing to do what I want. Screw the right thing.

“You are the worst,” she grumbles, and I laugh at her discomfiture.

“I am, but I will feed you if you’ll help me clean up the kitchen.”

“Well, that sounds like a lot of work.” She crosses to me and bumps her shoulder against my arm. Without thinking, I tug her to my chest and nestle her head underneath my chin. She wraps her arms around me, and I kiss her on the crown of her head. When she relaxes, I squeeze her until she yelps.

“You’re a lot of work,” I joke and let her go. Beyond pleased, I hide my grin at the chagrined look on her face. Maybe, just maybe, she might like me a little more than I’d realized.

****

Two days later, I come home to her car in the driveway. She’s not expecting me, I’m sure, since I was supposed to have dinner with my older brother. I didn’t bother to text her when he bailed. Instead, I decided to surprise her, so I sneak inside the house and attempt to be as quiet as possible walking down the hall. I’m about as graceful as an elephant on roller blades, so I’m surprised she doesn’t call out to me.

Her door’s open, and I can hear rustling as I approach. I pause and try to figure out if she knows I’m out there when I hear her moan. Perplexed, I peek around the doorjamb and my mouth drops open. Her legs are splayed, and her eyes are closed. Her left hand grips the headboard, and her right is shoving a piece of plastic between her legs. It takes me a second to realize it’s vibrating. She moans louder, and my eyes widen.

Katniss Everdeen is masturbating. In our house. With her door open. And I can see her.

I jerk back into the hallway quickly and stand frozen to the spot. It feels terribly wrong to stay where I am, but I’m even more terrified to move and alert her to my presence. It’s a form of exquisite torture to listen to her as her breath quickens. She’s more vocal than I expected, and I’m horrified when my dick twitches in response. Every sound from her makes me stiffen, and my jeans tent higher the longer I listen.

She curses and groans for several more minutes, and I’m powerless in her spell. My dick throbs, and I allow myself a little bit of relief by rubbing myself through the denim. I absolutely cannot jack off in the hallway. It’s unacceptable to get off to her private act. Unforgivable.

I’m about to throw all my ethics to the wind when she releases a strangled moan. It’s obvious she’s climaxing, and I can’t stand it anymore. I turn and rush from the house, praying she’s too involved in coming to hear me.

I try to calm down, but I can’t. Stumbling to the side of the house, I duck behind the honeysuckle bush that’s big enough we’ve joked it could be a secret hideout for neighborhood kids. Thankfully, no one’s there, and I grunt as my hand fists my cock.

Echoes of the erotic sounds Katniss made ping in my head, and I can’t erase the image of her fucking herself with silicone. Hunched and desperate to finish before she realizes my car’s in the driveway, I imagine her screaming my name as I tug and stroke. A stiff breeze rustles the bush shielding me from the rest of the world, and I bite my bottom lip as a thick rope shoots from me and stains the green leaves and white blossoms. The sickeningly sweet scent mingles with the smell of sex, and I shudder as I give one last squeeze and release. Quickly, I tuck back into my jeans and wipe my hand on the inside of my t-shirt. I’ve got to get back inside.

I’m frazzled when I stumble through the front door. Making as much noise as I possibly can, I call out her name and wash my hands in the kitchen sink.

“I didn’t hear you pull up,” she says from behind me, and I jump. She’s snuck up on me again.

“Huh,” I reply, desperate to appear normal. “I was out there for a while. Checking email and stuff. You know.”

“Yeah?” She arches her eyebrow and shrugs. “Slow at work, so I’m off tonight. Your plans fell through?” When I nod, she asks, “Want to watch basketball? Have dinner?”

“Sure.”

Watching sweaty men run up and down a court handling balls seems like the perfect remedy to forget how much I love the woman standing in front of me who was naked and writhing in her bed only a few minutes ago. Either that, or I’m in hell.

****

Five days later, I know I’ve entered another dimension that’s been created specifically for self-torture. I haven’t slept through the night since I saw her. I wake myself from erotic dreams and keep a roll of paper towels next to the bed to erase the evidence. I feel like I’m twelve again—unable to control what happens between my legs and experimenting every time I’m alone. I’m embarrassed by my constant state of arousal, and it’s getting harder to hide from Katniss—literally and figuratively.

I’m in the shower jerking myself with a soapy hand when she knocks on my bathroom door.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah!” My arm twitches with tension. I’m almost there.

“Hey, can you give me a ride home from work today? Getting that wheel replaced I messed up a few weeks ago.”

Her voice washes over me like velvet, and my hand moves of its own volition. I’m so close. So, so close.

“Peeta, you okay?”

She’s inside my bathroom. I can tell by the sound of her voice.

“Yeah,” I sputter. “Fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” I groan as heat rips through me. Two more strokes, and I come. I suck in my breath and choke. I can’t breathe as I cough and sputter, and her hand appears at the corner of the curtain.

“Peeta!” Alarm evident in her voice, she warns me of her intention, and I have a split second to cover my crotch with a washcloth before she peeks around the corner. Her eyes narrow as I continue to hack, and I raise my right hand to cover my mouth. I slip slightly and brace my left on the wall, leaving the washcloth draped over my very prominent erection, which she’s clearly just noticed.

“H-holy shit,” she stammers. “I’m so sorry. I—” She bolts from the bathroom, and I rip back the curtain, grab a towel, and stagger after her on shaky legs.

“Katniss! Wait!”

She’s wide-eyed and frozen in the hallway when I emerge from the steam-filled room. The towel still tents slightly, but the absurdity of the situation and my recent ejaculation has deflated my hard-on significantly. I’m as mortified as she is until I realize I’m dripping wet and only in a towel in the hallway with the love of my life.

“You were choking,” she blurts. “It sounded like you were dying.”

“I know. It’s fine.” I rush to assure her I understand.

She stares at my chest, and I almost cover myself before I realize she seems completely dazed. Water droplets run down my stomach, and her eyes follow them. I’m not sure what to say, so I remain quiet, hoping somehow things won’t get any more awkward than they already are.

“I shouldn’t have…I mean, I didn’t know you were… I, uh… Yeah.”

I reach for her shoulder, and my towel shifts. Her eyes widen as I grasp it closed. Her eyes lift to mine, and I’m struck at the wonder in them. Frozen for several seconds, I study her until she takes a step toward me. And then another. And another until she lifts her hand and grazes her fingertips across my stomach. I suck in air and hold it while she traces the curve of my torso.

I exhale in a rush when she toys with the edge of the towel and tugs it from my skin. I let go, and the damp cloth pools at my feet. Her eyes rake over me, and the hunger is raw when she finally meets my eyes.

“I…” The words get caught in her mouth, and I watch her for a sign before leaning down and brushing my lips against hers. I don’t dare open my eyes until I feel her arms slide around my back, and then I crush her to me and tilt my head to kiss her deeper.

I lose track of time as we stand there. My body sizzles as my skin warms and the water evaporates. Her body is pliant and firm against mine. Her hands tug at my neck and trail down my back to the top of my hip bones but don’t go any lower. Her clothes stick to me, and I have a vague recollection that she’s already dressed for work as I wind her thick braid around my palm. I don’t ever want to stop.

She releases a breathy moan, and I press her against the wall and push against her. My knee slides between her legs, and I can feel the heat at her center as her tongue slides over mine. I tug her shirt from the waistline of her pants and grunt when my palm hits her smooth skin.

I rip my mouth from hers and suck on the hollow below her ear. “You feel so good,” I mumble in a tortured whimper.

“Peeta,” she moans, and my hips jerk against her when her hands slide down and cup my ass. All those jokes about buns ripples in the shared sexual tension that increases steadily as she kneads and cups me. Not surprisingly, I’m turned on again, and my cock behaves like a heat-seeking missile. I rub against her groin, and she grinds into me.

A nagging voice tells me to stop, to pull back, but I don’t want to listen to reason—only what her body’s telling me. I don’t understand anything except the way we fit together. I maneuver her a few steps over until she stumbles backward into her room and onto her bed. I stretch over her and wrap her legs around my waist. She moans as I thrust my hips against hers until she moves in rhythm under me. A few seconds later we’re dry-humping like teenagers.

I can feel the seam of her pants against my dick, and she squirms until her breath catches. When it does, I press against her and watch in disbelief as she unravels underneath me.

“Right there,” she begs. “Don’t stop. Right there.”

I buck against her, pushing the material against her clit until she spasms and quakes in my arms. She pants and moans as her body trembles, and I realize I’ve just pushed the woman I love over the edge. I made her come, and I didn’t even have to get her naked.

When she stills under me, I’m suddenly aware of our situation. I’m naked on top of her, and she’s just climaxed inside her pants. Her work clothes are rumpled, soiled, and damp, and I’ve got my second raging boner of the morning. It’s so ridiculous, I can’t help but laugh.

“You’re laughing at me?!”

Before I can process her question, I’m flat on my back, and she’s glaring down at me from the side of her bed. Infuriated, her gray eyes flash, and her hands are clenched at her sides.

“No!” I protest and smirk when she looks down at my junk. It’s both incredibly embarrassing and equally thrilling that she’s seeing me naked (again) and seems to like it.

“Then what is it? I’m bad at this? I didn’t live up to expectations? What?” She spits her interrogation so fast, my head spins. I grab the sheet and cover myself. I’m starting to shrink, and that’s definitely not what I want her to see.

“Katniss, you are absolutely not bad at this. Not even close to bad. More like fucking amazing.”

“Really?” Her voice is so small I almost can’t hear it.

“Hell, yes! I just— I mean, that was not how I expected that to happen.”

“Expected what to happen?”

“Us!” I blurt and snap my mouth shut. I hadn’t intended to admit just how much I’d been wanting to kiss her.

She grins and sits on the edge of the bed next to me. “You’ve been planning that?”

I nod and lean over to kiss her cheek. “For the past twenty years or so. You have no idea the effect you have.”

She blushes and ducks her head. “Well, I might have a little bit of an idea,” she says and nods toward my lap. “You going to take care of that?”

My face burns at her insinuation. “I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” I answer in a desperate attempt to regain some dignity.

“Who said anything about necessary?” she teases and attempts to pull the sheet back.

I want to so badly. I almost ache with it, but this is not the right time. I want hours with her. I want the rest of my life. I don’t want our first time to be a quickie on a weekday morning when we both have to be out the door in less than an hour.

“I can’t believe this, but we both need to go to work. You’re probably gonna want to change, and I’m going to try to save face and walk out of here without worrying about you watching my bare ass as I go away.” Before I can think about her ogling me, I stand and cross to her door. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Sure,” she agrees. “And Peeta?”

“Yeah?” I poke my head back in her room for her answer.

“I’m still not exactly sure why I like your dumb ass, but you really do have a nice one.”

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #hutchhitched #iliveiloveilaughiread #prompt 53

[theazuerhushateveningstarrise]

Green Witch Retail Therapy

Had a stressful day at work, so I spent thirty minutes at a local garden center picking out a few little potted herbs and vegetables. The misty drizzle was very soothing. Then when I go home I got into mud clothes and set about planting my herbs and seeds, Got the front bed settled with a rosemary bush at the center with a purple basil and calendula border. Its forecast to rain all week so my seeds are sure to sprout. Put in a row of sugar snap peas along the back fence while I was at it, we probably have 2 more months of perfect cool weather for peas and if we don’t I actually love stirfry pea sprouts. There’s nothing so soothing as getting your hands into the dirt while soft rain falls and thunder rolls.

#green witch #witchblr #kitchen witch #plants #new plants #herbs #rosemary #basil #hedge witch

[peevishmandible]

I’m an introvert.  A lot of people over the years have contested that. Co-workers, friends. For most of those years I didn’t know what an introvert was so I didn’t know I was one. When I was around people I was gregarious, effusive even. Generous with my time and attention and it wasn’t a put on - I genuinely like people. I’m very good at service industry jobs and when I went into sales I was great at it - selling 800$ Rx sunglasses and juggling tourists from all over the world and locals who expect the best from their small isolated specialty stores - making friends with politicians, hard core bikers, weekend warrior bikers who exalted the name of Harley-Davidson and non Harley owners who felt snubbed and slighted by the insular and exclusive people who thought only HOG members should matter. I loved fitting picky name brand lovers and those searching for a good quality pair of shades for an affordable price.  I’d go home completely exhausted in a way I hadn’t felt in my years of 8 - 15 hour kitchen/janitorial jobs but I also felt galvanized and energized and powerful in a way I hadn’t even when I’d come home knowing my body was as strong as any man’s I worked with - even if I was shorter and had to bitch at them to stop putting stuff of the highest shelves or ask them for help grabbing things I couldn’t reach.  I did think that I had social anxiety - and maybe I did though I think now it was just a symptom of my anxiety and also the fact that I may not be neurotypical. That, combined with a very weird family life which was isolated and filled with abuse and gas lighting and the peculiar things that happen when you have a sibling that is severely an life threateningly disabled, a parent that is mentally unstable abusive and dependent on drugs and alcohol, another that is disabled, depressed, abused, AND eventually addicted to opiates well... how the fuck was I to know how to be around people, be of people?  The people who knew me as an aspiring stage actor - a CLASSICAL actor at that - the people who knew me as the girl at the book store, the sunglass store, the H-D store - they’d be so fucking confused when they’d ask me to dinner, or out for drinks or karaoke and I’d have to tell them “No, I’m not good around people.” They thought I was joking and when they realized I wasn’t and that I was never going to go out with them, they were fucking mystified.  Am I just an introvert? Sure. I do like people. I like them more and I understand how to be around them more now especially since I had my daughter child who is a born extrovert and wasn’t content to stay at home and let me be her world entire. She needed people. I needed to be ok with that. I got better.  Up North, you might be living in a cabin in the bush. You might go for months without human interaction. I’ve never done that but it appeals. I have a place in my mind where I’m young and strong and I live that life. My mother lived that life. It’s in me. Some people they go so long that they get squirrelly. They won’t want to go into town to do that shopping - buy sugar and oil and beans and oatmeal and flour and insulation and shit like that. They’ll put it off or get others to do it. You gotta get those people Out. You gotta get em back to town. They’re Bushed. They’ve been alone too long, or at least too far from society.  I’m Bushed. My anxiety and addiction has grown so all-encompassing the last few years. My grief, my anger. My paranoia, my self-consciousness. My exhaustion. My health troubles. I don’t even WANT to go out, even if I know I’d enjoy it. Bike riding, walking, talking to friends, going to a farmer’s market... it just all seems so tiring so not worth it. I seem unworth it. I go to Dr appointments for my kids but I don’t make them for myself. I get my kids’ hair cuts I buy them new clothes that make them happy - I don’t do it for myself. Not worth the trouble, not worth the expense for me.  I guess I’d like that to stop.  This isn’t what I set out to write today.  I was going to write about how my husband is even more introverted than I am - he doesn’t enjoy the people thing the way I do. But he doesn’t have the neurosis about it that I do, either. He’s just even quieter and more insular than I am. But he’s been pursuing a hobby he’d left behind before our kids were born - a few tiems he’s tried to reclaim it, making models and painting but god we were young and had new babies and no space in our tiny homes and no money and there was so much work for him to do and he just couldn’t. We’re better off now and he’s been able to have large chunks of time to work alone. Our kids are older and don’t need his constant attention as much and they’re even able to praticipate in his hobby to a certain extent. He likes that. He is always so patient and detailed in his explanations to our son and he’s very practiced at listening to us all jabber at him while he concentrates. He’s even been going out and gaming WITH PEOPLE, oh my lord, and some times he EVEN remembers their names. I’m really REALLY happy for him. I’m impressed with him and glad. He comes home real fuckin’ tapped out afterwards, but it’s something he’s doing FOR HIMSELF and it’s involving people in his life outside of just US.  If I’m that happy for him, then I should be happy enough to get myself Out, too. I should. I don’t even know what I’d LIKE. I keep thinking WORK would be a great idea. It would help us financially but it isn’t necessary, thank god for my wonderful intelligent hard working husband. It would be useful. But is my health - mental and physical - good enough? I just don’t know and I really don’t think I can take a fucking beat down by getting fired or quitting right now. Would I like to volunteer? That’s scary for other reasons. Would I like an art class? They’re expensive and am I even any good. So many reasons to shoot myself down.  Tomorrow I’m going to have a friend over. I’m going to get up, have a shower - sometimes lately even that is just so fucking hard - and put on makeup and I guess I should source some clean clothes today. If my house isn’t clean it will be ok I’ll tell her - my house isn’t clean. Let’s go out. And if I can I will even go get a coffee and some cookies for us. My treat, because she’ll be driving here and bringing her baby, and goddamnit I can do that. And if all we do is just walk around in the sun and the melting fall snow then that’s what we’ll do but damnit I AM GOING TO GO OUT.  I had a really really bad talk with my mother last night. That’s also what I was going to write about. I’m angry and hurt and shamed. But I’m going to go OUT tomorrow. I’m bushed, and I need to get out of my fucking head. I have to. 

[themockingcrows]

Two Fates, Two Kingdoms Ch. 16: Survive

This chapter is SFW! cw: animal death, blood, animal attacks This chapter is available on AO3! John/Dave, Jake

Long distance travel is difficult as it is, but long distance travel in winter conditions through rough terrain can feel damn near impossible. With their feet finally on the snowy terrain of Derse, the trio finally get a taste of just how dangerous this mountainous territory can truly be.

    Dave woke warm in his bundled bedding, with the heavy press of a prince at either side of his body from how closely they'd slept in their fireless camp. An extra weight pressed down atop him, feather light and barely noticeable till he'd started to move in place, trying to buy himself more time before he needed to get into the cold air to pee. He shuffled his legs a few more times before lifting his arms to open up the head space, flinching when powdery snow fell in on top of him and letting out a gaspy yelp. John and Jake snorted and immediately rolled his direction as if trying to cover him over before they'd even opened their own bags up, a nice thought in context but in reality a terrible idea as all it did was share two people's worth of snow collection onto his face as well. There was no describing just how thankful Dave really was that there wasn't more than half an inch of snowfall thus far, and that what was still currently falling was in the form of big, fat, slow falling flakes.

    “Whatsit, where's--? Shit,” John muttered, thrashing to get his head out, then immediately changing his mind and retreating. “Fuck me that's cold!”

    Jake, alert now but not as rushed considering Dave hadn't continued to make sounds or give them any follow up information, peered out and around with a yawn before snow lit upon his bangs and eyelashes. He groaned under his breath and dropped back flat on the ground with a few rubs to his face.

    “The horses're still there, right?”

    “No idea, I haven't looked,” Dave said. The pressure in his bladder had only grown with the cold exposure and he knew he had no choice but to carefully get out into the open air, put on his boots, and make his way into the fresh canvas that surrounded them. He cast a glance towards the last place he'd seen them, listening closely in the dark gray of morning to make up for the lack of depth perception making the distance a bit harder to interpret between the trees. A soft nicker from one, then another horse in the gloom answered the question for him.

    “Good horsies. Good,” Jake said to the air in reply. “Sleeping was a good plan, I don't want to imagine how I'd be after a round of guard duty on top of how sleepy I already feel.”

    “Five more hours, please,” John mumbled with his mouth behind the material of his sleeping bag, not wanting to rise again to the crisp air. Dave had slowly sat up in the chill and unfolded the top edges of his boots to rid the entire mass of snow, shaking them a few times before extracting himself from the sleeping bag and rising up into a boot at a time. A brave Dersian approaching uncomfortable but familiar territory, far braver than the Prospitians who were already in their worst element with more to come in their future.

    “Oof.. It's not as bad once the rest of you is out in it,” he promised, rubbing down his legs and the sides of his arms before traipsing off through the far side of their camp to the brush, knocking balanced snow like piles of sugar down from the tops of low bent branches as he passed them by. In the stillness of the morning it was honestly gorgeous out there, cold or not, standing as a stark wonderland of crystals and soft grays and blues over glistening white. It nearly made it worth it to have to get out of bed and start moving.

    Nearly.

    “You're a filthy liar, Dave, but I still love you,” said John as he slowly extracted himself from his own nest with a displeased shiver. “Oh what I'd give for my fireplace.. Or a hot bath. Or a hot bath with breakfast on a tray to the side,” he groaned.

    “Hot bath when we're in Derse, and breakfast is from the bags.”

    “Can we warm it,” John asked hopefully, already knowing the answer long before Jake sighed and shook his head. “All the more pity, then.”

    “We'll be able to have a better camp the further along we go. Eventually we'll have fire, even. We'll need to, to keep ourselves going and to help the horses,” said the elder prince as he too rose to face the day. “We're already going to be running them quite hard. Should rub them down before we set out again, actually.”

    “Poor things. I don't even want to be out here, I can't imagine they're thrilled to be away from their cozy pens,” came Dave's voice as he shuffled back into view, tucking his trousers into place beneath the top edge of his tunic.

    “The horses will survive, but I might not,” said John. “Isn't Derse colder than this? Are we just heading into an ice flow?”

    Dave's nod made him pout.

    “Derse gets colder than this, yes. But there's a chance we'll have missed the worst of it. And don't forget, we'll be able to have fire eventually! We'll be able to warm up when it gets colder out!”

    “When we stop. We'll be icicles while riding,” snuffled the younger prince as he rubbed his own arms and tramped off through the snow for his own turn with the bushes like a changing of the guard before a vast estate.

    “We're still in Prospit you know. How do you plan on surviving for any length of time in Derse if we're still there by this season next?” Dave asked as he crouched and grabbed his bedding, shaking it off before starting to roll it up tight. It'd be suitable to sit on till they headed out at least and would give him a comfortable place to eat his breakfast before the saddle once more claimed him. There wasn't much time to waste, but time was still precious.

    Jake seemed to be of similar mind, already following Dave's lead of wadding up his bedding before rummaging in the bags for some food. Cold jerky and a bit of bread wasn't that filling but it would be enough to start out with. The dry tug at the back of his tongue had him craving other, more familiar foods already. Oatmeal with thick cream and spices. Hot eggs and bacon. Melted cheese and ham over soft bread gently crisped by the heat of a fire. Hot, satisfying tea.. He had to rip his mind away from the pleasant things by the end of his meal, pulling up from the soothing bit of daydreaming in the fact of things that needed done. The horses needed rubbed down before the saddles could go on them, the rest of the camp needed packed and tucked away, and then they needed to get going as soon as possible.

    John's more even stride back to their disjointed circle was a welcome sight, and their simple breakfast was spent with a bit of conversation, teasing back and forth, discussion of the map Dave had found in his sleeping bag before to plan routes, and eventually even conversation towards the horses who continued to shuffle and make soft sounds where they were waiting. With gloved hands the animals were tended, the supplies were eventually loaded, and all too soon the trio were once more moving. They had their goal, and now had a better way to actually obtain it. So long as they kept a good clip, their escape plan should bear sweet Dersian fruit.

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

    The trio made good time over the next few days. The snow proved thicker as they progressed out of Prospit and into Skaia, keeping off the main roads whenever they drew too close to civilization whenever possible. A few times they had to resort to keeping their hoods firmly down and their ears closed to the world around them, walking in a line from one side of a town to the other without so much as looking up save for stops at different places that seemed likely to have some feed for the horses. At least in Skaia Dave didn't stick out nearly as much as he did in Prospit, though they all still gained a few curious glances just for how mismatched they appeared, a single small figure between two larger ones in absolute silence within earshot of others.

    Nights were cold, bitterly cold even when Jake decided that it was safe enough to start using fire, and none of them wanted to even imagine how impossible their travels would have been without Kanaya's expert sewing of the bedding. It wasn't all bad, though. To pass time between when the fire was first struck and when sleep claimed them they traded stories, the brothers regaling Dave with varying versions of adventures and incidents of their youth while he in turn told them of parts of his own home as if wanting to prepare them for the castle ahead. The horses were displeased with the extended time away from home, the unknown directions, the deer trails or the snowy paths that lay untouched ahead of them in the more out of the way locales. With the stark, darkened mountains of Derse in the distance, hope and trepidation sprung up in their hearts.

    John's introduction to Dave's homeland wasn't the most pleasant one. The horses kept spooking, reacting with displeasure to all the sounds around them in the distance, crackling branches breaking like glass and stone in the distance under the collected weight of the season. It made it almost impossible to tell what was environment and what was a threat, made worse by Dave's warnings. Most creatures in Derse were excellent hunters, used to the lush needle treed woodlands and craggy mountains, most of them ghostly pale or black as pitch and all bearing far more eyes than anyone outside of Derse seemed to feel was appropriate. Sharp teeth and claws, gigantic sizes and extreme stealth were another common trend among many of the beasts, though even the prey animals slid into that category of monstrosity. Jake was torn between wanting to hunt some of the creatures to eat or to capture one alive to study it. John said he'd be content to see no animals beyond mice till they arrived at the Dersian capital.

    “We may need to leave the horses soon,” Dave said at camp that night as he rubbed his hands by the fire that put off sweet white smoke from burning pine needles and sap. The night had come early on them once more, skies darker the deeper in Derse they went and the heavier fatigue hung over them as it had become imperative to take turns at keeping watch to avoid attack by creatures of the night or those loyal to the Dersian crown recognizing rogue Prospitian's on their territory.

    “So soon? Surely they could go longer,” Jake said, glancing upwards towards the sky before focusing on the pot again. Melted snow to refill their water skins, heated water to wash their faces and hands with in small amounts, then more snow and the foods that would be going in to making a soup. Not super filling when most of it was water, but they were going through their food faster than anticipated thanks to the weather and hunting was limited due to the snow and need to keep moving. Who knew such temperatures made food more urgent a need? “Is it because of the snow depth?”

    “Well. Yes and no,” Dave admitted, turning to pull the map closer to the light, tapping at it. “I remember this pass. The path is steep and narrow, it's usually best for foot travel.”

    “How does anyone transport anything from Derse to Skaia for trade with such inaccessible roads,” grumbled John, huddled close to the fire with the top and bottom ends of his bedding wrapped around his shoulders, wanting to be as covered as possible without actually taking off his boots to get into bed just yet. He knew this was Dave's homeland and that's why he seemed fairly comfortable with the same amount of warmth as he'd been dealing with through their journey, but it still made him more than a little jealous. If there were a way to sap some of Dave's ability to keep toasty with just basic layering, John would do it in a heartbeat.

    “Easily: they use roads made and maintained for trade, which tend to go around higher mountains as opposed to cresting the hills directly,” said Dave with a straight face. “But yes, the snow will be a problem for them I think. It'd be easier to shuffle on foot and not drop off the edges of things than to drive horses through the worst of it and hope they can get over the rock and ice. ...It'd be better to leave them somewhere nearer to people too, so they could be found and maybe taken in.”

    Jake's eyes flicked to their horses and his chest ached, but if something like that was to happen then it made sense to give them a chance instead of leaving them to fend for themselves in such hellish weather.

    “I wonder if they'd head back towards home. We're terribly far now, but they know the way I bet.”

    “If not,” John offered, “maybe they'd run into someone who's trying to follow us and they'd get help that way.”

    “Or they'd turn up on a farm where someone needed horses and couldn't afford them,” Dave added somewhat hopefully. “They're fine steeds and have done well by us. They'd probably settle in to new surroundings just fine and be tended by people who care, if they were needed.”

    “We're fleeing for your life at this point and here you are making me sentimental about the horses, Dave, you're a monster,” Jake said with a soft chuckle and a shake of his head. “Are there any villages ahead of us? Between here and the point they'd be most at risk, I mean. Are there alternate paths we could take? Would it be worth it to take the longer path?”

    “The longer path is way more populated, it's a trade route after all. We'd be running into more people every step of the way and you two don't exactly blend in with Dersian's.”

    “Maybe we could just say we're Skaian's with Prospitian ancestry,” John said. “I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with the idea of trying to drag all three of us over a mountain on foot. Aside from supplies and the extreme weather.. Dave, your sight still isn't that great. One wrong step and down you'd go, and then this entire trip would have been for naught.”

    Dave shot him a look and frowned. He'd been working on dealing with his limitations this entire time and had been making significant progress, or at least he felt he was. To bring it up like that almost felt like the progress somehow was undone, or wasn't worth enough. Worse, it brought up doubt like a multi-headed serpent on how able Dave would be able to handle the journey once it got tough all over again. “I wouldn't slip over a mountain just because of my eye. Any of us could fall, if the snow gave way in a poor direction or we weren't actually on solid ground.”

    “The more you talk, the more I think the risk of going the longer route would be better than pressing forward for the short one,” John said. “If there was less snow up here, maybe.. but it's going to get even deeper. How are we going to walk through that? How are we going to keep our supplies?”

    “We'd have to turn back a ways to go around,” Dave contended. “If we can get over this one hurdle, we'd be able to reach a village on the other side and be far closer to my home than if we went around. There's risk, yes, but I think it'd be best to stick to the plan. It's not like the snow will be up to my neck of anything, it's just not safe on horseback”

    “There's a LOT of risk.”

    “There's a lot of risk if we get seen too much, too. There's a better chance of scouts finding us in more populated areas, and two guys who look like they could be enemies might get some hostile things aimed at them that we really don't need.”

    “...Dave you're their prince, couldn't you just. Y'know. Waltz into the nearest farm house and request supplies and assistance? Explain that we're friendly? We're in Derse now-”

    “John, does every single person in your kingdom know what you look like?”

    “...Probably not,” he sighed, already knowing where this was going. They'd been over this before, but some part of him hoped that there was a new option hiding somewhere for him to sample from instead of the snow and ice and harder decisions. If only things could just be easy.

    “And if you were to disappear for an extended amount of time, maybe long enough to be presumed dead or lost forever, and then sudden reappeared, would anyone believe it? Who would believe some random guy was royalty, especially a random guy who smells like sweat and horses and smoke?”

    “I get it, I get it,” John said. “You can cut the spiel. It was me being kind of hopeful that we'd have an easier time of things, but the shorter way has more merit.”

    “Sometimes the easiest route just isn't the best one,” Dave shrugged. “Let's focus on the end goal though, it's far more fun. Like when we finally reach the capital and I can get us to my home properly. I look forward to seeing your faces as we enter the mountain's halls.”

    “Derse was always described so differently in books,” Jake said, stretching. He'd started carrying some extra tension at some point and didn't know what to do with himself to get rid of it other than fidget. What he'd give for a bit of wood and a knife to work at it with to keep his hands busy. Maybe make some arrows with bright tails. “I'd no idea till you started telling more of it that it's just as vicious as we'd been lead to believe but that the people aren't the vicious ones.”

    “Actually, speaking of wildlife. We're not like.. at risk of trolls or something awful up in the snowy peaks, are we?” John interrupted, squinting at Dave cautiously. “Dersian wildlife is terrifying and damn near everywhere with multiple eyes and pale hides, right? Would that count for snowy mountaintops too?”

    Dave laughed somewhat uneasily and smiled, but failed to answer.

    “...You do realize you're not quelling any of my fears, right?”

    Another laugh, albeit more like a giggle now.

    “You're just doing it on purpose now!”

    “John, I don't know if we'd even run into anything for sure! There's a lot out there and most of it's blood thirsty, yes, but it's not like every time you look at butterflies they'd be a hoard of those queer little creatures trying to suffocate people.”

    “Suffocating butterflies?” Jake asked, eyes widening.

    “Focus, that's not the point I'm trying to make,” Dave insisted. “We'll be fine. Absolutely fine! I mean. Sure there are some big cats up there potentially, and some other beasts, but we're not alone and we're not going to be toting horses with us, and the weather's snowy so. Should be fine.”

    Dave flopped over backwards away from the fire when the brothers continued to stare at him, questions and exclamations on their lips, and rubbed his face with his palms.

    “Y'know what? Never mind. I should have said we'd be facing elements and little else. It's not as if Prospit or Skaia is without its own predators, we're lucky we didn't run into wolves or something as it is. We'll get up there and need to focus just on getting to the next points more than we'd be needing to worry about anything hunting us.”

    “Dave you're making it worse,” John said. “Let's maybe, just maybe, change the topic entirely.”

    “I'm introducing you all to the glow worms and the heated baths the second it's acceptable to,” Dave grunted. “The glow worms because they're a pride and joy of my home and beautiful to see aside from just the mushrooms, and the baths because by everything holy we need them.”

    “There, that's more like it,” Jake chuckled. “Good chap.”

    “I just hope Dirk's not going to be.. well. Too Dirk-ish about this sudden appearance with company,” murmured Dave as he uncovered his face to look up to the low hanging ceiling of the wintery sky above. “That's one thing I'm not entirely certain about....Maybe if I send a bird ahead of us? A bit of warning that I'm alive and well and coming? You'd just be a surprise.”

    “Anyone could pretend to be you, though?” John pointed out.

    “My handwriting is a mess and hard to copy,” he said. “I'd also be able to tuck in a few quips that he'd be able to recognize as entirely me and me alone. Convincing my brother is very different from convincing someone who's never seen the royal family and aside from paying tax to the people in charge of their towns have little care or interest in who is above them.”

    “If we don't get devoured by some dire beast in the mountain's upper recesses then we'll get you in position to send a bird one way or another,” Jake promised, grin widening to a bucktoothed smirk when Dave shot him a withering look. He couldn't help but laugh, John following in his wake as Dave began to complain in a language they could only pick out parcels from.

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

    The horses were left behind the next day. Jake had removed items from their backs with a solemn face, John helping with worry in his eyes. Dave stroked their noses gently and cooed to keep them distracted and hopefully lighten his own mood. The snow had begun to fall once more in thick fat flakes, and part of him worried that this was the wrong choice somehow. The short way was the quickest way to home, was safer in the long run, left less to the fates. Yet it wasn't enough of an assurance to soothe the upset pangs in his stomach that were crying out their failure.

    “Dave, here. Slip this one on,” John said as he approached, looping a bag onto the Dersian's back and cinching it comfortably into place before shuffling back to his brother. The larger were carrying more weighty bundles of supplies, but they'd divvied enough up to Dave as well so that it would at least be even as much as ability allowed. Strong as the Prospitian's were, they couldn't move mountains for long before burning out.

    When the horses were stripped down to the saddles, Jake turned them back towards home with his own fond words and soft thank yous. John was the one who reached forward to swat their hindquarters, startling them both into runs through the snow and out of sight down the road they'd come. If they stuck to the road, they'd reach humans after a while. If they wandered, they'd reach civilization of some form at least.

    They remained three figures in the dimming light, staring the way the horses had disappeared till long after they'd lost sight of them, tracing their feelings of connection till they were entirely broken. It felt far more remote all at once. Lonesome in the wilderness, the world around them hushed save for the soft tinkle of snowflakes hitting one another falling from on high. Slowly they turned around to stare at the mountains ahead, their last obstacle before the final leg of the journey that wound end with the kingdom beneath Dersian stone.

    John reached over and planted a hand on Dave's shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and flashed him a grin.

    “Let's get walking, we can get high as we can before we set up camp and you tell me I reek again. Real romance hours here on this honeymoon.”

    Dave snorted a laugh and started to walk, while Jake pulled up the opposite side laughing aloud.

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

    Camp had been hard won the first night, sleeping cold and painful after the exhausting movements through the snow, on edge at first from what they could have sworn was a scream from far away. They'd slept like the dead once the initial panic had given way to laughter and convincing they'd misheard, eaten an unsatisfying breakfast, and gone back to the grind of climbing elevation like ill placed mountain goats. The paths were narrow and fairly winding, zig zagging back and forth on themselves like serpents to make ascent and descent easier in clear weather. In poor weather like this it was important to eye the white on white of the edge of the fallen snow for the vaguely rounded out shapes or edges and drops in the paths, so as to not simply walk over a ledge and face first into a broken neck.

    Jake had slipped and fallen twice, once in a minor way and once more seriously over a ledge, sliding down and landing flat on his ass against stone hard enough his tail bone ached. John had misjudged a gap and fallen backwards to snow down his jacket, and a second time he fell on purpose to chase after a falling Dave who'd thought a turn was further away than it was and slid down at least three bends worth of path ass over teakettle before coming to a bewildered stop.

    The second camp was going to be at the crest, hard won as it was, but there had been second thoughts the second the trio realized just how fucking frigid the wind was up there even in the sleeping bags with their layers on. There was no protection but scraggly bits of trees that managed to grow at the elevation, and they didn't trust themselves to try working on the descent in the same day when the sun had fallen that far. Not if they wanted anywhere safe to bed down in the evening. Better to capture the peak at dawn, when they could be more certain of what lay ahead of them and beneath their feet. Now if only they could actually sleep..

    Jake opted for a fire when they'd set up, using some of the scraggly brush and pine to make a fire of white smoke and warm resin scent to warm up by. Both Prospitian's huddled close to the fireside, teeth chattering, hands held close to the flame as they could get away with without singeing their gloves. Dave, though better suited for this weather, was still quite some time away from the more extreme shades due to his time in Prospit and just as uncomfortable. Nobody had much appetite, though each did manage to force something down.

    “I'll stay up first,” Jake offered. “You two get as much sleep as you can, then we can trade.”

    “Why even stay up, I'm sure we'd be fine this high up,” John mumbled. “Just sleep with us and we'll all get going at first light.”

    “No can do, John. After all: we're using a fire at a high point with a lot of visibility,” he pointed out. “Even if it's a small one, it's still a point to draw attention with to man and beast alike. ...I'd feel better if someone was awake during this.”

    “Best keep away the mountain trolls that don't exist,” John said, pausing awkwardly at the end of his sentence before sneezing hard enough the fire briefly waved away from him before returning at full force with a resounding crackle and pop upright towards the night sky.

    “They exist, John. I just don't know quite where a predator would be hiding, it's not like I've spent my life up in the mountains traveling on foot to know their patterns, that's more a question to ask a huntsman.”

    “Bah.”

    “Don't bah me, you're not a damned sheep.”

    “Yes I am. I'm the baa baa black sheep, and I've plenty of wool. Only right now it's away in three bags in the market, because it sure as fuck isn't here keeping me warm.”

    Dave reached a tired leg over to poke him in the side with his boot, shoving him till he smirked.

    “We're nearly there, either way,” yawned Dave. “Just down this other side, and then we can find our way towards home far easier. Brief pause to write my brother first. But you get the idea.”

    “We've been 'nearly there' for so long I'm starting to forget what 'there' actually is,” Jake sighed. “I keep daydreaming about food, too.”

    “We still have supplies,” John said.

    “Supplies but I'd hardly call survival food real food, not like home,” he grumbled. “The kitchens were excellent at their presentation, and the servants always knew about the right time I'd start wanting a cup of something hot.”

    “I wonder what the weather is like at home right now,” John said. “..Do you think it's warmed up enough there yet for Jade to not be cooped up in her room in furs?”

    “We're far away but we're not changing the weather,” Jake reminded him, poking the fire with a stick to stir up more red hot sparks into the dark air above them. Dave shifted to his side and peeled his boots off, stuffing his legs down into the bedding. He kept his gloves on, using them to pillow his head as he watched the light with his strange eyes. “It's still early enough in the season she'd be in her room a little longer. ..Though, with our disappearing act I believe she's likely going to be stuck chasing after us for a time once the order's given.”

    “Even if she won't be finding us,” corrected John. “If Jade was going to find us by now, she'd have already gotten us.”

    “True to the word then, with that head start and delay. ...I hope we can repay her someday.”

    “We will. We'll get back to Prospit someday, once everything is better. Or at least get word to her,” John promised. “One step at a time, yeah?”

    One step at a time indeed. John shuffled to get into his sleeping bag as well, though only his lower half. His upper half flopped on top of Dave's sleeping bag, pestering him with his weight till the blonde gave way to squabbling and trying to squirm out from underneath his laughing form. Young lovers were idiots, but at least they were lovable Jake decided. Seeing them like this filled him with extra vigor that they'd indeed done the right thing. They never would have been able to keep this in Prospit.

    “Jane and Jade both deserve the world for what we've done,” Jake hummed. “Come now. Try to sleep, we can get up early and get off this damned mountain sooner. Down great height should go faster than up great height, yes?”

    “It should. Y'know, if we walk normally and don't slip and fall and roll down to our dooms,” Dave grunted. “It'd be faster in one sense, but we'd probably be dead at the bottom of pretty mangled. Not to mention being perfect food for the creatures lurking at the bottom. Tasty nuggets of morsels they'd normally need to work fo-”

    “I get the idea,” said John, wallowing on Dave a bit further to muffle his upper half. The barely there squawks were comical to hear, a bird beneath a sleeping blanket crying about the unfairness of it all before growing sleepy. It'd been a long climb in snow and chill wind, and short legs and less vision just made it all the harder with weight bearing down on his back all day. “Enough doom and gloom.”

    “It's not doom and gloom!” Dave insisted, trying to pop his head out from underneath John's mass to continue talking.

    “Then it's negative and I'm tired, and goodnight Dave,” John said instead. He rolled further, squashing Dave once more before rolling off him to settle around the fire. It was a bit of a triangle pattern tonight, as much body facing the fire as possible. He settled on his side so his face would be warmer beneath the covering and nestled down into the toasty cocoon to signal the end of his contributions.

    Dave grumbled at him and shuffled his hand over his own bedding a few times to rid it of snow, sending it over to the side where the stomped flat space of their campsite ended. Instead of curling up to sleep right away, he sat back up and watched the fire instead for the various pops and crackles. When Jake puffed against his gloves and made to move his hands close to the fire once more he finally looked up to make eye contact with his fellow traveler.

    “Are you sure you want first watch? I could manage it if you wanted some rest first. So long as I'm not moving much I can keep awake.”

    Jake shook his head and grinned.

    “No can do, Dave. It's my routine now, and I'm a creature of habit once my wild larks are accounted for and everything's lining up like genteel daisies. I'll wake you second if you'd like, though.”

    “Might as well. I really can't imagine there being much at the very peak for us to worry about. There's not much cover up here, and it's not like it's full of caves,” he said as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand and wrist. “But the few things that might be here..”

    “Wouldn't need to want for cover as it's the top of the list,” Jake chuckled. “I know. Don't worry, no need to repeat yourself Dave. I'm well armed and plenty awake.. and we've wonderful lights whenever the clouds clear up,” he added as he gestured upwards with a hand to where a break in the inconsistent fluffy masses let through eerily crisp moonlight and more stars than either of them had ever seen in one sitting despite seeing the same sky so many times before in their lives.

    “Wow.. I know we saw them lower down in little flashes, but there's so many up here..”

    “We're closer to the heavens up here, it's no wonder we're getting glimpses of the bright hope those of the past get to enjoy each day.”

    Dave smiled a bit and rubbed at his own elbows. That was kind of a poetic way to think of things, wasn't it?

    “If you're really sure you don't want me to stay up first,” Dave began, only to be quickly interrupted by a boisterous Jake.

    “Yes, I'm quite sure Dave. What's begun cannot end so suddenly and all that, I'll not be admitting defeat to sleep for a while yet. Try to have some good dreams before it's your turn, make the best of it.”

    “Can you two be quiet?? Some of us sensible people are trying to sleep,” grumbled John from his muffled den. The fire popped loudly on a bit of sap as if agreeing with him, echoing out over the mountain that otherwise sat silent in the occasional breeze.

    He rolled his eyes before glancing to Jake, who chuckled softly and shook his head as he gestured downwards. Somewhat obediently, Dave was soon curled up and positioned in his space around the fire, body curled up to create and conserve heat best he could while the remaining Prospitian held guard.

    It was a peaceful night, even if it was eerily quiet. Jake knew a bit better than to trust the surface, however. For every crackle and spurt of the fire there were sounds like breaking branches further out in the distance down the mountain's way they'd come from, or crunching snow and ice underfoot. Under paw? Under something heavy that didn't let his attention wander very far from his weapon or the sleepers for long no matter how beautiful it was in the sky. There was no need to risk joining those in the heavens just because of a slip up at a bad time. He closed his eyes after a time to listen, wanting to focus on the sounds more than seeing the fire, hoping his eyes would adjust quickly if he needed to turn and fire at something at an acceptable distance. A dangerous choice. The warmth on his face and chest was soothing and made his blood pump sweetly through the chill in his limbs, wanted to make his thoughts slow, but it was the quickest way to differentiate distance. A crackle in the fire, a pop further in the distance. A soft crunch as Dave shifted in his sleeper, a soft crunch far away.

    A bird? No, far too large to be a bird, and it was late. Deer? Potentially. But it sounded like a single source, not a group. Perhaps a lone deer or some other creature on all fours then, if such a thing were possible.

    Jake's head drooped to his chin for a half second before he jerked it up, adrenaline surging from the near mistake of falling asleep. No, stupid, fight it! Focus on the sounds! He cursed under his breath and clenched his fists a few times into tight balls, shifted his weight to wiggle his legs a bit in hopes the heated blood would course further through his body and disperse the sleepy feeling.

    Crunching. The sound of shifting rock, a breaking branch. It was possible this was all just the sounds of nature up here, that this was totally normal for a Dersian night on a snowy mountain and he was jumping at shadows of innocent beasts that were simply curious about the light, but at the same time it was possible this was the very real threats that lay in wait for weary travelers. His heart started to hammer when he heard more crunching coming closer, though the louder it hot.. indeed it seemed the more there was. Unable to resist any longer, Jake opened his eyes and jerked his head to the side to stare out into the darkness for the source, already prepared to draw his bowstring back.

    Deer, though not the white tailed variety he was used to seeing in Prospit. One large deer one was trailing ahead of the others, a buck with an impressive rack of tangled horns atop its thick looking head stood silvery white in the moonlight, blinking at him with four reflectively bright eyes. Its herd, similarly silvery white but not nearly as grand in appearance, hung back somewhat warily in their following steps. They listened to all directions same as he had been, cautious, wary, prepared to bolt at a moment's notice.

    Jake loosened his grip on the bow and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Okay, deer he could handle. Easy there, this was merely a group passing through. It must be later than he realized, a few hours closer to dawn than anticipated.

    “Hello there, you handsome thing.. It's winter now, shouldn't I be seeing an owl instead..? Or is it different because we're in Derse,” he said in a soft whisper, not wanting to startle the creature or its herd. It really was a sight to behold, part of him wished that John and Dave were awake to show them as well, but the other part was satisfied to be having this private moment between himself and nature. A secret to hold close to his heart. The creature flicked an ear and moved its head a bit, staring towards the fire and his silhouetted form in front of it, but the members of its herd seemed too on edge to do much more than stand and wait on edge. This was a relatively exposed area compared to further down, perhaps the other side of the cliff would hold something tasty for them in the early dawn hours ahead of them.

    Jake barely heard it before seeing it, the large white mass that hurled itself up against the side of the buck before the snow was sprayed with red, the herd that had been waiting in the wings turning tail and scattering back the way they'd come in a thunder of snow and hooves as the buck let out a horrible noise of pain. Dave and John jolted awake but were still trapped in their bedding, trying to fight their way out while half awake. Jake could only stare wide eyed in shock for a moment, mouth open and expression horrified before he registered what his hands really needed to be doing. Right, yes, of course, weapon! The weapon! He notched the arrow and jumped to his feet, pulling the bowstring back towards his cheek as he took aim at the figure that now that crouched over the barely kicking body of the buck.

    The face that looked up towards him, painted red, multi-eyed and sharp teeth bared, could almost be called humanoid. The fact it had claws, horns, and shaggy fur hanging from its body quickly dismissed that concept but it was close enough to looking humanoid that it made his blood go chill. Was this the mountain troll then? Or was it something else that called the snowy peaks of Derse home? It was a standoff between Jake and the beast as John and Dave tried to orient themselves, panic in the jerky way they sought their weapons and turned to face the same way that Jake had frozen like a statue in. Waiting. Holding fire to conserve arrows, hoping it would just take the deer and leave them alone behind.

    No such luck. The beast stared and seemed to contemplate its options before slowly rising upwards to its feet, large size masked slightly by the curve of its back from a heavy slouch, long arms ending in sharp hands that curled into loose fists. It remained crouched, prepared, before letting out an awful shriek that sounded far too similar to the noise they'd been so sure of mishearing at the other camp. It hadn't been their imaginations or someone needing help: it had been this creature off in the distance of the mountainside, perhaps doing just as it was doing now as it fended off other creatures from its freshly killed supper.

    “Easy!” Jake said loudly, as if trying to measure up to its pitch as an intimidation tactic. As if he weren't more than a little shaky in his shoes. This wasn't just hunting a deer or some wild thing in Prospit, this was a fucking monster and it was hungry and oh, fuck, what if he hadn't fought Dave's offer and slept instead this thing would have crept up on all of them and-

    It shrieked again, a high icy wail before launching forwards, sinking its claws into the snow and propelling itself forward in a bounding run, closing ground with astounding speed given the condition of the terrain around them. Jake fired, whiffed the shot just over its bounding shoulder, and cursed as he bent to snatch his quiver up over his shoulder.

    “JOHN!” shouted Jake as he swerved backwards and away from the fire to notch another arrow, wanting distance to be more effective. If that creature wanted him specifically it would need to go through the wall of fire that now stood between them. Dave's stance had lowered, prepared to counter attack, and John's had gone aggressive as he charged forward with a shout of his own to swing his hammer down and upwards. He nailed the shoulder Jake had missed, making the beast wobble and veer before it tried to counteract it, kicking off the ground to lurch the direction of its stronger arm with its uninjured legs. It needed traction, it needed to change its running style if it couldn't work the way it was used to any longer. Dave remained nearer the fire, but continued to stand ready with his blade.

    “How the fuck did it get this close?! Jake did you fall asleep?” he cried.

    “No! There were deer and it just. It was just there suddenly, I swear on my life!” Jake said as he let fly another arrow, already notching another as he fell back a few paces further when he realized he'd hit it in the flank but it was still charging angrily. John readied another swing and then shied back in front of the fire when the beast took a swipe then veered away again to wheel back for him. It was trying to gain speed, perhaps to knock him to the flame itself since he wasn't running away or backing up like the others had been.

    “Dave! Go for the head! Don't let it get up easily if it can get up at all!”

    “Obviously, why would I want it to get up?!”

    All three were silently praying that if Dave took a swing, he'd be able to aim properly and the strike would hit home at the right angle instead of hitting off one of its curled horny protrusions or missing the neck for all the fur in the way.

    Another shriek, another shudder down their spines, and it charged for John as he lifted his arms and exposed his unguarded midsection like a sacrifice, knees bent in a crouch. He sprung back and rolled the swing to the side, catching the mountain troll directly in the abdomen, forcing it to stagger forwards to the fire itself. It caught itself on its uninjured arm just as the fire started to touch its fur in the center, blank eyed and furious, starting to lurch forward towards Dave trailing embers and ashes like falling red stars over the stomped snow of their campsite. The Dersite steadied, grit his teeth, and moved towards it instead of away to deliver the strike directly to the throat before it could rise too high to its feet. He failed to back away after the twisted body delivery, however, and wound up beneath the angry creature as it began to bleed out, jaws trying to clamp at him, both clawed hands scrabbling at the snow and the edges of his body as it tried to find precisely where he was beneath it.

    Jake's arrow caught it between the eyes before it could chomp him effectively, however, leaving the troll limp and heavy on top of his traveling partner. His brother had already dropped his hammer and gone to one of the troll's arms, digging his heels into snow while he yanked hard as he could manage in order to free Dave from its bulk. The blonde emerged in one piece, splashed with steaming blood in the chill air, and laughing. It was a high nervous laughter, rolling from his chest and shaking his shoulders as he held tight to his sword with a slick hand. The laughing continued even when John hugged him tight, almost frantic from adrenaline, before it finally wound down to a few chuckles. Finally however it was silent save for three humans breathing hard and the occasional movement of branches in the frigid breeze. Jake kept an arrow notched and at the ready, not able to trust that the monster had been alone nor that anything else wouldn't come now that there was death and fresh blood in the air. Free food ripe for the taking.

    “You did great,” John murmured against Dave's hair, rocking with him for a minute or so till Dave finally dropped his sword and hugged him tight around the middle.

    “I thought I was going to miss,” he admitted. “Then it was biting and.. Fuck. Fuck,” he said softer, voice barely there. That had been far too close for comfort, especially with the incident from the stairs being so fresh in his memory. “Are you two okay?”

    “Yeah, it didn't get me at all.”

    “I've been clear away the whole time,” Jake said, averting his eyes to look around in the darkness. “Though, I think it'd be in all our best interest to tidy up quick as we can and clear away from this entire site.”

    “No shit,” said John. “...Wait, did you even sleep Jake?”

    “Not yet, but I hope you'll understand me when I said I've no interest in snoozing just now, John,” he said, gesturing with his bow and chin. “Would you mind rolling my bedding up tight and tucking it into my pack? I'd prefer to keep watch right now.”

    “No. I mean, yeah. I mean no, I understand,” John assured him. Dave was already pulling away to grasp some snow, rubbing it against himself after wadding it up to wash some of the blood off his face. There was no saving the clothes from the stains he'd bear, but hopefully people would be understanding that coming down from the mountains on foot would be a sign of having run into trouble in some shape or form.

    The far side of the mountain was still and quiet, the air from their mouths hot and steaming to clouds of fog ahead of them, and their thoughts were full of fear. They didn't know enough about these creatures to safely assume anything. Were they pack hunters? Were they solo? Would anything out here take the left behind food as an offering, or would they track the fresh scent of blood they carried in their party now? The soft glimmer of light past of the foot of the mountain, far in the distance, should have been a sign of great comfort. Instead it was a grim reminder that despite having survived this long and this far, there was still quite some ground to cover till they reached other humans.. and longer yet till they reached the throne.

    Onward, exhausted and anxious, they walked.

#homestuck #dave strider #john egbert #jake english #my fic

[bowsie22]

Scamandore Collection 18

Summary: Albus used to hates summers. Spending them alone in Hogwarts, remembering why he can never go home. But now? He’s counting down the days until his summer holidays and wondering where his husband will take him next.

Inspiration for this prompt came from @scamandeering-beauxbatons who wrote this amazing head canon https://scamandeering-beauxbatons.tumblr.com/post/182250458948   Go and give them all your love and reblogs!

Three days left and then it was time for the holidays. Albus was nearly more excited for it than his students. It still made Armando laugh, the contrast between Albus now and the Albus of five years ago.

“What do you mean you’re staying here?”

Armando was horrified. Albus wasn’t serious, was he?

“I mean what I said. I have no home or family to go to and no friends to stay with.”

Oh sweet Merlin, he was serious.

“You have us. I consider you a friend, as do the other professors.”

“And that’s very sweet Armando, thank you. But you need to spend time with your families too. And at this late stage, everyone has plans already. No, I’ll stay at Hogwarts. We can meet up in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley?”

“That would be lovely.”

Armando smiled sadly as the younger man walked to his classroom. He understood Albus’ hesitation. His last close friendship hadn’t ended particularly well, but it concerned Armando, how Albus closed himself off to other people. Maybe he just needed someone who could help him heal, who could make him happy.

And it happened. Six years ago, Albus ran into Newt Scamander in Diagon Alley. The two reconnected over a drink and Albus realised that this was no longer the little boy he’d drag out of the Forbidden Forest at all hours of the day. Newt had grown into a handsome young man. Within a year, the two were married.

And so, here he was. The first day of the summer holidays, taking a Portkey to the Amazon rainforest to meet his husband.

“Albus!”

With a grunt, Albus caught Newt in his arms, laughing as the younger man peppered his face with kisses. Finally, Albus managed to catch his mouth, the two getting lost in each other, the kiss quickly turning passionate. Newt pulled himself away, laughing as Albus chased after him.

“Stop, stop it! We have a long trek to my camp, so we can’t waste time here.”

“We can’t apparate?”

“No, I’m afraid that the local shamans have set up wards and rune stones to prevent apparition within the forest. So, let’s go.”

Looking back at his husband, Newt laughed at the disappointed look on the older man’s face. With a laugh, Newt tugged him into another kiss.

“Don’t worry. My case is in a very secluded, private place. We can be as loud as we like.”

“So, what are the plans?”

Newt grinned up at his husband, accepting the tea the older man offered.

“Well, we’re here for four weeks and then the rest of the summer in England. You have time to plan for the year ahead and I can continue my studies in the Forbidden Forest. Sound good?”

“Sounds amazing.”

Albus pressed a soft kiss to Newt’s cheek, amazed that Newt had planned for his planning.

“I do love you.”

“I love you too. And I have something special for you.”

Albus raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face.

“The underwear last night was special enough.”

Newt flushed, still not used to Albus directness when it came to sex.

“Well, you’ll be thrilled to know I bought more, but no! Stop distracting me.”

“Forgive me darling. What is this other surprise?”

“You are going to train with the shamans. Once a year, shamans from every tribe meet for a week to strengthen the repelling wards and share any new spells or healing herbs they’ve found. I managed to get you in there.”

Albus knew from experience with Newt that the indigenous people of the countries they visited were quite secretive about their magical practice.

“How did you manage that?”

“I’ve been here before and captured some dangerous creatures that were putting people at risk. They offered this chance when I said that my husband was a teacher.”

“This is almost better than last night. Oh darling, how can I ever thank you?”

Newt giggled. He’d never seen Albus this excited before.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

The Annual Gathering was amazing. There was so much to learn. The shamans knew so much, most of it would have never occurred to Albus. How they used their surroundings in their spells, connecting to the nature around them and drawing power from it on a level Albus knew he never could. It was awe inspiring. And they were more than happy to share this knowledge with Albus, even if his attempts were laughable. He didn’t have the same skills, the same knowledge that the shamans had. He’d learned so much and he was excited to show Newt. He’d asked for medicines and spells to help magical creatures, which the shamans were only too happy to give. It made Albus realise how behind the more developed wizarding world was when it came to their treatment of magical creatures. It had only been one day and already Albus was exhausted. He wasn’t sure he’d survive the rest of the week.

By the time they left the Amazon, Albus was dead on his feet. He spent the entire journey home sleeping in Newt’s case. But Albus was happy. He spent a week learning so much about magic, where it came from, where it went. It was something he would have never learned if he spent his summers in Hogwarts. Looking at Newt, who saw in front of the fire in Albus’ room, brushing Dougal’s fur, he realised that Newt had actually changed his life. Gone was the lonely man who was afraid to make a connection with another person. Instead, Albus had more friends than ever before, had travelled to parts of the world that he had never imagined seeing and learned some of the most amazing things from amazing people. He added the sugar to Newt’s tea and moved the Niffler onto his lap, away from his cufflinks.

“Are you alright? It took you a very long time to make that cup of tea.”

Albus hummed, wrapping an arm around Newt’s waist and pulling the smaller man into his side, pressing a kiss into the bush Newt called hair.

“Absolutely fine. Just wondering where we were going to go next summer.”

#scamandore #scamandore collection

[shirtlesssammy]

14x06: Optimism

Then:

The Then Bot automatically triggers this gif when we haven’t seen Cas in a while. I don’t make the rules. (But the opener was excellent this week!)

Now:

We open to not one, but two! people wearing tan coats this episode. Maybe Sears was having a tan coat fire sale when wardrobe was scouting for outfits? I don’t know how else to explain this situation.

One person is Harper, the local library worker. She makes plans to see Winston later that night, but Miles sneaks up with his handy red stapler to defend her honor or something.

Harper then throws libraries under the bus.

My reaction as a librarian working at a busy public library:

Winston, ebullient that his date is confirmed, heads out and struts down the sidewalk with the Bee Gee’s setting his stride. 

LOL. What the hell, show? Poor Winston doesn’t get to finish the song in his head OR go on that date with Harper because he’s yanked into the bushes, leaving nothing but the black goo canon splatter as evidence.

Meanwhile at the bunker, we learn that Jack doesn’t like food as much now that he’s lost his grace (not so much like your father after all…) and that Sam went to meet up with Charlie for an exciting case.

Jack reiterates to Dean that no one blames Dean for Michael, but Dean counters that he blames himself and that’s all that really matters in Dean’s mind. Jack then suggests they go on a hunt. Winston Mathers is dead and he had human bite marks on him. Dean suggests that he’ll go alone, but Jack reminds him of the buddy system. Jack needs to do something to take his mind off the guilt he has for not taking out Michael when he had the chance. (Good lord, he is a Winchester.)

Sam and Charlie continue their stakeout at a bus stop. Charlie brought along books. Sam is her new best friend.

Dean and Jack pull up to Dicks Red Rooster Diner (where’s the possessive apostrophe??) and try to interview the LEAST FRIENDLY diner worker in the world. (Natasha: You might say she’s a real...dick.) Winston is dead. That’s all she knows. And that they should look in to Harper Sayles.

*Classic Jack Moment Alert*

Jack: What’s courting?

Dean: It’s what you do before you start dating.  

Jack: Ah, and that’s the thing you do before the sex.

Our little nephilim is growing up so fast! The diner worker adds, “Sometimes you just have the sex.” Dean literally moves a decorative rooster away and tries to get the conversation back on track. OH DEAN.

They interview locals to get a better picture of Harper: Sweet, lonely, prom queen, boyfriend who ditched her, men disappear on her, loves romance novels.

At the stakeout Sam is busy worrying about Dean when Charlie reassures him that Dean’ll be fine. He then tells her about how Dean used to have a wingman in our Charlie (uh, DEAN LITERALLY HAS A WINGMAN RIGHT NOW.) But this scene is sobering to realize that this Charlie is not our Charlie. She tells the story of meeting the love of her life, Kara (she owned a bakery outside of Chicago and smelled like peaches and had a smile that made Charlie’s face light up in such a way that made me ache and cry for someone I’ll never even see on this show. guh.) She then tells what happened when Michael and Lucifer started their war. Their world fell apart and Kara died. Sam says, “Not here.” Charlie responds, “Not yet.” Hahaha, that world didn’t have Sam Fucking Winchester and his brother.

At the diner, Dean eats pie and Jack asks about the birds and the bees. Dean’s gonna give Jack “the talk”. First, they need to investigate Harper.

At the library, Dean starts interrogating Harper when Jack interrupts. Dean tells the kid to back off and Jack tells the old man to back off. Dean’s FACE. He does not like to be called old. He takes off. The music swells, and Harper, impressed with Jack coming to her rescue, thanks him and stares and stares.

Harper and Jack take off for her apartment. Miles shows up again, but is rebuffed again. He heads to the alley and while Dean starts to follow Jack and Harper, he hears Miles scream and takes a detour. Miles is dead on the ground.

At the stakeout, Charlie tells Sam that this is her last case. She hates hunting and just wants to live on a mountaintop with good wifi. So much to unpack with that little conversation.

At Harper’s apartment, she goes to find a book for Jack while Jack lays the usual hunter traps --silver, holy water, coughing ‘Christo’. OH JACK.

Charlie thinks they’re dealing with a Musca --a human/fly hybrid.

Jack asks Harper about her boyfriend, Vance. He wanted to leave town, but Harper wanted to stay. He left, and Harper’s bad luck started. Jack and Harper keep staring and bonding while soft music fills the scene. This is so not romantic, folks.

*Classic Jack Moment Alert II*

Harper: Jack, do you believe in love at first sight?

Jack: Do you...mind if I use the bathroom?

Once in the bathroom, Jack calls Dean to tell him that she’s not a monster and that he’s 99% sure that she’s in love with him. Dean disagrees. All the same, Jack needs to know everything about sex. Go. While on the phone, Dean is attacked!

Jack heads back into Harper’s living room. She invites him out for coffee (ooo, like a date?) when Dean busts in. “Hey, I work with Jack. We’re here to save lives. Maybe yours.” And then the pounding begins in earnest on the door. Something growls fiercely in the hallway, slamming against the front door. Dean spots a photo of Harper’s ex boyfriend on the counter. It turns out that Vance - the one who moved away - has returned as a zombie.

Jack smuggles Harper out while Dean tangles with “Archie” the crazed red-headed undead in a letterman’s jacket.

The fight goes swimmingly (very poorly), but Jack and Harper escape.

Meanwhile, Sam and Charlie continue their stakeout. Sam tries to convince Charlie to stick around but she tells him sharply that, “It’s my life, Sam. Not hers, and not yours.” This is such a wonderful, valid point. I’m so glad to see Charlie sticking up for herself and validating her unique existence.

They don’t have much time to lock horns on the issue, though, because the strange Doctor Who villain has returned to sit creepily next to other bus stop denizens.

A bus rolls up and when it pulls away they just manage to catch a glimpse of the guy from the bus stop getting dragged away down an alley. They give chase.

Back with Dean, Vance gives up mid-fight and races outside to pursue Harper. Jack and Harper hide in the library, lock the door, and turn out the light. Nobody will ever think to look for her there…

Sam and Charlie zero in on a slimy door and brainstorm options. They don’t have a brass nail dipped in sugar water - the traditional instrument of destruction - so they’ll have to improvise. They bust inside and find a warehouse full of stinking meat and the cloying scent of pine fresh. Flies fill the air in a terrible symphony.

They find a pile of bodies and the monster’s briefcase. The briefcase is full of a chloroformed handkerchief and a megaton of pinefresh air fresheners. They find the victim - who’s still alive. Unfortunately for them, so is the fly monster. It attacks first Charlie, then Sam, and totally bugs out on them.

For Costuming Science

They work together to kill the fly, shooting it in the head. It’s...juicy. But dead! Good work, guys.

Back in the library, Harper and Jack watch the doors of the library warily as they hunker behind the circulation desk. Harper sneaks up to lock the front door, when Vance arrives at the door. They stare at each other and then Harper opens the door and lets in her ex boyfriend. He hands her a book and Harper swoons and goes in for the kiss. “He’s my boyfriend,” Harper announces. “He just gets a little jealous sometimes.”

“But he’s dead. And stalking you.” Poor Jack does NOT compute. Undead, ultra-possessive Vance has to eat flesh to maintain his body, and has eaten a succession of Harper’s suitors. She’s cool with it, though. It’s just like a sex game, right? RIGHT?

Vance stalks Jack through the library while Harper waits primly at the circulation desk. “I come from a long line of necromancers,” Harper confesses over the intercom. She killed Vance to keep him in town after college, and then killed every unsuitable suitor after that.

Dean sneaks up on Jack in the library and they share a whispered plan of attack. Just a short while later, Jack approaches Harper and gives her a romantic monologue about why she should choose him instead of Vance. He’s alive, for one thing. They can settle down in town and also, did he mention, he’s alive? 

Vance doesn’t take kindly to this and attacks, but Dean pens him in and shoots him. Harper watches the violence while Dean tries to bargain with crazy, undead Vance. “This isn’t love, not anymore...You have to eat people to stay together? Is that romantic, huh?” Nice try, Dean. Harper orders Vance to kill Dean but it’s too late. Jack and Dean grab hold of Vance’s arms and cuff him to the security checkpoint. Harper escapes out of the front door.

Charlie and Sam drive home after their hunt. The recent Musca abductee survived and the fly guy is dead. Sam preaches a sermon to Charlie about how the Musca striking out on his own and leaving his family led to his demise. Charlie scoffs at Sam’s metaphor. “I wasn’t looking for love. I found it, and I lost it. And I didn’t kill people and nest in their body parts.” Accurate!

This discussion is intercut with scenes of the Musca collecting their fallen dead, loading him onto a stretcher to presumably bring him home. It’s beautiful, and a little surreal - a token of a community’s love even when one of their members has gone so terribly astray.

Sam gives up the metaphor, because he’s a smart guy. “Don’t leave,” he says simply. Sam insists that hunters do good in the world, and that goodness can spread just as much as the bad. “That’s worth it, even with all the tears and death.” This is such a wholesome, healthy thing for Sam to say.

“Just to be super clear, I am not like the fly monster,” Charlie tells Sam. But she’ll think about staying. (Staaaaay, Charlie, staaaaay!)

I love this very relevant quote of the day from Jason Fischer’s Twitter account from Thursday: 

At the cock a doodle dick diner, Harper sits and pens a juvenile note to Jack. “I am not crazy,” she insists in her love letter. LOL. She’s finally been convinced to leave town so she can track down Jack, kill him, resurrect him with her dark magic, and date him forever. How...sweet. 

She addresses the letter to Jack Smith, care of the Lebanon post office. Several have speculated that she’s going to show up as a driving presence in episode 300, which I am HERE for, sirs.

At the bunker, Jack and Dean share a post-hunt drink. Vance is dead, staked in his grave. Love can be crazier than Harper’s wacky approach, Dean tells Jack. Jack absorbs this, and insists that he’s ready to hunt now. “You’re gonna make mistakes,” Dean tells Jack (and HIMSELF, RIGHT?) “It’s how you handle yourself once you’ve made those mistakes.” Jack hammers down the point that Dean’s doing his best, too.

Dean accedes, and starts talking plans for getting Jack out on more hunts. Suddenly, Jack succumbs to his cough. He buckles over, blood dripping from his nose and out of his mouth. He passes out on the kitchen floor. OH NOES

True Quotes Last Forever:

He’s just overreacting because nothing ever happens here.

We can be hunting buddies!

His obituary said he loved having breakfast here in the morning which is sort of oddly specific.

Pie’s important.

People are always the same when things go wrong: they lose it. One day the water’s shut off; the next day people are on fire.

I have read all the books.

When the goo fits…

Our perp might just be a giant fly with low self esteem.

I need to know everything about sex. Go.

At first I thought it was a ghost, then he punched me in the face.

You don’t want to tackle some regular guy just because he’s into some weird fashion.

So, we got creative. Cool.

Some people pretend to be naughty nurses. Some people get tied up.

Every relationship has its stuff.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn spoilers #spn recap #spn 14x06 #optimism #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #charlie bradbury #supernatural season 14

[zebraslovescupcakestoo]

Coffee breaks

How did Felix ended up being friends with Sam?

It was a winter day in Chicago at my friends work place where you'll find me taking a cat nap on the blue couch. I had a long morning and noon time from my line of work and my lawyer friend and comrade, Sammuel Toutsaint, also known as Sam Toucan for short, was kind enough to let me be. I could have done it at my house, but then there's always something or someone to prevent me to do so.

Apart from what really mattered, I need my time to relax just for a little bit.

I then started to dream about the past... of how I've met him and how he became one of our best assets against the corruptions and mafias like Alfonso's.

----- two years ago -----

I was anxious. This is my first case as a OFFICIAL detective! I've may have three months of police experience after I joined, but this is my time to shine and I want to make the best impression by solving this mysterious cases of bizarre circumstances.

At first, the first thing I got was just the name on the attorney business card along with an address and a phone number. It was attached on one of the report files when they handed to me. I did at first tried to call him twice at work, but it didn't answer. So I decided to go at the address on the card.

My first visit at the attorney's headquarters... I've probably had worst....

I walked in and I've asked the receptionist of the person I was supposed to meet. She said that he's not in now, but she had an idea of where he is and asked me to wait a bit. I had no problem with that. That is until I've met one of the attorneys there. Judging from the type of badge, he must be a prosecutor.

He looked well polished and may have that air of arrogance...

Depending of the character's behavior, I need to be on my best behavior and my guard up. But not even my police and my 'parental' training wasn't prepared for this. Upon the first glance we exchange, he looked at me like I was just a kid playing a detective star...

Look, I know I may be small and still have the baby face, but I'm a full pledge adult with nephews to look after! Although sometimes I needed to show my I.D. To prove it... But even then I'm still not safe from those kind of prejudice.

Thankfully, the receptionist was able to track down my mystery person at a local cafe place he recently hangs around to avoid certain people he didn't get along. I can understand what she meant and why that person goes there.

After she handed me the address, I wasted not another minute in there with that fancy, nicker pocket guy who was starring at me with arrogance. My late father once told me that whenever there's someone who had an expensive suit and talks to you, they tend to have an attitude to match and lawyers are a prime example of the worsts...

At least, that what he used to say and... I do hope that mine would be at least be nicer... Even if it's just for one time.

Once I've arrived at the cafe shop, I was surprised that it's one of those usual yet unique place. The place feels like it was almost completely made of wood yet it had some modern design, but it kept its original settings. It feels like just an ordinary coffee brewery yet it feels like it had that second home feeling... Like dad used to take me and sometimes my sister for a drink and he'd be teaching about the coffee tips and other stuff... Man, these sweet memories takes me back.

Ah, no. Get back in reality! Where is he? I don't see anybody except for the barista employee which I believed is the owner and there was three high school kids that appeared to be jocks judging from those red football team jackets... How unusual for them to be in a place like this.

Then again, I was pretty unusual person myself back in my high school. I was either at the library, on a soccer field or occasionally at a museum on most week days compared to the 'popular kids' hangouts.

I decided not to pursue the matter and asked the guy in charge. “Excuse me, I'm looking for someone named Sammuel Toutsaint. Would you know who he is?” The man simply nodded. “Ah, great! Can you tell me where is he?” I asked another question and he just simply pointed the restrooms for men as I looked at the direction he aimed. “Ah, ok. So...” I then noticed two coffee cups and he then pointed out a really ideal seating area next to the entrance of the store with a big window. “Alright, I'll... wait for him there.” Huh. Not much of a talker this guy... yet he somewhat understood what I was gonna do.

I sat at the appointed table and I glanced back at the jockey kids. I noticed that they were mocking at the owner cause he wasn't a talkative type and some other remarks while they finished off their pastries. I gotta admit that I admire his resistance to those kinds of teasing... I did at one point in my life that I was bullied for my eyes that was in an unusual golden color until I got into high school and I was able to solve my 'first' case at the bakery sales...

I then noticed a figure passed by me and he plot down on his seat across me. He had black hair with an Elvis inspired bangs, a deep blue colored eyes, he wore light blue dress shirt, a yellow over-sized sleeveless sweat shirt, navy blue pants and the most distinguished character trait that I've first noticed it myself was that he had THE most ridiculous rainbow tie I've probably seen.

“Are you... Sammuel Toutsaint? The new ace defendant attorney?” I nervously but politely asked the guy. “Yes but please, just call me Sam Toucan for short. Don't think too hard about it, kid. I don't like to beat around the bush so much unless I had to.” So he's the straight forward type of guy... I don't sense any malicious intend from him, so I guess honesty is a surprisingly a rare trait from him.

Ok, so I need to get straight to the point of this first encounter. “I've been assigned to solve this mysterious case of odd thefts which involves the statues being taken from the victim's homes and then were broken into pieces just outside of their homes.” I told him a short brief and then he questioned me. “If that's the case, why would it be a robbery if the items them selves were found just outside of the victim's home only broken?”

“Well... 'They' say it's a variety of odd vandalism, but I believed it was actually a sort of a robbery. in a way.” I told him on what I believed to be right. He just looked at me with dead in the eyes like he was saying 'what the heck you think you are, some kind of a upstart, naive, kid who wanted to be the best of the best by bragging?'

Luckily for me, I have my evidence to back me up before I decided to claim it. “I studied carefully of the details and what they all had in common. Upon each crime scene, I noticed that there were a few that was from a wealthy home. Yet despite of all of the treasuries they held in each places, the perpetrator was keen on selecting only one specific object and left the rest of the room untouched. Speaking of the item at hand...” I then took out a sketch of the item itself. “There was only about five so far that were smashed to pieces and they were all found under a nearby street light. All of which were these black busts of the ancient deity, Anubis.”

He raised an eye brow at that. “Why would our 'culprit' would steal only these type of busts and then broke it in the streets, worst of all under a street light that would obviously let him be detected?”

“I would say that it might be a theory that our thief was looking for something inside the busts. The bust itself  was made from some cheap plaster that was solid enough to harden but easily break if thrown hard enough.” I answered.

“Alright, but still, why would they throw it under a street light?” He asked again.

“I believed that there's something rare and valuable hidden in one of these specific busts. Most likely about the value. Money is a golden standard for most cases that involves stealing. I believed that there's a precious shining object at hand, still determined what it is that so small, would required some lightning to be seen. No normal human eyes can see it in the dark.” I gave my second answer. So far I did well... I think.

He then rested his face on one side as our barista handed over a coffee pot along with two cups, sugar cubes in a small container and cream. “I'm pouring for ya, how do you take it?” He lifted the coffee pot and suggested it.

You know... it's been a few years since I had a hot cup of coffee... Maybe I should try it....

“Black?” Was my first option. “Don't try to sound tough, you sissy.” He saw through my first awkward response...

“Cream?” I tried to sound it a bit more social elite. “Oh, coming right up, madam.” He then pulled a gentlemen accent and sarcastically mocked the slightly lighter, second option.

“Cream and sugar?” I sounded like I've been grown down. “What are ya, twelve? Never mind, what else do you wanted to talk about?” He just poured in his own cup and then placed the pot at the center, but I lost my taste for coffee after that. 

Guess I needed to wrap this meeting up quickly. “I've been looking a bit deeper on my own searching and I did came across one particular home decor shop that specialized on their home made brands. I did talked to the owner at the time but he couldn't help due to my... inexperience and his lack of trusts to the law enforcement. However, I did manage to meet his brother, who was like a second in charge, did mentioned more details I wanted to hear after the first one left. The first was that there WAS a connection between the busts that were sold, did indeed were from that place, and the second that there's six in total, included the ones that were broken. Which leaves whoever have the sixth, must be what the thief is looking for. I did asked for the sales registries but... He mentioned that the owner kept it very privately and that it would be really hard for anyone to get it. But then... he handed me your card and he said that it could help me. I wanted to met you after that, but by then the courts were closed for the evening so... I was wondering if there was a way to get access of those sale records without causing so much trouble.”

“What about your badge?” He pointed out the obvious.

“If I used my badge, that would only fueled the fire to his hatred against the law, probably spreading rumors like we're the bad guys who would do anything they wanted like the Alfonso mafia. You know them, right?” I doubt that there's isn't a single person in this town that doesn't know this notorious group.

“I've heard and saw some of their handy works when I moved here a few months ago.” Oh? He's from out of town? That explains that certain English accent that's a bit different. It's not exactly American, yet not quite English. Where have I heard it before? “You're actually new too?”

“If you meant by moving here a few months ago from here and Montreal and started out weeks after, it might be. But my bar license is proven to be legitimately professional. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know?” He then sounded like a middle aged men with experience. But what really caught me was how he pronounced 'Montreal' in a more french accent and that's when it hit me. “Are you originally from Canada?” My eyes widen and I smiled at the guy with excitement. I feel like I'm making a new foreign friend and that I hope that I will learn about their cultures.

But he didn't responded cause he was eyeing on the jocks that had their fun and that they were leaving the shop. I glanced at them too until my eyes gave a sensor warning. I blinked once and it showed me that one of them had hidden a few bags of assorted coffee beans and some sugar while the others were acting like their bodyguards. Not on my watch even if you're in high school. I quickly stand up and placed myself between them and the door before they exited. One of them with a black slick hair spoke. “What are you doing, punk? You're in our way.”

I showed them my badge and stated. “I am Detective Felix Lockheart and I'm asking your friend right there to open up up his jacket. I don't believe any kid would gain that size after eating just a small danish pastry.” I pointed at the middle guy who hid the goods. The third one who had blond hair then mocked me. “Oh, how stupid! Did you hear him? Do you need to call your daddy at work to pick you up?” They all laughed until I made my move. I moved like lightning and I snatched one of the coffee bag that was hidden from his left pocket. They were all surprised, including Sam, who I think he whispers something with tabernacle or something french.

“Now, I do believed that this shop doesn't sell these individually and that I didn't see the money you've handed out to pay it. Return the rest and I will not report it.” I gave them a chance to slip, but the red head, who was the one who had it, wasn't compromising. “Man, who do you think you are punk? Jimmy, get him.” Then the blond grabbed me by my white shirt and slammed me against the side of the door. “Not so tough now, are ya? Mr. Holmes.” Then it was the black haired one that spoke. “If you wanted to play detective, go play with your sis...ter.” Suddenly they all turned a bit pale when they looked on their left. I turned to my right and see Sam standing up straight with his hands in his pockets.

I was just as shocked as they were. I mean, I've only seen him passed me but I failed to noticed that he was REALLY tall! He almost reached the ceiling with his head. Did I also fail to mention that he had that average jock built that wasn't like a heavy bodybuilder but just enough to have those abs?

Sam then spoke with an intimidating glare. “Now, I would let him go unless you wanted to make medical history.” He pointed at me with his right hand and then the blond gently puts me down. “Good choice. Now see, I noticed from your upbringings that your parents are paying for your college, when they asked me for 'advice.' Now see this guy here-” He pulled me closer to him in a way that says 'this is my kid.'

“Is a respectable human being that serves our city. He is even merciful with this minor incident and will not report it if you return the sh!t you've stolen. Last I've checked with college submissions your parents are sending you three, they don't allow kids with criminal records in 'easy' and I'm a good friend of the head master there. Now... don't judge this guy here cause of his looks. It's not the uniform that makes a man, it's the man in the uniform AND the man in THIS uniform... Can break your face with his sharp claws and he has back ups if ever he needs to.” He even lowered his head a bit just to glare straight in their eyes as they trembled. This guy could make the roughest thugs of the abandoned docks look like decent folks!

It didn't took long for them to emptied all of the stolen goods and placed them on the counter as 'we' watched. I didn't 'detect' anymore so I nodded. “Alright, I'm letting you kids off this time, but next time I will not go easy.”

The one with black slick hair then said with fear from Sam. “Yes sir, we were wrong and we won't do it again. Can we go now?”

“Oh yeah, I think you three learn enough lessons for one day, eh? We don't want to overload your brains, eh?” My big new 'friend' somewhat came to 'friendly' terms with them. “Why don't you kids just 'walk' right out of here and be done with it?” They all awkwardly smiled at him as they leave. As soon as they were half way through the door, Sam just jerked his head forward and they were sent scattering. I've seen this kind of technique with guys with his height and stature, but very few of them can pulled it off.

He then looked down at me and asked. “You ok?” “Yes! Yes! Um... Thank you for helping me.” I thanked him. Where were my manners?

“Wake up.” He then said.... Wait. That never happened nor said that.

He then shake me again and my vision started to blur.... “Wake up, Félix.”

---

“Aweille! Wake up, Félix! It's almost our coffee break at the usual spot!” I was woken up by Sam's big hands in my hair and messing it up. “Ack! Sam, no! I told you not to do that! It took me a while to groom it this morning.” I quickly got up and fixed it. I hope he didn't have anything that would stick in it like he did with his 'favorite' attorneys who he had a huge dislikes apart from we now know they're in Bendy's pocket roll.

“If you don't wake up the first two times, j'men criss! and you needed to be at your house in two hours.” He pointed at the ugly owl clock he found at a garage sale that 'miraculously' still works...

“Why do you have weird things in your office? I don't wished to be rude or anything but-”

“The idea of having weird things in here is to ward off people with stupid bullsh!t. You'd have your own personal space too if you follow my lead at your work space.” He tried to persuade me.

“No thanks, I've had my share of craziness.” I responded until I realized I needed to tell him something.

“Oh yeah! That clock reminds me of something!” I reached over the arms of the couch to grab my yellow leather brief case that had black X's and dots covered on it. That used to belong to my father too which had a unique charm that I couldn't resist. I rustled in it, but I couldn't find it...

“Where is it?” I mumbled to myself. Then Sam started to make conversation in a deep voice. “I don't know.”

“It's gone.” “That's true.”

“It's lost.” “Now I know.”

“Where could it be?” “Could be anywhere.”

“Maybe it will turn up.” “Maybe, but not yet.”

“It's gone.” “That's true... Are we going through this sh!t again?” He then fired that stupid, sarcastic question that I've unintentionally set myself up. I forgot that I'm friends with a smart a&&.

I just looked at him with a straight face, since I've pretty gotten used to this, and asked. “May I borrow the coffee table for a minute so that I can sort it out?” He gestured and I carefully dumped out all of the continent. Since it was a pretty big bag and I've rarely carried it, I've sometimes forgot to sort out the papers, tickets, outdated documents, and some books...

“Man, I really do need to sort out my bag one of these days. I really need to practice what I- aha! There it is! I knew I did brought it!” I finally found my book! It was entitled 'Lamplight City' with a blue cover and it was the first volume.

“That one? It was a New Year gift. No need to return it. Even if it WAS lend, I don't care if I ever got it back, I just want to know where the f#k it went.” Sam being a 'practical' guy, he wasn't the least bit shy to tell me that.

“I know it's just... I wanted to thank you again after I've finally finished reading it. I know it took me a while, regarding my busy schedule, but this is a really interesting story. The great Britain from the eighteen fifties, a steam punk themed technologies, a former private investigator who still helps the innocent victims like Sherlock while he did so with the voice of his long time partner who got killed in the first chapter and... I've never felt this exited over a fictional detective story since like ages!” I held it with both arms crossed like my nephews would do to their stuffed toys.

I was so lost in words that I didn't noticed him getting dressed up for winter weather. “That's cute and all, but I'm late for a cup of real coffee. Shove those all back in and you can sort them out there. Anything that's no use can still be used to lit the coffee pot or a fire insurance fraud.” He waited for me. Even the most 'holy' person isn't gonna change him to take a compliment nicely.

I quickly shove it all in and dressed for this chilling weather. Thank God that I'm blessed to have a such nice warm coat along with mittens and a scarf. Sam wasn't affected to the cold and said that the winter time here is no competition from where he came from. Not even our snow storms were a challenge to him, despite he swears religiously in french whenever he had to shovel his driveway. I hope that he count that as HIS blessings that my kids doesn't understand french... at least not yet or we're gonna have a serious problem here.

As were passing through the main entrance, I noticed Sam's most hated rival, Jerry, was there. He was the one who snubbed me off when I first went here too, ya remember? He was with his 'underlings' that Sam called them and he noticed us leaving. Being the 'famous' lawyer in this place, he called Sam out. “Leaving so soon? I was wondering when you'll ever live your life right.” His followers were responded to this by chuckling and giggling. “You're right, life's complicated. We get up, we go to work, we eat three meals, we take one good sh!t and we all go back to bed. What a f#king mystery to me!” He said and ignored them as we passed by. He knows that if he gave him more attention, he's going around in circles with their conversations... So he decided to end the conversations with anything he can think of, including throwing them off.

Not the one that almost got this guy through a window, once upon an incident a few months ago. I mean, we can't control the people that walked through our lives but that doesn't mean we can choose to throw them out of a two story window, Sam!

But that story is for another time. Right now, we'll just enjoy our coffee and our bro time. In peace if life could be generous this time.

------------------Author’s Notes---------------------------

Here’s a decent, short but simple story of how My OC Sam Toucan met with Marini4′s Felix the Cat.

I wanted to type a plausible story of how they met since I’ve first created this character. Now to be fair, I keep on adding, subtracting, or redo his bio since he’s not an ‘official’ canon to the BBTIM universe.

Some of Sam’s origins will still be kept in the dark, but I decided to start on how they met and give you readers a good idea of his character.

If you saw my art of him, you’d probably read his description that I got that look from the Phoenix Wright game series and that his attitude is based from that legendary comedian, George Carlin.

I wanted to give him that character who’s honest but doesn’t give a sh!t at the same time. But I want to give him an impression that he still has that ‘family instinct’ when it comes to Felix and his nephews, just he’s not willingly to show that side to most people.

I feel like I’m giving him a complex character... Sorry if he’s out of it.

Anyways, I did do a reference of one of the recent games I’ve discovered on Steam. The title from Felix’s book is indeed, Lamplight city. THAT game is very interesting if you’re a fan of what I’ve just typed by Felix’s description and if your’re a fan of solving mysteries and pixel art styled.

I’ll let a link to the Steam shop here and if you just wanted to watch it from a game play, here. I hope you all enjoy it.

BBTIM universe and characters belong to Marini4 and OC Sam Toucan belongs to me.

#bendy before the ink machine #Felix The Cat #sam toucan #humanized #fanfiction #marini4 #oc