#so your first shots of a species are usually not going to be your best

[neofelis----nebulosa]

had the best shoot ive had in a while today. Had an awesome encounter with a red shouldered hawk (only my second time seeing one in the wild and my first time successfully photographing one) and was able to get some close up mourning dove shots

[guillotinesandroses]

So I was wracking my brain to come up with another request that would be super fun to write. Can I ask for a one shot for Gyomei Himejima from Demon Slayer and a yokai gn!reader. Reader is a Nekomata and has been protecting a village from demon attacks for a long time. One day Gyomei happens upon the village during the attack and steps in to help. He notices reader and attacks them, under the impression that nekomatas were usually malevolent. However, the villagers stepped in and vouched for reader's kindness. Reader has been fascinated with humans so much that they stopped being in their cat form and try to replicate a human appearance to their best of their abilities (even if they still have the ears, tails, and cat feet). Gyomei decides to take reader to the next hashira meeting so they can decide what happens to them. During the trip they fall in love, Gyomei seeing the gentle and caring nature reader has for humans and their ability to fend off demons. Reader is nervous at first around Gyomei but is soon infatuated with him but treads lightly when it comes to feelings since they understand he's a religious man. I hope this is good! Thank you for your time!

Related Note: To be perfectly honest, I may have gotten a bit... carried away. After finishing this draft, I realized that the Reader described in this request is a lot softer than what I ended up writing after researching Nekomata. Granted, in the standards of their species, Reader is still soft, but I feel like the vibe is different, and I somehow missed the part of 'during the trip, they fall in love' :( I tend to latch onto specific bits of what I read and run with those, this time it being 'generally malevolent spirit'... I'm sorry if this doesn't fit what you were looking for.

Somewhat related note: Rediscovered my love for Glass Animals' most inconveniently named song, Toes. I usually search for songs without adding artists' names because I'm too lazy to type them out... the things I've seen...

Contains; Gyomei Himejima x Gender Neutral Reader, Yokai/Nekomata!Reader, use of Japanese honorifics, hurt/comfort, reader is old and an obligate carnivore, some references to buddhism, mentions of cannibalism, death, and murder because it's the Demon Slayer universe.

Forms of Comfort

"In the mountain recesses, there are those called nekomata, and people say that they eat humans." An elderly man lowers the pipe from his lips, breathing smoke into the nighttime air. "One appeared a long time ago, and it killed and ate several people in one night. That beast is said to have fallen to a figure wielding a samurai's sword, a local hero of legend, but it's for the best to remain careful." 

Ah, a demon slayer must have visited this place before. I hope they lived long, and retired with a healthy body. Gyomei nods at the elder's words, pressing his calloused hands together. 

"I understand. I swear to bring you safely to your granddaughter's house, Sasaki-san." 

"Thank you for your help, young man. Going out is awfully dangerous these days." 

"That it is. Let us pray this journey unveils with no complications." 

With that, Gyomei and Sasaki depart from the quiet inn. The demon slayer ran into him by coincidence, and the elder requested his help to get home safely. In situations such as these Gyomei is grateful for his imposing stature, as it brings comfort to those who can see past it. Sasaki's intentions are pure, Gyomei could hear it from the tone of his voice and steadiness of his heart. As there was no deceit to be found, the hashira saw no harm in helping out the older gentleman. 

Unfortunately, Sasaki's caution turned out to be warranted. A few hours into the travel, a horde of demons stalks them from the woods. Starving, of low-rank and desperate, they either did not care about or did not notice Gyomei's level of strength. He readies his spiked flail and axe, listening to their sharp breaths. However, before he can strike, something beats him to the task. 

The demons screech as they are torn apart, nichirin flashing past the branches. Swift paws crash across trees, and soon enough the screaming comes to an abrupt halt. The culprit of the massacre lands on the ground, soft and quiet. Demon blood drips from its fur and chars into ash, fading to the wind. Its heart is as enormous as its body, thrumming calmly in its chest as it breathes out. 

Heavy, slow footsteps thunder on the ground with grace one would not expect from such a large creature. Its back scrapes against branches as it creeps closer. Bigger than a wild boar, greater than a lion, its mannerisms are close to a leopard's. Hunting alone, stalking its prey before striking. Knowing they devour anything with flesh on it, Gyomei knows he must act fast as the elder gasps. 

"Those slit eyes... that must be-!" 

"Eyes like a cat, body large like a dog... this demon has taken the form of a nekomata. You were right, Sasaki-san." Gyomei adjusts the weapons in his hands. "Which one may you be? An old domesticated cat, or a beast born to the mountains?" 

"It offends me you feel the need to ask. A mountain spirit is what I am." Your tails sway behind you, flicking in curiosity. The imposing form you took for battle fades into your usual human figure, only some of your feline features remaining.

"It... it can talk!" Sasaki exclaims in terror. That is not so surprising, but before Gyomei can open his mouth, a sudden swoosh of cloth runs into the picture. 

"Please don't attack!" A young woman rushes out from the trees, arms spread out to protect you. "Nekomata-sama is this village's protector, it's been this way for centuries!" 

"Granddaughter..?!" 

It takes the whole village to assure Gyomei of your innocence. As difficult as it is to believe, there is neither deceit nor blood demon arts at play here. From the tales of old folks to the fables of children, all of them confirm that you have been here as a guardian and not a menace, for a long time now. The tale Sasaki told him was actually nothing but a rumor, a misconception. There had, in fact, been a demon tormenting the village centuries ago.

However, that demon was not a nekomata. Rather it was you, a nekomata, who took it upon yourself to slay that demon, earning the village's trust in the process. Since then, you have been their guardian, slaying monsters and even assisting in daily tasks, keeping people company. Uncertain how to proceed, Gyomei convinced you to leave your post for a while to visit his master. He will know what to do and what questions to ask. 

Not that he does not have questions of his own. Since the Nekomata is considered far more malicious in its behaviour than the mischievous and playful Bakaneko, Gyomei wonders if you are the latter, after all. Still, he does not ask. Perhaps it would be rude to make such assumptions. Either way, your non-human features basking in the sunlight gather attention within the demon slayer base. A hashira meeting is swiftly called, and the pillars are filled with suspicion, as expected. 

"As a mid-Edo period scholar stated, 'old cats will come to have two tails and become the yōkai called nekomata, and bewilder people'. They have proven time and time again to be malevolent, bringing death and gloom," a woman with a butterfly hairclip explains. 

"Really..? But those ears are so cute and fluffy..." a pink haired lady mumbles to herself, fingers gently covering her lips. 

"Nekomata are the reason cats should not be kept for long periods," a man with bandages over his mouth speaks, "with all due respect, Master, there's no reason we shouldn't kill this yokai." 

You hum calmly, not threatened in the slightest. "I am a demon, yes, but not of Kibutsuji's making. He has no sway over what I do and what I must eat." 

"Nekomata devour humans." A white-haired man cuts in, hands clenched with readiness to strike. His eyes flare with hate as he speaks, but he retains a respectful tone. "They shapeshift, take human form and deceive people. Master, I ask for permission to slay the demon and just get this over with already." 

"I understand your apprehension. My kind isn't exactly known for our benevolence. I, however, fail to see a reason for committing such acts of violence. A man I took an interest in a long time ago, my educator, taught me much. Upon sparing his life, I grew to understand the worthless nature of my old habits." 

"But you have killed humans, Nekomata-san, isn't that what you're implying?" The butterfly woman asks, empty smile unwavering. 

"I have. It is what my kind normally does. Lacking a purpose, I took their example to ease my boredom." 

"It doesn't matter one bit that its murders are in the past!" The white-haired man barks. "These monsters don't change." 

"My current purpose is to protect the village of my former educator, as well as the nearby home of a friend I once knew. I have no desire to harm humans anymore. Demon flesh feeds me quite well." 

Conflicted voices clash against each other soon as the hashira argue over your situation. Examining your nails in boredom, you wonder how long this is going to take. Your people await you, and you have little interest in the worries of irrelevant humans. 

"Quiet down, my children, please," the sickly man's voice cuts the noise, sharp as blade yet soft as silk. "A demon not connected to Kibutsuji is a rare find. Tell me, Nekomata-san, what do you know of him?" 

"I am not as old as he is, nor have I met him. There is little I know that you wouldn't." 

"Alright, the cat's useless. Let's throw it into the sun." 

"Shinaguzawa, please, sit down. What is it that you know, Nekomata-san?" 

"He is searching for something. One of his servants cried about failing to find a flower. The kind he is looking for... I believe I've only seen it once in my centuries. The blue spider lily can only be found in daylight, but I doubt he knows that." 

"Hold on, something doesn't add up. If it only blooms in daylight, how come you've seen it, huh, demon?" 

"I told you, I am not like him. He is a fraud, a man-made creature. His transformation was nothing but an atrocity, and I do not accept him nor his demons as part of my kind." 

A brief silence falls over the room. It is broken by the jeweled man. "Hm... flamboyantly put, I have to admit! However, demons are well-versed in deceit, we mustn't forget that!" 

Their sickly leader hums. "Well, it has been decided already, Nekomata-san is to live. Even so, I'd still like to hear your thoughts, my children." 

"Doesn't matter. I'll forget it anyway." The small boy speaks up for the first time in the meeting, still staring off into space. 

"Yes, please let the adorable kitty live!" The pink-haired lady squeals. You tilt your head at the odd praise but say nothing. 

"Kanroji-san, do not fall for its tricks," the bandaged man scolds before voicing his opinion. "I disapprove of this suggestion, Master, but I trust your judgement." 

"Although I heard the villagers eagerly vouch for this demon's innocence with genuineness in their voices... I find it hard to believe they could be trusted." 

"I am indifferent on this matter," the man with a bi-colored haori says. 

"Of course you are." The white-haired man scoffs lowly. "Connected to Muzan or not, demons cannot be trusted." 

"In the event that I'll be allowed to run a few... friendly tests on Nekomata-san, I'll be happy to accept them!" 

"I absolutely cannot agree with keeping this demon alive! Master, it would be in our best interests to kill it at once!" 

"There is a type of flair to its fashion choices... but a demon is a demon! Allow me to carry out the utmost flamboyant execution for this deviant!" 

In spite of the complaints, the sickly man keeps his verdict the same. You are allowed to live another day, to linger among the demon slayers. Not that their hatred would ever worry you. There are thousands of tricks up your sleeve, and they are accustomed to fighting a completely different kind of oni. Their blades and poisons are ineffective, thus you walk down the veranda with calm grace. 

The white-haired man pushes past you with a snarl, growling out a harsh sentence. "If any poltergeist nonsense starts happening around here, your head is flying clean off!" 

"You're welcome to try, birdie." A lazy smirk falls to your lips.  

"What did you just call me?!" He whips around to face you. 

"All dressed up in white, bulging dark eyes... yes, a snowy owl, that's what you are." 

Before a fight could break out, Gyomei broke it up. Since he was the one who found you, it became his duty to keep watch over you. Although you would have much rather preferred to go home, his presence was at least engaging enough. You did not quite trust the demon slayers sent to guard your hometown, but you supposed it would have to do for now. The Stone Hashira had piqued your interest after all. 

A few weeks have passed since your first meeting. You walk beside him, locked in a casual conversation. "My favorite is Takikomi-Gohan, but I substitute the meat with delicious vegetables." 

"Why in the world would you do that? The meat's the best part." Your tails flicker in confusion. 

"Although I'm no longer a monk, my beliefs haven't changed. It hurts me to wound sentient beings, including all animals. Killing is something that should be condemned, all life deserves compassion."

You hum, understanding now. "Funny... I can only eat meat. My body cannot digest much else. Rice is pretty good in small portions, though." 

"Then it is a medical necessity... how unfortunate." Small tears glitter down his face. "You do not even have a choice, poor soul." 

"It's not a tragedy... not to me at least." You roll your eyes. 

"Perhaps we feel differently about this. Well, Nekomata-san, I have a question to ask you." 

"Ask away. I don't have much to hide." 

"That nichirin sword you carry... where did you get it?" 

"It's not that exciting of a story. Before I came along, the village worshiped the memory of a retired demon slayer. His sword was raised at an altar like the ones devoted to kami." Your eyes flick to a flowerbed, tracing over the lilac flowers. 

"I wanted to taste that reverence, so I took it. When I returned, transformed, they began to worship me instead. It didn't take long for them to accept what I am after the first demon attack." Your gaze raises to him as you smirk. "Now, where did you come from, what's your story?" 

"...The origins of most demon slayers aren't particularly pleasant. I am no exception." He pauses before the flowerbed that caught your attention earlier. "I went hungry and let the children I cared for eat instead. Despite my best efforts, all but one of them died to a demon attack." 

As he crouched over to graze his fingertips over the flowers, you stood by. Coming to a conclusion, you speak. "...I see. Another tale of loss. Do you wish to meet them again?" 

Gyomei freezes in his place, quiet tears still slipping. "Pardon?" 

"I possess the power of necromancy. Say the word, and I shall raise them from the dead." 

Recovering, his response is surprisingly quick. "As much as I long to hear their voices once more, I will not violate the rules of nature. Both human life and death are sacred, they must not be disrespected." 

"...As you wish," you murmur, "though I find it difficult to understand your refusal." 

The rest of the stroll is rather quiet, but you can tell he is not upset by your offer. Grief raises unpleasant memories from their graves. For the remainder of the day, you leave him to deal with his personal ghosts. 

Time continues to pass. You alternate between staying home and visiting the Stone Hashira. Aside from him, not many others have taken the chance to speak to you, with friendly intentions at least. The butterfly woman, Shinobu Kocho, approached you with experimentation on her mind, which you refused. The only exception thus far has been Mitsuri Kanroji, the Love Hashira. 

"I appreciate your efforts to keep me company, Honey Badger. It gets rather dull when Anteater is away. The experimentation offers from Slow Loris get quite tiring as well." 

"Oh, it's no problem at all! You're the nicest demon I've ever met!" 

"That's not such a difficult title to receive." 

"No, not really... but it's fun to have, right? Anyway, by 'Slow Loris' do you mean Shinobu-san? Um, don't take this the wrong way, 'cause they're super cute, but what's up with the animal nicknames?" 

"I've been bored, that's all... but you asked me a question just now. That means I get to ask you one too." 

"Oh, it does? Well, I don't mind at all! What were you thinking about?" 

"Most demon slayers avoid me. The lower ranked ones run away, the higher ranks glare. What made you want to approach me?" 

"It's a bit embarrassing, actually..." Kanroji covers her face before squealing and giggling. "...I just really love cats, and you're so, so adorable! Himejima-san also loves them, so I guess that might have something to do with why he's been so soft with you!" 

"Truly? Is looking adorable all it takes to gain his approval?" 

"No, of course not! He's clearly seen something more in you, and I trust him. Besides, all those stories probably aren't true. I mean... you... don't steal corpses, do you?" Kanroji murmurs with sudden contemplative worry. 

"What would I do with those?" You scoff in amusement. 

"That wasn't really an answer... but oh, hey, look! There he is!" 

Gyomei stands before a group of children, trying to teach them something. One of the kids stomps over to the Stone Hashira. The child yells at him, challenging him to battle. Gyomei proceeds to beat the him headfirst into the ground after he would not quit. Cackles break out from between your lips, and you cover your mouth with your hand.

You wonder if you should sneak over there and cause some extra mischief too, but refrain from doing so. Instead you watch him from afar as Kanroji talks your ear off. His strength truly is tremendous, massive logs and boulders weigh nothing to him. A strange, unfamiliar warmth flares in your heart. It is not entirely unpleasant but since you cannot seem to figure it out, the flame keeps you distracted until his training is done, and even after it. 

A few months later, he is the one to visit you instead. Caught up in memories for once, your mind remains absent as your fingers graze your shamisen, reminiscing. Plucking one of the strings, a melody a rings out as your slit-eyes dart to his. White and pure as fresh milk, empty and lifeless with no movement. What a conundrum, you ponder, playing a slow, sad tune you know well.

Its origin has been long lost to time, only you remember the heartbroken geisha who sang it long ago. Her clothes grace your androgynous body, it is her shamisen in your grasp that you toy with. Both were gifts for the comfort you gave her, that ancient, lonely woman with no freedom or options. So alone, she would embrace the company of even a bloodthirsty beast, who only wandered to her arms out of sheer boredom. 

Once Gyomei reaches you, the final string is pulled. Song finished, you lower the instrument with care. Eyes closed, you hum in thought. "Humans are quite cruel." 

"Whatever could have inspired that thought?" He stops before you. His hands press together in prayer as always, as if belief lays in his nature. 

"Do you need to ask? I'm sure you've noticed it as well. Clinging to your faith and beliefs... there's no way not one human has been crude to you because of them." 

"They have... but it does not get to me. Why do you ask?" 

"When we first met, I lied. All nekomata come from old, mistreated housecats. I wasn't born in the mountains, I ran to them." 

"I assume you lived as most nekomata do, initially?" 

"Of course I did." 

"What made you change your ways?" 

"It took some time and a coincidence. I met a geisha, who didn't respond with fear. Curiosity got the better of me. I let her live, take comfort from me. I was quite fond of her... until a group of rejected clients butchered her when I was away." 

"How cruel... I pray her soul found peace." As expected, tears roll down his face, yet the sympathy is in no way false. "I presume you took some form of action against them, no?"

"Naturally... I tormented them. I've never taken kindly to my favorite things being taken from me. I brought her back to life, of course. We talked, she offered me her belongings... but there was only so much we could do with her as a corpse. I let her go after a while. It made me think about what I am, what I'm doing. I have power yet no dreams. So, for once, I sought guidance." 

"Is that when you met that man, the one you call your educator?"

Breathing out, you lean back against a wooden pillar. Face glowing beneath the moonlight, the stars glitter in your eyes. "Correct. Out of boredom, I protected this village and lingered near the Red Light District. Later on, I made it my duty to keep these areas clear of maneaters." 

"Ah... there have been rumors of a feline demon roaming that district for quite some time now. Is it safe to assume that has been you?" 

You confirm his assumption, moving on. "For the hatred most of my kind feel humans to be reasonable... is it truly such an unbelievable thing? Is it unjustified? People hate those who have wronged them. How different is it from your hatred of demons?"

"I suppose it is similar... many creatures hurt one another, unfortunately."

You hum in agreement. "Normally, I wouldn't waste my time with such questions... but to be perfectly honest, the way in which your peers treat me is quite bothersome. I am not their adversary." 

"I apologize for their behavior. Given how much you've helped humanity, it's certainly inappropriate. Your patience has been remarkable... I'd guess you know humans feel the same way about demons as you used to about humans."

"Yes... I only wish that understanding would be returned. I am still a living being, who can form bonds and feel emotions. There are still bits inside of me from the kit I once was, the one who sought to be loved by humans."

"The older and more abused a cat is before its transformation, the more power the nekomata has," Gyomei states, tears dribbling down his face once again, "and you are quite the powerful one, (Name)." 

Your eyes grow dark yet dull, hazed over with old, burnt out wrath. Centuries ago have those who wronged you perished. Their bloodlines could not last long, not with the malevolent spirit haunting them. So strong was your wrath, the greatest shamans, priests, and evokers failed to exorcise you. When all mediums failed, all of them were believed to be insane when speaking of visitations from their dead relatives, doomed to a lifetime of loneliness, as they deserved. 

"...and for that reason, they cut the tails from kittens." 

"If the tails cannot fork, the cats cannot become nekomata. Such needless damage..." 

"Exactly... they hurt us, then take away our only method of revenge. We are living beings, not toys to doll up. If we are treated well, there's no need to ever fear us becoming this way. Cutting the tails off so early... it's like they know they will be cruel. They prepare for the consequences instead of thinking about what they are doing wrong." 

"That would apply to demons as well. Kibutsuji's hunt for true immortality would not be necessary if he hadn't hurt so many along the way." 

"Of course... his demons begin as humans. In the end, we all choose to use our lives a certain way. From what I've seen in my many years, choosing cruelty rarely ends well." You stand, brushing off your kimono. "He will fall eventually." 

"That is guaranteed. The Demon Slayer Corps will never disappear until we eradicate all demons from this world." 

The air remains heavy that night, yet you feel as if you understand one another better now. You continue to work with the Demon Slayer Corps, finding entertainment from its members. Most importantly, you seek to better understand Gyomei. Peeking your head out from a shōji screen, you adjust the handkerchief over your head. To your surprise, it is Shinobu who greets you eagerly. 

The eerie woman invites you for a walk. You decide to indulge her, knowing a demon slayer's weapons would not be very effective if she were to attack. However, from her nervous mannerisms as she speaks with you of herbs and the like, you can tell she has other intentions, thoughts she is not so sure about. When you finally confront her about it, her answer surprises you. 

"I guess there's no use in hiding it. Is it true that spirits like yourself can raise the dead, Nekomata-san?" 

"Yes, it is. I rarely feel the need to do so, if you intend on reprimanding me for it." 

"No, that's not it. Could you..." she trails off, voice wavering as her usual confidence wears off. She breathes in through her nose, poised as ever. "Nevermind. It would be a silly request." 

"There's someone you want to see. I can arrange that." You stand up, dusting off your kimono. 

Shinobu blinks, mouth parted. With your nonchalance, one would assume you are headed to get some water from a well, not to raise the dead. Forcing herself to relax, her eyes shift downwards. "I... there's nothing more I could want, but... would that be such a smart thing to do?" 

"Only you can decide that. For some, it's like ripping an old wound open. For others, it's what allows that wound to mend. Which one would it be for you, to speak to that person again?" 

"...I don't know." 

"Do you accept the risk of pain? This revival will only be temporary." 

Her uncertain gaze hardens. "I do. That is irrelevant." 

"Very well. Think of what you want to say to her." You step forward, walking to a clear area of the forest. 

With a sharp twitch of your arms, music echoes in the forest. Dark tunes from the netherworld, drums for the breaking of bones, shamisen for shredded heartstrings. Joining in on the symphony, the bells of your accessories ring with a haunting sound. Gesturing with claws and tails, you sow together the rift between the planes. So your dance begins, ritualistic and powerful, your connection with death incomprehensible to the human eye. 

A strange fire bursts to life. It glows in reds and oranges, then blues and whites. The colors flicker, lingering in one set of shades, only to blink back to the other within a second. The flames follow your smallest movements like loyal, reverent dogs. They burn gently as you slow down, exploding into colors as you flare into the next harsh move. 

Slowly, a spirit emerges from the embers, and you slow to a stop. "Kanae Kocho, you have been summoned. I permit you to speak and move." 

Shinobu's eyes are blown wide, her usual mask crumbling. The question falls from her lips in a fragile whisper. "Kanae... is that really you?"

You step back, allowing the two to reconcile, or whatever it is that they were doing. Their conversation lasts for a while, until something nearly crashes into you. Shocked, your spell releases as you spin to the side. 

"YOU DEMON BASTARD!" Shinaguzawa yells out, trying to slash at you again. "HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT THE DEAD LIKE THAT!" 

"Shinaguzawa-san, stop! I requested (Name)-san to use their powers!" 

The white-haired man lands after you dodged him. "So, you're getting chummy with demons now, huh, Kocho? Is this what she would've wanted, to spare as many of them as possible?!" 

"No," she cuts him off, harsh tone reflecting from her eyes. "I am more convinced than ever. My sister's death will be avenged." 

"I hope that was helpful." You dust your shoulders off, annoyed by the interruption. 

"It was, (Name)-san. Thank you for giving me this chance." 

You are quick to leave after hearing that, letting the pair settle whatever discussion they intended on having. Although necromancy is your forte, the energy drain will always be irritating, no matter how small. So, you seek out the man you have deemed your favorite a long while ago. 

Gyomei lowers the shakuhachi to his lap, a type of flute he mentioned he loves to play. Upon your arrival, he speaks as you sit beside him, having recounted the days events to him as you usually do. "Your dance must have been beautiful... and those offers of using your power over death... they are attempts at comfort, no?" 

"Yes, they are. My understanding of humanity is limited, but wanting closure is something that makes sense to me. Words from those not involved are useless. It's better to give the mourning an opportunity for those to be shared with the deceased." 

"Although I disagree, it brings me joy to hear you care so much." 

"I have felt fear and pain. I have no reason to wish it upon others." 

"Even if that is a simple notion, it is valuable. I have noticed your compassion when we've spoken, and I suspect there is more you haven't shown." 

"Nothing gets past you, it seems. I may as well be honest, then. Against my best wishes, I have fallen in love with you." 

"It appears my guess was correct." A soft smile graces his lips. "I am a deeply distrustful person... but I've grown to believe in you. In the eyes of my heart, I have seen your honesty. As for what's in mine... there are feelings similar to yours." 

A genuine, uncontainable grin spreads across your face. "Is that true? Will you be my betrothed, then?" 

"Ah... what a dreamy sentiment." His lips part in surprise, a small blush rising to his cheeks. "I cannot accept your proposal, not yet at least. In the Demon Slayer Corps there is no guarantee you will live to tomorrow." 

"I'll keep you alive." 

"As much as I love fighting by your side... the dangers of this occupation are not the only reason for this rejection. My religion's thoughts on romance are... complicated, as are my own. I'd like to think this through before we proceed. For now, I am glad to know these feelings are mutual." 

"That is fine with me, I have nothing but time. I worry more for you." 

"I am proud to live and die as a human being. Even if that means I get to experience only a blink this world's beauty." His words linger in the fresh air like last night's rain, in pearly droplets over the grass. Heartache, that is the cold feeling rushing over your chest. Even so, you cannot force him to accept immortality; humans like him are meant to be perfect, fleeting visages. 

"Then I'll let you be my favorite memory, my favorite era." Your fingers pluck the softest, quietest melody on the shamisen. The world slows down as your eyes flutter closed, sky bleeding into the pale shades of a cherry blossom flower. 

"And you will be my only vice, the one thing to make me regret my mortality." Tears pool in his eyes, falling in large streaks. You would tell him it is not the time to mourn yet, but he already knows. These are tears of joy, knowing he has found someone to love. No matter how unconventional, no matter how different you are or how slow you take it, this relationship will shape out into something beautiful, something you vow to carry on even after he passes. 

[jessilynallendilla]

BEN 10 FIC REC

TITLE/LINK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to suggest any

Cold  G 2,161 

Just because Ben isn't an Anodite like Gwen doesn't mean that he doesn't have anything in common with his grandmother. 

Back To The Future?  T 

It should have been a routine in-and-out mission. So when things go wrong (as per usual) and Ben thinks he's dead for sure, he's a bit surprised to find himself waking up in the Rustbucket with a ten-year-old Gwen sleeping on the bunk below him, and the calendar on the RV fridge indicating that it was the middle of June in 2006. 

Arguably, The Second Worst Thing To Happen To Rook Blonko  T 3,849 

Ben and Rook meet as kids, during the same summer Ben got the Omnitrix. When Rook can't be returned to his home planet, he ends up in Max Tennyson's care, and he and Ben become best friends. 

Ben 10 Writing Prompts  G 5,471 

A series of Ben 10 writing prompts on tumblr that people, and I, wanted to be saved onto AO3. Here ya go. 

Black Stripes  M 

With the Omnitrix around his wrist Ben's mission in life is to solely help in creating a better universe, however on a mission with his Grandfather Max he never expected to see just how ugly the universe could really be. With a submissive feline type alien bound to his side in servitude Ben's finding out once again just how ugly the universe is, and just how small he is compared to those who wish to tear him and everyone he loves down. 

Benmommy  G 2,124 

Kenny and Gwendolyn (and Devlin) find out that they have older brothers. Ben attempts to be a parent to his other kids. 

14 Of 10  G 

Set After Vengeance of Vilgax. Ben soon gets word of a Poacher kidnapping fourteen Necrofriggians and leaps into action. After his team rescues his babies, Ben decides it’s better for them to return to Earth and be raised there due to them having more humanity in them, causing other Necrofriggians to isolate them from others of their species. How will the Tennyson’s react with the latest members of their family coming? 

Cross Your Heart (And Hope To Die)  T 150,756 SERIES 

By some cruel twist of fate, it was a freak accident that killed Ben Tennyson. When Rook received a cosmic second chance at undoing the disaster that he blamed himself for, he first thought of it as a blessing. Until the same day repeated again. And again and again and again. 

Metamorphosis  T 

Suddenly, and without explanation, the Omnitrix becomes more. Ben, himself, becomes More. And maybe a little less human along the way. Or, Yes, Rook, Ben’s Eyes Have Always Been This Green, Giving Electric Shocks by Accident is Helpful Actually, How Many Eyes Do Humans Have Anyways, Ben Can Hear Every Equation, The Terrifying Ordeal of One the Most Powerful Tools in The Universe Attached To Your Body, Hey Attaching Alien Technology To Your Body Hurts Actually, The Watch Is Sentient, Ignore Ben's Left Arm It Has Always Been This Black and Green! 

Soccer Moms Drive Minivans  T 3,001 

PTA meetings get infinitely more interesting when one of the parents is barely twenty and also the father of fourteen alien babies. 

Keep the Charm But Don't Break My Heart  T 

There's one thing about Big Chill's Offspring that needs to be said: They'll do anything to find one another but also they're children that still need a bit of help. Luckily, Ben is willing to step in and help them. Or: A series of one-shots centred around each of the children as they find their way back home again. 

CROSSOVERS 

Who Are You?  T 92,750 

Danny was on patrol when he felt a prick on his side. Later on, he wakes up in a cell where a boy is thrown in by mysterious men in black and white uniforms. The two of them becomes friends when another boy their age enters their cell to do his job. The results was unsatisfactory for everyone. What will happen to the three boys? 

Space Hockey And Mothbabies  T 2,941 SERIES 

Danny takes an unexpected trip to the omniverse, Kevin owes Danny a favor, and Ben suffers for his crimes against ghost kind. 

Omni-Justice  NR 1,483 

The Justice League is luckily in a meeting when an alien conqueror issues a challenge to Earth. They began planning almost immediately but Green Lantern put a stop to it instantly. It’s not their challenge to answer so they can not interfere. 

What Is A Kryptonian And Why Is He In My Omnitrix  T 

Ben 10 finds his way into the DC universe. Shenanigans ensue. 

Ben, You're A Mother!?  G 

While in a fight with Captain Cold, Flash discovers a small blue little moth alien that has strayed too far from home. This leads the Justice League down a path of finding out a whole lot of new things about their new teammate and recruit, Ben Tennyson. One of those things being the fact that he is apparently a mother to fourteen little ice moth babies! Hilarity, chaos, and family shenanigans ensue 

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 13/05

@garnetduodecim asked: I always assumed jack spent the first 4 hours in the troll session, before destroying prospit, destroying Aradiabots, there were A LOT of them.

Maybe one of the Aradiabots got in a lucky shot, and was able to tag him with a weaker, non-God Tier variant of her freeze ability. That'd certainly at least delay him.

@morganwick asked: So, you were talking about Aradia "injuring" Vriska (post/704357246751113217) and comparing Vriska to a fairy godmother character (post/722100305374986240)?

@manorinthewoods asked: Serendipity Gospels is by Tamsyn Muir??? Really? Um, that's… hoo. That was one of the fanfics that I didn't end up liking. Might need to revisit that. Side note: 'Doc Scratch's School for Supernaturally Gifted Adolescents' feels more like something Locked Tomb-esque to me. So that's really… ah. ~LOSS (3/5/24)

I do wonder how similar the Gospels are to TLT's writing style.

Actually, can anyone confirm at what point the fic will be safe to read? I could just wait until I'm reading panels from after its publication date, but if I can check it out before, I will.

@abysswarlock asked: Ooh I’ve had this hypothesis for a while now but you just said something that made me lock in my guess that your classpect is Prince of Doom

The classpect wheel continues to turn!

I'm married to Doom for at least one of my 'sonas, but my Class is still up in the air, since we know even less about them than aspects.

@manorinthewoods asked: As a sort of Part 2 to that sylladex comment - how do you think the Sylladex works? Do you think that Homestuck will go into more detail about Sylladices, or do you think they'll fade into the background as different aspects of the magic system come to the fore? ~LOSS (24/4/24)

I think the latter is a lot more likely. Most aspects (lol) of Homestuck's magic system are there to serve the story first and foremost. As much as I'd love the comic to turn into a treatise on Sburb deeplore, it really doesn't feel like something Hussie would be interested in doing.

The story won't really suffer without, say, a detailed explanation of every facet of alchemy - I just really like speculating, because I'm all about shit like that.

@heliotropopause asked: What are your thoughts on Homestuck's translation convention(s)? As an example, take page 2251, line "Arrivederci, Megido.": Is she writing in something close enough to Earth English to scan as such to the reader, no translation necessary? Is Vriska saying a word in Troll Italian, which gets translated to Earth Italian? Is she expressing a sentiment in her usual language that's best translated as the word "arrivederci" as it's used in English? Has Doc Scratch secretly been translating all cross-species communication we've seen so far?

Vriska's arrivederci seems diegetic to me. If we inherited English from Alternia, it makes sense that some of our other languages might come from there too.

tl;dr: Troll Italy is real 🇮🇹

Anonymous asked: im not one to dip my toes into The Vriscourse but this one piece of analysis i really liked is that vriska is jealous of tavros, that hes had a much easier life compared to her and that hes allowed to be more of a wimp while she has to be the toughest fuck alive or else shell die

It's only one piece of the Vriska-Tavros puzzle, but it's an important one. She'll refuse to acknowledge it to the end, though, because the idea of being jealous of Tavros is disgusting to her.

@obscureaeguran asked: Are there any current theories of yours that you want to be wrong about?

Confident as I am in my Vriska death theory, I don't actually want to be right.

I really like Vriska's character, and I want to see her grow past the worldview that's preventing her from finding peace. I just don't think that's likely, given her current trajectory.

Anonymous asked: 'In what universe are 13-year-olds the people most qualified to make universes?' well per the beta version of homestuck (when hussie wanted to make the whole thing in flash before deciding against it) they were all going to be 10 instead, i think this is the much better option!

How young can we go, anyway?

AU where the Homestuck Babies aren't sent to Earth at all, and just start playing immediately.

@manorinthewoods asked: Have you played Deltarune? ~LOSS (9/4/24)

I have! I was actually replaying it on day one of the liveblog - hence the several references I made to it at the time. That feels forever ago, now.

@bladekindeyewear asked: Jade changed pretty drastically as a person after her dreamself died, if you think about it— demanding Feferi stop using her quirk in chat, standing up to the trolls for the first time, getting angry, to such an extent that Karkat was so surprised that it turned his opinion of her around completely in a single conversation. Even forcing a password system to keep talks linear instead of using cloud visions to do everything out of order. This doesn’t just feel to me like dream Jade being a “different individual”, it also feels like a metaphorical confrontation between her NEW self and her OLD self…

I think it's both.

Jade's been through a lot in the last couple of hours, and she really isn't the same girl who died on Prospit.

Being an oracle of Skaia's visions led to disaster. They showed her that John's Dream Self would awaken, leading her to believe she was finally going to meet him, but neglected to mention that she'd die the moment he opened his eyes - or that Prospit would die alongside her.

As a result, the new Jade seems to have made a decision to completely reject all prophetic information. She'll supply the minimum possible intel to her past self, and no more.

It's clear her Dream Self's death was a catalyst for a pretty dramatic shift in her worldview. She's angry - at the trolls, at herself, and at the world that betrayed her trust. She's tired of being jerked around, and her tumultuous emotions are making her rather testy. Basically, she's sick of all the bullshit, and she won't take it from anyone anymore.

Jadesprite has experienced the same catalyst, and has also come to mistrust the clouds, but for different reasons.

Jade rejects prophecies, in part, because she doesn't want to be deceived - but Jadesprite rejects them out of sheer hopelessness. She just doesn't care anymore.

They both have the same trauma, but they're dealing with it in very different ways - and at this point, I really do consider them to be different people.

And then on a metaphorical level, Jadesprite represents the 'silly', absent-minded childhood self that got Jade into this mess.

I think this taunt from Karkat hit very, very close to home for her, and I'm sure she associates the traits he described with her idyllic days on Prospit. It's part of why Dream Jade is such a perfect target for her fury.

@spyril4132 asked: i beg to differ on the entry item similarities only applying to prospit. iirc, rose shatters a bottle, and dave hatches an egg; both involve breaking open some sort of "shell", and neither are associated with a larger object, which could be seen as similar types of items. (while jade does break a piñata, she does so by shooting it, not by splitting it apart)

It's true that Rose and Dave's object's have some physical similarities, but John and Jade are both summoning the same tree, which feels like a much stronger connection.

Rose and Dave's entry cards also summoned auxiliary items, but they were different - a cabinet and bird, respectively. From where I'm sitting, the link between the two Prospit items does seem unique.

@skelekingfeddy asked: what herptiles would sally and sahlee have as their consorts? i feel like a monitor lizard would fit for one of them…maybe losas has like, turtle or tortoise consorts, what with their long-livedness and the wise sagely vibe and all.

I was thinking pretty much the same thing for Sahlee. Let's say they're Galápagos tortoises, because the Sage gives me Oogway vibes.

For Sally's Consorts, I'm going to get really funky and say they're a type of pterosaur.

@sparten4ever92 asked: The HS version of Megalovania is slept on way too much, the Vriska guitar adds so much to it that the UT version just doesn't have. @sanctferum asked: Finally, MeGaLoVania by Toby Fox (feat. Joren "Tensei" deBruin on guitar)! Would you say that Tavros had an…unpleasant chronological progression? (btw I do love the bit of Spider's Claw that plays during the Vriska segment, which is (obviously) unique to this Megalovania) also, the audiovisual style of homestuck flashes is just really cool imo @mimescantscream asked: You have no idea how long we've waited for the Megalovania

This version of Megalovania was a great choice for Aradia's finest hour - or at least, her finest hour so far.

It's moments like this which are why I decided to stop listening to the albums in advance. If I hadn't first heard Aradia's Megalovania in this flash, it wouldn't have hit the way it did.

@elkian asked: MEGALOVANIA TIME BAYBEEEE! Also, let's go back to that theory you had about Aradia getting more alive, because you NAILED it. @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: i am so excited to see aradia again and finally as herself :33<

She's fucking BACK, baby!

Seeing Aradia smiling for real after all this time is genuinely heartwarming - and with her time-stop attack, she's almost unkillable. It'd take some absolute nonsense to take Aradia out of the picture again, and I think she'll be sticking around for a long time. Hopefully forever.

@grippingtraverse asked: notice any similarities during megalovania between aradia vs. jack & sans vs. player? 0u0

The best I can come up with is that Aradia and Frisk are both time travelers whose signature color is red.

Or maybe Jack is the Frisk analogue, since he's the one wiping out all life in the session, and Aradia is the last foe he faces.

@captorations asked: please consider, with this new information about aradia, what it could mean for her literary descendant dulcie septimus. please also keep considering this as you continue and see more of aradia. i am very normal about both of these characters

Ooh, they do have similar vibes, don't they? They're both doomed, they're strongly associated with death, and they both have a cheerful side that comes out when you don't expect it to.

@duorogue asked: "You have to give Nepeta some credit. The literal first thing she did after this traumatic murder was log into Trollian and report on Jack’s activities." To be fair to her, when I have a bad nightmare the first thing I do is log onto discord

nepeta hopping on mic at 2am to complain about the hat man (the hat man is doc scratch)

@absinthe-and-alabaster asked: when the writ keeper was introduced as fifth exile you mentioned that it was a little fucked up how the king was the only prospitian that was preserved - i just wanted to remind you that no, he wasn't ! on page 1974 we see all the other prospitians that were exiled with the white queen on her ship (including ms paint!) WQ just left them to go wander the desert

I'd actually forgotten about that. So much happened during the Act 4 ending that it completely slipped my mind. I even missed Ms. Paint!

Anonymous asked: Hey, as you noticed, the Dave Coin Split is a plot hole. We've never seen the timeline split because of someone's choice before. Compare to John flying to the seventh gate, there weren't two timelines based on his choice, the timeline only changed because Dave came back from the original timeline and changed it. And of course, like you said in the tags, Terezi shouldn't have been able to communicate with Doomed Dave, including to tell him the result of the FL1P. Have you noticed any other plot holes or things that don't seem to make sense?

While I see what you're saying, it might not necessarily be a plot hole! Certainly the Dave Coin Timeline was created in a different manner to Davesprite's - but that might just mean there are multiple ways to split a timeline, or that there are certain requirements that must be fulfilled for a decision to spawn one.

Because of things like that, it's hard to tell whether something's actually a plot hole, or if it'll eventually make sense in light of later reveals.

This is particularly true for aspects of the plot involving time travel, like the one you just described. Like, remember before I learned about Doomed Timelines, when I thought Davesprite broke Homestuck's predestination rules?

Anonymous asked: You said "God Tiering is just another way to inhabit your Dream Self," so do you think the things that Dream Selves can do (such as Jade growing extra arms) can be done by God Tiers?

I never really thought about that!

I think it's definitely possible. God Tier bodies can fly the same way that Dream Selves can, so other powers might transfer, too. Maybe the only reason Vriska, Aradia and John aren't shapeshifters is because Jade hasn't taught them to how to dream up extra limbs.

She might be one of the only Dream Selves who've learned how to shapeshift this fluidly. Logging thousands of hours on Prospit has its perks!

[djarins-cyare]

Hey Jem

Can we have a peek at The Last of Us inspired Mando fic from your WIP folder?

Love, El

Hey El, thanks for the ask!

I had a feeling someone would ask about this one. It’s the most recent idea in my WIP folder, and since I’ve been busy writing Hush, I haven’t actually written any scenes from it yet 🥺. But I have done some casual research and written an outline, so I’ll share everything I can about it…

In the Legends continuity, there’s a planet in the Mid Rim called Nyriaan with a very rich but unusual ecosystem that includes thousands of different species of fungi. It’s not a particularly populous planet, with just a mining colony that settled there to extract madilon ore (used in hyperdrives) and some groups who’ve crash-landed on the planet throughout the ages and have effectively become ‘natives’.

That’s the other thing about Nyriaan: it’s covered by a thick cloud layer that blocks communications and makes it extremely difficult to land on the planet’s surface. To land safely, you need assistance from an ion shield generator in orbit, which projects an ion shield around the ship to protect it from the constant storms.

My story is set when Grogu is away at Jedi Camp, and Din is chasing a lucrative bounty because he has little else to keep his mind off missing Grogu, plus he needs to make money to buy a new ship and find his covert. The tracking fobs say she’s on Nyriaan, which is listed as her homeworld, but two other bounty hunters went there to retrieve her, and neither returned. Now Din is taking a shot.

He is more cautious, though – we know he’s a good hunter, and part of that is because he does his research. He finds reports that Nyriaan went ‘dark’ a few years back. This wasn’t initially a concern because everyone already knew you couldn’t communicate through its weird magnetic field anyway, except no communications were coming from the crew manning the ion shielding station in orbit anymore. The New Republic sent teams to investigate, but nobody ever returned, not even from the orbital station.

Usually, the loss of a mining operation would be a concern, but the New Republic has cut its losses for two reasons. Firstly, in 8 BBY, the Empire implemented a new mining technology to mass-strip the planet of its madilon ore, and over 10 years, much of its resources were depleted (not to mention a quarter of the planet’s land mass was destroyed). Following the project’s destruction by Rebel insurgents in 2 ABY, mining had halted almost entirely anyway. And secondly, Nyriaan is not a “member world”, having not signed the Charter, so if any further disaster has befallen its citizens, they’re on their own.

Now that Din knows even more people have gone there and never returned, he has even more reason to be cautious. He can’t find any other information, and he can’t convince anyone to accompany him on the job, so he’s going alone.

He leases a ship with a carbon freezer (since he hasn’t yet got his own after the Crest was destroyed, and he needs something to bring back the bounty in), gathers his best weapons, and flies to Nyriaan’s orbital station. There, he has his first encounter with strange zombies who try to attack him. They’re covered in lesions that look like fungus, and their skin is grey. Thanks to his beskar protecting him, he has a lucky escape and manages to activate the ion shield for a limited amount of time, then gets back to his ship and rides the shield down to the planet’s surface through the storms.

He lands just outside Locus, the planet’s mining settlement – technically the capital city, having been established 100 years before, but more the size of a town than a city, with a population of only a few thousand people. But something has been niggling him about the way those zombies looked…

Din suddenly remembers reading about a parasitic fungus on Nyriaan called “Falsin’s rot”, which causes lesions like the ones he noticed, although it usually kills the victims. He rechecks his research before he leaves the ship to make sure, and another entry catches his eye: there’s another fungus called “tempest’s blessing”, which lives in symbiosis with a host organism and increases the host’s visual acuity. He learns that native Nyriaanans would sometimes use tempest’s blessing in their purifying rituals, applying the spores (that look like grey dust) to their bodies. That explains the grey skin.

What he doesn’t understand at this point is that these two species have crossbred (insert some terrifying ecological catalyst for this mutation thanks to the Empire’s strip-mining operation on Nyriaan), causing the symbiotic tempest’s blessing to take on the parasitic properties of Falsin’s rot, killing the host and taking over their body so it can become ambulatory.

Thus, we have a TLOU sitch on our hands.

There follows an epic adventure wherein Din has to navigate this scary landscape with a few thousand fungus zombies out to get him as he tries to track down his bounty, who obviously turns out to be gorgeous and capable (she’s gotta be to survive in this nightmare place). They have to fight for their lives to escape, and of course, the orbital station is unmanned (except for zombies), so there’ll be no ion shield to protect Din’s ship when he tries to leave the planet, meaning he’s a little bit trapped here. As is she – it turns out she had no idea what had befallen her homeworld, and she wants off as much as he does. So they must work together to find a way to survive and escape.

And of course they’re gonna fall in love while they do.

That’s about all I’m willing to reveal plot-wise for now!

All the little details already existed in Star Wars, albeit Legends rather than Canon (the source for Nyriaan’s history is a 2010 RPG called Galaxy of Intrigue, which was excluded from Disney’s list of Canon material), but I just loved how much was already there to draw on. There are some other nifty little factoids about this planet, too, like the fact that in 3956 BBY, a Sith starship crashed on Nyriaan, and the survivors’ descendants inbred until they eventually became deformed subhumans known as the Children of the Tempest, who howled like beasts and hunted with spears on the steamfields outside the city. Their Sith leader, Darth Glovoc, was placed in stasis after the crash, and they revered him as a sleeping deity. Of course, the mutant fungus infects them, creating an even freakier and more dangerous type of zombie than the regular human miners Din encounters on the orbital station and in the city… and what happens if the fungus infects Darth Glovoc?? Do we have a boss-level zombie with Sith powers on our hands?!

One day, I’ll actually write it, and you’ll find out!

[thebullshiteveryonecallsfor]

Cultural Differences?

Peter Parker (MCU) / spidersona!reader (platonic)

Notes: first fic alert !! English is not my first language, sorry if some words are yk weird🧍‍♂️No use of (Y/N), neutral pronouns

Traveling between universes was one thing. Getting stuck in one because of a faulty gear was another. In the midst of traveling, lowkey turning away from some assigned work from Miguel, you didn’t expect for the dimension travel watch to burst, creating a mini explosion. Though warned by your spider senses, it was still a bit of a shock– visually and literally– losing momentum during a swing almost falling to your death (exaggeration), you managed to refocus and zip yourself onto the nearest edge of a building. Sitting on the ledge, you inspected the watch on your wrist and tried to assess the problem.

“Motherfucker…” Suddenly remembering the last conversation you had with another Spider-Man, Hobie Brown.

“Let me borrow some, I’ll bring it back, I swear on it.” He mentioned while making himself busy with your watch when you were busy with your own work, thoroughly distracted, not fully paying attention, and simply waved him off with, “‘Kay, ‘kay.”

He did in fact ‘borrow’ some parts of the watch, he did also in fact had not brought any of said borrowed items back to you. So far the watch was okay, and this was supposedly the biggest hiccup you currently have on the road– when worst comes to worst, you had to find the sorcerer supreme of this universe and frankly, you really don’t want to face Strange after a petty beef you had with a different Strange from a different universe. Welp, let’s hope he doesn’t notice your presence.

“C’mon, c’mon…” You tapped repeatedly on the screen of the watch, watching the screen spasm for a bit before showing the universe code. Hmm, earth-199999. Never been here before. Not that much of a new experience for you but it was still a bit nerve wracking being in a new universe, who knows how different you knew from the usual. You turned off the device, trying to salvage the power as best as you could.

“Alright, find a Spider-Person,” you stood up, lightly cracking your neck, “get some tools, get the fuck out.”

Hunting down a Spider-Person took a bit of time but it gave you the opportunity to check out the city we all know and love. It looked like New York City with a bunch of different stores and whatnot– there was an Avenger tower but no Oscorp, no F4 tower either, Nelson & Murdock was spotted, and the sanctum was there. Other than that it was the good ol’ concrete jungle where some dreams were made of.

The sun was starting to set and throughout the day you managed to hear some small news about another Spider-Man swing around the city. Some speculated Spidey with a new suit, others were saying that you were to continue his legacy, some said that you were a copycat. At this point you were ready to give up and show up to the sanctum like a kid going up to their parents room telling them that you frew up. Then, some screams broke out.

You swung into the scene as quickly as you usually do. In mid air, you shot your web at a trash can and swung it to the nearest criminal robbing a store whose glass wall was already broken through. “Can’t believe I didn’t get invited to your mask party!” You jumped in, taking down one of the criminals, “Is it because my mask isn’t matching yours?”

“The insect’s here!” One of the masked men yelled over.

“Insect?!” You gasped with faux offense, webbing a potted plant and threw it to another masked man, “I’ll have you know spiders are a part of a different animal kingdom group.”

Shooting a web over the holes of some guns, with one of the guns still stuck to your current web you flung it to one of the masked men. “Spiders are the largest order of arachnids and rank seventh in total species in diversity among all orders of organisms!” You fought and dodge your way to stop these masked men, occasionally webbing one or two stuck to the wall. “All credits to wikipedia for that one, can’t live without it even when many professionals don’t fuck with it.”

“Who the hell are you?!” One spluttered out after going down from a punch he received by you.

“Well, I’m simply the Neighborhood Spider,” You simply replied, dodging bullets that someone was spraying with their gun.

It felt like time had slowed, your senses heightened, the tingles intensified. “Hey! I think you lost this!” A heavy metal mailbox came hurling through the already broken glass window/wall, directly hitting the masked man that was fighting you and sending said man and the other goons behind him to the wall. You quickly webbed them there– that was the last of them. And finally you saw their resident Spider-Man landing in front of you. Now standing mask to mask as the pained groans of the criminals blended in with the chaos surrounding them.

“Good job here!” Spider-Man commented, his hands on his hips as he looked around the aftermath. All the criminals webbed up in one way or another, the store in chaos with furniture all over the place, and broken glass covering half of the floor. “You look new here.”

“I am,” You tilted your head out of amusement, trying to guess who was behind the mask, “And that’s a problem.”

You walked to the counter, peering over the edge to see a shaken store clerk. After a few comforting words, you and Spider-Man managed to get the staff out to the open as the sound of sirens blared in the distance.

“That’s our cue,” Spider-Man said, his head slightly tilted as he caught sounds of the incoming law enforcements. “Stay safe and talk about this experience to another person! Don’t bottle it up! You’d feel so much better, trust me!” The Spider-People swung out of the crime scene just in time for the police to arrive.

“Think we can talk?” You asked as you followed beside him.

He simply glanced to the side, “You do owe some explanation.”

“Don’t I know it.”

They arrived at the top of the Avengers tower, standing a few feet away from one another both equally distrusting. Not that much from you though, already meeting a bunch of different Spider-People do that to you.

“Who are you?” Spider-Man asked, the eyes of his mask squinted as he assessed you.

“Whoa, how’d you do that?” You asked, startled yet interested at the sight of his lenses.

Widening his eyes, they stared at each other before his eyes squinted and widened multiple times then one lens widened while the other squinted and it went back and forth for a bit; you watched it with a daze as the two Spider-People were stuck there kind of entertaining one another. It was so.. unique. You had seen that type of thing before but in a more animated universe. Hectic week, crazy experience. They were stuck there for some minute before a small electrical burst happened on the watch again, breaking the bubble they were in.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, feeling an electric zap from the burst, finally taking off the watch and lightly threw it on the floor. Both of you watched as the device’s screen glitched aggressively before succumbing to its end as a small smoke emerged from the crevice of said device.

“Fuck..” You sighed as you helplessly watched your broken watch.

“Sorry about that..” Spider-Man apologized, though it ended off like a question rather than a statement of sorts.

You waved him off, “Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault–”

“Well, I thought it broke in the fight,” he shrugged, guilt visible in gesture and voice, “a fight that I should’ve helped in.”

“Man, you’re fine, honestly! The watch broke hours ago– literally after I arrived here.”

“In Queens?”

“This dimension.”

A moment of silence gape their conversation. Both Spider-People were staring at one another. You stood there waiting for his response as Spider-Man looked at you in.. who knows what behind those white lenses. It was slowly starting to get awkward while you stood there, your right hand scratching the back of your neck.

“What..?”

“Thought you died there,” an awkward chuckle left your lips, “can’t have earth-1610 happening too here. You sound way too young.”

“What?!”

“..Ignore what I said.”

“Uh, no?” He revoked such a statement. “I died?!”

“Dude,” you came over, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, “everyone dies in the end. Circle of life. Learned that from Lion King.”

“No– what? – I know that,” he shook his head as if he snapped out of a stance, pushing your hand away while he walked backwards away from you.

“Okay, then don’t think about it?"

“I seriously can’t?”

He shook his head once more, “Gah! Who even are you?” He finally asked, his tone full of suspicion. “And why do you have.. my powers?”

Well, Spider-People got to know one another right?

You took off your mask, feeling the New York breeze finally hitting your face. A small grin decorated your face. With a casual tone, in hopes to not to scare him off, you introduced yourself: your hero name, real name, and dimension code.

“I was doing a bit of dimension hopping,” you gave a bit of information, “but some parts of the gear were stolen and it got fried when I landed here.”

Again with the silence. Your patience slowly thinned.

Peter was a slight bit busy at the glaring answer to his question: are the multiverse real? This other Spider-Person who had crash landed here had proven to be real and correct. Ever since his once in a while idle talk with Doctor Strange led about other universes– dimensions– the multiverse, he needed to know more. But it was hard to pry any sort of answer from the sorcerer for he easily deflected certain questions and the spider easily being led to a new topic– it goes in a circle, the cycle never ends.

“You’re Peter, right? Peter Parker?” You spoke again, hoping to get some kind of reaction, “unless you’re Ben Reilly? Or someone completely different. Each universe is unique on its own–”

“You know me?” Eyes lightly sparkled at the mention of his familiarness. His curiosity somewhat overpowered his guard. Dumbass (affectionately).

“Parker or Reilly–”

“Parker Peter– Peter Parker!”

“Well, I know of you,” you shrugged, trying to make this as casual as ever even though your nerves were straight to the roof– sometimes you wonder if your own nerves could differentiate between ‘asking ketchup from the waiter’ with ‘being held at gunpoint’. “Peter Parker is widely known as the guy who basically created all of us– well, not like in a god type of way, more or so a domino effect kind of thing.”

His face scrunched up, staring at you confused, “All of us?”

You smiled at him, slightly amused, “The Spider-People. From all across the universe. Of course not all of them would be Peter Parker, but dude’s, like, the pioneer of us basically– us who aren’t Peter Parker. With the spider bites, the stories, and all that”

“Like you..” he concluded. His mind racing with questions and building theories. “You’ve met other Spider-People?”

“A few, more or less,” you answered, “not everyone though, there’s like.. thousands of Spider-People probably. And not every story is the same– similar, not identical.”

Another beat of silence. Man, he really likes peace, huh.

It felt weird having this conversation. A person knew who he was, and knew other versions of him, and others like them that weren’t him him. It took a while before he took off his mask as well.

And, gods, he looked young– like Miles Morales young. Eyes wide, baby face, and all, he must still be in high school right?

“Are you in kindergarten?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, a tad bit offended at her comment, “No?”

“You’re so young..”

“So, are you!"

“Why thank you. And you look like you don’t age a day over 13.”

Red hue colored his cheeks as he sputtered, “I am 16. I’m grown enough!”

“Jesus christ,” you lightly grimaced, scratching the back of your neck once more, “can’t believe these criminals are fighting someone who’s still doing calculus.”

You sometimes forget how young Peter Parker was when he got bitten by the radioactive spider and how young he was taken on the title as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man with all those responsibilities on his shoulder as he ventured more and more into heavier crime while simultaneously still helping around the community. He should be in a club right now, doing underaged drinking. Or reading Jane Austen for his english class.

“Anyhow–” you continued on as he rambled out some kind of excuse, “you’re Peter Parker, still in high school, that means you– who have you fought so far actually?”

“Uhm, the Vulture, Team Captain–”

“Team Captain?” you interrupted out of surprise, “wait civil war already happened here?”

“Well, it was Team Iron Man–”

“Versus Team Captain America, right. But that’s..” you looked away from him, starting to slowly pace around, racking your mind trying to remember certain canon events in certain universes. Still crazy though, he was 16 now, gods know how old he was when he fought that battle. “I mean, I guess– wait, you were on Iron Man’s side?” You paused immediately and stared at him.

“Well, yeah, Mr. Stark offered to help him after school,” he retold, a bit bashful remembering the day he found Tony Stark conversing with Aunt May in the living room like it was the most normal thing ever, “and well, it’s Tony Stark, you know, can’t really refuse him..”

You blinked, then blinked again. Right, different universes. “Weird but.. okay, I guess,” you stared some more, “did you know what they were fighting about?”

“Uh, not exactly?”

“Yeah, that checks it,” you knew for a fact that Spider-Man would’ve sided with Captain America– hell, it was known he sided with Cap!

“What? –”

“Let’s forget about that,” you waved it off, not wanting to discuss further into it which could end up in some kind of argument and that was not what you wanted now. What you wanted– needed right now was help, tech help. And maybe, finally do the task given for you. “I need a favor. Some tools to fix up my watch here,” you nodded towards the broken watch on the floor, “and I’ll be out of your hair like my situation never happened.”

It took a few minutes for you to convince Peter not to go into the Avengers lab. Listen, they’re great and all but you truly had no desire to face a hero other than Spider-Man, or reluctantly Doctor Strange, to not create this situation into a bigger issue. And so, Peter brought them over to his school’s lab, Midtown High School. Doing so, he invited two of his trusted confidants over.

It was night time already and both his confidants were present in the lab. Turning off the CCTVs was easy, sneaking in as Spider-People were easier.

And so they stood side by side whilst his close friends stood across them.

“Right, so, Mary Jane Watson and Harry Osborn, right?”

The three of them exchanged confused glances with one another.

“No..?” Peter corrected you, a small frown found its way to his face, “this is Michelle Jones and Ned Leeds.”

“Ned Leeds..?” you lightly question, eyes slightly squinted though you managed to school your expression. Harry Osborn was one thing but Ned Leeds? Man, no matter where Peter was he seemed to attract a goblin one form or the other. What the hell, sure. “Right.. Of course. And Michelle Jones, MJ?”

MJ simply nodded, her gaze hardened with distrust as she assessed you. Ned gave you a small smile with an equally small wave.

“Excuse us for a second.” MJ said, her hand shot through grabbing Peter by the arm and brought her, Peter, and Ned further away from you. Though a bit annoying but understandable. They don’t trust you, you don’t care much, you just wanted to leave. So, you filled the idling time by checking out certain tools and gears as you tried to mentally remember what you needed to fix your watch.

-

“Can we trust them?” MJ asked immediately, she had her own growing suspicion about another Spider-Person suddenly showing up and needed help. If anything, she thought that her vigilance was highly needed in a situation like this. “Do you trust them, Peter?”

“I mean, sort of?” he spluttered, his eyes stuck in the fiery gaze behind MJ’s eyes. “Well, we talked for a bit. They already knew my identity, they identified themself to me. Backstory, backstory, they’re..fine.”

Rather than fully focusing on the conversation he was dragged into, Ned’s eyes were stuck on you without your knowledge. “From another universe, huh.” Ned had always wondered about the multiverse. Ever since Peter told him about Doctor Strange and his magic, he had wanted to ask more about it but it seemed that there was never a free time for either to converse about such a topic. Either that or Peter had been saying that Doctor Strange had no time as an excuse because Doctor Strange did not want to share more of the knowledge to those outside his little sorcerer community. Gatekeeper much. Not to mention the tingles. Ned’s lola said that he had magic in his blood. Or something like that.

It took some more convincing from Peter for them to finally help you out.

MJ sat a bit further away with a laptop on hand, Ned sat beside her whilst Peter was by your side fiddling with the watch as you created a new part to replace the stolen ones.

“So, you’re, like, another Spider-Man– Woman? – Person? –” Ned slightly freaked out as he tried to find the right term to describe you.

“Arachnid,” you calmly cut in, “I’m known as Arachnid in my universe.” You continued on, still focusing on your fixing, occasionally glancing towards the boy. “I usually go solo, sometimes Peter or Miles ask a hand for help, other than that I’m on my own.”

“Who’s Miles?” Peter asked, raising one brow at you.

You froze, looking at his questioning gaze. An awkward grin fought through, “You know in my universe, Peter is older than me, so when I got bit he was basically my mentor til I got on my own footing.”

Peter and Ned shared excited glances while MJ’s expression remained passive.

“A mentor?” Peter never had thought of being someone to be looked up at. Maybe to some younger civilians but to someone who went through something that he personally went through and needed the guidance. Now that was something else. As far as his career as a crime fighting vigilante, he was quite in his early days with Tony Stark as a well known leading figure in this type of life. He wondered if the Peter of your universe had that type of mentorship. “I– He helped you?”

“Well, duh doy,” you shrugged casually, successfully diverging the conversation into a new topic. You did not want to unpack that type of lore onto this situation. “He’s the one and only Spider-Man, and I suddenly got the same type of powers as him? he was literally my only chance to understand.”

“You said, your Peter was older? How old is he exactly?” Ned asked this time.

“Mid 20’s,” you smiled, suddenly remembering his dorky face in your mind, “great guy, mentor and all that. But a great guy in general. He’s clearly passionate about crime fighting, doing the good things, and all that other stuff. Hella smart too.”

Peter smiled at this. It was so weird hearing it though. Factually, they were talking about him but not him? Him but from a different world. Older, still Spider-Man, a mentor– getting compliments from his mentee? Mind boggling.

Your smile slowly dimmed as a small frown grew, “He’s a great mentor, really but I hate his ass sometimes, you know.”

Peter’s smile dropped, so did Ned’s. MJ’s slightly upturned expression has fallen as well.

“I– You have to know,” your focus on fixing now put aside as you started ranting, “that motherfucker had me doing physics workbooks! Physics workbooks!”

“Like, I get that physics is everywhere, especially during swinging, I get it, honest to the gods. But my fucking gods, he got me doing not one, not two, but five physics workbooks that I almost shoved up his ass, no offence.”

In an instant Peter’s smile grew back faster. Though slightly embarrassed even though it wasn’t even him that did all that, it still made his cheeks slightly colored as he let out a small laugh, “None taken. I just didn’t expect a lot of.. academic type of learning in your spider training.”

You scoffed, a small amused smile replacing your frown, “Yeah me neither. Me and M– and I always gave him shit for that everytime I had the chance.”

Idle chats continued on to fill in the silence. It was well into the night as they stayed in the lab. The music that was previously played by Ned from the laptop had to be ended to ensure that they don’t make too much noise and get caught.

“So, Liz Allan’s dad is the Vulture?” you asked incredulously.

“You didn’t know?” Ned asked back, surprised at the question itself he had to look away from his laptop to look at you.

You scratched the back of your neck out of habit, “Well, I was more so busy trying to apprehend him and not getting killed when he escaped.”

“He escaped?!” Peter backtracked, shocked and slightly tired hearing that.

“Well it was.. complicated. Can’t tell you though, not sure if it’s gonna happen here or not. Just keep an eye out,” you shrugged casually, not too sure how to handle accidently dropping another lore bomb on them. “Considering that you’re still in high school, your major antagonists are still underway to ‘peak’ more or less.”

“Also, Peter, love your moral code and all that, but if you ever meet a guy named Cletus Kasady, kill him. No questions asked. He’s already a murderer, so you might as well give him death row,” you faced him, eyes slightly widened trying to convey how serious you were, “and I’m saying this in the goodness, selfishness of giving you a bit of a spoiler so you and the others don’t suffer through all that.”

“And tread cautiously if you ever meet Taskmaster. Pain in the ass, fun guy, but a pain nonetheless.” You sighed, before turning back to your gizmo, “Hopefully this doesn’t come back and bite me in the ass. Miguel scares the shit out of me.”

“Who’s Miguel?” This time MJ finally spoke up to you. The past hour MJ simply nodded along or gave simple hums at certain words, occasional one liner but mostly to Peter and Ned; she still didn’t trust you, understandable. A random person having spider powers, knowing Spider-Man’s true identity, and had traveled through the multiverse– as amazing as it sounded, you were still a stranger. “In fact, let’s start from the top. You mentioned Mary Jane Watson and Harry Osborn. Then someone named Miles. Never brought them up again,” she shrugged with faux casualness, she simply wanted to know their affiliations; whether she should be concerned or not.

You put out a small smile, you rarely meet a Mary Jane variation and this was your first meet– and so far, you respected her decision to keep you at arms length rather than diving head first by being buddy-buddy with you.

“Mary Jane Watson is your variant,” you started off, “known as Peter’s.. close friend. Same as Harry Osborn,” you quirked your head to the side, discreetly nodding towards Ned– trying to convey the message that the other close friend was rather replaced.

“Am I a variant of him?” Ned asked this time, curiosity plagued him.

“Nah, it looks like that in this universe Harry had been swapped with you,” you explained, slightly cringing at the relation both Harry and Ned had towards Peter in other universes. “not much of a worry really. The both of you are pretty… similar.” Oh, yeah, so very similar.

A small frown formed on Ned’s face, “Oh no, does that mean I’m, like, disrupting this timeline or something?”

“No, Ned,” you chuckled, amused at his panic, “the universe is big and not everything is the same way. So, if Ned Leeds is the close friend of Peter Parker, instead of Harry Osborn, then the timeline is set fine.”

“Besides, I’m not fully sure if Harry exists here. Or that you guys just simply never crosspaths– or not yet– some say you guys meet him in college but who knows, time’s all wibbly wobbly,” you shrugged, “either way, Oscorp doesn’t seem to exist here– big ass tower, in the same area of the Avengers tower too.”

Before you could even ramble more about Oscorp, MJ took the lead, “And Miles?”

You smirked, remembering his goofy face everytime you and Miles made fun of Peter. “Great dude, also a vigilante. He’d sometimes team up with Peter Spider-Man and me.”

“You might meet him,” your smirked lightly faltered yet you schooled your expression accordingly, “let’s hope it goes well this time.”

“What does that mean?”

You shrugged, keeping up with that same smirk. “Petty beef,” you lied through your teeth. “Then again Peter is always beefing with someone one way or another. Nothing serious though between them, it's more goofy than antagonistic.” Now that was true.

“Same with Daredevil, not sure about Iron Fist though, I barely met the guy.”

“I teamed up with The Devil from Hell's Kitchen?” Peter asked, peeking up from his tinkering work.

“Uh, I guess not yet?” You lightly cringed, cursing yourself accidently dropping another future interaction. This shit’s hard. You never knew what the timeline for each universe would be, so some hiccups were expected, but still, fuckin’ dumbass. “I mean, it’s kind of expected, right? Two New York vigilantes teaming up at some point. But it’s not always a team up, you guys still usually go solo.”

“Yeah..” Peter sighed, lowkey in a daze as if he got into some type of daydream.

MJ nodded along, listening to your words, scrutinizing your expressions. She wasn’t fully sure to trust you just through words but considering she couldn’t ask for much evidence, this was enough for now. “Could we ask more?”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, absolutely! Love to share. Can’t tell you everything though.”

“Understandable,” MJ nodded.

And so, you treaded lightly through the conversation; making sure you didn’t expose anymore certain events, people– whether they were allies or antagonists, or even the ‘normal’ life side of Peter’s or yours. The conversation went on as their topics finally diverged from talking about the different Spider-Man’s universe to anything else. The broken watch had been repaired long ago, now leaving the occupiers chatting animatedly.

“I’m not that.. into it?”

“What?!” Both Peter and Ned gasped dramatically. Their conversation now dive deep into film interests.

“It’s sci-fi movies! Your life is a sci-fi movie with all that universe traveling!” Ned tried to reason, his hands joining the conversation just as animatedly. “Well, except the spaceship, the aliens, and space hierarchy– still sci-fi-esque!”

“It’s a shit ton of movies,” you huffed trying to defend yourself. “And TV series.”

“So, is Doctor Who,” MJ pointed out, clocking you immediately, “and it came out in the 60’s, older than Star Wars.”

You gaped at her, hand clenched in front of your chest, “Traitor.”

MJ simply shrugged with a smile, seemingly enjoying your current suffering being cornered by two nerd-loving-space-politics.

“And you watched all of them!” Peter chimed in, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “and it’s almost the same concept!”

“Don’t compare my in-denial-trauma-main-character with your in-denial-trauma-main-character!” you brought up your own accusatory pointer finger towards Peter, “my boy saves multiple planets and universe with a screwdriver and succeeded in 2-3 episodes. We are not the same.”

“Oh! Oh, okay! So, when–” Peter tried to stand his ground when a sudden familiar beeping noise emerged from your watch on the table.

“Ah, shit,” you immediately went over to it, picking it up gingerly as you read a new message sent over by Hobbie, the non animated one; crazy meetup.

‘Yo wya Gwen’s going to beat your ass for being late’

“Huh? –Oh!” You reacted accordingly to the message. You were late to a function and Gwen would send you to a kid’s birthday party as their entertainment if possible.

You sighed before looking back at the three teenagers who were looking at you in anticipation. “Duty calls.”

Peter and Ned seemed crestfallen about the news whilst MJ nodded with her lips pursed.

You placed the watch where it belonged and grabbed your discarded mask before putting it on again, you smirked behind it. Pressing certain buttons, a portal opened up behind her. A body sized portal appeared in thin air, the rings of the portal sported gradations of color, cutting through reality. You relished at the reaction pulled from the three, identical expressions.

Your name was called out from the other side making you look back. And there was Hobie standing in his spider suit, tilting his head at the sight before him.

“Befriending other Spider-Men now?” Hobie lightheartedly accused, “I’m heart broken here.” His teasing tone shone through his words.

The rest of the three bewilderedly looked at the other Spider-Man, the more decorated suit; the spikes, the vest filled with pins, the electric guitar?!

“Are you.. me?” Peter asked faintly, still somewhat starstruck meeting a different Spider-Man.

“Spider-Man? Yeah. But you..” Hobie glanced at you, silently asking for confirmation.

“Peter Parker.”

“Nah, I ain’t you,” he glanced back at the boy. He tilted his head, giving Peter a grin, “Name’s Hobie. Hobie Brown. Maybe I will see you around.”

“Maybe I’ll put in a word to Miguel,” you shrugged looking at Hobie while he subtly cringed. “Or not– We’ll see.”

Hobie shook his head and chuckled, “Alright, wrap this up. The others are in the next room.” He bid the three goodbye with a nod and a lazy wave as he walked away, out of sight.

“Real nice meeting all of you,” you spoke again, meeting their faces once more, “keep up the good work all of you, whether it’s spidey work or school– real life is just as important, guys!”

You finally turned away to step into the portal. Now fully on the other side, you simply glanced back. “But who knows Peter. Maybe you’d join the Spider-Society with us. See ya!” The portal closed just as quickly, leaving the three teenagers dumbfounded at your last words.

“Spider-Society?!”

–

“I will be beating your ass for what happened.”

“And what did I do now.”

“You stole parts of my shit,” you pointed towards your watch, “which was why I was stuck in that universe for some time. Fucker.”

“Well, you’re here now. Half an hour late but it’s better than nothing.”

“Still fucked,” you braced yourself for some yelling from Gwen as you entered the room with Hobie.

–

Bonus:

“Wait, so, you’ve met other Spider-Men?” Peter 3 interjected, his interest piqued at the topic at hand.

Peter 1 shrugged awkwardly, not fully expecting all the attention, “Yeah? Well, Spider-People. It was really random too. The first one we met was stuck here because their dimension travel watch was broken, so we had to fix that. Then the other one was actually on the other side of the portal after we got the watch fixed!”

“And they were so cool, both of them!” Ned chimed in this time, “their spider suits were so so cool! Especially the punk one– no offense to Arachnid but his suit was so expressive!”

“Aw, that’s sweet, no offense taken, I fuck with Hobie’s suit too,” a familiar voice interrupted their conversation. “Sorry to drop in like this. I’m a bit on the run from Miguel, lol.”

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Here's just a little one-shot for my werewolf Peter au, with Aro and Peter still in Vegas, cause at some point they'll be heading to Italy.

Summary: Aro is snooping about Peter's collection, and has opinions. Peter does not want those opinions.

Warning: Aro being his usual asshole self

On with the fic!

--

"You do know that these are not real, yes?" Aro commented, staring into a glass case.

Peter glared deeply from where he was leaning, knowing exactly what Aro was looking at. "I know that, but it's still a collector's item anyway."

"It is..." Aro chuckled, clearly finding this whole thing humorous, as he had been through much of his browsing of Peter's home museum. "But it's so silly what you humans, well, former in your case,"

"Oi!"

"thought would be perfect for killing vampires. Granted, yes, some items can do damage and even kill, but not everything here could work on all species."

"True, but a stake through the heart is still a stake through the heart."

Aro gave him a toothy smile, smug bastard. He didn't have to say anything, Peter was very aware that he was of that weird, bizarre kind that had stone-like bodies. Peter considered ordering a hammer and chisel, that might do the job.

"Yeah, yeah," Peter rolled his eyes, "the vampire huntin' kits were a gimmick to make money off of people during the satanic panic shit. It's still fuckin' cool to have on display."

"Is this also why you have a silver gun with silver bullets on display as well?"

Peter looked at the case, bristling on instinct. That stupid, wolfy part of him hated knowing it was here, but it was still something he kept around, some vampires were harmed by silver. So was Peter, but that's what gloves were for when he handled it! If he ever needed to handle it again, that is.

"Shut up." Peter replied and moved among the cases. "Are you going to critic everythin' I have in my collection?"

"No, some of it is impressive, I will admit." Aro spoke as he moved about as well, before coming across a bookshelf. "You read?"

"Course I do!"

"I just figured you were... above such things, what with your face always looking at your phone. Or a mirror."

"Har har." Peter sneered, watching as Aro looked at the collection. It was one of several bookshelves in the penthouse, this one was centered on vampires, figured it would be good to have those books near the tools and weapons.

Aro dragged a finger over the spines, muttering to himself as he read over the titles on display. He paused on one, and slipped it out. Peter recognized the cover and winced, glancing away.

The vampire stared at the book in silence, then flipped through it. "Is this... research material?"

"Look, dude, it's about vampires, and there are other vampire novels on the shelf. You can clearly see my several editions of Dracula there. The first edition is a case over there." Peter rambled, but Aro seemed to be ignoring him.

"This is a romance novel."

The werewolf groaned and bonked his head on a glass case. "Don't say that..."

"But it is. The human boy in this clearly seems interested in the vampire girl, who seems to be a stalker. Even going so far as to oil the windows so as to not wake this Beau human." Aro frowned and closed the book shut with a loud thump. "This is terrible."

"People love it." Peter grunted. "The vampires remind me of your species. How well known are your kind?"

"A little too well known if some woman with questionable tastes thinks it's appropriate to put them in there." Aro said with a growl in his voice. Peter ignored how it made something flare in his stomach, best to not look into that for now.

He just shrugged. "Maybe she did some research. I dunno. I mean, her research skills are... not great, considerin' what she did with the wolf characters, pretty terrible shit she did with the real tribe in it."

Aro's frown deepened, and he muttered something to himself, Peter only just catching something about Washington, huh? "Do romance novels help you with research at all, or are they just trash you read to justify some monster-related kink that you have? Because some of the other books you have here are pulp fiction romances."

He snatched another book off the shelf and Peter snarled, trying to snatch it away. "Shut up! It's research material!"

Aro smiled as he looked at the cover, easily dodging Peter. "Oh, is this a vampire and werewolf story? How curious! I wonder what thoughts it provokes in you!"

"Oh my fuckin'- give me that shit!" Peter shouted, trying to get it back, but Aro was suddenly across the room, looking at the contents.

He had the damn nerve to giggle as he read something. "Ah, the receipt in this that you are using as a bookmark is from last week! You must be doing some very serious research right now!"

Peter whined and considered if he should break one of the cases to grab for a dagger or something, anything to get that stupid fang face to stop talking- oh god, is he reading some of it aloud now!?

--

That shitty genderbent version of Twilight exists in this universe, even though Edward and Bella are real people. Aro is curious how this writer around about them, he might have to make some calls...

Also, Peter has a collection of werewolf books too, but most of those are not really research materials. A lot of them are pulpy. :)

[bonefall]

I translated some of my Warrior OCs a bit ago! Four of them are part of one family, and the other is my tabaxi ranger with a warrior's name! I don't know if they're correct, but I wanted to give it a shot!

Clovershine - Glemshem (Her name ended up super cute to say! She's the Mi of Cricket and Fawn!)

Alderpelt - Reykossaborrl (There wasn't a word specifically for Alder, so I combined red and tree! This guy is Clover's mate and the very involved Ba of Cricket and Fawn!)

Fawnfrost - Myaachiki (Myaa sounded cuter than Mween, so I used that instead! Fawny is my main girl I rped and invested a lot of trauma in! :D)

Cricketcall - ???ayeo (Sadly no word for cricket, and I couldn't find words to combine for it. Maybe bell and bug? Idk, I just think this guy is neat! He and his dad and Fawn's mentor all die in a terrible sickness, hence her trauma! :DD)

Emberstrike - Kipkubo (A bit of a stim of a name, tbh. She's the ranger, I love her so much and I wish her campaign didn't fall through...)

CRICKET TIME.

So the first thing to know here is that the Clan cat idea of crickets may be somewhat different to your own.

If you're American, you may have a distinction in your mind that a cricket is usually a singing, hopping bug with a more rounded head, where grasshoppers are longer and more locust-shaped. That isn't the case in this part of Britan/Albion. In fact, grasshoppers are the ones better known for their singing abilities.

See this?

This is a house cricket. They're very rare in this region, and mostly live in human houses, as the name implies. Clan cats do not have a word for these.

THIS is what they're imagining when they hear the word cricket;

This green, stout, long-legged insect is called a Speckled Bush-Cricket. They have three species of bush-cricket and five species of hopper.

Generic terms;

Bush-cricket (generic) = Pwoi Named for the sound they make while jumping, as opposed to how hoppers are named for the song. Sometimes gets applied to other rounded, hopping insects, like fleas.

Hopper (generic) = Chrriga Long, powerful insects with loud chirping wails that they make by rubbing their legs against themselves. Found on the ground and in grass, unlike bush-crickets which are usually arboreal.

Popper (a hopping insect suitable for eating) = Arroi Subjective, WindClan tends to use this as a generic for both hoppers and bush-crickets, ShadowClan applies it to all big ones, RiverClan and ThunderClan don't use it at all (except Sorreltail who uses it for any hoppers she's caught and plans to eat).

Hopper Poppers = Pwoi k'sirArroi A WindClan dish. Mashed, breaded-and-egged, deep fried cricket balls. Related to grubcakes, but these INCLUDE breadcrumbs for a crunch. Kind of unhealthy, but a good source of fat which is otherwise lacking in the WindClan diet.

Specific species;

For funsies I'm going to give them a culinary rating, maximum of four stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐. I'm being possessed by the spirit of BB!Sorreltail lmao.

Roesel's bush-cricket (Roeseliana roeselii) = I'ri'r THE undeniable sound of summer, buzzing long and loud when it gets hot. This animal is the most uncanny mix between a hopper and a bushcricket and has a distinctive sound, so it's rarely referred to with a generic title. ⭐⭐⭐ It is also large and meaty. Best of both worlds, right here. Most palatable bush-cricket.

Speckled bush-cricket (Leptophyes punctatissima) = Rr'ik Though its cry is delicate and high-pitched like a bat, it's noteworthy for being the only one in this family that sings mutually. Female crickets return a song to a male they like. ⭐⭐ They're small, but gooey. WindClan sometimes skips mashing them because they're SO leggy, they prefer to just pull the bits off and eat the body. Like a gusher. But that's so much effort, you know?

Drumming Katydid (Meconema thalassinum) = Kugr Has a low, almost threatening grinding noise, which is fitting because it is an active predator. The only one in this list. It kills and eats caterpillars and other invertebrates, but that's not all. It's also a host for a horrible parasite that forces it to run towards water at the end of its life, drowning the animal before bursting out of its body. ⭐ Tastes awful. Possessed by worms. All legs and no meat. Only ShadowClan would eat something like this.

Common Field Grasshopper (Chorthippus brunneus) = Gyig WindClan's bread-and-butter, one of the most common insects they need to eat to keep their coats healthy. Has a chirping song instead of a drawn-out one. HATES wetness and is best found where the gorse is dead and dry. ⭐⭐⭐⭐ A favorite for a reason. It's abundant, it's meaty, it's large. It can even be purple.

Green Grasshopper (Omocestus viridulus) = F'fir Green with thick black bars on its abdomen, with a harsh, fluttering song. Tends to find a high pedestal before playing its song, as if it's trying to get in front of an audience. ⭐⭐⭐ Has more crunch than meat, with big wings that can get in the way, but still a hopper which is pretty delicious.

Slender grouse locust (Tetrix subulata) = Sswoi Dull brown thing that doesn't even sing. Has a dumb little wiggle-dance instead. Loves streams and lidos and is the hopper that RiverClan cats see most often. ⭐ No wonder RiverClan doesn't eat bugs.

Meadow Grasshopper (Pseudochorthippus parallelus) = Shriga Some of them can look deceptively like a f'fir with the green bodies and barring, but listen. Listen. Its song is TOTALLY different, more of a shakey-shake kind of rattle. ⭐⭐⭐⭐ And Sorreltail will GO TO BAT for how delicious they are. Don't be fooled. This is grasshopper ambrosia. Tiny wings, lots of crunch, a nice flavor. ABSOLUTE delicacy.

Groundhopper (Tetrix undulata) = Wariga A plump, brown grasshopper that eats moss and algae, preferring wet environments with drier areas to retreat to. ⭐⭐⭐??? Data needed. ShadowClan cats kept SWEARING to Sorreltail that these are actually the best, most delicious poppers out there. But she's never had one so she can't attest to it... yet. It's hard to imagine anything can taste better than a honey-roasted shriga. She doubts it tbh.

[mycarhasasecret]

Like usual, at some point, the bots meet the human reader, and end up befriending them. And everything was going fine for a while, the bots never suspected that something was up. However, at some point, it’s finally revealed that they (the reader) isn’t really a human—not anymore at least, now, they’re a ghost, and they’ve been like that since they first met the Cybertronians.

Headcanons for how MTMTE Spinister, Rescue Bot’s Blurr, Beeverse Optimus, MTMTE Drift, and TFA Grimlock would react/feel about this?

Sure. Question, are we still counting Beeverse and Bayverse separately, even though they're the same?

MTMTE

Spinister

-Spinister's processor is unable to come to terms with this new information, and he just kind of stares at you for a while. Give him a minute...he's connecting the dots...one...by...one...

-Eventually, his processor digests the information...improperly. In his mind, his human friend was not a ghost. So, obviously, this figure in front of him, who is a ghost, is not his human friend. Needless to say, he shoots at you.

-It passes right through you. No harm, no foul. Misfire to the rescue. He manages to stop anymore shots being fired, and explains it to Spinister again, very slowly. You're not sure he really gets the idea, but at least he's not shooting at you anymore. He moves on from the incident fairly quickly.

Drift

-This is...certainly a strange turn of events, isn't it? Honestly, since joining the Lost Light crew, he's dealt with far weirder. He's curious more than anything. He already knows you, so why be afraid?

-His main concern is why you kept this from everyone, including him. You may have even lied to his face to keep this under wraps. Did he not seem trustworthy? Were you afraid of judgment or fear?

-He has questions, but avoids asking them in too zealous of a manner. He doesn't want to come off as too eager. Actually, he'd like for his friendship with you to remain the way it was before, if at all possible. A friend is a friend, no matter the species. And what's a ghost but Human Lite?

Rescue Bots

Blurr

-He screams. And then denies that he screamed. Everyone makes fun of him for *months* afterword. He gets all huffy about it.

-He kind of cares, but also kind of doesn't. It won't really affect your relationship with him in the long run, but it's still weird to think about. Straight up gives him the heebie jeebies.

-His real concern, the one that eats him up at night, is are ghosts faster than him? Can you teleport to the finish line? Are you going to smoke him in every race from now on? He's extremely concerned about this..

Beeverse

Optimus Prime

-He is surprised to say the least. There are many ancient figures and artifacts throughout the universe. Most of which he has seen, but still many which he has not. Ghosts are...definitely a new one.

-He demands to know why you've been keeping this from them. He's a little upset, but who can blame him? he has the weight of the universe on his shoulders, and now there are ghosts involved.

-Ultimately, he rolls with it. The fact that you are already dead is, honestly, kind of a stress reliever. He doesn't have to worry about you dying because of a mistake he made. Or at all, really. He's upset that you kept it hidden, but in the end it's one less thing on his plate.

TFA

Grimlock

-It takes a minute for him to get it. At first he thinks you turned into a ghost (another transformer! it's okay, he didn't know he was a transformer at first, either), then he kind of understands that you're dead.

-You were always dead? No, wrong. Grimlock knows you were alive. He thinks you're trying to pull a fast one on him. You...kind of just have accept the lack of logic for now...

-Over time, he starts to connect bits and pieces from memories with you. It kind of causes a weird cognitive dissonance. He just tries not to think about it too hard. Which is pretty easy for him. And probably for the best.

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

I decided to ask around on all the fish/ocean blogs I follow: how do you learn more about the ocean?? I love the ocean and I really wanna learn more about my favorite sea creatures and beyond but I have no idea how to get started. Are there documentaries or shows your recommend? How do you go about doing research for fun (the American school system has failed me, go figure)? How do you even remember it all? I crave to learn but where I could possibly start is as vast as the ocean itself.

What a fun question! It is admittedly a bit difficult to go back to the beginning of my ocean-learning days, since I can't remember a time when I wasn't super into water and aquatic things, but I'll try! I think I started learning about oceans through books, I'd read and borrow a lot of fish and marine biology books at the library. I think they're the very best place to look to at first if you struggle with the paralysis of having too many things to do or too many places to look from! Libraries are really good sources of information, but unlike the internet, the resources are finite in some way, they're on physical paper, and tied to the place itself (until you take them home of course!), which at least to me makes it easier to start looking for what I want to know more about. Libraries make it easier for me to read things too, I get very distracted at home. Only when I am in the peace and quiet in between the bookshelves can I focus!

Another place that was no doubt a source of learning for me was natural history museums and aquariums. I was (..am) obsessed with the Finnish Museum of Natural History specifically, it was a must-visit every time we went to the capital city area up until the pandemic. Aquariums we went to less so, but the education they provide there is a gem! Sometimes you can even talk to an employee if you're lucky enough and learn extra bits of information about things. Not always free like libraries, but worth a shot if you get the opportunities to visit.

I've also watched and still watch marine/freshwater life documentaries and other educational shows! Usually I'd opportunistically go and watch them whenever one popped up on the TV, instead of going out to find them myself. This, and the fact that it's been many years since I saw some, I can't recall many of the names of the documentaries I've seen! There were some about dolphins and their fascinating behaviour and hunting habits, and this cool documentary series that divided its episodes into two parts with pure opposite climates and cultures with opposite lifestyles, but I can't seem to find the ones I'm thinking of!!! ...Ah, well. I can recommend you Planet Earth (2006), The Blue Planet (2001) and Blue Planet II (2017) from BBC, and Life on Our Planet (2023) which I'm currently watching on Netflix! Secrets of the Whales (2021) from National Geographic I didn't quite finish but it was still quite interesting, focuses on four species of whales.

As for doing my research... well, once I was old enough to get on the internet and I was super duper fixated on a specific species of animal or a group of animals, I'd do this thing where I look up the animal's name and slowly start going through every website that popped up, in order, bookmarking the websites with the most or most interesting information. I still do it. I don't know if it's the "correct" way, could there even be a correct way..? I doubt it, and it does give you many sources to reference with each other! I also like to look through videos of these animals, but, that's probably a given. If you're looking for fish info specifically, I like to fall back on FishBase, SeriouslyFish and A-Z Animals when I'm unsure about something (besides checking multiple sources), as far as I know they're trustworthy.

When it comes to remembering, I unfortunately cannot offer you any tips! I am fortunate in that I have naturally good memory and absorb information with relative ease, so I don't really have any tips for remembering things... though I do like to sort large batches of information into charts, like how I did when I was learning to take care of my shrimp! I looked through several websites and collected the suggested parameters from each, and compared them with each other. I did the same thing when I was making my informational comic about bigfin squids, I collected the depths and places in which squids were spotted in into charts. Perhaps that is helpful in some way!

So! TL;DR, libraries, documentaries, museums, aquariums, just plain old internet research. I hope this helps you in some way!!! <33 Well wishes from the fishes!

[zeemczed]

Silly Game Time: Who are some of your favorite fighter characters? And what do you like about them?

They can weild any weapon (swords, spears, axes, clubs, knives, bare hands, etc.); they can be of any class or variety of combatant (ones who rely on strength like brawlers or berserkers, ones who use finesse like martial artists or technique masters, ones who balance defensive and offensive equipment like knghts or samurai, etc.); they can be of any race or species (from fantasy or sci-fi); they can even have access to special powers to improve their combat skills (magical, psychic, technological, superpowers, etc.).

What matters is that one of their primary skills, roles in the story, and traits as a character is physical fighting.

So, there are a LOT, and I mean a LOT of possible entries here. Flying Punching Juan, my OC superpowered greaser? Chaz Ashley, from Phantasy Star IV? Cranston Snord, from Battletech?

I think I'm going to pick three.

First off, my manga/anime pick, Vegeta from Dragon Ball Z. Yeah, the grumpy-ass one. Why? Because A) he's the only one smart enough to realize when he's been placed up against a gag manga character, B) he and Bulma are weirdly adorable together, and C) oh my god he has SO MUCH FANFIC POTENTIAL. SO MUCH. With DBZ the fic is better than the core material often, and Vegeta-centered fics are often some of my faves.

Second, from a Pathfinder/D&D campaign, Jenkins. Now, Jenkins wasn't a PC, he was a hireling, a follower from the Leadership feat. His leader/PC was a gunslinger, so he was a long-gun specialist. Quiet. Professional. Basically a more British version of the Sniper from TF2, always ready with a high-caliber shot from a great distance when needed. His master was the swashbuckling badass, Jenkins was the bulwark of stoic coolness that didn't NEED to swashbuckle. Over the course of the campaign the PCs got involved in a plot to overthrow Demogorgon as lord of hell. Long story there, but they succeeded (Jenkins personally landing a finishing blow on no less than three other major targets, including DAGON), and then everyone lunged for the crown at once. Including their allies, the other lords of hell.

Jenkins was in the right place at the right time. He nabbed it. Put it on. Cowed all of hell... and then muttered "well, that's a helluva thing for the CV." And then he tossed the crown on the party witch's head... and walked out of hell.

Jenkins STILL exists in my campaigns, operating at an epic level, usually only heard of in myth.

Lastly, my pro wrestler pick. ORANGE CASSIDY. The king of Sloth Style. The laziest pro wrestler of all time. And arguably one of the best. Orange can actually GO when he's pushed, and he's the master of the Orange Punch. He USED to be a heel, known for spraying OJ in his opponents' eyes. Evidently that was too much effort.

[byanyan]

It was too bad there weren't more books on humans in Sigma Rhada.

That was to expect from a species that wasn't native to Eros, but even so, the lack of information frustrated him. Ardaka knew he could ask the human he had in his life any question that came to mind… But the answer he would receive was always going to be limited. Very limited. Byan's recent antics had told the kariian there was some sort of significant human-related event happening, but he also didn't want to just ask them about it. Not only did it ruin any surprise, Byan was… Avoidant at the best of times. Sometimes a liar at his expense. They would deny it, but they were often flustered, too. He knew the sort of thing they'd find difficult to answer. Something sentimental, heartfelt — he knew Byan struggled with that, and for good reason. He'd indulge himself with a question later on, but for now…

The recent gift was something of a statement. Something had prompted it. While he wasn't sure of what it was, it didn't take Ardaka long to decide to begin putting together a gift for his human companion. It seemed like humans had too many holidays for him to truly keep track of anyway, but he understood the sentiment. Kariians did have similar gift-exchanging holidays, sparse as they were. Something related to things that were dear to you in your life. For the little human to express that sentiment to him meant something. It warranted a reciprocation, and gladly.

In fact, sometimes it seemed like he was running out of excuses to give Byan things, flighty and perpetually-unsettled as they often were. There always needed to be a reason for it. Even if Ardaka didn't exactly have the context, this was still a good one.

The gift Byan had made was now a month ago. Maybe two. Aside from framing the portrait, Ardaka hadn't mentioned it. He, too, had taken time to compose what he'd wanted to give them now. The Hunter had needed time to think… But he also needed time to perfect it. Even with his cybernetic eyes having the ability to gauge exact distance, Ardaka had went through the effort of being exact. He didn't want to say 'Hey, stand still while I measure the radius of your skull,' so he opted to wait for Byan to be asleep to do it without the potential hassle of spoiling his intentions. Ardaka was neurotic and anxious to those who knew him well, but when he intended to hide something, there were few more adept than he was. Byan might've assumed the kariian had no plan at all before they came across their gift.

How did they find it? First one of their knives had gone missing. In its usual place, a note to lure Byan elsewhere in the base, titled Humor Me.

From their backpack pocket to one room then another. Notes and riddles but nothing concrete until they come to the main room. There upon the table, not the knife but instead a sleek pair of gloves. They held the visual of being fingerless on first glance, but there was thin and resilient wiring that extended down to the fingers, meant to wind around them like rings. The note here read simply, Byan, then You'll figure them out. Then, Turn this over after.

Each knuckle held a divot like something was meant to come out, and the technical nature and feel of them left an implication that there was more to be garnered here. When Byan would put them on, including the wiring as intended, there was a subtle but painless undercurrent of electricity within. Only when they snapped their fingers did the note's promise come to fruition. Thumb to little finger, the power in the gloves hummed stronger. The nearest metal — a conveniently placed piece of cutlery — magnetized quickly to their palm. Snapping the combination again made them disappear, or even combo with another of the glove's features. Thumb to ring finger, a quarter of hard-light blades shot out from the divots atop the knuckles, similar in visuals to Ardaka's pink hard-light prosthetic. Warm like a sun-heated window-pane and as sharp as any knife. Thumb to middle finger, the hard-light took on an appearance more like plasma, and spread over like liquid across Byan's hands, moulding over them and effectively cutting off any sensation of outside temperature; they could have soaked their hands in acid then and remained perfectly safe. Thumb to index finger, the hard-light blades of the ring-finger snap extended and whirled into a circular shape, creating a small — but effective — shield.

When the note was turned over, there was another single sentence. Now where would I put a sword?

The room next to the training gym, naturally. Where he kept every blade, practically all of them too heavy for Byan to ever be interested in borrowing. Byan finds their knife here — among other things. The dagger is embedded through the next note, and into the neck of the training dummy. In the chest of the dummy is another blade — much longer than a dagger… And atop its makeshift head is a helmet, much smaller than those the Hunter donned.

The note didn't start with Byan's name exactly.

The gloves, the helmet, and the sword is for you. I admit, this might just be a convoluted scheme to get you to wear a helmet or a mask… But I know you'll find use in the gloves and the sword. Destructive use, I'm sure, but use nonetheless. I trust you'll do more damage with these than you will with a switchblade. Try not to get carried away when you're in here with any property damage, though..

It was a proper sword under that note, its hilt made of dense metal, the heaviest piece of the weapon. Consequently, had Byan discovered each trick to the new pair of gloves, the magnetized pull of it was powerful enough to draw it right into their palm, where it fit easily, hilt-first. The weight was far easier to manage than the swords the kariian used despite its weight, its edge so light it almost seemed it was only fit to cut, to slash but not to cleave.

That was, until another of the glove's abilities was active. The harmless plasma-y liquid that coated over Byan's hand would extend up the sword, where it seemed to ignite like a lit match to a wick. It turned the edge of the blade white-hot with the barest hint of the same pink that shared the energy of these new tools. Hot and deadly enough to slice through metal like butter. It also brought attention to a script carved into the surface of that blade, that glowed a vibrant hue instead of white.

The helmet, on the other hand, was a sort of two-piece helmet. A front-facing protective mask that could seal to an additional attachment, making it take on a look more similar to that of Talon's motorcycle helmets. If it wasn't obvious that it was intended for Byan — the armor was, of course, pink. Bright, bright pink.

An additional two notes were attached. One another letter, and another attached with more care, on a material more resembling cardboard than paper in its thickness. It was a sketch of Byan. There was no color like the picture the teen had made the kariian, but each line was obviously etched by a claw dipped in ink, loose and minimalistic in comparison. While there seemed as few lines as needed to make the portrait, the human's dark eyes conveyed an intense, mischievous emotion.

Thank you for your gift to me. Accept mine to you as well. They may be a little over the top, but I think you deserve something worthy of being called a real set of gear. Not just a toothpick, but something even I would use.

The words on the sword say 'vaxa osti a todivarr mûrû'. It's a saying in my language that would translate roughly into 'the edge to depend upon'. This blade doesn't have a name, but all great ones do. I hope one day I'll learn what it is.

Sukehiir vur ruure a ohhta. Koz khukh kharvas xot zar mrrar sukeh zqrry.

re: byan inexplicably leaving ardaka a christmas gift with no context.

ㅤwaking up to a treasure hunt for their own knife was not how byan expected their day to start. and yet, here they were, barely awake and stumbling from room to room still clad in their pyjamas and intense bedhead, squinting at each note and trying to solve the clues without an ounce of caffeine in their system as of yet. part of them was tempted to step away for a moment to make some coffee before continuing to pursue the odd little search, but their curiosity to where this was going had them telling themself 'i'll do it after i find the next part' with each note they picked up, all the way to the base's main room.

stuffing the now-solved note into their pocket, byan approached the table with interest further piqued by the sight of more than just another note this time. it wasn't the knife that they were trying to track down, but they were some pretty cool looking gloves. a bit simple for their taste at first glance but, sliding the note closer and reading it over, there was an implication that they were more than they appeared. undeniably intrigued, the teen snatched one of the gloves off the table and lifted it toward their face, turning it over as they surveyed it more closely. there was something more here, upon closer inspection, even beyond the odd wiring which ran along the fingers, though they couldn't quite figure out what. knowing the sort of tech ardaka had and worked with, however, there was an excitement buzzing in the back of their head at the possibilities.

after a few further moments of study only to come up empty-handed, the only conclusive next step to figuring them out, as the note clearly intended for them to do before proceeding with the hunt, was to put them on. slipping their hands inside each of the gloves, impressed with how perfectly they fit, byan wasn't sure of what to expect, but the sudden sensation of an electrical undercurrent, painless as it was, earned a faint start regardless. ...okay, so there was definitely something more here.

it took a bit of playing around to figure things out. from simply touching the table and the note to closing their hands into fists and slipping them into their pockets to even just clapping their hands together, nothing seemed to cause anything interesting to happen. ...until they snapped their fingers absentmindedly while trying to think up some other way to get the things to activate, that was. the hard-light blades popped out first, earning yet another startled jump and a wide-eyed stare that melted into a thrilled excitement in a matter of seconds. oh, that was so much fucking cooler than they were prepared for. turning their hands to admire the warm pink blades, a wild grin took over byan's features as countless fun and kickass uses for such a thing began to flood their mind. experimentally, they snapped their fingers again, and the weapons disappeared just as suddenly as they'd appeared. god, it was so goddamn cool.

fully forgetting about the entire idea of making coffee, far more awake now than they had been in trying to follow all the previous notes, byan snapped their fingers a third time, this time catching their ring finger and their middle finger without really thinking about it. to their continued surprise, a second feature revealed itself, their hands now coated and seemingly protected by the same hard-light as before. while less exciting than the weapon function, there was no doubt that this would prove useful as well. more than that, though... there was no way these gloves had a different feature activated by each finger... right? obviously, it had to be tested, so they snapped their index finger next, revealing the gloves' shield capability — also not as cool as hard-light knuckle knives, but unquestionably handy considering how much more often they found themself being shot at these days. then, finally, they snapped their pinkie finger last and watched in utter bewilderment as a piece of cutlery they'd barely made note of across the table was sucked straight into the palm of their hand. —okay, so that was pretty neat. they definitely found the coolest part of the gloves first, but they couldn't say that had complaints about any of the features. all of them would absolutely be getting use in the future.

although tempted to keep playing with the gloves and all their capabilities, a glance at the note still laying on the table reminded them that they weren't done yet — their knife was still missing, after all. deactivating the gloves' functions with another snap of their fingers, byan dropped the fork back to the table, trading it for the note which they finally turned over. 'where would i put a sword,' huh? now that was an easy one.

ㅤshoving their way through the door to the room which sat next to the gym — the room they liked to think of as the 'sword shed' for all the weapons it housed — the teen flicked the light on and found they didn't have to search very far for their knife. they were, however, drawn to a pause by the sight: the knife pinning the next note to a training dummy's neck, a (very pink) helmet atop its head, and another weapon, one they hadn't seen before, embedded in its chest. this was... a lot more than just the gloves. overwhelming, in a way, as they started to get a better idea of what the point of luring them all the way here was. still, byan padded quietly through the room on socked feet, approaching the dummy and reaching for their small blade. a quick yank was enough to pull it free and, folding it closed, they pocketed it while their eyes slowly scanned over what appeared to be the final note.

despite themself, they couldn't help but smile a little as they read. as they suspected, the items were all intended for them — a convoluted scheme to get them to wear a helmet and mask, he said, but something told them that the whole thing was just as much to give them a gift without them being able to refuse it. ...something they couldn't deny that he'd done a damn good job of, considering how goddamn awesome the gloves were on their own. they might not have been great at accepting gifts given to them with express intent to make them happy, always struggling when handed proof that someone knew and understood them so well, proof that someone cared enough about them to go out of their way to bring them things they'd like, but even they had a hard time saying no when those gifts were sickass weapons.

breathing a soft snort of a laugh through their nose at the comment about the destructive use they were sure to find in the gloves and sword, byan folded the paper once they finished reading and tucked it into their pocket alongside all the notes which came before it, their eyes drawn to the sword sticking out of the dummy's chest. a hand extended toward it, but froze about a half-second later as a more fun idea came to mind. remembering the gloves' magnetic ability, and having already suspected that it might come in handy if they were ever disarmed in a fight, the teen glanced down at their still covered hands with interest. then, after a moment or two of recalling which finger combination did what, they used their thumb and pinkie and held their hand open, outstretched toward the weapon. almost as if it was the full intention behind the design of both pieces of equipment, the sword tore free of the dummy's torso and snapped directly into the palm of their hand, hilt first. fuck, that was awesome. fingers closing around it, byan tested the blade's weight, turning their hand over this way and that, and then gave it a few experimental swings. it certainly held some decent weight, but it was nothing compared to that of ardaka's weapons, which they were unable to hold for more than a few moments, if at all. this one... it was chosen, if not outright made, with them in mind, and they weren't sure how to feel about it.

deciding it easier to not think too much about it right this moment, to focus instead on how cool the thing was, byan found themself with another question in mind: if their suspicion was right, that the gloves and the weapon were meant to work together... did more than just the magnetic ability affect with the sword? maybe it was a silly thought, some wishful thinking, but they couldn't help but to feel like something was off. something about the blade, how lightweight it was in comparison to the hilt, almost seemed like it was missing something, even if it was clearly functional as is. even if it turned out they were wrong, it couldn't hurt to try, right? no one was here to witness it if they only made a fool of themself.

eyeing the sword and giving it some thought, byan activated the gloves so that the hard-light coated their hands again, just to see. lo and behold, it appeared their guess wasn't so out there after all — blinking, they watched as the strange liquid-like substance ran up along the sword's blade and seemingly heated up, far hotter and much more deadly-looking than the hard-light blades of the gloves themselves.

ㅤㅤ" whoa... "ㅤthe display earned a genuine gasp, their eyes shining as they stared on in awe. alright... everything had been cool so far, but this officially took the cake. a few more experimental swings were given, these even more satisfying than the last with the way the blade glowed and how the heat that emanated off of it, and byan couldn't resist — they had to try something a little more with this one, it was too fucking cool to just turn off without a proper test. thus, turning to one of the other nearby training dummies, they squared up against it, pointing the end of the sword at its chest. practically vibrating with all their excited energy but still trying to look cool, even if they were the only one in the room, the teen readied themself and then let loose a violent swing, cleaving the dummy neatly in two. the torso dropped to the floor with a dull thump, and they couldn't contain the broadest, toothiest grin their face was capable of forming as they looked from one piece to the other. it was only then that, in raising the sword again, they caught a glimpse of what appeared to be an inscription. must've been too distracted by the white hot edge of the blade to notice it before, they figured, pulling the weapon closer to their body to inspect. the script looked like it was probably kariian, which felt like the obvious guess, though they certainly couldn't read it themself, much less translate it. curious as to what it might say, but admittedly somewhat afraid to actually ask when they'd see ardaka later — both because they'd rather not acknowledge the gift if they could help it and also out of an odd sort of fear of all the endless possibilities which could potentially hit too close to home in all sorts of ways — byan again decided to put it out of their mind, deactivating the gloves and setting the sword to the side in order to lay their attention on the final piece of this weird but amazing gift: the helmet.

grasping the armor between their hands, they wrenched the helmet off the dummy's head and drew it in for a closer look. unexpectedly, there seemed to be another note attached, drawing byan to an almost hesitant halt as they pulled the paper and the much thicker, almost cardboard material carefully free. ...that seemed intentional, like they weren't supposed to notice it until they went for the helmet. like they were supposed to find it last, like ardaka knew the helmet would be the least interesting item of the three. and to his credit, he was right — even looking at it now, byan could tell that it wasn't as decked out with cool features as the gloves or the sword, it was literally just a helmet with a protective face covering. ...which, okay, yeah, it was probably about time they had one. at least he got it in pink, that way they might be more inclined to wear it. they'd try it on later, though. maybe when they actually needed it.

setting the headgear to rest alongside the sword, the teen's attention shifted once more to the items which had been attached to it, a slightly wary look etched into their features. ...this felt like it was going to be the really meaningful part of the whole thing. the little treasure hunt and the gadgets had all been fun, set up in a very deliberate way to make sure they were enjoyed to the fullest. it was something they appreciated, though they wouldn't say it, because it made it easier for them to follow along without question, without any overwhelming concern that they were going to get slapped in the face at any point by anything emotional or serious. it was an ideal way to give them a gift, and they had to give ardaka credit for it, even if the realization that he knew them well enough to put together such a scheme in the first place was a bit... frightening, in a way. it was a show of how close they'd allowed themself to get, how much they'd allowed themself to be seen. and this, the final piece in it all, was sure to be the one where ardaka finally allowed himself to express his feelings, as he was so fond of doing. oh, he was good; he knew exactly how to do all of this, didn't he? ...it was stupid how nervous they felt, standing there alone in the weapon room, with nothing but a note in their hand. —well, a note and...

drawing in a steady breath, byan flipped the thicker of the two sheets over first, freezing up at the revealed image. it was... them. even the most cursory glance made that much clear, despite the simplicity of the drawing. —it wasn't even simple, it was merely minimalistic, with great care still clearly taken with each line. did he...? —he did. not only did he draw them, a portrait in return for that which they drew of him, but he did it in his own unique style with his own favoured tools: his claws. these were no lines drawn by pens or painted by brushes, there was something too different about them, the ink had flowed off in such a unique way... it had to be his claws. despite themself, despite the tightness in their chest, despite everything, looking the drawing over forced another smile across their lips against their will. he nailed the expression, okay? that was it. it wasn't like they found it really sweet or meaningful or like they planned to display it in their room like they'd noticed he'd done with theirs, or anything! ...there was a pretty good shelf in their closet that they could set it up on though, so they'd see it at least once a day without it being obvious...

clearing their throat, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness that had extended up into it from their chest, byan turned the final final note over and covered the portrait with it so they could stop thinking about that, too. having braced themself for some really mushy, emotional comments about them, about his decision to set up this whole experience for them, and about the gift they had left him several weeks ago, it came as quite a surprise when reading through it... they didn't find it that bad. there was still some weight to it, of course, but nothing nearly so intense as they were expecting. he even balanced it out with a comment about their knives being toothpicks to (playfully) exasperate them, and left a translation for the inscription on the blade so they wouldn't have to ask him in person — and that, too, was far more tame than they had anticipated. if they were to guess, the part of the note written at the bottom in kariian, the one part they couldn't read, was probably the bit with the most emotion in it, which... again, they had to give him credit. if that guess was right, that meant he effectively left them able to maintain their comfortable ignorance, unprepared to handle words too kind or heartfelt, while also being able to express those things as he preferred to. it was clever, and they would be ignoring it for the time being.

he got them. he fucking got them. he figured out the perfect way to give them a gift perfectly tailored to them without having them turn it down and take off, the perfect way to get them to actually accept and (potentially) wear a helmet and/or a mask, and the perfect way to give them something heartfelt, as well as a (presumably) heartfelt note without freaking them out. he was truly a worthy adversary. ...or rather, a worthy friend. or... something closer to family, maybe.ㅤㅤ—maybe.

smile gentler than they'd ever admit to, than they'd ever allow anyone to see, byan kept the last note neat and flat against the portrait beneath it and proceeded to collect both the helmet and the sword. although they had the full intention of coming back to mess around a little more seriously with the gloves and the blade in a while, they wanted to tuck everything else safely away first. —so that if ardaka came in later, he wouldn't see it all still there and comment on it, obviously! not because they wanted to keep it safe, or anything!! ...but also maybe so they could finally get that cup of coffee and have a few minutes to process the strange and somewhat overwhelming morning they'd had before they started stabbing and cutting more dummies in half.

ㅤwhen they left the room, items bunched together carefully in their arms, it was on light feet, hair bouncing with each step, and a warm, happy smile still firmly intact.

[halfsizehellboy]

Your days used to be full of normal human things. The sun, a family, laughter and friends, a nice meal after a long day of hard work. Every night you’d convince yourself that this is your first lifetime, your only lifetime; and you’d try to remember the Acceptable Human Lifetime length so you can definitely not go nap underground for a few years before resurfacing and moving to a new town to do it all over again.

It gets harder to see your partner, your kids, your nth round of best friends get older and slower until you put them in the ground. You’ve gone to all of your kids’ funerals, and their grandkids’ too. With every group of people you love that gets returned to the Earth, a little more of your control slips away— you stop caring about how often your eyes change, or that you catch people in the supermarket staring when your arm stretches a bit too much to be normal, how your joints move on the wrong side of too much. You only made the mistake of getting hit by a car once, it’s getting more difficult to make your insides match the human outsides for the machines— that is, if they work around you at all.

Sometimes kids run around the woods where you currently live, and to have some fun you let go. You go on walks as a deer that’s a little too big, a little too vibrant, eyes unnatural and horns that arch more like human bones than antlers. You like being snakes, too; either one big one or a bunch of little ones. Always off on the coloring, always with eyes a little unnatural, too close with humans. Some careless seasons you get shot as a deer, and it of course does nothing, leaving another generation of hunters with stories of the big buck that got away.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to be you. Houses get closer and closer every year, phones take pictures when you don’t actively interfere with the cell service quality. One day you’ll be done on Earth, but you like it so you keep the charade up. You haven’t had a partner in a long time. Dogs and cats come and go, never actually a pet but they know you’d always take care of them. There’s a lot of reanimated pets out there because of you, safe returns home leaving only blood on the pavement as you convince flesh to mend and lungs to breathe. Their ghosts follow you when they die of natural causes later on, at least for a little bit. You’re the only one to pet them now.

In all your years on Earth, you’ve never met another you; though you’ve met aliens. Their Human disguises don’t work on your uh, definitely only two eyes. You don’t really show up normally on their scanners and readers, either. The many species of extraterrestrials that come through make for great conversation, and in your time you've made friends with some. Visits are few and far in between, but when they come it's usually for a while. You compare notes and observations, and they tell you about the other planets they've been to, like some sort of insane travel brochure. If you ever had to leave Earth, you'd go to a planet of large forests and ancient trees; not yet inhabited except for enough plants and animals to keep you company for millions of years. You wonder if the ghost pets would follow you there, but you can't remember if the tied-to-your-bones is an actual thing for them.

But for now, you live in the woods. You live in the woods in a cabin you found and fixed, and spend less energy on looking human every day. You hide the cabin farther in the woods, behind impenetrable walls of trees and brambles, and let go.

The ghost pets still hang around after all, which is nice.

You are human, you have always been human, and you will always be a human. As long as you can keep convincing yourself you are. Something that is ģ̸̰̱̎̇̾͘̕͝͝e̶̛̠̪̗̻̜̱̤̲͖̗͔͊ṫ̸̢̛̗̦̲̯̥͍̲͍̈͜ţ̵͚̠̩͈̏̈́̏̍̑ḯ̸̛̬̰̫̮͇̰̥̦̜̠̞̤̫̜̅͑̀̐͒̃̿̾͑͊͗̕ṋ̶̹̞͔̩̥̖̦̙̻̼̠͇̭̈̑g̶̛̪̳͆̋̔́̉̀͠͝ͅͅ ̷͎̄͋͑̇̀̾͊͊̉̕̚͝ḧ̸͖̤͕̩̰̮̞̞͖̺́́͐a̷

[sundownpromises-inactive]

Savior [Abby Anderson x Reader]

Synopsis: You and Abby, best friends, aren't quite sure where you both stand with each other. After you get attacked while out on patrol, you begin to experience feelings of inadequacy; Abby, however, reminds you of just how important you are, and it is during this conversation that both of your true feelings come to the surface.

Tags: minor violence, non-graphic violence, near death experiences, panic attacks, minor injuries, friends to lovers, love confessions, emotional hurt/comfort, nightmares, fluff, a little suggestive toward the end but not explicit

Word Count: 8k+

Author's Note: this is my first time posting a fic of mine to tumblr (also my first time writing for Abby)! I'm nervous and also excited 😭 this has been proofread quite a few times but apologies in advance if any spelling and/or grammarical errors slipped by me, mistakes are all mine! I almost cried writing this bc my god do I want an Abby of my own. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is always welcome. This was cross posted on AO3 as well.

For the first time since joining the Washington Liberation Front, you finally felt like you were doing some real work. Fear and inexperience prevented you from going out on patrols, and for several months you stuck with doing laundry and food preparation. But many grueling and difficult weeks of weapon training and learning about basic self defense left you feeling confident – a feeling that, up until now, was wholly unfamiliar to you.

You were currently sitting patiently in your room, bag packed with all of the essentials and necessities for your first patrol trip. You were just waiting for your roommate and patrol partner, Whitney, to knock on the door and announce when it’s time to go. 

You could tell from the way your stomach felt like it was upside down that you were feeling a little nervous. Just months ago, doing anything that meant leaving the stadium absolutely terrified you; it was a safe haven and leaving it meant you were no longer protected from the unforgiving nature of a post-apocalyptic city. You weren’t afraid of the infected – you had encountered plenty of them prior to being recruited, and you couldn’t even begin to count how many you had taken down during your years as a lone survivor. 

No, you were far more scared of your own species . Within the once densely populated city of Seattle, you were completely by yourself with no sense of stability as you packed your stuff and relocated once every few days, paranoia never allowing you to stay in one place for any longer. Of course, there was also the looming threat of being captured by the Seraphites or brutally killed by other survivors. You were a true pacifist, having mastered the art of being light on your feet and narrowly avoiding getting into physical altercations with other people. Trees, tall grass, and anything else nature provided you with helped you in silently escaping without leaving a single trace. You had your fair share of close calls, like anyone would, but what you lacked in weapon knowledge and fighting skills you made up for in quick thinking.

One day, though, your luck had finally decided to run out. 

Your recollection of that day was hazy, but you could vividly remember sleeping on a raggedy couch within an abandoned house, before raiders had forcefully entered your home. You don’t really remember who started shooting first. There was so much screaming, and your ears were ringing from the piercing and relentless sound of gunfire. There had to have been three guys. Maybe four, you weren’t exactly sure. They were clumsy and missed a lot of their shots. Until they didn’t, and suddenly there was a hole in your leg. Although they couldn’t aim well, you weren’t any better. Your shots usually ended up in a wall or going through a window. But you did manage to take them all out. Almost all of them, because one guy had taken you completely by surprise, pinning you against a wall and attempting to inflict a stab wound.

But that was when a mysterious woman with a braid showed up.

There were other people with her but you could only remember seeing her. She took out the guy attacking you swiftly, her aim incredibly precise, the bullet going straight through his head. She aimed it at you, and immediately your arms went up – that was when you locked eyes with her, her gaze sharp and unwavering. Your eyes were blown wide, your heart rate never slowing down and adrenaline still pumping through you. You were pleading to her silently.

You knew you had managed to sway her when she had slowly lowered her pistol. She gazed down at your leg, and you’ll never forget the unexpected softness in her voice when she told you:

“I got you.”

Then, she let you wrap your arm around her shoulders, and she helped you exit the bullet-ridden house. She took you in and taught you how to shoot better; but you refused to help out with patrols, and that was when your fear of leaving the stadium had begun to blossom. You felt powerless in that moment back in the abandoned house. You almost died because of your cluelessness, and your inability to kill, let alone even hurt another human.

After having been rescued, your time spent doing busy work at the stadium is when you found yourself growing closer to the woman, who you had soon found out was named Abby. Despite Whitney being your roommate, she barely ever saw you – you were always spending time with Abby, whether it be eating together in the cafeteria, having in-depth conversations about random books that Abby may have found while on patrol (because that was one major thing the both of you had in common, surprisingly), or just enjoying each other's company and not exchanging any words at all, comforted by the mere feeling of the other person being in the same room. 

You soon realized, though, that you weren’t supposed to be experiencing a spike in heart rate after your hand accidentally brushed hers. You weren’t supposed to feel that stupid fluttery feeling your stomach whenever she laughed at something you said or smiled at you. You weren’t supposed to feel warmth spread throughout your cheeks at the sight of her sweaty and breathing heavily from exertion after working out. You told all of this to Whitney, and she only laughed at your suffering, telling you to your face that you had a crush on your best friend.

But it didn’t feel like a crush. Crushes were fleeting. You wanted Abby. You yearned for her closeness and thought about sleeping in her arms every single night, her lips pressing against your forehead. 

All of this, of course, terrified you. You had never experienced any feeling as strong as this. You always rolled your eyes at some of the cheesy romance novels you read, as the main characters always seemed so overdramatic to you. You never thought the feeling of desire could be so painful. You saw Abby everyday, and yet she felt so far away at the same time. Suddenly those romance novels felt too real.

You suppressed these feelings the best you could, because you weren’t even sure if Abby felt the same way. You had a strong feeling she didn’t, and you weren’t going to severely embarrass yourself by confessing your love to someone who you were sure wasn’t going to reciprocate those feelings.

You weren’t sure how well you’d be able to suppress your feelings for any longer, though, knowing that Abby was actually going to be joining you on patrol. 

Maybe that was the true reason for your nervousness.

Three knocks on your door pulled you out of the recesses of your mind. Whitney’s muffled voice could be heard on the other side.

“You ready?” She asked. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You replied with a sigh. You stood up from the bed and grabbed your backpack, slinging the straps securely over your shoulders. Whitney had opened the door, meeting your eyes with a smile. You returned the warm expression, exiting your room, and locking the door behind you. The two of you made your way down the hall.

“How’re you feeling? Excited? Nervous?” Whitney questioned. You shrugged.

“Honestly? I’m feeling all sorts of things. I just hope everything goes well.” You replied. Whitney playfully nudged you with her shoulder.

“Hey, don’t worry too much. Most of the time, patrol runs go pretty smoothly. You’re bound to have some mishaps here and there, but usually everyone comes back safely. We’ll be alright, I know it.”

You felt reassured by Whitney’s words, grinning at her as a silent thanks for soothing your nerves. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for another few minutes, but it wasn’t long until Whitney was speaking again, deciding to discuss another topic.

“So… about you and Abby.” She began.

You groaned in annoyance,feeling warmth immediately spread to your cheeks at the mere mention of the woman’s name. Whitney only chuckled at your obvious suffering. “I was wondering… did you two fight?”

You turned your head to look at Whitney quizzically. “No? What makes you think we fought?”

Whitney looked at you like you just asked her what two plus two was. “The both of you haven’t talked to each other in like… 10 years. I can’t help but think something happened.”

“We still talk to each other, Whitney.”

“Does only saying ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ count as talking?” She asked.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the truth in Whitney’s words. You hadn’t actually held a conversation with Abby in days . She would always make an effort to spend time with you but you always had some kind of excuse at the ready. They were often lousy ones, and you could tell that Abby could see right through them but decided against saying anything about it.

“I admit, things are… awkward between us, but-”

“She feels the same way.”

You paused in the middle of your sentence, sighing exasperatedly. “Whitney… how can you be so sure?”

“Because I see it. Just take my word for it, okay?” She replied, giving you a teasing smile. You didn’t even have time to respond, since the two of you had already reached your destination.

Eventually, you made it to where Abby and Alice were waiting near the vehicles. You saw Abby kneeling on the ground, gently petting Alice and showering the canine in all of the praise and affection in the world. While grabbing your weapons and extra ammunition, you stole a few glances at her, feeling a smile creep up on your lips as you watched Alice lick her face happily, to which Abby tried to move away, the sound of laughter cutting through all the chatter and extra noise that you heard around you. 

You’d never be able to get over the way Abby’s smile lit up her entire face, or the way her cheeks gradually took on a redder tint the longer the laughing continued. Abby would react the same way whenever you told her a stupid joke, or whenever you told about a funny line of dialogue in a book you took turns reading–

“When you’re done making googly eyes at your crush, come get in the truck, please.” Whitney’s voice, once again, pulled you out of your pleasant trance.

You cleared your throat, looking away shyly. “Right. My bad.”

You made sure your pistol was snug in your holster before slinging your rifle over your shoulder and making your way toward Abby. She stood up from her kneeling position on the floor, a certain something in her eyes that you just couldn’t decipher. She smiled at you a little awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair that fell in front of her face behind her ear.

“Heya.” She spoke. You grinned, ignoring the slight jump in your heart rate just from standing in front of her.

“Hi.” You replied, butterflies viciously attacking your stomach against your will. 

“First patrol. You got everything you need?”

“Believe so.”

“Alright, then. Let’s get moving.” She said, to which you nodded curtly.

Whitney opened the door to the passenger’s side, allowing Alice to jump in. As Abby was already climbing into the back of the truck, you threw a glare in Whitney’s direction, to which Whitney only smiled deviously. 

“What? Alice loves riding shotgun!” She said innocently before getting into the driver’s seat and giggling to herself like a plotting supervillain in a movie.

You shook your head, reluctantly getting into the back of the truck with Abby. When everyone was all settled, Whitney took off, eventually exiting the stadium. All that could be heard for several minutes was the sound of the tires on the dirt road and the songs from the birds that flew overhead. Abby seemed to be looking everywhere but at you, and Whitney’s eyes were focused on the road ahead, so you took this time to let your eyes take in the view directly in front of you.

Abby had settled for her usual loose tank top and cargo pants, and her hair was in her usual braid. There were always strands of hair that managed to fall in front of her face anyway, and you found it absolutely adorable how she would occasionally blow the strands out of her face in annoyance. You let yourself relax in your seat a little, admiring the constellations of freckles on her arms. Briefly, you were taken back to your last training session with her, remembering the way those same arms wrapped around you to “help you adjust your fighting stance.” You could easily recall her proximity during the session and the look of genuine proudness on her face when you successfully demonstrated a specific move she had taught you. Of course, you’ll never forget the moment you had her totally stunned, using a newly learned takedown move to pin her to the ground. A flame had been ignited in both of her eyes as she looked at you with something other than pride. It was an expression that you couldn't quite pinpoint, but you knew that if you had kept her pinned for any longer that you would've ended up doing something you'd regret; so, you were off of her quickly, laughing the obvious tension away and completely burying Abby's heated gaze in your mind and storing it for later.

When your eyes moved up from Abby's biceps and to face, you found she was already looking at you. She offered you a small smile, to which returned, feeling heat creep up your neck in embarrassment at being caught ogling. Either Abby didn't notice or chose not to comment, and whatever the case was, you were thankful.

She rested both of her elbows on her knees, spreading her legs as she leaned forward. Abby man-spreading was another sight to behold.

"So. How have you been doing?" She asked. 

Miserable. Because I miss you and I'm sorry for pushing you away but I'm in love with you and can't find the words. 

You opted for a simpler response. "I've been good. Honestly, this is the only exciting part of my week."

Abby chuckled. "Yeah, I hear you. How are you feeling about this, by the way?" 

There was some silence as you carefully picked out your next words. "A little anxious. But I'm proud of myself for being able to get this far away from the stadium."

"You should be proud. Overcoming your fears like this isn't easy," she said. "And just for the record, I always feel a little bit of anxiety before patrol. I think it's a good thing; it makes me more focused, and I feel like my senses are heightened." 

You nodded, clinging on to her words. "That's a nice way of looking at it. It's kind of comforting to know that Isaac's top Scar killer still gets a little nervous, too." You replied. 

Abby laughed at the statement, and there was that familiar warmth that spread through you. 

"Of course I do. I'm not fearless, you know. Aside from heights, there are plenty of other things that make me nervous." 

"Like what?" You inquired. 

Abby shifted in her seat. She looked away from you, turning her head to look at the scenery surrounding her. Immediately, your mouth soured, and you began mentally chastising yourself for making her feel uncomfortable. You were about to apologize and forget about the question all together until Abby spoke again. 

"Losing the people that I care about." She said softly. The tone of the conversation shifted from casual to something much more serious, and you looked at Abby pitifully at her confession. With the way Abby's eyes were downcast, you could tell that she was reminded of something – or someone. 

You wanted to reach out and place a comforting hand on her knee or squeeze her hand. Instead, you stayed put, opting to console her only verbally. 

"I'm sorry, Abby." Was all you could muster.

"Don't be." She replied, finally looking at you again with a barely noticeable grin on her face. 

There was a silence that settled between the both of you as the two of you continued to gaze at the scenery as Whitney drove. At some point, Whitney had called from the passenger's seat that they were almost there. 

The sound of Abby's throat clearing brought your attention back to her. 

"Hey, so… I wanted to talk to you about something." She started. 

You stiffened in your seat but you hoped that it didn't look obvious. "Shoot." You said in response. 

"It's about us." 

"Us?" You swallowed.

"Yeah. I mean, things have been weird, right?" 

Your eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. "How so?" You asked.

"Has something been on your mind lately? You know you can tell me anything, right?" 

Not this time.

“Don’t worry about me, Abs.” You chuckled nervously. You threw her a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes to ease her worrying.

Abby sighed. "But you’ve been so quiet these past few days. I really miss-”

"We have arrived!" Whitney yelled from the driver's seat after finding a place to park. Abby was immediately getting off of the truck, and you honestly wanted to forget all about patrol and continue the conversation you were having with her. But you knew what was the priority right now, and so you brushed off Abby's words, focusing on the task at hand.

The four of you exited the truck and began making your way toward a gas station. 

"Alright. Let's check for supplies." Whitney said, leading the way toward the entrance of the small store. She opened the door, her weapon at the ready, looking in all sorts of directions to make sure it was clear. She stepped aside to make room for you and Abby when she deemed it was safe. 

While Alice kept watch like the good girl she was, the three of you silently put whatever you could fit in your bags in terms of food and any other items that might be deemed useful. You managed to scavenge some good items, and you were amazed at just how many worthwhile supplies had been left behind. 

Everything was awfully quiet, almost too quiet. But you weren’t complaining.

You took a small break from scavenging when your eyes landed on a display of sunglasses. There were only a few on the rack, and many of them had broken lenses, but then you saw a pair of pink cat-eye glasses that looked practically untouched. You giggled in amusement, taking the glasses and trying them on just for the hell of it. 

There was a small mirror next to the rack, and when you stole a glance at your reflection, your quiet snickering turned into a louder, sharper laugh that you couldn't contain. Abby, upon hearing the sound, stopped browsing the aisle she was roaming in and went to go find you, only to smile at you fondly when she finally saw what you were up to.

For several minutes, you were pulling silly faces in the mirror, and even with something as small as a pair of funny looking glasses, you found yourself completely entertained.

You heard Abby walking up to you, so you whipped your head around to look at her. 

"How do I look?" You asked her, striking an absolutely ridiculous pose. You may have been hearing things, but you thought that you even heard Whitney chuckling from wherever she was in the store. 

Abby could only shake her head at your antics, but she did give you an answer. 

"Those really suit you." She replied. 

"Why, thank you. I think the hot pink goes really well with the tan of my cargo pants." You said, jokingly. 

Satisfied with your little fashion show, you put the glasses back where you found them. Abby was still standing next to you, her amused smile never leaving her face. Her expression was something you'd never seen her sport. Her gaze was soft as she looked upon you with eyes full of complete admiration, and you found yourself being locked in place, as if in a trance, returning the eye contact. 

You cleared your throat. "Did… did you want to try them on?" You asked. Abby shook her head, laughing to herself quietly. 

"I know these aren't really your style but… I don't know, I think you could rock them. Please?" You pleaded, drawing out the "e" in the word.

"You just want to laugh at me." Abby responded through a fit of giggles. 

"Nope, I swear I won't laugh." You said, shaking your head vehemently. But the smile tugging at the corners of your lips revealed your true intentions. 

Abby reluctantly agreed.

"Will you put them on for me?" She asked. Nodding excitedly, you picked up the glasses again and gestured for her to come closer to you. 

"Come here." You said. Abby did just that, standing directly in front of you. You swore you could feel her breath fanning across your face from the proximity.

Just as you were about to place the glasses on Abby's face, you heard a short and sharp whistle pierce the air. 

You and Abby froze, and you immediately dropped the glasses, removing your pistol from its holster. Abby did the same thing, recognizing that sound instantly. 

"I'm not the only one who heard that, right?" Whitney asked as she rounded the corner from one the aisles. 

"Definitely not the only one. We've got Scars in the area." Abby confirmed. You felt every hair on your body stand on edge. You saw Abby, Whitney, and Alice take cover, so you followed suit, hiding behind the counter where the now useless cash register sat. 

You closed your eyes, trying to recall all the hours of gun and defense training that you learned in this very moment, but it was all hazy. You were starting to feel the effects of fear now, your palms sweaty, causing you to constantly re-adjust your grip of the gun. You found that what Abby had mentioned earlier was definitely proving to be true – although you were terrified, you felt hyper aware of every noise and small movement in the corner of your eye. 

You heard another short whistle again, but this time, you could definitely hear the barely there footsteps of a group of Seraphites walking toward the store. 

From the counter, you slowly raised your head, trying to see how many there were. You counted three from where you were crouched. 

While you were making a mental note of how many Seraphites there were, you failed to notice Abby sneaking up next to you. You felt her touch your arm, and you flinched, but Abby was quick to cover your mouth before any sounds of surprise escaped. 

"Sorry. It's just me." She whispered, removing her hand. "There's six in total. Three inside and three outside. We're gonna try to take them out quietly." Abby spoke. You nodded, trying to cling onto her words but all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears, beating wildly.

Abby could sense the anxiety coursing through you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "This is what you're good at, right? All those moves we practiced, now you finally get to use them. You can do this." 

You shook your head. Your eyes began to sting, serving as a telltale sign that tears would soon follow. You wanted the ground to swallow you up in this moment, feelings of inadequacy bubbling within you. Abby saw the faraway look in your eyes and immediately tried to quell any negative feelings you were experiencing.

"You can do this. Repeat it." 

"Abby-" 

"Say it." She urged, but there was no harshness in her tone. 

"I… I can do this." You said, and maybe you were beginning to give into false hope, but even just saying those words out loud seemed to put you in a different mindset. Abby grinned, and with that, she scurried off, probably to go get her first kill. You could hear the sound of quiet struggling from elsewhere in the store, followed by dead silence, and you made the assumption that Whitney probably already took care of one, leaving five still standing. 

You heard another go down, this time hearing the soft thud of the body hitting the floor. You couldn't let them do all the work, no matter how badly you wanted to.

With one final exhale, you were set in motion. 

There was one checking out the storage room in the back of the store, making sure the coast was clear, you followed behind the unassuming Seraphite, who carried a pistol. 

You replaced your gun with a handy combat knife that you carried around, closing the distance between you and the Seraphite slowly but surely. It looked like it was going to be a perfect kill. 

Until you stepped on a discarded bag of chips, the sound loudly making your presence known. 

The Seraphite froze, and slowly turned around. When her eyes landed on you, she gasped, her eyes wide. 

"There's a Wolf in here!" She yelled, and in a split second, the pistol was fired, but you managed to dodge out of the way in time. The Seraphite didn't waste a second in trying to shoot again, but you were quicker than her. 

The Seraphite's alert quickly caused chaos around you; you heard gunshots in the store, and you briefly thought about Abby and Whitney and hoped that they were holding up okay. But that thought was fleeting, and instead you focused on your own safety. 

With your knife, you went straight for her stomach, the gun in her hands dropping to the ground almost immediately. You pushed her up against a wall, and her hands were trying to grip anything that she could reach. She tugged at your arms and even tried to claw at your face, but you pushed the knife in deeper, and soon enough her body began to relax. You were looking directly at her, and it was during this moment that you finally understood what it meant to truly watch the life leave someone's eyes. 

Despite the fact that this woman had tried to kill you mere seconds ago, it was a sorrowful sight, watching the realization hit her like crashing waves against the shore that she was going to die. When she completely stopped moving, and fell to the ground, blankly staring into space, it was only then that you realized the entire store had fallen silent. 

You wiped your knife clean on your cargo pants, the vibrant color of the woman's blood staining the fabric.

You calmly walked out of the storage room, letting your feet guide the way as you currently felt like you were outside of your body. You thought you heard Abby and Whitney saying something to you, but their voices fell on deaf ears. All you could think about was how you couldn’t breathe in this damn store and needed to get out.

You slammed open the doors, your knees immediately falling onto the ground below. You felt like you were suffocating, your chest tight and your stomach feeling as if it had been flipped upside down. 

There was an incessant ringing in your ears, a ringing sound so loud that it was all you could focus on. You didn’t even notice the Seraphite that was barreling toward you until it was too late.

It felt like the wind had gotten knocked out of you as the man straddled you. Whatever had possessed you to take out the Seraphite woman in the storage room was not returning. There were sirens going off in your mind, and you knew you had to do something, anything to get this man off of you otherwise you would die . You knew this, and yet, when the man had his hands around your throat, you couldn’t lift even a finger. His face, scrunched up in pure anger and hatred, was getting blurrier and blurrier, the trees around the both of you becoming large blobs of green. The man was practically crushing you with his weight, and it was then you realized the futility in fighting back.

You were lying there for what felt like an eternity, wondering which breath would be your last, until the man was suddenly thrown off of you. 

You sat up immediately, air rushing back into your lungs all at once as you you coughing uncontrollably. When you regained your vision, you saw Abby beside you, now on top of the man, beating the ever living shit out of him.

The sound that was produced when Abby’s fists met with the man’s face made you physically cringe, and it was even harder to watch, so instead, you opted for closing your eyes, relishing in the fact that you were still alive to feel the sunlight hitting your skin. 

“Abby! Abby, stop!” You heard Whitney say, and the sound of Abby’s punches eventually ceased. 

When your eyes opened again, you took in the state Abby was in. Her eyes were blown wide, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths. Both of her knuckles had been painted red, and you knew that she was probably going to wake up with pretty black and blue bruises the next morning with how forceful her punches were. 

There was a silence that fell over the three of you as you all waited for the adrenaline to leave your systems. You knew that just sitting here out in the open may not have been a good idea, but in the haze of your fatigue, you were more than grateful for those few seconds of tranquility. 

"We should go." Whitney said, grabbing Alice and heading toward the truck. You and Abby had waited for a few more moments. 

"Are you hurt?" Abby asked. 

You shook your head wordlessly, emptily staring at the ground below you.

"You're sure?" 

You nodded your head this time to confirm. You didn't trust your voice enough to speak. 

Abby nodded, standing up and offering out her hand to you. You took it, and when she pulled you up, you made the mistake of looking at her face. 

The expression on her face could not all be compared to the one she had in the store when she watched you put on those stupid glasses. No, this one was much more hardened, her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. 

She's upset at you. For being so careless. 

No, worse. She's disappointed. 

Abby always knew when you were drifting, and she placed a hand on your shoulder to pull you out whatever thoughts were brewing up in your mind. You felt your eyes stinging again. 

"Are you with me?" She asked, and it was then you realized that the two of you were standing right in front of the truck bed. You didn't realize your thoughts had halted you in your tracks. Looking away apologetically, you just nodded again, knowing that if you opened your mouth it would all come crashing down. 

Abby helped you onto the back of the truck, and when everyone was seated, Whitney drove off. The entire ride was unsettling. You could feel Abby's eyes on you the entire ride, but you couldn't return the eye contact.

When you returned to the stadium, you wasted no time in getting off of the truck and heading back toward your room. Whitney was quick to stop you, gently touching your shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked. You shrugged.

“Don’t worry about me, Whitney. I just need to be alone for a few minutes.” You replied. 

“I understand. Abby and I were gonna grab a bite to eat. You want me to get you something?” She asked. At the mention of Abby, you glanced over Whitney’s shoulder, and you saw the woman in question leaning against the truck, her worried eyes already staring you down. 

“No thanks.” You muttered quickly, tearing your eyes off of Abby, her concerned expression burned into your mind. You ran off to your room, and before Whitney could ask if you were sure, you were already long gone. 

You had taken a quick shower before heading to your room, staying in there for longer than necessary as you relentlessly tried to scrub away the build up of dirt and crime from today’s patrol. When your skin had practically been scrubbed raw, you changed into your typical loungewear, an old, slightly oversized shirt and sweatpants.

When you made it to your room, you closed and locked the door behind you, walking with hurried steps to your bed. As you relaxed atop the firmness of your mattress, it was then you realized just how exhausted you were. Patrol had drained every bit of energy from your body, and the soft cotton of your clothing as well as calming effects of a hot shower was only adding to your tiredness. You didn’t even try to fight it when you felt your eyelids getting heavy…

But once your eyes closed, you didn’t see darkness. Instead, you saw the Seraphite woman’s face. You saw her eyes and the way they slowly took on that cold, blank stare. You saw the man that had attempted to strangle you and the pure, murderous intent in his eyes as he tried to take your life.

You shook your head as if that would dispel the images that came to your mind, eyebrows furrowing as your body began reacting on its own. You could feel the intensity of your rapidly beating heart, perspiration coating your skin, as if you were back at the convenience store and not in the comfort of your own room. 

Your brain was replaying the events at the convenience store today, except it was slightly different. The man was on top of you, strangling you, but this time, Abby wasn’t there. Nor Whitney. Not even Alice. You were all alone as the man on top of you kept you pinned to the ground. The world around you was hazy as your vision began to weaken. The ringing in your ears was back and stronger than ever before; it was deafening.

Right before your consciousness left you, you saw another person standing above the man. It was the woman you had stabbed. The knife was still plunged in her stomach, but she was clearly alive and standing. She wore a smile that was far too wide and had far too many teeth on display. 

You shot up in bed, letting out a loud shriek.

You heard pounding on your door.

“___? What’s going on? Please, open the door!”

You could recognize that voice anywhere.

You stood up, slowly and on shaky legs to open the door. Abby was standing on the other side, clutching a burrito in her hands, her eyes wide. Her hair was down, dressed in another one of her tattered tanks and sweatpants.

“Please tell me you're okay.” She said urgently.

Just from Abby’s presence alone, you felt like you could relax. Like you were truly safe.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” I’m fine now that you’re here . “It was just a bad dream.” You replied, and neither one of you could deny the clear shakiness in your voice. Abby’s gaze softened immediately, and she wasted no time in wrapping her arms around you, holding you close against her rigid body. Your arms, almost instinctively, snaked around her back, and you buried your face in one of her broad shoulders. You could tell she had just washed up as well, the scent of pine completely engulfing you. She was still standing in the doorway, and you had no doubt that some people were walking by and watching all of this go down, but in the moment you couldn’t care less. 

You were clinging to Abby for a bit longer than what would be considered normal, and once you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment, you pulled away. Abby’s hands lingered around your waist for a fraction of a second but to you, it felt like they were there for an eternity, and when she removed them you swore you could feel the ghost of her touch.

Abby awkwardly glanced at the burrito in her hands, oblivious to your panicking. “I, um… brought you this, because it’s been a couple of hours and you haven’t eaten anything yet, so…” She said, holding it out to you.

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “Thank you.” You said, accepting it, even though you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment; but you were appreciative nonetheless.

“No problem.” Abby responded. “Can I… come in?”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, of course.” You said, stepping aside. Abby returned the smile, doing just that, and you shut the door again once she was inside. 

She sat comfortably atop your bed, and you joined her, sitting close next to her, your leg brushing against hers. You set the still wrapped up burrito on your bedside table where you knew it would grow cold. 

“I, um,” Abby began. “I wanted to check on you, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about you today.” 

You froze, not sure how to react to the fact that Abby just admitted to you she was thinking about you. You knew you had to say something, though, or else Abby would start getting worried.

“Oh… really?” You asked, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so out of it. 

“Yeah. I saw you storm off earlier when talking to Whitney. I wanted to follow you but I knew you probably wanted space. The whole time I was eating, though, I was just… really hoping you were alright.”

Your heart warmed at Abby’s words. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” You said. Abby shook her head fervently.

“No, it’s okay, I was just in my own head. How are you feeling right now, anyway?”

You paused to deeply consider your response. You could’ve easily just told her that you were doing fine, to rid Abby of any concern over you; but she was always truthful with you, so it would only be right to be truthful with her. She always knew the best ways to comfort you, anyway, and you knew she would never judge you for anything. In the relatively short time that you’ve gotten to know her, that was one thing she made clear to you from the beginning.

“I’m still a little… shaken by what happened today. That’s what my dream was about, actually.” You started, speaking softly. 

“Oh.” Abby said quietly. “I totally understand. Patrol today was scary for everyone involved.” 

You shook your head. “Yeah, but… I can’t help but think it’s all my fault…”

Abby looked at you quizzically. “What’s all your fault?”

“I stepped on a fucking bag of chips,” you laughed, but it was completely humorless. “And then after I killed that woman, I just ran out. It was stupid of me. I’m sure I scared the shit out of you and Whitney.” 

Abby remained silent.

“And of course, you had to save me. You literally trained me, taught me everything I needed to know and I still got myself in that situation. I just feel like I don’t belong here. What good am I to anybody if I can’t… If I can’t…” 

The tremor in your voice returned, and Abby was quick to get off the bed and kneel in front of you, cradling your face with her large hands.

“Hey. Look at me. Please.” She said softly.

It took you several long seconds, but eventually you met her eyes. 

“You do belong here. I don’t want you thinking otherwise for so much as a second. Every WLF in this stadium brings something to table and you are no different.”

“But Abby, I–”

“Please, listen to me.” Abby interjected. You didn’t say anything else and let her continue.

“It was your very first patrol. People make mistakes. You were frozen in fear, and that’s okay . That’s why we go in groups in the first place, so when another person gets themselves into trouble, someone else is there to help. You are alive and breathing and that is what’s most important, right?”

You nodded.

Abby removed her hands from your face, opting to hold your hands instead. “You are stronger than you know. You conquered your biggest fear of leaving the stadium, and you did well for your first patrol. You should be proud of yourself. I am definitely proud of you.”

You looked at Abby with surprise all over your face. “So you’re not… disappointed?”

Abby released an incredulous laugh. “Oh my god, no. Never.” 

You smiled. It was a wide smile, one that stretched from ear to ear. Abby felt herself instantly mimicking the expression. 

“I’m so glad I have you around,” you said. Abby chuckled.

“I got you. Always.”

As the two of you stared at each other, there was a blanket of silence that fell over the both of you. Both of your faces were mere inches apart, and suddenly the eye contact was making you feel shy. 

Now is your chance. 

You might not get another opportunity like this.

You ignored the voices in your head.

“Well, um… It’s getting late. I’m sure you have stuff to do tomorrow morning.” You said, your heart beating so fast you thought it would pop straight out of your chest. Abby stood up, and you could’ve sworn you saw her frown for half a second. But your mind was probably playing tricks on you. Right?

“Yeah… No doubt Isaac will have something for me to do.” Abby said. She began walking toward the door. You already missed her and she hadn’t even left yet.

She stood in front of the door, hand resting on the doorknob. She turned to you. 

“Well… goodnight.” She said.

“Yeah. Goodnight.” You replied stiffly.

Abby opened the door. But before she could even put one foot outside, you stopped her in her tracks.

“Actually, wait.” You said, standing up abruptly.

Abby didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

You sighed. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears now and your palms felt clammy.

“I… shit. I didn’t prepare for this.” You said, laughing out loud. Abby found herself grinning but she was still visibly confused.

“We haven’t known each other for that long. But honestly it feels like I’ve known you my entire life.” You began. Slowly, Abby closed the door, leaning against it as she listened to you.

“I don’t even know what I would do without you. I’m just… so grateful for you, and… fuck…”

You went back and forth in your mind, contemplating your next words carefully. Months of friendship was on the line, and what you wanted to say next had the potential of throwing it all down the drain. But it was a risk you were willing to take.

“I love you.” You confessed. “And not in the– the platonic way. I… shit… I’m sorry if that was too forward but–”

Abby said your name softly, stopping your rambling. You stood there, nervously waiting for rejection.

But rejection isn’t what you got.

“I love you, too. So much.”

You could’ve fainted. “Really? Abby Anderson, are you messing with me?” You said, a smile lighting up your face.

“I am dead serious. I am so fucking glad you said something or else I was going to go crazy.” Abby laughed.

You found yourself laughing too, completely dumbfounded. “My god… we both felt this way for so long and neither of us had a clue. What the hell.” There were tears in your eyes now, but not the sad kind.

When you had calmed down, wiping the wetness from your face, you spoke again. “So, what now?” You asked.

With a smirk on her face, Abby walked over to you, placing her hands on your waist. You were starting to feel like they belonged there.

“There’s something that I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Can I show you?”

You already knew what Abby was asking, nodding fervently. “Holy shit. Yes. Please.” You replied.

Abby closed the small distance between the two of you, her lips connecting with yours gently. The both of you stayed like that for several moments, Abby being the first one to pull away. She rested her forehead against yours.

Kissing her is exactly what you thought it would be. It almost felt magical – it was like her lips had put a spell on you, a spell that made you want to continue kissing her forever. It was as if you were floating, electricity running through your veins.

“Do it again.” You whispered softly. 

Abby didn’t need you to repeat yourself, capturing your lips in yet another passionate kiss. The second one was much more intense, your hands tangled in Abby’s hair as the both of you slowly waddled over to the bed.

Abby laid down first, allowing you to settle on top of her, your lips never staying apart for more than a couple of seconds. You could barely breathe but you couldn’t get enough. In a frenzy of lips, tongue, and hands everywhere, neither of you heard the sound of the door opening until it was too late.

“Hey, how’re you– oh shit!”

The sound of Whitney’s voice had the two of you breaking apart immediately. You scrambled off of Abby, straightening out your clothes and wiping away the wetness that coated your lips. Abby sat up, but instead of being mortified, she kept that smirk on her face, clearly amused by the situation.

“Whitney– Jesus Christ, have you ever heard of knocking?” You exclaimed. Whitney doubled over in laughter, clearly finding joy in your suffering.

“I’m so sorry! I was distracted!” She said, holding up her PS Vita that you just now noticed she was holding.

“You and those goddamn games,” You muttered under your breath.

“Well, I see you two finally came around. God, I can’t wait to rub this in Nora’s face.”

“What?” You said, visibly confused.

“Oh, me and Nora had a bet going. Now she has to do my dishes for a week straight.” Whitney said. Your jaw dropped.

“A bet? Whitney, I can’t believe you.” You said through a fit of chuckles, not being able to suppress your own laughter either.

“I’m not even surprised.” Abby chimed in.

Whitney crossed her arms, leaning against the door. “Okay, so. Tell me everything. Who confessed first? Who kissed who first?” She asked. You rolled your eyes.

“I can give you the details later.” You said.

Whitney sighed, but she didn’t bother trying to pull the information out of you. 

“Fine.” She said, walking over to her bed and plopping down atop the sheets, her eyes returning to the PS Vita screen. 

You and Abby stood there awkwardly. Whitney glanced at the two of you, and then gasped.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I should give you guys privacy, huh? Do you want me to go?”

You immediately shook your head. “What? Whitney, no. I’m not kicking you out of our room-”

“You can stay in mine.” Abby interrupted. You whipped your head around to look at her.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Manny is hanging out with some woman tonight, so it’s just me.” 

“Okay, then.” You said, smiling happily. Abby looked back at you with pure adoration in her gaze, leaning in to kiss you again. And again. And again.

“Okay. Ew. Leave.”

You chuckled at Whitney’s disgust. “Goodnight, Whitney.” You said, grabbing Abby’s hand and going toward the door.

Whitney decided to say one last thing before the both of you left.

“Remember. We have thin walls around here. So don’t be too loud-”

“Oh my god, shut up.” You cut her off before she could even finish her sentence, leaving the room. You could just faintly hear Whitney’s breathy laugh as you closed the door.

“She’s so annoying.” You muttered, but there was nothing but fondness in your tone.

“I just can’t believe that she knew we were into each other before either of us realized it.” Abby said. The two of you began walking down the hall to her room, hands clasped together and arms swinging slightly as you both walked.

Abby’s words had reminded you of an earlier conversation with Whitney. “Holy shit. She literally told me.”

“Told you what?” She asked.

“Before we went out on patrol, she… she told me you felt the same way. I thought she was crazy so I asked her how she knew, and she just said ‘I see things’ or something like that. You know, all cryptic and shit. But I guess she really does see things.”

Abby shook her head, chuckling at Whitney’s antics. “Wow. Again, I really can’t say I’m surprised.”

Eventually, you two made it to Abby’s room, and you both wasted no time in getting in bed together, holding each other close. It was a small bed, just like yours, definitely not made for two people, but you made it work. You were practically on top of Abby in order to fit, but it was clear she didn’t mind it one bit.

You had one leg over her midsection while one of Abby’s hands stroked your back calmly and gently. You could die happy in this position. 

The stadium wasn’t your home. Abby was.

— epilouge —

“Hey, Bri,” You greeted, getting ready to help her wash some clothes for today. As you began scrubbing the clothes over the washboard, you started humming a random tune, a light smile decorating your face.

“You’re in a good mood.” Bri noted. 

“Aren’t I usually in a good mood?” You asked, chuckling at nothing in particular.

“I mean, I guess, but… you just seem extra lively today.”

From where you were in the bleachers, you looked out and saw Abby walking down the stairs, heading out to do patrol. She knew you were washing clothes today, and she turned her head to look at you, a killer smirk resting on her face. She winked.

“Yeah… I guess I am.” You replied, the fondness in your eyes clear as day.

[rings-of-power-realm]

I've been a fan of Tolkien for over 40 years, read everything he has published and read The Hobbit and LOTR a half dozen times over those decades. I loved the Rankin/Bass animated versions of the story as a teen and I thoroughly enjoyed Peter Jackson's take on the tale and appreciated the artistic license he took to round the stories out for film. I had no expectations going into The Rings of Power, positive or negative. I hoped it would be a beautiful expansion of a world I love and wanted to see more of. I saw the usually people already complaining about this and that, assuming they knew what was best for the works and of course knowing exactly what Tolkien would want and dislike (eye roll) and tried to ignore these trolls completely. They seem to like to ruin any and every journey before it gets a chance to begin and I would not want to spend one moment with these joyless creatures. All that being said I sat down with a snack and refreshments release night and watched the first episodes of The Rings of Power and was dumbfounded. What did I just watch I said to myself. It certainly wasn't anything like the trash mob of negative internet trolls said it would be. It was glorious. From the moment Galadriel's opening voiceover began to the second she plunged her brother's dagger into the ice wall I realized I had leaned forward on the couch and was smiling from ear to ear. The world had faded away and I was enthralled by the beautiful cinematography, the vivid colors and the sheer breadth of the opening shots, the Tolkienesque dialogue...I watched it again. Nope not me imagining it. I watched the rest of the episode and was so tickled I watched it again. I then watched the second. I was so happy, it's indescribable. They struck all the right notes and I was in that world again, like I was reading the books or watching the movies... immersed in Middle Earth and it's tales. Somehow they took the charm and detail of Jackson's movies, added a heavy dose of Tolkien lore, some artistic license and flawless creative CGI and created something fresh but familiar. I knew this place but it was like seeing it with new eyes, the inhabitants and places the same but even more vibrant. So far I'm thrilled with what they have done. If the story pans out and it continues on this path they may have something fantastic on their hands. Something to be celebrated by TRUE Tolkien fans and lovers of Middle Earth. "But it's not Tolkien's story." Well he's not around to create any more content, and it is based on the world and characters he created. If you don't want to watch something he didn't actually write tune out, but don't ruin it for the rest of us. What's wrong with more stories from Middle Earth even if they aren't written by the man himself if they're done well and in his spirit? "Why did they cast so diversely?" Well I don't know how to help you with your "problem" but the way I see it, the only people taking umbrage with that probably have questionable character. Tolkien created a large world with many races, species, etc. I don't remember him ever writing specifically that they were all white. Naturally in a world that big there would be many beautiful types of people, races, ethnicities and cultures. The expansion of this in the show only adds to the richness of the story. If not it would a pretty vanilla tale indeed. If you find yourself complaining about diversity you should probably take a long look in the mirror and ask yourself the real reason you have a problem with it. Lastly I want to address once more the groups that like to mass negative review things. You reveal yourselves when you give a negative review to something before it's even been released in its entirety. I'll be the first to edit this if it turns badly later, but I'll give it it's due first. It's seems like some kind of sickness, the need to try to ruin something just because they don't agree with how it's done or who's in it. It really invalidates all your reviews because you're not reviewing a thing on its content, you're reviewing it on your prejudice, you're reviewing according to your hateful opinions. You won't even give it a chance because "I hate this, and don't like that...oh the wokeness!" Not one of you will be able to look past any of your personal hang ups to give the story and it's presentation a chance to stand on its own, therefore your reviews are meaningless and should be treated as such. I hope that that's taken into account when the time comes to invest in more chapters, seasons and stories if this pans out. If you don't like it go away and let the rest of us enjoy it without having to listen to you try to ruin something without giving it a chance. Gandalf would disapprove. "May dawn take you all and be stone to you!" More Middle Earth is a Good Thing! by redkingisalive imdb 10 star review

[haitanisbug]

Puppy boy! Kazutora x Reader

CW: 18+ Material. Minors do not interact. Hybrid/ puppy boy. Implications of pet play. Mention of past abuse.

After a few months of moving into the city, and getting used to a new job, the weight of your loneliness started to set on your shoulders. One of your coworkers had mentioned adopting a hybrid to help curb the feeling. “I just got a kitty boy and you wouldn't believe how sweet he is! You should look into adopting a hybrid too. I always have someone to look forward to after work now and I feel a lot happier!”

 What the hell, you think. Might as well give it a shot, not like your life could get any worse. Making new friends in the city was difficult, maybe this would help you gain some confidence and help you acclimate to a new city. So on your next free weekend you head to one of the hybrid adoption centers. When you walk through the doors the sound of animals purring, playing and barking immediately reaches your ears. You can’t see any of the hybrids from the front room but judging where the sound was coming from you could tell that they kept most of them in pens in the back.

 “Hi!! How can I help you today!” The perky lady at the front desk draws your attention.

 “Uhhh yea hi. Um im thinking about adopting a hybrid…” you trail off thinking that this might just be a bad decision to begin with and contemplating turning around and just going home but the front lady looks way too happy about your response and she immediately starts back up.

 “That’s great! We’re always looking for people to take in hybrids now-a-days. We’re almost always at full capacity so I'm glad you’re looking to adopt! Have you had a hybrid before, and do you know what you’re looking for?” She’s opened up a file on her computer and starts clicking away as you speak

 “No I don’t currently have one, and I'm not really sure? I'm at work most of the time and just kinda wish I had something or er- someone I guess, to look forward to seeing when I come home.”

 “Ok great! Usually we recommend puppies for first time hybrid owners. They’re easier to handle than some of the other hybrid species. And if companionship is your goal, they’re usually the best for that too!” She giggles a bit as she comes around to the desk to open the door to the back of the center. “Come on in, we keep all the hybrids in rooms back here. We can walk through, and take a look at each one until we find you a match!”

  The adoption center was a lot larger than you thought because once the lady opens the back door you see rows and rows of rooms lined up on either side of you. The rooms stretch down the hallway and turn into what looks like an even larger hallway at the end of the corridor. Each room has a glass door to easily peek inside at the hybrids. Most of the rooms have a little bed with toys scattered about.

 “Wow, I didn’t know there were so many different types of hybrids.” You gush.

 “Yea, they come in all sorts of species. Some of the more aggressive breeds have to be kept in different centers that are better equipped to house them, so you won't see any of them here.”

 She takes you around through each of the hallways, letting you peek in at each of the hybrids. Some of them walk up to the door curious about the new visitor, some try and play with you through the glass and some (mostly the cat hybrids) ignore you, opting to nap in the corner of their rooms instead.

 You make it almost to the end of the facility when you peek into one of the last rooms. In it, a puppy hybrid is lounging in the corner. He’s got long two toned hair that falls past his shoulders and dark ears that stick up on the top of his head. His tail is wrapped slightly around his body that's splayed on the ground. His tail is full too, with hair sticking up all over it. You cant help but gasp “wow. He’s- hes so pretty.” you mumble.

 “Ah, that’s Kazutora. He usually gets that reaction out of adoptees. He's a handful though.”

 You take a closer look at Kazutora and notice he's got scratches all over his arms and legs. He’s got a couple of nicks in his ears, as if something bit huge chunks out of them, and then you squint at a black marking that's peeking out in the collar of his shirt. “What's that on his neck?”

 The adoption lady looks sad when she answers “Some of the hybrids have come from tough homes. Kazutora here used to be a fighting dog. His last owners were part of an illegal dog fighting ring that had humans bet on hybrid fights. That mark on his neck is their branding mark.”

 “God that's terrible. I didn't even know such things existed.” Tears start to prick at the corner of your eyes. You didn't know how any  human could put another living being through that pain.

 “That's why he's a handful though. Kazutora doesn't trust humans and he can get a bit aggressive. Every home who adopted him has sent him back after a few days. At this point, I don't really think he wants to be adopted.” As you were talking Kazutora has woken up from his little slumber. His eyes are open and he's staring at the both of you standing in front of the door.

 “I want him.” you say.

 “I don't think that's a good idea.” The lady shifts on her feet. “If you're a new hybrid owner, he’ll definitely be too much for you. And he's not the most cuddly. I'm sure one of the earlier puppies will be a better fit!” She tries to lead you away but your heart is set on the puppy boy in front of you.

 “I don't want any of the other hybrids, I want Kazutora.” Sensing the finality in your voice the adoption lady acquiesces with a sigh.

 “If you say so, but just in case, we do have a 60 day return policy if you believe that it isn't a right fit. This should give you and your puppy enough time to see if youre right for each other.”

 As you're waiting for the handler to retrieve Kazutora, you walk back to the front of the facility and sign the official adoption papers. You're waiting on the couch when the large doors swing open and a handler walks in, leash in hand, with Kazutora trailing behind him. Kazutora has got a muzzle fitted over his mouth and he's snapping, growling and cursing at the handler.

 When the handler sees you sitting on the couch he does a double take. “I'm not sure about this. Fucking mutt is really aggressive today.”

 “He's not a mutt. And of course he's aggressive, you've got a muzzle restraining him!” You walk over to the pair and reach your hands up near Kazutoras mouth.

 “Miss! Be careful!” The handler is about to push you away when Kazutoras snarling stops. He's looking at you with wary eyes as you unclip the muzzle from the back of his head. You bring your other hand up to Kazutoras face as the muzzle falls off and you stand really still.

 “Hey Kazutora.” You whisper as to not scare him even more. “I'm going to be your owner from now on. It's nice to meet you!” with golden-brown eyes trained on yours, he moves his head to the side. His cheek brushes up against your hand and he takes a small sniff.

 “I think he likes you” The adoption lady says, watching the scene unfold.

 Once you're sure Kazutora won't bite your head off, you take the leash from the handler and thank the adoption lady as you make your way to your car. Kazutora is mellow the whole ride to your apartment. He doesn't say a word, or make another sound but his ears are laying flat across his head and his nose will sniff the air from time to time. You know he's trying to get used to your surroundings and you don't talk to him in order to help him with this process.

 After you make it up to your apartment, you take his collar off and close the door. “Welcome to your new home Kazutora! It's just me that lives here, so it's quiet most of the time. But I think you’ll like it here. C'mon i'll show you where you'll be sleeping.” He patters softly behind as you walk into your bedroom. You had bought a small bed the weekend before and placed it in the corner of your room for your puppy-to-be. Kazutora glances around the whole room, his ears are standing straight up and so is his tail. He’s definitely on guard, and you step closer to him to comfort him but he steps back away from you a growl escaping his lips.

 “Okay okay! I won't come any closer. I know it's been a long day so… you can take a nap in your new bed if you want? I’ll make us some dinner in the meantime.” You slowly back away and leave him alone in your room. You can't shake the look of hostility and almost fear that was in Kazutora’s eyes just now. He doesn't like quick movements near him, you think. And you make a mental note to not move so suddenly anymore. After dinner is ready, you walk into your room to give Kazutora his plate. He growls as you get closer to his bed so you just set the plate down and scurry out before his aggression escalates.

 You eat alone at the table with a sigh. Maybe you should have listened to the adoption lady. If the point of getting a hybrid was to make you feel less lonely, then why are you sitting at your dinner eating alone? Again. But Kazutoras fearful look, and his body littered with scars comes to mind and you drop your head to the table. “He needs me.” You mumble. And with that in mind you get up to start getting ready for bed.

 When you walk back to your room, Kazutora has fallen asleep, his plate still laying where you placed it but it's licked clean. At least he likes my cooking, you think. And then you turn the lights off and bury yourself in the covers.

 You couldn't have been asleep more than a couple hours when you're suddenly woken up by the sound of whimpering. Kazutora is making all sorts of pained noises, and when you squint in the dark you can tell he's shaking violently too. “Kazutora.” You whisper. When he doesn't respond you say his name a bit louder, with no reply. “He's gotta be having a really bad nightmare.” You call his name once more and his head shoots up. His whole body goes rigid and his chest is heaving as he stares at you.

 If you thought he had fear in his eyes before, the look he's giving you now is haunting. His face has gone sheet white and dread is seeping off of him in waves. “Kazutora, c'mere baby. You were having a nightmare.” You sit up and move the comforter back a bit and that's all it takes before Kazutora is leaping into your bed. He burrows underneath the covers and rubs up against your side. You maneuver him until he’s situated between your legs under the covers, and his head is laying on your chest. He's trembling so much it shakes you, and he hasn't stopped whimpering since you woke him up. They're broken crys, and the sound shatters your heart.

 “Shhh, it's okay “ ‘Tora it's okay. You're safe here, puppy. It was just a dream. No one is going to hurt you again.” your hands are combing through his hair as you get him to quiet down. You feel dampness soaking your sleep shirt, and you guess that Kazutora is probably crying. He nuzzles further into your body the more you play with his hair. And eventually his whimpers die down. His  breathing steadies and you guess he's probably gone to sleep.

 “Who in their right mind would hurt someone as precious as you.” You're whispering to yourself as you begin to scratch under his ears. “You're such a good boy, Kazutora. My good boy.” Soon Kazutora’s snoring turns to purring and you realize he's awake. Your hands fall from his ears and you say “Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up.”

 His head nuzzles into your chest again and you hear a muffled “Dont stop.”

 You freeze, hearing his voice for the first time shocks you. The adoption lady warned you that some hybrids are more shy than others and that it took a while for Kazutora to open up. “Dont stop…..petting. Don't stop petting.” He repeats. And your hands fly to his ears, scratching them at their base.

 You let out a small giggle. “Sorry ‘Tora.” He doesn't say anything back, but the small thumping of his tail is all the confirmation you need, that your puppy is going to be very happy in his new home.