#and currently birdsong is taking up one of my concentrations

[isenstar777]

Does spoons theory cover concentration? Or is there an equivalent for concentration?

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Bee Stings and Butterfly Kisses || SV5

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x wife!reader Summary: Your husband takes nesting to a whole new level with the paradise he’s found to start his family. Warnings: established relationship, pregnant!reader, fluffiness WC: 1.4k

The property Sebastian had chosen to raise his children upon was everything you could have dreamt of and more. There were rolling meadows full of fragrant flowers, forests of conifers and evergreens, and even a lake with an abundance of trout. The house he had designed was built using recycled material and was sustainable to run with the dozens of solar panels on the roof. He had truly future proofed everything to live a life as environmentally friendly as possible.

“Did you know honey is the only food that doesn’t spoil if you store it properly?” Sebastian barely looked up from the old set of drawers he was upcycling into an apiary. “There were pots of honey found in ancient tombs in Egypt, around 3000 years old.”

“I still don't see why we need bees at our home.”

“Because, my love,” he said as he placed his hammer down and pulled you into his arms, “this is our future we are building. Without bees there’s no pollination, with no pollination there’s no flowers, or fruit and vegetables.” His hand splayed across your swollen belly, feeling his son’s kicks against his palm with a smile. “It’s our responsibility to protect our future.”

The outdoor sofa where you were reading was a current favourite place of yours. It was tranquil and warm and allowed you to get off your feet for a little bit while your husband pottered around in the garden. With only a few weeks to your due date everything ached from your neck to your ankles so you kicked your feet up and listened to the birdsong.

The hiss of pain was one you had come to know well recently and it only took a minute for Seb to appear at the edge of the garden, the metal gate squeaking on its rusted hinge. He cupped one hand over his cheek, one eye closed with a wince as he ascended the stairs to the deck.

“You wouldn’t get stung if you used the smoke, love,” you softly reminded him as he took a seat and pulled his hand away. “Oh dear, that���s a big one.”

“We don’t know the long term effect the smoke has on them, it could be poisoning them,” he said as he turned his head so you could use your nails to pull the stinger out without squeezing more toxin into his cheek. “They will recognise me soon and realise I’m not going to hurt them.”

“If you say so.” You loved your husband but you weren’t so sold on the trust building exercise he found himself in. More often than not after going to check the beehive you found yourself in this position, grateful he wasn’t allergic. “How is your queen doing?”

His lips pulled up into a smile and he sat down on the edge of the seat, pulling your feet onto his lap and massaging your swollen ankles. “You tell me, my sweet, how are you doing?”

Emotions swelled in your chest and you cursed as he laughed, leaning closer to wipe away the tear that escaped. “Damn these hormones. You should really stop being so nice so my poor tear ducts can have a break. Can’t you just be a jerk?” His laugh grew and with it the kicks increased. “Yes, yes, daddy’s laughing at me.”

“I would never laugh at your mother,” he chuckled, lifting your shirt to press his lips to your belly. Stretch marks littered the skin and you dared not to think about the other changes that you couldn’t see below the swell, but he still made you feel beautiful. “Everything she is going through is my fault.”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a smile. “Daddy spent a lot of time romancing and seducing me, and now here you are.”

Seb looked up, his long hair hanging in naturally soft waves around his face. “How could I not? You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I could hardly concentrate on the race after seeing you.”

“It couldn't have affected you too much,” you said as you tucked his hair behind his ear, “you still won.”

“I had to make a good impression somehow, since I could barely speak a word when we were introduced,” he admitted as he looked out over the garden he tendered.

You followed his gaze knowing he was going to be a great father considering the care he gave to the garden, and you. “It was your eyes I fell for anyway, they looked sweet and kind.”

The rows of plants were just flowering and you traced them to see the little bursts of yellows that all too soon would become bright red ripe tomatoes. Next were the beans, too many varieties to count, all climbing the trellis Seb had made from the wood of fallen trees in the forest. Further beyond were your favourites, the bushes that were brimming with berries of every flavour. Each morning you would amble your way to them with Seb and a bowl, pointing out the juiciest looking berries for him to pick for your smoothie.

Patting his good cheek, you shuffled to sit up and swing your legs off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

With a groan you pulled yourself to your feet and rubbed the straining skin at your sides. “To get some ice to stop that swelling,” you said as you pointed to his face. “You need to be able to see properly if you are thinking about getting back in a race car this weekend.”

“I can get it, you rest.” He followed you into the house even after catching the roll of your eyes and watched you struggle to bend down to reach the ice tray at the bottom of the freezer. Unable to stop himself, his hands caught your waist and straightened you up before he grabbed the tray. “I don’t want you hurting yourself,” he said with a kiss to your temple.

“I said the same thing, but you still went and got stung.”

“But that’s because I have you to kiss me better.”

You smiled at the softness in his tone and gave him the gentlest of kisses to his swollen cheek, barely the touch of a butterfly's wing. “There, is that better?”

“Yes, I don’t even need this anymore,” he said as he turned to put the tray away until you stopped him with an amused look.

“Nurburgring,” you reminded him, grabbing a tea towel to wrap the ice cubes in.

He had been excited since he got the call from Christian Horner to drive the historic track, and in a car modified to run on eco-friendly fuel no less. He was not going to do anything to miss the opportunity to return to the racetrack, even though he enjoyed retirement and the quiet life he had built in the rural settlement. So, he quietly accepted the ice pack and carefully pressed it to his cheek.

“It’s a dangerous track, Seb,” you murmured as you took over holding it, cradling his other cheek with your palm. “Please be safe and come home in one piece.”

His hands came to rest on your stomach, nearly covering it all as he splayed his fingers apart. “Of course, my love. And you need to stay in one piece until I get home.”

You giggled and felt the strong kick responding to his voice. “I have a feeling your son will take his time. Would you resort to one of those dreadful planes if he decides to come early?”

His lips twitched in amusement, used to your jibing over the consciousness of his carbon footprint. “I could probably drive home faster, with a few speeding tickets along the way, but I might be able to lower myself to boarding a plane for him.”

“Ah, that’s a father’s love,” you giggled. “He doesn’t even know what a sacrifice that would be.”

Sebastian lowered the ice pack so he could dip his head and kiss you. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the two of you.”

“Except get rid of the bees.”

His lips curled against yours in a smile you felt. “Except that.”

[calypso707]

hey i adore your writing!

i was wondering how astarion would take care of his s/o who suffers from migraines and severe photosensitivity. my friends always call me a vampire because of it so i thought it’d be a funny dynamic 😆

this one is actually funny because i suffer from migraines as well, so here we are! I don't know if I'm proud of what I've written, but it was fun to do! enjoy! ❤

OS - Astarion x gn drow reader : Simple things.

Living on the surface had proved more complicated than the Underdark. Being born, growing up and spending a significant part of your life in the darkness had certainly had its advantages, but now that you were living on the surface, you realised just how different things were. Whether it was people's lifestyles or all those bright colours. So yes, there were bright colours in the Underdark, but they were often signs of danger, such as explosive mushrooms or plants releasing deadly spores.

You may have been used to the dark and could see in the night better than your companions, but constant exposure to the sun had its drawbacks. So, sure, it was nice to feel the light warming your skin, you could now appreciate things like the colour of the sky, listen to birdsong or even hear the sound of the wind, but your eyes still couldn't handle so much brightness. And on top of that, you had a tadpole in your skull that was not only making its own little nest but was also giving you migraines on a regular basis.

But you still tried to stay positive, because thanks to all the adventures you'd been through, however farfetched, you'd met your current companions, who had turned out to be loyal allies and faithful friends.

And above all, you had met Astarion.

A magnificient two-century-old vampire.

It was almost poetic, two beings of darkness who found themselves having to survive under the sun. So what was it between you two? It was a tricky question, but you cared about him as much as he cared about you, and knowing that was more than enough. Though, Astarion was handling the conditions and opportunities this adventure offered him better than you were. He had always loved sunbathing as soon as the first lights appeared. You enjoyed them too, but in small doses.

While you were enjoying a moment's respite from this chaotic and probably deadly mission, you had given yourselves a break and were strolling through the alleys of Baldur's Gate. Astarion was describing the things his former master, Cazador Szarr, had made him do, a certain bitterness in his voice. You tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but the sun was at its zenith, there were no clouds in the sky to dim its brightness and you felt as if your eyes were burning and your skull was splitting in two.

"Are you even listening when I am talking to you?", grumbled Astarion.

"Sorry… Can we take a short break?" you asked, using your hand to shade your eyes as you looked at him.

"My dear, are you sure that you are not a vampire?" said Astarion with a smirk.

"Hilarious" you sighed.

You took a few steps into the shadow under a stall on the main street leading to the Wyrm's Rock fortress. Astarion was looking at you with a slightly concerned expression; he seemed to be thinking.

"Hm.. I think I have an idea. Stay put." It was almost an order.

Before you could reply, he was heading off into "Carm's Garm" shop. You wondered what had gone through his mind. You decided to wait for him and you leaned against the stone wall behind you, watching the passers-by go about their business, carefree. You listened the trout seller shouting about how fresh his fish were and the wholesaler who was delighted with his harvest.

Long minutes passed, during which you examined everyone who passed in the street. You didn't hear Astarion come back, and you were startled when he cleared his throat once he was beside you. You looked at him and noticed that he was holding several hats under his arms. You tried to hide your smile but it was complicated.

"Let's see…" He put the pile of accessories at his feet and picked up a first hat and placed it on your head. It was a sort of pointy wizard's hat with hideous embroidery that went all the way around, and before you could even give your opinion, Astarion took it off, shaking his head and frowning. "Awful"

He then picked up a sort of adjustable steel helmet, and didn't even take the time to let you try it on before he tossed it aside, doing the same with a brightly coloured top hat. Finally, he took a simple brown hat with silver wings embroidered on the stiff leather and placed it on your head as gently as possible. The brim of the hat was wide enough to keep your face in the shade.

He stood back and examined you for a few seconds, his index finger resting on his chin: "Hm.. I think this one will do, darling. Of course, I still am the fashion icon of our group, but I can assure you you are not far from it now."

You readjusted your hat slightly and took a long look at him, biting your lower lip to hold back your smile. You were pleasantly surprised by his gesture and his words made you chuckle. Astarion moved closer to you and put his hands on your shoulders, pressing them lightly as you put yours against his chest.

"I am impressed, so you are able to do sweet things." you said.

"Sweet? What an idea" He grinned before tilting his head to the side, a thin smile on his lips. "It just should not be so unbearable to enjoy the simple things of life."

And he was right.

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thanks for reading this OS, i hope you liked it!

don't hesitate to read my other writings on Astarion! ❤

Astarion x gn druid tav : On your skin.

Astarion x gn tav : No place for love.

Astarion x gn tav : A thousand thanks.

Fiction - Astation x fem!tav bard : Fruit of The Poisonned Tree

[magpie-to-the-morning]

Sundress Season

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.5k

Tags: Fluff, Domestic af, Hurt/Comfort, Nothing major the Reader got some scratches gardening and Frankie is Concerned, p in v sex, wrap it before you tap it, Size Kink, Sort Of, Exhibitionism, If You Squint, A little, Dirty Talk, mostly just tooth-rotting fluff (plus a little loving smut),Triple Frontier, Frankie “Catfish” Morales, Domestic, Gardening, Outdoor Sex, No Beta

Summary: You and Frankie have just moved into a farmhouse fixer upper and are enjoying the first warm day of spring. A lazy afternoon nap turns into something... more.

Read on Ao3

Leaning the shovel against the white picket fence, you stand back to take an appraising look at your handiwork, squinting against the midday sun. You’ve taken advantage of one of the first truly warm days of spring to plant some blackberry bushes along the boundary of your new home. Sweat slides down your spine and you can already feel a dull ache spreading through your calves and along your forearms, but you toss aside your leather work gloves with a grin, proud of your morning’s work. You brush your hair away from your face with the back of an arm, leaving a trace of dirt along your forehead. “Frankie, come look.”

“One sec.” His answer is muffled, even considering it’s coming from inside the old farmhouse the two of you have just moved into, and you realize he must still be working on the kitchen sink.

You enter the house, surprisingly cool and dim after the sunny warmth outside, and walk to the kitchen. Frankie’s legs jut out from beneath the sink, and all you can see of him are his work boots, khaki pants, and a glimpse of his soft stomach where the rusty red t-shirt he’s wearing has ridden up. You lean against a nearby counter, the smooth stone lip pressing into your lower back, and smile down fondly at him. “How’s the sink coming?”

The house is a dream come true for both of you, but it’s also needed a ton of work both inside and out. You’ve already sanded floors, patched up creaking stairs, painted most of the rooms, and ripped out overgrown hedges that had threatened to take over the yard. Once you’d cleared them out, the yard and gardens became an invitingly open canvas, just waiting for you to make your own.

The two of you had spent several late winter evenings curled up in front of the stone hearth, seed catalogs and plant nursery order slips laid out in front of you, arguing pleasantly over how to cram in every plant both of you want. You’re determined to line the yard with fruit trees and shrubs, while Frankie is surprisingly invested in the beds where he plans to cultivate tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, and a variety of herbs. At least you both agreed to leave the large, well-established lilac trees bookending the house, and you’re currently waiting to see who will win the bet about what color the sprawling, thorn-covered rose bushes will be. You’re hoping for a buttery yellow to complement the lilacs, while Frankie is holding out hope that they’ll be the same pale pink as the roses he’d brought you for one of your first dates.

This morning, just when the two of you had made plans to tackle some of the new plantings, the kitchen drain had backed up. You’d decided that job would be better handled by Frankie and headed out to start the landscaping yourself. “Almost there, I just need to…” Frankie’s deep in concentration, and you swear you can almost see him sticking the tip of his tongue out as he focuses. There’s a final sound of metal scraping against metal, followed by a victorious “ha! Try it now.”

“You sure? I don’t want to soak you.”

A muted huff echoes from the space below the sink. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Ok,” you shrug. “Just don’t blame me if you get a faceful of water.” You turn the tap on slowly and watch as the water spirals easily down the drain. “Hey, you did it!”

Frankie braces a hand along the top of the cabinet and pulls himself to his feet. “Don’t sound so surprised,” he teases. “Told you I could do it.”

“My hero,” you say lightly, crossing the floor to kiss his smiling cheek. His scruff scrapes lightly against your face, and you find yourself lingering, especially when he captures your lips for a proper kiss. “Now I can wash some of this dirt off- I feel like I brought half the yard in.” After the hours you spent planting various shrubs and a few small fruit trees, your arms are streaked with dry soil.

“Here, let me help you.”

Frankie steps behind you, his broad form leaning against yours as you stand at the newly repaired sink. His thighs press lightly against your own as his arms encircle your waist. He leans his chin on your shoulder and his messy curls brush against your ear while he begins to run soap over your forearms. You laugh, his efforts mostly just splashing dirty water around, but the cool water is a welcome relief. “Frankie! I can do it myself.”

You can feel him smiling against your neck. “I know, I just- oh.” His voice turns suddenly soft, with a note of worry.

“What is it?”

“Baby, you hurt yourself.” He steps alongside you, examining the delicate skin of your inner arm with a concerned frown. “What happened?”

“What?” You look down and see a few thin, angry red lines streaking the length of your forearms. “Oh, it’s nothing. The blackberry branches were thorny, that’s all.” You’d been wearing one of Frankie’s flannels for a little extra protection, but it had grown too hot and you’d stripped down to just your t-shirt. “It’s fine, they’ll heal fast.”

Despite your reassurance, Frankie ducks into the bathroom while you pat your arms dry with a clean dish towel and comes back holding some ointment. “They’ll heal better with this.” He flips open the cap and looks up, seeking permission.

You nod, unwilling to deny him anything, especially with that melting brown gaze trained on you. It’s not necessary, but you have to admit- you love that he takes such good care of you. Frankie takes his time, gently stroking a dab of ointment over each small scratch. His light touch quickly takes the sting out of your small hurts, and when he’s finished you catch his hands, bring them up to your lips for a grateful kiss. You adore his hands- so much bigger than your own, strong and capable but still so deft. He ducks his head and smiles and your heart clenches with love for this quiet, loving man.

------- After changing out of your dirt-streaked jeans and into a clean sundress (which, of course, Frankie also offered to help with), you head back to the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge. The cold glass bottle begins beading almost at once, and you hold it against your slightly sunburnt neck. “I was going to go read in the yard for a bit, care to join me?”

“I’ve got a couple more things to finish up here, you go ahead.” Frankie drops a kiss to your temple as you pass, on your way to get a book and an old quilt to spread out on.

“Ok, see you in a bit.” The old screen door swings shut behind you, bouncing slightly before it catches the latch. A project for another day, you think. The two of you have already done plenty, and for now you just want to enjoy the rest of the sunny afternoon.

You spread your quilt out under a flowering magnolia tree which offers just the right amount of shade and lay down on your back. A light breeze stirs the green grass around you and sets the flowering tree branches swaying, a few pale pink petals raining down. Sunlight dapples your face as you relax, enjoying the surroundings of the garden you and Frankie are making together. The book is good, but you find yourself distracted, listening to nearby birdsong and watching billowing clouds scud across the bright blue sky. With the sun warm on your face, it’s not long before your eyelids are drooping.

-------

When you wake up, shadows are lengthening across the yard and Frankie is sprawled out next to you, having come out and dozed off at some point after you did. You lean into his shoulder, still warm from the heat of the sun, and smile against him. There’s a patch of skin just below his hairline and above his collar, and you lean in to kiss him just there. He tastes faintly of clean sweat and you press your tongue against him, seeking the slight taste of salt.

Frankie stirs and sleepily cracks one eye open. “Can I help you?” Try as he might to sound long-suffering, you suspect he enjoys your touch.

“Nope, I’m good.” You toss your book aside and drape yourself over his back, enjoying the slight movement below you as he shifts to accommodate you. It’s getting a little cooler now as the sun slips towards the horizon, but Frankie’s warm, solid presence grounds you. He tenses a little when you lean your head on his shoulder and you pull back at once. “Is your shoulder still bugging you?” He’d pulled it while you were moving and as hard as you try, you don’t always manage to wrest the heavier chores away from him, so it’s been a slow recovery process.

His answer rumbles quietly from below you. “A little. Working on the sink probably didn’t do it any favors.” You lean up at once, straddling his waist so you can massage his neck and shoulders. “Poor thing, you are tight here.”

He hums in agreement, though you can feel the tension begin to leak out of him as you knead his tense muscles. You work a stubborn knot, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder, and as he sighs you can feel him relax further.

You lean down once more, careful to put your weight on your hands, braced against the ground,  and drag your mouth lazily over his neck. Your seeking licks turning to more intent kisses and when your teeth close over his pulse point, Frankie lets out a low groan and bucks his hips. You feel the movement all through him, especially where you’re seated against his ass.

“You want me to stop?” You ask teasingly, getting the expected shake of his head in response. You grind slightly against him before returning to nose at his neck. By the time you trace the shell of his ear with your tongue and nip gently at the cartilage, Frankie has had enough.

He rolls the two of you over with a smooth motion that ends with you flat on your back, and him smiling above you. “Oh, are we done fooling around?” You look up playfully. “I can show you the blackberry bushes before-”

He stops your mouth with a kiss, nipping at your lower lip before licking his way into your mouth. Delight shivers through you and you deepen the kiss, your tongues tangling languidly. You run your hand through his tangled curls, scraping your nails against his scalp. This pulls a soft noise from low in Frankie’s throat as he leans into your touch. His nose brushes yours and he nudges your cheek, trails kisses down your jaw.

Heat is pooling low in your belly and you spread your legs to invite him closer. Frankie takes the hint, canting his hips to drag the growing bulge in his pants against your core while you push back into him. “We should head inside,” you gasp as he moves lower, sucking at the delicate skin of your neck.

“We can if you want, but who’s gonna see?” His large hands cup your breasts and he dips his head to brush kisses over their swells. You arch your back, desperate for his touch even as you look around cautiously. He has a point; there’s no neighbor on this side of the house, just a patch of woods, and you’re well back from the road.

“Good point.” You reach down to tug at the hem of his shirt. Grinning, he sits up for a moment to help you. As soon as he’s shirtless he gets straight back to the task at hand. Frankie’s fingers make quick work of the buttons running the length of your sundress and he pulls the fabric aside, exposing the creamy lace of your bra. Your stomach flips at the sweet, eager look on his face. You’ve been together so many times, but he always makes you feel special, cherished. Despite being outside, potentially exposed, you feel completely at ease in his arms.  

With a quick glance up to check that you’re ok with it, Frankie unclasps your bra and helps you shrug out of it. The air is slightly cooler now, but his warm, broad palms encompass your breasts before the chill can even register. You sigh as his thumb brushes your nipple, and downright shudder when he wraps his plush lips around the stiffening peak. Your legs are writhing almost of their own accord now as you grow desperate for more. “Frankie,” you groan, tugging at his hair.

You feel his lips curve into a smile and his tongue darts out to flick against you. It glides along your swollen bud and your pussy aches for more so you hitch your leg over his hip. Frankie grabs your thigh to hold you close and rolls his hips sinfully against you, drawing a desperate noise from deep in your throat. “You like that, baby?”

You nod frantically. “You know I do. You know it drives me crazy when you put your mouth on me.”

Frankie chuckles and sucks your nipple into his mouth, pulling much of your breast along with it. The tugging sensation sends a bolt of desire straight to your cunt and you whine. You seize his jaw and glare, your eyes blown with lust. “If you don’t touch me soon Francisco I swear I will go inside without you and finish the job myself.”

You’re all talk and Frankie knows it. “I am touching you, sweetheart,” he says innocently.

You give an irritated huff and seize his hand, directing him where you want it. His composure slips when his fingers brush the crotch of your panties, already soaked with your need. His gaze flicks to yours, a lovestruck look in his eyes as he asks softly, “is this all for me?”

Biting your lip you nod. “Yes. I need you Frankie, please .”

“Shh, I’ve got you baby.” Frankie hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties and drags them over your legs. You kick them off, nearly sobbing in relief as he drags a single finger through your glistening folds.

Frankie closes his eyes reverently. “Shit honey, you weren’t kidding.” His finger comes away coated in your juices and he sucks it slowly before replacing the digit. He adds another finger, the pads slipping just inside your entrance to collect more of your slick before circling your clit. You tip your head back, grasping his shoulders as he gently fingers your slit. Just when you can’t take it, when you’re ready to beg for more, he pushes those fingers into you, stretching you out perfectly. Mewling, you buck your hips, chasing the feeling of him fucking you open.

“Mm, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”

“Never. Think you can take another?”

“Yeah.” Your answer comes as a breathless whine.

“Good girl.” Frankie adds a third finger and you swear it makes you see stars. He curls his fingers to stroke that spot deep inside and you find yourself skating the edge of your release. You’re so close, could so easily tip right over that edge, but it’s not until you hear Frankie murmur “come for me, beautiful” that you actually do. All that gorgeous tension he’s been winding up unspools in a rush of pleasure, your legs shaking and your hips bucking as he works you through it.

You’ve scarcely begun to come down before Frankie’s blazing a trail of kisses down your belly, his hands gently parting your thighs wider to settle between them, keen concentration suffusing his handsome face.

“Wait,” you breathe, catching his jaw with a deft hand.

Frankie draws back at once, concern creasing a furrow between his brows as he gazes up from between your legs. “Everything ok?”

You sit up, already nodding to reassure him as you draw him forward and kiss him deeply. “Everything’s perfect. I just want to come on your cock this time.”

Frankie looks down at you in amazement before pulling you into a crushing embrace. He tilts your chin up to give you a searing kiss, his arm wrapped around your waist. He leans his forehead against yours, his breath tickling your lips as he rasps “You’re perfect, you know that, right?”

You giggle, moved by the awestruck look on his face, and drop your hands to unbuckle his pants. He’s already barefoot, making it easier to push his pants down, followed by his boxers. You glance around again, reassuring yourself that the coast is clear. Clocking what you’re doing, Frankie chuckles. “Don’t worry, baby, we’re good.”

Smiling a little sheepishly, you nod. “I know. Just protecting your honor.”

Frankie begins to laugh softly but the sound is cut off by a hiss as you lick your palm and wrap it around his shaft. “F-fuck.” His eyes roll back in his head as you tighten your grip, working his cock. You brush your thumb over his weeping slit, collecting the pearly bead of precum glistening at the tip. “Now who’s being a t-tease?”

You look up at him innocently through your lashes. “I don’t know what you mean, Frankie.”

“Sure you don’t,” he huffs, his breathing already picking up. “C’mere, baby.” He pulls at your waist, encouraging you up into his lap.

You’re happy to oblige. With a few quick movements, you’re settled above him, his cock lined up with your entrance. Throwing your arms around his neck, you lower yourself slowly, taking him inch by inch. Frankie buries his face in the crook of your neck and meets you halfway, thrusting up to seat himself fully inside you. He always seems even bigger when you’re on top, and he gives you a moment to adjust to being so well-filled.

“You good?”

“You have no idea.”

He smiles at that, clearly pleased. “Then tell me,” he urges, kissing you just below your ear. “Tell me how much you like me stretching you out on this big dick.”

Your eyes flutter closed at this. He knows what dirty talk does to you, knows exactly when it will be the most devastating. “It feels so fucking good, baby,” you assure him. “You’re so thick and you hit so deep. I can’t get enough, want you even deeper. Please, Frankie.”

He sucks hard at your pulse point, his tongue laving your neck as he begins to thrust up into you. “Anything, baby. I will give you anything you ask for. You know that, right?”

Gasping, you nod quickly. “I know, love. I know.”

His fingers tangle in your hair, his strong arms bracing you as he fucks up into you. You match each thrust, grinding yourself on the base of his cock. The two of you find your rhythm and you lean back, allowing him to hit at an even deeper angle. Frankie leans forward, able to reach your breasts now. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, all wet heat and slick tongue moving against you. You whimper and arch your back, trusting him to support you.

He does.

Frankie’s eyes are screwed shut as he pounds into you, determined to take care of you before finding his own release. Your whimpering cries plateau and he can tell you’re not quite there yet. He rests his forehead against yours without missing a beat, opening his eyes to gaze into yours. “What do you need, baby?” He asks it softly, reverently, his large hands cradling your face as if you’re something holy. With him looking at you like this, you almost feel that way.

“Talk to me, Frankie,” you gasp. “Want to hear how much you like this.”

Your want pulls an answering moan from him. “God, you know I fucking love this. You’re so tight, and you take me so well, baby. I could pound this pretty pussy all day.” He snaps his hips, driving himself deeper inside you as if to prove his point.

Your breathing comes faster, your cunt clenching around him as his words drive you closer to your edge. “Fuck, yes, just like that. I’m so close, baby,” you whine.

Frankie cants his hips, hitting that devastating spot deep inside you. His voice is even huskier as he urges you onward. “You have no idea what hearing that does to me, sweet thing,” he pants, sweat dampening his hairline. He runs the back of his hand distractedly over his forehead. He’s not about to let go before you do and he leans in close, his warm breath ghosting against your ear. “ Come for me. I know you want to. I can feel you clenching around me so be my good girl and come for me, sweetheart . ”

And just like that, a wave of sweet pleasure rolls through you. You clutch his shoulders as the two of you ride it together, Frankie moaning against your lips as he finds his own release.

Your head drops to his shoulder, your limbs quivering as little aftershocks zip through them. Frankie holds your limp form easily, dropping lazy kisses over your face and hair while you drift back to the present. Finally, you draw back, a dazed smile tugging at your lips. You blow out a breath along with a tired, please laugh. “That was-”

Frankie chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, pleased to have pleased you. “I know, baby.” His kisses are easy, unhurried, and still make you feel nearly drunk with happiness as the two of you linger lazily in your afterglow.

By now, the sun is truly setting, the horizon taking on a purple hue as the first evening stars begin to appear. Even in Frankie’s arms, you start to shiver as the breeze whispers over your rapidly cooling skin. In a deft move, he tugs at the edge of the old quilt, rolling the two of you into it, creating a cocoon of private warmth. As the sky darkens and more stars appear, the two of you stay wrapped up in each other, making plans for your future in the peaceful space you’re creating together.

[spiral-chronicler]

  To @maskedmuses​; about a princess 🌷

    “That’s not true.” Nia began, shaking her head, the cumulus waves of hair shifting with the rapid motion. “That isn’t true, Viral!” Her voice raised a fraction.

    “Your happiness is equal to mine. I am not above you. I…We,” the gaze opened to peer upon the man. “We are family, Viral. Your happiness means just as much to me as if it was Simon’s, or Yoko’s, or…anyone else. You have done so much for my happiness.”

    “I found the seeds, because I wanted you to be happy. If…” Sucking in a breath, her hand lifted from the basket, wiping away the tears, that sunshine smile beginning to bloom out from the clouded expression. “If you feel so strongly, then my happiness…it will come from you being happy, Viral. Please,” Nia began, regaining her composure.

    “Tell me what will help us all be a happy family, Viral.”

   Even before the first purchase of tears took upon Nia’s petal-like gaze, Viral acutely realized the depth of his verbal misstep. Her voice, otherwise lilting and mirthful, ever like birdsong in his ears - rang instead with a resolute little fury. Mentally, he backpedaled, searching his recent executions for what had tripped this unexpected wire between them. But Nia saved him the trouble of wandering anxiously through recent moments; she was insistent on his behalf.  

   A disjointed silence followed, as Viral’s head and his heart convened for some clumsy semblance of understanding. Soft. And warm. The emotion was profoundly tender, and it took every ounce of his concentration to find a genuine reception for it. How bereft his history was, of the affection that Nia so candidly offered him. Even now, after all of his achievements in the pursuit of peace, and the exaltation reached after nearly three decades as a spiral being, it was still a strain to soak it in... though his spirit was parched for such sweet affirmation.      

   At some point, he’d wandered into a dream; a dream where he lived alongside cherished individuals, and wandered in contentment, through the currents of their daily paradise. He wanted to see them happy. He wanted to see them smiling, laughing, talking. Flourishing. Living. He was grateful for just that much; and to desire more... well, that had never been forecast well by his fate, up until now. At some point, he’d begun to tend the days with a fearful hand; he refrained from looking too closely at those familiar faces, he refused to call to them with too much expectation in his voice -- as though by some mistake, he might perceive the fragile seams that would tear the dream asunder. Though he had been hellbent to reunite them beneath the stars, he’d also been afraid to lose them.

      He was so tired of goodbyes.

              And all dreams, no matter how sweet, came to an end.        

   Yet here was fearless Nia. With incomparable gentleness, she wrested from him, the framed edges of his cautious vision, and spoke to him through her impassioned tears and through his self-imposed isolation. From her words spilled a radiance that chased the shadows from his thoughts and hushed the ache from his history. She had been working hard, herself, to embrace this hard-earned paradise. This dream-like joy. But it wasn’t a dream. They’d each bled and fought, and Nia had poured her whole heart out into the world they all loved -- so if they bent these faraway stars and rewrote a line or two in the ending of their story, so that it might continue... how could he waste time disbelieving that he, too, had a place in it?

         He could share her faith, while he cultivated a familiarity with his own, at least.

    The Beastman roused from his bewilderment, and enveloped her hand with his own, to take ahold of the basket she carried -- his way of shouldering his share of the weight of his own happiness. His heart. It wasn’t hers to carry, alone, while he worked against her efforts. Viral started, earnestness sparking within his feline gaze -- and he even paused to correct himself when the old-world habit of honorifics seeped in. She had said they were equals. Family, even. Long ago, he had accepted Lordgenome’s desires to be seen shoulder-to-shoulder with the Beastman, as a noble spiral warrior.

     He would accept the honor of being dear to Nia, as well.        

   ❝Nia-Himesam- ... Nia. We are family. I am... happy. 

  I’m happy with you. Just being near you. Hearing your voice. Knowing the warmth of your hand, like this. Having you, and Simon, Kamina, and Avant, and all of the other reckless friends we treasure, along with us.

  This place is a home, only because all of you are here. I’m only here, because you’re all here. Don’t cry, Princess... I won’t say foolish things, anymore. Forgive my clumsiness; it’s only that  I’ve never known such joy. So I - ...was hesitant to call it by name.❞

     (Would they forgive him, if he allowed himself to accept this treasured reality?   Those beautiful faces, lit by an amber sun, surrounded by an endless, fragrant field... If he wasn't grieving for them, if he replaced his hurt with smiles - would they understand?)  

   The Beastman nudged a few stray, weightless strands from beside Nia’s cheek, appreciating its luster as the strand or so coiled against the soft hide of his index finger. Tangerine lips slipped a wry smile, porcelain points only scarcely revealed.

  ❝But that isn’t the way that the Dai-Gurren does things, is it?❞

  He canted his head to the side, a bit, a gradual playfulness inching its way into his body language. Viral made an immediate effort to prove out his decision to Nia, that he would endorse and accept her wishes for his sake -- just as he desired the best for her. They had both known loneliness. They were both tirelessly building this precious “truth” from simple, heartfelt wishes ...because neither of them had ever known much of a home. And they had both endured pain, in the place of a family. That was why... because she believed, he would, as well. 

    Viral lowered his voice surreptitiously,   

   ❝Would you mind, keeping this conversation a secret? I’d never hear the end of it, if the others found out that I thought I was living in a dream, you know. And I have my pride as a captain. In exchange...❞

  He lifted a strawberry between his claws, and devoured it in a fanged bite. The sweetness stained his tongue and the flavor was better, now, than it ever could have been.   

   ❝You can put me to work in the kitchen with you, if you’d like? We could use these berries to make a dessert for everyone. ...I suppose, if your wish was to nurture this fruit for my happiness... of course I eagerly accept it. These are delicious.

    And I entrust mine, a wish to share them with you... my family, to your expertise. What do you think? Would I just be underfoot?❞

   Bit by bit, hand in hand with loved ones, he would move forward, too.

[time-to-be-awesome]

A day in the life of Amy

Thursday 14th May 2020

Note - I know this is very long and I hope it doesn’t come across as self-obsessed. I was inspired by the Refinery29 Money Diaries which I find fascinating. I love getting a real insight into other people’s lives so maybe other people will find this interesting? Even if they don’t I know I’ll be glad to have this snapshot of this time in my life to look back on later.

I am 28 years old and live in Yorkshire, England. I live on my own in a rented 1 bedroom flat. I am a mental health social worker but have been working from home during lockdown. I am currently trying to lose weight and get fitter. This is a day in my life.

7:30am Alarm goes off. I spend a couple of minutes checking the BBC coronavirus morning update whilst I wake up. Have a big glass of chilled water and take my tablets for my underactive thyroid. I get dressed into workout leggings and a baggy t-shirt, put on a hoody and a light coat. I make a coffee in my travel mug.

8:00am I set off on my morning walk. The rules were changed this week so I can now exercise outside for an unlimited amount of time, whereas I was previously having to stick to once a day for about an hour. I am very lucky to live close to a big area of interconnected woods and fields that are public access. People have been painting stones and leaving them along the side of the footpaths. There are new ones almost every day, and other people move them to make it a sort of treasure hunt. There isn’t a cloud in the sky and I feel my spirits lift immediately as I walk in the sun and drink my coffee. I listen to the birdsong and as I get to a remote patch of brambles I walk very slowly and quietly. I’m rewarded with the sight of 12 wild rabbits grazing and hopping about before they inevitably spot me and scurry away.

8:50am I get back home. I tracked the walk on the Mapmywalk app and it tells me I burnt 258 calories, but the main benefit is getting the fresh air and a positive start to my day. I make my regular breakfast – one protein weatabix with milk, low-fat greek yoghurt, a chopped banana, mixed berries, and a sprinkle of a seed mix.

9:00am I set up my work laptop on my dining table and log in. I finish eating my breakfast whilst going through my emails and making a to-do list for the day. My first task is to write up a review that I did recently with a service user. It was a very positive review, they have been building their independence and can now manage their daily life with much less involvement from carers. I phoned the care agency to check their rates and then update the support plan with the new lower weekly cost. I call the service user to let them know that the change has been made and we agree that it is time for me to end my involvement. I spend the rest of the morning writing a closing summary of all the case work I have done with them since I was allocated a year ago.

12:15pm I’m already in my workout clothes so I get out my exercise mat and use my lunch break to complete day 2 of Chloe Ting’s Summer Shred Challenge. Today there are four videos including the warm up and cool down and it takes me an hour in total. I mostly do the modified versions but even following the video I can’t begin to fathom how to do a side plank hip abduction! I take sips of water throughout and by the time I’ve finished I’ve drunk two pints. I don’t have a fitness tracker so I don’t track the calories burnt by these workouts.

1:15pm Lunch break is technically over, but working from home has to have some perks and I think a bit of flexibility on working hours is one of those. I have a quick shower and get changed into my ‘day’ leggings and baggy t-shirt. I don’t have to do any video calls so there’s no need to look professional and its comfort all the way. I make my lunch – cut up veggies with hummus, some rice crackers and a triangle of cheese. I’ve very hungry by now so eat quite quickly. Not satisfied so I also have a packet of sweet chilli multigrain wave crisps and a glass of diet cloudy lemonade.

1:35pm I log back on to my laptop. Unfortunately three of my service users have passed away from Covid-19 in the past few weeks so I email the team admin so the records can be updated with their date of death. I had spent a lot of one to one time with one of the gentleman and I feel upset and guilty that he passed away after moving to a care home that I had helped organise. I ring his son to offer my condolences and share a happy memory of the gentleman.

2:00pm I phone a placement to follow up a safeguarding referral. A service user was given an extra dose of medication, but it didn’t have any negative effect and the managers have discussed it with the staff member responsible. Determined that no further action was needed. Discussed how the placement was going in general and there were no other issues and no further role for me. I’d been due to close the case anyway so I wrote up another closing summary.

3:30pm I decide I need a snack, partly because I’m hungry but also because I want a bit of a break. I’ve been using up the food I had in the house so I don’t have many options and go for two digestive biscuits. I start typing up a mental capacity assessment that I completed over the phone. The service user in question isn’t able to make the decision themselves whether they should have home care or not. Part of the job is making the decision of what is in the person’s best interest and they don’t always agree with that. This has caused a lot of issues for this person in the past and I’m not feeling very optimistic about their situation.

4:30pm My concentration has gone out the window. I start thinking about what I’ll make for dinner. I usually make a batch of something on a Monday that’s enough for 4 or 5 portions and I just have to heat it up, but I’ve already run out of my last batch cook. I have most of the ingredients for a bean pot so make a shopping list of the other things I’ll need.

5:00pm I log off from my work laptop, switch my leggings for jeans, and head out for another walk. I want to put some space between my work day and my free time. Whilst I’m walking I phone my mum and we have a good 45 minute catch up. She hadn’t been feeling very well and said talking to me really cheered her up so I’m glad I did.

5:45pm I go to the supermarket on the way home. My closest store is a Lidl and it’s generally pretty well stocked now that everyone has stopped panic buying. I get the ingredients I need, as well as some bits for breakfasts and lunches, and I impulse bought a house plant. Total spend was £22.37. When I get back home the Mapmywalk app tells me that I burnt 338 calories.

7:00pm I put the shopping away and sat down for a second and suddenly it’s 7. I start making the bean pot following a random recipe I found online. Don’t realise until it’s too late that it calls for 50 minutes of simmering time, but that is a fairly typical move for me. Whilst I’m waiting I put some laundry away and have a general tidy up.

9:00pm Dinner is finally ready! I created it as a recipe on Myfitnesspal and it came out as 700 calories per portion. In total today I’ve eaten 1551 calories and burnt 596 through exercise. I eat my dinner whilst watching Lucy Wood’s latest youtube video. Her videos honestly feel like catching up with a friend, even if that does make me sound like an internet weirdo!

9:30pm I put on an ASMR video from TingTing ASMR. The soft whispering and trigger sounds are very relaxing and the best ones make my scalp tingle. I’d jotted down some notes about my day as I went along so I make them into this post. If I hadn’t spent so long making dinner I probably would have watched a Disney film. I’m watching the Disney Classics in order and the next one will be Sleeping Beauty.

10:30pm I’m going to put this post on tumblr then put my laptop and phone away so I don’t get too distracted. I’ll read for about 30 minutes, my current book is ‘Once upon a river’ by Dianne Setterfield. I usually end up going to sleep 11- 11:30pm, ready to do it all again tomorrow!

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

Mutual Pining [4/?]

March’s monthly story, as voted on in my Patreon poll. Posted late due to health complications last month.

Check out my Patreon and consider joining my private Discord server to hang out!

Title: Mutual Pining Relationships: Templar!Carver Hawke/Merrill Rating: E for eventual smut (will be marked) Summary: A week of shore-leave turned into an impromptu camping trip with Merrill, and Carver made the mistake of not checking when Isabela and his sibling helped pack the bags. It had all the essentials, Bela swore, except for one thing:

It only had one tent.

Notes: set somewhere in Act 2, and Carver’s been a Templar now a year and a half or so. Turns out, it might did end up longer than seven parts, these two keep surprising me.

[Part 1]  [Part 2]   [Part 3]  [Part 4]

====

“—and this is halla beard, but you might know it as goat’s beard,” Merrill chirped from her seat on the tree branch. Carver watched while she gathered up the stringy stuff. “It’s good for blood clotting and fevers and other things.”

“Is it good for keeping elves from falling out of trees?” he muttered, eyeing her critically.

She turned, a confused frown on her face, and wobbled, almost pitching herself off the branch entirely. Carver tensed and readied to catch her but she found her balance almost as quickly as she had lost it.

“What was that, Little Hawke?” she asked breathlessly.

Carver shook his head. “Nothing, Merr.”

“Oh, look, the spruce tips are ready, too! Here, catch these.” She dropped her current haul and stretched to pluck at the bright green branch tips around her. “These are good for food, you know,” she said absentedly, concentrating as she climbed up the tree in search for the best of the bundled needle-like leaves. “Makes an excellent tea, or added to salads. We sometimes pickle them in vinegar with honey and water. Delicious!”

He caught the tips as she tossed them down. “Wouldn’t it be better to collect more from each tree? Less climbing around and stuff.”

She shook her head and dropped down from the branches. “You don’t want to over-harvest,” she said. “We all have to live on what the forest gives us. Taking too much from one tree or bush could hurt it.”

He hummed noncommittally. Much different than farming; he remembered working for their neighboring homestead after his own household chores and the way the old widow would yell, reminding him and Eli to harvest and weed until the bare earth showed its scars. Ah, Ferelden.

Carver rolled his shoulders as Merrill peeked into the basket, rearranging her planty treasures. Satisfied, she retrieved their lunch from her travel bag, neatly slicing into the hard chunks of sausage and cheese before sharing.

“I can’t wait to get to the grove,” she said around a mouthful of sausage. “Varric says he got the original map from one of the Sabrae hunters a while back. I want to see what’s there!”

“You’ve never been to the place?” Carver couldn’t help the nervous falling of his stomach. She’d used string to find her way around Kirkwall for years, after all, and that was in a pretty straightforwardly-built city. There were only so many ways to get lost among all those stairs. A forest was a much easier place to get turned around and lost for days.

“It’s just the woods, Little Hawke. I know how to find my wa— Oh, listen, do you hear that? Sounds like a thrush!”

He shook his head as she rose to her feet and crept toward the birdsong, lunch forgotten. Ah, Merrill, he thought, smiling. Never change.

Carver watched her. She smiled, and laughed, and was animated in ways he rarely saw in Kirkwall. Rarely saw period, now, but especially in Kirkwall. She always seemed to breathe easier on the road in his memories.

“It looks like it’s going to rain tonight,” Merrill called over her shoulder. She pointed up through the tree canopy. “See those clouds coming in? They remind me of pregnant halla, all fat and heavy.”

He squinted up at the sky and the dark cloud layer rolling in before stowing her baskets. “We should get going, then. You said we’re only a couple hours away, right? Hopefully we’ll get there before the worst of it hits.”

Merrill bounded over to him, a handful of pale blue blossoms in hand. She slipped them into the top basket and Carver helped her shrug back into her pack, shuffling it against her back. “What are those good for?” he asked, picking up his own bag.

“Oh! Um.” She met his eyes, her own wide in surprise, and looked away, a blush stealing over her face. “They, um. They’re my favorite shade of blue.” Merrill took a deep breath and walked further into the forest. “It reminds me of you,” she said in a rush, not looking back.

He stood there, dumbly, hands still working on the clasps of his coat. “It what?”

—

They weren’t a mere two hours away from their destination, as luck (and a likely/definitely skewed map) would have it. The sky dumped buckets down on their heads well into the evening and soaked them to the bone, even despite the thick canopy overhead.

They came into a small clearing--no more wide than Carver’s bedroom at the estate, really, but big enough for maybe their tents and a fire, if they were careful. He scrubbed his hands down his face. “This better be it,” he grumbled.

They ducked into the less-drenched shelter of a tree before Merrill carefully retrieved her map, reading by the light of a ball of magelight hovering at her shoulder. “Looks like it! We should set up camp, I don’t know that we’ll get anything useful done tonight. Maybe the rain will stop soon.”

Carver peered up at the sky with a scowl and threw down his pack. ”I’ll set up the tents, you check for a source of fresh water. We can use the camp pot for rainwater, if it comes down to it, I guess.” Merrill created another ball of magelight and then scarpered off, shedding her pack far more gracefully than he did on her way.

“And don’t fall or slip or anything!” he called after her as she disappeared into the night, only to see a blithe hand-wave in response. “Right, tents. Get a move on, Carver.” He quickly untied the oilcloth coverings of their packs to retrieve the folded canvas tents—

And paused, brow furrowed.

No. No, no, no.

Carver pawed through his pack. It was big, and heavy, and that weight had been reassuring up until a minute ago. He set aside a neatly-corralled expanse of canvas, wrapped alongside the ropes and short sticks that would help make up most of the frame. A bundle of cloth laid beneath it, and when he messily unwrapped it he found Bela’s hip flask, a parcel of cookies, other sundry provisions, and a note.

“Dear Carver, get bent. Enjoy the tent! Heh, that rhymed, who’d’ve thought? Anyway. Love, Eli,” it said in blocky handwriting.

The ink dragged across the page and a new script, light and practiced, sprawled over the page.

“Ignore Eli, get Merrill bent, and maybe you’ll both feel better. Have fun! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t! Rum, Bela. (Rum’s better than love, don’t you think? More fun, anyway.)”

Carver crumpled the note--and its unsurprisingly juvenile sketch--in his fist and stared at the half-strewn traveling bags with growing horror-tinged embarrassment. He should have known better to assume any sort of goodness from those two, they were worse than magpies when they put their devious minds to something.

“I found the stream, just like the map said! We’ll be set!”

He gurgled something in response, fist pressed to his mouth for a moment. “Good, fine, good,” he called back. “Everything’s good. Yep. Good, good, good.” Carver mentally prepared a to-do list for the minute he got back to Kirkwall, with one highlighted, bullet-pointed item:

Absolutely murdering his sibling.

“Little Hawke?”

He would deny until his dying day acknowledgement of the squeak that burst from him at her silent arrival. “Everything’s good!” he said in a rush. “Good, good, good.”

Merrill tilted her head and looked at him, nonplussed. “Of course it is. Here, I’ll help!”

Together they set up their shelter, with the only hangup being finding fallen branches long enough to use as tent poles. Carver finished up tying the last of the knots to secure the canvas as she stowed their supplies.

“I don’t think Eli packed us the right tent,” Merrill said from within. She poked head out through the door flaps. “It’s a bit small. We’ll have to snuggle.”

What.

“Come on,” she said, when he hesitated too long. “It’s cold and wet out there, and soon to be warm and a bit drier in here. I can set a rune under us and keep the tent warm through the night, don’t worry! You won’t freeze, I promise!”

Her earnestness brought him back to the present. Carver shook his water-drenched bangs from his eyes. “Sure, sure. Wait, you can do that?”

Merrill laughed. “Of course! Why do you think Bela always wanted to share with me when we would be on the road together? I know how to do a lot of things,” she said, and her smile was a bit too sharp for her words, but he didn’t have the time to puzzle it out. Merrill pulled him inside, muddy boots and all, and tied the flaps closed against the rain. Her light hovered at the peak of the tent and bathed her in soft, silvery-blue hues.

“Watch,” she said, before crouching down and pulling back the ground cover. Merrill sketched some design into the loamy earth, something he couldn’t quite follow, and slapped her hands against it with a delighted smile. Soon enough steam rose from the ground, drifting lazily through the air as the tent began to warm.

“....huh,” was all he could say. That would have made years of adventuring with their band of misfits easier. “I figured Bela liked to share with you for, uh, other reasons,” he muttered thoughtlessly, shaking his head, and he clapped his hand to his mouth when he heard the words out loud.

Merrill laughed, bright and bubbly, though, so he didn’t make her mad. “Oh, she did,” she agreed sagely, “but I think it was mostly because we both hate being cold. Much easier to sleep when you’re warm, right? I always thought so, at least!”

….Right. Thinking about anything but that. Nope, very studiously ignoring… that.

“And the tent isn’t going to catch fire or anything in the middle of the night?” he asked instead, bringing the conversation back to something safe. Like a tent fire. Like a tent fire inadvertently caused by his mage companion, who so graciously cast some sort of spell to keep them warm, for his comfort.

Great going, Carver. Way to stick your foot waaaay in there.

“Nope,” she replied, thankfully oblivious to his inner monologue and unintended insult. Merrill patted the groundsheet back into place and layered their bedding together into a thick pallet. “Won’t get hot enough to do that. It really just takes the edge off; it’s not like making a fire, more like… oh, like warming the blankets before you crawl into bed. The rune heats the earth below us to help insulate against the cold, which heats the tent a little, and our bedrolls will help trap that warmth to us. Most of the work will still be body heat, though.”

“Smart.” Carver turned away and began to peel off his layers. He was halfway through unbuttoning his vest when he caught her watching, unabashed. Carver blushed. “Do you mind?” he huffed.

“Hm? Oh!” She shook her head and turned her attention elsewhere. “Sorry. Modesty. What a strange idea!”

“Is it… not a thing with the Dalish?” he asked over his shoulder, hands stilled on his buttons.

“Not really.” He could hear her shuffling, then the sound of wet leathers. Carver trained his eyes, both physical and mental, to the canvas wall ahead of him. “Everyone has a body. They’re made for all sorts of things; work, play, pleasure—” Merrill’s voice stumbled for a second before righting itself again “--all very natural things. Nothing I, or anyone else, hasn’t seen before, so why spend the energy being shy and secret about it?”

“...huh,” he said, the word strangled in his throat. “Right. Well. Okay. I’m going to… get ready for bed now. So don’t look.”

She sighed behind him, and he could swear he heard a soft “you silly thing” in her gentle lilt but a quick peek over his shoulder showed her turned toward her own wall, busy with her bedtime preparations. Carver quickly traded his soaked clothing for a light tunic and a suspiciously soft pair of pants--Bela’s influence, no doubt.

Merrill’s penchant for fondling soft, touchable fabrics was well known, and Bela had been trying to “help” Carver “woo” Merrill for ages.

He added “murder the pirate” to his to-do list.

“Oooh, soft,” Merrill cooed quietly, as if on cue. Carver swallowed down a sudden rush of nerves and turned to find her, fully dressed, even, clad in a light shift. Her fingers crushed the fabric and she looked like the happiest damn person he’d ever seen in that moment. “Feel this,” she insisted, and closed the distance between them to thrust the material into his hands. “Isn’t it so pretty?”

He tentatively rubbed at the fabric and found that, yes, it was delightfully soft, something like a mix of silk and the lightest cotton he had ever felt. He also found that its hemline crept up her thighs when she wound his fingers into the cloth. Carver dropped his hands as if scalded.

“It’s really nice.” Like you, he almost said, and it was like another voice was in his mouth, trying to come out. It suits you. Now please take it off.

Fucking Maker, the earth could swallow him whole anytime now.

She smiled, and for a horrified moment he worried he had spoken it all out loud. “It's new! It's a gift,” she said, “from—”

“--From Bela,” he supplied with a groan, to which she nodded. Of course it was. Of course! “I’m going to die,” Carver muttered under his breath when she stepped away.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m going to bed, goodnight.” Carver all but dove into the combined bedroll. He rolled to his side and situated himself to give as wide a berth as possible for her. They’d shared a tent before but never like this.

Don’t make it fucking weird, he told himself.

Despite his good efforts, the bed was still somehow small enough that she plastered herself along his back after extinguishing her light. “We’ll have to snuggle,” Merrill reminded him, words muffled against his shoulder. “Body heat.”

“Right.” His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest. “Should I roll over?”

“If you want.”

“Okay…” They shuffled until he was on his back and Merrill curled up into his side like she belonged there.

Blood mage, blood mage, his heartbeat reminded him. The warning had been loud in his mind before but now it was new once more, a vision of Knight-Commander Stannard’s rage-mottled face blistering into his mind’s eye.

“Remember to uphold the duties and values of the Order, even on your days off,” Rutherford’s phantom voice urged him.

Carver Hawke, who had shielded mages from Templars all his life, wrapped his arm around Merrill’s thin shoulders with a mental fuck you to the Gallows and let the sound of her pleased sigh send him to sleep.

====

[Part 1]  [Part 2]   [Part 3]  [Part 4]

[ko-fanatic]

Growing Spoons (part one)

Rating: Teen (???)

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Relationships: Eventual Kyoya x Mori

Content Warnings: Fibromyalgia, chronic pain, chronic illness, disability

Summary: It was a bad day. It was one of those days where he felt as if his legs were being ripped from his body, and all he could do was lay in bed. He couldn't even think about swinging his legs out of bed, let alone going to school. He really needed to learn to keep track of his spoons.

The ringing from Kyoya’s fifth alarm clock rang throughout his bedroom, adding yet another layer of grating sound to the cacophony that attempted to get him up each morning. He knew Tachibana was dutifully waiting beyond the door, there to just make sure he didn’t manage to sleep through them, and he’d often help him with some of his morning routine before school.

Objectively, he supposed the golden sun and jubilant birdsong streaming in from the skylight would give many the impression that it was a lovely day. However, he wasn’t under any such delusions. He’d been awake since before the first alarm rang, the sheets wound around his hands in a white-knuckled grip and face shoved into his pillow. It was annoying, how he either slept for twelve full hours or woke up so early. He blames the later on the pain, however; while awaking to the sensation of rusted screws twisting through his hips and knees wasn’t that unusual for him, it was never pleasant.

It wasn’t even like it really mattered how much sleep he got, anyway; he was constantly exhausted. He dragged himself up and kept going no matter how much he wanted to just lay in bed, because he had to. Just laying there, vegetating, wasn’t going to help him.

On days like this, however, he couldn’t even imagine getting up. Every small movement only increased the throbbing, stiff pain. It was like his joints were being soldered together, like iron girders. He couldn’t even roll over to turn off his alarms, even if the incessant beeping was almost maddening. He was trying to just… psych himself up for it, to manage through the flare of pain rolling over would inevitably cause.

His stomach was already rolling, nausea hitting him in waves. He never vomited, just felt like he would. It was strange how fucked up his body was, even if it was just a singular, underlying issue.

Fibromyalgia. He hated it, being so tired and in pain. It wasn’t even that its inconsistency was a saving grace; it just confused people. He could do something one day and find it impossible the next, and it was frustrating for everyone involved. Even if the teachers were told not to piss off the students, he could feel the doubt emanating off his gym instructor as he sat out of an activity, even if he was relying on his cane to move around.

It was embarrassing, in that vain and petty way that seems to bother people the most. He was a teenager who limped like an old man, relying on a walking stick. He was delicate and so fucking drained, and he couldn’t even figure out how to manage his spoons. He was in such a minority; most fibro suffers being female, which already put him in the ten percent, but also being so young. The average age when this issue flared up was forty-five and he was only seventeen. It felt like it was impossible to just be a teenager, planning everything around fatigue and fluctuating symptoms and not even knowing if he’d be able to stand the next day.

Then, there were days like today, so close to unbearable, but he couldn’t make himself scream out. Because where was the dignity in that? Helplessly mewling any name that came to mind in the hopes that they’d… what? They couldn’t do anything, and that was one of the most annoying parts of it. He wanted it all gone.

But it never would be. You manage fibro, you can’t cure it. Not to mention that he was just plain awful at managing it. Spoons ran out too quickly, and he couldn’t tell how many he had left until there were none and he was dipping into the day after’s supply. He tried to do too much, all at once, because that was just how things got done.

“Kyoya? Are you awake?”

The door pushed open to reveal Tachibana’s silhouette, outlined by the light from the room beyond, and he could only wipe his damp face with his sleeve and try to seem more put together. After all, if Tachibana saw him crying, he’d worry and there was no point in that – he’d gotten through worse days. Still, the pain just felt so intense, and there was no way he could even get to the bathroom himself – even with his cane – let alone school.

“Oh, Kyoya…” He heard the man sigh, fingers combing gently through his hair, careful to avoid any knots, and the grating calamity was finally silenced, “It’s a bad day, isn’t it?”

At any other times, his reply would be sarcastic. He’d throw out some flippant comment and slowly – so, so slowly – push himself out from beneath the covers. Now, however, he couldn’t make himself think of one, his brain too foggy and the pain too intense. He just nodded, letting out a long, stuttered breath in the hopes of draining the tension from his shoulders, legs and hips. Tachibana just kept stroking his hair, trying to relax him, even just a little.

“Do you have any spoons?” Tachibana asked, “If you think you can manage going to school in your wheelchair, then you probably –”

“No,” He refused, voice far too close to a whimper for his liking. It wasn’t as if he’d even be able to concentrate in this state, and while it was good to show that he at least made the effort to go in, he… couldn’t. Not in the chair. His cane already got odd looks, but he could make it work; he could still be intimidating and powerful, but as some skinny, pathetic boy in a wheelchair?

It was stupid, really. To be concerned by something so ultimately meaningless. If someone didn’t take him seriously, then that was their loss. They’d soon pay for it – it was karmic retribution.

Tachibana seemed to take his refusal in stride, however, simply agreeing that perhaps he should stay home. What was the point in using spoons he just didn’t have?

“I’ll go call the school to let them know, and get your hot water bottles,” The older man informed, short nails dully scraping over his scalp. Hot water bottles helped, as did painkillers and topical creams and balms. His bedside table was covered in them, but they were just out of reach from where he currently was. He’d try moving in a minute, but for now he just squeezed his eyes shut, trying to go back to sleep.

It was all he could do on days like these, after all.

A/N: This is kinda an introductory chapter, don't worry, we'll get to that sweet MoriKyo content soon. This is kinda a vent fic tbh, as... I might have fibro myself. I certainly have some sort of condition, anyway. I've been in bed Suffering for the past few days, so guess who's getting my shit dumped all over him, yay! I also suck at regulating my spoons.

But in all seriousness, I'm not officially diagnosed yet, it might not be fibro. If you see anything inaccurate in this fic then... that's why.

[raendown]

@silverfire13 won second place in my 1500 Followers Giveaway and this was their request! Honestly, I wanted it to be longer but these idiots just weren’t having it. 

Pairing: MadaraSakura Word count: 5083 Rating: T+ Summary: A cautionary tale on why you shouldn't play with things that don't belong to you which doesn't turn out very cautionary.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Halves To The Whole

Long hair and associated vanity aside, Madara was pretty sure that his brother was the more feminine between the two of them. Hearing his own voice reach octaves which shouldn’t have been possible after puberty did its work was enough to make him question that surety – or it would have if he weren’t currently batting for control over his own body. Fingers groped at his flesh in odd places and Madara scrambled to stop them before they could go anywhere interesting. They were his own fingers, damn it, it shouldn’t be this hard!

“Not there!” he wheezed, clamping one of his hands around the wrist of the other.

“What the fuck is happening!?” It was weird having someone else speak through his own vocal chords, feeling the movement and hearing the sounds but knowing that he himself did not speak a word. Madara’s brain derailed briefly to question how she managed to make him sound different.

“Just calm down,” he snarled back. “We can’t figure out what happened if we’re panicking.”

“I don’t want to be a boy!”

Madara rolled his eyes then yelped when his own fingers pinched his side in retaliation. “What the hell! You’re only pinching yourself too, you know!”

His companion didn’t answer but he could feel her seething somewhere inside him, which was pretty much the opposite of any experience he had ever imagined between the two of them. If he had a choice he would have preferred to feel himself inside of her rather than the other way around, although he still wouldn’t have wanted it to happen quite this way. Clearly Sakura agreed with that last point.

“Didn’t I warn you that sneaking around Tobirama’s labs wasn’t a good idea?” Together they wobbled toward the table, both of them trying to guide the legs of their shared body and sending all sorts of confusing signals to the muscles. Madara sighed. “But noooo you can’t control your curiosity can you? You’re as bad as my cats!”

“Alright! There’s no use complaining about it. We’ll just have to ask Tobirama how the hell to reverse, uh, whatever this is.” Her words faltered and it was enough for him to interject with scornful pique.

“What if I don’t want to go begging to that bleached asshole?”

They paused and he could feel the gears of her thoughts turning, control of their body shifting entirely over to him for a few blessed moments as she hesitated before speaking again. “Sometimes you say things and I wonder if you know that it means two things. Do you know what a bleached asshole is?”

His response was little more than a growl at first as she began to instinctively struggle for control again and nearly sent their body toppling backwards. Neither of them spoke for a little while after that. Getting out the door and down the path took much longer than it should have and his frustration was only increased by the fact that he couldn’t truly be mad at her for that. She couldn’t help the fact that her brain was trying to tell her current legs to walk at the same time that his was. Two minds in the same body were bound to create a bit of disparity, whether they meant to or not.

Eventually they made it close enough to the main house to wobble over to the fence, hold on for dear life, and holler for Hashirama. Who was not actually home at the moment, as they discovered after a short battle for control over his sensing abilities.

“Fuck.”

“You watch your language, young lady.”

“Excuse me but right now I’m a young man and you can shove my language where the sun don’t shine.” Sakura paused. “After I get out of your body, though. Don’t shove anything anywhere until I get the hell out of here.”

“I hate every single thing about this,” he grumbled.

Wrenching control over to herself for a moment, Sakura sent them both slumping down to the ground and propped them up against the closest fence post. “Yeah, yeah. Me too. Look, I didn’t get stuck a hundred years before I was even born just to also get stuck in your body so don’t whine at me like you’re the one getting the short end of the stick here. I never wanted a penis. Now I’ve got one. So cool your jets and let’s just wait here to see if help comes, alright?”

Madara stewed wordlessly for a moment, knowing she could feel his irritation. Eventually the curiosity overwhelmed him and he just had to ask.

“What are jets?”

“That’s what you got out of that? Ugh!”

“You didn’t answer me,” he pointed out. She groaned again. It sounded much harsher coming out of his throat than it would have coming from hers and he didn’t like it.

Sakura tended to make delicate sounds which belied the terrible destruction she was able to wreak upon the world around her. From one moment to the next she could switch from laughter as sweet as birdsong to bringing an entire building crashing down with the flick of a single finger. Madara sort of hated how intriguing he found it. She’d never made a secret of how wary she felt around him, even now several years after she found herself stuck in the past – a revelation that still struck him every so often.

Gaining this woman’s trust had taken more effort and energy than building a whole village had and he still wasn’t sure if he had succeeded entirely, which made it incredibly hard to decide how to interact with her. If he was even a little bit surer of his standing in her eyes he might have had the courage to ask her to dinner. As it was, he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t immediately put her fist through his chest just for suggesting it.

Waiting for Hashirama to come home was an exercise in excruciating boredom interrupted with brief periods of bickering. Sakura could be just as sassy as his younger cousin Hikaku but at least she looked cute doing it, not to mention that she never went for the low blow unless she was actually mad at you. Madara shamelessly took advantage of her touchy nature to start a few fights as they sat there on the ground. It was better than staring off in to space doing nothing, in his opinion, and although he would never admit to it he did rather enjoy their little spats. They quite often provided opportunities for him to admire her quick mind.

Nothing like a good argument and rapid fire insults to show off a bit of creativity.

He knew he was pushing his luck when he felt his teeth begin to grind together but luckily that was when Hashirama finally wandered up the street, humming to himself and swinging his arms in exaggerated motions. He very nearly walked right passed them towards the front of the house but stopped when Madara and Sakura both tried to call out to him at the same time – which, of course, meant they accomplished nothing more than gargling loudly in his direction.

“Madara? What are you doing sitting on the ground over there? Did Mito kick you out again?” He made his way over and stopped to look down at the man on the ground strangely when he began to snicker, followed immediately by a scowl directed at nothing.

“Shut up! Stop laughing!”

“Uhm…I didn’t?”

“Not you. Where is that infernal brother of yours? I have a…situation.”

Hashirama tilted his head to one side curiously. “What kind of situation would have you sitting on the ground in my backyard? That you need my brother’s help with?”

“I–“

“We’re stick together!”

“Shut up I was going to tell him!”

“Well there’s no point in beating around the bush.”

“I know that; would you just shut up and let me talk?”

“Are you feeling okay?” Hashirama asked slowly, taking one careful step back. Both Madara and Sakura glared at him in the first united motion they had made so far. Madara crossed their arms petulantly.

“Yes I’m fine. But I, er, we might have, ah, touched something in Tobirama’s laboratory which did something…interesting. If I sound like I’m arguing with myself it’s only because Sakura-san also happens to be occupying my body at the moment.”

Rather than waste time gaping in surprise – he’d seen his fair share of weird things come out of Tobirama’s lab over the years after all – Hashirama nodded with a reflective hum as though this was all very reasonable. “I see, yes, that does explain. Ah, if I might ask where Sakura-san’s body is? Did you fuse together entirely?”

“No, we left my body back in the lab,” Sakura answered with Madara’s mouth. “We can barely manage to walk; carrying me around was a non-option.”

“Right. Okay, well. I suppose I should go get Tobirama. He should be able to fix you two right up!”

Madara managed to shake his fist at the retreating man’s back only because his body buddy wasn’t paying attention. “Walk faster you nincompoop!” he shouted. Hashirama laughed as he rounded the corner. “I hate him.”

“You love him.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

His only consolation was in the fact that she didn’t fight the pout he settled on to their face. The surety in her voice was worrisome. If she was that confidant in his toleration for her then it wasn’t that big of a leap to assume she might suspect his affection as well. Very worrisome indeed.

Not wanting Tobirama to see him lolling about in the dirt without any shred of dignity, Madara scrambled to regain his feet while Sakura tried to detach her mind so that he could do as he wished. She did lose her concentration when he tried to wipe the dirt off the back of his robes and both of them contributed to the heat in his face when his hand accidentally groped his own ass.

“I didn’t mean to,” Sakura blurted.

“Well I certainly wasn’t the one who did that!” he snarled back. Of course not. Did he believe his ass was one of the finer pieces in the village? Yes. Did he feel the need to stroke it in public? No!

“Are you suggesting that I did?”

“There are only two of us in here. Or at least there better be. I don’t know if I could handle having a third person stuck in this mess as well.”

“You’re a mess,” Sakura mumbled weakly. Madara’s hand went instinctively to his hair.

He was still trying to come up with a suitably intelligent reply when the air a few feet to one side of them displaced and Tobirama stepped out of nothingness to stare at them with narrowed eyes. Madara stared back at haughtily as he could with Sakura trying to shift his features in to a smile. The results of their conflicting signals probably left his face twitching like a mad beast.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t so bad. Tobirama already thought of him as a mad beast and he’d done very little to discourage that opinion over the years.

“My, my. What have you gotten yourself in to this time, Uchiha?” How Tobirama managed to pack so much judgment in to the movement of a single eyebrow was a mystery he didn’t care to solve. Madara glared harder.

“Fuck you,” he snapped.

“Ah, that isn’t smart. If you wish for me to fix this situation then you’d best be polite, else I might decide it’s too much trouble.”

Sakura shook a clenched fist with the arm not holding on to the fence. “You wouldn’t leave me in here like that! Senju I swear I will feed you your own teeth if you don’t get me out of here right now!”

“Hn.” By the twitch on Tobirama’s features, it was clear he was much more cautious of Sakura’s revenge than Madara’s and he probably hadn’t expected her to be able to speak up for herself. Hashirama must not have explained the situation very well. Either that or Tobirama had heard that Madara got himself in to trouble and rushed over to gloat without waiting to hear the details. That sounded very like him.

Without saying anything else, the man turned away and motioned for them to follow along as he retreated back up the path they had wobbled their way down before, heading towards his laboratory behind the Senju main house. Madara and Sakura struggled to follow behind. Their steps were just as uneven and jerky as they had been before but it seemed like they might actually be getting the hang of this; they managed to take at least a few steps in sync without swaying dangerously. Sakura grumbled about longer legs and how she wasn’t used to being so high above the ground.

Madara took the compliment even if it wasn’t meant as one. It wasn’t very often he got to feel tall when his best friend was a bloody tree and himself barely above average.

By the time they made it in to the lab Tobirama was already seated at one of the work surfaces with a bunch of his notes spread out around him, fingers drumming along the line of his chin in arrhythmic patterns. A frown appeared on his face and Madara echoed it without thinking. Whatever Tobirama had to frown about probably wouldn’t bode well for them.

“I have good news and bad news, Sakura-san,” he said at last.

“Oi, I’m in here too!” Madara’s scowl deepened when Tobirama continued to ignore him.

“The good news is that I can reverse the merge and return your consciousness to your own body. However, the bad news is that I won’t be able to reverse the merge entirely.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sakura demanded. They propped their hands on theirs hips indignantly at the same time.

Tobirama sighed and rubbed at the crease between his brows. “It means that you should stay out of my personal areas and not play with things you don’t understand. The seal was meant to swap your bodies but it wasn’t complete yet and instead you were woven together into one. I can return you to your own body but your minds will stay linked. Forever, I’m afraid.”

“Forever!?”

“Indeed.” The man shrugged heartlessly. “The seal was experimental. I’ve no idea what precisely it did so I’ve no idea how to reverse it either.”

“Unacceptable,” Madara growled.

“Do you want your bodies back or not?” Tobirama asked him in a deceptively mild tone. Neither Madara nor Sakura answered with more than affirmative grumbles and he nodded decisively. “Then I shall get you both back to where you belong and neither of you are going to complain about it. This mess is your fault; deal with the consequences.”

The two of them subsided to wallow in their shocked disappointment.

It actually took a surprisingly short time for Tobirama to go through his notes and ink out a seal which he hoped would do the trick to send Sakura back to her own body, although neither of them were about to complain about that. Waiting was made difficult by the way they could barely stand still properly but they did their best to remain quiet until finally he lifted the scroll he was using and waved it through the air to dry the ink, peering down at the floor where still no one had bothered to move Sakura, to her annoyance.

“Hopefully this works,” he muttered.

“What do you mean hopefully?” Madara jabbed a finger at the other man. “It’s your stupid experiment, it had better work!”

“It was an unfinished experiment, you boob.” Tobirama glared back at him until Sakura rolled Madara’s eyes and took control long enough to smack him upside the head with one of his own hands. He squawked irritably, although that was more because she did so right in front of Tobirama than for any sense of pain.

With much grumbling from both men they converged on the table in the center of the room. Tobirama cleared enough space to lay out the scroll and instructed them to place one of their hands in the center – easier said than done. Both of them tried to move at once without thinking and sent the hand flopping off wildly to one side. Madara snarled to just let him do it and he could feel Sakura trying but their second attempt still didn’t quite go where they wanted it to. On the third attempt he left that hand to her and took control of the other, making him look like a child flailing at the scroll with both arms, but he was pleased to note that it worked, at least.

Darkness filled their vision for a moment and Madara could only describe the sensation he was experiencing as having his insides torn out all at once. It wasn’t exactly a physical feeling and yet it left his body reeling with nausea and an instant headache, neither of which had happened when they merged together before. In a burst of distrusting suspicion, he wondered if Tobirama hadn’t taken the opportunity to do something nefarious, a thought which didn’t help him stay calm at all. Then his vision restored at last and as he crumpled to the floor he caught a glimpse of Sakura stirring in the corner, limbs twitching and eyes fluttering open.

It didn’t feel like they were separated. Her presence was still very much right there inside his mind, her thoughts a murmuring in the background and her emotions muted like music playing from one room over. The only difference was in the way he could sense that he was the only person in control of his body now without having to fight against another mind.

Madara’s vision returned slowly, his eyes seeking out Sakura first and watching her rub at the side of her head while Tobirama inspected her eyes, presumably giving her a medical once-over to ensure she had suffered the transfer without any negative side effects. He could feel the nervous edge to her emotions and the way she was forcing herself to stay still. She was clearly feeling the same restlessness he was yet managed not to disturb Tobirama’s checkup until the man stood up straight and waved to indicate that she was fine. Then she slumped and Madara felt the waves of relief washing through her.

When she had been riding inside his mind as an unwanted passenger her emotions hadn’t been half as prominent. Perhaps, he theorized, it was because his body belonged to him and prioritized his reactions over her own – or perhaps their reluctant savior truly had fucked something up in his efforts to clean up their mess. There was no way of knowing which at the moment.

“Ah, you’re not dead,” Tobirama noted with disappointment shading his words. Madara scowled.

“Wish you were,” he growled.

“Hn. I’m sure you’re fine. If you want a medical examination then go find my brother.”

“Now hold on a moment!” Madara flung one hand out to grab on to the edge of a nearby table and slowly haul himself to his feet. “I could be dying of something you did for all we know and you’re not even going to take the time to check?”

Tobirama blinked at him slowly. “No. Now get out of my lab.”

The only thing that stopped him from breathing out the biggest Grand Fireball he’d ever created right there in front of many explosive materials was Sakura’s hand around his wrist, dragging him around and leading him to the door while her exasperation rang clearly in his mind. He couldn’t quite decipher the words she was thinking but even just the gist of it was enough to tell him that he was in for a hard lecture if he didn’t smarten up his act – a sentiment he resented. She was neither his wife nor his keeper so she had no right to be modulating his behavior in any way.

Only halfway between the laboratory and the Senju main house, Sakura came to an abrupt halt and spun around to face him with her cheeks turning red.

“Whatever you were just thinking about, stop it!” she demanded.

“I’ll think whatever I want!” he shouted back. Just because he could, he imagined her in a frilly little apron, standing by the stove and waiting to serve him dinner like a good ‘socially acceptable’ wife should.

“Stop it!”

“No!”

They glared at each other, fists clenched at both of their sides. Sakura looked away first when the blush on her cheeks spread out to the tips of her ears and Madara could feel the way she both shied away from and yet longed for whatever images she was seeing inside her own mind.

“Wife. What absolute nonsense! I am not your wife!”

“I never said you were,” he insisted. “But if it bothers you so much then let me think about it even more!”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he deliberately imagined the two of them holding hands and strolling down the street together, doing his best to ignore the strong pull of desire he felt for the scene to be real. He winced when a wave of shock rolled over him and he realized his companion had felt the wanting he was trying to ignore. Madara cracked one eye open cautiously, half expecting to see an angry fist coming straight for his face just for taking such liberties when his thoughts concerned her.

He found her biting her lip and staring at her toes instead, weight bouncing on the balls of her feet. Faint traces of nervous anticipation drifted across their strange connection.

“You want me…to be your wife?” she asked slowly. Madara spluttered.

“Who said I wanted–? I never–! Well obviously you’d be a good match for anyone but no one said it had to be me!”

“Hmm.” She peered up at him, demure yet thoughtful. “But you do want it,” she concluded, extrapolating from his disjointed ramblings. Madara’s face contorted and his jaw opened and closed several times while he searched for a way to answer.

In the end he slumped and crossed his arms defensively. “As I said. You would be a good match for anyone.”

“Ah-ah! Be a big boy and admit it! You like me!”

“Gloating does not become you, Sakura-san.”

“But being a perfect little wife would, huh?” She flashed him a dangerous looking grin that warned him not to agree. He already knew better than that anyway, even if he had shared such an opinion.

“Perfection is boring,” he muttered, looking away as though bored. “I much prefer a woman with a brain in her head, one who can keep up with me both in battle and otherwise. Someone who rolls over on command and waits at home to simper over a perfectly cooked meal could never satisfy me.”

The feeling of her amusement was overwhelmed only by the triumph rising like an inescapable tide. Madara was straightening his back with pride before he even realized that it was her emotion instead of his own.

“I see,” she said quietly, in direct contrast with how loud her feelings were to him.

“You – what do you see? What?”

“Lots of things. For instance, I see how you have your weight settled back on your heels the way you always do when you’re uncomfortable but trying to act all stoic instead.”

Madara wrinkled his nose in distaste for being so obvious.

“I also see the way your hands keep clenching unconsciously only to unclench when you realize it; an effort to appear casual, I’m sure.”

“You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“Well you’re not that hard to figure out,” she told him. “Besides, I still have this weird echo of you in my head and you don’t feel very upset to me; you feel nervous and worried and – dare I say it – yearning but not upset” Her lips bowed upwards in a victorious smirk that was more attractive than it really had any right to be. Madara huffed, searching for any words at all that he could pull together in to a rational sentence.

“Shut up,” was all he came up with.

“Maybe I’ll shut up if you kiss me. But don’t take all day about it. We’ve already wasted enough time dancing around each other, wouldn’t you say?”

His jaw hung open in shock at her boldness and it took a few seconds before he was able to muster a response to that. Sakura waited patiently. Likely she could hear the mental static going on inside his head and understood that he wasn’t dismissing her, only startled and still trying to reboot his brain.

Finally Madara gave up on coherent words and opted for just reaching out to pull the woman in towards him, holding her as tightly as he dared as he bent the short distance between them to kiss her. It felt like being whole again. Madara didn’t bother to wonder if that was due to their odd connection or the feelings he had been hiding for well over a month now, using his dwindling brain power instead to catalogue the quiet happy sigh she made and the way her palms rested gently against his chest as though to capture the beating of his heart.

Completely sunk in to the kiss, he was jolted back out of it when he felt her sharp fingernails dig in and scratch their way down his chest suggestively. His entire body shivered under the pleasant sensation.

“Don’t start things that you do not intent to finish,” he growled warningly, pulling back to narrow his eyes at her and shivering again when he saw the way she was looking up at him, something heated and feral behind her eyes that reminded him of a cornered predator.

“Oh I very much intend to finish this,” she corrected him. “Several times before dinner, maybe again after if you’re good.”

“You are a wicked woman, did you know that?”

Sakura winked and stood up on her toes, speaking with her lips brushing against his own. “Yes, I did know that.”

He didn’t have the time to say anything else before a flare of chakra drew their attention away from each other, over to where Tobirama now stood at the top of the path with his arms crossed over his chest and a look of distaste curling his upper lip. While his face went through a few more contortions, Sakura made a point of burrowing deeper in to Madara’s arms.

“It’s not polite to interrupt such an intimate moment,” she called over. He bared his teeth.

“Perhaps you should not defile my personal property with such displays, then. Go make your poor choices somewhere that is not my backyard.”

“Excuse me?” Sakura’s lips turned down in an offended pout. “Are you saying I’m a bad choice?”

“Only that you are making one, my dear.” The two men sneered at each other with mutual distaste.

He did have a point though, as much as Madara hated to admit it. They were terribly exposed here, visible to anyone walking along the street who might peeking over at just the right angle. Besides that, Hashirama still hadn’t returned from wherever he wandered off to and Madara wasn’t willing to risk that he wouldn’t decide to come home and interrupt right when things got interesting. With that in mind he stepped away from Sakura and took her by the hand.

“My home is close and perfectly empty at the moment,” he offered. “There will be fewer irritating interruptions if we adjourn there.”

“What an excellent idea,” she purred.

Tobirama shifted and raised his chin to watch them go until Sakura turned back to look at him and call out once more in a deliberately light tone which could probably be heard several streets away.

“Later, Tobes! I’m off to ride Madara in to the mattress! Thank you for all your help!”

While her friend choked on his own tongue and cursed the both of them for that mental image, Sakura pranced away with a smile on her face. She was forced to drag Madara along as he seemed to having difficulties remembering how to work both of his legs at the same time. It looked quite similar to the jerky wobbling gait they had managed when sharing a single body. Madara tried not to imagine how much of a fool he looked like at the moment, desperately hoping Sakura meant her words despite having too much pride to actually ask.

After he was finally able to gather his wits he hurried to walk with her rather than trail after her like an eager puppy on a leash. Then he bit the inside of his cheek and looked away as the image of her holding his leash popped in to his head. He was not prepared for how much he enjoyed the thought of that.

Sakura halted in her tracks to stare at him with wide eyes.

“Whatever you are thinking of now: yes, I approve, let’s go.”

“Ah, I don’t know that I wish to share that particular thought.”

“You share it, I’ll do it.”

“Right! Shall we–?”

Now it him rushing ahead while Sakura laughed. The sound of her laughter was almost as sweet as the sensation of her genuine fond amusement bubbling up inside him. Perhaps there was a silver lining to this strange situation after all: he would never have cause to doubt his standing with her again. Being able to feel the way she reacted to him, the intensity of her emotions and the way she seemed to want this just as much as he did, was an incredible gift. How many times had he wished in the past that he could be granted a way to see inside her head for just a moment?

Softness could come later, though. The first thing he planned to do with this gift was, of course, show her just how much fire he had built up inside of him from all the time he’d spent watching and wondering. He couldn’t wait to feel her fall apart beneath him – and to hold her together for as long as she would have him.  

[thelaramieprojectessay913]

write my essay

About me

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[prussianknight9]

Tagged by @thatshipcat (Thank you! :’D)

Rules: post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic/original/anything!) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.  Too many, too many! If I was completely honest with this, I’d be pasting bits of my terrible course notes. But no one wants to read about that, so here’s something else... hm... a tiny sentence from Phobia chapter 15? I think yes.

“The man’s verbal abuse was like birdsong: a sweet, soothing lullaby to his ears.”

Tagging: @reapersperdition @horrorcat @hidan-chan-my-foot (I don’t know if you guys have been tagged already, I’m so sorry if you have! Also you are in no way obligated to fill this out ^^)

And another type of WIP meme, a bunch of questions:

How many works in progress to do you currently have?

I’m afraid I haven’t counted! Not including the ones that are public (Phobia and Switcheroo), I’d say about 3 or 4 that I have plans for? The thing is, I come up with many different AUs/story ideas but not all of them have been actively worked on. For example, I have bits of a Hogwarts AU written for Hidan & Kakuzu, as well as a sci-fi/dystopian AU that I have a couple chapters down for.

Do you/would you write fan fiction?

My one and only purpose in life. ;) Jk, but really about 95% of my writing is fanfiction.

Do you prefer paper books or ebooks?

I personally enjoy physically being able to touch, flip, and smell the book as I read through it, and seeing them sit on my shelf brings a warm tingly feeling to my heart. However, I’ve spent more time reading stuff on my computer these days, and it’s super great to have it ready at my fingertips wherever I go. So I can’t really decide!

When did you start writing?

The first time I actually put in effort to create a real story was in 5th grade, when I was about 9 or 10. It was a Digimon self-and-friends-insert, worthy of a dozen cringe-attacks and ridiculously unoriginal. But still a story! That’s when I really started getting into writing. Around the same time I resolved to improve my art, because of a new girl in my class (now my lifelong best friend) who truly was the definition of someone “born gifted” with drawing talent. 

Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

You mean all you guys? ;P

I love sharing my work with everyone here, and it makes me even happier that so many of you guys seem to enjoy it. None of my real life friends have ever seen my Zombie Combo works, except for one person (another lifelong best friend). I write other fanfictions though (Harry Potter, MARVEL), and a couple other people have seen those.

Where is your favourite place to write?

In front of my desktop where it’s quiet (except for the occasional moment where I can hear my poor computer fan chugging away). Though I like to listen to music when I draw, sadly it’s never the case with writing. I tried turning on some emotional music to inspire me through certain scenes but I can never focus/concentrate. I need my death-like silence ><

Favourite childhood book?  

The good ol’ HP series which I can never let go of, even now. Explains why I like dropping into my Hogwarts AU now and then!

Writing for fun or writing for publication?

For fun, without a doubt. I don’t think I’d ever publish something of mine like an official thing. 

Pen and paper or computer?

Computer all day, everyday. I type much faster than I write, I hate my handwriting, and my hand hurts, my wrist hurts, everything hurts and the computer is my best friend. If I’m out somewhere and I think of a cool sentence, I type it out on my phone. If desperate times calls for desperate measures, I’ll bring a pen to the palm. 

Have you ever taken any writing classes?

Nah. Does high school mandatory English count? Probably not. Would have come real handy, though... I regret not taking any.

What inspires you to write?

Deadlines! Anytime I have some super important thing due, it decreases motivation there and fires up my inspiration elsewhere, mainly fanfics. But the most important thing is passion. I feel that I really gotta invest myself emotionally into the subject of whatever I’m writing. And if in the middle of my Harry Potter fanfiction, I watch Guardians of the Galaxy and suddenly find myself obsessing over Yondu? Well, that fic is getting put on hold, no matter how much I love both franchises. I gotta really be in the zone with these characters, yanno? 

Sorry for the long answers! This was fun, and I tend to go on and on with everything. Whew!

[kl-writes]

History Homework

I really like @mismagireve​‘s thoughts on Black Dad-am. Here’s my take on how Black Adam might help out Billy with homework.

Since it was a nice day out, Billy Batson was completing his homework in the park, rather than at his current home in the subway or at WHIZ radio tower. The subway was usually too dark, and the radio tower had too much going on for Billy to concentrate. It was almost a 60-page reading tonight, since he had missed the past few nights due to schemes from Dr. Sivana, Mr. Mind, and even Sabbac.

Still, even in this quieter part of the park, he was finding it hard to concentrate. There wasn’t even any birdsong in the background… Or bugs chirping…

Billy looked up. Black Adam was floating in the air not too far away, arms crossed, glaring down Billy.

Billy shouted in surprise and fell backwards off of the picnic table bench, hitting his head. He rubbed it, annoyed, “What do you want now?”

“Hmph. This is truly pitiful. A true warrior is always on guard, with perceptions heightened to detect any foe. Pathetic child!”

Black Adam had been on one of his ‘better-than-you’ crusades for a while. Billy guessed that Khandaq was probably getting too peaceful or something. This would’ve been the fourth time this month that the ex-champion picked a fight with Captain Marvel. At least since it was a fight based on pride, Billy could usually count on Black Adam attacking Captain Marvel, not Billy.

Billy rolled his eyes, and sat back down on the bench, “Well, this ‘true warrior’ has history homework to catch up on, so you’ll just have to wait.”

“I’ve been waiting five minutes! Your studies can wait.”

“You’ve been floating there for five minutes? Are you really that bored?”

“Insipid child! This conflict of ours is a serious battle. I expect you to regard it as such. Say the word, and meet me in combat. I have made sure there are no ‘bystanders’ around to suit your childish stomach.”

Billy sighed, looking up from the book. He hated fighting for the sake of fighting, even more so to suit the arrogant ruler’s boredom and desire for conflict, “Look, you’re like 6000 years old, right?”

Black Adam was taken aback by the question, “Yes. What does this matter?”

“These chapters are on ancient Egypt, including the region of Khandaq. Help me finish these chapters and my worksheet, and then Captain Marvel will fight you.”

Black Adam groaned, floating down to the ground. He peeked over Billy��s shoulder at the textbook. “I don’t have to negotiate with the whims of a child.”

“Believe me, it’s not my whims! Miss Wormwood always assigns extra homework whenever I’m late. I can’t exactly use ‘fighting crazed supervillains’ as an excuse.” Billy looked at Black Adam pointedly.

“Whining isn’t going to solve anything, you should respect your elders. Scoot over, let me look at this…” Black Adam read the first few pages of the book quickly, aided by the powers granted to him by Zehuti, the Egyptian god who invented the alphabet, “This book is complete garbage!” Adam threw it against the ground, into the mud.

“Hey! I have to return that at the end of the year.”

“Hmph! You can return it now. Let me tell you how things really went down circa 4000 BC…”

Although Billy later confronted Black Adam about his failed history exam, Black Adam insisted that the answers he gave were correct. It was only through a quick bit of diversion that Billy prevented the villain from heading to Billy’s school himself and barking sense into the history teachers there.

[erenfanclub]

The Curious Cat Tower

ereri | ~6700 words | no warnings | fantasy, magic | ao3 | insp

It all began, as it usually did for Levi, with eavesdropping. However, this time happened to also have an unusual but welcome twist compared to past occasions; this time, the man talking definitely wanted to be heard. He had the attention of almost everyone in the dimly lit tavern, half leaning on the bar, loosely gesturing with one hand while telling his story. And it certainly caught Levi's interest, even from the back wall. The guy had charisma, Levi had to admit, and it looked like he was trying to make the most of it, eyes glued to a vaguely attentive blonde barmaid on his right.

“So my buddy was telling me about it, and I bet him his prized bearskin rug that I could do what he couldn’t,” the man had begun, flexing subtly. “I was gonna find the stupid tower, get in, and take the treasure all for myself. I mean, I’m doin’ pretty well for myself but I ain’t gonna say no to easy riches. So he tells me where to go and I see it with my own eyes. The weirdest thing. It’s in the middle of nowhere and there’s no door in. But I was prepared. Had a hammer y’see. But—” he takes a swig from his tankard “—fifty hits and not a single mark on the stone. Couldn’t believe it could be that strong. Can you?” Here he pauses and looks at the people around him, happy to see many still listening. “And then this crazy cat jumps in outta nowhere and claws up my arm.” He brandishes the wounds. Levi raises an eyebrow in contempt. The scratches on the man’s forearm are many in number but small in size, barely visible from a distance and nothing to complain about. Although red now, they’d heal completely in a couple of weeks. “I was half ready to swing at it too. Waste of my time. I get home and my buddy has the gall to laugh at me. All a trick, for sure. I bet there’s nothing there. And that swine cheated on the bet, not tellin’ me about no stinkin’ cat, so he ain’t getting nothin’ outta me. I shoulda known when he agreed so quickly. I should take the rug anyway.”

The man rambled a little further, but Levi had heard all he needed. He concentrated on moving around the outer tables, checking jackets and pockets swiftly while staying inconspicuous. The search didn’t yield much, but he had other plans for the evening. The last thing he heard as he slipped up the stairs was a prim voice saying, “I hate bearskin rugs.”

A few minutes later, Levi left the building from an open window, weighing a few pounds heavier than he did when he had entered through the front door. With his task over and his mind unoccupied for the moment, he spared a thought for the oaf abandoned at the bar and his tale of woes. It was rare for Levi to take interest in such stories, and yet he fancied himself having more luck than that cocky bastard. On a whim, Levi switched paths and melted into the night.

+++++

Levi put it all down to simple human curiosity. He had nothing in particular to do, and so he allowed himself to spend a couple of days on reconnaissance in that town, and a couple more in the next one over. It was a job that kept him active, and eventually he had a direction. Levi discovered he was a little late to this particular party, but it seemed that all the men who had made an attempt on this tower had failed, and to Levi's good fortune, half of them had big mouths.

The stories varied in many ways; the treasure remained undefined and things were added in or taken out or exaggerated, but such is the nature of rumours. Levi didn’t make a single move until he had a location though, and a solid one at that. Whether it was gold, or a princess, or a fairy ready to grant wishes that awaited him, Levi would find out.

A two hour ride north-east from the next town on, it was. Levi had no horse, but no objections, and so he set off on foot just as the sun had risen. His bag was as light as could be – important belongings had been stashed nights ago, of course – and for the most part he enjoyed the sense of adventure, setting off into the forest at a fork in the northern road, just as he’d heard. The weather was good, the summer sun kind to him once filtered through lush green leaves. He encountered no one once off the beaten track, but that didn’t matter.

He thought he’d see it coming, but he was wrong. The tower was tall, that was true, reaching a fair distance above the old trees surrounding it, but it was hidden from the angle of Levi's approach. After miles of walking, Levi finally laid eyes on the tower from all the tales.

Cat Tower, it had recently been dubbed.

Word of mouth was unreliable, but everyone who had the time to come to the tower saw the same feline during their visit, hence the name. Not one person had cared to describe it beyond its species. All found it unusual in different ways, but no more unusual than the tower itself, and so it had been overlooked. But one account let Levi know that he’d have to find it to get what he wanted.

He circled the tower’s base, scouting the place more casually than he normally would, but no less careful. It was perfectly cylindrical, with a tiled, conical roof, and really did have no obvious method of entry. There was one window at the very top that looked big enough for a person to climb through, but the others below it were slim rectangles barely more than a foot in height. They were shaped into small pointed arches, decorative and completely non-functional. Other than that, smooth grey stone was the only thing for Levi to look at. He stopped after making two full rounds, quietly appreciating the flawless architecture. There was currently no way of knowing what was on the inside, but the outside was clean and simple; Levi had the passing thought that he’d like to have a tower like this for himself. The solitude appealed to him just as much. Birdsong was the only sound that had reached his ears for the last hour or two.

If it was all a hoax, then it had at least been wrapped in a neat little package.

Levi scanned the wall in front of him again, seeing nothing new. He reached out a hand to touch the largest of the stones, but then stepped back quickly when the contact made the brick glow bright yellow. On high alert, Levi watched, intrigued, as the unnatural light condensed itself into golden lettering, written in a delicate script and completely incomprehensible to him.

It was the words of the Old Tongue. Having fallen out of use with commoners everywhere at least one hundred years ago, it was now referred to as Witch Speak, named such for the one group that still cared to use it. Levi couldn’t read it, but from his through information gathering, he knew that some other poor sap had already turned out his pockets paying for a translation. He was immensely grateful that he wouldn’t have to initiate conversation with his one magical acquaintance, or a certain bushy-browed intellectual, to know that the text read:

The cat has the key

Levi stared at the glowing words. He had yet to see the infamous cat, but knew that it would only be a matter of time. Knowing cats, Levi thought it was likely to come out to enjoy the weather at midday, and that he might stumble across it lounging in a sunbeam.

The magical message faded after another moment, and Levi, having scoped the place out as well as he could, moved away from the tower and towards the shade of a nearby pine tree to sit down. He set aside his pack, keeping it within reach, and drank from the waterskin attached to his belt. The cool water was amazingly refreshing, and he relaxed against the tree trunk, glad to be resting.

A light breeze blew through his hair. The birdsong from earlier had died down, but there was still music in the leaves. For a long while, Levi just listened to that quiet rustling. After a while, a new sound reached his ears. From the thicket over to his right there was a very faint shuffling, almost drowned out by the other noises. Levi saw a branch move, and then a section of tall grass was pushed and sent swaying. He made sure not to move as a grey rabbit hopped out to the edge of its hiding place, but allowed himself an internal sigh of relief.

There was nothing Levi could do this time, but finally seeing some wildlife in the area let him know that setting some traps nearby could help bulk out his supply of rations. Extending his stay at the tower for longer than a week would only be possible if he could catch more food as well as identify edible plants growing around him. A water source must also be close by, but he had never worried about that. Fresh water was abundant in this area.

Levi was only able to look at the rabbit for another short moment. He breathed a short laugh as he watched its fluffy, white tail disappear back into the foliage. With a small shake of his head, he turned away from the momentary distraction.

Only to find a cat staring straight at him.

It sat directly between Levi and the tower, like a proper little guardian, sitting watchful and alert with its tail neatly curled around its front paws. Its fur was a rich brown, with dark stripes banding its limbs and decorating its forehead in an interesting pattern, but the tip of its tail was pure white. The sun was glinting off something on its chest.

Levi stood and brushed grass off his legs, acutely aware of the cat’s gaze following his every move. The animal made no protest when he came closer. From a few of the stories, Levi had half been expecting some sort of wildcat, vicious and territorial, but in front of him was an average-sized domestic cat, looking well-groomed and docile.

It was cute.

Levi knew he was unusual for liking cats, but he didn’t care. In this country, they were seen as pests, only useful to farmers who let them hang around if they could keep rats and mice out of their food stores. In the towns and cities they were met with hostility and dislike. Shopkeepers swept them from their doorsteps, women were scandalised when they came near. Their close association to witches didn’t help either.

If he thought too much about it, Levi would say they were kindred spirits.

He looked at the cat and had to suppress a small sound of delight. As it was, he was caught up in admiring its green eyes, tiny nose and triangular ears, all in perfect proportion to its rounded face. Around its neck was a short strip of leather, from which hung a shiny, golden key. But that was suddenly much less important.

Its steady gaze seemed full of intelligence, and Levi hadn’t found a cat so trusting of a human in a long time. Slowly, he crouched down in front of it, extending his right hand into the space between them. Noting the tip of its tail flick upwards, Levi opted to stay still and let the cat decide what to do.

“C’mon, I won’t hurt you,” he said, curling his fingers gently and showing it the back of his hand instead. The cat, unblinking, flicks its tail again, but judging by the movement of its ears, it was listening. “You’re quite a pretty cat, y’know.”

Levi was simply speaking his thoughts aloud, but the cat perked up, twitching its whiskers and standing. Then it sauntered around Levi's side, completely ignoring his outstretched arm. Levi let out a breath, slightly disappointed despite the fact that he’d been expecting such treatment. But as the cat passed he felt a brief touch of fur on his arm, and turned to see that the feline had deigned to brush the end of his tail against his left elbow.

Labelling the gesture as ‘friendly’ was probably giving the cat too much credit, but Levi happily thought of it like that anyway.

+++++

The next morning, Levi was met with another strange, magical sight.

He had watched the cat for hours the previous afternoon, cataloguing the way it circled around him, maintaining a set distance that didn’t allow for anymore contact. When that pastime had yielded no fruit, and his sweet words had shown little effect, he left the cat to its own devices and started setting himself up for the night. As his stay would be longer than a single night, he put more effort into making a comfortable place to sleep than he normally would.

This meant scouting the area and climbing a tree.

Levi didn’t have to go high, but tying his hammock further off the ground meant he would be less noticeable to nosy humans and any predatory animals that might wander by in the night. The leaves offered shade and shelter from the rain, and his pack had to be kept off the ground either way. By the time he had finished, the cat had gone.

Wide-eyed, he watched it return mid-morning.

The tower was special, that was for certain, but it was still full of surprises for Levi. In broad daylight, the cat descended gracefully from the large upper window via an external spiral staircase made of small, protruding bricks. When the cat reached the ground, Levi witnessed the bricks recede back into the tower, leaving them flush with the rest of the stonework and completely hidden from view. Levi hadn’t seen the cat-sized path before because it never crossed his mind to look for such a thing. The workings of the magic itself made no sense to Levi, but he was glad that it explained the method for the cat’s comings and goings. That, at least, was one question answered.

Wide awake but stiff from sleep, Levi slowly climbed down from his hammock and set off west until he reached the river he’d found the previous day. He shucked his boots at the edge, leaving them neatly side-by-side on the grass, and rolled up the bottom of his trousers until they were just under his knees. Just as he was moving to stand up straight again, he spotted the brown cat emerge from behind a nearby tree.

“Morning, cat. You sure are living the good life out here, aren’t you.” The cat’s eyes were fixed on him before Levi spoke, and the intensity of its gaze was just as strong as in their first meeting. Not feeling the least bit silly for making conversation with a cat, one of the most hated creatures in the land, Levi stared back. He didn’t know quite what he was waiting for, but the only reaction the cat gave was to look him up and down and then begin licking one of its front paws. Levi smiled and shook his head slightly, and then stepped down the riverbank until his ankles were graced with cool, clean water.

He stood still when the water was halfway up his shins, and then faced upriver to scoop water and wash his face. Tiny fish darted by his feet, and water droplets clung to his eyelashes and ran down his arms. The forest felt full of life and peaceful at the same time, and Levi relished the quiet time to himself without worrying about anything happening to him. No one chasing him, no threats to hear, or authority to dodge. Just him and the sun and the trees.

Oh, and the cat.

Levi splashed his face one last time and used one hand to push back his hair, turning to look to where he’d last seen the animal. There was no movement in the grass, no white-tipped tail flicking between the trunks. The cat had disappeared without a sound.

Unbothered, Levi shook off most of the water and stepped out of the stream. He pulled a cloth from his back pocket and dried his hands and face, folding it again once he was done and heading for where he’d left his boots. There, he had to pause for a moment, taking in the unexpected sight. His boots were no longer positioned in the orderly way he’d left them. Instead, one was lying in the dirt, tossed from its original place, and the other was missing.

Levi knew there was only one explanation, but rather than irritation, he felt a small laugh bubbling up inside him. Pressing his lips together and humming a single, thoughtful note, Levi set off to find his wayward shoe.

+++++

Twenty minutes later, his right boot was rediscovered, under a thorn bush halfway between the river and Cat Tower.

The laughter that Levi had been holding back spilled out all at once. When he got up from his crouch, unharmed by any prickly branches, the cat was sitting a short distance away, silent and unassuming. Levi smirked at it, slipped his boot back on, and sat down properly, one hand outstretched in a second attempt.

“Well?” he asked, amusement underlying his tone. Levi swore he saw those long whiskers twitch, right before the cat stood up and walked off, not once looking back.

+++++

Four days of mischief followed. When Levi wasn’t watching the cat it would take unattended possessions and move them wherever it wanted. Levi didn’t bring much with him, so the same few things would get taken, but the hiding places were random and sometimes ridiculous. After the first few times, Levi began to see it as a game. The cat wasn’t hurting him, but at the same time it couldn’t seem to leave him alone. Often it would sit on its magic brick staircase and observe him while he searched. “How about a clue, cat?” Levi would ask if it was dragging on for too long, and the cat would stare at him and then pretend to look off into the distance. Every single time, the cat would be looking somewhere close to the item.

Levi knew it was strange, but he thought the cat was having fun.

In the night, when the cat had returned to its home and the forest was quiet, Levi would lie awake and contemplate the events of the day. He would look back fondly on his interactions with the weird cat, and smile to himself. Not once did he really question anything. Levi hadn’t lived an ordinary life so far anyway. But the cat made him happy, and he barely thought about leaving. He wondered if it was time to switch things up. To step away from his current lifestyle and find something else.

One particular night, Levi was curled in his hammock, those same thoughts running through his mind, when he spotted a snow-white owl fly overhead. He watched, in slight awe of the rare sighting, as the owl flew to the window at the top of Cat Tower and tapped at the glass. Levi could tell by the reflection of the moonlight exactly when the window swung open, and kept watching as the owl hopped inside. Despite staying up for almost an hour after that, Levi saw nothing else happen at the tower. The next morning he wondered if he had dreamed the whole thing.

When a whole day passed without an incidence of thievery, Levi wondered what had changed. He went to sleep curious, but couldn’t come up with an answer.

And then the next morning he was woken by a sound he’d never heard before. A loud meowing was coming from beneath him. Levi could hear the demand in that sound, and frowned as he carefully leaned his head over the edge of his hammock, instantly spotting the cat pacing through the grass. It was circling and weaving back and forth, but stopped once it saw Levi's face appear.

“Uh… morning, cat,” Levi greeted, confused but undeniably pleased for the obvious attention. The cat meowed once in reply, bright green eyes fixed on him as usual. “What?” Another meow, louder and longer. “Alright, alright, I’m coming down.” The cat meowed every now and then while waiting for Levi to get up, but went quiet as it watched Levi climb down from his perch.

Once Levi's boots touched the ground, it sauntered closer and looked up at him in what seemed to be anticipation. “I don’t have food for you,” Levi said, trying to make sense of the cat’s new behaviour. The cat made another adorable noise, not quite a meow, and for the umpteenth time, Levi crouched down and held out his hand.

For the first time in almost a week, the cat walked straight over a rubbed its face against his fingers. Levi couldn’t hide his surprised gasp quickly enough.

“So, you’re going to be nice to me now? Not going to be a thief anymore?” he questioned. The cat meowed softly, a slight trill reaching Levi's ears just after it. “That’s ok. I don’t think I want to be a thief anymore either.” The cat turned to face him with an expression Levi couldn’t possibly decipher, but Levi stroked its head and broke the eye contact, sighing gently. He looked over to the tower. “I’ve been wondering something, cat. Who’s taking care of you? Are you all alone? Are you a witches pet?” The cat continued to demand petting, but said nothing. Levi hummed to himself. “I wouldn’t mind if you were, you know, but I’m not so good with people. I haven’t seen anyone around here. Oh, but you had that owl visit that one night, right?”

The cat turned those big eyes on him again, and meowed a few times. Levi smiled. “It’s good that you have friends, I guess. I hear a guy tried to hit you with a hammer, cat. What an asshole.” Levi thought the cat might have nodded at that, but then it was ducking under his hand and walking off in front of him. Even knowing how independent this cat was, Levi couldn’t help but be disappointed at the loss of contact.

“Was it something I said?”

The cat looked over its shoulder at him, and then trotted off to its tower. The brick staircase slid out into place, and then the cat was running up it, pausing every now and then to glance down at Levi. When it got to the top, the sun shone on the key on its collar briefly, before it vanished through the window.

Levi didn’t know what was going on. Distracted, he went about his day without any sign of the cat. He went to the river to wash and fill his waterskin, he took the time to make a fire and have a hot meal for lunch, he organised his belongings despite already having them set out just as he wanted. Cat Tower remained void of activity throughout the day, no matter how often Levi checked. He touched the stone again and saw the glowing message, and thought of how he was brought here by nothing but a story.

Levi went for a walk.

It was close to sunset when he returned to his camp, and he was lost in thought when he climbed the tree and settled into his hammock early. A sudden meow brought him back to the present. Unlike that morning, the meow came from up in the trees with him. Levi whipped his head around to see the cat perched on the sturdy branch that Levi had tied one end of his hammock to.

Without further invitation, the cat picked up something in its mouth and leapt from the branch to land directly on Levi's chest. Levi let out a short huff of air at the impact, but recovered quickly. He was shocked that the cat would come up to see him.

“Hey, cat, what are you—?”

Before Levi could finish, the cat dropped what it was carrying on his chest. And then it made another leap to the branch in front of it, expertly navigated its way to the ground, and hightailed it back to the tower. Speechless, Levi sat up, his hand coming up to hold the cat’s gift. It was a short strip of leather. The collar.

The key.

Levi took a moment to breathe, but then jumped into action. He’d been overthinking everything recently, but this was his step forward. He could solve the mystery of Cat Tower now and ponder the future later. Boots on, he hurried down from his bed and over to the base of the tower, the key clutched tight in one hand. He brushed his free hand over the smooth stone to reveal the tower’s message, and then hesitated. There was no keyhole in sight, and if there was one anywhere else then Levi would have found it on the first day. Clueless, but not giving up, Levi holds the key up in front of him, hoping that it would trigger something.

One second passed. Then two. And on the third, the golden letters started to swirl and condense, until there were only two words left. It was still written in the Old Tongue, so Levi couldn’t read it, but the tower still continued to change so he didn’t have time to dwell on it. The words sparkled and vanished, and then the stones started to slide apart to make a doorway.

Levi was impressed at the display of magic, unused to seeing such feats happen right before his eyes. It was incredible to think that witches were capable of such things, and yet ordinary people shunned them because they were afraid of the unknown. Cautious of being caught by any more moving walls or floors, Levi entered the tower.

The room he walked into was bare, except for a few boxes and miscellaneous items piled by the wall, and although Levi was still unsure if anyone lived in the tower, the space was clean and airy. A stone staircase started on his left, and spiralled clockwise around the tower wall. Levi thought briefly about searching through the boxes – after all, the rumours spoke of priceless treasure – but his priority was finding out what was at the top.

Plus, the cat must be in here somewhere.

Levi climbed the stairs at a steady pace, listening for any suspicious sounds and hearing nothing. The room above the ground floor was very similar, seemingly used only for storage, but wasn’t one big, open area. Half of the room was walled off, and the wooden door that lead to that room was closed. Levi pushed aside his curiosity and continued upwards.

In the third room up, the staircase staggered itself a little to provide more space, and more than half of this room was walled off and hidden behind two closed doors. Levi ignored them. Red-orange sunlight shone through one of the small windows. He was almost there.

The staircase ended on the next level, and Levi was brought face-to-face with a dark-wood door with black iron hinges. He thought that he might have to use his borrowed key here again, but the doorknob had no keyhole underneath it, so Levi assumed there was no lock. Determined, he took a deep breath, and decided to knock.

“You can come in,” called a masculine voice on the other side. Levi hesitated for a moment, not expecting such a prompt reply, or even another human being, but then he reached for the doorknob and pushed the door open.

The first thing Levi noticed was the large window on the opposite wall from where he was standing, open to let air in. He’d made it to the top of the tower, and he knew that if he walked over and looked out, there would be an amazing view of the forest, and he would be able to see the spot where he’d made camp. This room was completely open and full of light, even at this time of day, and Levi could see that it was a multipurpose space.

Closest to him was a kitchen area with lots of shelves and cupboards and a small dining table with four chairs. Another area housed a bookshelf and a large oak desk with many drawers and space for various items. Books were spread on its surface, some open and some closed. The middle of the room was bare of actual furniture, but the floor was covered in a deep red, circular rug, and a few pillows had been placed on top of it. Much of the free space in the room was filled with plants, in big pots and small pots and even hanging from the wooden ceiling, species and varieties that Levi knew weren’t common because he’d never seen them in his life. There was a ladder on the wall to Levi's left that lead up to a trapdoor and a final attic room, and a creeper plant was growing up one side of it. Close to that was a huge comfortable-looking sofa, one that must’ve been custom made to fit the curve of the wall, and just on its other side was an armchair of similar style.

And in that armchair sat a teenage boy.

Levi's first impression was that he fit the room perfectly. The slight clutter and the effect of all the flora gave the whole space a barely-tamed feel, and the boy only added to that. He had thick, dark brown hair, longer and shaggier than Levi's but still parted neatly to show his forehead. He wore dark trousers and a long-sleeved top with a stretched, wide neckline that made his collarbones visible. His feet were bare. And by far his most interesting feature was his eyes; deep green and unwavering.

“Hello,” the boy said, tone polite and posture relaxed.

“Hello,” Levi repeated stiffly, having no idea what was going on.

“So, the cat gave you the key, huh?” The boy tilted his head slightly, questioning, and glanced down at Levi's hand. Levi held his hand up in front of him, the key resting on his palm. He frowned at it.

“Yes,” he said simply, wary of the conversation and where it might lead. The boy hummed.

“So the cat likes you. And you like cats. Don’t people give you trouble for that?” Levi thought over the words and his answer.

“I do like cats. And I can handle trouble, but people know not to bother me.” The boy smiled widely at this. “Where is your cat, now that you mention it?”

His question went ignored. “The cat knew from the second it saw you that you hadn’t got the magic touch.” Levi was about to make a remark about nimble fingers, but the boy continued. “Magic has touched you, however.” His green eyes narrowed as he ran his gaze over Levi's body, curious. Levi couldn’t hold back the slight shudder he felt at the mere thought of Hanji making physical contact with him, but made no word to deny the statement. The boy blinked slowly. There was a moment of silence. “You’re interesting.”

“I could say the same about you,” Levi replied.

“Ah, so you know what I am,” he said, tapping his fingers on the armrest.

“Kid, you live in a magic tower in the woods with a cat. You’re not exactly being subtle.” The witch’s eyes went wide, and then he burst into laughter, shaking his head and leaning back further into the cushions. Levi felt awkward standing in his home, but part of him was glad to finally get a positive reaction from the boy. Tension bled out of his back and shoulders.

The witch boy eventually got himself under control, the last of his laughter muffled behind one hand. He grinned and stood up from his seat – he was taller than Levi by a few inches too, he realised – and motioned for Levi to come further in.

“Sorry, I knew you were funny but that just caught me off guard.” Levi paused in the centre of the room.

“What do you mean you knew I was funny?” Only Hanji had ever described him as such, and if this continued he’d start thinking it was a thing with witch humour. “Have you been watching me?” The boy went quiet at this. He scratched the back of his head and looked off to the side. Because of that, Levi didn’t get caught staring at the blush that has risen on the boy’s cheeks.

“Well, I mean, not watching you. Um, the… the cat told me.” He ended the last sentence with such inflection that it mostly comes out as question, but Levi had no time to ask about it. The boy waved a hand dismissively and hurried on. “So, uh, I guess I should introduce myself.” He took a step forward but paused when he noticed he no longer had Levi's full attention. “What?”

It was just as he asked the question that an owl alighted on the windowsill, folding its wings in one fluid motion. Perched there silently, it looked between Levi and the witch boy with a slow swivel of its head. Levi's mind was only just catching up to its sudden appearance, and the fact that he had seen this white owl before, when it took a step forward and hopped into the tower room.

When the bird’s feet hit the stone floor it was no longer a bird, but a boy with long blonde hair and blue-black robes. A witch. A shifter. Levi never thought he’d see one in his entire life. That particular kind of magic was rumoured to be a lost art, and when it was around it had been rare and apparently incredibly difficult to master. Levi's brain helpfully supplied this knowledge in Hanji's annoying voice, their words coming back despite his best efforts to block them out. He was well aware that they had a keen interest in the subject, but Hanji couldn’t perform it even after reading piles of books. Apparently you couldn’t learn it from text. Shifting had to be taught by a shifter.

The blonde adjusted the white shirt collar peeking out from under his cloak, and then fixed the brunette with a disapproving look.

“Eren, what are you doing?” he asked flatly, glancing at Levi without changing his expression. “Mikasa is visiting today, I hope you remember, and just because she let you move out here alone doesn’t mean she’ll be happy to find you messing around.” The brunette, Eren as Levi now knows, sighed lightly.

“I’m not,” Eren replied with a smile, obviously ignoring the other witch’s scolding. “Let me introduce you to… um…”

“Levi,” Levi said.

“Yes, Levi.” Eren cleared his throat. His blush was still making his cheeks red. “Levi, this is Armin, my best friend.” Armin narrowed his eyes at Eren's dismissal, and gave Levi a suspicious look.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, his tone leaning towards polite but not quite reaching it. There was a pause, and then Levi brought his hands in front of his chest, putting his fingertips together with his fingers spread, and bowed slightly. A typical witch’s greeting. Levi had never been the kind of person to bother with or pride himself on being polite, but things were different when facing a strange new witch. He looked up to find Armin's eyebrows raised, his surprise clear, but there was no hesitation when the boy greeted him back. When the witch did it, the space between his hands started to glow pale blue the moment they touched; it was a part of the greeting that Levi couldn’t copy. Hanji always made red sparks fly, and he never knew the magic was personal to the witch.

Armin smoothed out his expression when he lifted his head. “Well, I know Eren didn’t teach you that. I look forward to hearing more about you, Levi,” he said, much happier. Levi simply nodded, following the conversation but unable to see where it was leading him once again. Eren was beaming at him, obviously impressed. Levi looked away again. The day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

“I can’t believe you ruined my introduction, Armin. What do you want?” There was no real irritation in Eren's voice, but he did punch Armin lightly in the shoulder. Armin threw a punch back, and then reached an arm into his cloak and pulled out a small pouch. Levi could tell that the little bag was filled with something much smaller than coins, yet Eren's eyes went wide and he fixated on the pouch instantly. “Is that…”

“Yes, indeed. I went out of my way to you-know-where to get you-know-what for you,” Armin replied, smirking as he held the drawstring pouch out of Eren's reach. Since Armin was shorter than Levi, this meant he soon had to jump up on the sofa in order to hold it high enough.

“Armin, come on, give it!” Eren whined, grabbing at Armin's robes and tugging at his arm.

“Well since you’re being so mean and punching me maybe I’ll keep it for another time.”

“You already punched me back, so come on.”

“No,” Armin laughed, obviously enjoying himself.

Levi watched them scuffle over the mystery item, his confusion reaching new heights. Armin was now on the arm of the sofa, and Eren was jumping and swiping at the pouch in an attempt to take it for himself. The action reminded him of the brown cat snatching some food from him earlier in the week. It was so similar that Levi almost laughed.

What came out of his mouth was a different sound, however, since he’d just spotted a tail flicking against Eren's legs. A brown tail with dark bands and a pure white tip. But the tail wasn’t attached to the cat Levi had been looking for. Instead, that tail disappeared under the hem of Eren's loose shirt. Both witches stopped their playing and turned to Levi, who could hardly take his eyes off Eren's new, fuzzy appendage.

“Ah, oops. The cat’s out of the bag,” Armin said, biting his lip and looking very unapologetic. Levi tore his eyes away to see Eren staring at him, and noticed a change there too. Eren's pupils had become slits. There was an awkward moment where none of them know quite what to do, and then Eren whirled around to face his friend.

“Armin! You ruined my big reveal!” he yelled. His tail lashed angrily behind him. Seeing it now, and knowing that Armin could turn into an owl, Levi didn’t understand why he hadn’t realised the truth sooner. Then, Levi hit another realisation. He’d been talking to a cat that wasn’t a cat all week.

With all the embarrassing things that he’d said to that cat, to Eren, rushing to the forefront of his mind, Levi turned and walked to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair and dropping heavily into it. Head in his hands, he tuned out the argument that had come to life again behind him.

A week ago, he’d set out to solve the mystery of Cat Tower. He thought it would be easy, and that he could satisfy his curiosity and carry on with his life afterwards. But Eren was a whole new mystery, one that he’d stumbled upon completely by accident, and that was a much more curious thing.