#(That reminds me I need to go moderate the collection)

[thegreenleavesofspring]

Babe I've been blocked by people you've never even heard of.

#Mostly the Tolkien fandom XD #Apparently it's made the rounds that I'm a HoMoPhObE after Salt and Light #I'll go to reblog a good Tolkien take and I'm blocked #I have never actually attacked anyone for writing m/m or f/f #Just made a space where people can go to find stuff that isn't #(That reminds me I need to go moderate the collection) #I think sometimes about how the so-called Tolkien Fans would react to his presence and writing today

[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Series Master List Next Part

...........................................

Prologue: The Great Debate

Anxiety thrums through your body as you fidget with the knot of his tie. The intrusive thoughts are creeping in, but on the outside, you remain cool, calm, and collected.

"Please tell me why I have to wear a purple tie again?" He asks you with a huff.

You roll your eyes as you begin the same speech you have before every other debate. "Democrats wear blue, Republicans red, you're an Independent, so—"

"You wear purple to show that you're the perfect mix of both," He groans as he finishes your sentence.

You look up to him with hard eyes. You don't miss the flash of a genuine smile across his face before some television assistant comes to remind you that you have five minutes until he needs to be in place.

"Alright. This is the last debate before voting begins. By some miracle of God and my amazing campaign managing, you're ahead in the polls. Don't fuck this up for me." You tell him as you smooth out the arms of his suit.

"Don't fuck it up for you? I'm the one who is going to be in the Oval Office dear." He smirks at you.

"And I'm the one who is getting you there, and who is going to your Chief of Staff,— dear. So, like I said, don't fuck this up for me." You smirk back.

One more debate, you thought. You had to get him through one more debate and a few last-minute campaign stops, and then all your hard work would pay off.

If everything went according to plan, Lieutenant Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw would be the 47th president of the United States, and you, Y/N Wiseman, would be the youngest Chief of Staff to ever serve at just twenty-nine years old.

"Roos, Wise-woman, yall about ready?" His running mate, Lieutenant Jake 'Hangman' Seresin called out. "Or are you two still fighting over a tie?"

"We're good, Jake," you reply as you step back to admire your handy work. You've done a good job.

Bradley is in a dark grey suit with a deep plum colored tie. His silver watch is smart, but not flashy. His dark brown shoes offer a nice contrast to the suit without clashing. His sandy brown locks are styled to appear neat but casual. His mustache is trimmed to give him an edge of maturity.

It was something that most men his age didn't need, but being thirty-five and running for president, it was necessary for him. If elected, he would be the youngest to ever serve.

No, not if. When he is elected, he will be the youngest to ever serve.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road." You clap your hands. Bradley and Jake follow you out of the room. Bradley is directed to his mark while you and Jake find your seats.

You hear the welcoming music as the moderator steps on stage and beings speaking to the cameras. Applause and cheers cry out as the candidates step up to their podiums.

You take a deep breath. This is it. These next two hours are going to make or break over a years worth of work.

If someone had told you a year ago that the two former Navy pilots turned politicians, you met in a D.C. bar who hired you because of a bet were weeks away from winning the White House because of you, you would have laughed in their face.

But one game of pool, several beers, tears, and sleepless nights later, it was happening. It was so close, you could almost taste it.

.........................

"Oh my God you fucking killed it out there man!" Jake smacks Bradley on the back as soon as the three if you make it back stage from the debate.

Jake was right. Bradley did kill it out there. Your phone is already blowing up with Google Alerts from various media posts declaring him the winner of the debate.

His stances on education, heathcare, immigration, and the military blew his competition out of the water.

Frankly, he didn't have any competition because the other two candidates could only seem to focus on how young he was or his military background. Neither of them spoke much on their policies. Instead, they chose to try and poke at Bradley's past. However, that proved to be fatal for them.

America had rallied around Bradley's tragic childhood of losing his father at two, then being raised by a single mother, who died when he was barely nineteen. Bradley hadn't wanted to play the orphan card, and you really tried not to, but when he was lacking the polls, early in the campaign, you did what you had to do. He was mad at you for weeks but changed his tune when he saw the numbers.

One candidate, Reece Johnson, had tried to frame Bradley and Jake as monsters and killers since they were former military. You quickly rewrote the narrative, painting them as heros who received the medal of honor during their last flight mission. Bradley for risking his life while saving his captain and late father's best friend, and Jake for saving them both.

Every time someone tried to tear them down, you would swoop in and save them. All the while, running a clean campaign for them.

You were broken out of your thoughts by Bradley calling your name.

"Y/N. Hello. Earth to Y/N Wiseman." He waves his hand in front of your face.

"What?" You ask him. "How did I do?" He asks you. You can tell that he values your opinion. No matter how much he gets on your nerves or how much he grumbles. He needs to hear what you have to say.

"You didn't fuck it up for us." You tell him. A smile breaks out across his face. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me Wise-woman." He grins.

"Don't get used to it." You shoot back. "Alright, we need to head back to the hotel. We have an early flight to North Carolina tomorrow, and then a few more stops on the East Coast before we head to the Southwest." You remind him and Jake.

They nod their head and grab their belongings.

"I'm going to head to the parking garage and put my things in the SUV. Chapman, Davis, please make sure Mr. Bradshaw and Mr. Seresin make it down safely. Could you also alert Taylor to be waiting for us at the car?" You ask the secret service agents assigned to you three.

"Yes, Ma'am. Would you like an escort?" Davis ask you.

"No, I'll be fine. No one goes after the campaign manager." You joke before waving him off.

......................

You'd just gotten to the parking garage to put your things in when Taylor, your driver, informed you that he'd left his coat upstairs. You assured him you would be fine as he went to retrieve it.

You'd just finished putting your things in the trunk when you heard someone call out your name.

"Y/N!" A voice shouted. You turned around just in time to see a masked person standing a few feet away from you, with the barrel of a gun pointed directly at you.

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn't know what to do. You were frozen.

"Y/N! You bitch! You cost me everything!" They screamed at you. You heard them draw back the hammer of the revolver before they took their aim.

"GUN!" You head someone shout.

It all happened in slow motion. You couldn't fully process what was happening until it was all over.

You heard the deafening bang of a gunshot.

You felt a strong pair of arms wrap around you and pull you into them and down on the ground to safety while two men in black suits charged at the figure.

You watched with blank eyes as they tackled the person to the ground and wrestled the smoking weapon out of their hands.

Your ears were ringing, but you were vaguely aware of someone calling your name.

"Y/N! Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Bradley shook you.

Suddenly, you realized he was the one holding you.

"I—I'm alright." You stutter out just as you hear the click of cameras followed blare of police sirens.

"You—you saved me." You stutter, fully trying to process the situation. More cameras clicked as the press was making their way out of the venue and witnessing what happened.

Suddenly, it hit you. You had been shot at. Bradley and broken away from his security to save you. He had ignored protocol to protect you. He'd put his life on the line for you.

By now, the media and police were swarming around the two of you. Snapping picture after picture of the two of you while asking question after question. You knew those photos would be on every major news outlet, and the story of his heroism would go viral within hours.

As he helped you up, two things crossed your mind.

One, you were thankful to be alive.

Two, you'd just won the White House.

Eeeekkkk! Babes! I hope you enjoyed this first part! I'm excited to here your feedback!

Tag List:

@daggerspare-standingby @thedroneranger @shanimallina87

@teacupsandtopgun

@hecate-steps-on-me

@roosterscock

@roosterbruiser

@roosterforme

@seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe

@sunlightmurdock

@lt-bradshaw @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern

@luckyladycreator2

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@amklibrary

@emorychase

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x reader #lt. bradley bradshaw #tgm smut #tgm fic #tgm #tgm fanfiction #top gun rooster #top gun smut #top gun 2 #red white and rooster

[cilis-readings]

pac which deity should you reach out to

reminder: these are very general readings. messages can be picked from each pile and apply to you and your current situation. take what resonates, leave what doesn’t :)

just to preface, i work with a few deities regularly and have communicated with several for various reasons. this reading is all in good fun, all of the deities that came through in this pick a card reading were made aware that this was for a collective group of people and they agreed to be included! if you feel called to reach out to any of the deities below, feel free to do so! just be sure you do some research before diving into things — if you need help or don’t know where to start, my messages are always open :)

pile 1

the deity that made their presence known for pile one is the greek goddess selene! she made herself known with the moon card. selene is the greek personification of the moon. she is typically worshipped during the full moon and new moon but she can be called upon whenever you need her energy. she sees everything that goes on in the night and she travels across the sky in her chariot every night, pulling the moon behind her.

she may be helpful in your healing process if you have emotional wounds that still haven’t healed. she can be somewhat cold at times but that’s because people don’t truly understand her and her experiences. she can help you tap into your unconscious and become aware of the tools you need in order to heal. she also brings forth our shadow self, making us face those parts of ourself that we tend to shy away from. her main goal usually lies within the realm of having us let go of the things we truly have no control over. letting go of those things we cling so hard to gives us the freedom to heal and be happy with who we are and what we have.

pile 2

the deity that made their presence known for pile two is the egyptian goddess isis! she chose to make herself known through the temperance card. isis is the goddess of a multitude of things, including but not limited to healing, magic, fertility, and even motherhood. she is a goddess who is fiercely protective over her worshippers and even those who just casually work with her from time to time. she provides a very nurturing environment and makes you feel safe and warm inside.

she can help us hone in on our intuition and help give us the guidance we need to feel comfortable enough to share our intuitive gifts with others. she is also helpful when it comes to making decisions that might be difficult for us to fully comprehend, thus giving us the clarity we need to make the best decision for everyone involved. since she has that motherly spirit about her, she’s also strict when she needs to be. if she catches you procrastinating or losing motivation, she will put you in your place. she allows us to get into the habit of practicing moderation. she is very upfront about not wanting to deal with extreme behaviors or personalities, she wants to promote balance in any way that she can.

pile 3

the final deity that made their presence known is the norse god odin. he chose to make himself known through the magician card. now odin, just like isis and selene, has so many different facets about him but i’m going to try to limit myself for this collective reading. odin is the all father in norse mythology, he is the god of war and death, but also poetry and magic, hence him coming through as the magician!

odin is a great deity to reach out to do just about anything, but my experiences with him have to do with finding my own inner strengths and knowing when to reach out to others. i know that everyone’s experience is going to be different but those are just a few things he helped me with. moving forward, he can help us see what we aren’t seeing, he sees all and isn’t afraid to show us what we need to see. he can also help with learning to trust your own abilities and not having to rely too much on what other people think about. he can help us feel like we are truly capable and competent when it comes to knowing what steps we need to take to get to where we want to go. he also has a more parental aura about him like isis due to him being the all father. his wisdom and skills are very strong aspects of his and they tend to rub off on the people he works with.

if you’d like a more in depth reading i offer paid readings here!! i also have a tip jar if you’re feeling kind,, tips are not expected but they are very appreciated! any feedback is appreciated as well, i hope this reading was helpful to you in one way or another :)

#my readings #pac #pac reading #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #tarot #tarot reading #free tarot reading #collective reading #divination reading #tarotblr #tarot community #deity work #kemetic paganism #norse paganism #greek polytheism

[nothoughtsjustluxiem]

How they are as your s/o

Some headcannons I thought of while changing my profile

Please let me know if there are some issues, I'll fix it as soon as possible!!

Masterlist | BIO

- Vox is affectionate

- It's evident with how he treats his chat, regardless of all the mature jokes and comments he makes

- So imagine how he is off stream

- A clingy Demon who won't leave you alone claiming its to "Protect" you when we all know he just wants kisses

- But of course you must remember he is a top. And he will remind you every single time you guys are together

- Loves nicknames especially if they're affectionate and get you flustered. "Darling, it's time for breakfast" or " Sweething you'll need to be quiet, I will be live in just a few minutes"

- Talks A LOT about you to chat, if he's not flirting with them he's definitely talking about you

"Y/n? What are they doing? Last I checked they were in the kitchen preparing lunch. Don't I have such a sweet darling chat"

- Vox loves you, honestly he's so down bad but he won't admit that to you. You know how down bad he is for Ike and squeals whenever the Novelist leaves Vox alone in a collab. Vox won't stop talking about how much he loves the boy, well he's the same but for you

"Chat now that they're gone, did you see them being angry??? They were so cute I think I can die peacefully now" (He had to be reminded that he still had a collab with you to finish before he could pass peacefully)

- Now Ike is affectionate at a moderate pace

- He prefers to keep his relationship at a minimal in his streams and collabs

- But he can help himself squeak quietly when you're being so adorable in your collab

"Ikey if we move this lever, I think the next room we need to go to will show up"

Or

"Honey I don't like this, the game is getting scary"

- On the topic of nicknames, Ike does not really say your nicknames on stream but he doesn't mind if you accidentally slip up some occasions

"Good morning, Honey"

"My love!! It's lovely to see you today"

- Pretty common nicknames, he's not that fond of the lovey dovey types and thinks simple is perfect

- I want to imagine Ike has some membership streams where he and chat will try and write short stories or short novels for you. He'd then share it to you off stream and let his chat know what you thought about it the next time he's live

"Oh the short stories, yes I gave it to them. They loved it!! Told me to thank you chat as well for the lovely and creative stories"

- Ike sometimes asks you to watch his stream while he goes either to the restroom or collect something from outside

- It's not that common for Ike to collab with you since you both practically off collab 24/7

- An actual golden retriever and no one can say other wise

- Whenever you show up on chat or vc it's like you can see a pair of dog ears and tail pop out of him as he greets you

"HONEY!! HELLLOOOOOOO POGG!!"

- He loves you so much he's the most open about it to chat

"Hey chat, y/n showed up today and sent me some pringles when I ran out. How did they know????? It must be the instincts of being partners!!"

- When he collabs with you, prankings are either double or none at all

- When he collabs with you it depends, he sometimes wants to be playful. Most of the time he's distracted being with you to even prepare for the prank

"CHAT I FORGOT THE OBSIDIAN, I was too distracted talking with y/n. Don't worry we'll do the prank to Elira next time"

- His nicknames for you is pretty similar to Ike, but unlike Ike. Luca uses it in almost all sentences

"My love!!! chat says hello!!!!"

"Honey!! Look at this *uses elytra to show off tricks* POGGG"

"My Honey is so poggers right chat???"

- If its possible Luca would have a collab with you at least once a week. He wants to spend so much time with you

- If it is possible he'll make sure to collab with you every Sundays. It is now his goal to have you every week.

-Eyyyyyyy

-Shu is surprisingly a tease

- He's a tease, especially if you collab with him

"Y/n did you hear about what happened to Candace?"

"Shu-"

"CAN DE-"//playfully gets slapped by Ike

- But he's a sweetheart, very fun to be with either on stream or just together

- He'd definitely invite you to Valorant collabs

- Don't know how to play? Don't worry!! He will teach you

- Welcome to your private membership streams where he teaches you how to play Valorant and maybe even let you play with his keyboard while he uses his mouse

- He does not use nicknames, it's just not his thing. He thinks y/n is a perfect name anyway

- The most he'd do is shorten your name if it's long enough. Other than that yeah he just says y/n

"Y/n let's target practice, I'll be with you the whole time"

- He's not as talkative, but chat knows about you and actually love you a lot despite almost never showing up on his stream.

- Shu is actually such a clever man, the way he solves math problems is fan service to the yaminions anyway, but he's pretty affectionate off stream and likes to cuddle.

- Don't let this fool you tho, he will not make any excuses to tease you even in the slightest. Its his way of saying I love you

- Speaking of I love yous, he wouldn't say it to any of your collabs but he secretly dms you on discord that he loves you. Just because he had so much fun and wanted to let you know.

- Surprisingly I think Mysta is the most reserved with your relationship

- He loves you so much off stream that he doesn't mention you as much when he's live and even you don't mind that

- He will collab with you, but as a colleague rather than his partner

- The nicknames he uses are reserved when you're both alone

"My love, please stay with me forever. I love you so much"

"I love you too Mysta!"

- It's the fleeting stares Mysta gives to you when you're both collabing and his fans can see he's secretly whipped

- Does chat know you're both dating? Yes but Mysta didn't tell them. It was actually his genmates who confirmed the rumours.

- They were not aware that you two kept it a secret

Ike: "Mysta and y/n? I'd often see those two together in vc, what do they do there I have no idea"

Luca: "Oh yeah y/n and Mysta? They're together you'll actually see them together in vc all the time"

Vox: "Ah Mysta my boy, so whipped for his lover. You guys might not notice it but he's in almost every one of their streams

Shu: Oh Mysta and y/n are in vc today, let's not disturb them and continue with the stream

- I think the main reason why Mysta doesn't really mention your relationship is cause he thinks it should be something private, other than that he's scared on what his chat might think. But we all know he will be supported by his fanbase and yours.

That's all from me, thank you so much for reading!!

#luxiem #vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji

[unscrupulousartist]

hellerby fic, part 3/10

10 March 1929

Like most days since returning to the Lackadaisy, Mordecai woke in his modest one bedroom apartment between soft cotton sheets. Unlike most days, he was woken by a hyperactive Ivy Pepper.

"Good morning!" She cheered, bounding across his little room to pull open his curtains. Leafy plants sat on the white windowsill. It's already mid morning, but the North facing windows denied the worst of the sunlight from his personal sanctuary. "I need you to drive me to St Charles!"

Groaning, Mordecai pulled a pillow over his head. "Ask Viktor."

"Viktor's tired from the Kehoe run."

"I'm tired from the Kehoe run. Or have you forgotten, it was twilight when we returned."

Little hands took hold of the edge of his blankets and yanked, exposing him. "Viktor never betrayed my trust to work with the enemy," she huffed and grabbed his pillow.

He hissed. "You can't keep using that excuse to—to—bully me into doing what you want!"

"I can," she propped her hands on her hips. "And I will. Now get dressed." Sticking her tongue out at him, she spun around to stomp out into the main room. He took notice of her dress; a more conservative cut, reminiscent of something his mother might have worn to church, had his mother paid any attention to fashion.

Rolling onto his back, he allowed himself a moment to stare at the ceiling and rub the sleep from his eyes. At length he sat up, running his claws through his fur to attempt at taming the inevitable bedhead. Partially dressing, he ventured after Ivy to make his way to the tiny bathroom.

Over the years, Mordecai had collected a number of items to decorate his home. The initial design had, of course, been plotted under Mitzi's careful eye. It showed most in the cozy sitting area, with curved plush chairs clustered around a little fireplace, mostly ignored in favour of the desk set up adjacent to the kitchenette. At the time, Mitzi insisted it was for her own comfort, and indeed she had spent many afternoons sprawled across his otherwise unused chaise to complain about Zib, or Atlas, or Church, or whichever poor soul had evoked her trivial anger that day. Now, it's where Ivy sat.

"Aren't you ready yet?" She kicked up her feet, frowning at him.

"If you expected expediency, you should've called ahead," he left the bathroom door open as he fished for his brush. "What are you dressed up for? Where are we going?"

"Nevermind what!" She pointed a finger at him, then proceeded to outline a series of complex directions—no doubt pulled from the depths of her memory.

He rolled his eyes, but let her rant as he brushed his teeth and wandered around the apartment watering plants. Her voice followed him back into his room as he finished up his routine, purposefully going slow to rile her up. Taking a cue from her tasteful earrings and necklaces, he donned his favourite cufflinks and picked out his nicest shoes.

"Finally!" She jumped up while he pulled on his jacket. "Why do you take so long!?"

"I could go back to bed," he reminded.

"No, no, no!" Scooping a long box under an arm, she moved to push him towards the door. "Let's go!"

"How did you get in, anyway?" He asked, pausing to lock up. "Do I need to dispose of my doorman?"

"What you need are better windows," she snickered.

"The fire escape, of course," he sighed.

Offering his arm, they took the stairs at a moderate pace. They bid the doorman a good day, then walked the three blocks to the Lackadaisy Cafe to borrow one of the company cars. It was only Horatio behind the counter, and Ivy chatted with him for a few minutes while Mordecai continued to the garage. He drove around to pick her up out front, and they were on their way.

It wasn't until they were out of St Louis proper that Ivy looked at their surroundings. "Take that left!" She pointed at an oncoming intersection.

"This would be easier if you just told me where we were going."

"I told you, we're going to St Charles!"

Hackles rising, an old memory came to him. The details were fuzzy, the context unclear. 

"I'm drivin'—" Rocky hiccupped, laughed, and wrestled his way past Mordecai to the driver's seat.

Swaying on his feet, Mordecai tried to follow, only to stand awkwardly in the open door. He blinked. "Where are we going?"

"Someplace special," Rocky grinned. Then he took hold of the front of Mordecai's vest and started hauling him into the car—and, consequently, into his lap.

Feeling loose and amenable, Mordecai let the musician maneuver him up and over into the bench seat. He rolled with the motion, ending upside-down with his feet against the passenger door. Which was when he noticed: "Where'd my shoe go?"

This time, he recognized the bridge.

"There's a little road, a couple miles along," she gestured to the other bank of the Missouri River. Beyond her side of the vehicle, a streetcar rumbled past in the opposite direction taking people toward St Louis. "I remember, there was a funny rock with a tree growing up on top of it."

"Fascinating," he scanned the road periodically as they ambled alongside traffic, wedged between an empty farm truck and a couple other leisure cars. "Perhaps it would be helpful to consult a map."

"There weren't many signs," she admitted.

He sighed. "I'm beginning to think you don't actually know where we are going."

"I do know," she insisted, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. "It's just, been awhile since the last time I was there."

"Of course," he raised his chin to put on an air of arrogance. "Do I at least get to know the name of the person you're courting?"

Her nose wrinkled. "You're not allowed to judge him."

"Judge?" He raised a brow at her. "Who do you take me for?"

"Shush you," she swatted his shoulder, pouting. "You think you’re so clever."

Humming, he caught a glimpse of the little turn off that disappeared beneath the bridge.

The car bumped over the uneven path. Boneless, Mordecai noticed the reflection of headlights in the Missouri from where he was plastered against the passenger door window. The truss bridge passed out of and into focus, and he shifted to rub his dry eyes and look at Rocky. "Where are we?"

"He wakes!" Rocky sang. Changing gears, the car jolted to a stop and the engine went quiet; though the lights stayed on. 

"So it seems," Mordecai hummed. 

"Are you sure that we are awake?" Rocky asked. Only, his voice dipped theatrically and he turned to face Mordecai. One hand braced on the bench seat, beside Mordecai's knee, and he leaned close. "It seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think—" reaching into his jacket, Rocky pulled out his flask. "—the duke was here, and bid us follow him?"

Mouth dry, Mordecai pressed himself back against the door. "What?"

Rocky sighed, and uncapped the flask. "My own fault, for forgetting."

They lost their entourage one by one to the major intersections before Ivy pointed out the funny boulder wearing a tree. It was nearly another half hour of zig zagging through the outskirts of St Charles, then they pulled onto a semi affluent road. The houses there were modestly spaced between privacy bushes, offering an allusion of wealth.

"There!" Ivy leaned over the dashboard to point at a specific house. It was differentiated by plant boxes in the window and meticulously tended flowers. "Pull over, pull over!"

"Calm down," Mordecai took his time parallel parking, eyeing an angle that he might be able to see from the front window. "Does your father know you're making housecalls?"

"No," she glared at him as she pushed open her door. "And if you tell him, I'll sneak mayonnaise into your office."

His tongue curled in disgust, but she had already jumped out of the car. Following, he caught up to her on the cobblestone path to the front door. "And what if I tell Viktor?"

"Viktor is the one who told me to come here," she boasted. Juggling the long box she'd carted the whole way, she took hold of the door knocker and struck the hammer three times.

"Then why not take Viktor?" Mordecai crossed his arms. "And don’t give me that excuse about the Kehoe run."

"You know how Viktor is," she raised her brows.

Then the door opened, and an older lady frowned at them. She was dressed in something borrowed from the previous century, with narrow glasses and curls piled beneath a bonnet. "I've already found the word of God," she clipped. "And I'm not interested in buying."

"Goodday!" Ivy demured, performing a perfunctory curtsy. "Mrs McMurray?"

The name registered, and Mordecai's ear twitched.

"Yes," said Mrs McMurray. "I don't fancy on repeating myself."

"We’re not trying to sell anything. I was hoping to visit with Calvin?" Ivy asked, tone sweet and eyes innocent. "My name is Ivy. Ivy Pepper? I brought Calvin a present, for his birthday."

"Oh," Mrs McMurray seemed to relax, her expression turning to curiosity. "He never mentioned you."

"He does seem awful shy," Ivy agreed, nodding. "I've asked Rocky about a million times to bring me over, but—" Ivy hissed and bit her cheek when Mordecai stepped on her toe.

Mid headshake, Mrs McMurray didn't seem to notice. "Say no more. That nephew o’ mine is half handful, half dalliance, and not a speck of common sense. Come in, come in—" she stepped back, opening the door wide for them to enter. "The boys are working in the yard, we'll have to call them in for tea."

"Splendid," Ivy grinned, nearly vibrating as she tried to control her excitement. She bustled in, wiping her shoes and moving far enough along for Mordecai to follow.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he managed not to grit his teeth around the words.

"Of course," said Mrs McMurray. She shut them in, then gave him a considering look. "You must be Miss Pepper's chaperone. Mr..?"

Behind Mrs McMurray's back, Ivy pretended to gag.

"Mordecai Heller," he introduced. "I used to work with Miss Pepper's father—I've known her for quite a few years now."

"How quaint," Mrs McMurray intoned, eyes flat. "And what is it you do, Mr Heller?"

Ivy blanched, panic causing her fur to rise.

"Accounting," answered Mordecai. "Your roses are growing nicely. Do you tend to them yourself?"

"Yes," Mrs McMurray preened, her shoulders squaring. "A gentleman who knows his flora?"

"Plants are easier to understand than people," he explained.

"Well, then we should take tea in the garden. It's a good day for it." She hustled ahead of them at a good pace, spry for an elderly.

Ivy waited for him to walk beside her, and leaned close to whisper. "A gentleman who knows his flora?"

"Ivy-Ivy?" He mocked.

"Shut up."

"I hope Calvin doesn’t mind seeing his supervisor on his birthday."

"You're not anybody's supervisor, Mordecai."

"The paperwork says otherwise."

"Here we are!" Mrs McMurray announced as she threw open the back door. She charged ahead, maneuvering down the steps and toward a grassy patio surrounded by fruit trees and shrubbery. "Calvin! Roark! We've guests!"

Ivy elbowed ahead to pause on the stair; her ears perked and angled forward. Her grip on the gift tightened as Mordecai loomed on the step above her. Following her line of sight, he quickly determined the cause of her symptoms.

"Guests?" Freckle asked. He stood in about the middle of the lawn, a hatchet in hand for splitting wood, dressed down to his undershirt and suspenders. He blinked in the sunlight, lean muscles on display. A pile of logs beside him explained his state. 

Next to him, in a similar sort of undress, Rocky dropped the two splinters of wood he had been carrying to a wheelbarrow. 

"You have me at a disadvantage—" Rocky wagged his brows as he shrugged out of his vest. The whole while, Rocky managed to keep a hand on Mordecai's chest, pushing him lightly against—

"Miss Pepper!" Rocky shouted, taking immediate notice of them both. "What are you doing here?"

Ivy raised a hand, fingers waving as she held the gift with her elbows.

"She's come along to visit your cousin, Roark," Mrs McMurray tutted. "I thought, I surely misheard when Miss Pepper said you refused to bring her along for introductions. Have you no consideration for your family, Roark?"

Freckle coughed, and Rocky scooped the dropped wood to toss into the wheelbarrow. "I considered us to be living in progressive times, dear Aunt. If the boy wanted to introduce her to his mother, he would've invited her along ages ago."

Ivy chewed on her lip as Freckle panicked and looked at her. Mordecai prodded her along.

"Yes, I did wonder at that," Mrs McMurray narrowed her eyes at Freckle.

All of Freckle's fur stood on end, his tail raising straight as his shoulders hunched. "We work together—" he glanced at his mother, back at Ivy, then turned to the ground. "We never—um—"

"You know how he is," Rocky placed a hand on each of Freckle's shoulders, pushing as he spoke to Mrs McMurray. "Our Funny Freckle can barely speak to you, Dear Aunt. How did you imagine him approaching an intimidating figure like Miss Pepper?"

Snickering, Ivy smiled as Mrs McMurray looked back at her. "It's lovely to be here," she deflected.

Sighing, Mordecai edged past them all to choose a seat. He tuned out the idle chatter as he studied the round table set in the rectangular space. There were only four seats, each angled so one's back faced a corner. Seeing few opportunities for true symmetry, he clenched his fists and picked the spot with the best view of the ingress.

Ivy bounded over as Mrs McMurray followed Rocky and Freckle inside, and dropped into the seat next to him. A pleased smile decorated her face, and her eyes seemed wistful. "Did you see how surprised he was?"

"No more surprised than me," Mordecai removed his glasses to inspect the lenses, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "I somehow doubt that Viktor advised you to ambush Mr McMurray in his home."

"Not in so many words," Ivy shrugged, focusing on carefully placing the gift in the center of the table. 

"Just the other day he called McMurray a weak jawed milk drinker, unfit for our lifestyle."

Gasping, Ivy punched his shoulder. "He did not!"

"Not in so many words," Mordecai shrugged, brows quirking at her as he cleaned his glasses.

"You'll be nice today, Mordecai," she hissed. "I really like him."

"Ah, yes, the one quality I am known for," he replaced his glasses. "My niceness."

They had a couple more minutes to quietly bicker before Mrs McMurray returned with a tea-laden tray. Five sets, Mordecai noted, plus a little jug of syrup. "Make a bit of space please, Miss Pepper," she directed, not-unkindly. Ivy scrambled to pick up the gift again, holding it in her lap. "Thank you—Roark says you work together. What instrument do you play?"

"Not in the band," Ivy managed an awkward laugh, nodding in thanks as Mrs McMurray placed a teacup and saucer in front of her. "I—um—sometimes I wait tables at the Lackadaisy."

"Neither of them take their jobs very seriously," Mordecai added. "But the customers like them, so Mrs—" he hesitated a moment, and settled on a borrowed euphemism, "—M keeps them around." 

Ivy's lips pinched as she glared at him.

"Roark takes very few things seriously," Mrs McMurray sighed. "And Calvin?"

"We're lucky to have him," Mordecai managed. Ivy relaxed into a small smile. "He's good at… fixing things."

"He's always had a mendful spirit," Mrs McMurray nodded.

The door opened again, and Freckle stumbled out, as if pushed. Freezing, he glanced up at the table with wide eyes and pinpricked pupils; but he was well dressed, with a jacket overtop of a pinstriped vest.

Rocky waltzed out a moment later, violin and bow in hand. He wore his usual duds, sans jacket, with his sleeves rolled up. "Hark! Have you started without us?"

"Heaven forbid anything should start without you, Roark," Mrs McMurray tutted. "Calvin, come sit at the table. Roark, something soothing, if you'd be so inclined."

"Of course, Dear Aunt," he fell into a deep bow, then kicked Freckle into motion. As Freckle joined them at the table, sparing Ivy a shy smile, Rocky put his instrument to his shoulder to tune.

Though Mordecai had never made a habit of watching Rocky play—the opposite, in fact, had been his general goal—he'd had, over the years, plenty of opportunities. Enough to realize that, regardless of piece or company, each performance always brought the same image to mind.

Bow flying across strings, Rocky seemed preoccupied in some other plane of awareness. He stood on the car's roof, the headlights catching the underside of his chin and arms as he plucked a pizzicato. The fireflies were out and dancing about his head, an ethereal chaos that incited the musician to laugh and spin, tail wavering.

Mordecai's grip tightened on the flask, holding the borrowed drink between both hands as he leaned heavier on the car's hood. "What song is that?"

Rocky slowed, the rhythm cutting in half as he peered down at Mordecai. "Hm?"

"Well, Calvin," Mrs McMurray settled in the spot between her son and Mordecai. "Now is as good a time as any to say how you met Miss Pepper."

"Ah—?" Freckle grimaced and looked at Ivy. 

"Rocky brought him along to work," she jumped in. "And at the end of the day I asked him to come dancing."

"How forward," said Mrs McMurray.

Beyond the table, Rocky hopped onto the splitting log. He cocked a toe and pulled a long note from his instrument, then pitched into sing-song. "Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet are, of imagination, all compact."

“No quoting, please, Roark,” Mrs McMurray sighed. But she readied the fifth cup for him, placing it on the arch of the table closest to Rocky. “Or, if you can’t contain yourself, something less frivolous than Midsummer’s Night.”

“Do you have requests, Dear Aunt?” he asked, pivoting into a spin. “Perhaps from the happy tale of Hamlet?”

Freckle snickered and Ivy grinned. 

“That’s Shakespeare?” Mordecai guessed.

Rolling her eyes, Ivy elbowed him. “A little literature wouldn’t hurt you.”

“A big enough tome could cause significant blunt force trauma,” Mordecai challenged.

Ivy’s eyes widened as Freckle winced; she tilted her head significantly at Mrs McMurray.

Sighing, he shifted in his chair to address the matriarch directly. “That was a joke. I prefer to restrain my small talk to shrubberies,” he reached as if to feel the closest leaves, but they remained too far away. “Is this a Japanese Cypress?”

It proved a decent tactic. “You’ve a keen eye, Mr Heller,” Mrs McMurray appraised. She slipped into an easy lecture, and Mordecai made sure to hum and nod and ask questions at appropriate intervals. Rocky played an Irish aire, and Ivy leaned close to whisper with Freckle. Quietly, she passed him the gift box; he peeked inside, grinned, and looked up at her shyly.

A hasty equilibrium held for half an hour, before the performer descended from his pedestal and approached the table. “I’ve heard not a word of dancing,” said Rocky. Juggling bow and instrument in the same hand, he tipped a generous portion of syrup into his teacup.

“Then you need to clean the cotton from your ears,” Mrs McMurray drawled. “For it was the first thing Miss Pepper mentioned.”

“And you dropped the subject,” Rocky nodded. “No doubt thinking of our dear Freckle’s two left feet.”

Ivy giggled, and Rocky winked at her.

“Rocky,” Freckle hissed.

“Is there supposed to be a story there?” Mrs McMurray asked, looking over her glasses at Rocky. “Or are you determined to embarrass your cousin at every turn?”

“I entreat you to imagine a scenario where both could be true,” Rocky grinned at his aunt. “For Miss Pepper has spent many an evening teaching our dear Freckle to dance.” He cradled his fiddle like a ukulele, and plucked a quick tune. “Perhaps your eyes would believe faster than your imagination.”

Squealing, Ivy jumped from her seat and pulled Freckle with her. “Come on!”

Laughing, Rocky managed a quick sip of his tea before readying again his instrument. Propping a foot on Ivy’s abandoned chair, his eyes swept over Mordecai. But it was only for a moment, then the musician started a fast paced jazz improvisation. It was somewhat lacking without accompaniment, but it was more than enough for Ivy to guide a smiling Freckle through the Lindy Hop. 

“How lively,” Mrs McMurray failed to keep some fondness from her voice, and she managed a small smile. She raised her voice to address the merrymakers. “And where did you learn to dance, Miss Pepper?”

“Mostly my godmother,” she admitted with a laugh, spinning with Freckle. Her coordination survived the extra task of talking. “But all her friends took turns teaching. Even Mordecai!”

“Ol’ Serious Face?” Rocky snickered.

“Don’t be rude, Roark.”

“It’s simple fact, Dear Aunt,” Rocky soothed. “Though my memory might fail me, I am certain I have never seen this cat dance.”

Mordecai rolled his eyes and sipped his tea. “Many things have failed you, Roark.”

Gasping, Rocky struck a discordant note, then pointed his bow at Mordecai. “Take that back.”

“Calm down, Rocky,” Ivy giggled. She slowed to a stand, arms still around Freckle.

“Nope, no, only Aunt Nina calls me Roark,” Rocky shuddered.

Ivy sighed. “Are you done being dramatic? I was having fun.”

“The dramatics are never truly over,” said Rocky. He took the opportunity to slurp more tea. 

“It was nice of you to come visit,” said Freckle. He looked almost at Ivy, smiling. 

“I’ve been meaning to, for a while,” said Ivy. “But someone seemed to think I shouldn’t come over.”

“Let me play the lion too,” Rocky performed another gasp, then raised his voice. “I will roar that I will do any man’s heart good to hear me! I will roar that I will make the Duke say—”

“No more quotes, Roark!” Mrs McMurray yelled over him.

A prickle wound down Mordecai’s spine. He couldn’t help asking: “Who is this Duke?”

Rocky turned to him with a wide smile.

“Nevermind Shakespeare,” Ivy groaned. “Be quiet, Mordecai, or I’ll make you dance with me.”

“That would be a sight to see,” said Rocky.

Mordecai made a show of pulling his watch from his pocket. “If you’re finished dancing with Mr McMurray, perhaps it is time we go.”

Ivy opened her mouth to complain, but Rocky interjected. “A serendipitous notion. You’re no doubt going my way, you can give me a lift.” He turned to Freckle and Ivy and waved his instrument at them both. “Chop, chop, lovebirds. Say your saluts so we can be on our way.”

“Rocky!” Ivy stomped a foot.

But Mrs McMurray was unaffected. Standing, she picked up her teacup to take with her. “I suppose it’s prudent to take opportunities when you see them, Roark. But perhaps next time, you could do your cousin a favour?”

“We’ll make a meal of it,” Rocky placed a hand on his chest. “Next Sunday dinner, I’ll bring Miss Pepper around for a proper interrogation.”

She shook her head, then looked at Freckle. “Calvin, see your friends to the door while I gather your cousin’s things.”

“Yes, mother.”

The four of them watched Mrs McMurray retreat inside; then Rocky’s smile dropped and he pulled a familiar flask from his jacket. “Blast you, Miss Pepper.”

Freckle flinched.

“Don’t be such a spoil sport, Rocky,” Ivy huffed.

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times,” he complained as he tipped a measure of liquid into his teacup. As an afterthought, he offered the flask to Mordecai.

“No, thank you,” Mordecai drawled.

“We should go inside,” said Freckle. His shoulders were raised, but he still held Ivy’s hand.

“Not you, too,” Ivy groaned.

“You groan because you don’t understand,” Rocky flailed his arms, then drained his syrupy drink. “It’s bad enough we dragged Freckle into our sordid mess of a life—and yes, Miss Pepper, you still get to share in that blame, I don’t care how you rationalize it—but what do you think will happen if you, Little Miss Princess of St Louis, were to be followed? Am I to one day return here—” he gestured at the house, then pointed at Freckle. “—to our childhood home, to find Dear Aunt Nina dead or worse?”

“Worse than dead, Rocky?” Ivy crossed her arms.

Mordecai sighed. “There were four vehicles that crossed the bridge with us,” he said, standing. “None of them followed us off the main road.”

Arms dropping, Rocky blinked at him. “You’re certain?”

Mordecai hesitated, heat flushing beneath his fur.

“You’re certain?” Rocky asked, breath ghosting across Mordecai’s lips. “Absolutely? Because the others seemed to insinuate that—”

Mordecai kissed him. 

“Most of my job relies upon attention to detail,” Mordecai rationalized.

“But are you certain?” Rocky pressed.

He recognized some semblance of desperation in the other cat’s eye. Clearing his throat, Mordecai looked up at the well maintained home. “I’d risk my mother’s life on it.”

The musician relaxed, a comfortable grin coming back to him. “No you wouldn’t,” he challenged.

“I wouldn’t,” Mordecai agreed. “But, by definition, it wouldn’t be a risk because no one followed us.”

Mrs McMurray poked her head out the door. “Are you coming, or have we changed our minds?”

“Coming!” Freckle and Rocky chorused together.

The ensemble was hustled inside, and Rocky disappeared to sort his violin and do whatever else he still needed to do in the home. Freckle and Ivy loitered, talking in whispered giggles. It left Mordecai to entertain Mrs McMurray again; this time he focused on the photos on the walls. "You've a lovely home," he gestured.

"Thank you, Mr Heller," she nodded, following his movement. "It hasn't always been a peaceful place, but we make do."

Reluctantly, he took a look at whatever frame he had inadvertently drawn attention to. It appeared to be a family portrait, with a young Rocky and Freckle both front and center. Freckle's head was ducked and he looked up at the camera awkwardly; whereas Rocky had his normal huge smile, a tiny violin cradled in his arms. Behind them was a host of adults, Nina McMurray near the edge. More than half were close enough in appearance to suggest siblinghood, and one—who rested a hand on Rocky's shoulder—held a full sized version of the child's instrument.

"I'd imagine any house with Mr Rickaby to have been chaotic," Mordecai mused.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Mrs McMurray huffed.

Then Rocky came barrelling down the stairs, a case in hand and fully dressed. “Pick up your feet, players! Time to make our exit.”

“You could stand to foster a little more serenity, Roark,” said Mrs McMurray. She handed him a parcel of clothes. “Your laundry; pray, please get less blood in them next time.”

“I shall try, Dearest Aunt,” he leaned to kiss her cheek as he took the items. “But you know how clumsy I am.”

“Mhm,” she glowered.

“And we’re off!” He danced out the front door, then froze on the step. Shoulders dropping, he sighed. “Of course, he parked out front.”

“Where else would I have parked?” Mordecai asked. He glanced back to check on Ivy, who gave Freckle a quick peck on the lips. 

“Nevermind,” Rocky waved back at him, already on the move again. “I’ll drive.”

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy fanfiction #lackadaisy fan comic #lackadaisy fanart #fanfiction #the fic has been written but I'm still illustrating it #posting all the parts here before i upload to ao3 later #inappropriate use of shakespeare #i haven't picked a title #hellerby #mordecai x rocky #mordecai heller #rocky rickaby #*slaps fic* this baby can fit so many headcanons #like mordecai is a plant person #ivy and freckle being cute #nonlinear #flashbacks

[helianskies]

russpa and 18!!

this is now the second time Ivan is deprived of his scarf in the fic collection by the same person and im not even mad about it. have a cookie anon 🍪 :3

Snowman

“Hey, can I borrow your scarf? Pretty please?”

Ivan glances up from his book, gloved fingers holding down his current page so that the winter wind doesn’t steal it away from him. A few metres away, he sees Antonio had made good progress making his snowman—something the other decided would be the best use of the park snow, and an hour of their afternoon—and it takes no genius to work out why he wants Ivan’s scarf.

Normally, he would not take it off. He would not remove his beloved scarf for just anyone. It feels like something that holds him together—a big bandage—keeps him sane as well as warm—but for Antonio, it is a sacrifice he is prepared to make, knowing that its warmth would spread and be shared.

So Ivan stands. He folds over the corner of his page to mark it, slips his book into a pocket (yes, his coat pockets are that big!) and walks towards the other. With each step, he unravels more and more of his scarf from around his neck, and then gently hands it over to Antonio without any hesitation or reservation.

He trusts the other; Antonio is gentle, too.

“Thanks,” the Spaniard says with a smile that could mend almost anyone, before he turns and wraps it carefully around his snowman’s neck. He plays around with it for a moment, styling and draping it with decision, before he stands back, assesses, and then returns to Ivan: “What do you think?”

“He’s cute,” Ivan supposes. “I think he might need some eyes, though. Or a face in general.”

Antonio tuts, but his smile remains. “I’m getting there! I’ve got the rocks, and even some sticks for the arms!” he declares, gesturing to his small pile. “D’you wanna help me finish him? You can have your scarf back afterwards to warm you back up!”

Ivan is already bent over, picking up some of the stones, but he feels he has to point out, “My scarf will be a bit snowy,” which means it will be cold. He won’t put it back on immediately, even if he misses wearing it already.

“Ah.” Antonio pauses, chews on a lip, and then apologises to him. He feels bad. He didn’t even think! 

But, “It’s fine,” Ivan assures him without qualm. It was his choice to surrender it, after all. And besides: “We can’t let your snowman friend go without.”

They stand up straight and look at each other. There is a moderate distance between them, but not an impossible one; Antonio is able to bridge it, in fact, as he stands on his tiptoes, grabs Ivan’s shoulders, and gives him a soft peck on the cheek. 

To Antonio, it is natural—it is just something he does, before he steps back down and carries on, returning to his snowman so he can start shoving the sticks into its body. But to Ivan, it is like his scarf. It is something that warms him, something that heals him, something that helps him be happy—to feel more like… Ivan.

It takes a few seconds for that feeling to settle again, and for Ivan to return to the present moment. The tiny rocks seem to rematerialise in his hand, and, seeing that Antonio is working away, he duly joins in the effort. 

Together, they complete the snowman in a matter of minutes, Antonio directing how each stone should be placed in order to achieve the ‘perfect smile’ (though, if he is honest, Ivan knows no pile of snow could ever replicate the perfect smile as he knows it). Once it is done, they stand back. Antonio hurries again to amend the way Ivan’s scarf lays. Then he returns to Ivan’s side and says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Ivan replies. “You did most of the work.”

“But you helped,” Antonio reminds him, “and, most importantly, you gave him your scarf.”

“I gave you my scarf. The snowman is just lucky.”

The other hums, and his eyes return to the creature they have made. “Not just him,” Antonio mumbles—a thought Ivan only just hears—before he is suddenly pulling his own hat from his head, and placing it atop their masterpiece. “There,” he says, standing back once more. “Now we can both be cold for a bit.”

Ivan smiles. His arm falls around Antonio’s shoulders, and Antonio in turn leans against him. “I do not think the cold will not be a problem,” he muses, however. Not so long as the two of them are together.

[ full fic collection on ao3! ] [ prompt list here! ]

#helia writes #hetalia #hws spain #hws russia #russpa #russpa 🤝 nedport #when ur type is big man w/ scarf #anywho #subtle soft russpa is warm and i am so cold today so ty anon <3

[rwrbprompts]

Bi-Weekly Update

Just a couple friendly reminders to everyone

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[drosselmeyerwrites]

SessKag Fandom Drama

I wasn't going to say anything about the absolute shit show that this fandom has been for the last week, but some - what I'm going to assume right now given what all has gone on today - petty behavior just now has made me change my mind. You know who you are. And if it wasn't intended to be petty, you're going to have to forgive me and understand that, given the happenings of today, why I would default to that assumption. You'll also have to understand why I will be deleting particular content as my time allows, as I did just now. So, thank you for that reminder.

But without saying names, there's been a lot of shit. There's been a lot of opinions about shit. And there's been a lot of opinions formed without fully and responsibly collecting the data/ evidence that should have been collected prior to certain assumptions being made.

It seems like that may still be the case now, which is unfortunate.

If you have questions or concerns for valid reasons (not just for shits and giggles curiosity), you are free to slide into my DMs and ask what you need to. I do not particularly believe in protecting those who baselessly slander people behind the scenes with conveniently curated screenies of partial bits of conversation to drive a particular narrative. If people responsible for moderating fandom spaces are unsure of the quality of the content they've been exposed to concerning these issues, I'm perfectly content with giving you mine - unedited. Be adults and come get what you need if you need it. For now, I really don't much care for the mean girl shit that has taken over SessKag. It's fucking exhausting, and I'm going to take a time out from writing for it. As of now, all my SessKag pieces are on pause, and I'll get back to them maybe someday. To those waiting for updates, I apologize. I just don't have the energy for the crap in this environment currently. Some people in this fandom are the bull in the china shop of what has been a comfort space for many and have made it feel like an unsafe space. It is really ridiculous that it has gotten to this point and that a lack of being able to not jump to conclusions without covering all bases and impetuous actions have brought things where it currently stands. It doesn't have to stay this way. I hope it doesn't. SessKag has a long history, and I'd like to see it flourish again. Last thing, for those still hanging out, keep your comfort space if SessKag is still that for you. Unfollow who you need to. Block who you need to block. Hell, unfollow and block me if that makes your fandom experience better. You should protect what you enjoy at all costs because you having a safe space or a place to run to for a well-deserved break has more value than can be quantified. Your tumblr feed, AO3 experience, Discord experience, etc. should be filled with what brings you joy and keeps fandom fun for you. There are only so many hours in a day, and none of those need to be wasted on adding stress to you life. I wish I had taken the above advice myself sooner. Peace.

[1d1195]

hi sam,

I need big sister advice...how do yoy stop yourself from liking something...and not just a person, just anything...celebrities, a fandom, a show, how do you stop the obsession before you go down the rabit hole

First and foremost 😭 big sister advice I'm 😭😭😭😭😭😭

AS ALWAYS--SORRY FOR THE LENGTH OF MY RESPONSE.

Okay, second, I am happy to give you my advice but I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask given my personal history with Twilight/1D/Harry.

HOWEVER. A little tangent: I am obsessed with iced coffee as well. Not sure I have mentioned that on here (you can probs tell from my stories, but anyway). I am constantly in a battle between "I should just make coffee at home" and "it's only $4" literally every day. I constantly here about how my $4 a day routine is attributing to my lack of a house in today's market. Not to toot my own horn but I do a lot for my family, my students, my friends, my boyfriend--pretty much anyone that enters my life, you get a piece of me that's yours to have. I don't do a whole lot for myself--self-care or otherwise. So I think life is short and I try to remind myself that $4 a day is not the worst thing in the world. (probably a bad mindset but if I don't do something for my mental well-being I think I'm going to explode).

The reason I say this is because I DO think life is short and you should allow yourself some indulgences. Otherwise, what's this all for? I'm not saying you should spend thousands on an obsession (see also: my Harry collection 🙃) but if you enjoy something, there's no reason you shouldn't as long as it's not causing you physical, mental, or financial harm (in my opinion).

For me? I have to limit myself. I used to watch EVERY interview, read EVERY article, watched EVERY Instagram story the entire 1D fandom had to offer and it became so overwhelming, so EXHAUSTING I had to stop. Like in my crazy teenage mind I thought that if I didn't watch EVERY piece of 1D things people would call me out for not being a real fan or that Harry/Niall would one day find out I didn't see their interview on Oct 12, 2013 and they would kick me out of the club.

It's part of why I had such a big hiatus on here. I am a huge planner so setting time for myself to do what I want to look at, watch, think about (albeit, it's very little time these days) is really important to me. Also, I have to decide if it's healthy or not for me to do so. I was staying up all hours a night to write stories and post and interact here on tumblr. It wasn't good for me.

I think just reframing the context is important too. I would like to believe I'm not really obsessed anymore. I have a great appreciation for shows and celebrities. I like to believe I know a LOT about Harry (but obviously I don't--para-social stuff ya know?). I know a great deal about How I Met Your Mother and The Princess Bride. I love potatoes, babies, math, reading, etc. I don't think these are obsessions they're just things I love.

Obsession often has a negative connotation and while I do like to tell people I have an obsession with Harry Styles for exaggeration/honestly what else am I supposed to call it? I don't think it's the right thing. Tbh, corny as it sounds I have the utmost respect for Harry. I think he's wonderful of course, and I wouldn't have known that without being so crazy for 1D for so many years.

So, I doubt any of this was helpful so I'll try to summarize:

I would really think if it's obsession or just something you really enjoy. I think there's a pretty significant difference. I also think it's okay to indulge in the things you love. Life is too short to not enjoy anything--especially something you're feeling passionate about. Moderation is important for this though. Your well-being is more important than knowing every detail about the thing you love. Not everything has to be an obsession.

If this wasn't helpful, let me know I'll try again 💕 Thank you for asking me for advice! This is like the sweetest, nicest thing 😭

xoxo

[cha-melodius]

If there are still slots open for the Christmas prompts, may I ask for 6. “Is that present for me?” with Lokius? (or 3. “Your lips are cold.” as a backup number). Thank you and I hope you'll reach the 1 000 000 words (also, just saying, that's very impressive!!).

(Ok, so I might have cheated a liiiiiiittle by combining two prompts into one, which was inspired by the fact that @okilokiwithpurpose had prompt #3 as a backup. But hopefully the fact that this fic is 4x as long as most of the others in this challenge makes up for it! I had written a tiny bit of this AU, but never shared, and somehow as I was looking at it again these prompts just slotted into place. So here you go, an actor AU, which I can't believe no one had written for these two before, with some fake dating thrown in for fun. I hope you all enjoy! Also: @an-asgardian I wasn't sure if your AO3 name was different, but let me know and I can gift it to you there if you like!)

True Hollywood Romance

Read it on AO3 (M, 8.1k)

Toronto International Film Festival, early September

“You cannot tell me you’re intending to wear that,” Loki blurts, in lieu of a greeting, the moment he opens the door and sees Mobius standing on the other side of it.

Mobius glances down at his outfit: a grey suit that, yes, he has worn to more than a few previous events. Not that anyone would notice. No one ever asks who Mobius is wearing, he’s never appeared on any fashion lists (best or worst), and that’s the way he likes it. He knows he’ll be comfortable, and he doesn’t have to worry about hurridly-sewn seams failing or a jacket being mistakenly cut too tight across his shoulders. He hasn’t so much cultivated his look as actively not cared about it, and he’s gotten to a point in his career where people were inclined to let him do as he wished.

Until now, it seems. Loki is still staring at him in something akin to horror, which is a bit much. It elicits a knee-jerk reaction to get defensive and dig in his heels, but Mobius shoves it down and forces a tight smile onto his face. This is to be their first official public appearance, and it wouldn’t do to start things off on the wrong foot.

“You have a better idea?” he challenges, raising his eyebrows.

“Go back in time and get a suit that’s properly tailored,” Loki opines, before he sighs, gesturing Mobius into the hotel room. “You can’t wear that shirt.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Loki gives him a withering look of disdain that is definitely pushing it. “It’s boring, Mobius. Take it off, I have one that will work.”

Mobius sighs out heavily through his nose, trying not to grind his teeth together, and reminds himself that he agreed to this. God knows why. Your career is stagnating. No one’s talking about you, Ravonna had said. You need to shake it up, and this is the perfect opportunity. Then his agent had delivered the final blow: If you want that movie green-lit, you’ll do it.

Fucking Hollywood. Odin Borson had one of the biggest production companies on the block and a troublesome, wild-child son who needed an image rehabilitation. Who better to play the moderating influence than someone who’s never been a front page headline in the tabloids in his life? The TV actor who’d been beloved in the same role he’d played for over a decade, but boring in every other respect? Even when he’d come out several years ago, the news had barely made a ripple. He’s been trying to get this movie made for years, though, so a few months of pretending to date the producer’s kid had seemed like a small price to pay.

He’s not so sure about that anymore, though.

He follows Loki through the palatial suite to an entire walk-in closet of clothes—how on Earth could he have so many, they’re only here for a few days—and waits as the other man roots around a collection of shirts. Loki pulls several out and frowns at them before tossing them away, heedless of where they land. Sequins, ruffles, lace, one that seems to be hot pink— Christ, Mobius needs a drink. 

“I really doubt any of your stuff is going to fit me,” he tries in a last-ditch effort.

“It’ll be close enough,” Loki says, waving him off dismissively. “Keep your jacket buttoned on the red carpet and no one will notice.”

Mobius sighs, again. He has a distinct feeling that his life will be easier if he just lets Loki do what he wants. Within reason. “I’m gonna have a drink. You want anything?”

Loki’s mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. “Not allowed to drink before these things anymore,” he says stiffly, still focusing on the shirts in front of him.

“Oh. Noted.”

Possibly they should have actually talked more before this, but Mobius had counted on film festival red carpets being relatively low pressure when it comes to interviews. Loki has a small part in one of the movies from Odin’s production company, hence the appearance, but he’s not a lead, so no one expects the press to want to talk to them that much. They’ve been provided a few essentially scripted lines about their relationship to use when someone inevitably asks: they met on a ski slope in Vail, hit it off over coffee, etc, etc. Never mind that Mobius has never been to Vail. He doesn’t even ski, unless you count a jet ski.

Mobius briefly wonders if he should also abstain out of courtesy, but he figures Loki would say something if it was going to be a problem. Hopefully it won’t, because there’s no way Mobius is gonna get through tonight without at least one Scotch. He’s pouring a healthy portion into a crystal tumbler from the room’s wet bar when Loki appears at his side again.

“Here. This one,” he says, thrusting the garment into Mobius’s hands. It’s a rich, cerulean blue, and when Mobius holds it out he sees it seems to be a mock turtleneck and also…

“Is this… sparkly?”

“It’s a subtle shimmer,” Loki corrects superciliously. He hesitates for a second and looks away, avoiding Mobius’s gaze, and when he continues his voice is oddly tight. “It will bring out the blue of your eyes.”

Mobius swallows. Loki’s not actually dressed yet, still wearing a bathrobe, the fronts of which have by now slipped open down to where it’s belted at his waist, revealing a tantalizing swath of smooth, sculpted chest and abs that Mobius has to force himself not to stare at. Look, he’s not a monk, and Loki is a very attractive man. That fact may or may not have swayed his decision to go along with this circus. Still, this is all fake. Loki is way out of his league, and he’d do well to remember that.

Of course, he hadn’t banked on having to deal with Loki’s chest all night. It turns out he’s not wearing a shirt at all, only the trousers and jacket of a deep green tux with tails so long and elaborate they’re reminiscent of a skirt. He looks, to put it simply, stunning, and Mobius can’t help but feel a bit dull beside him. Even in a shimmery turtleneck, which, ok, did look better under his suit than what he was planning on wearing.

The appearance goes off without a hitch. They walk the red carpet, talk to a few reporters, smile like they’re enjoying themselves. Loki sleeps through the screening of his own movie, but Mobius is enthralled. He’d never really seen much of what Loki had been in before—mostly a number of prosaic runs as villains in genre flicks and their sequels—but in this he’s utterly arresting. He steals every scene he’s in, few though they might be. It makes Mobius wonder what happened, how he got so off track in his career, because clearly he deserves a lot more.

Halfway through the movie, Loki’s head tips onto his shoulder, and he doesn’t have the heart to move him. Loki jerks awake at the audience’s applause when the credits roll, going red as he realizes that he’d been using Mobius as a pillow. His eyeliner is slightly smudged and his hair is mussed, and the whole picture is far too soft and endearing. Even though they’re surrounded by a couple hundred other people it feels remarkably intimate, and something twists in Mobius’s gut.

This might be harder than he previously expected.

~~~~~

Hollywood, California, late September

“Is that a present for me?” Loki says, a teasing note in his voice and a grin on his face as he slips into the seat opposite Mobius.

They’re sitting outside at a cafe in Hollywood, in full view of the paparazzi that lurk unsubtly across the street. Odin’s people called them, of course. Another of their scheduled appearances, this time a casual lunch. Mobius tries to smile like he doesn’t care that his every move is being documented. He’s never elicited this kind of attention during his entire career, and he’s not at all disappointed about that.

“The very one provided by your manager,” Mobius answers dryly. It had been delivered to his apartment with a note explaining that he was supposed to give it to Loki at the arranged time. “I take it you purchased this for yourself?”

“Mm,” Loki hums as he eagerly tears the top off the box and pulls a luxurious green silk scarf out of it, winding it around his neck. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. This a thoughtful gift from my dear beau.”

Mobius feels his face go hot at the fake pet names and blames the sun. “How can you wear that right now? It’s scorching out here today.”

“I’m always cold,” Loki tells him. “So. Honey. Dearest. Beloved,” he says, grinning over the menu at Mobius’s huff as he gets more flustered by the second. Turns out bearing the full brunt of Loki’s charm is a lot. “What looks good?”

Once they get settled in things get easier, though. They actually talk, really talk, for the first time since this whole thing started, and Mobius finds out that Loki’s not only insanely good looking but also sharp and engaging, talking excitedly about this or that project, going off on long tangents about random topics that interest him. It’s so unlike the haughty, stand-offish demeanor that he’s known for that Mobius is thrown off for a second, but he ends up enjoying himself too much to think about it too hard.

“The worst place I’ve ever had to film was definitely actual Siberia,” Loki is saying. They’re now undergoing the actor’s rite of passage in getting to know one another: sharing filming horror stories.

“Oh, that was The Void, right? The post-apocalyptic one,” Mobius says without thinking.

Loki blinks at him. “I thought you hadn’t seen any of my films.”

Mobius’s chewing slows to a halt as he realizes what he’s just admitted. “I mean. I’d seen a couple.” And if, since TIFF, he’d watched all of them, that was his business and nobody else’s.

“No one’s voluntarily seen The Void, Mobius,” Loki teases, a slow grin spreading on his face. “It’s not even on any streaming services.”

That is true. Mobius had had to buy the damned thing, and even finding a copy had been trying. Which was actually a shame, because yes, the movie had been terrible—abysmal writing, with a hackneyed love story forced in at the end—but Loki’s performance was exceptional. He’d played several different versions of the same character, each twisted a little differently, and it had been a bit of revelation.

“Musta caught it when it came out,” Mobius mumbles as he shrugs, avoiding Loki’s too-mirthful gaze. “Anyway, it’s gotta be more fun than always filming on a soundstage. Fifteen years of it gets real old, let me tell you.”

“All those places you traveled to? Pompeii? Those couldn’t have all been sets,” Loki says, which surprises Mobius enough to pull his eyes off his plate again.

“Now who’s been watching old TV series?” Mobius shoots back. “You can’t expect me to believe you saw Murders in the Multiverse when it aired.”

Loki sniffs, trying his best to look as if he hadn’t just been caught out. “Those are all on Paramount Plus,” he says dismissively. “I just put them on in the background for research. Barely paid attention.”

“Right. Research,” Mobius huffs, amused. “Well, they were all sets. Even Pompeii.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad, though,” Loki says, tipping his head slightly. “You stayed for a lot of seasons. Even through that miserable amnesia arc.”

Mobius snorts. “Never overestimate the pull of a steady paycheck. I still get decent residuals from that show. But after a while they didn’t want to pay me what I deserved, and I got bored playing a time cop. Wanted to do something new and different. Get out of my comfort zone.”

“Which is why you’re here,” Loki says, a flat, difficult-to-read expression on his face. If Mobius didn’t know better he’d almost say Loki looked upset, which doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Mobius allows. He picks at his food as they fall into an awkward silence, until finally he decides to just say it. “It’s been nice getting to know you, though.”

Loki looks up at that, slightly surprised, before a careful smile spreads across his face. “Yes. It has.”

~~~~~

New York Film Festival, October

“This is inhumane,” Loki whines the moment they step out of the limo and onto the red carpet.

“You’re the one who insisted on wearing a backless outfit,” Mobius reminds him. “I warned you.”

Not far away from where they stand, the fans lining the barricades are bundled up against the frigid wind of the unseasonable cold snap that had hit New York a day before the festival. Even Mobius is uncomfortably cold, and he’s wearing a wool suit. A new bespoke Italian wool suit that Loki had insisted upon for the festival. He almost wore a scarf, too, before Loki objected. Even though it was a nice scarf. Mobius had thought the outfit was pretty sharp, actually.

Clearly, Loki has somewhat warped views on what is appropriate for the weather, because he’s wearing some kind of shiny something that Mobius doesn’t even know how to describe—like a pair of trousers with a backless waistcoat attached on top, and nothing else. Christ, this man is dead set on ruining him. Especially because he huddles close for warmth, and Mobius has really no choice but to wrap his arms around him as hundreds of camera flashes go off from the press corps area nearby.

They’ve never been this close. Mobius has pressed a hand to his lower back, and Loki has draped himself off Mobius’s elbow, casual signs of affection that are easy, but this is quite beyond that. His hands splay over Loki’s bare skin as Loki tucks himself against his chest, and suddenly their faces are bare inches apart.

“You should kiss me,” Loki murmurs.

Mobius’s brain experiences a full shutdown, and it takes several moments to reboot. “What?” he manages, his voice strangled.

“We haven’t kissed for the cameras yet.”

Mobius does not remind him that they have not kissed at all, because they’re not actually dating. They don’t have to kiss. Lots of celebrity couples keep those things more private. Certainly plenty of them have never locked lips on the red carpet. Of course, Mobius knows as well as Loki that there have been rumors—blind items, chatter in the tabloids—that their relationship is just for PR. Which is true, but that’s not what they want people to think. A kiss would help sell it. That’s all this is.

No more than a few seconds can have passed, but it feels like an eternity before he manages to give a small nod. Loki is taller than him, so he has to stretch up on his toes a little as Loki dips his head to meet him. It doesn’t need to be more than a chaste press, but Loki’s lips, slightly tacky from the gloss he’s wearing, move softly against his and linger with the barest tug on Mobius’s lower lip as they part. It very effectively punches all the air from his lungs and leaves him reeling, which is kind of suboptimal because they’re still standing on the red carpet. Then there’s the fact that Loki just stares at him after they part, his eyes slightly wide like he hadn’t really meant to do that.

“Your lips are cold,” Mobius blurts, somewhat nonsensically, because he has no idea what else to say.

It turns out to be the right thing, though, because Loki laughs softly. “Can’t imagine why,” he drawls. He pulls away slightly, and Mobius tries not to feel disappointed about that. “Can we go inside now?”

“Just a few more minutes, sweetheart.” The endearment slips out, and he can feel Loki staring at him, but he doesn’t look over.

Instead, he does his job. Slide to the side so Loki’s outfit is visible. Lace their fingers together when Loki grabs his hand. Smile for the cameras.

Ignore the massive, hard knot settling into his gut.

~~~~~

Paris, France, November

“Yeah, I got it,” Mobius says over the phone as he wrestles his suitcase through the narrow hallway. “I’ll read it soon. It does look interesting.”

“The director specifically inquired about your schedule,” Ravonna tells him. “This is a very good sign, Mobius. You’re on people’s minds.”

“I know,” he sighs, because he’s tacitly admitting that she was right.

Even if this movie isn’t what he’s after, the fact that people are actually interested in him for the first time in… well, he can’t remember—it’s definitely good. And a little surprising. It’s not that he didn’t think the plan would work, but— ok, he didn’t really think this plan would work. Apparently he was wrong about that.

The numbers on the door to the hotel suite that’s been booked for them are ornately wrought in gold leaf, and he blinks at them for a moment before fumbling with the key. To say he doesn’t stay in places like this would be vastly understating things. The concierge had looked almost offended when he said he could handle is own bags. He’s a simple guy, not built for a life like this. Ravonna is rambling in his ear as he finally manages to get the door open, but when he steps into the suite he interrupts her without a thought.

“Ravonna, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

It’s huge, of course, and outfitted in Rococo fashion, with a large sitting area, what looks to be an office-slash-library, another sitting room, a bathroom larger than his first apartment, and a bedroom with a massive four-poster bed. One bed. He’s still staring at it when Loki pops up from where he’d been reclining on one of the couches and walks over to him.

“Where’s the bellboy?” he asks, peeking around Mobius’s back as if one might be hiding there. “I was going to send for champagne.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Mobius protests, only half paying attention.

“Mimosas, Mobius. Catch up.”

“Sorry, is that the only bed in here?”

Loki pauses in his route to the room’s telephone and looks back at him, confused. “Of course. Didn’t they tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“One of those blind items about us was definitely leaked by a hotel staff member. The one about separate rooms? We can’t afford those kinds of rumors. Hence.” Loki waves his arm at the bed, then blithely continues on to the phone.

It makes sense of course, they would be sharing a room and a bed if they were really dating, but that doesn’t make it any easier for Mobius to deal with. “I guess there are a lot of couches,” he allows. None of them look like they’ll be great for his back, but it’s only a couple of days.

Loki frowns at him. “You can’t honestly be planning to sleep on a couch, Mobius,” he scoffs. “The bed is plenty big enough for the two of us. Plus, the cleaning staff might notice.”

“Yeah, of course,” Mobius says, biting down on an exasperated sigh. He’s jet lagged, and exhausted, and being reminded of how much of an act this whole thing is frays his last nerve. “It never ends,” he groans.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this,” Loki counters. “It’s not that big of a big deal.”

“Heaven forbid we actually get some moments where we don’t have to be performing, even when we’re alone!”

Loki goes stiff, his mouth narrowing in to a hard line, and Mobius knows he’s made a mistake. “Well. I’m sorry that this is so difficult for you,” he says, his voice cold and calm in the very worst way.

“Now wait a second, it’s not about—” Mobius tries, but Loki cuts him off.

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” he says, then turns swiftly on his heel and marches into it, slamming the door behind him.

Mobius winces. Christ, he mucked this one up good. They’d been getting along so well that it’d been easy to sell that they enjoyed each other’s company, but this certainly isn’t going to help things. This trip was supposed to be a ‘romantic Parisian getaway’ for the two of them. Now it seems like they’ll be testing the limits of their acting ability. Bitterly, he thinks that Loki’s clearly a good enough actor that he shouldn’t have any trouble.

The bathroom door stays firmly shut for a long time, so Mobius the only thing he really he can. He unpacks the clothes that will wrinkle and puts them out to be pressed, pokes around the library for any interesting books—which he discovers must be mostly treated for show, given that they clearly haven’t been opened in quite a long time, and anyway are all in French—he even orders a bottle of champagne sent up, along with some fresh squeezed orange juice for good measure. After a while, when Loki still hasn’t emerged, Mobius hesitantly approaches and knocks softly.

“Loki? You ok?”

At first it doesn’t seem like there will be an answer, but there’s a soft curse, then the door flings open and Loki stares at him blankly. He’s wearing a bathrobe, and his hair is wet.

“Were you showering?” Mobius asks without thinking. It’s not really any of his business.

“I was in the bath,” Loki answers, his voice even. His face his carefully arranged, neither upset nor relaxed, but still, Mobius can’t help but feel like they took three steps backwards. “Did you want the shower?”

“Actually, yeah, if it’s not too much trouble. Planes, you know,” Mobius tries, offering a tentative smile.

“Right, of course,” Loki says with excessive politeness. “It’s all yours.”

“I ordered that champagne you wanted, by the way,” Mobius offers. “Orange juice too. Dunno if there was any other fancy stuff you wanted.”

That seems to take Loki by surprise. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier,” Mobius says in a rush, wanting to get it out before Loki can interrupt him again. “I was just— well, tired from all the travel, and I reacted poorly. You’re right, the bed is huge. And for what it’s worth, this isn’t difficult for me. I mean, spending time with you. I enjoy it.”

Those words have the curious property of being simultaneously entirely too honest and a massive lie, because this has in truth become incredibly difficult for him. Difficult not to give himself away. Difficult to reconcile what they do in public with their actual relationship. Difficult to keep from falling further and further in love with Loki every moment they spend together.

Loki’s expression softens, stuck somewhere between disbelief and relief before one corner of his mouth finally tugs upward. “That’s— well, that’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s the truth, Loki. You’re a great person.”

“That’s not a common opinion, I’m afraid,” Loki says dryly, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Well, they’re wrong,” Mobius insists. “They don’t really know you.”

“And you do?”

Mobius nods confidently. “I do now. And I know I’m lucky to be your… friend,” he finishes, just managing to avoid saying something absurd like boyfriend or partner. They’re friends now, that’s not a stretch to say.

For some reason Loki flinches at that, though, so subtly it’s almost invisible. Then he’s smiling quickly to cover it, falling into his usual teasing tone as he says, “You’re right, you are lucky, Mobius. Two days of basking in my glorious presence. How will you survive?” Barely, Mobius thinks, but he chuckles all the same. “Hey, you wanna go out after this? I’m famished, and we could see some sites?”

“Sure you want to?” Loki asks, his expression sobering a touch. “We could just order room service. I mean, if you want some time off from performing…”

Yup, Mobius is gonna regret saying that for a long time. He can’t explain that it’s easy for him to act like he’s Loki’s boyfriend. That he’s not actually pretending when he ends up giving him smitten looks from across a cafe table. (Mobius has seen the paparazzi photos in the tabloids. Photographic proof of how utterly gone he is, which is all fine because that’s what they want the world to see. People don’t realize that Mobius isn’t that good of an actor. Not this time, anyway.)

Instead, he says, too honest once again, “No, I want to. Do you come to Paris a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Then show me your favorite places, ok?”

“All right,” Loki says, slowly smiling again. A genuine smile this time, pleased, like no one’s ever asked him for something like that before. “It’s a date.”

It is a date, so much a date that Mobius has to remind himself frequently that it’s not real. They eat crêpes at a café, their legs tangling together under the table, then Loki drags him off to obscure museums and tiny yet stunning churches. They stroll through the Tuileries hand-in-hand as Loki eats gelato despite the cold, and Loki leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth as they sit by the Seine. (The thrill Mobius gets at that is severely tempered by the fact that he can see the paparazzi photographing them from across the river. It’s just a photo op. It’s always a photo op.)

It’s dark outside by the time Loki leads him to the catacombs, which Mobius is pretty sure are actually closed. Not that that makes much of a difference when you’re as famous and filthy rich as Loki. What it means, though, is that they have the place to themselves, which is actually pretty creepy considering they’re surrounded by row upon row of stacked human bones.

“Of course this would be one of your favorite places,” Mobius laughs.

Loki scoffs in obviously put-upon offense, pressing one elegant hand to his chest. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How often do you come here?”

“Every time I’m in the city,” Loki admits, grinning at him.

He’d walked a bit ahead, but now he comes back to stand by Mobius’s side as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling near where they’d entered. Mobius is so distracted by their surroundings that he doesn’t notice Loki reaching out until a hand slips into his, linking their fingers together. His head snaps to the side in surprise, but Loki is looking resolutely away.

“There’s no one here, you know,” he ventures, because apparently he can’t let himself have nice things.

“I know,” Loki says. He flashes a quick smile Mobius’s way before turning back to their surroundings. His fingers loosen a bit, as if giving Mobius the chance to pull away, which is of course the last thing Mobius wants to do. He tightens his own grip, and thinks he sees Loki’s lips quirk into a smile before he starts tugging him down a corridor.

Loki talks animatedly as they walk, telling stories about the catacombs that may or may not be factual, but Mobius finds that he doesn’t really care. He spends more time looking at Loki, anyway, at the way that the warm light reflects off the walls and illuminates the cut of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips. Maybe parts of this aren’t real. Maybe Loki isn’t really his, not in the way he wants, but Mobius wasn’t lying when he said he was lucky to call him a friend, and he decides then that he’s going to enjoy the time he does get, no matter how much it hurts in the end.

~~~~~

Torino Film Festival, December

Mobius doesn’t walk the red carpet in Torino; his flight is due to get in late, and Loki is busy with a press event for his movie anyway. He’s due to meet Loki later for some exclusive party, but in the mean time he has work to do; his agent managed to score him a dinner meeting with a director he’s always admired but never dreamed he’d get to work with, and who’s got a new, hush-hush movie entering pre-production soon. He refuses to get his hopes up, but the meeting goes really well, even if it does take an unexpected turn near the end.

“I hear you’re involved with Loki Odinson now,” the director says conversationally.

“Yeah,” Mobius confirms, a little uncomfortably. He’s never sure what to say when people start asking about his personal life, and it’s even more awkward now. “Do you know him?”

“Oh, yes. He was supposed to be in one of my movies a couple of years ago.”

“What happened?”

The director gives him an inscrutable look. “The official reason was scheduling,” he says after a moment. “But we couldn’t insure him.”

Shit, Mobius should have known. A ‘couple of years ago’ was when Loki started sliding off the rails: partying endlessly, walking off sets, publicly picking fights with his golden-boy actor brother. Loki generally doesn’t talk about it, so he knows very little but what was in the press, which is probably half bullshit and anyway definitely not the whole story. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, how much he should know, but in the end he doesn’t really need to say anything.

“You seem good for him,” the director continues. “I always did think he just needed someone to really believe in him. I’m glad he found that.”

“Er, thanks,” Mobius manages, his throat abruptly tight. “I don’t think I have a lot to do with it, though.”

“Come now, Mobius. Don’t you know you’re in the film industry? Never sell yourself short,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

Mobius is still pondering his words while he’s waiting near the entrance to the party for Loki to arrive so they can go in together. He’s running late, of course, so Mobius ends up so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice Loki’s approach until the other man is nearly in front of him. When he does, though, his mouth nearly drops open. Loki is wearing what amounts to little more than minuscule black hot pants with a sheer body suit over them, the gossamer fabric spotted with green crystals and black lace that resolves somewhat into snakes and foliage as he gets closer. Very few people could pull something like that off, but Loki is absolutely one of them.

Now Mobius understands the emerald green jacket and black silk shirt Loki had sent him to wear. They actually look like they belong together, complementary but not too matchy-matchy, though Loki still outshines him by several megawatts. Loki smirks at his no doubt stunned expression, reaching up to unbutton several the shirt almost halfway down his chest, then drags his hands down Mobius’s front and leans in close to his ear.

“It’s a party, Mobius,” he murmurs before Mobius can object. “Live a little.”

They’re extensively photographed standing in front of some kind of wall made of dense shrubbery before finally they can go inside. There, at least, there won’t be any press or paparazzi, though still plenty of eyes on them. It should be relatively low pressure, and it is at first; they chat with the other guests, and though Loki knows more people than him, he does run into someone he did a movie with years ago and who he has a nice time catching up with. But then, as the night gets later, Loki insists on dragging him onto the dance floor. Mobius doesn’t dance. It’s just not in his makeup, but there’s no saying no to Loki. That’s what he tells himself, instead of admitting that he’s a complete pushover where this man is concerned.

Mobius does his best to try to move to the beat, which makes Loki laugh at him and grab his hips in an attempt to get him to swing them, or something. It’s definitely not going to work. What’s worse, though, is when Loki gives up and just starts grinding against him. Christ, Mobius doesn’t know where to put his hands, and he knows this isn’t supposed to be a big deal but it’s a lot to have Loki pressed against him like this, and if he keeps it up things are going to get really uncomfortable really fast—

“Need some air,” Mobius gasps, wrenching himself away and stumbling off the dance floor.

He has no idea where he’s going, but he finds an exit into some kind of enclosed courtyard. There are a few people scattered around, mostly smoking, but they pay him no attention as he hurries past them and finds a relatively secluded alcove behind a bush to collapse into. It’s quiet outside and no one disturbs him, which is why he jumps a mile when a hand lands on his shoulder a short time later.

“Mobius?” Loki asks, staring at him in concern. “Are you ok?”

“Oh yeah, fine and dandy,” he lies with an admittedly weak smile. “Just got a little tight in there, is all.”

“We can leave, if you want.”

“Only if you’re ready. I don’t want to cut your night short.”

Loki sighs, and leans against the wall next to him. “These things are never quite as fun when you’re sober.” He shivers almost violently in the winter chill, crossing his arms over his front, which does precisely nothing when you’re wearing as little as he is.

Mobius doesn’t really think, just says, “c’mere,” and pulls him into his arms, wrapping him up against the cold, and Loki tucks himself against him. It’s like New York all over again, except there aren’t a hundred cameras and screaming fans around them. Just them. Just Loki’s face, so close to his. Without planning to, he reaches up and presses a thumb to the side of Loki’s lower lip, and it still feels warm against his finger but he wonders if it would be cold against his mouth.

“Mobius,” Loki whispers.

He doesn’t know which of them moves first, or maybe they both move at once, but those lips are on his again, and it’s nothing like the brief, press-approved pecks that they’ve shared before. Loki tips his head and slots their mouths firmly together, parting his lips, licking past his teeth almost tentatively at first and then with more confidence when their tongues tangle together. They kiss and they kiss until Mobius’s lungs are burning, but he doesn’t dare pull away, doesn’t dare to break the spell. Then Loki shifts in his arms, and the press of their bodies together draws a low groan from his throat that finally makes Loki withdraw. Mobius is prepared for regret, or excuses, or an attempt to laugh it off—anything but how dark his eyes are when they meet Mobius’s.

“We should go,” Loki says, and the low, rough tone of his voice reaches all the way into Mobius’s gut and tugs.

It’s a miracle that they make it back to the right limo, and no sooner has Mobius settled into the back than Loki is climbing directly into his lap. There’s a broad, mischievous grin on his face before he ducks down to kiss a path along the edge of Mobius’s jaw and onward to work a spot below his ear in a way that Mobius is almost certain is going to leave a mark. Christ, it doesn’t matter, though, because it’s so damned good. His hands slide up Loki’s thighs over the lace bodysuit until his thumbs hit the crease of his hips, and when he digs his fingers into the sides of his ass Loki moans and his hips grind forward against the rapidly tightening region of Mobius’s pants.

“You want me,” Loki murmurs near his ear, punctuating it with a little nip to the taut muscle of his neck before he sits back with a teasing smile.

“Of course I do, you absolute demon,” Mobius groans. “Look at you.” He plucks at the lace. “This isn’t clothes. I swear you’ve been trying to drive me insane.”

“Is it working?” Loki asks, bending down close to the side of his face again.

“What do you think?” Mobius growls, then captures his mouth in another bruising kiss.

Getting up to the hotel room is a fucking trial, mostly because Loki refuses to detach himself from Mobius. Thank god there’s a discreet, private entrance to the hotel and an elevator that takes them nearly directly up to their suite. Somehow Loki manages to shed the bodysuit almost instantly—Mobius doesn’t even understand how it was fastened—leaving him in just the skin-tight booty shorts, and Mobius short-circuits briefly at the sight of all that bare skin. Then there’s the way his half-hard cock is straining against the fabric, which sends a jolt of white-hot desire surging deep into Mobius’s gut. Loki turns and walks toward the bedroom, swinging his hips in a way that should be illegal, and by the time Mobius manages to scramble after him he finds Loki perched on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his hands.

“Come here,” he says, his voice nearly a purr, and Mobius’s feet obey before he even registers the request.

He stands between Loki’s spread legs as the other man looks up at him through long eyelashes thick with mascara, and feels like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he murmurs, letting his fingers trail lightly across Loki’s cheek. It seems impossible, but there’s no mistaking the hungry look Loki is giving him.

“Why not?” Loki asks, one perfect eyebrow arcing upward. “You want me. I want you. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

Right. It doesn’t have to mean anything, he might have well said. Which is true. It doesn’t have to. It can just be two people finding pleasure in each other’s company. Friends with benefits are a thing. Not a thing that Mobius has ever done, but a thing nonetheless. Loki is offering everything he wanted (not everything), everything he never thought he’d get (not even close).

Why not, indeed?

After all, it’s simple enough to lean down to kiss him in answer, to let Loki’s nimble fingers efficiently divest him of his shirt and trousers. It’s simple to lose himself in the eager slide of hands and the slick heat of Loki’s mouth; so very simple to push him backward into the bed and take him apart with mouth and fingers until he’s begging, to press inside him and surrender to the pleasure that floods through his body and overwhelms all of his senses.

What’s not simple is how he feels afterward, when Loki sprawls sleepily across his chest and tangles their legs together under the covers. When they spend all night like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms. When, the next morning, Loki acts like absolutely nothing has changed, like he hasn’t just completely upended Mobius’s life.

Mobius lays in the bed for a while, just watching as Loki blithely prattles on about their schedule for the day while he rifles through his wardrobe, and then he knows: it’s going to be fucking complicated.

~~~~~

Hollywood, California, New Year’s Eve

Mobius doesn’t know what he was expecting after Loki texts him and tells him to come over early before the party, that he should bring his suit and get ready at his place, but it wasn’t for Loki to drag him inside by the collar and press him against the wall by the door. Certainly he wasn’t expecting to be kissed breathless, or for Loki to lean in close and whisper, “Will you fuck me before we go tonight?”

They’ve slept with each other a few times since Italy. Usually after one of their scheduled appearances—which Loki now fills with suggestive innuendos and hidden, risqué touches because apparently his new goal in life is to make Mobius’s life as difficult as possible—but once Loki showed up at his house in L.A. in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a silk robe and a wicked grin. Sex with Loki is frequently playful and teasing, sometimes tender (Mobius tries not to think to hard about those moments), always mind-blowing, but it’s never been like this. Desperate. He doesn’t know what to do with that, but he also doesn’t know how to say no to Loki, so he nods and lets himself be dragged off toward the bedroom.

For someone who’s main goal seemed to be sex, Loki is surprisingly fully dressed in black slacks and a plain white button-down, as if his unexpected request was a last minute decision. He allows Mobius the handful of seconds it takes him to hang up his suit for tonight on an empty hook in the closet before he pounces, pulling him into another bruising kiss as his hands drop to Mobius’s belt. It’s overwhelming, frankly, but not so overwhelming that he doesn’t feel Loki’s hands tremble as they fumble with the buckle, and that yanks him firmly out of the hazy, lust-fueled fantasy.

“Hey, hold on a second,” Mobius says as he traps Loki’s hands with his own. “What’s going on with you?”

Loki actually whines in frustration, trying ineffectually to tug out of Mobius’s grip before fixing him with a scathing glare. “Nothing. I’m fine,” he growls. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Actually, no. Not if you don’t tell me what’s gotten into you,” Mobius tells him flatly, punctuating it with an unimpressed look that makes him turn his face away. “This isn’t like you, Loki.”

“How would you know what’s like me?” Loki snaps, finally yanking his hands out of Mobius’s grasp and storming across the room. “A few months and you’re an expert now?”

“I think I know you pretty well, yeah,” Mobius counters, “and I know when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Loki hisses in a way that does nothing to sell that assertion. “I’m just tense about tonight and need something to take the edge off. If you’re not interested, I’m sure I can find someone else.”

Mobius can’t quite suppress a wince, but he summons what mettle he can and stares defiantly back at Loki. “Sorry, not buying it.”

The look Loki gives him is pure ice. “You think I can’t? That I couldn’t call up any number of people and have them here at a snap of my fingers?”

“Oh no, I believe that part,” Mobius says with a humorless chuckle and an utterly mirthless smile. He makes himself stroll casually over to where Loki stands, getting into his space again. “I’m sure you could get just about anyone. I don’t think you will, though, because you won’t violate the agreement.”

The agreement—worked out between Loki’s people and Mobius’s people, and which they had precisely no say over—specified that neither of them would sleep with other people for the duration, no matter how discreet they thought they could be, because the potential for a leak was just too great. For Mobius, it certainly wasn’t going to be a problem. He didn’t fool himself that it would be the same for Loki. After Torino he’d written the sex off as a fluke, a moment of madness on Loki’s part perhaps, but when it kept happening he figured that the only reason Loki was sleeping with him now was because he couldn’t have anyone else. It made more sense than the alternative, that Loki actually wants him, of all people.

Loki stares at him for a long moment, his eyes dipping to Mobius’s lips in a way that seems almost involuntarily before he drags them back up again. When he speaks again his voice is so low it’s nearly a murmur. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

“Because I know you, Loki,” Mobius answers, just as quietly. “Maybe you are tense about tonight, but that’s not all of it. So I’m gonna ask again: what’s going on?”

Another beat. Loki looks off across the room, biting his lower lip so fiercely Mobius thinks he’s going to draw blood, and when he finally turns back he looks… shattered. “Tonight’s your final obligation,” he says, his voice unsteady. “Must be a relief.”

“…What?”

He swallows and sniffs, tipping his chin up in a weak pantomime of indifference. “No more performing. You won’t have to pretend any longer.”

Mobius can’t help it: he laughs. He doesn’t mean to, especially since Loki’s clearly upset about this in some way that he can’t quite figure out, but the whole thing is just absurd.

Predictably, Loki looks taken aback at this response. “What’s so funny?”

“Loki, I haven’t been pretending for months,” Mobius sighs. At this point, it seems silly to hold anything back. He might as well know. “I’m in love with you. So if you think tonight is going to be a relief, well. You couldn’t be more wrong.”

In all the ways he might have pictured Loki reacting to such news, he never expected him to look utterly baffled. “But…” Loki trails off, searching Mobius’s face; for what, Mobius doesn’t know. “You can’t be.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can,” Mobius says, smiling a little miserably. Loki’s just staring with his mouth hanging open, so he forges on. “Look, I know you didn’t want things to be complicated, and this is the exact opposite. I never wanted to put you in this position—”

The rest of whatever he was going to say is cut off when Loki kisses him again, and there’s some desperation in it, sure, but not in the same way. Not even close. Loki’s hands are holding either side of his face, long fingers digging into his hair, his kisses slow, deep, and utterly all-encompassing. Mobius has never been kissed like this, with such focus and care, with such pure emotion poured into it and leaking out with every gasped breath. Even when Loki finally breaks the kiss he presses their foreheads together, like he can’t bear any further space between them.

“Please, complicate it,” he breathes into the narrow gap, shifting his head slightly so their noses brush together.

“Does that mean…?” Mobius trails off, because it kinda feels like a stupid question, but still. He’d like to be sure.

Loki pulls back so he can look him in the eye as he says, “I’m in love with you, Mobius. I just never thought…” He glances down and gives his head a little shake. “You’re one of the few genuinely good people in this business, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

“Hey, no. None of that,” Mobius says, cupping a hand around Loki’s cheek and urging his face upward again. “I won’t have you talking badly about the person I love,” he teases gently.

“Mobius,” Loki groans as he rolls his eyes.

“You are good, Loki,” Mobius insists, his expression sobering. “You are.”

He honestly expects more arguing, but Loki just looks off across the room, the corners of his eyebrows thoughtfully quirking upward in the middle. “I wanted it to be real,” he says quietly. “But the further things went, the more I convinced myself it never could be. That you’d never… never really feel that way about me. Even now, I feel as if this is some kind of fever dream. I’m going to wake up tomorrow and you’ll be gone.”

“I won’t be,” Mobius promises, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. “Is that what this was all about? One last hurrah before the end?”

“Something like that,” Loki admits wryly. Perfect white teeth dig into his lower lip as he slowly drags it through them. “I wanted it to be hard and rough. I wanted to feel you for days afterward.”

“Jesus Loki,” Mobius huffs, gaping at him in disbelief. He swallows hard, unsure of how to respond to that. “And now? What do you want?”

Loki lifts a hand to Mobius’s face, dragging a finger lightly along his hairline and down to the crest of his cheekbone. “Just you,” he murmurs. “In whatever way you’ll have me.”

How about that? It turns out that it is simple, after all.

#lokius #loki x mobius #mobius x loki #loki laufeyson #mobius m. mobius #loki tv #loki series #loki fanfic #lokius fanfic #lokius fic #time husbands #wowki #my fic #1 million words challenge

[just-before-dawn]

just a lil small statement from me :)

i know that the zine and the people involved has caused uproar within the fandom. i wanted to ignore it as best as i could, but because of me wanting to live my life in peace (as i already have enough on my plate), some people call it me being naive and idiotic.

im going to say this again (as i have done so many times already but people keep needing to be reminded), my zine is on a neutral standpoint. if people think of it in a certain "discourse" position, then please change your thinking. im so tired of having to overexplain and defend the entire purpose of this zine constantly, again and again. some people still don't understand.

ive been involved with this fandom since december 2022 when i made my first post. i decided to make this zine because there was nothing else out there and i thought it would be fun. i have experience in outsourcing and finding manufacturers, i also know the process and the ins and outs of being in a zine. that's why i decided to make one for this fandom. dont let this zine be the ONLY zine in this fandom, i myself plan to make more after this one (coughcoughtuggoffeleeszinecough) and if someone else wants to start one, please do!

i truly love this goddamn musical about singing and dancing cats. this zine is for the purpose of celebrating this musical through art and writing. this musical has had a horrible reputation amongst society, why not turn that around?

in my own words and actions, i chose the people in this zine based off of what they have submitted in their applications, both moderators and contributors. i dont have time to do a deep dive internet check to see what problems a person has caused in a fandom. i work two jobs, im currently also packing 300 kickstarter orders, and im running this zine at the same time. i honestly do not have time to look into the drama that happened in this fandom unless if someone brings it up to me personally and they give me proof. i have explained myself time and time again that i do not absolutely give a single fuck about what side a person stands on. i do not care what a person enjoys or likes on the internet, i have my own business to attend to and other people have theirs.

if im so busy, why am i running this? because i want to and it gives me joy knowing that something great is coming into fruition!

please note that ive gotten anon hate from both a "proshipper" and an "anti", if that doesn't already explain the true neutrality of me and my zine, i dont know what does. im sorry that the results of who was picked and chosen for this zine gave out the supposed wrong reputation. im sorry that i didnt work hard enough to spend time (that i dont have) to do an fbi check on everyone to find out that they've done a certain action in this fandom. i cant make anyone happy with how this zine goes, i can only do so much. i had no idea that fandom discourse was going to be the main problem with running the zine. i thought it would be something bigger like finance. but this discourse does not define the zine.

im so tired of reading things said behind my back, assuming things about me, without actually confronting me about it. my dms are always open for anyone to talk to me about things. my asks are always open too.

the zine and myself have zero people blocked because i dont have time for that. guest contributors were chosen because multiple people requested them, moderators were chosen by me without any bias because i liked what i saw in their applications, contributors were chosen by all of us mods (there are FIVE of us, nothing more) as a collective group. my process with choosing was specifically on work, i dont choose people by bias. im not that kind of person. i also have already talked to my mods about interacting with the apparent discourse surrounding this zine. they will not interact with any posts outside of the people involved. any actions they have made already are not condoned by me and i couldnt say something about it earlier because i was at work.

so please, if a person has a problem with me and my zine, confront ME about. do not bother anyone else.

again, if my zine happened to make someone assume that its "proship" or "anti", then please think twice. this zine is a celebration of this musical and fan content. i dont fucking have a stance. stop assuming shit about me behind my back, im so tired of having to explain this to people. the people involved might and i have no clue because yet again, i dont do fucking deep dives on people unless if someone actually mentions and brings it up to me. but just because i choose to enjoy my time in a fandom without any drama doesnt make me naive and stupid.

it is a person's decision whether or not they want to support this zine. but please do not spread hate. tell me about it and i will take action. thank you.

again, my dms and asks are open. i have zero people blocked on here and the zine's acc. i cannot say the same for anyone else involved. the zine's acc on tumblr and insta are only run by me, nobody else.

#im sorry about this again #i literally hate talking about this but it had to be said #because im tired of it truthfully #idk whos gonna read it but please take my words into consideration

[wraith-of-christmas-future]

“This is one of those moments where I tell you something isn’t a good idea and you ignore me, isn’t it?“ The teen lifted her eyebrow, head canting slightly as her arms folded against her chest. Her body rested against the Wraith's driver side door, her way of keeping him from escaping this conversation. She knew that he was going to see Vic McQueen again and she hated that he was. McQueen had once more stolen her father's attentions from where they should be: on her and the reconstruction of Christmasland. She honestly didn't think that she could loathe that woman even more than she originally had, but apparently her little black heart was capable of even more than she'd assumed.

There had been a spring in his step that quickly faltered upon her intrusive reprimand collating under the inquisitiveness. It collectively drew him to a complete stale when hues met her, thwarting the amble stride once he had registered her blockade against the driver side panel. An antipathy which brew a smirk to bloom, taught and expressively aligned with disappointment.

" Ignore ? " A partial cant in his gaze, curiously rebuked. " An interesting choice of words. I could never ignore you, Sugar plum. Your demur is simply unwarranted -- all is well , I assure you. " Despite the confidence composing each word an habitual strain manifested within it's undertow. Tearing fragments from the far fetched truth which mitigated cohesion. His frown burrowed though, sloping into a deeper dilute as he took his steps moderately for his daughter. " Victoria McQueen is but a shadow of her former self. Quite the harmless little mouse, you see. Without her, child.. I would not be here. "

A cold reminder to her as it had been to himself. Issued into this false premise of being in full control over this woman in question. That his infatuation over her had not been as strangling, though worse , the denial was a capable chain that Charles Talent Manx often noosed himself with. A digit took adrift below her chin, curled gingerly into yielding her gaze to him whilst it had invoked the touch he needed from her, starving element of reassurance sought from their connection.

" You're a big girl now, you can fathom how important her presence is. The children need her. " He needs her. @daughterchristmas

#Verse : Our Whims and Woes #Sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ Rᴇsᴜʀʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ● Rυιɳʂ σϝ Cԋɾιʂƚɱαʂʅαɳԃ

[superpodsaga]

Tinykin's best addition to the collect-a-thon genre is its plentiful Pollen

Tinykin is a game about collecting things. Players explore a truly gigantic house in search of the titular Tinykin, balls of pollen, and household items that can be turned into some sort of space ship.

While discovering different species of Tinykin and creating the space ship rightfully take up most of the players focus, the collectible pollen actually serve as the bedrock that makes Tinykin such a joy to play.

Each room of the house contains upwards of 1000 glowing golden balls of pollen. Everywhere you look in every direction is pollen. There's pollen on the floor, pollen on the appliances, pollen floating strategically in the air. Pollen. Is. Everywhere. You literally can't go anywhere in the house without picking up pollen.

While it is absolutely possible to collect every piece of pollen in a room, and you can continuously upgrade your bubble glider by collecting a moderate number of them, the true purpose of the pollen is GUIDANCE. With the player being the size of a bug and normal household objects the size of buildings, it could be easy to get disoriented, uncertain of where you've been, or unsure of where you can still explore.

But that's where the pollen comes in!

With pollen covering almost every surface, the player has an easy and constant reminder of where they have and haven't been. Anywhere the player sees pollen is a place where they haven't yet explored.

Not sure where to explore next? Follow some pollen. Need some more Tinykin for a puzzle? Follow the pollen. See some pollen in the distance? Go touch that pollen!

For completionists, the pollen is a godsend. Where other games have you navigate large landscapes on your own, leaving plenty of opportunities to accidentally miss areas, Tinykin's pollen breadcrumbs guide you to every nook and cranny. It's unbelievably satisfying.

Tinykin's pollen has genuinely made exploration in other games less fun for me. If that's not the sign of a brilliant mechanic, I don't know what is.

#tinykin #collectathon #collectibles #platformer #xbox #game pass

[read-watch-listen-17]

RHAPSODIC (THE BARGAINER SERIES 1)

SPOILERS

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Wow, that’s one way to start a book. 😳

“That is one dead man” 🤣 then he goes on to say he’s not quite dead and it reminds me of The Princess Bride. 🤣🤣🤣❤️❤️❤️

Awww he doesn’t deal with minors. Good to know he has at least one line he won’t cross. Awww and then he does it for her anyway.

I get the feeling he knows something about her. Besides the fact that she’s part Siren.

322 unpaid favors! 😳😳😳 What the hell did she ask him for?!

“One day I won’t give you a choice.” Oooooo, ominous, foreshadowing. I like it. I also get the feeling that he won’t give her a choice because he already knows what he needs her for.

🤣 traded a bead for sobriety. I mean if she drinks in moderation I bet she’d be fine.

🤣 see, he even admitted it himself.

Okay, if she hadn’t already dumped Eli’s ass this is where I’d be screaming for her to do it. Awww he rescued her.🥰

Interesting. Okay, so she’s asked him for 322 favors, but he can pick and choose how many beads a favor costs and how many beads he cashes in for what he asks her to do. So my question right now is, did he choose to give her a bead for every little thing he did for her on purpose so he had a lot to cash in later on? Because she even mentions that he normally doesn’t let anyone get more than like 3 or 4 and she has an obscene amount more than that. Did he have an alternative motive for allowing her to collect so many beads?

It sounds like they hung out a lot during her first year at the academy, haven’t quite gotten to when things ended, but she wracked up her 322 beads in a year if I’m understanding so far. And now after 7 years he’s back to collect, and I get the feeling the first few were just to warm up and that the big ask, at least one is going to be to help him solve what’s happening in his kingdom.

The past makes me feel like she had a crush on him, obvious she even admits it, but it also seems like he enjoys being around her. I’m wondering why.

“Who do I have to hurt?” Awwww 🥰🥰🥰, he’s gonna bust someone’s balls for hurting her

Awwww he comforted her AND he went after the guy who abused her. 

WHAT DID THE PIXIE SAY?!?!?! I NEED TO KNOW!!! Wait…they perched on the crown of her head. Is that hinting that the pixies asked if she was going to be his queen?!

Also does he call her cherub because she was a minor the first time they met? I can’t think of another explanation. At least not yet.

Thief of Souls, sounds ominous, but would explain the catatonic like state of the babies and women. At least I think it would. Only afraid of Des, but only because he’s not unstoppable yet. 🤔🤔🤔

Well that wasn’t at all creepy. So, the children are all connected. The Thief of Souls now wants Callie, and somehow she’s been taken to him? Not sure yet.

Awww he didn’t want her to stop fighting 🥰🥰❤️❤️

Okay so it was just her mind that went to the Thief of Souls. Guy with antlers is a clue for Des? Also he seems very, like VERY protective, maybe possessive of her right now. Which gets me thinking about other books I’ve read where the male acts like that when the girl is his mate. So I’m thinking they’re this worlds version of mates. I’m super glad that he reigned in his anger to make the wise decision to take her home instead of forcing her to stay.

Do Sirens have feathers? The only ones I’ve ever heard about were always in the water and feathers wouldn’t make sense. So what’s with the feathers? Unless there’s something else to her, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s something even she doesn’t know since she doesn’t know who her father is.

Also Des mentions she’s been under his protection for a very long time. So even after he left her she was under his protection? He cares SOOOO MUCH!

Okay so somehow they have a deeper connection if he can sense her nightmare. Or maybe it’s because he’s the King of night and that includes dreams/nightmares. 🤔🤔🤔

Ummm, is this hundred-thou client Temper is talking about, possibly the Thief of Souls trying to get to Callie???

OH. MY. GOD. He’s too much. I don’t think I can take any more adorableness from him. He felt like his soul was ripped in two 😭😭😭, and the 7 years were a nightmare. Then the thing he has always wanted to do with her is finish the Harry Potter movies! 🥰🥰🥰 He calls her love. This whole scene just makes my heart giddy. ❤️🥰❤️🥰❤️🥰❤️

Not me imagining later on when Des will make that oath to Callie and make her his queen. 🥰🥰

Well that wasn’t creepy or anything 😅😅😳😳

Awwww he kept sketching her, wait no go back, ignore the knocking, keep looking at the sketches, nooooooo ❤️

Awww he asked her to take him to the ball 🥰🥰

How the hell did Eli find her?

Okay I don’t hate him as much now.

What’s with the nod and the staring at the wings and the I didn’t know the situation? WHAT SITUATION? WHAT DIDN’T HE KNOW?

OH. MY. GOD! How are they betrothed? Like when did that happen? 

OH, OH DAMN. Not betrothed, soul mates. Does that count as me being right? And is it soul mates from his side or from both sides? Is that why she’s so comfortable with him even though he’s “scary”?

So, did he know eight years ago when he started hanging out with her that she was his soul mate? Is that WHY he did it? Because he admits that he couldn’t stay away. Why did he look horrified and in wonder after she said the binding thing? Does that have anything to do with the soul mates part?

Well, damn. If she hadn’t made that final wish maybe they would’ve gotten together sooner. Her wish and his magic kept them apart for 7 years as payment for the wish to come true even though they were already soulmates, and he knew it the whole damn time, but he didn’t want to force her. Where have I heard that before?

And just as everything is right in love land the other shoe drops. Is he the Thief of Souls or just the guy trying to get her to work for him? Des is gonna be so pissed when he finds out she’s be napped. That guy’s gonna be in big trouble.

“Fuckity fuck” Funny, that’s exactly what I was thinking. The King of Fauna is behind all of this? Really? I guess he is mad.

He is the Thief of Souls. He’s gross. I’m curious to find out why his magic either isn’t working on Callie or working differently on her

Holy shit! She’s got claws, scales, and wings now?!

YAY!! Des found her!!

Well shit. He aint gonna be in the next book.

The other women didn’t wake up. Interesting. Does that mean that the King of Fauna was only a henchman and that the big bad is still out there?

More importantly why did it take Des so long to find her? She literally had a nightmare of the antler guy who I’m assuming Des knew was the King of Fauna so why was that not the first place he went to find her? 🤔🤔🤔

Anyway on to book 2!

#the bargainer series #rhapsodic #book 1 #laura thalassa #callypso #callie #the bargainer #desmond #des #road to 100 #july reads 2022 #45/100 #thief of souls

[malusdraco]

February wrap-up

got this silly lil idea in my head to do a newsletter style post where i talk about what i've been up to each month, i think it's probably a great idea to remind me that i DO do things.

So, February

It started off pretty slow if I recall. I'd pulled 3 moderately sized commissions in January and was looking to keep the speed up (spoiler alert: that didn't happen)

(this guy, og design by mykalablue on DA, got some love early on, still no name though)

First things first I pulled together all my commission info (graphics, galleries, etc) into one Commissions toyhouse page that way I'll have a pretty easy visual record of what I can do, and what i've charged for things. It also allowed me to start a pinglist for future commissions (which I'll probably make use of shortly)

At that point I was struck with An Idea. I thought this was an excellent idea but also simultaneously knew with my luck nothing would pan out. Fortune favors the bold, however, and I concocted a scheme.

I got inspired by stitchy-face/peripendrake, who did some TCG themed badges at one point, and VintageBeef's Hermitcraft TCG and decided, wouldn't it be fun to do some of my own? They'd be collectable, people could share them, keep some with them and give them out at cons, each one would have a number, that sort of thing.

Simultaneously, I'd gotten this idea in my head that perhaps people would like adoptables from me that were both highly rendered, and came with extra art. deluxe if you will.

So according to my plan:

Put a lot of hours into fully rendering this adoptable design

create a companion piece (seen on the above comm sheet) to go on a trading card which could be sold With the design.

pull together a solid lineup of Choices people could make when they wanted a trading card so that I could launch both at the same time

run a raffle for cross-promotion between the adopt and the commissions, with an emphasis on entries that shared the link.

It took a long time to get all the card designs sorted. a lot of thought and planning went into the graphic design parts and just the color choices, but once everything was ready, I set it up to go. Advertised on Toyhouse, linked to it on twitter, and even put it on DA for people to see.

(in the meantime, my friend RedDiamondVespa was working on this guy's design for me which reignited my brainworms, meet: Narcisse)

The results? I'm calling it a mixed success. No bids on the adopt. No comms, but 15 entrants into the giveaway. Am I a little mad that all that work I put in resulted in nothing but free work? Undoubtedly. Alas, I remind myself that this was in fact an experiment, and that I am terrible at promoting myself AND graphic design.

I did stream once in February and had a pretty good time. The result was some symmetry adoptables I definitely need to make an advertisement for but also good times with friends.

at the end of the day, I managed to get 3 cards done, one of my own oc, one of an adoptable that might never leave me, and one of one of the raffle winners (the other is a WIP since these things take an inordinate amount of time to make)

I think that's probably enough to wrap up. I was not able to meet my early goal of $200 from commissions this past month, but I'm not gonna waste time sulking about it.

#newsletter #digital artist #alas the life of a working adult #long post

[the-letter-horror-lover]

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Boruto and the Big Bad Wolf by Kaname84

Anime » Boruto: Naruto Next Generations Rated: M, English, Romance & Fantasy, Words: 7k+, Favs: 5, Follows: 3, Published: Feb 26, 2020

1

Disclaimer: We do not own Boruto or it's characters.

Chapter One- Boruto

I got down from my horse and opened the small hatch that had the old bell inside. It was a small and ancient thing, but it rang loud and clear when I pulled it. There was no doubt in my mind it was enchanted by the elderly lady that lived here especially considering she was a witch. A few moments later, the large doors opened by themselves and I quickly led Hana inside. She shook her head before trotting along, her cream colored coat shining under the limited sunlight that peeked through the trees.

I let her go graze once the doors closed behind us and I headed inside the moderately small building. The air around me was filled with magic, I could feel it and it only got stronger the further I went. The shelves were stacked with different kinds of goods, some of which made noises as I made my way around to the front desk. The witch that owned the shop sat behind the counter with her white hair pulled in a tight bun. She smiled at me and beckoned me closer, her long fingernails tapping on the wooden surface.

"It's nice to see you again, dear." She greeted and I gave her a smile of my own.

"Hello, granny. How are you doing?" I asked, feeling comfortable enough in the place known as grandma's house. While we weren't related by blood, everyone called her granny. It was something she insisted on and those who were smart didn't protested.

"I'm doing just fine. You're my first customer today." She informed and tapped her nails again. "How about a discount?"

I removed the hot pink hood of my cloak and chuckled. "But you already give me a discount."

The old woman clicked her tongue. "A bigger one then. You are one of my favorites, Boruto. Always so kind . . . and quick on your feet." She added with a mischievous smirk. "Wise beyond your years."

"Most of that is thanks to you." I reminded and she laughed, the sound light and airy.

"So I did, so I did. You never waste the chance to flatter an old crow like me." She said fondly. "Onto business, dear. What can I do for you?"

I pulled the list of items from my pocket and handed it over to her. "Most of it is medicine, I'm afraid a good number of the villagers have gotten sick."

She hummed as she looked it over, eyes flashing purple when she met my gaze. "Interesting indeed . . . there are quite a few remedies requested, but the symptoms for this particular string of illnesses strokes my intuition."

"What are you thinking, granny?" Her intuition was always spot on and I wasn't foolish enough to brush off her words.

"Check your water supply." She ordered. "If you find any brown circles that look like dirt, cover the area in this." She said and with a wave of her finder a green pouch floated over. "Free of charge. As for the medicine, I can narrow it down to a couple that will work just as well. Perhaps better."

"Thank you." I said with a bow of my head, blond bangs falling in my face.

"So polite." She mused and stood. "I'll have everything you need ready in a few minutes, Boruto. Make yourself at home. There are some cookies near my rocking chair, you know where."

I thanked her again as she went into the back to collect everything I needed. I wondered what exactly was in the green pouch she had given me, but I knew better than to ask. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss. I went over to her rocking chair and had a handful of the small chocolate cookies. It was crazy really, how relaxed I could be here. The people who visited were slim and it was almost never the same person twice. The witch had a playful side that killed many brave souls and those that tried to outsmart her paid the price.

None of them knew the rules. If she gave you advice, you took it. She never asked about important matters, she told you. Asking was fine in light conversation. However, if she gave you an option in the form of a yes and no question you always said no. The old lady was fair, but she would trick you if you weren't careful. You could trust her on some things and on others you couldn't. It was as simple as that and if you didn't learn to tell the difference, well . . . a number of things could befall you.

It was a dangerous job yet critical for many villages. It was near impossible to survive in this world without any magical influence and wizards were too rare to hope for. Trading with some kind of mythical creature was a norm even if the risk of death was high. No one else in my village would dare to travel to grandma's house, the destination just as threatening as the trip. In this case I listened more than I talked and that's what gave me an advantage. That and the fact the ancient woman had taken a liking to me, more often than not she would teach me the secrets of the woods. She had even made me the pink cloak I scarcely took off, the fabric embedded with her magic.

It saved my life more times than I could count, protecting me in ways I didn't fully understand. I was grateful for it and knew she would do nearly anything for me if I asked, but she would still try to trick me from time to time to keep me on my feet. She was certainly a crafty thing.

"Here you are, dear." The witch called and I came back around to find her seated at the counter.

The items were wrapped tightly and set in a basket, the list poking out from the side. "How much do I owe you, granny?" I asked and took out the money the chef had given me. I didn't try to hide how much I had, knowing she would over charge me on purpose if I did.

"A third of that, nothing more, nothing less." She said and I smiled. That truly was one hell of a discount.

"You're the best." I said and she laughed again, waving her hand in the air after she took the payment.

"Now now, I couldn't possibly give you another discount." She teased before adding, "Unless you really desired one. Would you like another discount?"

"No thank you, granny."

Her eyes flickered purple again in approval. "That's my boy. Greed will lead to one's destruction. Off you go, can't have you traveling after sunset. The creatures of the night will be upon us."

I nodded and picked up the basket. "Until next time." I said and pulled my hood back up.

Hana was waiting for me outside and I was quick to mount the young horse. My usual companion had gotten too old to make the trip and I didn't want to push his limits. Hana was a bit more skittish than he was, but she ran almost as fast as the wind blew. It was an important quality for this journey and I didn't really have the option to be picky. All the big and strong horses were either left for the farmers or taken by the hunters. My village was lucky in the sense that a wizard had lived among us a very long time ago, his spell still alive and well while it acted as a barrier to the forest. It was old and small mythical creatures made their way in from time to time, but it kept out the dangerous ones.

There was always that fear of the spell wearing off and breaking down. However, it wouldn't be until another few decades or so. We were safe for now. The large doors opened up for me and I pushed my heels against Hana's sides to que her to go. The trail was a long one and I couldn't have her going full speed the whole way. If I didn't pace her, we would be vulnerable in case of an attack. I had run into my fair share of creatures, most of them preferring to curse me with magic. My cloak kept me from harm in that regard, but physical assaults were a different story. Thus my need for a dagger. I kept it close at all times and was lethal in my own right, but I wasn't stupid. I was only human and here were a great number of beasts that could overpower me.

I was about halfway home when a could hear the sounds of branches breaking to my left. I had Hana run a bit faster in hopes of avoiding attention, but whatever it was started to follow. I urged her on faster and the sounds of breaking wood grew fainter. We just had to outrun it. I didn't push her too much out of caution and even though it was a valid decision, it bit me in the ass. The sound of a heavy tree falling close by rumbled against the ground and causing Hana to suddenly buck. I hadn't been holding on as tight to the reins as I should have, my hand more concerned with the dagger at my waist. I was thrown off of her back and hit the ground hard. I was better than this, or at least I thought I was. My head was the first thing to collide with the unsympathetic earth and I wasn't able to keep a grip on consciousness as I blacked out.

The first thing I processed when I slowly came to was that my head hurt. A lot. The second thing was that it was really cold, extremely so. I blinked my eyes open and was met with darkness. For a moment I feared I was out in the open on the path, fully exposed to the creatures of the night. My heart skipped a beat at the thought, but as my eyes adjusted and I looked around, realizing that wasn't the case. I was inside a . . . a cave of some sorts. I felt along the wall in front of me, easing my way into a sitting position. No, not a cave . . . the wall was too smooth and so was the ground. It was more like some kind of dungeon, though that was my dramatic side coming through. It couldn't really be a dungeon, could it? I looked around some more and from what I was able to see it was completely bare.

My belongings and horse were nowhere in sight and I pulled my cloak tighter around me. A sad attempt for comfort and a barrier against the temperature. What was I going to do now? I had no idea how I'd gotten here and thinking of a reason only gave way to more concern and slight panic. Just who . . . or what had dragged me here . . . and for what purpose? A low growl sounded as if in answer and I barely had time to react before a pair of eyes appeared, their color as dark as the place I found myself in. I could feel my pulse quicken as the eyes came closer and I shuffled backwards on instinct. I could only go so far, the wall soon hitting my back. Its shape grew clearer each step it took and within moments I was face to face with a wolf.

It wasn't a normal wolf, not by a long shot. It was a large beast. A king of the canines and I feared the worst. My cloak wouldn't be of any use and there was no way I could fight it off in these conditions, if I stood a chance in the first place. None of that would stop me from trying though. My hand inched towards my dagger as I held the wolf's gaze. I would have one shot at this at the most, I had to make it count.

"You can't hurt me with that. I am not going to hurt you. So calm down."

The deep voice seemed to sound in my head, as if they were my own thoughts. It was definitely a first for me, but for the most part I was used to the unexpected. Perhaps anyone else in my position would have called the wolf on his lie or attacked. It was a logical thing to do, but not the smartest. If this creature wanted to kill me he would have done it already. He wanted something from me and I had to figure out what in order to use that as a bargaining chip. Otherwise, I was completely at his mercy. I removed my hand and let it fall to my side. I willed my heart to slow down so I could focus, but there was still an underlying fear with the large animal close enough to rip my throat in an instant.

"You brought me here." I assumed, proud my voice didn't falter. "How does that benefit you?" It was important to ask the right questions, but I didn't want to be too direct and get brushed off.

The wolf came even closer, causing me to flinch even though I tried to remain calm. I closed my eyes tightly, anticipating something dreadful, but what I got instead was a cold wet nose on my neck. He was sniffing me.

"Your scent . . . It's intoxicating."

I couldn't suppress a shiver at his warm breath and his words left me confused. Intoxicating as in tempting? Appetizing? It was hard to figure him out. A wolf wouldn't have much use for me other than food, what else could a human give him? I held still as he continued to smell me and only opened my eyes when he pulled back.

The large wolf laid down in front of me, resting his head in my lap. "Do you see this thing around my neck?"

I was taken aback by the tame gesture, but I knew a beast like him could never be tamed.

"Yes." I answered simply, gaze peering over to it briefly. It was a seemingly black collar, hanging comfortably around his neck. It was strange to say the least and I couldn't imagine who put it there or the significance it held. "A collar . . ." Perhaps he needed me to take if off of him?

"I knew you were the one." He said with a sigh, nose pressing against my crotch as he inhaled deeply.

A squeak left my lips and before I could think better of it I pushed his nose away. "W-what are you doing?!"

He nudged my hand to the side and then licked my wrist. "Just getting to know you."

I barely held back a huff at that, but once I thought about it, it made sense in a way. Dogs were always smelling each other in inappropriate places and he was a much larger and more vicious version of one . . . kind of. I still didn't know what to make of him, but I supposed he was being civil in a sense compared to the other creatures I had run into in the past. The lick was oddly friendly, but then again he could be having a taste of what was to come.

"You want to get to know me." I repeated and decided to keep my hands at my chest, gripping my hot pink cloak. "Is that . . . a way of playing with your food?" I asked directly. Despite myself, I couldn't let that worry sit and fester. I needed to know.

"I don't play with my food." He said simply. "I need your help. You're the only one who can help me . . . Boruto."

My voice blatantly faltered at my name, shocked and even more confused. "Y . . . y-you . . . how do you know my name?" I asked, taking this one question at a time. The whole situation was startling to say the least and one of the weirdest I had been apart of.

"I know everything about you. Even more than you know about yourself." He told me with a confidence that was baffling. "That's beside the point. Right now, I just need you to take this damn collar off of me."

So my suspicion was true. He was more than just a beast if what he was saying was true, not many creatures could know something as personal as a name upon first meeting and certainly not 'everything' as he claimed. I didn't know what I was getting into and a part of me thought the collar was some kind of curse. Whether it was put there for a valid reason or not, I wouldn't know. But I did know one thing for sure, I had my bargaining chip.

"I request you let me leave unharmed in exchange." I said firmly. Demanding would get me nowhere, but I had to make it clear I wouldn't fall for any tricks either.

"I will never bring you any harm." He said, voice full of promise. His words were sincere.

"Alright . . ." I trailed and slowly moved my hands, making sure he could see every movement.

I reached for his collar and felt around for the buckle. A part of me noticed how soft his fur was and for a second I even wondered the color, but I had a task to complete. When I found the bit of metal I unfastened it gently. It slipped off with ease after that and I was left holding it in my hands.

The wolf shuddered and made a strange, quiet sound and my lips parted in amazement as I watched his body shift before my eyes. It couldn't be . . . I never dreamed I would come across one in person. This wolf . . . he was a werewolf. I didn't know a lot about them, but I knew enough to recognize what was happening. He was turning into a man, a human. All I could do was stare dumbly at his transformation. Perhaps I wasn't as used to the unexpected as I believed. His fur was replaced by skin and toned muscle, long arms and legs settling into a kneeling position. His hair was styled short on the sides and long on top, just as black as his eyes had been. That wasn't the case now, his eyes taking on a lighter color I couldn't quite make out. His snout morphed into a nose and his handsome features caught me off guard.

I hadn't seen anything like it and in a way it was . . . beautiful. He looked at me silently as I took him in, my gaze working its way down from his face. He was still big even for a human, though not nearly as huge as before. He was packed with as much muscle as one of our warriors, if not more so and it only clicked when I got to his groin that he was naked. I quickly averted my blue eyes and felt my face heat up. Sure we were both men, at least for the moment, but that was not something I should be looking at. It was private and more personal than I was ready to get.

"H-here." I stuttered and held out his collar, closed fist bumping against his firm chest.

"No." He rasped out loud, backing away from me as if I'd scalded him. "Keep it away from me."

I retracted my hand, remembering that it was probably a curse. "Do you want me to get rid of it?" I asked, feeling concern and sympathy for the werewolf even if it wasn't the wisest thing to do.

"Do with it what you will, as long as you keep it away from me." He said so quietly before laying back on the cold floor and stretching his limbs with a pained groan.

I wasn't sure what I would do with it yet, but I would keep it away from him nonetheless since he had been kind enough not to eat me. He had in fact given me his word he wouldn't harm me at all and that was strange all by itself. Time wasn't on my side at the moment though, I had to get out of the woods. I didn't know if it was night or even the next morning. Hell, I didn't know if Hana was alright or what happened to the basket I had been carrying along with the small green pouch. I was still where I started aside from a little less likely to die before I made it back home. I wrapped the collar around my belt and stood, the pain in my head not as bad as before but enough for me to lean against the wall for balance.

"How do I get out of here?" I asked the werewolf, already worrying about what my next steps would be. I was easy prey without a horse.

Slowly, he got to his feet and then closed the distance between us. "First you should heal that wound."

"I can't, I have to find my horse." I explained. "The medicine . . . my village . . ." I said mostly to myself. There wasn't anyone else who could make the journey but me.

"I have your things. Though I can't say much for the horse." He muttered the last bit and reached towards me, grabbing the dagger and pulling it to himself, flipping it around with a speed and skill that had my eyes widening. "You shouldn't be so afraid." He told me, taking my hand and pricking my finger with the sharp tip of the blade. Then he moved my hand to the back of my head. "Come on now, say the words."

My mouth spoke on its own before my brain could catch up, foreign words falling from my lips so fast that I couldn't remember them. I felt a slight tingle on the back of my head all at once the pain was gone. With a gasp, I pulled myself from his grip and backed away along the smooth wall. What the hell was that?

"What did you do to me?" I asked, cradling my hand to my chest.

"I only helped you tap into your power, something you should have learned about long ago." He mumbled and held the dagger out to me. "You're strong. You should act like it."

I took offense to the comment. "Not everyone flaunts their strength." I huffed and took the blade, putting it back in its rightful place. I wasn't sure what power he was going on about, but if he wasn't an immediate threat then I wasn't going to dance around him any longer than I had to. "You said you had my things? Where?"

"You really are clueless." He appeared almost disappointed as he turned his back to me and started walking away. "Follow me."

I made my way through the darkness and trailed silently behind him. We traveled up some stairs towards light and I had to admit I missed it. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust, stopping once we entered a cave. Lanterns stood along the sides of the rocky walls and I was frustrated to learn that it was in fact night time. Going out now was begging for trouble . . .

The werewolf had gone off to the side and returned with my things, the basket and pouch still intact and seemingly undamaged. "Thank you." I said as I took them from him.

My gaze quickly moved back to the entrance of the cave, wondering if I should chance it. I feared for Hana and knew the only hope she had of surviving was if she went straight back to the village. However, that still left me with a hard position.

"The horse is dead. Don't bother yourself brooding over it. She had a quick death."

I looked back at the werewolf, heart clenching. She was a good girl . . . and I should have taken better care of her. "I see . . . wher-" I cleared my throat. "Where is the trail from here? Do you know?"

"Of course I do. I'll get you back to your village."

I wasn't sure I could trust him with the location of it, but he hadn't proved to be a liar so far. Besides, it wasn't as if he could enter the village anyway.

"Very well." I agreed, knowing it was the best chance I had considering the situation. "I appreciate it."

"Yes. Because you have no other means of making it back alive. I'm not willing to let you die anyway."

His body shifted back into his wolf form and I was reminded how dangerous he was despite his odd desire not to hurt me. He really was quite the sight and size, my mind taking note that his fur was light grey. I was surprised to see him padding over to me, watching him suspiciously until he started rubbing against me.

"What are you doing?" I asked curiously as he continued, coming close to knocking me over. "Hey!" I chuckled, a light hearted feeling washing over me.

He hummed and crouched down next to me. "Get on." He ordered softly.

I hesitated and looked into his black eyes. "Really?" Surely something like that was disrespectful, I couldn't possibly.

"Don't you need to get that medicine back as quickly as you can?"

"I do." I confirmed and steeled myself.

I stepped closer and grabbed onto his fur, noticing again how soft it was and also mindful not to pull too hard. I raised myself up and swung my leg over him with a grunt. He stood tall and I held on at the movement, realizing very quickly that this wasn't like riding a horse. Not at all. The wolf walked out of the cave and sniffed a few times before he went into the woods.

My grip tightened when he began picking up speed and I had to press my face down in his fur due to the harsh wind. It blew my hood off of my head and went to town on my hair, whipping it every which way. I kept the basket and pouch as secure as I could with my eyes unable to stay open. I wasn't able to see and a part of me didn't want to, but I had to admit it was pretty fun. I had never gone at this speed and a few gleeful giggles escaped me when he jumped. I felt like a little kid and didn't get the chance to worry about what else was out roaming the woods.

The wolf hadn't asked for directions and we reached my village a lot faster than I thought we would. I was able to sit up once he slowed down and opened my eyes to see the tall walls that surrounded my home. He got close, but not too close to the gate to let me down. I was breathing a little harder than normal, adrenaline running through me after riding him. I came around to his head and took a chance.

"Thank you." I told him and reached out to touch his snout. I pushed my hand up between his eyes and to his head in a long pet. If it was disrespectful I didn't know, but he seemed to like it, so I did it one more time.

My hand pulled back quickly though when his body started changing, in a matter of seconds his human form was towering over me. "I'm starving. Feed me."

I blinked at him, the request random and a little worrisome. "Okay." I said slowly, supposing he wanted it as payment. "Do you like beef?"

"I smell something good in there." He murmured, eyes gazing at the gate longingly.

"I'll bring it to you then." I offered. "Wait here."

"No. I'm coming." He said quickly, eyes looking down at me.

He was . . . serious. "That isn't a good idea and I don't think it's possible. There's a barrier protecting our village, it could kill you." And the thought of it strangely made me sad.

"It can't harm me. Not now that I belong to you."

"H-huh?" Him? Belong to me? What?!

"There is no sense in questioning something that's been destined since antiquity." He told me. "Only you could free me and because you did, I'm yours."

Fuck me, what did I get myself into? I understood what he was saying, but I couldn't believe it. He wanted to stay with me . . . claiming I owned him. It was a lot to take in and I had no idea why he chose me, why I was able to free him from the collar. I was missing pieces of the story, but now wasn't the most opportune moment to be asking.

Though there was a smaller problem in regards to his . . . condition. "You're naked." I pointed out, not that it needed to be. "I can't just sneak you in there even if you could get past the barrier . . . I can't keep you."

"You'd let your own pet starve?" He questioned me sadly, giving me a round of big puppy eyes that pulled at my heartstrings.

Was this really a werewolf? Of course it was, but he was so . . . so . . .

"Alright, I understand." I caved, his actions making me notice his eyes were colored as a silver-grey in this form.

I was insane to go along with him. It was a miracle I was still breathing after everything that had happened, but he hadn't given me a reason not to trust him. Other than that, no beast with ill intent willingly went inside a village at a humans mercy, much less in a more vulnerable state. I took off my cloak and held it up in front of him. It wasn't long enough to cover what it needed to and I opted to wrap it around his waist instead.

"That will have to do for the time being." I sighed and wondered if I could pull this off. "Stay close to me, okay?"

"You don't need to worry about that." He grinned then, looking excited.

It caused an odd fluttering in my chest, but I put it aside in favor of thinking up a plan. I walked up to the gate with the werewolf close behind me. I opened the small hatch and pushed the button inside, a large flag coming down above the gate to alert the guards. They should have seen us coming, but in some regards the barrier gave way to laziness in the ranks. It was honestly shameful. One of the guards called out for me to identify myself and after I did the gate was opened. I held my breath as we walked through, hoping that the wolf was correct and he wouldn't get hurt. That same breath rushed out of me when the gates closed and the werewolf was unharmed.

"Boruto!" A familiar voice shouted and I turned my head to see Metal jogging over. "God, we thought you were dead. What the hell man, turning up at this time of night? Not that I'm not glad to see you." His gaze went over to the werewolf and I was quick to put it back on me.

"I got the medicine." I said and handed the basket over to him. "Take it to the chief so it can be distributed."

He nodded, giving me a grateful look. "You pulled through . . . but you always do, don't you?" He mused. "Your friend there, who's he? And why . . . is he wearing your cloak?"

I moved further in front of the wolf, almost protectively. "Metal, focus. That medicine is the most important thing right now. As for this guy . . . I wouldn't have made it back without him, that's all you need to know. Get going, no time to waste."

"Right." He said and glanced one more time at the werewolf before he was off.

My opinion changed about the night time and I was thankful for it. Less people were awake and it was easier to sneak around. I motioned for the wolf to follow me and led him through the backways to my house, praying we didn't run into anyone else. I closed my front door behind us with a loud thud and once again told myself how crazy I was for doing this, but so far so good. After I locked the door, I turned my attention to the very much wild animal I had brought home.

First things first. "Clothes." I said curtly. "Then food. Do you think you can hold out a little longer?"

He quickly shedded the cloak around his waist before looking back at me. "I'm ready."

I'm not, I thought and went to my bedroom. I put the cursed collar in my dresser and I searched my closet for clothes big enough to fit him. I handed them over when I found some, not missing the look on his face. Closing the door behind me, I left the room so he could get dressed. I realized afterwards that he might not know how to wear human clothes and almost went back in to help, but thought better of it. He would figure it out. I went into the kitchen next to cook and I was fairly hungry myself. I only got as far as prepping when I heard my bedroom door open.

"It's too hot in here." The werewolf said once he was in the kitchen and I turned to find him just as bare as I'd left him.

"I'll turn the air on." I said and went over to him. "I gave you those clothes to wear . . . did you need help?"

"Air?" He tilted his head curiously as if he didn't understand but then shook it off and walked closer to me. "I don't like those clothes. I'm hot."

I stepped around him into the hall, turning the temperature down until I heard a click. "Once it cools down, put on those clothes." I said, insisting. "Please."

"Alright." He agreed easily, though I didn't miss the way he pouted about it.

It was strange alright, his behavior . . . but it wasn't bad. "Thank you."

I focused on dinner and tried not to let his presence distract me. I let it stew for a bit as I walked back into the living room to pick up my cloak, hanging it up. There was no need for me to put it in the washer, granny was thoughtful like that and I wondered if she enchanted her own clothes to spell themselves clean. The food didn't take too long to finish, but I didn't make our plates just yet. The werewolf had seemed to cool down and was still pointingly bared. He did say he didn't like clothes, but I couldn't let him walk around in the nude.

"You said you would get dressed, remember?"

With his lips turning downward, he got up from where he was sitting on the floor and looked around worriedly. "Do I really have to?"

He made it look like I was being cruel. "Well . . ." It shocked me that I was even considering it. Just one day and I was letting him walk all over me, it was hard to say no. "You do . . . outside of the house."

His whole face lit up and he came over to me, pulling me into a hug and rubbing his cheek against mine. I froze, but figured it was a wolf thing. He was turning out to be very . . . affectionate.

"L-let's eat." I said, not sure why my voice cracked as I patted him on the back.

"Yes. The food smells almost as good as you." He hummed, nose running from the bottom to the top of my neck, sniffing me all the way. "So good."

This was just . . . "Wolfy," I said in lack of a name, "I have to-to make our plates."

"Plates?" He leaned back to gaze down at me in wonder. "I thought you were making food."

I stared at him before breaking out into a grin. "I am, but I need to put the food on the plates." I explained.

"Why?" He asked as he pulled me into the kitchen without releasing me.

"That's just how I eat, how humans eat." I said, careful not to trip. "Since you're in human form it might be easier for you to do it too, but I'm not certain about that."

He didn't seem used to his human form or rather, he just wasn't used to the human world. It made me wonder if that was normal or if he was under that curse for a long time.

"I don't care as long as I eat." He said though he still wasn't letting me go.

"Regardless, I have to make our plates." I repeated. "You have to release me, wolfy."

"Oh." He sounded saddened by this but did as I said, dropping his arms to his sides immediately.

It was hard to wrap my mind around him and the situation I found myself in. He was like nothing I had come into contact with before. And he said he belongs to me. A pet werewolf, I couldn't even imagine. Yet here I am and he is, it doesn't get anymore real than that. I loaded two plates with food and then set them on the table. I told the werewolf to have a seat and fixed us a glass of water as well, grabbing napkins and silverware after. I sat down only to find the seat across from me empty and as well as the plate. A short look around and I spotted the wolf kneeling by the table, apparently all done. I was going to correct him, but stopped myself. Whatever was going on here I wasn't about to force him to be someone he wasn't.

"You don't have to be on the floor." I said to be clear that he wasn't expected to. "But if you're more comfortable like that, I won't stop you. Within reason." I couldn't have him hurting himself . . . and he seemed more helpless by the minute.

"What's wrong with the floor?" He asked, always seeming to have a question. I didn't have a chance to answer him, too distracted by the way he crawled over to me. He pressed his nose to my knee and inhaled deeply. "This whole place smells like you." He breathed and then started gliding his face up my leg.

Truly more wolf than human. "Is it . . . overwhelming?" I wasn't sure how strong his sense of smell was.

"Intense." He admitted, face still down on my leg.

"I see . . ."

Perhaps I was wrong before. Looking at him now, he was almost tame. The change was drastic. I tried not to make things awkward and began running my fingers through his hair, telling myself I wouldn't find it weird if he didn't. I determined he was affection starved judging from how he acted and I didn't really mind. Strangely enough, I was handling everything pretty well.

"Do you always wear so many clothes?" He asked, finally lifting his head a bit to peer up at me.

It was an innocent question all things considered, but my face tinted red all the same. "Yes. It depends on the weather outside, but for the most part it's about the same."

"But we're inside." He said, blinking at me.

For heaven's sake. "We are, but I wear them inside too. Practically all the time humans wear clothes."

"How unfortunate." He sighed and started smelling me again, moving further up until his nose was at my side.

I couldn't smell that good, in fact I probably stunk. "You don't get worn out? Smelling me this much?"

"Why would I?" He asked, voice having dropped to a lower tone. "You smell so good. My mouth is watering."

Whoa. "You should go take a look around the house." I suggested with a pat to his head. "I'll be done eating in a bit."

He took another deep breath through his nose before pulling away and sitting flat on his behind. "I'll wait here."

He wasn't making this easy, not at all. But it wasn't as if I could be cross with him for it. I let him do as he pleased while I finished eating, trying not to feel bad that he was still on the floor. I put everything in the sink when I was finished and was starting to feel how tired I was. I told the werewolf to make himself comfortable and take that look around the house before I made a beeline for the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the shower. I put my clothes in the bin and got under the warm water, pulling the curtain closed after me. I washed quickly and had just got done rinsing my hair when I heard the door open.

Barely a second later, the curtain was pulled back and I shrieked, hands moving to cover myself from the wolf's eyes as they trailed down my body slowly.

"You like water?" He asked, stepping in as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Oh. It's hot."

I was blushing furiously and turned my back to him. "You can't be in here right now." I told him, doing my best not to raise my voice. "Wait for me outside, I was just about to come out. Okay?" What the hell did I do to deserve this? It's too much. He's too much.

"I see." He said quietly before leaving the shower and then the bathroom quickly.

I waited until my heart calmed down and then turned off the water. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself, opening the door to peek into the hallway. I jumped when I spotted him on the floor right in front of the walkway. He was dripping wet and looked . . . depressed. I frowned as I realized I hurt his feelings. He was almost like a child, he didn't know human rules and behaviors. He was out of his comfort zone. I grabbed another towel and stepped over him, leading the way to my bedroom.

"Come with me?" I asked him and he followed silently.

We went inside and I had him stand in front of the bed, asking him to hold still as I started drying him. I did my best without getting too personal and had to get on my tippy toes to reach his head. Once I was satisfied, I dropped the towel over a chair.

"There." I said and watched his expression closely. "I'm not mad at you, wolfy. I was just surprised and a bit overwhelmed . . . I'm not upset."

"Yes you are. You said I was too much." He pouted and flopped down on the floor in front of me.

I hadn't thought I said it out loud, but it must have slipped. "I meant . . . well, too much for me to handle." I said, struggling to explain. It wasn't like he was stupid, human concepts were just foreign to him. "It was too much for me because no one has ever done that before so I was shocked. People usually take showers alone."

"Yes. I understand." He said softly before making a quick transformation to his wolf form and curling on the floor. He still looked sad as his eyes stared ahead at the wall.

I wasn't sure if he really got it and I was oddly enough caught off guard by how small he made the room look. I went to my closet to get some nightwear and dried off, looking over my shoulder every now and then to make sure he wasn't paying attention. I got dressed in a flash and made sure the lights were off around the house. Then I got into my needlessly huge bed and clicked the lamp off, unable to shake the uncomfortable feeling as I laid down. It took less than two minutes for me to give up and scoot to the edge of the bed.

"Hey wolfy?"

"What is it?"

"There's plenty of room up here."

A short whine sounded from him but nothing more, he didn't move.

I tried again. "You can join me, it's big enough. I think."

He got up after a few seconds and padded over to the bed, resting his head beside me, tail wagging. But he didn't make a move to get on the bed.

"Come on now, I'll get cold all by myself." I assured and it wasn't entirely a lie. I had turned the air up.

Apparently needing no more convincing, he hopped over me, settling on the bed beside me and nuzzling the back of my neck. I smiled and reached back to give him a few pets over his soft fur.

"You smell funny now." He commented after a while.

"I do?" I didn't have to think hard to figure out why. "It's probably my soap and shampoo. That's what I used to get clean."

"Your natural scent is much more appealing." He said with certainty.

I chuckled at that. "You're probably the only one who would think so. I didn't stink at all to you?"

"No. But I don't very much care for this soap." He muttered.

Another possible problem, but I would let him be tonight. Tomorrow . . . I had a lot of work to do. "We should get some sleep, wolfy." I yawned and didn't give it a second thought as I wiggled closer to him. "Goodnight."

"Rest well." He hummed, resting his snout in the crook of my neck, body completely relaxed.

Little did I know that this wolf could change my entire life and the world around me as I knew it. In the end, he would be all I had left to hold onto.

#boruto fanfiction