#they break down into firewood on and off for well over an hour

[farouchestray]

/

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I would love to read more about the dynamic between poly!marauders and reader. Like maybe some domestic fluff just showing the interaction between the boys and with reader. I love the way you write true poly with the boys together too 🥹🤍

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Shit!” Sirius hisses, another piece of popcorn splintering off his string. It’s nearly all cranberries at this point, and half the length of either yours or Remus’. “How are yours not breaking?”

“Patience,” Remus preaches, eyes on his needle as he slides it smoothly through yet another popcorn kernel. 

“Sounds made up,” James scoffs. The remains of his own popcorn are littered about his lap and his fingers are stained pink with cranberry juice. His problems lie in inaccuracy as much as impatience, constantly getting ahead of himself and pricking his fingers rather than his target. Fortunately, Rugby Captain James Potter is no stranger to pain, so he only extends the injured finger towards where you sit on the floor for you to kiss each time before resuming his work. 

“Completely agree.” Sirius is quick to hop on James’ half-constructed bandwagon. “They’re conspiring against us, keeping the real secrets of success to themselves.” 

“They’re focussing on their work,” you say, grinning when Sirius’ foot nudges your shoulder meanly, “which is how they keep from messing up.” 

“Cruel,” he murmurs, but you only hum, a wordless You know I’m right. And he does, because he goes quiet. 

James could never stand silence. “It’s almost cold enough for a fire,” he remarks after nearly five seconds of it. “Maybe we could have one tomorrow?” 

“You just want to chop firewood,” Remus accuses. 

“I don’t mind,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands, and Sirius nods emphatically. Another piece of popcorn shatters in his hands, bits of it hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t deter him.” 

“I don’t even get to chop it anymore since you started buying it at Tesco,” James complains, shooting Remus a resentful look. “Now I just want to watch fire. It’s the last caveman’s pleasure you’ve left me.” 

You glance over, and Remus is looking downward, trying and failing to quell his smile. “Fine,” he relents. “We can pick some up tomorrow and have a fire.”

“Yes!” James leans around Sirius, planting a smacking kiss on Remus’ cheek. “Thank you.” 

“S’no problem.” Remus has gone all soft and blushy. You and Sirius exchange a fond, knowing look. 

“Hey, do you think we could pick up some of those gingerbread house kits while we’re there?” you ask the room. “We didn’t get a chance to do those last year.” 

“Patience,” Remus reminds you, recovering. “It’s hardly the end of November, we’ve got a whole month for that.” 

Your mouth pulls dissatisfiedly. “Yeah, but last year we thought the same thing and then we ran out of time.” 

“You know what we should do?” James perks up. “Have a competition! Whoever makes the best gingerbread house in under an hour gets—”

“No,” you all say on top of each other. 

You shake your head. “It’ll take all the fun out of it, Jamie.”

“You can’t put a time limit on creativity,” Sirius agrees. “Hey, I got three in a row!” He beams, holding his garland up for Remus’ approval, and the other boy appraises it for a second, nodding sagely. 

“Well done.” 

“Sorry,” you tell James, who’s still pouting after the hasty shut-down of his idea. “We can race at something else if you want to, but that sort of stuff is supposed to be more…”

“Peaceful,” Remus supplies, and you nod relievedly. 

“Exactly.” 

“S’fine,” James sulks. He sticks his needle through a cranberry, a pitiful whine escaping him when it comes out the other side harsher than he’d expected. He extends his hand toward you palm up, and you take it, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his finger. “Mm, now here.” He leans down, tapping the corner of his mouth. You smile, pecking him sweetly on the lips. He tastes like the peppermint chapstick he uses this time of year, which you love and Sirius abhors (he thinks all mint tastes like toothpaste). “Alright,” James says, lips curving against yours, “now it’s actually fine.” 

“Scoundrel,” Sirius accuses. “My poor darling, do you feel used?” 

“Not terribly,” you admit, but it’s no deterrence to Sirius, who reaches down to haul you into his lap. Your garland trails after you, overlapping with his. You settle in contentedly. 

“Who’s the scoundrel now,” James objects. “You can’t just move her about like she’s got no will of her own.” 

You’re perfectly happy to be wherever they want you, but you aren’t going to say that. “Does anyone fancy a hot chocolate? I just got those peppermint marshmallows.” 

Sirius makes a face. “No thanks. James, make the girl a hot chocolate.” 

“Why me?” James objects. 

“I’ll have one too,” Remus says. 

“It’s her idea, why doesn’t she make them?”

“Because she,” Sirius says, weaving his arms under yours to resume stringing up his garland in front of you, “is occupied. Go on.” 

James grumbles, but sets down his work. 

“Sorry,” you say, making your eyes extra big. It’s half sincere apology, half completely unapologetic beguilement, and James cracks quickly, kissing your cheek to show he’s not really upset. Then he kisses Sirius too, just for fun. 

“I wanted a hot chocolate anyway,” he says, heading into the kitchen. 

You fall into an easy silence as he works, the kettle gurgling in the background while you relax against Sirius’ chest, nearly finished with your garland. You wonder if you should offer to do his for him, even though you know the other two will definitely make fun of you for letting him off the hook. You think you will anyway. 

“Oh!” Sirius straightens, causing you to shift against him uncomfortably. He ignores the slighted look you send him, bringing a hand to your shoulder to hold you more securely against him. You’re easily pacified. “If you want to have a competition, you and y/n should have a race for who can wrap the most presents.” He looks at you. “You’re always saying you love wrapping, yeah sweetheart?” 

The endearment only slightly softens the look you’re giving him. Must everyone try to ruin your holiday rituals with racing and competitions? You know he’s only brought it up out of selfishness, too; Sirius hates wrapping gifts, and this is just another way for him to push the labor off on James and you. 

James, unfortunately, lights brighter than the tree you’d set up earlier that day. “Yeah!” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. Remus eyes the boiling water he’s pouring out at the same time warily. “What do you say, lovie? Maybe a couple of days before Christmas we can divvy up the presents that aren’t for us, then we just see who finishes first!” 

“Didn’t you already lose that competition the other night?” Remus quips. Sirius erupts in laughter behind you, but James only shoots him a hostile look (or his version of a hostile look, more of a squint than anything) before his eyes flit back to you hopefully. 

You roll your eyes, but this is one competition you think you might actually win. “Fine,” you say, smiling when he pumps his fist. “But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, Potter. My gift wrapping skills are legendary.” 

“Oh, my love,” James croons, grinning as he carries in two mugs of hot chocolate. “My sweet, naive girl.” He passes one to Remus and the other to you, dropping a kiss on your temple. “I won’t go easy on you this time.”

[blues824]

WAIT since its Sebek month rn, I'm requesting smth for Sebek as well‼️ its prompt #8 and #26~ 💚✨ (26 lowkey perfect for him bcs he cant handle the cold lol same sebek- ajdjs)

I love this man with my whole heart, and then some.

You requested: Snowball Fight + Cuddling Next to the Fire

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek did not know how to have fun, and you were convinced of that.

He took no breaks when it came to being a knight or when it came to his school work. Even his extracurriculars were not something he took lightly, which made it really frustrating whenever you wanted to spend quality time with the one you loved.

Your relationship wasn’t doing super well… to say the least. This was his first relationship, so you gave him some leeway, but it eventually had to come to an end. It felt like you were romantically involved with a brick wall.

Because you didn’t want to end the relationship, you went straight to Lilia for advice, and he immediately said that Sebek would have the weekend off. Malleus walked in and heard everything, and he agreed with the bat fae, and he would even make it an official order for him to go with you for the remainder of the day. Well, it was a foolproof plan, and it worked.

Now, you both can be seen trudging through the snow as Sebek is yelling about how you had the audacity to go to the great Waka-sama just to get to hang out with him. If you heard one more word about Malleus when you two were supposed to be on a date, you swear you were gonna end everything.

So, you stooped down, gathered some snow in your hands, patted it into a ball, and immediately chucked it at the half-fae’s head. He turned with the most angry look on his face, but you were too busy laughing to see it.

Oh, so that’s how you wanna play?

With a smirk taking the place of the anger, he, too, stooped down, gathered snow in his hands, formed it into a ball, and threw it at you, hitting you right in the face. Your laughing, obviously, ceased, and a battle had begun.

For a whole hour, you both were throwing snowballs at each other, laughing at the other's misfortune the whole time. However, you both knew it was time to go inside when you let out a sneeze as well as a few coughs.

~~~~~~~~

Sebek grabbed the firewood that you had stocked up and started to build a fire in your fireplace. He was shivering as well as you, and you remembered that he typically liked warmer and more humid climates. Once the fire got going, he brought you one of your many blankets so that you might try and warm up.

However, as his arm extended to give you the blanket, you grabbed it and pulled him down beside you. It took him by surprise, but when he noticed the close proximity, he immediately froze up.

“H-Human, what do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“I don’t believe it would be very fair if I were to be warm and you were to remain cold,” You answered, making sure that he got some of the blanket as well.

Upon seeing that he was still shivering, however, you decided to just lay on him. You put your hands on his shoulders to push him back into the couch, and you just plopped yourself right on top of him, bringing the blanket over you two.

“Y/N THIS IS ENTIRELY INAPPRO-” You covered his mouth, starting to get sleepy, and with how flustered he was getting, his body temperature was rising to a comfortable level. In a few moments, you were asleep.

The dedicated knight had no idea what to do in this situation… This was never a part of his training, so he just laid there like a plank until he eventually fell asleep as well.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Temptation Chapter 4

Summary: Father Barnes is devout, steadfast, and undeterred by flirtatious congregants.  So why does this fallen angel tempt him so?  You cannot serve two masters.  Will he choose God, or his heart? Priest!Bucky x curvy!reader Warnings: eventual smut; religion (yes it's a warning); mentions of past sexual assault

Bucky had not seen or heard from Y/N since that confessional night.  He didn’t expect to, but it made him more anxious the longer he didn’t.  Would she actually come try to talk to him?  What would he say?  What would he do?  Why would he suggest that?

”Father Barnes,” Father Richards called out as Bucky was in the courtyard garden reading.

”Yes?” 

“We have a meeting set up with Miss Y/L/N and her estate lawyer tonight at 8 pm”. Bucky’s breath hitched.  “She wants to do the reading of the will here.  Hopefully Constance was quite generous to us,” he said.

”Yes, hopefully,” Bucky smiled politely.  

That night could not have come sooner.  By 7:55 Bucky was positively buzzing.  He heard the tapping of heels in the hallway and immediately stood, Father Richards following his lead.  A man walked in ahead of Y/N in a fancy suit, looking very self-important.  Y/N was looking at the floor as she walked in.  Bucky had to restrain himself from making a noise as he ogled her.  She was wearing black again, this time a low cut, lacy black shift dress that stopped mid thigh.  She had an oversized black suit jacket over it, her bare legs ending with black strappy heels on her feet.  Her pink hair was still pulled up in a scarf like the day he met her, showing off her neck and the gold chain and earrings she wore.  That damn blood red lipstick was on her lips again.  She looked like sin, and he secretly loved it.

”Welcome,” Father Richards greeted them.  “Please sit.”

The lawyer sat and before Y/N could take the other chair she stared at the desk.  “Is this a new desk?”

”Yes,” Bucky piped up, looking at her earnestly.  “The other was faulty, so I got rid of it.”

”Got rid of it?  He took the fire alarm ax to it and hacked it, saying we needed firewood!” Father Richards laughed.  The lawyer chuckled at the absurdity, but Y/N stared at Bucky.  He gave her a slight nod.  She blinked, gave him a dazed nod back and sat down.

”Well, let’s get on with it,” the lawyer started.  “Here is the last will and testament…” he droned on in legal jargon that was all gibberish to Y/N and Bucky.  They kept glancing at each other, a silent conversation seeming to happen between them.  After almost an hour, since Constance had a lot of money to spread out, he said, “Ah, here it is, after all the other charitable donations.  ‘Lastly, I leave a charitable donation of’…” he seemed to double check the number, “‘$2,000,000 to the Brooklyn parish of the New York City Catholic Church’.”  Y/N huffed a laugh, her eyes rolling.  “‘The rest of my estate, the home, the assets, and the sum of $8,887,124.36, will go to my granddaughter, Y/N Y/L/N’.  And that’s it.  Congratulations to all of you,” the lawyer stood, giving the priests and Y/N handshakes.  “Your checks will be sent to you by tomorrow morning, all other assets and the home should be in your name already, Miss Y/L/N.”

”Thank you,” Y/N gave him a nod.

”Let me show you out,” Father Richards led the lawyer out of the office, leaving Y/N and Bucky alone.  Y/N looked everywhere other than at Bucky, contemplating what she had been left with.

”Congratulations,” Bucky said, trying to break the silence.  

“The same to you,” she whispered, sparing him a glance.

”Yes, the parish will get some much needed updates with that amount.  Maybe throw some fun parties,” he tried to keep the conversation going.  Y/N just nodded.  She finally took a deep breath and looked at him.

”Could we talk?” She asked.

”Sure,” Bucky answered a little too quickly.

”Alone?” Y/N pressed.

”Yes,” Bucky said.  “We can go to the back somewhere.”

”Lead the way—“

“Miss Y/L/N, what a great blessing from Constance,” Father Richards returned, making them both jump.  “Thank you for working with us.  I know you’re not fond of us but I hope you won’t be a stranger.”

“Oh, sure, thank you Father,” Y/N gave him a quick handshake and an odd look.

“I’ll uh, show you out,” Bucky offered.

Bucky led her to the front doors.  As she stepped out he said in a low voice, “Come around the back towards the garden.  I can let you in from there.”  Y/N nodded and walked off to the left towards the back.  Bucky walked briskly through the halls towards the back of the church, past the kitchens and the nuns quarters.  Thankfully it was late enough that people weren’t milling about and he was able to get back to his personal area without being seen.  This was dangerous.  He could feel it in his bones.  And yet he kept walking.  He reached the door that connected the garden to the church and wrenched it open for her.  Y/N was already there and thanked him as she stepped in.  He led her down the last corridor that led to his room.  

She realized when she stepped in it was his personal room.  It was small, with a full sized bed, a small desk in one corner and a closet and bathroom on the opposite side.  He also had a bookshelf that was filled with books, some she recognized as books she had recommended to him, which made her smile wistfully.  Y/N could also feel the danger of this situation, but felt it was important to get it done here and now.

”You can have a seat on the bed if you’d like,” Bucky offered.  

”Thank you,” Y/N said quietly, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.  Her dress rode up a bit on her thighs, making Bucky blush and look away, feeling flustered at the fact she was here, on his bed.

”So, uh, what did you wanna talk about?” Bucky pulled the chair at the desk out and sat it in front of her so he could face her.  He kept it a couple of feet away as he sat down.

Y/N breathed deeply.  Bucky tried hard to focus on her face rather than her lace covered cleavage rising as she breathed.  “I need to tell you something.”

Bucky nodded.  This was the moment.  He still had no plan, no idea, for what he would say or do in response.

Y/N blew out a puff of air and laughed at herself then closed her eyes.  “I like you Bucky.”

“I like you, too,” he answered automatically.

“No, I…I really like you,” Y/N opened her eyes.  “In a way that I shouldn’t.”  She shifted on his bed as she looked down again.  “I want…to do things with you that you can’t do.  And because of that, I have to leave.”

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed.  

“I’m leaving,” Y/N glanced at him.  “I’m going to renovate and keep the brownstone as a home base, but I’m going back out to do more travel photography.  I just can’t…” she paused as she looked at him.  “I can’t stay and keep running into you everywhere.  Have these coffee dates that aren’t dates.  Constantly crave something that I can’t have because you won’t choose me, and I don’t want to make you choose!” she rushed out the last part.  “You’ve been a great friend to me, and I have enjoyed these last few months I’ve been here, but I can’t do this anymore.”

She made a move like she was going to lift herself off the bed.  Bucky immediately reacted, moving from off the chair to a kneeling position in front of her, making her legs spread to accommodate him and a gasp fall from her lips. His hands cupped her cheeks like they did a few weeks back and held her there, staring into her eyes.

“Don’t,” he begged.  “Don’t leave…”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open as she watched him.  She loved the sight of him kneeling and begging before her, something she didn’t know she would be interested in but it was lighting that forbidden fire deep within her.  His big blue eyes were pleading with her.  Her face twisted into a look like she was in pain.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered, her eyes looking sad as her head tilted, nuzzling into one of his hands.  

Bucky wasn’t sure who leaned in first.  It didn’t matter.  Next thing either of them knew their lips met.  Bucky had not kissed anyone since he was a teenager, so he had forgotten the euphoric feeling, and now that he got a taste of his forbidden fruit he was insatiable.  Her lips were soft as they moved against his with desperation.  Bucky didn’t know what he was doing and followed his instincts, his hands slipping to the back of her neck to hold her close, then slipping down her back to bring her body flush with his.  Y/N’s arms wound around his neck and he felt like he was melting into her embrace.  Her fingers ran through his hair and as she scratched softly down his scalp he whimpered against her mouth.  Her legs caged his hips against his bed as her hands explored, cupping his jaw and then moving her lips away from his mouth to start kissing his cheek, then down to his neck, one hand holding his neck in place and the other ripping at his Roman collar, popping a button for her lips to gain more access to his throat, then scratching down his chest.  Bucky’s head fell back, his eyes rolling in his head as his hands found her hips then ran down her bare thighs, kneading the plushy skin.  

Bucky’s eyes landed on a cross that was hung on the opposite wall in his room that he had draped Constance’s rosary on.  He had a flash of guilt surge through him that was quickly replaced with pleasure when she sucked on his neck.  He felt like this was a whole new type of worship.  The popular song he’d heard from a few years back flashed through his mind:  “Take me to church.”  The devilish, carnal side of him knew in that moment that he would abandon the cross, abandon his promises and covenants, if it meant that his church was this: this woman, this pleasure, this sweet release.

Y/N’s lips traveled back up to his mouth.  He kissed her hungrily as she opened her mouth and her tongue licked along his bottom lip.  He opened his mouth and she dipped her tongue in, tasting him.  She let out a moan and Bucky chased the sound with his tongue.  He suddenly lifted himself up and pushed Y/N to the bed on her back, one of his knees settling between her legs right at her core, making her shiver in his arms.  He took his turn in kissing and licking down her throat until he reached her chest, burying his face into her cleavage as he smelled and kissed her.  He wanted to suffocate in her.

Y/N’s hips rocked against his knee, searching for the friction she desired.  As her head tilted back her eyes fell on the cross and rosary on his wall and she stiffened.  Bucky froze when he felt her tense up.  He looked up at her and followed her eye line to the cross.

“Stop,” she said, pushing him back by his shoulders.  Bucky immediately got up but stayed close.

“Y/N,” he started.

“This was a mistake,” Y/N muttered as she adjusted her clothes and stood up from the bed.  She grabbed her bag and started walking towards the door.

“No, Y/N wait, please!” Bucky grabbed her arm.  She wrenched it out of his hold.

“NO!  No Bucky.  This is wrong.  I’m sorry,” she paused, stifling a sob behind her hand.  “I’m sorry I tempted you.”

“What?  Y/N you didn’t tempt me.  I’m a grown man who can make my own choices, and I chose to be here, alone, with you, because I wanted to.  You didn’t make me do anything,” Bucky stood in front of her.  “I wanted that.  I want this,” he gestured between the two of them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Y/N cried.

“How could it not matter?” Bucky asked incredulously.

“Because you can’t have us both!” Y/N yelled, pointing towards the cross.  Bucky sighed defeatedly when he glanced at the cross again.  “And I won’t make you choose.”

“I just want you,” Bucky said desperately.

Y/N shook her head as she side-stepped him.  “Goodbye Bucky.”  She took her heels off so she wouldn’t make too much noise walking along the hard floors and opened his door.  “See you when I see you.”

“Y/N,” Bucky whispered but she was already halfway down the hallway, ducking around the corner and back towards the side door he’d let her in earlier.  Bucky broke down in tears for the first time in years as he watched her leave.  He closed his door and sat down beside it as he wept.  Everything he felt was too conflicting.  Devotion pulling him two different ways, the lust he’d been drunk on, the guilt eating him from the inside out, her smell still floating around the room making him aroused but devastated.  He got up and walked over to his bed, her body outline still indented into his comforter.  He fell to his knees where he’d been earlier and laid his head into the indent, his tears wetting the blanket as he breathed deeply, trying to calm the throbbing pain in his cock and his heart.  

**picture if from Pinterest, it's A.I. so there's no "artist" or "creator"**

@wintrsoldrluvr

[m-vymer]

A warm day outside

Fanart by Ivy @anchoredtether and Ficlet by me @m-vymer

This wonderful art was gifted to me by the amazing Ivy for the Keep the Flame Alive @toarisetheflame Valentine's gift exchange.

I'm absolutely obsessed with it so I wrote a ficlet in response! See the fic (and plain background version) in the cut.

It was unsually warm for an early spring day in Menancia. Still, Alphen wanted to chop firewood for next season. It was so warm he took off his shirt, sighing in relief from the air against his damp skin. After deciding to take a break, he rested his axe on the splitting stump.

He looked over at his fiancée walking around barefoot in the grass outside, hand to her face in thought.

Alphen looked at her and the house in the background. He and Law had recently finished painting the house yellow, inspired by the color of Shionne's favorite dress that she happened to be wearing.

It all still felt like a dream come true, the two of them settling down here in the quiet countryside after everything. He gazed at her with a smile, but she was too lost in thought for her notice.

"Whatcha thinking about?" he finally asked.

She twirled around to him. "Oh! I was actually thinking... What if we had the wedding out here? It's peaceful and spacious, and the weather is good, usually."

"That sounds nice." Every idea from her sounded nice. Well, except when she was being exceptionally bossy, but for now and most of the time, he was smitten with her.

"Really... But no other input?" She walked up to him with a tilted head and hands behind her back.

"You're the boss, miss. Soon to be missus."

"But you're taking my name..." When she reached him she threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her back around her waist. She poked him in the chest. "Hm... You're sweaty."

"Do I need to wash off? ...or maybe you should join me!" With that he hugged her tight, making her protest but also laugh.

"Hey! You're getting your sweat on my dress and I just cleaned it!"

"Take it off, then," he whispered into her ear.

She pushed against him. For a second, he was worried about how she would react, but her blushing adorable face was worth it.

"It's warm out here, huh..." She didn't look him in the eye. "H-how does a cool bath inside sound?"

"That sounds nice."

She shook her head and laughed, before standing up on her toes for a kiss. She then twirled around and ran for the inside of the house. He ran after her.

In the end, it took them half an hour longer for them to make it up the stairs to the bathroom.

(And here is the plain background version of the art. Thank you so much again, Ivy!!!)

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Twenty degrees below zero

The wind bites into the cold stillness of the large banks of snow, quick, angry and relentless, scattering snowflakes all over. Tall trees sway with the force of it, movements sharp and uncoordinated, shaking off the buildup of ice on snow on the barren wood. The bone-chilling howling of the wind is the only sound that fills the otherwise lonely landscape... that, and a pair of heavy, tired footsteps.

Wei Ying knows that he has to keep moving no matter what. He knows he has to will his aching, freezing feet to move, he has to keep walking. If he stops, he won't get up again, he won't find it within himself to fight his exhaustion anymore and he'll die frozen to death.

He can't, not now, not with the little boy he's carrying in his arms, so young and fragile and beautiful, so ravenous for life. He can't give up, no matter how much he's hurting, how hard it is for him to breathe as the wind whips up against him, biting into his skin.

He has to keep A-Yuan covered in the warmest of his clothes, even if that leaves him open to the whims of the harsh winter. He has to keep moving so they both can live.

It's so impossibly cold that even his tears have frozen on his cheeks, painful. Every single part of his body feels frost-bitten, equal parts numb and painful.

There is no shelter around. He has to keep moving. He has to find somewhere to hide into, away from this wintry hell, and then he'll finally be able to afford the luxury of sitting down. Maybe even warming up. He doesn't think he remembers what any of that is like. He's been walking for days now.

A-Yuan stirs. "Xian-gege..."

"Hm?"

"It's really cold... can we go home now?"

Home doesn't exist anymore. It's been destroyed, reduced to ashes, to nothing. Ruins, covered in ice and snow now.

"I'll find us a new home, okay?" Wei Ying struggles to smile, leaving a cold kiss on the boy's forehead as he fixes the clothes and blankets around him nore tightly. "You just have to hang on a little more for me, okay?"

"Okay..."

Wei Ying brings the boy even closer to his body, trying to share in his sparse body heat. If only he still had his golden core... now, he only feels the scar on his dantian aching. Resentful energy doesn't keep warm and corpses are too cold and unfeeling to care for a child.

Wei Ying spots a little cottage in the distance. It almost feels like it's a mirage, an illusion - Wei Ying's been praying to find some semblance of shelter so much that it feels too good to be true when he seems to have found it.

But he is so cold and so scared that A-Yuan might freeze to death and join the rest of his relatives (the relatives that have begged Wei Ying to run off with him, to forget the siege and the amulet and everything, just save the little one) that he gathers all his dimming strength and manages to stumble to the little house and almost can't believe that it is real.

The door is held closed by a latch so rusty that even Wei Ying, weak as he is right now, manages to break it. He feels like he could cry from happiness, finally sheltered from the blizzard outside.

The place is modestly furnished, but does have a little fireplace and enough firewood to last a few days. Whoever used to live there must have left it, and Wei Ying is so grateful to this person that he could sell his soul to them. The bed is stacked with blankets too, woollen. Expensive.

Wei Ying slowly peels a sleeping A-Yuan off him and bundles him into the soft blankets, then lights up one of the only two candles around. A-Yuan is scared of the dark, and it's almost night time by now.

There is some rice left in the kitchen and some jugs of water - more than enough to cook some for A-Yuan and himself for a few days before the snow storm settles and he can go hunt something else. He can warm up some of that water to give the little one a bath while he lights up the fire, and maybe he can melt some snow for himself as well.

Wei Ying feels like this is all a dream. Just a few hours ago he was sure he would die in the cold, unable to keep his promise to the Wen remnants... now he has a place to stay and food to eat and wood to build a fire.

He gets to work right away, ignoring how painful his extremities are now that the cold can't numb them anymore.

---

A-Yuan soaks into the hot water happily as Wei Ying wipes the dirt off him with a piece of cloth, the soap leaving a delicate fragrance behind.

Wei Ying found a lot of useful things in the sparse drawers around: young boys' clothes, bath items, a comb, even some perfume. The person that lived there must have been a woman - Wei Ying found a hairpin and a bracelet in a little box, as well as a small thing of face powder.

There was also some medicine, although Wei Ying couldn't recognize what it was. The woman that lived there likely became ill and died, leaving her house abandoned. All the more luck to Wei Ying.

"You're all done." Wei Ying says as he picks A-Yuan up from the bathtub, helping him dress in one of the sets of robes he found in the house. "These were made for you, I swear! Now, go sit at the table and I'll bring you some food, alright?"

"Okay!"

A-Yuan doesn't seem to mind how flavorless the rice is, and eats it ravenously, color back in his cheeks. Wei Ying is so happy that he doesn't realize he's hungry too - not until A-Yuan pushes his little bowl towards Wei Ying, half eaten.

"Eat with me, Xian-gege! I know you're hungry too, we can share!"

Wei Ying swallows down his tears.

---

The house is toasty warm now, and its two inhabitants are bathed and well-fed at last. A-Yuan has long fallen asleep, bundled up in blankets onto the bed, so Wei Ying has finally allowed himself to bathe and try to tend to his health. He has decided to use a bit of that medicine he found, hoping it would maybe do something to help him, and, after brushing his hair, he quietly began washing his robes, dressed in the only set of white adult robes he found in a drawer.

He finds himself humming something as he hangs up the clothes to dry in the kitchen by the stove, and doesn't realize what it is or why it brings him so much comfort to sing it - but by the time he is done, he is pleasantly calm and tired enough to get into bed next to A-Yuan, securing the door to the best of his abilities.

The boy cuddles up to him, unconsciously, and Wei Ying holds him tight as he allows himself to relax and fall asleep.

---

Lan Wangji walks up to his mother's house the next morning, troubled with the dreams he had of her that night He can't remember much about what she looked or sounded like, but he remembers that she asked him to visit her at the Gentian house the next morning because she would be waiting for him there, on the bed, like always.

It is irrational, Lan Wangji knows. His mother has been dead for years, and he doesn't believe in prophetic dreams. He knows he might have dreamt of her because he's been feeling troubled and upset and his mind is seeking comfort. He knows he shouldn't be wasting time, he knows he will find the same empty house.

But he walks up the steps towards the house and the door gives so easily - and he almost falls over himself when he feels the fading heat of the fireplace and sees... sees Wei Ying in his mother's bed, holding little A-Yuan as they sleep, serene and quiet. And Wei Ying is wearing his mother's robe.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 21

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 20 🍂 Part 22

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: Some angst...

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: @keanureevesisbae there we go... A very awkward little snippet of life. I now owe up to chapter 26! Looks like you guys are getting more Sy... Always more and more Sy... Some of the conversations in this are in Dutch, which I translated for everyone who doesn't speak Dutch. Which is... well... most people, I guess?

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @omgkatinka @summersong69 @diegos-butt @beck07990 @peaches1958 @pandaxnienke

“What in tarnation?” It was too early for you to be up, or so Sy seemed to think, and most certainly too early for anything to have you this stressed out.

“Sy,” you said, gesturing at him to put the wood he was holding away, “I’m so sorry…” That sounded very dramatic – so dramatic that he actually dropped the firewood. He was with you in seconds.

“What’s goin’ on?” His voice was soft and the look in his eyes worried.

“I completely forgot…” You stared at your phone in disbelief. “My mom is coming over.”

“My goodness, Sugar,” Sy said, “You’re gonna give a man a heart attack. When does she get here?”

“Half an hour.” Apparently, Sy did think that was cause for some panic, because he seemed to zone out for a second. “And she’s bringing my aunts. And I just realized I may or may not have forgotten to mention that we were actually dating, let alone that you’ve moved in. On the plus side, you’ll have met my whole family.”

“Whole family?” Really? That was the part that brought him back to the real world?

“Yeah. It’s just the four of us. My aunts never married, dad isn’t in the picture, don’t have any siblings.”

“You’re kidding?” The bewilderment on his face was absolutely hilarious to you. How hard could it be to understand that you just didn’t have a big family?

“I most certainly am not.”

“Sugar… Jesus, I’m kinda glad I don’t gotta meet your dad…” Alright, you understood the way he was raised, but that still hit you in the independence wrong.

“Oh, no, my mom is definitely the one you should be worried about, anyway,” you said with a sweet smile. He could suck on that. Nothing wrong with making him sweat a little… Or well… A little more. He was already covered in sweat from chopping wood, and with the amount of time you had – or rather didn’t have – you could really do without the way that drove you nuts.

“She gonna be mad we’re livin’ together?” You dodged him when he tried to hug you, which struck a nerve with him.

“Probably not. Mad that I didn’t tell her, maybe.” You shrugged, and then you looked at your phone again, “You have about 25 minutes to shower.”

“You mean…” He got that devilish grin on his face that made you curse him, and he licked his lips slowly as he took a step towards you.

“Sy, no.” You actually raised a finger at him, as if you were scolding a dog, but it didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. You shrieked as he threw you over his shoulder and marched you upstairs, not putting you down until you were in the bathroom. It was a miracle that the shirt you were wearing even survived; he all but tore it off your body. Now, of course you could have made a break for it when Sy let go of you to take off his own clothes. Except that plan went down the drain the second he lifted his shirt. God damn him and his perfect body.

You knew for a fact that Sy was far too proud of his… prowess to ever underestimate the time he’d need to fuck you properly, which meant your mom was early. At least, assuming that the person ringing your doorbell like a madman (or -woman) was actually your mom. Part of you hoped it wasn’t when you quickly struggled to get into your clothes and ran down the stairs while furiously towel drying your hair.

“Mam!” Wait, did your Dutch sound weird all of a sudden? Was there an accent to it? For the love of God, you’d said one word. There was no way to tell.

“Lara, lieverd!” She hugged you tightly before pushing past you into the house, your aunts not far behind.

“Tante!” Two more sets of arms managed to creep around you before you even realized. “Tante!” Both of your aunts greeted you, without even bothering to break up their conversation about… whatever – until something stopped them and their chattering dead in their tracks. That ‘something’ was Sy, who walked down the stairs unusually quietly and very, very carefully. Your mom raised an eyebrow at you, your aunts exchanged looks – then looked at you, then back at each other, then at Sy, then back to you.

“Lara…” One of them started, but there was no way in hell you were going to let them finish that sentence.

“Eh, mam, tantes, dit is Sy,” you said. Yeah. Your Dutch was definitely shaky. “En Sy is…” your mom asked impatiently.

“Eh… Mijn vriend.” (Eh... My boyfriend.)

“Nou! De hemel zij geprezen!” Your mom’s eldest sister said as she rolled her eyes. (Oh, thank god!)

“Zou onderhand eens tijd worden, meisje.” (It was about damn time, girl.)

“Lieve schat,” your mom whispered, “hoe oud is hij?” It took a little more courage than you had initially expected to tell your mom Sy was thirty to your twenty-four, but she seemed to be completely okay with it. Your aunts did a couple too many double-takes of Sy within the span of a few minutes to ever convince you that they weren’t on board with this. (Darling, ... , how old is he?)

“Nou, dame, het ziet er niet uit alsof je het slecht voor elkaar hebt!” Your aunts nodded at you approvingly while Sy just stood there, looking… befuddled. Because… Oh God. Because you were clearly talkling about him in a language he didn’t understand. (Well, lady, it doesn't look like you're having a terrible time.)

“I’m sorry!” You said, and you took a few steps towards him. Your plan had been to give him a hug, but somehow you couldn’t make it past putting a hand on his arm – not with your mother in the room – and his face fell when you did. He seemed to shrug it off immediately, but you knew he was going to bring it up later – as he should.

“So, Sy, that’s an interesting name.” Classic introduction to the interrogation, way to go, Mom. Sy gave them the story of why he went by Sy, and your family paid close attention. On three separate occasions, your mom’s youngest sister looked at you as if you’d gone completely insane – and maybe you had. You were sitting about as far away from Sy on the couch as you could reasonably expect to get away with, and you felt him grow more tense with every passing second. Everyone seemed to be getting along perfectly fine, and you were hoping that the rest of the day – and the rest of the visit – would be smooth sailing, but unfortunately, your aunt managed to ask that one question relatively early on.

“What do you do, Sy?” That wasn’t the question. As a matter of fact, they were thrilled to find out he was a contractor – your eldest aunt may have said something vaguely inappropriate about the appeal of strong, handy men – and they ‘aww’-ed loudly when he said he’d helped you remodel this place. But then all hell broke loose.

“And do you live in town, or…” Your mom was genuinely interested in the answer, but both you and Sy tensed up immediately. It seemed like Sy was going to leave this one up to you – which was probably for the best…

“He, eh…” you stammered, “he lives here.” The look on your face bordered on guilty, and you cursed yourself for not having put your time before they arrived to better use and actually preparing some form of an answer to this question.

“Are you telling me you’ve moved in together?” your brain scrambled for a decent explanation of the situation, naturally completely foregoing the fact that ‘the truth’ was one hundred percent an option.

“Yes?” It was more of a question than an answer. You could tell your aunts were mentally grabbing popcorn – not because they wanted to see you fight, but because they were nosy, and curious, and extremely invested in drama, and yes those were three ways of saying the same damn thing, but right now that wasn’t exactly important.

“You’ve been together for five months, and you’re living together?” You missed the perfectly neutral tone in your mother’s voice and somehow plastered a boatload of anger and derision over it, instead. “For how long?”

“A little over a month, ma’am,” Sy said politely. You should have been grateful that he was willing to shoulder some of the blame, but instead you panicked even more. And this type of panic, you recognized all too well. It was the kind of panic you couldn’t contain, the kind of panic that sent words flying out your mouth you really shouldn’t be saying.

“It just… It seemed like a good idea at the time…” Implying that it didn’t seem that way now, great start. “Sy’s been looking for a place forever.” Present tense that really shouldn’t be there, you were really going for gold here. “It was supposed to be a temporary solution.” Blatant lie – and the thing that really caught Sy off guard. He snapped his head up and looked at you.

“Temporary sol-” He couldn’t even finish the word. “Sugar, I think I need to head out for a minute, ‘fore I say somethin’ incredibly stupid.” He still managed to excuse himself to your aunts and mom before he got up and left the house.

“Ben jij nou helemaal van de pot gepleurd?” Your aunts really didn’t hesitate to give you a piece of their minds – not that your mom was thrilled about the situation. (Are you completely insane? Literally: Did you fall off the toilet. (I wish I was kidding.))

“Heb jij enig idee hoe weinig van zulke kerels er rondlopen op deze planeet?” Well, the good news was they liked him… (Do you have any idea how scarce good guys like that are on this planet?)

“Vierentwintig jaar, Lara, lopen wij met z’n allen te wachten, tot jij eindelijk eens een keer met een leuke vent thuiskomt.” Oh boy, you could tell your youngest aunt was on fire tonight… “En punt één zeg je niks als je er eindelijk een gevonden hebt, punt twee jaag je ‘m zo even buiten. Wat moeten we nou in godshemelsnaam met jou, hè?” (Twenty-four years, Lara, we're waiting for you to bring home a nice guy" ... "And first of all, you don't tell anyone when you've finally found one, second of all, you chase him out the dore just like that. What in the name of everything that's holy are we supposed to do with you?)

There it was again. They’d been telling you for years that they were close to abandoning all hope when it came to your (up until then completely nonexistent) love life, but this time, they actually looked for real. Your mom suggested she and sisters go back to the hotel – they were exhausted from traveling, after all – so you could talk to Sy, and without waiting for you to answer, they got up and left. Now ‘leaving’ was a process that took them at least thirty minutes. Thirty minutes in which your mom reassured you several times that she didn’t have a problem with the two of you living together, even if it was soon, and emphasizing how much better it would have been if you’d just told them the truth – as if that advice was going to help you now that the damage was already done. You were also told about twenty times that your mom and aunts really liked Sy, and that you should try your very best to fix this. Somewhere in that half hour between when they said they’d leave, and the moment the front door actually closed behind them, Sy came back home.

“Sy, I can explain…” you started, but he wasn’t having any of that. You’d done plenty of explaining, according to him. And you had to admit he probably had a point there.

“I can fuck you on every available surface in this house, but I can’t hug you in front of your family. That’s great. Thanks.” Right, he was clearly pissed about that too – and also completely within his right to be pissed, if you were completely honest about it. There were tears in your eyes before he even got to the part that made him really mad, and you saw him look away – he couldn’t stand to see you cry.

“Sugar, I wouldn’t’a cared if you’d told your ma that we’d only been livin’ together for a week. But it seemed like a good idea at the time? Makin’ it seem like I’m still lookin’ for a place, like this is a… Sugar, do you see this as a temporary thing?” That was somehow a very unexpected question. Especially the question behind the question.

“Sy, I…” You shook your head. “What are you asking me?”

“Do you think that this will end?”

“I don’t want it to,” you said, your voice almost pleading, as if he was actually saying goodbye to you.

“That’s not what I asked, is it?” he said. “When you think about five years from now, am I there? Are we still together?” You had to admit to yourself that you hadn’t dared think about it.

“Sy, anything could happen, and it’s not up to me, I-“

“Sugar. When you think about your future, am I in it?” His current attitude told you a lot about what his reply to his mom calling him out for ‘living with a woman he had no intention of marrying’ would have been. “Lara, I need an answer.” He sounded sad, defeated, almost.

“Yes,” you said, although your voice was just a whisper, “I do see a future with you.” It was freeing to admit that to yourself, but you knew it was going to take a lot more courage to admit it to the rest of the world.

“Then start actin’ like it, Sugar,” Sy said calmly.

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Seven snippets, seven people

Well this is a new one for me, lol Thanks for the tag @sleepyowlwrites!!

Pulling snippets from Abracadabra and Halfblood (both going through a re-working) and some of my favorites from Becks' Backstories. No pressure tagging @ettawritesnstudies @kittensartswriting, @bloodlessheirbyjacques, @magic-is-something-we-create, and just an open tag for the rest Because An-Hour-From-Midnight-As-I'm-Typing-Brain Reasons 😂

A JulesXRod conversation. Hard to make a deal when neither of them trusts the other. I mean, it's with reason...

"You want what?" Jules asked, drawing me back to our conversation. Her black eyes stared at me in complete passive boredom, flicking down to the cell in my hand before going back up to my face. "You heard me," I answered, putting the phone away. "I want to make a deal." A slow, patronizing smile spread across her face. "And what could you offer to me, little thief?" "In exchange for your sword, I can offer you a way home." Her smile fell into a frozen line as a look of feigned annoyance crossed her face. "Nice try, darling,” she sighed, flicking some hair over a shoulder as she folded her arms. “The portals were sealed a long time ago. No one can open them these days. Not even you." "They weren't sealed," I said with a sly smile. "They were locked." She shrugged a single shoulder. "Same difference if you don’t have the key, dear.”

Rod does not like the cold.

My fingers were all but frozen as I struggled to close my phone. Kashi was captured, huh? I felt like I should have been more surprised at the news, but I doubted much could surprise me at this point. At least she had one of me there to rescue her. My next stop was so high up in the mountains one could barely breathe. It was cold. So cold. So, so freaking cold. The air was thin. Snow whipped my body and stung my face. None of it was nearly as intimidating as the twenty-foot circle of protective magic set smack-dab in the middle of the frozen forest. It was old magic, completely foreign to Terra. There was no wildlife around to speak of. Even the trees seemed reluctant to come near the barrier. They kept the edge of the circle at arm's length, the very edges of their branches inches away from the invisible border. I stood at the edge, staring down.

Rod talks it out with a sentient sword.

I gave a frustrated snort. "No, I mean what is he? He has far too much magical ability to be human." "He's…" She hesitated, green eyes paling. “…complicated." “Aren’t we all.” It was a dodgy answer, and she knew it. A small telling smirk rested on her pale face, her form flickering for a moment. The sword was laughing at me. I’m the imp. I laugh at people. A look of annoyance passed across her face, color returning to her body in a sharp burst. "Did you learn what you needed or not?" "I always learn," I said, crossing my arms. “The question is whether or not I’ll act.” We stared at each other for a moment more, but it was posturing at this point. There was no sense in picking at a dead plant if you’re not looking for firewood. I shot her a quick smile. "It's high time for a family reunion, Lady Grace. Let's say we go find your niece." Said niece, ‘Jules’ by name, was a six-foot tall sociopathic witch with a bloodlust rivaled only by some of the oldest and meanest Elewnai. She had been active lately, but the last I heard, Jules had run off to Spain with an ex-Keeper and was hiding out with him in an abandoned house off one of the side-roads connected to a rural town. Granted, sometimes keeping track of timelines was difficult thanks to my hat, but it seemed a good enough place to start.

An introduction to Kashi that I wrote a few days ago. Kashi does not like collars.

Rain. Cold spikes through the dark of the night, stabbing and splintering across the rooftops, dancing against the concrete and stone that stretched out in an endless sweep of man-made structures, ones meant to break the horizon and reach into the sky. Kashi crouched silently, pressing against the night and hiding from starlight. Her nose for magic had led her to this place, the trail of one of her kind dragging itself through the air and the earth until it seemed to settle here. She wasn’t sure what was so important about this place, only that her prey had stopped here and so had she. Dark splotches of water peppered the street and sidewalk below, pooling in the cracks spiderwebbing across the cement while the dim streetlights showed barely a halo of electric light below. It was enough to see by, her eyes flicking between shadow and light as she waited. A band of metal around her neck itched, the light flashing just enough to be annoying, to let you think it had finished before flashing again. Damn Keepers. They wanted her to hunt down one of her own kind but didn’t give her nearly enough room to do it in. Probably afraid that she’d run if they didn’t collar and tag her before letting her loose. And they were right.

Back in the Old West days, Becks went by Jo Hunter, Witch of the Mojave. And she likes killing people.

She licked her lips and turned back to the one at gunpoint. Pressed the tip of her pistol into his skin. “Now…you want to think about your next move? Or should we get to the part where I just kill you?” He didn’t stop glaring, his victim having already scuttled away and was hiding in the corner. Body tensed as he made his decision. “Go to hell!!” he roared, turning and slapping her gun away, rounding on her with a gun of his own. She used the action to spin away from the wild shot, turned and kicked out, catching him in the leg hard enough to bring him to a knee. She regained her footing and locked a hand around his neck, enhancing the grip with a thick set of vines that wormed their way under his skin. And smiled. Laughed. “Where do you think I come from!?” His eyes widened as she began to suck his life away, slowly and painfully. His hands wrapped around hers, confusion and panic setting in as he realized he couldn’t pry it away. Too weak, too scared. Eyes began to wander, but she latched onto his brain and forced him to listen to her. Forced his brain to do what she said. “Look into my eyes,” she whispered. “I wanna watch your pitiful little soul escape as I suck it from your sockets.”

1700s, Becks was known as Silvia. She's started to get the idea that maybe William isn't what he seemed like at first but isn't sure she wants to care.

He frowned. Looked at the ground. Back at her. Walked up to her and put a hand on her arm. “Please? You know he likes you more than me. And…I know you don’t like it when he’s angry. I know you don’t like it when I…” he hesitated as she began to draw away from him, his grip on her arm tightening just a little. Just enough to keep her there. “Angel. Come back with me.” She looked at his hand. His grip was…she wanted to run. To flee. It was too restricting against her arm. Pulling her, keeping her there. But…But William liked her. More than liked her, if he had been telling the truth the last few years. And he had never been afraid of her. Not like Bran. Not like the mages. Not like the humans. Never feared her. She pouted a little and finally nodded. “Alright, I’ll…William. I’ll do it, just let go.” He kept his hand around her arm just a little longer, looking her in the eyes. There was a flicker of something there…some satisfaction almost. It was gone in a moment as he smiled and let her arm go. “Thank you, Angel. Let’s get back before he loses his mind even more.”

And this is when Becks was known as Mattie, and what Mattie did to people that threaten her kid.

“We’re taking the child,” the man stated, hand around Lily’s arm. “And that gun isn’t going to change the issue.” Mattie had a rifle trained at his head, stood steady and still on the rickety old porch. “Say that again when you aren’t sweating,” she snapped. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” he said calmly. “This creature–” “My kid!!” “--is not even human. Not all the way, at any rate. She’s clearly messed with your head, made you think she’s your daughter, but believe me. That’s what these things do.” “Call her a thing one more time,” Mattie said calmly, “and it’ll be the last words you speak.” “Ma’m, I can assure you. Your life will be better without her in it. These things–” A shot rang out. The body jerked, dropped to the floor.

Thanks again! (And sorry it took so long!)

[thorin-baby-bear]

Wolf’s Den

A Werewolf by Night Agere fic :3 

Tags: little!jack russel, cg!ted, babysitter!steven grant, babysitter!marc spector 

CW: Anxiety, fear, mild swearing Jack being really worried about Ted 

(This wasn’t requested, I just watched WWBN and was like “oh yeah that guys a regressor” and then wrote it lol)

Jack was bored. Sitting out in his little camp and waiting for Ted to get home had proved to be, while definitely safer than going out, terribly uneventful. It had been almost an hour since Ted had said he’d be back, so on top of all the boredom Jack was feeling a lot of anxiety for his friend. It was nothing new, Ted was late all the time, but what if he got hurt? What if someone took him away like last time? Jack wrapped his blanket tightly around himself, searching for the last of the firewood he had grabbed as the sun sunk lower and lower into the sky. The fire in front of him sputtered pitifully, the twigs and branches he’d found were damp from last night’s rain. Growling in frustration, Jack threw the branch he was holding away and sat down with a huff. It was never easy to do things when he regressed. He tried not to go fully little when Ted wasn’t around so that he could have some protection, but this time it hadn’t been entirely voluntary. He had gotten spooked by a twig breaking nearby and in his alertness and fear had begun to slip and hadn’t been able to stop himself. 

So now he crossed his arms huffily, watching as the sun set behind the horizon and the night noises began. It was a bit scary, being all alone in the dark, open area of their camp, but Jack knew he could defend himself. He just had to be a little bit bigger first. So Jack started to try everything he could think of to make himself big again: taking off his blanket, drinking the leftover coffee sludge from that morning, even slapping himself a little, but none of it seemed to work. He started to panic. What if a bear came? What if another monster showed up and wanted his territory? What if Ted came back and was mad at him- 

A twig snapped just outside Jack’s camp. 

“Shit.” A voice hissed.

Jack dove into his little lean to, pulling his blanket up and over his head as he burrowed deeper under it, trying to make himself smaller and less noticeable. He let out a shaky breath as he heard footsteps, quiet at first but then louder and louder until they stopped just by his barely smoldering fire. A pause. A sigh. “Yes, Marc, I know… No, he’s still here, wouldn’t have left the fire burning with no one to put it out… Well I don’t know, maybe because he lives in a forest? I mean, his house is a bloody hut made of sticks for christ’s sake, it could’ve burned down!” The voice was British, and the pauses almost made it seem like he was talking to someone on the phone. The conversation went on like that for a while, reply, pause, reply, pause, until finally Jack got up the courage to peek at the man in front of his lean too. From where he was pressed to the ground, all Jake could see was a pair of nice, white shoes that looked like they didn’t have a speck of dust on them, which was odd for someone walking through the forest. Then the shoes turned to face the lean too, and Jack retreated back under his blanket, shivering slightly from the cold.  

“Look, this is stupid, we’re not trying to sneak up on him or anything… I’m just going to call him.” The voice started, pausing and chuckling quietly before beginning to call out, “Jack! Jack Russell! It’s alright mate, we’re not here to hurt you. Your friend sent us, the big one with the squid face? Yeah, he just wanted us to check in, see how you– no, Marc I don’t think I should be quieter,  what if he’s really far– okay that’s a fair point but– can you let me speak please?” 

At the mention of Ted, Jack shot up from under his blanket, causing the voice to scream a bit in shock. “Ted?” He asked, walking towards the man in his camp, who was wearing a funny mask and white suit. Weird for the forest, Jack thought in the back of his head.” “Wh– yeah, Ted!” The man said, backing away as Jack continued to walk towards him. “You uh, you must be Jack then?” 

“Where?” Jack said, stopping and staring at this strange man. The other man paused, put his hands up and took a deep breath. “He’s okay, just a little tied up right now. He wanted me to make sure you were okay while he was away.” Jack tilted his head to the side and frowned, trying hard to keep the quiver out of his lip. “So… not comin’ back?” He asked quietly, his frown deepening when the man shook his head. “Not yet, sorry mate.” He said, shrugging his shoulders with a slightly confused expression. Jack nodded, sitting down heavily on the floor and pulling his knees to his chest, trying to hide the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He didn’t need whoever this stranger was seeing him like this, he was too vulnerable. The camp lapsed into awkward silence as the man stood, rubbing the back of his neck as Jake sniffled quietly. “I’m Steven, by the way.” The man said hesitantly. Jack nodded into his arms and made what Steven assumed was meant to be a wave. 

In the silence, Steven looked over the campsite. It looked quite neat for an outdoor camp, but blankets and little dolls seemed to be placed haphazardly around, some hanging from clothes lines and some just spread across the floor. The dolls were small, handcrafted things with messily sewn clothes that seemed to be made from old scraps, things no one would ever use so they just got thrown away. Messy pictures also hung from the clothesline, pictures of a big green bush looking thing next to a dog, pictures of paw prints, pictures all made in crayon that looked like they were made by a child– oh. Steven looked down at Jack, eyes widening slightly as the pieces fell into place. 

“Marc,” Steven said, making sure to keep this conversation in his head so he didn’t upset Jack anymore. “I think he’s little.” 

“Are you sure?” Marc’s voice sounded in the back of his head, just like it always did. “Maybe they just have a kid who lives here too.”  

“Marc, look at him. He’s literally curling in on himself.”  

On the ground, Jack was in fact trying to make himself smaller, tucking his head between his knees and wrapping arms around himself, effectively turning into a little ball as he failed to hide his sniffling. Marc sighed. “Well what do you think we should do?” He asked. Steven paused, thinking it over. “Well,” He started, “we can’t just leave him here. Somebody needs to stay with him.” Steven could almost feel the way Marc was rolling his eyes. “And by someone you mean us, right?” Steven nodded, smiling slightly at Marc's groan of annoyance. “Who else?” 

Slowly, Steven knelt down, taking off his mask and smiling at Jack. “Hey, it’s alright mate. Ted’s a big guy, I’m sure he’ll be just fine!” He said gently. Jack looked up at him, his eyes glassy and his nose running. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely, “bu’ what about me?” Steven blinked in surprise. “You?” He said gently, “It looks like you’ve been doing a fine job taking care of yourself to me.” Jack wiped his nose and looked up at Steven skeptically. “R–really?” Steven nodded, smiling as he sat down fully on the ground. The corner of  Jack’s mouth twitched upwards in a hesitant smile and he picked up a stick, drawing little doodles in the dirt. “Thanks, I guess…” He sniffled. Steven sighed and looked around, taking another slow survey of the camp. 

The fire was going out, so he’d probably have to go grab some more wood if he wanted to keep them both warm, but he was hesitant to leave Jack alone. “Hey, want to come get wood with me?” He asked. Jack squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re not gonna kidnap me, right?” He questioned. Steven laughed and stood up, walking towards the surrounding trees. “No, mate, I’m not gonna kidnap you. I just thought you might want to help is all.” Jack hesitated before rising and starting to search for wood. 

That was… Nice. Marc said inside their head. Steven nodded, staring into the fire tiredly. “Yeah, it was.” He yawned, almost feeling Marc’s eyebrow raise. I could take over for a bit, he offered, if you’d like to get some rest. Steven nodded. “Just wake me when Ted gets here, yeah?” He said, closing his eyes slowly. Will do. Rest well Steven. Was the last thing Steven heard before he drifted off, content with his day's work.

Shortly after the two had a nice fire going, warm enough that it stopped Jack’s shivering and made him look more comfortable than before. Steven made small talk (favorite color? Animal? Movie?) and the two stayed up until well after the sun had set, the elder telling stories and the younger giggling whenever he would exaggerate. The night came to an end when Jack began to yawn, and Steven helped him into the lean to, piling blankets onto him to make sure he didn’t freeze and ruffling his hair. “Night Jack, sleep tight.” He whispered. “Nini Steven, thank you for watchin’ me.” Jack mumbled sleepily. Steven smiled and moved back outside to wait for Ted. 

[localhornist]

Aaaaannnddd I got through my schoolwork! Somehow! Now, here’s the final day of @rosebird-week ‘s Rosebird week, AU Day! This one being part of an AU I’m working on fleshing out teh dream world of Ice Queendom. Enjoy!

Once more, the AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41962854

Snow crunched under hoof, dancing in the sky and shifting across the ground as the pair rode onwards, their horses plodding slowly through the deep white powder. Raven ran a hand through her bushy hair, shaking some of the flakes from its bushy form, though they were soon replaced by the slow, steady fall from the heavens. They’d been riding for ages, yet the blurry form of trees in the distance hadn’t gotten any closer. With this pace, there was no way they’d make it by sundown.

Summer seemed to have realised the same, looking around the blank expanse for options as she pulled her woollen cloak closer to her face. She seemed to come to the same conclusion, however, and turned to Raven. “We need to make camp. Soon.”

“Really,” Raven raised an eyebrow, regarding the sellsword with a mocking tone. “And how are we gonna do that, exactly? There’s quite literally nothing out here.”

Summer was quiet for a moment, as she continued to scan the landscape, leaving the bandit to stew and stare at the back of her head.

“We can build a Quinzhee,” she finally said, turning her horse toward a small patch of trees on the verge of collapsing from the bitter wind, leaving Raven to follow her in confusion. Once they arrived, she h0opped off her horse, stamping at the ground. “Yep. Here should be good.”

“Hey, the heck are we doing-” a finger to her face cut Raven off. “We are building a shelter. I need you to make up some guide sticks, about a foot long, the same length for all of them. Get as many as you can, okay?” Not waiting for an answer, Summer went to work, pulling a shovel from one of the two baggage horses. Raven just shrugged and obliged. Clearly, the woman had a plan. She fetched her knife from her own baggage horse and trudged over to the various saplings, trees and shrubbery. And she got to work.

When she returned, she was proven right. Summer has begun creating a mound of snow, and as soon as Raven arrived, she began directing her on digging up snow, as Summer mixed the top and bottom layers of snow together and packed them onto the pile, eventually creating a mound of about 7 feet high, and 13 feet wide, along with a small mound to the side of the structure. Satisfied, Summer then had Raven help her push the sticks into the mound.

“Okay,” Raven took a few steps back, cocking her head as she regarded the structure. “Now what?”

“Now, we let it sinter.”

“The huh?”

“Sinter. The snow needs time to bind and compact,m so its strong enough to sleep under.”

“Okay. How long.”

“Eh, 2 hours-ish.” Summer ignored Raven’s agape expression, making her way over the horses who were idling around. “Get us some firewood from those trees, I’ll deal with the horses.” Once again, there was no room for arguing. Raven just grumbled to herself, grabbed her Messer, and got to work. Soon, they had fed and clothed horses, a warm fire, and meat roasting on it. The two sat opposite one another, Raven turning the meat as Summer just stared into the fire, both wrapped up in woollen cloaks. All as the sun began to kiss the horizon, the sky growing dark in shades of orange, pink and purple.

“So,” Raven began, placing the stick of meat down. “Wha’s’ the plan for tomorrow?”

Summer tapped her chin for a moment. “Well, this shelter will only be for the night. Once dawn breaks, we’ll set off as before. Once we finally reach Katrivia, we can start looking for leads.”

“Right. So just as before.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell again, and Raven began to sort out the food, handing Summer a skewer and eating her own, before setting up a set of new ones.

…

“So what’s your favourite colour?”

Summer raised an eyebrow at the question, making Raven blush. “What? I’m tryin’ to make conversation, I don’t like-”

“White.”

“Ok. Okay.”

…

“What’s your favourite food, Rae?”

Raven tapped her chin, pondering the question hard. “Hmm. I’d have to say… a nice slab of mutton. With some really nice potatoes, roasted. And gravy, loads of gravy.” Summer chuckled at her answer, making Raven scowl. “Hey, wha’s funny?”

“I just expected it to be insects, given your name.”

“Hey! I’m not a bloody bird.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I think your choice suits you more, anyway.” That seemed to satisfy Raven, as she slumped back with a “hmph”, resting on her large fur and feather cloak. This time, Summer passed the food round, and placed on the last of their skewers,

“I think it’s your turn to ask a question, isn’t it?”

Raven nodded, thinking. “How about… why’d you become a sellsword?”

“Ooo, that’s actually kinda simple. My parents both were, so it seemed the most obvious thing to go into, having lived around the job my whole life. Only thing that really would’ve stopped me was Ruby.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yeah. She means the world to me. I think if I hadn’t gotten a permanent job as a huntsman for Vale city, I might’ve put up my weapon for good. I, I didn’t really want her to grow up around that job. I managed to, sure, but… I didn’t want her limited by it. I wanted her to be more than that life, more than I could be.” She chuckled bitterly, spinning one of the skewers. “I guess I kinda failed, didn't I?”

“Hey, no, you didn’t!” Raven sat up again, leaning forward to look at Summer better. “The fact you’re in this bloody hellscape proves that. So many other parents wouldn’t go to anywhere near these lengths to find their kids.” Summer hummed, nodding her head.

“Well, what about you? Yang’s your daughter's name, right?” That made Raven grab her cloak hard, letting silence fall between them, like a sudden wall of ice. “I-I’m sorry, that's probably personal, isn’t it? I’ll ask something else-”

“No.” Raven put her hand up. “No, it’s fine. It’s only the same as what I asked, I owe you an answer.” Summer gulped, but didn’t object.

“I… didn't break any cycle, as you did. I raised her like a Branwen, as anyone else in the clan would. And well… I think she resents me for that. Cause in a tribe like mine, things like personal connection, hell jus’ caring… they’re seen as weak. And Yang, well… that firecracker didn't like that. She thought we shouldn’t just rule over the weak, but protect them too. Help them become strong too, not jus’ sit in our lil’ camp in the woods. And that meant we butted heads, hell she butted heads with everyone. And one day, well…

She left. So I’m out here, lookin’ for her. But it’s been a while, and… well, I doubt she actually thinks I’m lookin’ for her.”

…

“I disagree.”

“Hmm?”

“I think she knows you’re out here. Looking for her. Because if you were really like how you said, you wouldn’t be. You’d still be at that camp, looking after yourself. Deep down, you want to keep her safe. Protect her. And yes, that didn’t manifest in the greatest of ways, but that’s still why you did it. And seeing as Yang’s made it this far, presumably with just Ruby, who I know certainly isn’t some wonder woman with a weapon, she’s clearly attentive. So she will have noticed why you did it. And I bet she’ll be waiting. No, I know she will be.”

For another time, silence fell between them, only broken by the spitting of the fire and the whistling of the wind. The sun was dropping further, however, so they needed to use what little light they had left. Summer stood, offering a hand to Raven. 

“Come on then. We need this thing dug out before light. It should be all good now.” Raven took a moment, before she grabbed Summer’s hand, nodding.

They’d find their daughters. No matter what.

[jk-keno]

Ananyaa M 23SJCCC008

Ali Baba and the Forty thieves

Ali Baba was exhausted from the long day of cutting firewood. He still had a long walk back home, carrying all the firewood for selling them the next morning. He wished he had fought for his rightful share in inheritance when his father passed away. His brother, Cassim, though immoral and greedy, had managed to build on their father’s business and marry a wealthy woman. Ali Baba on the other hand, married a poor yet caring woman and settled into the trade of a woodcutter.

On his way back, the rhythm of a herd of trotting horses reached Ali Baba’s ears. On looking for the source of this sound, he spotted a group of 40 men, wearing black uniforms and masks that concealed their entire face, leaving just the eyes visible. They each had heavy cloth bags hanging from either side of the hors upon which they were seated. They moved in two lines towards a large rock, which appeared to be sealing a cave. One of the men got off his horse and shouted 'open sesame'.’

A few seconds later, a huge rumbling noise erupted from the cave, vibrating through the ground reaching Ali Baba’s feet. He was hiding beneath the bushes and observing the events in total silence. The thieves entered the cave and exited in the same fashion a little while later. The only difference was their bags, which looked empty. This time, one of the men yelled 'close sesame' and the giant rock rolled back to place and sealed the cave. The horses moved, and soon, there was complete silence.

Ali Baba was curious to know who the mysterious men were and what they were up to, and decided to enter the cave to investigate. He walked up to the rock, which looked even more enormous in proximity, and shouted 'open sesame', just as the man had earlier done. The rock rolled out, and revealed the interiors of the cave. Ali Baba’s jaw dropped in awe at the contents of the cave.

The cave was gigantic, and could house about 500 families. The walls had torches which lit up just when the cave opened up. The place was overflowing with riches. Gold everywhere! Huge bags of coins, jewellery, ornaments, vases, swords… all made of gold. The place was emanating a golden glow and engulfing Ali Baba in it. Drawn by the endless riches, he walked in.

Ali Baba was a man with great values. He would never refuse to help others, even if it meant giving up a part of what would help in sourcing food for the day. He was honest and worked hard to make a living. All he wanted was a break from his tiring routine work for a short while. A bag of coins would easily help him take a rest for a few days. He thus decided to take the smallest bag he could find. He walked out of the cave carefully, spoke the magical worlds to conceal the cave once more and walked back home to his wife, who was waiting for him with dinner.

Upon reaching home, Ali Baba handed over the bag to his wife. She was very excited and happy at the thought of herself and her husband finally getting an opportunity to spend some peaceful time without much worry. They can purchase better clothes and eat well for a few weeks. Upon inquiring about the source of the riches, Ali Baba narrated the entire episode, and she listened to it carefully. They then decided to borrow his sister-in-law’s weighing scales to weigh the coins the following morning. They have dinner and lay down to sleep. Their hearts suddenly felt lighter at the thought of enjoying the coming weeks.

At around midnight, Ali Baba woke up to the sound of the doors being knocked. Nobody visited their house at this hour of the day, unless it was an emergency. He rose quickly and opened the door to find his brother standing outside. He welcomed him in with a huge smile, which was, however, not reciprocated. His brother looked worried, and Ali Baba sensed that his brother was afraid of something. What could such a successful and well-to-do man possibly be scared of? Nevertheless, Ali Baba offered Cassim a glass of water and requested him to speak his mind out.

Cassim seemed very reluctant at first, but eventually said- Ali, have you ever wondered how I have managed to make all the wealth that I own? I am sure you must be thinking that I developed father’s business and became successful over the years. But I need to reveal something to you. I could not keep father’s business up and running. When the responsibility of managing it was handed down to me, I was engulfed in a sense of pride and ego that got into my head. I started mistreating the labourers and spending a lot of money for myself. In just six months after father’s death, the business failed. I failed to make father proud and wasted all his entire life's work! I was such a fool!

Cassim wept silently. He took a few minutes to settle down and continued to explain-

My wife, as you would know, belongs to a rich family. Her upbringing is such that she may fail to settle for a humble living. I could thus not share the news of the business coming to an end. I was forced to find a swift way to make money and ended up making a huge mistake. I joined a group of 40 thieves. We have managed to make a lot through stealing in the central city. I earn a good amount of money, almost equivalent to the business. My wife still believes that I go to work everyday and return back for dinner.

Everything was going well until this evening. A message was sent across to me by the chief of the gang that a bag of coins had gone missing. They maintain strict and accurate accounts. The investigation revealed that the bag had been taken in by me. They suspect I have stolen it from the cave where all the wealth is stored. I have been asked to return it by ten next morning, and to never return to the gang. If I fail to do so, my life is in danger. I need you to help me out this once, Ali, I beg you! I need to get the money from somewhere, and you are the only person to whom I can reach out. Please help me!

Ali was too stunned to speak. His brother was a thief?! All this while, he had been envious of the successful life his brother had managed to build, only to realise that it was all fake. He had resorted to doing something as unscrupulous as robbery. And Ali Baba himself had been the reason behind his brother’s life being in threat! It was Ali Baba’s turn for confessions now. He narrated the event the same way as he did to his wife earlier in the evening, but this time, not with a sense of happiness, but apologetically. Cassim was stunned. His brother had been the reason for all this trouble!

There was not even a touch of anger on Cassim’s face however. He was very grateful to know that today would after all not be his last day. His life had been saved! He hugged his brother tightly and wept all the pain out. He had never felt this way for so many years now. His love for his brother grew even more. They stayed this way for a while and finally pulled away. Cassim had one more problem however. He could not possibly return the gold himself. The thieves could recognise him easily and may still harm him for his intentions to steal from the cave. Ali Baba thus volunteered to do it, though it may risk his life too. Cassim could not believe the extent to which Ali would go to save his life. He was extremely disappointed in himself and angry that he had never once cared to help Ali out the same way and make his life a little easier.

The plan was thus executed the following day. Ali managed to slip into the cave early in the morning, much before anyone in the town would even wake up. He returned the bag right back to the place where it belonged and returned home before sunrise. Cassim could not control his tears and prostrated in front of his brother. They spent several minutes taking all the emotions in.

Since the time Cassim narrated the story, Ali Baba had something on his mind that he wanted to share. He decided to take this as an opportunity, and advised his brother.

Cassim, I believe that you have got a lovely wife. She may have been brought up in a lavish manner, but she is extremely understanding. You must share what you have been going through with her. She will love you nevertheless, for the man that you are. I request you to pour your heart out to her.

Cassim listened to his brother carefully and considered telling his wife. He returned home, and his wife was amused to see him returning this early. She asked him if he was doing well and if he had come home early due to feeling unwell. Cassim requested her to sit next to him and listen to what he had to say. He narrated all that had happened during the last few years, and fell on his knees for apology. His wife was down to tears, and pulled him into a hug. She explained to him that it did not matter how rich and lavish a life they spend. She just wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Losing him was not something she was prepared to accept. She reassured him that irrespective of what happens in the future, she would love him the same way.

Reason for choice of story

I have chosen this story for the CIA as it is a fairy tale that my father would read out very often to put me to sleep. I altered the ending to bring the brothers Ali Baba and Cassim back together. I did not want Cassim to die at the end of the tale. He deserved a second chance at making amends.

[whumppmuhw]

Whumptober Day 13: Flood

tw: death threats, previous capture, restraints, forced labor

Bonus: aroace rep for my aroace sister's bday!

Whumpee sat by the window, looking out into the pouring rain. It was hard to see anything other than the rain, but the falling drops were stimulating enough. A fire was roaring in the hearth, and Whumpee was cozy in its heat. They picked up the teacup in front of them, letting it warm their hands. They didn't take a sip, not yet; the tea wasn't cool enough and they didn't want to break the silence that way. Whumper was lounged in a chair facing the hearth, fixated on a paper in zir hands. Ze gave up on it and placed it on the coffee table next to zir, on top of a small pile. Whumpee chose this moment to finally speak. "You...you saved me." Whumper looked at them for the first time since they arrived. Ze appeared indifferent to Whumpee's observation. "Yes. Don't expect it again." "But you saved me, saved my life." Whumpee was in awe, they had expected Whumper to just let them die down there. "And? Should I expect a 'thank you?' This doesn't change things between us." "But-but why?" "Listen, Whumpee," Whumper sighed. "As much fun as it would have been to watch you drown in that leaky basement, if anyone or anything is going to kill you, it'll be me." It would have been a slow death. The floor was slightly tilted, and the pooling water was higher on Whumpee's end of the room. Whumpee had never experienced a flood like this before, and they were frightened by the amounts of water coming in as fast as it did. They were tied up in the shallow water for hours, with no end in sight except their own. Whumpee wasn't sure whether to be scared or relieved when Whumper came, who trodded through the rising water to where Whumpee lay. Ze tied a blindfold around Whumpee's eyes, then carried them over their back to zir car. Whumpee was placed in the trunk on top of several towels, then brought back to Whumper's house, where they were let down in a bathroom and given clean, dry clothes to put on before being led to the living room and looking out the window while Whumper made tea. Whumpee had never been to Whumper's house before. It was comfortable yet fancy, a nice compromise of style and practicality. Here, Whumpee felt safe from the storm, though the threat of being trapped inside for days with no one but Whumper for company hung over the scene. Whumpee had a million questions and no answers. They opened their mouth to begin, but Whumper cut them off. "Finish your tea. When you're done, I'll put you to work re-organizing my library. While you're here, and while I find somewhere else to put you when this is all over, you will work for me here. Do well, and I'll show you as much hospitality as you deserve. Refuse, or try to escape, and I'll save on firewood by using you as fuel. Understood?" "Y-Yes." "Good. Any questions?" Whumpee didn't know which one to pick. "I...how...what?...you...do you live here alone?" It seemed like a safe one to ask. "Yes, but I thought you knew that." Whumpee felt embarassed. "Oh, right, yeah." "You're wondering why?" Whumper looked thoughtful, as if ze was remembering something or trying to think of what to say. "Well, I was never able to find love, or love never found me. I'm not sad, or lonely, and I enjoy my privacy and the silence." Whumpee was confused. How could Whumper never find love? All it was is a touch of the hand, a look into their eyes, a mutual affection beyond friendship, it was easy to fall in love. Sure, Whumper wasn't all that likable, but never finding anyone? Ever? "Stop it with your silly thought process," Whumper commanded, and Whumpee was brought back to the moment. "May sound strange to you, but I'm fine the way I am. You can't miss something you never had. Now, hurry up or you'll be sleeping on the floor." With that attitude, Whumpee figured they wouldn't get much else out of Whumper. They downed their tea and followed Whumper to the library.

This was going to be, at the very least, interesting. At most, Whumpee could end up ashes in the fireplace. Or finally in a bed after weeks of stone, cold floors. Whumpee wasn't sure of anything, except that Whumper saved their life. And they still weren't sure why.

[halloweeneveryday]

Experience in NW Queensland

This story probably occurred close to 20 years ago. I'll recount it as best I possibly can.

My brother and I were camping at a little spot called Lolworth Creek. Just outside of our home town of Charters Towers which sits a couple of hours west of Townsville in North Queensland. The spot we were at was a well kept secret at the time. A tiny little patch of paradise where the water from the creek flowed over some rocks and then opened up into a beautiful waterhole. A great spot for camping. Just up the road a ways was "Echo hole" which Australian readers may know of.

So, the day went by mostly uneventful. We swam, we cooked, we drank, we ate. You know, the usual. As it was winter at the time, the sun started disappearing around 7, so we lit up the campfire and started to settle in for the night.

About an hour later was when the "weird" things started happening. It started with the fire. Now we were pretty experienced campers. We knew how to build a fire, obviously, and we knew how to build one to last the night. Which is why we were surprised, dumbfounded, and more than a little scared when we walked away to grab some things out of the car, and returned to find the fire had completely gone out. It was not a rainy day, the fire was nowhere near the water's edge, it was not humid in any way, the air was hot and dry and the firewood we were using was dry as a bone. There is no logical reason that this campfire should have extinguished. So that was weird occurrence number 1. More than a little weird, but easy enough to brush off.

Occurrence number 2 came about a little while later. We were sitting around the fire that we had since got going again. Just sitting, enjoying the peace and quiet. Now this is noteworthy, as it was deafeningly quiet. As I said, this spot was a well kept secret. No one, and I mean NO ONE, was anywhere within about 20km of us, and we would have heard them approaching from far away if they were. Suddenly, breaking the silence, we heard in the darkness the unmistakable sound of someone, yes, someONE, jumping into the waterhole. This one freaked us the hell out. Not just weird, not just a little spooky, no this was one of those moments where you feel absolutely gripped and immobilised by stone cold fear rushing through your entire body. Because what came next would make the initial sound seem like childsplay... about 10 meters from us or less, the dank, wet sound of footsteps RUNNING through the scrub now on OUR side of the waterhole. I have played this through in my mind many times throughout the years. I have attempted to come up with any possible explanation as to what could have happened. But I swear to God, there was no one there, and yet there was someone there.

After this occurrence we immediately began packing up the car. Important note here, as we were packing up we had all of the car doors open, to make it easier to load everything up. That becomes relevant in a moment. As we're walking back to the tent to start packing it up, out of nowhere the entire things just shifts sideways, as if a huge gust of wind blew into it or, more disturbingly, something or someone ran into it. There was no wind that night. I mean the air was completely still. Just like the campfire from earlier, there is no logical reason this should have happened. At this point we thought to hell with the tent we'll get a new one, we're out of here. And this was the point at which the final occurrence of the evening took place and sent us barreling out of there as fast as our little Ford Laser would take us.

Okay, let me try to explain this the best I can, the car was parked sideways on an angle. Right? The doors that were still open were on the side that was slanted down, and opened all the way, so gravity was keeping them open. In an instant, with no wind, no breeze, no anything around, those doors SLAMMED shut. That was it. Perhaps I can look back on this night now and question it with a logical mind, but in that moment there was NO QUESTION in our minds that we were being antagonised by some other worldly force, the intentions of which we had no clue and certainly were not sticking around to find out. We jumped in the car and we booked it.

To this day I have never gone back to that waterhole. Ever. And I probably never will. Like I said, there's a million and one logical explanations I could come up with looking back on it. But in my heart, I just know that every one of those is wrong.

source: https://www.reddit.com/r/ParanormalEncounters/comments/r4hn4p/very_unsettling_experiences_camping_in_north_west/

[gravelgirty]

Never too Late:  PTSD and ISLAND ZERO

“Just..Spoilers.  The elderly couple survives.

And what a delightful couple we have to view.  Reviewer Sarah Budd of HORROR SCREAMS VIDEO VAULT said,  ‘ really well acted by all involved but the absolute best characters are the elderly couple Ruth and Alvis who are by far the most entertaining’

In a film less than 2 hours long it boggles the mind how the cast shows depth and background. Now, I think all the characters are just wonderful, but in interactions, most of the people are so believable you want to smack them or stuff the number of your therapist down their collar. Imagine how infuriating your hometown would be if things got bad and monsters were coming...yeah, hold on to those cans of beans, folks. And maybe some spare sticks of TNT...

Ruth and Alvis are a long-lived, long-married couple--old-timers on a salty little island in the middle of utter nowhere, forty miles off the coast of Maine.  Ruth and Alvis are the folks you want to root for, especially since our first sight of them is not really on a positive note...

After the opening scene where something unseen kills a marine biologist (the mother of the child in the above shot) some 4 years in the past, the film snaps forward to a quietly thumping heartbeat under a stethoscope.  An old woman’s voice complains over this soft sound; this is Ruth, sitting in the back of the consult room and doing all the talking for herself and her husband Alvis while Doc Maggie tries to get some answers on Alvis. 

 Alvis is tall, getting stout about the middle, and white-bearded.  He keeps his head down and does no volunteering while Ruth explains:

Alvis has inexplicably shut down, barely moving about and gaining weight. His equally-elderly (76 years) wife Ruth is explaining it all with her frustrations leaking out of every pore: He won’t do anything. This close to Christmas it is almost impossible to not think, “Oh, holiday depression?”  He sure does seem depressed...shut down...minimalizing.

There’s another reason why Ruth is upset at Alvis; he’s keeping the house cranked up to 82-degrees F (that’s ~28-Celcius) and if you think that isn’t heatstroke worthy you are not a New Englander because those folks are tough as Okies and French Canadians).  You know that joke about the town in Maine that never used a scrap of salt or sand on their roads for 20 years because ‘they might really need it someday?’ Yeah.  That’s the culture. You say ‘blizzard’ and they say ‘spring break’.  Your average Mainelander can do just fine at 65-degrees F (or 18.3C) because they know they have to pay for every thermal unit out of pocket.  This is an island where the heat must be harvested from local firewood, or gleaned from washed-up sea coal, or brought over in drums of Diesel by the ferry or a friendly fisherman.

Ruth continues on, making it hard for Dr. Maggie to get information on her patient.  She had to split half a cord of firewood all by herself.  (FYI many houses use wood and another source of heat to get by for emergencies, so what she said is not unusual). 

For rule-of-thumb, Ruth has split enough wood to keep 1 or 2 rooms warm for a brief time.  

Her voice is strident and tearful; a tiny woman at her wits’ end.  Doc Maggie asks repeatedly for Ruth to step outside so she can talk to Alvis privately.  Ruth doesn’t understand.  Alvis isn’t helping; he is in a fugue state until she asks Alvis if there was anything he couldn’t say better than herself.  Alvis rouses enough to say, “Nope!”

But in all of this, Alvis only speaks when forced.  Getting to the doctor was clearly not his idea but he isn’t going to fuss with her over it.  It is all Ruth’s motivation and energy.  Finally, Doc Maggie runs out of steam and asks what Ruth wants her to do.  Ruth finally blurts out, “fix him!”

We see Ruth again later on...the ferry has failed to show; people are trapped on the island with no new fuel for the fishing boats or heating and lighting the houses.  Food supplies are dwindling.  Ruth stands in line at the only store and scowls at Lars, who has cleared all the beans off the shelves.  She tells him to leave some for others but Lars is an opportunist and refuses.  One of the island mothers asks the shoppers if anyone can spare a can of milk for her kids.  Ruth scolds Lars to no effect, then yanks a spare can of milk out of his basket for the mom.  There’s a scuffle but the only injury is from Sam, the biologist.  Getting between two elderly islanders is never good for anyone’s health.

Things are pretty bad.  Fishermen’s boats are found without the fishermen, and pools of blood and strange blue goop that we later learn is blood from an unknown species of cold-water creature.  No radio.  No VHF, no phone, no cable, no internet, no satellite no nothing.  

Ruth and Alvis show up again after half the film passes; by then we learn that this undiscovered species, an apex predator, is hunting the fishermen who leave the island. Tucker Island is effectively cut off from the world.  It’s horrible but everyone who is left on the island is relieved to know what’s going on.  OK, now we have something to work with!  Fantastic!  Surely help will come, right?  We’ll just stay off the water. Great! 

Then Ruth and Alvis’ neighbor Nina is found, a gnawed-up skeleton on dry land in her own house and Sam thinks of the old couple.  Something has knocked over their plastic Santa Claus; there’s a smear of Nina’s blood on the front door.  He slips in and walks through an admirably tidy and clean house...to find them both alive.

Alvis is sound asleep on the couch wrapped in what looks like a million blankets and throws, snoring away in a boiling hot house while Ruth reads a book.  He and Ruth have no idea their neighbor was just butchered a few feet from their house, and that whatever did it tried to come in but didn’t move past the front door.

“Are you ok?”

“Alvis ain’t up to speed, but, I’m ok.”

So everyone on the island is moved to the inn where they can theoretically all be safe together (ok fine, but it sounded better than being alone, right?)  We see Ruth sitting on the stairs with her arm around the young waitress who lost her old beau Emmett--one of the first fishermen to go missing.  She’s clearly not doing great.  Alvis is glued by the fireplace with the same knit afghan he was sleeping under in his house.

We do learn that of the four people on the island who own firearms, Ruth and Alvis are half of them.  Ouch. Ruth knows Arthur (another eaten fisherman) used to hunt and thanks to her more ammo is found in his house.

The next time we see Alvis, he has a front row seat to a monster attack. 

The sea creatures rip Val in two.  It happens so quickly and no one can see it moving at all; there’s a lot of screaming and in-shock reactions. But Alvis actually speaks up.

“They’ll...be back.”

Doc Maggie asks him for more information (after they recover their wits) and Alvis slowly explains that he hasn’t seen them before, but...he’s seen what they can do.  

We learn from his halting, trembling words that Alvis is the sole survivor of a 13-crew freighter ship Dundee 30 years ago.  First the dolphin vanished, then one by one, members of the crew.  Bill.  Jake.  On the third night... Alvis almost chokes on the words about to come.  The third time he tries, the words finally escape.  He was working in the engine room when he heard gunfire.  He laughs mirthlessly at how he thought pirates were attacking. He came up to see that everyone he knew was dead, slaughtered, and he couldn’t explain to the Navy what he even witnessed.  In the background we hear his memory of the Navy chopper, a heavy weight pressing down on his health and sanity.  There is no wonder he doubted himself; what little he saw didn’t make sense and had no frame of reference to a seasoned seamen from an fishing island.

“Just...on deck.  A shimmer. Like...TV static...shimmering...”

“The Navy asked me what had happened....I couldn’t tell ‘em...!

‘...it was thirty years ago...”

So much about Alvis is made clear now.  There is a strong suspicion that the timing of the past attack was at this time of year--Alvis’ depressive funk is not typical for him, or Ruth would have said something (we know she doesn’t hold back).

Alvis and Ruth are delightfully well-suited.  One suspects she was the driving force holding them together and keeping them both motivated when Alvis struggled.

The situation suddenly gets worse.  One of their group is a spy for said Navy and he has killed a young islander--barely out of girlhood--to bait the monsters.  Ruth is all for shooting him if he doesn’t answer their questions.  When someone protests, Ruth says, “I’m okay with this.  You, Alvis?”

“Got nooo problem.”

Do not play higher moral grounds with old Mainelanders. 

Rather than get his jewels shot off, the spy explains that the island is ground zero for the projected invasion of this intelligent, hunting, amphibious creature that doesn’t show up on sonar or radar or heat-seeking machines, nor is it visible to other forms of tech.  He is supposed to be the diplomat to open negotiations and--way to go for victim blaming--he says everything is ruined because Doc Maggie shot one of them (because they were tearing Val apart, picky, picky) and he needs to try to negotiate with them. Hence why he slaughtered Jessie, a waitress who had a crush on him.  He murdered her and left her out as a peace offering to the creatures, who mutilated her sad remains.  So.  This is negotiating, eh?

Cue Ruth’s reaction and the best damn line in the whole movie:

“You are...negotiatin’...with FISH!”

And it just gets worse; the Navy has decades of information on these things and are determined to use their elusive qualities for the war department.  The whole island is a sacrifice zone for these goals where they expect the creatures to wipe out everyone on Tucker Island (thus getting rid of any witnesses). As a huge mass of these things crawl to the house, the spy yells to be let go, to let him negotiate.

Ruth is not pleased. 

“Only negotiatin’ is gunna be with this heah shotgun!”

Things actually get worse when the spy persuades them to let him talk to the monsters.  It doesn’t take long to realize his ‘negotiations’ are more in the form of, ‘eat them, not me’.

Everyone else flees to the attic, but Alvis is frozen in trauma.  Ruth screams at him to come but he can’t move.  It’s horrible.

In the attic the survivors can only hear screaming.

Ruth sinks to a trunk, shotgun in her lap, stunned.  She is the picture of abject misery...

...until something wet and slimy splats on her hand.

Ruth doesn’t hesitate.  Her head snaps up to the ceiling and she fires.

[INSERT GROSS MONSTER DEATH]

Seriously, that thing is nasty.  I’m quite pleased that we don’t see a lot of it. I am GLAD they have a special ability to bend light and make them almost impossible to see.  I mean, look at what we can see of them.  Ack.  Clearly, this was designed by somebody who had frequent nightmares about glass eels mating with cephalopods.

Not that Ruth cares.  While everyone else is trying to recover from all this she weeps for Alvis...

Who is (despite all logic) alive and well. The creatures backed off.

The reunion is so adorable.  “DAMN OLD FOOL!  I THOUGHT I’D LOST YOU!” (more crying and huggin)

The Navy Spy, however...well, Alvis points to the various places the man is...er...residing...throughout the house when Sam asks where he is.  When Lucy asks why Alvis was still alive, Ruth suggests he was too tough.  

But no, he was too hot.

Doc Maggie figures it out!  The creatures are cold-blooded and cannot stand heat.  They never touched him on the ship because he had been in the hot engine room; they didn’t enter their house because the thermostat was cranked!  

When the others wonder what the repellent temper could be, Ruth pipes up, ‘82 degrees’...the temperature he keeps in their house.

Alvis is a changed man after this.  He is still taciturn; but he knows at long last what happened on his ship.  He knows why he is the survivor now, shedding an eternity of fear and guilt. That tiny scrap of information from his story lets the survivors set a trap, a last-ditch shot so they can get off the island before the Navy comes and finishes the job the creatures started.

Of course, there’s always one last snarl, but...The end of the film is hopeful.  The old couple and child are being rowed to safety and Doc Maggie, a veteran of two wars who has kept herself in lean fighting shape, means it when she says she can row the whole 40 miles to the mainland.  She means it. 

And as they row away, in contrast to their first scene together, Alvis and Ruth are holding each other tightly.  

[mrcatfishing]

I posted 20,044 times in 2022

That's 15,084 more posts than 2021!

31 posts created (0%)

20,013 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fipindustries

@52catsinatrenchcoat

@catgirl-intestinal-parasite

I tagged 1,798 of my posts in 2022

#🔥 - 739 posts

#wildbow - 265 posts

#parahumans - 226 posts

#worm - 185 posts

#otherverse - 89 posts

#ward - 66 posts

#pale - 62 posts

#dndads - 50 posts

#pact - 40 posts

#lb - 32 posts

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

"average Other kidnaps 3 children a year" factoid actualy just statistical error. average Other kidnaps 0 per year. Man Beorg, who lives in woods & steals over 10,000 when unbound, is an outlier adn should not have been counted.

27 notes - Posted January 19, 2022

#4

Your clothes smell, and feel wrong. They always have. When you were little, you would throw off your clothes at any opportunity. As soon as you became dexterous enough to dress yourself, you had a habit of undressing whenever possible.

When you got older, Mother no longer let you stay naked. She whupped you with her broom if she saw your back was bare, and the same for your behind. The sting of her broom lingered in your memory as you felt the fabric rustle along your chest and you wanted so badly to tear it away.

It was a saint's day, so you needn't tend to the lord's fields. You started with checking on the coop, gathering eggs and letting out the chickens, carefully watching them for any injuries. You always had the best eye for the chickens, and could tell when one was getting aggressive and needed to be kept apart from the rest, or if the flock was panicked from some vermin invading in the night, and you had a hole to patch.

But the chickens mainly took care of themselves, so once the eggs were all gathered, you were out of work you liked. Breakfast was still hours away, and Father had asked you five times this week to clear out the mud and waste behind the house. You often lost track of time and task, getting frequent angry reminders of your unfinished duties.

The mixture of shit, mud, wastewater, and inedible foodstuff was a heaping, stinking pile. It needed to be moved away from the house, shovelled and carted to the wasteditch at the far end of the village.

Now your clothes were filthied with the waste, and you had to sweat and labour in the awful clothing while pulling yet more filth with you. You'd clean off in the evening, but that meant the rest of the day would be in these unbearable clothes. you wanted to at least take off your top, while it was still the dim of the early morning, and you were out of sight of mother.

You didn't. You had your hands full already and knew if you stopped now you'd find yourself in much trouble out of nowhere.

By the time you'd offloaded the last cart of waste, you felt the urge to break fast overtake you. These sensations had a way of not alerting themselves to you until they became unbearable.

Mother was cracking the eggs and mixing in some stalky greens that you could chew at for an hour and still not have broken down enough to properly swallow. You wished she hadn't added them to the eggs, but since you were out managing the mess you had left all week, you missed out on any chance to simply make your own meal.

A bowl of plain porridge accompanied the ruined eggs. You could never keep down the gagging sensation porridge caused you. Today was truly starting to be miserable.

Why did it seem no one else had such an aversion to these textures, or the burrowing eyes of strangers, or the blood chilling sound of cracking apart firewood? Where was this weakness of your mind coming from?

The rash at your leg was acting up, and as you mindlessly scratched at it, mother slapped your arm to stop you and spoke.

"Calf's done weaning and Lania's milk is still coming in.”

God's hooks, you felt burnt to pieces. You’d do anything to avoid spending the rest of the morning trying to milk that hellsent beast. It’d kicked you twice in the chest before, and bit you countless times as well.

“I also need you to churn it all before noon."

You were born at the wrong time. You’d do so much better as a citizen of the Roman Republic.

44 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#3

Stop saying that any one of the Trio is 'the magical girl'

Avery is the Traditional Slice of Life Magical girl, focused on relationship connections, has a girlfriend and a benevolent animal companion.

Lucy is the Dark Magical Girl, crashing against overwhelming forces of systemic oppression, has a series of morally gray mentors who she is slowly alienated from.

Verona is the Danny Phantom Magical girl, very casual about living in a state of inhuman undeath, spends all of her focus on avoiding her parents to instead enjoy her special powers.

52 notes - Posted June 17, 2022

#2

Today I saw the Simurgh used to illustrate a form of angel in a crypto-christian conspiracy short explaining the hierarchy of angels.

94 notes - Posted April 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I finally powered through and coloured/edited the Worm comic I did with @fipindustries

109 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[xx-justlikehoney]

writing prompt, oct. 4th - walks in the forest

They meant to make it to the trailhead well before the sun began its slow descent from the sky. The trees had already shed some of their leaves and the branches reached out into the gray sky like bony, gnarled fingers. 

It was quiet in this part of the mountains, and every snap beneath a boot or breath seemed to disappear into a vacuum once you stepped into the forest. Sam and Cassidy exited the car and pulled their bulging backpacks over their shoulders. The hike to the camp site was only a few hours; they had gone on longer journeys before in more relentless weather. Though the sky was overcast, the warmth of the sun could still be felt through the haze of clouds blocking out the blue.

“You two planning to stay the night?” A scruff looking man asked as he chewed on a lump of tobacco. He startled them, popping out of nowhere, appearing as if he’d just spent a week in the belly of the forest sleeping out in the open amongst the stars. 

“We’re hiking out to our campsite then staying a few nights,” Sam replied, clicking the two ends of the buckle on his pack together across his chest. 

The man nodded his head silently, turning to the side to spit.

“Remember, this land is older than you and me. If you hear somethin’ in there, no you didn’t. Keep your eyes on the trail and don’t wander off.”

Sam and Cassidy exchanged worried and confused glances, turn back to watch the man drift away down the path leading back to the main road. 

“What the hell was that about?” Sam asked as they crossed into the tree line.

“People around here have a lot of superstitions, you know, like spirits in the woods. Lore runs deep in these parts of the world; everyone has some story passed down a few generations.” Cassidy tried to shrug off the eery feeling permeating her skin, but Sam noticed how her body stiffened at the mention of spirits. 

“You mean like fairies and stuff?”

“Not exactly.”

Sam dropped the conversation, sensing it had come to an abrupt end. It was all tall tales, or at least that’s what he thought to himself as the sight of the parking lot moved further and further from view. He made a mental note to stop and double check his pack inventory before they traveled too far. The two of them had done this at least a dozen times, hiking through some of the most beautiful, remote parks in the country. The first few miles ticked by in near total silence.

“How far out are we?” Cassidy was the first one to break the silence.

Sam fished the folded map out from the side pocket of his backpack, turning it right side up to inspect their route, marked in red. 

“At this pace we should get to the camp site by five or six o′clock. Hopefully closer to five so we can get the tent up and cook dinner before the sun goes down.”

They slipped back into a not quite comfortable silence as Sam tucked the map back into its place. The woods were a peaceful escape for Cassidy, a place where the loudness of the world faded away for a little while. It was the disconnection from all those small things that chip away at you that drew her into the solitude of the woods. She hadn’t grown up with superstitious parents or distant family with tales of strange happenings, yet the old man’s words rattled around in her mind still. This land is older than you and me.

Sam’s watch read 4:52pm by the time they slid off their backpacks and began unloading their gear for the night. Cassidy got to work on the tent while Sam scanned the forest floor for firewood, working against the clock to secure a fire before the sunlight dwindled and the moon made her ascent into the sky. Sam had a tune stuck in his head, something his father used to sing around the house when he was young. It started as a hum while he worked and suddenly he was whistling along to the music in his head as he wandered further from camp in search of dry wood. 

“Hey Cassidy.”

She heard Sam somewhere close to her, not bothering to look up from her work. 

“Do you remember the first time we went camping together? You were so excited to show me the ropes because you didn’t realize I wasn’t new to all this, and I let you try to impress me.” Cassidy let out a small chuckle. A few moments passed with no response; she turned around to look for Sam and realized he wasn’t there. Her heart thumped up into her throat and got stuck there; she could feel every pulse all the way up into her ears. A twig snapped loudly somewhere near the campsite sending every hair on her body standing up on end. She got the distinct feeling there was someone out in the woods watching her.

“Cass, are you okay? It sounded like you were talking to someone.”

Sam’s sudden reappearance shook Cassidy. Her eyes went wide and her body was wracked with shivers.

“I got spooked being here on my own, it's nothing,” she lied. 

They finished setting up camp before dusk, taking the peppers and meat they prepped earlier out of Sam’s pack to make dinner. The temperature dropped into the fifties by night fall as they sat around the fire with their hands wrapped around mugs of hot cider. The darkness of the forest when the last remnants of daylight had gone was not something that had ever bothered either of them in the past. The tree canopy still sported tufts of leaves here and there, blotting out most of the moonlight. Cassidy couldn’t pull her eyes away from the blackness, searching for whatever was making her stomach turn sour. 

“You haven’t stopped looking into those trees since we sat down to eat.” Sam took another sip of cider and trained his eyes on Cassidy, hoping to coax the truth out of her.

“Earlier, when you were looking for wood, I heard your voice when I was putting the tent together. It sounded like you were right next to me, but when I turned around you weren’t there. Whatever is was, it sounded just like you.” Cassidy shrunk in her chair, pulling the blanket she’d wrapped around herself tighter as if making a cocoon.

“What do you mean whatever it was?” Sam gathered up the courage to ask the question he’d been rolling around on his tongue. “You’ve been thinking about what that old man said haven’t you?”

Cassidy nodded. It didn’t matter if all the stories of creatures roaming the woods were just that, stories, because the fear welling in Cassidy’s stomach was very real. She caught herself thinking of all the impossible things that turned out to be possible, and wondered what the odds were the same applied to elements of the supernatural. She didn’t want to find out.

When the embers of the fire burned down to a dim glow they decided it was time for bed. Sam doused the warm coals with water and listened for the hiss to die out before joining Cassidy in the tent. It was so dark inside he nearly tripped, cursing and clicking on the camping lantern.

“No, turn it out.” Cassidy frantically reached for the switch on the lantern to extinguish the light.

“What has gotten into you?” Sam zipped the tent closed and cozied into the sleeping bag.

“I was laying here while you were putting out the fire and I heard something.” Sam stared at Cassidy in the dark, and for the first time he noticed the silence outside. The woods were devoid of the sounds of chirping crickets and nocturnal critters rustling about through the leaves. Something brushed up against the nylon, circling the tent slowly. 

“Sam, I’ve missed you.” A male voice sounded from the other side.

Sam swallowed and nearly choked. 

“Who is that?” Cassidy asked, tightening the death grip she had on Sam’s hand.

“It sounds like my brother. He died five years ago.”