#please if you can ID the paws on the right let me know

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 44

Oilstripe’s whitecough and Mosskit’s greencough are gone, but Wildclaw catches greencough.

[Image ID: Mosskit and Oilstripe leave the medicine den in the back with the words - GREENCOUGH and - WHITECOUGH under them respectively. Wildclaw faces Fennelspot with the words + CONDITION: GREENCOUGH underneath her. Fennelspot says “StarClan, a whole season of disease…”]

It would have been nice if Fennelspot could end his day by saying “Ah, Oilstripe and Mosskit are symptom free, all I have to do is care for Burdockcreek and I can rest.” He even got Spike out of the den for a bit. But alas, StarClan had other plans for him.

“When the branches creak and the graves all quake,” Wildclaw sang at the top of her lungs as Rattlepelt led her into the medicine den, “spooks come out for a singing wake! Happy haunts materialize and begin to vocalize! Grim growling ghosts come out to socialize!” Wildclaw flung herself about as she sang, unbalanced. Her breathing was quick and her body shivered even as she seemed blissful in her odd dance. Fennelspot had been mixing some of Burdockcreek’s medicine into a small meal when the two mollies entered his den. He stopped mixing and stared at Wildclaw, quickly dreading the hours ahead.

“What is this?” Fennelspot groaned while Rattlepelt nudged Wildclaw toward a nest.

“I had to convince her she could help Rabbitjoy and I in a performance to get her out of her nest,” Rattlepelt said. “I think she has a fever.” Wildclaw sneezed mid-verse. Fennelspot stuck his nose in her ear.

“You’re right about that,” Fennelspot muttered. Wildclaw coughed and sputtered over her nest, spewing green gunk as she went. Fennelspot backed up. “StarClan, a whole season of disease… now Wildclaw has greencough too!” 

“Can I help?” Rattlepelt gulped as Fennelspot hurried to his stores.

“Try to convince her to eat dandelion leaves,” Fennelspot huffed, pointing his tail to the small stock of dried leaves amidst his wide collection. “I’ll need to make more black cherry tea than I expected. This is a severe fever, use all the leaves. We will make do.”

“Fennelspot!” Oilstripe hurried into the den and bumped into Rattlepelt. Rattlepelt dropped the dandelion leaves. Her paw smashed the delicate dry herbs into fragments.

“Oilstripe!” Fennelspot groaned. “We needed that!”

“Stars, I’m sorry,” Oilstripe gulped, her gaze touching on Wildclaw. “It was for her, right? Let me help, I’m sorry.”

“No, please,” Fennelspot groaned, blocking Oilstripe from his stores. “You just recovered from whitecough, I don’t need you catching greencough.”

“Oilstripe!” Wildclaw loopily cheered, tail rising. “Oilstripe. Oil, Oil… I just want to say… you are, by far, one of the most interesting cats I have ever met. I’m so jealous of you! Why can’t I see ghosts?” She rolled onto her side with a dramatic groan.

“Thanks?” Oilstripe chuckled. “Wait, no, I came in for a reason. Fennelspot, you asked me to keep an eye out for Shadowdrop’s spirit.” Fennelspot’s ears perked up. Rattlepelt paused next to Wildclaw who, despite her fevered haze, latched onto her brother’s name. 

“He’s here?” Fennelspot asked. 

“He’s in StarClan,” Oilstripe said with a nod. “I saw him a few minutes ago, watching his kits.”

“It’s been over a moon since he died, why is this the first time you’re seeing him?” Fennelspot asked, moving closer to his friend.

“He wouldn’t talk to me,” Oilstripe huffed. “I saw him, he saw me, he walked into the nursery, and when I looked inside, he was gone and Troutkit started questioning me about the ‘weird look’ on my face.”

“Told you he’d get to StarClan,” Wildclaw grumbled as Rattlepelt groomed her neck.

“I thought you should be the one to let Downstar know,” Oilstripe explained, tensing a bit at the leader’s name. “She’s… never been happy to hear about my sight.” Fennelspot hesitated. He still needed to make his batch of black cherry tea and find a different treatment for Wildclaw’s fever. He didn’t have time to talk to Downstar. And yet…

“You both wanted to help me?” he sighed, padding to the bundle of black cherry bark he kept close by in recent moons. “Then Rattlepelt, would you brew more black cherry tea for Wildclaw and Burdockcreek? After you get Wildclaw into the quarantine den, that is. We have it for a reason.” Rattlepelt nudged Wildclaw to her paws, despite the sick molly’s whining. “Oilstripe, I need aspen bark for Wildclaw’s fever. There are aspen trees near WheatClan’s border. Harvest the bark and get back to camp quickly. Is your father in with Downstar?”

“He’s with Burdockcreek,” Oilstripe said, inching out of the den. “I think Downstar’s with Weedfoot though! I’ll be back soon!” With that, Oilstripe ran out of camp. Rattlepelt escorted Wildclaw to the quarantine den. Fennelspot groomed his chest and prepared to give Downstar the news.

[Image ID: Fennelspot talks to Downstar, who is flanked by the spirits of Duskkit and Shadowdrop. Under Downstar, it says LEVEL UP! ADVENTUROUS -> WISE. Downstar says “There is no ‘getting better’, Fennelspot. I will always be like this. I have to learn to live with it.”]

Sure enough, Weedfoot and Downstar were both in the leader’s den, working through recent border patrol reports. Downstar noticed Fennelspot’s arrival first and paused mid-sentence, catching Weedfoot’s attention as well.

“Hello, Fennelspot,” Weedfoot purred. “We’re finishing up our discussion here, would you be able to wait a moment?”

“I just have something I need to tell Downstar,” Fennelspot explained. “I didn’t want to wait longer than need be.”

“Is it important?” Downstar asked. Fennelspot nodded softly, his nerves tickling his gut. “Well, go ahead and share the news, Fennel.” Fennelspot cleared his throat. 

“Shadowdrop has made it to StarClan,” Fennelspot said. “I… just received word.” Downstar and Weedfoot wouldn’t stop staring at Fennelspot. Part of him wanted to run away, but he waited as the weight of his announcement settled on Downstar’s bicolored fur.

“Six more lives to live,” Downstar muttered, “and I’ll see him again.” Weedfoot licked Downstar’s shoulder as the tortie leader bowed her head.

“I hope knowing he’s watching over you will help you get better,” Fennelspot said, bowing his head as well. Yet as he did so, the fur along his neck prickled. He looked up, and Downstar was glaring at him.

“Fennelspot, I need you to understand something,” Downstar grumbled. Weedfoot stepped back, feeling the raw energy rippling under Downstar’s fur. “I have been… I have not been my old self in almost two years. I can’t go back to being that molly no matter how much I learn. There is no ‘getting better’, Fennelspot. I will always be like this. I have to learn to live with it.”

“I’m sorry,” Fennelspot quickly stammered, “those were thoughtless words.”

“I’m not mad, Fennel,” Downstar groaned, shaking her head. “But… don’t treat what I have like you treat Burdockcreek’s greencough. It’s not something you can cure.” Fennelspot sunk into himself.

“Let’s get back to the border reports, Downstar,” Weedfoot muttered with a gentle touch to Downstar’s shoulder. Downstar nodded and Fennelspot carefully left the leader’s den.

The two of them could only do their best.

(Fennelspot: 101, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Wildclaw: 36, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Rattlepelt: 27, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)

(Oilstripe: 48, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)

(Weedfoot: 93, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Downstar: 103, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

Spike’s wound is no longer infected. She observes Clan dynamics with a knowing gaze.

[Image ID: Spike talks to Carnationspeckle, who says “Well, how do you want to spend your days?”. Underneath the brown tabby, it says LEVEL UP! SPIKE -> SPIKECRASH, - INFECTION. Lavenderpaw approaches, yowling “You’re staying?”. Underneath Lavenderpaw, it says LEVEL UP! BOLD -> PLAYFUL.]

---

Spike still couldn’t move much of her lower back, and she still needed help to move anywhere beyond the reach of her nest, but she was at least out of that stuffy den for a while. The snow covering camp made her shiver. The view from camp toward the ocean was unmatched, even though part of the coastline was blocked by the camp walls. Spike never had such a good view of the glimmering water from her home with her mother. 

In the deep shine of sunset, RippleClan was alive. Wildclaw sang through her fever as Rattlepelt led her to the quarantine den. Ripplepaw and Lavenderpaw sparred outside the apprentice’s den while Carnationspeckle enjoyed the sunset with Troutkit at her side. Mosskit and Tempestkit led their nervous sister out of the nursery to practice hunting stances. Parsley and James joked outside of the elder’s den about their old lives with humans, stories that sounded achingly familiar to Spike. In that moment, she felt more alive than she ever remembered feeling in that old shack with her mother and aunt.

“Someone looks happy!” Spike startled as Carnationspeckle suddenly appeared beside her. A bit of pain rippled down her back when her body shifted awkwardly in the snow, but she bit it down. She’d grown used to the stiffness and frustration of being unable to move without pain.

“What can I say?” Spike sighed. “This place… it’s nice. It’s peaceful.”

“Not a bad place to recover,” Carnationspeckle purred. Troutkit, who seemed to have doubled in size since Spike first met her, peered around her mother and studied Spike.

“Your back’s healing well,” Troutkit hummed. “I can’t smell the infection anymore.” Troutkit sniffed the stick supporting Spike’s broken spine.

“Fennelspot said my recovery is improving again,” Spike explained. 

“I’m going to be a cleric when I’m apprenticed next moon,” Troutkit explained, hesitating between her words. “I’ll try to help you walk again.”

“Thank you, Troutkit.” Spike couldn’t help but purr at the way Troutkit stood a bit taller when she talked about helping. Troutkit hid behind her whiskers at the compliment. 

“You’re really starting to fit into life in RippleClan,” Carnationspeckle chirped. “Have you thought about staying once you’re healed?” The few muscles Spike could move in her lower half tensed.

“I can’t,” Spike muttered, shaking her head before she could say something she regretted. “My mom needs me. She won’t do well on her own. I don’t know if my father has seen her since I left, she could be…” She stopped, remembering the presence of the young kit at Carnationspeckle’s side.

“But if you had the choice,” Carnationspeckle asked, tucking her paws under her, “would you want to stay?”

“What’s the point of daydreaming if I can’t stay here forever?” Spike groaned.

“What if you asked your mom if you could stay?” Troutkit suggested. She copied how her mother sat, casting insecure glances at Spike as she talked. “If she loves you, she’d want you to be happy. You can always visit her!”

“My mother isn’t like your mothers, Troutkit,” Spike sighed. “She… well, she’s sick. She has been for a long time. She doesn’t see the world like we do, and that can get her hurt. She needs someone to look after her.”

“But don’t you deserve to be happy?” Troutkit asked. “Wouldn’t she want you to be happy?” Spike laid her head in the snow. Her deep sigh collected around her in a soft fog. It felt selfish, but didn’t she say something similar to Cinderella moons back, when her family was whole and Cinderella felt guilty for speaking to her Clan cat friend when she could be hunting?

“If I were to join,” Spike said hesitantly, “would I take one of the roles you talk about so much? What would I do with myself?”

“Well, how do you want to spend your days?” Carnationspeckle asked. Spike thought about it for a few minutes, letting the happy chatter of the Clan calm her nerves.

“I’ve spent a lot of my life helping my mother battle her demons,” Spike eventually said, pushing herself up. “I think I’m better at that than I ever was helping Cinderella in the hunt. Isn’t Palepaw training to help others in that way?” 

“She’s going to be the Clan’s first mediator,” Carnationspeckle purred.

“Then I’d feel less selfish if I was helping others,” Spike said with a bit more confidence.

“You’re staying?” Lavenderpaw scrambled away from his brother and bounded up to Spike and Carnationspeckle. “You’re joining RippleClan?”

“I think I am,” Spike purred. Lavenderpaw laughed, running and dancing around Spike. Carnationspeckle and Troutkit both giggled at Lavenderpaw’s antics.

“You should take a Clan name!” Lavenderpaw gasped. “Something like… Spikestrike! No, no, I have something better. Spikecrash!”

“That sounds so violent,” Carnationspeckle chuckled.

“It sounds powerful,” Lavenderpaw corrected her. “You should ask Downstar to name you Spikecrash!”

“Spikecrash…” the brown tabby hummed. “I like that name.”

(Spikecrash: 19, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Carnationspeckle: 46, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Troutkit: 5, female, kit, insecure, morbid curiosity)

(Lavenderpaw: 10, male, warrior apprentice, bold, loves to sing)

As Weedfoot leads a patrol with Clammask, Oilstripe, and Ripplepaw, an AshClan apprentice catches them by the border and begs to join RippleClan.

[Image ID: Weedfoot, Clammask, Oilstripe, and Ripplepaw face a silvery-pink apprentice with white spots and green eyes. Under her, it says NEW PLAYER: ELMPAW, 11, FEMALE, CHARISMATIC, CAREFUL LISTENER.]

---

The patrol to find Daphne, Spikecrash’s mother, was shockingly uneventful. Weedfoot took Clammask, Oilstripe, and Ripplepaw out the morning after Spikecrash asked the Clan to inform her mother of her new life. It didn’t take long to find where she had once lived with her mother, although no cat matching Daphne’s brown description lived in the abandoned human den on the edge of a vast field of wheat. A passing barn cat told the patrol Daphne had been scooped up by the humans who lived beyond the wheat field, so Weedfoot asked them to pass on their message and directed the patrol back to RippleClan territory.

Of course, there was still plenty of time left for the patrol to check some of the other borders of the Clan. Sure, the weather was cold and the snow tickled, but there was an energy to the patrol that day that no one wanted to destroy.

“When it gets warmer,” Ripplepaw promised, “I want to show the cats in LynxClan how we turn ocean water into drinking water. They’ll be so envious of us!”

“Alright, we don’t want to brag all the time,” Oilstripe laughed, playfully nudging her apprentice. “Just tell me how it works. I want to see if you actually understand it.”

“I’ve never had a head for science, personally,” Clammask chuckled as she and Weedfoot walked behind the excited mentor/apprentice pair. “I’m glad I don’t have to teach any of my apprentices how plants grow or how the stars move.”

“That’s why you’re a caretaker and we’re historians,” Weedfoot purred into Clammask’s ear. “Don’t tell Ripplepaw I’ve said this, or she’ll tell her brothers and make them jealous, but I’m rather proud the kit I named after this Clan is the one who decided to be a historian like me.”

“Do you think your kits have lived up to their namesakes so far?” 

“I can’t help but see a more mature version of the first Wasppaw in my son. The other three are quite different from the cats I knew though.”

“I could only imagine how Puddlespeckle might have felt about Puddlepaw. It would have been funny to see.” Weedfoot laughed alongside Clammask as Ripplepaw finished her surprise quiz.

“Ah, and here’s the AshClan border,” Oilstripe purred as the patrol approached the ever-familiar territory they once fought against. “If we fought AshClan back in the day with the size of our Clan now, we would have had a much easier time beating them.”

“I think another border patrol already beat us here,” Ripplepaw pointed out, scenting the air. “Our scent is fresh.”

“That just means less for us to do,” Weedfoo purred, stretching her hind legs. “It’s been wonderful walking with all of you, but I think we should head home and curl up around a fire before our paws get too cold.”

“Deputy Weedfoot?” A soft voice danced over the AshClan border. Everyone’s ears stood tall. Weedfoot took the lead and scanned AshClan’s heavy trees,

“Show yourself, please,” Weedfoot huffed at nothing. A chunk of snow fell from the trees. A long-furred, silvery molly jumped from the upper branches and landed squarely in front of Weedfoot. Oilstripe and Clammask took defensive poses beside their deputy. The newcomer shook loose snow off her thick pelt. She locked eyes with Weedfoot and bowed low and long in a way only an AshClan cat ever would.

“Deputy Weedfoot,” the young molly gulped, head still low, “do you know who I am?” It was hard for Weedfoot not to know. She shared her father’s smokey fur.

“Elmpaw, am I right?” Ripplepaw chirped. “You’re one of the caretaker apprentices in AshClan.”

“And Eelgrowl’s daughter,” Weedfoot said quietly. Oilstripe moved closer to Weedfoot at the mention of the tom’s name. Ripplepaw shifted back, her cheerful expression slightly strained.

“He’s Eelstar now, ma’am,” Elmpaw explained, daring to look up.

“Autumnstar’s dead?” Clammask snapped.

“For two days now, ma’am,” Elmpaw muttered. 

Weedfoot couldn’t get over Elmpaw’s news. Eelstar? The tom who murdered Weedfoot’s mate had finally become leader of AshClan? Weedfoot had prayed he would retire or pass on before Autumnstar. But now… what was Weedfoot supposed to do about him? How could she ever hope to work with him when he…

“Where’s your mentor?” Oilstripe asked.

“I snuck away,” Elmpaw said. She gave herself a few good licks, smoothing out her fluffy fur, and said in as respectful a voice as she could muster, “Deputy Weedfoot, I’ve grown up with stories of RippleClan’s open acceptance of loners and kittypets and all sorts of cats. I ask that you allow me sanctuary in RippleClan. I cannot live under Father’s leadership, ma’am. I’ll be a great caretaker for RippleClan, so please… take me back to your camp.” Weedfoot kept staring. She still hadn’t fully processed Eelstar’s ascension.

“You want to leave your Clan when your father has just become leader?” Clammask huffed. “Why would you do that? Knowing your Clan’s culture, you’d be in a position of honor.”

“I don’t want a position of honor, ma’am,” Elmpaw groaned. “I don’t want all the expectations that come with being the leader’s daughter! I’m not a leaderly molly. I could barely handle the responsibilities of being a deputy’s daughter.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Clammask sighed, “but I don’t think we can in good conscience take an apprentice—”

“You can finish your training under Downstar,” Weedfoot finally said. She walked to the edge of the border and touched noses with Elmpaw. “I’m certain she’ll agree to let you join us. If you don’t want to live in AshClan’s culture, RippleClan is a safe place for you.” Elmpaw purred deeply. Her green eyes glittered in the shimmer of sunhigh. She pounced over the border and bowed once more to Weedfoot.

“We don’t bow in RippleClan, to start,” Oilstripe laughed. Elmpaw quickly stood, brushing off her AshClan manners with a strained chuckle.

“Weedfoot…” Clammask muttered, but this time, Ripplepaw interrupted her.

“We need to start our relationship with Eelstar on the right paw and show him he can’t do what Autumnstar used to do,” Ripplepaw declared, rubbing against Elmpaw. “What better way to do that than by stealing his daughter right under his nose?”

“What better way indeed,” Weedfoot muttered. 

I hope you’d approve of this, Paleshade.

(Weedfoot: 93, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Ripplepaw: 10, female, historian apprentice, charismatic, avid play-fighter, splashes in puddles)

(Oilstripe: 48, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)

(Clammask: 38, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Elmpaw: 11, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, careful listener)

[kermit-the-fox]

Learning to ID tracks

Pretty sure the one on the left is a roe deer, I see them often. I have never seen the ones on the right. Maybe a porcupine?

My dog had a blast running in the smelly stream and I got the opportunity to improve my tracking skills.

If you have any suggestions about learning the secrets of the paws, please DM me!

iNaturalist links: roe deer | mystery critter

[barry-j-blupjeans]

Oh we have to do Taakitz and 7! Up to you who the cat initially belongs to. :3

7. My cat um. Is in love with you? I know you only came over for that project that one time, but literally since then he has been wailing at the door and will only respond to intense bribery. Please I cannot afford that many treats, what if we got into a fake relationship. For my cat. 

--

Kravitz's phone buzzed a few times in quick succession and he brought his cello to a screeching halt (quite literally since the noise had started him). It buzzed again as Kravitz set his cello aside and unlocked the phone. His heart did a little dance at the notification that popped up.

Text from Taco (?) - Advanced Magic Studies at 7:35 PM: Kravitz weird thought but hear me out-

Video sent from Taco (?) - Advanced Magic Studies at 7:36 PM

watch this.

Kravitz clicked the video and it popped up in a larger screen. Taako's cat- an orange tabby with little black paws- paced in front of what Kravitz recognized as Taako's front door. He seemed alert, almost frantic, as someone opened the door from the outside and peeked in. It was Barry. Upon seeing that, the cat let out a loud, distressed wail and skittered away from the door.

The camera followed the cat through Taako's apartment, with Taako giggling a little behind the camera. After doing a little lap around the living room, it hopped up on the sofa and peeked over the top of it. The camera panned back to Barry, who had paused in the doorway, and the cat let out another horribly defeated sound.

Kravitz texted back, Traffic Cone really doesn't like Barry, huh?

Text from Taco (?) - Advanced Magic Studies at 7:38 PM: it's not just Barry it's literally everyone he won't respond to me unless I've got like, a whole bag of catnip with me he's addicted to catnip krav I've only got so much

Kravitz sent, he seemed fine when I was there a few days ago?? Maybe try the vet?

There was no immediate response. Kravitz worried for a second he had said the wrong thing. Maybe Traffic Cone hated the vet. Maybe Taako hated the vet, who was to say?

But then his phone started ringing. The caller ID showed it was Taako. Kravitz picked it up.

"Listen," Taako said at once. "Just- I have like, a theory. So hear me out."

"I'm listening," Kravitz said.

"So I think Traffic Cone is like, in love with you," Taako said, which is not what Kravitz had expected at all. "I know you've only met him literally once, but you know what he was like when you were here and he's literally been doing this since he left. The only time he's away from the door is when he sees someone who's not you come through it. Or if I give him treats."

Traffic Cone had been very attached to Kravitz when he had visited to work on the project Taako and he were assigned. Kravitz had never met him prior, but all of Taako's descriptions had made him out to be incredibly aloof and a little chaotic. And while Traffy had definitely fit the chaotic description, he had placed himself directly into Kravitz's lap and stayed there until Taako had to pry him off for Kravitz to leave.

"Okay," Kravitz said, because, yeah, sure, fuck it. "What're you- I mean, what am I supposed to do about that? Like, do you wanna-"

"What if," Taako interrupted, "we started dating."

"Huh."

"For the cat," Taako said. "Obviously- obviously for the cat. Like, fake dating. So you can come over more and I can move the litter box back to where it was instead of right next to my fucking front door and then it'll be fine."

"I, uh," Kravitz said, suddenly feeling a little flustered. Was it hot in here? It felt hot in here. Maybe he had cello'd harder than he usually did.

"I can't keep feeding him this many treats, Krav," Taako said. "I'm not made of money. I'm made of instant noodles and comedy books I read in fourth grade."

"I'd- I'd love to date you, Taako," Kravitz said. And then, "shit. Fake date you. For Traffic Cone."

"For Traffic Cone," Taako agreed, sounding a little breathless. "That'd- that'd work. Do you wanna- I mean, if you're not busy, you can come over to like, hang out. Or do the project. School stuff. Y'know?"

"I think I can make that work," Kravitz said, already on his way to pack up his cello. "I'll see you in, uh, thirty minutes? Wait, do you want food? Wendy's? I feel like eating Wendy's."

"I can be down for Wendy's," Taako said. In the background, Traffic Cone whined loudly. "Throw in some chicken nuggets and you've got yourself a deal."

"Done," Kravitz said. "Be there in- in forty then. For our... hang out. Thing. For your cat."

"For my cat," Taako said. "See you then, babe."

"See you."

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Now that the comic is up, I can show off this thing! Glamrock Freddy but trans femme! Her name is Francine :D

[Image ID:

An image of Francine from the bottom of the chest up drawn in a cartoony style. She’s turned to the left and has a big smile on her face. She has her left paw raised while her right paw holds a transgender flag that flutters behind her. She looks like Freddy did but instead of the red and blue markings, she now has a pink and yellow heart over her left eye, a small yellow heart at the corner of her right eye with a small pink heart on the space above the same eye. The’res a pink and yellow heart across her chest instead of a lightning bolt, pink and yellow stripes on her chin and she now has dark pink claws and shoulder pads. There is a yellow and white polka dot bow tied around her right wrist and a darker yellow, fingerless glove with a white square decorated with hearts on it on her left paw. She also has a blue bracelet with pink and white spikes on her left wrist and two visible piercings. One of a round trans flag and the other of a curved pink star with a yellow spot in the centre, with both being on the left ear.

She’s positioned over a large yellow, pink and blue star which is layered on top of a purple background covered in various stars of different shapes and colours that are a little more faded and less prominent than the bigger one in the centre.

End ID]

I’m still learning how to do image descriptions. If I’ve made a mistake or you want to tell me how to improve it, please let me know and I’ll do my best to do so.

[newhetaliafan]

Date With A Stranger

Hahaha I finally decided to finish an Italiet fanfic I started a while ago. The ending was definitely rushed but still it's FINISHED! It's a human AU where they go on a first date but don't know each other.

Thank you writing problems Tumblr posts for somehow giving me the motivation to finish this

Tolys could not remember why he had agreed to go on a dinner date with someone he didn't know. Maybe it had been to get Feliks to shut up about his loveless love life. Or maybe it had been to prove to Raivis that he could score a date. Or maybe he had agreed, simply out of boredom. Whatever the reason was, Tolys had agreed to go on a date with a fucking stranger, and he couldn't back out now. Well he could, but that would be a douchebag move, and he didn't feel like being a douchebag. Unless this stranger was one of course, but the stranger looked nice. Very nice.

"I still can't believe I got someone so pretty to agree to go on a date with me." The redhead said. The stranger really was nice. Too nice. Tolys blushed and wracked his brain for something to say.

"I didn't have much else to do." Good job not being a douchebag, Tolys. The stranger laughed at that, luckily.

"Good to know I'm not taking away your time. You look like someone who works a lot." Tolys raised an eyebrow. The stranger waved his hands.

"I mean that in a good way! I can definitely see you're tired, but you're still beautiful! It just shows you're a hard worker!" He insisted.

"Alright what do you want? You're complimenting me a lot, and you barely know me." Tolys said, trying to cover up his bubbling anxiety. This guy looked good and sounded nice, but Tolys knew better than to immediately trust that. He really shouldn't have agreed to go on a date with a stranger.

"Well that's just it. I want to get to know you. I see you walk your dog, and sometimes I see you reading in the library, and I've always wondered about you. So tell me what else do you do?" The stranger asked.

"Apparently I forget to ask for people's names. Let me fix that. What's your name?" Tolys questioned. The stranger laughed some more. Then he replied,

"My name is Feliciano. But please call me Feli." Tolys nodded, waiting for Feliciano to ask him his name. The man just smiled at him. It was a nice smile. Jeez Tolys had just learned his date's name, and he was already finding him attractive. It was too quick for that. When Feli didn't ask, Tolys decided he didn't need that knowledge.

"So Feli, what is you do? I'd like to know about you before I talk about myself." He explained. The redhead in front of him waved his hand nonchalantly.

"That's fair. Well I'm Italian, so naturally I LOVE pasta!" He declared. Tolys snorted at that.

"I also do love pizza and gelato! What other Italian stereotypes are there? I love painting and singing! Though my voice isn't the best, it's still fun! I also love cats, but don't worry, I love dogs too! You're dog is very cute, I've always wanted to give him treats or her!"

"Her." Tolys confirmed. He could tell this Italian loved to ramble. While annoying it was also kind of endearing and dare he think it, cute.

"Her. Id love to give her some doggie treats, but all I have are kitty ones! I think I could find some at the store, but I don't know which kind she would like!"

"Pupperoni is her favorite." Tolys chuckled.

"Pupperoni what a clever name! Only the best for the cutest dog ever, right?"

"Right," Tolys agreed. His lips curved upward. This guy might have just been trying to butter him up, but it was nice to hear his dog being called the cutest dog ever. She deserved the title.

"You know what I think I should do! I should get her one of those sweaters with the paw prints on it. That would be so so cute!" Tolys nodded, agreeing once again.

"Or maybe-" It was strange for Tolys to get so invested in something as simple as dog sweaters. Or maybe it wasn't considering his love for dogs. But it definitely was strange how much he enjoyed hearing the Italian talk. Sure he was way too energetic, but Tolys could admire that. He also found himself admiring the other man's passion and creativity. Tolys wished he could have more of that in his life. When an out of breath waiter apologized for the long wait, Tolys felt annoyed. Not for the long wait, but for the interruption. Things really had become strange.

"Sorry this place is usually pretty busy." apologized the Italian.

"It's alright. Now how about you tell me a bit about your cat?" suggested Tolys. His date's eyes brightened as he went into a rant about how Pookie was fat and lazy and super cute. Tolys twirled his hair a bit enjoying the rant. He felt his stomach swirl, and it wasn't out of hunger.

When the two finally got their food, Feli endlessly complimented it. He savored his bites and made sure Tolys was enjoying his food too. Tolys did really enjoy it. Feli had chosen a great restaurant for them to eat at. Even after their plates were visible again, Tolys kept Feli talking. He would offer up his thoughts and opinions which Feli would easily add on to. Tolys liked how freely the man could talk. It was a change he could welcome.

"So would you like to go on another date? I know another really great restaurant." Feli said, cheerfully. Tolys believed him. After all he had chosen this one. Tolys took a moment to "think". Of course he was going to say yes, but he couldn't show that right away. Feli could still be tricking him in some grand plan, but Tolys didn't feel that was the case. Even if his gut said it was alright, he still wouldn't allow himself to be really positive or eager...yet. His nerves wouldn't allow it.

"I think another date would be nice." He answered. Feli smiled so brightly and oh god was he cute.

"Thanks for joining me this evening, bello." He said, sweetly. Tolys blushed at the name. Then it reminded him of something. He took a deep breath then said,

"Tolys. My name is Tolys." Somehow Feli looked even happier than he had the whole date. It made Tolys' heart soar.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 117

The Hounds of Baskerville

"The Hounds of Baskerville"

Not me almost forgetting Sherlock gets purple for The ShirtTM instead of blue for The ScarfTM

I...forget this guys name (character and actor) because he will forever be Alonso...Alonzo? Either way, he's the guy from Voyage of the Damned. Allons-y Alonso!

OMG THE HARPOON AND COVERED IN BLOOD.

Stop being mean to Mrs Hudson...

The fact that Bluebell is relevant...you DUNCE, Sherlock

The superstitiousness of everyone about Dartmoor.

Good lord, he's so off putting, now in 2023. Literally what was I going through in 2012 that made me like Sherlock (the character) so much

The visuals in this episode ARE beautiful. The VIEWS of Dartmoor. One can really dramatically stand on rocks there. (I realize that sentence sounded sarcastic, but...it wasn't. It somehow wasn't. It was absolutely genuine)

I always liked this little village outside the army base. It's charming.

Love John insisting on Sherlock following through on the bet they definitely didn't make but that Sherlock DID lose. That is one BIG paw print

OMG. The tiny Mycroft parts because Sherlock stole his ID card that grants them access to Baskerville.

Oh...right. This is the episode where I do get ever so briefly attracted to John. I just get twirls-hair-around-finger when someone pulls rank...

I do feel very called out though...because in some ways my taste has not changed. What's that about a statement coat with the collar turned up so they look cool??? Goddammit

JOHN FOLLOWING A LEAD IN MORSE CODE but the flashing light was...like...a couple in a car hooking up

So. He's just pretending to have seen something right now. God, he's so infuriating

Henry (Alonso), no he didn't see it. He's playing you for a fool at this point. And now he's gaslighting John, too. It's all so much worse when you know.

Worstie, we both know that's not quite true. There's nothing wrong with you, PLEASE. There's SO much wrong with you. (Who am I? Who have I become??) Look, just because there's nothing "wrong" with your deduction skills doesn't mean you're 100% alright. Yeah...I'd have the same reaction as John.

Ok. Like. I know Dr Franklin is the one who did it. He's behind it all, but is he psychologically torturing poor Henry? Mmmm, maybe not if he's breaking up John's date with Henry's therapist

Aaaaaaaaand he's reeling you in to make the experiment he's testing on you go on. LORD, I forgot about the "you've never been the most luminous of people, but as a conductor of light you are unbeatable" He's so rude.

Pfffff, yes, Lestrade. Okay. Okay, I did laugh, GENUINELY laugh at the "[Mycroft] sends my handler incognito. Is that why you're calling yourself GREG?"

Hey, yeah. I remembered that the vegetarian restaurant was ordering meat, but WHY

Oh wait...is THIS when he drugs John?? Wait, was his freak out at the pub real?? I legitimately have no clue. I loathe this man.

And now I'm back on the, he's been playing them this WHOLE time.

Poor John, he doesn't deserve this happening to him

Oh wait. Shit. It was a genuine freak out on Sherlock's part earlier.

Gonna be frank with you. Did not remember/expect the "In" of "Liberty In" to be Indiana.

Yeah, I don't think that's gonna be your therapist any more, Henry. Sorry, bud.

Oh. Oh Henry, no.

Okay. On one hand, yeah, Sherlock's got it all figured out, but on the other...Henry his HIGHLY SUGGESTIBLE right now. I don't think this would hold up. You are literally telling him what "he remembers" in this state where we've just been shown that you'll see what you're told you'll see...

God...I forgot they just blew the villain up this time around. I mean...they let him chase them through an active mine field, so like...kind of the same thing. CAN WE STOP HURTING MY FEELINGS

He's such an asshole.

I was gonna end i there, but I forgot that Jim got locked up somehow and scratched Sherlock's name just alllllllllllllll over his cell walls. It...shouldn't be making me feel things, but it does. Jim always will.

[ffsg0jo]

- l i t t l e t h i n g s t h e y l o v e a b o u t y o u -

jjk x gn reader [maki,, panda,, inumaki,, yuta,, toji]

part 1,, part 2

WARNINGS: feet, little bit suggestive -- masterlist

a/n: i decided to make a part 2 because i thought it was kinda cute and i wanted to do it for everyone else! i hope you enjoy reading this as well and, as always, feel free to leave suggestions in my ask box!! also some of these aren't supposed to be inherently romantic (like panda's, who i envisioned as platonic), but you can see them however you want to!!

MAKI : these are my headcanons and i can write whatever i want so I'm just gonna say it. she loves how your second toe is longer that your big toe. when she first saw you sockless and realised your second toe was longer she couldn't help but let out a laugh. it was the silliest thing in the world but it cracked her. she always teases you for having a longer second toe, but she loves it so much and thinks its very cool. later that week you found out inumaki also had a longer second toe and you both decided to start a long toe society, excluding gojo even though he sent you photographic evidence of his longer middle toe. that bitch is too desperate for his own good.

PANDA : panda loves the way you lean into him and his warmth whenever you're tired or sleepy. it'd be a day where you're all up bright and early, sparring with each other and you've literally got out of bed and just about managed to get changed and brush your teeth. your eyes are barely open but you still stagger towards panda and just let yourself fall forward, face first into his soft plush figure. he places a paw on your back to keep you steady and just relishes in your warmth, the same way you do in his. he finds it adorable and he loves a good cuddle with you <33

INUMAKI : he loves the way you're not afraid to stand up for what you think is right and what you believe in. he finds it incredibly admirable and when he sees you verbally berating someone for being disrespectful he's always there behind you like 'go bestiee,, that's my best frannn'. he's honestly in awe of how unashamedly 'you' you are. inumaki has seen a lot of people being totally useless despite having voices they can use to help and try and make things right, so the fact you're so committed and stand by what you think is right is something he respects and loves about you. go you!!

YUTA : the fact that you actually exist and not just some spirit yuta loves how soft and warm your hands are. he knows that no matter the weather your hands radiate the warmth and heat he's been craving ever since he first laid his eyes on you. so when you bless him by slotting your hand into his, he holds it gently, careful not to hurt you and savours the warmth, praying that you never let go. and when you do eventually end up letting go his hand follows yours and he all of sudden feels extremely cold and empty. please hold this man's hand. he deserves it so so much.

TOJI : id say your ass, but we both know that ass ain't little. toji loves the way you dote on him. throughout his childhood and life toji hasn't really had anyone dote on him the same way you do. you'd wake up before toji leaves for a mission and pack him food for the next however many days and he's touched by it, but also a little scared. like you're packing lunches for an assassin, there must be a loose screw somewhere. anyways toji loves how much you care about him and he appreciates it. a lot. and he makes sure to show you how much he appreciates you as well ;)

© ffsg0jo 2022 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

taglist:: @dukina @cupidines @sinumaki @awwhstheic @em9503 @thegojosimpehe @serxeinxx -- feel free to join my taglist here <33

[levmada]

Hi!! Could we get some NSFW alphabet for Erwin? 🥺

hello anon!! id be happy too. sorry this was a couple days late- i tripped and ate shit a day ago, spraining my ankle. im doin' a lot better now, so i picked 5 letters [kink, risk, intimacy, pace and unfair] and wrote some for erwin! i hope you enjoy :)

//some verbal degradation, humiliation, masochism

Kink [one or more of their kinks]

I have so much to say on the subject of ruthless Commander Erwin with a heart of gold and the kinks that make his cock throb. I have so much to say. Here goes.

Rank: Think along the lines of a superior/subordinate type beat. I imagine that Erwin would normally prefer to keep his career and love life separate (given you’re a civilian or work in another branch of the military. If you’re a Scout, that’s a different story) given how morbid his job description is. That's besides the fact that Commander of the Survey Corps is a dangerous job and there are plenty of ostentatious snakes of men that wouldn’t hesitate to try and gain leverage over Erwin by getting at his lover.

All that to say–it’s a surprise to Erwin the small gasp elicited when you purr something like, “Is this alright, Commander?” in his ear upon palming him through his tight trousers. It’d be something you did just to tease him, but it’s sinful just how much it turns Erwin on. He really thought he knew what he liked, but leave it to you to make him realize he doesn’t.

All bets are off after that 😭😭 Once you know a quip of his title is enough to make Erwin’s cock throb and once he knows that, you’ll both be in for some sleepless nights <3

If I were you, I’d use it against him whenever he’s up late working way too much by candlelight. Come up behind Commander Erwin, purr in his ear and paw at his chest a little, and he’s yours.

The rank thing would def be like a power exchange. You might be the one calling him by it, but Erwin is the one truly at your mercy to hear it again and again. On the other hand, if you’re being a brat and teasing the hell out of him like he enjoys doing you, Erwin wouldn’t hesitate to please you and when you go to beg for him, he’d cock a brow at you, say, “is that all?”

You’d gasp with his tongue working into your slit and correct yourself, “Commander. Commander Erwin, fuck.”

Leaving marks: Can sucking hickies into your sweet skin be considered a kink? Let’s say it is. Warm, stinging marks from Erwin’s mouth and teeth all over your thighs and your pretty tits. He strikes me as a possessive man that loves to take, and once he does, Erwin needs to mark it (or them/her/him) as his.

Granted, Erwin isn't one to bruise and leave a mark where and when it’s not wanted, but when you bury your fingers in the back of his undercut and shove his face in your throat.. you’ll get questions and some dubious looks the next day. Not from Levi, who couldn’t give a shit less about you and his Commander’s sex life, but Hange would be all over you, probs asking invasive questions lol

PRAISE!! Every damaged man in aot has a praise kink and I am not wrong. Literally just breathe a stuttered lil’ compliment and include Erwin’s rank against the shell of his ear and he’ll probably cum: “So fucking good, Commander, you’re so f-fucking good..”

I think assuring Erwin that he’s making you feel amazing while he’s splitting your walls with his massive cock is something that’ll actually have him barking a curse into your shoulder. Seeing how Erwin was raised with a very respectable education in—assumably—good wealth, I doubt ‘shit’ and ‘fuck’ are big in his vocabulary. So when Erwin curses while he’s fucking you, and those big strong hands land on your thighs to pull you closer to him, you’re doin’ something right.

Degradation: ok last one i swear. Erwin loves to praised, but also degraded(??) in a way? Not that he’s into being outright insulted, but he likes to be showed his place in bed by you <3

There’s just something about you straddling his hips and taking his cock in like a seductress while you snidely comment, “look at you, Commander. Makin’ such a fuckin’ mess. Pathetic,” that draws a low groan from his chest and a coil of lust in his cock. Erwin would be inclined to hold your hips in a bruising grip when you call him a needy man-whore and use his superior strength to shove you back into missionary. Degradation like that.

Physically, he just likes to give away all control into your capable hands for a while, okay??😭 He has so much on his shoulders. Does that mean slowly warming Erwin up to the idea of a prostate massage and pulling orgasm after orgasm from him until he cums dry? Yes (though that doesn’t have much to do with degradation, stick with me.) Does that mean settling between his legs and working his heavy balls between your fingertips, all while setting a slow, steady pace with your mouth barely managing to take the girth of his cock? And not letting him cum until his fat cockhead is fuchsia, tears are clinging to his lashes, and he’s rock-hard in your mouth? Yes yes yes.

Erwin has a masochistic streak. I am never wrong.

Risk [are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.]

I picked this one just to point out that Erwin is definitely just as much of a gambler in his sex life as he is with his whole career. Yes, Erwin is a risk-taker.

Besides being open-minded to most things you bring up or other dubious kinks—e.g., binding your wrists tightly together with his own highly sacred bolo tie (and goddamn does it get him going)—Erwin is somewhat of an exhibitionist.

Given we’re in canon, this facet of the man has to be more reserved in lieu of political scrutiny, but it sure does show itself. I think you would bring up the idea of ducking underneath his wide desk—the expensive sort that’ll obscure you from sight to any visitors—and settling between his thighs before taking him down your throat.

The first time, Erwin is mildly appalled, but more than anything he’s intrigued; even more so to find that the idea elicits a twinge of arousal in his belly. There’s something so damn sexy about the possibility of getting a knock at the door–getting caught, or just nearly.

Times after the first time (in which Erwin cums so hard you can't swallow all of it, leaving some to drip down your chin) it becomes a reward, or a sort of treat. god knows Erwin could use a break—mans never stops working—so you’ll enter his office from time to time on late nights and crawl between his legs. Later, he’ll thank you by guiding you into his cushy office chair instead (the fucking Commander’s seat) and making you cum under his tongue. Besides that—and if he thinks that he can get away with it (and knowing Erwin's mind, he will)—his hands will wander at those shitty soirées he’s required to attend. If he can, he’ll always invite you along as an esteemed guest.

Intimacy [how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…]

I think that on a surface level, Erwin acts incredibly romantic towards someone he feels affections for. He’s so damn observant, you’d be hard pressed to try to hide how you feel around him. Leaning up against his Commander’s desk, that little spark in your eyes whenever he smiles at you.. omg. The point is, Erwin is good at playing that part, but a man like him would be disinclined to bare his heart to you until he’s certain you’re devoted to him.

That said, skip ahead a good long time. Time enough for Erwin to feel comfortable enough around you to share his immense guilt and doubts; time enough for him to realize both that he’s fallen irrevocably and deeply in love with you and that you’re not going anywhere.

During the moment, say, when your legs are wrapped round his waist, locked tight, as he carries you to bed, Erwin is tracing kisses down the side of your throat and speaking low into the shell of your ear; could be sweet nothings from the way you looked in the dress or tux he bought for you.. how much he almost couldn’t bear to wait. In any case, Erwin wants to fucking ravish you, and he tells you so like a poet.

Yeah sure, Erwin before you get to know him is plenty romantic, but really show him you’re willing you give him all you have, get to know him and show you love him despite all the horrifying bits of his life, and Erwin is the most romantic man you know 🙏 stg.

Pace [are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.]

Okay, Erwin is a man’s man (besides Miche😏) and he’s your rough-n-tough strong Commander, but he’s also young at heart, that heart being made of pure gold. (I must consciously stop myself from delving into a character analysis.)

I picture Erwin being a romantic man behind closed doors in general, and as for sex he has a proclivity towards pushing into you with no space left between your feverish bodies, deep and painstakingly passionate. Every roll of his hips is done with purpose; every kiss and frantic grasp for your thighs, hips, you.

Erwin doesn’t particularly strike me as someone who will seize your throat and ram his cock inside you; while he has to put up a front of brash ruthlessness to everyone else, that’s not who he is as a person. (Miche, however😏..)

Jokes aside, Erwin is one to please you in any area of sex (or life lmao) you need pleasing. He’s not one to—for the most part—lose all inhibition. If he’s stressed—post-expedition or dealing with snide politicians—you tell him he can let himself go for a while and take it out on your cunt–or your cock, depending on what you got. Maybe not in those words exactly, but yeah: "How about you fuck me 'till you feel better, yeah? I want you to."

And Erwin will come across thoughtful and pretend to be reluctant as not to give away just how much your words stir lust below his belt. Later, when you’re leaving searing, crescent-shaped marks down his back and Erwin is groaning outright sacrilege into your throat, the stress will melt off those broad, sexy shoulders of his.

Unfair [how much they like to tease]

Mm. If Erwin is anything other than a loyal, doting lover, he’s a tease. Being playful is a part of himself saved just for those close to him personally, especially you.

On intimate nights, this would translate as getting you bare and spread for him, and not doing a damn thing at first besides pressing feather-light kisses to your thighs, then nuzzling the cleft where your thigh meets the place you need Erwin most. He’ll kiss everywhere except your throbbing clit (or the flushed, weeping tip of your cockhead), and won’t quit his shit till you beg <3 That, or something else ridiculously petty.

S’all in good fun though; Erwin isn’t one to disregard your needs when you’re panting underneath him, pivoting your hips up and pawing at his back. No no. Erwin is guaranteed to eventually give in bury his fat cock inside you, or—and this is my personal favorite—let you ride his face and garner sweet friction from that sexy-ass Roman nose of his :)

| erwin masterlist | main masterlist |

[sluttbuttsstuff]

For the prompts, 49 with doppio? >:3 Idk what it is about him I just look at him and think “oh you’re NEEDY needy, huh?”. Thank you so much, you’re a really good writer! :)

No problem buddy, thanks for the request! >:3

Warnings: not sfw, dubcon/noncon, abduction, dark themes, yandere, etc.

Also, my requests are still open, if anyone else is interested!

Enjoy!

Yandere prompt with Doppio, “You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” afab reader, dub/non con

All you wanted to do now was go home. You had had a long week at work, your parents were nagging you again, and to make things worse you had a headache that would not go away. After an exhausting day that began before the sun was out, and ended after the sun had set, you certainly deserved to do nothing more than go home, eat some junk food in your comfy pjs, listen to a podcast while you took a bath and pampered yourself, and maybe jerk off before bed. Unfortunately, you had a “girls night” tonight.

Your friends (your IRL friends at least) complained that you never went out with them anymore (nevermind that whenever you suggested doing something with them, or wanted to chat or text on the phone they were busy) and had forced you to go clubbing with them to celebrate the three-day weekend ahead. You weren’t much of a drinker, and really weren’t much of a dancer, so you had been given the purses to hold while you waited for them to be ready to go home.

You wrinkled your nose in frustration, glaring into the blurry screen of your phone looking at the late time: this was unfair. You were a hard worker, kind to a fault to those around you, and you deserved better than this. Sitting in a corner of a crowded club, everyone in the place having a great time except for you, tired and alone. At least in your apartment, you chose to be there, and at least no one actively ignored you: places like this just pointed out the flaws you hated about yourself more: you were bad with people, and easy to ignore.

Once one of your “friends” stumbled over to the group’s table, you left them with everyone's purse, mumbling you were going to the bathroom (you didn’t know if she heard you and you didn’t care) and left before anyone could stop you. You stumbled your way to the restroom in heels way too high for you to walk in, trying to clean yourself up and find a quiet place to text your goodbyes so your friends wouldn’t worry about your sudden disappearance. Leaning over the sink counter, you wiped a makeup smear off the corner of your lips, noticing a second too late someone behind you.

“Hey, there’s another sink-” You began to say to the blurred figure way too close to you, before a sudden eruption of pain hit the side of your head, and you were out in a flash…

The next time you regained consciousness was several hours later, but it was still dark when you opened your eyes, trying to remember what happened and where in the world you were. The stale cigarette smell, the unreasonably cold ac, the bedsheets starched so strongly that the sheets felt like plastic- this was definitely a motel. But where, and how long had you been here? As you began to sit up, you heard a surprised, timid voice.

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re awake, I was beginning to worry about you! Hold on, don’t move so suddenly, i’ll help you sit up.

Sure enough, as you started moving, your head lit up with painful throbbing that made last night’s headache seem like nothing in comparison. You grit your teeth and clenched your eyes shut, trying not to groan in pain.

“What the hell happened to me last night?” you grunted through your teeth, rubbing your temple as gentle hands helped slowly sit you up propped against cushions.

“Haha, you had a lot of bad luck last night, running into my boss. He was waiting for...an employee in the restroom and thought you were sent after him. He’s a bit paranoid, and he may have...accidentally clobbered you.” The voice apologized, gentle as he handed you what felt like a glass of water.

You forced yourself to open your eyes; it was still dark, but you could tell it wasn’t because of the time of day but rather a lack of light and closed curtains. You looked at..you looked at the person in front of you. Like whoever had attacked you last night, they had long pink hair, braided and side parted. Their eyes were green and wide, and they looked particularly juvenile with a crop top and freckles. They were on the smaller side, perhaps even shorter than you (hard to tell from while on the bed) and their eyes were crinkled in apprehension, like he was afraid you were going to hurt him.

“Erm, don’t worry though, I talked him out of doing anything too..extreme, after all I'm his right hand man! Besides, you seem like a perfectly nice person, I'd hate to see anything bad happen to you. Sorry, I'm rambling! Umm, do you want something for your headache? You were groaning in your sleep, I'm sure it doesn’t feel so good right now-” He went on and on, pulling out some painkillers to take with your water.

After thanking him, you were about to swallow the pill before pausing, looking at the strange man who’d taken you to a remote hotel after his boss had nearly killed you. Sensing your suspicion, doppio exclaimed, “Oh, don’t worry, they’re safe, name brand painkillers! Um, hold on, lemme just-” And he made a show of popping some of the pills you were holding into his mouth and swallowing, sticking out his tongue and opening his mouth to show you he’d ingested it.

Satisfied, and more importantly in a lot of pain, you took some of the pills yourself, much to the relief of the pink haired man.

“Oh good, thank you for doing that! I was so worried watching you asleep, you’ll feel much better now! By the way, my name’s Doppio, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Oh! And I know your name’s y/n because you had your purse and ID on you! Haha, sorry for going through your purse, I was just hoping to find any info on you that might be, you know, important.” he sat on the bed, scooching closer and closer to you.

You cleared your throat, unsure of what to say, and the watchful eyes of Doppio doing nothing to make you feel better.

“Well, um, thank you, Doppio. I appreciate you, um, saving me? Sorry for any inconvenience, I'll just, um-” You try to get up to leave, only for Doppio to place a hand over your leg.

“Don’t go! What, I mean, what if you hurt yourself? You probably have a concussion, and also you haven’t had breakfast? We could eat together and-” Doppio stammered, grabbing your hand and stroking it with his sweaty, cold fingers.

You had to stop him, before things got out of hand.

“Thank you, Doppio, it really was very sweet of you to take such good care of me, but I-”

“Please! You don’t understand, I mean-” Doppio fumbled with his words, clearly trying to make you stay at all costs.

“Doppio, i can’t stay here forever, i need to go home. My friends are probably worried about me by now.” You tried to press on, you didn’t want to upset the man with a powerful boss, but you felt increasingly claustrophobic with Doppio pawing at you.

“You mean those mean girls who left you with their purses all night? Why would you care about what they-” Doppio covered his mouth with both hands quickly, realizing what he just said.

Your blood ran ice cold; how did he know so much about them? Had he been watching you before the “incident”

Using his moment of weakness, you got up from the bed and tried to reach the door; it was time for you to go home, if not call the cops.

Doppio yelped, Throwing himself in front of the door before you could make your escape.

“Please, don’t be scared y/n! I didn’t mean to upset you, I only meant that I can treat you much better than your friends can. I mean, look at how good I've been for you so far?? I didn’t make you dance with me at the club, even though I really wanted to. I didn’t just have my fun against your will in the bathroom stall like the boss told me to do.I saved you from a concussion, or worse! I got you your own hotel room for the night, and didn’t take advantage of you or touch you while you were asleep! I want our first time to be special, after all! Isn’t that what you want?” Doppio pleaded, eyes wild as he tried to smile, trying to calm you.

You were anything but calm however, this guy was clearly obsessed with you, and had been for longer than just one night. Even if at first he had merely seemed like a pathetic “nice guy” you no longer had any pity or time to give him.

“Doppio, get away from the door and let me leave, now.” you demanded in your best authoritative voice. Doppio whimpered, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all, you were supposed to love him!

“You can’t! Boss and I won’t let you!” He cried, covering the door with his body. With no other choice, you slid out of your shoes and charged at him full speed. You managed to give him a good blow on the head, and threw him out of the way of the door. He cried, crumpled on the ground. If not for the fact that he had kidnapped you, you might have felt bad for hurting him like this, but you had to think of yourself at this moment.

As you finally unlock and pull open the door, heading towards freedom, you hear the strangest noise behind you.

“RingRingRingRingRing!” Doppio calls after you, in an unnatural, high pitched tone. You try to ignore it, you literally don’t have time for this, but with strength he had not previously displayed, Doppio grabs one of your arms, twisting it behind your back and up to his ear, holding it like a telephone.

There’s a trickle of blood, and one of his eyes is rolled back in its socket, but he calmly says, “Hello, this is Doppio,” Into your hand, as if he was having a normal conversation on the phone.

You scream out, doubled over by the pain in your arm, Doppio silent as he “listens” to his “Phonecall” oblivious to your suffering. Where did all this power come from? He was acting like an entirely different person, and frankly scaring you. Doppio nodded, pulling your hand closer into his ear and intently listening to nothing but air before “Hanging up and pulling you back into the motel room.

He threw you on the bed ( his arms felt much stronger, and more muscular for some reason) before crawling on top of you and pinning you down. You were too stunned, and frankly too scared, to come up with any means of escape, just weakly struggling to throw him off of you to no avail.

“Doppio, please-” You whispered, eyes blurry with tears.

“I talked to the boss, and he helped me figure out what to do. He wants our relationship to succeed after all!” Doppio exclaimed, additude reverted to how he’d first spoken to you. You were confused, you’d neither seen nor heard anyone in or around the room, who was he talking to and how?

“Boss told me that people like you need some discipline in order to be obedient, or you’ll walk all over me. If I can do that, then I can make you love me, and we’ll be happy together, isn’t that what you want?” Doppio told you, stroking your cheek.

“This is not okay, Doppio!” you yell, thrashing against both arms, “Let me go or i’ll-”

...

Wait a minute, both arms?

Then how was he…?

You look over to one side in shock, only to see a floating metallic and red arm holding you down, one on either side. You screamed, overwhelmed by a stalker and strange supernatural forces you couldn’t understand.

“Oh, you can see King Crimson's arms? Interesting, perhaps because of your near death experience with Boss, you can see stands now? Although, it would be bad if you developed a stand, what to do?...” Doppio pondered to himself, speaking apparent babble.

You cried, trying to wake up from this obvious nightmare with no luck.

“Awww, hey y/n, it’s okay, i’m not gonna hurt you! Not if you be good for me and Boss.” Doppio cooed, kissing your cheeks and forehead. “I talked boss into keeping you with us- you’re always so lonely at home, and never have a good time with others, right? You don’t have to lie anymore, I've been watching you for a while. Nobody else seems to, though, they’re too self-absorbed and stupid to realize how incredible you are!” He continued, oblivious to his words not helping, but hurting you.

“You’re perfect for me and boss, we can take really good care of you. Forget this lousy motel, we have mansions and villas all over Italy that we can take holidays to. We have billions of Lira from work, you’ll never have to lift another finger and we’ll pamper you to death. And best of all? You’ll never have to see your awful friends or family again! Isn’t it awful how they treat you? We can get rid of them, so they can’t hurt you!” He finishes, grinning ear to ear, but his eyes hollow and lifeless, staring unblinkingly into yours.

This guy was sick, there was no other word to it. You might have had issues with your family, and yeah your friends could be assholes sometimes, but you didn’t want them killed! What good would that do you, or anyone for that matter?!

Doppio seemed to read your thoughts, “Look, I know it's a lot to take in at once, but trust me. Boss and I have planned this out for a while now, and we’re always going to do what’s best for us, ok? So don’t worry so much, and please stop struggling? Boss warned me if you got too unruly he’d take over and finish what he started last night.

A wave of nausea slithered through you as you remembered, thinking how close you were to dying. You gave up, lying limp on the bed, praying for this to end.

Doppio smiled again, this one almost seeming genuine, and gave you the softest kiss to your lips. It was childish, almost, and he clearly lacked experience, but he gained more confidence from your lack of struggling. With the mysterious hands holding you (stands? King crimson?) his own hands were free to touch you. He started With your cheeks, your face, your hair, your neck, stroking you with feather-light touches, his fingers tracing each curve, digit and flaw like he was trying to memorize it all.

“Finally… I finally get to touch you like this… I’ve been waiting for so long, y/n. Do you know how long I've wanted to hold you?” He whispered, wrapping his arms around your neck, cradling your cheek to his. You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to, but Doppio told you anyway.

“I’ve been watching, waiting...for so long. Following you home from work, listening into your calls, finding your online accounts. I’ve known since I first saw you that you were the one for me, and now I get to prove it to you. I get to show you all the things I've been meaning to do to you. You’ll never be lonely again, not with me around. We’ll never be lonely~”

He giggled the last part, giddy with excitement, as he slid his fingers down your ribcage, your sides, fiddling with the bottom of your shirt. You wriggled, trying to fight him off again, only to your dismay Doppio giggled even harder at your reactions-perhaps because he knew you could never overpower him.

“Ohhh~ still so shy? Don’t be so uptight, y/n, you need to live a little! I know how much you want this; you complain about it all the time on your personal blog-” You could feel the blush on your cheeks heating up your face, desperate to make him shut up, “ How you want someone to have their way with you, to make you forget everything else in life. You’re desperate for someone to truly cherish and understand you; mentally and physically. You want me to love you? You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” Doppio rambled on and on, ripping your shirt off with strength he hadn’t had before.

You yelped, goosebumps forming on your skin as Doppio cackled, rubbing his face on your stomach, and into your cleavage poking out from your bra.

“Yes, let go for me! Show me every emotion, everything you’ve been holding back from me for so long- i need it, I demand it!” He snarled, splitting your nicest bra in half, and biting down on your neck, hard.

You screamed, legs kicking uselessly as the pain blurred your mind and you were operating purely on instinct. Doppio didn’t seem bothered in the least by it, you could still feel his laughter against your sore neck, as he sucked down on it, trying to bruise and mark you. His hands couldn’t help but find their way to your breasts, toying with them and squeezing them with admittedly little expertise. But he was a quick learner, making note of each little gasp and twitch according to how he touched you, and improving his technique from there. He twisted your nipples a bit roughly, already hard from the chilly air and sensitive to touch- you couldn’t help but moan a little in satisfaction. It had been awhile.

Doppio’s moans echoed yours, as he kissed his way down the crevice of your breasts, and licked each nipple in turn. You squirmed, not in fear or anger but pleasure, angry at yourself for letting this strange man win your body over so easily. Doppio kept his eyes on you at all times, studying your face to see how you felt. He’d had to watch you for so long from so far away, alone in your bedroom, or so you thought… it was time to use the knowledge he’d gained to make your body crazy for him.

You jumped at Doppio’s hands, cupping your groin through your pants, trying not to buck into his hands . It was getting harder and harder to deny him, though, why couldn’t you just-?

Doppio pulled your pants down to your ankles, taking your panties with it. He groaned audibly at the sight- your pussy was so wet and dripping, there was still a trail connected to your underwear.

“No, don’t-” You cried, snapping your legs shut, visibly scared at what was taking place again. Doppio was losing patience, crouching down and prying your legs open,

“Stop fighting me, y/n, you clearly want this!” He cried, eye twitching in annoyance. He managed to open your legs again, and buried his face into your pussy. He moaned, licking up a wet stripe against your labia, warm and puffy and so wet for him- he knew you would be, he knew you loved him.

Tears streaked down the sides of your face, this was so much and so intense. Your thighs clamped down on Doppio’s cheeks and neck, squeezing him as hard as you could. Not hard enough, apparently, as he just started giggling again through a full mouth and busy tongue “Ssho good, y/n, why have you been hiding thissh from mee~?” he moaned, tongue circling your clit. You flung your head back into the pillow, gripping the mysterious hands that held you for any source of strength or comfort.

Watching you whimper so pitifully with his head between your legs, obviously blissed out after being so needy and alone for so long, just did things to doppio. He loved the pained, fucked out expression on your face- you couldn’t even keep your eyes open as he snuck one, two fingers into your aching pussy. You whimpered so cutely, and it was all for him and him alone. Finally~

“Y/n, please, i can only hold back for so long, let me make sure it’s not painful… be good for me, please?” Doppio begged, grinding his hips into the mattress before he could help himself. Begrudgingly, you moved your thighs back just enough for Doppio to push them away, when he got a wonderful idea. King crimson, or what Boss had lent him of his stand to use, sensed his thought, and grabbed both your hands in one arm. Doppio pushed your thighs back and up, effectively bending your knees into your chest and displaying your pussy in such a beautiful way. You cried out, surprised by the sudden movements and embarrassed by how exposed you were, but there was nothing you could do about it. Doppio was just too strong.

The other free hand floated down, spreading your lips apart to give Doppio a nice view before pummeling two of his thick, strong fingers inside of you. You screamed, crying as the fingers curled directly into your sweet spot, massaging with robotic-like precision and speed. The sounds you were making were wet, animalistic, and you were quickly brought close to the brink.

“Perfect, y/n! Just like that, let yourself go! It makes me happy to see a side of yourself you never show anyone else- and you never will to anyone but me! Remember, I'm the one making you feel this good, right y/n? You couldn’t possibly find anything half as wonderful from anyone else but me! Me, got it?!” Doppio exclaimed, his voice cracking and becoming much darker, scarier. For a second, you could swear he looked like a different person entirely, wild, angry and dangerous- but you blinked and Doppio was just as before.

Doppio licked his lips, sweating and anxious, this was good enough to make you love him, right? This was what he had to do to make you happy? Boss’s words from before appeared in his head though, and he remembered how Boss had always been right before. Doppio trusted him, and was determined to win you over. Doppio let go of one of your legs-you seemed adequately distracted and restrained to get away from him- and unzipped his fly. In truth, he would’ve preferred to get all the way naked with you for the first time, so you could see and feel the real him as well, but clearly the two of you were too desperate and impatient for him to get fully naked. This time.

You whimpered at the sound of a zipper, feeling the fingers pull out of you. You heard the crinkle of a wrapped, and the muffled groan as Doppio probably rolled a condom onto himself, but you were too afraid to look. The strong floating hand, still wet with your juices, gripped your cheek and forced you to look at Doppio, staring you down with much more restraint and calm than he had been. Doppio kissed your cheek, then your lip, and pushed his warm cock achingly slowly, gently, into your waiting pussy.

You couldn’t help yourself from moaning, grabbing at the hands that held you, thrusting yourself onto Doppio’s hard and hot cock. He bit his lip, feeling you twitch and squeeze around him; he was trying so hard to be gentle for you, why were you still making things so difficult. He chuckled to himself, and motioned for King Crimson to let you go; finally you were beginning to relax and enjoy yourself, and he wanted to enjoy every bit of it.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around Doppio, holding him close to you. Your mind was a mess, your body even messier, you didn’t know what to think or do about your abducter/rapist fucking you so tenderly, and you were tired of fighting. So you let him fuck you, slowly and gently and way way emotionally. Doppio wiped away new tears you hadn’t realized were there, shushing you, “It’s okay, my sweet y/n. Just relax and let me do the work. Don’t fight it any more, just let go.” He whispered, pressing kisses into your lips and cheeks far too sweetly.

So you did, you relaxed and sank into the mattress, pulling Doppio down with you. He let go of your thighs, and held you tightly to him as he fucked-no, made love to you. He gradually picked up the pace, huffing and whispering words of admiration to you about your body, or how much he adored you. You took it all limply, the fight having gone out of you and desperate for comfort. The floating arms, which you had forgotten about, reappeared and stimulated your nipples and clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Doppio sped up as well, he knew this would have to end, but he wanted to make it last as long as possible. This was your first time together, after all. He wanted to make it special. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer into you. You could feel the spongy head of his dick rub your inside so sweetly, you were starting to get addicted to the feeling. Doppio buried his head into your neck, mumbling nonsense as he pushed in deeper and deeper, faster and faster, as his restraint gave way to passion.

“Y/n I- I don’t know how much longer I can last, but-” He kissed you, as the stroking of your clit sped up. You groaned loudly, you were so close, “Just a bit longer, please~” You begged, biting your lip. Doppio took a deep breath, steeling himself as he was determined to make you come first. He pounded into you, urging you closer and closer, four sets of hands circling your body and drawing out noises and gasps from you out of your control.

“Almost there, please, almost~!!!” You cried, throwing your head back with a final sigh as you came hard and fast, your core heating up and washing over you as Doppio helped you ride it out with clit rubs. Your walls fluttering around him, the face that you made as you came from him, for him, it was too much and he quickly filled his condom inside of you, moaning even louder than you had as he thrust without abandon into your wonderful, most precious place. He didn’t want to stop, thrusting almost to the point of overstimulation, before he had to stop, and collapsed on top of you. He cooed and kissed his praises and thanks into your shoulder and skin, before he noticed the soft sound of you snoring. Poor thing, he chuckled to himself, you’d really worked yourself up.

He reluctantly pulled out, after indulging in 5 minutes of cuddling your sleeping body and listening to your heartbeat. Doppio cleaned the two of you off, and tucked you into the covers of the motel- now would be a good time to set up moving you into your new home. After all, The whole reason you were in the motel is because the moving company Boss had hired to move your things into the main base would take several hours to complete their job, and Boss didn’t want anyone seeing you or Doppio at home. Doppio ruffled your hair as you slept, pulling out his cellphone to check in with Boss and give him the full update he’d requested.

Tonight was going to be very busy.

[spenciebabie]

could you do a blurb or hc where spence is going down on you and your phone rings and he makes you answer it??

if you’re comfortable with that of course :)) xx

I got one exactly like this I’m gonna knock out too:

“can u do a lil blurb on spencer being a little shit and eating you out while you’re on the phone😄”

— —

He loves going down on you. He loves the way you taste, the way you move and squirm beneath him, loves the little pathetic noises you make when his fingers are inside you at the same time. Loves the feeling of your hands pulling at his hair when he keeps going after you’ve already cum. He loves every single part of it.

So he’d never pass up an opportunity like this, you sitting on the sofa in front of him in a dress with no panties underneath. It was supposed to be you teasing him, but it was out of your hands the second he knelt down on the ground in front of you.

Pushing your dress up further and further slow and teasing until he revealed your cunt, soaking wet already, waiting for him. The sight was just too pretty, he wanted to dive in right away. But he knew better than that, taking his time to carefully litter your thighs with soft kisses. Working his way up to harsher ones, nipping and biting at the skin in an effort to leave a mark as you already squirmed beneath him.

“Fuck Spencer, please” you had to whine out for him to finally touch you. Taking pity on the desperate tone that laced your voice.

As soon as his lips connected with your core and your head fell back against the couch, your phone rang.

You froze completely, not wanting to answer it obviously, and waiting for Spencer to stop. But he didn’t, he just replaced his mouth with his fingers for a second and looked up at you to speak, his lips glistening already.

“Answer it for me baby. I promise I’ll be good”

Looking at the caller ID it was Emily, if it had been really important both your phones would be ringing so hopefully it was nothing. But you still didn’t want to answer it.

“Spence, she’ll hear” you moan out as his fingers curl up inside you.

“I’ll be quiet if you will?” He smirks up, answering the call and handing it up to you to take. You wanted to kill him, and you might’ve if his tongue didn’t feel quite so good.

“Emily, hey” you manage to get out in the most normal tone you can put together, and she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Hey, I just wanted to find out a time that suited you for a meeting some time next week? Nothing too serious, I’ll only need like an hour?” Emily speaks.

But once Spencer can hear her voice on the other end of the phone he starts to pick up the pace. Forcing his fingers in and out of you so harsh that it feels like Emily must be able to hear the downright filthy sounds they’re making. His lips wrap around your clit and begin to suck at the same time, and your hips arch up off the couch only to be pinned back down by Spencer. His grip so rough it must be leaving some kind of bruise.

You have to take a second to remember to breathe before you can string together a sentence.

“Next— uh— next week?”

“Yeah, any day in particular suit? I know we might be called away but it’s good to have some kind of plan in place?”

One of your hands comes down to rest in Spencer’s hair. Tugging against it roughly in a bid to get him to stop, but it only seems to encourage him as he moans out against you. The vibrations of his lips and tongue only making things infinitely worse for you until you have to let out a noise.

“Fuck!” You gasp out before you realize what you’ve done.

“Are you alright?” Emily sounds concerned down the line and you have to think quickly.

“Yeah, no! I just— my toe, I stubbed my toe!” You rush out, and it’s not the most convincing lie ever but she doesn’t seem to pry, “Um Tuesday? After lunch?” You throw any time at all out there just to get her off the line.

Spencer can tell the call is coming to an end so he reaches up with his one free hand to grab at your tits over the fabric of your dress, roughly taking one, squeezing it in his hand and all of the sensations together just feel too good. And you’re so close.

“Great yeah that works for me. Is Spencer around actually? I was gonna give him a call next but if he’s there with you?” Emily asks and you don’t have another ounce of strength in you to fight against it anymore.

“No! I’m alone here” it comes out as a little whine and Emily’s probably concerned for your mental health now too.

“Oh alright, I’ll call him later so. Bye then!” Emily hangs up then and you’re cumming around Spencer, on Spencer. Finally moaning out as loud as you needed to as his mouth and fingers continued to make you feel as good as it was possible to feel.

When he comes up for air, there’s a grin plastered on his face as he moves up the couch to join you. Placing a kiss on your lips so that you could taste yourself on him before pulling back.

“You’re a bastard” you breathe out, your chest still heaving from the exertion.

“I’m your bastard” he chuckes and places another kiss on your lips, trailing it down to your neck until he was pawing at the neckline of your dress.

“Don’t get too comfy, Emily’s gonna call you any minute and I’m out for revenge”

[middleearthpixie]

Where I Belong ~ Chapter Eight

Summary: Noelle and Thorin go to see a friend of hers who is a physicist to try and get some answers on wormholes…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield/ Noelle James (female oc)

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Noelle, Dr. Ian Carter

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,399 words

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here and AO3

Noelle tried not to think about Thorin’s amazing kiss as they made their way out of Central Park. She failed, but she really did try. However, every time her gaze alit upon him, it all came rushing back. The fire. The sin. The sensuality. That one kiss was better than the lifetime of kisses in her past.

He walked slightly ahead of her, which, had her thoughts not been so troubled, she would have found funny because he had no idea where anything was or how to flag down a cab or anything. Yet, he automatically took the lead. And not with arrogance, but with a quiet confidence that just let her know he knew he was in charge, even if he didn't quite know exactly what it was he was in charge of.

Not that she minded. Walking along behind him definitely had it advantages and one was definitely how good he looked in those damn Levi’s. It might be the only one at the moment, but she’d take it.

“Wait, Thorin, hold on,” she called, tugging out her phone. “Before we go rushing over to Tandon, only to find he’s in class or a faculty meeting or something, let me touch base with him.”

He came back, pointing at her phone. “What is that?”

“This? It’s an iPhone. A cell phone. That way you are never out of reach and people can always find it.”

He plucked it from her fingers to study. Like most of the things in her world, it looked out of place in Thorin’s huge paw. “What does it do?”

“What does it do? Uh, I think the question is, what doesn’t it do?” She took it back, moving to stand next to him as she held it up to unlock it with the Face ID feature. “It’s a phone, a mini-computer, a game center, and a photo album.”

As she talked, she held up the phone, leaned in to press her cheek to his, and took a picture of them. “See?”

He stared down at the image of them, cheek to cheek. “How… how did you do that?”

“Magic.” She pointed to the shutter button. “Press it and take your first selfie.”

He looked over at her as his thick index finger hit the button. “My first what?”

She burst out laughing at the photo of him—he’d managed to cut his face almost perfectly in half and since he’d been looking at her when he took it, his right eye turned inward, making him cockeyed. “Your first selfie and it is a keeper, Mr. Oakenshield.”

“Durin.”

“What?”

“Oakenshield was a name given to me in battle, or after battle, actually. My given name is Durin.” He glanced down at his image and scowled. “And that is a terrible likeness of me.”

“Here. I’ll take a better one.” She took the phone back and smiled up at him. “Put your arm around me, if you don’t mind.”

His eyes darkened slightly, but only for a moment, as he eased his arm about her waist. The heat from his fingers sank into the heavy wool of her topcoat, but she tried to ignore it as she slid her arm about his waist as well. “Lean into me.”

As his beard brushed her cheek, it took everything she had for her to resist the urge to nuzzle him. It was softer than she thought a beard would be, as she really hadn’t paid much attention to it when he’d kissed her. Somehow, the softness of his lips put all thoughts of his beard from her mind.

He also smelled nice—clean like Ivory soap and with a hint of frosty air. His hand tightened on her waist and maybe it was only her imagination, but he seemed to press his cheek a bit harder against hers as well. She tried to put both sensations from her mind as she lifted the camera, but then his thumb gently swept up toward her ribs and her heart skipped another beat.

She clicked the shutter and smiled at the result. He certainly didn’t look the slightest bit cockeyed in that picture. “The camera likes you.”

“How does it know me?”

“No,” she held the phone up again, “I mean, look at you. It means you take a great picture.”

“Let me try.” He took the phone from her and once more leaned close to her. But this time, as he clicked the shutter, he turned at the last minute and pressed a kiss into her cheek.

“What—what was that for?”

“For explaining this magic to me,” he said as he passed the phone back to her. “I have the feeling not everyone would be so patient with me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You’re a good-looking guy, you know. Three women have nearly walked into trees in the time we’ve been standing here playing with my phone. I’m sure any one of them would be more than patient with explaining stuff to you.”

“I care not about them.”

“Be that as it may, I’m sure any one of them would help you as well. And besides, you’re a quick learner, so explaining things to you isn’t really all that much trouble.”

“They couldn’t help me.” He met her gaze and her heart sped up as he added in a low growl, “It had to be you.”

“Why?”

“I cannot say, but I know it to be true. You are the one I had to find.”

“I wish understood why, though. It might making helping you that much easier, because there is nothing special about me otherwise. I’m no Tolkien expert. I know nothing about traveling between dimensions and never even gave a passing thought to any movie character walking off the screen and into my life.” She looked down at photo he’d taken of them. If she didn't know any better, she would say they looked every bit a happy couple. That the kiss they’d shared earlier was only one of many to come. That when they went back to her apartment, they’d share another kiss like that, and it would lead straight to her bedroom where they would do their best to destroy one another in the best ways possible.

But…

She did know better. And none of that was true.

Damn it.

With a low, silent sigh, she toggled away from the photo and to her contacts, pulled up Ian’s office number and dialed.

“Dr. Carter’s office.”

“Hi, is Dr. Carter available?”

“Who shall I say is calling?”

She glanced over at Thorin, who’d wandered over to the stone bench known as the Whisper Bench. “Tell him it’s Noelle.”

“One moment, please.”

She watched as Thorin bent to read the inscription on the bench’s back, jumping when Ian said, “Noe? What’s wrong?”

“Why do you always ask me that when I call?”

“Well, usually, it’s because you need my help with something. So, what’s wrong?”

“Ian, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You have to see it yourself. Are you free this afternoon? Like around four?”

“You’re in luck. My last class ends at three-fifty. So, I’ll be in my office from about four on.”

“Okay. Still at Tandon?”

“Where else would I be?”

She smiled. “I’ll see you at four.”

“I won’t leave until I see your pretty face, Noe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Bye, Ian.”

She turned back to see Thorin still at the bench and so walked over to him. “If you sit at that end, and I sit at the far end and whisper, you should be able to hear it.”

He jumped, whipping about as he said, “What?”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” She tucked the phone back into her pocket and pointed at the bench. “Sit.”

He did and she moved to the opposite end of the bench and whispered, “We have to go. Ian’s office is in Brooklyn.”

He stiffened as if she’d shouted it at him, then, with a hint of a grin, whispered back, “Where is that?”

She got to her feet and held out a hand. “It’s not the other side of the world, but it’s about forty minutes from here, so we should go.”

He rose and joined her and to her surprise, reached to link his fingers with hers. “In case we get separated.”

“Separated?” She looked about at the nearly empty park around them. “I think we’re the only ones here.”

“Humor me, if you will.”

She couldn’t deny how comfortable her hand felt in his, how a sudden warmth traveled up her arm to fill her and how it gave her the urge to lean her head against his shoulder. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this comfortable with a guy. Her relationship with Dan had been the longest and even he didn't make her feel this comfortable. He was never much one of public displays of any kind, and when he’d hold her hand, it felt stiff and more like he did so because he had to, and not because he wanted to.

But Thorin did not give off that air. His fingers threaded with hers easily, his hand warm and relaxed against hers. And as they strolled up toward Eighty-Second Street, his thumb every so often casually brushed hers.

She was almost sorry when they reached the sidewalk and she hailed a cab. But, as she settled in beside Thorin and said, “MetroTech Center in Brooklyn, please,” his hand came to rest on her knee.

She settled back, and without thinking, she let her hand come down atop his. He dressed like a New Yorker, but still wore his heavy rings as well as the ornaments in his hair, and as she traced over the one on his middle finger. “What is this made of?”

“Silver. Mined at Erebor before Smaug came.” He carefully eased it from his finger and caught her by the wrist to turn her hand over, then dumped it into her palm.

It was far heavier than she’d imagined, and warm, of course. But it was also huge, too big for any of her fingers, including her thumb. “Did you forge it or cast it or whatever it is one does to silver?”

“No. It was done by one of the others. Balin, if memory serves. He’s a jeweler. I’m actually a blacksmith by trade.”

“A blacksmith?” She looked over at him. “But, I thought you said you were a king?”

She went to give it back, but he refused to take it. “I am a king. Or I will be again, once my kingdom no longer belongs to a dragon. And keep it. Consider it a thank you for your kindness.”

“Thorin, don’t be silly. I can’t accept this.”

“You can and you will because I’ll not take it back.”

“It doesn’t even fit me.”

“I didn’t think it would.” He closed her fingers over the ring and pressed her hand back down onto her thigh. Then, he covered her hand with his. “What is this music playing? It’s far better than what we heard the night I found you.”

She smiled. “This is Bruce Springsteen. And if anyone asks, Mary’s dress sways.”

“What?”

“Trust me.” She glanced over at him. “What are those cubes, in your braids?”

He smiled. “I explained to you the meaning of the raven, and the word aznâg, and this one,�� he touched the braid on the right side of his head, “was a gift from my father, given to me the night before we were to go into battle at Khazad-dûm.”

She nodded, reaching up to touch the smooth braid, over the warm rune. “Is this also silver?”

“It is. They both are.” He turned his head and caught his left braid to lay it across his palm. “and this one says Irak’adad and bâha. They were gifts from my nephews and translate into uncle and friend.”

“Your family is close then?”

“We are, yes. Most dwarven families are. Only my sister and I and her sons are left now. My parents and my younger brother are gone.”

“Oh, Thorin,” she let her hand come to rest on his thick thigh, “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. I’ve made my peace with it, though.”

“Still… Tell me about your sister. Is she younger or older?”

“Younger but she mothers me more than our mother actually did. She tried to keep the boys—Fíli and Kíli—from coming with me on this quest, but they are Durin’s sons and keeping them in Ered Luin was beyond impossible, so I promised her I’d watch over them and keep them safe. And now… I have no clue as to what danger they might be in.”

His expression grew pained, his eyes soft with sorrow that he tried to hide by bowing his head, but he wasn’t fast enough. Noelle gave his thigh a gentle squeeze. “You didn’t abandon them, Thorin,” she told him softly, “at least, not intentionally. You said yourself that Mirkwood is an enchanted place with a lot of dark magic in the air. You had no control over what happened.”

“We were told to remain on the path,” he said without lifting his head, “and I, in my fool arrogance, did not listen. The bridge we needed to cross was in ruin and in our attempt to cross the river or stream or whatever it was, we strayed from the blasted path and now I’m here and they are there and I have no way of getting back to them or seeing how they even are.”

“I promise you, Thorin, I will find a way to get you back where you belong. I don’t know how yet, but I will.” She glanced down at the ring in her grasp, then slipped it back onto his finger. “And you should keep this.”

“Miss Noelle,” his voice was a low rumble as he tugged the ring free again, “I wish you to have this. If nothing else, to remember me once I’ve gone.”

She swallowed hard at that. He’d been in her life all of two days and while she knew he had to return to his own dimension, his own time and place, she would miss him terribly. Still, she smiled as she said, “I don’t think I’m going to forget this or you.”

“Still.” He reached down to her purse and tucked the ring into it. “I’d like you to have it.”

“Thank you.” She settled against him, giving into the urge to rest her head against his shoulder. He didn't seem to mind, but instead drummed his fingers softly against his knee in time to Springsteen’s Thunder Road, in which Mary’s dress either swayed or waved, depending on who listened.

“So, what do you think this friend of yours will tell us?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted without lifting her head. “But, he’s a physicist and might know how wormholes work in the real world. Maybe the end of it moves. Maybe there’s more to it than just location.”

“And if he says there is nothing we can do?”

“Again, I don’t know,” she admitted softly. It wasn’t something she let herself think about, because she didn’t know how he would take being trapped in her world. “I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when and if we get to it. But, if there is a way, we will find it.”

He sighed softly, his fingers going still as Springsteen became Neil Young. She looked over at him. “Don’t care for Neil Young?”

“I like the person we heard before this. What was his name again?”

She smiled. “Bruce Springsteen. When we get back to my apartment, I’ll play you some more of his music. I think you’ll like it.”

He nodded, leaning his head back as he murmured, “I think I will, too. Do you have much by him?”

She smiled. He should only know the true extent of her Springsteen library. “A few discs, yes.”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence settled over them as then and by the time they arrived, dusk was creeping in. She paid the cabbie and turned to Thorin. “This way.”

He remained quiet as she led him through the building to where the offices where and at Ian’s door, she paused and rapped on it. “Anyone home?”

“Noe, is that you?”

“Are you expecting someone else?”

Ian Carter was a giant of a man—almost six and a half feet tall and all long legs and gangly arms—and as he swooped out of his office, he grabbed her in a bear hug and lifted her easily. “Your call was such a nice surprise, Noe. I thought you were going to be in Telluride until the new year?”

Her spine popped from the force of his hug, and for a few minutes, she thought she was probably taller for it, but then he set her down and she realized she was still fun-sized. Oh, well. “I was, but then. I —uh—I had a a change in plans.”

Ian’s dark eyes widened as they fell on Thorin. “Ah, you must be Dan! Noe’s told me about you, and she keeps swearing we’ll all get together but damn, you keep her tied up, don’t you?”

“Ah, Ian—” Noelle shook her head. “That’s not—”

Thorin’s eyes were narrow and cold as he said, “I am afraid you have me confused with another, for my name is not Dan. And I’ve never tied a woman up anywhere.”

“No, Thorin,” she stepped between him and Ian, looking up as she explained, “it just means keeping someone busy. That’s all. He doesn’t mean literally tied up.”

A deep flush swept along Ian’s sharply angled cheekbones. “Ah… sorry… I just assumed… Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Ian Carter, Industry Professor at your service.”

“Thorin Durin,” Thorin replied, his voice void of any emotion. “And I thank you for your assistance in getting me home.”

Ian’s smile wavered as he looked from Thorin to Noelle. “I’m sorry… did I miss something?”

Noelle bit back a sigh. “Can we go inside? I think you’re going to think we—” she gestured first to Thorin, then to herself—“are absolutely nuts when I tell you why we’re here.”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” He gestured to the room behind him. “Come on in.”

Thorin bobbed his head as he passed Ian. “Thank you.”

“Noe, what’s going on?” Ian caught her by the elbow as she try to walk by him. “Are you all right? Where’s Dan?”

“I’ll explain in a moment, I’m fine, and he’s in Telluride, where he decided he’d rather afsêl his partner.”

“He’d rather what?” His hand slipped from her arm and she brushed by him to sit next to Thorin on the far side of Ian’s small metal desk. His office was exactly how one would expect a scientist’s office to look— cluttered with instruments and papers, books piled on one corner of his desk, another stack piled on a chair.

He drew out his chair and folded himself into it. “So, what can I do for you?”

Noelle took a deep breath. “What do you know about wormholes?”

“Wormholes?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I know, bear with me, please? I swear, I’ll try to make it make as much sense as I possibly can in a minute.”

He sat back in his chair, looking from her to Thorin and back. “Well, first off, no one is certain any such thing actually exists. It’s all just theory, mind you. None of it has been proven as yet.”

“I understand,” Thorin rumbled, his hands resting on his thighs. Unlike in the cab, where he drummed along to the music, his hands were still now, just splayed out across his massive thighs like equally massive catcher’s mitts.

“The easiest way to explain what one is would be to take a a sheet of paper,” he lifted a sheet from the pile in his inbox, “and bend it over. The paper represents space as a two-dimensional plane and the wormhole would appear in as a hole and that hole would lead to a three-dimensional tube. That tube leads to a second two-dimensional plane in a different place.

“Now, if one is talking about a Schwarzchild wormhole, that is what’s considered an eternal black hole, but it’d impossible to traverse from Point A to Point B because the hole would collapse too quickly to allow passage.

“But, an Einstein-Rosen bridge—” He smiled. “I’ve lost you already, haven’t I?”

Both she and Thorin nodded at the same time and Thorin said, “Do they exist and if so, how do I find the one that leads me home?”

Ian blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”

Noelle took a deep breath. “Ian, you’ve read The Hobbit, right?”

“Well, yeah… you know I have—” Ian’s eyes went wide and his mouth formed a perfect O as he looked from her to Thorin and he whispered, “Thorin Oakenshield. Of Erebor…”

“You know of me?”

Ian nodded. “I do, yes. It was one of my favorite books when I was a kid but—wait… Noe, are you fucking with me here?”

“Ian, I would never fuck with you on this scale,” she told him, glancing over at Thorin, whose expression remained neutral.

“Wait…” Ian focused on Thorin now, his eyes not quite as wide as they had been, “you think you’re Thorin Oakenshield?”

“Think it? No, I know who I am, science man. And I need you to tell me how I find the wormhole that will take me home.”

“The wormhole… Noe,” he looked back at her, “what’s going on? Why does this man think he is a dwarf created by Tolkien?”

“Because he is a dwarf created by Tolkien.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Thorin’s left hand curl into a fist, and without thinking, covered it with her hand. “Look, I know it sounds insane, Ian, but I swear to you, it’s true.”

“But, that’s not possible. Book characters don’t just fall to earth.”

“Well, wormholes connect two planes, right? And if it’s two-d to three-d, why can’t it be possible?” Noelle looked over at Thorin again, who now glowered at Ian. “I mean, he’s here, right? So it must be possible.”

“Unless he’s just insane and—”

“Insane?” Thorin slowly rose from his chair and leaned forward, fists pressed into the fake-woodgrain desktop. “Are you suggesting I am not who I say I am?”

“Thorin, stop.” Noelle grabbed the back of his coat to try to pull him back, for all the good it did. She couldn’t hold him back any more than she could hold back a tiger or a lion. It didn’t stop her from trying, but he didn’t budge an inch.

Ian leaned back in his chair. “I just… I don’t want to see Noe find herself in any danger.”

“She is in no danger from me, science man. And I assure you, I am not mad.”

Noelle got to her feet and caught Thorin’s arm to tug him away from the desk. “Sit down,” she growled, pushing him toward his chair. “This isn’t helping at all.”

Thankfully, Thorin sank back into his chair and she looked over at Ian. “Can we find a way to send him home or not?”

“I—I don’t know. In theory, yes. But… no one has ever been able to do it. It happens only in books and movies.”

“So, I might be forced to remain here?” Thorin’s voice was soft, all traces of anger replaced by hints of disbelief.

“It’s entirely possible,” Ian told him, his voice equally soft and his expression grave. “You came from a novel. A fantasy novel with magic and the like in it. But you’ve landed in a world where that is all mostly make believe and sleight of hand. Theoretically, it was possible for you to traverse a fictional wormhole here, but there isn’t a corresponding real one to get back there.”

Noelle swallowed hard as Thorin sank back in his chair, his face pale and his eyes wide. He shook his head. “I must get back. You don’t understand the importance of my returning to my world. I am needed there and if I cannot get back… No, that is not an option.”

Noelle caught Thorin’s hand, and as his fingers tightened about hers, she asked, “Ian, is there any way to create one?”

“If so, I don’t know how to do it. I could ask around, but I’d just as likely end up in Bellevue for my trouble.” He tapped his long, slender fingers against his desk. “Where did you land when you fell here, for lack of a better phrase?”

“A park. By the pond.”

“Turtle Pond over in Central Park.” Noelle supplied.

“Then that’s most likely where you’ll find the doorway back.”

“We tried it.” Noelle tried to fight down the rising disappointment. “Nothing happened.”

“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean there is no entry there, though. Maybe you need a key of some sort. Or you weren’t in exactly the right place. I have no idea how fussy wormholes can be, you know.”

“Yeah, but then, how do we know which we need or what we did wrong?��

He shook his head. “If I knew, I’d tell you, Noe. You know that.”

“So, I am trapped here. While my people try to finish an impossible quest…” Thorin’s voice was low and distant and heavy. “I need to find the way back.”

Ian pressed his fingers to his thin lips for a moment. “You could try… I don’t know if it will work, but… oh, what the hell… there’s a bookstore in the Village. Farran’s. It’s been there since the beginning of time and has a deep connection to the metaphysical world and has a huge Tolkien exhibit and section. Maybe that’s where you need to be.”

Noelle rubbed her eyes. “Where in the Village?”

“Tenth Street.”

“Is this village far from here?” Thorin asked softly, almost as if he was afraid of the answer.

Ian shook his head. “It’s not far from here. A fifteen minute cab ride from here. But, it’s closed on Mondays.”

Noelle sighed softly as she looked over at Thorin, who looked about as happy as she imagined he’d look. “We can head over there first thing tomorrow, Thorin,” she told him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Another day. I must wait another day before trying—not before going home, but before I can even try to go home.”

“But if it works, you will be home tomorrow,” Ian told him, his voice oddly gentle. So much so, Noelle looked up at him to see Ian’s expression was no longer one of disbelief but instead of empathy. He might not have believed them at first, but he certainly seemed to now.

“A small consolation. You do no understand the urgency of my situation. I must get back.”

“Is living with Noe that difficult?” Ian asked with a slight grin. “As I assume you’re staying with her.”

Thorin shook his head. “On the contrary,” he said, and Noelle’s stomach lurched at the softness in his eyes when he looked over at her and met her gaze. “She’s been patient with me, helping me navigate your world. Helping me get back to mine.”

Ian’s grin stretched into a warm smile. “She’s a good soul and you’re a lucky man to have crossed paths with her.”

Thorin’s fingers tightened about hers. “I did not cross paths with her. I was meant to find her.”

“Meant to find her?” Ian looked from him to her. “Why?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Thorin confessed. “I just know I was and for that, I will be eternally grateful, for hers is a kind heart.”

“It is and it always has been.”

“Okay, both of you stop,” she broke in as her cheeks grew warm. If she didn't know any better, she’d swear these two men—scientist and dwarf—were trying to outdo one another in their compliments of her. And while it was nice to know they both thought so highly of her, it was more than a little unsettling as well.

The whole afternoon had been somewhat unsettling, starting with Thorin’s kissing her in Central Park, followed by his holding her hand as they made their way out of the park, to his hand resting on her knee in the cab, to his giving her his ring, to now—it all unsettled her and now she thought there was a very real possibility of these two killing one another with complimenting her. It did nothing to calm her already frazzled nerves.

“We should get going, since it’s getting late.”

Thorin stood, tugging on her hand as he rose. “I thank you for your help, such as it was.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. But let me think on the Einstein-Rosen bridge and where you might find the door you need to get back to Middle Earth. If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know, Noe.”

She nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Ian. And thank you for not thinking I’m totally batshit crazy.”

“Noe, if he really is from Middle Earth, this would be an amazing find.” He lowered his voice as Thorin moved to the doorway. “Noe, do you know what this could do for me, for this department, if I can prove the existence of an Einstein-Rosen bridge between worlds of this magnitude? From a book to this world?”

“Well,” she hedged, glancing over at Thorin, “actually, he’s not book Thorin, Ian. He’s movie Thorin.”

“Movie Thorin?”

She nodded. “I know, it’s nuts, but from what I remember about the book, that Thorin was way older than this Thorin obviously is, so my guess is that he’s from the movie, not the book.”

“But… how…?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea. But, I’ll let you know what we find at Farran’s. Thank you again.”

“I’ll let you know if I figure out where else this doorway might be.”

Noelle nodded and joined Thorin at the door and her hand found its way into his. They didn't speak as they made their way back out into the cold darkness. She shivered, slipping her hand free to button her coat. “So. tomorrow, after breakfast, we’ll trek over to the Village and see what we find.”

He didn't look at all happy about the prospect. “So we can hit another dead end?”

“We have to at least try, don’t we?”

A low, growly sigh rose from his chest and he turned away to walk toward the edge of the sidewalk, where he stared down the street at bright red brake lights glowing along the roadway. The wind picked up, riffling through his dark hair to swirl it this way and that. “Thorin?”

“Is there any point to it? I came into your world in that park. Why would I think I would leave it by way of a bookseller nowhere near that same park? One in a completely different village from this?”

“I—I don’t know, but if we don’t look, we’ll never know.”

“And if we find nothing?”

“If we do, you’d be no worse off than you are now.” She crossed over to him and let her hand come to rest on his shoulder, the warmth of his body rising through the heavy wool of his pea coat. “But, what if we find the doorway, though?”

He didn't say anything, but put a hand up as a yellow cab came down the street and she managed a smile as the cab stopped. Two days in her world and he already knew how to flag down a cab. He was learning.

He held the door for her and then slid in beside her as she said, “One-ten Duane Street, Tribeca, please.”

“Thorin,” she reached over to cover his hand with hers, “we will find your way home. I promise you, we will. I’m not giving up that easily.”

He said nothing, just stared out the window as they sped along the street, but he shifted his hand to bring it palm up, laced his fingers with hers, and gave her hand a squeeze.

[monodipita]

COPE (Yandere!Getou x Reader)

Word count: 1,914

Warnings: Yandere content warning, drug-related themes (curse used as a drug)

He couldn’t cope with the rejection. You wouldn’t see Getou again—maybe weeks or months would pass of constant no-contact with him, until suddenly, your phone rang with his name as the caller ID. “I want to see you again,” he said smoothly into the phone.

This was your chance to make things right. “Yes, I’d love to. Where would you like to meet?”

”How about the usual cafe? If you remember where that’s at. I know you'd like to play with the cats and kittens. They recently told me that Narnia gave birth to some kittens a few weeks ago, and that they're already attached to the customers that come in.” The cafe that you frequented with him when you were with him. “Of course.” You responded with a small, oblivious smile pressing into your lips and cheeks. Kittens were always fun. “I’ll see you there.”

This was exciting and anxiety-inducing, wrapped into one meeting. You couldn’t wait to see how he was doing, but you were also nervous to see how he was faring after… well, after you rejected him. Your friendship was far too valuable for a relationship to come in and possibly ruin that, and plus, you were dating someone now. You just couldn’t date your best friend. You couldn’t.

You threw on something casual and nice, and began to head that way, toward the cafe. It was a cutesy cafe for cats. You always dreaded coming to this place because of your allergies, but the cats and their cute presence always made it better when you were there. After taking the subway station and hailing a cab, you were staring down the face of the building. The sign read ‘OPEN’ in large, adorable paw-print letters. You looked in through the window, but there seemed to be no sign of Getou. Curious, you step inside.

The sound of the familiar bell jingling overhead you while you stepped through the door gave you a strong sense of nostalgia. A soft, homely sigh escaped your lips and a smile spread across them. It was so long since you two last came here. If you had the gall to come here by yourself, you would’ve.

”You must be [Y/N]! Welcome, we’ve been expecting you. Right this way, please!”

You hesitantly looked up to see a smaller woman speaking to you. You nodded at her words and followed her over to a table that was already set-up. Getou sat in the seat facing the wall, with his back away from you, but you could tell it was him. That jet black mane of his, and those large ears, were unmistakable characteristics… or just characteristics you happened to associate with him. “Getou?” You called his name sweetly to call his attention, bringing another smile to raise itself on your lips. You see him turn to face you.

He’s as handsome as ever. It’s hard not to swoon at the sight of him—he always had that about him where he was so devilishly handsome. And the smile on his face was equally charming as it spread from corner to corner of his cheeks. “[Y/N], it’s good to see you,” he was relieved. He turned before he stood completely and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a tight embrace. You kissed his cheek welcomingly before pulling away and staring up at him to absorb more of his features up close, marveling in his beauty. He was so gorgeous! To go with that beautiful personality of his, he was truly the perfect man!

You pulled away and went to take your seat. The woman who lead you here was long gone by that point to go aid people who wanted to play with the cats that all lounged in the center of the beautiful cafe. Meanwhile, your eyes looked to the drink that he sipped on. “Looks good,” you hummed.

“Thank you. I got it for you.” Getou stiffly responded. You raised a brow with surprise. “You did?” You took the drink off of the table and observed the top of the cup. “What’s in this?”

”It's your favorite.” Oh… he still remembered. That was so cute. It was months ago, yes, but you truly expected him not to remember or care about what your favorite drink was. It was a kind gesture, though. You took his offer to drink it and did so. It was nice, and it made you happy.

Silence overcame the both of you. You didn't mind, though. Your eyes wandered to those who played with the kittens, primarily children. It was an adorable sight. The cafe itself wasn't packed, but it was still enough to make an introvert uncomfortable. Moments had passed when you realized that you were far too caught up in enjoying the sights, and not a word had been uttered between you two. It must've been awkward for him, right?

“So, I…” you started.

“I was hoping you could reconsider everything. About our relationship.” Getou overrode whatever you had to say. You stared at him, baffled by his words. Reconsider what? Not being in a relationship with him? “Why is that?” You asked. Getou folded his hands over his lap. His head hung a bit while his eyes lingered on the drink on the table. ”I just don’t think that there’s anyone else in this world that is worthy of being in the position to be with you,” he responded, “I don’t think anyone can protect you like I can. Like I would be able to if it was necessary for me to.”

You sat back and absorbed this information. Your eyes looked everywhere before landing back on his, and to your surprise, he was staring right back at you, as if his gaze was on you the entire time. Why were you even considering this? You had a partner.

”Getou,” you quietly cooed. “It’s a bit too late for that, now.” You assumed a worried expression. “I’m… dating someone now—“

His expression remained unchanged. “Break up with them,” he said bluntly. Your eyes widened with shock. Did he not respect what you have and what you were, now that the two of you weren’t together? “What the hell, Getou?” You furrowed your brows. “You don’t mean that—“

“I do. Break up with them.” He interrupted you.

”Did you invite me here just to say this?” You narrowed your eyes. “This isn’t funny.”

”I didn’t realize I was saying something that solicited a humorous reaction,” He was being completely serious. How terrifying. "Umm, no," you folded your arms over your chest while you glared at him. "If this is all we're going to talk about, then I'm leaving." You checked him over for any signs of a reaction before you reached down to grab your belongings. "It was nice seeing you," you said. However, Getou grabbed your wrist and squeezed it firmly, making you look up at him with an exasperated expression. "Please don't do this." You say softly. "Not in front of all of these people. Not in front of these children."

Your eyes began to feel heavy. You were beginning to feel heavy, like the world was putting all of its weight on you.

"Then I'll make it easier for us both,"

Getou stood with you, making the both of you rise. Instant attention came your way, as it often did when someone did something out of the norm. Behavior that was introduced to humans as children, where they'd watch someone walk in and out of a room. As you were older, it didn't make you any less uncomfortable. You smiled worriedly and forced yourself to grab his hand, threading your fingers together while a smug grin rested over his expression. He reached into his wallet with his free hand to produce the yen necessary to tip off the waitress who would be attending to the table, and then he began his trek away from the area. You were forced to follow him out of the cafe and into the street.

At this rate, you were depending on him to keep yourself afloat. You found yourself leaning into him and clinging to him. His hand squeezed yours, and you looked over at him. "It's just like the old days," he spoke softly, a gleam in his eye, and a smile on his face. You felt the entire opposite. "I'm feeling unwell..." you meekly coo to him, "I need to go home."

"Then I'll call a cab for you. It's the least I can do, right?" He said cheerfully. "You are going through a lot right now."

"Thank you..." you gently moved away from him. He let your hand drift away from his. You stumbled to the side, nearly into someone else. Getou pulled you back to his side, just as the person spoke up to voice their concern. "Are they okay?" They asked Getou, referring to you. He looked down at you and wrapped his arm around your body. "Feeling unwell. I'm getting a taxi, don't worry."

"Alright... well... I hope you two feel better." They say and wave their hand goodbye to you as they stepped away. You watched, feeling much like Tom while he was drunk, your eyelids lazily blinking as a car pulled up into your peripheral. Oh good, your taxi. "Thank you so much, Getou. I don't know what's come over me..." you utter.

He helps you into the taxi. You utter your thanks and focus on seating yourself and strapping yourself in. Thinking on it now, having your significant other pick you up would've been the better option, but you trusted Getou enough to help you leave.

But to your surprise, Getou gets in the car. "W-what..?" You stir from your tired state and sober up a bit to glare at him. "What's going on?"

"Did you think that I was going to let you have a say in this?" He asked you. He held his hand out to your nose and waggled his fingers in a beckoning motion. "The curse did a good job, didn't it, [Y/N]? Now I don't have to see you put up a helpless fight. You can come out now, Kiri."

You only caught a glimpse of the mischievous blob of black that resembled Kiri before your world went black.

Your eyes opened. Groggily, you rise and scratch your head. "[N]?" You call for your significant other. There was no response. This was your home, right? "Doesn't it look cozy?" That answered your question. You could see Getou emerging from around the corner. "I made sure to copy it down to the smallest detail. Anything for you and the life that we could've had together, [Y/N]."

"Could've had..?"

"I've been pining for this exact moment. To be able to finally call you mine in a house that I'll no longer be alone in!" He made his way over to the bed you laid in. You started to move away from him. "No!" You shouted at him. "Get away from me!"

"Don't deny me this moment! I have spent months, months trying to get into this exact position!" Getou snapped at you. He clambered over your body and forced you to stare into his eyes. "You don't get a say in anything. We're going to live as we should've lived. I'll take [N]'s place as your beloved. We'll live happily together, you and I."

He couldn't cope with the rejection.

[ieattaperecorders]

“I’m rambling again aren’t I?” and “Is that okay with you?” for the jmart prompt please :)

Cannon compliant, 1.4k, set at the end of S4. Prompt from here.

---

Cash only, no IDs, change directions at least twice. That was what Basira advised, so they were taking a roundabout route - train to bus to train again, a walk to another station, and then a third train to the outskirts of a town near a village near an isolated cabin. Someplace to hide.

Each time they stopped Jon would grab maps and brochures to stuff in his pockets, studying them carefully during quiet moments. Something about being prepared to act as if they were headed to a different destination if anybody asked.

Nobody did ask, and in any case Jon would have probably looked weird and suspicious, throwing in needless details about whatever place they were meant to be visiting. But it was painfully endearing, the way he poured over them, concentrating like he was prepping for an exam. One hand holding the brochure, the other usually clasped over Martin's or pawing at the fabric of his sleeve.

At one point, Jon's hand absently came to rest on Martin's knee. He flinched -- surprised at the unfamiliar contact, at the intimacy. Then he covered Jon's hand with his own, keeping careful around the edge of the wide, angry scar Jude Perry had left.

It had been so long since anyone touched Jon gently. It had been so long since anyone touched Martin at all.

* * *

There'd been a quick, fearful trip to Martin's flat so he could pack a bag. Jon barely let go of him the entire time, as if scared that he might still disappear. (Maybe he was scared. Maybe he was right to be.) He frowned when, after only a few minutes, Martin zipped up a small bag of clothes and toiletries and said that he was ready.

"You . . . may want to look around a bit," he said softly. "See if there's anything else you want to take. We might not be able to come back here."

"Thought the idea was to get in and out quickly. And shouldn't we be traveling light?"

"We can spare another minute. Besides . . . ." he bit his lip. "You might want to keep a few things. Even if they don't seem important. You may end up missing them if you lose this place."

Martin glanced around. The truth was he'd been living sparsely for a while. Bit by bit, he'd boxed up and donated most of his personal things over the last several months. It had just felt right.

(Jon's flat was long gone. He only had the small satchel he'd been carrying, and a plastic bag of thrift store clothes that Basira had gotten for him.)

He ended up grabbing a few books, a notebook he hadn't written in for a while, a couple of cheap pens, and a scarf that he'd always liked. The small carved box his grandfather had given him ages ago went in the bag too -- he'd never found anything to put in it, but he'd kept it all these years and it still smelled pleasantly like cedar.

Despite Jon's insistence they could spare another minute, he spent the entire time Martin packed bouncing restlessly on his heels, his gaze flicking back and forth between the windows.

"God, it's cold in here," he whispered.

". . . Is it?"

"Yes. Colder than outside . . . noticeably so," Jon looked at him sadly. "You can't feel it?"

Martin shook his head. He hadn't noticed.

"Suppose I'm used to it," he said.

Gravely, Jon nodded. He took Martin's hand and squeezed. Martin held back for a moment, then pointed out it was hard to pack with one hand, and Jon awkwardly let go. Another minute and they were done.

As they made for the door, Martin noticed Jon shivering and thought Basira ought to have gotten him a heavier coat.

"Hold on."

He made a detour to the closet, grabbed one of his thicker jackets and held it out. It would swim on Jon, but at least it was something.

"Dunno if it works on supernatural cold spots, but it'll be cold in Scotland too," he explained. "You'll want more than a windbreaker."

Jon stared at him for a moment, then swallowed heavily and nodded. As he put it on, folding the sleeves back so his hands would fit out, Martin noticed him wiping at his eyes.

Was he tearing up? Why? It was only a jacket, one Martin was probably going to lose anyway.

Jon held his hand all the way to the train station.

* * *

They didn't talk about the Lonely on the train. They didn't talk about any of it there, not the Institute, the entities, the attack. It was all too risky if they were overheard.

Instead, Jon talked about the places they weren't going, the things he read about as they went. Describing historical points of interest or natural features, sometimes adding a jarringly morbid fact that Martin was sure he hadn't gotten from the brochures. He suspected part of it was an attempt to engage him, as Martin found himself going long stretches saying next to nothing.

It was nice, though, listening to him chatter on as if they were out on holiday. Sitting there with the landscape going by, the rumble of the train around them and Jon talking about some landmark or another, Martin could pretend they were just out seeing the sights. Traveling on their own time, without a care in the world.

As it got late into the night, he realized the train car they were in was empty. It was the last one that ran, and there hadn't been many on it to begin with, so it wasn't much of a surprise. But with no one else there, they had a chance to speak more freely.

"Jon?" Martin nudged him, interrupting his description of a stone burial site a few miles down the line.

"Hmm?" Jon started, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"It's not that. Was just thinking . . . I know the plan is to keep moving, but we'll have to wait for the morning train anyway. Wouldn't make a difference if we got a cheap hotel room or something tonight, would it?"

"Oh . . . no, I don't think it would," he shuffled through some papers in his lap, peering at the train schedule. "Actually, in that case we may want to take the next stop, rather than going to the end of the line. There's a motel near the station that could be perfect. It's cash only, and the only security camera is over the safe."

"Did you See that?"

"Not deliberately. There's just, ah . . . " he winced, "been a lot of really gruesome murders there."

"Ah. Right." Martin raised an eyebrow. "Are we going to get gruesomely murdered if we stay there?"

"Well it's not a service they provide."

"But we do have murderers after us."

"True . . . and I don't think this place would be much protection if they caught up. But the same could be said about a bench outside the train station," Jon shrugged. "And I don't believe it's supernatural, just a bit shady. Which is probably what we want at the moment."

Martin nodded. Then, with a smirk, asked "does it have a pool?"

"Yes. And so many people have drowned in it."

". . . Hmm."

Jon's deadpan look broke into a smile. "I've no idea if there's a pool. Probably not."

"Pfff," Martin reached an arm out over his shoulders, and Jon leaned into the embrace, smiling. "The Beholding didn't think to list amenities, then? Not even an evil laundry service or, like, a continental breakfast that eats you?"

"Thankfully not."

"Good enough for me, then."

He felt Jon chuckle against him and leaned back, yawning loudly, thinking about how nice it would be to lie down in a bed. Jon shifted a little and sighed, looking at him with a smile.

"I love you," he said. Soft and warm, as if he'd said it a thousand times before. As if it was natural and obvious and easy.

Martin must have gone noticeably tense, or maybe his expression changed, because Jon's eyes widened and he looked down, fidgeting. Worried he'd made a mistake.

"Is that, ah . . . okay with you?" he added weakly.

Almost dizzy with it all, Martin let out a breath that turned into an unsteady laugh. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, and he squeezed Jon tighter.

"Y-yeah," he whispered, "yeah Jon. S'good."

[morganaspendragonss]

holly's august extravaganza day 4: a friend in me

📍 anon - I don't know but I feel like Carlos and Nancy can have such an awesome best friend dynamic. Maybe something sad/scary regarding Nancy happens where she has to make a report at the precinct and Carlos doesn't tell anyone as she made him promise so he starts to just check on Nancy and they just develop this caring, supportive, beautiful, fun, full of banter friendship to the amusement of TK and the 126.

kept this separate from your original ask because i want to keep those other prompts you sent alongside this one for later 😊

ao3 | 2k | hurt/comfort, brief references to gun violence, mostly just carlos and nancy being besties

Carlos has never seen Nancy look so small.

She’s sitting hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, hands seemingly moving of their own volition to tear the empty styrofoam cup in front of her to shreds. As soon as Carlos had seen her being escorted into the precinct, shaking like a leaf and clutching her coat like a lifeline, he’d persuaded the officer with her to let him take over the case. His association with the 126 is well known so the officer had been reluctant, but Carlos had managed to wear him down, saying that he doesn’t really know Nancy that well.

And it’s—it’s not exactly a full lie. Through their hangs and TK’s stories, he’s coming to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But of her personal life, Carlos knows next to nothing; she mentioned a sister a few weeks ago, and TK delights in teasing her about her growing crush on Marjan, but that’s about it.

He needs to make more of an effort, he decides. When they’re anywhere else but a police station.

Carlos knocks lightly on the door to announce his presence before entering the room, sending her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Nancy visibly relaxes at the sight of him and she drops the remains of her cup, though Carlos doesn’t miss the continuing tremble to her hands.

“Hey Nancy,” he says, sliding into the seat opposite her. “How are you doing?”

Nancy’s lips twitch, the corners barely curving into the beginnings of a wry smile. She breathes out shakily, meeting Carlos’s eyes for the briefest second before staring back down at the table. “I’m not great,” she answers, and for her to admit to that… Well, Carlos suspects it’s not a regular occurrence.

He nods, reluctantly pulling out his notebook and pen, hesitating before flipping to the next blank page. Nancy tracks his movements, resignation clearly etched all over her features. Carlos glances at the two-way mirror—not that it does him any good—then reaches across the table to take Nancy’s hand.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he murmurs. “If you need more time, just say the word and I’ll leave. Or if you’d prefer to talk to someone you don’t know, we can do that too. Anything you need.”

The sudden tightness of Nancy’s grip is unexpected, as is the flash of panic in her eyes.

“Please, don’t go,” she whispers. “I don’t—” She cuts herself off, shutting her eyes and breathing slowly for a few seconds. Slowly, her hold on Carlos begins to loosen until her hand is slack in his, then she draws both hands into her lap and straightens in her chair. When her eyes reopen, she seems more like the Nancy Carlos knows—strong, confident, assertive—though there’s still clearly an undercurrent of fear underneath it all.

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

Carlos bites back an are you sure and settles for clicking his pen, his smile unwavering. “Can you run me through what happened, exactly?” he asks. “Take your time.”

A second or two passes, then Nancy nods, her voice steady when she speaks. “I was restocking the bus at the end of shift. I was alone; Captain Vega was in her office and TK was with the others in the showers—he did try to help but he’d had to go into a fire on our last call to help a patient and the smell of smoke was giving me a headache, so I told him to go.”

Carlos pauses in his note-taking, mentally filing that last piece of information away for follow-up as soon as he sees his boyfriend again. Judging by the amused quirk to Nancy’s eyebrow, she’s fully aware of where his mind has gone, so Carlos clears his throat and motions for her to continue, forcing his thoughts back to the present.

“Like I said, I was alone. I didn’t mind it; it was kind of relaxing, you know? Then this guy appeared from nowhere and pointed a gun at me, saying if I called out or turned on the siren or anything, he’d shoot. I thought—” She inhales sharply, her knuckles going white on the tabletop and her jaw clenching tightly. Her voice sounds different when she next speaks, more controlled, as though forcing each word out. “I thought it was happening again. I thought he was going to take me somewhere, make me his personal pet paramedic, something like that.

“Turns out, he just wanted drugs. I gave him what we had on the rig and he seemed satisfied, so I figured he’d shoot me anyway ‘cause I’d seen his face, right? He didn’t—obviously—but it looked like he was considering it.” Nancy pauses and flicks her gaze up at Carlos, biting her lip. “I think he might have done it,” she admits quietly, “but he got spooked by one of the guys making noise so he just bolted. I’m not sure how long it was between that and TK coming back and finding me. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head. “It’s okay. We can check the cameras at the station. With luck, that should get us an ID, maybe a license plate if he drove. I think that’s almost everything; just one more question, if that’s okay. Can you tell me what you gave him exactly?”

Nancy nods. “Morphine, Ativan, tramadol… I’d have to check stocks for the exact amounts.”

“We’ll do that, don’t worry about it.” Carlos taps his pen on the pages before flipping his notebook shut and leaning across the table again. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Speaking as a friend and not a cop, if there’s anything you need, anything I can help with, let me know.”

She smiles wanly. “I’m okay. I just want to go home and forget all this ever happened.”

“Fair enough. I’ll walk you out to your car.”

Carlos half-expects her to brush him off, but she just nods and allows him to escort her back through the precinct and out to her car. He dithers awkwardly, shuffling his feet as Nancy turns to him, one hand on the door handle.

“Thank you, Carlos. For real. I have the feeling it wasn't a coincidence that you were the one in that room with me.”

The tips of Carlos’s ears go pink as he finds himself caught out. “That, uh… That would not be inaccurate.”

“Well, thanks.” She pulls open the car door and Carlos takes a step back, wanting to wait until she’s safely away to go back inside. Nancy ducks as if to get in, then pauses and straightens again, biting her lip as she looks back at him.

“Hey, Carlos?” she says. “Can you do me a favour and not tell the others? Not even TK. They— They know vaguely what happened, but I’d prefer it if the details and, uh, some of the other stuff I told you could be kept between us.”

He agrees immediately, just grateful that she trusts him enough to handle this for her. “No-one will know any more than they need to,” he promises, which seems to relieve her. She thanks him again, then gets in the car and drives away, Carlos watching after her with one hand raised in farewell.

*

It grows from there.

It’s not intentional exactly, but one text to check up on her soon turns into a steady stream of messages, stories and jokes and even the occasional meme passing back and forth between them. Carlos especially appreciated Nancy's carefully curated collection of dirt on TK, which, as a concerned boyfriend, it is his duty to know. Many a conversation has been spent griping about TK's accident prone ways or sighing over his latest mishap.

Lovingly, of course.

Nancy, 15.48: you’ll never guess what happened this time

Carlos, 16.22: ?

In answer, he receives a picture of a dejected-looking TK sprawled on the floor with Buttercup’s front paws squarely resting on his chest. Buttercup’s tongue is lolling out, a wide grin on his face, and in the background stand the rest of the crew. All of them also seem to have their phones pointed towards TK—probably the reason TK looks so down, as Carlos knows his boyfriend couldn’t be upset with Buttercup to save his life.

Nancy, 16.26: he thought he’d try to teach buttercup some tricks. turns out, dog trainers exist for a reason

Carlos has to stifle a laugh—technically, he is supposed to be working—but his attempt at being subtle is thwarted when his phone repeatedly pings with similar texts and photos from Paul, Marjan, and Mateo. He screenshots the sudden influx of notifications and sends it to Nancy before saving every single photo.

Nancy responds with a laughing emoji and a promise to keep him updated.

*

Not all of their conversations are about TK, naturally.

Carlos, 19.10: I don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her

Nancy, 19.12: i do talk to her. every shift, actually

Carlos, 19.13: Nancy

Nancy, 19.13: carlos

Nancy, 19.14: i don’t even know if she’s into women, alright? it’s not like i can just march up and ask, that’s like waving a banner saying ‘hey, i’m in love with you’ in her face

Carlos, 19.16: Oh, we’re talking about love now, are we?

Nancy, 19.17: can it, reyes

Carlos, 19.20: Noted. Look, take it from someone who’s been navigating gay relationships in Texas his whole life. Sometimes you just have to go for it. Ask her for coffee, test the waters, see where it leads. You never know, it might work out. I mean, look at me

Nancy, 19.24: wow, way to rub your happiness in my face 😑

(Carlos doesn’t find out if she follows his advice, but he does notice her and Marjan showing up to their hangs together)

(Nancy does not appreciate his smugness)

*

Without even realising, they become a formidable team. This fact is highlighted one game night about three months after the incident, when Nancy and Marjan blow into his and TK’s house, a determined glint in both their eyes.

“We’re switching up the teams,” Marjan declares, much to TK’s outrage.

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Nancy continues, “we’re tired of losing to you guys. You’re like, freakishly good at board games and it’s not fair. Plus, we have to watch you both being all lovey all the time when you’re on the same team and it’s exhausting. We want to see you being competitive for once.”

TK pouts, but Carlos just shrugs when he looks to him for backup. “It’ll be fun,” he says, smiling at Nancy and Marjan. TK still looks put out, so he leans in close and half-murmurs, “C’mon babe. How about a prize for the winner?”

TK perks up considerably at the suggestion, and, going by the twin looks of despair on Nancy and Marjan’s faces, they caught both the comment and the innuendo. Marjan groans and Nancy raises her eyes skyward, as if pleading for divine intervention.

“This was a great idea, actually,” TK says, grinning. He quirks an eyebrow at Nancy. “You and me, Nance?”

That seems to shake Nancy out of her silent prayers for strength. “Uh, no. I’m with Carlos.” To emphasise the point, she strides forward and grabs Carlos’s arm, dragging him to the couch. He nudges her gently when they sit, smirking at the disgruntled way she digs into the snack bowl.

“You did say you wanted to see us being competitive.”

“Shut up.”

*

In the end, TK ends up paired with Mateo, and Marjan with Paul. It’s clear from the outset who’s going to win—Nancy and Carlos dominate the board, and not even Paul’s master strategy is enough to catch up with them.

They win by a comfortable margin, fist-bumping in celebration. There’s a general air of bemusement in the room, and when Carlos looks round at the others, he finds four pairs of eyes fixed on them.

“What?”

“Since when have you two been such a good team?” Paul asks, leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow.

Carlos shrugs, sharing a smile with Nancy. “Guess we just are.”

[tenthgrove]

SorLato Week- Day 1

(A/N: Unfortunately this may be my only entry for SorLato week, going for the first time NSFW prompt. I tried to write for the other days but never got around to it. I may try to get another prompt done later on in the week but no guarantees. In the meantime, enjoy this total smut)

NSFW 18+

The small French town, somewhere in the vicinity of the Italian Border, does not have much of a night life. It’s population is old and, even at this early time of night, largely asleep.

A notable exception to this rule, is the two young men who roam the empty street of the shopping quarter hand in hand. It should be noted however, that neither of these men are aware that they are in a small French town somewhere in the vicinity of the Italian Border, because neither of them were awake for a majority of the bus journey they picked at random to get here. Well and truly, these young men are lost.

“Sorbet, where the hell are we?” one of them asks, looking up at his companion, whose breath becomes mist in the autumn air.

“To be perfectly honest Gelato I haven’t the faintest clue. Though I will say that the French sound a lot more French-like here than they did where we were this morning, so I gather we were travelling away from the border.”

“Figures,” Gelato responds. He wavers on his feet, though how likely it is he would have fallen over entirely were it not for his boyfriend’s grip is hard to tell. “Sorbet, I’m tired,” he complains.

“I can tell,” Sorbet notes, glancing at his watch. “I suppose it is time we found a place for the night. How about we find a hotel for a change? We certainly have the money for it.”

Gelato clicks his tongue.

“Who knew handing down a beat-down would pay so well?”

“I did, Gelato,” Sorbet smirks. “It was my job for over a year, remember?”

The pair spot the flickering lights of a small, unbranded hotel at the end of the street. They start towards it eagerly.

“Think they’ll want ID?” Gelato asks.

“Probably not. The unbranded ones don’t usually.”

“Fuck yes, an actual bed!” rejoices Gelato. Sorbet squeezes his hand in acknowledgment and smiles.

It is exactly 5 minutes later that the lovers find themselves alone in a rather dire looking reception, sans even the young receptionist, who has gone into the backroom to look for a room to give them.

“I beg your pardon,” she begins, returning to the pair. “But all we have left tonight are couples’ rooms. Would-”

“We don’t mind!” Gelato interrupts her a little too eagerly. She takes a good look at Sorbet, a good look at Gelato, and it seems to click for her. She puts a key on the desk.

“Alright then, 20 euros please.”

“Thanks. We won’t be staying for breakfast,” Sorbet informs her, sliding over the money. “And if anyone calls, we’re not here.”

“Noted, enjoy your stay,” the receptionist says. Gelato waves her goodbye and the couple depart for their rooms.

It is roughly another 10 minutes after that, that Sorbet finds himself sitting alone on the bed as Gelato tries his luck with the shower. This is followed, quite predictively, with the sound of screaming.

“There’s no hot water!” Gelato screeches. Sorbet chuckles lightly.

“I did warn you this was hardly a 5 star hotel, darling.”

“Sorbet I’m cold!” Gelato whines.

“Then come back to me darling. Let me warm you up.”

Gelato wastes no time in hurrying back out the bathroom, clad in nothing but his underwear, and throwing himself at his boyfriend.

“My poor darling,” Sorbet tuts, rubbing his arm soothingly. He presses a kiss to his Sorbet’s temple and laughs, teasingly.

“You’re so mean to me,” Gelato complains. Sorbet isn’t fooled. He sees the blond’s little smile.

“Oh, I’m downright evil, aren’t I?”

Gelato’s eyes suddenly go a bit wide. He perks up, settling his hands on Sorbet’s shoulders as he straddles his lap.

“Sorbet, you evil, malicious thing? When are you going to have sex with me?” he asks.

Sorbet coughs.

“Sex?”

“I’m just wondering, is all. This isn’t the first time you’ve held me like this, and to be perfectly honest it kind of makes me sad it never goes anywhere,” Gelato teases, touching his nose against Sorbet’s.

“I suppose the opportunity never presented itself, did it?” Sorbet comments. He’s trying to play it calmly, but Gelato can see how flustered he is. “D-does this turn you on?”

“Maybe. Is this an opportunity?”

Sorbet looks at the man in his arms. The beautiful, gorgeous creature he’s crossed a country with for the last month and a half, whose life he would lay his own down for in a heartbeat. He looks at the soft, blemished skin, the bare chest he’s touched so many times but never done more with, the messy, curled hair he strokes whenever his anxieties hit him. Sorbet comes to a decision.

“I don’t see why it can’t be.”

Gelato makes a little noise of excitement and dives in, pressing merciless kisses all over Sorbet’s lips. Sorbet does his best to keep up, but deep down he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. Not when his boyfriend is this eager to claim him.

“Fuck, you’re eager aren’t you?”

“How can I not be?” Gelato giggles. He pulls back with an air-headed smile. “So,” he begins. “What do we actually do?”

“We follow our instincts, I suppose,” Sorbet answers him, giving his hips a little squeeze.

“Yeah, okay. But you do actually know what to do, right?” Gelato checks.

“I know what I’ve heard, I’ll say that much.”

Gelato looks at him with shock.

“But- I’m not your first boyfriend right? There were others?”

“There were, but I never slept with any of them,” Sorbet admits. “I felt too… vulnerable, with them.”

“Oh,” Gelato enunciates. “So if you haven’t done if before, and I haven’t done it before… how do we figure this out?” he asks.

“Well, as I said before, I suppose we just go with what our instincts tell us,” Sorbet suggests, pecking him reassuringly on the nose. As Gelato watches, he unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, leaning in again to kiss him once more. His hand drifts to the inner part of Gelato’s thigh. “How about I start with touching you? Down here, I mean?”

“That would be fine by me,” Gelato answers breathlessly.

Sorbet slips a hand past the elastic of Gelato’s underwear and paws gently at what he finds. Taking hold, he begins to stroke it gently.

Gelato’s sex drive didn’t suddenly jump into existence when he met Sorbet. He’s touched himself before and liked it, but that doesn’t change the fact it feels so much sweeter when Sorbet does it for him. Already, he’s biting back the urge to moan.

“Does it feel good?” Sorbet checks.

“Mm. Can I- return the favour?”

“By all means.”

Gelato eagerly fumbles with Sorbet’s zipper and undoes his pants and underwear. Sorbet isn’t quite, hard yet, but he’s getting there. Regardless, Gelato thinks he can help him along. He takes hold of the thick shaft and strokes it roughly. He knows this isn’t exactly a competition, but he wants to win regardless.

“Fuck, just like that,” Sorbet praises him. “That’s just perfect.”

“My brain is telling me to put it in my mouth, should I do it?”

“If you want to, go ahead,” Sorbet permits. “Just watch your teeth and don’t push yourself, or you will retch.”

“I know what to do,” Gelato tuts, getting down on his elbows. “You wouldn’t believe some of the shit you overhear working in a bar.”

“Is that so?” Sorbet smirks. “Well, by all means enjoy yourself then.”

Gelato wastes no time. He sticks the tip into his mouth and starts to lick roughly, closing his lips around the first couple inches off the shaft as he uses his hands to keep the rest occupied. He mildly regrets that this position doesn’t allow Sorbet to get him off as well, but he’s too turned on by his current activities to care for the time being. Gelato swallows about another inch, so that the tip presses against the upper far edge of his mouth. He isn’t quite brave enough to push it any further, but Sorbet seems happy enough, so he’ll settle for this.

Gelato licks and sucks at Sorbet’s cock until his tongue starts to go numb. He starts to wonder how much longer this is meant to last, until Sorbet places a hand on his cheek to stop him.

“I don’t imagine you’d enjoy it very much if I shot down your throat just yet, so how about we save that for another time?”

Gelato pulls himself off, gulping strongly to try and return some feeling of normalcy to his mouth.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best,” Gelato agrees. “So what next? We fuck for real?”

“I suppose so. Would you rather top of bottom?” Sorbet offers him.

“Do what now?”

“Fuck or get fucked.”

“Uhh, get fucked. Having you inside me sounds hot as hell,” Gelato decides.

“Alright, I’m good with that. I’d think I’d prefer to top, so it works well,” Sorbet accepts. He pauses. He suddenly curses as though having realised something. “We don’t have lube. We can’t have sex without lube.”

“Sure we can!” Gelato insists.

“Gel, you will bleed, and you will cry, and you will hate me. We aren’t having sex without lube.”

“Fine,” Gelato concedes. “I’ll see what’s in the bathroom.”

Gelato disappears into the side room and Sorbet hears the sound of rummaging. Something makes him pause.

"Holy fuck I found some!"

"Really?" Sorbet asks.

"Yeah, there's a bottle in the bin, they must have forgotten to change it. There's still some inside!" Gelato affirms. Sorbet chuckles.

"I would normally be concerned about the hygienic implications of that, but fortunately for you I am very horny. We'll give it a shot."

“Right, let’s try this,” Gelato mutters excitedly, returning to the bedroom. Sorbet takes the cue to wriggle out of his pants. He takes Gelato’s hand as he sits beside him.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

“Not sure. But I want to kiss you lots.”

“In my lap then?” Sorbet suggests. “It’s probably best if you control the pace anyway.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gelato says, straddling Sorbet’s hips once more. He pours the lubricant awkwardly onto them both. He grabs both of Sorbet’s hands, and pauses.

“I’ll admit… I’m kind of nervous,” he confesses.

“You’ll be fine, just don’t push yourself,” Sorbet assures him. “But if you need to stop at any time, just say so. I’ll understand.”

“Okay. ‘Love you,” Gelato mutters.

“I love you too,” Sorbet smiles. They both lean forward. They kiss, and Gelato allows himself to sink down.

There’s an immediate tension in Gelato’s body the moment Sorbet enters him. He lets out a little noise of shock, or maybe pain, before settling his head on Sorbet’s shoulder. His boyfriend pets him reassuringly.

“Gel, are you alright?” Sorbet checks. Gelato nods. “Does it hurt?” Another nod. “We can stop if you want. We can always try again another day.”

“No,” Gelato insists, meeting his eyes again. “I can do this. I want to do this,” he promises. “I just- can’t move.”

“I can take over, if you’d like,” Sorbet offers. Gelato nods. “Alright, I’m just going to lie you down gently,” Sorbet explains, before putting an arm around Gelato’s back and carefully laying him down on the mattress, positioning himself over him. “There, shall I try moving now?”

“Please.”

Sorbet begins to gently thrust the first few inches of himself back and forth inside Gelato, the blond grunting slightly as he adjusts to the stretch. After the first few movements, his body relaxes, and all other signs of pain disappear. He eyes Sorbet with a look of relief.

“How does it feel?” Sorbet asks.

“Kind of neutral, now? Doesn’t hurt any more but it doesn’t really feel strongly in any other way? If that makes sense? Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise! It’s important you’re honest with me. It might not feel good yet because I’m not very deep in. I think the spot I’m looking for is further up. Mind if I try and find it?” Sorbet offers. Gelato is quick to accept. Sorbet slowly pushes the rest of his length through Gelato’s entrance and the blond feels the difference at once. He moans, stretching his legs and rolling back his head as he grips Sorbet’s hands for dear life.

“Oh god, you’ve found it. Right there, just keep doing that,” he pleads. Sorbet just can’t help but chuckle.

“Anything you say, darling.”

The next few minutes go by in a whirlwind of bliss. Gelato quickly gives up on any hint of dignity as he moans without care, and even Sorbet feels his grip on control start to fade. They start to forget that there’s anyone else in the world except themselves, and each other.

It occurs to Sorbet he probably can’t hold it much longer without cumming. Eager not to leave Gelato unfinished, he starts to rapidly pump Gelato’s cock to spur on his climax. A moment later and they’re both spent, lying in a breathless heap on top of each other as Gelato feels his insides becoming filled.

Sorbet kisses Gelato on the forehead, then climbs off of him. Excusing himself, he heads into the bathroom for a drink. He hears his lover calling to him.

“Sorbet, my legs aren’t working!”

“Just stay there my love,” Sorbet says mirthfully. “I’ll clean you with a towel, and you can wash properly in the morning.” He returns to his side with the promised item. “Hey, you did wonderful,” he assures him. He leans in close as though to kiss him again, but Gelato gets their first and nips his lip.

“You know what you’ve done now, don’t you,” Gelato smiles.

“Oh? you’ll have to tell me.”

“I’m going to need that every night now, otherwise I’ll be unbearably needy.”

Sorbet tuts.

“However will I survive?”

Their lips meet once more.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 6, Part 1

Downstar announces she is expecting kits.

[Image ID: Downstar sits in the center of the screen. Underneath her, it reads + CONDITION: PREGNANT. Six dialogue boxes surround her, saying the following: “Congratulations, Downstar!” “Are you sure you can keep working?” “Great. More kits.” “Wait, who’s the sire?” “Oilpaw, you can’t ask someone who their sire is.” “What about my training?”]

Downstar could feel the approach of snow in the clouds above. Despite sunhigh sending all of RippleClan into their dens for a midday nap, Downstar couldn’t help but feel alive as she looked over the Clan from the medicine den. What would her new home look like covered in snow? Would the ocean send a wicked chill over the area, or would their makeshift dens keep them warm? Downstar still had friends in the other Clans, they gave her advice on tanning the hides of prey and turning them into warm flooring or something to stick to the wall, but RippleClan needed its own artisan to learn these things, not a leader playing pretend. And now, with everything Downstar had to do… she prayed she made the right choice.

“You can wait to announce it,” Fennelspot said. He startled Downstar by appearing behind her.

“No, this is good news,” Downstar said, steadying herself. “We could use something to fight off the winter lethargy.” 

“No, I mean wait until sunhigh passes,” Fennelspot groaned, peering at the cloudy sky. “Everyone’s asleep.”

“It’s fine,” Downstar said with a bit more confidence. She brushed her tail down Fennelspot’s shoulder. She jogged out of the medicine den and leaped onto the Shiprock.

“Everyone,” Downstar called, “gather below the Shiprock for a Clan meeting!” It took a minute for anyone to leave their dens. Carnationpaw stared at her leader and mentor with sleep dragging her eyes shut. Weedfoot nudged Rustshade and Scrubmask into the open. Carnationpaw had to drag Oilpaw out of her nest.

“I’m tired,” Oilpaw groaned. “It’s cold. Why are we meeting now?”

“I know, I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t wait to make this announcement,” Downstar chirped. She glanced toward the elder’s den. Puddlespeckle did not appear.

“Good news or bad news?” Scrubmask asked, gently cocking her head.

“Excellent news,” Downstar purred. “I know our numbers are small. I wish more of our friends had joined us in founding RippleClan, but I wouldn’t trade a single one of you. Still, our numbers need to grow. I am pleased to announce that I am expecting kits!” Downstar brushed her tail over her belly. RippleClan’s eyes sparkled as they locked in on Downstar’s stomach. 

Weedfoot was the first to break the silence. She laughed, with half of the laugh taken up in a purr. She climbed the Shiprock and pressed against Downstar so hard, the tortoiseshell leader thought her deputy would knock her off.

“Congratulations, Downstar!” Weedfoot cheered. “I… oh StarClan, babies! Can, can I…” Weedfoot reached a paw to Downstar’s belly.

“You may not feel much,” Downstar laughed, but she let her friend touch her belly. Weedfoot purred and nuzzled the life growing inside Downstar like she was her mate.

“Great,” Scrubmask said. “More kits.” Downstar could never tell when Scrubmask was being sarcastic or genuine, but she chose to believe she was genuine this time around. 

“Are you sure you can keep working?” Rustshade asked as Downstar hopped off the Shiprock with Weedfoot. The ginger tom approached Downstar like she was a cougar. There was a strange shift in his eyes Downstar couldn’t fully place.

“I’ll be fine, Rustshade,” Downstar purred. “Fennelspot will keep an eye on me.” Fennelspot nodded fervently, standing beside Downstar. 

“Wait,” Oilpaw said, cocking her head, “who’s the sire?” The fur on everyone’s pelts prickled.

“Oilpaw, you can’t ask someone who their sire is,” Fennelspot growled. He stepped in front of Downstar with a hard glare. 

“I know she doesn’t have to answer,” Oilpaw gulped, eyes bouncing around the Clan, “but she doesn’t have to stay silent either. I was just curious.” Oilpaw rubbed a paw into the sand.

“Can you tell me about the Code of Kits & Queens?” Weedfoot asked gently. She joined Oilpaw’s side and rested her tail on her apprentice’s.

“No cat can put a kit in danger or look away when they are,” Oilpaw recited. She stared at Downstar’s belly when she spoke. “A kit’s origins may not be questioned. It is up to the parent to declare parentage, and they cannot be forced to do so. All kits are welcomed into a Clan as full-blooded Clanmates.”

“Why do we have this law?” Weedfoot asked.

“Because LynxClan killed the half-Clan kits of one of their artisans and gave her the dishonor title of Thornheart,” Oilpaw mumbled, “to remind her how her love caused pain.” Oilpaw’s ears dropped and she bowed her head.

“And it allows diverse blood into the Clan,” Fennelspot huffed. “If a molly wants to mate with an outsider for the sake of supplying kits for the Clan, they may do so and will not be shamed. If Downstar wanted to reveal the sire, she would have.”

“Sorry,” Oilpaw sighed. Downstar approached Oilpaw and groomed her ear.

“You’re forgiven,” Downstar chuckled. “I’ll need a good kitsitter once they’re born. Are you up to the task?” Oilpaw nodded, earning a chuckle from her father and mentor.

“What about my training?” a meek voice asked. Carnationpaw lurked at the edge of the group, watching Downstar with wide eyes. “How can you be my mentor if you’re resting in the nursery?” 

“It’s alright,” Downstar insisted. “There’s a lot we can do while I recover. And you’ll be able to join Rustshade and Fennelspot on their patrols.” Downstar tried to rest her tail over Carnationpaw’s back, but the long-furred molly moved just before Downstar could.

“I’m happy for you, Downstar,” Carnationpaw said softly. “Would you like me to prepare the oven?” She stared at the large stone structure while Downstar’s skin squirmed.

“Good idea, Carnationpaw,” Weedfoot said. “I think we’re all hungry.” She led the young apprentice up to the oven. Weedfoot glanced back at Downstar, but all the leader could do was stare at Carnationpaw and think.

(Downstar: 65, female, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Fennelspot: 63, male, insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Weedfoot: 55, female, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Scrubmask: 23, female, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

(Rustshade: 63, male, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Oilpaw: 10, female, charismatic, morbidly curious)

(Carnationpaw: 8, female, compassionate, splashes in puddles)

[Image ID: Rustshade overlooks four newborn kits. From left to right, each kit has text under them reading NEW PLAYER: LOCUSTKIT, MALE, TROUBLESOME: NEW PLAYER: BURDOCKKIT, MALE, BOSSY; NEW PLAYER: CLAMKIT, FEMALE, LONESOME; and NEW PLAYER: TWINEKIT, FEMALE, NOISY)

---

Just two days after Downstar’s announcement, the clouds broke and snow covered the Clans like the sky was shedding its fur. The ocean growled beyond the camp as snow weighed on the shipwreck. Snow replaced sand and buried the roof of the medicine den. The hissing wind lulled the Clan to sleep like a queen’s gentle purrs. No one worried about guarding the entrance; who would try to strike in such brutal weather? 

A small fire crackled just outside the warrior’s den, where the entire Clan huddled through the cold night. There weren’t enough of them to justify more than one fire. It was something of a treat for the apprentices, who wouldn’t move into the den for at least a few moons, but Oilpaw couldn’t sleep.

She and Carnationpaw shared a nest near the edge of the group, huddled together to stay warm through the storm, but Oilpaw could only lay with her eyes open, half-pressed into a mouse pelt Carnationpaw brought from the apprentice’s den. Her tail twitched as she tried to force sleep to visit once more.

“I’m done with this,” Oilpaw grumbled under her breath. She carefully detached herself from Carnationpaw and looked over the sleeping Clan. Downstar and Fennelspot shared one nest, while Scrubmask, Weedfoot, and Puddlespeckle huddled beside one another. Rustshade was supposed to be in Downstar’s nest, but his scent had faded; he hadn’t been in the nest for a while.

Oilpaw stepped around her Clanmates and grew closer to the fire. The fire has grown weak as the night progressed and the snow closed in. Oilpaw blew on the coals and the light flared. The fire illuminated the faint pawprints leading out of the warrior’s den and to the camp exit, not the dirt place like Oilpaw expected. Oilpaw trudged to the exit as snow bit her eyes. Rustshade’s prints led toward the human settlements in the southwest; WheatClan territory.

“Dad?” Oilpaw called meekly. The wind stole her voice. She shook the cold out of her paws, steadied her will, and followed the fading trail south. Something outside her mind urged her paws on. Call it curiosity, call it a push from StarClan, whatever you want, but Oilpaw had to follow the trail, even as her nose grew cold and snowflakes clung to her whiskers.

She found him by the edge of the trees, a stark ginger figure among the brown bark and white snow. Rustshade had his back to Oilpaw and stared deeper into the forest. Somewhere beyond the trees, WheatClan tended the land that would eventually pool with a few special crops overflowing from the human territories. Somewhere out there were distant relations Oilpaw could barely remember. Somewhere out there was Rustshade’s past.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Oilpaw yowled over the wind. Rustshade’s head snapped around. Wide and wild heather eyes dug into Oilpaw. Rustshade shifted just enough for Oilpaw to see what rested at his paws. 

Four kits, about as long as Rustshade’s leg, squirmed together in the snow. Their claws, unable to retract, caught clumps as they wobbled about. Big blue eyes, only half-able to see, clung to Rustshade and to one another. They were diverse in color—golden, sandy, dark red, lilac—but all clearly littermates. That was as apparent as the sharp, shattering expression on Rustshade’s face.

“Dad…” Oilpaw gulped, “who are they?” She stayed where she was and held Rustshade’s attention. For a few moments, it was like they were the only ones standing in the snow, with nothing but bitter wind between them.

“They can’t walk far,” Rustshade finally said. “If you’re careful, you can carry two at once.”

“Dad, who are they?” Oilpaw said with more force.

“Oilpaw, do as I say!” Rustshade hissed. He snatched the dark red and lilac kits’ scruffs. The dark red one, a tom, looked just like Rustshade, but without the paler sheen.

“Oilpaw do say,” the dark red kit chirped, even as he shivered. Something about that simple command from a kit that wasn’t even a moon old, who still had the deep blue eyes of a newborn and the unsheathed claws that marked his age, flung Oilpaw from the storm of swirling thoughts back to that of swirling snow.

Oilpaw raced to the other two kits, a sandy-colored tom and a golden molly, and copied the way her father carried two scruffs in his mouth at once. Oilpaw was certain one of them would fall out, but they stayed still. A familar scent wafted off their pelts. As soon as Oilpaw had the two kits, Rustshade took off. Oilpaw kicked up snow behind her and burned her legs trying to keep up.

The father/daughter duo were back in camp in a few moments. Rustshade went straight to the warrior’s den, silent as ever, and Oilpaw followed. Rustshade placed his two kits on a velvety soft vole pelt Weedfoot scored from LynxClan trade. Rustshade dragged a nest close to the fire and placed the kits in it beside him. He settled them by his belly. Oilpaw instinctively put the other two there as well. The lilac kitten, half-asleep, squealed when her brother settled next to her. She wrapped her tiny limbs around the sandy tom, who was already dozing off.

“Can’t an elder get any sleep?” Puddlespeckle grumbled. He lifted his head and his sleepy eyes settled on the kits. 

“Hi!” the dark red tom called. Rustshade shushed him and nudged him toward his quiet golden sister. 

The simple greeting woke the entire Clan. Slowly, everyone’s eyes settled on the strangers at Rustshade’s belly. Weedfoot pulled herself out from under Scrubmask and sat next to Rustshade. All of RippleClan scooted closer. Oilpaw found herself shoved beside her father as Downstar cast a long shadow through the den. The glow of the fire made her eyes glimmer.

“Is no one going to ask him where he got these four?” Oilpaw finally snapped. “I… Dad did you steal these guys?”

“Do you really believe I would do that?” Rustshade grunted.

“We all know you didn’t give birth to them,” Oilpaw scoffed.

“He didn’t steal them,” Weedfoot said softly. She crouched to the kits’ level. With the warmth of the den and the fire, even the chatty red tom was asleep. “What are their names?”

“The red one is Burdockkit,” Rustshade explained quietly, with a tenderness to his voice Oilpaw only remembered from her few moons in WheatClan. “The sandy tom is Locustkit, and the kit keeping him trapped is Twinekit. Clamkit is the runt.” The Code of Kits & Queens rang through Oilpaw’s head as everyone examined the new additions to the Clan. StarClan, if there was ever a time to break the code…

“How old are they?” Carnationpaw asked, peeking out from behind Puddlespeckle.

“A little under a moon old,” Rustshade purred. 

“StarClan, Rustshade, these kits can’t eat prey yet!” Puddlespeckle groaned. “Fennelspot, you’ve been working on pottery, haven’t you? Tell me we’ve got a pot for the oven.”

“Bubblemoon gave me a small one when we spoke at StarClan’s Shrine,” Fennelspot gulped, glancing at the medicine den across camp.

“Well, grab it!” Puddlespeckle snapped. He shoved Fennelspot out of the den. “These kits are cold and hungry. Carnationpaw, you’re a little fire starter, aren’t you? Get the oven on. We’re making kitten soup.” Carnationpaw looked to Downstar, and the tortie leader nodded. Carnationpaw hurried to the storage den within the shipwreck where she could find dry materials to light the fire.

“What’s kitten soup?” Oilpaw asked.

“An old AshClan recipe for kits who haven’t been weaned,” Puddlespeckle huffed. “You take some prey juice, boil it with water, and soak some moss in it. The little mouse-brains think it’s their mother half the time and drink it up. It’s nothing compared to milk, but if you don’t have a molly who can nurse, it’s the best you can do.”

“You would need fresh prey, right?” Scrubmask said. “I’ll catch something.” The quiet molly vanished from camp before anyone could agree with her idea.

“How do you know this recipe, Father?” Weedfoot asked.

“How do you think we fed you when your mother died?” Puddlespeckle scoffed. He turned to Rustshade and added, “You keep those kits warm, you WheatClan reject.” Puddlespeckle hurried outside as Fennelspot dragged the oven pot toward Carnationpaw.

“I suppose we’re starting our day early,” Downstar chuckled. She touched her nose to Rustshade’s head and said, “Congratulations, Rustshade. Oilpaw, go check on the nursery. Make sure it’s ready for our new guests.” 

Oilpaw couldn’t be happier to get away from the half-grown masses at her father’s side. Maybe the rest of RippleClan recognized the scent, maybe they didn’t. Weedfoot knew, Oilpaw was certain of it, the look in her eyes when she saw those kits was ripe with unknown conversations and unclear truth. Oilpaw knew where these kits came from. She knew it as well as she knew her own pelt.

They were her mother’s kits.

(Oilpaw: 10, female, charismatic, morbidly curious)

(Rustshade: 63, male, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Burdockkit: 0, male, bossy)

(Locustkit: 0, male, troublesome)

(Twinekit: 0, female, noisy)

(Clamkit: 0, female, lonesome)

(Puddlespeckle: 132, male, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)

(Fennelspot: 63, male, insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Weedfoot: 55, female, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Scrubmask: 23, female, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

(Carnationpaw: 8, female, compassionate, splashes in puddles)

(Downstar: 65, female, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)