#she is generally very quiet and barely meows at all

[swankpalanquin]

i went to an orchestra show with my mom tonight so i was late coming home and my cat was soooo crabby about it

[peaktotheocean]

brothers

summary: Five times Aubry helped out the trainees of Kaer Morhen and one time they wanted to help him. notes: as always, thanks to @inexplicifics for letting us play around in the AW AU sandbox ao3 link here

Aubry knocked politely, only pushing open the door when he heard a groan that sounded like approval. Part of the change in raising the trainees and not just training them meant giving the lads agency over their own rooms. Private spaces for the older boys and strict rules about sharing and thievery for those young ones still sharing rooms and bunk beds.

"How are you feeling?" Aubry asked, quiet as he could manage. He could barely remember being grassed but what he did recall was the agony and just how loud everything was.

A whisper could be a scream, a candle too bright. Spices had made his teeth hurt, and the wool of an old blanket felt as though it was tearing at the skin.

"Tired,” Devlin managed, breathing the word rather than speaking it. He looked small in his new bed rather than in the bottom of his old bunk. His blankets had all moved along with him for a comforting smell but thankfully the stink of many other trainee children didn’t come along with the linens.

"That sounds about right." Aubry sat carefully in the chair next to the bed, shifting the bulky satchel around his chest so it didn’t get squashed. “I brought you a visitor."

He reached into the bag and gently took out a soft and sleeping kitten. One of the litter that he and Devlin had been keeping an eye on before the trials. 

Aubry had hoped the sight of a lovely sweet creature would lift Devlin’s spirits but instead, his scent spiraled. Devlin turned his head away, tilting it just about so he could get further from the cat.

“She won’t remember me,”  Devlin said miserably. He huddled back onto the bed, his smell spiking of pain with each movement. "I smell like a Witcher now." 

Only through decades of training and life did Aubry manage not to flinch at Devlin’s words. He had trained with the young Wolf for a few years now. He knew Devlin was proud to be a Witcher, moreso to be of the Wolf school. But the trials were still hard, getting grassed being the worst of them.

Devlin indeed smelled miserable. But he also smelled of pain, the very same agony that Triss had been trying to soften in the potions to no avail due to the need for them to be so strong. 

Aubry knew that even if he offered a hug, it might not be accepted out of pride. More than that, an embrace might cause even more pain. The trials offered little else so soon after but burning skin and turning breathing into an agonized luxury.

No, a hug would have to be for later then.

"She will," Aubry promised. "She lets me pet her, after all. Witcher smell or not."

Devlin closed his eyes and Aubry would bet good coin it was to hide gathering tears. "You said it took ages."

"All cats are different. And this one comes from a line living in the keep for a few generations now. They’re very brave.” And hopefully used to Witchers, Aubry added to himself.

He didn’t dare let the kitten on the bed for fear of causing Devlin more pain. Instead, Aubry cupped the kitten in his hands and brought the little ball of fluff close to Devlin’s face.

It took a slow minute and Aubry nearly wondered if it would be obvious if he axii’d a kitten but then the little dear unfurled. She looked right at Devlin and meowed as if to say “Hey, last time I saw you, you had a ribbon in hand. Where’s my toy?”

She put a delicate paw on the bed. The mattress barely moved but since no pain seemed to spike from Devlin, Aubry allowed the movement.

"Wow,” Devlin whispered. The kitten padded forward, not a care in the world.

Aubry breathed a sigh of relief. The little menace had done it. He thanked whatever gods were in charge of felines and for Jan, who brought cats into the keep in the first place.

"See, no problem. I'm sure the others will be stopping by to say hello in no time."

But Devlin’s eyes were closed, asleep even with the kitten curled up in the nook between his shoulder and neck. Aubry left the beast there to soothe the Wolf, quietly closing the door behind him. 

  Sometimes silence is more suspicious than noise, Aubry thought to himself. He could smell someone in the empty armory but they were silent. What need would someone have to be quiet in a place where any breath could accidentally set off a hanging rack of swords into a noisy cacophony that Lambert had so delightful bestowed upon them the name ‘murder wind chimes.’

He supposed a trainee overwhelmed by choices should have been his first guess.

"Need anything?" He asked, not bothering to keep his voice quiet. 

Ardal, a Griffin trainee and squire, had already gone through his trials. He could smell Aubry as well as Aubry detected him. He didn’t flinch when he heard Aubry’s voice but his shoulders did rise up just a tick.

"Sorry, sir. I won’t be here much longer.” That wasn’t an answer to Aubry’s question so he waited silently. “The handle cracked," Ardal said sheepishly. He indicted the sword strapped to his back. "I didn't mean to."

"Can’t you just take a new sword?" Aubry asked, quizzical. They certainly had enough of them.   Ardal looked reluctant. He eyed the racks upon racks but didn’t move towards them. “I suppose..."    

"But?" Aubry could do this all day. Few people have ever outlasted his patience.

"Master Vesemir told me to find another one but there's none that match it. I like this sword.” The words came out in a rush.” It's a good weight. I know that doesn't mean much and that swords break but--"

Aubry wordlessly held out his hand. Ardal handed over the sword without question. 

It was an older blade, to be sure. Aubry hadn’t seen the style in decades. Rarer still was the addition of the decorative wooden handle, chiefly for the reason that they could easily crack. And then where would a Witcher be in battle? Fumbling while trying to grip a thin piece of metal probably as Ardal had during training? Unacceptable.

The sword, however…

Aubry flipped it a few times in his hands, masterfully keeping hold even with no handle.

"You're right. It's an exceptional sword. The weight is balanced perfectly." He saw Ardal straighten a bit at the compliment but carefully didn’t smile. "We'll have more like it made just for you. And I'm sure a few others will want matches of their own once the secret gets out."

"Really?"

Aubry smiled at Ardal, whose scent was quickly clearing up. He nodded to the weapon racks. "Use another sword for now and leave this with me.”

"Yes, sir. Thank you!” Ardal’s eyes were bright and Aubry tried not to roll his own. Trainees.

“Just Aubry. You must get it approved by the masters first,” Aubry warned. “There’s a good reason we don’t use wooden handles, as you found out. Your new sword handles will be fitted in a modern tradition.” He let his words and the lines around his eyes soften. “But I don’t think anyone would begrudge you keeping this in your rooms as a token of your training.”

“Thank you, sir. Aubry,” Ardal corrected himself. Aubry supposed it was close enough.

  Aubry hadn’t been trying to spy on Konrad’s work but it was a little hard to get his own tasks accomplished when Konrad’s frustration spiked every five minutes. Coincidentally around the same time that Aubry heard a commotion that sounded awfully like books hitting a table.

The problem was clear the second he appeared behind Konrad.

"You're using...books to hold up other books?” He asked carefully. Konrad had jerryrigged some kind of situation for himself and judging by the poor boy’s hair nearly sticking up straight as he tugged at it, the experiment hadn’t been successful.

"Yes..."

"Hmm..." Aubry stepped closer and smoothed down Konrad’s hair. The little Crane trainee eased at the touch and Aubry hid a smile.

“Consort Jaskier got me a book, you see.” Konrad indicated to a text next to him. The spine said 'Care and Keeping of Libraries.' “And it’s about how to take care of older books. It says that books in a delicate way shouldn’t be open more than 90 degrees.” Konrad made a face and looked at other books on the table that seemed to be in even worse shape. “Some books that we have are so broken that they should be open even less. I was trying to build piles with heavier books so that they’d keep the delicate ones in place as I summarize them.”

“Not going to get a lot done this way.” Aubry tapped on the fallen pile of books.

Konrad’s face fell and Aubry nudged his shoulder. 

“Go head off to other tasks and give me a few hours, all right? I think I have your solution.”

Konrad’s eyes brightened at that “Yes, sir.” He quickly did as ordered, sprinting out the door. Aubry pocketed the rare book to take with him as a test.

It turned out to be less than the afternoon. With an idea in mind and a few scraps from his wood collection able to be reused, Aubry was back in the library to catch Konrad before supper.

He set the contraption on the table, pleased with how it had come out. A simple hinge he had rescued from an old chest and a toothed piece to keep it in place. He would make Konrad a dozen of them if needed and had no doubt the clever trainee would start to modify them himself. 

Aubry wondered if Jaskier could use one for his composing. Perhaps the kitchen servants for their recipe books. Aubry could modify one with straps to hang from the racks just like the pots.

“It’s adjustable.” Aubry shifted. Even after spending time with the trainees, their wide eyed staring got to be a bit much. He would take the awe over fear of older Witchers, but it still took some getting used to. Worth it for the end result and reactions though. “See this piece here? The notch? It will lock the hinge in place for you.”

“Thank you, sir— Aubry. Thank you Aubry,” Konrad stumbled over his words. He hadn’t looked away from the little gift, his mouth open in awe. It quickly turned to a smile though. He darted rather quickly for an ungrassed trainee, and gave Aubry a tight hug around his waist. “Thank you!”

Aubry left the library in a daze, feeling quite like a trainee himself. 

  "A toy?” Aubry repeated Ciri’s words back at her. “A...toy..."

"Well, yeah. He's little,” Ciri told him, very matter of fact. “The littlest trainee we’ve seen in ages. He can't play with swords. And some of the older playthings the schools originally brought when they came to Kaer Morhen are broken. We want to give him something."

“The littlest trainee” is what the small boy had been called in council and school meetings over the past few days. 

No more than two years of age, the boy had been found wandering close to a flooded settlement. With the local orphanage full, the patrol group decided to take him home. It wasn’t as rare to see a giggly child who wasn’t Ciri atop the shoulders of a Witcher nowadays, but it still shocked the keep when it happened, especially since the Witcher had been Clovis. 

The child had fallen asleep soon enough when Jaskier played a soft lullaby on his lute. Granted, he had still been resting atop Clovis’ shoulders and the Witcher moved very slowly for the rest of the evening.

And now the large room filled with bunk beds for trainees also included a crib that Jan had dug out of the servants storage room.

"Right. Of course." Aubry looked at the nameless toddler currently teething on what used to be a wooden toy boat, he was sure of it. “Give me the day."

"Really?" Ciri asked excitedly. “We all pooled some coin together—“

“This isn't something that requires payment, cub,” Aubry told her gently. 

“But Milena says you pay people for work!” Ciri and Devlin were clearly the brains of the operation here, standing at the head of a half dozen trainees, with gold coins in outstretched palms.

“Hmm…” Aubry leaned back and thought of this. “This is my job as an adult in this keep. We have responsibilities to you kids, our trainees. We keep you safe, we prepare you for life, in and outside the keep, yes?”

They nodded at that and he breathed easy before going on. 

“You don’t pay for those teachings or trainings. The clothes and swords on your back, books from our library or food. This is one of those times. It is our responsibility.” Aubry held a hand to his chest and carefully didn’t smile when Ciri and Devlin attempted to copy the gesture. “As your guardians, we give you what you need, at no cost to you. That includes toys for little ones. And anything else someone might need, or want.” Within reason, Aubry didn’t add aloud. He figured if it was a struggle to convince them not to pay him for toys, they were working backwards already. 

"For us too?" Devlin asked quietly. Ciri stayed quiet. The cub was doing well in her awareness of the privileges she had, especially after Jaskier had explained her household budget to her. Aubry wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of coin offered to him came from her. 

"Yes,” Aubry told Devlin seriously. “I played with some of these same toys and that was decades ago. There’s no reason we cannot replace what’s been broken.” He winked at them. “And come up with a few new things while we’re at it.”

That was how Aubry found himself working with every school in the keep to come up with suitable enrichment for the youngest trainee as well as some of the older ones. Aubry couldn’t remember the last time his heart was so full as when carrying a large chest full of toys to the trainee rooms.

"Whoa." Konrad held up a complicated piece of wood. He had it cupped in two hands as if worried he’d break the complex twists. 

“Ah, you can thank your brothers for that, young Crane. I asked to copy some of their puzzles and they gave me some that the other Bears had already solved.”

“They made this?” Konrad’s eyes were starry with admiration and the other boys gathered around him. 

Devlin took a little stuffed manticore out of the chest. The wings were stiff but bendable. Lady Milena’s talented seamstress skills shining through in the design and make of the plush toy. Devlin handed it to the littlest trainee, whose wide toothy smile made an immediate appearance. Sure, he immediately started chewing on one of the wings but Milena had assured Aubry that the stitching would keep. 

That broke the seal and soon enough, all the boys were at the chest, taking everything out one by one. Chatter and excitement filled the space like never before. 

Aubry quietly backed out of the room, smiling as he went.

  Kaer Morhen Hide & Seek™ was a time-honored and menace of a tradition that everyone took part in. Truly, everyone.

“It’s a training exercise,” Eskel had insisted to Jaskier. Their newly minted consort had just snorted and replied, “It’s Hide & Seek for bored Witchers who are itching to get out on patrol.”

It had, at least, started out as a training exercise for the newly grassed trainees so they could get a handle on their senses. The younger trainees would learn how to hide and keep quiet while the older ones…caused trouble and had as much fun as possible. 

Adult Cats in the rafters, Cranes holding their breathe underneath the water in the hot springs, and one memorable time, Geralt, the White Wolf himself, hiding in a one of the kitchen's largest ovens.

Instead of hiding this year, Aubry wandered around the keep to make sure they weren’t missing anything. No lost trainees or napping youngsters forgotten in a tree [again]. He just had this feeling that he couldn’t shake.

The joy from the younger trainees was overwhelming in a positive way but just on the edge of his senses, Aubry could taste fresh nerves. 

They weren’t on a battlefield, their Warlord was safe, but then Aubry realized the source of the anxiety.

Mathe, a medallioned Bear trainee, had been trying to smile at the boy he had caught, but it was tight. The little Cat was giggling upside-down as Mathe held him by the ankles, unaware that anything might have been wrong. Zenon, a Manticore beside him, didn’t look any better.

“First official patrol tomorrow?” Aubry asked casually.

Mathe straightened up, letting a young Cat trainee slide down his body and scamper off. Zenon spoke before him. “Yes, both of us.”

Aubry remembered going out on the Path for the first time. He had wished he had a group with him. Still, he didn't tell the boys how lucky they were. Fear was still fear and it would do nothing to belittle their emotions. 

“You’re both going to do well. You have trained your best and are prides of the keep. More than that, you’ll have your brothers with you. Witchers do not walk alone anymore.” Aubry thought of Jaskier’s trick and tried his best to smell proud and supportive. “And they will be excited to welcome you back when you return,” he added gently, nodding towards the mess of exhausted little trainees around the hall. 

  Yennefer had asked and Aubry had offered, it was that simple. The valleys nearest to Kaer Morhen held an ample amount of the herb she needed and Aubry thought it would be a nice idea to offer the expedition to a trainee or two. 

He just hadn’t expected the overwhelming enthusiasm for the muddy job.

Jaskier hid a laugh behind his hand as a good number of trainees scrambled towards Aubry, their hands all raised. 

"Oh. You...all want to come?" Aubry asked, startled at the reactions. "I might need some back up." He looked towards Aiden and Lambert, both wide eyed behind Jaskier.

“That would be lovely!” Jaskier clapped his hands together. “We’ll make an afternoon of it and ask the kitchen for some packed lunches. How does that sound?” The trainees’ excited chatter increased and Aubry found himself surrounded on all sides by children.

“Yes, we’ll come,” Aiden added quickly, nudging Lambert who nodded but didn’t look sure as to what he was agreeing to. 

Four hours later and back in his rooms, Aubry could sympathize, not entirely understanding how the day got away from him. 

“Aubry, patron saint of trainees.” Jaskier’s voice was sweet and dangerously, it sounded as though he was already composing a song of the subject matter.

“Hush. Did you do this?” Aubry asked. 

He had wanted to ask all afternoon but they had been surrounded by children the whole time. Not to mention Aiden and Lambert. Aubry liked them well enough but sometimes the two of them together had the combined maturity of an eight year trainee. 

Even with the afternoon a success, baskets of post-rain herbs gathered for their sorceresses, Aubry never took a step without at least two trainees beside him. 

Jaskier shrugged. “I merely told the truth when the little ones asked for my opinion.”

Aubry looked with wonder at his room. He was sure that they had dropped off the majority of children back at their bunks but there were six extra heartbeats left. 

There were three trainees piled in a ball on the bed, fast asleep in their little muddy pile. Two more claimed spots by the warmth hearth, underneath Aubry's favorite quilt, and the last, well, Aubry could hear him snoring inside the wardrobe. 

The littlest trainee didn't like open spaces. Or beds, yet. They were all working on it. But if he was okay sleeping in Aubry's wardrobe, then Aubry was fine to wear the same clothes two days in a row, or wait to change after breakfast. 

“The older ones asked why the training had changed," Jaskier whispered, fingers tapping at his thigh. "The little ones asked about you. I told them that I could attest that you are a very good big brother.”

"Jaskier..." Aubry wouldn’t cry, he couldn’t anymore. And truthfully, he never felt like he wanted to until now.

"You know that I'm telling the truth,” Jaskier said gently, brushing Aubry’s hair behind his ear. “Come now, I’ll help you shift a few over so you can sleep in your own bed. Can’t say you won’t wake up to teenage barnacles though. Cub manages to spread herself on top of all three of us on some of her rare rougher nights.”

“Leave them there, actually.” Aubry looked towards the wardrobe. “I have a better plan.”

The littlest trainee stirred when Aubry opened the door to the wardrobe. He tensed but allowed Aubry to lift him up out of the clothes nest he had made for himself out of Aubry’s pants and socks.

“You are with me and your brothers. No one will harm you," Aubry swore to him. "Try for one night?” Aubry asked of the boy. There was not an audible answer but he did snuggle deeper into Aubry’s arms. The puppy pile on the bed split to welcome him and then tightened ranks once more to protect their brother. 

Aubry heard the door to the bedroom creak but mercifully, none of the boys were roused. Jaskier greeted the wolves at the entrance with a kiss each.

Geralt didn’t even bat an eye at the state of Aubry’s rooms. Eskel squinted, as though he wasn’t sure if he believed what he was seeing. Noticing Jaskier’s beam, Aubry’s tired happy smell, and six young content heartbeats, he let it be. 

Jaskier came back over to Aubry’s bed to say goodnight. He brushed a kiss over the toddler’s head and then did the same to Aubry.

“See, I told you. Exceptional big brother instincts.” 

[xdandelionxbloomx]

a lion sleeps (not in a jungle, but in a crib)

1.7k of softness, They Were Roommates! AU, general audiences - also on AO3

Ciri was crying. 

Ciri was crying and Geralt didn’t know what to do. 

Ciri was crying and Geralt didn’t know what to do and it was killing him. 

He’d tried everything - changing her diaper, giving her that ratty little lion cub stuffy, he’d even tried to feed her but she hadn’t wanted it. 

Geralt was very near the end of his rope. 

Jaskier arrived home to the mess - Geralt absolutely frazzled and close to tears himself, Ciri wailing on his lap as he sat slumped on the couch. 

His roommate’s eyes went soft in that way Geralt had come to hate for how it made all his organs do strange things in his chest. 

“Oh, Geralt. Come on.” Jaskier picked his way across the apartment, avoiding some of Ciri’s toys - being a sudden single father hadn’t been easy on Geralt and he was doing his best alright? 

Jaskier, with his guitar case still slung over his back, gently scooped Ciri out of his hands. He lifted her and Ciri momentarily stopped crying at the sight of him, reaching a pudgy little hand out to touch his cheek. She reeled it back after only a second, though, and turned it to a tiny fist that smacked with considerable force against Jaskier’s jaw. He barely even showed his grimace, still smiling at her as he cooed. 

“Someone’s grumpy.” Jaskier murmured, and Geralt had a violent flashback to a few months prior - to when he’d gotten absolutely smashed and Jaskier had come to wake him up the day after, all soft and haloed by sunlight, hair gone gold. 

Geralt lifted a hand to drag it down his face. 

“I don’t know what she wants.” He rumbled, exhausted. 

Jaskier shot him a small smile, something sad buried in it - he’d worn it before, an expression linked to things Geralt didn’t fully know. 

He had never asked, never wanted that sadness to be so overwhelming that Jaskier couldn’t bear it. 

“Sometimes we just need to cry, my dear.” Jaskier said, easily, and shifted Ciri to one arm, offering his freed hand up. 

Geralt took it, letting him pull him to his feet and grabbing the lion stuffed animal as an afterthought. 

Together they walked to Geralt’s bedroom where Ciri’s crib was set up across the room from his bed. It had been painstakingly made by hand by Eskel, who would have adopted Ciri if Geralt hadn’t been first in line as her godfather. 

“It helps, however-” Jaskier spoke again as he let go of Geralt’s hand - Geralt giving a small jolt as he realized they’d held hands all the way into the bedroom. “To have music. Always.” Jaskier half said it to Ciri alone as he lowered her into the crib. Geralt watched how she squirmed, fighting him until she could stand in the crib, teary eyes peering over the edge as her hands curled around the railing. 

Jaskier walked over to the bed and perched himself on the edge, ignoring her as she wailed even louder, making Geralt flinch. 

“Come.” Jaskier said, over the crying, patting the space beside him. Geralt reluctantly joined him, sitting down beside his roommate on his bed, hands clenched around the lion cub white knuckle, one the verge of tears again himself. 

Jaskier, the calmest of the three of them bless the man, simply brought his guitar case around to take the instrument out, plucking a few strings and tuning by ear. As if he even really needed to. 

He looked up, meeting Ciri’s eyes over the edge of the crib. “Sweetheart.” Jaskier kept repeating it until she sucked in a ragged breath, wailing quieted to sniffles as Jaskier plucked out a soft melody that made the knot between Geralt’s shoulders slowly start to loosen. 

Geralt breathed. 

Jaskier began to sing in the quiet, his voice a bit higher and softer than usual. 

“Meow-meow meow-meow meow meow…” It was a soft thing and Geralt blinked. He turned his gaze down to the lion cub in his hands and then back to Jaskier in surprise. Blue met his own hazel and they smiled softly, even though Jaskier’s mouth was occupied. 

“I am just a kitten, hardly fit my mittens…” Jaskier’s gaze drifted back to Ciri, who was now firmly focused on the two of them, crying dying out into little snuffles, her nose stopped up from her fit. A little gurgle as she swayed where she was standing. 

“Much too small, I figure-” Jaskier tipped his head at her, a lock of chestnut hair falling into his face. Geralt’s fingers itched to reach out and brush it away. He watched Jaskier’s profile in the dim yellow light of the lamp he’d left on - Geralt knew it wasn’t exactly platonic to want to touch his fingers to the curve of Jaskier’s nose, to trace  it down to the bow of his lips. 

“One day I'll be bigger, one day I'll be a great big kitty cat - Use open windows to go from flat to flat…” 

Ciri’s hands slipped from the railing and she landed on her rear with a soft thump. She sniffed and blinked bleary eyes at Jaskier. After a long moment Geralt stood to cross the room. He brushed his fingers over the top of her head gently, feeling the wispy blonde strands soft under his work worn hands. He didn’t think these hands were the ones she deserved, but they were the ones she had and so Geralt had to be good. For her. He moved to place the lion cub stuffy in her small - so small - arms, watching her immediately bring it close and latch her mouth onto the ear. She chewed on it, looking at Jaskier all the while, barely even sparing him a glance. 

“I am just a kitten, hardly fit my mittens… Much too small, I figure.” Jaskier sang and Geralt turned to watch him, the way he swayed back and forth on the bed and watched Ciri right back. 

It was a lot like peace. 

Geralt wanted to bottle this moment - like the little ships frozen meticulously in time, waves suspended in motion. He wanted to be able to look at this any time he wanted. He wanted to be able to - 

“One day I'll be bigger, one day I’ll be all grown up and strong - But ‘til then I'll just purr and sing along.” Jaskier cooed and Geralt turned his gaze back to Ciri, who had laid back on her back, watching him drowsily through the bars of the crib. The lion was tucked close to her chest and Geralt’s heart ached. 

He loved her. 

He loved her probably more than anything else in the world. 

It was not something Geralt had ever anticipated. 

Then again, he’d never anticipated Jaskier either. 

Geralt turned to make his way back to the bed, settling himself down beside Jaskier, watching talented fingers slow dance over the strings, plucking the sweet melody long after Jaskier had stopped singing, humming instead. 

Geralt dropped his head down to rest on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

He could feel Jaskier tense, heard the twang of a string, surprised fingers slipping. Geralt didn’t bother to say anything for a few moments and Jaskier’s fingers resumed the same soft melody. 

Geralt closed his eyes. 

“It’s funny. I think she likes you better than me.” He whispered, at last. A soft shudder beneath his cheek told him that Jaskier had laughed one of those quiet ones, lips pulled into a crooked smile. 

“No.” Jaskier whispered right back, shifting to adjust to Geralt’s weight against his side. He crossed his arms over the guitar, finally ceasing his playing and Geralt, with his heart in his throat moved to slide his arm around his waist. 

“No, I may distract her from whatever upset her, but when she’s hungry she turns to you. When she falls, her eyes find you first. Given the choice between the two of us, I’m sure she’d ask you to pick her up.” Jaskier’s voice stayed hushed as he turned his head to press his nose to Geralt’s hair - half fallen out of the hectic bun he’d thrown it up into earlier. 

Geralt wanted to keep this moment forever. 

“I’m trying so hard, Jask, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” He admitted and Jaskier’s shoulder shuddered under  him again, though he heard the laugh this time. 

“Does anyone? Really?” Jaskier asked, and there was a press of lips to his temple. “You’re trying your best and that’s all you can do. Ever.” The shoulder under his cheek lifted and Geralt made a soft noise of complaint, though he lifted his head and opened his eyes. 

Jaskier was-- looking at him. 

Really looking. 

Like he could see right through to Geralt’s heart, where he kept all the things he cared about held tightly, as if he could shelter them from the world by not talking about them. 

Jaskier’s hands blindly leaned the guitar up against the bed like he’d donen it a thousand times - probably had - and one reached after, to brush Geralt’s hair back from his face. He tucked it behind Geralt’s ear in a gesture that shouldn’t feel so intimate and tender, but did. 

Geralt blinked, lowered his gaze to the collar of Jaskier’s shirt - where, as usual, the first three buttons were undone. 

He’d had thoughts about that before, but in that moment all he wanted to do was bury his face against warm skin, breathe in the smell of Jaskier’s honeysuckle perfume. 

“It’ll be alright, Geralt.” Jaskier murmured and, to Geralt’s surprise, he believed him. 

A trembling sigh through his nose and Geralt lifted his gaze to meet Jaskier’s. 

Ciri snored softly, disturbing the quiet, and Geralt smiled, shaking his head. He looked away from Jaskier for a moment, at the far wall above the crib. 

His brows furrowed and a touch between them smoothed out the expression, Geralt’s gaze back on Jaskier, on the way the edges of his hair went gold. 

Geralt didn’t believe in God or Heaven or Hell - but there were moments like these where he wondered if Jaskier were an angel. 

Kindness, goodness, an overwhelming brightness given human form for minds to process. 

Geralt lifted his hand, catching Jaskier’s in his own. 

It was to the soundtrack of Ciri’s soft snoring that Geralt kissed Jaskier for the first time - slow and delicate, trying to hold the moment as one might hold a butterfly-- 

Trying his very best not to break quivering wings, heart poised to fly away, carried by a breeze, lazily drifting towards honeysuckles that it could not resist. 

[thejosh1980]

Little Wing

(Trigger warning: animal/pet death)

Today, right now, I am sat at the spot where Mijo felt his last sunrise, just 24 hours ago.

He was 28 weeks old, he spent 20 of those weeks with me, and my family. He was my family. He was thrust upon me by my wife and mum, who knew Mijo would be the kind of birthday present I'd want, but could never ask for.

When he arrived he was unexpected. Straight from the car, into my bedroom, onto my lap, what a surprise, it was love at first sight. Those eyes, that tail, that round belly, the fur, I was all in. I had to say goodbye to 4 beautiful pets whom I loved dearly when I left Germany, so then and there I made a quiet, whisper promise to Mijo;

“I'll never ever leave you”...

We began like any other Daddy and cat story, playing, eating, talking to each other. We may have made a few messes on the bed learning to potty train, but I couldn't really fault him, he was perfect. He loved cuddles, got under our feet all the time, talked to us a lot and wanted to be a part of everything happening around the house.

He meowed very loudly too. Sometimes he'd meow from the next room sounding lost and worried. That's when I started to realized something was very different about him. It took about 2 weeks, but then I realized, he was totally deaf!!!! No vacuum cleaner, loud bangs, claps, or door slams could get his attention. When he meowed loudly, it was either because he had to, to feel himself meowing in his head, or he was missing us and could smell us, but not hear us in the next room. I had never had a cat who couldn't hear me call their name, so this was going to be a challenge.

Mijo accepted that challenge...

In a short time I figured out how to clicker train him, using a torch. I love training cats. Most folks think it's impossible, but I've taught cats to fetch, sit and come on command in the past.... So, pretty soon I had him jumping up, over and across chairs and tables on cue. I also learnt a way to “call” him; assuming he could see me, if I knelt down and tapped my leg, he'd come a running. Every time. We had it all figured out.

Grab a harness and a lead, and off we go, walking around the garden. This wasn't a cat, this was a dog. He had very little fear, I mean, he couldn't even hear the birds making a racket or the car driving by or the dog barking next door. He was fixated on me.

I bought him a blow up boat, to use in the pool, to help him get used to floating on water. It was a huge boat for his little size, but he'd hop in, and I'd “treat” him while he got used to the motion. The plan was to build him up to a real boat, or canoe or SUP. I could imagine him walking on water.

He was also great with other cats, so I could take him to visit his cousin and they'd play all day (if we'd let them). He'd come with me to visit other family and then... well, then the real adventures started. Mijo and I could go to the river, the park and the beach. We also went for coffee at the busiest part in the local village, and he took it all in his stride. We took bike rides too, as he sat in a special backpack I had for him. I could hold him while skateboarding or put him on my shoulder as I walked around. He was chill, happy to see and smell his silent world.

When Alex or I came home, and he'd be in the bedroom snoozing or gazing out the window, we could come in, take off our shoes, put our stuff down, maybe run to the loo, then we could snuggle up with him, cause he hadn't heard us arrive. He would just be waiting... He'd just wait for someone to step close enough, blow on his ear, feel a vibration and then he'd meow a big BIG hello, purr and snuggle. He was a no pressure cat... But always ready for hugs and pats.

Besides being deaf, he just didn't seem like any other cat I'd had or even met...

But isn't the way it is with all pets? They're all unique.

He loved Alex. He always had a hard decision between my lap and hers, or sleeping close to one or the other. We had a son to take care of, to love and to enjoy. At the beginning, Alex wasn't sure about having a cat, she'd pretty much always been a dog person, but it didn't take long for Mijo to wrap her around his little paw. She was hooked.

We thought he was going to be grow up to become a big boy. You know, Maine Coon sized 5-6 or maybe 7 kilo. We had high hopes for a dog-like cat, big enough to take on the world. We wanted to show him the world too.

After he had his snip (desexing) in mid March, he wasn't very well, and it really traumatized all of us, we just weren't sure why he took it so badly. He was in a lot of pain, even though the operation itself was quick and really good, with no issues. He would spend the day, in his “bread loaf” position, with his nose to the ground. It was like he was conserving all his energy for when we came home or wanted his attention.

Eventually, after a few weeks he bounced back, back to being his usual self, for a while. He actually lost a lot of fur during this time, most likely due to a reaction to the antibiotics and pain killers. Where his collar and harness were, he lost all his hair. It only took a few days, a bit too quick to realize what was going on, he rarely wore the collar or harness after that. It meant we sometimes lost him in the house without his bell on to tell which room he was in, so I'd be running around turning on and off the lights to get his attention and a meow.

It was our fun game of “Mijo Polo”.

We had noticed he wasn't eating as much, and he wasn't as playful. In fact, all his toys were being ignored, and he rarely chased anything we teased him with. When we took him for playtime with his cousin, he wouldn't last as long play fighting. Something was up, we thought he'd bounce back by now.

Overall, he was a very chilled cat, having just had an operation and now with, ringworm, a tooth problem (one adult tooth was causing him problems and needed to be pulled) maybe that was why he wasn't too interested in food. Surely it wasn't bacteria, an infection or a virus in his blood.

In early May, Mijo developed ringworm, which, by the way, isn't a worm but rather a fungal infection. The vet already had us on anti fungal cream day and night. It's very unusual to get ringworm; it's all around us, but a strong immune system, actually, a decent immune system, would fight off any infection naturally. Cats generally just lick it all off their fur. Humans sometimes get it, from a scratch or a wound. It's in the soil, it's in the air.

When we got the treatment for the ringworm, we also gave him an appetite stimulant, to encourage him to eat, but it made little difference. As nothing changed, we went back to the vet a few days later, and did a hypothyroidism test; the results were borderline.

What could be going on?

At the time of his desexing operation, he was 1.7 kilos, a week later he was down to 1.5 and eventually 1.45 kilo. His body was growing a little, but his muscle and fat wasn't.

We talked to the vet and decided, even though his ringworm was infectious, the tooth had to go, sooner rather than later. It seemed logical that it was his biggest barrier to fulfilling his dietary requirements and his well being. We wanted him fattening up, growing up, and being his usual self again, ASAP. We needed to get him back on track towards good health, enough was enough.

On Monday 17th May I dropped the little guy off at the vet for the day. A check up and a tooth pull.

Before any cat gets an anesthetic, they run a simple blood test to determine if the cat is well enough. During the day we got a call that the operation couldn't happen, and that he'd have to stay in over night or longer, with meds to help him, because his red cell blood count was low. 10%. Most cats need around 40%, if there's any complication with the tooth pull, his blood may not clot.

It's official, he was very unwell.

I was at school when I got the news. I was in shock. Our little boy was that unwell? But he does eat (a little), he does walk on the lead with me, he's eating his treats... was he that unwell?

Suddenly we had to decide on some expensive tests to figure out what was wrong with him. I mean, the red blood cells were being eaten up by the white ones, but why?? We arranged the suggested tests and they kept him in over night.

I was very distraught. How can my little guy be so unwell yet behave well? With that blood count, he shouldn't be able to walk, he should be so lethargic that he can't keep his head up!! He should be in a coma.

All in all, theoretically, he should be dead.

So was it dwarfism, hypothyroidism, mycoplasma??? And and and?? Tests... Blood being taken.. Our boy in the vet over night, alone, worried, scared??? Will he make it through the night? I didn't sleep well...

On Tuesday afternoon the vet let us bring him home. His blood level was down to 9.1%. The idea was that, at least at home he'd have cuddles and love, and that might help his immune system. He was lethargic but not completely terrible. I would need to bring him in on Wednesday for another blood test, to see how he was doing.

On Wednesday, it didn't go well, Mijo had gone from 9 to 8.1% blood level. It was now becoming almost impossible to get any blood out of him. I saw how difficult it was 2 weeks earlier when he had the hypothyroid test, they had to try on both legs and his neck to get a half mil of blood! He was a champ and barely complained. But now, I couldn't imagine the pain he went through with even less blood.

He's been that sick for how long?? Why hadn't we noticed?

We were panicking.

The vet suggested we meet with a mature, more experienced doc, on Thursday. We should be able to figure something out, we had to. Each day = less blood = more chance of...

Well, I am a hopeful guy. I realize, I live on hope. I spent years hoping certain people in my life would change, or love me in a way that I feel some love. I always hope things will change for the better. I don't know why, but it's ingrained in me to feel hopelessness or hope... I think I'm never in the middle... or is that called acceptance? OK, maybe I do feel that too, eventually... But it takes a long long time...

I have videos of Mijo on Thursday 20th, he's cleaning himself in the sun, meowing and purring, happy to see me, walking around the garden with me. Full of life and adventure.

At lunch time, Mijo and I go to the vet. He is his usual cute self, always curious at the vets, and now there's a the new guy he's meeting, what an adventure.

Before he opens the cat box he said something along the lines of “Well, because his blood levels are so low, today is really about deciding if he goes to heaven or not...” I'm not sure, but I know I heard words like “heaven” and “euthanasia” early on in the consultation. Shock was setting in. I barely heard anything else he said, luckily we had Alex on the speaker phone.

Turns out, not only is our little guy deaf, he's an anomaly.

Any cat with 8.1% should be comatose. They should barely be able to walk. They certainly can't pee or poo without help and don't drink or eat much. Mijo came out of his box and sniffed around, was alert and ready to meet the new guy!!

The vet was stumped. He had never seen this before, in over 30 years...

We didn't know he was so sick, because, he was, overall, a well behaved cat. His weight he lost, sure, but he was now at least stable. He was eating, it just took a lot of creativity sometimes to spark his interest (mostly warming up meals and giving him treats).

The vet tried to explain to me, but I'm sure Alex on the phone understood it clearly, that we had very little time, well, no time. We had 3 choices that day. Go to a specialist an hour's drive away, give Mijo steroids and hope he had mycoplasma or Immune mediated hemolytic anemia (IMHA) or, lastly, euthanasia.

Wait???? What does that even mean??

The specialist would give him a blood transfusion, and some special custom drugs which should help him. The vet said it could cost in the 10s of thousands, and may help Mijo for a few weeks, but it's not a solution that we are sure would be long term or not.

Giving Mijo steroids would give him a fighting chance, or not... Basically it could cure or kill him. Because we aren't sure what is the cause of the low blood count, it could be IMHA, mycoplasma or something else, but it's a best educated guess at this rate. If it is the wrong choice, he may die quicker than expected.

Euthanasia, no explanation needed.

We decided on steroids. According to the vet, there was a 50/50 chance it would work. If the cause of the blood cells killing off each other was for or against steroids, we'd know soon enough. Still shocked I tried to understand it all. I'm so grateful Alex was on the line and knows this stuff through experience and study.

The idea of taking Mijo an hour's drive north to the specialist, to a cubicle, a place where we may not be with him 24/7, on the off chance that he wouldn't make it and die alone, we couldn't fathom that.

Mijo took the steroid injection like a champ, he always did injections well. He was given some antibiotics to also help. The vet said, that by Saturday we'll know if it was the right decision. We'd know if he would be getting better...

It was decided that on Monday 24th we'd go back in for a blood test to actually see if the steroids were working (cause apparently one can't really tell with Mijo's behavior, the cheeky monkey).

Mijo and I came home, and well, he ate, he was purring, sitting on my lap. The usual deal. When I went out to get the washing in, he tried to go out too, something we, as parents, have been very protective about. He doesn't go out alone, he doesn't go out without a lead or a bell. He's not an easy cat to find if he runs off, not that he has ever tried. He deaf, he can't hear cars or other dangers out there.

I promised him I'd take him out to that side of the house/garden that afternoon...

So we did, we went out, we sat down, he explored. He was well, good, better, best. He was my boy. He trusted me, I trusted him. I'm always amazed how well he walks by my side, like a dog, with loose leash... Taking my steps as cues when to walk, and when to stop.

We also met the neighbor's dog, which was a first, both were not really interested in each other... But still, Mijo knew there's a lot to live for...

Overnight he went great... Woke up with him on my chest relaxing waiting for me to get up and feed him, luckily I have a wife who had to get up for work at that moment. I remember she sang him a lullaby and held him like a baby. It was really sweet to see how much love they had for each other. Rock-a-bye Mijo...

We wanted to him feel as much love as we could. We felt that, if the steroids and antibiotics were doing their part, and we did ours, there's nothing he can't beat. And he sure felt the love...

I held him while doing some singing exercises, close to my chest. It was something we hadn't done before, and he purred. He'd look up and meow every time I stopped making vibrations. He felt it, I felt it, it was a connection.

We spent a lot of time, reading, relaxing and sitting on laps. Alex and I cuddled him, told him we loved him. He was really fighting. He was eating. He was a little more playful than in recent weeks. He wanted to live. We could feel it...

He went from eating half a packet to 1.5 packets a day, plus dry food. He always wanted treats, and I was always glad to oblige.

By Saturday he was wonder cat! Kneading... Purring... Chasing toys... Eager to hang out...

We'd overcome the problem! He was getting better. There's fight, love and life left in him. He was amazing. If it hadn't been for his ringworm (which was also healing very very well) I'd say he was perfect, especially once he put on another few grams...

We had 4 awesome days, loads of energy and love. He was never alone in the house, and rarely alone in a room. We wanted him to know, to feel, that we loved him so deeply and that all we want was him in our life, for adventures and cuddles.

On Monday morning, his appetite went down... He didn't really eat much...

We all left for the day, work and school. I think we were all worried, but he'd been so good and improved so so much, that we were sure he'd be fine. We have the blood test booked for the afternoon, I'm sure he'll pep up by then. The injection could be wearing off too...

Mijo and I went in to the vet, and his test came back at 14%!!! Damn, that's 6 points!! The vet expected 3 to be a big improvement. In fact, if he had 3 or less, euthanasia may have been the only option... Happy days! He was well. He's going to live! He'll be fine.

We're not out of the woods yet, but we are in the right direction.

All that love we lavished on him, not just in the past days, but the past 4 months. The adventures, the friends he'd made (both human and animal) the smells and sights he'd seen, the vibrations he felt, it was all coming together... He was a fighter with a lot of love to give...

We were over joyed. Really, I couldn't have been happier when I got the results. I gave a “whoop” and threw my fist in the air (I've never done that before in my life!).

We changed to tablet form steroids, as they'll be better long term, keep up the antibiotics and off we go...

But we all know, that often people and animals, when they know they are dying, they give it one last shot. And that was it... We didn't realize until Wednesday, that he wasn't actually going to get better...

Mijo stopped grooming himself, he slowly ate less and less... He became more and more lethargic, he started to sit in the “bread loaf” position with his nose on the ground, as he did after the snip, resting. We thought it was the change in steroids, and as I was at school and the girls at work, we just kept thinking he'd pep up eventually.

When I left for school Wednesday morning, he was alert, but lethargic. When I came home early to check on him, he had really changed again.

His belly was a little bloated, but he had hardly eaten. He had trouble walking, it seemed like it was a mix of muscle degradation/pain and confusion. His meowing changed to a high pitch cry, similar to that of a young kitten. He also stopped eating, he wouldn't even touch any of his tasty treats. He searched for any bit of sun to stand in, but he was looking so uncomfortable, his posture had changed, half sitting, half standing. I was grateful, when I carried him to his water bowl, that he drank a lot. He also went to the toilet, I held his tail so he didn't make a mess on himself.

We spent the afternoon outside, as the sun started to set. He loved the sun, I wanted him to feel warmth... I held him, talked to him. I don't know now many times I asked him to please hold on, please fight and that I loved him. He looked more comfortable in the sun.

I did film us walking around the pool. I am forever grateful for technology, so that I could just put my phone down, touch a button and record a moment. As we walked and talked, oblivious to the camera, I recognized a change in his breathing... I may have missed it previously, but for sure, his breath was becoming more and more labored. Every 3 or 4 breaths, he just had to try harder... His eyes were changing too... But I was sure he could recognize me, the way the vibrations from my chest reached his body and the way I smell. He would react from time to time, shifting or clawing at me.

He often touched my chest with his paw. Reaching out...

Mum and I went to the vet late Wednesday afternoon, the earliest we could. I explained it must be the change of steroids. No, it wasn't. They were the same type, it was just that he wasn't able to fight anymore. We discussed the specialist, called them and made a plan to go in first thing in the morning. I arranged for a friend to come with me, and Thursday morning bright and early, we were going up to get Mijo cured. Transfusion, drugs, you name it, we were going to do it. We had to, we told him we'd make him better.

There and then, Alex and I decided to trade in our honeymoon, you know from the wedding we had 13 months ago and still haven't done the traditional thing of a week or two away somewhere. We decided the money we had aside for that, would go to Mijo's specialist costs, because without Mijo, our honeymoon, whatever and whenever we decide to do it, wouldn't be worth doing, if he wasn't around.

I made a firm plan on how to help him through the night. We would hold him in shifts... All 3 of us... If one showered, the other held him. Dinner time, we shared the responsibility, not that we ate much anyhow. We cuddled, we talked, we purred, I would blow gently on his head... He was feeling love and he was fighting...

Because he hadn't eaten all day, we decided to try feeding him with a syringe, with success. With the tablets we were putting into his stomach, I felt he needed something else down there too... With a small syringe, he took it well, lapping up a tasty liquid treat.

When it was bed time, we put pillows around the bed, incase he fell, because he was very wobbly on his feet. He would cry out at random times, possibly from pain, but I think more from confusion. He sometimes wanted to get away from us, as we know, pets know when it's time and usually disappear, isolate.

We barely slept. I managed about 3 hours... But it was tough.. He wouldn't stay still, and eventually we put him in his little bed, near our bed... Of course he didn't stay there long.

At 4am I heard him crying... I found him under the bed... Alex woke up too... His breathing had changed a lot... Every breath was labored. He wasn't getting enough oxygen.

I laid on my back, and Mijo laid on my chest. This was how it often was, especially when I was reading... We did that until around 7am... Alex taking turns, holding him, talking to him, loving him. Mijo could barely hold himself up, he just laid in our arms... Breathing... His eyes began to glaze over...

We discussed our options, we felt the specialist was now a long shot. We didn't think he'd make the drive, he was near the end. Our little man had little fight left... And we wouldn't forgive ourselves for him dying in a foreign place. There were a lot of tears and back and forwards, including mum coming in for cuddles with the little guy at 5am...

Alex called the emergency vet, and we planned to go in at 8:30... Mijo's time had come...

When the sun comes up, if the blind is open in our bedroom, the sun shines right on through to Alex in bed, Mijo was in her arms, while she drank coffee as the sun rose.

Sometime later I took the little guy out to the pool, where we walked and talked, cuddled and loved, around and around, in the morning sun. I talked to him about all the adventures we had, riding bikes, visiting people, the beach and the river. I spent most of that hour, holding him, looking to his eyes... He gazed up, I just hope he knew it was me. I just knew he felt the vibrations of my words.

We both told him, it was OK to let go now. We were ready. But he kept on fighting for each breath... I think he was just like his Dad, always hopeful..

He last moments at home, where in the chair I'm sat in now. It gets the best light, first thing, even though it's inside the “catio”. Alex had sat down while I was walking outside, I seem to do better when I walk, and I brought him in for cuddles with her in the sun... He was bathed in sunshine, in Alex's arms... It was beautiful...

Actually getting in the car and going to the vet, was tough, but it really hit me when I walked in. I held the little guy, and just burst into middle-aged-man tears and sobbing... If you were there, you'd know I was my mother's son, cause she was sobbing too... I couldn't look anyone in the eye... I didn't understand what was going on, or about to go on...

I think I was in another place...

We went into a consult room, and I just laid the little guy down, not thinking of using the blanket we had... The vet explained the procedure and took him away for his catheter and first injection, some anesthetic? I don't know, but apparently it was the right thing, it helped with his pain.

I couldn't even look Alex or Mum in the eye... I just cried...

I still had hope...

When they came back, Mijo was wrapped in a soft blanket, what a great idea...!! He was quieter, more peaceful... The vet left to give us a moment...

He was still breathing, still fighting... I put my ear to his face, and heard him...

I kept making sure his eye lids closed from time to time. I remember back when Catalina, my little girl in Germany, needed to be anesthetized for a check up. The vet put some put liquid drops in her eyes and made her blink, so her eyes didn't dry out... So for Mijo, I did that every once in a while... I didn't want his eyes to dry up... I wanted him to be able to see me, because laying on that table, he couldn't hear me.

I begged Alex not to bring the vet back in for the final injection... I think I may have screamed something at her... I don't know... I wasn't me... I was trying to hold him in my arms, without moving him... I was trying to give him another chance...

I bawled...

I don't know if I have ever cried like that before... I thought I'd be all cried out... I thought all my tears had already left the building the previous hours and days... But there was more... a lot more... and more to come...

I know that Alex and I held hands over his body... I felt the love... I felt his warmth... his breathing... I know I cried tears onto him, there were tear drops on his lips...

I looked him in the eye as much as I could, but mostly, I cried...

I felt the liquid go into him, I felt it go around my hand into him...

I don't know much about what happened after that... I know I didn't want to leave him, I had promised him I would never do it. I regret not holding him once more... I know that at that moment, I felt the life drain out of me... I felt hope die...

I walked out, not knowing what to do, and flopped down on the grass outside... I never sit on grass, but Mijo liked it...

I managed to drive home...

That was yesterday...

Since then I've tried to rest, tried to come to grips with what has happened, tried to connect with a few friends, I've tried... I'm still trying...

This morning I got up wanting to do some sport, washing, then study and take on the day with confidence... It's a new day, I should take that opportunity to get back into my routine... It took all of 1 minute, from bed to bathroom, to be bawling... Except for the time I manage to calm down enough to type this blog, I've been crying... It's now 10am... I was awake at 6:15...

We are running out of tissues..

I felt so bad this morning, I wanted to plead with Alex not to go to work, because I just can't today. I just can't. We have discussed how she copes in these situations, and I know that's how she copes, by going to work, so I kept my trap shut. I just want her to hug me all day, so I can feel her warmth.

I cried so much on the drive to drop mum off at work this morning, she started crying too, and contemplated not going to work... She wanted to be there for me, but I told her, honestly, I don't think I'd be much company today.

I don't know the grieving process, we haven't learnt that in counseling school yet, but I do know, I'm feeling very lost... I feel very numb...

I can't explain it, and maybe that's why folks can never really explain how they feel after someone close to them, or their pet, has passed. We are just lost.

I also feel that I am grieving for my other losses in my life. It's a bit like, it's a culmination of all the others before him, plus him on top, making me feel pain like I have never experienced before.

Grief is just love, with no place to go... Alex and I talked about that quote last night. I used this quote to help me through leaving my 4 pets in Germany, I know I have to find a new place for my love, but for now, I just can't.

I know I couldn't have gotten through this without the support of my Mum and Alex...

While Mum cries at the drop of a hat, she is solid and thoughtful and loving. Alex is strong and experienced in these matters. She knew what to say, and when, even if I did yell back… Both have a lot of time and patience for me.

I know Alex and Mum feel bad, maybe even guilty, for choosing him. Mijo was a present, to give me joy and love and comfort. And he sure did, in multitudes, to all of us. I would never have gotten a cat back then, I didn't feel Alex or I were ready, we were still working through our issues with our pets in Germany.

Alex and I decided that we want Mijo home with us. He was only on this earth for 6.5 months, we expected him to be with us for 10+ years. Taken too early. Once he's cremated we'll have him in a little urn. He was so small, but if there's a little left over, we will either plant a tree with his ashes or sprinkle him down by the river, the first place he went to that was close to water.

The past day or so, I have shared what happened with some friends, classmates and family, and everyone has been so thoughtful and caring. Thank you, it's really helped to know you're all out there, thinking of the little guy. He would have loved to meet you all.

He was perfection. If someone else had gotten him, realized he was deaf, they may not have given him the adventures and life he had. Mum considers him a rescue cat...

So here I am, in the chair, his last chair in his last moments at home.

I can still smell him on my shirt. When I walk around the house, dazed, I sniff my shirt. He had a wonderful smell. The smell of love and adventure. I hope that smell lasts a life time.

I miss his warmth, his meow, which was damn loud!! I miss, that sometimes he'd get lost around the house... Or he'd lose me, around the house. He was gentle, and only bit me once, by accident, piercing my thumb a little. I miss the fact he had 1 tooth growing forward, directly out, making him a tri-toothed kitten with a protruding top lip! He took on the world without fear. I've never experienced anything like it in a cat. My girl Catalina did sit on my shoulder as I walked down the street in Germany, but Mijo, he let me go skateboarding with him, played guitar with me (he'd chew the strings) and one time, I even vacuumed his tail.

All trust. No fear.

Back when he lost all his hair around his neck and stomach after his snip operation, we were pretty concerned. Funnily enough, it grew back pretty quickly, but it grew back white, not grey. He had a ring around his neck and kind of marks on his back wrapping around to his belly. Alex googled it, and actually found out, cats can often have their hair grow back white after trauma or experiencing extremes of temperature if their hair was cut short or fell out.

About a month ago, I sent my dearest of friends, Sandra, a photo of his regrowth, and she commented looks like “little angel wings”...

Fly on little wing, fly on...

RIP Mijo Angus

12-11-2020 – 27-05-2021

Thanks for reading,

Josh

[snapeaddict]

Small thing for Minvember, day 6: cat

Here we go with another song, @mmad-lover!

Bébé soleil

There are memories that never leave us, memories where everything feels perfect, where the rays of sun, still slightly orange, lazily spread on the dark-red carpet, where the room smells of delicious toasted bread and coffee, where the general atmosphere is so full of peacefulness we know at once this very moment will stay with us for a long time.

Albus was not awake yet. Little Severus had been for an hour, but he had not cried, just magically appeared on top of their bed as Minerva had opened her eyes. He could still barely walk, but apparently, he already had other options. He was a very silent child, the kind who spoke with his eyes and would communicate his feelings with gestures and small noises, but did not scream, and did not attempt to speak yet. She very gently picked him up.

“Good morning dear”, she whispered, careful not to wake her husband. “How did you manage to get here, mmh? Are you cold?”

Severus simply smiled timidly. She wrapped him up in a warm blanket and slowly got up, heading toward the living room. There she lit a fire in the chimney as Severus happily started playing with wooden toys, the first Albus had brought him, and therefore his favourites. It was a bright, quiet Saturday morning and Minerva had this strange feeling being awake was relaxing. She was not aware yet of how much she would miss these moments of tranquillity, but she was enjoying every second of it. Severus was watching her.

“Mum will play with you as soon as she finishes to make breakfast, okay?”

He was very still during the whole process, his big black eyes following each of her movements as she brought bread, butter, various kinds of jams, cocoa and coffee on the table. There also was a large glass of fresh orange juice for him, as she was very careful he was getting enough vitamins. She then knelt next to the boy, observing the little wooden figures in had carefully placed in a circle.

“Do you want to eat now? Or wait for dad to wake up?”

Severus pointed his toys. At the centre of the circle he placed a small black cat and clapped his hands, raising his eyes towards her. She smiled.

“I can be a bigger cat if you want. A real one with very soft fur. Would you like that?”

She knew he would. Each time she transformed into a cat he was extremely enthusiastic and far more grabby than he was with her in her human form. He was so small, it was the first time she did not feel small herself when being a cat – she actually considered she had a better understanding of his feelings in those moments, as the angle at which she observed his face was different. He hugged her, and she purred.

She could not even help it. And being a cat, she was much more playful.

Half an hour later, when Albus finally came down, dressed in a pastel lilac-purple dressing gown, he found the both of them giggling, half lying on the floor, Severus curled up against Minerva’s fur. Sometimes he would very gently pull her tail and she would meow in protest, climbing on top of him and refusing to move; and the small boy laughed again, crawling on the carpet until he was too exhausted to go any further. Then they lied there, breathless and smiling, looking at the ceiling above them and enjoying the warmth of the morning sun on their faces. Albus sat with an amused look on his face, buttering a piece of bread. He would not disturb them.

Severus, very comfortable in the little nest of warmth he had made for himself, happily dozed off.

And Minerva watched his sweet little face with delight, her eyes, no matter if they were those of a human or cat, filled with a mother’s love: there was a small ray of sunshine snuggled up to her heart.

~ Very important to listen to the song linked in the title! Clumsy translation below

I have a Baby Sun in the depths of my nights

That lulls me to sleep and shines

Sweet little face who climbs with soft steps

The staircase of the summer room

I have a Baby Sun in the sky of my life

Who comes as soon as he wakes up in my bed

Telling me (his) dreams and singing songs

Snuggled up against my heart it feels good

A thunderstorm broke out in the night

Small hug in the morning, to start the day well

Small happiness, my heart’s going to burst

At the time when all children have fallen asleep

And my Baby Sun, heart beating in the rain

Came to join me quietly

I told him about the fights of those dark clouds

Tears of fear flowed down his cheeks without ceasing

It is incredible how much he trembled

When they met

The day was up when the storm stopped

Croissants, chestnut cream, toast

The sky was bright for breakfast

There were coffee éclairs (a pun as éclair means lightning in a storm)

Small dip in soap creams and shaving foam

I needed three words to finish a verse

Little happiness, fear is quickly forgotten

Small happiness, my heart is going to burst

Alone with my piano, I searched

I felt him enter on tiptoe

I was in heaven

That’s when he started dancing

His steps were flying on the carpet, he was bursting with life,

He already knew by heart

That lulls me to sleep and shines

That one-hour song and sang it too…

It is a Baby Sun in the depths of my nights

Sweet little face who climbs with soft steps

The staircase of the summer room

- Yves Duteil, Bébé Soleil

[mallowstep]

nursery things

when do queens move into the nursery?

also it is very important to me that kits call their parents by their names

this lost all formatting when i pasted it but i need to sleep in literally three mintues enjoy

gestation

cats have a gestation period of about 2 months. for the sake of cat ease, we'll say they think of it as a full season, but obviously they don't know if they're pregnant until as little as a moon before they give birth. this is not factually what is occuring, it's what they think, because that means kits become apprentices at nine moons, a holy number.

anyway, cats will show at three weeks to an experienced eye. at four weeks, they'll have a bit of morning sickness. by five weeks, they'll be able to feel the kits development. so that's uh, about 5 weeks before they give birth?

i'm really bad at math i'm sorry.

after that, they're going to grow rapidly and become unfit for patrols fairly quickly. i'm trying to construct a timeline for the fourth apprentice and the poppyfrost drama, but if berrynose knew poppyfrost's kits were coming, he probably had a point.

i mean, she didn't have to move into the nursery, that was overzealous, and she had some time before she couldn't serve as a warrior, but pregnant queens are not exactly mobile.

like mate. she's not going anywhere.

queen madness

i've talked about this a lot and i'm kind of rushing to get this out bc i have a midterm tomorrow so i'm going to bed in 15 minutes regardless of whether or not i post/queue something but i don't want to cheat by uploading allegiances for something i wasn't planning on writing allegiances for (plus those always take me forever) and fuck i'm getting to the point

look. i've talked a lot about this and i don't have anything new to say.

queens. they get overprotective.

frankly, squilf refusing to take young kits back to camp and them hiding under her tail is a fucking trope in my fic.

i don't even know how that's possible, and yet.

fading

so there's this cat equivalent of sids (sudden infant death syndrome) where young (feral) kits just kind of...don't live.

it's also pretty similar to what's called "failure to thrive"

anyway all of these things are interesting go look them up (sad tho be forewarned, also re. failure to thrive lots of very unethical decisions.)

but anyway, i've introduced this concept as fading for several reasons.

one, it explains the vanishing kits problem.

two, it explains why so many kits die despite having socialized medicine with around 95-99% cure rates.

three, it's a good folklore thing. like, queens are scared of this. they're anxious about it. especially in leaf-bare. it adds a good bit of filler drama and all that.

four, more cat biology accuracy.

anyway, this is marked by a kit failing to grow properly. there's nothing wrong with them, they just...never "get on board."

i'm not digging it out now but i have a quote somewhere that's basically "well, she's quiet and calm, but she's growing, so i don't think she's going to die in her sleep."

anyway, this is basically my merciful catchall for kit death. sue me, that's one of my lines.

(but wait, i hear you say, didn't you literally write a fic involving neonaticide and neonaticannabalism? i made that word up i can't spell for shit tho. well, yes, however, those are not character kits, they are plot devices, and you know it. so it doesn't cross the line. i didn't give them personalities for a reason.)

so yeah. okay 10 minutes left and two more sections i can do this.

birthdays (birth days)

heh no one fucking cares.

about, like, the human concept of a birth day.

no, so queens will know they're going to kit soon up to a week beforehand. hazy sources, i'm sorry, provide on request.

again i'm rushin.

right anyway so queens are pretty Aware as you will, and so there's plenty of time to prep the nursery. or other location. that's fairly common in green-leaf, but the clan works real hard to avoid it in the other seasons because it's significantly riskier.

but anyway, a separate kitting nest is provided, and because these are near human levels of intelligence, the cats don't have problems figuring shit out. the other kits are cleared out to the elders den for as many as three nights (kitting can take up to 40 hours), and it's usually the queen's wish to spend a night w her mate. (a) because parents and (b) because safety instincts.

(also as an only vaguely unrelated side, i've recommended "the minor fall, the major life" before and i can't say too much now because i don't have 15 minutes to reread the whole thing i read 1k words a minute and type 100 words a minute how do you think i publish so much but there's some funny? i think it's funny stuff where redtail is all "you know it's kind of concerning how willowpelt keeps having children with no clear father")

and uh, yeah. queens usually track their kits birth to the nearest whole or half moon depending on the clan. there's usually a transitional day ceremony and a mid season ceremony, kits are done when the queens decide they're mature, usually erring over six moons, but on occasion, erring under.

as far as i'm concerned, cinder/bracken/thorn/bright situations never happen. i never remember the four of them are littermates because of that.

moving on i have like 1 minute fuck i forgot i need to brush my teeth

kinship terms

i've already started work on a separate piece for this but.

kits call everyone by their name. they might stumble over it, and those become nicknames, the way young kids do, but please remove every instance of a kit calling "mama" and replace it with either a generic meow or their mother's name.

this is important to me. it just doesn't make sense for the clan to do this, imo, because we see no other terms to refer to people, not even a father term. kits canonically call their fathers by their name (skyclan and the stranger.) anyway i'll talk more about this later i'm out of time.

conclusion

love u bye <3

[bandaged-writer]

swan song || dazai

➤ Pairing: PM! Dazai x Contemporary Dancer! Reader

➤ Genre: fluff, romance, angst 

➤ Warnings: mention of minor character death, mentions of suicide, alcohol consumption, innuendos, murder in the form of a nightmare, violence, language, blood, mental breakdown 

➤ Summary: Not even Dazai could predict that a certain calico cat would lead him to his serendipity made of bruised knees and angelic smiles. 

➤ Word count: 10k

➤ Note: This fic is very important to me since it’s partially based on events I went through as a dancer myself; therefore, I’d be really happy to hear what you think of it. Have fun reading. <3

It was rare for Yokohama's streets to be completely empty, especially when the moon illuminated even the darkest alleys and offered to lead the way home for many lost souls. Ever since November arrived and the trees' leaves had already fallen, the temperatures had dropped considerably. Snow began to fall and wrapped the port city in a gentle blanket of white; even in the dark of the night, branches shimmered in the moon's light, streets became as clear as day as the artificial light of street lamps was reflected from the snow's surface. 

For once, it was a tranquil night in which blood didn't stain the innocence of Yokohama. 

Dull footsteps filled the silence as Dazai followed the calico cat - Sensei - out of the bar Lupin. The cat had been pawing at the brunette's pants, meowing at him to finally leave the empty bar and catch some fresh air. Truth be told, Dazai didn't know why he listened to a cat of all creatures which graced the surface of this planet. Maybe it was the tiny voice in his head which wanted him to go home, rest his sore limbs and hopefully find some peace and quiet in the form of sleep. 

"Where are you leading me to, Sensei?" Dazai's tongue still tickled with the taste of whiskey, but his head was very much sober. Chocolate orbs watched how the cat left tiny prints of his paws in the snow and merely meowed at him in response as if telling the mafioso to trust him. Who was Dazai to deny the request of a lucky charm on four legs? "Yeah, yeah, got it." Odd, how the mafia executive found comfort in talking to a cat. 

Dazai's breath came out in white puffs of air which dissolved into nothing, the cold nipped at his cheeks and would hug him like the familiar arms of death if it weren't for the black coat wrapped around his slim form. As much as Dazai craved to die, freezing to death wasn't his favorite way to leave this world; he had standards, after all. 

Streets had long since blurred into one another when Sensei suddenly meowed out loud and pawed at the spinning door made of glass which was rimmed by a golden color. Raising his gaze, Dazai recognized the building immediately. It was an expensive theater which was often rented by the mafia to celebrate the success of bigger missions. Famous actors, singers and even dancers held their performances in the vast venue, but it was nothing but another building at night. 

"Are you sure, buddy?" A small smile decorated Dazai's usually unreadable face, a curious shimmer flashed in his eyes as he heard the soft bass of music being played from within. Another proof that Sensei certainly wasn't an average cat. Intrigued by what - or rather who - was awaiting him, Dazai entered and let a sigh of relief slip his chapped lips, Sensei always right by his side. 

Warmth greeted the mafioso, the red carpet below his feet silenced any sound his shoes could cause and possibly startle whoever was at the very heart of the theater. Cash registers were unoccupied, snack bars were filled with various treats, but they seemed to be untouched as well as the alcohol on display. Everything that was of value was still in place, unscathed. 

Every step Dazai took was in sync with the rhythm which faintly caressed his ears and he found himself enjoying the calm beat. Before the brunette knew it, he stood in the middle of rows upon rows of chairs, the cushions cold and unused as his eyes were focused on the dancer, clad in black, on the wooden stage. Dazai only registered how Sensei leapt on one of the chairs, everything else was unimportant. 

Bare feet floated across the floor from left to right, arms moved gracefully like the stretching wings of a swan. Eyes were closed in concentration as your heels turned to the right and your arms rested across your torso. Your left hand went around your head once, traced the line of your right arm and ended up intertwined with your other hand. Stretching your leg out in front of you, you swiftly kicked the limb to your side and let your torso follow the movement by dipping it low and coming to a standing position. 

The song Dazai didn't know came to an end, your heavy breathing filled the room along with the soft sound of your feet padding along the stage. 

"You know that staring at a woman is rude, don't you?" Your voice was rough around the edges as your lungs grasped for some much needed air. A thin layer of sweat made your face shine in the dim light and a smile settled down on your lips. Ripped out of his mesmerized state, Dazai chuckled at your reaction - he had expected you to yell at him, scream, threaten him, but instead, you called him out. "True beauty even makes a gentleman stare," he said. 

A rosy blush bloomed on your cheeks as you suddenly laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls which were decorated with rich designs and several paintings you couldn't name. "You sure know how to flatter a woman. I'll give you that," you sat down on the edge of the stage, right in front of Dazai and reached for your half empty water bottle. Honestly, you couldn't quite believe the stranger's words; who found a sweating person beautiful? Either way, you didn't bother to ask and simply let him have his fun. The mafioso sat down on one of the many chairs, took off his coat and let Sensei cuddle himself into the fabric. 

"Can you do that again?" 

"Huh?" 

"Dancing. Can you dance once more?" It was an innocent request from Dazai's point of view. He wanted to understand what you danced to, what made your body move and how you moved it. He wanted to understand the story behind it. With a soft gaze, you leaned forward, chin resting on your palm. "In exchange for your name, I will consider dancing, again," the smile on your face was pure, there were no hidden intentions behind your persona, just the innocence of curiosity. You were far from being a threat. "My name is Dazai. Dazai Osamu."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Dazai. I'm [Name] and not someone to deny the audience a wish," grabbing the hem of your black button down shirt, you wiped some sweat off your forehead and made your way to the bluetooth speakers which stood somewhere in the shadows. 

Dazai found himself drawn to the mere way you walked. Yes, he had seen many confident women, especially in the mafia - Kouyou was the best example for that, but no one carried themselves like you. There was an air of elegant confidence surrounding your being like a halo, every step was memorized by your legs, every turn you took was sharp. Dazai had never interacted with a dancer before, but he could tell you were one. An experienced dancer, too. 

His train of thought was interrupted by the soft sound of a plucking instrument being played and he saw the way you fell into a completely different persona. The air around you seemed to change into a melancholic one, your face reflecting emotions he saw daily: fear, anguish, melancholy. Gone was the friendly you. It was replaced by someone who looked like you. 

Naked feet glided across the stage with ease as you seemed to become the beat yourself. Muscles smoothly tensed up to hit a sharp beat and immediately slid into a more relaxed state like it was the only thing you knew how to do, like it was breathing. 

The closer Dazai looked, the more he noticed the calloused parts of your feet and for a moment, he wondered how much it had to hurt, but your face showed no signs of discomfort - if anything, you were at peace, in the middle of your very essence. 

Much like paintings, Dazai didn't quite understand the story behind it, couldn't put together the pieces you showed him. He only finished the edge of the puzzle you performed which gave the mafioso a slight idea of the bigger picture you were trying to show him and maybe if Dazai asked, you would tell him the story behind the dance. For some reason, he sensed that it was an intimate question to which the answer was the moves you generously provided. 

A slow jazz beat filled the empty bar named Lupin at nearly 00:00 o'clock, the faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes lingered pleasantly in the air. Only two seats were occupied at such a late hour; one by Dazai and the other seat was taken by Odasaku, the brunette's best friend. 

"You've been looking at the clock quite a few times now. You still got plans?" Odasaku took a sip of his glass of whiskey with a large ice cube in it. The liquor pleasantly burned his throat and warmed the older man up from within - very welcoming considering the minus temperatures waiting outside of the bar. A single finger traced the edge of Dazai's own glass, his mind occupied with something - no, someone - else. "I can't hide anything from you, can I, Odasaku?" A tranquil smile found home on Dazai's slightly chapped lips. Something about Oda figuring him out like any other person made Dazai feel normal instead of an oh-so-called demonic prodigy with an unmatched intellect. 

The mafia executive rested his cheek on his palm as he recalled the recent events. Sensei leading him to the theater, the soft thumping of a bass caressing his ears and his eyes landing on someone who bloomed on stage like a flower which was about to wither. "I was wondering if she was still up." At that, Odasaku's interest was piqued. It wasn't unusual for his suicidal friend to woo a woman, but it was unusual for him to wonder what his latest encounter was up to. "She?" The man was fairly curious, given that he usually witnessed how Dazai took a pretty lady home, but this time, Oda couldn't recall someone catching his friend's interest. 

"Last night, Sensei lead me to the theater which the boss often rents for celebrations. I thought that maybe Sensei just needed a place to sleep at, but when I got there, I met [Name]." Slowly, Dazai twirled his glass and watched the liquid moving around while Oda was attentively listening. It certainly wasn't a common story to meet someone. "She's a dancer. Ah, what was that style called?" The brunette looked up at the ceiling in thought, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. "Temporary? No, contemporary! She's a contemporary dancer." 

"Let me guess. You want to see her, again." Oda spoke, finished his glass and looked at his dear friend in wonder. He didn't know who you were, probably never even saw your face, but the fact that you somehow managed to charm Dazai was quite a feat. After all, Dazai rarely thought of anything or anyone interesting enough unless it challenged his mind. "I do. But I don't know why." Dazai admitted, his lips pulled into a soft frown as he stared at his still full glass. For some reason, he had lost interest in getting pleasantly buzzed with Odasaku. "There's nothing special about her nor am I interested in dance and yet.." Dazai trailed off for a second and sighed. You confused him, although you were so easy to read and figure out. The blush on your cheeks gave away that you liked having Dazai's attention, you were easy to please. "She's pretty. I guess I enjoy being near her."

If anyone else had told Oda about Dazai's encounter with a dancer, he probably would've thought of it as a joke, but hearing such words from Dazai himself changed the situation. He could tell the younger man meant what he said and wasn't only trying to woo you for as long as you'd please the executive. 

"Well? Is there any more to the story?" 

"I only watched her dance, Odasaku."

"That's it?" 

"That's it." Dazai confirmed with a tender nod of his head, brown locks going with the motion. 

Odasaku looked at the clock - 00:30. For once, he felt like Dazai might see something more in a person than mere profit for one of his plans and he was looking forward to the day that epiphany would reach his friend. Hopefully sooner than later. If someone like Dazai was interested in someone simple like you then you could positively influence the man who had experienced nothing but violence, death and bloodshed for a majority of his life. "You should go, then. It's painfully obvious you want to see her."

"Are you sure?" Dazai asked, eyebrows pulled up in slight surprise. It didn't happen too often that he got to talk to Odasaku so freely without any prying eyes and judgment whispered behind their backs. In this bar, they were only Dazai and Odasaku. Not an executive of the mafia and a mafia member with the possibly lowest rank in the organization. "Why wouldn't I be sure? I can handle going home alone just fine."

There was no point in trying to argue with Odasaku. The man was awfully perceptive and aware of those around him and would probably drag Dazai out of the bar if it was in Oda's nature to do such things. Besides, Odasaku was always correct, right? 

"Then I guess I'll see you around, Odasaku." Dazai wrapped his pitch black coat around his slender form and left with a gentle wave of his bandaged hand. Oda merely made a noise of acknowledgement. 

He knew that one positive influence couldn't fix the trauma that Dazai had gone through, but love made man better, right? Deep down, Odasaku hoped that you would leave some kind of impact on his misguided friend, hoped that at least you could show him a bit of the light Dazai was so severely lacking. 

He hoped that life would be kind to Dazai for once. 

This time, Dazai was greeted by orchestral instruments put over a simple, consistent beat. No vocals accompanied the song, only the repeated words "save me, save me" echoing throughout the very lonely and cold hall. Yet, your mere presence seemed to fill the theater just fine. 

He noticed you wore shoes unlike last night. Your dancing style was also slightly different. It lacked the element of ballet, yet he found himself watching you all the same. 

How you kicked your leg out to the side, wiped your lips and for a moment, it seemed like you were getting ready to run only to pretend to slip. Skillfully, your hands caught your body before you rested on your back, hand reaching up in the air as if begging someone to save you from misery. The notes gently faded into nothing and found their end. 

"And here I thought this was a one time meeting, Dazai." You teased from your position on the ground, rolled your body up into a sitting position and gave the man a teasing yet welcoming smile. A few strands of hair stuck to your face, some stood in weird directions, yet Dazai would still describe you as lovely. Sitting down on the chair he occupied the last time, Dazai returned the friendly teasing. "I like to make sure I see pretty things several times."

Damn smooth talker. Oh, how you'd love to wipe that cocky smirk off Dazai's stupidly handsome face. Damn him for making you blush so easily when his words weren't even that special. "Whatever you say." You dusted off your pants, let a few joints crack and tilted your head to the side as you took in Dazai's form. 

The cold had bitten his cheeks red, a trail of goosebumps between the bandages around his neck and his jawline revealed itself to your eyes, he was shivering ever so slightly despite the coat clinging to his body. You couldn't blame Dazai - it was probably -10 degrees Celsius outside, some snow had frozen and the theater wasn't known to get heated up at night. Truth be told, you had also been shivering when you came in, but then.. 

Suddenly, your eyes widened in curiosity. "You're cold aren't you?" Dazai nodded his head slightly, not quite knowing where you were going with this. Of course, he was cold. What kind of question was that? Going to the very edge of the stage, you offered Dazai your hand and grinned from ear to ear with that silly blush still on your cheeks. "May I ask for this dance, dear sir?" 

Warily, Dazai's gaze flickered from your palm to your face, his reaction hesitant. "Oh, belladonna, you do know that I'm not the dancer here, do you?" He just wasn't the type to dance, wasn't interested in the art either. Dazai only knew a few basic steps that Kouyou taught him years ago, but he barely ever had to use his non-existent dancing skills. "Aw, come on~" A cute pout adorned your lips as you tried persuading the mafia executive with puppy eyes and hopefully arguments that would convince him. "I'll teach you something really easy. I promise it'll be fun!" 

Dramatically, Dazai threw his head back and covered his eyes with his palm, his loud voice easily filling the vast space. "How did you know that your mere beauty was my weakness? Truly, my only weak spot is standing right in front of me! How could I say no to a beautiful lady such as yourself?" At his antics, you couldn't help but roll your eyes, grab Dazai's hands and pull him on the stage with you. You noticed how calloused his hands were and wondered what his profession was since the rest of him seemed nearly dreamy. The more you thought about it, the more you could feel a headache approaching, though. 

"First, off with that coat. You're gonna get warm real quick." Contrary to what your words implied, you took the coat off for Dazai and tossed the article of clothing in a corner where it wouldn't get in the way. Another thing Dazai learned about you was that you were touchy - not that he mined. He loved touchy, pretty ladies. But you..you nearly made his heart skip a beat with how eager you were to dance with him. "I didn't know you were so keen on getting me out of my clothes, belladonna."

Maybe the day you'd smack Dazai's face would come sooner than you thought. "Pfft, you wish, don't you?" Laughing, you shook your head a few times and picked your phone up from the ground to choose a song. What song would suit the situation or even Dazai's persona? He sure liked to joke around, yet his attire told you that he worked in a serious field. "I wouldn't mind~" Dazai spoke in a sing-song voice, hell bent on teasing your for whatever reason. However, it was part of his charm, you concluded for yourself. 

In the end, you settled for a song played by only a piano. The mood was neither too sad nor too upbeat - it was a perfect mix of a tinge of sadness and the beauty of emotional clarity. 

Dazai let you hold one of his hands while the other rested on your back, your free hand placed on his shoulder as you gave him instructions. "Take one step forward. Then I'll follow by taking a step backwards." His foot was quick to be placed between yours, chocolate eyes finding the two pairs of feet rather interesting. Dazai simply didn't want to step on your feet. Yet. "Good. Now one step to the right and a step backwards."

Dazai did as he was told and came back to center with you in his arms, leading him around the stage. Moving like this with the peaceful music in the background and your laughter right in his ear, some sort of warmth started spreading from Dazai's core and filled every fiber of his being with each step he took. Or maybe it was just the happiness swimming in your eyes. "See? It's not that hard. Do it again, but a bit faster." You encouraged the inexperienced brunette, grasping his hand tightly in yours. Dazai, on the other hand, felt oddly vulnerable as you lead him, taught him something he usually never used. It was a skill Dazai didn't possess, yet he found comfort in the fact that it was you taking the lead, dancing him through the steps his body had long since forgotten. 

As time passed, Dazai gained security and picked up the speed until you told him that this was the perfect pace. At some point, your palm slid down his chest, the man's own palm coming to rest in the dip of your waist. Neither of you seemed to notice nor to care. Possibly, Dazai even dared to pull you closer, although he knew he shouldn't. Getting attached was a dangerous game, especially in his case. If Mori was to find out who Dazai found himself gravitating toward, he'd lose you. If the enemy was to know of your existence, he'd lose you. 

Everything he'd never want to lose, would eventually slip through his fingers like water. 

But there you were, in the blood-stained hands of a mafia executive, a content smile on your face and your heart beating in sync with Dazai's. The act of dancing with you was pure, probably the most common and innocent thing he had ever done, yet Dazai felt like it was wrong. 

You were an angel, giving herself to the demon himself. 

Yet, why did it feel so right? 

"See? You're much warmer now." You beamed up at Dazai, eyes closed and he knew that this view would haunt him in his sleep. He should've stayed at the bar with Odasaku, drank a bit and then call it a night, but no, Dazai had to be selfish, greedy even, to come see you again when you were nothing but a stranger. Why the hell did you make him feel welcomed like he belonged right here with you? Dazai wasn't part of your blissfully mundane life and if you knew how many crimes he had committed, you'd let go of him like you had just burned yourself. And maybe, you actually would end up scorching yourself if you kept touching him, being near him. 

"Yeah. It's your hard work though." Despite the emotional conflict raging on in Dazai's heart, he returned the smile you gave him, but it never quite reached his eyes. If you noticed, you didn't bother asking which the brunette was thankful for. How was he supposed to explain something he didn't quite understand himself just yet? "I argue we both worked hard." You gave his hand a squeeze. A gentle reminder that you were indeed there and not anywhere else. 

Eventually, hours blurred into one another and Dazai was back in his seat with you sitting next to him, talking about the one time you thought your toaster was broken, but you only forgot to plug the device into the socket. You were silly and clumsy, too, Dazai learned. 

"Oh, time flies, huh.." You looked at the watch wrapped around your wrist and sighed, the hint of a frown settling down on your face. The time read 4:53 am, the sky was still pitch black - definitely a downside to winter. A groan of annoyance rumbled deep within your chest, your head leaned back and eyes closed shut as you voiced out your frustration. "Why can't time go by a bit slower? I was really enjoying myself, too. Being here with you is better than going home."

"Oh? How so?" Dazai didn't expect you to be so open about your way of living, considering that he had met you not too long ago. But he did hear about some people who overshare personal feelings and issues, so were you a part of those people? Or did your trust already run so deep? "You see, I live on my own and it just gets..very lonely. It's almost depressing when there's no one to greet you, nothing to take care of. Agh, I said too much didn't I?" Maybe this was why your friends sometimes told you to shut up at a certain point. You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, chuckling. "It's okay, don't worry."

But maybe that piece of information was what caused Dazai to offer to walk you home even though you only lived a 8-minute-walk away from the theater. 

Or maybe it was the fact that the sun wouldn't rise until 8 am. 

Whatever reason it was, you felt less lonely when you stepped foot into your home. 

The meetings continued.

Dazai would occasionally pop up during your practice in the dead of night, after a drink with Odasaku or because he was simply straying throughout Yokohama's streets like a lost dog. You had quickly learned of Dazai's suicidal tendencies, even scolded him whenever the brunette enthusiastically told you about a new suicide technique he had read about. Usually, those around Dazai didn't care about that, because it was normal and he would always show up the next day in one piece, overdramatically devastated that he was still very much alive. 

"Why are you so worried about a stranger's life?" Dazai had asked with a teasing tone lingering on the edge of his voice. He didn't expect a serious answer, didn't expect a response which he couldn't decode right off the bat. "Then who would I be dancing for?" A tinge of blue had colored your words; the color of the ocean. Beautiful to look at, but so unbelievably deep that one could drown in them if they weren't careful. It had left Dazai a tad bit confused; apparently, you had danced just fine without him as well, so why were you so worried about something as trivial as an audience now? Nevertheless, he had smiled - it was a gentle one. 

"I'm sure you would find another audience."

"But none of them are you."

He had felt special and maybe it was delusional of him, but the more time Dazai spent with you, the more he wanted you for himself. No one else should hear your laugh for they might ruin the sound. No one else should be on the receiving end of your teasing for they might corrupt you. No one else should see you dance for Dazai liked to pretend that you only moved for him and his selfish eyes. 

But that was wishful thinking. Just like writers needed readers, just like musicians needed listeners, a dancer needed an audience to gain energy from, an audience to perform for. Dazai knew he couldn't remain your only crowd forever. 

The worst of it all that Dazai did get attached to you. Attached to your clumsiness when you tripped on stage and lied that it was part of the choreography. Attached to the way you'd grin from ear to ear once your eyes spotted him sitting in his usual seat. But most of all, he got attached to your kindness. You always offered him something to drink or some of your snacks, offered to distract him from whatever was bothering Dazai some nights.

You offered him some peace and quiet, physically, mentally and emotionally. 

However, the more time Dazai spent with you, the more his premonition proved to be true. 

You ended up haunting his dreams like a ghost and twisted them into nightmares that he often had, but it was even worse now that you had stepped into his life. It was your fault for ruining his already morbid nightmares by popping up in them out of the blue. Each time Dazai dreamed about shooting someone, your hand would hold his wrist to stop him. Each time he dreamed about a new suicide technique, you'd cry out his name in the ugliest way with tears streaming down your cheeks and a painful strain tearing your vocal chords. 

But this night was so much worse.

"Dazai, we need your help in our current interrogation. The prisoner won't spill, no matter what." A buff man in a suit and shades resting on his nose deadpanned. With a sigh, Dazai put both of his hands on his desk and got up from the comfortable chair, silently wondering if his men were capable of fulfilling a simple mission, at all. He didn't know the details, busy with his own case and trying to come up with a new way to finally get rid of this life he never wanted. 

Empty footsteps echoed right through the cold hallways of the mafia, no word was spoken, no breath could be heard. It was a heartless place which had witnessed the deaths of so many souls that it could be the equivalent of a graveyard. The amount of bloodshed was gross, but necessary in order for the mafia to survive. 

As the heavy door made of pure metal opened, Dazai's eyes widened. He would recognize the person anywhere, no matter how big the crowd was. Cautiously, he approached your shaking form and kneeled down in front of your broken body. Deep bruises in various shades ruined your skin, no doubt you were suffering from a couple of broken bones as well. Upon a closer look, Dazai could see that you definitely lost weight as well. 

Dead eyes met his own, the withering shimmer of recognition floated in your orbs before it rotted away. "Please, kill me, Dazai." Your voice was weak, hoarse from the lack of hydration and screams you let out as the men in black tried to get information out of you. "What the hell are you talking about?" Grabbing your shoulders, Dazai put you into a sitting position and let your chin rest on his shoulders. You were broken beyond repair and it was his fault that you got caught in this mess, in his mess.

"Everything hurts. I'm in nothing but pain, anymore. Please, I'm begging you to take my life." Tears streamed down your cheeks at the mere thought of leaving this world behind. Death terrified you, you didn't know if anything was waiting for you on the other side or if your existence would simply vanish like someone had pressed the delete button. "Don't be stupid, I can get you out of here, I can-" Dazai was rambling and it was the first time you saw him lose his composure. "It would be an honor to die by your hands, Osamu."

Somewhere deep down, Dazai knew he couldn't get you out of this alive. The mafia would kill you. You'd seen their faces, knew where these creatures of the night operated from. Too high was the possibility of you running to the government and spilling all that valuable information. 

Too high was the possibility of his men letting you die a painful death when Dazai could give you a fast, painless way out. 

"I'm sorry." Dazai whispered in your ear, his lips tickled the shell of it and you basked in the gentle feeling for a moment. It was a luxury you wouldn't get to experience, again. A wistful smile settled down on your lips, your eyes closed. You were at peace. "It's okay, Osamu. I'll watch over you from the other side. But for now, this is goodbye."

Dazai's hands shook as he placed the muzzle of his gun right against your chest where your heart was peacefully beating. Why did he have to kill the one person he was attached to? One of the very little good things he ever had in life would slip through his fingers, no matter how desperately he'd reach out for you. Dazai took a deep breath - a futile attempt to keep his composure - and pulled the trigger. 

You immediately went limp in his arms, blood staining the white dress you wore and his own clothes too. The executive dropped the gun, held your corpse tightly in his arms and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He was glad no one was there to see him cry and sob into your hair. No one would ever see the way he held you for an hour, the way he grew terrified of how your body temperature dropped. 

No one would ever see the pure feelings he had towards you. 

"Goodbye, [Name]."

Dazai woke up in a cold sweat, spine as straight as a candle while his mind was slowly realizing that this was nothing but a nightmare. A bad one, too. "Crap.." The executive rubbed the side of his head, his heart still pounding in his rib cage from the vision that had just haunted him. He hated how you tormented his mind and occupied it like it was your own pretty place. You should at least pay some rent.

Checking the time on his phone, the numbers 02:13 am greeted him. At that time, you were normally still practicing, pushing yourself past your limits until you were so worn out that all you could do was lie on the cool ground, panting. Dazai threw the blanket away a little harder than needed, grabbed a pair of pants and a button down shirt. He needed to make sure you were still alive, he seeked your presence. 

Maybe you could tend to the foreign panic he felt. 

A strong wave of relief and comfort washed over Dazai as he saw you on the stage and the song found its end. His heart no longer beat erratically in his chest, but gradually calmed down. Slumping down in his usual seat, Dazai realized one thing. 

He was scared of losing you. 

And judging by the way you stopped everything and ran off the stage to sit down right next to him, you were worried about him, too. Ah, how nice it was to feel your hand cup his cold cheek, the pad of your caressing the skin right underneath Dazai's eyes. He had grown used to your touchy-ness and right now, it was very welcomed. A confirmation that you were very much real and alive unlike in the nightmare you'd unknowingly put him through. 

"Everything okay?" Carefully, you asked as Dazai didn't mumble a single word and let himself being touched without much of a comment that served the mere purpose to make you blush. The suicidal brunette you grew fond of snapped out of whatever thought he was stuck in, his head whipping towards you. Worry was laced in your eyes and while Dazai definitely expected the devastating look you gave him, it pierced right through a sensitive spot of his. It was weird. 

"Do you think there's a difference between good and evil?" It was an unusually deep question which Dazai had never asked you before. Normally, he asked you for silly favors like choking him to death or using your high kick to break his neck. You blinked once, twice.

Then you realized that this was Dazai being in a vulnerable state. 

A heavy moment of silence filled the air around you and weighed heavily on your slim shoulders, words got stuck in your throat. School, family and society would say yes to that question, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized that maybe it was a matter of circumstances, interpretation and one's own morals. 

With a huff escaping your lips, you sat back in your seat and stared at the empty stage. The one you wanted to perform on with the hall being sold out, one day. "Maybe there isn't that much of a difference, depending on how you look at it," you started and caught Dazai's attention. He had long since figured that you were capable of thinking and feeling for your own, but he wasn't sure if he expected such a response from a citizen. "If two nations are at war and a man kills someone from the opposing country to protect someone close to him and the same happens vice versa, then who is good and who is evil?" Eyes fluttering shut, you tapped your temple with your index and middle finger, Dazai's own eyes always set on you. 

"Then there's also Yin and Yang. A bad seed lies in every good thing, a good seed lies in every bad thing," your gaze flew to the wall high above you, the dim lighting of the theater emphasized the tender structure of your jaw, the light in your eyes and the delicate curve of your neck. "So maybe good and bad are a curious mix of one another and aren't that different from one another."

Gradually, the light returned to Dazai's eyes and dipped them into the rich, chocolate brown color you liked so much. The curve on his lips was tender, the ghost of a smile but it was genuine and came from somewhere deep within his heart. You didn't know where this sudden, fond look came from, but you knew you never wanted it to disappear. "Do you have a camera with you?" Thrown off by his sudden question, you could only nod. "Uh yeah, why?" 

"I want to take a picture of us." Because he feared he might lose you for real. 

Without prodding any more, you dug around in your bag for the black device and came back with the camera in your hands, a smile on your face. "Well then, let's take a fancy picture." You positioned the camera on one of the empty seats. Dazai casually leaned his weight against the stage while you sat on the edge, feet dangling in the air and your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull the man closer. A tranquil expression was on Dazai's face as you did so and said "cheese!".

The picture ended up in the pocket of his trench coat, reminding him that he had a bit of light in his life. 

Lady luck certainly wasn't on your side this snowy day since she thought it was really funny to let your tyre drive over some sharp shards of glass. Swerving ever so slightly, you pulled up at a parking lot at an unfamiliar restaurant which was close to the frozen pier. "At least I didn't strand in the middle of nowhere." You huffed and tightly wrapped a scarf around your neck until the warm fabric covered about half of your face. It was a short walk from your car to the restaurant, but there was no way in hell you'd let the cold sink deeper into your bones than necessary. 

Once the engine died down, you got out of your car and entered the small restaurant which was visited by only one man. Red hair, blue eyes and a pleasant voice as he chatted away with who you assumed was the cook and boss of this place. Tugging off your gloves, the scarf soon followed and was placed on the empty stool next to you; at least it was comfortable. 

"Excuse me?" You politely interrupted the conversation between the two men and caught their attention. "My car died and I wondered if I could use someone's phone to get it towed away." The chubby cook was quick to respond as he handed you his old Nokia which was safely stored in the back pocket of his jeans. You thanked the man, glad that someone was willing to help and called the nearest auto repair shop. Ultimately, you didn't have any tyres in your trunk since you rarely drove. Oh, what a stupid decision that was. 

After a small phone call and receiving the information that it would certainly take some time to get to your car, you decided to at least order some food and a glass of water. It was the least you could do after the owner was kind enough to lend you his phone for approximately five minutes. 

While you were obviously enjoying your food, Odasaku couldn't help but wonder how high the probability of meeting you was. 

At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him, but there you were, sitting a few stools away to keep a decent distance from the stranger who was Dazai's best and only friend. The description Dazai had given Oda was definitely more than accurate and not an exaggeration on his friend's part: the hair, eyes, height and way of dressing up matched Dazai's words all too well. Ah, what did the brunette say about you once? Right, it was like you demanded everyone's attention as soon as you stepped in the room, but in a very positive way. It was simply the aura you gave off. 

Odasaku had seen the picture, too. You were definitely the woman who had hugged Dazai in the picture, beaming into the lens like no one else was watching. 

"It's pretty cold, isn't it?" To Oda's surprise, it was you who actually struck up a conversation out of the blue. You wiped the small heap of snowflakes from your head, some of the melted snow had already dampened your hair and clothes. "You know Dazai, don't you?" Odasaku changed the topic, curious about what you thought of his dear friend, what your feelings were and if you had any concealed intentions. Admittedly, it was impudent of him to question your aim when Odasaku only knew you from words. 

Eyes wide, you blinked in slight confusion before it clicked. "Yes, I do. Are you..by any chance Odasaku?" You had heard about Dazai's friends from some of his stories that either included a bar named Lupin or his job which the brunette still hadn't revealed. Well, it wasn't like it was any of your business, anyway. "I see he has already talked about me, huh? Only good things, I hope." Oda pretty much deadpanned and you couldn't help the laugh bubbling in the back of your throat at how serious he sounded - just like Dazai said. "Of course I heard only good things about you! Don't worry about it."

In-between a quick introduction and a few bites of the pasta you had ordered, you heard the question:"What do you think about Dazai?" Warmth was quick to dip the apple of your cheeks in a reddish color as your brain thought of an appropriate answer and how far you could go. Sure, this man was Dazai's best friend, but in the end, Odasaku was still a stranger to you. "What I think of him?" You repeated more to yourself than to Oda and suddenly got..shy. Odasaku nodded wordlessly. 

"Dazai is an interesting person. It's hard to tell what he's thinking or feeling, yet being with him is fairly easy. Strikes me as someone who's definitely popular with the ladies and knows it, but he seems like a good guy, regardless. Pretty funny, too." For a moment your pursed your lips, fork poking around in your beloved pasta as you possibly shared too much, yet again. "I really like him, I guess.." Oda found no lie in your body language, in the way you talked or reacted when he asked you about the suicidal brunette. However, maybe you liked the mafia executive more than you realized or wanted to admit, Oda silently thought to himself. 

"I might be sticking my nose into things where it's not wanted, but you definitely caught Dazai's interest." Oda paid for his own food, the cook mumbling something about him not having to do it, but accepting the money, nevertheless. "Huh?" Did your ears betray you or did Dazai's best friend, the infamous Odasaku who the younger man looked up to so much, tell you that Dazai was indeed intrigued? Maybe, you should get your ears checked, soon. Just to be sure.

"If you weren't interesting, Dazai wouldn't visit you. He's not much of a dancer and even less interested in it. But you seem to have caught him in a way."

With those words being said, Odasaku bid his farewell to the cook and you who was still processing his words and contemplating how much weight to give that revelation. Sure, Dazai had told you several days ago that he wasn't a dancer, but you couldn't really figure out why he insisted on still visiting you. 

For the rest of the day, your heart beat a little bit faster than it was supposed to and this time, you were aware of the reason why. 

Your encounter with Oda should've kept your spirits high, but that wasn't the case unfortunately. This night was void of any stars, thick, dark clouds even hid the moon that was usually watching you akin to a certain brunette. 

But just like the moon, he didn't show up. 

As always, just like every night, you stretched and practiced in the empty theater. The more time progressed, the more you seemed to mess up and feed into your own disappointment which quickly turned into impatience mixed with frustration. It seemed like your legs had a mind of their own and refused to listen to you while your muscles were getting sore from the strenuous training you forced them through. 

You kept tripping over your own feet, painfully fell to your knees and sometimes managed to cushion the fall by dropping on your arms rather than your ribs. The soles of your feet ached, screaming at you to rest while a stifling soreness stretched itself throughout your muscles. But no, you couldn't stop. Not yet. Not when you were so close to perfecting the choreography, not when you were so close to feeling satisfied with the outcome. All you needed was more practice.

Sweat drenched your shirt and made your feet stick to the wooden floor in a disgusting way. But it would be worth it. The pain would pain off. You hoped. 

Stretching your arm out, you felt the pain in your shoulder, but you gave it your all nevertheless. As soon as you stood on one leg, the limb gave out below you and ruthlessly let another bruise bloom on your kneecaps. Red, blue, purple, green and yellow stained your knees. A pained groan strained your throat as you picked yourself back up again, palms red from the amount of times you had done so. It was a painful process, but you needed it. Feeling that pain was so much better than feeling the distress of the impending death as a dancer, again. 

Why couldn't you get that one move right? It was supposed to be easy and yet, you always failed over and over again. "Fuck.." You cussed underneath your heavy breath and wiped a few tears away. This was no time to cry over trivial things. The only reason why you picked up dancing again was to feel something. You had already died once and gosh was that painful. Oh, how you vowed to never die, again. 

Once more. Taking a deep breath to keep your composure under control, you kept your arms straight by your side and put your weight on your dominant leg. You were in the middle of pivoting with your chest nearly touching your upper thighs when you lost your balance and fell to your knees and elbows. This time, tears flowed, the music kept going without you. 

"To hell with it!" You yelled, threw your shoes against the wall in anger, frustration even and slid down the length of the wall. Heavy sobs rocked your body and you forgot that the vast space left an ugly echo of the disappointment you let out freely. At least, you were alone with no one to see you in such a weak moment. No one would see your tears and attempt to wipe them away. No one would tell you to cheer up and whisper sweet encouragements into your ear. 

All you needed was to let it out. 

It took you a while to calm down and find the bathroom of the theater. As you looked into the mirror, you were met with bloodshot eyes, messy hair and sticky clothes. Gazing downwards, you saw just how red your palms were and spotted a few cuts from mean splinters. Worn out, you rolled up the sleeves of your shirt and cringed at your bloody elbows, the red liquid was nearly dry and crusted around more severe bits. Just what you needed, really. 

A sigh slipped your dry lips as cold water hit your hands, the temperature somewhat soothed the ache and calmed you down until you saw how the water turned red. "No, no, no, no!" You called out, eyes brimming with new tears you didn't know you still possessed as you scrubbed your hands, forearms and elbows furiously. The minor wounds reopened, causing fresh blood to leak from the broken skin and stain the sink in an hideous crimson. 

That night, you scrubbed until it hurt. 

No song resonated with you. 

A few nights had passed when Dazai stepped foot into the theater once again and was welcomed by the sophisticated shadow your silhouette painted on the vast wall like the finest of paintings. Compared to the shadow, you were so bright and oh-so-short. He liked the contrast. 

Silently to not disturb the flow you seemed to be in, Dazai took his seat as always and let his eyes drink in of the passionate smooth image that was you. The executive wondered just how much strength you had to possess in order to quickly switch from sleek moves to sharp ones that made your legs and chest pop. He wondered how many restless nights you had spent dancing in your room, on your own with no one to watch. He wondered why you still danced, although it seemed to be such an exhausting process. 

All these questions were answered as Dazai merely watched you. The way you got lost in the lovely melody of the piano which was akin to a day in spring and spun on stage with your hands resting right above your heart, a happy grin on your face - that was the answer. Dance was something you were good at and found joy in.

Dazai was drawn to the way your shoes squeaked against the wooden floor, how your ripped jeans hugged your legs and the adorably oversized sweater. Everything was so you that Dazai found familiarity in your presence, peace and a bit of warmth which every human so selfishly craved for. 

"It's good to see you, again." You squatted on the stage, arms hugging your shins closer to your body and as the holes in your jeans stretched, Dazai immediately noticed the nasty bruises on your knees. Seeing these stains for the first time, he wondered how hard how hard you had pushed yourself to look like you had fallen into a bucket of paint. How often had you fallen and still continued although it hurt? No doubt that the bruises still hurt at this moment, but when Dazai's eyes fell on your face, he saw nothing of the hell you had put yourself through. The smile on your reddish lips was tender, your eyes twinkled in the dim lighting and you welcomed him like he was your dear friend. 

You never complained about the bruises on your knees. 

"This sounds like you missed me, [Name]." In all honesty, a small, soft part within the brunette hoped you had missed him just like you had occupied his thoughts during his own work. For once, Dazai wanted to be missed by you, even though he had been gone for less five days. Your legs dangled off the edge of the stage, palms behind your back and supporting your weight as you nodded your head slightly. "Honestly? I did. It's not the same when you're absent, Dazai."

The mafia executive came to stand between your legs, bandaged hands resting on your hips and your doe eyes looking up at him in anticipation. His heart was so easily swayed by you and lord punish him if he would ever do anything to hurt you. "You meant what you said, didn't you? About not being able to find another audience." Ah, how were you supposed to respond? This was the first time Dazai got so close to you, touched you and it felt oddly intimate how he spoke, how he looked at you. Your heart pounded in your ribcage. "I always mean what I say, Osamu. None of them would be you." 

Dazai was nearly cautious when he tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear as if you were to break if he was too rough with you. He so badly wanted to deny himself of you, of your presence and the mere thought of you, but humans were sinful beings who always wanted the one thing they could break, taint and corrupt. When had you made Dazai so weak for you? A foreign emotion which Dazai experienced for the possibly very first time in his lonely life and he didn't want to let go of it. Rather, he wanted to protect and treasure it in fear it'd break. But what if Dazai himself was the one to shatter whatever was going on between you and him? 

Unconsciously, Dazai cupped your cheek in his hand and caressed the skin underneath your eye - much like you had done when the man had searched for you after the nightmare he surely wouldn't forget so easily. Maybe, Dazai wanted to caress all your bruises and wounds away. "Really? I reckon you'd find an audience of much greater size." His voice was barely above a whisper while you leaned into his touch, blushing. Slender fingers tugged on Dazai's tie until the tip of your nose poked his own, your warm breath fanning over his cheeks. "If I could choose between a crowd and you, I'd always choose you, Osamu."

Dazai's lips hesitantly brushed over yours, it was like the touch of a ghost to see how you'd react and you never shied away. Instead, you took matters into your own hands and pressed your lips to Dazai's, gently at first. 

After getting over his initial shock, the executive let his eyes flutter shut while his hand now cupped the nape of your neck, thumb still on your cheek as Dazai let his lips melt into yours. It was a sweet kiss shared between two people who weren't familiar with the concept of loving someone else, but the act felt so awfully right; like one had finally found a long lost piece of a puzzle and could finally finish the picture. 

You smiled once the kiss was broken, but Dazai was quick to chase your lips and engage you in another lip lock. This time, it was firm and you let your lips melt into Dazai's with your palms on his chest to feel his heartbeat. Ah, it was just starting to calm down, you noted and smiled into the innocent kiss. 

You felt warm all over. 

"Let me watch you dance one more time."

Your response came in the form of a simple nod. 

And so, Dazai sat on down on the stage and watched you spin or fall into a half-split to your heart's content. He had no interest in dance, but he was interested in you. 

Hopefully, he would get the chance to see you during the day, as well. 

But that wish wouldn't be granted until four years later, because Odasaku died.

Spring rolled around and cherry blossoms bloomed throughout the lively streets of Yokohama. Children's laughter filled the playgrounds with some much needed life, the sun smiled down at the city while the salty breeze of the shore cooled everyone down once in a while.

But the most important thing: The agency was as energetic as ever with Kunikida scolding Dazai for having tried to woo the waitress at Uzumaki's in an inappropriate manner. Something about needing her hands around his neck or something like that. Atsushi watched his superiors in shock and mild confusion as the scene continued. "Ah, right, I can't waste any more time on you. A client is on the way." The blonde detective brushed his palms off on his pants as though Dazai had dirtied them just by breathing. 

"Whaaat? But that means more work and even more reports!" Dazai complained and dramatically palmed his face, head leaned back to the ceiling as he dreaded the new amount of work a new client brought. Despite the brunette's constant complaints, Dazai still finished whatever was expected of him; it was Odasaku's wish he was currently living. "Quit complaining and make yourself look acceptable. You look like you just got choked." Kunikida scolded after having choked Dazai himself. 

The opening of a door went unheard as the two detectives kept arguing back and forth and was only interrupted by Atsushi greeting the client as politely as he could. He was told not to ruin the Agency's name and Atsushi was sure that Kunikida would drag him through hell and back himself if he was to mess up. "Welcome! You must be Ms. [Name], right?" Atsushi hoped you'd ignore the mess happening in the background. 

"Exactly. There's an issue and.." Gradually, you trailed off as you raised your gaze, let yourself take in the office until they landed on him. The man you thought had died due to his suicidal tendencies stood right in front of you among his colleagues. The man you had grown so deeply attached to was very much alive and still looked the same, though he had grown and matured a bit. Overall, his entire energy seemed to be a tad bit brighter. 

Your muscles froze, hands shaking as your eyes widened and silent tears rolled down your cheeks. Dazai seemed just as shocked; his gaze was deeply locked with your teary one as he too recognized you. How couldn't he recognize you? You were the first person to soothe the pain he felt even if it was only for a couple of hours. Dazai still carried the picture around. 

"U-uhm.." Atsushi was about to ask what was going on, but Kunikida stopped the rookie by putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him away from the scene. Kunikida didn't know the deal between Dazai and you, but he did know that you two obviously needed to talk about it without anyone interrupting. "Don't. You can ask him later."

"It's you Osamu, isn't it?" Hastily, you wiped your tears away once the shock wore off. How often did you wait for Dazai to come through the doors of the theater with an unreadable expression on his face? How often had you simply sat in the vast hall with Sensei in your lap instead of dancing? How often had you cried thinking that Dazai succeeded in taking his own life? "It's been a while, hasn't it, [Name]?" Dazai's expression softened upon seeing you again, although he was also scared. He never thought anyone from his past would see him ever again, and yet there you were. 

"Would you let me explain?" 

You should be angry at Dazai for leaving you behind just like that, but a bigger part of you was so relieved to see the brunette still breathing, standing in front of you with that same damn look lingering in the depths of his eyes. "You'd better." Dazai offered you his hand to take, hoping to take some of your anxiety and maybe some of his own fears, too. 

Luckily, Dazai found out you were still dancing. 

That night, he watched you once again and never stopped watching you.

[valhallanrose]

I’ll Spend One of Nine Lives With You

@arcana-echoes​

I’ve chosen to simply pick and choose prompts and post when I feel like it, so for my first post, I’m borrowing the Familiar prompt. 

1.6k words

In the late hours of the night, Miriyam sat perched on the edge of her balcony, one leg propped up and a long emptied mug in hand as she watched the streets below for something in particular. 

Or rather, someone. 

Miriyam watched the small figure dart between narrow alleys and around stacks of crates, all the way up until it skirted a few protrusions on the wall and climbed up onto the balcony. 

“You’re late.” Miriyam said, ignoring the bright blue eyes that stared up at her with rapt attention.

Sappho meowed incredulously, looking out toward the setting sun, which had just barely dipped past the horizon. Miriyam shook her head, reaching out and pointing to the streetlamps lining the path the feline had taken home. 

“No, you’re supposed to be home when the lights turn on, remember? That’s dinnertime.”

A few beats of silence before Miriyam sighed and chuckled, offering Sappho an open hand that she leaned into with a loud purr. She scratched behind Sappho’s ear, letting her nuzzle her nose into her palm and rub along her wrist before she finally slid off the railing, patting her thigh to get the cat to follow her inside.

“Well, no harm done. Just remember tomorrow. Come on - dinner for you, drawing for me. I’ll give you extra if you pose for me.”

With a loud chirp, Sappho climbed down from the railing, eagerly darting a few paces ahead of Miriyam - and periodically turning back to yowl for her to hurry the hell up already - until she made it into the kitchen to actually put together the dinner in question. 

As Miriyam went through the motions, muscle memory now that she’d had Sappho for so long now - so much so that she didn’t even have to look up when she scooped the cat off the counter and deposited her gently on the floor when she got too close to a moving knife. But there was a certain comfort she found in the presence of another creature, another beating heart, on quiet nights where she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. 

Moving to Vesuvia had been strange - it was the first time she’d approached any place with the intention of settling down and living there rather than bouncing between inns. She hadn’t gone in with the intention of becoming the neighborhood cat lady, but that seemed to have been assigned to her no matter what she would have done. 

She’d wanted to find a pretty spot in the city, but before she’d had any sort of income, the only place she could afford was run down and certainly in need of a lot of love. Not that she minded – fixing the place up gave her something to do in an unfamiliar place – but it came with neighbors.

Specifically, a large grouping of cats that seemed to claim the back alley as their territory.

If Miriyam was honest, the cats probably made her feel more at home than anything else. She’d watch them sun themselves from her bedroom window when they gathered, sketching relaxed tails and curled up bodies until she lost the light she needed. Many of them seemed like they had homes – they’d always been well brushed, well fed, and generally friendly when Miriyam had eventually taken to sitting on her back step and smoking when the weather was nice enough.

When she’d picked up work, she started leaving food out for the strays, often enough that they’d dart between her legs and press noses to her ankles when they heard her keys jingling halfway down the street. They were reasonable enough company, Miriyam thought, taking great joy in the rare occasions bumps against her ankles would turn into noses pressed against her open palm. Slowly, ever so slowly, they all began to warm up to her – save for one.

Miriyam had seen the biggest of the bunch prowling on the edge of the group, always lingering on her peripheral with ears laid back and body stiff with tension. She’d caught a glimpse of the matts clinging to the poor thing’s long coat, the odd kink in its tail, the shredded ear...but the cuts were new, and so was the limp. And they weren’t getting better.

So one cold winter morning, when Miriyam looked out her window and spotted the cat in question sunning itself atop a stack of crates, she picked up an old blanket and crept her way downstairs, trying not to startle the cat in question until she’d made it outside. She’d barely made it out the back door before the cat was up, hackles raised and poised to run as Miriyam swore under her breath.

“Alright…easy, kitty, I just want to help…”

She crept forward one step, then two, the cat hissing angrily before it devolved into a sort of scuffle as Miriyam attempted to wrangle the cat into the blanket in question.

So when she ended up on the ground, clutching a wildly squirming mass of fabric, she had to let out a laugh and a sigh all at once of the absurdity of the situation. She sat up slowly, clutching the blanket to her chest, and tentatively started to pull the edge of it back to see if she could get a look at the cat’s face.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was – fuck!”

A very, very angry paw had lashed out, slashing a line through Miriyam’s brow and catching before ripping free, another swipe only interrupted as Miriyam quickly put the blanket back in place.

“Yeah, okay, I deserved that. I’d probably be pretty pissy too if I were you.” Miriyam sighed, wiping a hand across her brow and wincing at the stark red trail it left behind. “But I’ve got a friend who I think can help.”

*     *     *     *     *

By the time she’d come back from Zelda’s shop, brow cleaned up and with strict instructions on how to clean the cat’s ears and the cuts on her face, Miriyam realized that this may not have been her brightest idea.

This cat wanted nothing to do with her, couldn’t get far enough away in fact, which meant Miriyam was screwed if she couldn’t get close enough to actually do anything Zelda had told her. But she didn’t want to leave the cat to get sick, so…time to improvise.

There was a spare room, empty and unused, that Miriyam decided would be the cat’s space for the time being. She’d dragged an armchair in there and a few sacrificial sweaters and blankets, trying to give the cat some space to relax and adjust before approaching again. And if she was honest, that took weeks - and she had a few thin scars on her ankles from the early days when the feline wanted nothing to do with her. 

But Miriyam was patient, sitting in the room after bringing food to the cat, day after day until finally, finally she was allowed to give her a few scratches behind the ear. 

Slowly, the cat began to open up, letting Miriyam carefully administer her medications and comb out the matting that had formed in the cat’s wildly thick fur. She was still wary of Miriyam, but far less than she’d been before, as if realizing that Miriyam was definitely out of her depth but doing her best to do right by the cat even if she’d never had one before. 

The bittersweet day came where Miriyam realized the cat was healthy again - the thought coming to her as she watched the unnamed feline stare after the birds and watch the other cats from the sill of her bedroom window. So Miriyam decided to let her go, swing open the door and let her go enjoy the company of her friends - thinking she’d see her lingering about the alley as she did before. 

So when the cat trotted away into the group of cats, Miriyam headed out to run errands for the day, and life went on. 

For maybe six hours, until Miriyam came home and found the cat had not only gotten into her house, but was also waiting by the spot where her dish usually went in the kitchen with an expectant look on her face. 

Miriyam dropped her shopping on the counter with a laugh, setting her hands on her hips. “Oh, so you’re thinking you’re going to freeload, huh? Pay me rent, then.”

What Miriyam didn’t expect was for the cat to hop up on the counter and nuzzle its face into her cheek, purring as if her life depended on it - making Miriyam laugh and turn her head to nuzzle the cat’s face back. 

“Okay, okay…you win. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

*     *     *     *     *

A soft meow drew Miriyam out of her thoughts, making her shake her head and look at Sappho - who had climbed into Miriyam’s lap and made herself at home after finishing her dinner. She smiled, reaching over to the table beside the armchair and picking up a small bag she’d picked up earlier that day. 

“Sorry it took me so long to do this part.” Miriyam chuckled, pulling the collar out of the bag and running her fingers across the woven material. “Want to make it official?”

Sappho chirped again, craning her head up as Miriyam slipped the collar around her neck and tugged lightly on the golden heart-shaped tag. Her thumb passed over the swirling script of the cat’s name as she kissed Sappho’s nose, smiling when Sappho lifted her head and bumped her nose into the scar that remained on her brow. 

“Happy gotcha day, Sappho. Thank you for choosing me too.”

[schnees-and-schnugs]

head empty baby schneebling ficlet ??? (just so yall know i had no idea what this was going to be about until i started typing so im gonna be surprised by what i write too). if it seems that winter has chronic ADHD brain in this fic its bc i have chronic ADHD brain and that’s just how i roll.

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  Winter tried to ignore the meowing as long as she could. After all, there was not a single feline creature to be found in the manor, so either she’s dreaming or hallucinating. Or maybe her ears are ringing from her father’s latest tantrum. 

  Being held hostage at the dinner table and forced to listen to his incessant barking voice ought to have caused me permanent brain damage. She smirked under her covers. Now if I can close my eyes and go back to sleep-

  “MEEEEROOOWOOW”

  What the fuck is that?

  Winter knew she ought to get up but she really did not want to. Her thighs ached from horse riding lessons earlier in the day. Her head ached from her business studies her father forced down her throat. Her soul ached from the pain of existence. She was beginning to think she was being punished for some transgression- if being unbelievably charming and sexy deserved- actually, I don’t think I’m going to finish that train of thought. 

  Winter could only tolerate her own sense of humor in small doses, but giver her situation- her entire life up to this point- she didn’t think having an unbecoming jocularity was high up on her list of Current Problems and Tragedies. In fact, it’s quite low given that her father makes up the better part of the first half. 

  She rolled onto her side, one ear muffled by her pillow, and the other under the soft thick layer of her cotton blanket. The noise seemed to have disappeared, and Winter was quite okay with that. She wondered briefly of the possibility of a mountain lion finding its way into the Schnee Estate. She wasn’t even sure if wild animals such as that existed in Solitas, much less bright and pristine Atlas. Winter wasn’t even sure if mountain lions meowed. 

  If a beast made it’s way into the manor, what would I even do? No doubt she would try to locate the animal, gather Weiss and Whitley in her arms and stow them somewhere safe. Maybe even use a piece of meat to lure the lion into father’s bedroom, she mused. Winter tried lull herself back to sleep with the thought of her father begging her for mercy as she unleashes her new pet-

  “MREEEEEEEEEEEWOOOOOOOOOOOOOW”

  Her eyes snapped open. Gods-

  A soft muffled voice followed the feline yell. A familiar voice. A voice exactly suited for one little boy she new very well. 

  Winter narrowed her eyes and listening closely. She could tell it was Whitley from the general childish sound of his tone, but due to her very comfortable position in bed, she couldn’t quite her the specifics. Huffing, she sat up and pricked up her ears.

  “... quiet....please kitty... you’re going to wake up....”

  Winter sputtered. Kitty?

  Did Whitley somehow bring a cat into the manor? She didn’t doubt that given the chance he would- he was overly fond of animals in a way that Winter never understood. Not that she hated animals per se, but the idea of the added responsibility of a pet on top of her already ever-growing responsibilities of being heir to the SDC did not sit well with her. Whitley on the other hand, being the third child, and well, and actual child, didn’t really have much to care about beyond his normal tutoring sessions. Which means that, of course he can have a tiny bird feeders outside his window to feed the little birdies and cry at the sight of a roasted chicken because how could they kill and cook and innocent little animal?

  Winter didn’t understand how a child under 10 years of age could be taken by vegan persuasions- even Father was shocked to silence at that outburst at the dinner table.

  The sound of Whitley’s voice faded out as Winter strained her ears. If he did bring a cat into the manor, she needed to fix that immediately. Father would be furious at not only being woken up in the middle of the night but Whitley breaking the strict rule of no animals whatsoever allowed indoors.

  Father is allergic.

  (What animal he’s allergic to is unknown, but Winter suspects he’s just afraid of them).

  Sliding off the bed, Winter winced at the feeling of cold tile on her bare feet. She simultaneously thought of giving Whitley a good scolding for making her roll off of bed at such an ungodly hour and thanking the Gods that Whitley’s room was right next to hers on the other side of the wall. And the farthest away from Father’s room.

  Sliding her feet into a pair of pale blue fluffy slippers, she cautiously stepped out of her room and into the hallway. The moment the clock strikes 12 the hallway lamps usually shut off on their own, leaving at least this portion of the manor pitch black until the sun rises and lights up through the windows. If Father was working late he would manually change the lights to turn off at a later time- only to suite himself, of course. Everyone else who had the misfortune of living in the manor had to finish up and be back in their rooms by midnight or suffer having to find their room in the dark among the endless doors that lined the hallway. Winter had mastered the art of blindly walking down this hall- but not without multiple mishaps and embarrassments at first, unfortunately. 

  Arms outstretched, Winter felt her way from her doorway to Whitley’s room. She kept close to the wall and tiptoed, feeling for the doorknob before pressing her ear against the room door.

  “Are you hungry little kitty?” There was an affirmative purr and Whitley hummed. “I’m going to have to find you some treats...”

  Winter could practically hear the cogs turning in his little adolescent mind. She knew for sure that Whitley was formulating a plan to break into the food storage for the animals in Mom’s garden- would they even have any cat food in there? He surely is going to be disappointed. 

  Winter sighed. She almost wished she had stayed in bed. She turned the knob and nudged open the door, prompting Whitley to softly gasp. 

  “Winnie!” She heard him quickly shift on his bed. Winter stepped fully into the space before gently closing the door behind her. She turned towards him and assessed the scene before her. Whitley, in his white nightgown, sat in the middle of the bed. He was cradling a suspicious lump wrapped up with his blanket while his round face was contorted by a small frown as he stared back at his oldest sister.

  “Father says that we shouldn’t leave out room after midnight”, the lump shifted and Whitley clutched it tighter.

  “Father also says we aren’t allowed to bring animals into the manor...” Winter crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s that on your lap?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Are you sure?” Whatever annoyance Winter felt melted away at the sight of Whitley pouting. She sauntered playfully to the edge of his bed and wiggled and finger in his face. “Are you lying to me? Your older sister Winnie? You’re lying to me?”

  Whitley broke eye contact. “Well...” The lump mewed and a furry white paw extended from out of the cover of the blanket. Winter raised a brow.

  “That looks suspiciously like a cat.” Winter crawled into his bed and uncovered the little creature. The cat loafed on Whitley’s lap, grooming the pristine white fur on around its pink paw beans. It looked to be a few years old. 

  “Isn’t it pretty?” Whitley caressed the cat’s back, having already moved on from the earlier argument. Winter tried to pat its head but the little critter swiftly dodged her palm and scampered to the edge of the bed and curled up, seemingly to sleep. Rude.

  There’s a more present matter at hand anyways.

  “Where did you find it?” Winter turned her attention back to her little brother.

  “Her”

  “What?”

  “It’s a she, Winnie! Look at her butt!” Winter politely declined the suggestion. She had no interest in inspecting the cat’s backside- she didn’t seem to like Winter anyways.

  “Well, where did you find her?” 

  “I didn’t find her! Mr. Hartley gave her to me”

  “The grounds keeper?”  Winter scoffed. “Why would he give you a cat?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why don’t you don’t believe me?” His eyes started to brim with tears and he grabbed Winters right hand with his own two smaller ones. “Father said we’re not allowed to bring animals in here but I didn’t know what to do! Mr. Hartley said he’s leaving but he can’t take her with him. I said I would keep her. But Father is going to yell at me if he finds out- I’m scared...” 

  Winter’s chest ached at the desperation in Whitley’s voice. This isn’t normal is it? For a child to be so terrified of their parent like this. When she was his age, she felt the same way- so scared and vulnerable. It was the end of the world to get negative attention from Father, and most of the time it seemed to be the only type of attention he gave. It almost seemed par for the course all those years ago. She didn’t know any better- it was just the norm.

  Looking at Whitley, petrified like she was- she could see the abuse from the outside. Almost as if she’s watching her own experiences and she’s chained to a front row seat. Except she didn’t have an older sibling to hold her hand and to share the pain with. To protect her. To defend her. Isn’t that what she always wanted in the worst days of the past? Couldn’t she be that now?

  Whitley couldn’t keep the cat. There was no amount of convincing that could make Father give in- it’s always been about his own ego, more than anything. But that doesn’t mean that Father has to know this cat was ever here in the first place. Atlas has plenty of animal shelters, and having a pet cat was in vogue now. She would convince Whitley to let Klein take the cat to the nearest one in the morning. Father would never know if they were discrete. 

  “Winnie...” Whitley’s bright blue eyes searched her face.

  Winter grabbed him under his arms, and with little struggle, sat him between her stretched out legs. She hugged him around the waist from behind and softly told him her plan. 

  “... do you want to do this with me?”

  Whitley sniffed. “I can’t keep her?”

  “Father won’t allow you to. We can make sure the kitty is safe and taken care of though... Klein will do this for us, I know it. You won’t get yelled at and you can tell her goodbye in the morning. Father will be none the wiser.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that he’ll never know.”

  Whitley was quiet for a few seconds before Winter felt him nod softly beneath her chin. “Can I sleep with her tonight?”

  Winter blinked. She forgot it was currently hours past Whitley’s bedtime. He must be half asleep.

  “Yes. Just make sure to keep her in your room, okay? I’ll leave a message for Klein to see in the morning. Don’t...” She paused. She noticed Whitley breath start to even out as he fell asleep against her.

  I suppose I’m going to be sleeping her tonight also. She needed to make sure that this all goes well. However, Winter couldn’t ignore the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Was she just getting Whitley used to this? Hiding secrets out of fear? Was she allowing Father to have his way in Whitley’s eyes? Getting Whitley accustomed to living under Father’s thumb? She was just trying to protect him. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of selfishness, that she was denying Whitley happiness for the sake of peace with their Father.

  Mom always told her to choose her battles carefully. 

  She couldn’t help but feel that if she chose all the wrong ones, she’ll end up hurting Whitley beyond repair.

[2manyfandoms2count]

#LadynoirJuly Day 1

I’m back for Ladynoir July! I’m really glad I got an excuse to write something for this side of the Lovesquare :D Hope you like this first piece, it started out slightly angsty but then I decided to save most of it for the Breakdown prompt 😉

Thanks @ladynoirjuly2020 for organising the event!

---

Day 1: The Wall Between Us

“Ladybug, wait!” Chat Noir jogged up to his partner, who’d been about to yoyo away. 

“Yes, Chat Noir?” She interrupted her movement and waited expectantly. The patrol had been very quiet, for once, so it wasn’t as if she had to be somewhere. 

The pair had long abandoned their nicknames for each other, some time between their battle against Miracle Queen and their first relationships. It hurt somewhat, at first, but they’d quickly learned how to interact without them. There was something slightly uncomfortable about lying to Luka and Kagami about their comings and goings, which wasn’t helped by the fact Ladybug felt like she was cheating anytime she’d call Chat by his pet name. Chat Noir refrained from calling her ‘my lady’ or ‘Bugaboo’, afraid he’d slip up someday with Kagami.

Unfortunately for Marinette, the secrecy and sneaking around had  done little to help her develop a lasting relationship with Luka. Add to that the fact that her boyfriend had been singled out by Jagged Stone as a back up guitarist after a competition and was now touring Europe, one could say that long distance, both emotional and physical, had signed the death of romantic Lukanette. They did remain friends, Luka sending her postcards of every city he stayed in. They were gradually replacing Adrien on Marinette’s board. 

“Did you think about it?” Chat asked.

Ladybug sighed as she finally let her hand fall to her side. She should’ve known Chat wouldn’t drop the topic. The previous month, drunk on lack of sleep from repeated Akuma attacks and anxiety at the idea that her relationship was slowly, but surely unraveling, Ladybug had carelessly told her partner that she was getting tired of secrets and that they deserved to know more about each other, if only just to facilitate out-of-costume communication. She tried not to rely on Chat too much with the Guardian job, but she was determined to make him realise how important he was to her (and, incidentally, to Paris) by delegating more tasks to him. She was tired of the mystery that surrounded their identities, which prevented them from communicating as freely as they should’ve been able to. With all due respect to Alya, Chat Noir was her best friend, and something told her that she officially held the same place in his life now that he had a girlfriend. 

They were the only ones who shared the burden of saving Paris every day, while still having to juggle friends, family, school, and extracurriculars. All of their conversations, however, were censored by the looming wall between them, a filter which she thought it was high time to tear down. She couldn’t take the duality of their conversations anymore, either far too mundane or way too deep, the constant being the vagueness that surrounded their anecdotes. She just wanted something in between. Chances were they didn’t know each other anyway, so what difference would it make to be able to talk about the Françoise Dupont shenanigans without making the story convoluted enough that it couldn’t be traced back to the Collège?

At first, Chat had been ecstatic at the idea. He’d dreamed about this moment since the first time they’d gone home from fighting an Akuma. He’d daydreamed about a proper way to reveal his identity at least a thousand times, but scrapping all his ideas as either too sappy, stupid, obvious, in short not right. It had actually made him rethink wanting to tell her who he was. 

There was no way the person behind the mask hadn’t heard about him. His father had made sure of that by apparently buying the ad spaces on all the Paris billboards, buses and whatever else could hold a perfume poster (not to mention the fact Ladybug had saved him a good dozen times), and that was the problem. What if her opinion of him was tarnished by his celebrity? Worse, what if she started treating him differently because of it? He desperately wanted to get to know her, to share his whole life with her, but the wall between them did provide a shelter he was reluctant to give up. As much as he tried to be himself in his day-to-day life, he could tell he got special treatment from a lot of people, and many of the remaining crowd was intently studying his every move, waiting for him to slip up. With Ladybug, as Chat Noir, he got to be… well, not completely ordinary, but they did share a status. He could slip without worrying about what his father or the press would say, and he knew that the fall wouldn’t be long anyway with his partner around. He was terrified about losing what they had.

Ladybug shook her head lightly, looking at her feet. Chat Noir took her hand in a reassuring gesture, and helped her sit down facing him.

“I’m sorry.” She said, hiding her face in her hands. “There are a million reasons why we should do this, but I always feel like why we shouldn’t outweighs them all.” 

Chat placed his hand on her knee tentatively. “It’s alright, LB. I actually wanted to tell you… I don’t think this is the right time.”

Ladybug’s head snapped up. Of everything he could have said, this was probably the last thing she would have expected. She looked attentively at her partner, who looked more serious than she’d ever seen him before. 

“Really?” She breathed, squeezing his hand in hers. She didn’t quite know how to feel, frustrated that they were putting off something inevitable again, offended that he didn’t want to know anymore, or relieved by it.

He gave her a sad smile in response, his eyes filled with fondness and something else she couldn’t quite make out. “M’lady,” her old nickname rolled off his tongue before he could register what he was saying, his thoughts directed solely towards his very best friend. “If this was it, we’d know. And maybe it won’t even happen then, purr-haps we’ll be caught off guard when the time comes, but it should be something we don’t lose sleep about.” 

“I guess you’re right, Chaton.” She smiled softly, absentmindedly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. “What made you change your mind?” She asked curiously.

“The reasons why we shouldn’t started being louder than the others.” He shrugged, his gaze losing focus as he looked into the distance.

“You know you can talk to me if you need to, right?” Ladybug said tentatively after a short pause. “Maybe we’re not ready to know who we are, but I still think we should loosen the rules a little.”

 “That could work.” Chat nodded. “How do we do that?”

“We could change the names of the people we talk about. And the exact story.”

“Okay, so for example… My girlfriend’s name is... Kelly?” He tried. She nodded encouragingly. “I met her because we both… play tennis in the same place. I like her very much, but I’m afraid she’ll get tired of me finding flaky excuses when the city’s attacked by Akumas. It’s not very honourable.”

Ladybug patted his knee with her free hand. “As long as you know you’re doing the honourable thing by protecting her and this city, I’m sure you can find a way to compensate. I promise that someday, she’ll know why you couldn’t stay by her side. And if you need me to talk to her, I’ll gladly do it! She should know how amazing her boyfriend is.”

Chat was thankful for the darkness around them, which concealed his blush. Ladybug’s compliments were becoming less rare, but they generally concerned his skills or actions, not himself directly. He cleared his throat. “What about you? Didn’t you say you have a boyfriend?” 

“Had.” She corrected. “Louis and I are still friends, but he left town to… study.” It wasn’t that far from the truth. “He’s a little older, so we didn’t get to see much of each other, anyway. Especially with the whole Guardian business and everything.” She gestured vaguely at the city at their feet.

“Was he the boy you had talked to me about before?” Chat pried. 

Ladybug thought about Adrien. Seeing him so happy with Kagami, she had abandoned her pursuit, which had led her to Luka. In both cases, she thought, the outcome would have been the same anyway, especially since Adrien had an even busier schedule than the blue-haired boy. They would have barely seen each other if they’d dated. “No. That was… Arthur. He was a very accomplished musician. He wouldn’t have been happy with me; like you said, I would’ve been very absent for a supposedly caring girlfriend. We’re good friends, though, and I’m satisfied with that.”

“His loss, I guess. And who meows, maybe it’ll work out someday.” He winked at her.

They continued chatting for a while, moving to the edge of the roof to get a better look at the illuminated streets. Soon, they had more or less rebuilt their lives and were talking freely, Alya becoming Alice or Audrey, Nino, Nathan or Nicolas, Marinette, Madeleine… The way they distorted things, or pulled up older events they’d meant to talk about earlier made them unrecognisable, although there were times where the stories felt familiar, without them being able to put their finger on it. They laughed, more than they’d had in months, talking about their excuses to justify their absence during a fight. It felt good to finally talk about something else than strategies, Akumas or Sentimonsters. 

When the Eiffel Tower flickered for the third time since the beginning of their conversation, Ladybug and Chat Noir agreed it was probably time to go home. As they walked away, both turned around before leaping off the roof, giving each other a small wave and a wide smile before leaving, already looking forward to the next patrol. Ladybug realised they hadn’t shared a moment like this in a while, if ever. 

Maybe they’d be okay sitting on their own side of the wall, after all.

[frogmanwritings]

Loyal and Loving | A Thrushpelt and Bluestar one-shot

I tried to stick to canon with this, with Bluestar not truly loving Thrushpelt, but I may have strayed some lol. Let me know what you think, kinda went outside my comfort zone to make a one-shot.

Alternative reading links: Fanfiction AO3

Bluestar always wanted to be leader. To be the face of her clan, to lead through thick and thin. And going through the thick, it was glorious. It was painful at times, to remember what she had given up to do it, but being able to stand up on the Highrock, to look down at her allies, her warriors, her friends... it was comfortable, everything she had ever dreamed of. But going through the thin right now? It was agonizing. This leafbare was the most brutal one that she had ever experienced, with prey being extremely scarce and sickness ravaging the camp. And tales with the elders only confirmed, this one was the worst they had ever seen as well.

The conditions for kits was unbearable, and Robinwing's most recent litter had already lost two kits within a moon of their birth, while a third, named Ravenkit, was fighting greencough. Elders were starving, with Windflight's body unable to hold up with the lessened food, and passed on just a few nights ago. Adderfang, stubborn as a badger, refused to rest in brutal conditions, and eventually died of illness as well. Even Rosetail, her friend for most of her life, lost her entire litter to illness, and was ravaged so badly by greencough that she had to retire to the elder's den, her lungs too far damaged to keep up with a warrior's life anymore.

As much as she tried to remain strong, it was appearing near impossible with death and suffering was clawing its way through her Clan, intent on claiming every life within it. And sitting in her den, Bluestar tried to calm her breathing. They would get through these moons, to get to newleaf, where the snow melted, illness passed, and prey became plentiful again, but it was at a snail's pace, and how many more cats would they have to lose to get there?

"Bluestar?"

The voice of Spottedleaf made the leader blink, looking upward towards the beautiful dappled medicine cat. Usually, in any other condition, the presence of the tortoiseshell was comforting, her mood and intelligence always lightening the mood. But in times like these, it just made Bluestar's stomach tighten, with news of another cat dying or falling ill coming her way. And with the look of sorrow in her eyes, she suspected no different. But even so, she kept her face as straight as she could, her fur only bristling just a bit.

"It's.. Thrushpelt." That sweet voice meowed, and Bluestar let a shiver run through her fur. Thrushpelt was a... special cat. Not because he was extraordinary at anything, he was just generally.. good at everything, but he was a welcoming spirit to the Clan, his kindness never leaving him and his warm green eyes promising comfort. But also, he was her mate. Or at least, that's what they had the Clan believe.

Bluestar foolishly engaged with Riverclan's Oakheart when she was younger. Her heart would always belong with him, but she ended up pregnant with his kits, and in order to cover for herself, she needed a tom within the Clan to be her mate. And Thrushpelt, he was infatuated with her, and agreed without any further question. Which made it all the worse that she had to then give away her kits to Oakheart later, when the Clan needed a new deputy, and Thistleclaw would bring Thunderclan to ruins under his reign.

"Is he sick too?" Bluestar carefully asked, knowing that another sick warrior was the last thing they needed now, already being short on paws. And yet the sorrow-filled eyes of Spottedleaf only turned darker. "He's dying."

"What?" That made the leader jolt up to her paws, her body suddenly rigid after having been slumped over before. "H-How? He just went out on patrol, was there-" "There was no attack. Redtail and Lionheart had to drag him back to camp, he collapsed after a heavy coughing fit. I'm not sure if it's greencough, but.."

Bluestar blinked, her pelt suddenly feeling hot, the tips of her ears and tail burning, yet this warmth during leafbare was something she did not desire. She'd rather be cold and shivering than.. this. "He wants to see you, Bluestar. I've given him some medicine and some poppy seeds to ease his suffering, but.. it won't be much longer." Spottedleaf went on, and her tone went low as she explained, ears flattening just a bit.

There was almost no time for the leader to process all of this. Just a few seconds of thought, of realization, before she nodded to her medicine cat. "You did the right thing, Spottedleaf." Bluestar mewed, hoping her tone didn't sound too shrivel and was comforting enough as she began to pad past, out to the snow-filled camp. Apprentices were making fortifications to the camp, warriors were constantly on the move, measly morsels of prey in their mouths before they went right back out, elders and queens camped away in their dens. When the leader was spotted exiting her den, she could see a few cats dip their heads away, while others looked to her for guidance, for words of encouragement.

But there was nothing she could tell them now. Another cat was dying to this forsaken season, and she had to be there for his last moments. Leaping down from her den, she quickly padded over to Spottedleaf's den. "Bluestar, I-" Darkstripe began to speak up to her, but a hiss from the trailing medicine cat quieted him. The young warrior's words would have to wait, their leader was needed for a cat's final moments. And this one had to be the most bitter for her yet.

"Thrushpelt?" Bluestar called out gently, dipping her head into the den, the smell of herbs instantly hitting her in the face, but her tired eyes eventually caught the sight of the pale brown fur of the warrior, huddled up in a den of moss. "Bluestar..?" She could hear him call out in return, but it was practically a croak, and she quietly hissed. That was how Windflight sounded before he passed. How did this happen so quickly...

"I'm here, Thrushpelt, I'm here.." She meowed, walking forward and immersing herself fully into the den, seeing those light green eyes, like the grass of newleaf, open up and meet her gaze. Maybe in another life, she could find herself tantalized by that gaze, to fall in love with it. He was certainly a handsome tom, charming in his own way, and if he hadn't been so infatuated with her, he would've surely found himself a mate. But instead, he acted as hers, to keep her secret safe. He was loyal to a fault, and Bluestar could never thank him enough for it.

And now, at his side, Bluestar could see the extent of his illness. Green mucus was splattered on the ground next to the moss, his nose running and chin damp with drool. The brightness in his gaze had dimmed, and even while under the influence of those poppy seeds, his flank was still raising quickly, as though desperately sucking in air for damaged lungs. He was very sick, and the leader could hardly bare it. "Bluestar.. I'm sorry."

Thrushpelt apologized, and this time, the leader made sure her hiss was heard. "Don't apologize." She practically ordered him, and yet he continued to meow in a shriveled tone. "I knew I was sick... but I couldn't just stop. I couldn't bear to hear Robinwing's kits whine. The elders.. begging for prey. Apprentices working up frostbite. So.. I hid it."

"You acted valiantly, Thrushpelt, it's ok." Bluestar responded, laying her body down close to his, one of her paws pressing down over his. Her ears could pick up Spottedleaf gently backing out of the den, as though to give the two their final moments together. "Starclan will honor you. I promise."

A harsh cough then escaped from Thrushpelt's mouth, more green spit flying out, though thankfully the warrior had enough mind to turn his head away. As much as Bluestar wanted to be there for her warrior, she couldn't afford to get sick when she needed to be the beacon for the Clan. Though it still made her ears flatten to hear, her heart aching for the tom.

"I'm.. I'm not scared, Bluestar. I'm.. happy." He mewed softly, turning back to her once he wiped his muzzle with the moss of his bedding. "I get to see our kits again..." His eyes lit up just briefly at that, meeting Bluestar's gaze, and her heart sank. Guilt had always raked her heart over giving away her kits, not just because she was losing them, but because Thrushpelt was too.

He knew that they weren't his, and that he was merely to keep her secret affair with Oakheart safe. And yet he loved them, with all of his heart. She thought back to how her father treated her and Snowkit, when they were kits, and he almost never took enough time out of the day to truly see them. Bluestar loved her father and understood that he put his duties first, like she did in a way, but it was something heartwarming to see how good a father could be, with Thrushpelt. One could've never guessed that her kits wasn't his, with how much he loved them.

Anytime she needed a break, be it to stretch her legs and walk or just needing to relax after having three kits prod their growing claws against her belly, he was there. If they wanted to topple a fox, he played the biggest and baddest one. If Stonekit was the valiant leader, he was the most loyal warrior, ready to take any command.

And when she gave them away... when she had to tell Thrushpelt the lie, that a predator had scooped them away, it almost made her break, and tell him the truth instead, though she knew she couldn't. He looked, and looked, and looked. No other cat, not even Bluestar herself, looked as badly as he did. She could still remember the look of absolute sorrow in his eyes as he began to realize that they'd never find them. Just thinking of it made her gulp down any sound of sorrow.

And that was why she couldn't tell him now. As much as she wanted to, Bluestar knew that him passing would be far easier if he thought their kits were waiting for him, and she could only hope that he wouldn't be angry once he realized, even if he had all the right. At the very least, he'd have Mosskit, and she could only hope that that would satisfy him when he went. "Take good care of them... for us." She meowed, dipping her head close to his flank.

Did she love him? Well, she loved all of her clanmates, happily ready to sacrifice herself for any of them. But there was no denying that Thrushpelt.. he was special. Perhaps she wasn't in love with him, perhaps he wasn't truly the one for her, but she also couldn't deny that there was some semblance there. Acting as mates together, there had to be some level of acting in order to keep appearances. They'd join patrols together, eat prey together, share tongues, and he'd never ask for anything more. Perhaps in another life..

"I'll tell them.. all the tales of their mother." Thrushpelt croaked, ending his sentence with a sigh, as though it was difficult for him to let out. His time was coming closer, and Bluestar pushed her nose against his flank. To comfort him, to feel his breaths... to be close to him as Starclan began to take him.

"Oh. I can feel it.." He mewed, his body slowly beginning to tingle and shake, his mouth gaping and eyes widening. Starclan was coming to take him now, and Bluestar could only murmur sadly. As to bring him anymore comfort, to make his journey any easier, it was the least that she could do for him, for any of her cats who were dying in front of her.

"I'll miss you, Thrushpelt." She uttered. Just outside of him being the former father to her kits, he was a great warrior. His jaws always swelling with prey, his claws always meeting their mark, a kind soul that looked out for others and a stern face when there needed to be one. Thunderclan would certainly miss his presence, and getting through leafbare would be even more difficult without him, though her mind didn't linger on that at the moment. Right now, in Spottedleaf's den, it was just the two of them, in his final moments, with everything else outside not existing. Just for these minutes.

"Bl-Bluestar.." His voice had lowered even quieter, but Bluestar could just hear it, turning her head to see his gaze on her, green and blue eyes mingling together. "Get the clan.. through this.. I know you will.." He rasped, the emotion in those eyes unmistakable, even with his body weakening. "I'll.. always love you." He whispered in a hush, that adoration gleaming in his eyes, and she heard it loud and clear. Her heart tightened, and the leader stepped forward to push her muzzle against his forehead, her paw pressing down over his and a comforting rumble in her throat building next to his ears. "Rest.." She could only murmur, as to speak any louder would allow the crack of grief to be audible in her tone.

Silence filled the den for the next seconds, almost as though it were abandoned, before finally, Bluestar could feel that last shutter run through Thrushpelt, a mild gasp acting as his final breath, and his body finally still. Thrushpelt had passed. And the leader took the time to drag her tongue over his head, to take in his scent one last time, to groom him one last time. She'd give him this moment, to show him that she truly cared as he ascended to Silverpelt.

And when Spottedleaf peaked in, she only nodded her head to Bluestar, in a quiet understanding that.. Bluestar just wanted these few more minutes before they took out to the center of camp. To Spottedleaf and the rest of the clan, their leader would grieve for him as a mate. But for her, and for him, it'd be because of a deep bond that never turned romantic, but it was someone that Bluestar could never, and would never want to replace. He was there when she needed him, went far and beyond what she asked of him, and never faltered in his loyalty.

That was just the type of cat Thrushpelt was. Loyal and loving.

[softlighter]

The Roommate

written for @sparrowhawk-station‘s shapeshifter Blake prompt!  Hope you enjoy.  <3

Also posted as “The Roommate” on ao3.

“Yeah, I just found her,” Yang said into her Scroll.  

“Where?” Weiss asked, distaste clear in her voice.  “Off the street?”

“She was on my front porch!”

“That cannot be sanitary.”

“We gave her a bath at the vet’s,” Yang huffed.  The female cat she had dumbed Bumblebee for her dark black fur and bright gold eyes was currently napping on the arm of her couch.  Yang ran her fingers through her hair.  “And she got all her shots, and she’s not chipped, and if I didn’t take her in, she was getting sent to the kill shelter.  The kill shelter, Weiss!”

Weiss sighed through the phone.  “You’ve never even had a cat before!”

“There’s a first time for everything!” she chirped.  “I already got her food and a collar and a leash-”

“Yang.  She’s a cat.  You cannot walk a cat.”

“Watch me.”

Another sigh.  “You’re exhausting.”

“You’re not wrong,” she laughed.

A tight sigh.  “You know, when I said you needed a roommate, I didn’t mean the fluffy and furry kind.  I meant the people kind.”

“I don’t need a roommate,” she said automatically.  “It’s my house, Weiss, and it’s my life.  I’m fine.”

“You’re lonely.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.  “And I’m not lonely!  I’m talking to you!”

“Yes, but you only talk to me, Ruby, and Penny-”

“And Jaune, and Pyrrha, and Ren, and Nora-”

“You need to get out more,” Weiss interrupted.  “We need to get you back on the dating scene.”  

It was Yang’s turn to sigh, and she curled a lock of her hair around her finger.  “No, we do not,” she said as calmly as she could manage.  “I’m happy, and I’m fine.  Just because you’re happy in a relationship doesn’t mean I would be happy in a relationship.”  Her heart ached, but she ignored it.  She didn’t have time for a relationship, and that was that.  “Also, aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I’m the CEO, I do what I want,” Weiss sniffed.  Yang rolled her eyes, reclining deeper into her couch.  “But I do have a meeting in five minutes, so we’re going to have to make this quick.”  Weiss’s voice softened.  “I’m happy for you, Yang.”

Yang blew out a breath.  “Thanks, Weiss.”  She scratched Bumblebee’s furry head, who purred in her sleep.  It made Yang’s heart clench in the most pleasant way.  “And if I ever want to get back out there, you’re the first person I’d call, you know that.”

“I’m happily taken, thank you very much,” Weiss snarked.

“Don’t remind me,” Yang said, closing her eyes.  “I have no idea how those two sweethearts put up with you.”

“Because I’m a wonderful and very generous lover-”

“Gross, Weiss.  That’s my sister.”

She could hear Weiss cackling.  “Look, I have to go.  But I’ll be by later for dinner with Ruby and Penny.  We still good for six thirty?”

“Oh fuck, that’s tonight?”

“See you tonight, Yang.”  Weiss hung up before Yang could curse again.  She dropped her Scroll on the couch beside her and tilted her head back into the couch.  She eyed up Bumblebee, who was now awake and staring at her.  “We got a lot of work to do, Bee,” she said.  

Bumblebee meowed, and Yang sighed.  She held out her arm, and Bumblebee gracefully walked up her arm to place herself around Yang’s neck.  Yang stood up, her cat-scarf clinging to her as she moved.  “Wanna help me make dinner?” she asked.  Bumblebee meowed again, and Yang could feel the vibrations moving out from the feline and into Yang’s skin.  

They walked into the kitchen, and Bumblebee promptly leaped off of Yang to sit on the chair she had claimed earlier.  Miraculously, Yang hadn’t had to tell her to stay off the counters or the table.  Whoever had Bumblebee before her had trained her well.

Guilt twisted in her stomach as she studied her new cat.  Bumblebee was still malnourished and bruised from her last owner’s treatment.  Yang patted her cat’s head and gave her a smile as a silent apology.  Bumblebee purred, her head bopping against Yang’s hand.  She was soft, impossibly so.  Despite everything the cat had gone through, her fur hadn’t been matted, and Bumblebee was delightfully fuzzy.  

Yang nervously checked the clock and debated what to do for dinner.  Worst came to worst, she could order pizza for the four of them.  No one would complain about pizza, especially about the local pizzeria she ordered from at least once a month.  She checked her fridge and decided pizza was the way to go, even if Weiss would smirk about it.  

“Pizza it is, BeeBee,” she said.  Bumblebee meowed, daintily licking her paw.  She held herself impossibly regally, even though she was still injured.  

Yang had been surprised at how quickly the feline had warmed to her.  When Yang had first found her three days ago, she had been hissing and yowling.  Getting her to the vet had been a journey and a half and gotten her nothing but claw marks that still burned.  But she had looked into those golden eyes and known she couldn’t let the beautiful feline go to the kill shelter.  After that, it was almost like Bumblebee had known that Yang had saved her.  She wasn’t affectionate per se, but she wasn’t fighting her anymore and even let Yang pick her up.

In the past three days, Yang had taken to the cat like a moth to flame.  Bumblebee was a sweetheart when she wasn’t fighting Yang, and she loved it best when Bumblebee came to her and demanded pets, even if she asked for said pets at inopportune times.  Yang didn’t mind.  She needed a friend, even if she had told Weiss she didn’t.  

Weiss, Ruby, and Penny arrived just after pizza had been delivered.  “Kitty!” Penny cried out as greeting, immediately handing the wine she was holding off to Ruby before flapping her hands.  “Where’s the kitty?” 

Yang grinned.  “Come here, Bumblebee,” she said, crouching down to beckon the cat from underneath the table.  Bumblebee shrank away.  Yang cocked her head.  “Are you shy?” she asked.  “It’s okay, they’re just friends.”  Her voice was soft, and Bumblebee nervously stepped forward.  “Penny, come here, and hold your hand out.”

The redhead obliged, bending down beside Yang and tentatively holding her hand out with wide eyes.  Bumblebee looked to Yang, who nodded, before gently pressing her head to Penny’s hand.  Penny squealed, and Bumblebee shrunk back.  “No, I’m sorry!” Penny exclaimed softly.  “I just got excited!”

“She’s a little shy,” Yang said.  “She was hurt real bad before I got her.  I think she’s a little nervous around people.”  She started petting Bumblebee once more and smiled at her responding purr.  “But she’s a sweetheart.  Just be careful.”

Penny held out her hand once more, and Bumblebee bopped her hand.  “She’s so soft,” Penny marveled.  “I wish we could get a cat, but I don’t think Weiss could take all the fur getting everywhere.”  

Ruby giggled behind them, and Yang bit back a snort.  “We’re barely home, Penny,” Weiss said, clearly exhausted from already having this conversation.  “We don’t have the time to take care of a cat.”  

“You could get a fish?” Yang suggested.

Ruby clapped, and Weiss groaned.  “A fish would be delightful!” Penny declared, standing up and brushing her hands off on her skirt.  “We should get a fish.”

Weiss shot daggers at Yang, but Ruby just asked, “Where’s the food?”

“Let’s wash our hands and head into the kitchen,” she said, dragging Penny away from Bumblebee.  

“I thought you said she was clean,” Weiss asked warily.

“You should always wash your hands before dinner,” Yang said, rubbing her hands together underneath the faucet.  Weiss wrinkled her nose, and Yang stuck her tongue out at her.  “Lighten up, Weiss.  Bumblebee’s a good cat.”

“You’ve had her for three days,” Weiss said curtly.  

“Best three days of my life!” she shot back as she sat down and helped herself to a slice of pizza.  She moaned around the cheesy bread, suddenly aware of how hungry she was.  She swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  “How was everyone’s day?” she asked, taking a sip of her water.

“It was a pretty slow day today,” Penny said.  “No calls for me, thankfully!”  Penny may be small, but she was the strongest firefighter in all of Vale.  There had been a competition, and Penny had blown her competitors out of the water.  

“That’s good that it was a quiet day.  My meetings went well,” Weiss said.  “They were a complete headache, but they went well at least.  We’re moving ahead on some new technology, which should be a real asset.  What about you, Ruby?”

“I’m heading to the restaurant later, but I spent most of the day working on new recipes,” her sister said.  “I can’t quite get the spices right, but I’m getting close.”  Ruby’s eyes flicked to her.  “What about you, Yang?  What did you do today?”

“Hung with BeeBee,” she said casually.  “Nothing much.”

Penny, Weiss, and Ruby managed to exchange a look, which Yang still marveled at their ability to do so, even when it grated on her.  “Did you go to physical therapy today?” Penny asked gently, but that wasn’t enough to soften the blow of her words.

“Nope,” she said too casually.  “I didn’t have an appointment today.  I usually go on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“So did you go yesterday?” Weiss asked, raising an arched brow.

“Yes,” she gritted.  

“Good!” Ruby said, clapping.  “That’s really good, Yang.  How are you doing?”

She felt all of their gazes pointedly ignoring the elephant in the room and refusing to look at her right arm.  She clenched her fist as she folded her pizza in half and brought it to her mouth to buy herself time.  The metal of her hand creaked quietly, and she brought her arm back down to her lap to avoid dealing with their acute avoidance.  

“I’m doing good,” she said.  “Making progress.”  She hesitated, but added, “They think I’ll be good to go back to work in the fall.”  

“And do you want to go back to work?” Weiss asked.  

“I need to do something productive with my life,” she said tightly.  She gestured around.  “I’m going nuts doing nothing.”  She had spent far too many days lounging on the couch and moping about.  At least she was moving again, leaving the house again.  

“What’re you gonna do about Bumblebee when you go back to work?” Penny asked.  

Yang shrugged.  “She’s pretty self-sufficient.  She just needs me to feed her.”  Bumblebee was inclined to roam the house, but she did usually stay in the same room as Yang.  “I think she would be all too happy to get me out of the house and have it all to herself for a couple hours.”

“This is why you should have gotten a dog!” Ruby said.  “No offense to Bumblebee, but dogs are way more loyal!  They wait for you to come home!  They’re total sweethearts!”

“Yeah, but Bumblebee is cuter than any dog,” she pointed out.

Ruby gasped, holding a hand to her forehead and sagging against Penny, who merely giggled at her girlfriend.  “Don’t let Zwei hear you say that!” her sister warned.  “He’ll never forgive you.”

Yang rolled her eyes, but she was glad the conversation had drifted from her to a safer topic.  Bumblebee curled around her ankles, purring.  Yang smiled and leaned down to scratch the top of her head.  “Zwei loves me, and so does Bumblebee,” she said.  “All animals love me.”

Weiss snorted.  “I haven’t forgotten about that bird that pooped on you,” she said.

“That was six years ago!” she said.  Bumblebee pulled closer to her ankle, and Yang lowered her voice.  “And that was one bird, ages ago.”  Bumblebee purred again, nuzzling her ankle once more.  Her cat still wasn’t used to loud noises, she had noticed, and it was hard to remember to keep her usually loud voice quieter, but she was trying.  

“It shat in your hair.  I’m never letting you live that down,” Weiss smirked.

Yang groaned.  “Six.  Years.  Ago.  And don’t remind me,” she said, pulling her hair over her shoulder in a comforting motion.  “My hair didn’t deserve that.”

The table broke out in laughter, and a smile tugged at her lips.  Life was good.  Life was really good.  

~~~

She woke up to tiny cries.  Yang sat up, instantly moving for Bumblebee who was yowling at the edge of her bed.  Yang scooped her up in her arms and began shushing her, gently stroking her fuzzy head.  “It’s okay,” she breathed.  “It’s all okay.”

Bumblebee was shaking in her hands and still yowling at the top of her tiny lungs.  She was trying to scratch Yang, but it was more out of panic than out of malice.  “It’s okay,” she said.  “I got you now.  No one’s gonna hurt you now.  I promise.”  She kept stroking her head until her cries died down and Bumblebee’s tiny body wasn’t shaking half so badly.  Yang gently laid Bumblebee in her lap and watched as she curled up.

Her throat was thick, and she whispered, “It’s okay.  I get nightmares too,” she whispered.  Bumblebee meowed, as if she was trying to respond.  Yang chuckled.  “They’re the worst, aren’t that?” 

Bright wide gold eyes looked up at her, catching the moonlight.  A small nod of that fuzzy head.  Yang gave her cat a half-smile.  “I’m sorry someone hurt you,” she said.  Bumblebee nuzzled her hand, but Yang continued.  “Someone hurt me, too.”  Her throat thickened, and she was acutely aware of the absent weight of her metal arm.  

Bumblebee stood on her hind legs to look Yang in the eyes.  “But we’re together now, and we’re not gonna let anyone hurt us ever again.  Aren’t we?”  Bumblebee nodded, as if she could understand.  Yang smiled.  “I’ll protect you, BeeBee.”  She held her cat tight to her chest and closed her eyes.  “I’ll protect you.  You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”  Bumblebee purred, and she gave Yang’s cheek a quick lick.  Yang laughed, wiping her cheek.  

“We should get some sleep,” she said.  “The nightmares can’t last forever.”  She hoped.  

But Bumblebee purred and nuzzled her cheek.  Yang let herself fall back against the mattress, still holding the dark cat.  “I’m a cuddler,” she warned.  Bumblebee simply purred again, settling down on the space of mattress in front of Yang’s chest.  “You can wake me up, though.  If you have nightmares.”  She yawned.  “I might wake you up with mine.”

Bumblebee cocked her head.  Yang just smiled tightly.  “But don’t worry, BeeBee.  I’ll take care of you.”  Gold eyes blinked at her, and that was the last thing Yang saw before she closed her eyes.  “I promise.  I’ll take care of you.”  She would protect Bumblebee.  She could do that much.  Even if she had lost her arm.  Even if she had lost herself for a while.

She could do that much.

~~~

Yang let out a grunt of frustration as she held the plank, sucking in her breath.  Thirty more seconds, according to her timer.  She could do another thirty seconds.  She gritted her teeth and forced herself to take a deep breath of air as she felt her shaking worsen.  Twenty seconds.  Fifteen.  Ten.

She collapsed to the ground with a groan.  “Fuck!” she spat, flopping onto her side.  Yang grabbed her Scroll and ended the timer with a sigh before placing it back on the floor beside her.  She would try again in a few minutes, but, for now, her core ached, and she needed a breather.  She needed a break.  

No, what she needed was her fucking body back.  What she needed was her strength back.  What she needed was herself back.

A fuzzy tail brushed her ankle, and Yang let out a sharp breath as Bumblebee came up to snuggle.  “You still like me, at least,” she muttered.  Bumblebee meowed, and a smile tugged at the corners of Yang’s mouth.  She sat up and started scratching behind her ears, just where she knew BeeBee liked it best.  

Bumblebee gave her wide eyes, as if asking Why wouldn’t I like you?  You feed me and blinked at her slowly.  Yang sighed, running a hand through her own hair.  “I’m not as strong as I used to be,” she explained.  Her chin wobbled.  “I’m weak.  And I need to get strong again.”

BeeBee meowed, her cute face scrunching up to bare her teeth.  Yang rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, Weiss says the same thing,” she said.  “But I want to feel comfortable in my skin again.  If that’s possible.”  She sighed, shoulders slumping.  Bumblebee pawed her arm and climbed up onto her shoulders.  Yang smiled as the feline nuzzled her neck.  “Thanks, BeeBee.”

She bent forward and stretched out her legs and back, Bumblebee still curled around her neck like a scarf as she moved.  Her lower back crackled and popped, but it felt better as she straightened up.  Her Scroll buzzed, and she carefully grabbed it as to not disturb Bumblebee too much as she answered the call.  “Hey, what’s up?”

“We got a fish!” Ruby announced.

Yang smiled, letting out a breath.  “Only took four months of arguing,” she teased.

“Shut it, Xiao Long!” Weiss called in the background.  

“His name is Barry the Beta Fish, and I love him very much,” Penny added.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” she said as BeeBee purred around her neck.  

“Do you want to come over later for dinner?” Ruby asked.  

Yang pretended to think for a moment.  “Are you cooking?”

“I will!” Ruby said.

“Then I’ll be there.  What time works?”

“How about five?”

“Sounds good to me.  I’ll see you then!”  Yang hung up and nuzzled Bumblebee as she pulled up her timer once more.  “Alright, BeeBee, let me get back to work,” she said, taking Bumblebee from around her neck and placing her on the floor.  Bumblebee hissed, but she strode off, tail waving in the air before settling down in front of Yang’s yoga mat.  Yang resumed her position and started the timer once more.

She forced a grin at BeeBee, who meowed in response.  Almost as if she was cheering her on.  It made Yang’s grin grow.  She adjusted her position and held her core tight, taking deep breaths.  She could do this.  She could definitely do this.

~~~

Yang unlocked her door, humming as she did.  She turned and closed it behind her as she took her shoes off and set them by the door.  She had left Ruby’s, Weiss’s, and Penny’s early because she had forgotten that she had to get up early for physical therapy.  Normally, she stayed until late, but the sun was still out, although it was setting.

She dropped her keys in the dish and strode into the kitchen.  Yang froze.  “Who the fuck are you?” she asked, voice shaking.  The dark hair woman digging in her fridge stilled at Yang’s voice.  “How did you get in here?”

The woman turned around, gold eyes wide.  “You’re not supposed to be home for at least another hour,” she said.  Her voice was a throaty rasp, as if she hadn’t spoken in ages.  

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” she demanded, ignoring how the woman knew her well enough to know her schedule.  “How did you get in here?”

The woman audibly swallowed.  She was shaking, Yang realized.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

Yang’s heart softened at her broken tone, but that didn’t stop the fear sparking through her.  She looked her up and down and checking for any weapons.  She was unarmed and, oddly, pantless.  Yang’s stomach clenched.  The woman was wearing her shirt.  “What the fuck?” she heard herself say.  

The woman’s throat bobbed.  There was a flash of light, and the woman was gone.  In her place sat Bumblebee, who was shaking.  Yang blinked, eyes burning from the light, but before she could get accustomed to it, the woman was back with another flash of light.  “I’m so sorry, Yang,” the woman croaked.

“What the actual fuck?”

The woman was shaking harder.  “I didn’t want you to find out like this,” she said.  Yang’s mouth was dry.  “I thought you wouldn’t be home for a while longer, and I was just so sick of having to drink out of a bowl, and I just wanted a cup of tea.  I’m sorry.”

Yang blinked.  “Are you my cat?”

The woman, or Bumblebee, tentatively nodded.  

“What the fuck?”  Bumblebee flinched, and Yang became distinctly aware of how loud she was speaking.  “I’m sorry, but what the fuck is going on?” she asked, lowering her voice slightly.  She was still angry, still confused, but she couldn’t unsee the woman’s winces in contrast with the way Bumblebee had shook whenever it got too loud.

“Maybe we should sit down,” Bumblebee said.

Yang silently took a seat at her kitchen table, never taking her eyes off of Bumblebee.  Bumblebee took a seat across from her.  “What the fuck is going on?” she asked again.  Her own voice was shaking, and she wasn’t quite sure why.  “What is happening?”

The woman took a deep breath.  “My name is Blake,” she said.  “I’m a shapeshifter.”

Yang’s mouth dried up.  “Alright.”  She nodded.  “Shapeshifters are real.  Alright.  That’s fine.  And apparently my cat is one.  This is totally fine.”  Panic edged her voice, but she nodded at the woman, Blake, to continue.

“I never meant to- I didn’t want to hurt you.”  

“Why the fuck were you pretending to be a cat?” she demanded.  “My cat?”

Blake took a deep breath.  “You saw how badly I was hurt,” she said.  Yang stilled as Blake continued.  “My ex-boyfriend beat me.  I had to get away from him, and I did the only thing I could.  So I shifted and ran away, and I ended up here.  I didn’t have a plan, I just needed to get away from him.  But I was in so much pain, and I wound up on your porch barely able to move.  And you took me in.”  Blake’s throat bobbed.

“You took me in, and you protected me, and you took care of me.”  Blake’s golden eyes flickered, so similar to Bumblebee’s and yet so different.  “I had planned on leaving once I was better, but you seemed to need a friend.”  Yang’s cheeks heated, although she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger.  “And I wanted to repay you as best I could.”

“So you pretended to be my pet?”  Her stomach tightened.  “Did you understand me when I was speaking to you?”

Blake nodded, biting her lip.  “I did,” she said quietly.  

“And what?  Did you- Do you pity me?” she asked.

“I wanted to repay you!”  Blake rubbed her brow.  “You helped me, and I wanted to help you, and being Bumblebee seemed to help you.”

“What was your long term plan here?” she demanded.  “Just pretend to be a cat until you died?”

“Obviously, I didn’t have a long term plan!” Blake said.  “I just- You helped me  And I wanted to help you.”  

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she snarled.

Blake winced.  “I know.  And I never wanted to hurt you, Yang, I just- I didn’t know what to do.”  Her voice was pleading.  “I was scared.”

Yang faltered.  She took a deep breath and leaned back against her chair with a sigh.  “What do you want to do now?” she asked wearily.  “Because you don’t owe me anything, Blake.”

“But I do,” she said softly.  “You saved my life, Yang.  In ways more than one.”  Blake’s throat bobbed.  “And I’ll leave if you want me to.”

Yang looked up at her.  “You don’t have anywhere to go.”  It wasn’t a question, but Blake nodded.  Yang sighed.  “You can stay here,” she said.  “

Blake froze.  “What?”

She shrugged.  “You don’t have anywhere to go,” she repeated.  “And I have a guest room.  You can stay here and get back on your feet.”  Her throat thickened.  “You can be whatever you want.  Bumblebee, or you, or whatever, you can be a human or cat.  But you can stay here.”

“I can leave,” Blake said, but she was biting her lip.

“I’m not letting you go back on the street again,” she said.  “And you’ve already been living here for six months.”  She flexed her fingers.  “I can help you get back on your feet, and then you can do whatever you want.”

Blake nodded, but she looked ashamed.  “I’m sorry, Yang.”

Yang just shrugged.  “I’m going to bed,” she said flatly.  “I have physical therapy early tomorrow.”  She hesitated.  “Do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Blake said instantly.

“Don’t leave the house.  I don’t have a spare key to give you, and the locks are automatic.  If you get locked out, you’re locked out until I get back.”  She rubbed her temples.  “And I have some pjs for you.”

“Sorry about the shirt,” Blake said.  “I just didn’t want to walk around naked.”

“I get that,” she said awkwardly.  She stood up.  “I’ll put your stuff in the guest room.”

“Thank you, Yang.”

Yang just pursed her lips and nodded, all too aware of the awkwardness.  “Yup.  No problem,” she said.  She awkwardly walked out of the kitchen and closed the door to her room.

What the fuck was she going to do?

~~~

She woke up to the smell of bacon.  Her stomach grumbled, and she practically ran out of bed into the kitchen to see Blake cooking.  Somewhere, she had found an apron, and she was standing over a spitting pan and flipping pancakes.  “Oh, you’re awake,” Blake said, turning to face her.  “I wanted to surprise you.”

Yang blinked at her.  “You’re making me breakfast?” she asked slowly.  “You didn’t have to do that.”  Even if her stomach was grumbling and she was ravenous and it was nice to wake up to someone cooking her breakfast.  It was weird, it was so damn weird.  

Blake just shrugged.  “It was the least I could do,” she said.  Blake bit her lip.  “You’ve made me breakfast for the past few months.  I wanted to repay the favor.”

“You really didn’t have to,” she said.  

“I wanted to.”  Blake gave her a tentative smile, and Yang’s stomach flipped.  Brothers, she was beautiful.  She gave a tiny shake of her head, as if to chase the thoughts away.  Blake had been her cat for six months.  She should not be thinking about how stunning she was, even if she was in human form.  But Yang couldn’t deny Blake’s beauty.

She swallowed hard and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot Blake had made.  “Thank you,” she said quietly, awkwardly.  “I appreciate it.”

Blake just nodded and gave her a small smile.  

~~~

“So how did you meet Yang?” Weiss asked, eyes cutting between them.

Yang’s eyes flicked to Blake, who nodded.  They had gone over this.  “We met in physical therapy,” Blake said easily.  

“Funny, Yang never mentioned you.”  Weiss’s icy eyes narrowed to slits.  “And you just moved in because?”

“Yang is doing me a solid,” Blake said.  “I- My ex kicked me out of our apartment.”  Another lie, one they hadn’t discussed.  “I needed a place to stay, and Yang was kind enough to offer up her guest room.  She’s a really great person, and she’s really helping me out.”

“Yang is a really great person!” Penny agreed brightly.  

Yang took a deep drink of her wine.  This had been a horrible idea, but she had no way of hiding that she suddenly had a roommate, and she wasn’t going to force Blake to stay in cat form when Weiss, Ruby, and Penny came over.  A dinner with the five of them had been a horrible idea, but they were getting through it.  Even if Weiss was suspicious as all hell and grilling Blake within an inch of her life.

“This salmon is really good,” she said, shoveling another bite into her mouth.

Ruby beamed.  “Thank you!”

“And how long do you think you’ll be staying here?” Weiss asked.

Yang shot her a pointed look, but Blake just straightened her shoulders and said, “I’m working on getting an apartment already.”

Weiss nodded and took a drink of water.  

“Alright, enough of the interrogation,” Yang said, only half-joking.  “How was your guys’ day?  What did you all do today?”

“We rescued a cat from a tree today!” Penny said with a smile.  “She was so cute, and she was so scared!  I felt so bad.  But we managed to get her down and back to her family.”  Penny’s braid flipped over her shoulder as she turned towards Yang with a tilted head.  “Any word on BeeBee?”

Yang shook her head.  “No word.”  She had told them that BeeBee had run out the door and disappeared.  They had put signs up over town with pictures of Bumblebee.  It was Blake’s secret to tell, and either way, she wasn’t sure how her sister and her girlfriends would take the news that shapeshifters existed and that magic was real.  It was the safer option, for both of their sakes, to not tell them.  Still, it felt wrong to lie to them, and Yang took another sip of her wine.

Penny’s face faltered.  “I’m sorry, Yang,” she said gently.  “I know you really loved her.”

“I do,” she said.  She felt Blake’s gaze on her.  “But I have no doubt that, wherever she ends up, she’ll be okay.  BeeBee is a fighter.”  Blake smiled tightly at her, and Yang nodded back.  “She’ll be okay.”

Weiss cleared her throat.  “On a lighter note,” she said, “I’m glad you two are living together.”

“Really?” Yang, Ruby, Blake, and Penny all said in unison.  

“I am!”  Weiss’s eyes narrowed before softening.  “You’re taking care of her?” she asked Blake.

“I don’t need to be taken care of!” she snapped.

“Yes,” Blake said with a wry smile.  “I’m doing my best.”

Yang glared at Blake and Weiss, but there was no venom in it.  In truth, Blake had been taking care of her.  She made them breakfast and dinner every day, even though Yang had told her countless times over the past few weeks that she didn’t have to.  In truth, it was nice.  

“Good,” Weiss said, apparently satisfied.  

Yang looked over at Blake and gave her a tight smile, and Blake smiled back.

~~~

“Hey, hey!”  

Yang’s eyes snapped open, and she was all too aware of the hands on her shoulders.  She jerked out of her grasp and sat up, pulling the covers to her chest.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, taking deep breaths.

Blake’s gold eyes glinted in the moonlight.  “You were screaming, Yang.”  

“Oh.”  Her throat thickened.  She brushed her off.  “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit, you’re fine.”  Blake sighed.  “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but don’t lie to me, Yang.”

“I just had a nightmare,” she mumbled.  “It’s fine.  I’m fine.”

Blake ran a hand through her hair, and then there was a flash of light that briefly blinded Yang.  Bumblebee was staring up at her and headbutted Yang’s hand.  

“What?”

But Blake pushed her down to the bed, and Yang groaned.  “I am not cuddling you,” she said.  Blake rubbed her head underneath Yang’s neck, almost as if to say Then I’ll cuddle you.  Yang sighed, and she begrudgingly accepted Blake into her arms.

“This is so damn weird, you know that?” she said before closing her eyes.  Blake just purred, settling on the mattress.  She rolled her eyes, but before she knew it, she was asleep.

~~~

Yang woke up with Blake in her arms.  It was how she had woken up every morning for the past two weeks, ever since she had had that nightmare and Blake had transformed back into a cat to cuddle.  During the night, Blake often wound up transforming back into a human, and at this point they got ready for bed together, and Blake just slept in her bed in her human form.  It was weird, it was so damn weird, but it worked.

“You know, you can stay here,” she said one morning over breakfast.  She swallowed the bite of pancakes, ignoring Blake’s stillness.  “If you want.  You can stay here.”

“Yang, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” she said gently.  “You help me, and you’re kind, and sweet, and maybe I want you here.”  She gave Blake a weak smile.  “I want you here, if you want to be here.”

Blake’s throat bobbed.  “I’d like that,” she said quietly.

~~~

“Hey, Blake?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I take you out?”  Yang swallowed hard.  “You know, like on a date?”  Her palm was sweating, and she wasn’t looking at Blake.  

Blake laughed softly.  “I thought you’d never ask.”

[bird--egg]

LOOMING SUNLIGHT Chapter Three

The link to the AO3 version of this chapter here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30351717/chapters/75897176

Waking up was always a chore when the temperature outside made it tempting to lay around aimlessly. Cedar chose to wake up before the sun had properly risen, especially since it meant the weather was slightly cool. She felt a strong burst of longing towards Shadowclan, whose warriors were generally asleep during the morning and midday and awake during dusk and night.

Stretching, Cedar poked her head out of the elders den warily. Most of the camp was sleeping soundly and she felt confident enough to move further outside, yawning silently. She licked her white forepaw and groomed herself slowly, tension unwinding as she watched the sun rise. Tigerpetal emerged from the tangled hedge that made up the medicine den, stretching dramatically before entering the leaders den. Cedar wondered what the medicine cat was doing talking to the leader so early on.

Her ears flicked towards a sound behind her and she noticed a black pelted cat approaching. Their eyes were a very vibrant green and one of their ears was crooked. What was their name? Cedar wondered a tad anxiously as it became apparent that they were coming to talk to her.

“Hey kit.” They meowed sleepily. Cedar squinted, offended at being called a kit. “You and Mothscar got a job today?”

“Not that I know. You should ask my mentor.” Seemed improper to ask an apprentice-or a ‘helper’ what they would be doing for the day without the mentors input.  The black cat blinked.

“I can’t, Mothscar needs his beauty sleep.” Beauty sleep? Cedar tilted her head slightly in confusion. Emerging from the elder’s den, Mothscar laughed.

“If I’m aiming for beauty than I’m afraid I’ll be asleep long enough to wake up and see Larkkit’s ceremony.” Mothscar walked up to the two cats, nudging the lanky cat affectionately.

“Cedarpaw, this is Newtpool. We left Riverclan together when they were just a kit.” Cedar wondered what Mothscar had been doing leaving Riverclan with a kitten, the two were clearly not related. She suddenly faintly remembered her father Ridgesnarl complaining about ‘picky’ Riverclan cat’s. At the time she’d been confused at Ridgesnarl’s disgust, but perhaps pickiness was more specific to kicking out cats who weren’t good enough?

Newtpool glanced at the older white tom with an oddly neutral face, seeming to have a silent conversation with him. Mothscar just continued to smile placidly.

“Mothscar!” Tigerpetal yelled as she was exiting the leader’s den. She completely ignored Newtpool, walking in front of the lanky cat. Newtpool rolled their eyes to Cedar, who just stared back.

“You and your helper are coming to the gathering tonight. But there’s a couple caveats to your presence being allowed.” Behind her, Newtpool puffed out their chest and was pointing their nose in the air in a way that did kind of remind Cedar of the way Tigerpetal was looking down at her. She concentrated very hard on staring neutrally at the medicine cat.

“You’re not to tell anyone where you’re from, and don’t go conversing about your helper position.”

“Well, that seems silly.” Purred Mothscar. “Why wouldn’t we want the other clans to her about our new position? Maybe they have some kits they’d want to keep from becoming apprentices too.”

Tigerpetal’s lip raised slightly, showing gleaming white teeth. There was a long drawn-out silence as the medicine cat and the elder stared each other down, and Cedar couldn’t help but notice the chatter of cats waking up had completely drawn to a halt. Her ears pressed against her head, and she wished that she was beside Newtpool or at least behind Mothscar instead of in front of Tigerpetal.

Finally, Tigerpetal let out a low growl. “Mind yourself, Mothscar. The ice you’re walking on is getting thin.” Mothscar said nothing, simply looking at the ginger tabby with a friendly expression. Tigerpetal tail lashed once, before she stalked away to the medicine den.

“Newtpool!” She yowled from inside the den. “Get your tail over here!” Newtpool looked dismayed, shooting Mothscar a grumpy glare.

“Great.” They meowed, “Now she’ll have a burr in her pelt all day. And who has to deal with her?”

“NEWTPOOL!”

“I’m coming!” They yelled back, stomping away to join their mentor. Mothscar’s posture slumped slightly.

“Poor Newtpool.” He joked, looking back to his apprentice, whose fur was puffed out and eyes wide. She had no idea why Mothscar kept pushing his luck when it came to her status. Did he just hate Rootstar so much he would oppose his rules whenever he could? Would Tigerpetal really hurt an elder? Could she even, as a medicine cat? Was that…allowed?

Seeming to accept that she wasn’t going to say anything, Mothscar flicked her lightly with his tail.

“Let’s go see if we can find some moss.”

--

 By the time the sun had started to go down, Cedar was full of nervous energy. Going to the gathering felt like an opportunity, but for what she wasn’t sure. To escape? Was the situation bad enough that leaving it would be escaping?

And even so, what clan would want her? She was wary of Riverclan because of the conclusions she’d drawn with Mothscar and Newtpool, but would Thunderclan take her? What if they were worse? She had no idea what was considered normal behavior towards a cat living in your camp who was from an enemy clan.

Besides, what if they punished Mothscar for her betrayal?

A paw poked her shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. She turned to see Willowpaw’s grass-coloured eyes shining at her. She moved back slightly.

“Hey Cedar!” He chirped happily. “Me and Stormfang are supposed to be pairing up with you at the gathering! And I’m even allowed to call you Cedarpaw!” Cedar felt like he could have said that last part a little quieter, because Stormfang immediately left her conversation to glower at her apprentice. Cedar left the Willowpaw to his scolding, briefly hearing his voice squeak out ‘you said I could though!’.

Cloverpaw was waiting by the entrance of camp, watching her mentor with tired eyes. Pigeonflight was talking loudly to Marigoldfur, who couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable. Cloverpaw glanced at Cedar but seemed too worn out to snap at the she-cat. Cedar wondered what training Pigeonflight was making Cloverpaw to cause her to look so run down.

They both sat beside the other completely silently, watching Pigeonflight fail to flirt like they were spectating. As the grey tabby accidentally implied that Marigoldfur’s brother was stupid, Cedar flicked her ear. “Yikes.” She meowed simply, and Cloverpaw snorted before looking at the dark grey she-cat with shock.

“Cedar.” Stormfang called, walking with a pouting Willowpaw. Cedar looked away from Cloverpaw’s blue and green eyes. She followed Willowpaw, feeling Mothscar follow her out of camp. Most of the clan left for the gathering in order to look like they had more cats than they actually did. Since Shadowclan was out of the picture, Windclan no longer had to worry about their camp being ambushed while away. The whole trip to four-trees Willowpaw talked her ear off, often stumbling as he tried to walk and look behind him at the same time. Meanwhile, Cedar was interested in watching Windclan’s long grass slowly become shorter as they approached Riverclan. She could even see the edge of Shadowclan’s burnt pines, which made her throat close up. He forced herself to look instead at Four-trees, which wasn’t totally undamaged either. The fire seemed to have badly burnt the tree closest to Shadowclan, but the other three were slightly singed as well.

Between the trees was more cats than Cedar had ever seen. Her eyes widened as she tried to take in the number of bodies packed into a relatively small space. Willowpaw also seemed shocked, tail shooting straight up in the air as he let out a small ‘meep’. Cedar slowed her pace so she could walk directly beside Mothscar, who seemed amused at her surprise.

Windclan seemed the last to arrive at the gathering. Most cats seemed to be sticking with their own clans, murmuring with each other. Cedar noticed that Windclan moved as a unit, barely spreading out and heading right beside Thunderclan.

“Everyone seems spooked.” Mothscar noticed, eyes flicking to Shadowclan’s burnt tree before returning to the crowd. Cedar grunted noncommittally. She’d never been to another gathering.

“So we just sit here?” She asked, and Mothscar looked a little surprised that she had spoken, before shaking his head.

“No, not normally. Young cats like yourself often talk to the other young cats of every clan.” He paused, and meowed “Stick with Thunderclan cats for now though. They’re the ones that don’t smell like fish.” Cedar nodded hesitantly, stepping away from the white elder slowly. Social interactions were not especially her strong suit. She had little time to worry about it before an orange tabby stumbled into her. The fire coloured apprentice whirled around to face Cedar, fur oddly spiky without being raised.

“Hey, a Windclan cat!” They meowed excitedly, tail lashing. “Wow you look really grumpy!” She added on belatedly. Cedar was not aware of what face she was making and attempted to shift it to a more friendly look. The Thunderclan apprentice flinched back before laughing uproariously. Willowpaw padded towards them, waving his tail at her as he sat near them.

“Hi! I’m Willowpaw, and this is Cedarpaw. What’s your name?”

“I’m Robinpaw.” Robinpaw announced, bowing with flourish. Willowpaw giggled, delighted. Cedar stood awkwardly, glad Willowpw had introduced her.

“This is my second gathering, and I haven’t seen you guys before. You must be new apprentices huh?” She asked, whiskers twitching. “Little tiny babies? Sparrows just leaving the nest??” Willowpaw mroowed with laughter.

“A sparrow? Can we be a cooler bird than that?” He asked happily, and Robinpaw opened her mouth to reply when the leaders yowled for the gathering to start. The clans fell quiet, turning to face what trees were left.

Rootstar was sitting proudly on the Great Rock, startling larger than the other leaders. Beside him was an older looking she-cat with a pale sun coloured pelt and amber eyes. She had several vicious battle scars on her but looked bored even as she was standing to begin speaking to all the cats gathered in front of her. Leaping up the Great Rock was a silver tabby with sharp looking white patches. Her eyes were yellow like the flowers in the meadow, but she looked decidedly more unpleasant. Something about their expression felt like fire against Cedar’s fur.

“Do you mind if I start?” The silver leader asked the other two. Rootstar flicked his tail in a ‘go on’ motion, looking slightly annoyed. Robinpaw leaned into Cedar’s vision, whispering: “The creepy grey cat is Troutstar. And the cat with all the cool scars is Sandstar, Thunderclan’s leader.”

“Why not.” Sandstar snorted, and Troutstar ignored the sarcasm in her voice, stepping forward.

“Riverclan has done well this moon. Despite the heat the river is running well, and food is plentiful. We had no trouble with the fire, as the river protected us.” Cats murmured uneasily as Troutstar casually mentioned the fire, and Cedar gritted her teeth.

“Rockshade has given birth to two kits, and we’ve chased some troublesome rouges off our land.” At this, Sandstar stepped forward. Troutstar shot the other leader and icy look, which Sandstar ignored.

“Speaking of troubling rouges, could Riverclan please stop chasing away their own members? It’s getting depressing to watch.” Cedar’s ears flicked, glancing backwards at her mentor, who looked vaguely troubled. Troutstar scoffed.

“Your mistaken if you think Thunderclan has any rights to command anything of Riverclan.”

“I’m commanding nothing; but I think most of us know that a stable clan shouldn’t be running off loyal clanmates.” At this, Troutstar’s whole bearing changed, fur laying flat and posture loosening.

“Thank you for the suggestion Sandstar. May I ask how your own clan is doing in these hot temperatures?” She asked, tilting her head. Sandstar looked at the other leader with lidded eyes, almost amused. Cedar swore she almost heard the older leader mutter ‘flawless transition’ to themselves before speaking to the clans at large.

“Thunderclan is doing fine. The shade helps the temperature feel more bearable.” And with that, she sat down. Rootstar took this to be his cue, coming to stand beside Sandstar.

“Windclan has new apprentice’s joining it’s ranks, Cloverpaw and Willowpaw.” The rest of the cats repeated the names to varying degrees of enthusiasm, but Robinpaw gave Cedar a confused look. Pelt prickling, Cedar pretended not to see. Why hadn’t Rootstar just lied and named her as well? Wouldn’t excluding her just be more suspicious as more cats began to recognize her and learn her name?

“Prey is doing well, and we’ve fond the heat quite unbothersome.” Rootstar lied, looking unbothered and smug.

“But enough of that. I’m sure we’re all aware of the fire that raged in Shadowclan territory this moon. Shadowclan’s lack of presence here tonight is telling, and I feel it’s reasonable to assume they were either chased off the land by the fire or…” Even Rootstar’s hate for Shadowclan seemed to falter for a moment. Sandstar shook her head softly.

“We will mourn for Shadowclan if they are gone. It is an unprecedented tragedy in Clan history, to have an entire clan taken from us.” There was a deep and painful silence as the gathered cat’s absorbed the implications of Shadowclan’s loss. Cedar, meanwhile, was digging her claws into the dirt. She felt the heat of the flames flickering around her, and worse, heard the laughter and chatter of clanmates who might be-

“While this is true,” Troutstar meowed, looking unmoved “Their land needs to be divided among us.” At this Sandstar turned to the other leader, looking angrier than she had the rest of the gathering.

“Until Starclan gives us confirmation that Shadowclan is gone, we shall. Do. No. Such. Thing.” She hissed out fiercely, pelt raising and looking ready to strip the flesh off of Troutstar. Troutstar’s ears flattened, and she almost took a step back, before standing her ground. After a moment of silence, the silver leader smiled pleasantly.

“I can agree to this, for now. If there is no news in the next three moons, Riverclan will take it’s claim of territory.” And with this announcement Troutstar leapt from the Great Rock, Riverclan hurriedly following their leader.

“Wow that was eventful!” Willowpaw meowed nervously, looking guiltily towards Cedar. Robinpaw nodded, bouncing slightly.

“No kidding! I thought Sandstar was gonna shove Troutface right off the Great Rock!” With this startlingly impolite statement, a warrior shoved Robinpaw onto their paws.

“Don’t be rude to a leader.” They grumbled, sending Robinpaw along with the rest of Thunderclan, which had begun to trickle out of Four-Trees. Willowpaw watched her leave with wide eyes as Cedar turned to her mentor, surprised to find Stormfang close behind her as well. Had she been there the whole gathering? Pelt prickling, Cedar rushed past her into Mothscar’s white pelt.

Even as Windclan begun to leave Cedar couldn’t help but feel things were going to get a lot worse. Was Shadowclan really lost?

[ablogcalledrevenge]

Potential (A General Hux x Reader Insert Multi-Chapter Fic, Rated T)

Chapter Four

The sex did help, infrequent as it was sometimes. It was easier to talk once the clothes and pretenses had been removed and the both of you were more relaxed. It felt safer, in a way, to engage in pillow talk. It was easier to talk about everything, from your treasonous plot to the shipment of fruit that the ship received.

Because you and Hux still fought, still argued. True, you hadn’t had a fight like that first one. You were grateful for that. But you and your husband were both headstrong people with specific wants and ideas. Arguing about it made sense, but there was an underlying respect there that wasn’t present before. The fights never went on too long, or got too vicious. Usually, after getting your initial frustration out- sometimes through yelling and sometimes through sex- you were able to figure out a solution.

Hux was trying, and you could appreciate that. You did appreciate that. You understood his background, the way he had been raised. Sympathy you had in spades for him. So to have him take a breath before responding in cruel anger, or thank you for something you did, meant the world to you. There was a vulnerability he was starting to let show. Only visible in the darkness of your bedroom or the steam from the shower. It wasn’t a quick or perfect process but he was trying. In return, you were too.

You were trying to be less stubborn, less haughty. You’d been crafting these ideas and plans for so long but you had to be open to change and collaboration. That’s why you got married after all. You wanted someone to work with. You didn’t want to be alone. You’re surprised you didn’t realize it earlier, but neither does Hux. You’ve both been denied so much in different ways that perhaps this marriage was always going to happen. You’re not ashamed or embarrassed to admit how much you need him now, how much you want him. Thankfully, he echoes your sentiment and his genuine affection for you is visible in every space you share together.

You hear several beeps as you get dressed, memories from the night before dissipating in your head. You’re about to turn around from your bureau to see the cause of the noise when it reveals itself in the form of a fast wheeling mouse droid quickly zipping back into it’s charging post. Then, as if on cue, your Tooka bounds out from under the bed. You snatch her up before she attempts to attack the poor droid.

“Now Millie, we’ve talked about this. No hunting the droids. You have plenty of toys to chase after, leave Messy alone.” You scold, placing her on a tall carpeted ledge. Meowing once, she stretches languorously before curling up on her perch. Shaking your head, you playfully swat at her bushy orange and white tail before continuing your morning routine.

Your husband had asked you to accompany him on the bridge today. This was both to learn more about his job and the ship you lived on and to have you present for a council meeting later. It was a good idea, you concede as you put on your shoes. Shouldn’t a wife be interested in her husband’s work, especially when it surrounded their lives? Shouldn’t a wife of a high ranking general get to know her husband’s superiors? If you were also going to be analyzing each and every one of them for weaknesses, well, that was just between you and your husband.

Getting rid of an entire High Council is not an easy or quick task but you’ve always been patient. The Council has 7 members, all older Imperial officers, with no one waiting in the wings. It’s honestly very telling that these men consider themselves so powerful and irreplaceable that they have not provided someone to step into their roles should something happen. But their folly was your gain and you revel in the exploitation to come.

“Well Millie, what do you think?” You ask the kitten, twirling in a small circle. Though she does perk up at the mention of her name, she barely spares you a glance. Much like the person who gifted her to you, she is not very interested in fashion. Still, you think your outfit is appropriate today.

Your dress is surprisingly simple and modest. You want to be able to blend in behind your husband, something easily passed over and ignored. You don’t want your presence to keep the Council from holding their tongues. The gown is a plain blue-gray jaberwool with a silk lining and thin leather belt to almost pay homage to the specific silhouette of First Order uniforms. Perhaps the only thing that sets it apart from the bland clothing of officers was the neckline. Instead of fitting snugly around your neck, the collar pulled out over one shoulder and down past your clavicle in both an elegant and risque cut. If the open neck also happens to show off a lovely little purple bite mark your darling had left the night before, all the better.

The last thing you do before leaving your quarters is put on a pair of pearl and diamond drop earrings. You decide to forgo your tiara or circlet today, instead braiding your hair up and back in a raised dome. It reminds you a little of an Alderaanian style, long since passed. The earrings start off dark gray, the same color as your dress before fading slowly into pure white with each level, small sparkling diamonds separating each change. They exude your status while also being less noticeable than a crown, and satisfied with your appearance, you leave your quarters to find your husband.

The bridge is bustling and noisy when you enter, everyone doing their jobs to ensure the might of the First Order and keep things running smoothly. As you approach your husband, grimacing at something on his datapad like always, the click of your heels stands out among the sounds. He turns and sees you, a small and rare smile gracing his lips. Holding out your gloved hand, he grasps it lightly, bringing it to his lips for a respectful kiss. Then he surprises you by tugging you towards him and placing a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Hello my dear, looking lovely as ever.” He says as his officers scurry below you. His eyes roam up and down your form approvingly before zeroing in on the open neck and the mark displayed there. You give him a cheeky smile when his face pinks for a brief moment. 

“I’m glad you think so darling. I wanted to match your officers in a way.” You explain, hands still clasped together in their respective leather gloves.

“You do in a remarkable way, and yet, I shouldn’t be shocked that you’ve managed to tweak it to your own extravagant nature.” He teases as he walks you over to a screen. It’s displaying all kinds of data and statistics. The Order is looking for a new base, wanting to introduce land troops and influence over various populations without having to fly down stormtroopers every time there’s trouble. Your husband had been going over various planets for days now, nixing some outright while spending hours comparing others. 

“Any luck finding a base?” You ask, eyes flitting over the numbers. Hux shrugs and releases your hand to fiddle with the controls, pulling up the image of a forest planet. 

“We’re still looking at a few contenders but right now Serenno seems to be the best option. The population is mostly humanoid and easily suppressible though they have had a bit of bad luck with their economy and may welcome us and the jobs we create. The soil there is nutrient rich and we could use the farmland as well as the various sources of energy the planet provides. It’s not official yet, but the terrain and atmo would be perfect for a stationary base and training facility.” He says, pulling up pictures of the bright forests and rolling fields. You didn’t particularly care about where the Order places a base, but you knew it was ultimately important to Hux.

As the day progresses, he takes you to the various departments of the Order, introducing you to all the team leaders and heads. Your husband seems particularly excited to visit the engineering department and it unlocks something in your chest to see him ask such specific questions and offer suggestions that work. There are so many strange sides to him, it’s enjoyable to have them appear.

It also is quite the boost to your ego, being shown around the ship like you are. Everyone knows who you are and what you represent and the amount of congratulations and gifts you receive during the day is touching. There was a part of you, in the early days of your marriage, that worried about whether or not the First Order would love you as much as it did Hux. You were under it’s banner your whole life, but you were also very unmilitary. So to have your husband’s subordinates welcome you so obviously and kindly, eased those worries almost instantly. Perhaps they saw in you a return to the glory and sophistication of the Empire or perhaps they just noticed the half smiles your darling graced you with or the lack of dark circles under his green eyes.

It’s quite a wonderful day, meeting everyone and learning how such an imposing ship was run. It was invigorating to see your husband in his element, commanding troops and issuing orders. No one could say that he wasn’t good at his job, that much was for certain. The admiration he gains from his officers on the bridge, and from you in private, is well deserved.

After a quiet lunch, which devolved rapidly from getting your stubborn husband to try your more palatable food to an indulgent makeout session against the wall, it was time for the meeting with the Council.

Adjusting your husband’s collar and smoothing back his hair, you enter the long meeting room following him as he sits in his appointed chair. The Council was not on board; were rarely on board, so instead of everyone sitting around the sleek paristeel table, they sat only on one side. General Hux, because of rank and respect, sits in the middle seat, while the rest of the majors and captains sit next to him. You choose to stand behind your darling, blending in with the walls and providing a figurative and literal hand against his back. 

Just before the meeting starts, the doors swish open and Kylo Ren storms in, his dark cape fluttering behind him. Like you, he chooses to stand, but unlike you he stays in the corner almost fully disappearing into the darkness. He’s still so strange to you, so unpredictable. But, whether he wants to or not, he invites curiosity. You want to get to know him, learn more about him. Your husband speaks disparagingly of him, but you were sure there was more hidden under the surface. That was something to explore later, you thought, as the screens in front of you flicker to life.

The meeting starts with roll and the expected topics of conversation. It follows with circular arguing and tedium. You understand the reasoning behind group decision making and a forum of discussion, but when you take over, these will be the first things to go. Your husband will have advisors of course, but he will make the final choice and none but you shall question him. A movement catches your eye just then, Lord Ren crossing his arms, and you quickly try to clear your mind. How foolish of you to forget the Force user in the room, to forget who he reported to. The last thing you needed was an errant thought to ruin you. You clench your hands in your gloves and hope he’s focused on the more powerful men and women in the room.

The topic eventually and thankfully changes to where the Order base should be stationed. Various officers speak about their preferred planet, providing slides and information to explain their choice. Hux goes last and it is very clear after a few minutes that he has won the support of his fellow officers around the room. The Council will make the ultimate decision after speaking with the Supreme Leader, but it’s obvious your husband has done his research and is passionate about his choice. You beam with pride at his confident tone and crisp speech.

The Council weighs their decision, speaking of the pros and cons of each planet, with Hux’s suggestion of Serenno being the favored one. But then Allegiant General Pryde speaks up and you barely resist the urge to groan.

“I’m not convinced that Serenno would be the ideal place for a new training facility. It has many favorable qualities, but the other planets brought up do as well. Despite General Hux’s notes, I see no reason why we should pick it over any other. Fondor has our shipyards already in place and Subterrel has mining opportunities. Although if the Council is to truly give their opinions, I still say Exegol is an excellent choice for a new base.” He suggests, the flickering video giving him a blue tinge. 

“While I don’t deny that Fondor or Subterrel would work fine, they already have their uses. Fondor is a shipyard, there’s limited space for courses and gyms and the constant machinery and flying around would mess with the cloaking devices and intelligence satellites. Subterrel is a mining planet, the terrain is too rocky and fragile in places to build permanent structures onto and the climate is too unpredictable. They could work, but Serenno is perfect in it’s simplicity. It has fields for farming and forests for shielding and training. The weather is temperate and there are no truly vicious species that would attack us. It is in the Outer Rim which provides an excellent spot in between various trade routes. It even has ties to Count Dooku, if you’re looking for something more spiritual and Separatist.” Hux explains, growing frustrated. It seems that Pryde is aware of his hold over your husband and enjoys exerting his power. His condescension practically leaks out of the video screen as the General continues to defend his ideas.

“And as for Exegol, that pathetic bastion of Sith energy, it is too unknown and unstable. The weather is almost always a downpour and would scramble any incoming or outcoming transmissions. While I hold little stock in the Force, you can not deny that the air is oppressive and dark there. There is something not right about that planet and I will not put my troops in danger out in the Unknown Regions! It has no trade routes, no resources, barely any lifeforms. With all due respect, Allegiant General, I don’t know why you continue to bring up that storm planet when everything points against it being even remotely useful. There is nothing there but old scraps of Star Destroyers and a failed Sith legacy!” Hux continues, getting more agitated. You step forward and place a hand on his shoulder, keeping him from leaping out of his chair. It calms him down a little, and he gathers his papers together as a way to center himself again. There is quiet in the room, everyone taken aback by your husband’s sudden ferocity and a few members of the council clear their throats in the awkward silence.

“All of you have provided excellent choices for the new base and I think I speak for the Council when I agree with General Hux about his choice. Serenno seems to have everything the First Order could need for a new permanent base and, once we receive confirmation from the Supreme Leader, construction and deployment can start right away. This concludes our meeting and the secretary droid will be sending you all the minutes shortly. You are dismissed.” The head of the council says, focusing the attention. He is a very old man, having started his career as a Lieutenant in the fledgling Empire and working his way up. It was time he retired, you thought offhandedly, watching him shakily raise a glass of water to his lips before signing off.

Other officers gather their things and exit, more screens turn off. The secretary droid makes a few beeps and exits as well; leaving only you, your husband, and Pryde’s image still in the room. Pryde is leaning back in his chair, eyes focusing intently on you. His gaze lingers on your neck and the bite mark and you can feel his stare as you swallow in trepidation.

“I’m surprised to see your wife here General, I was under the impression that she was not enlisted personnel.” He sneers. Hux bristles so minutely that it doesn’t show in his face but you can feel the insult under your palm.

“My job is one of my biggest concerns and I spend most of my time on the bridge. Any wife that I have would be remiss not to learn more about the things I consider important. Who am I to deny her the opportunity to learn about the Order?” He says casually, barely giving Pryde the courtesy of his attention.

“Although I will admit a lot of the conversation flew over my head. I have a lot to learn it seems.” You pipe up, smiling brightly at the image of Pryde. He smirks in response.

“As nice as it is to see you Lady Hux, let’s not make this a recurring appearance. I’ll speak with you shortly about the base plans, General.” With that, Pryde signs off and his image disappears. You let out an audible sigh of relief and sit down in a chair next to your husband.

“Stars I hate that man! I feel like he’s always looking at me, it makes my skin crawl.” You complain, taking off your gloves. Your darling chuckles and leans back in his chair as well.

“I can tell, he bothers me too. He was friends with my father growing up and I think it infuriates him that I’m General and my father is dead. Perhaps he’s mad he can’t shut me up the way he used to.” Hux muses, looking over at you softly, reaching out and taking your hand. He doesn’t have to say how Pryde used to silence him. The proof is in the faint scars on his back, the ones you have only seen a few times before, the ones you kiss in the hopes that your adoration will melt them away. If there was no other reason to get rid of Pryde and the Council, those scars would be enough.

“His obsession with Exegol is unusual and confusing. A Sith planet should not interest him so much, especially one that the Supreme Leader disregards.” Lord Ren says from his corner and you jump in your seat at the sound. Hux doesn’t react, used to the other man sulking around in strange places. You wonder if you should be afraid that he heard you speak against Pryde, but your husband hasn’t reacted much beyond a tightening of his jaw.

“Lord Ren, forgive me! I didn’t realize you were still here.” You apologize as he approaches the both of you. From your seated position he looks even larger than normal, the black of his uniform subsuming the lights in the room like a black hole.

“Don’t fret my dear, Ren was the one hiding in the shadows like a Mynock. He should apologize to you.” Hux drawls, glaring at Lord Ren’s helmet. There is a stand off between the two men and the air in the room grows thicker and thicker until it finally dissipates with Lord Ren speaking.

“You should consider being more agreeable like your wife. For once I am on your side, I too think Serenno is a good choice. The other planets are unworthy and useless to your cause. The Supreme Leader has many plans I am not privy to but none of them should involve Exegol.” The modulated voice says.

Hux nods his head and raises his eyebrows in acquiesce. You’re sure your face matches his.

“You have my thanks Lord Ren. I’m glad we’re seeing eye to eye on this matter.” He says diplomatically. The leather of Kylo Ren’s gloves creaks ominously in the pause though he doesn’t seem furious. In fact, his hidden gaze lasers in on you and your husband’s held hands. 

It is safe to say you are surprised by Lord Ren’s behavior and the mystery of who he is grows deeper. You long to see what’s under the helmet, imagining that it must be absolutely hideous and monstrous. That to look upon the Knight’s face must cause madness or combustion. It must be awful. He turns to you then and your eyes widen with the realization that he has been divining your thoughts.

“It’s worse.” Is all he says before exiting the room. You let out a breath and glance sideways at your husband and smile.

“Oh, I like him.” 

Hux rolls his eyes and leads you out of the room to continue his shift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later in your quarters, you and your husband are enjoying dinner. Your meal is a delicious baked fish with seasoned vegetables, the scent wafting pleasantly around your head. For once, Hux has gotten the same thing as you, his immature palate enjoying the lighter fare of fish and vegetables over some of the heartier things you had before. You had to go slow with it, otherwise he could make himself sick with the richer flavors.

Millie has finished her dinner and now sleeps happily on top of your feet under the table. Messy, your affectionately named mouse droid, hasn’t left their charging station but you hoped she wouldn’t terrorize the poor metal thing for much longer. It was hard to send messages when your droid wouldn’t even cross the living room floor. But she’s quiet and still now, her purring is soft background noise to the conversation you’re having with your husband, recounting the day's events and making plans for tomorrow.

It isn’t until dessert; various fresh fruits in an attractive display, that you bring up something more serious. 

“I don’t know if we’re going to be able to do this quickly. Killing the Council members all at once will look suspicious and treasonous and it will be harder to stay anonymous.” You breathe out, forking a piece of melon. Hux nods but doesn’t look worried. You feel guilty for being apprehensive, but seeing all the men together and safe in their homes makes you anxious.

“I knew that this would take the longest and that it would have to be done slowly. As much as I want to just open fire on the whole stupid lot of them, we must remain as distant from their deaths as possible. But I don’t think we have to tick off each member one by one over the course of several years.” He says, before popping a dark purple berry in his mouth. His lips twitch at the tartness of the fruit and a spark of desire ignites inside you.

“The death of their fellow members might make a few of them retire for their safety, that would take care of a few. But I’m also worried that if we rapidly take down a chunk of them, the others will respond with heightened security. I’m not a trained hitman, I can’t go up against higher protective measures.” You stress, wiping your mouth and pushing your plate away. Hux looks confused and you’re not sure why.

“What do you mean you’re not a hitman? You’re going to be the one to kill them? Absolutely not! I won’t allow it, I won’t put you in danger. I thought we’d hire a Mandalorian or some upstart Trooper.” He snaps, brows coming together in anger. Carefully pulling your feet out from under your cat, you get up and go to your husband, kneeling on the floor next to his chair. It’s a supplicated position, but you knew how to appeal to his ego.

“Darling I have to. We can’t involve anyone else in our plans, it’s too risky. Someone who can be bought may not care about our reasons but they also will divulge them to the highest bidder. We need to be overseeing everything and what better way than to do it ourselves. While I wasn’t out training with guards, I have taken courses in self defense. I know how to protect myself.” You say, clutching at his sleeve. He looks down at you, forehead relaxing.

“I don’t want you to get caught or hurt, (Y/N), it’s dangerous. Let me do it, I would certainly have reasons to be in close proximity to them.”

“No darling please, I have to do it. You have to stay as far removed as possible. You can’t be linked at all. You just need to look innocent. You need to be perceived as taking the power they leave behind with resigned confidence. It will endear you to the masses to view you as someone not grasping for power, but instead stepping up to be a leader. Coups can work, but this is not the right one.” You plead as he brushes his fingers across your brows and against your lips.

“Don’t you think my being married to the murderer connects me?” He asks, his voice growing fond. You turn your head to kiss his fingertips and the flame of arousal grows within you.

“Only if I get caught.” You counter and he leans forward to kiss you. You get back to your feet and he follows you, lips never leaving each other as you blindly move towards the ice blue couch where you straddle him. It’s a pose that reminds you of your first real memory of him, all those months ago in your parent’s estate. He still grabs and grips your waist with intensity and his eyes still hold such a calculating appraisal when he opens them in between kisses.

Your hands come up to run through his hair as you curve towards each other, breaking up the gelled strands. Your sister had recently become engaged to a businessman, some kind of droid oil mogul, and having seen a picture of the man you can’t help but admire your own husband’s appearance. The warm lighting of your quarters and impassioned down time only benefit him, making him look less wan and pallid than before. While you haven’t discussed it yet, and you aren’t ready for them, you hope your future children will have his looks. You briefly imagine a little boy with red hair and your husband’s dimples, something you had only seen once in the whole time you were married, and the thought causes you to sigh in happiness. Hux relaxes deeper into the couch and you unhook the top of his uniform tunic, your fingers splaying wide on his cool skin. It warms quickly under your touch. He pulls away after a few more moments of this, work always coming first. 

“It may not surprise you but many of the Council’s members are incredibly corrupt. Skimming off the top, abusing officers, one even owns pleasure slaves if the open secrets are to be believed. I think with the right kind of publicity, we could spin this. Pin the deaths on a team of justice seeking vigilantes intent on exposing the truth. At the end of all this, we can even ‘discover’ the culprits to be the Resistance and stage an attack without recourse. There’s no downside for us. The Council is gone and with it, we can criticize their behavior and come out looking more worthy of support and praise. We pin it on the Resistance and take out a few of them in justifiable revenge. If you can kill these disgusting, useless men, I can make the Order love you for it.” Hux says and you surge up in a quick kiss before breaking it to tell him some very exciting news. 

“I was invited by Colonel Paru’s wife to spend a long weekend at their estate. I believe several other members of the High Council will be there. Shall I come back with their heads for you?” You whisper, your lips moving against his in an almost kiss. You share the same breath and every time your husband leans forward to take them, you pull back imperceptibly. 

His hand travels up your side and over your breast to your open collar. His thumb pushes against the bruise he made only the night before and you gasp at the touch.

“Heads seem too messy and hard to display. I don’t need proof of your success, just you.” He says, catching you off guard with tenderness and capturing your lips with his own. He tastes like victory.

Chapter Five Coming Soon....

Tagging: @babbushka​, @livy1391​, @renaissance-mama​, @girl-next-door-writes​, @peqchynero​, @the-temple-pythoness​, @cupofmoonlighttea​, @sincerely-cronch​, @brujademente​, @potato-ren​, @ah-callie​, @rosirinoa​, @niniita-ah, @lwtficrecs​, @theold-ultraviolence​ and please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Married to the Mob

AU-gust Day Twelve: Crime AU Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Golden Lace

Rated: T

Summary: Crime boss Gold and his moll Lacey celebrate a successful operation against a rival, and Lacey questions where their relationship is going.

Married to the Mob

Everyone knew that Gold was the most dangerous man in Storybrooke. No one knew it more than Lacey, although Lacey was probably the only person in town who wasn’t downright terrified of the man. No, she knew that he was dangerous, but she also knew that she was in no danger at all, and in fact, she was probably one of the safest people around.

There were crime families, and then there was Gold. He wasn’t a one-man operation by any stretch of the imagination, but not having an extended network of relations to have to manage and prevent infighting between, he was certainly the most successful boss in his line of work. Everyone in Storybrooke knew not to cross Gold, and everyone knew that a sure-fire way to cross Gold was to threaten his girl in any way.

Lacey was that girl.

She’d come onto Gold’s radar a few years ago, just a petty thief picking pockets here and there, hanging out in the Rabbit Hole hustling pool and lifting wallets from unsuspecting patrons. She’d recognised Gold in there, of course, and she’d known better than to try him. She had felt his eyes on her all evening, watching her work, and she had wondered which of the men in the bar were his. Was she better off avoiding them or not?

As it turned out, she’d already cleaned out a couple of his guys the previous night, and Gold had come to see the little hustler in action for himself.

She’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t been nervous when he’d called her over, but Lacey was nothing if not full of bravado, and she’d gone over as happy and cocksure as if he’d been any other joe off the street.

“Fancy a game, Mr Gold?”

He’d declined, and instead offered to put her on his payroll. Someone like her was useful to have around, to get things that his usual muscle could not. She’d joked about him needing her feminine wiles, and he’d bought her a drink, and everything had gone from there, really. It had gone from working together to sleeping together in fairly short order afterwards, and it had remained that way ever since.

All the same, Lacey couldn’t help but wonder where the whole thing was going. Where did they stand? What would happen if they were to break up, would she have a massive target on her head, not only from Gold, who knew that she knew far too much about his operation, but from everyone else who’d ever held a grudge against her and now couldn’t touch her because she was under Gold’s protection?

Gold was in his office. He spent most of his time in there; he had enough people to send out into the field to carry out his meticulously planned jobs for him, Lacey included, and he preferred to mastermind his empire from a distance. Plausible deniability was a great asset; the exasperated investigators had never yet been able to make anything stick against him, but he always bailed out any of his underlings who had the misfortune to get themselves caught. They might not work for him again, but their loyalty was always rewarded.

Dove was in there with him. Of all of Gold’s enforcers, the near-silent Dove was definitely the most trusted. Lacey couldn’t tell if this was because of his quietness or if his quietness was a result of that trust. Although huge and intimidating, Dove was the very picture of discretion and was always respectful to Lacey, even when, like now, she ended up barging in on his private meetings with Gold.

He gave her a nod as he left the room, closing the door behind him, and Lacey hung around in the middle of the room, not quite sure where she ought to go from here. The usual bravado that accompanied all her interactions with everyone in Gold’s operation, himself included, had deserted her in his presence. It had been doing that an awful lot lately, and this vulnerability was beginning to get on her nerves. She really needed to know where she stood with Gold. If their relationship was heading in the direction that she thought it was, then she would allow that vulnerability. If it was not, then it was time to toughen up, strengthen her exterior and not let Gold know just how weak she was for him. Gold did not appreciate weakness, not in their line of work where everyone had to be on their toes all the time. That was one of the secrets of his enduring success – he never let his guard down, and he never let anyone get complacent.

“Hello, Lacey.” His smile on seeing her was genuine, not the sneer that he presented to the world so often in his dealings with it. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“No reason.” Lacey shrugged, trying to keep things nonchalant. She made her way over the desk, perching on the edge of it. “What were you and Dove discussing? Or is it top secret?”

“It’ll be common knowledge soon enough.” Gold opened his bottom desk drawer, taking out a bottle of Scotch and two tumblers. “In fact, it’s cause for celebration.” He poured a generous measure into each glass and handed Lacey one, chinking his to hers. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Lacey took a sip of the warming liquor. She had to admit that hugely increased alcohol quality had been a deciding factor in accepting a position within Gold’s organisation. Most of the moonshine she could get at the Rabbit Hole was barely drinkable. Gold had enough connections to get premium-aged Scottish whisky imported. “What are we toasting to?”

“The soon-to-be announced demise of Zelena West’s money-laundering scheme.”

Lacey raised an eyebrow and raised her glass. “I’ll definitely toast to that. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

Zelena had been persistent thorn in Gold’s side for months, and his and Dove’s hard work in getting her out of town had finally paid off. A large and very selfish part of Lacey hoped that, with Zelena out of the way and no longer occupying any of Gold’s time or thoughts, he would have more time for her now. She didn’t feel any guilt at this hope. Crime was a selfish business, after all. Even those who robbed the rich to feed the poor would be lying if they didn’t feel a certain perverse satisfaction at undermining authority. For Lacey, who had skirted authority all her life and always felt stifled by it, it was easy to admit how much she enjoyed that aspect of her lifestyle.

Whisky drunk, Lacey slipped off the edge of the desk, coming around it to settle on the edge of Gold’s chair and then slide down into his lap. He looked down at her as she swung her legs in the air.

“You’re worse than a lap cat for wanting attention, you know.”

“Ah, but you love me for it really, and you know that I’m so much more fun than a lap cat.” Lacey tugged his tie free of his waistcoat, pulling on the end and giving a pitiful meow. Gold laughed.

“You do have a point there, Kitten.”

He pulled her in for a kiss, long and possessive, and Lacey slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. They were just as desperate and needy as each other, in their own ways.  

Lacey sighed as she pulled away. When it was just the two of them like this, it was easy to think that everything was well in the world and that they were the only two people that mattered, and they were the only two things that they cared about. It was easy to forget everything else, even their subtle and precarious position in the underworld hierarchy that could be toppled at the slightest provocation – just a single botched job or one disgruntled former associate.

“Is everything all right, Kitten?” When she didn’t respond, Gold pressed her. “Lacey? What’s that sigh for? I thought that we were celebrating.”

Lacey decided that the easiest thing to do would just be to come out and say it. Best to deal with the consequences head on rather than letting them fester, leaving them as a secret that might come out some other way in some other, less favourable circumstances.

“What are we doing here, Gold?” she asked. “What is this thing between us?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was quiet, but it was not the icy, dangerous quiet that Lacey knew and had come to associate with bloodshed, the quiet that came out when dealing with people like Zelena West. This was a different quiet, a reverent and respectful quiet. This was a question that he genuinely wanted to know the answer to.

“I mean, is this just a bit of fun? Something to pass the time for us both? Or is it something… More? Is…” Lacey took a deep breath and pressed on. “Is it love?”

Love was a dangerous word in their underworld. Deep attachments could prove fatal. Gold already knew that, and Lacey had learned it from her association with him.

“What do you think it is?” Gold asked. This deference and indecision was a new look on him; Lacey had never seen him be anything but completely sure of himself. This nervousness was new, and despite it being strange to her, and strange to think of Gold in such a state having known him so intimately for as long as she had, it gave Lacey hope, because she was feeling the exact same nerves herself.

“I know what I’d like it to be. But I also know that’s a difficult and dangerous path to go down, and it would paint a target on my back as much as it would protect me.” She paused. “I love you. And if you don’t love me back then that’s ok. I can live with that. It was fun whilst it lasted, but I know all about getting in too deep, I know…”

Gold pressed a finger to her lips to silence her, then removed it and kissed her again.

“I love you too,” he said. “In fact, the news of Zelena’s imminent downfall was only incidental to the real reason why Dove was here tonight.”

He reached into his inside jacket pocket, and Lacey could have sworn that her heart stopped as he pulled out a small velvet box.

“I was going to wait a while. I wanted to be sure of your feelings before I said anything; I didn’t want you to feel obligated in any way. There’s still no obligation even now, but after what you said this evening, I have more confidence in asking. Will you marry me, Lacey?”

A small part of Lacey couldn’t believe it. Until their paths had collided, she and Gold had occupied very different social strata. He was completely out of her league, and they both knew it. Well, she had always thought that he was completely out of her league, until tonight, when he had told her that he loved her and proposed marriage.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“As the grave.”

She batted his arm. “Don’t joke about things like that. Not in your line of work.”

“Sorry. Poor taste. But I am serious. I love you, and I want to marry you.”

Lacey looked at the ring; it must have cost more than she’d ever known in her lifetime. If she accepted it, then things would definitely change. They would both be more vulnerable, but they would be stronger together as well, far stronger than they were apart.

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I want to marry you.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #318

“what can you do, where can ya go, when your mama is a burnout, and your daddy is a pyro?”

Do you have your ears pierced more than once? Yeah. Do you use an electric toothbrush? Yes. When was the last time you changed in front of someone? Oh, I have no idea. That's something I avoid like the plague because I loathe my body. When was the last time you got high? Never. Do you get along with your parents? Yeah. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? None. Have you ever used a Ouija board? No, I don't fuck with that stuff. Have you ever met anyone who claimed to be a witch? Yes. Do you go along with prank-callers, or just hang up? I don't answer numbers I don't recognize to begin with. Would you ever tattoo a lover’s name onto your body? Nooooo. Do you own any version of Guitar Hero? I have a lot of 'em. Do you use mouthwash every single day? No. Do you know anyone with asthma? Yeah, my mom. Have you ever walked through a forest at night on your own? Uh, no sir. When was the last time you were in a graveyard? It's been many, many years. Do you know what an ‘AMV’ is? Yep, used to make 'em. How many items are in your recycle bin? (On your computer!) Oh yikes, probably loads. I haven't emptied it in... I don't know how long. Would you rather be a bird or a fish? A bird. What’s one award show you have to watch every year? None. Who do you like more: the Batman or the Joker? Joker. Heath Ledger's is my favorite. Have you ever had a pet rock? No. How much do you weigh? Yeah, no. If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Taking nature photographs. Have you ever lost your luggage at an airport? No. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster that actually scared you? I don’t do roller coasters to begin with. Have you ever gone in a sauna? Ugh, hell no. Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? No. Have you ever had an eating disorder? No. Are you attracted to people outside of your race? Yes. Are you in love with anyone at the moment? No. Have you ever dated someone more than once? No. Best cough drop? Those creamy strawberry ones. If you have a pet, does it make a lot of noise? One's a snake, so she's silent as could be. My cat is generally quiet, but he has his times where he just walks around meowing, normally for attention. Are you a fan of eyeshadow? If I actually wear makeup, yeah, I like black eyeshadow. Can you tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi? Absolutely. I don't like Pepsi. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? Done it before, didn't feel weird. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? A Silent Hill poster. Which of your friends makes you laugh the hardest? Girt. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yeah, as a kid. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. What was the title of the last song you listened to? So today I've really been digging dark synthwave/cyberpunk-ish music, and right now I have a playlist on that's currently playing "DNA War" by Absolute Valentine and Billy Mays. How far away is the closest Walmart? Not even five minutes. Can you do a backflip? No. Who is the lead singer of your favorite band? Well, Ozzy is the lead singer of Ozzy Osbourne, haha. When was the last time you went fishing? Not since Sara visited and we went catfishing with my dad one night. What brand of deodorant do you use? Secret. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Yes. Do you regret it? Nah. Who was the last person to buy you a drink? My mom, lmaoooo. Who was the last person to buy you dinner? Also my mom, haha. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? Juan's maybe like... 28 or something by now, idk. Have you ever run a stoplight? No. Have you ever dated someone & then dated their sibling? YIKES, no. That sounds miles beyond awkward. Are both your parents still living? Yeah, thankfully. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music, for sure. Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? No, but I do find those super cute. What gives you a quality of life? Not much nowadays, idk. What would give you a high quality of life? A sense of purpose, direction, and worth. Do you have any rugs on top of carpet in your home? We have a big one in our living room, yes. I don't get it. Do you have a mattress cover on your bed? Yeah. Do you hate taking naps during the day? No; naps are normal for me. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Maybe I'm biased, but I genuinely do think Mark for a multitude of reasons. He's just extremely likable imo and sincerely a fucking spectacular human being. Do you have any vinyl records? No, but I would love to collect classic rock and metal ones. Which serial killer(s) do you find most fascinating? I'm quite honestly not well-informed in serial killer stories. I think they're interesting, but not enough for me to learn about them. Have you ever visited any celebrity gravesites? No. How do you feel about archaeology? It's fuckin dope. Any animals whose behaviors you find particularly interesting? ALL OF THEM AHHHH!!!!! But I particularly love learning about social animals, like meerkats (mongoose in general, really), African wild dogs, wolves, etc. What are your thoughts on gun control? I don't support the idea of banning firearms altogether, but I am very much in favor of some reform. There needs to be a much, much more strict and complex system in order for you to legally own a gun, and I also support periodic "check ups" to ensure you still fit whatever criteria is laid out. "Bad people will still find guns;" yes, some most certaintly will, but you can't convince me that the numbers wouldn't decrease. It would take a serious villain to put so much effort into pursuing obtaining a firearm. Do you like animals better than most humans? Sure do. Have you ever had to block people online for harassing you? I've blocked people to prevent that. If you collect anything, what is your favorite piece of that collection? I cherish the plush meerkat Jason gave me most, probably; out of my Silent Hill stuff, the limited edition Revelation flyer I have in Japanese. Are you friends with anybody you didn’t like at first? Hi, meet my best friend lmao. Are there any musicians you didn’t like at first, but grew on you? Probably. Do you have any favorite books you’d like to have signed by the author? Not really. Well wait, Ozzy signing my copy of his autobiography would be pretty damn cool. Do you like any board games or card games? I'm not really a board game fan, but Magic: The Gathering is fun as far as card games go. What historical figure(s) are you most interested in? I'm not incredibly interested in any, but I do think Pharaoh Hatshepsut was a bad bitch. She was one of the extremely few female pharaohs, and if my memory serves me right, one of the most successful. Do you like Breaking Benjamin? I sure do. How many people of the opposite sex have you told you loved them? One. Have you ever had to change your phone number? Yes, because I was getting strange texts from numbers I didn't know. Have you ever played bingo at an actual bingo hall? No. What’s your favourite comic book/graphic novel? I don’t read any. What is something you take pride in? How far I've come as far as my mental illnesses go, particularly depression and PTSD. What’s the biggest magnet on your fridge? I'm not getting up to go look. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No; I hate lettuce on burgers, so. What brand is your vaccuum cleaner? Dunno. Do you believe in sex before marriage? Sure, but I don't believe it's a must for everyone. Plenty of people don't even want to get married. Be intimate once you're comfortable with the person, and be safe and smart about it. Are you for or against abortion? I'm pro-choice. Do you feel like you need to lose weight? It's fact that I need to. My body just doesn't want to, afuckingpparently. All I seem to be capable of is either maintain or gain nowadays. Is summer your favorite season? It's my least favorite, actually. Do you wear glasses? I'm basically blind without 'em. Can you say the alphabet in more than one language? Yeah, in German. What do you want out of life? To feel like I made a difference, even if it's a small one. Do you ever get carsick? No. Do you groom your eyebrows? Not really anymore, no. Have you ever liked someone who treated you badly? No. When was the last time you went in the car past midnight? Oh boy, probably not since I had my cyst in I think '16. I was in so much agony and we had no painkillers, so I had to wake up Mom to go to Walmart to grab some. They barely even helped at all. God, I couldn't imagine dealing with that again. Were your last two kisses with the same person? Yes. Do you have alcohol in your house? I don't think we do right now, no. Do you have any personal fashion rules that revolve around your own preferences/body type (e.g., you never/always wear a certain color, sleeve type, or length of dress)? Yeah; I don't wear anything that shows my legs unless I shaved, but I will never wear a dress that isn't at least past my knees. Do you remember any celebrity whose style you admired when you were a teen? What do you think of that style now? Avril Lavigne was/is an ICON. I still think she looks badass. So, is it gif with a hard G or soft G? I used to say the opposite, but I say "gif" now. Apparently that's how the creator of the term says it anyway. When you are invited to things like wedding showers or baby showers do you tend to go or skip? What about graduation parties? If Mom is able to take me, I'll try to go to the first two if they're my closer friends. Do you like spicy chips? Oh FUCK yes. What’s the last movie you watched at a friend’s house? Elf with Sara's fam. Can you remember your parents’ birthdays? Mom's, yes. Dad's, only the month. Do you read your friends' surveys? Yep, I love learning about them. Do you know anyone with a glass eye? Not to my knowledge, no. Do you ever use the n-word? Absolutely not. What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? I tend to like lip piercings. Do you prefer beef, chicken or steak? Chicken. Ever spent the night in a tent? Yeah, multiple times as a kid, "camping" in the yard with Dad, haha. What do you call your grandparents? I called both sets just "Grammy" and "Grampa." Have you ever cried while reading a book? Oh, certainly. How many college degrees do you want? I got none, and I'm not going back to college. Do you know how to play pool? What about foosball? Yes. Have you ever attended a professional sporting event? Yeah, hockey with my dad a few times. Do you own any jerseys? No. Were you born with naturally straight teeth? No; that's why I had braces. If you were the opposite gender, what name would you like to be called? Maybe like... Victor. Idk. Do you prefer original or sour Skittles? I love both, but sour. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yeah. What is your favorite kind of soup? I'm not a soup person. Did you learn to type through a computer program for kids? Yeah. What do you take for pain? Advil/Ibuprofen. What is your favorite place that you’ve lived? My pre-teen and teenage years house: in the woods on a dead-end road and down a gravel path that everyone always missed when learning where our house was. The actual road itself had very, very little traffic, and there was a large expanse of cotton fields. I loved it and miss the house itself, but it's got a lot of bad memories rotting in it. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My niece and nephew. <3 Who is your favorite cousin? I don't have a favorite. We barely interact at all. Does one side of your family live in another state? Literally none of my extended family (or half-siblings) live in NC. What states did your parents grow up in? New York and Ohio. Have you ever had an allergic reaction to an insect? No. Is there a good hospital where you live? God no. It is notoriously awful. When was the last time you were asked out? Did you accept or decline? Mid-2017. I aceepted. Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? N/A Do you want to get married? If so, what color will your dress be? Yeah. Probably white/ivory or black. Ever had a caricature done of yourself? How much was it, and were you satisfied with it? No. Do you like peanut butter and fluff sandwiches? No, I don't like the texture. If you got married and then got divorced, would you want to re-marry? Probably not. What’s your favorite amusement park? I haven't been to nearly enough to know. Do you play video games? If so, what kind? Yeah. My favorite are horror games, but I also love me some story-driven survival games like The Last of Us, and then there's "kids" games like Spyro, etc. I like a looot of different kinds. Would you buy used clothes? I don't think so. I know it's easy to wash clothes and stuff, I'd just still feel kinda... grossed out by it.