#I have never had a cat do that before (the hissing to be fed)

[magic-multicolored-miracle]

Why does this small creature that lives in my house get so Hangry?

[octopiys]

what happens if honey (reader) is home alone and theres a break in? or she's in any danger and Simon's not there haha hypothetically what happens 👁👁

ohhhh anon I love what you're thinking here

Lost and Found

Cw: panic attack, violence, blood, death (but its deserved) [not proofread]

Simon goes out of town for his job. He was lucky, he said, too have as much time off for that long while as he did.

He'd only be gone a few days.

Yeah, a few days, you can do that, right? Easy.

You had a ton of leftovers and still more food in the fridge. You should have enough dog food to keep the bowls full outside, and you can still go out in the yard.

You're not on house arrest while he's gone. You can still do whatever you want.

So for the first hour, you sat on the couch, staring at nothing while the duck slept in the box, and Scraggle settles right in your lap, yapping.

What could you do while he was gone? You were overwhelmed with possibility. What couldn't you do?

You missed him. Tears pricked your eyes, stung the waterline, you missed him.

So you do what you're good at, and cook about it.

Kinder to bury your sorrows in the stove than in the ground. What can you make?

There's fish in the freezer. You're not sure what kind it is, but it's only labeled with "price."

What the price is, you're not sure. But Simon would've told you if there was something you couldn't use, right? Maybe it's an expensive fish. Bagged in vacuum seal plastic..... yeah, it probably won't be missed.

You're frying tonight. You've got bread crumbs and oil, and a spare lemon from the fruit bowl. The sun is setting, and the first piece comes off as a test.

You try some of it, hissing at how hot it was, before making direct eye contact with Scraggle, who suddenly seems like it's never been fed in its life. You roll your eyes and slide some to the cat with a quiet warning of "It's hot!"

The cat paws at the piece of fish, before launching in a perfect vertical off the counter, yowling it's head off. It leaps off the counter, does a lap around the room, knocks a few sheets off the printer, launches back onto the counter– you can't help but watch, there was no way to stop it– takes the fish in it's mouth, and darts outside.

You stand in the kitchen, alone and in disbelief.

You look around, as if Simon could've seen that whole fiasco, before laughing softly to yourself.

(Those cameras prove interesting videos when there's a lull in the mission, or there's quiet time in the safehouse. He'll wait for you to tell him about it first. The cameras won't be mentioned.)

The fish and potatoes come off the stove, and you make yourself a plate. You set it at the table, before going to put a record on.

Simon had forgotten he had those. They were stowed away in the garage, with a bunch of old boxes that he still couldn't bare to look through yet.

He hears some old tunes playing from inside of the house, and freezes, memories jolting back to stun him.

He's stumbled into the house, using the walls to push him along, feeling weak in the legs and soft in the head, spinning out of control, until he sees you humming along in the kitchen, the soft sway of your hips to the tunes of an old song he can't remember the name of. You're tasting cookie dough from a spoon, lost in the bliss of it all. At peace. Safe.

He swallows roughly, a sting at his eyes unfamiliar, the tightness in his chest suffocating.

For the first time in years, he thinks the words: I miss my mom.

You hadn't noticed him enter then, those weeks ago, nor had you heard him leave. You sway your hips, moving rhythmically to the instrumental soundtrack as you made your way over to the table.

You were sure Barrow was asleep somewhere, and the smaller mutt with her (inseparable, they were), and Scraggle was off somewhere, recovering from its zoomies. Just you and the music to dinner, then.

By the time your dinner had finished, the dogs were out for the night. The bowls were full, and new blankets were layed out.

You decide to take a bath tonight. Simon said you could use his bathroom, and you wanted to maybe try and take full advantage of it.

When was the last time you had a proper bath? You didn't have any salts, but that's okay. There were a few candles in the cabinet in the kitchen, and your bodywash would bubble up the hot water enough.

You hum softly to yourself as you slip out of your clothes and into the warm water with a sigh. Relaxation slips into your being as the water spills over every inch of you, your hair not touching the water. Your book, the old copy of the Hobbit, finds it's way into your hands as you pick up where you left off. The music is still playing down the hall.

The pony is in the river– something breaks outside. Scraggle must've gotten on your plate, silly you for leaving it out.

The brothers go after the pony, ladden with supplies, but Kili-

The music ends abruptly.

You freeze, hairs on your arms standing straight up. Your stomach flips with sudden anxiety, despite virtually nothing happening.

Obviously, Scraggle must've unplugged the cord after hopping off the table where your plate was. Yeah, that was it.

–pony, ladden with sup–

Ice floods your veins at the realization. You were supposed to be alone in the house. Scraggle hadn't come back inside before you locked the back door.

You cover your mouth to stifle a gasp, scrambling out of the tub as quiet, and urgently, as you could. You slip back into whatever you were wearing before, it didn't matter if it had been dirty or not.

Did Simon keep weapons in the house? There were steak knives in the kitchen. The main phone line was in there, too.

Simon had an emergency phone in his night stand.

Something smashes and you jolt, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you move to peek around the lower corner of the bathroom door.

Shadows dance along the wall and your heart skips a few beats, dancing in your throat.

Had he come to find you?

N- no, you were safe here. Simon told you, he promised you were- what was the emergency dial for this region? You didn't know, could it change? You had to find the phone, and something to defend yourself with.

You held your breath, skin damp, still practically half naked, before darting across the room to the nightstand, and pulling it open soundlessly.

Inside were a few cords, a notepad, moisturizer, and a flip phone.

Of course it was a flip phone.

You open up the contacts tab, cringing at each small beep made by the keypad, tucked in the gap between Simon's large bed and the wall.

>JP

>JM

>KG

>Work

What do you choose? Who were these contacts?

You hear someone laugh, and tears spill down your cheeks. You can't go back, you can't, he couldn't find you this soon.

The phone is dialing. You don't remember which one you picked.

It answers on the second ring. No one speaks.

"...s- simon-" Your voice wobbles out, just below a whisper. Something else breaks, and a quiet sob leaves your mouth.

"Honey? Why're you-"

Relief breaks across you at the familiar gruffness of Simon's voice. Thank God he picked up.

"Someone- someone's in the house- two people- I d- don't know what-" You stumble over your words quickly, trying to tell him everything all at once. You can't breathe. "Need- your help, please-"

"Someone's in the house?" You can hear him stand. There's a bite in his voice, like the edge of a dagger, or the cold of a glacier, immobile. "Where are you?"

"Y- Yes, Simon, please-" You hiccup, stifling another sob with a hand over your mouth. You tell him you're in between his bed and the wall.

"There's a lockbox under the bed. Can you see it?" He asks you.

You scoot a bit, and peer under the bed. It's practically spotless, the gap between the bed and the floor just large enough to squeeze in if someone needed to get under there. You locate the box.

It's on the other side, closest to the door.

"I- I see it-" You whisper.

"Get in there. There's a code-"

You'd have to put yourself between the box and the door in order to open it. They were just down the hall, how they hadn't made their way back here yet, you didn't know. Then they'd catch you, they'd catch you for sure if you left your spot right here, and drag you all the way back- they'd push you through the fields, and the miles of woods, oh god, they'd make you go back to him. They'd make you go back to-

"Honey-"

You're hyperventilating, thinking yourself into a hole. There's no way that you could see yourself getting out of here in the way you want.

"Honey!"

You snap back into it. Lockbox.

"S- Sorry- I can reach it, let me just-" You take a deep breath to steady yourself, and push yourself under the bed. You reach, and can't touch it, so you dig harder, push yourself a little more until your fingertips graze the cold metal of the box, and you tug it towards your, curling in on yourself to open the box.

You punch in the code, open the box, and–

A hand wraps around your ankle and yanks with a sick pop, pulling you out from under the bed. You scream, your phone clattering into the box. You see it close, watching in horror as the bed disappears from above you, your shoulder catching on the underside of the bed on the way out.

You immediately turn, fight or flight kicking in, and lash out, screaming. Your fingers dig into the man's throat, you can't see, before his arm rears back and strikes you across the face.

You don't remember hitting the floor.

You come to, the coarseness of the carpet scratching your back, rugburn. You twitch, blinking the bleariness out of your eyes before writhing, you're being dragged by your legs. You kick out, screaming, turning to grab the walls, or nearest piece of furniture. A book on the ground, you launch it at the head of the man, covered in a ski mask.

He yelps out, dropping you, and you scramble to your feet, head spinning, before you launch yourself back down the hallway.

There's a man in your house.

You find another man in Simon's room. He's got the box open at his feet.

You lunge at him, screaming, your mind blank with fear, or rage or- well, there are men in your house. They want to hurt you.

Who would care for your animals if you were gone?

You don't know how, but the gun is in your hands.

There's blood, and there's a lot of it, and you can't tell how much of it is yours.

There is a man, in your house.

You rise shakily to your feet, heart thudding in your ears. You turn to the doorway of Simon's room.

You make your way out of the room, a heavy limp to your step, your hips ache in the curve of your legs, a dull pain muted by adrenaline.

No one. No one will hurt your animals. No one will hurt your house.

Lucky for you, the man meets you halfway. His nose is bleeding, and you raise your gun at him.

He stops, leaning against the wall as he smiles, the blood from his nose staining his teeth.

"Cmon, Baby, you don' know what yer doin'... Jus' drop the gun. I'll help you out, Baby, cmon Baby, jus-" He coos at you, like you're helpless.

There's a yowl, and a flash of cat, and Scraggle appears from almost nowhere, sinking it's toothy mouth into the man's ankle. He shouts out, hopping up onto one foot, flinging his other wildly. Scraggle shoots up into the air, before landing on its feet, hissing erratically.

The man starts forward towards your cat.

"Why you little-"

There's another flash.

You sink to the ground, your head in a pounding agony. You can't hear anything past the ringing in your ears, the loud screech leftover by a fired gunshot in close quarters. You can't hear, can't breathe.

You're bleeding, somewhere, you don't know if you can find out the source.

Scraggle curled up in your lap, purring and licking at your hand.

Did you see, mother. Did you see how good Scraggle has done. Defended the home front, all alone, no help at all, did you see how good Scraggle has done? Praise it, praise it mother, feed it extra tonight, Scraggle deserves it, bested the beasts by itself, it did-

Your eyes drag over to the body of the man in the hall, and you do nothing about it. A kind of satisfaction fills you, like sweet rot, mossy mildew in your chest. Your hand rests on Scraggle, who was completely unharmed.

There's a slight smile on your face as the medicine kicks in, and you nestle in closer to Simon. The questions will come later, sleep is now. No one hurts your animals.

You blink, and someone's crouching in front of you, cradling your head in his hands. You hum, tired enough to not bother opening your eyes. He opens them for you, shining a bright light, and you flinch back with a whine.

He's pressing his forehead to yours the second the light disappears, mumbling something you still can't hear.

You mouth his name, or say it, you can't tell, and lean into the warmth that is Simon. Your face is wet with fresh tears, and everything hurts, fix it Simon, please-

He pulls you into his arms, Scraggle brushing up against you, purring. You can't hear it, but you can feel the vibrations of your favorite little critter, trying to do it's best to help heal you.

You're carried to your room and sat in your bed, Simon wrapping your shoulder in bandages– when did he get those?– and looking at your ankle. You're sleepy, you lean against him, seeking warmth body heat and comfort. He wraps his arms around you, and you fall under, your eyes drifting shut as you start to snooze against him.

You didn't seem to make the connection that there was more than one person helping him out, no matter how they got there so quickly.

John sticks his head into the room as you fall asleep, spotting Gaz on the floor trying to set your ankle, and Simon behind you, holding your sleeping form.

"She alright?"

"Yeah, sir. Just a bit roughed up. Where's Soap?" Simon rumbles, voice noticeably quieter.

Scraggle jumps up on the bed, nesting between you both. Blessings and healing to mother, blessing to father-

"Takin' out the trash." John responds. "Mind if we crash here for the night, once we get it all cleaned up?"

"Not in the least. There's pasta in the fridge, Cap'n."

And no one calls you Baby.

masterlist

[cloververse]

Moon 48 (pt5)

WRITING BELOW THE EXPAND

GRRRRRrrrrr this amazing page holey shit was made by my dearest friend TACOBELLA, who works on the amazing @fog-clan Catch them at: https://comicfury.com/profile.php?username=TACOBELLABAE https://bsky.app/profile/tac0bella.bsky.social https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fog-clan

Next:

Previous: Moon 48 pt4

"He is alive??” Poodle exclaimed, swatting the half eaten mice away. Trouble winced at the action but remained still, tension radiating throughout her whole body. “Oh that little ungrateful pup… You have been hiding right under our noses all this time, haven’t you…” The fluffy molly growls lowly in the direction of the trees, racking her claws against the mossy stone.

She soon let out a heavy sigh, grooming her claws in frustration. “That won’t do. That won’t do at all.”

Trouble hesitated, aware of the ruthlessness of the Hound’s executioner. Had seen first hand her power. “And what will it be done…?” Not that it was any of her bussiness, but something about seeing the cold and collected cat lose her temper like that was shocking enough to chase away some caution.

Poodle, however, didn’t even grace her with an answer, almost like she had forgotten the cat was even there, licking her paw in thought. “You were his friend once.”

“What?”

“He cared about you.” Poodle turned to face the scruffier cat, a plan clear as day formulating on her eyes. “Did he not?”

“I-if you call what happened caring, maybe love is overrated after all-“ Trouble huffs with fake humor, taking a step back, starting to feel cornered, the tension in the air getting noticeably thicker.

Poodle just laughed, equally mirthless, finally looking back at the other cat, with some sort of pity that one would look at a small kitten with. It set something off in Trouble’s mind immediately. “He tried so hard to keep your little group out of Heller's sight and yet…” She sighed. “He was a naive thing, that one. But determined enough to make every stupid decision in the book before running away. A coward.”

run.

“His heart is his biggest weakness.” Poodle continued, checking on her sharp, unsheathed claws. “Also so easy of a target. You see, it was easy to affect him the first time those he cared about got hurt. I bet this time wont be all that different.”

Run.

“You- You promised we wouldn’t get harmed if I agreed to work for you.” Trouble’s voice was starting to betray it’s shakiness, breath catching on her throat when Poodle leaned forward. “We had a deal.”

“The deal was to keep your sister fed and well trained.” Poodle’s green and blue eyes seemed sharper by each second. “Did you think we had resources to house any and all desperate Strays that come crawling? You know better than that. Or at least I thought you did.”

Run.

“You lied to me—“ Trouble hissed in outrage. “You—“

“Isn’t that what you always tell your fellow rats, love? You can never ever trust a Hound? Why are you even surprised?”

“How do you—“

“I have my ways. Eyes everywhere. Things need to stay in order after all.” She huffed, leaping down from the rock, claws disrupting the muddy soil. “Just like I’m about to find a way to let our dear pup that we miss him.” The look in her mismatched eyes was downright predatory, a simple and unmistakable threat paired with a low laugh that came before every execution. Trouble had only one word blasting through her head as she sprinted in the direction of the dirt road.

Run.

[yongbokkk]

by the waters, part 1

pairings: lee know x m!reader

genre: fluff, mermaid au

a/n: hi im back i think... my apologies

stray kids had been waiting forever for their vacation, so they decided to spend all their peaceful time on an island. not many people were touring and the water was still fresher than ever. not to mention, the nature here looked amazing.

the eight of them have already gone to their chosen rooms, beginning to unpack. minho went to the balcony to stare at the scenery, the ocean waves crashing into each other as the water sparkled.

jisung came up to him, "yah, i bet you there's a mermaid out there." he leaned on the glass fence, joining minho.

"mermaids? you're crazy." minho shook his head.

"can't be always wrong." the younger one lightly gasped, "how about you drown, and then a mermaid would come and save you!" he teased.

"you want me to die or something? it's so unlikely they exist, it's just a fairy tale." minho kept denying.

"hmm, okay, believe whatever you want ~" jisung waved him goodbye and went back inside the house.

the older sighed, before heading back in since it was getting late.

it was the morning, and minho went out for a long stroll outside on the island. the breeze was cold but very refreshing. this island was such a good pick for them.

the brunette found two stray cats, which was weird for them to be here. nonetheless, he fed and played with them for almost an hour.

it was a struggle for him to not scoop the kittens up and adopt them, he felt bad he had to leave the two cuties. minho eventually got bored and decided to go fishing, not the best, but he liked to try.

minho went by the waters with a fishing rod, he tied the hook on with the fish bait and threw it into the water.

After a few minutes of waiting, there was a huge tug on the string. he must've caught a big one, he'll definitely tell this to the members.

but as he was pulling it up, streams of crimson blood were found at the surface of the water. did the fish bleed that much?

he was wrong, it wasn't a fish he had caught.

minho's eyes widened as he pulled up a bleeding man, with fishtails for legs.

jisung was right, mermen and mermaids were real.

minho panicked, watching the person hiss at the hook painfully attached to his skin. he couldn't just sit there in shock, he needed to do something.

he quickly unwrapped the scarf that was on his neck, rushing to the merman. minho carefully took the hook out and wrapped the scarf around the boy's bleeding arm.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry..." minho kept apologizing for hurting the person, but all the merman did was stare at the human.

finally, he took the time to look at the merman, and boy, he was the most beautiful thing minho's eyes ever laid down on.

"it's okay, you didn't mean it. right?" the merman was unsure whether to trust the human or not.

"never in my life will i hurt anyone intentionally." he finished tying the scarf around the arm securely, "..are you fine with getting medical help?" he looked around, trying to see if he could find anyone.

"no! don't let them discover me!" the merman sounded scared and nervous. minho understood and dropped calling for help.

"how are we gonna patch that up, then?" he questioned, pointing at the deep wound underneath the cloth.

"the water helps me heal, it'll take a while but you don't have to worry." the h/c put a reassuring smile, which the dancer found ethereal.

"ah, alright." minho was still shocked that he had witnessed a real-life merman, he thought it was all a fairy tale. "do you have a name?"

"y/n, what about yours?" y/n's mesmerizing eyes sparkled in minho's view.

"minho." he smiled, wanting this moment to last forever.

"...promise you won't tell anyone about me?" y/n practically begged, making a stern and serious face.

"of course, i wouldn't tell the world."

minho kept his word and never told anyone about the encounter. when they asked about the missing scarf, he made the excuse of accidentally leaving it somewhere.

jisung wasn't that convinced, he couldn't have just left the scarf somewhere.

"i don't believe you, bet you left it in someone's bedroom." jisung smirked suggestively, making minho scrunch in disgust.

"no, i'm telling the truth." he rolled his eyes, returning back to cooking for the members.

"have you seen a mermaid yet?" jisung asked, catching minho off guard as he made a cut in his fingers with the knife.

"ow!" minho hissed. "l-like i said, mermaids don't exist." he said, causing jisung to sigh loudly.

after eating a delicious meal, all eight of them went to their bedrooms for slumber, except for minho.

his mind was stuck on a certain merman from earlier, he still couldn't believe there were actually living mer-creatures, and that he was lucky enough to meet one.

that next day, minho told the members that he'd be going for another walk again. they didn't care much but to wish him safe.

well, his heart had other intentions. he found himself sitting on the tough but comfortable rock, staring off at the far sea, waiting for y/n's arrival.

since it was unplanned, it was very unlikely for him to show up. so why did minho feel the need to come by?

he waited, and waited, to the point where the said 'walk' he told the other members was now considered a lie. minho slightly had his hopes up for the beautiful creature to pop up.

seeing as it has been almost an hour, he was bound to give up. minho stood up from his seat on the rock, but before he could turn away, the water sparkled.

he was there.

[goodday-goodmorn]

Rahhhh it’s Christmas and i’m back! Today’s feature (feature? Should i start calling them that? Sounds kinda cool-) is the amazing @charliemwrites, specifically a little drabble (unedited as always), based off of their Keeper/Kept AU. Not thier most recent stuff- (I think it’s Neighbor Johnny or the Woof Woof series-) You know what? Just- Here. Everything they write is gold <3

Anyhow, i present: Domesticity and Devotion

“Oh to be a wild bird…”

You sigh, chin in your palm as you leisurely stare out at the window.

“Or a stray cat.” You muse, watching as one of the kitties of the neighborhood walks along outside.

“Those fuckers have it good. No shitty job. No rent to pay. Just free pets and wandering the world… and if someone’s being a dick they can hiss and bite all they want.”

You hum, reaching for your drink and sipping on it leisurely.

“I don’t think I could survive in the wild though.”

You say after a moment, realizing how you’re cuddled up in your blanket and sipping on your wendy’s lemonade, the TV playing some random comfort show and your laptop open as you halfheartedly play Papa's freezeria.

“Can barley survive in domesticity.” You mumble, glancing towards the envelope on the kitchen counter that you got this morning about a rent increase.

You sigh.

“Maybe in my next life i’ll be lucky enough to be reborn as some rich white ladies cat. Those fuckers are livin’ better than me that’s for sure.”

————

This is not what you meant.

When you wistfully wished to never have to step foot into the capitalist hellscape that was life again- that was not an open invitation for you to be whisked away against your will.

Apparently though, the 6 foot giant of a military man named Simion Riley, heard it as one.

Because now here you were, pampered and cared for like a bloody sugar baby or pure breed persian cat. Kept at some random location and fed and groomed and meticulously attended too.

All against your will, mind you.

However it’s hard to complain because well- you’re living life good. This realization, of just how good you have it- hits you when you feel yourself getting genuinely angry at the shitty romance novel you were reading.

The Male lead was treating the MC like shit- and the MC was letting him get away with it!

You feel your face physically grimace. To calm yourself down (because you are getting genuinely heated when she lets him shove her to the damn floor over asking him for a drink-), you set your i-pad down.

(It had been a gift; something sort of like a kindle, where you could only read books and listen to music. You weren’t sure what Simon did to it exactly- but it wasn’t just published books you had access too, comics, original works, poetry, you could get all sorts of reading stuff on here.)

“This mother fucker-“

You mumble to yourself in disbelief, shaking your head before huffing and picking the device back up. You’re close to cheering as you read the MC’s internal dialogue about wanting to bite his ass- (Truely an MC after your own heart- they were one of the main reasons you were still reading this shitshow-)

And yet, what does the main character do?

They get the drink for themselves and then let him snatch it from their hand and down it.

Nope. You’re fucking done. You’re fumin’ now, irrationally angry on the MC’s behalf because they’ve been putting up with this guy for fifteen chapters now.

The audacity of men- oh my god. You can’t believe this guy.

“Who does he think he is?!”

You grumble and then just for your own purposes you yell—

“Simon!”

Predictably he is at your side in a moment, dropping everything for you.

You have your arms crossed, as you say, “Go get me a drink.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes crinkled just a tad at your strange mood but doesn’t deny the order. Simply asks,

“Cold or hot?”

“Cold.”

And with that he’s gone, returning with a fresh glass of ice cold lemonade, complete with a little lemon slice on the rim of the glass. You sip it, set it aside and cross your leg, tapping your forehead.

“Give me a kiss.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, gently kissing your forehead.

“Kneel.”

His eyes are crinkled now with a bit of amusement, but he drops to his knees easy. Gently holding onto your soft thighs. (Always so gentle with you.)

“Course, pretty.”

He mumbles low, head tilted up to you in a question, “Need me to take care of you?”

You hum, absentmindedly messing with his hair and ignoring the way the question sends a slow pool of warmth into your tummy.

“No.”

It’s decisive. You’re practically preening with satisfaction at his actions.

“You can go now.” You say and like that, he gets up. Not a complaint on his lips even when you notice he’s got a raging boner.

“Wait!”

You call and he pauses, looking at you with a questioning hum.

“Kiss me again.”

And he does so, this time a soft gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulls away he mumbles an ever softer-

“Dinner will be ready in 10.”

You nod and pick up your tablet with satisfaction curling low in your gut. (For the duration of your reading all you can think about is how Simion would never.)

————

“And another thing-!”

Simion is absentmindedly (as absentmindedly as Simion of all people can get anyway-) rubbing circles into your back as you rant. You’re sat in his lap, coaxed into sitting there after he asked about your day.

So obviously you started to babble about the book you were reading, which turned into a whole rant session about how stupid the Male lead was.

“That stupid idiot- that moron- you wanna know what he does simion?”

He knows it’s a rhetorical question. You’re gonna tell him anyway. Still he hums to show he’s still listening.

“This bastard shoves them into the ground. To the ground! Can you believe the it?”

He shakes his head lightly with a tsk.

“Exactly. God and then when they get the drink he has the audacity to snatch it from their hand and down it in one gulp before they can even say anything.”

You shake your head, so far into your little rant you don’t realize how much you’ve made yourself comfortable. Sitting in his lap fully, ranting to him like he’s an old friend. Your tongue is loose with comfort right now. And that must be what possessed you to say—

“Me personally? I could never. If you ever pulled that shit— God i don’t even know what i’d do but it would not be pretty

You close your eyes with a nod to yourself at your own words. Not aware of the way Simon’s eyes seem to soften. Not until he gently kisses the top of your head.

“Never.”

He says it so quietly you almost miss it. (Feverintly. Reverently. Like the very idea is absurd.)

“If i ever do something like that you run and break into my gun cabinet and bloody shoot me.”

And god his voice- he’s 100 percent fucking serious. Suddenly you feel warm and small in his lap, utterly tiny compared to the sheer size of his devotion for you.

It’s all you can do to mumble out a weak.

“Good.”

And the rest of the night is spent with you reading the rest of the book together. When the MC finally is able to get rid of the Male Lead, it is a joyous occasion that ends up with her absolutely clocking the guy in the face with a champagne glass. Which then leads into a curious conversation with you and ghost about how much damage that would actually do.

It’s a good day.

[eggcats]

Sometimes I think about how much inherent trust my cats have with me. Take my girl cat, for instance - she's my smallest, about 9lbs, and yet never once has she actually feared I would hurt her.

When I do things that scare her (put her in a carrier, take her to the vet, etc), she comes to ME for comfort after - even when I'm the one doing the scary thing to her! Because she trusts me not to hurt her. All my cats do!

When I had to bring her and her brother to a friend's house so my apartment complex could have someone over to do maintenance, BOTH of them were terrified even when I went to pick them up! She cried in fear and he hissed at me, but when we got back home within an hour they were on my lap.

They do bother me about food (especially when they can see the bottom of the bowl) but they've never actually been afraid of going hungry and starving - there's no anxiety about me refilling their bowl, just annoyance at having to tell me to do my job. (I can tell, my third boy was abandoned outside for a week before I got him, and it took him about a solid year to stop panicking when the bowls were empty - but mine have never known that so they've never reacted like he did.)

They trust me to provide them with a safe home to live, to keep them well-fed, and to never hurt them or betray the trust they have in me.

Anyway, that's why I don't believe in God because why would I give him the same trust my cats do for me without doing any of the work? God's never randomly picked me up to carry me around because I'm smaller than him and can, but my cats experience that daily. Why would I believe in him when I'm a better God to my cats than he is to me? If he wants my trust and belief he better step up his game.

[alaskan-wallflower]

for wretched but i’m thinking a lot about the curtis bros as babies lol

darry’s real easy. he doesn’t cry or anything. when he wants his mom’s attention he kinda meows? or does that sound baby lions do lol-he also squawks and coos a lot too. fun fact but cats purr when they want to be fed, so instead of crying he’d just toddle after her while purring and whining a little. he’s the only one of the three of them who’s bipedal, so they have an easier time teaching him to walk. mr curtis used to play with him too by hiding behind his wings and jumping out-darry loved it. when his dad first held him too he purred. i think that as a toddler he would scratch things to ‘mark’ them, and to file his nails, so they had to ween him off that lol-mrs curtis used to call him her ‘little cub’ and she’d sometimes just tickle his paws-y’know when you do that to a dog and they kick? that’s what he does. she sews him the cutest outfits ever too. he used to hate being picked up though lol-he’d claw at the air and just pout in Air Jail (thanks mr curtis…)

SODA OMG- okay so we know soda is a pegasus centaur? So baby horses can run from birth. So here’s Soda, an already loud and energetic baby, running around like a crackhead, flapping his wings and actually getting a few inches off the ground. mrs curtis had many heart attacks seeing baby soda hovering over her bed in the middle of the night. he makes happy neighing sounds a lot and whinnies-he cries a lot-like A LOT. Horses show their affection by licking and chewing so he’d just be licking his mom, his dad, darry (who hisses at him which only makes soda laugh 😭) and they also blow ‘air kisses’ so he would just blow in peoples faces and they never knew why-soda had to be on a literal leash because he’d run outside and scare everyone lmao

pony was a darling. he’s a peryton centaur so he’s got the snowy owl chest and the deer legs and he’s THE CUTEST. so many other wretched just beg to pet his chest and hair-you know when you scratch a kitten’s chest and they’ll try to gnaw at you before you let go and their paws go in the air? that’s pony. pony tries to bite everyone who tries to touch his feathers. he had the goofiest baby downy wings too like so. much. fluff. pony hates looking at his old baby pics cause he looked ‘ugly’ but he was genuinely the cutest baby. he also coos-he also licks everything he likes (deer do that) and deer wag their tails!! he also ‘sings’ (aka chirping) but when pony grows up he has the most beautiful singing voice (thanks to the bird parts)-he had SUCH a hard time walking 😭 mrs curtis would put him on the ground and he’d stumble before falling on his tummy and pouting-darry used to tease him

bonus but their parents taught them how to fly-mr curtis showed darry when he was like…eight or so and soda kinda learned on his own (flapping wings = flying! woah!) and pony was lucky enough to have the whole family showing him how to fly-he flies real high to watch the sun set. post book events he takes darry and soda above the clouds to watch a sunset

also also-darry, soda and pony preen each others wings

i love this au yall

[bluesgrxce]

Yandere Gavin Reed x Reader

I know he's not an android but I'm a Gavin Reed apologist (even though I recognize he's a piece of shit and that's shown here haha) and btw "Gavin Reed's cat" is a character tag I can add on Quotev and Ao3?? He doesn't even canonically have one??? But I like the headcanon and seeing that gave me the idea to write this, so yeah, thanks to that for inspiration :) 

The text notification sound nearly makes you jump off of the couch. The blanket wrapped around your body would've fallen off, too, if it hadn't been for the way it holds you tighter than you suffocate the sofa pillow in your gripping hug. Tear stains fade against the pillow's surface. 

Your phone flares to life against the dark living room of Gavin's apartment. It lays on the low coffee table before you, distracting you from the torturous sound of the TV's background noise. You had to leave it on a children's show, because every other channel displays some kind of ugly argument about the newfound freedom of androids. 

The phone's light extinguishes. You had hesitated too long. Realizing that makes you take a sharp breath and reach over to correct your mistake, just in case it's who you think it is. It's a mistake you can't afford to make right now. You read the text. 

Gavin: Gonna be home soon. You fed Bastard right? I forgot to this morning

Your fingers dig into the phone case like you want to tear it apart. Still, you text back a quick confirmation and prepare to throw your phone to the side. But you bite your lip and set it down on the cushion instead. When another notification sound pops you, you don't bother to look at the screen again, knowing it'll just be a thumbs-up emoji or something equally stupid. 

Your body aches as you sink back into the sofa. You definitely left left a deep indent on the furniture by now, but there's no point in getting up. You know there's nothing worth doing in this dim apartment, and yet, your bored mind scans the room anyway. Your gaze lands on the loveseat positioned away from the sofa.

A cat lays on it. Her collar jingles as she digs her claws into the cushion beneath her. Various scars are scattered around it. Even if a stranger saw the seat without her on it, they would be able to tell where her favorite spot is. Her nametag shines against the light of the TV; Bastard. 

You used to laugh whenever you heard her name, but now it only makes you roll your eyes. It's just so like Gavin to give his beloved pet a vulgar name. It's just so like him to keep a pet that is so very clearly his, with her dark brown fur that's reminiscent of his hair, and her arrogant stance that makes you feel like you're not even part of her little world. But... at the very least, she looks much softer and warmer than the pillow you've been clinging onto for the past few hours. 

Memories of her viscious hisses and destructive actions tell you that you're stupid for even considering it, but she might brighten your day a bit, and that potential is good enough foe you. 

You jump off the sofa and head towards the corner of the living room, where a cat tree tower looms over you. Just one of many gifts you never saw her touch. Gavin likes to tell you that she uses it all the time, just never when you're around. 

You bought it for her over a year ago. You thought for sure that she would've warmed up to you by now, but even when you grab the mouse toy that hangs off of it, she narrows her eyes at you. 

You take your time as you approach her. You hang the toy over her head, which makes her eyes soften and her body sit up. You smile. The first smile of the day even though it's now dark outside.

She follows the toy's every move. You begin to laugh as she tries to stand up and reach it. You crouch down, letting her snatch it between her paws.

With that same smile, you lean over to grab--

She slashes her claws. You gasp and flinch away, holding your arm against your chest. Blood leaks from a long cut on the side of your lower arm. Her hiss only makes the pain sear. She steals the toy in her mouth before running off deeper into apartment, where it's untouched by light. 

You speed towards the kitchen and flip the lights on. You find the first-aid kit in the cabinets and throw the bandages on the counter. After turning the sink on, a torrent of water hits your wound and drowns the blood in the drain, just as your thoughts do-- Of course she would do this. She never wants to play. Why do you keep wasting time on her? Why do you keep being so dumb? Why are you such an idiot? 

You press down on your wound. A whimper breaks out of your throat, but you don't stop. It's not to stop the bleeding, but to make your inner voice shut up. 

And yet, you can't block out the truth that's now pouring into your bloodstream, through the cut that forced you open. No matter what you do, you'll never truly have a good relationship with this cat. You can try all you want, but even if you find something that feels like it works, it won't be long until she lashes out again. 

Your eyes dart back to your phone for a second. She's not the only one who treats you this way. 

That thought sticks in your head above all else. You turn off the sink and gaze at your arm. The bleeding has passed and the blood's gone down the drain. Another question arises-- Why do you bother staying in a place that'll just make you unhappy?

Almost as if you had been waiting for this moment subconsciously, a list of excuses sound off. Gavin won't let you leave him so easily. Even if you left right now, you'd be leaving a lot of things behind. Building a new life without him isn't something you can even imagine right now. The worst part is that all those excuses are true. You try to come up with arguments against them... until you hear the sound of the front door opening. 

Your injury suddenly feels much worse than before. You rush around in search of the bandages you left. The call of your name makes you freeze. 

Gavin strides through the entrance hallway, ready to say something, but he stops when he sees you staring back at him like a deer in headlights. He squints his eyes in confusion. "The hell's up with you?"

You stumble over your words for the next few seconds. He playfully scoffs as he approaches. You can't flee before he snatches your shoulder and crashes his lips against yours. It takes too long for him to pull away, just like it always does. 

"I had a great day, thanks for asking." A light-hearted chuckle accompanies his sarcasm. His hand shifts from your shoulder to your waist. "The plastic prick wasn't at the station today. Hank said something about Sumo having to go to the vet, so he let the android have the day off. Can you believe that?"

He laughs until you say, "Why couldn't I?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot, you're an android fucker," He laughs again, but with a much snarkier tone. "You think it's okay for them to be able to take breaks, while I gotta bust my ass all the time, and they don't even get tired."

"It's not really taking a break if he's taking his dog to the vet."

"Hank's dog, and look, lets not get into this shit the moment I get home." Now both of his hands land on you, and it makes you tense. He brings his face closer. His whole body seems to trap yours into a corner. "After all, I've been waiting all day to see you..." 

You slap his hands off. "Do you seriously think I wanna be around you after what you did this morning?"

His eyebrows furrow and he stares at you. It goes on long enough that it feels like he actually forgot about it, and the mere idea of that makes your teeth grind.

Right as you open your mouth to remind him, he sighs. He pinches his nose in exasperation. "Fuck, I didn't think you'd still be mad about that."

"What?" Your eyes shoot open wide. "You threatened to throw my phone off the roof!"

"I was joking, obviously!" He threw his hands up.

"Joking? You were yelling at me! You tore it out of my hands and waved it around like you were gonna throw it at me any moment! You told me you'd never let me visit you at work again!" 

He bares his teeth, letting his hands fall back against his sides with a loud sound, and he tries to speak. But you cut him off. "And it was all for nothing! Connor wasn't even there, like you said, so all that did nothing."

"But I bet you still texted him while I was gone, right?" His bared teeth twist into a grin, though you can see twinges of pain laced within it. "Maybe even invited him over and had some fun? Bet you kept playing me for a fucking fool--" 

"No, I didn't, because you made me block him, and..." You gasp for desperate breath, before forcing your wounded arm into his face. "I was too busy taking care of your cat, who did this to me!"

His jaw slacks. It's almost as if you can feel his surprise pour into you as his eyes peer through your injury. Then, after a short pause, he lets out a slurred swear and tugs your arm forward. 

You try to pull out of his grasp. He takes the bandages you left behind and yells, "Stop being difficult, damn it!" 

Gavin traps you against the counter as he dresses your wound. He concentrates entirely on your arm and keeps a strong grip on it so you can't struggle away. Frustration teems your whole body, but there's nothing you can do in this position, so you stay silent. His eyes occasionally sneak glances at you, and with each time he eases into a smirk. 

After the finishing touch, he rests your arm back to your side, but he never lets go. "You realize now why I named her Bastard?"

"I realized why a long time ago."

"Yeah. She was the one who gave me this." He points to the faded scar across his nose. "Heh, she probably meant to aim for your face instead. Wanted to give us matching scars."

He still smirks like he expects you to laugh. When you only give him a glare, he returns it with greater intensity. 

"You're looking at me like I'm the asshole, but you're the one who was talking to someone else behind my back, to a--" He grunts. "A thing you know I hate. You think I don't have a damn good reason to be mad at you?"

"I only hid it from you because I knew you'd get like this again. You never listen when you're mad. You just start yelling. You always, always yell at me..."

You have to pause for a moment. Is he even listening now? His eyes fixate on you, but his hard expression makes it difficult to know if your words reach him. Still, you continue. "I can never explain myself to you. I swore so many times that he's just my friend, but you never believe me!"

"Oh, so now you want me to believe you?" He speaks like he's bewildered. "I asked you this morning if you still loved me... If you still loved me over that thing... and what did you say?"

You stare back at him. 

"That's right. You didn't say shit." He attempts another grin, but it crumbles and collapses the moment he tries. He opens his mouth to say more, but it clamps shut when pain flashes across his eyes. 

Before you can even process that glimpse of vulnerability, he pulls you into his chest. In a strained tone, he says, "I'm not losing you to a goddamn android. Get that into your head so I don't gotta knock it into you somehow."

He squeezes your wrist one last time before finally releasing. You hold that same wrist and step away. The urge to say something gnaws at your tongue, but there's nothing you can say after what he just said. 

"I'm gonna go take a shower. Think of what we're gonna have for dinner while I'm gone, okay?" Even though his voice sounds softer than it's ever been, it leaves prickles on your skin. They roll back and forth with each heavy footstep he takes down the hallway. When he slams the bathroom door shut, they pierce through you. 

You stare down that hallway with an empty look. It feels like the bandage constricts around your arm, cutting off your blood flow, like Gavin is still holding onto you even after he left the room. You'll never be comfortable if you leave it on.

You'll never be comfortable if you stay here. 

So you won't. You speed around the apartment to gather some of your things that you left laying around (you can't grab everything; it's been so long since you've left this place, and remembering that makes you grimace) before heading towards the entrance. For a while, it's like nothing can stop your rampage. 

But you freeze when you reach the front door. 

Bastard cements herself on the doormat with her back pressed against the door. She leers at you like she thinks she's a tiger. As she sinks her claws into her mouse toy, its stuffing leaks out. 

Just looking at it makes you wince and hold onto your injured arm. She doesn't stop tearing the toy up even once it's limp, and it makes you wonder how many other toys have held the same fate: one of many honest attempts from you to get on her good side, only for it to end up in the trash, and replaced by you just to begin the cycle again. It's a waste of money... and love. 

Just being here is a waste, but... You shake your head as you watch Bastard crush the toy underneath her chest. What's going to happen if you try to leave like this?

You already know. There will only be yelling, and blaming, and threats. Potentially, not-so-empty ones. But you'll have to deal with that regardless if you stay or not-- As long as Gavin is in your life, that's all there will ever be. So why not at least choose the option where you might get away?

Your heart races, but you reach over to open the door anyway. Bastard hisses and gets up to strike. You step outside without another look back. 

× × ×

I probably won't make a sequel but you most likely get kidnapped after this lol just so you know :P don't get too happy :]

[bodhranwriting]

Finn and the Arsonist by Bodh M.

In three years of running the only cat sanctuary in Middle Besser, I’ve heard a lot of their odd tales about how they ended up here.

Getting into fights is a common one. Getting trapped in wells happens more often that you’d think. Inattentive families, owners needing the space… the list goes on. I try not to judge people’s situations too harshly. After all, my main witness is going to be a little biased and cat-senses don’t always translate well to human, as you’d expect. But there are definitely pickups I’ve done that have made my blood boil, if you don’t mind me saying.

But I’ve never had one before that made me scared and certainly never had one involving one of my closest friends.

It was a stinking hot day in the middle of summer when a small child barged open the door to the Respite with a terrified cat yowling at a pitch to match the temple bells.

I had been dozing at the counter, sweat sticking my sandy curls to my forehead and a new bandage wrapped around my arm – one kitten had not wanted to take her medicine – so I damn well fell out of my chair as a screaming feline was dumped a fingerbreadth from my face.

“I found them in Gert’s Alley,” the girl said helpfully, in lieu of greeting. She was probably nine or ten; a scruffy little thing in a faded blue dress with adorable tight black coils and a missing tooth so her next words came out as a lisp, “He theemed thercared. Look at all the blood!”

Dragging myself up from floor and trying to wipe the sleep from my eyes, I blearily focused on my newest patient. She (and definitely she, I noted as she wriggled out of the blanket) was a gorgeous black Kysi with golden eyes and the huge ears typical to her breed. As she backed up, hissing, I reached out a hand and concentrated, drawing up warm reserves of the little magic I had from my chest and into my throat.

Translation spells, in my experience anyway, always had a taste. I’d never been particularly good at them: it was almost easier to just do the hard work and learn the language. But translating my tongue to that of cats was like clicking your fingers might be to someone else. Easy. Not requiring much thought at all.

Cat tastes like buttermilk. I don’t know why, but there seems to be a connection to what I taste and what I’m trying to speak. Bee tastes, almost boringly, of honey. Spider has a dusty texture. Rat, for some odd reason, is hazelnut. I haven’t worked out that one and neither had the teachers out in the Hartland’s. I think one of my classmates who fell into the academic trap – track, sorry – is compiling research on it.

(I answered her very impersonal letter a few months ago and never heard back. Hope I helped. She did bully me into passing my star-reading exam, after all.)

I took a breath, the flavour rising into my nose, and attempted first contact. “Easy there… I’m not gonna hurt you… what’s your name…?”

The cat hissed again, but only for show because she answered quickly, “Smells-like-this. But upright call me Smoke.”

“I’m Finn,” I said, almost more for the benefit of the still-watching urchin. I projected an imitation of my scent into her mind: a kind of mix of cat fur, woodsmoke, and lye soap, and asked, “May I touch you? I need to find where you’re bleeding.”

Smoke hesitated and then lay down. “Yes.”

Carefully, I reached forwards, letting her sniff my hand. “Could you get me a bucket from the pump?” I asked the girl.

She nodded with great dignity and vanished outside. I turned my attention back to Smoke. It was funny: she was far better fed than a stray ought to be –

“Know your smell, upright.”

I jumped. Swallowing hard, I managed to keep the connection strong enough to ask, “You… do?”

Smoke curled up under my hand. “It was on take-off furs. And blood not mine.”

Ice settled in my stomach, cold fingers squeezing my guts paper-thin. “Whose is it…?”

Her tail thrashed, ears flattening against her head. “My upright.” The flash of fangs made me jerk my hand away. I was panting and I didn’t know why.

“What happened?”

Smoke sat up again, fixing shining golden eyes on me. She raised her head like a queen, crossing one paw in front of the other.

“Uprights invade territory. Smash door. I fight. Upright feeder does too. I run when they lay red flower.”

“Red flow…” Suddenly, the buttermilk soured to smoke and ash as my mind made the necessary translation. Terror thumped through my chest. “They burnt the house?”

I grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck as she bolted from my shout. She tried to claw at me, but I didn’t even feel it. “What does your upright look like, Smoke?”

“Put down!”

“Please, tell me. What do they look like?”

“Upright! Smell like this! Not white-yellow fur like you. White-orange fur! Cloud eye! Make pretty noise a lot!” She meowed as I dropped her, landing perfectly on the table as I fell into my chair.

“Gert’s Alley… that’s where you were found?”

Smoke leapt to the ground and gave me the feline equivalent of a shrug.

I was up and running down the street before I even realised I’d processed the information.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Click My Heels But I Am Stuck Here - Chapter Two

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Work Summary:

Rolan is battered, beaten and exhausted. After everything he’s been through to get to Baldur’s Gate, he still has no reprieve from violence and prejudice.

But wouldn’t it just be so sweet to fuck his master’s pretty little wife?

AU where Tav is Lorroakan’s wife.

Chapter Summary:

Tav and Rolan finally have an actual conversation.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Epilogue

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2766

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

On top of the usual Lorroakan warnings, warning for animal abuse in this chapter (animal isn't injured but is mistreated)

---

Rolan tried to keep his distance from Tavya. Both her beauty and his hatred for her were potentially dangerous, and an unneeded distraction.

Back in Elturel, he wouldn’t have looked twice at a woman like her; mostly because women like her never looked twice at him, except perhaps in disgust at his hell-touched features.

But here, he was forced to see her daily, be in proximity to her, sometimes stand close enough to smell her perfume.

He couldn’t afford to get distracted. Lorroakan was as a mercurial as he was powerful, and if Rolan was ever going to prove himself to him, he needed to be spending all of his time studying (except for when he was manning the shop floor or doing errands for his master, of course).

Rolan wasn’t the only denizen of the tower to have drawn Lorroakan’s ire. Lorroakan despised Myshka, the cat that his wife had rescued from the streets of the lower city. He wouldn’t harm the creature in front of his wife, but when she wasn’t around, it was a different story.

Rolan was dusting shelves in the library when he heard his master enter. He was hidden between the stacks, so he waited to try and hear what kind of mood Lorroakan was in before announcing himself. It became evident very quickly.

“What are you doing in here, you little shit?” Lorroakan hissed, and Rolan jumped, excuses on his tongue.

There was a loud meow, and he realised that his master hadn’t been talking to him.

“Stay still. I thought I told you to stay out of here. I swear to- Ow!”

Unable to help himself, Rolan crept up to the edge of the bookcase and peered around it. Thankfully, Lorroakan was facing the other direction. He was trying to pick Myshka up by his tail.

Rolan winced. Instinctively, his own tail curled around himself. The cat evidently felt just as unhappy about it as he did, because he lashed out, scratching Lorroakan’s arm. His master let out a howl of pain and released the cat, who sprinted off, deeper into the library.

“You little- IGNIS!”

Rolan gasped, and then covered his mouth to muffle the sound as Lorroakan cast a firebolt at the cat. Thankfully, Myshka was fast enough to avoid the spell, leaving Lorroakan behind, cursing and cradling his injured arm.

Throwing around fire spells in his own library seemed like a poor choice to Rolan, but who was he to question his master’s wisdom? The books were probably enchanted with protection magic anyway.

Rolan stepped back into the shadows. It was something he’d been getting good at lately. If Lorroakan couldn’t see him, he couldn’t hit him. He stayed still and quiet, until he heard his master stomping back out of the room.

Finally, he managed to exhale. He stepped out from behind the shelves and looked around. The coast was clear.

In spite of everything, he felt for the cat. Tavya had (probably unknowingly) condemned him to a far worse life that living on the streets.

Although, he supposed he couldn’t be sure that was true. For all he knew, people on the streets would throw all kinds of spells at Myshka or try to grab him by the tail. At least in Ramazith’s tower, he was fed well and had a warm, dry place to sleep.

Rolan tried not to think about the similarities between his situation and Myshka’s. Where would he end up if Lorroakan decided he no longer had use for him? Would Tavya take pity on him the same way she had Myshka? Would she beg her husband to let him stay?

Unbidden, the image of his master’s wife feeding him treats from the palm of her hand and stroking his hair flashed across his mind, and he felt his cheeks heat up. He was not a cat.

Flushed and embarrassed, he moved further into the library, in the same direction as Myshka had gone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of jerky, wrapped in paper and tied up with string. He had meant it for a mid-afternoon snack – with Lorroakan’s moods, it was always a good idea to keep food on hand, in case he ordered Rolan to go to his room without supper – but he wasn’t hungry right now.

“Myshka?” he called out softly. “Myshka?” He felt a little foolish, calling out to a cat, but after a moment, he noticed a pair of bright blue eyes staring out at him from the dark.

The cat may have been able to hide from Lorroakan in the darkness, but Rolan was a tiefling, gifted with the ability to see in the dark.

He squatted down and held out a piece of jerky. “Come out, Myshka. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The cat was eyeing him suspiciously. This would be easier if Rolan had a potion of animal speaking, but as far as he knew, there weren’t any in the tower, and he wasn’t about to spend what precious little gold he had buying it from Sorcerous Sundries. Animal speaking was one of the few spells that Tavya knew, and she cast it daily, while Lorroakan didn’t see any point in it.

So Rolan had to just wait. He knelt down, holding his hand out. The seconds stretched into minutes, but eventually, Myshka emerged from the shadows. He stayed still and allowed the cat to sniff him. He’d heard that that was how some animals established trust.

Evidently satisfied with Rolan’s scent, Myshka took the jerky from Rolan’s hand and sprinted back into the shadows.

That was fine. Rolan still had cleaning to do. He continued his way around the shelves, dusting the books as he went. It was something that he was sure a lot of wizards would use Unseen Servant for, but Lorroakan expected him to do it by hand, and he wouldn’t disappoint him.

He had just started sweeping the floor when a shape in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Myshka was sitting on the arm of one of the reading chairs, watching Rolan intently. Rolan stopped cleaning to watch the cat back.

At this attention, Myshka hopped down and approached cautiously. Rolan stayed very still, watching the little cat. Myshka headbutted his leg lightly, and then nuzzled him. Rolan pulled out another piece of jerky and fed it to him. This time, he didn’t run away with it. He ate it right next to Rolan, still watching him as he began sweeping again.

Myshka was purring now. He nuzzled Rolan’s leg again. Rolan leant down and stroked Myshka’s head, which earnt him a loud purr. Against all odds, Rolan found himself smiling.

*

In spite of himself, Rolan was grateful for Myshka. He’d never considered himself an animal person, but Ramazith’s tower could be a pretty lonely place, so the company was welcome.

He avoided Lorroakan as much as he could. He had found himself on the wrong side of his tempestuous moods far too many times. He deliberately kept his distance from Tavya to avoid inflaming her husband’s temper, and she seemed perfectly happy to ignore him too.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t always possible to stay out of his master’s way. Every mispronounced word or fumbled spell was taken as disrespect, and he had the scars to prove it.

Today he had foolishly thought himself safe. Lorroakan had seemed in a good mood, even complimenting Rolan’s somatic form on a spell he was casting.

He had no idea what had changed in the last twenty minutes, but Rolan was sweeping the floor of the library when he felt something collide with the back of his head.

He went down like a sack of potatoes, stunned at the sudden searing pain in his head. His ears were ringing. Lorroakan dropped the item he’d hit him with – a book, as it turned out – and started kicking him.

“Stupid boy,” his master snarled, aiming a kick for Rolan’s ribs. They seemed be a favourite punching bag of his. Rolan closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain.

He had squirrelled away a few healing potions in his room. He just had to survive this, and make it back to his room, and everything would be okay.

“Lorroakan, darling?” Tayva’s soft, melodic voice echoed out over the room, and the beating ceased at once. Rolan slumped forward, his face hitting the ground. He could taste blood, and couldn’t tell if he’d bitten his tongue, or if there was something more serious wrong with him.

“Yes, my dear?” called out Lorroakan, sudden sweetness that seemed a parody of itself, when contrasted with the way he’d just been behaving.

“I’ve been trying out this new composition but I can’t seem to get it to sound right. Could you help me? I know you’re not a musician but you do have such a good ear, and refined tastes.”

Tavya was a musician. Rolan had heard her practising sometimes. She was very talented. Far too talented to be confined within the walls of Ramazith’s tower, in Rolan’s opinion, but she seemed content with it.

Lorroakan was most certainly not a musician. Rolan doubted he had a clue what Tavya was talking about, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was distracted.

“Yes, of course, coming,” he said. He didn’t spare Rolan a second glance as he walked off.

Rolan cracked open his eye, looking up at the balcony where Tavya was standing. She was holding her violin in one hand, the bow in the other, and she was frowning down at him. He had never known what she’d thought of Lorroakan’s brutality before this point, but it seemed safe to say that she didn’t approve.

As Lorroakan approached her, her frown faded into a smile. “Upstairs?” she asked, and Lorroakan nodded, following her.

As soon as they were gone, Rolan started the arduous task of getting back on his feet. His head was pounding. He crawled over to the nearest bookcase and braced himself against one of the shelves.

Perhaps he needed to start carrying healing potions on his person. Of course, if Lorroakan found them, he would hit the roof, so perhaps not.

The walk from the library to his bedroom had never felt longer. He clutched himself, one hand on the wall so that he didn’t keel over.

He stopped abruptly when he reached his bedroom door and found it propped open. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Had Lorroakan been through his things? Had he found his healing potions? His journal?

It would certainly explain his sudden change in mood, but then, there didn’t need to be an explanation. Lorroakan’s moods were always changeable.

Rolan stepped into the room. Myshka had made himself at home on Rolan’s mattress, sprawled out on top of the covers. On top of Rolan’s chest of drawers was a potion of greater healing. That brought him up short.

Lorroakan certainly wouldn’t have given him a healing potion. Unless it was poisoned? But no, poison wasn’t his master’s style. He was a brute, and if he was going to kill Rolan, it would be with his own two hands, or with an errant spell. There was only one other person who could’ve left the potion here.

Rolan shut the door behind him. Too sore for caution, he picked up the bottle, uncorked it, and took a long swig.

The effect was immediate. The pounding in his head faded at once, and the bruising across his ribs receded. Bolstered by this, Rolan drained the rest of the bottle.

Nothing else seemed out of place. His journal was still where he’d left it, tucked under the mattress. He opened the bottom drawer, where he’d been hiding his healing potions, as well as the empty bottles he hadn’t had a chance to dispose of yet.

All of the empty bottles were gone, replaced with full ones. This had to be Tavya’s work. His heart was thundering in his chest, in a way that made him feel slightly nauseous. He hated to be in anyone’s debt. If Tavya had done this for him, then he owed her in ways that he suspected he could never pay back. Not any time soon, anyway.

Still, it was hard to be upset about it when, just minutes ago, he felt as though his head was going to explode.

He sat down heavily on his mattress. Myshka raised his head, but made no efforts to move. Rolan stretched out and stroked the cat behind his ears. Myshka let out a deep, rumbling purr and leant into his touch.

*

At the very least, Rolan knew he owed Tavya a thank you. It was hard to find the opportunity. Lorroakan always seemed to around, and if he saw Rolan approaching his wife, it seemed doubtful that that would end well.

So he bided his time. One evening, Lorroakan went to bathe before dinner, and Rolan seized his chance.

Tavya was in the kitchen when Rolan slipped in. She didn’t see him at first. Her lips were turned downwards into a frown, and her brow was furrowed as she stirred what looked to be a very large pot of stew.

He cleared his throat and she whipped around. When she realised who it was, she put her hand on her chest, exhaling.

“You scared me,” she said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright. Are you hungry?”

As a matter of fact, he was. The combination of working the shop floor and practising his magic left him famished most evenings.

“I am rather, yes.”

“Here.” She ladled a generous portion of the stew into a bowl and handed it to him. “The bread is fresh from the oven. Help yourself.”

There was a crusty loaf on a breadboard on the counter. It had a slice missing, so he presumed she’d already sampled some herself. He cut himself a slice. It was warm, and came apart easily.

“This smells delicious, Lady Tavya,” he said, settling down at the small table dining table. It was nothing like the grand one in the dining room, but it was where he usually ate.

She grimaced, and then glanced around, as if worried that Lorroakan might hear. “You can call me Tav, you know. When it’s just us, I mean. Lorroakan wouldn’t like it, but I hate this ‘Lady Tavya’ stuff.”

“Tav,” he said, trying the name out. It rather suited her, he thought. “Thank you.”

“Lorroakan has guests this evening, which is why I’m serving you early. I think he’d prefer if you made yourself scarce.”

“Are you dining with him?”

She grimaced. “I am. You haven’t seen Myshka, have you? Lorroakan doesn’t like him wandering around, but I haven’t seen him all afternoon.”

“He was napping. In my bedroom. I think.” Rolan cleared his throat awkwardly. Since the first time Myshka had found his way into Rolan’s room, he had started leaving the door propped open to allow the cat entrance at will. He thought that perhaps Myshka wanted to escape Lorroakan as much as he did.

“Ah,” said Tav. “That’s good.” She took the stew off the heat and turned to face him fully. She seemed almost nervous. “Can I ask you a favour, Rolan?”

His heart leapt. “Anything.”

“If you see Myshka, could you make sure he doesn’t go into the main dining room? Maybe keep him in your room for a bit? Just until dinner is over?”

“Of course.”

She sighed. “Thank you.” She pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. Rolan bit his lip. She really was exceptionally pretty. “I should go and wash up before dinner. I need to look… well… presentable.”

“You always look presentable,” he said, and immediately regretted it when she looked up at him, surprised.

“Thank you,” she said. “But I’m being held to rather a higher standard tonight. The lady of the house has to look beautiful and impressive.”

He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying that she was beautiful right now. Instead he said, “Tav, before you go…”

“Yes?” She was untying the strings of her apron.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For the other day. With the potions.”

“Oh.” Tav’s cheeks looked a little pink. “Well.”

“And you distracted Lorroakan. So. I owe you one. Really.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said softly. “Enjoy your meal. Good evening, Rolan.”

Before he could say anything else, she walked out of the kitchen. He watched her leave, feeling forlorn.  

Next Chapter

[tasha-writes]

A Stitch in Time - Part 4

Yes this fic is still progressing, I just may or may not have been forgetting to post here instead of ao3, whoopsie.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Alicent grimaced Sunfyre skittered over her lap. The dragon was approximately the size of a cat, but his tiny talons were sharp as knives. Currently, the young dragon was playing fetch of all things with Aegon. Helaena watched attentively from her cradle, the closest she ever got to matching Aegon’s claps and giggles. Aegon had his tempers as a child to be sure, but overall, he had been such a lovely baby. How did that turn into the drunkard rapist in her dream? Her other life? Two days of mulling it over and she still couldn’t be sure. 

She did, however, remember the source of her antipathy towards Rhaenyra and found herself angry all over again. Whether it be months or years of separation from the event, Alicent still found her temper boiling at the lie Rhaenyra had fed her. Their years of friendship apparently meaning nothing. Had Rhaenyra told the truth, Alicent would have protected her. Wouldn’t she? She was almost sure that she would. It was the lie that hurt the most. 

The door to the nursery banged open, throwing Helaena into one of her screaming fits immediately. The screaming infant sent the tiny dragon barreling into the wobbling toddler that was Aegon and knocking him over, sending him into a kicking and screaming tantrum himself. Alicent almost felt bad for the little gold dragon who was now being squeezed for comfort. “You dismissed Ser Criston!” Alicent suddenly felt like screaming and crying in unison with her children. 

Instead, she went to Helaena in an attempt to comfort the ever-crying infant. “Rhaenyra,” 

“What did he tell you?” Alicent sighed. She wondered if Rhaenyra knew she was incriminating herself, although Alicent already knew the truth.

“I will speak plainly, stepdaughter,” Rhaenyra scoffed, “He bloodied his white cloak with your maidenhead, for that alone I should have dismissed him immediately. And then his unsightly behavior at your wedding,” Alicent shook her head, “disgraceful.” Not to mention what Criston did with Alicent years down the line. “Close the door Rhaenyra, and - Aegon for the love of - Rhaenyra could you possibly rescue that poor lizard?” 

Rhaenyra stalked over to her brother and gently pried Sunfyre out of his grubby little hands. “Careful Aegon, kesā ossēnagon se mijegindita run. Se pār skoriot kessa ao sagon?” Alicent frowned over her shoulder at the two siblings, what could Rhaenyra have possibly said to him. ‘Careful’ had been in common tongue, careful what? Careful of your grandfather who would have you usurp me? Careful of your mother that would let him? “Alicent, you’re practically shaking poor Helaena.” Rhaenyra’s angry face was a sharp contrast to her kindly intentioned words. 

“Thank you, Rhaenyra, but I do not need instructions on how to care for mine own children,” Alicent snapped. Rhaenyra just rolled her eyes in response and sat to pet Sunfyre. 

“He confessed his sin, didn’t he. Before the welcome feast?” Rhaenyra asked after the dragon had finally decided he’d had enough and skittered off towards the fireplace. It was infuriating how astute this younger version of the princess could be when she wasn’t so busy being angry at the world. 

“You lied to me, Rhaenyra.” Alicent accused harshly. “You swore to me, on your mother, that you maintained your maidenhood,” Alicent turned towards the window, refusing to let the princess see the tears that threatened to spill. Helaena continued to cry, Alicent bounced her harder. 

“Is this truly what this whole feud has been about?” Rhaeynra scoffed, “I didn’t lie to you Alicent. I swore that Daemon had not touched me, and it is true I did not sully myself on his cock,” Alicent flinched “I never swore that I remained a maiden.” 

“That language is not suitable of a lady, much less a princess,” Alicent hissed, “Do try not to be such an influence on my son.” 

“Apologies, your Grace,” Rhaenyra spit out sarcastically, “I shall endeavor to control my mouth.”

“See that you do,” Alicent said coldly. 

“As you should endeavor to control yours about my lord husband.” Rhaenyra’s demanded, a fiery temper against Alicent’s icy one. The tension was thick enough that you could cut it with a knife, and there was something oddly comforting in that. This was what she was used to. The anger, the resentment. The back and forth of the year between Aegon’s second and third name day had been stressful. Alicent constantly felt as if she had been on eggshells. 

“It is an open secret,” Alicent scoffed, “the whole of court knows, and duly ignores it. I find I cannot do the same,” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. “Do you think that he will be able to provide you an heir? Any children you have will likely be of dubious parentage at best.” 

“Laenor and I will perform our duty to the realm.” It was almost cute how Rhaenyra actually believed that. 

“Do not act naive Rhaenyra, it does not suit you,” Alicent chided. 

“And what would you have me do?” Rhaenyra snapped, “Have no children at all? Ensure that it is Aegon and his descendants who sit the throne after me?” 

Alicent took a moment to consider courses of action and their various political insinuations. In truth, she had never imagined she would be in the position to advise, although in anger, Rhaenyra’s situation. “Lord Corlys certainly knows his son's preferences, as we all do. Annul the marriage, promise your heir to one of Laena’s children.” A clean solution that allowed for the Lord of the Tides to actually put his blood on the Iron throne, however many generations removed. 

“And how do you suggest I provide this heir?” Rhaenyra sneered, “Shall impregnate myself perhaps?”

And now for the piece de resistance, a sure-fire way for her father’s scheming to come to an end, “We joked about when we were supposed to lunch together, before you stormed off, “Alicent took a breath to steady herself, “Marry my brother. Marry Gwayne.”

Alicent’s suggestion was met with absolute silence, even the children had quieted, Helaena’s sobs having faded into hiccups. The minutes ticked by and Rhaenyra’s face had dropped into a carefully neutral expression. Was she considering Alicents offer, or just how best to say no? Alicent couldn’t blame Rhaenyra if she did, perhaps one of Otto Hightower’s children marrying into the family was more than enough. 

“What would you have done if I had told you the truth?” Rhaenyra asked quietly. “About Ser Cole?”

Why in the name of the Gods were they circling back to this? Alicent shrugged, “I would have honored your trust in me and kept our friendship, I would have acted accordingly with that.” With Helaena finally calmed down, Alicent deemed it safe to place the child in her crib and give herself a break. 

 “I should still like us to be on good terms, But it is hard when you do not trust me and have endeavored to commit sins that have damaged my trust in you as well.” 

“What has brought this on Alicent?” Rhaenyra asked. Almost as if to answer for the queen, Aegon crawled upon his elder sister's lap and started playing with the long strands that fell in front of her shoulders. 

“In truth, I fear for my children. I do not wish for them to be caught in the crossfire of our anger. Nor your children, once you bear them,” Rhaenyra grimaced at the reminder of bearing heirs. “And I am lonely,” Alicent admitted, “something that I have admitted to you previously, when Daemon returned from the Stepstones.” 

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, “We have both hurt and been hurt by half truths. Perhaps we could both endeavor to open our hearts more fully to each other.” Alicent resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the thinly veiled attack. The princess, it seemed, was still upset about Alicent’s marriage to Viserys. 

“I suppose we could,” Alicent allowed. 

“Ser Criston asked me to run away with him.” Alicents gaze shot towards the princess. Rhaenyra was looking down at the prince in her lap. “I said no, of course. My duty lies here, in the keep. He wasn’t satisfied with being my whore as he called it. And that was that.” 

Alicent wasn’t exactly sure what to say to that. She had wondered why Ser Criston had seemed so upset with Rhaenyra. “Thank you,” Alicent sighed, despite every instinct telling her otherwise, she knew she should meet Rhaenyra’s truth with one of her own. “I didn’t set out to marry your father or keep it from you. My father strongly suggested I visit him, provide solace in the aftermath of your mother’s death. Your father asked me not to tell you, I should have regardless.” It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was close as Alicent felt comfortable getting. 

Rhaenyra gently lifted Aegon from her lap and stood, crossed the room and took Alicent’s bloody and bitten hands her own calloused ones, “Thank you, Alicent.

The high valyrian means "Careful Aegon, Careful aegon, you will kill and poor thing. And then where will you be?"

I didn't want to translate in the chapter because it felt like it would take away from the pov being limited to Alicent

[that-basic-simp]

Serenity

Minthara X GN! Reader (No indication of pronouns/private parts) CW: Trauma WC: 3.0k

She has never known a day of peace in her life, as far as what she has told me. From what she has spoken about and from what I have seen with her, she is trying to break free of these chains holding her back. But she does not want to lose faith in the only thing she knew. The only thing she has ever come to know in her life. Now that she was with me and the others, she was starting to question what was to become of her life now that she has left everything she ever knew behind.

So when I was given a choice, of breaking or freeing her, I went with the latter, freeing her from those chains that bound her to the lies she was fed. The lies she was put through her entire life. She was devout and loyal to the Absolute, but after failing to raid the Grove (no thanks to me), she was going to be sentenced to death. Despite her being cold and harsh towards me in out first encounter, I wanted, no, needed to save her. To free her. Once she was freed, she didn't know what to do.

At first she was cold towards everyone here at the camp, bearing her teeth like a cat and hissing at them, literally. Even she mentioned she had somewhat of a feline nature when it came to getting wet. I didn't even want to go down that road when it came time for a bath. She would just go down to the river and rinse her hair lightly. That was the first, and will probably be the last, time I had seen her with her hair down. She had caught me and held a dagger to my neck, threatening she'd slit it if I told anyone. I just nodded and she left me there to process what happened.

Afterwards, I didn't dare follow her unless we were walking somewhere with the others. But weeks and months had gone by and she was starting to open up to me. About her doubts of the Absolute.

"You can always talk to me, Minthara," I said, looking over at her, finding her red eyes.

For a moment, there was a look of fear in them before it returned with the same look she always had.

"Is there a place in private we could talk? I do not wish for the others to hear."

I nodded my head, "Yeah. There's an abandoned house nearby."

I stood up and led her there. I might die tonight, but maybe this was a good thing that Minthara feels safe enough to open up to me. Settling down in the abandoned house, Minthara sat next to me, which was rare for her to do as she always sat in front of me, so she could see my every movement.

"I am afraid, Y/N," she whispered.

"Afraid? Of what?"

"I've known of the Absolute my entire life. The one time I did not perform up to expectation, they wanted to kill me, without a second thought. It was as if I was only valuable to them when I did my job and did it exceptionally well. Now that I am with you and your friends, I guess I am afraid of not being able to connect with them. As I can connect with you."

"Why do you think you can connect with me easier?"

"You were the one that freed me from the Absolute. You showed me what a real family is like and not one where it is forged from lies."

"Well, the others came from nothing and then we built up from it. A foundation for a family are always different from the ones we are known to. This family is a band of misfits."

"Better than what I was given," Minthara spoke quietly.

"Hey, we can give you what you lacked."

"I lacked a lot of things in my life, Y/N. My own mother tried to kill me when I turned older because she saved me from being killed. She tried to kill her own daughter! Her own flesh and blood and what did I do with being saved from her attempt? Get caught up in the wrong crowd that did not love me for who I was," tears started to form in her eyes. That was the one thing I didn't think Minthara was capable of until now: crying. It pained me to see her in this much pain.

Reaching over, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side. Turning her head, she cried in my shoulder as hers trembled. My other hand ran up and down her back, trying to soothe her and trying to be her source of comfort. I knew this was a bad idea if she indeed was trying to kill me. But I wanted to give her some source of comfort if she did have plans to kill me.

"Shh, Minthara," I whispered. "It's ok. It's going to be ok."

"How do I move on from everything I knew? How do I go on telling myself everything I ever knew was a lie?!"

"There are just times where you need to ask yourself if it was real or not? Their friendship, their words, the relationships you had with them."

"Can I ask you something, Y/N?"

"Of course."

"The tadpole in our heads, yours did something when we first met."

Shit. When I first met her, before I stopped her from destroying the Grove, my mind wandered a bit too far and I expressed how I felt about Minthara. I thought no one heard those thoughts, but I guess Minthara heard them. It wasn't until now she was going to talk to me about them? I guess we were alone and the best time to talk to someone about feelings would be alone.

"Is that how you truly felt about me?" she asked. "That I was a beautiful person, despite everything I had committed before we even met?"

I turned and faced her as she picked her head up. Reaching over, I placed my hand on her cheek. It was a bit cold to the touch. Those red eyes of hers captivated me ever since I met her before defending the Grove. The harsh look in those eyes were replaced with a soft one, the same pleading one I saw when she turned to face me when facing the court of the Absolute. The same look when I knew I had to save her no matter what.

Caressing the skin on her cheek, it was smooth compared to the rough pads of her fingers. That was the only body part she had allowed me to touch was her hands and face at times. I wasn't allowed to touch her neck, as there was a tattoo on the left side of it. She didn't really go much into the tattoo other than it's the mark of the cult. 

"Not just beautiful, Minthy," I said.

"Why call me that? Both beautiful and the nickname?"

"Well, the nickname was something I came up when talking about you with the others instead of saying your full name. But I won't say it if you don't want me to."

"I-It's something I would have to get used to. Something that only you say and no one else."

"Of course, Minthara."

"But it is true? I am beautiful to you?"

I leaned towards her, "Not just beautiful. Gorgeous even. No one could ever have my heart like you do."

"B-But I am not a good person, Y/N. You of all people should know that. I tried to raid a grove full of innocent people for the sake of the people I followed."

"That was the people. Those were your orders."

"But I view people as beneath me. Even you!"

"E-Even me?"

She sadly nodded her head, "Yes. Yes I see you as someone beneath me. B-But I am not so sure now. I don't see you as beneath me. I-I'm trying to see that for everyone else you have introduced me to. But they have a lot of reasons to not trust me. Especially that druid friend of yours."

I nodded my head, "Halsin is not going to forgive you as easily as I have."

"You've already forgiven me? This quickly? It hasn't even been months since the attempted raid on the grove."

"I know. But after I have seen you try to interact with the others. Try to wipe yourself clean and be better, I know that you truly have been under a lot of shit with the cult. You're trying and that's all that matters, Minthara."

A soft smile formed on her face as she pressed her forehead against mine.

"C-Can we stay like this?"

"Stay like what?"

"Peaceful. Serene. This is the most peaceful I have ever been in my life and I want to cherish it as much as I can."

"Of course. Can I hold you?"

"Hold me?"

"Yes. Hold you close to me so that you won't ever fear of being hurt or left alone again."

She slowly nodded her head, "S-Sure."

I wrapped my arms around her and slowly started to fall towards the ground. Finally resting on the ground, I turned to where I was laying on my side. My arms were wrapped around Minthara's body. She was stiff at first, getting used to being held, but as we laid there in silence for a bit, she slowly started to wrap her arms around me, pulling me close to her. I rested my head on top of hers and took in what was her. She smelt of the earth and everything that made it natural. I thought that was what Halsin would smell like, earthy and like dirt. But Minthara had that kind of smell to her. It wasn't exactly like the soil, but like grass. Like freshly cut grass.

"You smell oddly nice, Minthy."

"At first I thought you said 'minty'."

I chuckled, "No. I was trying to call you by your nickname I have given you."

"Ah. I see. It sounds a lot like minty."

"Just with an 'h'."

"What do I smell like? Death?"

"It's an odd smell. Like freshly cut grass."

"Huh. I would have thought the bear man would smell like that."

"He smells like animals most of the time. Depending on the animal he was."

"Cut grass," Minthara whispered. "Is that a good smell?"

"One of the best in my opinion."

"I will take your word for it."

We laid there in silence until I rolled over, taking Minthara with me. She laid on my chest and closed her eyes, listening to my heartbeat. I smiled and closed my eyes, my hands running up and down her back. Sitting up, I looked worried as she took off the armor she was wearing. There was a light shirt underneath and she laid back down.

"I want to feel your touch."

"Anything for you, Minthara."

My hands snaked underneath the shirt she was wearing and started to rub at the middle part of her back. The pads of my fingers trailed up and down her spine. She shuddered slightly at my touch. I could get used to this. Having Minthara lay on top of me, our legs intertwined and just us holding onto one another in the quiet night. As the moon shone through the broken window, it hit Minthara's hair just right. While it was odd to see white hair at a young age instead of an older age, it worked well for her light purple skin. It reminded me of snow on a mountain. It even sparkled slightly with the moon light. I wanted to touch it. To see it out of its bun she had it in. To see it at its natural length. Reaching up, I dug my hand into her hair and started to undo the bun. She reached up, stopping me from going further.

"S-Sorry. I should have asked."

"Let me."

She reached up and undid the bun, letting her hair fall down past her shoulders and towards covering her chest. I marveled at its length and how it looked naturally wavy like the flow of water in an ocean. I couldn't help but feel my heart beat faster and my thoughts raced. A smirk appeared on Minthara's lips as she reached up, grabbing my jaw, tugging my face towards her.

"Better silence those thoughts in there," she said. "I can sense something you probably don't want others to know."

"Please, Minthara. Would you allow me to kiss you? To hold you tight against my body to where I fear of letting you go?"

"Only for you, my sweet."

I leaned towards her and pressed my lips against hers. They felt cold, but also warm at the same time. After a few seconds of kissing her, there was an odd sensation bubbling up. It felt like my lips were numbing and then there was pain. Pulling away, she looked disappointed of what had just happened.

"Minthy?"

"My lips are laced with poison. It's not lethal in small doses. But it is a bit intoxicating. Literally and figuratively."

I chuckled slightly, "What a great way to go out then."

"You flatter me, Y/N. But no, it is not something to desire. Especially as a good of a person you are."

I reached up and placed my hand on her cheek once more, slowly going towards her pointed ear, massaging it slightly. Her eyes fluttered closed and a small, soft sigh escaped her lips. Those soft, plump, and deadly lips of hers. Leaning towards her once more, I captured her lips once more. Growing a bit hungry, Minthara placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed me into the ground. Her teeth nibbled at my lips and who was I to deny her. Opening my mouth, our tongues brushed past one another's. My hands started to wander around her body as she did the same to me. We wanted to know each other's body inside and out. She got up, hovering over my body as the kiss deepened with passion and fire. Placing her right knee in between my thighs, she pushed her leg up, making my leg come upwards as well. When there was enough space, her knee started to rub up against my crotch.

"M-Minthara," I breathed out through the kiss.

She pulled away and straddled me, a sinister grin on her face. I could only smile at her, my heart racing once more.

"Tonight, you are mine."

"I am yours, Minthara."

After we had our fun, her head was resting on my chest and my hands were playing with her silky, smooth hair. I enjoyed feeling every strand in my fingers and as they parted in between the gaps of my fingers. Our breathing was starting to sync in time with one another, but as her eyes squeezed tightly closed, she stirred in her sleep. My one hand remained entangled in her hair while the other ran up and down her back slowly.

"Shh, shh," I whispered to her. "I've got you, Minthara."

She pushed herself upwards and found my eyes, her breathing heavy and ragged. I leaned up onto my elbows and placed my hand against her cheek.

"Hey, hey, I'm here. I'm here. They're not going to hurt you anymore."

Her breathing settled down and she found my eyes, some tears forming in her eyes.

"You're ok," I said softly. "They're not going to hurt you anymore. Not while I'm around."

"C-Can you promise me that?"

"I can."

"H-How can you be so sure about it? Everyone has left me without reason and without an explanation. How do I know you won't be like everyone else?"

"You won't, but I can prove it by my actions. I didn't leave you when you were vulnerable and having a nightmare."

"It was one time."

"It was actually many times."

"Explain yourself."

"During the first few days you were here, you got frequent nightmares that it even woke up some people in the camp. Others just hoped you were fine, but I got up and sat with you as you mumbled something in your sleep. I brought you water, offered it to you, but you didn't know it was me who was there. You thought it was someone else."

"A bit delirious from the lack of sleep I got at times."

"I didn't mind that you didn't know it was me. But I was there whenever no one would come. Although Karlach did come sit with me one night while you had a particularly bad nightmare. It was so bad you were in a cold sweat, trying to fall back asleep. But you were just crying so hard that I couldn't console you."

"Why?"

"It hurts my heart that you are the result of your environment. You were made to act out in bad choices. All in the name of someone you thought you were loyal to and could look up to. But as you saw, you are disposable to them the minute you are not useful. Not here, Minthara. You are useful, always."

A few tears slid down her face. Reaching up, she wiped them away and looked at the clear liquid on her fingers, staring at it in disbelief. Disbelief she was able to cry? Or in disbelief that someone's words and actions could make her cry? Whatever the reason was, she lowered her body onto mine, hugging me closely. I wrapped my one arm around her, kissing the top of my head.

"You're safe with me, Minthy. No one is going to lay a finger on you."

"Thank you," she whimpered slightly, trying not to sob.

"It's ok to cry. It's not a sign of weakness."

She nodded her head.

"Rest easy, Minthy," I said and laid back down, holding her close to me.

"Y/N," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"I want to let you know, even though I may seem cold and harsh at times, you truly are the best person I could have ever met when I did. I didn't think I would be freed from them. I never even thought of being free from the Absolute and the people there. I knew them for most of my life. Meeting you, it was a blessing. If I could redo it over again, I'd choose with letting you free me."

I smiled, running my hands through her hair.

"Thank you, Minthara."

"Thank you, Y/N. For everything you have done."

[defensivelee]

Alien Alien: Day 3 of Whumptober

The prompts I've chosen today are 'set up for failure' and 'wrongfully arrested.' What could I do with these prompts but write for Marlborough? I think you can tell that I was very inspired by TFC to write this scene...

CW: public humiliation, objectification.

“Visions only show you the surface, my lords. They are never clear.”

That was Sunderland speaking now. If it were not his voice that Marlborough could recognize, the spikes of his tail were easy enough to spot, for they moved one by one, so quickly that they sounded like the descending keys on a harpsichord.

“Why look only to the future?” There was that Dutch android, Bentinck. There was a voice Marlborough could never forget. “Will you rely on it to solve everything that is put in front of you? Look at the truth in the present.”

“They’ve served us well in the past,” Carmarthen’s voice hissed back. “This is the way of the Bocca della Verita, my lords.”

“There is some sense in what Lord Portland says,” Sunderland said. “It doesn’t mean that we shed our old ways. New truths in the present may lead to better predictions of the future.”

You would say that, wouldn’t you, my lord? Marlborough had to stifle a laugh. He stood above them all, glittering under the red sun’s light, his head bowed and his arms crossed over his chest. It tired him so, for he had to hold up the golden cuffs on his wrist as well, but he was so perfectly still that the chains in between them did not even rattle.

For a moment he opened one eye to gaze upon the scene before him through the veil he wore. There was Sunderland, of course, lounging on the table with a lashing tail before the Privy Council like a pleased, fed cat. Even with his mane and tendrils obscuring his mouth he looked like he was smiling, staring right at the agitated Stephen Blackhead through his glowing pink eyes. He was huge, too, nearly the size of the late King James, Marlborough noted with a slight shudder.

Below him, under the table, lay Godolphin with his head resting on his tail. On occasion he would glance up at Marlborough, but he looked as unassuming as any tendril-tooth could, with his dull eyes and slanted horns. Beside him was the accused Bishop of Rochester, his ears flicked down warily.

Bentinck was the only one who sat plainly on a chair, and it was he who looked up at Marlborough with that empty, plastic gaze of his. Marlborough closed his eyes again, but it was too late.

“Lord...Marlborough is listening,” he said, the illustrious title on a human clearly paining him to speak. “Did we really need him here?”

“Nonsense, he’s a good view while we work,” Godolphin said at last. “Besides, he’s a mere human. There has never been anything that forbids them from being here. Look at him, Blackhead, isn’t he beautiful?”

At this Marlborough’s face flushed. The lashing of a tail stopped; it must have been Blackhead, for he answered, “Why, yes, but—”

“It was a yes or no question,” Sunderland said pleasantly.

“No, then.”

“Liar.”

“I, for one, am inclined to agree,” Bentinck said. “But what does that matter?”

“What does the word of an android matter?” Godolphin muttered.

“Very well, then, does anyone want to look?” Sunderland asked, cutting them both off. “Are any visions tugging at the edges of your minds?”

“Of course not,” Bentinck scoffed.

“Nothing new.”

“Same as yesterday for me.”

“Queen Mary might have given us something...”

“You are the strongest seer after the Queen, my lord,” Godolphin said. “What have you seen?”

“I told you it would not be clear,” Sunderland said.

Damnit, just look! Marlborough took a deep breath. It was hot up here; he could feel the hair resting upon his shoulders clinging to him with sweat. The gold was no help, either. He knew the moment that he moved again he would feel it burning more acutely on his skin, and slipping it off every night was an agony.

He cursed his home planet of Forte Solaria now— fools if they thought they were any match for these creatures, if they thought they had any right to call themselves the alien-slayers. And worse, fool himself, for believing in all of it.

But if he could not kill a single one that would have been pleased to make him their dinner, then he could join them, make them know power like they never had before. His reward? This disgrace! If only the King knew of how his own species were treated on Forte Solaria; how Marlborough would have liked to see his face upon hearing it.

He heard talons tapping against the floor, getting closer to him, but he did not dare open his eyes. Not until he felt the warm breath of a tendril-tooth upon him did he look up.

It was Sunderland. He leaned in, lifting himself up on his hind legs to examine Marlborough.

“Are we hungry, my lords?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” Godolphin said. “Will you just look? Will they turn out to be forgeries?” He flicked his tail dismissively. “And don’t touch the King’s art.”

“I’ll gain nothing from my own future,” Sunderland said. “I must look into his.” He lifted a single claw up to Marlborough’s throat. “Have you ever wondered where you would be tomorrow?”

Marlborough nodded once, swallowing.

“Ah. Well, for better or for worse, you’re still here.”

[upthewitchypunx]

You all seemed very confused about my last post, trust me, I'm just as confused about the casting a spell that binds someone's sexuality, but I guess that's where we are.

Look, I try to be a compassionate person, but sometimes when you reconnect with someone who was close to you over 20 years ago and invite them to live in your home it doesn't always go well.

I don't like talking about other people's stories, especially online, but this has affected our life and our home and brought chaos into our space. So, this is my story.

This old friend seems to have it together, paid rent early and had a job lined up before they got here. It seemed they were having a bit of trouble adjusting. After a few months it was clear they were going through a mental health thing for the 3rd time in 2 months and making wild accusations and doing hurtful things like smoking cigarettes and massive amounts of weed when they know they have a lung problem and abandoning cats with no food or water or not paying all their rent or giving 30 days notice before they leave town, you just have to cut ties.

This was the last straw. The one before was 2 weeks ago when I was accused of thinking they wanted to use magic to steal my partner and that somehow because I knew stuff they didn't I was making them feel bad about it and that they think I think they just want to steal all my ideas.

I was compassionate. I stayed calm. I said I was confused, asked if she was okay. A few days later she came down crying to apologize, said she wasn't okay. We talked. I told her about the Oregon Health Plan and how she could get some help. She seemed grateful and she did and had an appointment lined up.

Then last week we left for Astoria for a night and she was there at 4 pm to bring a package in but by 1pm the next day when we got home most of her things were gone except furniture that wouldn't fit in her car. We didn't really notice the things gone at first and thought maybe she had gone on a little trip because the cats were still here so we fed them and got them water, then messaged her after a few days. She claims she had a medical issue and called an ambulance. Then her family came here and towed her home. The time line doesn't make sense. Her family is a 12 hour drive away. How long was she in the hospital? How long did it take to pack her car? Why did she leave the cats? Why didn't she tell us on her own about the medical emergency?

I'm a pretty forgiving person, especially if the person is honest and isn't trying to take advantage of me. It often bites me in the ass, but at least I know I can sleep at night and treat people to my own ethical standard until I hit a point.

Last night we got more confusing messages declaring we actually wanted her cats all along and the whole binding her sexuality thing. We decided that it wasn't worth putting effort into this relationship, she's with her family now, we aren't getting blood from a stone, and that we had done as much as we could, calmly said we were confused and hurt and will find new homes for the cats, and blocked her.

I don't usually air someone's personal issues online, but this is someone you will never know, they probably won't see this, I don't really care if they do, and this is my blog and this is an incredibly frustrating, emotionally laborious, and financially unexpected experience we are going through right now and I just need to vent.

I've already contacted a cat rescue about the cute nice cat and the hissing mean cat that won't come out of the closet. Now I need to get rid of a brand new IKEA bed frame, a couch, a big clothing rack, 2 poorly constructed book shelves, a TV, a bunch of clothes and shoes, a record player that doesn't work, a giant stack of new age books, and a bunch of other random shit.

Oh, and cleanse the house of that nonsense before finding a new housemate, which a friend of a friend is interested in.

All of this while we are working to make the shop on the first floor browsable.

Please do not make disparaging comments about someone who is seriously going through something. I don't need to hear it. It won't be helpful or have a point. I'm not mad, just annoyed and wishing people had better communication.

[inchling-prince]

So y’all remember how I said I had thoughts about Krux having a cat? I may have actually FINALLY written that. It’s about 1400 words long so I put most of it under a cut. So, presenting this under the working title of Operation: Give Krux a Kitty

There was that sound again. Every evening that week near his front door Krux could hear it. Barely more than a squeak. He assumed it was some kind of animal. It wasn’t uncommon for him to run across one, he didn’t live in Ninjago City proper, just the outskirts, but he wasn’t sure what kind would be making that particular sound. He was only vaguely curious, he wasn’t about to take time out to go looking for it, but he found his answer anyway when a kitten came tumbling out of a nearby bush, chased by an angry mocking bird.

It was extremely small, and extremely filthy, and much to Krux’s displeasure, making a bee line for him and forcing him to duck the mocking bird as the kitten tried to weave between his feet.

“Oh for… look out you furry little menace,” he snapped, barely avoiding stepping it while trying to wave the bird away without much success. In fact the only thing he managed to do was to convince it to dive bomb him for a while instead of the cat. It must have a nest nearby to be so aggressive. He gave up any semblance of dignity and ran the last short distance between himself and the door, slamming it behind him once inside.

The next morning as he left he spotted the kitten again, out in the open. It looked to be eating a large locust. Krux huffed a laugh at the sight. Some mighty hunter it was, chased around by a bird and reduced to eating bugs. He briefly considered going back inside for something to feed it, he thought he had some canned tuna, but suppressed the impulse. If he fed the damn thing, it would never leave. It hissed at him as he walked past, much to his amusement. “I won’t take your bug, you’re safe from me cat.”

He didn’t see the cat again that afternoon, but the next morning just as he stepped outside a tiny paw snuck out from beneath a broad leafed plant and slapped at his foot making him jump. Not that he would admit to anyone that he’d been frightened by an animal.

“Now see here cat, this won’t do,” he said leaning to move the leaves aside, revealing the kitten. “You get me attacked by birds, you leave grasshopper legs on my sidewalk, and now you attack my innocent foot on its way out of the house.” Krux fought to keep from cracking a smile as the kitten fluffed itself up as large as it could go. He hadn’t actually meant to scare it, it was just feisty. Looked like it was a long haired cat, just based on how huge its tail puffed up. He thought it might actually be white under all the grime. It hissed and spat at him as he reached for it, which he ignored until it took another swipe at him, this time drawing blood on his hand.

“Ouch. Like to fight do you?” he asked it, grabbing hold of it by the scruff and pulling it up and out of its hiding spot. It was clearly furious, twisting and turning in his grasp, trying exceedingly hard to bite him. He couldn’t help but smile at it as he tucked it into his elbow where it couldn’t claw him again, although it sank its little teeth into his sleeve.

“You certainly are a little menace,” he told it, petting its head with one finger. “You kind of remind me of someone. He loved to fight too.”

Krux gingerly sat down on his front step, still holding the kitten in his arms. It had given up biting him and was instead maintaining a low growl. “I might have referred to him as a menace once or twice too. I miss him every day,” he said softly, rubbing behind the kitten’s ears. He was rewarded with a break in the growling. “Aha, found the good spot, did I?” he asked, before heaving a sigh. “As nice as it’s been, cat, aside from the bleeding, I have to go to work.”

He slowly loosened his grip on the kitten and it was off like a shot into the bushes again. “Well, some gratitude for the ear scratches that was, kitty.” Krux pushed himself up off the step and decided that maybe he would stop and buy some cat food on the way home. Maybe.

The kitten was nowhere to be found that evening, or the next morning. Even the familiar squeaking sound was missing. When it failed to appear the following evening, Krux assumed it had moved on and told himself that he wasn’t disappointed. He tucked the cat food into the very back of the cabinet just in case.

It was another two days before it reappeared with a brand new bloody notch in its ear looking filthier than ever. “Oh, there you are!” Krux said as he stepped out. The cat made a token effort to pounce at his foot before Krux snatched it up to examine its ear. It was mostly scabbed over but looked like it had broken open again at least once. “Tch. You’re too young for cat fights already no matter how feisty you are, what got you?”

The kitten growled as Krux touched the injured ear and swatted ineffectively at his hand, seemingly resigned to being manhandled. He figured it was a good sign that it was still ready to smack him. The injury didn’t really look too bad all things considered. He thought that it felt skinnier than a few days ago though.

“You’re in rough shape, little one.” Krux looked around once to check if anyone could see him. Taking in a stray kitten might look good in the Dr. Saunders persona, but he was still somewhat embarrassed about it. Satisfied that his few neighbors were minding their own business, he brought the kitten inside.

“I think we’re going straight to the sink. You won’t like it much, but you can’t be in my home as filthy as you are.”

True to his word, the kitten did not like it much, during its bath it managed to tear a good three or four scratches into Krux’s forearms, and he was as soggy as the cat by the end of its bath, but it was at least done. And Krux had been correct, under the filth, there was a snowy white kitten.

“There. Don’t you feel better now that you’re clean?” he asked it. It mewled pathetically as though it could understand and Krux laughed. “Alright, let’s get you fed. Don’t tell anyone.”

Over the next week or so, the cat made itself at home with only a few minor hiccups. Krux had to lock it in the bathroom while he hurried to buy a litter box, and more than once he tripped when it had run between his feet. A set of curtains was clawed up before he figured out that it needed a scratching post, and his hands took a beating before he figured out that the cat needed some kind of enrichment and he sheepishly went out to buy a few cat toys. A trip to the vet revealed that the kitten was male and only about 7 weeks old, and he had been extremely lucky that Krux took him in. But it wasn’t long before it started coming to him at night to curl up on his chest and sleep. Krux assumed it needed the warmth because it was still so small. He complained about it just for show, but was perfectly content to pet it during the night.

The week turned to a month and the month turned to six months and the kitten grew into a beautiful cat with the fluffiest tail Krux had ever seen. Which if you asked him, the cat used entirely for evil, having made a habit of tickling Krux’s face while he was trying to work. And he STILL liked to attack Krux’s feet in the middle of the night. He never did learn to meow that loudly, mostly sticking to squeaks and slaps to communicate, but he was a good listener most of the time. Krux’s closest and only confidant with his brother still trapped in a temporal vortex. And Krux definitely would take the secret to his grave, but he was a little bit less lonely.

[nuctoria]

Luigi’s villain’s harem…but but…

*scoots forward*

They survive the aftermath of the games, and was found by weegee.

*Scoots up close and personal* you follow @lizadale and @ionlydatesassyelves too I see.

Bowser: he only needs some medical care and he's off to another scheme again. Nobody can stop this man but he will put some safety measures when Luigi tags along or is his turn to go through his mess. The day Bowser quits is the day either Bowser Jr is old enough or he retires and the Mario games end.

King Boo: E-Gadd gave King Boo to Luigi after he was nearly threatened by Mario and Peach cause they ain't gonna risk another escape and potentially an even more ghost hunt that could lead to someone's death. King Boo is outraged and spends every second of the day trying to free himself and make Luigi's daily life a living hell full of fear. Luigi is terrified to have him so close, despite his prison, hardly sleeping the first weeks to make sure he didn't break free in the middle of the night and did something horrible. After those weeks were up, he got sick of King Boo's constant attempts to scare him and snapped back, sort of. It still surprised King Boo to see this scaredy cat actually having a backbone and teased him to get more of that sass from him, finding it amusing. Luigi played along, oblivious for awhile, until he saw how the boo was laughing at him. They unconsciously started to bond, Luigi asking to know more about boos and King Boo noticing small things about Luigi that he asked about, such us why he liked that certain type of tea or why he paces so much. His interactions with Polterpup were amusing too. This continued all the way up to King Boo's next escape.

Antasma: it's rehabilitation for him. Luigi took him in after seeing how weak he was and he couldn't bare to leave him like this when there was a risk of him dying. Plus, he felt bad, thinking he and his brother were the reason he exploded back when they battled. Antasma was having none of it and often trying to attack Luigi but was too weak and starving to do actual damage, hissing when Luigi dared to come close. Luigi started with leaving different foods in a room he didn't use often and let Antasma do as he pleased, checking up on him every few hours to make sure he was still alive. Antasma mostly slept to not loose his energy but he found it weird how Luigi never locked the door, instead keeping it open, when he slept. It was as if he was letting Antasma feed off of him. He still fed on his dreams but he was too curious about the plumbers nature to actually do any harm or evil. He started letting Luigi stay in the room he was recovering in and made small conversation with him. He did think of leaving and going back to Pi'illo Island for revenge but he always held back, knowing that if he did so he'd loose the peaceful life he had now with Luigi and it felt worse than admitting defeat, so he stayed and lived in solitude with his green savior.

Dimentio: unlike Liza's Dimentio, the one I'm thinking just snuck in the damn house and threatened Luigi to keep quiet and help him recover, which worked given the things he put Luigi and Mr L in. It. Was. Hell. for our Man in Green, but he couldn't risk disobedience, not with his and his loved ones' lives on the line at the hands of this demented jester. He just hoped he could find a way to prevent any more catastrophes before it was too late now that he could monitor Dimentio more carefully.