#Atypical Pup

[itsladykit]

A day at the beach, pt. 2

CW: Story-typical references to drowning, PTSD, and murder.

A/N: A big thanks to @maddieblay . They posted this amazing comic years ago, and it definitely sparked this chapter, though you can see I have deviated WILDLY from their original idea. I hope you enjoy regardless. ^_^

-

Cash looked up from the bottom of the pool as the dragon came to sit by the edge. His good socket narrowed as the dragon’s legs broke the surface to dangle in the water.

He wasn’t that stupid, was he?

Cash lashed his tail, propelling himself upward. He trailed a hand over the dragon’s leg—reminding him of his foolishness—before breaking the surface to glare up at him. The damn dragon just grinned, unaffected by the implied threat. Cash was sorely tempted to drag him down for that alone.

“Heya, sweetheart. Wan’ed ta talk ta ya.”

Cash snorted, ready to dive back down. The dragon may want to talk to him, but Cash had nothing to—

“’M takin’ Pup ta the beach. See the ocean. Thought maybe ya’d wanna come with us.” Cash stared at him, not sure he’d heard correctly. “I mean, ya don’ gotta, if ya don’ wanna. Jus’ thought ya might—”

His hand shot out, gripping the dragon by the front of his jacket. He couldn’t sign with one hand occupied, but he hoped his glare was fierce enough to convey his meaning. Infuriatingly, the dragon just smiled and nodded. “Thought so.”

For his smugness, Cash   him into the pool. He gripped him around the ribcage, using his weight—and the dragon’s own heavy bones—to drag him down to the bottom. The dragon’s sockets went wide, and his hands tightened around Cash’s ribs. He stared up at the water’s surface, bubbles streaming from his mouth and nasal aperture. Then his bones elongated, and the dragon’s huge talons closed over his torso, gripping him as they rocketed out of the water. Cash shook his head, blinking. Water streamed from the dragon’s bones, and torn strips of clothing fell away from him. He stood upright in the pool, looking down at Cash from his elongated neck. He cocked his head, mana dripping from his cracked socket as he studied the siren held so carefully in his hands.

Cash swallowed, remembering all at once just how big the dragon was in his native form. And without an ocean at his back, the siren felt a great deal smaller. Still, he caught and held the dragon’s eyelight as he lowered his head and bit down on the finger curled over his ribs.

The dragon’s ribcage rumbled with a low vibration felt more than heard. Cash braced himself, only to realize a moment later that the dragon was laughing at him. Before he could react to that, the dragon sinuously stepped out of the water. He set Cash down on the concrete that ringed the pool, then inhaled deeply and lifted his head high. Fire plumed from his mouth, and Cash stepped back, hands upraised to shield his face. Steam and smoke billowed around them.

When Cash lowered his hands, the dragon’s head was right in front of him, studying him once more. The huge head nudged him gently, and Cash crossed his arms, glaring.

“oh,” a soft voice said, “are we flying? i just finished packing the car….”

The dragon stepped over Cash to rub his cheek against Pup, long neck curving around him so he could keep Cash in sight. Pup laughed, nearly knocked over by the display of affection.

Still glaring, Cash signed, “fucking dragon.” But that only earned a confused look from Pup, and more rumbling laughter from said dragon.

Glancing at Cash, Pup rested a hand on the dragon’s head, scratching the spot where his jawbone joined his skull. The dragon tilted his head, leaning into the touch and sighing . “i don’t mind flying,” Pup said hesitantly, “if that’s what you want.”

He looked to Cash, and he realized with a start that Pup was waiting for him to say which he’d prefer. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. The dragon was watching him too, something expectant in his piercing eyelight. Their regard made his soul feel strange and fluttery.

He bared his teeth and snapped his jaw, uncomfortable with the feeling. Not looking at either, he crossed his arms and marched to the garage, making it clear he had no intention of letting the dragon carry him anywhere.

Behind him, he heard Pup say, “um…i think you guys need clothes for the beach. right?”

-

Pup drove—carefully, and not a little nervously. Cash sat beside him in the front seat, doing his best not to press his face to the glass and stare at the world passing by.

The dragon, sitting in the backseat, leaned forward. “Maybe we should go inta town.” Pup’s eyelights flicked nervously to the mirror, and the dragon grinned. “Not taday—fer the Market. Think Cash might find it in’erestin’. Don’ think he’s ever seen humans in their native habitat b’fore.”

Absently, Cash shook his head. He’d seen them on ships, seen them gasp their last as he and his brethren dragged them down to the depths. But he’d never seen them on land—hadn’t ever really considered what they did with themselves when they weren’t trespassing or treading in waters not their own. His fingers curled, pricking at the thin silk wrap covering his thighs.

The dragon grinned. “Think ya might like it, darlin’. They’re in’erestin’. ‘S fun jus’ watchin’ ‘em sometimes. Gotta be careful ‘bout it, though—makes ‘em a little nervous.” Smoke curled from his nasal aperture as he chuckled, sitting back in his seat. “Nex’ time we go, we’ll take ya ‘long.”

Before Cash allowed himself to be too intrigued by the idea, he turned to glare. Firmly, he signed, “i won’t be here for that.”

The dragon held his gaze. “They have the market jus’ ‘bout every week in summer, sweetheart. Couple more weeks, an’ we’ll go.” When Cash kept glaring, he softened his voice and said, “Tolja, ‘m workin’ on getting’ yer voice back, but the little guy’s avoidin’ me, an’ I can’t make ‘im come if he don’ wanna come.” Then he smiled and shrugged. “’Sides—who says ya can’t come if ya ain’t livin’ with us? I c’n pick ya up at the rocks, an’ fly ya in. How’s tha’?”

His soul felt strange and fluttery again, so he turned away from the dragon and sat with his back pressed firmly into the seat. He ignored the way Pup glanced at him, eyelights bright. Pup cleared his throat, looking to the mirror again. “um. which way do i turn?”

The dragon leaned forward and pointed. “Left here, sweetheart. Hey—ya know this area used ta be pastureland?” Pup’s skull jerked at the statement, though Cash didn’t quite understand his surprise. The dragon grinned. “Yeah. They used ta keep cattle an’ sheep out here.” He pointed. “If ya trek through the woods fer a ways, you’ll come ‘cross a burnt-out little cottage. Rancher used ta live there.”

“what happened?”

The dragon rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly sheepish. “Well, uh. Couple ‘a dragons moved in. Started terrorizin’ the flocks.” He shrugged. “Spent more time in dragon shape back then,” he said. “Takes more energy. Need more food. An’ cattle….” He shrugged again. “Cattle’re easy.” He looked out the window, putting his clawed phalanges to the glass. “Forest really started takin’ over when I brought the little guy in, though. Oak trees poppin’ up left an’ right.” He chuckled. “Ya know, they had ta negotiate with ‘im ta build this road? Buncha surveyors an’ government-types, trekking through the woods ta meet with ‘im. Had a tea party with ‘em an’ everythin’. Funniest shit I ever saw.”

They drove in silence for a little ways, until Pup asked, “twist?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“who was the other dragon?”

“Hmm?”

“you said a couple of dragons moved in. who was the other dragon?”

Cash turned away from the window, looking back at Twist. His eyelight had shrunk to a pinprick, and his cracked socket was leaking magic. He wiped it away. “No one, darlin’. Slip ‘a the tongue. Dragons…dragon’s ‘re territorial. Only time we ever live in groups is when a dam’s got a clutch ta look after.” He cleared his throat. “Hatch-mates split when their horns start comin’ in. An’ if they’re lucky, they don’ ever see each other again.”

“if they’re lucky?”

Twist nodded. “Yeah. Otherwise, they’d try ta kill each other, steal their hoard.” He scratched at his cracked socket. “Ain’t very social, dragons.”

“oh. that sounds…lonely.”

The dragon laughed, soft and dry. “Nah.” He caught Cash’s eyelight. “Dragons’re like sirens that way. Don’t get lonely. Right, sweetheart?” Cash swallowed. Before he could reply, the dragon pointed to road. “We’re here. See that turn off? Tha’s the one ya want, darlin’. I’ll get out, unlock the gate.”

He jumped out before the vehicle came to a full stop—despite Pup’s protests—and opened the gate, letting it swing wide to admit them. Once they were through, he closed it behind them. Pup waited, but instead of getting back into the car, the dragon offered them a little salute and scrambled up and over a rock wall—and down the edge of a cliff, toward the ocean. Pup sighed. “at least edge isn’t here. he hates it when he does stuff like that.” He shook his head and followed the bumpy road down a much more gradual incline. The road dead-ended beside the mouth of a narrow river, where salt and fresh water began to mingle.

Cash stepped out of the car, soul thumping strangely. He inhaled deeply, sockets falling shut when the scent of salt water and seaweed reached him. He heard the ocean roll, heard the seagulls call high overhead. His soul ached. Home. He was home. He opened his mouth to sing, to greet the water and—

Nothing.

“cash? are you…?”

He walked past Pup, down to the river’s edge and began following it out to the sea. The hard packed earth turned quickly to sand underfoot. It was hot between his tarsals.

The dragon was already standing at the shoreline. He turned just as Cash broke into a run. Wet sand cooled his feet, then chill water pressed against his shins, his knees. He sucked in a breath when a wave broke against his thighs. Ocean water sprayed over his chest, his face. The air smelled of salt, and when the next wave struck, he dove into it. Water rushed over his skull, his fins—cold and clean and tasting of brine. Mana wrapped his bones, and with a lash of his powerful tail, legs kicking in tandem, he cut through the waves, barreling toward the deeper ocean.

This was what he was made for. Salt and sand and open water. He opened his mouth, trying to vocalize, but again, his song was silenced.

His soul ached.

Not too far from shore, the floor fell away, opening onto a deep crevasse that stretched out below him. He paused, treading water as he searched the depths. Seaweed waved, and he could sense the movement of fish and other prey swimming through the thick forest of kelp—like an itch at the back of his skull. But as he eased forward, his soul started to pound. They were too close to shore for any of the greater predators to venture close. He knew that. Still, the black water at the bottom of the chasm yawned before him, ready to swallow him whole.

He stilled. The memory of barbed tentacles darting out of the deep made his bones go tense and tight.

 A shadow crossed overhead, and he looked up, soul surging with relief when he saw the dragon’s silhouette against the sky. Anger followed quickly on its heels. Why should he be relieved to see the overgrown lizard? Why did he care?

And yet, with a last glance at the crevasse, he turned back to swim for shore. He snarled as he did, realizing his relief only grew as he got closer and closer to the beach. When he was close enough to stand upright in the surf, his soul finally settled, the rising dread slipping away. His claws curled into tight fists, fury vibrating through him. Had the dragon been in reach, he would have dragged him into the waves out of spite and frustration. But he was still sailing over the water like an overgrown kite, so Cash trudged through the shallows and sat in the sand. Close enough for the waves to wash over his tail and feet.

He sat and watched the water, wrestling with himself. How could he feel such relief at the kiss of salt and sand against his bones and such dread at the sight of darker, deeper water? This was his home.

Wasn’t it?

He heard the sand shift behind him. Pup approached cautiously, toeing the water. “is it nice to see the ocean again?”

He turned, sure for a moment that he was being mocked, but Pup was only looking at him with that easy, guileless smile of his. The fury drained from his bones, and he turned away, looking out to sea once more. His hands curled limply at his sides, burrowing into the wet sand. He squeezed his socket shut, trying to call up pleasant memories of the territory he patrolled—the kelp forest, the small ship resting on the seafloor, his gathered treasures—but he could only see those grasping tentacles rising to meet him.

The sand shifted again, and Pup gasped as he sat beside him. “oh! it’s—freezing.”

Despite himself, Cash snorted, his good socket opening once more. Still, his chest felt tight. Pup knocked their shoulders together. “you okay?” With his hands, he said, “you don’t seem happy.”

His fists tightened, clenching closed around a handful of sand. It ground between his bones, making his joints itch. Finally, he opened his hands and signed, “i don’t belong here now.” His signs were clipped and sharp, nearly violent.

Pup watched his hands for a moment, then to Cash’s surprise, he nodded. Looking out to the ocean, Pup lifted his knees, so he could rest his arms on them. “i get that,” he said.

Cash scoffed, and Pup looked to him. “really,” he insisted. “i didn’t…i didn’t have an ocean,” he said, “but i had…i had a family. a home. a job. it wasn’t much, but i had…i had a whole life before….” He swallowed, and pulled the leg of his swim trunks up, exposing his upper thigh. He traced his fingers over an uneven scar in the bone. After a moment, Cash realized it was a bite mark. When their eyelights met, Pup signed, “i wasn’t born a werewolf.” With a self-deprecating laugh, he added, “ ‘pup’ isn’t even my name.”

Cash’s mouth fell open a little. He’d known that, of course—or, some of it, at the least. But he’d never really given it much thought. After a few beats of silence, he asked, “you miss it?”

Pup shrugged. His hands stuttered, then—with a sigh—he confessed, “i miss some of my friends. i miss my brother. i miss looking at the moon and not counting down the days until it comes back. i miss having normal panic attacks.” He snorted.

“why don’t you go back?”

He shrugged again, resting his chin on his folded arms. “like you said—i don’t belong there anymore.” He smiled a little, and Cash followed his eyelights. Far in the distance, the dragon was soaring over the water in joyous twists and whirls. As they watched, a plume of fire burst from his mouth, and he shot into the sky, wings spread. “and i’m happy here. i’m happy with them. even if i could somehow wave a magic wand and make myself normal again, if i could go back without putting anyone at risk….” His smile softened. “i wouldn’t want to. not anymore. this is my home now.” He swallowed and added, “but maybe i’d send a letter or something. let everyone know i’m okay. that they don’t need to worry. that i’m finally happy.”

He lifted his gaze to meet Cash’s socket, and Cash’s soul started beating hard. He reached toward Pup, not entirely sure what he was reaching for. Pup seemed to know, though. He took his hand and squeezed it, still smiling gently. The bone seemed to prickle where they touched, the feeling unlike anything Cash had felt before. He eyed their clasped hands, not sure how to react. “is this okay?” Pup asked, and Cash jerked his head up to meet his eyelights again. He didn’t respond for a beat too long, the silence stretching between them.

Color rose to Pup’s cheekbones, and he looked away, loosening his grip. “sorry. i just assumed—”

With a sharp inhale, Cash grabbed his hand back, squeezing tight. He didn’t understand the warmth of Pup’s touch. Didn’t understand how his eyelights could be so soft, or his words so kind. But he was a siren—greedy, selfish, ruthless. He knew treasure when he saw it, and knew to hold tight, lest it be lost or stolen.

Pup answered with a gentle grin and began humming softly as the tide rolled out.

-

The demon and the vampire joined them shortly after sunset. They walked along the river—well, Edge walked. The sluttubus was using his wings to drift alongside, like an errant cloud. As his gaze fell on Cash and his proximity to Pup, a mote of red darkened his orange eyelights. Lifting his chin, Cash shifted even closer and took Pup’s hand in his.

The demon glared, but Edge just lifted his eyelights skyward before pulling him into a kiss. His feet drifted down, before settling firmly on solid ground. Edge pulled back just enough to stroke his thumb over his jawbone, capturing his full attention. “Help me with dinner?”

The demon grinned. “will i get another kiss?” he asked, already reaching for the pack Edge held out to him.

“We’ll see.” He released the pack, allowing the demon to take its full weight. He stumbled, nearly dropping it.

“cripes,” he groaned, now using both hands to carry the bag. “what’s in here? rocks?”

The vampire shrugged, using the edge of his shoe to draw a line in the sand. “Just our food. And a few bricks.” A subtle smirk played at the corner of his mouth. For just a moment, he caught Cash’s eyelight, and Cash found himself smirking too.

“a few—? why?!”

The vampire ignored him. “Twist!”

At the sound of his name, the dragon came bounding out of the waves, bones steaming. “Yer here!” He immediately grabbed the pack from the demon, slinging it onto his back even as he pulled the two into an embrace.

Cash felt himself bristle as the demon pressed himself into his dragon, going so far as to scent his cervical vertebrae. A low growl rumbled through Cash’s chest, drowned out by Edge’s indignant yell—“Twist! You’re wet—and naked!”

The demon chuckled, looping his arms over the dragon’s back. His hands drifted to his pelvis, briefly playing over his sacrum. “wet, huh?”

The low purr of his voice made Cash sit up straight, still growling softly. Pup looked at him, signing, “cash?” While Edge huffed and pushed the two apart, pointing to the road.

“The highway is right there. Absolutely anyone could see you right now! Keep your hands to yourself—and you put on some clothes! Stars on fire, you haven’t been walking around like that all day, have you?”

“’Course!” the dragon chirped, “Can’t wear clothes in dragon-shape, darlin’.”

“That’s not—” Edge exhaled slowly. “Never mind. Here. I need you to dig a hole—”

Pup tugged on his hand again, getting his attention. “is something wrong?”

Cash glanced at him but couldn’t stand having the demon out of his sight for too long. He shook his head, waving off the question, then turned back to watch the others. His dragon had partially transformed and was using his clawed hind legs to dig a deep furrow in the sand while Edge supervised. The demon—

Was staring at him. Cash stiffened, lifting his chin.

To his surprise, the demon smirked and reached into his pocket, pulling a cigarette from the box. “twist? do you mind?”

“Hmm? Oh! Sure, sweetheart.” The dragon leaned toward Rus, who leaned in as well. With more delicacy than Cash would have expected from him, the dragon touched his tongue to the tip of the cigarette. The end flared as the demon inhaled. Smoke trailed from both their nasal apertures, their jaws. They regarded each other, something unspoken passing between them.

Cash felt something coil deep in his soul. He swallowed, feeling flushed and unsure why. The demon tilted the dragon’s chin toward him. “thanks for the light.”

The dragon growled, pressing forward. The demon caught him with an expert hand, guiding him to his mouth. Orange and gold flared bright in the darkness, highlighting the dragon’s sharp jaw, the curve of their horns, the leashed desire in their touch.

Cash only realized he’d been holding his breath when the demon pulled back and caught his eyelight.

Rage immediately supplanted whatever feelings had been coiling in his soul. He stood, stripping off his silks as he marched toward the water. He didn’t miss the demon’s low chuckle as he left. Once he was deep enough to swim, he turned and saw the sluttubus had taken his place beside Pup. He’d even draped his arm over the werewolf and was kissing him, long and deep.

Cash ducked beneath the waves, swimming out to sea—though the water’s fresh darkness had him jumping at every little shadow. Regardless, he couldn’t sit and watch the demon’s display a moment longer.

-

“That was wholly unnecessary.”

Humming softly as he pulled away from Pup, Rus took another drag on his cigarette before looking to Edge. “i was just saying ‘hi’ to everyone.”

“You were marking your territory,” Edge snapped. He sighed and shook his head, looking out to the ocean. “He’ll be alright?” The question was clearly directed at Twist, but Rus answered in his stead.

“he’s a siren—he lives in the ocean!” Under his breath, he added, “i feel like i’m the only one who remembers that.”

“He doesn’t have his voice.” Rus’ skull jerked up at his tone, surprised to see that Edge was actually glaring at him. Edge exhaled slowly, one fist curling closed as he looked away again. “He’s lost one of his primary defenses. It’s dangerous out there. There are creatures that live in the deep—”

“yeah. like sirens.”

Glaring at him again, Edge said, “Creatures that eat sirens. Have you forgotten the state he was in when he arrived?”

Rus’ soul started to beat hard and fast. A subtle tremble ran through his bones. “no, but i’m apparently the only one who remembers he’s supposed to go back.”

Pup pulled away from him, standing. Twist looked at the ground, a soft whine building in his chest, but Pup was looking at Rus. He opened his mouth only to shut it again a moment later. Closing his sockets, he marshalled himself and signed, “when we first got here, he swam out. so far i couldn’t even see him anymore. i thought…i thought he’d decided to leave, even without his voice. but he came back. he spent the rest of the day here on the shore with me. looking at tidepools and exploring the rocks. we didn’t even leave the shallows when we went swimming—”

“you went swimming? with a siren?!” Rus whipped around to look at Twist. “and you let him?”

Twist just shrugged, still looking at the ground. “They were havin’ fun. Didn’ see the harm in it.”

Before Rus could reply, Pup snapped his fingers, signaling that he wasn’t finished speaking. “after he came back to the shore, he told me he doesn’t belong out there anymore. i don’t know what happened, but…i think the attack affected him more than he thought it did. more than we thought it did.”

Edge nodded as he signed. “It’s not uncommon,” he finally said. “I’ve seen it before.” He caught Rus’ eyelight. “Some wounds leave marks on the psyche, as well as the body.”

It was hard to hold Edge’s gaze as he said that. His throat felt tight, and his soul ached a little. Still, he took a drag on his cigarette and said, “too bad. he’s too dangerous to stay with us. we’re playing with fire as it is.”

Edge sighed, but it was Pup that said, “that’s not fair. he’s not any more dangerous than i am—or twist, or edge, or you. and he’s way less dangerous than the guardian.”

Standing, Rus snapped, “but we aren’t malicious! none of us go around killing people because it’s fun!”

“and you’re judging him based on what he is, not who he is! you haven’t even tried to get to know him!”

“why should i? he’s going back to the ocean! hell, if we’re lucky, he’ll go back tonight!”

Pup recoiled from him, and Rus noticed for the first time that he was shaking. His jawbone was starting to stretch into a muzzle, and long claws tipped his hands. He backed away from Rus, bones trembling as they started to lengthen.  Rus reached for him. “hey. pup. it’s okay—i didn’t mean….” But he had, and both of them knew it.

Twist slipped past Rus and folded Pup into his arms. “That hole deep ‘nough, darlin’?” he asked Edge.

“It’ll do.”

“Right. How ‘bout we take a walk, sweetheart?” he asked Pup, “Stretch our legs a bit?”

Pup was nodding, pressing himself into Twist’s embrace. They held each other for a moment longer, then Pup pulled away, taking Twist’s hand as they started to walk along the tideline. Rus watched them go, his throat tight. “i didn’t mean to upset them,” he said.

Edge sighed as he arranged the bricks at the bottom of the hole. “I know.”

“i just want to keep them safe!”

“I know.”

“he doesn’t belong up here!”

Edge sighed again. “Will you help me with this?” he asked, standing.

For the first time, Rus eyed the hole and the bricks. “what are you doing, anyway?”

“Building a fire pit. There’s wood in the back of the car.”

Silent—sullen—Rus followed Edge to the SUV, and they carried back a bundle of wood and a bucket of kindling. Neither spoke while Edge arranged the wood between the bricks, layering smaller sticks, pinecones, and crumpled balls of newspaper at the base. “You have a light?” Rus passed him his lighter, and Edge held the flame to one of the balls of paper. Edge crouched by the fire as the kindling caught. “You know, I tried to kill Twist the first time I met him.”

Rus’ head jerked. “what?” Edge had always been reluctant to speak about his early years with Twist, and almost never mentioned his life as a mortal.

Edge used a fire poker to prod the wood, inching it into a better position. “Mm-hmm. I tried a couple times, early on.”

“why?”

Edge inhaled deeply but never seemed to exhale. “Because I hated him. Hated him for what he was. Hated that he was so damn nice. Hated that he treated me like a person, and not a monster.” He swallowed. “Mostly, I hated him for keeping me alive, when all I wanted was to die.”

“…edge….”

“I thought I could wear him down, make him hate me as much as I hated him. But he was so patient, so kind….” A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. “He wore me down instead.” Edge looked up at him, holding his eyelights. “I know you don’t like Cash, and I know you don’t think he’s worth saving—”

“i didn’t say that!”

Edge raised a brow-bone, and Rus’ gaze slipped from his, fixing on the spreading flames. “My point is, if you treat someone like a monster, then you can’t blame them for acting like a monster. But sometimes, when treated with kindness and patience, so-called ‘monsters’ will surprise you.” Edge stood from his crouch. “I’m not asking you to agree to let him stay—I’m not even asking you to like him. I am asking you to give him the chance to surprise you while he’s with us. Do you think you can do that?”

Rus looked out at the ocean. Finally, he said, “…i can try.” Edge nodded, laying a metal grate overtop the bricks.

“Good. Now go apologize to Twist and Pup. Take your time—the fire needs to die back before I can put the meat on.”

Rus nodded but paused to ask, “what if he hurts them?”

Edge caught and held his gaze, the shadows cast by the fire throwing his features into sharp relief. “Then he’ll learn just how monstrous I really am.”

Rus’ shoulders relaxed and a soft sigh of relief escaped him. “okay, then. i’ll give him a chance.”

“That’s all I ask.”

[thee-radio-host-is-a-kookaburra]

i hope The Wife eventually feels safe enough to return some day :(

[itsladykit]

Aw! I love them! Man, your art is just amazing. Don't ask me to pick a favorite--I can't. But I adore Pup's expression, and I love Forest Pap and his leaves.

Here it is!!! My boys !!! I wanted to do something different instead of my usual character lineup of @itsladykit s Atypical boys that I do whenever I get back into fandom again lol

Easy to say my favorite is Pup, I think he just looks so happy!

[livinglycan]

☽ ~ The sand shifts beneath your paws and the scent of salt fills your nostrils ~ 𓃥

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ "𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍, 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍" ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Ello!! You can call me Theo, Ari, or Feng! I'm transmasc and my pronouns are He/It/That + any dog or (were)wolf related neos! I'm (feralromantic) aroallo, MLM/Gay, wolfdog freak, and objectum.

Feralromantic and wolfdog freak are both coins termed by me!

I am a werewolf. This is not a kintype, I am physically a werewolf. I’ll still post under the werewolfkin tags because I feel like werewolfkin can relate to my experience. I am a therian and otherkin but stuff relating to that can be found on my main blog, @confused-canid where I interact from. I appreciate the use of tone tags for me!

This blog is for me posting about me being a werewolf, or werewolf related things! This could be my selfships, art writings, etc.! My tags are: #Running with the wolves🐺 - Talking with my mutuals! #Howling at the moon🌕 - Original posts that are text! #Weird little claw marks✏️ - My art! This will usually be paired with text so it will be tagged as #Howling at the moon🌕 and as #Weird little claw marks✏️! #yapping back🌙 - Responding to asks! #Tasty posts🦴 - reblogs relating to this blog but not therian related or my own (usually used for posts I’m saving for later), #Rabies🥩 - Gore, animal death, angry stuff, and other things that make me hungry, #Home🌲 - Heart-home (Vancouver island) stuff, #Mother🏹🦌 - Artemis worship related things, #Little wolf🐾 - Agere posts (rbs and original ones

Theriotypes:

~Harlequin great Dane

~Bottlenose dolphin

~Western coyote (unsure what type but one that lives in or near Kansas, prairie dwelling)

~Leopard seal

~ Rocky mountain Bighorn sheep

Kintypes:

~Merfolk

~Two legged dragon

~Marble fox Kitsune

Others:

~Equidae clado hearted

~Changeling holothere

~ Lemon shork (Kaiju paradise)

~ Like slime pup (Kaiju paradise)

~ Nightcrawler (Kaiju paradise)

~ Chocolate sprinklekit (Kaiju paradise)

~ Lockheed SR-71 blackbird

DNI: Basic DNI criteria+, NSFW blog, make a lot of nsfw posts about werewolves, Radqueer, RCTA, Proship or any variants of it, Demonizes cluster B disorders or delusions/are an ableist, Zionist/pro Israel (Get tf off my blog. Seriously. Like, leave right now. I will maul you.), antikin, fakeclaimer, anti researched self diagnoses, pro Trump, pro Biden (Trump is bad and so is Joe. He is directly funding the genocide against Palestine.), anti ACAB, Pro contact for harmful paras (People w/ big 3 and other harmful (if acted on) paras can interact but don’t go against the rest of my DNI. I hope you can recover, I'm proud of you. You can do this.), anti atypical dysphoria, or are here to debate me about my identity.

Anyways, bye creatures!

Last updated July Fith 2024

I live in the central daylight timezone / CT, in case you want to talk

a lot of this was just to show off these dividers

^silly little werewolf gif collage ^^

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 8

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Kate cautiously stepped into Bucky's house, expecting a picturesque country residence. However, the reality was far from her imagination. The old-fashioned appearance of the house and the lack of modern amenities surprised her.

As she hesitantly explored, a sudden sensation tickled her feet, prompting her to let out a startled scream. To her surprise, it was Archie, Bucky's puppy, licking her shoes. Bucky, equally surprised by Kate's reaction, quickly intervened, "Hey buddy, are you hungry?"

The small, fluffy dog responded with an enthusiastic "Woof." Witnessing Bucky's affection for the little pup, Kate felt compelled to maintain her image as an animal lover, despite her true feelings.

Apologizing for the interruption, Kate approached Archie, attempting to pet him. However, the seemingly docile pup suddenly growled at her. "Grrrr..."

Bucky quickly reprimanded Archie, "Archie, stop it. I'm sorry, Kate. He must be hungry."

Kate, trying to downplay the situation, suggested, "No worries. Perhaps he's just scared because of my long nails. I'll cut them later."

Bucky, feeling guilty, replied, "No, you don't have to. It's not because of your nails." He didn't want Kate to go through the trouble of adjusting her appearance for Archie.

Bucky, observing Archie's unusual behavior, was taken aback. Archie had never growled at anyone before, not even at Alpine, the gentle horse.

It seemed like the little puppy sensed something different about Kate that made him uneasy. Bucky couldn't help but feel puzzled by Archie's atypical reaction.

Bucky, still taken aback by Kate's unexpected visit, gathered the courage to ask her how she found him. Kate, choosing to omit the fact that she interrogated everyone until Steve spilled the information, simply mentioned that she had been following Bucky's vlog and decided to join him.

Feeling a sense of embarrassment about the simplicity of his living conditions, Bucky hesitated, "I didn't expect anyone to find me here. This place is not exactly suitable for—"

Kate quickly interjected, trying to be humble, "Oh, don't worry, Bucky. It's a charming little farm. Luckily, there's a vacation home in the area, and my assistant has booked it for me."

Relieved, Bucky chuckled nervously, "Well, that's good to know. But farming is not as glamorous as it looks in the vlog. It's hard work."

Kate, undeterred, smiled confidently, "I'm up for the challenge. I want to experience it for myself."

Both surprised and impressed by Kate's determination, Bucky agreed, "Sure, you can join. Just be prepared—it's not as easy as it seems in the videos."

As Kate woke up the next day, she grumbled and instructed her assistant to prepare sunscreen promptly. The sun mustn't ruin her flawless skin.

She continued complaining about the food, exhibiting the opposite of the image her P.R. team had carefully crafted – that of a friendly and humble supermodel.

Kate hails from a wealthy family, and her spoiled nature becomes increasingly evident. Her assistant could only roll her eyes discreetly, well aware of the stark contrast between the public persona and the true character of the woman she served.

Kate's arrival at the farm couldn't have come at a less ideal moment – Bucky was deeply engrossed in the care of the cows, and the pungent smell filled the air. While Bucky had long grown accustomed to the farm's unique aromas, Kate found herself less appreciative.

Unaware of Kate's reservations, Bucky continued his farm duties, accompanied by Toby, who diligently recorded the day's activities.

During the live stream, Bucky dropped a startling fact, "Did you know a lot of people are killed by cows every year?" The unexpected revelation prompted a flurry of reactions and comments from the intrigued viewers.

As Kate approached, Bucky, ever the showman, pivoted to include her in the camera frame. The viewers were in for a treat – witnessing the supermodel stepping into the rustic world of Bucky's farm. The comment section erupted with excitement, questions, and exclamations, creating a lively interaction among the audience.

Amidst the commentary flood in the live chat, Bucky seized the opportunity to engage both Kate and the viewers. With a mischievous grin, he turned to Kate and said, "Looks like you've brought a whole new audience to the farm, Kate. What do you think about being a part of my little farming world?"

Kate, ever adaptable, replied with a good-natured smile, "Well, Bucky, it's definitely a change from the runway, but I'm up for the challenge. Who knew farming could be so intriguing?"

The viewers, fueled by excitement, bombarded the chat:

Viewer1: "Kate, what brought you to Bucky's farm? Spill the beans!"

Viewer2: "Bucky, you're living the dream – supermodel on the farm, that's wild!"

Bucky laughed, enjoying the banter, "Well, folks, Kate here wanted a taste of the 'farmer's life,' and here she is. Any questions for our glamorous guest?"

The questions poured in:

Viewer 3: "Kate, are you planning to start your own farm now?"

Kate chuckled, "I don't know about that, but let's see what Bucky has in store for me today."

As the trio gathered for lunch, the farm's usual serenity was interrupted by the sound of hooves approaching. Y/N appeared, her horse bringing her gracefully to the scene. Bucky, ever the courteous host, welcomed her with a warm smile, "Hey, Y/N! Perfect timing. Lunch is served."

Y/N, unimpressed by the attention, Y/N simply nodded, "My mother insisted. Hope you enjoy it."

Bucky introduced Kate, "Y/N, meet Kate. She's joining us on the farm today."

Kate extended a hand, masking her competitiveness with a friendly facade, "Hi, Y/N. Bucky's been showing me the ropes. Your farm is quite charming."

Y/N responded curtly, "Glad you think so. Enjoy your lunch," before returning her attention to Bucky.

Y/N couldn't help but suppress a laugh as she observed Kate's childish antics. There was a striking resemblance between Kate's behavior and someone Y/N knew well.

During the meal, Kate subtly tried to assert her connection with Bucky, linking arms and sharing laughs. Y/N, however, maintained an air of indifference, unswayed by the orchestrated display.

Meanwhile, Bucky focused on showcasing the meal prepared by Y/N. "Folks, today we've got Y/N's special: homemade chicken pot pie. It's become a fan favorite around here."

While eating, Bucky turns off the live streaming. Kate tried to help him by giving him ideas to make his livestream more viewers, "Here's what I was thinking," Kate began, "we could turn part of the farm into a runway for a fashion show. It would be a unique blend of agriculture and high fashion."

Bucky, trying to process the idea, raised an eyebrow, "A runway on a farm? Is that even practical?"

Y/N, not one to mince words, deadpanned, "That's the most amazing bullshit idea I've ever heard."

Toby, who happened to be taking a sip of his drink, burst into laughter, nearly choking on his beverage.

Bucky, caught between politeness and practicality, tried to salvage the situation, "Well, it's not that bad, Y/N."

Kate, however, felt a mix of embarrassment and a chill running down her spine. Y/N's sarcastic remark had a familiar ring reminiscent of the authoritative tone her father often used.

As Kate pondered Y/N's sarcastic comment and the striking familiarity of her father's authoritative tone, another puzzle piece fell into place when she recalled the food Y/N had prepared.

The taste was uncannily similar to the exquisite dishes Kate had experienced in 3-star Michelin restaurants.

It baffled Kate.

How could a farm girl, someone seemingly detached from the glamour of city life, possess culinary skills rivaling those of high-end chefs?

Author Note:

Hey friends,

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@pigeonmama

Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

If you've got any cool ideas or prompts, whether for this fluff series or any other series, feel free to share them with me!

Just drop them in my ASK/SEND REQUEST box.

Can't wait to hear your awesome suggestions! 🚀💬

[basilbots]

hi hello

pls give more info on the gay fish *blinks cutely*

Aaa the gay fish were Very attached from the start even if they didn't realize it. The pups taking an immediate liking to Solar helped but Eclipse quickly took over Solar's care taking seeing the state he was in. It was Eclipse's opportunity to have his own bond with another mer, not feeling left out like with Sun and Moon though he still cares for them, and Solar was similarly alone like him yet sweeter than Eclipse could ever see himself. Likewise Solar found it easier to connect to Eclipse than the others, and the extra attention was very… nice. Eclipse's affection is atypical and aggressive which Solar finds it endearing, and Solar waits not-so-patiently to show his own appreciation in turn.

These fish are very very oblivious though. Eclipse does not think twice about how attentive he is with Solar or reflect on how he's viewed him as a temporary babysitter to hopefully a permanent caretaker, podmate, and something,,, else? Meanwhile Solar tries zir best not to get his hopes up Eclipse is just doing his job taking care of them and showing them pity right? Sun and Moon are Very aware though lmao

[userautumn]

can you explain to me how ‚you‘re a vision in a cone‘ is a reference to puppy play? i don’t get it and i‘m not sure if it’s because english isn’t my first language or because it’s just a line of thought that i‘m not getting….

The fault is not yours. There is no connection to puppy play.

Pup Play does not typically involve use of preventative cones. In veterinary medicine, comes are used to protect areas around the head or neck that injured or otherwise unwell {dogs} should be careful not to irritate. Since they cannot speak, and thus cannot be told not to touch (and actually listen to that command), cones are used to keep them safe. But pup play is another form of a dom/sub dynamic, which is about power trading and sometimes humiliation. So pup play typically involves using leashes and collars, honorifics (master/pet, etc) and, depending on the preferences of the adults engaging in kink, sometimes masks and costuming, or tails. There is no correlation to preventative coning and, with respect to the fact that I'm not privy to every adult's bedroom preference, to use a cone would be atypical in this form of BDSM roleplay.

The term "You're a vision" is an outdated compliment that fell off in popularity around the mid 2000s. When a person calls someone else a vision, they're calling them "beautiful." Not hot, or sexy. Just beautiful. So when Tommy said Buck was "a vision in a cone," he was saying that he looked beautiful even in his dorky birthday hat (which is not something one would typically consider to be "beautiful.")

Hope that helps!

[dark-elf-writes]

Just hit me: is Nedzu watching via drones the shenanigans with popcorn?

Because like... he knows his favorite humans who agreed to work for him are going off to face a mysterious unknown with an atypical quirk. Who according to whatever data the rat could still find was definitely non-quirked before reappearing with eyes that shine like liquid gold, too many new skills within the timeframe, and that arm.

Not to mention Desmond might be a match to an "live-in researcher" in Abstergo's partially decrypted files but that "position" isn't linked to anything under payroll. Those files hint at something far too human regarding their research. Far too dangerous. Something pulled from the darkest nightmares.

Keep trying, Aizawa-kun. While it is important that a fellow test subject feels comfortable, whatever "Animus Subject 17" is looking for is very concerning indeed if it leads to such a fervorous search on the other side of the globe.

Nedzu makes it his business whenever an organization starts to call someone by a subject number.

It’s frighteningly common, truthfully, and while some never take that next step that leads to people like himself and Aizawa-kun’s runaway “Desmond” there are enough examples that he has long since found it best to keep an eye out.

Desmond himself is a particularly interesting case because before Abstergo grabbed him the only proof that he existed was a motorcycle license under an alias with his fingerprints. No birth certificate, no medical records, no social security number, not even a quirk registry. He was for all intents and purposes a ghost pre Abstergo.

(There is plenty of information post Abstergo even with the terrorist allegations dropped.)

So really he isn’t surprised the first time he slips through Aizawa’s fingers with a laugh and perfectly executed dive off of the side of a building. Nor is he surprised the second time. Nor the third.

He is also not surprised that this game of cat and mouse is driving poor Aizawa-kun up the wall.

Still it is nice that he has someone that can keep up with him. Anyone less talented would leave his personal student bored and that simply could not be allowed for a future mate of his pup.

[sage-thee-herbmaster]

I love (NOT) how the coiner of Arissomei specifically asked not to make “arissoharmful” terms because Arissomei is meant for RECOVERING radqueers and people who identify with the more harmless transids though don’t want to be associated with PRATs and would glorify said harmful thing. Only for a Pro-transid PRAT to go ahead and do it anyway because they “wanted a term for their experience” when these cunts already have their “transharmful” bullshit and just wanted an accuse to disrespect a prominent Anti-radqueer AGAIN. Fuck radqueers

context under the cut, also cropping out the user name because I don’t want this user getting anymore attention they already got :/

“Disrespecting people I don’t like’s boundaries, being supporting PRATs, being antisemitic while hiding behind the excuse of helping those who have “unpalatable” atypical dysphoria and “the coiner is trying manipulate me with their trauma response :(“ bullshit, wow I’m so based!!11!!” /sar

I understand not liking being told to KYS, that’s awful and rather immature, no one should be telling people KYS. You have transids, you’re just coining Arissomei terms specifically to antagonise the coiner so stop being a prick and leave pup alone Gee whiz

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

An amusing thing happened on the way to Okoboji

AT A SMALL-TIME CAFE IN SPENCER, IOWA: Just your basic diner in what could be called the Gateway to Okoboji, especially coming from the southern parts via US 71, even if Huckleberry and I drove westerly from Clear Lake on US 18 after the 4th of July Convocation and some dive time with Peter Potamus on Clear Lake.

Our purpose while on Lake Okoboji: Joining the Three Wolves and the Divin' Wolf Pups in some worthwhile diving in what must probably be one of Iowa's treasures, perhaps its largest natural lake even!

But so to lunch: Just your atypically Iowan breaded pork cutlet sandwich, some French fries and soda ... and in a booth nearby--no less than Super Snooper and Blabbermouse, taking some time out of their established detective game to get some much-deserved rest. Witness the black tank tops both chose to wear in lieu of the detective trenchcoat.

"Uh, say, Snooper," Huckleberry Hound remarked, "I find it rather interesting that you've decided to take some time off from the detective biz."

To which Super Snooper remarked rather off-handedly, "At least our going casuals for some part of an interval likely makes sense. Cause when things get to brass tacks, and all that, the medico is likely to be putting us on a vacation."

"Snoop's probably right," Blabbermouse chimed in. "After all, I hear where Okoboji is remarkably blue and pristine!"

"Pretty much like yours truly," Huckleberry Hound chimed in with some pride. "Though what Mildew Wolf said once about imagining someone dumping a large bottle of bluing may have been a bit on the comedically ironic side."

Super Snooper again: "Which, having watched that particular Underwater America with Peter Potamus episode several times, must have been enough to find a little fascination with how a resort as would typically be associates with northern Minnesota or Wisconsin could actually be in the likes of Iowa, of all the places all over...."

"Ourselves," saith I, "we're meeting up with a trio of dive-happy wolves; I assume you know about them."

"Geez, Snagglepuss!" chimed in Blabbermouse, "No less than Hokey Wolf and Loopy De Loop and Mildew Wolf as well!"

"Yogi may be smarter than the average bear," Super Snooper remarked, "but Blabbermouse can be probably the smartest of detective sidekicks!"

"Amusing analog," quipped I. "And doesn't breaded pork cutlet seem so quaintly--Iowan?" The waitress who served our booth couldn't have agreed more, noting where one particular stand at the annual Clay County Fair, which Spencer hosts every fall after Labour Day--once described as perhaps the most typically American county fair--sells breaded pork cutlets about two-thirds the size of a typical dinner plate!

"And I assume you're heading to 'Boji," the waitress remarked as we paid our way, which was duly noted. Even if the waitress had to explain that to Iowans, "'Boji" was a rather casual term for the Lake Okoboji area.

Super Snooper and Blabbermouse concurred on the remark about heading to 'Boji.

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[itsladykit]

I was looking through my sketches and got a fun headcanon: in Atypical Rus has a big possessive streak(not as large as Twists obvs lol) but one that has to do with pheromones. He rubs his face and hands on the other (tolerant) hoard members a lot to spread them around, probably often nuzzles into their necks when they're turned away from them.

And even though Pup doesnt have the same phero-sense Rus does, he can probably smell somethings up with Rus when he does this bc of his own superior senses

Oh, I genuinely really love this. Bonus if it wards off other sex demons. They're his, damnit. No touching!

Debating whether I like this idea better if he doesn't even know that's what he's doing. He just knows it's vital that he nuzzle into Twist after he gets back from one of his journeys, and it is absolutely necessary that he wind himself around Edge at least once per day.

Pup's the one that figures out that he's marking them. And, weirdly, it makes him feel better--he's not the only one with weird instincts he doesn't fully understand.

[owl127]

I never said I wasn't yours is a fave of mine. Would you care to write something from this universe, maybe another parents teachers meeting with Clexa as a couple now. Anything would be much appreciated. Thank you.

Original story here

(Ao3)

As morning light broke the grayness of dawn, dew graced the front lawn, and birds chirped the night away. The cat and the dog napped peacefully on the kitchen rug, a pile of fur and soft snoring. Before alarms disturbed the new day, barely a sound could be heard in the house.

But not for lack of trying. 

Lexa bit hard on her palm, muffling her moans as Clarke worked diligently between her legs. One hand was tangled in blonde tresses, tugging and pulling, warning her that it was a weekday morning, but nothing deviated Clarke from her goal.

"Clarke," Lexa begged, unashamed, because waking up to her wife going down on her was great, yes, but in less than an hour she would have to drive four kids to three different schools. Clarke met her eyes with her nose buried in Lexa and lifted her head slightly to say,

"Focus on me, my love. It's just us. "We have a little time." Clarke's chin glistened with arousal, and Lexa bit her tongue.; she nodded. She kept a palm over her mouth as her head fell back on the pillow, and Clarke made good on her promise. Lexa came with shudders and a whine, and Clarke kissed the trailing end of it.

"I just need a minute," Clarke grunted, and Lexa spread her legs farther, inviting, aware of the time but even more aware of her mate. "Fuck, you feel so good," Clarke moaned as Lexa welcomed her, all warmth and want, and left over after glow. "I love you," she whispered into dark hair, and Lexa met her hips in rushed bliss.

Lexa heard the knocking first, her hips stuttering in their search for momentum. Clarke didn't stop, though, as close as she was, rutting mindlessly into her wife.

"Wait." Lexa’s finger grasped at a bulging bicep. "I think I heard something."

"It's just the cat," Clarke panted, her hips always moving. "Babe, please, I'm—"

There was no mistaking the soft knock now, followed by the tiniest voice. "Mommy?"

Lumi. Their youngest. 

"Shit," Clarke cursed louder than she wanted, and Lexa widened her eyes at her. "Shit, shit." Clarke pulled out, hard and frustrated, and made her way into the bathroom.

"Don't be so dramatic," Lexa whisper-laughed, covering her nudity with Clarke's robe.

"Says the one who's got to come!" Clarke huffed from the bathroom and closed the door.

Lexa opened the bedroom door to a fidgeting five-year-old, her stuffed rabbit being dragged by the ear at her side. 

"Good morning, darling." Lexa picked her up, noticing the frown and pout. "Is everything alright?"

Lumi shook her head and latched her small arms around Lexa's neck. "What happened, baby?" Lexa coaxed her daughter with a peck on the cheek.

"There's something wrong with Serah," Lumi whispered, then pulled back to hug her always-present bunny. "Samson thinks she's sick."

Lexa nodded, making her way down the hallway to the stairs. The twins and Lumi had their bedrooms upstairs, but their just-turned-15-year-old teenager had her own room downstairs. Lumi adored her sister though, and constantly escaped to spend part of the night in the den with Serah. 

There was an edge to Lumi, a concern half-formed, as if the youngling did not comprehend the concept of real worry. Lexa bristled. "Why don't you get changed for school, honey? I'll go check on Serah. We already picked your clothes last night, remember?"

Lumi lit up at that, since changing clothes was one of her favorite pastimes. Lexa only wished she would stop doing it in public. "I'll call you for breakfast."

Samson's head bounced on the carpet as the pup ran back to her room. Lexa tightened the robe's knot around her waist and made her way downstairs. Nuggets and Quiet were at the window, fixated on a neighbor leaving for work, and Lexa opened the door to the den. The bed was unmade, which was not atypical. The bathroom’s door was locked, and she heard faint whining.

"Serah? Are you okay? Open the door," she ordered in her mother tone, knocking twice. "Serah."

"Go away."

Well, at least she was alive.

"Serah, open the door."

"I said go away!" The plea was followed by a low growl, and Lexa bristled at the sound. She gritted her teeth, her jaw aching. Her nose itched with something new, something heavy, and she blinked it away.

"Serah, honey, what’s going on? Please open the door."

"Can you call mom?" The growling from the voice was gone, and all that was left was a pitiful wine. Her daughter was in pain, and Lexa rattled on the doorknob, as useless as it would be.

"Are you alright? Serah, please open up."

"Just call mom!" the teen yelled, and Lexa felt a shiver go down her spine. Heavy steps echoed behind Lexa, and she watched Clarke, her hair dripping from her quick shower, climb down the stairs holding a shirtless Lumi.

"She claims her shirt escaped," Clarke said with a grin, but it morphed into a frown when Lexa looked at her. "What’s going on? Lumi said Serah is sick."

"Samson said it," the young omega corrected, and Lexa picked her up.

"She locked herself in the bathroom," Lexa explained in a whisper, adjusting her daughter on her hips. "She’s asking for you."

Clarke’s eyebrows came together in worry, and she stepped up to the bathroom door. Her button-up was outside her jeans, and she was only wearing socks. Lexa made peace with the fact that everyone would be late that morning, and that was just the way mornings went sometimes.

Clarke knocked on the door a couple times, louder than Lexa did. "Honey, it’s me," she called, exchanging a glance with Lexa. "What’s going on?"

"Is mom still there?" Her voice was small and scared, and Lumi tightened her grasp on Lexa’s neck. "I only want to talk to you," Serah said, a small voice beyond the wood. Lexa shook her head, and Clarke shrugged.

"Start with breakfast and get the kids ready. I’ll deal with this."

Lexa wanted to protest. She was always overprotective of the kids, and Serah would always have a special place in her heart. Serah was her first; it had been only the two of them for five long years.

"Please." Clarke touched Lexa’s shoulder, her palm warm and steady. "She’ll be okay."

Lexa’s jaw ached, but she nodded.

Clarke waited until Lexa had left the basement before knocking on the door again. "It’s just me."

It took a minute, but the door unlocked with a soft click. Clarke took one deep breath and understood, hiding her grimace with a cough.

"Oh, honey. It’s okay." She opened her arms, and slowly, weary, Serah accepted the hug.

The teenager had on a black t-shirt picturing whatever band was hot on the radio. The cloth was damp with sweat, and the collar tugged and pulled enough to sit loosely at her sweaty neck. She had a towel around her waist, one hand holding it tight.

Clarke checked her red eyes, took note of her heated forehead, and helped her to bed.

"When did it start?" Clarke asked, holding one hand next to Serah but giving her the option to touch it or not.

"Sometime last night." Serah’s voice was rough, all gravel and tiredness. "It just…" She hugged her own belly, sniffling. Clarke tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away. "It hurts."

"I know." Clarke cleared her throat. "I’m going to get supplies and make some phone calls. Why don’t you take a shower and dress up in something light? No tight underwear."

Serah nodded, defeated, in pain, and ashamed. Maybe a little angry.

Yep, all the signs were there.

Clarke made her way back upstairs to find Lexa filling up bowls of cereal. She left the twins to their breakfast and approached Clarke, still in her robe. "What’s going on?"

"She’s alright." Clarke kissed her cheek. "I’ll take the day off to stay with her. Can you pick everyone up today?"

"Clarke, what’s going on?" Lexa’s cheeks were rosy with either anger or fear, and Clarke looked at the twins—who were focused on their sugary meal—and Lumi, who was making her own mess with a banana. She lowered her voice and said the only thing Lexa did not want to hear. "Serah is having her first rut. The first time it’s just pain and being uncomfortable. It will take her another year or so to mature her knot."

Lexa swallowed dryly, nodding, numb.

Her baby was rutting.

"I’ll pick up the twins and Lumi. Can you call Serah’s high school?" Lexa said, hoping turning on the 'mom mode' would help her focus.

Clarke nodded, her eyes calm and understanding, and Lexa hated her a little bit because of that.

"I know this is not easy for you—"

"It’s worse for her," Lexa said harshly, making her way to the stairs. "She’s at age. It’s normal. It’s normal, right?"

Clarke nodded, following her wife.

"She’s growing up. And she needs you now," Lexa said.

"Lexa…"

"You’re an alpha, she’s an alpha; you deal with this."

Clarke watched her trot up the stairs. She knew that had been a fear in Lexa’s life when it had been just her and Serah; how would Lexa deal with a rutting alpha teenager? Lexa had an entire plan by the time Serah was three, with Abby and Raven as emergency contacts. Everything changed when they reconnected, but that fear, that feeling of not being enough, was still present in Lexa’s heart.

And the plain rejection earlier did not help. 

"Lexa?" Clarke called, and Lexa’s shoulders rose as she stopped at the top of the stairs. "She loves you. That never changed."

Lexa’s shoulder lowered, but she didn’t stop, walking straight to their bedroom.

Clarke sighed and palmed her pants in search of her phone. It was going to be a long day.

00000

Lexa had a horrible day.

She couldn’t concentrate at work and didn’t add a single development to any of her cases. She constantly checked her phone for Clarke’s updates, but in the end, that was what really bothered Lexa: there was nothing she could do.

Her baby was growing up and didn’t need her anymore.

At least she had another three that would need her for a little longer, she thought, as she parked the car blasting Paw Patrol’s songs.

"Okay, one more time," Lexa said, eyeing the twins and Lumi through the mirror. "What are the rules?"

"We leave Serah alone," the three repeated in bored monotone. 

"Okay, good. Now let’s get inside because your mom made dinner."

The twins look at each other and gag.

"It’s pasta!" Lexa completed, and she watched her boys shrug and run inside. She took her time freeing Lumi from her car seat and followed her children inside.

The house was eerily quiet. 

"In here," Clarke called from the kitchen. "Dinner is almost ready." The twins and Lumi had disappeared upstairs. Lexa pecked Clarke’s lips, noticing her sports bra and shorts. "She’s napping. We went for a run. A long run."

Lexa nodded. "Is she… Is she okay? Is she in pain?"

"I asked the boys not to laugh at the ice pack on her crotch and warned them their time would come."

Lexa tasted the boiling red sauce and added herbs from their spice cabinet. "Is she not going to join us for dinner?"

"Probably not. She ate some already." Clarke placed her chin over Lexa’s shoulder, stretching a little to do so. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Busy day."

Clarke hummed, unconvinced. "Let her come to you."

"If she ever does that." Lexa tasted the sauce and added a pinch of salt. She turned to kiss Clarke’s cheek. "Call the kids. It’s ready."

"Don’t take the glory for my dinner."

"It’s canned tomato sauce and pasta, Clarke."

"Which I boiled perfectly to al dente." Laughing, Clarke left to gather their family for dinner. Most of their family, at least.

Serah didn’t leave her room until late in the night. The shower upstairs was running for Clarke. The twins were wrapping up their homework, and Lumi had been asleep for an hour. Lexa scrubbed pasta that had dried in the bottom of the pan, so focused on scrapping the offensive carbs that she didn’t hear the den’s door opening and closing. 

"Mom?"

Lexa stopped her endless scrubbing, turning to see Serah by the door. She hug one arm over herself, curls that were the identical copy of Lexa’s damp from a recent shower. 

"Hi, love." Lexa dropped the sponge and wiped her hands, her heart full and hurting at the dark circles under Serah’s eyes. She made to hug her daughter, but Serah flinched. Lexa tried to hide the hurt, but Serah’s eyes widened in guilt.

"You smell different," Serah explained. "I wasn’t expecting it."

Lexa breathed easier in relief. "A few things will change about how you scent alphas and omegas. It can be a little jarring at first."

"Mom told me." Serah sat at the kitchen island. "I’m not sure I like it." She wrinkled her nose, tired green searching Lexa and then moving away. "Can I feel it again?" Lexa sat next to her and held her hand. Serah approached carefully, her nose sniffling quietly next to Lexa’s neck. "Is that mom’s claim on you?" 

Blushing, Lexa nodded. "Yes. You will be able to tell mated pairs most of the time."

"It’s…" Serah got even closer, her nose brushing Lexa’s skin. Lexa couldn’t resist and kissed the top of her messy curls. "It’s fresh."

Lexa cleared her throat. "Well, I do share a bed with your mother." She felt the heat in her cheeks and watched as Serah pulled back, grimacing.

"Oh my god, am I going to be able to notice when you two—" She fake gagged, and Lexa smirked.

"Not really, and not all the time. But your instincts are wired to notice another alpha’s claim."

Serah closed her eyes and leaned down on the cold marble of the island, her forehead hitting the stone with a soft thud. "This is weird."

"Welcome to adulthood."

Serah turned and looked up at her mom. "I’m sorry about this morning." Her high cheeks were flushed pink. "It was really hurting."

Lexa ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair. She had a fuzzy undercut at her nape that was always soft to the touch. "It’s okay. I was worried about you."

"I’ll do better next time." She straightened up and threw herself into a hug. Lexa accepted it, inhaling the maturing alpha scent from her daughter’s neck. "Do you want to watch a movie downstairs?" 

Lexa hugged her closer. More than a decade ago, they would sometimes fall asleep watching something on their bed. When it used to be just the two of them. "Of course."

As Lexa watched some old animation movie with her daughter asleep on her chest, she realized that some changes are for the better. She wasn’t a single mom fighting to be enough for a rebellious teenager; she had a mate and a wife to help her with that. And no matter the changes Serah would go through, she would always be her little girl. Even if she was taller than Lexa already.

[itsladykit]

He looks so amazing!! Ah, love the expression. You're really good at creating a sense of motion in these scenes, snd I love that do much. Beautiful, beautiful work.

This is the next in my series of Scawy Atypical Guys from @itsladykit s series! We! Stan! The! Angry! Werewolf!!!

We also stan @freshiegayboi for being awesome

[stormbreaker101]

Wiztober Day 19: For Better or Worse - What should have been a simple recon mission and fetch quest quickly spiraled out of control, for better and worse.

This fic was made in collaboration with @klaraflamez! It takes place in her Wizard101 postcanon/rewrite, the Cleaved AU. Things aren't quite as they seem in this Spiral...

Content warnings: multiple instances of swear words (so it's not PG-13), and both canon-typical and canon-atypical violence.

If you want to read the fic with font variation for flavor (and maybe a secret or two in between the lines :3), here's the fic in its original format.

Word Count: 7866

It was supposed to be a pretty simple quest. Sneak into a heavily secured Schismist fort in the middle of the day, take the blueprints for an incredibly dangerous machine they’ve got, and hightail it out of there. No harm, no foul, no need to use that license to kill they gave him.

Unfortunately for Flare Rouge and Jane Doe, the young Wizard that (for better and worse) the Arcanum assigned to him to watch over, the fort was in a world that nobody had a key for. The elusive and fascinating Novus, a world said to only be about 25 years old, a world that didn’t exist in Flare’s original spiral! What a joy would that be to see! 

Alas, getting there was another story.

And it still is another story. Sorry Flare, I know you and Jane probably have a ton of good memories you want written out, spending so long adventuring. But there’s a lot to get through.

Moo Bu was fantastic company on the long trip from the Jade Palace to Catmandu, over which hung one of Novus’s shards. He had a thousand stories to pass the time, open ears for Jane and Flare to share their stories with as well, and many a wisdom to dispense. Moo dispensed his final wisdom as their journey split (him up the scarlet Stone of Heaven, and them to Conatus, where the fort stood): “Be careful dealing with the people in charge there. The governors are egoists first, leaders a distant second. And your… Arcanum also sound like bigshots. Do not let them use you.”

Flare nodded slowly. “Thanks, but we’ve got this.” He didn’t like the implication that Moo was hinting at, but there wasn’t time to argue. Jane was already rushing to the pale blue leyline gate. “JANE! WAIT UP!”

“WE DON’T HAVE TIME TO WAIT!” Jane shouted back. Then to Moo Bu she hollered, “BYE! THANKS FOR EVERYTHING!” before disappearing through the gate.

Flare rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a laugh. Ms Whisperwind had warned Flare that Jane was flighty as a pup and needed overseeing. Jane’s impulse and determination were why Flare enjoyed questing with her. Sure, she was his responsibility and 10 years his junior, but she was also a friend. They both ran at a million miles an hour and often ran together, an unstoppable duo of Sorcerers! He hurried after her, zipping through the leyline gate.

~

Conatus sprawled out in front of Flare and Jane, a sight unlike anything the two had seen before. Stone cliffs wide, smoothed, curved, and jutting out like way too many fingers on a pair of palms. Soft white loamy sands down below. A massive indigo waterfall from what almost looked like an eye, tumbling into a massive waving lake. Many tents, gardens, markets, and camps for the other five nations that Novus’s shards hung over. Karamelle, Marleybone, Polaris, Monquista, and Valencia. 

Notably, there was no Schismist fort to be seen, but that only made sense. Why would a secretive cult have a major base of operations where everyone could see? It’s a good thing the Arcanum provided Flare and Jane with some particularly convenient maps: of Conatus, and of the base’s interiors, including the location of the Schismists’ lab, where the dastardly plans lay.

Jane opened the map of Conatus up, and Flare peeked over her shoulder. “There’s no way we can go through the main entrance,” she said, pointing at the entrance marked on the map. “Even with the Arcanum promising to keep the Schismists’ attention, we’d be spotted super easy by whoever stayed behind. Is there some side entrance we can go through?”

“Yep, they’ve got that animal sanctuary,” Flare said. He took out the other map and laid it out on the floor. “Thing is, that’s pretty darn far away from the lab. We might get caught the longer we stay and move around.”

“C’mon, we can do it! I’ve got experience sneaking about back when I was a pirate. And you can… well…” Jane’s train of thought trailed off. Flare was not stealthy in the slightest.

“I could polymorph into a ninja pig-” Flare spitballed.

Jane snort-laughed at the idea. “YES.”

Flare laughed as we,,. “Pogchamp! That’s our plan!”

“More like pigchamp?”

“YES!” Flare cheered. He gathered the map and hopped up to his feet. “I’ve trained ya well in the art of the pun. Now, let’s get going.”

~

The two of them made their way down to the sanctuary entrance, tucked between some cliff walls that at a distance looked like one surface. Flare put his hand against the door and made a portal to the other side. Portals were one of the magics that he had carried from his home, outside every Spiral, and thus were a tad shakier to use here. (This Spiral seems to resist every magic that isn’t its own.) 

Even riskier still to try and make a portal to a place he had never set foot into. The furthest Flare could trust his portals into unknown territory was a few feet. In other words, safely past this wall but not more.

Jane put on her mask and helmet. The portal opened. Flare polymorphed. The two hopped through. The portal closed behind them.

For better and worse, they’re in.

Jane scurried to the shadowed edges of the sanctuary, and Flare hustled up a tree with newfound ninja agility. A peculiar mustache-bird of some kind flew up to Flare. Flare fought back the mounting panic of him being discovered already. It’s just a harmless bird. Not an enemy. He held out a hoof to gently pat the bird. There’s a good birdie. Calm. Friend, he thought at it. He also decided to spare a moment to magically *Check what the bird was, get some more information.

A 2D textbox appeared in front of Flare, with a splash of flavortext explaining the little creature. [Follicle Falcon (Star-Balance, rank 21 Elite): Native to the Stone of Heaven. Well known as therapy pets for their Empathic Abilities.]

So thinking at ya was the right call, Flare realized. There’s a good bird. Kinda wish I could adopt one of y’all from these guys… You deserve better than being raised by cultists, y’know?

In the meantime, Jane had made her way across the sanctuary to the door without any of the other creatures spotting her. Got the door open! Lockpicks :> she Whispered to Flare.

Perfect. Flare crept through the tree cover and climbed on the sanctuary walls, making his way over. I’ll go in first in case anybody’s right inside. Maybe they’ll miss me slipping into the rafters or something.

Jane gave a thumbs up.

Flare nudged the door open and swung inside. The room was thankfully empty, and also a bedroom? Furnished and decorated, with Life motifs everywhere. A fuzzy moss-looking carpet, a soft bed nested in bookshelves, walls lined with various supplies that Flare couldn’t investigate too closely, and a closed wardrobe. Not what he was expecting, but then again… what had he been expecting in the first place? He hadn’t really come into this plan with… any preconceived notions on what a violent apocalyptic cult’s base would look like. He wasn’t one for judging someone based off how others portrayed them, a trait that had caused him to butt heads with this Spiral’s Arcanum many times. Always considering the other perspective, never taking something as face value, save for the Arcanum itself. Because he knew the Arcanum from his own Spiral. But all this debate he got into for his differing views was all in good faith, right? A compromise could be reached eventually. Besides, if they were truly evil, he’d be able to see it for himself.

Maybe the Schismist’s base would show its true colors outside of what was obviously a personal bedroom.

Room’s empty. We’re clear, Flare Whispered to Jane.

Jane stepped in and paid little heed to the room’s decor, heading straight to the other door. She tested the doorknob- it was already unlocked. Hey, weird question, does this feel too… easy for you? she asked.

Not yet, Flare admitted. We’re only two rooms in. It’ll probably ramp up the further we go in. Leah’s not the kind of person to just throw us in the deep end immediately, he reasoned to himself. The story needs time to build, right?

Right.

Jane nodded and opened the door to the halls. She slipped behind a potted plant by the door and Flare climbed up into the rafters above the hanging lights. The floors were lined with neat runner-rugs, a very pleasing blue and purple palette that reminded Flare of his favorite sweater, and distinctly not the dark malachite green and gold normally associated with the Schismists.

The Arcanum had warned that the Schismists were fickle foes. Changing their name and their faces, but carrying the same dangerous ideologies across the ages. They’ve supposedly done it before, posing as the otherwise noble-intentioned Chronomancers in maroon and white in Mirage maintaining the Sands of Time, or the Dark Cloud Agents in grey and purple and silver harassing the Nimbari of Empyrea. Of course they’d do it again, especially after the Wizard had lain waste to those Schismist offshoots 25-odd years ago. This particular chapter of the Schismists, at the heart of Novus, called themselves the Astral Alliance.

Flare and Jane snuck their way through the fort. It was suspiciously quiet. The two of the only caught sight of some folks hanging out in what looked like a library similar to the Arcanum’s Repository, and a lemur-person checking on the sleeping Rainbow Eucalyptus tree planted down the way.

A door opened right underneath Flare! An impossibly tall moose-person stepped through the doorway, speaking to someone inside the room he had just come from: “All we can do is hope, Chancellor.”

Flare held his breath. Leah, don’t leave me hanging. Please. 

The moose’s ear twitched. He hesitated for a moment, hand to his muzzle, then straightened up with a snap of his fingers. “Er, actually, I remembered one last thing on my mind,” he said. “If I may.”

“Oh?” responded this Chancellor figure from inside. “What is it now, Manti?”

“That newest recruit-” Manti closed the door, muting the conversation too quiet for Flare to hear.

THAT WAS WAY TOO CLOSE, Jane screamed in the Whisper.

Flare nodded. We got real lucky. Anyway, next door over is the lab. Jane’s earlier comment about this quest being too easy rang in his mind again. That was so close to leading to a disaster! Had this Manti fellow heard him? Did he think it was just the wind? Did he- god forbid- know? Leah, please. Prove my worst panicking wrong. Save us. Help.

No, no there’s no way Manti knew. If he knew Flare was sneaking around, surely he would’ve sounded an alarm of some kind! Or made ANY sort of move, an attack or a word of acknowledgement like ‘I know you’re there. You came far but now you’re found out. You made a mistake coming here’ or some other archetypical monologue! He wouldn’t just know and say nothing about it.

Of course. Right. Yeah, we’re in the clear. Thanks.

Flare was overthinking.

Oh, come on, you didn’t have to say that.

Jane came out of her hiding spot and tried to pick the lab door open. However, none of her picks seemed to work. “Stupid- dammit- C’mon- Why are you harder- than the fucking outside door- you bastard-” she cursed under her breath, getting more agitated with each repeat attempt. This lock must’ve been enchanted, or just more heavy duty. Flare I think we might just need a portal past this son of a bitch.

Flare dropped down from the rafters and unpolymorphed. One portal past this son of a bitch coming right up, he Whispered back, echoing the vulgarities back because sometimes you just have to call a door a son of a bitch. Hand to the door, he tried to project a portal just barely past the door. No more than… six inches in. That’d still be well in the doorway and thus well without the odds of portaling into some furniture.

The two stepped in, expecting to be the only ones inside.

Instead, there was a hippocampus girl inside, wearing a true Schismist uniform of green and gold, and holding a batch of blueprints in her arms. “Arcanum,” she hissed upon seeing the two.

Flare closed the portal. 

“Hey bastard!” Jane jeered. “You’ve got something that we can’t letcha have!”

“These plans don’t belong to you.” The stranger backed up towards the open window on the back wall.

“We have to take them, for the sake of the Spiral!” Flare countered, stepping forward. If she dared to fly out that window, he could chase after her.

“You know nothing about the matters you’re meddling with,” the woman spat, “nor any understanding about what the Spiral needs!”

Flare dismissed the stranger’s words, and *Checked her. Mercy was rarely an option in the Spiral, and it was painfully obvious to Flare that there was no choice but to defeat and collect here, and he’d like to know what kind of enemy she was before jumping into a fight. [Shrub (Star, Rank 20 Elite) - the Old One’s daughter. Schismist like him. Raised to be a prodigy Wizard. Dangerous.]

A Wizards’ duel circle sprung up at his feet. The circle pulled Shrub in, and then Jane joined Flare. Jane noticed the textbox in front of Flare. “What’sit say?”

“Star school… which could mean just about anything,” Flare answered. “And she’s the Old One’s daughter too. Whoever that is.”

“Ah, so she’s geezer the second.”

Shrub was visibly taken aback, insulted even. But she said nothing more.

Both sides wanted this fight to end quick. The longer they stayed, the more chance there was that someone would come in and discover them. Unfortunately, Flare and Jane made a dynamic duo with him as support to her offense, and Shrub was a pesky foe with all of the worst utility a foe with Myth and Balance mastery could have. Whenever Jane had too many blades, Shrub would Earthquake them off. Whenever Shrub dared to summon an aura on herself, Flare would pop it with a Supernova. Plays upon counterplays. Neither side went down easily.

Shrub’s health ticked down slow and eventual. She had no heals of her own, while Flare was able to keep Jane’s health stable with Availing Hands, and his own health up with the occasional Dark Shepherd. Jane grinned as she looked down at her spread of cards and pip count. “You’re going down!”

“What the hell’s going on in there!?” a voice shouted through the door. The handle rattled. “Shit. ALICE!” The person ran off to find this Alice.

Flare broke the duel ring apart. God fucking damn it. Of course you wouldn’t let it be so easy, Leah. One hit away from defeating Shrub or no, the two of them HAD to leave. Alice was a foreboding force, if she had access to this room that a typical anonymous soldier wouldn’t. 

“What the hell?!” Jane protested. “We had this!”

“That was before god put us on a timer of BASICALLY ZERO,” Flare countered. “We need to go.” He made a portal to outside, the indigo lake visible.

Shrub shoved Jane aside and barreled through the portal as soon as it was large enough for her to fit, like there was a fire at her heels too.

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!” Jane shouted at her, rushing after.

Flare ran out last, closing the portal behind him. As he stopped to catch his breath, he watched Shrub run… and couldn’t help but wonder for a moment why a Schismist warrior would be so desperate to flee the Schismists’ fort too.

Jane’s shouts crashed through Flare’s pondering. “FLARE! COME ON! WE CAN’T JUST LET HER GET AWAY LIKE THAT!”

Flare huffed and stretched his arms and wings out. “I’m coming!” Whatever weird infighting and sabotage and subterfugue there was plaguing the Schismists would have to wait. Flare and Jane had a job to do.

~

The two chased Shrub down to another leyline gate, but by the time they appeared on the other side, Shrub was out of sight. “SHIT!” Jane cursed. “MOTHERFUCKING DAMMIT! SON OF A BITCH!”

Flare draped a wing around Jane. “We’re not gonna give up,” he promised. “We just gotta look around for a bit. We don’t even have to rush anymore. We can just… take a breather. Maybe some snacks?”

Jane’s eyes brightened up at that. She was always up for a snack. Could you blame her? She was a growing kid, always hungry. “Y’know what, yeah. I could go for something.”

Flare looked around. These buildings all seemed very… official. Legislative. That’s the word. Not much of a place to get snacks. He approached a hamsterman in a suit and tie. “Excuse me, sir, would you happen to know where we can get something to eat?” he asked. “We’re, uh… tourists. This is our first time here.”

“Tourists, ja? Welcome to Wunderland! Karamelle’s wondrous bite of Novus, discovered by the renowned Alice von Wunder,” the hamsterman said. “You’ll find the lovely Shopping Town on the other end of the shard. Just follow the West Path!” He pointed to a brick path winding past an open gate. “Though, if the cotton candy storms are still over the bridge, you’ll have to go the long way round instead, down to Karamelle itself und sailing up from the Candyrock Summits.”

“Thanks, mister,” Jane piped up.

“Of course, of course!” the hamsterman assured. “Oh- also, are you alright, darling? You swore very loudly when coming out of the leyline!”

“Sprained my ankle,” Jane quickly lied.

“I was able to heal it,” Flare added, letting his hand glow with magical healing light, the Helping Hand spell out of combat. “Magic.”

“Ah, ja, of coure. Wizard types,” the man said. “Well, I won’t hold you here any longer! Have an Olde-Fashioned Delightful Day!™”

~

The West Path was a beautifully curated trail among the woods. The brick road lined with candylike flowers. Gumdrops and peanut-buttercups and fondant roses. The trees were dense around the path, but occasionally there was an opening. Suppose if someone wanted to take a hike or have a picnic, or a boss battle in peace.

If I weren’t used to Wizard101 logic I’d say that’s completely oxymoronic. A boss battle in peace. As if.

You know what I mean.

Yeah yeah.

“Hey, do you think the Alice here and the Alice that other guy was calling for are the same person?” Jane asked, interrupting the banter between an author and his character. 

“Not really. Do you?” Flare asked.

“It’s just… kinda weird. Coincidental?”

Flare shrugged. “Alice isn’t that rare a name.”

“Yeah, but… isn’t the whole deal with the Schismists that they’ve snuck into everywhere? Including politics? Like claiming the shard?”

“That is fair, but… sometimes a political figure is just that. Political. Not a cultist. We shouldn’t be trying to see more people as enemies than we have to.”

“Yeah, yeah… mercy and all that,” Jane sighed. “I just… don’t wanna be blindsided. Because I’m supposed to be the next Wizard… not to mention all the pirating… I gotta keep my eyes open, y’know? Like Ione said.”

“Ione’s always been a bit of a hardass.” Flare knew the Iones in both this spiral and his well. They mean well, but can sometimes get a bit… tunnel visioned. This spiral’s Ione was worse about it by leagues. “You can keep your eyes open for more than just enemies to fight.”

“I guess. I just… don’t wanna end up on a prison galleon in Polaris or something, you know? Or worse.” 

“Yeah, I know…” Flare nodded. It’s unfair, Jane has a lot of expectations on her shoulders at any given time. He could only do so much to alleviate the stress that everything piled up on her. “Can I ask why ya said Polaris specifically? Have you been, before?”

“Not in Polaris, that was just at the tip of my tongue for some reason. I had been in Skull Island, but a pair of pirates helped bust me out bef-” Jane stopped walking. She looked up at the sky in front of her in fear. “Flare.”

“Yeah?” Flare asked, now worried. He looked to where Jane as looking. “Oh-” In front of them roared a massive pink windstorm, engulfing the edges of the land. He tried to *Check the monstrosity.

[KLorem Ipsum Hamster Cinnamon Mole Hurdy-Gurdy]

“Leah,” Flare muttered, unable to keep his irritation at me silent. “Kindly. What the fuck.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Who the fuck is Leah?”

“I said that aloud?”

“Yep.”

Flare pinched the pridge between his eyes. “Oh.” Shit how do I explain that we’re characters being written out without giving you an existential crisis!? “Well… he’s basically the Raven, Spider, and Bartleby of the universe I came from.”

“Huh.” Jane hesitated. “His name sounds like just some guy.”

“Yeah. He kinda is. He’s also a massive troll, like what the fuck kind of flavor text is this, man??”

Cinnamon flavor text.

Flare sighed heavily. “I walked right into that one. Son of a bitch.”

“Wait, he answered you???” Jane asked, staring at Flare in utter bewilderment.

“Oh. Yeah. He does that, for better or worse… Usually better.”

“Huh.” Her voice was hollow, Flare’s attempts to stave off the existential crisis had failed. Her friend can just… talk to God. Casually. Damn. If only she could talk to any of the Big Three. But as the existentialism sank in, a miracle unfolded itself in front of the duo. The cotton candy storm parted, like Moses at the Red Sea. 

Flare stared at the storm in bewilderment. “... Son of a bitch rescinded. Doubling down on the ‘what the fuck’, though.” 

“... if I think about this too long I think I’m going to go crazy,” Jane resolved, shaking her head briskly. “But why did- wait nope. That’s thinking about it. Nope nope nope. Can’t do that.” She pushed ahead.

Flare, however, could think about it for longer without going crazy. This meta talk was his normal. So… why this whole cloud thing? Why’d it part for us? Is reality just… kinda fucky? Shitposty? Is this… I can’t think of a better word, normal for this Spiral?

Normal is a meaningless word in Novus and its many shards. This world is Nothing that Flare had ever seen. Magics that never had the chance to surface in his Spiral dance freely in this one. Storms that feast upon existentialism are just one of the ways the fuckiness manifests. For better and worse, there’s more to come.

~

Flare and Jane breached the far edge of the cotton candy storm. The marketplace sprawled out in front of them, with shops advertising sweets galore. The docks were quite busy as well, with one grand ship coming in right now. But right now, there were more important things to pay attention to.

“So… whatcha thinking?” Flare asked, gesturing to the motley of market stands.

Jane looked around, scanning the shops for what exactly she was in the mood for. And then she found it: the holy grail of snacks, the El Dorado of Wunderland. “Chocolate. Over there.” She hurried along, and Flare followed close by.

The hubbub of the market and docks seemed to get louder and louder. Flare glanced out at it, trying to see and hear what was going on. Two voices clamored above the din, though Flare couldn’t see who was shouting it: “... of eVERYTHING DON’T LET IT BE WHAT I THINK IT IS!”

“THEY SAID, AND I QUOTE, ‘GOOD LUCK KICKING THE CALAMARI’S ASS’!”

Flare laughed. “Damn, what the fuck? Jane, you hearing this?”

“Yep. I’m also hearing my stomach growl like crazy! C’mon!” Jane called. “You’ve got the money!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Karamellian candy hit different. Of course a world that’s an entire candy pun would specialize in some downright magical treats. Flare and Jane found a nice shaded spot to sit, chill, and snack. Flare kept his eyes on the skies. That Shrub… After this snack break, he and Jane would have to hunt her down. She probably had to fly around the cotton candy storms. That is… if she was even here. There was a chance that she was headed to some place in the middle of the woods, on the other side of the cotton candy storms, not having to fly at all.

Jane had much less serious things on her mind for now. She heard the mechanical whirr of some sort of… incredibly smooth clockwork come up to her. She looked down and gasped. A small mechanical cat sat in front of her. A bright red coat of paint on its face and body, its ears and tail segmented and silvers, its legs replaced with small wheels under its body. It stared up at Jane with the brightest digital (OwO) expression on its screen of a face. “Flare,” Jane gasped, staring at it as well, completely enamored.

Flare glanced down. “Oh! Where’d this fella come from?”

“No idea. It’s adorable, though.” Jane pet the metal kitten  on its head. It stretched its head up to meet her hand. A digital “Meow!” rang from it. “I’m keeping it,” Jane resolved.

“It’s not owned, is it?”

“It’s not wearing a collar.”

Flare decided to *Check it just in case. [Kit_10. The purrfect pet of Tomorrow! This one isn’t currently owned :3] “It’s your lucky day.”

Jane picked the Kit_10 up and hugged it close. “Hell fuckin’ yeah! I just gotta figure out what to name ya…”

“I’m sure a name will come to ya soon enough,” Flare said. He went back to watching the skies. Where could Shrub have possibly gone?

THERE! On a building by the docks! Leaning against the roof, the greens of her skin and suit almost blending in with the green rooftiles. Key word, almost. There was no way she was just… chilling up there. Flare could see the blueprints in her hands. She must be watching, or listening, or both. As much as Flare wanted to get up and see what was Shrub was espyin’ upon, he knew he’d be spotted if he moved.

Maybe that’d be to his advantage.

“I’m gonna see what’s up with the crowd,” he told Jane. “I’ll be back.”

Jane nodded. “I’ll be trying to come up with names for this guy.”

And down Flare went. Casual, unassuming, he tried his best to not look at Shrub. If she saw him looking at her, she’d know he knew she was there. These sorts of mind games were really dizzying to spell out, but not too hard for him to actually grasp and act upon. Meanwhile, the crowds were talking. Through all the hubbub, Flare couldn’t quite make out what any one person was saying, aside from a few key phrases that seemed almost entirely nonsequitur: Calamari, eldritch putty, Stallion Quartermane, Astral Alliance, Lemuria.

Lemuria was an incredibly… touchy point. It was why Flare was in this second Spiral in the first place. The Schismists of this Spiral had somehow come over to his own, stole an entire world, and brought it here. Flare had come over to this Spiral to warn its Arcanum that the Schismists were making these big moves, while his Arcanum had sent Maulwurf von Trap, ex-Schismist and skilled spy, to infiltrate the Schismists’ ranks and perhaps devise a way to bring Lemuria back?

Now that Flare thought about it, he hadn’t ever had much of a chance to check in on Maulwurf. Every time he actively remembered his friend, there’d always be something else that he HAD to take care of. But right now, there was no such rush. Flare tried to send a Whisper: Hey! Checking in. You safe? How’s Lemuria?

No response. 

He must be busy too, Flare realized. Sadge.

He glanced up towards the building, and just barely caught sight of Shrub’s tail slipping into the window. Damn, perfect timing. Had he looked up a second later, he would’ve missed that. Thank god I saw that. You’re welcome. That building had to be a meeting point of some kind, why else would she have snuck in? Trying to go inside, then coming out through the front door, then sneaking her way into another building would only risk her being noticed by the other people in the crowds.

Flare went back to Jane. “Whenever you’re ready, I found Shrub. We can go yoink the blueprints.”

“Oh shit!” Jane gasped. She stood up. “You bet your ass I’m ready! Let’s go!” She put her helmet on, then picked the Kit_10 up. “I’ll name this guy later. Haven’t had anything good come to mind.”

~

Flare and Jane went down to the building. It was a quaint three-story tower looking out over the docks. Makes sense the Schismists would want a foothold in a busy port, keep an eye on who comes and goes. There was a sign on the door saying “Authorized Personnel Only” in a handful of languages.

“Think we can just portal in?” Jane asked.

Flare looked up to the third floor. “It’ll be risky. We dunno the layout inside. I don’t wanna open up a portal into the middle of the room.”

“We kicked Shrub’s ass once before, we can do it again. This isn’t the entire fort. We won’t get swarmed”

“Meow!” the Kit_10 seemed to agree.

Flare mulled it over, but finally relented. “Alright. Prepare for the worst but hope for the best.” He opened a portal, and prayed that there’d be cover.

The portal opened up to the top of a stairwell. There was a hall and a bend between it and the main room. Perfect.

The duo crept in. Jane put the Kit_10 down. “Okay kitty, I need you to be quiet,” she whispered. “No meows, okay?”

The Kit_10 nodded its mechanical little head.

There was talking within the main room. Voices heard, but faces unseen. “- did not go as smoothly as we had planned, sir.” Shrub’s voice. “The Arcanum sent two of its soldiers to interfere and attempt to retrieve your works as well.”

“I trust you disposed of them?” an older man asked.

“I could not. They were too coordinated, and able to heal back the damage I cast. I only escaped because they fled as soon as we heard an Alliance grunt fetch a senior member.”

“I see. A botched mission that you succeed in is better than one you fail, but moving forward I expect you to do better.”

“Of course, sir.”

A silence.

“... Father,” Shrub amended.

A chill ran through Flare as he put two and two together. He made a text box, silent. [the Old One himself.]

Oh shit, Jane mouthed. She glanced down, to check on the Kit_10. It wasn’t at her feet. She tapped Flare’s arm and pointed down at where the Kit_10 no longer was.

Oh shit, Flare mouthed as well. Fuck, where did it go?!

The Old One made but the slightest ‘hm’ of recognizing his other title. “I trust these two soldiers didn’t track you.” As if the Arcanum would ever resort to tactics that low! Flare and Jane had followed her themselves, they were just that good, no extra trackers required!

“Of course not,” Shrub assured. “They made no physical contact with me, and I was airborne and past the treeline by the time they came through the leyline gate. Additionally, the cotton candy storms are swarming, and only one of the soldiers is winged. With how coordinated they were, I doubt he would have chased after me alone, especially considering he was merely support to the other.”

“Meow!” 

OH SHIT. THAT WAS FROM THE MAIN ROOM.

Silence, and then “Meow! Meow! Meow! Meeeow! Meeeow! Meeeow! Meow! Meow! Meow!” 

“There goes stealth,” Jane grumbled. “Fuck it.” She charged to the main room, Flare right behind, to see the Kit_10 desperately shaking its head and whipping its tail around, as if struggling in the grip of… the Old One. An imposing figure, standing some seven foot tall, his piercing pale gray eyes, immaculate suit (classy top hat included), and posture all radiating an aura of cold command. That was one hell of a B.B.E.G. a la modern video game design if Flare had ever seen one.

Shrub reacted to Jane and Flare barging in first, however. “YOU! How did you-”

“As if we’d ever let you know, Shrub!” Flare retorted. “You ran into the wrong Wizards!”

“You gave them your name?” the Old One asked Shrub.

“I would never!” Shrub insisted. “They- I won’t let you two show me up again!”

The Old One stretched a wing to Shrub’s shoulder, the claw at the tip poking at her skin. “You are being rash. Your judgement clouds.”

“Meow!” the Kit_10 screeched, releasing a spark from its body. The Old One flinched and dropped it, and it rushed right over to Jane.

“… I see the Arcanum’s judgement has clouded over as well, if they think they can send two of its pawns to properly meddle,” the Old One continued. “I suppose you had chance abound to turn back, but mercy is not an option within the Arcanum.”

Flare hated how the Old One ripped that philosophy out of his soul and turned it against him. But… he was right, wasn’t he? There’s no way this can end peacefully now. There was no way the Old One and Shrub would let them leave, with or without the blueprints. There was bound to be a fight. Flare tightened his grip on his spelldeck, and Jane on her wand. 

“Your deaths are entirely your fault,” the Old One warned. He snapped his fingers, and into battle he dragged himself, Shrub, Flare, and Jane. 

Flare quickly *Checked the chthonic man. [The Old One (Myth-Life, Rank 20 Boss) - Secret author of history. Always watching, always nudging. Actually dangerous.] “Oh, this is gonna suck,” Flare groaned. Good luck kicking the calamari’s ass, indeed!

“How bad?” Jane asked.

“Myth-Life. He can heal.”

“Motherfucker.”

Even though the duel circle had declared that Flare and Jane would move first, the Old One had a cheat up his sleeve. A Wyldfire sprung around them all. The Old One didn’t make any scoff or taunt about how apparently he had even more than just two schools of magic at his command.

Flare handed Jane a Blade, and Jane wasted no time attacking Shrub. She had learned from the first fight with her, trying to stack multiple buffs was a waste of time, a pesky Earthquake would just toss it to the wint. This fight would have to be won by a thousand papercuts, and hopefully they can outdamage the Old One’s heals.

An aura sparked to life at the Old One’s feet, and Shrub cast a Spiritblade upon her father. And then the damndest thing happened: the Death portion of the Spiritblade popped, and a second set of Myth- and Lifeblades took its place.

“What the fuck?!” Jane shouted. “That’s bullshit!”

“Now I get what the ‘actually’ was for,” Flare muttered. “He’s gonna sweep us.” But for now, the two of them were still standing. Flare used a cheeky Donate Power, Jane would need all the pips she could get for attack spamming. Jane bid her time with an aura of her own. The Old One cast a pesky weakness on Jane, and Shrub once again lent a blade to her father, which once again burst into a Myth- and Lifeblade pair.

Flare’s heart sank deeper. What was that… six different blades on the Old One in two turns?! If he hit, then the two of them would absolutely wipe. There’s no way Jane could take a triple-bladed hit, and Flare wouldn’t be in good shape either! He cast a Spirit shield on Jane, and Jane lobbed another attack at Shrub. Her attacks weren’t the strongest as is, and that extra Weakness from last round DID NOT HELP.

Finally, the Old One sent an absolute behemoth of an attack. Tatzlewurm, a nasty AOE that neither Jane nor Flare had ever seen, let alone been on the receiving end of! Shielding Jane was the right call! Holy shit! Shrub then cast an attack of her own, at Jane! Just to pile on the pain.

Only three rounds in and this fight was already going bad. Flare chose to heal himself with an Availing Hands, and Jane picked out a Tower shield to also help Flare stay on his feet- but before either spell could come out, the Old One had yet another cheat?! Out of absolutely NOWHERE, a DoT burned into existence at the two Wizards’ feets, then a frigid Balefrost took Wyldfire’s place. 

Flare was damn glad that he and Jane both went on the defensive!

The Old One decided to go defensive as well, casting a Tower Shield of his own- that glitched and became an absorb for- 

“EX FUCKING CUSE ME?!” Jane shouted out of turn. “FIVE FUCKING THOUSAND?!”

“You made a mistake trifling in Schismist affairs!” Shrub taunted on the Old One’s behalf. “Now you see what you’re messing wi-”

“Enough!” the Old One scolded Shrub. “You make yourself seem a fool with your banter.” 

Admonished, Shrub simply cast her spell, a Balanceblade like before. Strangely, this time, it didn’t split. Did the Old One’s abilities depend on which Global buff was up?

“Jane, try casting a bubble,” Flare suggested. “We could use the extra edge, and… I’ve got a theory.”

Jane nodded and cast out a Balance of Power while Flare healed himself again. The bubble took over the Balefrost for a moment, then faltered.

“Alright. That solves nothing. Good to know,” Flare grimaced.

“Playing by this bastard’s rules…” Jane growled. She glanced down at the Kit_10 at her feet. This was all the damn pet’s fault! If it hadn’t rolled out here, then there would’ve been a chance that they could’ve avoided this fight! If Jane hadn’t taken it in the first place, then it wouldn’t have been anywhere near here! Mad at the damn pet, mad at herself. But it’s not like she could do anything about it now! She’s in a fight! And… she doesn’t have the heart to leave such an itty bitty weird clockwork kitty all alone. A captain doesn’t abandon any of her crew, not even the kind that gets her in danger. She made a damn commitment to the Kit_10, for better and for worse.

The fight dragged on, Flare and Jane both struggling to keep themselves and each other alive. Flare began to rely heavily on Dark Shepherd to sustain himself, but even that wasn’t enough. They hardly had the chance to properly attack, and what damage they did do to Shrub and the Old One was quickly healed back up, either by Healing Currents that the Old One just happened to be able to use as a Darkwind crackled around them, or with a healing spell Flare had never seen before, Never Say Die, when the Old One’s own Balance of Power shone.

Flare couldn’t see a way out. Everything he tried to think of felt like it would fail, either thanks to his own exhaustion or the Old One’s power or the Spiral itself enforcing its rules and rejecting every other magic. He couldn’t break the duel circle apart because he wasn’t the one who summoned it this time! He couldn’t summon portals while in combat, and even if he could, it’s not like he could go through them! The duel circle kept him right where he stood. The other nonSpiralian magic he had didn’t translate well into Spiral combat, plus how much could it even possibly do, as spent as Flare was already? How much determination did he really have, in the face of certain doom? His hands were tied. Perhaps he’d be a braver and foolier martyr who could say ‘fuck it’ and try some desperate gambit, if it weren’t for the fact that Jane was here. He had to keep Jane safe. He was bound to that duty.

Jane didn’t have her own ‘Jane’ to keep safe. She was getting pissed. Trying to help Flare heal the two of them was getting nowhere, Wizard heals were nothing like the heals a Pirate could use! She looked to the spells in her hand. One card appeared all sorts of fucked up. Torn, blurred, covered in glitches and blocks of black static. She had been avoiding using that spell because using a fucked up spell like that simply… felt dangerous. Like using a sparkthrower that clearly wasn’t maintained, or a busted shield. But at this point, she had no other option. She cast it, a hail mary.

The attack spun itself together, taking the form of a… pillar? A tree? Before she could even tell what the fuck it was, though, it glitched and fell apart. A waste of however many pips she had. 

Dread strangled her like handcuffs and an ill-fitting necklace. What the actual shit was that? Are you fucking kidding me? No. NO. I’m not letting my turn be a fucking waste! Her absolute rage cut through whatever bullshit laws of magic forced this entire song and dance. A dagger through tough ropes. To hell with ‘turns’ in the first place! Jane grabbed the Kit_10 and stormed forward. “HEY, MOLD ONE! EAT SHIT!” And she threw the Kit_10 at the Old One with the fury of a thousand fucking suns.

The Old One brought his arms up to try and catch the Kit_10. However its momentum barreled it past his hands, and it crashed into his sternum, his windpipe, his spine. Like a cannonball tearing through a flimsy ship hull. Absolute shock and indignation. How did this child-

His body collapsed under the weight of the Kit_10, and his spine failing. For better and worse (though mostly for better), the Old One was as damned as dead.

Shrub stared at her father’s corpse. Terror ate at her bones. Her stomach churned at the sight of some of of her father’s blue blood trickling out from his mouth. “You…”

“Geeettttttt dunked on!” Jane crowed. “Hey, Flare, how’d I do?”

Flare blinked, getting out of his shocked stupor. “Uh- You did great! Let’s get out of here.” He had no idea how Jane had done… any of that, but good for her! And what the fuck! But mostly good for her! He broke the duel circle apart and picked up the blueprints Shrub had left on a small desk in the corner.

“Meow!” the Kit_10 said, chipper as ever, despite it still sitting on a bloody corpse.

“And you did great too!” Jane said, scooping the Kit_10 in her arms, babytalking it. “I am so proud of you!”

Flare made a portal to the Arcanum. “Let’s get that cleaned up before you cuddle it,” he told Jane with a slight chuckle. He wanted to get out of here. He didn’t do well with corpses. Especially not fresh ones.

“NO,” Shrub screeched, all the grief and hatred bursting from her in a moment. “No, I will not let you get away with this! Don’t you dare think you can get away with this!” She glared at Flare and Jane, her eyes as smoldering hot as her late father’s had been piercing cold. “I am what you two could never be. What neither Arcanum nor Alliance could ever understand. Neither you nor Manticore can stop the Spiral’s true fate!”

Jane opened her mouth to deliver one last scathing clapback, but Flare stood in the way and gently nudged her through the portal. She was grieving, snapping, they should at least give her the mercy of quiet. He closed the portal as soon as the two were through.

“Awh come on, are ya seriously gonna let her have the last word?” Jane asked. “I had a helluva jeer for her, too! I’m already what she is, just some girl with a dead dad!”

Flare took a deep breath. How the hell to explain this. “We cannot take another fight. We’ve got like… what, maybe two hundred HP apiece, was it?”

“And what’re we supposed to do, just let her ramble and diss us like that?”

“We rest. We recover. And who knows, maybe she’ll find us and we get a chance to fight her again.” Those words dropped from his mouth and settled in his gut like lead. He did not want to face her again. He hadn’t wanted to be accomplice for murder. He hadn’t wanted to force Jane into a position where she had to murder. But for better and for worse… it happened anyway. “You should wash yourself and the Kit_10 off. I’ll hand in the blueprints and report to Ione.”

~

A few hours later, after the not-so-simple quest had been turned in, Flare found Jane and the Kit_10 over by Sybil, the sleeping birch of the Arcanum. He still had no idea what its name was. “So, got any ideas of names for it?”

“Meow!” the Kit_10 mewed as Flare approached.

“How about Stabbington the Squidslayer?” Jane asked. “They did help, after all.” She gave it a pat on the head.

Flare sat down next to Jane. “Someone might get mad,” he warned. “Y’know, given that’s literally us admitting our crime. And accomplice.” Technically the Kit_10 was a weapon, not an accomplice, but technicalities.

“So… not a great idea in the slightest. Gotcha…” Jane looked aside. She was used to being proud of her crimes. Having to keep silent about her accomplishment, especially with how kickass it was, felt stifling. 

“But… we can make a pun out of it so convoluted nobody will guess?”

“Oh yeah!”

Flare rushed to the Arcanum’s Repository, grabbed a encyclopedia of marine life, and hurried back to Jane. “Let’s see… what puns can we come up with for…” He flipped over to the page for the common squid. “Loligo vulgaris?” He then did a double take. “Wait. Vulgaris? Really?? What the hell, scientists???” What’s so vulgar about a squid?

“What about… Grim Bubbles?” Jane then suggested. “Grim like the grim reaper, and bubbles because sea life?”

Flare gasped and slammed the encyclopedia shut. “That’s GENIUS.”

“Why, thank you!” Jane tried to bow, overdramatic and proud. It just looked like she was folding herself over Grim Bubbles, gloping it in an armless hug. She then straightened up. “I do have a wonderful teacher, after all.”

“That ya do,” Flare admitted, letting himself have a moment of pride too.

“Meow!” Bubbles said. It wheeled around, mechanical zoomies.

“Aww, they like it too!” Jane cooed. 

It was rather nice, being able to play with Bubbles. A moment of lightheartedness and peace. Jane didn’t have any regrets today. Flare had a few, but that’s simply to be expected. He could never take something as face value or absolute. 

~

This quest happened for better and worse, and the two of them were certain it was ultimately for the better.

[stupidbeecandle]

Families are weird. I just spent the day with mine for a birthday ( not mine). We decided to keep things tame and just play some board games. I am wearing a full witch cosplay as I have every day for the last 5 years.

I had to restrain my 60 year old father after he climbed on and teabagged my husband. My mom is cheering the madness on with explatives with the drama and force of every shakespearean actor ever to take the stage. My husband is impressed by her tone and delivery, enough that he forgets the feeling of my dads old man nuts.

Everyone is entirely sober. A relative has taken their shirt off and is twirling it over her head in order to explain what vladamir putin looks like. Two people are having a screaming match over whether or not phineas gage could beat hillary clinton in a fight. Team phineas says that he has kept the railroad spike. Team Hillary points out that Hillary would fight dirty.

Something has peed on a chair cushion. Im pretty sure it was someones pet. I am not certain. I decide that it doesnt really matter since Ill clean it the same either way.

Actoss the room my uncle is talking about the good old days with his partner of over 45 years who openly calls him daddy. They are discussing getting "pup" a new porche for being a good boy.

Another area still is a trailmix station where people are quietly eating a selection of pretzels and dried fruits, occasionally lighting up and pointing a snack out to the others.

This is the chillest family get together Ive had in ages. Things went to shit for awhile after the last matriarch died and folks vied for power trying to decide what money and resources went where. Who would call the shots, and how conservative vs how liberal different households should lean The family agrees that I am going to be the new matriarch and make important family decisions because "it just makes sense, we all think you're a good fit and youre old enough now and usually end up taking the role anyway". My family is weird and has a heirarchical structure, atypical beliefs, atypical traditions, and a concept of "acceptable" that would break nearly anyones boundaries.

I think about how people in my training program think Im weird and wild and unpredictable. I have just learned that the all-autistic borderline cult I grew up in has just elected me its new leader. Im sure someone is going to "and then everybody clapped" this, but shit is weird and Im kind of excited to see where things are going to go from here.

[mingi-bubu]

14. “Yes.  No.  I don’t know.”

fictober22~

*once again slaps my blog like it’s the top of a mini-cooper and i’m a car salesman* back at it again with the lore of a fantasy!verse i didn’t realize i was going to write again in for a while!  while this is a pre-relationship fae!wooyoung x gn!elemental manipulator!yn, the story is actually platonic light manipulator!yeosang x gn!elemental manipulator!yn

fantasy!verse, mentions of other ateez members, twice dryad!sana, svt werewolf!mingyu, and txt wer-fox!yeonjun and werewolf!beomgyu, angst, uni au, prequel to 76 Kisses’ Prompt #51, ~1.2k

fictober22 masterlist | prompt #51

“So, how’s it going with Captain Clueless,” Yeosang asks as he sidles up next to you.  He sits down in the open seat of the stone bench next to you, and you feel the unnatural warmth that accompanies him on your skin.  You find it funny that even when he dyes his hair dark, it still looks like he has a halo encircling him.  It’s not solid like the heavenly beings’ are, but Yeosang’s has a similar effect in terms of appearance.  His expression, you see out of the corner of your eye, is plain, but he has a sparkle in his eyes that is more than just his power’s doing.

You let out a sigh, resigning yourself to this distraction.  You had been studying, peacefully even!, at one of the many picnic tables that litter the quad.  The sound of humming of the sirens in the lake next to the low wall that separated it from the quad was nice background music to it all.  The border spells that the university’s maintenance department cast on the low walls masked the Siren’s Spell enough to keep from wandering into the lake to follow their call.

With a roll of your eyes, you look up from your textbook.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  Yeosang is sitting facing the wrong way, his back to the table as he leans on it with his elbows.  He had been bugging you for weeks now about what did, or rather, what didn’t happen with Wooyoung at the wers’ party he dragged you to because Yeonjun told him about it.  Damned fox.

“So you two haven’t talked about it yet?”  He sits up and faces you, his left leg coming up and bending at the knee.  

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you retort, knowing that Yeosang knows you don’t believe yourself even as you say it.  It doesn’t help that the air around the two of you cools as you speak.  Temperature and elemental interactions were something you struggled with, and your control got worse when you felt stressed.

Even though you don’t really believe yourself, your statement was true.  Nothing had happened between you and the fae that night.  Something could have, but it didn’t.  You still don’t understand why, if you were being honest.  And despite knowing Yeosang has heard it all already a thousand times, you go over what didn’t happen again.

“I mean, even if there was something to talk about,” you start.

Yeosang interrupts. “There is.”

You glare at him. “If there was,” you say again, “it doesn’t make sense.  Even both Gyus had left us alone by that point.”  You could excuse Beomgyu; he was still a pup compared to Mingyu, who should have stopped acting like one by this point.  “So there were literally no interruptions in the back garden of the manor.  Even Sana left her tree to give us privacy!  Which is, like, practically unheard of nowadays!”

Dryads leaving their trees at will was a form of the past, not the present.  Not with the many dangers that came to their homes.  Granted, the manor where the wers’ party was being held is under the magical protection of the university.  So Sana leaving her Sakisima-suonoki wasn’t atypical.  She had to get to class, of course.  But even now, with how long you’ve been in this protected area, it was still jarring.

“And we were alone, right?  And he was in front of me, and there were fireflies around us,” your tone is wistful, remembering the scene.  You don’t realize one of your hands had started to sketch the scene in front of you and Yeosang.  You became lost in the memory, thin lines of fire following the paths your finger cast in the air.  “I didn’t even process the howling and yowling from the wers in the manor.  And wind ruffled his hair, the fireflies’ lights glinting off his black hair and turning it almost red.  His eyes… they shone gold, and we were standing so close.  And he leaned in and I thought…”  You come back to yourself, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping your mouth, the taste of it bitter on your tongue.  “But no, it wasn’t to be.”

The portrait of Wooyoung in fire goes out, smoke taking its place before that, too, disappears.

You look over at your friend, his face decorated with a frown.  It also appeared like the light that is always with him had dimmed, much to your surprise.  “I’m sorry, Yeosangie, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He opens his mouth, but lets out a sigh instead.  He breaks your gaze, blinking as he tries to pull his thoughts together.  Looking off to the side, not unusual for him, he asks you, “Well, do you want a relationship with him?  I know you’ve been talking about how nothing happened, but… Well, do you want something to, really?”

“Yes.”  You answer immediately.  And then the memory of Wooyoung smiling politely and stepping back from you, the fireflies dispersing as he did, floats to the front of your mind.  “No.”  You huff out a frustrated breath.  “I don’t know!”  The words come out as a whine.  “I don’t even know what’s going on in his head half the time.  If he just told me–”

Yeosang snorts, his gaze returning to yours.  “Yeah, because that’s what the Fair Folk are known for.  Their straightforwardness.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say, pushing at his arm with enough force to make him sway.

“I’m just saying,” he teases back.  A beat of silence pushes between the two of you before Yeosang starts speaking again.  “Why haven’t you talked to him yet, YN?”

Silence falls between you again as you really think about your answer.  Why haven’t you?  It’s not like there haven’t been plenty of opportunities since that night.  Well, after the few days after where the two of you avoided each other like selkies avoid leaving their pelts around.

Yeosang seems content to let you think as much as you want, taking to a favorite pastime of his: finding a reflective surface and playing with witches’ familiars.  You break the silence.  “I think that… I haven’t talked to him because I don’t want to lose him.”  You say slowly.  Yeosang stops playing with the creatures, and listens to you as you explain.  “He’s such a good friend,” you say earnestly, “and I really don’t want to lose that.  Not because of some fleeting fancy at the thought of being his and him being mine.  He deserves better than that.”

“YN,” Yeosang says softly, “I think the S.S. Fleeting Fancy left the harbor a long time ago.  Probably a month after you met him.”

“I know,” your voice is equally soft.  “It has.”

“You should tell him,” he encourages.  “Wooyoung isn’t going to be a dick about it if he doesn’t feel the same way.  You know how Fair Folk are about love.  And even if his kin weren’t like that, he isn’t either.  The worst that happens is it’ll be awkward again for a few days, like it was after the wers’ party, and the two of you will be back to kicking it and teasing Seonghwa.  You know this.”

“Yeah,” you take a deep breath and let it out.  You make a conscious effort to not blow the leaves off of the tree a dozen or so feet ahead of you.  Manipulating air when you were distracted was never a good thing for anyone.  “I’ll talk to him.  Thanks, Sangie.”