#i had to go walking this way and i was thinking about white hind by beth cavener bc it's making the rounds again and...anyway

[welcometothewarren]

i took my heart by west of roan [bandcamp link to original here]

lyrics transcribed under the cut

i took my heart, i took my heart

down, down, by the river-o

i buried it there where the ground is soft

and down where the waters flow

i went asleep, i went alseep

down, down, by the river-o

my hair grew long and dark and soft

and down where the waters flow

i kept myself, i kept myself

long, long, and lonely-o

in the narrow bed the dreams go down

and down where the waters flow

and the lovers come by one, by one

they bend the branches that grow by the river

i gather them up, i gather them up

and weave them into a wedding crown

[flowerandblood]

The Cry of the Sea

Halloween Request Oneshots Series

[ pirate! • Aemond x mermaid! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, virginity loss, fingering, smut, angst, abduction, violence, threats, obsession ]

[ description: A mermaid who rarely surfaces of the water decides to save a drowning boy. While she tries to keep him safe, she is kidnapped by strange, terrifying people, taken away from her mother and her home. On her way, she meets a captain with one eye who will decide her future fate. Obsessive, possessive, dark!Aemond.]

*Warning! Note from the author: The heroine has a name because of the plot, but apart from that there are no detailed descriptions of her appearance. Oneshot is written from a third-person perspective.

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

____

She had only heard about who people were from stories and what she learned made her rarely floated to the surface of the water. Her mother said they were cruel, that they killed through need, waged wars and destroyed each other, cold and ruthless.

She also said that in order to walk on the ground they needed two limbs, as they had two arms, so in place of their fins were to be so-called legs.

She never dared to ask her mother how she knew such things. She spoke of something like a sound, like music, that it reverberated through the air and was pleasant to the ears, that it had a rhythm, that people danced and jumped to it. She couldn't imagine it; she, her mother and the other inhabitants of the underwater city communicated with finger gestures.

One day she was awakened by a muffled bang, something she had never heard before, and she swam out into the night depths, seeing little. She widened her eyes in surprise to see not the night sky but an orange glow above the surface of the water. She looked back, thinking in horror that she should return to her shelter, but decided that she would just look out to see what was happening, to see if they were in danger.

So she surfaced, feeling the air in her nostrils which caused her pain, she used them so rarely that her lungs were not properly developed, she felt like she was suffocating.

She plugged her ears, terrified, hearing loud shot after shot, the great mountain with sails that her mother called a ship was hitting another masthead with fire, and she was between them, not understanding what was happening, panicking, hiding under the water again.

The sound was instantly muffled as she plunged into the depths, but she suddenly heard a loud splash beside her and saw the body of a white-haired boy struggling to lift himself up, unsuccessfully. She could see his hind limbs, his legs unable to lift him higher like her fin, merely waving fruitlessly in the watery depths, his body sinking lower and lower to the bottom.

She remembered her mother's words about how people couldn't breathe underwater and once they fell into it, they died.

So she swam after him, terrified, grasping him in her hands; he was struggling, terrified, but she managed to hold him and they emerged from the water together, panting loudly and coughing.

"Daeron!" She heard a loud, low, desperate cry, which frightened her, for the first time hearing the words, human speech, sounded strange, not like the noise of the water.

"Here!" She heard the childish, squeaky cry of the boy she was holding and plugged her ear with one hand, feeling a terrible pain. She heard the splash of water beside them and saw that a much smaller boat had fallen into the water.

There were people in it, big, pale, dirty, frightening.

She wanted to run away, but she was afraid that if she let go the boy would start sinking again, so she held him until they came closer and she helped him into the boat, panting hard, shivering all over. The men who sat inside looked at her in disbelief.

"Holy Seven. I think it's a mermaid!"

"Kill her, she can deceive with her singing!"

"Are you mad?! We'll get a fortune for her! We take her, let the captain decide."

She heard loud sounds spoken quickly, she felt like her head was going to explode, she wanted to turn around and submerge herself back, but she felt a large hand grab her by her hair.

Something strange came out of her throat, a sort of high pitched squealing sound that frightened her alone, and then she felt wetness in her eyes, even though she was fighting her way out she didn't make it, another man grabbed her by her shoulders and forcibly threw her into the lifeboat.

She was feeling that she was cold and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering all over, her half-naked body now surrounded by the cool night wind, one of the men shouted that they were swimming away and back up.

"Drop the net!"

"Don't hurt her! She saved me!" Squealed the boy she had rescued from death, pushing away the men who wanted to touch her, laughing loudly, amused, looking at her body. She was terrified and trembling all over, a white-haired child came up to her and embraced her, shivering along with her.

"It's going to be okay. I won't let you get hurt." He whispered softly, something in the sound he made of himself reassuring her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the moisture running down her cheeks, thinking only of the fact that she should have listened to her mother, and now she had to pay for her curiosity.

They threw her into a net like an animal, then lifted her up with a hand crane and her body suddenly fell to the wooden floor, lots of legs around her, lots of men talking loudly to each other. She covered her ears and cried, feeling only pain, terrified and frozen, and suddenly she felt that something was wrong.

The voices around her fell silent as she lifted her gaze and glanced over her shoulder.

In place of her shiny fin, covered in beautiful scales, were two long limbs, the same as theirs.

Legs.

She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away, another terrifying high-pitched sound came from her throat that felt like it tore her skin and she cried out loudly, terrified.

What had happened?

Where was her tail?

Her mother never spoke of her father.

She said he was not worth mentioning.

"He chose the sea, but not me." She had told her once, but it was only now that it was beginning to occur to her what she might have meant.

"What is the meaning of this?" She heard a low, cold voice and saw above her a man with a large scar on his left cheek and a black eye patch, he had the same white hair as the child she had saved, except that his was longer, tied with a black ribbon. He looked at her in disbelief, as if she were some strange, frightening creature.

"It's a mermaid, Captain! I saw for myself, as long as she was in the water she had a long tail!"

"That's right, sir, if we sell her we'll get crores!"

"Don't sell her, brother! She saved me!" She heard the voice of the same little boy holding him by the sleeve of his black leather jacket, his gaze directed at her again, this time focused and excited.

"We're turning back to the harbour. Find her some clothes, nobody can touch her." He said, and after a moment the men lifted her up, although she tried to pull away, it was to no avail.

They forced her to put on a long, smelly cloth and gave her some scratchy material, although when she covered herself with it made her feel warmer.

They locked her in a room from which she could only see the sea through a small hole and she watched in despair as she moved away from her home, from her mother. She pressed her forehead against the wooden wall and cried quietly.

She heard footsteps, quiet at first, then louder and louder, the door to her cabin opened and there the same terrifying man with a black eye patch stood over her, closing the door behind him.

"Who are you?" He asked, and she looked at him with big eyes, not understanding what she was supposed to do, what they wanted from her. She only swallowed loudly, not taking her eyes off him.

He came closer to her, and she stepped back quickly, pressing her back against the wall, breathing loudly, terrified.

"Don't be afraid." He said a little more calmly, kneeling in front of her, something unsettling in his eye, some kind of unhealthy fascination. She saw the gesture of his tongue running swiftly over his lower lip, as if he was just preparing to eat something tasty.

"Who. Are. You." He repeated word after word and tapped his finger against her chest hidden under her blanket, she flinched at the gesture, curling into herself, moving as far away from him as possible.

He lifted his hand and pressed it to his chest, wearing only a white chemise tucked into black leather trousers.

"Aemond." He said calmly. After a moment, he placed his hand on her chest, looking at her expectantly.

"You?"

She wondered if he wanted to know who she was, if he had just confessed his name to her.

She saw his eye widen as she lifted her hand, touched her thumb with her pointing finger, signifying the syllable 'Le', and then lifted her pointing finger up, signifying the lone vowel 'a'.

Lea.

He looked at her, shaking his head, sitting down in front of her.

"What does that mean?" She heard him say the words quickly, but completely misunderstood what it was supposed to mean, so she showed him the same gesture signifying her name once more.

He ran his thumb over his lip, looking at her intensely, tapping his fingers on his knee, then rose suddenly, startling her with it, opening some cupboard with a loud clatter, taking out some large object.

She saw that what he was holding in his hands had cards and patterns, he turned it towards her, moving closer to her and it was only then that she noticed it was letters.

Her mother had told her about them and had even drawn them for her explaining that people used them to write down words and their sounds.

She had written what her name and a few other sentences would sound like in their language, wanting to give her a comparison of how their gestures translated into their syllables.

She touched her finger quickly to a letter she recognised as 'L'. He looked at it curiously and read it out loud.

"L" He said and she nodded, pointing then to the "E" and "A".

He looked at her in disbelief, the corner of his mouth twitching in what she might have called a smile if not for the glint in his eye.

"Lea." He whispered, and she blinked, understanding that he had said her name as a whole, that that was what it sounded like. She nodded and he licked his lips excitedly, moving far too close to her, placing the book in her lap.

He began to point his fingers at more letters, and she followed the movement of his hand, trying to decipher what he was trying to convey to her.

Y O U S A V E D M Y B R O T H E R

You

sa

ved

my

bro

ther

You saved my brother.

The fair-haired boy.

She looked at him puzzled, swallowing loudly and nodded. She heard him sigh with some kind of relief and joy, happy to be able to communicate with her, pressing his lips together, leaning over the book again.

DAERON

"Daeron." She choked out the word she had heard when she had held his brother in her arms, which apparently was what he had shouted then, terrified.

She heard their captain snort a laugh under his breath, running a hand over his face, looking at her in disbelief.

"Yes." He hummed softly, his voice seeming calmer and gentler to her. She leaned over the book, this time she wanted to tell him something, and he immediately squatted down, looking at the letters she was pointing at.

WHY

She glanced at him with her lips tightened and he looked at her, swallowing loudly, his gaze cooled. He stood up abruptly and she was unable to make a sound, not knowing how to stop him, he walked out and left her alone, locking the door.

She tried to lift herself up on those two strange limbs, but she was falling, they seemed limp and weak to her.

She preferred to crawl, wrapped herself in her blanket and fell asleep lying against the wall, crying silently, praying to the Drowned God to take her back to the sea.

The next day, the little boy she had saved brought her food and placed it in front of her, stroking her head, saying something quietly. He then ran away as if he should not come to her and closed the door behind him.

She spotted the fish and bread on her plate and began to eat quickly, hungry and thirsty, she was given some disgusting liquid in a metal jug, but she drank it, not having much choice.

She spent the whole day lying in one place and it was only at night that she heard the sound of the lock being opened, the same man standing over her again.

He approached her slowly, crouching on the floor in front of her, massaging his chin. She held his book pressed against her chest, tried to look through it earlier, but understood nothing of it.

He gently took it from her hand.

She shuddered as he laid down on the floor just behind her, resting his cheek against her shoulder, placing the open book in front of them, pointing one by one with his finger at the letters and syllables he had spoken so that she could see them, illuminated by the moonlight.

"We - are - sai - ling - to - King's - Lan - ding." He whispered softly, and she blinked, her lips tightening, understanding enough that they were sailing somewhere far away, that she would never see home again.

She closed her eyes and wept quietly, feeling her body begin to tremble, a shudder went through her as she felt his lips on her neck.

"Don't cry." He whispered in her ear softly, warmly, tenderly, and though she didn't know what it meant, she thought he sympathised with her.

"I have no choice. If I let you go now, my grandfather would kill me. You are a chance for us." He hummed the words into her ear, his wet, warm lips trailing higher and higher, she wondered what he was actually doing, why she was getting hot from this kind of touch, why she felt a pleasant pulsing and tension between her limbs.

They both started panting as his hand slipped between her legs and began to touch her, she felt that this was a very private and intimate place, her thighs clenched involuntarily but his fingers slipped inside anyway.

She heard his every move accompanied by a loud click of her juices, with every stroke he made a pleasant warmth and tickle went through her, she felt something hard on her buttocks and moaned softly.

"− fuck −" She heard him mutter behind her, from which a shudder went through her. She sobbed in surprise when she felt his finger suddenly inside her, clasping her hand on his wrist, terrified.

He only shushed her while moving him deep inside her, rubbing him against the place from which waves of pleasure passed through her, from which she lost the remnants of her strong will.

She didn't put herself against him when she felt him lift her thigh, as something hot, big and hard pushed against her entrance from below and began to slide into her flesh, pushing her core apart with her loud cry.

His free hand held her tightly, she clenched her fingers against his skin, panting along with him as he began to move suddenly, pressing his lips to her neck, to her cheek, whispering and groaning low some words whose meaning she didn't understand, his thrusts pushing her hot, throbbing muscles to the limit.

She had no idea what was actually happening, what they were doing, but it felt good, she felt pleasure, she needed it after so many hours of terror, so she let him do what he wanted, easing down completely, moaning loudly as he turned her onto her stomach and lifted her buttocks, sliding into her with loud, wet slaps, his breathing erratic, loud and aroused, his fingers tightened on her skin.

"− I'm going to keep you for myself − you'll swell from my seed and give me offspring born from the sea − my inheritance − oh, fuck −" He mumbled out, feeling her walls begin to clench against him hungrily, a wave of pleasure shook her entire body, stupefying her and making nothing reach her, she felt something hot spill inside her, and then there were only their loud, accelerated breaths.

"− mine −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[thebellearchives]

I wish you would write a fic where Inumaki watches non sorcerer!reader from a distance since the Shibuya incident. He’s always there, making sure they’re safe and healing, and reader swears they see his face in passing crowds, passing it off as a coincidence. Until a chance encounter…

𝐂𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍

~ inumaki toge ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : you long for the comfort of the arms of your saviour, until you realize that he might need comfort in your arms instead

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, non-sorcerer reader, mutual pining, comfort, mentions of blood, suggested trauma, a little emotional ?, probably inconsistent with the canon shibuya incident-itadori’s extermination transition

‧₊˚ a / n : i started writing and it just kept getting longer and longer and i couldn’t stOP, this one qualifies as hurt-comfort i think? so ill tag it as both fluff and angst oop, hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

Ever since Shibuya nothing has been the same. Debris, cough, grey days, lavender eyes. Fear, panic, emptiness, white hair flowing in the wind. Silence, visions, dark purple fabric. You tell yourself you must be going insane, seeing him around the corners of dark alleys, standing at at the other side of the road outside the store, in the reflections of broken glass on the floor. But you wake up from your bed every night gasping for air, wishing he’d come to your rescue once again, thinking he’d come through your door. Longing to feel in the air that sweet scent of lilies that came from his clothes when he picked you up and took you to safety. To hear once again the hypnotic sound of his voice that saved your life that fateful day.

And as you make your way back to your apartment you hold your things close to your chest. There were many things about the incident that didn’t make sense, the whole situation was just ininteligible to you. The rumbling of the floor and the loud noises, the way things would just hit on the walls or the asphalt around you and not being able to tell where they were coming from. The huge, insect-like monster that stood on its hind legs as it took impulse to lunge forwards and take your life. Until you heard his voice and the monster exploded, fading into thin air just as quickly as it had appeared in front of you. But if none of that had happened, then how did his hands on your shoulders feel so real and warm? The worry in his lovely lilac eyes as he checked that you were in perfect conditions, or the way you could almost swear you could smell the copperish scent of the blood on his lips?

As you walked, you held in your hand the small bottle of cough syrup that he had accidentally left behind that night, the only proof you had that he existed. Your brows furrowed as you stared at the bottle, your steps coming to an end. If you could only see him once more and thank him for saving you, just hold onto him and feel like everything would be okay again…

A sudden movement caught your attention from your peripheral vision. Startled, your eyes drove to a narrow alley to your left, fear almost freezing you in place. But you caught it: a little glimpse of a familiar figure. So the fear turned into anxiety, maybe you were going crazy, or maybe not, but there was only one way to figure it out. Your feet moved almost automatically, sprinting towards the alley.

“Wait!” you voiced, wishing with all your might you were talking to him and not to a panic induced vision.

The figure continued to quickly try and escape by turning into different directions to lose you but it didn’t fade away, so your heartbeat quickened. It was him, it had to be.

“Wait, please! I just wanna talk!” you tried to pick up the pace, but your rushing only made you trip. You hitched a breath and tried not lose balance, looking down by pure instinct, but when you glanced back up he was nowhere to be seen.

Frowning, you started running now. You couldn’t let him go, not when he was so close to you, not when your chance to feel that relief again was escaping like water through your fingers. You turned to your left, right, left… until you were no longer sure where you were at all. The alleys seemed to had turned into a maze at some point with nothing more than trash cans and plastic bags everywhere.

A knot formed in your throat and you could feel tears of frustration gathering at the corners of your eyes. Why did he leave? Didn’t he hear you? Had you really imagined him after all?

A pile of trash fell down somewhere behind you, making you turn around instantly. Your heartbeat quickened in a glint of hope.

“Hello? Are you there?” taking a hesitant step forwards, your eyes tried to scrutinise the scene, trying to catch a glimpse of his figure, maybe his hair, anything.

“Listen, I just want to thank you… I thought…” you stopped yourself for a second, taking another step forwards and a deep breath “i thought i could just have a word with you?”

No response, a pained frown slowly appearing in your face, you bit your lower lip in doubt. Fine, one last try.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk, you don’t have to say anything, I’ll do the talking. But please… just come out, I want to see you.”

Something else fell down behind you, startling you once again and making you turn around in panic. A bad premonition grew in your chest, something wasn’t right. You could now feel it in your bones: you should not be there. And if there was something around it surely wasn’t who you were hoping for.

“What- ? Who’s there? Don’t come close!” you tried to flee, turning towards the direction you had come from.

But you ended up running into something that wasn’t there before, falling down onto the cold hard floor. You looked up just to find a horrid creature. Your eyes widened, panic weakening your legs and a scream getting stuck in your vocal cords. It was so similar to the one monster that had tried to hurt you the night of Shibuya, with dark green skin, multiple arms and eyes. The monster showed a creepy smile, widening its mouth, ready to attack.

You felt your stomach turn, your body trembling and the panic traveling through your body until your survival instinct kicked in. Somehow you managed to stand up and tried to run away, only this time you ran into something else. Or rather someone.

The white haired boy quickly grabbed you by your waist and moved you behind him, shielding you and defiantly glaring at the creature. You felt all your air freeze inside your lungs. He was there, he was real. His white hair was slightly disheveled, his purple jacket had one of the sleeves ripped off and you noticed he was now missing one of his arms. You wanted to speak to him, say anything, but you didn’t even know his name.

The creature laughed, sending a wave of disgust down your spine. Lunging forwards, it extended its arms wide and ready to attack. The boy didn’t hesitate, his powerful voice filling the alley loud and clear.

“Explode!”

The sound waves of his command hit the creature head on, causing a spark of fire to ignite in its skin and suddenly causing an explosion that sent it flying backwards, ripping its skin into shreds and filling the air with ashes and a strange smell of sulfure. You stood there behind him, eyes widened and your jaw dropped, until he suddenly started coughing.

“Are you okay?!” you tried turning him around, but he stopped you and nodded immediately, frowning a little and clearing his throat.

He glanced back at you with concern written all over his eyes. You remembered the last time had saved you and how he had stared at you just like that before holding your face in his hands and your shoulders in search of wounds. And he did just that again. He reached with his hand to cup your cheek, lifting your chin a little to make sure you didn’t have any scrapes or blood, before checking your neck and your arms.

“I’m fine, I’m-” he coughs again, your brows furrow in concern when you catch a glimpse of blood dripping from the corner of his lips “but you’re not, let me help you”

You reach to brush his hair out of his face and clean the blood, but he pulls back slightly. You freeze, and so does he, blinking a little before his eyes go back to yours cautiously.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to cross a line” you reply as gently as possible, pulling your hand away before hesitantly taking out the small bottle from your pocket “I have this… will it help?”

His eyes widen a little when he sees the small bottle of cough syrup in your hand and he can’t help but smile slightly. Nodding, he takes it from your hand and drinks it as if it were juice, sighing in relief right after and cleaning the little droplets of blood from his lips with the back of his hand. You take your time to carefully study him, trying to engrave every single detail of his into your brain. The messy rebellious hair strands that refused to go back to their place, the way his long white lashes moved along with his gorgeous lavender eyes and the lines and circles that framed his thin but rosy lips. He looked tired, like he had been fighting for longer than he should have, like he could use some comfort. The comfort that you had found in his arms last time. So when he looks back at you you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth.

“Would you be okay with a hug?”

He blinked a little in surprise before his tense muscles relaxed slowly and a little smile lifted the corners of his lips. He nods gently again, you smile back in tender concern. Not waiting for anything else you crashed onto him, hugging him tightly. Closing your eyes, you let the warmth of his solid body calm down the still agitated beating of your heart, the worn down scent of lilies you remembered filling your senses once again.

“Thank you” you whispered “for taking care of me all this time”

Sighing, he hugged back, his arm wrapping around your waist and resting his head on yours. Now you knew it: he was real, and you weren’t going to let him go now. Not when both of you were in this dire need from the solace that your closeness brought.

“Always.”

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hello! I need something fluff with Hiccup, like the reader realizing she likes him, gets nervous and avoids him. But he ends up asking her what happens.

That's all! I hope you have a happy holiday with your family, and I'm looking forward to seeing "sorry, but I think I lost your plot" advance !

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 12

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,251

You’re in denial. Hiccup is getting desperate.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, half-fill

<Previous - Next>

You stared at the slightly wilted flower in your hand.

 It was a wildflower with small white petals, each a bit peach and tawny as an eggshell. One was a bit bent and smudged with what looked like soot.

“Thank you.” You said.

Toothless sat on the floor on his hind legs.

Hiccup stood in front of you, not quite looking you in the eye, possibly waiting for a response to his earlier question. You had to remind yourself what kind.

“Johannes and Mulch are feuding because Mulch lost a sheep. Johannes doesn’t believe him but he has one extra,” You said, after a moment, “Mulch paid me to smack him on the head. I’m just waiting for him to pick up on it.”

“Would you ever want to-?” Hiccup started and paused hesitantly, carefully, Toothless looking quite annoyed, shifting in his saddle.

“Yeah- Ha, ha! Okay bud, I’m- Let’s go,” Hiccup said awkwardly, voice cracking at nearly the pitch of a squeak and dipping at light intervals as Toothless nosed into him crossly.

You looked at him, face measured in normal proportion, his dragon scaled and leathered in a way that went beyond the style of animation.

You held a small package in one hand as you turned, wrapped securely with cloth in one hand as you walked up from the fields towards one of the many wooden planks lining the village, “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said, as you left him behind.

The morning air was fresh, and though Vikings were early risers, this time the square was empty.

You glanced back after a while, then briefly looked back at the flower again once you were sure you were alone.

You thought, and your face heated slightly with embarrassment.

You felt like electricity was running up and down your spine, though you weren’t quite sure whether or not it was the good kind. You couldn’t say it was.

Did Hiccup like you?

Flowers and nice dates. Those he could do easily.

Then there were books, and chocolate. Hiccup would have to wait for Johann to come back to ask about the second one, and books were also expensive, sort of. He could probably make one.

Hiccup crossed his arms, laying his head on them and soaking in the afternoon light as he sat along a long bench, newly made and freshly varnished, set just outside the Great Hall. he scuffed his foot into the sparse grass clumps below, toe of his boot occasionally catching against them.

He wondered what kind of life you lived before, where gifts like books and chocolate were common instead of axes or swords. Or maybe he was too used to the latter kind being one of the people who usually had to take part in making them. Swords and axes could, too, be very expensive.

What kind of books did you like?

Hiccup scrubbed the back of his head.

He thought of how you helped him work on the fin for Toothless which he did, admittedly, make in an effort to win you over.

It was so easy to just exist like that, even if it was a bit tense. Even if Gobber did reprimand him later for letting someone else mess around in the forge.

Hiccup was too distracted to notice the crunching of footsteps as he approached.

“Why don’t you just a-ask?” Came a familiar voice from behind him, causing his shoulders to jump.

“Fishlegs?!” Hiccup asked, turning around to see the large teen in all his glory. He didn’t realize he voiced his question out loud, earlier.

Hiccup knew he wasn't very intimidating, especially with Toothless out for the count, snoozing away down by the field like the lazy beast he was, yet he scowled anyways.

They were usually on good terms after the Red Death, Fishlegs was the only other guy on the island who was anywhere near as different as Hiccup, though not quite and not really in the same way. Too bad he sucked.

“I-I wasn’t writing them for her,” Fishlegs stuttered, knowing exactly what Hiccup was talking about, even without words.

Hiccup glowered at him, “Then who were you writing them for?”

He sputtered, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” Hiccup grumbled, burying his head back in his arms, “That’s what I thought.”

Hiccup liked you.

How did you react to that? Did you react at all? Could you even call him fictional, anymore? Was this your new reality?

Why was that the first thing your mind jumped to? 

Work done, you let your feet wave, sat on one end of the docks, a part hidden under and around the large, unstable-looking pillars holding up the steep ramp back up to the village. The ocean waved under your feet, roiling and crashing, mimicking the larger waves against the rocks and craigs farther out.

The idea that you might have won over a fictional character somehow was sort of ridiculous. It seemed to breach some sort of unspoken boundary, some separation between reality and unreality.

There was a level of permanence to the idea that felt weird to you.

You blinked, the setting sun glazing over the world with orange. You wondered what the rest of the world looked like out here, if everything was the same, if you could venture out into the world and find the place your home should have been standing emptied, occupied by nature and nothing.

You felt at the flower stem in your hand with your fingers, letting it fall until it rested against your tips. You had a hard time believing it was real, keeping it safely tucked away in one of your pockets as you went about your daily life.

Were you and Hiccup even friends? You would like to say that, you realized.

You and he met up more than people who had nothing to do with each other did. He had at least three scars that you could name that had something to do with you.

A friendship was something real.

It was anchoring.

You shivered as the wind blew a cold sea spray onto your face.

You didn’t think you’d ever make it back home. It seemed unreal at this point that you had come from anywhere else, the grass under your feet and the splintered wood of Berk more real and tangible than anything you could reach from your old life with just your mind and your memories. 

So, in that way, it wasn’t something you could leave behind.

It was fresh.

How could you like him if you only just realized you were friends? 

You weren’t sure you could even muster up the energy to consider it.

You had a hard time believing everything was real sometimes, even as you nervously picked the grit out from under your fingernails.

You changed things. The idea filled you with nervous, jittery energy. It was sort of dangerous, made you feel sort of unsure. It made the world around you seem stranger, a little bit more dangerous.

Did the flowers even really mean anything? How common was it to give flowers here? Sure, it wasn’t that common, but you were certain you heard of it happening at least once.

Of course Vikings gave flowers. Everyone gave flowers, for a million different reasons. You didn’t exactly have an itinerary- no, an encyclopedia- or wifi to look up a reference.

Hiccup was probably just saying thank you or something. The idea made you feel easier, anyways.

It was harder to consider the alternative.

[ambrozjas]

OKOK… a fic with sodapop curtis x reader alright? but, soda is part of the rodeo and he’s getting ready to hop on the bull while reader is just totally hyping soda up, and once he finishes he runs back all giddy and stuff and just hugging reader and SQUEEZING them? idk but just in general, all i need is a rodeo sodapop x “cheerleader” reader. ty smm i luv ur writing btw <3

taming a bull ꨄ︎

sodapop curtis x reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

rkfkekddkek this is literally such a cute req, but i know almost nothing about bull riding so forgive me if i got anything wrong 😭😭

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

mentions of a bull, bull riding, and the bulls horns, and kissing (eww 😒)

✧˖*°࿐ word count 🧸ᰔᩚ

749 words, 3903 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“y’can do it.” you rubbed soda’s back as he hyped himself up, jumping up and down to circulate his adrenaline even more.

“and next we..” you both heard the announcer say through the giant speakers, the muffled audio from inside the dressing room distorting his voice.

“alright, it’s time!” sodapop said, jogging out to the door. you were turning to grab your bag and exit to the crowd before you felt a hand grab your arm and lips crash against yours. before you could fight it, you opened your eyes to see your boyfriend, giving you one last kiss before he went out.

you tapped his cheek, signaling for him to get a move on. once he had pulled away, he looked you up and down with his sea blue eyes.

“you gonna be m’cheerleader out there?” he asks, tilting his head.

“you know it.”

he beamed at you before he heard one of the crew tell him to come out. he gave you a quick wave and jogged out the door again.

you walked out another exit, making your way into the sea of people who were already cheering once soda had come out, half because of the sport and the other half because of soda’s good looks.

you watched with a smile as he searched for you in the crowd, saddling up on the bull while his crew secured him and the flank on the animal.

his eyes met yours, quickly crinkling with his grin before he was given the okay and braced himself as the gates open. soda grabbed onto his hat as the bull bucked its hind legs vigorously.

you cheered and clapped intently as you counted the seconds for how long he was on, already nearing eight seconds.

the bull shook its head along with his body rapidly, horns pointing in every which direction trying to buck soda off.

you and everybody around you whooped and whistled as the time finally hit eight seconds, and right after, soda finally flew off. he broke his fall as he shifted into a roll and clambered away from the bull to avoid injury, his back and pants covered in the light brown dirt from the ground.

his head turned quickly in every direction, eyes scanning the audience for you, and when he laid eyes on you, you’d think he was seeing an angel.

he ran up to you as you leaned over the railing, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt and pressed a kiss to his pink lips, a little rough probably from licking and chewing on his lips out of anxiousness.

“c’mon, baby y’gotta get up.” you whispered to him, eyes landing on the bull who the staff was trying to contain but all soda could do was look at you and smile.

once you had snapped him out of it, he climbed over the white spherical railing and the tall pieces of wood painted with ornate murals and graffiti that separated the audience from the dirt.

all sodapop can do is laugh and rush over to you, arms coming around your waist as you wrap yours around his neck. his grip on you was tight, rocking you side to side subconsciously as you mumbled praises in his ear, him pressing kisses to your cheek.

“y’wanna get outta here? maybe go to the dingo or som’?” he asked, pulling away but keeping you at arms length so he could hold your shoulder and look you in your eyes, those eyes he adored so dearly and those eyes who had supported him from the day you had met him.

you saw how soda was practically vibrating in place with energy, you wondered how his cheeks didn’t hurt with all the smiling he did.

“or y’know, we could head home or get some tickets for—“ you cut his stammering off with a kiss, holding his face with your hand as the other one found his hand. you heard a multitude of whistles behind you in the crowd at your interaction with your boyfriend, but you didn’t care.

it felt like those scenes in the movies, where everything went dark and you and soda were the only two people in the world, the announcer’s voice being tuned out in the background with the rest of the crowd. you and him were the only people in the world right now, it felt.

and that was all that felt right.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ soda’s literally my bae 🤭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[technaart]

Can we keep them?

Characters: Zhongli, Tighnari, Diluc, Ayato Request: what about Genshin S/Os reacting to you bringing home a stray animal. Genre: Fluff gn!reader A/N: To the person who requested this, I struggled with the poly request so opted for your second one! Fun fact - I only wished for Ayato because he has Gohan's Eng Va lmao

Zhongli was sitting back, book in hand peacefully reading. It's a surprise when you throw open the front door, slamming it shut in haste. It gave him the impression that something could be wrong, or that you could be mad.

Book forgotten, he was already on his feet when you stood before him with leaves and sticks trapped into your hair, a small scratch on your cheeks, and dirt on your clothing. It looked like you went rolling in a patch of bushes.

"Dear, are you -"

He is stopped short by a small meow that came from your crossed arms. It was enough to get his attention to see the little black and white kitten that stared up at him with big, round eyes.

"Can we keep him?"

You looked up at him with the same big round eyes and a kissable pout on your lips. Silently pleading with him to say yes, and deep down you knew he would.

Zhongli exhaled slowly, already knowing his answer. "If that is what you wish,"

He can never say no to you.

Tighnari can and will say no to you.

You stood there smiling like an adorable idiot looking like you just got in a scuffle with 20 Rishboland Tigers when in fact it was just one baby tiger.

The cub was held up for him to see, the cat bearing its teeth at Tighnari and he immediately shook his head quickly before any words can leave him.

"There is no way that is staying here, take it back. Now." He said sternly, arms crossed over his chest.

He did his best to ignore the mischievousness shining in your eyes or the pout you gave him that he sometimes fell for. Tighnari sighed, once again shaking his head.

"Its mother will be looking for them, it'll be dangerous for everyone if that happens." His words were soft as he spoke, talking some sense into you.

You cannot have a Rashboland Tiger for a pet.

No.

"A dog?"

You stood at the entrance of the Dawn Winery, a cherry grin plastered on your face. Standing next to you at your feet was a blond, fluffy-haired dog with an equally happy look.

"Can we keep her, Diluc? She'll fit in with us perfectly!" you bend down and hug the dog to you.

He can see the dog had some training, as she sat there with a small bark while you hugged her. Both starring up at him, waiting for an answer.

Well, it couldn't be so bad.

"Alright, she can stay here." He sighed, lips tugging upward at the happy laugh that bubbled out of you, already giving the dog a name and listing off everything you wanted to buy for her.

D/N ended up being a content, spoiled dog. Even Diluc would sneak her some treats when he wasn't supposed to.

Ayato let out a small, soundless sigh as he finished his current work. He couldn't say he was almost done, because they're will be more on his desk by the morning. He was thinking about the options of working a little longer when the sound of your laughter mixed in with Ayaka and Thoma caught his attention.

Now that he thinks about it, Ayato is sure he hasn't seen you since this morning. He couldn't leave it that way, so he stood up and followed the happy sounds to an amusing sight.

You and Ayaka laughed while an orange cat kicked Thoma's hands with its hind legs. The both of you cooing about how cute the cat is and all he can hear from Thoma is "ow, ow, ow".

Ayaka glanced up, eyes sparkiling. "Oh, brother! You're finished with your work?"

"For the night, yes." He replied, joining the trio.

The cat, curious of the newcomer went right up to Ayato, sniffing his legs before nudging its head against them. The cat was cute.

"I found him on my walk today with Thoma," You start, smiling at the adorable sight of Ayato with a cat. You wished you had a Kamera to take a picture of it. I was going to ask if it's okay if we keep him?"

Ayato picks up the orange cat, holding him up so that he can see it. The cat meowed at him to be healed properly, so he did so. Ayato nods his head as the orange cat moves into an awkward position - for Ayato - to fall asleep in.

"That'll be fine. You'll have to go out and buy the necessary things for him." He replied, then smiled at the excited talk between you and Ayaka.

He knows you get lonely sometimes with his overworking. A pet would do good for you, and even his sister and friend. There was no reason for him to deny his family.

[moonlight-tmd]

Alright new AU!

Cyberbeast AU.

Legends on Cybertron tell of various creatures; one legend in particular tells of great beasts whose power is unmatchable to anyone except themselves- the Cyberbeasts. It is said that only those chosen by Allspark itself receive the blessing. Many believe that Cyberbeasts are just a legend told by Creators to their Sparklings as a berthtime story.

Ok so- Cyberbeasts are generally stronger than an ordinary bot, even when they aren't in Beast Mode. They are unusually strong and durable in and out of combat.

It's almost impossible to tell if a Transformer is a Cyberbeast, the only way is to either witness them transform into Beast Mode or have an anomaly sensitive radar; Whenever a Cyberbeast transforms into Beast Mode, the anomaly is detected in the place they did it. Cyberbeast Hunters use them to hunt down and eliminate Cyberbeasts because they think they're dangerous, many others take them as crazy cuz it's a legend. Cyberbeasts live in hiding and only show up when absolutely necessary for their survival.

One doesn't realize they're a Cyberbeast until they are old enough to understand the concept; thru some important event they realize- once they have that Awakening about their true self, they are able to transform into their Beast Mode; think of it like werewolves- except they can change on command. When in Beast Mode, they can adapt to their envoroment; for example they can change their legs into a fin to swim or transform their arms into wings netted with holo-fabric(similar to wyvern wings). The rest of the frame also changes slightly to fit.

Few of the Cybertronian forged have this blessing, but from those we know; Megatron, Shockwave/Longarm, and Bumblebee are Cyberbeasts. Blitzwing counts as 1/3rd Cyberbeast because Blackarachnia used Cyberbeast blood to strengthen his triplechanger upgrade- he doesn't know he's part-cyberbeast tho. Nobody knows they are Cyberbeasts too.

The idea originally existed around Bumblebee: when he and his team first found the Allspark, he had his Awakening. Once they got to Earth, he started sneaking out to discover and explore his abilities.

I think his Beast Mode would look like these chinese dragons, except the body is short, the tail is hella long tho. Maybe i'll make a coherent picture of it in the future, right now you have a description:

-He has like, feathers of some sort- a great plume around his neck and a brush going from the half to the end his tail. The feathers are the same shade of blue as his optics and have a glow to them. The Autobot insignia is hidden by the plume. -Optics; when he is cybertronian they are normal(blue with white pupils), once he enters Beast Mode/goes feral(literally. not as in he's annoying gremlin) they turn black with blue ovals as the pupils. -His plating is still yellow, it also has a little more black to it. Maybe some biolight dots along his back. Plus some tiny white details for fun. Defo some pattern in there too. -His vehicle mode is kind of showing thru in Beast Mode- the tires are in his shoulders and hind legs, there's headlights n such. -His legs are digitigrade when is Beast Mode, despite more animalistic build, he can switch between walking on 2 or 4 limbs. -The 'nose' extends to be a beak and his horns are longer, kind of antler-like but no branching out, they are just long. -While his servos are clawed, his pedes are more like hooves but they're still clawed? It's weird.

here's some other things about Bee: -Very sharp denta(teeth). He can chew thru metal even while cybertronian. -Exeptionally durable during combat. Even when he's hit with lethal injury, somehow this fucker survives. Surprisingly high pain tolerance. -Electricity seems to do almost no damage to him, he is the type of Cyberbeast that utilize the electricity to their advantage and are immune to the damage it causes. -He can act as a light when it's dark. He'll make his feathers and biolights glow brightly to illuminate the surroundings. -He can make little lights that look like fireflies.

I imagine a time where the hunters came to earth with the intention of either killing or capturing Bee. He was out on patrol and bumped into the fellas. He came back to base impaled by a harpoon and 23 holo-bolts (arrows).

Just now i realize how fuckin miraculous Bee is XD Poor Ratchet, trying to figure out why the fuck this kid hasn't died yet.

[regulatedstrawberry]

Reaching New Heights : A Tails Adventure - Chapter 11

Thanks for waiting! Newest chapter of my Tails fic is finally ready. Feel free to read it below the cut, or through the link! This chapter features a warning for animal violence.

Summary:

“When this is all over… I think I need to go it alone for a while. I can’t grow into my full potential if I always fall back on you.” Tails decides to embark on his own journey, without Sonic. Amy goes on the girls trip of her dreams, with Cream and Sticks. Sonic receives a surprise visit from the future. Takes place after the main storyline events of Sonic Frontiers.

Rating: T Words: 29k+ Chapters: 12/?

Tails took a hearty bite of the last of his apple, unfazed by its mealy texture. It was the next morning, and, decidedly, his last morning at this crash site. He had slept with his new device cradled next to him, anxiously awaiting his opportunity to get back to civilization, fantasizing about the luxuries of life: a hot meal, a hot shower, and a warm, cozy bed.

Tails set the apple core neatly on the ground, trying to shake off the guilt with the fact that it wasn’t quite littering – it was composting. He stood up and stretched his arms high, feeling the sun warming his face. He was filled with a vigor he hadn’t had in a while, decidedly optimistic about his expedition. 

He glanced over at the Jaguar, who had already devoured its morning meal - the catch of the day from the river. It laid on the ground unbothered, while attentively licking its paw, reaching every crevice.

“I’m going to pack my bag, and then we’ll head out!” Tails called out, before walking to his duffel bag and bending down in front of it.

The bag was lighter than before, the fresh fruits and some other food having been devoured these past few days. Rummaging through, he took note of everything inside: notebook, toolkit, remaining rations, sweater, homemade radio device with a magic gem inside, and of course, his blaster gun.

Carefully, Tails picked up the blaster and held it, the sleek white metal cool in his hand. He definitely had more powerful weapons back at the lab, but this one was light and compact, ideal for traveling. He opened the panel at the side to check the battery - only 10 percent charged, to his dismay. Maybe there was a way to charge it, if he had enough parts to sort through. It would be good to have.

“Ah!”

A nudge against his back interrupted his thoughts. Jumping slightly, he turned to see the Jaguar beside him, rubbing its head against Tails’ shoulder. 

Tails laughed a little, surprised at the sudden affection, but decidedly welcoming it. He lived with Sonic long enough to know the many, many ways to say ‘hurry up’. 

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled lightly, closing the blaster panel and stuffing it back in the duffel bag. “I’m ready.” 

Tails zipped the bag and stood, before looking at the Jaguar’s hind leg, noticing the absence of the gauze around it. He wasn’t sure if it came off naturally, or was removed in a fit of annoyance. A scar had formed, and the large jungle cat was walking well, with only a slight limp. 

Tails stopped, and looked over his shoulder one last time. The remains of the Tornado laid there in a heap, with the red paint worn from the metal plates. Days ago, the fateful crash during the storm felt like the end of his journey. He’d spent countless hours in the hangar building and modifying it, making sure the yoke and its controls fit like a glove on his hand.

Now, he had accepted its fate. It served its purpose, and gave him the tools to finally begin his adventure. 

With a wistful sigh, Tails turned around, and continued to follow the Jaguar into the forest.

—

Tower EG-5013: 12.3 miles away.

Satisfied, Tails breathed in relief. He flipped the switch off on his device, and nodded, looking over at his companion. “Okay, pretty sure we’re on the right track now.”

It had taken over an hour to really find the right direction, using the handheld satellite as a ‘hot and cold’ box. The two had traveled through the dense forest in almost a large circle, something that initially made Tails more anxious as he became more disoriented from the crash site. But now, he was finally getting consistently closer readings to a cell tower, or tv station, or something that could at least lead to a road, and eventually, a city.

Tails observed the Jaguar looking around rather focused, its ears perked up. He never expected a response, but he’d been around his companion long enough to tell whether they were relaxed or not. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Tails asked. 

His question went unacknowledged. The Jaguar was now crouching perfectly still, its ears flattening back in alert. 

Uneasy, Tails’ eyes darted across the thick jungle foliage, listening carefully for any rustling or sudden movement. After a moment, their suspicions were confirmed - a faint rustling of leaves to the left. 

The yellow fur on his neck was standing on end. His legs were glued to the ground, trying to catch even the tiniest sound of whatever was nearby while ignoring the sound of his shaky breath. Every second that passed felt longer than the last, with the air growing thicker in suspense. The longer they waited, the more unsure he was about whether to reach for his duffel bag, and find his weapon.

And yet, there was no time to react. 

Before he could even gasp, something shot out of the bush behind him, the weight slamming Tails at full force in the chest. The homemade satellite fell out of his hands as he slammed against the dirt. Large, spotted paws pinned his chest to the ground. 

Tails couldn’t hear the growls and commotion around him. Instead, he was wide eyed, mouth hanging open as he stared down his attacker in the face: another jaguar. He wanted to scream as the predator snarled, baring its sharp, menacing teeth at him, but he realized he couldn’t breathe. Only a whimper escaped his lips, and the predator roared, teeth unhinged straight for his face. 

It dawned on the young fox that this was probably the last thing he’d see: the jaws of an animal, before it ate his face off. Tails clenched his eyes shut and braced himself, his only prayer being for his end to be a fast one.

Tails heard another roar, and quickly, felt the weight of the predator’s paws off of his chest. He breathed in sharply as if it was the first time he’d felt air, and rolled over to his side. 

He looked over to see the Jaguar, with its scar on its rear, fighting off the predator. The large cats swatted and growled at each other with clawed paws, their large bodies rolling against the jungle floor. 

The sound of metal clattering took Tails’ attention, and he quickly looked back over his shoulder. Of course, the predator had brought a friend, another jaguar who had found its way into Tails’ duffel bag. It was preoccupied with destroying the bag, making sure all of his tools, items, and food were sprawled on the ground. Before he could lament about his belongings, his eyes settled on the blaster gun on the ground, just within his reach. 

Quickly, Tails clawed the dirt beside him to reach for the blaster, turning it on swiftly with muscle memory. He closed an eye and aimed at the two brawling jungle cats. His hand was sweating, trying to identify friend from foe as they wrestled each other. 

He saw the familiar scar of his companion on the back of its leg, and saw the predator bite down into the Jaguar’s neck. The Jaguar yowled in pain, as their coat began to stain red.

Tails pulled the trigger. 

A blast of energy knocked the predator down, off of the Jaguar. The predator growled in pain, laying on its side, as the Jaguar turned to look back at Tails.  

Tails almost sighed in relief, until the Jaguar began to run towards him. Startled, Tails stepped to the side and turned around to see what had his friend on edge. Of course, the other predator that had destroyed his bag was making a beeline for him while he had been distracted. 

Tails raised his blaster again, quickly aiming at the other predator barreling towards him, and pulled the trigger. 

Only this time, nothing came out.

“What?”

Tails clicked the trigger again, then again, before realizing that he had used his remaining shot.

“No, no no no no no…”

Tails could only plead in vain, his heart pounding in his chest. He watched in horror as the Jaguar came to his defense yet again, blocking the remaining predator from even reaching him. Another brawl emerged, the two jungle cats growling and clawing at each other viciously.

Before Tails could even think of what to do, however, he heard a low, gravelly snarl from behind. 

Of course, his one shot from earlier, that had taken down the first predator, wasn’t debilitating enough. The wounded predator had gotten up, and was eyeing Tails with hungry eyes. It was prepared to use whatever remaining strength it had to exercise its revenge on the young fox.

At this moment, he realized he was out of options.

His one weapon was out, and he wasn’t exactly equipped with quills to take out his foes with a spin dash. 

As a last resort, Tails looked back at his valiant companion for help. His stomach dropped, eyes widening in shock. “No!”

He saw the Jaguar laying on the ground, at the mercy of the other predator. His new friend was alive, but barely. Now it was just him, and two large cats, who were hungrily waiting to pounce at his throat.

In the next moment, the young fox acted with instinct, and regretted every second of it. 

Tails spotted his handheld satellite on the ground, and made a mad dash towards it. He grabbed it and held it tight to his chest, before jumping into a hover. 

And then, he flew as fast as he could, deeper and deeper into the thick of the jungle.

—

Peace and quiet. Just how he liked it.

Laying down, Knuckles rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, atop the stone of the Master Emerald’s pedestal. He had memorized the feeling of the floor against his back, with the gentle glow of the Master Emerald against him. Of all the places on Angel Island, his serene home nestled among the clouds, there was no other place like it.

Being the guardian of this relic was a job at the end of the day, a preservation of his people’s history. He took it seriously, and any time spent away from Angel Island left him with a lingering anxiety. So to say he was glad to be back in the humdrum of his life’s purpose, unbothered by the goings on of the world below, was an understatement. At least, until it became his problem. 

A cool breeze washed over him, and he sighed, shifting his arms beside him. He was enjoying his nap. He’d been taking a lot of those since he got back. 

Another breeze came, feeling cooler than the last. Knuckles shifted his body, feeling the cool air on his legs and chest. He wasn’t sure if he’d felt that correctly, or maybe it was a one-off thing. Unbothered, he adjusted himself, resuming his siesta.

Then came the next breeze. 

Rather, a gust of cold wind; it made all the hair on his body stand on end, whistling against his ears. Knuckles’ whole body stiffened, almost moving to hug himself as his eyes snapped open in surprise.

Quickly, the Echidna moved to stand up, completely alert, as he frantically looked at his surroundings. For a moment, he thought he was rudely transported to another location, so he almost sighed in relief when he saw the Master Emerald next to him. 

Another frigid gust of wind blew through him, and he hugged himself tightly. As he tucked his chin down, bracing from the cold, he noticed a few tiny, white specks fall in front of him. It occurred to him that the Island looked darker than usual, the golden rays of sun absent from its lush green terrain.

He looked up. It was just a dark, cloudy sky, with the beginnings of snow traveling down to the ground. 

A confused expression formed on Knuckles’ face, completely taken aback by the weather. Eggman, he would expect. Or aliens, really. But…

“Snow?” Knuckles asked, growing increasingly suspicious, as he braced himself for another gust of wind.

His red brows knit together in deep concern. The power of the Master Emerald regulated the island, keeping its green base locked in an eternal springtime. 

It never snowed on Angel Island.

The only exception to this was the summits of the island’s mountains, their tall peaks capped with a layer of ice. But suffice it to say, this was a puzzling weather anomaly. 

Knuckles breathed out, and saw a puff of white air leave in front of him. The temperature was dropping, and fast. With this, a new problem dawned upon him. His eyes widened.

“The Chao.”

The Chao were the other residents of Angel Island, playful and sweet in nature. While he mainly kept to himself, he had an amicable relationship with them, sometimes helping them when they had trouble reaching whatever object caught their attention. While he didn’t always understand their childlike wonder, he felt some form of responsibility to them, mainly by keeping the island and the Master Emerald safe. 

Knuckles was quick to jump into action, immediately jumping into flight and soaring through the frigid island. He scanned the area as he flew, taking note of any trees or plants they usually stayed around. 

Angel Island was an appropriate habitat for the Chao, not only because of the lack of predators, but also because of the controlled climate. That is, until now.

As he soared through the air, his eyes caught sight of a trio of Chao, colorful bodies huddled together for warmth. The Echidna landed quickly in front of them, kneeling down to look at their round, miserable faces. Their eyes were large and helpless, as they looked up at the guardian. 

“You guys okay?” He asked with concern, extending a hand out.

A strong, frigid gust of wind blew through them, and the Chao decided it was too unbearable for them alone. Without warning, they squeaked and flew towards the Echidna, pressing their faces against his chest for warmth.

“Ah– Hey!” Knuckles stumbled back at the surprise attack, until realizing it wasn’t an attack at all: they were just cold and shivering. 

With a sigh, Knuckles pet their heads awkwardly, resigned to the situation. He wasn’t really a touchy-feely kind of guy, but they were cold. He could feel himself getting colder too, now that he wasn’t flying. 

“We gotta look for the others,” Knuckles said, stepping back to meet the three Chao in the eye. “Will you help me get everyone together?” 

The three Chao exchanged looks between each other, before facing Knuckles again. They smiled and cheered, determination in their faces as they fluttered about. 

Knuckles smiled a bit, and nodded in confirmation. “Great. Let’s do this.”

—

Knuckles’ feet hit the floor of the Master Emerald’s stone pedestal, with the sound of a soft crunch. There was a thin layer of snow, no more than an inch thick, covering the pedestal. Oddly enough, there was an empty ring in the immediate area around the Master Emerald; with no snow around or on top of its large facets.

He was followed by a band of around thirty Chao, who had all flown as a unit together, relying on each other for warmth. They weren’t as chatty as usual, their squeaks and hums hushed with worry. It didn’t take long to find them, as many of them were already seeking out the Echidna’s protection in the first place. 

Knuckles sighed heavily, and sat down on the ground, cringing slightly at the feeling of cold snow on his bottom. He was feeling drowsy, but whatever chill he felt was now replaced with an inner warmth. He had the Chao together, but he needed a moment before he could continue figuring out what to do next. 

The Chao hovered expectantly around him, looking at their guardian with worry. They whispered to each other, before making their way closer and closer to the Echidna.

“What— hmph.” Knuckles grunted in disapproval, but again, resigned to their affection. He was, effectively, covered in a blanket of Chao, as they all huddled around his body for warmth. He almost couldn’t complain about it, considering the cold, except for the fact that they were touching him. 

The Echidna closed his eyes, drawing a long breath. He’d just take a minute to collect himself. 

“Long time no see,” said a familiar voice.

Knuckles opened his eyes and looked up to see Rouge the Bat, floating down to the ground gracefully, with that typical cheeky, knowing expression on her face.

“Rouge.” Knuckles wasn’t upset at her presence, but not exactly enthralled, either. The bat visited every so often, with an agenda to fawn over the Master Emerald, and bug Knuckles while she was at it. Admittedly, he didn’t mind her company, and actually grew used to it – or rather, just accepted that she was going to show up whether he liked it or not. 

“I dropped by a few days ago, but nobody was home,” Rouge shrugged. “Didn’t realize you were babysitting.”

“Tch,” Knuckles scowled, feeling rather undignified beneath the pile of cold Chao. He quickly stood up, gently brushing the Chao off of him, so he could speak to Rouge properly. “What are you doing here?” 

Rouge wasn’t planning on answering that question. As the wind blew, the bat cloaked herself in her wings, and shivered. “Brr, didn’t know I’d need a jacket,” she commented, inconvenienced.

The pod of Chao squeaked, their tiny, trembling bodies burrowing into each other for warmth. Knuckles bit through the cold as the wind hit him again, but this time, not feeling so bothered by it. “Something’s wrong with my island. It’s not supposed to snow up here.” He paused and looked over at the large, green gem, situated within the stone pedestal. “But I didn’t sense anything wrong with the Master Emerald. How did this happen?” 

Rouge caught the worried expression on Knuckles’ face. She was well aware of how seriously he took his duty, simultaneously annoyed and intrigued at his insistence on keeping the gem on its weathered stone pedestal. He didn’t talk much about himself if it wasn’t related to his tribe’s history, or its relic. 

But another, strong gust of wind sent the snow against her, feeling like small knives cutting into her skin. She wasn’t interested in sticking around any longer, at least not without a coat. Knuckles had been toughing it out for a while in this weather– at this point, he was going to get sick, whether he wanted to believe it or not.

“We gotta go, Knuckles,” She said urgently, a serious expression on her face. “At this rate, it’s gonna be a blizzard.”

Knuckles folded his arms over his chest, looking at Rouge with a displeased expression. “If you can’t handle a little wind, you can go. But I’m not leaving my island until I get to the bottom of this.”

“The Chao are freezing, Knuckles,” She rebutted firmly, gesturing to the shivering, helpless pod of Chao. “They can’t stay here. You’re about to get hypothermia,” she said pointedly, noting how he seemed unaffected by the cold. “If something happens to you, then who’s gonna protect the Master Emerald?” 

Knuckles scowled at the blow to his ego, knowing she was right. His mind was racing through all the possibilities that his people’s prized possession, his purpose, could be stolen right from beneath him. He wanted to argue that he’d be strong enough to fight through the cold, to devote every ounce of himself to protecting the emerald. It was his duty, after all. 

But when he turned to look at the Chao, freezing and helpless amongst themselves, the guilt hit him in a final, decisive blow. He had a duty to protect this island, and those that lived on it. 

Scowling, Knuckles hung his head in defeat, before turning to face the shivering bat in front of him. “Fine,” he said quietly, his voice deep. 

He’d leave, if only to help evacuate the Chao, and grab a winter coat while he’s at it. But he wouldn’t rest until he got to the bottom of this.

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 11

“Do you feel ready for this?” 

Brokenmast gritted his teeth and nodded. There was no uncertainty in Dustjump’s question, just the calm caution of a healer confirming with her patient that they were ready to take the next step in their recovery. And he was. He knew he was.

Two moons ago, Dustjump had announced that the driftwood splints that had kept his back straight had done all the good they were ever going to do- the bones had healed fully, and all that was left was increasing Brokenmast’s mobility. When the uncomfortable, stiff splints had come off, Brokenmast had breathed a sigh of relief, believing the hardest part of his recovery to be over. He’d been wrong.

Dustjump had never lied to him about his path to recovery, but part of Brokenmast had expected the healing of the fractures in his spine to do more for him, that once they’d healed he’d be able to walk again. But apparently, healing the damage in his spine and retraining his back half to function the way it once had were two distinct processes, not entirely unrelated, but not a one to one connection either. He’d been able to start some of that work while the splint was on, but most of it had to wait for the bones to mend fully. Over the last two moons, Brokenmast had regained much of the feeling in his hind legs (though he still woke up with his hind legs numb if he slept in the wrong position), and had then worked hard to regain a complete range of motion. A moon ago, he’d been able to stand for the first time since his accident, albeit with support from the hefty reeds Dustjump had been binding his legs with and help from his campmates. A half-moon ago, he’d taken his first steps with Tidechaser and Dustjump supporting him on either side. And today, he was going to walk out of the den on his own for the first time. 

Dustjump’s eyes shone with pride. “I’ll go and get him,” she purred. “You join us when you feel ready.” The light brown tabby ducked out of the den, leaving Brokenmast alone with Foam, the only cat aside from Dustjump who knew what he would be attempting today. When the young brown and white tom had first moved into Dustjump’s den with a deadly cough, Brokenmast had felt mildly concerned for his acquaintance, but he’d also felt a tiny bit resentful of having the space he’d come to think of as belonging to him and Dustjump invaded by another cat. But as Foam had lain recovering in his nest, with nothing to do other than sleep and talk all day, he and Brokenmast had struck up a true friendship, to the point where Brokenmast had been sad to see the other tom leave the den once he’d recovered. However, true to his word, Foam had continued to visit, sometimes to bring food or talk, and sometimes to assist with his recovery. Between him, Tidechaser and Dustjump, Brokenmast’s old loneliness seemed a distant memory.

“I’m ready now,” he informed Foam, bowing his head. Foam bent over with a purr, sinking his teeth gently but firmly into Brokenmast’s scruff and heaving up. As Brokenmast felt the pull on the back of his neck, he pushed up with all four paws, settling into a standing position. Going from laying or sitting to standing was still very difficult for him to do alone, but he could feel himself growing stronger all the time. Soon he’d be able to rise to his paws unassisted. 

Foam gingerly touched his nose to Brokenmast’s ear. “I know you can do this,” he murmured.

Brokenmast nodded, not daring to break his concentration with a verbal reply as Foam helped him to the entrance of the den. The other tom’s supportive bulk disappeared from Brokenmast’s side, and he paused for a moment, preparing himself for the task ahead. 

He stepped out into the light.

It was a clumsy step, solid and hard, like his paws were made of wood, but it was his step, and his step alone. He found his goal, the broad, spotted back of Tidechaser, currently facing away from him, deep in conversation with Dustjump. The molly glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of Brokenmast with a flick of her ear for acknowledgement. She leaned close to Tidechaser to whisper something, her tail brushing along his back, and then Tidechaser was turning around, his gaze confused at first, then going wide as he caught sight of Brokenmast. 

Brokenmast took another step. Then another. The journey across the camp’s clearing seemed to take moons, and he was panting by the time he made it halfway across, but he was determined to make it all the way there. His gaze was trained on his goal, the large form of Tidechaser watching him with pride and joy shining in his eyes. Brokenmast kept moving forward.

With a final step, he reached his friend, his heart pounding and his breath heaving. But he was here at last, here at Tidechaser’s side, and he’d done it all by himself. Tidechaser bumped his head against Brokenmast’s with a purr so hard that it shook his entire body. “You did it,” Tidechaser murmured. “You really did it. Brokenmast, you’re amazing. Congratulations.”

The rest of the cats in camp closed in around them, offering words of praise and encouragement, but to Brokenmast, Tidechaser’s words were worth more than all of them combined.

[braveclementine]

Prologue

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

𝕬 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖉 outside a burning house arguing with a giant. Well, a half-giant at any rate. "I am Harry's Godfather Hagrid, give Harry to me." He said, desperate to take Harry. He knew there was another child in the house as well, a child Hagrid had overlooked, a child that Lily and James didn't want the world to know about.

Hagrid argued against him. "Dumbledore's orders." He said stubbornly. There was no arguing against Dumbledore's orders. At least, not if you were Hagrid.

Sirius hesitated, panic filling his veins, on the brink of arguing and of saving the girl. "Fine, take my bike, I won't be needing it anymore."

Hagrid took the bike and was soon in the air, loud rumbling making the lights in some of the neighboring houses turn on. He didn't have a lot of time. Sirius hurried into the house before turning into a black, shaggy dog. He whined as he stepped over James, his best friend, lying dead at the entrance. His eyes were still open, his glasses slightly askew. But he could not stop over James, he had to get to the girl before anyone else showed up.

He dodged falling beams till he reached the entrance to the basement. He stood on his hind legs, pressing his paw to the door. It swung open and he hurried down the stairs.

He returned to human form, guilt filling his veins. This was all of his fault. Why had he suggested that James use Peter instead? It had seemed so genius at the time! There was no way that Voldemort would've seen such a stupid, cowardly man as the secret keeper. And yet. . .

The air was purer down here, magical barriers to keep out disasters and enemies. All except Sirius Black- the only one who knew of this child's existence outside Lily and James and Harry. Would Harry even remember that he had a sister when he got older? Would his sister remember Harry? She would have to remember Harry right? Siblings always remembered each other, right? He wouldn't know, he wanted to forget his own brother.

She was sitting in her crib, white furniture and pink bedding, looking intently through the bars as though she knew her time had come to leave. All her emergency supplies was in a pink backpack next to the crib. Sirius looked through it quickly. Bottle, clothes, food, diapers, Gringotts key, and a special locket that Lily had bought in Diagon alley. She had put pictures of her and James on both sides of the heart. It was a small thing too, the pictures nearly microscopic. Lily's picture was holding baby Harry. James was holding the girl.

Sirius reached into the crib and picked up the little girl. She rested her head on his shoulder. Sirius closed his eyes, trying to figure out the next move. He was the only one in the world who knew that James and Lily had this child, they hadn't even told Dumbledore. They had told Sirius not to tell a soul. Sirius would break that promise tonight.

Sirius quickly ran through the house, and running out the front door. He turned his head sharply, thinking he might've seen someone. . . he would've recognized that oily long haired Death Eater from anywhere. . . but there was no one there. It must've been shadows and his paranoia. He turned his back on the shadows, thinking quickly.

He settled the girl into his arms, wondering if there was a rule about apparating with children as young as the girl but knew he didn't really have a choice. Hagrid had taken his bike and he had no other means of transportation to where he needed to go.

He turned on his heel, ending up in a random alleyway in downtown London.

He walked carefully out of the alleyway, looking left and right. There was no one around. He slipped into a 24-hour Muggle coffee shop and took a table near the back. There were small booths for Muggle children and he placed Elizabeth Kane Potter in one before he pulled out ink and a quill and parchment to write his frantic letter.

Dear Remus, I don't have a lot of time, I have something I must do. I'm sure you'll here about soon. I am the Godfather of Elizabeth Kane Potter (and Harry Potter but Dumbledore is sending him to live somewhere else). I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, it was James and Lily's rule. They didn't even want Dumbledore to know. I am sorry they didn't tell you. But now, it is your turn to keep the secret for I may not be around to keep her safe and she needs someone to depend on. For some reason unknown to me, she must be kept a secret Remus. James said to change her name to Elizabeth Kane if anything were to happen to them. I have the documents inside her backpack. Keep her a secret and love her well. I did not know who else to turn to. Forgive me for what I will do, Sirius

Sirius placed the letter and documents in an envelope he had enlarged with magic. He put it in Elizabeth Kane's' backpack. He looked at her little eyes. They were James eyes. She had Lily's face, her brown hair with red tints, but she had James brown eyes. Sirius reached out a shaky hand and touched her face softly. He would miss James eyes. James had been like his brother. Her little hand curled around his pointer finger.

"Puppy" she said in a high, clear voice. He hadn't realized she could speak so clearly. . . didn't kids start talking at two years old or something? And she was just over a year old. . .God, he loved her.

He smiled the last smile he would smile in a long time. "C'mon Lizzy. I'm going to take you to a loving home."

He stood, picking her up and making sure he didn't leave a thing behind and left the shop, getting dirty looks from the bartender behind the counter. He supposed he should've bought something, but he couldn't stand Muggle coffee. Disgusting stuff.

Standing back in the abandoned alleyway, he put the locket over her head and slipped it under her pajamas. He hugged her tight and apparated near Remus's home. He walked quickly until he reached the small house. Full moon wasn't for another two weeks, thankfully. Sirius put Elizabeth on the front step of the house, setting the backpack down next to her. He hesitated at the door, wanting to knock and also not wanting Remus to be the last person who had seen him. Hagrid would have to be the last person to see him. He could not put the pressure on Remus. They might go after him if something prevented him from keeping him from murdering Peter Pettigrew.

He bent over and kissed her on the forehead and then got up and backed away, unable to take his eyes off of her. He also hoped that she didn't try to follow him. She was only a year old for Merlin's sake and yet she was acting like a three-year old. He waited a full minute. He had to leave, he had to track down Peter, and he had to kill him. If only he, Sirius, had stayed the secret-keeper. This girl would've grown up with James and Lily and Harry. Now, she had only her Godfather who would probably get caught killing Peter, and her second Godfather, Remus who would love her, but he wasn't James either. Peter had to die. It was all Peter's fault. No, it was all his fault.

He turned away. "Good luck Elizabeth Potter." He whispered and he turned on his heel, disapparating into the night.

➡️

[choose-your--own-adventure]

NAME: Clover Arbore

PRONOUNS: They/them

AGE: 24

ANYTHING ELSE TO HAVE IN MIND:

I'm largely thinking of this character as more of a guide kind of character than a protagonist-type, since I'm not sure if you're looking for main characters, major supporting ones or both, but I can also see them being a "main character who just kind of stumbles into events" kind of character. Largely, though, I took inspiration from characters in games who act as guides/hint givers. Kass from BOTW was a major inspiration for Clover. Chicory from Chicory: A Colorful Tale also wormed her way into their inspiration, mainly making the idea of having this character be an animal-like character, but I based it more on the surface-level Chicory presented in the intro of the game than actually super complex Chicory, with the only thing excluded from that being the actual talent Chicory has and Clover probably doesn't. Maybe they do have some depth like Chicory does, though, even if the problems may not be as bad without the heavy expectations which caused a lot of their inspiration's depth. Also I wote them with nby lesbian swag in mind. This is not important but it is to me

BACKSTORY:

Clover grew up in a very normal environment, though I like to think they're the sort to have grown up with many, many siblings and cousins and to think that was a normal family size until they're talking with somebody and mention all 6 of their biological siblings and 4 of their adoptive ones. The big thing with them is that I like to think that Clover never exactly had any big skills. They're in a family full of renowned engineers, doctors and whatever fantasy careers can be put in here. However, Clover was always an artist. A poet, a painter, a musician and every other form of art they could find. The problem is that, while they've improved just a tad in recent times, they've always been painfully mediocre. They even tried getting into a few fantasy art schools, but they've been rejected from plenty, not because they're bad, but because they're so unbelievably average. Clover kind of started going through an early-adulthood crisis as a result of this, and began moving around to maybe find work. Looking for somebody to purchase their latest novel once they're done more than a third of it, or their slightly above average poetry anthology, or somebody willing to give a dime during a street performance, or somebody to buy a painting from them, or literally any kind of commission they could get, regardless of whether or not the rates would be fair to them. This leads to them traveling a lot, searching for their calling, and while they've improved art-wise, they haven't grown enough to settle for anything, or to find what they should do. Maybe, though, adventure will knock on their door someday, and tie them to a story which they could write a million stories about, one which could lead them to what they've been looking for; acknowledgement.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE :

Probably as a result of making only anthro characters, I can best see this character being an animalfolk type of character to contrast a lot of other characters in the world. Probably a result of one of their two inspirations, I'm aiming for this character to resemble a cottontail rabbit if you put a cottontail rabbit on their hind legs and wished them luck in walking (they also have the grace of a rabbit in this situation, that being none at all). They're pretty short, albeit probably a similar size to the rest of the cast (ie. they're not bunny sized). Brown fur, white chin, all the typical cottontail features. A lot of their basic shapes would probably be pretty triangular, if that makes sense. Their fur is usually decently maintained, but that does not give them any ability to not look like a mess, considering that they always look like they're wearing when they went to bed in, or a night robe or something. It also does not help that basically everything they own is covered partially in splotches of paint or ink that they have long since given up on cleaning.

[nemufaery]

Chapter 4 | Spring Path

Below the star shaped window on the second floor of the Night, pink stardust drifted away from the ground.

As a ‘one leaf’ cherry blossom tree with lilac branches quietly grew. Reaching just above the star shaped window.

The inner petals of the delicate cherry flowers white with the outer petals a light pink. With each flower having over twenty petals each.

Within the flowing stars.

The glistening Milky Way with its colours brightly glowing together. The view stretching out beyond the meadow of glowing white cosmos flowers.

That had lilac star designs on the dainty petals.

Pink coloured stardust was floating through the air.

Yuki was sitting on her knees as the snowflake fox chased a butterfly shaped glow around along with Mimu.

Mimu’s lilac eyes glanced over at her. With a wave of a paw.

A giant white bellflower popped out of the ground underneath her.

Yuki softly blinked. Gently touching the soft giant petals she was no sitting on.

“It’s really soft,” she mumbled.

Mimu’s nose twitched in response before joining the snowflake fox in playing.

Nemu jumped up onto the giant flower cushion next to Yuki.

She lightly smiled as she patted behind her ears.

Nemu purred as she leaned her head closer against her hand.

“There’s somewhere I think you would like to go once you wake up,” she meowed.

Yuki tilted her head to the side.

* * *

The next moon phase.

The crescent moon had returned to its white hue. As the butterfly glows had also disappeared.

A glistening dew rested on the petals. Left over from the fog from the previous blue moon.

The white double French doors clicked open. Leading to the garden of glowing Lilly of the valley.

Yuki stepped outside.

Her hair had been tied up into high twin tails by white pompom hair ties.

Her eye makeup consisted of a simple warm-toned, light pink with a light lavender shimmer in the outer corners of her eyes.

She was wearing an oversized pink parka over a high waisted pink gingham skirt with shorts attached and pink thigh high socks and white shoes with heart buckles.

When she went to tell Sena she was leaving, he was worried about her being by herself since she didn’t know her way around.

However once he found out the Star Guardian of the Night Court was going to be with her, it lifted his worries.

She softly blinked her starkissed eyes. Looking up towards the night sky.

To see the constellation shaped like a cat located right over the Night Palace.

“Nemu,” she mumbled.

As pink stardust danced through the air around her. Before moving in-front of her and turning into Nemu floating in the air.

Nemu’s lilac eyes were focused on her.

“Princess,” she meowed.

As the pink stardust in the air disappeared.

Nemu guided the way as she walked in-front on her hind legs.

Sparks of stardust drifting away from her fluffy tail as she walked.

A short walk away. The view of the Night Palace could be seen behind Yuki.

As the spring breeze brought the faint scent of lilacs through the air.

White blossoming wisteria trees , with lilac bark, had white moss phlox covering the ground forming the shape of a crescent moon curling around.

“The areas behind Wisterias are hidden away and only stars can enter by themselves unless a star lets them in,” Nemu meowed.

As Yuki stepped closer, three of the wisteria branches parted ways, creating a pathway through.

She followed Nemu inside.

The sweet scent of lilacs filled the air.

The wisteria pathway closed behind her.

She glanced behind her before following Nemu deeper inside the garden of lilac flowers.

As Yuki stepped out of the wisteria tunnel and into the garden, a burst of stardust shot out.

She softly blinked, looking around.

“It’s reacting to the star energy in you, the stardust,” Nemu meowed.

“It’s the Night Kitten!” A voice whispered.

One by one, white fluffy kittens all popped out of their hiding spots.

The white kittens were a little smaller than Nemu. But all had the same matching lilac eyes.

“Another star,” two kittens meowed in-unison.

Yuki crouched down within the flowers.

As seven of the kittens approached her.

“Hello,” she softly mumbled.

As the kittens got closer. One jumping up into her lap as another climbed onto her shoulder.

Nemu stretched out her paws against the flower covered ground.

“These little ones were made from the small stars that reside in my constellation,” she meowed.

As Yuki gently touched the soft paws of one of the kittens whose lilac eyes were looking up at her.

[sekhisadventures]

The Song of the World

Vol’dun, Two Years Before the Blood War

Vol’dun, a vast desert expanse in the Northwestern corner of the Island nation of Zandalar. Mostly it was cut off from the Zandalari capital of Daza’alor due to the dread swamps of Naz’mir and the mad blood troll cult that dwelled there, but there was little reason for the trolls to come to Vol’dun anyways.

Inhospitable at best, an expanse of sand and rock, occasionally broken by ancient Zandalari ruins or, sometimes, the skeletal remains of some massive beast. Still, some called this desert their home...

See now, a caravan winds its way down from the Torktaga Refuge on the northern coastline. The turtle-like tortolla seek rare growths and fungi that are found in the depths of the desert to craft their potions and inks for their scrolls. In exchange they trade salted fish, jugs of fresh water, medical salves, and other useful things.

Thus why Kiro and his people sought them out. Life in the desert was harsh but with cunning, sharp eyes, and a willingness to work with others it was life. The caravan carts were pulled along by a pair of wooly alpalca, their hides shorn short to help cope with the harsh desert heat, and flanking its sides were riders mounted on hyena, their mounts occasionally giggling and growling excitedly.

The riders however would draw most eyes. Small creatures akin to gnomes or goblins, but covered in glossy fur with long fluffy tails and huge pointed ears, their faces and bodies looking akin to foxes that had somehow learned to walk on their hind legs.

These caravaners were vulpera and their leader was Kiro, a red-furred vulpera with white fur on his muzzle, streaked with gray here and there showing his approaching age. He wasn’t old yet, but he wasn’t a young kit anymore either. He was a shaman, his caravan’s healer as well as it’s leader, but lately he’d been distracted… the elements were whispering to him, but their voices seemed to be out of focus somehow.

As the caravan rode along the rider next to him looked over, “You okay Kiro?” she asked. A female vulpera. Unlike Kiro her fur was as white as the sandy dunes, with black tips to her ears.

Kiro nodded, “Sorry Meerah, just… something feels a bit odd today.” the caravan leader replied. “Its probably nothing.” he replied.

“Hmm… I hope so Kiro. I swear the Faithless are getting worse every day. I heard from the tortolla that another caravan they trade with never showed up…” she muttered in a worried tone.

“That could be a lot of things Meerah. It could be a basilisk ambush, or an outbreak of sandflea fever, or maybe one of their wagons broke a wheel.” he replied dismissively.

From inside the caravan wagon came an annoyed growl, “OR it could be the Faithless Kiro.” it replied.

Kiro rolled his eyes, “Yes yes Nisha, it could be the Faithless… but I don’t think so. They’re going on about their loa all the time, what would they want with us? We’re just some harmless traders. More trouble than we’re worth to them.” he replied. “We just gotta keep our heads down and do our business quietly, we’ll be fine.”

The caravan flaps flew open at this as an annoyed female stuck her head out, the vulpera woman covered in deep scarlet fur, “And what about when we’re NOT fine? Huh? These snakes grow more and more bold every damn day. I say at the next moot we gather up the other caravans and sort them out before they can come after us!” she snapped, her ears folded back and her tail thrashing.

Kiro sighed, “Its not that simple Nisha, there’s a lot more Faithless than there are vulpera. We’d lose, badly. We need to stay out of their way and let the Sethrak sort it out among themselves. Its not our problem.”

“Well sooner or later its going to BE our problem!” she snarled, the two of them beginning to argue as Meerah just rolled her eyes and clicked the reins on her alpalca, guiding them back to the burrow that her people called home.

In the next cart over three younger vulpera sat, their large ears flicking as they picked up the angry voices of the caravan leader and the hotheaded woman.

“Ugh, there they go again…” sighed one of them, flopping back onto the floor of the caravan, “Kiro ‘n Nisha always argue anymore…” he huffs, flicking his tail irritably.

“Yeah, I know Rudo…” said another, sitting on the floor idly tossing a ball back and forth between her paws, “But what can we do about it? We’re just kits, they won’t listen to us. Just let ‘em argue and go play when we get back to the burrows.” she replied. “What do you think Sekhi?” she asked, turning to their companion.

The two were young, barely four summers old, but Sekhi, the third one, was almost thirteen herself. She was supposed to be watching the two, but instead was mostly playing with a flute she’d gotten as a gift for her last namesday. “H-huh? Oh sorry Torra, I wasn’t listenin'…” she replied, blushing.

Rudo and Torra were from the same litter, both of them having pale brown fur, but Sekhi’s hide was a yellowish hue, more akin to the deserts near the edges of Vol’dun herself. While the other two wore just shorts (and a chestwrap for Torra) Sekhi wore a bright red wrap and a long colorful skirt she’d bartered off a goblin merchant that had docked off the coast of Vol’dun some months back, along with a red silken headscarf trimmed with gold.

“Sekhiiiiiii… we was talkin’ about how Kiro ‘n Nisha just fight ‘n growl ‘n stuffs now…” said Rudo, sitting up and frowning at her.

“Oh, right yeah… guess they do…” she looked over in the direction of the caravan, hearing Kiro and Nisha’s raised voices again, sighing. “I dunno, those two are just… bleh… I guess… I mean, I kinda get where Kiro is comin' from. We only gots th' one healer, him, 'n if we did go up against th' Faithless ‘n something happened to him or if too many of us got hurt 'n he couldn’t heal us all… I mean he used to be really strong when he was younger, or at least my ma used to say, but he’s kinda getting on now 'n his powers aren’t as good anymore I think? I dunno, da said something like that…” she began, then went on for several minutes as the two kits shared a look. Sekhi was easily distracted but get her to think about something and that was all you’d hear about until the sun set and rose again.

“So how’d you miss them yellin’? I mean what were ya listening to?” asked Torra, cocking her head slightly and flicking one of her ears.

Sekhi blinked, then frowned and turned her flute over and over in her hands, “I… dunno… I keep thinking I hear somethin'… lately its like… I’ll hear somethin' just over the next dune.” she muttered, “Its… prolly nothin’. It just… sounds kinda like music, like a song I remember hearin’ once but forgot… I dunno.” she shrugged, feeling awkward. She’d mentioned it to her parents, but they told her it was probably just her imagination.

The two kits shrugged, “Well, ya like music. Maybe you’ll be our caravan’s next musician?” suggested Torra with a smile.

Sekhi smiled a bit, “I dunno, I mean all I really know how to play is th' flute… 'n instruments are hard to get out here in Vol’dun… I’d like that though…” she replied, then went back to examining her flute as the two kits sighed. When she got that expression that was all they’d get out of her for a bit. They wondered why Sekhi got put in charge of them, they could have run all the way to Akunda’s Temple and back before she’d notice.

As they did however Sekhi glanced behind them and out of the caravan… she’d swear she just heard something again, the faint sound of a metal drum, and a whisper of song from a voice she remembered as if hearing it in a dream.

The Vulpera Burrows, Two nights later…

Sekhi sat by the campfire, humming softly to herself. It was her namesday today, her parents having gotten her something they’d bargained off a trader who’d passed by on the way south. A small scroll of flute music, though neither one of them had known how to read it. Sekhi didn’t either, but she was hoping she could find someone to teach her. She mostly improvised on her flute.

It was late and most of the other members of the caravan were asleep, save for the guards who kept watch at night… but Sekhi couldn’t sleep. She kept hearing those odd sounds… and tonight they were even louder.

Sekhi folded her ears as she gazed into the campfire, listening to the faint splash of water from their well that led down into an underground river, the whistling of the wind in the dunes, and felt the soft sand under her footpaws. “What is that sound though…” she muttered under her breath, “Its so familiar… but what is it?” she sighed, picking up a twig and tossing it onto the flames.

As she did however, a faint whisper reached her ears, and the vulpera girl suddenly sat bolt upright.

… can… hear us… can you…

Sekhi shivered, her tail fluffing out as she looked around, wide eyed. That sounded like it came from right behind her, but nobody was there! “R-rudo? Is that you playin' a trick? Knock it off or Imma tell your ma!” she said, but the flap to Rudo’s cave was closed and no light was coming from inside it… he must’ve been asleep… right? All she could hear was the wind and the crackle of flames, the guards at the edges of the burrows too far away to be heard.

Sekhi shook her head, her ears flapping around. “Sheesh, maybe I should go to bed… prolly half asleep ‘n dreaming already…” she muttered, sitting back down on the carpet next to the flames…

… yet, she didn’t… the vulpera instead watching the flames dance as the night drew ever on, the moon shining down over Vol’dun from above… and after a bit longer she felt an odd sensation creeping over her… not sleep, but more like a waking sleep… like she was only half there in her body…

Her eyes slipped half lidded as she watched the flames… yet, she almost thought she could hear something in the crackle, a faint sound akin to a fiddle she’d heard played at a moot once several years prior… “Whats… goin' on…” she murmured, watching the flames, mesmerized.

… hear us… can you… listen… hear us…

She blinked, the voices sounding closer now… but they didn’t sound threatening, more like they wanted to be heard, they were desperate to be heard. “W-who are ya?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

The wind suddenly gusted through the burrows, but it sounded… odd… less like a howl of wind and more like a large flute itself, a whistling twisting sound that wormed its way into the vulpera’s ear.

She blinked again, feeling a strange pulsing sound from under her feet, the girl standing up as if in a daze… there was almost a beat to it, a tempo, a faint metallic thumping sound with each pulse.

… hear us… can you hear us…

Sekhi swayed on the spot, feeling lightheaded… sleepy, but oddly awake and aware as well… she could hear the water sloshing from the well nearby, the river running under the burrows… but it carried an odd thumping sound now, like a drum being beat continuously.

“… yes…” she whispered, her eyes still on the flames. She couldn’t pull them away if she tried. “I… hear ya… who are ya…” she asked.

… take your flute… join our chorus… play for us Sekhi…

She raised her flute without thinking, holding the mouthpiece just mere centimeters from her muzzle. “… how do ya know my name?” she asked.

… we know… we always knew… we knew the day you sang your birth-song to the world… join our chorus… play for us Sekhi…

“I… I dunno how… I just make it up…” she stammered.

… you will… play and the song will come to you, and from you, and within you…

Sekhi held the flute in place, her fur standing on end… then pressed the mouthpiece into place and put her fingers on the holes of the flute in a seemingly random order… took a breath… and began to play.

It came to her with each note, the girl somehow knowing precisely when to play, when to stop for breath, when to switch her fingers and where. It was a song she felt like she’d known all along but just needed a reminder. She kept going without thinking, her eyes wide as she realized she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to!

As she did the wind began to swirl through the burrows again, kicking up sand around her legs, and a gust caught her and made her spin on the spot as her skirt swished around her legs, yet Sekhi kept playing.

She stumbled close to the flames, but they seemed to rear away from her before she touched them, then swished up into a burst of light and energy almost as tall as she was, then seemed to stretch out and around her, twirling with the wind as if dancing to her song. She could feel their heat, but it didn’t burn her, and Sekhi kept playing!

She wasn’t stumbling anymore, her legs seemed to move on their own, the ground pulsing in time with them under her footfalls, beating out a fast tempo as the wind and fire twirled and twined around her. Nearby the river grew louder underground, as if ready to burst its banks, and soon water splashed up to the edges of the well as if trying to reach her, but Sekhi kept playing!

Then, she heard the voices. So many filling her ears, raised in song! A sudden cacophony like she’d never heard before, singing in time with her flute! Hundreds? Thousands? She couldn’t count them all but she could hear each and every one distinctly. Vulpera yes, but also the deep rumbling voices of the tortolla, the soft hissing voices of sethrak, and even thickly accented troll voices, all joining in a song following her flute, repeating the same words over and over...

Hear us! Heed us! Listen to our song! Let our song guide you! We are the voice of Azeroth! We are the Song of the World! Hear us!

Sekhi was vaguely aware of voices around her, but she wasn’t able to focus on much else right now. Lights shone in caves nearby as sleepy vulpera peeked out wondering who was making such a racket at this hour only to stare in wonder at the sight before them.

Sekhi was in the middle of a swirl of fire and wind, sandy motes flying up around her feet as she played, the well beside her practically bursting with water now!

The earth beat in time with her tempo, the wind and fire danced with her, and the water reached out to join the chorus.

Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water, and the singers, the Spirits of those who dwelled in the land of Zandalar.

Finally, slowly, almost too slowly for her suddenly very tired limbs, the voices grew dimmer, then the girl stumbled to a halt and practically wrenched the flute free from her mouth, her tail swishing behind her. She felt like a bolt of lighting had shot through her whole body, yet… it didn’t hurt. She felt ALIVE, as if she’d only been dreaming half her life.

As the voices faded out, they whispered once more to her in a lyrical voice.

Heed us… hear us… you are our singer, our songstress… carry our voice to those who cannot hear and we shall guide you and keep you safe… carry our song, shaman!

“… shaman.” said Kiro’s voice, the caravan leader chuckling softly. “It seems now we have two.” he nodded, his muzzle breaking into a grin. “I was wondering why I couldn’t hear as much anymore, it seems they were paying attention to someone else.” It wasn’t just Kiro there, it seemed like most every vulpera in the burrows was awake now!

Sekhi blinked slowly, “What… me? But… I’m barely past bein' a kit! A shaman?!” she stammered.

“Indeed.” nodded Kiro, walking towards her. “The elements spoke to you just now, didn’t they?”

She looked down at her flute in her hands, “… not spoke no… they… they sang. It sounded like…” she blinked, her ears pricking up as she realized she could still hear something. A faint metallic tempo with a whistling flute like accompaniment, “Like that! Kiro, you’re a shaman, can’t ya hear that?!” she asked, padding quickly over to the elder vulpera.

Kiro cocked his head, “… just wind to me.” he chuckled, “It sounds different to every shaman though. Maybe I’m not the one they need to speak to right now.” he added, “What does it sound like?” he asked curiously.

“Its… music… like…” she suddenly fell to all fours and pressed her ear to the ground, “… like… a metal drum, or some sorta metal somethin'… I can hear it all over under us!” she said in a shocked voice, then sat up and shook the sand out of her ear, "T-th' wind! It ain't wind, it’s a flute! ... or somethin' like a flute! I…”

Sekhi looked at the campfire, scrambling so close to it that Kiro gave a yip of alarm and pulled her back before she could burn her facefur right off! “Th' flames! Its…” her ears twitched, “Some sort of… ‘bruuuum’ sound, I dunno, something like… that guitar thingy that they were playin' at th' last moot! 'n…” she scrambled over to the well and Kiro managed to grab her in time to keep her from diving right over the edge as she stuck her head in up past her shoulders. “Drums! It sounds like drums! I hear drums! It don't just sound like drums, it IS drums!” she yipped again, her tail flailing behind her.

“Alright ALRIGHT!” gasped the older vulpera, pulling her out of the well with a sudden grunt, “Just… take a breath and calm down Sekhi… a shaman’s first encounter with the elements is always a bit… well… much. Just… relax.”

Sekhi couldn’t though, her eyes were wide as her ears twitched every which way, “I… its all music, its like I spent my first thirteen summers deaf!” she gasped in wonder, “Its like Azeroth is singin' to me!” she yipped, her eyes tearing up, the young vulpera unable to stop smiling now. “Its so beautiful Kiro! Is this what it’ll sound like all th' time now?!”

Kiro was at a loss however, “W-well, probably not all the time… I mean I’ve never heard of a shaman who heard the elements constantly… but… well… I never met a shaman who heard music either.” he admitted with a shrug.

As they discussed his, or rather Sekhi babbled on at her suddenly expanded world, two sets of footsteps drew close and an older pair of vulpera, a man and a woman with the same yellow-sandy fur as Sekhi stepped into the ring of firelight.

“Kiro… you’re saying our girl is the caravan’s new shaman?” asked her father, looking at his excitedly jabbering daughter, the younger vulpera grinning ear to ear as she tried to listen to all the new sounds at once, her eyes still brimming with tears at how overwhelming it all was.

“I believe so Atu, seems pretty certain to me. I mean, she’s definitely hearing SOMEthing, and I could tell that was the elements she was working with a few moments back.” he replied.

At this her mother spoke up, “Um… as exciting as this is, is she going to be like this all the time now?” she asked with a slightly nervous grin.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry Risala. It was a bit of a rush for me too but it tends to wear off…”

“… n-now th' wind sounds like some kinda glass flute! Now some sorta metal one! I think I can hear somethin' else now! I… hotsandseverythin'justwentspinny…” she yipped, then her head rolled onto one shoulder as she fell fast asleep in Kiro’s grasp.

“… somewhat suddenly.” finished the caravan master with a faint chuckle.

In the fullness of time the Horde would come to Zandalar and, over many adventures, would save Vol’dun and all of the island from an ancient threat that long laid buried under the dunes. Following this the caravan would leave Vol’dun entirely for the city of Orgrimmar and Sekhi would begin her own travels under the Horde banner… but this was where it all began for the young shamaness, the first time she heard the Song of the World.

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[stephenjaymorrisblog]

Chicken Little Was Right!

The Sky is Falling!!

Stephen Jay Morris

7/23/22

©Scientific Morality

This is the apotheosis of superstition: Jesus walked on the water, but polar ice caps are not melting. When non-believers stand on their hind legs, pound on their chests, and yell so everybody can hear them, “Climate change is a lie!” – You don’t argue with them; you just leave them behind and let them drown in their stupidity. The human race can fight what will be a catastrophic future by shrinking its carbon footprint. Really, this does not have to be all gloom and doom. We can correct this human-made, ecological catastrophe-waiting-to-happen! But, what about the wrong-headed people who are mislead by oil magnates and the pastors in fundamentalist churches? Charles Darwin had this theory, “The mechanism of natural selection,” which, means, basically: Only the strong survive. The weaker die because of fear and ignorance. Thus, this parlays into the fate of Homo sapiens and the Earth.

This is not just about climate science or abortion. This is evolution of reason and logic. Like the polar ice caps, religion is slowly melting. The cry is as old as centuries past: reason over faith. I get personally embarrassed when I hear Evangelicals preach from the pulpit, “God will punish all sinners!” Yeah? When he does, will we then live happily ever after? Not really, some new shit will come around the corner. Like eternity, drama never ceases. After all, God gets bored and has to create more.

America’s founders were not all protestant Christians from Europe. There were many in the Christian sect known as “Deists.” Thomas Jefferson was a reformed Deist. Most of the forefathers were followers of Deism. The Deists believed that humans must not be dependent upon God; that Man must forge a path for himself. That is why they created the 13 colonies. They did not want this new world to be part of the Church of England or a satellite nation of the British Crown.

This problem of the Earth’s climate can be solved over a few decades. It will just take co-operation, commitment, and public concern. Arguing and debating about it is a dangerous waste of precious time. People who like to argue have never excelled in athletics or sex. Sinners are winners in bed or the back seat of a car. If the Evangelicals are so afraid of the White population diminishing, then they should permit their followers to freely engage in premarital sex. Only, to them, sex is solely about procreation. Gays call Cis people, “Breeders.” And it’s true!

One glaring feature I notice about all religious people is their immature thinking. Let’s consider Kay Ker. She is this Christian advocate who depicts Heaven as another Disney World. This Pollyanna, magical way of thinking is for little children. Adults must solve problems, not merely wish them away. Otherwise they find out, too late, that there is no life after death; just like there was no life before birth. How do I know? I don’t. But in case there isn’t an afterlife, I’m going to do my best to make sure this life is fulfilling!

Years ago I made up this quote, “There is no God to help you, nor a Devil that will hurt you.”

Some people think it’s all about them. They are so-called advocates for “Individualism.” What they don’t know is that it takes a collective to defend one’s individual liberty. So much for that argument. However, it’s going take a massive, collective effort to solve this crisis. The reason some American people are not on board with the effort is because they suffer from narcissism. You know? The “Fuck you, me first!” crowd. They don’t care two cents about what may happen to the Earth after they die. They merely want to ravish and plunder all that it has to offer and use it for their selfish pleasure! Those people should be phased out of the community of Humanity. Religious nuts, mentally ill people, and Ayn Rand’s Objectivists are not helping our multiverse.

I am an Anti-Authoritarian Leftist. I believe in freedom for all, not just for some. But, sometimes—because of some people’s intransigence and stupidity—I wish I was a dictator. I wish I could just wave a magic wand and brainwash them.

At any rate, I will do all I can to fight this climate crisis. In the meantime—never mind.

[greenbagjosh]

3 June 2002 - the horse show in Jerez and climb up to Carmona

Good morning!  Buenos Dias!

There is unfortunately not much that I remembered between the 3rd and 5th of June 2002, so today's story may cover all three days.

On Monday the 3rd June 2002, my father had an appointment about 10 AM at the NAVSTA base.  We had to pick him up about 3 PM at the southeast entrance of the US Navy base NAVSTA, at Cintura de Fuentebravia and Calle de la Guayaba.  That was the entrance that I even remember back in 1977, walking right out of the base - not knowing any better at age 5, and of course my parents being very consternated, but security there has tightened so much since then.  

That morning we woke up at 7 AM, had breakfast and we took my father to the NAVSTA base checkpoint at the east side, just off A-491.  At the checkpoint, even though everyone had their passports, only my father was allowed in.  We would pick him up from the same entry port about 3 PM.

I had some shopping to do at the Carrefour which was located at Centro Comercial El Paseo.  I bought some extra rolls of 35 mm film and batteries for my camera.  I cannot remember what else I would have bought there.  

Unfortunately that particular evening I cannot remember where we ate supper, I think it may have been in Rota, just southwest of NAVSTA.  

Tuesday the 4th June 2002 we woke up, had breakfast and checked out of the hotel.  We had tickets to the 11 AM performance at the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art.  It is next door to the Bodegas Sandeman sherry production.  The Equestrian art is basically a show of synchronizing up to ten equestrians in a row and marching in an orderly pattern.  Sometimes the horses will use only their hind legs upon direction of the human, and it's kind of a contest to see how long the horse will walk only on their hind legs.  The human riders wear pointy black hats, grey blazers with big black buttons, and black trousers.  In attendance I think there were about five hundred people.  And maybe 100 liters of Sandeman sherry sold that day, if not more.  

We stopped by the Bodegas Sandeman before returning to the car, and I drove along the Duque de Abrames to the A4 and went northbound, past the airport "XRY", where the A4 joined the AP-4 toll road.  I drove along the AP-4, stopping once to use the "aseos" and another time to pay the 5 Euro toll at Las Cabezas de San Juan.  I drove about 120 km/h on the AP-4 until Dos Hermanas, and then I had to take the A-398 to Carmona, where we would spend the night at our last Parador hotel with half-pension.  Carmona is similar to Arcos de la Frontera.  Its city center is on a hill, and those who have never been there before will have some difficulty driving uphill.  I drove to the Parador at Puerta de Marchena.  From there, that was the last time I had driven in Europe until April 2005.

We checked into the Parador, put our luggage in the rooms and then we walked into town for some sightseeing.  Supper would not be ready until past 8 PM.  We saw the Alcázar de la Puerta de Sevilla, Ermita de San Antón, and Plaza Blas Infante.  Some of the buildings along the way looked like the white paint had faded and the grey was poking out.  Going back to the hotel, the view towards Puente Romano and farther east, was very nice.  It had rained earlier that day but it stopped.

By the time 8 PM came around, we went back to the hotel to have supper.  We had the fixed-price menu as part of our half-pension rate.  Of course this included a bowl of gazpacho and diced vegetables.  And I could not say no to the iberian ham, steak or tocino de cielo.  We went to bed around 10 PM.  We would have to catch a plane about 11 AM for Madrid T3 and bring the car back to the airport.

I hope you will join me for tomorrow's adventure.  Please bear in mind that there are a maximum of three stories left and I will turn 30 years old on Friday the 6th June 2002.  

Hasta manana y buenas noches!

[volinare]

Well, I Didn't Know That Would Happen

Sarah turned of the T.V. Another terrible start to a terrible day. Today, she could tell, would be extra terrible, because she could predict the future. All she had to do was think of a bunch of scenarios, and then she would know that none of those would happen. Because nothing ever happens how you think it will. Nothing.

At school, she decided to hit a kid on the head with a toy bat. He cried. She tried to pretend she was sorry, and it sorta worked. But she wasn't able to fake cry so adults could always tell. She was looking forward to when she got old enough that crying would not be necessary for an apology. Adults don't cry. Well, sometimes but not when theyre sorry. They cry when it hurts. Kids cry all the time. for no reason. Thats why Sarah hated being a kid. And it couldn't have actually hurt. It was just a toy, thin, hollow plastic.

The dog was at the window. He did that sometimes, when he didnt want to come inside, but wanted to check to make sure everything was okay. Hed get of his hind legs and lay his big paws on the window, and wait until Sarah waved.

Sarah was not a fan of this game. Sarah was not a fan of the way her mother ruffled her hair and then called it a rats nest, Sarah was not a fan of her dad but she didnt know why, Sarah was not a fan of mushrooms, or apple juice, and Sarah was not a fan of the way the tile patterns in the bathroom didn't make flowers because the black hexagons were too close together, making the white hexagons over lap in a way that flower petals would not.

But she waved at the dog, because if she did not wave, he would not stop. He would bark and hit the glass in clumsy movements and it made her scared that it would break. So she waved.

The dog was so stupid. Sarah was stupid too, because she was a kid. She considered her self to be about as smart as the dog, but maybe in different ways. The dog too, did not go to school and learn things, he'd probably never even seen glass break.

She could change that.

So Sarah got up and went to the kitchen and got a glass. One from the back of the cabinet. Her mother wouldn't be home for a while. maybe she would pick up a few of the pieces and put them inside and say that she'd broken it while doing the dishes. She'd have to do the dishes, but that was alright and that's if anyone even noticed at all. Which was unlikely.

Sarah took the glass out into the back yard. The dog was rolling around in the dirt.

"You know. This is why no body lets you inside."

The dog paused, mid roll, and looked at her with relaxed eyes.

Sarah held up the glass infront of her, "glass." In the same voice she would say 'sit' or 'stay'. She tapped the glass three times tink tink tink.

Then she walked over to the window and tapped on it with one fingernail, it made a different sound. Duller. Like dud dud dud. Oh. Sarah felt a bit silly but carried on. "Glass," she said again.

She did it a few more times, then she set the glass down infront of the dog and went to find a rock.

He was sniffed it once, then tried to follow Sarah, but she had already found what she needed and turned back around. She waited until the dog had come up again. "Glass." She said, and then she hit it with a rock, and it cracked. She let the dog look, he seemed a bit worried. She hit it again and it broke into pieces.

The dog did not like this display of aggression, but was watching for Sarah's next move carefully.

Sarah got up and tapped on the window again, "Glass."

Then, for a final word, took a shard and poked the dog right on the arm. "Glass."

She pointed at the shard, then the window, then the shard. "Glass. Glass. Glass."

And so the dog was not surprised when the window broke just three days later and he was not surprised when it hurt, and he was not surprised when Sarah cried. He was surprised when she leaned forward and plucked a shard from his neck, and blood began to seep out like smooth maple syrup. Why had she done so? She must have know that would happen. Was it a punishment? He had done what she asked. And so the dog died as most dogs do, with many questions on his mind.