#argus reed frog

[garlic-and-vanilla]

[Evening looms, and the camp settles down. Outside your tent, muffled conversation gradually gives way to a chorus of chirping frogs and the susurrus of windblown reeds.

You lay on your bedroll and stare at the cloth above you. Beyond, the night is peaceful. Your body aches for rest, but your mind turns in useless circles. Ketheric Thorm, finally dead. Orin and Gortash, waiting in Baldur’s Gate. Wyll’s father, infected. Astarion, hunted. Karlach-

The nocturnal chorus around you suddenly swells. It rises to fill your mind, drowning your worries under the sound of waves lapping gently at the riverbank.

A scent plays across your face- warm, sweet, and musky. Vanilla. It’s the work of a moment to realize who, or rather what, is responsible.]

1. Curse the illithid. How dare it touch your mind.

2. Ignore the intrusion, try to sleep.

>>3. Allow your thoughts to turn to The Emperor

This happened because I’m in love with the idea of being able to access the prism at night and bother Emps.

Takes place shortly after Emps’ illithid reveal, and supposes that Tav did not accept the astral tadpole at that point, so now they have to argue about it again.

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 1 - ENVOY

It's a beautiful day in Old Sharlayan, and you are a horrible catte.

Rating: General General: Fluff/Nonsense Characters: Z'rhiki Irhi (Warrior of Light), Erenville, Fourchenault Leveilleur, Alisaie Leveilleur, Alphinaud Leveilleur, G'raha Tia, Urianger Augurelt Word Count: 1955 Content Warnings: None

Splash

Erenville lunged forward, catching his quarry gently but firmly between his two hands. The frog squirmed in this grasp, but was unable to wriggle free.

“May I ask,” Erenville started as he lowered the frog delicately into the rectangular tank that sat between him and his self-appointed new friend, “Why you wished for me to teach you how to catch frogs? Do not tell me that  your time masquerading as one has instilled you with a new fascination form them?”

“Something like that- Oh, wait!” She too dove her hands into the shallows of the pond, but unlike him emerged with empty hands while an agitated frog hopped away from its would-be captor.

“Drat!” she muttered, drying her hands on her trousers. “Anyway, you did say you were an expert on frogs. And since you collect things for the Studium, I figured you must be pretty good at catching them.”

“You are not wrong,” he agreed. “Though perhaps it would have been easier to ask your magically inclined friend to conure them for you?”

She flashed him a sly grin. “Oh, I definitely couldn’t ask Y’shtola for help with this.”

Erenville hummed. “And what, if I might ask, is ‘this’? What use is it you have for these creatures?”

“I have a really boring meeting at the Forum later today.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

Her expression morphed into one of unconvincing innocence. “I’m just going to take them to do a little sight-seeing! I won’t let them get hurt, I promise!”

“I see.” He regarded her for a moment, wondering idly if he should really be assisting in this endeavor. He was starting to have an inkling of what she might be up to.

“I’ll take good care of them! And I’ll feed them some nice bugs and bring them back home after!”

Then again, it really wasn’t any of his business what went on at the Forum.

“You must be careful not to lose track of any – greater Sharlayan is too cold for them, and if they can’t find their way to water, their skin could dry out.”

Though still kneeling by the pond’s edge, she gave him something of a mock salute, one fuzzy ear twitching as she did so. “Yes, sir! Oh, look, there’s another one over there!”

His gaze didn’t follow the trajectory of her pointing hand, remaining fixed on her while she eyed her next quarry. “You are quite interesting for a diplomatic envoy, aren’t you? You do not remind me much of the other delegates to Sharlayan I have met.”

“I would argue I’m the perfect ambassador  to Sharlayan!” She quipped without removing her eyes from the frog plopping through the reeds.

Erenville wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so instead he edged gingerly over to her and took her hands in his. “Here, you are holding your hands wrong. And you should lower your upper body, or the frog will notice your shadow before you have a chance to strike. Like this-”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s in the bag?” Alisaie nudged Rhiki with an elbow and looked pointedly down at the large and oddly square sack in her arms. She noticed the beginning of a smile on the Warrior of Light’s face before the woman caught herself.

“Oh? This?” Rhiki asked, adjusting her grip on the sack as the group settled onto some of the benches lining the corridor just outside of the Forum’s main chamber. “It’s just some books. We always have to wait ages for an audience, and since I don’t know much about Sharlayan I thought I would try to read up on it while we wait.”

“Really?” Alphinaud piped up, voice incredulous but eyes sparkling with excitement.

He’s going to be so disappointed, Alisaie couldn’t help but think. Alphinaud may have been naïve enough to believe that their friend had turned over a new, more studious leaf, but she certainly wasn’t. No, Rhiki was like her, and she was up to something.

“Oh, you brought books? A terrific idea! Might I borrow one? It would certainly help to pass the time,” G’raha Tia interjected.

“Uhhhh, you’ve probably already read all of these ones,” she heard Rhiki lie.

Was that bag… making noise?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!”

Fourchenault’s bellowing voice ricocheted through the forum’s halls, echoed by numerous footsteps rushing down the hall towards him. The shouting summoned several of his colleagues, a smattering of staff, and the Scions of the Seventh dawn – all eager to find the source of the commotion. They all crowded around him, peering over, under, and around him into his office. All was quiet for a few seconds, before he saw the “Warrior of Light” double over in raucous, cackling laughter.

“Fourchenault! I didn’t know you liked frogs so much!”

His grip on the doorframe tightened until his knuckles were white. Her.

The rest of the assembled crowd broke out into murmurs (and, to his aggravation, chuckles) as they took in the sight that had greeted him upon opening his office door.

A large frog sat placidly on his desk, croaking. Somehow it seemed to be looking directly at him, its black beady eyes boring into his soul.

Another frog hopped from around the corner of the desk, while yet another leapt down from  a shelf on one of the many bookcases that lined his office. One scrambled aimlessly across the paperwork and notes he had carefully laid out, and another had contented itself wallowing in the soil of his potted plant. They were everywhere.

“It’s cute that you have so many of them, but you really shouldn’t let them wander freely around your office. They might get stuck somewhere! Or escape when you open the door!” The delighted smugness in the Warrior of Light’s voice made him seethe.

“These are not my frogs, as I suspect you well know,” He managed through gritted teeth.

This was her doing. He knew it. It had all been her doing. He almost hadn’t noticed when it started – small, inconsequential things not being where he had left them, or an inkwell he could have sworn he had just refilled being empty upon his return to his office. He thought the weight of his duty was simply taxing him, making him forgetful. But then there had been his wobbly desk chair, which he had spent more than an hour shifting about in trying to get comfortable in before flipping it over in frustration to see that someone had glued a small, flat stone to the bottom of one of the legs. That had clearly been someone else’s doing.

Then there had been the day he had continuously bumped into his office furniture and décor. He was not a clumsy man, and he had spent half a day ruminating on his sudden lack of coordination before noticing the indentation of a table leg in one of the area rugs and realizing that every bit of furniture in his office had been moved an ilm and a half to the right. A week or so after that he had returned to his office to find that the contents of all of his desk drawers had been rotated twice counterclockwise.

He didn’t know why she was doing it. Worse, he didn’t know how – he always locked his door behind him when he left his office. But he knew she was doing it, somehow.

And this? This was a clear escalation.

“Oh, you mean they’re not meant to be in here?” The Warrior asked in a saccharine voice.

“Obviously not.”

“Oh! Well, it’s your lucky day, then!” she exclaimed gleefully. “It just so  happens I’m excellent at catching frogs! And, coincidentally, a friend of mine asked me to pick up some amphibian cages they had ordered, and I was planning to stop by after we finished our business here, so I have them handy! The Twelve must be looking out for you!”

Fourchenault was certain the Twelve had nothing to do with this.

The miqo’te slipped under his arm and into his office before he could protest, and began removing a series of small, single-occupancy terrariums, like those gleaners used to transport specimens, from her bag and onto the stone floor of his office. His irritation flared.

“You will not get away with this! It’s obvious to everyone here that you are the one who released these creatures into my office! This is not behavior befitting of an emissary of the Students of Baldesion. I swear I will have you-“

“What, you think I did this?” The woman asked indignantly. She gingerly scooped the first frog from his potted fern.

He took a deep breath, hoping to control the tone and cadence of his speech. He wouldn’t be dragged down to her level. He would compose himself in a manner befitting that of a celebrated orator. “It’s the only rational conclusion I can come to, based on the evidence. Why else would you have brought so many frog tanks into the Forum.”

“I told you.” She carefully placed the first frog within its containment vessel and affixed the lid. “I was delivering them to a friend! Besides, these are clearly salamander tanks, not frog tanks. Obviously you didn’t study herpetology in the academy.”

“It hardly matters what variety of amphibian they were intended for!” He barked. “And if what you say is true, I suppose you wouldn’t mind me sending an assistant to accompany you to deliver them to your friend.”

The Warrior of Light shrugged. “You can if you want. I am going to have to take a detour to Labyrinthos to rehome these poor frogs after I’m done rescuing them from the prison you’ve been keeping them in, though. Oh, I suppose after that I should probably take the tanks home to wash out before I drop them off…”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. He opened his mouth to retort but she cut him off.

“Besides, I couldn’t possibly have set a bunch of frogs loose in your office. I was waiting with everyone else to be granted an audience with the Forum. You can ask the other Students of Baldesion if you like.”

“It’s true!” He heard his daughter’s voice chime in, and he looked over his shoulder to see her standing with her hands on her hips. “Rhiki was with us the entire time. We would have noticed if she had disappeared long enough to set a load of frogs free in your office. It couldn’t have been her!”

He could feel his blood pressure rising. Alisaie had always been the more… difficult of his two children. He loved her dearly, despite what people might believe of him, but she could certainly be strong-willed when it pleased her. He had half a mind to reprimand her for lying on behalf of her… playmate, when one of his father’s favorite students = Urianger, was it? - spoke up.

“My lady speaketh naught but the truth, Lord Fourchenault,” The man, dressed in the robes of an Astrologian, said calmly. “I can attest that Z’rhiki ventured not beyond the limits of mine sight for the entirety of our repose.”

The Warrior of Light beamed. “See? What did I tell you? I’m sure any of the others would say the same! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have frogs to collect. There’s no need to thank me – I’m doing it for their sake, not yours.”

By this point he could feel a pounding headache coming on. Perhaps this was the gods’ doing. It was beginning to feel like this woman was an envoy sent not by the Eorzean Alliance to beg for Sharlayan’s aid in their futile war, but by the Twelve, specifically to punish him.

[snkts]

send IMPRESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they tried to impress someone, successfully or not

(Okay buts baby James trying to impress the new pretty blonde worker)

He’s trying not to stare. He’s almost succeeding. Emphasis on almost. … It’s a valiant effort, in any case, and can you blame him? Victor is something new. There isn't often all that much new on the estate. Sometimes Papa or Grandfather bring things in for business. Sometimes people come to discuss similar matters. Lately, James has been invited to sit in for those conversations. He was getting older, had to start learning about this sort of thing. It’d be him hosting the meetings and running the company one day. (Grandfather had complained about that, called James soft. Papa had argued about that.) 

But Victor… Victor was new. Victor was different. He’d appeared almost out of nowhere - James still wasn't sure what that full story was - and Papa had offered him a job. (Grandfather had complained about that, too.) 

(Dog and Thomas had also complained.) 

“What are you looking at?” A voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Speak of the devil. James looks up to see Dog and Rose approaching. James quickly turned away and folded his arms tightly over his chest.

“Nothing.” He said quickly. Apparently too quickly, with the way Rose smirks. He casts his eyes away and pretends his ears aren’t red. Dog scoffs. 

“Really, James?” He tipped his hat up just enough to let James see the irritation on his face. 

“What?” James asks, huffing. 

“Why are you looking at him?” Dog asks. 

“I’m not.” James insists. 

“You are.” Rose grins. Dog stands beside James, still looking sour. 

“He’s a thief.” He says. “My father says he’s stealing all of our work. That if ‘Mister Creed’ has his way, the two of us will be on the street by the end of the year.” 

“We wouldn’t do that to you!” James protested. “The two of you have worked with us forever! And, besides. You’re my friend. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Dog says nothing, only grunts. 

“I don’t think he means anything by it.” Rose says, swinging her arms and twirling the hem of her dress. 

“Of course not, Jamey-boy never means anything.” Dog shoves his shoulder and James scowls. “Not enough between his ears for that.” 

“Not James, Victor!” Rose stops walking to roll her eyes and groan. “I’m sure he’s not trying to get you removed.” 

“He’d better not be.” Dog sulked. James studied him a moment longer, then made a point of sighing. 

“Oh, come off it.” He says, finally returning the shove from before. “If your mood were to get any more sour, you’d kill the trees.” And he grins. “Then you’d really be out of a job.” 

“Shut up!” Dog gripes. James and Rose laugh. 

“Let’s go.” Rose picks up the pace again. “If we want any time to spend at the river, we’ll have to hurry.” 

“Alright.” Dog follows after her, feigning reluctance. James follows, too… But not before sparing another glance at Victor. 

He wonders if Victor knows his hair looks red in the sun. 

*****

The river had been cold and crisp and refreshing. Dipping their toes in, hopping along the rocks, making whistles out of the reeds. The sort of things they’d done since they were smaller than they were now. Sometimes, going back to that simplicity is nice. Takes James’ mind off things. He’s got his feet in the water, shoes and socks piled neatly beside him, when Dog pipes up. 

“Bet I can catch a bigger fish than you.” He grins. James stops in the middle of tossing a stone into the water. 

“What?” He asks, furrowing his brow. “What do you think you’ll catch them with? Your hands?”

“No!” Dog says, then stops. “But I could. And bet I’d be better at that than you, too. No, we’re using spears.” 

“We don’t have spears.” Rose doesn’t look up from where she’s been trying to gently trap a frog in her hands. She sounds completely disinterested. James couldn't blame her; it was a big frog. 

“I have a knife.” Dog said, pulling the blade from its sheath. “Did you bring yours, James?” James nodded, then patted around on his belt. He did, didn’t he? He was sure- Ah! There it was. He unsheathed it and held the blade up to the light. 

“Of course I did.” He said, and Dog nodded.

“Good. Then let’s find some branches and make spears - I’ll show you how.” 

“Alright.” James said, sliding back onto the grass and standing up. “Rose, are you going to join us?” 

“Don’t be silly.” Dog rolls his eyes and sheaths his knife. “Girls can't fish.” Rose forgets the frog. 

“Says who?” She asks, scrunching her face in frustration. James tucks his knife back into his belt. 

“Yeah, says who?” He offers his hand to Rose to help her back up onto the bank. “There’s only one way to find out.” 

And so they did. The three of them scoured the ground near the treeline until they found suitable branches. They used their knives to sharpen them into points (they had to lend their knives to Rose) and found spots to wait along the banks. From there, it was just a matter of trial and error. Lots and lots of trial, and even more error. Lots of laughter, too. It was fun. Even when they got mud up to their knees, and found themselves soaked to the skin, it was fun. And they even managed to catch some fish! … Eventually. They’d come to the agreement to bring them home for food. Or, well, maybe Dog and Thomas would cook them - Rose had rightly pointed out that Mother would have a fit if James brought them inside. 

Oh well. 

They were still half-soaked, shivering, and grinning when they returned to the grounds proper. Spears in hand, fish still skewered - a triumphant war party, returned from battle. And once again, James spotted Victor. Sweaty and flushed from working under the sun, hair pulled out of his face, arms raised over his head to bring the axe down on a log and-

“Careful.”  Rose nudged his shoulder, and James narrowly avoided stumbling on a root. He muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ even as Dog glowered. 

“We don't need more wood.” He said with a huff. “My father and I cut plenty.” But James isn’t listening.

“Hello, Victor!” He called, trotting over to the log pile. 

“Evening, little guy.” Victor said, reaching down to grab another log to split. James found himself in too good a mood to mind being called ‘little’. Victor finally looked over at him, then returned his attention to the wood - then did a double-take. “What in blazes happened to you?!” James looked down at himself, finally taking in all the mud, and shrugged.

“We went fishing.” He says, then holds up his spear. “I caught this.” Victor blinks and tilts his head.

“Huh.” Was all he said. Dog snorted. Before James could fire a retort at the derisiveness of the sound, Victor looked up. “Oh, Mister Logan. That the bait you got there? Nice of you to carry it back.”

Dog sulked all the way back to the house. 

James found himself smiling until well after supper.

[thoughtful-lume]

As per his grandmother's advice, Taehyung books an appointment for a massage. His sole disadvantage, he would argue, is that nobody had warned him the masseuse would be a stinking hot piece of a fine man and oh, lord, the uniform hugs those delectable biceps just righ— 

Focus, Taehyung.

Now, the genuinely hard part is trying not to make a fool out of himself seeing as he is about to have his massage cherry popped. Crudely put. A negligible little fact that his guides appear to be having a field day about. 

Here he is, lying snug on his back with this absolute god of a human being telling him to relax in what has to be the most perfectly pitched voice Taehyung’s hearing has had the pleasure of being subjected to.

Now you'll have to excuse the absolute fuck out of Taehyung because there is nothing remotely relaxing about having such an exquisite man fondling his skin like he's kneading the beginnings of a fine French pastry, so if Taehyung's baguette suddenly begins displaying signs of profound interest, then that is absolutely okay because Jeongguk had told him that it. might. happen. 

But really, it's the two soggy pretzel sticks on the other side of the room with their invisible asses hovering over the lounge chairs that snicker up a storm who have Taehyung biting the insides of his cheeks because, listen, Jeongguk's palms feel like heaven and Taehyung is not about to laugh in his face, thank you very much.

What comes as a surprise is Jeongguk’s outburst of laughter instead. Taehyung pops an eye open, surprised by the abrupt fit.

"Sorry, I'm really sorry, their laughter is just— Excuse me." The palm of his hand covers his mouth as he tries—and fails miserably—to contain the onslaught of giggles. 

‘Thei’—

"You can see them?!" Taehyung jerks into a sitting position, his blood circulation struggling to follow. The towel he had been covered with gathers in a heap over his lap. Jeongguk's hands reach out to steady him and another guffawing wave washes over the room.

"Oh, my god, I promise I am not laughing at you!" Jeongguk wheezes, his hands firm around Taehyung's waist and shoulders. Taehyung would be a little less pliant and a pinch more demanding had: A. His blood reached his brain in time and B. Had he not been suddenly and haphazardously treated face-first to the absolute most gorgeous smile. 

He's guided back down onto his back with the most melodic of giggles to serve as a sweet, sweet lullaby.

He wakes up what feels like it might be an eon later to a face-full of a beaming smile and scrunched up eyes. "Rise and shine, little bean," his spirit guide titters and Taehyung is sad to find out that Jeongguk is nowhere within the perimeter of the room.

There is an attempt on Taehyung’s part to somehow tie the events prior to his black out together but, alas, it proves to be nothing but futile. It's not until a second later that the door bursts open and in jogs Jeongguk with a bottle of water in his hands and eyes drowning in concern. 

"How are you feeling?" He asks tentatively and all Taehyung can do is blink back at him like a pointed long reed frog. Specifics intended.

"Earth to Taehyungie," his guide waves a hand over his face only to earn a stern remark in response. 

"Let him come to in peace!" Jeongguk admonishes, lips pulled into a pout. 

"You can see them!" Taehyung's voice raises and he sits up abruptly once more, blood failing to reach his brain in a timely fashion for the second time that day. 

Jeongguk pushes him back down carefully before he says, "I'm curious as to why you find that surprising."

Taehyung stares at him like he’s grown a second head. Has he finally lost it? 

"I believe it was your grandmother who insisted on your appointment with me, I highly doubt she is unaware that I am a spirit warden," Jeongguk chuckles at Taehyung's dumbfounded expression. "You seem to not be in on it, however." 

His smile is stunning. 

"Let me take you out on a date," Taehyung blurts out. 

"What?" 

"What?" 

There's laughter ringing somewhere to his left, but he ignores it. "Um, if you, um, want, you know, just— forget about it, I don't know what’s gotten into me." 

"I'd love to go out on a date with you," Jeongguk says calmly. 

"Huh?" 

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Taehyung," Jeongguk laughs softly, the confusion on Taehyung's face utterly endearing. 

"Huh." 

"'Huh'," one of his guides parrots, shortly followed by a snort.

That is, in short, how Taehyung lands himself his wonderful boyfriend. The very man he makes sure to spoil rotten at any given opportunity if only to earn but a smile from Jeongguk. It becomes somewhat of a hobby of his, to go out of his merry way with each and every little thing he does for Jeongguk from that moment on. All the way until their happily ever after and then some more.

— dated August 24, 2020, stashed around that twitter account that I never took off private

[funkyfrogoftheday]

today's funky frog of the day: the argus reed frog (Hyperolius argus)!!!! the males of this species are green, while the females are a reddish-brown. they're also known as the boror reed frog or the argus sedge frog! they live throughout eastern africa, and live near water at a low elevation.

photo by John Lyakurwa

[lillywillow]

Fatherhood

Summary: Steve wants to be the best dad ever for his baby

 Word Count: 1344

 Square Filled: Pregnancy

 Pairings: Steve x Female Reader

 Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff

Written for @star spangled bingo

 Being married to Steve was an absolute dream. He was everything you could ever want in a husband and more. While you were still dating, the subject of starting a family had been brought up but life got in the way and the thought had been put on the backburner. After your wedding, the subject was once again up for discussion. People gave you all sorts of advice to help, some utterly ridiculous and some practical but you knew if you listened to all of it at once, you and Steve would drive yourselves mad. You decided if you weren’t pregnant by a certain timeframe, you would make an appointment to be checked by a specialist. Fortunately, that would not be nessacary...

...

 When you woke that morning, you had a good feeling about the day. You headed into the bathroom to take a pregnancy test. After a while, Steve became a little worried about you as you normally would walk out into the kitchen to greet him. He knocked on the bathroom door.

 “Y/N? You okay? You’ve been in there a while...”

 You opened the door with the stick in your hand.

 “Steve... look...”

 Steve took the item from your hand and looked at the two parallel lines.

 “Does this mean...?”

 With a smile, you teared up and nodded.

 “It’s positive...”

 “We’re going to be parents!”

 Steve hugged you tight and kissed your face all over. You couldn’t stop smiling.

...

 Over the next few weeks, you told everyone you knew about your upcoming arrival. Once again, people offered their advice, even if some of it was pointless but the number one thing people offered was help which you were grateful for.

 The first thing you did was convert the study into a nursery. It took a while but eventually you got all the old furniture out of the room and painted the walls a soft eggshell with the help of your friends. Steve told you he had a surprise for you and for days he worked tirelessly on it, not even allowing you to enter the nursery until he was done.

 Finally one day, he took you into the room to show you his work.

 “What do you think?” he asked, showing you the beautiful mural he painted.

 On the back wall, Steve had created an adorable pond scene. A white duck was swimming in the middle surrounded by her little yellow babies. A happy green frog sat on a lily-pad near some cattail reeds and water lilies. Every detail had been lovingly drawn with such fine brushstrokes.

 “I love it...”

 “Do you think our baby will too?”

 “I’m sure baby will, my darling,” you smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. Steve smiled and kissed you softly, placing his hand on your tummy. He couldn’t wait for your baby to get here.

...

 A few weeks later, you went in for a health check. Steve had missed the last few appointments due to work so he was determined to come to this one. You went in when your names were called and the doctor prepared everything. Steve helped you up onto the examination table and held your hand as the doctor put the gel onto your belly. Instantly, the baby’s heartbeat could be heard when the scanner was applied to the gel.

 “What’s that noise?” Steve asked, making you smile.

 “That’s the baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor confirmed.

 Steve gasped softly and his eyes widened in wonder.

 “That has to be the most beautiful sound I ever heard...” He teared up a little and squeezed your hand.

 “Would you like to know the gender of the baby?” This had been a conversation you had early on in your pregnancy so you already knew your answer.

 “No, thank you. We would like to leave it as a surprise.”

 “Okay. Well, everything looks great so far. We’ll schedule another appointment for you and if you have any questions or concerns, just call.”

 “We will. Thank you, Doctor.”

 With that, another appointment was made and you headed out of the office and headed home.

...

 Once you were home, Steve helped you to your room for a rest. Lately you had been feeling exhaustion set in easier than it used to. After he had made sure you were comfortable on the bed, Steve laid down beside you so he could talk to the baby, placing one hand on your bump.

 “Hi, little one. I’m your daddy. I’m so, so excited that you’re on your way and- oh!” Steve was interrupted by a tiny movement against his hand.

 “Was that...?”

 “I think so...”

 “Baby’s first kick!” Steve grinned and kissed your tummy, inciting another kick from the baby against his hand. “This is amazing!”

 You grinned and ran your fingers through his hair.

 “What’s with that look, Y/N?”

 “You’re the cutest. The baby isn’t even here yet and already you’re gushing over their smallest achievements... plus you’re taking such good care of me and taking care of my needs...”

 “I love you, Y/N and this little life right here... this is an extension of that love. I want to be the best dad ever. Teach them everything they need to know, be there for them when they need me... With you by my side, I feel like I can reach that goal...”

 You found yourself tearing up at his words. Smiling, Steve leant forward and kissed you softly, the baby still kicking away at his hand.

...

 During your eighth month of pregnancy, your family threw you a baby shower at a relative’s place in the countryside. The party had been a lot of fun with everyone who attended, playing games, eating food and some of them bringing presents. You watched as the some of the kids ran around, playing in the mud. They were all laughing and squealing in joy until one of them got stuck and started to panic. Being the closest one to the scene, you waddled over to help. With one hand on your belly, you managed to get onto your knees and stretched out your hand. The boy grabbed your fingers but it wasn’t enough.

 “Y/N!” Steve screamed. He ran over to help you out of the mud before extracting the stuck child.

 You still held your stomach as you felt strong pains.

 “Steve... Steve something doesn’t feel right...”

 “Hold on, Y/N. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

 Steve abruptly told your family that you needed medical assistance and fast.

...

 When you got to the hospital, you were taken in to be examined. Fortunately, it would only prove to be strong Braxton Hicks contractions but they still wanted to keep you in for observations. Steve informed your family on your condition and promised to keep them updated. He sat by your side, putting an arm around him.

 “I’m so glad that it was just a false alarm,” he sighed.

 “Me too. That was really scary...”

 “Why didn’t you come get me? I could have handled it...”

 “I wasn’t thinking. Besides I’m not the one who constantly puts themself in danger, Mr. I-jump-out-of-planes-without-a-parachute-and-run-into-burning-builsings-every-other-day-of-the-week.”

 Steve chuckled and kissed your head.

 “I may do those things but I’m not the one carrying precious cargo.”

 “That is true... Steve, can we not argue? The important thing is I’m okay and baby is okay.”

 “You’re right. You’re both safe and that’s all that matters.”

...

 One month after that incident, you safely gave birth to your beautiful little baby and Steve was absolutely over the moon. He couldn’t believe that the moment he had finally been waiting all these months for was finally here. Steve never left your side the whole time, holding your hand, stroking your hair; being the supportive husband he been throughout your whole pregnancy. As he held your child for the first time, Steve knew he couldn’t wait to start the next stage into fatherhood.

[withaneye]

GAY FROGS HAVE BEEN COMPLETED

This took me over two weeks man ;-;

I hope to make em into stickers

All frog identities and type of frog (left the right)

-Rainbow flag snowflake white’s tree frog

-Asexual black rain frog

-Demisexual purple frog (that’s it’s the actual name, no cap)

-Demiromatic argus reed frog

-Bisexual poison dart frog

-Aromantic glass frog

-Pansexual thorny frog

-Omnisexual mimic poison frog

-Lesbian female tomato frog

-Fraysexual African dwarf frog

-Cupiosexual white Pacman frog 

-Lithosexual crucifix frog

-Polysexual Ulugura forest tree frog

-Abrosexual albino gray tree frog

-Placeosexual strawberry poison dart frog

-Greysexual purple fluorescent frog

-Polyamorous turtle frog

-Intersex Harlequin frog

-Nonbinary backsplash poison dart frog

-Agender white-lipped tree frog

-Neutrois poison dart frog 

-Genderqueer phantasmal poison frog

-Demiboy amazon milk frog

-Demigirl albino Cuban tree frog

-Transgender metallic reed frog

-Androgyne red-eyed tree frog 

[themurphyzone]

BatB AU: A Provincial Life

Summary: It’s an ordinary day in ACME Village for Pinky. Until it isn’t. 

AN: This oneshot adapts the opening number ‘Belle’ and village scenes, up until Pinky sets off for the castle in search of his father, which leads into the entry Imprisoned. 

AO3 Link

Pinky scooped a ladleful of oatmeal into a small, earthen bowl, humming dreamily as he added a dash of cinnamon and several apple slices into the mixture. 

Today was a very special day for Papa, and Pinky wanted him to eat a healthy and nutritious meal before he went off to the fair with his invention. It would be a few days of travel, and Papa would need his strength for traveling there and back. 

“Papa, I’m going out!” Pinky called as he carefully pushed a large woven basket of acorns outside. “Your breakfast is on the table, so make sure you eat it all!” 

There was a sputter and cough of machinery and a trail of smoke from the small room that served as a makeshift workshop next to the kitchen, followed by a loud bang. 

“Just getting ‘er warmed up for the final test!” Papa shouted. “C’mon, Madeleine! You may’ve fallen apart for the 264th time, but you can do it!” 

Oh, Pinky had no doubt people were gonna love the woodcutting, ax-wielding, only occasionally threatening to take fingers off machine known as Madeleine. She was definitely gonna win that gorgeous blue ribbon at the fair! And even if she didn’t, they’d love her all the same anyway. 

He opened the door and stepped into the beautiful autumn morning, taking in the cool, fresh air as he carefully maneuvered the basket of acorns into a red wagon. The leaves were varying hues of crimson and gold, dancing along a gentle breeze that ruffled Pinky’s fur. The sun was peeking over the horizon, slowly bathing the world in light as it rose.

Two songbirds flew merrily above him, their sweet morning song filling the air with beautiful music. Pinky reached up, and one of the songbirds briefly landed on his outstretched hand before flying after his partner, leaving a red feather behind. 

“Thanks for the feather!” Pinky shouted to the sky as he tucked the feather behind his ear, where it fit perfectly. 

He picked up the wagon handle and pulled it along, the wheels squeaking along behind him.  

In the meadow beside their quaint little cottage, Pharfignewton chewed placidly on dew-covered grass. She neighed a greeting to Pinky, and Pinky cheerfully waved back. As much as he loved taking the beloved family horse into town for company, she needed her strength to lug Papa, Madeleine, and all their supplies later. So he had to let her rest. 

Reeds and wildflowers of all sorts grew along the banks of the pond that separated the little cottage from the rest of ACME Village. A pair of ducks paddled along in the water, trailed by four adorable, fluffy yellow ducklings. Several tiny turtles sunbathed on an old log, while a large green frog sat on its lily pad and caught insects unlucky enough to stray in the path of a long, sticky tongue. 

Pinky took his time crossing the cobblestone bridge over the pond, watching the wild animals go about their day without hustling, bustling, or rushing from place to place. Their lives were very different from their neighbors, despite living so close together. 

Little animals, little pond, and little humans in their little town. 

Or was everything just bigger than him? He was a mouse after all. It wasn’t hard to be bigger than a mouse, unless one happened to be an insect. 

As Pinky crossed onto the other side, he spotted a smooth, pretty gray stone poking out of the reeds. He plucked it out of the damp soil, cleaning the dirt off with the inside of his apron. 

It would be a perfect stone for his collection. And he didn’t have any that were this smooth. Most of the rocks he picked up were half-crushed or broken from city streets or well-worn paths. He tucked it into a pocket that he’d sewn on himself, because for some odd reason dresses never came with pockets. 

Then he faced the little town, with all its timber and stone buildings lining a narrow cobbled street that quickly filled with half-asleep, half-awake people trying to get an early start on their sales and trades. 

To think he and Papa had lived here for three years. While not the most exciting town in the world, Pinky was just happy they didn’t have to move again. He’d spent too much of his life being bustled from place to place since Mama died. The cottage was the loveliest place they’d ever owned. 

And while the townsfolk had the same ol’ familiar routine every day, Pinky tried to vary his activities. From baking to horseback riding to volunteering for odd jobs around town, or just taking a day off to nap under a tree and roll down the hilly meadows while grass stains formed on his back.  

Just a normal provincial life, yet Pinky often wondered what laid in the big blue yonder. Did the stars and sky look different elsewhere? Do the clouds form big, fluffy, and silly shapes in South America? 

“Bonjour!” a man called out as he threw open his shutters. 

“Good morning, Emile!” Pinky replied as he skipped past his window.  

“Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!” The echoing chant swept across rooftops and streets alike as a new day dawned upon ACME Village. 

Everyone from chimney sweepers to merchants to coachmen responded with vigor and cheer, all of them satisfied with their occupations in life. 

Pinky greeted everyone he passed, though not all returned the gesture. Everyone was staring at the feather tucked behind his ear, the bulge of the stone in his pocket, or the red wagon with the basket he pulled along. He didn’t think he was that strange-looking. 

Unless he had a bit of cabbage stuck in his teeth again. But he flossed really well last night, so he didn’t think that was the case. 

“Marie, hurry up with the baguettes!” the baker shouted as he carried several loaves of bread outside. 

Pinky inhaled deeply. There was nothing quite like the scent and sound of fresh bread. 

“Narrrrrrf! Smells just like heaven, Mr. Baker!” Pinky exclaimed.  

The baker set his tray of bread on a windowsill, tapping his foot as he impatiently waited for Marie. “Morning, Pinky. You off somewhere this morning?” he asked, though he didn’t turn around. 

“Yup! I’m delivering this basket of acorns to Slappy!” Pinky said, pointing to his basket of acorns. “She really likes the acorns near our cottage but doesn’t wanna make the trip herself. She says it’s too far for her aching joints and she can’t take Skippy along because she’s still trying to convince him that we’re not gonna be shot like Bumbie’s mom if we venture into the meadow, and-” 

“Yes, yes, that’s all very nice,” the baker said, half-leaning into the open window. “Marie, I said hurry up with the baguettes! The morning rush is coming soon!”  

“Well, if you’d bought the ingredients from Francois instead of Vincent like I suggested then maybe we wouldn’t be running behind, Pierre! But no, you always act like you know best!” Marie snapped. 

Not wanting to get embroiled in yet another argument between the baker and his wife, Pinky followed the cobblestone path further into town, where the usual market sprung up, full of local farmers, tradesmen, and merchants. 

Villagers bartered and argued and traded like always, and as Pinky stopped to admire a small yellow daisy poking out from the cracks of the street, he could feel eyes follow him closely in that looking-at-you-but-pretending-we’re-not sort of way. 

“There goes the funny mouse again.” 

“Gets distracted by the littlest things, I swear.” 

“Does he even have a useful skill?” 

“Besides being the village idiot? Doubtful.” 

They’d made those comments ever since he and Papa had moved in. Everywhere they went, people asked Pinky for his trade, and Pinky always told them he took care of Papa and worked various odd jobs around the area for money. 

But that wasn’t considered a useful role in society.

He didn’t mind helping Papa though. 

Oh well though. He couldn’t delay getting these acorns to Slappy, so he hauled his wagon alongside a horse-drawn carriage that steadily cut through the crowded streets, clearing Pinky’s path.  

“Bonjour!” the coachman called to a young woman walking down the street. His eyes were trained on the girl rather than the road, and his horse plowed straight into a farmer’s cart, knocking his produce into the road.  

“MY CABBAGES!” the farmer screamed, tearing out his hair as several pigs devoured his vegetables. 

The coachman let out a nervous laugh and flicked the reins, spurring his horse forward and blithely ignoring the despairing farmer’s demands for compensation. 

“I need six eggs!” a woman cried as she tried to hold several fussing babies at once. 

“That’s too expensive!” a man complained to someone selling pottery. “Twenty coins for a pile of cheap clay? Bah!” 

Pinky and the carriage parted ways as the cobblestone street changed to an unpaved dirt path. The gossip and chatter of ACME Village faded to background noise. 

Slappy had made her home in a hollow tree on the outskirts of town, close enough to get supplies but far enough to deter most from knocking on her door. 

Pinky passed by many warning and danger signs that kept most people from bothering the old squirrel. There was a new post up today, right next to Slappy’s front door. 

LAST WARNING 

NO SELLING, NO PREACHING, NO TAX COLLECTING 

KNOCK AT YOUR OWN RISK 

Well, what was life without a little risk? Pinky knocked on the door anyway. 

He was trying to decide if one of the clouds overhead was shaped more like a monkey or a strawberry when a small brown squirrel in a blue nightgown and cap opened the door. Despite the early morning, he was wide awake and hopping in place, his excitement only growing as he spotted the basket of acorns behind Pinky.  

“Morning, Skippy! Got the basket of acorns your aunt wanted!” Pinky exclaimed.

Skippy grinned as he took the basket from the wagon. “Thanks, Pinky! Aunt Slappy will love these!” 

He popped a few acorns into his mouth and loudly crunched the shells. 

“Skippy, what’d I say about answering the door at this godforsaken hour in the morning?” a cranky voice yelled from upstairs.

“It’s just Pinky with the acorns, Aunt Slappy! No door to door salespeople, preachers, or tax collectors in sight!” Skippy shouted. Then he turned back to Pinky and pointed to his ear. “I like your feather, by the way.” 

“Thanks! I like your nightcap!” Pinky said, returning the compliment with his own. 

A few moments later, Slappy joined Pinky and Skippy downstairs. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, her long gray tail dragging behind her. 

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Slappy asked. She tossed several acorns into her mouth and nodded her approval. “Crunchy with a pinch of salt. This is gonna be a good topping for my world-renowned creamed spinach later.” 

“SPEEWWWWWWWWW!” Skippy cried, sticking his tongue out in disgust. 

Pinky just smiled politely. Slappy took a lot of pride in her creamed spinach recipe, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying it tasted like soggy socks. 

“Hey, when I was your age, I ate lots of creamed spinach for dinner. And now I have enough muscles to wield a hundred ton mallet,” Slappy retorted. 

“Wow! Was that when dinosaurs roamed the earth?” Skippy asked. 

Slappy gave him a light smack on the back of his head. “Little brat. Go grab a few coins from the bureau in my room. Gotta pay the mouse for lugging this stuff across town.” 

Skippy blew a raspberry at her and ran up the stairs. 

“Your tongue is never gonna go back in your mouth if you keep doing that!” Slappy yelled. 

Funny how the Squirrels were his best neighbors, even though they lived on the opposite side of town. They’d helped out so much when Pinky and Papa first moved into the countryside cottage, from showing them all the best places to buy from and all the best trees to climb. Everyone else usually stared at them strangely for not knowing how to find a shop and moved on with their day. 

Still, Pinky didn’t want to impose on them or anything. Collecting the acorns was no trouble at all. And he knew money could be a little tight in the village at times. 

“You don’t have to pay me,” Pinky said. “Poit. I don’t mind the morning exercise.” 

“You’re walkin’ outta here with those coins whether you like it or not,” Slappy said in a tone that invited no room for argument. “Don’t be one of ‘em honor before reason types. That sorta mindset is nothing but trouble.” 

Slappy’s long tail flicked in irritation, accidentally knocking a framed painting askew on the wall next to her. She sighed and fixed the crooked painting so that it hung straight. “Can never keep this darn thing straight,’ she muttered. 

Pinky had been inside the hollow tree many times, but he’d never seen this painting before. It contained a colorful cast of characters, from a carrot-munching gray rabbit to a crazy black duck to a short gunslinger with an enormous bright red mustache. 

In the painting, a youthful Slappy with a manic grin on her face and giant firecracker in her hand was chasing a bald hunter. Her smile was brighter, and her eyes didn’t seem so world-weary there.

“Like it? Old pals sent it to me two weeks ago,” Slappy asked, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “The Looney Tunes Troupe were a rascally bunch, that’s for sure. All the money for a detailed painting, and they can’t afford a better frame. Our shows were legendary back in the day, you know.” 

“Never heard of them,” Pinky admitted. 

“Course ya haven’t,” Slappy sighed. “Your generation doesn’t know good comedy when it hits them in the bum with a mallet. Troupe’s faded into obscurity now, but they’ve never stopped traveling and being annoying yet lovable nuisances to everyone from Albuquerque to Kalamazoo to Timbuktu.” 

Pinky tilted his head. “But you don’t travel anymore.” 

If the Squirrels needed something they couldn’t get in ACME Village, they usually asked Pinky to run the errand for them. 

“Yeah, well, that’s life,” Slappy said. “Sometimes you’re a nomad with total freedom and other times you gotta flee with your nephew to a different country.” 

Before Pinky could ask more questions, Skippy barreled downstairs with as many coins as he could carry. “I didn’t know how much to grab so I just took a handful,” Skippy said, dumping the currency onto a small side table. 

Slappy picked up six coins from the pile and dropped them into a small drawstring bag, then tightened the strings and tossed the bag into Pinky’s wagon. “You can have these. I’ve got plenty more lying around,” she said. 

“If you're sure then,” Pinky said, picking up his wagon handle and turning it around. “Love to stay, but Papa’s leaving for the fair soon and I gotta see him off!” 

“Tell him we said hi!” Skippy shouted, and Pinky saluted back. 

Slappy yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “And I’m hitting the hay again. It’s too damn early, and I’m too tired to censor my swearing in front of kids.” 

o-o-o-o-o  

After his visit to Slappy’s tree, Pinky decided to kill some time at ACME Village’s fountain, where he could enjoy the fine spray of water and run in circles along the stone rim. It was always fun seeing how fast he could go without tipping into the water.

“Sorry!” he shouted as he accidentally trod over freshly washed sheets that a woman had been folding next to the fountain. She made an indignant noise and carried her basket of laundry away, nose high in the air. 

And the whispers started up again. 

“That mouse may be a beauty, but he is way too peculiar for his own good.” 

“You have to wonder if he’s feeling well.” 

“Always a dreamy, far-off look on his face.” 

On his tenth lap around the fountain, a flock of sheep strolled by, guided by a young shepherd from behind. Two fluffy ewes jumped onto the fountain rim next to Pinky and drank the water. Pinky smiled and stroked their soft wool, and the ewes bleated in contentment.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Pinky whispered into their ears. “Don’t go blabbing this to anyone now...but I believe Papa’s a shoo-in for that blue ribbon!” 

One of the ewes turned and nibbled on his ear, and Pinky laughed as her blocky teeth tugged and tickled his fur. He gently pried her jaw open and his ear popped out of her mouth, dripping wet with sheep saliva.

As Pinky prepared to slide off the fountain rim and onto the small bag of money he’d gotten from Slappy, a regal fanfare went off in the distance, thundering hoofbeats growing ever closer. 

A messenger in a white powdered wig blew his coronet and cleared his throat. 

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE! MAKE WAY FOR HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, PRINCE SNOWBALL AND HIS HUNTING PARTY!” 

The messenger’s declaration sent every man, woman, and child running towards the plaza, gathering in front of the entrance of the local tavern, the centerpoint of all social activities in ACME Village. 

The hunting party rode in on their enormous horses, spearheaded by the ruler of the province, Prince Snowball. Though only a small hamster, he was famed by all for his keen mind and ability to get results on whatever he set out to accomplish. 

Though dressed in only a simple red shirt and breeches for hunting, the only signs of his higher status being the golden crown upon his head and the expensive black horse he rode, his presence commanded respect and awe. 

Behind him, a hunting party consisting of the best huntsmen and archers in the land dragged an enormous buck, two wild boars, and several pheasants into view. 

“People of ACME Village, tonight we shall dine on these fine specimens of the animal kingdom!” Snowball announced as everyone bowed in fear of a noble’s anger. “Everyone’s presence is required, for I have a further declaration that shall lift this derelict province out of the ashes and into a glorious future!” 

His pink eyes were sharp, but beneath that layer of intelligence, there was an undertone of something that didn’t feel right. Pinky couldn’t explain it, but he always just had this odd, icky feeling that crawled up his spine whenever he saw Snowball.

The crowd straightened up, cheering and clapping and praising Prince Snowball’s name for bringing them such good fortune with the promise of more to come. 

Pinky’s ear twitched. There was a soft, desperate sound mixed in with the roars of the captivated audience.

And to the left side of the crowd, there was a tiny lamb whose back leg was tangled in a large fishing net. The mother ewe was both nuzzling the lamb in comfort and trying to pull the net off with her teeth, but to no avail. 

The shepherd never noticed his sheep were in trouble, too caught up in hailing Prince Snowball to notice one of his charges was stuck. 

Pinky hopped off the fountain and slowly walked over to the thrashing lamb and his mother, putting his hands up to show them he wasn’t a threat. The lamb bleated in panic, and the mother eyed Pinky warily. 

“May I help? I’m good at untangling stuff,” Pinky asked. He’d gotten a lot of practice when Papa occasionally tangled himself up in threads and wires. 

The ewe regarded him for a long moment, then nuzzled the back of her lamb’s head, letting him bury his head into her wool. The lamb’s trembling stopped, his back leg still. 

It was a sweet gesture, one that seemed so familiar to him, even though his own mother had long passed. He remembered that feeling of warmth and safety from so long ago, the last time he felt like he was truly home. 

Wiping a stray tear from his eye, Pinky untangled the mesh from the lamb’s leg, starting from the top and slowly moving down to the hoof. 

“There you go, baby,” Pinky said once the leg was completely free. The lamb pulled his hoof out of the netting, gave it a good shake, then joyfully pranced and bleated around his mother and Pinky. 

The mother gave Pinky a tiny nod, bleated to her little one, and together they rejoined their flock. The shepherd was still ignoring his flock in favor of Prince Snowball. Pinky couldn’t see him anymore from the ground. 

Pinky picked up his wagon handle, ready to go home and help Papa hitch everything up to Pharfignewton.

Then he felt a pair of fingers pluck the feather he’d lovingly tucked behind his ear. Pinky turned to get his feather back, and jumped when Snowball was just inches from his face. 

“Hello, Pinky,” Snowball said. He smiled, but it was more out of smugness than a real smile. 

Pinky’s ears lowered, but then he remembered his manners. “Bonjour, Prince Snowball. May I have my feather please? A really nice bird gave that to me.” 

Snowball frowned, holding the feather out of Pinky’s reach. The feather crinkled in his tight grip. “How could you possibly need this? It’s hardly good quality for even the cheapest quills.” 

“Poit. It doesn’t need to be a quill to make me happy,” Pinky replied. 

Snowball rolled his eyes, tossing the feather behind him. Pinky tried to grab it, but it was caught on a gust of wind and drifted to the ground. It landed in a mud puddle, soaking the barbs of the feather and staining it brown. 

“Pinky, get your head out of the clouds and pay attention to important matters,” Snowball’s lip curled as he blocked Pinky from retrieving his feather. “Such as showing royals courtesy when they address a peasant like you.”  

“Excuse me, Snowball,” Pinky said politely, going around the hamster to pick up his feather. The damage didn’t look too bad. Still, he tried to be careful when he cleaned it with his apron. 

Snowball crossed his arms, and the town’s whispers started up again. 

How dare he not show proper respect to Snowball, does he fancy himself higher than a prince, why would Snowball pay him any individual attention and not someone more deserving. 

“That’s Prince Snowball to you.” Snowball’s fur bristled for a moment, but he took a deep breath and put his arms around Pinky’s shoulders instead. “The whole town's talking about you and your lack of...purpose. And we can’t have that, you realize. After all, a machine requires all of its cogs and gears to run smoothly, otherwise it won’t work.” 

“Bet his crackpot father would know something about that!” one of Snowball’s men chortled. 

Everyone laughed, even Snowball, who rarely did so. An unfamiliar feeling boiled in Pinky’s stomach. 

“Don’t talk about my father that way!” Pinky snapped. His inventions were amazing and he was going to do well at the fair! They didn’t know how hard Papa worked on his inventions! 

Snowball glared at his men. “Yes, don’t talk about his father that way, you fools!” he hissed like Pinky hadn’t heard him laughing just seconds ago. 

“He’s not a crackpot! His invention’s gonna win the blue ribbon cause it was made with smarts and love, you’ll see!” Pinky declared, just as an explosion went off in the distance. 

And he knew exactly where that explosion had come from. 

“I have to go. Goodbye!” Pinky dragged his wagon behind him, setting off for the cottage he and Papa called home. 

“It’s a pity and a sin, 

He doesn’t quite fit in. 

He really is a funny mouse, 

A beauty but a funny mouse, 

He really is a funny mouse, 

THAT PIN-” 

The sharp, high-pitched crack of a rifle interrupted the village’s song, and everyone ran for cover. 

“WILL YA SHUT UP? SOME OF US ARE TRYIN’ TA SLEEP!” Slappy shouted from her tree, her screech blowing tiles and lumber from the roofs of buildings. 

Just a provincial life in this little town. Pinky ran across the cobblestone bridge, wondering if he truly had the right to ask for something more than that.

o-o-o-o-o

He hurried over to the cellar, where smoke trailed from the gaps of the heavy wooden doors. Pinky opened the entrance, and a smoky cloud blew right in his face. He coughed and waved it away, hiding his nose in his dress as he hurried over to Papa, who’d been thrown onto his back. A pile of broken wooden planks covered him. 

In the corner, Madeleine sputtered, her gears and dials spinning wildly before she finally quieted down, one loose spring sending a gear crashing into a wall. 

“Dagnabbit, Madeleine!” Papa cursed, stumbling as he extracted himself from the pile of wooden planks. Pinky grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet, checking him over for any injuries. Luckily, there were no bruises or splinters to be found. “Don’t you stall out on me now!” 

Pinky smiled. Papa’s string of random gibberish and mutterings of smart inventor words he couldn’t understand was something he’d been familiar with from a young age. No matter where they lived, it was just one of those things that came with home. 

Papa huffed, untying his apron with all his tools and tossing it to the ground. “She’ll never work in time for the fair! What was I thinking?” he lamented. “It’s not too late. Maybe I can cobble something else together quickly! Yes, I’ll just take the doowhatzit out of Madeleine, combine it with the kaleidomajiggy from the old washer, and-” 

“You always say that, Papa,” Pinky said, hugging his father around the shoulders. Papa rested his hands over Pinky’s with a sigh. “Don’t worry. I believe Madeleine will work, and she’ll win you that blue ribbon and help you become an inventor for the history books! Narf! Just like Benjamin Franklin, ‘cept without all the kite-flying.” 

“You really think so?” Papa asked, his frown turning to a hopeful smile. 

“Course I do,” Pinky grinned. 

A determined look crossed Papa’s face, and he tied his apron around his waist, nearly tripping over it in the process.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s fix ‘er up!” Papa said, laying down on a flat, low cart and pushing himself under the broken stove that made up Madeleine’s main body. “So how was your morning in town?” 

“A little birdie gave me a feather. I found a pretty stone by the pond. And I delivered the acorns to the Squirrels. Did you know Slappy used to be a part of a traveling troupe? I didn’t.” Pinky recanted his morning to Papa as tools clinked and scratched against metal. “Oh, and I guess you’ll be missing Prince Snowball’s feast tonight. They’ll have venison and wild boar there.” 

“A feast? That sounds nice. Much better than inn food,” Papa mused. As usual, only part of what Pinky said ever registered with him. “Are you going?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Pinky admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a good party...but Prince Snowball is-um, what’s a good word for him?” 

“Rich? Smart? Confident?” Papa suggested. “He’s been talkin’ to you a lot lately.” 

So everyone’s noticed, even Papa who spent much of his time in the cellar that doubled as a workshop. 

“He has,” Pinky agreed. “And he says he can give me a purpose. But...I don’t know. I don’t think he’s right for me. Maybe I’m just as odd as they say I am.” 

It was the same everywhere they settled. No matter what Pinky tried to do, the whispers always followed him. He noticed strange things, he wore strange clothes, he and Papa were always strangers in towns where everyone knew each other from birth. 

Papa slid out from under Madeleine, wearing a silly helmet on his head that gave him huge, bug-like eyes. 

“My son is odd?” Papa asked in disbelief, and Pinky laughed. The helmet always made Papa look silly. “Don’t know where these folks get their ideas from…anyway, I think Madeleine’s all ready to go. Care to give her a whirl?”

“Zort! Am I!” Pinky clapped his hands together. Papa pointed to a lever, which Pinky pulled with all his might. 

Madeleine’s bells and whistles sounded, water steadily pumping through her system while steam filled her stove. Pulleys and gears turned along her sides, reaching the front. Her dials quivered until they reached the red zone, and the ax at her front swung down, scoring a deep cut in a block of firewood. The ax swung faster and faster, until one final split the firewood in half and sent one chunk flying. 

Pinky and Papa ducked, and the chunk flew over their heads and landed perfectly on a pile of firewood against the wall. 

“She works!” Pinky shouted in joy, kissing one of Madeleine’s wooden wheels. “You did it, Papa!” 

“I did?” Papa murmured. “I did! 265th time’s the charm, Pinky! Look out fair, I’m on my way!” 

o-o-o-o-o

Within the hour, Madeleine was wheeled out from the workshop, covered and tied up with a tarp, and hitched to Pharfignewton. 

“Bye, Fig,” Pinky said, hugging his beloved horse’s muzzle. “Keep Papa on track to the fair, okay? You know how he likes taking shortcuts.” 

Pharfignewton whinnied gently, planting a sloppy kiss on top of Pinky’s head.

Then Pinky embraced Papa, who returned the hug with the same enthusiasm. And he was reminded of how the mouse and horse he considered his home would be leaving for some time. He wished he could go with them, but someone had to keep house and he was the best one for the job. It wouldn’t be for long, but he’d miss them all the same. 

A stray tear dropped. Just another reason he was considered odd. He cried so easily. 

“Chin up, Pinky,” Papa murmured, rubbing a soothing circle into Pinky’s back. “I’ll win that blue ribbon along with the prize money, and we’ll begin our lives anew within the week.”  

Through his tears, Pinky gave him a wobbly smile. Then he helped Papa onto Pharfignewton’s back. 

“Take care!” Pinky called as Papa flicked the reins, and Pharfignewton trotted off at a steady pace, dragging Madeleine behind her. He watched them from atop the highest hill in the meadow, as they went further down the well-worn trail that merchants used for their travels. 

Then they were nothing but specks in the distance, swallowed by the thick, twisted branches of the forest. It was an unusual forest, one where the trees lost their leaves in early autumn, making the trees look scarier than they actually were for half the year. 

With nothing else to do outside, Pinky went back into the empty cottage. He’d had three years to become familiar with this house, full of odds and ends from Papa’s inventions alongside their meager belongings. 

Mama’s cloak hung from a place of honor on a coat rack by the door, one of the few belongings Pinky could take along no matter where they lived. 

Hours passed, and Pinky already missed the banging and exploding and sputtering of Papa’s inventions. It was just too quiet without them. 

He cleaned the red feather and pretty stone, then added them to his collection. Feathers and rocks didn’t take up a lot of room, and like Mama’s cloak, they could easily be taken to new places as well. He was just very careful not to lose them. 

The wagon was tucked away by the door, and the small bag of money was tucked inside a flower pot. It was how Papa always stored money, and Pinky had picked up the habit. 

There wasn’t much to do. He’d cleaned the cottage several days ago, cellar notwithstanding. That was Papa’s territory, and he always had trouble finding tools when Pinky put them away.

Suppertime approached. 

He could either cook dinner or go to the feast. 

Didn’t matter what he chose. He would be lonely either way. 

A sharp rap on the door startled him out of his thoughts. How strange. People only knocked at this time when there was an emergency. 

“Sorry for taking so long. I wasn’t expecting-” Pinky opened the door, and he immediately stood face-to-face with Prince Snowball. They were so close that their noses nearly touched. “-to see you here, Snowball. Um, this is a surprise. Poit.” 

Snowball’s pink eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Pinky remembered that Snowball preferred to be addressed with his full title. “Yes, it’s not often that someone of my standing chooses to grace a peasant’s home with their presence.”   

Behind Snowball, there was an entourage of townsfolk. Many wore their Sunday best, which was still quite cheap compared to the royal finery that Snowball bore. A fine red coat, a decorative golden cape slung over one shoulder, and white dress pants. A shiny crown embedded with rubies and emeralds sat atop his head. 

“I thought you were all at the tavern for the feast,” Pinky admitted. 

Snowball laughed, but it was a joyless laugh. He stepped across the threshold without being invited in. 

“Why, Pinky. Your hovel is positively primeval,” Snowball said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. He tugged Mama’s cloak off its hook, stared at it for a moment, then carelessly tossed it behind him. “If this is how you live, then it’s a truly auspicious time for me to come and offer you an opportunity out of this squalor.” 

Before Pinky could ask what auspicious was, though he figured it had something to do with Austria, Snowball harshly dug his fingers into Pinky’s shoulders. Pinky tried to pry them off, but the fingers just burrowed further into the fabric of his dress. 

“Not to worry, dear Pinky,” Snowball said. “Today is the day all your dreams come true.” 

“You mean my dream to find a home and a porpoise? Because I don’t know if we have enough money to live by the ocean. Beachside properties get very pricey, you know,” Pinky asked. 

Snowball waved off that concern. “You forget that finances are of no consequence for me. But I digress. For now, allow me to plant the image of a wonderful future in your vacant mind.” 

“Okay, but I don’t know how you’re gonna water it,” Pinky said. 

“Picture this,” Snowball demanded, leading Pinky around the cottage. “A magnificent castle. Two golden thrones, mine higher than the queen’s of course. A few summer homes to expand my sphere of influence. A court of other royals, lesser nobles, while the servants do all the menial work around the fires and kitchen. We’ll have...oh, six or seven.”     

“Servants?” Pinky grinned nervously as Snowball leaned in with a chuckle. 

“Castles, Pinky. How else would I showcase my power?” Snowball corrected. “And the townsfolk shall become our servants. It will save me the trouble of setting up a hiring process anyway. Besides, you’d appreciate having familiar faces around. Less of an adjustment period.” 

Pinky freed himself from Snowball’s grip. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Snowball shrugged. “But in simplest terms, I require a queen. One who is good at smiling, waving, and entertainment.” 

Wouldn’t that person become a princess rather than a queen though? 

Snowball must’ve seen the question coming. He paused in front of the mirror to adjust his crown. 

“There is but one title higher than a prince, Pinky,” Snowball said once he was finished. “In order to qualify for the kingship, it’s required of me to marry first. And do you know who that queen will be?” 

“Elizabeth? Victoria?” Pinky wilted under Snowball’s intense stare. “Um...Cleopatra, final answer?” 

Snowball shook his head. “It will be you, Pinky.” 

A queen? He’d always just been the inventor’s son. An outcast no matter where he lived. How could he possibly be a queen? 

“That’s a very generous offer, Snowball,” Pinky said, once he finally found his words again. 

“Isn’t it, though?” Snowball said smugly. “You and your father will live in an extravagant new home as you perform your queenly duties, and I will be forever hailed as King Snowball. Both of us shall benefit.”

Maybe he and Papa could live in better conditions. Maybe they didn’t have to move around anymore. Maybe they could afford shoes for Pharfignewton. But at the same time…it wouldn’t be right. 

It wouldn’t be home. 

Smiling, waving, entertaining. Was that all he was good for? Was that all Snowball thought he could do? 

“I thought...marriage was for love,” Pinky said softly. “That’s what Papa always said.” 

Snowball rolled his eyes. “It’s a political marriage. It doesn’t have to be built on love.” 

Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

It was one of the earliest morals Pinky had learned. 

Wish for a home, only for it to be a castle. Wish for a purpose, and it’s to be married without love as a foundation. 

“Snowball...I’m speechless,” Pinky said, backing out the front door. He nearly tripped over the welcome mat, but regained his footing. “I...I really don’t know what to say.” 

Not even a narf would help him out of this situation. 

“Say that you’ll marry me, Pinky,” Snowball replied, and he stalked toward Pinky like a cunning predator, backing him against the edge of the porch. “And after you say yes, I will announce our engagement to the rest of ACME Village at the feast. Attendance is mandatory for a reason.” 

“I’m really, really sorry, Snowball,” Pinky said. He’d backed up too far, and the heels of his feet dangled precariously over the edge. Instincts kicking in, Pinky grabbed Snowball’s shoulder to pull himself to safety, though he underestimated his strength. Snowball yelped as he was pulled over the edge, falling into the mud puddle by the staircase. 

Oops.  

“Sorry, Snowball! But I just don’t deserve you,” Pinky admitted. 

The mud-covered crown slipped around Snowball’s head, covering his eyes until he took it off with an annoyed grunt. 

Pinky slipped back into the house, grabbed a small towel, and handed it to one of Snowball’s men. 

Claude, if he remembered right. 

“He can have that one,” Pinky told Claude, who gingerly took the towel like it was a fragile item. 

Snowball crawled out of the mud, his royal clothing covered in gunk and sticks. He stomped out of the mud, hands clenching against his sides. 

Snowball’s brow lowered, his pink eyes hidden in humiliation and a quiet, seething fury. 

Slowly, Pinky retreated into the cottage and hid behind the door. There was something about that look that terrified him. And it wasn’t the fun kind of fear, either. 

“You will consider my offer, Pinky. Make no mistake about that,” Snowball spat, his scrutinizing gaze directly on Pinky, despite the door between them. “Claude, quit being daft and hand me that towel already!” 

Pinky waited in the cottage until he could no longer hear their voices or footsteps. They must’ve gone back to the tavern for the feast. 

He didn’t feel hungry though. Snowball’s proposal left a sour taste in his mouth, like he’d just sucked on a lemon.

“He asked me to marry him,” Pinky said to his mother’s cloak, which was still crumpled on the floor. He gently picked it up, brushed off the wrinkles, and put it on. The fabric was warm against his back, like being wrapped in a ginormous embrace. “But he doesn’t love me. Narf! You can’t have a marriage without love!” 

He thought of all the married couples he knew in ACME Village. The baker couple, who were constantly at each other’s throats. Gerard the butcher was always making googly eyes at any woman who bought cuts of meat, much to his wife’s frustration. There was the stressed lady who had to drag her six kids around town while her husband played cards and darts at the tavern.

And Pinky thought of his parents. His mother had fallen in love with his father’s inventive streak when she was the daughter of a town official and Papa was just the crazy mouse whose inventions blew up a lot. 

He tied the cloak tighter around himself. Unable to take the silence of the cottage and the stifling influence of the village much longer, he allowed his feet to carry him out of the cottage and to wherever they wanted to go. 

He sprinted into the unknown. He wouldn’t be afraid of whatever he found there. The autumn wind blew golden, red, and brown leaves in whichever direction it wished as Pinky climbed the highest hill in the gorgeous flower-filled meadow. 

The peak of the hill was his favorite spot, and he was surprised that nobody else came out here to enjoy the view with him. Trees lost their colorful leaves so they could sleep for the winter, the river splashed and babbled along its banks, and proud mountains with mysterious cloud-covered peaks rose high above the landscape.

What laid beyond villages and towns, he didn’t know. 

There was something in that great wide somewhere for him. Just a feeling, an inkling, a hunch. 

But could he truly go exploring it when his home was here? 

Maybe he could convince Papa. Somehow. When Papa came back with the prize money, they could fit Pharfignewton with her shoes and they could all explore together! 

Staring into the autumn landscape, Pinky sank to his knees, careful not to squish the daisies and dandelions around him. 

Maybe that was home, but…

He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. Would he ever figure that out? 

He loved Papa, but he couldn’t really talk to him. And Slappy had her hands full with such an energetic nephew. Pinky didn’t want to impose. Everyone in the village gossiped about him, like he couldn’t understand. 

But he did. 

And it hurt. 

“Would be nice to talk to someone. Anyone, really,” he whispered, and he blew on a cluster of dandelion puffs. His wish scattered along the wind.

Pinky picked up more dandelion puffs. If he blew more around, maybe his wish would come true. And dandelion flowers were very pretty. 

Maybe they were considered weeds, but how could anyone call such a sunshine-y yellow flower a pest? He didn’t get it.

Then a distant, familiar neigh caught him off-guard. 

Pinky thumped his hand against his ear. Maybe he was missing Pharfignewton so much that he heard her voice? 

But he’d recognize her magnificent white coat and spirited blue eyes anywhere. 

“Easy, Pharfignewton! It’s okay!” Pinky cried. He scrambled up Pharfignewton’s leg, avoided her flailing hoof, and held onto her muzzle as she bucked and reared in sheer panic. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay…” 

Pharfignewton quieted down, her frantic neighs melting into soft, worried nickers as Pinky stroked her nose. She stopped kicking, though she was wide-eyed with fear. 

Madeleine wasn’t hitched to Pharfignewton. Nor was she wasn’t the only one missing…

And Pinky suddenly understood his horse’s panic. 

“Pharfignewton, where’s Papa?” Pinky asked. “Is he okay? How did you get separated? Did he try another shortcut when I told him not to do it?”  

Pharfignewton’s hooves shuffled, and Pinky forced himself to take a deep breath. He was scaring her with all these questions, so he nuzzled her between the eyes in apology. Still, his heart raced with panic. 

From the top of the hill, he saw thick, gray clouds rolling in from the mountains. The temperature was dropping fast. 

An early winter would be upon them. They had to find Papa quickly. 

“Please, Pharfignewton. We’ve gotta find him,” Pinky pleaded. 

She whinnied in agreement, and galloped into the strange forest with all its dangerous, twisted branches before Pinky had a chance to settle in his usual spot at the base of her neck. 

Don’t worry, Papa. I’m on my way. 

End AN: Well, this is beast is complete (no pun intended). 

Yeah, poor Pinky’s usual charm doesn’t really work here. Poor mouse. 

Slappy is fun to write, not gonna lie. Love her cartoony antics. She’s also led quite the interesting life in this AU. 

The reason Snowball didn’t show up sooner was because I wasn’t sure how to tweak the proposal scene to fit. Cause for one thing, Snowball is way smarter than Gaston, but just as arrogant to boot. So I changed Snowball’s motivation into marrying Pinky because it will help him gain a higher title than a prince. He doesn’t actually love Pinky in this AU, but he’s very annoyed at him for that stunt with the mud puddle (though it’s accidental on Pinky’s part rather than intentional like Belle’s). 

The reason Snowball doesn’t go seeking a princess’s hand to gain the kingship is cause he tried that already. It was Billie of a nearby kingdom. It didn’t go well. 

Also yes the village is named ACME Village because I’m lazy and can’t come up with anything better. 

[mallowstep]

We're gunna make a Reedwhisker fan of you yet XD (I kid, I kid. )

fsdajk;sd the dynamic between him, hawk, moth, and frog is very fun. it's not that i have anything against reed it's just hie's appealing because of his relationships but like.

oh man. there's something about this. complex relationship between all the parties that's so fun to sink my teeth into. feathertail and stormheart as his older siblings, frog, moth, and hawk as his older cousins who are close enough they get grouped together but old enough that reedpaw is painfully aware of it and.

reedpaw being born after everything happens, but being deeply linked to it,

it's just such an interesting network to pull apart. like some things i've referenced but haven't explained in detail

reedkit is in the nursery for about a moon with frogkit, hawkkit, and mothkit, which means he doesn't really remember it, and they remember him as tiny baby

mothpaw, frogpaw, and hawkpaw are and aren't aware of mistyfoot as their birth mother. it's complicated

mothpaw referenced "the last time mistyfoot and stonefur argued about feathertail," but didn't finish the story -- i don't know what Exactly happened because sometimes i don't know, but the end result was mistyfoot being irritable for like half a moon, which is not great when she's the deputy. she doesn't take anything out on the apprentices, mothpaw just doesn't want to deal with her in a bad mood.

feathertail likes stones, mistyfoot favours shells, there's a clear distinction in trinkets they possess.

stonefur keeps a lot of the specifics of tigerclan away from frogpaw, mothpaw, and hawkpaw. they're smart enough to put a lot together, but they're also kids, and not everyone is that considerate.

i couldn't have her say it directly without reedwhisker overhearing and giving the game away, but mistyfoot and blackclaw have fought about hawkfrost, mothwing, and frogheart in the past. she pointed out that if he wanted to repair things so badly, he could have been kind to them.

after they settle into the lake territories, mistyfoot starts making deeper connections with them. it starts with -- well it starts with the great journey, but it becomes explicit over frogheart's warrior ceremony.

mothwing isn't really interested in reconnecting, at least at this point in time. frogheart is the most interested, and hawkfrost is dealing with a lot of shit, but doesn't know what he wants.

stonefur isn't sure if reedwhisker is talking about primrosepaw, pikepaw, and perchkit, or mothwing, frogheart, and hawkfrost when he starts with my siblings.

feathertail is actually the least interested in explaining everything to reedwhisker. if he asked her, she'd brush him off. she couldn't explain why, though.

(she has really complicated feelings about reedwhisker in general, most of which she can't verbalize. even though he's younger than her kits, he doesn't feel like a kit she could have raised, but he kind of looks at her like she's a cat who could have raised him, y'know?)

[ff1974lain]

Argus Reed Frog - African Reed Frogs.

[stormielikeweather]

We’re Going on a Frog Hunt!

We’re going on a frog hunt

A oneshot - Rin and Shippo have a big frog race coming up, but Rin has no frog! Mom and Dad to the rescue! Lots of Sesshomaru Dad! moments and Kagome Mom! moments. Cheers!

For the BigBang 2021: Theme - Spring

Thank you to @goldie-fawn for their patience. This is short but it took me forever. :”D Check out the super cute art that GoldieFawn made!!!  Squeeeeee!

Mud sloshed up Rin's shoes as she raced along the little stream beside the school. The other kids were in front of her, scanning the soggy bank with keen eyes. 

Everyone had on their rain gear, all shiny colorful coats and hats. 

Rin slapped her hand over her hat to keep it from flying off as she ran to catch up with the others.

She could hear the frogs ribbiting loudly. The last frost only days before, the frogs had just come out of hibernation. 

They had watched a video about it in class. The loudest ones were males trying to impress lady frogs. There must have been a lot of guy frogs sleeping through winter because they were loud!

"I got one! I got one!" Yelled one of the taller boys from her class. He held up the squirming frog high above his head like a trophy. 

"I got one too!" 

"Yay! Look at mine!" 

"Mine's going to win for sure!" 

As her classmates began to catch them a sense of urgency bubbled inside Rin. Maybe there wouldn't be one left for her to catch! 

"I got one! Check out his long legs!" 

"W-Woah!" Rin stumbled over a rotten log, landing on her butt. "Ow..." Mud stuck her pants, but she didn't care. 

Two large yellow eyes blinked at her, and she blinked right back. 

Her hands felt ready. She sucked in a breath, extended her fingers to go for a solid grab. 

"This one's mine!" The bigger girl knocked Rin's hands away and took the frog for herself. 

"Hey!" Rin shouted, "I found it first! That one's mine!" 

“Oh boo hoo!” The girl rolled her eyes, "Go cry about it to your Mom! Oh, wait," She sneered, "You don't have a Mom to whine to!" She stuck her tongue out.

Rin's jaw clenched. Fists balled in the mud. Before she could defend herself someone shouted behind her.

"Woah, that's the biggest frog I've ever seen!" The boy ran over, shouting back at the others, "Hey check out this one Mei found! It's huge!" 

“It’s Frogzilla!”

Excitedly the group circled the girl that had taken her frog. Rin shoved off the ground. 

"Hey, Rin!" Shippo bounded over as she wiped the mud from her pants. 

"I don't really want to talk right now, Shippo. I need to find a frog for the frog race tomorrow." Not that she hadn't already found the perfect one. She glared at Mei's smug grin.

"That's what I came to talk to you about! I caught two! Want one?" He grinned, holding out one of the frogs he'd caught. The puny frog blinked back at her. His stubby legs squirming.

"I..." 

"Hahaha! Look! Rin can't even find her own frog!" Mei pointed right at her. "What a loser!" 

"I am not!" She snapped. She knocked Shippo's hand away, the frog leaped up into the air and splashed back into the pond. "No, wait!" She dove to catch it, but it was long gone. She landed with an oomph! "Shippo,” she looked up at him from her place on the muddy bank, “I'm sorry!"

"It's just a frog," Shippo shrugged, "What do you care what they think anyway? You know you can catch one yourself." He held out his free hand and helped her up.

She clenched her jaw, "It's just that Mei makes me so mad!"

“She makes everyone mad, don’t take it personally.”

Rin looked over at the crowd surrounding the selfish brat, “It sure doesn’t look like everyone is mad at her, Shippo. It looks like they all love her. They think she is awesome.”

Suddenly the light misty air filled with thick heavy rain. 

“Students! Time to come inside! Put your frogs in your buckets for tomorrow!”

Rin looked over at Shippo, panic-stricken. Her large brown eyes near tears, “What am I going to do!? I don’t have a frog!”

“Rin! Shippo! Come inside!” Their teacher called from the door as the last of their classmates scrambled inside. 

“Sorry Rin,” He looked down at his frog as it hopped and splashed inside his small bucket, “I don’t mind sharing with you.”

“It’s a race.” Rin sulked, “We can’t share and race against each other.” 

“Rin! Shippo! Don’t make me come get you!” The teacher scowled, “Get inside! Now!”

With a heavy sigh, Rin trudged toward the school building. Shippo alongside her. 

That night, Rin felt restless. 

She watched out the living room window as the rain came down in sheets. 

Her lip worried between her teeth. 

She jumped at the sudden sound of the doorbell.

Her father’s long strides moved toward the door and she found herself peeking from around the corner of the hall. 

“Kagome?” Her father’s amber’s eyes lit up at the sight of their neighbor. “What brings you here?” He cleared his throat and opened the door wider, “Come in out of the rain.”

Kagome stepped inside, and Rin immediately noticed the green polkadotted rainboots and forrest green rain coat. Their eyes met across the hall, and Kagome grinned at her. “Well, a little fox told me that someone here wanted to catch a frog.”

“A fox you say?” Sesshomaru’s brow rose. He gently shook his head with a chuckle as he caught sight of Shippo right outside. His bright orange and white raincoat stood out in the night. His rainhat had little triangle fox ears. “Perhaps this fox should come inside?”

“So,” Sesshomaru looked at his neighbor and her son, “What is this about catching frogs?”

Shippo told him what happened earlier that day. The man’s ears tipped red with anger for his daughter’s sake. 

Sesshomaru reached out for Rin, “Come here Rin.” 

“Daddy!” She rushed into his arms, tears pouring down her cheeks as she let him comfort her. His chest felt warm and she buried her face above his heart, where it always felt safe. Her hands balled into fists and she let herself cry out the frustration and indignation that she had been trying to hide.

He held her head in his palm as he leaned back to look at her distraught little face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shook her head and clenched her eyes shut, “I didn’t want to.”

“Why didn’t you want to?” 

“It’s humiliating...” She muttered under her breath, “I can get my own frog. I don’t need help.” She looked away from the intensity of his gaze, “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Sesshomaru hugged her tighter then. His little girl. “It is my job to worry for you. Understand?”

When she didn’t respond, he reiterated and she nodded silently.

Kagome’s small but warm hand met Rin’s back, sweeping her hair aside as she gently rubbed soothingly. “Rin, sweetheart, we know you can get your own frog.” 

“Yeah,” Shippo rocked on his heels with a huff of doubt, “I mean I don’t know if you can find one as big as Frozilla, but you can definitely catch a frog.” 

Rin growled, her fists tight as she pulled out of her father’s grasp and narrowed her gaze at her so called friend, “I can so catch a bigger frog than Frogzilla!”

Shippo smirked, “Sure ya can.”

As the children bickered, Kagome and Sesshomaru exchanged a glance and a grin. 

Rin shouted, “I have to get my raincoat and boots on first Shippo!”

“Fine!” Shippo groaned.

Kagome laughed, swinging her umbrella back and forth as she looked up at Sesshomaru.

He had both hands in his pockets and gently rocked back and forth. Rarely did she get to see his ling silver hair loose. It hung over his shoulders as he moved. 

She took a step toward him, her smile faltering as a moment of insecurity broke free, “Are you still sure about Friday?” 

Sesshomaru’s dark brows rose, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She glanced back at their arguing children, and back at him, “You know, if things go well...”

“What?” He closed the distance. “Your son and my daughter will pick at eachother everyday?” His grin, as charming as ever. His head dipped low and his whisper warmed her cold ear, “I could only be so lucky for things to go well.” He kissed her cheek then and leaned back, “I should go put on my raingear.”

Her fingers caressed the place on her cheek where he pressed his lips. Blushing. “W-wait,” She took a breath, her heart fluttering in her chest, “You’re coming too?”

Sesshomaru smirked as he worked his hair into the band he’d had on his wrist, “Of course, don’t you know that I am the Lord of Frog Catching?”

Kagome’s brows rose, “The Lord of Frog Catching?”

“Really, daddy?”

“Seriously!?” Shippo’s green eyes gleamed, “That is so cool! Mom you haven’t won any titles have you?”

“Not for frog catching...”

Shippo snicked, but Rin came to her defence, “She could if she had the opportunity. Daddy was a part of a competition that your mom wasn’t, right daddy?”

Sesshomaru nodded, “Right you are, Rin.”

Kagome rolled her eyes, “Pft. Sure.”

“I’ll have you know I caught a frog when i was a boy and it followed me around for three years.” 

“Oh really?” Kagome scoffed, “What was it’s name then?”

“Jaken.” 

“Jaken? What was it, evil?”

Sesshomaru cocked his head and nodded slowly, “It was a very nastly little frog.” 

Shippo burst into laughter, “Your dad is weird, Rin!”

“Daddy! Stop, you’re embarrassing me...” Rin flushed. The floppy yellow hat atop his head didn’t help her embarrassment. Her nose scrunched as he slipped into a big yellow raincoat and matching boots. 

“How do I look?” He did a turn and placed one hand on his hip for his daughter’s mortification and Kagome’s enjoyment. 

“Fabulous.” Kagome tapped his hat making it drop over his eyes, “Let’s go catch some froggies!” 

“Yay!” Both Rin and Shippo cheered.

Outside the rain had slowed to a light sprinkle. Kagome held the buckets, a smile planted on her face while Sesshomaru’s deep voice overtook the sound of the storm and the resounding ribbits of the frogs coming out to mate. 

Sesshomaru squatted between their kids, a hand on each of their shoulders as they all tucked between the thick reeds at the edge of the stream's bank.

He looked so natural in any element, whether in the office or out in the rain hunting frogs. His button down and tie hidden beneath sun-yellow rain gear. The man could make anything look good. 

She joined them. Her feet crunched twigs and earned her a look from all three of them. “Oops?”

“Quiet, mom.” Shippo whispered.

Sesshomaru visibly preened. “Proper frog hunting etiquette requires stealth.” He dropped his hands and slowly spread the tall grasses. “Watch.” 

The children were quiet. Their movements purposeful as all three of them dipped their noses into the tall grass and peered at the contents. 

"Frog!" Rin squealed in delight before slapping her hand over her mouth, "sorry," She whispered with a wince.

Her shoulders fell as she noticed the frog gone.

"It's okay, Rin." Sesshomaru gave her a gentle pat. 

”That frog was pretty small anyway, you said you were gonna find a big one remember?” 

Rin pinched her lips at Shippo. “I will find a really big one.”

Sesshomaru had moved farther up the bank. As he spread the tall grasses, a large rock lay at his feet. “Rin. Shippo. Come quickly.”

The children shuffled close. 

He looked at them with serious eyes. 

Kagome had seen the same look on his face as he went over his files at the dining table. She had come by to pick up Shippo and the door had been unlocked. He had been so engrossed with the paperwork, he hadn’t heard her knocking. She found herself wondering if he took everything so seriously... and if that meant he took asking her out just as seriously as everything else. 

“When I lift this stone, you must move quickly.” 

The children each nodded their little chins, their gazes just as serious as Sesshomaru’s. 

When he lifted the stone, Rin gave a shriek. 

“Woah, cool!” Shippo gasped, reaching out for the slimy creature. 

“Fasinating.” Sesshomaru mused as he dropped the large rock back to the ground. 

Kagome stepped over clumps of grass and mud. “What is it?”

Shippo turned her way, holding it up like a puppy. “A salamander! Cool isn’t it!?” His wide toothy grin made her smile. “It’s way slipperier than I expected!” He shouted, “want to touch it?!”

Rin backed away, “Gross, no way!”

Sesshomaru reached out and brushed his fingers over the large black creature’s wide head. 

It squirmed. 

“Find a good place to set him back free, Shippo.” 

Her son pouted, “Aw, but I want to keep him.”

“Salamanders don’t make good pets Shippo.”

“Yeah, they are too gross. Get rid of it.” Rin grimmaced. 

“They are not,” He frowned, “This guy’s really cool.” He turned pleading eyes on his mother, “Mom, can you please take a picture?”

“Of course I can,” She shifted the buckets in her hands and pulled out her phone, “Alright, everyone get in the picture!”

Rin began to back away again, but Sesshomaru pulled her close enough to get in the picture. 

Kagome laughed, “Say cheese!”

Shippo and Sesshomaru complied, but Rin was too busy side eyeing the salamander to smile. 

As soon as Kagome lowered her phone the little girl complained, “Can we get back to frog hunting now?” 

“What’s with the sour face, Rin?” Her dad gave her a gentle nudge, “Too serious for fun tonight?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “This is a very serious problem I have daddy.”

“Of course it is. Come here,” He grabbed her up and she squealed, kicking her legs. 

“Daddyyyyy!”

He put her on his shoulders, “Better get an eagle eye on it.” He held her legs to keep her steady.

As soon as she settled, she giggled, “Do you really think I can spot frogs from way up here?” 

“The really big frogs you can.” 

Her grin turned serious as she nodded, “Right.”

Shippo and Kagome watched the salamander slide back into the water. 

“Cute little guy wasn’t her?” She grinned.

“Super cute.” Shippo nodded, “And super cool. I’m going to put the picture on my desk in my room.”

“Good idea.” 

She helped him back up the bank and they followed Sesshomaru and Rin along the stream.

Shippo studied his mother. She looked what his great grandfather called googoo eyed. “Mom?”

“Yeah?” She turned, a light flush to her cheeks from the hiking. 

He pressed his lips together, “Do you like Rin’s dad?”

Kagome paused. “He seems like a good person, don’t you think so?” 

She waited with bated breath as he took a moment to think. Unable to relax until his little chin nodded and he offered a smile. “Yeah. He is weird, but so is Rin, and she’s my best friend.” 

“They are a little weird aren’t the,” She laughed, hugging him by the shoulders as they continued forward “Then again, maybe we are a little weird too, don’t ya think?”

“Speak for yourself.” Shippo scoffed. 

“Hey! Shippo! Kagome!” Rin yelled, “We are going to turn over another big rock!” She pointed down the bank, “Over there!”

When they made it to the small boulder, Kagome’s eyes widened, “are you sure you can lift this one, sesshomaru?”

As if to proof her point, the kids climbed on top of it, giggling. 

He stiffened, “You think I am so weak as to not be capable of lifting a simple stone?”

“That thing isn’t a stone, it’s huge!” 

He rolled his eyes, “Children, remove yourselves.”

“Okay!” 

Rin rubbed her hands together, “I bet this frog is going to be ginormous!”

“Ready yourselves.” He pressed his lips together and placed both hands around the sides of the boulder. 

Kagome winced, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I. Am. Not. So. Weak.” He clenched his teeth as the boulder came free from the ground. 

“Wow, your dad is like superman!” Shippo looked at him with awe. 

“I know.” Rin bragged, “He’s the strongest person alive!”

Unconvinced, Kagome grabbed both children by the collars, “Wait for him to tilt it a bit, you don’t want to get crushed if he drops it.”

His glare didn’t deter her. “Fine.” He grunted as the boulder dropped to it’s side. “There.”

The children rushed in. “Frogs!” The frogs began hopping up the bank quickly. Rin and Shippo gave chase. 

Sesshomaru’s hand went to his side. 

“Pulled a muscle?”

“Of course not.” His eyes clenched shut as he took a step forward, and Kagome bit the ‘I told you so’ on the tip of her tongue. 

“Let me help.” 

Amber eyes cast her a cold look, “There is nothing to help. I am fine.”

She rubbed her hands together quickly. “Nonsense.” 

He winced as she slid her hands inside his rain coat and pressed her palms against his aching side. They had never been so close before. She couldn’t help but admire the length of his dark lashes as he stared into her eyes.

“No need to admit anything.” She grinned up at him. 

For a moment he simply looked back at her silently. His heart beating fast in his chest. Her hands firm yet gentle against him. “Actually,” He whispered, “it is quite sore.” 

“Is it?” Her eyes glittered with both warmth and mirth. She kneaded, “Does this seem to be helping?” 

“It is.” 

“Daddy! Look!” Rin bounded over. 

Kagome stepped back, leaving Sesshomaru’s side cold. 

Sesshomaru looked cool as a cucumber, but her face pounded with heat.

Rin held up a fat frog with thick legs, “I’m going to call him Frogculese!”

“I got... one too!” Shippo gasped, doubled over as he caught his breath. “He was really... fast and hard... to... catch!”

“You already have a frog, Shippo!” Rin reminded him. 

“I’ll...let that one... go!” 

Kagome handed off each bucket, “Good job! One of you are sure to win the race tomorrow.”

“I’m totally going to win!” Rin grinned from ear to ear, “Frogculese is the best!”

“You’ll probably beat Mei, but you won’t beat me and Kanakero!” Shippo held the handle of his bucket close to his chest, looking down at his frog as it tried to hop up the sides and failed. 

“You will both do well.” Sesshomaru patted them each on the head, 

“Daddy!” Rin groaned, fixing her hat. 

Shippo preened. 

The next day each child came home with a big yellow ribbon. And that Friday, Kagome and Sesshomaru had a first date that went very well. 

[reluctant-mandalore]

🎃Mandoctober🎃 Day 7: Razor Crest

Being an on board mechanic for the Mandalorian had its ups and downs; both figuratively and quite literally. After crash landing, you decide to question your armored employer on why he doesn’t want to replace the ship. 

Warnings: Um. nothing really? I guess just fluff. maybe like a ever so small pinch of yearning. But you gotta look for it. 

Word Count: 1,465

Pairing: Mando x Gender Neutral Reader (also reader is a mechanic yay)

a/n: Yes we’re still playing catch up lol. But here’s day 7! 

---

The Razor Crest was old, and when you had first set sights on it, you thought for sure that the Mandalorian was playing a trick on you. There was no way that he was using such an old ship for picking up bounties. Even after accepting the job and boarding the spacecraft, you still hadn’t quite believed him. It wouldn’t be until after the take off, that you were truly convinced that he was being serious about using this ship for your travels.

Not really trusting of the ship’s ability to stay a flight forever, you had a feeling that at some point you would be dealing with a crash landing. As an on flight mechanic for hire, you had experienced many crash landings in your time, with many ships that were much newer than that of the Razor Crest. So, when it had finally happened you weren’t surprised in the slightest, if anything it gave you more reason to hound on Mando to replace his ship sooner.

“Can it be fixed?” The Mandalorian had asked, while you were taking a look over the ship after the crash.

“Yes,” You said, wiping some of the oil off your hands on an old rag, “but we should really consider investing in a new ship, ya know?”

“No.”

“Oh come on Mando!” You said with a pout, “The Razor Crest is so old, I’m surprised it's even still flying.”

He had huffed, and folded his arms across in his chest in a defensive stance, a common response that you were beginning to notice from him. “It still works just fine-”

“-Mando we crash landed.” You said, cutting him off before he could finish, “The Razor Crest should be retired—it’s old and the fact it is still around is a miracle.”

“We only crashed because of us being shot at and chased,” He said, trying to double down on his point, “Otherwise it would have completely been fine.”

Mando’s reply had made your eyes roll, and you decided to just drop the conversation for now. He could be so stubborn when he wanted to be, and arguing with the person who paid you probably wasn’t the best decision to make.

“Anyway, it’ll take me a day or two to fix it. Depends on if we can find the right parts.”

“Alright, I can give you some credits for the parts.”  He said, beginning to relax once more, “ And remember no-”

“-No droids.” You smirked at him, “I won’t use any droids, don’t you worry your pretty metal head about it.”

Feeling satisfied with your reply, Mando had given you a nod of his head before leaving you to get to work, the small child in his care trailing close behind him. The little one had even given you a wave as they left, which made you smile and wave in return, before you got to work on the Razor Crest.

The rest of your day was spent getting parts, and doing your best fix up the ship. Every now and then, Mando would come to see how you were doing, asking if you needed anything before he would leave you alone again. Around lunch time, he had brought you some food, and you sat down with the child to eat, while his dad had gone off to have his own meal privately.

 Past all the stubbornness and aloofness, Mando treated you well, and he was probably one of the best employers you had ever worked for. This kindness from him was one of the many reasons you had decided to continue to work for him—ancient ship and all. He and the child made you feel like you belonged somewhere. They made you feel like you belonged alongside them, and that was a feeling you hadn’t really known until meeting them. As crazy as it may seem, you felt at home with them. Sometimes, you even felt as if you were a family.

When the sky had finally begun to change from a brilliant blue to a soft orange, you knew it was time to start considering packing up for the night. There wasn’t anything particularly bad with working in the darkness, but you definitely preferred sleeping over working at night. A lot of progress had been made on the repairs anyway, and Mando most likely wouldn’t mind you leaving the rest till tomorrow.

Grabbing some of the tools you could carry easily, you had walked back around to the opened hatch of the ship. On your way inside, you were met with the sight of the Mandalorian and his son enjoying the little bit of daylight that was left.

The beskar covered man sat on the ramp to the ship, watching as the child ran after a frog he spotted in the long reeds. The sight of it had brought a smile to your face, and after putting away the tools in your hands, you made your way over to sit next to your traveling companion. At first the two of you had both just sat in silence, allowing for the evening sunlight to warm your skin However, all too soon your curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself itching to get to know more about your mysterious employer once again.

“So, what’s the real reason you won’t replace the Razor Crest?”

The question had surprised the man next to you, and he gave you a small glance before looking back towards the child playing. He had hummed in response at first, trying to come up with a reasonable answer to what was asked of him. His mind trying to piece together the appropriate words for the thoughts which ran through his mind.

“Well…” Mando had said before pausing again, unsure of if he should even answer, but doing so anyway, “Well, I guess it’s because the Razor Crest is kind of a home for me by this point.”

“Oh…” You said, barely audible above a whisper. “I guess it is kind of like a home for all of us, huh?”

“All of us?”

Instantly, you had felt a heat spread across your skin at his reply, a burning sensation of embarrassment rushing through you all at once. As per usual, your choice of wording would be the death of you, and you began to panic while trying to find a way to escape this now awkward conversation.

“Welp! I better put everything away.” You said, a nervous laugh leaving you soon after,  “Don’t want to leave the rest of the tools out all night!”

Hurriedly, you had stood, quickly dusting off your pants, as you mentality slapped yourself for saying something so dumb without any thought. You seemed to have that problem around the Mandalorian, constantly getting choked up, and saying things that should be kept to yourself.

The Razor Crest wasn’t your home. It was their home and you were just a guest staying with them, so you could fix it when needed. Not even a guest—you were an employee. Just someone that the Mandalorian had hired to look after his ship. Who were you to think of them as family?

“I’m glad you consider it your home,” He said suddenly, making you pause mid-step to turn to look at him again. “You and the kid are like family, and are the only reason I can call the Razor Crest home.”

His sudden confession had made you blink in surprise at him, and soon a small smile had spread across your warm cheeks. He had continued to look off into the distance at the setting sun, avoiding your gaze, as you made your way over. Only a few steps closer was all you really needed to lean down to press a kiss to the side of his helmet, the metal feeling cool against your lips, and leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. The kiss was brief, only long enough to grab his attention before you were pulling back again to look at him with a wide grin.

“I see you as family as well, and I’m glad to share a home with you too.” You had said, before leaving him with those final words, turning and walking off to go continue your clean up, a lovestruck smile plastered to your cheeks the entire time.

The Mandalorian had watched you go, his eyes never leaving your form until you were completely out of his line of sight. An unseen blush had consumed his skin by this point, leaving him feeling warm underneath his armored layers. There was no way he was going to replace the ship now. The Razor Crest was where you all belonged, a place where you all could come back to without question, but most importantly; the Razor Crest was home.

---

Tags: 

@ah-callie​ @readsalot73​ @starrywatermelon​ @karnita-mexicana​

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 12 paragraph viii

Only here’s what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can’t be trusted—? What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one willfully and in a cloud of unspeakable radiance away from health, domesticity, civic responsibility and strong social connections and all the blandly-held common virtues and instead straight towards a beautiful flare of ruin, self-immolation, disaster? Is Kitsey right? If your deepest self is singing and coaxing you straight toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? Stop your ears with wax? Ignore all the perverse glory your heart is screaming at you? Set yourself on the course that will lead you dutifully towards the norm, reasonable hours and regular medical check-ups, stable relationships and steady career advancement, the New York Times and brunch on Sunday, all with the promise of being somehow a better person? Or—like Boris—is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name? It’s not about outward appearances but inward significance. A grandeur in the world, but not of the world, a grandeur that the world doesn’t understand. That first glimpse of pure otherness, in whose presence you bloom out and out and out. A self one does not want. A heart one cannot help. Though my engagement isn’t off, not officially anyway, I’ve been given to understand—gracefully, in the lighter-than-air manner of the Barbours—that no one is holding me to anything. Which is perfect. Nothing’s been said and nothing is said. When I’m invited for dinner (as I am, often, when I’m in town) it’s all very pleasant and light, voluble even, intimate and subtle while not at all personal; I’m treated like a family member (almost), welcome to turn up when I want; I’ve been able to coax Mrs. Barbour out of the apartment a bit, we’ve had some pleasant afternoons out, lunch at the Pierre and an auction or two; and Toddy, without being impolitic in the least, has even managed to let casually and almost accidentally drop the name of a very good doctor, with no suggestion whatever that I might possibly need such a thing.

[As for Pippa: though she took the Oz book, she left the necklace, along with a letter I opened so eagerly I literally ripped through the envelope and tore it in half. The gist—once I got on my knees and fit the pieces together— was this: she’d loved seeing me, our time in the city had meant a lot to her, who in the world could have picked such a beautiful necklace for her? it was perfect, more than perfect, only she couldn’t accept it, it was much too much, she was sorry, and—maybe she was speaking out of turn, and if so she hoped I forgave her, but I shouldn’t think she didn’t love me back, because she did, she did. (You do? I thought, bewildered.) Only it was complicated, she wasn’t thinking only of herself but me too, since we’d both been through so many of the same things, she and I, and we were an awful lot alike—too much. And because we’d both been hurt so badly, so early on, in violent and irremediable ways that most people didn’t, and couldn’t, understand, wasn’t it a bit… precarious? A matter of self-preservation? Two rickety and death-driven persons who would need to lean on each other quite so much? not to say she wasn’t doing well at the moment, because she was, but all that could change in a flash with either of us, couldn’t it? the reversal, the sharp downward slide, and wasn’t that the danger? since our flaws and weaknesses were so much the same, and one of us could bring the other down way too quick? and though this was left to float in the air a bit, I realized instantly, and with some considerable astonishment, what she was getting at. (Dumb of me not to have seen it earlier, after all the injuries, the crushed leg, the multiple surgeries; adorable drag in the voice, adorable drag in the step, the arm-hugging and the pallor, the scarves and sweaters and multiple layers of clothes, slow drowsy smile: she herself, the dreamy childhood her, was sublimity and disaster, the morphine lollipop I’d chased for all those years.)

But, as the reader of this will have ascertained (if there ever is a reader) the idea of being Dragged Down holds no terror for me. Not that I care to drag anyone else down with me, but—can’t I change? Can’t I be the strong one? Why not?] [You can have either of those girls you want, said Boris, sitting on the sofa with me in his loft in Antwerp, cracking pistachios between his rear molars as we were watching Kill Bill. No, I can’t. And why can’t you? I’d pick Snowflake myself. But if you want the other, why not? Because she has a boyfriend? So? said Boris. Who lives with her? So? And here’s what I’m thinking too: So? What if I go to London? So? And this is either a completely disastrous question or the most sensible one I’ve ever asked in all my life.] [That little guy, said Boris in the car on the way to Antwerp. You know the painter saw him—he wasn’t painting that bird from his mind, you know? That’s a real little guy, chained up on the wall, there. If I saw him mixed up with dozen other birds all the same kind, I could pick him out, no problem.] And he’s right. So could I. And if I could go back in time I’d clip the chain in a heartbeat and never care a minute that the picture was never painted. To try to make some meaning out of all this seems unbelievably quaint. Maybe I only see a pattern because I’ve been staring too long. But then again, to paraphrase Boris, maybe I see a pattern because it’s there. [Do you ever think about quitting? I asked, during the boring part of It’s a Wonderful Life, the moonlight walk with Donna Reed, when I was in Antwerp watching Boris with spoon and water from an eyedropper, mixing himself what he called a “pop.” Give me a break! My arm hurts! He’d already shown me the bloody skid mark—black at the edges—cutting deep into his bicep. You get shot at Christmas and see if you want to sit around swallowing aspirin! Yeah, but you’re crazy to do it like that. Well—believe it or not—for me not so much a problem. I only do it special occasions. I’ve heard that before. Well, is true! Still a chipper, for now. I’ve known of people chipped three-four years and been ok, long as they kept it down to two-three times a month? That said, Boris added somberly—blue movie light glinting off the teaspoon —I am alcoholic. Damage is done, there. I’m a drunk till I die. If anything kills me—nodding at the Russian Standard bottle on the coffee table—that’ll be it. Say you never shot before? Believe me, I had problems enough the other way. Well, big stigma and fear, I understand. Me—honest, I prefer to sniff most times—clubs, restaurants, out and about, quicker and easier just to duck in men’s room and do a quick bump. This way—always you crave it. On my death bed I will crave it. Better never to pick it up. Although—really very irritating to see some bone head sitting there smoking out of a crack pipe and make some pronouncement about how dirty and unsafe, they would never use a needle, you know? Like they are so much more sensible than you? Why did you start? Why does anyone? My girl left me! Girl at the time. Wanted to be all bad and self-destructive, hah. Got my wish. Jimmy Stewart in his varsity sweater. Silvery moon, quavery voices. Buffalo Gals won’t you come out tonight, come out tonight. So, why not stop then? I said. Why should I? Do I really have to say why? Yeah, but what if I don’t feel like it? If you can stop, why wouldn’t you? Live by the sword, die by the sword, said Boris briskly, hitting the button on his very professional-looking medical tourniquet with his chin as he was pushing up his sleeve.]

And as terrible as this is, I get it. We can’t choose what we want and don’t want and that’s the hard lonely truth. Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us. We can’t escape who we are. (One thing I’ll have to say for my dad: at least he tried to want the sensible thing—my mother, the briefcase, me—before he completely went berserk and ran away from it.) And as much as I’d like to believe there’s a truth beyond illusion, I’ve come to believe that there’s no truth beyond illusion. Because, between ‘reality’ on the one hand, and the point where the mind strikes reality, there’s a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic. And—I would argue as well—all love. Or, perhaps more accurately, this middle zone illustrates the fundamental discrepancy of love. Viewed close: a freckled hand against a black coat, an origami frog tipped over on its side. Step away, and the illusion snaps in again: life-more-than-life, never-dying. Pippa herself is the play between those things, both love and not-love, there and not-there. Photographs on the wall, a balled-up sock under the sofa. The moment where I reached to brush a piece of fluff from her hair and she laughed and ducked at my touch. And just as music is the space between notes, just as the stars are beautiful because of the space between them, just as the sun strikes raindrops at a certain angle and throws a prism of color across the sky—so the space where I exist, and want to keep existing, and to be quite frank I hope I die in, is exactly this middle distance: where despair struck pure otherness and created something sublime.

And that’s why I’ve chosen to write these pages as I’ve written them. For only by stepping into the middle zone, the polychrome edge between truth and untruth, is it tolerable to be here and writing this at all. Whatever teaches us to talk to ourselves is important: whatever teaches us to sing ourselves out of despair. But the painting has also taught me that we can speak to each other across time. And I feel I have something very serious and urgent to say to you, my non-existent reader, and I feel I should say it as urgently as if I were standing in the room with you. That life—whatever else it is—is short. That fate is cruel but maybe not random. That Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to bow and grovel to it. That maybe even if we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open. And in the midst of our dying, as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch. For if disaster and oblivion have followed this painting down through time—so too has love. Insofar as it is immortal (and it is) I have a small, bright, immutable part in that immortality. It exists; and it keeps on existing. And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.

[ordonianhero]

The Rat, the Wolf and the Lion

A LU short between Legend, Twilight and Warriors. Characters are from JOJO’s Linked Universe.

Authors notes: this is a one shot, so sorry for spelling and grammar. I wrote this out as quickly as my brain thought it.

Legend and Twilight set up a scheme to prank warriors in his sleep. >:)

———————————————————————

After a long day’s journey. The group settled camp along a crystal clear lake bed. It was teaming with fish and other wild life. Time and Twilight took it upon themselves to go gather up some fish for the group. Hyrule and wind gathered up wood for a camp fire. Legend spent some time going through their inventory, see if there was anything they may need if they were to come upon a village.

Warriors was showing Wind a few sparing sword moves. While Four was showing sky a few things about native plants and such. Wild was prepping to cook up whatever Time and Twilight brought back. Legend after some time sat down against a log watching Warriors and Wind. “Come to judge us pinky?” Chuckled Warriors as he flourished his sword at Wind. Legend snorted at Captain’s comment. “Wasn’t counting on it. Beside- you aren’t even worth putting rupees on, after the stunt I saw wind pull on Wild.” He snarkily replies. Wind laughed at the statement. Warriors smirked, “well at least I won’t be the one so easily spotted in battle. You’re one giant flag to anything near by.” Legend crosses his arms and huffed. He knew this would happen. Though Twilight had explained the look was temp and would fade over time.

Most of the group had gotten their giggles and jokes out. However warriors still find a way to jab him for it. Legend abruptly got up and went to go check on how the fishing was going. “Yeah well, whatever.” Wind could sense it was still a sensitive subject still. Warriors, paused for a second. He probably over stepped that one. He then was caught off guard as wind whacked him with the flat side of his sword.

Legend sat down hard beside twilight. Time looked over. “Everything okay there?” He asked cautiously. Legend said nothing. Time then let it go, Legend blood boiled with frustration. Twilight could feel Legend’s frustration radiating. Then suddenly as it was there, it seemed to disappear. The calming sounds of the water lapping the lake side. The frogs croaking, birds twittering away. Nature had calmed whatever fury was raging. “It’s beautiful out here.” Legend then spoke. Time nodded in agreement.

Twilight just smiled at Legend. “Sure is.” The the clouds in the sky started turning a purplish pink as the sun started going down. Twilight and Time had managed to successfully catch good amount of fish for dinner. They both stood up, but legend stayed seated. Time looked at Legend and then to twilight. “Here, I shall take our catch to the chef. You two can stick here.” Twilight nodded. He Carly handed over his catch and Time went off to give Wild the fish to cook.

Twilight folded up his rod. Tucking it into his pouch. Legend still sitting, let out a sigh. Then tosses a pebble into the water. Twilight looked around and found a flat stone and flung it in a way it skipped across the water. Before he took a seat beside Legend. “Show off.” Huffed legend. Twilight flinched. “Sorry.” He softly chuckled. Legend softly smiled. They then just sat in silence for a bit. Before Legend let out another, but softer sigh.

“So.” He spoke. “You said the hair color will fade sometime?” Twilight tore his gaze from the water and over at Legend. “Yeah. I mean- you weren’t under the crystal for long. So I am certain it will fade away.” Legend nodded. “Good, cause the captain won’t let up and I got nothing to tag him back with.” Legend sighed, plucking up another stone into the water. A near by by frog croaked.

Twilight shifted his sitting potion, bringing his knees up, feet flat to the ground and leaning back on his hands. “That can easily be fixed.” Legend looked over. “Oh no, you know what happened the last time you schemed rancher.” Legend replied, but he face went into a full smirk. “But, do go on.”

Twilight smiled back at Legend. “So, I was thinking, why not mess with him in his sleep.” Legend’s eyes grew wide and a evil grin stretched across his face. He turned his full body to face twilight. “Oh I like this Rancher. Let’s maybe stick his hand in warm water?” Replied legend. Twilight paused and tapped his chin, “classic, classic. But too simple.” They sat their quietly. Legend bent over with his to hands clasped together, resting his insect fingers to his lips. As he deeply thought. A cricket hopped between the two of them. Stopped. Rubbed its legs together and then hopped off.

“Ah ha!” Twilight states cheerfully with a finger in the air. Legend was slightly startled. A sly smirk splayed across twilight’s face. A look that wild has often worn when he is plotting something wild like. “So, how bout we take the night watch, before dawn. We set up a raft, place warriors on it, and set him out to wake up in the middle of the lake.” Legend was surprised, rancher sure knew some good plans. Assuming being around where he was from, the children of his village- he is not shocked.

“For being stoic rancher, you sure know some evil pranks. I like it.” Chuckled legend, crossing his arms. “What evil pranks?” Came a voice from behind them. There stood the captain. Twilight just smiled and stood up. “Oh, just a few stuff the village children played on me.” Legend smiled in returned. “Shocking, the rancher has some very clever pranksters.” Warriors raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Well uh the old man sent me to tell you two food is ready.”

“Oh good, I am ready to eat.” Smirked Twilight, patting the captain’s shoulder at he walked by. “Same.” Replied legend, as he was about to walk past Warriors. The Captain stopped him. “Look, sorry. I crossed a boundary and I shouldn’t have.” He said looking at Legend with an apologetic look. Legend softly smiled. “No worries. I need to learn to just go with it.” With that he walked on. Leaving warriors looking out at the beautiful sun set upon the lake. He then turned around and followed them back to camp.

Time handed twilight and legend their food as they sat together. He could see a look on the pups face that said Legend and him seem to have good talk. Warriors then came and sat over by Wind and Hyrule. The group all seem happily chattering away, then they all turned to talks of what the plan was for the next day. It then turned to who was to do first watch. “Ah Legend will take final watch together.” Twilight spoke. The group all looked at Twilight, “that’s a unique position for you. Often you like first watch.” Spoke Four. Twilight shrugged. “I don’t often sleep well. So I will just stay up with Legend. Two eyes before sun up.” Time wasn’t ganna argue with him on that. “Okay.”

Once everything was cleaned up. Twilight went off to do one last patrol for the night. He also took the time to find some good logs he could tie together and make a rafted into. He brought them back to Came to tie together. Time was taking first watch that night. Twilight looked at the camp, the rest of the guys had settled to sleep. Time raised an eyebrow at twilight and the logs. “What’s that for?” He asked quietly. “Hm, something to hopefully get me to be tired out.”

Twilight set the logs down in a way to make a small rafted. Time melted his ears and eyes out for enemies. Twilight worked quietly. Using reeds, weaving them into a rope like. Strong and sturdy. Before tying the logs together. Time was rather impressed with the pups random skills. Clearly some stuff learned from his own travels. Twilight then yawned and laid on top of the raft and falling asleep. Time chuckled and went back to his watch.

When it came to Legend’s time for watch. He was woken by sky. Then legend woke twilight. “Our turn.” He quietly spoke. Twilight shifted awake. His hair sticking out awkwardly. “Hm...okay. Let me get this raft to the water and test it out.” Legend nodded. Twilight scooped up the raft and took it to the lake. Legend made sure the camp fire was still going. Twilight quietly places the rafted in the water. He put his own weight on it. It differently wouldn’t sink and tying it together worked.

Twilight sat beside Legend and whispered. “Well he won’t sink at least” Legend chuckled quietly. They sat quietly and took on the watch. As it crept closer to dawn. That is when Twilight got up and quietly went over to warriors. Poked him. No movement. Sleeping beauty was sleeping dead beauty. Twilight scooped up the captain and carried him with his blanket to the raft.

He carefully set him down on the raft and tucked him in. Then kicking off his boots. He bent over and carefully pushed the raft out into the water. He stepped in and eased into the cool water pushing the raft out more. He then stopped And let the raft drift on its own. The watched it for a bit and smirked. He turned around and gently swam his way back to shore. He picked up his boots and made it back to camp where he dried off and sat across from Legend and smiled. Legend smirked tiredly.

As the sun came up, the group slowly stir awake. Legend and Twilight were released from watch. As members were awaking up it was Wind who took noticed warriors was missing. “Oi, where’d the Cap go? He bedding is gone too.” Twilight was busy helping pack up camp. Legend sat beside Four. Time upon hearing the Captain was missing looked about frantically. “Ah, sure he is fine. He may of went off to patrol,or something.” Legend states calmly. The camp then all went quiet as they hear the sound of a large splash and a scream from the lake.

The group all rain to the lake. As they arrived, warriors, drenched and dripping with water, was walking up to dry land. The look on his face was not one of amused. Time could see the raft that Twilight built that night. He shot Twilight and look. Twilight gave him a flustered look and smile. Legend let out a chuckle “good morning sleeping beauty. Wasn’t sure you would wake. So the water was the best alarm clock.”

The group then all laughed. Time eyes both Twilight and Legend, they could tell as much as he was furious with them, he also found it amusing. “Well let’s get you warmed up and fed.” Time states taking the wet bedding and fling it to twilight who caught it. Then lead warriors back to camp to get warmed up. “You two are on laundry duty for a week.” He states as he passes Twilight and Legend. Legend groaned and Twilight just chuckled “okay sir.”

Once everyone was fed and the Captain was dried off, They were ready to hit the road. They cleared up camp and off they went. Warriors walked up to Twilight and Legend and flung his arms around them both. “So, ah this was be a glorious sight of watching you two suffer as you do my laundry.”

“Ah it won’t bother me much. At least I had loads of practice with cleaning up soiled clothing from my days of caring for babies and children.” Chuckled twilight. Warriors huffed and pushed away Twilight. Legend laughed. “Whatever. Warriors huffed before walking off whipping his still damp scarf into Twilight’s face. Twilight and legend chuckled and tapped fists together.

~ fin.

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Twenty-Nine | Along the River ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Uchiha Sachiko ] [ Verse: River Runs Deep ] [ Blood, death ]

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He was barely a toddler when the raids came through. When houses burned, blood ran, and lives were lost. Among the fallen were his mother and father, leaving him only with his grandmother to raise him in her little house along a creek. Memories of that night were fogged, blurred...and only faded as he grew older.

By the time he is six years old, they are all but gone, knowing only his grandmother’s house and her love.

Little boys, however, are mischievous little things. And Obito is no exception. Inquisitive and daring, he often wanders around the woods behind the house, sitting at the very edge of the village. Animals and spirits alike scurry from his sight, sticks held like swords as he battles imaginary foes. And other times, he jumps around in the creek, catching frogs and salamanders, and sometimes even little fish!

But that’s not all that lurks in the water.

Sitting on a rather large rock along the bank one afternoon, he catches his breath, having just finished chasing a bullfrog. His bare feet are all muddy, the hems of his pants wet. Sachiko will surely scold him, but...he wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have. He had a frog to catch! Dazedly watching the sunlight warp and wiggle along the surface as it tumbles over some stones, Obito then slowly sits up straight.

...is...is that…?

Blinking large eyes, he stares at a gap in the rocks. It almost looks like there’s a face there...looking back at him from the water.

“...hullo…?”

Rippling with the flow of the water, the face...blinks!

It is a face…!

Forgetting his manners for a moment, Obito goes plunging back into the water to get a closer look. And as he does, the being’s eyes go wide...and it disappears.

“...huh?” Looking around, he searches for...whatever that was. “...hey! Come back!”

Behind him, unseen, the face peers around his previous perch, watching him silently as he goes rummaging around in the little rapids.

“Come back! I just wanna see ya! Where’d you go…?” He peers into crevices in the stones. All that looks back is a crawfish, clicking its pincers menacingly. “Aww…”

“...what do you want?”

“Yah!” Startled, Obito scurries forward, spinning around and bracing for a blow. But all he sees is the little face behind the rock. “...who are you?”

“I asked you first!”

He stares. This kid - girl? - has hair as white as snow. It curls about her ears like the white foam that gathers around the rocks. And the large, mirror-like silver eyes in her face are like a snake’s, pupils long and thin. Her ears are pointed, and the beginnings of moonstone horns - little more than nubbins at present - peek out from her temples. “I, uh...I thought I saw a person in the water! Was that you…?”

She nods. “Mhm. This is my river!”

At that, Obito frowns. “...river…? It’s barely even a creek!”

The girl’s cheeks puff in a pout. “That’s because I’m still little! See?” Out she comes from hiding, revealing she looks no bigger than himself, maybe even a little smaller. “I’m young for a river! But I’ll grow!” A finger points north. “My mother is over there...I branched off from her banks. Someday I’ll be just as big and strong as she is!”

“...uh…” Obito’s a little skeptical, but who is he to tell a river spirit what is and what isn’t? “Okay. So are you...a kami…?”

“Mhm! You can call me Ryū,” she offers.

“Do you have a shrine?”

At that, Ryū balks, suddenly pink with embarrassment. “N...no. Not yet…”

“But every kami needs a shrine! Are you really a kami without one?”

“O-of course I am!” she rebukes, stomping a foot and sending a huge splash outward, knocking Obito over to sit in the shallows. “Someday I’ll have a big shrine, and you’ll have to come pray to me for your fish and your water!”

Braced up on his palms, Obito stares up at her. Okay, so...she’s stronger than she looks. “O-okay! I...I didn’t mean t’make you mad. M’sorry. I’ve...never met a kami before. Just the little ones that run around in the bushes! Bāchan’s got a whole bunch of little houses for them in the garden!”

At that, Ryū perks up. “...she does?”

“Yeah! I leave ‘em candy sometimes.” Grimacing, he hauls himself to his feet, dripping. “Ehhh…” It’s gonna take forever for him to dry off!

Studying him for a moment, Ryū then claps her hands. At her beckoning, a whirlwind dances over the top of the water! With a few turns, it whips all of the water out of Obito’s clothes, his hair left standing on end.

Seeing as much, Ryū breaks out into giggles caught in her hands.

“...what?”

“N-nothing! But...you’re dry now!” Suddenly looking coy, she smiles behind her palms. “...I didn’t mean to knock you over.” Barefoot, she walks atop the water to where he stands, offering a hand.

Nervously, Obito takes it.

“Step up!”

“...huh?”

“Just do it!”

Looking unsure, he does as asked. And like a solid step, his foot rests atop the water. “...eh?!”

“Other foot, now!”

Gawking, Obito takes another step. He’s...he’s standing on the creek!

...river.

“Is...is this magic?”

“Mhm!” With a tug, she takes him back across, letting Obito step off onto dry land and ridding him of the last of the water. “There!”

“Er...thanks.”

“Be more careful next time you go splashing around for frogs, huh? You never know what might be in the water,” Ryū teases.

It’s Obito’s turn to pout. But he doesn’t really have a retort, either. “Okay, okay…”

With that, Ryū gently ushers him back toward the house where Sachiko begins calling him for lunch.

When Obito turns around, she’s already gone.

...that did really just happen...right?

At least he’s not wet and muddy anymore.

“There you are!” his grandmother greets as he steps back up into the house. “Catch any fish?”

“Nah...tried to get a bullfrog, but it got away.”

Sachiko chuckles, ruffling his wind-puffed hair. “Well, someday you’ll catch some. Then we’ll have fresh lunch, hm?”

“Hey, bāchan?”

“Yes, dear?”

“You believe in kami, right?”

“But of course!” The old woman points to the kamidana that looks out toward the entrance with a gnarled finger. “I still put out offerings for our house spirit. And whatever I can for the little ones in the garden.”

“There’s one in the creek, behind the house!”

At that, Sachiko’s eyes widen. “A river spirit…?”

“Yeah! She’s little, though. Like me!”

“I see…! Well, we’ll have to make her feel welcome, won’t we?”

“Mhm!”

With a little blade, Obito takes some branches from the forest, and begins to whittle in his spare time. More than once, he nicks his fingertips, having to stop and stuck on them to stop the bleeding. With little nails his grandmother gives him, he carefully starts constructing his very best attempt at a tiny little shrine. While he knows it’s nowhere near a proper one...well, they all have to start somewhere.

When it’s finished, he goes about settling it in the proper spot. Carefully wedging it protectively in a nest of stones, he stands back to let Ryū come up and take a closer look.

“...what is this…?”

“It’s a shrine!” He braces proud hands on his hips, looking smug. “I made it all by myself! With bāchan’s help.”

She just...stares at it.

...and Obito starts to get nervous.

“Do...you like it…?”

After a pause, she turns to him, chin trembling and eyes teary.

Obito stiffens. “Wh-? What’s wrong? Is it -?”

“It’s perfect!” she cuts in, leaping forward and latching onto him tightly, forcing him to spin slightly at her force to avoid falling over. Around them, a joyous wind eddies and ripples the water in an arc. Face hiding in her neck, she quietly mumbles, “...thank you.”

Above her, Obito’s cheeks tinge pink. “...y-you’re welcome.”

Every morning, he and Sachiko dutifully come out and leave an offering. To Obito’s surprise, Ryū never shows herself when the old woman is around. It’s only in front of the boy she emerges from the water, always miraculously dry.

“How come bāchan doesn’t get to see you?”

Sitting on one of the rocks by her shrine, Ryū hums. “...well...sometimes seeing a kami can be a bit, um...much for people. And I don’t want to frighten her.”

“You wouldn’t scare her!”

“...no,” Ryū agrees, still frowning. “...but it can still startle them. And it’s not good to startle old humans. It can make their heart go too fast. For you it’s okay, because your heart is young and your mind is open. Sachiko-bā’s mind is open, but...I’m afraid her heart might not do well, ne? So I want to be safe. Humans don’t live as long as we kami do.”

That makes Obito stiffen. In truth...he hasn’t ever given his grandmother’s mortality any thought. To him, she’s a constant. She’s always been here, so...surely she always will be!

...right?

“...but…?”

Seeing the conflict in the boy’s face, Ryū gently sighs. “...we river spirits can help with healing - water is the element of it, after all. I’ll do my best to help keep your grandmother healthy for as long as I can! But, Obito...all things have to pass eventually. It’s part of life, ne…?”

Frowning heavily, he wants to argue...but despite his young age, he also knows she’s right. He sits beside her, looking somber. “...yeah…”

She carefully leans against him. “Just make sure she drinks water from my river every day, ne? I’ll do all I can.”

“...thanks.”

Time, however, stops for no man and no kami. Seasons blend together, rising and falling as years begin to pass. Obito gets a little older, and a little older. Sachiko, however, hardly seems to change: sitting on the rear engawa and slowly fanning herself, looking over the water with a Buddha smile.

And it’s not just Obito that grows. With every passing wet season, the creek behind the house grows a little deeper, a little wider. Reeds grow along the banks, which Sachiko teaches Obito to weave into baskets to hold their food. Fish begin to swim in the currents, Obito spearing them for food whenever the weather is good, as well as finding freshwater clams and crawfish. And every evening, little glowing mushi float over the water, their light reflecting along the surface.

They, however, aren’t the only kami that start gathering by the river.

A kappa spoon shows up. Lurking in the waters, she watches the humans with her amber eyes. And every so often, an okuri inu wanders from his guarded path to drink from the banks.

Ryū welcomes them all. Like her waters, her physical form also matures. Taller, her silver-threaded white kimono grows with her, the patterns shifting and changing depending on her thoughts or mood. Her hair is longer, falling nearly to her tailbone: a mess of waves like her rapids. And the horns at her temple have grown, with several branches that curl out behind her head.

A few years later, Obito makes a second attempt at her shrine. This one is bigger, more refined, and set atop a stone slab he hauls in along the riverbank. Ryū still keeps the first one, nestled among other treasures beneath the water.

Even other villagers begin to make offerings. Sake and plum wine are poured into her currents with every harvest. She brings rains in the Spring, and cool winds in the Summer.

Life is peaceful.

...but peace rarely lasts.

At the elders’ requests, the boys begin to learn how to fight. Obito trains with blades and armor, often practicing his forms behind the house.

With doleful eyes, Ryū watches.

She still remembers how her mother’s waters would run red with blood when war swept over the land.

And like the turning of seasons, war once again falls upon them. The boys wait anxiously for the day it finds their village.

That is all they are: boys.

Children.

As Summer wanes, the fighting finds them. Samurai on horseback, intent on conquest, ride through and alight thatch roofs. Men who dare lift blades to them are cut down. Blood pools in the mud of the streets.

It all seems so hopeless.

“No...no!”

With every ounce of effort she can muster, Sachiko makes her way to the banks. In her arms, slack and unconscious, is Obito. Blood runs down his face...and horrible burns pucker his flesh.

“O-kami-sama...please! Don’t take my boy...don’t take what I have left! Please...please spare him…!” Stepping into the water, she brings his body with her. “Save him, I beg of you…!”

Emerging from the water, Ryū’s face is tightened with emotion. Water drips from her form, kimono heavy. “Obito…!”

“O-kami-sama…” Sachiko reaches a trembling hand, which Ryū gently takes. “Please…!”

Looking near tears, Ryū then turns to her friend. Carefully, she urges him further into the current, palms at his cheeks as he floats along the surface. A wind begins to eddy around them, the god’s eyes closed as she concentrates.

Around her, the water begins to shimmer, taking on an emerald hue. As it washes over the boy in her arms, his wounds begin to close, scarred and pink.

His eyes open, looking foggily up to her face. “...Ryū…?”

“Shh...you’re safe now…” Glancing aside, she motions to the kappa. “Hold him here.”

“Where are you going?”

Her silvers turn to steel. “...to finish this.”

Face slack, the kappa doesn’t argue, watching as the god approaches the bank.

Water brings life, washes wounds, and nurtures fields.

But so too can it drown.

Within moments, tumultuous storm clouds gather over the village, dark and rumbling. Lightning strikes, winds whipping. Torrents of rain begin to fall, dousing the flames. And as Ryū walks the street, forks of lightning find marks in the samurai’s iron armor. The god’s wrath washes over the village, scourging the invaders and leaving the villagers untouched. Screams of terror sound from the samurai, who scramble to retreat.

With a geyser-like hiss, Ryū shifts into her true form: a ribbon of white and silver scales, needle teeth bared in fury as claws dig into the earth beneath her.

“BEGONE!”

...then there is silence, broken only by the rain.

Staring out after the warriors, Ryū watches as the hiding villagers slowly reappear. Mourning cries begin to build for the fallen. Hands reach for the burned and broken buildings.

But those who survived will rebuild.

At each of the wounded, Ryū stops and does what she can. Many are saved. A few are still lost. Only once all are accounted for does the rain begin to ease, the clouds lightening and starting to scatter.

Returning to the river, she carefully brings Obito to the bank. Already the kappa has peeled away what remains of his armor, his body light.

“O-kami-sama…”

Turning her head to Sachiko, Ryū watches the human cry in relief, smiling as tears tumble down her face.

“Thank you...thank you.”

Softening, the god brings her snout to the old woman’s brow, carefully resting the cool scales against her skin.

“Ryū…?”

In a blink, Ryū retakes her human form, knelt and bringing Obito’s head to her lap. “It’s over. And I doubt they will return. Not knowing an angry god watches over this place.”

With a swaying, scar-marked hand, he reaches up to cup her cheek. “You saved me.”

“Of course,” is her soft reply. “You were my first friend...you built me my first shrine. You are forever nestled at the center of my heart, Obito.”

Smiling, he lets his eyes close, exhausting overtaking him.

For weeks, the village licks its wounds. Homes are rebuilt, graves dug, memories shouldered. And along the riverbank, a proper shrine is raised for their patron god. Dragons adorn every surface: painted, carved, and molded.

Standing within it, Ryū quietly takes in its beauty.

“Well...I think this one is better than either of mine.”

Turning, she alights as Obito enters. Still recovering, he leans heavily on a crutch. “They are all beautiful,” is her retort. “It’s not the appearance, but the intent. And yours were always the most heartfelt. So too is this one. But I will always treasure yours the most.”

Head ducking, he goes red.

“How are you wounds…?”

“Fine...I’m just sore. I’ll be all right. I was lucky.”

Her gaze drops at the memory of the fallen. “...it won’t happen again.”

“I know.”

Considering him for a moment, Ryū then crosses the floor to stand before him. “...you know, I wouldn’t be as I am if it weren’t for you.”

“Huh…?”

“You befriended me, and respected me. Believed in me. All kami need to be believed in and remembered, lest we disappear. Without you...perhaps I would have dried up. Faded away. But now...now I’ll flow for generations. And it all began with you.”

Now quite brightly blushing, Obito has no retort.

Allowing a smile, Ryū takes his cheeks in her hands, bowing his head to plant a kiss on his brow. “...thank you, Obito.”

“B-but -? I should be thanking you! You saved me, you -?”

“I did what I had to. What I wanted. It seems...we needed each other.” Her hands lower, taking his spare gently in her grip. “...and so...we will be together. Won’t we…?”

Looking a bit dumbfounded, Obito then softens and shuffles closer. “...yeah. We will.”

     This is depressingly late, but honestly I just...got too burnt out. Things I were trying weren’t working. So I gave up for a few days, let my brain rest. I THINK I can finish, now. One more free day for my choice, then another prompt from Meg, then we’re done! At least it’s not December, yet :’D      But anyway, some kami verse! I am...a huge sucker for this, okay. Japanese mythology is so interesting. I feel like maybe I don’t know enough to write this kind of thing perfectly well, but I try! It’s a bit like Obito’s bakeneko piece, but...reversed! lol      Anyway, gotta get some stuff done, but I’ma try to at least start another one tonight. We’ll see how it goes~ Thanks for reading!

[withaneye]

Frogs turned gay by the water. They are based on real froggos, cause I'm too uncreative to create my own fantasy froggies.

Asexual: Black rain frog

Demisexual: Purple frog

Demiromantic: Argus reed frog

Bisexual: Poison dart frog

Rainbow pride flag: Snowflake white's tree frog