#sha’s treasure chest

[maximotts]

Thinking about Natasha picking Wanda up by her thighs, which of course makes Wanda squeak, and leaning her against a wall but they’re both smiling too wide to properly make out (and Wanda is nose scrunching)

don't look at me I'm weak for overly excitable subby Nat-

civil war era!WandaNat ⁘ 700 words ⁘ no cws needed for this besides Natasha using her strength to be a clingy cutiepie

"Stop it, wait-!"

Being lifted so suddenly had Wanda throwing her arms around her girlfriend, clumsily grasping at Natasha for balance. She barely had enough time to manage that small motion before her back hit the wall, the redhead quickly surging forward to smash her lips into Wanda's.

Nat was uncharacteristically eager, having sped through the halls upon hearing of Wanda's return from her most recent mission. It'd taken a week longer than planned, Wanda's persistent nature keeping her away until she tracked down everyone involved with HYDRA's newest branch.

She couldn't fault her for the extra work, would be a blatant hypocrite to do so, but it didn't change how much she'd missed her while she was away.... Natasha didn't think she'd ever been so impatient to see someone in her entire life. "You're back."

"Mhm..." After every mission there was a debrief; Steve was surely wondering what was keeping Wanda who typically arrived early just to avoid being late— if he asked Natasha would give an excuse faster than Wanda could open her mouth. Or maybe she'd tell the truth: her teammate cornered her with a barrage of kisses.

Natasha was more than strong enough to hold her girlfriend without effort, gripping her thighs almost desperately as she nipped at her lips, but Wanda's giggles were contagious and as they grew, Nat's own bubbled up in sync. "What's so funny, Maximoff?"

Wanda's face was painfully soft as Nat pulled back, grinning down at her captor with a kiss-swollen mouth, "I just didn't expect such a warm welcome, especially right here in the halls from Miss Romanoff herself."

"Yeah well, I'm full of surprises..." She kept her trapped, resting her chin on Wanda's chest and matching her bright smile. "We can't assign you anymore missions this long without me and you're on paid leave for the next three days, welfare issues."

"Welfare, huh?" Tired fingers carded through Nat's long hair, brushing through the thick waves before guiding her head to lay against her. "But I'd hate to miss out on something important-"

"But nothing. As your superior, I've already decided." Wanda did need the field experience, but she was a quick learner and as soon as she'd proven herself as a valuable asset to the team she'd be sent out every chance they got.

It was a purely selfish move to keep Wanda back, but when she closed her eyes and focused in on the soft thrum of the brunette's heartbeat under her ear, the back of her hand sweetly brushing over her blushed cheek, Natasha couldn't talk herself out of doing it. "Missed you, Wands...."

"Poor thing, did you miss me? I left you alone too long?" Nat nodded as the other woman kissed the crown of her head and Wanda melted, cooing over her girlfriend's honesty. Such vulnerability was a treasured thing, raw, unguarded, allowing Wanda to see all her softest spots.

Nat hummed, savoring the joy of her girlfriend's comforting words. She couldn't stop smiling which was rare, but Wanda wouldn't complain a bit, "My giddy girl... I'll always come home to you, no matter what."

"I wish you'd come to bed with me." The confession was mumbled and yet Wanda hear it all the same, her gentle chide in the form of a slight hair tug confirmed it.

Finally Wanda began to squirm, attempting to wiggle away to no avail. "It's the middle of the day! I do have to do some work to do before my forced vacation. At least to tell Steve how everything went."

"You're back safe, that's all that matters right now." Nat let Wanda off the wall, but didn't put her down, securing long legs about her waist before heading back down the hallway— towards their shared room, completely opposite to the elevators leading down to the offices. "Just tell him we needed a private check in first."

"Oh, I am not rewarding this kidnapping!" The struggle was futile, even without the shared laughter weakening Wanda's strength, and after a short message through FRIDAY from Nat warning their teammates not to disturb them during their 'recovery time' Wanda could only hope everyone forgave her for taking the rest of the day to tend to her tenacious girlfriend.

[annwrites]

i refuse to just let you slip through my fingers ••⊰⊹

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: as the group is stranded on the highway, you make use of the terrible situation to find supplies. until you collapse from overworking yourself and shane tends to you.

— tags: scavenging, sleeping, shane playing nurse to you, lori & rick make brief speaking cameos

— tw: dehydration, implied infant death, passing out

— word count: 1,574

— a/n: find my other posts concerning shane, which take place after/before this, here

While the rest of the group was more than displeased with being stuck on the highway…you were actually enjoying scavenging. All of you were surrounded by countless vehicles, full of numerous types of supplies: food, clothes, medicine, drinks, batteries, weapons, ammunition…the list went on and on. Not to mention fuel and car parts.

You understood the uncertainty and fear of being dead-in-the-water, right out in the open, which they all were feeling, but for the first time in weeks, you finally had something to take your mind off of things.

You’d taken a laundry basket with you as you went from car to car, looking for anything of use. And each time you’d filled it to the brim, you’d walked silently back to the arrangement of the group’s vehicles and dumped what you had found wordlessly on the ground, or on the inside of the RV, before walking away again.

Carol and Lori and Dale merely stared after you before beginning to sort through and divvy up whatever you had come across.

You heard, at one point, a male voice say from behind you, lowly—even if you still obviously heard them, and it wasn’t as if it was something rude which would hurt your feelings—“she’s like a little machine”. You think it was Rick.

T-Dog had tried to talk you into taking a bottle of water that you’d found, but you’d merely shrugged him off before walking away to see what else you could find. It was like a great treasure hunt.

When you open the back passenger-side door of a red sedan, peeking in, you immediately slam back into that same door, eyes filling with tears, hands coming up to cover your mouth.

You let out a strangled sob and Shane, who’d been looking over an arsenal Carl had found earlier, immediately jerks his head in your direction.

He drops the hatchet in his hand, the blade clattering against the ground, as he begins hastily heading in your direction. “Y/N!”

You don’t respond, you instead continue staring in wide-eyed horror at whatever you’d found inside that car.

“Darlin’, look at me, what is it?”

You shake your head, sobbing harder.

Finally, he reaches you, pulling your hands away from your mouth as he looks you over in a panic. “Were you bit? Babydoll, talk to me.”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “N-no,” you whimper in reply.

Finally, he turns around, looking into the car and he lets out a low curse when he sees: an empty carseat, covered in blood.

He stands again, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, turning you so that he’s facing the car instead of you. “Shh, shh, it’ll be alright.”

You sob into his chest. “That was so horrible,” you say, choking on each word.

He cradles the back of your head, cursing himself for letting you look through all those damned cars on your own.

But you’d seemed determined to do it—to clean out every one. And, in truth, he admired it you for it. For making so much use of yourself and your surroundings—the current situation you all felt stuck in. All while a couple of others wanted to bitch and complain instead, expecting other, more capable individuals to, once again, figure it all out for them.

After the CDC…seeing you so up and active was a welcome change. He’d hoped you were finally doing better, even slightly.

He fears this will become another mental setback for you.

Once you’ve calmed—having exhausted yourself from crying—he walks you back to the RV and you lie down in the back, quickly falling off to sleep.

The next day, when Shane tries checking in with you to see how you’re doing—how you’re feeling—you give him a mumbled “I’m fine” before wandering off. And you fear opening every door that you place your hand upon the handle of.

But you do it anyway, because you want to be alone.

It’s in the middle of the day when the sun is at its highest when it happens.

You’d just been about to climb up into a big-rig to check the cabin when you’d felt suddenly light-headed.

You shook your head, the disoriented feeling that’d come over you only getting worse. You try to swallow, but your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth. And you suddenly realize that you haven’t sweated nearly all day, despite the fact it’s nearly a hundred degrees out.

Your vision swims, the world spinning in slow motion, and you fall.

The last thing you hear before you close your eyes—your vision filling with black dots—is a deep southern voice yelling your name.

As you begin to come-to, everything feels—seems—dreamlike. You’re dizzy, your head lightly spinning. It feels like you’re lying down on something soft…a bed? And the atmosphere feels humid.

You feel something being pressed to your lips and you swallow as cool liquid wets your parched mouth and throat.

“How the hell could you do that to me? Haven’t…haven’t I already lost enough? What, you want me to lose you, too? You may not give a damn about your own well-being, but I do. I ain’t just going to let you kill yourself. You’ve tried it time and again, and I’ll keep saving you as long as I have to. Or until I can’t anymore.”

He was rambling, whoever he was. Names bounce around your head: Rick, Dale, Jim, Shane, Glen, Ed. But you feel so exhausted that you struggle to match this voice to any particular one.

The liquid fills your mouth again and a cool cloth is pressed to your forehead, another dabbed against your neck and the tops of your breasts, even your stomach. You realize that your legs are bare.

You swallow and the bottle is removed from your lips.

“Honey, I don’t…” He trails off for a moment. “I don’t know what to do. How to make you want to live. I get it: your feelin’ like you don’t have a reason to anymore. After everythin' you’ve been through…you’ve lost everythin' and everyone you’ve ever loved—cared about. But I refuse to just let you slip through my fingers. So, you go ahead and try. And I’ll be there every time to catch you.”

You feel the cloth being lifted, a pair of lips being pressed to your forehead, and then the cloth being lied back down.

He takes your hand in his for a moment and then you hear footsteps coming closer. And then there’s a female voice. “Rick needs you.”

A rough hand gently smooths some hair away from your face. “Little busy at the moment, Lori.”

A beat of silence, then, “I can sit with her.”

“I’m the one who’s lookin’ after her.” His voice sounds defensive now, protective. “If she slips away and I’m not here-”

“She won’t. It’s just dehydration. She’s still breathing. Her heart is still beating. She’ll be okay. I know she will.” Her tone is gentle, understanding.

Finally, with a slight squeeze, he releases your hand and you hear a chair squeak as he stands. “I’ll be back this evenin’.”

When you wake, it’s late, the RV dark, and a man slumped against the bed, his head resting against your stomach, the fingers of his left hand twined between yours as he sleeps.

The damp cloth against your forehead had grown warm you’d been asleep so long. You reach up with your free hand—your limb feeling heavy—and you remove it, dropping it to the floor.

You reach down, gently running your fingers through the man’s hair, and you know those curls can only belong to one individual: Shane.

He stirs for a moment, then returns to lightly snoring.

You lift your head, then lie it back down near-immediately, feeling a headache beginning to form from the simple action alone. You groan and the sound wakes him.

He slowly lifts his head, letting go of your fingers as he rubs the heel of his hand against one of his eyes.

“Y/N?” He asks quietly, his voice hopeful.

“Mm,” is all the reply you can manage.

He breathes a sigh of relief. “’Bout damn time, sweetheart. Been sittin’ here near all damn day waitin’ for you to open your eyes.”

You blink against the darkness, the only light being the moon shining in dimly from the window to your right side. Enough for you to finally make him out.

You lift your arm, which still feels rubbery and somewhat disconnected from your shoulder, and you gently cup the side of his face.

He smiles, laughing lightly. He rests both of his elbows against the side of the bed, taking your free hand in both of his, holding it up to his lips.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again. You understand me?”

You nod.

“How could you even-”

You cut him off, already knowing where he’s going with his train-of-thought. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself via dehydration. I just…I just didn’t think about it I was so preoccupied.” You lower your voice, whispering. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

He shakes his head. “Do it every damn day. Guess this one was no different.”

You smile.

“Did…” He sighs, looking down. “Did you hear anything, while you were asleep?” He looks up to you again, forehead creased.

You rub your thumb against his cheek. “Not if you didn’t want me to.”

[cleewii]

TEASE

pairing: gyutaro x fem! reader

rating: m for mature

content warning(s): suggestive content. clothes get taken off. nothing actually r18+ worthy. unfinished work. mentions of violence—people getting eaten. reader's not all there upstairs.

note: hi. i’m back. i was digging through my notes app and found a bunch of unfinished works so i figured i’d post them since i actually really like how they turned out even if they’re just rough drafts. expect a surplus of unfinished works of mine throughout the next couple of weeks, i’ve got a lot to go through. i’m trynna heal my relationship with posting my work online, and this is the first step.

i do not permit the reposting/uploading of my work on any platform. not even with credit.

he’s practically keening at the soft dig of your fingers on his hip bones, dipping into the curves and ridges of his body as though he weren’t some grotesque thing, staring up at him as though he could possibly deserve that awe struck look in your eyes.

he groans, the sound rumbling from his throat in a broken wave before he dives down and lets himself indulge in the sweet smell of your skin.

he won’t let you perch yourself on his lap, or hug him too tightly, or even look at him for too long, but it’s not because the thought of you seeing him makes him feel ill. no of course not. and it’s definitely not because he’d rather rip his own skin off and eat it then let you decide he is a disgusting monster unworthy of your time.

hes grown possessive, but isn’t that a given? aren’t we all possessive of our prizes, our jewels, our gold, and we hang them so daintly across ourselves like medals to proclaim something of worth to the world.

you are a shining treasure in his eyes—a name in the impossibly short list of people who matter to him—and he’d rather die then let you hate him.

so no, you’re not allowed to do this, touching him so softly, drinking him in like hes worth it, and no your not allowed to press those sweet kisses to his skin, or guide his hands to your hips and thighs, let him feel you up. he really should stop you, his bones are aching with the need to push your hands away, snarl and growl like the bruttish thing he is, because the worst thing, the absolute worst thing he could do is ruin you.

if he slips up, and let’s you get too close, he’ll do it, he just knows it.

you are flawless; he shouldn’t have the right to touch you, and yet the selfish part of him wants to take you, all you, leave as many marks as he can, stains and mares, just to prove that this was real. You were real, and you were here choosing to be with him, letting him lean over you and eat you up.

he’s seen you with other men. quietly hidden in the shadows, peering in through the walls all just to get a glimpse of you. the jealousy swells each time, threatening to take over whenever a hand so much as grazes across your skin. he wants to devour you, claim you, mind body and soul, and wear you like a battlescar he hopes never fades, but his hands can only twitch on either side of your head.

“Gyu…” You sigh, “you can touch me you know. it’s okay.”

he huffs, head snapping away, refusing to look at you any longer then he already has.

“don’t be stupid.” garbled and warp, his voice is like a broken radio, flawed. he wants to swallow the words and die with them choking him.

“this is torture,” you whine, tracing your hands up his chest, “all you do is look at me, but you won’t even touch me? ur a real tease ya know….”

it’s that pouty tilt in your voice that forces him to look again, and he’s met with the pretty sight of your eyes, glossy with tears he knows only mean trouble.

“don’t be a brat.” he glares, fingers digging into the fabric of the comforter beneath the two of you.

“i didn’t even drag you here or anything. you’re the one that got all weird and quiet, ‘n if you really wanted me gone that bad you wouldn’t have kept going out of your way to find me. don’t lie gyu, you want me as bad as i want you.”

i want you….

he shakes it away. absolutely not. he couldn’t—not ever!

“please,” you whisper, leaning up until your lips brush against the shell of his ear, “please gyutaro….”

“you’re a real sicko, ya know…” he hisses, as though your voice scalds him down to bare flesh. his fingers move to dig into the skin of his neck. scratching and scratching away as though he can rip out the sinful thoughts he’s been having ever since youd perched yourself here. They go against every instinct he’s ingrained into himself. every painful lesson beaten into his body.

“do you get some freaky kick outta me or something? you lookin’ down on me? i could kill you right now ya know, could slit your throat and eat you like m’supposed to.”

“then do it.” your gaze is unchanging in its chagrin. “if you want to so bad—if not eating me is agony—then go ahead n’do it. i dare you.” you squirm a bit under his body. “here, i’ll even make it easier.”

your fingers go to undo the strings of your yukata; the soft fabric going slack as you continue down the row that stretches along your middle. the sleeves fall past your shoulders, hanging down dangerously low, inches away from revealing the swell of your chest.

he watches with a dry mouth as you move to pull the rest of your garment off, and it’s the sliver of skin above your naval that sets something off.

your wrist gets caught between his hands, and you look up to meet his desperate eyes.

“what the hell do you think your doing?!” he practically shouts into your face.

“you said you wanted to eat me right? well i don’t recall meals ever being dressed up before they’re served, so i’m doing you a favor and getting rid of the stuff in your way.”

“well stop!”

“okay,” you roll your eyes, frustration leaking into your voice as impatience replaces your self control. “then if it isn’t the clothes, tell me why you won’t eat me? that’s what your kind do isn’t it? eat human beings. hunt them down, torture ‘n kill them. so tell me, gyutaro. why won’t you kill me?”

he doesn’t reply. practically refuses to.

“i know you’re not above murder. just admit that you like me. admit it n’ill leave you alone, i swear.”

annoying. like a fly, buzz buzz buzzing around him like his attention would somehow quell you.

Insolent.

Cocky.

It pissed him off to no end, the lack of fear, your inability to comprehend just how deadly he was.

you sat yourself down next to him like he was nothing more then a boy you knew. as if he couldn’t tear you apart, rip flesh from bone like it was second nature, as simple as it was to breathe.

If only you would make this easier. if only you didn’t tease.

[puzzles-are-fun]

Dirk's treasure

I just finished replaying SHA and during the epilogue, Nancy says that the Rawleys offered to split the treasure with Dave if it turns out they can keep it. If Dave is Ellie Humber's great nephew, technically he is related to Frances Humber (distantly) and if Dirk wanted the treasure to belong to Frances, and everyone from back then is dead, Dave should get the treasure. I wish the letter mentioned what Sherriff Hernandez decided after he looked into it.

Does anybody else have thoughts on this?

Also, couldn't Nancy have figured out some way to hide the keys to the room with the treasure so that only the right people could open it and, knowing the culprit was on her trail, take the gold that was spelling out V on the floor and give it to the culprit to distract them while she went to get help to have the culprit arrested and then come back for the treasure with the police? That was gold too! Not as much as in the chest on the table, but not nothing! Couldn't she have thought to move the branch she lassoed to get up into the cave dwellings so that nobody else could get up there and stop her from solving the case? She knew, from getting knocked out in Dry Creek, that the culprit was on to her and that the people working with the culprit could have been following her too, why was she so reckless about the branch?!?

One more thing: I really hope she was wearing Aunt Bet's riding gloves while carrying/using those super rusty keys! Tetanus anyone?

[inquisimer]

happy friday Mer!! for dadwc I'm thinking "i’ve got myself, i’ve got my freedom, but i’m searching for my home // cause i am hurting but not helpless, full of strength and scars" for Cullen/Neria :D

HAPPY FRIDAY JAY I come bearing some fluffy fluff for Neria and Cullen🥺🥺

wc: 1186

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

If you measured home by how long she’d spent in any given place, Kinloch Hold would take the title. Her earliest memories were the dusty corners of the library, the faded velveteen drapes in the dormitories, the lingering scent of plain laundry soap the Tranquil used to wash the robes. She spent her formative years learning every inch of that tower, from supply runs to the basement to illicit trysts atop the roof. That was where she made her first friends and mistakes, where she learned that the world could be cruel and cold—but it could also be kind.

But the Circle was never home.

Neither was Kirkwall, though it was stability after a long while on the run. Anders’ clinic, the cramped room in Lowtown, even the Hanged Man—each remarkable in that she could come and go and they would still be there whenever she returned. She’d never had that consistency, not coupled with the freedom she so treasured at least, and it was novel and exhilarating and intimidating all at once.

And then, with a few bursts of anger and words said in heat, it was gone.

For a time, home was what it had been right after her escape: a dry place to sleep, fresh running water, a family who slipped her apples and kept their lips sealed. But it didn’t last as long as it had the first time—very quickly home became reddish sails and tanned faces lined with ink and learning to tread the forest with as much care as she wanted in return.

Until that, too, was stolen away by life, by circumstance, by the twisted weaving of the Maker, the Creators, or whoever pulled the strings of fate from on high.

She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse, the hushed whispers and awestruck stares as opposed to the suspicious oversight of Templars. Which was a better reaction to something she wasn’t: reverence or fear?

She found both in Haven and she wondered, tracing the scar on her forearm between sips of watered-down ale, if this would somehow be home. Would the emotional rush of the apocalypse forge these tentative friendships and unforseen circumstances into something more?

As always, it was some of both. For Haven proper was buried under an avalanche of snow and months of tragedy and victory, sacrifice and savor had passed before she found a proper answer.

She headed north out of Skyhold, slipping over the battlements with a tether of mana that saw her safely to the snow-covered earth. The fortress wasn’t half as isolated as Solas had led them to believe—though well fortified, there were remnants of settlements lost to time and the Frostbacks within sight of even the shortest towers. The path she followed now was discreet, but one her feet knew well, leading to a cabin the scouts had found on one of their first trips around Skyhold’s exterior.

Smoke already puffed from the chimney when the structure came within sight and that alone made warmth blossom through Neria’s chest. She hugged her basket close and pulled the fluttering edges of her cloak tight around her neck until she entered the warmth of the tiny cabin.

It had been a dilapidated place when the scouts first showed it to her, but like a sculptor with their clay, she saw the potential. Whenever she could steal a moment from Leliana’s trickery or Josephine’s scheming, she would sneak away, calling the Fade to her fingers and coaxing the wood back to life, the strength back to the foundation. Eventually, she lured Cullen out here as well, some lie about strategy and defense of their home base quick to her tongue.

He’d taken to the retreat with surprisingly little convincing; perhaps it reminded him of Honnleath, or perhaps it was simply different enough from his office, far enough removed from the corpses of Haven and shadows of Orlais that he could shed the skin of the Commander and relax.

For instance, when she ducked through the cabin door, she found him with his armor off, kneeling in front of the fire, stirring a pot that bubbled with some manner of thick stew. His sleeves were cuffed up to his elbows and his eyes closed, the slightest smile betraying his pleasure at the aroma wafting up to greet him.

Neria slipped in as silently as she could manage—which was quite silently, especially when the target was someone used to enemies approaching in plate armor and heavy shields. She deposited the basket of bread on the table and pushed her hood back from her head, padding over to slide her arms around Cullen’s neck and rest her chin atop his head. He started, just slightly, but her touch was as familiar to her as the weight of his sword against his hip and he immediately relaxed into her embrace.

“On dhea,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his curls. The were loose and soft, just how she loved to see them. Perhaps she would have a word with the Ambassador—it shouldn’t be too much of a stretch to suggest that importing so much hair gel was an unnecessary burden on their budget.

“Hi,” he replied, voice low and gravelly from an odd combination of overuse and disuse. He clears his throat and tips his head back to press an inverted kiss to her lips. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Oh?” A teasing smile came to her lips, all too easy, as she shed the mantle of Inquisitor and embraced the lightness of this sanctuary. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks in an instant and he abandoned the spoon in the pot to clasp at the back of his neck. He grinned sheepishly.

“Of course not, I—“

She silenced his defenses with another kiss, more insistent and firm, enough that he turned to face her properly and slid his arms around her waist to draw her close. Lost in the sensation, the smell of oakmoss and armor polish, the fire his hands stroked across her back, the comforting crackle of the fire in the hearth, she hardly noticed when he dipped her down and pulled her snugly into the cradle of his arms.

They broke apart with a gasp, each flushed more than the heat of the fire would do alone. Neria threaded her fingers through his hair; Cullen traced the shell of her ear, thumbs following the path of teal lines around her eyes and across her cheeks.

Home was not a place, she thought. It was not a Circle tower, or a rundown flat in the worst city of the Marches. It was not a hollow at the base of a tree or a bountiful bush of berries that would feed her for another night; it was not the landships of the Dalish or the worship of so much ignorance.

Home was here and now—the warmth in her heart and the safety and care and love that seeped through her like a sip of fine wine.

Home was him and finally, she was home.

[cryptocozy]

The ABCs of Crypto Mining A Beginner's Guide to Digital Gold Digging

In the vast world of cryptocurrencies, there's a term that often pops up – crypto mining. It might sound like a complex, high-tech endeavor, but fear not! Let's break it down into simple, everyday language, so you can grasp the basics of this digital gold rush.

What is Crypto Mining?

Picture this: instead of miners with pickaxes in a cave, we have computers solving complex mathematical puzzles in the digital realm. Crypto mining is the process by which new units of cryptocurrency, like Bitcoin, are created and transactions are verified and added to the blockchain – the digital ledger that keeps track of all crypto transactions.

Click Here To Know About How to Start a Cryptocurrency Trading Business!

The Digital Gold Rush

1. Mining for New Coins:

   Imagine you're a miner, and your goal is to discover a treasure chest full of new digital coins. In the crypto world, this is known as "proof-of-work." Miners compete to solve complex mathematical problems, and the first one to solve it gets the reward – a new batch of freshly minted coins.

2. Securing the Network:

   Crypto mining is not just about creating new coins; it also plays a crucial role in securing the entire network. Miners validate transactions by solving puzzles, ensuring that the information added to the blockchain is legitimate and secure.

Getting Started with Crypto Mining

1. Choosing Your Cryptocurrency:

   Different cryptocurrencies use different algorithms for mining. Bitcoin, for example, uses SHA-256, while Ethereum uses Ethash. Choose the cryptocurrency you want to mine based on your preferences and the equipment you have.

2. Setting Up Your Mining Rig:

   A mining rig is a specialized computer system designed for mining. You can either build one yourself or purchase a pre-built rig. Make sure it has a powerful graphics processing unit (GPU) or application-specific integrated circuit (ASIC) to handle the mining process efficiently.

3. Joining a Mining Pool:

   Mining on your own can be like searching for a needle in a haystack. That's where mining pools come in. These are groups of miners who combine their computational power to increase their chances of solving puzzles and earning rewards together.

The Rewards of Crypto Mining

1. Earning Cryptocurrency:

   Successfully mining a block comes with a reward. For Bitcoin, it's currently 6.25 bitcoins per block. This reward serves as an incentive for miners to dedicate their computing power to the network.

2. Transaction Fees:

   In addition to the block reward, miners may also earn transaction fees. Users can choose to include a transaction fee when sending cryptocurrency, and miners prioritize transactions with higher fees.

Challenges and Considerations

1. Energy Consumption:

   One of the significant concerns with crypto mining is its energy consumption. The process of solving complex mathematical problems requires substantial computational power, which translates to a considerable amount of electricity.

2. Hardware Costs:

   Building or buying a mining rig can be an upfront investment. Additionally, staying competitive in the mining space may require upgrading your hardware over time.

The Future of Crypto Mining

1. Transition to Proof-of-Stake:

   Some cryptocurrencies are exploring or have already transitioned to a consensus mechanism called "proof-of-stake," which doesn't require the same intense computational power as proof-of-work. This shift aims to address environmental concerns associated with energy-intensive mining.

2. Innovation in Mining Technology:

   As the crypto space evolves, so does mining technology. There are ongoing efforts to develop more energy-efficient mining hardware and explore alternative consensus mechanisms.

Closing Thoughts

Crypto mining might seem like a complex process, but at its core, it's a digital adventure where computers work to secure and validate transactions in the cryptocurrency realm. Whether you're intrigued by the potential rewards or the technical intricacies, understanding the basics of crypto mining is the first step toward navigating this digital gold rush. So, grab your virtual pickaxe and join the exciting world of crypto mining – who knows what digital treasures you might uncover!

[hoesamo]

Went to the “Altar of the Cult.” [Part 1]

This post is getting longer than I thought as I progress through the game, so I’m gonna do this in Parts.

Yuji Asks how far they are, and Gordon says they’re roughly halfway there, much to Fafnir’s exasperation.

Yuji remarks how Gordon is able to ride a horse pretty well despite his condition. Gordon basically says he’s gotten pretty good at getting around after 10 years of living with his curse. They’ve already quite a bit of progress, so he also wants to set up camp right now for the night. Yuji is thankful, since his inexperience with riding horses is leaving him with a sore butt. When he shares the plan to camp with Fafnir, though, he’s so exhausted that he’s almost falling off his own horse. Poor guy’s not used to being in a human body full-time at all lmao 😂.

Gordon reminds the pouting Fafnir that he can’t fly now, though, and that it’d take even longer if he walked instead. Though it may hurt his butt, he asks him to “hold on a little longer, Your Highness”. Fafnir catches on to Gordon’s potential teasing, although he denies it all the same. He threatens to burn him, but Gordie just redirects his attention to water. Fafnir immediately starts to drink the water,only to upset his stomach. He is frightful of the true nature of his newly acquired human body and it’s frailty. Yuji is concerned that Gordon’s teasing might be over the line but Gordon shrugs it off. Yuji asks if he’s not afraid of dying. A lighthearted scene altogether.

- SCENE CHANGE-

Yuji believes they have finally reached the entrance to the altar. Gordon is tense as he states that it’s been ten years since he was last here. Fafnir’s pretty excited (one step closer to getting his draconic power back), and Yuji’s desire to break the curse grows. However, Gordon warns the two not to rush in, even pulling Fafnir back before he can set out inside (much to Fafnir’s own annoyance and whining). When Yuji asks what’s up, Gordon says:

He tells Yuji to throw a stone at the entrance. When he does, it activates a trap, the sudden barrage of blades and pitfall scaring him. Gordon warns both of them that this isn’t just a dungeon where monsters live, but one that is made by people for sole purpose of capturing invaders. He explains that the ancient Royal Family made this place to store and protect their treasures from potential invaders.

At the mention of treasure, Fafnir’s interest is now piqued. Gordon keeps telling Yuji of the various traps within the dungeon, and how vital it is for him to not act on his own accord recklessly and to not touch anything strange. Yuji asks how they’ll be able to get inside.

Gordon says that he was the only adventurer to come back alive, and starts tying his whip to a tree (and something else?). Fafnir states that weak people come up with cunning solutions, and Gordon reminds Fafnir that his own weak body will need to follow his advice too if he wants to survive.

-SCENE CHANGE-

They’ve now entered the dungeon. Gordon is capably triggering the traps left and right. Yuji is very impressed with Gordon’s skill. Even Fafnir’s pretty impressed. After Gordon reports that they’ve passed the first layer of traps, Yuji notices a breeze coming through a gap in the wall. Gordon says it’s a hidden room, where they find a treasure chest containing a Magic Potion.

-SCENE CHANGE-

Afterwards, they reach a spot in the dungeon where they spot some demonic skeletons, Gordon advises Yuji to carefully spy on them from the shadows so that they won’t get caught. Yuji is scared of them and their numbers, but Gordon tells him there’s no other way to get further in the dungeon. He also reminds him that he can’t fight due to his legs being bad, so he’s gonna leave it to him and Fafnir. He reminds them of the enemies’ ability to use curses, which will lower attack power. Fafnir remarks that it seems an opportunity has appeared for him to show off his draconic power, but Yuji is trying to get him back into hiding in the shadows so that they can remain unseen. He’s pretty confident he can show the difference in power between humans and dragons. Unfortunately, their cover is blown as Fafnir heads into the fray and casts a spell and immediately takes down dozens of the demons. This surprises both Yuji and Gordon. Even when he gets injured by more enemies, his wound heals automatically thanks to his very blood being able to heal wounds quickly and repel curses. Fafnir even goes on to say that even in his more vulnerable human form— even without his powerful dragon form— he should never die. He will still be immortal thanks to his “Dragon’s Blood”.

He goes on to say that these enemies are products of their own stupidity, but at least they can die proud for managing to get even a scrape on him. Then he wipes them out. Yuji is in awe of such power, and even Gordon can’t help but recognize him as The Fafnir. Fafnir just moves on pretty quickly to being excited to finally getting all the treasures stored in the back, urging his ‘servants’ to come along. Yuji asks him if he’s switched reasons for coming here. Fafnir responds with something like “I know, I know. And while I’m at it, I’ll break the curse of your acquaintances.”

Gordon says to not get carried away and to listen to him, but Fafnir’s more interested in having a smart phone as a gratuity for killing all the enemies. Gordon’s now annoyed, shouting a stern reminder to Fafnir to not touch the wall (called him an idiot, too XD). Because he didn’t listen, the dragon has now fallen to the bottom of a large pit in the ground. Understandably, Gordon is pissed off.

(DeepL says he calls him a “stupid son of a bitch” lmfao)

When Yuji asks him what to do, he tells Yuji to slowly (carefully) come to him. It’d be bad for him to fall into the trap, too. After he complies, he reassures the teen that the trap couldn’t have killed Fafnir. Not only does Fafnir’s blood protect him immensely, but the traps in this part of the dungeon aren’t really meant to be truly lethal. Yuji wonders if this means whoever made these traps is actually a kind person, to which he replies, “… No, it’s the exact opposite.”

[dinoshaur]

SHA, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE !! 💗💗💗 we’ll both be 22 for a few months before i turn 23~ i hope you’re still able to find bits of joy and life and love even through this pandemic !! 💓 here’s your reminder that we’re only a quarter through this lifetime and that there’ll still be a lot ahead for you 😌💗

kesya 🥺🥺 stay 22 a bit longer with meee

thank you bub!!! i honestly wasn’t really feeling 22 cause of the lockdown but i woke up today to my friends sending me pastries and bubble tea 🥰 it really lifted my spirits (esp since i have two 2hr tutorials later tonight ugh)

i’m going to wish you a SUPER EARLY BIRTHDAY so now you can tell everyone that i was first ehehe 23 isn’t so scary i think now that i’ve hit 22. i hope your birthday is even better and that you have the best day 🥺💗

[perpetuallylocked]

Tag Yourself: Nancy Drew Game Aesthetics Edition

SCK: opening a new book for the first time, the nostalgia of VHS tapes, coca cola in a glass, remembering your locker combo, letterman jackets, watching true crime documentaries, empty high school hallways, 1950s diners, cramming before an exam

STFD: boxes of chocolates, tape recorders, the click-clack of typewriter keys, catching a taxi, shadows on the wall, stained coffee cups, sitting down to rewatch a tv show, perfume bottles, 1990s fashions

MHM: the sight of dust mixing with light, sightreading old sheet music, crystal chandeliers, old floral teacups, crystal balls, old rotary phones, grand staircases, intricate wooden floors, never-ending house projects

TRT: the glitter of diamonds, worn chessboards, snow-covered gardens, ink-covered hands, butterfly collections, cold tile floors, dull suits of armor, dusty history tomes, footsteps muffled by carpets

FIN: plush red velvet, the scent of popcorn, drawing art deco designs in the margins, worn carpets, old playing cards, the feeling there is still magic everywhere, meeting a childhood idol, movie posters on the wall, catching up with a childhood friend

SSH: jade carvings, steep stone steps, chocolate bars, being the only person in a museum gallery, clean lab coats, amazing sights through a microscope, visiting the hospital, remembering facts you've only heard once, checking the mail for your package

DOG: log cabins, the flapping of bird wings, the distant howling of dogs, the odd sensation when you can see the moon during the day, the scent of pine trees, old glass bottles, strolls along the lake shore, admiring 1920s fashion, long walks in the woods

CAR: antique roller coasters, old postcards, the golden light at dusk, loud band organ music, sounds of a carnival at night, ice cream sundaes for dessert, the delight of riding the carousel for the first time, paint-stained clothes, winning a prize from a carnival game

DDI: a steaming mug of tea on a foggy day, sea caves, light from a lighthouse piercing the fog, messages in bottles, approaching deep water, the sound of seagulls, vintage blue bicycles, spotting a whale on the horizon, crumb-topped blueberry muffins

SHA: worn plaid shirts, sunsets on the horizon, the clip-clopping of hooves, antique blanket chests, forbidden romance, mason jars of flowers, brown and blue eggs, playing piano by ear, faded rugs

CUR: leather-bound books, small potted succulents, curving staircases, old portraits, family secrets, four-poster beds, hearing strange sounds at night, food cravings, spending all day on your laptop

CLK: the ticking of an old clock, pearl and cameo jewelry, the scent of a pie baking, the whir of a sewing machine, reading in a window seat, flouncy dresses, bridges over creeks, driving around a small town, reading Shakespeare for your own enjoyment

TRN: ballet slippers, snow mixed with smoke, faded pastel embroidery, the far-off sound of train whistles, old parchment and wax seals, unwrapping a piece of salt water taffy, quirky local museums, organizing your collections and belongings, light shining through tiffany lamps

DAN: light streaming through stained glass windows, bold red lipstick, freshly baked cookies, tales from your grandparents' youth, long-lost love, twirling in a tulle skirt, the overwhelming desire to visit paris, planning out your outfit for the next day, park benches

CRE: wind in the palm trees, footprints in the sand, rustling in the jungle, small seashells, rope bridges, fruity shave ice, waves tickling your toes, the tangy taste of pineapple, watching surfers from the beach

ICE: frozen lakes, sitting by a crackling fire, snow-covered piles of logs, worn leather ice skates, paw prints, staying in bed after you've woken up, seeing your breath in the cold air, unexpected snowball fights, leather-bound journals

CRY: shadows emphasized by candlelight, dirt-caked fingernails, exploring a cemetery at night, wrought iron fences, the smell after it rains, shelves lined with tchotchkes, going back for second helpings at dinner, moonlight streaming through the window, a grandfather clock at the end of the hall

VEN: gelato cones, orange and brown buildings, soft italian songs, gold lockets, buying flowers for yourself, cobblestone courtyards, leaning over the balcony rail, the overwhelming desire to reinvent yourself, dancing like no one is watching

HAU: ocean waves hitting cliffs, hanging herb bundles, old stone fortresses, white lace and promises, wilting flower bouquets, whistling to keep yourself company, distant celtic music, simple diamond rings, sitting in a peaceful garden

RAN: old gold coins, wading in the cold ocean, a slow-moving hourglass, seeing where the sky meets the sea, old pirate legends, sand between your toes, looking down through clear water, buying yourself new clothes for vacation, eating fruit salad for breakfast

WAC: exploring a college campus, old trophies, distant cello music, milk and cookies, cardigan sweaters, texting your friends, bare tree branches, anthologies of stories, school supply shopping

TOT: wind rustling through wheat fields, creaking wooden staircases, white curtains on the window, golden hay bales, old fences lining the road, watching a storm from the porch, buying a new camera, hanging out in your favorite professor's office, sitting on a tire swing

SAW: the faint scent of cherry blossoms, origami cranes, taking a bath, hearing a new language for the first time, shards of glass, seeing your reflection in the water, buying a new stuffed animal, trying a new food on vacation, listening to your grandmother's stories

CAP: rereading favorite fairy tales, blood-red garnets, red hair in braids, mist in the forest, local legends, playing board games on rainy days, remembering your make-believe games of childhood, puffy-sleeved blouses, watching glassblowers make magic

ASH: blue roadsters, rapidly melting ice cream cones, white picket fences, pastel shop awnings, hand-lettered signs in front of shops, the act of simply being with your friends, revisiting your childhood bedroom, spending all day in an antique shop, visiting your friend's house for the first time

TMB: wind-blown sand, straw sun hats, the warmth of the afternoon, chipped statues, well-used research books, having an egypt phase as a kid, planning your next adventure, drinking cold water on a hot day, pushing your hair out of your face

DED: pencil-covered hands, well-oiled gears, the crackling of electricity, eating your favorite flavor of gummy bears, group projects, keeping to yourself at work, unironically wearing ugly sweaters, publishing your research, organizing your messy desk

GTH: peeling paint on a once-grand house, angel statues, sheet-covered furniture, porch swings, lit matches, lace masquerade masks, grand ball gowns, drinking a hot cup of tea and lemon, looking for treasures in the basement

SPY: old leather suitcases, distant memories, the lingering touch of your true love, piano keys, adrenaline rushes, popped trench coat collars, hugging your mom after not seeing her for ages, looking out the window on a train ride, hearing movie soundtracks in your head

MED: the view from the top of a mountain, the rushing sound of waterfalls, freshly dyed hair, shooting stars, wandering off the trail, vintage comic books, philosophical thoughts, binge-watching reality tv, feeling the sense of deja vu

LIE: hands coated with clay and paint, laurel wreaths, pomegranate juice, books of Greek myths, gold sandals, memorizing a monologue, flowing white gowns, spending all day in a museum gallery, exploring ancient ruins

SEA: the twinkling sound of old music boxes, a night shining with stars, cozy knit sweaters, curling up with your dog, model ships, old barrels, learning your town's history, watching gently falling snow, the beauty of the aurora borealis

MID: the dark colors of herbs, edison bulbs, copper kettles, slowly changing leaves, road trips with friends, carving a jack-o'-lantern, exploring cemeteries at night, small shops surrounding a courtyard, thinking you saw a ghost out of the corner of your eye

[nozomijoestar]

I used to have this story exclusively on my Ao3 but since I deleted that last December its taken me months to feel any rhythm of comfort uploading writing online again be it original or not; so I’m finally planning to reupload stuff I saved that isn’t already tagged here

Originally written under ‘Start and Start Again’ for She-Ra Fluff Bang 2020 and my first standalone novella length thing at 10k

-

The journey of Catra’s ever changing life begins with one step forward

It started as a bump on her stomach. A mild thing no bigger than her fist. Yet it stuck out the way the crown piece of a treasure hoard shines. Catra stumbled backwards; gripped the sink to keep her balance. She stared deeper into the full length mirror. The bump remained, had it gotten taller in this light? It was smooth to the touch or rather as smooth as fur could be. The softness of her was something to take great pride in. Anyone who assumed her messy were proven dead wrong. Now wasn't the time for petty thinking however.  

Catra sank to the floor still clutching her stomach. She felt it join as part of her, this new thing, and if she strained her ears she just knew it had a heartbeat. A child. Adora's- no their child. She has to swallow to not shout 'Holy Shit!!!' at the top of her lungs. Instead it makes her bite her lip until blood trickles. Catra winces then recovers; she stands and runs water to splash on her face. The woman staring back in the vanity mirror is smiling under the wet bangs sticking to her forehead; smiling like an idiot now disheveled. She pivots and bolts out the bathroom yelling.

"Hey Adora! Adora come over here!"

"Catra? What's going on this early?"

She dashed around the sofa through the living room to find Adora rubbing her eyes and slinking out of bed. She heard her mumble already about waking ahead of schedule; it made her try not to roll her eyes. Of course she'd fixate on that right out of sleep. Before she let her get in another word Catra stopped in front of her. She grabbed Adora's hand and pressed it to her stomach. A lopsided grin was all she could muster for a reply. It took a few seconds, then Adora's eyes went wide. She saw her stare at the bump with such reverence Catra felt tears fall.

"You're...we're..."

"I know."

Adora pulled her down into a hug so tight Catra had to tap her to ease it.

"I'm gonna be a parent...Catra you're gonna be a parent! It's, it's real. It's actually happening."

"Told ya it'd work out."

Then Adora sucked in a huge breath and went rigid gawking at the ground.

"Oh my god I'm gonna be someone's mom. I dunno the first thing about babies! Catra who do we even ask-"

"Um, all of Bright Moon and our friends? They already know we're trying did'ja think they'd ditch us now?"

"No! No of course not. It's just this is actually happening. What if I mess it up already and something goes wrong o-or they come and don't like me- can babies think their mom is lame before they're born? What if-"

"Adora. Do you still want a baby?"

"Yes. More than anything. Sorry I know I'm being-"

"Hey. That's all you need; someone like you is gonna do fine. So stop or you'll give yourself a heart attack before the kid's even here."

Catra sat beside her and rubbed circles on her back. A sigh filled the room when Adora leaned her head on Catra's shoulder. She planted a kiss in her hair and wrapped an arm around her.

"...I wouldn't have my kid with someone I knew'd be shit at it. Or to me. You're you Adora, I didn't choose anyone else."

"I know I know. We're nothing like Sha-"

For an instant something stops Adora as if she's been gagged. Her eyes go wide again haunted by the sinister. She tries speaking only to make a strangled sound. They exchanged a look of understanding no one should have. A look of indescribable pain. Shared pain. Adora strains to start a third time when Catra finishes it.

"Nothing like Shadow Weaver. And we never will be. You can kill me if I do."

"I wouldn't go that far but...me too."

Wordlessly she let Adora slide against her and rest on her chest. Catra purred as she traced her claws along Adora's arm. Her tail coiled around Adora's waist when she bent to kiss her cheek. A hum is all she gets in reply; its more than enough.

"We're better people now, aren't we?" She asks.

"We'll always be better if we try. You're right I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Catra?"

She saw the eyes staring up fill with worry like it held the same value as water. Like it was something born in Adora's hands and for all their years since childhood it may well have been. Like it paired perfect with the tension stiffening her face. A face that deserved only to finally be soft forever. Catra whispered already knowing she wouldn't cure anything. It was too late of course; shame was her birthright too.

"I'm happy. I'm so happy right now I can't put it into words even for you. But that doesn't change what I've done. Who I was before this, before this version of us...back when we woke up everyday wondering if that'd be the last time."

"Catra no."

"I hurt you, Adora. I keep saying it because it's never going away ok? I hurt you, I hurt Sparkles and Arrow-Boy, Scorpia...Entrapta. The entire damn planet can bite me in the ass someday and I'd understand. The Horde destroyed. This being the happiest time of my life doesn't erase that."

"Catra-"

"What if I get frustrated and relapse? What if it's not even something I do it runs in families and I'm ruining them right now by being their mother because being a failure is just destiny?!"

"Enough."

The hands holding her head were firm as Adora moved to tangle them in her hair. She lowered her fully onto her lap; let herself purr with a breath in. Her eyes closed, tears fell. Adora's thumb wiped them away. It was so gentle Catra couldn't help a sob. She let everything pour out, let herself be wracked by hiccups; not one received judgement. She sat raw, bare in a place where dignity came innate not earned and knew herself still the invader. The conqueror. An aide to desolation.

The knotted feeling in her throat overpowered the new life under Adora's touch. Her stomach tingled at the caress; did their child want to scold her too?

In the end Adora's voice, that better half, guided her to reason.

"You're allowed to feel bad, remember? Like Perfuma said? I cant stop you no matter how much it hurts to hear. You're allowed to have bad days; but you're not allowed to give up. And you're not allowed to stop improving."

She let herself be pushed gently onto their bed; settled into the wholeness of their bodies resting together like they were made for nothing else. Adora is warm, her chest is safe, and her blonde hair falls across Catra better than a curtain. She purrs and purrs in her arms unable to stop, to entertain the thought for stopping. Hands wander the length of her then settle on her hips. Adora's thumb circles her fur until she wraps her tail along that forearm. They kiss and by god Catra will never get over the bliss it brings.  How do you get over a free fall?

In silence she lets herself be tucked further against her; their legs entangle just as a feeling indescribable bursts from deep within. Something Catra knows she's understood for as long as she could remember that refuses to emerge in glimpses anymore. Only Adora can hope to know it in equal measure. She wants to wish that more than she's ever wanted at all. She swallows before meeting Adora's eyes. Adora has the briefest second for confusion when Catra's impulse strikes in her softest voice.

"It's like you know me better than I know myself."

Adora's face went wide then slid into the chuckle they know means contentment.

"Because you let me in."

And let her in she continued to do. For every day she grew bigger not a feasible moment did she spend alone. If she hungered the kitchen stocks ran dry, when she rested Bright Moon went still. Whenever she yowled or groaned there came Adora to massage her, Bow to shoo away prying eyes, Glimmer to order so many extra pillows for their room she thought there'd finally be something to suffocate her worse than herself.

She sat at the center of the castle gardens in the sun. Seven months had turned the seasons hot into mild into cold that'd kept her tucked in Adora's embrace, now turned again another leaf into Spring. Her back ached under a pressure fanning up her spine and centered on her swollen belly. Catra stifled a groan. Adora sat slumped over the table sound asleep opposite her. The gentle snores rumbling from her chest punctuated the bird calls like a bad note cutting a song. Catra laughed as soft as possible. Maybe their kid would pick it up from the get-go.

The ice in her drink clinked as she sipped. That's when she heard another step through the grass. She glanced at a hedge over her glass brim.

"Quit screwing around before someone else sees you."

"Ohhh Kitten you still don't know the meaning of fun do you?"

"Shhh. Adora's asleep. Thought you'd be quieter too. Must be sooo hard going soft."

A guard emerged from the shadows in white armor. The crescent standard of Bright Moon on the chest liquified then twisted into darkness. It bent and spread until a new figure emerged. Double Trouble shook out the unshaven half of their blond undercut. They stretched into a saunter across the paving stones.

Their high heels made that grating 'click clack' noise she'd once waited for in the Fright Zone. On reflex she glanced at Adora; she was still asleep, now drooling. The nasal pitch Double Trouble called a voice went lower even as their words dripped sass. Catra wished it'd never change, if you dragged the thought out of her.

"I'm surprised you've kept that tongue of yours looking like that. What a nasty little bite from an expecting mother."

"Oh really? What a tired act from a spy about to be washed out in peacetime. Hey don't sit there!"

"No darling you made the bed now lie in it for that one. This table is more than enough for a party."

They smirked at each other and knew there was nothing to forgive. Double Trouble gave Adora a once over look; their eyes lingered on Catra's stomach. They crossed their legs and arms with that flair Catra secretly imitated in the mirror. She went back to drinking.

"Seems like you two tied the knot finally. So sorry I had to miss that event, the stage called me. Color me not shocked to have seen this coming a mile away."

"...What's that mean?"

"It means darling there are countless women throughout the universe who'd kill for your position. Wife of She-Ra and now adding to this little litter you two are starting? Honey you're the most envied yet admired woman anywhere."

"Yeah well I'll believe it when I see it. That many people couldn't like me unless there was something to take."

"Dear, would you look at me?"

She did and found them filing their nails. Typical. They continued.

"Are we friends?"

A pause. Catra twiddled her thumbs. They looked her dead in the eyes now.

"Yeah."

"And her over there, what is she to you?"

"I...Adora is part of my everything."

"Why?"

"What'd you mean why?"

She stopped herself and startled; her eyes widened toward something distant, somewhere within. There from her memory stood Adora, begging her to turn rebel, Adora catching her before a drop to certain death, Adora laughing as they held hands like children again through dark tunnels. Adora overturning an empire millions strong to save her on nothing more than her heart. Adora crying always crying but never stopping.

Foolish and lovely Adora who promised her in infinite ways she was worth it.

Double Trouble grinned into a sound of contentment. They put their filer away and stared expectantly but not without care.

"I take it you know. Now tell me this and be honest- what about Glimmer and Bow? What about all these other princesses and their kingdoms? How do they treat you?"

"They're...they're kind to me. Every time we were off planet letting Adora do her thing, seeing people hold magic for the first time...putting up with my crap before this baby and...helping."

"Oh dearest me that sounds like dare I say, friendship!"' They gasped in mock surprise and laid a hand on their chest.

Catra shot them a scowl; it didn't last.

"Shut up before Adora gets up and misses another hour of sleep. Do you have any idea how she's been? I don't think she's even running on anything anymore like, everyday."

"Taking care of you I'd assume. Go on am I right?" Double Trouble asked (with a wiggle of their eyebrows of course) as if they were on the verge of a delicious secret. For all Catra knew they probably did and could eat those.

"Don't read my damn mind." She replied resting her chin on her palm.

"Darling, Catra, enough moping. Having to kick you in the rear like this when you of all people are making kittens is a bad look. Times have changed; you're not that hollow eyed puppet I knocked sense into back with the Horde. Be free, live a little, throw your kid wild birthday parties. And for the love of theatre get some better stylists for the two of you. I won't stand for a child who's moms aren't looking fabulous."

The whirlwind of gestures their hands made came to a stop. They stared yet again with that expectation bearing down on her. Catra read their eyes. It came from a good place; a place deep, deep past the snark. A veil of doubt that'd anchored in her fell away. Everyone had been kind no- was being kind. The cruelest thing they could do was throw a pregnant woman out to fend for herself and that was seven months too late. 'Or early. Weren't you found in a box? Weren't you out with the trash once time was up?'

She shuddered. No, it wasn't like that anymore, it had no right to be. No power over her; no power over her family. Catra grit her teeth and fangs flashed. She wouldn't let it. Without thinking a growl rumbled through her. Double Trouble clicked their tongue.

"Stress is extra bad for you right now Kitten. Just try to keep stepping out of that head of yours and see what's around for a change."

At last they stood and made to leave; Catra almost reached to stop them, then thought better. What more was there to add? They'd seen her for an open book. Instead she swallowed hard. The voice that called out to them bled sincerity.

"Thank you."

"Pay me back by making good choices darling."

Two weeks later she wriggles her toes on a beach in Mystacor. The sky shifts from twilight to orange dusk. She just knows she's counted the exact same number of clouds the past hour. The air is so clean it's her only barrier from passing out; every breath jolts energy beneath her aches. Adora's footsteps are easy to read when her ears perk. She wraps her tail around her at the feel of them sitting together.

Adora hums before reaching to stroke her belly. The kiss on her cheek is simple yet her blood dances in excitement. Their fingers lace together on the sand. It grounds them. Catra knows Bow is carrying something by the slightest drag in his gait; Glimmer (if you asked her Catra still had the right to call her Sparkles, Queen shit and everything aside) followed behind. The four of them were a crowd that made anything happen.

As if on cue the baby kicked. Whatever the others blathered about faded from her mind into white noise. Beside her time stopped for Adora too; this kid was already making them predictable. The wonder Catra watched spread across her face stayed fresh as ever. Glimmer and Bow went silent. She felt their eyes trace over, heard their breath hitch. She smiled.

"Can I feel it this time?"

"Glimmer you always ask that. Save room for Uncle Bow, who just so happens to have something I know they'll love!"

"My Aunt helped." Glimmer added behind a hand though Bow could hear her.

"Yes she did but only the clothes; these were all me. See for yourselves."

He revealed a set of dolls from a sack. Each were handwoven and stitched so well if she didn't know Bow she'd guess a machine's handiwork. Her breath hitched. Their likenesses were posed under his movements as Glimmer clapped with a giggle. Adora gasped, covered her mouth while her eyes watered. Big ol' softie her Adora was; yet she fought her own tears. The doll with her face wore a grin between cockiness and charm. The smarmy, ruthless, torn glare of her past self morphed on the silk in her minds eye. Its fangs were bared and its sneer cruel.

Catra shuddered and recoiled until she nearly toppled onto the sand. Her bug eyed stare at the thing matched her heaving chest. Nausea that chased a prickling sensation washed over her like a wave; a force of nature. Several deep breaths gave her some composure but the world continued to blur in a haze. Her heartbeat thrummed in her throat and hearing faded and-

And then Adora filled her vision; Adora held her tight until finally she went still. She felt her cheek cupped and fingers massaging through her hair. Though it had regrown thick as a mane despite reaching her shoulders Adora's nails found her scalp. Of course they would; she purred into the embrace and bit her lip to swallow a cry.

'Just try to keep stepping out of that head of yours and see what's around for a change.'

She blinked; the world popped back into place. They stared at her with faces on a scale from terror to worry; as if there were much difference. Bow's pleas about what was wrong stopped the instant her eyes dared linger on her doll again. He looked down and understood; away it went into the sack.

It wasn't the sentiment that upset her. He knew why. Words returned slow when he took her hand.

"I love it Bow, thanks, really; it's sweet of you. I'm sorry I...y'know. Need to keep working on myself."

"Hey don't apologize for that it's alright. I should be the one saying sorry; I didn't think it was still this bad for you."

"Whatever keeps bugging you we're here ok? No shaming, Horde Scum." Glimmer added with a smile that continued to forgive her more than Catra deserved in her opinion.

But if her own words couldn't be trusted, had she been shown forgiveness after all?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Adora, always there to cut to the point. She found her voice.

"When I saw myself it's like realizing my kid's gonna idolize me. They're gonna grow up having me everywhere if I'm really with them or not. They might even say they wanna be like their mom. Makes a feeling come over me...who I was tries to tell me they'll find nothing to be proud of."

"Oh Catra. We can't not let you feel that way but what matters is you've changed. You keep changing everyday; look at you now! You're committed to motherhood for one, you and Adora are amazing together, you helped me with so much paperwork- c'mon Bow tell her."

Glimmer nudged Bow until he nudged back; he gave Catra a stare that pierced her doubts. She'd rarely seen anyone who captured the sensation of light poking through clouds. He deserved to be called a sun. She swallowed hard again. God, this baby had her emotional.

"You've come a long way. We chose and keep choosing to help. I know it's hard but don't let whats in your head overpower that. We care. You're not gonna go back to being who you were. If you do, we'd stop you because we want to."

"But, everything with Angella-"

Fuck she mentioned it. Why? She just had to bring it up didn't she? 'Do you enjoy shooting yourself in the foot?...' A squeeze on her arm brought her mind to a halt. Damn, Adora may as well have a license in reading her mood. Glimmer sighed from a deep breath. She watched her face knit into something between grief and acceptance.

Everyone went silent, hinged themselves on whatever Glimmer said next. When she spoke her voice came thoughtful yet blunt.

"My mother is gone. Because of you or not she's not here and wallowing in anger and self pity isn't going to bring her back. I'm sure if she saw me still doing it she'd be upset. I've had the years I needed for that; the Catra in front of me isn't the same who pulled the switch."

Glimmer put a hand on Catra's shoulder and smiled when it was welcome. Their eyes met and she saw Bow nod. Glimmer continued in her queenly voice this time; gone were any hints she spent hours practicing, her mother's strength rang clear.

"Don't discredit our choice to forgive. Trust us to stay honest with you and care. Trust yourself like I know you can. Now, let's rate how cheesy my Aunt's baby clothes look!"

Catra's senses returned as if popping back into existence. Just like that they jumped into the next discussion, the next joke, the next tease. She sat with no one but herself to blame; no one but herself for guilt to feast on. Was that it? Was she still trapped in time? How simple it'd been to get an answer for once, yet beside it came more than she understood. The baby kicked again. She sighed and touched her stomach.

"Sorry you've got an overthinking Mama kid."

Adora nudged her. She turned to find that contagious smile to reel her in.

"Hey they're right y'know. Everything is gonna be ok, I promise."

Promises sacred as they were didn't lessen the pain. Her vision blurred at another stab of pain, another push as her entire body pulsed. Her lower back had it the worst; every ounce of pain coursed from that white hot center until Catra was sure she'd been reduced to jelly, if she could ever see straight again. Another scream tore her throat. Her body arched.

The hiss Adora shot out as Catra's claws dug into her hand registered faintly. She could hear Entrapta babbling some science jargon. Scorpia's frantic voice came beside Entrapta's assembly of rumbling tech no doubt worried over everything; that still didn't help an entire baby kicking out of her. Didn't anyone get that? Now wasn't the time for anything other than whatever got this tiny person out.

Catra screamed and shook and writhed and no matter how many times Entrapta said push it blurred together. She let her head loll sideways in exhaustion. Adora stared at her seized by panic that could do nothing but watch, and hated it. It scratched at the unfocused rage gathering around her like storm clouds. Whatever she said fell hazy on Catra's ears because not a moment behind Catra yelled,

"Next time you're doing this; when this is over I'm kicking your ass AdorAHHGGUUHHH!!!"

Several deep breaths and pushes later a wail robbed anything she could say. Every voice stopped, every head turned and every ear strained. It came again. A high pitched wail echoed through the room. A baby's first cry. There was no time then; no past nor future only the moments for each cry hurled into the world. She watched a shape writhe in Entrapta's arms at the foot of the bed. A flash of metal later and the umbilical cord was cut.  

Everything remained a blur...then Entrapta handed her a squirming bundle. The baby rested against her easier than breathing. It was just, so right; one of the most right things Catra ever knew. Their fur matched her tan orange down to the slightly darker stripes. The hair is all Catra; she'd recognize that messy brown anywhere. It's when they blink at her for the first time, that's when Adora's blue eyes stare back.

Their hands are curled into fists and they fuss under her gaze. They blink once, twice, Catra finds herself counting everything. A purr deep enough to rattle them took her by surprise. At last her claws retracted from Adora's skin; she cradled their child between measured breaths. The instant she's released Adora doesn't waste a second coming closer.

They look at each other then their child then back again. Tears are the first thing they feel together followed by Adora's lopsided grin.

"Still wanna kick my ass?"

"Shut up and get in here dummy."

Catra's voice is hoarse but that doesn't lessen the spark in their kiss. Fingers tangle in Catra's sweaty hair and she's breathless when they pull away. There's a moment of silence until Entrapta gets the drop on them. Of course she does, she's Entrapta. They can spy the glint off her tape recorder.

"Just to confirm the baby is healthy at seven pounds eight ounces, a length of twenty centimeters, tail included, and a sex of male. Now the real question is have either of you chosen a name?"

The thick tendril of Entrapta's hair holding her recorder wiggles closer. Catra snarled on impulse and fought to not snap her teeth too.

"Don't hold that thing so close to Finn's face. The sound or whatever's gonna hurt his ears."

"Finn? You want to call him Finn? I thought you still weren't sure about any names." Adora said with the slightest confusion.

"Yeah I was but...I dunno it just feels right. Doesn't he look like a Finn? Hey Scorpia come over here! Does he or does he not look like a Finn?"

If it was possible for scorpions to move like they wanted to break the sound barrier without actually doing so, that was how Scorpia rushed over. Honestly Catra would laugh if she weren't cradling her son as if guarding her trove. Those enormous pincers are enough to shadow Finn's head as he attempts to swat one. Instead Adora gave him a finger to cling on. The tears streaking from Scorpia's eyes dripped waterfalls down her chin.

"Wildcat you're asking me what he looks like? Oh of course he's a Finn, look at that handsome little face and that tiny nose! And his hair! Catra that one is all you oh that stuff is gonna break so many combs I tell ya. He's even got his claws already; you guys have a mama's boy on your hands gosh. I remember when Flora hatched, ah good times..."

"Scorpia..."

"Huh? Oh sorry Wildcat yeah he's definitely a Finn! What'd ya think Adora? Entrapta?"  

"Hmm...Baby Log Day, well day of birth. Catra has asked me if her newborn resembles a 'Finn'. As the only knowledge I'm aware of regarding this relates to fish, I will say yes. Fish and their fins are something cats enjoy and thus it is logical."

The line of stares fixed on her made Entrapta press her recorder.

"Addendum, it is also very cool."

"Adora?" Catra called.

Every stare turned toward her awaiting a verdict. Finn gurgled and squirmed when she met his stare. There fell a moment of purest silence.

"Yeah. Finn is a good name. We'll get him ready to propel through life."

There was an echoing 'thwack' when Catra smacked Adora's hair poof; Adora's giggling poured out even as Glimmer, Bow, and every Princess they knew finally appeared. Catra's bed was rushed by a crowd acting like they'd never seen an infant. Then again, no one had seen anyone of Catra's race all her life. Not that she'd asked around.

"I'm so sorry we couldn't come sooner! The meeting ran into overtime but we're here now. Where's the baby?"

Glimmer moved through the parting crowd as she spoke; her body radiated energy while her eyes scanned around. She and Bow must've shared the same mind because they were the first to study Finn. Their jaws dropped.

"So. Darned. Cute. Those ears." Bow said. His eyes practically sparkled with joy.

Glimmer looked at Catra, then Adora with a face that fought a hold on restraint.

"You guys can hold him. Just don't crowd his space." Catra said smiling.

Those were the words that released whatever collective breath everyone held. Finn was passed around the room leaving praise and awe in his wake. Everyone had their own opinions; so much so that the buzz of their chatting built Catra's headache right as Finn was finally returned. Frosta was yelling about how to shape a commemorative ice sculpture; Perfuma created several bouquets now burying Adora. Bow, Entrapta, and Scorpia stood putting their heads together discussing proper baby nutrition over the next year.

When she checked Finn his face grew red then wrinkled and that's when it hit. A full strength wail. The kind of cry to break noise into silence and validate Catra's agitation. Something resembling peace slid over the tension settling in the air. Adora managed to roll out of the flowers before looking at Catra. A nod in response is all she needs to wrangle everyone away. When the door closes for the last time only the three of them remain.

Finn continued crying though nowhere as intense. Catra took a deep breath, then she held the infant face down, tucked his arms across his chest, and finished by holding his bottom. She had to give herself credit; not a single mistake, Perfuma may as well have done it for her. The cries quieted immediately and ceased when she gently rocked him. In a minute he lay snuggled on her chest. Sleep made his eyes fight to stay open though he soon lost.

"He curls up just like you."

"Yeah. We'll see if he keeps the whole castle awake with your snoring." Catra replied chuckling.

Adora is beside her in seconds with that lopsided grin. The bed gets crowded bearing the three of them but it'll manage.

"I'm not an awful snorer ok; everyone's gonna survive when they sleep. They've done it this long."

"So you admit it's a problem."

"No! Anyway that's not important look at his chubby cheeks. That's all him."

"Babe, I think that's something every baby has. Did you forget all seven of Scorpia's kids, or even Bow and Glimmer's daughter?"

"Of course not but you're not looking at them. We made those. They're perfect and adorable as much as the rest of him."

Adora stroked Finn's hair and nestled against Catra's side. Together they yawned then laughed.

"Tired?"

"I gave birth Adora of course I am."

"Heh, sorry. Nighty night you two."

She's long learned Adora's penchant for sleeping hard enough to make the dead jealous. How exactly she can turn it on and off yet thrash restlessly, still waking up then tackling an entire day? After years Catra might never know and, some days, didn't care to anymore. It simply was. That was Adora, always rushing to do everything, solve every problem, take every blow. No matter how much their loved ones- no matter how many times Catra told her otherwise some piece stayed. It was like an infection molded into Adora's skin.

God did Catra still hate it. If Finn inherited that...

Her body ached worse than getting dragged by rope. She would know; Glimmer had been the one pulling after all.  In those days of war and violence whipped into a storm this feeling was nothing new. Yet it was. Now there came a new tired setting on her bones. The tired from achieving something bigger than herself yet selfish in origin. Well, maybe the selfish part hadn't changed.

Maybe she really can be good not just do good. Adora began to snore as Catra let sleep claim her.

When Finn turns one year old Catra has settled into the race of parenthood. There's feeding time, nap time, diaper changing, the once a week checkups, and making a fool of herself so Finn laughs. One day passes with the funneled energy of several; no longer can she rise with the sun into a cage of rumination. Finn dictates her snapping awake on whims as random as the harried sleep itself.

She can't mope she just can't, he won't let her. He needs her and for the first time even beyond Adora, Catra accepts it. Not hesitating or doubting or anything else. Not the painstaking slip and climb over struggle after struggle until she and Adora were finally level. Finn right now is only a creature of needs; without her...she doesn't want to think further. There is finally someone for whom she can only give at the very beginning. The stress is worth it, it's not about her faults.

Perfuma notices of course. The way she walks ever eager into their meetings, even with eye-bags, stands far more confident than the hesitation that made her drag her feet. From the stares she gets now it's as if persecution and guilt lie only in her shadow. At least, that's what she thinks Perfuma means when one meeting she says,

"You look radiant Catra! Have you been keeping up with your personal letters?"

The morning light shines behind Perfuma making her hair resemble a glow. Combined with her chipper voice and pristine skincare (Seriously how did she keep up with seven kids at her heels?) Catra would be getting a headache right now. The old her would think Perfuma above her wielding such composure, such carefree grace. The her of the present instead replies weary but smiling.  

"I have. For real this time too. No more skipping days."

"Oh lovely, I'm glad you're coming around. Self reflection and forgiveness can be so liberating; never forget you're allowing yourself space and patience. Walk with me."

She's heard those words enough to make her head spin, but now they land in her heart. A warmth seeps in the way she thinks Perfuma always intended. If she had to reflect now as they pass Scorpia's gardens, she wouldn't call messy hair, tired eyes, and what might be clothes from two days ago radiant. Perfuma probably wasn't being literal.

The trails of Perfuma's green shawl (Seemingly more fluttery today than usual; like butterfly wings if she had to compare) stop inside a wide room. Catra knows which pillow to sit on and in seconds Perfuma is across her. Their eyes meet then close before performing a basic breathing exercise. One breath in and Catra gathers her worries, one pause, on the exhale her body relaxes.

Her eyes open and find Perfuma doing the same. The ear to ear smile on her face still unnerves Catra like a pinprick; it's strange to be so happy in a world built on entropy. Catra's allowed that hesitation, right? No she's being an idiot again; she's seen Perfuma a mess, back when Scorpia and all her people contorted under Horde Prime's marching orders, under the chips once burrowed in their flesh.

Regardless she'd never given up then. She hadn't been Catra running away the minute she projected doubt on Adora. She shook her head and sighed. This was getting nowhere. Of course for her part Perfuma sat in silence, waiting for as much time as Catra needed. She smiled shyly at that.

"Sorry got lost in reflecting I guess."

"It's alright Catra that's what we're here for. Do you want to share your thoughts?"

"I think you already know after this long." Catra licked her lips nervously.

"I don't mind listening."

A long pause. She read nothing but openness in Perfuma's eyes.

"You know I've said before I was jealous of you, unnerved even. How could anyone stay so happy when the world hurts? Well now I think I understand. There's no point in dwelling on my pain. Sure I can feel it, acknowledge it, but it'll pass again. Letting it control me when it's something I'll carry forever is exhausting. All I've done then is hurt myself when for once no one else wants to. That's what Finn's made me  realize."

She finished with a sigh and slackened shoulders; a woman spent at last of a pointless barrier. Isolation was no longer a badge of honor; it never had been. Perfuma wore genuine surprise like she'd heard something profound, not Catra stating the obvious. When Perfuma next spoke the words poured out afraid to stop. Afraid, Catra senses, that Catra will bolt away in embarrassment.  

"I'm proud of you that's the most you've shared all at once yet. And it sounds like it truly means self-love. You're allowing vulnerability and have accepted a truth. We are all works in progress."

"Thanks. I guess I have." The tears flowing down Catra's face make her voice wobble.

"Would you like a hug?"

With a nod Catra opened her arms and wept into Perfuma's dress; she wept the choked yet earnest sobs of a child. She felt a hand pat her hair.

"What happened when you were a child, it's not your fault."

There comes a pause where Catra stiffens then pulls back but not away. Her watery eyes glisten under the light while the rest of her trembles. Her lips quiver wanting to fight a new sob on instinct; it makes her teeth grit. None of it is hostile, Catra stares at Perfuma who again brings down the axe on the final barrier tainting her heart. Despite herself the words are out; Shadow Weaver installed that defense mechanism in her, denial.

"It is...it is."

"It's not your fault."

"But it is! I deserved it because I couldn't fight back!"

"It's not your fault."

"It...I...did."

Catra's face scrunched under the weight of the lie. She gets a solemn head shake in response. The sick sensation in her chest crumbles and her body feels no stronger than jelly. This time she clings back in Perfuma's embrace. She wails. Perfuma's reassurance pierces the scared girl inside gentle as sunshine.

"It's not your fault."

When the flood within her passes they mulled over tea. The silence now settled almost as comfortable as being with Adora. If Catra thought harder on it though, maybe silences themselves didn't need Adora to be good. Maybe the truth is Adora isn't the only bond to believe in; the others have waited on Catra long enough. She feels a pang of guilt at that. It flickers then dies when she hears the question,

"How are you and Finn? You mentioned him earlier."

"Kinda speaks for itself just looking at me y'think? But uh, sorry. It's been great; busy every second and sometimes I wanna tear my hair out but...in the end I really do like being a mom. It's not just about loving Finn and having him with Adora either. It's also like...I dunno..."

"Like starting over; a second chance?"

"Yeah...yeah I think it is." Catra smiled.

"The advice I can give for that is don't forget you're still guiding him. Parenting with compassion and trust will help you both, but he must find himself and make his choices."

She had nothing to add other than slight alarm. Then the weight behind the words settled, planted seeds in her thoughts. She stared out the window drinking her tea; her mind drifted and for once the peace of it wasn't strange.

When Finn is two years old he shivers in her arms. The storm sent another sheet of rain beating against the castle. Grey covers the window glass and another lightening flash dimly illuminates the room. In the span of a blink it's gone; Finn  mewled stuffing part of Catra's shirt in his mouth. Her hand ran through his hair. That seemed to relax his hold.

He looked up at her with Adora's wide blue eyes and for an instant Catra remembers being six, Adora's blanket her only comfort on nights like this.

"It's a thunderstorm Finn. I know it sounds scary but it'll pass ok? It always has before. You were too little to remember."

"Where's Mommy?"

She hears the fear getting ahold of him; she answers a touch too fast. It takes everything in her hoping he didn't notice.

"With Auntie Glimmer remember? They're meeting about adult stuff. We have to wait."

"I want her here."

"I know Finn, I know. She's coming. You're ok with me. Nothing bad will happen. Mommy's coming soon."

He nodded and though he whimpered he concentrated on Catra alone. At the next roar of thunder however he stiffened with his tail gone frizzy. The door opened bringing a stripe of light and Adora's unmistakable silhouette. Immediately Finn sprang out of Catra's arms to tackle Adora's legs. Catra hears her gasp then laugh softly as she kneels.

"Mommy! Be She-Ra!"

"Hey there to you too Finn. Why do you want She-Ra out?"

"Make bad sounds go away."

"It's the weather, I don't control that. Weren't you safe with Mama? Look she's waiting for us and I bet she stayed the whole time."

"But I want Mama and Mommy..."

Catra left bed and kneeled beside Adora. She ruffled Finn's hair; his tears were gone with a swipe of her thumb. Adora held his hands smiling while Catra went on.

"It's ok to be scared. We won't leave you not ever."

"Even when one of us isn't here with you, remember we love you. Think real hard about us when you're scared and all the bad stuff will go away."

Finn sniffled, swallowed, fumbled to speak those words they knew were sacred.

"You promise?"

"Yes." They reply together.

More thunder cracks the air signaling another swell of hissing rain. She watched as he froze squeezing his eyes shut. His hands balled into fists; he didn't flinch or cry when the storm gentled again. Now he stood trembling but no less brave. The warmth spreading through Catra was mirrored in the indescribable pride on Adora's face. She reached for her hand and it was held.

"Like that?" Finn asked, staring at them as if everything hinges on this moment.

"Just like that."

Catra kisses his forehead; it's no time at all until they hug him close. His heartbeat calms under their embrace and she purrs; it's always as hard as the day he was born. The purr she feels back widens her eyes then-

"Mama why're you crying?"

"She's happy you did it, right Catra?"

"Yeah...I'm happy Finn."

She shivers at Adora's kiss on her cheek. The touch of her breath tickling when she whispers almost makes Catra purr, for a reason neither can say aloud. She wraps her tail around Adora's wrist and listens.

"I'll get him to bed ok. Won't be long."

Catra mumbles her reply against her lips,

"I know."

They kiss and though it's a second before Adora pulls away, Catra knows peace.

At three years old Finn runs through the halls whooping and hollering. The stuffed bear glides through the air in his grasp. She knows Mr. Snuggles will need a wash when the day's done. Cupping her hands around her mouth she gently calls after.

"Don't run so fast you'll trip. Watch where you're going."

"Yeah Mama I know!"

Of course the thud she expected comes not an instant later. Even if he landed on carpet her blood pounds in panic; she sprints light on her feet toward his side. No second is wasted righting him from laying flat on his belly. She checks his arms, his legs, his face, the back of his head is fine too. He holds his wrist looking down ashamed.

"My head hurts."

"It's alright we'll get some medicine before seeing Mommy. Next time watch out ok? I might not have been here to help."

He nodded but still won't meet her eyes. Her expression falls. She sits with her hand giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze; her tail twitched nervously. Finn is silent. Far more than if he acted up or felt too embarrassed. The air itself feels heavier as if to breathe means starting a count down before down becomes up and left is right. Her voice shakes ever so slightly. Was this because of her?

"Finn? What's wrong? Does it hurt real bad?"

"Auncle Dee Tee told me something that made me feel funny. Flora and Angella said boys get hurt a lot when they play. B-But I like girl games with them too! When I fell I remembered what Auncle Dee Tee said."

"That's just silly there aren't 'boy' and 'girl' games. Just games. What'd Auncle say?"

"They said that too. They said nobody has to be a girl or boy if they don't want to. They said a big word like 'nuhncun-foming' I think."

She hears footsteps round the corner, a walk she could pick out anywhere. Adora stops then assesses; she wastes no time coming to them. Immediately her face is knit in worry and concentration. Catra knows that look better than herself. The look of a soldier, of years honed as a commanding officer, the look her fantasies once replicated dreaming of their conquest of Etheria...it's never appeared serene as it does now.

It reminds her not for the last time she's not alone.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt Finn? I knew I heard something bump on my way over."

"He tripped and fell but it's not serious. I checked already. He just has a headache."

"Good. C'mon let's go get medi-"

"Adora wait. He had something important he was saying. Finn? Can you tell Mommy what you told me?"

His expression finally lights up again; courage gathered when he stands straighter and stares at them firm.

"When I fell I remembered what Auncle told me. They said some people don't feel like they're just a boy or girl. My girl friends said boys fall a lot playing; I like their girl stuff where we don't fall a lot too! I wanna...I wanna be like Auncle. Auncle sounds like me."

They sat and the silence turned to awe. They glanced at one another then at Finn, who stood in utmost seriousness. Double Trouble's words floated to the surface of Catra's memories. She had to step outside her own head right? Well this time the world did it well enough for her. Adora as usual is the first to make a move.

"What do you want us to call you?"

"I'm Finn! I don't wanna be a boy or a girl I wanna be both! I wanna do everything I like as me. Can I be 'nunhcuhnfoming' too?"

To their surprise they chuckle as Finn looks on, conviction dropping into worry. Catra grinned and pulled Finn into a hug.

"You can be whatever you want kid including nonconforming. We're not gonna say no to anything like that."

"Do you want us to still call you 'He'?" Adora said in a tone that announces she's not worrying herself sick for once.

"Nuh uh! Auncle uses 'They'."

"Then that's what we'll use too. Thanks for telling us Finn."

Finn, they, beam from ear to ear. They picked up and dusted off Mr. Snuggles holding him close. They purr echoing through the hall; by instinct Catra joins in while Adora plants kisses all over Finn's cheeks.

"Does your head still hurt?"

"A little..."

"Let's go make it better then."

Finn is four when their troublemaking streak starts to shine. They let Adora chase them through the back gardens at a sprint. It's an unspoken dare to crown who's faster and watching from the sidelines, Catra doesn't need to guess it's Finn. Like what she imagined of any child of hers Finn scampers up a tree next. They wave a toy and blow a raspberry down at Adora who's panting for dear life. Her poor fool never stood a chance.

Adora stands hunched over, her finger raised to call a time out. She's still gathering her breath when Catra hears her force out words as she walks toward them both.

"Ok give Mommy a break for...five minutes...or forever. Ugh."

"You're too slow so I win!"

They watch as Finn sticks their tongue out again. Catra kneels to pat Adora's shoulder. She plants a kiss in her hair and grins.

"Hate to say it but I told you they'd beat you. Give it up Adora."

"I'll never...understand...how you two...do it...so unfair."

"Only She-Ra can win a race with me Mommy. If you're She-Ra it's really hard to keep up."

Still wheezing Adora glanced at Catra in defeat. A shrug is all she gets in response. Finn sits on a branch above them swinging their legs, the embodiment of confidence. Then they do something that throws off even Catra; they hang from their perch by the tail. Upside down Finn pays no heed to their gaping Mama and instead teases Adora with another raspberry. She falls on her ass yelping.

A choked giggle left Catra before rising to laughter. By the time she's full on snorting she rolls in the grass; upside down Adora scowls at them both but it's all in fun. The way she sees her blush makes her nerves go fluttery. She doesn't need to be told when their eyes meet and Catra knows it's mutual. Before anything can come of it Finn lands on the ground effortlessly.

She watches them tug Adora's sleeve; the fake modesty and flattering lilt they're piling on too thick gives them away. The fact that they can hold the performance this well is far more a Catra thing than Adora. She feels hesitant pride bubble within her. Could she have that knowing where it came from?

"Mommy my toy got stuck up there, can She-Ra get it? Because she's faster and stuff."

"Finn I can't keep transforming all week."

"Pleeease? It's the last day today; you said I could ask sometimes."

"Damnni-uh I mean I remember. Fine but only because you asked nicely."

Catra doesn't need to be an Entrapta-level genius to hear the unspoken, 'And because I totally lost too.' Finn definitely  hears it by the satisfaction in their grin. With a resigned sigh Adora straightened and stretched out a hand. From the bottom of her lungs she bellowed,

"For the Honor of Greyskull!"

A blinding light engulfed Adora from the outline of a golden sword. Catra still had no idea where it always came from. It was of course magic however; you never had to question that kind of thing. She figured that was why it felt comforting, familiar, compared to hard numbers. Most of all, she muses as the light dims, magic embodies everything Adora has been long before the sword.

The light leaves dissolving into rainbow trails. They outline She-Ra's massive form towering at eight feet. Her arms are almost as thick as the tree branches themselves when she begins to climb. Finn watched with their jaw hanging and eyes wide. Their fists rest against their teeth as if every transformation will be the last each time; the anticipation mixed with joy is almost palpable when it infects Catra.

She nudges them while Adora gets tangled in leaves. Finn's rapture breaks and they flash her a knowing smile.

"You love being sneaky huh?"

"She-Ra is cool!"

They look up together and find Adora fumbling not to fall. Though She-Ra carries a noble poise Adora is very much the one nervously sweating. Catra grinned.

"She's very cool."

Adora successfully lands without a scratch; the toy rocket is the size of a river stone in She-Ra's large hand. In an instant  it's back to scale when She-Ra is dismissed, a gold afterglow outlining Adora. It hits Catra then that Finn has grown at level with Adora's waist. When did that happen over the years?

"One missing toy rescued from an evil tree. It won't be eating any more any time soon."

"Thanks Mommy. No more She-Ra for a little bit."

"Right. Mommy needs breaks just like She-Ra does too."

Catra takes Adora's hand and wraps her tail around her. Her purr is soft though outmatched by the gentle kiss she gives her wife. She glanced at Finn who waits expectantly; the toy is already forgotten in favor of another game. Catra chuckles.

"Ok Finn you've had enough of bossing Mommy. This time I'll race you home."

"Loser has to give up dessert!"

"Sure kid. Ready set go!"

Like a bullet Catra sprints down the low hill; she barely hears Finn's call above the wind. In seconds they're right behind and she finds herself laughing carefree into the dusk.

Finn is five when their fur becomes their first taste of responsibility. Their tail is a mess of frizz most mornings; their thick hair resembles a mop fighting against every tame comb they own. Catra does her best to guide them, but she hasn't been five in twenty years. The memories since remain dark and pressed under the claws of greater horrors. Had she ever had time to brush herself seriously then? Not a relevant question; this isn't the time for self grieving.

Finn fusses, tries again, then scowls. They look at her with a plea in their eyes. Catra blinks then finds them slumping shoulders and lips quivering. Their hair seems messier than before for every wrong stroke. It takes her longer than she'd like to notice the budding tears.

"Hey it's ok we'll keep trying. It's hard at first but you can do it."

"Bet it's easy for you Mama."

"Why's that?"

"Because you never get messy. Your hair is always pretty."

Catra beckons and they come within her reach. She wipes their tears, smoothes their tangles best she can. They stare into her eyes with that intensity only they can muster.

"I used to be worse than you. When I was your age I had no one helping me."

"Not even Mommy?"

Catra laughed quiet and gentle, always gentle.

"She tried but she was as small as you. And we know Mommy doesn't look the same; she didn't know how. Do you know how old I was when I learned to keep my hair pretty? Really got good at it?"

Finn shook their head. She could sense the sadness give way to curiosity, to a rising hope.

"I was already a grown up. Wayyy bigger than you y'know? If it took me so long there's no rush. You keep trying until it works ok."

"Ok..."

"Let's start over. Just watch me first."

Time passes in a haze enough for her to learn Finn took after her old temper; step by patient step her hands once drenched in the blood of another life calm them to retry. They break for lunch and laugh together, their mistakes now harmless behind them. This, Catra has learned, is completion.

Princess Prom makes everyone nervous and excited equally. She watches Finn, taller than most other ten year olds, adjust their tie. She smiles remembering how many they'd tried on that morning without complaint. How when the right one came along they'd strutted prideful for her and Adora's opinion. They fidget flexing their hand and rocking on their heels. She can't blame them; the announcer's droning speech packs more formality than Catra thought was possible.

Put simply, it's boring, and they both fight a yawn. Adora doesn't notice them tap their feet together, one leading the other following, until another six minutes that pass like hours. She shushes them but when another minute crawls by she joins in. The three of them form a jagged rhythm while holding back giggles.

When the solemnity is done away with and the dance floor opens they lose Finn to their friends. She sends them off with a cheek kiss and Adora's blessing to have fun, then they're alone. They whisk themselves to the snack bar; she watches Adora gorge on tiny food like she's taken Entrapta's appetite for herself. Smirking as she leans against the table she knows Adora can feel her gaze.

"Alright Princess charge your battery any more and I'll dance by myself."

"Noa faish wahit fo me!" Adora forced out through a mouthful.

"Hey easy there. What's that translate to?"

Adora swallows hard and snorts at her.

"I said no fair wait for me. Now you're getting payback."

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try."

Before she can register it a cupcake is smashed into her mouth. She can hear Adora laughing even when Catra serves one back in retaliation. By the time they've wasted three cupcakes they don't hear Scorpia saunter over. They nearly tumble face first into her serving tray.

"Whoa slow down guys! Party just started to get so worked up. You two sure love having fun."

"Sorry Scorpia didn't see you there. Catra wants to hurry and dance; I want to savor what Entrapta had prepared tonight."

Catra stuck out her tongue and laughed when Adora elbowed her side in jest. When they look over Scorpia has forgone food entirely. She stares at them, her eyes glistening from would be tears.

"You guys are just adorable did you know that?"

"You remind us all the time." Catra replied and wrapped an arm around Adora.

"Actually uh, on second thought, I've got icing down my dress. Excuse me ladies."

Adora gives her a peck of a kiss before disappearing. Catra watched her go spellbound by the soft lights cast on everyone. Adora's outline is dreamlike, Catra can hear her breath hitch. Then far too suddenly she's gone. It's funny, she no longer feels the pain that once tore through her fast as lightening. Maybe parting no longer means goodbye. She knows she always knew.

"Y'know Wildcat I gotta say I've never seen you look this happy. Well happier than that time in the Crimson Wastes. Oh or when Finn was born. It's nice."

"Heh. We're in the same boat then. I can't even tell when it started."

"Wanna know how I can tell this time?"

The intensity in Scorpia's tone made Catra straighten. She stopped trying to eat another cupcake and met her gaze.

"It's the eyes. They're so clear these days. They're empty, not in a bad way. Like...it's like you can take on anything. You've got resolve but it's not angry."

"Calm?"

"Yeah. Calm and whole. That's some strength even I don't think I have yet. Your eyes can see through anything."

"Geez way to praise a girl. I think I get it though. Adora's been saying something similar. Glimmer, Bow, Perfuma...everyone brings it up somehow. They act like I'm supposed to know just haven't told them." Catra smiles around a bite of her snack. It was achingly sweet yet she closed her eyes and tasted the love put in.

"Of course they see it too. Every truly strong person is kind."

Catra's eyes widen. For a moment she moves as if to speak then instead smiles, content. Her heart feels light as a feather.

She spots Adora returning through the crowd. Everyone parts reverently for the savior of the galaxy; to Catra it's another homecoming. They don't need the titles or praise; at last having each other, having themselves, is enough.

Scorpia takes her leave just as Adora emerges. The teasing look she wore before is replaced by excitement; the kind that simply is because it can be. Without prompting she offered Catra her hand. She's seen this scene countless times in as many settings. She takes it.

"Ready for that dance I owe you?"

It happens in an instant; Catra reads her eyes. They're calm, resolved, kind. Her reflection stares back within their clarity. She smiles. She hopes Finn will have those eyes someday.

"Always am."

[carewyncromwell]

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, So we'll know where you are --  Gleaming in the skies above, Lead me to the one who loves me...”

~“The Second Star to the Right (cover),” by Simone

x~x~x~x

HEY PETER PAN ANON! I MADE YOU SOMETHING!! 8D

Hahaha, yes! This is Peter-Pan!Orion and Wendy!Carewyn (Carewyndy?). No, I won’t be writing this AU before the Tangled AU at least (and yes, I should have that up hopefully by next week)...but I couldn’t resist doodling these and talking a bit about the daydreaming I did based on this concept. Orion’s ripped pants were kind of based on how the pants are ripped in the 2003 Peter Pan’s costume, but I just couldn’t resist giving him his canon fingerless armwarmers. (I see them being forest green just like his pants, though, while his tunic is a light tan.)

Basically I see eternally 12-1/2-year old Orion Amari taking a strong liking to 10-year-old Carewyn Cromwell when she comes to Neverland. Even though she does act a bit too grown-up sometimes, it’s largely because of how deeply she feels for other people -- she’s determined to protect others, whether from bullying or actual danger, and she hates the thought of anyone feeling alone. She actually is the only person who’s ever asked Orion if he was lonely, being the only child who was destined to never grow up. And as much as Orion will airily state that “to die would be an awfully big adventure,” he finds that it’s Carewyn who believes this most, for the idea of growing older doesn’t frighten her the way it does her grandfather, the man now called Captain Hook. If anything, what makes her saddest about leaving Neverland is not for her sake, but for Orion’s -- she, Jacob, Charlie, and Bill were all going home to London, along with a good chunk of Orion’s friends among the Lost Kids...and Carewyn hated the thought that she’d never see her friend Orion again. So she reminded Orion that she would always have her window open at night, if he ever wanted to come and visit, hear her read a story or two, or even just listen to her singing while she did her evening chores. Sensing Orion’s hesitance, she reassured him that she’d never forget him. 

Orion proceeded to return to life in Neverland, embarking on those same old adventures that make the days blur and make it easy to forget things. Forgetting was part of Neverland’s magic -- even Bill had almost forgotten he had a new baby sister back in London, when he, Charlie, and Carewyn had been there with Orion and the Lost Kids. But, as Orion would often tell himself, adults forgot things in the other world too: they forgot the joys of childhood, they forgot the freedom and the simple pleasures and the bottomless daydreams. All of them, every last one of them, eventually forgot how to fly. 

But perhaps because of Carewyn’s final promise, every time Orion thought of how easy it was to forget things in Neverland, and therefore how easy it was to forget things outside of it, Carewyn’s face and words always returned to his mind. And so, the memory of her conviction and caring never strayed too far from his mind...and with it, other thoughts would crop up too. How stable things had been, when Carewyn was around. How well she understood him and how easy it was to talk to her and trust in her. And it was then that Orion realized that he really, truly missed Carewyn. It was a feeling he’d never really experienced that deeply before, not even for the other children who had eventually returned home to their families. Even Bill and Charlie, who Orion likewise grew reasonably fond of, didn’t make him feel like his stomach was always empty, no matter how much food he ate -- like his heart was scraping at the inside of his chest like a hungry animal desperate to devour something outside its cage. And that feeling only intensified when his fairy guardian Merula would try to urge him to go challenge Torvus and the centaurs to a race or splash around with the mermaids, even when Orion wasn’t in the mood to do so. 

Orion felt restless, unsure of quite what was wrong with him and not knowing how to explain his muddled thought process to McNully and his remaining Lost Kids. One day Orion was eventually persuaded by McNully to lead an expedition to find a lost chest of pirate treasure, and for a short while, the Boy Who Never Grew Up was simply able to enjoy pulling one over on his old enemy and sharing the loot with his gang. That changed, though, when Captain Hook crashed the party. 

Orion and Hook traded as many blows as ever, throwing insults at each other like they always did -- but this day, Hook said one barbed phrase that stuck in Orion’s ear more than he ever would’ve admitted.

“Already forgotten my dear Winnie, I see. But I guess I can’t be surprised. After all, the only thing that can break through Neverland’s curse -- that thing that makes everyone forget...is love. And you -- ha -- you don’t know anything about that, do you, boy?”

Love. Yes. That was the thing that made Carewyn remember her lost brother and mother, even while she was a Lost Girl. That was the thing that had made Charlie remember his parents, even after he’d forgotten London altogether. That was the thing that made Bill remember his other siblings, once he remembered how his baby sister Ginny would always cry after her afternoon nap until he came home from his newspaper route and bounced her up and down for a minute or two. That was the thing that had made Jacob remember his little sister in London, even after he was kidnapped by Hook and commandeered into piracy. And, Orion realized, it was the thing that he missed most about Carewyn -- her ability to love more deeply than anyone else he had ever known...like a mother would, and yet like an equal...a companion, more than just someone to go on adventures with. 

Orion tried to broach this topic with Merula, but the huffy little fairy put up her walls and stubbornly refused to let them down. Feelings were grown-up things, and Orion didn’t need grown-up things! Orion wanted to agree, but the feelings he felt were becoming heavy -- so heavy, in fact, that he found it harder for him to find his center, to think thoughts happy enough that he could fly to any height he wanted. He actually found himself hovering and floating more than flying...and this troubled him. It made him more anxious than he could remember ever being. 

Then the thought struck him -- why didn’t he just go and visit Carewyn? She said he could, whenever he wanted. She could tell him some stories and sing some songs for him -- maybe she could even sew him a new pocket for his shirt! These thoughts perked Orion up a bit, and he decided to leave for London straightaway. 

He hadn’t expected it to be so cold -- for you see, in Neverland, it’s every season all year ‘round, all except winter. It was a fact Carewyn had lamented, for winter was her favorite season. She loved the Christmas holidays and how everyone would gather around the fireplace with warm food together and sing Christmas songs and tell stories. It had actually sounded kind of nice to Orion, when she described it to him and the Lost Kids -- but on this day in London, Orion didn’t think the cold was so nice, nor the gray, dreary city itself. There were buildings that had been crushed and holes in cobblestone streets, made by bombs that had been dropped by German Zeppelins, and just about nobody raised their heads enough to look skyward. The adults prowling the streets were just as lacking of joy as Orion had always imagined them to be, yet it wasn’t due to stupid grown-up things like wearing a tie to work or paying bills. Instead there was exhaustion, sadness...pain. Orion hated these people’s wrinkles even more than the ones he’d see on the pirates’ faces, from dwelling on mindless things like how much treasure they had or what their daily duties were. 

But none of that mattered, of course. What mattered was seeing Carewyn. But alas, when Orion arrived at the Weasleys’ house, it was still daytime...and the window to the room Carewyn, Bill, and Charlie once shared was locked. 

Orion rattled at the window desperately, slapping the glass and pulling at its handles as he cried her name. All logic left his mind -- his breathing became raspier and weaker even as he shouted louder. 

She had to be there -- she had to be there -- she couldn’t have forgotten -- she wouldn’t have forgotten -- she promised -- she promised she wouldn’t forget him -- love was what kept someone from forgetting -- Carewyn knew love better than anyone -- she loved her brother -- she loved the Weasleys -- she loved the Lost Kids and Torvus and the mermaids and the fairies -- she loved Orion -- didn’t she love -- ?

As Orion’s anxiety spiked, the magic of Merula’s fairy dust began to abandon him. He found himself becoming heavier. He tried to cling onto the windowsill, pulling at and smacking the window, but it wasn’t wide enough for him to hold onto while it was closed. Soon enough he found himself falling slowly, like someone drifting down to the bottom of a pool...and when he landed on the ground, he landed on his knees, shaking. He clasped his hands together, his eyes wide and hollow upon the frosty ground as wintry condensation fell from his panting lips. 

He’d lost his happy thought. He’d lost it. 

He tried to fly. He tried desperately to fly, only to fall and scrape his knees and hands. Never in his life had Orion Amari ever been so frightened, shuddering from head to toe in the freezing cold. 

He shakily got to his bare feet and, barely knowing where he was going, he walked. He wandered aimlessly, his eyes glassing over as he gasped for air, searching every revolted and anxious face that he passed as the faces’ owners cringed at the state of his long hair, ripped clothes, and lack of shoes. 

Orion wandered for what felt like hours, until at long last, as if by fate, he ended up not far away from a Church-funded school, which taught both elementary and higher-elementary-level students. One of those such students was a girl with a ginger braid and almond-shaped blue eyes, walking home with several classmates, including a black-haired girl with glasses carrying a bunch of books, a rather pretty blonde with pigtail braids, and a rather cowardly-looking boy with blond hair, brown eyes, and a very thick sweater and mittens over his Church-provided uniform. The ginger-haired girl herself was wrapped up in a rather thick old dark blue blanket she’d turned into a shawl after it got ripped and had been holding it tightly around herself when, all of a sudden, she heard her name being cried by a misty, and yet anxious voice. 

“Carewyn! Carewyn...!”

One can only imagine what Carewyn’s school friends Rowan Khanna, Penny Haywood, and Ben Copper thought, seeing such a scrawny, ragamuffin street boy running toward their friend. Rowan actually tried to step in front of Carewyn as if to protect her, while Ben made as if to cling onto Carewyn’s arm in terror. But Carewyn herself, her eyes very wide upon the boy, immediately tore away from both Rowan and Ben and ran to Orion without a single shred of hesitation. 

“Orion?!”

She barreled over, whipping the shawl off her shoulders and wrapping it around his instead. 

“Orion, what are you doing here?! You’re going to catch a death of cold!”

Orion hadn’t been able to stop shaking for an instant, but her shouting his name, rushing to take care of him -- her remembering him -- it made his heart feel like a beast craving food again. Her concern wet his appetite. He wanted it. He wanted her caring. He wanted her love...

She was as tall as him. She’d been so tiny before...

“Carewyn...you know this boy?” asked Rowan, looking bewildered.

“Yes,” said Carewyn, glancing over her shoulder, “he’s a friend. Rowan, this is Orion. Orion, this is -- ”

“You’ve...grown older,” Orion’s absent mumble cut her off. 

Carewyn fixed him with a faintly reproachful look. “I’m afraid that does happen, in the span of three years...”

Thirteen. She was thirteen. ...She was older than him.

Carewyn’s eyes welled up with concern as she looked Orion over. She turned to her friends quickly. 

“...I’d better get him inside and warm...I’ll see you all tomorrow, okay?”

She quickly bid her friends goodbye, before wrapping an arm tightly around Orion’s shoulders as best she could, rubbing his arm through her shawl in an attempt to warm him. 

“Orion, what were you thinking?” she whispered, her voice full of concern as her eyes stayed locked ahead at their path. “Coming here in broad daylight, in this cold...”

Orion had started to shake again, his hands clasping more tightly. 

“Your window was shut,” he mumbled. 

Carewyn looked very upset. “...My old window, you mean? The one I shared with Bill and Charlie? Oh, Orion, I don’t share a room with Bill and Charlie anymore -- I share with Ginny now. Girls’ room, you know. Charlie and Percy actually share that room now...Bill’s sharing a flat with several other boys, closer to the newspaper’s headquarters in the East End...” 

Her eyes rippled with pain. 

“...Ginny’s and my room doesn’t have a window,” she explained. “I’ve told Charlie and Percy to keep their window open for me, but...well, Percy’s grown up way too fast. He must have closed it to block out the air raid sirens last night and forgotten to reopen it...”

Orion didn’t understand half of what Carewyn was saying, but the tone she spoke with held such reassurance and remorse that it soothed the racing anxiety that had so paralyzed him. He closed his eyes as the adrenaline his anxiety had built up ebbed away, leaving him oddly drained and colder than ever. He was so out of it that he barely seemed to acknowledge that his head flopped down onto her shoulder. 

“Orion?” said Carewyn, startled and worried. 

But Orion merely inhaled and exhaled slowly. Her caring fed that beast in his chest. He wanted a bit more. 

“Carewyn,” he murmured, “did...did you think of me?”

He felt Carewyn adjust her arm around him. 

“Of course I did,” she said softly. “I told you I would never forget you.”

The tenseness in Orion’s clasped hands and face loosened its grasp. “...Because you love me.”

Carewyn looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “What?”

But Orion barely reacted -- as if he didn’t think what he’d said was the least bit weird. 

“There’s only one thing that can prevent someone from forgetting...and that’s love. For once you love someone, your heart never really forgets them. Instead they become part of you...an indispensable piece...that would make you feel incomplete, if it was ever removed.”

Orion slowly opened his eyes, his lips spreading into a small, rather soft smile that made him look a bit more like his usual self. 

“...It’s what helped you remember your brother and the Weasleys, while you were with me...and your brother remember you, while he was with Hook,” he said. “It’s something I know nothing about...but I know you know it very well.”

Carewyn considered him for a moment, before returning her gaze back to the road. Plenty of people passing by gave her and Orion the side-eye, but she didn’t care. 

“I don’t know if I’d say you know nothing about it,” she said at last. “You remembered me just as much as I remembered you, did you not?”

Orion’s smile faded from his lips as his eyes widened ever-so-slightly. Then his expression slowly relaxed.

“...Perhaps...”

His black eyes trailed over her arm around his shoulders and her hand rubbing up and down his arm hesitantly. His arm beside her chest twitched slightly -- then, very, very tentatively, he tried to wrap his arm around her shoulders in return. It was a bit awkward, with the shawl wrapped around him...but once Carewyn sussed out what he was doing, she adjusted enough to give the shawl enough slack that he could successfully hold her in return. Once he had gotten his arm around her, he seemed oddly proud of himself, his smile spreading and his eyes closing again as he leaned into her, his head beside hers on her shoulder. 

They stayed that way for several blocks, walking in silence and simply enjoying each others’ company. Orion felt his center of balance returning to him. It was like having this stable place, with his arms wrapped around Carewyn’s shoulders and hers around his, was the earth he needed under his feet to launch himself back up into the air. He felt like he might even be able to fly again at some point...maybe not yet, but soon. Time always moved more slowly in Neverland than in London anyhow, so no one would mind if he took his time...

“...Carewyn?” 

“Hmm?”

“I...don’t know if I can make it back to Neverland,” he confessed. 

Carewyn looked at him, her eyes once again flooding with concern. 

“I fell, when I failed to open your window,” Orion explained. “I’ve only ever fallen like that once before...when...”

“...When Grandfather made you think unhappy thoughts,” Carewyn finished grimly. She turned away from him, facing the road again. 

Orion nodded. His black eyes flickered across her face, even though she was no longer looking at him. 

Hook had taunted him then that Carewyn had no reason to stay in Neverland -- that she preferred the thought of growing old and dying to staying with him -- that he could never meet her high standards. He’d taunted that one day, Orion would go back to find her window locked and barred -- a grown woman who’s forgotten all about him, about Neverland, about how to fly...who’s replaced all of it with adult things Orion could never understand. Ambition. Family. ...Husband. 

Carewyn wasn’t an adult yet, but she certainly wasn’t a child anymore either. There was a practicality to her posture -- a steadiness and gravity to how she walked. There was a neatness and meticulousness in how she handled her appearance. And yet even so, her hands were still so warm and her eyes were still so soft...and the sincerity in the little wrinkles that creased her brow and eyes and kissed at the corners of her lips was just the same. 

Carewyn raised her head in Orion’s direction, but her eyes couldn’t quite reach his. Instead they landed vaguely on his shoulder. 

“...I never told you...Grandfather was wrong, did I?” she asked quietly. 

Orion tilted his head. “...I suppose it depends on which thing he said that you’re thinking of. You did say you’d never forget me, or Neverland...or how to fly.”

“Yes,” said Carewyn, “but I didn’t say that he was wrong, that you’d never understand ambition or family. That’s definitely not true. Ambition isn’t just an adult thing -- you dream of never growing up, of never losing your freedom or your independence...your spirit. That’s a wonderful ambition. And you have a wonderful family too, in Neverland. The centaurs and mermaids -- Merula and the fairies -- the Lost Kids! You take care of them as if they were your family.”

Orion stared at her for a moment, his face very unreadable, but his black eyes rippling with a strange emotion. Then he curled his fingers into the puffy white sleeve of her shirt. 

“...And...the last thing?” he asked softly. “‘Husband?’”

Carewyn frowned deeply. “Is marriage something you even want to understand?”

“No!” said Orion instantly, looking revolted. “No...but...well...”

He swallowed, his own gaze drifting away. “...If you grow up...you’ll eventually want one, won’t you?”

Carewyn cocked her brows coolly. “It’s possible. But honestly, marriage seems like a bit of a bother. I’ve had to answer to plenty of adults in my life: I’d hate to have to answer to one more by choice. Especially if it means I have to give up Jacob, my friends, and my dreams just to make him comfortable.”

She said this so huffily, and yet it comforted Orion more than he could ever properly express. His own chest seemed to lighten and he felt better able to breathe again. His eyes softened upon Carewyn’s face. 

“...I see.”

The two finally reached the Weasley home again. Orion noticed the house across the street that Carewyn had once pointed out was hers and Jacob’s had been boarded up. 

“It’ll get torn down soon,” said Carewyn, noticing Orion’s gaze. “The family that lived there had their house ransacked, just because they were German...”

Her eyes narrowed. 

“...It’s disgusting, how they were treated,” she added to herself. “They were very nice to Jacob and me, when we first came home...”

“Where is your brother?” asked Orion. 

Carewyn deflated. 

“...The war front,” she said sadly. “He’d been saving up so we could move into our own place, but...well, the army needed soldiers, so both he and Mr. Weasley signed up. Mrs. Weasley let me stay here, so I wouldn’t have to struggle to find a place to stay myself.”

Orion felt something oddly like pity prickling at his chest. “You mean you’ve lost him again, after only just getting him back?”

Carewyn didn’t answer as she opened the door of the Weasley home and bustled him inside. Once the door was closed, she guided him over to the main room and into an armchair, wrapping several more blankets around him. 

“Wait here,” she said. Her lips spread into a fuller smile. “I’ll make you some hot cocoa -- that’s sure to help you fly again.”

Orion felt his heart give a somersault. 

“Do you remember?” he said very quickly, before she could leave the room. “...Do you remember how to fly?”

Carewyn beamed. 

“Of course. All you need is faith and trust, and to have been brushed with fairy dust. Then you think happy, wonderful thoughts, and...”

She spread her arms, and -- amazingly -- her feet actually came up off the ground.

Orion’s black eyes widened. Then his mouth slowly spread into the fullest, brightest smile as he found himself coming up off the ground himself. He floated just below her, spreading both of his arms too so as to take her hands and hold them out on either side of them.

Even when the world was so miserable -- even when she had so much reason to forget...Carewyn still knew how to fly. 

“You’re flying,” said Carewyn with a warm smile. 

Orion’s eyes sparkled as he guided her around in a circle, just as he had when they danced with the fairies. “I found a happy thought.”

“Did you? What is it?”

“A person whose company makes you feel stronger, when you’re at your worst.”

Carewyn smiled. “I believe that’s what’s called a ‘friend,’ Orion Amari.”

Orion’s midnight-black eyes gleamed.

Yes. A friend. Not just someone to go on adventures with, or look after, or play make-believe with, or give direction -- but someone to be your shoulder to lean on. To listen, to comfort...to love. That was a friend. As much as he cherished the Lost Kids, he was the one who had found them -- they answered to him, seeing him as leader, since there was supposedly no one else who could. 

This friend...he wanted this friend by his side forever. “Forever,” as Carewyn had once reminded him, was an awfully long time -- but he didn’t hesitate in this thought at all. 

And so, not long after, the Boy Who Never Grew Up returned to Neverland. He passed his mantle of leadership onto Lost Boy McNully, said a quick goodbye to all of the members of his Neverland family...and decided to leave for good. Even his short trip back to the Second Star to the Right took up a few weeks, but when he returned to London, his friend was waiting for him. And Orion and Carewyn grew up together, as close of friends as teenagers and later adults as they were as children. Orion grew more than just a fraction of an inch -- he soon towered a good head over Carewyn once more. He even grew a mustache, and a beard too! And yet even with this, it was never beneath his dignity to climb a tree, nor to engage in food fights, nor to read adventure books about pirates, nor to crow like a rooster upon winning a game. No matter how much his other classmates at school would frown, and no matter how much the adults would disdain and scold him, Orion never cared -- and neither did Carewyn, or Bill or Charlie, or any of the other friends he made over the years. 

So you see, even if Orion grew older, he never truly grew up...for all children grow up, except one. And one day -- many, many years down the road from when Orion first made the choice to stay -- he looked at Carewyn and realized that his first and dearest friend had become something even more precious: a friend he wished to love, cherish, and live beside far longer than forever. A friend he would call “lover.” 

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

As It Has Been Said

“As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.” -Anna Sexton

-

Just a little drabble in which you and Jihoon live together and you’re under quarantine.

 -

You were surprised when you found Jihoon sitting in his room, right in front of his window, staring outside the glass pane.

It wasn’t that it was necessarily surprising to see Jihoon- no not when the two of you had lived together for over a year now. It wasn’t even that it was surprising to see him in his room. He spent most of his time there, fiddling away at this and that and sometimes actually playing with a fiddle.

No, what was surprising about him today had to be his state of tranquility. The gentle rise and fall of his shoulders as he stared outside watching as snow flurries fell from the sky. You looked down at your cup of hot chocolate, your plans to sit alone in your room and read suddenly feeling well, lonelier than it had before. It was such a beautiful night.

Cold, snowy, and most importantly quiet.

You guys didn’t often get quiet nights here. No matter what day of the week there was always something to be heard. Neighbors across the hall with friends over, downstairs neighbors loudly singing along to Les Mis. Even when you wandered down stairs to do your laundry, you could hear one of your neighbors cats meowing through the front door.

So, moments like these, were moments that you knew you ought to treasure. Moments that you knew you absolutely couldn’t waste. Moments, that you wanted to spend with Jihoon.

You went back to the kitchen, and set your own mug down. Before you had even thought through your actions you were making another cup of hot chocolate- while you added creamer to yours for added sweetness, you added some dark chocolate cocoa powder to Jihoon’s to make it less so- before returning quietly to Jihoon’s doorway.

You hesitated there for a moment just staring quietly at his figure, shaded in the glow of the lamp post outside of his window. He was humming quietly under his breath, his legs folded neatly beneath his body. You often wondered what was on his mind. You wished you had a way to find out.

There was just so much that you didn’t understand about him. He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part but on occasion when he really let himself go, he could be the most extroverted person in the group.

Most days you thought he hated even stepping foot outside, but then other days he was the one dragging you out of bed at god awful hours in the morning for a last second beach trip with the boys.

He was an enigma, one that you truly didn’t know how to deal with.

You sucked in a breath and clicked the heel of your foot against the wood of his door like a knock.

One that you weren’t sure you really wanted to know how to deal with.

Jihoon turned back to look at you, a blank look settled over his face.

“Hey… Mind if I join you?” You asked, but you didn’t wait for an answer. You wandered into the room, handing him one of the cups. He took it in his hand and smiled at you. A smile that made your entire body relax, as if on contact. Sure, you knew Jihoon but you still worried from time to time that he would find your presence in his life to be redundant and overdone.

As you got closer to him you noticed that unlike your previous observation Jihoon wasn’t alone. Nestled comfortably in his lap was his cat, Goo. A small creature you two had come across at only three months old one day on the side of the road. No collar, no chip, and no major medical issues meant that just a few necessary shots later and the cat was your newest roommate, and both of you were happier for it.

While you had gotten to name Goo to represent that she had completed your little household and made you and Jihoon as close to a family as you guys would get, it was clear the little bugger liked Jihoon the best.

If you couldn’t find her in one of her many cat trees- Jihoon spoiled the tiny thing- you would find her nestled in Jihoon’s lap no matter if he were doing homework, working on a song, or simply playing on his phone. It was honestly adorable how close the two were.

You smiled at the resting cat, wondering briefly if the cat knew exactly how lucky it was to get to lay in his lap like that. You assumed Goo probably did. You told her all the time when Jihoon wasn’t around that she was lucky for all the attention that she got from him. And sometimes you swore that the little kitten would sway it’s head in that of a nod to agree with what you were saying.

You figured your heart would melt if Jihoon actually gave you that kind of attention. So maybe it was a good thing he didn’t.

“What are you up to?” You asked him quietly as you silently lowered yourself to the ground next to him. He didn’t shift at your sudden presence there. It almost seemed he had anticipated- no was used to it before you had even sat down. No, instead of acknowledging your presence, he acknowledged your words with a small shrug.

“Watching it snow,” he replied. “Thinking.”

You turned your attention to the snow yourself, watching the white flakes fluttering through the air. It may be snowing, but it was still April. As soon as the fluffy flurries hit the ground, they melted away, turning the cement darker than it normally appeared.

The sky was dark- well darker than it should’ve been even late at night like this. The clouds hid the starlight from view, and even the moons’ dull light was absent on nights like tonight. The only light was that of the streetlights outside the window.

You leaned forward and pressed your hand to the window, feeling the cold of the outdoors on your hand. When you pulled your fingers off of the glass, the foggy outline of your hand could still be seen imprinted there. It made you sigh softly in content.

You were feeling somewhat nostalgic all of sudden. Sitting there next to Jihoon. You guys had been stuck in this apartment together for so long you hadn’t really thought it was possible to feel nostalgic, or to miss him or any of the sort. Afterall you saw him every day. You both took turns cooking for one another- always ate every meal together. There was no reason for you to be missing him.

He had never left. And yet, still, you sat there, and you felt him sitting there just inches from and… You missed him.

You glanced over at him, surprised to find that he was staring at you. You jumped just a little bit, which made him crack a smile.

“What? Did I startle you?” He teased lightly. You rolled your eyes and leaned back on the hand that wasn’t holding hot chocolate.

“Just a little,” you murmured. “But that’s nothing to tease me over, you’re a scary guy Lee Jihoon.”

Jihoon chuckled softly and shook his head in amusement at your words, looking back out the window.

“I can imagine, absolutely terrifying,” he agreed.

You two returned to silence, just watching the snow outside before suddenly a thought occurred to you. You turned back to the side and stared at Jihoon as he peered out the window. He had set his drink down at this point and was carefully running his fingers through the fur of Goo, the tiny cat vibrating innocently in his lap.

“What…” You trailed off, wondering why you were once again turning his attention back to you. “What were you thinking about? When you looked at me.”

Jihoon stared at you for a moment, his chest slowly rising and falling as he considered his next words. Finally, he looked away from you, his eyes settling on the scene outside once again.

“Just… Wondering,” he replied. You didn’t look away from him, you just continued to stare at him.

“Wondering?” You asked. He nodded.

“Wondering what it would be like, if we stayed like this forever,” he replied.

You were caught off guard by that. Of all the things you had been expecting him to say… That was certainly the last.

“Hmm?” You hummed back, certain that you had heard him wrong.

Instead of just saying something Jihoon started to sing softly. You knew he liked music, but there were rare times in which he shared that music with you. You knew that he sang sometimes online so you weren’t really sure why he never let you hear him sing, but either way you treasured those moments eternally.

“If we stayed like this forever. You here by my side. Would you still do the small things, that I adore till the day we both die? Bring me a cup, and sit down on the floor. The vibrations of my heart beating right here next to yours.

If you stayed here by my side, I promise to remain good. The one you’ve grown to appreciate, the on you’ve grown to know.

If you stayed here by my side, I promise you’ll never hurt. I could hold your hand forever, and you’ll always feel at home.

Here by my side, I love you right here, by my side.”

It was short, but it was sweet, and his voice was so smooth, like honey that it just about took your breath away.

“Jihoon when did you come up with that?” You asked him in awe. He risked a glance at you, his cheeks red.

“Just now,” he whispered. “What do you think? Any good?”

“I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” you murmured in awe. He rolled his eyes, finally turning to look at you.

“It can’t be the most beautiful thing that you’ve ever heard,” he denied. You were immediately shaking your head however, reaching out towards him. He stared at your hands hovering in the air for a moment before finally taking your hands in his and raising an eyebrow towards you curiously. “What?”

You locked eyes with him seriously, gripping his fingers with yours tightly. You let your most serious expression spread over your lips.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

You wondered if he could read it in your expression, in the way that you were gripping him tightly, that maybe just maybe you weren’t really talking about the song. While it was beautiful, you wanted him to think that maybe in this one moment you were talking about something else.

“Really Jihoon,” you assured.

He exhaled out of his lips sharply and looked away from you. The moment broken. He laughed at your words, brushing them off as easily as they had left your lips.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmured. “You get so serious about things sometimes…”

You huffed and pulled away from him. A pout crossing your lips.

“You’re so mean sometimes,” you mumbled. “Can’t I compliment you, and have you take it seriously for once?”

“How can I take it seriously when you look at me like that?” He asked. “Like your whole world depends on me believing in you.”

“My whole world does depend on you believing in me,” you replied.

Another sentence, something that had a double meaning. You wondered if he would catch on or not.

Once again, he glanced at you, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your words. You hoped he could hear what you were so desperately trying to say.

You are my whole world.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jihoon asked you softly. This time instead of looking away he held your eyes, his gaze becoming just as intense as yours. You opened your mouth to respond but before you could Jihoon added: “We haven’t been spending much time together recently.”

You wondered if you could be hearing him right… If maybe there was something else that he was trying to say.

“You think?” You asked him softly. You scooted a little closer to him, letting your head fall gently onto Jihoon’s shoulder. He hummed and nodded.

“Yeah,” he murmured, and the unspoken follow up to that was heard loud and clear by you.

I miss you.

“Well, how about this,” you said back, turning your head just a little bit so that you could look up at Jihoon. “I stay right here by your side forever?”

“You’re so domestic and cheesy,” Jihoon murmured back, his eyes trained outside at the snow once again, as if he hadn’t been the one implying that was exactly the thing he wanted not long ago.

But that was the thing you liked so much about being in love. When you first started to fall for someone, it had plausible deniability. Maybe, just maybe you didn’t like that person. Maybe just maybe. You were just really appreciating them in your lives.

Then it hit you. It was always something they were doing- for you it had been Jihoon singing to himself in the shower. You had been passing by, entirely innocently, mind you, when you had heard his voice wafting from underneath the crack of the wooden door and you couldn’t help but stop in awe.

He was… Beautiful, he was everything, and like a wave, you had realized suddenly that oh my god, you were completely and utterly and desperately in love with Lee Jihoon.

And then, just like that his essence just… Consumed you. It’s like you couldn’t breathe, or think, or be without reminding yourself that you were completely in love with him.

The way he stood at the stove and asked you how you wanted your eggs that day. The way he looked at his phone while he ate, looking up briefly at you to acknowledge you when you were talking. You loved that smile that crossed his lips when you said something funny. You loved just being near him.

And a love like that. A love pure and true- a love that spun directly from the essence of a human being, rather then from appearance or spoken of rumors. Yeah, love like that it just couldn’t stay quiet, couldn’t keep itself contained.

It came out in all of the ways that you acted, showing itself when you threw a blanket over him when he fell asleep on the couch, and in small moments like this when you brought him cups of hot chocolate when he was in just the perfect mood.

“You’re so domestic and cheesy and I love you so much for it,” he finally said. You felt a smile tug at your lips, and you lowered your eyes down away from his quickly reddening face. You buried your face into his shirt, and barely contained a small giggle.

“I love you too Lee Jihoon.”

[himbowelsh]

Idk how itll work as a group but hh number 6 of the kiss prompts for team leckie? Sorry if this is weird one but clumsy sleepy morning kisses just scream their energy :’)

sha-la-la-la my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy  💋 (accepting!) 

6 .  lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up

it was hard to squeeze everyone in at once, but i did my best!!

Runner and Chuckler are both early risers. This is, quite frankly, unbearable. 

It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if Chuckler knew how to slip out of a bed without shaking it like it deserves its own place on the Richter scale, or if Runner didn’t make enough noise while showering to wake the entire city up. For the late sleepers of their party — that is, the sane folks — it takes genuine willpower to stay in bed past the point when their partners have left.

If Hoosier has willpower when it comes to anything, it’s his beauty sleep.

Leckie has to admire him. The man could sleep through a natural disaster. He has, when Chuckler tripped over Runner’s sneakers and brought the entire bureau down with him. A mirror shattered, Chuckler busted his knee, and the contents of numerous drawers were tossed all over the room... but Hoosier, god love him, didn’t twitch. He just burrowed deeper in his blanket nest, and let everyone else clean up the mess. 

It would be fine to stay in bed this morning if he couldn’t hear Runner and Chuckler bustling around in the kitchen. Their noise has been on the periphery of his awareness for the last hour, a fuzzy chorus cradling him on the threshold of sleep. Only when the smell of waffles begins to drift through the open doorway does he stir... and the longer they lie there, the more he feels like he’s missing out. There’s only so many hours in a morning, and Leckie likes to fit breakfast somewhere in there.

Hoosier’s legs are draped over his own, pinning him down. He sleeps on his stomach in a cocoon of blankets, one arm clutching his pillow tightly; the other is draped over Leckie’s chest, like a dragon guarding his treasure. His breathing is slow and even, pulse strong where Leckie can feel it through his wrist. He’s not dead — appearances can be deceiving — but he’s sure as hell not waking up.

“Bill,” he mutters, squirming in his hold. Nothing. He digs his elbow into Hoosier’s ribcage. “Bill. Breakfast.”

Hoosier doesn’t answer. He grunts, which is something — a great, rumbling grunt, like trying to wake a sleeping giant. Leckie sighs and drapes his free arm over his back.

“Come on, Bill.” Shaking him doesn't do anything. Neither does slapping his cheek, tugging at his hair, or trying to tickle him. The tickling wins him a very lucid, “Fuck off,” but that’s the only response Hoosier’s willing to give.

“I have to piss,” Leckie protests.

“Ain’t one of my kinks,” Hoosier replies.

“Can’t you smell breakfast?”

On a good morning, if anything’s guaranteed to get Hoosier out of bed, it’s food. Today must not be a good morning — or Hoosier just has more important things on his mind, like Leckie’s body heat and the lingering haze of sleep.

Defeated, Leckie slumps back against the pillows. There are few options available to him. None, really, unless he wants to slowly slide out from Hoosier’s death grip and flop over the side of the bed like a fish. That’s presuming Hoosier doesn’t go full squid on him… which has been known to happen when he doesn’t get his way. Leckie is well-versed in Hoosier's sleeping habits; he knows his clinginess as well as Chuckler’s rumbling snores, or how Runner mutters in his sleep. 

If he’s being honest with himself for once, he loves these lazy mornings.

He loves Chuckler’s cooking more.

“Waffles. I’m sure that’s waffles.” 

Hoosier just grunts, pulling him closer. Leckie’s air supply is momentarily cut off, until Hoosier nestles into his chest and loosens his hold once again. Suddenly, Leckie’s even more trapped; there’s a messy blonde head against his collar, and Hoosier’s deep exhale heating his neck. It’s like being seduced by a sloth with morning breath.

Out of options, Leckie turns to his only recourse. Leaning up, he presses a kiss to the crown of Hoosier’s golden head. When this fails to win a response, he goes even further — tracing his hairline with light kisses, peppering his brow, all the way to his ear. This is Hoosier’s one weak point, as they’ve all learned from experience. He grunts, twisting just enough to shield himself… but this leaves half of his face exposed. Leckie wastes no time pressing a kiss to his inviting lips.

“Hmm. Cheating,” Hoosier mutters against him, voice still heavy with sleep. “Know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I’m appreciating you.” Leckie pecks his nose. “Is that a crime?”

“Is when you’re tryin’ to get me outta bed.”

“As though that’s possible,” Leckie replies, smirking indulgently… and Hoosier is just beginning to relax, maybe enough to even roll off of him, when their tranquility is shattered. Runner announces his entrance into the room with a loud, “Rise and shine!”, barreling through the open doorway. Behind him comes Chuckler, balancing two plates like the king’s prized juggler.

At once, Hoosier sits up. All it takes is the promise of food, and suddenly he’s wide awake. Leckie expected as much, but still feels conned.

“Aww, guys,” he mutters, pushing himself upright. “You shouldn’t have.”

Runner sets the plates he’s carrying in front of them both before clambering onto the foot of the mattress. Chuckler, well-versed by now at fitting the four of them into one bed, passes Runner one of his plates before settling carefully on the edge with the last one. He pops a strawberry slice in his mouth before offering his boyfriends a proud grin.

“Just felt like something special. Don’t get used to it, yeah?”

Hoosier takes a bite of one of the waffles, laden with powdered sugar, and says very solemnly, “I love you.”

A compliment from Hoosier is like beating God in a tennis match. Chuckler beams.

“Hey, I cut the fruit. Washed ‘em, too.” Runner moves to steal an orange slice off of Leckie’s plate, managing it before Leckie can swat him away. Betrayed, Leckie leans back against the pillows, guarding his breakfast-in-bed zealously. Hoosier nestles up at his side, but Leckie’s too wise to his tricks; even he doesn’t get close enough to steal a bite.

“You had us thinking we were gonna have to kiss you awake,” Chuckler declares.

Leckie arches his eyebrows. “Well, now, that’s still an option.”

“You’ve already got us a meal. Regular gentlemen,” Hoosier chimes.

It seems a shame to disrupt breakfast when they’ve only gotten settled down, but that’s never stopped Runner before. Smirking, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Hoosier’s temple; Leckie’s too far away to reach, but he winks in a way that’s almost just as good. Chuckler steals Leckie’s hand, pulling it to his lips in a brief smooch before going right back to eating.

Overall, mornings in their house can be torrid… but, on ones like these, when all the world is quiet and content, Leckie wouldn't exchange them for the world.

[thestarkerisobvious]

Treasure

This is it.  This will be the last chapter of The Thing That Lives Under The Bed that I will post on Tumblr.  After this, the quest to put it alllll on AO3, where I will publish the conclusion.

Endless thanks to @mrstarksbaby.  He knows why.

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

At 13, Peter made friends with the Thing that Lived Under the Bed.  But things change.  Nothing stays the same (not even  2000 year old demons.)

SEVENTEEN

Chapter 5         Treasure

For two hours he got to dig by himself.  As he did he turned it all over in his mind, digging through everything that Tony had said, sifting through everything he hadn’t said.  

Tom Dylan Post had ordered Tony to kill him.  Tony readily obeyed.  Finding out her brother had, in essence, killed himself, Ada ordered Tony to kill her too… no… she had begged him to do it.  Fell to his feet and clung to him and begged.

And Tony had tricked her.  Tenderly and lovingly.  Put her off until midnight.  Described a spell that required the participation of three family members.  Ada might have even pulled it off despite all that – she probably had dozens of uncles and sisters and “youngest members” she might have tricked into it.  And, hell, if Ada could have found that many family members that were willing to watch her die, it might have been a good idea.  But even in that event, could she have really gotten Nana Justina, the Matriarch of the entire family, to write a prayer for the occasion?

What Tony had said… and what Tony hadn’t said.  

He hadn’t said “No.” 

He hadn’t said “Obviously not, I work for your father.”  

He didn’t deny her.  She was collapsed at his feet, clinging to him and begging him to kill her.  He told her “I can deny you nothing” and then pointed Ada towards multiple family members that certainly would deny her plenty.

And then there was Tomas Post Sr.  Peter knew absolutely nothing about the man, except for one thing.  The man had come to Tony demanding to know where his son was, and instead of saying “He chopped up your daughters’ best friend, I killed him and destroyed the body.  You’re welcome,”  Tony had barely said anything.  He waited patiently for the family to find 3 black animals to create a spell to force him to tell what he was perfectly willing to tell anyone who asked. 

When Peter stopped to rest he sat and looked at the foundation, trying to remember the details of the house he had seen that night.  He knew he had seen it before… and now he remembered where.  Anyone looking for information on the Post family knew about the massive donation of artwork that the Post family had made to various museums in New York City, some of which Peter and his family had been to.  He had seen black and white photos of some of the paintings.  Casa do Sul they were all called.  Tony had called it the South House.

Of course, the South House wasn’t there for the artist colony of the 1920’s to paint.  Had Tony shown it to them, in their dreams, the way he had shown it to Peter? 

* * * 

Naturally Peter wanted to dig up whatever was buried beside the South House by himself.  Whatever was there, Tony had meant it for him.

So, of course, by the time evening came he was digging with 4 other people, with two people waiting at the house for news of the dig and one 12-year old person running messages and supplies back and forth.

Peter had set out with his shovel completely forgetting that the DeSlaughters would arrive for Saturday Morning breakfast-and-cartoons.  They always traveled when PeeWee’s Playhouse was on.  No one liked PeeWee’s Playhouse.  (They usually ate during Kidd Video because no one claimed to like Kid Video either.  Although, secretly, Peter thought Kidd Video himself was incredibly cute.)  So when the trio arrived and Peter wasn’t there, Mike set out to find out why.

When Mike went back to the house to get a second shovel, Matthew got involved.  And when Matthew was sent back to the house to get some rope, Uncle Ben and Mr. DeSlaughter got involved.  Soon Monica was running supplies, and messages, back and forth.  Aunt May and Mrs. DeSlaughter were at the house preparing a large celebratory meal (or perhaps a consolation dinner) for that evening.  Whatever was in the trunk Peter and Mike had discovered, Peter hoped it wasn’t too personal, because he was going to have to find out in front of everybody.  And “split the loot,” at least according to Matthew.

“I don’t think it’s loot,” Peter said repeatedly.  “I think it’s something Tom Dylan Post buried here.  Maybe right after he killed Laura Foster.  Maybe after they burned the house down, the wreckage, what was left of the house, it would have hidden the freshly filled in hole.  So they never noticed.  But I don’t know what he would have buried… certainly not his murder weapon.  He left his knife at the scene of the crime, that’s how they knew it did it.”

“What if it’s his dead body?”  Matthew had asked more than once.

“That’s possible,” Peter assured him.  “I really think that he killed himself, and that the family hid it.  In those days committing suicide was a very big scandal.  And it is a lot easier to hide a dead body than a live one.”

“Wait… we’re looking for a dead body?”  Mike asked.  “What is this, a Stephen King novel?”  

“How would he kill himself… and then bury himself, Mike?”

“His family probably killed him to stop him from killing his brother,” Matthew offered.  “He wanted to kill his brother Abe Sexton because Abe Sexton told everyone Laura Foster was going to marry him only they thought it couldn’t be true because he was only 14…”

“So we’re looking for the dead body of the annoying little brother?”

“No…” Matthew said, rolling his eyes.  Although Peter had said it too.  Peter also knew this story.

“I told you Abe Sexton lived with the sheriff’s son who lost his arm and almost bled to death because the sheriff had pissed off Lavern Post but then Lavern Post healed him anyway and Abe Sexton lived with him for like 50 years until he died, the Sheriff's son died, and then Abe Sexton moved back home to take care of his mom.  Everyone knows that.”

“So… we’re digging up the dead body of some gaywad annoying little brother?”  Mike joked.

Both Peter and Matthew glared at him.

“All the Posts are buried at the Post Graveyard which isn’t even on our property so what are you freaking out about,” Peter said,  “And  we’re digging up whatever Tom Dylan buried before anyone knew to come look for him.

“Know what Matthew?” Peter called out, hoping to ease the tension.  Matthew looked angry and ready to leave.  “We should really write a book about the history of this whole place.  We know more than anybody.

* * * *

Peter and MIke groaned when Mr. DeSlaughter arrived in his pickup truck, which he managed to pull almost up to the shed.  Even Matthew was disappointed.  All three had been excited about getting what they had found out all by themselves.  Mr. DeSlaughter and Uncle Ben had many observations and had several pieces of unwanted advice.

But in the end, some of the advice was good.  They were the ones who looked at the wooden chest at the bottom of the hole and suggested digging a ramp to bring it up.  Attaching ropes to the handles of the chest proved fruitless when the first handle snapped upon contact.  Getting the chest out of the hole in one piece was delicate business.  How it had even held together at all was a mystery.  But the long processes of getting the buried chest out of the ground was making Peter impatient, and finally desperate.  He had no way of explaining to the men around him (and the occasional Monica) why it was the contents of the chest that was more important than the ancient trunk itself. 

At least Peter didn’t have to explain why he had started digging.  Although Uncle Ben raised an eyebrow when Peter mumbled vaguely about his dream, the DeSlaughters only nodded sagely.  The entire DeSlaughter family put a lot of stock in dreams.

It was absolutely going to be evening before they could move the chest up the earthen ramp they had created for the task, but Peter would not be persuaded to leave it till the morning.  They chose to work by the light of the truck headlights.  Matthew and Mike were just as impatient to see the contents of their buried treasure.  Matthew, in particular, was convinced it was actual treasure.  Secretly, Peter had other ideas.

The massive, old fashioned lock on the front of the chest didn’t dissuade them when the trunk was clearly coming apart at the hinges.  Only Uncle Ben mourned the destruction of the possibly-valuable antique box while the other three men wrenched off the lid.  Matthew held his flashlight up to show them what was inside.

The old-fashioned rifle that sat on the top of the folded clothes naturally caught the attention of Mike and Mr. DeSlaughter, who took it to examine by the light of the cab of the truck.  Peter was grateful because that brought the witnesses down to three; himself, Matthew and Uncle Ben.  He assigned Uncle Ben to pull out the clothing, mostly dresses and what might have been billowy white nightgowns, which Ben carefully laid out on the tarp that Monica had delivered that afternoon.  That only left Matthew holding the flashlight, angrily demanding ‘where the gold and diamonds were.’

And the bottom of the chest, under all the clothing, Peter saw it.  The huge leather book.  Beside it sat a smaller black box.  Peter picked it up and shook it.  When the contents rattled, he handed it over to Matthew, who quickly disappeared.  

Peter picked up his own flashlight, his heart hammering, and reached into the bottom of the chest.

He didn’t have long before the others noticed his silence and came back with their own flashlights, demanding to know what he had found.

“It’s… I think it’s…” he said, hastily laying his hand over the seal on the leather cover before Mike could see it.  “I think it’s a diary,” he lied.  The book was handwritten, so he might be believed.  It was full of pictures and strange circles and seals with congruent and concentric triangles,  but girls sketched in their diaries sometimes, didn’t they?  As for the geometric shapes… well… was there a law that said girls couldn’t fill their diaries with geometry?

“It is, it’s a diary,” he said to the men who were crowding around him now.  With the cover open, they couldn’t see the seal.  Five flashlights shone down on the inscription on the first thick page.

“Is that...?”  Matthew was the first to speak.  “… wait does that say…?”

“Yes,” Peter said calmly as the other reacted to the two words written there in a beautiful, practiced script.  It seemed so obvious to him now.

“It’s the diary of Laura Foster.”

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

This is the end of the Tumblr Publication of The Thing That Lives Under The Bed.  

The rest of the book Seventeen will be published on AO3.

Thank you for reading this far.

                                      --WW

[dinoshaur]

OMG SHAAAAAA!!!!! idk how late I am but happy birthdayyy 🥳🥳🥳 I wish you all the best !

shawna!!!!! you’re not late at all hehehe it’s still the day 🥰

thank you bub 💗💗 ilysmmm