#((the fur they shed would absolutely be a nightmare to get out of...everything; really))

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Well...there isn't just one story of...the headless rider, i-in her culture, I mean," she began, avoiding the term "dullahan", as she knew such beings: She didn't imagine Philippe de Clair knew any Gaelic, but she wasn't about to run that risk either, wasn't about to tip him off to this mysterious culture she spoke so vaguely of.

"Sometimes the rider is on horseback, o-other times, it's a coach driver," she continued warily. "I-It drives out of a graveyard and rides through the night, silently...it carries with it a human spine it uses for a whip in one hand, and in the other, it's own rotted head..."

The description of its decaying head was a stomach-churning one to Susannah; even now just recalling it made her stomach quiver, made a shiver race up her spine as she remembered reading that passage over and over again as a child, trying to picture the grotesque sight in her little mind's eye:

"...such a head no mortal ever saw before. It looked like a large cream cheese hung round with black puddings: no speck of color enlivened the ashy paleness of the depressed features; the skin lay stretched over the unearthly surface almost like the parchment head of a drum. Two fiery eyes of prodigious circumference, with a strange and irregular motion, flashed like meteors..."

She once asked her father if he'd ever seen anything like that, and he admitted that he had, in some of the medical textbooks he studied in his youth, textbooks that featured detailed (and horrific) descriptions and illustrations of bodies in varying states of decay and preservation. He had those textbooks still, up in a trunk in his room, and it wasn't until Susannah was much, much older that she got to see illustrations for herself. They did not disappoint.

"I-It's a bad omen," she finished. "If it sees you, or you see it...you're as good as dead. It was one of my favorite stories, but it...it scared the devil out of me. I was always afraid I'd see it one night, looking out my window...

...and I knew, when Mr. Crane saw it in Sleepy Hollow, he would be dead before dawn."

She suppressed a shudder: She enjoyed both stories, both Mr. Irving's tale and the stories found within the pages of her mother's book of fables, but in terms of scare factor, the old Celtic tales had Irving beat by a country mile. His Headless Horseman was a sight to behold, but the dullahan that rode through the emerald countryside were far more frightening in her opinion.

[meanscarletdeceiver]

I've begun think about wanderlust James once again, and I have to wonder, how would Nobby react to James? Furthermore, I wonder if he intentionally didn't really try to get along with anyone else at other sheds so that when he left, he wouldn't really feel bad about it?

Also I just think it's funny that the furness lot think they've finally gotten rid of him after ejecting him off to No-Where, but he turns up back at Barrow a week later with the express in his dazzling new colors and the smuggest face in the world lol. +10 points if "NWR Red" is actually just Furness red that the LMS chucked out due to the grouping but the NWR stole took and gave to James just to rub salt in the wound lol.

Sooososososo THE THING YOU MUST UNDERSTAND ABOUT NOBBY AND JAMES goes back to F.R. culture. The F.R. is honestly a very solidly above-average home for an engine—there is a strong railway culture, the place is big enough that there's plenty of work and money (apart from massive downturns in the steel trade, lol) and at the same time it's small enough that Management (and Nobby) is pretty well aware of every engine, certainly of every shed.

But being small enough to have its own distinct culture and norms also means that it's small enough to, you know. Be stifling.

There are certain things that F.R. engines just Do Not Talk About. They don't even Mention. That no one ever says aloud. Things such as any resentment about the way humans have trained the engines to know their place (which will crop up a bit soon in Springtime). Things such as scrap and death (which will come up in the next story in the series). And this includes the patent reality that Nobby—or, at least, Management's idea of Old Coppernob, which is quite distinct from the Nobby under the mask—is held up to the engines as a role model, as the exemplar they should aspire to, and truly the engines do admire Coppernob, he's genuinely beloved... but, for all that, the whole static-preservation-under-glass thing is horrifying. The engines know this damn well. But—they are not going to let on. Expressing any pity for Nobby is unthinkable. Because he wouldn't take kindly to it, of course, but also because to acknowledge that Management's grandest reward for loyalty is a living nightmare just strikes at the heart of their entire society.

So, yeah. They're all nice, well-bred sort of engines who will never address the elephant in the room. (You can really see the continuity here with Edward believing that throwing out a "Peep peep! Hullo! 😊" to a miserable engine interred in a tunnel and then just moving on with your day is an absolutely normal and appropriate thing to do.)

Then you have James.

Who has no... okay, I actually think he has some filter, really. But he's completely outside of this unspoken conspiracy of polite silence. He's a deeply opinionated engine who hasn't been indoctrinated and who calls it like he sees it.

The moment he sees Nobby, he's basically like (and very loudly and shrilly) 'Okay but WHAT THE FUCK????? Jesus, Mary, and Lady, did you like KILL AN ENTIRE TRAIN OF PASSENGERS or something???? Bullshit this is an honour. Who the HELL did you piss off, mate??'

This instant violation of every norm they possess does not endear James to most of the F.R. engines, who are horrified at this display.

But Nobby himself?

The absolute almost hysterical breath of fresh air it is to have someone SAY IT.

Not that James won't get under his paintwork sometimes, but honestly Nobby can't help but respect like have a soft spot take a mild interest in the L. & Y. engine after that.

--

Haha. I don't think James was intentionally trying to alienate other engines. I think he just never really learned.

And I don't want to say James never had a friend, or at least another engine he was on decent terms with, before Sodor. But... it IS fair to say that he didn't have any good friends. Sodor taught him everything he knows about community. I actually have to give Gordon of all engines some credit here, because his bossiness actually made many of the unspoken and confusing rules of Getting Along with The Rest of the Community explicit to James for the first time ("Gordon thinks he knows everything," moans James, who had to be taught how to share and take turns and not ask unfamiliar engines why their face looks like that by Gordon over the course of the past 25+ years).

--

That is the funniest image. I don't think it went down quite like that, but it is funny.

I'm seeing it as a bit of a gradual process. I think James starts to gravitate towards Edward and Edward makes his brothers and cousins start tolerating James, but it all happens slowly since Edward is coming over-the-bridge only on occasion. But they have so much in common right now and I think Edward would have a lot of empathy for James's position—this is '24-'25 and Edward is fresh off his own experience of being despised in his own shed, and not quite being wanted anywhere, and having to prove himself and carve out a role for himself. (The line "Good! Don't let them beat you" is *such* an insight to their apparent friendship at the point of James's arrival.) So at the point where they get around to "you couldn't get me a trial on Sodor, could ya mate?" I don't think anyone is surprised. It's just so obvious that, if James belongs anywhere, it's on Insane Circus Misfit Island.

If N.W.R. red were actually Furness red (I'm not planning on going that way, but if it were), OMG, it would be a double insult to the Sharpies since they had to trade their F.R. red for L.M.S. black after Grouping. Salt in the wound. God, James is so good at making himself popular!

[thepoodlepack]

What's wrong with goldenpoodles? I'm genuinely curious because almost all of my dogs are mixed breeds and behave fine. So I'm curious if there's something else I'm missing

jeez this feels like bait but u kno what, you got me

alright, so it goes like this. the doodle really began with a guy in australia being like i need the temperament of a lab for a guide dog but these ppl are allergic to dogs, so i need a poodle bc they have hair, not fur. so he bred em together. years later he’s like damn that was a mistake.

now, why, exactly? alright so first of all he only needed that mix bc labs on average tend to adapt better to situations that are largely exclusive to service dog work than poodles do. i can go into what this means at a later date, but that’s basically how it is. but either way, people jumped on this creation and it kinda spiraled out of control. soon, poodles were being bred by everyone and every breed. suddenly, they were a marketing scam more then they were a dog breed.

oh theyre hypoallergenic! all of them, all the time cause zero allergies! look theyre so much better than poodles! theyre friendly and easy to train, not like poodles of course, just like labs! they’re better than labs bc none of them shed, ever! they’re super healthy bc breeding labs and poodles together wipes out all their health problems, of course!

lies, lies lies. the aussie guy, whose name i’m not going to look up bc i’m lazy but who you can find if you google creator of doodles, straight up says that even the first litter(s) of labradoodles he bred had puppies that the people he bred them for were allergic to. he very carefully tested the litter and the reaction the person had before placing a puppy that was not going to hurt them.

think of the punnet squares we all learned about in 5th grade science class. you draw the squares and one parent has two fur genes and the other parent has two hair genes and what do you get? well if you have four puppies, one might have hairhair and the next one might have hairfur and the next one might have furhair and the next one might have furfur. and so guess what? only hairhair pup is going to be the best choice for allergic people. additionally, you can see why the non-shedding thing can be bullshit, and that in particular is also a guessing game. you may be able to test allergy sufferers against the pups, but that does not necessarily mean they won’t shed. hairfur, for example, may be a good choice for some allergic people, but perhaps they’ve got just enough fur to shed anyway. also, lets look at salukis (and frankly, most long-haired sighthounds). salukis are still considered dogs with fur, not hair. they also still shed, even though it’s just a little. and yet they’re still considered good for allergy sufferers.

(ps poodles do actually shed. but they shed like humans shed. your hair comes out, doesn’t it? like, esp folks with long hair, aren’t people always complaining how you clog the shower drain? yeah, like that. ALSO obviously the situation is more complicated then super simple punnet squares and as an ex-groomer i have something to say about doodle coats but i’m going to save that for later, put a pin in it.)

oh and wait a hot minute there. i said best choice, didn’t i, not hypoallergenic. well, that’s because no dog is hypoallergenic. poodles, and a few other dog breeds, they have hair, like we do. but the thing is both humans and breeds with hair still produce the dander, though they’re different kinds. breeds with hair happen to produce the least amount possible that dogs can produce, which is why they’re a better choice for allergy sufferers, but that’s still not a guarantee. my roommate Dakota is allergic to dogs. if i don’t wash my dogs for an extended period of time (which has never happened, ever, in my life, idk what ur talking about), thus giving the chance for the dander my dogs still produce, he will have a very, very mild reaction when touching them. it can be countered by him washing his hands after touching them and also me just giving them a fucking bath, i need to stop forgetting, but still, there you go. ALSO people might not be allergic to dogs bc of their dander. they might be allergic to the saliva of dogs, which poodles or any other breed with hair still produces about the same as other dogs. so, yeah, not hypoallergenic, not at all.

the people who taut their hypoallergenic dogs for sale largely don’t do the testing required to check if they’re actually providing a dog to someone who won’t react to it. not acceptable at all.

so, labs are friendly and easy to train right? not at all like poodles, right? no. absolutely incorrect. some labs are friendly and easy to train. some labs, a lot of them when they’re puppies, are nightmare fuel. personally, i have a theory that everyone’s vision of labs in their heads are either a) service dogs or b) those old labs who are slightly pudgy (or morbidly obsess, which is a different topic) and who are graying in the face and just want to lounge around because they’re seniors now. alright, so here’s why thats bad. labs are a working breed. a retrieving breed. they’re supposed to be bulky and strong and driven. service dogs are highly trained, to a point that most pet dogs will never see, and if you see them with their actual disabled handler, they’ll probably be around 2.5 yrs of age and out of their most wild days. old labs are well. old. sleepy. maybe a bit achey. and well out of their most wild days. oh, and it’s the same type of thing with goldens by the way, the other most popular doodle type. poodles are also easy to train, especially if their parents have a decent temperament. they’re all about equal if you actually start training them when they’re puppies and just pay for some training classes, like everyone should. in the puppy classes i’m in right now, Euphoria is leaps and bounds ahead of doodles, goldens, and labs that are her age or older. I train her properly and she’s got amazing parents. that’s it, that’s the trick. not breed, not necessarily, and def not in this case.

I am once again going to say that labs and goldens are more often used as service dogs than poodles because of their adaptability, but it’s the ability to adapt to situations that most pet dogs will never have to worry about.

jeez this is a long post. i’ve still got more to cover too. alright, on to super healthy, or “hybrid vigor” as the nerds call it. uhh, it’s bullshit. thank u for ur time.

okay, but actually why on gods green earth would breeding two completely different breeds with little to no research make them super healthy? now i want to preface this with i’m (generally) pro-outcross projects. Euphoria’s dad is half mini poodle and half standard poodle, which isn’t technically an outcross bc all the variations are of the same breed, but if we’re going by genetic diversity alone minis and standards are different enough to actually be different breeds.

so, to be clear, outcrosses, given the proper thought and planning: good, results in healthier dogs (see: lua dals). randomly breeding two very different breeds together with no planning other than to sell the puppies to randos who won’t continue the outcross: bad. especially when you’re doing it to cash in and don’t health test at all, or don’t health test the major health problems with both breeds (if you’re doing an f2 breeding or anything like that). no the poodle’s health problems don’t get canceled out by the goldens or labs or whatever the other party’s health problems are, and vice versa. and yeah, i’ve looked at a lot of doodle breeder’s websites and yeah, most of them don’t health test at all, or at least don’t health test properly. do you know i own one doodle and currently live with another? yeah, i got them both from breeders and do you know how much health testing their parents got? if your answer is none, good job, you’ve been paying attention. in my defense, i was like 13, i didn’t know what i was doing.

alright, so those are the big points. this is kinda gonna be just... a mix of my other complaints. here we go, hope you’re ready for more. argument the first: i feel like it’s pretty disrespectful to reputable breeders. now, i actually have two reasons why that is. reason one: most reputable poodle breeders don’t want their breeding stock bred with other breeds, for various reasons. i’ve even met a few who used to be okay with it and then as the doodle scam got bigger and more out of control, they stopped being okay with it, even to the breeders who they had been fine with it in the past. that means a lot of doodle breeders out there have their breeding stock because they scammed poodle breeders into giving them pet quality, not breeding quality, dogs or because they’re getting their stock from non-reputable breeders. i also feel it’s disrespectful to breeders who are actually trying to create new breeds. quite frankly, a breed with the size, strength, and adaptability of a lab or golden that doesn’t shed and that has the train-ability of a poodle, lab, or golden sounds pretty interesting to me. did you know you can actually make that breed? and it wouldn’t be a cross with unpredictable... well, everything. it would actually be a true dog breed.

Look at Silken Windhounds and Biewer Terriers who began both development in the 1980s. Biewer Terriers were recognized by the AKC this year, and Silken Windhounds still haven’t been. And yeah, that’s the problem isn’t it? Making a real new breed takes a lot of time, planning, and care. People would rather just cash in. I think it’s sad and I think it’s disrespectful to the breeders who do work so hard to make actual new breeds.

and finally, unpin being an ex-groomer goddamnit. guess what? doodles are awful to groom! they’re terrible on the grooming tables because people want to have in both ways: they want a dog that doesnt shed at all and they want a dog who doesn’t need to be groomed. well guess what, that dog doesn’t exist and you can have it only one way. and also, bring back the goddamn punnet squares because a lot of doodles have awful coats. if you have hairfur and furhair over there, guess what, their coat fucking sucks bc it’s not meant to be like that. it wants to mat bc hair but also it wants the mats to slide out bc short-ish fur but its too thick for the mats to slide out bc thick hair. and yes its more complicated then this and that means its often more awful then this. its awful, it makes me want to cry. and maybe it’s slightly easier to get away with it with a shorthaired dog like a lab, or, you know what, even a golden, okay, even a slightly long haired dog like a golden but people are doodling akitas? border collies? bernese fucking mountain dogs? i am crying. i am crying right now as i type this.

lets do a sum up to this disaster of a post. look, i don’t go out there attacking or yelling at every doodle or every doodle owner i see, alright? or any of them really. i might engage in conversation to one that’s interested, but that’s it. i love my doodly Isis, okay? shes tiny and she’s adorable and I love her more than life and i will never, ever get another doodle. i don’t like the way they’ve gotten so prolific, i don’t like the reasons they’re now widespread, and i don’t like almost all of the people that create them, including the ones i’ve literally given my (parents) money to in the past. i wish they were better but i just cannot approve of them, especially not in the environment they exist in now. that said, i do support them in their original use case as assistance dogs, and i do not care about them if they’re shelter dogs.

[kerra-and-company]

spiral

The first three months after Zhaitan’s defeat. (Or, the story of how the person widely considered “the best at emotions” was once absolutely horrible at managing her own.)

Warnings: depression, self-harm (in a very Kerra-specific way), feeling worthless, cognitive distortions (Kerra gets an idea into her head that is just...inaccurate)

Word count: 4466

I’ve been trying to work on this fic for a while, and it’s been really hard because Kerra’s my OC whose mental health issues are closest to my own. But it’s done now, and I’m sure it’s not perfect, but I’m proud of it, and it means a lot to me. So, here you go; hopefully this speaks to someone else, too.

(and @mystery-salad because forever ago you mentioned that you’d be interested in seeing this fic concept if I ever wrote it!)

It happened in the span of a single moment.

Trahearne had finally, finally joined the party. Rel had gotten his lute from who knows where and was taking song requests. Destiny’s Edge was talking and laughing, and she even saw Caithe smile. Everywhere Kerra looked, her friends and the rest of the Pact were drinking, chatting, relaxing, or dancing.

And, for once, no one was watching her.

So she tilted her head back, letting the sun and confetti (who brought confetti?) cover her face, giggling at the unfamiliar touch of colorful paper scraps. She spun around, arms outstretched and eyes closed and, miraculously, managing not to hit anyone.

It was pure, utter joy combined with I’m done, I did what I was made for, I’m done and I can just be me—

Kill the dragon.

Kerra stumbled. That couldn’t be right. Zhaitan was dead, and her Hunt was—

Kill the dragon, her mind insisted.

The world didn’t stop. It would have been easier if it had. Instead, the celebration continued, with laughter and Rel’s music as omnipresent noise.

It took everything in her not to scream.

****

The Pact wanted to lift her up on a pedestal for what she’d done. And she didn’t deserve it, so she had to leave.

She wrote notes to each of her friends and left them near their things, going mostly unnoticed as she slipped out of the party. Thank you for everything you’ve done, she said. I am going to where I can help the most, and that’s not here right now. I’ll come back.

I love you.

****

Her first stop was Caledon.

Cern was pleased to see her and told her stories of his new recruits taking down a particularly large troll in the swamps. Tatli and Cueyatl welcomed her into the Hazupl camp, and a few sylvari were there, too, talking to the hylek young. Llew gave her updates on Astorea—the defenses were holding, though Nightmare Court attacks had increased of late.

The only place she stayed overnight, though, was the Weeping Isle. Eona hugged her, congratulated her, and asked after Rel. She gave bare-bones information, took care of some wave riders, and fell asleep in the same guest room she’d taken earlier that year.

In her dreams, she walked a bloody battlefield, utterly alone. She saw so many dead faces, along with the living who mourned their losses. With each one she spotted, a memory flashed. Minei and Cio screaming and fighting to get back into the fortress on Claw Island. Ceera calling her “Commander of death.” Elli’s expression as she tore into the Risen marksman. Tybalt imploring her to trust him. Trahearne asking the Pale Tree for forgiveness as they closed the gate to Fort Trinity. The hate in Tiachren’s eyes slowly turning to fear as he died.

And above it all, the incessant drumbeat of this is your fault, your fault, your fault. You were Commander and this wasn’t what you were meant for and so every death is on your head and yours alone because you made a mistake. You pursued the wrong Hunt, and you will look at what you’ve done.

The land and the bodies went up in smoke, and she welcomed the flames even as she burned, too.

Come morning, Eona found Kerra’s bed neatly made and the Commander herself long gone.

****

In Kessex, the bandits put a price on her head.

In Sparkfly, the krait learned to flee from her on sight.

In Brisban, the Inquest cursed her as their labs exploded.

Sometimes, those she helped asked for her name. She began introducing herself as Lin. It felt…maybe not right, but right-adjacent, and it gave her a sense of distance.

Sometimes, they asked her to stay—an asuran krewe who appreciated her particular brand of dragon expertise, a rough-edged gladium who saw a kindred spirit, and a small human boy who watched her train the Claypool militia with wide eyes, to name a few.

She never stayed more than a few days. It tore her apart each time.

She slept less and less.

****

Felix worried more about her with every passing day.

Kerra could feel it, and she wished he wouldn’t, but she didn’t have the words to calm him.

“You can leave, dearheart, if this is too much,” she said once, softly. “You can leave if…if I’m too much.”

Not too much, never, Felix insisted, bumping his head into her thigh and letting out a deep purr. But you’re hurt. I want to help.

“You can’t.” It came out too sharp, and they both winced. “It’s…I’m not scratched, or stabbed, or corrupted. I didn’t break a bone.” I wish I had. I wish this pain was visible. I wish I had scars for all of them.

Some nights, she considered giving herself those scars.

That doesn’t make you not hurt, Felix insisted.

Kerra had nothing to say except but I deserve it, and she knew Felix wouldn’t want to hear that. So, she just pulled him onto her lap and against her chest, burying her face in his fur, eyes dry.

****

Her thoughts wouldn’t stop chasing each other in circles. Her Wyld Hunt pulsed at the back of her mind constantly, like the beginning of a headache.

Kill the dragon.

WHICH dragon? she’d scream back. It never answered, no matter how many times she asked.

But she could function on two hours of sleep a night. She could fight. She could help.

That’s all that mattered.

****

She stopped at the Black Citadel for provisions. She’d intended to avoid Rytlock, but one of his subordinates spotted her at a vendor’s stall and (as politely as possible) dragged her to his office.

“Commander!” Rytlock said, happily standing up and pushing his paperwork to the side. “Thought you were back at Fort Trinity.”

“I was,” Kerra said, just a little too shortly. “I’m on my way to Hoelbrak.” Not entirely false; she was indeed heading in that general direction.

“On foot?” Confusion. “You didn’t waypoint or take an airship?”

“I wanted to take the scenic route.” A small smirk, and, again, not entirely a lie.

“Fine by me.” Rytlock grinned, his smile very full of teeth. “Don’t suppose you’d care to help me take out a Flame Legion post before you leave?”

“I’d be happy to,” Kerra said, smiling back and inclining her head before turning on her heel and walking out the door. Felix followed close behind.

“Commander!” Rytlock shouted after her. He muttered something about “I was saying we’d go together,” but Kerra was halfway down the stairs by then and barely heard him.

The outpost was empty within three hours. Kerra was gone in four.

****

She’d stopped shielding her mind somewhere along the line. She couldn’t remember exactly when.

Emotions swirled through her, positive and negative and in-between. Most of them left, but their imprints remained.

She kept fighting. She kept killing, when necessary, and the pain grew and grew and grew. Her burden. Hers. Deserved, she thought.

She racked up invisible scars by the thousands.

****

As much as she told herself the pain was necessary, it also was exhausting—which is how she got her first serious injury since leaving Orr, forcibly bringing her spiral to a halt.

She was at Victor’s Point with a man named Gareth and his three children. Said children had performed some sort of ritual to summon a bear. The ritual instead managed to summon several dozen bears, and soon the homestead was overrun.

While Felix helped Gareth take down a particularly large bear, Kerra heard a scream from the nearby shed and whipped around, running as fast as her legs would carry her across the snow.

A child she hadn’t met yet, a small one with short white-blond hair, was cowering under a workbench. They held a pen in their right hand like a dagger, jabbing it in the direction of yet another bear trying to stick its head under the table. It growled at them, showcasing its set of sharp teeth.

Not wanting to risk hitting the child, Kerra unsheathed her dagger and leaped on top of the bear. But she’d underestimated its ferocity and overestimated her remaining strength, and it threw her off, slamming her into the stones of the nearby fireplace.

Holding her head, she tried to get up, but its claws gauged deep marks across her chest, and she dropped her dagger at the sudden spasm of pain. She scrambled backwards, shielding the child with her own body as they screamed. Felix roared somewhere in the distance.

She struggled to stay conscious as the bear reared up on its hind legs, trying to figure out if she could muster up enough energy to kick it in the stomach. But she didn’t have to.

A blue shield appeared around her—guardian magic, she thought deliriously. Logan? The mace that whacked the bear in the head was decidedly not Logan’s, though, and Logan wasn’t that tall, and his skin wasn’t that dark. But whoever this was, the child was safe.

“Hey, stay awake!” a voice called out urgently as her eyes slid shut. She heard a distinct crack in it and felt the owner’s concern for her. Funny, she thought in an unappreciated moment of irony, for them to care so much about someone they’ve never met.

****

Kerra must have dreamed, then, but all she remembered was what woke her up—yet another whisper of kill the dragondeep in the back of her mind.

She sat up with a jolt, nearly whacking her head on the beams above her.

Her savior was talking in hushed tones to Gareth nearby, but whatever they were saying was immediately drowned out by Felix, who meowed loudly and started purring at the top of his lungs. He gently butted his head against her shoulder. Thank you for staying. Don’t leave.

“I’m—” she coughed, clearing her throat and trying to ignore what felt like the worst headache of her life. “I’m okay, ‘Lix, I’m okay, I’m still here.” She gently laid a hand on his flank, and he turned his head and licked it with his rough tongue, making her laugh weakly and then wince as the action sent a flare of pain through her body.

“You sure you’re okay?” her mysterious savior said, approaching her bedside. “You hit your head pretty hard.”

“I heal fast,” Kerra said, meeting their eyes. They were tall, but their face was young. “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem,” the tall child said. “I’m Braham, he/him. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lin. She/her is fine. It’s nice to meet you, too.” A memory slotted into place, and she gasped, frantically looking around for her weapons. “Are the children all right? How long was I unconscious?”

“Easy!” Gareth said, holding his hands up in a calming gesture as he approached. “Yes, all the children are safe, and you were only out for about an hour or so.” He coughed meaningfully, and a snow-blond head peeked out from around his legs. “Mikkel is a bit shy, but he wanted me to thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mikkel,” Kerra said, her eyes softening as they met the child’s. “You were very brave, you know.”

The boy squeaked and hid again behind his father’s legs. Gareth just laughed. “I daresay he was! But that thanks comes from me as well, young one. We were lucky to have you with us today.”

“The thanks is appreciated, but unnecessary, Gareth,” Kerra replied, dipping her head a few inches. When she lifted it back up—slowly, struggling against the pounding in her head—she found Braham looking at her curiously. But he shook his head, seemingly dislodging whatever thought he’d had, and nodded.

“I’m glad you’re okay and that I could help, but I gotta get going,” he said, standing up.

“Where are you headed?” Kerra asked, leaning back slightly against the pillows.

“Hoelbrak,” Braham answered, frowning. “I need someone to help me defend my hometown, Craigstead—it’s been invaded by some group calling themselves the Molten Alliance. I figured asking Knut Whitebear was worth a shot.”

Kerra frowned, too, both at Braham’s words and at the implication of his tension and fear. “Who else did you ask?” And why didn’t you try Hoelbrak first?

“Tribune Brimstone. He didn’t believe me.”

“What didn’t he believe?”

Braham’s face closed, but she could feel his flare of anger; it wasn’t directed at her, though, not really. “With all due respect, sylvari, it’s not really your business—”

“I know Rytlock,” Kerra interrupted, ignoring Gareth’s shock and the way Mikkel’s eyes lit up. And though the last thing she wanted was to go back to Rytlock or any of her friends and hurt them again… “I can help; I’ve convinced him to get off his…behind…before. Let me help. What didn’t he believe? That your town was under attack?”

She could tell Braham wasn’t quite convinced that she was being honest, but he sighed and shrugged. “That, and the fact that my full name is Braham Eirsson. My mother—” He said the word with a disgust Kerra didn’t understand. “—is Eir Stegalkin.”

Kerra blinked. “Your mother is who?”

Braham crossed his arms. “You heard me.”

“No, I did, and I believe you—sorry. I just…” She trailed off, took a breath, and continued. “I know your mother, too, then. And I’m aware that I can’t move much at the moment, but if Whitebear doesn’t agree to help you, come back and find me. Either I’ll convince someone to help you, or I’ll do it myself.”

Surprise mixed with persistent disbelief and gratitude. “Okay, then. You’re an odd one, Lin.”

She laughed, dry and short, absorbing the flicker of pain that came with it. “So I’ve heard.” As he headed to the door, she added, “You better come back and at least let me know how things go, okay?”

It was Braham’s turn to laugh, though his was more sincere. He did a goofy half-bow-half-salute and said lightly, “You’ll be on my way, so sure thing, boss.”

****

Kerra wanted to leave. Gareth and his wife and his children were absolutely lovely, and she didn’t deserve any of it. But she was trapped in bed, healing. Careless.

She slept most of the time, waking up only to eat and pet Felix and thank Mikkel for bringing her water. Part of her wished she could just stay asleep, and part of her was absolutely desperate to move, to get out, to go anywhere but here where she was a burden and could do nothing. Always, constantly, back and forth.

I need to move.

You can’t.

I need to help.

You can’t do that, either.

I need to be worth something.

But you’re not.

I need you to shut up.

But I won’t.

I…I need my friends. And I need Trahearne and Caithe.

But you left them. They’re probably all angry with you.

You don’t know that.

And even if they’re not, you don’t deserve them.

…

Am I wrong?

****

On her fourth day at Victor’s Point, Kerra received a visitor.

Raised voices outside woke her. She rolled over to face the door, bringing her knees closer to her chest under the blankets.

“—asked you to state your business, sylvari.” Gareth’s voice. He was on edge and slightly angry.

“And I told you, I’m looking for Kerra. Is she here or not?”

Kerra’s eyes flew open in shock and recognition.

“There is no one by that name staying here,” Gareth replied. “I strongly suggest you try the next homestead.” A feeling of preparedness, as if his hand was on the hilt of his weapon.

Before she could think it through, Kerra called out, “Nisha?”

A brief scuffle and a shout, and the door banged open. Nisha’s clothes looked wrinkled, though still passably clean, and xe stood as tall as ever. And xe was scared and upset and relieved and so many other things that Kerra didn’t have the brainspace to work through.

Felix, however, didn’t have that problem. He leapt forward, and a very startled Nisha caught him in xyr arms. Xe stumbled backward into Gareth, who burst out laughing, animosity gone.

“Well, all right then! Lin, I see you know this person. Is it fine if I leave you two…” He glanced at a very loudly purring Felix, eyes twinkling. “Or you three to catch up?”

Nisha’s gaze caught hers and locked in, like the sight on one of xyr rifles.

Say yes.

Say no.

Say yes.

Say no. Say NO.

“Yes,” Kerra choked out, quiet but audible.

“Wonderful! I’ll be outside if you need me.” The door softly clicked shut behind him.

Silence for a few beats. Three, two, one.

Kerra took a deep breath and straightened, sitting up fully. “Hey,” she said tentatively.

Nisha gently set Felix down, a fierce edge in xyr eyes. Felix curled up next to the bed, eyes darting between the two.

“Hey?” Nisha repeated incredulously. “Hey?!”

Kerra flinched, and Nisha snapped xyr mouth shut with an audible click. When xe spoke next, xyr tone was flat. “Where have you been, exactly?”

“Helping people,” was all Kerra could say.

Nisha exhaled, frustration seeping off xem in waves. “My apologies. I should have phrased that better. Why did you leave Fort Trinity?”

“To help people,” Kerra repeated, helplessly.

“Why couldn’t you help people there?! I-I—” Nisha’s face twisted, though Kerra could see xem struggling to hide it. “You left us! And you didn’t say where you were going, not even to Trahearne or Caithe or my brother.” Xyr hand clenched into a fist, gripping and bunching up the fabric of xyr pants.

She had let them down. They were mad—at least Nisha was, and if xe was, probably everyone else was, too. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she started, “I’m s—”

“Do you have ANY idea how SCARED we were?!” Nisha shouted.

Kerra’s world screeched to a halt.

Wait. What?

“We could have lost you, and we would have had no way of knowing! You could have died, or disappeared, and none of us would have been able to do anything to stop it! We were terrified for you! And not because you’re not capable,” xe added hastily, brushing away tears on xyr own cheeks, and she’d made Nisha cry, she’d done that to xem, she’d hurt xem— “You are perhaps the best fighter I’ve ever met. That doesn’t mean you can’t die.”

Something cracked in Kerra’s heart.

“Why do you—what about all the people who died because of me?” she shouted back, her voice breaking. She threw herself out of bed and onto her feet, the blankets falling in a disorganized tangle behind her. “What about them?”

“What—we were fighting an Elder Dragon! People were going to die!” Both of Nisha’s fists were clenched now. “And I hate that, but it’s the truth! If you’re saying that you think we could have made it all the way to Zhaitan with no casualties—”

“No, no, I’m not, I—all their deaths are my fault!” Kerra’s tone made Felix’s ears flatten, and she ignored Nisha’s rush of utter shock. “I don’t understand why you’d want to find me!”

“Why in Tyria would they all be your fault?” Xyr brow furrowed, and xe took one step towards her. “I disagree with the basic principle, but even if the deaths were entirely on the Pact leadership, shouldn’t they also be Trahearne’s—”

“NO!”

“Why not?!”

“BECAUSE I WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE THE COMMANDER!”

The room went dead silent. Kerra abruptly realized she was breathing hard and sat down on the edge of her bed.

“I was given a Wyld Hunt to fight and kill a dragon, Nisha,” she said, staring down at her hands. “The Pale Mother and Caithe both told me that the dragon was Zhaitan, but it clearly wasn’t, because Zhaitan is dead, and my Wyld Hunt is very much still there. Which makes this the wrong path for me, and therefore every action I’ve taken that’s led to where we are, with so many dead, is my fault. I should have figured out I was targeting the wrong dragon, I should have done better, I should have…” She trailed off, overwhelmed.

Silence again. When Kerra looked up, she met Nisha’s eyes, staring directly into hers. Sadness. Anger. Frustration.

Xe cleared xyr throat twice before speaking. “You write your own future, Ker. You’re not beholden to that one.”

“But Mother told me—”

“Mothers can be WRONG!” The fabric of Nisha’s coat tore with a soft ripping sound. But just like with Braham, the anger wasn’t directed at Kerra.

“I was given this Hunt by the Dream!”

“Shoots and thorns!” Nisha yelled, xyr voice cracking. “Why are you so certain you chose wrong, that you made some sort of mistake? You can still complete your Hunt! You can go after all the dragons! And you know why you have that option?” Desperation. Determination. “Because of everything you’ve done, because you’re the Commander, whether or not your Mother and the Dream originally thought you should be! You took down Zhaitan! You proved that Elder Dragons can be defeated, and now you don’t have to fight them alone!”

Xe took a deep breath. “Yes, people died, and it’s horrible.” New tears pooled in xyr eyes. “I…I still miss Sieran. But their deaths are not all your fault, and you saved so many lives, too, and…and I brought these.”

Xe shrugged off xyr pack and fiddled around inside it, pulling out a stack of papers and dropping them on Kerra’s lap. She just blinked.

Nisha sighed, more out of frustration with xemself than with Kerra. “Can you just look at them, please?”

Kerra spread out the papers, making sure to catch a few stray sheets before they fell to the floor.

They were notes, every single one of them written in a different hand. In a quick scan, Kerra saw Caithe’s graceful but clear cursive, Elli’s “i's” dotted with little hearts, and Minei’s deliberately blocky print. She looked back up at Nisha.

“What…what are these?”

“It was Rel’s idea,” xe said, now looking anywhere but Kerra. She could feel xem trying to rein in xyr emotions, though it was a bit late for that. “You gave us all some, so he thought that, if I could find you, I should give you some from all of us.”

Words upon words upon words. Her eyes were drawn to them as if by a magnet.

From Demmi: Thanks for believing in me.

From Cio: You saw past the fire, and you’re one of the few.

From Trahearne: You are the reason I didn’t give up, little sister.

From Shashoo: Quaggan believes in you, Commander!

From Riel: You do good work, agent. Keep it up.

From Elli: Keep fighting, Kerry. You’re damn good at it.

From Minei: They’re not saying why we’re writing these, but you better come back so I can thank you in person.

From Caithe: You showed me new purpose, Valiant. Thank you.

From Rel: You’re my best friend, Ker, and I love you. Stay safe.

And there were more, from soldiers she’d talked to once or sparred with or comforted, and some from people she’d never met. They said thank you and you led us to victory and you saved me and you were a friend when I needed one and many, many variations.

Nisha coughed, and when xe spoke, xyr voice was thick. “I didn’t write one. I’m not a writer. But thank you, Kerra. You’re the third friend I’ve ever made, and I’m so glad I met you.”

“Can I hug you?” Kerra blurted, nearly cutting xem off. She didn’t expect xem to say yes, but she desperately hoped—and then the notes were being carefully placed on the desk, and Nisha was next to her on the bed with xyr arms around her, and Felix was purring loudly from his spot on the floor as he told her I love you, too.

Kerra hugged xem back tightly, hiding her face in xyr shoulder, and they stayed that way until both their shirts were soaked with tears.

****

An indeterminable amount of time later, Kerra pulled away, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I can’t do this on my own, you know,” she said, the corner of her mouth pulling upwards. I can’t go back alone. I won’t feel better if I’m alone. I need help, and I need my friends, and maybe that’s okay for me, too, just like it’s okay for everyone else. She met Nisha’s eyes. “Will you stay with me?”

“I just found you,” Nisha said, quiet but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Kerra smiled in earnest, then. “Good. Because you can’t do this alone, either.”

“I beg your pardon?” Nisha said, eyebrows raising. Surprise. Indignance. Acceptance.

“Neither of us are okay,” Kerra said, thinking of Nisha shouting about mothers (and Nisha shouting at all, when xe always stayed so composed). “And we have other people—other friends, our siblings—but…” She felt her glow flare, warming her face. “I’ll help you, when you need it, and you’ll help me when I need it. That’s the deal.”

“I wasn’t aware we were making a deal.” Amusement. Warmth.

Kerra dipped her head slightly, never breaking eye contact. “We are.” Her smile grew. “You know,” she said cheekily, “you really shouldn’t question your Commander—”

“You are aware that I’m not technically part of the Pact, right?” Nisha interrupted.

It was barely even a joke, but it shattered whatever tension remained. Kerra burst into slightly broken (but still genuine) laughter, the calm after the storm. She felt Nisha’s happiness and saw xyr grin, and it pushed back the flood farther.

It was just enough. For the first time in weeks, she pulled up her shields, shutting the world’s emotions out. It was a relief and a letting go, and she almost started crying again, but Nisha’s presence held her together.

She was far from okay—the drumbeat of it’s all your fault and the Hunt’s repetition of kill the dragon were still very much there in her head. But people cared about her. She had proof of that, though she still didn’t understand it. She was important to them, so she had to keep herself safe.

Maybe someday she’d be able to do that just for herself.

For now, she’d take the help, and she’d start to heal. And when Braham came back, she’d leave, with Nisha.

But it was all right to stay here, just for now. She was safe, and she was loved.

And she felt like she was home.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

April Contest Submission #27: Chocolate is love.

Words: ca. 2100 Setting: canon Lemon: no CW: Borderline insanity, helplessness, regret, angst

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

I lurch upright up to the harsh sound of pounding on my wooden door.

Door pounding. Head pounding. Heart pounding.

The steady pitter-patter of rain calms me to think. I slow my thoughts trailing with fleeting tails of dreams.

I let out a held breath and grip the bedsheets below me, my current lifeline to reality. The faint sound of thunder mocks my dreariness from afar.

My mind is swirling in subconsciously concocted memories from another existence, one where I relive the daunting past endlessly. In all my omnividence of every dream, I saw no way to avoid the inevitable. I hurt her.

Fear overwhelms me in every dream. Fear that I could not control my powers, I told myself. (Cursed with these powers—I lied to whom?) 

But I know the truth. Truly, it was frightening, envisioning an event where I could not control—my powers. Myself. Fear that I would make a mistake. Fear that I would hurt Anna.

But I know Anna loves me.

I dream of the past, a harmful, distressing past. I wake up to the present, secluded as to not relive history. But I avert my gaze from the future.

Sleep never was easy and never lasted long. Insomnia, the books called it; writers made it sound like a disease, something I could cure. Can you cure one who inflicts pain upon themself?

Initially, I attempted to prevent nights like these: Keeping the room fully lit. Asking Kai to wake me at the slightest stir. Resting my head on a stack of pillows. Being so tightly wound in furs—and fears—that I could not release myself. But sincerely, I knew that these physical actions would not be a remedy.

And, like every night, the familiar realization hits, bittersweet, like the final note of a perfectly played piano composition.

Awake or asleep, I can never escape the nightmares. 

A muffled sniff, and then repressed sob. As always, the dismal sounds originated from the figure outside the door.

Why does she come to me? I rarely spoke to her, and if ever, I drive her away. This girl lacks discouragement.

Does she know Elsa loves her?

Because I truly do. With all my heart. Not once have I stopped loving her. But how would she know?

Why do I look forward to her visits? Because I know Anna loves me. Thunderstorms, cloud, snow, and a slight drizzle—my migraine grows with my ambivalence towards allowing myself to love Anna.

She cries outside my door time after time, so often that it has always felt peculiarly familiar. And yet my dreams always manage to reflect my current state of mind, like a warped mirror would display its host in a cloudy, grotesque light. But I took it for truth. What else could I do, other than hurt people? What else could I be, other than—

The room flickered with lightning, and thunder followed—the inevitable boom and rumble, louder than the last. When lightning strikes, thunder follows. No power of man can stop this action of nature. The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside my mind, my heart. The rain, indifferent to the turmoil, poured harder, attempting to drown out the cracking noise of its older brother, thunder. Her crying continued. 

The queen, stoic, impassive, erudite, didn’t not care. I really did care, and believe I still do care. But my act must remain phlegmatic as ever, to stay strong. I shed not a single tear. Fear would lead to fragility, and I could never, would never face the shattering impact. I absolutely cannot give in. If I were to make that single mistake, consequences would follow with terrifying repercussions. Papa, is there no other way?

Conceal.

“Elsa… I’m scared,” came a trembling voice from the door—nonetheless, a voice sweet as honey, but tainted with fear. A voice as heartwarming as the fire of a blazing furnace, capable of warming an entire castle. But tonight, the fire faltered.

My sister was frightened. Presumably because of the storm. But why come to me of all people? Because we are biologically related and supposed to comfort each other?

“Please, Elsa, just let me in…”

I didn’t budge. I never did. But yet this charmingly frowzy-haired, stubborn girl was almost, dare I think, adorable. But in time, she would make her way back up to her room, undoubtedly hurt by her older sister. When lightning strikes, thunder follows.

Yet I always considered that one forbidden possibility…

I can’t. She would be even more hurt if I opened that door.

Did she want in to comfort me? Did she think I was frightened? Are her motives of selflessness, while I wanted her in out of selfishness?

But I know Anna loves me.

Head pounding. Heart pounding. Door pounding.

Anna was furious or in terrible distress. Rarely did she ever pulverize my door as she did now. My concern rose as swiftly as my ice spread across the room.

And with a resounding crack, I heard her sweet voice, corrupted with insanity.

“—this goddamn door! Elsa! Let me in!”

My concern turned into terror. Anna never resorted to such violence, not even with a slab of wood. Was something wrong? Is Anna (physically) hurt? Have I done something (unusually) wrong?

I wait. Hold my breath. Count to ten. Pray that Hell or Heaven lets me in.

I briskly stood up due to the lack of noise on the opposite side. Why is she so irrational today? My heart—bursting through my chest; my head—imploding due to my overwhelming thoughts. Please be okay, Anna.

I took a few steps away from my bed.

Head pounding. Heart pounding. Yet the door remains silent!

I quickened my pace. She needs me.

Suddenly, the most wretched sound reached my ears. Disturbed my mind. A whisper of a broken, fractured, wounded, “…please…”

And I stumbled. Inadvertently, I had tripped over my own fears and hit the ground hard. And the world darkened. Thunder chuckled.

And fear took the liberty to enter my head.

It’s hard to mask the pain.

Acting as a queen is not easy.

I push it away.

Pain.

I’m content, am I not?

The floor inflicts pain.

My head is topped with pain.

A flurry of emotions.

My thoughts bring pain.

My heart twists with…agony.

Shallow breaths. I know Anna loves me.

Days in the snow.

Memories.

Sledding over a mound.

Clarity.

The fjord where we snuck off to skate.

Slippery.

She giggles. The laugh is soft, squishy.

My feeble hands yank at my hair.

Why must I feel misery?

I desperately claw at the floor. 

Why do I partake in a horrifying state of mind?

Teeth gnashing. Breaths shallow.

Suffering.

Why do I speak when my words are blood?

I am vile.

Why do I think when all my thoughts bring pain?

Make it stop. Stop.

Why do I breathe when my breaths are knives, in my lungs, in my heart?

I beg for numbness.

Why do I live?

All I feel is anguish. I can’t take it.

Why do I love?

Screaming,

they can’t get to me,

they can’t get to me.

They can get to her through me.

It really does hurt.

Does she bring hurt?

She likes warm hugs.

I like warm hugs.

I push her away because I don’t like warm hugs.

No.

I push her away because I hate

myself.

Distress.

And a deep, choking gasp. But I know Anna loves me.

Separation 

Conceal. 

is agony.

Loneliness

Get up.

is agony.

Self-hatred 

Don’t feel. 

is agony.

Chocolate

No.

is

AGON—

No!

The eye of the storm. I splintered, wrecked, like a chandelier of ice crashing on the ground.

Tears streamed down my face. Depressingly pudding on the floor, like a storm that would not cease its melancholic precipitation. Eyes tightly closed, jaw clenched shut. My pathetic form writhed on the floor.

I did not shriek. I did not wail.

I silently shattered. I could not let her know I was suffering. Nonetheless, I needed to feel warmth from an embrace. From Anna. Do I really know Anna loves me?

For the first time in my life, I was cold.

I longed for the feel of her arms around me. I shivered. Wrapping my arms around me I shook. With the cold, with fear, with sorrow. Getting up is difficult.

“Elsa… I’m sorry for anything. Whatever I did, please forgive me.”

I speak, in my mind. If only I could tell her. You’re not hurting me. You’re the only thing keeping me grounded to the world. I’m only still living because I believe Anna loves me.

Her voice cracking, “I-I know you don’t even care about me—” a sniff, “—or if you’re even listening to what I’m saying right now.”

Anna… you couldn’t be more wrong. I care about you because…I know Anna loves me…?

“I came tonight as my last chance. To see if I was wrong.” A depressing chuckle, as twisted as a deliberately wound rope.

Her final plea at Gethsemane.

“I wasn’t.”

A long sigh. The turmoil of rain slowed, softened.

“I want the best for you. Don’t…don’t worry about me…” a sob. “I want you to live your life. Leave yourprison of a room. If you won’t see your own sister, at least…please…”

She slowed her breath, calmed herself, and controlled her thoughts and words.

“If I leave your life, will you be happy?”

No. I’m not hiding from you. I’m hiding myself from you… I know Anna loves me, right?

Selfish as it was, I needed her to say it.

“I-I know I’m a burden, and I just want you to be happy.” A breath as sharp as a knife—I hear it tainted, corrupted. “You’ll never have to see me again. Ever. Kristoff will take me somewhere far.

"And if somewhere deep inside, you do care about me…don’t feel bad for me. At least you won’t have to be hurt…”

A pound of a heart.

“…when I’m away from you.”

No. She wouldn’t leave me. I need to know if Anna loves me.

It was a struggle. Like starting a fire on wet lumber. I manage to pathetically whisper, “Please…say it…out loud.”

She didn’t hear. I need to know. I need to know before anything. 

I know—

“Know I loved you Elsa.”

A strike to my heart.

Her tears fell to the floor like blood dripping from a fresh wound. Dripping, dripping…

A pause on her end. She was waiting for something, for anything, a sign that I even heard her.

And I would not respond. What could I do? Open the door and destroy everything I had struggled to attain, nested in this room for years for?

Her footsteps receded into the vast expanse of the castle. She was a tiny speck in Arendelle. She believed she was a minute portion of worthless life in the entire world. Because of me.

And realization hit for the second time tonight. My eyes snapped open with absolute terror. For once in my life, I had to look to the future. If I didn’t act, Anna would not be there to love me. She wouldn’t come back to my room door, and I would truly be alone.

But I couldn’t move. My body was frozen. My mind was numb. 

She wouldn’t. I know Anna loves me.

Awake or asleep, I can never escape the nightmares. 

I call out, “…Anna,” but my voice yields barely a whisper. I manage to sit up. My breaths grow faster. I slowly stand up, wobbling, and manage to stumble over to the door.

“Anna.”

I know Anna loves me. A breath. I frantically jerk the door handle trying to get it open. Shove my feeble stature against the door. 

“Anna!”

I know Anna loves me. A gasp. My sister is on the other side. She’s going away. I need this door open, open please, please, please. I begin to pound on the door, desperately trying to get it open. My deranged state leaves me helpless, as Anna’s departure does. My powers fail to get past my frenzied emotions and dissipate.

“Anna!”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

Anna’s ears were invaded by the pounding on Elsa’s door. She would never forget that sound. Head pounding, heart wounded, tears streaming down Anna’s eyes, she ran. Ran from the desperate cries of her sister who knew Anna loved her—and she didn’t look back.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

The rain ceased to fall. Lightning did not strike. Thunder did not follow.

Elsa, Queen of Arendelle, was alone. Doused in pain. Cursed to suffer. Internally screaming. Frozen by distress. 

The sweet treat tastes bitter. Where there once was love, now rests…

Agony.

Door silent. Head silent. Heart collapsed.

[benaffleckofcrowdsurfing]

Lazerquest - part 4

Alex Turner x Reader

Chapter 4/?

Description: you are an impulsive bartender who recently moved to London after traveling across the United States and living on the road for a few years. You befriend Alex, a musician who recently got out of a long term relationship, and you show him the ways of your free-spirited lifestyle in an attempt to help him move on from his ex. However, you become more of a muse than a friend for Alex and all is revealed when he releases his band’s fourth studio album, “Suck it and See”.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Tag list (msg me if you would like to be added):

@lolurnotmileskane @imagine-that-100

Updates whenever the heck I please (at least once a week) 

Author’s note: hi friends. This is a sucky chapter because im brain dead from work, but i promise things will pick up soon. Ive got big plans for this bad boy, i just need to figure out how to get there.

**************

“Here she is,” Alex burst, and stopped in front of a beautiful vintage Porsche. Your jaw dropped as he leaned up against the car. It was a beautiful deep green color with tan leather interior, and although it was obviously an old car, it was in pristine condition. 

“Oh my god, Alex, this is yours? Is this a 1969 convertible 911?” You inquired, but you knew the answer. You were a bit of a car geek, and Porsches were some of your favorites. You ran your fingers lightly across the hood in awe, you couldn’t believe you were actually touching such a classic car. Alex had a proud grin on his face.

“Yes ma’am. One of my larger purchases after Favourite Worst Nightmare went platinum. She’s my baby,” Alex beamed, and opened the passenger door for you. “Your chariot awaits, Milady.” 

“Why, thank you Sir,” you imitated Alex’s accent, before stepping into the car. He shut the door behind you and went over to the drivers side.

“I got a brand new sound system put in, it has an auxiliary cord and everything. You can go ahead and hook your phone up to it if you’d like, it’s your adventure so you can pick the music,” Alex said, and handed you a cord. He then turned on the car and shot you a huge grin. You pulled out your brand new IPhone 4 - a going away gift from your best friend back home - and scrolled through Itunes. You settled on another album that reminded you of home: Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Californiacation. As the opening track, Around the World, began playing through the car’s speakers, Alex drove off and out of his apartment complex’s garage. 

“So, where to?” Alex had to yell over the music.

“You know the vintage shop by the place I work?”

“Yeah, the one with all the leather and costumes and shit right?”

“That’s the one!” You chortled. Alex and you exchanged knowing glances before he stepped on the gas and you turned up the music. 

The two of you were speeding through the city, and you thought you looked quite good. Your hair was flowing in the spring breeze, and your leopard fur coat matched the interior of the car perfectly. Alex looked cool as all hell in his oversized aviator sunglasses, and his toned arms resting on the steering wheel of the car made your insides weak. When you’d stop at a traffic light, the people in cars around you would stare and smile at you, and to be honest you liked the attention. You liked being the mysterious girl in a Porsche with Alex Turner. As the 911 pulled up to the vintage shop, you clapped your hands in excitement. 

“I hope you brought your wallet, Turner. We’ve got shopping to do,” you winked at Alex as he opened your door and put a hand out for you to hold onto as you exited the car. What a gentleman.

When you entered the shop, you grabbed Alex’s hand and dragged him towards the huge section of racks containing leather jackets.

“Alright, Al. Remember when I said I knew how to make your outfit perfect? Well here we are. You need a good vintage jacket to match that vintage shirt and vintage car of yours,” you smirked. Alex gave you a massive grin before practically diving into the massive collection of jackets.

“You go look around, Y/N, and I’ll show you the one I choose once I’ve found it. Like some sort of big reveal,” Alex instructed. You ruffled his hair and squeezed his arm before skipping away.

You found yourself in the dress section, like usual, and began digging. Most of them were rather cheesy numbers from the 80’s, but just as you were about to give up and move on, you found a stunning 60’s Mod style dress. It looked like a checkerboard, it was 4 huge grids alternating between black and white. It was a rather stretchy material and was a bit short, which you thought was unusual for the time period, but you knew that it’d just make the dress far more flattering. A huge grin appeared on your face, and you darted to the dressing rooms to try it on.

 Just as you had slipped the dress on, you heard Alex calling your name. You were so eager to see the jacket he had picked out that you didn’t bother to look to see how the dress looked, you opened the curtain to go find Alex. You were surprised to see him waiting for you right outside of your dressing room. Both of your jaws dropped at the sight of each other. Alex looked amazing in his jacket, he had picked a rather worn one in a biker style that looked to be around the 1950’s era. 

“You look like a greaser, Al. Like a modern Danny Zuko or something. It’s fantastic,” you gushed. Alex hadn’t said anything yet, he just looked at you with wide eyes and a little smirk.

“And you look like a modern Twiggy. Absolutely brilliant,” he breathed, before taking a step towards you. He traced the outline of the dress with his large hands, before reaching for the price tag. He was so close you could smell him, this time the sandalwood and cigarette was accompanied by the smell of worn leather. “I’m buying this for you.” 

“Oh no you aren’t, you can buy your own jacket and I’ll buy my own dress. Oh and those SHOES!” you gasped and practically ran to the wall of shoes. You pulled down a pair of chunky soled white go-go boots and squealed when you discovered they were in your size. You put them on right there in the middle of the shop and gave Alex a huge smile. “Thoughts?”

“I don’t think you want to know what I’m thinkin, Love.” Alex’s eyes were glued to you, the corners of his lips curled up into a devious smile. 

You rolled your eyes and gave him a little nudge. “Stop playing, Alex. I’ve got to go take this beauty off, then I want to go look at costume jewelry. Then our day can really start.”

“Brilliant.”

“Be back in a jiffy.”

When you had come out of the dressing room, you found Alex at the front of the shop looking at jewelry. The man behind the counter was showing him a gorgeous yellow diamond choker with a black diamond in the center.

“It’s a 30’s era piece, one of my personal favorites. I think it’d look absolutely lovely on your bird, there,” the man said and nodded towards you and then back at Alex. 

“I think so too, Sir. I’ll take it,” Alex beamed. You blushed when he looked down at you and bit his bottom lip. “And don’t let her pay for those shoes and that dress either, I’ll take care of it.”

You frowned. “Alex, seriously. I can buy my own things.”

“I don’t care, I want to buy them for you.”

“You don’t need to do that for me.”

“Y/N.”

“Alex.”

“Y/N/N.”

“Al. I’m being so serious.”

“Do I need to show you my bank statements? Trust me, it’s nothing. Think of it as a little thank you for staying up with me last night.”

“Alexander….”

“Y/N…..”

“Cut it out and move so I can pay for my shit.”

“Nope. I’m buying them for you.”

“You’re impossible, Al.”

“You love me, Y/N/N.”

**********

Once Alex and you had returned to the car, he took the necklace out of the bag and instructed you to turn around. He wrapped it around your neck and gently moved your hair out of his way so he could fasten it. Once it was on, he turned you back around, and fixed your hair. He was still wearing his new jacket, and you took the moment to admire how good he looked. Neither of you spoke, he just stood there with his hand on your shoulders, smiling down at you. You could feel your cheeks turning pink as the two of you locked gazes. After what felt like an eternity of blissful silence, he chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re an interesting one, you.” He muttered as he opened the door of his car for you. “So, where to next?”

“Not sure. Just travel East till you reach the water. I want to go for a swim,” You hummed. 

Alex looked at you, rather amused, before starting the car. “I know just the place.”

************

By afternoon time, both you and Alex had shed your coats and were driving down a windy, narrow, road, soaking in the sunshine. You had taken off your shoes and your seat belt so you could lounge your legs up on the dash and look up at the sky above you. Alex had put on Room on Fire by The Strokes, and the two of you sang along as you sped towards the beach. He had one arm draped over the steering wheel, the other alternating between playing chords on the air guitar and messing with your hair. 

When the two of you made it to the beach, it was nearly sundown. Alex had taken you to a small village perched on a cliff above a large and sandy seashore, and the two of you parked on a small bluff before hiking down towards the water.

“You know, you said you wanted to swim, but neither of us have swimwear,” Alex called after as you ran down the bluff and onto the beach. You didn’t answer him, though, you just turned to face him and took off your top. Alex was extremely taken-back by what you had just done at first, but when you continued to slip off your shorts and skip down the beach, he caught on and took off his own shirt and jeans. You were quite a bit closer to the water than him when he had done so, but just before you were about to stick your toes in the cold water, a pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off the ground.

You let out a little shriek as Alex threw you over his shoulders. He adjusted his arm around your thigh, and began walking deeper into the water.

While helpless in the arms of the musician, you couldn’t help but notice his boxers. “Nice dino undies, Al. Very badass of you.” You gave him a playful slap on the bum and he slightly tightened his grip on your legs.

“Well I’m sorry that I didn’t expect to be getting naked in public today, Y/N. Not all of us can wear an Agent Provacateur set on some random Tuesday.”

You knew Alex was referring to the undergarments you had chosen this morning, and you laughed. Sure, it was a black and lacy number and looked a bit fancy, but it definitely wasn’t Agent Provacateur. “For your information, Al, I got this at Target. And watch your mouth, Buddy, I’m not some slut that just expects to end the night in her bra and undies. I just like to feel put-together.”

“Oh, trust me Y/N, I’m not complaining,” Alex smirked. He was now waist deep in the waves, and still had you on his shoulders. He shifted you down so he was carrying you bridal style, and grinned at you before biting his lip. “Now are you ready to get wet?”

You smirked to yourself a bit. If you had held my thighs like that any longer, Turner, you wouldn’t have had to put me in the water for that to happen.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Alex,” you laughed. When he told you to hold your breath you did, and at that he tossed you into the water. The cold of the ocean bit you the moment you hit the wave’s surface, and you gasped in shock. 

“Jesus it’s cold,” you shrilled. Alex laughed hysterically as you tried to climb on him and out of the water, still shaking due to its temperature. He pushed you off of him, and when an exceptionally large wave came your way he completely submersed himself under it. 

“Bloody hell, you’re right. Fucking freezing.” He yelled as his head popped out from the white caps surrounding the two of you. “Why’d you want to do this, Y/N?”

“Well, you’re having fun, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!”

“Well then there you go, my plan worked out  perfectly,” you beamed. The late afternoon sun gave Alex a golden tint, and with the combination of his wet curls and the waves surrounding him, you thought he looked something like a Greek god. The thought made you let out a breathy laugh, which caused Alex to scrunch his nose at you. 

“Making fun of my Dinosaur boxers again, Y/N?”

You faked a gasp and put a hand over your chest dramatically. “I would never!”

“Then why are you staring, Love?” 

Shit.

“Just trying to figure out how I can get you back under the water,” you sniggered. Alex began swimming away from you, so you chased after him and when you were close enough you put your arms around his neck. “Gotcha!”

“Oh, do you know?” Alex chuckled, and hooked his hands under your armpits. He lifted you all the way up and out of the water, causing you to giggle like a schoolgirl. When he put you back into the water, you wrapped your legs around his torso and placed your hands on either side of his face. Alex pressed his forehead to yours, and you looked into each other’s eyes.

The two of you were so close you felt like you could feel the atoms between you, and a massive smile painted itself across your face. 

“You’ve got gorgeous eyes, Y/N,” Alex whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear over the roaring of the ocean. His comment caused your cheeks to turn as pink as the sunset behind you. 

“As do you, Alex.” The two of you were still wrapped in each other’s arms, forehead to forehead and nose to nose. “Now, take me back to shore before it gets too dark. We’ve still got items left on our agenda.”

Alex furrowed his brows before turning around and allowing you to climb on his back. “What more could you possibly have in store for us, Y/N.”

“You’ll see.”

“You know, being with you is like constantly getting left on a cliffhanger.”

“I like that, Al.”

[calocera]

SPOILERS FOR CATS 2019, here’s my hot takes and opinions

be warned, THIS IS LOOOONG

First off my overall opinion, i LITERALLY cannot say whether it was good or bad, like lots of critics say it just...is beyond that. It’s VERY fun and that’s all I can bring myself to say, I have LOTS of problems with it but I can’t even say that they make the movie bad. It is definitely worth watching

OPINIONS ON CHARACTERS:

Victoria: she’s good! I appreciate that they kinda left her personality blank other than her innocence since that’s pretty much how she always was, still not super thrilled with her as a main character but franchesca did the best she could

Munkustrap: I loved him! he was more of a main character than I would have expected, but they STILL cut all the charm from his lines... why do I love him then? Robbie fairchild did AMAZING background acting, whenever he was in frame he was always doing something SUPER munkustrap-y and making cute dad faces. he was dealt bad lines but he worked around it best he could. Also his legs were normal so...epic fail

Mistoffelees: 😒😒😒😒😒🤢🤢🤮 disappointed but not at all surprised...he was just a Woobie, a softboy uwu nice guy. I felt like I was seeing fanon 2013 loki in cat form. THEY MADE HIS SONG A SADBOY PITY PARTY SONG...WHY WOULD YOU MAKE THE 11 O’CLOCK NUMBER SLOW AND SAD???? Where is the smug little shit who’s vague and aloof yet confident and joyous? He was murdered by his evil homophobic shadow clone. I’m not even gunna indulge the fact that him and Victoria were a thing, I’ll go over that later. He also just constantly looked like the crying cat meme his eyes were so red and watery it was horrifying, yet somehow he wasn’t the worst character , that leads us too.....

tugger: what.the.fuck.did.you.do.to.this.boy. HE GOT THE TREATMENT I EXPECTED FOR MUNKUSTRAP! HE WAS DEMOTED TO BACKGROUND CHARACTER! not only did he not sing mr. mistoffelees, he literally did nothing other than his song, he never interacted with ANY characters besides jenny in 1 scene. I know cats has no set main characters but he’s undoubtedly one of the most important characters and he’s like...the least important named character in the movie. ALSO Jason Derulo was not sexy at all. There was NO hip thrusting NO sexy meowing NO glamrock, he was just an asshole and if I hadn’t already seen the original I would have either completely forgotten about his character or though he was the worst character. I’m so fucking angy I cannot express.

Girzzabella: ngl I expected better. Her acting was great but with the horrible effects I couldnt get invested but I’ll touch on the effects later. Her singing was good, but I expected it to carry the movie and it wasn’t at all the best song in the movie, I’d say she’s about as good as I expected she’d be but the movie itself was more enjoyable than I expected so she was less significant

Old d: she was fine, she LOOKED the part definitely, she didn’t have as large a presence as ken page but I wouldnt expect that of her. Her singing wasn’t the greatest though, her voice is fine by it’s just NOT suited to old d’s songs. I would have preferred she play a female gus bc her voice is very sweet and frail, not at all built for belting like her songs required.

Macavity: he’s just...eh. He’s basically a comic relief villain which sucks. He does practically nothing besides kidnap people, say a cheesy line, and act like a caricature of a 90s cartoon villain (and not one of the fun ones) like theres a scene where he poofs away and when he does it he goes, MACAvityyyyyyy and fades away its so unintentionally funny but it just makes him so lame as a villain. not to mention he doesnt even die at the end or get any satisfying conclusion he just gets stuck on top of a statue and his powers suddenly stop working (for some reason??)

Bombalurina: fuck that, I am simultaneously glad she only was in the macavity number bc fuck off Taylor Swift but also disappointed bc she deserved so much better.

Bustopher: 😟 never in my darkest nightmares did I think I’d see bustopher Jones deepthroat multiple crayfish but here we are. Somehow THIS was the most sexual song, I cannot begin to name the fetishes checked off by this performance bc itd hit word limit. Let me just say that I said multiple times out loud, “damn bustopher kinda a freak with it 😏😏” like I CANNOT stress how weirdly sexual it gets. And ofc its all otherwise just haha funney fat guy eat food and burp and fall down. He also breaks the fourth wall a few times which like, fuck you

Jenny: exactly what was shown in the trailer. Unfunny fat jokes and slapstick humor. Also they focused WAY too many shots on her cat pussy and I wish I was making that up. Also of note is that the cgi on the rats and cockroaches are drastically worse than the rest of the movie, like not just bad designs the effects are BAD. also they translated they whole gumbie cat fur-shedding as her wearing fake skin over her outfit which would be fine but UHH the fake fur is skin tight??? so it literally looks like shes ripping off her skin and she does it multiple times its fucking terrifying

Mungojerrie and rumpelteazer: meh, they are fine as characters, not quite as energetic as I would have liked but they didn’t massively fuck anything up? The song was horrible, they went against the beat for...some reason? Like it’s a song with a very distinct rhythm and they split up the lyrics so weirdly. I liked that they followed through with the lore of them working for macavity

Skimbleshanks: YES YESSSSSSSSSS HOLY FUCKING SHIT 💗💕💖💞💜😳😳😳😳😳😳😳💜💛🧡💚💖❤️💗 i absolutely CANNOT express how good skimbleshanks made me feel. He looks like a leather daddy with his chains and suspenders and hat and stache, I hate that I’m saying this but uh...mr skimbleshanks sir😳 we were actually screaming it was so fucking good. Watching this movie was worth it just for skimble. Unironically. I’m listening to the song as we speak. It was kinda weird that they moved the tap dancing to this song but that’s more of a detractor from Jennie’s and a plus side to skimbles since it’s good tap

Gus: good! Ian did a good job of course, no one doubted that he would.

Growltiger and griddlebone: not racist but still absolutely horrifying. One of the worst parts of the movie, I actually got squeamish looking at griddlebone a few times that’s how bad she looks

Everyone else: not that good. I couldn’t tell who was who, all their personalities were annoying, I’m on imdb as we speak trying to figure out who even was supposed to be who. Demeter is completely butchered and jemima just isn’t there, doesn’t sing her part, it all sucked man.

Tech talk:

CGI: okay so here’s the thing, the effects are good. GREAT even, the issue is how fucking horrible the designs are. The lack of cat nose, mouth, and hairy cheeks makes them all look disgusting. Also the feet. Holy fuck why do they have feet. THERES A FUCKING SCENE WHERE TUGGER GRABS VICTORIAS FOOT AND SNIFFS IT. IT LASTS LIKE 5 SECONDS. Old Deuteronomy, Gus, and Cassandra (bc she was already bald) are the only characters I’d say look anywhere close to decent, grizabella looks okay in profile but head on it’s all horrible again. its really such a shame bc the sets are gorgeous! i really hope this movie gets some form of recognition for its sets.

the editing and directing was DOGSHITTTTTTT there are SO many scenes where characters just teleport or parts where people are singing and no ones mouths are moving its really distracting

Other things:

it’s OBVIOUS that the critics calling this movie horny have never seen the original. I’d definitely say the movie is LESS HORNY than the play. It IS however waaaaaaay more uncomfortable with its hornieness, so I’d say in that regard YES, the horny stuff is much more gratuitous and off putting despite there being an overall smaller amount than the play. ie everything bustopher jones does

They changed a BUNCH of lyrics for some reason?? Like they cut verses which I understand but there are like a handful of lyrics in almost every song they just...change. like...okay? All changing lyrics is gunna do is make people who knew the songs frustrated when they can’t sing along

the dancing was incredible! shame the cg just fucking invalidates all of it bc your mind doesnt register it as real people doing real moves

OKAY THE FUCKING CATNIP SCENE so when taylor swift showers everyone in catnip they all just fucking start moaning and go FULL HORNY its TOO MUCH like misto full on does an o face like eyes rolled back mouth open  and munkustrap is like ass up panting i still havent processed it im fucking terrified to encounter it again. they cut the orgy? yet added THIS??? k

WHY did they take 2 of the most iconic characters who FREQUENTLY interact and just

a. Never even have them make eye contact

b. Make 1 a background character

c. Completely change the personality of the other one

On the topic of Victoria/misto: I am just still at a loss as to why they thought it’d be a good idea? They completely removed Plato and for what? This? Pathetic. It’s worth noting the weirdly munkustrap has WAYYY more chemistry with both Victoria AND mistoffelees then they did with each other (there’s a part where it looks like misto and munk are about to kiss for some reason?? munk ALSO gets all touchy feely with skimbleshanks???) anyways munkustrap king moments

tldr; its worth watching, the best parts were the sets, the dancing, skimbleshanks, and munkustrp fucking CARRIES the weight of the world with his face acting. the worst things were a big fat tie between bustopher, tugger,misto,jenny,growltiger and griddlebone, and the godawful design choices

[twistedintern]

Kyuu’s Chronicle - Entries #1-6

Entry One

“Everything happens for a reason.”

...That was, up until recently, a favorite adage of mine. Through good times and bad, I would think back to those five little words.

Everything happens for a reason.

Struggle.

Success.

Waking up inside a sealed coffin after an unremarkable night’s rest.

...Hello, Lady Fate? Might I be able to file a tiny complaint? WHAT THE FLYING EVER-LOVING F*CK? 

You don’t just up and isekai a normal adult woman into the middle of some Harry Potter-grade magical college without providing her with purpose, know-how, and a means of returning home! I am NOT the token light novel hero with a personality that screams ‘lovable fish-out-of-water,’ alright? SHEESH. I could’ve been injured, kidnapped, or worse....

Fortunately--yes, there’s always a silver lining, Kyuu. Remember that--while I now know I could’ve ended up as mincemeat at the hands of delinquent students, I was first happened upon… by a cat. That cat was accompanied by a pair of men. Well, I knew one of them was a man. I couldn’t make out his features clearly in the dimly-lit chamber before he left, but he sounded and held himself like a middle-aged man would.

His companion, though? Different story entirely. When he lifted his lamp to get a better look at me, providing me with some much-needed light with which to take in my surroundings…

Feathers. Gaudy shiny things. A suit, tie, cloak, a grand hat.

Two piercing yellow lights shining from a beaked half-mask.

...Mere inches from my face.

I had never fought so hard to suppress a scream in my life.

Entry Two

A bit of time has passed since that, um, eventful night. Because I’m really bad at keeping diaries, I’ll just give a recap:

I have never wanted to go home so badly in all my life.

The individual I met back then--he introduced himself as Dire Crowley, by the way; a fitting name if I do say so myself (I still flinch whenever I see him or hear him call my name. God, he’s so weird)--turned out to be the headmaster of this place. ...Um, what was it called again?

...Right! Night Raven College. He tells me nonstop how prestigious this place is. He’d better not be exaggerating, though that seems to be his general way of talking about things that matter to him.

(I hope he’s telling the truth: if so, it’s only a matter of time before word gets out that I don’t belong here. He won’t believe me whenever I tell him I’m from another, altogether separate world.)

In the meantime, Crow Man has me holed up in a rather spacious (and quite homey) tool shed a short hike away from the central plaza of the school.

I wish I knew why he’s always so hellbent on emphasizing how terribly kind he is when it comes to doing things for others. Normally, I’d consider that sort of behavior to be incredibly suspicious. I mean, I know administrative heads of these kinds of institutes have it tough and are largely underappreciated, but it really feels like he’s hiding something...

Entry Three

Crowley invited me to his office today, and for once, he was the least remarkable thing in the room.

I have never been so shocked in all my years. So much so that I fainted as soon as I processed what I was seeing. (I don’t faint.)

Portraits flanking his seat, seven in total, suspended midair by magic forces beyond my understanding.

The no-nonsense Queen of Hearts

Scar, the usurper lion king

Ursula, the sea witch

Jafar, the sultan’s scheming right-hand

The beautiful and vain Evil Queen

Hades, lord of the dead

Maleficent, the preeminent sorceress of all that is wicked

When I recovered consciousness, I nearly shrieked. 

“THEY’RE YOUR ‘MAGNIFICENT SEVEN’?”

Crowley responded with a simple nod of the head. Hadn’t I seen their statues on the main street? He wished to know why I was surprised.

“I… KNOW THEM.”

Crowley blinked before affirming that yes, I ought to. Very few people in the world don’t. Then I reminded him I wasn’t from this world.

Fast-forward, crow man drags me to some grandiose “Hall of Mirrors” and asks the principal spirit what my deal is. (Why didn’t he do that sooner…?) The spirit (which also looks eerily familiar) validates my entire argument: that I’m a magic-less adult from outside their realm.

And Crowley? Crow Man? He and the mirror spirit might as well have been discussing the weather, because he didn’t seem bothered or troubled by the revelation in the slightest!

Entry Four

A few days later, Crowley made a formal announcement that I would be joining the staff of the college. …As an intern of sorts.

Huh? Excuse me? Did a bird man really just make an executive decision to take me on as his servant?!

For some reason… I’m not as pissed about this as I feel I could be. After all, I’m painfully aware of how I have zero business at Night Raven; it was well within his rights to kick me out. The least I could do is make myself useful.

Crowley (I never thought I’d be calling a bird my boss, but here I am!) sat me down later over a light lunch to tell me about the men I’d be assisting in the days ahead:

Mozus Trein, Professor of Magical History

Very serious, highly respected. A good judge of character with zero tolerance for poor work ethics (yikes!)

Divus Crewel, Professor of Alchemy and Magical Sciences

Exacting, charismatic. A celebrated fashion designer (???) whose wrath has earned him admirers and foes alike

Ashton Vargas, Professor of Kinesiology (I guess he’s the PE guy)

Passionate, persistent. Is known for his narcissism, but is a dependable team player when it counts

Sam, Proprietor of “Mr. S’s Mystery Shop”

The go-to man for all your buying needs. Is a bit on the eccentric side, but that’s part of his charm

Maybe this won’t be such a lousy arrangement after all....

Entry Five

Allow me to amend my earlier statement ever so slightly:

THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST ARRANGEMENT IMAGINABLE.

My first day on the job has been nothing but one disaster after another. These men are unreasonable, larger-than-life characters with the most obtuse expectations and tendencies I’ve ever met! Why oh why couldn’t I have been made younger in the process of this whole isekai-ing business? A great many students, as I’ve now come to learn, aren’t half bad. (The remarkable ones among them certainly left a lasting impression…) What’s more, they actually seem terrified of these fellows birdbrain assigned me to aid.

Divus Crewel is not my type of person AT ALL. He’s vain, cold, and completely unforgiving. He tore at me from the get-go, his cold grey eyes boring into me as he informed me how drab my sense of style was. The headmaster spoke so highly of me; he thought it fair to assume that I would be a remarkable presence having come from a world apart. I know well his type: petty and shallow. (Bastard thinks he can wear fur like that in his line of work? Tch.)

Ashton Vargas was, unsurprisingly, the textbook definition of a musclehead. He chewed me out for my poor physical constitution and demanded that I join him for early morning jogs around campus followed by intense cardio. Not for nothing, but exercise is not my thing. Naturally, he’s so into himself that he didn’t bother listening to me when I tried to politely turn down his invitation.

Sam… where do I even begin about that piece of work? ‘A bit eccentric’? Only a little? Way to downplay things, boss bird! The guy is a bonafide freak. He’s all about making sales and nothing else, and he’s as sketchy as rotten fish smells. And get this… his shadow? The thing has a mind of its own, and he does nothing to keep a reign on it. I couldn’t tell if he was joking, but as soon as he started talking about his “friends on the other side” with a snicker and a twinkle in his eye, I hightailed it out of there. I am never going back to his place of business ever again, even if it kills me.

I haven’t even met the last person the Headmaster told me about, but if he’s anything like his colleagues--or worse--Crowley might as well throw me to the sharks and put me out of my misery. Going by the information that… crow so generously shared with me, he doubtless feels like someone who’s going to see right through me and utterly crush what little self-worth I have left.

Please, I just want this nightmare to be over already....

Entry Six

So… um, hold on. I need to gather my thoughts. Deep breaths, Kyuu. Deep breaths.

Today was… nice. I can’t believe I’m saying any of this but… I’m kind of happy.

Although I had initially considered skipping my appointed first meeting with Professor Trein, I decided to suck it up at the very last minute and take whatever fate had in store for me head-on. I do not regret my decision in the least.

Where do I begin? I was so damn nervous when I knocked on the door to his office. A voice urged me inside, but the first thing that greeted me wasn’t the voice’s owner… but a cat.

This fluffy black and white feline, its expression demure, ran up to me immediately and took to rubbing against my leg. It was the cat from that fateful night I woke up inside a coffin! He held still and stared at me expectantly before issuing a rawl. I looked up to find a stern man, dressed in antiquated robes, regarding me with an unflinching glower. I was paralyzed with fear--I’d screwed up, hadn’t I?

Then he smiled at me. “It has been a while, Kyuu. I was expecting you.” He was the other person from that night! I just nodded my head dumbly and followed him inside. I could see how one could find him intimidating, what with his piercing visage and strict, commanding aura, but for me there was something almost comforting about his olden mannerisms.

We had a delightful talk over freshly-brewed tea. He asked me about myself, and I was stunned to learn that he and I had many things in common! He was positively amazed how quickly his beloved cat (who’s name is Lucius, by the way) warmed up to me. All the while, I was fondly reminded of my university days where I would spend hours on end talking with one of my favorite history professors after class.

I eventually opened up to him about my catastrophic first day with his colleagues. He expressed sympathy, but at the same time he was quick to point out that perhaps I was taking things too personally, and that I had jumped to conclusions without putting things in perspective. Knowing my tendencies, I conceded that he was probably right.

[ampleappleamble]

reminder: yall on ao3 real nice, also i love you thank you so much

also i’m gonna go ahead and post chapter 5 here in its entirety too (under a cut, natch) just in case. meanwhile, i’m chopping and screwing screenshots into big huge frankenstein images so i can obsess over canon conversations and lore on the go! some of these screenshots are just pure comedy though. post ‘em later! anyway, here it is in case you missed it:

Chapter 5: Home and Hearth

---

Edér wondered sometimes just how long it would take his hometown to finally die.

It reminded him of this dog he used to know when he was a kid, a sweet old hound dog called Tibbeth. She was the Rask's dog, but the whole town knew her, cared for her, fed her scraps. Everyone loved that dog. By the time Edér was old enough to make lasting memories, she was reaching the end of her breeding years, and she only mellowed out further with each year that passed. He remembered her fondly from his childhood: Tibby making him late for dawn church service because she sat on his feet and wouldn't stop giving him Sad Eyes till he rubbed her tummy. Tibby wandering between two arguing friends and licking herself so ostentatiously that the argument was completely forgotten, ending in peals of laughter instead of fisticuffs.

But as he grew into an adolescent, Tibby grew elderly and decrepit. Her teeth and fur fell out. She limped. Her scat was watery and thin, and she tended to let it fall wherever she stood. Her belly distended, and she started getting mean and lashing out at those who tried to touch her, tried to help her.

He had known there was something growing inside of her that was hurting her, and what was worse, he had known that there was nothing anyone could do to help her. But to Edér, the worst thought of all was that she was still in there under it all. Under all the pain and fear, sweet old Tibby was still in there wanting nothing but belly rubs and bits of ham from your plate. It was the sickness made her snap at you, made her shit all over herself and struggle and scream while you tried to clean her up. Made her scared.

And it was this sickness that made his hometown like this, now. And just like with Tibby, there was nothing he could do to help. No way to excise the tumor. His gaze wandered to the corpse-strewn monster of a tree nearby. Nothing left to do but end it mercifully.

But he hadn't even had it in him to watch as Tibby was put down all those years ago. She had scratched and bitten the Gyrning's baby girl, and even though she was old and half toothless, she did enough damage to scar the child for life. He had run away back then, hiding the tears he had been getting too old to shed so freely anymore.

He sighed heavily, barely squinting against the feeble morning sunlight as he gazed out over the only home he had ever known.

"We're both gettin' too old for this, ain't we?" Edér murmured.

Gilded Vale did not answer him.

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end, and he turned slowly, carefully, to look at the tree again. He wasn't alone.

---

The rest of the morning hadn't gone so badly.

She'd suffered a nightmare, she'd explained, and the strange hallucinations she'd told him about before had decided to manifest at the worst possible time: exactly when she had woken up. Hence the... episode she'd had. Understandable, given the circumstances.

Unfortunately, she did still want to go back to that tree. "For closure," she'd pleaded. "It'll only take a moment, I promise you."

They had dressed and packed their meager belongings in awkward silence, making it all the way downstairs to a table with their bowls of tepid porridge in hand before she had spoken up again.

"I'm sorry," she'd stated, stirring the beige mess in her bowl with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner fastening her own noose. "That was probably a... distinctly unpleasant experience for you. And this little detour probably will be, too. ...Please know that I truly appreciate your agreeing to accompany me nonetheless."

She sounded as though she'd been planning this apology all morning, phrasing and rephrasing it in her head until she could strike a palatable balance between being honest with him and maintaining etiquette. Aloth had accepted without hesitation, of course. He had almost apologized to her himself in return, for perhaps having seen... more than she may have wanted a near-stranger to see, but he had thought better of it and remained silent instead. He hadn't wanted to embarrass her by bringing up her strange behavior again. She seemed to appreciate it.

And now he was standing a few paces behind her in the center of town as she stared at a dead woman in a tree.

 They had been standing there for fifteen minutes.

 "She's aff 'er heed, lad."

"Nobody asked you," he sighed through gritted teeth.

---

Axa regarded the new, dark world in which she found herself with fear and wonder. She had expected to see the dead woman, feel a little foolish, and then set off on the road. She had not been expecting this at all.

Caldara de Berranzi's soul looked back at her, smiling a gentle, motherly smile.

"What is this?" She said it, but she didn't, just like in her dream. "What's happened to me?"

And the animancer responded in the same fashion. "Poor thing! You must be so confused. The world is a baffling place, and the world beyond the Shroud even more so. But that world is yours now, too, to bear witness to."

"I don't understand," Axa whimpered. She really, really didn't. She didn't even know if this was really happening.

The dwarven woman's soul smiled sadly at the little orlan, tsked in sympathy. "I know you don't, dear. It's a lot to take in. Here, let me put it this way: Whatever happened to you, it freed your soul from your body, but not all the way. You were pulled into this world--" The dwarf gestured at the swirling morass of essence and void around them-- "the In-Between of Life and Death. But! You must have only been here for an instant. Any longer, and you'd have ended up staying here, like me." Caldara gestured at herself, a bloated corpse dangling from a tree, with a sweet little chuckle.

"Your soul remembers, though. Remembers even after it returns to your body. Remembers how it sees in this world. Souls, their histories, their memories, their paths through the In-Between. All are yours to observe." The animancer nodded sagely.

"You are a Watcher, now," she chirped, "and a Watcher you will stay."

Axa blinked. Watcher. The word from her dream.

 "I... I don't know what that means at all."

Caladara sighed softly. "Oh dear, oh dear. Make yourself comfortable, aimoranet. We have a lot more talking to do."

---

Aloth was starting to feel uneasy.

It had been just over 20 minutes now, and Axa still stood in the same spot, mesmerized by the dead animancer. They were drawing curious stares from townsfolk as they passed by, and he was getting nervous about what might happen-- what might come out of his mouth-- should one of them try to start something.

He glanced around furtively, his open grimoire like a leaden weight in his hands, searching for anything to focus on besides the fact that he'd apparently elected to travel with this woman. A blond man with a pipe, leaning casually against a collapsed wall some distance away, cocked an eyebrow at him. The message was completely unspoken, but easily understood. "Uh, your friend okay there?"

He shot back a look that he hoped said both "Mind your own business, please" and "I have absolutely no idea why she's doing this," somehow.

The man with the pipe shrugged, glanced up at the dead dwarf, then turned away. Aloth took the opportunity to study him a bit further, recognizing him vaguely from his time in town. He'd seen this man around, although not as much in recent weeks. He was vaguely aware of the Vale's day-to-day goings-on, and he seemed to recall seeing less of this particular face around the same time the local lord strung up his latest hapless victim in this gruesome abomination of a tree. Aloth tried to remember exactly who that victim had been...

...before noticing, with a start, that Axa had moved. She'd snapped out of whatever strange fugue state had taken hold of her and she stood before him now, looking for all the world like a child woken prematurely from a nap: confused, angry, morose.

He proceeded extremely cautiously. "Axa? Are you alright?" He leaned a bit closer for privacy's sake. "You seemed... a bit lost, there." For almost half an hour.

Either she didn't notice his attempt at discretion or she didn't care. "According to that dead woman," she blurted, "I'm a Watcher."

He felt his eyebrows leap up to his hairline. "Oh. Well. That... explains a lot, actually."

---

Edér had watched the elf and the orlan the entire time they stood before the tree.

The elf he'd seen around town here and there recently, but he'd never interacted with the man. Of course, he'd heard others talking about him, saying all kinds of things: a haughty foreigner who thinks he can bring his high-falutin' Aedyran ass here and piss on our hospitality. But given the usual kind of horseshit his fellow townsfolk usually spewed these days, he didn't put much merit in what they had to say. At least he tended to mind his own business.

The orlan had just arrived the previous day, and when he saw Raedric's henchman approach her, he'd actually tensed up, preparing for a fight. With everything he'd heard about orlans, he was half expecting her to pull a knife, or maybe even whisper some sort of cipher magic. But instead she'd just shouted at Urgeat, mad as Hel and rightfully so. Edér had been unable to stop himself smiling at the look on the magistrate's pinched-up little asshole of a face.

Then the bell had tolled, and suddenly everyone in town had bigger issues to deal with. She'd looked positively miserable as she'd trudged past him on the way to the Black Hound Inn.

Look at that, he'd thought, watching her plod slowly forward. Practically one of us already.

She'd met his eye for a moment, and he'd raised his pipe to her in a commiserative gesture. "Welcome to our lovely town," he'd quipped. And she had smiled at him in response, even after all that abuse she'd just had to take from Urgeat.

Maybe that was why he'd decided to say something when she passed him again. She didn't look to be in any higher spirits than she had when he'd said something before, but she had smiled at him back then, so what was the worst that could happen this time?

"Seventeen-and-a-half," he called out to her, and grinned. She's a little kith, maybe she'll like this one.

She and the elf turned to him, both of them wearing facial expressions similar to ones they might have had he catcalled them in an especially vulgar manner.

...Off to a great start, Edér thought. Nothing to do but press on.

"Eighteen dependin' on if you count the dwarf woman as a full person or not. ...I think you oughtta."

She approached him then, slowly, scrutinizing him with her eerie slitted pupils, while the elven man followed behind her. "You're saying there are eighteen people hanging in that tree?"

"Last I counted. You mean to tell me you were standin' there that whole time and you wasn't even counting 'em?"

Her cheeks brightened, and she turned to the elf. "Aloth? How long was I-- were we standing there like that?"

The elf, Aloth apparently, winced apologetically at the little woman. "Oh, only about... about twenty minutes. Ish."

The orlan huffed out something between a laugh and a cough. "Only twenty minutes!" She shook her head, grinning, hands on her hips. "Excellent. I was worried I looked like a weird asshole for a minute there."

Edér laughed aloud at last, and held out his hand in greeting. "Edér Teylecg. Although y' may as well just call me Nineteen."

"Axa Mala." He felt soft, fine fur in his hand when she shook it, and with it an extremely confusing mix of emotions. The elf behind her introduced himself as well, as Aloth Corfiser, before she continued. "Nineteen, huh. You mean to say you think you're next?"

Edér smiled sadly, looking up at his friends and neighbors in the tree. "May as well be. Eighteen's my former captain in the war. Was my headman on the farm till Raedric put 'im up there for darin' to stand up for us. For me." He squinted back down at the little woman, clenching his pipe between his teeth. "Bein' honest though, way you were carryin' on with the magistrate the other day, I can't see you makin' it much further than, oh, 22, 23, tops. You seem like the sort of lady likes t' get involved."

She really did, too. For the first time since they'd started talking, her gaze met his, and the intensity of her bright violet eyes almost made him want to look away. Not quite. But almost.

She had a strange, guarded look on her face as she peered up at him. "Do you know what a Watcher is?"

Edér choked on his pipe smoke. This little gal was full of surprises.

---

"Caed Nua, huh? ...Haven't thought about that old place in a long time. Man such as Maerwald, there might be things I wanna ask him. Don't know why I never thought of that."

Obscured One, you have truly outdone yourself this time, Axa mused, a slow smile spreading across her face. This was what she'd been missing after her expulsion: A mission, a purpose, a destination in life.

I was ready to die, and you gave me this gift: an absolutely insane convoluted nightmare scenario, compelling me to try to make sense of it... and in doing so, requiring me to stay alive. I am truly grateful. She closed one eye, sending her prayer to Wael.

It was remarkable how much better she felt just knowing what was wrong with her, having a name for it. Watcher. The knowledge presented new challenges, certainly, but at least now she knew what she was up against. And she even had a tangible, short-term goal in mind:

 Get to Caed Nua. Find the Watcher, Maerwald.

The blond folk, Edér, scratched his bristly beard while he thought about her offer. But she could tell he'd already made up his mind. This couldn't go any other way. She'd seen him in her dream, alongside Caldara. A clear sign! This was meant to be!

...Okay, maybe she was taking it a bit too far there.

"I dunno about settin' out with a couple of strangers. Strange strangers at that." He glanced at Aloth and grinned apologetically. "No offense, cousin."

"I'll vouch for him," Axa smiled, stretching, preparing for the work ahead of her. "It's me you have to watch out for."

Aloth shrugged. "Either way, you're probably better off out there with us than here, being sized up for a noose by every other neighbor."

"Can't argue with that. Aw, what the Hel. Sure, I'll do some sightseeing with you folks." Edér grinned at the two of them, his broad, ruddy face brightening considerably. "Where's our first stop on this little roadtrip? We're buyin' supplies, I suppose?"

Axa winced, clutching at her sad, barren little coinpurse. "Uh. Listen... About that--"

---

[newts-fan-case]

Balance

One-shot/Chapter number: Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Young!Ballerina!OFC

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Smut (in future chapters). TW for slight mention of eating disorders (in future chapters)

Rating: Rated M for future chapters

Word Count: 1800+

Summary/Author’s Note: Hello again! Here is the first chapter of my first Tom Hiddleston x OFC fan fiction (that is not a one shot). Like I said before it’s about a young ballerina that bothers Tom with the noise she makes, they met and lots of things happen... Sorry, I'm not really good at summaries. Any grammar or orthographic mistakes are my own, I hope to improve with this because English isn’t my first language, so just let me know if you spot any mistake that could be easily corrected.

Tag list is at the end and the text is under the “Read more” cut (I hope) for better scrolling. Any comments will be greatly appreciated, any constructive criticism will be strongly encouraged and if you want to be tagged or removed from the tag list just let me know! I hope to publish a new chapter every two weeks (early if I can, but don’t hold your breath) and on weekends mostly. If you read this, thank you and without further ado, the chapter:

“…Yes, Mum, I just landed. I’m gonna go fetch Bobby first, have a nap and then I’ll go grocery shopping.” Tom said to the phone. 

“Alright, Tom, remember you will come visit Friday, you can stay all you want and please bring that gorgeous pup of yours!” He could hear lots of noise on his mother end, she must have been in one of her clubs. “I already miss him so much, I’m having second thoughts about giving him to you.”

“Yes, Mum, I remember. I bet Bobby will be absolutely delighted to see you again, I will start to take him on walks without carrying him that much so we can start running soon. And I missed you, too.” He chuckled, absentmindedly shaking his head while he picked his luggage from the baggage claim area.

“Oh! Don’t be silly, I miss you very much too, and I miss seeing your face without all that hair that makes you look like a tramp,” she huffed, “I hope you shave and get a cut soon.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be holding my breath for that, I happen to like the beard and the longer hair, thank you very much.” He heard Diana sigh on the other end and smiled, picturing her shaking her head in a resigned manner.

“Alright, alright… I have to go now, Blanche is saying that it’s my turn. I love you, Tom, bye.” She made kissing noises and he smiled.

“I love you too, mum, see you on Friday.”

“See you.” He hung up, and sighed. He really had missed his family this few months and was really glad he got to spend the holidays with them this year. Tom couldn’t wait to see his mum, sisters and nieces. 

Getting a cab at noon wasn’t very easy, but after a few tries he was finally able to catch one, he gave the cabbie Luke’s address and mentally prepared himself to call his publicist and friend.

Luke, like always, answered after the third tone, “Luke Windsor”

“Hey, Luke, I just got to London, I’m on a cab right now to pick up Bobby, are you ready?” 

“Tom, lovely to hear from you, yes, your little nightmare is ready, you owe me a pair of new shoes and a belt.” His friend didn’t sound very mad, but he didn’t sound happy either, Tom closed his eyes and sighed.

“Okay, sorry about that, mate. I’ll be there in an hour maybe less if the traffic isn’t so bad, thanks for taking care of him”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, although I’m happy you don’t have any trips coming soon, because I’m not volunteering to look after him anytime soon.” Tom laughed but immediately stopped when he could hear a loud clash through the phone, “For fuck’s sake! Bobby!!” Luke shouted, he must have left the phone on a table because Tom could only hear his muffled voice, “Give me that… bad dog, stay there… no. Stay.”

Tom strummed his fingers on his leg and waited for the phone to be picked up again, a bit of shuffling later and… “Luke, I’m really sorry, I’ll pay you everything he may have broken, sorry, but he is just a puppy, he will learn soon enough and-“

“Tom, stop. It’s fine, it was just a cup of coffee, I’m glad he didn’t cut himself with the shards. And you will be here soon, so I won’t kill him to stop his adorable puppy eyes.”

“Great, thanks mate. Did you already walked him?”

“Yes, yes, he is ready to go, and I hope you get here soon ‘cause I have a meeting in two hours and I don’t fancy being late.”

“Right, see you in a bit.”

“Goodbye.”

Tom put away his phone and then yawned. Jet lag was really getting to him, he couldn’t wait to get home, shower and have a nice long nap, hopefully until dinner. These time changes were impossible to keep up with and he was practically living out of coffee and red bull. When he got to Luke’s house he asked the cabbie to wait for him and went to fetch Bobby. His friend opened the door before he even got there and a brown mass of fur came running and barking to greet him. 

“Hello buddy! Did you miss me? Yeah? Good boy! I missed you lots too!” The puppy barked excitedly and kept jumping to try and lick his face, Tom knelt and scratch him behind the ears, the puppy’s tail didn’t stop waggling and Tom had to keep turning his face to stop Bobby from licking his mouth and eyes. “Oh, you’re such a good boy! Yeah!”

At that moment Luke exited his house with Bobby’s bag, where Tom guessed were his harness, toys and bowls.

“Here, all his things are in there, I had to wash him the other day because he thought it would be fun to play in the mud, so there is a bottle of shampoo in there too.”

Tom stood up and put the bag over his shoulder, then he gave his friend a hug and thanked him, again, for looking after his dog. They said their goodbyes and Tom got back in the cab, with Bobby in his lap with the head out of the window. He gave the driver his address and they were home a few minutes later. Bobby had calmed a bit on the ride, so he quickly paid the driver -with a generous tip for allowing the dog in- got his things from the boot and made his way inside the building. 

He greeted the doorman and walked to the elevator. Normally he would’ve taken the stairs but with all the things he was carrying and the tiredness that seemed to creep on him, even more now that he was so close to his house and bed, he decided to not risk himself falling. ‘Better safe than sorry’, he thought.

When he finally was inside his house, he quickly let the dog down, got rid of the bags that were making his back hurt and started shedding his clothes to take a much needed shower. He practically raced upstairs to his ensuite and there he took off his shoes, pants and underwear, then he jumped in the shower and couldn’t help the loud moan that fell from his lips when the warm water touched his back and relaxed his tired muscles. 

He took his sweet time washing himself. He quickly dried his body and put a towel around his waist, he didn’t bother drying his hair, something he was sure his mother would have chided him for not doing and went to his bedroom to take his long needed nap. The man put on some clean boxers, checked the time on his bedside clock -1:37 p.m- and fell  face first on the bed, he got comfortable and closed his eyes, expecting to instantly fall asleep and sleep at least three hours.

Tom was startled awake with what sounded like… ‘Hammering? Who the hells starts hammering at…’he checked his bedside clock and groaned. It was only 2:16pm! He hadn’t even slept an hour yet! And the sound seemed to be coming from right upstairs, just above is head. He could already feel a migraine forming and then Bobby started barking from downstairs, obviously. He groaned again and buried his face on the pillow -that was wet now- because he hadn’t dried his hair and now he really regretted it. 

The noise finally stopped and he sighed contently, cuddling his pillow more and thanking the heavens that he could get to sleep again when…

Thump, thump, thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

‘Bloody hell!”

The man couldn’t take it anymore, he put on some sweatpants, a shirt and went upstairs to knock on his neighbour door, he  prepared a speech in his mind to kindly ask whoever lived there that he needed a God damn nap or else…

Nobody answered, he was getting more and more irritated by the second, the noise was louder up here so he tried knocking a bit harder, and again, nothing.

He couldn’t hear any background noise except for the on and off thump-thump-thump, so he tried one last time. Just when the noise stopped, he knocked harder than the other times. Finally he could hear light footsteps approaching. A few seconds later the door was being opened and he found himself face to face -or more like face to chest, her face, his chest- with a beautiful young girl wearing a bun, headphones hanging around her neck -which explained the no-hearing thing- a leotard with light pink tights underneath, a flimsy skirt, leg warmers and a pair of shiny new pointe shoes on her hand. 

‘So, a ballerina then, that may explain the noise,’ he thought. 

The girl shyly smiled at him, with a flushing face and the shiniest eyes he had ever seen, leaning against the doorframe and sort of expecting… something… Right!

“Hello! Hmm… Sorry… I’m Tom,” he extended his hand, “I live downstairs, didn’t mean to interrupt your practice or whatever you were doing but-“

“Oh, its okay!” She said, letting go of the door so it opened wider, shaking his hand delicately, “I’m Claire, I’m sorry, are you here for the noise? I didn’t realize there was someone downstairs and I guess it would be annoying to hear the tapping while I break in the shoes.” Claire looked to the floor embarrassed, fidgeting a bit with the shoes in her hands. 

“Erm, yes, normally I wouldn’t mind. Really. It’s just… I got home from a large trip today and I’m a bit jet lagged, so if yo could… keep it down for a bit?”

“Oh! Yes, don’t worry, I was done with these pair anyways, and I’ll try and keep the breaking to a minimum here, and practice too, so I don’t bother you with the noise,” the girl bit her lip and Tom couldn’t help but stare, thinking about what it would be like to kiss those pink lips… ‘Wait, stop! She must be over a decade younger than you, and we all know how that ends’

“No, no, no. Don’t compromise your art for me, it’s just for today, really.”

“Well… If you say so…”

The two of them stood there in an awkward silence, Tom was so occupied admiring the young beauty before him, that he didn’t notice her getting slightly uncomfortable, until she snapped him out of his reverie saying:

“Well, hmm, Tom, was it?” He nodded, “guess I’ll see you around?”

Tom absentmindedly nodded again while she started to close the door, “Yes, yes… I’ll be seeing you…” His mumbling got cut off by the door closing slowly in front of his stunned face.

‘Great Tom! I bet she thinks you are an idiot and a pervert now.’ The man sighed and made his way downstairs, still thinking about the beautiful young ballerina, wishing he could see her again soon.

Tag list: The one in italics couldn’t be tagged

@lilyrosebae​ @drakesfiance​ @redfoxwritesstuff​ @charliepeaceout​ @magic-dust​ @bambamwolf87​ @starlord829 @bookgirlunicorn​ @godhateskyleigh​ @aknerdchick​ 

[dotchi13]

Waiting for Escape

With permission of the Raggedy bitty we have in the shop I decided to type out and post her story, ever since hearing it I haven’t forgot about it. 

Rating: Light M for the warnings

Warnings: Violence, mentions of Death, forced abandonment, Please keep caution.

She had been born to a bitty shop within an orb as a Raggedy bitty. She could remember being raised by a Mafia (Mafiafell Sans) and a Swap Asriel, pampered and educated and with that she was raised to be a lady that can certainly give you a bad time if you crossed her, but could otherwise keep her composure. 

Like every bitty that lived in the shop she had desired to be adopted into a loving family that would accept her and treat her like the companion she was, as she was no pet, none of them were, though some humans didn’t seem to understand that.

When she was old enough to be put out with the others she carried herself with pride, assured in herself that she would be adopted just like the others, and sure enough a man came in, displaying anxiety in ‘his first bitty buying’ as he looked around the shop, going to the darker parts where she and the others were. Some Raggedies trembled with anxiety, but she didn’t quiver like a lamb, that would be an absolute shame to her and those who raised her. 

He eyed her with interest, asking her questions about herself and warning her he lived in a bad neighborhood, there was the possibility of someone breaking in and wanting to know if she could defend herself. 

With a display of force she had twisted her hands before flaring them out, large red and orange flames dancing from her palms practically in waves, sparkling with her magic. He seemed impressed and called to the Owner, signing papers and offering for them to come for a check in about a week from then, and dubbing her the name Gadis, Indonesian for ‘Girl’. She wasn’t quite happy with the name as she didn’t want to be treated like a child when she was a fully capable adult, but she let it slide, thinking maybe she would grow to like the name. She never did. 

All bitty shops go to great extents to gauge those that come in, and for the bitties that were sensitive they did background checks... but there was always those that managed to slip through the cracks. 

Her new Owner stopped in front of a warehouse, taking her inside and setting her cage down in the middle of what looked to be dozens of others as eyes turned to hers, tired and/or scarred as she felt her soul drop to her feet. 

She doesn’t really like talking about her first night or any of them after that, but she has nightmares of injuring many many fellow bitties, and sometimes when she loses herself in nightmares or flashbacks she starts wheezing and choking like she’s trying to breath through dust.

It was to no end of her miseries though. She found reprieve in meeting with an Asgore bitty that was Fell as she was after fights, his cage placed next to hers. They had each other’s backs, tossing each other food when one of them lost and was made to go without food. 

However they should have known they were being watched, and within barely any time her friendship with him was shattered with drugs that mimic heat. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but they couldn’t even look at each other anymore. 

Sometimes she wondered as she watched her stomach grow if she was in some kind of nightmare. So many bad things happened to her that it was almost unreal to her. 

When the time came she was put under drugs, and when she woke up nearly three days later the Asriel bitty she had was gone. She was forced to abandon him, she had never even seen his face.

And it didn’t stop with that one Asgore, Fell Sans’ and other Asgores were forced onto her to the point that she could barely feel anything anymore, and she had been forcefully made to give up her babies without her consent. 

In the last one she remembers struggling for consciousness, being pumped with the drug so many times that her body was practically building an immunity to it. 

She remembers seeing the sweet face of the Asriel bitty with his sharp teeth and wet fur, his little eyes closed before he was removed and all she could do was lift her hand and slightly burn the hand taking him. 

She hoped it left a mark, though she thinks she was too weak to do so.

She knew she wasn’t the only one suffering there, not by a longshot. 

And again, bitties were not pets.  They were intelligent beings, and she knew if she was patient enough, one of them would break free, one of them would get lucky, and if everyone else was lucky enough then they would break everyone free. 

She prayed this way for years as scars webbed her body under her fur, her other horn breaking like the one that was naturally broken during a fight with another bitty, a tooth knocked out and two fingers broken and not reset in the right place. 

She knew it could have been worse, she could have been dead, but it didn’t make everything any less painful or harmful to her. 

When one day her suffering came to an end. 

The details were fuzzy, but she remembered a skull peeking to her through the bars of her cage. 

It was a bipedal Gaster Blaster Papyrus, his claws fumbling with the latch, clawing through the magic protecting it as he seemed to know all it’s weak points, swinging the cage open before running off to go and free others as she  stumbled out, watching after him before looking to see other bitties racing towards the exit out of his hellhole, and before she could stop herself her feet were stricken to follow, meeting with their human saviors, Bitty Activists.

Nearly weeks later she had learned about the place where no fells other than Raggedies like her stayed, jumping on the change as she entered the shop that at the time had three lamias and five bitties, one a Toriel like she was on a level. 

And she cried with hugging Toriel, spilling things to her she almost never thought she would be able to tell anyone. 

As of the moment she’s in therapy and taking pills for her PTSD, and the five bitties of Murder, Horror, Killer, Nightmare and Toriel united to shed her old name, taking the new one: Dona, meaning ‘Lady’. 

[riluu]

Supernova

For @magemg for the Ignoct White Day exchange. I’m sorry it’s late, I don’t know if you got my message about it being late, but I’ve been having horrific computer troubles lately.

I hope you like it enough to make up for the tardiness. <3 It’s older Ignoct with kittens and fluff and seriously I think I got a cavity writing it.

Ignis was blind, but he wasn’t stupid.

He knew when there was a creature in the citadel halls that shouldn’t be there- especially when said creature nearly sent him tumbling face down on the marble floors. He managed to recover without meeting that fate, though, even with a furry obstacle now winding around his ankles and purring like a motor.

He certainly wasn’t stupid enough to think that a cat could get in the citadel unaided. He sighed, and then turned around and went back the way he’d come, to where he could hear Noctis still putting away a few dishes in the cabinets of their private kitchen.

“Noct, care to tell me why I was nearly toppled by a cat in the hallway just now?” he asked, and he heard Noctis hesitate. He could practically hear the excuses being formed in his head; probably could have recited them himself, had he been feeling particularly smug. As it was, he let Noctis speak them instead.

“It’s going to rain tonight,” Noctis said, his voice some unique mix of pitiful and pleading. “It’s only for the night. Please?”

Ignis sighed in exasperation. The last thing they needed right now was a pet. And that was what would undoubtedly happen if Ignis allowed the cat to stay for the night; it would stay forever. He had no illusions that Noctis would boot the cat out as soon as the rain stopped.

He could come up with any number of reasons this was a bad idea. Cats were prone to destruction; scratching furniture, knocking glasses off tables, and generally being pests. He and Noctis were far too busy with the reconstruction to indulge an animal with the attention and care it would need.

But he could hear the need in Noctis’ voice. The desire for something simple to come home to, an animal with clear wants and needs, affection in the worst of times, none of the uncertainty that lay outside their citadel apartment.

He’d never been good at saying no to his king.

“Fine. Just for the night,” he finally said, even though he knew full well that he was signing up for years of dealing with a shedding, pesky animal in his home. And Noctis surely knew it too, given the arm that wrapped around Ignis’ waist, and the lips that ghosted across his cheek.

“Thanks, Iggy.”

“It’s not sleeping on the bed. I won’t be sharing bed space with a stray.”

“Cat stays off the bed. Got it.”

Ignis, of course, woke up the next morning to a heavy weight curled up on his chest. Somewhere beyond the irritation, he wondered just where this stray was finding enough food to have this much weight on her bones.

Life went on mostly as normal for the next few days, despite the feline addition to the household. Ignis shooed her away from his work and off the bed, and like a boomerang, she came back minutes later to make herself comfortable. Ignis drew the line at having sex with the cat around, forcing Noctis to banish her outside the bedroom with the door closed before he would indulge in anything of that sort.

Solstice had certainly made herself at home by the fourth night, when Ignis woke to hear a strange mewling sound. He reached out to find Noctis’ side of the bed empty and rather cold, which was alarming in and of itself; even when Noctis had nightmares, which was nearly every night, he didn’t flee the bed. He only attached himself to Ignis like some sort of baby kraken, drawing enough comfort from that to get back to sleep.

“Noct?” Ignis said softly, his voice still thick with sleep. He couldn’t sense any light through their window, so it must have been before sunrise.

He heard Noctis curse softly. “It’s nothing, Igs. Go back to sleep,” he said, and Ignis snorted as he sat up.

“Not bloody likely. What’s going on? Is Solstice alright?”

Not that he was truly worried about the cat. That was just a very strange, high pitched, squeak-like meow he was hearing. It didn’t sound like her, really. It sounded like…well, no. That wasn’t possible.

“Um. So, I didn’t really tell you everything. About the cat.”

Well, this didn’t bode well. Ignis took in a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let it out slowly. “Noctis, don’t tell me…”

Noctis coughed a little. “Well, she wasn’t fat. She was, um…pregnant.”

“Noctis Caelum.”

“I couldn’t leave a pregnant cat out in the rain!” Noctis immediately protested, and Ignis felt the bed dip with his weight as the king sat down beside him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew you wouldn’t let her stay if you knew-“

“You’re damned right about that one.”

“But we don’t have to keep the kittens! Just…let her raise them here, and then we’ll find homes for them. I’m sure Iris would take one. Maybe Prompto and Gladio, too. Please,” Noctis begged, and Ignis felt a warm hand close around his own. “Come on, they’r e just babies. I can’t dump them on the street.”

Oh, how Ignis wished they had a functioning animal shelter in the city. Perhaps that should be next on his infrastructure list.

“They’re gone the moment they’ve outgrown their need of her. I mean it, Noctis. We barely have time to properly look after one, let alone three or four.”

“Um…actually, she had seven.”

“…Astrals preserve me.”

At first, it wasn’t so bad, really. The kittens were too small and helpless to do much of anything than crawl all over their mother in the small nest-like box Noctis had set up for them in the living room. And Ignis had to admit, it was heartwarming to come home with Noctis after a long day of work and have him go straight to that box, checking on each kitten in turn and showering them in affection whilst Ignis got dinner ready.

He supposed he could have been jealous, but he was too busy being relieved that Noctis had found something that made him so happy.

He made sure to describe the kittens to Ignis, despite Ignis feigning zero interest in the creatures. Evidently the calico-colored Solstice had a paramour who was a tabby of some kind, since the kittens were a mix of both, some mottled calico colors, and some striped in greys and blacks.

Noctis made sure to get Ignis’ help in continuing the naming theme, even- which was how they ended up with Comet, Eclipse, Equinox, Meteor, Nebula, Nova, and Zenith. Ignis hardly cared when he couldn’t even tell the difference, and ended up calling them ‘pest’ and ‘no, stop that’ more often than not once they started venturing out of the box.

Though one of them did begin to grow on him a bit. Noctis said it was one of the little grey and black tabbies, the runt of the litter that they’d named Nova. Ignis didn’t mind that one so much; she seemed to get all her energy out playing with her siblings, and then come to sit on Ignis’ lap while he worked. He supposed that one wasn’t so bad.

And to Ignis’ surprise, Noctis stayed true to his word. He worked to find homes for the kittens, convincing Iris to take two home to be company to her young child while she was working as captain of the guard and her husband worked from home for the construction planning committee. Prompto evidently gave Gladio the puppy eyes until he agreed to take one. A couple of other Crownsguard members agreed to take the others- though on the day that it was time for them all to go to their new homes, Ignis found himself more melancholy about the whole affair than he would have liked.

He had to admit, their quarters in the citadel had been livelier in the past two months. Noctis had been noticeably happier, especially when his favorite of the kittens, a calico boy named Meteor, was causing havoc in the household.

They were down to two kittens left, and the living room was already noticeably quieter as Ignis sat on the couch reading a book, graceful fingers tracing across the Braille. His other hand was set on Nova’s back, stroking her soft fur gently as she purred, curled up in a ball on his lap.

“Here, let me see her for a second,” Noctis said, and Ignis reluctantly lifted his hand and allowed Noctis to pick up the kitten from his lap. He assumed the new owners must be on their way, and he tried to force down any disappointment that tried to rear up in him.

“Who’s taking her?” he asked, trying not to sound too interested, too invested. He heard Noctis fussing with the kitten a little, and then he set her back on Ignis’ lap, taking hold of his hand.

“Here,” he said, and he guided Ignis’ hand to the kitten’s neck, where a thin leather collar with a breakaway clasp now sat. But the leather wasn’t smooth; as he dragged his fingers across it, he could feel the Braille letters NOVA take shape under his fingertips.

“Noct…”

“Come on, you’re not fooling anyone, Iggy. Besides, I already got matching ones for Solstice and Meteor,” Noctis said, and Ignis paused for a moment before he shook his head and laughed.

“You presumptuous little minx.”

“Like I would give away your cat. Because she totally is, come on. She adores you.”

Ignis reached out to slide a hand around the back of Noctis’ neck, tugging him in for a slow, gentle kiss. “Not nearly as much as I adore you, which is very lucky for you right now.”

“I could have kept all seven.”

“Then you’d be out in the hallway with the cats instead of in the bedroom with me.”

“Do I really have to chase down three cats and lock them out anytime I want to sex you up?”

“Absolutely. Part of the price of pet ownership, Noct.”

Noctis kissed him again, and Ignis could feel him smiling into it. “I think I can deal with that,” Noctis said- just as Meteor leapt across Ignis’ lap to attack his sleepy sister.

It was a new normal, and perhaps not the kind of normalcy Ignis would have chosen, but…it made Noctis happy.

And that was more than enough.

[deeeepsteep]

I LOVE YOUR HUSKY, HE'S SO CUTE!! I'm thinking of getting one myself, do you have any tips?

Aw thanks anon, Milo appreciates your compliment

Huskies are beautiful dogs but they can be a handful if you don’t know what to expect tbh; I guess I’ll just run off whatever comes to mind lmao hopefully this all makes sense

I’m on mobile so I can’t do a read more soRRY FOR THE LONG BLOCK OF TEXT

- Huskies are very athletic, energetic dogs. I can’t stress this enough - this should be the number one point on every “Things You Should Know Before Getting A Siberian Husky” list. Most people give up their huskies because they don’t realize how much energy they have. They were bred to pull heavy sleds for extremely long distances, so they have a lot of pent-up energy that needs to be released. Huskies need A LOT, and I stress on A LOT, of exercise. My dad takes Milo out for a 45 minute walk in the morning and I take Milo for a 45 minute walk in the evening, and by the end of the day he still has enough energy to sprint laps around our backyard. If they don’t have a productive outlet for their energy, it will manifest in very destructive behaviours. If you don’t think you can keep up with that, I don’t recommend getting a husky - or any sort of dog that falls under the “working category”, to be honest. These kinds of dogs need something to do or else they’ll find their own way to release their energy, like destroying things around the house or barking excessively.

That being said, Milo is an AMAZING exercise companion. Power walking? He’s down. Jogging? He’s your guy. Hiking/long distance walking? He’s all for it. You even go sprinting if you want; he’ll be able to keep up with you. Sometimes I even hop on my cruiser and let him pull me down the street - it’s the closest he’ll ever get to sledding lol. Not only does he get his exercise, but I do too, so it’s a win-win for both of us. If you’re looking for a running buddy or a pal to go on adventures with, huskies are great for that.

- Huskies don’t bark, but they can be incredibly noisy. I somehow got the one husky that makes absolutely no noise (Milo’s so quiet that I often forget he’s there), but for the most part huskies are very vocal dogs. They howl, and they love to “talk” to you and other animals. If you prefer a social dog, huskies are the breed for you, but it can get exhausting, and your neighbours might not be so fond of it either.

- Huskies can be very difficult to train. A lot of people think huskies are stupid because they aren’t as responsive to commands as, say, a German Shepherd or a Lab. They’re not stupid at all - Siberian Huskies are very independent by nature and they don’t live to please their humans; they’ll do pretty much whatever they want whenever they want. They weren’t bred for obedience; they were bred for their athleticism. If you’re looking for a dog who’s willing to do everything and anything with you, a husky might not be the best breed.

Milo won’t do anything for me if he doesn’t see a benefit in doing it; if I want him to a trick, there has to be something in it for him, like a treat or a few minutes of playtime. Huskies respond best to positive reinforcement, and like most dogs they learn best when you start training them as early as possible. Puppy classes are extremely helpful for stubborn/independent dogs - though some huskies are so clever that they’re actually able to tell the difference between a class and just training at home. They know to behave when they’re in class, but if you try the same training methods at home it might be a completely different story lol. Huskies can be super manipulative - they really know how to get what they want, so the key is to maintain consistent, and to be firm. Huskies are very pack-oriented and if they don’t sense a clear/obvious leadership role within their pack, they’ll have no problem taking it for their own. 

If a husky allows you to pet and cuddle it for a little while, and then suddenly it’ll get annoyed and walk off, don’t be offended. Again, huskies can be incredibly independent and not a lot of them look for validation from humans. They’re kind of like cats in dogs’ bodies lmao sometimes they don’t mind being affectionate, and sometimes they’d rather have their own space. It’s completely up to them.

Of course, it’s a case-by-case basis. There are some Golden Retrievers out there who may not like to play fetch (Btw, a lot of huskies don’t play fetch. They weren’t bred to retrieve, so it’s not something that comes naturally to them like Labs or other breeds that fall under the Hunting category). No two dogs are alike, just like humans! They each have their own personality, so you might get the one-off super affectionate husky.

That being said, a lot of huskies HATE being alone, which is weird - this is another instance where they can be very cat-like. They don’t want your attention, but they don’t want you being away from them either. They can get very upset if they’re left alone - I think this stems from their instinctual desire to be in a pack, so they always feel the need to be part of a group or a family. There are various ways to train and condition your dog to adapting on being on its own - because realistically, you can’t be around your dog 24/7, it’s gonna have to be alone every once in awhile. Some dogs just need more time and effort to get used to it, that’s all! Just be patient, consistent, and firm - this goes for overall training your husky, not just in terms of being left alone. 

- Prepare to have fur EVERYWHERE. Siberian Huskies are from…well, Siberia, and Siberia can get super cold. To cope with this, huskies have two layers of fur to keep them warm - and when you have two layers of fur, there’s twice the amount of shedding. You will find hair everywhere, and I mean everywhere. My mom brushes Milo three times a week and there’s still an abundance of hair around the house. If you get a husky - or any breed from the Spitz family, really - be prepared to do a lot of sweeping and vacuuming.

Dogs with double-layered coats will go through a period of super heavy shedding during parts of the year when the seasons change, usually when summer turns into fall and when winter turns into spring. There’ll be even MORE fur than usual, and it can come out in clumps - like….you can legit grab fistfuls of a husky’s fur and it’ll come out just like that. Since my mom brushes Milo so frequently we’ve never gone through that, fortunately, so my advice is to brush them as often as you can. Two to three times a week minimum…and you’ll probably have to vacuum at least once or twice a week just to keep your house tidy.

But there are upsides to this as well!! Their coats aren’t as oily as other breeds, so they don’t have that “dog” smell to them. They’re also very clean breeds and only need baths a few times a year (Milo actually hates water; giving him a bath is a nightmare). Huskies also clean themselves like cats do; it’s so weird. They also don’t need to go to the groomer, since they shed all of their fur anyway. You’re not supposed to shave a husky’s fur, even when it’s super hot out, because their long fur protects their sensitive skin from the sun.

- They don’t eat often. Huskies adapted to living in the Siberian Arctic, where food can be scarce. They are incredibly energetic and can burn off a lot of energy, but surprisingly they only need a little bit of food each day to get by - especially for their size. Milo only eats one a day, and he only eats 2 cups of his food at most. Sometimes he’ll only eat one cup, sometimes he’ll eat a cup and a half. If you try to force him to eat any more than that, he’ll ignore you. 

I’m not sure if this is a general husky thing or if this is just a Milo thing, but Milo’s a super picky eater. He gets bored of his food fast so we always have to find new, creative ways to get him to eat. We’ll add shredded chicken on top, or crush his favourite treats into powder and sprinkle that over his food. 

- They’re shitty guard dogs. Most people think huskies would make good protectors because of their intimidating, wolf-like appearance - but in reality they’re nothing like their wolfy ancestors, even though they look a lot like them. Huskies are extremely friendly dogs and most of them are warm towards strangers. Milo LOVES people, and he’ll run up and kiss whoever allows him to, even if it’s just a random person who passes us by when we’re on a walk. I’m sure if a burglar ever broke into my house, Milo wouldn’t do anything except beg the guy to play with him.

- Huskies have a high prey drive. This means they’ll usually chase after anything that moves, especially if they’re smaller. If you have a cat or any other small animal in the house, you have to take a lot of precaution because huskies can end up accidentally killing or hurting them. Usually if the husky is a puppy, they’ll grow up with the other animals and so they learn how to behave around them, but if you’re adopting an older husky, it might be difficult. 

That’s all I can think of right now tbh, but I think I got a lot of the main parts down. This is all speaking from personal experience and from the research I did before I got Milo, so I hope it’s informative enough for you!!

[shannaraisles]

This started as an exercise for getting into Erin’s head, and ballooned a little. The title is absolute pants, but I was drawing a blank. Hope you like it!

A Gift

"If that is all," Doshiel said, straightening from his lean over the map, "I believe I need to have a word with my daughter before she scandalizes our good ambassador with her approach to Orlesian noblewomen again."

"Oh, no, not another one?" Josephine asked in dismay, moving toward the door at the Inquisitor's side.

Erin glanced up from the little table set up in the corner where she took notes on every advisors' meeting, a soft sense of anxiety at being needed elsewhere assuaged by the ambassador's gentle smile and wave for her to take her time. She nodded, settling back into her seat to tidy the notes she had just taken, scanning over them to be certain she knew who had said what and what decisions had been made. Habit had her listening with half-an-ear to the remaining advisors' conversation, which seemed more cryptic than usual.

"Did you find one?" Cullen was asking, the familiar creak of his leather and plate betraying his own posture straightening.

Leliana's voice sounded amused. "Several, in fact," she agreed, the Orlesian lilt in her voice always more pronounced when she was in a merrier mood. "Blackwall is keeping a close eye, but I believe it is a good time to make the right impression."

"I see. Thank you."

Footsteps passed over the flagstones; the door groaned open and shut. Silence fell, broken only by the sound of two pairs of lungs breathing sedately and the scratch of Erin's quill over her parchment. Whatever that had been about, clearly it wasn't for her to know. Anyway, the silence was welcome. Of course it was welcome. She wasn't concerned about being left alone with the commander. It wasn't as though she'd caught herself dreaming about him or anything. Besides, dreams didn't count. She'd had plenty of dreams about attractive men in her lifetime, and nothing had ever come of it. Even here, where the Fade seemed to rule everyone but herself and Cedric, dreams couldn't possibly be prophetic. Hell, she didn't even know if her dreams were in any way accurate. Could a man really be that simultaneously erotic and tender at the same time?

A secretive smile lit up her face for a split second. If any man could do it, she was willing to bet Commander Cullen could.

"Erin?"

She glanced up guiltily at the sound of her name on her fantasy man's lips. No, not her fantasy man - the real thing, standing next to her little work station with a curious look on his handsome face. He looked ... almost nervous. What did he have to be nervous about? She was the weirdo from another world who still didn't know how everything worked around here. And was having inappropriate thoughts about someone who had never been anything but kind to her.

"Yes, sir? Ah, commander?" She winced internally - when was she going to start using the right titles for people here?

Cullen's lips pulled into the briefest suggestion of a smile at her stumble over how to address him. "Are you done here? I, uh ... there is something I would like your opinion on."

Trying to ignore the sudden twang of something hot and prickly connected directly to her lady-parts, Erin almost knocked the chair over jolting onto her feet. "Of course, s- ... commander, I ..." She glanced down at her work, torn between following the whim of doing whatever he wanted of her and finishing the work that needed to be done. "It-it won't take all day, will it?"

A quiet chuckle escaped him as he followed her gaze to the notes on her desk. "No," he promised, his tone unexpectedly warm. "You will have plenty of time to complete your duties. Come, a walk will do you well. You have been inside for too long as it is."

"Oh, you ... you notice things like that," she mumbled in embarrassment, dipping her head as she turned to follow him out into the drafty corridor.

He was noticing things about her? Why? What could he possibly see in her that would invite him to look closer? She was just an outsider they had to keep close in case nasty magicians tried to make her go back to that Fade nightmare again, that was all. Not that she was complaining - all things considered, she would much rather be here with the Inquisition than left to her own devices out there in a world that didn't even know what a flush toilet was. Besides, out there, she wouldn't have any friends, any colleagues ... any handsome commanders to admire as discreetly as she was able. She was beginning to think she wasn't that discreet now. She was going to have to reel it in, before anyone else noticed she was noticing the commander. Bad enough that he'd noticed. Maybe if she could manage to hold it in for long enough, he'd forget it ever happened.

Decision made, Erin raised her head as they passed through the ambassador's office, mercifully empty of Josephine for the time being, aware that a very small part of herself was protesting the decision at all. Protesting the fact that she felt the need to hide every part of herself that might possibly invite rejection or humiliation, the way she held the world at more than arms' length. Better to be lonely than hurt was not the way she wanted to live, but it was a lifelong habit now. Breaking it would take more than a moment of staring where others could see her preferences show. Breaking that habit now, in the middle of a war, was just a bad idea, period.

"You are settling into Skyhold, I hope?"

She blinked, belatedly realizing that the commander was actually holding the door into the main hall open for her as he spoke. A dull flush darkened her cheeks as she skipped hurriedly through, pausing to wait for him before falling into step just behind his stride.

"I have somewhere warm to sleep and work to keep me busy," she agreed, carefully not mentioning that she wasn't sleeping in the room she had been assigned to. That was not something she wanted to broadcast. The last thing she wanted was to gain a reputation for being difficult.

"But you still miss your home," Cullen pointed out in a quiet tone, ignoring the nobles who simpered at his passage in favor of glancing down at her, it seemed.

Erin's gaze flickered to meet his for less than a heartbeat before she turned her eyes forward once again. "This is my home now," she told him carefully. "There's no way to send me back, we did prove that. So -"

"That isn't what I was asking, Erin."

Her brow knitted uncomfortably as she looked down at her feet. She didn't want to be having this conversation. Thinking about Earth - about home - opened up the gaping maw of loneliness in her chest, that black hole she didn't think was ever going to close. It might not have been perfect, she might not have been happy, but she had at least fitted there, in her own anxious way. Here in Thedas ... she didn't think she was ever going to fit. She had no father, no siblings, no anchor to reality to ground her and keep her from flying to pieces at the worst moment. Perhaps most painfully, she had no Dare, with his tuxedo fur and warm paws, to give her the illusion of being loved. Her throat tightened into a thick lump just at the memory of her pet.

A warm hand touched her shoulder, drawing her feet to a stumbling halt as she jerked her head up, swallowing down that lump and the tears that wanted to fall to brave the kind expectation of the commander's gaze.

"Forgive me. I should not press for such answers." Cullen's expression gentled as he studied her carefully blank expression. "But you should know that you have a place here, for as long as you wish it. You have friends, people who care for you. Though your place of birth may be far out of your reach, you are not alone here, Erin."

A lifetime of hiding what her mother had deemed "negative" emotions didn't let her react to his kindness with the honesty it deserved. Instead, she drew in a deep breath, forcing that need for tears behind walls that buckled with the weight of everything hidden away, and offered up a wry sort of smile in its place.

"I'm always alone, commander," she said quietly. "But thank you."

For a moment, she could have sworn he wanted to argue with her. His brow, so often lined with a frown from the headaches he endured, knitted deeper; his mouth opened ... but he, too, seemed able to suppress what his instincts wanted him to express aloud. He simply sighed, offering her a faint quirk of his lips to match her own fraudulent smile.

"I understand." He nodded, straightening up to his full height once again. "Come."

With a gesture, he beckoned to her to walk with him once again, and together they emerged into the blistering midday sun. It never ceased to amaze Erin that it could get so hot in Skyhold, when the mountain peaks all around them never shed their snowy cloak. Inside the stone walls, it was always just a little chilly, and yet out here, they were baking beneath the summer sun. By the time they reached the lower courtyard, she was sweating, embarrassed to be so obviously overheated in just her shirt and vest when the commander was carrying plate armor, leather, and that furred mantle of his, and seemed only slightly warm. She tugged her scarf loose from her throat, glad she'd held onto her practice of winding her braid about her head, even in the face of Cedric's teasing about princesses and nerf-herders.

But why were they in the lower courtyard, she wondered. This wasn't the way to his office - they'd passed both sets of steps that would lead up to the battlements. Was she going to be dismissed? Had they already packed what little she owned onto a horse she couldn't ride, was that why they were walking to the stables? She felt the beginning of familiar panic starting to rise, her expression quite suddenly absolutely blank once again as she focused in on herself.

Rationalize, don't catastrophize. The worst that could possibly happen is that they're going to execute you or throw you back into a rift, and you know they won't do that. Cullen just told you that you're not alone, that you have a place here. He doesn't lie. Either he's lying to you or you're lying to yourself, and let's be honest, you don't have the best track record of being truthful with yourself, do you? So calm the fuck down and think about this.

Her mind ticked back to what she had overheard in the War Room. Cullen had made an inquiry, Leliana had said something about Blackwall, and Blackwall frequented the stables. So Cullen was taking her to look at whatever it was Blackwall was keeping a close eye on for Leliana. Erin felt her panic recede. Thank god for therapists who give tools and not solutions.

"Master Dennet." Cullen nodded to the horsemaster as he lead the way into the stable, twisting a little to be certain she was still following him.

"Commander." The horsemaster barely glanced up, answering as one professional to another. "Last stall, behind the Warden's little workshop."

"Thank you."

To Erin's surprise, Cullen seemed to grow lighter with that cryptic comment, a smoother glide to his step as he paused to lay a gloved hand gently against the curve of her spine. She almost managed not to flinch away from the touch, quickly relaxing. It had taken a while, but she was finally learning that such touches were considered common courtesy here, not a prelude to some horror she'd only ever heard about in awful stories on the internet anyway. Cullen was guiding her, not forcing her to go where he chose; she could escape that touch at any time she decided to. Maybe one day, she'd be able to accept it without upsetting him with her immediate reaction.

"Commander ... why are we here?" she ventured after a moment's internal battle, trying not to breathe too deeply. The whole ... fresh county air mixed with fresh manure thing wasn't really her favorite scent in the world. It seemed as though whenever people mentioned fresh air around here, they meant poop.

"You will see in a moment," he promised, gently laying just a little pressure on her back to urge her forward ahead of him, toward the stall that was tucked behind Blackwall's little woodworking table.

The Grey Warden himself was still working on his oddly feathered rocking horse, laying down his tools at their approach. Erin hesitated as he turned to look at them, something knowing in his stoic gaze just a little unnerving. What was going on here?

"Are they there?" Cullen asked Blackwall, an almost eager tone in his voice.

"Aye, they are," the man answered, his accent always putting her in mind of Sean Bean from any number of movies where the man's characters died. She hoped that wasn't the case for this man. "First pick goes to you, Inquisitor's orders."

If anything, this just confused Erin further. What did Doshiel Lavellan have to do with all this? And again, why was she being involved in whatever this was? She glanced to Cullen in bemusement, startled to find that sometimes gentle look of his aimed directly at her.

"First pick of what?" she found herself asking, shy of making it a demand. "What's going on?"

"Don't fret yourself," Blackwall told her, gesturing toward the stall. "Take a look."

Deeply-held suspicions clanging in the back of her mind - is this a trick? Will they laugh at me? What if I hate this? - Erin gathered her courage to step past the Warden and peer over the slatted door into the stall, aware of a vaguely familiar chorus of small sounds from inside amid the rustle of hay. What she found there almost brought tears to her eyes all over again.

"Oh ..."

Tumbling awkwardly over the hay that covered the packed earth floor and each other were five kittens, not more than three months old at her best guess. The mother, a beautiful tabby, was sitting imperiously on a barrel above them, keeping a watchful eye on their antics and on anyone who dared to look in on them. She met Erin's gaze, accepting the slow blink that was offered her way, and answered it with a slow blink of her own, jumping down to cross the stall and leap up onto the narrow door's edge to greet the visitor properly.

Instantly, Erin was reminded of Dare, her own cat from home, who was fearless in the face of strangers and an instant flirt with anyone who showed even the slightest interest in him. This queen was just as fearless, sniffing curiously at the hand she offered before rubbing her cheek along her knuckles, inviting the head rub Erin gave her in answer.

"Aren't you beautiful?" she murmured to the purring feline, delighted with the friendly response. The cat looked down at the kittens briefly. "Yes, they're beautiful, but you are the most beautiful because you made them. And you're such a good mum, too."

Strange, how speaking aloud to animals never made her feel even half as exposed as speaking to other people did, even when other people were there to witness it. She knew Cullen and Blackwall were close enough to hear every word, but the anxious upset she usually felt in her chest and stomach when speaking was absent when her conversational companion was an animal. Especially when it was a cat.

The feline glanced down at the kittens once again, and this time, Erin thought she recognized the behavior as an invitation.

"May I?"

"Of course," Blackwall answered from behind her. "Climb in."

"Well, I was talking to the cat, but thank you," Erin told him over her shoulder with a cheeky smile, inwardly thrilled to hear Cullen choke on a laugh as she climbed over the stall door to step down carefully onto the hay.

The kittens scattered, as she had expected them to, glad to find that even in a different world some things remained constant and predictable. The mother had jumped down with her, so she sat herself on the uncomfortable floor of the stall, raising her eyes to the door as Cullen leaned into view.

"Are you not going to choose one?" he asked her, curiosity brightening his eyes as he watched her fingers trail lightly over the adult feline's back with absent affection.

Erin felt her heart constrict for just a moment. "I-is that what this is about?"

Cullen hesitated, an awkward grimace of a smile touching his face as he raised his hand to rub at his neck - something he did when he was uncomfortable or nervous, she'd noticed. "Ah, well, I ... you were rather heartbroken to leave your nug behind in Haven," he pointed out. "And I have heard you speak of a cat you once owned. I thought - that is, we thought - that perhaps you might like another."

"Ignore the we in that sentence," Blackwall's voice floated to them, sounding as though he was not even trying to hide his bearded grin. "The commander was very clear."

Erin's eyes tracked back to Cullen, disbelieving amazement painting her face as inside her an unfamiliar battle was taking place. She was so used to suppressing everything, to faking the appropriate response, that just feeling real happiness rising in her chest was a shock to the system. Having to fight the urge to push it aside was even harder on the senses. But ... she was happy, she realized. Happy that he'd noticed her, happy that he paid such close attention that he somehow knew she needed something small and furry to cuddle when she was feeling lonely. Happy that he had apparently all but given orders to make sure that this litter was left unmolested until the kittens were old enough to be separated, just so that she could have the first pick of them. She wasn't sure anyone had ever gone so far out of their way to anything like this for her, without even knowing for certain how she would react. It was ... a fragile sort of feeling, but rather wonderful, in its own way. She just didn't have the words to express it.

A small furry head bumped her relaxed fingers, drawing her attention down to the kitten that that decided to be brave. It was a black fluffball, smaller by far than the others who were watching warily. As she lowered her eyes to it, the tiny kitten bumped her fingers with its cheek once again, raising one wobbly paw to bat at her without much coordination. Pinprick claws scratched over her skin, sharp and certainly painful, but she'd grown used to accidental mauling with Dare. She didn't even flinch, instead letting herself laugh a little as she rubbed a fingertip over the little black head.

"Hello yourself," she responded to the insistent push, lifting her hand to let the little thing clamber unsteadily onto her knee. "You're a brave one, aren't you? Are all those others just big bullies who don't let you eat enough?"

The little head rose to emit a plaintive meow, big blue eyes blinking hopefully up at her. And just like that, she forgot she was being watched. Her hand gently scooped beneath the small creature that wanted her attention, lifting it up to her face to offer another slow, reassuring blink. It was only just big enough to fill her palm and fingers, easily the runt of the litter - not skinny, but not flourishing as its siblings were. The pale blue eyes blinked back at her, and then winked, the little mouth releasing another meow as she laughed softly at the rather sweet gesture. With a practiced hand, she tilted the little creature up to check on one rather vital statistic.

"Oh, you're a girl," she declared softly, turning the kitten the right way up again to kiss the soft head. This got a purr of approval and a rather hard face bunt in return, but Erin was already charmed. She was a firm believer that you didn't choose a cat, they chose you, and by the look of things, this little darling had already chosen her.

"Do you like her?"

Her gaze snapped up at the sound of Cullen's voice, so tentatively hopeful. He was watching her with a strange softness in his own eyes, something she might almost have called protective admiration if he'd been looking at anyone else. As the kitten clambered from her hand to her shoulder, investigating the braided crown of her hair, Erin felt herself smile - a real, honest smile, for possibly the first time.

"She's beautiful," she told him, only wincing a little as small claws tugged at her hair. "Is ... may I really have her?"

"She's yours."

Two words that set something in stone, made all the more precious for coming from him. Erin felt herself blush as her expression turned to gratitude, lifting her new friend from her shoulder to rub her cheek into the warm fur. She wasn't Dare, but this little one would go a long way to healing that particular hurt. So maybe Cullen was right. Maybe she truly wasn't alone here, after all.

[stripestheboar]

Stagnant Decay: Chapter 7

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Summary: Papyrus now needs to be careful with both Dust and Sans in the house, but at least he sets up a meeting with a good friend.

The day didn’t last long after Sans came home. Dust talked about leaving, getting up after finishing only a portion of his spaghetti, and just where he wanted to go, Papyrus didn’t know and didn’t bother to ask. However, he didn’t hesitate to stop him.

“Don’t…” he had started, catching the other’s attention as he was getting up. “Hmm?” Dust murmured, looking over at him with a sagged expression with little shift in emotion. They spoke in hushed whispers on his insistence, not wanting Sans to hear a word about it. As laid back as his brother was, he thought keeping his brother’s copy in his own room. This was especially concerning due to his brother’s… well, specific talents, as Dust knew.

“Please don’t hurt...” Papyrus trailed off, not being able to find the right words to say. Dust didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, as the other had more to say and made an attempt once more. “I know you don’t...”

Well, he thought he had more to say, but couldn’t get the words out. Flashes of the dust pile he found Dust with sparked in his memory.  

He didn’t know what he was supposed to say.

“Don’t leave,” he finally decided on. “You can stay in my room again.” He paused for a moment, looking outside. “Besides, you need some rest. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

Dust tilted his head, but gave a slow nod in return, grinning a little wider. “Whatever you say, Paps. You’re always right.” And with that, he disappeared. Papyrus heard a little creak from upstairs, usually where his room would be located, signaling that his new roommate had done as asked. He let out a small sigh of relief, turning off the TV and going to put the rest of the spaghetti in a container. He walked over to the fridge and opened it up, surprised to see it already filled to the brim with more spaghetti and a single bag of half-eaten chips. How did he keep forgetting those were in there?

With a heavy sigh, he grabbed one of the spaghetti containers inside and opened it up, leaving it on the floor just in front of the large kitchen sink. Within a moment, the doors creaked open and a fluffy white face immediately dug into the food. “At least you’re useful for something,” he scoffed, putting the new container away. His fridge was absolutely filled with the food, and he didn’t want to waste it by throwing it away. Though, it wasn’t like he was going to eat his own spaghetti or anything.

Well, to be fair, almost no one else did, either. Not anymore, anyways.

Once the bowl was emptied, he placed it into the sink and washed it out, putting it away neatly before starting on cleaning the rest of the house.

As Papyrus was starting to mop the floor to be rid of any dog fur, his cellphone rang. He blinked in confusion, calls to his cell being rather rare. Of course, he answered in an instant, not wanting to keep the caller on hold.

“Papyrus!” came the familiar voice of his former mentor. The jovial had his soul lift as soon as he heard her speak. “Undyne! Oh how ecstatic I am to hear you call! What can the Great Papyrus do for you?” He heard a light laugh on the other end, listening to her move around the room as she talked to him. She was in her kitchen. Well, her and Alphys’ kitchen now. “Hey, it’s been a while since we talked. Well, face to face, anyways. I think our Undernet inboxes have over a bajillion messages just from talking to each other. So what’s up, punk? How ya been?”

“Oh, grand as usual,” he hummed, tucking the phone between his skull and his clavicle so he could finish up on his mopping. “Yes, it’s been an eternity! Though, with all your Royal Guard duties and such, I’m sure you’ve had enough on your plate for chatter with your favorite trainee.”

Papyrus noticed Sans saunter down the stairs from the corner of his sockets. The older sibling gave a chuckle, wandering over to the couch and flopping down onto its soft cushions.  

“Yeah, it’s been forever, huh?” Undyne agreed, clearly handing something glass related on her side of the phone. She was making herself some tea. “So, how’s everything on your end? With Alphys and the anime and the marriage?” her friend asked, genuinely curious to hear her blabber on about her life, this time coming from her own mouth instead of over the phone. “Shit, man, where do I begin?” she chuckled. “Fuck- don’t repeat that word to Sans. Anyways, I could tell you everything, buuuut...”

“Buuuut?” Papyrus repeated, the tops of his sockets raising some. “What is it Undyne?” There was a bit of silence on her end, before he heard her chuckle. “Well, I get the day off tomorrow. Y’know, one of bunch that I have. Alphys thinks I need a bit of a rest from all this guarding. She’s gonna be working tomorrow, so I was think of, y’know, doing some training. Wanna come over? For old times sake? It’s been a while since we’ve trained together.”

Papyrus was immediately ecstatic. “Oh that sounds amazing! I’d love to come over as soon as the time allows! We haven’t trained in so long!” He could tell Undyne was grinning on the other end. “Yeah, it’s been-“

“Ten months and three days, I know!”

Undyne went silent on the other end. After a quick moment, he heard her chuckle. “Yeah, you been keeping track huh? You always did have the freaky memory, huh? So, how’s six sound?”

“AM?”

“Whoa. PM, punk,” she laughed. “Just because you barely get any sleep, doesn’t mean I have to do the same.” Papyrus made an unsure hum. “I’ve been getting more sleep lately. Mostly because I don’t have much to do nowadays. I have good nights and bad nights.”

“Yeah yeah. So, tomorrow at six?”

“Tomorrow at six.”

Papyrus was upstairs by seven after having watched he sun yet an hour ago, carrying his sleepy brother under his arm. Luckily, he didn’t see Dust lurking around; he had the feeling things wouldn’t go well if the two happened to see each other. He couldn’t even decide if it was a good idea to have Dust inside the house in the first place. Well, he could keep him in the shed, but he didn’t think he really had the soul to try and keep him there. Plus, he doubted someone who resembled his brother would comply with staying there, even if he offered a bed and a mini-fridge.

He set Sans down next to the door leading to his locked room, giving him a little shake on his clavicle. The older sibling gave a little grunt as he was woken up, his sockets opening wearily as he let out a tired noise, before looking over at the door. “Ah. Thanks, bro,” he chuckled, before moving in the opposite direction, disappearing once he was out of His brother’s view. No doubt he landed in his bed, safe and sound for the night. Papyrus let out a happy hum as he made his way back to his room, opening the door and pausing when he saw Dust.

Dust sat in the computer chair, muttering unintelligible whispers to himself as he sat cross-legged and huddled into the chair’s cushion. He tilted his skull, his brow furrowed on slight confusion. It was a bit weird, but he didn’t exactly mind. The smaller skeleton wasn’t moving, either. He didn’t tap his phalanges or sway a foot; he seemed perfectly still, even as he spoke softly to himself. Of course, skeletons didn’t need to move their jaws to talk, and Sans rarely did so, but he almost felt as though it was unnatural watching this. Deep down, some part of him wanted to believe this was some elaborate, supremely unfunny joke from his obnoxious brother, but he knew it could never be.

“Oh, you’re back,” Dust suddenly spoke, seeming to have noticed Papyrus’ presence in the room for the first time. He seemed to have brightened up considerably, his grin broadening. “Hey, bro.”

Papyrus felt a strange twinge when he heard that.

“You’re not asleep,” he noted worriedly, coming in the room with his voice toned down considerably. “No, I’m not,” the other shrugged, the grin fading slightly. “It’s seven PM.”

He never thought he’d hear that in his brother’s voice again.

“You’re right, but you’re also very tired,” he told him, sitting down on his bed. “You should at least get a bit of rest. Staying up late every day shouldn’t be achieved unless you’re as great and hearty as I am.” He looked over to his closet, deciding to go over and get changed into his nighttime attire while awaiting a response. Unfortunately, one never came. He looked back at Dust, who stared back at him in return. He’s not proud to admit it, but he felt a little shiver hit his spine for a few seconds. He looked inside his closet, noticing his laptop and headphones were there from a previous night. A sudden thought came to his mind.

“Is it because of nightmares?” he asked. This seemed to have caught Dust off guard. “Huh?” came the raspy reply, having caught the smaller monster’s attention.  

“Nightmares. Are you having nightmares? Is that the problem?” Papyrus repeated, closing the closet behind him and getting dressed in the dark space. No reply came to him whilst he changed, and none came once he exited the room. There was only that tired, signature stare the other gave.

“Well if it’s nightmares that haunt you, you can count on the Great Papyrus to protect you,” he declared, perhaps a little louder than necessary. “As an expert mare-fighting force of magic, I know plenty of remedies on how to cure nightmares.” Dust’s expression waned some, a chuckle leaving him as he uncrossed his legs. “You’re really adamant about this, aren’t you?” he sighed, slumping against the cushion of the chair. “Well if I’m to be a proper host, I must know that you’re healthy and well taken care of!” he huffed, grossing his arms on an almost parent-like manner. “Fine fine,” the other gave in, closing his sockets and curling up onto the chair. Within seconds, he was asleep.  

Even with the Z’s slowly starting to float above his skull and disappearing, Papyrus wasn’t all too convinced. He watched him for a few seconds, before getting on with turning off the lights and doing a few puzzles in bed with the assistance of a flashlight.

A few puzzles turned into a few hours worth of crosswords and sudoku. He glanced over at Dust once again, watching the large Z’s float away in a small formation. He looked to his closet, before slowly getting up and walking over to the sleeping skeleton. He waved a hand in front of the other’s face, and while there was a small twitch, that was natural. He seemed to be completely asleep. As a final test, he gently poked him, but the only response given was a small jolt. Once again, that was natural, given his nature.

Now in the clear, Papyrus quietly moved towards the closet, opening it up a tad and slipping inside, closing it behind him. Sitting down on the floor, he slipped the laptop onto his lap, but pushed the headphones away this time. He enjoyed the convenience of a portable computer, as it allowed him more privacy than really necessary. He’ll admit, he just enjoyed bringing it into the closet when he would stay up late at night. It felt nice and closed off.  

First, he began cruising through the internet, checking statuses and talking with internet buddies. All the talking was one-sided for some reason, but he was always happy to help answer their unheard voices when they couldn’t type him. It would last a good thirty minutes before he decided to go on to watch a bit of Mettaton.

He smiled lightly, watching the dimly-lit screen in mild comfort, before he heard the unmistakable sound of the closet door opening. Moonlight flooded in through crack of a shadow that caped over the bit of Papyrus that wasn’t illuminated by the laptop screen. He looked up at the brightly shining eyelights that peered down at him.

The two stared at one another.

“It looks like you’re awake,” Papyrus hummed. “Yeah…” Dust murmured, not taking his sockets off of the other. The younger skeleton looked down at his laptop, pausing the video. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, but he got no reply. “Did you sleep at all?” Once again, there was no reply. Papyrus looked up at him with a worried expression. “You know, I don’t completely disapprove of naps, if that’s what you’ve heard,” he told him. “I just… don’t like the long ones.”

“So this is where you go when you don’t sleep?” Dust rasped, opening the closet door a little wider. Papyrus gave a shrug. “Well, yes. The only skeletons in my closet are me sometimes.” Dust tilted his skull, but said nothing as he sat down beside he taller monster, who gave him a curious look. He just stayed silent as he leaned over, pressing the play button on the screen and sitting back to watch.

Papyrus didn’t protest. As much as he enjoyed the privacy of his closet, he didn’t think he had the willpower to tell him to go. It wasn’t that he minded, though. Dust seemed to really like being around him, and who was he to deny him? He could use the company, too.