#*futile pawing at the screen*

[norcumii]

I finally saw Across the Spiderverse, and it's just been consistently gnawing on my brain (affectionate) since.

I wanna watch it like, 57 times in a row and analyze the fuck out of it. HNNNGNN.

[keydekyie]

The Grounded Sphinx

A young sphinx finds herself in a bit of a mess...

3321 words. Content warnings: foot-hold traps, very mild blood, off-screen violence.

▶──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──◀

The stark bang of a closing iron trap shook Ciph from her thoughts and sent her leaping into the air a split second too late. The fire of pain shot through her body like a lightning strike.

The foliage all around was suddenly too close, grabbing, tangling. Her paw was caught fast. Panic spurred her to beat her wings, frantic, and new pain coursed through her wing as her primary feathers caught around a thicket and tangled tight, wrenching her elbow and twisting the joints.

She was stuck.

Her heart was hammering, her body screaming, Fly! Fly, stupid! But the futility of that was growing more apparent by the second. She held herself still, trying to breathe through the panic. 

Well… shit.

As the initial shock began to wane, Ciph took a moment to absorb what had just happened.

An iron snapjaw trap had closed around her left forepaw, and the reflexive jump she’d taken had wrenched her arm as her wings opened. Now her right wing was hopelessly tangled in the foliage. 

This was why her mother had always warned her not to follow game trails, as tempting as the winding paths were. The forest was no place for a sphinx.

Little good that did her, Ciph had always thought, but here she was. Caught in a trap, just as her mother had feared.

This was bad.

Panic rose again, and before Ciph could quell it she struggled against the trap, thrashing and spinning and straining. It was no use, of course. After a moment she tired herself out and went still, crouching stiffly at the end of the trap’s chain and gasping for breath in the smashed-down grass.

It was late in the afternoon, likely late enough that the human who had set this trap wouldn’t be back to check it before dark. Where did that leave her? Well, if a pack of direroden didn’t come sniffing, perhaps by morning Ciph could find a way to get out of this mess.

She shut her eyes for a moment, bracing herself. She hadn’t yet been able to look at her paw, fearing what she’d see. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and peered down at it.

There wasn’t much blood, which surprised her. The jaws were clamped just below her wrist, and the iron teeth were gouging deep ruts into her flesh, but the teeth weren’t very sharp and most of the pain was coming from the pressure, not punctures. She reached over with her free paw and gave a tentative pull on one side of the trap, but it was shut tighter than a drake’s jaws.

She shifted, bringing a hind foot up to brace against the trap, and gave it a firmer tug, to no avail.

Well, the trap was anchored to the ground, perhaps she could untie it. She tried to limp over to the anchor, but her tangled wing kept her from reaching it. If she hadn’t panicked when the trap snapped shut, she could probably have dug the anchor out of the earth. 

She was going to have to pry open the trap.

Ciph huffed, set her ears determinedly, and tried again. And again. And again. The sun set, the sky darkened, and she kept tugging and pulling and moving about, trying to find the right leverage to pry the trap open. 

Finally, Ciph had to lay down and rest. Perhaps she wasn’t strong enough to brute-force her way out. She’d have to think it through.

The trap consisted of a pair of jaws, alongside two wing-like levers that had pushed the jaws closed. If she could compress the levers, the jaws would slide open. The problem was that she only had one free paw, and with her wing tangled up, she couldn’t bring her foot around to the right angle to step on the other lever. 

So… what now?

Ciph sighed, laying her head down on her arm. She had heard tales of creatures gnawing their own feet off to escape these traps, would she have to do the same? Her stomach turned, but something deep in the back of her mind twinged readily at the thought, and Ciph knew she would do it if she had to.

She prayed to the gods she wouldn’t have to.

Perhaps in the morning light she’d be able to think of something more clever.

By morning Ciph’s muscles were aching terribly. Panic had dulled the initial pain, but she’d yanked her arm very hard when the trap was first sprung, and her tangled wing wasn’t happy either. Everything felt sore, including her brain. There’d been no sleeping through the discomfort.

Still, there was work to be done.

Ciph took another look at the trap, hoping daylight would illuminate some little pin she could pull, or a screw she could twist. She fiddled with the levers, trying to find a way to squeeze down one and then the other, but that didn’t work. Her paw wasn’t strong enough, nor the weight of her body heavy enough, to compress them both at the same time.

Then she heard voices on the wind, and she looked up.

Humans.

The owners of the trap, most likely. There were two, both men, one short and scruffy and the other lanky and blond. They stood watching from the other side of the glade, whispering to each other and pointing. They had a sly manner about them, like zatels eyeing up a pheasant’s nest.

Ciph growled low in her throat, tail lashing. It had to be obvious to them she was trapped and helpless, but still they were slow to approach. Well, small as humans were, it was caution that likely kept them alive in this dangerous country.

Finally they made their way towards Ciph, steps crunching quietly in the spring grass. 

"No horns, see?” the short trapper said, gesturing to Ciph’s head. “Young, then."

The blond trapper glanced up at the sky warily. “That means the mother may be nearby.”

“We should hurry, then.”

“Can you speak?” the blond trapper asked Ciph.

Ciph swallowed back a hiss, steadying herself. “Yes,” she croaked.

The trappers frowned at each other. 

"Should we…?" the short trapper grumbled.

A chill wind shuddered the trees, and the blond trapper scratched his chin. “If it can walk on its own two feet, perhaps… but it’s going to struggle. Sphinx don’t take to being led. We’d need more men either way. It’s almost as big as one of our garjen.”

"We could go and come back…"

"And walk right into the mother's claws? I think not. We should take what we can and go quickly."

Take? Ciph wondered in horror, looking between the trapper’s faces. Take what?

The short trapper shrugged. "I'm just saying, I know a noble who'd pay more for a sphinx pelt than we make in a year."

"Too much trouble. If they'd pay for the pelt, they'll pay for… let's see…" the blond trapper looked Ciph over, as though appraising a hunk of meat. "The tail, the paws, some feathers certainly. Perhaps the wings entire, if we can conceal them."

Ciph’s fur prickled. 

“We could each carry one under our coats, I think,” the short trapper suggested. “At least until we get back to camp.”

“Well, best get started, then.” The blond trapper raised a crossbow from behind his back, leveling it right at Ciph’s face.

Ciph balked, eyes wide, but she couldn’t bring herself to beg, not to these creatures. Instead, she looked the trapper in his cold gray eyes, bared her fangs, and hissed.

He hesitated, swallowing, and suddenly his shorter companion gripped his arm to get his attention. 

“What? The mother?” the blond trapper whispered, cringing down and looking up at the sky, but that wasn’t where the danger was. 

The shorter trapper was looking behind, back across the glade. He whimpered.

Ciph followed his gaze, and almost laughed.

As if she didn’t have enough problems already.

Ciph had seen Kanai before, but always from on the wing or a high vantage point. She’d thought of them as sort of wingless, giant sphinx, and she attributed their bad tempers and grim senses of humor to being grounded like humans were. Who could blame them?

But she’d never been stuck on the ground with them before.

There were three, young, watching from the other side of the glade. They were all staring at the human trappers in the eager, predatory way hunters did when they’d spotted prey. The air itself seemed to still in response, a hush falling over the forest. 

The trappers clearly knew how doomed they were.

The blond one suddenly bolted, diving into the brush like a mink into water. His companion fretted aimlessly in dismay for a breath, looking about him as though anything in the vicinity could save him, then fled into the forest in another direction.

The Kanai all lunged forward, two after one trapper and one after the other, and vanished to either side, out of Ciph’s sight. She crouched down, hoping desperately that her spots had concealed her in the grass and none of them would come sniffing.

They’d all looked to be youngsters. Ciph’s mother had warned her the children were far more dangerous than adults.

For a few tense moments, Ciph lay there listening to the wind pick back up and rustle the leaves. Could she be so lucky?

But soon approaching footsteps rumbling in the earth told Ciph that staying concealed had been too much to hope for. She sat up, trying to quell her racing heart and settle her puffed-up feathers. She’d meet this with as much dignity as she could muster.

Being friendly with Kanai was said to be a good habit. They were reliable foresters, careful time-keepers, and often willing to share food in exchange for knowledge, especially of their own kin in distant territories. Ciph and her mother had attended many Kanai festivals and gatherings over the years, but always at a sensible distance.

Being friendly was a good habit, but so was staying well out of reach.

Unfortunately, there was no staying out of reach with one paw in a foot-hold trap and one wing tangled in a bush.

A fourth Kanai appeared in the glade. No less a child than the others, but her demeanor was different. Unlike the first three, this one seemed… tired? Miffed? Not so eager, anyway. She sighed heavily and stood up on her back legs to look around, peering over the trees for signs of the others. She sniffed the air, and then her eyes fell on Ciph.

The Kanai blinked curiously, tilted her head, and fell back onto all fours. The earth shook.

Ciph’s dignity went up in smoke as the Kanai loped forward, eyes bright. With each step closer the ground trembled.

Finally, as the Kanai came close, Ciph couldn’t stand it anymore. “Stay back!” she snarled, fur and feathers all standing on end.

The Kanai paused, raising a quizzical round eyebrow, and smirked. “Aren’t you stuck?”

“Of course not.”

“You look pretty stuck to me.”

Ciph’s tail lashed, rustling the dead grass.

“It’s alright,” said the Kanai. “I want to help you.”

Glaring silently, Ciph considered this. She thought of the trappers, and the other Kanai that had run after them. Would those Kanai be back to chase her next? Would they be as polite as this one if they found her still bound as she was?

“Fine,” Ciph grumbled. “Some help would be… appreciated.”

The Kanai smiled, bowing her head, then approached. She sniffed the ground, looking the trap over. “Ah, one of the snapping kinds. I see.”

The Kanai shuffled closer, looming over Ciph like a mountain. Panic again begged Ciph to beat her wings and fight with everything she had to escape, but through sheer force of will she managed to stay still. The Kanai lay down, which made her seem no less enormous, and reached for the trap with both hands.

“The trick is to pinch these side parts, see? It makes it open,” the Kanai said gently, pointing to the lever arms on each side of the trap.

Ciph watched the claws as they came closer. They put her own little thorns to shame.

“Here, I’ll pinch them,” said the Kanai, “you pull your hand out. Are you ready?”

Ciph couldn’t find her voice, but she nodded. 

The Kanai gripped the levers between her claws, careful not to shift the trap too much as she held it, then squeezed.

The jaws of the trap loosened, and Ciph pulled out her paw.

Fear, for a moment, drove the thought of her tangled wing from Ciph’s mind, and she thrashed backwards in an abrupt and undignified bid for freedom. 

“Whoa! Stop! Stop!” The Kanai sat up and grabbed the ensnaring tree to hold it steady. “You’re still stuck! Hold still!”

Every movement the Kanai made was more frightening than the last. Ciph snarled at her and scrambled madly for purchase, clawing up clumps of grass and beating her trapped wings against the grasping foliage.

Suddenly the Kanai let go of the tree and backed away, ears tucked. Ciph gasped for breath and collapsed in a disheveled pile of leaves and feathers.

Neither of them moved for a moment, and Ciph’s nose caught the sharp scent of fresh blood. She looked herself over, but nothing seemed any more damaged than it was before.

“Sorry,” the Kanai said quietly. “Are you alright?”

Ciph glared at her. The Kanai’s ears were still lowered, her eyes wide. She seemed nervous.

“Oh yes, I’m having a fabulous time. Thank you,” Ciph mumbled.

The Kanai grimaced and lowered her head. “Your wing is so tangled.”

“I noticed.”

“I can… I can help…”

Ciph snorted, then shifted to sit up. “I can manage, but thank you.” Twisting awkwardly, Ciph reached up to pull at her primary feathers. The tree branches were woven through them with all the durability of a reed basket, and none of the precision. What a mess.

Still, Ciph set her jaw and got to work, picking at the twisted branches and feathers. Her shoulder twinged at an errant motion, and she couldn’t hide the gasp of pain.

“Can I help? Please?” the Kanai begged, leaning forward. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Ciph paused, looking up into the Kanai’s black eyes, and noticed the smell of blood again. She glanced down at the Kanai’s nearby hand and cringed.

Well, her little thorns had found a mark. In all her earlier flailing, Ciph had caught the Kanai’s hand with her claws in a few places. The blood was barely visible in the nearly-black fur, but the sheen of it and the smell was unmistakable. 

Ciph sighed, shaking her head. “Fine, fine. You can help, just… be careful. I’ve only got two wings and I’d very much like to keep both.”

“Of course.”

The Kanai shuffled closer, reaching tentatively for Ciph’s trapped wing and the entangling branches. Ciph braced herself, expecting to be grabbed the way she’d seen trappers handle their quarry, but the Kanai did nothing of the sort.

Just one of the Kanai’s hands could have wrapped all the way around Ciph’s body, but the creature was very careful. She held the wing with remarkable gentleness, claws brushing delicately over the feathers. Almost too gentle, hesitant, as though afraid.

“This isn’t too bad,” the Kanai murmured, “it’s just that this blightvine is all wrapped up in the branches too. That’s why your feathers don’t want to just slide out.”

“Blightvine?”

“Yes, it’s this plant here.” The Kanai pulled on a strand and tugged it out of the mess, then held it out for Ciph to see. “It’s common in stands like this. It likes to tangle things. You wouldn’t have gotten stuck if it weren’t growing all over this birch tree.”

“I see…” Ciph couldn’t say she was altogether that interested in botany, but it was good to know for future reference. She’d commit the look of the shiny leaves and their planty scent to memory. 

The Kanai was making good progress on the wing, faster than Ciph would have guessed. Her long, sickle-shaped claws were making short work of the blightvine, and as she pulled the plants away the feathers were freed one by one.

“Your feathers are so pretty,” the Kanai murmured reverently, almost to herself.

Ciph frowned at her horrendously mangled wing. It looked like a dead animal. “Uh… thanks?”

“I mean, you know… the ones that aren’t messed up.”

“Sure.”

“A-actually, even the messed up ones…” The Kanai flushed and shifted awkwardly. “I mean, they’re all… nevermind. Sorry.”

Ciph smiled. What an earnest creature. “I’ll take the compliment. I’m sure I’ll be able to fix them anyway, with enough preening.”

The Kanai looked relieved at this. As she continued delicately extricating the tangled wing, she cocked her head, looking Ciph over again. “Aren’t you kind of small for a sphinx? How old are you?”

Ciph’s nose twitched. She wasn’t actually sure of that, anymore. Not since… well, not for a few years. “Old enough.”

“Old enough for what? Getting killed by poachers?”

“Apparently,” Ciph snorted.

“Well… I’d feel bad leaving you here by yourself. Do you have a family somewhere?”

Ciph sighed and rolled her head to the side. “Somewhere? Probably.”

The Kanai frowned, confused.

“I’ll be alright,” Ciph explained. “I’ve been on my own for awhile, now. I’m used to it.”

“But your wing…”

“It’s fine. It just needs some rest and grooming.”

“But this is the far edge of our territory, it’s not safe for you here. There are a lot of humans.”

“Two fewer now, I should think.”

“Yes, well…” The Kanai rolled her eyes. “Those poachers weren’t alone. You’d be safer further north.”

And with that, the Kanai pulled the last of the tangling branches out of Ciph’s wing. Ciph stumbled a few paces back and spent a moment flexing it, but it was very sore from being stuck and twisted all night. It didn’t want to fold nicely against her body the way it usually did, so she let it hang limply at her side. It looked quite pathetic.

“I can carry you a little ways north, if you want,” the Kanai offered, sitting back on her haunches. “There’s a mountain with a cave that’s hard to reach, you could rest there.”

“I know the one. I… I suppose I have no choice but to accept. But those other Kanai who came before you, do you know them?”

“They’re my brothers, yes. I don’t think they’ll bother you, but if they try to…” A fierce look came into the Kanai’s eyes for a moment, flashing like sun on the water. “I’ll be certain they regret it.”

Ciph chuckled and flicked her tail, equal parts appreciative and intimidated. “Do you think they…” she hesitated, searching for a more delicate word but finding none. “Do you think they ate those poachers?”

“Definitely. They’re probably off looking for the rest of the group now.”

“Oh.” Ciph sat back, surprised at the quick answer. She hadn’t thought Kanai would admit to such things so readily. “Good.”

The Kanai squinted at her, dubious.

“Do you eat a lot of humans?” Ciph asked.

“Me? No. My brothers do. I’ve lost count how many.”

“But you don’t?”

“Not really. It’s weird to eat things that can talk.”

Ciph scoffed. “‘Talk’ is a generous way to describe what humans do. ‘Scheme incessantly’ is more accurate.”

The Kanai chuckled at that.

“Anyway, thanks for the help, and apologies for being so reluctant to accept it. Oh, and also apologies for the, um… the scratches.”

“Oh that’s alright,” the Kanai laughed, looking down at her hand. “I don’t mind. I’m just happy I could help.”

“I’m called Ciph, by the way.”

“Good to meet you, Ciph.” The Kanai turned to smile down at her warmly. “My name is Sliuk.”

[vnyverse]

Her bright eyes were trained on the screen before her, and one would think her intense staring into the screen would translate into skills of some sort in the racing game she was playing, but what betrayed her expression was the large “insert credits to continue” that was displayed. This triggered the furrow of her brows while she turned to you and looked at what was left of all the tokens she had already wasted on the racing game. It wasn’t a waste though, looking at how she looked so intent on winning 500 tokens to exchange it for a teddy to impress you was endearing. Of course in the time she took to play her racing game, you had already won 500 tickets from other machines, unbeknownst to her. You weren’t her pick for nothing.

“The game must be rigged or something, let’s play something else.”

You didn’t know whether to coo at her adorable pout, or to poke fun at her downright horrendous driving skills in the moment as you caught her prolonged stare at the very claw machine next to her.

“Which one do you like?”

“Are you looking down on me? I’ll prove you wrong right now, just you watch!”

You didn’t look down on her, of course not. It’s just that love was a little strange at times, it makes you want to do so much for her you find yourself overbearing, but even then you could not distinguish whether or not she understood that you were not in fact looking down on her or teasing her, but it’s just you wanted to be the reason she smiles. So you simply rolled up her sleeves neatly, not missing the way she instinctively looked at her feet, and you swear you saw a smile on her face, but you waved it off as wishful thinking as she could’ve just been excited for the claw machine game. Taking a seat beside her, you just watched as her many futile attempts to catch the akita plushie.

“It’s all your fault for being so distracting! I didn’t manage to catch any, and I was so close!”

“As much as I would take all the blame for all the little misfortunes that happen, this is simply a skill problem shiro.”

“You…. You did not just!”

Throwing little punches at your arm, her little fit was one to behold. Dimples on full display, sweater paws cushioning her so called “punches”, while she adorably glared at you. You chuckled at her antics, while zipping up her jacket.

“Let me show you how it’s done.” Putting your hand over hers, you guided her hand onto the joystick, and confidently pressed onto the red button beside, winning her the plush she’s been wanting. Thank the gods she didn’t see the sure win button light up, you thought to yourself, as she’d unknowingly spent so many tokens on the game it had reached sure win.

Needless to say, mashiro was a blushing mess when her members teased her for posting a picture of her with a hug akita plush on Kepler’s instagram, and you were one content girlfriend.

A/n: @writers-ex finally found my account, go show her some love y’all she’s the reason why I started this blog to write. Hope you enjoyed it though I’m not familiar with Kepler. I’m internally cringing now that @writers-ex has found my account and is probably going to see this. Adios :)

[warriorsseverance]

WARRIORS: SEVERANCE CHAPTER 3

ao3 link

Sunlight filtered through the foliage screen of the apprentice’s den, dappling Stagpaw’s pelt with an array of colors. He’d been awake for a little while, but he was reluctant to get out of his nest. It was past sunrise, he could tell just by the amount of cats loitering around the camp clearing. Redrabbit would be returning from the dawn patrol soon, and Stagpaw found no point in trying to go back to sleep if he were to just get jolted awake the moment he fell asleep.

Most of the apprentices were already gone. The only one in the den was Bisonpaw, the massive, yet young, tomcat. He was the son of one of the most respected warriors in the entire clan, Oakscratch, yet held a far more gentle and unthreatening demeanor, nothing like his father’s take-no-shit attitude. 

Bisonpaw was the only cat Stagpaw could really call his friend. They got along for being misfits, for Bisonpaw could never make his father proud of him and Stagpaw could never make anyone but his fathers proud of him. Bisonpaw’s mother had passed away shortly after his birth, as had his sibling, and Oakscratch had never particularly recovered. He seemed to rule over his son with an iron paw, desperate to keep him strong enough to survive yet never quite understanding how to do so in a way that didn’t make his son hate him. 

Both tomcats were strong-willed, in their own ways. Even Stagpaw could see that. They had the same brown pelts and wide shoulders, yet one was kind and the other fierce. Oakscratch would never allow the one thing that Bisonpaw truly wanted- To become a medicine cat, for his father saw the profession as below what his son should be doing.

Oakscratch mentored one of the two littermates who also shared the apprentices den- Beechpaw. Beechpaw was reckless and rowdy, and often picked on Stagpaw and Bisonpaw, furthering their beliefs of being the outsiders in their own clan.

Despite that, Stagpaw longed to earn the friendship, or respect of Beechpaw. 

Beechpaw had a sister, Adderpaw. She was a fiery young she-cat, and every bit as fierce as her brother, but she wasn't as mean. She mostly kept to herself, focused on training, but she didn't make any remarks about Stagpaw's heritage. 

Stagpaw hoped that some day all the clan would learn to like him, but he had learned by now not to get his hopes too high.

Shifting in his nest, Stagpaw tucked his tail over his nose and kept his eyes closed. Maybe that would trick his mind into thinking he was asleep, so he wasn't as tired. 

However, his attempts were futile, for moments later the cheery voice of his mentor broke out from beyond the lichen screenage. 

“Ah, Stagpaw! Ye’ awake yet? Your da’ sen’t me out on the dawn patrol! Without ye’! But I'm ‘ere to take ye’ out and teach ye’ a thing or two!” Redrabbit's distinct voice was chipper, and he burst through the foliage. He had always spoken a little funny, but when he was an apprentice, he'd recklessly attempted to track down a fox and had lost his tail as well as a tooth. He'd gotten his warrior name for it.

His boisterous tone had already woken Bisonpaw up, who lifted his head, only to see it was Redrabbit, and lowered it back down. Stagpaw let out a sigh. Today would be a long day, especially with the gathering that would happen later.

“Come on, ye’ lazy scamp! Sleepin’ till Sunhigh!” 

Stagpaw squeezed his eyes shut for a second, before rising to his paws. 

“I'm up, I'm up.” Stagpaw muttered, flicking moss off of his ear. His tabby tail twirled back and forth, and he arched his back in a massive stretch. Great Starclan. I could've slept the whole day if I got a chance.

“Let's get ye’ fed, and we'll be off! I caught a little mouse-y, nice and fresh!” Redrabbit said, winking at his apprentice before bounding out of the den. Slowly, Stagpaw followed. 

Making his way out of the den, he noticed Badgerstar and Slatefox conversing on the rocks just beside the Mossystone, sharing a chaffinch. When Slatefox noticed him, he beckoned Stagpaw over with a tail.

Stagpaw nodded, but hurried over to the fresh-kill pile, and hooked the mouse up with his claws that Redrabbit must've been speaking about. It was still warm, just like he said. As he walked toward his father's, he noticed Adderpaw and Beechpaw, along with their mentors, Fernfrond and Oakscratch, congregating by the entrance with Redrabbit. Stagpaw made a mental note not to take too long.

With the tail of the mouse clamped between his jaws, he hopped up onto the stone that Badgerstar and Slatefox sat upon. 

“Son,”

“Hey, Stagpaw!”

The two toms spoke at the same time, and Stagpaw stretched out his neck to nuzzle each of them. Setting his mouse down, he laid down with his paws folded underneath the rest of him, right in front of his fathers. 

“Hi,” Stagpaw mewed, and only when the tantalizing smell of the mouse filled him did he realize how starving he was. He hadn't eaten anything since sundown yesterday, and after his journey to meet Jewel, he was ravenous. 

As Stagpaw lowered his head and hungrily tore off morsels of flesh, Slatefox and Badgerstar both chuckled and exchanged humorous glances. 

“Slow down, kid. It isn't going anywhere!” Badgerstar said, taking a bite of his chaffinch before shoving the rest of it to Slatefox, announcing, “I can't eat another bite.” 

Stagpaw had finished his mouse quickly, and picked his lips. “It feels like the first meal I've had in an entire moon,” He admitted, meekly ducking his head. 

Slatefox smiled, “Well, chow down. Just don't keep your mentors waiting too long- Redrabbit was disappointed enough that you weren't on the Dawn patrol with him!” After finishing his words, he lowered his head and tore off the final chunk of his meal.

Meanwhile, Badgerstar was sprawled out on the rock, lazily lapping at his belly fur. “I hoped that giving you to him as an apprentice would teach him to be a little more responsible,” He paused in his grooming, looking at Stagpaw with a lofty smile.

 Slatefox continued for him, “Or maybe you'll learn to have more fun. I see you, watching Adderpaw and Beechpaw play, or Sunnyheart's kits tustle. You've got to open up more- Sunnyheart’s kits will be apprenticed any day now, and I'm sure they'll look up to you, if you give them a reason to.”

Stagpaw gave them a forced smile. “Yeah- I'll try.” Inwardly though, he knew that both toms knew exactly why Stagpaw withheld himself. 

They all hated him, with the exception of his mentor, and Bisonpaw. His fathers too, of course. No matter how kind or strong or respectful Stagpaw was, he was always aware of the looks he got, or the hushed murmurs of disdain. The elders didn't even speak to him when he came to change their nests. He could try all he wanted, prove he was as loyal as any cat, and all they would see was that he was born outside of Thunderclan.

He knew it well, but he'd try to be a fierce warrior, even if that wasn't him. Maybe if he acted like a pure Thunderclan warrior, lied to himself enough, then he'd believe it.

“Stagpaw! Come ‘ere already!” Redrabbit's voice startled Stagpaw out of his thoughts. 

Stagpaw shook out his short honey-brown fur, and finished up his mouse in a few bites. Just before scampering away, he apologized to his fathers, “Sorry, I've gotta go! I'll be back after sun-high!” 

Slatefox mrrowed his farewell and laid his head down on the sun-warmed surface, while Badgerstar blinked warmly at him and went back to washing himself.

Meanwhile, Stagpaw hurried over to where his mentors stood.

“There ye’ are! And I was worried ye'd never come along wit’ us!” Redrabbit grinned, his tongue visible in between his tooth gap.

The reactions of Oakscratch and Beechpaw were far less tasteful.

“I don't know why we didn't leave you- You already slowed us down and we haven't even started!” Beechpaw sneered, his tail curling over his head.

Oakscratch towered over his apprentice, eyes dark. “Our time is precious- And you're wasting it. Why our leader and deputy bother with you so much, and not a pure-blooded cat like Bisonpaw is a mystery to me. You clearly have little regard for how we roll around here, and you've spent enough time with us to have known the rules. I'd have half a mind to have you stuck in the elders’ den, until you learned to respect us!” 

The senior warrior finished with an angry snort, and turned around toward the camp entrance, Beechpaw on his heels. Fernfrond followed, muttering something along the lines of, ‘Never should've let an outsider in,’ to Oakscratch. Adderpaw followed her mentor, though there was an apologetic look in her eyes when she glanced back at Stagpaw.

Redrabbit didn't look too fazed, only nudging him with his shoulder. “Chin up, kid! Ye’ll show ‘em!” He chirped, before trotting after the others. 

Stagpaw hung his head, dejected. He hadn't meant to hold them back, he had just wanted to speak to his fathers before he left. He had been hungry, too. Following his mentor, he made an effort to keep behind them- He didn't want to hear anything else they'd have to say about him, because he knew that was exactly what they were talking about.

He followed them, though made sure to stay just behind Redrabbit and no closer. They traveled through the forest, toward the clearing in the woodlands where you could clearly see the sky from between the treetops- one of the few areas in the entire territory.

There were some puddles around, left over from the rainwater from a rainshower that must've happened during the night. The group of six cats all skirted around the largest of them, but it seemed it'd be unavoidable.

“Alright, we'll be sparring with the moves we learned last time we had a group training session- The front paw blow, and foresaw slash...” Oakscratch's deep, brusque tone quickly drowned out in the mind of Stagpaw. 

The honey-brown & white tabby gazed out at the puddles, idly studying his reflection. On his left ear, there was a little nick in it. His chin had a scar that trailed just over his lip, and his nose bridge had one too. The largest of scars was on his right haunch- Two jagged gashes that had been infected at some point.

He didn't really remember getting them. He'd been rather young. All he remembered was the heavy scent of blood that clung to the memory of the vague, yet so clear at the same time, shape of the mangled body that had once been his biological father. Maybe his littermates had been there, too, but Stagpaw couldn't really remember. 

He knew it had been a fox, but that had been due to the recollections of the day from Badgerstar and Slatefox. He didn't think about it too often, since he was grateful for what he had now, but every so often he’d think about it. 

He had had a family, one different from the pseudo-family he already had. He'd had littermates, and a father who could've looked just like him, who would have a little more time for him. He wondered how it'd feel to be less alone, with siblings. Someone who'd always be there for him.

Still though, Stagpaw didn't want to get too worked up over it. He loved Slatefox and Badgerstar, and he loved Thunderclan, too. 

They'd saved him, after all. Without them, the fox would've killed it too. Maybe it had to feed its kits- Slatefox always said everything was done for a reason.

Stagpaw's memory of his earlier days were much clearer from the time after his rescue. He remembered being scared of all the cats and smells, but Badgerstar and Slatefox had come in to keep him company. He felt safe with them, as they had rescued him from the fox.

He remembered hardly being able to walk or see, with all the cobwebs plastered on his face and leg. His leg had gotten infected, and Slatefox practically hadn't left his side, interchangeable with Badgerstar.

He'd recovered, though every now and again the old wound would spring back up again and bother him. He wondered-

“Stagpaw- Stagpaw! For Starclan's sake, get your head out of the clouds!” Fernfrond’s irritated voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He abruptly lifted his head, and hunched his shoulders, when Oakscratch took over the scolding, “We've been explaining what to do. Are you above that, or something? You ought to go care for the elders until the evening- Maybe that'll teach you respect. Though I'd have half a mind to keep you from attending the gathering at all!” 

Stagpaw felt shame encapsulate him. He knew how to do the moves, but now he had made a fool of himself and now he was in trouble. 

“Well, I'm sure it was jus’ an hones’ misunders'anding-” Redrabbit was quickly cut off by an iron glare from the eyes of Oakscratch and Fernfrond.

Stagpaw felt bad for getting his mentor into trouble, too, now. “I'm sorry- it won't happen again.” He murmured, taking a step backward into the puddle. Guiltily, he lapped at his chest in an effort to hide the bashful expression that had covered his facial features. He’d been hoping to take a nap once he came back to camp, but it seemed that his hopes were now out of the question.

Oakscratch went on. “Now, if you’d like to participate, then I asked you to go stand by that tree. He flicked his round ears toward the base of an aster tree- One of the few in the forest. “Beechpaw and Adderpaw are going to partner up and practice fighting together. You just… Do whatever you know. I’m sure you must know at least the basics by now, you’ve been here long enough.”

Despite giving him an obedient nod, Stagpaw inwardly noted that he’d learned the basic moves ages ago, albeit with Badgerstar, and earlier than most. He flexed his shoulders, hoping to redeem himself in Oakscratch and Fernfrond’s eyes.

. . . Like that would ever happen. 

He slunk over to where Beechpaw and Adderpaw stood. Beechpaw's yellow eyes gleamed with a taunting look to them, while Adderpaw just looked mildly uninterested, lapping at her paws. The littermates looked similar, with the same mostly brown pelt, while Adderpaw's legs were gray. They had the same lithe bodies and long tails, and the similarities only got more prominent the longer you looked at them. Stagpaw wished that he had a sibling, but this wasn't the time to think about that, not if he wanted to keep his paws out of trouble.

Oakscratch had yelled out the command to begin, and Stagpaw hardly had a chance to even reach them before the two apprentices descended upon him. He arched his back, hurriedly bunching his muscles together as he tried to think of what he could do. He didn't even know what they were doing. 

Adderpaw was charging straight for him, but Beechpaw had darted out of view. Stagpaw was able to duck a jab from Adderpaw’s outstretched foreleg. She almost fell forward, and her blue eyes weren't alight with amusement. As though she was just about to say something, she opened her mouth, but it was cut off abruptly.

Beechpaw had barreled into the spine of Stagpaw hard enough to leave a mark. His claws sank into his back, and Stagpaw would've yelped, but Beechpaw had smashed his head against the earth. You're not supposed to use claws!

With a quick glance up, he saw Oakscratch watching them with narrowed eyes. He seemed to notice, but Stagpaw didn't think he cared too much. However, Redrabbit did.

“Hey! The apprentice's usin’ ‘is claws!” His mentor interjected. “T’hat's what ye’ do for a real fight, not a scrap like t’is!” 

Stagpaw felt humiliation overcome him as his muzzle got caked in the muddy earth. However, this was just like training sessions with Badgerstar. He knew what to do. He spun around beneath Beechpaw's grasp, and lashed out with a massive kick aimed to his stomach. Beechpaw let out a massive oomph and was sent stumbling backward, slipping into the mud on his own. Adderpaw stood back, giggling at the sight.

He leapt to his paws, aware of the pricks in his spine from Beechpaw's claws that now had beads of blood appearing, hidden by his honey-brown pelt. While Beechpaw got to his paws, Stagpaw looked toward the mentors. Oakscratch wore an expression of annoyance, and for once it wasn't targeted toward him.

“Beechpaw! You're really going to let him beat you? That was such an easy move to avoid!” Oakscratch scolded, his short tail lashing from side to side. 

“T'hat t'was great, kid!” Redrabbit trotted forward on his long legs, his tongue sticking out between his canines. He helped Stagpaw to his paws.

 He continued, giving him a wink, “I didn’ teach ye’ that- Guess ye've jus’ got good instinc's!” 

Yeah. Instincts- And a bit of help from Badgerstar. 

Stagpaw didn't feel the need to voice his thoughts. Instead, he shook his pelt vigorously, sending clumps of mud & dirty water flying through the air. He wasn't excited to have to clean that off, not one bit. 

Redrabbit kept on chattering, but Stagpaw wasn't really paying attention- It was a bad habit of his, it seemed. He was looking at Beechpaw, who was glaring at his sister. She seemed to be teasing him.

Stagpaw's tabby tail twitched, and he looked away. “Is it time to go back to camp yet?” He said, cutting Redrabbit off and feeling a little prickle of guilt immediately. Redrabbit didn’t seem to mind, though, responding in his typical chipper tone.

”I s’pose in a bit, but we ‘aven’t done too much, ‘ave we? Just with a few more moves that t’hat and we’ll be off!” He grinned, the gap in his teeth exposed as he did so.

Stagpaw nodded, looking at the other mentors. Oakscratch was muttering something in Beechpaw’s ear now, but his amber eyes were fixed on Stagpaw. He straightened under his gaze, trying to meet the senior warrior’s gaze with a cool stare of his own. 

“Come over here, Stagpaw.” 

At Oakscratch’s call, the honey-brown apprentice slunk forward, “Yes, Oakscratch?” 

“I want you to try to disarm Adderpaw. Do what you did back there.”

Stagpaw’s ears pricked. Had he been impressed by his move? Maybe he had to show Beechpaw how to do it. His insides glowed, even if he wasn’t totally sure it was even praise in the first place. He dipped his head with a swift nod, loping back to where they’d practiced previously. Despite his stinging back, he was determined to show them how it was done. It seemed like the first step in earning Oakscratch’s praise. Fernfrond’s too, though she was simply watching from the sides.

Redrabbit already was proud of him, even if he wasn’t necessarily the one who had taught Stagpaw. He was a loud, sometimes irritating cat, but Stagpaw didn’t hate him. He knew Badgerstar was his real mentor, basically, but Redrabbit could learn to be a better warrior with Stagpaw’s example of what a good apprentice should be like.

“Alright- Go!” Did Oakscratch sound amused, or was that just Stagpaw? Regardless, he bunched his developing muscles, his tail giving a final lash through the air, preparing for Adderpaw to rush forward.

When she did, however, he wasn’t met with just her claws, but Beechpaw’s as well. Stagpaw felt the claws of Beechpaw graze his back again, but he was too frightened to say anything- Oakscratch would think he was a mouse-heart if he said anything. 

Adderpaw had backed off, and was watching her brother disdainfully. ‘’Hey! Sheath your claws!”

Beechpaw did, but only after snickering, “Oops. Forgot I wasn’t fighting a mangy rogue. I’m only doing the best for our clan!” Stagpaw felt a tide of humiliation wash over him as he wriggled from beneath the bulkier cat’s grasp, his pelt more muddy than ever. 

Oakscratch and Fernfrond watched, and Stagpaw lowered his head shamefully when he noticed the amusement glittering in their eyes. I’m not a rogue! I smell like a Thunderclan cat! He thought, whiskers drooping.

Redrabbit’s green eyes glowed with outrage, and he hopped to his paws and marched over to the other mentors. “How come my ‘pprentice is the one to get inno trouble for gettin’ distracted, when your’s uses his claws withou’ a slap on the tail?”

Instead of looking sorry, though, Oakscratch’s expression was callous. “Perhaps if your apprentice can’t handle that, he should rethink where he has decided to reside. Any real Thunderclan apprentice would’ve bounced back up from that, but he cowers behind you like a cowed kitten! Thunderclan has no place for cats who believe they’re above the rules just because our leader favors them- Especially those who shouldn’t even have a nest amongst us!”

”Beechpaw was just showing him exactly what he needs to learn if he wants to continue playing pretend- He should go run off into the woods where he came from!” Fernfrond added, her singular eye glittering. 

Adderpaw looked suprised, while Beechpaw snickered, “Yeah! I'm trying to help him see what the rest of us do.”

Stagpaw stared at them, hurt painting his gaze. He wasn't surprised, or anything- It happened too much for him to have expected any less. Still, it hurt every time that it happened. 

Redrabbit looked infuriated, and stomped over to Stagpaw. “Come on, we're gonna’ do our own training’!” He announced, green eyes blazing with outrage. Stagpaw didn't need much to entice him to follow, and he went after his departing mentor with his limbs dragging.

“Redrabbit, can we go home?” Stagpaw asked, his voice embarrassingly high as he spoke. “I don't want to train any longer.” 

Redrabbit looked understanding when he responded. “Of course! Go tell ol’Badge what he did!”

Stagpaw didn't think he would, truthfully. Badgerstar trusted Oakscratch as one of his closest confidants, next to Slatefox. If he told him, Badgerstar’s trust would be destroyed, and he'd probably punish him. That would just make everything worse- He couldn't imagine the things he'd be told then.

“I will,” he found himself saying anyways, the lie tasting almost bitter on his tongue. 

“Good. Now, go an’ get some res’! Your firs’ gatherin’ is today!”

 Hooray, Stagpaw thought dryly. 

He was curious, but he was just as embarrassed. Besides, he still had to get through his punishment. Shamefully, Stagpaw padded the whole way home with his tail dragging on the ground. 

Hopping from stone to stone, at the entrance, he scanned the camp for any signs of his fathers. He couldn't see them, and assumed that they had gone hunting. They often did that, just the two of them. Depending on how long they took, Stagpaw would know if they went to see Jewel or not. However, given that they had seen her last night, he didn't think so.

Slatefox knew Jewel, but on the few occasions Stagpaw went with both of them, he'd always seemed to be at a tail-length away, both mentally and physically. 

Stagpaw didn't know why.

His familial situation was a peculiar one, with two fathers who weren't actually together and also the leader and deputy. Then Jewel- She was technically his mother, if Badgerstar was his father, but she wasn't his mother, you know?

He liked her, but he didn't see her often. She was fun and all, but Stagpaw didn't really have any honesty with her, nor did he really ever speak to her alone. She was Badgerstar’s lover, and really that was all.

Badgerstar was Stagpaw's idol. He knew he loved him, but he always felt that his father thought he was a frail kitten- Stagpaw was desperate to prove him wrong. His fall at the waterfalls hadn't helped. He always felt like he had something to show off when he was with Badgerstar, no matter how much they loved one another. 

And Slatefox… It was easy. Stagpaw never felt as though he needed to hide his vulnerabilities, nor did he need to prove anything. Slatefox was gentle and caring, but he was always busy. Badgerstar too- They didn't always have time to spend on Stagpaw. 

For a cat with virtually no friends, it was a lonely way of living. But it was his life, so he made the most of it.

[somnambulants]

yelena requests you say? can i throw in my hand and ask for something with yelena telling you she loves you for the first time? 👉🏼👈🏼😌 thank you in advance!

open up those blinds

Word count: 1.3K Warnings: BW spoilers

Yelena knows she isn’t good with love. It doesn’t come easy to her. Not anymore. There was a time in her life that she remembers the words I love you had fallen from her lips quicker and with more ease than breathing.

It’s very distant. Very far away in her mind, like she was a whole different person and she kind of was.

But she remembers.

To be fair, she’d also been six and thought she’d been saying those words to her mother, her father, her sister. Her family. None of it had been real. Not even her love and especially not theirs.

Except Natasha. Her sister. But Natasha, her sister, was --

Either way, Yelena now can’t recall a time since where she’d told someone she loved them.

Not genuinely anyway.

In the years since escaping the red room, she’s had multiple relationships – multiple flings, she would call them actually and all of them had ended more disastrously than the last.

She’d been slapped by a lover scorned a lot more times than she’d admit but it was what is was in her mind. Life went on.

She doesn’t do love. Love is for children, as far as she’s concerned. She doesn’t need love. She has Fanny and all she really needs is her dog. And to her own slight wariness still; she will pick up Alexei and Melina’s calls when they do reach out.

But that’s it. She doesn’t need anyone else.

She’s not a total recluse though, she likes people — the normal ones — most of the time and she knows she’s charming. She can have anyone she wants. She just doesn’t care enough to keep them.

Not until she meets you.

That’s when it all changes.

It’s such a clichéd way to meet; like one of the rom-coms she secretly enjoys but would never tell anyone she enjoys.

She’s walking Fanny one day and all of a sudden, her dog – the Houdini of dogs – escapes out of her collar and lead and is running off down the street like something’s chasing her.

“Fanny, come,” she calls out after her, exasperated. It’s futile. Fanny keeps running, too fast for her to catch up so she has to jog after her, still calling out as her dog disappears entirely from sight.

She growls under her breath while she follows. “You ungrateful dog,” she mutters to herself. “Never giving you treats again. Or belly rubs. Or letting you sleep in my bed. See how you like it.”

As soon as she turns the corner, she finds Fanny, no longer running. And then you, the reason she is no longer running.

You’re on your knees on the ground as Fanny stands over you, paws on your shoulders, licking your face as you laugh and pat her on the head gently.

“Fanny,” she barks again to no avail. She might as well be invisible for all the attention she’s getting from her dog.

“Nice dog,” you call out to her, as Fanny gives you another lick on the check.

Still on the ground, you have to look up at her as you say it. You’re covered in mud and dirt, clothes dishevelled and covered with Fanny’s pawprints, and before she knows it, Yelena’s falling, falling, falling.

“Thanks,” is all she says, at a loss for words. Something that never happens to her. Normally she’d be saying something quippy and borderline obnoxious by now, while she flirted with you shamelessly.

You grin and hold out your hand to her. “Y/N.”

--

The first time you tell her you love her, she stares at you, wide-eyed and silent for long enough that your face starts to fall before you force a smile that probably wouldn’t even convince Fanny, who is sitting in the corner, paws over her eyes like she can’t bear to watch the train wreck in front of her.

Yelena wishes she could do the same.

“It’s okay,” you tell her, expression taut as you try to smooth away the hurt she can see plainly. You turn away as you say it but Yelena doesn’t miss the way your lip trembles; the way this is clearly not okay. “It’s okay. I’m going to go have a uh, shower, okay?”

You don’t come out of the bathroom for hours. Yelena sits on your shared bed and silently cries to herself, wondering what the hell is wrong with her.

She loves you. She loves you so much. She knows she does.

She just can’t say it.

That night, in bed, Yelena stares at the ceiling still thinking, or more aptly agonising about it while you flick through your emails beside her.

You’d returned from the bathroom eventually, your eyes red and not quite meeting her own but you still had given her a kiss on the cheek that she felt in no way deserving off.

You haven’t broached the topic again – haven’t so much as gone near it and things between you have just settled uneasily. Like it’s an elephant in the room neither of you can bear to address.

Fanny is curled up by Yelena’s side, nose pressed against her thigh. She’s looking up at her with her big doleful puppy eyes, as if she can sense Yelena’s despondency. Every so often, she’ll lean in to lick her on the arm.

Eventually, you’re the one that gives in and breaks the awkward tension between you both.

“You’re quiet, tonight,” you say, finger hovering over the keyboard as you scroll. She can hear the anxiety in your voice and hates that she put it there. “Everything okay?”

It’s clearly not. You both know that but it’s your way of giving her an out; a way to put this behind you and pretend it never happened if she says ‘yes’. It makes her love you — and hurts a little — all the more that you’d do that for her if she wanted you to.

Yelena doesn’t answer you for a long second, chewing on her nails as she continues to mull over what she can do to fix this.

She doesn’t know how to do this; no one prepared her for this. For you.

The silence stretches on long enough that she starts to panic. It pretty much bursts out of her. “I do. Love you, you know that?” she blurts out, stumbling over the words. It’s definitely not what she was planning on saying but now she’s talking she can’t stop. “So much. I’m just not… good… I’m not good at love. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Her heart feels like it’s going to beat out of its chest as you pause, your eyes no longer flicking across the screen, just staring at it blankly now. She wonders briefly if she’s having a heart attack. It feels like it.

She watches your brows furrow a little as you digest her words. Trained from a young age, Yelena is an expert at deciphering body language; and even more so with you so she knows by the look on your face that you’re trying to figure out what to say.

She doesn’t have to wait long.

Gently, you close your laptop and turn to her, shifting so you can pull her into your arms. Yelena doesn’t think she’s breathed out this entire time and so air comes out of her in a rush as she eagerly leans into you.

“I think you’re pretty great at love, actually,” you tell her quietly after a long stretch of silence, your voice careful but still completely sincere. She can feel your lips pressed against her temple as you speak. “And I love that about you. You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready yet.”

She can tell you’re being honest. There’s no inflection in your tone that indicates untruthfulness. And even if she wasn’t trained to spot lies, you were not a particularly proficient liar even on your best days.

In response to your words, she finds that she can’t speak and instead just twists around so she can kiss you.

It’s less co-ordinated than usual but she kisses you fiercely, hoping you can feel how much she loves you as she does.

The way you smile against her lips tells her you do.

[ask-the-music-man]

(Nobody asked for this, but continuing on Ben’s mini saga with Centi haha Not much of a writer, so excuse if it a bit clunky and stuff

Also description of panic attack at the end so heads upp)

After many long and silent nights in the pizzeria, Ben had taken to tinkering with leftover animatronic parts, now filling the usually silent office with metallic clanks and tings. They weren't really sure what they were doing, not having much experience with robotics, but it was interesting to see how things fit together and worked.

Or didn't work, as Ben often simply guessed what went together. But it still passed the time, and the mechanics even encouraged Ben to keep practicing. The head mechanic, Flora, was probably the most excited to see the young guard having an interest in her line of work. She'd actually surprised Ben a few weeks back with a box of parts, explaining they found an old mini animatronic that was scrapped from another location, and saying Ben could tinker with it as much as they liked. Though it was hard to tell Ben's emotions a lot of the time, a signed 'thank you' and a slight nod, told Flora they appreciated the gesture. During the weeks, Ben had made some progress on the animatronic, putting together an arm - or perhaps leg? - guessing it was some sort of mammal, with the small claws and paw pads. They had looked through all the parts to see was it could have been, but it appeared the head was severely damaged, smashed in with a blunt object, so they'd just have to wait until they'd finished to find out.

The 'silent hours' had approached the pizzeria, but Ben was far too engrossed in fixing some components of their new project to notice the time. The monitor's continuous hum as background noise to their focus, only occasionally breaking it to get another stick of pocky, after they sucked the chocolate coating off and eaten the biscuit part. The could have been there for minutes or hours, as a crackling sound from the monitor finally pulled them out of their hyper-focus. Ben had to blink a few times, squinting to the screen as a large - almost ghostly - black blob quivered in the main room by the ballpit. They stared blankly for a moment, considering they'd been so focused, they'd forgotten their medication and this was a mild hallucination, but upon checking, they had their medication as normal. After two more check of wiping the screen and taking a photo on their phone, Ben grew concerned. Either the camera was glitching or something was in the pizzeria. Something big. Ben didn't like the idea of something that size getting inside without their knowledge, so they scrolled through their phone's contacts, beginning a video call with the pizzeria's technician, Markus. It took a moment for him to pick up, but considering the time, he was probably asleep. "...Hello..? Ben..?" Markus' voice slurred from the speaker as he looked bleary into the camera, "What's up, it's like... Nearly four AM..." Ben leaned their phone against their coffee mug, signing with both hands, 'You did say call anytime.' Markus made an amused snort, sitting up in his bed, "Yeah, I guess you got me there." He gave a lopsided smile, and pushed the mess of hair from his face, before speaking again. "Is there a problem? You usually don't call just to talk." Ben nodded curtly. turning the phone to the monitor, which continued to show the static black mass. 'I think camera three is glitching.' Markus had to squint a bit before putting his glasses on, and looking again. "Huh. That's not a glitch I've ever seen before... Is it on any of the others?" Doing a quick check of the other cameras, Ben signed a 'no', pausing before adding 'I haven't checked out the room, but it looks more like a glitch than anything real.' "Yeah, it does seem like it." Markus hummed, "It's still probably worth a check. It'll take a few for me to get down there and all." Ben nodded again, agreeing with him, but not completely thrilled about having to look. Especially if there was something, and it was as big as it appears on camera. "Hey, it'll be fine." Markus chimed in again, noticing Ben's lack of signing and the slight glazing washing over their expression, "There's no traffic at four AM, I'll be there before you know it." After another hesitant pause, Ben nodded once more. 'Alright.' Markus once again promised to be as fast as he could be, and the two said their goodbyes, leaving Ben in silence once more.

It wasn't that Ben was scared. Who was not scared of what was unknown to them. But something about the situation made the guard anxious. It just felt incredibly off. The addition of them requiring their cane today also didn't help, making them slower and unable to defend themselves if there was a threat... But there couldn't possibly be anything. The alarms would have sounded at a break-in. They would have noticed. No more hesitation, they told themselves. Getting to their feet with the help of their cane, Ben picked up the flashlight and started down the halls. They carefully observed all the doors and vents, noting nothing out of place nor anyone out of their rooms. As they continued to the main room, the off feeling got worse. A quiet tinny ringing sound entered their head, brushing it off as their tinnitus, before it quickly got louder and more intense with each step they took. Becoming almost monstrous cries in their ears, They felt their body tense and impossibly heavy, as if gravity wanted to suddenly yank them downwards. Teeth grinding against themselves and their legs becoming shaky, holding onto their cane tighter and tighter. Ben mentally chided themselves. Why did now have to be the time for a panic attack. There was nothing there. They had to do their job. As they finally approached the seemingly endless hallway to the main room, the body tremors and ringing sounds became far too much for the guard, slumping against the wall as they dropped both flashlight and cane. In a last ditch effort, Ben weakly clawed along the wall, as least hoping to see inside the main room. But it was ultimately a futile attempt as their body shut down completely, dropping to the floor as they were overwhelmed by an unknown force. Unaware of the nightmare that was just a few steps away.

[witchofthesouls]

Human to Cybercat!AU, the Decepticon base edition (if they reached the facility first):

Soundwave intercepted the transmission of humans working on Cybertronian technology and a group of Vehicons under Breakdown’s command were dispatched.

You’re fast, mean mechanimal machine that chomped on many servos and gouged deep into quite a few legs with wickedly sharp claws.

Vehicons had to herd you to a corner as Breakdown tore you from the wall and stuffed you into a storage container.

Despite Breakdown’s heavy-handed force, he’s careful with you in his hold. His field pulses with calm steadiness, soothing even, and eventually the howling and banging dies down.

Soundwave is the closest thing they have to a veterinarian since he spent part of his youth as a beast-tamer before being slotted for sword-fighting in the gladiatorial pits. He has some experience with your particular Cybertronian cybercat breed.

Polyhexian Nightcrawlers have a unique ability to erase their biosignature from their surroundings, so he sedates you before he opens the container.

You’re a fine specimen with a dense, lovely coat of carbon fibers. Very fluffy. Young as well. Nobles spent an immense amount of credits for cute mechanimals, especially with floof.

Definitely chips you since trying to keep a Nightcrawler contained in one area in a futile exercise...

The cybercat breed you’ve been transformed into has powerful magnetic paws, so you literally became a ceiling-cat.

Due to your ability to disappear from detection, mechs often look up to make sure you wouldn’t jump to land on their faces. If the Autobots in one universe were able to simply trip from a cat-loaf on the floor, you’re definitely heavy enough to bring down a mech when slamming straight to their helms, protection be damned.

Megatron’s too amused by this and allows it to continue. Decepticons must be able to handle anything thrown at them at any given moment.

It becomes a common sight to see a growling furball well-entangled and dangling by Soundwave’s data-cable or you sprawled over the TIC’s neck.

This keeps you from causing too much trouble, or whenever he has enough of you hogging the main computer’s keyboard.

With the keyboard always in use and the holographic screens, it’s a prime warm spot to take a long nap.

Cybertronian biolights and protoform give off quite a bit of heat. You’ve figured out how to position yourself across Soundwave’s neck and shoulders to maximize all that lovely warmth from the exposed parts of his chassis.

This makes the TIC your favorite sleeping spot and Decepticon officer.

Megatron has experience with Polyhexian Nightcrawlers from his mining days since those cats linger by adits and willingly venture deep into mines to take advantage of prey and energon, he knows exactly where to scratch and pet to get an affectionate, rumbling rug of bliss. You’re purring so loud that your body vibrates.

The warlord knows to have you lying across his thighs and away from his modesty panel.

Knockout uses a specific type of polish that smells quite delicious to you.

The Decepticon medic hates the amount of fur you shed. Yes, it’s a luscious coat, but so. Much. Stray. Hair. AND IT GETS IN HIS SEAMS!!!

Petting therapy strangely becomes routine among the Decepticons. Many enjoy your luscious coat and the vibrations from your purring.

Starscream would pace his room, petting you as he grouses on whatever the day’s annoyance.

You’ve been doing rounds in the barracks and spending time with those too stressed.

[circumstellars]

I don't normally do the writing myself, but this fandom is so quiet and lacks content, so I'm forced to write awful terrible ficlets to contribute.

General rating, Five & Diego, Elliot POV, Lila cameo. Happens after Diego is stabbed S2 EP2 and while he's recovering under Lila and Five's care S2 EP3. No more than 1600 words ish.

Inspired by this post:

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

The pain is immediate, the cramps are in possibly every muscle Elliott has. When consciousness hits him like a thunderbolt, it drops him into the middle of a tension-laced back and forth between... didn't they mention names? The aliens - er, his uninvited guests are muttering lowly not far away. The tightly wrapped gag has chafed both corners of his mouth and he can't seem to focus.

'You didn't untie him?'

A kid? Oh! The Kid. Elliott opens his eyes with a start and spots through bleary vision the (alien?) boy just a few feet away, looking unnervingly human and pawing at something on his neck. He looks unimpressed at the response he gets.

'Was I supposed to?'

There's a deep, exhausted sigh and before he can grab his bearings again, Elliott feels loosening pressure behind him. Two, Three, Four... Five! That's it! Shit - had he really stared them down the barrel of his shotgun? He should be dead it registers, but the thought is fleeting and broken by Five's weary voice; there's small, barely audible cracks in every few syllables when he says,

'The assumption here is that you will behave.’ Elliott snaps his head obediently just before the gag is loosened and the relief floods over the aches in all his nooks and corners. 'Put on some coffee: I need to think.' He can't see Five behind his chair just then, but his words sound far away, clipped short by a quick flash and the falling of dead air to replace him.

Elliott can hear the English woman fussing in the next room, and a quiet snoring from a third party, and he licks at the dried blood crusted in the right corner of his mouth. However his limbs protest, he gets up carefully anyway.

He doesn't know when Five plans on returning, but Elliott doesn't want to find out what happens if the coffee isn't finished when he does.

---

Elliott doesn't sleep that night. He isn't the only one.

It's well into the earliest morning hours when the third pot of coffee finishes brewing, and only just, before Five blinks into the kitchen to pour yet another cup. Elliott peers at him from his desk in the adjacent room, where Five has been keeping him busy monitoring his collection of radar equipment. Elliott hasn't the faintest what half these devices do, but the boy seems incredibly invested, and every little blip on his screens is scrutinised by Five immediately.

Elliott quietly takes a bite of cereal he's only half-interested in eating, and ever so carefully watches the boy in the kitchen over a few spoonfuls of tasteless granola.

Five looks eerily pensive. He's staring into the blackness of the coffee pot on the counter, and Elliott can barely see his unmoving figure, licked over occasionally by yellow light flowing in from where his wounded brother lay resting in the common room. In the quietude he can hear a pair of soft, twin snores float through the flat.

He has so many questions. They're bubbling up behind his lips but he is careful to say nothing until Five breaks his moody silence. Elliott doesn't think much of himself, but there are bits and pieces he'd rather maintain un-melted by an unpredictable alien teenager.

--

When Five does finally move, Elliott had long given up studying his motionless shape and was arms deep in rolls of labelled film canisters scattered about him. He nearly screamed when a deeply troubled sigh dropped in behind his ear and brought him to attention- he swallowed it quickly.

'You're out of gauze.'

He nods shortly in acknowledgement, his eyes following as Five leans his lower back into Elliott's desk and weaves his arms over one another tightly. The expression on the boy's face even in the dim lamp light from the next room looks stormy and blackened; his eyebrows are knitted deeply and however impossible it might seem his folded mouth looks like it belongs to a man four times his age. Elliott finds it moderately disturbing. It's another long few minutes before Five mumbles, barely audible into the dead air,

'Was he breathing? You know, when they got here,' and he's not looking at Elliott but even a hermit like he was versed enough in social interactions to pick up on the subtleties in Five's voice. The question was so steady and so calm, too calm, the kid's eyes too stony - his posture too impassive. Elliott's eyes flickered over to the opening of the atrium across the way.

'I didn't see much - I was um, you had me, you know,' he vaguely gestures to being strapped to one of the dentist chairs nearby. Five doesn't say anything, so he keeps going and drops his spoon into the bowl in front of him. 'But-but uh, the girl took care of it,' he says uselessly. 'The other one-'

'Diego.'

'-right, D-Diego, he didn't make much noise at first. I couldn't see what she was doing but she sounded... upset. Then the guy started screaming for bit before quieting down, I guess, until you showed up.'

Five's expression remains poker-still. Elliott swallows audibly. 'Mostly the guy--Diego--' he is quick to correct himself as Five's eyes slide icily in his direction, 'wasn't saying much, sort of gasping I guess, he sounded really hurt. Sort of just saying one thing really,' Elliott sits back in his chair, holding one hand with the other in hopes he isn't visibly quivering. He's fascinated by these newcomers, especially this one, but part of him can't shuck the thick layer of nerves that buzzes over his skin in Five's presence. It's almost like his body is scared of something his eyes aren't registering beyond the schoolboy shorts and preppy, embroidered blazer.

He can see the thin black line of Five's mouth part, so the rest rapidly tumbles from Elliott's lips: 'Kept saying, uh “Dad", a lot, or-or… something.'

WHAP.

He launches out of his chair at the sharp smack of a fist on the brittle wood of his desk. It shakes and Elliott shakes too, but in a rapid blink Five is gone from the room. What just happened?

He catches a shadow in the corner of his eye and moves to follow it out into the large atrium once more. The whole room is dark and yellowed by the single lamp on the corner table, and its casting bewitching phantoms on his dingy walls. Diego is laid there on his sofa, quiet in sleep save for a few stuttering wheezes that sound quite painful to Elliott.

'He's really stupid.'

Elliot exclaims under his breath and snaps his head toward Five. The boy is nestled in the darkest corner on this level, pressed up against the barrier across the way. He can't see his face, but can tell he's crumpled up into himself just as he was at Elliott's desk a moment before.

'I don't know how he made it to adulthood, quite honestly,' and Five says this gravely; he is quite serious. 'I can't believe how stupid he is, even now.'

Elliott doesn't know what to say. He says nothing.

Diego fusses in his sleep a moment before his breathing settles, encumbered but steady.

'He knows. He's voluntarily-purposely stupid because he knows.' Five sounds strained. His breath is loud enough to hear from several feet across the room; Elliott doesn't know if it's because the room is quiet or Five is loud. 'He must know on some level that I'm always going to come back to break his fall. Maybe they all do.'

For an extended moment, nothing followed Five's muted words. Elliott feels like a haunting in the doorway. He shuffles uncomfortably from foot to foot. He doesn't know if Five is talking to him or at him, or perhaps neither, maybe he's already forgotten his harmless new acquaintance was still in the room completely.

Elliott is overwhelmed with unbelievable curiosity and debilitating ignorance; he doesn't know the first thing about any of these people, or their closely guarded secrets. He's not sure he even experiences the same reality as them, so he is not sure he understands Five's hum of suppressed anger - if it is in fact anger at all.

Suddenly, he wants to leave. The room feels smaller, more intimate and it's like he doesn't belong in his own living room. He doesn't know if he was meant to ask, but he does.

'So then... why?'

It's all he gets out, not a entire thought but at the same time a fittingly complete question. Why?

Be that as it may, he doesn't expect Five to answer. Elliott isn't sure exactly what he is to this kid--alien--person, or what purpose he is meant to serve here, but he is almost certainly sure it is not Trusted Confidant. He may very well be superfluous furniture to any of them, even in his own house.

It's an eternity before Elliott decides to pull himself away, escape whatever surreal little bubble is suffocating him in this doorway. The unadulterated exhaustion in his sore joints and bones is slithering up the back of his neck all at once.

He's suddenly startled by a hand reaching out from the darkness beyond the door. He's pulled an arms length toward what turns out to be the dark figure of The Girl, who raises a finger to her own lips. She doesn't speak and doesn't move, and Elliott stares into what features of her face he can make out in the poor lighting, but she's clearly already focused beyond him. Her expression is absolutely opaque as she looks toward the weak light spilling out of the main room doorway.

It's futile now, he thinks. He is certain they are completely out of earshot when he hears it - or maybe he doesn't, the voice is so incredibly fragile and quiet and young that Elliott is sure it belongs to no one in this house that he knows of.

Perhaps it was a pining spirit passing in the night, the sound of it’s longing confession diffusing instantly in the air as if never spoken at all.

'... It's because I love them.'

[radiorenjun]

[18:54] As you lie down in your favourite sweater on the couch, you had such a relaxing day that you couldn't be bothered to put on pajamas. You let out an exaggerated sigh, nuzzling your figure against the soft fabric of the pillows surrounding you.

Your favorite show was airing on TV and a bowl of popcorn beside you. You tugged the blanket over your comfortable state to warm yourself up in the air conditioned room. The heat of the fluffy sheets engulfed your body as you munch your way through the show.

Life couldn't be more comfortable. Peaceful. Serene. The soft sounds of the characters dialogs filling the room. Life has never been more simple. Nothing in the world could ever interrupt your relaxing day, right?

You wish.

There was a familiar odd sound. Sort of like a cute rabbit being strangled. You look to where the sound came from only to be crushed under the weight of your oh-so-beloved boyfriend, Na Jaemin. His body sprawled out like a starfish ontop of you in a flash, causing you to let out a loud startled yelp.

"Na Jaemin!" you exclaimed in alarm. Jaemin's head right beside yours as he nuzzled the side of his face against yours with a satisfied hum. Why has God forsaken you with an adorable dork for a boyfriend? I have no idea, but be grateful.

"Jaemin, my favorite show is on" you whined as the boy's arms came to place themselves on the space in between your head and the pillows to trap your head to face his. The boy just had a fresh shower, hence the strong scent of his shampoo filled your nose, almost hypnotising you.

As much as you love Jaemin. This was the season finale of your show, you can't bare to miss a single ep. He hasn't spoken since he tackled you on the couch and blocked your view of the screen, unless you count the moans he produced when he sniffed your scent.

"Jaemin, get off" you whined, stretching out the vowels of his name childishly. Jaemin started peppering your face with soft sensual kisses, leaving a very obnoxiously loud "mwuah" when he pulled away. "Jaemin!" you whined again, but it was futile and you both knew it. He started from your cheek to your nose to your forehead and finally your lips.

The boy kissed your lips for at least 20 seconds before pulling away with a bright smile on his face which practically lit up your entire day. "You're so cute in my sweater wrapped up in blankets like this, I can't help myself" he cooed moving his hands to grab your wrist and intertwined his fingers with yours through your sweater paws.

"Can we just cuddle later or at least watch the show in peace" you pouted, looking up at your boyfriend who was practically giving you heart eyes at your barefaced state. "Nope" he chuckled before practically engulfing your cheek.

His lips sucked into his mouth as he grabbed the soft skin of your cheek with his mouth, he practically bit through his lips and sucked in the skin while he pulled your cheek teasingly as he let out a loud "nom!" in the process.

You let out a whine as he moved a hand from yours to pinch your cheek. "Jaemin, that hurts," you whined, attempting to push away your lovely boyfriend with your free hand. "You're so cute! Your cheeks are so fluffy I can't control myself" he cooed in a baby-highpitched tone when he pulled away.

"If you're going to continue babying me then you might as well get under these blankets and cuddle and watch with me" you smiled, stretching your arm out acting as an entrance to your blanket cave. Jaemin let out a grin before immediately going under the covers and hugged you tightly.

His arm wrapped tightly around your waist as you moved to tangle your legs together. Your heads resting against each other, your arms wrapped around his shoulder as his forehead leaned against your temple, nuzzling against it lovingly.

You both sighed at the comfortable position before continueing to watch the show in the silence of each others warmth. With Jaemin constantly peppering your red bitten (?) cheek with his soft kisses.

You definitely love this boy too much for your own good.

[zombriekid]

The Devil Takes Care of His Own 3/?? [Alastor/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hazbin Hotel

Chapter Name: Checking In?

Chapter Summary: you’re faced with a dilemma as the happy hotel opens its doors to you

Text from: The Boss

“WHAT. THE FUCK. DID YOU DO, NEWBIE?”

Oh no...

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Fuck... oh fuck, oh god no, please.

“WHY ARE SO MANY OF MY CLIENTS COMPLAINING ABOUT YOU?!”

The drop of your stomach echoes with a fluttering impression, while a surge of heat, abrupt and uncomfortable, licks at the lining of your throat all the way up to your jaw and it bleeds into your ears; the burgundy walls all around you begin to shrink.

“SOWBELLY SAYS YOU BROKE SOME SHOT!”

“*shit you broke some shit”

“AND THAT COFFEE SMELLIN HIPSTER FUCK SAYS-”

With a resounding clack, your phone slips from your grip and plummets to the sturdy countertop below, a noise that makes the three people around you flinch (you notice distantly), but your brain- your outermost awareness- doesn’t even bother. Because your entire world is now summing up to the blurbs of rapid fire notifications assaulting the LCD screen. Message after heated text message just filled to the brim with expletives and threats and perpetual capslock until this massive wall of verbal abuse blurs your vision; makes your head throb in sync with the increasing thump-thump of your heart.

The device vibrates against the bar and its screen lights up with another message alert, this one demanding your immediate response before declaring you a “useless piece of shit”, and then not long after comes a voice mail about a minute in length.

You’re not gonna listen to it though, you’re gonna grovel.

A tap from your right middle finger brings the digital keyboard to the glass, and your digits begin dancing across the letters to formulate what you consider to be a heartfelt apology, and you beg forgiveness for your transgressions as a lowly delivery person.

But three paragraphs in your hand forces a sudden stop; typos in need of amending due to the constant use of the backspace key, an entire sentence underlined by red squiggly lines with no break between the nonsense letters, and without realizing it at some point you accidentally pulled up the emoji list and now thirty percent of your sniveling is made up of a bunch of cartoons. It’s an odd sensation, you think as you stare back at the jargon, a backlog of muscle memory for modern technology yet you can’t even design coherent text messages in order to save face.

In order to save your fucking job.

All because your goddamn useless hands won’t stop fucking shaking.

Suppose it’s a futile effort at this point- your ass is one hundred percent absolutely and totally fired now.

Meaning no money for bills, no money for food, for utilities, for clothes... Here comes your eviction notice- goodbye lumpy mattress, and a fine greeting to the filthy streets of Pentagram City. A steep price for your compulsive philanthropy, go figure that that’s how things operate down here. How bass ackwards.

But that’s alright, that’s okay, you’ve been through worse you think- you’ve been- you’ve...

You’ve suffered through worse before. Homelessness? Ha, nothing compared to the shit you’ve seen willingly, a temporary setback, maybe a coworker will let you sleep on their couch. The new girl, what was her name? Stacy? Yeah, she’s pretty eager she’ll let you crash with her- it’ll give her more of an excuse to “befriend” you but that’s alright. Sacrifice comfort for survival, right?

“Newbie.”

Not the first time, definitely won’t be the last; life in a concrete jungle is such a fickle bitch, especially here in-

“Newbie!”

-here in Pentagram City.

Present time. Post death. Hell. The here and now.

Impossibly small hands are pulling the apples of your cheeks into fleshy bulbs, folding your lips as a pout, and the darkened corners of your vision dim until Niffty’s lone ocular takes precedence in sight; a triad of quick blinks help anchor your focus.

Oh. How wonderful. Yet another episode... how many does that make today? Certainly way more than usual.

You blame the stress.

“Newbie, you okay?” Niffty asks with a tight throat, and a bob of your head delivers your response.

“Just havin’ a... moment. But I’m alright now.”

She glances down to her right in the direction of your phone, still glaring at you from the grainy surface of the bar, and it’s as if you can literally see the gears in her brain start to rotate. You’re fairly certain that she’s about to put two and two together and get four.

“That’s just my own bossman, Mr. Terry. Well, pretty sure he’s my former boss now.”

“Is it cause of today? When you helped me?”

Your knee-jerk reaction is to mindlessly blurt out a response that would confirm her suspicions, but luckily whatever humanity remains in tact notices her pitch- not necessarily concern rather something akin to it paints the undertone- and it clamps your mouth shut with an audible click of your teeth. Because what you were about to do, what you were about to say, be it directly or indirectly that was going to shift at least some of the blame on to her, and that would be completely unfair. The fault doesn’t lie with her. It’s entirely your own. First off the little lady didn’t even ask for your help, she didn’t beckon to you she didn’t plead for interception, you swooping in to “save the day” was your body’s reflexive need to act, to just do something instead of perpetuating the stereotype of morbidly curious bystander. Second, the manner of which how you saved her was incredibly, stupidly sloppy- a path of damage shadowing your trek and all you left behind was a substantial cost of repairs and replacements. Since when was charging through a line of stores ever a good idea?!

No, you made the decision to do something about Niffty’s situation, so you could’ve found a better way to engage it- actually you should’ve found a better way, but your lapse in judgment cost some people tools, resources, products, and even some clientele, thus costing you practically everything, and now Hell is demanding its pound of flesh from someone’s hide.

Don’t let her believe that it may come from her.

“Nah, I accidentally pissed off some clients recently,” you say as you gently take hold of her hands and remove them from your face. “No need to worry about it, kiddo.” Which none of that is a lie in any capacity, sometimes your cleverness does in fact shine through.

Niffty doesn’t seem to think so, though obviously there’s no way for her to know without some form of mind reading, regardless her face falls into a displeased frown complete with round, bulgy cheeks. “I’m not a kid, Newb. Besides you’re younger than me!”

Oh, she’s so friggin precious, you’re gonna miss this youngen. “In terms of dates, sure. But my, uhh, ‘departure time’ so to speak-” you decorate this with air quotes “-gives me some years on ya.”

“Yeah, by a few at most.”

... No? By, like, ten-ish years? Are you missing something?

“Dude I’m pretty sure I died somewhere in my twenties.”

“Okay? And?”

Okay, yeah, you’re definitely missing something. The tingles on the back of your neck prove this.

She’s not a child, is she?

“... Niffty, how old were you when you bought the farm?”

“Twenty two.”

Alright, okay, that’s dope- how long until the next extermination? That’s a thing you’ve heard about, and you’d really love to volunteer yourself to be first in line right about now. The sooner the better, really.

From pit in his stomach comes an eruption of raucous glee, such an intense reaction that it forces Angel Dust- long forgotten until now- to bend until he’s bracing himself with two hands on his knees, the other pair clutching around his heaving abdomen, as he cry-laughs at your expense.

Meanwhile, the feathered feline fellow manning the bar makes a sound in the back of his throat loud enough to reach your ears, and when you give him your attention he deems the conversation relevant enough to glimpse at you from the corner of his amber eyes; there’s a deep green bottle entrapped in his massive paws and with a tip of the neck he takes a hearty swig before he finally mutters whatever is on his mind. You catch a whiff of the unmistakeable odor of bitter, cheap booze.

“Didja really think Niff’s a kid?”

...

Ten minutes.

Ten whole arduous minutes spent enduring rigorous taunting and not-so-light-hearted ribbing from all three demonic compatriots; statements such as “not so bright are ya, smooth talka?” ala Angel and “no wonder you’re so weird” courtesy of Niffty force the tips of your ears to sear with your cheeks quickly following the same trend.

In your defense, Niffty’s rather small stature and youthful disposition makes her seem much younger than she actually (apparently) is, and sincerest apologies to the court but she’s the most humanoid individual you’ve encountered downside- other than Charlie, of course- so how were you to know that she wasn’t a child in danger solely based on the information you were given? It’s not like you had the time to stop and ask!

And if this trio of assholes would take a few moments to consider your perspective then maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to jump straight to mockery, so until they do they can just suck your bits.

____________________________________

Some time passes, you’re unclear on how much for you refuse to even so much as think of your phone right now, and though you’ve yet to receive anything further from Mr. Terry- no more text messages, no more voice mails, no more notifications- and though the hotel’s three residents have retired from their cruelty and are seeking entertainment elsewhere- Niffty on a dusty painting, Husk at the bottom of a bottle, and Angel Dust... doing whatever in another room- still you find no peace.

No respite from this fuster cluck of a situatio.

And you don’t know what you’re going to do about it.

But you gotta do something, can’t let this continue to fester, so take a deep breath: one, two, three, four- and let it out: five, six, seven, eight- and repeat. Clear your head. Think about this logically.

The first step should be an apology, of course, but your gut tells you that a simple “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to, won’t happen again” just wouldn’t suffice- not for a group of pissed off demons at least. And your employment with Mr. Terry is a measly two weeks young, nowhere near enough to build up some sort of history of positive work ethic, so starting with him is practically a fool’s errand already.

After all, your enigmatic boss isn’t known for his mercy.

... maybe...

Maybe you’re on to something with that assessment.

Maybe you shouldn’t apologize to him first but rather save him for last. Work up the list of priorities instead of down.

Starting with the demon you pissed off first: Mrs. Sowbelly.

Two pokes at your back.

A delicate, graceful exclamation of “FUCK!” comes bellowing out of your mouth as the abrupt shock nearly sends your ass careening to the floor, your hands scrambling upon the bar in order to hook stability.

Mere seconds later and you find Charlie over the slope of your shoulder with her right index finger pointed in your direction; the look on her face suggests that your squawking startled her. In this moment your mouth works much faster than your brain and an apology is already leaping off your tongue... that is until you notice the person standing next to her.

Now, not to be rude about it, but there’s nothing inherently striking about this individual; gray tinted skin, long white hair pouring down the length of her spine, a few inches shorter than the blonde at her side, and a large pink eye staring straight at you with something like irritation. For the most part, she looks human- not humanoid like Charlie and Niffty, but like you.

Human.

And that’s why she’s stealing your attention.

“Hey Newbie, I want to introduce you to the Happy Hotel’s manager and my partner, Vaggie.” Charlie says with a somewhat forced smile, likely residual from your outburst.

With your eyes trained on the gal in question, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Howdy, pleasure to meet you.”

Vaggie doesn’t say anything back.

Luckily, however, Charlie keeps the conversation rolling.

“The two of us actually wanted to talk to you about something important. Is... is that okay?”

For your anxiety? Anything that even remotely parallels “we need to talk” is a near guarantee to sending your heart to the racetrack, so no it’s not okay in that regard. That being said, given her response earlier, before Mr. Terry battered you with derisive texts, and the fact that she called the manager/her girlfriend over is... well, you’d be lying if you said that you aren’t intrigued. Skeptical, maybe even paranoid, but intrigued. So you give your consent.

“Cool beans! So, umm, I think I’m just going to cut to the chase here,” she clears her throat, “we want you to stay here. At the Happy Hotel. To be rehabilitated.”

...

....

“I’m sorry, fucking what?”

The question is out before the rest of your body has time to process Charlie’s words, but even when you fully digest the information you’re still left feeling perplexed. What does she mean “rehabilitation”, what all does that entail, why did she have to call her girlfriend for this?

And, oh, how her patience seems to know no bounds for the smile that curls on her lips is soft, and her brow pulls together in what you can only call generosity. Like she understands your confusion; makes you wonder how often she goes through this schtick.

“Allow me to explain our predicament since you’re still new.”

And she does, in great detail, weaving a copper-scented tapestry with threads dyed the shades of suffering and heinous sin. In less pretentious terms, she regurgitates material you’ve only heard in passing. Hell is bursting at the seams with its substantial over population issue, one that only grows more exacerbated with each newcomer, and with limited real estate and even more limited resources the powers that be reached the conclusion long ago that a percentage just... has to go. Enter the exterminators, a team set out from the tippy topside whose sole purpose is to literally slash some numbers in half once a year.

Charlie doesn’t like this, in fact her exact words are “it kills me inside knowing that my people are being systematically annihilated” and honestly they kinda make you equate this to that of a speech from some representative- an authority figure, someone with power, which makes sense if this is her hotel. It’s pretty, the way she feels about the annual genocide, but you’ve yet to hear her alternative solution if she has any to begin with.

As the saying goes, actions do speak louder than words.

That’s when she genuinely explains the hotel’s purpose: to purge the demons of their vices, purify their souls, make right their wrong doings from when they were alive so that they can walk through the pearly gates as a reborn person, faultless and whole. Redemption. Rehabilitation. Because a hotel is only a temporary pitstop between two destinations.

The idea... makes enough sense, you guess.

“I mean, that’s neat, super admirable, and the whole idea of reforming demons instead of just- ya know- offing them sounds way better in comparison. But uhh- what does this have to do with me?”

“Well,” Charlie looks over at Vaggie before advancing her explanation, “you’re new. You haven’t regained your memories yet, your body hasn’t adapted yet, you still have your humanity- I mean you helped Niffty out of a tight spot without any expectation of a reward!”

“Nah, I just did what felt like the right thing at the time.”

“Exactly! We need someone like that here!”

Ah.

Now the picture has clarity.

What Charlie said earlier, “... if I can help just one demon find redemption here then everyone else will believe too!” that was merely another way of saying “we haven’t succeeded yet.” And judging by the way the hotel’s current residents, this motley crew of friends(?), they’ve been trying with people who have been here a lot longer than you have- you, a newbie that hasn’t gone through “the Change” yet, hasn’t full acclimated or been assimilated into the disgusting system of eternal suffering. Like they have. If redemption can be had here it’s more likely to be found with a newcomer like you, and if you can be saved then it’ll prove possible for anyone else.

At least that’s what you’ve surmised from the situation.

It doesn’t sit right with you though.

You did something topside to warrant your arrival here, or maybe you did a lot of things, or maybe you didn’t do enough, you don’t know and that’s the point. You don’t remember. There could be a mountain of skeletons shoved into your closet that you’re completely unaware of and until further notice that’s where they’re going to remain if they even exist.

You. Don’t. Know.

There are way too many unknown variables regarding your past- no, you’re very identity, and though you’ve been reassured on numerous occasions that that’s actually the standard here for newcomers... that doesn’t mean you deserve a second chance. Because who you were may not deserve it.

So don’t waste the room on a potential lost cause, is what you tell them.

“All the more reason to try it now before your memories can influence you.” Vaggie says in a firm voice, the very first you’ve heard her speak. 

And admittedly the logic is sound, you’re not trying to dispute that, it’s just... 

Not you- a clattering racket against the bar top- anyone else may deserve this opportunity- disrupts the conversation- but not you- and it takes all of two seconds to determine the source. It’s your phone, probably Mr. Terry announcing you officially dead to his business.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Still Vaggie.

As of right now, no, you really don’t.

“Residents can board here for free, you just have to stay clean- no sinning, at least as best you can.”

That’s not too bad, you think. Maybe you should-

No! No, one “good deed” doesn’t merit a shot at atonement. It’s not going to negate whatever it is you did to topside to leave you downside.

...but you’re more than likely out of a job now, one that barely paid enough to cover expenses to begin with, and losing your apartment is trailing not that far behind.

“What do you say, Newbie?”

“I-” the sudden dryness in your throat drags forth a minor coughing fit. “I don’t know if I deserve it.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Sacrifice comfort for survival, right?

You take a deep breath. “O-okay. Where’s the check-in sheet?”

____________________________________

a/u: mental health has been a bitch to deal with so i’m sorry that this took longer than i expected. i have half a mind to scrap this and redo it again but i’ma do this funky fresh thing where i stop overanalyzing it and put it out there for y’all to read. still no beta, and still no al yet, but we’re definitely getting c l o s e r, got this bitch all planned out and everything. y’all know the deal by now: like, reblog, and comment; the engagement makes my lil queer kokoro go doki doki

tagged: @kryptum-one @itz-kira @peachesandkats (i’m in love with all three of y’all, just letting you know)

[norcumii]

Regarding this post, and especially SOMEONE’S tags:

Dharma. DHARMA. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO COME ALONG AND MURDER ME WITH POTENTIAL FEELS? THIS IS SUDDENLY SO MUCH I DID NOT KNOW I NEEDED.

Just. Young Knight Kenobi. Maybe it’s canon, so it’s traumatized Obi-Wan trying to take care of a young prodigy, a Kenobi who doesn’t know where or how he fits into the universe and struggling with perpetual imposter’s syndrome (it was bad enough even before his knighting came at the expense of Qui-Gon’s life), trying so hard to be the best kind of Jedi (that he feels he never is). Or maybe it’s an AU, where young Knight Kenobi got booted out of the nest (maybe by being replaced with Anakin, or maybe just after surviving enough of Qui-Gon Jinn’s Shenanigans) – still uncertain, still struggling with the continued proof that he’s never quite good enough, never been chosen.

Then he meets CT-7567, who’s stiff and regimented, desperately clinging to the rules and regs because by some quirk of chance he’s just too far off the baseline. A mutant, visibly different, given CC training and responsibilities but never. quite. good enough by virtue of random genes. A Rex who maybe doesn’t even have a name, maybe hasn’t earned his Jaig eyes yet, a man who doesn’t dare step outside the lines but has the potential to be so much more.

And neither of them have grown into what they could be, men who come across as The Only Sane One in the room even as they’re daring madmen who are happy to dash into the teeth of the fight; tacticians and warriors who bend or break rules while still being the prime example of what could be.

I did not know I needed this, and @dharmaavocado​, I am fistshaking at you SO MUCH RIGHT NOW, because dammit, I don’t know how to write it myself!

[zayphyr]

sweetest thing

pairing: joshua hong x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none!

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

"I'm a leaking bloodbag with no purpose in life, you should stay away," you wail dramatically, your attempt to glance out the window disrupted by a very ungraceful sneeze.

you grab the tissue dangling from his fingers and sniff into it. he chuckles, shifting to sit facing you, one leg touching the cold marble floor.

"only once a month, and I volunteer all the cuddles and attention I can possibly give to make my favourite 'bloodbag' feel better."

you sniff again, followed by a series of coughs. your period's always had the most impeccable timing- before exams, right before flights, before presentations, and the lot. and, as usual, you've an exam the very next day and you have a terrible cold to go along with the pain and cramps. your multiple miserable attempts to cram the history of journalism into your head proved futile, and only ended with more tantrums of frustration and kicking the table away.

which is when joshua stepped in, sweeping the textbooks, scattered stationery and crumpled notes and tissues off the table and wrapping you up in a fuzzy blanket.

you're idly watching the tv screen when you feel his eyes on you, and hide your face with the sleeve of your oversized jumper. "stop looking at me like that, the movie's over there."

taking your sweater paw in his, he lowers your hand and pushes his face closer to yours.

"and what are you gonna do if I don't wanna stop?" he teases, lips quirked up in a teasing smile, eyes feigning innocence.

you glance at his face and immediately look away, your face getting unbearably warm.

"okay stop, really. you'll catch a cold too."

"hmm, I don't mind," he grins, turning your shoulders to face him, eyes sparkling.

"I have you to kiss it better."

your eyes flit- from the couch you're on, to the now forgotten movie playing on the screen, to even the ceiling- at anything but his pretty features. his hands cup your face, bringing your gaze to meet his.

"ahh shua, stop," you raise your arms to smack him repeatedly on the shoulders with your sleeve. laughing, he catches an arm mid-smack and pulls you closer as he falls back onto the couch, with you on top.

you nearly forget how to breathe as you take in his delicate features, almost glowing in the evening light. he looks up at you with just as much affection, if not more, eyes flicking briefly to your slightly parted lips.

"I- uh, I'll-"

you fumble and push yourself away, only for him to use your arm to pull you into his chest. you let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat ease your tired limbs as he rubs your back gently.

"you're the sweetest thing no matter what, and I'll always be right here, love."

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

yeS this was inspired by svt's sweetest thing!! y'all know I hAD to write for our starry eyed prince 💘 @extraterestirol, don't worry, stay tuned for the next post I'll make :))

[ernestsinclairs]

UNO - Raleigh Carrera x MC

Raleigh Carrera x MC (Ridley)

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

“And Raleigh Carrera seems to have gotten himself into another cheating scandal,” an overenthusiastic TV host crowed from behind his rather impressive desk. “This definitely has Twitter alight! The rogue star’s been linked to Ridley Greene over two years now. Who knows what’s going on now.”

Ridley groaned, throwing herself back against the pillows in a futile attempt to drown him out. Finding it useless, she pawed at the blankets in search of the remote before a warm hand pulled it away.

“Nothing’s going on anyways,” Raleigh scoffed. “People these days.”

“And for all the latest details on the cheating scandal, let’s turn to the lady of the hour herself!”

The television screen switched to a pouty lipped woman, Adrianna Ambrose, dressed in a skin tight dress with last season’s Yves Saint Laurent purse balanced precariously in sharp nails. She was pretty, Ridley admitted, if a Kylie Jenner aesthetic with a touch more botox was her type.

Hadn’t she signed up for this? Raleigh had been the most unattainable bachelor for years now, always seen with one night stands and short flings that refused to amount to much. This was bound to happen one day. Better now than never. 

“Here’s the tea,” she crowed in a too nasal voice. “I was over there in Cancún, and Raleigh Carrera was there too. I’m fine as hell. He’s fine as hell. So you know, we got talking, he got flirty, and boom. There’s that. I’m just going to say it got a little loud upstairs that night.”

Ridley snorted, suddenly unable to surpress the laughter. Beside her, Raleigh did the same, heaving his own amusement into the pillows before the two of them came up for air again.

“I’m glad that’s not true.”

“It could never be,” Raleigh mumbled before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I mean, I think we were both a little occupied that night.”

The incessant noise from the television died away, beginning to be replaced by more pleasant things. There was a variety to choose from. Harmonizing in the studio with her favorite backup singers, the pops of champagne with the crew after an exhausting leg of a tour, the sounds of tiny bells intermingled with the waves of a Puerto Rican beach. She chose the last one.

God, it had been such a beautiful time. There had been the soft white lace swishing just above Ridley’s knees as Raleigh hitched it up, bending her backwards in a delicate kiss in front of their most intimate of peers. There was the taste of sea salt and tiniest blush of vanilla wedding cake on his lips as the two of them embraced, the soft sinking of the sand in San Juan.

Thank god she had that memory. For as long as that was lasted, there was no way these allegations could be true. The same night that Adrianna had claimed to be shacking up with Raleigh in some resort, she had been marrying him in his hometown grounds.

The two had walked into the courthouse and beach pavilion as man and woman, and walked out as husband and wife. 

“I think we can let the speculation happen a little,” Raleigh shrugged. “I need a little time with just you anyways.”

“God, it’s like having one of those reverse Uno cards,” Ridley said, gesturing aimlessly at Adrianna’s reappearing face on the television screen. “All we have to do is send out a tweet, and boom.”

Raleigh paused, then stretched over to pluck her phone from the bedside table and press it into her hands.

“Do it.”

Ridley blinked in surprise, taking the phone but letting it drop onto the mink throw Raleigh had gotten her just last year.

“What? I thought you didn’t want to announce it yet.”

“Well, now that you bring up that idea, I just can’t resist,” Raleigh sighed dramatically, deftly putting in her own password for her. “Where’s the ring.”

Ridley twisted towards the bedside drawer, pulling out one of Zadie’s silk swatches that had been carefully swiped the just last week. It unfurled in her hand, and an almost comically large aquamarine set in platinum tumbled out. It was a beautiful stone, emerald cut, glittering in absolute perfection, and Ridley’s heart jumped into her throat as she slid it on again. She’d missed it, having taken it off just a few hours ago to attend a gala. Just a week had passed since she’d first been presented with it, yet it already felt like an extension of her.

“Say cheese!” she laughed, aiming the camera at her and Raleigh, her hand fluttering onto his cheek. The ring flashed ostentatiously, and she smiled as she saw the brilliant glint, still so fiery even in the confines of one tiny photo.

“Perfect, let’s get it done,” Raleigh said, quickly typing up a caption and pressing post.

“Uno?” Ridley asked, arching an eyebrow. “What makes you say that.”

“It’s a trump card. God, I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces.”

He pulled the phone from her grasp, setting it back down on the bedside table and enveloping her in his arms. Ridley gasped as he pressed a line of kisses down her throat, going ever so lower each time. She knew better than know to now these kisses weren’t chaste.

“But enough talk. I want some time with my wife now.”

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

@sinclaire-made-me-sin @lifeat314universe @isabella-choices @cora-nova @gonewithpersephone @foulcroissantknightpalace @xkinikilig @writinghereandthere @betelgeusebee @thepotatobleh @alwayslietohidethetruth @donknowhowtonamemyself @drink-of-paradise @poeticscolt @adricnraines @pixelberrytrash @buckett-harrington @sunattuned-vance @noeschoices @katie-sinclaire @makitokito @thequeenschoice @donutsgirl36 @myname-is-ehm @chanceisagoodboy @agentmilayawithshield @lightofcordonia @desiree-0816

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Hand in Glove - Chapter 21 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: I know y’all probs forgot about this, but I haven’t. Life has just been kicking my ASS relentlessly, but I decided to kick its’ ass back and here we fucking are. Took me about 4 months to finish, but it is what is it. Also, I am a bottle of wine and a half down and not sure how this is going to end up, but let’s pray to the gods that Tumblr ain’t gonna fuck shit up. Dropping mic now. 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3,  Chapter 4,  Chapter 5,  Chapter 6,  Chapter 7,  Chapter 8,  Chapter 9,  Chapter 10,  Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 , Chapter 15 , Chapter 16 , Chapter 17 , Chapter 18 , Chapter 19 , Chapter 20 

Word Count: ~fucktonK. Don’t judge me. 

Warnings: the usual? idk. Ben gets quite frisky, I’ll tell you that much. Also not sure how much of this was beta’d or proofread so fucking forgive me father if I have sinned.

The shrill sound of the alarm and Ben's low, gravelly swearing snapped Annie back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open in the soft light of dawn. She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand to shut the alarm off and look through her notifications. Ben stirred behind her, snuggling as close to her as he possibly could.

"Mornin'..." he murmured and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, Benny." Annie smiled when he pulled her in and engulfed her in his embrace. "It's too early."

"Frankie needs a walk." Ben yawned. "And you need breakfast."

"I can do both of those on my own."

"You can," Ben nipped at the curve of her neck, "but I won't let you."

The bedroom door edged open, revealing the tip of a snout poking through. A soft whine alerted Ben and Annie that Frankie had heard the two "magic words" Ben had just said - "Frankie" and "Walk" - and was making her presence known. Ben clicked his tongue three times and Frankie came scrambling onto the bed, her entire body swinging from side to side as her tail wagged. She dove right in to Annie's face, licking and whimpering excitedly.

"Oh God!" Annie shook her head from side to side, trying to escape the assault. Frankie had other plans. With a paw on Annie's shoulder, she tugged at her until she was flat on her back and climbed onto Annie's chest, pinning her down. "No! Stop!"

"Franks, I was actually hoping to be the one to give mum a morning snog..." he grabbed the dog and kissed her nose, earning a few licks for himself. "Aw."

Annie seized the opportunity to sit up and stretch her arms high over her head. She slouched down with a slow exhale and gave Frankie a rub behind her ears. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted Ben's Suitcase and duffel bag. She sighed and stood up, scratching her cheek as she marched over to the ensuite bathroom and flicked the light on.

"All done packing?" She asked as she examined her sleepy form in the mirror.

"Mhm." Ben shuffled behind her, pulling his sweats up over his hips. "I know, I'm a freak for doing it a week ahead of time."

"You're a freak for a whole myriad of reasons, Mr. Jones." Annie rolled her eyes and chuckled as she squeezed toothpaste onto her brush and then turned to Ben, who waited patiently with his toothbrush in his outstretched hand, nonverbally asking her to please put some toothpaste on his brush, too. "So you're that desperate to leave, huh?"

"On the contrary, my love." He winked at her and squeezed her bum before brushing his teeth.

Annie shook her head with a smile and leaned into his arm, resting her head against it. When they both felt their mouths were foamy enough, they took turns rinsing. Ben decided to finish this morning's ritual with a searing kiss.

"I plan on spending every waking moment that I have left with my girls." He mumbled against her lips before pulling away and walking to the toilet. Lifting the toilet seat up, he pulled his sweats down to his thighs.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"You're taking a piss when I'm right here?"

"Love, I've watched you give birth." Ben smirked. "Peeing is not half as nasty as that."

"Do you want me to watch you pee, Benny?" Annie smirked back, crossing her arms tauntingly. "Is that a sex thing?"

"Want you to?" Ben pretended to mull it over. "Nah. But if you want to hold it for me..."

"Freak." Annie scoffed and walked out of the bathroom.

"So no?" He called after her.

###

If there’s one thing Annie hated, it was not knowing where time went. One minute she’s shoveling eggs in her mouth in a hurry to leave for work, the next she’s got a baby attached to her boob again and it’s night outside. Annie walked into the bedroom, groggily rubbing her eyes after feeding Rory in the middle of the night. A full moon illuminated Ben, laying sprawled across her side of the bed.

"You stole my spot!" Annie huffed and collapsed onto Ben's side of the mattress.

Ben's arms quickly snaked around Annie and pulled her to him, squeezing her as close as he could to his body. He tucked her head under his chin and mumbled incoherently, wrapping a leg around her as well. Locking her in.

"Ben, I need air!" Annie squeaked against his chest and tickled his sides in a futile attempt to make him move.

"Shh." Ben pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "S'night time. No talking. Just sleeping."

"But oxygen!"

"No," Ben grunted and rolled over, right on top of Annie, careful not to put all of his weight on her. "Imma Human blanket now."

"Hey!" Annie flailed under him before giving up and relaxing, letting his body squish her into the soft bed. "Fine."

"Good girl."

###

Ben sat with Rory on his lap, both looking at the phone with goofy smiles on their faces. He'd just gotten the notification that Annie's series had posted a new story to the Instagram page, followed by a text message that simply said "show Rory".

The story was a boomerang of Annie in full costume, blowing a kiss at the camera lens. The next story was another boomerang, this time of Annie doing 'finger guns' and winking at the camera with her lopsided grin. Rory tried to grab the phone out of Ben's hands, babbling happily.

"So much for daddy-daughter time..." Ben murmured against Rory's soft tufts of blonde curly hair.

While he'd usually spend his day with Rory on Annie's set or with his mates, Ben decided that he needed some alone time with his baby. His departure was mere days away. Although on the outside he was his usual self, internally, he wasn't handling this too well. He knew Annie could sense that and he appreciated her efforts in trying to play it down and pretend everything's alright.

With a sigh, Ben turned the screen off and chucked his phone aside, much to Rory's dismay. She tried to crawl off his lap in pursuit of the device, but was captured and tickled by her father. Ben gently tossed Rory in the air, smacking a kiss to her cheek every time he caught her.

"You know what?" He cooed at Rory, who clawed at his face with her fingers. "We're going on an adventure! You wanna go see uncle Joey and uncle Gwil?"

At the mention of Joe and Gwil's name, Rory squealed. It was so high pitched, Ben couldn't help but blink in awe.

"Did Roger teach you how to do that?"

###

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm absolutely devastated." Joe lamented. "The mere fact that we only have a few days left is just -"

"I was asking Ben." Gwil rolled his eyes, interrupting Joe's rant.

"I'm fine." Ben shrugged and took a sip from his beer. Rory and Frankie played on the floor at Gwil's flat. "Gwil you have to duck, okay? You'll ruin the fort."

"Who's idea was this, again?" Gwil groaned, adjusting the corner of yet another blanket he managed to mess up. "Also, why are we in the fort?"

"If you're going to be grouchy, you can leave the fort, Mr. Lee." Joe stuck his tongue out at the tall man. "No grouchy people allowed."

"I'm not grouchy." Gwil retorted. "Plus, this is my flat, meaning that this is my fort, so I make the rules."

"You do realize that Rory is the actual baby here, yeah?" Ben raised an eyebrow.

###

"How are you feeling?" Mike asked between bites of ravioli during lunch break. "Jonesy all packed?"

"Mhm." Annie sighed and pushed the food around on her plate. "Got his passport extended today, too. Took Rory with him."

"Seriously?" Clara snorted. "He's taking her everywhere?"

"Yep."

"It's sickening." Jamie chimed in. "It's like they're siamese twins."

"Aw," Mikey drawled. "Bet he's gonna miss her terribly!"

"Do you think she'll even notice?" Jamie mused. "She's, what, five months old now? She just figured out she's got hands. She'll be fine."

"She loves her daddy." Annie poked Jamie in his side. "She figured her hands out two months ago, you knob."

"Could've fooled me," Jamie muttered.

"Don't be ridiculous, James." Mike pointed at his co-star with his fork. "She's going to daycare, she'll only see her mama in the early mornings and evenings. She'll notice there's an entire human missing."

"She'll have her uncles and aunties to keep her distracted." Clara winked. "Lucy and I already planned a whole Girls' Day."

"Um?"

"What?" Clara blinked innocently at her best friend.

"Why wasn't I invited?"

"Because you have more work than I do." Clara shrugged. "Gonna do it on my day off, Banana."

"Well, it's just you, Rory and Lucy, then?"

"Well," Clara looked at her plate sheepishly. "And Joe. And Rami. And Gwilym."

"What the actual fuck, huh?" Annie threw her fork down and huffed.

"Hey, you'll get to hang out with these two delicious chunks of mankind all day!" Clara smirked.

"Clearly, the superior chunks of mankind, mind you..." Jamie added, tongue-in-cheek. "We haven't had "us" time in forever, Banana."

"Don't you Banana me!" Annie hissed and turned to look at Jamie. He flashed her his best puppy dog eyes. "Oh, not the face."

"What face?" He feigned innocence.

"You know what face. Don't do the face."

"What," Mikey sighed, mimicking  Jamie's expression. "Don't you want to hang out with your own brother and husband?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

###

The next day was an entire mess. It started off well enough for everyone involved, really. It’s during the afternoon when things took a really, really bad turn. Ben tried to contain himself while Rory was napping, but his mind was racing. It was a chill day with "the band", as they now liked to refer to themselves.

None of them gave a second thought to the familiar sound of a notification rang through the living room. Then, it was dead silent for what felt like an eternity.

"Well, then!" Rami was the first one to break the silence, turning his screen off and tossing his phone on the coffee table. "Anyone see any good shows lately?"

"Ben? Buddy?" Joe shook Ben by the shoulder. "Dude, you haven't blinked in an hour."

Ben stared into space, his thoughts running wild. It was just a silly, candid, behind-the-scenes picture. Nothing more. However, he couldn't help the bubbling rage. There she was. His girlfriend, snuggled up to her ex-boyfriend turned reconciled-best friend. Her head resting on his chest, tucked under Jamie's chin. Her arm flung around his waist, his arms holding her close. One hand laced through her long hair. They looked so peaceful.

Ben knew how hard they worked. How tired Annie was all the time. How early she got up and how late she came home, trying to get as much work done while Ben was still around to be with Rory. He'd visit the set often, only to find her catching a snooze in her trailer. Stifling yawns between takes.

Yet he couldn't help but feel jealous. There was something beautiful and serene about the picture, especially when both Annie and Jamie were in full costume. The caption was what got to him most - "marital bliss".

"Mate, it's a picture." Gwilym brought Ben back to earth, cutting off his train of thought. "God knows, Clara had her pictures taken snuggled up to just about anything and anyone."

"Marital bliss?!" Ben sneered. "Marital fucking bliss?!"

"They're in costume!" Gwil retorted. "Those aren't Jamie and Annie. Those are Henry and Anne."

"That's Annie." Ben pointed at the screen. "That's how we always fall asleep."

"You're reading too much into this." Rami quipped. "Jamie isn't a threat to you."

"I'm going to be a continent away, while this arse is just lurking around..."

"He's engaged." Rami reminded him.

"It’s a bloody farce of a PR stunt and you know it just as well as I do. It's a sham."

"Why are you so riled up?" Rami's eyes squinted in confusion. "It's a stupid picture. They look pretty in it. End of story."

###

When Annie arrived later that night, Rory was fast asleep and Ben was losing his mind - slamming drawers and cupboards shut in the kitchen, cursing under his breath. He didn't even hear Annie come in.

Annie got a heads-up from Joe earlier that evening, letting her know that Ben had seen the Instagram picture. "He's definitely, 100%, not okay. Brace yourself."

"You alright?"

Ben's eyes shot up and looked at her. He wasn't just angry - he was positively fuming. Annie squared her shoulders, prepared for impact.

"I'm going out for a run." Ben muttered and walked right past her.

Annie followed him to the door, her arms crossed. Her brows knotted, she tried to figure out what to say. It was almost midnight. Ben never pulled an "Annie" before. He never walked out on an argument.

Before Annie could form a coherent sentence, Ben was out the door. She heard him stomping down the walkway, opening the gate. A shrill ringing startled her - he left his phone behind.

Annie took a deep breath and climbed up the stairs to check on Rory. After rubbing Rory's back gently and tucking her in, Annie went about tidying up. She picked up toys - baby's and dog's - and random articles of clothing. She straightened the sheets, organized the mail, stacked the coasters neatly. Anxiously waiting to hear the front door open again.

When it did, Ben walked right up the stairs without giving Annie an acknowledging nod of his head. She was prepared for an onslaught of accusations, but none came. Feeling perplexed, she absently followed him, wishing her stalking presence was enough to make him turn around to look at her.

It wasn’t. Taking his sweaty clothes off, he tossed them in the hamper and went in the shower, leaving the door open. Ignoring Annie's existence all together. Her guilt - not that she really knew why she should feel guilty - was quickly replaced with seething anger.

She stomped into the bathroom, stopping right in front of the glass shower doors. She glared at Ben, her hands on her hips. He started whistling and turned his back to her as he washed himself, suds forming on his skin. This wasn't just a cold shoulder. This was a butt-naked, frigid silent treatment.

"Are you joking?" Her voice bounced off the tiles. "Is this a bloody joke?"

"Had a good nap?" Ben snarled, still not facing her. "Looked refreshing."

"It was, actually." Annie raised a challenging eyebrow. "Woke up feeling recharged."

"Oh, yeah?" Ben turned the water off shook his hair. "Glad to hear."

"You're unbelievable." Annie scoffed as Ben reached for his towel and wrapped it around his hips. "How dare you?"

"How dare I?" Ben's eyebrows were so far up, they almost merged with his hairline. "I'm not the one snuggling my ex!"

"I also snuggled Clara!" Annie hissed. "Let me know when your little hissy fit is over, okay, love?"

"Fuck you, Annabelle." Ben loomed over her, his green eyes boring holes into her very soul. "This isn't a hissy fit."

"What is it, then?"

"I'm leaving, Annie. Leaving. In two days." Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "For months."

"I'm aware." Annie said through gritted teeth. "You're also coming back."

"Will I have something to come back to?" Ben opened his eyes. "You've already replaced me as your sleep-aid..."

"Have you gone absolutely bonkers, Ben Jones?" Annie barked out a laugh. "What are you on about?"

"I'm fucking scared, alright?" Ben hissed.

"Of what?!"

"You!"

"Me?" Annie's eyes were wide. "You're scared of me?"

"Annie, I'll be gone. You'll be fair game."

"I'm not some deer you can hunt!"

"I won't be here to protect -"

"Protect me?" Annie laughed, cutting him off. "From what? The Big Bad Wolf? Jamie?"

"Well, thanks for mocking me." Ben brushed past her, bumping his shoulder with her. "Real mature."

"Ben, you're throwing a fit over nothing!" Annie followed close behind him. Ben unwrapped the towel from his hips and dried off his torso. "I'm not mocking you!"

"We've been going through every aspect of me leaving." Ben chucked the towel to the floor. "What to do with Rory, what to do with Franks, when I'll be back for a visit..."

"I know." Annie sat down on the bed. "We've got this. We're prepared."

"Every aspect except our own bloody relationship. And all this time, you've been so calm about this!" Ben grabbed his head as he sat down next to her. "You've gone on a few benders, yeah, but even then - you were so calm."

"What?"

"Annie, I'm going crazy over this. I'm devastated. Freaking out. I don't want to leave." Ben laid back. "And you? You're acting like everything's fine. Having cuddles with your ex. Looking like…” Ben sighed and balled his hands into fists. “Do you even care that I'm going away?"

Annie took a shaky breath and shook her head, running a hand through her hair.

"You'll have Joe, Gwil, Rami, Clara, Lucy, Mike..." Ben rubbed at his eyes. "Jamie. I'll have no one."

"You know they'll leave for the press tour soon."

"Yes, which I'll miss out on." Ben chuckled bitterly. "You'll still have your own mates with you."

"You'll make new friends."

"I bloody know I’ll make new bloody friends, Annie, It’s not that!" Ben scoffed and mumbled incoherently under his breath. "See? This is what I'm talking about!"

"Huh?"

"It's like you're not even sad about it all!" Ben waved his hands about as he spoke. "You're out there, snuggling your cast-mates, working for hours on end, living your best life -"

"You think I'm not sad about this?" Annie spoke through gritted teeth. "Really?"

"Well, are you?"

"Of course I am!" Annie climbed onto his lap and straddled him. "Ben, are you having a psychotic break right now?"

"You're so cheery and positive and -"

"Because I didn't want to upset you!" Annie smacked his chest. "You blithering idiot!"

"Really?" Ben's voice oozed snark. "Seems like it backfired, no?"

"You're an arse." Annie smacked him again. "You're an idiot and an arse! Who on earth leaves his wi-" Annie huffed just as the word slipped her lips "-girlfriend alone with a baby for months?"

"Annie, stop hitting me!"

"No!" Annie punched him in the arm. "You wanted to see me upset? I'm fucking upset!"

"Annie!" Ben grabbed Annie's wrists and pulled her to him. She braced herself on her haunches to avoid head-butting him. "Stop. It."

"Do you honestly think I'd replace you?" the hurt in Annie's voice was evident. "Do you really think I'd go fuck someone else while you're gone? Jamie, of all people?”

She stared into his eyes, waiting for his answer, but there was none. Annie nodded and started to pull herself up, only to have Ben's grasp on her wrists tighten. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to pull away again. Ben restrained her, not taking his eyes off hers.

"Ben, let go." Annie's voice was low as she tried to shake her hands free. She stared down at Ben's hands holding her wrists.

"Look at me." Ben squeezed her wrists tighter. "Look. At. Me."

Annie fixed her eyes on him. His usually bright green eyes were clouded and darker, a mixture of sadness, anger and need. He bit his bottom lip as he lowered his gaze onto their hands. All of his sadness, all of his tension had finally reached a boiling point. A crimson flush crept up from his chest to his neck, his muscles clenching with ever jerk of Annie's escape attempts.

"Let go of me. Ben, I’m deadly serious. I hate you right now." Annie hissed, still tense under his grasp. Ben snarled at her choice of words. Annie noticed it and pouted tauntingly. "What, did that hit a nerve? Is that all I needed to say to get a reaction?"

"Shut up."

"Oh, poor Benny. Did I hurt your feelings?" Annie's voice lilted condescendingly. A vicious glint danced in her eyes. "Did you really think you could call me a cheater," Annie's voice was so sweet as she said that, "that you could call me a slag?"

"I never called you any of these."

"You didn't have to." Annie chuckled. "It was heavily implied. Especially when you didn’t even answer my bloody question.” Annie smirked bitterly, tongue in cheek. “So right now? I. Hate. You."

Ben felt as if his entire body is on fire under her. Pins and needles raked through his body, a tingle rushing over his naked skin as they stared each other down.

"Who in their right mind," Annie tilted her head to the side, "leaves their girlfriend and 5-month-old baby for three months and then has the balls to be paranoid about her moving the fuck on without him? Hm?"

Ben clenched her wrists tighter, his upper lip curling up.

"I know who," Annie murmured. "The same guy who'll fail to appreciate his girlfriend's efforts to keep morale high, even though she's hurting. The same guy who's so afraid she'll cheat on him when he's gone, for no fucking reason, other than his own fragile ego, it seems."

"Watch it."

"No, fuck you. Fuck being careful." Annie retorted. "What will it take for you to stop being an undercover jealous prick? Huh? What, do you actually need to mark me as your territory?"

Ben's cock involuntarily twitched at the thought, grazing the crotch of Annie's leggings. Making their eyes lock on each other again. Sending a flurry of butterflies loose in both of their bellies.

"Oh, you can't be serious." Annie scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable."

Ben licked his lips and made his move. Now that Annie was distracted, he used his body weight to roll them over and pin her down to the bed under him. His green eyes burned with raw need.

"Shut. Up." He grunted as she tried to wriggle her way out from under him while he held both of her wrists in one hand, up over her head. "Stop it."

Annie's breath hitched when Ben ground his hips into hers, his erection rubbing her inner thighs. He kissed her searingly and growled when she moved her head, pulling her lips away.

"Did I say you can move?" He whispered, his grip tightening on her wrists as his hand worked its' way to her legs. He kissed her again, physically taking her breath away, pushing her leggings down. She pulled back, gasping.  "Do. Not. Move."

"Air!" was all Annie could whine before his lips crashed onto hers again, muffling her moans.

"Do I need to punish you?" He whispered against her lips, his free hand snaking under her t-shirt. "Don't move. Be quiet. Don't want to wake the baby, now, do we?"

Annie shook her head slightly, looking up at Ben with big, doe eyes.

"Good girl." Ben cooed and nuzzled the crook of Annie's neck before pulling her shirt over her head, bunching it on her arms. "Do you hate me, still?"

"Mhm." Annie smirked.

"Guess I'll have to change your mind, then." Ben ground his hips down again.

###

After waking up all alone in their bed in the wee hours of the morning, Annie's sock-clad feet padded softly on the hardwood floor as she shuffled to the living room. She paused at the doorway, looking at the back of Ben's head. The soft, colorful light from the TV illuminated him like a halo. His head propped up on his closed fist, his arms on the back of the sofa.

Sensing her presence, Ben glanced over his shoulder and nodded his head, beckoning Annie to come to him. Smiling, she closed the distance between them and curled up on the soft cushions next to her boyfriend. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her onto his lap before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Baby monitor?" He mumbled against her hair and smiled when Annie reached in her hoodie's pocket and pulled it out. "Did she give you a hard time?"

"My arms are dead."

"She wouldn't let you put her down, then?"

"Does she ever?"

"Solid point."

"What are we watching?" Annie blinked at the bright screen in front of them and groaned when her face appeared on the screen. "Oh, no."

"I have a lot to catch up on, okay?" Ben tickled her sides as she buried her face in his chest. "I'm not sure I'll have time to binge on this while in Arizona, you know."

"Why do you need to binge on this at all?" Annie's muffled voice whined.

"Because." Ben shrugged.

"Right, then." Annie leaned back and grasped at the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. "You won't mind me binge-watching East Enders, then?"

"You do what you gotta do." Ben sighed and leaned forward.

He grabbed his cup of tea off the coffee table and took a long sip. Annie's gaze followed his every move.

"Ben?" Annie tilted her head as she bit her bottom lip.

"Yeah, love?"

Annie caressed his cheeks as a million thoughts stormed in her mind. A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

###

For the life of him, Ben couldn’t figure out how on earth it was night again. It seemed like everything was moving on double speed, nonstop. Exhausted, he laid sprawled on the bed like a starfish, with Frankie gently nibbling at his toes. One arm draped lazily over his eyes, the other tucked into his sweatpants waistband ever so slightly. The TV was on but on a low volume. Background noise.

He felt Annie's presence while his eyes were still closed, lurking at the doorway. He opened his eyes just a crack, enough to catch a quick glance of her face, and could feel his how his heart is breaking just from her expression alone.

"Don't give me that look."

Annie blinked and shook her head lightly as if her mind was an etch-a-sketch and she could just erase whatever thoughts popped up so Ben wouldn't see what they were. Considering that this very night would be Ben's last night at home, they both walked on eggshells, high on the tips of their toes.

"What look?" Annie asked sweetly and walked over to the bed. Ben stretched out his arms, inviting her in for a cuddle. "I wasn't giving you a look."

"Must've been imagining, then..." Ben mumbled with a sigh. He raked his fingers through her hair lazily, enjoying the warmth her body radiated. "Banana?"

"Hmm?" Annie purred and snuggled up as close as she could.

"I'm sad."

"I know." Annie propped herself up on one arm. “I’m sad too.”

“I need to you promise me something.”

“Ben, for the last time, I’m not going to cheat on you with Jamie!” Annie poked his side. “I swear, I’ll only cheat on you with Joe.”

“That’s not what I was going to say and you would never!” Ben grabbed her wrist gently. “Promise me you’ll always text me good night and good morning if you can’t call.”

“I promise.” Annie smiled.

###

“You know what?” Ben stopped in his tracks on his way to queue for his flight check-in, “I think I’ll stay.”

“The hell you are, Ben!” Annie moved Rory over to her other hip. “She needs toys! And  food! And diapers!”

“But Arizona is so bloody far!”

“Jesus Christ, not this again.” Gwilym chimed in and handed a bottle of Coca Cola to Ben. “Be a big boy, now, Benny.”

“God, I’ll miss you.” Ben sighed, his eyes closed.

“I’ll miss you too, babe.” Gwil replied instead of Annie.

“Do you two lovebirds need a minute alone?” Annie snorted. “I’ll miss you too, Ben.”

“And I’ll miss you the most!” Ben cooed and grabbed his baby, kissing every exposed inch of her skin.

“Thanks, love.” Annie sipped from his Coke. “I really appreciate that.”

“Ben, you’ll miss your flight, mate.” Gwil scratched his head as he looked at the huge departures sign. “You better hustle.”

“I’m staying.”

“Go!” Both Gwilym and Annie barked at him.

“I love you.” Ben murmured, his lips pressed to Rory’s cheek. “Take care of mum, yeah? Be a good girl?”

“Are you -” Gwilym tilted Annie’s head up to get a better look, “are you crying?!”

“Shut up!”

“Oh, fuck.” Ben’s eyes locked in on Annie’s face, prompting a wave of tears from his own eyes. “We said no tears!”

“Stop it, Ben!” Annie pawed at her cheeks to wipe off her tears. “No crying!”

“Goddamnit!” Ben hissed and shrugged one shoulder, wiping his tears on his hoodie. “Alright. Alright. No crying.”

“I think this is the perfect moment to separate the two of you.” Gwilym said, taking Rory from Ben’s arms and bouncing her on his hip. “Come on, children. Just like we practised.”

Annie leaped up and wrapped her arms and her legs around Ben, holding on for dear life. They kissed, one last time, their tears mixing together. Ben squeezed his girlfriend as close to him as he could and inhaled her scent as he pressed a thousand kisses all over her face.

“I’ll call you as soon as I land.” He whispered in Annie’s ear. “I love you.”

###

TAGLIST:  @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @qweenly @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @justgivemethekeys  @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod

[publisher021]

Unusually Silent

Prompt 24

Secret Injury

It's - okay, see, it's like this: Steve is in love with Tony. Literally every inch of Tony.

And let's be honest, there aren't a lot of inches, no matter what Tony says when he's feeling insecure about himself and his physique. (As big as Tony's ego is, his height is incomparable; he's like a tiny adorable kitten that's walking around in an expensive suit).

And so, as with everything, Steve loves the fact that he is the only one who gets to see Tony first thing in the morning. He loves seeing Tony wake up next to him, all sleepy soft and hair product-free, curls mussed and hanging over his eyes. He makes sure to have a pot of coffee already made and a mug waiting on the marble kitchen counter after his run for whenever Tony decides to stumble out of bed. 

However, his favourite thing about loving Tony is the fact that Tony feels as if he can come to him and tell him about his day, or the annoying intern who didn't get his coffee right, even though it wasn't his job to get Tony his coffee fix for that day. He loves that Tony feels as if he could vent to him whenever he was feeling frustrated with the board members after a meeting.

If he was completely honest with himself, he really just enjoys the fact that Tony talks to him. And really, Tony talks enough for the two of them most of the time. Which, when they first started dating, was a massive issue, not because he didn't like Tony talking, but because Tony would start talking to him, babbling and waving his hands in the air when he spoke of something that he was passionate about, only to stop mid-sentence and go completely silent.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that many of Tony's past relationships (if you can even call them relationships) weren't very kind to him. His past lovers liked Tony, but not enough to listen to him go off on a tangent on whatever interested him at the time. They preferred when he was quiet and only spoke when spoken to, not when he spoke at speeds too fast to grasp. 

It made his blood boil whenever he thought of Tony's past relationships. Especially because he knew that Tony was young and vulnerable and more than a little insecure enough to believe and fall under whatever coercion his past lovers had to have told him. They made him believe that they loved him, when in reality they only really loved the riches and fame that came with bedding a Stark. 

Which made his job - and no, he really didn't mean it to come out sounding like it was some sort of chore to be Tony's boyfriend, but being Tony's boyfriend was a full time job - so much more difficult, especially since Tony still held his old insecurities concerning his past lovers close to heart.

He had a ton of trouble when it came to convincing Tony that it was his job to listen to him. Because, if not him, then who else would listen to Tony? It was part of being Tony's boyfriend.

Also, he just really liked when Tony spoke. It never ceased to amaze him how Tony's eyes lit up and his hands made vivid gestures in the air whenever he spoke. Tony was like an excitable child whenever he spoke about things he was passionate about, and it often showed when he asked Tony to tell him about his day or what latest project he was working on.

And, after nearly two years of them being together - they had celebrated their first anniversary more than five months ago - he liked to think that he knew Tony well enough by now.

Which, is to say that he knows Tony quite well.

Well enough by now to see that something was extremely wrong with him.

He first noticed it when they finished their little street fight with Doom (he absolutely refused to call it a mission because to him, missions meant battling against their challenging enemies and blowing up their hideouts while staying hidden long enough to make it out and be on their way home on the Quinjet before their enemies even realized what hit them) and Tony had flown back to the tower without saying a word.

He supposed that the second clue was when he finally managed to get out of the shower and Tony was nowhere to be seen in the penthouse. When he'd asked JARVIS, all that the AI could tell him was that Tony was busy in the lab and would be out in time for supper. 

It wasn't unlike Tony to do something like that, except at least ninety percent of the time Tony slinks off to the lab after a mission (or a simple, yet monotonous fight with at least another person who just so happens to be frustrated with life and has now decided that villainy was the best route to take) and forgets to come up for supper. And to shower and sleep. Those are the times that he hated because he knows that Tony feels as if nobody should worry about him, because all his life nobody has ever made it so that he felt as if he should be worried and cared about. Except for Rhodey and Pepper. And the late Jarvis. And himself, of course.

So he shrugs it off and tells JARVIS to remind Tony that they'll be having supper with the rest of the team and watching a movie later. JARVIS assures him that the message would be relayed and he made his way down to his art studio to work off a little more of the adrenaline that was still coursing its way through his body. Unfortunately for him, the fight with Doom and his bots were of no challenge and was easily defeated, which meant that he didn't have an outlet for all of his energy. Painting helped relieve some of whatever pent up emotions or leftover adrenaline he had and it seemed like the best bet.

And then when it was time for supper and the takeaway boxes were all strewn about the coffee tables in the communal living room in front of the big screen and Tony still wasn't there, he went down to the lab to retrieve Tony.

"Tony, the rest of the team are upstairs waiting for you. Clint wants to start the movie already and is threatening to eat your Chinese if you aren't upstairs in the next five minutes," he says, walking down the stairs leading into the lab.

He immediately spots Tony in the centre of the lab, holograms splayed up in the air all around his head.

It's almost amusing to see when Tony startles, causing his hand to wave the holograms away before whirling around to face him. Almost.

What causes his amusement to fade, however, is how pale Tony looks.

His skin looks almost ashen in the artificial light of the lab and although the lights in the lab are probably only making it look more severe, Tony doesn't look… great, for lack of better words.

He looks tired. 

Exhausted.

When he mentions Clint trying to steal Tony’s chinese food and it garners absolutely no look of horror from Tony, the metaphorical alarm bells in the back of his mind start ringing. Because Tony always, always, always has something to say when it’s Clint who’s trying to steal his food. Tony’s lack of outrageous response that he always manages to make, paired with the pale complexion that now fills his form is what makes him do a double take.

Because something is immensely wrong.

He sees when Tony realizes the exact moment that he clued on to the fact that something was wrong because Tony tries to pull a face to show exactly how unhappy he is with Clint but it fails. All it does is fall flat and show how miserable he looks.

“Tony, what’s wrong?” 

Tony shrugs the questions off again and doesn’t answer him, just turns back to his floating holograms.

His nonchalant attitude just serves to worry him even more and he pushes for more information, anything that will tell him what is going on with Tony. His effort, however, is futile when Tony waves him away, and, almost as if feeling guilty (he should feel some guilt because it really hurt when Tony ignored him without even speaking to him), he blows him a kiss and shoots him a tiny grin over his shoulder. 

“Steve, it’s fine. Just- go upstairs and make sure that Barton doesn’t get his grimy paws on my chinese food. God, he’s like a freaking vacuum when it comes to food,” Tony says. The last part is muttered under his breath, but he hears it anyway due to his keen sense of hearing.

His abrupt change in attitude does little to ease the wariness that lingers, but because he’s a good boyfriend and he doesn’t want to push Tony too far - and sometimes being a good boyfriend means making sure that vultures like Clint can’t get to the other’s food - he moves to leave.

It’s not fast enough because just as he’s stepping over the threshold of the lab and the glass doors are sliding shut behind him, he hears Tony curse up a blue streak and a loud clattering as whatever tools were around Tony is knocked to the floor.

The sound is enough to make his blood run cold and he runs back through the now tiny opening of the still closing lab doors, halting it in its process of shutting behind him.

He’s met with the sight of Tony slumped on the floor, hunched over his right leg and body all tense.

“Shit, that hurts like a bitch. Dum-E, what have I told you about chasing after that damn ball? I said that you were going to trip someone and look what you do, tangle me up in your goddamn wires,” Tony huffs in irritation.

He crouches down next to Tony, who looks slightly stunned at seeing him still down in the lab and not upstairs defending his chinese food before going back to glaring Dum-E into submission. He takes a second to look at Tony’s oldest ‘bot and sees how its arm is slumped in regret. 

He turns back to look at Tony when he hisses in pain, hand hovering inches above his right ankle, which, now that he’s looking at it closer, is swollen and slightly bruised.

“Tony, what happened?” he asks. He winces when he listens to the sound of his own voice, hating how it comes out sounding more than a little exasperated and disappointed. 

Tony must’ve picked up on it too because if possible, he hunches over even more and pointedly avoids his eyes when answering him.

“I was doing maintenance on Dum-E and Butterfingers must’ve moved the ball harder than necessary because Dum-E chased after it and his wires got tangled up around me. It might not have been as bad if I hadn’t already hurt my ankle in the fight with Doom and his less than intelligent robots.”

He sighs, because what else was he supposed to do? This is exactly what he should be used to; Tony always refused to admit when he was hurt and would to try his absolute best to escape medical. Whenever he landed up in hospital, which was a rare occurrence, Tony always signed himself out, much to Rhodey, Pepper and his chagrin.

And now Tony was hurt.

And Tony didn’t tell him.

“Tony,” he sighs, “Why didn’t you just say something? How long have you been hurt? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Tony looks extremely guilty.

“I didn’t want to bother you and it’s not exactly the first time I've sprained my ankle," Tony says.

"Christ, Tony," he says as he takes hold of Tony's ankle, trying to be as gentle as possible. It looks bad, and, judging by how Tony keeps on shying away, it probably hurts just as much.

He feels around for any points of tenderness, gauging Tony's facial expressions and tries to move it slowly to check the range of motion.

When he moves it a little bit more to the right, Tony yelps, grabbing hold of his arm to stop him from moving his ankle around any further. He grimaces and moves his hands away, feeling guilty for causing Tony even more pain than he was already feeling.

Tony's ankle was extremely swollen, and although he might not be a medical doctor or have the same amount of medical experience as Bruce, he could at least tell that it was a grade three sprain from his time spent in the army.

Tony probably tore a ligament when he landed in the armour. He saw how hard Tony landed, and even though Tony hadn't said anything on comms during the fight with Doom, he'd heard how the rest of the team had commented on Tony's hard landing. It must've happened then.

It was a wonder that Tony was even standing when he came down to the lab earlier to tell him about supper. 

Now that he realizes it, Tony's silence was probably because of all the pain that he was in, and not because Tony was mad at him or avoiding him and the rest of the team.

The fight with Doom had been over eight hours ago and Tony had been in the lab ever since the fight was over. Which meant that Tony hadn't even put ice over his ankle. And from what he remembered, if your ankle was sprained, especially if it was as badly sprained as Tony's was, you'd have to use an ice pack or ice bath immediately for 15 to 20 minutes and repeat every two to three hours while you're awake. 

"Tony, I'm going to help you stand, and then we're going to medical so that we can sort out your ankle."

Tony scowls.

"I don't need to go medical, Steve. It's fine, I can handle a sprained ankle by myself. I'm a big boy."

"I'm not asking you, Tony, I'm telling you. And right now I'm not liking the way your ankle is swollen. Maybe if you'd told me about your ankle earlier then we could've forgone going to medical, but you didn't and now your ankle has swelled even more. I won't ask anyone else to help you, because I know you and you hate medical," he says as he grabs hold of Tony's waist and slowly lifts them up.

Tony leans heavily on him, face screwed up in pain and he hates the way a pained whimper escapes Tony's tightly sealed lips.

When they're finally standing, well, when he's standing, he decides to forget about helping Tony walk to medical; he's in too much pain.

So, ignoring Tony's complaints about not being carried, he hoists Tony up in his arms and leaves the lab.

He needs to get Tony's ankle compressed and elevated.

By the time he's done sorting out Tony's ankle, their Chinese food is long cold and the movie with the rest of the team is more than halfway, but at least they got to spend the rest of the night in bed together as they ate supper and watched a movie on the big screen in their room.

[norcumii]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-7567 | Rex Additional Tags: Rescue, Force Bonds, Is this how force bonds work?, Maybe - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Cody is sus, he knows whats up, Cody is a Good Bro, Hurt/Comfort, but very light Series: Part 2 of Force Bonds Summary:

“You didn’t know?”

“I never realized, no. I just…well I make it a point not to go around poking in other people’s heads. I suppose I never thought about why you don’t project.”

Cody smirked slightly, a shade of humor crossing his face.

“We were made for the Jedi, an Order populated by empaths. Shielding is one of our first lessons as cadets.

OR: [Obi Wan asks Rex to lower his shields and gets more than he bargained for.]