#the smallest star; clementine

[screentimeoverlord]

@hannah-the-small cont. X

"What's the matter? Are you not wanting to talk? Say something? I was just asking one simple little question. What would a perfect date for you be?` What would really leave you breathless, wanting for more?"

[screentimeoverlord]

Getting the words, talk things through, never good to hear. But can't be worse than when Val used to say those words.

"Well, of course it bothers me. I don't want you apart from me. I want this family to be together as much as possible. Let me tell you why. For one, I didn't have that when I was alive growing up, hell, I had more of a family down here and especially now I got you. Now I know things have changed sort of from the normal household dynamic to everyone does something, but to me it feels wrong. Besides, you don't have to work. Look at us, the richest fucking building and industry to keep Pentagram City going on power. Second, you also haven't had the greatest time family wise until that old dog got you."

Vox scoots closer to Clem, arm around her back and the other front to her hand over her own belly. "You are pulling yours and the baby's weight right now anyway. This is all fine."

"Food's great." Clem agreed, finishing off what was in her mouth as she fell quiet for a moment, "... can I... talk to you about something? It's been nagging at me for a bit. I just wanna talk about it, its not calling anything out or whatever, but Vinn says couples should talk stuff through."

"When I said I'd updated my resume, you... looked a little... bothered. You didn't say anything, but I could see it. I talked to Gritt about it, and he suggested that maybe you don't want me going back to work after the baby's born. I said that was stupid, and of course you would want me to. You're not into freeloaders. Gritt... said that it wasn't freeloading if we're a family, but I said people should work and pay their own way or..... you're a problem. Dead weight. He said that I was wrong, and that was Toby talking." She trailed off a little, her hand absently stroking over her swollen belly.

"... you... see that too right? That not pulling my weight is a problem... right?"

[ahelluvahigh]

Fuck it. Sunrise Avenue Songs that are Arackniss relationship coded:

Niss & Roxenne ( @starxstruck-vixen): "Heal Me"

Niss & Charlie ( @ladiesofhell): "All Because of You" /

Niss & Pierre (@hazbinsandweirdos): "Hurtsville" "Fairytale Gone Bad"

Niss & Angel (@arachn0philia): "Nothing is Over"

Niss & Clementine (@the-smallest-star): "Stormy End"

[radi0activesmile]

the-smallest-star asked:

Clem has come out of Gritt's bedroom, no point in sneaking now. "He's doing better." She said to Alastor and Shi, "I should get going. He'll be out in a sec." Seemed to be a vibe with Clementine. She'd come when she was needed, and never stay long enough to be a problem. She was rubbing her shoulders though, like they were cold. Shi's eyes narrowed, it was warm today....

"Take care, my dear~" Alastor said as he mixed the peanut-butter dressing together. At first, he was more focused on his craft than the woman speaking-- however, shortly after she began to head to the door, Alastor casted a glance in her direction. His eyebrow quirked as Odilon shimmied underneath his feet.

Rather than speak up, Alastor turns to look at Shi, his eyebrows raising. No words were spoken, but the expression made it clear:

You see it too, don't you?

Something isn't right.

[rolandostheater]

Go for @the-smallest-star's Clementine, if you wanna get back at Vox on the other verse, go for their family verse.

Rolando just smiles a little bit.~

[screentimeoverlord]

"You think you should go out? Really? I'm sure the guy will let you go out and get something new to wear." He said, clearly not really meaning it like Striker would allow her to shop casually before attacking her again. "Rather, go ask Velvette. I'm sure she'd whip you up something quick."

"Deal." Clem noted the lack of tingling or lights... just a standard fun little deal. That made her relax more, a good natured agreement. She could get behind those. Clem did however notice the hole in her sleeve. Ah.

"I'm gonna need to go shopping at some point, my clothes are getting worn to fuck. I got fifty bucks to my name, but I can probably find some stuff at a thrift store when the heat is off. You'd be surprised what you can find in those places."

[madsxientific]

mr mr you should make a robot toy or something for clems baby

unprompted ask / always accepting!

" I mean I wouldn't be opposed to constructing some infant safe toys. But I shan't do so without Ms. Clementine's permission. "

@the-smallest-star clem mention

[outpost51]

A Freelancer's Guide to Galactic Exploration: The Ix'ai

You're better off surrendering.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The ix'ai (sin. and pl.) are comprised of three separate, distinct oviparous reptilian species that merged into one culture for reasons lost to time. Known widely for their military prowess, societal discipline, and insatiable love of shellfish.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Biology

Ix'ai consist of three species, from smallest to largest: terrestrial, arboreal, and marine. Terrestrials stick to the black stone and glass deserts of their home planet, Totug. They have long legs and delicate feet made for running, and a whiplike tail for balance and defense. They rarely grow taller than three feet (excluding tail length), with most of their height coming from their legs. Their necks are longer, proportionally, than the other ix'ai species to accommodate their frill, which wraps around their shoulders like a capelet when not extended by its hyoid bones. Their scales can change color for camouflage and they have lots of small but very sharp teeth! They bleed red. Up until the advent of weaponry, they were largely a prey species and thus developed a stomach-turning (in more than one way) defense mechanism that has persisted to the present day: they can hack up digestive acid with enough strength to hit a target several feet away. Arboreals hail from the temperate rainforests of Escai where they make their homes in the trees. They hover around 5.5 to 6 feet tall, with strong musculature concentrated in their legs and thick, prehensile tails. Their hands and feet are tipped with strong, thick claws; their feet are also prehensile to assist with climbing, and to the horror of more conservative species, holding things, steering ships, opening jars, and, on occasion, eating. they have toebeans They have bright blue tongues and bleed blue-violet! They also shed their teeth periodically, and it’s not uncommon to see them improvised as shrapnel in explosive devices, polished into beads, or tossed into jars to shake and keep the kids entertained on a long trip. Marine ix'ai originate from Ehek, which they share with the xhrill. They're just big. Big teeth, big jaws, big thick tails they use as rudders when diving, and they tower over arboreals and terrestrials, growing upwards of 7 to 8 feet tall, with a high frequency for gigantism. They have black tongues and bleed green. They’re capable of holding their breath for up to 90 minutes underwater and diving to depths in excess of 150 feet. They may or may not be the reason xhrill evolved neurotoxins in their muscosal discharge. The xhrill may or may not be the reason marine ix’ai are now immune to most toxins.

Diet

Terrestrial ix'ai have high protein dietary requirements, and for those that still hunt for their dinner, they'll go for anything smaller and slower than them. Since taking to the stars, their diets often consist mostly of off-cuts and (surprisingly well-seasoned) protein pastes. Arboreals, on the other hand, have primarily fruit-based diets -- citrus, especially! Their high metabolisms require them to eat fairly often, so it isn't uncommon to see them carrying around fruit strips and xadoqe -- round, red citrus fruit that resembles a clementine -- in their pockets and bags. Marine ix'ai? Shit, they'll eat it if it's bigger than them, they have guns. If they can buy it, catch it, or kill it, it's liable to end up on the menu -- including sapients. Maybe stay out of grabbing range until you're acquainted. The overlap in their diets lies in their love of mollusks, crustaceans, and other shellfish. The shells are a great source of calcium for them, and sometimes they'll just eat shells -- when dining out, it's polite to offer the shells you can't eat (with the added benefit of having your shellfish peeled for you!)

Social Organization

This is where the three-species-acting-as-one comes in. The ix'ai have one of the strongest militaries in the galaxy and often contract out as private security and mercenaries. A not-so-insignificant amount of prisons are also run by ix'ai, and they tend to just. Take empty planets. And terraform them. And they're really good at it, too. Two of Totug's moons, Whaman and Khroerth are ix'ai dominated, with the third, Chapus, being leased to the uknuks. They like laying down roots and establishing territories. Their society is strictly disciplined and focused on collectivism. While an army needs soldiers for a commander to command, ix'ai schools focus on "breeding leaders, not followers", and many go on to captain freelance expeditions, establish corporations, and hold political offices. Hell, their parents would be proud if they end up a successful boss of a crime syndicate -- a queen of the underworld is still a queen, after all! On that note, families prioritize on instilling a "leadership mindset" early on, with fledglings running errands for their household on their own by six years of age, adolescents officially "out of the nest" and off to state school by 12, and by 18, they're sent to mandatory basic training and service for three years (after which, they're considered full citizens). This doesn't mean, however, that they cut contact with their parents -- quite the opposite, in fact; they're encouraged to report progress back to their parents often for morale, and holidays are massive multigenerational gatherings. After they've set out on their own, it's not uncommon for ix'ai to adopt companions and crewmates into their families. [cultural note: these foundlings are affectionately referred to as 'gazagaza' (orphans) by the adopter's blood family, regardless of whether or not said foundling is actually an orphan] A large part of basic training places emphasis on "morale maintenance," or establishing and maintaining positive morale as a tenet of good leadership. Positive morale leads to positive results, etc etc. When on leadership training rotation, whoever is in charge of the squad for the week is subjected to peer reviews and held ultimately responsible for incomplete or inadequate completion of squad duties, missed drills, flagging trust in leadership, and morale scores below 80%. However, this also means that if a trainee fails more than three peer reviews, their instructor is held responsible. As a low-context society, they can be very direct and prone to oversharing -- they say what they mean and mean what they say. Everything is deliberate. They value transparency over confidentiality; transparency benefits the group because everyone is on the same page. "But how do they manage to establish criminal organizations?" you ask. Easy! Loopholes. Everything's out in the open and Technically Legal. At the very least, there's nothing specifying something is illegal. Go ahead, search the office. They're the bane of every GEA inquisitor's existence.

[goldafterglow]

Desi flower fields babey 🤙🏾

(Is it my favourite place and reminds me heavily of cottagecore Din? The answer will definitely nit surprise you)

A/N: YES YES YES YES Cottagecore Din loves the meadows 🥺 you didn’t ask for this but here I’m sorry hfjdjsks

Pairing: Din Djarin x Ezra x Reader

Word Count: 735

Warnings: Daddy kink?, fluff, this is not nsfw actually

“Now what’s all this?”

Ezra speaks as though he is weary, but his smile is wide and his eyes are twinkling as he looks at Din. He stands at the doorway, shoulders broad and cheeks rosy with embarrassment. In his gloved hands are torn up flowers from the gardens, roots hanging and caked with Earth - he had never been known for his gentle touch, but rather his determination. A few daisies, a wilted buttercup, roses, lavender, and a few weeds he couldn’t distinguish fill his fist. Din doesn’t know much about bouquets, about flowers or colors, but he knows that Ezra loves the meadow. He knows Ezra loves him. And something about acts of service, something about combining the two, seemed poignant when he had decided to roam the meadows searching for his pockets of treasure to present.

“The flowers are in bloom,” Din mumbles, far too flushed to look him in the eyes. Ezra’s lip quirks up as he sets his book down - a loved copy of The Brothers Karamazov - to approach him with a gentle gaze. He always approaches Din like a baby beast, something that could be so ferocious and yet is too sweet, too small and loving to ever muster the darkness needed.

“Yes moonlight,” Ezra says with a nod. “The flowers have blossomed, as spring and her gang of lovers follied in and coaxed them so.”

Din’s bare fingers drip with nervous sweat, the heat of the flaring Sun turned to an antagonizing force. He glances down at the opened petals and he could swear he feels them being to wrap around his chest and close, squeeze and grip onto his will, tight like bent steel that he cannot escape. This vulnerability is not yet a task he has learned to brave on his own, something soft and easily bruised by a harsh switch of words, a rough press of fingertips.

Thick fingers cup his own.

The glimpse of a small black target fills his eyes, glowing on the surface of bronzed skin as a rough palm brushes against his warm knuckles. And suddenly there is no greater comfort than his thorough attention, loving and undivided as Ezra dips his head to catch Din’s dropped gaze.

“Won’t you tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty brain of yours, sweet boy?”

Ezra feels Din flex his fingers, swallow once.

Twice.

“They’re for you, Daddy.”

The hook of Ezra’s nose knocks into Din’s. There is a pause - not pregnant, not tensed or contemplating. Just a white space, like the dot of a star illuminating a night sky or the pause of the heart before it contracts once again. 

And then Ezra’s lips are so tender, press so sweetly to Din’s that he is reminded that there has never been anything to fear. Not even rejection. The way he glides against him is something so personal now, his body made to waltz with his own.

Ezra’s grip like that of daisy petals around a honeybee, he gently lifts the haphazard bouquet and closes his eyes to take a deep inhale. Wisps of the life in the meadows and sweet slivers of clementine breezes float into his lungs, fill and coat them in a warmth that nothing but you could ever parallel. Perhaps he will allow me to accompany him next time, so we can pick something for my starlight. He can already see the tears welling in your eyes looks down at Din on his knees, offering torn up daffodils to you like some soft sacrifice to an altar. But that would be an emotional shock for another time, when Ezra can brace his meek lover for your intense affections.

“Daddy loves them, princess,” Ezra coos against his mouth, his fingers reaching up to find his soft, scruffed cheek. “Daddy loves them.” Din’s brow furrows into itself, eyes wide when Ezra looks into them, and he cups his jaw so his sweet boy might burrow into him. He is not a stranger to Din’s venom laced vulnerability, intimacy a taboo that he’d never had to conquer alone. And he knows that the best thing he could ever do for him is encourage even the smallest waddles into his embrace.

“Thank you, moonlight,” Ezra whispers. “Don’t you know that you are my greatest gift?”

The gentle glimmer in Din’s upturned pout says plenty.

Perhaps one day, with the two of you, I will.

Tags:  @vanthcobbs @catfishingmorales @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @cryptkeepersoul @antmnwasp @teaofpeach @nopeforyou @frankiemorales @stanfordscrush @thatreclusewriter @thirstworldproblemss @buckstaposition @wickedfrsgrl @eternallyvenus @the-feckless-wonder @cocoatales @the-wishmonger @xjustmenobodyelse @thepjofanqueen @beskar-tano @vulpineblue @xjustmenobodyelse @wanderlustmags @mstgsmy @readsalot73 @xakilicious @thewayofthemandalorian @fangirlingss@oloreaa @starless-eyes-remain @sdrecsfics @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @mrpascals @wanderlust69 @djxrxn @filthybookworm

[chasing-givenchy]

tagged by @spindleprick (it feels SO STRANGE TARYN THAT YOU HAVE A NEW USERNAME)

name/nickname: kashmira

gender: f

star sign: aquarius (that’s all i know about it)

height: 5′2″

time: is an illusion

birthday: 26 january

favourite bands: guns n’ roses, nightwish, and that’s it i think i don’t listen to any other bands??? (musicians though: halsey, lana del rey, lorde, phildel)

song stuck in my head: clementine by halsey

last movie: price check (fully recommend if you like parker posey and unhinged nerdy female ambition)

last show: ugly betty and it’s ruining my heart

when did i create this blog: 2010 probably (all credit to @fakeplasticlily

what do i post: absolutely nothing original but i reblog my fandom hyperfixations and bad hot takes regularly

last thing googled: “armie hammer controversy” (and boy do i regret it)

other blogs: my writing blog @givenchywrites, which i am terrible at maintaining

do i get asks: almost never (i embrace my hermit lifestyle) but i very much appreciate the gossip girl anons of late

why i chose my url: i was on the spot and could only think of chasing harry winston by lauren weisberger which is about golddiggers and love

following: a lot of great people

followers: also a lot of great people, and some bots i was too lazy to remove

average hours of sleep: 7 (too little, I KNOW)

lucky number: a million bucks

instruments: the world’s smallest violin

what am i wearing: peach-coloured cropped hoodie, black shorts, socks with peaches on them, a mountain of lotion

dream job: i do not dream of labour (i didn’t change this one when i copy + pasted)

dream trip: the western europe revisit

favourite song: estranged by guns n’ roses

last book read: highfire by eoin colfer (DRAGON WHO LIVES IN THE BAYOU AND WEARS A FLASHDANCE SHIRT)

top three fictional universes i’d like to live in: the one where i’m rich, the one where i have one-percenter level of money, and the one where i have wealth beyond the dreams of avarice

tagging: @arunima, @avantegarda, @dracoj, @harmonyshall, @karadnvres, @stallison, @tarmairons, @zmlorenz and anyone who wants to do it

[clemyoung]

The blonde spent most of her life in complete disarray, her parents were unfit and her siblings were too rowdy for her likely, and this was one of the main sources of her problems. Growing up the youngest of six children was difficult, especially when you’re that last of the bundle left. Clem was her parents' last ditch to fix their broken home, and in the end it just left her more alone than the rest.The second most of her siblings hit 18, a few even before, just all up and left or moved in with each other. Not that the blonde could blame them. Clem spent most of her childhood doing pageants, and she was damn good at it too. The pageants were her parents doing, and more often than not the money she won was used for alcohol or unnecessary things, instead of things they actually needed. Most girls her age thought pageants were amazing, and fun, but to her they were torture. It was an excuse her parents used to gain money at the expense of their child, and on the days she wasn’t strutting across a stage to be judged, she was working, whether it was babysitting or delivering newspapers; anything to get her cash, anything to help her siblings. Clem was the golden star of the Holmes family, apart from the oldest of her siblings. She was the one who got good grades, never got in trouble and never dared to speak out against her parents. She fed her parents excessive need to seem perfect to their small town.

Recognizing the cards Clem was dealt early in life made high school a breeze. Pageants and cheerleading gave her a boost in popularity she never expected and once she hit highschool, she was hanging with the cooler kids. She used academics and clubs as ways to build a transcript and to beef her up for colleges.The blonde spent most of highschool with her brain focused on homework, and if homework wasn’t being done she was at practices or pageants. She took on a full plate, just so she’d be able to get out of her small minded town. The hard work paid off and not long after graduation, she was off to Seattle University on a full ride.

The distance was hard at first, but Clementine thrived in a healthier environment, she had a job and better friends, and even boyfriends and girlfriends that stuck around longer, all because she wasn’t around her family. Once the blonde graduated with her bachelors in Psychology, it was time to plan her next move. The goal was to stay in Seattle, get a job and start applying for grad schools, but her life could only remain drama free for so long. Her boyfriend of three years drained her account and left her with nothing, forcing her to move in with the closest sibling, which brought her to San Fran. Now she’s been working at a coffee shop, trying her best to stay afloat and officially pooled whatever she could from her siblings to rent the cheapest and smallest apartment known to man, and hopefully it’ll all work out.

[screentimeoverlord]

@hannah-the-small asked

Clem hovered outside of Vox's office, unsure if she should go in... so she knocked instead, "... Vox? Its me... you okay?"

With Clem being close to the door, when she got close enough it made it open up. Letting her see what has happened in the office across the walkway.

Sitting on the floor with his back against the chair, ruined screens and claw marks on both the chair and panel. Though he seemed unharmed. Looks a lot like he had a small meltdown while he isn't really responding.

[screentimeoverlord]

Once the kiss broke, he held his hand up to her cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. "Had a bit planned instead, but we got sort of sidetracked. Hell is what you expect I guess." At least there was a light comment from this.

New or not, it was perfect. Clem didn't need glittering jewels and shiny rocks even if she did like them. The fact Vox wanted her. Wanted her to spend the rest of their lives together. That was more than enough.

She accepted the kiss, closing her eyes as she leaned into him. Maybe not the proposal either were expecting... but it was still perfect to her.

[fromthewifecage]

Imagine Kombants sees Reader with bunches of cats

I LOVE kitties, all kitties, ALL of them. So do Erron Black, Johnny Cage, Nightwolf, Bi-Han and Kano. As usual Kano is last so if you don’t like him then you don’t have to read that one.(Yeah I kinda got over excited writing this and went a bit crazy. The Johnny Cage one is inspired by a scene in Red Dragon/Hannibal.)Hope this is ok, if not then feel free to throw a shoe at me.

Erron Black: (So this I actually took from a stupid Cowboy/Victorian Lady (called Clementine) thing I’ve been writing. It’ll never be finished because it needs to be probably 50k words or more, but this bit I liked writing. Erron’s trying to be a better man, got caught up trying to save a kids life, but the kid died, and Erron’s pretty cut up about it. Yes it’s not the reader with a bunch of cats, it’s about Erron with a cat, but the other Kombatant’s scenarios definitely the reader with kitties!! Please don’t hate me.)

Arms slid around his waist, her body pressed hard to his back and enveloped him in a much needed embrace. His head drooped forward, shoulders slumping, his head in his hands. He’d tried his best, hadn’t he? But it wasn’t good enough, never was. He was a God-damned failure.To his eternal shame his eyes prickled with the threat of tears. He hadn’t cried since Ma had screamed at him for crying over the body of a barn cat. The large ginger cat had been Erron’s only friend since he’d had first found the cat. He’d first seen it sat upon a dark brown saddle in the barn, the saddle’s leather gleaming from the earlier oiling. The cat paused between washing its ears to stare, and when Erron held out a hand it took a moment to sniff at his fingertips before going back to its wash.

Erron had named the cat Peter and they’d quickly become firm friends. Peter would chase after mice and spiders, batting at them with a large ginger paw until he got tired of the chase and quickly killed them. Erron would bring Peter scraps of meat and cheese filched from the larder as a reward. Erron would often find half a mouse in one of his boots, Peter obviously thinking Erron was too skinny and needed fattening up, and Peter was right, Ma was far too stingy with her portions. If Erron had been judged to ‘deserve sleeping outside’, usually after answering his Ma back or being caught filching from the larder, then Erron would climb the long rickety ladder to reach the hay loft, and spend the night with Peter on his chest, purring happily.

They’d been friends for 3 long summers until Erron had gone into the barn at the end of a particularly hot and long day helping in the fields. Ma found Erron sobbing over Peter’s stiff and lifeless body, and dragged him back into the house by his ear, beating him harshly for caring about “that ginger shit more than you care about the rest o’ us.” It was true, so Erron didn’t put up a fight as he took his hits. He merely filed away the hate with all the other times she’d beat him, hurt him, scorned him and neglected him, so when years later, he stood by Ma’s bed as she took her final breaths with cancer riddled lungs, he shed no tears.

Erron sat there, fighting with the sadness of not being able to save the child, until the small bedchamber was dark enough that he could barely see his own hands. Clementine still held him, had made no protest or whispered fake platitudes that he’d get over it or he’ll feel better soon. She’d let him take the time he needed.

More after the cut! (these ones really are about the reader with kitties, promise!)

Johnny Cage: Johnny is more excited than you are for your birthday. His grin has been extra sparkly for the entire past month, and each hint about what he’s got for you has been more ridiculous than the last. You keep trying to tell him you don’t want a fuss, and to not spend more than £20 on a present, but it’s like telling a child they have to eat their broccoli if they want ice cream for afters. He’s not going to eat the broccoli, he’s sneaking into the freezer as soon as your back is turned.

He wakes you up extra early, despite your protests that it’s your birthday and you want to sleep. In the end he picks you up and carried you into the shower, washes your hair and refuses to leave the bathroom until you brush your teeth. He doesn’t stop singing ‘Happy Birthday’ either. Even when you threaten to leave him he doesn’t stop being annoyingly amazingly cute.

He blindfolds you in the car (the driver starts to get worried that you’ll ruin the seat leather but Johnny calms them down with promises there’ll be no sex in the car) and does his best to confuse you with increasingly remote landmark spotting. Quite how you’ve gone from home to the Louvre, past the Pyramids via the Lin Kuei Temple, you have no idea. Eventually he leads you from the car, your hand tightly in his grasp and a hand on your shoulder so you don’t stumble.

As you walk to your secret destination you hear all sorts of animal and bird sounds, chirruping, squeaking (including a couple of gasps from some humans along with “OMG it’s Johnny Caaaaaaaaaaage” whispered under their breaths), some growling, even trumpeting.“Surprise!” Johnny stage whispers as he unties your blindfold, leaving you blinking in the dim light.

Before you is a scene from one of your very best daydreams. A room full of lion cubs, each one rolling, biting, investigating, chewing or playing with it’s brothers and sisters. A hand clasps over your mouth when your heart bursts with joy, Johnny chuckling and letting you know that the kitties are so little that they’ll be scared by squeals of happiness. The zookeepers are more than happy to let you play with the cubs, showing you how to feed the furballs, how to hold them and cuddle them.

You spend the rest of your birthday in lion cub heaven. Johnny takes so many photos of you surrounded by the kitties that his photo groans, and of course you take a bunch of him with the cubs too, he’s just as excited by the balls of fluff and teeth as you are and he almost cries when it’s time to go home.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

Nightwolf: The man is an expert on nature in all its forms. He can live self sufficiently from a small plot of land, he built his own home and keeps not only real animals happy, but spirit animals too. An ideal day for him would be to tend to his crops and land during the day and spend the evening surrounded by his animal and human companions.You’ve spent significant time with Nightwolf, and he’s grown not only to love you, but trust you to share his life and loves. Hana took a while to warm up to you, but will now sit on your shoulder almost as happily as she will with Nightwolf (it took many batches of mini pancakes for her to get to this stage, and now she demands you make her some food whenever you cook).

Nightwolf is in the kitchen when he realises you’ve run out of salad ingredients. The evening air is warm and sweet, the frogs by the small creek are noisily calling for mates, and the idea of a short walk to the vegetable plot to stretch your legs before dinner sounds appealing. Hana follows you out the door, first taking to the sky and circling the house, then drops down to land upon your shoulder, tugging at strands of your hair in her own way of looking after you. As you gather some lettuce Hana squawks and flaps her wings, then flies over to a patch at the very end of the plot, squawking some more. You call out to her, maybe one of the frogs has got lost?

But it’s not a frog you find, it’s even cuter than that. It’s a tired stripy cat with large ears, surrounded by the smallest of kittens, each one latched to a teat. You gasp excitedly and whisper to Hana to go fetch Nightwolf. Hana gives one final indignant squawk, then flies off, returning on the shoulder of the beautiful man you love.

“Welcome back Koko, it is an honour to meet your children.”

Nightwolf greets the cat as a friend, and your heart melts a little more for this wonderful man. He asks you to stay with the kitty family whilst he returns to the house to fetch some things. Koko watches you with sleepy eyes, trusting that since Nightwolf trusts you, you aren’t a threat. You don’t reach for the kittens, they are far too tiny to play with, but you make a wish upon the stars that you’ll get to play with them when they’re a little older.

Nightwolf returns carrying one of the chicken coops he’d been mending and with blankets in a backpack. He sets up a little home for the cats in the dark corner of the vegetable plot. You’ll be able to visit the kittens whenever you like (with Koko’s permission of course).

Yay for kittens!

Bi-Han: The man might be a deadly (the Lin Kuei are NOT ninjas) ninja assassin, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a heart. As a trained spy he has to take notice of everything, no matter how innocuous it seems, so he knows more about you than you know about yourself. So he knows that you’re getting a little lonely in his absences, and recently, he’s been absent a lot more due to an influx of contracts.

You’ve tried so hard not to show your loneliness, thinking it would upset Bi-Han and make him consider breaking off your relationship to try to save you from more pain, and that has crossed his mind. Then he looked upon his life and decided that he didn’t need anything but you, and that no matter how often you were apart, it was the together that mattered.

It was early morning, the blood of his latest target swirling down the sink as he scrubbed himself clean, when his phone blinked with a new message from you. His smile curling the corner of his mouth when he sees that you’ve sent yet another cat picture, this one of 2 kittens wearing ninja outfits with the caption “You and Kuai!” Bi-Han is about to flick back up through the conversation to where you’ve sent some pictures of yourself rather than kittens, when his smile widens as an idea pings into his head.

You’re woken by a cold gentle kiss to your forehead, a brush of icy fingers across your cheek when you stir then wake with a happy yawn.

“You’re home!”

You sprint to the bathroom to first wee then brush your teeth, sprinting back to jump into Bi-Han’s fierce embrace. When he doesn’t immediately tug off your pyjamas you’re puzzled, the man is normally insatiable. He laughs at your pout and tugs you into the living room where he nods towards a box resting on the table.

“Happy Tuesday!”

His grin is huge when you squeak upon looking inside the box to find two kittens curled around each other. It widens even further watching you cry with happiness when the kittens wake to first sniff you, then immediately demand attention. He pulls out his phone and takes some pictures, seeing you this excited has to be recorded.

Yay for kittens!

Kano: The big burly scary Australian beefcake actually has a soft spot. You.

You’ve heard the stories, the ones about him scaring someone so much they wet themselves and when Kano laughed at their fear they burst into tears. About the time he had someone skinned alive and thrown onto the street. Kano could be a Bond villain, he already has the one-eye thing down, he had the comfiest squidgiest chair for his desk (it swivelled so Kano could spin around when he got bored), all he needed was a cat for him to stroke when watching a Special Forces member wet themselves.

You’d gone to the animal shelter to pick up a cat for him (he’d laughed at your idea then shrugged.

“I already got my kitten, but if you want a kitty, I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

Then he’d pulled you into his arms and kissed you until you forgot how to breathe.)

At first you were going to adopt the fluffy white cat with the huge blue eyes, she was gorgeous, but it was when you were walking to the corner of the room to discreetly take a phone call when you saw the 2 kitties that had been forgotten by everybody. They sat by their small window, peering out into the world they’d never get to experience again. One of the kitties had lost a leg, the veterinary nurse later telling you she’d been attacked by an enormous dog and had carried on fighting even when she’d lost the leg. The other had only 1 eye, again, having lost it in a fight. Your heart went out to these sweet brave kitties, and you knew you could give them the best home.

“What you got there, love?”

Kano stood in the doorway, bare chested as usual, huge 'sexy-as-hell' grin as usual.

“I couldn’t leave them, no-one wanted them and they’re all little.”

Kano looked from you down to the kitties exploring every nook and cranny of the bedroom, tails twitching secret messages to each other as they couldn’t believe that they were finally out of the shelter. He chuckled then strolled over to you to wrap you up in a huge embrace.

“Think that one wants a cyber eye?”

[radi0activesmile]

@the-smallest-star

At the tightening in Shi's jaw, Alastor merely offers a respectful nod. Shi was the picture of professionalism, but he was still a creature with a soul; he had his limits, and Alastor was grateful that his limit was Gritt's well-being.

"Perhaps something made from peanut butter? One can sustain themself for quite some time on a tablespoon of peanut butter." It kept many a person alive during The Great Depression: It contained protein and fat that made the body feel full.

"I've several different peanut butter noodle recipes that don't require any meat." Meat, on the other hand, was quite difficult to get during the 30s.

Though Alastor's expression seems to gentle at the mention of Clementine helping Gritt, one might notice that one of Alastor's fists was clenched so tightly that his claws had punctured into his palms-- albeit... the blood didn't hit the floor. As soon as the droplets dripped from his skin... they vanished.

Helplessness was not a feeling he handled well-- and when it came to Gritt-- and especially when it came to h̷̛̯̙̀͗̌̐͌͑̿̂́͘͘ị̷̢̼̝̼͇̬̉̔̽̔̽̆͆̈̚̕m̴̝̩̳̣͙̣̀̍̎̔͒̾͐̽̕̚͘͝, that feeling surfaced frequently.

"There's also plenty of sweeter dishes that can be made if we need to be more tempting~"

[mcg777]

| Count My Freckles |

TWDG Drabble Challenge

Day 05: “Nightmare” 

Pairing: Clementine x Louis

Word Count: 1595

Description: Clementine wakes up from a horrible nightmare and Louis makes it his mission to make her feel better. His plan is adorably odd.

Notes: This originally wasn’t for the TWDG drabble challenge (I started writing it way before knowing about it), but I thought I might as well participate! ^-^

Thanks to @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale for creating this challenge!        

Read on AO3

     ————————————————————————————————-

           Blood. All she could see was blood. It followed her around like a shadow, leaving a trail of wet footprints as she roamed the depths of her darkest memories.

           “Hey,” he whispered, “it’s okay.”

           Clementine ran her fingers through her temple, wishing it would be enough to soothe the ringing in her ears… but it wasn’t. Each time her heart pulsed it felt like a stab to the chest, a feeling that worsened the dizziness in her head.

           Just breathe, she told herself, you’ve been through this before.

           Louis rubbed her back, watching in silence as she did her best to calm herself down. He hated to see her like this. The nightmares had started to become more frequent in the last two weeks, and it seemed that no matter how much he tried, nothing he did or said had any effect on her. Of course, he could tell she was thankful. Every time, she’d squeeze his hand or give him a small smile; but the look in her eyes always returned to the same tiredness and dread.

           He rested his head against her forehead and stared into the night sky, barely visible due to the window’s wooden boards. He watched quietly as the stars sparkled through the dark, creating striking patterns that spread like small blotches of paint in a black canvas. Louis took in the beauty of the constellations. Only those who’d attempt to connect the dots would be met with such a magnificent sight…

           Then, it hit him.

           In a blink of an eye, he crawled on the bed and sat in front of Clementine, crossing his legs.

           “Count my freckles.”

           “What?”

           “My freckles,” he said, taking her hands in his and gently pulling her toward him, “count them.”

           Clementine stared at him in awe, her voice muffled by an invisible cloth of perplexity. The gap between them was now almost non-existent, with her arms resting around his neck and his hands on her back.

           “… and just how am I supposed to do that?”

           He smiled at her. “It’s easy! Just start on one side and once you’re done, move on to the other.”

           The cogs that worked in her brain failed to keep up with the reckless thumping of her burning chest.

           “What made you think of that?”

           “Don’t worry about it. Just trust me, okay?”

           She pursed her lips, inspecting his face. A sea of freckles adorned his cheeks and nose, going all the way up to his forehead. Attempting to count them would be the equivalent of madness; but when her eyes fell upon his again, so loving and inviting, she had no choice but to go along with the odd task he’d given her.

           Clementine breathed in slowly, an attempt to cool her tense body.

           “Alright, I’ll try.”

           Louis tilted his head, “Yeah?”

           She gave him a ghost of a smile, “Yeah.”

           He stared at her fondly, observing how the moonlight that spilled inside the room enveloped her in its delicate glow. Holding her close, he leaned in for a tender kiss.

           “Okay,” he murmured, pulling away just enough for his nose to brush hers. “Whenever you’re ready.”

           Clementine prepared herself to embark on the impossible quest that was counting the boy’s freckles. A spirited debate on how to best approach the situation began to run on her mind, yet none of the options voiced seemed efficient enough for the job. Noticing her struggle, Louis pressed his lips against hers again in an act of encouragement.

           “You got this.”

            She listened to his words. Saying she was putting too much thought into it would be an understatement. Perhaps going with the flow wasn’t such a bad idea.

           So, she did just that.

           Her eyes studied the left side of his face, stopping at the smallest dot.  

           One, two… she counted, taking a closer look at his cheek. Five more over here, six smaller ones over there – no, seven…  

           Just as she was processing that information, Louis planted a quick kiss on her lips.      

           “Louis.”

           “What?” he asked, failing miserably to hide the grin on his face.

           “You keep kissing me.”

           “Oh, didn’t I mention?” he said, raising a brow, “I’ve decided that every five seconds or so, I’ll kiss you.”

           She shook her head, “You know I won’t be able to keep track of your freckles if you do that.”

           “Well, that’s what makes it a challenge!”

           Clementine sighed. At that point, it might as well have been better to make up a random number and go with it.

           “Okay, then. How about…” she whispered, the corners of her mouth lifting into a small smile, “nine hundred and fourteen?”

           The way his laughter ignited the room caused her heart to flutter.

           “As much as I’d love to have as many freckles as the number of floors in our magnificent purple house,” he said, pulling her in for another kiss, “no, I don’t think so. Try again.”

           Just when she was about to speak, he intervened once more.

           “Oh, and before you ask,” he shifted on the bed, “yes, I do know how many freckles I have on my face.”

           That statement alone made her burst into a fit of giggles. He couldn’t possibly be serious.

           “Yeah, I’m not even gonna pretend I believe that.”

           “Hey, it’s true!”

           “You counted them?”

           He paused for a moment, his memories taking him back to much simpler times.

           “Yup, used to do it a lot back when I was younger. Every day, I’d wake up and run to the mirror to check if there were any new ones,” he said, a subtle pout then forming on his lips, “Didn’t see many changes, though.”

           The image of a little Louis standing in front of a mirror, squinting his eyes at his own reflection in search of new members for his freckle collection was incredibly adorable to Clementine. She pictured the shine in his eyes and the smile that’d surface on his face on the rare occasions he’d find another one, his inner joy projecting itself onto the outside world with each one of his victory dances.

           She was brought back to reality when she felt him brush a strand of hair away from her face.

           “That means no cheating.” he told her.

           “Alright, alright…”

           A new strategy was very well needed.

           Her eyes alone wouldn’t do the task justice, that was certain; not when it was so easy for her to lose herself in that captivating labyrinth of his. Clementine tugged on her bottom lip. Perhaps she could find another tool…    

           Her hand left his shoulder and slid up his cheek, its softness welcoming her fingers to carefully trace the constellations he wore so beautifully on his skin. She used her thumb to mark his freckles, gently brushing it along each one she came across. A rosy tint soon began to spread on his face as he kissed her yet again. Clementine smiled against his lips, ignoring the strong urge to keep them bound to her own. Instead, she let her fingertips guide the way once more, her focused gaze preventing her from losing track of anything.

           Her finger then reached his nose, carefully running it along the bridge all the way down to the tip. Louis flinched slightly, unable to suppress a laugh when she repeated the process again.

           “I didn’t know you were the ticklish type.” she teased.

           “I’m not.”

           Clementine raised a brow. Shortly after, she was drawing small circles on top of his nose, smiling when she got the exact same reaction from him.

           “You were saying?”

           “Okay, okay,” he laughed, brushing her hand away, “maybe a little.”

           A sense of calm submerged her body as she watched him with a tenderness only he could match. To think that a while earlier her heart had fallen victim to her mind’s haunting echoes of the past…

           She repelled those thoughts away.

           At last, her eyes scanned his forehead. It was slightly less busy than the rest of his face, which made the tiny specks far less challenging to count. Applying the same method, she found herself jumping from freckle to freckle in between kisses until there was none left.

           Just as Louis leaned in once more, Clementine placed a finger on top of his lips.

           “Eighty-four.”

           He stared at her, wide-eyed.

           “Oh, I-…” he breathed, “I didn’t expect you to actually count.”

           She let out a quiet laugh, watching as he rubbed the back of his neck.

           “So, did I get it right?’

           “Close,” he said, smiling softly, “it’s eighty-seven.”

           Damn.

           His hand trailed down her arm, stopping to enlace their fingers together.

           “It was a good effort, though.”

           She silently agreed.

           With that, Louis left his previous position to sit properly on the bed. Once again, he looked up at the peaceful night sky, admiring the stars that glowed in its dark blue tint. He hoped that she’d found the cluster of freckles on his face just as soothing as the constellations that glimmered above.

           “Hey, Louis?”

           The melody of her quiet voice made him turn to her. Her gaze was low, resting upon her lap, as if she was deep in thought. He waited patiently for her to continue, but nothing came. He held his breath as he yearned for a reaction – anything that’d tell him that it had worked, that it had been worth it… that she was okay.

           He didn’t have to wait long.

           The shine on Clementine’s eyes when she finally glanced up at him made him push all his fears away.

           “Thank you.”