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sunshinesteviee · 6 months

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Can I request some reader and Steve on Halloween after their babies have gone to bed and the two parents enjoying their alone time on the couch watching movies and going through their kids candy

UGH my heart!! sorry it’s so late on halloween, but i hope you enjoy anyways 💛 dad!steve & mom!reader; wc 904

You’re sitting on the couch, feet kicked up in the coffee table, going through a bag of candy by the time Steve finally re-emerges from your middle child’s bedroom. You hear the shuffle of his feet against the hardwood floor that creaks in certain well-worn areas, and your head shoots up, grinning at the sight of your sleepy husband. His hair is floppy and falling into his face, a pair of glasses perched on his nose, and he’s wearing sweatpants and an old shirt that reveals a bit of tan skin when he stretches and then cards his hands through his hair. He yawns as he makes his way over to you, shaking his head as if to try to wake himself up, “Molly finally fell asleep.”

“Took long enough,” you snort. He’d been in her room for nearly half an hour.

“She just kept talking and talking, no matter how much I tried to get her to go to sleep. She didn’t say it, but I think she was scared she’d have bad dreams,” Steve shakes his head again, this time fondly as he drops onto the couch next to you.

“Our sweet girl,” you frown, leaning into your husband’s side, “Too delicate for even Halloween, huh?” Molly’s your sensitive child, always emotional and in tune with what everyone else is feeling, always takes things to heart.

“Well, to be fair, that asshole a few blocks over did scare them. I get scaring some kids, but did Winnie the Pooh, a fairy princess, and Raggedy Ann look like they wanted to be scared?” Steve’s still annoyed, you can tell, even though he’d yelled at the twenty-something jerk who had made his babies cry.

“She was just surprised, she’ll be okay,” you comfort Steve, the palm of your hand landing on his thigh as he grumbles and pouts, not unlike your kids do. “Will you be okay? Or do we need to cancel our yearly Halloween movie marathon and candy stealing?”

He perks up at that and presses a kiss to your temple, “No, no, we definitely can’t cancel that.” For as long as you’ve been with Steve, Halloween night was reserved for a scary movie marathon for the two of you, and sometimes a couple of friends. And once you had kids old enough to trick-or-treat, you’d started rummaging through their haul, taking what you wanted for yourselves. They never noticed, and they never ate all of their candy, anyway.

You squeeze Steve’s knee, cheek smushed into Steve’s shoulder as you move in closer, “Okay, good. Woulda been real upset to have to miss out on that. What should we watch first?”

Steve lets you choose first, so you’re quick to get up and put on Hocus Pocus. It’s definitely not Steve’s first pick, but it’s not a bad choice. You quickly rejoin Steve on the couch, sitting next to him closer than necessary, though he doesn’t mind at all, and you throw a blanket over your laps. He makes a big show of pretending to yawn, like boys would do in high school, stretching his arms over his head before casually resting the one closest to you over your shoulders. It makes you burst into giggles, both slightly flustered, and endeared to your husband’s ridiculous antics. The fact that he still makes you feel like this, even after all your years together, doesn’t escape you, and you snuggle into his side, pressing your cheek to his chest, “You’ve still got the moves, Harrington.”

You can feel his laugh under your cheek, his chest heaving with it as he says, “What can I say? Still gotta impress my girl.”

“It’s working,” you reply, resting your hand over his heart.

Silence falls over the two of you as the movie begins to play, until Steve’s foot nudges one of the kids’ bag of candy on the table that you’d previously been digging through. He shoots up, eyes wide as he grabs the three bags of candy, dropping them in your laps, “We almost forgot the most important part. What do you want? If you say something gross like almond joy, I’m divorcing you.”

“Steve, I literally saw you eat a handful of candy corn earlier. A literal handful.”

“Candy corn is a must on Halloween!” Steve gasps a bit too loudly, indignant, and totally forgetting that you have three kids who just went to sleep.

You quickly slap a hand over his mouth, covering your own laughter, “Shh! Don’t wake the kids!”

Eyes wide, Steve realizes what he’s done, and you both wait with bated breath, desperately hoping you don’t hear any tiny feet in the hallway. When a minute passes without any doors creaking open, you turn your attention back to your husband, who is in the middle of licking the palm of your hand to get it off of his mouth.

You nearly shriek but manage to hold it in, working your hand against Steve’s sweatshirt, “Ugh. Disgusting.”

“You love me,” he says, so confidently, so assuredly, you couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to (and you definitely don’t want to).

“Yeah, I do, Stevie. You can make it up to me with a kiss and a peanut butter cup, though.”

Steve picks out a pumpkin shaped peanut butter cup and presents it to you, his free hand cupping your jaw for a soft peck on the lips, “That I can do.”

#steve harrington #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #sunshinesteviee writes #sunshinesteviee #anon #em answers

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loveshotzz · 10 months

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18+

Thinking about colors!older!steve on the fourth of july…

You’re over at his place, a yearly get together like christmas with him and Jenny. You two get to lounge in the pool while he gets to break out the grill.

He’s in nothing but his apron she got him last father’s day that says “Grill Master” and short blue swim trunks that stop right in the middle of his hairy thighs, with some white plastic birkenstocks on his feet. The colors make his tanned skin glow along with the sheen of sweat that coats it provided by the high hanging sun above.

You don’t know how thankful he is for the apron though especially today, because the tiny little swim suit you brought this year is going to haunt his every waking thought for at least the next two weeks.

The two of you sneak glances from across the back yard, and he thinks he might actually die when you decide to lounge on the floaty practically fully exposed to him. The water makes your swim suit cling to your curves like it’s suctioned to your body. Water dripping off your skin in beads collecting in the holes of the floaty, the slight breeze making your nipples peak. He can feel his jaw drop, quickly collecting himself when he catches the look on Jenny’s face.

You smirk eyes closed under your sunglasses, you don’t know what’s hotter the heat of his gaze or the summer day. Jenny scoff’s when Eddie Money starts playing over the speakers he installed a few years ago above their deck, interrupting the nap that was begging to take over in the gentle sway of the water. The high pitch ringing of her phone saving you both from her complaining as she clacks away in her flip flops to go talk to her boyfriend inside.

The silence is thick with tension that both of you have felt since last Christmas, a secret your best friend doesn’t know. He clears his throat and you roll off your floaty at the same time. The cold water soothes the damage the sun did, your sunglasses slipping off when you re-emerge.

His standing at the edge of the pool. Right in front of you.

His apron is slung over the patio chair behind him, giving you the perfect view of the lingering effects your have on him by how snug his trunks fit. The salt and pepper hair that covers the top of his chest curls with sweat, the muscles in his abs flexing when he can see how the water rolls down the swell of your breasts this angle. A deep sigh escaping through his nose.

“Honey.” It’s a warning.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington?” You bat your lashes, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth when you see the way the name makes his dick twitch.

He opens his mouth but whatever he’s about to say gets cut off by Jenny’s reappearance. His ears going red and eyes widening when you decide to push off the side of the pool floating on your back again at the same time.

“Are you getting in the water Dad?” She smiles brightly completely unaware of what’s happening under her nose.

He grumbles something about needing a drink, and maybe later before he disappears through the sliding door.

“I was gone for like 3 minutes, what’s his deal?” she asks annoyed reclaiming her spot next to the pool.

You just shrug, taking another few laps before you say you have to go to the bathroom. She doesn’t think anything of it too distracted by her phone again.

It takes him less than a minute to find you once you’re inside pulling you into his office. He doesn’t care that you’re dripping chlorine all over his hard wood floors, or how you shiver from the cold of the AC. Not when he’s got you propped on his desk buried between your legs with one large hand covering your mouth to block your moans from his daughter just outside the curtain covered window. Stretching you open more and more with each harsh thrust of his hips, till he feels the way you start fluttering around his dick. Your walls begging him for his release which he gladly gives you, filling you to the brim before he’s sliding your bottoms back in place not giving you the option to clean up.

#i wrote this at work today idk lol #colors series #older!steve thots #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #older!steve harrington

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ratkingsocks · 7 months

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Misc. Heart Pirates Head Canons

So, when I'm bored out of my brain at work I've been thinking about my silly little beloveds the Heart Pirates! So here are some thoughts I've had about them and the crew structure! Crew Structure

Not a traditional first mate or incredibly strict hierarchy. I figure Law's authority issues extend to how he runs his crew!

There's four "departments" basically where one of the core-four preside over.

Bepo is in charge of all the helm stuff: navigation, steering, general operations (maintenance of equipment, engineering)

Penguin is in charge of personnel: finances, crew schedules, supplies (clothes, food, yatta yatta)

Shachi is on weapons: armory & procurement of, training the crew, and any like recon they do is planned by him

Law handles all the medical stuff: yearly exams, extensive charts/notes on the crew, any on-going treatments, and the supplies for this specifically goes through him

As captain, Law does oversee/supervise the others if he feels it relevant but after like 13 years he's pretty confident his favorite idiots can handle themselves!

The tang runs on two shifts so someone is always around to keep the sub running in case of emergencies, as such there's often multiple crew members capable of a job (ex chef, helmsman, engineering, nurses)

All the crew knows how to handle alarms, any gauge or sonar readouts, and just generally keep everyone from dying

Most of the crew knows basic triage and first aid

Any Big Decisions (TM) are normally talked over. The crew has a lot of say in most scenarios... One of the few times this was not the case was Law ordering them to Zou when he went to Punk Hazard.

It was an intentional choice on Law & the crew's part that none of them were spotted on jobs and don't have bounties. A lot of the crew's work, especially early on in Law's plotting against Doffy, was gathering information and other covert work. Them being well known or recognizable would've made it impossible for this to get done... It also would've made hiding from Doffy that much harder.

The crew splits proceeds evenly! 50% goes to the Tang's upkeep and supplies, 50% is split equally between everyone else.

Named Crew Jobs

Law- Captain, Doctor

Penguin- Quartermaster

Shachi- Armsmaster

Bepo- Navigator

Jean Bart- Helmsman

Ikkaku- Head Engineer

Uni- Head Nurse

Clion Chef

Hakugan- Helmsman

The unnamed crew I do plan to flesh out eventually, but I haven't made a whole lot of headway in that direction yet... Some day I shall!

Silly HCs

Other than Bepo, everyone is older than Law

Penguin likes to sing

He also has collected rocks & shells from every island they've stopped at to make a living map of their travels.

I personally like to think of Shachi & Peng as some sort of fishman-human hybrid or perhaps a few generations removed from a fishman ancestor? Not super sure on how it works exactly, but I think they both look a lil odd and that's why they hide their eyes and such with hats.

Ikkaku handles Law 2nd best only to the Core 4. She knows when he needs space and when he needs to be pushed pretty well, and so they're pretty close.

Uni loves to sew; it's how he relaxes and passes time while they're underwater for long stretches of time. He is also the person who customizes most of Law's clothes with their jolly roger

Law did said customization before they recruited Uni and still helps, but Uni shoves him off often and says this is his therapy time alone

Clione takes to new members the best

He's also a great fighter and definitely yeeted Shachi into a wall one day; Shachi was delighted with this

He can drink most of the crew under the table

Hakugan is enby! And uses they/them pronouns

They also communicate with sign language, so the entire crew is relatively fluent

Hakugan is never lost; they have a 6th sense for where north is at all times

Much like their namesake, Hakugan is a volatile creature prone to violence

Shachi likes to keep up with psychology journals in his free time, so sometimes he & Law will have a little "medical journal book club" to hang out

Bepo is more an astronomy & weather guy... there was, however, a tragic mix-up with the news coo one time that resulted in Bepo getting an astrology magazine.

He likes to torment Law by teasing him with a well placed "That's so very libra of you, captain."

Law actually likes his coffee absurdly, disgustingly sweet

Penguin, however, takes his coffee black

Shachi & Bepo are 2 of 3 members of the Hearts without a caffeine addiction. Hakugan is the third

Penguin has given up trying to get Law on a schedule... It has never worked in their 13 years sailing together

Law had to implement a "no gambling on the tang" rule shortly after Hakugan joined; They were absolutely taking everyone else's money

Law does, however, actively encourage fleecing marines & rival pirate crews

The crew has picked up some Mink social behaviors! As such they're very physically affectionate... Yes, even Law. Though he tends to contain his affection to when they're in private or on the Polar Tang

It's super common to see the crew swap undershirts, jewelry, or other accessories

Bepo has a collection of his crewmates' shirts! Uni made it into a quilt for him since he can't exactly wear them properly

Everyone else has a "Bepo shirt"

Ikkaku tends to forget she's wearing hers while working on the Tang or to sleep then walks about. Whenever Bepo sees this he gets all flustered & teary-eyed

Law, similarly, wears his to sleep in regularly. He would rather be caught dead than wearing though. That's way too mushy for him.... but if there are days where he's still wearing it when Bepo comes to check on him in the morning, well, nobody has to know but them right?

Shachi & Penguin one time wore their Bepo shirts and attempted to force Bepo into their shirts which... obviously did not fit. Undetered they stitched the two together to the ultimate-bros-shirt. Bepo loves this shirt & wears it regularly.

Shachi & Penguin remake this shirt whenever the old one starts wearing down or falling apart every few years

(I took this one from a fic cuz I thought it was just so good) Between more junior members of the crew, it's a running gag that Law, Shachi, & Penguin are more "lesser mink" than "human" after 13 years with Bepo.

Law finds this absolutely hysterical, Bepo says they're all lesser minks

Law is, in fact, capable of a variety of animal noises such as growling, hissing, or purring. He normally makes this noises on accident when startled or particularly relaxed. He did not intentionally learn to make these noises. He was just an incredibly weird child and like many weird children before and after him, mimicked animals

Shachi & Penguin may or may not make fun of him for this

They may or may not have started the rumor that one of Law's parents was a mink; a rumor that Law has unintentionally perpetuated with his general wet cat behavior

Penguin's family were whalers! He uses a harpoon & is a fantastic fisher as a result

The above makes him Clione's favorite

Penguin often threatens Shachi with the harpoon so he may join his bretheren. Shachi shrieks back that orcas are not whales but dolphins. This is a near weekly song & dance.

Each of the "core four" have a way to show they accept a newbie into the crew!

Shachi carves a little wooden animal

Penguin embroiders their name inside their boiler suits

Bepo trades clothes with them

Law procures a custom mug decorated to their taste

Law normally gives his first, actually. Firstly, if he invited you to his crew he already likes you well enough. Two, he knows he can be an unapproachable dick and sees it as a bit of a peace offering. Three, to show the rest of the crew this new person is approved!

Shachi & Penguin gives theirs whenever they feel the new member has "earned" it. Normally 2nd/3rd in whatever order they deem.

Bepo basically always gives his last. He's a very anxious lil guy and doesn't want to disturb or weird anyone out.

Jean Bart is, ironically, the only crew member to not have concussed himself on the doorways in the Tang

Law had a few problem years after his sudden growth spurt, but it hasn't been a problem since he got used to being taller

After reuniting on Zou there was a crew wide cuddle puddle

Law is surprisingly tactile so long as it's on his terms. A head pat there, brushing his hands against a cheek or shoulder there... That kind of thing

This is generally the best indicator of how much he actually likes you

Law often stims using Bepo's fur or paws. Bepo loves this very much

#these are all very light hearted #don't take them too seriously #a lot were just things i thought would be cute or fun #head canon #one piece headcanons #heart pirates #shachi one piece #penguin one piece #bepo one piece #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law

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gabessquishytum · 22 days

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CW: past child abuse, past parricide

Special inspector Hob Gadling hates his job. Well, it's actually not true - he loves his job, but today specifically, he hates it. First, he was hoping for a bonus, and now he got assigned to a years-old cold case 'just to ensure that no new details emerged, and the investigation needs not to be reopened.' Second, he'll have to deal with some filthy rich weirdos.

Destiny Endless is a top-tier consulting risk manager, his services costing more than Hob's yearly paycheck. Death is the founder of a successful chain of funeral homes - after all, people always die, and rumor has it that Death is the best in her line of work. Dream is a famous writer who's able to write it all: whatever genre he sets his eyes - and pen - on, the book becomes a bestseller. Desire Endless is a porn star; the only mention of their name makes armies of fans go hard, wet, and horny. Despair founded a pharmaceutical corporation and revolutionized the world by introducing new, highly effective antidepressants. Destruction seems like the only normal person in that fucked-up family of masterminds: he had made a career in the military and then fucked off to travel the world. Last but not least, there is Delirium, an artist. Personally, Hob thinks that one needs to be constantly high to come up with such colors and forms, but hey, it's not him who's paid six figures to install some mind fuckery in amusement parks, so he doesn't get to judge.

Hob wouldn't come close to any of these freaks, but he has to verify that nothing was missed during the investigation, and so, here he goes. Mama and Papa of the Endless disappeared almost twenty years ago with no trace. Their bodies were never found, and there was no evidence of foul play. They just vanished into thin air, voilà. It was presumed that they had got bored, bought themselves new personalities, and left to live someplace else. To Hob, this seems strange yet plausible: looking at their kids, it's obvious that insanity runs in the family.

Still, Hob shows up to do his job, examine old records, and talk once again with all the Endless heirs. All goes very smoothly - there's nothing suspicious, all the kids' testimonies match. Hob would gladly close the check, but there is one tiny problem: he fell head over heels in love with Dream. Now in his thirties, he's unconventionally beautiful, insanely talented, and he's got Hob wrapped around his slender finger. Dream keeps his distance at first, but eventually, they begin dating. Hob finally closes the check for good - it's as clear as day that Endless parents must be chilling on some private island - and plunges into the relationship with Dream, learning him from the other side, as someone vulnerable, insecure, and kind-hearted. There's only one strange thing: Dream is inexperienced in bed for his age, and he's always somewhat tense during sex. Hob tries to talk to him, but Dream shuts the conversation down. Hob guiltily googles his bf and finds out that despite his high profile, there are no mentions of his exes in the media. At all.

Hob is puzzled, but it all falls into place when, one night, his lover has a nightmare. Hob wakes up from his screams and, with horror, realizes that this is more than a nightmare - it's a memory. He wakes Dream up and holds him while he cries. On the periphery of his mind, Dream's screams and pleas create a terrifying story of the siblings being abused by their parents for years.

'You killed them together, didn't you? Each of you thought you were the only one who suffered and thus kept the others safe. But once you all learned the truth…' Hob whispers into Dream's hair and holds him tighter. 'It's alright, my sweetling. I'd have killed them myself for you if they had been still alive.'

They stay like that through the night. In the morning, Hob makes Dream breakfast like nothing happened and goes to work. He's got no reason to worry about the case ever being reopened: there's no evidence, and he's determined to be the only one who sleeps by Dream's side till the end and holds him through his dreams and nightmares.

I love this so much. Poor, poor Dream. And the rest of the siblings too!

Hob doesn't want to draw further attention to the case of course, but he does all he can at work to make sure that files are carelessly "lost" or at least buried so deep in the archive no one will find it for a century. It even occurs him to frame someone else for the crime to make sure that the siblings are thoroughly safe, but... its better left forgotten. God knows Hob will spend the rest of his career making sure that no one ever goes sniffing around the Endless siblings ever again.

What's more he'll spend the rest of his life helping Dream in his recovery. He makes sure that he has private, confidential access to resources that a survivor should have - none of the siblings ever told anyone about the abuse or went to therapy because they're terrified to look like they had a "motive" to get rid of their parents. Hob changes that. He persuades as many of the siblings as he can to visit trusted therapists. Not all of them go for it, but at least someone is finally advocating for them and offering a little bit of support.

Hob loves Dream most of all of course, but he considers all the siblings as his family. He hates what happened to them. He can't fix it. But he can protect and love them as they deserve. Maybe all of them can finally breathe a little easier, with a friend on their side.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw child abuse #cw parental death #cw murder #cw trauma

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pie-of-flames · 5 months

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Ringo's Fish 'N' Chips Recipe

From Mary Frampton & Friends Rock & Roll Recipes, 1980.

There are two closely adhered-to customs in Ye Merry Olde England—both Guy Fawkes Night and New Year's Eve are spent at Ringo's! It's quite probable that I won't see his guests until the same time, same place next year but they're guaranteed to turn up for these two highly important occasions. Guy Fawkes Night is the children's special treat, but the age of the "children" is extremely flexible! Ringo presides over a gigantic bonfire and a fabulous display of fireworks. An enormous party follows which becomes a competition to see whether the kids can outlast the "grown-ups." The kids usually win, of course! New Year's Eve is very special, even more so for a northerner from Liverpool. Certain customs must be respected to bring good luck to the household for the coming year. Everyone piles out of the house, holds hands in a circle, and sings "Auld Lang Syne." Then there follows kissing with gay abandon. Then Ringo, as the host, stands at the front door and welcomes each guest back into the house. Everyone carries a piece of coal and a piece of bread, handing them to Ringo on the way indoors. This is a sign that the house will be blessed with enough fuel and food for the coming year. After that, anything goes! Most of the time, Ringo is resident in Los Angeles. So it will be interesting to see what happens on those two special days in the future. I have a feeling that everyone will turn up as usual. Old habits die hard.

Ring's talent as an actor emerged during the filming of the various epics starring the Fab Four. Although excellent in their own way, none of the films were exactly "heavyweights," and although Ringo has had parts in several films since, I would still love to see him pay a role he can really get his teeth into. He obviously has a lot of untapped talent in that sphere. He's still one of the best drummers in the world and loves to help his mates out on their various gigs. An example of this was his appearance at the Band's Last Waltz Concert. Another was years ago. Ringo and Maureen (they were still married then) came over to dinner and I managed to cook something without onions or garlic, neither of which Ringo eats. After dinner, we all went upstairs to the living room and Peter [Frampton] sat down with his acoustic guitar and played a song for Ringo and Maureen called "The Lodger." Ringo loved it and said he'd be delighted to play on the track if Peter recorded it. He did, and he did! It came out on Peter's first solo album, Wind of Change. What a long time ago that was. We've all gone our separate ways but I'm relying on Ringo's twice-yearly dates for us all to get together again.

RINGO'S FISH 'N' CHIPS

INGREDIENTS

Fish Chips

METHOD

Get in your car, or walk, whichever the case may be. Travel to your local fish and chips shop and ask for cod and chips. Add salt and vinegar to taste. Eat with fingers for best results—I do! 'Bye.

—Ringo Starr

#Ringo starr #the beatles #I rediscovered that I have this book #More Beatles chapters to come #but this is the funniest #kissing with gay abandon #Mary Frampton & Friends Rock & Roll Recipes

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tylermileslockett · 2 years

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Theseus #4 (Into the Labyrinth) Illustration by me.

*NOTE:* rotate image to see different perspectives

No sooner had Theseus settled into his princely position, than King Minos of Crete, calls upon Athens for its bloody yearly debt. King Minos son had previously died in the Athenian games, and as an act of revenge, he threatened to invade Athens unless the kingdom sent seven male and seven female youths to Crete to sacrifice for his half-man, half-bull creature within his labyrinth; the Minotaur. Theseus volunteers as one of the youths, determined to stop the beast. King Aegeus tells Theseus if he survives, to switch the ship’s black sail to white upon his return, so his father will know he lives.

Arriving in Crete, King Minos’ daughter, Ariadne, falls for Theseus, and vows to help him if he will marry and bring her to Athens after defeating the beast. Theseus agrees, and Ariadne consults Daedalus, the ingenious inventor of the maze, as to its secrets. She gives Theseus the secrets, and most importantly, a ball of thread, so that he may retrace his steps. That night, Ariadne sneaks Theseus to the entrance, and he enters the dank corridors...

Ariadne is one example of smitten women assisting male Greek heroes on their quests with invaluable clues and tools. The Argonauts, arriving at Colchis to acquire the Golden fleece, were assisted by the princess Medea, who uses magic and ingenuity to help Jason succeed in his labors.

Can you think of other examples?

There are many interpretations for the symbolism of Labyrinths in myths. On the surface they show a character on a journey to discover their purpose or destiny through finding the correct path to reach their goal. They’re also symbolic of the stage of the hero’s journey Jospeh Campbell calls the “belly of the whale,” where the hero commits to their metamorphosis, and thus re-emerges from the ordeal, reborn anew. The Labyrinth center could represent a unification with the hero’s inner self, a higher power, or the ultimate challenge, and the tunnel could represent a birth canal.

What other symbolism might a labyrinth hold in art and literature?

Thanks for looking! to see more of my greek myth illustrations, click my LINTREE: https://linktr.ee/tylermileslockett

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bleedingichorhearts · 25 days

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝕭𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Had to do it to our stinky bois.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉/𝕴𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual (FIXED!)

𝕬𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Evidence of inspiration by @bispecsual.

TW // None.

You stalk around your house, holding a bottle full of chemicals in your hands as you lock onto your target. Ready to spray the Nurgle out of him.

Reading your aim, you shoot once, then twice at the back of the Death Guard. A low hiss coming from him as he immediately rose to his full height. His helmet slowly turning to look at you.

“You have been evicted from the main rooms until you have cleaned yourself off.” You spoke, standing your ground as he stalks forward himself.

He rumbles, leaning down to get through the archway. Blocking the room light above, casting a shadow over you. His blank visor looking down at you.

“Don’t make me spray you again.” You warned, shuffling back a little. Giving him another chance to change his actions. To accept your demands.

Except he swipes at you. Sending a tingle of adrenaline down your systems as you lean back out of the way.

“Alright then, you asked for it.” You say, taking out another chemical bottle from the back of your belt loop. Shooting spray after spray at the Death Guard.

He growls and hisses, swiping down at you while trying to avoid your sprays at him. Becoming more faster than you have ever seen him to be as you dodge his swipes.

Then, when he thought he had you right in his grasp you spray up at his helmet, making him stumble back. A loud, rumbling hiss coming out of him.

You might of pissed him off, but did you care? No. He needed his bath and he was going to get it.

He rushes forward, and you take off. Leading him straight where you want him to be. Occasionally spraying back at him to keep him on your trail.

Turning around a corner, you slid into the room and spun around to face the huffing Death Guard. A low growl coming from him as he slowly enters the room.

Spraying him once more, you turn back around to pull a fishing line. Yet not expecting how quick the Death Guard could be as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up. Grumbling sounds rumbling through his body.

Struggling in his hold, you heart races as you realize that he was making his way out of them room. Sacrificion must be made.

“If you are not going to take a bath. Then we both will.” You state, successfully pulling an arm out from his hold and up above you, pulling at the emergency fishing net. A soft click going out as the Death Guard rumbles.

Warm, soapy water engulfs both of you. Coating the whole room with soap as steam rolls off his armor. A pitched hiss coming from him as he hold you a little tighter than before.

You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Oh, it’s not that bad!”

He whines in protest.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” You say, holding out arms. Feeling a little bad that you ambushed him with the water, but he needed to be cleaned! “You get more cuddles now!”

He whines again.

“A week worth of cuddles?”

Nothing.

“Three weeks of cuddles?”

Nadda.

“A month?”

A low grumble.

“…Three months of cuddles?”

He perks up a little more.

“Fine, a yearly subscription of cuddles.” You sigh folding your arms as he purrs, accepting this proposition. His helm coming down to nuzzle at your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah.” You huff, patting the top of his much cleaner helmet. “You are lucky you’re cute.”

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #death guard #death guard shenanigans #he a cute stink bug

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fanficshiddles · 4 months

Text

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 15

It had been two weeks since Loki and Claire had their first date and things were going really well between them. Both of them were infatuated with one another. Of course, when at the school working, they behaved professionally on front of the students and the other teachers, but the teachers weren’t stupid, they knew that their relationship was something more now.

Loki struggled to contain himself around her, but he kept telling himself that he wouldn’t hurt her, she was his soulmate and it was his duty to protect her.

He knew that she was ready to go further, he could smell her arousal quite often when they got heavy into kissing and touching… He just couldn’t bring himself to go further yet, he knew even if he could restrain from biting her that his other urges would go completely feral.

Though she seemed to understand whenever he eased off, explaining he just didn’t want to rush into it.

It was a Saturday afternoon and Loki received a text from Claire.

C: There’s an 80’s club night on tonight at the Rave club. Wondered if you fancied going? If you don’t have anything else on, that is. x

L: That sounds great. You’re not expecting me to dress up like the 80’s though, are you? X

C: Hah! Not at all… unless you have clothes from the 80’s and want to, but I certainly won’t be. Will I meet you there at opening? Or do you fancy grabbing a bite to eat before?

L: A bite to eat first sounds good. I’ll come pick you up in a taxi, there’s been two murders in the city in the last week, I don’t want you out at night alone. Be ready for six. X

C: My prince charming. See you then. x

Loki was glad when she didn’t argue about meeting him somewhere. Two more vampires had been killed lately, thankfully not students, but it was still bad enough. He knew that hunters must be on the rise again, it was always worrying, but they’d been through this before. Hopefully it would calm down as they went through the year, and people would begin to forget about the yearly hunt.

At least Loki hoped so, anyway.

Claire was super excited for her night out with Loki. She picked out a black dress that had long sleeves and a nice dip at her neck, but not too revealing. The dress went down to her calves, as it was still cold out, she didn’t want to wear one that was too short, though she knew it would end up being quite hot in the club.

She waited downstairs just inside the building, when she saw a taxi turn up, she waited for Loki to emerge before heading out. Her heart started racing straight away as she approached him, he was wearing leather trousers with a nice green shirt and a black suit jacket… Though it was the leather gloves he wore that got her attention mostly.

‘Darling, as always, you look stunning.’ He purred and cupped her cheek with his hand as he dipped down to kiss her on the lips.

Loki couldn’t stop a smirk spreading across his face when she blushed hard, he noticed her glancing at his hands a few times though she tried not to make it so obvious.

‘My lady?’ He took her hand and opened the taxi door for her.

‘Thank you.’ Claire said giddily as she climbed in.

Loki closed the door carefully after her and made his way round the car to get in the other side. She slid across to the middle seat so she could snuggle in against him, he wrapped his arm around her straight away.

‘Where are we going for food?’ Claire asked.

‘There’s a nice Italian restaurant just opened up down the road from the club, I thought would be good to try, has good reviews so far.’

‘Ohh yeah, I heard about that. I've been wanting to try it, good idea.’ Claire smiled at him.

‘I always have good ideas.’ Loki said cockily.

‘Oh I don’t know about that. Your ideas can be a bit questionable, I'm the one with the good ideas in class.’ Claire teased.

Loki mocked a gasp. ‘How dare you!’

‘I’m the brains of the outfit, I thought you knew that by now?’ She smirked.

‘I think you’re forgetting I am the boss, the one in charge of our class.’ Loki growled and dug his fingers into her side, making her squeak out a laugh and she jumped.

‘Yeah, that’s what I want you to think.’ Claire laughed.

Loki dug his fingers into her side again, making her laugh some more and she tried grabbing his hand to stop.

‘What’s the matter, ticklish?’ Loki cooed and continued his attack on her side, with his free hand he reached round to tickle her neck.

‘Aaaaah, Loki!’ Claire burst out laughing and squirmed around next to him, trying to get away but at the same time she could only squirm closer.

‘I have found your weakness, you’re in trouble now.’ Loki let out a wicked laugh as he eased off, though she was still wary about his hand at her side as she glared at him.

‘I’ll find out yours, I’m sure.’ Claire grumbled.

‘Never.’ Loki chuckled.

‘I like a challenge.’ Claire grinned.

They arrived at the Italian restaurant and thankfully the reviews weren’t wrong. It was a great little place, run by an Italian family so the food was exquisite.

‘I think I’ve found my new favourite place.’ Claire said as Loki helped her with her jacket upon leaving.

‘Mine too. Now I’m more than ready to dance all the calories off.’ Loki laughed as he patted his stomach.

Hand in hand, they made their way along the road to the club. It had been open for an hour now, so when they got in there was already plenty of people there enjoying the 80’s music. Claire was already moving her hips from the moment they stepped inside, she just loved that era of music.

‘Come on, let’s dance!’ She tried dragging Loki straight to the dancefloor, but he had other ideas and dragged her to the bar first.

‘We need to at least get a drink in hand.’ He laughed at her enthusiasm.

He ordered them both a cocktail and a shot of tequila to start them off. Claire pulled a face as she downed her shot.

‘Not like tequila?’ Loki asked in amusement.

‘Nope, tastes awful.’ Claire said as she pulled a face again.

‘Why did you take it then? You should’ve said.’ Loki said as he downed his own one.

‘Waste not want not.’ Claire shrugged, then she dragged him onto the dancefloor properly this time.

They both had fun dancing amongst the sea of bodies, they stuck close to one another, practically grinding against each other at one point. With the flow of drinks as well, Claire was well on her way to being drunk.

It took a lot more for Loki to become drunk, his vampire metabolism made him able to handle his drink better.

Though he was struggling to handle his arousal with the way Claire began grinding her ass against his crotch during one particular song. He couldn’t hold back a moan at the feeling as he gripped her hips tightly.

‘Darling, you’re pushing your luck.’ He growled into her ear as he turned her around to face him.

‘Maybe that’s my aim.’ She fluttered her eyelashes at him innocently.

‘Oh, don’t try to look innocent, you’re far from it.’ He rumbled as he gripped her chin and couldn’t refrain from kissing her deeply, their tongues moved together as they wrapped each other up in their arms and pulled as tight as possible.

Claire could feel a very distinct bulge pressing against her stomach, knowing she’d gotten him this riled up made her almost cream her knickers. And of course, Loki could smell her.

‘Maybe, uhm… if we go out back, I could perhaps help you out with your little situation?’ Claire spoke right into his ear.

Loki was so close to tossing her over his shoulder and taking her out back to take her up on that delightful offer… Though he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, knowing that one thing would definitely lead to another.

He cupped her face in both hands and pecked her on the lips again. ‘Let’s go outside… but to talk.’ He said firmly, it was too loud inside to speak properly so he took her hand and they weaved through the crowd together.

There was a hold up by the door, as it was right next to the bar so they had to wait a second for people to move so they could continue out. Someone bumped right in against Claire’s behind, she whipped her head around to look, but her eyes widened as she saw it was Chris.

He smirked and winked at her, but she was tugged forward by Loki as he found a gap to get through. She turned to look where she was going but quickly looked back, though Chris was gone.

‘Darling, are you ok?’ Loki asked when they reached the door, he noticed she was looking around.

‘I just thought I saw… never mind.’ She shook her head.

Maybe it was someone that just looked like Chris. Though even if it had actually been him, there was no point telling Loki he was here, it would only annoy him anyway.

Loki took her round the side of the club, where it was quiet and no one else was around.

‘Claire, I am going to be completely honest with you. I adore you, so damn much. I want nothing more than to have you on your knees right now and have your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.’ His voice deepened as he brushed his thumb along her lower lip, both of them swallowed hard at the thought.

Loki cleared his throat to continue. ‘I am worried that I will hurt you, I have quite strong… urges. I’m scared that I can’t control myself with you and I'll go too far, that I’ll scare or hurt you.’

Claire frowned and put her hands around his neck. ‘What do you mean? I know you’d never hurt me, and you could never scare me, what are you talking about?’

He smiled and felt so warmed at her words. If only she knew the truth though… she would probably run a mile.

‘You’re such a delicate flower, I will not allow myself to get too carried away and hurt you. I just need to go slowly, so I can maintain myself better with you.’

‘I won’t break, I can handle a little rough, if that’s what you mean? Though I understand if you want to go slow, I won’t rush you at all. I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit pushy.’ She said sheepishly.

Loki grinned and stroked her hair. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for, believe me when I say I want the same as you do… I dream every night of having you writhing around in pleasure beneath me, being able to hear your moans as I make you cum…’

Loki realised he was saying the wrong words entirely if he was trying to keep their urges calm.

‘Not helping, Loki.’ Claire groaned and pressed her head against his chest.

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. ‘Sorry, darling.’

‘I blame you for my frustration.’ She said, muffled against him.

‘Delayed gratification, will make it all the better when we do get down and dirty.’ He purred and slid his hands down her arms.

‘If you say so.’ Claire looked up at him and giggled.

Chris had indeed been at the club, he didn’t stay for long though, he had just been looking for any unsuspecting drunken humans he could feed from.

And he found one.

A young woman foolishly left her friends at the club and decided to walk home, all alone. When she was making her way through the park, along the dark tree-line, that’s when Chris pounced.

He approached her from the front with a kind smile on his face. ‘Why hello there, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here, all alone, hmm?’

The woman was clearly uneasy as she eyed him up and down. While she was drunk, she wasn’t completely out of it, and alarm bells of stranger danger ran through her mind.

‘I’m fine. Away to meet my boyfriend.’ She said and quickened her pace away from him, cutting across the grass.

Chris sensed her heartbeat quicken in fear, he could smell it in the air too, making him lick his lips as he stalked after her, hot on her heels.

‘Now, now. No need to run off so’ He was cut off as a bolt came flying down and pierced into the grass right between him and the woman.

His head snapped round to find the source, he spotted a cloaked figure on the bridge lowering a crossbow. As he turned back to look at his prey, she had taken that opportunity of distraction to run as fast as she possibly could across the park, away from him.

Chris hissed as he grabbed the bolt out of the ground, he stormed over to the bridge to confront the cloaked figure. He assumed it was some puny wannabe hunter, that was clearly rubbish at their job for missing him.

‘You missed.’ Chris snarled as he stepped onto the bridge.

A low chuckle came from under the cloak. ‘Did I? My task was to save the human, I’d say that’s exactly what I did.’

Chris’ eyes widened, it was a female hunter.

‘I believe this is yours.’ He growled and snapped the bolt in two before tossing it to the feet of the hunter.

She turned towards him and flipped her hood down, revealing her face. Chris took a moment as he stared at her and his nostrils flared, gathering her scent, then his eyes widened and he laughed.

‘My my, if it isn’t the famous vampire hunter, Toshi Vernier.’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I should’ve recognised that stench of yours a mile away.’ He spat. ‘Where have you been hiding for all of these years, I thought you died a brutal death?’

‘I’ve come back from the dead.’ Toshi smirked. ‘I know what you’re up to, Chris. Trying to erase the humans, to let vampires take over, but it won’t work.’

‘And what makes you so sure of that?’ Chris asked as he began to take slow, menacing steps towards her. Though her heartbeat remained steady, it never changed. She wasn’t scared of him. Or if she was, she was able to control her fear, unlike others.

‘Because I won’t let you, neither will your brother and his friends. You underestimate their strength.’

‘You know nothing.’ Chris snapped as he started circling her, but her heartbeat still remained the same.

‘I know that you’re really trying his patience over his soulmate. You have no idea what strength can be gained from a vampire being with their soulmate, they would do anything to protect them... I’m not going to do nothing while you get innocent people killed, that includes vampires. Your actions are attracting more hunters, which means more deaths of your kind. I know Loki won’t just sit back and watch either.’ Toshi said calmly as she waited for him to walk back round into her line of view.

‘What do you know of a vampire’s soulmate?’ He hissed, getting agitated. ‘How do you know so much about my brother? What do you care about vampires? You’re a hunter.’

‘You’re not the only one that can creep about unnoticed. The legends may say that you’re all mighty and powerful, but you’re nothing more than an unruly vampire that’s lost his way, letting his feral urges take over. Alienating everyone, family and friends… if you had any friends in the first place, that is. Since you keep getting fellow vampires killed.’

Chris lunged for her, but Toshi managed to dodge him, just. She leapt over the side of the bridge and landed on her feet at the riverside below. She flipped her hood back up just as Chris jumped down after her, his eyes a deep dark red.

‘And for the record. I am a hunter. But not a vampire hunter anymore… well, not the good ones, anyway.’ Toshi shrugged.

Chris made a move for her again, but Toshi threw down two garlic bombs that exploded instantly. Chris began coughing as he was shrouded in strong garlic powder. He yelled in anger as the park started to spin, he couldn’t focus properly.

It took him a minute to shake off the effects, though he could still feel it in the back of his throat, making him cough harshly. He looked around the park, but there was no sign of Toshi anymore. Like she had just vanished into thin air.

He cried out angrily and turned into his bat form to fly away, hungry and incredibly annoyed.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x ofc #fluffy loki #loki fic #vampire Loki #Chris Motionless #the redbridge hunts

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racefortheironthrone · 1 month

Text

Warhammer Gaslamp: Imperial Society

(For the Introduction, see here)

The State

In many ways, the Empire of Man in 2725 IC is scarcely recognizable compared to the rickety feudal monarchy of the 2500s. While the Grand Provinces still exist on paper, the vectors of power have transformed radically. In exchange for generous subsidies from the central government, seats in the Imperial Parliament's House of Nobles, and other privileges, the Elector Counts and the provincial nobility have ceded much of their de facto independence - such that it is now provincial law that must be approved by the Emperor's Prime Estates in Altdorf for harmony with Parliamentary law and Imperial regulation, not the other way around.

While the electoral franchise has been gradually extended to all adult men with an income of 12 marks (one for each of Sigmar's tribes), as well as veterans of all income levels, the Imperial Parliament's power of legislation and the purse is balanced by the immense state capacity of the Imperial Bureaucracy. A massive civil service of some 2 million public sector workers who answer to the Emperor and his Chancellor (who also serves as the Chairman of the Council of Ministries) the Imperial Bureaucracy is fanatically meritocratic and even though the sons of the elite are disproportionally represented (especially in the top ranks), mere birth and privilege are not enough to succeed in government. Even the bluest of bloods must still pass the draconian Entrance Exams and follow those up with a strong record of Yearly Performance Assessments in order to survive the political knifefighting and rise through the ranks.

In addition to the General Staff of the Imperial Armed Forces, the Treasury Ministry, and the Ministry of Industry and Public Works, one of the most influential of the Ministries is the Health Ministry. Emerging out of a longstanding compromise between the Farmer-Artisan Party and the Patriotic Party, the Health Ministry is in charge of the Sozialversicherung Gemeinschaft, which provides modest old age, widows and orphans, disability, and kurzarbeit pensions to all citizens of the Empire...as long as they give yearly blood samples to the Imperial Plasmic Survey. The Survey tests tens of millions of samples for signs of epidemic, industrial, environmental diseases, and malnuitrition, which it uses to triage people into Imperial Hospitals and District Health Centers.

Secretly, the Imperial Plasmic Survey also tests citizens for were-Beastmanism and other forms of mutancy, and signs of vampirism and vampiric transfusion (and increasingly less commonly, unlicensed witchcraft). The Health Ministry then passes on the information of anyone who fails their tests to the Schwarzmänner - the secret police descended from the Ancient Initiatic and Holy Order of the Templars of Sigmar - who will hunt you down like the dog you are.

The only way for one of the "Untervolk" to escape the hunt is to flee into the sewers, subway tunnels, and ancient sub-sub-sub basement communities known as the Undercities, where they fight a desperate war for survival (and food) against the Skaven.

The Church(es)

In the last two hundred years, most of the Imperial Cults have fallen under the benevolent paternalism of the Church of Sigmar; while Morr, Verena, Shallya, Myrmidia, Taal, Rhya, Mananna, and the like are honored by those who have need of their services, their clergy are largely dependent on the Church of Sigmar for their financial livelihood.

As I have already mentioned, the Church of Sigmar is increasingly polarized between the Orthodox Volkmarites and Radical Hussites. Socially conservative and stronger in the north and west of the Empire, especially among the bourgeoisie, nobility, and larger farmers, the Orthodox Volkmarites believe strongly in obedience to authority. In their doctrine, Sigmar's Plan has predetermined for every person in the Empire their proper place on the Great Chain of Being, and Sigmar does not make mistakes.

By contrast, the Radical Hussites are stronger among workers, agricultural laborers, and small farmers in the south and east of the Empire. The Hussites believe that "the Strength of Sigmar is in the People," and that all believers stand equal in the ranks of His Army. Moreover, Hussites believe in "Strength Through Progress," that in order to be strong, the Empire must constantly reform itself to meet the crisis of the day. Proof of the righteousness of their beliefs is to be found in the Avatars of Sigmar, who are continually born into the world to serve as the Messiahs of the People, and show them the new path – Valten the Martyr being the most famous of these Avatars. Hussites await the coming of a New Avatar of Sigmar in the coming Time of the Comet.

While most of the conflict between Volkmarite and Hussite are carried out in pulpits and Church councils, both factions also recruit and sponsor Hammermen, the modern descendants of the Warrior Priests of old, who still carry two-handed warhammers as symbols of their faith, although they have long since traded red robes for long Army-surplus greatcoats. Among the common people, the Hammermen are seen as incorruptible tribunes who will see that justice is done in all those cases that the Reichspoletzei don't consider worth their time, but they are equally likely to turn their warhammers on their rivals.

In recent decades, the religious status quo has been violently disrupted by the Neo-Ulricanism of Nietzsche Zarathustein. Growing ever stronger in the North, especially around New Middenheim-Ulricberg, Neo-Ulricanism emphasizes the need for the individual to move beyond conventional social authority and become independent moral agents in the world by continually testing their strength against the darkness. As Zarathustein writes in Man unt Wulf-Man, “he who wars against the abyss shall never fall into the abyss.”

Institutions of Learning

In addition to the Imperial War Academy and the various State Universities, the Imperial University of Neüscience and Techno-Sorcery bears particular mention, as it is the institution whose Technomancers have given the Empire the upper hand in economic development and mechanized warfare. When the winds of the Aethyr shifted westward starting in 2594, gradually bypassing the Old World and drawn across the Great Sea to the "gulf stream" effect of the Vortex of Ulthuan, magic began to weaken on the Continent, even as a new breed of super-engineers began to produce inventions and discoveries once only possible through sorcery.

While initially denounced by the Colleges of Magic and rigorously investigated by the Schwarzmänner, the Technomancers were vindicated by the fact that repeated tests done by the Imperial Plasmic Survey demonstrated not even latent aptitudes for witchcraft. Under pressure from the Emperor and the General Staff, and with the strong patronage of the Monopolhauses, the Imperial Colleges of Magic, the University of Altdorf, the Nuln College of Engineering, the Imperial Gunnery School, and the University of Nuln were merged into the Imperial University of Neüscience and Techno-Sorcery (known better as the “Exploding University”), with rival campuses in Altdorf (specializing in theoretical neüscience) and Nuln (specializing in applied neüscience).

The common people of Altdorf and Nuln would be more outraged by the dangerously weird and weirdly dangerous experimental research perpetrated by the faculty and student body alike, if the University wasn't such a boon to the local construction, manufacturing, and sanitation industries. As it is, they only storm the campuses with torches and bricks when the University forgets to pay its parking tickets, or when the wrong team wins the University Blood Bowl Cup.

#warhammer fantasy #warhammer gaslamp #empire of man

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zombie-rott · 4 months

Text

The Driftwood & The Rift; Part I.

Pairing: Mountain X Dew.

Summary:

Not everyone enjoys Yule. Least of all the ministry's favourite fire ghoul. Marred by his sordid past in the pit, Dew locks himself away to begin his yearly tradition, but with Swiss no longer there to control him, things get out of hand. And if he's going to be banished for his shameful behaviour, he might as well tell one of his oldest friends exactly where his feelings lie.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, blood, injury, ghouls kissing.

A03

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Yule time at the ministry was always filled with joyous energy. It was a time for the clergy members, siblings and ghouls alike to come together and celebrate the winter solstice. Every square inch of the hallways and arches was meticulously decorated with holly wreaths, mistletoe and the sweetest-smelling pine trees harvested from the local mountains. The smell of fresh baking wafted throughout the kitchen quarters, and there was a distinct increase in sweet treats available after every meal time. Everyone practically oozed festiveness and excitement for the upcoming days of celebration.

Almost everyone.

There were a few who simply detested the season. Dew was among those who rejected the holidays and always had done. The ringing in of the season brought with it what Swiss called Dew’s ‘hibernation’, where in the fire-ghoul spent more time in his room than he did with the pack. In years gone by Swiss often opted to keep Dew company, playing card games with him on Solstice eve and eating some meals with him on the floor by his bedside. But since his mating with Cumulus, the multi-ghoul had a new focus. And while he still very much loved his platonic soulmate, he had many things to celebrate and enjoy about the season that he hadn’t had before.

When Mother’s Night arrived, Dew went about his usual Yule tradition. After his chores, he arrived back to the den to grab a Tupperware box of food from the platter Mountain was creating. He gave subtle nods to Swiss in the living area and meekly waved to others as he passed them by in the halls. Once he was locked securely in his bedroom, he lined his nest with soft blankets and began his yearly hibernation until January first, when he would emerge hungover and eager to move past the holiday season. There were only two reasons he had to leave; the Yule ritual and the First Footing, neither of which band ghouls were permitted to miss.

Dew did his best to ignore the din of the ghouls celebrating in the common area by drowning them out with music from his record player. At one point there was a chorus of singing as the ghouls indulged in vodka and mulled wine. The fire ghoul, already three glasses of rum into his ritual, turned his music higher. Eventually, there came the hammering of knocks on his door, drawing him out of his sanctuary and across the cold, stone floor.

“Yeah?” Dew barked as stretched to look through the peephole.

Swiss was standing on the other side, his face blushing with intoxication and a toothy grin pulling at his lips. He had one arm slung around Cumulus and the other pulling Rain against his side.

“‘Mon out Dewy!” He slurred, “I know you hate Yule, but we miss you, man!”

“You can’t force him out, love,” Cumulus whispered to her mate.

“Yes we can!” Rain interrupted. He began to hammer at the door again, both his fists pounding the wood, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Dew growled as his hackles began to rise and his blood started to simmer. He listened as Cumulus attempted to quiet the other ghouls, pleading with them to take it easy on their friend and respect his decision. But they wouldn’t let up, and Dew hissed as Swiss and Rain leaned into bang their fists once again.

Before their knuckles could hit the wood, he yanked open the door and met them both, fists raised, with a guttural snarl. His clenched jaw and exposed teeth caused the two excitable ghouls to lower their ears, both emitting a meek whine.

“Dew! I’m so sorry. They insisted on coming to see you.” Cumulus apologised, taking a subtle step backwards to avoid the heat radiating from the fire ghoul.

“S’okay Lus. You weren’t to know. But these two?” he turned his attention to Swiss and Rain,” Are you fucking kidding me?”

“We jus’ wanna’ include you, Dewdrop!” Rain whined, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture.

“You know damn fine I don’t want ‘included.’”

“But Papa is here-” Swiss interjected.

“So? I’ve food and rum. I don’t need Papa.”

Dew narrowed his eyes and hissed at them scornfully. Cumulus jumped, clasping her hands to her chest. She whispered her apologies and hurriedly ran back to the common area, leaving her mate and Rain behind.

“If I want to come out, then I’ll come out. Just assume I’m happy in my loathing of this shitty season, yeah?” The fire ghoul continued before slamming the door in their faces.

He didn’t even glance through the peephole to watch them leave, despite how amusing it would have been to watch them shuffle back to the pack, tails tucked between their legs.

His anger and frustration at their audacity made his skin crawl. Swiss, of all ghouls, knew how much Yule turned Dew’s stomach. They’d been best friends for years, and during that time had always spent the majority of the season together in a drunken stupor. Yet, the moment he finds himself a mate and experiences a slight resemblance of domestic bliss, he’s suddenly ‘Mr.Good-Tidings’.

Dew let out a deep growl at the thought, his claws practically itching to pull something apart. The palms of his hands spraked and lit with burning fury, and yet he knew there was nowhere for it safely to go. He’d danced with his anger many times before, and his walls bore the scorch marks to prove it. But he was a grown ghoul now, and more in tune with keeping his emotions and impulses under check. Even while tipsy on cheap rum, he wasn’t ready to let the beast break free. Not quite yet and not in the solitude of his sanctuary.

Taking several deep breaths he marched to the bathroom and turned his shower to the coldest temperature on the dial. He then grabbed hold of his rum bottle, stripped down and sat directly under the chill of the water. With each piercing droplet, he felt the heat within him dissipate. Gone was the far-off din of the ghoul pack, and with it went his hatred for his fellow kin.

All that was left behind was the bitter taste of alcohol as it guided him ever closer to numbness.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Dew awoke the next afternoon with a hangover resembling that of an earthquake breaking apart his skull. He groaned as he lifted himself from the floor of his room, cracking his limbs as he moved. While this was a normal part of his Yule ritual, Swiss was usually around to offer words of encouragement or at least solidarity in his suffering. But this year he was alone, and despite his internal temperature, cold.

From down the hall he heard the muted sounds of his ghoul kin preparing for the Winter Solstice feast. With the Sun Vigil long since finished at sunrise, Dew was in no doubt that the pack where giddy with excitement for that evening’s festivities, the thought bringing a bitter taste to his mouth. He would have to attend the ritual that night, or Sister would have his head.

Rubbing at his eyes, he staggered to the bathroom. The empty rum bottle lay sideways by the shower tray, water still pooled on the tiles and a damp towel was thrown across the sink. He bit back nausea as he brushed his fangs and pulled back his hair into a tight ponytail. But for what? Another day of drinking in solitude?

A persistent knocking drew him away from his haggard reflection.

“Dewdrop!?” Came the distinct voice of Phantom, usually ethereal but now shrill to the fire ghoul’s ears.

Dew pinched at the bridge of his nose and groaned. He reminded himself that this was Phantom’s first Yule, and the little bug didn’t know any better than to try and build bridges.

“Yes, Bug?” he called, his voice hoarse and alien in the silence of his room.

“I just wanted to check you’re okay.”

Despite his hardened shell, Dew felt his heart flutter. Satan below, he hated how weak it made him feel.

“I’m fine.” He bit back.

The knowledge that he was the resident ‘Grinch Ghoul’ wasn’t lost on Dew, and at times he even relished it. But for some reason, it wasn’t as fun when he didn’t have Swiss to wallow with him. Instead, he was left feeling like a bitter old man, angry at the world for daring to keep spinning. It was no one’s fault, least of all Phantoms.

With a sigh, he moved towards the door and opened it just enough to lock eyes on the younger ghoul. Phantom was bundled up in his usual oversized clothing, his fingers toying with the hem and his eyes wide like saucers. Their sparkle was lost, and that in itself turned Dew’s anger to nothing but embers.

“W-we’re having dinner soon. Do-do you want to join us?” the young ghoul stammered, his lips twitching upwards into a hap-hazard smile.

“I don’t do Yule dinner, Bug.”

“Oh...” Phantom looked downwards at his feet as he contemplated his next move.

“I’ll grab something later. Okay, kid? Don’t worry, I won’t starve in here.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Dew searched Phantom’s eyes only to discover genuine concern. Satan below, why did the little bug have to make this so damn difficult?

“Just leave me alone. That’s all there is to it,” he answered matter of factly before gently closing the door.

He didn’t even wait for a response, nor did he look back through the peephole. His only thought was on the bottle of whiskey waiting for him in his dresser and the solace he might find at the bottom of it.

Dew swore he heard Phantom whisper something akin to an apology, his voice shaking. He swore to himself that he’d apologise when the season was over, but this was his tradition and he wasn’t about to allow his softness for the newbie to change that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

On the third day (or was it the fourth?) Dew found himself wrapped around the toilet, his stomach empty and twisting with nausea. Whiskey had never been his favourite drink. It always left him violently ill and often violent in nature. But there was no one to fight with but himself, and true to his fiery nature, that’s just what he’d done. Without Swiss to keep him in check, Dew had made quick work of breaking his bathroom mirror and cutting his knuckles in the process. He vaguely remembered wrapping his hand around a shredded shirt with full intentions of treating it when he ventured out for food. But he never got that far, and the rags were now soaked through with blood, the swollen flesh beneath them aching.

“Santanus,” Dew groaned as he sat upright.

With all the grace of a newborn deer, he struggled to his feet, wincing at the sensation of glass buried within the soles of his feet. Sighing, he hobbled to the safety of his nest and took in the chaos around him. His room was pulled apart, feathers from shorn pillows covering every surface and bloody footprints marring the stone floor.

“This is a tomorrow problem…” he whispered to no one in particular as he reached for his cellphone.

He unlocked the device and winced as the light hit his sensitive eyes. There were six messages and ten missed calls waiting for him. The first was from Swiss, reminding him that he was loved and missed by not only the multi-ghoul but also the rest of the pack. Then there was Cumulus, chiming in to tell him that she was praying for him and available if he needed to talk. The final four were, surprisingly, from Mountain.

Dew’s stomach twisted at the thought of food. It was just what he needed to cure his perpetual hangover and so he dragged himself to the door to retrieve his bounty. He pressed his ear to the wood, listening for any wayward ghouls patrolling the halls, and only when he was satisfied did he dare reach out for his tray of cold leftovers.

True to form, Mounty had left no stone unturned, going as far as to supply a bottle of still water, no doubt in fear for the fire-ghouls liver. He had piled the plate high with all matter of meats, vegetables and bread, completing the platter with a selection of different sauces.

The tray was no sooner uncovered than Dew was tucking into the mishmash of a meal. He hadn’t realised just how hungry he’d been until he’d started to eat, and his body was thankful for the nourishment. He even allowed his tail to wag with some resemblance of joy.

Dew carefully placed the empty tray outside his door and retreated into his sanctuary to open yet another bottle of alcohol. This time it was a bottle of red wine he’d snatched from the kitchens some weeks ago in preparation for his hibernation. But before he could even pop the cork, a shuffling could be heard from the hall. The sound of feet, but not the heavy footfalls of Mountain’s boots he had expected, rather the dull scuffing of dress shoes. Then, as expected, a knocking resounded throughout his small room.

Dew sat still, his hand hovering above the neck of the bottle, and waited for the visitor to move on. But they didn’t, instead, they dared to knock again.

“I would like to speak with you, Dew. Apri la porta, per favore.” Copia’s thick accented voice sounded from beyond the wood and the fire ghoul winced. Papa had never visited him during Yule. He had always promised to leave him alone under the agreement that he attend the Yule ritual.

“Shit.” Dew whispered to himself.

The ritual was held last night when he was knee-deep in a violent episode of shattered glass and defeathering pillows. He’d missed it and no doubt Sister had sent Copia here to project her fury.

“Give me a minute!” Dew called.

He hurried to tidy away the torn pillowcases and their contents into a hidden corner of his room, and grabbing a strip of fabric he attempted to wipe the dried blood from the stonework. But it was no use, and after several moments and more knocking, the fire ghoul gave up and prepared to accept his fate. With a deep breath, and his tail wrapped around his thigh, he pulled open the door to meet the gaze of Papa.

The clergyman’s eyes wandered up and down the ghoul, and then over his shoulder into the nest beyond. He pursed his lips before emitting a deep sigh.

“May I speak with you a moment?” If Copia was angry, his voice certainly didn’t give it away. Instead, it was laced with genuine concern.

Dew nodded, stepping aside to welcome him into his den. He whispered an apology for the mess, gesturing towards an empty armchair in the corner. Copia gingerly took a seat and waited for the fire ghoul to join him. But Dew nervously remained standing, the sudden realisation that he was dressed only in a pair of boxers, with his hair in a greasy bun and his body stinking of sweat and booze in the presence of Papa beginning to sink in. He had never allowed anyone, only Swiss, to see him like this. Least of all the clergyman.

“Ah – um – I wasn’t expecting anyone.” Dew stuttered, his voice shaking.

Why was he so anxious? He had a good relationship with Copia, and it’s not like Sister would go as far as to banish him for missing one Yule ritual. Right? Maybe it was the booze or the persistent hangover, but Dew felt like he was going to collapse.

“That’s quite alright. Won’t you sit for me, per pavore?” Copia’s voice was soft and calm, as if his senses weren’t being assaulted by the bitter scent of spirits oozing from the ghoul’s pores.

Nervously, Dew sat on the edge of his mattress. He reached for a discarded cushion and held it tight against his middle, his fingers fidgetting with the soft fabric.

“Do you know why I’m here, Dewdrop?”

Wordlessly, Dew shook his head, even though he was well aware of the reason for Papa’s visit.

“Last night was the Yule Ritual, and as you know all ghouls, specifically those currently involved in the Ghost project, are expected to attend. While I understand and respect your misgivings towards this time of the year diavolino, the church does not.” Copia sighed, clearly struggling with the task he’d been given, “I’m afraid that Sister has sent me here with a reprimand and a call for you to attend a hearing in her office on the first of January.”

Dew felt his blood run cold, a mighty feet for a fire ghoul. His claws extended into the pillow, clawing at the fabric while his mind raced to conclusions. Maybe she could banish him after all.

“Fuck.” He uttered, “Oh fuck.”

“Please try not to worry, Dew. This may only be a warning. Perhaps you’ll be given additional chores as punishment. And I will be there to fight your corner against anything else, si?”

But Dew couldn’t hear him, his thoughts already miles away back in the stinking depths of the pit. To the unwelcoming arms of his former pack. To starvation and endless hunger, both for nourishment and affection.

Sensing his distress, Copia made his way to sit beside the fire ghoul.

“Dew, diavolino, you must come back from your thoughts.” the clergyman placed a gloved hand on Dew’s forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze,”Non ti stressare.”

“What if she sends me back?”

“You? Non! You are too special. It is just a – how do you say it – slap on the butt?”

“You mean a slap on the wrist, right?”

“Si, that one.”

Dew pulled the cushion up to his chest and buried his face into it’s softness.

“I’ve fucked up, Papa. I swear I had every intention of going last night, but I just….lost track of time.”

“Excuse me for being so forward but,” Copia looked towards the mess of the room, his eyes lingering on the bloody footprints imprinted on the stone, before coming back to stare at the bloodied bandage on the ghoul’s knuckles,”It seems you have been spending a little too much time at the bottom of a bottle.”

“Is it that obvious?” Dew sighed, well aware that he wasn’t hiding anything.

“Truth be told, Phantom was quite concerned about you. This is his first experience with your Yule traditions, and understandably he was rather worried you’d hurt yourself.”

“How ironic.” Dew mummbled.

“Irony aside, I know that Swiss not being with you might make it easier to overindulge. But please be careful.”

Dew nodded, his face still buried in fabric.

“I need you to look at me diavolino, and promise that you will take it easy.”

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul brought his eyes up to meet Papa’s.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take it easy.”

Copia raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by the ghoul’s promise. But he had no time to run in circles. Instead, he gave two sturdy pats to Dew’s back and stood, ready to take his leave.

“I expect to see you at the First Footing ritual. I do not care if you show up drunk, stoned or naked; Just be there, si?”

“Si, Papa.”

With that, Copia bid Dew goodbye and saw himself out. The man’s scent had barely left the room before Dew had polished off half the bottle of his red wine.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Swiss made another attempt to connect with Dew on the fourth day. He and Cumulus came knocking at the fire ghoul’s door, bearing gifts and the promise of good company. On both occasions they were told, with no sugar coating, to ‘fuck off’.

But the multi-ghoul was never one to take no for an answer, especially not from his best friend, and so late on the evening of the fifth day, Swiss returned once again with two bottles of premium whiskey he’d bought for a local distillery.

“Do you want a drinking partner?” Swiss shouted through the door.

“I’m fine all by myself, thanks!” Dew slurred, his body slumped against the wood on the other side, “ ‘sides, I’ll only bring you down.”

“But I have the good stuff! This shit’s nearly older than Papa, can you believe it? It’s got to be good!”

Dew contemplated his offering. If he let Swiss in he’d have to make conversation, and even though the multi-ghoul was a good friend, words weren’t flowing as easily. He took a quick look around his den, taking in the blood-stained flagstones and broken bottles, before deciding that it wasn’t fit for entertaining. And nor was he, bloodied, bruised and smelling like garbage.

Misery didn’t want company, not this time.

“No thanks. I’m all set for booze in here.” Dew sighed heavily.

“Dew, dude – “

“Please. Just fuck off.”

Swiss fell silent, and Dew knew he’d struck a nerve. He rarely got angry with Swiss, and if he did it was often quick, firey and forward. But this was different; this was a burning irritation that made his blood simmer. Never before had the multi-ghoul’s voice grated on his nerves until now. Maybe it was the five-day bender? Or maybe it was the fact that Swiss had abandoned him for his new fuck-buddy when Dew needed him most? Either way, the fire ghoul was so done with the conversation that he dragged himself up off the floor and into the furthest point of his den just to get away from its presence.

He vaguely heard Swiss curse him out, telling him to stick his cheap wine up his ass before he stormed off back to the common area. And for a moment Dew felt an inkling of regret. But it was shortlived as he thought about how abandoned he felt, and how nothing fucking mattered anyway. This all was temporary. The pack, his den, the Ghost project, his time topside; all of it. Even his companionship with the multi-ghoul couldn’t last forever.

Dew downed the remainder of his wine and tossed the bottle against the wall. It smashed, sending shards of glass throughout the room, a painful reminder of how he felt inside.

Time became lost after that, and the fire-ghoul found himself midway through another bottle and on his seventh repeat of ‘Louder Than Bombs.’ His phone remained switched off and beneath his pillow, cutting any contact from the world outside his door and leaving him isolated in his bubble of self-pity and intoxication. Dew was, for lack of a better word, spiralling and there was nothing he wanted anyone to do about it.

Except for maybe – perhaps – Mountain.

As the ghoul lay along his nest, cigarette in his mouth and the neck of the wine bottle grasped tightly in his fist, he thought about the gentle giant. He thought about all the times he’d left food outside Dew’s door, knocking gently but never pressing. He thought about how the earth ghoul knew just where Dew’s line was drawn and made damn sure to toe it ever so carefully. And he thought about the simple things, like how he’d slide a bag of home-grown marijuana beneath the door, and always remembered to include a pack of rolling papers and a few pre-rolls.

This wasn’t the first time Mountain had displayed such genuine kindness to the fire ghoul. In fact, just like Dew’s yearly ritual was to wallow in self-loathing, Mountain’s was to make sure he got enough to eat and kept himself topside. He’d displayed patience when no one else had both during Yule and various other points in Dew’s existence. And while, yes, the earthly creature was mellow and compassionate to all members of his pack, there was always a little more room left for Dew than for anyone else.

As he took another swing of his wine and drew the last few puffs from his cigarette, Dew brought himself to sit upright on his bed. The moon was beginning to rise and somewhere down the hall, he heard the laughter of his ghoul-kin. His gut twisted and, despite himself, he felt tears welling in his eyes at the realisation of just how alone he was.

With a sigh, he reached for his cell phone and waited for it to turn on. When the screen booted up he was immediately assaulted with an onslaught of text messages and missed calls from various pack members. But there was only one thread his intoxicated mind was hellbent on opening.

Dew felt a smile pinch at the corners of his lips. Mountain always had a way of knowing just what he needed.

He stumbled to his feet, careful to avoid the broken glass, and hurried to the door. There, sitting upon the usual tray, was a plate piled high with mac, cheese and jalapenos. Mountain had even included a generous bag of weed, wrapped up nicely with a red ribbon and a letter attached. Dew all but snatched the tray and retreated into the safety of his nest. He perched himself back on the bed, his legs crossed over each other, and began to devour his meal with reckless abandon. The weed, he decided, could wait. Right now his stomach craved carbs and that was just what Mountain had blessed him with.

It was only afterwards when he was basking in the ecstasy of a flavourful meal, that Dew allowed himself to relax back into the softness of his nest and unravel the earth ghoul’s additional offering. He gently tore the note from the ribbon and squitted at Mountain’s cursive handwriting.

“I’m here if you want to talk. Please take care of yourself”

Dew felt his face drop and a tightness developed in his lungs. He brought the paper to his chest, careful not to crumble it, and allowed a soft whimper to escape his lips. Satan below, he wanted nothing more than to run to him and ask to be held in his strong, work-worn arms. Mountain always gave the best hugs. They were warm and gentle and allowed Dew to take in his calming, earthly aroma.

They used to curl up on the bus together during their time with Terzo. After Dew’s transformation, when the majority of his wounds had healed, Mountain was the one to hold him tightly when he would wake screaming in the night. Sure, Swiss was his platonic soulmate, but Mountain? There were no words to describe what the earth ghoul was to him. He had been there from the beginning; through fire and blood.

But there was nothing in Dew’s booze-soaked vocabulary to say back, lest he pour his heart out. Even in his current state of mind, the fire ghoul couldn’t stand the shame of it. Instead, he bundled up the empty cutlery and left it back to its usual spot outside his door, before constructing the only text he felt appropriate to reply with. Something simple, without any indication that, yes, he would very much like to talk. Even though it would do him the world of good to have a shoulder to cry on, it was outside Dew’s current repertoire to let anyone else know that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Mountain’s routine of cooking Dew’s favourite meals continued for the next two days before something changed. On December twenty-seventh, the earth ghoul knocked as normal but didn’t leave the tray. Instead, he waited until Dew stumbled and staggered to crack open the door, revealing only a glimpse of himself to the world outside his bedroom.