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macgyverbooks · 1 year

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Dragon Age: Inquisition FanFic

The Lies In Which We Linger - Chapter One

Summary: As Aza struggles under the weight of the Inquisition and her growing responsibilities she finds solace in the arms of a fellow Qunari. But not all is well in Thedas, as the threat of breach grows, old enemies from Asa’s past to threaten everything she’s built.

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: None

The gob of spit landed squarely on my boot. Suspiciously yellow it dribbled into the cracks of the flagstone in a thick ooze

“Ox-bitch,” I glanced down at the owner of the spit who snarled from under his Andrastian helm. He stood straight and proud in his polished armour, chin raised and jutted foreword with aggression.

The Valo-kas to my right didn’t move, not even bothering to acknowledge the slight. Holding my stare the muscles in the soldiers neck and shoulders tightened in preparation. He was young, almost too young. A few pale yellow whiskers sprouted from his chin as a feeble attempt at a beard while his skin remained smooth and unmarked bar the angry red of his cheeks against the cold. The boy leered showing crooked teeth eyes flashing with male pomp like a skinny cockerel fluffing its feathers daring me to respond. It was going to be a long day. Remaining silent I resisted the grin that tugged at the corner of my mouth and looked ahead readjusting the grip on my simple stave.

The view truly was lovely. A panoramic vista of snowy mountains and wooded valleys with an immense clear blue sky above. If you squinted you could almost make out the herd beasts slowly making their way along the slopes below snuffling through the snow for roots and old grass.

From my vantage point on the parapets I had a good view of the main gate of the Conclave as a river of people flowed through. Even from this distance I could make out the many coloured garbs from across Thedas. Every now and then I could even spot the telltale tall and broad body of a Qunari topped with their great curving horns. More than likely they were only bodyguards or soldiers but the excitement of seeing so many my kin in one place was still thrilling.

An angry stomp of an armoured boot brought my attention back to the little boy.

“Oi, you hear me goat face? Or are you as deaf as you are ugly?”

Mulling over my options I glanced about checking for any other Guardsmen but non were about. He was small and no doubt light, a simple kick and I could send him neatly flying over the balustrade and tumbling down to the rocks below to meet his precious maker but I thought better of it. We were, after all under special instructions to “make nice”.

Sending a withering look to my right I dropped my chin letting him feel the full force of my attention as I stared down unblinking. Gripping my stave I let the crackle of magic fizzle around my fingers. Stinking of ozone and singed wood I leaned over him, baring my sharpened teeth and growled.

“You say something, Imekari?”

Turning even paler the boy soldier bolted with an undignified whimper. Straightening up I listened to his boots clomp away and sighed again.

“They get younger every year,” I muttered.

“You’re losing you’re edge, Aza.” The Valo-Kas to my right mumbled, “you would have flung him off the parapet not so long ago.”

I chuckled and leaned my stave against the wall readjusting my pauldrons, shrugging the tension from my shoulders.

“Not so long ago Meraad, you would have beaten me to it.”

Meraad shook his head, his twisted ivory horns exaggerating the motion

“You insult me” he huffed. I raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “He was too small, there would be no challenge.”

Ignoring my look he dug in his pouch producing two pipes and a small bag of tobacco. Packing one neatly he handed one to me then packed his own

“If you could do the honours” he grinned as I rolled my eyes at him.

“Only cause its you,” with a snap of my fingers a flame leapt to life dancing about like a mad firefly lighting both pipes with a flick of my wrist.

Leaning against the stone balustrade looking out over the mountains puffing sweet smoke it was almost romantic. Had it not been for the armour and weapons at our hips.

Taking a deep puff I blew it out into the wind watching it twist and swirl away. Without letting myself really think about it I lent gingerly against Meraads broad shoulder, testing the waters, fully expecting him to pull away. He didn’t. In fact he leaned into me in return, staring straight ahead. Satisfied I allowed myself a small smile, fiddling with the stem of my pipe.

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Meraad rumbled still staring out at the mountains. “We’ve still got a lot to talk about, you and I.”

A ball of emotion squeezed my throat and I had to clear it a few times before replying lightly

“Allow me one small victory.”

He grunted in response. Turning his head in a sweep of his board horns he glanced at me and grimaced, the corners of his full mouth pulled down in thought as he seemed to wrestle with his words. Opening his mouth to speak a single shriek of fear echoed from somewhere deep down in the conclave.

Both of us jerked upright on full alert heads on a swivel trying to pick up anymore sounds. The terrible cry came again, this time filled with pain. Hairs on the back of my neck prickled as tiny almost imperceptible shock waves of foreign magic began pulsating beneath my feet echoing up through the thick stone walls. Oh, that’s not good. Grabbing his shoulder I motioned to Meraad quietly

“I’m heading to the eastern stairs. Alert the Captain of the guard and start perimeter sweep with the others, now!”

Turning to leave I stopped when Meraad grabbed my wrist and pulled me close letting our foreheads gently knock together

“I will meet you at the campfire tonight,” he whispered “for that talk.”

At that he left hurrying around the corner to the steps leading down into the main hall. Staring after him I couldn’t help feeling hope bloom in my chest. He wanted to talk, after all this time he was finally ready. Turning to take a more direct route down through to the library and more private chambers of the Conclave following the steady thrum of magic I couldn’t stop the smile. Nothing could ruin this day. Nothing.

— A few weeks later —

Sat uncomfortably on the too low chairs I tried not to stare as the delicate elven barmaid served Cullen another beer. She hid behind her serving platter all blushing cheeks and doe eyes while Cullen, still suited up in his bright armour and fur mantle laughed and rubbed the back of his neck at her bashful tittering

Rolling my eyes in a painful groan I felt the pit of my stomach twist with embarrassment. Like I even had a chance. Glancing over I made the mistake of comparing myself to the beautiful elf. Where she was short and dainty I was long and broad. Her bright clear face only marked by the delicate lines of her tattoos, or Vallaslin, while mine was freckled, weather beaten and tattered with scars, some small some not so small. Running my tongue over the corner of my mouth I felt along the raised line of scar tissue that ran from eyebrow to chin, cleaving my lower lip on its way, and frowned swirling the dregs of my ale. I don’t know why I’d allowed it but my traitorous, stupid heart had leapt at the mere sight of the sweet and oh so charming commander. Like the hero in some star spangled folk tale he had appeared and like some idiot I had tried to flirt with him. What I had forgotten was that I more resembled the evil creature in the woods than the love struck, doe eyed heroine.

Not that my motives had been entirely pure. I’d wanted a fling, something light and inconsequential that wasn’t going to haunt me later. A chance to feel close to someone again. Perhaps it was a poor attempt at consoling my damaged pride but, after some time observing the commander I had decided he wouldn’t appreciate the occasional one nighter. In fact the more I’d thought about it the more he seemed like the settling down type, the kind who would’ve picked out kids names and drapes by the morning after. Maybe I was a closet masochist, at least that would explain a few of my horrific life decisions and downright inappropriate taste in men.

An image flashed through my mind like a ghost. A frozen scene of Meraad tending to the campfire looking over his shoulder with a grin tugging at his mouth. Shivering I shoved the memory aside and downed the last of my drink. Drowning out memories had become a habit of mine over the last few weeks. It was unfortunate the weaker human beers and ales were hardly enough to get me tipsy. Dropping some coins onto the sticky table I shuffled out, sidestepping around the crowd of drunk soldiers and servants.

Out in the cold night air I breathed deep letting it out in a great puff of vapour. Like a dragon I thought with a somber smile. Hushed whispers to my left had me ducking my head, my shoulders tensing up as the three sisters bowed muttering “go in peace, Herald of Andraste” as I passed. Offering a tight lipped grimace of a smile I moved away quickly, heading for my quarters.

Herald of fucking Andraste. What a joke. Not that it really mattered what I thought. Soon as someone figured out I wasn’t deliberately trying to blow the sky open the rumours spread like wild fire. Prophetic. Messiah. Heaven sent. It was enough to make my skin crawl. Even worse was the way they looked at me, staring up in either wide eyed wonder or deep sneering suspicion. I wasn’t sure which one I hated more. At least Varric is here I thought, skirting past his tent were a small crowd had gathered, no doubt wanting to hear his stories.

The dwarf had appeared from nowhere with enough suave confidence to think he’d seen this all before. He was gentle if sarcastic in his manner and had quickly gained my approval much to Cassandra’s exasperation. With his sharp eyes and clever tongue I was keen to keep him around, though I sensed there was much more going on with him than he let on. Split loyalties could prove problematic if this “inquisition” grew anymore momentum.

Approaching my temporary home I paused noting the door was open a crack, warm candle light spilling onto the snow. Old instincts rang in my head like an alarm and I approached warily, hand on my daggers before I could really think it through. Nudging the door open with a boot I cast my gaze about only to jump back, ripping the curved blades from their sheaths as a small figure dashed around the corner and through the door in a flurry of gold and purple.

“Oh!” Josephine gasped, stepping back and nearly dropping her note board as her back connected with the door frame. Sighing in relief I quickly replaced the blades and raised my hands placatingly

“Sorry, sorry,” I muttered, curling my shoulders and bending at the waist so I was closer to her eye level. “Thought you were a thief or something.”

“No need to apologise Herald,” Josephine waved airily, straightening her pristine gold cravat. Herald. I winced at the title, just use my name I wanted to say but I bit my tongue and nodded instead. “I was only dropping off some papers for you to look over.” If Josephine had been anyone else the following beat of silence would have been awkward. Instead she smiled, having to crane her neck up despite my efforts. “It is late, you should get some rest while you can. Tomorrow will be busy and we will need you at your best.”

“When is it not busy,” I grumbled light heartedly with a polite smile, noting the way Josephines eyes flicked down to my mouth, my sharpened teeth no doubt catching the candle light. Shit. Though technically similar in structure to ours I found humans soft, fleshy faces difficult to read. I never knew how to judge their reactions and Josephine was no different, she was just more forgiving about my confusion than most, though the fact she and Leliana could manipulate their faces so easily still alarmed me. At least Cullen and Cassandra were more verbal and plain about their feelings though, in Cassandra’s case, I sometimes I wished they weren’t. Despite all that I noted the minute widening of her eyes at my feral smile, the way she raised her note board a fraction higher. Damn it.

“There is someone here to see you, Herald.” She continued breezily, “They’re waiting for you by the Chantry.”

Clamping my mouth shut I nodded, waving goodbye as Josephine disappeared into the biting winter night, the strange metallic fabric of her puff sleeves reflecting the cold moonlight. Turning toward the great stone hall I couldn’t stop the small shake of my head at the absurdity of my situation. Me of all people rubbing shoulders with templars, ex-royalty and ladies of foreign courts not to mention the multitudes of holy men and woman. A shiver ran up my spine thinking of the conversations with Lelianna in her tent. Her eyes razor sharp with intellect while she pondered and muddled over her words like a mad zealot, grappling with her faith. The awful way she had stared as I floundered for an answer to her questions, my face screwed up into a pained wince just remembering it. It was becoming a terrifying trend in my advisors, them asking for advice and me fumbling under the pressure. Wasn’t it supposed to work the other way round? And what did they really expect from me, some kind of divine wisdom just cause I survived a fucking explosion? I shook my head, that wasn’t it. For all their niceties the questions smacked of judgment, clumsy attempts at testing my character, drawing me out with their tales only to slap me with a moral dilemma and see what I’d do.

Solas was a fucker for it. I’d stood in child like rapture as he spoke of his experiences moving through the fade, what he’d seen and heard, the spirits he’d spoken with. He spun the stories in his gentle voice lulling me into a false sense of security only to pose an innocent question, then snark at my response. Bastard. All of them bastards. Everyone working so hard to put the world back together and stuck with me to lead them. Poor, poor bastards.

Approaching the hall I spied a soldier, a mercenary most likely, waiting by the doors. His armour though battered from use shined reflecting the last of the evenings sun. He was handsome I noted, short but stocky with close cropped brown hair and a soft unmarked face, not your typical looking merc for sure.

“You the Inquisitor?” He asked in a flat, matter-of-fact voice, his eyes looking me up and down.

“Depends whose asking,” I replied, eyeing him in return

“We’ve got word of some Tevinter mercenary’s out on the Storm Coast,” he continued unfazed. “My commander, Iron Bull, offers the the information free of charge.”

Containing a snort at the name, I folded my arms instead and tutted

“How gracious of him, but I doubt anything is for free. What does this Iron Bull want?”

“An interview. Come to the Storm Coast and see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition.”

Shaking my head I turned to leave. Any idiot with a sword can claim to be a mercenary and in all my time with the Valo-Kas I’d never heard of the Bull’s Chargers. I wouldn’t waste precious resources chasing what are most likely unskilled peasants with more bravery than sense.

“There is no shortage of mercenaries wanting to join our cause, I don’t have time to-“

“We’re the best you’ll find.” The merc stated. Glancing over my shoulder I squinted at him noting the lack of pomp or anger, just his plain stare meeting my gaze steadily. He wasn’t lying. “Come to the Storm Coast, see us in action, then decide if you need us.”

My lip curled at the wording but I nodded, grudgingly impressed by this soft spoken man.

“Fine.” I conceded with a tired sigh, “tell your Iron Bull we’ll be at the coast in a few days.”

At that the Merc nodded and left, walking off toward the ale house without so much of a backward glance.

Closing the door of my quarters I poured over the new paperwork Josephine had left. A scout report caught my eye detailing a particularly nasty fight that had broken out in a village in the Hinterlands between the mages and templars, only a few had escaped. It twisted my stomach just how fast things turned to shit. Everyday reports streamed in from every corner of new rifts opening, demons spotted in one place after another, missing people and rogue mages and templars causing havoc. That first trip through the Hinterlands still hung over me. So much death and destruction and not a damn person to stop it. Still despite it all my heart lifted at the prospect of going to the Storm Coast despite my doubt. I hadn’t seen the ocean since I was a girl. With a sigh I stood and grabbed the report needing to organise a few things before I went to bed. Time away from the Haven was time well spent and I was anxious to be out from under the many eyes of this place.

—

“This is bullshit.”

Varric cackled. “Not a fan of the rain, Lucky?”

“Rain. Rifts. Templars. Demons. Fucking giant spiders.” I listed staring down the beach, “what else am I forgetting?”

“Darkspawn.” Solas added dryly.

Nodding I hooked my thumbs into my belt and sighed. It had been one shit show after another, first the Hinterlands then that mess at Val Royoux and now this gods forsaken coastline. Looking down the beach from our little base camp the rain pelting down my neck all I wanted was to crawl back into bed. After the long gruelling trip over here, slogging through knee high mud and fighting off bandits we’d arrived cold, wet and tired and I’d stupidly spent most of the night going over notes, replying to messages from Scout Harding and looking over acquisition demands from Quartermaster Threnn. Now an ache had settled between my shoulder blades from hunching over my too low desk as exhaustion dragged at my eyelids.

Below the sounds of fighting echoed up the beach, the clanging of swords cutting through the roar of the waves that battered the rocks. Taking a long breath I nodded at Cassandra and started down the rocky slope. Scout Harding had let us know the Bull’s Chargers were waiting on the beach but I’d let them sit for a few hours, instead heading out to find the few rifts that had been reported on. Demons had felt more important at the time but now I regretted the decision, after being blown off my feet by a fire demon and attacked by giant spiders I was in no mood to play diplomacy with a bunch of mercenaries. Plus my hand ached, the throbbing going straight to the bone as the sickly green light flared and arced.

“Here we go,” I muttered under my breath as we emerged onto the beach right into the fray. Charging ahead I ripped my blades from their sheathes and tore into battle, all weariness forgotten, my blood singing. This I could do, rip and tear till the job was done. The simplicity appealed to some base part of my nature, the part that wanted to smash heads when some snotty peasant sneered “Oxman” to my face.

Plunging my daggers in the neck of a Tevinter a shadow loomed over my shoulder. On pure instinct I spun and raised my blood soaked blades braced to be blown away by the massive arc of the war axe that sang through air like quicksilver. Feeling the whoosh of air tussle my braids I lowered my knives an inch in surprise. At my feet lay a tevinter who’d been creeping up on me twitching in pool of blood, an axe imbedded in his spine. Glancing up and up and up I squinted at the massive Qunari, his broad horns and even broader shoulders blocking the weak sun.

“Well hello, Inquisitor!” The Iron Bull said with a blood splattered grin.

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izunaposting · 1 year

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What are ur favourite kitties names?

i got a stress migraine from this so bad i threw up in my lap and sent nii-san into a panic. how can i choose ONE favorite cat?! i love all kitties! every single one. from their pointy ears to the tips of their fluffy tails. and even if they are missing those parts i still love them forever and ever. so because i am benevolent and ever so gracious, i am going to bestow upon you the gift of my entire list and their colorings.

Mister Sprinkles (male tabby, and i raised him since he was a baby and now he's an old man, so he gets first place, also his name must be properly capitalized. he gets this honor)

rocket (female tabby)

lil housefly (male tabby)

prince tangelo (male orange)

lil biscuit (female siamese)

popo (male black cat)

pipi (female black cat) (they're kitty married)

bruce lee (male forest cat)

chiyome (female calico)

chibiko (female tabby)

chibita (male tabby) (they're siblings)

purple (male shorthair)

green (male shorthair)

orange (female shorthair)

orange II (female orange) (no relation)

rice ball (male flamepoint)

celery stick (female flamepoint)

carrot stick (male orange)

burnt cabbage (female black cat)

potato head (male persian) (i TNR'd these five on one trip so they got food names)

don quixote (male bobtail)

turtle (male tabby)

baby mushroom (female tabby, still a kitten)

autumn leaf (female calico)

kamakiri (male tabby)

kingyo (female orange)

valiant warrior (female black cat)

sinister advisor (male shorthair) (they're a bonded pair)

THE TORMENTOR (male russian blue) (all caps necessary. he's fat)

sukiyaki (female calico) (she had the following litter so they got ingredient names)

negi (female black cat)

shiitake (male black cat)

shirataki (female calico)

konnyaku (male orange)

tofu (male orange)

the obelisk (male russian blue) (my oldest male after Mister Sprinkles) (also fat)

nico (female himalayan)

spicy soy sauce (male black cat)

her majesty's stink (female orange) (she stinks!)

gravy tugboat (male tabby) (REALLY fat)

dandan from the garbage can (male... something... he's always so dirty from rustling through the waste bins)

zebulon (male siamese)

dirt (male black cat) (found him in a garden)

okay he is not technically mine EVEN THOUGH I SAW HIM FIRST, TOBIRAMA, but ichirou (male flamepoint) (REALLY original. idiot)

operation cuteness (female ragamuffin)

operation beautiful (female birman)

dentures (or denko for short) (female calico) (she had all of her teeth pulled due to a condition)

tripod (male tabby) (just guess why that's his name. thanks nii-san)

fu manchu 2 (male himalayan) (LONGEST whiskers i've evar seen, and constantly dripping with some form of wet food sauce)

home improvement (male shorthair) (he likes to claw everything. do not engage unless you are me!)

madara junior (male black cat) (obviously) (he looks like if nii-san was a cat)

poophead (female birman) (kagami named her this...)

cyclone (male orange)

vortex (female orange) (no relation, just TNR'd the same day)

jamba juice (female lykoi)

bodhisattva (female calico) (my oldest calico in the crew!)

snail (male tabby) (he has a spiral pattern on him. he's mito's obvious favorite. i wish my cats would stop being traitors to the treacherous senjus!)

sennosuke (male lykoi)

the four elements (female calico)

assorted ambient works (female tabby)

cheese (female shorthair)

crackers (male shorthair) (also kitty married)

stinkmaster (male black cat) (he's actually clean but he's MEAN)

the angel (female siamese) (also mean, but in a judgemental way)

torch (male orange)

flashlight (female orange) (his daughter)

booger sugar (male flamepoint)

the stonemason (male persian) (his favorite spot is a high wall)

the bricklayer (female persian) (they're a bonded pair)

ghost rider (male flamepoint) (my most recent TNR)

lieutenant (male forest cat)

commander (female forest cat)

baby wolf (female lykoi) (another kagami effort...)

nokia (male tabby)

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destinyclan · 7 months

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Before Moon 0 (5/8)

"This is foxdung!" Cranepaw heard her clanmate hissing next to her, as Tempestpaw briefly parted ways with the cats to claw at some defenseless tree. "A big, stinking pile of foxdung!" Cranepaw looked ahead. It seemed as though their mentors werent paying them any mind, Tempestpaw's in particular marching away in a righteous manner.

"At least this way we wont have to clean up the mess afterwards." Cranepaw joked, but was met with a furthermore annoyed rebuttal.

"They are so weak right now! What are they going to do, splash water at us? It would be a victory as easy as rolling up a mossball!" Saying this, Tempestpaw run her claws through the moss underneath her paws.

"But that's the thing, isn't it?" Cranepaw began, whilst pawing at the piece of moss Tempestpaw ripped out prior. "What are we gonna do with a puddle territory? Besides, if we have a battle that means extra cleaning duties for the medicine den because of the injured." Her pelt shuddered.

"I wouldnt get injured!" Tempestpaw's pelt bristled up in defense.

"Sure ya wouldn't."

They hurried to catch up with the rest of their Clan once their little playtime was over. At least, Cranepaw figured, since their mentors missed out on their conversation, they wouldn't get scolded again. Usually clan gatherings were pretty fun, getting to brawl with other apprentices never gailed to get a kick out of Cranepaw, but tonight would be tense. She could already feel it when their leader announced that it was time to get going. Warriors were whispering erratically among themselves while on the way, and though the leader shut down any discussions about the matters at hand, Cranepaw knew he couldnt control it once the clan had reached the clearing, he didnt exceed his authority as powerfully anymore. At least she heard so from a clanmate.

And right she was, now that the other cats noticed their arrival in the moonlit spot, they were all greeted and promptly washed over with questions. Cranepaw and Tempestpaw hurried away from the crowd to the more secluded area of shrubs. The favourite spot for the apprentices to meet up, complete with a sandy patch to brawl in. Familiar faces popped up, purred greetings and made fun of the adults, as usual. It really did seen that over here, the world was the same it had always been. Until Cranepaw noticed how much... emptier it felt here. Foolishly she asked, and was met with an uncomfortable silence.

That doesnt have to mean anything, she thought, after enduring the silence for a bit, Myrtlepaw was one moon shy of being a warrior anyway, and the others are probably just...

She gazed around. Nothing, not a pelt or tail or pair of eyes she remembered from lurking in here for the past 3 moons. She shut her train of thought up promptly, wrapped her tail around her paws and stared up into the trees. For the first time, wishing the leaders would begin soon.

Her leader, Billstar, officially opened the gathering, telling the clan cats about the arbitrary recent events in their clan. Cranepaw noticed one of her cross-clan pals roll their eyes once the leader uttered the all too well-known phrase. Cranepaw began mouthing it along, "Prey has been running well", making the other cat purr. The leader went on to mention the recent litters, as well as Flitstorm gaining her warrior name a moon early for her exceptional work. The clan cats called her name out into the night as she rose from her seat, basking in the moment. Cranepaw, however, turned her head away and did not join the celebration. Flitstorm was just lucky her mentor was the deputy, she thought. And that he never saw how she treated the rest of her denmates. 'Hard worker' my whiskers, she's just a bully! She didn't get how the other cats were so invested either. But as soon as the final leader of the night stood up, she did: it was so that every cat could distract themselves from the moment ahead of them.

Primrosestar had never quite looked like a proper leader to Cranepaw. Too short, much more like a feisty kitten than a warrior cat. But tonight, she looked downright awful. Starved to a miserable figure, pelt wild and torn, and were those fresh scars on her back? She was shaking as she spoke, as though raising her voice was too hard for her. Nonetheless, she asserted that, which every cat had denied could be true: that their clan was doing fine, despite the uprise in floods. Skeptical gazes eyed her, both from the crowd and from the cats sitting in the tree with her. Billstar chimed in, jsut as all chaos was breaking lose in the sea of cats below, as they whispered and mumbled frantically. But any and all questioning of her claims just agitated Primrosestar further. Anotehr leader joiend in, making much more damning claims about seeing first hand the destruction that took place. This gathering was beyond help, from what the apprentices were seeing, and the chaos reached them too. Cranepaw heard two of them argue behind her, Tempestpaw seemed to want to join in with simialr claims she made before arriving here. But then an ear piercing howl from above all of them brought an abrupt end to the ruckus.

Everyone turned to look. Above the leaders, on a higher branch, stood two cats, an orange tabby and an orange and silver tabby, one staring down with a determined, yet nervous look, and the other just coldly glaring ahead.

"Grouseflood, Tempesthaze, what in StarClan's name are you doing?! Get down from there, this is blasphemy!" Primrosestar screeched, but the cat didn't seem to listen to her. She took a visible breath, gazed over to the other cat, and began speaking:

"Cats of all Clans! I come to bring the truth to you, and a message from StarClan." All ears perked up, nobody seemed interested in talking anymore. An eerie silence broke out, as this cat paused for a mere heartbeat before continuing.

"You may know me, or maybe not. My name used to be Grouseflood. A name I was given because I always knew just what to do whenever the waters were rising. And StarClan has chosen me for a destiny, perhaps precisely for that reason."

"Primrosestar speaks of a normal clan life, but what we experience in our camp is anything but normal. From the day I was born, I got used to losses, especially those at the hands of the floods. But I was never taught that the floods would some day come home and take everything from us. We don't simply drown, we have nothing to eat! We starve! We have all but one elder left! All but one kitten left!"

Though further away, Cranepaw could see the glint of light reflected from her claws, as she dug them into the branch. The silance had not stayed for long, cats began more or less breathing out words to each other.

"I am the last cat who would run away from a problem! StarClan has not chosen me to run, but to seek. Last night, in the presence of our medicine cat Tempesthaze, I was given nine lives. I am now Grousestar, leader of a new era!"

Cranepaw flinched. She seemed to be experiencing a deja-vu, as now the gathering took upon volume levels close to before when Primrosestar was giving her speech. Speaking of Primrosestar, she seemed to yell something incoherent, as she tried desparately to get the orange tabby to shut up. Billstar prevented her, though mostly because she almost seemed to fall off from the branch with her poor sense of orientation.

"StarClan needs me to form a new Clan! They have shown both of us the way to a new territory. Only then will the storm end and all clans will be safe!" Grousestar spoke, with a certainty that amazed Cranepaw. She had never seen any leader speak so assuredly. Was it the power of StarClan?

"We encourage cats to come along with us, but understand if you wont. Our journey begins toward the end of our territories." She pointed her tail toward the opposite direction of Cranepaw's territory. "We will see you all at the next gathering. Until then, take care of yourselves."

The two cats climbed down, on the other side of the tree. The second Grousestar's voice died down, Cranepaw couldn't hear a thing anymore; it was so loud now, all the arguing, the conversations these ctas were having. She shook her pelt, daring one last gaze at the tree before turnign back around to the secluded shrubs. It lookedl iek Billstar still held onto a very enraged Primrosestar, and the cat named Tempesthaze touched noses with one of the cats sitting by the tree's roots, before running off into the night. But Cranepaw soo nsaw her friends already very engaged in talkign abotu what all of this meant. "What do yo uthink abotu this, Tempestpaw?" she asked, turning her head around to where she assumed Tempestpaw had joined the rest of the group. But she wasn't. Tempestpaw was sitting there with her back turned, like she was frozen in time. Eyes locked on where she last saw Grousestar and Tempesthaze disappear.

#destinyclan #clangen #before moon 0 #prologue #bm0 part 5

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carbonateddelusion · 2 years

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yooo you got any hcs for the spam spam puppet?

oh yeah sure!! I haven't been super actively thinking of hcs but here

His clothing is absolutely torn to tatters. it's a patchwork mess of a bunch of vaguely matched fabrics and he hasn't changed since the day he got booted out of the castle

I really like the idea of him being this. partly machine/magic creature (inspo by @/gatorbeast)... with fiber optic cables for whiskers

The Acid Theory isn't a thing with my Spam- he underwent a transformation from an Addison to a literal puppet, slowly morphing into more and more of an "inanimate" object during the process of his glory days- it's something he tried VERY hard to hide, but gave up after everything tanked. also he was always a short king

He's still just a plastic/wooden puppet under all of that clothing (except for a squishy beanbag-like torso), tho I do like the idea of him returning to a. more alive? monster body like he was as an Addison if he could get his hands on a Lightner human soul

The bits and bobs of his puppet bits are animated by his own soul, sometimes he can manifest tendrils out of his magic but it takes a lot of focus

This man is chock-full of computer viruses. fuck McAfee, you need some Norton 360 Deluxe

If you were to actually purge his body of all of those viruses, he'd speak MUCH more coherently and the [[text]] bits would not be there

His speech and thought patterns WITH the virus are incredibly random and essentially like ADHD ×100,000%. it's hard to get him to focus on anything that isn't related to tech things or money and he seldom gives direct answers

He needs a BATH. definitely stinks. get the Febreeze

has a soft spot for cats after living in the castle with the tasques

Glass ego. one moment he's convinced he's a gift to Darkner kind and one day he'll prove it, the other he's sitting in the bin moaning about how fucked up his life has been

Agoraphobic. even taking him into your house takes a lot of time because he doesn't like how "empty" it is. would require his own little claustrophobic space to retreat to, something like a crawl space or a closet

Doesn't know how to talk to people outside of brownnoser or car salesman mode. it doesn't actually make him all that upset or anxious, just a little frustrated because he can't properly communicate ideas, wants, and needs

#tonic temper tantrum #my apolocheese if i got anything qrong i havent been able to play ch2

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writer59january13 · 1 year

Text

Ready...Aim...Fire!

In light of tension twixt

brinkmanship rumbling one East Asian Tiger

country otherwise known as "the land of morning calm,"

yours truly t'will invite "freedom foo fighters"

tubby regaling with a jubilant aire

total mortal Kombat

levels threat of human warhead

bomb dubbed "Fat Boy.”

I barely get ma palm pilot sized

dear derriere i.e. gluteus maximus in the air

just a cat whisker

across the DeMilitarized Zone

(DMZ in military parlance),

when the Earth shuddered from blare

ring fusillade expressed detonation

issued by Kim Jong Un,

whose craven dark excitement clear; no match for one man

bow welled bombardier

propelled rectal bowel

movement game changer

will hit designated target precisely clear

and North Koreans (no matter

mostly innocent victims),

howling and whelping doggone dear

for quasi legerdemain

identifying, fraternizing, colluding,

et cetera with the enemy (in general,

the NATO bound countries) 'ere

really quiet, as preparation (H) gets made

to bring out the big guns

(actually shaped like a fleshy

posterior man knuckled bum) in truth one

dead reckoning sphincter muscle that doth flex with fantastic flair

impossible mission to espy, cuz sieve

all the flak whistling

induce sing a glare,

but...the Hermit Kingdom got another bad a$$ bombardier to fear

deathly, stealthily quiet,

hence released turd Jed

motive predicated to lob

early Holiday nuclear missiles,

me cheeks with

blasting buttocks akin to

young Frankenstein blazing saddles as sole portal oozing gaseous noxious flatulence - majority

of North Koreans will not hear amidst din and clangor "bad medicine" smiting nemesis courtesy blaze of glory

eye ordnance impossible to hear,

I strongly advise tubby not near

as you might already correctly guess, when while mooning Pyongyang

well taut smart cheeks, blindsided immune to any prayer

so...upon confiding this tidbit,

yet will need to seek out specialty

of proctologist who doth rear

lee suck seed unfortunate victim,

yet this silent deadly ass sass sin hated hard as a ribbed rock stainless steel

guaranteed to wreak havoc, with loathing what information divulged

ye moost promise never to share

else...any (red) turn coats

can not muster posterior haste, and other emotions hints sin sere

which top secret (never bottomed out

during test practice trials,

whereat Johnny spot on)

proved to vaporize underwear

and caused a "big stink"

that lasted about one year, whose po' country mutilated, reduced, wasted to ashes after every nuclear and

traditional military contrivance,

an IC and BM (mine) did destroy.

0 notes

lichdragon-fortissax · 2 years

Note

teleports behind you hi. consider the benefits of ♥ ▼ ൠ ☾ ♦ for leysha n ☾ ☆ ♦ ☯ ൠ for the omen brothers go off

FUCK YEAHHHH TIME TO GO HOGWILD

The Omen Twins:

☾ - sleep headcanon

-When in the Shunning-Grounds, after they broke free of their confinement, both would curl up together in the same nest to save space and keep warm. They slowly stopped doing this when they both got too large to fit comfortably in one sleeping spot, but the habit of curling up into a nest is one that they both still share, Mohg stronger than Morgott. Morgott is, in truth, perfectly happy to stretch himself out on any surface to catch snatches of sleep where he can, but Mohg insists on a nest, mostly because he'll usually just end up with his horns snagged in the pillows if he ever tries to sleep in a bed

☆ - happy headcanon

-There's really nothing that can be fully happy about these two without verging into bittersweet, but I do have this: successfully hunting the giant lobsters that stalked the Shunning-Grounds was always a big achievement for the twins that both celebrated vigorously when they managed to pull it off successfully. They also maintained contact with each other after the Shattering until Mohg made the mistake of capturing Miquella, and was enthralled by him to serve as his feeding-host, at which point Morgott assumed that he had been killed and that another had risen to take the title of Lord of Blood in his place

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

-I already mentioned Mohg's obsessive preening and peoplewatching, but I haven't mentioned Morgott's! His hobbies would be reading + calligraphy, which he taught himself; he's slow at it, but he's dedicated, and spends much of his waking time practicing by reading through all of the reports sent in from all over Altus and crafting beautifully scripted replies to those that need it. Outside of that, he practices incantation weaving, his illusion spells, and guarding Leyndell with all he has, because while he's unaware of it, he has an extremely strong territorial + protective instinct that pretty much demands him to patrol, and there's always Tarnished outside of the walls that need squashing before they can get any bold ideas about claiming the Elden Throne

As for quirks, he waves his tail about when he's experiencing emotions, flicks his ears when he's thinking or angered, and scrunches back his whiskers (actual whiskers, not facial hair, though it blends in with all of it) when disgusted. There's a lot of animal features that he's constantly trying to hold back, but will slip through when he's distracted. Don't ever point that out to him though, or he'll go into a depressive spiral until some new graceless bozo makes him irritated enough to forget about it

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

-Morgott hates being dirty, and will submerge himself in some form of running water multiple times a day if he thinks he can get away with it to try to clean himself off (yeah, he knows how to scrub filth off his fur, but he doesn't know what soap is because nobody ever bothered to teach him how to bathe). Mohg, on the other hand, actually likes to roll about in the muck and stink to the high heavens, as long as he knows that he can clean himself off afterwards. Both hate the Shunning-Grounds, and Mohg's love for the defilement he was born into speaks purely about his 'curse', but squishing around in mud is a hell of a lot of fun when you're covered in scales and leather vs a bunch of fine fur. As for what they both universally dislike, being restrained in any way is sort of a given, though I hesitate to call it 'dislike' as much as it is 'bordering on the sense of animalistic panic and sheer hatred' when/if their shackles are used against them

They're also both drawn to warmth, and love to press themselves up against warm things. Mohg will seek out steam vents and hot springs from magma channels under the earth to warm his wings, while the peak of luxury for Morgott is going out on patrol as Margit, and getting the chance to stretch out on a warm rock in the sun.

ൠ - random headcanon

-Both of them want nothing more desperately than the life that their brother Godwyn had: which is to say that they both desire a chance at a 'normal' life, where they are a respected lord ruling over their people that has a partner who cares for them and a family who loves them. Morgott himself tamps this down as much as he can, for he doesn't believe that he deserves such things, but Mohg is absolutely desperate for them and wants to obtain them through any means possible. It doesn't matter how healthy it is or how such a family comes to be, he just needs to be loved with a burning passion. Morgott often had to drag him away from the 'nursery' section of the Shunning-Grounds to keep him from stealing the baby Omen there (getting the bare minimum of care so that their noble families could abandon them without guilt), as Mohg would just press himself up to the bars and coo at them incessantly otherwise. Morgott understood his twin perfectly, but there's being stricken with the urge to protect something so tiny and weak, and knowing logically that you can't afford to care for such a thing when you yourself can't even be sure if you'll have clean water to drink for the day, or something to eat within the week.

Leysha (my Tarnished oc):

well I suppose these aren't headcanons if I've literally made her, so consider this a Leysha loredump instead!

♥ - family headcanon

-She was the eldest child of her family, and had a great deal of experience caring for children, as she helped to raise her many siblings. While many might have resented such a thing, Leysha herself thrived under it, as she's somewhat of a natural protector/caretaker, and doesn't take shit from anyone. She's also trans, and while she didn't realize that until later in her life, being inducted into something that is traditionally more considered a 'womanly position' was something that helped her realize that fact and made herself more comfortable with her identity. Being a natural caretaker isn't limited to gender, but it's stamped out in most raised to be men, so she felt lucky that she managed to dodge that sort of thing (which came about because her family farm was quite isolated and her father was a very quiet, reserved man who never placed much stock into manly discipline to begin with)

▼ - childhood headcanon

-Leysha grew up on a farm! Her homeland was primarily an agricultural community, with a large city in the center where farmers would congregate to trade goods and exchange raw material with crafters from other kingdoms. She was forcefully drafted into the army when she was 15 after a similarly-sized neighboring kingdom tried to conquer her own, so it wasn't a very long childhood, but she has a lot of fond memories of caring for sheep and goats before that happened.

ൠ - random headcanon

-She wasn't capable of transitioning in any way before she was exiled to the Lands Between, as she realized that she was trans when she was in the army and her nation was at war, so she pretty much immediately magically did it the second that she found a way (with Fia's enchanted mirror). As nice as this was, and as much as she loves her body, she's still not quite sure what to do with her tits, or how periods work, and all other mysteries of the female body that she didn't have to deal with before. Not that she would have thought that would be a problem, since she's in her 40's, but a side effect of Marika's 'blessing of abundance' within the Lands Between is its severe delay on aging, so getting a blast of that magic right to the face means that menopause isn't going to happen to her for a good while yet. Sorry for that, Leysha.

☾ - sleep headcanon

-On her left side, with as many pillows as possible, hugging anything close enough to be subject to her grasp. The pillows part came about because she spent nearly 25 years in the army on paltry straw cots or hard ground to rest, and her hugging trait helped her immensely in holding her greatswords + rations pack so that it wouldn't be stolen by other hungry teenagers sent out to war, but now that she's become the Lord of Leyndell's consort, it's mostly just used to strangle Morgott. Or his tail, after he's learned the hard way that she's the snuggly sort...not that he really minds

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

-Leysha loves spinning wool and weaving, for they were traditional rites of her homeland that she learned just before she went off to war. Well, the wool-spinning itself wasn't, that was just what her family did for money, but the weaving was something passed down to her from her paternal grandmother before she herself succumbed to sickness, and spinning/dying wool is nostalgic to her in the best ways. She takes it up again after she becomes Elden Lord, and helped to somewhat revive the textile arts of Altus when her practice rugs ended up as shawls for Morgott.

For quirks, she's got a habit of pensively holding her left boob when she's in soft enough clothes to do so, and in deep enough thought to warrent boob-squishing. This was always possible for her, as she's always had a lot of fat and muscle to make for great pec-grabbing, but now that she's got proper tits, the squishing potentials are endless.

Send me an emoji and an Elden Ring character for some headcanons!

#elden ring #the omen twins #morgott the omen king #mohg lord of blood #elden ring headcanons #tarnished #tarnished oc #oc: leysha #elden ring oc #ask game #ask meme #reply #glowingmooncreations #thanks for this i went OFF

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enternalempires · 4 years

Text

Those Eyes

This is a Ladynoir/Adrienette fic. It has switched Miraculous and a reveal and Marinette purring, lol. Lots of fluff. Hope you enjoy! Haven’t figured out how to use links yet but my Ao3 username is the same!

We all know that Plagg with Marinette would be chaotic as all hell, like she’d mention a very very bad course of action that would have us all going ‘second-hand embarrassment, no!!’ but that sarcastic little shit of a Kwami would be like, “Yes!! Do it!!!” because like, after eons of being alive and literally killing the dinos off along with various other disasters you just learn to not care anymore. And Adrien with Tikki would be chaotic in a different way. They’d be so?? Productive??? Like, they’d agree on so much and just vibe that it would be pure sunshine magic. Like, there’s a reason why they got the humans that they did.

Marinette shrieked, scrambling past a car that was picked up and thrown in her direction— successfully dodging any debris and sharp objects left over from the Akumas wake.

At eighteen years old, she knew better than to take off her earrings.

She knew she shouldn’t have, even if it was Adrien Agreste who asked her to change them out, promising with his life (as she made him do) that they would be safe in his bag. She knew that having a photo shoot with him and she in her original MDC designs shouldn’t have made her heart flutter but it did.

They were modeling together.

God, if the fifteen-year-old her could’ve predicted this, she would’ve melted in her spot.

But she didn’t.

And she also didn’t predict that Hawkmoth would choose absolutely the worst time to put an Akuma out into the streets of Paris, but she wasn’t surprised. Her luck as Ladybug never passed over into her life as Marinette— ruler of clumsiness and bad decisions.

Marinette knew she needed to get back to Tikki, she needed to find her earrings and quickly put them on.

She just didn’t expect to find the car that Adrien’s bag had been in to be completely destroyed with its contents spewed around the street.

Oh, she was screwed.

“Tikki,” She hissed, getting onto her knees and ignoring the glass that stuck into her palms as she shifted through all the now unrecognizable car’s contents. “Tikki, where are you?”

“Oh, this is golden,” A voice cackled from behind her and Marinette whipped around— coming face to face with a tiny black Kwami with glowing green eyes and a long tail. She blinked once, twice, and then noticed the bright silver, almost white ring he was carrying. “You’re Sugercube’s babybug, huh? Oh, loverboy is going to get a kick out of this.”

She gaped, unsure about how to continue.

“Do you have cheese?” He asked, scowling when she shook her head. “Great. What use are you then?”

“Uh…”

This was Chat Noir’s Kwami?

He seemed… completely opposite of Tikki.

“Well, aren’t you going to torture me now?” He asked, floating up to her face— his sardonic tone deepening as he lazily landed in Marinette’s palms as soon as she offered them up to him. “I’m Plagg, by the way. Why did you take the earrings off?”

“Urm, I’m Marinette and Tikki didn’t want me to but I kinda… I had this photoshoot thing that I had to switch them out for. So I did.”

“Oo! A rule breaker! I like you. My human is a goodie-goodie, unless it comes to you. He’s so in love that it’s revolting.”

“Not good at the emotional stuff, huh?”

“Nah, cheese is my love.”

“Oh,” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Not the tiny goddess that calls you Stinky Socks?”

Giving her an eyeroll, Plagg huffed out, “Can you just say ‘claws out’ already?”

“Is there anything I need to know regarding Chat’s powers?”

“Be careful when you’re jumping around and moving, it’ll look a bit different than usual and you’ll be faster.” His voice was so bored that she couldn’t help but to giggle. “I’m awesome, so you’ll also be able to hear a lot better and see in the dark. Also, people will smell.”

“Excuse me?” Marinette blinked. “Smell?”

“Yep.” The black cat yawned exaggeratingly. “Loverboy says you smell good or whatever. Also, don’t ruin everything.”

For whatever reason, that made her cheeks flush and Plagg laughed, his cackle creating goosebumps to go over her skin.

He felt powerful— like destruction and death and sadness. He felt like he could destroy the whole world, like he could send it into a proverbial darkness, and Marinette was reminded of Paris drowned in water, and the moon cracked in half in the sky.

It was terrifying.

Plagg was terrifying.

Tikki felt light, like home.

Like life and warmth and creation and happiness. Her power was intimidating, it was skin-tight and heavy and weighed down her shoulders with a burden she never wanted but bore anyways.

Marinette wondered how his magic would feel after she transformed and looked around. The destruction still damaged around her, but she was hidden by three toppled over cars and couldn't see anyone through the cracks.

“Plagg,” She slipped the ring onto her middle finger, watching as it turned smaller and shone in a soft sky blue color. “Claws out!”

The power that overwhelmed her made her feel unbalanced, her head swarming like she was twenty feet underwater, the pressure pounding around her in all directions.

Being Ladybug felt suffocating sometimes. It felt like responsibility and trauma walked beside her every day.

But wearing the Black Cat Miraculous?

That felt like drowning.

Like devastation was clinging to her.

How did her kitty deal with this? With feeling demolition wreck havoc through his veins on an almost daily basis?

Ladybug— or well, she couldn’t be ladybug anymore— sucked in a harsh breath and looked around. The world was just… in ruins around her but it was more vivid than anything she experienced. The sun shone on everything brighter, the shadows almost nonexistent and the details— god, she was starting to see why Chat stared so much.

Taking her baton into her hands, the young heroine saw that the silver was the same color that the ring had turned into, a soft sky blue, and noted that in the light it glowed with an azure flicker.

Strange.

Turning around with a flinch as a loud boom followed by multiple screams rang throughout the street, the heroine had full intention to join in on the chaos and to hopefully find Chat— until she caught sight of herself in an upside-down car’s windshield.

She stood there gaping.

Unsure.

What the…

She wasn’t really sure what to expect, maybe an exact replica of Chat’s outfit, maybe her outfit as Ladybug but cat-themed but not… not this.

Her eyes were the same color but brighter, the iris having a deep blue ridge to them and the white part of her eyes were a slightly lighter shade. And her pupils— her pupils are slitted!

Wait.

Does that, does that mean that… that Chat’s eyes are normal now?

Ignoring that thought, she looked at the rest of her.

The suit was still the same black leather that her partner wore but with an azure shine to it. Around her neck, there was a dark blue bow with three loops made out of what seemed to be a soft and a baby blue bell in the middle.

Around her waist was the same blue ribbon that wrapped around her twice and then swished around her hips and extended towards her ankles in her ‘tail’.

Tail.

She had a tail.

Her eyes flew back up to her hair and her hands instantly shot up to her ears— leather ears exactly like Chat’s but they had light blue tips. They flicked and she felt it. She grabbed them with her hands and she squeaked.

How does he live like this?!

Instead of her pigtails, her hair was down to her shoulders with two thin ribbons going down to her shoulders. Her bangs were still present but the little hairs that used to frame her face on either side of her head and in front of her ears were now three curved whisks of hair that almost made her think they were supposed to resemble whiskers.

Her hands had claws, her wrists had ribbons and a small bow on them, as did her ankles— and her feet were shaped into paws!

Hopping on one foot, she saw the ‘toe beans’ on the bottom of her sole and squeaked rather loudly again.

She was a cat— a cat!

Her panicking came to an end when the car she was looking at herself was suddenly picked up and— thrown at her.

She heard it moving before she saw it, her ears perking up and dragging forward, her body leaping out of the way as the tension in her body raised. She sensed it coming towards her, somehow being able to feel the immediate area around her— she couldn’t stop observing it all.

Oh. Oh. It all makes sense now.

How Chat was always able to see the Akuma or any objects that were about to hit her before she did.

That and she could get so stuck in her head so much that it could be problematic.

Like now, for example.

The Akuma— a giant doll version of Reflekdoll, poor Juleka probably got akumatized again— was throwing things at her and, well, she tried her best to dodge, using her baton and newfound speed and agility to avoid being dangerously squished.

Unfortunately, she was rather clumsy with her new suit and powers.

She tried to listen to what Plagg had said, to be careful, and to be slower but she couldn’t. She never got hit by cars or building debris or the giant doll's hands but she flinched at her roars of rage and collided with building edges or other things she underestimated her own ability to stop with.

It would be so much easier if she had her yoyo or her wings to help guide her.

Where was her Chaton when she needed him?

Across town in a shady alleyway, Adrien Agreste was smiling brightly at the tiny red and black Kwami who was giving him a soft smile of her own— blue, almost purple eyes twinkling.

“I can tell why my babybug likes you so much,” Tikki said, having found and calmly explained the situation to the blond who she found calling out for Plagg mere minutes before. “You’re very polite and sweet, Stink Socks probably complains so much!”

“Thanks,” Adrien flushed slightly, wondering if he heard the miniature goddess correctly when she said that her Babybug, Ladybug by omission, liked him. “He’s not too bad as long as I give him enough camembert.

“Him and his cheese,” Tikki rolled her eyes before focusing them back on him, her smile turning encouraging. “I’m sure Plagg has found M— Ladybug by now. All you have to do is say ‘spots on’. I’m positive you’ll be able to handle it, Adrien! You’ve proven to be an amazing Chat Noir, I’m sure you’ll be an amazing Ladybug as well!”

“You’re… nothing like Plagg.”

“I know,” The Kwami giggles and strangely enough it reminds him of his lady’s giggles— that is until a loud shattering boom went through the air and shook the ground around them and a flash of black and blue went past the alley. “Ready?”

“Not really, but I’ll do my best!” Adrien gave a nervous chuckle and then took the earrings into his palms, then turning a darker sheen of red then what the black glowed with originally and the part of them that would go into the holes turned into cuffs.

When he put them on, he tugged, delighted in the way they were tight enough to never fall off unless physically torn from his ears.

“Alright, Tikki, spots on!”

Adrien didn’t expect the warmth that encased him.

Usually, the magic that he got from Plagg felt cold and secure, like a protective darkness hiding him from the loneliness, giving him the freedom to run through the night without fear of the isolation waiting for him at home.

Tikki’s magic felt heavy, like burning alive— and suddenly he understood the burden that had been placed onto his lady’s shoulders and the strictness in her eyes.

There was no room for mistakes.

The world was in her palms, she had become Atlas at thirteen and never complained once. She had taken up the mantle with wariness and a proud stance and she held it so tightly that she never dropped it once.

He sucked in a breath, almost doubling over with the weight of it all.

Ladybug— for five years— felt this unyielding responsibility? She did this and put up with him, him who teased and goofed around and made mistakes? Him who had admittedly gotten better over time but still flirts and is playful on the field?

How did she deal with that?!

Fortunately, he didn’t have to think long about that being a giant doll stopped at the edge of the alleyway, turned to him as he shuffled back and roared.

He saw his own reflection in the shiny face— a maroon suit with black details and a black mask, his hair the same mess, and the yoyo around his waist. Thick wings were on his back, he could feel them twitch and scuffle as they opened in surprise. Ladybug had wings, he didn’t know why he expected not to.

His eyes were wide and so normal that it took him a second too long to realize they were coming closer.

Because the doll was moving closer, making his reflection do the same.

Why couldn’t he sense it?

Why did everything look so… so familiar? No extra sight, no extra hearing. How did Ladybug do this— how could she fight while being so normal?

God, he always had a lot of respect for her but now he has even more.

Shooting into the air, the yoyo automatically swung in his hand as he used it to volt himself into the sky, having seen his lady do so so many times it was almost second nature. Once he got over the doll, she shrieked in agitation— looking like Reflekdoll— and moved her clanky, large body to try and grab him.

Chat, however, if he could even call himself that anymore, opened his wings with some experimentation and flapped them a couple of times, not expecting the power they held and went so far into the sky that the sight could rival their rendezvous point on the Eiffel tower.

He tried to drift right but ended up volting upside down and catching a large gust of wind that sent him backward, wings snapping painfully straight.

The hero yelped and desperately, yet futility, clawed at the air.

Where was his lady when he needed her?

The young heroine was just thinking she got the hang of how to run across the rooftops with her accelerated speed— having failed and either trip or face-planted into a chimney here or there— but a masculine yelp came from above her and she looked up just in time to see the panicked face of her partner before the deep red-suited boy with long wings crashed into her.

They went flying, both rolling as their bodies tangled together, the cold tiles of the roof underneath them not hurting but definitely not pleasant as they came to a stop a couple of seconds after.

She groaned, feeling his familiar and hard body underneath hers.

She wanted him to be there with her, of course, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to tackle her after being airborne.

“Chat,” She struggles to detangle her arms from around him, his wings crowding them more than the usual present-battle entanglement. She was grateful though for this moment, he was warm and soothing and Tikki’s magic felt like a breath of fresh air. “Why would you—”

Why would you try to fly?

She was going to ask, seeing as that’s most likely how he literally fell out of the sky and onto her but then, then something horrifying happened.

She started to purr.

“Eek!” She shot up, arms painfully pulling out of their spot as she desperately tried to crawl away from her partner. “No, no, no, no—”

“Milady,” Chat’s teasing voice froze her but, unfortunately, made the purring all the much louder and she snapped her eyes up to meet his startlingly normal eyes. “Are you doing that because of me?”

“N-no! No, of course not, that would be, that would be, uh—”

She tried to focus on what she was saying, her lie so obvious, but then that stupid cat put a gentle hand into her hair and started to massage her scalp, petting her so softly that her purrs echoed.

Why did that make her feel so warm inside and why did it feel so good?

“Aw, my little kitten.” Chat cooed out. “So adorable. You’re happy to see me, hm?”

“Hm— ah, n-no.” The heroine leaned into his palm, forgetting about their surroundings as she melted into his touch— that is until a prickling sensation shook her whole body and she heard the faintest scrap of metal against the ground.

Her eyes flew open again and she jerked back into a sitting position, eyes snapping to the right as her hackles raised. Another stupid car was coming right at them! Without much thought, the heroine pushed her partner down onto the opposite side of the roof, rolling down after him just as the vehicle smashed into the building.

Okay.

So this Akuma was the murderous kind.

Not the trap or trick kind.

Nice to know.

“Okay, we have to lure her towards the Seine,” She jumped into her usual serious mode, jumping to her feet and unaware that her tail was swishing behind her. “That way there’s less of those stupid cars to throw. I’m pretty sure everyone is to safety by now but we still don’t want her damaging buildings due to the people inside.”

“Ladybug— er, I mean… what do I call you now?” Chat asked, standing up and stretching his wings, and then almost falling over again due to the wind and some building chunks the muttering Akuma was chucking at them.

“Uh, I don’t know, you pick.” She said half mindlessly, blocking hits for both of them. “It looks like a bigger version of when Juleka got Akumatized but I haven’t seen anything that could be the object and trust me, I’ve been thrown around enough to catch all of her.”

“Bluebell Kitten,” He said, pointing to the bell in the middle of her bow. “And are you okay? Did you have trouble using the baton?”

“No, the baton is easy, it’s the stupid senses thing! How can you focus on anything?” The apparent kitten asked, pointing towards the Eiffel tower. “And for the record, I regret giving you the choice to choose, Scarlet Beetle.”

“Ah, nice name.” He grinned, heeding to her signal, and started to run in that direction. “I don’t know, it just comes naturally. Makes sense it would be overwhelming for you, though. You get no extra senses at all, I don’t know how you fight like this.”

“Quite easily,” Bluebell Kitten quipped. “And just wait until you use my charm, it’ll definitely knock you off your feet.”

“That’s okay,” Scarlet beetle helped her keep the right face and sent her a wink that sent her tail wagging embarrassingly. “It’ll just be another way I fell for you.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that made its appearance. “You ready for this, buggy?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, kitten.”

The battle went by with a little struggle— Scarlet Beetle having to help Bluebell Kitten with her speed, showing her the best way to stop or how to adjust her eyes to focus properly on what she was doing and about the new depth perception she had. In return, the bug turned cat helped the still flirty boy fly better, teaching him how to find the right air currents and how to land— but the heroine could tell her partner struggled with the Miraculous.

It was a different kind of struggle than she had with his.

Sure, Plagg’s magic was uncomfortable and too light and just wrong against her skin but Tikki with her kitty? Not a good mix.

He struggled to understand that he couldn’t take any hits for her— that that was the Kitten’s responsibility now.

That, no matter how much he wanted to save her, he couldn’t do anything that would put himself incapacitated or at a greater risk. They could defend each other but he was the last line of defense— they were a team but he mattered more.

He was the only one that could heal those hurt, that could fix things that were broken.

“Minou,” She had sighed out, blue eyes sparring her partner a glance as she distracted and he tried to figure out what his lucky charm meant. “No self-sacrificing today, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Scarlet Beetle had asked, frowning as he spun his yoyo in a circle to block some rumble from hitting him.

“It’s not your job to protect me right now. It’s your job to survive long enough to defeat the Akuma and fix everything.”

“But—”

“No buts. You can’t put yourself at risk, even for me. Understood?”

Begrudgingly, the blond-haired boy nodded and they settled their full attention back into the battle. Within minutes it was done, both of them having used their powers and able to return poor Juleka back to the Couffaine boathouse after fist-bumping and answering Alya’s question when she stormed up to them for a report on the Ladyblog.

The heroine could tell that her poor bug was still upset, having witnessed her take a couple blows that he hadn’t seen coming— being more unattentive than usual and not able to sense as much.

She had broken ribs but still fought by his side.

Broken ribs were nothing compared to what he went through before, she had told herself. He had died before, she wasn’t as unlucky.

“Chaton,” The Kitten grabbed his wrist, stopping him from where they were running on a roof, his earring cuffs beeping letting them know he only had three minutes left, her ring was at four. It had been roughly twenty minutes since they used their powers; more time from being older and getting more powers and mature suits. “I’m sorry that today was bad for you.”

“I’m just… I’m not used to not being able to protect you, milady.” He grumbled with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t like it.”

“It was only for today,” She reminded softly. “And I know how you feel but you just— you have to remind yourself that what happened, how I was hurt, wasn’t your fault. I know you would’ve protected me if you could have. That’s one of the burdens of having the Ladybug Miraculous.”

Scarlet Beetle just frowns at her and she sighs, reaching up a hand to softly cup his cheek.

“It’s okay, Kitty,” She smiles. “I’m fine now, aren’t I?”

“Is this how it’s like for you?” He questions, shiny green eyes flickering between her own. “Feeling helpless? Just watching and unable to save… I was unable to save you. I can’t, I can't do that again—”

Scarlet cuts himself off with a choking sound, hand clenching by his side with tears in his eyes. He trembled slightly and the Kitten felt her ears press flat as she recognized the terror in his eyes.

“Come here,” She holds her arms open, offering a hug and her boy is quick to take the opportunity and wrap himself into her gentle hold. “I know that was a hard fight but you’re not going to lose me, okay? Never. You’re stuck with me now, I’m not going to leave you or get hurt and not be there. I promise.”

“Promise,” He wiggles until his arm is free and holds out his pinky, the action so adorable that she can’t help but to giggle as she lifts her own hand and interwinds her pinky with his.

Beeps echo through the night and Bluebell pulls away, running a hand through Scarlet’s hair to make it even messier. She ruffled the spots his ears would normally be and smiled when the strands fluffed up and stuck up into different angles.

“We have to go, Minou.” She boops his nose. “Meet me in our hotel room tower tonight, we’ll switch back to normal.”

“Okay,” He gives her a goofy smile. “What does Tikki like to eat?”

“Chocolate chip cookies, or just sweets in general. Plagg likes cheese, right?”

“Really! Cookies are so much better than stinky camembert— which I’m guessing he mentioned. Do you, urm, even have that?”

“My dad’s secretly a cheese fanatic, I’m sure I can smuggle some of the good stuff from him.” Bluebell tilted her head slightly, eyeing his wings. “Don’t fly if you’re going into a window or something narrow because, and no offense, you're not good enough to avoid smacking into it and breaking something.”

“I take full offense,” He winks. “See you Milady.”

“See you, kitty.”

“Can you keep me?” Plagg asked, staring dreamily at the gruyere cheese that the young heroine had given him shortly after she detransformed and made it back home— and after he laughed about the pictures of all her friends including Adrien and Chat Noir on her walls. “I know I called you mushy and sentimental but this is even better than camembert!”

Marinette laughs and shakes her head, “Sorry Plagg, I prefer Tikki. I don’t like smelling like cheese.” Even if gruyere smelled quite a lot better than camembert.

“Ugh, humans.” The Kwami grumbles. “So fickle. You just wanna smell good for loverboy. I think that cheese smells amazing, for the record.”

“Your opinion has been noted.” She nods to him. “And I don’t want to smell good for Chat!”

“Mhm,” Plagg rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“I’m not!”

“I totally believe you, kid.”

“You’re horrible,” She grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah. Feed me some more.”

“No.”

“Feed me!”

“Stop yelling or I’m telling Tikki you were being mean to me.”

“Hey!” Plagg turned to her with glaring green eyes. “Don’t bring Sugarcube into this.”

Marinette turned to him and raised an eyebrow, “Then don’t bring my kitty into this.”

“Aw,” He snickered. “You called him your kitty. He’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Plagg, claws out!” Marinette flushed a bright red and a green light encased her.

Time to go visit her kitty— because he is hers, no matter Plagg’s teasing.

Across town in a lonely room, Adrien was laughing so hard his stomach was hurting and tears were coming out of his eyes. He was practically wheezing at this point, curled up as he tried to catch his breath— something that, at this point, was useless.

He had managed to convince Tikki to try some of Plagg’s camembert.

And the little Kwami quite honestly looked like she was going to throw up, cheeks going almost a purple as she grimaced and gagged.

It shouldn’t have been as funny as it was but Adrien couldn’t help it.

Tikki was so different than Plagg and the simple fact that she looked like she was ready to die right then and there from the mere taste of the black cat’s favorite food was one of the funniest things he has ever seen.

“Haha,” She said, voice light but disgusted as she tried to cover up the taste with chocolate— which, by her expression, he could tell did not blend well. “Now you have to try it. Fair is fair.”

“No!” He choked on a chuckle. “Plagg has tried to feed me it so many times and succeeded. I don’t need to smell like that cheese more than I already do!”

“Hmph,” Tikki crossed her arms and floated up to his face. “I’m going to tell baby bug you tried to poison me.”

Adrien gaped, “You wouldn’t.”

The miniature goddess giggled, “You’re right, but your expression was worth it!”

“You’re so much nicer than Plagg, I can see why Ladybug loves you so much,” He commented, blinking slightly at the little Kwami’s stupefied expression. “She’s talked about you before. I didn’t know your name or anything but a couple of times during patrol she mentioned how, well… how she was so grateful you were her best friend.”

“Really?” Tikki gave an excited smile that only widened as Adrien nodded.

“Really really.”

“Well, she’s the best Ladybug I’ve had. The youngest too.” Her smile goes softer with a tender look only a being as long as she had lived could have. “I don’t know how she does it all, but despite all she thinks about herself, she’s a very resourceful little bug. I couldn’t be prouder of her. Or of you, Adrien! Plagg loves you, even if the stinky socks won’t admit it.”

“Thank you. He purrs when I hug him, even if he yells at me.”

“Does he really?” Tikki laughed joyfully. “I’ll have fun teasing him about that.”

“I thought you were the one that got teased?” Adrien tilted his head to the side.

“It goes both ways,” She reassured. “He’s just better at it.”

“I see. Did he really kill all the dinosaurs?”

“And the doo-doo birds.”

“No!” He gasped. “Evil.”

“Laziness and distractions,” The kwami corrected, lifting a solemn paw. “He was different back then. Less happy.”

“Less happy?” Adrien questioned.

He always assumed that cheese was the only thing that made Plagg truly happy, well, until he met Tikki and she had shared a couple of stories, telling him about all the interesting things they’ve been through together.

“Yeah,” Tikki gave him a sad smile. “We’ve been around since the dawn of creation, Adrien, we’ve seen countless civilizations and being rise and fall, empires turned to nothing more than ash. We’ve seen evil rise and good defend time and time again. My bugs… they are always smart, always compassionate people. Sometimes gentle and sweet like your lady is. Sometimes not. But they all— each and every single one of them— see horribly traumatizing things that Plagg’s holders do not, they get torn apart from the inside out. But his kittens? They get hurt more. They risk more. They die more and they die first. Always. And he dies with them a bit each time.”

“That’s…”

Adrien didn’t even know what that was, the only thing that came to mind was— sad.

“I know,” She gave him that motherly smile of hers, tone soft and soothing but with a note of sadness to it. “You don’t have to say it. Plagg takes a long time to open up to someone. He doesn’t like acting close, he doesn’t like being close— he said that it hurts less that way. But I know that it hurts the same, that it hurts even more. That he wants more time with them, I know I always do.”

“I can’t speak for anyone but myself,” The young hero says. “But I know that whenever I go, I will want more time with him, too.”

Tikki fixes him with a sweet look in her eye, “That’ll mean a lot to Stinky Socks. Could you tell him that?”

“Of course,” Adrien gives her one of his bright smiles— one that’s actually real. “It’s almost time to meet Milady at our room, are you all energized?”

Their room was at Le Grand Paris, paid for by Major Bourgeois after he assured the two heroes that there would be no supervallince, no one allowed on that floor (the very top) without their explicit permission and that they could come there at any time, the balcony always unlocked.

Chloe told them that it was a gift to her favorite superhero and ‘friend’ of all time.

Ladybug gave a weak smile and scowled once whom she considered to be a nuisance looked away.

Besides Chloe beings, well… Chloe, Adrien had no clue what she could’ve done to make his lady hate her so much. They interacted once every couple months due to her causing an Akuma, so maybe that was it but the dislikement Ladybug had for the girl seemed to go beyond that.

It seemed personal.

“Yep! Take me back to my baby bug, please.” Tikki smiles at him.

Returning the look, Adrien calls out, “Spots on!” And is encased into a burning, dark red light before the same maroon suit and dark wings flexed against his skin.

Scarlet beetle sighed.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to see his lady.

Arriving at Le Grand Paris, Bluebell Kitten knew that her partner was already inside based on the precariously left open door and an album from Jagged Stone that she could hear extraordinarily well even from outside.

She, expecting to be able to stop, landed onto the balcony and put away her baton— only for her clumsy feet to stumble due to her speed and she crashed right through the open door, thankful that he left it open.

Then for the second time that day, the two heroes crashed into each other before slamming into the floor, the Kitten on top of the beetle and both bright red, bodies tangled up and so close that she couldn’t tell where she ended and he started.

“H-hey, Milady.” He, for some reason, chuckled and cupped the back of her head, holding her gently as he shifted slightly underneath her. “That eager to be bugged by me, huh?”

“Chaton,” The heroine scowled, pushing herself onto her elbows as she rests peacefully against his chest. “Aren’t you punned out for the day?”

“When am I ever punned out, little kitten?”

Bluebell shrieks as a purr loudly announces her appreciation— that she otherwise would’ve been able to hide— for the pet name and she scrambled back as that stupid blond started to laugh.

“Chat!” She covers her mouth with both hands, desperately trying to stop both her blush and the noise coming from her as it only grows thanks to her useless partner pulling her back onto him with a wicked grin. “Make it stop! How do I make it stop?”

“I don’t know if I want to help you with this, Milady,” He bites the inside of his cheek. “I quite like you not being able to hide how you feel.”

The purr in her chest turned into a soothing, almost constant rumble and she pouted.

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” The words seemed to vibrate in her throat and she swallowed the odd tickling feeling down. “I purr, Chaton. Purr! And every time I look at you my stupid tail wants to act up! Why? Because it hates me.”

“No,” He grinned. “Because you loooove me.”

Flushing deeply, she buries her head into her hands— deciding that's not enough and then buries it into his chest to hide the red-stained cheeks but Scarlet Beetle only laughs, telling her he saw it already.

“Come on, Bugaboo. I’m just teasing you.”

“I don’t like this.”

“But you like me.”

“Chat!”

“What? I didn’t do anything.” His laugh deepens and she can feel it in her own chest, being that close to him. That traitorous purr only gets louder. Stupid, stupid cat instincts. Why can’t she enjoy the sound of his laugh without him knowing? Was that too much to ask?

“Just give me my miraculous back, you silly tomcat,” Bluebell grumbles, successfully sitting up this time, the purr quieting when Scarlet Beetle puts his hands back to his sides. “And don’t tease my purring!”

“Why not?” He pouts. “You tease my purring.”

“That’s different,” She whines. “You’re cute when you do it. It’s just weird for me too! I don’t want to be able to hear your heart beating— wait!” She stared at him in wide-eyed horror. “Do you… do you usually hear that good?”

“Yeah?” The hero gives her a weird look. “But I learned to ignore it, why?”

“No reason.” She sighs, looking away from her partner as she scrambles off of him, both standing up and a foot apart. “Point is, I’m a cat person but I don’t want to be a cat.”

“I rather like seeing you as a cat,” His comment earns a dry look.

“I’m sure you just love seeing me prance around in leather but I like being Ladybug, not a kitty.”

“But you're my kitten,” Beetle’s pout returns, and his green eyes widen innocently— almost as bad as Manon’s when she wants something.

The longer she stared into his eyes, the more familiar they became.

Not because they were Chat’s eyes, no— she’s seen her partner’s slitted gaze thousands of times. She’s seen him look at her a thousand times with that look in his eyes, too. The look that got her heart racing and the ‘what ifs’ to drag through her mind.

But these eyes?

And that expression?

She saw it somewhere else, on someone else.

All she can do is stare blankly at him, mind reeling.

No… no, it can’t be him— Chat can’t be—

But he could.

The missed classes, the poor excuses, the exhaustion, the secret gaze, the trusting of her civilian self. Blonde hair, green eyes. Bad father. Kind, selfless, smart. Lonely. The gentlest soul she has ever met.

Everything just clicked.

The thing they had been dancing around for years just fell into place looking into those eyes— eyes she used to be too nervous to look into. Eyes she tripped over, eyes she used to be in love with; eyes she still was in love with.

Raising a shaking hand to his cheek, she caressed it softly before bringing it up to his hair and brushing the strands back. He watched her, curious gaze intense as they locked eyes.

“Adrien?”

The name passed her lips so softly, so assured, and her kitty flinched in surprise, wide eyes filling first with confusion, then panic, and then with questions.

“How did you…”

She fell for him once under the hood of an umbrella and a sincere apology, with thunder and lightning crashing around them in the downpour but she didn’t mind. She wasn’t the only thing in Paris that day that felt so heavy that she could scream and she didn’t mind. She fell in love with the sweet boy with good grades and a sadness trapped into a smile. She fell in love with the boy who did everything he could to make his father happy, to help people. She fell in love with the boy beyond the good boy, perfect model facade he put on.

She fell in love with Adrien Agreste at fifteen.

She fell in love with him again at eighteen but it was different this time. There was no lightning, no quick strike of feelings and amazement and warmth. No, it was like swimming in shallow waters only to get swept up in the tides, completely trusting the water to keep her safe.

She fell in love with the puns, with the goofy smile and flicking ears and curious green eyes. She fell in love with her best friend, her partner. She fell in love with the boy in the mask, the one who supported her whenever she needed it and held her even when she didn’t. She fell in love with his sensitive heart and sharp mind.

She fell in love with Chat Noir.

And ever since then she’s been falling all over the place, enamoured over everything he did. She fell and fell and fell. There were so many things to love about him— both sides of him.

How couldn’t she see it before?

Because, honestly, who else could’ve been good enough to be Chat Noir?

“Your eyes,” She murmured almost absentmindedly, looking between the verdant orbs. “They’re usually darker and slitted. Cats eyes. But… but these eyes? These are Adrien Agreste’s eyes. I know these eyes, they’re beautiful.”

She could hear his heart racing and she could see the almost begging way he looked at her. She could see the tension in his body, the way he could so easily shrink in on himself.

“And is… is being Adrien okay?” The hero questioned, wincing slightly as he looked away from her. “Are you disappointed that it’s me?”

“Of course not,” She giggled and that stupid purr still hadn’t left. “You’re you. How could that ever disappoint me, Chaton?”

“I don’t know... I’m not, I don’t— do I know you?” Adrien— Chat— questioned, shuffling on his feet as he leaned into her touch. “Outside of the mask, I mean?”

She felt the purring stop and her ears went back. She retracted her hand slowly to her cheek and hugged herself around the middle. She looked down at the wings opened anxiously against his back, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face.

“Yeah,” The heroine nods. “We’re friends.”

Friends.

That’s all they were.

Chat Noir and Adrien were in love with Ladybug— not her.

She wasn’t elegant or agile, she tripped over her feet three times a day and could be so unorganized and forgetful that she drove herself insane. She wasn’t too confident and she was far from brave.

Marinette wasn’t like Ladybug.

She wasn’t… she wasn’t that perfect girl Chat made her out to be.

Adrien was her friend, they hung out and could have good conversations but she noticed that he avoided her slightly, almost like he was disgusted by her. Like she made him uncomfortable.

Like he couldn’t stand her, even if he was polite.

It was almost like how she acted the first year they knew each other but he seemed more… wary, like she had done something to offend him and he was just waiting for her to realize or talk to him about it.

Would he be disappointed that she’s Ladybug?

Angry, even?

“Why do you look so sad, bugaboo?” Adrien asks, concern touching his tone. “Did you— do you not want to be my friend?”

When she looked at him, her poor partner looked ready to drop with worry and she gave a watery chuckle, just realizing there were tears in her eyes.

“Sorry,” She rubs the wetness away, almost poking herself with the claws. “I just… you don’t like me much. The civilian me, anyway. I don’t want you to be upset that it’s me.”

“There are very few people I don’t like,” He frowned. “And none of them have blue hair, or blue eyes, or your smile. Who are you?”

Bluebell lowered her eyes, “You won’t hate me?”

It’s always been a fear of hers— Chat finding out who she actually was and leaving her, being disgusted. How could an insecure klutz like that protect Paris? How could he trust the girl who couldn’t get three good sentences out to him to talk down an Akuma or soothe one of the victims with her tone?

How could he still love her, knowing the girl underneath the mask?

Ladybug was stunning.

Marinette was just… Marinette.

“I couldn’t even if I tried,” Adrien reassured her, wringing his hands together in such a cute, unlike-Chat way that she giggled. “Can I detransform?”

“Sure,” She took a step back again, nervous for no reason at all.

It was just Chat, just her partner. Just the boy she’s been in love with for the last five years.

No big deal.

None whatsoever.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “You look like you’re going to cry. Oh no, I’m so sorry! I knew you wouldn’t like that I was Adrien! God, I’m so stupid—”

“Stop being mean to yourself!” She snapped. “I care about you, both sides! I care that you’re Adrien because you make me a little nervous but it’s nothing bad, I promise! I just have, urm… it’s a lot to process.”

“...Understandable.” He swallowed, then said, “Spots off.”

A flash of red consumed Scarlet Beetle and in his place stood Adrien, hair neater and muscular body less accentuated in his, ironically, ladybug-themed sweater and jeans that she knew he wore to school.

It was Adrien Agreste.

Her friend Adrien Agreste.

Bluebell knew that— of course she knew that but seeing it… it took her breath away.

Tikki floated between the two heroes with wide eyes, glancing to her baby bug and then back to the blond. She had no clue what was happening and her holder dreaded the lecture she’d get later of the importance of keeping their identities a secret.

With slightly narrowed eyes but an encouraging smile, Tikki went over to the other side of the room where the cookies were at and started to eat.

She could feel the Kwami’s eyes on her and the anxiety creeping around her veins pulsed viciously.

Taking a deep breath, she looked Adrien in the eyes— and then purred.

Loudly.

Horrifyingly loud.

When will this nightmare end?!

“Eep!” She stumbles back, flushing. “I don’t mean to, I swear!”

Adrien gives her that bemused smile, one usually reserved for Marinette after she did something weird or awkward, and chuckles, “It’s okay, Milady. No judgment here.”

“Thanks.” She said, still covering her cheeks.

“Are you, um… going to detransform, too?”

She knows that Adrien— Chat— has wanted to know who she was since the day they met. She wanted to know too but the fear of Hawkmoth getting to them outweighed the desire.

But thinking about it and actually telling him were two different things.

“I meant what I said,” Bluebell told him, voice steady but wary. “You avoid me and… and the way you look at me— we’re friends but just don’t… don’t get your hopes up that I’m someone you’ll like.”

“I already know I like you, with or without the mask.” He reassured, that usual comforting smile on his lips that got him that sunshine-boy reputation. “So please, bugaboo? I really want to know who you are.”

She bit her lip, holding her breath for a couple of seconds as she held herself in place too, leaning against the wall besides the windows.

She felt trapped, worried, but also excited.

She wanted him to know, even if she was scared.

She was far enough away from him, she could probably make it to the window and escape if he looked absolutely revolted by her.

She’s faced rejection before.

She could do it again.

Even if it would hurt really, really bad.

“Claws in.” She said, face turned to the ground as she trembled.

Oh God, there was no turning back now.

The soft baby blue light surrounded her, the drowning, beating wave-like power of the Miraculous leaving her as Plagg appeared in the air next to her arm— him being tackled by Tikki before he could even say anything, followed by a loud ‘shush’ from the Kwami.

Marinette stood there, shoulders raised with tension and her heart pounding behind her ears. She had the strongest urge to hide her face from view, to run away from all of this.

From his reaction.

“You’re… you’re Marinette.” Adrien said this slowly. He got a nod in reply. “And you think that I— Adrien Agreste— don’t like you?”

She gave another nod, not trusting her voice to speak.

She couldn’t even look at him. How pathetic could she get?

“I don’t hate you, Mari,” He said this and Marinette shyly looked up, flushing at the look of adoration on his face. He could still look at her like that? How? “I always noticed how uncomfortable I made you, I was just giving you space. I didn’t mean to make you upset, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” She rubs her arms and looks away again. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, just nervous.”

“Why?” Adrien questioned, voice almost cracking. “Do I intimidate you or something?”

Marinette couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Intimidate me?” This is said with a giggle and she makes her amused eyes meet his. “You think you’re intimidating? Cute.”

“Hey,” His tone turned slightly offended and she bit her lip as he pouted. “I can be intimidating and scary.”

“Yeah?” She teases, leaning forward with that twinkle in her eyes— playful like how she could be with Chat. Because this was Chat. “Do it. Be scary. Intimidate me, ‘o frightening one.”

“Urm, I d-don’t think I can right now. You’re you.”

“Does your brain feel like it’s going to explode?” Marinette asks, blue clashing with green as she tilts her head to the side.

“Kinda.” Adrien admits sheepishly. “I’m still trying to understand why you get nervous around me.”

“Uh,” She blinks, a sheepish smile coming onto her face. “I know you’re in love with Ladybug but— but I’m not her, I’m not that great. I’m just me. And you think of me— Marinette— as a friend. But… I’ve kind of been in love with you since Dupont?”

“You what?”

“Been in love with you,” Marinette’s face burned. “Since I was about thirteen. I hated you at first, you were friends with Chloe and the gum on my seat didn’t help but then I noticed how kind you were. Smart, selfless. Lonely, too but you don’t like talking about that so I’m sorry for mentioning it— I just, I fell in love with you and that’s why you always made me nervous because I didn’t think you could love me back.”

“Marinette,” Adrien looks at her, tenderness and seriousness oddly mixed in his gaze as he slowly walked towards her. “I’ve been in love with you from the second we met. And don’t say that you’re not Ladybug because you are, both inside and outside of the mask. You help people, you protect them. You’re passionate and strong and stubborn and I love you. I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say it before you believe me but I’ll do it until then and even after. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts— mph!”

With slight tears pricking her eyes, Marinette closed the distance between them and wrapped him into a tight hug, his now familiar body both making her feel calm and make her heart race.

“I love you too.”

Adrien sighs contently, wrapping his arms around her too. He held her gently but tightly, not willing to let her go but not risking hurting her— not that the silly kitty could.

Suddenly he chuckles and says, “That explained why you purred.”

“I said not to tease me!” She whined, pulling back enough that she could look up at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re so mean, Chaton.”

“And you’re stunning, Bugaboo.”

The comment made Marinette squeak and dunk her head, desperate to get her blush out of his eyesight— but a soft yet collapsed hand holding lightly onto her chin stopped the action, Adrien bringing her eyes back up to look at him.

“You believe me when I say that, yes?” He asks. “Because I mean it. Everything about you is gorgeous, I don’t know how I didn’t realize the two girls I fell in love with were the same one.”

“It’s because we’re both stupid,” She giggles, stering the converastion away from compliments, unsure of how much warmer her face could get before she combusted. “But I also blame your hair.”

“My hair?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Mhm,” She hums, reaching up to play with the soft strands as she had done so hundreds of times before. “You always have it so neat but as Chat it’s messy.”

“I like it better that way,” He explains, a slight purr to his voice. “It’s more comfortable.”

“Both styles are equally cute, so you’re lucky.” She murmurs absentmindedly, still focused on his hair, ruffling it slightly with a smile. Then she notices the ear cuffs he had on and blinked in surprise. “Are those my earrings?”

“Huh?” Adrien blinks his eyes open and Marinette giggles at his dazed expression. Even without the ring he was her silly kitty who liked to be pet and cuddled. “Oh, yeah. They changed when I touched them.”

“Your ring did too,” She shows him. “It was weird, I thought it would’ve stayed silver.”

“Yeah, me too,” He poked the ring and then gently slides it off of her finger, putting it on his own before reaching up for the earrings and giving them back to their rightful owner who puts them off and sighs in relief.

This magic was familiar— this magic was warm and like home and tight enough to keep her safe, not like swimming in an open ocean and gasping for air only for her lungs to fill with water instead.

“Mari?”

“Yes?” She looks up at him, seeing questions in his verdant eyes.

“Have you, um, seen something bad that I haven’t?”

It was admittedly a weird question, one that through her off guard but one that also made her think of the word drowned in water and dust, of the Eiffel tower toppled over, of watching herself crumple and fade, of seeing the moon cracked open in the sky and a boy in white with blue, crying eyes and a broken soul.

It made her think of how she saved him— but how she hadn’t saved her Chaton all those times, how she watched him die and fade and get captured and tortured and taken control of.

It made her think of the trauma of watching her city burn and the people in it all relying on her since the tender age of thirteen to save them all.

It made her think of all the times she had to protect everyone by herself because she lost Chat after he risked everything to save her.

Realizing she got lost in thought, Marinette startled and focused back onto her partner, “Yes, but don’t worry Minou. I can handle it.”

“I want you to be able to talk to me about those things,” Adrien murmured softly. “Tikki told me that all her Ladybugs live through things Chat Noirs don’t— but we’re a team. I want to share that burden with you.”

She sighed— and then she told him about Chat Blanc, she told him about how Paris drowned under the weight of their love three years ago and she’s been scared for him ever since, she told him about all of it.

By the end, they were both in tears and holding onto each other.

A weight feels like it was lifted off of her shoulders, like she was light enough to just float. It felt good talking about it, to let go all of that terror and heartache she accumulated over the years.

“You’re stronger than I ever knew,” Adrien kisses her forehead and her heart flutters. “I’m so proud of you, my little kitten.”

“Adrien,” She whines, hiding her face into his shoulder. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” He chuckles, lightening the mood. He always had a way of doing that. “Complimenting you?”

“Yes, I’m not used to it!” Marinette exclaimed. “You’re making me blush too much!”

“What if that’s my goal?”

“Then it’s a bad goal.”

“Meow-ch, Princess.” Adrien puts a hand over his heart. “You hurt me so, but fine. If that’s a bad goal, then what’s a good one?”

Feeling brave, she shoots him a wide smirk, “Kissing you until you’re breathless.”

He just stares at her, gaping as he blinks.

“What, Kitty?” She teases, leaning closer. “You flirt all the time but can’t take it?”

“No, it’s j-just… I completely support that goal.”

Laughing, Marinette rolls his eyes before cupping his face and kissing him— the feeling of his soft lips on hers sending a shiver down her spine. It was passionate and slow and loving, a kiss that told both of them all they had been feeling for these years.

It was a kiss that told them no matter what happened, they’d be okay.

So they kissed, again and again until they lost reality.

Going through the pain of having their Miraculous switched was worth it.

#switched miraculous #adrien x marinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #ml ladybug #ml adrien #mlb fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous kwami #kitten #purring #Chat Noir and Ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #mlb fic #fluff #fight #akuma attack #long post #long fic

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ao3bronte · 5 years

Text

🐞Little Lady Paws🐾

0 | 1 | 2

Ladybug gets into a "hairy" predicament when an akuma capture goes wrong.

A collaboration between @ao3bronte and @yamina20-blog 💕

“Remind me why you thought this was a good idea?”

Surrounded by animals, Chat Noir lands gingerly on the top of a light post and scowls spectacularly, having just peeled himself off the sod in the park across from Sacré-Coeur. This isn’t their first animal themed akuma and it certainly won’t be their last, judging by the increasing frequency of angry protesters flooding the streets of Paris; there’s always something to protest it seems, and Le Papillon was having an absolute field day targeting them all.

Today’s protest themed akuma of the hour? FrankenFur!

“Hey!” Chat rubs at the grass stain on his belly as a panicked giraffe goes running by and sticks his tongue out at the akumatised monster who’d just tossed him like a Frisbee halfway across Marcel-Bleustein-Blanchet Square, “This wasn’t my idea, this was your idea!”

Ladybug throws her hands into the air, “You led it over here!”

The monster, dressed in a pseudo animal activist uniform and spouting endangered animal facts to all who would listen, throws another magic smoke bomb at a group of unsuspecting visitors, “There are too many tourists at the front of the Basilica! There’s less chance for collateral here and besides, we weren’t getting anywhere anyway. We still don’t know what the object is!”

The smoke clears to reveal a family of farm animals lying on the ground and Ladybug swoops to get out of the way of the panicking herd, landing on a tree branch, “Could it be in the protest sign it’s holding?”

Chat flexes his hand and spins his baton in his other, steadying himself, “It’s worth a shot.”

Ladybug calls for her Lucky Charm and immediately notices the strings of fairy lights hanging atop the pergola the akumatised protester is standing upon as well as the sewer grate embedded in the concrete directly across from it. Dodging a flock of ducks, Ladybug catches a red and black polka dot crowbar and swings it between her fingers, “Chat, try and tangle it up in the string of lights over there.”

Chat follows her gaze and nods once, leaping from the lamp post to the tree tops. Meanwhile, Ladybug runs over to the sewer grate and lodges the business end of the crowbar beneath the steel lip, quickly prying it open.

“AhhhAAAAGHH!”

Ladybug peers into the puddle of rainwater in the divot by the grate and uses its reflection to watch as Chat expertly dislodges the fairy lights and drops them unceremoniously onto the akumatised monster. The creature screams as it tangles itself in the mass of wire and glass and tosses its limbs every which way like a deranged octopus, howling curses at the top of its lungs.

Amongst all of the chaos, Ladybug launches her yoyo and wraps it around the monster’s legs, unbalancing its already lopsided stance. Chat sees where she’s going with this and drop kicks the creature in the back just as Ladybug yanks the string, causing the akuma to topple forward towards the manhole, and with another well timed feat of synchronised backflip ingenuity, the dynamic Cat and Bug duo have the monster falling headfirst into the hole and Ladybug is certain she’s got the protest sign in her sights—

“LADYBUG!”

She looks up and feels time slow to a crawl, watching as the akumatised monster uses the very limited range of motion it has in its arm to launch one last grenade at her face. Ladybug can’t move, not really, not when one arm is reaching for the sign and the other is wrapped up with her yoyo and—

It feels a little like falling into a giant tub of Perrier, the tingling sensations on her skin almost overwhelming. There’s static in her ears and panic in her heart as she closes her eyes and holds her breath against the onslaught of colours and shapes swirling passed her eyelids, a cacophony of noise so loud she can hardly stand it. She reaches up to cover her ears but there’s no moving in this strange purgatory as the world falls out from under her, shoving her to the cobbles with a thud that jars her bones. She tries to cry out but there’s no sound save for the high pitched squeak coming out of her throat like a siren, and it occurs to her suddenly that something has gone very very wrong.

She opens her eyes.

The world is suddenly a lot larger than it was before.

HELP!

“CATACLYSME!”

Ladybug looks up just in time to see her gigantic, skyscraper of a partner disintegrate the sign with his fingers and backhand the monster into the manhole, reaching down with his monstrous hand to pick up her yoyo. Ladybug shrieks insistently as he slips his finger through the loop and tosses it at the fluttering black and purple butterfly, quickly capturing the cursed insect in his grasp. He calls the yoyo back and stares at it for several moments before bending down into a crouch, holding it out for her to see.

“Ladybug? What do I do now?”

Throw the crowbar up into the air and say Miraculous Ladybug!

Chat gulps, “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Ladybug looks down at her tiny paws and does a double take, What AM I?

“Now that I could understand,” Chat says, reaching out with his other hand. She gives him what she hopes is a truly devastating stink eye and rears up onto her hind legs with a particularly petulant squeak, “You’re a hamster.”

A HAMSTER?! Ladybug’s jaw drops and her paws are on her face immediately, patting every part of her she can reach. She’s got whiskers! And huge front teeth! And fur! Fur everywhere! Why am I a HAMSTER?!

Chat has the gall to laugh, “Oh my god, you are so adorable.”

I AM NOT!

“Come on, get on my hand before someone steps on you.”

NO!

Chat places his open palm on the ground and beckons her forwards with his fingers, “There’s like, three elephants over there and the last thing we need is for you to get squashed.”

Indignant, Ladybug tries for several humiliating moments to cross her arms and finds herself entirely at a loss. She glares at his outstretched hand with contempt for almost as long before finally giving in and marching over, determined to stay on her hind legs like any self respecting human should. She gets a good look at her body then, the soft tuft of white fur covering her belly and her tiny hind paws. How the heck was she supposed to purify the city as a hamster?!

Momentarily distracted, Ladybug stumbles over one of Chat’s claws and falls onto all fours as the ground disappears beneath her, HEY!

Smiling indulgently at her little squeaks of horror, Chat brings her to eye level, “Thank you. Now, should I just throw this in the air and say Miraculous Ladybug?”

Ladybug nods in earnest, chirping as she mimes the movement with her paws. Chat tries his hardest to suppress his giggles and turns his attention back to the crowbar in his hands.

“Here goes nothing. Miraculous Ladybug!”

Ladybug tracks the crowbar with her eyes and watches as it falls back into his hand, still as spotted and corporeal as it was before. She tugs on his thumb and gestures for him to try again.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” he yells with gusto, tossing it yet again into the sky. When it falls back down in front of him, Ladybug realises with an awful sense of dread that she is very much screwed, “Ladybug? I think we have a problem.”

No kidding! She tugs on her whiskers and rubs her eyes, What are we going to do?

Chat sighs, “I guess we can’t purify the city like this. We’ll need to go see Master Fu.”

Ladybug nods vigorously and chatters as Chat clips her yoyo onto his belt and glances away as a flock of ostriches run across the square, “And quickly! This is otter pandamonium!”

Chat Noir’s laughter at his own puns turns to howls as Ladybug bites down on his index finger with all the prim resentfulness she can muster; she may have been turned into a hamster, but at least some things would never change.

To be continued...

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #ml fic #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #hamsterbug

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ghosstkid · 3 years

Text

lonely is my hoping, empty is my sweet thing

title from the song ‘daybed’ by FKA Twigs

this short is a part of this series <3

Wet, slushy snow gathers on the stones in the courtyard. The rose bushes are skeletons, all thorns and ice. A grey sky hangs over the quiet house. There is no moon, no stars, only thick grey clouds and cold, wet snow.

The lady of the house watches the large, wet snowflakes land on the stones. She sits at her little writing desk by the window, her quill in hand but no words come.

The clock on the mantle ticks, idly counting down the seconds. To what exactly, she is not sure yet.

As much as she longs for a letter, she dreads what it might say.

She wants to hope for the best, that soon her home will be full of laughter, love and warm dinners once more. She wants to hope that the clouds will part and the warm sunlight will bring her lovely garden back to life. She wants to hope that a warm spring day is coming, and on that day, she will admire the roses, arm in arm with her two captains.

“How beautiful they are this year,” she imagines James saying. Francis will agree in his quiet way and she will smile, full of pride for her roses. She imagines them wandering through the gardens together to a blanket under the shade she had prepared for them, complete with a simple lunch and sweet treats.

“Yes,” Ann whispers to herself. “When they return, we shall have lunch outside every warm day.” She pushes aside the blank letter page in front of her and makes a note to remind the maid. That was what they wanted when they returned from Antarctica, she remembers. They had spent many afternoons in the shade, eating fresh fruits and drinking in the warm summer sun.

“Why would we ever go to such a hellish place when heaven is right here?” James had asked from where he lay with his head resting on Ann’s lap, pillowed by snow-white lace and ruffles. Francis merely smiled, lifting his wine glass to his lips. He sat beside Ann on the blanket, watching the birds in the trees around them.

Yes, Ann thinks now, wet snow falling on the dead grass outside. They would sit out there again, drink wine and make promises to one another that they would never leave.

Once they returned she would never let either of them go again. She felt like a girl again, hoarding her precious dolls so no one else could have them. She would lock them away in her dollhouse; only she would brush their hair and sew their buttons back on when they fell off.

The cold wind rattles against the window, startling her. The clock ticks. She dares to glance at it, sighing at the late hour. She slowly turns her gaze back to the blank page before her.

She does not know what to say. She knows her words will be read by the Admiralty before the letter is passed on to James, wherever he may be. The thought of someone other than James reading her letter sends a rush of anger through her.

“They do not care,” James had spat as he stormed into the room where she sits now, his anger unsettling her.

“W-Who does not care?” Ann had managed to say. James’s hands were trembling. She listened as he struggled to explain what had been said to him, his brow creased with pain, his eyes wet and hopeless; they had hope for the passage, rescue was only second. Her eyes welled with tears as she watched him sink to the floor in front of her. With a heaving sob, he laid his head on her lap, clutching her skirts tightly. She ran her hand through his curls gently. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Go for Francis,” she managed to say. “Bring him home…”

She now grips her pen so tightly it might snap. She wipes her eyes. Maybe she should instead write to Francis, hope for his health and a swift return home. Or maybe she should write to both of them.

Or maybe…

She throws down the pen. Ink splatters onto the desk and the white, blank page. Feeling the pinprick of tears in her eyes, she pushes herself away from the desk and stands, wiping her hands on her navy blue skirt. Her hair escapes its bun, strands falling down the nape of her neck and brushing against the lace of her white blouse.

She stops in front of the window, staring out into the darkness. In the distance, she can see their pond and in the middle of it, two little islands. James had named them. Erebus and Terror, always side by side.

Like lovers.

She turns away from the window. She glances around her quiet sitting room. The candle burning on her desk flickers, illuminating the soft lounge chairs and the bookshelf. A vase on the side table is bursting with roses.

“I think I would read more memoirs if they were half as dramatic as this,” James had laughed from where he lounged on the brocade chair, the tails of his coat spilling out from under him. In his hands was a new book, its green cover glinting in his gentle hands. Francis leaned over the back of the chair, reading over his shoulder. He looked casual in his white shirt sleeves and red waistcoat.

“I think they are dramatic enough...” Francis muttered, earning a snort from James.

The rain suddenly patters on the window, making Ann jump.

She presses her hand over her chest as she turns away from the empty chair. She forces herself to take a deep breath.

The letter can wait a little longer, Ann thinks.

She reaches for the candle on her desk. Her step is quick as she flees from the room, finding herself in the long, dark hallway. Her glowing candle illuminates the large paintings on the walls. The darkness feels as though it might suffocate her, her candle doing its very best to fight it back.

She wishes for her captains.

She hurries for the stairs. She grips her skirts tightly in her free hand as she jumps up the stairs. Her candle flickers as she reaches the landing and the window there.

“How beautiful!” James had called up to her from the bottom of the stairs, his beautiful uniform dripping in gold. She had laughed as she spun around in her pink ball gown. The smell of roses was in the air.

“Yes, quite beautiful,” Francis had said as he descended the stairs to the landing, just as lovely as James in his uniform. He reached for her gloved hand.

Now, that hand clutches the candle shakily. Ann forces herself to keep climbing. Her slippers are silent on the steps. She reaches the top of the stairs. The hallway up here is just as dark. She almost runs towards their bedroom, her navy skirts swirling around her. She fumbles with the door handle, throwing open the door. She jumps when it hits the wall. She quickly shuts it behind her, leaning her head against the wood.

She never liked the dark.

She glances around the candlelit room. The ornate headboard looms over the bed. The small chandelier shimmers in the dancing candlelight. At the far end of the room, she can see herself in her vanity’s mirror, trembling and alone.

“It is always dark in the winter months,” Francis had said. Ann sat at her vanity, staring at him through the mirror with wide eyes as he gently braided her hair.

“That must be terrifying…” she whispered. Francis shook his head.

“We create our own light,” Francis said quietly. He secured the braid with a blue ribbon.

Ann slowly walks further into the dark, silent room. Rain and snow ooze down the windows. The clock on the mantle ticks. The fire in the small fireplace is dying. Her gaze drops to the trunk at the foot of the bed. Slowly, she sinks to the floor, setting the candle down beside her. She grips the lid and pushes it open.

The treasures inside are not the kind that one hears about in bedtime stories of pirates on the high seas but they are no less valuable to Ann whose greedy fingers clutch the heavy, navy blue fabric, the gold embroidery above the tails glinting in the candlelight. She pulls the uniform coat close, pressing her face into it. She can smell them; the salty ocean wind on a summer day.

“Ann… Why do you make that face?” James had said when he finally returned from the furthest south. She had run down the stairs to him, throwing her arms around him. He had picked her up, spinning her around with joy. When he set her down, her nose wrinkled.

“You stink,” Ann laughed. James frowned, looking down at himself. He ran his tired hands over his coat, an embarrassed blush rising on his whiskered cheeks.

“I, well… It has been… It is not easy to-”

“I will draw you a bath. It’s no matter,” Ann insisted and to reassure him more, she pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek.

Yes, she thinks now. A bath. For both of them. They will have a warm bath waiting for them when they return home.

She sets the beautiful coat aside, careful not to wrinkle it and reaches into the trunk. This coat is heavier, worn and dirty in some spots. She runs her fingers over the loose, golden buttons and wonders if she should sew them on more tightly. She wraps the heavy greatcoat around herself, the large fur collar brushing against her cheeks.

How warm it is.

How delightfully heavy it is, as if being embraced by a lover.

Her fingers clutch the greatcoat tightly.

Slowly, she stands. The greatcoat is heavy on her shoulders as she bends to pick up the candle. She places it on the bedside table, beside a vase filled with pink roses. She falls onto the bed, pulling the coat around herself. The bed is too big for just her; too empty, too cold.

“Your feet are cold, my love.”

“Are they?”

“Yes, James.”

“How cold?”

“Stop it!”

There had been a flurry of pillows and quilts before they finally settled once more. Ann had giggled, hiding her face in the soft pillow.

“They are not that cold,” Ann laughed.

“Frank is just a dramatic old man,” James said as he curled his arm around her, narrowing his eyes at Francis over her shoulder.

“Ann how can you sleep with such a rude man in your bed?”

“How can I sleep with two of them?” They had been taken aback. She giggled again. “I sleep quite well.” The bed was warm, their arms gentle and heavy around her. “Quite well…” she repeated with a content yawn. James’s arm tightened around her. Francis pressed a kiss to her curls.

Yes, she thinks now, pulling the heavy greatcoat closer around herself. There will be a warm bed when they return home.

#my writing #the terror #annrossier #lady ann ross #james clark ross #francis crozier #posted this on ao3 yesterday lol #im creating the lady ann content i want to see in the world #also thank you so so much for supporting this little series it really means so much to me #im trying out new techniques and just writing what feels good and im so happy to see people enjoying it <3

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twilights-800-cats · 4 years

Text

<< Allegiances || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 14

Feathertail stretched her jaws wide in a yawn. She glanced up at the sky, which was beginning to brighten with dawn’s light. Stars still twinkled in the blacker parts, while the full moon was beginning to fade behind the trees. Now that the Gathering was over, Feathertail wanted nothing more than to curl up in her nest and sleep till sunhigh.

She followed her Clanmates across the Twoleg bridge and onto the trail towards camp, her pelt brushing with her brother’s. He always seemed eager and happy, no matter what. Feathertail suppressed another yawn, wondering if he was somehow sending his tiredness to her.

Feathertail let herself fall back a few paces. The sound of her chatting Clanmates was beginning to make her head pound. She watched them from the back of the patrol, saw their bright eyes and twitching whiskers, and wondered…

They’re so happy, she thought. Feathertail’s eye drew to the river, dark and moving slowly. Her reflection wavered on the surface, and Feathertail saw how tired she looked. Why aren’t I?

“Feathertail, can we talk?”

Feathertail lifted her head, finding that Tawnypelt had slowed her step to walk beside her. Blinking in surprise, Feathertail stammered, “Y-Yes, of course.”

Tawnypelt tilted her head and led the way into the reeds, off the trail that their Clanmates were taking. Feathertail followed, her pelt prickling in the chilly morning air. Had she done something wrong?

They headed upslope for a time, the dawn light sending pink and yellow claws through the sky above. As the sun broke over the far horizon, Tawnypelt stopped, sitting down among the reeds with her tail curled over her paws.

Feathertail sat beside her, recognizing this place. RiverClan’s territory was low, for the most part, with only a few large hills to speak of – this was one of them. Covered in long grass and heather, ringed by a fox-length of stone on one side, this was the tallest hill on RiverClan territory. It was nothing compared to the steep slopes of WindClan’s moor, but from here a cat could see nearly every part of RiverClan’s land – including the camp, which drew Feathertail’s eye.

The cluster of willows looked like any other part of the landscape up here – no cat could tell there was a whole camp there, with reed-woven dens and walls, not unless they already knew where to look. Feathertail could pick out the camp entrance from here, and she spotted Leopardstar leading her Clanmates through and into the shelter of the willows.

Feathertail glanced at Tawnypelt. The Clan deputy, her former mentor, was looking out at the camp, too, her amber eyes even. Frowning, Feathertail had to ask: “What is it you wanted?”

Tawnypelt turned her muzzle. “I heard you talking to Graystripe and Silverstream at the Gathering.”

Feathertail frowned. Oh… that. She knew that Tawnypelt would have no issue with her talking with her parents, especially at a Gathering, but if she’d overheard…

“Do you intend to go to ThunderClan?” Tawnypelt asked.

Feathertail looked down at her paws, guilt prickling her pelt. Graystripe often offered the prospect of her and Stormfur moving to ThunderClan to be with them, but tonight he had been a little more earnest about the proposal. Feathertail wasn’t surprised that Tawnypelt overheard.

“No,” she answered, meeting Tawnypelt’s eye. “RiverClan is my home.”

Tawnypelt’s eyes flashed. “Are you sure?” she pressed. “Lately you’ve been distant – you hardly join patrols; you almost always hunt or eat on your own… I might be the only one who overheard Graystripe’s offer, but I’m not alone in wondering if you might be happier elsewhere.”

Feathertail bristled indignantly. “I am loyal to RiverClan!” she insisted. Who is saying otherwise? She looked at the camp, imagining the cats stirring within. What gave them the right to gossip and judge her behind her back?

“Sheathe your claws, Feathertail,” Tawnypelt meowed, her whiskers twitching. “All I’m saying is that I think many cats would understand if you left. I would understand. After what happened with Bluestar…”

Feathertail’s shoulders fell. It didn’t take much for her mind to turn back time to Bluestar and LionClan. RiverClan territory had been so strange, then; painted with blood and stinking of crow-food, a hill of bones towering above every cat. Feathertail’s stomach churned.

“You stayed, despite that,” she pointed out.

Tawnypelt nodded. “I did,” she sighed. “But it was hard, and I wasn’t young, with parents in another Clan asking me to come and live with them every other moon.” The deputy’s gaze was sympathetic. “Had Tigerstar stayed in Goldenflower’s life, Brambleclaw and I might have thought differently – but they weren’t mates when we were born. RiverClan was all I had ever known.

“You and Stormfur, on the other paw… you grew up with Graystripe telling you stories of ThunderClan, while RiverClan warriors watched.” Tawnypelt looked out over RiverClan territory. “It’s no secret that so many of the older warriors doubt your loyalties – don’t look at me like that, I’m most certainly not one of them!”

Tawnypelt sighed, her tail-tip flicking. “You hardly interact with your Clanmates, other than Stormfur or Mothpaw. You do your job, Feathertail, but I can see that your heart is troubled. Please… I only want you to be happy. If that happiness lies in ThunderClan…”

Feathertail looked down at her paws. “I belong to RiverClan,” she meowed. “I know I do, I just… it’s hard, having family in another Clan. But Stormfur is here, and wouldn’t leave him; not for anything.”

“You don’t have to tie your life to Stormfur’s, you know,” Tawnypelt pointed out. “You two are warriors now, not kits in the nursery. You can walk your own paths.”

Feathertail bristled. “Would you have left Brambleclaw?!”

“No,” Tawnypelt reasoned, “but he wouldn’t have been upset with me for doing what makes me happy – I don’t think Stormfur would be, either.”

“I am happy!” Feathertail insisted, growing hot under her pelt.

Tawnypelt blinked, her gaze soft. Feathertail wondered why she was studying her so – doesn’t she believe me?

“All right,” Tawnypelt decided, getting to her paws. “When you want to talk, know that I am here.” She flicked her tail. “Come on; let’s get home.”

Feathertail swallowed. She doesn’t believe me, she decided. She pushed herself to her paws and followed Tawnypelt down the slope and through the reeds. RiverClan is my home! she thought, flinching back as a reed snapped up into her face. I belong here!

I belong here!

———————————————————-

“Where are we headed?” Feathertail wondered, her muscles burning.

Brook was waiting at the top of a steep trail, her tail dangling almost as if it were a lifeline for Feathertail. Gray, Sheer, Sun and Boulder had already made it to the top. Sun was looking over the side, her eyes wide. Boulder’s gaze was trained on the sky, while Gray and Sheer were talking quietly.

Conscious of Sun’s gaze, Feathertail put all her strength into climbing the trail. Stones clattered down behind her paws as she scrambled to the top in leaps and bounds, finally reaching Brook’s tail in a shower of dust that made Gray sneeze.

Brook’s whiskers twitched in amusement. Feathertail shook the dust from her mud-clumped pelt – something she was never going to get used to – and sat on her haunches to give her stinging pads a lick.

“We’re going up,” Brook meowed, nodding up the path.

Feathertail frowned, following her gaze. The trail they were on was steeper than any other Feathertail had used with the Tribe so far, and it looked as if it were zig-zagging its way up to the waterfall that cascaded over the Path of Rushing Water.

“It’s called Eagle Rock,” Sun chimed in, ears pricked excitedly. “Guess why!”

Feathertail frowned. “Because eagles live there?”

Sun nodded. Brook went on, “Most of the eagles in the mountains roost there, yes; but it is also the source of the waterfall’s water.”

Feathertail frowned. “But isn’t it dangerous to go where the eagles nest?”

“They don’t live there during frozen-water,” Sheer explained, stretching. “They come there in freed-water, to build their nests and make chicks. Some will be there now, I’m sure; but with clear skies they’ll be busy hunting for themselves.”

“Come.” Boulder’s mew was curt.

The massive cave-guard led the way up the next leg of the steep path. Feathertail followed, determined to keep up despite the soreness from her travels. This will just make me stronger for the path ahead, she told herself. I’ll be able to lead the Clans through any terrain!

She slipped on a pebble, skidding back a pace. Her paw throbbed, and Feathertail sighed. She looked up at the Tribe cats that were walking so effortlessly over the stony earth. Great StarClan, are they made of stone?

Brook padded up to her side, nudging her forward. “I’ll walk with you,” she promised.

“Me, too!” Sun purred. “This path is still hard for me, sometimes.”

Feathertail felt a prickle of gratitude for the two Tribe cats. Ushered on by their presence, she kept going. It will be hard to say good-bye, she thought. At least to Brook and Sun…

Her thoughts turned to the conversation the night before. The Tribe cats acted oddly, sure, but perhaps that was just because they were so isolated up here? Maybe they were like Purdy, trying to cling to strangers like friends? They haven’t been outwardly mean, she thought, pressing on. They probably don’t get many visitors up here. Their ways are just different…

Right?

The trip was long and arduous, and by the time they reached the top, Feathertail was beyond exhausted. Still, she recognized this spot, up here at the top of the waterfall. Her stomach churned – though the water had gone down, this narrow path was where she and the others had been swept away by the flood and driven down to the pool below.

Brook must have seen her hesitation. “You and your Clanmates went the wrong way,” she explained, sympathy in her voice. “The trail you were supposed to follow was far gentler.”

“I wish we’d known,” Feathertail sighed, looking ahead. The tree that had caused the surge of water was nothing more than a charred stump at the far end of the path. The rest of it had been carried down the waterfall with the Clan cats. The Tribe cats had taken in what debris they could carry for the elders to carve stories onto. “The rain was so bad; we couldn’t see where else to go.”

“I’m sure Brook will show you,” Gray purred, glancing back at the small brown tabby with twitching whiskers. “You’re like her… what did you call them? Apprentices? You’ve been like her apprentice since you arrived.”

“Gray!” Brook spat, bristling.

“It’s true,” Sheer purred, tail winding over her back. “You’ve not hunted without her since she got here!”

Feathertail’s pelt burned, but she imagined that Brook’s was on fire. The small brown she-cat looked very upset, with her tail standing straight up and bristled to the ends of its fur.

“Quiet, all of you,” rumbled Boulder. The big tom sighed and gestured with his tail. “Let’s keep moving.”

Brook didn’t meet Feathertail’s gaze as the patrol moved on, following the narrow path beside the water. Feathertail swallowed, forcing herself to focus on not falling into the rushing water just a tail-length away instead of how Gray and Sheer had poked at their Tribemate.

They walked through the valley that Feathertail recognized, heading for another trail that ramped upward on the other side. Gray was the one to point out the far smoother track that pointed towards the sunrise, where the Clan cats would have continued had the storm not caught them off guard. Feathertail swallowed, feeling like a kit for not noticing such an obvious path, even in the rain. What kind of RiverClan cat are you?

Boulder and Sheer led the way up the next trail, walled by stone and water. There was little to look at but the occasional clinging scrub or withered, dying tree. The stone was cold here, and Feathertail wondered if the sun ever reached this place.

Finally, they broke through, and Feathertail was stunned by the sunlight. It was another open expanse ringed by stone, but here there were trees aplenty, and even grass. Feathertail was stunned as the patrol padded onto the far softer earth that ringed a great pool of water, fed by uncountable other waterfalls at the far end of the trail.

“Wow,” Feathertail breathed. The air here smelled of growing things and grass, not stone or water. It was so different. “This is beautiful…”

“Many herbs grow here,” pointed out Sheer. Her tail flicked to the trees – they were spindlier than trees elsewhere, but they were growing far stronger and were still clinging to their leaves, unlike most trees in the mountains. “And the eagles nest high in these trees during freed-water.”

“We take their chicks, sometimes,” Gray purred, licking his lips. “They’re quite tasty!”

Feathertail was still stunned by the sudden color. She couldn’t help but pad up to the shore of the water and look down into its depths. Looking past her mud-covered pelt, she was shocked to discover a bunch of dark shapes flitting back and forth beneath the surface.

“Fish!” she purred, looking back at the patrol. “There are fish here!”

Brook’s eyes lit up. “I know!” she purred back. “That’s why I thought hunting here might be good – you mentioned your Clan could fish. I wondered if you might teach us how.”

“Of course!” Feathertail was breathless. She looked back at the water, paws tingling eagerly.

“Really?” Gray seemed shocked. “That’d be very helpful. Only Cold has ever spoken of fishing, and her memory has grown unreliable in her age.”

“I still like her stories, though!” Sun chimed in. The young cat slid up to Feathertail’s side, crouching beside the water. “So, what do we do, Feathertail? Just push our heads in?”

Feathertail’s fur fluffed. “Oh, StarClan no!” she insisted. She pushed Sun back from the edge of the pool. “Firstly, you don’t just lean over the water like that, not unless you want the fish to go right for the center. You’ll never get them then!”

Sun obeyed, scrambling back from the water’s edge. Feathertail positioned herself properly, judging how her shadow might fall with the sun in its current position. It was very easy to do, but Feathertail sensed that without the ground cover of the forest – where the reeds and bushes would cast their own shadows to better hide a cat’s – it might be more difficult to fish here.

If the Tribe doesn’t fish, though… Feathertail was certain these fish might not know to be spooked by a cat’s shadow. Better safe than sorry.

Brook sat beside her, copying her position. Gray, however, announced that he would go looking for land prey while they were busy – he didn’t want to crowd the waters. Boulder and Sheer took up positions on smooth stones, where they could watch for the eagles which gave this part of their territory its name.

The Tribe cats needed little instruction in how to be patient. Feathertail wasn’t surprised, not after seeing them hunt; patience was paramount to keeping the Tribe fed, it seemed. Even Sun could sit still, despite her youth.

Feathertail demonstrated how to hook a fish with her claws, and was shocked at the size of trout she’d managed to catch. She killed it with a quick blow of her paw, and took a moment to examine it. It was much bigger here than in the forest, likely because of how untouched the fish were.

Brook soon had her own fish hooked, and Sun leaped to kill it. Sun’s catch was lost due to clumsy paws, but Feathertail assured her that it happened even to RiverClan cats – sometimes fish were just slippery.

As the sun arced overhead, Sun finally managed to catch her own fish. Feathertail caught another, and then helped Brook catch her second, too. Finally, Feathertail looked down at their pile of fish and declared that they needed to stop.

“The fish will all be hiding now,” she meowed. “We might have gotten a little overzealous!”

Brook licked her lips. “This will feed the Tribe for sure,” she purred. Her eyes shone as she looked at Feathertail. “Thank you!”

“That was fun!” Sun agreed, shaking out her paws.

Gray returned then, a rabbit in his jaws. His brow perked at their catch. “Better luck than I had,” he admitted. “Boulder, Sheer, do you see all this food?”

Boulder nodded, his tail-tip flicking. “We will eat well tonight.”

“I can’t wait,” purred Sheer, eyes shining. “Good job, Feathertail!”

Feathertail nodded to Brook and Sun. “It wasn’t just me,” she admitted, feeling bashful. She nudged Brook playfully. “With a name like ‘Brook Where Small Fish Swim,’ I’m not surprised!”

Brook flattened her ears, looking embarrassed. She nodded to the series of streams that ran away from the massive pool of water. “My father named me for this part of our territory, actually, when my littermate and I were born,” she admitted.

“Oh, really?” Feathertail pricked her ears with interest. Boulder, Sheer, and Gray were beginning to gather up their catch, while Sun took over keeping watch for eagles. “Well, it’s a great name. You have a littermate?”

Brook nodded, her eyes flashing down to her paws. “They’re gone,” she said quietly.

Feathertail swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she offered.

“It’s all right,” Brook meowed, shrugging it off. She lifted her muzzle, her eyes glittering. “They walk their own path now. Our ancestors keep them.”

Feathertail could see that she wanted to change the subject, and understood. She would find it hard to talk about Stormfur, too, if he died. She looked at Sun, who was padding over to the cave-guards, and wondered, “So… if Sun is training to-be a cave-guard, why does she hunt with prey-hunters?”

Brook seemed to welcome the change in topic. Taking a breath, she explained, “A to-be can always change their mind – and cave-guards hunt, too, though not as often. To-bes will make use of all the skills they’ve learned as a softpaw, like how your apprentices do – but Sun is ultimately to-be a cave-guard.”

Feathertail frowned. “I wish the Clans had more choices for our roles.”

Brook shrugged. “Things work well this way,” she meowed. “I run swiftly, and I’m small, so I can easily get into cracks where prey likes to hide – I make a good prey-hunter. Boulder is big, with thick fur and large paws; he can easily fend off a hawk or eagle. It works for us.”

“But what if Boulder wants to hunt instead?” Feathertail wondered. “Or what if Sun doesn’t grow thick fur or large paws? Will she have to be a prey-hunter?”

“If that’s what happens, then perhaps so,” Brook meowed in reply. “That’s the way things are, for us; we do what we are made best for.” She shrugged. “Why change it?”

Boulder and Sheer were leading the way out of the grassy valley. Feathertail didn’t want to go, yet, and she didn’t like Brook’s answer. If I lived here, I’d probably be a cave-guard, then, she thought. But she didn’t like the idea of staring at the sky, looking for hawks all day, nor could she think of only hunting. Would I have to fight to be what I wanted to be?

“What about Stoneteller?” she wondered, catching up to Brook at the back of the patrol. “What was he before he became Stoneteller?”

“He was always meant to be Stoneteller,” Brook answered, looking somewhat confused. “The Stoneteller that came before picked him as a kit, for his strong connection to our ancestors – just as this Stoneteller picked Snow.”

Feathertail felt her pelt prickling with mist as they headed through the cold stone tunnel. “He didn’t want to be anything else?”

“Why would he? Becoming Stoneteller is the highest honor a Tribe cat can have!” Brook looked surprised, her eyes glowing in the dim light. “He received nine lives and can commune with our ancestors and heal our Clanmates – what is more fulfilling than that?”

“I-I don’t know,” Feathertail admitted, “but what if he was scared? What if he wanted to be a prey-hunter, or something? Can he even have a family as Stoneteller?”

Brook’s whiskers twitched. “Of course not,” she answered patiently. “Stonetellers do not mate or have kits, nor are they allowed to appoint blood kin as their successors. It keeps things fair.”

Feathertail’s pelt flashed, and she thought of Mothwing. It doesn’t seem fair to me. She was aware of Sheer glancing back at them, eyes flickering curiously. Feathertail swallowed, deciding to lay off of those questions for now, in case she offended Brook and the other Tribe cats. I’m just a stranger; I shouldn’t be questioning their way of life like this. It’s just so different; but there’s a lot that we share.

Brook seemed to sense that she wanted to change the subject, too. “You mentioned while we were fishing that two cats fishing together is good,” she mewed. “Was there someone you fished with in RiverClan?”

“Stormfur, mostly,” Feathertail answered. Mothwing, too. “Or myself. It works just fine on your own.”

Brook looked curious, but her gaze was focused forward. “You have no mate that you would fish with?”

Feathertail swallowed, taken aback by the question for the moment. Brook wasn’t looking her way, and the other Tribe cats weren’t listening, it seemed. Feathertail coughed and answered, “N-No, no mate; though… there was a cat I was interested in.”

“Oh?”

Looking at the stone walls, pretending to find them interesting, Feathertail assured, “She wasn’t as interested in me as I was her.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Brook murmured. Feathertail felt their pelts brush together. “That must have been hard.”

“Well…” Feathertail swallowed again, facing forward. “She… She made her choice. She’s on her own path, now, and it makes her happy.”

“Then that is what matters, isn’t it?” Brook wondered. “That she is happy, and you are happy for her?”

Feathertail glanced down at the small she-cat. The little tabby looked so earnest, ignorant of Feathertail’s turbulent heart and how Mothwing’s rejection had sent her into such upheaval.

I am happy for Mothwing, really, Feathertail reflected. She was a good warrior, but… She recalled Mothwing’s face when the moth’s wing sign was discovered. That light in her eyes… Being a medicine cat is where she belongs.

“Yes,” Feathertail agreed, a warm feeling creeping into her. “Yes… that’s what matters most.”

#tb au #tb moonrise

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cruoremprys · 5 years

Text

The Van Der Linde Gang as Werewolves 🐺

Part 2 || Part 1

A/N: Oof there we go. It was fun!! I know some people mentioned drawing them based off these and hey! Go for it!! I wouldn't mind being tagged because I'd love to see it!!

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy

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Karen has striking blonde wavy fur that covers her body evenly, like a retriever. Large cocked ears and a medium length muzzle. She's very bulky muscle wise and the fur on her chest is very thick and luxurious. Her tail is long and has a natural curl to it. Large paws and well cared for nails. She has a pretty strong bite, very muscular jaw. It's difficult for too pry her jaws off against her will.

Tilly is a small and agile werewolf, rich black fur and distinctive markings. Her muzzle is very elegant and she has a very noble profile. Her ears have a slight rounded tip and stand straight. Her fur is short and thick, even length across her body. All 4 paws are darker, like socks, than the rest of her fur. She's very difficult to catch when she starts running.

Mary Beth is a small werewolf as well and very agile. She has a fox shaped face and ears, which have longer fur around the base of them. Slender paws and sharp nails. Her tail has very long and silky fur, a natural curl. Tends to be on the vocal side. Probably one of the few people who can keep up with Tilly. It makes them both very good thieves. They can get snatch something and be gone before you even know it.

Abigail a surprisingly small werewolf. It tends to take people off guard. Which is exactly she uses to her advantage. Can't catch her if she's already gone. Her blue eyes seem extra reflective, especially in the dim light. Unfortunately, her fur isn't very thick and she doesn't like the cold at all. Medium length and very warm brown in color. Incredibly sharp claws. Long, fluffy tail.

Jack is pretty young and he is literally puppy sized. He's got his mum's fur and his dad's eyes. Werewolf pups tend to be really wiggly and unfortunately go through a second teething. Gotta lose those baby wolf teeth, right? By the time he grows up, he looks a lot like his father. Slightly smaller. His eyes also have that strange extra reflective quality.

Reverend Swanson is a decent sized werewolf. Very "traditional" looking. Some of his fur has white streaks in it due to age. Lots of whiskers around his muzzle. Because of his addiction, the intoxication tends to carry over. What do you mean shifting doesn't suddenly mean you're sober? Granted, an intoxicated werewolf is still dangerous. Though he's more likely to follow you around and whine and whine and whine. Big cuddler who doesn't let you go. Pretty decent sized paws and a long tail with long, silky fur.

Lenny is a young werewolf and he's honestly still growing into his form. A little clumsy when he first shifts but is getting much more comfortable. Big floppy ears. Pretty standard size and build, though he's got a really nasty bite. A lot like Karen, his jaw almost locks and you'll be damned trying to pry him off. His fur is almost entirely black, save for white socks and black spots. Heeler crosses have that marking often. Real friendly face and strong tail, hurts when it hits you.

Pearson is more of a bear than a wolf. Big, round ears. Big old belly. His paws have some webbing, which helps with swimming. He's got two coats, helping to keep out the water and cold. Though the fur can get kind of oily looking. It's real shaggy. Really big jowls. Slobbers a lot. And I mean A LOT. Not very fast but very capable of throwing his weight around. He's also like, really good at dragging things around. Horse down? Hook Pearson up.

Micah is a stinky werewolf. Stinky stink boy. He's surprisingly large. Yes, he's got a tum tum in his werewolf form. Micah takes a lot of pride in his teeth and claws, spending a lot of time caring for them. Nothing else. His fur is very long and tends to get sticks and burdock stuck in it. It's very blond in color, double coated. Has a very shepherd like muzzle and ear shape.

Josiah Trelawney is a very unique werewolf. Very much like a greyhound. Slender and muscular, short and clean cut fur. His muzzle has some extra thick whiskers. Has merle fur coloration, surprisingly. Some slightly fluffy tuffs of fur from around his ears. Spends a great deal of time caring for his claws and teeth, they are practically gleaming at all times. His tail is slender but with another tuff of fur along the bottom.

Strauss isn't a werewolf. He's a vampire. He just lives in peace with the werewolves.

Uncle is just Uncle. Neither werewolf or vampire

#coyote writing #red dead redemption #karen Jones #tilly Jackson #mary beth gaskill #micah bell #leopold strauss #Josiah Trelawney #uncle #abigail roberts #jack marston #orville swanson #reverend swanson #lenny summers #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #Pearson #werewolves

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scenariosofkonoha · 6 years

Note

If you’re not busy, headcanons of bedtime, sleeping and morning routines of Kiba, Naruto, & Neji with their s/o?

Not busy! Well… *looks at the other asks that need to be posted* nope not at all!!😅 These were so much fun!Asks like these get my wheels turning. I really I hope I got Neji right though. That man is a quiet storm. Anyway…I hope you like it Anon! ~ Admin Little Lace 🎀

Kiba

Bedtime

Bedtime for them is a three part exercise. If they were all home for dinner first order of business is bathing. Not so much for the S/O, but their lover and his partner. Dynamic marking comes with a cost and it is a smell that can be distinctive. For the sake of their sheets, they have come to force the two to bathe.

Now they do it with no problem but when they had first moved in with Kiba and Akamaru, they chased them around the front yard with a hose.

Bathing is two parts, first Akamaru, who surprising likes baths and being washed. He prefers when Kiba’s lover does it. They are nicer and tell him how wonderful he is. While Kiba usually grumbles that he can’t smell anything and this is all stupid.

After Akamaru, it’s either Kiba or his S/O. Although, he would prefer it be him and his S/O, tonight he stinks and they would just fool around anyway. After his S/O is clean, they usually wear his shirt to bed. Tsume, as a gift buys the man matching pajama sets. This was to ward the boy from walking around the house naked, now it just gives his partner something to wear to bed, while he wears the bottoms.

Second part is turning down the bed. A bed that Kiba certainly had not made or will make in the morning. This when they talk about what they may have to do for the morning or show off new bruises or scrapes from training.

“Where’d you get that one?” they asked touching his chest, a rather large bruise could be seen cradling one of his ribs.“Over rotated, hit a tree.” he lamented, his lover smiled leaning to give the spot a soft kiss. Akamaru then began whimpering drawing their attention.“Aww, Akamaru do you need a kiss too?” they cooed going over and giving the dog’s head a kiss. Akamaru giving his friend a sly look. The ninken paying him back for the training accident. Kiba rolled his eyes grumbling.

The final step is pure chaos. The large mattress is great, it really is. But on one side there is a dip. Said dip is uncomfortable and none of them want to sleep on it. So they all wrestle to avoid sleeping on the side. His S/O plays dirty, tickling Kiba’s sides to get him to move. Kiba just manhandles them out of the good spot. And Akamaru, having a size advantage of all of them just crushes who ever is on that side until they move.

Tonight the canine has come out the victor thus putting the two lovers in the dipped end.

“We need to get a new mattress…” they groaned into Kiba’s side.“Yeah yeah,”

The truth is he will never get a new mattress. The joy he gets out of play fighting for the side makes sleeping on the crappy side of the bed all the more worth it.

Sleeping

Sleeping position are generally dictated on the winner of the side battle. So there can be numerous positions. However they end up, his S/O is always pushed against him in someway. While they are asleep it is usually his time to re-scent them. His sense of smell is senitive and the last thing he wants to smell in the middle of the night is another man. He once punched Naruto just on that principle alone.

He nuzzles their neck and lets his hands wonder, even leaving little nips on his mark on their neck, keeping it fresh. He’ll catch hell in the morning when they see it. In his mind it isn’t a problem. They knew what they were getting into when they agreed to go out with him.

Akamaru has a habit of kicking and running in his sleep. It was cute when he was a puppy but now that his legs are long and his feet the size of a preteen’s, it’s not cute anymore. Sometimes one of them will comfort him, sometimes they will laugh and give him his space. But there has been more than one occasion he has been sent to the couch.

Covers come as a little bit of a challenge. Kiba throughout the night cannot figure out if he does or does not want covers. If he doesn’t his lover might freeze thus cuddling farther into him. If he does, because of his high body temperature, they can get too warm and push him away.

Being a cuddler by nature, he will always seek them out and pull their body back to his. There is no escape.

Morning

Kiba sleeps really heavy. Almost like the dead. So he is not the first to wake up. Neither is his S/O. If it weren’t for the ninken, no one would be getting out of this house on time. When Akamaru gets up he wakes Kiba first. The two of them generally go running in the morning. A well placed cold nose to the neck or back of he knee cap wakes the man for the two of them to start the day.

Before he leaves he wakes his S/O to tell them that the two of them are going out. This is when the man is the gentlest, kissing their forehead, waking them with a whisper. While the two of them go running, his lover wakes up. They go to at least get coffee and/or tea started before they decide on what they want for breakfast.

Breakfast is a group activity. A ritual started when neither had a mission or work to attend to that early. Both of them work together, talking and laughing. Akamaru at their feet patiently waiting for his share to come flying his way.

After breakfast, they head off for the day. No matter where in the village his love needs to be, the shinobi and his partner, first walk them there before going off to begin their day. With a kiss to their cheek and a swat to their behind, the Inuzuka runs off before they can slap him.

Naruto

Bedtime

These are times the knucklehead ninja lives for. Growing up, he didn’t have anyone to come home to at night. So to have his S/O there, Naruto is forever excited. To him it is like having a real family so for a while he wanted to do everything together. Getting ready for bed is one of those things.

He will forever be the sweet boy friend that helps his lover change their clothes. He doesn’t even cop a feel…well most times. In his mind, he is taking care of something that is important to him. So he will even help them brush their hair too. In the end, every sleeping outfit is topped with his old sleeping hat. They look a little too cute for him to stand.

Though they may not always bath together, they’ve grown a strange ritual of brushing their teeth side by side. Thankfully, they now have two sinks. In their first apartment, there was an incident that occurred after one ill time spit to the sink… Naruto had never been so afraid for his life.

Since his bed is never made turning it down isn’t really a concern. They’ve been together so long that they each have a side of the bed. His, on the right closer tot he window, and theirs, on the left closer to the lamp.

Due to the position of the bathroom, his S/O will always climb over him to get into the bed. They could walk around but what is the fun of that? Plus Naruto isn’t complaining in the least. Sometimes he will hold them there and tell them how beautiful they are or tease him about having to pay a toll. He can never remember what the fare is so the prices change all the time.

“That’ll be three kisses,”“Yesterday it was one,” they laughed perched on top of his lap.“Really?” his question serious as he tried to think back. “Well union rules, yeah so… we had to up it.” he’s partner shook their head paying the fee as slowly as possible.

It might be how they pay the toll that makes him forget what it was to begin with.

With his mission schedule, Naruto isn’t always home at this time. It starts to get more and more rare as he takes on more responsibility. This is generally the time where they talk. Nothing serious while in bed, that was a rule they had set. Just silly things, shopping lists, pranks, the epic battle of water that ensued from fixing the sink. Little things, mundane things, things that mean the world to him.

As they lay together in the dark, he loves to make them laugh. Their laugh is honestly the last sound he wants to hear at night for the rest of his life. Well that and the sleepy way they say:

“I love you,”

Sleeping

Sleeping next to Naruto is not all sunshine and rainbows. For some reason, his lover has yet to figure why, the man cannot stay in one spot. So yes, they may have started out spooning, his arms around them, face in their hair. But that isn’t the way he stays.

Throughout the night, he tosses and turns trying to get comfortable in all manner of positions. He may not look it but he is incredible strong and has been known to pull them into whatever position would best suit him. As sweet as that might sound, it can be pretty terrifying being near dragged clear across to the other side of the bed.

That is better to the alternative. if he isn’t holding them he will fail his arms. His S/O has taken to putting their head under the pillow so when his hands come flying they don’t have a repeat visit to the hospital. It took some pretty heavy convincing to the medical staff that his partner’s broken nose had not been intentional.

Don’t even get them started on his occasional snoring. It makes them want to smother him with a pillow.

Naruto has survived three of these said attempts.

To combat all of this, his S/O has grown to laying on his chest holding his body much like a spider monkey. He can’t move very much and if he rolls it isn’t too dramatic of a change.

All and all, it isn’t so bad in the end. Sometimes the whisker marked man mumbles in his sleep. All the sweetest things, how much he loves them, how beautiful they are, some observation about their body…and ramen. Rating higher that ramen for Naruto is always a win.

Morning

Much like Kiba, the Sunshine boy of the Hidden Leaf is a heavy sleeper. And tends to over sleep. His S/O has taken advantage of that from time to time by setting his clock forward before getting up themselves. Nothing makes their day more then watching their boyfriend run around the house proclaiming how late he is.

On more than one occasion, they have sat at the kitchen table watching him freak out and run out the door. Just to come back within the hour giving them a glare before going back to bed.

On normal (non pranking) days, they wake up first starting breakfast hoping the boy wakes to to the smell. If he does, he’ll join them at the table. If he doesn’t, his S/O will go to wake him, only to find themselves pulled back to bed with the promise of five more minutes.

After breakfast, his S/O will help him shave. They sit on the counter carefully running the razor over his face. He, just rubbing circles into their thighs while they work.

“There, all finished,” the smiled running the wet rag over his face. “Didn’t even miss a spot.” Naruto looked in the mirror reviewing their work, running his hands over his face.“It’s perfect, good job (Name),” the look of pride beaming on their face warmed the ninja’s heart. Resting his forehead on theirs, he gave a contented sigh as they caressed his clean shaven face.

Due to enjoying their company a little to much, Naruto will not notice the time. It is up to his partner to notice for him. If they don’t, he will still be running out of the house late…just to come back 5 minutes later to retrieve his missions reports he left…

Neji

Bedtime

Being a Jonin, aiding the man family, training and all the family that comes with it tends to take up most of Neji’s time. Lately, it doesn’t seem him he and his S/O get much time together. Anytime to do get to share is important to him. For his partner it is treated as a time to unwind and allow him to de-stress.

He can find his silence in them. Just quiet from the craziness of the world. He can mediate while they start the bath. When it is ready they both bathe together. This is when he slowly becomes less and less tense. His S/O doesn’t expect him to immediately open up about everything that has happened the past few days.

The Hyuga will let them wash his hair and take care of him. With him taking care of everything, its a relief to just not worry about something. His S/O will now tell him, first that he was missed then of small inconsequential things. Prices at the market, an adventure Hanabi and they had, always speaking as if no time had past between them.

As they do, Neji keeps a hold on them. Just enjoying the feel of their body near his.

After their bath, his S/O has him sit on the futon and works on braiding his hair back for bed. This ritual had been added after one to many times of accidentally laying on the man’s hair in bed too frequently. By this point, he is relaxed enough to tell them all that had happened. The missions, the training sessions the possibility of him taking on students. And they listen encouraging him and silently laughing at the thought of him with a trio of genin in tow.

“I don’t think it is that funny,” he grumbled as they tied off the braid.“The thought of you with three Genin comical.” They chuckled. “Can you imagine instructing a tiny Lee?” The thought tired him out more than he believed possible.

Sleeping

Sleeping is not as rambunctious as Naruto or Kiba. Neji is a sound sleeper when he finally gets around to sleeping. While his S/O might go straight to be, the Hyuga could stay up an hour or two reading. If he isn’t reading he may watch his S/O sleep, watching how calm they are and thankful they are safe and here with him.

When he does settle down to sleep, he pulls them to his side. Their head rest on his arm and holding to him. He will run his fingers through their hair and kiss their forehead, reminding them how much he loves them.

The man doesn’t move to much in his sleep. Once he is asleep, only the moving of his head or an arm will move. If his S/O moves in his sleep he will move a hand to them. Though he may not pull him back to him, knowing where they are allows him to sleep easier.

He isn’t the soundest sleeper, he will wake up throughout the night. He may even get up to get some air. Every once in a while, his lover will notice the absence of his presence and go to him.

“Why are you awake?” he asked as they settled themselves down next to him on the porch, the blanket wrapped around them.“Miss you,” they sighed cuddling to his side. Neji smiled wrapping his arms around him as they fell back to sleep.

Them sleeping like this isn’t uncommon. He will carry them back to bed, pulling them back to his side and continuing to rest.

Morning

Mornings where he doesn’t have a mission are rare. If he doesn’t have to leave at the crack of dawn he will spend time in bed with his S/O. It is very unlike the earlier raiser but sleeping in like this wasn’t going to kill him. Sleeping in can be used loosely since he isn’t sleeping just laying there with his eyes closed.

“Don’t you have training soon?”“Soon, but not now.”

Usual mornings would consist of him mediating while sorting out his schedule with his S/O making sure he, at least, gets tea in him before he leaves. He doesn’t really have breakfast in the morning picking to eat closer to noon. He would live his love with a kiss on their cheek before going off to train by himself before assisting Hinata and Hanabi.

Sometimes they will watch him, slightly fawning over him. He gets embarrassed about it so they won’t do it too often. Most mornings they will go off to tend to their morning responsibilities, after bringing food to the exhausted shinobi.

But today he just wants to be with his partner. At least until a messenger comes along calling him to the Hokage’s office.

#ask #Kiba Inuzuka #Kiba #Kiba Headcanon #kiba inuzuka headcanons #kiba scenario #Naruto Uzumaki #uzumaki naruto #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto #neji hyuga #neji #Neji headcanons #neji scenario #naruto imagines #admin Little Lace

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irrelevantwriter · 6 years

Text

Mates (Part 4)

Pairing: Negan x OFC

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, A/B/O universe, smut, unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: Camilla and Negan settle into a new normal. Smut and fluff ensues.

A/N: Here is the last and final part. I was really fluffy with this…I just couldn’t help myself. I felt like Negan and Camilla deserved a happy ending. I’m sure you all won’t mind ;). Thank you guys for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting. It means the world to me! Hope you like it and enjoy!

______________________________________________________________________

Part 4

Three years later…

Her eyes fluttered open, the soft light of the morning peeking in through the curtains. She tried to place what had woken her up when she felt the whiskers of her mate at the back of her neck, tickling the flesh. She instinctively displayed her mark to him and he lapped at it, his crotch pushing hard against her ass.

“Negan,” She moaned, his hand already sliding under the oversized shirt she wore to bed.

“My sleeping beauty is finally awake.” He chuckled, his fingers teasing the waistband of her lace panties.

“I was having such a good dream.” She whined, wanting him to cease his teasing and slip inside her. He laughed again, finding pleasure in her pain.

“About me?” He asked, turning her on her back so he now hovered over her. Her dark eyes found his, still laced with sleep and lust. Her breasts were pushed against the V-neck of the white shirt she wore. The shirt originally belonged to him, but he had to admit she looked better in it. He could almost swear that her nipples were visible through the fabric. She looked positively sinful.

“Maybe.” Camilla teased, pushing her breasts up and towards him. His gaze predictably followed the movement, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Such a cock tease.” He nipped at her breasts, pulling a gasp from Camilla’s lips. He shifted the shirt up her torso and moved her panties to the side. She gripped his bare shoulders with her nails, using her foot to push his boxers down. He helped her and sheathed himself inside her. He moved without skipping a beat, setting a frantic pace with his hips. She clung to him, whimpering and moaning into his ear as he hit her cervix over and over again.

“Oh fuck, baby…” He growled, pulling her leg up so that it wrapped around his waist. He pulled her in for a kiss, seducing her with his lips.

A sound from down the hall had them momentarily freezing, listening for an intruder.

“What the hell was that?” Camilla asked, legs still wrapped around Negan as he remained still inside her.

“Don’t know. Don’t hear anything else.” He began to move again, catching her off guard.

“What time is it? Don’t you have your meeting?” She asked, suddenly aware of the day and time. Negan wasn’t letting her turn the mood that easily though. He kept his pace, his lips now suckling at one of her nipples.

“Father Gabriel can fucking wait.”

“He already doesn’t like you, Negan…” His name carried off into a moan as he hit deep inside her. He held her leg up and pushed against her chest, the new angle introducing her to that ledge she loved to fall from.

“Yeah well,” He groaned, feeling the shift in her walls as he stroked against her. “I’m pretty sure since he’s been getting dicked down by Rosita that stink eye he used to give me is gone.”

“Don’t you mean getting ass? Rosita doesn’t have a dick.” Camilla replied, her words breathy and hurried as Negan continued to plow into her. Their ability to hold a conversation while fucking an ability practiced over time.

“I’m one-hundred percent certain Rosita has a dick and that it’s bigger than mine.” He retorted with a chuckle. The sound of his laughter always made her heart warm over with love, but now, with their current position, the action made her pussy flutter.

“Can’t argue that.” Camilla goaded, her own raspy laugh passing from her lips.

Negan eyed her below him, his hips coming to a stop. He had a smile on his face, but the wickedness that lay behind it had shivers running down her spine. His hand began to drag down her body to her clit, her body arching into his touch.

“Hey now baby, you fucking know for a fact that’s a fucking lie.” He pressed on her clit at the same time he thrust slow and deep within her. “You’ve told me on numerous fucking occasions how you can feel me in your throat. How I always manage to hit that one spot that has you squirting like a fucking fire hydrant. Am I wrong?”

His voice and words had her completely forgetting what they were even discussing. Her brain fogged over and her eyes shut as his hips continued to reach depths she didn’t know were possible. Their headboard started to move with their movements and her thighs shook as his knot swelled inside her.

“No knot, Negan…we can’t.” She warned, knowing they were too short on time to indulge their biology.

“Fucking shit.” He grunted in acceptance, but not happy with the choice. “I love fucking you, Omega. Love you taking my load. Want you walking around all day with my cum inside you.”

She came with a force that had her back feeling as if it was going to snap in half. She pulled at his hair, eyes clenched shut in extreme pleasure. “Oh, Alpha…” She purred as euphoria seized her and in return, captured him as well.

“I’m cumming.” He growled, hips plastered against hers as he emptied himself inside her. Camilla moaned at the familiar feeling, welcoming it with a widening of her legs.

“Goddamn,” Negan grunted as he collapsed on top of her. She let her fingertips dance in his hair, the action one she knew he loved. “I fucking love you.” He said with a soft kiss to her claim mark.

“Love you too.”

A soft crying penetrated the air and both adults started to laugh, the intimacy of the moment gone.

“I’ll grab her. You wrangle the boys.” She shifted as Negan begrudgingly removed himself from her and flopped onto his back. She immediately walked to their bathroom to clean up while Negan dressed. Camilla pulled on a pair of boxers and pulled her hair into a bun. She met him in the hallway; Negan now dressed in sweats and a white t-shirt. They shared a kiss, his hand palming her ass before they departed ways.

Camilla walked to the door with a pink bow adorned on the outside. She pushed the door open, smiling at what awaited her. The brown haired, one-year old girl was standing in her crib with wide dark eyes. There was a sheen of tears in the innocent orbs and soft whimpers left her pouty lips. Her arms reached for Camilla, signaling she wanted to be held.

“There’s my Sofia. Momma’s here, pretty girl.” She cooed, loving the way the little girl smiled and buried herself into her chest. Camilla moved about the room, changing Sofia’s diaper and getting her outfit ready for the day. She moved to the rocking chair in the corner and lifted her shirt, letting the child suckle at her breast. Sofia had taken well to breast feeding. And she was thankful for that. The boys had not.

At the thought of her twin boys, a loud roar and laughter filled the room just down the hall. Negan was supposed to be waking them, but it sounded more as if he was riling them up.

“Dad!” Came the excited cheer, a litany of giggles following. A small pattering of footsteps ran down the hall and down the steps, running towards the promise of food no doubt. The door to Sofia’s room pushed open and Negan walked in with a soft smile.

“There’s my girls.” He boasted, coming to run a hand along Sofia’s soft curls. His eyes caught hers, love bursting from this hazel gaze. They reminded her so much of their daughter’s eyes. Expressive and always alert. “You look fucking gorgeous.” He murmured, a finger tracing the flesh of her breast not currently occupied by their daughter’s hungry lips.

Camilla couldn’t help the blush that swept onto her skin. It wasn’t the first time Negan had shown her his appreciation for feeding their children, but it never failed to make her arousal for him skyrocket. She could see the lust in his eyes and the way he licked his lips. He’d suckled at her breast on more than one occasion and the action always sent both of them careening off into oblivion.

“You should go check on your sons. If they’re anything like you, they’ve already got the kitchen in flames.” She joked, hoping to diffuse the situation before they started something their children wouldn’t let them finish.

He laughed, knowing the statement to be true. “Alright, I’ll handle the heathens. You lovely ladies hide out here till it’s safe.” He winked and with a kiss to his daughter’s forehead he was gone, leaving Camilla once again hot and bothered. The man was too good looking for his own good. And he happened to be an amazing father. She’d lucked out with the man she now called her husband.

_______________________________________________________________________

Fifteen minutes later and Camilla had Sofia hoisted on her hip as she entered the kitchen, the sound of talkative three-year old boys lighting up the room. She rounded the corner and could see Negan at the stove flipping pancakes while Noah and Isaac sat at the table playing with their toys, still clad in blue and green pajamas.

“Momma!” The boys both called upon seeing her enter the kitchen. She smiled warmly, taking in the way their wild manes of dark hair made them look like their father. Their children were a perfect mix of each of them. All had dark hair like both of their parents, but the boys had her features and smile. Sofia was practically a clone of her father, dimples and all.

“Morning, my baby boys…” She kissed them each on the head as she passed, her daughter squirming in her arms.

“Come to Daddy!” Negan cooed, stealing Sofia from her and immediately eliciting giggles and spit bubbles from the little girl. She was a daddy’s girl indeed. And Negan was wrapped around her finger.

“Dada!” Sofia babbled, grabbing at Negan’s scruff and mouth as he attacked her with kisses. The sight made her heart beat erratically and her stomach flutter with the butterflies that had been taking residence there since the day she’d met Negan. She watched as he held her in his large arms, continuing to make breakfast and making it all look ridiculously easy.

Camilla moved to the counter to grab the cup of coffee Negan had made for her and sipped at the warm liquid. Her eyes took in her surroundings, taking in each member of her family. It was mornings like these that she was thankful for the most. Mornings that started out reminding her how rich she was in life, despite the still chaotic state of the world.

“Alright guys, let’s eat!” Negan bellowed as he dished out plates of pancakes. The boys cheered as their father passed them their favorite breakfast, Sofia clinging to his shirt. Camilla sat down and helped each of her sons with their food while Negan made a plate for them. It was a routine learned over time. A routine that had not always gone so smoothly, especially with twin boys.

They were just about to dig in when a knock sounded at the front door. Camilla eyed it cautiously before Negan sighed and handed Sofia off to her, rising from his chair at the head of the table. The boys ate through their pancakes at lighting speed, syrup coating their tiny hands and faces. She kept watch on her sons but was focusing on the interaction taking place at their front door. She could hear voices, but she couldn’t pick up on who it was or what was being said. Her curiosity got the better of her and she walked towards the door, her sons deciding to follow at her feet. She caught the tail end of Negan’s sentence once she appeared.

“Gotta talk to the missus and tame the rugrats before I head out…”

Father Gabriel stood on the other side of the open door, his eye catching hers as she moved to Negan’s side and shifted her daughter on her hip.

“Everything okay?” She asked, aware that something was going on. In the years since Negan’s release, he continued to have check-ins with Father Gabriel. Almost like a parole program. Camilla found it absurd, but Negan followed through and walked the line they laid down for him. The years had been smooth, with little incident. And having children didn’t leave room for much else. They were normal residents of Alexandria now. They worked and provided for the community while doing the same for their own little family.

“Yeah, baby…Father Gabe was just requesting my presence at some sort of meeting with the council.” Negan explained, the skepticism in his voice apparent. Behind them, Noah and Isaac loudly crashed together two light sabers as they acted out an imaginary battle.

“We’ve had some newcomers. The council wants to meet with them and the community to decide if they’ll be able to stay. Your presence has been requested.” Father Gabriel explained, a small smile coming to his lips as Sofia reached for Negan. Her father took her without question.

“Newcomers? Thought we didn’t do that anymore.” Camilla asked.

Father Gabriel nodded. “Yes, well it seems Judith took it upon herself to make that decision.”

Negan laughed, his mouth splitting into a wide smile. “I’ll bet she fucking did.” His face grew pensive as he seemed to think back on something and addressed the man again. “Who requested I be there?”

“Michonne.” He answered simply, the surprise on Camilla’s and Negan’s faces not lost on him. Michonne had kept a wide berth of Negan since he’d been acclimated into the community. It was interesting and suspicious for her to specifically request his presence.

“Any particular reason why she’d want Negan there?” Camilla asked, moving so that she leaned more into Negan’s side, his warmth comforting her.

“She feels you’ll be able to get a good read on them.” Neither of them said anything as they thought about Father Gabriel’s words. It was a shocking request, but perhaps it meant the start of something new. “Meeting is in an hour.” He offered flatly.

Noah and Isaac chose that moment to cling to their parents’ legs and gaze up at their visitor, light sabers still clutched in their syrupy hands. “Hi!” They both greeted, manners and politeness an interest of theirs for the moment. Camilla was enjoying it because with Negan as a father she was pretty sure they were going to have a very colorful vocabulary.

“You have a beautiful family.” Father Gabriel said with a warm smile, a sense of wistfulness entangled in the words. Both Camilla and Negan couldn’t help but to beam at his comment, once again reminded of how much they had in a world where many had so little.

“Thank you.” Camilla replied, fingers tangling in Isaac’s hair below her.

“I’ll be there in an hour.” Negan stated and the man on their porch nodded, retreating back to the street and off to conduct official business.

“Well, that’s new.” Camilla said as she shut the door and ushered the boys back inside. They immediately went back to their game of pretend while Sofia nestled into Negan’s chest, eyes drooping. His large hand spanned her back and then some, rubbing delicate circles on the cotton of her onesie.

“He also mentioned something else…” Negan said, eyes watching her closely. She stayed silent, waiting for him to fill her in. “Possibly another group. A dangerous one.”

“What’s he telling you for?” Worry already working its way into her words.

“Guess they’ll need some help with them.” He said with a shrug, trying for nonchalance but failing.

“I need you to be careful, Negan.” Camilla pleaded, moving to grasp at his shirt. Her neck was angled up, her short stature not making it a comfortable position. His hand not occupied with holding their daughter clasped her hip, pulling her to him.

“I always am. Gotta keep my babies safe.” He assured her, his hand now rubbing her back in the same comforting manner he’d been doing to their daughter not two minutes before.

“I love you.” She said, the words professed with heavy emotion and not just out of habit. He easily picked up on her concern and tipped her chin up to him, eyes piercing her soul, much like they did the first time they’d met.

“Love you too, baby. Always.” He replied, mirroring the sentiments in her words. He held her tighter against him and she instantly found herself relaxing, though his words still played in her head.

Something was coming. Something was in the air.

#negan #negan abo #negan fanfiction #negan x ofc #negan twd #negan the walking dead #the walking dead #twd #abo universe #abo

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iotaarcane · 6 years

Text

XnationalZ

BUSY BLOW TORCHING DABS

Door doesn’t open it glides on rails like the entrance impales tracks leave scabs

They pick at them like a flurry of energy inertly imperil and in peril while sterile the enemy isn’t at his post busy blow torching dabs

Laughing gas to a mass of brain cells that might as well been in cell or for sale to sell for the fact of not being usable like loud theater patrons at musical

Stomping footsteps upsets the stairwell, Hercule as security

picks you up and while airborne you get the farewell.

A good bye of sorts a great try physically the body with a little help contorts but spiritually its dormant in hibernation protected in a fort. The outside winds set him to the maximum miles per hour bumping over the welts. Swelling is mainstream never go underground. A golf club waving at lightning

A day filled with bad decisions. A perfect life a nocturnal health freak who is slowing dying because of the hours he choose to sleep. North of the sauna lives out of water a piranha gills with chankla…. Flip flop the hip hop to this mantra…. They got Bin Laden but the tomatoes slices cut au gratin and their insides just by general principal all rotten every good deed all but forgotten.

They attempted because it looked great on camera to have caughten Sadam but the madam of the ministry secretly had many a body double dangling feet from noose corpse of course wasn’t who they thought they had bad DNA tests fail when not given. You’ll just straight believe without any thought or thinking in a closed space trying to identify who is stinking. This planet in that galaxy is sinking below where it once orbited and your whole existence is defined of what you afforded how toxins are absorbed y’all point the finger iota morbid.

As blood dripping on everything like a loop of hemoglobin training goblins to run tasks on apps. Hairless ape with only a little fur missing - hand and the wrist slice is still fresh magenta pink placenta veiny underwent chef prep, impractical to prevent a story to end like this begin as it went, we muster the emotion to climb street curb like step, tentacle suction cup girlfriend tales like cotton swab on bunny ear manifesto. One piece bikini transacting - posts no bill. Open register the creditor turned into a collector, an editorial of breadwinner meanwhile back in the western hemisphere sky is too clear - cuts retina sundries colander fluid filter an array of enemies attacked the command post. The mid morning foray angrily adjusted. You could totally notice the moment the ward went kaleidoscope twist 33 degree. As the crow fly viewpoint saw the west wing extend and to what seems like an elbow bend but they aint drinking consuming much of nothing except orders from the chief who dictates the whereabouts and you gotta be down cannot have doubts they don’t come in shouts - illest hand signals in the game it’s an artistic beauty to see the tic for tac counterattack he who gets the most vagina must be the Mack. Diesel easel drawer no undies they were left in dresser drawer and if it don’t work out oh no the lawyer is not pro bono yet the retainer fixed the teeth apprehended the beef no more issues.

Him whose piss poor planning continues will be facing the sultry seductress Miss Hughes 4 feet 6 shoes opposite of the elephant of Hindus infamous for the pop ins on miscues So real was breakfast cereal mammal sauce from cashews. Nipple hula hoop sports car aficionado drop top in the coupe where they kept the chickens. Jumpy trampoline mouth fortune reader foreseen vulgar obscene potty lips unclean that contingency of the attorney of where wonder land on a poca dot which marks the spot. Accuracy solar hot, lift off broke apart space shuttle heat pads over hot not matter if they were chosen or not. Nudity not as bad as could be frontal, wide opening little exit funnel so many come backs you can’t shoot down every rebuttal. We double as secret agents where birds are fowl and flagrant evil as the vortex in control of this spaceship. I got it plannded see use that ladder granted to climb into the zoo – carefully pinpoint were from the top we landed snag a handful thus huck right between their eyes candid close to the nose as possible rancid so they go crazy - ape shit

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++NOTHING and LIKE it

You’ll get nothing and like it. No matter how much you despite it.

Like you wanted that new whip but you were too good for the bus so you bike it.

Like it ever mattered – your best bud did the same inebriated on the way home dump truck made him splattered we identified the body basically because only thing left the t-shirt he wore that night tattered. I want a hamburger – with a vegan patty in the current state of Armageddon it doesn’t look good brethren Xnational that’s why I rock the same hairdo as a Tibetan. No a cheese burger yall overreacting on this meat is murder so is a relentless ethic of work especially when exhausted and it hurt. We’ve been threatened by a heavy weapon. I was reading about Reagan and outline seems Pagan that’s as good for you as dippin Copenhagen spittin telling the surgeon do not beckon the question I love when my gummies are redden. Cancer of the embouchure is more than a Horoscope sign I concur. I want a hot dog. Smothered in mustard covered in meat trimmings ground up chemicals as the fixings. Bought my rhymes with a great bargain from Groupon. Even added a discount photoshopped counterfeit coupon. Creating to the beat the loops on. I don’t know is a Bentley a Rolls Royce because in the back seat the window lowered and I was offered grey poupon do you happen to have another choice. Already had condiments on my weenie. Get off my computer don’t you dare peep my documents. My sentiments exactly the conference in regards to arguments approximates Many inter-nationalities at least 3 continents. Ancestor occupants with these words I’m a biochemist marketing guerrillas in the midst of this mist. We the tapestry of ornaments via the internets correspondents it’s like I’m studied on my own no paperwork to show my doctorate of rocking it. I want a milkshake mixed extra thick so it actually improves my life. Massacre in the streets. Soul gets fasten to the beats. Emotion in a drum pattern. Puts the spirit at ease changes lives makes memories. We reminisce lacking candor look back in retrospect kinesis situational intensity convince myths as the centripetal force drifts making you cause conflicts with the dame you caressed whose early departure has you dismissed flailing arms is a fit temper tantrum get nothing and like it anthem in this for the marathon and beyond whereupon such a large portion of our population is related to Genghis Khan. What was going on? Mating a savage motivation bondage of ancestral astral projections. In a succession of going with aggression. Talking too much now I’m a witness to this confession. I didn’t want to know that nor should you want to share it - in your heart bear with it. I need to check up on what era that was. I want potato chips crisper than a whisper in a dark room embracing solitude twiddling a whisker brisker than podcast radio transistor, he was very bad only did one movie but he was a fister, turned that lifestyle around and became a wonderful listener, except after he kissed her, she fiddled his zipper, polished half handle of liquor, hand cuffs cutoff circulation like a prisoner, as she moved towards his waistline she announced OK noodle, his phone screen lit up he couldn’t get up - his unit wouldn’t get up, Here is the kicker, she addressed yours is so much pinker, than red shade of a swisher, Oh yes it is sir right when she was about to go to town cell phone screen with the rear camera face down accessed a video Oh yes Mister Fisher. Vid featuring a debutante with oily wrist smash grab a sphincter. Homegirl peeped it out the corner of her eye. Jeez Louise Guy, you think she liked it, those are screams of terror why did you video tape and mic it? Payback is real He said no no stop she said you will get nothing and like it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Bloop Didn't Match Bleep

Flat line monitor they filed with the manufacturer to get truth because bloop didn’t match bleep

Was she dead or deep asleep it takes a large leap of courage to surpass milestones when laid out flat on back thick as a board bright as feather totally do laps passing my stone counting per mile our style lashes out flashes of the bang - boom go sky. They hope when it’s over something changes dramatically like a star fall macho man bar brawl telekinetic script to anyone one whom you bonded importance of existence is something you cannot deny.

Fly by the seat of pants, advance like cash flow, difficult to rap slow, I wanna run it like you need it get roller pinned and kneaded, Hebrew jui-jitsu submission look at what his knee did. Star of David on his playlist we turning off tech on Satur no matter bribery or how you flatter your condolences belated along with ski masks raided should of seen them coming the porch was shaded driveway isolated doctrine confirmed over something we traded urine peptide beaker foggy but perplex this – His best amigo did too much acid like amino so when he was at cathouse heard a whore moan he could only cognate behavior to influence mood balanced hormone as the counterpoint feline payment never transacted fee to wait in line. What skill or excellences are you pursuing how can you portray without any cueing. Hit your marks. Spit in pitch black fire mouth out sparks.

It’s your energy that relay tend to take opposition and sway. Assists their dishin’ drug addicts spinning to get spun on a mission in addition to addiction they act like they don’t lie this is no audition you’re grown why you want permission to ruin your life You see in LA a Bruin cub a forty niner in Long Beach data gets scrubbed unit information placed out of reach. Look what the cat drug in, breeze blew in you could have been somebody a shoo in. Migrated to Peru in a mobile pyramid amongst doubters, its like the shouters are first with inside out lower lip pouters claim to be ballers all they are is browsers knickerbockers shirtless with trousers waving a give me a freebie voucher so I roll with moon howlers now does this overwhelm like towers stimulates give us powers of the third kind and our encounters.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Gun Laws

- No fun wit dem laws especially when encountering rough edges grainy surface with gun laws

- The cause is mass hysteria because amendments put both sides into a predicament

- Wing of the Eagle into action Xnational Activist after a sour apple up spring the people Active Fist raised above the forehead concurrently nobody wants more dead.

- Not even the gunman but what about that run in my states Capitol Sacramento

- Odd… Cell phone is not a weapon 20 trigger pulls the Police can act like a beast, On tempo protest Florida mad man rampaged blood everywhere escorted in handcuffs away facial expression wonder struck departed campus quad

- Dem our rights in dat bill but that bill was proclaimed before our land fell ill Overdose of fluoride oxygen intoxicants horrible supplements processed food and diabetes from too much sugar in condiments

- Now to fix your country don’t be chicken like poultry spend love to arrange a redeeming elixir

- This is precise calculation when you are overcrowded too many people in population the hypertension trying to keep up with what you commercially demonstrating sort of like an exchange of demon trading evil for evil soul grasp tool sickle--- Concise to arbitration overcrowded too many people in population the hypertension trying to keep up with what you commercially demonstrating sort of like is regal viper fang retention seek help contemplating like gleaming shovel off moonshine fickle.

- Everything even your status is the status materialism is the apparatus zero the sum on the abacus but yet the ability to function not be bullied or tempted to destroy yourself or others can be uncontrollable

- Mental health doesn’t have a look so why they judge based on the cover texture ink print of book

- No civilian needs an automatic machine gun. Home protection can be accomplished with 20 gauge is plenty.

- There are more guns in the US than people. So agree with March for our lives. I disagree with anything I’m not feeling and if we all could be a Democracy and meet in the middle we all should be fine with the compromise.

- First person liver body organ problem corking, ostrich keeping dome piece dipped into land chunks hoping not to get things out of proportion

- News was sidetracked Porn Star had protection less sex with President along with a dry cleaner hanger abortion clinic minute men attacking those who look immigrated

- It’s a circle of blood you been initiated. We do not exist in a dystopia but these large organizations can paint whatever portrait they want to fit into an agenda

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++You Can Be Anything

You are where you at in fact you could go where you want to be and you can be anything

So easy to feel like nothing complain and become doubtful with a mouthful of evil they walk in a horrible path of negativity and self-destruction same time place continuum hurting others while they just trying to get through the same as you do. What is this reasoning? Who created the outline? Why if I don’t play ball can’t I get a pass down on the baseline? Appeasing you either got to be a mover and shaker or to the sideline your thrown and labeled a space waster. Money identifies so much. Status class how your friends and family eat continuous and fast. Totally empty posthumous till those on top of the power structure find those beneath humorous. Better teeth greater smile success is subjective. I took the elective to be me why don’t you be you. Underneath all the bogus ideas and understandings I breathe near the 14th of the month only to inhale and not exhale for another 30. If you do business justified you can really be wealthy if you lied play dirty. Landing around the 5th I derail in a matter of moments look sick and pale living again for less than allowed. Now the natural lines in my face is scowled. I want to be an xnational not into whats in or rational I’ve never admired reality TV or what is force fed to me. The world is very fluid with whats not allowed how you make your bread and weather you get a box or become dust when dead. They never said it would be like this but they never stated it wouldn’t or couldn’t I’m tired of the chosen getting a vote I never balloted giving me basically 2 options on major decisions unanimously untalented more than perfected for the future while living slithering past the masses until something so major happens to a loved one a ugly ungloved one frozen in the headline archived content someplace indefinite it is about time. Dig through scorched Earth. Charred ground far fewer giblets in the stew to see self in mirror the spoon is wooden and sipping left a splinter too difficult to survive this nuclear winter.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++To Get Bye

Chatted with an annoying carcass inverted in Caracas on an apparatus and we agreed about this

You’re all I need to get buy

- The voice don’t know but like a bass line I record in mono Remember before I kissed a girl I got mononucleosis and this in general gave me a neurosis if I haven’t kissed how the heck did I get mono

- Punctuality arriving pronto seconds click nimble with the fingertips pulling a combo characterized in metabolic state ketosis

- Fasting near or around roses favorite floral Lotus. To get by stay fly no aeronautics my aerobics consists of verbal trampoline pounce the guardrail carine upon the jet strip Don’t Trip.

- Landing gear engaged to get by clearance from the air traffic controller, just this style is me high roller tip toeing soldier avoiding ebola maintain employment meeting or exceeding quota.

- To get buy you need straight cash homie loads and loaves of bread cheddar or whatever Hamilton greenbacks, paper guap of franklin will do

- To get by Your Blessing will be thee necessity sky beautiful. Open heart to keep it plain and simple more than the crease unfolding the ripple

- To get by clean water fresh air healthy food the ability to create mobility infinitely friends family meditation agility stretching.

- Concept of these scriptures stacks all the to the back of literature willingness be the finesse all this and that’s success

- To get by why try easier to complain make it artificial cause others through the tidal waves stress and strain

- Sitting on your knees sneaker heels tap the back of your button ups Long Barrel at temple. Imagine the thoughts before you’re executed. That process of it’s over. Can you fanaggle? Use communication for survival last chance come at them sideways like a tooth that snaggle

- This snag will either end your current existence begin into a newish dimension an entrance how did these doors swing open? Never let them see you moping. Laugh in the face danger many elements to this for coping.

- Change is a guarantee and you can’t get much of anything so constant. Who can adapt the fastest? Chip up as soon as society is cashless. Global position the system while mapless. I’m going to flow more rap less.

- Concubine colorful sword edge dull, The Ktown market I copped it at in the China shop bull. Tea party porcelain porcupine alarm module.

- iota needs some soda caramel color cola so the bubbles can fix my upset tummy stay scummy my friend is a sin and not funny Lowest on totem pole that explains the mischievous grin

- Never find work attitude be the jerk stay going bizerk at the store with the clerk make it impossible for them to accomplish the mish undertone a smirk relentless and abscessed until they fail find out it all evolved from silly little games your repercussions wrong answer given to test

- Well rounded knew how art felt, Chemicals were spilt and the fumes of the 2nd story would melt. Heartfelt never dealt a hand like that patience is all precious up til you are the doctors patients and he truly evil terrorize a boll weevil wore wild long tail lab coat crazy colors of crayon except no cotton all rayon and he would lay on the guilt deprive of medication till the truly ugly wanted to be killed subconsciously the whispers You’re all I need to get by…..

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