#potential mouse nest

[trashpandaqc]

my noise collab with Shimmering Ice Puzzle has a new album out on Tokinogake today! we hope you enjoy it ≠müvT≠Êgct·^}ˆñ„ºú[C[ºΙy⁄w1Õ€mNVÔf.u : p

more enn{kdog:

[pansexualkiba]

i know a lot of people like to make hawks more birdlike for the angst potential of being turned from a person into an advertisement, but i think we should have fun with it. i want someone to throw a towel over his head and he falls dead asleep mid-conversation. he just has a twig collection ostensibly as nesting material but all the twigs are polished and labelled and on display in individual glass cases. one time he picked up a live mouse and ate it whole.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.81)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your heat is oh so close to breaking, but first, you need your whole pack even closer, but nothing seems close enough…

Tags: Heatsex, Dumbification kink, Dacryphilia, Crying during sex cuz its so good, overstimulation, fucking in omega space, mind break, Double penetration, Two Knots one hole, sope x reader, settling spanking, dumbification, lactation kink, omegan milk and talks of triggered ruts, breeding kink, implied/referenced somnophilia, rough sex, squirting, Subspace, dom! Namjoon, Dom! Seojin, jin refers to himself as daddy exactly one time, size kink, seokjin calls the m/c a slut but it's loving, overstimulation, voyeurism, Holecheck, fluff, Comfort no hurt,

W/c: 11.8k

A/n: wow last heat chapter!!! honestly i did not anticipate this taking so fucking long and for that i'm sorry (i'm not sorry at all).

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The truth is heats aren’t all just fucking and getting fucked. Slick and knots, Alpha’s and Omega’s. Hierarchy and settling. There are also some sweet moments that exist independent of its raging and hunger. Moments of domestic bliss that find you like a shot of sunlight during a rainstorm:

The thrum of instinct is heavy, like an anchor pulling Namjoon up from sleep. His consciousness bubbles up from somewhere in between a very very happy dream involving the pack and a can of whipped cream and a feeling like he vaguely should eat something.

The first thing he registers is that he can taste cream on the back of his throat. Probably Jin's slick. And the second thing is that there is someone- an omega moving around the nest.

A bad thing, a thing that his instincts, primed and ready to protect, are all loud over.

Jinnie is pillowed on his chest, hole slick and open around Namjoon's knot, resting just inside the comforting familiar warmth. Knot warming to soothe his pack omega who had been quite distressed when he woke last and was unfilled. But Namjoon has fixed that. Good, Namjoon is doing a good job, of keeping his mate and packmates happy.

But that is Neither insistent nor very important at the moment as Namjoon subtly shifts the omega closer to him. Going into guarding mode, on alert the second he wakes. Eyes flicking from the window to the door, a growl already building to ward off potential predators.

But there are none here in the quiet room, nothing besides the cool blue light of the moon slipping through the window. Jin nuzzles into his neck, whining low at the sudden burst of angry alpha on the air.

Namjoon’s arms tighten at the sound of movement. Thumb rubbing at the dimple of Jin’s spine. But when he looks- eyes flinty in the darkness- it’s just you.

He watches as you move, instantly fully awake, waiting and seeing if you'll trudge too close to the edge of the nest and if you'll need him to manhandle you (albeit gently) back into your place among the other soft and sleeping pups here. Safe, where you belong, where you should be sprawled and ready to take any of the sensual delights that Namjoon's alphas have in store for you.

Namjoon is patient, like a cat watching a mouse, waiting to see if you like Jinnie earlier, need to be caught.

Namjoon hadn’t let the pack omega fuss over the food for too long without herding him back inside the nest. The distance between Jin and its safe walls is the mental equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. Namjoon had all but nipped Jin at the scruff- something that the pack omega only sometimes allows. But if Namjoon feels the need to get all his omega’s safe and in one spot then Jin feels it tenfold.

It's a good thing that they both get each other like this. Namjoon will never take it for granted, and will never not marvel over his soulmate.

Namjoon scans the nest, counting bodies and measuring breaths. Every pup is where they should be, snug and sated. Well, almost every pup. But Namjoon is inclined to watch and wait and see if you come to him.

Your cheeks are round looking, eyes barely open, blinking blearily, wearing only a large dark t-shirt- because you complained that the nudity was bothering you earlier. It was an easily fulfilled request although the alpha’s might have bickered a little bit over whose shirt you wore. Jimin had won out and you smell like him, like vanilla and alpha musk.

Although that might be due to the state of the shirt. The black shirt you wear is crisscrossed a little grossly with near-translucent evidence of Jimin's cum and your and Jk’s rubbing. But messiness and a lack of hygiene kind of goes hand in hand with heat and maybe he'll remember to think it's gross tomorrow.

But now Namjoon breathes in deep a barely there warning growl on the exhale, luxuriating in the scent of all of you combined- in more ways than just the shirt indicates. Even from here, he can smell how bred you are. The underlying sated current to your scent tells him he's done his job and done it well.

For a moment Namjoon lets himself imagine that he's actually pupped you (all three of you at once, but who’s really measuring Namjoon’s fantasy here) and that soon you'll start to swell and sweeten. You'll be as adorably dependent on them as you are in omega space all the time. The fantasy is so heavenly that Namjoon’s eyelids begin to grow heavy.

Jin is going to absolutely go to town with you and Jungkook later. God, Namjoon would kill for a shower. Maybe in the morning when he's not so tired.

Namjoon watches, mouth dry and knot sore. Namjoon is just detangling his thoughts enough to try and ask you if you need another breeding or perhaps growl at you in warning, when you get to where Yoongi’s slumped. Knees to the side, body half propped up in a mess of pillows.

His pj’s are pulled low, the same flannel ones that Yoongi always likes but that Jungkook complains feels too scratchy. But you don’t seem to mind, immediately snuggling down into your mate. Your legs and Yoongi’s legs immediately tangling.

Namjoon has never asked what it feels like- your mating mark, beyond the barest scientific-driven questions. But sometimes he wonders- is Yoongi your north star? Is he the taste on the back of your throat? The face you see behind your eyelids as you dream.

Namjoon’s hands tighten around Jin’s body instinctively. He's been looking at the pack omega's throat a lot more this heat, appreciating the musculature, the vein that Namjoon can see pulsating. They've been together now for what- 6 years? Almost 7? How much longer should they wait?

Yoongi wakes when you fall into his arms. A little thump, A little oof. Namjoon hears it from across the nest. In the quiet soft hum of dreaming bodies, Jungkook’s soft snoring and puppy twitches make a blanket rustle.

Yoongi doesn’t look upset at being woken up so abruptly, blinking as you duck low and nuzzle into his jaw, whining softly. Needy. Lying your body weight over him and instantly limp.

Namjoon's instincts resettle themselves.

“Hey little honey,” he says softly followed immidatly by something barely intelligible. Brushing your tangled hair back from your face, ducking low to bump his nose against yours before he kisses you, soft and slow deep.

Namjoon hums, pleased.

You only squirm in reply, shuffling closer to Yoongi, like just getting your body next to his isn’t enough. Isn’t close enough for your mate. Namjoon feels his heart pang.

"Did you need it? Do you want it?” He trails off, and Yoongi’s flush is a little noticeable even if the half-darkness. You just shake your head. Namjoon can tell by the way your cheeks, look- flushed but not sweaty- that this isn’t another spike of heat.

This is just you; this is just you needing to be close to Yoongi. Namjoon’s mouth goes a little dry and he doesn’t speak, doesn’t say a word for fear of interrupting you.

Words have been hard for you in heat, more often than not communicating with one-word answers or a shake of your head, but you scrape together your words for Yoongi now. “Just cuddle? Just wanted to cuddle with you.”

Yoongi hums deep and gravely. And opens his arms, pealing back his covers because with you there- he won’t need a blanket, burning hot as you are. You settle in around him. Hitching a leg over his hip that Yoongi adjusts pulling you closer.

You press your face to Yoongi’s throat and Namjoon sees him swallow. Sees your mate wrap his arms around you, hand skimming up and down your back, endless trails until you fall asleep. He thinks Yoongi might whisper something to you in the darkness.

After counting the bodies once again. Namjoon tucks Jin's head back under his chin and shuts his eyes. Listening for seven heartbeats beating in rhythm before his instincts let him rest.

The pack all need it after the heat, Namjoon thinks it must be close to ending now, but it’s hard to tell for sure.  

~-~

There are other soft moments too, as the spikes between your heat truly start to petter off later that evening. It's not over yet, but it's getting there. When you're lucid enough to speak, you and Jungkook complain that your bodies feel awful.

The stickiness between your legs, the dewy space under your breasts (that Hobi is kind of obsessed with nuzzling into but whatever, boobs are great, you're obsessed with tae's and he's obsessed with yours, you can both be casual about it), and the other countless little messes that you and the other omegas have made on them and the nest.

The last layer gets peeled back after the alphas detangle you from the nest one by one whisking you away upstairs to deal with some of that mess. Revealing a clean layer of nest below. The nest is not nearly as plush as it was at the start of the heat. Too many soiled blankets have been removed and too many rutted against pillows have been judged too dirty to sleep against.

Your heat fever quiets just before you get into the bath and Jimin turns you knotted and sleepy. Reclining against Tae's chest while Yoongi gets wet up to his upper arm. Teasing Jimin for turning lazy after a knot. But it’s all false and fondly put upon. Yoongi doesn’t mind washing your hair and Jimin’s. Both of you are sudsy, enjoying Jin’s nice-smelling shampoo that leaves both of you speckled with pink bubbles. Sighing and purring at every lingering rub.

You nuzzle into the crook of Jimin's elbow. Seeking out something intangible. Jimin smells so good. Musky alpha, happy alpha, your alpha. He laughs, a high-pitched sweet sound. It sounds so good against the tall ceilings. echoic, nearly melodic.

Yoongi is very very careful to rub behind your ears. Firm fingers massaging out the knots in your neck until you’re turning limp against Jimin’s front. In this position, Tae can poke and prod and count the freckles on your back.

“You know, if you connect all of these, they sort of look like a bunny,”

Yoongi peaks over your shoulder, “or a frowny face.” You whine, and your mate changes his tune, “Definitely a bunny.” He pecks your forehead and your eyelashes flutter.

"My perfect bunny, so good after your first heat with us. You just have to be like that- you just have to let us take care of you. Can you do that for me huh? Can you be good for us?" Yoongi says it as if he can hardly believe it. 'First heat' is said with such a reverence that it makes you just a little more lucid.

Tae goes quiet, in the way that she does when you know she’s thinking through something- some aspect of her story or a poem, a particular way to word things. And things are calm enough that Jimin can answer her sleepy request for a bit of paper and a pen.

"Minnie. If you’ve got a moment."

Jimin gets up and out of the tub. Disappearing from your front after he drapes you over the side of the deep tub. The porcelain is deliciously cool against your front compared to the hot water. Should you respond to Yoongi? Do you need to?

He prods at your mouth, and you open obediently, eyes closed. Happy to taste- water? Electrolyte? He guides you to sip and you do. Barely conscious as he rubs the water from your lips with a thumb, chiding you gently for being messy.

If Jin were awake, he’d be sudsing up your hair and using some of Tae's expensive leave-in conditioner, he’d section and detangle each strand with a gentle tug. He would use the sugar scrub and then the body wash and then lather you down with body oil leaving your skin shiny and hydrated.

If Jin were awake and it was time for a good grooming session the pack omega would catalog each of the bruises on your body and dispense a pea-sized amount of the soothing cream that he always uses. The bite marks on your neck might need something a little more heavy duty. Jimin has been a little more nibbly than usual.

Jimin pauses before getting back into the tub, staring down at you and Tae for a moment, taking a second to appreciate the vision you paint. Both of his girls in the bath together. Everything slow and comforting and normal.

It's so normal here. Between you four. Tae, Jimin, Yoongi, You.

There are no lurking thoughts or anxiety over hidden things. No secrets- delightful or scary, lingering on the edge of Jimin’s mind. When he looks down at his hands they are not blood-stained or holding a gun.

He just has the pen and paper for Tae, a sheet of paper ripped out of the notebook she keeps next to the nest upstairs. The journal exists only for scrawling and mumbling through Tae's jumbled thoughts, not sacred like the ones downstairs that only see a finished product. Jimin didn’t think Tae would want to risk dropping her whole notebook into the bathtub.

Yoongi takes a big dollop of suds and pops it onto the end of your nose, you go cross-eyed trying to look at it, pouting. Jimin can't help his smile.

Tae's chestnut hair is half a wreck but she’s still the most beautiful thing Jimin’s ever seen. (This is not to be confused with jimin putting you in some sort of hierarchy- you firmly hold the spot as the cutest thing that Jimin’s ever seen. He uses a different word to describe each of the pack this way. Jimin has no second favorites or best favorites).

Jimin’s cheeks look a little…moisturized probably from all the time that he’s spent buried between your thighs during this heat. His skin glows. Radiant. Although heats usually leave the alphas looking a little bit ragged and worn out that hasn’t been the case with this heat.

All of them prowl about like predators turned fat and lazy from domestication. Sleepy but not exhausted. Worn but not at the end of their ropes. Instincts a heavyweight that sings like a low drone. White noise. Like the mental equivalent of a weighted blanket.

Even for Jimin who usually gets out of heats so on edge from all the hormones, usually so worn down by the end that his skin turns hypersensitive and his words get chopped and simple. Overstimulated, that's the word for it.

But not now, there’s not an ounce of tension in Jimin’s body as he watches you and Tae in the bath. He watches Tae wipe a bit of soap from your cheek and Yoongi shields your eyes from the water as he rinses out your hair. Your purring ripples out into the open air, deep and luscious like velvet. When Jimin looks down at his arms- there are goosebumps there.

Yoongi looks up at Jimin, still bare, still dripping water onto the floor, and smiles. Jimin can’t fight his flush.

It's probably your slick and milk that has Jimin feeling so tamed. Probably.

Jimin always has time for you and Tae. That’s sort of one of his rules; that he will prioritize you no matter what he’s doing. That even when things are bad or scary or you’re in heat he will make time to indulge you both. Indulging you both is what Jimin lives for.

(How lovely it might be to be loved that way, a simple concession but not one that is given easily. I’ve been writing this story for so long that I’ve forgotten how people fall in love. Could it be like this? I want it to be like this).

Jimin returns to the tub and bundles you back against his chest, his feet nudging against Tae's knees as he gets comfy in the hot water. Tae stretches and turns her body to reach for a towel, wiping her hands to dry them so she can grab the paper. Yoongi continues to wash you smiling down at your fingers limply curled into a fist, taking a brush to them and the dirt under your nails. Jimin’s arms loosely wrap around your back to keep you in place.

You roll onto your tummy or try to. You're awfully wiggly and sleepy like this. it's almost like you're trying to nest in the water.

"No no no pup, you can't present here." You pout at that. The ball of Jimin's knee rests against your stomach. On your belly- you have to get onto your belly.

Water sloshes against your face, Yoongi's hand goes harder, more dominant, threading through your hair and holding your head up. "Pup, you cannot breathe underwater."

You grumble like you wish they'd let you try, but stay put when Yoongi picks you up and rests you across Jimin's lap. Half draped over Tae, half over Jimin. Utterly boneless.

It isn’t the first time Tae has used your bare back as a rest for her notebook. The feeling of the paper against your bare skin is comforting and familiar. Her non-dominant hand tickles over your shoulder as you doze, not fully asleep lazing in the water.

Yoongi leans his cheek against the ball of Tae's shoulder, nuzzling briefly. He peeks over her shoulder as she writes and scrawls and she tilts the paper so that he can see better.

Occasionally hands grip under your arms, readjusting so that you don’t actually drown as you sort of fall asleep. You’re so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion that cannot be roused.

And it's so warm, the places where they touch you blend and move, sudsy and slippery.

Your face gets gently washed, gentle fingers in smooth circles and when Yoongi tilts your chin, you notice that his fingers have already gone pruny from how they’ve sudsed you up between your legs to your knees, every inch of you clean. Even the hem of his pushed-up sleeves are damp.

When she’s done with her little poem, Tae recites it for you three. The steam turns the air hazy. It sort of feels like a love letter that turns into a poem. You’re distantly aware of it as always, that this poem is about you.

But then again most of the time when Tae writes it’s about you. (Jimin too, but mostly- you).

You think when she finally lets you read her book you’re going to see little bits of your love story in between the pages. You’ll notice flashes of you and things that are references to the way that you love her. Sweet reminders that you are loved and treasured just as dearly as one of Tae's characters. That you live in her head just like they do.

8 months ago she would have never shared a poem with any of them so soon after it popped into her head. She’d at least have edited it a little and let the words linger for a day or two. Tae's words used to be kept under lock and key. But you have made Tae into someone brave now. She is not so scared of showing the delicate parts of her. You curl your hand around her thigh in response. Cheek resting on her knee as you listen to her voice. 

“I long to be careless with my heart, to not know what it feels like when it burns. To give it thoughtlessly again, so that I might prolong those firsts with you."

There is a lump in her throat, you can hear it as she says the words. it makes them come out hushed like she is close to crying. The ending of these firsts has never bothered you. First kiss, first date, first heat. All crossed off a list. Maybe when you're more lucid you'll tell her you can play pretend and go on as many first dates as you need to to get it right. Until she stops feeling this way.

"As the firsts become fewer and fewer, I find myself pausing, making it last, savoring it.” You rub your cheek into Tae's knee, and Yoongi’s hand runs through your hair, then Tae's.

“A bite, a blush, a secret shared.” Jimin’s hand lingers around the curve of your shoulder, holding you out of the water.

“The love on the blankets, your kiss ruddy on my hands. The feeling of your knees between my knees, Your heart and other banquets. we feast upon the plenty. Pomegranates. Figs. Milk. Honey.”

Tae's hand thumbs over your lip, and when you look up at her you find her watching you. Reading off the words without looking at the paper, like she’s already committed it to memory.

“A first meal or last like any other. Regardless, I eat.”

~-~

With a little bit of prodding and a bit of encouragement, Hoseok gets quite confident towards the end of your heat.

It's either from your moans or the increasing vulnerability and laconicness of your body. Nothing makes an alpha doting and possessive like a vulnerable little omega. One fucked quiet and soft. Completely pliant and boneless in the nest, unable even to reach for them as your body gets softer and softer with heat.

The fever rages through your body, turning you docile and out of it. Even when your packmates try to prop you up for a bite to eat, a bit of water, or a wipe to your face- you cannot seem to hold yourself up. Body limp, bones like Jello. Eyelashes fluttering and whining. Fucked so good that you can hardly open your eyes.

You whine through the overstimulation of another orgasm. But your hands feel so heavy you can't even push their hands or faces away when it gets to be too much. You are truly fucked up. Truly gone from all their attention.

Like with most omega's, your heat gets very very bad before it breaks. An increasing spike that foretells the ending. Nothing is enough, not even overstimulation makes your heat fever quiet.

Both Yoongi and Namjoon bury their faces between your thighs. Cheek to cheek, finger fucking more slick out of you that they lap up eagerly. And you cum until your toes can't even curl. Until your clit twitches, sucked pink and puffy, and you can't even squirt anymore.

Sweat beads at your temple and your body begins to tremble. And Hoseok can tell from the pinch in Namjoon’s face and the slightly stressed sour note in his scent, that things are not good. That the pack alpha is worried- more worried than usual.

But Namjoon has a lot to balance, between Jin sleeping through the night on the other side of the nest and measuring his other half’s breaths. deep and gentle, counting the minutes until he wakes. And Jungkook who seems to have stolen your energy and all but needs to be dragged back from the edge of the nest at every available opportunity.

He squirms, making a game out of it. A game that Tae and Jimin do not enjoy in the slightest. “Kookie don’t-“ “I swear to god if you bite me again I’ll-“ “behave omega”

But their threats land on deaf ears. Jungkook just giggles and rolls away. Leaving their muscles straining, arms bulging as they hold him down by the wrists as the omega rolls, mouth open, teeth bared. But Jungkook always did like to be held down when fucked, restrained, and made to take it until that feisty edge in him is dulled into something docile.

But you? You continue to cry.  

You just can't recognize what it is you need, frustrated, endlessly frustrated. Maybe you got a taste of it when they realized you were leaking milk; all of them close, all of them around you. You want that back now. Your packmates under your teeth. You need all of them, right now.

Or at least more than one. Yoongi and Namjoon between your legs was half of it but they didn't touch the ache in you. The burning need to be full. To feel full.

One knot just won’t due.

Luckily, Namjoon has prepared you well for it.

Your tits are bitten and puffy looking. They'd spent several hours draining you dry. You barely have a few drops when Hobi leans down to check (to make sure really- he’s not behaving like a milk-drunk pup- he swears). You only sigh gently at the closeness, his hair brushing your skin, nuzzling into his hairline as his mouth goes where you’re tender, a few mouthfuls, the sound of gulping and Hobi.

Hobi. You cling to him and whine when he moves away. Distantly through the dripping and the trembling you’re aware that he’s trying to say something to you. He sighs when you stay silent, hand listlessly tangling in the nest. Needy for something you can’t say, words that just won’t come to your lips.

You want that closeness back, You want them near again- you just can't figure out how to say it.

The first thing that indicates you're nearing the end of your heat is the tears; constantly your eyes are glassy and your scent is sour no matter how many times you cum. You're sniffly pressed to Tae's shoulders while Jungkook latches. Little tears on your cheeks while Yoongi knots you.

Every single moment you're awake, you're weepy. No matter how many times the pack tries and soothe you; you are wet-eyed and sniffly. Broken somehow.

“You don’t want us to stop fucking you right?” Namjoon asks after you cry and whimper through another knotting. Relieved when you shake your head almost angrily, eyebrows pinching together like you're angry he even suggested it. Tears threaten to spill as you lock your ankles around Namjoon’s back, pushing all of you closer to him, Your stomach brushes his. The dewiness is faintly gross but faintly hot too.

"Alright pup, don't worry, no one is gonna take me from you." Namjoon means it. Even if you probably won't remember it later. His hand settles on the back of your neck and guides your face to his scent gland. He's not surprised that you bite down, the sigh slips from his lips and his thumbs rub and roll your scruff to soothe you. “Ah pup, alpha isn’t going anywhere.”

They try not to let it affect them, how you cry.

Crying can be hot sometimes, making a sub cry because they’re feeling too good well. Jimin might give you exactly that demonstration when he mounts Jungkook, finally turning the other omega docile under the weight of his knot. The dominance in the air like a fire threatening to spark.

But you remain bundled from Jinnie’s chest to Namjoon’s, to Yoongi’s, “I’ll take her.” he says. An edge to his voice that Namjoon might not have taken as a threat to his dominance before Yoongi had a knot.

Namjoon clenches his teeth. Everyone is a bit on edge with you crying.

“Can you tell us why you’re crying little pup? Does something hurt? Are you achy here?” Jin very very gently cups your chest. You're sat half sideways in Yoongi’s lap, peaking out at the pack omega from Yoongi’s neck, shaking your head slightly. Jin’s hands move south. thumb rubbing up and down the chub of your thigh.

During any other post-heat Jin would be sleeping soundly through most of the following day, but not now, not with you like this.

Jin's hair is so tangled it nearly stands up straight, his cheeks are so puffy and his lips are so swollen from kissing and biting that they look a bit like a beak. But besides the fact that his body just won't stop slicking up- Jin's fine. His skin is no longer flushed, he can blink back the last little bit of haze and consider himself ludic. His heat is over. fucking finally.

So when he wakes to find you crying, he doesn't hesitate to help, to slip his hands between your thighs. “How about here? Does this hurt? Is that why you're crying? Did we break your little hole?”

You tremble a little bit as he strokes, finger pads rubbing in what he hopes is soothing circles. But when he stills you shake your head and Jin sighs, removing his hand from you with a barely there cobweb of slick that Namjoon almost immediately eyes.

You tuck your face back into Yoongi’s throat, sniffling renewed as he moves away from you to say something quietly to Namjoon, your mate's throat vibrates against your cheek as he speaks but you can't make sense of the words.

"Joon, don't be gross."

"Sorry." Namjoon doesn't sound sorry at all.

Some of the alphas like it a little bit too much. The crying. Jimin laps at your cheeks and teases you for it, calling you a soggy little puppy. Everything, tears, milk, slick. All wet and messy for them. Stretched to your breaking point. All burned up.

But Yoongi is more gentle, more routine, slower and sweeter. It's late at night when they finally figure out what you need. The lamp in the corner is on and your body is shrouded in shadow. Sweaty and achy.

You’re no longer able to move so much, so exhausted that you need your packmates due to every little thing for you. You need Jimin to guide bites to your lips and need Namjoon to brush your teeth when it comes time for bed. Mouth open and eyes closed, so trusting as Namjoon tilts your head and praises you. 

You're wearing pj's, little pajama shorts pushed to the side, a button-down shirt in front that has most of the buttons undone. It makes you feel so much better, being taken care of like this. But still. You cry.

And you need Yoongi like you need blankets, warmth, he'd offered to fuck you to sleep and you'd nodded your scent. And now Yoongi is trying really- he's doing his best.

But still, you can't seem to stop crying. He presses his cheek along yours crouched low so that your bodies touch everywhere. Your heartbeat next to his heartbeat. Your cheek against his cheek as his hips move in small little circles. His knot is just barely starting to grow sensitive and taught. That new feeling that Yoongi is starting to recognize as a warning.

You’re warm all the way to your temple. Yoongi has realized that it’s more the emotion that’s making you cry and less his dick, but still-

He juts his hip forward, working his knot into you. And you sniffle against his throat.

Yoongi finds it hard to remain undistracted with you crying. Maybe that’s just because your crying is the exact opposite of a turn-on for him. Yoongi’s lips glide across your forehead, feeling something like an apology. He stops thrusting and instead rests inside of you, warm and wet and tight.

You tremble. Hands brought up to your chest like you need to hide your heart from him. Yoongi tries not to be hurt by that. Yoongi rests his forehead against yours and nearby Namjoon perks up a little, watching and waiting.

Yoongi wishes Namjoon would just rest.

“Little honey, will you tell me what’s wrong? What’s going on in that fuzzy head of yours huh? You can tell me.”

You tip your chin down, voice oh so quiet, oh so fragile when you finally speak. “Won’t be angry?”

“Not gonna be angry. Promise.”

You glance sidelong, not at Namjoon, but to where Hoseok is eating a late dinner, trying not to look like he’s watching (He was definitely watching.) But Jin has an arm wrapped loosely around his waist, a little possessive, a little protective. But Yoongi knows that like you Hobi likes a physical reminder to stay put and rest, a reminder that he’s exactly where he’s wanted at the pack omega’s side.

“Wan' Hobi alpha.”

Yoongi kisses your brow, never one to be hurt over you choosing someone else. Your tears are more important than his ego and what his mate wants in heat is infinitely more prescient than his newfound knot and the needs that come with it. But you whimper, clinging to him as he starts to pull out. Tears once again build at the edge of your eyes and threaten to spill.

“No! Don’t go!”

“Honey, I don’t understand, you can’t have both of us at once…” Yoongi trails off as you sniffle.

"Want both!" You cry, petulant. Yoongi looks up making eye contact with Hobi (flushing desperately) and then Jin (looking curious and sort of impressed at your level of bratting. Any other day talking like that would get you drawn over either Jin or Namjoon's lap for a spanking).

There is a single moment where everyone waits. Jin’s eyebrows go from raised into his hairline to down, staring at you like you’re going to send Jin into heat again. Can one omega even trigger another’s heat? If they could, you would certainly trigger Jin’s.

Jin has that dark look in his eye that Yoongi has learned to be a little bit afraid of. The same kind of look he gets when Jungkook asks to be have his hole slapped. When Jimin asks to be pushed around. When Namjoon asks for his collar. A dangerous look.

The pack omega is in post heat, he's not supposed to be doing any of the helping and yet- Jin shuffles over to where you and Yoongi recline in the nest.

You can't possibly be asking for that. For two knots at once. You’ve never broached that kind of play; anal, with Yoongi. and he thinks this is hardly the time to do it when you’re already not communicating well- when you’re in Omegaspace and even the slightest hurts and aches can feel mountains high. You are so sensitive when you are like this, in heat and in Omegaspace.

And yet you reach down, palming blindly where you and yoongi meet. "Want Hobi here, want both please? Good pup?"

You can't possibly understand what you're asking for. It's too dangerous. Stretching you out like that. You couldn’t possibly take two knots in one hole, right?

Only, could you?

You’d taken Namjoon barely an hour ago, and the pack alpha had slid in like it was nothing, fucking a fresh wave of slick and a few dribbles of squirt out of you. Knot tugging at your entrance until Yoongi could see where you went pink. You’re… stretched a little, dilated, fucked open enough to take Namjoon’s cock, usually a gargantuan task but-

You’d half slept through the last time he’d knotted you. namjoon is at least twice as thick as yoongi, and hobi is only a little bit girthier. yoongi's knot would be small if he was an alpha. hobi's always been average.

But togeather... could they fit?

It’s Jin who checks, shuffling up to get behind you. Sneaking his hand first under the hem of your shirt to stroke at your hip lovingly, and then down the edge. Lower. Yoongi doesn’t slip out, and you continue to nuzzle into the column of his throat, sniffling.

“Wan Hobi, want- hng.”

Jin’s fingers prod, and it’s almost exactly how Namjoon guided Hobi earlier only it’s Jin doing it this time, all snug up behind Yoongi. He smells like heat and like alpha cum, like he’s been bred himself. It’s doing things to Yoongi’s self-control, that new tight edge to fucking. Being surrounded by two omega’s in heat, sandwiched between them.

“Calm down babypup, you’ll have your Hobi, just give us a moment.”

Jin is tired but lucid. Pretty soon he’ll cajole one of the alphas into letting him sneak upstairs for another bath. Jin can only handle the tacky feeling of slickness between his legs for so long. But the prospect of re-grooming himself alone after a heat doesn’t appeal to him nearly as much as making sure you and Jungkook are tended to.

It can’t be much longer now, there can’t be too much more to your heats, maybe another 6 or so hours. You're both so tired, and the alphas are too. Jimin is sleeping barely a few feet away, heaping over a clean pink and purple checkered blanket. His generously sculpted ass shows two neat little rings, teeth marks.

He rubs slowly at where your entrance parts are around Yoongi’s cock and then more insistently until you let him in. He has to use a bit of force but it’s easy. His fingers slide in next to Yoongi’s cock.

You hiccup and cry, this time because it's good, it's exactly what you've needed and Jin doesn't stop.

Namjoon has done a good job of fucking you open and sloppy. You quiver but stretch easily. Jin’s second finger goes in with little more than a hiccup, his third too, almost holding around Yoongi’s cock, making the stretch tighter. Your trembling increases when Jin turns his wrist over to press up against your spongy g-spot. And Seokjin watches your clit twitch in response and you cry out.

One day, one day soon he’s going to test how much that little nub can take, it going to make you cum until you can’t even squirt anymore. You can hardly handle this with more than a dribble now. Just a drop or two that hits Jin's wrist in a slight brush of warmth.

You pull your knees up to your chest obediently, and Yoongi holds you under your knees. Jin grabs one of your ankles to keep you still, to keep you from squirming for more fingers.

There you go, stretched again, more. You want more. Two packmates close and your instincts tell you that's good. Your instincts start to recede just slightly. Not enough but getting there.

Jin’s cock twitches, still soft.

Hobi lounges not far away, his chest dotted with bite marks and pretty marks, bruised looking in the shadow, sharp eyes watching him. Hobi's eyes close slightly. But stay open. The eye contact he makes with Jin is tentative at first, but Hobi doesn’t blink or look away first, he doesn’t back down.  

Perfect.

Jin’s teeth ache, Hoseok shies away from Jin’s becoming hand but not for long. Namjoon has been watching the whole time while reclining, looking big and protective. Watching Jinnie do his work as pack omega with a domineering glint in his eyes that Jin almost wants to purr at.

He watches Jin with heavy-lidded eyes an apex predator full and happy letting his prey walk close without hunting. Jutting his chin as if to say “Go on, give me a show.” 

Jin fits three fingers into your hole next to Yoongi’s cock, each trust earning him a whimper before he pops them out and lands a spank over your clit, both you and Yoongi jump. Jin’s hand comes away wet.

Jin has Hobi by the back of his neck, quicker than he can think to reign in his instincts. There is no squirming or pleas for justification. Hoseok just tips his throat and lets Jin sniff at it, snuffling up and down his throat.

“She wants you Hobi puppy, don’t you want to feel Yoongi’s knot my sweet pup?” Hobi blushes but relents, letting Jin guide him closer.

Earlier, pillowed in the nest after knotting, you’d watched your mate and Hobi. Watched as Hobi got down to look, whispering quiet and fond words with his hands wrapped around yoongi's knot. You'd watched Hobi's long hand's birdlike drift down Yoongi's chest to go between his legs.

Yoongi had let the other alpha explore him until he'd gone taught and sagged. "Ah really- fuck"

"Like this, it feels good when it's like this. wrap your hand around your knot like this and tug-"

His touch is both experimental and familiar. You'd watched them press their knots together, glossy with omega slick, rutting and rubbing and laughing.

And now you’ll get to have both, both at the same time. You chirp, needy, bratty. You don't want to be denied it for another moment.

You squirm, Hands opening and closing in the nest. Looking up at them, Hobi's eyes are dark with such an unabashed show of wanting that behind you, Yoongi sort of laughs, a pitch too high. A little unhinged. A little pussy drunk.

Hoseok is beginning to get back his confidence, the frantic fear of the heat wearing away. It always goes this way; Hoseok is always just thinking he’s finally adjusted to all the scents when the heat ends.

Jin’s job is done now, and he shuffles across the nest until he’s near Namjoon, flopping onto his side so that he gets to be the little spoon. The pack alpha instantly ropes an arm around his waist and pulls him in, close. Nosing along the side of Jin's face.

Yoongi guides you to lie on your side so that he can spoon you and Hoseok can be at your front through this. It reminds you a bit of how you and Hoseok first fucked, blankets all around, warm through it, your leg hitches up around Hobi's waist. Urging him closer.

You're still wearing your shorts and your pajama top, and your top at least- gets easily unbuttoned. Yoongi gets frustrated with the bottoms and with a brief tear- Hobi grips one side and Yoongi the other. Your bottoms truly fall away in tatters.

You make eye contact with Hobi and for a second, he swears you get more lucid, reaching out your hand. His breathing calms. Had it been ragged? Hobi hadn’t noticed.

Yoongi slows his pace from behind you. Hobi’s voice sounds rough even to his own ears. “You really need it huh?”  

You whimper and nod, looking up at him still weepy. Yoongi coos and wipes your tears away. You hardly seem to notice. "Please only if-" you moan, and Yoongi shoots Hoseok a winning grin, still working behind you. Starting up his pace again. He doesn’t pull out all the way but pushes in a bit deeper. grinding against the spongey sofness, the place that namjoon reaches and fucks, turned sensitive from so many knottings.

"Only if you-" Yoongi doesn't let you continue, hitching up your hip showing Hobi where both of you meet. Showing Hobi how he’s fucking you.

Hoseok shuffles close as if it's even a question of whether he wants this still. You should be able to tell by his scent alone. His eyes stay locked to the space that Yoongi has made in you. You and Yoongi, his best friend and his sort of soulmate.

Hoseok’s knees brush Yoongi’s and your feet press to his stomach until he takes you by the ankles and puts your legs on either side of him. Fumbling to get his cock out, to kiss the inside of your knee as he looks down, muscles straining biting his lip. It's frantic but it's loving all of it.

Hoseok watches you as he guides his cock close.

Yoongi feels velvety and soaked against Hoseok’s head. Wet and slick and so fucking hot to press up into that seam where you close around him. The head of Hobi’s cock nudges against Yoongi’s knot before he starts to press inside.

Hoseok is dimly aware of Yoongi inhaling jagged, pressing you just a little closer against him. Your head falls back against Yoongi’s shoulder, mouth open, hand suddenly fisting in Hobi's red t-shirt, not pushing him away, pulling him closer.

“Oh, do you like it?” He teases. The way that only Hobi can. Teasing you for how much you want it, how much you need both him and your mate in one hole. he's going to tease you so much for this later- you already know it.

It takes some pressing, some force behind it, and you stop squirming, going rigid. Mouth going wide in an overwhelmed 'oh' without a sound. and suddenly you're not having any thoughts about it at all. You couldn't, there is nothing in you but the feeling of the stretch.

Your scent goes so sweet on the air that across the nest, Namjoon's growl almost goes violent. He and Jin are rocking and rubbing but neither of them pay much attention to each other, too busy watching you.

hobi feels a hot flush of pride down his spine as namjoon gives him an encouraging smile.

Yoongi curses, hands hard around your waist keeping you in place. You're half lying on top of Yoongi half spooning. Hoseok’s hands fist the sheet by Yoongi’s head, and Hoseok puts just a bit more force into it.

You tilt your chin and bite the scent gland at his wrist.

Hobi feels the zing of pain the same moment that he feels a shot of ecstasy as you start to part enough to let the head of his cock in, the space instantly flooded with slick and cum.

He pops inside, warm and thick, sliding past the sensitive skin of Yoongi’s proto knot, sliding up and in alongside Yoongi’s cock. A broken sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan gets forced from your throat and your body goes truly limp, teeth popping as you let go of Hobi's skin. Eyes so wide and open as you stare blankly ahead of you. Breathing heavy.

Hobi knows he'll bruise and that he'll get turned on every time he looks down at it for the next week. knows that the others will tease him for it by pressing against it too.

This is so different from taking Namjoon's cock. You're stretched but almost more because they're both pulsing, both moving independently from you and each other. Stretched so wide, so full. You feel stretched to the breaking point. Fucked dumb already.

And Hobi hasn’t even moved yet.

Yoongi and Hobi are forced close next to each other by how hard you clench down. You hug both of them dribbling squirt out a little pathetically, it gathers around the base of their cocks. They pause a little, breathing heavy. Feeling it, making eye contact over your shoulder.

They’ve done this before- not exactly this but a rendezvous in the record shop years ago back when Hoseok first became a part of the pack. Hobi remembers Yoongi’s big hands, both of their cocks next to each other, the slide of precum slick tangled with one fist to fuck.

Hoseok’s the one who moves first, more used to the feeling of almost knotting than Yoongi. He takes a minute to settle down. His expression is a little stricken, a little panicked, but Hobi doesn’t mind. If Yoongi needs to pop a knot he can and Hobi will just keep fucking you. With his chest pressed to yours, he can feel your heartbeat rabbit fast.

“Fuck- fuck- please- fuck” Yoongi is nearly unintelligible, but Hobi just laughs and keeps going.

With Yoongi against your back, you are dizzy with sensation. Too much is happening. The feeling of your pussy stretched out, the feeling of them sliding across each other and the sound they make is so much. Both of them moving in tandem. Both of them fucking you at once. It burns but it feels so good that you never want it to stop.

This is different, now you clench down around both of them and hiccup, adjusting. Your head lolls to the side, eyes blinking once, twice, then again as you stop crying. Jin coos and moves closer. Namjoon sighs and lets him so that the pack omega can run his hands over your hot cheeks. His skin is cool. So cool against the fire raging inside of you.

“Oh, little pup can’t handle two cocks in her little hole? Too bad honey, you asked for it. Now take it.” Jin is mean when he’s lucid. pulling your head to the side to prod at Yoongi's mating mark.

You clench at that, Yoongi twitches too. Hobi gasps.

Fuck, every time Yoongi moves, Hoseok feels it, every time he twitches, he feels it too. You are so warm and wet inside. Slick flooding the space between them and turning the rub even more heavenly. It won’t be long for any of you.

Hoseok looks down at Yoongi, hair shading his eyes as he works diligently to fuck you. Yoongi grins up at him, looking victorious and his while you stay like that, pliant and spacey, blinking and whimpering, eyes unable to focus on anything. Hobi takes your hand and holds it, pressing you into the bed.

Jin shuffles forward until he's close enough to touch, to feel. Namjoon settles back behind him. His hand reaches over to feel your stomach. The place where both of them are. You don't have a belly bulge- they're not long enough for that. But it still makes you blink and shiver.

There's the tacky rub of one cock against another, the terrible all-consuming tightness of your pussy stretched to the breaking point. Your eyes pupils dilated, resting against Yoongi’s chest, fucked so good that you are boneless. Yeah lolling utterly limp as Jin moves your head from one shoulder to the other. Laughing as he goes. "So good you can't even hold your head up?”

“Good pup? Does that feel good?”

You can't respond, fucked dumb. You can’t clench, you can hardly even cum. Or maybe it’s that you can’t stop cumming. One spike of pleasure blends into the next. your body is so sensitive, everywhere they touch your feels like too much, feels too sensitive.

Yoongi's voice goes rough, "look at me Hobi, look at me, I wanna see it while you fuck her, I wanna see it when you-"

A bead of sweat drips from Hobi's nose onto your shoulder, Yoongi laughs and laps at it. Pausing to nibble at your mating mark. You mewl, and one of Yoongi's hands finds Hobi's. It goes like that both of them fucking you, Hobi holds one of your wrists to keep you steady in a sea of pleasure, Yoongi holding the other.

Hobi's not quite sure who cum's first. Whether it's the feeling of Yoongi's new knot expanding against his that has him coming undone or the way that you tighten around his that has them both spilling inside of you. You squirt again, this time more than you did earlier.

A hot gush against Hobi's stomach and drips down the line of his cock onto Yoongi’s happy trail. But the flood of sticky cum around both of their cocks is so good, so wet that neither of them stops fucking you for long.

You can take it. Their knots rub against each other as they pause, kiss each other, and then you, and then keep fucking you.

Besides you three in the nest, Jin and Namjoon giggle and cuddle close. Namjoon leans close and nibbles at Jin's jaw. Their whispers are not so secret. The pack omega giggles in response. Despite his earlier complaints of soreness, Namjoon is hard and achy against Jin's lower back. The pack alpha shouldn't need to mount Jin again in his heat, but they might just for fun.

Just for fun Jin teases, "Do you think she'll be able to take you and Tae next?"

Namjoon growls and grins, allowing Jin his fantasy. They tilt their heads, peering down at you to see how taught you are around both of them. The bulge faints. You look- you look-

Wrecked. Claimed.

Namjoon can hardly say that he doesn’t think about it. How good it must feel to have one knot pressed against the other. Yoongi and Hobi clearly look like they’re enjoying the feeling. and you're still dripping into the nest too so-

The sound of your purring lulls the whole pack to sleep. Across the nest, Tae, Jungkook, and Jimin all sleep through it. Namjoon knows they’re going to be upset that they missed it, that they’ll probably demand to see a reenactment.

"Would it really hurt to try?" 

~-~

When you wake up on the 4th morning after your heat begins, you are no longer sweating although you do feel disgustingly sticky.

There is laughter going on in the hallway, sweet, the sound of Jimin and Jungkook’s giggles as they roughhouse on the stairs and light streams through the cracked window. Letting in the sweet smell of spring.

Someone is trying to take the blanket that’s on top of you gently, but after a questioning hum on your pack alpha’s part, a hushed whisper comes.

“This one’s covered in slick Joonie. Come on.”

Namjoon is big behind you, pressed along your spine, when you open your mouth, you have that vaguely tacky feeling between your lips that says you've been asleep for many many hours. When he pushes his face into your throat, there’s stubble there.

Huh- icky.

You feel hazy and fucked good, content, no fire permeates your chest, only a little bit of wanting, the usual amount. Your fingers tangle loosely with the fabric in front of you, attached to a chest, and a familiar husky laugh.

When you open your eyes you blink. Yoongi’s looking at you with that same soft fond look in his eyes. Peacefully blinking at you slowly the same way Noodle does.

But you slam them shut. Blushing furiously.

Oh my god, you really let him and Hobi, they both really-

You can’t look at him, can’t open your eyes as you fight down the flush. But neither of them seems to mind your sudden shyness. You feel a hand combing through your hair as you piece through it. Both of them laugh at you.

"Don't get shy on us now."

You feel more lucid than you have in days, is your heat done? Yes, it must be, because Namjoon’s scent does not smell as alluring as it used to. You feel the soreness between your legs. The ache in your whole body. Bone tired. Really- you feel like you could sleep for the next week.

“Ready to join the land of the living pup?” He teases, pressing kisses to your eyelids when you don’t respond and instead shake your heat. the warmth gets guided off of you regardless of your whines. but it’s just Jinnie. Just Jinnie smiling down at you.

“Hobi’s making breakfast.”

You grumble and try to burrow back into the nest unsuccessfully. Jin huffs and gets out of the nest, satisfied that you’re awake and that your heat is finally finally over. They expected yours to last a little longer but still.

Jin holds a soiled blanket out at arm's length. Maybe it's glad that your heat didn't last longer. He's not sure the nest could have handled it and they're already going to have to replace a good number of blankets. Jin's heat has already been over for almost a whole day and he's no longer feeling the exhaustion. No- Jin is wide awake and cannot wait to clean and nest and clean you again until you're sparkly. He's already eyeing your greasy hair with a glint in his eyes. Yoongi holds you firm to his chest like that will keep Jin from removing you.

But Jin sighs, settling his instincts down. It's easy today without the heat clouding his judgment.

“Coffee?”

“Yes please,” Namjoon stresses.

The nest is a little bit less orderly than it was when you first made it, the walls look like they’re about ready to collapse, and it’s not nearly as soft- after having the blankets being torn away from it. You try to squirm away when Yoongi and Namjoon guide you gently into a sitting position but instantly Namjoon’s hands dig into your sides.

You try and roll away.

“No no no, up. You need food.” You roll over onto your tummy, giggling and trying to squirm away.

“No! wanna nest!” Namjoon grabs your ankles and pulls you back and you giggle as he tickles up your thigh. When you open your eyes, Namjoon is looking down at you so tenderly it takes your breath away.

“Missed that.” He whispers. “that sound.”

Your body feels tired but you feel happy. You can tell the shirt you wear has pulled up around your ribcage and Namjoon’s thumb rubs up against your side.

You’re sore and worn, you’ve slept for what must have been more than 10 hours and you have this terrible feeling in your chest achy and needy. Anxiety. Anxiety at leaving the nest.

Your heat is over but your instincts still need settling. Your hand fists around Namjoon’s thigh as you turn over onto your stomach, draped across his lap. Huh, his thighs are so muscly, you understand why Jungkook’s sort of obsessed with them.

Namjoon pets gently over your spine. Letting you knead and manipulate the muscle and fat there. When you peak up at him, he’s raising his eyebrow at you.

“What do you need?”

6 or even 2 months ago you might have struggled to say it. To confess your needs to Namjoon. But now you only ruminate on exactly what it is you need. What will make you feel better?

Yoongi is close folding up some of the bedding on the edge of the nest, sorting through what’s soiled and what isn’t. What needs immediate washing and what can wait until tomorrow.

As long as whatever he brings back still smells like them you think it will still be safe, still be fine. You blink and a second later you realize that of course Yoongi has to take it away. You can’t exactly leave it here all fucked through.

You’ve left more than a few blankets squirt-stained. And you know that if he doesn’t handle them now when Jungkook is out of the nest the other omega might grow a little too attached to them because of how much they smell like you. His…less hygienic nesting habits aside.

You nuzzle into Namjoon's thighs as you watch him. Namjoon waits patiently for you to think through your thoughts.

Namjoon is not hairy, not really, but his hair is just a bit courser on his legs. You feel it, teasing your fingers through it draped over his thighs, hands holding around the meat of them. It’s an oddly childish gesture, an omega stimming. When you turn, you can see his smile out of the corner of your eye.

From the doorway Tae hums, toothbrush in her mouth, pink and sparkly. She’s just passing through to check on you. You flush and look away from her too. Remembering all the times she teased you, her reaction to your chest.

Speaking of that, what the fuck?

Your chest feels heavy just thinking about it. Your nipples feel sensitive just from rubbing against your shirt. You're not exactly surprised because you had heard that could happen but-

You cover your face. Namjoon lets you, recognizing that you're still processing everything that's happened.

Did someone…feed from you while you slept? You think they must have because your chest doesn't feel swollen and achy yet.

She grins when you peek at her like she knows what you’re thinking about.

“You should let us shave your legs Joonie.”

Your pack alpha huffs, and still smiling, says, “You can shave any bit of me you want if it makes you happy baby girl.”

She comes closer and Namjoon sets a hand on her thigh treading dangerously close to the hem of her pink silk robe (the one with the little gold butterflies) feeling her own freshly shaved legs. Her hair does look a little wet. Tae must have just taken a shower.

“You’re always so soft” Tae makes a noise in her throat and you tip your chin, looking up at her. Blinking slow.

Namjoon continues to pet down your spine with one hand on you and the other on her thighs.

Tae leaves to spit and there’s a lump in your throat that maybe has nothing to do with the heat- pre or post and everything to do with this being the first time you’re coming out of it with them. The last few days were- this was- so much. But they handled it so well and really you don’t know why you’re suddenly feeling so overwhelmed now when everything is over.

“I need,” you lick your lips. Thinking through your words before you say them. Namjoon waits, a patient pack alpha. He is endlessly patient especially when his pups are trying to be brave.

“A settling.”

When you tentatively glance back at Namjoon he’s smiling like it's nothing serious. Even though you can feel the hot flush of embarrassment on your cheeks. To ask for more sexual attention after all of that feels like maybe you could be asking for too much but-

It's not really sexual, is it? Intimate sure. But a spanking doesn't need to be sexual to give you what you need.

Namjoon tugs at your shorts- a pair of Hobi's? Jin’s? Boxers that they’d dressed you in. You blush when you think of that- of them guiding pants up your legs when you were prone. Although you’re sure they must have dressed you and undressed you multiple times through your heat.

Namjoon strokes up and down the skin of your behind, your thighs can't separate with your shorts still half on and you rest your face on a pillow, Yoongi tilts your chin up to his, checking, but you just smile at him.

“Gentle,” he asks.

Namjoon raises his eyebrow like he’d never be anything but (maybe he’s rough with you if you asked for it, but gentleness will always be his default). He looks down and laughs when his fingers press into you again. There is a deeper ache under his finger. A bruise?

“A bitemark.” He says when you ask, “probably one of the other pups.”

“Probably Jungkook” Yoongi says. He laughs and you do too.

On the stairs in the hall jungkook calls out. “Hey! I heard that! That one's from Yoongi!” and youdevolve into giggles again. When you peek up at him again Yoongi’s red all the way to his ears.

“Really hyung?” Namjoon teases, but Yoongi throws a pillow at him, it sort of lands on you- but you don’t mind at all as the feathers flutter down around you. Gentle.

The first spank Namjoon lands is that. Gentle.

His big hands hit with more of a thud feeling than a sharp sting. The sound is louder than the actual sensation. It forces a quiet hiccup from your throat. And your hand grips his thigh under your chest, eyes wide. Legs splaying as far as they can,

“There you go pup, let alpha give you what you need.”

Namjoon doesn’t make you count through it, petting over your skin for several seconds after every gentle spank. You’re sighing and going boneless by the last one, and Namjoon pulls up your waistband and lands one final one over the fabric. “There, better?” you nod and let him slip from underneath you and begin to untangle you from the nest.

But still, you’re no less boneless. No less able to stay awake, the spanking might have settled your nesting instincts, but you’re still too tired and too well fucked to move around on your own.  

But that too can be fixed- You demand to be carried to the kitchen and Namjoon happily obliges. There Tae has already picked out your favorite coffee cup, the pink one with the pearlescent flowers even though you’re a little too wobbly to hold onto it properly. It sloshes with decaf coffee as she hands it to you or tries to before she obediently feeds you a sip. The last thing that the pack needs is you getting dehydrated.

She looks gorgeous in another one of her flimsy night dresses, everyone is lounging in their pajamas, you might not even change into normal clothing today because you might not need to.  

Hoseok is there, with his sunny smile and hair- less greasy, drying curly. Wearing your frilly pink apron flipping pancakes and starting on the scrambled eggs, cracking the eggs in one hand, bacon frying, hair half awry.

You don’t say that it’s already noon, that it’s already time for lunch. It’s heat rules. The time doesn’t matter.

He spots you and tosses a grin over his shoulder. You tuck your face into Namjoon’s throat and whine. Namjoon (rather obediently for the pack alpha). Walks you over to him so that you can kiss his cheek. 

“Morning,” Hobi says all husky and rough but smiling. You can feel it pressed to your cheek. Namjoon hums in front of you, the purr-like growl vibrating.

“Wanna shower now or later pup?” You don’t like the idea of being separated from them, and you can tell from the vaguely clean feeling between your legs that you’ve at least been whipped down recently. Your tummy still feels…strange but good. You shake your head petulantly. Arms wrapped loosely around Namjoon’s neck. 

Hoseok turns back to the burner and you realize that he's not wearing anything under your apron besides a tiny tiny pair of boxers.

His body is… a little distracting. You don’t know who it was- you, Jin, or Jungkook who mauled him but Hoseok is bitten up. long scratches line his back all the way down to the little dimples at the base of his spine.

Every available inch of his body from his hips to his throat covered with rings of purple bruises, claiming marks, there’s even one on his knee, one closer to his feet. You sit across Namjoon’s thigh. Watching Hobi over the edge of your cup. Looking away whenever he turns around.

Upstairs, the sound of the shower gurgles and Jin’s shouting makes for some pleasant white noise. Jungkook’s hassling giggle as both of them get in. And your mates brief “yah don’t splash me-”

Who knows what they’re doing, wrestling or fucking or just being them. The omegas left to groom themselves before breakfast. You’ll join them after you’ve gotten a bit of food in your tummy. Tae disappears upstairs when Jin shouts at her for her blow drier.  

Hoseok's whole body is covered with bitemarks and you can sense from the vague soreness in your skin that you- like Hobi- bear the visible burden of their loving. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. You know you smell like them and you like that. 

after your breakfast, they're probably going to make you shower.

You’re so sleepy that you can’t even think about standing for a shower let alone walking. You still can’t really feel your legs beyond a vague hum that says your body has enough energy to move.  You just shift your legs up back and forth, swinging them sideways in Namjoon’s lap, fidgeting.

“You sure you don’t want to drink your coffee? Your water?” Namjoon prods.

“Wanna watch Hobi cook,” you say in answer. 

Yoongi hums, coming down the stairs wearing a dark splatter across his grey shirt as both of them laugh at you. Your blushing face gets tucked along Namjoon’s throat to hide again. Seriously- you're having a hard time looking any of them in the eyes.

Noodle makes an appearance, yowling loudly at you like he’s missed you and is letting you know. He circles your feet and presses up into the arch of your foot. You giggle, ticklish and Namjoon leans, extending a hand to scratch between Noodle's ears in hello. His hiss is only half hearted. Namjoon’s big hands on your waist remain firm so that you don’t slide right out of his lap.

“Didn’t starve with us neglecting you eh Nu?” He says, your feet continue to move fidgety. The backside of your omega zoomies who knows. All of the omegas are bound to get zoomies after so many days cooped up inside.

Who knows, maybe the whole pack will take a walk later, maybe to the beach. All of you will pile into two cars and drive out to the edge of the world and linger there. And you’ll sit in the sand and Hobi will search for more sea treasures. And Jimin will pick dandelions from the seashore, the only flowers really growing this early in spring. And you’ll tie one string around Tae's ring finger and one around yours.

You’ll walk with a happy few feet between all of you, the wide-open space calling to your instincts and settling them under the oncoming weight of spring. The sunshine streaming through the open window leads you to think that it’s warm outside, you’d like to be out there too.

Namjoon and Jin will spend half of the time bickering and kissing but after, there could be pizza or sandwiches or takeout, and maybe once you get home, you’ll eat it all on the floor of the living room after you admit that really- the nest room needs to be entirely disassembled. You’ll go to sleep smelling like sea salt and love. Bodies aching in that good way that lets you know you’ve been loved that day. And you’ll wake to another morning just like this one, where the light is in your eyes but at least it’s yellow and golden.

A fleck of sunlight lingers on Namjoon’s shoulder, and you nuzzle into it.

Behind you, Hobi starts humming a song, it’s not your favorite- but it’s Yoongi’s. His voice is so pretty, deep rough in the morning.

You’ll offer it up as an idea later when your mouth decides it wants to cooperate, pressed against the skin of Namjoon’s neck and shoulder, that space where his collar bones sit.  

Hobi flips the bacon and asks if Yoongi will turn on some music, your mate obliges. From upstairs Tae calls, “Tell the pup she needs to do a facemask with me and Minnie later! And a hair mask! And a-” A loud thud sounds, some grumbling then. “Ew slick does not count as a facemask Jungkook- ew-”

Namjoon’s arms are the safest place in the universe. You can’t help but think that you’d be happy in them forever as you cuddle up on his chest.

“Pup, no sleeping, you have to eat something-” his chides break off as you hum.

“Just a minute Joonie.”

You rest there, listening to the sound of Hobi's humming and Noodle meowing for bits of scrambled eggs as Tae and Jungkook bicker upstairs. Jimin says something to Jin on the stairs and you can hear the sound of them kissing. You can hear it all the way from here.

Yoongi comes close to you and says something soft to Namjoon that you can’t hear as Hobi begins to sing and the oil starts to pop.

You listen to them all and close your eyes against Namjoon’s throat.

~-~

Notes:

I needed to take a bit of a break from writing because i felt like my words were getting a little too repeditive- this probably has alot to do with writing 4 back to back smutt chapters but! in that way i think this chapter feels alot more organic and sweet. and feels a little new to me in terms of wording and writing in a good way, i hope you won't begrudge me when i need to take periodic breaks if i'm capable of giving you something you'll enjoy.

i'm going to ignore the fact that during the bath scene that water is probably SO FILTHY i did not say it in the chapter but they lowkey probably had to drain the water a few times and finger fuck the cum out of the m/c before she got clean. wow it's hot when i say it like that why didn't i write that???

it's a small change but- tae tilting the paper so that yoongi can see better?? when before she would have never let him see??? thats growth baybeee

listen i know the words "little hole" can be a squick for some people but tbh, when it's jinnie saying it and like- another omega my brain kind of malfunctions like a boy alpha saying that? ew ew ew, an omega or a female alpha saying it thought????? 🫦 gonna admit that i love it a bit too much.

ugh i love omega on omega stuff, litterally...if i talked in any more detail over how much i love it i'd have to put it over on my smutt blog.

in my mind when hobi says 'his best friend and his sort of soulmate' he's talking about both of them in each roll like- they're both is best friend and his soulmate. they're the golden trio

honestly i love fucking with clothes on like to me it feels much more intimate than having sex completely nude because it's like "i want you enough even with your clothes on

the end of this chapter was very inspired by that one tweet that goes "oomf fucked me so good i can't even look at him.

the reference to hobi's feet is specifically for one person out there.

so did you guys like it??? the heat chapters??? did it live up to the hype of the whole series? did any parts of it make you cum? let me know in my askbox!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Partners in Crime 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker

Summary: you're left reeling after your divorce but the chaos has only begun. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You hate the mall. Too bright. Too loud. Too fast. 

That day isn’t so bad. Tuesday, mid-morning. Most people are at work. Not you. Your part-time gig barely pays the bills, let alone keeps you busy. With that in mind, you shouldn’t be there to spend what little you have.  

It’s for a good cause. It’s your grandmother’s birthday next week and you owe her. After all she’s done, you owe much more than just a measly mall-bough gift but it’s all you can manage right now. One day it will be better. One day you will be able to pay her back. At least you keep telling yourself that. 

She paid for it all. Your way out, your lawyer, your apartment even. You can’t live in the senior’s community with her, that’s against the rules, but she parsed out some of her nest egg for the flat in the old brick building. For you. She’s the only one who ever did so much for you but what did you ever do for her? 

It’s not for lack of trying, only your own poor decisions. 

You enter the sparkling Swarovski store and keep your arms tight to your body, paranoid of breaking any of the numerous crystal pieces. You don’t know what she would like. It isn’t because you don’t know her well, you just don’t think she has much use for any of it. She’s always been painfully practical. That’s why you never wanted to ask her for help. 

An associate startles you as she appears beside you in her sleek black pantsuit. She offers help but you get the sense she’s checking in, making sure your hands aren’t sneaking into your pockets. You make sure to keep them visible and move your satchel across your back. You tell her you’re just looking and blow out between your dry lips. Maybe a hoodie wasn’t the best choice. 

It was meant to be a solution. You wanted to get out of your grandmother’s hair. How long had you been living with her? He was the answer to that. You thought so. You wanted to believe it. For ten years, you tried. He always spoiled it. 

Then she had to bail you out anyway. 

As you come to the sharp corner of a shelf, you’re startled by another customer. You hadn’t seen them when you came in or heard them. You glance at them fleetingly and turn your attention to the shelf of Mickey Mouse decorations. Definitely not those. 

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” the man frightens you again as he nears and presses his hand to your back. He sidles by, and you dodge away from him, coming dangerously close to colliding with the display of birthstone necklaces. 

You shake off the close brush and blink at the glass. You peek over at the man as he seems overly interested in a paper weight shaped like a dove. His mustache and sleek haircut make him look like he’s been plucked out of some gangster period piece.  

The associate shifts from one side of the counter to the other. She’s watching you. You sigh. She still thinks you’re a thief. You shake your head and leave. 

It’s not worth the trouble or the money. You can find something better. You know you could get your grandma a box of chocolates and a card and she’d say she’s happy. You don’t want to get her what works; you want to do something for someone. Something more than just be there. 

You go down to Hallmark. It’s a similar atmosphere with a hint of warmness and more range in price. Still too much Disney and not enough variety. Your grandmother doesn’t need a rustic crate or a door sign with some snarky saying about wine. 

You stop to look at cards. You can at least grab one of those. As you reach for one along the top row, another hand swipes it from your grasp. You back up and look at the culprit. It’s the same man as the Swarovski shop. Strange. 

You recoil and scurry down the aisle towards the door. Is he following you? It could be a coincidence. Two stores. If he’s looking for a gift too, it makes sense. 

You cross your arms and march quickly through the bright mall, the skylight glaring down at you. You walk in and out of a clothes shop. You don’t know where you’re going now. You’re frazzled. 

You find your way to the As Seen on TV shop and meander around without intent. You’re at a loss. You’ll just end up at the bookstore like always. Another book for her birthday. Wowee. 

She might like the salt rock light. You don’t know. Ugh. 

It isn’t the gift. It isn’t her. It’s you. You’re indecisive. You're lost. Even if it was misery, you miss having someone to tell you what to do. Now you have to think and you do too much of that. 

“Those are pretty cool,” a voice slices through your self-pity. 

It’s the same man. Your eyes meet as you look up to see him. You blanch and open and close your mouth. The shop is so small, how hadn’t you heard him? 

You retreat without a word. He must be following you. There’s no other explanation. What do you do? You can’t just lead him out of the mall, back to your building, but how can you divert him? 

You find a bench down the next aisle of the mall, somewhere the associates in the vitamin store can see you. You’re safe there with people around. You look up and down, searching for the man and his mustache. Just a mother with her stroller. 

You’re paranoid. Stupid, just like he said. It’s all in your head. You’re just fucked up. You don’t know how to live in this world. Not alone. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the timbre tickles up the back of your spine and you twist to see the figure behind you. It’s an officer in uniform. “Mind if I ask ya something?” 

You nod and blink. You don’t like the cops. You haven’t spoken to them since the night it all came crashing down. The flashing lights, the sirens, the questions. It’s all a haze yet it’s stamped into your psyche. 

“Yes, sir,” you stand. 

He’s got dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. His shoulders bear a slant of authority as he has his hands on his hips. He’s taller than you, but so is everyone. You look across the bench at him as his white shirt pokes out from under his leather jacket, his belly straining the fabric. 

“You don’t gotta trouble yerself,” he shows his palm and reaches with his other hand to his belt, “I’m lookin’ for someone and was wonderin’ if maybe ya saw him.” 

“Oh?” You crinkle your forehead. 

“Got a pic somewhere,” he frees his phone from the clip on his belt and flicks his thumb over the screen, “here we are.” 

He turns the cell toward you and you can’t help but make a face. The image is blurry but it’s definitely that same man. You look back the way you came and gulp. 

“Reckon by that, you’ve seen him,” the officer says. “Sheriff Bodecker,” he introduces as he retracts his hand, “I’m doing an investigation. Mind if I ask some more questions?" 

“Well, I... didn’t talk to him.” 

“That’s fine,” he peers down in the same direction you did. The infant in its stroller begins to yawl and his cheek ticks, “how about you come out to my cruiser and we’ll do it there? Less ruckus?” 

You purse your lips. You can’t really say no, he might think you know that guy, whoever he is, whatever he’s done. You shrug. You don’t have much to say. You’re sure it won’t be much of an interview. 

“Okay,” you agree.” 

[validinsanity]

Sprinkles

summary: Konig finds a small little animal in danger. Having a bleeding heart he takes it in and tries to care for it. Being out of depth with taking care of things instead of killing them; he struggles both with his new ward and making friends with his fellow operator; Horangi.

KONIG GETS A HAMSTER and of course along the way i give him a friend. :P multi chapter not sure how long but lets hope! thx to @lialucis for the name suggestions

Sprinkles 

He’d noticed it while eating outside on base one afternoon. Never eating in the food hall, only ever sneaking food while the mess was near empty. König  had taken a small bowl of what was left at the cafeteria; rice, beans and some kind of salad. Sitting in the back of the building behind the training ground he’d found a quiet grassy patch to take meals. No one had bothered him since he’d started eating here. 

Just as he was lifting his snipperhood to start eating, he heard a small noise. Startled, he scanned the area for its source– a tiny creature down by his left. Squirming in the grass the thing was pinkish with a few patches of fur. Its eyes had seemed closed and it was wiggling around desperately. He wasn’t sure what it was just that it was tiny and helpless. 

Nature was cruel. König could relate. As a child, he’d been bullied for his height and awkwardness. His father had chastised him repeatedly telling him he had to endure. Of course life was only for those who could withstand most hardships. Survival of the fittest. Only those that could adapt to their environment could prosper. It was a man’s fatherly advice to their son in hopes to toughen him up. But it had just made König feel inadequate in his own skin. Being tall and having a broader build hadn’t made him stronger. It just put a target on his back. 

König stared at the little animal watching it wiggle again. He knew shouldn't get involved. He had no idea what it even was. Just as he was about to turn back to his food, a crow appeared. His heart leaped to his throat. It was nature. Nothing he should meddle with. He watched the bird stalk towards the tiny creature. Oh no. 

He scrambled up, scattering his food across the grass. The crow flew off scared away. Without thinking, König rushed forward, scooping up the baby in his hands. Nearly tripping in his haste, he rushed back inside, hunger long forgotten. 

Like a mad-man he ran back to his room. Bumping into a few men excusing himself as an afterthought. Finally in his quarters he fumbled with his keycard and lock stumbling in. Frantically, he searched for something soft. Locating a discarded t-shirt he grabbed it and made a small nest on his bed and placed the animal in it. The small creature wiggled but soon stopped. 

“What the hell am I doing…” König  sighed, his anxiety spiking. He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know the first thing about taking care of something so small. He killed people for a living! Not care for them!

“Scheiß!” He shook his head, trying to calm down. “I am a colonel, why am I being ridiculous!” Taking a deep breath he straightened up. He had a new ward to care for. This is nothing new. Access the situation, gather information to gain the best outcome, then proceed and execute. That is what he does. He is a strategist first and foremost. A weapon to be used in combat. This–this was no different. With another breath, he looked down at the little thing. It was potentially some kind of mouse? It did not have a tail like one and its coloring was off. It seemed to be something else entirely. Brown fur coming in with white suggested some kind of ferret? No, it was much too small. 

Identifying it was one problem; next was what to feed it. Milk seemed like a safe bet. He’d have to make a trip to the mess hall again. The poor thing would be lucky to last a day. 

It had to survive. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if it didn’t. 

Mind set, he made his way to the mess hall. He’d gone earlier after lunch, but now it was nearing dinner and he worried more people would be present. König hated people. He was not shy–no, shy implied that he could eventually overcome the uneasiness and get comfortable with people. He was so terrified of people. Even now he recited in his head go-to scripts for when people had the guts to ask him for something out of battle: “Please, visit me during my office hours.” “If you’d excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” “Unfortunately, I’m occupied at the moment…” All good excuses, designed to steer these interactions into a more controlled setting. 

Bracing himself, he entered the mess hall. It was still early enough that the dinner rush hadn’t arrived, but a few recruits and operators could be seen occupying seats. König scanned the area eyes locking in on the back corner of the room. There, a self-serving area filled with coffee, teas, and, most importantly, milk. He just had to make it across the room to the table without anyone speaking to him. Great. 

He maneuvered around the tables, managing to reach the back and pour himself a small amount milk. He chose specifically the goat milk they had here and placed it in the microwave present and waited for it to warm up. He placed the cup in and set the timer for a minute. Now with only having to wait for the liquid to warm he was left standing uncertain what to do with himself.

 His anxiety grew as he stood there, unsure what to do with himself. Fingers twitched, reaching out for something to hold or fidget with while he waited. König shifted his gaze over to the nearby table that held the operators he usually worked with. 

Castillo was chatting with Conner, Oni listening intently. The only one who seemed to be not paying attention was Horangi. He was staring off into space. König  quickly turned back to see the timer. 20 more seconds and he’ll be able to leave. Grabbing some napkins he stuffed them in his pockets. Absently also finding a stirrer he held it between his fingers and played with it as he looked up to look at the group once again. His eyes traveled back to Horangi. 

The man had his signature sunglasses even though it was indoors and his gaiter up as always. The man’s usual helmet was off, revealing off his black hair styled with some kind of gel that made his hair look wet. König wish he could run his hands through-. 

The microwave’s sudden ding startled both of them. Heart jumping from the sudden eye contact König reached over and grabbed the cup and shuffled his way back to the door. He could feel Horangi’s eyes follow him as he left. 

Once back in to his room König leaned back on his door. He’d managed to get what he needed and now it was time to focus on what was important. Placing the cup of milk on his side desk he entered his private bathroom and gathered more supples. Finally, he placed a few napkins under the animal and grabbed the small syringe he had in a medkit in his bathroom. Taking a small amount of the milk into the syringe he slowly started to feed the tiny creature. It first did not make any effort to latch on to the makeshift bottle. Slowly however as König  dribbled a little bit of milk on it, the baby managed to figure out it was food. 

Relief washed over König as he saw it begin to feed. It would live. So long as he kept feeding it every so often, it would be okay. He slowly continued to feed it milk until it stopped feeding looking plump and round. Whatever this creature was, it was… cute. 

Cleaning up the mess he’d made with the napkins and milk he discard them in the wastbin. Then, his eyes landed on a box from his his siblings–they’d send him some photos and treats from home. He would use it as a temporary home for the little creature. Carefully, he placed the little animal inside the box with his t-shirts, letting it sleep as he cleared space on the top drawer of his nightstand. 

Inside werejust pens, envelopes and letters he’d gathered from his family back home in Austria. He’d read them sometimes at nights when he felt homesick and lonely. Now they were placed aside to house his newest addition in the top drawer until he found a more suitable place to put it. 

König paused. If he was going to keep it, he might as well name it, right? Now that he was sure he could care for it. At least for the time being. 

[eldritch-spouse]

Ok, so we know concubi can release their own pheromones and react violently if they smell another concubis pheromones in their territory. Would that mean would react positively to when a potential food source release pheromones like a monster or different type of demon is in heat? Would they target them more then anyone else? Like a monster in heat walking into lust must be a huge magnetic.

Yes, that's half the point of releasing those signals.

Sure, released pheromones assist in marking down a concubus' territory, letting them pick up on following scents more easily. But those pheromones do part of a concubus' hunting for them too, luring those "in need". Depending on the stage of their heat, some monsters may be able to comprehend they're vulnerable and entering the territory of someone who may harm them. Others simply don't have enough clarity to think twice and barrel in because instincts tell them to.

A concubus can easily scent the presence of someone in heat inside their territory, and it truly is like a gifted gourmet meal. Naturally, depending on the size and overall ferocity of the monster in question, a concubus may choose to wear them down first, but no lust demon in their good senses would pass up a meal walking into their hands. They understand that these monsters aren't here to mark territory or to build nests of their own, rather they just walked into an invisible mouse trap.

The downside to these encounters is that some concubi may choose to trap the monsters in heat inside their territory. A lot of them can't feed freely on the monsters, chancing getting into a heat themselves if they overeat. However, if food sources are scarce, the concubus may not want to part ways with their rutting gem after just one feeding. Thus, they find ways to temporarily kidnap these people. Concubi like Santi and Vesper don't do this, because they have a substantial amount of food sources almost always available.

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Kengliwa

So, as it seems everyone made note of, this week's creature was exceptionally easy to guess. (To the point that a couple people did actually go ahead and name it, which I can't be that annoyed about because I don't think anyone missed this one.) I actually thought about not including it -- I cut a few that were particularly obvious like this one, but this entry was just so beautifully written that I didn't want to not post it. Maybe I should have done a separate post like with the dogs... live and learn, I suppose.

Anyway, previous entries and results can be found here: https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. And the entry everybody is working from is at the link below:

Art below the cut in rough chronological order, as per usual.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) decided to go a bit Beatrix Potter, and produced some frankly adorable shrew-like critters. (And her own alt-text, thank you.) They're dressed in these nice black coats and bowler hats so they can look like the "black column across the fields" described in the entry. I love everything about this. Also, if you want to see a version of this without the linework, check the link above.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) decided to work off of the assertion that Kengliwas prefer wheat to barley because "barley is food for beasts". Naturally this means the Kengliwa must not itself be a beast, and Silverhart reflects that by medieval definition that excludes pretty much everything but birds and fish. So here we have a very small mouse-bird (the results of this one are all very cute, I have to say). And of course it's a flightless bird, because the entry describes them as walking. I'm really struck by the general composition of this one; the tiny bird clinging to the top of a wheat stalk is so well depicted. The colors are great too.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) followed the same "not a beast" logic as Silverhart, though they also name "serpent" and "worm" as potential non-beast categories. They also picked "bird", because the Kengliwa brings grain back to its nest, and birds have nests, so there you go. I appreciate that they've continued with that connection by having the interior of the Kengliwa burrow lined in a manner reminiscent of birds' nests. (And also that they provided alt-text, thank you.) Speaking of which, check it out, burrowing birds! With a cross-section of their burrow! Delightful. They further speculate that the symbolism attached to this one must be pretty weird given the mixed feelings the author seems to have, so I went and checked...

... there's actually not a lot of symbolism on this one. The highlights are that the divided grain supply represents the division between the Old and New Testaments, and barley represents heresy which is why it is scorned. (Pretty sure lots of people in the Middle Ages ate barley, but I suppose they preferred wheat.) The symbolism is all "things we learn from the good example of this industrious creature", and the entry quotes Proverbs 6:6 -- I'm not copying it here, because even though I'm pretty sure everyone knows what the animal is, the verse in question does name it, and we have a procedure here.

Anyway, as always, I recommend clicking on the link to CheapSweets's post to see their detailed explanation of their design decisions.

@theforceisstronginthegirl (link to post here) has drawn some ants in their agenda book. I have to admit, I'm not fully sure whether this was meant to be an entry, but you know, there's a picture (with alt-text and everything!) and it's tagged "kengliwa", so in it goes. Honestly I think the highlight here is that they described the creatures in the picture as "scribbles with jobs" which I think is a fun way to describe bugs generally. Very dynamically drawn scribbles too; they're quite expressive.

@pomrania (link to post here) has drawn a strange and adorable critter. It's giving... lizard-squirrel. Squizard. Particularly delighted by the fact that multiple people decided that such an industrious fellow should be wearing tiny clothing. I think the bag with one (1) grain of wheat in it is a nice touch. You just want to root for this little guy, you know? Also it's worth checking out Pomrania's linked post and associated progress post for some interesting steps in the design process for this one.

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) continues to deliver beautifully stylized art. They note that they considered rodents, but figured medieval authors would not be nearly this positive about rodents stealing grain, so instead they're lizards. Very good lizards, too! I love the patterning on them and the expressions on their faces. The one on the left scorning the barley is particularly delightful. Coolest-capybara also wonders what the original animal is classified under, if not "beast" -- to which I must say, oddly enough, this one is in with the beasts. I think. Right after this entry is the start of the "birds" section, and right before it is are some various mammals. So either this is the end of the beast section or it's, like, a palate-cleanser in between.

@strixcattus (link to post here) has also given their Kengliwa clothing, but for a very specific reason: as others have noted, the Kengliwa scorning barley because it's "food for beasts" implies that the Kengliwa are not beasts. Therefore, in Strixcattus's interpretation, they're people. Which is indeed the only non-"beast" category of animal that nobody else has mentioned, as far as I can figure. They're darling. Love the one on the right that appears to be chewing on a straw like your stereotypical farmer, except of course the straw is a single seed with like a bit of stalk attached. And I know I always say it, but you need to go read the linked post for this one. Maybe it's just because worldbuilding is my jam, but I'd happily read a lengthy TTRPG supplement about how Kengliwa society operates. They're like... medieval Borrowers who farm lichen and domesticate ants. I want to know everything about this.

Anyway, here's the Aberdeen Bestiary version:

That's right, they're scribbles with jobs!

Seriously, it turns out Theforceisstronginthegirl drew basically a dead ringer for the medieval version. Compare the two; the biggest differences are the medium and the fact that the Aberdeen Bestiary includes a nest.

But yes, they're ants. We all know they're ants.

Which should, as CheapSweets alluded to, be classed in with the worms! (Remember, that's a flexible term in the medieval era... especially since this is a Latin text, so it's vermis, like Modern English vermin.) There is a section labelled De vermibus, and these guys aren't in it! It could have really used them, too; I think the Ant entry by itself is the same length as the whole "worm" section.

Anyway. Hopefully next week's will be less obvious... okay, I just checked, it's barely less obvious. But I would put money on nobody guessing the one that posts on the 19th (though that's a pretty short entry, unfortunately).

[ravenclan-arc]

"A Raven's Calling" Chapter One: Prologue (Shadowstar)

A light rain pattered the ground as Shadow and his group made their way through the streets of a twoleg settlement. The darkness of the night allowed them to slip by unnoticed, the only light coming from lamps lining the streets.

Shadow stopped at the edge of a twoleg building, rain dripping from his ears as he scanned his surroundings. From his mouth came a soft squeak, the wet bundle he was carrying, a tiny cream and gray kit hung limply. He looked over his shoulder at the rest of his group who had come up behind him, three more kits hung from their mouths.

He turned back towards the street in front of them eyeing what looked to be an abandoned den in front of them. It would work as a shelter for tonight, at least until they had a better plan on what to do. The kits wouldn’t be able to last long in the cold and rain, especially without their mothers. Shadow gave a soft sneeze as a droplet of rain ran into his nostrils.

He twitched his tail forward to signal the others where they were heading. He launched himself toward the street, racing to the den. Next to him a flash of dark gray shot past him. Prim, one of the youngest in their group, raced to the den entrance and disappeared inside. The others were hot on his heels as they made it inside.

Everyone shook out their pelts and took in their surroundings. Prim was the first one to speak, “Not bad, it’ll work anyway. Maybe we’ll even find some food.”

Shadow stopped and narrowed his eyes at the young cat, he’d scold him for racing ahead but his mouth was full with the kit. Instead, he began looking for a place to build a nest and put the kits. They quickly found some soft material covering some twoleg items and pulled it into a bundle on the floor, snuggling the kits inside of it.

“I’ll keep them warm, you guys should see if you can find them something to eat. I’m not sure they’ve been weaned off milk,” Sandy meowed. The white and tan she-cat stepped gently over the kits and settled down with them curled up beside her belly.

“What are we even doing?” the pale ginger she-cat named Flutter asked. “We don’t have a place to live, much less resources to take care of kits. I mean, we can hardly manage ourselves most of the time!” she cried.

“I know, Flutter. But you know why we couldn’t leave them there, we all agreed,” Shadow stated. “There’s no turning back now. We might as well find some prey and get some rest. We can decide what to do next tomorrow.”

“Look what I found!” Prim cried, pointing his paw at a dead mouse on the stone floor.

"Nice work, Prim,” Pale said softly. The tan-striped she-cat was looking at Prim with shining eyes.

“Can the kits eat it?” Prim asked. He picked up his catch and brought it to Sandy, cocking his head to look at the tiny squeaking bundles.

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Shadow stated. “Sandy, Flutter, please take care of the kits. Prim, Pale, and I will go see what prey we can find then we’ll all rest and make decisions in the morning.”

A few days had passed since the group had arrived in the abandoned twoleg den. They had all made the decision to stay put at least until the kits were doing better. The hunting was good near the twoleg den and the kits were doing well with Sandy’s help and care.

Shadow padded through the grass outside the den. He was heading toward the forest nearby scouting for potential threats or a possible new home. He knew they couldn’t stay in the twoleg place forever, there were too many dangers, especially for growing kits.

He stopped at the edge of the forest and opened his mouth, letting the scents drift over him. The smell of prey lured him into the woods, his ears flicking at every sound. As he scouted the area he thought about his group, his family at this point even if some of them were newer such as Prim and Pale and the kits. They only had each other.

In the beginning, it had just been Shadow, Sandy, and Flutter. Three young adult cats roamming the world around them, surviving. Then they had picked up Prim and Pale, two young cats, almost kits themselves. They were having a hard time fitting into the group, especially Pale, and Prim was proving to be a bit of a troublemaker. Often Prim would challenge Shadow’s leadership or flat out refuse to listen to him. However, the young cat had some sense to him and realized he was better off with the group instead of out on his own.

Shadow’s thoughts were suddenly broken as a flock of birds burst from a nearby bush. His fur stood on end, his tail puffed up. His ears pricked as he heard movement coming from the brush in front of him, footsteps. He flattened his ears and got ready to pounce.

Bright ginger fur broke through the brush as an older she-cat stepped out. Her fur bristled when she spotted Shadow. Her eyes were gleaming with excitement but they also held doubt. Her meow was a bit rough when she asked, “Who are you?” Shadow relaxed, his fur went flat and his ears perked back up. “My name’s Shadow,” he meowed, tilting his head curiously. “And yours?”

“Ah, my name is Fidgetbark,” she said raising her head. “I was sent her on behalf of Starclan to give you a message. Does the name Honey mean anything to you?”

Her question sent a shocked chill through his spine, “Y-yes, my sister! But, how do you know her? She died moons ago and we’ve never been here before.” Shadow narrowed his eyes with suspicion, have I met this cat before? “And what’s Starclan?”

Fidgetbark stepped forward, “I know you have a lot of questions, but you must listen to me carefully.”

Shadow shifted on his feet, the cat in front of him wasn’t giving off any threatening behaviors. After a moment of hesitation, he sat down and curled his tail around his feet, nodding to signal he was willing to listen.

“Good, thank you,” Fidgetbark said breathing a sigh. “You're much more willing to listen than most. To answer your first question, Honey, your sister came to me with a message as a spirit. She has connected with Starclan and was sent to bring you to the clans under the request of Starclan.”

Shadow’s ears twitched with confusion and disbelief but he did not interrupt the she-cat. Taking in her words and rolling them over in his mind. He continued to listen politely.

“Starclan is a group of spirits from the clans. They guide the clans and give them advice, sometimes their spirits will appear to living cats or sometimes they will send signs that must be interpreted,” Fidgetbark continued, she seemed to appreciate Shadow’s compliance. “Starclan has sent a message to the clans that another clan must join them and a leader must be chosen. That leader is you.”

This was where Shadow broke in, “Me? But I’m just a stray cat fighting to survive! Sure I have a group that I take care of but I couldn’t lead a whole clan!” he cried. “I’m sorry but you have the wrong cat, I have to go now.”

Shadow stood up and turned away from the she-cat. Fear and confusion weighed on his paws as he walked away. Then he stopped. He had expected the she-cat to run after him, or at the very least call out to him and pled for him to come back or at least think about it but there was nothing. He turned back around to face her but the cat had disappeared.

Shadow shook out his pelt and hurried back towards the den where the others were staying. He wanted to talk to them and find out what they thought about this strange cat’s ramblings.

When he arrived back at the camp he called the others together and recounted the encounter with the strange cat in the forest. The reaction was not what he expected.

“We should do it!” Prim yowled, jumping to his feet in excitement.

“I don’t know…” Pale meowed softly, looking down at the floor.

“I agree with Prim. I think we should go, it would finally give us a place to live and we could raise the kits there,” Sandy announced.

“What?” Shadow said, looking around the small group. “I can’t lead a clan! And anyway we can’t just trust a bunch of strange cats, what if it's a trap?”

“Why not? We trusted Prim and Pale to join us and they were complete strangers,” Sandy argued.

“That’s different! Prim and Pale are super young and need our help. These are full-grown cats in large groups,” Shadow urged.

“I think Sandy and Prim are right, Shadow,” Flutter meowed evenly. “We can’t keep living like this especially not now with the kits. We need a stable home and these cats seem willing to accept our presence while still leaving us to our own structure.” Shadow’s ears drooped and he lowered his head, he knew they had a good point. They couldn’t keep going on like this. The she-cat he had met seemed nice enough and perhaps it would be worth it to at least investigate a little more before making any permanent choices.

“I could lead us if Shadow doesn’t want to!” Prim announced, puffing out his chest.

“Don’t be silly,” Flutter hissed. “We’re already younger than most leaders would be, there’s no way anyone would let a kit lead a clan.”

Prim looked devastated at the rebuke from Flutter. He lowered his head and lashed his tail keeping his jaws shut.

“Alright,” Shadow spoke up. “ I would be willing to go speak with Fidgetbark and make the choice for our group. However, once we’ve made our choice there will be no going back. We must all agree to this.”

“I’m in!” Sandy said, sitting tall.

“Yes! Let’s do it!” Prim cried. “Come on, Pale what do you think?”

“I guess… I’m not sure its a good idea but where you go I go,” Pale meowed.

“Sounds like we all agree, Shadow,” Flutter announced, blinking happily.

That night after the meeting Shadow went back into the woods searching for Fidgetbark. The first place he checked was the spot where they first met but when he arrived the clearing was empty.

Maybe this isn’t a bad thing. Perhaps it's a sign we aren’t meant to be a clan.

He lowered his head to the ground and sniffed. He could smell Fidgetbark’s scent from this morning, there was a trail leading into the woods. He figured he could follow it a bit before heading back, just to be able to tell the others he tried. However, as he followed the trail the scent became stronger and he suddenly popped out into another much larger clearing.

Sitting on a rock in the middle of the clearing was the ginger she-cat Fidgetbark, staring up at the stars. Her ears twitched as he padded closer to the rock. Her voice rang out in the quiet night, “Your sister had a feeling you might come back. She told me to wait, I guess it was a good thing I listened to her.”

“Can you really see my sister?” Shadow asked, his paws shaking.

“Yes,” Fidgetbark said, leaping down from the rock and turning toward him. “She’s the one who led me to you. I’m so glad you decided to come back. If my quest had failed I’m not sure where I would have gone back to, my clan would not have been accepting after I abandoned them.”

“You lived in a clan?” Shadow meowed, tilting his head.

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter now. I left them for a quest from Starclan, to build a new clan to call home.”

“What if I’m not cut out to be a leader? What if Starclan was wrong?”

“Starclan is not wrong. Leaders are chosen by Starclan themself and when chosen they are given nine lives. If they did not believe you worthy they would refuse to give you those lives.”

“So how do I know if I’m worthy of those nine lives? Do I have them now?”

“No, you must visit Starclan so they may grant you your lives. Have you decided you want to be a leader of a clan?” Shadow hesitated. He still wasn’t sure he was cut out to be a leader of a clan, but his friends all seemed so sure of him. Not only that but he had promised to protect them, didn’t that mean giving them a safe home?

He sighed, “Okay, yes, I’m ready to meet Starclan.”

Fidgetbark had nodded and said nothing more, beckoning him with her tail as she set off through the woods. They walked in silence. The walk was long and soon his paws began to hurt. She continued to lead the way confidently, her paws never faltering.

“We are almost there. We have to travel into this gorge to get there,” she said as she began making her way down the rocky slope into the gorge.

As they arrived in the middle of the gorge a large, tall rock formation stood in the middle. He looked up at it, the bright moon making him squint a little. 

Was that movement on the rock?

Before he could get a good look or ask Fidgetbark if she had seen anything a loud authoritative meow rang out, echoing in the gorge, “Look what we have here. Starclan’s new chosen clan leader.”

Shadow stared at the rock formation in front of him, his eyes adjusting. Above them were four cats silhouetted against the night sky looking down on them. Shadow felt his skin prickle with discomfort, his fur bristling. 

Who are these cats?

Fidgetbark bristled next to him, lowering herself to make her seem smaller. It was like she could read his mind when she whispered, “Those are the other clan leaders, they’ve come to meet their new rival.”

-> Next

[faustfelmouse]

Does Faust understand the dangers of consorting with demons? Does he know the nice lady helping him is covertly one of them?

"Demons are dangerous." There was a sharp nod, full of assurance and the confidence only a child could possess. "An' I know Emi is a demon! I made a contract with her to be my helper cause she helped my da' too!"

Beaming Faust put his hands on his hips, in what he assumed was a dramatic fashion with his cloak and his magic glowing through his eyes. If only his hood didn't slip from his crown and fall over his face and his sleeves slide down his arms and completely envelop his hands to make him much more of a frumpy monk than some imposing spell caster.

Shoulders fell and slowly he reached up to pull back his hood with a sheepish look. Peering up at the woman a shy smile tugged at his face. "Emi takes good care of me an' my mom. She is teaching me lots of things too."

"She-"

"Little Mouse? Ah, you've got another friend." Emiria strode forward, a kind smile tugging at her lips as she stepped behind her charge and master, smoothing out the hood upon Faust's head. "Run along now, your mother was looking for your help."

The smile remained on the woman until her charge was out of sight before it turned into a coy smirk. Horns sprouted and nails elongated as fell filled hues narrowed. "Have you heard the stories of the birds who lay eggs in others nests? Such large winged spawns that they push out the rest until they starve because of their appetite and hunger? Such amusing creatures, but an apt allegory I would think. You come here for what purpose exactly? I know of you, heard the whispers and the rumors. The storied manipulations. Find another piece for your board and your games, this is my nest to tend too.

A low chuckle hummed from her throat, "This little morsel is not one I am willing to share. So much potential in one little body, and I will be sure to shape him into something magnificent." How her eyes lit with ancient hunger and delight.

Emiria was just a name, one of many. One such as the figure before her was another such creature. Names upon names. Layers upon layers. Conniving snake and wicked spider. Faust would rise and rise. She would allow no other to partake in his fall.

"I would perhaps be willing of course...to see you and yours serve under his feet. A snake such as yourself would make him a fine pair of boots I would think...."

((I apologize for the delay @sanguinesorceress and I hope you don't mind my interpretation! ))

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 45

Chapter 44 || Index || Chapter 46

Fireheart had barely placed his mouse on the pile before he was already moving for the leader’s den to speak to Bluestar. Peppermask, Graystripe and Sandstorm stared after him, but he didn’t bother to pause and explain anything to them; he only had one thing on his mind now, and that was getting answers.

He nodded to Whitestorm, who was guarding her den, as he passed by. He pushed through the lichen curtain, as he so often had now that he was deputy. Inside was Bluestar, as he had expected; she stared sightlessly at the stone floor, her mind clearly elsewhere - just as it had been ever since Tigerclaw’s attack.

Would she even answer him if he spoke? He wasn’t sure. Still, he needed answers - and she was the only one with the power to give them to him. “You’re the mother of Graypool’s kits.” He mewed, giving a voice to the thought that had been swirling around in his mind since the confrontation with Sandstorm. It wasn’t a question; he knew it to be true, just as well as she did.

He stared at her, his heart racing even as he wondered if she had heard him. He was just about to repeat himself when, to his surprise, she looked up to meet his gaze. “So you figured it out.” She sighed at last, shaking her coat out slightly. “I suspected you would, eventually. Curiosity has always been the prerogative of the young.”

“You-” He didn’t know what to say to that, staring at her in the dark quiet of the den. Then a realization struck him, like a lightning bolt striking a dead tree, and fury blazed white-hot inside his heart. “You knew I would? Then why did you lie to me? Why did you tell me it was mere gossip and nonsense? Graypool told me their mother was dead or exiled - I wouldn’t have given it another thought, and-” He cut himself off as a lump formed in his throat. If she’d just listened to him, Tigerclaw wouldn’t have stayed deputy. Even if he hadn’t been exiled, his betrayal could never have happened, and Fireheart wouldn’t be-

“Because I had hoped I was wrong, and that you would be more loyal to your leader’s word.” She snapped at him, and for a moment he was suddenly overwhelmed with a fear that she would attack him - a fear that only grew as she rose out of her nest. “Come. I would rather talk without the potential for listening ears.” She mewed, flicking her tail for him to follow as she left the den.

He watched her leave, his mouth slightly agape. Mere heartbeats ago she had been only a gray lump of fur in her nest, yet now her head was held high as she proudly stepped out through the lichen curtains, her fur shining silver in the weak sunlight. It was such a dramatic shift in mere moments - a sudden return of the leader which he had admired for so long. Perhaps, he hoped as he nodded respectfully once more to Whitestorm, this meant that she would soon return to being the leader she had always been - and that she would finally find another cat to be Thunderclan’s true deputy.

They exited the bramble tunnel, heading down the ravine towards the clearing at the end. “When I-”

“There’s two sentries at the end of the ravine here.” He interrupted her before she could say anything, waving his tail to Lionheart and Thornpaw as they approached. Cinderspark and Peppermask would be relieving them from sentry duty shortly, but for now the pair of golden tabbies remained.

“There are? Why? For what reason was I not informed?” The leader frowned back at him, her blue eyes glittering with unreadable emotions as she glanced distrustfully towards the two toms as they passed.

“They’re watching the stream to make sure the flood doesn’t reach our camp. The river has flooded more than usual, you see, and there were worries that it might reach the ravine. We wanted a warning in case we needed to evacuate camp suddenly.” He paused at her last question, unsure how to answer it. Normally, he was certain that she would have been told, but with the state she’d been in…

“I see.” Her eyes were clouded and half-lidded, seemingly unsatisfied with his answer, but she didn’t stop to argue with him. Instead they continued onwards, climbing up the opposite ravine slope and heading out into the forest. Fireheart realized that they were heading towards the Twolegplace; fear gripped him as he wondered if she was planning on exiling him, too, but he forced his pawsteps to match hers as they wandered past bramble bushes that were still bare from leafbare.

The birds were chirping above them; his mouth watered at the thought of catching one, but he stayed loyally by his leader’s side, waiting for her to speak. She was silent, her eyes scanning the forest for unseen enemies, her ears twitching back and forth at every noise. “Only the dawn patrols will be out right now.” He mewed after several moments, wondering if she was worried about any other cat listening in. “Everyone else is back at camp.”

She nodded listlessly at him as she continued searching, and he realized she must be worried about a different kind of threat. Tigerclaw and Brokentail’s rogues (Tigerclaw’s rogues now, he supposed) had not been scented since the day of the betrayal, though Fireheart had kept a strict eye on the Shadowclan border and Twolegplace border nonetheless. Still, he couldn’t help but feel nervous that one day, Tigerclaw would make good on his threats. There was certainly never a better time than now, when both the leader and her deputy were out on the territory together.

“Did you know that there was once a prophecy about me?” Bluestar spoke at last, finally turning her icy gaze on him as she seemed to decide that they were safe. They had halted in a small oak grove, the ground covered in fallen leaves. They were still wet from all the rain, but Fireheart tried not to pay that any mind as he sat down.

He blinked at the question, but as he thought back he realized he had - long ago. “Dewpaw said Spottedleaf had mentioned it to her, once.” He mewed with a dip of his head, the mention of prophecies making him recall what Yellowfang had told him - about the prophecy that Shadowclan had received about him defeating Brokentail. Did Bluestar know about it? Should he tell her? No, he thought to himself - there was no reason to bring up the buried past.

She dipped her head and looked away. “‘A child born of storms approaches, who will roar through the forest with a tempest’s fury.’ That was what Starclan told my uncle Goosefeather, many seasons ago.” She glanced at her deputy to see him shift uncomfortably at the mention of the old healer. “I see you’ve already heard of him. He was a brilliant healer, but plagued often by visions - visions that often made little sense, even after they came to pass. He struggled often with the weight of his duties, a weight that few cats realize. He did his best, but his best often wasn’t enough for the Clan.”

“In any case,” She continued after a few heartbeats, her eyes wandering out into the forest once more, “When he received the prophecy from Starclan, he claimed to know immediately it was about me. My father’s name was Stormtail, so I was storm-born, or so he claimed.” She sighed again and shook her head. “But Pinestar didn’t believe him. He thought that the prophecy was referring to Adderfang - Adderpaw, then. He was born in a ferocious storm, you see, one where each strike shook the very ground beneath our paws while the rain poured down so heavily the Clan feared that our camp would wash away. Pinestar argued that only a kit born in such a storm could be called storm-born.”

Fireheart’s lip curled at the memory of the warrior - the one that had mentored Tigerclaw, and driven his apprentice to attack Tinyfrost. “I see you’ve also heard of him. Adderfang was many things, few of them good, but that was not always the case. He was an apprentice once, and had the potential to do great things.” She mewed, looking to him for only heartbeats before looking away once more. “Perhaps he would have, had it not been for the prophecy.”

“You must understand; back in those days, there was no peace with Windclan. Riverclan had taken much of the hunting territory we enjoy along the riverbank; even Shadowclan was more aggressive when it came to stealing our prey.” She closed her eyes with another bitter sigh. “Thunderclan was desperate to fight back. Us ‘storm-born’ were to be righteous champions that took back what was ours. There was enormous pressure on us to do what needed to be done; we were not to waste time with playing, or relaxing, or any number of other things the Clan believed to be unnecessary. We were to be the Clan’s greatest warriors, and we had to do it as soon as we possibly could.”

Fireheart shuddered as he considered that. He had wanted to prove himself, to be the greatest apprentice that Thunderclan had ever seen. While there had been pressure from cats to do what the Clan needed, from both the living and the dead, none had expected so much from him. “That sounds awful.” He mewed to break the silence. “Were you even allowed to be a kit?”

Her sad glance at him told him all he needed to know. “I handled it well, all things considered. Adderpaw did not. He often lashed out at me, as his rival - I sometimes wonder if he believed that if I stopped doing as well as I did, then some of the pressure might be relieved from him. It never worked, but… although I often want to blame him, I believe he was just the product of his environment, as I was.”

“The pressure only intensified once we were both warriors. We did what we could - we were the last apprentices to fight against Windclan, and he and I were both in several key battles along the riverbank that helped reclaim our territory. But as the expectations of the Clan grew… I must confess, there were times I wanted to run away from it all.” Bluestar glanced down at her silver paws, considering what she wanted to say. “And then I met Oakheart.”

“Every cat from Thunderclan refused to see me as a cat - as anything other than their savior. I could barely talk to them without them mentioning how nice it would be to have Sunningrocks again, or that they were looking forward to chasing Shadowclan off across the Thunderpath for good. Oakheart was the first cat that didn’t care about the prophecy, or what I was fated to do. He wanted to know me for who I was, not what I could do for him.”

A shy smile lit up her muzzle, a look that Fireheart had never seen on her face before. “I treasured every moment I got to spend with him. Our time together was forbidden, of course, as one of those things that was not strictly necessary for saving the Clan - not to mention that he was from Riverclan. But I didn’t care. I wanted something, anything, that I could have all to myself - without having to endure the Clan’s comments on whether it was appropriate of me to do.”

Fireheart nodded slowly as she spoke. He understood, in a way, what she was talking about. He was in constant worry of what the Clan thought of him now that he was deputy - and before that, when he was a mere apprentice, he had received all manner of comments on his kittypet status. Clan cats certainly weren’t shy about sharing their thoughts and opinions, a fact he knew well. That was why he had so deeply enjoyed his meetings with Princess - she hadn’t cared about how much prey he’d caught, or how loyal he was to the Clan. To her, he was a warrior, and that had been enough.

“As time went on, and we became closer, I found myself wishing that I could have something like him in my own Clan. Someone who loved me unconditionally.” Bluestar’s shoulders slumped as she spoke, her spine showing through her fur. “Having kits, of course, was the most forbidden of all for me - after all, a queen cannot hunt or fight while she’s nursing. But carrying Oakheart’s kits, I found I no longer cared whether the Clan shunned me for breaking from what they wanted. All I could think of was how beautiful they would be, how I would raise them to be proud Thunderclan kits - kits that would play, and laugh, and have all the freedom in the world that I did not.”

“But that didn’t happen.” Fireheart glanced towards where he knew Sunningrocks to be - where Bluestar’s kits were huddled miserably on the stone stacks, waiting for the flood to recede. “Why did you give them up?”

“I didn’t want to.” Bluestar sighed, and he could see her throat tighten as she spoke. “I wanted so badly to keep them. But a moon into my pregnancy, my uncle approached me. He told me that kits were not what Starclan had planned for me; that I had to fulfill my destiny, not waste away in the nursery. I kindly told him what I thought of his destiny.” Her whiskers twitched, and for a moment he imagined her furiously yowling at the healer. She could be terrifying when angry; he couldn’t imagine what Goosefeather had thought. “But then he told me that Tawnyspots, Pinestar’s deputy, was dying. He had come down with a rare sickness; one that is not contagious, but saps away your strength over seasons until there is nothing left at all.”

His ears perked in surprise. That almost sounded like what had happened to Bluestar after Tigerclaw betrayed her; could she have become ill with the very same disease? “I thought it was a ploy, but when I asked another healer; Brambleberry, Riverclan’s healer before Mudwish; she admitted that the sickness was real. Oakheart’s father had died to it that very moon. It took seasons for signs to show, but once they did, it was always fatal.”

“Every cat knew that either Adderfang or myself would become leader one day. It was only a matter of time.” Her ears were low as she recounted everything to him. “But Tawnyspots was young, and we both thought there would be more time. Because of the sickness, it was only a matter of moons before Tawnyspots retired. That would not be a problem normally, but because of my kits, I would be stuck in the nursery. There would be only one choice for deputy, and that was Adderfang.”

“I couldn’t let him be deputy.” Bluestar growled, even as her voice was thick with sorrow. “I had no choice. I had to get rid of my kits. I knew Oakheart would be a good father - and when I spoke to him about it, he told me he knew of a Riverclan queen that would be willing to take them. So I brought them, less than a moon old, to Sunningrocks. I let him take them away. Then I returned to camp with fox dung, tore a hole in the nursery, and let the Clan deduce the rest.”

“Though they might not have agreed with my choice to have kits, the Clan grieved for me nonetheless. And I grieved too - for the loss of the brightest future I could have hoped to have in Thunderclan.” He saw a tear shimmer softly in the morning light as it fell down her silver cheek. “From then on, I knew I could only be one thing - the savior of Thunderclan. There was no room for me to be anything else.”

“After a moon of grieving, I rejoined the Clan. I was given my nephew, Whitekit, as an apprentice - and Adderfang was given Tigerkit, Pinestar’s only son, as his. There were times I thought that my sacrifice would be for nothing.” Her claws poked briefly through her silver paws before she retracted them again. “Perhaps it would have been, had it not been for Adderfang himself. We were on a Twolegplace patrol, when we found a kittypet kit trespassing. He - it was so small, merely a moon old at most, and frozen in fear at the sight of us. It would have been enough to send it running home to its mother, but Adderfang-”

“He ordered Tigerpaw to attack.” Fireheart finished for her. She glanced at him in surprise. “Tinyfrost told me his perspective. He was telling me how he joined Thunderclan, and… it came up.” He didn’t want to throw it in her face that even Tinyfrost had known how horrible Tigerclaw was.

“I see. It’s always been rare for him to show other cats such trust… though I admit that was why I paired him with you. I had hoped your bright, eager nature would get him to open up.” She briefly wiped at her face with a paw, smudging the tear stains that ran down her cheeks. “Then you know I brought him back to camp for healing. I couldn’t- I feared if I left him there alone, he would die before his mother found him. It also happened that he was perfect proof of Adderfang breaking the warrior code, evidence that no cat could deny.”

“Pinestar punished him, of course, but it wasn’t until a half-moon or so later that the real punishment came. Tawnyspots retired to the elders’ den, too weak to continue his duties, and I was named deputy in that same ceremony. There was only one choice, thanks to Adderfang’s actions.” Bluestar wrapped her tail around her paws and shivered slightly. “It was only a season or two after that when Pinestar left. I became leader, with Redtail as my deputy. I led Thunderclan to new heights, a more prosperous era than Pinestar had ever dreamed of. But was it worth it?” She shook her head once more with another heavy sigh. “I used to think it was.”

 Fireheart watched her, once again a small and frail shell of a cat rather than the stately leader he had admired for so long. But while he resented the duties that she had dumped on him by naming him deputy, he found he couldn’t resent her in her current vulnerable state. He couldn’t blame her for asking if being Thunderclan’s savior was worth it - she had sacrificed her kithood, her mate, her kits, and in many ways her entire life just to save Thunderclan. And after all of that, what had she gotten?

Though she laid in her den all day, Fireheart could hear the constant criticisms of the Clan - criticisms he doubted had changed much since she had first become leader. None in the Clan were able to appreciate what she had given them - least of all Tigerclaw, who saw her sense of justice and mercy as weakness. She had sacrificed everything, and still it hadn’t been enough for him. It would never have been enough for him, unless she gave all her lives in its defense, so that he could lead in her stead. She knew that as well as he did - and in that cold fact, he began to understand why she would never want to leave her nest again. Why should she, when it would never be enough?

The two sat in silence for several moments, lost in their own thoughts. But as he mulled over everything she had said to him, more questions began to form in his mind. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why was everyone so focused on the two of you? After all, Snowstorm was your littermate - that made her as ‘storm-born’ as you. And what about Adderfang? Did he not have any siblings?”

She shifted slightly in surprise as he spoke. “I… Snowstorm was always so impulsive. She had a habit of closing her ears to anyone that tried to order her around. I suppose my uncle thought that I was more likely to fulfill the prophecy - or, perhaps, that not even Starclan could control her destiny.” Though her whiskers twitched, her voice lacked the mirth of a joke. “As for Adderfang… he did have one sibling. A brother - one that still lives, actually. You know him as Halftail.”

Shock jolted through him at the mention of the oldest elder. He was the brother of such a despicable tom? He realized Bluestar was looking at him with a mixture of sadness and something else he couldn’t place. “He’s quite different from his brother, isn’t he? He’s never had the same relentless drive as Adderfang. He’s a strong and fine warrior, but it takes a different kind of strength to lead. Pinestar himself lacked that strength.”

“I’m sure you’ve felt it already - how the weight of the Clan rests on your shoulders as you sit atop the Highrock.” Bluestar continued. His pelt prickled as he recalled how it had felt to look down upon the Clan when he had called them together for the Gathering. She turned away, even as her eyes sparkled with recognition of his discomfort. “A warrior’s life is about the Clan; caring for each member as though they were your own family, and fighting fiercely for them, even at the cost of your own life. A leader’s life is different - though I may talk to them, and watch them grow, I will always be separate from them. I am relegated to watching them as they go about their lives, placed upon the lofty pedestal that is the Highrock.”

She sighed and shook her pelt out as a breeze blew past them, carrying with it a familiar leafbare chill. “I may fight for them, and die for them, but even that greatest of sacrifices that a warrior can make is stripped of its meaning by Starclan’s nine lives. They will bring me back, over and over, so that I can watch the Clan continue on without me, until that day comes when I can finally - finally - rest.”

For a moment, Fireheart saw himself sitting in Bluestar’s place - a warrior that had been prophesied to save the Clan, forced to grow up too fast and too soon to save the Clans from themselves. He could see himself old and weary, his ginger pelt ragged as it stretched across his slumped shoulderblades. Everything he had worked so hard for would be forgotten with time; his family gone; the only thing left a Clan that hated him…

He took a shuddering breath, trying to focus on why he had spoken to Bluestar in the first place. “Bluestar, I… I have a confession to make.” He mewed guiltily, watching as her eyes turned back to him. He hoped she would understand his reasons - especially, he imagined, now that he knew her kits were part of Riverclan.

She studied him for a long moment, and he had to wonder what she was thinking. “Is this about Graystripe and Silverstream?” The silver leader responded quietly.

“It- what?” He blinked at her in shock. “You know…?”

She chuffed, though the mirth did not meet her eyes. “I see everything up on the Great Rock, Fireheart. I saw you flee back to camp after Brokentail called Yellowfang a kit-killer; I saw you and Peppermask sneak off into Windclan territory; and yes, I saw you speaking to Mistyskip and Graypool. At the time, I had believed… I hadn’t realized…” She trailed off, her blue eyes clouding for a moment before she shook her head. “In any case, it was not so long ago that I was once in love with a Riverclanner myself. I know all too well the signs to look for, not that those two were particularly subtle.”

Fireheart huffed bitterly. “Don’t I know it.” He growled, claws flexing as he recalled Graystripe bursting into camp to tell him the news of his half-Clan kits. “But I don’t understand - it’s against the code, isn’t it? Why didn’t you stop them?”

“Like you tried to stop them?” Her whiskers twitched as he flinched. “I only had my suspicions, really. Besides, I know from experience how futile it would be to get in the way of love. Only the consequences of their actions will be able to stop them now.” She sighed and shook her head. “Crookedstar, of course, tried to force Silverstream to stop. He too has already lost so much of his family; he didn’t want to lose his daughter to the inevitable. But to my understanding, that only brought them closer together.”

Fireheart blinked in surprise, suddenly recalling how Crookedstar had argued with Bluestar over Graystripe’s intrusions while meeting Silverstream. Was that what Bluestar meant? Then he remembered what Graypool had said to him about her meeting with Crookedstar, after Oakheart had brought her his kits; how he’d seemed to know before she told him, and told her not to worry about their Thunderclan mother. He’d know then, Fireheart realized; had he tried to stop Oakheart then, as well? Had he fought with his brother over his Thunderclan mate, just like Fireheart and Graystripe had fought over Silverstream?

“I didn’t want to tell you.” Fireheart mewed suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could even think them. “That day I fought Graystripe - I’d tried to get Silverstream to break it off, and Graystripe attacked me for it. I was afraid to tell you then, out of fear that you would exile him. Did you know then? Would you have exiled him?”

Her gaze was unreadable as she looked him over. “I had my suspicions then, yes.” She admitted slowly. “Which is part of why I punished him so harshly. And while I was disappointed in both of you, exile would not have solved anything. It is a terrible sentence - one that should only be given when there are no other options. You are both fine warriors. The Clan would suffer greatly without either of you.” She looked away, eyes darkening, and he wondered if she was thinking of the two recently exiled toms. “As much as I wish you would have told me, I understand why you didn’t. You are so loyal to those you care for - asking you to break that loyalty would be like asking a bird not to fly. It is part of what makes you such a great warrior, even if it does cause great trouble at times.”

The praise felt like claws raking across his heart. “Speaking of great trouble…” He did his best to give her a light, teasing grin, though it ended up looking like a grimace of  pain. In his head, he’d planned to give her a long, heartwarming speech, but now he found himself having trouble saying anything at all. “Bluestar, I… I’ve been giving prey to Riverclan.” He finally forced out, staring down at his paws and cringing as he waited for her scolding.

She was silent for a long time - too many heartbeats for him to count. When he finally looked up, squinting fearfully, he found her watching him with a surprising lack of hostility, given how every other Clan cat would react. “Fireheart, I told you once that you always try to do the right thing. I know that to be true, even more so now than I did when I first said it. For that reason alone, I am willing to hear you out.” Even as she said it, her tail tip began to waver, as it always did when trouble was brewing. “So tell me, then. Why are you giving our prey to Riverclan?”

He took a deep breath in and out. Bluestar had always been fair before. Even though she had faltered in the past season, he knew she would listen to reason now that everything was out in the open. “You haven’t seen the floods, Bluestar, but even Whitestorm says that they’re the worst that they’ve ever been - they’ve even reached the roots of the Owltree. All of Riverclan territory is gone. The waters are thick and difficult to navigate, and it’s too cold for the fish to swim in. It’s been four days since the river flooded, and it still has yet to go down - and it probably won’t for another quarter-moon.”

The leader’s eyes were downcast as she glanced away from him, towards the river. He could only imagine what she was thinking - though he didn’t dare to ask. “They’re already starving from leafbare, and now they have no way to feed themselves. Their camp was washed away in the flood, so now they’re huddled on the stones of Sunningrocks, waiting for the flood to go down. I know the warrior code says to be loyal to Thunderclan first, but it also says that we can’t neglect a kit, no matter their origin, and Peppermask said-”

“Peppermask? I thought you said that you were the one giving our prey away.” Bluestar interrupted him, her eyes narrowing. His heart pounded in his chest, suddenly afraid that he had just gotten the others in trouble as well. After he’d promised them that he’d take care of it…

“Peppermask and Graystripe are helping me.” He responded as he sank a little lower to the ground under her withering glare. “But we- They- I was out with them to investigate how far the flooding went into our territory when we heard kits crying. They were going to drown in the river, so we rescued them. That’s how I know about how hard it is to swim in the river right now.” He thought he could see his leader’s eyes softening, and took a deep breath to try and relax. “They were Riverclan kits, of course, and almost skin and bones. Peppermask said that they must have gone a quarter-moon, at least, without food to look the way they did. That’s why- I didn’t want to rescue the kits, only to hear that they had died of starvation when we could have helped.”

The ginger deputy watched as Bluestar’s gaze wandered away, her brows furrowed as she thought over what he had told her. “I see.” She commented softly, looking back at him. “And Peppermask and Graystripe - they agreed to this?”

He blinked slowly at her, trying to understand what she was asking. “I didn’t force them to help, if that’s what you’re asking. They both volunteered to do it on their own.” While Graystripe’s motive was less than pure, he knew that Peppermask was doing it for the same reasons he was - that they didn’t want to sit by and watch cats suffer. “We’re not taking from the freshkill pile to do it - we’ve been hunting near Tallpines, where the rest of the Clan won’t go because of the Monsters, and giving them most of what we catch. And we’re doing it all on top of our regular duties. I promise, we’re all still loyal to Thunderclan. We just can’t idly watch Riverclan die when we could help.”

The two Thunderclanners scrutinized each other, the forest still and quiet around them. Fireheart couldn’t tell what she was thinking - was she mad at him? He suddenly noticed her tail had stopped flickering. Surely that was a good sign, right?

Finally, she raised her chin, her decision made. “While I wish that you had brought this to me first, instead of taking it upon yourself to right the wrongs of nature, I believe that you had good intentions. As long as you are fulfilling your duties to the Clan, and the entire Clan is fed before any prey goes to Riverclan, then you are not breaking the warrior code, and I will not punish you.” She flicked her tail towards the river. “However, you are not to involve any cat that does not want to be involved, and you are only to give Riverclan prey as long as the river floods this moon, no more than that. Is that clear?”

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief and nodded. “Of course, Bluestar. That is all I promised Crookedstar we would do. Once the floodwaters leave Sunningrocks, Riverclan will hunt for themselves once more.”

Her ears perked curiously as he spoke. “Crookedstar himself agreed to this? And I thought that stubborn old badger would rather die than accept help.” She shook her head wryly as her whiskers twitched in amusement. “And what of Riverclan? What is their end of the bargain?”

“We… convinced him to accept our help.” Fireheart recalled how the Riverclan leader had reacted when they’d extended the offer, as though they were trying to trick him. Did that have to do with his brother’s past with Bluestar? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “Riverclan- they haven’t crossed our borders, aside from those sent to pick up prey from us. We… I told them we didn’t want anything in return. I just wanted to help. Not everything needs to be an equal exchange, does it?”

He tried to appraise how Bluestar reacted to his words, but she was still as she looked out into the forest, towards where Sunningrocks stood. “As true as you may desire that to be, I doubt Crookedstar will so easily forget this. He is the sort of cat for whom honor is about repaying debts. Saving his Clan is not a debt that he will want to stand unpaid.” She considered it for several more heartbeats. “And it certainly wouldn’t hurt Thunderclan to be owed such a favor by Crookedstar.”

He wrinkled his nose up bitterly. As much as he could understand why Clan cats viewed every gift as some sort of personal sacrifice, surely life together was more important? Was it not better for cats to live in the Clans than to have to go to Starclan too early, when there was so much more they could do for the forest? Perhaps it was his shallow kittypet roots, but it felt more important to him to try and preserve life than to worry about favors and debts.

“I know, Fireheart.” The young deputy blinked out of his thoughts as Bluestar spoke, having seen his face. “I will not treat what you have done as a petty favor to bargain with, like some cats might. But surely even you can agree that it is better to have allies, even begrudging ones, than enemies?”

Fireheart had to admit that he couldn’t find fault in her words. “As long as you promise not to use it against Crookedstar without my permission.” He mewed at last. Perhaps Bluestar was right; the time would come when it was necessary for Thunderclan to obtain help from Riverclan, but he hoped that that day would not come any time soon.

Within a heartbeat, Bluestar drew herself up haughtily, glaring down at her deputy as her tail tip began to waver once more.“You’re hardly in a position to be bargaining with me, given many cats would call what you did an unacceptable breach of the code.” The ginger tom flinched, icy fear suddenly flowing through his veins as he crouched down in submission. “Nor does a leader have to ask ‘permission’ from any of her Clanmates - a leader’s word is law.”

The two sat there in silence for a long, painful moment, as his heart raced with panic. She was right - Fireheart had overstepped his bounds. Would she renege on their agreement? Would she punish him after all? They’d been talking so well - she’d seemed to have finally relaxed - 

“Still, I will do what I can to honor your word. Thunderclan and Riverclan have been at each other’s throats for so long… enough blood has been shed into that star-forsaken river.” Fireheart looked up to see that her tail had stopped flicking, and that she almost seemed to be smiling as she gazed down on her deputy. Was she - amused? It seemed impossible, but as he slowly straightened back up, he could see her whiskers twitching at his reaction. “It would be nice to be able to help each other for a change.”

With that, she turned to stare off into the forest once again, and he wondered if she was thinking about her kits. Had it been agonizing, having to constantly lead cats into battle knowing that it could be the death of her children? Or had she trusted that they had been raised into fine warriors that would survive the heat of any battle? Perhaps she had wanted peace for so long, but been unable to push for it out of fear that her ties to Riverclan would be revealed. Now that Fireheart had come along and-

“We should return to camp. I am sure you have patrols to get to, and Whitestorm is likely worrying his whiskers off about me in this cold.” Fireheart was whisked out of his thoughts by Bluestar’s voice, and he nodded reluctantly as they both stood and began walking back to camp. It felt as though their talk had finally laid bare the mysteries and questions that had swarmed not just around Bluestar but Fireheart and even Thunderclan as a whole. It was as if he was finally wading out of murky, unknown depths onto solid ground.

He wondered if Bluestar was feeling the same way. As he glanced over at her, he noticed that her head seemed to be raised higher than before, that her tail was no longer dragging through the slush on the ground. It was as if an invisible burden had been lifted from her, one that no cat had noticed she was carrying. Perhaps that was what had kept the once-mighty leader from healing from Tigerclaw’s attack, and now she - and the Clan - could finally move on.

He prayed to Starclan that was the case.

[midnightsun-if]

So Cyrus/Cyra’s, dream is to cuddle us…. In their nest. So…. How literal is that phrase? Are we up in Mount Everest freezing and sleeping on sticks? Getting cuddled by the person that will leave and bring back a dead cow since there’s not exactly a restaurant around. Looking at us like a cat who brought home a mouse?

When it comes to Phoenixes it’s a literal nest— very comfy, if I may add. However, you don’t have to worry about freezing (though you would have to worry about potentially being heat stricken). As the place Phoenixes make their nest is a dormant volcano (that has enchanted stones to constantly give off heat). Due to the fact that C is part of the Royal Family their nesting area would be at the top. To be invited is a great honor as it’s one of the most treasured places that Phoenixes hold.

If the MC would go with them then proper preparations would be made— protection runes/stable supply of blood/etc— so you wouldn’t have to worry about that.

[genius-in-training]

[There's a box outside your door. Within is a number of items. There are four small, hatchling safe blankets- one dark grey with little purple stars, the other three black and white stripes, with one having equal sized stripes and the others having slightly bigger stripes of either white or black- with a note saying they're for Amber and CC

There's a small cat toy- a little grey mouse with a red feather for a tail- with a note saying it's for Cobalt

There's a small box of medical supplies, mostly the items that you've used on patching up Rise Donnie

There's also a small notebook. It's a diagnostic scan of your security system, outlining each potential risk and every point that might be outdated.

But there's also notes complimenting and praising your ideas and your code, and each 'problem' pointed out is followed by a detailed explanation of why, and ideas of how to patch or improve it.

There's a note in the front, reading

'Yi. Merry Christmas! I wanted to thank you again for everything, and I thought, what better way than to help with keeping everyone safe? I know you've been super busy being a mom and a babysitter (sorry) lately, and I remembered that you were a bit concerned with the upkeep of your security system after the sleeping gas incident. So, I took the liberty of running through a diagnostic scan and putting together some notes for you. Don't worry! I did not touch the code! I'm not a heathen. But, I figured it might be nice to have the results of a diagnostic scan in a format more convenient for sitting on the couch, rather than at the computer. Also, while I don't mean to intrude on your role here, it can be helpful to hear some input from an outside source every once in a while. -Donnie']

( @the-one-and-only-dontron )

*Yi sits down, reading the note before flipping through the notebook. Happily humming, she puts it right next to her laptop. Then she gives the blankets to the hatchlings, making sure that Amber and CC got the right one and wrapping them loosely in it. She puts the toy for Cobalt in her nest*

[the-whumpening]

The Freed Tiger | (Ash's Recovery Arc, Part 2)

Prev | Masterpost | Next

CW: mention of knives, potential noncon drugging

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

Ash sits patiently at the rough wooden table in the kitchen, too dazed to think and too tired to protest. Behind him, Krumgus bustles about, chattering absentmindedly as he cooks. In almost no time, a spread of meats, cheeses, and bread are laid out before Ash. He flinches at the abrupt sound of scraping chairs against the hard stone floor; Krumgus and Evius each take a seat at the table as well.

“Yeah, I was a little peckish too, so I made enough for everyone,” Krumgus admits. From around the corner, a nest of pink curls peeks in.

“Did someone make food? Oh!” Mouse’s eyes meet Ash, and she smiles almost apologetically. “Hey, bud—are you . . . Are you doing okay? I thought you were getting a bath?” She slinks into a chair next to him, reaching out but not quite touching his arm.

Evius distracts her with the plate of cheese. “It was . . . a little much for him,” he mutters in explanation. As Ash picks at his food, he catches Evius’ eyes flickering between himself and Mouse. “I thought maybe some food would help.” His brow pinches at the sight of Ash only pushing the food on his plate. “It’s okay, Ash. You can have as much as you want; just . . . please eat something.”

Instructions. He can work with that. If he just does as he’s told, maybe things will be okay. That’s what Faye always said, anyway. His stomach twists at the thought of her—should they have left her behind? Why should he be freed but not her? But then again . . . did she deserve to be free? Did she even want it?

Ash shovels a handful of bread into his mouth, drowning out the thought. It doesn’t matter . . . It’s not like this will be forever, he reminds himself. I can’t let my guard down so quickly.

A glint of silver catches his eye beneath the plate of bread: a knife? He never had the chance to arm himself when he was Ozmund’s prisoner; a part of him wonders if he should take the opportunity. With the exhaustion finally crashing around him, he knows he won’t have enough energy to fight fully-raged. As soon as he has a moment without eyes on him, he swipes the knife and tucks it beneath him in one swift motion. Just in case.

With no immediate threats and his belly finally full, Ash fights to maintain his tight concentration. He was used to long periods of boredom, but Ozmund’s most recent experiment in sleep deprivation left him drained and hesitant to even attempt to doze. Of course, he wonders if he’s not asleep right now—is this the latest vivid dream Ozmund has cooked up to torture him? Ash dreads the mocking he’ll endure when he finally wakes.

He snaps his eyelids back open from where they’d drifted closed against his will. He’s held on so far; he’s certain he can wait this out.

Evius frowns and stands from the table. “Why don’t I make some tea? I still have some of Kane’s herbal mix.”

Ash’s heart aches at the name. In all the time he’d been gone, the memories of Kane helped keep him from sinking under; how he’d regretted letting his mind wander to those comfortable places, allowing Ozmund access to his most cherished thoughts.

When the steaming cup is placed before him, his nose twitches at the smell. Mild, citrusy, distinctly green—it has all the notes he remembers. It’s not perfectly the same, but even Kane’s had variation. He takes a deep sip, trying to enjoy the scent and taste without permitting it to conjure memories. But something is . . . off.

Beneath the familiar honey-and-lemon is a bitterness he recalls all too well. He leaps to his feet, dropping the mug and snagging the knife from beneath his leg.

“Ash! What’s wrong?” Evius throws his hands up defensively. “What are you doing?” Behind him, Mouse scurries backwards, holding her chair in front of her.

Krumgus, as always, is unperturbed. “Why are you threatening Evius with a butter knife?”

Ash glances down at the knife in his hand. In his haste, he’d failed to realize his impromptu weapon was little more than paltry cutlery; he could’ve sworn it was more impressive.

“Just–just stay put, okay?” Evius bargains. “You’re gonna get hurt stepping on the shards. Just put down the knife and let me clean them up, okay?”

Ash’s hands shake with rage and fear as he juts the dull blade forward. He won’t be made a fool of again. Not again. Even as he grows drowsy and begins to sway, his rough voice croaks out, “You . . . You put something in, in my drink! Devil’s herb!”

Evius’ face crumples. “It was just–just coriander and chamomile!” he insists. “I just wanted to help you sleep. No one is trying to hurt you, love. I swear!”

The image of Evius in front of him grows blurry, and he struggles to keep his head aloft. For just a moment, he nearly feels clear and lucid.

“Don’t,” Ash begs, his voice finally breaking. “Don’t do this to me.”

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

[keirawantstocry]

🐦‍⬛ Salut!

Pancake polycule Idea

Jaiden waking with a scream, having had a nightmare (about her canon death lmao). Panicking trying to calm herself, to be quiet as to not wake the others. But the others in the polycule's shared house definitely heard. Mouse and Baghera bursting through the door quickly and start helping Jaiden, going to either side of her fretting over her. Then Niki comes in and joins them, curling into Jaiden's lap purring to try to calm her, Jaiden's hands finding their way to the vats hair, the motion of petting her hair helping. Finally Bagi trudges in, holding Tina's hand and yawning slightly, Tina holding a very worried looking Em. Em wiggling out of her eomma's arms and scampering over to check her ma. All of them crowding together in Jaiden's nest bed, reassuring Jaiden, and eventually all falling asleep in their pile.

i love the idea of jaiden having a will to live here because of this support system that she has. her family that she has to live for. i think it truly has so much potential. i just love angsty family dynamics (<-says the spn fan) the repeated cycle of sacrificing every thing for each other.

just the angst potenial of jaiden worrying she isn't good enough for this family, to raise a child, but the women constantly reassuring her that she is and that Em loves her

[ivoryminitower]

Seasonal Sports

Something a little different for the holiday season.

The bow sat at its usual place, high up on the lamppost, a dull red in the artificial light, slightly raggedy around the edges from the hard use to which it had been put.  Green tinsel garlands double-helixed up the lamppost to reach it.

A pair of eyes studied the bow from a bush on the other side of the sidewalk.  Perhaps more eyes watched -- the evening's contestant certainly hoped they watched -- but for the moment he could only be sure of his own.

He hoped there weren't any cats among the potential watchers.  This wasn't really a cat neighborhood, and it had gotten a bit cold for the average household prowler, but you never really knew until the claws were in your back.

Bit by bit he became visible at the base of the boxwood: a twitching nose, bright black eyes, pulled back ears, long narrow paws, a small, lean but muscular body, and a trembling tail.  He stayed very still as he took in the sights, the sounds and the smells of the night.  No apparent danger, except for the obvious, so he advanced.

Cold rough concrete under his paws...acres of it, to him, a vast distance just from the bush to the post, and seeming to stretch off to infinity on either side.  Dark at first, then gradually lightening as it, and he, got closer to the post.  He became much more distinctly a moving grey shape on the pale beige artificial stone.

Feeling with every step the inevitability of a predator's strike, or even a bumbling human striding out of the dark, he finally reached the base of the post.  He took a moment to get over his surprise, then reached up and hooked claws into the shiny tinsel.  He pulled himself up and began to climb.

It was a substantial post.  A human would require a stepladder to reach the top.  A squirrel would seem to fly up it.  A cat wouldn't bother.  A mouse, clinging desperately to the string and the colored plastic, had to follow the twists and turns of the garland around the post, making fresh decisions at each juncture.

He paused halfway up to peer at the bushes down below and the trees nearby.  Did he have an audience tonight?  Did he have peers eager to see him succeed, or at least looking to be entertained if he fell?  He wouldn't know until he got back to the nest.  If he got back.

The wind picked up as he got higher.  His small body, held close against the post by his death grip on the garland, didn't present much of a target to the wind, but it still sucked heat out of him and stung his eyes.  It had to be borne, though...there was only one time of the year that the bows appeared, and it was almost never warm.

His claws hooked into the last wrappings of garland at the top.  He paused for a breather, and risked a glance downward.  It was many, many times the size of his body to the ground.  He knew he was going down again...he just had to make sure it would be slowly.

Tearing his gaze from the down, he looked up at his objective.  He had to climb up just a little further and get through whatever was holding the bow on.  At first it had simply been more ribbon, but with successive contestants the bow had been held up by more and more substantial means -- tape and string and stronger ribbon, and even a hard plastic cord that a mouse wouldn't recognize as an electronics cable tie.  He'd heard that had taken a lot of chewing, but wasn't impossible to get through.  He wondered if that's what he would be facing tonight.

No.  This time it was wire.  Whatever human had the job of repositioning the bow every morning had apparently decided to up the ante.

The contestant contemplated the wire, tested it with his teeth.  It gleamed wickedly in the light of the lamppost, and had a cold taste in his mouth.  It was different from stone...a stone in the teeth was simply a nuisance to spit out and ignore.  The wire felt like it was there to put up a fight.

With more time and less wind he might have gnawed at it until it weakened enough, but he didn't have all night to struggle.  He worked his way around the post, looking for weaknesses in the wire, finally finding where the ends had been twisted together.  He didn't know much about knots, and wasn't a student of topology, but he could understand moving the wire away from itself until the strands separated.  Then he pulled at one end until the other appeared.

Moving back to the bow, he saw where the wire had gone through holes in the ribbon, which was now the only thing holding the bow in place.  He paused a moment, gathering a little courage, then leaned forward to hook his claws into the body of the bow.  He twisted his neck, nipped at the last bit of ribbon holding the bow in place...

And jumped.

The feeling was indescribable.  Surrounded by nothing but air, held there by his grip on the bow, he finally took a good look at the ground so very far away.  It tipped, it twisted, it occasionally spun as the wind pushed every which way at the bow.  The view was dizzying, but nowhere near as dizzying as the sensation of being totally out of control.

Along the sidewalk he flew, drifting over the bushes, over the street, perilously close to the trees, before settling in a spiral that took him slowly downward, drifting back down to the concrete.

When his belly scraped on the ground and he came to a halt, he simply lay there, unable to make himself move.  Eventually his claws loosened from the ribbon, his breathing slowed, and his tail twitched.  He raised himself slowly up, taking in how normal everything around him once again was.

He knew he had to get back to the nest.  Dawn was coming, and soon humans would be too.  But he took the time before slipping away to carefully claw his name into the ribbon.  Next to all the other names.  He was no longer a contestant.  He was a brother.

    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

In the morning, the bow lay at its usual place, on the sidewalk not far from the lamppost, a bright red in the morning sunlight, slightly more raggedy around the edges than it had been the day before.

The maintenance man gazed down at it, then looked up at the top of the lamppost.  He wondered if he'd have to tie it up there with chain.

[julik0vatay]

New Beetlejuice teaser got me HYPED!!

Me: woohooo Lyds get his ass! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Also me: if they won't acknowledge their friendship I will cry

While I love cartoon's portrayal of Lydia and Beetlejuice characters there's less conflict between them, almost like they resolved most of their grievances with each other off-screen. But movieverse is a perfect setup for frenemies dynamic and I freaking love that trope! Let them bicker, let them fight, force them into reluctant alliance and I will be cheering and hollering the whole time >.> So much angst potential to explore on both sides of their conflict..

I don't even care if new movie is trashy, I'm just excited to see my faves again tbh

In fact I got so excited I ended up writing 1.5k words of them bickering <.<

And I am throwing it into the void to sandworms and closing the door

So… Hypothetical reunion talk, movieverse sequel speculations, ambiguous and complicated relationship, with nods to cartoon and scrapped script

Slight warning for strong language and alcohol mention, and half-hearted death threats i guess? But otherwise pretty chill

Comeback of the century

He is pacing and fuming, muttering to himself, when she enters the room. Air feels cold and full of static, making his hair stand up even higher than she remembers. She stops at the doorframe, taking in sight of him looking like angry puffed up cat. She hesitates to interrupt his monologue that was definitely not for her ears.

– … and it's not like I was expecting a warm welcome, but a grown-up kid? When did that happen?! I almost mistook her for Lydia herself!! With that black hair and attitude, I thought my eyes are playing tricks on me! Wouldn't be the first time…

He trails off, finally noticing company. He snarls in her direction but doesn't stop pacing and doesn't try to get closer.

Lydia clears her throat, searching for words that wouldn't set off an explosion. It's not like she has to advocate for herself living her life as she did. And yet…

– I was not expecting to actually see you in my life ever again. Dreading it? Yes, sure. At 20 waiting for it at every corner. At 30 it got old. At 40 this whole thing felt more like a fever dream. And now you're here.

– And now I'm here, babe! Deal with it! Why aren't you running yet?!

She looks away, uncomfortable. Why indeed.

– Playing cat and mouse with you? Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not a teen to run around anymore.

That out of all seems like wrong thing to say because next moment he's in front of her, irrirated grin and barely held back anger in his voice.

– So am I not worth your time and money, honey? Not even batting an eye for good-ol-me? I can turn this into a literal nightmare, would that be worthy of your attention?!

She looks at him, stubbornly not moving an inch, deciding how much to say. All options are wrong ones so she goes with honest, because how much she has to loose at this point? She lived her life well enough, and her kid is all grown-up and ready to leave the nest…

She takes a shaky breath bracing herself and looks danger right in the eyes.

– …You're my worst nightmare not because of what you did. I've been haunted by what-ifs my whole life… You're a mystery that slipped out of my hands. What if, what if… ...What if we could have been friends?

He visibly deflates under her searching gaze like someone dropped a bucket of cold water over his head. There's a conflicted look on his face for a moment but then it passes leaving behind resignation and defeat. (He fucked up. She was the one, the perfect chance for everything he wanted and HE FUCKED IT UP!!)

– Lyds…

He stills as if thinking it over before opening his arms. (He can work with fucked up. She's right here after all. Maybe its not too late to fix a rush job)

– How about a bit of death's embrace?

There's a faint surprise in her eyes. She considers the risk, her eyes tracing his hands, his posture, his face. He doesn't look threatening, just weary and rough. She reluctantly steps closer.

She's caged in his arms immediately and its the most familiar feeling in the world. Faint smell of decay and ozone, chill running down her spine, just like her dead-parents hugs. His embrace is firm and maybe a little bit desperate. She raises her hands and returns the hug, hiding face in his shoulder.

This is a tightest hug she had in a long while. This is the tightest hug he had in a lifetime deathtime.

A long moment passes before he breaks the silence:

– I could snap your pretty little neck right now and you wouldn't be able to stop me.

– Yes, you could, – she sniffs. – Would you? If you do make it quick.

She's shoved back, his eyes locking with hers. Then he raises hand and bonks their foreheads together never breaking eye contact.

– I was thinking about this. Don't tempt me, Lydia.

She lets out a snort.

– Of course you did. Beetle… – she's interrupted with finger over her lips.

– Shhh-sh-shh! Careful with the B-word, babe!

– I've been thinking about you for past 30 years.

That brings smile back on his face and he's back to looking manic instead of just dead.

– Way to stroke a guy's ego! But then why didn't you just call me??

– While dreading what you'd do to my family if I ever dared?? I bet you had some petty revenge planned for all of us, – She deadpans before muttering under her nose, – …Or if I called… and you didn't show up… And I don't know which is worse…

He's staring at her again. Then he's laughing quietly, then at full volume, his whole body shaking and electric like she just cracked funniest joke in his life death.

– ..Hahaha.. I honestly dunno what I expected, of course you of all people!.. Oh, I sure did plan a revenge, do you wanna hear the deets, Deetz?

She rolls her eyes, wary but amused.

– I'm trying to be vulnerable here but sure, hit me with what you've got.

– I was thinking a merry-go-round, you know, classic! Filled with worms. You know, URGH, sandworms!! Make you all taste your own medicine!!! That was awful by the way, you owe me for that one!

– Hmm. Sounds unpleasant. Not as exciting as I hoped from you.

– Oh now she's judging me, huh?? Try getting slimy feeling off your skin for a decade then we'll talk!

– I think I already went through that. You know, feeling haunted, with a mix of dread and regrets hanging over my shoulders. Does that mean we're even?

That makes him pause. Breaking eye contact his eyes search for something to focus on that isn't her face. The room is bare (but not exactly quiet, there's at least two more voices screaming at him that he's walking on eggshells, that he can't let her go, that he can't let her close, YOU KNOW HOW THAT WORKED OUT FOR YOU LAST TIME!!) except for ugly sofa that seen better days.

– Lemme think about it… Yeah, sure, alright, whatever, babes, water under the bridge! How about we start on a clean page instead? Just you and me, no interrupting family, some alcohol…

– Hold your horses, cowboy, I already feel insane just talking with you. I'm not adding alcohol to the mix.

– That's the best part, we're already mad! Your loss! Personally I wanna get wasted. And I'm not asking by the way but you're free to join me aaanytime!

With that he makes a 180 turn and beelines towards beaten sofa fishing a fancy-looking bottle out of thin air. Familiar looking bottle.

– Yeah, right. Wait, is this from my parents' stash?? Give it back!

He crashes on the sofa making it squeak under dead weight and flashes her a crooked smile full of teeth.

– Nooo way, doll, I think I deserve a vacation and a drink!

– Vacation?? Your last job was 30 years ago?!

– And I spend them in bureaucracy hell! Give me a break! You don't know what it's like!

– Actually I do.

That paints his face with genuine surprise like it's something he hasn't considered.

– Huh?

– Barbara and Adam.

– Hmmm? What did you dooo? :)

He leans forward, all smiles and all ears, like she's about to share latest gossip he missed out on.

– Found a loophole. Helped them move on.

– Ohohoo that's my girl! Do tell, do tell?

– There's not much to tell. They wanted a family. They raised me. And then I moved out. And then they moved on. But there was plenty of paperwork leading to that last part.

His smile falters but doesn't leave. Been there, seen that.

– Ah, boring happy ending for everyone but you, huh?

– Yeah, pretty much.

– …So do you want a drink or not?

– …Okay, fine.

That gets him excited all over again and he materializes a couple of glasses out of nowhere with fanfare like some sort of street magician. Both are filled with liquor (that was carefully saved for special occasions which happened never so now dead man is the one who gets to drink it all) and one is presented to her.

She accepts the drink but hesitates to try it. Looks back at her drinking partner, waiting.

– Right, we need a toast!

He rises his glass almost spilling its content over already sad looking sofa but catches it mid air last second. That makes Lydia laugh and she rises her own as well. Sound of her laughter makes him grin and he puffs out his chest for audience of one.

– For the living!

– And the dead.

– Cheers!