#He's just a bunch of leafs yet he looks so fluffy-

[doppel-doodles]

Little bit of Leshy fanart to help me pratice light and just because I think he's neat:>

[colossal-red]

Small Radish, Big Fox Chapter One: A Close Call

WC:1100 Words. 

TW: Minor Cursing, Fear. (Idk how to do warnings :/ )

5-up didn’t know what had possessed him to do this, he had simply been watching the living room of the Fox hybrid from the vent, when he had seen the guy eating more of those long wiggly pale yellow sticks. While he didn’t know what they were, the Fox seemed to like them, so he figured he would too.

After stepping down from the grate on top of the dusty bookshelf, 5-up searched for a way to get down easily. settling on using one of the leaves he had snatched from outside, the radish hybrid waited for the Fox to leave the room again.

He waited and waited, for what felt like HOURS. Seriously, how could these Giants just sit still in a room watching a glowing box for this long? 5-up had no clue. But finally, the big Fox left the room and 5-up hear the slam of a door. Now all he had to do was glide to the couch. No big deal.

“Ok 5-up, you’ve got this.” Taking a running leap he held onto that damn leaf like his life depended on it. Which it did. You’d think after doing this many times in previous homes of Humans and Hybrids he’d be less scared by now, but no, every time was terrifying. He ended up breathing out in a sigh of relief with a breath he didn’t even know he was holding once he landed.

The “couch” as the Fox called it was fairly squishy making it a bit hard to walk on, but the Radish hybrid managed to make their way over to the “Ramen Noodles” container, as the container said it was called. The Radish hybrid hastily hoisted himself up into the rim and was thankful to see that one of the noodles was in reach. Leaning down he dragged one up and out of the container and bunched it up to put inside his pouch.

That was when he heard the door open, and the booming footsteps coming from down the hall. Needless to say, this situation wasn’t ideal in the slightest. It took all the concentration 5-up had to not freeze in place out of terror. He only really had three options, hide in the cushions, where he’d probably get crushed, stay there and hope the Fox would have mercy on him (which didn’t seem likely), or jump down onto the carpeted floor and go under the couch. He ended up choosing option three and sprained his ankle on the way down. “Sh*t.” He whispered dragging himself under the couch and staying as still as he could under there as he heard the Giant enter the room.

“Don’t worry Wil, MCC will go good, even with Jack on the team.” The Fox boomed into the rectangle he was holding to his head, 5-up ended up covering his ears to avoid going deaf, he had never been this close to a Hybrid or a human before. “Ok Wil, I‘ll join the practice in one hour.” The hybrid finished before tapping the screen with a claw. “Alright, time to watch some Treasure planet.” The Fox finished before sitting on the couch causing a creak and a bulge to form on the underside where 5-up was.

5-up had absolutely no idea what to do, he had no idea how long this guy was going to be here watching “Treasure Planet”, what was he going to do? He watched as The Fox swept his bushy tail onto the ground, 5-up wished he could touch it, it looked so soft and fluffy. But he wasn’t insane yet. So he waited for however long it took for the Fox to leave the room.

After an actual hour of waiting this time The Fox turned off the “TV” and left through the other door in the room that he disappeared into for hours at a time. Waiting for a few minutes to see if they would come back, 5-up finally dragged himself over to the kitchen, where he knew there was a grate close to the floor.

Once he had climbed inside and navigated his way back to the hole in the tunnels to get to his base, he sighed in relief and got to tending his ankle which, thankfully, wasn’t that injured. After all of this, 5-up was very exhausted and thought that he should try the noodle he had taken from the Fox.

It was definitely not worth it, the noodle was fairly bland and was slimy once he had bitten off a piece of it, but on the bright side, at least it was actually warm.

The next day he decided he should try to find something to use as a bed since leaves aren’t that comfortable. Repairing his hook would also be perfect, if he had it he’d be able to get to high-up places much quicker. But before any of that he’d have to find some more food, as he isn’t sure how much longer he can stomach the noodle, especially after it got cold. He had heard whilst eavesdropping on Fundy, whose name he had learned while also eavesdropping, that he would be going out for a bit.

5-up then glided down to the countertop from a high-up grate and trekked across the flat surface in hopes of finding some food in the cupboard. For a fox, Fundy was not very observant, which made it laughably easy to steal bread and something called “Sour Patch Kids”, which initially scared 5-up terribly until he realized they were these weird vaguely human-shaped sour blobs. He snuck into the cupboard and took some chunks off of the already torn apart part of the loaf, and some juicy liquid from a box, he was also able to use some of the twine from the bread container to finally repair his hook. Satisfied with his findings, he used his newly repaired hook to get up to the grate again and slipped away back home.

Fundy had a very confusing last week, he had just barely noticed that some of his bread had been chipped off and that his bag of Sour Patch Kids had been a bit lighter than it should’ve been. He also thought he smelled some radish when he had watched Treasure planet yesterday. He hoped that whatever rodent had stumbled into his house would be caught by these glue traps he was getting, if he was going to start growing sweet berries soon, he didn’t want some creature to eat them. He wondered what creature he will end up finding once it got caught...

[necros-writing-stuff]

Okay here me out. We got cat tf Bailey so how about big guard dog tf Eden?

You have no idea how much I love this. I've made a few posts, but can't fucking find them.

Let's take a leaf out of the cat Bailey posts and have Eden turn into a dog (through magical means), before he meets kidnaps you. I see him as a Caucasian Shepherd, big and fluffy.

He can't stay in the forest, he's vulnerable to the wolves now without his gun. So, reluctantly, he heads into town to scrounge for food - where he meets you for the first time. A bunch of kids are harassing him, trying to pull on his tail even as he growls and snaps his jaws, and you push them aside. Pulling your bag off your shoulder, you pull out a box. He can smell the fresh food inside, and sure enough, you present him a sandwich. You're pretty, kind, and possibly have more food, so he follows you when you leave.

To the goddamn orphanage. Great, he's back here, then. But you quietly lead him upstairs and into your room, being thankful that it's too early in the morning for the others to be up. You were coming home from the strip club, afterall. Eden has never been so thankful to be in a bed in his whole life after a few nights in a cardboard box, especially when you tell him to bunch over and join him. If he were a man, he'd have fucked you when you changed into your sleep-clothes, but as it is, he just enjoys the show. Enjoys your hand stroking his fur as you drift off to sleep.

You'll sneak him out when you can, to do his business and to go for runs in the park. He perks up hearing Bailey yell at the other orphans, happy that his old friend is in good health. Until one day, whether from a kiss on the nose or the curse simply having run it's course, he transforms back to himself while you sleep. Eden of course sneaks to Bailey's office - butt naked, with fluffy ears and a tail - confusing the shit out of the caretaker before asking for some clothes. Bailey gives him what he can, considering Eden is a few sizes bigger because of his height and bulkiness. And then Eden asks to buy you. Whatever price anyone has put down, he'll beat it. And Bailey allows it, for once.

He's delighted when you finally miss your payment.

Alternatively - it happening after you've just been let off the leash at Eden's.

He goes out hunting, and doesn't come back. But this huge dog does. You're unaware that Eden is missing when you take the dog in, telling him you hope you can convince your husband to keep him because he's such a cute boy!

You dote on him, feeding him fresh meat that shouldn't make his mouth water like it does. Brush his fur out for him, give him water. He doesn't let you put on a collar, though, even when you whine that you'll match! It leads to you chasing the big fluff-ball around the cabin while giggling, and he loves how it sounds. He hasn't heard you laugh like that yet.

As the night goes on, you remark how scared you are that Eden isn't back. You just started to love him, and now he's left you? It doesn't seem fair. Eden lays his heavy head in your lap and licks at your hands in comfort. He hasn't left you, he's right here, but you don't know that.

The days drag on, you spend most of them looking longingly at the treeline, feeding your dog and keeping the cabin and clearing in good shape. But Eden can sense your sadness - smell it actually. He'll lean against your body with his, in hopes that the physical contact will cheer you up. On the third night, you tell him that you're thankful he's been here. You don't know if you would have stayed sane without your big puppy to keep you sane. You really miss Eden, though.

He wakes up first in the morning, delighted to see his paws are back to being hands. He still had a tail and ears, but he's mostly back to normal - he can show you he didn't leave! And it's been 3 days without sex, so of course he has to wake you up by mounting you and fucking you into the mattress.

His dog traits will remain after that. He'll be able to pick up on your emotions easier. He can smell when you're aroused. His heightened senses help with hunting, too. But he only gets more possessive and aggressive during sex.

Yes, he had a knot now. It's a wonderful excuse to keep you close for long periods of time.

[babbushka]

Reunions

Clyde Logan x Reader 

3k ; Minor angst (Military past/reuniting with military buddies) it’s really very fluffy I promise

(originally posted on AO3 12/28/2018, cross-posting here for my tumblr friends)

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

Most Monday mornings found you in the front lawn, tending to the flowers you had planted there before the heat of the day set in, and this particular Monday was no exception. 

The birds were chirping brightly, your watering can was full, and the day just seemed glad to see you. Clyde was back in the small house the two of you shared, and was just waking up. 

He always slept in late after the weekends when Duck Tape was at its busiest, so you had taken up this routine as a way to be productive while letting him get some much needed rest – on days where he let you out of his python grip, that was.

A bonus to being outside early was you got to greet the neighbors and various people passing by your property. People walking their dogs or taking their kids to the nearby school all got a friendly greeting from you as you tended your garden, and the mailman was no exception. You usually had a small token of appreciation for him on Mondays, as a way to start the week off nicely.

“Good morning ma’am! Only a couple letters for y’all today.” The mailman said as he pulled up in his truck outside your house.

You brushed your hands off on your gardening pants and took the small stack from him with a smile. You knew you were the last house on his route, he had told you as much one morning a few months ago, and so you didn’t worry about the fresh loaf of homemade bread getting squished or damaged in his care. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with butcher’s twine like it was every week, with a small paper tag on it that you wrote down this week’s flavor – roasted garlic and rosemary.

“Thank you Patrick, here’s something nice for you and Shelley. Have a good day!” You handed him the loaf and he didn’t hesitate to take in a big sniff, the garlic was pretty strong but he grinned like it was Christmas morning.

“You’re always so kind (Y/N), thank ya! It smells delicious, you have a good one.” He gave you a small wave before driving down the block.

Heading back towards the house, you started leafing through the letters. One was the cable and internet bill, another was a weekly newsletter of the local community that you had subscribed to, but the third was addressed to Clyde specifically.

It was small and rectangular, and a little dinged up, but it looked like it had traveled a long way to get to Clyde. His name and address was inked in blue pen that had gotten a little smudged, and you could only wonder how many times it had gotten delivered to the wrong place before it finally arrived to your humble home.

“Clyde honey, something came in the mail for you today.” You said as you walked through the door. Your boyfriend was fully awake and munching on some frosted flakes at the kitchen table, reading through a new book he picked up at the library.

“Just put it in the pile, I’ll sort through it later.” Clyde responded sweetly, making you giggle.

“It’s not a bill, someone sent you a personal letter.” You leaned over the table and gave him a morning breath kiss, placing the letter on the table next to his book. “Return address is from Utah, do you know anyone from there?”

You had thought all of Clyde’s family was here in West Virginia. Well, now with Jimmy across state line that might no longer be true, but still you had never heard your man talk about anyone from all the way across the country.

“Can you get me a butter knife?” Clyde asked, his voice gone quiet as he stared at the letter.  

“Sure thing honey.” You said with a slight frown, grabbing one from the drawer and handing it to him.

Clyde didn’t respond, using the butter knife as a makeshift letter opener to tear through the envelope carefully. Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded into thirds, and was completely covered in more blue ink. From your angle you couldn’t make out the writing exactly, but Clyde’s reaction to it was more concerning to you than the contents.

“Is everything okay? You look a little pale.” You asked, sitting down next to him and hugging yourself close to his arm, the scarred one. He hadn’t yet put on his prosthetic since he had just woken up, but you didn’t mind in the least. You liked that he trusted you enough to be comfortable around you.

“I’m okay.” He said with a deep breath, folding the letter back down and tucking it under his book.

You didn’t want to press the issue, so you just gave him a kiss and moved to the cabinet to get a bowl so you could have some breakfast with him and spend the rest of the morning together.

The next day, Clyde came home early from work and surprised you with takeout from your favorite Chinese restaurant for dinner. You had been watching TV, waiting for him to come home, and at the sound of the front door unlocking you were already running across the house to jump into his arms and cover his face with kisses.

“Honey you’re home!” You grinned, laughing as he lifted you and spun you around.

“Yup, I felt like spending the evening with my favorite lady.” He smiled back at you, giving you one long kiss before releasing his hold on you.

You giggled, still dizzy from the spinning, and took the heavy takeout bag from him. He followed you into the living room where you laid out the spread of containers, and you caught him fidgeting with the buckle on his belt – a nervous habit of his that you picked up on pretty early on.

“(Y/N)?” Clyde said, and you frowned slightly at the apprehension in his voice. “I was wonderin’…if you wouldn’t mind accompanyin’ me to a function this weekend.” He finished, and you were relieved that you didn’t have to prepare for dreadful news.

“You know I’ll always join you wherever you want me to.” You said, sitting on the couch and inviting him to his favorite spot: his head in your lap. “Is this about your friend from Utah? Are they going to be in town?” You asked, thinking about the letter.

“Yup. It ain’t just Tony either, it’s…” Clyde trailed off with a sigh, and your chest tightened for him. You knew there were a lot of things in Clyde’s past that you didn’t really know about, because he had had such a hard time living through them. The last thing you wanted to do was to make him deal with something he wasn’t ready for.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s hard Clyde.” You said, stroking your fingers through his thick and luscious hair.

“I want to tell ya because it’s hard.” Clyde said, sitting up and taking your hand. He took a deep breath and looked you in the eye, something he was trying to be better at when he was nervous. “I know I don’t talk about it a lot, especially with me losin’ m’ arm and all, but I made some good pals overseas in the special forces. Some of them are having a bar-be-cue, a reunion of sorts, and I’ve been invited to go.”

He looked at you almost like he was afraid you’d say no, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face, and he felt a little more relaxed.

“Do we need to bring anything? I can whip up my famous mac n’ cheese.” You said, wanting him to know that you accepted every single part of him and his history.

“You don’t mind bein’ around a whole bunch of tough military types for the day?” Clyde asked, sounding slightly incredulous.

“If they mean a lot to you, they mean a lot to me.” You said, leaning in for a kiss.

Clyde’s heart soared, grinning against your lips as he kissed you back. He hadn’t spoken to his army buddies in a long time, at least since he had gotten a phone – otherwise he would have given them his number to call instead of having Tony send him a letter as the only way to reach him. He was nervous showing you more of that side of him, the side that had gotten injured and all the baggage that came along with it, but you had always been supportive and understanding, willing to listen and to help him through all the other bad parts of his life, he should have known you would be there for him during this too.

For the whole week leading up to the BBQ Clyde was nervous with excited energy. He had done a fashion show for you of different outfits he might wear, wanting your opinion on how he should wear his shirts. Should he shave? Should he cover his arm? Hat, or no hat?

You were patient and glad to help, giving your honest thoughts, like he should wear his shirts how he always does; tucked into his trousers and buttoned all the way up. No he shouldn’t shave, he looks handsome with the scruff he’s got, and no hat, it’ll get too hot.

You were an angel, and Clyde kept telling you that on the three hour drive up to Pittsburg, where Emmanuel lived and was hosting this whole thing. Before you two got out of the car, he gave your hand a firm squeeze, and you simply brought it to your lips and kissed the knuckles with a warm smile.

“Clyde Logan, you gentle giant how are ya?” A stocky man emerged from the front of the house when Clyde’s car beeped locked.

“I’m doing alright Emmanuel, it’s good ta see ya, you’re lookin’ pretty fit.” Clyde said, his demeanor immediately lightening up as he was crushed in a bear hug. The man, Emmanuel, ducked his head in a mock shy manner, before flexing and showing off his muscles.

“Thanks buddy! I’ve been spending a lot of time at the gym; they say swimming helps the back.” He shrugged, and Clyde just laughed. It was the first time he had laughed at something other than a corny joke you had made, and it made you grin.

“Clyde you never told us you had a smokin’ hot girlfriend!” Another man stepped out onto the front lawn, he was taller than Emmanuel, but not as tall as Clyde. You were pretty sure Clyde was always going to be the tallest man in the room, even among these guys.

“Shut up Mick,” Clyde teased without any real malice.

“Come on out back and come meet everyone!” Mick said, and the two of you followed him and Emmanuel through the house to the backyard, where it looked like a picture perfect scene out of a movie.

All the guys who were able rushed over to Clyde, and you couldn’t help but get emotional at how they all pulled him into a hug. It was clear to you that they hadn’t been together in a long time, and it warmed your heart to see them still caring about your man.

He managed to push through their wall of affection, and held out a hand for you, which you happily took.

“Everyone, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Mick and his wife Kayla, Tony and his wife Anna, Ozzie, Emmanuel, and Reuben.” Clyde introduced you, and you shook hands with everyone, leaning over to give them kisses on the cheek like you had known these people your whole life.

“It’s so nice to meet everyone.” You said truthfully.

“I bet Clyde’s told you nothin’ about us!” Ozzie laughed, giving a playful elbow to Clyde’s side. “He still the strong silent type we knew back in the day?” He asked with a grin.

“I’m afraid you’re right. But I wouldn’t have him any other way.” You said, making Clyde blush scarlet. He kissed your cheek and the whole group of men wolf whistled, but you didn’t mind, you liked showing off how in love you were with this handsome man. “I brought mac n’ cheese, I hope that was alright.” You suddenly remembered the huge tinfoil covered tray you were holding.

“Damn Clyde, she’s gorgeous and brings food? You got yourself a keeper.” Tony winked, making Clyde wrap his good arm instinctively around your waist.

“You keep your hands to yourself now Tony.” Clyde warned, but he still had that smile on his face.

You stuck by Clyde’s side the entire night. You didn’t say much, but you didn’t have to. It was the men’s night to reconnect with one another after all these years away. Clyde wasn’t the only one to have gotten injured in the roadside mine that took his arm; it took Reuben’s right leg, and had caused Tony to go deaf in his left ear, and partially blind. None of them paid any attention to anyone’s prosthetics, unless it was to comment on how nice Clyde’s arm looked, with how high tech it was.

As the day progressed and more beers were consumed, they started to reminisce about the days when they were together overseas, each one having a different version of the same story. You couldn’t help but laugh at how Clyde seemed to be the mediator whenever two men bickered over minor details in a story, he had always been the calm and collected one in the group, that much was easy to tell.

Emmanuel brought out his tripod and camera, and they set up a timer to take a couple big group photos right when the light was golden, and you offered to take some photos of just the men. Tony had taken the camera from you afterwards, and told you to go stand over by Clyde, and he snapped a couple pictures of the two of you, grinning at one another like the love sick fools you were.

Everyone talked about what they were up to in life. Mick and Kayla were starting to try and have a baby, Emmanuel was the regional manager for a real estate firm in the area, Ozzie and Reuben were both working on memoirs of their time in the war, and Tony had just gotten married to Anna not five weeks earlier.

Clyde was very humble about his life with you, only saying that he was the owner of a bar back home, and that he spent every minute there or with you. You felt like the luckiest lady in the world with the way he smiled down at you, all you could do was sing Clyde’s praises and tell them about the wonderful things he does for the folks back home.

With the evening came s’mores and the passing around of old photo albums. You couldn’t help but snuggle close to Clyde on Emmanuel’s couch as you tried to get a good luck at a young Clyde with nearly shaven hair and a boy’s face. It struck you then just how young all these guys had been, but how young Clyde was in particular. He looked like he joined right out of high school. Clyde’s grip on your hand tightened as they flipped through the pages, some a little older, one in particular of Clyde showing off the tattoo he had on his forearm. You simply put your other hand on top of his, and squeezed back, silently letting him know you were there for him.

Not so long after that came the somber goodbyes, seeing as you and Clyde had three whole hours to drive back home. It was bittersweet, no one knew when they would all have time to coordinate like this again.

“I’m real glad you came.” Tony said, as he held out his hand for a goodbye shake.

“I’m glad y’all invited me.” Clyde said shyly.

“Are you kiddin’? I went through hell tryin’ to find out where to mail that letter! You’re not an easy man to find Clyde Logan.” Tony laughed, deep and scratchy, like he had been smoking a pack a day since the war.

Clyde released your hand for the first time all evening, to pull out a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Here’s my phone number, I want you to give it to all the guys. In case y’all ever want to call or something.” Clyde said, addressing the whole small party.

As Clyde started to say his goodbyes to the folks he had missed, you went around the room and hugged everyone goodbye yourself. As you pulled away from Mick he discreetly slipped the photo of a young Clyde Logan into your hand.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to him,” Mick started with a hushed voice, “But you’ve lit a fire in him like I’ve never seen before. I’m glad he has you.” He said.

“I’m glad to have him.” You said back, with a heartfelt smile, as you hugged him again.

A week or so later, the mailman brought you a small package from Utah, and some postcards from all over the country, no doubt sent by the other members of Clyde��s group. This time you happily recognized Tony’s handwriting and left it for Clyde to open, as he hadn’t come down for breakfast yet.

You had gone to work, but when you came home you noticed a few additions of décor to your kitchen; framed photographs of Clyde and his friends from the BBQ. One of the group, one of just the men that you had taken, and one of the two of you, smiling down at each other.

Clyde’s arm and tattoo was on full display, but so was the love you two had for one another, and that outshone anything else in the world.

[cheesydoesitstevie]

🎄Merry Christmas 🎄

Just something that has been living in my head.

Warnings: some angst, fairly fluffy. Mentions of sex.

Bucky and Natasha sat against the bar. The stools kept them slightly apart. They still managed to be as close together as they could be. Nat had her back leaning against the bar’s rim, her elbows propped on the edges. Her long legs were straightened out in front of her. Bucky was sideways with his outer knee bumping against Nat’s leg. His metal hand rested on his glass of whiskey while his other hand boldly rested on Nat’s thigh. They looked so relaxed and happy with each other.

You wanted them to both be happy but the bile of green envy bubbled up inside of you. It left a burning sensation in your chest and a sour taste in the back of your throat. Tony waltzed out enjoying himself a little too much the stupid santa hat on his head slid to the side bobbing everywhere. He blocked Bucky and Nat momentarily.

Tacky and over done Christmas decorations litered the entire Avenger’s compound. Tony made his way to Pepper who was adjusting some ornaments on the tree and sipping on her eggnog. Tony spun her, eggnogg sloshed over her hand as they continued to dance.

Ugh everyone had someone, you stood a lone in the doorway like a creepy stalker. Bucky had never been that comfortable and open with you in public. He generally had favored finding you alone in bed late at night after a bad dream or when he wanted to be grounded after a rough mission. A lump of spikes nestled itself in the pit of your stomach. He was in love with Nat while you had been the disposable quick fix. You knew deep down Bucky hadn’t meant to treat you like that. Still it didn’t hurt any less.

Sharon and Steve joined Tony and Pepper in dancing around the room. Sam and Clint chatted about who knows what over on the couch while Thor hadn’t shown up yet. Most likely he would arrive with Jane.

You couldn’t help but look down to see your green dress with gold bells going down the middle. It was like an ugly sweater turned into a cute tight little dress. It was festive, soft, warm and hugged your curves beautifully. You had loved the idea of wearing it tonight until you realized you had no one to wear it for.

“What a sad bunch.” Loki’s smooth voice cut through the tension of your thoughts. It startled you because he suddenly just appeared next to you.

“Typical Stark party. Don’t you know its all the rage!” You hadn’t meant to let so much disdain fall from your lips. Suddenly the chipped nail polish on your nails seemed like the safest place to look.

Loki studied your features for a moment. Your body was tense and pressed against the wall, as if you let go you would fall. You had barely even glanced at him after he initially spoke. Loki began to wonder what had your attention so coiled around it. He turned to follow your gaze was burning holes into the back of Bucky and Nat.

“Ah, troubles in paradise.” Loki spoke softly leaning against the other side of the door frame.

You looked up at him, Loki saw the sadness in your eyes. No matter how hard you worked to mask everything behind subtle features. If you over did it, Bucky or Nat would undoubtedly see through it. They were experts on reading faces and seeing into lies. At this point you either prefected each expression or they truly did not care how you felt. The latter was too much to bare so you knocked it off as having a talent for masking.

Although when you looked into Loki’s eyes there was no chance of hiding anything from him. His face was blank while his eyes held yours delving deep into the pools of them. A tingle spread through your finger tips, making your whole body shiver with anxiety. You wanted to look away, but something was so captivating about Loki’s eyes. It was rare that you got to see them like this.

Your tongue poked out to wet your lips Loki broke the stare by looking down to your slightly glossy lips. This gave you the chance to look away. It made your heart skip a beat. The feelings of jealousy was now replaced with a fluttering tornado of invisible butterflies swarming the pit of your stomach.

“There’s only one thing I like about this Midgardian holiday.” Loki spoke in a softer tone. He kept his eyes trained on you.

“What all the green?”

“No this.”

You turned to look at what he was referring to. His long slender finger pointed upwards to the door frame. A perfect placed mistletoe hung neatly just above your heads. Your eyes went wide, and your heart hammered inside your chest. Had that been there before? You didn’t think so but it was definitely there now!

You quickly lowered your head and tried to think of an escape plan. What did Loki mean by pointing that out, surely he did not want to kiss a common Midgardian girl. Loki had made it very clear he wasn’t interested in long term friendships or relationships. Perhaps he meant for you to trick Bucky into getting underneath the mistletoe. 

You swallowed nervously and tried to back up, your back connected with the frame and you jolted in place. Loki grinned at you, his finger tips brushing softly along the under curve of your lips. His fingers curled under your chin he tipped your head back as he tilted his head and leaned down. His lips were cool and soft. It was not the kiss you expected. Loki parted his lips waiting for you to allow him access. You parted your lips and he deepened the kiss.

His hands wrapped around your waist pulling you in closer to his body. He smelled of pine and fire kindling. His lips tasted like fresh mint. Not candy or gum but a crisp pure mint leaf. You lifted yourself on tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck. Loki shifted wanting to pull you up around his waist. Yet he controlled his urges. Giving a quick side glance to make sure non of the Avengers were privy to the mistletoe encouraged lip lock.

Loki was the first one to break the kiss a small mist of crystallized air left your lips causing you to quietly whimper, not wanting Loki to stop. He grinned at your greedy little eager lips waiting to have more. In that moment you realized for the first time in months that Bucky and Nat were evicted from your thoughts. All that remained was the taste of Loki and how his tongue felt dipping between your lips.

“All you need is a distraction.” He whispered his lips grazing the shell of your ear sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

Loki weaved his fingers with yours and turned making sure you were in tow as he lead you to his own quarters within the Avengers compound.

Never would you have believed Loki to be an option for a lover but tonight, even if just for one night. You wanted him to unravel you piece by piece until you forgot everything. Everything except his name.

[arigatouiris]

hushed feelings // kuroo tetsuroo x reader

Author’s Note: Alright, normally I’d write something flirty for my favorite boi Tetsu but I’ve been feeling down lately and I really craved for some Soulmate AU so here we have it. Hope ya’ll like this~

Word count: 4376

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuroo x Depressed! Reader [Soulmate AU]

Warnings: depressive themes, angst, mentions of drugs, abusive households, wow this is dark (fluffy end?)

Ever since Kuroo Tetsuro could remember walking, he had been certain that he had no soulmate. 

It wasn’t because he didn’t believe in them, or because he didn’t like the idea of them, Kuroo never really held any malice toward the idea or principle of soulmates—it’s just that unlike the rest of the population, he just couldn’t feel them. 

It is said that soulmates can feel each other’s deepest feelings—especially when it got extreme. For instance, extreme joy or sorrow, or anger or jealousy, could be instantly recognized by the other—and it is only when the soulmates touch skin-to-skin for the first time does this ‘stop’ or in other words, sync together. It was perhaps the universe’s way of saying ‘you’re not alone’ or a mockery from the universe saying, ‘you’re not alone, but you’re never going to find them’. 

However, for Kuroo, things were different. People usually start feeling their better half’s emotions by the time they’re 10 or 11 years old. Sometimes, it can take up to when a person reaches 15 or 16. Kuroo was currently 17 years old. And not once in his entire life did he feel someone else’s emotions. He wondered if the person had some kind of mental disorder where they can’t process or feel extreme emotions; he wondered if the other person could feel his own emotions—feelings of joy or anger, because he was certain that he had moments when he couldn’t contain himself. 

On most days, Kuroo felt absolutely alone—wondering if he was one of the several sad folk that’s born without a soulmate, because he was just meant to dig through the earth by himself. 

However, he wasn’t the sort to feel unhappy over something like this. At least, not externally. He’d notice when Yaku would walk into the gym feeling rather obliviously happy or when Kenma just felt lower than usual—and he’d think of how each of these people have someone waiting for them, to meet one day. On most days, he just felt anger—over everything, wondering if this entire soulmate fiasco was unfair; not allowing people to meet whoever they wanted, fall in love with no strings attached. The complications of the universe angered him, but the helplessness made it worse.

Walking into practice one evening, he noticed his team huddled over the corner—around something. There were a bunch of girls and a crying Yamamoto, standing in the distance. Kuroo blinked before walking over there, curious as to what had occurred. 

He saw you, laying there, unconscious.

     “What—” Kuroo’s face contorted into that of extreme panic, then turning to Yamamoto, he waited, “—happened?

     “I swear! I didn’t see her! It was as if she wasn’t even there! I would never spike on a girl on purpose!”

That much is true, Kuroo thought before looking at you, peacefully out of it, before sighing and picking you up. As captain, and even if this had never happened before, he had to take you to the nurse. What were you doing in the gym all alone? And why hadn’t anyone noticed you? 

Shooting Kenma a look, the dyed haired boy nodded once before ushering Yamamoto out of the way. Kuroo now focused entirely on you, and rushed to the nurse. You were breathing (and you looked like you were asleep, strange as it was). Kuroo reached the nurse’s office rather quickly, since it was after school hours. Upon taking a mere glance at you, the nurse cringed before slapping her own forehead.

Kuroo blinked. 

     “Does she come here often?” He asked, smirking.

     “You won’t believe it,” the nurse pointed to the lone bed and Kuroo followed, “It’s like she lives here.”

Kuroo chuckled before noticing you slowly waking up, wanting to sit this down and ask what you were doing in the gym in the first place. Apart from giving Yamamoto a scare for his life, Kuroo thought, unaware of the smirk sitting on his face.

     “The face you’re making is creepy, senpai.”

Kuroo blinked before noticing you, staring at him, practically emotionlessly. Smirking, Kuroo leaned forward before blinking at you, filtering the questions in his head.

     “What were you doing in the gym, kouhai-chan? Yamamoto’s never going to live down hitting you with the ball—”

     “I followed a cat, is all.” 

It was strange, Kuroo thought, of how casual your words were. It was as if you made no effort to communicate, your eyes were fixed at him and he was sure that he had your attention, but it wasn’t in any other way apart from when you’re reading a book or crossing the road. Kuroo noticed the lack of movement on your eyebrows, of how... emotionless you presented yourself as. It was honestly...

...really creepy.

     “Uh,” He had to get back to practice. “I’ll make sure that the cat is fine.”

     “I’m sorry for disrupting practice,” Kuroo paused before looking at you again, “I might not look it, but I mean it.”

You were right, you did not look like you meant it. But you were looking straight into his eyes that he couldn’t look away and his heart was screaming that you meant what you said. Shooting you a grin, Kuroo raised a thumb up to you, to which you merely just blinked—and walked out of the room.

A second later, he felt it; Kuroo paused, his eyes widening a tad bit slowly and his pace slowed accordingly. A sadness that crept into his system, almost as if it was too shy to come to him entirely. It was the sort of sadness that you knew you were going to feel eventually, but chose not to be entirely ready for its arrival. It felt as if he was out of breath at that second, feeling for the first time what his soulmate was feeling, a sadness that was scared to let him know that they were there. A hand shot to his chest, where the emotions felt concentrated most, and he stood there, confused the whole time. 

     “What the...” 

Why now after so many years? And why did it feel like it wasn’t the first time? Why did Kuroo feel like he had felt what this person was feeling for years, but had not recognized it? Why did it feel so familiar yet alien? 

You walked out of the nurse’s room and saw him there, frozen. You bit your lower lip before rushing out, trying to suppress whatever it was that you were feeling at least until you got home.

*

     “I felt my soulmate’s emotions for the first time today!” Kuroo said, grinning hopelessly before noticing Yaku roll his eyes.

     “Oh! I thought you didn’t have a soulmate?” Lev asked, genuinely surprised.

     “Shut it.” Kuroo snapped, grimly.

     “What were they feeling?” Kenma was the one to ask, knocking Kuroo out of his stupor.

     “It was the weirdest sort of sadness I’ve ever felt in my life. As if she saw a dress she couldn’t buy and was crying for it from outside the window.”

     “That actually sounds cute.” Yaku mused, blinking.

Scoffing, the scheming captain had had enough of the soulmate talk—he was certain that if he started to feel them now, then it was only about time before he got to actually feel more of what they were feeling; continuing with practice, the entire team couldn’t even tell if Kuroo was distracted, yet he was. All he could think about was how familiar it felt to have felt this person’s emotions for the first time. It was unnatural. 

While leaving, Kenma and Kuroo waved goodbye to the rest of the team. Kuroo suggested they go get something to eat first, but Kenma had other things to do—which made the taller male roll his eyes at the mere thought. 

     “Ah,” Kuroo said, his hand flying to where his heart was located, “There it is again, Kenma.”

     “There what is?”

     “That weird sadness,” Kuroo mused, “It’s like she’s calling out to me! I mean, after all these years of not feeling anything, I’ve been feeling latently sad all evening today. Maybe she just wants a hug.”

     “You don’t know who this person is, Kuroo. Give it a break.” 

Kuroo wanted to scoff at his friend but paused when he actually felt the feeling intensify. He felt nauseous suddenly, and the intense need to cry—scream, if it would help. It was as if someone was stepping on his heart and all he wanted to do was cry—he could only wonder what his soulmate was actually feeling at that second. Shaking his heart, he attempted to cover it up for there was nothing he could do but ponder over what could have caused this sudden burst of sadness, yet, there was a part of him that began to think of why now—and not before?

A moment later, Kuroo noticed you a bit ahead, and decided to speak to you to take his mind off the growing ache in his chest. Kenma wanted no part of Kuroo’s plan, so he stuck to playing his game as Kuroo rushed over and approached you. Running over to you, (who was considerably shorter when compared to his giant stature), Kuroo tapped your shoulder and had you turn around only to have his breath stuck in his throat as tears poured out of your eyes like dew drops off a fresh leaf.

     “S-Senpai?”

He paused, feeling the pain in his chest grow. Kuroo knew that he could tell with one glance, one look, one simple instant. It was your eyes. Despite the tears streaming down your face, they were still dark-rimmed, haunted, and sad. Most of all though, they were familiar. The fact that you had been a stranger up until that point changed nothing at all. He'd spent summers and winters picturing those same eyes—happy, angry, scared, lost, confused—staring back at him. He would have known them anywhere. 

     “It’s you.”

You quickly wiped your tears away and tried to bolt out of there, but Kuroo grabbed your wrist and halted you to the ground. Kenma noticed what was happening a few feet ahead but paused in his steps, seeing the stern look on his friend’s face. The girl beside him was crying, and something told him that it had a lot to do with how Kuroo had been feeling all evening.

     “I know it’s you—”

     “Let go of me, you don’t know what you’re—”

     “Hey,” 

He didn’t know why he was pleading. He had felt her existence just that day, it felt too unreal to even fight for. But, seeing her cry turned his insides around. There was something strange going on, and he really, really wanted to know what it was.

     “Why does this... Why does this feel—”

     “I don’t want any part of this, senpai. I don’t—”

Kuroo raised his eyebrows, “Wait, you don’t want a soulmate?”

You looked up at the black haired male before frowning, “No. No, I don’t want a soulmate. I’ve never wanted a soulmate! That’s why I’ve been taking these suppressants to—” 

Your eyes widened and you slapped your mouth shut. Kuroo’s grip on your arm loosened. 

     “Did you... Did you know it was me?”

You sniffed before looking away from him. Nodding once, you hoped to all hell that he would drop it.

     “How long?”

     “Why does it matter—”

     “For how long have you known, kouhai-chan?” 

You’ve never heard him speak so callously before, but he had lost the amount of patience he had within him. 

You could now feel his anger. The void in his chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed him the right to his hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt—no one, except you—who was giving it to him. You felt another burst of sorrow hit the back of your throat, but you were sure as hell not going to lose it in front of him. 

     “I...” You were afraid of doing a great many things but, “I knew since a few days.”

What you were most afraid of was lying. And here you had told the biggest lie that could potentially destroy something before it even began. With that, Kuroo let go of your hand and walked away, you were unsure if he was ignoring you or if he was hurt, but you could feel what he was feeling—and it wasn’t pleasant. You wanted to stop him and explain, but you knew that there was no point to it. Biting your lower lip, you walked home, uninterrupted. 

     “What did she say?” Kenma asked, staring at his friend’s face.

Kuroo wasn’t sullen, he was angry. And Kenma noticed it right away. Kuroo’s anger wasn’t loud, it was quiet, seething and potentially could destroy his mental health more than any other emotion. Kuroo’s anger was liquid fire, soothing to look at yet scorching hot. 

     “It’s nothing.” 

Kenma knew it wasn’t nothing, but there was no way he’d get his friend to talk about it right away. This was the sort of thing that would take time, yet he wondered what you had done that could have driven him to the edge like this. 

When you reached home, there was no one there. No one would be, your parents were always out—it was unusual if they were home. Your elder brother was in college in the States, and here you were—alone, paranoid and heartbroken. Your mother had been entirely against the idea of soulmates, calling it primitive and restricting, and while you could see her point, it was always a matter of personal interest for you. You always wondered who your soulmate was, you always wondered what it would be like to meet your significant other, someone you could reach so emotionally. 

Your mother had not met her soulmate. Your parents were not soulmates to begin with, yet there you were. A ‘happy’ family, or so you’d like to call it. Your mother had been giving you suppressants ever since you were young, so as to avoid letting your soulmate feel whatever it was that you were feeling; however, like the doctor had warned, the pills had an adverse effect on your mental wellbeing. On most days, you felt absolutely nothing. On most days, you realized that you had to carry this feeling around, pocketing it with you because normal life went on—regardless of how broken you felt. The pills were slowly eating away your mind yet because you couldn’t say a word in edgewise with your mother, you strove along, like a puppet, doing as she demands because it was the same case with your brother but he luckily got away.

At heart, you have always been a coper; or that’s what you called yourself secretly. You've mostly been able to walk around with your wounds safely hidden, and you've always stored up your deep depressive episodes for the weeks off when there was time to have an abbreviated version of a complete breakdown. But in the end, you'd be able to get up and on with it, could always do what little must be done to scratch by. 

It was not until a few months ago did things start to change. 

You’d always feel what your soulmate was feeling. Episodes of absolute elation and frustration sometimes—this person had their shit together. You felt it for the first time when you were 9 years old, a foreboding sorrow that you could relate to losing a parent or a pet; you wondered if this person lost someone special to them at such a young age, or if they were young at all—you’d never know. After that, you mostly felt hesitance and the need to feel happy again directed from them; you slowly felt this person begin to heal, and feel joy, learn how to deal with their own emotions and you wondered if they ever thought of the possibility of you somewhere.

You kept your soulmate’s emotions to yourself because they were special to you. Despite what your mother said, despite what you were asked to believe, your heart yearned for someone to hold you, tell you that it was okay, to give you space to be yourself—yet, nowadays, it felt like you were asking for too much. 

A few months ago, you saw Kuroo Tetsuroo for the first time. He was laughing at his friend in the corridor and the joy you felt was in sync with his—there was no doubt about it. He was your soulmate. 

You didn’t want to be a stalker, yet you couldn’t avoid trying to see what he was doing, trying to learn what he was like, what his hobbies were—and when you discovered that he was the captain of the Volleyball team in your school, also the best friend of one of your classmates, you were even more curious. 

You wondered if he ever felt your absence; and if he could ever feel your yearning, he wondered if it could mean anything.

That day, you were at the gym not because you followed a cat. It was simply because you wanted to see him. It was no crush, you weren’t that type of schoolgirl, you merely wanted to see what he played like—having been afraid all along to witness him in action. However, you weren’t noticed by anyone and perhaps that wasn’t a good thing at all since the ball hit you in the back of your head and sent you to the ground.

That was how you met your soulmate. And singlehandedly destroyed any prospect of being with him or learning more about him.

As days passed, you felt Kuroo’s rage and confusion—the simple minded betrayal that anyone would feel after an episode like that had occurred. You wouldn’t stop taking the supplements, and your heart was too scared to take a risk to go against what your mother had ordered you to do. Yet, feeling his emotions day in and day were was starting to exhaust you, and the growing guilt left you breathless everyday. 

You turned to the side in the corridor, bumping into someone. You always hid when trying to take the supplements, but this was unexpected. In front of you was your classmate, Kenma, who was also Kuroo’s best friend. Your eyes widened and you knew he saw the pills in your hand. 

     “Are those supplements?”

You were quiet, hands shaking, unable to say a word.

     “Why are you doing that?”

I can’t not, you thought, but you knew you couldn’t say.

     “You’re hurting him.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you nodded because you knew. You knew how much you were hurting him, you didn’t need someone to come and tell you to your face that what you were doing was wrong. 

     “I know...” You said, whispering. Kenma blinked.

     “I know I’m hurting him, but I can’t not do this.”

     “What do you mean? Of course you can. Just...” Kenma placed a hand at the back of his neck, “Just pretend that you’re taking them if someone’s making you.”

The thought of lying to your mother did cross your mind, but you weren’t sure. You were scared that she would catch you, you were scared that she would find out and punish you. You were technically scared of all the hypotheticals because the idea scared you to your very core.

     “You can’t be scared all the time,” His voice was soft, like a lullaby, “If you really want this, you should take it.”

You gasped, but biting your lip and clutching the box of pills harder. You looked at Kenma once and nodded, before walking away briskly. As you passed the dry waste bin, you threw the box of pills inside and headed to class.

*

Kuroo woke up with tears in his eyes. 

His eyes then widened before he wiped them away, scrunching his eyebrows as he tried to think of whether he had a nightmare. He instantly thought of you, because there was no other explanation. Did she forget to take her pills? He thought, but his heart was wrenching at the thought of what you were feeling right then.

Is this why you were taking the pills? Because if you didn’t, all you felt was sadness.

He headed to school with Kenma, quiet the entire way. It was very much unlike him, Kuroo wasn’t used to being so out of character. The feeling of heaviness grew in his chest, but he felt bits and of other emotions as well. Panic, anxiety, and fear—what the hell was going on with your mind? 

     “Oi, Kenma,” Kuroo called out just as they reached school. “Is she in your class?”

Kenma nodded. “Name’s (l/n) (y/n).”

What the hell are you feeling? Kuroo almost blacked out with how heavy your emotions were. 

     “Is it too much?” 

Kuroo didn’t know how to answer that question. He stayed quiet, only intended to meet with you during lunch, force you to talk—because this was driving him insane. He only wondered how the hell you were living all these years, by yourself, bottling all of this deep-rooted heaviness inside. He felt angry for not being called in on this, because even if he wasn’t sure if he could have helped, Kuroo was angry because he was not given a chance.

During lunch, he noticed you walk out of class but he didn’t give you a second to explain as he guided you up to the roof. There were others there, but Kuroo always knew to find a spot that no one else could see. 

You stared at him with wide eyes and he felt the growing anxiety bottle in your chest. He sighed.

     “(l/n)-chan,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck, “What’s going on? You didn’t take those—”

     “I stopped.”

He blinked, “How come?”

     “I... I'm living under water, senpai. Everything seems slow and far away. I know there's a world up there, a sunlit quick world where time runs like dry sand through an hourglass, but down here, where I am, air and sound and time and feeling are thick and dense,”

He didn’t understand you. You then showed him the pills and continued,

     “My parents are not soulmates. My mother started giving me these pills ever since I felt the first emotion from your end. Ever since I knew you were there, living and breathing and existing. I... If it weren’t for your friend, I...”

     “That’s why I barely felt anything from you. You were... Damn, that’s...” He didn’t know what to say.

Leaning down to your stature, Kuroo’s face was inches away from yours. You were staring at him with wide eyes, as you watched him smirk slowly, or maybe that was how he smiled—whatever it was, it was making you feel warm inside.

     “Let’s try to get better, then, yeah?”

     “What?”

He hummed before leaning back and standing straight again, “From the looks of it, you’re feeling this way because you’ve lived your whole life unable to feel at all. Come to a few of my games, my team’s gonna show you an array of colorful emotions. Pick whatever you want.” 

You didn’t know if he was joking, “Kuroo-senpai—”

     “I’m not joking, (l/n)-chan. Yeah, I get that we’re soulmates, but I want to get to know you. And to do that, we need to take this away—” He pressed your nose and chuckled, “—and get to know me while we do this.”

     “I... I don’t—”

     “And someday, we’ll be what we have to be. It’s sad about your parents, but if they’re happy, then it’s great. I won’t say what your mother did was right or wrong, but you have to decide what you want to do.”

You took a deep breath. 

     “Kuroo-san,” He looked at you, earnestly, yet there was a hint of mischief in those eyes, “Someday, we’ll run into each other again, I know it. Maybe I’ll be older and smarter and just plain better. If that happens, that’s when I’ll deserve you. But now, at this moment, you can’t hook your boat to mine, because I’m liable to sink us both.”

Kuroo gave you a soft smile before nodding. Inching forward, he kissed you squarely on the forehead and ruffled your hair. 

     “Remember, I’ll feel what you feel, (l/n)-chan!”

You smiled softly to yourself.

*

Kuroo woke up that morning, feeling nothing but pure satisfaction. A smile streaked across his lips when he thought of you—having been years since he had seen you, and noticed how well you were doing. He appreciated your strong desire to not keep in touch, and that left him wondering what you were doing and if you were still in Tokyo. Yawning, Kuroo stepped out of his house, fully intending to take out the trash that one Sunday morning.

Kuroo had texted him saying he had plans—he had met his soulmate last winter, and apparently the two of them were going to some gaming thing.

Kuroo was happy, generally speaking. Sure, he missed the touch of a person on odd days, unable to find it in him to see anyone romantically, knowing you existed. He didn’t blame you—he wished well for you, wanting to give the universe a chance to scheme something this time around. As he was putting the trash in the bin, scratching the back of his bed head, Kuroo felt a sudden jolt of... what was this feeling? The feeling you get when you’re in a rollercoaster? 

Is she in a theme park somewhere? He thought before turning around, and freezing. 

There you were, standing in front of him, in the cold winter air of Tokyo, wrapped up in a thousand sweaters. Your face was a tad bit red, and your smile was a tad bit long. Kuroo felt warmth wash over his features. Not a word. No word.

     “Kuroo-senpai—”

He rushed toward you, feeling nothing but joy. Wrapping his arms around you, Kuroo breathed into your scent. Your hair tickled his chin and he felt your hands crawl to his back. 

     “I don’t normally hug strangers,” Kuroo teased, “But I’ll make an exception for you.”

     “I’m sorry I took so long.”

He chuckled. “I barely felt the time go by—”

     “I felt your longing for me, please don’t lie, senpai.”

He definitely couldn’t wait to get to know you.

[thegreatpapersandwich]

Happy Holidays!!!

Salutations @remaining-head-spirits, I am happy to inform you that I am your Secret Santa for the @secretsantafrans @venelona event!!! The drawing will be included in a separate post, but for now, I wish to give you a little something Underfell-themed, and I really hope you like it!! (o゜▽゜)o☆

Autumn had always been Frisk’s favorite season: the copious, crisp orange and crimson leaves carpeting the ground in a golden-vermilion glow, all the soft and fluffy sweaters and socks, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla intoxicating passers-by to coffee shops and restaurants, the soft, brisk breeze of the encroaching winter...

Unfortunately, she was on a high-risk mission, and would not have time to bask in the season’s bestowal.

Especially given the fact she was embarking on this mission with Sans... The one monster that no matter how hard she tried to be kind, was absolutely and completely...

Intolerable. 

Approximately three years back, the monsters had surfaced, and Frisk, despite having saved them, had politely declined to be the Ambassador. The monsters all had rough edges, due to having lived in such a harsh environment for who-knows-how-long, and the only way Frisk had survived was through pure Determination and an open heart. Sadly, she never really got the chance to truly get to know them, despite having tried countless times, but the silver-lining was that each of them had, for a split moment, shown their true colors, and it was those moments that had given her a glimpse into who they truly were. 

Frisk had taken it upon herself to spend time and, should they accept her, dig a little deeper into the monsters she had met in hopes of calling them “friends” some day. That was until she tried to achieve such a feat with Sans. Papyrus, his brother, had been a tough nut to crack, but eventually, through the power of Italian cuisine and patience, they had bonded quite nicely, even so far as to Papyrus reaching out to her for cooking sessions and friendly chatter.

Alphys and Undyne had been quite the hard case for Frisk, given the tumultuous start of their first meeting. But again, just like with the others, Frisk not only proved herself through combat, but through her headstrong personality to give them all a chance, they deserve it, she had thought.

But Sans?

Every time Frisk so much as showed a smidgen of kindness, Sans would make sure to transform it into anger, and boy did it work. In spite of it all, she refused to give up, and time and time again, was met with animosity from this angry and self-deprecating skeleton. So much so, that Frisk truly began to question if anything would ever change for him? The others were beginning to adjust quite nicely to life in the surface, and even though he didn’t really show it much, Sans was still on edge, his guard never dropping, and his walls as high as they had been in the Underground, possibly even more so now given how humans were stronger and a threat to their existence. It was a shaky truce, but a truce nonetheless, and Frisk was only a bit relieved. Certainly not satisfied, not until monsters could be truly at peace.

Frisk high-risk mission arose when Lady Toriel had inexplicably gone missing, and Asgore had gone berserk, immediately blaming humans and threatining to declare war once again. Of course, Frisk had intervened and decided to not only be the voice of reason, but volunteered to find her and prove that humans, with all their flaws, were still worth something.

 Frisk didn’t notice then, but Sans had been staring intently at the little fiery human that was now desperately trying to prevent a war between the races, and the way her expression was pleading, but not begging, anguished, but not pitiful, Determined, but not pushy. He had always assumed she was honey-potting them, or simply marinating them before she stabbed them in the back and fed them to the wolves, yet there she had stood, fists balled-up and head held high, standing face-to-face with their king, insisting on going out to find Toriel. Sans knew humans had to have been behind all this, but stayed quiet. He felt as if a lighting bolt struck his spine when the king actually conceded and not only was willing to fund her little mission, but encouraged a monster to accompany her.

This was going to be... Interesting...

Now they walked quietly down the leaf-encrusted streets, asking for any information on Toriel they could gather, and retraced her steps before she had gone missing. There was a little flower shop near her home, where Frisk decided to do some snooping. Sans stood at the entrance, eyeing the place warily, so he decided, then and there, to conduct a little experiment,

“hey doll, I think you’d better come see this, it certainly arose some questions,” he chuckled.

Frisk rolled her eyes, fighting down a laugh with all her might, “What did you find, Sans?”

Despite him having used the evidence as a test for her reaction to his puns, there really was a clue to Toriel’s disappearance.

And it was macabre, to say the least...

“A piece of her dress... with some fur still on it. A hefty chunk at that...” Frisk could feel her eyes sting, and her stomach churn. What if she had been taken for ransom? What if someone had kidnapped the once-queen to incite more hatred between the species? And... what if she was already...

“FRISK!” Sans shouted.

She whipped her head to look at him, and just as Sans was about to call her out for spacing out, the way she was clutching at the little piece of torn cloth, her expression...

“ya spaced out fer a bit, y’need to keep it together doll, we should ask the shopkeeper some questions,” Sans mumbled, making his way to the man behind the counter.

Frisk’s eyes went wide with disbelief: had he just shown... restraint?

With no luck and empty stomachs, they headed to a little mom and pop sandwich shop a few streets down, despite much protest from Sans,

“why can’t we just hit up a fast food joint? it’d be quicker and taste better too!” he had pressed.

So much for the restraint, huh? Frisk thought tiredly, “Supporting local businesses is important, and either way it’s a lot closer to our next stop than the next burger place, but you’re more than welcome to go. I’m gonna use all the daylight to my advantage.”

Sans gave a curt and dry laugh, “y’know what? i will head over that way, see ya when i see ya.” He took the quickest shortcut she had ever seen him pull, leaving her alone and frustrated.

Frisk could guess why he was so distrustful, but she was doing everything she possibly could to prove she wasn’t a bad person, but then again, the hardest nuts to crack sometimes yielded the best flavors. Maybe.

A few hours rolled by with Frisk checking stores, hotel rooms and their records, undetected, and parks. Her only lead was the cloth from her dress and a hotel record of her having stayed there less than a day, where, upon further questioning, the receptionist had seen her with someone else, and they were apparently in a rush to someplace downtown, but didn’t catch the name or location of their destination.

So there she sat, cloth in hand, eyes welling up with cold, bitter tears that felt thick and left salt-saturated streaks along her face. Her sobs were quiet, but they rocked her body into painful little shudders. Frisk had finally achieved significant progress with Toriel, even so far as to talking about her deceased children over a cup of tea and shedding a tear or two during their conversation. Toriel had been carrying such an agonizing and heavy burden for so long, no wonder she had lost her mind, or nearly had since she seemed to have recovered well-enough to adjust. Deep down, however, Frisk knew that the grief of a parent was powerful and would never truly dissipate, that was why she was completely heart-wrenched at the thought that she was put through even more pain, and possibly suffered before-

“i don’t think yer gonna find Toriel by sitting on a bench and crying yer ass off...” Sans mused.

Great, this was just what she needed: an angry, emotionally-constipated, selfish, crude, ill-mannered skeleton to come and-

He sat next to her, and gave her something in a wrapper.

“What’s this...?” Frisk took it and turned it over in her hands.

“i didn’t mean t’spy on ya, but i take it yer not dealing with this any better than us, so just take that and let’s find a place t’crash,” Sans mumbled.

Confused, but intrigued, Frisk removed the wrapping and found a little deck of cards still neatly tucked in their little box. It had a note on it:

“Stop yer whinin’ and take yer mind off’a things. after all, you were just dealt a bad hand.”

Frisk looked up and smiled at him, “Thank you Sans, this means a lot-”

“yeah, yeah, c’mon, i scouted out a few hotels and there should be one a few blocks away, let’s get goin’” Sans practically bolted from the bench, 

Frisk looked back down at the cards and felt her smile soften, “I knew he was a good guy...”

Sans had arrived at the hotel before Frisk, but when she walked in, Sans was irate and making threats at the lady behind the counter,

“I RESERVED THAT ROOM AND YOU JUST GAVE IT AWAY TO A BUNCH OF ASSHOLES AND THEIR SNOT-NOSED BRATS!!?? I SWEAR I’LL FUCKING DRAG THEM OUTTA THERE AND BEAT-”

“SANS! I’m so sorry ma’am! What seems to be the issue?” Frisk shoved Sans away from the counter,

“Y-yes, well, a-a family came in with nowhere else to stay, so the room this... individual had taken was the last large room we had...” the lady’s voice trembled slightly.

“Oh... So there are no more rooms then...” Frisk slumped.

“No ma’am, we actually do have one room left, but...” the lady looked at Sans.

“But... what?” Frisk pressed, arcing a brow.

Sans growled, “there’s only one bed.” 

[thespiritofthoughts1234]

The warriors

              Hi, my name is Isabela! I live in a small town called Ocna’s Village in Romania. Actually, I was born in Italy, but I’ve moved to Romania without knowing why, ok when I moved, I was a baby so is pretty logic to not know lots of things on that young age…Eh, doesn’t matter, cause now I don’t wanna tell you my story, but I really want to discuss about Dimension F35A.

                F35A is a place where everything that appears to be unrealistic, impossible or even dumb on this planet it can happen there. Now you might ask yourselves: “How can a little girl know so much about an interdimensional world”, well I know because I WAS THERE. You know, a very long time ago it was known about a rock that once rubbed by someone, it could create a portal between dimensions. That rock was called then a “curly rock”, a natural object that can be modeled in any other form, in today’s world it can be recognized in bracelet form and you can purchase it at an affordable price… (I swear I don’t make advertisement) …not true, actually you get it from birth (not literally anyone can say that).

               This dimension was perfect for my imagination, but it comes out that…I couldn’t get there till I turned 7…okay, technically, even at that age I still could NOT go in that universe, so I took my mom’s bracelet -I know that I’m not a good role-model, but I was DESPERATE, I asked her each year on my birthday (to be more convincing), and guess what she told me…I’ll make a scheme to show you my agony: -3years=No.

                  -4years=No!

                  -5years=NO!

                  -6years=NOO!

                  -7years=NOOO!

                So, it turns out that I’ve woken up for 8 years (1 year was under warranty) at 6 am because I had a “noghtmare” (eh, eh, get it…anyway, I wanted to make a pun but I noticed that no one laughed…L-LET’S KEEP GOING).

                  Ok, so when I first got in, I saw… a party with ponies and rainbows, that is what you were thinking...well, YOU’RE WRONG, it was just an unending war with random characters, it means that Batman could fight Bambi or something like that. Anyway! I looked around, everything was a chaos, but I’ve noticed something weird, I realized that everyone in there was fighting for a purpose or covering themselves or conquering new territories, so I made up a purpose too…the most important one. The thing that actually matters is that someone must clean this mess, a person that must be good, brave, and WORTHY FOR SUPREME LOYALTY, a creature that will stop this disaster.

And that’s why I’m…going to find it, what did you think that I am the person, no, not even a word, I won’t get into those knuckleheads, they freak me out.

                So, I transformed myself into a mouse and tried to reach the closest spot to hide (a rock…t-there will be many rocks in this story). And exactly when I thought that I’m safe, a giant robot crushed me (obviously I didn’t die because after you are crushed, sliced, shot, burnt, etc. you get back to your home dimension). But a second before game over I saw an iconic red color being, with deep black eyes that penetrate souls, three fox tails, two fox ears and one fox nose, who wore a leaf that covered all of its body, and who appeared to be a little bit confused by the chaos behind him, but in the end, he still crossed the road, very chill, to resolve his problems. I scanned it to have it like “skin” in the future (Minecraft users in the public, or Standoff or PUBG, whatever) but what future, because that stupid stack of iron CRUSHED ME:

                  --Hmm, what if I turn in that thing? I did it. Ew, this leaf doesn’t work on me… therefore, I changed. I was wearing a blue vest, white shirt, black jeans and brown boots…BOOM, it’s betTEEEER! I was screaming because a giant iron sole was going to crush me again (I would give a reply but I don’t have one…OH, WAIT, it looks like we can’t STEP inside without being CRUSHED by hospitality, HA HA, I’m a horrible pun maker…BACK TO THE STORY). However, I’m talking about one second before the impact, I ran but not like a penguin, I ran like FLASH:

                    --WHAT THE…WOW, I am running with the speed of light (clearing throat), doesn’t matter, now let’s find that person…I will look over mountains and valleys, lakes and oceans, and I will be recognized like “The random girl who brought the hero of this world” … after I will visit this place with the super-speed thing. Now I think I went through 3 kingdoms -I despite no one saw me- And then I arrived on a land with a dense fog, without…(cough)…clEAn AiR:

                    --NO…I need…(COUGH)…to continue mY qUeSt-not too far away from me stand a humanoid silhouette…at least that’s what I thought…however, I started to scream, powerless: PLEASE…(COUGH)…YOU, THE STRANGER IN THE HORIZON …I’M VERY YOUNG…EVEN IF I APPEAR TO BE IN MIDDLE AGE FROM THE DISTANCE AND UNCLEAN AIR! I fainted waking up in a cave:

                  --(Clearing throat again)…Uh, where am I? I said after being a little dizzy.

                   Suddenly a sound came out of nowhere, like a growl:

                  --W-what? Who’s there? I asked scared. An animal came out of shadow, actually it was the same animal that I saw a few moments ago: You again! What do you want for appearing in those mysterious ways? the animal growled harder showing its big fangs: Uuuh, what BIG fangs you got there, buddy, ha, ha! Wait do I have fangs too?! What’s your name? No, no, no, how do your friends call you? I have many questions about…you…I was slowly going back, because the animal was slowly coming to me. Unfortunately, I reached the end of the cave: Understand that I mean no harm, although we are in the same species, no…I scanned you, didn’t I…I scanned you…and I transformed into you, I hope you don’t want to…EAT ME?! I said with a worried expression.

                    After the last phrase the humano-animal -partial human, partial animal- for a second it stopped, and then it came rapid, got its huge bloody red color claws out -literally anything is red on you? – Well in that moment I nodded and I said:

                      --N-nice…c-claws. Did you do your manicure?... the best pun that I could tell to a creature with an unpredictable behavior, oh and more than that,

before I didn’t know if she/he was furious or happy, because I was seeing just his/her dark eyes -even the gender is unknown-, and after that innocent joke its eyes changed a lot, they were yellow with a keen red iris. “OH MY GOD I’M SO DEAD!” I said to myself…BUT yes, of course, I can’t die in this dimension, yeah thank you for reminding me, I don’t need to worry…just if I bump into a particularly type of being…a being that can destroy anyone and anything…

                          Is known about an ancient legend that reveals some sort of creatures, warriors, who disintegrate everything that stays in their way, although it doesn’t exist in their dimension, it’s speculated that those legendary creatures are the most dangerous beings in the multiverse…who told me? ... Mama told me!... Ok I don’t know how those legends look, but I hope that the respective humano-animal wasn’t a part of those fighters -WAIT A SECOND I HAVEN’T NAMED THE GUY YET, hmmm…let’s see…Neferis…no, to Grecian…Falohe, no, to Hawaiian, hmmm…Do…Ba…Aaaa I know, Zentofea, why this name? I DON’T KNOW!

                      Back to the story: That Zentofea -Oh gosh, I love this name- came closer to me being just as predictable as unpredictable like before, but the Zeantofea…Zen-a-to-fe-a?... seeming to be more furious. I said quickly:

                      --WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME! the Zento- Agh- that humano-animal, appeared to attack me, …but no, he/she? Destroyed the boulder behind me to make clear way to the outside world…really nice gesture from a   wild animal…By the way, after that giant stone, there was a pasture full of cold crystal flowers - why didn’t they named them ice flowers-: WOW, I hope you wanted to do this for the first time, because you might just miss and… Ya’ know…

                       At first, the animal had a disapproving look, and then it smiled and leaved:                    

                       --Ok…anyway…I’M GOOD! Now I seriously need to find that person, the battlefield is getting dirty, and I don’t want to clean the mess…I made a few turns in the pasture…aaand then I got lost…Um…I think I should go in that way…or that way…or…that…way…uuuh, …HEEEELP! After the previous phrase a humano-animal came out of the forest near the pasture: DUDE, if I owe you, every time you appear, I’ll buy you a yacht. Then the animal came closer, showing itself not being a Zentofea, but a humano-animal with a body of a wolf, a more evolved wolf, with human head and some different sized crystals placed uniform on the fluffy chest -I should wear glasses.

                       It came and smelled me:

                       --Uuuh, are you some sort of dog? it has stopped from smelling for a second and showed his sharp fangs… sharper than Zentoffe-a’s ones -I’m still thinking how to pronounce it correctly-…anyway…of course I got scared: UUUH, GOOD BOY, GOOD BOY, SIT! He growled: WHAT, DID I OFFENDED YOU IN SOME WAY?!SAY! LOOK I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND WHAT YOU ARE, BUT TO KNOW THAT TODAY IS MY FIRST DAY IN HERE, AND ALL THE ANIMALS ALREADY HATE ME!

                        --Get out of our territory, Zentofea!

                       --Ooooh, so it’s pronounced Zentofe-e-a, ok I noted AND HEY, HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT NAME, and did you say “OUR territory”!? after that phrase, a bunch of more humano-animals came out of the forest. Ya’ know, don’t ya’ think you have to many friends? They were slowly approaching me, I know, you think that I could’ve escaped, but the answer is NO, I couldn’t escape because I was surrounded, and I also know I could have jumped, but those animals seemed to have springs instead of legs, really now, I think they evolved from kangaroos…Siberian kangaroos. Many of those animals had an white with a little of black fur, WE C-CONTINUE: So I was there surrounded by those oversized human-headed dumb dogs, I was helpless, TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII- increase the suspense-IIIIIIIIIIIILLL … nothing happened, I’m kidding, I figure it out that:” BUT WAIT I HAVE SECRET WEAPONS TOO!”. I tried to annoy myself to get my claws out, first time it didn’t work, and then I thought about the most annoying thing for me, not even this worked because I love all the things unless the things that I hate, so I went to Karate, Judo, and putting my fingers in other one’s eyes:

                       --OUCH, WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!

                        --That’s how I know!

                        Even with my MASTER moves, I still couldn’t stop those hundreds of humano-wolves - hmm, surprising- until one bit my tail. In that moment I was angry- I took out the sharp fangs, yellow eyes with small pupil and iris, big claws, now I don’t boast myself, but I took down at least 20 wolves, ok I boast myself a little bit. Doesn’t matter because everything happened in my MIND, after that guy who I put my fingers in his eyes, another one threw a stump in my head.

                         I woke up tied up of a plank, carried by 4 human-wolves -I’ll name them later- to the chief of the tribe. They put me in a cage, still tied, with fire under the cage, very chill. The chief said:

                         --Oh, divine spirit of the frozen forest we give you this offering in exchange of a great dinner.

                         --An offering for a great dinner? Do you know that you can hunt? I mean you’re half wolves after all!

                         --GASP, who would’ve done such a shameful deed!? They looked offended.            

                        --Says the guy who is making an offering to a horse!

                         --It’s a majestic wolf!

                         --Riiight, you really aren’t good at sculpture!

                         --Oh, yes, we are, everyone is criticizing us, and why aren’t you worried, you’ll be burnt, are you a player?

                         --OF COURSE, I AM -a brilliant idea just crossed my mind- n-not…of course I am NOT a player, because I’m a destroyer undercover!

                         A sound of surprise came from tribe:

                          --Wait a second why did you smell like a Zentofea?

                          --Well, it’s a special thing that none of you heard about, it’s called perfume!

                          --Oh!

                          --A-and if you don’t untie me, I’ll destroy you ALL!

                          --But if you’re a destroyer and you can destroy us, why didn’t you destroy the rope and the cage already?

                          --Uh- OH, yeah…uh, thanks…I forgot I can… DO… that -I was pretending to concentrate to destroy the cage, but as an amazing coincidence, a thing came out of nowhere and cut the iron box and saved me…still tied up…but free…i-in a way. Uuuuh, yeah, I telepathically sent a message to a recruit to save me, good job soldier! I caressed his head, good part he was fluffy, bad part he pulled out a laser gun from his pocket and pointed it to my forehead, he had 2 guns, the other one was pointed at the public -how dangerous can be a creature with 3 feet high:

                           --Run! Said The Short One, that’s how I call him, with a deep voice.

                           --I would’ve run already, if I haven’t my legs TIED UP!

                           --A Zentofea has stronger muscle power in lower limbs!

                           --…Yes…

                           --…That means that you can rip the string that ties your legs!

                           --Ooooh! I ripped the strings and I ran… after a few seconds I stopped and I returned to The Short One.

                           --WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING, I TOLD YOU TO RUN!

                           --I won’t let you down!

                           --I’ve been here more than you so I learned a lot in my time!

                           --Ok, I trust you on this, but can I do somethin’?

                            --Yes, try to survive!

                            --…I hope I can do that!

                            Well, it appears that The Short One had a plan to escape from that situation, I don’t know how, but The Short One shot with the laser gun in a cold crystal (ice), bounced off another two cold crystals (two pieces of ice), and then to the base of a tree, that rip causing a chain reaction, putting down tree by tree, the last tree falling in front of the angry crowd:

                           --WOOOOW!

                           --COME ON, I CREATED A DIVERSION!

                           --But, wait, how did you know that tree was going to fall in front of them? I have said while I was running with The Short One.

                           --D-do you really want to know?

                           --Uh, yes?

                           --Really, no one has asked me about this for a decade!

                           --Uh, about what?

                           --Science stuff…oh my God…I’m…so…excited…(clears throat) ok I’ll tell you…GASP, first time I calculated the area between the laser gun and the target, and then I’ve calculated the variables- he continued talking until I realized that we both have stop from running.

                           --Uh, dude ya know…an entire squad of human-wolves with six packs is like…following us!

                           --…And then I measured…

                           --…Uh, maaan?

                           --…But the distance was equal with…

                           --I beg you to stop!

                           --…So, I created a way to…

                           --Sigh, who am I kidding? I took him by the arm and jumped in a tree.

                           --…Although if I would’ve taken the theory…

                           --CAN YOU KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT…please? I put my hand to his mouth and I pointed to the tribe that passed us.

                             --Oh, yeah, I-I’m sorry!

                             --Look, man, I understand your excitement, I think you’re a little lonely here by your independent character, but can ya wait until we get rid of this dorks?        

                             --Yeah, I know, and by the way I’m a girl!

                             --You are a girl, but how do you have such a deep voice? SHE took her mask off!

                             --It’s a changing voice device, dear!  

                             --Oh. My. Goodness. YOU ARE SO CUTE! I think she was the cutest specie of humano-animal that I’ve ever met in my life. I hugged her… SHE WAS FLUFFY!

                             --Look, that’s why I’m always wearing a mask…ok, this and other 3 reasons!

                             --Daaww, why, like someone would really attack you?

                             --Yes, many would attack me, players, qualified and unqualified hunters, maybe…MY OWN ENEMIES!?

                             --Aaww, but wait, you have enemies?

                             --Yes!

                             --Why?

                             --Because of my high intelligence!

                             --Really, well, that means that you have common enemies with many of your species.

                             --Meh, not really, I’m a very rare case, usually creatures in my species are…

                             --Let me guess, dumb, goofy, jerks, but with no reason?  

                             --I wanted to say idiots, but your description is much more extensive.

                             --I know how it feels, I mean a lot of people from my species are like that!

                             --Zentofea?

                             --No, humans…but I have one question, how does everybody know about this name? I named that creature!

                             --Uh, no, it has been named like that since forever!    

                             --How?...

                             --Look, stop asking useless questions and care about your purpose!

                             --My purpose…OH YEAH, MY PURPOSE, I FORGOT ABOUT IT!

                             --How can you forget your own objective?

                             --My PURPOSE…is that an ocean? I’d said while I was exiting the forest.

                             --Yes, the terrestrial space from this planet is predominant in isles and archipelagos!

                             --DAMN IT, how am I going to cross the ocean now?

                             --But why do you want to cross it? Do you need to cover a territory?

                             --No…

                             --Do you want to conquer a territory?

                             --…No…

                             --Then why do you want to cross the ocean?

                             --I want to change the world!

                             --Wait, you want to change the world…alone?

                             --Nope, that’s why I’m looking for a person to help me!

                             --Wow, really…wow, you’re the first person who said that! Hey, HEY, what are you doing? I took off my boots, I rolled up my jeans and I tried to run above the water, for 3 seconds I really have run above the water, and then I began to sink. I swam back to the beach.

                              --So, do you wanna tell me…where…the heck…were you thinking?

                              --I thought that I could run on water.

                              --Kiddo, if in your dimension exists some force who keep things together, however are you calling…

                              --Gravity…

                              --I knew about that name, I’m a genius, I just wanted to clarify that you know what I’m talking about…What I wanted to say, is that, the respective force exists in this universe too, but it acts with a different attraction.

                              --Aha, so what other idea do you have?

                              --Hmmm, first, you still didn’t answer the previous question!

                              --Well, I think the person might be after the ocean!

                            --Do you think that this motivation is certain, I mean isn’t assuming an attempt to know something that can be inexistent, do you really think, in this life anything can have a scope, don’t you think that life is an illusion meant to prepare us of everything what can be beyond the bars of reality?

                              I remained without words:

                              --I made this up 10 seconds ago, what’s so hard to understand?

                              --No, no…I-I understood!

                              --Then why are you doing this!

                              --Um, I don’t know…I think I just needed an adventure!

                              --Then why did you choose to change this world?

                              --I don’t kn-…YOU KNOW WHAT, leave me alone with those weird questions, you’ll provoke me an existential crisis!

                              --Ok!

                              --I just wanted to know How. Can. I. Cross. THE DAMN OCEAN?  

                              --Stay chill kid, I’ve got this! She took out a thing from her pocket and she blew in it, then a 45 feet animal came out of water and it wasn’t a blue whale. A little help from a seahorse!

                               --You can’t put the words “seahorse” and “little” referring to that thing!

                               --Oh, yes, I can. Player, say hi to Rudolf!

                               --RUDOLF? WHAT ARE YOU…SANTA…THE BARBARIAN!?

                               --Not really. Rudolf, say hello to the player! He said hello…i-in his language.

                               --Yep, I’m clearly going to make a raAAF- the monster picked me and sank into the water!

                               --Bye, bye, bon voyage through the ocean!

                               The monster took me to a temple under the water. In temple:

                                --COUGH…when I said to cross the ocean I DIDN’T MEAN UNDER WATER! All the torches in the room blew up.

                                --Greetings, my dear child! Said an old lady when she appeared from nowhere in front of my face.

                                --HOLY SHAMALAMA…sigh…ma’am I think you have the wrong person!

                                --No, no, that’s how I tell to the visitors!

                                --Ooo, so, you have tourists…riiight!

                                --No, every new player comes to me for the closet! She showed me like a Chinese closet -I made a redundancy, everything is made in China.

                                 --Closet, do you have problems with the furniture?

                                 --No, they get in it!

                                 --So…you kidnap kids... I’m calling the police!

                                 --No, you didn’t understand, it will be worth, plus is no police station in the middle of the ocean!

                                 --You’re the creepiest person I’ve ever met in my life!

                                 --Many people say that! Now, come on, it doesn’t bite!

                                 --At least I got rid of a fear! I got in the closet, immediately after I got in, I remained unconscious and I woke up in another world.

                                 I’ve heard a girly voice:

                                 --WARM WELCOME TO THE DIMENSION OF THOUGHTS! Said a grey colored skin girl with black clothes and amber colored eyes. And I’m the Spirit of Thoughts!

                                 --AAAAA!

                                 --Hmm, I thought that a Zentofea wouldn’t fear of literally everyone who says hello!

                                 --How did you know about that…AND MORE IMPORTANT, HOW DOES EVERYBODY KNOWS ABOUT THAT NAME!?

                                 --Well, first, I know what every player thinks, and second, I know about that name because I put it!

                                 --But ho-

                                 --How do I know that? Well, the answer is in the name, MY NAME, DUH!

                                 --And how did I-

                                 --And how did you name it? Ho ho, well, that’s simple kid, it’s because all of those subliminal messages that I left around the place!

                                 --If-

                                 --If I control the thoughts, why didn’t I end the war, yet? …It’s because that war shouldn’t end, it’ll declare the true leader of this world, like you said it must be a good, brave, and worthy person to clean this mess.

                                --An-

                                --And that means-

                                --Oh, will you please let me talk?

                                --Ok, go ahead!

                                --…And that means I’ll have to fight to make a little difference?

                                --Kid, I think that you will change the whole world, trust me, I don’t say this to any other player…but you have to fight for that, although it’s like the real life!

                                --Yeah…it is!

                                --…So, are you ready for your first match?

                                --Y-yes…yes, I do! Let the game begins.

[twisted-nox-sidus]

I was in the mood for fluff.

Headcanon AU prompt: Child!Strix suddenly warps to TW! As the dorm leaders argue who would be the first to take her in for the time being, she selects the dorm leader on a whim and grows attached. Saddled as babysitters by Crowley, how do the dorms take care of her? 

Note: I had made a post of Child!Strix before. Keep in mind that she’s mute at this age and relies on actions than words to communicate.

Heartslabyul

Baby Strix fled to the safety of Riddle’s long cape and curled up inside despite his protests. She was in a cocoon by then.

The card boys almost dread the worst when Riddle came back cradling a sleepy little girl wrapped snugly in his cape like a blanket. The sight was so tender, they were nearly convinced it was someone pranking them.

Riddle was confident to show Strix a wonderful time at Heartslabyul. On the same day he had Trey bake his delicious cakes and treat her to his favorite strawberry tarts soon after.

The boys take turns carrying her. They almost die of diabetes whenever Strix gives nuzzles on their cheeks and hugs around their necks. So precious! She’s an angel! Deuce actually cried (manly tears mind you) once. Ace was never gonna let it up.

The Heartslabyul gang are just one big family. Trey and Cater are the parents, the first-year trio are their chaotic kids, and Riddle is the exasperated eldest son who tries to keep the whole family in line.

Strix plays dress-up with Cater and he does her hairstyles. It’s clear he totally dotes on her the most as he has an older sister. Having a little sister like Strix is delightful!

“Can we adopt her? Please?” “Cater, the headmaster already signed the custody papers.” “Really?!”

Ace and Deuce alternate carrying Strix as she paints roses red. They also make up quicker when Strix is around so they don’t make her sad.

The hedgehogs and flamingos are quite attached to Strix. They were practically surrounding her. Cater had abused the camera roll by then. He can’t bring himself to delete a single pic! But his memory storage is near reduced to tears...

Bonus: Che’nya randomly popped in during their tea party sweeping Strix off her chair and adoring this cutie patootie. Strix’s shock subsides when she noticed the pierced pointy cat ears and pets them while Che’nya carried her on his shoulders. He even only made his head visible so he’d give the others a spook when he came back while Strix is too focused on his kitty ears to realize it. It was so surreal, let me tell you.

Savanaclaw

Strix approached Leona and looked up with sparkling blue eyes. Fluffy kitty ears are nice! Not scary!

Leona groaned. He himself doesn’t want to take in a kid -especially a girl- back to Savanaclaw. She makes easy prey the moment she steps in. He has a weak spot for children, too.

To Leona’s bewilderment, the girl climbs on him like a tree until she sat on his shoulders and touched his cat ears. She nuzzled her face in his mess of hair and smiled, pleased.

And so, Leona returned to the dorm with a baby owl perched on his head. When she was asleep he dumped the job onto Ruggie. He should get paid for this, damn it. He didn’t sign up for babysitting!

Strix’s attention would wander to Leona’s flicking tail. She would try to catch it and run around Leona’s legs to try to get a feel, or pounce on the bed if he’s sleeping, however it would slip out of her tiny reach. She seems to have fun, though. She behaves like a cub sometimes, it’s really adorable.

Strix would do her best to help Ruggie clean Leona’s room. If only the dorm leader would follow her example...

Baby Strix growling stomach is like a mouse squeaking. Ruggie didn’t think a child’s stomach could make such cute noise.

Jack is saddled with a kid while Ruggie and Leona take care of their own duties. Where is the instruction manual for this?

Strix would fall asleep on Jack’s tail that substitutes for a pillow. Or his fluffy head, one way or the other. It’s easy to watch over a kid when they’re asleep almost 24/7. When she is awake, she would climb on him like he’s a jungle gym.

One time when he gave her an awkward pat on the head, she firmly held his hand in place and she. Freaking. Nuzzled into his palm. Nuzzled her nose to it with a cute smile and blush.

Jack only had Strix for five minutes, but if anyone harms her he will kill everyone in the area and then himself. It’s that meme :D

Every time they go out, the boys would firmly place their hands over her ears to block any foul language Savanaclaw has to offer. They also make it clear to other fellow students to keep their paws off her. Her innocence must be protected.

Octavinelle

Similar to Riddle, Strix went to hide under Azul’s draped coat. Azul then eagerly agreed to take her in. There’s profit to having an adorable guppie at Mostro Lounge, is what everyone called him out on. Azul doesn’t deny it.

Floyd definitely carries Strix by the shoulders. At first it was all fun and games, with how tall being on him was... Until he sporadically pretended to almost drop Strix that she clung to Jade’s secure arms while trembling like a leaf. For once, Jade had a justified reason to smack his brother on the arm without rousing sibling hostility. Floyd got depressed by the flick of a switch.

Strix’s eyes always wanders to the view of the underwater scenery. Her face was glued to the window in Mostro Lounge for how beautiful and breathtaking the sights were. Once, she lied on the floor in the glass corridor admiring the fishies that swim by. She never got tired of it for hours.

Floyd took the opportunity to join her on the floor in hopes of making up to her. Child Strix is a gentle soul to have forgiven him, and the two spent time just relaxing together until Jade and Azul came to pick them up (of course it was weird for two people to be on the floor). Strix was asleep by then.

Strix got curious about the grand piano. Azul played a few tunes before inviting her to join him. She pressed a few random keys that were out of tune, of course, but Strix was excited regardless. The glint of intent interest to explore the practice made him chuckle.

He teaches her the basics. He also encouraged her that her hands are perfect for the piano, which is no lie, and that she would become a wonderful pianist if she continued practicing, much to her delight.

Baby Strix would doze to sleep as Azul played relaxing music, all curled up while her head was atop his lap. What a pure soul this one is.

Scarabia

“Kalim put Strix down!!”

Jamil has another -literal- child to babysit. At least Strix is well-behaved unlike Kalim. Why can’t he take a page from her book?

Kalim has plenty of siblings. His brotherly love rubbed off Strix and made her open up to him more quickly than others.

Kalim bought every kind of ribbon that looks good on Strix. Too bad practically everything is adorable on her.

Jamil really doesn’t mind feeding another mouth. He’s whipped up feasts that feed hundreds of guests for Kalim’s banquets and parties, especially at the last minute. What’s two people to sweat about?* Magic carpet rides are exhilarating for Strix. They were like the baby roller coasters she rode on, but this must be the grownup’s version.

Pomefiore

Strix admires Vil’s dorm outfit between her fingers. The interior red design has fancy apple designs.* Vil boasts how even a toddler recognizes his beauty to compare to other students who fail to see it through their thick skulls.

Like Cater, Vil dresses her in outfits deemed complimentary to Strix and her stunning blue eyes. Strix didn’t mind since Vil was having fun.

Strix is amazed by Epel’s apple craftsmanship. It’d be a shame to eat them, she feels. After being reassured he’ll make more again, she never leaves a crafted apple to rot.

Strix finds Rook’s mannerisms and French confusing, but that’s okay. She’s a child that doesn’t know better. Though she has a feeling she’d still find him elusive even as a grownup.

Ignihyde

Like a kitten, Strix is all-too curious about Idia’s long blue flaming hair and paws at the tips. He had to bunch his hair into a ponytail during her stay.

Idia has his little brother Ortho. Surely he can handle Strix. “Those are two separate things!” He’d exclaim. Too bad that doesn’t prevent him from being a babysitter right off the bat.

Ortho is excited. Now he’s in the shoes of a big brother. He hopes Strix will be an incentive for Idia to come out of his room.

Strix liked how warm and comfy Idia’s jacket (his “school uniform”) looks. She slipped inside while Idia was taking a shut-eye from the monitor and zipped up the zipper before snuggling closer to his warm body heat. It’s like hugging a heater.

Idia woke up to a fright. What if he crushed her under his weight?! That’d be dangerous!

He looks down to see the content smile on her lips. With a sheepish huff he plopped his head back on the pillow. Another five minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Diasomnia

To every dorm leader’s surprise and fear, including Diasomnia’s himself, baby Strix fled to Malleus’ side. His intimidating aura should have warded her away, yet when Strix looks up from the folds of his cape with pure and honest blue eyes, there was no fear. Even as a toddler she knows no fear of one of the most powerful magicians in the world.

Strix dislikes thunder, and thus is scared of Sebek and his lightning bolt for hair. She would flee behind Silver’s leg and stay away from Sebek as much as possible.

Sebek had to befriend her through an owl marshmallow pillow (after listening to Lilia’s advice). Watching her squeeze the pillow made many shed tears from the sweetness. You could practically see flowers and soft light surround the two.

Sometimes they would walk in the lounge to see Strix dozing in the sleeping Silver’s protective arms wrapped around her securely. Like two peas in a pod.

Lilia is amused whenever he looks behind to see Strix lifting his oversized Diasomnia uniform as much as possible from the floor. She follows him like a duckling because of that.

Once, Malleus got depressed for not being invited to an event. Strix tugged on his pant leg and he picks her up. Then she pats his head before giving him a hug in consolation. How sweet, though he realized how the roles have switched; he’s the child, and Strix is much mature for her age.

The day after that Strix would pull him over to where everyone sat before a pretend tea party set. If Malleus had the shame to cry he would have done so. Ugly sobbing, amirite?

Malleus may not admit it out loud, but he’s happy. At least someone knows to remember to invite him. The fact it’s a human child says a lot.

[bethagain]

I wasn’t actually planning on this, but somehow I’ve been sucked into @drawlight‘s Good Omens advent calendar fic challenge. I was watching all the mistletoe fics go by, and while the many first-kiss fics are fluffy and lovely, my genfic-loving self couldn’t resist putting a different spin on things. No kisses here, but things do get a little schmoopy by the end. Also on AO3.

----

The Dose Makes the Poison

Warlock was a month shy of two years old and walking with more confidence every day. Nanny Ashtoreth, walking beside him on the way to the garden, had to bend a bit to hold his hand. The brim of her black sun hat tilted down toward the tiny child toddling at her knee.

They were on their way to the orchard, because entertaining a two year old indoors all day is boring. Also because Crowley fancied an apple. He’d always been intrigued by the variety of the things, by all the different combinations of tart and sweet. For something that was supposed to be forbidden to humans, God sure did spend a lot of energy coming up with different versions. Something to tempt just about everyone.

Or maybe She’d simply lost track of them. Crowley had long suspected that the evolution thing had been set into motion and then left to run wild. After all, you had to have a sense of humor to invent the elephant. There was that whole “man plans and God laughs” thing, but privately Crowley wasn’t sure She was actually all that funny.

He also thought it was a bit ridiculous that this one house should have such a huge garden and several dozen apple trees, all for exactly three people. (Eleven people, if you counted the staff. Not that the Dowlings ever did.) Whose fault that was, he had no idea. Maybe it was just a human thing. Same way some people got to own a Ferrari and some people took the bus.

The apple trees were old, gnarled, and heavy with red fruit. Here and there, a bunch of bright green mistletoe interrupted the shape of a branch, whitish berries standing out against shiny leaves.

Brother Francis, the gardener, was halfway up the nearest tree, feet planted on the middle rung of a ladder and a pair of pruning shears in his hands. 

The angel’s smile was so bright, Crowley wondered what he could possibly be looking at.

“Well, that’s adorable.” Aziraphale waved to Warlock, who stared up at him, mouth open and a bit of drool on his chin. “Holding Nanny’s hand, are you?”

Crowley’s lip curled into a growl. “Don’t have a choice,” he groused back. “He’ll wander off otherwise. Faceplant into a rosebush. Fall down the well.”

“Babies do take some watching,” Aziraphale agreed.

The baby, otherwise known (or so they thought) as the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness, pulled free of Crowley’s hand, lost his balance, and sat down in the grass with a soft thump. He patted the ground with his little palms, found a stray apple leaf, and put it in his mouth.

“Were you wanting a break?” Aziraphale offered. “I can watch him for a while.”

“You just want to teach him good things.”

“Of course I do.”

“Go on then.” Crowley patted Warlock on the head, and the toddler looked up at him with a gummy smile. “I’m getting an apple,” he said to Aziraphale. “You want one?”

Aziraphale crouched down beside Warlock, looking at him earnestly. “Shall we have an apple?” 

Warlock burbled at him. 

“Yes?” He called after Crowley, “Yes, we’ll have two.”

“Kid barely even has teeth yet,” Crowley grumbled, but he took a few moments to wander among the trees, looking for the brightest, best-looking apples. They all looked good, in fact, plump and shiny among healthy green leaves, in spite of the equally lush mistletoe living its parasitic life on the branches.

He wandered back a few minutes later, three perfect apples in his hands. He gave one to Aziraphale, set one in the grass in front of Warlock, and took a bite of the third. It had a nice crunch. Not too sweet, these ones. An appealing sourness in the background.

He used the hand holding the apple to point toward the trees. “You should trim that away,” he told Aziraphale. “The mistletoe. It’s a parasite. Sucks the life right out of them.”

Aziraphale swallowed his own bite of apple. “I suppose I should, but it’s so pretty. And it doesn’t seem to be harming anything.”

Crowley knew that guilty tone. “We’re not supposed to be calling attention to ourselves, Angel.”

Aziraphale shifted his posture. Looked away. Took another bite of apple.

“Angel.”

“Oh all right. Fine. No more miracles. I’ll trim it tomorrow.”

Crowley stretched out on the grass, long legs crossed at the ankles below the demure knee-length skirt. Aziraphale leaned back on his elbows. Between them, Warlock gummed at his apple, tiny front teeth making little furrows through its bright red peel.

“Humans have a thing with mistletoe, don’t they?” Aziraphale said, after a while.

“They do,” Crowley said. 

“A sort of romantic thing, isn’t it?”

“Something like that.” Crowley, in fact, knew all about it, because he was the one who had invented it. 

-----

300 years earlier

In a windowless room in one of the middle levels of Hell, a dozen demons sat around a conference table. Its scratched surface was littered with coffee mugs. The mugs were chipped and the coffee was cold. Crowley had made the mistake of adding creamer to his. Clumps of beige powder now floated on top, refusing to dissolve. 

Up above their heads, through layers of stone, earth, and spiritual darkness, horse-drawn carriages rattled along the streets of eighteenth century London. It was late December, the time of year when days were short, weather was cold, and tempers were easily frayed. 

At least Crowley’s chair still had both its arms. That didn’t quite make up, though, for the fact that the adjustable height didn’t adjust anymore. Crowley’s head was six inches lower than it ought to be. To his left, Ligur was six inches taller than he ought to be. On Crowley’s right, a demon whose name he’d never bothered to learn was trying to balance on a seat that was no longer properly attached to its base. 

Beelzebub, Prince of Hell, lounged in the cushy executive chair at the table’s head. Their chair was at the exact right height. Their coffee cup steamed. 

Ligur’s demonic possessions of a dozen housewives had earned a round of applause. Merihem, who had tempted a cook to poison an entire banquet hall, had gotten a nod of approval. 

Crowley was the last to give his report. He sat straighter, trying to make up for the missing six inches. He’d done some good demonic activity this season, really he had. If a few of them were trades with Aziraphale, this crew didn’t need to know. Frame it right, and he’d get credit for tempting a father to go out for tobacco one night and never return. Never mind that the man was an abusive bastard.

He got full points, too, for leading a man into bigamy, against the marriage vows he’d made before God and man in London’s finest cathedral. If all three of them are now living together on a farm in northern Scotland, it’s nobody’s business but theirs. That one wasn’t even part of the Arrangement, it was just Crowley thumbing his nose at Her stupid rules--and breathing a sigh of relief when he got away with it.

He did have one thing he thought they’d genuinely get a kick out of. He thought it was particularly demonic. Right up their alley. “I invented a new Christmas thing.”

Beelzebub took a sip of coffee and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Go on, demon Crowley.”

Crowley reached into a jacket pocket and drew out a sprig of mistletoe. He had to stifle a giggle.  He was really, legitimately proud of this one. “They think it’s a symbol of love!”

He looked around the table, waiting for the response. 

Everyone stared back at him.

“They hang it above their doorways. If two humans stand under it, they have to kiss.”

Beelzebub tilted their head, set down their coffee. “Sszzzoo?”

“So, they think it’s romantic,” Crowley said, a little desperately.

Blank looks.

“It’s poisonous!” He shook the sprig of mistletoe at them. A few berries came loose and bounced their way across the table. “The berries make you sick to your stomach. If you make a tea out of the leaves, you’ll be nauseated. It makes your vision go blurry. Butterflies in your stomach, weak in the knees… Get it?”

They didn’t get it.

He couldn’t help grinning, even then. They’d get it when he told them. “It’s all the symptoms of unrequited love!”

Ligur leaned across Crowley to the demon on his other side, hissed, “I don’t get it.”

“And how,” said Beelzebub, “does that get us new soulszz?”

Crowley set the sprig of mistletoe down on the table. He smoothed the leaves, brushed a finger across the remaining berries. It didn’t. That wasn’t the point. The point was, it was funny. 

Wasn’t it?

-----

“That was very clever, my dear” Aziraphale said, when Crowley finished the story. 

“It’s all right,” Crowley said, “It’s not your thing. You’re all about the requited love, not the other kind.”

“It’s not as though I haven’t seen it. They do get so upset. It’s just like your poison, isn’t it. Not enough to kill them, but it does make them feel like they’re going to--” He trailed off. “Where’s the baby?”

Crowley sat up, looking around wildly. “You said you were watching him!”

“He can’t have gone far.” Aziraphale got to his feet, eyes scanning the grass around them. “Oh,” he said, relieved. “There he is. He’s just playing with the mistletoe.”

Warlock was there beside the nearest apple tree, about twenty meters away, wobbling a bit on his short little legs as he peered at a branch weighed down to the ground with ripe apples. A bright green bunch of mistletoe rested at the level of his head. He reached into it, tiny fingers grabbing a greenish-white berry that immediately went into his mouth. 

Demons can move very quickly when they need to. Crowley crossed the distance at a run, grabbing Warlock and plucking the berry from his mouth. Warlock immediately began to wail. 

Aziraphale snatched the crying toddler from his arms. He whispered something against his hair, and Warlock quieted. “You didn’t have to scare him like that.”

“He was eating the mistletoe!”

“You said it would just make him sick to his stomach.”

“That’s adults,” Crowley groaned, sinking to the ground as though his knees were giving out. “And only if you just eat a little. Higher doses will kill you.” He gestured weakly at Warlock, now sitting calmly in Aziraphale’s arms. “It doesn’t take much to make a big dose for a baby.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale looked horrified. “Why would you-- And they’re using it for Christmas decorations?”

“They were doing it anyway,” Crowley sighed. “I only added the romance part. And I didn’t make it poisonous in the first place,” he added. He pointed upward. “That wasn’t me, that was Her.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said. “Death by poisoning. I suppose that would have been one way to put an end to our problem.”

Crowley reached out and Aziraphale handed Warlock back over. The little boy snuggled up to his Nanny, who bounced him gently against her chest. “I suppose it would have been.” Nanny leaned her head down to look Warlock in the eyes. “You ready to go back to the house now?” 

Warlock giggled back at her. 

Nanny set him on his feet and reached down for a tiny hand. ��See you later, Brother Francis.” The two of them walked back across the garden, toward the big house. Nanny had to bend down a bit to hold on to Warlock’s hand, the brim of her black sun hat tilted down toward the little boy toddling by her knee. 

Brother Francis watched them go. Then he crossed the grass back to the orchard, picked up the shears, and began pruning away the mistletoe. 

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Feline Fancies

Summary: Mr Gold absolutely does not have a crush on the librarian. Never mind the fact that his cat is openly flirting with hers.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “One rule: no falling in love”

Rated: G

=====

Feline Fancies

“We have established a fairly relaxed routine in this home, and I permit you to get away with a lot despite feeding and occasionally housing you, but there is one rule: no falling in love.”

The object of this address paid Gold’s stern voice no heed whatsoever. He wasn’t exactly surprised, after all, he was talking to a cat that went where it pleased and certainly did not consider itself to be owned by anyone, let alone be in a position to be receiving pep talks from the person who owned it in name only.

Gold sighed. He didn’t know why he bothered. Well, deep down he did, but he wasn’t ready to admit that to anyone yet, including himself. So, he used the excuse that approaching middle age and empty nest syndrome had sent him entirely mad, which was certainly the impression that the outside observer would have received if they had looked in through his kitchen window to see him talking to a thoroughly uninterested cat.

O’Malley gave no indication of having heard anything Gold had just said, and he resumed washing his paws with an intense devotion to task that Gold was sometimes able to replicate himself when he found a particularly interesting antique to restore.

“I really don’t know why I bother,” he muttered. “If you end up getting your heart broken, don’t come crying to me about it.”

Although O’Malley was a cat and had no concept of heartbreak in the same way that Gold did, Gold had unfortunately seen many of his own traits in his pet, and he was holding out a feeble hope of being able to live somewhat vicariously through the ginger tom. Like Gold, O’Malley was irritable and anti-social, and aloof in all respects (except when he wanted food, when he became the world’s most docile lap cat). Neal had found O’Malley in the garden, an injured stray, five years ago, and he had become a part of the family furniture ever since, even if he did have a tendency to disappear for days on end.

It was only recently that Gold had found out where O’Malley went during his extended absences. He had been coming out of the library – a place he was frequenting with increasing regularity himself – when he had seen the distinctive flash of an orange tail race up the stairs towards the caretaker’s apartment on top of the library.

Intrigued by this furtive movement, Gold had followed him up, only to find O’Malley sitting on the windowsill making eyes at the fluffy white cat on the other side of the glass. The new librarian, it seemed, had a cat, which had caught O’Malley’s eye in the same way as the librarian herself had caught Gold’s.

By warning O’Malley away from the feline femme fatale, what Gold was actually doing was telling himself not to let his own heart be lost to Miss French. She was young and beautiful and lively and happy, everything that he was not, and there was no way that she could ever be interested in a grumpy old man like him. There was no way that her chic indoor Angora would ever be interested in a scrappy semi-stray like O’Malley.

O’Malley, however, did not seem to be letting such pessimism put him off his stride, and Gold wondered if he perhaps ought to take a leaf out of the cat’s book. Maybe it was time to be positive for once in his life.

Of course, there were several obstacles to this approach. For a start, it was over twenty years since Gold had last been in the dating game, and courtship had moved on a lot in the intervening time. He wouldn’t have the first clue on how to start a conversation with Miss French that wasn’t based on a librarian to patron or landlord to tenant interaction. He was almost about to give it up as a bad job before he’d even begun, until O’Malley finished cleaning his paws and sauntered out through the cat flap with the swaggering air of a cat who had never had to deal with rejection before.

The sight buoyed Gold’s confidence a little. If a cat could do it, he could. Couldn’t he?

Watching O’Malley vanish off down the garden in the direction of the library, Gold had the beginnings of an idea. Although he and Miss French might not have a lot in common, he knew one thing that they shared.

Grabbing his coat and cane, he set off following O’Malley out into town. Perhaps they looked a bit strange the pair of them, striding off with purpose to meet the objects of their affections in the same place, both man and cat on a mission. It was early evening and the library would have closed for the day, but naturally O’Malley had no notion of such concepts as opening hours and socially acceptable times to call on paramours, and he sauntered up the steps and leapt up onto the living room windowsill, calm as you please.

Gold stopped at the bottom of the steps, beginning to get cold feet. Speaking to Miss French in the library was one thing. Speaking to her in her own home was quite another. O’Malley was inconspicuous in that he was a cat. Gold, however, would be intruding a little more. Perhaps it was best to leave things until the morning and find her in more neutral circumstances.

He was about to turn around and go back home when O’Malley decided his course of action for him. It was a warm evening, the beginning of summer finally coming to Storybrooke after months of rain, and the window was open slightly. O’Malley popped one paw into the gap and pushed the window up a little before wriggling through the gap. Gold stayed frozen at the bottom of the steps, wondering what to do then. He could just leave and pretend that nothing had happened, after all, O’Malley wasn’t officially his cat and Miss French could just as easily think he was a stray who’d managed to get inside her apartment. On the other hand, O’Malley had just handed him the perfect opportunity to speak to her, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say that the cat had planned it.

Gold took a deep breath and made his way up the stairs, pausing again before knocking on the door. Miss French opened it a moment later, looking rather taken aback to see him standing there.

“Oh, hello Mr Gold. I wasn’t expecting you here. Is there a problem with the rent?”

“No, no, it’s nothing to do with the rent.” He peered into the flat behind her, trying not to look like he was snooping. He could see O’Malley in the small kitchen area with the white Angora, tucking into a bowl of cat food. The cheeky little blighter. “You, erm, you’ve got my cat.”

“Oh, is he yours?” Miss French opened the door wider and stepped back to let him come inside. “He’s been turning up regular as clockwork for three weeks now. I thought he was a stray, but he looked too well cared for to have been outside for very long. He doesn’t have a collar.” There was a note of admonishment in her voice.

“Well, O’Malley’s not strictly mine,” Gold admitted. “He was a stray when we found him, and he’s got a roaming instinct. It’s highly unlikely that he’s actually called O’Malley. But I feed him, and I often find him curled up in front of the kitchen radiator.”

“It’s nice to know he has a home.” Belle went into the kitchen, side-stepping the two cats as they finished their meal and came out into the living area. “Would you like a cup of tea now that you’re here? You know, I probably shouldn’t be feeding him as much if he has another source of food. He’s a chunky boy.”

Gold nodded; he already gave O’Malley far more treats than was healthy in an attempt to keep the cat coming back to the good life so that Gold could have a little companionship during his days now that Neal had gone to college. He looked over at the two cats as Miss French brought over a cup of tea that he hadn’t had chance either to accept or decline.

“They seem very taken with each other.”

“Yes. I wasn’t sure how Duchess would react when he first turned up at the window, because she’s an indoor cat and she hasn’t really had any interaction with others before. But they’re very happy together.”

O’Malley and Duchess were now curled up in the easy chair together, leaving Gold and Miss French sitting on the small sofa in awkward proximity.

“She’s spayed, so don’t worry. I won’t be turning up on your doorstep with a bunch of little orange and white kittens demanding maintenance money.”

Gold couldn’t help but give a snort of laughter at the image, which quickly turned into a cough when he thought about it some more and realised just how adorable the image of Miss French with her arms full of fuzzy kittens was. Or, more pertinently, just how adorable Miss French herself was, with or without the kittens.

“Mr Gold? Is everything ok?”

Gold nodded, at a complete loss for what to say next, and he returned his attention to the two cats. This would be the perfect opportunity to ask her out. They were sitting right here, and he had the cats as a perfect lead-in. All he had to do was actually pluck up the courage to say something instead of just sitting here like an idiot.

“You know…” Miss French tailed off, looking down at her shoes awkwardly. She seemed to be feeling exactly the same kind of thing that he was feeling, although it couldn’t be because she was trying to ask him out, could it?

“You know…” he echoed.

“Well, I was thinking, since the cats are getting to know each other quite well…”

“…maybe we could get to know each other too?” Gold suggested, blurting out the words before he could second-guess himself. Miss French just looked at him and he felt his shoulders sag. “Or not.”

“No, no. I would like that. That’s exactly what I was going to say myself.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I agree. With what I just said.” He buried his face in his hands. “This is terrible, I should just stop talking.”

Miss French laughed. “No, keep going. I think it’s cute.”

Had she just said that he was cute?

“Would you like to get dinner some time, Miss French?”

She nodded. “I’m free tonight, if you are? And please, call me Belle.”

He was definitely free tonight. He was always free.

“Ok… Belle. That sounds good.”

“Great!” She grabbed her coat and made towards the door, giving a final fond look over her shoulder at the two cats curled up in the easy chair. “You know, I’m very glad that O’Malley started coming over. I might never have got the chance to talk to you otherwise.”

Gold whole-heartedly agreed with the sentiment.

[sarkastically]

(More A Softer World prompt writing. This is messy and winds around a lot because it’s basically stream of consciousness. Not really any warnings needed except for my usual ones, which is Baze and self-doubt. Small hints of sexual situations. And fluffy angst. Also my current goal for myself is finishing things, which is why I’m unearthing a bunch of smaller, older things and completing them. Let’s ride this wave as long as it lasts.)

23. We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)

There are innumerable paths to becoming a Guardian of the Whills. At least that is what the masters say. There are more ways to serve the Whills, to prove your worth than there are stars in the sky, than there are kyber crystals in the caverns under their feet. All is as the Force wills it, after all, so the ultimate test must come from the Force itself.

This is the kind of talk that confuses Baze, leaves him feeling at a loss for what to do next because he has always thrived on instruction, on the sure knowledge of having a set purpose, a plan. The idea that, ultimately, the end goal is somewhat up in the air, privy to his own interpretations, not laid out in perfect detail is disconcerting. It makes his stomach clench into tight knots and keeps him up long into the night, looking at the darkness spread across the ceiling thick as jam on bread trying to figure out what his next steps should be, what the Force is trying to tell him. As he has gotten older, the Force, which was once clear and easy to hear, has gotten hazier, further away, as though it is whispering, as though he has forgotten how to listen.

Again and again, his mind goes back to Chirrut. Again and again, his mind wanders off course, following the will of his heart instead of the will of the Force. Chirrut, after all, cannot be what the Force is trying to point him towards. That way is not quite blasphemy, not in the way that it is to the Jedi, but it is certainly not supposed to be his end task. The Force would not direct him to find his Guardian role in the heart of another. It goes against everything he knows about it. Everything he thinks he knows. The Force sometimes moves in mysterious ways, but this still feels like his own wants bleeding through more than anything else.

Somehow, though, they have gotten tangled up together, the Force and Chirrut, bound as if by silken ropes, by shards of kyber, they shimmer in the same way in his mind’s eyes, in his soul. It perplexes him and makes him doubt himself, doubts the path that he is on and whether he is worthy of it. There are other roads to walk in life, he knows, and perhaps he would be better at one of those. There are so many roads, but Baze has never considered any of them other than being a Guardian of the Whills.

No, this is not quite true. He has considered other things but only insofar as they would still benefit the Whills in other ways, in smaller ways perhaps but even small ways are important. A gardener, a baker, a sculptor, an archivist. All of these have flitted into and out of his mind before over the years because he loves them all. Being a Guardian did not mean that he could not be all of those things as well. Guardians serve in whatever way they can, he knows. But all of those roles, on their own, would mean not being a Guardian, which seems somehow lesser in his mind, even though he knows that it shouldn’t. The masters have always said that no one’s place in the Force is greater than anyone else’s, no matter what the Jedi say about prophecy.

“They need something to hold onto,” one of the masters told him when he was young and confused over the texts of their cousins. “They need to split things into pieces to understand it because at the heart of themselves they are conflicted. They have not yet come to see that everything is a whole. There is not light and darkness, separate and distinct, there is just the Force. Everywhere. Since they see it this way, they needed to contrive a story in which someone could bring it together. It’s a metaphor for their own disjointedness. They need someone to bring it together for them because they cannot just accept that it is. Like we know.”

And Baze, young and wide-eyed because how could the Jedi be wrong about something when they had lightsabers and powers and Force ability? How could it be that they were wrong? “Why can’t we just tell them, Master.”

“We have tried, Initiate Malbus, and they cannot hear us. They do not heed the Whills. It is their way. We are together in the Force, the way that we are together in the Force with all life, but we are still separate. Do you understand?” They had touched his hair, short cropped like all the younglings, and Baze had just stood there for a moment, thinking.

“Like the branches on a tree?” he asked. “Starting from the same place but not going to the same place?”

The fingers patted his cheek, and the master smiled. “Very much like a tree, young Baze. Think of the Force as a tree and everything in the universe part of that tree, branches and leaves and roots. Everything connected and of the same stuff but not always the same thing. For each leaf is different, isn’t it?”

Baze, who spent so much of his time in the gardens with the plants, in the trees, tending all the living things because he liked them, he liked to help, and he liked how quiet they were. They did not yell and scream into the Force the way that other beings did. No, the plants were quiet. They giggled and sang and whispered. Sometimes he couldn’t even hear them properly, they were just a quiet sound lapping against the edges of his mind, endlessly comforting. When the trees dropped their leaves, he had studied them, ran his fingers over the tracery of their veins, compared to his own where he could make out the rivers of his blood that traveled under his skin. All the veins were different even if the shape of the leaves were the same. Everything in the universe was special. Everything in the universe was sacred. “Yes, Master,” he said with a smile, thinking of the leaves and flower petals and everything unfolding around him.

“Good boy,” the master said, grinning, using another one of their many arms to settle a hand on his shoulder. “Baze, why are you here?”

“To be a Guardian. To serve the Whills. To serve the Force,” he answered, voice strong and clear and wholly innocent, repeating the same words that he had given the day he had knocked on the temple door, alone, sent by his family because there were simply too many mouths, and of all the children Baze was the one marked, Baze was the one who heard, who saw, who spoke of lights in the sky and voices in his mind, the one who would flicker out of existence when the calling was too much. They had told him he was special, but that had meant less to Baze than the fact that by going to the temple, he could help his family. Even if it meant he probably would not see them again.

They had told him that as well when they bundled him up in as many layers of his clothing as they could wind round him, tucking bits and pieces anywhere there was a chance, putting what little food they could into his pockets, kissing his face and his hair and his hands. There had been a lot of crying, and he could not recall their faces, but he did remember the warmth of their tears on his skin, bright like sunlight, but full of salt. He said he loved them. He asked them not to cry. They said they would not see him again. The sands were calling. Baze never found out what that meant. No one would tell him at the temple when he arrived. No one ever has, though Chirrut’s face changes in a way that scares him when he asks so he stopped ages ago, thinks instead of the sands of Jedha, of everything that is there, of the caves and the statues. Surely there are other cities. Surely there are other places to live. In one of those, his family exists, whole and happy and safe. So it is fine if he does not see them because he remembers the feel of lips on his palms, tears on his fingertips.

When the master smiled, it was sad, the sort of face they gave him from time to time, a sort of grown-up expression that Baze had not learned how to read yet but that was a bluish-gray in the Force glimmers that would dance through his head. “No, young one. Why are you in the archives instead of playing? Why are you reading during the free period? Would you not rather join your classmates?”

Baze had frowned, his face moving before he meant it to, but the master said nothing, just tilted their head slightly to the side, and waited. The other kids didn’t like him much, and Baze could not understand why, had never asked. They were not cruel, but they were separate. When he got near, they would part in waves around him, and none of them ever spoke to him first or sought him out. He never felt at peace with them. Plus they were loud. In every definition of the word he knew. The archives were better, the kitchens were better, the long spiraling hallways filled with ancient artwork, the corridors where he could wander and wander until he was lost and then follow his steps back to the initiate dorms were better, and the garden was best. Though the garden was currently full of the other children who did not get him, which was why he was there. “I like the archives.” It was not a lie; it was just not the entire truth. “It’s quiet here. I like the quiet.”

The master folded their many hands together and looked at him for a moment, so long that Baze grew uncomfortable and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited. “You don’t always have to listen so hard. I think it would be wise for you to remember that. However, if you like the archives, let me find a book for you.”

Instead of a book about the Whills or the Force or the history of Jedha, the master had located one full of poems and stories. Long, rambling things about trees and gods and children birthed from flowers and serpents who lived in the air. It had entranced Baze for hours, long past the point when he should have left the archives to attend his other classes, but the master must have covered for him because no one ever said anything to him, he never got in trouble for that long afternoon spent lying on his stomach reading as the words spun out like so many sparkling, glimmering roads, each one a truth in and of itself even when they did not coalesce. Baze took them all, tucked them into his head and his heart, never forgot them, would whisper them, delightedly, to Chirrut when he discovered that he was not afraid of him, did not scurry at the mere sight of him, was loud but in a different way, in a way that would soar through his body like a bird in flight instead of like the clamor of a bell in his brain.

He thinks about it, the ease of it, just being in the archives and reading the books there, letting the words take him away wherever they wanted to, as he stares at the ceiling, trying not to think about the paths and the roads to becoming a Guardian, the winding, circuitous routes of the Force. Sometimes trees grow wrong. Baze knows this because he has seen them, several in the temple garden. They grow right through something instead of around it, they fuse themselves with other saplings planted too close to them, forming a bond that can never be broken. Can be people be like trees in this? Can people also grow wrong?

Has he grown wrong? Is that why the voice of the Force, once so clear, has dulled. When it was once too loud such that he would get frightened and hide under the stairs even though it didn’t help, it didn’t help because the Force is everywhere and nowhere and inside everything, invisible but not so it didn’t matter where he went because there it would be, always, waiting. Only now he has to strain to hear it, thinks it pulls away from him, little by little, as though he has wronged it. Perhaps he has.

Baze does not quite love the Force like he used to, and he no longer fears it. But if he has grown wrong than how will he know that he is on the right path at all? If he has grown wrong, what if he ends up walking, alone, into the night, into the sands, into nothing, without a path, without a reason, never to come home?

And what is home? It is the Whills with its labyrinth corridors and crystal caverns and the endless amounts of knowledge? Or is it the bright unfurling in his chest when Chirrut’s fingers twine into his own? What if it is the latter and that means he has failed all the tests that the Force and the Whills have put before him?

In the dark, Baze covers his face with his hands as though he can stop his thoughts from meandering so far by physically holding them inside of his skull, and because there are tears on his face that he should wipe away even though the chances are slim that anyone will see. He is meant to be of sterner stuff, after all. He wants to be a Guardian, he wants to protect the temple and all the small, lovely things that are contained inside of it. The children and the flowers and the kyber and the lore. The bricks of the temple itself seem to be filled with more knowledge than he will ever be able to carry in his worried and ramshackle mind. He would die for it.

He would also die for Chirrut. He would do many more things for Chirrut. Baze cannot fathom anything he would not do for Chirrut, and that is another cold worry in the stack that he has been collecting, that gather on his chest like stones to sink him into chilling water, to steal his breath away.  

“You carry indecision like a millstone round your neck,” one of the masters told him, once, when he was past childhood but not quite a man, his shoulders filling out, his height extending in leaps and bounds that left him clumsy, all his limbs betraying him. “You rely on others to choose for you, and that is a dangerous way to live, Initiate Malbus. You must be very careful who you rely on if you let someone else take your will.”

It’s not quite that, he thinks, even though he can scarcely put into words what it is instead. Perhaps it is simply that he does not trust himself. It is hard to see where he should be, where he should stand, who needs him. Baze always attempts to place himself where the need is greatest, where he can try and do the most good, but he gets confused, torn in many directions, like how his heart has wanted to be a baker, a painter, a gardener, a mender, a guardian. There are all these things that need doing, and he wants to do them all, stretch himself so wide that he can easily complete all of them, stretch so wide that he can cover the entire temple the way that the night sky covers the moon of Jedha when the sun goes away. Even though he knows this is not how it works, he can not stop thinking of night the way he saw it in that book from so long ago, a painting of a person in a black cloak studded with bright stars, arms spread wide to embrace the entire world. He likes that image. He would be that if he could.

Baze Malbus would be the night sky, dark and tranquil, swimming with stars, arms spread wide for the universe itself, holding everything because some things never get held at all and that is the biggest tragedy that he can imagine, even larger than this pressing weight of indecision on his chest.

By the time the door to his door opens, he has folded his hands on his chest again, but he is still crying, silently and sparsely, just rivulets of salt water down his cheek, which fingers almost as familiar as his own find and wipe away. “You’re so loud, I can hear you thinking in my room.” Chirrut’s voice is a not even a good facsimile of a whisper as though he has no concept of the fact that it is late and they are all supposed to be asleep, that night is for quiet and darkling thoughts that rustle in the corners like small creatures seeking sustenance.

Baze would die for him, and he wonders if he knows this fact even as Chirrut shoves at his arm until Baze has rolled onto his side, pressed his back against the wall in order to make enough room on the small bed for Chirrut to join him. Now the blackness that he stares into is located inside of Chirrut’s eyes, and it is so much more alive than anything else he has ever seen. “Did you come to quiet me?” He doesn’t realize how much it sounds like a leading question, a request for a kiss or more, until it is out of his mouth, and he can see the white of Chirrut’s smile gleaming in the black around them. The darkness is a reprieve because Chirrut will not be able to see the blush that rises on his face, trails down his neck, seems to fill him with a rushing warmth all the way to his toes, like sliding into the kyber pools.

“Not in. Not in that way,” Baze protests before Chirrut can say anything, and his voice stumbles out of him in fits and starts like he is wine drunk after a festival and struggling to rise.

“No?” Chirrut’s voice is part mocking and part disappointed and all distracting. If Baze did not love him so, it would be irritating and frustrating, but all it is now is as intoxicating as a warm palm pressed to the small of his back after a sparring match, a promise of further intimacy to follow. The hand that Chirrut places on his cheek to brush away the remaining tears is careful, cautious, comforting, and Baze leans into it as soundly as he would against a tree or a pillar, something solid that will not move under his weight, something he trusts.

“No,” Baze agrees, mollified, but suddenly not nearly as humiliated by the slip of the tongue because he wouldn’t mind it if things did go that way, would accept it willingly and completely. He just needed Chirrut to know that it wasn’t a come on, wasn’t some flirty, strange thing. Baze has never been good at those anyway. Charm is Chirrut’s hallmark, fashioned for him as surely as the starbird round his neck, the one that is always warmed from his skin when Baze presses his lips to it, to his chest, to every piece of flesh on him.

“Maybe later,” Chirrut’s voice never whispers as though he has never learned how to be quiet, but it softens to the point where it is like flower petals rubbed between fingers. “I came to find out what was wrong anyway. Not just kiss it better. Unless you want me to.”

The weight of all his worries remain like anchors tied to his feet. Baze is unsure whether he will ever be able to step out of them and walk freely, isn’t sure he would know what to do with himself if he ever managed it. He has braided his anxieties into his hair along with bits of lace and the locks Chirrut gave him when he chose to have his own head shorn. Baze’s family kept their secrets in their hair. He remembers this out of so little, and he has followed suit.

“Baze.” The word like a flower petal ready to tear if too much pressure is used.

Baze reaches out to touch him only to find that Chirrut catches his hand before it reaches him, presses kisses to each of his knuckles in turn and then his palm. Once, when they had first started dipping their toes into the water of their attraction to each other, Chirrut ran his lips and tongue across the line on Baze’s hand meant to represent life and then along the one supposed to be for love. He had nipped and sucked, Baze breathing heavily and aching and so enamored, wanting to do something but frozen, until Chirrut had looked up, eyelids heavy and guarded, lips full, and said, “Now I’m connected to both. Now I’m part of both. For you.” And Baze couldn’t make his tongue move to tell him that he didn’t think it worked that way, because he wanted it to be true, though he was able to make his tongue move enough to press it greedily into Chirrut’s mouth when they kissed.

“I will hear you,” Chirrut says, and his words are a winding path of their own. There are many paths in the Force, and most of them have been trodden by many feet in the past, generations of members of the Whills. Then there is Chirrut, blazing down his own path, making his own way.

And then there is Baze who does not know what to do and where to go and how best to serve. There is Baze who thinks of the future and only sees Guardian robes in a puddle at Chirrut’s feet, sees the light of kyber reflecting cool off his golden skin, sees his own hands splayed across that perfection, sees them hand in hand, sees one set of footsteps in the sand that he places his own feet into because he knows no other way than to follow where this man goes. If that is wrong, if that is him grown wrong, he is not sure he would want to be right.

Baze swallows. Baze speaks. “I do not know a path in the Force other than you.”

There is nothing sinister in Chirrut’s laugh, nothing ominous in his smile, which is the way it can look when facing an opponent. There is not even mirth but something much more pure, awestruck, nearly rapture. “I kissed myself there,” he says, still so soft, like sinking fingers into flour. “I kissed myself onto your lifeline. Now you cannot be rid of me.”

It is truth. This is truth. Maybe this is not how it works, but that does not mean it is not the truth even if it discomforts him somewhat. The truth and Baze are fast friends, he has always sought it like a plant following the course of the sun throughout the day. He has always embraced it and always will, especially when it is warm and solid and laughing against his skin.

Baze cannot be the night sky. He cannot spread his arms wide and embrace the whole of the universe. His arms will not spread wide enough to embrace even the whole of Jedha. But his arms are wide enough to fit Chirrut in the circle of them. They are strong enough to hold him even when he feigns attempts to break free that only roll them over until Chirrut is astride his lap and leaning down to pepper his face with kisses, hungry lips and tongue and heart. Chirrut has the hungriest heart that Baze has ever met, and he would be consumed entirely.

The night is dark, and the temple is quiet. There is no sound, no light. It is like hanging in the sky between the stars, but they are not alone when they are together. And Baze is fine having no path other than the one his tongue traces from the juncture of Chirrut’s hip further down.

[kyulkyungs]

Pile of Leaves, Bundle of Joy

Character(s): Woozi (Lee Jihoon)

Genre: F! L! U! F! F! Y!!!!

Word Count: 625

Summary:  “Please tell me you didn’t see me jump into that pile of leaves…” (x)

A/N: OH GOLLY! I almost forgot about this, but here this is! Boy, am I productive today.

Woozi is a man. A manly man. He is not some sort of fluffy child with the brightest smile in the world. He is definitely not. Nope, not one bit.

Lee Jihoon, however? Now that’s a different story.

Yes, both names belong to the same person, but today Jihoon has a day off and he drops the name of Woozi and bears his real title loud and proud. He had just found that a bunch of trees had been losing their green from summer and were now turning a whole variety of colors. What made it even better was that the colors flew before him and landed by his feet as the wind blew. With no body around to watch him, he started to clump up a couple of the leaves on the ground. With two handfuls, he threw them in the air and smiled widely when he watched them flutter back down.

He continued this for a while, laughing when the wind would blow the leaves elsewhere and continue them on their journey to a new spot. The park he was in was pretty secluded, it being the middle of a weekday, when most people had work or school. So he took that opportunity to continue playing with the wind and bright colors. Every so often he’d stop throwing leaves around and would chase after the leaves that flew with a breeze.

Suddenly Jihoon had the best idea yet. Stop because he heard some footsteps nearby? What footsteps? Those are his because he’s about to make the biggest leaf pile ever!

With chilly hands, Jihoon started crafting a nicely sized pile. He pursed his lip and looked around. There were plenty of other leaves nearby, but he was afraid the wind would blow over his pile. With a pout he looked longingly at the stray leaves in need of a new home. He threw off his jacket to keep the leaves in place so he could gather more.

Now he was really cold, his ears and nose turning red and goosebumps forming on his arms. That only edged him on even more to collect more leaves and create such a large pile to jump in. His drive to collect more leaves and accidentally prick himself on little twigs and rocks outdid his reasoning to avoid catching a cold.

The smile on his face, however, made up for all of it. It was so bright, so warm, so genuine that nobody could find it in themselves to scold him and tell him to stop. Even though he was supposed to be on his way to the store to pick up food, he just couldn’t stop having the time of his life out there.

Jihoon rubbed his hands together and blew into them in an attempt to warm them up again. The wind blew once and he waited for it to stop before he collected his jacket. He grinned a big toothy grin similar to a child’s – though what’s the difference? – and took quite a couple of steps back. He had to make this quick or else the wind would come up again and ruin all of his hard work. When he started off, he was sprinting. Finally he took one glorious leap. He landed and watched as the beautiful colors spun around him once again.

A laugh that was as smooth as honey and as precious as gold sounded in the quiet air. But it wasn’t his. Jihoon turned his head slowly and saw you standing a couple of feet away, a hand over your mouth to try and contain your laughter – even though it wasn’t helping at all.

“Please tell me you didn’t see me jump into that pile of leaves…”

[star-across-the-universe]

SILVER and SCARS

The moon shone down on the rooftops, painting the night with a perfect soft, diffuse glow, like the steady hand of a master painter. A passing cloud parted the veil over its bright face, casting a shaft of silver light down dramatically toward a lone figure, his face mysteriously obscured in shadows. He stood with one foot up on the low parapet of a building, the edge of his cloak sweeping behind him as if it were alive, tossed about in the chill breeze. 

He stared out over the city. His thoughts were his own tonight, mysterious and as dark as night shadows on velvet, or some other really dark thing...

So loud were his brooding thoughts ringing in his ears that he nearly missed the sound of a footstep on the rooftop behind him. 

“So, you have found me at last, my rival,” he murmured in a low and silken voice. “I knew this day would come.”

“You knew you couldn’t hide from my eyes forever, you mean,” the deep, rich rumbling of a completely different voice was carried toward him on the wind. “Also, it’s technically night time.”

“Confound you, Scarr Fightsmore,” the tall, cloaked figure whirled around, revealing his elegant porcelain features in the pale moonlight, his fashionable fluffy hair dancing in the wind like white flames. “Yes, all right, it’s night time - but the moon’s bright gleam warms me as if it were day.” He said. “Tell me, why do you hound me, after all these years?”

“Because,” said the voice as its owner stepped fully into a beam of glistening luminance, “I will never forgive you for your betrayal, my greatest enemy, and once, my greatest friend - Magnus Darkbright, the Silver Sorcerer!” 

The broad, hulking, yet sensual figure of Scarr Fightsmore was lit gently, his sinuous, corded frame caressed by the soft glow from above. His long, night-dark hair was also billowing in the wind, hanging mysteriously across his face but occasionally pulled aside to reveal a terrible yet intriguing scar running down his forehead, over one eye, and down his face. There was also another scar running perpendicular to the first one, across his face. 

“My betrayal?” The silver-haired mage - who looked far younger than the color of his hair would indicate, except inside his eyes, which looked very old indeed - exclaimed in outrage. “You lie! It was you who abandoned me, when you -”

“I will hear no more of your trickery - now DIE!” the very muscular fighter shouted in a sensual growl. Scarr had always been the impulsive, yet quiet type, even before he got the scars. His parents must have been very prescient. He pulled a sword from over his shoulder, though Magnus couldn't see where it had come from.

The silver sorcerer - who was actually a wizard, technically - gasped. “That sword... It's not a sword!”

“How right you are, my former friend,” he roared throatily as he ran towards Magnus, his dark hair trailing behind him as if it were in water. “It is 100 swords! Every sword of everyone I have defeated in sword-combat, forged into a sword!”

“That is unreasonable!” shouted Magnus, as he summoned his arcane prowess and his eyes began to glow with a mystical light. White flames danced across his fingertips, just like his white hair danced in the wind. It was very fashionable. “You can't just weld more swords to your sword every time you defeat someone - it goes against every principle of metallurgy!”

“And yet, I will not rest until I have buried it to the hilt, deep inside your flesh!” the fighting man yelled in response as he finally reached Magnus.

The wizard dodged out of the way, but only barely, and the sword looked like a wall made of swords as it passed by his face. A single lock of his beautiful silvery hair drifted slowly to the ground like a leaf, made of silk. It had been cut off by the blade, which was apparently sharper than you'd expect from a sword made of a bunch of swords stuck together.

Scarr Fightsmore was very strong, and also very fast despite being so huge and muscular - but The Silver Sorcerer did know him very well indeed, and could predict his moves. He was a wizard after all.

Which was good, because Scarr whirled around, like a shadow passing over the moon, and swung the sword of blades at Magnus again. The wizard vanished like smoke, reappearing thirty-five feet away but still on the rooftop. “Scarr Fightsmore, you give me no choice but to set you on fire,” He warned dangerously, his words like a whisper but louder. 

The fighter roared at him again, a sound like the scrape of steel against steel, only deeper, and ran towards him like a charging bull, except with a sword instead of horns. Magnus chanted secret, unspoken words of power, letting the mystical energy swirl around him until it reached a climax, and then shot out at the other man in a gout of burning white flames.

Scarr kept coming toward him, exploding through the white hot heat. “You fool!” he said while smiling and also on fire, “I have been setting myself on fire every day just to practice fighting you, and now I am immune to fire!”

“You can’t become immune to fire,” Magnus frowned. “Fire doesn’t become less hot the more times you are set on fire. It doesn’t work that way!” Only just then he realized that Scarr was still running towards him as he was talking, just as he was suddenly slammed into by a great big hunk of beef and unresolved issues.

“Ahah! It’s called nerve damage!” said the fighter triumphantly.

Magnus said nothing, because he was too busy flying through the air, which was normal for him, except only without magic this time, which was not normal. His flight was suddenly brought to a stop by a brick wall, which was conveniently on the roof, where the roof entrance was.

“Ugh!” said Magnus. His head was ringing like a hundred bells would, if you threw them at a brick wall. He looked up and saw Scarr walking towards him slowly in the bright moonlight, which was good because it gave him time to think. If he could just get close enough to the fighter without getting his head chopped off...

He lay on the floor and moaned, gripping his head between his hands - he pretended to be hurt, which wasn’t hard, because getting thrown into a wall really hurt actually.

“Now, finally I will have my revenge for your betrayal, Magnus Darkbright, when you left me to die all by myself!” said Scarr, as he walked up to the wizard and pointed the sword of many blades at his throat. 

“I already TOLD you,” Magnus said, his sticky-uppy hair falling over his eyes fashionably. “You betrayed ME!” He grabbed ahold of the sword and channelled his magics, charging his hands with lightning, which ran up the blade with great huge sparks and into Scarr’s big hands and muscled arms. The fighter was exploded backward, in a different direction than the sword, which flew through the air and stuck into the rooftop. He staggered up against the brick wall, which was conveniently behind him. 

Magnus walked towards Scarr slowly, his hands still sparking with lightning like a distant thunderstorm, only in his fingers instead. Scarr leaned back against the wall as Magnus came up to him and leaned towards him with the lightning, which was casting dark shadows and bright light on his face, just like his name. Magnus put one hand on the wall over Scarr’s shoulder so he couldn’t leave, which he could do because Magnus was also very tall, even if he didn’t have muscles.

“You left ME to die all alone, because you never showed up and I had to fight a whole army of evil undead by myself!” Magnus had tears in his eyes, but it didn’t count as crying, because they caught fire before they rolled down his face. His cloak billowed in the wind.

“No, you left ME to fight an army of evil undead by MYself,” Scarr said, sticking his lower lip out in a way that was both sad and angry. “What kind of a friend is that?” His silky black hair also fluttered in the wind.

“Wait,” said Magnus, thinking. His tears dried really quick, because they were on fire. “Did you go to the east gate, or the west gate?”

Scarr frowned, his scars illuminated starkly in the moonlight. “The west gate, of course, like you said!” 

Magnus also frowned. “What? No, I told you to go to the east gate. East, with an E.”

“But west also has an E in it,” Scarr said, thoughtfully. “Does that mean...” He looked at Magnus, his eyes gleaming in the soft moonlight shining down on the both of them, his face shadowed hauntingly, like his tragic past. 

“We were both just in the wrong place,” Magnus breathed out the words, which escaped into the night air like the sadness leaving his body. “So then did you really come to help me?”

“I would never leave you alone,” said Scarr, “because you’re my friend.” 

He looked deeply into Magnus’ eyes, and Magnus looked into his, like a mirror. The wizard leaned in more, putting his other hand on the wall on the other side of Scarr’s head, only he forgot to get rid of the lightning, which shot into the brick wall. But neither of them cared as sparks exploded around them, because finally they knew that they had truly found -

“Ah, Everine, there you are!” a cheerful voice cut in brightly. “Hard at work on that essay on somatic components I assigned you, right?”

The young elven girl’s eyes flew open and she slammed the notebook shut abruptly with the pen still inside it. She was thankful that someone her age probably couldn’t get a heart attack. 

“Hahhaaahhh, you know it, Master Pipeleaf,” She grinned and pointed both index fingers at him, laughing through clenched teeth. She carefully slid the notebook aside and leaned an elbow on it protectively. 

Her mother smiled breezily, having escorted her erstwhile tutor in. “Thank you again for coming by, Cleric Pipeleaf, it’s so hard to find a good spell tutor these days, especially within the church, what with all the troubles in the world lately.“

Davin waved it off with a smile. “Not at all, ma’am. Young Everine is a very bright pupil. She’ll be quite the asset to the mage guild someday soon I’m sure, particularly with her talent in divinations. I’d hate to see that wasted.”

“Yes, such a colorful imagination!” Her mother laughed and gave Everine’s hair a tousle, at which her daughter wrinkled her freckled brown nose and readjusted her bright yellow hair bow. “Well, you two just let me know if you need anything, I’m sure Everine is eager to get to her studies.”

The elf girl gave them her brightest, widest, and most innocent rictus.

[matsbarzal]

O Mama Don't You Cry - Zach Werenski

Notes: look its not a smut for once (and ima wait on a few smuts, write a few non-smuts for you all then post bc :) ) but yeah, here’s a sUPER cute Zach Werenski one and its a lil fluffy with a bit of a grumpy zach so be excited!! also i feel like my titles have nothing to do with the story and im sorry

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking

Mentions: Dylan Larkin, Jack Eichel, Auston Matthews, Noah Hanifin, Charlie McAvoy, a few more

Requested By @werenzki (also check out her imagines bc if you have time to binge-read, would definitely recommend!!): I'd love who when the reader is at some party or something and she's interested in zach werenski but he thinks she's into Dylan Larkin so he gets sort of awkward and jealous but by the end of the night she turns her attention to Zach and it's all cute and stuff..

Up Next: idk its a surprise y’all

“You take advantage of me and my semi-attractive friends and I don’t appreciate it, (Y/N).”

“Oh shut up, Dyl.”

Growing up with Dylan Larkin meant two things specifically. One, his parents basically thought you hung the moon, dealing with their son on an everyday, almost twenty-four-seven basis. Two, you always managed to secure yourself an invite to the best possible USA hockey parties, and thankfully, those parties were always littered with free booze, free food and very very good looking boys.

“So, what are we gonna do tonight (Y/N)?” Dylan looked over at you, a sarcastic look evident in his eyes. “We’re gonna drink all the booze we can find and flirt with the cutest guys. Then we’re going to embarrass Jack about how much he loves McDav-”

“Or we’re gonna take you home and then you can see the party from Snapchat?”

You loved the kid like a brother, but Dylan Larkin was the epitome of a party pooper. D-boss himself always found a way to put a damper on your fun, especially when it came to your terrorizing of the Sabres player.

“Also, there’s gonna be a bunch of new kids there tonight, some you haven’t met, so don’t offend anyone.” Turning another corner, the cooler in the back making a loud bang as the alcohol inside rolled around. “Like?”

“Um, Matthews, McAvoy, Werenski, a few others I think.”

“Werenski’s the one that finished the season with the cute little purple bruise on his eye right?” You could almost remember the game vividly, the American teen taking a puck off the face from Phil Kessel had everyone around you scrunching up in sympathetic pain.

Raising an eyebrow at you, Dylan nodded his head, “Yeah… the little purple bruise.”

Pulling up outside a house, the two of you looked at your surroundings. There were a few cars, not that many, and it didn’t look like a lot of people had arrived yet. “Pretty dead for a 4th of July party, Larks.”

“Boys told me to come early, said if I wanted a parking spot it’d be the best option. Also said they wanted you there early so they could get early dibs.”

“Oh fuck you, Dylan.”

It didn’t take long for the place to fill up. Plenty of familiar and unfamiliar faces were sat all around you. You were basically glued to Dylan’s side, though, due to his ‘worry’ that you would end up terrorizing someone and getting kicked out for being rude.

“I literally just wanna tell Jack his hair looks extra ugly and Philadelphia-like today.”

“And I literally just want you to not do that so we both don’t get kicked out for offending the actual host of the party.”

Just as you were about to retort, a few semi-familiar faces appeared in front of the two of you. You had met Auston a few times, the Leafs player often frequented these parties, and you were pretty sure you recognized the guy beside him and your thoughts were confirmed when Dylan screeched his name into your ear.

“Werenski! Look at that ugly mug. Plastic surgery in the future to fix the beauty of a save you made?”

“Still better looking than you, D-boss.”

They did their bro-hug thing, while Auston turned towards you, a smirk on his face. “So who called dibs today, (Y/N)? Heard Hanifin may’ve gotten the first call.”

“I’ve actually decided to call dibs on Dylan over here, thought it’d be best if we just appeased our parents wishes and I popped out a few Larkin babies. I’m hoping for twins, right dear?” Dylan looked at you in mild disgust at the thought of procreating with you.

“Anyways, (Y/N), this is Zach. Zach, (Y/N).”

The man in questioned leaned forward to shake your hand, right as you moved in for a hug, leaving the two of you at an awkward stance. It took a beat before he opened his arms for an awkward hug. “It’s uh… nice to meet you, (Y/N). I’ve heard a lot of things.”

“Trashy things, I’m sure.”

The Blue Jacket looked embarrassed as he stumbled over his words, his two USA teammates looking on in mild amusement. “No I uh… just that you’re a cool chick and stuff.”

His stumbling of words and awkward demeanour made you internally swoon, he was seriously a cutie. Even if he couldn’t form full sentences in one try.

“Yo, I want you to meet a few more people.” Dylan tugged on your hand, as you gave an awkward wave to Auston and Zach while allowing your best friend to pull you away from the conversation.

“So Werenski’s a real cutie.”

Dylan shook his head, a silent laugh etched on his face, “You’d destroy the poor guy, but I think he thinks the same, man couldn’t even keep up one full sentence near ya. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“So, (Y/N), huh?”

Auston Matthews looked at the Jackets defensemen in confusion, “Yeah, what about her?”

“Are her and Larkin… like a thing?” He was seriously hoping the answer was an affirmative no, but the look on Auston’s face told him otherwise.

“No ones really sure. She never goes home with any of the guys here, and she only ever comes with Dylan and leaves with Dylan. Some people think they’re secretly a thing, others think she’s secretly fucking some baseball player from Las Vegas. No one knows. Don’t worry about it dude, she’ll never go for you anyways.”

Thanks for the encouragement, Matts.

He secretly glowered at the couple in question, as you threw your head back in laughter at something Dylan had said. He wasn’t allowed to be jealous, he had just met you for fuck sakes! It didn’t help that you looked gorgeous and your hair was perfect and the shorts you were wearing showed off all your curves and your long as fuck legs and he really needed to get over this before things got awkward.

“Your crush is glaring over at us.” Dylan stated, pressing the cold beer into your hand which you greedily accepted.

“My crush?”

“Zach.”

You turned in the direction Dylan was looking, only to make eye contact with the man. He quickly diverted his attention to something else, a small tint of rosy red going up his neck. “I think he likes you. Go talk to him.”

“He thinks y'all are a thing.” Auston stated from behind you, a small grin on his face. “And why does he think that?”

“Cause I told him that you’re basically a thing, fun to fuck with him sometimes.”

Silently shaking your head in laughter, you stood up and handed the beer back to Dylan, walking over to the empty seat beside Zach. “Is this seat taken?”

Looking up at you in shock, he awkwardly shook his head and gestured for you to take it.

“You look pretty lonely over here. Very grumpy an’ all. I know you got a puck to the eye a few months ago, but come on, smile a little.” You nudged him jokingly, pumping your fists internally when it did bring a smile to his face.

“Did the happy posse send you over here to make me look like I secretly don’t wanna kill Matts for dragging me here?” He questioned, a small tint in his eye that you couldn’t place.

“What, you don’t like these fun as fuck parties, hosted by our favourite ginger, Jack Eichel?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he looking around the room with a raised eyebrow, “There’s so many puck bunnies here, I think my bank accounts already draining. I hate the people he invites, sometimes. But seriously, did they send you over here?”

Immediately shaking your head, “Nah, couldn’t leave a cute guy like you to sit all by yourself. Especially with all these girls around, I wanted to be the first to call dibs, ya know? Girls gotta let her inner bunny out every now and then.”

Laughing at your own joke, Zach looked at you in confusion. “Dibs?”

“It’s a running joke between all of us. Every time I get invited to one of these parties, they always tell Larks to bring me early so whoever comes early can call dibs. This time, I get to be the one to call it.”

Nudging his side with a wink, you moved back into the cushions, getting yourself comfier. “Oh, so you and Larks… like… aren’t like… actually gonna have twins and stuff?”

A large bust of laughter burst from your throat. You tried to contain it as quickly as possible, which only had you gripping your sides in silent pain. “Oh my god, no! Ew, never! Dylan’s literally the brother I never wanted. Ew.”

You saw Zach let whatever chip was on his shoulder fall off, as his body let the tension roll off and a larger smile appear on his face. “Oh.”

“Why?”

“It’s just that I like thought you were super cute and um… I didn’t really wanna like um… make you uncomfortable and piss Larks off and uh… yeah.” He subconsciously scratched at his chin, an awkward grin plastered across his face.

“Oh my god, were you glaring because you were jealous?”

“No! I uh… I wasn’t glaring. My eye makes it look like I’m glaring but-”

“Your eyesight wasn’t fucked up dumbass, this is pathetic. Just tell her you think she’s hot and ask her to have twins with you instead. Or on a date. Both work. You’ll end up practicing for the twins after the date anyways.” The host of the party interrupted your conversation, his ginger hair clashing with his red and blue outfit, his outburst also attracting half the party to your conversation.

“Jack! Just who I’ve been wanting to see! Your hairs ugly, and it’s such a shame you couldn’t wait out in your draft year, you already lost to McDavid so you should’ve given the world some justice and let Philly take you so you could’ve matched their jerseys with that ugly mop of hair on your head, sweetie.”

Glowering at you, Jack ignored your words and raised an eyebrow at the man beside you. “Well, you gonna ask her out or not?”

“Yeah, ask her out Werenski!” Dylan yelled from the other side of the room, which induced the multiple repetitions from a bunch of other surrounding people.

Ignoring them, Zach gestured to the currently half-empty backyard. “Wanna go out back?”

Nodding your head, he stood up and lent his hand out for you to take to pull yourself up with. He followed closely behind you as you stepped around people to the back door, pulling the sliding glass open and holding it so he could come through too.

“For a Fourth of July party, shouldn’t everyone be outside?” You questioned, looking at the few people who were sitting at the edge of Jack’s pool.

“It’s Eichel, man’s probably trying to get his own damn party shut down. Man’s a freak.”

Nodding your head in silent agreement, you watched the couples in the backyard, “These couples are precious. They all have matching Fourth of July outfits and I love it.”

“I want matching Fourth of July outfits with you.”

You looked at Zach in shock, and he seemed shocked about what he said aloud, obviously it was supposed to be an internal statement. The blood that was currently rushing to his cheeks made you squeeze his arm with a silent smile. “It’s cool, we can match for Halloween or some shit. Ketchup and mustard maybe?”

“Don’t be basic. I’m thinking more like Captain America and Black Widow?”

Squinting at him, you let out a small laugh, “I know you’ve got huge biceps and washboard abs to match but I really don’t think you could pull off the Captain America look. Only Chris Evans can do that.”

Pouting toward you, Zach solemnly nodded his head, “I guess you’re right. Maybe I’ll just dye my hair before then. Just kidding, could you imagine me as a blonde? That’s a nightmare waiting to happen.”

Agreeing with his statement, you surveyed the yard, before turning to him. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you gonna ask me out or do I have to do it for you?”

Groaning could be heard from behind the two of you, “Why does she have to ruin everything?”

“Fuck you, Larks.”

Turning to you with a half grin, have grimace, Zach gestured to the rally of hockey players behind you. “So?”

“So what?”

Rolling his eyes, “Go on a date with me? Columbus has some nice restaurants, plenty to give you a reason to get all dolled up and looking extra gorgeous.”

“Well if you put it that way, I’d love to, Werenski.”

[guide-to-dragons-blog]

1. Greet a Dragon with Respect

"Suuuummer, it's hooooooot!"

It was summer in Pine Valley, meaning that there was an annual early heatwave. It's ridiculously hot for June, which is normal but still stupid, considering how we lived next to a massive pine forest. According to Summer, pine trees grow better in wet, cold climates, except for this one obscure type that I've never bothered to remember the name of. I leave that sort of nerd thing to Summer.

"I know," she agreed, fanning herself with the book she's abandoned. That's how you know it's serious: Summer never puts down a book she likes except under extreme circumstances. Sometimes I wonder how I ended up friends with a bookworm like her. "I could ask my parents if we can go to the pool?"

"Hey, yeah! That's a great- Mmmm..." I squinted at her from under the arm shielding my eyes. Her glasses glinted in the sun. "There'll be a lot of people," I warned.

Summer frowned, crossing her legs uncomfortably. "I'll be fine. There won't be that many people." I've never exactly gotten her deal with people. She's funny and super smart, so she'd be really popular if she'd just open up. It might've also helped if I wasn't her best friend, but whatever. I digress.

"This ain't exactly Cali, dude. No one has a pool in their backyard." It gets too cold in the winter for that. "Everyone will be at the public one."

She scowled. "I hate it when you're right. I thought I was supposed to be the reasonable one here. You're supposed to be the daredevil who gets us in trouble."

"The heat's fried your brain," I teased, reaching out to poke her knee. The brunette seemed to frown harder. We got quiet again, trying to think of other ways to get out of the heat. I let my eyes drift over to the left, coming to stare at the forest looming in the distance. Hmm. Lots of tall, thick trees all bunched together in one place, which means lots of shade. Not to mention the breeze and-

I sat up quickly, startling her into dropping her book. "That's it! The lake!" I rushed into the house, grinning wildly. This had to be my best idea yet.

"The lake?" Summer echoed, running after me. Incredulously,sthe said, "You mean the lake in the middle of the off-limits woods?"

"Unless you know any other lakes around here," I chirped cheerfully, grabbing my bag and darting into the bathroom to grab a towel. I poked my head out to look at her. "Think your parents would mind if I stole one of your towels?"

"To go swimming in the off-limits lake? Yes, I think they would," she drawled, crossing her arms disapprovingly. "Really, Cascade, I know you have this whole 'daredevil' thing going on, but don't you think this is stretching it? I mean..." She shifted from mother hen to nervous wreck, glancing out the window worriedly. "Those fences are there for a reason, you know."

I stopped shoving the two towels into the bag to lean on the counter and gave her a flat stare. "What, you mean the dragons that live there?"

It was sort of a town joke/superstition. The founder, a guy named Christian Dike, came here when he was run out of his old town. He found a couple of nice people to help him make a new settlement here and thus, Pine Valley was born. However, according to some of his old journals, the nice people weren't the only ones who helped him make it. Dike claimed that somewhere in the woods was an entire lair of dragons who helped construct the place, so the woods were off-limits, apparently to give them their privacy or whatever. There were a few weirdos who believed it and either stayed away from it or went searching, but most people just stayed out because of all the wild animals likely running around.

Summer flushed and scowled at me. "You know that's not the reason! There's just too much wilderness. We could get hurt! Or worse, we could get caught!"

"...How is that worse than getting hurt?"

"Permanent records Cascade. You can't get into a good college with a criminal record!"

I sighed, walking over and grabbing her shoulders. "Summer. I know, like, seven people who have gone to that lake, and none of them have been caught. No police or anything ever goes in there, okay? Come on, it's just for an hour or something. Don't you wanna be cool?" I enticed, grinning again. I could see the struggle in her eyes. Any minute now she was gonna break.

With a long-suffering groan, her resolve disintegrated, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Alright, alright, you win! Let's go swim in the forbidden lake." She shot me a dirty look when I started dancing in celebration. "Dad was right about you. You're a terrible influence," she informed me.

I cackled, crooning, "But a fun one~ C'mon, let's go grab your suit!" She let me dance past her up the stairs, sighing loudly behind me. I looked at the pictures on the wall leading up, grinning at the little family. More than a few of them were dorky pictures of Summer and I growing up.

Summer's room was at the very end of the hall, cut off by a girlishly decorated door. Summer had been meaning to take off some of the stickers for years, but somehow it never happened (it was entirely my fault. I distracted her every time she talked about it until she just gave up). The room itself was much more mature, with bare pale blue walls save for bookshelves. She had a twin bed with a plain navy blue blanket, a white fluffy blanket, and two blue and white striped pillows. She had a nightstand at the left side with a small lamp. Her dresser was white and not very big, across the room from her door. She had a floor to ceiling bookshelf full of books, and one of the shelves was full of baubles and trinkets she adored. She also had a work desk she used to read and do any sort of work at, with a tall lamp to the right of it.

As I leafed through her drawers, I considered the old rumor. It would be pretty cool if dragons were real. When I was younger, I constantly pretended to be a dragon or to see dragons. My shelves were lined with tons of books ranging from rpg guides to stories about them. It drove my aunt and uncle crazy for a while, but at least I was easy to shop for. If there really were dragons in the forest, I wanted to meet them.

Of course, I'd come to the realization years ago that dragons and such didn't actually exist, so like all children I gave up on that dream and just thought back on them with fondness.

"I can look for my own suit, you know," Summer chimed, watching me from her bed.

"Yeah, I know, but I got up here first, so therefor I get to rifle through your drawers." I peeked at her over my shoulder, grinning evilly. "What'sa matter, Summer? Got something scandalous in here?" I teased.

Summer flushed at the taunt, scowling at me. She reached out and grabbed an empty Sprite bottle off the floor (oops, I probably left that the last time I was here) and chucked it at me as I cackled again. I turned back and grabbed the article of clothing I was looking for, tossing it at her. "There we go. Go change and we're all set!"

"Aren't you forgetting your suit, smart one?" Summer snarked, grabbing the suit as she stood up.

"Nah, I'll just go in this," I replied, gesturing to my tee-shirt and shorts. "House is too far away for walking to right now."

Summer sighed and headed for the bathroom, leaving me to myself. Humming idly, I headed downstairs, rummaging through the fridge for something to drink. They always had extra water bottles in the very bottom during summer so we could stay hydrated. It was very convenient for when we wanted to go places but it was hot out. Grabbing a pair of bottles, I hurried up the stairs, depositing them in the bag.

Summer emerged just then, an orange tee-shirt pulled on over her top and sandals on her feet. She raised an eyebrow at the bottles, clearly not having expected that I be the responsible one. I shrugged. "I had nothing else to do."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head at me. "Whatever you say, Cascade. Are we ready?"

"When you are!" I confirmed, shouldering the bag with a grin. We headed down the stairs together, a spring in my step and carefully hidden excitement in hers. As rule-oriented as Summer was, she was still my friend, and anyone crazy enough to stick with me for as long as she had needed a little bit of an adventurous streak.

It might have been my imagination, but I think it actually got hotter in the short while we had headed in. I was sweating about as soon as I stepped out. We might have started running to the trees if not for the fact that it was too hot to do more than trudge miserably down the road, wishing it was just a little bit cooler.

We couldn't reach the fence fast enough. The fence was at least eight feet high, which was definitely taller than me or Summer. It had been put up by Dike way back when to keep people out and it had stayed there, mostly because the people in town were too lazy to take it down. Nowadays it served as a deterrent to delinquents and lawbreakers, not that it did much to stop them. Maybe they should set up an electric fence instead.

"How are we gonna get over that?" Summer whispered, eyeing the metal warily.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "There's this thing that we can do called climbing, and it helps people get over things like this."

She glared at me for a moment, which I simply beamed at cheerfully, and then the look melted into the familiar pane of anxiety. "You know, maybe this is a bad idea. I mean, they have a fence and signs up for a reason, you know? Maybe there really is something big in there that we don't want to meet."

It was obvious that we weren't going to get anywhere like this, so I sighed and squared my shoulders. I took a few steps back, catching her relieved face, and planted my feet. Relief was replaced with confusion as I grabbed the straps of the bag with both hands, eyeing the top of the fence with a determined set to my jaw. Horrified realization hit her as I began to swing my arms, building up as much momentum as I could. Before she had a chance to say anything, I gave it one last swing and let it fly. The bag sailed up, up, up... and landed with a satisfying thunk on the other side of the fence.

I gave her a smug grin and swaggered back up to the fence, reaching up to grip the first few links. Summer made a sputtering noise as I hefted myself up, carefully scaling the cold obstruction. The metal dug uncomfortably into my palms and knees but I ignored it in favor of reaching the top of the wall. I was just trying to work my way over the fence when Summer finally found her wits again and yelled, "Please be careful Cascade! Falls from that height could really hurt you!"

"Summer my dear, I think you forget that I am the same person who once climbed up to your window after it rained. I'm not gonna fall," I yelled down at her, swinging my legs over so I was hanging from the top. I began to casually work my way down, smiling at her triumphantly. "See? What'd I tell you? You got nothing to worry about, I'm a natural-"

My foot slipped.

Summer screamed as I dropped the last four of five feet, landing hard on my back. I stared up at the overhanging branches, my head spinning and heart pounding. I expected to be significantly more winded and in more pain than what I was, and then I felt the squishy thing beneath me. Rolling over, I found that I'd landed on the bag, which was noticeably more compact than it had been.

"Are you okay?" Summer asked desperately, clinging hard to the fence and watching me with worry.

"Surprisingly, yes," I replied, grinning again as I reached out to pat the trusty bag. "Luckily I had this convenient bag to break my fall."

She let out a deep breath, face contorting into a mix of anger and relief. "You are so lucky that bag caught you Cascade. You could have broken something! I swear, when I get over there I'm going to throttle you! How dare you make me worry!"

"So you're coming over?" I asked impishly, grinning as she gave an irritated groan and began clumsily scaling the fence. My amusement waned a little as I watched her. It was fine when I did it, but Summer didn't have the experience that I did. It would be even easier for her to hurt herself. I couldn't stop myself from coaching her a little. "Keep your body closer to the fence. I know it's a little uncomfortable, but it'll help you hang on better."

"Cascade," she said in a mock-surprised voice, sounding out of breath already. "Are you... worried about... me? I'm a n-natural," she huffed, shaking as her hand slipped a bit. She was almost to the top.

"Ha ha, you're so funny, now stop talking and focus on where you're putting your hands. Your dad may be a doctor, but I'm not. If you crack your skull open you're toast," I threatened, subconsciously raising my hands as though to catch her.

"You know, you're.... You're not making this any easier," she huffed, pausing at the top to catch her breath. "You're actually kind of making this worse."

"I could just start making my way to the lake if that makes you feel better," I replied carelessly, reaching down to grab the bag and sling it back over my shoulder.

Her eyes grew wide, grip turning white-knuckled with terror. "You wouldn't dare," she hissed, leaning forward slightly.

I hid my evil grin and turned away, taking a few joking steps into the forest. Her dismayed squawk sent me giggling and I turned back, dropping the bag again. "I'm insulted. You look like you were actually expecting me to leave you here!" I teased, stepping back over and craning my head back to look up at her.

Summer looked like she was actually debating the benefits of throttling me once she found a way to get down. I just smiled at her sweetly and made a "come hither" motion, eager to get back on the way. The heat was sinking in once again and I wanted to get going. She sighed heavily and began descending, thankfully without any of the issues I had.

As soon as her feet touched ground she whirled around and punched my arm, which might have had more of an impact if not for the fact that it lacked any strength. I clutched my arm theatrically and wailed, "Ah, oh no! The pain, the pain! It hurts so much! I may never recover again!"

"I will hit you again, and this time it will hurt," Summer grumbled, snatching the bag and stomping into the forest ahead of me.

I laughed and hurried to catch up to her, taking the lead. I had only been to the lake once before this, but the way was clear. Other teens had left convenient little hints that you could find if you payed attention: a blue scarf tied around a tree, a carved arrow or a spray-painted picture, things like that. Summer frowned at a few of them, muttering about laws and the environment. I sighed good-naturedly, more amused with her mumbled tirade than anything else.

Walking in the forest brought a strange feeling of peace to me. Maybe it was just the massive difference in temperature now that we were in the shade, or the gentle breeze, but whatever it was, it felt really nice just to walk through here. I think Summer felt the same, because the longer we walked the quieter her complaints got. I glanced back to see that she was staring up at the trees serenely, looking right at home.

A particularly strong breeze stole my attention, bringing the scent of water our way. Grinning at Summer, I broke into a run, beckoning her to do the same. The trees stopped abruptly, fading from grass to sand. The lake stretched out into the distant set of mountains, glimmering in the summer heat.

I laughed and paused just long enough to slip off my shoes before I was charging into the water. Cold water splashed up around my legs, soaking me almost instantly. I ducked under the water, relishing in the feeling of water rushing around me. I resurfaced, turning around to see Summer standing on the bank still, watching me with a grin. "Well don't just stand there silly, come in! The water feels amazing!" I called, waving her in excitedly.

She set the bag down and pulled off the top, wading into the water hesitantly and shivering at the sudden temperature change. I rolled my eyes again-they were really getting a workout today it seemed-and swam closer, watching her with unimpressed eyes. She looked down at the water hesitantly. "This doesn't look very clean, Cascade. Is is alright to go swimming in it?"

"Of course it is. This is what we're supposed to swim in, Summer! Not those shallow pools of chlorinated water, but real, pure lake water! Filled with fish and crawdads and natural life!" I enthused, laughing as I splashed her playfully and she shied away.

"Sometimes I think you were a fish in your past life," Summer commented, finally wading in deeper than her waist. She sighed as the water flowed over her shoulders, giving me a shy grin. "You're right though, this does feel really nice."

I grinned, reaching out to pull her further into the lake. "See? Now aren't you glad that I talked you into this?"

"Yes, yes, I get it," she replied, giggling as she began to tread water. A devious look entered her eyes and she brought her hands up, slapping them into the water forcefully. I yelped, trying in vain to shield myself from her assault. She smiled evilly. "That's for the fence, Cade." "Oh, is that how it's gonna be? I hope you know what you're getting into!" I cackled, initiating the Great Splash War.

We played around for about fifteen minutes, laughing as we dunked one another. When we got tired, Summer moved back to shore to laze on her towel while I floated. I swam out into the darker parts of the lake and ducked under, swimming down as far as I could go and peering around me. The water was clearer down at the bottom, easily letting me see all the different kinds of fish and lake species. I trailed my hands through the fronds on the bottom and swam up for air.

I glanced around, noticing that I'd drifted out much farther than intended, and quickly began heading back to shore. Summer was reading yet again, lounging in the shade as she dried off. I chuckled and hurried back over, intending to rope her into a game of Marco Polo.

The day had other plans though. As soon as I had stumbled back onto land, unused to the sudden heaviness in my limbs, I heard someone yell in the direction we'd come from. I stiffened, eyes going wide as I heard them tromping through the undergrowth. The voice was older and gruff, so there was definitely no hope that it was another teenager coming to enjoy the lake on a hot summer day.

Summer looked up at me, panicked. They were awfully close now. "What should we do?" she whisper-yelled, staggering to her feet and gripping my sleeve anxiously.

"We make a run for it!" I replied, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the trees again.

"W-wait a minute, Cascade, what about the towels?" Summer yelped, trying to tug her wrist out of my grip.

I stifled a groan. "We don't have time for that right now! We gotta get out of here! We'll get them later!"

"Th-those are my mom's favorite though!"

"Permanent record Summer."

That shut her up.

Sticks and stones dug into my exposed feet, branches ripping at my hair. I growled, making a note to ask Aunt Julie for a haircut later. The man had given chase it sounded like, possibly following the sound of our less-than-graceful retreat. He kept yelling things like "get back here!" and "you're in a lot of trouble youngsters!" and "wait until your parents here about this!"

I was tiring fast, and from the way Summer kept stumbling and lagging, I figured it was the same for her. We had to change tactics somehow. Instead of running, maybe we should try hiding. My eyes narrowed as I scanned the forest for a decent nook to lose him in. I had no idea anymore where I was, only that it was much farther into the forest than most people generally went.

The was a flash of grey in the corner of my vision. I whipped my head around, quickly glancing over it. It looked like it was some kind of stone cave, relatively low to the ground, but hiding there would provide a little bit of cover. Breathing hard, I changed course and made a beeline for the cave, Summer yelping in surprise behind me. I dragged her with me into the darkness.

Unfortunately, the ground was not flat. It slanted abruptly, making a semi-steep slope. My feet slipped on a rock and suddenly I was sliding down into an even darker part of the cave, Summer tumbling after me. We landed in a stunned tangle of limbs at the bottom of the incline, breathing frantic. I glanced up, listening to the sound of heavy boots crashing through the bushes. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling Summer cling to my arm desperately.

The footsteps stopped overhead. The man cursed and I heard a loud rustle, like he was rifling through a bag or his pockets. A glowing circle of light hit the wall across from us, dancing around the dirt. The man sighed heavily and the light disappeared again as I heard the man mutter, "I'm gettin' too old for things like this..." He set off into the forest again, leaves crunching as he went.

Summer and I sat in silence until we couldn't hear him any more, at which point I began laughing maniacally, not caring that the cackling echoed down the cave. Summer didn't seem to share my hysterics, clutching her heart and breathing heavily. She looked like her whole life was flashing before her eyes. When she recovered, she smacked my arm, only succeeding in making me laugh harder. "Cascade! This isn't funny! We were almost caught!" she hissed, glaring at me furiously. "Would you please stop laughing already?"

"I-I'm sorry," I choked out, not sorry at all. "I-I... I just- I can't believe that h-happened." Summer continued to stew in silence, arms crossed, while I got my breathing back under control, sighing deeply. I brushed a tear from my eye. "Whew, man, that was a rush!"

"I am never letting you talk me into anything ever again," Summer stated hotly, gesturing wildly with her arms. "Look at us! We're disgusting! And trespassing! If that man had put just a little more effort into his search, we would have been toast."

I glanced down at myself thoughtfully. I was coated in dirt and still dripping lake water, twigs and leaves clung to my clothes, and my hair was a helpless mess of tangles and weeds. I noticed for the first time that my feet hurt pretty badly and my legs were scraped up. "Hmm. Maybe next time we should pack an extra set of clothes."

"No Cascade, you will not pack an extra set of clothes, because there will not be a next time! There will never be a next time because it's illegal and dangerous and-" Her tirade stopped abruptly, eyes going wide as she peered into the cave. Her voice dropped several levels as she whispered, "Did you hear that?"

"I couldn't hear anything over the sound of you yelling at me," I replied drily, frowning at her. "Really, Summer, you need to lighten up. Worrying is bad fo-"

She clapped a hand over my mouth. "Shh! Listen!"

I gave her an exasperated glare but did as I was told, listening to the silence in the cave. It took a moment, but I was suddenly aware of a strange noise, like something was dragging along the walls. The weird noise was accompanied by an eerie rattling, like someone had taken a handful of bones and shaken them.

Summer whimpered. From deep within the darkness came a low rumble in reply, and suddenly the dragging noise got louder. I spotted a brief flicker of light far out in front of us, catching the outline of... something really big. The ground began to tremble slightly as whatever it was grew closer.

Heart humming in my ears, I turned to Summer and whispered, "We gotta get out of here. Hurry up the slope as fast as you can."

She nodded fearfully, struck mute with terror. Despite my instructions to move quickly, she stood up slowly and began trying to scramble up the mound behind us. It was a lot steeper than I first thought, apparently. I looked away from her progress to eye the thing coming closer. Another burst of light briefly revealed horns and an angular head, and now I could make out a pair of gleaming red eyes. They didn't need any light to shine, glowing with a violent inner fire. I turned back to Summer franticly. "Hurry it up Sum, that thing's almost here!"

"You try c-climbing this any faster," she stammered, scrambling with renewed vigor.

"Here, let's do this." I turned, twining my fingers together, making a little basket out of my hands. "Hurry up and climb," I ushered urgently, sparing another look at the creature-it couldn't be what I wanted to call it, that was impossible-and frowned. It was sure taking its sweet time eating us.

"A-are you sure? I don't want to hurt you," she worried.

"Summer, I'm a little bit more concerned with the giant animal coming to eat us than with you standing on my hands."

"F-fair enough." She lightly put her foot on my joined palms, grabbing my shoulders to stabilize herself.

The creature seemed to take that as its cue, letting out a low bellow as it released a steady stream of fire. Summer's scream overlapped mine as we cowered against the wall, feeling the searing heat flood the small area. It was even hotter than the summer sun outside. I could have sworn I felt some hairs singe.

Either it had awful aim or it wasn't trying to barbecue us, because when the actual fire stopped flying we were miraculously unharmed, if not very shaken. Instead, a previously-unseen torch was flickering steadily on either wall, illuminating the immediate area and the creature that had just given us a heart attack.

The creature was so tall that its long, pearly white horns scraped the ceiling. Its body was long and pitch back, with very obvious muscles and dangerously curved claws. It was littered with bones, which meant that my guess earlier had been right. Finishing it off was the malicious pair of blood-red eyes and a spine of white spikes that could easily be mistaken for more bones. It was the most metal thing I'd ever seen and I might have been a little in love, but this also proved one other thing.

It was undeniably a dragon.

Dragons were real.

"Summer," I whispered, staring up at it in awe. "Summer that's a freaking dragon."

Summer made a nonsensical whimpering noise, looking like she was going to either pass out or cry, or maybe both.

The dragon seemed almost smug as it leaned down, bringing its head within touching distance. I was very tempted to reach out and stroke its scaled nose, but somehow I got the impression that it would bite off my hand. Its lips pulled back, revealing a full maw of impossibly sharp teeth, each of them probably a little bigger than my forearm, and it growled threateningly.

My nose scrunched up as the hot air rushed over my face and I raised my arm to cover my nose. "Whoa, dude, your breath reeks. Have you ever heard of dental hygiene? Some mouthwash might do you some good."

In hindsight, insulting a giant beast of legend that was six or seven times my size was probably a really bad idea, but current me wasn't thinking of that. Current me was just thinking that the giant dragon really needed a good flossing, because I was pretty sure I could see bits of its last meal sticking out of its teeth.

The dragon didn't seem to take that so well, because it opened it massive mouth, roared in my face, and lunged toward me.