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hummingbird24220 · 1 month ago

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Hi hi hi hiiii!

May i request... Some funny shenanigans in Arabastra where Strawhat!reader is simpin for the Croco? 👀😳 Kinda...crack-adjecent 🤭 Like... "You come here often?" while being stuck in a cage or "What can that hook do?" before it reveals to have a poison kind of stupid?

Please please with a banana on top? 💜

Yes. Yessss. Not really plot-adjacent - this is not really plot adjacent but hey ho - im here for croc, not plot accuracy.

Sand Daddy Issues

One piece x reader (reader simping for croccy)

It was a hot, dry day in Alabasta. You were dehydrated. You were sunburnt. You were in a literal cage suspended above a pit of banana gators.

And yet…

“Okay but like, hear me out,” you said, clutching the iron bars and watching as Sir Crocodile dramatically turned to leave, “does anyone else think he’s kinda... hot?”

Smoker made a choked noise. Nami turned slowly to stare at you like you just licked a cactus.

Zoro let out a suffering sigh. “I’d say you’ve lost your mind, but I’m pretty sure you never had one.”

“He’s the enemy,” Nami hissed.

“He’s got eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man,” you whispered reverently, leaning your cheek against the bars. “And I, for one, respect that.”

Crocodile paused halfway down the stairs, clearly hearing that. He didn’t turn around.

Usopp yanked you away from the bars. “Have you SEEN the size of his hook?!”

“I KNOW, right?” you whispered back with a dangerous sparkle in your eyes.

“No—I meant—it’s poisonous!!” Usopp panicked.

Luffy, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the cage, tilted his head. “You wanna date him or fight him?”

You lifted a finger. “Yes.”

Zoro facepalmed so hard he nearly gave himself a concussion. “We are going to die in this cage, and the last thing I’m gonna hear is you thirsting over a Warlord.”

“You say that like it’s not completely valid,” you replied. “He’s rich, he's powerful, and he wears fur in the desert. That’s commitment. That’s fashion. That’s—”

“Insanity,” Smoker growled from the corner of the cage. “You damn pirates are all insane.”

“Oh c’mon, Smokey,” you said sweetly. “Don't tell me you’ve never looked at him and thought ‘I bet that hook could—’”

“I will dropkick you into the sand,” he interrupted.

“I welcome that energy,” you said with a wink.

Suddenly the floor beneath the cage rumbled.

Everyone looked down at once.

Zoro cursed. “Banana gators.”

You looked down too, then up at the ceiling, clasping your hands. “Dear sweet Croco-daddy, please don't let me die before I get to ask if you're single.”

Crocodile finally turned around, exasperated.

“You done?” he drawled.

You smiled brightly. “That depends. You free Friday?”

“WE’RE IN A CAGE!” Nami yelled, shoving you.

Luffy laughed. “This is fun.”

Zoro started trying to bend the bars with his bare hands.

Smoker tried to light a cigar and nearly choked on the rage.

Usopp curled into a ball.

And you? You leaned toward Crocodile and whispered through the bars with a sultry grin:

“So uh… you come here often?”

You weren’t sure what was more terrifying: the banana gators below, the creaking sound the cage kept making, or the fact that Crocodile still hadn’t said no to your flirting.

“Well?” you said hopefully, gripping the bars like a maiden in a tragic play. “If you’re gonna feed us to the gators, can you at least tell me your favorite flower first?”

Crocodile raised a brow. “Why?”

“So I can haunt you properly.”

That actually got a snort out of him. A real one. A Warlord-of-the-Sea-smirking-at-your-bad-flirting kind of snort.

“I prefer silence,” he said, but there was amusement dancing in his voice. The bastard was enjoying this.

Next to him, Nico Robin covered her mouth as if yawning, but you saw the smile behind her hand.

“She likes you,” Robin said casually, voice as smooth as sand through fingers.

“I respect him,” you corrected, with the sincerity of someone about to perish and still down bad. “And maybe also wanna braid his hair a little.”

“You’re insane,” Smoker muttered. “This is a hostage situation.”

“She’s mentally unwell,” Nami added.

“I think it’s romantic!” Luffy said helpfully.

Crocodile made a little hum in his throat and gestured with one sharp wave of his hook. “Leave them. Let the banana gators line up. One by one.”

“Oh! Like a buffet,” you chirped, nodding. “Very organized. Love that.”

He looked back over his shoulder, meeting your eyes. “Try not to scream too loud. It’s unpleasant.”

“Depends on the reason I’m screaming,” you said, entirely too suggestively.

Zoro audibly gagged. Usopp started praying to every god he knew. Smoker tried to chew his cigar into dust.

And with that, Crocodile turned and left, cape billowing. Robin gave you a tiny finger wave as she followed, definitely amused.

The gators below growled.

“…He totally stayed to listen,” you said a moment later, peering down the corridor.

“FOCUS,” Nami yelled.

The gators were starting to line up like actual dinner guests at a five-course buffet.

Cue: panic.

And then—ka-chunk—something rustled in the corner of the pit. A familiar mop of black hair appeared in the shadows.

“Hmm? This door was unlocked,” said Sanji’s voice.

“SANJI!!!” you all screamed.

He looked up at the cage, blinking. “Oh, look at that. Caged birds. And my lovely caged angel—wait, WHY is she leaning out like she’s waiting for a date?”

“She’s looking for Crocodile,” Zoro groaned. “She thinks he’s her boyfriend now.”

“He might be!” you said defensively. “Did you see the way he looked back? That was at least a third-date look.”

Before anyone could argue further, the floor shifted again.

A geyser of wax exploded from the floor as Mr. 3 was forcibly thrown into the pit by the very gator who’d eaten him. Chaos exploded. Banana gators roared. Usopp screamed like a haunted kettle.

You?

You were still cupping your hands around your eyes, peering dramatically into the distance.

“…Guys. I swear he’s still watching.”

“You mean Crocodile?” Sanji asked.

You nodded dreamily.

Smoker stared at you like he was about to launch himself out of the cage just to get away. “You’re delusional.”

“I prefer ‘dangerously charming,’” you replied.

The casino was crumbling.

You were running full speed through smoke, debris, and the echo of banana gators throwing tantrums. Nami was screaming something about “go left, LEFT—NO YOUR OTHER LEFT!” and Sanji was dropkicking a Baroque Works goon off your tail.

You, meanwhile, were having a very unfortunate moment of reflection.

“…So like. I get it now.”

“Not now,” Nami hissed.

“No, no, let me say this,” you insisted, ducking a falling ceiling tile. “I understand that yes, Crocodile is technically the villain. Like, warlord, attempted coup, sand powers of biblical proportions, poison hook, et cetera—I got it.”

Usopp wheezed. “Now?! You’re having a moral reckoning now?!”

“I’m saying I recognize that I went a bit too hard. Maybe I projected a little. Maybe I simp for rugged men with criminal tendencies and broad shoulders. I’m not proud, but I’m honest.”

Zoro, already fed up, turned mid-sprint just to smack the back of your head.

“OW—”

“You deserved that,” he said flatly.

“Maybe you should get more scars,” you muttered, rubbing your head. “Then maybe you’d make the cut.”

Sanji let out the loudest “TCH—” you’d ever heard in your life and nearly walked into a wall in protest. “Don’t you DARE compare that lizard freak to us.”

“Why not?” you shot back. “Crocodile appreciated me. He smirked. He lingered. He fed us to gators, but like—gently.”

Zoro looked like he was going to smack you again.

Smoker, running behind with Vivi, shouted, “If you ever say ‘gently’ and ‘fed us to gators’ in the same sentence again, I’m arresting you on principle.”

Vivi gasped between breaths. “He tried to kill my father!”

“I said I get it!” you said, holding your arms out. “I’m just… processing. I have a type, okay? I like rugged, dangerous men with mysterious pasts and possibly trench coats.”

Luffy, riding a broken door like a skateboard past the collapsing hallway, shouted, “Ooh! That sounds like Zoro!”

Zoro visibly recoiled. “Do not drag me into this!”

You placed a hand on your heart dramatically. “All I’m saying is—if Crocodile ever reforms and opens a beachside bar, I am first in line.”

Nami shoved you into a doorway just as a chandelier fell where you were standing. “And if you don’t shut up, I will personally bury you in the desert.”

You let out a deep sigh as the team stumbled out into the sunlight, coughing and covered in dust. “It’s okay. I know it’s over. It was never meant to be…”

Everyone relaxed for a second.

“…But maybe he’s watching from a dune somewhere. Just like—‘Ah, there goes that oddly charming disaster of a Straw Hat.’”

“I’m gonna throw you back inside,” Zoro muttered.

You stood on tiptoe and shouted toward the horizon.

“WAIT, TELL CROCO I LOVE HIM—”

A shoe hit you in the head. You didn’t know whose.

You weren’t sure how you got separated from the crew.

One minute you were arguing with Nami about whether it was technically a crush or a “psychological fascination with morally grey authority figures,” and the next, you were on a racing lizard, yelling directions like you knew where the hell Alubarna even was.

Your mouth was dry, your brain was dry, and your heart—tragically—was still moist for a certain Warlord.

You tumbled off the lizard when it reared near the palace gates. The streets were a warzone: rebels screaming, royal guards holding the line, Vivi’s voice echoing somewhere in the fray—but you?

You were disoriented. Sun-stroked. Dusty. Maybe dying.

And then—you saw him.

Sir Crocodile. Standing at the palace steps like the world belonged to him. Cape flowing. Hook glinting. Sand swirling dramatically like some desert-themed anime intro.

You squinted, wiped the dust from your face, and muttered:

“…Goddamn, he really is majestic.”

With no better plan, you staggered toward him, dusting yourself off and clearing your throat like you belonged there. His guards turned—tensed—but Crocodile held up a hand.

He looked you over.

“…You,” he said flatly.

“Me,” you breathed. “Back for round two.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Your crew escaped. Why are you here?”

“Distraction,” you said smoothly, pulling yourself up with all the poise you could muster. “The Straw Hats are all over the city. I figured I’d come by and… stall you.”

His brow lifted slightly. “By throwing yourself at me?”

“That’s phase one,” you said with a grin. “Phase two was gonna be seduction, but we’re on a tight schedule.”

He actually smirked. “You’re insane.”

You leaned on a column. “So I’ve been told. Repeatedly. In different languages.”

He stepped closer. “You’re lucky I find this entertaining.”

“Oh, I’m not lucky,” you said. “I’m charming. Big difference.”

You both paused in the eye of the storm. It was the closest thing to peace you’d had in hours.

Then, casually—too casually—Crocodile said, “By the way. I killed your captain. Straw Hat is dead.”

…

You blinked.

“That,” you said after a beat, “is a massive red flag.”

He arched a brow.

“I mean damn, Croco-Bae,” you said, backing up with a hand on your hip. “I know I like ‘em toxic, but that’s straight-up un-dateable behavior.”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” he said, voice low now, dangerous.

You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. But I was flirting, dude. You don’t just drop murder news mid-banter. That’s—bad form.”

And then he lunged.

You just barely dodged the first sand swipe, rolling across the sandstone tiles. He didn’t hesitate now—he came at you with the full weight of a Warlord, hook whistling through the air.

You pulled your weapon (a sad excuse of a sword/bo staff/whatever you had left after the explosion) and braced.

“You know what?” you shouted, ducking another attack. “This is why you’re single!”

He scoffed. “I prefer it.”

You threw a rock at his head.

He vaporized it with sand.

You screamed in frustration. “I WAS GONNA GIVE YOU A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET!”

“You were going to die!”

“I CAN MULTITASK!!”

Sand began to swirl dangerously around you both as his patience evaporated like water in the desert. Your stance was slipping. You weren’t a match—not really. But you weren’t going down simping.

At least not loudly.

You weren’t gonna win.

Not against him. Not in this state. You were sun-fried, bruised, cracked down the middle like a clay pot with too many metaphors, and Crocodile’s hook was swinging straight for your gut.

There was a woosh of sand, and you thought: Damn. He really is a 10… but so is arsenic.

You braced for the hit—

—and did get hit.

Just not by the hook.

A fist covered in haki, rage, and the sheer force of friendship collided with Crocodile’s smug jaw.

“YOU’RE NOT HURTING MY CREW!!!” Luffy shouted, voice pure fire.

You collapsed sideways in the sand, hook wound slicing deep across your side. It hurt. A lot. But it didn’t feel... final. Which, honestly, was a surprise.

You blinked up at the sky as Luffy went feral on Crocodile in the distance, fists flying, sand exploding, chaos reborn.

And all you could think was:

“…Okay but like… if he’d just not tried to murder everyone…”

You laughed softly to yourself—blood loss chuckle edition.

“…It could’ve worked out.”

And then you passed out.

Much Later...

You woke up in a bed too soft for the desert, draped in gauze and bad decisions.

The palace ceiling loomed above you. Golden light filtered through clean windows. Somewhere nearby, birds chirped, probably unaware that you almost had a villain redemption arc through sheer thirst.

You groaned.

Everything ached.

Your side was bandaged tight, your arms bruised, and your brain felt like someone had replaced it with a dried-out sponge.

You blinked slowly.

“…Did we win?”

“Unfortunately,” came Zoro’s voice from nearby.

You turned your head just in time to see him walk into view—arms crossed, scowl heavy, that very particular “you’re-an-idiot-and-I-care-about-you” aura rolling off him.

“You survived,” he added, sounding mildly disappointed. “Which is impressive considering you tried to flirt your way through a boss battle.”

“It was strategic distraction,” you croaked.

Zoro walked over.

Slapped you gently—but firmly—on the head.

“OW—DUDE?!”

“That’s for going through a full-on Crocodile romance arc without backup.”

“I WAS LONELY AND HE HAD A CAPE,” you shouted, immediately regretting it as your side flared with pain.

He sat down beside the bed with a long sigh. “You’re lucky Luffy got there in time.”

“…Did he win?”

“Yeah. Beat Crocodile’s smug ass into the dirt. He’s gone. Poof. Sandboy evaporated.”

You sighed.

“…Shame. I liked the eyeliner.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“I’m healing,” you corrected, turning your head toward the sun-drenched window. “Emotionally and physically.”

Zoro snorted. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“Yeah. I also lost a 6’6 warlord with a hook hand and issues. I think the wound to the soul is worse.”

He picked up your pillow and lightly smacked you with it.

“Get some rest, idiot.”

You closed your eyes, smiling faintly.

“…Tell Croco I still think about him sometimes.”

“I’m telling Chopper to drug you.”

#x reader #one piece #reader insert #luffy #sanji #nami #nico robin #usopp #tony tony chopper #request #sir crocodile #crocodile one piece

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macfrog · 1 year ago

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If you ever feel up to it - a little short story from the scom universe about reader and Joel deciding to have a second baby or finding out they're pregnant for the second time would warm my cold dead heart <3

i am. so. sorry. for the word count on this i truly do not know what happened. but i had a lot of fun with it, so. hopefully y'all do, too. happy fathers day! x

jellybean ~4k words | series masterlist warnings: pregnancy symptoms (feeling and being sick, horniness + sleepiness. aka me even when not pregnant), 99% just duckie vs her mom

Duckie spills the secret on a Friday.

The morning is lazy, slow. The breathing of the sea across a plain of beach. Your fingers sift through her hair like the breeze through sun-bleached pages. The way she and the sun tint the room peach.

Sarah sprawls out across the spot still warm on her dad’s side of the bed. She’s in a habit of waking up early to sneak through to your room, lift the bottom of the covers, and army crawl between your bodies.

Joel’s in a habit of stirring to the heat of her at his back, her tiny toes at his spine, and turning to scoop her in one arm. They sleep curled into one another, mouths catching flies.

This morning, though, she’s up to something. She brought a secret.

She’s flat-out on her stomach, pens scratching at the paper. There’s the scent of cherry and lemon and green apple tangling in the air. Taut frown on her face, tongue poked with concentration. She looks just like her dad.

She pauses and looks up at you. “What color is this part?” she asks, dabbing at the blank hubcap.

“Silver,” you reply, fixing the cap back onto the grape pen before it stains your sheets.

She huffs. “I don’t have silver, Mama.”

You tap on the page. “Daddy’s wing mirrors are black, but you did ‘em green. The colors don’t matter, do they?”

But it’s seven a.m., and you’re sharing only the red jellybeans for something of a pre-breakfast snack (the four-year-old’s idea), and you’re exhausted despite having slept the full night, and she keeps halting any time Joel’s humming quietens – just in case he spoils his birthday surprise.

She hunkers down with the lemon pen to nail the emblem of his truck, and you figure – color is just the least of it. Truthfully, to your kid – and so, to you, too – nothing has ever mattered more.

You cup her cheek and lift her gaze back to meet yours. “How about I grab you a glitter pen today, just for the wheels?”

She grins. Little milk teeth, gappy and gummy. Peach fuzz cheeks, sweet as the rest of her, a perfect fit in the palm of your hand.

I love you I love you you’re my whole world I love you, you want to say.

Instead: “Only if we tidy your room later. Deal?”

“Deal, Mama,” Sarah giggles, and her little ink-stained hands splay out across the page again.

She scribbles only a few more splotches of color before you both notice it.

The sudden silence.

The water’s stopped running. The shower screen rattles as he pulls it back. Dripdripdrip from the showerhead straight down to the empty basin.

Sarah twists to watch Joel’s disembodied arm blindly grab for a towel folded on the sink. It whips off out of sight, and he calls through from the bathroom.

“Duckie? You still there?”

“Gogogo,” you whisper, helping your daughter cover her dad’s drawing with blank sheets. “Leave the jellybeans, Duck, save yourself!”

She finds the entire thing hysterical. Swinging her masterpiece under one arm, two fistfuls of rainbow pens, springing from the mattress like it suddenly caught flame. She throws herself from the foot of the bed and dashes across the hall to her own room, candy scattering in her wake.

Joel’s head cranes around the doorframe. “Where’d she go?”

You smile, shrugging. Chewing innocently on a jellybean. “That’s funny. She was here a second ago.”

He pads over to the bed, towel slung loose around his hips. Smirks, when your hungry eyes descend his figure – the bearlike shape of him, all muscle and fur, toned where he needs it but soft where you want it.

He cages over you, dark hair dripping with the smell of citrus, skin sticky.

His lips are like velvet against yours. Tongue still singed with coffee. A low growl from his throat when you lean forward to lick into his mouth.

“Smell so goddamn good,” you murmur, dipping your head to bury into the crook of his neck.

His beard is fuzzier when it’s damp, natural masculine musk melded with the fresh soap and rich aftershave he uses. All honey and oatmeal, mixed with a woodsy scent – and fuck, it’s intoxicating. Moreso than usual – stronger and sexier.

You take his hands and lower them to your hips, letting his fingers knot around the baggy material of your – his T-shirt. Tugging on it, exposing the slip of delicate lace on your hips.

“Darlin’,” Joel warns, “we’re late. We still gotta drop Duckie off – If she walks in –”

You groan, huffing back into the mattress. The weight between your legs ripples over the horizon, pulses into weak nothing.

Joel fixes the shirt back down to your thighs just as the thunder of his daughter’s footsteps rumbles back into the room.

Tonight, he breathes, slicking some of the hair from his face.

You grin, taking his hand to pull yourself back up.

Sarah materializes in the doorway, a lingering half-girl. Smiling from behind the frame, twisting the ball of her foot into the floor.

“Hi, Duck,” Joel says, still playing with your fingers.

“Hi.”

“You look guilty.”

Her grin widens. She totters into the room, launches herself onto the bed, and nuzzles into your side. She squirms when Joel digs his fingers into her waist.

The beats of her laughter drum against your ribs, the same way her fists used to when she lived inside you.

“Alright.” You cradle her, her little head tipping back to wake the rest of Austin up with her squeals of glee. “Are we ready for some actual food, now?”

Joel chuckles, reaching for his mug.

Sarah nods from your lap. Her eyes drift down to the print on your tee. “Mama?”

“Mhm?”

“Do they like jellybeans?”

You frown. “Does who like jellybeans?”

Her finger prods lightly into your tummy. “The baby.”

Joel chokes, splattering coffee into his fist. He slams the mug down, pounds his chest clear of liquid.

“There’s no – Jesus, Joel,” you swipe mocha flecks from the sheets, “Told Sarah to be careful with her pens and then you spray coffee all over the…”

Sarah rolls off, cackling. “Silly Daddy,” she hoots, leaping on the bedroom floor.

“Hey,” you usher her over to the door, “Why don’t you go pick out what you wanna wear today? I’ll be right behind you. Quit tryna give your dad a heart attack, okay?”

“The baby, Mama,” she’s repeating, walking like a little convict. She turns over the threshold to her room like it’s a cell, her pink pajama uniform and guilty expression to go with it. Still laughing, swallowing the ticklish bursts when she notices you’re shaking your head.

“There is no baby.” You kneel before her, repeating, “No baby. Just you. How about your T-shirt with the butterflies?”

It seems to distract her enough. Thank Christ. She gasps, inspired, and twirls off to find the tee.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, pushing back to your feet.

Joel’s flapping the sheets when you slip back into your room, still clearing his throat. Half-dressed: a white T-shirt over his broad chest and a pair of black boxers. Soaked hair clinging to the back of his neck and drying in flicks across his forehead.

Jesus, you want to pull him back over you and let him have his way.

You close the door over and spin, hands on your hips. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me?” he croaks. “Did you hear what she just said?”

“You’ve known this kid for four years, Joel, you really can’t tell when she’s fucking with you? She’s my kid, keep up.”

“Just seemed an awfully –” he thumps his chest again, “– awfully specific thing to say.”

“She’s in a phase I think,” you reply, catching the pillow he tosses across. “She’s telling stories. Last week, her pre-K teacher congratulated me our supposed wedding. Asked to see pictures of the Mickey Mouse officiant.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “She really bought that?”

You mimic the breezy voice: “Sarah was very convincing.”

Joel scoffs. “I don’t know if I can take a lying phase and a copying phase at the same time. Every goddamn word I say, she’s gotta repeat it.”

“She idolizes you,” you straighten the sheets, “I think it’s endearing.”

“Hm. Just wait until it’s you.”

He wanders around the bed, pulls your back against his chest. His arms cross over your tummy, lips pressing into your shoulder where his shirt has slipped.

“How much harder would two be?” he mumbles into the bare skin.

“Two Sarahs?” You scoff.

Joel laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. I forget she runs on chaos and jellybeans.”

“Yup,” you turn in his arms, linking yours behind his neck, “And there ain’t no point in talking about it anyways, because I am not fucking pregnant.”

He rolls his forehead against yours, stealing bristly kisses. “Okay.”

“I’m not, Joel.”

“I believe you, baby.”

Sarah’s bedtime is a liberal eight, eight thirty on weekends. She likes to sit up, lodged between you and Joel on the couch, and help pick the movie you two will watch once she’s in bed.

Once – and only once – Joel tried to fool her by pretending to play her choice, then switching as soon as she went down.

The kid quizzed him on the movie the next morning. He failed. She’s never forgotten.

Tonight, though, Joel’s out. Some game that you know and care too little about sports to learn the name or importance of. He’s with some buddies at the local bar, probably nursing his second beer in as many hours, and counting down the minutes until he can come home to his girls.

Sarah snores soundly, slumped at your side as though butter wouldn’t melt. The flicker from the TV across her face, the gentle mumbling of the voices onscreen. Her hands limp in her lap, fingers idling in a pink snack bowl.

You admire her, stealing a piece of her popcorn. Teeth grinding down when you remember dishing it for her earlier, hearing her curious voice ask whether or not the baby likes popcorn more than jellybeans.

Nope, you sang, tossing a handful in your mouth as you passed her the bowl. Imaginary babies don’t eat popcorn.

She snorted (which unnerved you, because what the fuck is this kid finding so funny?), and followed you to the living room so close that you could feel her toes at your heels.

Some of the kids in her class have siblings. Some older, but mostly younger. It’s the only fucking explanation, the only thing that explains this sudden interest in the real estate of your uterus.

She’s going through a phase, you tell yourself, suckling on popcorn. But then – how many fucking phases do kids go through? Which phases did you go through?

Barney & Friends. That was a fucking phase. Refusing to leave the house without the hoodie your mom bought you from the Museum of Natural History, even in the height of summer. Ketchup and broccoli, your boyfriend at seventeen, frisbeeing your neighbor’s newspaper and aiming for his flowerpots.

Phase, phase, fucking phase.

Does she know something you don’t?

…No. You took a test just last week. Shut up. Stop letting the kid into your fucking head.

Joel’s keys jangle on the other side of the door, shunting into the lock with a sound which stills your brain.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch, your man’s beard tickling your nose as he kisses you. “Evening.”

“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips. He straightens and tugs the jacket from his shoulders. “She not in bed yet?”

“She fell asleep down here,” you reply. “I got too tired to carry her up.”

He caresses your forehead, big pillowy palm. “You feelin’ okay?”

“It’s been a long day,” you grumble.

Joel smiles. He flops down onto the couch beside you, reaching over to stroke Sarah’s head.

You roll, solid as a rock, curling into his side. “She keeps saying it, Joel. She keeps fucking saying it.”

His chest jumps, tectonic plates moving with a laugh. “You’ve met your match, honey. Produced a professional little shit.”

“One of the other moms from her class is pregnant,” you mumble. “That’s gotta be it, right? That’s where she’s getting it from?”

“Maybe,” Joel muses. His fingers link with yours. “Why don’t you take a test anyways? Settle it in your mind?”

It startles you awake, even if only enough to prove the fucking point.

“No, Joel!” you hiss, body jerking. “If I take a test, and it turns out negative – which it will – she wins! My four-year-old fooled me. No,” you pluck spilled popcorn from your lap, pinging it back into the bowl, “I know this kid. I gave birth to this kid. She is not fucking winning.”

“Alright, baby,” he coos, “it’s okay. I won’t let the four-year-old fool you.”

You glower. “Thanks, asshole.”

He chuckles. “She’d make the best big sister, though. She would,” he insists, when you huff back against his chest. “She’d love being the oldest. Get to be bossy, get to call the shots. Get to protect them, no matter what.”

Your voice feels so small, as inquisitive as your daughter’s when you blink up at him. “Were you protective over Tommy?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, he was annoying as all hell – and I told him so – but anyone else had anythin’ to say about him, and – well, they had me to deal with.”

“Big scary Joel Miller,” you whisper, yawning into his shirt. “I knew him once.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles, “You sure did.”

You look up again, blinking all doe-eyed and dreamy. Already half-asleep.

“He never scared me,” you whisper.

Joel smiles.

“Well, you scared the hell outta him.”

Saturday morning, you wake to an empty bed. No snoring man, no scribbling girl. Just you – a starfish on the mattress. Bathing in waves of late-morning sun, sheets for coral, body as heavy as though you really are at the bottom of the ocean.

Her giggles carry all the way upstairs. Sarah. They surf into the room on a sunbeam, sounds like bubbles which shatter and sprinkle over your aching body.

You smile into Joel’s pillow, breathing in the smell of him, and peel your eyes open.

It’s ten thirty. Definitely – you blink three times and rub at your eyes, just to make sure. Ten thirty, and something’s swirling behind your navel. Something that sharpens, sours, when you push yourself upright.

“Oh, shit,” you rasp, and throw yourself across the room.

You barely make it, collapsing in a heap at the toilet. Your stomach empties in seconds; three heavy, painful gags and your head is in the bowl, choking on last night’s dinner.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, gasping, “Oh, Jesus.”

You’re sick. You’re just sick. Sarah probably caught something from pre-K, passed it on without even knowing. And, hey – you feel better, now that that happened.

You’re just sick. Nothing else.

“Mornin’,” Joel calls, watching as you stagger into the kitchen.

Sarah mimics his drawl. “Mornin’, Mama.”

“Hi, Duckie.” You crumple into the chair beside her, shoulders hunched. The smell of burnt toast and grape juice twists up your nose, and you suck in a slow breath.

Joel sweeps a hand over your forehead. He tips your jaw up to face him. “You alright? Thought we heard running.”

Sarah rips a slice of toast in two. She stares at the fluffy insides, the jam dripping from the tear. The sight of it lifts the hairs on your skin, the gloopy mess splattering onto her plate.

“Just feel kinda…funny,” you slur, turning away.

“Funny? Funny how?”

“Funny how?” your daughter parrots.

You shrug. Every word, every inhale makes you feel even more nauseous. “Probably just ate something.”

“Heard that one before,” Joel drones, and you throw him a flat look.

Sarah licks the jam from her fingers. She holds her tiny hands up to her dad, snorts when he pretends to bite at them.

“Eat your breakfast, Duckie,” he says then – in his Dad voice. And in something softer, kinder: “Can I make you somethin’?”

You swat the idea away, but it’s already churning in your stomach again. “Just gotta – get over whatever it – is.”

The table falls silent. Joel and Sarah stare blankly at one another. When you turn to look at your daughter, she’s staring straight back. Smirking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you clip, wincing again at the dribbling jam.

“Alright,” Joel utters, “I think you oughta take a test now.”

“That is not what this is,” you groan, petulantly pushing up from your chair.

He takes your hand, steadying you. “No? I was thinking about it, baby, and I don’t think we’ve been safe enough to be so sure.”

You dump your golden toast in the trash and turn, crossing your arms. Your shoulders lift. “We’re not being any less safe than we have been the last four years.”

“Safe,” Sarah says, and Joel holds a finger up.

“No,” he tells her. “No. Not that word. Go back to funny.”

She beams at him. “You’re funny, Daddy.”

He sighs, pacing over. “Look,” he lowers his plate into the sink, “I’ll take Duckie to the park. Let you rest up, give you a quiet house for the morning. But darlin’, if you’re not better by tonight, you’re takin’ a test.”

You grimace. “But she –”

“I know –” he grits his teeth, “– I know you don’t want her to be right. But I want you to be okay, more ‘n I want to prove my child wrong. Like it or not, you’re taking a damn test.”

Your eyes flit across to the kid swinging her legs in her chair, the splotch of jam down her Peppa Pig T-shirt. Your greatest accomplishment and your biggest challenge, wrapped up into a hundred-centimeter, jellybean-fueled monster.

Her cheeks lift, jam-covered and smug.

“Funny,” Sarah says, nodding.

The afternoon strings the sun high in the sky.

You’ve been home alone for the better part of an hour, busying yourself by cleaning to take your mind off the nausea tugging at your esophagus. Making and remaking beds, folding laundry until your fingers cramp.

Sarah’s room has never been tidier. Joel’s workshop has never seen so little dust. And you have never been more determined to prove your four-year-old wrong.

You’re lingering in the bathroom, the window gaping. Sucking in breath after breath of fresh air – which only serves to tickle the acid burning its way up your throat, entice it further.

You’re emptying the cabinets, reorganizing them into some senseless order. Playing Tetris with boxes of Band-Aids, slotting in tubes of toothpaste. You blindly reach behind your hip for the next box – a nearly empty thing which rattles when you lift it, jitters as though nervous.

You glance down.

“Fuck off,” you hiss, throwing it on the shelf beside some tampons.

It stares back at you, as blinding as the sun. The two display window examples, pregnant and not pregnant, like a wink peering out from the dull cabinet.

Your gums taste of bitter bile, rancid. Teeth furry and aching. Your entire body aches – though nothing quite so bad as the space below your ribs, still tender from all your retching.

Slowly, your hands slip down your front to cup your lower tummy. Rounder than before, suppler – bloated, even.

“’s from all the throwing up,” you tell nobody in particular. Maybe yourself. There’s a desperate edge to your voice, almost a plea.

But then – a plea to who? For what? There was nothing you loved more than carrying Sarah for nine months. Duck. Start saying duck. Baby Duck.

You were never on your own. She was right there. Someone to talk to, someone to complain to. Someone to weep to, in the quietest lulls of night.

Her language came to you as easily as your own. All her kicks and punches, her fucking acrobatics while you tried to sleep. It was love, in its most chaotic form.

And you loved her, the very moment you saw those two lines. The very moment you realized she’d been in there the whole time.

You realize now, squatted on your bathroom floor, that it feels the exact same. A warmth, radiating from your very core, if only you’d pay it enough attention to feel it.

Like there’s someone there. Right there.

“If you’re fucking with me,” you warn your stomach, reaching for the single test, “I will lose my shit.”

Love, in its most chaotic form bursts through your bedroom door no less than half an hour later.

“Hi, Mama!” Sarah sings, tearing through the room with her hands behind her back. Her knees bump against the side of your bed, the air about her summer-warm and pollen-sweet.

“Hi, little Duck,” you mumble, voice swollen. You wipe sleep from your eyes, asking, “How was the park?”

She answers with a wide grin on her face, whipping out a small, shabby bunch of flowers. Dandelions and daisies tangled around one another, loose petals scattering over your bedsheets.

“Oh, baby,” you push yourself up, ignoring the sickly weight in your stomach, “Are these for me?”

She nods. She dusts her hands free of grass when you take the bouquet. And then, as you smell them and hum with delight, she turns.

First, over to the dresser. She stares at her reflection, pokes at some of the makeup on the table. Then over to the window – where her breath fogs the glass. You hear the whack of Joel’s tailgate closing, and she tracks him into the house, before examining the windowsill.

You watch nervously as she drifts back over to the bed, a curious hop to her movements. Inspecting, like she knows there’s something waiting to be found. Someone.

“Did you have fun with Daddy?” you ask.

“Yep,” her small voice says, distant and distracted. She disappears into the dim bathroom.

You slump back down on the mattress, dropping the flowers in a clump on your bedside table. “I don’t even know when I fell asleep, baby girl,” you say through a yawn.

Sarah doesn’t reply.

“Duckie?”

“What’s this?”

You lift your head. “What’s wh…Oh, n-no, Duckie, wait –”

She flees past you, one fist raised and wielding the pregnancy test.

“Sarah! Jesus, fuck –”

You’re chasing after her before you have a chance to consider it – nausea be damned. She’s squealing something, roaring with laughter, blitzing out into the hallway. She swivels, ladders down the stairs backwards, leaps straight into the arms of –

“Christ, Sarah –”

Joel stumbles backwards with the force she throws at him. She’s safe in his arms by the time you reach the top of the stairs, waving the stupid stick around his head like it’s a magic wand.

“Daddy!” Sarah cries.

He glances up to you: hunched over the top step, panting, clutching your stomach. He pinches the test from her grasp. “What do we got here, baby duck?”

She kicks her feet. She has no fucking idea what they have, but she knows you didn’t want her near it – and if you know your kid, you know that’s all the catalyst she needed to fucking take it.

You slowly make your way down towards them, smirk growing the nearer you draw.

Joel glances down to the test. The creases by his eyes deepen. He hugs Sarah closer.

“Two...two means...pregnant, right?” he asks.

You sigh, nodding. “Mhm.”

His head lifts.

He breaks, the second he sees your expression. Eyes glassy, tears spilling onto your cheeks. The same smile you wore that June morning: sleep-deprived and shellshocked, a love pumping through your veins so strong that you thought you might burst with it.

Joel reaches for your hand, reels you in against his body.

“Shit,” he laughs, holding the test up.

Your shaking hands take it from him – though you already knew what it says. You were dreaming of it all when Sarah broke into your room.

Dreaming of linked hands and echoed giggles; of bunkbeds and matching surnames, of all four seats in the truck filled and all four chambers of your heart spoken for.

Dreaming of one on each hip, one in each hand. Dreaming of them tag teaming Joel, of the word kids slung with his southern twang. My kids, the kids, our kids. All ours.

Dreaming of two Sarahs, goddamn it. Because nothing ever completed your life as effortlessly as one Sarah, and – hell, she was born to follow in her dad’s footsteps and become the elder Miller sibling.

“Shit,” you agree, turning to sob into Joel’s chest.

“Duckie,” Joel says, voice hoarse and choked by tears, “You’re gonna be a big sister.”

She giggles, tracing the damp lines down your cheeks. As she reaches your jaw, the elation on her face slowly dwindles into something of a frown.

Your lips part to repeat it – a big sister, Duck – when her tiny voice steals the air from your lungs.

“Shit!”

#chats #anon #fic: sweet child o' mine #joel miller ficlet #joel miller #joel miller x reader

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fuctacles · 10 months ago

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wereshifter au pt 3, but things get dumber

<<2 | 3 | 4>>

Eddie avoids the park on the next day, doesn't leave the house much at all, really, but he runs into the dog on his way out of a supermarket. He smiles involuntarily, reaching out to pet him.

"Hi, bud," he greets it, and they start the walk back to his van. But before he opens the passenger door to put the groceries there and let the dog hop in, he freezes. He looks down at his furry friend, staring at him so eagerly and with so much trust, and his heart breaks. But nevertheless, he drops his hand away from the door handle, and takes a step back.

"Listen, man," he says, then sighs before dropping to his knees to address the dog properly and look a little bit less insane while doing it. "This is stupid," he murmurs to himself, before continuing. "I can't take you with me, okay? No more house visits. I'd love to play with you at the park, or something, but you can't come with me anymore." The dog's ears drop, like he can understand everything. Eddie continues. "Turns out, one of my friends is allergic to dog fur, so I can't have you over." He reaches out, hoping the ear scratches will be enough consolation. "I know you have a family somewhere, you should go to them."

The dog huffs almost angrily at that, but seems too happy with Eddie's petting to leave. So he indulges them both with some more scratches before he stands up, hoisting the grocery bag along with him.

"See you around?" he asks, rounding the car towards the driver seat. His dog friend follows, but sits on the sidewalk to watch him enter the van. Eddie can almost sense the betrayal behind his stare. "I know, buddy, I'm sad too," he says, closing the door. They stare at each other for another second before Eddie turns on the engine and peels off.

After a week, he starts missing his little trips to the park, so he substitutes with reading a book on the porch. His free hand itches to scratch behind furry ears, so he gets some peanuts to keep it occupied instead.

He hangs out with the boys like he always does, and he spots the kids on his way there, playing with his dog friend. When he hops over to say hi, it stops in it tracks, eyeing him warily. Eddie is lowkey afraid of losing a finger but approaches the dog anyway to give him a friendly (but not overly so) scratch.

"Hi, bud. Having fun?" he asks, and the dog presses more into his hand. "Okay, okay," he chuckles, giving into the silent ask for pets. When he looks up, everyone's looking at them weirdly.

Yes, Eddie Munson likes dogs, fuck off.

He rolls his eyes and straightens up.

"Everyone good for Hellfire on Friday?"

Looks like he's found new friends already, and Eddie doesn't have to worry.

"Hello?"

"Steve! Hi!" Eddie perks up to the voice in his receiver. It feels like years since the last time he's heard Steve. "I've scrubbed the place, and myself, clean, and washed all my clothes twice."

He hears his friend snort on the other line.

"Congrats?" Steve offers, and Eddie can feel a dry smile pulling on his lips.

"Har, har, Harrington, I'm talking about your allergy. It should be safe to come over if you're still interested. Or, I could just..." He leans heavily on the wall, picking at his cuticles while he offers the less favorable option. "Home deliver you a few joints."

Sure, it would be nice to have a guy friend his age who went through the same horrors as him. But if said guy didn't feel the same, keeping a casual connection would be enough for Eddie. Maybe Steve had enough apocalypse-fighting friends of his own and didn't need one more, a loser super-super-senior trailer trash, too.

"No, dude, it's alright. I've just been busy, and kinda not feeling like myself, you know?"

Eddie wants to scream. He does know. Who else would know better, who else had his flesh eaten by demonic bats from a hell dimension?

"Uh-huh," is all he offers, though. He feels weirdly similar to that time in middle school when Cindy McGee said she didn't want to dance with him.

"I guess I just need some space?" Steve said uncertainly. "You're still invited to the end of summer pool party, of course."

Well, good to know that he could come to the party they've all promised each other as soon as both the Vecna thing and school year were over.

"Yeah, cool, quick question though." Eddie licks his lips, his anger rising. He bumps away from the wall, ready to strike and throw the phone down. "And be honest with me, because I hate liars. Are you avoiding me?"

There's silence on the other side.

"Eddie..."

"Steve," Eddie interrupts him. "I don't want bullshit. I want to know if I should fuck off. It will suck but I will take it. Just say you don't want to hang out with me. That's fine. Not the first or the last time it happened."

Steve sighs on the other end of the line.

"I do want to hang out," he says. "But I have a lot to think about and I need some space. Is that okay?"

Eddie is close to folding down, but not close enough not to add:

"Do you need space from everyone or just me?"

"Honestly? Everyone. But especially you."

That was such a stupid fucking answer Eddie had to bite his knuckle not to growl in frustration.

"Okay," he spat out, proud of himself for not yeling. "Don't tell me. Reach out whenever you feel ready." He's less proud of how he slams the phone on the cradles. He feels like shit as he looks at the machine for any damage he might have caused.

He has his answers, Steve confirmed he doesn't want to see him, and he told his dog off too. So aside from the younger members of the Party, he had only Nancy and Jonathan to talk to. Argyle too, if he was still in town. Robin was out of the question, because she would babble everything back to Steve immediately. And he wasn't ready to talk to parental figures like Joyce or Hopper yet.

Eddie takes a few calming breaths and dials another number from his list.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Eddie."

"Eddie!" Dustin's voice cheers up immediately and helps him brighten up as well. "What's up, how are you doing?"

"Eh, I'm managing." He shrugs. "Hey, do you think Steve is avoiding me?" he asks straight to the point.

Dustin groans.

"Yes!" he answers and Eddie's stomach sinks. "But he's been avoiding the rest of us too. And he's been weird for weeks now. But I promised I wouldn't tell anything." There's a frustrated groan on the other end followed by thuds, like someone was punching or kicking something close to the phone. "You have to ask him yourself. But I will grill him, and try coaxing it out of him. Give me a moment."

"No, Dustin-!" Eddie didn't want to make the situation ever more tense than it already was, but Dustin was already off with his own plan. He realizes far too late that he might not have been the best person to call.

He has half a mind to call Steve again with a warning but he doesn't want to worsen his position even further. It will be bad enough when he finds out Eddie sent Dustin after him. Maybe the best course of action is to let it play out with minimal input and whatever happens, happens. In the worst-case scenario, he still has his Corroded Coffin guys.

Eventually, he holes himself up in his room, waiting for the storm to pass.

see, and i forgot to tag, just like I said I would. Anyway: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #wereshifter au #shapeshifter steve harrington #werewolf steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #ff

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irisintheafterglow · 2 years ago

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here we go again with my bullshit about coparenting megumi with satoru

most days, megumi and tsumiki are with distant relatives on tsumiki's mom's side. however, during what satoru affectionately calls "fun weekends" or fweekends when neither of you are sent on a mission and tsumiki is hanging out with her friends, you call whoever megumi is staying with to tell him to get his backpack ready for an adventure. and, at 9:00am sharp on friday, you sign megumi out of school early and meet satoru at the zoo.

you hand megumi one of those applesauce pouches to eat with one hand while his other firmly grips your pinky as you approach satoru at the front entrance. he's opted for sunglasses instead of the blindfold today and is unironically wearing a fanny pack slung around his chest. he gives you a peck on the cheek and whispers you look so pretty today in your ear before grabbing megumi and hoisting him on top of his shoulders, marching into the zoo.

and that's where megs stays for the majority of the day, stationed on top of satoru's towering body to get a better look over the crowds. his hands find fistfuls of snowy white hair but satoru doesn't mind at all; with megumi on his shoulders, satoru's hand finds a permanent place in yours and the other hovers next to megumi's waist in case he loses his balance. when he does let go of your hand, it's to hold megumi's legs in place as he jogs around the surrounding area making racecar noises.

you make megumi wear a bucket hat to protect his face from the sun and satoru takes him to the bathroom every time you pass one, which he reluctantly obliges. satoru also gives him a very extensive lesson on the importance of sunscreen while you're in the bathroom and they're looking at the flamingoes.

despite his indifferent disposition, megumi finds the zoo fascinating. his eyes give his emotions away, and your heart feels lighter as you see them twinkle with intrigue and widen with surprise as you navigate the exhibits. quietly, he asks satoru to take him closer to the wolf exhibit because it matches the stuffed animal you got him when you first introduced yourself. you stay there for a while until satoru tries to make them howl, in which case you drag both of them out of there. megumi also points at the polar bears and sarcastically asks satoru if he's related to them because of their fur color. his little hand reaches up to touch the flowers blooming in the trees of the aviary and he freezes up when a multi-colored bird lands on his head. you take a picture, megumi with a bird on his head and satoru glancing up at him, and make it your lockscreen. during lunch, you get another funny photo of megs and satoru having matching ice cream mustaches after you get soft-serve for dessert. satoru beams at the camera while megumi's tongue tries in vain to lick the ice cream off his nose.

before you leave to have dinner, you let megumi pick out a souvenir from the gift shop and he gets another wolf stuffed animal to be friends with the one you gave him. satoru buys you and him one of those magnetic best friends bracelets except the two halves make a bird resembling the one that landed on megumi in the aviary.

megumi hangs on to the wolf stuffie during dinner and snuggles it closer as he yawns in the car. when you tuck him into his room at jujutsu tech for bed, he asks when he can have another adventure with you and satoru.

#jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles

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twstfanblog · 2 years ago

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*~Period Drama~* Monday

A/N: Another thank you to @bun-lapin for allowing me to use their lovely OCs for this fic series! I love them so much and I'm having so much fun playing with them! Word Count: 8.4K Words Warnings: Mentions of Labor and Pregnancy, Emotional Breakdown, She/They OC Pronouns Pairings: Mentioned Yuu/Azul/Jamil/Malleus Poly, Paternal Crewel/Yuu Enjoy! Start, Saturday (Octavinelle), Sunday (Heartslabyul), Monday (Here), Monday pt2 (Diasomnia pt.1), Tuesday (Diasomnia pt2), Wednesday (Pomefiore), Thursday (Scarabia), Friday (Ignihyde)

~Taglist~

@twistedcece @deltrea @krenenbaker @koebishrimpuwu @cat100200 @emyluwinter @obsessionswithfandoms @ady-hilborn @lucid-stories @girl-nahh-two @itz-hydrodeptus-foxy7 @chyluna @riddlesimps @death-the-jo @a-twistedheartslonging @qixlin @chaosistheonlyway @welcome-to-my-horde @abell2029cluster @kirans-wonderland @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @the-ace-reader @iamsoconfusedallofthetime @chroniccorvus @marvelous-maxi @prolonged-eyecontact @lozplayer @jabberwocky-warrior @thateldribitch @bun-lapin @mel1rose @ladyraeka @ladyzsgolla @kimdourden @noncreativepage-blog @girl-nahh-two @shironakuronatasa @colombia-chan @roseapov @anunholyabomination @koebi-channnn @noises-of-nothing @creatorbiaze

Yuu felt awful. Just total dog shit in a bag and on fire, awful. But, that was to be expected when they had their period and hadn’t been able to take any pain medication in their regular fashion. So, in all honesty, they were fine.

She checked herself over in the bathroom mirror. Huffing under their breath and trying to get their hair to settle in a less haggard style. They weren’t too sure if they should even go to class. But then they thought about the fact they enjoyed school in Twisted Wonderland. They had teachers who, begrudgingly, took time out of their days to help the students understand the coursework. It felt like some kind of disservice to skip out just to laze around their dorm in pain. Not to mention, Crewel would have to either visit himself or have one of their friends bring them food and pain medicine throughout the day. It just sounded like a lot of unnecessary back-and-forth for everyone else that Yuu wasn’t in the mood to put their loved ones through.

So, Yuu had put her big girl panties on — and a hand towel shoved into her underwear, hoping she wasn't going to bleed through it — and got out of bed to go to school. She should also try to pick Grim up from Scarabia. While she’s sure her cat companion was having fun being held and hand-fed gourmet crackers, she did miss the furball. And if Jamil’s update texts were of any merit, he was pouting about being away from her for so long too.

Now fully dressed, and stiff with muscle aches, Yuu sighed as they walked out of their dorm. At least they were able to leave much earlier than they normally would. No Grim to drag out of bed and the fact they had been awake for hours beforehand playing a very key role in their earlier departure. With the Sun just barely peeking over the thick woods, they started their journey to the main road to the school.

But, stepping onto the dirt path that branched off from the paved walkways of the school’s actual borders, Yuu pauses, calling out, “...Jack?”

Tall gray-furred ears perk up, the massive figure they were on freezing at the call of his name. Jack turned around slowly, almost in confusion at being called out to. But seeing it was Yuu who called to him, his wide-eyed expression shifted, his eyebrows creasing as his eyes darted to the dorm before moving back to Yuu, “Why are you outside?”

“No, no, good boy. This is still my property. I ask the questions first. What are you doing out here?” Yuu raises an eyebrow, walking closer to Jack and watching as he seemed to grow more nervous.

“I was…Just on my morning jog…”

“...At 7:30am?” Yuu smiles, tilting her at different angles with each question, “Without Vil? In your school uniform? Walking at a leisurely pace?”

“Yes, what of it?”

Yuu smiled, covering her mouth as she playfully batted at Jack’s arm, the other Freshmen scowling and twitching his body away from her hits, “Aw~. Were you checking on me?”

“NO, stop hitting me!”

“Oh, by the Seven. I lived to see the day! Jack Howl, caring for his classmates. His heart has softened! He shows his emotions on his sleeve! His tail is wagging with glee!” “Shut up! It’s not!” Jack quickly looked behind him, just to double check his tail wasn’t actually wagging before he turned back to Yuu, “That’s not important! Why are you outside? Go back inside!”

“No? I’m going to class.” Yuu shrugs, moving to walk past him before the towering freshman steps in their path, “Jack. I was in a silly goofy mood, but not enough for this. Step aside.”

Shaking his head, Jack folded his arms, “No. You’re injured. You should be resting, not going to school. We’ll bring you notes or something. Go back home.”

“No~.” Yuu tried to step past Jack again, only to lock them both into a half-step and jump dance that quickly had Yuu groaning in frustration, “Fucking move your enormous self!”

“No! You’re going back to Ramshackle to rest properly.” Jack moves forward, hands braced to clearly pick Yuu up to carry them back to the dorm physically.

“Jack.” Yuu steps back, a hand held up in a motion of ‘Stop’, “If you fucking touch me, I will shoot blood on you so hard it’ll bruise and never come out of your jacket.”

Jack instantly steps back, hands pulling back to his sides in mild fear. He…had no idea if that was even a thing. Was it a thing? Could Yuu actually somehow spray him with blood with enough pressure to harm him physically? He didn’t want to find out. Looking away, Jack steps back another pace, “I just…Should you be walking around? You don’t look good…”

Yuu sighed, tilting their head back, “I’m…gonna live. Don’t worry about it, I’m gonna get a quick pain potion from Crewel and just…fucking deal.” Rolling their neck, they shrug their shoulders and finally fell in step beside Jack. Taking the time to playfully slap his back, “Come on, good boy. We got an education to get.”

“...” Jack sighed, “Stop calling me that. Leona-Senpai keeps mocking me for it.”

“Good, you’re too big. You need to be mocked before you get any taller.”

The walk to the main building was longer than Yuu cared to remember. It was only longer with Jack constantly pointing out that Yuu counted as ‘ill’ and that it would make sense for them to skip class for the day. Then, when Yuu stated they were fine, Jack would offer to just carry them on his back to the school since they were clearly in pain.

“Jack, you’re very sweet. I will literally bleed on you just to prove a point. Drop it.”

The beastman huffed, looking away in annoyance but not bringing it up anymore on their walk. But in the semi-crowded hallways, Jack didn't want to leave her side. He looked conflicted, glancing at Yuu then down the hall to where he was supposed to be. The scent of their blood was more noticeable the longer he walked with them and he could only guess how much stronger it would get during the day. Looking around, he could see other beastmen glancing at them in various degrees of concern and bewilderment.

“Don’t you have to go to class?”

Looking from their surroundings, Jack turned back to Yuu. He sometimes forgot just how small they felt beside him. Yuu wasn't the shortest of their friends and they wore heels whenever they could, not to mention they fit into Night Raven almost too well with the number of students they've sent to the infirmary. But smelling their blood, seeing how tired and simply weathered they looked…it made a part of him want to just scoop them into his arms. Try to hum and growl the obvious pain away, like how his own parents did when he hurt himself in his childhood.

But, he'd rather Yuu actually spray him like some kind of demented blood skunk than say that to them, "Yeah I'm…Yuu. You know you smell…weird, right?"

The look in Yuu's eyes literally made a bead of cold sweat form at his temple. Piercing yellow eyes quickly looking away from deep, near soulless black as he stuttered. Yuu somehow managed to learn Crewel-Sensei's famous "I will skin you alive and wear it as a coat" glare, something that quickly put anyone on edge because they weren't sure if they'd actually try to do it.

"Not! Not like smell ‘bad' weird! Just…off…like…" he blushes, a hand coming up to nervously thumb at a pinned back ear, trying to find the right words, "You…you smell like a lady…"

The glare had thankfully faded to a simple "That was the dumbest thing I ever heard in my life" expression. Yuu tilted their head both in question and to look Jack directly in his sheepish eyes,"..." They sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose and gesturing down the hall with their other hand, "Jack, go to class."

"But-"

"Go to class."

"Bye, Yuu."

They sigh, watching Jack's hunched figure scurry down the hall and into a classroom. Honestly, the fucking men of this school…

With a spin on their heel, missing the crowd of beastmen who jump and scramble out of their way, they walk toward the teacher's lounge. Hopefully, they'll catch Crewel before he made his way to homeroom for the morning roll call.

Instead, Yuu ran into Jamil and Kalim. The two Sophomores standing in front of a classroom and seeming to be arguing. Grim held in one of Jamil’s arms and clearly pouting. Whether it was from the lazy hold or his own bad mood, Yuu couldn't tell.

"I can take Grim with me to class. You already have issues focusing and Grim won't be any help in that avenue."

Kalim pouts, trying to take Grim from Jamil only to be denied each time, "Come on! You won't cuddle with him and he'll be so sad until lunch. Shouldn't we do our best to keep him happy until Yuu is feeling better?"

Jamil rolls his eyes, smacking Kalim’s hand away once again, "Yuu doesn't even try to keep Grim happy at all times. He can handle not being cradled for a few hours."

Yuu walks up beside the two, hands easily snatching Grim from Jamil’s grasp in his surprise, "I don't indulge him, Jamil. There's a difference." Yuu smiles, feeling Grim instantly start purring under her grip, shifting him until he was able to rest his arms on her shoulders in a lazy hug, "Sup buddy?"

"Why the hell are you here?"

"Hello to you too, Jamil, my love."

Grim grumbles, nuzzling into Yuu's shoulder, but pulling his ears back at their scent, "You still smell weird…" his grumbles turning into purrs as Yuu scratches behind his ear.

"Yeah. I'm still on the bleed, but I should be ok."

"How!?" Jamil looked ready to either burst a blood vessel, or simply grapple them to the ground to drag them back to Ramshackle. Which was fair, but Yuu felt like if anyone besides Grim touched them they'd start swinging.

Yuu shrugs, "It's fine. I'm…living. I can handle a day at school. Did it all the time back home."

"Yeah, I don't think that was healthy…" Kalim gives them a nervous smile, clearly wanting to gather them up in a hug but having enough sense to take note of their expression, "You look…upset…"

"Oh, I am. But, that's normal during this."

Jamil finally relaxed, if only to pinch the bridge of his nose, "Why are you here? You should be home, you're not well."

"Jamil." Yuu placed a hand on one of his shoulders, stepping closer to press their sides together and let the Sophomore wrap his arms around them. The contact was slowly worsening their mood, but they needed to ease Jamil’s nerves somehow, "It's gonna be fine. I'm on my way to get a pain potion from Crewel. I'm going to be sitting all day. So unless by some miraculous, horrible, divine intervention and periods become contiguous? Everyone else is gonna be fine, too."

"..." Kalim suddenly stepped back, his hands covering his lower stomach in brief panic, "Wait, it's contiguous?"

"No, you fucking- I'm gonna go." Yuu pulls away from Jamil, managing to pry the Sophomore's hands from their jacket, " I'm gonna go before I clock Kalim in the face."

"Me!? What'd I do!? I'm sorry!"

"Stop talking." Yuu took a breath, moving their arms to properly support Grim slung over their shoulder, "No offense Kalim, but the sound of your voice is activating my fight response. So I'm leaving before I put it into action." They nodded in farewell, almost stomping away from the confused duo. Missing the panic that slowly grew over Jamil’s face before he pulled his phone out and started texting someone.

Yuu walked down the hallway, doing her best to keep her mood above the poverty line. Beastmen bobbed and weaved through the crowds, watching Yuu through doorways and running back around corners when they saw she had noticed their staring. Normally she’d attribute it to Savanaclaw reacting to one of her and Leona’s public squabbles, but too many uniforms were sporting non-yellow ribbons to only be the Beast King’s dorm.

Showing up to the ornate door of the teachers' lounge, Yuu saw a group of beastmen from various dorms crowded around it whispering sharply among themselves. Yuu stood back a few moments before speaking up, “Are you guys gonna move or go in?”

The yowl the cat beastmen let out made everyone jump. Yuu stepped back as they all turned to look at her in what could be described as ‘horror’.

“...Um…Hi?”

“Do you need help!?”

“...” Yuu looked at the other beastmen, each one almost shaking with panicked expressions, “I gotta…get into the teachers’ lounge. So can you guys move?”

They moved as a unit, one of them even shoving another to get him out of their path faster. They stood in a single file line beside the door, looking at them in a mix of respect and fear. One started to scramble to remove his jacket, placing it on the ground for Yuu to walk on as if it were some kind of tiny red carpet. The taller boy smiles sheepishly and gestured for Yuu to go into the room.

…

Yuu looked down, doing their best to not walk on the jacket, “Okay…Thank you…Please leave.”

There was a second scrambling, the same student shoving the other straight to the ground as they all tried to leave. The cat beastman doubled back. He stood fidgeting with his fingers and biting his lip. Looking at him closer Yuu could see he was from Heartslabyul. Seeming to gather up his courage, he looked at her with a firm nod, “You’re doin’ great!'' Then he turned tail and ran down the hall. The group of them peeking from around the corner before fully disappearing.

…

Grim pulled his head from Yuu’s shoulder, looking at them in sleepy confusion, “What was that about?”

“I…I wish I could tell you, Grim…Let’s just go see Crewel.” Yuu leaves the jacket on the ground, stepping over it awkwardly and opening the door, “Oh, papa dog? Your favorite puppy is here.” Crewel’s head snapped around from his seat, Ingrid giving his neck a concerned look at the audible pop she heard from across the table, “Why!?” He looked Yuu over in bewilderment, standing up and rushing to them, “WHY ARE YOU HERE!?”

“Well, I'm in this room to get some pain relief. But, I’m in the building to go to school? That thing you guys really want me to do? To get an education or something?”

“WHY-” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to calm himself down. He bends down and places a hand on Yuu’s free shoulder, pulling her closer to speak softly, “My sweet puppy. My little mongrel. My mini menace…Why are you coming to school when you are actively bleeding from your vagina?”

“Because I’m not a little bitch?”

“You wanna repeat that?”

“Okay, okay!” Ingrid stood from her seat, gathering up the designs and fabric swatches she and Crewel were going over and quickly getting between the ‘father-daughter’ duo, “You two hotheads can cool down. Crewel, she’s here and willing to stay for classes. Now, as teachers, we’re not going to try to dissuade a student from attending classes now are we?”

Ignoring Crewel’s grumbled response, the redheaded woman turns to Yuu. Her smile turning strained as she gets a good look at the Freshmen. A part of her filing away the cutting remark of ‘hit by a truck chic’. But she keeps smiling, tilting her head in a questioning manner, “Yuu, are you…sure…you wanna go to class?”

Yuu sighed, taking one arm from supporting Grim to pinch at her nose. Copying the pose Crewel had just done only moments ago. Ingrid tried to keep her coo to herself. By the Seven, she really behaved like a mini Crewel at times.

“Ms. Oster. I'm fine. This is totally normal; it’d actually be weirder if I didn't go to school. Unless I'm like…dying, there's no reason for me not to deal with my daily burdens while on my period. I just need a painkiller and I'll be good for the day or at least until lunch.”

Ingrid looks from the corner of her eye, taking in Crewel’s upset face before the bicolor-haired man scoffs. He rolls his eyes and turns on his heel, red bottom lace-up loafers clicking against the floor.

“I swear, you were born to a damned dystopia. No one should be leaving their home, let alone their bed, when bleeding like this!” He threw open the doors of a medicine cabinet roughly, fully stocked with all sorts of pain relievers though most of them were formulated for headaches. Being a teacher was hard enough; being a teacher at Night Raven College was a gauntlet.

Yuu shrugged, managing to catch the potion Crewel had flung at them. They were sure if they hadn't the teacher would have used their ‘decreased hand-eye coordination’ as a reason they shouldn't be in school. Uncorking the bottle, they gulped it down. While the pain was easing, none of the other symptoms did. They still felt awful, bloated, and as the fizzy thick syrup settled in their stomach, nauseous.

Hearing the small groan Yuu made, Crewel clicked his tongue, “Puppy, I'm serious. Go back to bed, you're not well.” His stern tone dipped into worry on his last word, expression changing from angry to concerned as he walked closer to them.

Yuu waves not only him but Ingrid off, breathing evenly to get their body back in check, “I'll be fine…period never stopped me before, no reason for it to stop me now…” they sighed, letting Ingrid press a hand to their forehead briefly.

“...” Ingrid hummed, pulling her hand away to instead pick and straighten Yuu's uniform, “They don't have a fever…and they did manage to walk all the way up here. She might be okay to stay, Crewel…”

“Ha!” Yuu smiled at Crewel, “Get outvoted, bitch.”

“You wanna stay for classes!? Fine!” Crewel slapped his crop in his hand out of frustration, growling under his breath before waving the crop around as he walked, “Well then, hurry up, puppy. Follow me to class. You're lucky it's joint lessons today. Homeroom and potions will just be lectures.”

Even though Grim groaned in their arms, complaining about how boring just sitting was going to be, Yuu was pleased, “Perfect. I don't have the beans to actually measure shit out right now.”

“Amazing. It sounds like you shouldn't have come to classes.”

Ingrid chuckles, waving the two away as they leave the room, still nipping comments at each other in annoyance. Once she was sure they were gone, she whipped out her phone. Typing furiously into the teachers' chat room. If Yuu was going to be on campus, she needed to make sure Hui-Yan kept a certain someone in Diasomnia for as long as possible.

Yuu and Crewel walked into the room, the teacher lightly shoving Yuu toward their seat, “Sit. And if I see blood on the chair when you leave, I'm dragging you back to Ramshackle.”

Their response was to quickly flip Crewel off, rushing over to their seat when the teacher raised his crop in a threatening manner. Sitting down, they nod their head in a greeting to their friends before placing Grim on the desktop, “Sup?”

Ace and Deuce were staring wide-eyed, each leaning on the table in an effort to get a clear view of them. The duo looked at each other, then looked across the room to Jack and Epel. Jack carrying a pinched expression, the look of guilt just barely coming across as Epel ogled aghast. The purple-haired boy gestured as subtly as he could, not wanting to call attention to himself as Crewel started to write on the board.

Deuce cleared his throat, hesitantly nudging his arm against Yuu's, “Yuu…do you really wanna be here right now? With everything going on?”

“Do you wanna die, Deuce?”

“...” The spade card soldier shared a fearful glance with Ace before answering, “No…?”

“Yeah, but you're gonna do it one day anyway. That's how I'm doing right now, so don't talk to me about this.”

Ace winches, tilting his head in confusion, “If you don't feel well why didn't you just stay home?”

“Ace, I don't…wanna have to explain this to you guys all day. I don't feel good but I'm not dying. Just leave me alone and we can all get through today with our bones.”

The Heartslabyul duo clearly wanted to say something else, hoping to wear down their friend into going home. But the resting bitch face was stronger than normal, and neither wanted to test if Yuu was willing to actually attack them during class. So instead they sat quietly, taking their time to send messages with the other first years across the room.

Throughout the class, Yuu's glare only got worse. A headache almost forming from just how strained their facial muscles were. Crewel snapping his crop more than normal wasn't helping either. The professor kept dead stopping in his lecture to demand the attention of the class. Yuu didn't hear anything that would normally call his ire. Sparing a glance around the room, they noticed a few beastmen quickly look away when their eyes met.

Yuu managed to keep eye contact with one, a canine beastman jumping up from his seat, seeming to ready himself to vault over the table.

“SIT DOWN!” The crop hit Crewel’s desk so hard Yuu was afraid that the poor wand would just snap in half at some point.

The yell was enough to send the beastman crashing back into his seat. The Ignihyde student blushing furiously as he tried to curl away from the view of his classmates.

The class settled into an uncomfortable silence, Crewel grumbling before he turned back around to aggressively write on the chalkboard, the chalk squeaking harshly with each swipe.

Yuu sighs, gathering an already snoozing Grim into their arms and using him as a mock pillow. Lying their head down, they closed their eyes and welcomed the half nap that quickly took them over.

If coming to classes was a ‘bad idea’, going to PE was a horrible, shitty idea. Yuu had only gotten into their uniform by the grace of the Seven and whatever many other icons decided to help. The fact they'd need to change again after class only made their stomach churn.

By the time they walked out to the field, they were the last one to line up. Jack sends them a glance from down the line but straightens up as their teachers call for their attention.

Vargas boomed out a laugh, “Now that you’re all here, let’s get those muscles primed and trained! Let’s do some quick stretches, then you’ll pick which training to do today. Either strength training with me or endurance training with Professor Dubhghall.”

Iomhar Dubhghall was a tall, quiet man. From afar, he looked like an average person, but standing closer, you saw just how large the man was, broad-shouldered and long-limbed. While he did teach physical education like Vargas, he spent most of his time focusing on a sparring-centered class that was only open to the 3rd-years. Yuu had met him only a handful of times, delivering staff handouts in Crowley's place was the only real way their paths crossed. He rarely spoke, but Yuu had the impression he was pleased enough with her. He had once called her back during a delivery to teach her a few moves on a practice dummy before sending her on her way.

Yuu didn’t mind the other gym teacher; she kind of preferred his quiet judgment over Vargas’ bombastic demands to ‘build muscle’. Overall, a more balanced teacher.

Sadly, neither PE activity was high on their list to do. They groaned and grumbled through the stretches, Jack muttering back to them that the stretches were almost over, to hold on for just a bit longer. Touching their toes made their stomach roll, having to swallow down what they feared really was vomit. Once the warm-ups were done, Yuu groaned, sitting down on the ground as the other students quickly divided themselves among the activities.

Epel tried to walk closer, a nervous expression on his face, before he was called from one side of the field. Someone obviously taunting him about not being brave enough to spar. The Pomefiore Freshmen growled, looking at Jack before the two of them nodded, Epel running after the student who mocked him. Instead of picking an activity, Jack stood vigilant beside their seated form, eyes scanning the crowd. Every now and again, he’d growl or increase his glare in a direction.

Ace and Deuce ran around the track, Grim hot on their ankles as they would look over every time they passed her. The Heartslabyul duo checking on her in their own way.

Vargas looks to the side, opening his mouth to call Yuu over, only to stop at a firm hand resting on his shoulder. Iomhar didn’t turn to face Vargas’ confused glance, only shaking his head. Vargas huffed, folding his arms but not calling out to Yuu, “I don’t see why she should be allowed to sit out…If she had the energy to come to class, she’s got the energy to build her muscle.”

Iomhar shook his head again, “Just because she had the will to get to the mountain doesn’t mean she has the might to climb it. Not today at least…”

“What does today have anything to do with it?”

“...” The other teacher looked at Vargas with an exasperated look, “Do you not check your phone?”

Yuu sat silently, hands gripping and ripping into the grass in a method to distract themselves. Luckily, Jack kept his strange guard around her. The Savanaclaw student every now and again rushing around to grab and offer Yuu a cold water bottle that she would only accept half the time. Mid swallow, a familiar Heartslabyul student walked closer, ears pinned back as Jack growled at the cat beastmen.

“Jack…Calm down.” Yuu tilted their head at the Heartslabyul beastman, questioning glare just a bit fiercer than necessary, “What do you want?”

“...” The cat beastman suddenly got nervous, shuffling his feet and looking down before breathing out, “We made you something…Come see?”

“...I guess?” Yuu groans, standing to their feet and sighing, “What’s this thing?”

The student perks up, gesturing behind him to the bleachers, “It’s under there! Me and some others worked hard on it so it’d be extra comfortable for you.” A beat of silence passes before the beastman steps closer, “Do you need me to carry you?”

Fuck no? That was what Yuu was going to say. Instead, they had to force down a gag as they felt themselves being scooped up and jostled into large, firm arms. Once the nausea faded, they realized they were in Jack’s arms. Their Savanaclaw friend glaring daggers at the shorter student.

“I’ll carry them. Just lead the way…” Jack looks at their bewildered face, ears pinning back in embarrassment, “Sorry…Should've asked…”

“You shouldn’t have in the first place.”

Jack hummed in what had better be agreement, following the jittery Heartslabyul student behind the bleachers. When they arrived, Yuu still wasn’t sure what they were supposed to be looking at. On the ground, protected from the dirt by a tarp, was a pile of fabrics. It looked like a mess of school uniforms all piled together and formed to give it a side so that someone could lie lounge style. Looking longer. Yuu noticed a few pieces of clothing that belonged to her friends. Epel’s ruffled dress shirt, Ace’s tie with a playing card tucked into the back folds, and what seemed to be Deuce’s track hoodie.

Silence passed, until Yuu spoke up, “What the fuck am I looking at?”

The group all deflates, turning to start whispering to each other. ‘They don’t like it.’ ‘I told you we should have put food nearby!’. ‘We didn’t get enough of their friends' stuff…’

“No, don’t ignore me, tell me what the fuck I’m looking at!”

Jack huffed but didn’t demand an answer either. Readjusting them in his arms before turning away with a mutter of, “Pitiful…” Exiting the bleachers as the group of beastmen starts to mobilize again.

“I’ll go grab snacks!” “You! Go grab some blankets and pillows from your dorm!”

“How did I not think of it!? Pomefiore is a haven of proper materials!”

Yuu scowled, upset from still being unanswered, “Jack. What in the green eyes of the thorn fairy was that bullshit?”

Jack glanced away, ears pinning back as a conflicted expression crossed his face, “...” He opened his mouth.

“Jack. If you tell me something along the lines of, ‘I smell like a lady’ again…something…will happen to both of us…”

And his mouth snapped shut, the clinking of his teeth being the only noise he made. Reaching back to their plot of free space, Jack moves to place Yuu back on the ground.

“No.”

“Alright…” Jack stood up straight, keeping Yuu in his arms. Eyes scanning the surrounding area for various “dangers”.

From the side, Vargas looked up from his phone and groaned, “Iomhar, look at this! They’re not even sitting anymore! Howl’s carrying them around. I’ve had plenty of muscle cramps in my life, this can’t be as bad as everyone is claiming it is.”

Iomhar again shook his head, “Yuu’s already primed to fight anyone they please. It’s even more so now, and I don’t believe any fondness they hold will stop them from trying to hurt someone…So if they attack you, I’m not pulling them off your neck.”

“Phhht. I doubt they’d be able to reach my gloriously robust neck. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of fighting Little Ramshackle?”

“I don’t fight children, Vargas. I at most spar with them, and at least, train them.”

“Oh, and I assume flipping the Schoenheit boy three times in one match was sparring.”

“It was. It was in the ring and everything.”

Yuu glared at her friends, Grim held firmly in her arms, “Literally…All of you?”

Epel smiled, a bead of sweat just barely rolling down his temple as he tried to steady a clearly distressed Sebek who was clawing at the hallway wall in a bent-over position, “Sorry…Sebek’s really not feeling well. Ace, Deuce, and Jack are helping me since Diasomnia gives me the creeps. We’ll try to be back by lunch! To keep you company!”

Yuu shook her head, walking past the group of nervous boys, “Don’t worry about it. Take little bitch boy Sebek back to Diasomnia. I’ll…take notes or something, I don’t know…”

Deuce spoke up, nervously rubbing the back of his head, “Do you…wanna come with us-”

“NO!” Sebek jumps up from his huddled position, the panic clear in his expression as though Deuce just suggested they all go line up to punch Malleus in the face. He realized his outburst, turning to Yuu with a fearful expression, “Uh…I mean…Please don’t come to Diasomnia.”

“...” Yuu blinked before shaking her head and walking into Trien’s room. Whatever was going on today with everyone was something she did not have the bones or spoons to try to figure out.

The potion had started to fade, feeling the tightening pressure did nothing to help their rolling empty stomach. Their mood had also not gotten any better. For the rest of gym class, the same beastmen students had continuously called Jack to carry them back behind the bleachers and show off increasingly elaborate piles of fabric. They still refused to just tell them what the fuck the mess was supposed to be, only growing more determined to ‘get it right’. But when they had failed by the end of the class, they had actually apologized to them profusely and wished them luck before rushing off to their own classes.

So, by Night Raven boy standards, very fucking weird.

Yuu should have asked at least one of her friends to stay behind in class with them. One of them to act as a buffer against the wide-eyed stares of various Freshmen and Sophomore students who hadn’t seen them yet today. She clicks her tongue, looking around the room and breathing a sigh of relief seeing Ruggie. The hyena beastman had a half-eaten donut shoved in his mouth, slowly chewing to make it disappear, and rifling through his beaten-up bag. And just her luck, the seat next to him was empty.

They sat, letting Grim crawl out of their arms and getting comfortable, as much as they could with the cramps slowly returning and the feeling of a moist hand towel against their pussy, “Hey Ruggie.”

“Hey-Hold the fuck on…” Ruggie whips around, looking at them as though they were back from the dead. The hyena leaned closer to them, sniffling deeply before pulling back so hard he almost tipped out of his seat, “By the seven, are you okay!?”

Grim gave Yuu a nervous glance, waving a paw as he tried to warn Ruggie to calm down his concern, “Uh…Hey listen-”

“Ruggie, do you wanna be okay?”

“...” The Savanaclaw Sophomore actually looked down, seeming to weigh his options before he looked up and nodded, “Yeah?”

“Okay, then I’m gonna need something from you.”

“Sure! What ya need? You want some water? I think I got an unopened bottle left, hell, just take the one I had, too. You must be hungry, you’ve probably been working hard all day. Let me see if I got anything in here to eat-”

“Ruggie.” Once Yuu was certain they had his attention, they motioned him to lean closer again. He did, though he looked mildly reluctant to do so. Once he was close enough, Yuu gripped him by the collar and pulled him even closer to whisper, “I want you to shut the fuck up. Just…Just shut the fuck up for the whole class. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Less intensity.”

“Yeah, I can do that…Do you want the water though?”

“...” Yuu sighed. Maybe water would help their growing nausea. “Fine. And a sucker if you got it.”

Ruggie turned and searched through his bag, quickly pulling out a fresh water bottle and a handful of brightly colored suckers to dump on the table, “Here you go. Made them myself. The yellow ones are lemon; you like lemon, right-”

“Ruggie.”

“Sorry.” The hyena raised his hands, scooting away as much as he could without pressing against the other student beside him.

The joint history class was passing by. That being the best way Yuu could describe it. Trein’s dry voice, while being the worst kind of ASMR, had a calming effect on Yuu's thoughts. While it was history here, Yuu couldn't help but hear the lecture as a very detailed fairytale being read aloud in a fancy library. She could feel herself finally relaxing, stomach being slightly appeased by the sweet-flavored lemon suckers.

If she had bothered to look around, Yuu would have noticed how the beastmen around her were finally calming down, too. The clearly distressed mood from the Ramshackle prefect doing more damage than she thought it would have.

But the peace was broken, just as Yuu crunched down on their second sucker, the cracking being more audible than they were expecting. But seeing how Trein didn't stop speaking or even turn to them, they grabbed another sucker and started to open it-

“Sensei? Is Ramshackle supposed to be eating?”

It was like time had frozen. Trein’s writing had stopped abruptly, the chalk in hand snapping off in his tightened grip. Every beastman nearly stopped breathing, turning to glare at the Scarabia student who had spoken up.

Ruggie turned to Yuu, opening his mouth to tell them to not mind the student, they could keep eating their sucker. Only to jump back as Yuu stood up, slamming their hands on the table.

Trein felt his face pinch, watching Yuu gather up the half-empty water bottle and numerous unopened suckers. He sighed as Yuu walked toward the small wastebasket by the door, “Yuu, you don’t need to-”

“No, it’s fine!” Yuu shrugged in an almost frantic motion, slamming the water bottle into the wastebasket hard enough that the poor plastic bowl had nearly tipped over, “It’s fine. I just can’t fucking have anything!” They had moved onto the suckers, whipping each one into the basket with enough force that everyone was able to hear the candy being broken on impact, “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine!” At the end, they simply threw all of the suckers into the trash.

The room remained silent, waiting in bated breath as Yuu stomped back to their seat, ignoring the concerned looks from Grim and Ruggie. Without saying anything, Ruggie slipped his hand into Yuu’s, holding it firmly as a form of silent support. They looked over, expression clear that they were not pleased, but didn’t pull their hand away.

Trein looked over his class. The beastmen not close to Yuu were spending their energy glaring at the student who had spoken up; those closer were trying to subtly pass items to Bucchi. Hidden juice packs, different candies, and savory snacks. All things that were forbidden in his classroom besides a Pomefiore beastmen trying to hand over his gallon-sized personalized water bottle. He sighed. If he had the time to properly speak, he would have told the student to pay attention to the lesson and not his classmates sitting silently, minding their own business.

Sighing, he turned back to the board, grabbing a fresh piece of chalk, “Now…as I was saying…”

The lesson continued on, the air clearly tense as Yuu started to tap on their table in an increasingly aggressive manner.

Trein turns to the class, “Can anyone tell me what tactic was used in the battle against the invaders of the East Kingdom?” Seeing no one raising their hand, he unfortunately fell back on muscle memory. Yuu had shown great promise in his class, excitedly asking questions about historical events and even reading texts for the Sophomore or Junior classes on their own time. So it didn't occur to him that calling on them in their current state was not the right move to make, “Yuu? Would you care to enlighten the class?”

“...” Yuu stood from their seat, leaving behind a confused Grim and Ruggie, and walked out of the room. The door slamming hard behind them and rattling the surrounding frames.

…

Trein sighed, turning back to the chalkboard and continued writing, “Does anyone have the answer?”

The botanical gardens were always pleasant. Perfect temperature, no matter the season, full of fresh-smelling air. Even when the magical dome had its annual rainshower, Yuu wasn't above gathering their friends and sitting under a tree to chat in the sprinkle. Which is probably why the gardens were the first place their legs took them.

Just where he normally was, Leona lying down with his arms folded under his head in a relaxed pose. The Junior napping peacefully in his patch of overgrown grass. She sat beside Leona, moving to stretch her back as she did during gym.

Leona’s eyes snap open after a few beats of silence. He sat up on his elbows, looking at Yuu with wide eyes, “...” He tilted his head, eyes flickering to their lower body, “Are you okay?”

Yuu sat up, winding back their fist and punched Leona directly in the chest.

“AUH! You little-” Leona had pulled his hand back, fully prepared to backhand Yuu in retaliation before he paused. Taking in Yuu's face, he noted how pathetic they looked, even though they were glaring at him. He groaned and clenched his hand tightly. Having to remember his key reasons for not just striking back at every sucker punch Yuu managed to land on him. ‘They were younger than him. ’ ‘They didn’t have magic.’ ‘They knew better than to just hit him, so they clearly want him to do something. ’ He breathed in, putting his hand back down and raising an eyebrow at the angry scowl on Yuu’s face, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with everyone else!?” Yuu waved their arms around, as though Leona could see the examples all around them, “This whole fucking day, everyone’s been acting so weird! Jack was basically a fucking bodyguard for me during gym! Hell, Ruggie was almost trying to hand-feed me during history!”

Leona mumbled under his breath, realizing just how late in the day it had become, “Fuck, I overslept…”

“Plus, like, I think every beastman is acting like I’m about to explode if they don’t treat me like the most delicate little flower.” Yuu turned to Leona, confusion easily bleeding into their scowl, “Like, what the fuck is going on today!?”

“...” Leona points to between Yuu’s legs, nose wrinkling as he sniffles the air softly. “What’s happening down there?”

“I’m on my period…”

“Yeah, because I clearly know what the hell that is, Feral.”

Yuu groans out, the force of it almost making them slump over before they snap back up, “I’m bleeding out my pussy. Don’t freak out, it’s normal for me,”

Leona brought his fingers to his temple, sighing, “Yeah, that’ll do it…”

“Do what!?”

“Send everyone into a fucking panic. You smell like you’re in active labor…” Leona suddenly looked at them from the corner of his eye, “You aren’t, right? If that lizard actually knocked you up while you’re still in school-”

“I’m not pregnant! This is literally happening because I’m not pregnant!”

Leona leaned away, doing his best to not roll his eyes, “Okay. By the seven…I'm just saying if he did, you can sue him over that.”

“Leona, I'm not suing my boyfriend just because you've got some kinda one-sided blood feud with him.”

“One, it's not one-sided. Two, it's sound legal advice. You two had a binding agreement, and if he broke it, you have the right to-”

“Words can not express how much I want you to shut, the fuck, up…”

Leaning back, Leona scoffed. Arms going back to their folded position as he reclined on the grass, eyes closing, “Fine. Get fucked over for all I care…” After a beat of silence, he sighs out, cracking an eye to look at Yuu, “What happened? You're supposed to be in history. You're a little goody for Trein, normally.”

“...” Yuu sighs, taking the standing silent invitation and lying down beside Leona, hands folded over the growingly tense muscles of their pelvis, “It's just been…a lot today. I can normally handle my period just fine, but…”

The following silence quickly sombered their conversation. Leona gave Yuu his full attention, raising an eyebrow as a silent gesture for Yuu to continue. His concern almost showing on his face when they don’t respond to him, “Yuu-”

“YUU!?”

Leona’s ears pressed against his head at the yell echoing in the garden. He grumbles under his breath and sits up again, sniffing in the direction of the yell before calling out, “Stop making so much noise. We’re over here.”

Ruggie comes rushing around the corner, Grim just barely hanging onto him from his shoulder. In his arms were blankets and multiple kinds of snacks and drinks. “There you are! Are you ok? Ya hungry? I got some cold juice on the way over here. Leona, how's it looking? Are the contractions far apart still?”

… Yuu rolls over to fully press their face into the ground, frustrated screaming slowly growing in volume as they bang their fists against the grass. Ruggie had attempted to rush over, dropping the bundle in his arms only to be stopped by Leona’s outstretched hand.

“Calm down, she’s not pregnant. Just being a little bitch.”

“Wait, what?”

The screaming had died down, Ruggie and Leona speaking in quick mumbles to each other. Grim slipped off of Ruggie’s shoulder, cautiously nudging at Yuu’s prone arm.

“Hold on…this is normal?”

Leona shrugs, running a hand through his hair as he sighed, “I’m guessing from how pissed they’re being about people worrying over them…” His green eyes looked over Ruggie, noting his empty arms before he scowled, “And where’s my lunch?”

Ruggie rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue and picking at the collar of his too-big button-up, “Well, forgive me for being more worried about the potentially pregnant person about to pop out a baby to get you a damn sandwich…”

“That’s not an excuse to not do your job-”

Grim whined, pushing against Yuu’s arm even harder than before, “Yuuuuuu! Come on, henchman, I'm hungry! Don’t you wanna go get lunch-”

“NO!” Yuu snaps up, their yelling sending Grim rolling away from them and scrambling to hide behind an equally stunned Leona and Ruggie, “No! I wanna take a shit and die. Just fucking pass away from the mortal coil!”

“Yuu-”

“It shouldn’t be this fucking hard!” Yuu pulled themselves up from the ground, kneeling as they look at their hands, trying to find the answers to their boiling-over questions and concerns, “It’s normal! It’s fucking basic as fuck! Periods shouldn’t be this hard, things shouldn’t be this hard!”

Ruggie and Leona share a look with each other, the Sophomore trying to step closer, “Hey, bud, it’s okay-”

“IT’S NOT RUGGIE, AND THAT’S THE PROBLEM!” Yuu was almost shaking from the force of their welling emotions, “Everyone is acting like something’s wrong! And that has never happened to me past just ‘Oh fuck, your period started? You need a tampon?’ And that’s it! Like, I knew things were different here, obviously. But I don’t think about it, you know? But now I am, because everyone is acting weird when it’s just my period, it's not a big deal! But it is a big deal here! A lot of shit is a big deal here. And I'm thinking about where I came from a lot now and holy shit, I'm never gonna see those people or places again. And I'm okay with that, I’ve been okay with that! But, oh my fucking God, I am craving comforts and shit that I'm never going to have again. And I'm spiraling, thinking about the few things I do regret and how I'm never gonna be able to fix them. I won't even get to try! Does anyone even know I'm gone? Did anyone care? I'm in a place where I don't actually exist, bleeding out my pussy with basically no support, and I'm realizing I have never felt more alone.”

The only sound was Yuu’s harsh breathing, the magicless human trying to take deep breaths to calm her rolling stomach and fight against the tears threatening to spill. The three males all shared a look, having a silent conversation with a series of eyebrow raises and glares. In the end, Leona sighed, leaning over to place a hand on Yuu’s shoulder.

“Oi…Feral…You okay?”

“...Yeah…” Yuu’s face pinched up, a single sound of struggle slipping out as she shook her head, “No…” Turning, she dry heaved onto the grass.

“Oh, by the Seven…” Leona moved, reaching over and pulling Yuu’s hair back in time for them to let out a wet-sounding retch that finally brought up a bit of watery bile. He held their hair, silently directing Ruggie to wrap up the food items in one of the many blankets. He only looked back to Yuu once the vomiting had stopped, helping them to sit up, “Feel better now?”

Yuu looked at Leona, finally losing the days long fight to not cry. They shake their head again, tilting it down as they whimper, “I wanna go home…”

“Alright…” Leona slips his arms around Yuu’s body, easily scooping the smaller into his hold and cradling them close, “You shoulda stayed home in the first place…”

“Shut up…”

Leona looks to Ruggie, using one of his hands to grip the makeshift bag of treats, “Watch the weasel, I'm taking them home.” He made his way out of the garden, calling over his shoulder, “And you better have my lunch by the time I’m back!”

Ruggie sighed, sharing a look with Grim before he gave a disgusted look to the puddle of vomit on the ground, “I should find a hose or something to clean this up…smells awful-”

“Uh…Ruggie?” Once Grim was sure he had the hyena’s attention he pointed a paw to the top of the greenhouse dome, noting the fast-rolling dark clouds, sparks of green lightning seen inside them, “Should we be worried about that…?”

“...Shit…”

“Cozy?” Leona pulled away, making sure Yuu was completely covered by the blanket. She was curled up on the couch, sniffling and getting themselves fully comfortable before nodding their head, “Good.” Leona pulled a basket closer, the snacks Ruggie had gathered filling it to the top, as he offered a juice box to them.

Yuu took the box, the tops of their arms leaving the warmth of the blankets to open the drink. Sipping once from the tiny straw, before speaking, “Thank you…”

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me for this. Coming to school when you were sick and then throwing a tantrum like that…you know better, Feral.” but looking at Yuu's pitiful face, he felt his own frown soften. Kneeling down, he pets Yuu's head, subtly checking for a fever, “...Are you gonna be alright alone?” he asked it so softly Yuu almost missed it.

They smile, sniffling and wiping at their eyes, “Yeah…I think I just need a good cry…if it gets bad, I'll call someone. Promise.”

He nods his head, standing up and walking to the doorway of the lounge, “On or off?” At Yuu's soft call of ‘off’, he flipped the light switch. With the room in darkness, Leona gave one last grunt of goodbye, walking away as he heard Yuu's silent crying turn to choked-back sobs.

Outside of Ramshackle, he noted the shift in weather. The clouds he had noticed on the walk in had completely taken over the sky, still rolling like the bubbles of an overheating potion. And as he stepped onto the path leading away from the building, he saw a growing spark of green lightning. The lights crackling and seeming to follow the path of something, or rather someone walking in the direction to Ramshackle.

Leona sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking forward. Seems like he'd have to be the one to talk to Malleus…

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #savanaclaw #yuu oc #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #epel felmier #ace trappola #deuce spade #sebek zigvolt #papa crewel #divus crewel #malleus x yuu x jamil x azul

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biancasaidstfu · 6 months ago

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Wait oh my gosh someone in your comments said that the gray jacket on the chair in the White Mars group photo matches Nicola’s jacket she wore to her Back To The Future Musical picture (a picture she didn’t repost or put on her own grid) and I’m lowkey so hyped this could be the case. That blonde in Lucy Hale’s gelato pic really does look like Nicola! Do any Nicola fashion bloggers ever find her back to the future coat? It does seem to have like gray faux fur on it. This could make a lot of sense of that coordinated JD post while Nicola made a fun stop in Rome to visit Luke. I’m with others I’m having a good feeling right now. Graham Norton is this Friday as well right?

It’s a possibility.

Even if it isn’t it’s not changing my mind though!

Definitely looking forward to Graham Norton clips for sure.

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l0veu-somuch · 2 years ago

Text

nct dream as boy/girl dads ... 👼🏻⭐️

mark who still maintains his insane working hours and practicing late into the night even when he has his two favorite girls waiting back home (and it makes him feel terrible). he comes home when it's way past your daughter's bedtime and you're always still waiting for him even when it's three am in the morning. when the day breaks his daughter thinks she's being very quiet but she's quite clumsy as she steps all over his legs while she climbs onto the bed to wake him up. he blows raspberries onto the baby's cheeks as he trudges into the kitchen, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder as a thank you for the pancakes.

renjun who simply cannot contain his excitement when his daughter's painting is selected for an award in the school art competition. he brags about her drawings all the time to his parents, his friends, the elderly woman who bags his groceries. he says she got it from him. it's quite right. he cheers the loudest when her name is called, even blinks some pesky tears away (something you make sure to make fun of when you're in the car later on) when his sweet girl comes up on stage to accept her certificate and take a picture, in the dress she picked out with his help because it's a very special day.

if you ever asked jeno what he kept in his bag then you would (or would not) be surprised at the endless amount of candy and sugary treats he pulls out of it that he keeps for both himself and your daughter. it's clear where she got her sweet tooth from. usagi transforms into sailor moon on the television screen, your daughter astrode on his lap, each of them holding a pink spoon and taking turns scooping bites of cookies 'n cream and macademia into their mouths. you collapse onto the sofa with an exaggerated sigh once you finish dishes duty, your head falling into the unoccupied crook of jeno's neck. your daughter swings a spoonful of ice cream towards your mouth, calling it a reward for working hard "because daddy always does it" and you accept with a giggle.

donghyuck drums his fingers on the steering wheel to the soundtrack of moana, occasionally peeking to the back to check on his sleeping girl tucked into the car seat. he keeps a hand nestled into her soft locks as he steers her towards where you said you'd be waiting at the department store, making a very important decision on whether you should get the white or sage green kitten heels for your cousin's wedding in jeju next month. your daughter then pops on a pair of oversized celine sunglasses, and it's too funny and adorable that the salesgirl was giving the three of you the stink eye for making such a ruckus in the store. he pays for it anyways, because he'll probably steal it for himself for when he has to be at the airport at early hours to leave for an overseas schedule or concert.

jaemin tries his best, really. he just can't help it when he sees luke sitting by his son as he draws on the coffee table. you can't expect him to bake the chocolate chip cookies, watch for stains on the oak from your son's oil pastels and feed all three cats at once. he doesn't know how you do it. luckily the cookies don't burn in the oven, he puts down parchment so the oak table is safe, and all cats are soothed by your son's magic touch and gentle pressing hand. when you notice a speck of oil pastel in their furs later on you only sigh and make a call to the salon to get them a bath, noticing their claws have been getting too long to the point they can mar your precious boys' skin.

you raise a hand to shield your eyes from the blaring sunlight, the piercing rays making chenle and your son look like mere sillhouettes as they zip around the court, the boinking sound of the basketball echoing in the park that's not too crowded for a friday morning. you can tell he's being much more gentle and a lot slower than he usually does for your son, fixing his stances and the grip of his fingers on the ball as he demonstrates a three pointer. your son joyfully claps everytime he shoots, and he ruffles his hair as a thank you. he calls out to you, demanding his congratulations kiss, but there is no way you're even going to come close to two very sweaty boys under the sweltering august heat.

your son actually prefers jisung to read him the bedtime stories he keeps in his shelf. he tucks him into the crook of his arm, whispering gently of the boy who discovers a treasure box in the forest and goes on an adventure with his pet hamster. his voice is too low to catch over the running of the sink as you remove your makeup, secretly wishing your son would fall asleep faster so that you can brush your teeth together. you watch from the doorway as he very carefully detaches himself from your son's side to slip the book back into its place on the bookshelf, tuck the sheets up to his chin, and place a gentle kiss to his forehead before he clicks the star shaped light off and his arm comes up to circle around your waist, pressing you against the wall to collect his kiss that tastes like peppermint toothpaste and your scent he can never get enough of.

#nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #mark #renjun #jeno #haechan #jaemin #chenle #jisung #mine

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 year ago

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Hey hey! i have a third angsty silly idea teehee (yes same person who requested the one where wife reader gets teleported to the hotel and the one with the fake dating trope-)

Im at it again with my silly ideas i can’t quite get out of my head- so picture this RIGHT before the begging of the second fic (loved it btw if i could id kiss you on the mouth)

(this interaction is important) Reader is eyeing Alastor to subconsciously make him talk to her, he does of course it goes a bit like “Alastor dear, havent seen you before?” "Just moved in, thought of making some acquaintances” and they talk, reader tells him “a charmer too? should be careful around you not to break my heart” or smth smilar idk i suck at dialogue

And then the partnership happens and theyve been at it for a while (like at least 5 years id say)- until Readers twin brother dies in a planned house fire and she goes out for revenge, before that they have a fight like “youre going to be out numbered” “its suicide” blah blah blah- and eventually reader goes out alone

She does manage to to kill the criminals but because of the cold January weather and the exhaustion of it all- reader gets hypothermia and in the frenzy thats caused by it stumbles and falls into a fence spike of an abandoned farmhouse, gets impaled right below the ribs teehee, Alastor eventually finding her and goes out to bury her properly.

readers death happens in 1925 -8 years before alastor which gibes her enough time to take over half the pentagram with her blizzard/ice powers (cuz i think theyre. cool ;)) and is also important reader has a long tail with fluff (which can turn into a heart shaped fur or have happy/angry twitches) at the end because i think its cute and because her demon form has one so it matches (think the faceless room guardians by anyaboz on IG but fully white- with a void face from which emerges a dog skull at will). the normal form being overall relatively normal aside from the long ears and black limbs that symbolize the hypothermia part of the death (Yes this is an Oc but im making it a bit more generic for everyone :>)

When alastor does die in 1933 (when he got shot visiting readers grave) he hears of this blizzard overlord and goes a bit into her territory and into a bar where he sees a somewhat familiar person teehee and they have the same first conversation over again but in hell :D and then get reunited but possibly pull out their signature weapons on each other again for old times sake 😇

also i love you so much for taking the time to write my dreams it does mean quite a lot to me and if you want i can give more ideas because i have a lot more- 😇 (im tottaly not insane and or delusional i swear-)

A/N of course?? I’m obsessed with your requests. they’re always so fun. Also as a heads up, I decided not to do this as a part to for cover up because I got an earlier request asking to do a part two for that and I try to address requests in the order I receive them. I also made some other minor changes just to make it work a little smoother. Also, please keep sending in requests, yours are always so fun.

Frostbite (Alastor X Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Murder, death, gore, arson, a little bit of angst.

Word Count: 3,949

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor sat at the bar of Mimzy's club drinking like he did every friday night. Normally the whirling dancers and loud music merely served to give him a headache, normally he ignored them and all the fans who somehow recognized him from the radio. Tonight was far from normal, tonight there was someone new.

Spinning on the dance floor, the fringe of her blood red dress spinning out from her legs. The woman was all smiles, all laughter, and she seemed never to turn down a partner. He watched her, entranced.

The woman wasn't a talented dancer, far from it in fact, but what she lacked in skill she made up for in enthusiasm and enjoyment. He had no intentions of doing anything other than watching her enchanting display until he made eye contact with her across the club. She blushed, turning away and quickly engaging a friend in conversation.

It was all the encouragement Alastor needed. In the dim light of the speakeasy, Alastor smiled to himself. He downed the rest of his drink and got to his feet. The crowed of dancers parted to make way for him like the red sea, waves of whispers following his path. He could hear the chatter, knew the rumors that he was a man uninterested in women, uninterested in love or romantic involvements of any type He knew that that was what everyone was speaking of as he approached the first new face the tired old place had seen in ages.

Coming to a stop behind the woman, her friend saw him first. It made sense, her back was turned to him after all, a result of her embarrassment at having been caught staring. He friend tapped her shoulder, indicating for the woman to turn around, and she spun. Alastor could feel the hem of her dress as it brushed against his leg through the fabric of his pants. His smile grew.

"Haven't seen you around here before Darling," he hummed, "new in town?"

"Just moved in, actually." the woman bashfully replied, clasping her hands behind her back and crossing one foot in front of the other.

The position it threw her body into sent Alastor's mind reeling. He hadn't expected that. Sure, she was pretty and different, new, but Alastor didn't feel things like that. At least, not normally.

"Well, I'd love to give you a tour sometime. The name is Alastor, Alastor Hartifelt."

This was the test: his name. How would she react? Was she just another one of his simpering fans, begging for his favor, for his attention, or would she do something interesting?

He held out a hand which she daintily rested her own in, a smile spreading across her face.

"Y/n L/n. I'm free tomorrow morning?"

Alastor was lucky, Saturday mornings were one of the few he had free. Gently, he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand. Y/n felt her heart flutter inside her chest.

"Ah, a charmer." she hummed as Alastor raised his head again and she took her hand from his, "I'll have to be careful around you."

Everything had snowballed from there. The tour around the city had spiraled into dinner which had further fallen into an attempt by Alastor to take her life. He had been curious, how it would feel when the life drained from her body at the force of his hands. Instead, she had met his advances by holding her own knife to his throat.

It became a game of sorts for the two, always trying to outwit one another, one up each other, land the other six feet under. The game ended when Alastor was chasing Y/n through the woods and she had stumbled, falling to the ground. He had grinned maniacally as he had advanced on her, as she had scrambled on the ground away from him. Knife raised, her back against a tree, she had breathlessly asked him out on a date. How could he say no? Especially when he looked up and saw that she had planned this all along. There was no other way their initials could be carved into the surface of the very thing that had stopped her escape. It was perfect, she was perfect.

Five years of bliss. Five years of feathery kisses and passion. Five years of waking up to her smiling face, of washing the blood off each other's hands, of nearly wedded bliss. Then there had been the fire.

Y/n had a twin brother, a brute of a thing who always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Despite his flaws, Y/n loved him. This time, on a January morning in 1925, he had pissed off the wrong person and gotten himself killed. Y/n was inconsolable, spent every waking moment tracking the killer. It didn't take her long to get a lead.

She was halfway out the door when Alastor found her, shoving knives into her pockets and grabbing a gun. There was a wild, unfocused look in her eyes. Alastor turned his gaze momentarily to the setting sun as it sent rays of liquid golden light bouncing off the snow.

"Darling, what are you doing?"

"Going out." she gruffly replied, adjusting the laces on one of her shoes.

Alastor sighed. Y/n had mentioned to him just the day before that she had an idea of who was behind the murder and it wasn't pretty. The most controversial and strongest gang in the city had, according to her research, wielded the flames. Alastor took a step forward, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder and she turned to him. Her eyes were hard and narrow, her face contorted by rage.

"Y/n, please." Alastor began, treading carefully, "Not tonight. It's awful out, and you just confirmed everything today."

"No." Y/n shook her head, "No, I can't wait to do this any longer, Al. It has already been nearly a month, I can't..."

She looked away, raising a fist to her heart, her shoulders hunching slightly.

"I can't."

"And I can't loose you." Alastor quickly replied, using his free hand to turn her face back to his.

"So come with me."

He hesitated. Y/n saw the look on his face, the doubt. She shook herself from his grip, turning back to the door.

"Alright. I'll go alone."

"Y/n," Alastor pleaded, taking another step towards her as she grabbed her coat off the hook on the wall, "it is too dangerous. I can't let you do this."

"Let me do this?" Y/n spun around, her coat in her hand and flames licking at the corners of her voice, "You can't let me do this?"

Alastor took a breath, trying desperately to keep his own anger at bay.

"There are too many of them." he tried to reason with her, "You can't do it on your own."

"So come with me!"

"I..."

Y/n scoffed, sliding her jacket onto her arms. Turning back to the door once again, she unlocked it. Her hand rested on the knob, she took a breath. Their eyes met over her shoulder.

"I'll be home later."

She swung the door open and stepped out into the night. Alastor trailed after her, the snow sinking into his socks. It was cold, a terrible night.

"Y/n, you'll die!"

"Do you truly have that little faith in me!?" she spun around, her rage radiating off of her, devouring everything in sight.

Alastor had never seen her like this before. He halted in his tracks.

"Please, I can't..." he took a deep breath, emotions had always been a struggle, "I can't loose you too."

"But I'm supposed to loose my brother and know who did it and do nothing?!" she screamed back at him.

"You will die!"

Y/n turned her back on him once again. She unlatched the gate to the garden and slipped through it, letting it fall shut behind her.

"So be it."

"Y/n!"

Alastor tried to run after her but, it was simply too cold. His limbs were numb, he stumbled.

"Y/n!" he yelled again but, she didn't turn around.

He could see her, in that red dress. She looked like she did the first time he had ever met her as she disappeared into the night. He knew it was his mind playing tricks on him, it felt like an omen.

Alastor stood in the cold for a few minutes longer before resigning himself to the truth of it all: Y/n was going to do what she was going to do. He just had to hope she would come back, that the damage he had done in refusing to back her up like that wouldn't be enough to have driven her away. That she was strong enough to make it out alive.

The fireplace crackled invitingly. No matter how warm and cheerful it made the room, Alastor couldn't stop the dread. He sat down on the couch before it, painfully aware of the empty spot beside him. He tried to read.

The hours ticked by, seconds dragging on for eternity. Still, Y/n was not yet home. Alastor couldn't focus on anything. He couldn't 't read, couldn't sleep, could barely sit still. He paced circles around the room as the sun rose, he called in sick to work, intent on being there should she return.

When it reached four pm, when it had been nearly twenty full hours since she had left, he decided to go out and look for her. Y/n had always been messy, always bad at putting things away. While normally it had irritated him to no end, he now found himself grateful. He swore to whatever gods were listening that if she was alright, he would never bother her about it again because right there on top of her desk were all her plans, including the exact location of the gang's hideout, the exact place she had disappeared to.

The sight that met Alastor when he reached the old warehouse on the outskirts of the city was one he would never forget. Blood stained the snow red and there were bodies everywhere, both outside and within. It was clearly, Y/n's handiwork and he couldn't help but feel a tad impressed, he had underestimated her yet again. His slight smile, a result of the realization, fell as he spotted the footprints leading out of the backdoor.

He had tracked Y/n enough times to know they were hers, they couldn't be anyone else's. A trail of blood accompanied them, one foot dragging more than the other. Alastor tried to keep his head clear, his mind cool. He gave chase.

The back yard to the warehouse was large, gave the impression of going right off into the woods. Alastor soon realized that was not the case as the rusted, wrought iron fence came in to view. Y/n wouldn't have been able to see it. Judging by the way the tracks were iced over, it had been a long time since she had walked this path. In the dead of night, surrounded by trees, the fence would have come as a surprise.

As he got closer, the lump that he had assumed was a fallen branch came into more detail. Alastor's heart stopped, he rushed to her.

If only he hadn't waited, if only the minute he had felt she'd been gone too long he had gone after her. He might have been able to save her, to stop her from this cruel fate.

What had happened was obvious. The fence was iced over, slippery to the touch. Y/n had evidently tried to climb over it and lost her grip, the force of her fall being enough to ram the sharpened edge of one of the fence's defensive points right through her temple. Wrong place, wrong time.

Alastor had never cried like that before, as he sat in the snow at her feet, her body stiff from the cold. Not even when his mother had died could he ever remember feeling such a grief. It ate away at him, pooling in the center of his chest and spreading out. She had been so integral to who he was, so much a part of his life and way of being. She had been his dream, his end goal. Alastor remembered the ring, sitting heavy in the drawer of his night table. His tears redoubled.

By the time he managed to calm himself, the early winter sun had long since sunk to its bed and been replaced by the moon. Moving completely on autopilot, not considering his actions, Alastor wrenched her body from the fence. Y/n deserved a proper burial, in a place that mattered. He made her final resting place at the base of the very same tree she had told him she loved him while sitting at. His fingers traced their carved initials, grown hard with the years. There was nothing to be done.

The guilt ate away at him, festered over the years. If only he had stopped her, had gone with her, had come to her rescue. If only he had told her that he loved her one last time.

When Y/n awoke in Hell, to say she was surprised would be an understatement. She had never been one to believe in the afterlife in any sort of way, let alone such a wonderful one with so many opportunities for mayhem.

The thing that had been the toughest to get used to was her new form. All the demons in Hell got them upon arrival and when she caught that first glimpse of herself in the glass of a shop window, she understood why everyone on the streets seemed to be eyeing her fearfully.

She looked like she was rotting, her fingertips and toes black from the cold she had lost herself in. It trailed up her limbs, mingling with her own natural skin color. Her hair, her eye lashes, her eyebrows even, looked perpetually frosted with snow, little particles of ice hanging delicately in them. Then there were the horns and the tail, those were by far the strangest. The horns were pure white and curving like a mountain goats, the tail was thin with a little heart shaped ball of fluff at the end. It wasn't until another demon attempted to attack her that she realized the full extent of the changes that had taken place.

Y/n had just tried to punch the man, that was all. He had made advances, she had said no. He had tried again and she had told him she was married. It wasn't entirely a lie, they had been planning on it after all. Still, the man refused to listen and so, she had resorted to brute strength. When she had pulled her fist away, it was to find the man encased in ice. That was when the anger had set in.

Y/n didn't blame Alastor, not really. She was mad at him but, in the end, he had been right. She had died. It was all so brutally unfair. The way they had left things, that final fight, weighed on her soul. She wondered if he even knew she was dead, if he just assumed she had up and left him. The guilt, the what if's of it all, were crushing.

The stronger Y/n's emotions, the more uncontrollable her power. She still attacked people for fun but, taking over half of Pentagram City with her storms had honestly been an accident. In retrospect, she would call it a happy one.

Y/n liked being respected, being feared. She liked the near worship with which the smaller, weaker demons began to treat her. She settled into her new life with surprising ease and soon, every demon and hellborn in the place knew her name: Frost.

Y/n would've liked something different, preferred something cooler but, when the people give someone a name, its hard to change it and so, she embraced the title. Stone cold, cruel, powerful and appearing at what others perceived as totally inopportune moments. She locked herself, her heart, away. She swore never to make the same mistakes again.

Alastor visited Y/n's grave at least once every year. Always on the anniversary of her death, sometimes more frequently. That was where he too had met his death. As he had stooped low to place the bouquet of flowers he had brought on the surface of the hard-packed earth, the hunter had shot him, thinking he was a deer.

His arrival in Hell had been uneventful and not all together shocking. Alastor had been raised in a Christian household and although he never truly had faith in the matter once he had been old enough to form his own opinions, he had still always assumed that if there was life after death he was going to end up in Hell. He also knew that if he had ended up down here, Y/n had too.

The search was all consuming and fruitless. Every demon he interrogated, every one he thought had the slightest spark of his love within them, never had a single clue what he was talking about. Half the city was a snow storm and before long, that half was the only part he hadn't searched. Allegedly it was the territory of some new overlord known only as Frost who had taken Hell by storm - literally - just a few years before. Alastor already had a distaste in his mouth for the overlords, a sort of hatred spawned from something close to envy. He figured that worst case scenario, he could just add this Frost character to the list over overlords he had already taken out in the year since his arrival.

The chill of the air as he stepped over the border was a cruel reminder of the truth of his life. Alastor welcomed the cold with open arms, wondered if Y/n had already been killed since arriving in Hell. He had heard of the exterminations, it wasn't too wild of an idea. The thought gnawed on his mind like a parasite, intent on seeing him dead. Alastor progressed.

The fact that in death he still felt such things as hunger had been a mystery to him. There was something poetic about it, something forlorn in the idea that hunger and touch were the only things that followed a person to their grave. He stepped into the restaurant, his stomach growling, and walked up to the bar.

"Do you have beignets?"

Alastor knew the answer before the barkeep even shook his head. He sighed, falling on to one of the stools.

"Sausage and grits."

"Coming right up."

Alastor tapped his fingers on the counter, watching the world around him. Hope was running thin, anxieties and hurt taking over. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, how much more disappointment he could take.

"Haven't seen you around before, Darling," a voice purred from behind him, sending shockwaves of pain through his chest, "new in town?"

He summoned his microphone into his hand, ready to fight. It didn't matter that the demon most likely had no idea the effect of their words, the connections they had to his own past life. All that mattered was that he felt like he was being mocked, the world was parroting his life back to him because Y/n was out of his reach and probably would be forever more. He turned to face the person, a sickening grin spread tight across his face.

The demon had a clearing around her, the crowd avoiding her at all costs and whispering to one another behind the cover of their hands. Her tail flicked back and forth, ice emanating from the place her feet hit the floor.

There was something oddly familiar about her, the cocky smirk, the confidence. Alastor got to his feet. He leered over her and the woman didn't flinch one bit.

"Who's asking?"

A threat. The smile on the smaller demon's face grew, snow beginning to pile up on the floor in the corners of the room.

"You know, it's really far too cruel of you to go around with a voice like that." she hummed thoughtfully, a finger to her chin, "Gets a girl's hopes up just to shatter 'em on the floor."

Alastor could feel it now, the cold nipping at his extremities. Wind picked up in the indoor space and demons began rushing out through the door as quickly as they could. Alastor stood his ground.

"Ah, so you're the one responsible for this little snow town?"

"Why yes, I am."

"You're rather cruel yourself, you know." he mused, "Using my own words against me, how did you know? Do you overlords have some way to read a person's mind? Find the center of their desire and turn it to a weapon?"

Only now did the woman's expression change. Her calm facade morphed into confusion as the winds died down.

"What do you mean?"

"'Haven't seen you around here before, Darling, new in town?'" Alastor scoffed.

Y/n's eyes widened with a sudden recognition. It only fueled Alastor's anger as he took a step forward, shadows rising from the ground at his feet.

"I-"

"Just moved in, actually." the demon cut him off, holding a hand out for him to take, palm to the floor.

Alastor looked at her, disgust etched into his features.

"How could you..." he trailed off.

Eyes flicking over her form, Alastor examined the demoness carefully. Sure, she was different. She looked half dead, frost bitten to the extreme but, there was certainly something familar.

"Who are..."

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. Slowly, he took her hand in his. It was icy to the touch, sent shivers down his spine. With a practiced grace, he leaned down and planted a feathery kiss on the back of her hand.

"Ah, a charmer." Y/n smiled as he raised his head to hers again, "I'll have to be careful around you."

"Y/n."

It wasn't a question, he knew the answer. Alastor could feel it in his bones.

"Alastor."

She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him close. Alastor watched her movements in astonishment. Disbelief laid thick on his body, too heavy to allow him to move.

"I'm so sorry." she whispered into his ear, her breath a cold breeze.

"I... why are you sorry?" he asked, pulling her away from him.

Alastor placed his hands on her shoulders, brushing off a bit of snow that had landed there with utmost care.

"I'm the one who's sorry. I should have come with you, I shouldn't have said the things I said, I sh-"

"I love you."

She couldn't hold the words in anymore. Icicles of tears tinkled like glass as they fell from her cheeks and landed on the floor.

"I... I love you, Alastor. I can't... I always regretted... I..."

"Me too."

He pulled her back into his arms, this time holding her body tightly to his. The cold burned but he didn't care. The whistling of the wind outside seemed to quiet.

"I love you so much, Y/n. I am so sorry."

"I'm so sorry."

Y/n pulled back, cupping Alastor's face in her hands.

"Never again."

"Never what, my love."

"Never again will I be parted from you."

"I thought I'd never see you again." Alastor admitted, "I was beginning to lose hope."

"Me too, me too."

"Never again."

----

Next Part -> Day Lilies (Alastor x Blizzard demon!Reader x Angel!OC)

A/N I am such a little slut for a good reunion scene.

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 1 year ago

Note

Hear me out...

John Price as a mechanic

Oooh, now this is a fun wee prompt!

Mechanic!John Price Headcanons

CoD ML

Please forgive the haphazardness of this, I’m literally writing this on the spot. As such, it’s practically a somewhat chaotic train of thought, haha

- Fixes your car and charges you the actual cost of the repair because he knows how other garages charge a woman more due to the assumption she doesn’t know anything about cars/bikes and thus wouldn’t know any better.

- Tells you to only come to him from now on.

- As it turns out, he’s your new neighbour! You just happen to see him walk out the door right across the street one morning.

- So, as a proper (though belated) welcome and as an extra token of gratitude, you pop by his place with homemade scones. Afterwards, you often share food and stay over at each other’s places for tea and/or coffee or dinner.

- He’s surprised to see you on his doorstep, but invites you inside for a cup of char. And, gods, does he make a good cuppa.

- John’s glad to see you relax a little bit around him because he knows how a prominently male workplace can make a woman feel. Or, rather, how the presence of male strangers affects women. Henceforth, he keeps a polite distance from you and tries his best to make you feel comfortable.

- Should it be his day off and you’re having trouble, he’s quick to help out regardless. Like, he’ll suddenly pop up behind you with a “Having trouble, miss?”. At first he feels bad about scaring you, but the regret turns to amusement the more it happens. As much as he knows you tend to live in your own bubble, your squeals of surprise as he brings you back to reality, to him, never fail to make him chuckle.

- Always has a smear either on his face or arms regardless of whether he has a day off or not. Although, make that multiple smears.

- He’s literally covered in them when you pop by his garage with coffee and/or tea for your Wednesday and Friday lunch breaks together.

- But those on his chest are particularly interesting and unfortunately only visible during summer. It’s seriously the only time in the year you have the chance to see him shirtless. You can’t help but notice how some of the oil stains accentuate his toned chest and pronounced pecks, darkening the already black fur covering his chest.

- Ooooh, the urge to trace his happy trail is real and John goes near feral at the thought of you doing so.

- But his years in the army have taught him that patience is key… most of the time.

- As it is now.

- First he wants to establish a strong friendship. And if that’s all there will be between you two, so be it.

- Though he pretty much is already head over heels for you.

- Fell for you the moment you scrubbed some oil and grime from his face, completely oblivious to how your hand cupping his cheek made him feel. He’ll never forget the way you didn’t dare to look him in the eye, looking away with a rosy flush in your cheeks when you caught him gazing at you, enthralled.

- “Do you always have these?” Your light grumbling back then combined with your focused efforts to clean him up still makes his heart flutter. It’s a moment he often thinks of.

- A moment he one day hopes stems from love.

#John Price #Captain John Price #CoD x Reader #John Price x Reader #Captain John Price x Reader #Captain Johnathan Price

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agentstarkid · 10 months ago

Text

AN ETERNAL LOVE BULLSHIT ✦ DR3

Based on this ask

✦ PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ CHECKERED FLAG: 3.7K words (I tried to keep it short, oops)

✦ TRACK LIMITS: angst, self-doubt, crying, feelings of not being enough, heartbreak.

✦ MAY'S RADIO: I've had this on my drafts, ruminating on it for days, soooo I hope you guys like it. Vitto, Iza and Chloe are the real MVPs of this chapter! Queens uplifting another Queen 💅🏽💖 This was fun to write! Thank you so much nonnie for this idea! ilysm <3 p.s. can y'all spot the song references? 👀

This is set during Saudade. | Everything between "—" and italized are flashbacks.

< previous chapter | series masterlist | general masterlist | next chapter >

The end of April in California had days of clear skies, endless blue, and a gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The sun shone warmly, casting a golden glow over everything it touched, yet the cheerful weather felt almost mocking to her current state.

Her guitar lay across her lap, repurposed as a makeshift table for the notebook where she hastily scribbled words, each one an attempt to capture the storm of emotions swirling within her. The grass beneath her was cool and grounding, but it did little to tether her to the present. Every line she wrote was a desperate attempt to process the pain, to make sense of the abrupt void he had left behind.

Life moved on around her with an indifferent rhythm, but her mind was still stuck replaying the scenes in a Bahraini hotel room on a fateful Friday morning in March. She was stuck, a relic in a world that had already moved on, trapped in the shadow of what once was. The ache in her heart was a constant companion, a reminder that she was still right where he left her, struggling to find a way back to herself.

Her pen moved frantically across the pages, as if the act of writing could somehow release the torment inside her. But each word, each lyric, only seemed to root her more firmly in the past. The guitar beneath her fingers, once a source of joy and creativity, now felt like a conduit for her sorrow. She was lost in her own words, hoping that somewhere in the tangled mess of emotions, she might find a way to heal.

But amidst the ache, she found solace in the unwavering support of her friends.

Since landing in Los Angeles, her friends had been her rock. When days of isolation had left her feeling like a shell of herself, Vitto and Andrew had intervened, offering her refuge in their home outside the city. Their house, tucked away from the relentless glare of cameras and the whirlwind of drama, had become a sanctuary. The quiet of their surroundings was a balm for her frayed nerves.

Baby Iza, their little bundle of joy, at almost 1 year old, was a constant source of comfort. The child's tiny hands and infectious giggles seemed to have an almost magical ability to lift her spirits. It was as if Izabele could sense her sadness and made it her mission to shower her with love and affection.

With the sun casting gentle rays through the window, the child would toddle into the room with her tiny feet pattering softly on the floor. Her face, a picture of innocent determination, was often lit up by a bright smile. She would clutch a small toy in her chubby hands—a plush animal or a colorful block—and make a beeline for her godmother, as if to say, “Here, play with me. Everything will be okay.”

Sitting down beside her, Iza would arrange her toys with meticulous care, her eyes occasionally glancing up to gauge her mood. They would sit together in quiet companionship, the simple act of play bringing a semblance of peace.

As the night fell and the room grew dim, she would make her way to her aunt's side once more, but this time with a special gesture. She would carry one of her favorite teddy bears, its soft fur worn from countless hugs—she recognized it as the one that Daniel had gifted Iza when she was born.

Her sleepy eyes would barely stay open, and the pacifier bobbing gently in her mouth gave her a serene, dreamlike appearance. She would approach her aunt with the bear in tow, offering it with the sincerity only a child can muster. The gesture, simple yet profound, was Iza’s way of offering comfort and reassurance. The irony wasn’t lost on her, as the comfort offered by the bear was tied to the person who had broken her heart.

Despite the tangled emotions that the bear represented, she’d accept the gesture with a quiet grace. Each night, she would clutch the teddy bear tightly in her arms as she lay in bed, she would close her eyes and allow the bear’s presence to soothe her. It was a small, ironic comfort, a connection to a past she was still grappling with. She never spoke of it to anyone, keeping this bittersweet detail to herself.

Vitto and Andrew's kindness, along with Baby Iza’s innocent charm, and Fio and Danna’s constant facetime calls—and impromptu visits—, were her anchors, grounding her in a time of turbulence.

Rumors had started circulating about Daniel moving on with Heidi, emerging just two weeks after their breakup. As she heard whispers and saw the headlines, she felt a deep internal conflict. One part of her mind tried to dismiss the rumors, knowing all too well how the business thrived on gossip and sensationalism. She had been in this world long enough to recognize how quickly false narratives could spread and how little they sometimes reflected the truth.

Yet, another part of her, the part that had been wounded by every argument they’d ever had about their future, couldn’t silence the inner voice that screamed she was a fool. It was the same voice that had questioned every promise, every declaration of eternal love Daniel had made. How could someone profess to love her, to call her the love of their life—a million times—, to talk about rings and cradles, and then, almost as soon as it was over, move on to someone new?

But a single text changed her entire world.

The moment she received confirmation from Chloe that the rumors were true, a wave of crushing disappointment and pain washed over her. It felt as if the ground beneath her had given way, leaving her in a freefall of disbelief and heartache. The confirmation struck her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs and leaving her feeling hollow inside.

The betrayal was sharper than she could have ever imagined. Daniel, the person she had known better than herself, had indeed moved on after only two weeks. The image she had clung to, the person she had given the benefit of the doubt, shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. How could someone who had claimed to love her so deeply and had spoken of a future together move on so swiftly? The realization was a bitter, choking pill to swallow.

Her heart ached with a profound sense of loss, not just of the relationship but of the person she thought Daniel was. The trust she had placed in him, the dreams they had shared, all felt like a cruel joke. She felt duped, as if she had been sold a "get-love-quick" scheme by someone who never intended to follow through on his promises. The sense of being deceived cut deeply, leaving a wound that seemed impossible to heal.

She sat there, gripping her pen tightly, her mind swirling with the betrayal she felt so deeply. Without a moment’s pause, her pen began to race across the pages of her notebook, pouring out the raw, unfiltered emotions she could no longer contain. The lyrics flowed from her as if they were the only way to make sense of the chaos within:

And ain't it funny

How you ran to her the second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

You betrayed me

And I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

You'd talk to her

When we were together

Loved you at your worst

But that didn't matter

It took you two weeks

To go off and date her

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still a traitor

With each line, she felt the searing pain of his betrayal more acutely. How could he have moved on so quickly? The words “two weeks” echoed in her mind like a relentless drumbeat, reminding her of how little time it had taken for him to replace her. The sense of being betrayed, of having her trust shattered, was almost unbearable. She had loved him at his worst, given him everything, and yet it had taken him mere days to discard their love and move on to someone new.

The realization that she was right, that he had been talking to her while they were still together added salt to the wound. It made every moment they had shared feel tainted, every promise he had made feel like a lie. The anger and hurt intertwined, fueling the lyrics that poured out of her. He might not have cheated in the traditional sense, but the emotional betrayal was just as devastating, if not more so. To her, he was a traitor, someone who had violated the sacred trust of their relationship.

The pen in her hand paused for the first time in days, the words unable to flow as freely as before. The grief was too raw, too overwhelming to articulate. She felt an intense, suffocating sadness, mixed with anger and a sense of foolishness for believing in him. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and her chest tightened with the weight of unspoken emotions.

Her phone storage has been filled with voice notes for the past weeks, but the number has elevated exponentially since the news had hit. Her chat with her producer has been overflowing with “What do you think of this?”, demos shared between them back and forth.

For moments, she was consumed by raw anger, her pen becoming a weapon as she furiously wrote songs that painted him as the villain he had become in her eyes. She felt the fierce determination to make him know—and if his treacherous heart allowed, to feel—her pain.

Each line dripped with venom and sorrow, a raw portrayal of the anguish he had inflicted upon her. The thought of him reading her words and realizing the depth of her suffering provided a fleeting sense of power and justice.

But after the anger came a deep, suffocating depression. The reality of his betrayal settled over her like a heavy, oppressive fog. Each day felt like a battle to simply get out of bed, and her once vibrant spirit seemed to wither under the weight of her grief. She found herself crying at the smallest things, her emotions a raw, open wound that refused to heal.

—

One night Vitto found her in bed, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes red and swollen, looking every bit as miserable as she felt inside. Without a word, Vitto quickly gathered her in her arms, holding her tightly as the heart-shattering sobs began anew. The weight of her friend’s pain pressed heavily on Vitto’s heart, but she held her close, whispering kind and reassuring words, trying to contain the pieces of her shattered glass heart.

In a voice barely above a whisper, filled with desperation and heartbreak, she asked the questions that had been gnawing at her soul. “Why can't it be me for once, Vitto? Why can't someone choose me?” Her voice cracked with the weight of the pain she felt. “Is it so hard to love me? What's so wrong with me that no one has the will to stay?”

Vitto's heart ached at the sight of her friend so broken, so lost in her despair. She tightened her hold, pulling her closer as if she could shield her from the cruel thoughts that plagued her mind. “There's nothing wrong with you,” Vitto whispered back, her voice gentle but firm. “You are so easy to love, fofinha, and anyone who doesn't see that is a fool.” She prayed that her friend would see the truth in her words. “You deserve someone who sees you for the amazing person you are and who will never let you go.”

Vitto rocked her gently, smoothing her hair and murmuring softly. “You’re strong,” she whispered. “Stronger than you know. You’ll get through this, one step at a time. You have us, and we’re not going anywhere.”

That night, after the tears had subsided, she found herself sitting on the windowsill, staring out into the vast, indifferent sky. The weight of her grief pressed down on her chest as she gazed at the stars, feeling more alone than ever.

In the quiet darkness, she whispered her desperate plea to any entity that might be listening. She wasn’t asking for fame or fortune, but for something much simpler and infinitely more precious: love. A love that wasn’t for the artist she became on stage or the persona she put on for the cameras, but for her—the real her, with all her flaws, insecurities, and hidden depths.

She was on her knees, metaphorically, begging for someone to change her fate, to alter the prophecy that seemed to doom her to be always left behind. Why couldn’t someone love her as fiercely as she loved them—or even harder?.

The question lingered in the air, a painful echo of her deepest fears. She longed for someone who would choose her, who wouldn’t toss her aside once the initial novelty wore off and someone else, shiny and new, came along.

The night air was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the burning ache inside her. She closed her eyes, letting the silent tears fall, each one a small release of the pain she carried.

She wasn’t asking for much, just someone who would love her, not for what she represented, but for who she truly was. Someone who would see her, really see her, and still choose to stay. The silence of the night offered no answers, but she hoped—prayed—that somewhere, someone would hear her and bring her the love she so desperately craved. The stars offered no answers, but in the quiet of the night, she found a sliver of solace in the act of voicing her deepest wish.

—

The phone rang late in the evening, its sound piercing the quiet of the room. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the screen. Chloe's name flashed across it, and a part of her almost didn’t want to pick up. But Chloe had been there for her in ways she hadn’t expected, turning from an acquaintance into one of her closest friends. With a deep breath, she answered.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to mask the exhaustion in her voice.

“Hey, you,” Chloe replied, her tone gentle, almost cautious. “I just wanted to check in on you. How are you holding up?”

There was a brief silence, the kind that stretches out when you’re trying to find the right words to explain a pain that feels impossible to describe. “I’m… surviving, I guess. It’s been hard,” she admitted, her voice wavering.

Chloe sighed on the other end, a mix of empathy and frustration evident in her breath. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. And I hate that I had to be the one to confirm it. You deserve so much better.”

Her heart ached at the sincerity in Chloe’s words. “I don’t even know what hurts more—the fact that he moved on so quickly, or that I still can’t hate him for it. I feel like such an idiot, holding on to the person I thought he was.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Chloe reassured her. “You loved him, and you believed in him. There’s nothing wrong with that. But you have to remember that this isn’t about you, it’s about him and his inability to recognize what he had.”

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Thank you. It’s just… I keep asking myself how someone can move on so quickly. I thought what we had was real. We talked about a future, Chloe. The farm, rings, babies, all of it. And then, two weeks after we break up, he’s with someone else? It just… it doesn’t make sense.” she said, her voice cracking. “How could he say all those things to me, make all those promises, and then just... move on? Like I never mattered.”

Chloe hesitated, knowing that what she had to say might sting, but also feeling that honesty was necessary. “I know, and I wish I had the right words to make it better. I don’t understand it either. But people… they’re complicated, and sometimes they don’t even realize the damage they’re causing until it’s too late. Sometimes-” she let out a sigh, “Sometimes people make decisions that don’t make any sense, that hurt the ones they’re supposed to care about the most. But that’s on him, not you. You’re allowed to grieve, to be angry, to feel everything you’re feeling.”

“Do you think he ever really loved me?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had haunted her since the confirmation of Daniel’s new relationship, and now it hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded with vulnerability.

Chloe paused, her heart aching for her friend. “I think… I think he loved you in the way he knew how, but maybe that wasn’t the way you deserved to be loved. And that’s not your fault. It’s his loss, really. You gave him everything, and he’s the one who couldn’t appreciate it.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she fought them back. “It just hurts so much, you know? I keep thinking that if I had done something differently, if I had been better, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Chloe said firmly. “You did nothing wrong. You were yourself, and that should have been enough. He’s the one who couldn’t see what he had in front of him. But I see you, and so do the people who really care about you. You’re not alone in this.”

The girl swallowed the lump in her throat, grateful for Chloe’s words, for her friendship. “Thank you, Chloe. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you, no matter what,” Chloe replied warmly.

As the conversation between the girl and Chloe lingered, an uncomfortable question bubbled up within her. She hesitated, biting her lip before finally asking, “Chloe, how is Heidi? Is she… nice? She looks like she is.”

Chloe paused on the other end, considering her words carefully. “She is nice,” she admitted softly. “She’s kind and sweet, and she seems like a good person.”

The girl swallowed hard, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “I figured as much,” she said, her voice tinged with a quiet resignation. “At the beginning, I wanted to tear her apart, you know? I wanted to pick out every flaw she had, convince myself she wasn’t good enough. But I couldn’t do that… because she just looks so nice and kind. It’s almost like it made everything worse, knowing that I couldn’t even hate her.”

Chloe sighed, understanding the conflict in her friend’s heart. “It’s natural to feel that way, to want to protect yourself by finding reasons to dislike her. But you’re also showing so much strength by acknowledging that she’s not the enemy. It’s okay to feel conflicted.”

The girl nodded, though her throat tightened. “I just wish it didn’t hurt so much, Chloe. I wish I could be happy for him, for them. But it’s hard when it feels like I’ve been discarded, replaced by someone who seems perfect in every way.”

“Listen,” Chloe said, her voice firm yet gentle, “you’re human, and it’s okay to feel hurt and conflicted. But don’t let those feelings define you. You’re more than what he made you feel, and you deserve someone who will see all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between”

“I know,” she whispered, though the knowledge didn’t make the pain any easier to bear. “It’s just hard to accept sometimes.”

“It is,” Chloe agreed. “But you’ll get there. One step at a time. And remember, just because she’s nice doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t valid. You’re allowed to grieve what you’ve lost, even if it’s complicated.”

—

Slowly, the depression began to give way to a semblance of acceptance—or something that resembled it. It wasn’t forgiveness, nor was it forgetting, but a grudging acknowledgment that clinging to the pain and anger would only prolong her agony.

She continued to write, but the tone of her lyrics shifted. They were still tinged with sadness and loss, but there was also a hint of desperation and sometimes hope.

We broke up a month ago

Your friends are mine, you know, I know

You've moved on, found someone new

One more girl who brings out the better in you.

[...]

And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?

An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean

Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me?

And now I'm pickin' her apart

Like cuttin' her down will make you miss my wretched heart

But she's beautiful, she looks kind

She probably gives you butterflies.

[...]

I hope you're happy

I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.

Acceptance came in small, painful increments. It was in the quiet moments when Baby Iza’s tiny hand rested on her cheek, or when Vitto and Andrew’s unwavering support reminded her that she was not alone. It was in the act of writing itself, where she could pour out her heart and begin to untangle the threads of grief and loss.

As she sat on the grass, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows around her, she realized that while Daniel’s betrayal had broken her, it had not destroyed her. She would rebuild herself, piece by piece, word by word, until she was whole again. Despite everything, she was still standing.

Through the anger, the depression, and the acceptance, she learned that she had the strength to endure. The scars from this heartbreak would always be there, but they would also be a testament to her resilience and her capacity to heal. And in those moments of writing, she knew she would emerge from this experience stronger, wiser, and ready to embrace whatever the future held.

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redux-iterum · 7 months ago

Text

Salute to a Brief, Precious Companion

I just came home from the vet. If you missed the notice on Friday, Rocky has been euthanized due to failing health. I'm a little bit of a mess right now, so apologies if this post isn't coherent or it's overly-emotional. I just feel I should pay my respects and tell you all Rocky's story. Be prepared. This is a long one.

This was Rocky. Nicknames included Wocky, Rocky-Pocky, Rockadocious, and Little Man. He was an incredibly sweet and incredibly skinny critter who somehow even Jupiter outsized. I only had him for 7 or 8 months, but what lovely months they were.

Rocky came to me from a horrible situation - someone who is technically part of the family (and do I dearly wish they weren't) is one of the worst pet owners I've ever seen in my life, and he regrettably had Rocky for over 10 years. That is, 10 years trapped in a single room with a connected bathroom where his rarely-cleaned litterbox (singular, shared with multiple cats) was located. He didn't have anything: no comfort, no entertainment, pellets that could barely pass for cat food, and no attention. This was supposedly to save him from a dog that had a habit of killing every small animal it came across, but once that dog died, as did Rocky's companions, he still wasn't allowed out of that room because the idiot didn't want cat fur all over his furniture. Mind you, his dishes in the pantries had dust all over them, if that tells you how he lives his life.

Anyway, a relative of his called me and begged me to take Rocky, being unable to stand his solitude and wails for affection any time she went to that house. I wasn't looking for another cat at the time, but I agreed, on the condition that the former owner pay for the initial vet visits and whatever treatments were needed. Rocky was very visibly unwell when I saw him - underweight, crooked-backed and smelling of sickness. I never had a high opinion of his owner in the first place, but as time went on and I saw the effects of Rocky's ailments and the consequences of him never seeing a vet in those 10 years... well. If murder was legal.

Rocky's first 2 weeks in my house were disastrous. He attacked Moses, Jupiter and Moonshine any time he saw them, had no idea that he wasn't allowed to just pee wherever he wanted, and was frightened and confused by toys. It took several months for him to understand the concept of batting a ball around for fun, and he never did fully get that sleeping on a soft pile of blankets is much nicer than a hard table. I was extremely close to seeking out another home for him, certain that this wasn't going to work and I had just ruined the energy of the house for my other poor cats.

But somehow, Rocky turned around! He realized the other cats weren't a threat to him (all three of them are excellent at handling tense situations with fellow felines, and they never struck back or hissed at him during his rampage), and started seeking them out for companionship. Of course, it had been a few years since he'd seen another living cat, and he'd kind of ruined his initial impression on them with his poor behavior, so it took a while for them to fully relax around him. He and Jupiter very quickly were forced to become friends as both of them wanted on my lap at all times and weren't willing to give up their seat to each other. They eventually sought each other out and would sleep together even without me being there.

Rocky practiced being friendly on Jupiter, including grooming him. Amusingly, Rocky didn't quite remember how to groom another cat, so he ended up licking the fur the wrong way and getting Jupiter all slobbery, like a dog had licked his head. Jupiter never minded, purring along and letting Rocky do his thing.

Moonshine was more hesitant to let Rocky sit on her or curl up by her, but Moonshine's never held a grudge in her life and conceded towards the latter third of our time with him.

Moses...

Well, y'all know Moses. He was just as grumpy with this other old man as he is with everyone else. Though interestingly, over this weekend, he was unusually kind to Rocky, and actively laid down next to him and let Rocky touch him.

In fact, everyone was extra nice this weekend. I suspect they knew something was up from my energy and mood. They were sticking close to me as well.

As Rocky got more comfortable in the house, he really showed his personality. He followed me around everywhere, couldn't force out a loud meow if his life depended on it, wanted on my lap at all times (making up for a decade of loneliness, I guess), and demonstrated a sweetness and cheerfulness that couldn't be beat. He was, by far, the best at taking medicine that I have ever experienced with a pet. He would swallow his pills with no struggle and allowed me to give him shots of vitamins without so much as a twitch. It's extra-impressive for how long he went without those things. Really, his only fault was that he would have accidents around the house - everything else about him was wonderful.

I knew he was a hospice case when I took him in. He was sick and old; he wasn't long for this world, whatever I did. I still feel like I failed him for only giving him half a year of a comfortable, happy life compared to the decade of misery he experienced. Everyone tells me that it's quality over quantity, and that he got to live a wonderful last bit, and I should be proud of that. I hear them. But my friends can attest that I've spent the last two weeks kicking a tantrum about how unfair it is that he didn't get more time with me. I won't pretend I'm the very best pet owner in the whole wide world, but god knows I'm at least better than his previous owner, and I provided everything I had, whatever it costed. I felt like I owed Rocky at least a year of joy and love, and he didn't even get that. It's not fair. It's just not fair.

It's amazing how attached you can get to an animal you know will die soon.

Rocky's ashes will be coming to me in a couple weeks. He'll join the rest of my pets on my desk, and that way he'll stay with me. I'm grateful that he got to fall asleep in my arms and that his pain and weakness is over. Wherever he is, he's comfortable.

I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you, Rocky. You deserved the world.

#real talk #readmore #pets #i speak

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py-dreamer · 2 years ago

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Long hair Macaque, my beloved-

No but srsly, one of my favourite designs is just long hair mac and in this au Mammy's figure is just mostly hair.

I was trying to recreate this screenshot:

Obviously there's some difference like I tend to draw a bit chibi (big heads) and I didn't want to make Mac's hair THAT voluminous-

I wanted to achieve sort of a gypsy vibe with these little skrimblos

AND THEN I FOUND THESE:

And I could NOT pass it up.

So yeah...

Oh! And I also gave the sparkly drip to their ears

(Sh!t I just realised, I forgot the shadow creatures... I'll see if I can add them in later)

I COULDN'T for the life of me figure out the hundred yard stare to match with Mac's sharp eyes (how I draw him) and not make it look goofy so I made them spoopy and glowing instead

I sadly don't have much to say about Bai He here since her black hair didn't leave that much room for shading in a darkened environment (I'm so sorry) And this piece was to show off Mac's design more anyway (I promise Bai He will get her spotlight)

(Also Bai He, nor Mk nor Macaque wears shoes. Wukong is the only one in the family who does and I find that funny)

But oh! The hair? Here comes the fun part

(No his hair isn't purple, I just used purple to shade here)

You see I WAS going to use black hair for this photo but i soon realised how much of a pain it was just to shade it (cause i couldn't) and I was just WISHING I could use his white fur instead

And then I realised....

The white fur could be his winter coat.

Some animal's shed their fur in the winter (I think some rabbits do) and grow a new coat, occasionally with a different colour.

Therefore I could make the white fur the winter coat and during the story, his fur could be black to show how much time has passed since Bai He last saw her Baba...

Mwuahahahahahhahahahaha I'm so evil

(I was very proud of myself)

(Also I know macaques don't grow winter coats but just let me have this one ok?)

And why doesn't Bai He have white fur as well then? Well maybe she's just a different kind of monkey or perhaps it's just an age thing.

Funnily enough, when I showed this to my friend, she said he looked heavenly which is funny cause. As much as I love him, Macaque is a smug bastard and he knows it.

Like I know a lot of it was due to trauma BUT STILL

I just personally dislike how the fandom sometimes makes him seem like he could do no wrong and he is "uwu delicate babygirl that needs to be protected at all costs" when this boi is fockin FERAL man.

So despite taking a bit of a back seat in the main plot for this au, Macaque is still a smug bastard behind the scenes as much as he is a good dad

(Gosh sorry for the rant, I just had that pent up for a while now and needed to get it off my chest)

I wanted to post this yesterday on Friday 13th but oh well,

I hope I achieved the mysterious spoopy vibes as the original lol

(Click photo for less sh!tty quality)

(Also pls reblog, as much as I really appreciate feedback in general, I really like this piece and want to show it to more people...)

Gosh we are on a roll with this Shadowalkers au huh?

#art #lmk #my beloved #pog champ #py's_art #lego monkie kid #lmk au #liu er mihou #lmk bai he #lmk macaque #lmk six eared macaque #Shadowalkers au #monkey bai he #bai he will steal your kneecaps #macaque is bai he's dad #dad macaque #wolfwalkers #wolfwalkers au

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bainshiewrites · 7 months ago

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[LF Friends, Will Travel] Why it hurts

Date: 65 PST (Post Stasis Time).

Bartholomule sat at the desk, his stubby little paws working diligently towards the task of putting together the screws and springs of his design together. The single desk lamp illuminated the otherwise dark room, highlighting his face; the cream coloured fur that covered his entire body being punctuated by two large black eyes and a little tongue sticking out of a mouth in concentration. His floppy ears bounced around his head, his entire 4ft tall body moving up and down as if listening to a silent tune while Bartholomule put the final touches on the mechanical duck he was putting together.

The fact that he required a booster seat in order to use the desk correctly finished the overall picture. Bartholomule was a Hatil, and by Terran standards "Fucking adorable".

The large room was punctuated by two other lights at which had their own respective Terrans sat separately, a Rosa and Tim, both fiddling with their own creations. Everyone else had long gone home, but the three were still working on their projects as the end of the working week, each of them invested enough into their creations that leaving them unfinished would annoy them for the next 4 days until Monday rolled around again.

It was strange work in these times: nowadays you could spin up, design, and have a prototype printed off in less then a hour using AI and computers; but that wasn't how the Zonka Joy Corporation worked. They believed that the little imperfections from a biological mind gave a toy something else, something special, and their commercial success suggested they might be onto something.

A noise blared out amongst the silence, a short simple signified the completion of Rosa's creation. This was followed by a sigh of success and the sound of her putting away her tools and getting up to leave for the week, a satisfied smile on her face.

"And that's me done! All of you have a good weekend, and I'll see you on Monday!".

This attracted Bartholomule's attention, causing him to momentarily look up from his work and give the Terran a big smile of his own.

"Before you go Rosa, a few of us are going to the Toymaster convention on Friday. I was supposed to ask if you wanted to come with us, it should be fun!"

As Rosa turned to look at the Hatil, the smile on her face instantly faded into a harsh grimace, eyes staring coldly back at Bartholomule, as if she was instantly reminded of something terrible. The moment lasted for far longer than it should have, the Terran almost staring right past the little Hatil for 30 seconds, sucking the energy out of the room in an instant.

"No. I'm Good, I'll see you on Monday."

Rosa left abruptly without any further action, almost seeming to flee the interaction as fast as she could without actually running, body language now stiff and defensive. The human left behind an awkward feeling in the near empty workshop, a confused and now frowning Bartholomule watching as Rosa left.

The Hatil had arrived on Earth 6 months ago, partly to take his current job, mostly in order to experience new and exciting things. He was very happy during his time on the birthplace of the Terrans, even though there were only a handful of other Hatil on the planet because of... reasons.

Still, he enjoyed his time around Terrans, and Earth was exciting. Dangerous, yes, but exciting. While most Terrans were friendly, this kind of reaction from some people kept happening, this weird... coldness. Bartholomule paused for a moment, wondering whether to say anything before turning to the last remaining person in the room.

"Tim. Have I offended Rosa in some way?"

A pause, a special kind of silence caused when someone really doesn't want to answer a question, Tim giving an providing Bartholomule more space to keep talking.

"Because this has happened a few times, I was wondering if there was a misunderstanding of Terran culture, I don't want to cause distress".

A very distinct sigh came from Tim as he very slowly and purposefully put down the tools and toy train he was working on, taking before looking up with a grimace before speaking softly in a gruff voice.

"Look, don't tell anyone I said anything, but you do need to know as you’ve asked this before. The answer is long and complicated, but the short answer is it's because you're a Hatil, and that brings up bad memories. Not everyone has gotten over the hurt of what happened."

There was a cold wave of dismay that ran through Bartholomule as he knew exactly what Tim was talking about. The war of shame, the eternal guilt that every Hatil was taught about as a pup. The Hatil - Terran war, a stupid act of his stupid ancestors.

"But that was over sixty years ago, there's no way either of you were around back then?"

Tim gave a little shrug in response.

"Most Terrans you see were still alive back then. Our regenerative technology is top notch, I'm over 300 but don't look a day over thirty. Plus with what happened before right before the war and... what do you know about Terrans?".

Bartholomule thought for a moment. He knew they were generally tough, that they were the original founders of the Terran Alliance. He knew they were the only species to create a successful AI that didn't try to kill everyone, and were known for their above average stamina.

Oh, and they had the single biggest pack bonding drive in the known universe: The information guide on Terrans provided by his government when Bartholomule had moved to Earth had stated never to give any "Machine, Food dispenser, wild animal, brick, pebble, leaf, twig, paper or piece of lint" a name in front of a Terran, lest they pack bond with it and emotional harm is caused.

But Bartholomule guessed Tim wasn't talking about any of that.

"I know you're all technically over a ten thousand years old, as a disease forced Terrans into stasis. That's why you're a relatively new addition to the Galaxy, after a cure was found by your AI sixty five years ago."

"That's the child friendly version. The fact is the god plague was brutal. The thing altered DNA at an exponential rate, so basically a week after catching it you were nothing but a ball of tumours. Outside of stupid temperatures destroying the thing was near impossible, could survive the vacuum of space and it spread by both air and water. A single microbe of that shit entered your planet and you were frankly fucked."

There was a moment as Tim took a second to pause, a pained look on his face as old memories were brought up

The total death rate was around 50%, but that wasn't spread out equally. The first few planets infected with the plague had little under a week to realise there was no cure and to start freezing everyone. There were the riots, the destructive attempts at quarantine, fighting over stasis chambers, just bad all around. That's without getting into the 25% AI death rate."

The obvious confusion on Bartholomule's face was obvious. How could a virus kill an AI? And what did this have to do with people’s reactions to him?

"We only knew this after unfreezing, but for ten thousand years humans were basically an extinct race, the only Terrans alive were the AI and uplifts we had left behind. Not all of our friends could handle that... a lot of us awoke from stasis to find friends he had left behind were no more. But you know the real kicker?"

Tim gave a small sad laugh as he continued to explain

"The only reason it happened was because we didn't know that you guys existed. Our entire sector of space is empty of life, so we assumed that there was nothing out there. The god plague was originally an experiment to create new life that got out of hand. Waking up to realise the entire reason for all that pain and death was faulty, that if we'd just gone another 50 light years down the road none of it would have happened... that hurt, that hurt a lot."

The Terran gave a deep sigh before continuing.

"But when we realised there was life out there, it might have been a bittersweet realisation, but it was still sweet. Ever the optimists we reached out to our closest neighbours, the Hatil, and then..."

"We declared war."

The war of shame. A faulty war of aggression waged sixty years ago based on two incorrect and immoral ideas: That any race using AI was a threat to the galaxy that needed to be destroyed, and that any civilization that had spent the last ten thousand years in stasis would be technologically primitive.

The latter being the most incorrect, after the initial assault on two Terran Colonies and destroying the Terran's initial diplomatic envoy, the Terrans had turned around and dominated Hatil army, ending with their largest colony being planet cracked.

It was why even though the Hatil considered themselves close allies with their now Terran friends, to the extent that Terran culture tended to dominate, the Hatil tended not to visit Earth that often: A deep cultural guilt that just thinking about wracked Bartholomule body with shame.

"Well not you personally, but yes. As an extra pile of pain the Hatil possibly are the worst species to fight. No offence, but you basically look like a golden retriever, a teddy bear and a baby seal were all squished together. You're adorable. There's a reason we had that 'No touching coworkers' seminar after you joined."

This wasn't anything new to Bartholomule, the toy based on his likeness was one of the biggest sellers if the royalty payments were anything to go by. He'd gotten used to being randomly hugged by random Terran children, the young apes often being peeled off him by very embarrassed and apologetic parents. He wasn't yet used to drunk Terran adults often doing the same...

"You tie all that together, and it was a perfect psychological kickin. It was like learning that Sesame street exists after much searching and sacrifice, but Elmo personally thinks you're a terrible person and wants to kill you. It's why we went too far and planet cracked your colony."

Now that was news for Bartholomule, the idea that the destruction of Tavairis was somehow immoral. As a cub he'd been taught that considering it was a war of aggression from their side, they were lucky the Terrans were merciful enough to accept surrender and stop there. The concept that Terrans might regret such an action was interesting.

"Unfortunately it means for a lot of people, they see you and it reminds them of the plague, the war after, the loneliness and hurt. They should remain cordial, and I'll give anyone who isn't a good speaking too and maybe more, but they aren't going to want to be your friend either."

Silence weighed down on the room for a while, the weight of what had been said hanging in the air, nothing more than the slight hum of two lamps buzzing in the darkened office, before Bartholomule finally broke the silence.

"So why aren't you the same?".

A smile spread across the features of Tim's face.

"I know it isn't your fault what happened. Some of us heal faster than others and some of us had an easier time of it. My job during the war was R&D. I made designs for weapons that never got built once we realised just how far ahead we were. Rosa, she was infantry. Remember what I said about how the Hatil looks in terms of adorableness? That messed a lot of people up real good."

"Still isn't fair though".

"No it isn't and I'll have a talk with her. Just keep in mind that while time heals all wounds, when it wants to the universe can really pile on the hurt."

#creative writing #haso #hfy #humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #lffriendswilltravel #pack bonding #short story #writing

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