#her fur light brown with the white eyes and the black tip of ears and cheeks... mwah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lanitaminaj · 4 months

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once upon a dream

a strange man, or an entity, finds itself plastered on your wall. toji, you begin to learn, finds himself intertwined within your life. inspired by this post.

cw; female reader, sexual themes, cussing, mentions of suicide, mentions of death, paranormal, horror.

he simply stared, unmoving nor unblinking as he observed you.

you gazed back, your doe-eyes large and your babydoll-lips parted as they took in the entity etched on your lavender-purple bedroom wall.

"are you going to hurt me?" you rasped, your voice low as you kept your sleeping parents next door in mind.

he just smirked; the left corner of his lengthy, scarred lips were pulled mockingly upward.

"are you going to kill me in my sleep?" you whispered, your eyelids heavy as a tiny yawn escaped your plush lips.

his chest bounced, as if he was laughing in a tone impossible for your human ears to gather.

"okay," you shrugged, wrapping the pearl-white, cotton-soft blanket up to your shoulders.

he was merely composed of a head and a chest; composed of raven-black, messy tresses. his eyes were almond-shaped, their sunken composure indulged in your form as if you were prey. all you could make out beneath his thick, veiny neck was a set of toughened, herculean shoulders. even covered by the hellish-cloud of ink, you could make out every inch and bulge of inhuman brawn.

"what are you?" you questioned, your body comfortably entangled within the fluffy fabric. you knew he was outworldly, yet you couldn’t discern from where he’d come from. was he your guardian angel? a spiritual protector sent to guard you as you dreamt? or was he demonic, an impish spirit serving as a reminder of the sins living within you?

he, unsurprisingly, refrained from responding. his smirk dropped, yet his nightshade-eyes remained draped on you.

“fine,” you huffed, before you allowed exhaustion to envelop your resting form. Your feather-stuffed pillows molded themselves to accommodate the shape of your head, the baby-powder scent seducing you into succumbing to a peaceful slumber.

wordlessly, you blinked your eyes twice at the strange, ghastly man on your wall, before the world around you became pitch-black.

there was a little bunny that often paraded around in the emerald-green grass of your backyard. some mid-days, when your parents were off at work, you would gather some baby carrots from the refrigerator and feed the little creature. it was a cute thing, you decided, with its long, floppy ears and fur which copied the pattern of cowskin. the only difference was that the darker patterns were a light, caramel-brown rather than a deep, mocha-brown.

the soft baby chewed happily, a soft coo escaping your lips as its rosy-pink nose twitched happily.

the little bunny was an adorable distraction from the source of your recent frustration: the demon in your wall.

you’ve tried for weeks to try and communicate. on your side, you’ve provided a multitude of prompts to ask him.

“where’re you from?” was one. “what’s your name? why’re you in my room?” were others.

of course, there’d been a lack of answers from the demon, causing you to angrily cease your one-sided conversations.

you’d even gone as far as to script a lengthy paper to him, leaving it on the cedar-wood surface of your dresser one night for him to read. when you’d awoken, however, you discovered the letter to be ripped up and discarded messily on your oak-wood floor.

how rude.

your parents had been gone; your father was harvesting bee-honey while your mother attended to her floral shop.

you picked up the little bunny, holding its bustling form close to your warm chest. a light breeze whispered around you, an indignation of the twilight-purple evening sky’s soon arrival.

your bare feet kissed the blades of the clover-green grass, ignoring how the sharp tips provoked slight pain as you stepped. you trekked through the vanilla-white door of the baby-blue painted cottage, the wood underneath you groaning as you inched closer and closer to your lavender-lilac room.

your bedsheets had been in a disarray; all messy with the indent of your body pressed into them. your single window had been cranked open, the smell of ivory and pine-trees surrounded your room. your cotton, white blanket reminded you of the clouds you’d seen that morning. the bubblegum-pink tulip on your dresser was dying.

“there you go,” you softly cooed, gently setting the shaking bunny on your cloudy comforter. it settled in quite nicely, its little nose nuzzling the comforting texture and smell of your bed.

you peered at your wall. he wasn’t there.

a timid grumbling caught your attention.

your eyes widened, your ears focusing on the rumbling occurring again. it didn’t take you long to realize the bunny’s stomach had been thundering, its doll-eyes peering up at you pleadingly.

“hungry?” you questioned it, as if the furry creature could truly understand your human words. it appears that it could, however, its whiskers twitching in response.

“okay,” you nodded, your legs setting for the kitchen. “wait here,” you commanded. “i’ll find you some food.”

there hadn’t been much, honestly. your mother’s produce jars had been empty, the only evidence of there ever being fruits were the royal-blue blueberry and scarlet-red raspberry juices that lined the glasses. you had honey-baked bread, but you weren’t sure if bunnies could eat loaves. a jug of lamb’s milk sat tranquilly in the refrigerator, but you figured it’ll make the tiny creature sick.

suddenly, you remembered the strawberries that your father had been planting. sauntering out the door once more, you set forth to the patch that grew quietly near your home.

like a christmas tree, the bush stood soldierly while the blooming strawberries served as ornaments.

you picked gingerly from it, making sure to pick generously in fear of your father being upset.

somewhat alone, the wind’s embrace and the soft singing of the mockingjays accompanied you as you slipped into a daze.

you thought of your parents, how often tired, yet content, they seemed with their lives. your mother’s serene smile was a sight you adored, while your nose regularly basked in your father’s constant scent of honey. you thought of your little world, how you indulged in simple pleasures such as reading jane austen and producing grains of your own poetry. the other townies often depict these simple pleasures as boring, yet there was some comfort gained in you as you embraced your creative side.

there wasn’t much time left to indulge in your deepest thoughts, of course, as you remembered the little bunny that laid hungry in your bed. swiftly, you gathered the harvested strawberries as you set off for your home, the tranquil little cottage soft in your honeyed-eyes.

you trampled through the door, a whistle on your lips as you chopped up the strawberries in a tiny, heart-shaped ceramic plate. it was a ruby-red shade, messily painted with strawberry and tomato juice from when you were seven-years-old.

“bunny,” you called, your voice sweet and high like a hummingbird’s song. the bunny refrained from trotting to the kitchen, its soft paws against the wooden-floor abstained from entering your ears. you turned towards your bedroom door, the pearl-white hatch suddenly closed and foreboding. you couldn’t remember if you sealed it before you slipped out, yet you disregarded it as an unimportant thought compared to the direness at hand.

“bunny?” you called once more, crouching slowly towards your bedroom with the heart-shaped plate in your left hand. the door ahead of you was coated with hand-painted lavender and pink tulips that scattered beautifully against the colorlessness of the canvas. the sky behind you had turned into a hue of tangerine-orange and violet-purple.

the door creaked as you pushed it open. the plate in your hand thunderously shattered as it dropped in shards against your bedroom floor.

near the lavender wall, where the entity lived, laid your little bunny.

a sob emerged from your throat. your beloved bunny rested in the hands of the entity, the furry creature coated in blood as the wall’s ghost ate from it. when it was done, it simply tossed the slain bunny on the ground, a squelch sound made as it dropped in its scarlet-red bloody pool.

you submerged the urge to vomit, yet couldn’t fight the urge to pass out.

a coral-pink bowl of tomato-soup laid carefully against the palms of your slightly-shaking hands.

you observed the entity, the inhuman-man licking the bunny’s blood that had coated on his fingers.

you hadn’t quite noticed it, but the entity was growing.

he grew arms, the muscles bulging and long. his hands were just as big, with veins coating throughout the flesh. or, form? you wondered if his veins contained blood, or if they were like plant vines. you imagined it was the latter. after the events from earlier, you were convinced that this thing was surely subhuman.

and yet, you couldn’t halt yourself from showing some form of sympathy for it. “i didn’t know you were hungry,” you grumbled, your eyes darting down as you simultaneously spooned your soup. you weren’t very hungry; your appetite had been satiated for at least a week. “i would’ve gotten you something had you just told me.”

he simply stared, his sharp-eyes trained on your smaller form as he sucked. you could feel the little smirk that rested on his bloodied lips. barbaric, you couldn’t help but think. your thoughts translated on your face, a subconscious snarl present on your angry lips.

“you’re evil,” you choked out, placing the soup-bowl on your pearl-white nightstand. “i’m not speaking to you anymore.”

you tucked yourself into bed, your pillowy-sheets brought up to your warm face. you could imagine that the entity was simply staring at you, that nonchalant expression on his face as if he couldn’t care less about eating your precious baby bunny. you tried your best to block out any thoughts of today’s events, your subconscious allowing your mind to dream of pleasant things such as your mother’s cherry-lime pie and your father’s lullabies from your childhood.

within a few minutes, you succumbed to sleep.

by the time you woke up the next morning, you feigned surprise at the entity not being plastered on your wall. good, you thought. yet, there was some wicked pulse in your heart that ached at the usual disappearance of the ghost.

your legs carried you out of bed, your yawning self delighted at the sight of your mother and father eating and chatting blissfully at the kitchen table.

“good morning, honey,” your mother greeted, her lips planting a small kiss on your rosy-pink cheeks. your father squeezed your arm.

“honey,” his resonant voice boomed. “i think my strawberries have bloomed, can you pluck them?”

your back fought the urge to straighten itself rigid, your voice fighting the urge to say “i’ve actually plucked some yesterday”.

you complied, however, like the good daughter you were. “i’ll go get them,” you beamed, grabbing the woven-basket near the front door before you set off for the meadows.

it wasn’t anything peculiar. you merely picked the remaining berries, placed them in your basket, and set off back home. you arrived back to your parents on the porch, their tanned fingers wrapped around mason jars filled with what appeared to be peach-tea.

“honey,” your mother sang your childhood nickname. “set the basket down in the kitchen. we left a glass on the counter for you.”

“thanks, mama,” you thanked, your steps echoing as you entered the tiny kitchen. you sat the basket down, yet something peculiar occurred. a thumping sound emerged, a noise consistent and erratic as it bounced frighteningly on what you determined to be on hardwood-flooring. you listened intently, before you realized the sound was coming from your own bedroom.

your skin suddenly felt very cold.

your crept towards your room, your heart pumping as your hand pushed gently against your colorful door. you swore your heart fought not to stop as the door creaked eerily.

the thumping stopped once you entered your room. you froze, your mind racing with a multitude of thoughts at once. oh god, you cried to yourself. perhaps i’m losing my mind. it wouldn’t be a possibility too far fetched. after all, what sane person sees a ghost in their wall?

but then, there it was. a bunny emerged from under your bed, the thumps it created verified that it was the source of the anxious noises produced. you sighed, but then you realized under sudden inspection that this wasn’t just any bunny. its long, floppy ears; its caramel-brown cowskin patterns.

this was your bunny.

“what,” you breathed to yourself, its pink nose wobbling as it inched closer to you. you couldn’t believe it; your little bunny had been brought back to life?

you bent down to scratch the beloved creature behind its ears, but gasped as it disappeared underneath your touch. within a heartbeat, it was gone once more.

you choked back a sob.

“no,” you huffed, your throat tightening and your heart broken. “no, my bunny.”

a tear slid down your cheek, before something in the corner of your eyes caught your attention. you turned your head, your eyes widening in pure surprise.

there, on your wall, decorated with black-gunk, purple-ink and burgundy-blood, was a simple appellation.

toji.

when you first started seeing choso, you refrained from bringing him home for select reasons.

for one, you didn’t want your parents to flock and coo around him like doves. for two, you didn’t want him to be frightened by the man in your wall.

toji, you discovered, had gotten stronger as the days progressed. the wall carved out indentations of his thighs, the tendons within them muscular and large. similar to his arms, you noted.

you additionally noticed how jealous he’d get, for reasons you didn’t quite know.

during late nights, when your parents were whisked away by either deep sleep or work duties, you found yourself gushing over choso to the shadow man.

“he’s a gentleman,” you blushed, your fingers toying with the loose fabrics on your comforter. “he sometimes doesn’t have much to say, but he’ll bring me little flowers here and there. specifically baby’s breath cause they’re my favorite. i’m surprised he remembered i told him that the one time i did.”

toji kept that common smirk on his ghastly face, yet his features often altered when he heard you speak about choso. for one, his eyes switched. a fire ignited in them, a violet-purple glint in them that never went unnoticed. his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, with his nose flaring ever so slightly.

there was one day you were enthused over choso so bad that it caused toji to completely disappear for three nights, only to smugly reemerge as you pathetically called his name in the dead of night. you’ve received the message, of course. you’ve refrained from raving to toji about your date after those nights.

tonight, however, you’ve gotten the home to yourself. your parents had been flocked away to attend to some dire work obligations, their presence not revered as that meant you were able to bring choso in. you’ve forgotten about one presence, however, too blissed out to remember.

you ransacked your parents’ liquor cabinet, your fingers pulling out a bottle of jack daniel’s tennessee honey whiskey. your father’s favorite.

it was disgusting, of course, your lips pressing bitterly into each other as you took little shots of it. you were never a huge alcohol enthusiast, but you read somewhere that it was an aphrodisiac. from the way a sudden warmth blossomed between your thighs coupled with the way you could feel your tits hardening underneath your white-sundress, you knew the effects were taking place. with choso’s low-eyes and his palm practically caressing your bare calf, you could tell that the alcohol was affecting him as well.

“you’re beautiful,” he uttered above the soft voices of ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong singing ‘the nearness of you’ on the living room’s mahogany-wooden vinyl player.

“thank you,” you breathed before the sudden liquid courage got a hold of you. you got a hold of his hand, guiding it so that it reached the inner warmth of your thighs.

“do you wanna?” you asked sweetly, your cunt dampening as you heard choso rasp out a soft little ‘fuck’.

“we’re all alone, right?” choso asked, to which you gently nodded your response. “no interruptions?”

“no interruptions,” you promised, before letting yourself be whisked away to your bedroom with your date in tow.

he was so muscular; a fact you didn’t know as his body was constantly concealed underneath the robes and baggier fabrics that he donned. his buffed chest rubbed consistently against your softer breasts, causing them to swell underneath his touch. melodic moans and gasps escaped from your lips, your eyes pressed shut from intense ecstasy and pleasure. his cock, god. his cock was veiny and thick; your lips had previously been wrapped around his salmon-pink dick as it began to rise in your throat. currently, it was being punched routinely in-and-out of your tight, soaked cunt. your nails dug into the man’s pale-back, the ruby-red scratches contrasted beautifully against his canvas-like skin.

it was all too much; you didn’t know if you’d be able to withstand how his cock was fucking you deeply and roughly as he breathed heavily in your ear.

“yeah, you like that?” you could hear his heavenly, sexed-out voice question you. the boldness and confidence in his words caused your blissful eyes to open-up slightly, before they immediately bolted-open in shock.

just a few centimeters from your face had been choso’s own, yet something had changed in his eyes.

they glew a violet-purple hue. right there, just below his sweating nose, was his mouth; his lips were pressed into a familiar, hunting smirk.

you could’ve died right there, but you would’ve found it absolutely humiliating for your tombstone to read; death by bomb-ass-dick.

“yeah,” choso’s voice questioned once more, yet your heart thumped at you in both nirvana and in warning. was this truly choso? “you love this dick, don’t you?” he spoke, causing you to subconsciously moan in response. “love how your cunt squeezes on it, huh?”

“yes,” you nonetheless answer, too fucked out to ponder anything less in the moment. “love this dick.”

“love how it makes you go dumb, don’t you?” choso’s voice began to transform into something unfamiliar. the base in his voice lightened, yet changed its tone to that of something more cocksure. a voice you would later be able to put a face to.

“choso,” you whined, an action that erupted voluminous noises to pass out your mouth as choso slammed his cock deeper in your throbbing pussy. a veiny hand snuck to grasp at your blushing tit, before the same hand trailed upward to carefully hold your throat.

“you’re mine,” he hissed, as if something were causing him great pain. “all fucking mine. this cunt belongs to me.”

“all yours, choso,” you swore, your head bobbing up and down the best it could against the grasp of his hand. you could feel the wave of your orgasm beginning to crash, your heightened ah,ah,ah’s the indicator of what was starting to arise.

“gonna cum, aren’t you?” choso solicited, his fingers rubbing against your cunt’s pearl. “cum then, pretty girl.”

and so you did. you cried as your cunt clenched around his cock. choso groaned at the vanilla-reminiscent ring of cream you produced, the man pulling out just as he filled the trojan wrapped around his tip with his own salty-flavored cream. with a huff, he pulled the condom off his cock before he tossed it in the midnight-black tiny trash can behind him, his naked body then collapsing adjacent to yours.

you laid like that for a while, your bare breasts rhythmically rising up-and-down with each deep breath you took. you allowed your left forearm to press against your shut eyelids, allowing yourself a moment to recover from the orgasm that passed you.

“that was good,” you laughed through a string of heaving breaths. “did you like it?”

“yeah,” choso replied, a hint of confusion inked his steady voice. a pregnant pause filled the air, his arm draping across your bare shoulders. “would you find it crazy if i said i didn’t remember any of it?”

“what?” you chuckled, taking his words to be some form of a joke. your laughter halted, however, once you took in his serious lips contorted to that of a flat line. “did you black out?” you then question, your breasts bowing shamelessly as you sat up against your soft pillows.

“i might’ve,” he shrugged, allowing his form to press into your blanket underneath him. he left it as that, causing you to sigh out an ‘oh’ and nod your head dumbly. you wanted to say how he seemed normal, his usual self except for the fact he was a much bolder personality in bed. you blamed that on the arousal, however. wasn’t it normal for one to act more daring during sex?

“i’ve got to get going, anyways,” choso suddenly remarked, his taller figure swiftly bouncing off your bed which left you downhearted. you loved company; those fleeting moments after sex never failed to even be cherished by your heart. “your parents will be home sometime soon, won’t they?”

“yeah,” you smiled, although it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. it was sad. you felt like a pathetic little puppy dog all depressed once its owner had to leave for work. “do you want me to walk you out?”

“sure, honey.”

you then quickly threw on your discarded sundress from off the floor, trailing behind choso as his fully-dressed form strode casually through the living room, his right hand clasping around the front door’s handle.

“are you free next saturday?” you asked him, a blush on your face as he bent down to kiss your warm cheek. “yes,” he replied, flicking your cheek as if wiping an invisible tear from it. “i’ll call you. goodnight.”

and then he was off. “goodnight,” you called after him, closing the door behind him as you did. you didn’t lock it, of course, for your parents’ sake.

trailing sadly back to your room, you screamed at the sight before you.

it was toji, but he’d been out of the wall. there he was, in all his cruel glory, sitting nonchalantly on the edge of your bed. he’d developed his lower limbs; his legs and thighs, of course, just as muscular as the rest of him. yet, there was something about him that contrasted his buff appearance. maybe it was his clenched waist, a waist you slightly envied. maybe it was his fringed hair-style, an unserious look for a demon.

he looked, nonetheless, dare you even say it, normal for an evil creature. in evil creature standards?

and then you felt ridiculous for casting so much attention onto his appearance when there was a much larger issue at stake.

“what are you doing on my bed?”

he didn’t answer, of course, his devilish eyes glancing up-and-down your swaying form. you wondered what he was thinking about, wondering if you could even touch him. you strode towards him, your thoughts governing your impulsive thoughts. your hand stretched to caress his cheek, but right before you did, he vanished.

you gasped, goosebumps growing across your skin as you felt the presence of him running up and down your arms. his aura possessed you entirely, but not literally; in a metaphorical sense, toji’s spirit danced all throughout your shivering form. you could tell he reappeared behind you, the buzzing sensation of his arms interlocked across your waist as he put his ghostly lips just below your earlobe. it must be frustrating, you thought as you allowed him to quietly take you in. it must be frustrating to not be able to communicate, at least not in the vocal way.

he bit at your earlobe a little, causing you to laugh angelically at the playful, ticklish feeling. you could feel his chest against your back bounce happily. at least you knew entities could laugh.

he placed a little kiss at the nape of your neck, his arms unlinking themselves from you. you turned around, interested in seeing what clever expression toji would have on his handsome, evil face. your smile dropped when you discovered he wasn’t there, wasn’t hiding away in any little corner of your room.

“toji?” you called, but to no avail. “toji?” you nonetheless tried again, your legs pacing across your room and into different parts of the cottage room in some attempt to find him. he was gone.

that night, he hadn’t returned to the wall, either. you’ve gotten used to his glowing eyes staring you down as you slept, a strange conformality you so desperately missed. even when your parents returned home, kissing you a goodnight on the top of your forehead, you still found yourself crying to sleep.

the sorrowful cries continued throughout the duration of two-weeks, the fever of your sobs heightening as you would soon discover choso had been found expectedly dead the week afterward.

everything felt the same to you these days.

your bedsheets had gone unwashed for four weeks, the comforter stained with the scarlet-red residue of your menstrual and your pillows damped by your constant tears. you’ve been planning on washing them, of course, had your father not reminded you that the blueberries were ready to be harvested.

“your mother had been planning on making blueberry compote,” he explained, clearing his throat as he reassuringly rubbed your arm as you laid motionless in bed. “blueberry compote over those buttermilk pancakes you like.”

you thanked God you at least had parents who loved you. if it hadn’t been for them, you would’ve hung yourself with your soiled bed sheets. you’ve been having those thoughts at least once a day, now.

puffy-eyed, you zoned out as you carelessly plucked at the blueberries, chucking them in your mother’s woven basket. why couldn’t your father pick his own blueberries? you tried to think positively, this outdoorsy excursion providing some form of distraction from your own thoughts.

there were no bunnies hopping aimlessly around the grassy-patch. there were no songbirds chirping melodically among themselves. there was only you, the woven basket, the fucking blueberries.

then there was a snapping. your head jerked in the direction of what you determined to be an animal stepping on a fallen branch. you hadn’t seen anything; your eyes narrowed before they darted back to watch your own hands work.

another snap. you tilted your head once more, your heartbeat beginning to race. two more snaps commenced, causing your legs to rise up to your full length.

and then, emerging from the bushes and branches of the forest just to the right of you, there he stood.

“choso?” you gasped, the blueberry basket in your grasp collapsed towards where your feet rooted.

there were clear indications that it was him; his exhausted, heavily bruised eyes, his cocoa-brown tresses, the scars that laid across his delicate nose’s bridge. yet, there was something sinisterly new about him. his eyes were narrowed, his gaze pointed hungrily at you as if you were a delicious bambi-doe. his lips curled upward into a simper, as if there was some inside joke between him and only him. his irises, interestingly enough, glowed a soft, orchid-purple hue.

realistically, you should’ve known that it wasn’t truly choso. he wasn’t Jesus, the simple human unable to rise himself up from his perish after months. perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the desperation that constantly lurked through every crevice of your brain. you ran to him, ran to the figure who you presumed to be your beloved choso.

“choso,” you sobbed and heaved pathetically against his chest. you hugged your arms tightly around his waist, so tight that the man could die again. your body mournfully bounced against his, your tears so intense they stained the entire front of his tunic. he merely patted your head with his right hand, his left hand softly held your waist. “you have no idea how bad i missed you,” you hiccuped, your body suddenly heaving over as if you were about to throw up.

his hands, their softened nature, tenderly held your damp face. he peered deep into your eyes, as if he was opening the gateway to your soul.

“choso,” you rasped once more, before he pulled you in to plant an amorous, long kiss on your lips. you hadn’t quite known what ghost lips tasted like; maybe Earth and rot. you internally gagged. you thanked God, however, that ghost kisses tasted exactly like nothing. there’d been no smell nor taste, similarly to those unscented soap bars your mother would make every first of the month.

you kissed for quite a long time; his tongue suddenly found itself slipped deviously inside your mouth. you moaned, his ghostly hands curiously exploring the mounds and curves of your body.

you don’t recall how or when, but you do remember finding your back kissing the bark of an old sycamore tree. his hands roamed throughout your body, his hands cupping the softness of your tits and the plumpness of your ass. you squealed in his mouth, feeling his cock harden against your thighs.

he fucked you right there and then, his cock suddenly in his hands before he slipped it between the warm folds of your cunt.

you moaned, the songbirds above you seem to chirp along to every little sound you made. he ripped the top of your baby-pink dress, your hardened tits peeking out at him as he pinched them. he nipped at the soft of your neck, his bite becoming intense as you began to reach nirvana.

“fuck,” you rasped, your eyes shut in ecstacy as your mouth formed an erotic ‘o’ shape. “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

you peeked an eye out, your movements and noises suddenly stilling as you noticed toji’s face smirking back at you.

you then orgasmed, your screams of both pleasure and horror scattered the crows that were once perched on the tree branches above you. you fell to your knees, your screams growing in fervor as tears began to stream down your trembling face.

you remained in your state of shock, even long after your father had ran to you and carried you home. the basket of blueberries had been left on the ground.

everyone had thought you were crazy; you were sure of it. you were beginning to think you were truly crazy, too.

you were in your bed once more, a bowl in your hands. hazelnut soup this time, another one of your mother’s delicacies.

you felt awful; your head was throbbing, your eyes were puffy, your ass hurt from falling on it. you were sure your hair looked disarrayed, but external beauties didn’t mean shit if internally you felt suicidal.

your parents had left you at home again, your father heading off to town to find a shrink while your mother set off to find some medicinal treatments. town wasn’t too far, thankfully, so you wouldn’t be left alone for too long.

in the window behind you, something tapped irregularly. you ignored it, at first, your perpetual state of numbness too strong to escape from. you only managed to snap out of it when something hard was thrown at your window, the sudden bang of it making you jump in place. you scurried to the sill, your shaky hands swiftly opening the pane to peek your head out.

nothing save for the cool breeze and howling owls were out there. peculiar.

closing the window behind you, you immediately shouted when you turned back round to face your bed.

there he was again; choso’s form, but toji’s face inhibited it. it was something out of those stephen king novels, something so eerie it couldn’t possibly be reality.

“leave me alone,” you howled, falling to your knees and scurrying to the corner of your room where the evil entity prowled closer. “leave me the fuck alone.”

“why?” choso’s raspy, creaky voice questioned, when in truth it was truly toji’s. his smug face sneered, his sharp teeth bared and shining.

you screamed, your hands interlocked as you dug your face into your shaky knees. you rocked madly back and forth, the stench of rot and swamp drawing closer to your trembling form.

“what’re you so scared of?” the terrifying tone questioned, his hands resting on your moistened-from-sweat thighs. you timidly glanced from between your tresses, your heart suddenly stopping once you took in toji’s face. you could feel the pumping in the organ coming to a halt, your pupils dilating to the extreme as your mouth was opened in a silent scream. his purple-hued scleras coupled with the emergence of sharp, razor-teeth influenced every tissue in your body to remain very still. you could see the entity move closer to your horrified form, the teeth then sinking harshly into the skin of your neck. you couldn’t even wail; you were forced to wordlessly endure his brutal torture.

your waterlines, to toji’s accord, began to kiss each other as your eyes found themselves closed shut. the sensation of an unexpected breeze whoosked throughout your entire body; had you could, you would’ve intensely shivered. the hair on your skin’s surface found itself raised, and then instantaneously rested. the world around you had grown quiet and dark, a fact you were able to govern even from behind the mulberry-colored darkness of your eyelids.

you felt very light, like a fairy soaring over a beautiful field of dandelions. there’d been no weight on you, not from what you feel as you arose from what appeared to be an extremely restful slumber. you rubbed your eyes, your brain too foggy and tired to completely register the darkness that encompassed your glowy figure. you’d then noticed, of course, as you eventually would’ve had to, anyways.

you rubbed your eyes once more, somehow convinced that this would’ve changed the trajectory of your current predicament. “mom?” you called out, your voice light and unsure as you contemplated if this was another nightmare you were in. no response from your mother, as predicted. you began to slightly panic, your chest labored and your airy legs began to pace in circles. “dad?” you wailed, your voice growing in tremor. “mom? dad?”

“they’re not here,” a voice – toji’s – captivated your startled form. you spun dangerously around, your vocal chords dancing as you screamed bloody murder.

“where am i?” you sobbed, sinking down to your knees as you cried and shook. “where’s my parents?”

“they’re not here,” toji simply repeated, his muscular, whispery legs drawing closer to your woeful, tiny body. “you’re home.”

“no,” you hissed, crawling away from toji’s extended arms and handsome smile. “no, i’m not fucking home.”

his smile never faltered, but the little devilish gleam in his eyes subdued. “you are,” he insisted, your angry scowl and furrowed eyebrows challenging his claim. “this is your home now, too.”

“the fuck are you talking about?” you cussed, your smart-mouth suddenly shutting as he presented you with an image. your sight was replaced with the visual of your cold, murdered body on your bedroom’s oakwood-floors. your beloved parents had been crying over you, crowding your form.

your throat tightened as you felt the urge to gag.

“no!” you wailed, your body shaking violently as you pressed yourself deeper into the deception-flooring beneath you. “nonononowhycouldyoudothistomehowcouldyoudothistomewhatthefuckareyou.”

toji simply stared, unmoving nor unblinking as he observed you.

“isn’t this what you wanted?” you could hear him question, a sheen of scarlet-red coated your vision as you peered up at him through glaring eyes.

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

“that one night,” he began, his expression and tone steady. “when you wrapped that fabric around your neck-”

“-that was not for you to fucking take,” you interrupted, unable to bring your dead spirit form off the floor. “that would’ve been on my fucking terms, toji.”

silence. you found yourself growing silent for a beat, too.

“i’m enamored with you,” toji then admitted, your eyes softening not from love, but from pure defeat.

“why, toji?” you couldn’t help but question. “why did you have to appear in my wall?”

“i saved you,” he responded, surprisingly without cockiness or smugness.

you scoffed.

“you had a mundane life-”

“-i had a happy life,” you corrected. “comfortable, even.”

“is that why you tried to kill yourself?”

“oh my fuck-” you screamed, burrowing your head into into your palms.

“don’t fight it,” you could hear toji say, and you could hear the stupid little smirk he had plastered throughout his words.

“what now?” you despairingly questioned his ghostly, vibrant form. “what do you expect from me, now?”

“i expect you to wed me,” he shrugged, his head cocked as if that statement had been fucking truly expected.

nonetheless, you did wed him. it was a simple wedding; a few other ghostly figures attended, none of which you personally recognized. toji tried to pass them off as your ancestors, but you knew he was lying shamelessly through his teeth. you hadn’t worn a beautiful gown, nor had he’d worn a luxurious tux. you’d both been adorning the outfits you’d passed on in the human realm.

it’s funny, you noted; funny how the only marriage you’d ever have would not have come until you were passed into the spirit realm. you used to daydream about your possible marriage to choso, now here you were getting wed to his murderer. you wondered where choso’s spirit had gone, his presence not sensed nor seen in the small crowd present. you suspected that he’d gone to a better place, perhaps somewhere like heaven. he was an angel on earth with you, it would only be right for him to be where lightness constantly shone on his skin like crystals.

toji simply had his soul banished.

“do you accept her to be your wife?” the unearthly priest-ghost questioned.

“i do,” toji answered.

the priest swiveled to peer into you, his pearl-like eyes sunken into his wrinkled-face.

“do you accept…” his cracked voice began. “...to take toji as your husband for eternity?”

you peered into the eyes of toji, his scalera’s enticing as they shone an adoring hue of orchid-purple just for you.

“i do.”

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #toji x y/n #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen

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conchiferrous · 6 months

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warrior cat drawing meme i keep seeing where you draw ashfur cinderpelt bluestar and crowfeather all next 2 each other

[IMAGE ID: Digitally drawn Warrior Cat fan art. It's four full body drawings of Ashfur, Cinderpelt, Bluestar, and Crowfeather, all in cartoon styles. Ashfur is standing, he looks bored and is glancing to the right. He has the unneutered cat cheeks and depicted as chubby. He has long fur coming from his forehead covering one of his eyes to mimic sad emo hair. He is gray with black spots, blue eyes, and peach ears and nose. There is a black stripe going down the middle of his heart shaped nose. The ends of this hair and his tail are tipped in white with a thick black border. His tummy and chest are white as well. His whiskers are drooping. Cinderpelt is standing with her chest puffed out a bit and holding her bad leg up. She is staring to the right and looks very excited. Most of her body mass is her thick fluffy chest and thick fluffy tail. Her head has thick cheeks and her legs are thick. She's mostly solid dull grayish brown with a lighter tan gray on her muzzle, inner ears, chest, and stomach. Her nose and inside her mouth is dark blue and her eyes are bright blue. Bluestar is sitting down, and has a serious look on her face. Her edges are sharp and her fur is scruffy and sticks out at random places. Her ears are tattered and has scars on her muzzle, legs, and tail. Her fur and nose are a dull periwinkle color. The lower half of her face, her chest, paws, and inner ears are all tan. Her tail tip is a darker periwinkle, and her eyes are icy blue. Her whiskers are unkempt and jagged. Crowfeather is standing with one of his hind legs stretched behind him. He looks annoyed and has his light purple mouth opened as if he's arguing with someone. His eyes are huge and round, and they're half closed with light purple eyelids. His ears are huge and round and are colored a light gray on the inside, matching his nose. His entire pelt is solid black, matching the line art. The background is abstract and light green. END ID]

#warrior cats #ashfur #cinderpelt #bluestar #crowfeather #2024 #couldnt tell if part of the challenge was drawing them in bust shots but it didnt say so so #id in desc

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

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last christmas, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Last Christmas, she gave you her heart, wrapped up with a note saying, I love you. She meant it. This Christmas, you give her back the stuff she left at your place and run into her next-door neighbor that knew all about your love. Somehow, you end up explaining why it went wrong.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of previous w/w relationship; pansexual reader; mentions of bad parents and discrimination / prejudice; reader def needs a therapist and Jeon Jungkook is not a therapist; JK is also reader's ex-gf's next-door neighbor; pining; awk tension; I cannot shut up about JK's big peepers; smut (fem reader, a lot of making out [both lips and bodies], light scratching, so much grinding, cowgirl); motorcycle-owning!JK takes you on a ride, whee

inspired by Wham!'s 'Last Christmas'; you are the shitty ex, don't read this unless you're okay with that and, yes, some decisions are made

You handed the bag over.

“This is it.”

“T… Thanks.”

The cold stung your cheeks. Around your neck was a dark green and black plaid scarf, thick layers shielding your heart that was exposed to the winter thanks to your open parka. Your hands returned to their tucked position in your fleece-lined pockets. You smiled, ever so slightly.

“You look pretty. The short hair suits your face well.”

She reached up to touch the tips of the chin-length bob, wispy front bangs framing her gentle eyes, not quite looking at you. You noticed her short nails were painted a light shimmery gold, suiting the holiday season. Her lips pursed and she breathed in deeply, looking straight into your eyes.

“Don’t say stuff like that. We’re not together anymore,” she said decisively.

“Ah… right.”

You left the smile on your face.

Right, because you could no longer compliment a person after dating them and then breaking up with them. Rules of some code apparently you didn’t get the memo for. The breeze whipped around your body, chilling moments as you stood at the doorstep of your former lover, feeling a strange kind of satisfaction seeing in her shiver in her fuzzy cream sweater and fleece pajama pants, complete with ivory fur slippers. But those thoughts were cruel to think and so was the bitterness.

She glanced at you.

You felt bad, seeing the glisten in her eyes.

In a box labelled donations in your apartment, there was a knit scarf, checkered peach and cream, the note included long gone, probably in a trashcan. Last Christmas, that scarf had been in silvery wrapping paper with a white silk ribbon, the package shaking in her hands and accompanied by a nervous smile, handed over for you to open, seeing the note first and then the handmade gift.

I love you above the handiwork of love.

It wasn’t the very next day, but you were still giving it away.

“I hope you have a nice holiday,” you said, bowing lightly.

“A-Ah, yeah,” she stuttered, clutching the brown bag of the few sweaters and joggers she had left at your apartment, all laundered and folded neatly the way she usually folded them. You had remembered, and this would be the last time you needed to remember how to delicately tuck sweaters into themselves like cake rolls. “I’m going to see my mom and dad. You should…” And she trailed off, knowing full well you weren’t going to see your parents. “You should eat something nice.”

You nodded.

Smile.

“I will. Take care.”

You took a step back and bowed again, taking your graceful exit from the front porch of that apartment that you would never walk into again.

You headed for the stairs, being careful when it came to the snow-slicked stone steps. Good thing your black boots had sturdy, thick treads. You reached back and pulled the hood of your parka up, fleece blanketing your head and ears, instantly warming your cold hair. It was already getting dark. You barely saw the sun these days, with work and all. There was something nice about the winter evening though, not as thick as the humid summer nights. Crisp and chilly, sure, but maybe you could argue that was all you were anyway.

Shit, holding a pity party for yourself? That’s rich.

The voice was inner self-loathing was nice and loud tonight, huh.

You heard your name being called from the garage at the bottom of the stairs. You looked up to see a familiar resident of these apartments.

Your ex-girlfriend’s next-door neighbor, in fact.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

He smiled and waved, jogging over, something large and round under his arm. Black leather jacket, his gloves matching his jacket. Black jeans. Heavy-duty boots. You took a couple steps towards him, and then you spied the parked motorcycle, and finally recognizing that it was a motorcycle helmet he was holding. The sweater underneath with the somewhat tacky, bright red-and-white candy cane print didn’t quite match the rest of his ensemble.

He looked down when he realized you were staring at his chest and laughed. “Ah, yeah, I came back from a work party. Christmas lunch before we go on break. Theme was ugly sweaters.”

You blinked. “You could have tried harder.”

He grinned. “Yeah, my co-worker Jimin said that too, but I told him he was ugly enough for us both.”

You shook your head with a sheepish smile as the young man looked way too proud of himself burning someone who wasn’t even here to defend themselves. Well, supposedly he burned them publicly already. Poor Jimin. You had never met this Park Jimin Jungkook occasionally talked about, but they seemed to have a brotherly friendship, complete with Jungkook providing shithead younger brother quips.

“I haven’t seen you around lately,” Jungkook said, tilting his head.

Oh. Right.

You pointed up and prepared yourself to say it again and again until everyone knew.

“We broke up.”

“Oh…” His expression fell, big round brown eyes and the downturn of his lips. Man, Jeon Jungkook looking sad was not something you realized you needed to brace yourself for until now. It almost made you sad seeing his expression. “I’m sorry to hear that. I liked watching movies with you two, since you like Marvel stuff.”

You chuckled. “I’m not banned from going to the theater. I can still go to opening nights with you, if you want.”

He scratched his cheek, nodding slowly. “She wouldn’t feel weird seeing you with me?” he asked.

Oh.

Right.

If it was only you and Jeon Jungkook going to the movies, then, of course, people would think certain things.

You answered him honestly.

“I don’t know.”

You didn’t need to give answers, but Jungkook was your ex’s next-door neighbor and you had made friends with the guy before she did. Would be odd, considering she had proximity on her side, but, as it turns out, she was the lesbian and you were the pansexual. She had other priorities than the man living next door. He was not that interesting to her.

You shrugged. “I don’t know how she would feel, but what’s done is done and life goes on.”

Jungkook blinked at you.

You puffed out your left cheek and then exhaled heavily. “As you can expect from my reaction, it was me who broke up with her.” You clicked your tongue. “It wasn’t her. It was me. I have issues when women try to take care of me, even if they only have good intentions.” You reached up and pushed your parka hood back, letting the cold wind pierce your skin again, eager to feel something else. “Doesn’t really happen to me when it’s men, but women? Hah... I tried to tell myself that that wasn’t it, but facts are facts. In the end, I didn’t like her anymore and it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.”

Sounded awful coming out of your mouth.

Truth was ugly.

“I thought I would feel like shit not being with her during Christmas, but actually I feel worse because I’m actually glad I’m out.”

You glanced at Jungkook, whose was staring at you with those big brown eyes. For his part, he simply accepted when you introduced his neighbor as your girlfriend back then. Didn’t pry much. It had come up in conversation about representation in movies, and you both clarified your sexualities. Jungkook’s reaction was, oh, cool. But, of course, you hadn’t specified about the differences of various romantic relationships for you personally, until now.

You winced. “Sorry. Kinda dumped all that on you.”

He shook his head quickly, his long black hair flying about like floppy puppy ears. “No, no. It’s okay. Have you talked to anyone about the breakup?” He held up his free hand, pulling it back a little. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. It’s just… I mean, I knew you two a little bit, so… I can listen, if you wanna say stuff.”

You opened your mouth, ready to say, yeah, I’ve talked about it, but then you realized, no, you haven’t talked to anyone about the breakup. You didn’t really have friends outside of the ones related to your previous relationship, and, well, he was standing right here. You certainly weren’t going to tell your parents about dating, least of all dating outside of the heteronormative. They already didn’t like you for various reasons and being anything but heterosexual was probably going to lead to full-on pitchforks and chasing. Not your idea of a fun Christmas, you had to admit.

Mostly because you were the one that had to do the outrunning.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his head, screwing up his face. “Uh, well, a friend much smarter than me told me once that good and bad is relative to who you’re talking to and that most of the time no one is good or bad because there are too many ways to judge.” As he spoke, his eyebrows became more knitted together in increasing confusion of unsure recollection. “Um. Something like that.”

You half-smiled. “Hm, ever considered becoming a therapist?”

Jungkook frowned, looking displeased. “Sounds complicated.”

You laughed. “Don’t worry. You would totally suck at it.”

He harrumphed. “Anyway,” he concluded gruffly, chopping the air, his Busan accent coming out with the flourishment. “I’m saying you don’t have to be sad or feel anything in particular.”

You nodded.

Awkward silence.

Jungkook suddenly perked up and pointed to his bike behind him. “Oh! Did I tell you? I got my motorcycle license over a month ago.”

No, he didn’t tell you, because at the point you had already broken up with your now-ex and stopped coming to this apartment complex. But you glossed over that detail and shook you head, cocking your chin to the metal monster. “Yours?”

He grinned, bouncing like the Energizer bunny. “Yup! Mine! I bought it as soon as I got my license. I always wanted one. Want a ride? I have an extra helmet upstairs.” He pointed up excitedly. “It’ll only take me a second to grab it.”

He knew you didn’t drive here and usually walked here from the train station because it was easier. You looked at the silver and black motorcycle and then back at him, seeing the bubbling eagerness and childlike joy in those sparkly big peepers. What the hell.

“Sure.”

He grinned.

You always liked Jungkook because he had such an expressive face.

He hurried past you and reached out to nudge your arm towards to the stairs. You stood steadfast, your head following his face as you saw his changing expression.

Time slowed.

So did Jungkook, stopping, standing beside you, his motorcycle helmet and arm in between your bodies.

You looked up at him.

Eyes connected.

Your hands lifted and you took his motorcycle helmet from him, ticking your head upstairs.

“I shouldn’t go back up there,” you softly said.

For a moment, he didn’t understand. You knew what he intended, you to follow him up to help carry the extra helmet so he had a hand free to lock the door again. But he hadn’t quite thought about why you were here in the first place, days away from Christmas, after months of not seeing you, and now the comprehension was creeping into his eyes, the wheels of his brain moving in real time right in front of you. You nodded slowly as his lips formed a small ‘o’ accompanied by quick, sharp nods as he bounded up the stone steps two at a time.

“I’ll be fast!”

“Don’t break a leg,” you scolded, rolling your eyes as he completely ignored you, but he held onto the railing, so at least he wouldn’t tumble down and squash you if he tripped.

That left you standing there in relative silence, holding Jeon Jungkook’s helmet and staring at his fairly new motorcycle, only a couple floors underneath your ex-girlfriend who you recently gave back all her things that she had left in your home, the only trace of her now being your memories that would fade in time.

You felt a bit weird, not minding too much about it.

Also felt a bit weird realizing in a few minutes you would be holding onto her next-door neighbor’s waist, your chest to his broad back.

I’m an asshole.

You sighed, remembering the apprehension you had felt embarking on this relationship. Maybe you should have listened to it, but, then again, hard to say. No one wants to believe they have issues. Also, she was quite cute and convincing at the time. Unlike in past relationships, she was already secure and didn’t make you feel ashamed about not being strictly lesbian or heterosexual. It made you think that this was right, this was how it should be, and then it started getting a little too serious.

You kept thinking, I’ll get over it.

You did not get over it.

Then you realized what you really meant was, I must get over it to prove that my shitty upbringing didn’t affect me but all I’m doing is pretending that I’m over it when I’m not.

Yeah, well.

You ended up breaking up with a nice, pretty girl that you weren’t really in love with. She had just made you feel secure because she actually accepted your sexuality, which was awesome but not enough.

So, why did you feel like a complete and total jerk, like you wasted her time, as if you weren’t worthy of it?

Don’t know.

You stared at the motorcycle in front of you.

He must feel free when riding it.

“I got the helmet!”

You didn’t even turn around when you heard Jungkook’s announcement. You were too busy transitioning out of your reflections. “Don’t you know motorcycle accidents are much more likely than car accidents?”

Jungkook popped into view, holding out the other helmet in his hands. You exchanged the one you were carrying with his, and he shrugged. “Everybody dies.”

“Morbid.”

“At least I wouldn’t die knowing I never got to ride a motorbike like I wanted to when I was a kid,” he pointed out, revealing a bit of his inked skin under his leather sleeve. “Same reason I got tattoos.”

“Bet your mom loves that.”

“My mom just has to love my personality,” he laughed. “And I got defiance from her, so she’s doomed.”

You shook you head with a smile. Jungkook showed you how to put the helmet on.

“Just stay safe.”

“Don’t you mean drive safe?”

“It’s not just you on the road, dude.”

Suddenly, his hands stopped moving after you put it on. Now you were staring at Jungkook through the opening, about to close the visor, but then those brown orbs found yours. There was a strange intangible ripple between you and him. He tilted his head.

“Why are you talking as if you’re not here about to get on the bike with me?”

Everybody dies.

You pointed to the helmet. It felt heavy and odd. You were unaccustomed to the tightness. It smelled clean though. “I am. Why else would I put this thing on?”

Maybe I’m already dead because I don’t feel bad about what I did.

You wondered if you should feel bad, even though you did the right thing, even though you knew there were no real villains and heroes in this situation, even though you knew you both were only people that chose how to live their lives. How were you supposed to know if you were dragging things on or running away? The only thing you knew was that she deserved someone who really loved her as much as she loved you. It wasn’t her fault you didn’t. You just had to be honest about it.

Right?

Jungkook nodded and stuck on his helmet, fitting it snugly and climbed onto the motorcycle, unlocking it as signaling you to get on behind him.

“Hold onto me here. Set your feet there. Yeah.”

He was warm and solid and present.

He even smelled nice.

You didn’t think about it too much. What was there to think about? Life was complicated. You could spend countless hours analyzing why you made certain decisions, if they were wrong or right and in which eyes that mattered, and then all those thoughts blew away when the mechanical monster underneath you roared to life, loud and vicious and pure power wielded with skillful hands, and you held on tighter to Jungkook, startled by the sound, yet not scared for some reason.

Just fascinated as Jungkook pulled out of his parking spot and zoomed out of the garage, onto the road.

It was fuckin’ cold.

Layers of green-and-black plaid between Jungkook’s back and your sweater, shielding your racing heart, wind and speed and thrill shooting throughout your veins, the winter night flashing past, blurring streetlamps and stoplights, forgetting the cold, your hands tucked inside Jungkook’s jacket, fingers fanning over his waist and ribcage, feeling his muscles under the tacky sweater.

You closed your eyes.

At least I wouldn’t die knowing I never got to ride a motorbike like I wanted to when I was a kid.

You used to think about riding a motorcycle when you were in middle school, although you had been looking at those smaller, zippy Japanese models, not a Harley-Davidson. You always assumed only loud obnoxious Americans rode that kind of stuff.

What?

Movies didn’t help.

Unfair stereotypes aside, it had been only a passing thought for you. One among many rebellious teenage desires. Cringe. That was hard to admit. But apparently for Jungkook it was a dream that he had turned into a reality and, while someone could view it in whatever negative light they wished, you saw it as walking the walk. You could respect that.

You leaned against him.

Felt the cold but there was something hot under layers of green-and-black plaid.

This is what joyride means, huh?

You were slowing down. Opened your eyes and saw Jungkook turning, seeing a parking lot and, across that, a field of white covered in a walkway of colorful lights. Oh. That was right. The park over here had put up this light display called Festival of Lights, where local artists had created wire sculptures covered in Christmas string lights which were displayed along a walkable path.

You went her last year, holding her hand.

You got off and took off your helmet, entranced by the bright twinkling displays, barely making out a gingerbread man doing a handstand.

“Wanna walk?”

You glanced at Jungkook. “What about this? Should I carry it?”

He laughed, waving to the sudden open top-box behind the seat. “Put it in here.”

You handed the helmet to him and watched in fascination. “Oh. I didn’t know there was a space to put stuff.”

He grinned. “Come on, let’s go.”

You following his bouncing jog with a loose stride, closing your fingers into your palm and remembering the feeling of his solid body in your hands only moments before. Furrowed your brows and shook your head, approaching the entrance, seeing a family several meters ahead, tired parents with a couple of loud kids pointing excitedly at a lit-up snowman holding six candy canes like Wolverine claws.

“Have you been here this year yet?”

“Ah, no,” you absentmindedly replied, seeing Santa and his reindeer. Classic, and well-done. “Haven’t had the time.”

“There’s one at the end I think you’ll like,” Jungkook was saying excitedly. “But I think the food vendors went home already. There was a hotteok truck and another one that sold roasted sweet potatoes, mmm, but maybe you can come back some other time.”

“Uh huh.”

You knocked into Jungkook’s back and bounced, vigorously shaking your head. “Ow.”

“Sorry, there’s ice. Careful.”

“Oh.”

You realized Jungkook was looking at you and you let go of his arm, not even realizing you had grabbed it out of instinct so you didn’t trip. A weird moment of muteness. You looked past him to see three chipmunks flashing in red, blue, and green scarves.

You looked up at Jungkook, who had followed your eye line to the three cuties.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you ask your neighbor why I wasn’t coming over anymore?”

Those brown eyes looked away from the twinkling artificial stars to your eyes. There was a little bit a guilt. They shifted away and came back and you realized Jungkook didn’t know how to lie but he also wasn’t sure if he was about to be out of line either.

“I… I heard her crying. A lot. And it’s none of my business,” he mumbled, frowning. “My mom told me not to be nosy,” he added under his breath.

You almost snorted. “You told your mom that you were worried about the lesbian couple next door?”

Jungkook squinted at you, annoyed. “No, I told my mom that I was worried that my friend might have broken up, so I asked her if I should do anything. Something nice?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed weird especially when Black Panther: Wakanda Forever came out, and I was going to ask if you, I mean, you both were going to the midnight release but…”

The kids were yelling in the distance and you didn’t even hear them.

You were just staring at Jungkook and noticing that his ears were turning bright red.

All the adrenaline from the speed and, now, everything slammed on the brakes.

“I didn’t cry.”

He blinked slowly. “What?”

You breathed out, looking around you, at snow and lights and white, and then at Jungkook, wearing all black and that candy-cane sweater, at yourself and your dark monochrome outfit, and then you admitted it again. “I didn’t cry, and I feel kinda shitty for it.”

“Oh.”

You stepped past Jungkook and walked down the carved-out path, following footprints and hard work. He followed and you acknowledged him, looking from one festive decoration to another, admiring the creations and spinning through the inner workings of your mind. “I felt frustrated. I know sexual attraction and romantic relationships are two different things, but I wanted to believe they weren’t. I wanted to believe that enough time had passed and I was okay, but I wasn’t okay and maybe I’ll never be okay, and I don’t know how to feel about that.”

You glanced up.

Jungkook looked confused and thoughtful at the same time. “I think you said before you don’t talk to your parents?”

“Yeah. They’re assholes.”

“Oh.”

That wasn’t very descriptive so you gave a brief explanation. “They looked at me like a product they made. A child was an object that they could program to do things they weren’t able to do, like make lots of money, marry rich, and in general sacrifice all my autotomy for their every beck and call.” You shrugged. “A dog would have more grace than their child.”

“Ouch.”

“Also, they would not understand that I’m pansexual. I think I’d be shot on the spot.”

“Don’t talk to them,” he puffed heatedly.

“Mmm,” you hummed in agreement. “And, yeah, I’m sure that kind of upbringing affected my romantic relationships.” And lots of other things, but that wasn’t the point right now.

“Everybody goes through stuff like that.”

You looked at him.

Jungkook shrugged. “My last girlfriend said all I care about is myself and there’s a reason why all my friends are older than me and called me irresponsible, selfish, and childish.”

“Are you?”

He frowned. “I don’t think so? I do the dishes and always fold my laundry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Only fold?”

“Okay, sometimes I leave it on the table for a little while,” he grumbled.

You chuckled. “How long ago was this?”

“Um, couple years ago? Maybe five?”

“You were barely an adult,” you commented, seeing a face-down figure with white hair in a bun and something that looked suspiciously like deer tracks on the back of that red coat. Uh. You decided not to comment and move on. “Still learning.”

“Learning to be a dick, she’d probably say now. She would tell me not to get a bike for sure.”

“Thought the whole point she was dating you was because you had a dick.”

Jungkook laughed, loud and vibrant, the lights making his cheeks glow. “Well, she’s married now so I guess she found a better one.”

“Or settled.”

“Damn, you would think you were the one who dated her,” he snickered. You could tell he was enjoying this though, those brown orbs sparkling a little too bright. There was a little bit of a jealous streak in him, you could sense. “I think I was dating the wrong kind of girl though. I think I have to date someone who shares my interests more. I like being with the person I like all the time. I don’t want them to be sick of me.”

“Mmm. I can see that. Pretty childish of you.”

“Hey!”

You laughed, nudging his side. “As long as you know you are the problem.”

He narrowed his eyes.

You grinned. “I didn’t say you weren’t a fun problem to have.”

Jungkook leaned closer, squinting harder.

You grinned wider.

Then you realized he was so close and he realized he was so close, both of you backing up at the same time. A little too fast, simultaneously darting your hands out and grabbing each other’s forearms, you grasping his right with your left hand and his right hand on your left sleeve, squeezing hard, immediately regaining balance.

You let go.

He let go.

Speed under a green-black plaid scarf, something hot and moving fast under all those layers.

“Sorry.”

“Ah, no, my fault. Sorry.”

You jerked your head towards the light displays and started walking again, trying to move past this sudden weirdness. You pointed out the various ones you liked. Yellow pill-shaped Minions decorating a Christmas tree. A curtain of lights programmed to look like falling snowflakes. Penguins sliding down a light-up hill. Slowing down. Breathing. You glanced at Jungkook.

He looked somewhat ashamed.

“Hey.”

He tilted his head, inquiring with his big eyes and pink nose. “Hm?”

“I’m glad you took me here. I don’t think I’ve done anything festive this year.”

“O… Oh.” He looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought it might be cool. Cheer you up a bit.”

“Yeah. It’s funny. A lot of people think I don’t like this season.”

You saw Jungkook rub his nose, realizing it was cold. “Huh? Why?” he asked nasally.

You glanced down at your dark color palette. “Well, you know me, I like Halloween most, but I actually enjoy Christmas quite a lot. Not because I have any particularly nice memories around it,” you mused. “Ah, I mean when I was a kid. But, I don’t know, maybe that made me appreciate the spirit of the holiday time more than all the capitalistic stuff surrounding it, since I didn’t participate much in that.”

Jungkook blinked, puzzled. “You didn’t get gifts?”

You thought about it. “Hmm, not until I was an adult and only when I was dating someone who gave gifts.”

He pursed his lips and then reached out, taking your elbow and pulling your along, to the corner.

“Come on. This can be your gift.”

You stumbled behind him, craning your head in confusion. “Huh?”

“Did you watch Wakanda Forever?”

“Of course, I did. You know Black Panther is my favorite.”

“Then, look.”

Your eyes widened as the bright display of Black Panther, black lights complete with the purple highlights and signature action pose loomed among the other creations, slightly out of place because it wasn’t holiday-themed or even remotely Korean, but apparently none of that mattered and it didn’t matter to you as you admired the craftsmanship of the wire structure underneath, obvious it was specifically Chadwick Boseman’s T’Challa from the violet details.

“Oh, shit. That’s sick,” you breathed, staring at the display for far too long and probably burning it into your eyeballs.

“I knew you’d like it right away.”

“That’s so random that it’s here.”

“I mean it’s not Christmas, but the movie did come out a month ago, so I guess they made an exception ‘cause it was so cool.”

“I mean this feels like Christmas to me. Put a Santa hat on him and call it a day.”

Jungkook laughed. “Okay, I’ll sneak one on in the night.”

You whipped your head to him, wiggling your eyebrows. “I mean…”

“It turns off automatically at midnight to save power…” he trailed off, putting on a scheming face.

“Would you go to jail for that? Is a Santa hat vandalism?”

“I didn’t commit a crime if I don’t get caught,” he countered.

You gave him a look. “Sounds like someone belongs on the naughty list.”

Jungkook scrunched up his face.

“Naughty or nice depends on who’s asking.”

He stuck his little pink tongue out.

You poked the tongue tip sticking out of his lips.

Instant wet warmth on your index finger. Jungkook jumped, startled at your quick action and even you snapped back, surprised at yourself. Why had you done that? A wave of fluster, and you froze, hand hovering in the air, and Jungkook rapidly blinking, cheeks turning bright red. Silence. Couldn’t even say sorry, too stunned at your action to try to double back to apologies. Big brown eyes framed with windswept black locks, something unsaid hanging between you and Jeon Jungkook.

A casual friendship.

Kept at a fixed distance for… reasons.

Well, it had been.

Nobody was stupid, but time and place meant something.

Fast lane, not feeling the cold, racing pulse, lowering your hand, and you could feel it. You knew it was there, but time and place and all those other things.

“Sorry,” you finally said.

Jungkook’s eyes started darting in all directions. “It… It’s okay.”

“It’s kind of not. No one should be touching other people’s tongues without permission,” you pointed out.

He wasn’t really looking at you. “It’s okay… I forgive you.”

“Stop pretending I’m not a bundle of walking problems.”

Now those brown orbs finally scooting back to you.

There was no getting around that.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not a fun problem to have,” Jungkook mumbled softly.

Yeah, especially not after this irresponsible, selfish, childish guy said something like that.

There was a lot of shit you could say, but none of it seemed right. They sounded like excuses, or lame roundabouts, or too much too fast, like getting a whole sleeve of heavily-inked tattoos in a little under two years and a bigass motorbike after passing your motorcycle license exam. They sounded like feebleness in what was pretty clear, and you didn’t believe in saying something that wasn’t the truth.

“Um...”

Jungkook continued staring at you like a lost reindeer even though his nose was quite red.

You decided it was best to give a response. “Yeah?”

“You… You’re not doing anything on Christmas?” he asked.

“Ah, no. Nope, I just get a day off work.”

An extended silence.

You verbally approached very carefully. “You wanna… uh… hang out at my place?”

“Oh…” Man, this conversation sure was something. “I can bring some food and stuff. I can cook.”

“Me too.”

“You… like pork belly, right?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite.”

Good fuckin’ gracious.

You couldn’t stand it anymore and exasperatedly put your head in your hand. “Just…” You saw Jungkook peering at you, looking worried. You put your hand down, resolving yourself quite quickly. “Okay. Give me your number. I’ll text you the address.” You didn’t think about it too much. Just yanked your phone out of your inner pocket and furiously typed down the numbers that came out of Jungkook’s mouth, your frozen fingers needing to press more than once, but you eventually got there.

After you pressed send, you immediately jerked your head up and looked at those big brown eyes very seriously.

“I… We… What happens, happens,” you finally said.

Jungkook nodded determinedly. “Yeah.”

It was pretty obvious what was going to happen but, then again, there were children around.

Last Christmas you received a gift with a note that said I love you.

This year, you would receive…?

“You think Die Hard is a Christmas film?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Sure?”

The actual movie didn’t really matter. Mostly because you fell asleep on top of him and woke up to a black television screen, wrapped in a fuzzy red velvet blanket, and Jeon Jungkook staring at you in the darkness. You blinked slowly. Could barely make out his face in the faint light of the open window, seeing the shape of his parted lips, the shine of his large eyes, the waves of black hair that cradled his cheeks.

You had animated conversation over dinner, funny stories of Jungkook’s friends and viral videos you had both seen on the internet, so natural it was almost frightening, complete with weird tense moments of silence that you or he pushed along, resolute, knowing how you got here, and yet.

Chills all over despite the warmth under the blanket.

He was not wearing a tacky sweater now. Just a simple black and white plaid flannel and a white t-shirt under, paired with loose black pants. Oversized and cozy to go with your fleece red-and-black checkered long pajamas. He smelled the same as he did the other day. He didn’t bring anything with him but a large glass Tupperware of food and his motorcycle helmet, saying he forgot to leave it by his bike. His heavy black coat was hanging in the hall closet by the front door.

You stared at Jungkook, saying nothing.

Stayed close.

He leaned in.

You closed the distance.

You were pretty sure you had a soul of ice.

Then again, Jungkook had said earlier in the night that he had been told in his fortune that he had too much fire in him, so maybe it canceled out or something.

You wanted to say you had an entire, deep discussion of, is this a good idea, or perhaps even, what is courteous and respectful but also fulfills the personal desires of the very obvious between us, but there was only heavy making out and lip-locking and breathless gasps and your hands around his waist again, warm and solid and present, and you shuddered, breathing him in, pulling him close, pressing your body to his.

Jungkook didn’t waste time.

His hands were on your hips, his wispy moan trailing over your lips.

Oh no. You tried to resist the addictive sensation that demanded to be chased, your lower body rolling into his, feeling was what very real and very apparent, his shaking breath tickling your lower lip and chin, whine shimmering in his throat. He liked it. Pulled you closer, increasing the pressure, your clothed pussy practically riding his clothed dick.

You caught his moaning mouth and felt the electricity of his arousal enter your lungs, your hands tangling into his hair, pulling his head back, first lightly and then when he didn’t relent, harder, tearing a moan from his throat, loud and vicious and pure power of his vocal cords vibrating under your kisses, nipping at his neck and leaving small possessive marks that he encouraged with gasping, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, falling apart in your skillful hands, tracing the crown of his head, his ears, his jaw.

You ran your tongue over his collarbone and then softly trailed back with kisses.

“O-Oh, fuuuuck me…”

That was the idea, yeah.

He was unbuttoning your pajama shirt.

“Wha… Why are you wearing a bra?”

You guessed that was not supposed to sound whiny but then again Jungkook was pouting in frustration.

“I generally wear bras. You know, to hold my tits.”

He puffed his cheeks. “Don’t ladies usually not wear bras at home?”

“I imagine the situation might change if there was a hot man involved.”

An involuntarily shiver travelled all over Jungkook and the only reason you could feel it was because you were basically humping his dick.

“Also, we can’t talk much if you are distracted by my nipples,” you added.

You felt an agile hand creeping around to the back clasp. “What if I want to be distracted by your nipples…?” he trailed off experimentally, giving you a curious, mischievous look.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Sounds like someone belongs on the naughty list.”

He tilted his head, sending dark strands over one eye and his cheek.

“Who’s asking?” he purred, his silvery voice low and deep.

Well, shit.

The man knew how to be sexy.

You raked your fingers through his thick black hair, feeling him tremble under you.

“Leader of the naughty list herself,” you breathed back, leaning in to kiss him again.

While it was true that Jungkook had not come with some last-minute wrapped trinket, he had brought a hard dick and abundant horniness, and that was a pretty good gift in your book. You showed him your boobs and those nipples he was so keen about – well, technically, he showed himself and audibly gasped when your bra tumbled off. You weren’t sure if he was acting or not, but that question was answered too, because he lifted you by the waist and ran his tongue over your cleavage and then started making out with your chest.

“Oh…!”

Your turn to be surprised and you clutched his head, gasping, pushing him to suck, and he didn’t need any more signs, circling his tongue around the hard nab and then his eyelids fluttered, moaning deep in his chest. Hot shivers at the feeling of his warm mouth and gentle insistence, your body pressing into him, matching his rhythm and sound, holding his free hand to your neglected breast while his other hand splayed over your lower back, strong and secure. Your thighs squeezed his waist, feeling his desire melt into yours.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know.

You just didn’t act on it and neither did Jungkook, other than the occasional puppy eyes because he was terrible at lying. He had made a conscious effort to stay securely in the friendzone out of respect. You had appreciated that, really. But then there was that chance meeting, and, even then, you knew he took you to the Festival of Lights just to cheer you up, not to put you in any complex or awkward situation, but, again, he was bad at lying and there was no getting around this very intense attraction between you and Jeon Jungkook.

Hence the current kissing down your stomach and you leaning back, slow cascading moan falling from your lips as you felt his dance around your bellybutton and he pulled down the waistband of your pajama pants, following your hip line.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy…”

Your fingertips grazing the lines of his legs, nails applying dainty pressure that made him quiver under you, his breath hitching as you placed your hands on his thighs and pressed your fingers inward, lifting yourself back up. Leaning down to kiss him again, tasting traces of you on his lips. Slowly peelings his clothes off, tangling him in them just to see his eyebrows knit in frustration, so cute, but you didn’t say, not yet, and then your clothes were in a rumpled pile on the living room floor. You in your panties and him in his boxer briefs, and you straddled his waist, kissing him repeatedly, rubbing your chest into his, feeling him under you.

Hot.

Shivering.

Overwhelmed with sensation, rolling his hips and hard cock into your covered heat.

He liked the feeling of your fingernails running down his chest. You did it once, just to test, and he reached for your hands, pulling them back up, more, and you watched his body writhe and fall apart under your touch, his head tipping back and lifting up his torso to add more pressure, moan hiking when you scratched down his sides and kissed his chest, licking his nipples, traveling to his back, earning a stronger reaction and his fingers sinking into your ass, his erection throbbing in between your thighs that squeezed his tense hips.

“Fuck, oh, fuck…”

You could feel the dampness occurring, both from you and him.

“J… Jungkook…”

You couldn’t stop kissing him, continuously telling yourself last one, but that was ages ago, lips locked and drunk on foreplay, on his body and his sound, vibrant and carnal, a mix of cute and sexy that was practically illegal. Couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop whispering to him how nice he felt, how nice he tasted, careless, absorbed in the strength of his lust.

“C-Can I fuck you…? I brought condoms in my coat, j-just in case…”

“Naughty boy,” you scolded and didn’t mean it, and it was dangerous, so dangerous the way Jungkook desperately moaned as you placed your hand over his damp, pulsing hardness and rubbed him through his underwear, too dangerous with the way he looked at you and gasped, you wanna sit in this naughty boy’s lap?

Thankfully, that was the extent of that.

Also, you didn’t bother going all the way to the hall closet when you had plenty of condoms in your bedroom.

And, yeah, you sat in his lap.

”Oooh, wow, y-you feel soooo fucking good…“

Could have been either of you or both of you saying it. You wouldn’t remember if you thought about it later, because you were too busy rocking your hips and trying to find the correct rhythm again. It was easier than you thought, maybe because of Jungkook’s roaming hands on your thighs, hips, breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure across your torso that matched the satisfying fullness deep inside, and, right there, finding the correct depth and forcefulness, chasing it immediately, building the steady pace with the condom wrapper tumbling down your sheets and hitting your knee.

You snatched it and chucked the foil wrapper over the side of your bed.

“Oh!”

“Forget about it, fuck me, Jungkook, fuck me.”

He angled his hips up and you rode him, relentless pleasure and waves of need satisfied by thrusting, clenching around his thick, hard cock, losing yourself in the shocking bliss.

You closed your eyes.

Felt the heat, so intense it sent chills up and down your spine. Couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, hands on his chest, tense and vibrating under harsh smacks and craving more, your name in Jungkook’s breathless voice addicting. His sound, intoxicating. His body, telling, unable to lie and you could be nothing but be honest, so good, fuck, feels so fucking good, speeding in the fast lane and soaring from the feeling.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was someone special.

You looked down, just for a moment, catching those brown eyes, glassy and fucked-out and watching you like you were everything and more.

I need him.

The thought was so intense and raw that you felt something inside you snap, your breath cutting off, torrential crash and orgasm seizing you by the throat, throwing your head back, your hair sweeping your shoulders, and you came around him, jerking your hips to bury him deeper, oh, fuck, yeees, suspended in the blissful, powerful rush, feeling your liquid honey leak out and down, covering him with it, the scent of sex rising between your bodies.

Jungkook lifted his hips and your body by doing so, his hands strongly grasping your waist, moaning with you, thrusting hard and fast, fucking your through your orgasm and you immediately tumbled into another peak, back-to-back intensity, feverish pitch of your joined voices as he came too, rock-hard and twitching inside your pulsating tightness, holding both of you up by a miracle.

Or sheer lust.

Nice or naughty, right?

For a moment, mute, stunned silence at the shared feeling between you and him.

Sure, it was pretty damn obvious you were going to fuck.

You just didn’t expect it to feel this good and this right.

Down, down, down. Slow, serene, subliminal, the way he sank down and both your gazes left the ceiling, sinking into your sheets, your eyes and his eyes connecting, quiet but an entire conversation humming between your bodies.

“J… Jungkook.”

He was panting hard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, his long black hair a mess your pillows. “Y… Yeah?”

“It’s… It’s a bit late…”

Well, actually, you had no idea what time it was.

“Y-Yeah, it kinda is…” he breathed, caressing your hips with his fingertips, relentless energy under you, eyes so big and brown that you could drown in that comforting darkness.

“Can you just…”

A pause, racing hearts beating together.

“Stay?” you asked, tentative and unsure.

Jungkook squeezed your thigh, reassurance in his touch.

“I wanna stay,” he stated, nodding determinedly.

So, he stayed, the start of many Christmases to come.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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ladyfurbton · 2 months

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Happy Disability Pride Month to all my Disabled followers.

Image Description:

Kasumi is a 1999 baby furby with a large yellow tuft of hair on her head. Her fur is light pink except for a white square on her belly. Her tail is a big tuft of yellow hair on her lower back. Her feet are white and she has 3 toes on each foot. Her face plate and eyelids lids are both white and her beak is an orangish yellow colour. Her eyes are light blue. She has pink ears. Kasumi is wearing a pikachu onesie. The onsie has yellow ears with black tips at the end of them. There are large black eyes on the onesie. The onesie is mostly yellow and has a small black dot for a nose and a small smiling black mouth. There is a hole that reveals Kasumis face. On each side of the hole there are large red circles that resemble cheeks. At the back of the onesie there is a large yellow tail that is shaped like a lightning bolt. There are two brown stripes on the back of the onesie. Kasumi is also wearing a dark green lanyard with sunflowers on it. The lanyard has a white tag on it with a rainbow infinity symbol. Spud is a grey furby buddy with brown eyes. He has light orange coloured feet and his belly is a lighter shade of grey. The inside of his ears are pink. Spud is sitting in a wheelchair with a blue frame. The wheel chair has a black seat and black tires. Kasumi is standing on a small green platform with pink and white flowers infront of her. Spud is sitting on a brown ramp in his wheelchair. There is a caption to this photo that says "Happy Disability Pride Month." End Description.

#furby #allfurby #furby fandom #safe furby #safefurby #furblr #furby community #furby buddy #1999 baby furby #sunflower lanyard #hidden disability #disability #disability pride month #disabled #wheelchair

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genderbinaryisforlosers · 2 years

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[basic ID in alt, detailed ID below]

i love them more than words can say. already i wish i could listen to the children's adventure for the first time all over again.

[ID: 1. A height chart lineup showing the main characters of The Wizard, the Witch, and the Wild One side-by-side in the main campaign and the Children's Adventure. In order it is Eursulon, Suvi, Ame & Cool Dog, and Grandmother Wren & Taro.

Eursulon is a huge bear-like creature standing bipedal on digitigrade legs. As an adult (left) he stands to a height of 220cm. His fur around his ears and forehead resembles the plumage of a horned owl. He has an ursine nose and large tusks, and big, hazel eyes. He has white freckles on his face. He is wearing a long green cloak and beige and brown traveller's garb, and a golden pauldron is partially hidden by his cloak on his shoulder. It has a small dent in it but is well polished. In his right hand (viewer's left) he holds a round wooden shield, and in his left hand he holds an unsheathed sword, Wavebreaker, with pale blue silk lining wrapped around the hilt. He has a neutral expression.

As a child, he was still large at about 145cm tall, but had a rounder face, smaller fangs, and shorter feet. He is unclothed except for his golden pauldron, undented, and instead of a sword he is clutching a broom handle with both paws. He is smiling.

Suvi is a Black human girl who stands at around 183cm as an adult. She has a turquoise afro which is pulled back neatly into a bun and decorated with fine gold chains as well as a round golden censer hanging from the back. She is dressed in a smart Imperial blue uniform with gold and silver trim, and wields in her right hand a crystal staff decorated with the Imperial sigil and wings made of floating shards. In her left hand she holds a book bound in dark blue leather. Instead of wearing glasses, her brown eyes are magically treated, which causes a teal sheen to be visible over her pupils. She is smiling confidently.

As a child, she was about 120cm tall and her hair was still dark brown and not tied back. She has yellow asteria flowers in her hair as well as a pencil and a cool leaf, and wore huge round glasses. She wears a red button-up dress with pockets, stripey white tights, and smart indigo shoes. She clutches a brown canvas-bound book to her chest and looks wide-eyed.

Ame is an East Asian girl who stands at around 150cm as an adult. She has long, dark straight hair and dark brown eyes. She has her right hand on her hip while her left hand adjusts her giant red witch's hat. The hat has a white underside and there is a gold censer attached to the pointed tip. She is wearing a white wrap top patterned with pink petals, and the long flowy sleeves have been buttoned back. She has two bracelets around her left wrist, one is woven lilac and green, and the other is small pink flowers chained together. She has red skirt that resembles a toadstool, with white spots on the cap and pink ruffles under the rim. She also has a white half-apron with several pockets tied to her waist by dark pink cord, which also holds a light brown pouch. She has one skinned knee showing above her flowery pink-and-white socks, and red stompy boots. She is smiling out of the corner of her mouth. Wrapping around her legs is Cool Dog, her fox familiar, eyeing the viewer suspiciously.

As a child, she was extremely small at 100cm. She has a bowl cut and dimples. She wears an oversized yellow shirt with white stripes, the sleeves pushed up past her elbows, and orange dungarees. She has muddy red welly boots, and is wearing the lilac and green bracelet. She is grinning broadly with her eyes shut and holding her fists up near her chest.

Grandmother Wren is an old witch standing at about 155cm with light brown skin and frizzy grey-and-white-streaked hair and brown eyes. She is wearing a dark purple witch's hat with a golden buckle and a curling tip, a knitted lilac shawl around her shoulders, and a cable-knit yellow sweater. She is wearing a stripy half-apron over a floor-length patchwork skirt, and is leaning on a gnarled wooden cane with both hands. She is smiling ruefully. Taro, her rooster familiar, is standing on the brim of her hat.

2. A cropped version of the same drawing, this time including Eursulon's glamoured forms. His glamoured form is a Black human, resembling Suvi as if he were her brother, although his eyes remain hazel and his hair is ginger instead of dark brown. He has dark brown freckles on his face and a gap in his front teeth, although the gap can only be seen in his childhood glamour as he is smiling. As an adult, the glamour is dressed identically to the unglamoured form although he's shorter by about 25cm, and his hair is braided back neatly into a bun. He also has some facial hair on his sideburns. As a child, his hair is shorter and styled into mini locs, and he is wearing a white shirt and green shorts, though still barefoot. He is about 15cm shorter than his unglamoured form.

3. A cropped version of the remaining lineup, showing Suvi, Ame & Cool Dog, and Grandmother Wren & Taro. /end ID]

#worlds beyond number #the wizard the witch and the wild one #twtwatwo #wbn art #suvirin kedberiket #ame the witch #eursulon toma #grandmother wren #cool dog #taro the rooster #my art #things i made #image described

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kylobith · 5 months

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Little Town Tails

Chapter 6: Something Fishy

Summary: A curious visitor comes to Emerald Grove.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 4,831

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

‘Ah, Halsin, there you are!’

‘Good morning, Jaheira,’ he greets the florist back with a bright grin. He wipes his muddy shoes on the rubber mat outside until they are presentable enough to go in. Behind him, Scratch sits at the door, unleashed, waiting for Halsin to be done with his visit before heading home.

Jaheira grins at the white dog and whistles, calling him inside. The dog eyes his owner hesitantly, but when the latter gives him an approving nod, Scratch trots up behind the counter to be petted by his host. She grabs the banana she was snacking on and takes off a piece she offers him.

Halsin approaches the counter and smiles at the sight, always happy to see that his dog is accepted somewhere. While petting Scratch behind the ears, Jaheira looks at his visitor and smirks.

‘Walked around the forest this morning again?’

‘Indeed. The weather was perfect, but last night’s rain made the ground a bit soft, as you could tell from my boots.’

‘It’s always like that. At least they say that this spring will bring more sunny days than usual,’ she adds, chuckling as the dog lies down at her feet. ‘Anyway, did you happen to see Minsc at all? I’ve been trying to call him for two days because he ordered a fresh bouquet, but now the flowers are waning.’

He leans on his elbows and fidgets with one of her business cards on the counter.

‘I did, he was patrolling the area by the other bridge. Had I known, I would have reminded him.’

‘Oh, don’t bother. It’s always like that with him. He tends to forget what he orders on a whim. He’s always ready to support my shop since I opened but he never picks up his orders. He did, once, but that was a flower for Boo’s birthday and he ordered flax seeds. That was it.’

They share a laugh. Minsc certainly is quite the character, anyone meeting him can tell. Quite eccentric compared to the rest of Heawick, but he adds to the charm of the community. Whenever somebody needs help, whether when the flower shop was merely an idea sprouting into Jaheira’s mind or with Beaky’s incident with the bear trap, he never hesitates to lend a hand, even though it tends to distract him from his daily tasks and chores. Yet, there is no better forest warden.

Jaheira flips through the pages of her logbook and finds Halsin’s recent order.

‘So, the spider plant, was it?’ she says absent-mindedly. ‘Found a gorgeous one for you. Fluffy, in good health. Perfect for your counter.’

‘Eager to see it!’

She chuckles and heads to the back to fetch the plant. She returns with precisely what she promised him, setting it down on her counter for him to examine. He touches the long leaves between his fingers, sensing the freshness of their greenish white stripes and admiring the way that they curve elegantly around the gold-painted bucket serving as its display pot.

‘What a beauty!’ he coos, his eyes sparkling in awe. ‘How much do I owe you?’

‘Eighteen gold coins.’

‘Perfect, thank you.’

He takes out and begins to rummage through his coin purse, which takes Jaheira by surprise and causes her to smile. Shaped like the head of a teddy bear, its fur is made from light brown fleece, and the eyes and nose are embroidered in black and pink thread. He bought it at a flea market a few years ago on one of the rare holidays he allowed himself to take. Many raised an eyebrow to see a grown man buy it for himself, but even though he is far from materialistic, it is one of the few objects that he has grown particularly fond of.

He places the eighteen gold coins in the palm of Jaheira’s hand and slips two more into her tip jar.

‘Thank you,’ she says with a brief bow of her head. ‘Don’t forget to repot it from time to time, the roots tend to grow fast. And water it once to twice a week. It’s usually alright if you skip a week, as long as you don’t do it for a month straight.’

The veterinarian laughs and watches the florist remove the plant from the yellow pot. He purses his lips and tilts his head.

‘How much for that pot? It suits the plant quite well.’

Jaheira stops and eyes the bucket.

‘Oh, this? Ah, just take it. On the house.’

‘Certainly not,’ Halsin protests, unzipping his coin purse again and counting the coins in it. ‘Name your price.’

‘I insist, take it. I bought it years ago but it doesn’t suit my home, I use it for visualisation most of the time… Or as a pencil pot.’

She nudges it towards him with a wink. With a sigh and a heavy blush, Halsin slips ten gold coins into the tip jar and winks back. Once the plant is back in the bucket, he calls out for Scratch, who seeks one last pet from Jaheira, then rushes to his owner’s feet. The veterinarian and the florist exchange cheerful goodbyes, and the former exits the shop with his dog in tow and the spider plant tucked in the crook of his elbow.

Halsin whistles a tune as he crosses Heawick with his free hand buried in his pocket. He nods politely at everybody he sees with a smile and continues his walk back to Emerald Grove. The town is still awaking from its slumber and some of the shops are only just opening. Sometimes it still surprises him that Jaheira decides to open hers this early, but as she once said to him, she prefers to tackle her daily routine in the early hours, then close one or two hours before most shops so she can enjoy the town herself and have a longer evening to relax or meet up with her friends at the old pub on Westway Street.

Come to think of it, it is not such a bad idea. Shop owners and employees seldom have the opportunity to shop for themselves, unless they work half shifts or rely on partners who have the time to buy everything they need. More often, their only occasion to do so is on Saturdays, but the busy aisles deter quite a few. Since Heawick has a wider variety of establishments of all the nearing towns — not counting the city, of course —, its streets bustle with visitors on that particular day.

As he turns onto his street, he switches hands to hold the plant and fumbles through his pocket to find his keys. When he pulls them out and looks up to make sure that he does not walk too far, he notices the figure of a man peering through the windows of the practice. Dressed in black from head to toe, matching with his silky and spiky raven hair, the man does not seem to have come with a pet and does not seem particularly eager to enter.

‘Good morning,’ Halsin greets him with an eyebrow raised. ‘May I help you? Do you have or need an appointment?’

The man is startled despite the veterinarian’s soft tone. He straightens up and looks over at Halsin, seemingly analysing him in detail. The stranger rubs his index and thumb together and scowls at Scratch, who does not dare approach him at all. His demeanour already betrays the fact that he comes from the richer quarters of the city and is not used to visiting the area at all. There is a haughty air to him in the way that he carries himself, as if the word ‘peasant’ is about to slip off his tongue at any moment to describe Halsin and his shockingly unleashed pet.

‘No,’ he replies in a honeyed tone still tinted with firmness. ‘But I will come back later.’

Without uttering another word, the man spins around on his heel and walks away, leaving Halsin utterly confused with his key in hand. What a strange character.

The veterinarian shrugs it off and enters the dark practice, ushering Scratch inside before closing the door again behind him. He walks over to Karlach’s counter and finds a suitable spot for the plant, making sure to stand on both sides of the desk to ensure that the view is not obstructed for neither his assistant or a patient’s owner. But in the end, he finds that it does not quite fit there with the cards and flyers and tip jar, so he carries it over to the small coffee table in the centre of the waiting room. At least, if the anxious pets munch on the leaves, they will not be sick from it.

After a brief shower and a change into scrubs, he lets Scratch rest upstairs and heads back to the practice to follow the daily opening routine. As he takes a minute to make himself a cup of fruity tea — a bold decision considering how often he drinks his signature mint and honey infusion —, his mobile phone pings. Karlach’s name appears on the screen.

‘Morning doc, sorry but I’ll be late today, Vixen just won’t start! I’ll be there ASAP, promise promise!’

Halsin grins and immediately types back as he flicks the light switches on and shuffles towards the front door without paying much attention to his surroundings.

‘It should be quiet for the first hour, hopefully you will have found a way by then. Good luck finding an alternative! Perhaps you can ask Gale? Halsin. PS: I hope that Vixen will be alright. Too bad that she is not the type of vixen that I would treat at the practice :-).’

His wrist flicks to unlock the door while he re-reads the message to correct any typos he might have made. Eager to let some fresh air in, he opens the door wide.

‘Morning, doctor!’

Halsin nearly drops his phone when he jolts in surprise, not having expected that somebody might have already arrived. After all, he does not have any appointment planned before an hour. Outside, wiping her feet on the mat, Tav smiles at him with twinkling eyes and a light flush from noticing that her sudden greeting startled him.

His heart instantly leaps inside his chest and his lips mirror her grin.

‘Oh, good morning Miss Ashguard! I apologise for my reaction, I did not expect such an early visit. Is everything alright?’

Tav quickly combs her fingers through her freshly-cut curtain fringe. It suits her incredibly well, he catches himself thinking. The way that it sweeps across her eyebrows, its colour only highlighting the deep blue of her irises… It nearly steals the breath from his lungs.

‘Yes, yes, everything’s fine!’

He steps aside and invites her inside. As she passes him by with a light step, he closes his eyes for a second, savouring the aroma of her flowery perfume. As he realises what he is doing, he clears his throat and follows her to the reception.

‘Do you need anything more for the case against Mr Bongle? Perhaps I have forgotten to include some information in the report?’

She leans her elbows on the counter and does not seem able to eff the smile across her rosy cheeks. The sight, however sweet and pleasant, does stir something within him and he curses himself internally for reacting the way that he does.

‘No, not at all. The lawyer said it was quite complete, actually. She’s revising the case and I just have to wait now,’ she chimes with a shrug. ‘I’ve come here because there’s a stray cat in my street that’s been going around for a while but lately he’s been looking quite thinner. The old lady who used to feed it everyday died a few weeks ago, and I’m not sure anyone feeds him anymore.’

Her gaze wanders over to the rows of kibble bags on the display shelves.

‘I’d like to buy some food for him just to be on the safe side, and since I don’t want to risk giving him the wrong stuff, I thought I’d buy it here.’

‘I see,’ he responds with a nod. His eyes brighten up at the thought that she cares for an animal that is not hers. Most people he has seen refuse to approach stray animals out of fear that they might catch diseases or fleas, and while some caution is always advised, too many of them end up suffering all sorts of infections that go untreated and only cause them agony. Knowing that there is someone like Tav out there caring enough to notice the change in the cat’s weight gives him hope.

Halsin steps back to peruse the selection he has got, heading straight to the cat section.

‘Do you know how old the cat is, approximately?’ he asks.

‘Mmh, he doesn’t look too old. Hears and sees properly from what I know, his fur isn’t too patchy. Some neighbour said the old lady fed him for about three years.’

‘Then let us take one for adult cats to be on the safe side. I suppose that you do not happen to know what type of kibble she gave him?’

‘Not at all. Sorry.’

He nods and asks her a few more questions about what behaviours she has noticed from the cat in general. Once he is able to define a clearer profile of the animal, he picks a bag and sets it down on the counter, pointing at the information written on it with his pen.

‘This is food that is perfect for a cat used to the outdoors, aged five years or more. If it turns out that he is slightly younger, that should not cause any trouble. Since you said that he is on the lighter side, I would recommend thirty grammes of kibble per day. See how much he manages to eat and add a little more if he starts gaining a bit of weight again. But do not give him more than forty-five grammes, since it is likely that he hunts mice or birds on the side.’

‘Noted!’

Reaching into a cabinet behind the reception, he takes out a measuring cup and places it next to the bag.

‘This should help you measure the food without a kitchen scale.’

‘Practical. Alright, let’s take it!’

Halsin smiles and circles the recommended doses on the bag so she does not forget the amount he has told her to give the stray cat. He signs in to his software and enters the right reference to log the sale.

‘Would you like me to add it to your patient account in case you need to buy some new kibble later on?’

‘Gladly,’ she responds cheerfully, leaning her cheek into the palm of her hand while watching him typing on the keyboard.

‘Done! That will be twenty-two gold coins, please. The measuring cup is free.’

Tav takes out her credit card and pays for the bag. Once her wallet is stored away into her small cross-body bag, she carries the dry food under her arm and holds the measuring cup between her fingers.

‘Thank you very much, doctor.’

‘You are most welcome. If anything, I should thank you for caring for the cat.’

She returns his smile and tucks her hair behind her pointy ear, whose tip is reddening. Before he starts staring at it, Halsin drums his fingers on the counter.

‘Oh, before I forget, I beg you not to leave out milk for the cat, because—’

‘— because cats are naturally lactose intolerant,’ she completes his sentence with a smug expression that can be likened to this of a pupil who is proud to show that they have learnt their lessons by heart.

‘Indeed,’ he chuckles. ‘Well, it seems that the cat is in most capable hands, I can sleep soundly at night.’

Tav laughs and readjusts her grip on the bag.

‘When I’m released into society, I’m the type to always bring up that fact and everyone gets annoyed,’ she laughs.

‘At least you are spreading the good word out there. I did not know that you were doing public service on top of jingle compositions.’

‘I’m full of surprises, doctor.’

They share a playful grin, which lingers perhaps a bit longer than it should. His heart stirs when he notices the twinkle in her eye and the subtle reddening of her cheekbones. When her fingers unconsciously loosen around the measuring cup and it slips out of her grasp, he skilfully catches it before it bounces on the floor and hands it back to her.

‘Oh, thanks,’ she mumbles bashfully, tucking it under her free arm. ‘If anything goes wrong with the cat, can I try and bring him here?’

‘Of course. I will be happy to help.’

‘You’re the best! Thanks again. Have a lovely day, doctor.’

‘You too, Miss Ashguard. If you have any doubts, you can always contact me.’

‘I will!’

She waves at him and walks out of the practice. His eyes follow her as he sighs dreamily. However, his distraction is quickly cut short when he finds himself face to face with Astarion stepping inside with a cup of blood from the butcher.

‘Morning.’

‘Ah, good morning, my friend! Could I ask you a favour?’

The vampire grunts and slides his sunglasses up, letting them rest on top of his head. His ruby irises scowl at the veterinarian. Favours are never good in the younger man’s book. Or rarely.

‘I suppose I don’t have a choice,’ he mumbles. ‘What do you want?’

Halsin crosses his arms. No matter how much he tries to connect with him, even if just on a superficial level, Astarion always keeps his guard up and his distance. Honeyed words sometimes ornate his speech, but they never feel genuine, merely a façade that shelters him from others. He does not need to befriend him, of course, but he wishes that they could get along as well as he and Karlach do. But again, everything is easier with her. Sometimes, she might be too social and kind in a world that does not always value such qualities.

‘Karlach’s motorcycle broke down this morning, so she will be late. Do you mind working the reception until she arrives?’

Panic fills Astarion’s eyes right away. He furrows his brow and tries to act nonchalant, but his hesitation clearly stands out.

‘Wh— I don’t even know how any of this works!’

‘Do not worry, I am not saying that you must do all her tasks. If you could keep an eye on the appointments list and welcome the patients, that will help tremendously already. If the phone rings, answer it and write down the names and numbers, I will call them back between consultations. If it is urgent, do not hang up; call for me instead.’

‘Mh. That sounds doable. Alright.’

Astarion walks to the kitchen to drop his jacket and sunglasses, then comes back to the reception. He sits behind the desk and Halsin shows him everything he needs to know. Then, the veterinarian walks into his office and logs in to the general inbox and answers some emails himself.

Soon enough, the first appointment of the day arrives and Astarion directs them to the waiting room, where Halsin eventually comes to call them in. The consultation goes smoothly despite the very reticent puppy howling dramatically at the prospect of receiving one of her first shots. When he is done, Halsin guides the owner and the pet to the reception and registers the payment himself, before offering a treat to the brave puppy.

When they walk out, Halsin’s phone pings again.

‘Found a way, Dammon is bringing me. Be there in ten. Btw, doc, did you just make a joke?? And use a smiley??! Who are you and what did you do to Doc Halsin???’

Halsin laughs and updates Astarion on Karlach’s estimated time of arrival. Before the second consultation, a grumpy customer enters and asks for an anti-flea treatment suitable for a corgi. Once he has explained how to apply the solution efficiently, the veterinarian slithers back behind the desk and Astarion rolls a few inches away with his chair to give him enough space to deal with it all.

‘Do you already have an account?’ Halsin asks the amber-eyed tiefling, whose tail is whipping around behind him in annoyance.

‘This little shit is not my dog, thank the Gods!’ the customer answers with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. ‘He’s my sister’s.’

‘I see. Does she have an account?’

‘Listen, can I just buy the treatment and go? I feel like I’m being devoured by fleas myself as we speak!’

‘Of course.’

Without protesting, he processes the sale and gives the little pipettes to the young man, who turns around with another scoff and leaves as fast as he can, scratching his head harder than he probably should.

Eyeing the man with concern, Halsin leans towards Astarion.

‘Do you think the dog is at risk with him?’

Much to his surprise, the vampire laughs while filing his nails and admiring the result.

‘Most likely. I know him. Well, know is perhaps a strong word, but I’ve spoken to him a few times. As you can clearly tell, he’s from the city. He’s one of the most arrogant pricks I’ve talked to, and it takes one to know one. He owns a bookshop specialised in academic publications of all sorts, and my husband happens to love the place.’

Could it be? Is he actually opening up by accepting to gossip with him? Not that Halsin particularly likes hearsay and talking negatively about people in their backs, but this exchange already brightens up his day.

The vampire carefully taps his glass nail file on the edge of the bin under the desk to rid it of dust, then tucks it away in its little sleeve.

‘But don’t worry, Rolan’s all bark and no bite, he won’t hurt that pup,’ he continues while shoving the file inside his shirt pocket. ‘You know, he’s clever and all, but Gale took him down a notch a couple of times. You know what? I think my husband’s at his hottest when he gives arrogant people a reality check.’

‘That is good to know, I suppose.’

‘Trust me, doc, I think your next appointment’s here.’

Indeed, the next patient comes in and Halsin welcomes him warmly. Halfway through the consultation, he hears the faint sounds of the sewing machine upstairs, and he concludes that Karlach must have arrived in the meantime and relieved Astarion of his temporary duty.

Halsin does not see her until he finishes the next examination and logs everything into the computer. His assistant pokes her head in when the patient leaves and speaks in a hushed voice.

‘Morning, doc! Uh… There’s an odd chum lurking around in the lobby, doesn’t have a pet or anything and he keeps ignoring me when I ask him if I can help him.’

The veterinarian turns around with an eyebrow raised and instantly rises from his high stool.

‘Go back to the reception, I will talk to him.’

Karlach nods and does as he instructed her, sitting back on her chair and anxiously browsing playlists for something that will calm her nerves while being acceptable to play from the practice’s speakers. Situations like this one is among those she has been dreading most about working at Emerald Grove. Owners losing their pets and leaving without their furry or feathery friends remains the worst of all, but weird and creepy people are close.

In previous jobs, she had her fair share of lurking visitors and customers who made her feel uncomfortable, but the employee handbooks always stated that she could not shoo them away outright. Either a manager or security had to do it. Sadly, it often left her feeling incapable of fending for herself and infantilised.

Soon enough and much to her relief, help is on the way and Halsin arrives, clicking a pen. Without making himself look menacing either, he puffs up his chest slightly. If anybody seeks trouble, he is hoping that his size and his brawn will dissuade whoever stands before him. But as he catches a glimpse of the man in question, his stomach tightens. Intent on not showing his discomfort to Karlach, he smiles and speaks as naturally as possible.

‘Good afternoon, sir. I believe we have met this morning, you were looking inside the practice before opening time?’

The man turns around with a smug smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes so dark that one cannot quite pinpoint their colour. Now that Halsin is closer, he can discern the man’s outfit more clearly. Tucked into high-waisted trousers, his tailored black silk shirt with the top five buttons left undone allows his black chest hair to peek out. His overcoat adorned with golden embroideries has its collar upturned, completely covering the back of his neck. If anything, it gives him a menacing look, as though he is the villain of a fairytale come to life, but dressed as a model.

‘You are the veterinarian who owns the practice, aren’t you?’ the man answers at last with a brief squint of his eyes.

‘Indeed, I am. May I be of any help?’

‘Oh, I am merely looking around.’

As he says so, the stranger buries his hands into his pockets and paces around, inspecting the walls and the layout of the reception and the waiting room. Karlach sneaks a glance towards her boss, wondering how he is going to handle this most peculiar situation. Without blinking, Halsin steps forward, tucking his pen into the breast pocket of his scrubs.

‘May I know what you are looking for, sir?’

‘This is a beautiful working space you’ve got here. Most impressive.’

Before he can press him on, the stranger faces Halsin with a smirk, rubbing his fingers together in the same unsettling way that he did earlier this morning.

‘Tell me, have you ever considered selling this practice?’

Halsin crosses his arms. This time, he has no intention to behave in the same friendly manner. While he knows that escalating such a ridiculous situation would be useless, he knows now that he does not want this man lurking around anymore.

‘No, sir. We have only just opened, thank you very much. Now, if you do not wish to make an appointment or buy anything for a pet, I kindly ask you to leave. I must soon tend to another patient.’

‘Oh, that’s a bloody shame. Well. I’ll see what I can do.’

The man reaches into his inside pocket and takes out a business card, which he hands the veterinarian by tucking it between two well-groomed fingers.

‘In case you change your mind, I would be very happy to discuss it with you. Here’s my contact information. The name’s Enver Gortash.’

Without as much as a goodbye, Gortash walks out of the practice, leaving a dumbfounded pair at the reception. Karlach stands up from her chair, her gaze shifting between the door and Halsin.

‘What in the hells just happened, doc? What the fuck was that about?’

Her boss examines the business card he is holding with a deep frown.

‘I have no clue, Karlach. I am quite at a loss, to be honest with you.’

‘What did he say his name was?’

Halsin hands her the business card. Before she even gives it a look, she sits back on her chair and drags her keyboard towards herself, instantly typing the name in her browser. His curiosity piqued by the results, he joins her behind the desk and leans in to read what comes up on the screen. Karlach clicks on a biographical article from a business-centred media website and begins to skim it.

‘Fuck me, Gortash’s quite the big guy,’ she mumbles pensively. ‘Owns a big company that owns lots of brands itself. Apparently, he’s known for gentrifying the shit out of many neighbourhoods in several cities already. He’s kicked out independent shops to establish a coffee chain and turning flats into offices.’

His eyes scan the same words and the more they read, the tighter the lump in his throat feels. Karlach hands him the mouse so he can peruse the article himself and open others. He checks several sources, and much to his dismay, the information they read in the first article seem to be confirmed through others.

‘I do not like how that sounds,’ he whispers.

‘Me neither, doc. But now that you told him off, he’ll lose interest, right?’

‘Mh. I doubt it. But now I wonder if he has shown interest in other places in Heawick. There is only one way to know.’

The assistant looks up quizzically as he sighs heavily and crosses his arms.

‘If anybody in Heawick knows anything, it is Melly.’

Taglist: @emmanuellececchi @reignydeys @cakenpiewhyohmy @beardedladyqueen

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solar-net · 6 months

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THEY'RE DONE!! THEY'RE ALL FINISHED!! technically Sonic Prime as these are the main design's I'm gonna be using for Aus and my Fankid lore / designs- I hope you guys like them!!

[Start ID: A drawing of 9 characters from the Sonic Franchise all behind a height chart. From tallest to shortest we had Silver, Rouge, Knuckles, Amy, Sonic, Shadow, Blaze, Tails, & Cream. End ID.]

individual looks are under read more :DDD

[Start ID: A simple flat drawing of Silver the Hedgehog on a grey background. His pallet has been altered to include light grey to his quills and dark grey fluff. His gloved have been changed to an off-black and he now has heels. Above his head is the simple text that reads: 6'0" w/ heels - 5'9" w/o heels. His pallet is made in simple shapes around him, and a close-up of his eye is beside him. End ID.]

[Start ID: A flat drawing of Rouge the Bat, she's been altered with being a fatter, larger wings, and a more dulled pallet. Her fur is fluffed out and her clothes are a mix of her original design and her outfit from the Prime Show. Above her head is simple text that reads: 5'6" w/ heels - 5'4" w/o heels. Rouge's colours are blotted around in simple shapes with a close up of her eye beside her. End ID.]

[Start ID: A flat drawing of Knuckles the Echidna, he's depicted with more broad shoulders and his quills being pulled into a low hanging ponytail. He is now adorned with a golden necklace with three blue jewels on the front, his plain white gloves now have a dark brown wrap where the spikes are. Knuckles also has tattoos on his head, quills and right leg, he's also wearing bandages on his arms. His shoes have been turned into boots and have their colour dulled. Knuckles colours are blotted around in simple shapes and a close-up of his eye is beside him. Above Knuckles reads: 4'11". End ID.]

[Start ID: A flat drawing of Amy Rose standing on her tiptoes. She has two quills framing her face while the rest are short, and a green headband is over her head. Her outfit has been changed to have a black spandex undershirt and a dark maroon overall dress. Amy's gloves have been extended up her arms and her shoes are now have the colours from her Classic design. Her colours are spotted around her in simple shapes and a close-up of her eye is beside her. The text above her head reads: 4'7" not on tiptoes. End ID.]

[Start ID: A simple drawing of Sonic the Hedgehog holding up a peace sign with his left hand while his right is resting on his hip. He's a typical blue with the ends of his quills being slightly darker and the tips of his ears being a midnight blue. Sonic now has his bandana from the Boom series, and his gloves have been changed to have long red cuffs and off-white, his shoes have not changed. Sonic's colours are dotted around him, with a close-up of his eyes and the different colours that they have. Above his head the text reads: 4'4". End ID.]

[Start ID: A simple flat drawing of Shadow the Hedgehog, he's sporting his typical black, white, and red colour scheme. The main differences are his left ear, which is flopped over with piercings, and a long reptilian like tail that's feathered at the end. His colours are blotted around him, with a close up of his eyes beside him, one being purple and the other being yellow, they both have a star instead a typical round pupil. The text above Shadow's head reads: 4'1" w/ heels - 4'0" w/o heels. End ID.]

[Start ID: A drawing of Blaze the Cat in flat colours, she's a small stout and fat cat now. Her attire has been changed to exclude the fluff from her sleeves, and instead have them hanging off her her arms. Her tail now has a golden cuff around it with a red gem in the centre, her hair has been changed to be longer with two long pieces framing her face and the rest being put into a high ponytail. Her colours are dotted around her with a close-up of her eye beside her. Above her head the text reads: 3'2". End ID.]

[Start ID: A simple drawing of Tails the Fox in flat colours. He's colour pallet remains the same with the addition of dark brown added to the tips of his ears, arms and legs. Tails now has boots and his left arm had a glove while the right does not, he also now has glasses that sit atop his head. His colours are around him, with a close up of his eye beside him. The text above his head reads: 3'1" w/ boots - 3'0" w/o boots. End ID.]

[Start ID: A drawing of Cream the Rabbit in flat colours, her design hasn't changed much, the only additions being a white undershirt, and the brown around her eyes and the tips of her ears becoming darker. Her colours are dotted around her with a close-up of her eye beside her. Above her head the text reads: 2'10". End ID.]

#sonic prime #sonic prime fanart #sonic fanart #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedghog fanart #sth fanart #sth #silver the hedgehog #rouge the bat #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #shadow the hedgehog #shadow the ultimate lifeform #blaze the cat #miles tails prower #tails the fox #cream the rabbit #cream the bunny #lucart

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redux-iterum · 6 months

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Charred Legacy Allegiances: ThunderClan

Leader - Bluestar - tall blue-gray molly with a scar on her back and yellow eyes

Deputy - Speckletail - pale dusty brown and cream torbie molly with amber eyes

Seer - Yellowfang - long-furred dark gray molly with a flattened face, an underbite, unkempt fur, and orange eyes Apprentice - Cinderpaw

Matriarch - Goldenflower - thick-furred golden spotted tabby molly with a white chest and belly and amber eyes

Warriors Whitecloud - tall white tom with yellow eyes (Whitestorm)

Frostfur - white molly with green eyes

Darkstripe - dark gray tabby tom with black stripes and yellow eyes

Willowpelt - pale gray molly with pale green eyes

Teaselfoot - brown tabby tom with a pale belly and hazel eyes (Runningwind)

Mousefur - smallish dusky brown molly with a pale belly and amber eyes

Lizardtail - light brown tabby tom with stark stripes, a long tail, and hazel eyes (Longtail) Apprentice - Swiftpaw

Sandstorm - sandy golden molly with green eyes

Dustpelt - sturdy dusty brown tabby tom with copper eyes

Ravenwing - scrawny black tom with a white dash on his chest and tail-tip and green eyes

Graystripe - thick-furred gray tabby tom with thick stripes and yellow eyes

Fireheart - short ginger tom with green eyes

Apprentices Cinderpaw - dark gray molly with dark green eyes

Swiftpaw - black tom with white markings with amber eyes

Queens Brindleface - beautiful dilute tortoiseshell molly with pale green eyes

Kits Frostfur and Lionface’s litter Brackenkit - golden-brown tabby tom with white markings and amber eyes Thornkit - dark golden-brown tabby tom with white markings and hazel eyes Brightkit - white molly with golden-ginger patches and green eyes Snowkit - deaf white tom with blue eyes

Brindleface’s litter Ashkit - pale gray tabby tom with broken stripes Aspenkit - pale gray tabby molly with broken stripes (Fernkit) Cloudkit - white tom with ginger ears, nose, and tail

Goldenflower’s litter Bramblekit - dark brown tabby tom with white toes and chin Tawnykit - tawny brown tortoiseshell molly with white markings

Elders One-eye - ancient gray molly with one orange eye

Halftail - dark brown tabby tom with half a tail and yellow eyes

Patchpelt - black and white tom with amber eyes

#warrior cats #warriors redux iterum #iterum #arc one #book three #charred legacy #allegiances #thunderclan

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theocannibalistic · 1 year

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Aaaand NPC gala fits part 2!

ID: five digital drawings of original characters, described top to bottom and left to right. 1. Bluebell, a lanky firbolg woman with freckled pale blue furry skin, cow hooves and a cow tail, fluffy ears, brown eyes and long dark red hair in a braid crown at her hairline. She is wearing a cream gown embroidered with pink, lavender and white flowers and pale green vines. The dress has a plunging neckline that shows a white patch of fur on her chest. She also has pale green vine earrings and bracelets and flowers in her hair that match the dress. 2. Agnazar, an older elven person with black hair pulled into a bun with two long white strands that hang past her ears and end in lightning shapes. She is wearing big star earrings, purple goggles pushed up to her forehead, black boots and gloves, and an indigo coat with white buttons and trimming. She is holding a dark brown cane with a purple orb grip in her right hand. 3. Moxie, a broad tiefling orc with freckled seafoam green skin that blushes purple, asymmetrical upright horns, a long tail with a curly blond tip, brown eyes and fluffy pale blond hair shaved light brown at the sides of his head. He is wearing red dragon earrings, gold bracelets and gold rings on his horns, a red cape in the shape of dragon wings, a layered terra-cotta scale skirt, a purple tabard with a black dragon embroidered on it and dark teal leggings and brown boots. 4. Juniper, a wood elf woman with tan freckled skin that blushes green, dark forest green hair with braids and wrapped sections and brown eyes. She is wearing a green gown with three-quarters sleeves, a square neckline split at the center and bright green and blue botanical pattern on the skirt and sleeve hems. She also has a gold crown with five blunt spikes decorated with circular gems and a necklace with multi-colored beads and a stone pendant. 5. Sirocco, a young summer eladrin girl with a warm skintone, frilled pointed ears, orange yellow and red eyes reminiscent of targets and long pale blond hair with straight-across bangs. She is wearing a red gown with puff sleeves, a curlicue pattern and white gem at the heart-shaped neckline, full skirts and a pink tabard with white and yellow accents.

Player Characters NPCs Part 1 NPCs Part 2 (you are here)

#my art #dnd 5e #d&d npc #original character #dungeons & dragons #firbolg #elf #eladrin #fey #feywild #tiefling #orc

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cryptidclaw · 2 years

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Willowfeather (aka. Feathertail)! I felt like doing a fun pose for this one, she’s catching a fish :)

Willowfeather is probably going to be a combo of Feathertail and Stormfur plot wise, though Im still brainstorming plot ideas!

I need to start adding what identities i think these kitties have sooo, Willow uses She/they pronouns and is a lesbian!

Bec she’s like a combo of Storm and Feather I gave her both of their eye colors! They mostly look like Silverstream but she’s got her dad’s back stripe and face marking! They have lots of scars from River’s Tiger Order era.

In RoC Silverstream and Graystripe have two kits, Willow (named after both their mothers) and Oak (after Oakheart).

Silverstream survives the birth of her kits, instead she survives into River Order’s era as a part of Tiger Order. Tigerstar has all half Order cats (and in Silver’s case, mother of half Order cats) isolated, and given little food and care. Oak dies as a kit due to illness and being weak, and Silverstream dies of starvation and the same illness for which she was refused care.

Willow went through a LOT of shit during their childhood, and she never fully forgave River Order for allowing the treatment her family received. They still tried to keep an upbeat and determined attitude despite it all however.

Willow also has a trouble fully trusting Brambleflower and Tawnyclaw at first due to their father being Tigerstar, but she eventually realizes they cant judge them for their blood, just like how others judged her for her half Order blood.

I cant decide if I want her to die killing Sharptooth or not... I’m tempted to have them survive, but be deeply injured, and be forced to stay with the Mountain Colony while the rest of the journey cats return to the Orders. She could fall in love with Brook and find a home in the Mountains! Maybe she feels more acceptance and belonging there than with the Order that allowed Tigerstar to harm their family!

On the other hand her death has a big effect on Crowfeather... though maybe just having to leave her would hurt him enough.

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Willowfeather an au version of Feathertail from warrior cats. She is pouncing up on her back legs with their paws raised up reaching for a brown fish jumping near her head. They are looking up at the fish with a happy, determined expression, and she is smiling with their mouth open like they are talking. She is a slender, long furred, silver classic tabby molly with black stripes and one orange eye and one blue eye. They have creamy white on the lower part of their face, stomach, paws and tail tip. She has scars on her back, shoulder, and over their left eye. Her scars, nose, inner ears, and mouth are all light pink./End ID]

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #feathertail #feathertail design #feathertail au #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors

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cappuccino-bear · 7 days

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Gravelwing's Blood, a Warriors Ccinocats one-shot

This is my first oneshot in my Warriors rewrite AU I call Ccinocats, of which I plan to do more.

In this fic, the event of Cloudtrail's arrival in Thunderclan, at the time Cloudy, is told by the perspective of Gravelwing, reflecting on the events that have happened to her and her family.

Main cast (all characters that have a speaking role or are mentioned often)

Warrior Gravelwing who was Gravelface, a big spotted gray tabby with a white bib, mostly white feathery tail and tired teal eyes, she/her (canon Brindleface)

Warrior Stoatrun who was Stoatleg, a short but stocky brown tabby with horizontal stripes that cover his eyes like a “mask”, a cream colored underbelly, long ears and jovial lime green eyes, he/him (canon Runningwind)

Primehunter Lilyflurry who was Lilytuft, a lanky white cat with grey patches in a “pants” pattern, whispy fur, longer fur on his face like a mask and narrow yellow eyes, he/him (canon Whitestorm)

Junior Warrior Fireheart who was Firepaw, a short fiery orange cat with a blaze of white on his scruffy snout, one white paw, round ears whose tips flop outwards and intense green eyes, he/him (canon Fireheart)

Cloudy, a small, pure white, fluffy and curly kitten with a tiny pink nose, stubby legs, round ears whose tips flop outwards and baby blue eyes, he/him (canon Cloudtail)

Nurse/Senior Warrior Doeyell who was Doespeckle, an old, spotted golden tabby with a white throat, long neck fur, a scarred paw and serious amber eyes, she/her (canon Speckletail)

Deputy Tigerslash who was Tigerclaw, a muscular black marbled tabby with a scarred snout, very long claws and proud orange eyes, he/him (canon Tigerclaw)

Leader Bluestar who was Freezing Hailmoon who was Hailfur, a gray cat with darker “pants” and forehead with a long scar over her shoulders, slim legs, curved ears and narrow dark blue eyes, she/her (canon Bluestar)

Junior Warrior Sandstorm who was Sandsnout, a light brown tabby with faded horizontal stripes that cover her eyes in a “mask”, a beauty mark on her muzzle, powerful legs and serious lime green eyes, she/her (canon Sandstorm)

Warrior Twigsplinter who was Claytail, a light brown tabby with dark horizontal stripes, an unusually long tail, one split ear, a dark brown crest and playful teal blue eyes, he/they (canon Longtail)

Shunned Deputy Maplehawk who was Mapletail, a stocky tortoiseshell with a long red tail, a red ring around his scarred eye, a bite mark on his flank and tired amber eyes, he/him (canon Redtail)

That chilly morning Thunderclan's camp was quieter than usual. Patrols had already been organized and sent out accordingly, the two cooks had been preparing a hearty soup for the main meal of the day, and the retirees cozied up against the warm wall adjacent to the ovenrock. Marigoldkit and Thornkit, the two students, had just finished pushing the snow away from the middle of the clearing and were now cuddling each other in their nests.

The bleak sunshine made the frost on top of the leaves melt in the whole forest, and from the ivy curling around the roof of the nursery small drops fell into a puddle on the ground.

That puddle is where Gravelwing had been staring at since she'd woken up, the constant ripples in the slowly expanding body of water. In her own mind those tears belonged to her as well, even if she'd already spent too many in the previous days to spare any more in that very moment.

—

Gravelwing's name had been on everyone's tongue for a moon and a half, since she'd officially declared her pregnancy and temporary retirement. Stoatrun stood next to her that day, in front of the whole Clan, while the Warriors cheered at the news of new kittens, a warm hope to thaw the cold of Leafbare.

The celebration was accompanied by sharing tongues and platters of roasted mouse, if staler than usual- it was the coldest moon, they couldn't be picky.

Bluestar had even volunteered to help set up her nest in the nursery once again, but Doeyell, helpful and diligent as ever, got to it first before the ceremony was even over, so that very night the new expecting cat could sleep in a bed of downy feathers and soft poplar fluff from the Newleaf before.

The following days, she'd gotten visits on top of visits from sunrise to moonfall, first a brief one from her apprentice Fireheart giving her congratulations, then Frostflash, her loyal friend who’d brought her a plate of eggs cooked in their own shells, then Sparrowcurl, the future kits' grandfather. Every time, they'd hold back their tongue about the boar in the nest, never asking why she thought to have children again, after what happened to her other mate.

Stoatrun’s presence during the visits might have helped them keep the questions away, but she knew of the whispers outside, as if the culprits were ever out of earshot, on her loyalty to the Clan compared to her traitorous, and announced dead ex-mate.

She knew, deep down, she both missed him, yet wanted to spit at him for his betrayal, yet again wished he was next to her and Stoatrun like he should be, after he could answer why, why did he do this...

Once, Sparrowcurl noticed her tensing up while she started to spiral and left hurriedly, while her mate licked her neck fur to bring the same comfort she's done to her own kittens many times, and when she snapped out of it, the moment turned into one of reciprocated grooming.

Mousebite came in a while later, holding a bag full of trinkets to play Hopperscratch together, and by then she was already much calmer. She even ended up winning, to her clanmate's chagrin.

Her eldest children, Twigsplinter and Sandstorm, were always the last to visit. They waited until the dusk patrols had been sent before doing so, every day, and they only exchanged a few words during that time, if not to ask if their parents needed anything in that moment. It hurt, but Gravelwing understood, even if bitterly, because of how their family had fractured, it would take a long time before it'd feel right to not have one of their parents here.

Maybe it'd never come, but she held out hope that the new kittens could help with it, as her nose was buried in Stoatrun's fur while she drifted off to sleep.

Bogsnarl, a half-moon after she’d moved nests, had called her for her first serious health check up. It was as annoying as she remembered the first time it happened, with prodding and turning and poking all around, but Lynxpelt's presence, seeing how the young cat wanted to learn and memorize every herb and every question, made it more bearable, even a little fun to see her be quizzed by her new mentor on the procedure.

Until the very moment the medic asked the apprentice, kindly (and Bogsnarl was seldom kind), to fetch Stoatrun. A knot had twisted in her throat the second they were left alone.

And she found out it was a ghost pregnancy.

She knew it could happen to anyone, that no spirit was wishing ill upon her for it, that no comment should be made on her in regards of unloyalty or heresy, but in an instant cool, composed, calculating Gravelwing just yowled her pain for all to hear, uncaring of the rest of the world.

Her chance at a new family, a possible new normal, a feasible good thing was gone, yet it had never been there in the first place without her knowledge.

She'd still need round-the-day care, she still had milk at the end of it, but no kneading kittens to drink it, and an empty nest while Stoatrun needed to go on patrols despite the sorrow that weighed him down too, and the overwhelming feeling of grief for what it could have been.

And now, for the past moon, she'd been sleeping in the nursery, her teats still full of milk but her belly deflated, like her mood.

Anytime she'd step out to participate in amy activity the whisperings began again, and although it had been a moonsliver since Bogsnarl had officially declared her fit for work again, she knew the moment she'd go out someone would tear the nest in the nursery to pieces for its components, and the sense of dread anytime she even thought of going back to her nest next to the other Warriors made her legs wobble.

It got harder to groom herself everyday, looking at her own body made her shiver from head to tail, so Stoatrun would be the one to do so every time he'd come back from patrols. The time they spent together was silent, afraid that every question they'd pose would be met with nothing more than a tense breath and awkward silence.

Less cats visited her, now, no more joyful games or silly chats, and while some of it was probably Bogsnarl shooing them away, she couldn't decide if the other reason outweighed it.

Because she could hear the grumbling of stomachs, the shivers and chattering teeth just outside the bramble wall even while it was covered in thick snow. And the quiet remark of "someone here is doing nothing to help" stung just as much as if it was said directly to her face.

Her role was important. She should be out there hunting and tanning skin and lining the walls with bark, but nothing helped her feet move.

—

Her trail of thought was interrupted by the sound of shuffling from outside. Some gasps filled the silent camp suddenly, someone growling at another loudly before a third cat shushed them again. Gravelwing was confused, but then a booming, harsh, and wrathful shriek from Bluestar silenced most of the voices.

She wondered, as she looked up from the puddle to glance at the leader and a gaggle of cats who made their way towards the Highrock, what could be so serious that everyone was either whispering or yelling about it. When they moved out of view, she questioned if the worried whispers came from an imminent attack, despite no physical commotion or strange scents filling the air, but then the sound of pawsteps came closer and closer to the nursery entrance.

She could catch some bits of a conversation between Doeyell and Lilyflurry, their words hushed, but clear as day she heard the word "kitten" being spoken.

Her ears strained, wishing to listen more, to know how she might have to feel, until a small orange head peeked in: Fireheart holding a ball of down feathers in his mouth. She didn't question it, still hiding in the darkness, as the many cats now walking in the entrance were cloaking the inside of the nursery from the cold light.

Then the Primehunter Lilyflurry stepped inside, coming closer, his wispy white fur catching small rays of sunlight from behind.

"Gravelwing, would you be willing to wean this kitten here?" Lilyflurry asked, and Gravelwing's teal eyes grew wide until she recognized how the bundle of down dangling from her former apprentice's jaw had eyes and a mouth and a tiny little nose between all the fur.

Said Warrior, with a worried expression, pushed himself further inside, his head hung low to better show the tiny kitten, as if he'd realized a second too late that the grieving queen could not tell what it was.

And even if that wasn't enough, the little thing gathered a long breath and mewled as loud as it could, waking up the cat in front of it from the state of trance she'd been living in, lasting entire moon phases.

Fireheart and Lilyflurry didn't need to wait for a spoken answer as the kitten was grabbed hastily, then placed inside the nest and shielded between Gravelwing's body and her plumy tail.

Up close she could see their features better, underneath the fluff: their squinty eyes were still kitten-blue, the color of Brightleaf skies, their ears still closed to the sounds of the world, and their fur was even more dense and white and curly than previously imagined, barely letting two kneading paws peek out of it. Shifting around to keep them even closer she began to wordlessly lick their fur backwards to bring back more warmth in the body.

A sigh of relief from both of the cats standing in front of her made Gravelwing look up again, and in that moment it'd been as if the gravity of the situation hit her- Fireheart had just brought her a kitten in need of a mother.

Looking back down at them she noticed how their ears, even if still closed, had the same notch in the center that Fireheart owned, which let the tips of them flop sideways. For a moment she wondered, as if to deny reality, that it might have been Lilyflurry’s kin somehow, with the blinding white of their fur, but those ears, and the tuft of fur sticking up from the top of their snout, and the curls which Fireheart also had in his cheeks cleared who was truly related to them.

Before she could ask, however, all three cats turned around at the bemused call of "hold up!" By Doeyell, who entered by shoving the Primehunter and Junior Warrior to the side, making them almost stumble in the unused nursery nests.

"Gravelwing dear," she began, her voice serious but sweetened by worry, "in your current state are you even sure you'd want to keep a kitten that won't be of your family? Since Bluestar decided that the task of True Parent falls upon.... this other grown kitten." The last sentence was accentuated by a growl as she turned towards Fireheart, who in turn stood still and proud even if his ears pinned themselves back.

"And let him starve? I told you, his mother wishes for him to be raised in a Clan, and Bluestar agreed. You're the one that taught me the whole Clan takes care of the kits!" He growled back at the senior warrior. "Or do you think Bogsnarl should go invent a new herb mixture to let me produce milk instead?"

"Still, it does not change the fact that this here is not her kitten, nor was he born to a Clan, and Gravelwing here might not be comfortable with it!" Doeyell replied, and the Senior Warrior and only Nurse realized she'd just hit a badger's nest with a beehive by saying that to Fireheart just as he hissed back.

"How DARE you of all cats! I proved that I'm loyal to death for Thunderclan because you thought my previous life was too soft! This kitten here DOESN'T HAVE ONE! He was born two moonslivers ago, so what does he have to compare, the taste of milk?!"

Feeling that a fight might start between the two hotheaded Warriors, Lilyflurry put a paw firmly between them. "This is the nursery," He hissed under his breath, but both Doeyell and Fireheart's tails were lashing madly, two pairs of green eyes locking and exchanging venom, despite the reminder they'd just been given.

Gravelwing believed that as soon as the white warrior would blink both cats would be tearing at each other's whiskers, and that was the last thing she needed to see that very day, yet words caught in her throat- what if something she'd say to one would set the other cat off? She cared about both dearly, her friend and her apprentice, and she didn't wish for animosity between them, but now it was coming to that, fast, in front of her and a kitten.

A cough from just beyond the entrance interrupted them, and suddenly all cats inside stood straighter as a result of it, quieting down and interrupting the fight for a moment. Even the kitten quit squirming for a second as Bluestar and Tigerslash strode inside the den, the leader walking right up to Gravelwing.

The queen moved to stand up, but a whisker-twitch from Bluestar beckoned her to stay comfortable, despite the tension she held in her gaze and shoulders. Tigerslash stopped just behind her, glaring intermittently at both Fireheart and the furball of a kitten at her belly.

"Have you agreed to wean the kitten, Gravelwing?" She meowed. "Of course she did!" "Of course she didn't!" Fireheart and Tigerslash answered in unison, then the Deputy growled at the young Warrior, who answered at the aggression with a huff. The Leader however shot back a stern look, silencing both, and despite her cold equanimity her deep blue eyes glared daggers at both of them.

"I asked the question to Gravelwing," she pointed out, "and the only answer that is to decide the kit's fate is hers. If she denies her milk to him we'll find another solution, if she accepts him then she'll wean him, but nobody else's opinion on my decision to let the kitten in Thunderclan will be questioned or defended by anybody but me. Understood?"

Gravelwing's heart leapt in her throat at the realization that this decision was not being forced onto her. The kitten would not go hungry, she knew that, there were ways to induce milk in a cat and, if nothing else worked, bloodsoup wasn't hard to make even if it wasn't ideal.

It was her decision to care for him, and Doeyell was a little right: it would probably hurt a lot, the idea that this wasn't even her son in the Clan's tradition because Fireheart was the True Parent, this could not replace the kittens she could have had if things were better...

But looking down at him, his wriggling limbs, and Fireheart's ear notches on the tiny white head, she thought of how her Apprentice would strut around camp with his first hunt's reward, his ears wiggling up and down with the bounce in his step.

She remembered his kindness when the Retiree Leopardgrowl wouldn't remember his name and believed he was Seedstep, of all cats, of how he was not rude or blamed the sick cat despite no-one ever teaching him what timerot was.

She remembered how, when she showed him how to tackle opponents to the ground, he had immediately apologized once he'd gotten it right when trying with her because, how he was apologetic thinking she'd hit her head too badly.

She thought of how he listened to her cry pathetically about the Disgraced Maplehawk, saying how much she missed him despite how at the time he had actually been just across camp, yet invisible in the prison den.

How her entire family cried when Firepaw had to say that her ex-mate, from being a prisoner, died a hero because he tried fighting Shadowclan's thieves with Ravenscruff, long enough for Fireheart to run to safety.

How they gathered around and had their own vigil because there was no body and half the Clan still thought he was too guilty of treason, and how he also cried with them for a cat he would have only known as a criminal.

She remembered how, the day he was named Fireheart, and she cheered his name so loudly with all her lungs, he specifically ran up to thank her for teaching him so well, and she said the Clan would need more cats like him.

And at her belly, there was a cat he would have to raise alone, and she thought again of how the Clan needed more cats like him now more than ever.

"Yes, Bluestar. I want to help wean the kitten." She mewedlooking back at the Leader with a resolve to life she had not felt in moons.

A sigh of relief came from both Lilyflurry and Fireheart, but Bluestar only answered in a curt nod, then turned around to leave.

"Bluestar!" Doeyell called, but the Leader didn't even look back at her, "will the kitten even have a formal introduction? Or a Clan name in three moons?"

Bluestar turned around then, but stared at the kitten, not at who she was supposed to answer. "He has a name already and was welcomed to the world before, there's no need for it."

—

Stoatrun had almost tripped on his own paws when rushing into the nursery, and his mate had to kindly remind him that there was a kitten sleeping before he woke up the owls, too, with his shocked yelling. He was briefed on what happened after his hunt, and simply wanted to see the kit.

Gravelwing was ready to stand her ground on her decision, but knew he, of all cats, would be the most opposed to any argument of leaving a kit to starve.

Inside the nursery was Fireheart, too, crouching in one of the unused nesting spots. Gravelwing did not invite him to stay, but she had no reason to send him away. He just stared at the kitten, who was for all intents and purposes his son now, with worry wrinkling his brow, as if at any moment he might sprout wings and flitter away and he'd be the one to have to catch him.

Stoatrun positioned himself so the junior could still see while licking his mate's fur, and would intermittently bend down to nuzzle the kitten as well, who was now half asleep and unmoving, except for the rise and fall of his sides.

"Bluestar said he's got a name, yes?" The queen finally broke the silence, looking at her former Apprentice, who nodded in response.

"His mother named him Cloudy, since he's.... well, like that." Fireheart answered, not tearing his gaze from his son and nephew, looking at the soft curls of his white fur.

"Hold on, y’know his name? What ’bout his mother?" Stoatrun inquired, and Fireheart stiffened all of a sudden before looking down, dejected.

"My sister," he muttered, "She was pregnant, gave birth, showed up with Cloudy here and told me to raise him."

"She's a kittypet, correct?" Gravelwing asked, again, and if the Warrior could look more mortified he might have as he scrambled back on his feet.

"I-I just... I still feel so othered, Gravelwing,” He admitted. “You all have families, and mates, and parents and children and kin in here, and the moment I lost Ravenscruff, and Maplehawk, and now Cricketpurr’s friendship... I was alone... I met Princess only once before the last new moon, by accident, but then you moved in here, and felt so sick and sad, that I just couldn't bear it to come and ask for help for my small problems....

“So I'd go in her den, look after her five- five of them- five kittens so she could stretch her legs, because her folk was never home.... and then today she tells me she wants to make sure she could see at least her firstborn grow up not far from her, and that this way a piece of my family would be here with me, and maybe I would not feel so miserable, and I didn't stop her because she's right!"

He looked up with dark streaks of tears under his eyes. "I never forced her, you have to believe me, I never stole him, and I never wanted to put the Clan in danger... I'm just so lonely, Gravelwing...."

A strong set of paws pulled the standing Warrior closer to the other three cats, and his head was nestled just below Gravelwing's. Stoatrun, even if less warmly, laid his head on Fireheart's back, and both were purring to him for comfort.

"That’s all a lot to go through," Stoatrun muttered, "and y’even made time for me, after Lynxpelt got hurt, but you sound like you haven't had a break since you became a full Warrior, so maybe you should, let it go a bit maybe? Like, I know you found a distraction- a good one mind you- well, maybe not the best technically, since it was traitorous to speak to your kittypet kin-"

A small groan followed. "What my mate is trying to say," Gravelwing cut in, "is that we get how that would be stressful and lead you to feel this way. And we're sorry this is happening, and that you felt like you could not come here."

She leaned in to lick the top of his head, her voice dropping lower with her purrs. "I know I was going through a lot, and I probably still am, but Fireheart you are nothing short of family here, if not by blood then by heart. My nest will always have space if you ever need it, both for you and little Cloudy here, so don't be a stranger just because you're out of apprenticeship."

Fireheart still looked unsure, yet shuffled closer to the both of them, sighing and laying his tail over their fur. The older Warriors did the same, and now, all curled around each other and the kitten, they collectively had some time to rest their bodies and spirits from the emotions.

Not long after, two other cats trotted inside the quiet nursery, long after Cloudy had begun to sleep soundly, belly full and paws in the air. Sandstorm was the first to dare getting close and look at the kitten by her mother's belly, but made no comment.

Twigsplinter was another story, the young Warrior having gotten over his head one too many times in front of his family and having gotten away with voicing his ideas easily before.

"Are we... sure we want this eyesore in here?" He mustered every inch of self control, of which he had little left, to ask the question without adding unnecessary adjectives, but it was to save them for the next sentence, when nobody had yet answered him.

"I mean, he's so white he might blind the prey away from here! And with the kittypet blood we might as well-"

The Gravelwing of the morning before might have been too tired, she might have let her son continue even if unhappily so, she might have even let those comments be said about her, but right now, in a flash, she was half a step away from his face, growling quite loudly and leaving Stoatrun to faceplant in the nest.

"Son, I'll do my best to tell you this in a way you won't forget without making your ears evenly scratched," she hissed, looking now taller, bigger, as he shrunk down and curled his long tail between his legs.

"If you were about to imply we "might as well" do something other than feed him, I would be the first and last in line to tell Bluestar to find a way to drill the Code of Kittens in your head, since I made you working ears last time I remembered. And now that you mention it, in the same way you have Windclan blood through your father and loner blood through me, this kitten has kittypet blood like his True Parent, and Fireheart was the one to rip your ear tip after you tried beating his defenseless brother."

"Mother," Twigsplinter tried interjecting, but Gravelwing just growled louder.

"I was not finished! Call any kitten eyesore or worthless again and I might just throw you out of here myself! How dare you, I thought I had raised a valorous Warrior but it seems something crawled in your head to have you say such idiotic things!"

Sandstorm, a now awake Cloudy, and their respective fathers could only look as Twigsplinter was almost swallowed up by his mother's fury, and if anyone outside of the nursery heard they might think the bramble walls were about to burst from the noise.

A second passed, and the stiffness in Gravelwing's body faltered, until her fur had laid back down normally and her posture was straighter than a tree.

Her son, on the other hand, seemed to try to make themselves even smaller than before.

Sandstorm stuck her tongue out at her brother in an act of defiance. “Also Twigsplinter, my mentor and primehunter Lilyflurry is just as white as that little furball, so ask him how he blinds prey with his fur, maybe it helps him catch it!”

She shut herself when her mother turned around, but still had a smug expression.

"Apologize." she simply hissed, pointing with her head to the nest behind her.

Twigsplinter peeked their head around, trying to hide the tremor in their body, to see Fireheart with his eyes blown open at the display of righteous anger. His father had a similar expression, but changed it to feign disappointment in him. Sandstorm was still smugly grinning. A nudge to his foot shook him out- Gravelwing looked calmly furious, like storm clouds thundering but only threatening to rain down.

The young Warrior then stood up, wobbled to his orange clanmate and his son, and bowed his head down, muttering a "sorry" under his breath.

“Louder." His mother demanded.

"Sorry." He answered, louder as he was asked, but then felt himself being shoved down into the nest, with his face right between Fireheart's paws.

"Good," Gravelwing stated, taking back her place in the cuddle pile, letting her mate climb with his front on her back once again, and dragged down the rest of her lanky son so they was splayed in front of her before she began grooming their fur harshly, as if they were still a kitten. Sandstorm and Stoatrun both giggled, and Twigsplinter began complaining of an injustice and how "it's no longer necessary."

"What's not necessary?" Fireheart asked, and Sandstorm pushed herself close to him before answering.

"When Maplehawk..." a small pause from her followed, but she shook her head and began again, "when we were kittens we'd fight all the time. And when it happened, he'd make us sit down, apologize, then would pull all of us back in the nursery to sleep it off. He said it's because our hearts beating together made them, and us, less angry and more united."

"It was because otherwise we'd throw pinecones at each other for hours," Twigsplinter muttered, but his sister shushed him.

"Was effective," Stoatrun purred, reaching to lick his daughter's ear, "or we wouldn't have such smart kittens, you'd have both bonked y’brains out with those cones."

Fireheart snorted at the idea. "So you're telling me Sandstorm has a better aim?"

Alternating complaints and laughter followed the declaration, with Twigsplinter playfully jabbing at both their sister and clanmate, saying he actually got faster at dodging them.

The chatting, over the next hour, died down, as the sun reached its highest point and all six cats, in that nest, fell asleep over each other, a mix of purrs and snores in the warmest part of the day.

Gravelwing dreamed of family. Not of her a year and a half younger, with little cream kittens still called Long and Lean scampering about, one gray kitten named Lush- or Pebblekit if she’d lived long enough, of Stoatrun without his neck scar, of the previous Deputy touching noses with both her and their mate.

She dreamt of Stoatrun, a suckling white kitten, Sandstorm and Twigsplinter, and Fireheart, nothing short of her son, if not by blood then by heart.

#Ccinocats #warrior cats rewrite #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats fic #CcFirestar #CcCloudtrail #CcGravelwing #CcStoatrun #CcSandstorm #CcTwigsplinter #ccinospeaks #tw pregnancy #tw phantom pregnancy #tw loss #tw death #tw grief #ccinowriting

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