#ask the nearest stray cat if you get lost

[themidnightgourmand]

Oh wow just hit 69 followers thank you, loves~

Welcome and enjoy your stay at the brainrot cafe✨️

[our-detective-so-supreme]

@sickficideas I couldn’t get this image out of my head either, so I wrote a short fic! (Hope that’s alright)

Even Even before opening his eyes, he knew it was going to be a long day. Fred reluctantly got out of bed and went about his morning routine despite the slight fever and overall discomfort.

As he descended the stairs to join everyone else at the table for breakfast, he grew more nauseous with each step. He thought about going back to bed, until he remembered he still had the garden to tend to. He decided he would do that, then get food when he did feel hungry.

It had rained overnight, so nothing outside needed watering. And the stray cats that usually came around that time didn’t care to get wet, so they wouldn’t be around for food for awhile, either. That just left everything in the greenhouse.

Normally this would only take him an hour or two, depending on what needed to be done. But at the rate he was going, with his ever growing aches from head to toe, it felt like far longer.

It was also normally hot and humid inside the greenhouse, yet here he was, unable to stop shivering. At a few points, his teeth were chattering! It wasn’t even that cold outside either! Fred pondered going back in the house for at least some tea, especially when he began coughing, which only irritated his throat more than it already was when he woke up.

The coughs would stop after awhile, long enough for him to continue working, only to kick up again not even ten minutes later, each fit harder than the last. And when he wasn’t coughing, he was wiping his running nose on his sleeve well past the point of irritating it.

For a brief time, things were quiet. Then the latest coughing fit came the exact same moment he became nauseous again, forcing Fred to stop what he was doing altogether, dropping his tools against the tile floor, as coughs turned to gags. He managed to make it stop before it could get any worse, and it also made him decide to go back in the house to rest.

He began walking towards the exit, which seemed to crawl further away from him with each shaky step he took. About ten feet in, he lost his footing and found himself reduced to crawling to the door; although now he wasn’t sure where the door was, no thanks to the black spots further obscuring his vision!

I need to sit down for a minute… he decided, crawling up to the nearest wall, where he stayed well after closing his eyes. Maybe I’ll feel a little better when I wake up…

––

It felt like he was underwater, with how distorted the surrounding noises were. Something cool was pressed against his forehead, which was certainly more pleasant than those earlier chills.

At the same time, he was aching all over, he was congested, his head was throbbing, and it felt as though the slightest movement would trigger the nausea welling up in his stomach.

“I think he’s waking up!” was the first thing he could hear clearly.

He opened his eyes halfway to see Louis and Moran there. What were they doing in the greenhouse? Or…Wait, where were they? Where were the plants?! He gazed around and realized they were actually in the drawing room? How’d he get here?

“Fred?”

He looked back towards whoever spoke to him just now. It was Louis.

“There you are.” He said gently. “How are you feeling?”

Truth be told, the youngest just wanted to go back to sleep, but his aching stomach had other ideas, as it forced him to lurch forward, everything coming up in just a few heaves. Which wasn’t much, but it was enough to soil the blanket that was covering him.

“Does that answer your question?” Moran asked rhetorically. Oddly, he was speaking just as softly as Louis was.

Fred squeezed his eyes shut, both from the pain and to keep from crying. As if being the youngest in the group wasn’t enough of a reason to be babied! Now he was weak, not to mention gross.

He only opened his eyes again when he felt another damp cloth wiping his face clean. Both it and the blanket were then taken up, probably to be rinsed out.

To his surprise, no one seemed disgusted by what just happened except for himself. He didn’t really understand why. He had only just got here, and was already making a mess of things.

“I knew something was wrong when you didn’t show up for breakfast.” Louis stated suddenly. “You’re not the type to skip meals intentionally.”

Going by his tone, he wasn’t the least bit cross. Rather…concerned? Anxious even?

“Wasn’t hungry…” Fred explained once he was able to speak, his voice scratchy from his sore, still burning throat. “Decided to go work.”

Louis nodded, then continued, carefully placing a thermometer under Fred’s tongue. “For whatever reason, that didn’t occur to me right away.”

—

We searched nearly every room before I realized that you were probably tending to the garden. When I went out there, I heard some cats, mewling for food.

—

Fred gasped, and tried to get up, only for dizziness to catch up again. Not to mention the others collectively assuring him that the cats had been fed. Yes, the chicken from the icebox. Yes, there was enough for all of the cats, none of them left hungry.

“Now I know it especially isn’t like you ignore hungry cats like that, therefore I knew something must have happened to you.” Louis continued on.

—

Before jumping to any conclusions, of course, I decided to check the greenhouse. Lo and behold, there you were, on the floor with your back to the wall!

“Fred!” I exclaimed, yet you didn’t move a muscle. “Fred?”

As I came up to you, I realized you were breathing heavily, and your face was especially flushed. I brushed away some of your hair, which was sticking to your forehead, when I realized you had a very high fever.

He’s really burning up! I thought to myself, only acting on instinct from there. I carried you back inside.

“One of you, get some flannels and some cold water! Quick!” I exclaimed, as everyone else gathered into the drawing room where I laid you on the couch, explaining how I found you.

It took us a few hours to get your fever down, but it seems we succeeded.

—

“Needless to say, you gave us quite a scare!” Louis added, lightheartedly of course, but it seemed to sting the boy anyway. “In any case, it seems you have the flu.” He stated, upon taking the thermometer out of Fred’s mouth and reading the results; 102, from what the younger could tell. “You should be better in about a week, but only if you get plenty of rest and fluids.”

“I’m sorry…” the nineteen year old mumbled sadly. “I just…” he trailed off.

“You just what?”

The boy curled in on himself, clearly not wanting to, or perhaps simply unable to, elaborate. He only looked up again when he felt a hand gently rubbing his back.

“Perhaps you hadn’t anticipated falling ill?” William asked, kneeling down to the boy’s level. He got a nod in response. “There’s nothing to get hung up on; it happens to all of us sometimes!” He said, holding out a hand as he stood. “In the meantime, let’s get you back to bed.”

Fred didn’t take it. He mumbled something William just barely picked up on.

“You don’t want me to get sick?” William repeated for clarification, and got another nod. “Oh, Fred. It’ll take more than a little hand holding to bring me down!”

With that, the sick boy finally took up the offer. Although just standing up made him dizzy all over again. William helped him sit back down, then instructed him upon kneeling again -this time his back facing the boy- to put his arms around the other’s shoulders.

“Up we go!” He said, lifting Fred onto his back and proceeding to take him upstairs.

“Albert and I can check in on you whenever possible, but Louis and Moran will both be here the whole week to take care of you.” He shared with the now half awake nineteen year old.

Fred gave a weak nod, while struggling to keep his heavy eyelids from closing.

He gave a look of confusion when he heard William chuckle. “Get some sleep, Fred.” He said. “After all, that’s one of the two things Louis prescribed!”

The sick boy was perplexed as to how the other knew, but regardless, he decided to finally allow his fatigue to take over.

[sizzleissues]

trick or treat!

A oneshot that you have won. Let me know if its any fun

(Haha rhyming. It’s 500 words and is as plain as it seems. Prpr, Chat Noir is the Dupain-Cheng’s house cat he had no say in this. I couldn’t decide a certain bit to post so its all of it XD)

-

Marinette had learned to embrace her chronic bad luck because not doing so would have left her completely hopeless fifty pricked fingers, twenty four wardrobe malfunctions and five twisted ankles ago. So if it started raining the day she forgot her umbrella when every other day it had only inconvenienced her, she’d learned to walk under the overhangs. 

That was what she tried to remember as Chat Noir burst into her room, his face puffy and red, wildly swinging his arms in all directions as he tried to compose himself enough to speak. The movements conveyed something urgent that required storming through the bakery to be told. Marinette hissed as she pricked her finger with her sewing needle, dropping the thing as Chat Noir climbed in. She pushed back from her desk as she raised her finger to her mouth to suck it clean — pushing with unexpected force that sent her toppling backwards, a flurry of fabric and skirt coming down with her. She let out a short yelp, tucking in her head and rolling to the side. Learning to fall correctly had become a top priority when she couldn’t seem to get a hang on the whole staying upright thing. 

Chat Noir made himself comfortable on the sofa, waiting for Marinette to pull herself off the floor. Marinette stood, smoothing her skirt and rearranged the fabric on her desk. 

“So what is it?” Marinette asked.

“One sec.” Chat Noir fanned himself with a stray fashion brochure. At the same time Sabine poked her head through the trapdoor, a tray of refreshments following her up. She slid them across the floor in Chat’s direction and then disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived. “Thank you, Mrs Cheng!” 

Chat Noir grabbed the pitcher of water and a glass, pouring a cup and then downing the entire thing. He then selected a snack from the spread and returned to laying across the sofa. 

Marinette crossed her arms and raised her brow.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Your maman is just too sweet.” —He bit down on the finger sandwich—. “And an excellent cook,” Chat Noir said with a placating smile.

“Anytime!” Sabine called from downstairs, still within earshot. Marinette frowned at Chat Noir first, then the trapdoor, locking it so they wouldn’t be disturbed. 

“Stop flirting with my maman.”

“I’m not!” Chat Noir said in a tone that most certainly meant he was. He took an another bite from the sandwich he’d grabbed, grinning. “Just stating facts.”

“You are and you know it.”

“Can’t help it. Your maman is where you must have gotten your stunning looks.” Chat Noir made sure to look Marinette in the eye as he said it, taking a third dramatic bite to break it. Marinette’s flustered blush turned sour as she grabbed the nearest cushion and smacked the smug look right off Chat Noir’s face.

“Get to talking about whatever had you burst in here or get lost!”

“Okay, okay. So-.” He paused and stared aimlessly in the space between them

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“That has happened, yes.”

-

Trick or Trick ask game

[nichenarratives]

Frozen Hearts 2

A Vikdecai Miniseries, by Niche Narratives.

Part 1 can be read here.

2. Chilled

The walk has been grueling; even the fluffy orange cat can feel the chill through his thick fur and sweater, fingertips icy where they peek from fingerless gloves. A thin layer of snow speckles his fur and where his breaths condense in the cool air, small icicles have begun to form on his whiskers, bowing the long appendages down under their weight, as frost licks at small ears folded flat to his head for protection.

Not to mention the cargo weighing him down, pressing him into the snow drifts and putting extra strain on his knees and back. Breath misting, Viktor glances down at the limp form in his arms. Mordecai remains unresponsive, unaware of a blanket of white flecks caking his facial features. The bobcat does his best to brush them off again and adjusts his hold to press the smaller male's into his chest, studying his face as he tries to keep it free of more snow.

The wound on his temple has frosted over, the coagulated blood a pale pink hue beneath an icy crust. Unnervingly pale lips are a whitish-blue, and his inner ears have faded to a peach rather than vibrant pink. Were it not for the shallow breaths misting between them, or the heartbeat weakly pulsing in his wrists, Viktor would assume he was already dead.

One man missteps and falls bodily into a thick snowdrift, his carved wooden cane clattering to the cobbles, distinguished top hat flying off and rolling towards the gutter. Barely a beat passes before laughter erupts so hearty and loud, a familiar face emerges from the Cafe to shush them, her thick, lined fur coat pulled tight around her small frame. 

As he reaches the Little Daisy Cafe's block, small ears rise at the unmistakable sound of quiet, intoxicated giggles and a slow stumbling of tipsy bodies. Despite his knee's complaints, Viktor picks up his pace, turning the last corner with a minor limp. He pauses below a neighbouring awning and watches the flappers and their dates stumble down the few steps to the street with little grace, bathed in a soft yellow light emanating from within the cafe.

"Quiet," she reminds them, glancing up and down the street. It's then she spots Viktor and she blinks, obviously confused by his presence. A swift glance down to his arms seems to be enough to clue her in of his emergency though, and she turns back to the Cafe as the man in the snowdrift rolls into his back with a quiet chuckle. "Zib, assist poor Mister Gail to his feet, will you? We wouldn't want the patrols to find him drunk and disorderly outside our doors."

"Yeah, yeah," the musician responds in a more level tone, then steps out into the street in little more than a shirt and slacks, bare claws clacking on the steps and cobbles. He pauses to move a lit cigarette from his mouth to behind an ear before reaching down for Mr Gail, grunting with effort as the skinny man hauls an arm over his shoulder. "C'mon, up ya get." He glances to the nearest giggling flapper. "Get his cane, would ya, Miss? He's gonna need it."

"I've got him, old sport," one of the other men states, hauling the chuckling man off of Zib and into his own shoulder. With a soft giggle and the lost top hat situated on her head, the flapper hands the more sober man his friend's cane. With that, the group can finally turn their backs on the speakeasy and begin their slow trek home through the snow. "There you go, lad," the man's voice sounds muffled after they've been engulfed by the white sheets of falling snow. "We'll have you home in no time."

Straggling patrons finally gone, Mitzi silently waves Viktor forwards. Zib doesn't notice the bobcat until he pauses on the stairs to drag on his cigarette, extracting it from behind an ear and following her gaze as he puffs. The bundle in the Slovak's arms brings a frown to dry lips. "What ya got there, Vinegar?" He asks through a mouthful of smoke, the heat in his maw potent out in the cold. "Find a stray or somethin'?"

Atlas' penchant for picking up strays - and its effect on those around him beginning to do the same - is an inside joke at the Lackadaisy Speakeasy. The comment draws a chuckle from both musician and host before Viktor steps into the light, whereupon all humour swiftly drains from their faces. "Ah, shit," Zib mutters under his breath, gaze swiftly moving to Mitzi's own worried frown. "You want me to call Quack?"

"Please," the pampered feline whispers, gaze never leaving the prone tom's impassive face. "And wake Atlas. He'll want to know what's happened." Zib makes a sour face - the boss isn't one to enjoy being awoken except for emergencies and with no context to offer, Zib will probably get the brunt of his irritation - but the musician nods and heads inside dutifully, the ding of a bell over the door deafening in the silent night. 

Wide eyes stay on Mordecai a moment longer before she finally meets Viktor's gaze, then motions for him to follow as she pushes the door open with another lonely ding, this time holding it open so the bobcat can get inside unencumbered. Once they're in however, the questions flow thick and fast while Viktor carries the tuxedo through to the back, where a fire still hums within hot embers.

"What did happen, Viktor?" She asks now, clutching her furs more out of anxiety than chill in the warm kitchen, olive eyes flicking between the unconscious triggerman and the muscle. A restless energy builds within her when Viktor doesn't reply, instead focusing on placing the tuxedo on the rug before the hearth and rebuilding the fire with kindling. She strokes the delicate pearls around her neck anxiously. "You're supposed to be on a pick-up in Defiance, not here in St Louis."

Finished stacking kindling carefully utop hot coals, Viktor retrieves the bellows and huffs air into the base of the fire, encouraging the dying embers to light the dry fuel above. His ignorance and her concern creating a fiery anger in her, Mitzi raises her voice now, though the shake within belies her worry. "Don't ignore me, Mr Vasko. You might work for my husband, but I have every right to know what you're-"

"Vho gave him keys?" The bobcat finally asks, not looking at the irate woman, focused on the fire. He puffs the bellows again to ensure the flames catch before turning his head to look at her, single eye furrowed deeply in a dark socket. "He does not touch; he find me, I return for car. Then, ve go. He crash car tonight. So I ask; vho gave Metzger car keys?"

"I-I don't know," Mitzi admits, quelled by the unexpectedly equal anger sent back her way. Viktor growls softly before he returns his gaze to the fire, poking the embers with the tip of the bellows. Mordecai remains motionless beside him, the snow and ice on his face melting swiftly into dark fur. "He needs a towel," she observes, not sure if it will actually be useful but in desperate need of something to do, latches into it. "I'll… go find some towels."

"Boil vater, also," the Slavok instructs her without looking up. Mitzi might be the wife of his employer, but she rarely stuck around to see the worst parts of the job; the blood, broken bones, the ragged stitches from an overpriced horse doctor. She needs guidance, which Victor will willingly give to save his business partner's life. "Doctor always vant hot vater vith no-septic. For clean vound."

No-septic? She whispers to herself, hesitating behind Viktor as he feeds the fire small pieces of wood, encouraging the smoking coals back to an actual flame. While Mitzi doesn't know what he means, she's also nervous to ask; he's upset, and as far as the pampered woman knows, that's when the bobcat gets dangerous. She's not seen him angry, but both his bulk and deep frowns suggest his anger isn't something to underestimate, nor something she wants to provoke.

"Yes, alright. Towels, hot water and… no-septic," she eventually agrees, despite being none the wiser, and first heads for the linen closet to procure the towels, leaving her husband's employees alone in front of the hearth.

Viktor doesn't answer. Focusing his anger into doing rather than ruminating, the fact she's gone doesn't sink in until the fire has returned to a full, crackling flame and the kitchen is lit with its hazy orange hue. Only then does he look back at his charge, and his frown unconsciously softens seeing the tom in renewed light; the palour of his inner ears worryingly in the fire's glow, his lips still too pale and breaths too shallow to be healthy, even if he's still alive.

Disregarding his injuries, Mordecai looks peaceful for once in his life; the bobcat has never seen him relaxed or even asleep before. Without the severe expression, he looks far too young to have a dozen lives on his conscience, merely a child masquerading as a contract killer. Viktor realises then he knows almost nothing about this man, not even his age, a fact in itself that makes him frown more deeply.

A comrade should never die unknown; a life should mean something, no matter where fate takes it.

"Quack's on his way," comes a smooth voice from the door. The Slovak raises his gaze to find Zib lounging against the doorframe, the stub of his last cigarette smoldering between his lips. The musician looks more tired than usual, even as he drapes his lean body against the wooden frame like he's modeling for an artist and jabs a thumb towards the hall. "I figure you'd do better walking up the boss, since you got a rapport an' all, Vinegar. I'll watch him while you're gone."

Viktor has no idea how he always looks simultaneously put together yet entirely disheveled, but Zib has a point; while he and the band have worked with Atlas for longer, with his wife being Zib's ex-lover and lead singer, it led to the pair not having the best relationship. On the other hand Viktor, held in high regard for his skills and loyalties, is more likely to get a good reception. 

The hulking Slavok grunts as he pulls himself to his feet with the fireplace. "Keep him varm," he instructs without looking away from Mordecai. "If start to shiver, is vaking up. Make sveet tea to sip." 

Acknowledging his duty being over and at last able to think about something else, Viktor becomes very suddenly aware of how hot he is. He pauses to reach over his shoulder and yanks off his sweater, tossing it aside while striding for the door. Zib flattens himself to the frame so the mechanic can pass, a nod of the head all the communication required to ensure he heard and will do his best.

"You got it," he still assures as Viktor heads down the corridor towards Atlas' apartment, then exhales harshly and looks to their accountant turned trigger man. Seeing the confident man in such a vulnerable state is disconcerting, but Zib sits beside the unconscious tuxedo and leans back, eyes on the fire rather than the uncertain fate at his side. "An' I got you, Mordy. So no dyin' on me, okay? It'll make me look bad."

Mordecai doesn't reply, but a slight shudder and a deeper inhale are reassuring enough that Zib gets to work boiling water for tea. English breakfast, he decides with a grimace, packing the leaf strainer right with the bitter blend. His favourite. That outta fix 'im up.

[mymegumi]

omg bb hai!!! your event!!! T^T i love i stan i support. and i am here to participate pls :3 i wasn't sure how long to make it so i opted for short n sweet but tell me if i should add more. ilybb!

name: io

prefs: jk / male

fave: i love the winter aesthetic. white, greys, and pretty icy blues for me. n snow.

abt: i have a very playful personality. i like word play n dad jokes. i like music, poetry, and crafts more than anything. i collect collections (like just a collection of random collections of things Imao). i love learning (nerd behavior fr). i also love animals so bad. all of them. every single one is my best friend.

ignoring that i lost this ask bc this one is def next :3 sorry abt the mix up hehe but welcome io! thank u for coming to my event and i promise! i won’t mix it up this time haha. this winter, i’m matching you with:

ITADORI YUUJI !

i think the playfulness would rlly b that boost of sunshine this guy needs and i can fs see him thinking how grateful he is to have u in his life ‘cause you’re always making him laugh!! you come up w the cleverest dad joke and he’s on the ground laughing. you make a pun that takes at least ten minutes to kick in for him and he’s in literal stitches. i can see y’all trying to out joke each other while megumi n nobara watch n theyre like ‘these two are meant to be together’ while shaking their heads disapprovingly. also!! w ur collections, anytime he sees ANYTHING that might even b remotely related, n he’s fucking getting it for you!!! postcards from missions? he’s bought them already. rocks that kinda also look like dicks? yeah he’ll pick one up. i just think he’s such a lil sunshine boy n he’d be such a good fit for you!!!! plus between the two of u, i already kno there’d be rescue pets galore. literally any stray cat, dog, or even like, a random bird that’s wing got broken—they’re your new pet lololol. the two of u fs have such big hearts!!! and you both love each other so much w them!!!

RUNNER UPS: ⠀ ෆ gojo satoru ⠀ ⠀ ⤿ could see the two of you being the goofy couple ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ omg ⠀ ෆ nanami kento ⠀ ⠀ ⤿ the serious one to your playful that also can ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ occasionally catch u off guard w a funny ass joke

“yuuji! if you put snow down my shirt one more time, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight!” you cry, hands scrabbling at your back desperately as you can feel it melting and cold invades your very being. your boyfriend is playfully snickering as he packs another snowball together, hopefully to be used outside of your clothing.

“well, i’ll just get you undressed in front of the fire to dry you off!” the street is empty so itadori’s voice doesn’t bounce against the business and fades into the void. his smile is bright and his cheeks are a flush rosy red, his nose a little bit too. he sniffles hard, trying to rub at his nose as he throws the snowball at a tree branch, making more snow fall down onto your head.

the cold has just become a part of you now as you groan softly, hands coming up as you run at your boyfriend, tackling him into the snow. “you’re the worst!”

he presses his lips against yours a soft kiss that’s mixed with melting snow and the smell of the fir tree you’re near. his eyes are sparkling with the lights of the nearest house as he laughs. “but you love me.”

you can’t deny him the truth, can you?

back to event masterlist

[valstrax]

Today while we were walking the dog, we found a lost cat. He was orange and he was sitting on a low roof near the local church. We had never seen this cat before, but we do tend to see regular stray cats here and there. So we started saying hi to him and babytalking him and he meowed and came down and came running to us excitedly. He didn't seem like a stray because he was so friendly and also stood stupidly in the middle of the road after he was done with us. Not to mention he followed us a good distance as we were walking the dog, and also attempted to follow another random lady we saw on the walk. He was just so interested in people. So we thought he must be someone's lost pet.

We were super worried about him because, again, he stood in the middle of the road at one point, and if he was a pet he likely wouldn't survive just running around outside. So we made a missing pet post online in several places. We also attempted to catch him, but once we picked him up one time he escaped and then became wary of going near us again. During this time of trying to catch him, many people saw us and did not say anything, including the man across the street with his big dogs and high fences and "we support the police" signs and flags all over his yard. He had just come home with his dog, looked at us, then went inside. The cat was nearest to his house, so we wanted to knock and ask him if it was his cat, but none of us thought it would be safe to try and speak to that guy.

Hours go by. We have gone back and forth between our house and the cat to give him food, then treats, because he really seemed like he was starving and we couldn't get him. He ate them up. He also followed us down the street a good distance, but refused to follow after a certain point and then just ran off to another house's porch.

We get home. We're tired. We're cold. Guess who replies to our lost pet posting and tells us it's his cat? The racist guy. He also replied with a list of reasons cats belong outside (bullshit of course) and someone siding with him called us a Karen "looking for her moment of fame" or some shit. Someone also chimed in saying they see the cat all the time and it's "obvious" the cat has an owner. Then someone asked the moderator to delete our post because we were apparently looking for attention. The owner also scolded us for not asking him. But at the same time... this guy SAW us trying to get his cat to come up to us while we had a cat carrier with us and said nothing to us either. It was kind of a safety reason that our queer asses did not want to walk up to this racist, likely-homophobic, likely-sexist man's house.

You try to do something nice for an animal and you get villainized by half the neighborhood for it. Sorry we were worried about your cat I guess.

I just hope this guy doesn't, like, say or do something mean next time he sees us walking the dog.

I'm also still worried about the cat. He should not be outdoors. Especially if he's so friendly. People in this neighborhood have poisoned cats before.

[scriveyner]

always summer #13

always summer #13: frotting | bungou stray dogs |👿🐯 | #kinktober 🔞| ~1500 words

Atsushi clung to the side of the overturned rowboat, claws dug into the old wood, and laughed. He had avoided getting brained by the oar Akutagawa was wielding, attempting to keep him from overturning the boat trying to climb back into it, but had not, in fact, avoided him overturning the boat.

Contiune on ao3 or:

Akutagawa was clinging to the other side, cursing inventively, and it made Atsushi laugh even harder. “Does Rashomon not work when you’re wet?” Atsushi asked, sides heaving and treading water.

“Do not tempt me, else I send her through your heart, weretiger!”

Atsushi snorted, still snickering audibly. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry? I told you not to stand upright, and your tiny cat brain apparently doesn’t have the processing power to understand even the smallest concepts--!” Akutagawa cut himself off with a racking cough, and Atsushi’s amusement twinged into worry.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t sound fine, coughing again heavily, and Atsushi transitioned from treading water to kicking, heading the capsized boat toward the nearest swatch of dry land, a stretch of sandy dirt tucked away between two enormous old trees. Akutagawa didn’t complain again until his feet touched the ground, and he staggered out of the water, shedding moisture into the air as Rashomon absorbed the liquid saturating his clothes.

Atsushi beached the boat and flipped it, checking where his tiger claws had dug into the hull and making certain he didn’t accidentally penetrate the wood. Akutagawa said nothing, hand over his mouth and watching the muscles tense in Atsushi’s arms when he so casually turned over the heavy, water-logged craft.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Atsushi said, soaked through, ankle-deep in water and hands on his hips. Akutagawa’s ire rose again. “At least we hadn’t caught any fish yet.”

“You are an idiot,” Akutagawa hissed, arms folded. Atsushi rubbed his hand through his dripping wet hair and grinned sheepishly, which only seemed to incense Akutagawa further because his face had pinked significantly.

“Could have been worse,” Atsushi said.

“How?”

“Could have lost the boat.” He nudged the beached craft with his bare foot. “Oh, shoot. Our lunch was in the cooler. That should float, I’ll go get it.”

Before Akutagawa could open his mouth Atsushi splashed back out into the water, swimming almost effortlessly. There were a few bits of detritus floating about, including the cooler with their lunch, and Atsushi dragged back to shore what he could. Akutagawa kicked around the hardscrabble dirt/sand mix and finally found a seat on a downed tree trunk. He scowled as Atsushi splashed out of the water again, holding their recovered items.

“Lunch,” he called gleefully, dropping the cooler just past the water line. He shook his head, spraying water everywhere, and proceeded to drip all over creation as he marched over toward Akutagawa, damp and yet in dry clothing. “Are you sure you’re okay? You were coughing bad, did you inhale water?”

“I cough,” Akutagawa said. “Stop worrying about me and worry about how I’m going to mount your head on a decorative plaque when we return to the cabin instead.”

“You’ll feel better once you eat something,” Atsushi fished a miraculously dry sandwich out of a Ziploc bag in the somehow watertight cooler. He presented the food to Akutagawa, who grudgingly took it, and then stripped out of his damp clothing right in front of him.

Akutagawa held the sandwich with both hands, already forgotten as he stared at Atsushi. “What…what are you doing, weretiger?”

“I’m soaked,” Atsushi complained. “I’ll let my clothes dry in the sun while we eat.”

“That will take hours.”

Atsushi shrugged, spreading his clothing over a branch in the sunlight, completely naked. “What, did you have somewhere else to be?”

He fished a sandwich for himself out of the cooler and then used it as his seat, munching away happily. Akutagawa looked at his own sandwich, and then at Atsushi, before looking away angrily and taking a sullen bite.

Atsushi seemed happily oblivious. Some of what he’d rescued was the fishing poles, and the tackle box—after filling his belly he got to work setting up the poles and casting away from the shore, standing in the water up to mid-thigh and humming as he fished. Akutagawa found other things to look at for a while before he gave up and stared at Atsushi’s behind.

“I can feel you staring at my butt,” Atsushi said, and Akutagawa flushed red angrily. Atsushi looked back over his shoulder at Akutagawa and grinned, happy and open, and…comfortable. He was comfortable, standing there with his back to Akutagawa, humming as he fished, completely vulnerable to any method of attack should Akutagawa choose to end their accords.

Akutagawa swallowed and looked away, but found his eyes drawn back to Atsushi, the sun washing over his shoulders and showing off the muscles in his back. Before he even realized it, Rashomon acted, looping around Atsushi’s waist loosely and tugging him insistently back toward the shore.

“You made me drop my pole,” Atsushi said, one hand wrapped around Rashomon, but untransformed. “This better be good!”

Akutagawa stood and came forward, Rashomon still looped around Atsushi’s hips like a belt. Atsushi raised his eyebrows as Akutagawa looked him up and down, then sighed, audibly, slumping his shoulders. “God damn it,” Akutagawa said, finally, and Rashomon loosened and dissipated.

Atsushi made a noise of confusion, a verbal question mark, and Akutagawa put his palm against the center of Atsushi’s chest, feeling how warm his skin was from standing in the sun, and the strong beat of his heart. Atsushi put his hand over Akutagawa’s, threaded their fingers together, and lifted Akutagawa’s hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over Akutagawa’s knuckles.

“Stupid,” Akutagawa breathed; because he didn’t know what else to say; his other hand flailed to the back of Atsushi’s neck as he was pulled in close, and then they were kissing in the late summer sun.

More time passed than either of them noticed, although Akutagawa had staggered backward, back to his tree trunk and Atsushi had followed, kissing him still hungrily, both hands framing his body and braced on the soft wood of the felled tree.

They didn’t have anything to use for lubrication out here. Akutagawa bit Atsushi’s bottom lip as he drew back slightly, panting audibly, and said, insistently, “so we don’t use lube—”

“Are you kidding, no,” Atsushi said, mouth just barely out of reach of Akutagawa’s. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Akutagawa groaned, both hands on Atsushi’s hips, fingernails scouring red marks into his skin. “I want it to hurt, I want you to hurt me, please, I need you to—” he tried to follow Atsushi’s head as he jerked it back but couldn’t go that far, held against the tree trunk by the press of Atsushi’s body. “Atsushi.”

“No,” Atsushi said, softly.

Rashomon erupted from Akutagawa’s clothes, tendrils wrapping around his neck and shoulders, but Atsushi didn’t budge. He didn’t even seem to notice the ability constraining him, eyes locked on Akutagawa’s; he slid his hand down Akutagawa’s side, pushing the waistband of his shorts over the sharp jut of his hip. Akutagawa gripped Atsushi’s arm, fingers curled into his biceps as Atsushi freed him from his shorts.

“I’ve got you,” Atsushi said in that same soft tone, stroking Akutagawa slowly. “I’ve got you.”

Bare hip to bare hip, Atsushi’s cock against his, warm hand wrapped around them both, stroking slow and measured. Akutagawa panted, eyes locked on Atsushi, and Atsushi didn’t look away from him.

It was a lot, Atsushi’s weight pressing him into the tree, his hand tight around their cocks, fluid slicking together making each stroke easier; Atsushi’s hips rocked a little and Akutagawa groaned, mouth open.

Atsushi leaned in, but not for a kiss. He breathed against Akutagawa’s ear, “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Ryuunosuke. You deserve better than that.”

Akutagawa let out a small, choked sob, and came all over Atsushi’s hand, his fingernails drawing blood. Atsushi didn’t release him, kept his hand tight around them both but started thrusting his cock into his hand, rubbing through the fluid dripping between them until he pushed over the edge himself, the overspill patterning the dirt between their feet.

He shoved Atsushi with both hands, swallowing hard. “What the fuck, weretiger, you can’t just say shit like that—”

Akutagawa was cut off by Atsushi’s mouth on his, and he gave in immediately and didn’t fight it, kept kissing him until they both were more than breathless, Atsushi’s weight against him more a crutch now because he wasn’t sure he could stay on his feet.

They sat in the hard-packed dirt on the edge of the water, watching the lake ripple and gently wash the shore. Akutagawa’s shorts joined Atsushi’s clothing on the sun-warmed branch, though he at least still had his shirt hanging open on his shoulders.

Akutagawa looked away, arms folded, but then leaned against Atsushi. “That still doesn’t get you off the hook for capsizing the fucking boat,” he said, finally, and Atsushi laughed, sticking his legs straight out so the water washed over his feet.

[lunaevangeline]

Immunity (Iwaizumi x sick!reader)

warning: nothing, just fluff

words: 1,500+

An entry for @augustinewrites's simple pleasures collab. Also, a redemption for my previous cheater!Iwa fics. Please heal your broken heart with this fic 💔

You know something off with Iwaizumi Hajime today. Iwaizumi is being petty. You can hear from the way he stomps his feet louder on your shared apartment floor, or from the way he scrunches his nose repeatedly. Even the coffee he served you this morning is a bit bitter than usual -he fails to put an ideal amount of sugar like he usually does.

Iwaizumi is being uneasy. You know he's been avoiding you since morning. His morning kisses turn into a quick single peck, a bit halfhearted. It's not he didn't want to kiss you -he really wants to, it's just his little act to show that he's still upset.

You think Iwaizumi is being petty over small things. The thing when you forgot to take daily vitamin he already prepare on your desk, when you failed to empty the 2 liters water gallon he gave you for the entire day of work, or when you prefer to eat more sweets rather than the fruit he stocks in the fridge.

And the peak was yesterday when he picked you up and you were talking about each other's day. You rambled on how you ended up skipping meals because you back up the work of your sick colleague.

His eyebrows furrow, "Why don't you at least grab some bento or onigiri in the convenience store?"

Yes, there's a convenience store exactly in front of your office, a great alternative to avoid the packed-up cafeteria for grabbing a quick meal, he knows very well.

"No, it's more convenient to finish the work as soon as possible. I can't stay late right? And I grab some biscuits tho."

He snorts, your carelessness is infuriating. "Whatever, I won't give a damn if you get sick," he says with eyes still focused on the traffic.

You chuckle at his pettiness. "I won't get sick Haji," resting your head on his shoulder and arm wrapping his biceps, forgetting how he has told you many times that your favorite butter biscuit can trigger your gastritis.

There are not many texts from Iwaizumi today, besides "Don't forget to eat a meal" with lots of exclamations. And unfortunately, it rains heavily today, the weather forecast failed to predict it -guess the forecaster got tricked just like you. You forgot to bring your umbrella and you didn't get any message from Iwa when you ask if he can pick you up. He didn't even read it.

So you decide to run to the nearest train station. Holding a clear file on the top of your head -a useless attempt to dispel the raindrops. It's cold, a strange rain in the middle of the winter transition.

The street is kinda busy, workers pass by, some with umbrellas and there are also others who desperately run from the rain, just like you. All you can hear are footsteps and the sound of rain hitting the ground and umbrellas.

"Hey hey, where are you going, miss?"

A familiar voice calls you, his hand holds your shoulder, making you slow down before turning your back. You notice the amount of water that comes to you is greatly reduced, there's only a small splash on the ground.

"Haji?" You found your boyfriend, holding a wide black umbrella.

"I thought you won't pick me."

"How could I won't??" He retorts, eyes observing your figure.

You look like a stray cat lost in the rain; hair messy, your clothes are almost drenched, and you must be shivering from the cold. Before you can further argue, he grabs your hand and guides you to where he parked the car.

"Let's just get home quickly, you're cold." His tone is stern but painted with concern. As much as you know that he's petty, he won't stop caring. You smiled as his warm hand holds yours.

When both of you settled in the car Iwaizumi start to speaks, "Sorry, my battery was running low. I didn't notice until it was turned off."

"It's okay, Haji."

You exhale in relief, "I thought you were still upset."

He smirked and took a glance at you, placing a hand on the top of your head. "Even if I'm still upset, I won't stop loving you though."

He shrugged, "You're a brat."

You chuckle in response, humming, "Your brat."

You open the door of your shared apartment. It's nice to finally feel the warm room temperature. After taking off your shoes, you take off your soaked shirt and skirt, placing them randomly on the floor.

Iwaizumi who's already entered the apartment room has come back with a piece of a white towel, wrapping you up in it.

"Go take a bath first." He pecked your temple.

You smiled sheepishly, "Won't you join me?"

He sighs, but in the second takes off his black polo, sending you a crook smile, "You are really insufferable."

Taking a warm bath as aftercare for the cold rain feels like heaven. After taking a bath and a warm dinner, Iwaizumi drags you to bed.

"You have to take a good rest," he said, enveloping your frame in his arm and stroking the crown of your head.

You don't argue, your head has already felt a bit heavy and it doesn't take long before you fell into a deep sleep.

Iwaizumi can sense your uneasiness because he's a light sleeper. The way you flip your body back and forth, also the way you kick out your blanket but ended up pinning him a bit closer.

Your breath is heavier and hotter than usual, your heart beats a bit faster. It's worrisome because you're not in the middle of having sex with him.

"This is bad," Iwaizumi thought. He's about to take a thermometer when he feels your hand tugging his t-shirt.

"Ngg Haji.." You talked in your sleep -maybe it's a bad dream.

"Shh.. Angel, I'm here okay," he whispered, stroking your hair locks and placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

Your expression becomes calm, easing your grab on him. He gave you the last pat before getting up and taking a digital thermometer.

The thermometer takes several seconds before beeping and showing a certain temperature. "It's really bad, 39 degrees huh? I should've come faster before she drenched in the stupid rain," he murmurs.

He took a gel patch and put a stripe on your forehead. You're smiling at the pleasing cool sensation. He smiled and lay down again beside you.

"You really made me worry," he said before falling asleep with you.

You wake up from the sun peeking through the window opening. Your eyes flutter open to find Hajime placing a glass of water on the table beside you.

"You woke up, Angel?" You nod, head still dizzy and your body doesn't feel right.

"You got a fever," he explained.

You blink several times and then-

"Hatchi!" You sneeze, suddenly your nose is runny.

"And flu maybe?"

You touch your forehead that covered by the cooling patch, realizing that Iwaizumi was taking care of you. You pout, looking at him apologetically, "Uh I'm sorry Haji."

He pats your head, "Don't worry okay, everyone gets sick once in a while."

"Sorry for not taking good care of myself."

"And I'm sorry for being petty too. I know that sometimes I am just not good at words. But seeing you so careless is just frustrating."

"And who can look after you on weekdays? Thank goodness at least you're sick on the weekends," he continues his scold.

But then, he soften, "I made you a soup. Let's eat breakfast before taking your medicine, okay?"

You nodded. You reach his hand and follow him to the kitchen, murmuring "I don't deserve you."

He chuckles, "Me too."

So, what's so bad about getting flu on the weekend when your boyfriend is around? Kiss, you won't and mustn't kiss him -of course, you would feel bad if you make Japan men's volleyball athletic trainers get sick.

He finds out that you keep staring at his lips. Then, he licks his upper lip and flattens it.

"No kisses until you recover," He coos.

"Uhhh.." You grunt and he chuckles at you for being pouty.

"You miss me that much huh?"

You snort, "I'm not," tugging the duvet and facing the other side.

He gathers you in his arms, "Are you sure you don't miss me, princess?"

You turn around to face him again. "I don't want you to get sick," you said with a low voice.

"I won't," he tugs your chin to see his adoring eyes before dragging you to a kiss. A kiss that is so soft, fleeting at the moment it touches your lips.

"An athletic trainer won't get sick," he said cockyly.

"Pfft.. is there any exception for that?" You chuckle.

He gives you another peck, "There is."

"Cut it out, Hajime."

But he strains your hands to steal another one, two, three, four, five more kisses, until you melt. Then he takes you to his embrace.

His body unreasonably feels cold against your hot body temperature. Maybe it's not a matter of hot or cold, but being with him makes you at ease.

The next day, your flu has gotten so much better, while Hajime also didn't show any symptoms either. You learn a new thing about him; not only does he have strong arms, his immunity is also strong as hell.

masterlist

taglist: @sabyss @ohtobiors @passionateuchiha @miya-dynasty @crystal-lilac @hyeque @pklm10

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

Kidcat AU? Who is the kid? are they a literal cat at any point?

KIDCAT AU KIDCAT AU this is mine and @lady-stormbraver's baby (Lady gets credit bc she's my brainstorming and plotting partner on it)!!!! the kid is Tim because I watched The Batman 2022, saw Bruce and Selina being weird stalkers (affectionate) and I went oh hey you know who else is a stalker and has a lot of love in his heart? TIMBERLY. and decided I wanted a Reevesverse Stray AU. this version of Selina sooooo needs a weird little nerd kid following in her shadow. also a big part of the premise is that 1) Jason and Tim hit it off, realize that they consider each other brothers, and decide they're going to Parent Trap(TM) Bruce and Selina, and 2) Dick is in his Hot Mess Era and is wearing a leather jacket with the Discowing suit and at one point ill-advisedly bleached his hair because he thought it would tick off Bruce and he's not great at being an older brother to one little sibling, let alone one (official) little sibling AND the cat-themed tagalong who's hanging around nowadays. this scene takes place a fair bit through the AU and is kind of a turning point in Dickie's character arc in this 'verse.

Batman is out of town, which means Nightwing is in town.

B isn't actually that far, just swapped cities for the night because a lead he'd been tailing ended up taking him to Blüd and he asked Dick, stiltedly and struggling, to cover his patrol route in Gotham tonight. Dick had agreed, because he's been on better terms with Bruce lately and is trying to keep it that way and not completely live up to his name, like Jason likes to say. Anyway, he's not patrolling alone. He's just babysitting, really, though he figures if Selina is out she's keeping her eyes on the kids as well, and possibly him, too.

Robin and Stray took a separate patrol route from his, and Dick had argued with Jason for ten minutes before they took it to Alfred, who cleared that they're allowed to split off like that. Dick does not really want to be babysitting, but he also really doesn't want to screw it up.

"Nightwing!" Comes a sudden, loud cry through his earpiece that almost makes Dick, even with a literal lifetime of practiced balance, miss his landing. "Dick, something's wrong," Jason says, voice tight. "Tim passed out and won't wake up and shit, I'm breaking the names rule, just- Dick, help."

Dick feels like someone's dumped a glass of ice water over his head and maybe broken the glass on his skull for good measure. The chill settles directly under his ribs. Jason never asks for help, not his help, at least. His mind plays a dozen scenarios of gas or gunshots or gang fights and he grapples to the top of the nearest building almost on instinct. When lost, climb to a high point. He deliberately stills at the top, takes a slow breath so his voice won't shake. That one momentary pause is better than the minutes he may have to spend calming Jason if he lets him hear the terror Dick is feeling. "What's your location, Robin?" He asks, sends the request to Alfred, back at the Manor, at the same time.

Jason replies immediately with two street names, the closest corner he remembers, at the same time Alfred pings with a precise coordinate. The running leap Dick takes off the building isn't as smooth as it would be otherwise, if he wasn't responsible for Jason and Tim tonight. If he wasn't freaking terrified thinking of things that could have happened to Sel's tiny little shadow who, yeah, okay, Dick is a bit fond of himself. What Jason could be dealing with, the goddamned protective instincts in that kid has for everyone but himself sometimes. No extra flips tonight, no wasting time on showing off or having fun. It wouldn't be fun, anyway, tonight.

Dick isn't Nightwing when he touches down, not really. He's just a teenager looking for another teenager and the little kid they've both claimed as brother. Sometimes he thinks that's all that holds him and Jason together, other than Bruce. He finds what he's looking for on a roof, tucked away in the nook formed between a high concrete railing and the roof access stairs to the building below.

Jason is a bright flare of red and green and Dick rushes toward him, only remembering too late that Jason flinches, and badly, and that he should have slowed down. Tim is slumped in Jason's arms, black cat-eared hood already pulled down away from his face, the older boy curled protectively around the little black form.

"Robin," Dick says, snapping himself back into Nightwing mode, "Report. What happened?"

"I don't know," Jason snaps, eyes flicking back and forth from Tim, who looks half-conscious, at least, to Dick like he thinks Dick is going to try and take Tim away from him. "He seemed off all night, kinda slow, I guess? We were patrolling like normal, nothing weird, but he just... collapsed. He's burning up."

"Okay," Dick says. "Okay." Slowly, this time, a lot like how he acts with victims — although he hates thinking of it like that, because this is, essentially, his brothers — he reaches towards Tim.

Jason all but growls at him, holding the smaller boy tighter. "Don't touch him."

Dick sits back on his heels. "Jason," he says, "Jay, you've gotta let me check him out, okay?"

Jason eyes him from behind his mask, and it feels a lot like he's taking that one second that Dick took earlier to calm himself. It feels like Dick is becoming both a big brother and Nightwing at the same time. "Okay," he says, and visibly makes himself relax when Dick reaches out again.

"It's okay," Dick says, briefly placing a hand on Jason's head without even thinking about it as he checks Tim's pulse with the other. It's quick, fluttery but not uneven. "You're right, he's running a pretty high fever." Tim's eyelids flicker, and Dick brings a hand up to his face, taps his cheek gently with one gloved finger. "Heya, kitten, you with us?"

Tim blinks sluggishly, eyes half-lidded and clearly not totally lucid. "Nigh'wing?" He mumbles, body suddenly tensing like he's trying to sit up, but Jason holds him tight.

"Relax, baby cat, be still," Jason says, frowning down at him as Tim squirms momentarily. He glances up to make eye contact with Dick, but mostly they both stay fixated on the youngest of them.

Tim stills, his head resting against Jason's shoulder. "Jay..." he breathes, relaxing against this older boy, whose face goes softer than Dick even knew it could.

"We should get him home," Dick says quietly. Jason looks up at him, and Dick can see the but you only have a motorbike counter coming a mile away. "I'll call the 'Mobile."

"F...reakin' autopilot," Jason scoffs, but Dick can see some of the tension ease out of him. "Dick?"

"Hm?" Dick stands to watch for the headlights of the Batmobile. Hopefully Alfred has been on comms tonight and already sent a message to Selina, because Dick feels like he's juggling and not very smoothly.

Jason hesitates long enough to make Dick turn, catching the moment Jason turns his wide, greenish-blue eyes from staring after Dick back to focus on Tim. "Will you call B, too?" He asks, his voice just a little shaky.

Dick sighs. "Yeah, Jay. I'm calling him."

At the end of the day, or in this case, at the end of the night, he wants his dad too. Maybe that's another thing that holds them together.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚘𝚑"

PART 8: CAT BOYS 

... it’s late into the night and y/n is streaming with one of her new friends, sykkuno. running on caffeine and redbull is apparently not enough because she falls asleep on his shoulder 45 minutes into their cyberpunk gameplay. at that exact moment, twitter goes up in flames.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (because i was threatened by thirsty anons) ─── soc. media + written fiction!  ─── word count: 1.8k author’s note: here it is...what yall been asking for. literally had to add a new part for this but i loved this idea sm i couldnt just nOT NOT do it. i tried writing this with the same energy as the smau lmao so expect chaos as always. hope you enjoy it and as always lmk what u think! hopefully yall wont go too feral, but tbh thats prolly too much to ask for xx EDIT: srr for the fucky format tumbler dot com is being lame 

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Such a back and forth continues for the better part of the day as you get ready. Corpse only whines a bit when you forget to text him back - you are packing, and your prestigious cat ears you bought from Amazon for 10$ deserve exquisite care - which only fuels your seemingly bottomless hunger for mischief, leading to you sneakily ignoring him more. When your phone lights up with a message, you giggle, giddy with excitement. Your laughter only gets louder and more erratic, to the point where Rae had busted down your door and threw her Hello Kitty plush at you - one you’d gotten her, mind you! - and told you to just “Shut the fuck up!”

Ungrateful. You know not everyone can appreciate your sense of humor, or stand your hyena like cackle, but that was uncalled for and you told her as much. Noting the mess your room is in (more than usual, that’s for certain), she leans onto the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest, pretty brown eyes twinkling curiously, “Where you off to?”

“So I had this idea-” You start, but are promptly shut down with a raise of her palm.

“Already know it’s a bad one.”

Insulted, and hurt, you clutch your heart. As if she had not mocked you enough today, “Rae...The hell, that’s so mean...” You mutter, face scrunching into a soft frown, “I only wanted to tell you what me and Syk thought of.”

“Oh?” Intrigued, she raises a brow, “Continue.”

“Gee, thanks for letting me this time.” You mumble, rolling your eyes, “So. We thought we’d stream together. The catch? In the same room! We’ll be playing Cyberpunk. Gotta cash in while the hype is still up.” You add, making her snort, “And, ya know, the whole cat boy business...We’ll be wearing matching cat ears. Admit it, I’m a genius.”

She’s quiet for a moment, mulling over your words; you can practically see the gears in her head turning. She glances around the room, then briefly at you, strangely apprehensive. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Well, that is definitely not what you expected her to say. You figured it’d be more along the lines of you’d be one ugly cat. “Huh?” Is all you manage to stutter, “What do you mean?”

She gives you a look, one all people give when something is so plainly obvious, “Y/n. You do know the stans will go wild, right? And you do remember our conversation involving Corp-”

“Nope!” You exclaim cheerily with a bright smile to match. You don’t want to think about that. The relationship between you and Corpse is strictly platonic, and besides, seeing Twitter loosing their shit is always funny, and you never miss an opportunity to mess with your fans. Sykkuno is also a good friend, albeit a new one. This supposed flirting from Corpse’s end Rae deduced was nothing more than her projecting her feelings onto the situation. She always liked shoujo anime and was probably thinking one was happening right in front of her. Not a chance. Corpse was just being a friendly crackhead. Your energies mesh beautifully.

Like, beautifully in a strictly friend way. Absolutely nothing more than that.

She gives up, naturally, arguing with a wall would be more productive than arguing with you. You’re such a (Zodiac sign).

“Well,” She mumbles, ticking her head to the side, leaning off of the door frame and turning to leave, “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

Your grin melts as soon as she leaves. Glancing at your bag, you shove your last necessities in with newfound hesitance. 

Nothing bad will happen, right?

...Right?

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It is well past the generally set “appropriate” time to hang out, but since quarantine, what is appropriate anymore anyway? You’ve never been in Sykkuno’s apartment, but now that you’re here it’s...strangely him. Every corner seems tailored to his specific requirements. It’s cozy, and pleasantly warm - it’s a bit chilly in LA, as surprising as that is.

He’s even shyer than you remember him being. And a whole lot more awkward, but in an endearing way, a way that makes you want to laugh and try to reassure him that it’s just you and he has nothing to worry about. While you hung out only once, the history you share is rich and tender. From him following you on Twitter and subsequently prematurely ending your stream, to kidnapping a stray cat affectionately named Juan. His long lost brother, Juan (no the Second, just Juan), lives in your Minecraft server. 

His stream room is sadly bare. There’s an appalling lack of merch or fairy lights. Not even led-lights. It’s a good thing you brought your own. As you try to decided which color would be best - his signature lime green, reminiscent of his adorable Among Us astronaut, or, perhaps, mischievous violet? - he boots the game and tweets out a quick “streaming with y/n in ten mins! come one come all!” 

“You should probably tell your fans, too.” He mumbles, looking somewhere above your shoulder. You settle with cherry blossom pink. Glancing at him, you shrug.

“Ah, do it for me, please?”

“Oh!” He hiccups, “Uhm, I wouldn’t want to pry and I don’t know your password and-”

“It doesn’t have a password.” You had removed it, knowing something like this would happen. Bless your foresight, you did not want him to know it was demonspiitinmymouth. Before he could protest further, you rush to the nearest mirror to put on your cat ears and make sure they aren’t crooked. You look absolutely adorable. The cat boys in your dms will go feral. Hell, you might just go feral looking at yourself! Sykkuno is not ready. No one is. This will be a stream to remember.

When you return (with flourish of course), he’s anxiously fidgeting by his computer, his own little cat ears, one’s he wore for the Halloween stream, peaking out from his silky brown hair. You have to suppress a squeal. When he catches you gaze he gives the kindest, sweetest little smile.

“They, uh--” He points at you, then decides it’s rude to point, bringing his hand back to his lap, then clutching his mouse, lastly releasing a sound stuck between a chuckle and a wheeze, “suit you, uhm, a lot!” He finishes with a resolute nod, quickly spinning in his chair and away from you.

This is the reaction you desired. All is going according to plan. Is this what God feels like? If not, then you pity her. She’s missing out.

Taking a seat next to him - he had been gracious enough to haul you a spare chair from the kitchen - you draw closer, and he, instinctively, shrinks away with another nervous chuckle. 

“You have, uhm... I-I didn’t look!” He quickly chimes. You raise a brow, “Uhm, unopened messages? From Corpse? He texted you when I was tweeting! I didn’t mean to look, I’m sorry-”

Instantly, you recall the famous vine with the scandalous “daddy chill” line, though refrain from saying it aloud. You love havoc, but you’re not evil (Rae would ardently disagree with you, though). Instead, you just shrug, “’S fine, don’t worry. I’ll text him back later. Let’s start?”

He nods, but doesn’t look at you. Granted, you don’t think he glanced at you even once since you returned, “...Okay. Ready?”

“Ready!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You’re much too immersed into the game and Sykkuno’s twitch chat to even check what’s happening on Twitter, but your estimated guess is that everyone’s going crazy. The stream chat is unruly as well, but missing the signature Twitter spark. Most of the chaos is bravely lead by your fans. Sykkuno’s, much like the man himself, are too nice to scream so unabashedly.

Perhaps you excitement had been a bit too taxing, perhaps drinking 5 coffees and 2 energy drinks today and not enough water are to blame for the sudden drowsiness you’re feeling, but you can’t focus on the swimming chat or the abundance of cut-scenes at the starting point of the game. You steadily draw nearer and he, more composed in front of his audience, doesn’t react. About ten more minutes of hoovering by his shoulder and muttering soft commentary, and you feel yourself slipping.

The last coherent thought you have is a few choice words directed at caffeine itself for having the opposite effect of you at the worst time possible.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You float in oblivion for perhaps ten minutes at best. Once you awake with a startle, you shower Sykkuno in shy apologies and he quickly reassures you that it’s fine and that he didn’t mind at all!

“Though,” He adds after a thoughtful pause, “not sure if it was very, uh, comfortable?”

His stream chat spams uwu and variations of similar kind. The stream continues for a few more hours before the both of you wish everyone a good night. 

While you planned on wreaking absolute havoc, this sudden falling asleep was unexpected. You pondered the consequences of such an innocent, unplanned act whilst ubering home, fearing to check your phone which by now was blowing up with not only Twitter notifications but also Rae’s angry messages that vaguely read “what the fuck y/n”. Within the past two hours she had left 57 messages on all platforms collectively, including 7 calls. 

Corpse’s last text was over three hours ago.

Now that’s strange. Worry festers quickly. Briefly glancing at your surroundings - the pretty glimmer of passing street lights, neon signs, familiar buildings - you decide that it’s time to check what kind of nuclear explosion you’ve caused.

Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach as you scroll past the hundreds of tweets and mentions. Scan through Rae’s messages. 

You had failed to prepare ahead. Every explosion of such kind is followed by nuclear winter. And Corpse’s lack of messages feels especially cold.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Not you smiling like a fucking idiot reading his last message! You shrink into the backseat, afraid the driver will accidentally look into the rear-view mirror and see you a bit too happy before asking questions. Good news? Yeah, but it’s not like it’s his any beeswax! In the words of Rihanna, just shut up and drive. 

This argument had not yet happened, but you’re preparing, just in case. 

As you think up of potential scenarios, your eyes drill into Corpse’s goodnight text. You’ve looked at it enough. Time to turn the phone screen off. Leave the app, at the very least. When the screen dims you instantly press on it to wake it up. This is embarrassing. Maybe the deadly amount of caffeine really did mess you up, big time. Your heart races in your chest, painfully almost. You feel a bit sick. Worst of all, you can’t stop smiling.

A notification from Rae makes you snap out of it. Ah, one more demon to deal with. 

However, before you talk to her, you really need to tell Twitter that you’re not with Sykkuno. And apologize to Sykkuno as well. 

At least Corpse doesn’t hate you.

Fucking hell, just exit the chat you idiot!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[rpf-bat]

Flufftober Drabbles, Day 17: Animal Shelter

It’s 8 PM, but I finished it! ^_^

It’s Niko/Aleksi and it’s 799 words. 🐈

Aleksi was walking through Esplanadi Park, dragging Rilla along by her leash, waiting for her to finish doing her business so he could head home.

“Just pick a patch of grass, Rilla,” Aleksi sighed, shivering in the chilly autumn air. “I promise they all smell the same.”

Rilla sniffed the ground hesitantly, apparently unwilling to take his word for it.

Suddenly, Aleksi heard a sound behind him. It sounded like someone….crying?

He turned, and saw a man in a yellow beanie, sitting on a park bench. His face was buried in his tattooed hands.

“Uhh…,” Aleksi blinked awkwardly, “Are you okay, man?”

“No,” the stranger confessed, picking his head up. Aleksi was stunned by how pretty the man’s green eyes were.

“What’s wrong?” Aleksi asked curiously.

“I…I lost my cat,” the man explained, wiping his eyes.

“Oh, no!” Aleksi cried. “Do you want us to help you look for him?”

“….Us?” the brown-haired man blinked.

“This is Rilla,” Aleksi introduced, indicating the small, black dog at his feet, “and I’m Aleksi.”

“I’m Niko,” the man replied. “And thank you, Aleksi - but I’m afraid it’s no use. I’ve been wandering around for an hour, calling his name. I don’t think he’s here.”

“How did he get away from you?” Aleksi asked, feeling concerned.

“I just moved to Helsinki, from Oulu,” Niko explained. “While I was moving all my stuff into my new apartment, I left a door open, and he got out.”

“I’m sorry,” Aleksi frowned. “Have you tried going to the animal shelter? Maybe someone picked him up, and thought he was a stray, and brought him there.”

“I don’t even know where the nearest animal shelter IS!” Niko cried.

Rilla barked at Niko’s raised voice.

“I…I’m sorry,” Niko stammered. “I didn’t scare her, did I?”

“No, she’s fine,” Aleksi assured him.

Rilla padded closer to the bench where Niko was sitting, as if to prove his point.

Niko stuck out his hand. Aleksi noticed that his nails were painted black.

Rilla gave his fingers a curious sniff, before licking them gently.

“I think she’s trying to comfort you,” Aleksi guessed. “Want to pet her?”

“Oh, can I?” Niko’s eyes widened.

Aleksi nodded.

Emboldened by his permission, Niko scooped Rilla up into his lap, and began patting her head. Rilla nuzzled closer to him, clearly enjoying the attention.

“She doesn’t normally warm up to strangers so fast,” Aleksi mumbled.

Then again, neither did he. But, he felt so bad for Niko. What a terrible first day in the big city!

“I know where the nearest animal shelter is,” Aleksi said softly. “If you want, I can take you there?”

“You’d do that?” Niko gasped. “You don’t even know me, man.”

“It’s not far,” Aleksi shrugged. “We can walk there.”

“Okay,” Niko decided, setting Rilla back down on the ground.

“C’mon, girl,” Aleksi encouraged, tugging at the leash. “Let’s go.”

He tried to make conversation, as they walked down the city streets.

“So, what brought you to Helsinki?” he asked.

“My band just signed a record deal,” Niko explained.

“Oh, you’re a musician?” Aleksi gathered. “That’s cool. I play music for a living, too.”

“What genre of music do you play?” Niko asked.

“EDM, mostly,” Aleksi replied. “Oh, hey, we’re almost here.”

He pointed to a large sign, which read Helsinki Humane Society.

Niko practically ran into the building.

“Excuse me,” he asked the receptionist frantically, “has anyone brought in a white cat today?”

“Um, yes,” the girl at the front desk nodded. “Someone actually just dropped a cat off twenty minutes ago. Want me to bring him out here, so you can see if he’s yours?”

“Yes, please!” Niko begged.

The blonde woman disappeared into the back room.

“What are you going to do if it’s a different cat?” Aleksi asked.

“I….I don’t know,” Niko admitted. He looked like he was going to cry again.

Aleksi cursed himself silently for opening his big mouth. He should know better, than to be so pessimistic.

The blonde volunteer returned, cradling a fluffy cat in her arms. It had big green eyes, just like Niko’s, and a patch of black fur just above its right ear.

“ROMMI!” Niko cried, running over to grab the cat out of the lady’s arms. “That’s him! That’s definitely my cat!”

“I’m glad you found him,” the lady smiled.

Rommi meowed loudly, clearly happy to see Niko again, too.

“Oh, my sweet little guy,” Niko cooed, petting Rommi gently. “I really thought I lost you.”

Rommi purred, as if letting him know he was okay.

“Aleksi,” Niko called, glancing in his new friend’s direction, “thank you so much. How can I ever repay you?”

“Hmm,” Aleksi said with a mischievous smile, “maybe you could give me your number - or take me out to dinner?”

[whyyoulikethis12321]

Of Verdigris Waves and Judas Kiss(P. 1) || Yan. Zhongli x Fem. Reader X Childe

Rating: M (for now..)

Word count - 1.7k+.

Warnings: Swearing, Childe.  

She sat alone on the sand, waves lapping at her feet, Yaoguang shore, verdigris green as far as her eye could see. The sun shined ripples on the water, the salt spray smell in the air. Being alone was something she was used to, she supposed, staring at the horizon but not at anything in particular.

It hurts first, she thought, but then you become companions with the voices in your mind. It wasn't easy, but it was better than the alternative, she thought, shuddering despite the warm rays of the sun on her skin. 

“Better than being with those monsters, anyway.”

She still remembered being lured by the monster in gold, with his friend laughing maniacally, as if she was a new toy to be played with.

To be broken and tossed aside.  

“Stupid, stupid, stupid”, she said, punctuating every stupid with a hit in the head with the flat of the wrist. 

“Did her father not remind her of the monsters that spoke in silvery tongues, all smiles and temptation?”

She did not know how much time had passed, with night blurring into dusk, into day, into dawn, and again and again….

The monster in gold, who was called…Zhongli?, by the one clad in grey, was more sympathetic, more soft. That didn't stop her from trying to fight back by throwing the food at his face. 

Fuck him for fooling her, by tying her with him with the red threads of his contract. 

He had left her, had said she must not have wanted to see him. Understatement of the century. 

Her mind went to Childe, her other captor. The one clad in red and grey clothes.

She shuddered. He was someone who made her skin crawl and stomach twist. He looked like an average human normally, enough to ease the suspicions of most. Not her. 

She had seen him, staring at her in Liyue, claimed to be from the Fatui.

She alone saw his eyes. Those aquamarine eyes without life. 

Her father once told her that eyes were the windows to ones soul. Did that mean that he had none? For in his eyes, you see the depth of the ocean, of carnage and violence and most scariest, soul numbingly cold…loneliness. His eyes promised madness of a thousand different ghosts haunting your very being, and didn't even hide his insanity. 

It was as if he never learned to be what it was to be a human, and merely copied the mannerisms. 

His smile, a pale imitation of a grin, like those paper windwheel asters children made. Not quite like the real thing, and clumsily done.  

Someone tapped her shoulder lightly, and she flinched, turning back, grabbing some sand in her hand to throw at whoever caught her off guard. 

“Whoa! Steady there, I mean you no harm, I promise!”, a stranger with tanned skin raised his hands in self defence. “I just wanted to know what’s the nearest way to Liyue Harbour! I saw you alone, so I assumed you might be a native so..”, his voice trailed off, noticing her still wary expression, sand still in her hand. 

“Why don't you just calm down, and we can have a nice civilised chat?”, he asked her tentatively, eyes still on the sand on her hand. 

She relaxed, and stood straight, the pose of a warrior, clothes fluttering in the stray breeze.

One could declaw a cat, but never take away its distrusting nature. 

“What do you want?”, she barked, trying not to betray her tension. 

“One wrong move, and everything I've built up will come crumbling down, and they will know, and they will hurt me”, she tried not to panic, lest those monsters who had imprisoned her, whet their appetites in response to her fear. 

“Just- just take me to Liyue harbour and ill get out of your hair”, he 

asked, his hand gripping the back of his neck sheepishly. “ I’m very bad with directions, and I got lost. So I was wandering around till I met you! ”

Impossible. She did not simply get visitors like that. But maybe… maybe they didn't notice, and this human stepped in unknowingly. 

Maybe… she dared not to think it, for fear that they would somehow hear her in her mind. Maybe she could escape this hellhole, this mockery of freedom given to appease. 

She would humour him. Until he revealed his true motives, where she would slit his throat and leave him to rot, as a message for them. 

Its not like they would listen, she thought, dark grin lacing her mouth, but she could try. Her minds voices, grinning and feeding her with malicious ideas, so much in number. 

She smiled, canines flashing. The man, shivered. 

“Lets go then. We should be careful, as the road would not be safe at night.” 

“Uh- sure.”, the man said, not knowing of the dark thoughts in her.

They followed a familiar road, one of her childhood memories. She prayed that nothing should change, everyone still waiting for her and ready to forgive her when she goes back. 

“Oh, may I know your name? It feels weird to have you as my guide and not know your name.”, he said still talking to her as he was walking through the path, grassy plains as far as the eyes could see, a welcome change from endless blue sea. 

She didn't know what this man’s ulterior motive was, yet he was her ticket out of this gilded cage, so she would humour him.

“<y/n>”

“Oh is that so? My name is Haotao. Please to make your acquaintance!”, he said, a smile bursting like the sun after the torrid rains in liyue. “So, what where you doing sitting in Yaoguang shoal? You seemed lonely there.”

“I-”, she stuttered at his sweet and trusting nature, not sure if she wanted to tell him the truth, deciding against it. No use telling him things he was better off not knowing. She settled on the half truth. 

“I wanted to go to liyue, but was afraid.” It was true, as she had begged Zhongli to take her to Liyue. 

But he had imprisoned you in Yaoguang shoal. 

“Like a treasure hoarded by a dragon”, Zhongli cooed, “I of all people should know”.

 She and her new travel partner followed footprints along a path worn by walking. Dusk was falling, signalled by rippling hues of pink and yellow. 

“Why so?”, he asked curiosity shining in his eyes.

Her mind flashed to things you hadn't thought in so long. How long was she stuck there? Was everyone in liyue harbour still there?

Had her friends and loved ones already forgotten about her?

Her eyes welled up in tears, the first sign of weakness from her. She sniffled as the man- no Haotao’s face went from curiosity to sadness. Without asking her, he reached into his pockets to produce a napkin. 

She accepted this piece of human kindness dabbing at her eyes, weeping over the amount of terror she chose not to think about, while she was imprisoned. 

“You know”, Haotao said quietly, “I was afraid of travelling, of leaving my family, but things were hard and someone close to me gave me a needed push. Its been so long since I came back, and I lost my way.”, he gave a sad laugh, looking up at the sky, signalling it was dusk with its rippling hues.

“Can you believe it? I forgot the way to my own family. Pathetic, is it not?”

She just looked at him, wondering what his point was, when he turned red and cleared his throat. 

“I- I mean to say, that everyone gets lost, and so the simplest thing to do when you're lost is, listening to your heart.”

She kept looking at him measuredly, and said, “I take back everything I thought about you, Haotao.” 

To which he grinned, and said, “Should I have been worried about what you were thinking about me?”

She stared at him and in a serious voice, said “Yes”. 

And chortled at his blanched expression. 

His eyes went wide, as he laughed along too, till the both of you were wiping your tears and clutching your stomach. 

“You know, that was the first time I laughed so much in the company of a stranger”, Haotao said. “The fact that I was caught unawares? Damn.”

“That was the first time I laughed in so long as well. I did not know that I was capable of that”, she breathed out in wonderment. 

“Maybe, we could still see each other? I could show you my family and we can walk around the best food stalls in liyue where you can show me around?”, he stammered, sweat lacing his brow.

Oh. It clicked.  

He was asking her on a date. She never thought such a day would come where she would be asked normally like this. 

Before she could reply, something rustled in the fields behind her. 

She was instantly on high alert, her muscles taut, every fibre in her body singing at her to run. “Fuck!”

Haotao was surprised, and as he opened his mouth, she whispered, “Please don't talk”

He shut up, but that didn't stop swivelling his head from left to right. 

She shouldn’t have let her guard down. 

The real monster wasn't her travelling partner. 

She couldnt even take note of whatever shape was behind, night falling, with only the light of the full moon to guide her. 

She turned around, as the pinpricks of the liyue lanterns shined in the horizon, estimating the distance. 

They could make it, if they ran. Before she tried to convey what she wanted Haotao to do, a sharp clap pierced the air, as her captor emerged from the shadows.

It was Childe, deranged grin illuminated by the silvery rays. 

“Well, my little minx, I see you’ve finally taken notice of me”, the man in grey hugged himself in mock sadness. 

“I was practically displaying the fact that you were followed. Yet you were too busy pouring your heart out to a stranger.”

Oh. It clicked.

The lack of security. Why she could just walk out. She thought that she was alone. 

She was trailed, like a hunter at a doe, the prey none the wiser. 

“I cant wait to tell this to Zhongli. After all the posturing and begging him to give you privacy. I cant wait to see him react to this.”

“Maybe…he might even kill your companion?”

“Don’t!”, she screamed involuntarily. Haotao was one person she could not allow getting hurt. 

His blinked. Once, then twice. Then doubled over laughing. 

That bastard. He found out her weakness, and she would pay. 

[h4chi]

— # R.E.M

SUMMARY when exploring a city you’ve never been to before you found yourself in a place you’ve dreamt of many times, and the person you’ve always seen there is here too.

GENRE strangers to lovers

WARNINGS swearing, mentions of food, lowercases intended, not proofread yet. english is not my first language

PAIRING junkyu x female reader

WORD COUNT 917

listened to this a bit while writing :)

NOTE lavander roses symbolize love at first sight, kkum (꿈) means dream

send an ask to be added to the Treasure taglist!

TRESURE MASTERLIST !

seoul, south korea’s capital city. it was always your dream since a child to visit the metropolis.

you’ve always envied the tall skyscrapers, so many restaurants and shopping centers, the loads of people roaming the streets.

coming from a small city like boseong, famous for its green tea you grew tired of, where everyone know you and going to the nearest shopping center takes more than 20 minutes by car, big and chaotic places always fascinated you.

that’s why, when your teacher suggested an educational trip to seoul, you agreed without a second thought.

and as of right now, you were walking through the busy streets, a snack bought from one of the many food stalls in your hand.

your professor had given you and your classmates the rest of the day to freely wander around the city, only having to meet later at the hotel where you’re staying at 7pm. you decided to explore the city by yourself, as everyone’s plans didn’t quite caught your interest.

walking alone had its pros and cons: for example, you didn’t have to wait for anyone (as you’re alone), and you didn’t have to visit shops you weren’t interested in. as a con, you were scared of getting lost. therefore, you tried following road signs, sometimes stopping by a shop to have a look. so it caught you by surprise when you accidentally lost the main street when following a stray cat.

“shit. i’m lost.”

walking around the block in the hopes of finding familiar road signs, you ended up in multiple dead ends. groaning in frustration as you kept on going, only to realize after that you always ended up at the starting point, meaning that you wasted the last hour walking in circles.

it was getting late when you decided to give up, your phone long dead. so you decided to seat on a bench in the park, a beautiful fountain that seemed oddly familiar at arm reach.

when the sun started setting, realization hit you. you’ve already been here, in your dreams. that’s why the fountain reminded you of something. the red lights of the setting sun reflecting on the clear surface of the now darker white fountain, in the middle of a small square, and vases of lavander roses adding color to the green benches.

you didn’t notice it immediately, but the same guy you used to see (in your dreams) feeding the little cat you realized you’d been following before, was there too. and as of clue, he turned around, big doe eyes scanning you.

it felt like words caught up in your throat, breathing fastened and mouth slightly agape at the pretty face looking at you.

“do you need anything?” your perplexed face probably alarmed him, because he was now paying no more attention to the cat, rather standing up and turning all his body your way.

“is it really you?” was all you could say, barely a whisper yet it seemed like he caught your words, and much to your surprise they didn’t shock him.

he took a seat next to you, a few meters away for safety distance.

“may i know your name?”

it took you a few seconds to answer, still not over the silly coincidence the universe had decided to play for you today.

“i’m… kkum.” you said the first thing that came in mind, deciding not to reveal (yet) your real name. he was handsome, yes, but still a stranger (you had encountered many times when sleeping though).

“well, kkum, may i know what you’re doing here?”

“i got lost.”

he hummed, slowly nodding his head. “where are you headed to? i cant take you to the main street.”

you smiled thankfully, the universe might’ve heard your prayers after all. “i’m staying at the [hotel name].”

he stood up, offering a hand. “i know where that is. follow me.”

he was such a gentleman and of nice company, his bubbly personality helping a lot melting the ice. and you learned that his name was junkyu, kim junkyu.

“you know, my name’s not really kkum. i’m yn.”

he just laughed it off, saying a simple “yeah, didn’t seem like it.” he was nice enough to show you his favorite attractions, also explaining a few details and curiosities he remembered studying at school.

telling him you had to be back by 7 pm, you decided to take it slow, occasionally stopping to buy something to keep your stomachs full, him being the gentleman that he is paying for the both of you. he enjoyed your company, and the feeling was definitely mutual. junkyu dropped you in front of the hotel, standing there to wait until you safely got in.

“i had fun, yn.”

“yeah, me too.” the both of you stood there, not sure what to say. you were both strangers, after all.

“i’m sorry to have bothered you early, and thank you for spending time with me and help me back. i’ll have to pay you back one day.” you smiled, nodding your head at the taller boy.

“you know, you could pay me back by giving me your number.”

your eyes widened slightly, not expecting him to be so straightforward. nonetheless you still typed in his phone your own number, junkyu smiling lightly at his new contact.

you said goodbye one last time before you entered the building, junkyu waiting for you to disappear before raising a fist in the air as sign of victory, happily skipping back home.

© H4CHI 2022 do not copy or repost anywhere.

[vidalinav]

A Kinder Sea: Chapter 1

Summary: After the IC give Nesta an ultimatum Nesta chooses instead to support herself, cutting herself off from them completely and so begins Nesta’s journey of finding a job and falling in love with everyday life (Slice of Life/Fix-it Fic)

Masterlist, Chapter List 

Dedicated to you Noni!

~

Three flights of stairs later and Nesta could feel the muscles in her legs quake, and she wasn’t even on her floor. Even after all these months she was still not used to the stairs. They wound up the apartment building in a way that offered no shortcut.  

To get to her apartment, she’d need to pass every door on each level, each apartment spiraling around the building like a dome. Nesta’s was at the end. At the very top and the last apartment on the fifth floor. It was the cheapest one she could find in Velaris, and when she’d moved in she understood why.  

Never mind that the entire layout seemed impractical, Nesta often wondered what would happen if a fire broke out. She could only imagine jumping from the fifth floor like a flying squirrel, landing in that lone tree at the center of the complex. Then she’d really be lost to the wild, as her sisters probably thought now.  

She could hear the pounding footsteps of the floor above and Nesta rolled her eyes. Two little boys came trampling down, running as if they were made of air. They did not so much as huff as they bounced the ball they carried and Nesta held her breath as they passed. No sense in showing them that she couldn’t make it to her floor without panting out a lung.

“Hi Ms. Nesta!” One yelled.

“Bye Ms. Nesta!” The other called.

Nesta didn’t get the chance to answer before they were gone. Matching red shirts disappearing to lower levels. Her eyes tried to follow them as she grasped the railing for the fourth set of stairs. She couldn’t catch the youngest’s dark curly hair or the oldest’s green shoes and Nesta lugged herself up, sighing in defeat.  

She wondered if falling down four floors was enough to knock herself out--if the beautiful fae male on the first floor would perhaps carry her up, gods knew she’d survive the fall. But no... Nesta couldn’t chance it. With her luck, no one would even notice, and she’d have to pick herself up, shame and all, and climb them all over again.

She supposed she could always pretend to be napping. Lie under that tree and the beautiful azure sky like she hadn’t fallen four floors. The summer sun, Nesta would say to her neighbors if they asked. Such a beautiful day to be out here. Picnics and all.

Why are your legs broken then? They’d say.

None of your business, she’d answer in that haughty tone of hers.

Nesta laughed at her own thoughts... But as she looked back at all those steps, her smile dropped. Nesta could only tip her head back and groan.

She’d chosen the apartment because it was the cheapest, yes, and she’d regretted it every day since. Not enough to move, but perhaps she was just too stubborn. Even when her sister had asked with that tone of hers why she lived there, or when the silence between them was enough of a proclamation that Feyre did not approve, Nesta held onto the apartment. Nesta held onto it like it belonged to her. Like she owned it and Nesta knew she owned nothing. The city might as well have been signed under Feyre Archeron and her insufferable mate—property owned and sold by the Night Court’s finest and Nesta was not ashamed to say the thought made her bitter.

Nesta could not run far enough away to escape her sister, and now her sister thought she owned her too.

She began the trek up, breathing through the burn of her thighs, trying to focus on the movements of her body rather than the berating voice of her mind, but the anger was a tight first pulling at her skull.

Forget them. They mean nothing to you, Nesta told herself.

You mean nothing to them, a voice whispered back.

She could only agree, and Nesta couldn’t help but lean over the railing. Four floors and then five, contemplating that height.

The only time she hadn’t regretted this apartment was when spring came in a flurry of rainstorms. She’d watched from her balcony window the rain pour down on the city below, gloomy and perturbed that her night of drinking had been postponed indefinitely. But when days had passed and the sun at last began to peek out once more, and she unashamedly ran to the nearest tavern, Nesta had caught a glimpse of that lone tree at the bottom. It had bloomed in magenta and white, it’s flowers swaying to a soft breeze.  

She’d gripped those rails and stood there, didn’t even know if she made it to the bar that day. Nesta had stayed there for hours looking at those colors—to each door, each floor thinking that the building itself bowed to that tree, protected it in its sacred embrace. Nesta, herself, had bowed to that tree that day as she leant over the railings.

She could imagine the petals still, the wind picking them up as if it might gift it to her. She’d wished for Elain then... hoped that she might come—forget what she said about her life being separate from theirs. But Elain never came... Elain never visited her once.

Now, Nesta thought, Elain didn’t deserve to see it at all.

The thought of her sister made her chest thrum with unsettled words—and Nesta chastised herself for her straying thoughts and that restless anger she didn’t know what to do with.

The summer had taken away the beauty of spring and there were no flowers left when the sun beat across the sweltering concrete and all Nesta knew for sure was that she was sweaty and exhausted, her chest heavy in a way that she usually only felt after a long night of drinking and getting nowhere. The stairs were usually a punishment then, a pain she’d only vaguely complain about the next day when she did it again, lugging herself up flight after flight.  

She supposed this was a punishment, too.

Nesta could see her door as she managed the last step and she could have flopped down right then and there, but she raised her chin instead because the stairs would not best her today.

Neither would her snooty sisters. Neither would her mind that wouldn’t stop thinking of them.

The surest way to forget, Nesta learned, was wheat, barley, and hops or whatever the tavern made ale with. She could practically hear the tumbling drunken voices as she walked to her door. She’d drink the memories away, music filling the space where her thoughts had once gathered. Let them return in the morning with the headache and the dry throat that would surely accompany like loyal friends—old friends that Nesta had begun to miss.

She fumbled with the lock on her door with that thirst in her throat, her mouth parched for the taste of it. The key jammed as she twisted it and Nesta shoved it harder in its slot.

“Are you serious?” She asked the door. The dingy, brown-painted wood did not reply and Nesta groaned as she kicked it. Nesta fiddled with the lock, turning the key over and over, slamming the door with her body, and when the lock would still not budge, she pointed to the door as she had to the King of Hybern. “Open up you blasted thing!”

Meow.

Nesta turned to the black shadow that poked its head out of the wall, clenching her fists at the interruption.

"Shoo,” she said as she waved her hand.

Meow, the cat sounded, tilting its ghostly head.

Nesta could make out no mouth or eyes and she didn’t know how she could hear its cry, but she’d stopped asking questions about the logic of the fae world the first weeks of becoming fae. It did her no good when she was hungover or tired... which were most days, and it was not the first time the little shadow cat seemed to come out of the walls and greet her at her door.

She pointed to the shadow merely wagging its tail like the arrows of a metronome. “At least you can get inside,” Nesta grumbled.

The shadow cat tilted its head as if contemplating her statement then rolled onto its back, offering its belly. Nesta didn’t know what solution that might have wrought so she ignored its luring movements.

“I’m allergic to cats,” she haughtily replied.

Nesta pulled the key from its slot and slammed it in once more. She wiggled it back and forth, her face feeling hot with frustration. The cat meowed louder as it jumped up, coming to rub itself against her leg.

Nesta raised her hands in defeat, sighing as the door stubbornly stayed closed.

“Fine,” she said, looking to the little shadow. “You win.”

The cat bobbed into her outstretched hand, and Nesta crouched low, scratching behind its ears. The shadow’s fur felt as soft as silk, and she wondered why it didn’t feel like air like she thought it should. The cat meowed again, and Nesta huffed. Attention hog, she thought, but the cat merely rubbed against her, purring sweetly.

“You know, you’re far less judgmental than most people I know,” she said. The cat flopped on its back again and Nesta went for its belly. The cat swatted her away with its paws. She swatted back, feeling herself smile lightly at its antics.

At the unconscious raise of her lips, Nesta frowned, but before she could contemplate the distraction, the little cat’s head stood at attention, its body stilling its lazy movements. The cat looked to the stairs and so did Nesta. She could hear the echo of concrete as someone took heavy steps.

When Nesta turned to the cat again, it was gone.  

“No music. No stomping. No parties. No recreational sports. No hobbies. No shouting!” The male shouted.

“What? No laughter?”

“Not if it’s loud,” Nesta’s landlord threatened. She could recognize the nasally tone, the footsteps when he went from apartment to apartment reminding them about rent, leaving notes on their door about policies. Why he frequently climbed those stairs on his own accord Nesta never knew.

But she took note of the feminine laughter, one she’d never heard before.

Nesta recognized all of her neighbors—knew what they looked like, how they talked, their routine on a regular basis. She watched them from her world above and occasionally they would say high, but mostly it was Nesta watching as they interacted in the world below. She didn’t care to know any of their names, she only wanted to know what level of bothersome they would be—what kind of threat.

This voice was new and they didn’t sound threatening, but Nesta knew that she would spend hours looking out of the little peep hole to see if she’d catch a glimpse of that unknown being who laughed as if her landlord was joking. He was not joking.

Nesta certainly wouldn’t stay outside to greet them. She didn't have it in herself to meet one more person who would just stare along with all the rest. As if she was some carnival attraction.

Come see the failure of Velaris. Some say she’s so hideous, she never comes down from that tower.

Nesta looked to her door, the key still stuck in its slot. She could hear them louder this time, their voices clear and ringing.

“No pets. No flags. No patio decorations. Nothing colorful...”

She twisted the key with reckless abandon, slamming herself quickly at the same time she pushed. The door opened easily and Nesta watched her landlord reach the top of the stairs as she shut it quickly.

The door clicked in place with a heavy thump.

Nesta didn’t look back out—didn’t move. She was almost afraid the stout male would be there breathing down the worn paint, some random fae trailing behind like death on her doorstep. She leaned against the door and tried to picture that tree again. The cat with silk-soft fur. The fizz of alcohol that floated to the top. The pop of a champagne bottle as if she had something to celebrate.

But when Nesta closed her eyes, she could only see a shadowy figure standing beyond that worn, thin door. Hovering over it as if it breathed on the back of her neck. Scythe in hand—the grim reaper yelling across its wood in sharp, distinct notes.

Nasal and high-pitched.

Where. Is. The. Rent?

~

Nesta left the windows open to air out the scent that Cassian had so graciously commented on the day before, and the room had become unbearable. The hot sticky sun of a mid-summer warmed her skin, and she kicked her blankets away, feeling as if she’d just bathed. Her hair stuck to her face, but she didn’t bother combing it away. It seemed that all Nesta could do was slouch back and stare at the ceiling.

She had stared at the ceiling all day, couldn’t stop staring at nothing until Nesta hoped it would just collapse on top of her. Popcorn ceiling constellation for wary, vindictive dreams. Not that she remembered many these days.

From her bedside window, she could see the sun had already begun to set on Velaris.

The window was another thing she liked about this place—that she could see the city without ever leaving her bed. She could see rooftops and the interweaving trees. Great twisting oak that she felt might come alive one day, grab her by one of its many branches and hoist her over the city to the sky above.

Nesta didn’t know what time it was. Most days she found herself having slept before realizing she’d ever laid down. She was always tired and just like yesterday and the day before, Nesta had slept to the buzz of cicadas, and she’d woken to crickets chirping. The sound so loud she thought they might be hidden in her cupboards.

But all Nesta could do was sigh...

Nothing much had changed. She was still in her apartment, could still see the endless amount of clothes strewn about, knew that there was nothing to eat in the pantry or the refrigerator.

The crickets chirped, and nothing changed.

Still, she felt different.

And she felt as if the world should look different, too. Rain, because something permanent had happened yesterday morning and the sky wanted to wash it away. The ground shaking instead of her body. The wind roaring instead of her words. But the sky was only dipped in peaches and purples, and the world was still.

The bed creaked as she tumbled out of it and Nesta kicked away the dress she’d worn that gathered at her feet. Maybe she’d burn it, too, because she didn’t want to remember what it felt like to be embarrassed... ashamed.

Maybe she’d keep it.

Because no person, thing, entity, or otherwise was going to take one more piece of her. She’d keep it like the memory of a risen middle finger. Like a power that hummed a furious tune.

For now, she’d throw the dress in the corner with the rest of the clothes and hope it took up space in a room that was mostly bare.

That was her apartment’s fault. It was too large, even without a bedroom. A studio Nesta couldn’t fill—didn't want to fill at the time. It was empty and it echoed as she walked. She didn't even have a dining room table. Only a bed that came with the place, a frame that was squeaky and rusted. Her dirty clothes and her shoes strewn about decorated the room, and she was okay with this...

Until he had wandered in.

Some part of her thought she ought to take a bath and wash the grime of the days away. Look somewhat decent. But the thought of him filled her with disgust. She would be decent for no one.

So Nesta went to the kitchen instead, tucked away in the far corner, where the cream-colored shelves sat studiously staring as if to say you haven’t opened us in a while. Nesta didn’t bother with them.

Nesta went to the refrigerator instead, reached above the tall contraption she’d found to be positively fae. Nothing existed quite like this where’d she lived most of her life. They’d had an icebox when it was winter, where they stored uncooked meat if Feyre had come home with excess. But that had rarely happened. In the fae world, it seemed, everything she found a luxury, was common and not worth speaking about.

Nesta reached for the cookie jar that sat at the top, its white hue dusty as she took it down. In it was her security and she couldn’t help but hold it to her chest.

In the beginning, when she’d first started frequenting taverns and hadn’t yet discovered the joys of sex and booze, Nesta was rather serious about cards. Mostly because she was good at playing and males were easy to fool. They’d stare at her breasts, try to make casual chit-chat, all the while Nesta was making bets. They were making their own bets too, of course, who’d go home with her, who’d she kiss in the back hall, feel her up where it was quieter, and the lights were dim. They didn't seem to mind losing money and Nesta certainly didn’t mind taking it.

She stored the bills and coins away in some random jar she’d found in the local grocery store. It was on sale, and it was the first thing she’d ever bought with money of her own.  

Nesta didn’t want to think on what they would call this money, but it was her money. She splayed the bills on the counter, piled up the coins, and when she was done counting, Nesta found she had just enough for next month’s rent... and maybe a grocery run if she’d budgeted well enough. It would have to last her—the groceries. Unless she found a job soon. She’d start looking today...

Tomorrow, she decided.

Today she’d clean herself up. Because tomorrow, she’d have to look presentable whether she wanted to or not. It was not about pride. It was about survival and Nesta had survived worse things than this.

So, who cares about them? Nesta thought. The only person who lives here is me.

~

Something her sister didn’t seem to realize was that getting drunk was free.

Most nights Nesta didn’t even have to buy her own drinks, and the only reason she did was because she’d knew her family would see it. She liked imagining the red of their faces, the clenched fists in which they held the bill. Making them angry seemed to spark some thrill in her that nothing else could replicate.

Now as she sat at the bar, a glass of whiskey in her hands, she almost felt annoyed. Not just because she couldn’t get drunk today, but because even if she did who would see it? Who would care?

Not that they did, anyways.

But she supposed all of them had won in that sense... and the idea that they won, that they had an advantage even now made Nesta want another drink.

“Can I get you another round?” The male asked, sidling up to her, placing his hand on her back.

Nesta didn’t spare him a glance, as she rocked her drink in her hand, “No.”

"You’ve been sipping on that drink since you got here.”

“You've been paying attention, how nice.” Nesta held up the half-finished glass, “I’m fine with this one.”

The male didn’t seem to get the hint as he sat at the stool next to her. He could have been beautiful or a disgrace, Nesta didn’t care. He could have been him and she still wouldn’t have looked.

The whiskey told her that was a lie.

“Come on, just one drink.” He lured, leaning into her. When the male didn’t capture her attention, she heard the slam of his glass on the table. She gave it a sidelong glance, where the liquid spilled on the counter. “What? You’re too proud to drink with someone as lowly as me? Lady Archeron.”

He sang the words, and at the title, Nesta shot him a glare, letting her powers glow through, “if you want to keep your tongue, I suggest getting away from me.”

The fae stepped back at the look.

Good, she thought. Smart. Nesta had no interest in blowing up the bottles stacked behind the bar, and she had no means to pay if it happened. If it happened, he’d have bigger things to worry about then her eyes glowing silver.

Nesta looked to the puddle forming where he’d slammed his drink and gave him another glare.

Leaving this mess? Who raised you?

A waitress huffed a laugh, and Nesta turned towards her. She couldn’t help the scowl she gave the female behind the bar, who took out a rag and wiped the counter clear. “What are you looking at?”

The female only gave her a smirk, humor dancing in her eyes.

Nesta gulped down the last of her drink, slamming the finished glass on the table like the male had done before. She took out a few coins, pushing them forward.

Tonight, she did not feel like another.

~

Finding a job was harder than she expected and Nesta spent most of the morning going from shop to shop asking if they had any availability for work.

Most of the stores had barely begun to open, and only a few gave her concrete answers. The little book shop—Nesta's first choice—had told her that the owner was away and wouldn’t be back for two weeks. The pastry shop, where Nesta might have been happy smelling the sweet scent of bread for hours and sneaking the tarts they’d displayed in the windows, had inquired about skills in which she had few.

By the time she made it back to her apartment, she felt the heavy weight of the rising sun and little more than disappointment settling on her shoulders. She was hungry, too. It seemed that job hunting worked up an appetite that only a job could satisfy, and Nesta could think of nothing that sounded remotely good to fill her.

Nesta had been like that lately. Always hungry. Never hungry enough... or perhaps too hungry to move and search for food in her pantry. Not that she had much in there besides dust bunnies.

She’d taken money out of the jar that morning, though her heart hurt with every silver coin. The bills, in their array of colors, Nesta hadn’t touched—wouldn’t dare if she wanted her rent paid next month. She couldn’t stop thinking about it... the looming sense of dread that accompanied her and her dwindling jar. Her stomach ached with it.

Still, she had enough for a bag of groceries, Nesta told herself... minus the coin for the drink. She shouldn’t have bought it. She should have let the male pay for it.

Nesta didn’t want to dwell as the guilt roared up her chest.

She had enough for some bread and butter, cheese and some fruit. Tea to tide her over. She let that fact comfort her. She didn’t need much. Afterall, she’d starved half her life. There was no difference in doing it now. Nothing new, Nesta decided.

For now, even as her nausea demanded she go home and hide behind her door where she could pretend it was safe, she’d buy a sweet bun for her effort and she would try to enjoy it, too.

There was a grocery store a street down from her apartment and trees lined the sidewalk. Nesta could make out the pinwheels poking out from the ground, rainbow colors spinning so fast she might have gotten dizzy starring at them for too long. Windchimes rang as she approached, and its soft music drifted past as if it were made of dreams. It made her envious. The little shop that could hear music made by the wind.

“Good morning!” An elderly male greeted her as he set down a box of oranges lined in neat rows. Nesta recognized him as one half of the couple who owned the store. She raised a hand in greeting but didn’t say a word instead jumbling past him and the ramshackle array of boxes. Reds and vibrant yellows. Bright greens and dark greens and something shaped like a star.

“Can I help you find anything?” He called, though Nesta had lost him between the shelves. The fae always asked her that as many times as she dared to show her face, and just like the many times before Nesta did not reply. She merely looked to the corner, already knowing its place, where the clear display casings were filled with buns and bread.

Nesta eyed her favorite immediately.

She took the tongs out of the encasing and felt her mouth water, her stomach grumbling its get on with it roar. She picked up the toasted brown, the bun dusted with powdered sugar. She ignored the other sweets trapped inside. Nesta hadn’t wanted to try any of the others. As soon as she’d first bitten into this one, she hadn’t wanted anything else.

She wanted nothing else, as she went to the counter, carrying that little bun wrapped in paper.

The male sidled up the register, clearing his throat as he smiled. Nesta only moved to get her coins and tried not to stare at his face. She didn’t care for the warmth it held.

Liar, she thought. Everyone in Velaris is a liar.

“That will be two silvermarks,” He replied cheerfully.

Nesta pulled out the two coins from her bag and felt her mouth pull into a frown.

Was a bun worth it? She asked herself. Two silvermarks for one bun that would last her only a moment. Apprehension welled up and her stomach twisted in greedy knots. But she set the coins on the counter anyway, the money rattling a harsh ring.

The male dipped his head politely, sliding the silver towards him. Nesta watched as he entered a button on his register and the till opened with a sharp ding.

“We appreciate your business,” he said at last. She nearly grimaced at how chipper he sounded, but he once more smiled warmly and Nesta’s brows furrowed.

Liar times two.

She didn’t note her goodbye even as he called for her to have a nice day and only when she was out of the shop did Nesta unwrap the bun she’d carefully held. She nearly moaned her pleasure as she bit into it. Her favorite part was the yellow custard at the center, and as she took a few more bites, she licked at the cream. Before she knew it the bun was half eaten and Nesta wrapped it once more in paper.

She’d save it. Savor it because it would be the last of them for a while.  

Nesta shuffled along as she walked back to her apartment, cradling the rest of the bun with care.  She blew at her hair that fell into her face, escaping from her braid. It stuck to her sweaty skin. She didn’t like how hot it was, how bright the sun shone, and as she entered the dome of her apartment building, Nesta could only think of getting back into her room, sleeping until it was night again.

No disruptions. No busybodies knocking on her door.

As she looked to the steps, Nesta sighed heavily. She could hear the noise of two little boys.

Oh, right.

“Ms. Nesta! Ms. Nesta!” They called, out of breath.

Nesta waited for them at the bottom of the stairs, but they were not coming from the floors above, but rather the pavilion. They passed that large swaying tree at the center, and Nesta stood straighter as they ran towards her.

“There's a ghost!” The oldest yelled.

“Come quick!” The youngest one said, grabbing on to the skirt of her dress. He pulled her forward and Nesta followed casually, not at all bothered by the notion of ghosts.

They had on matching blue shirts today. Jerseys of some sport Nesta knew nothing about. There were many teams in Velaris, she found, and she never knew if they were from a specific organization or just friends who went out in the world proclaiming that they fit together somehow. Nesta would never do such a thing.

She knew of one group who certainly would.

The youngest let go as he ran towards the laundry room. That was another thing that Nesta thought was strange. To wash clothes by spinning water and dry them using magic. Gods forbid, they hang one piece of cloth.

The boys stopped at the door and waited, and Nesta crossed her arms. “What’s wrong with it?”

“They think it’s haunted,” a voice said from behind.

Nesta turned to find the female leaning up against the tree. She recognized the voice—the light tilt of an accent.

Nesta eyed the fae, taking in the pink fuzzy slippers first. Bunnies, she thought. But Nesta’s gaze caught on the wings tucked so keenly behind her back.

Illyrian.

Nesta almost sighed out her displeasure.

“I gathered, after they said there were ghosts,” she replied.

“There are ghosts,” the eldest boy argued. He held up his hands. “Just wait.”

Nesta shrugged away the female and peered inside. White and dingy washers and dryers were stacked on top of one another. Dutiful soldiers all lined up on each wall. There was an old bubble gum machine at the farthest end that must have stopped working before she was born, because she saw no one ever use it when she came down. Granted Nesta didn’t do it often. But the number of gumballs didn’t seem any lower. It was rusted around the red base, and Nesta didn’t trust the age of the candy inside.  

There was nothing odd about this place, though. She didn’t feel anything off.

“There is no such thing as ghosts,” Nesta said, looking to the boys peering back into the laundry room. She refused to look once more at the female. She squared her shoulders, raised her chin, averted her eyes as she so often did—the way she was good at. Nesta could feel her stare any way.

“You have to believe us!”

“There’s a ghost Ms. Nesta.”

“Did you see a ghost?” Nesta asked, turning to the female who only shrugged a shoulder.

“I might have seen a shadow move around.”

Nesta almost gave her a glare.

“Wait look!”

“See!”

Both boys pointed to the room that began to be overrun by darkness. It reminded her of a shadowed cloud. It filled up the room like water in a bathtub, and Nesta stepped toward it, her brows furrowing as she reached a hand out to feel exactly what the substance was made of.

It felt soft as if she were running her hands down the back of some giant cat.

As if summoned by her thoughts alone, the shadow stepped out of the cloud.  

Meow.

Nesta rolled her eyes as it rubbed its body against her legs.

“It’s just the cat,” She mused.

The three of them merely looked at her as if she’d grown another arm.

Nesta crouched low; her hand held out scratch behind the little cat's ear. She’d forgotten she was holding the bun, and the cat seemed to smell it—to want it.

“Hey!” Nesta yelled, as the cat jumped on her shoulders. Nesta shifted the bun to the other hand, but it seemed to want to crawl down her arm, and she could feel the sharp claws sink into her skin.

“Stay away you mangy thing,” Nesta yelled in outrage. “Pay for your own!”  

The boys laughed, coming closer, petting the menace as the shadow cat purred.

Nesta looked for the female, but the Illyrian seemed to not find them interesting enough. She went back to perch on her tree, or whatever those with wings could do. She could already feel the touch of irritation. Of course, she’d be okay living on the fifth floor. She could fly easily up there without wasting a breath.

“You have a cat!” A voice yelled.

Nesta closed her eyes at the nasally tone.

Just. Her. Luck.  

“No,” the boys said in unison, but the landlord stormed towards them, all shrunken limbs and potted belly.

“I said no pets!” He raved.

“He’s not mine,” Nesta said even as she held it. The cat conveniently had not gotten off her shoulders. In fact, it seemed to want to lounge on them, and she hunched slightly at its claws on her back.

Her landlord sneered, “It sure looks like yours.”

“He’s been here since last fall.” Nesta tried for a haughtier tone, but she couldn’t very wall act arrogant when she couldn’t even stand straight. “He is not mine.”

The landlord wagged his finger, “Vagrant then. I’ll just ought to call the forest prowlers. They’ll tear right into him.”

Nesta blinked at that and she was sure the boys did, too.

“You can’t do that! He’s just a cat,” The oldest said.

“He’s not harming anyone,” The youngest argued. The child’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red and she watched as he clenched his fists while the oldest crossed his arms.

She had to admire them. When she was young, Nesta would have never been so bold. She learned to be bold after her mother had died, and it had done her no good in poverty. Nesta felt for them, felt for the cat—though she didn’t know what kind of creature could eat a shadow.

Nesta didn’t want to ask, but she held up her hand, feeling the regret already settle in her stomach.

“I lied. He is mine.”

Her landlord huffed as if he knew, but Nesta only gripped the cat as it came down her arms. She grasped it in the crook of her elbow. As its body dangled, its tail wagged lazily.

“Get rid of it, there are no pets allowed.”

“Unfortunately, it’s my brother-in-law's pet,” she said quickly, resisting the urge to gag at the phrase. “He told me to take care of it until he could take it back.”

The male paused at that. “Brother-in-law?”

Nesta hummed, “Brother-in-law. It was a gift for my sister, but... she’s allergic to cats. He’s looking to rehouse it. It seems he hasn’t found the right one yet.”

As the landlord sneered, opening and shutting his mouth, Nesta raised her chin. She felt the satisfaction thrum through her at the lie. She was good at making up stories. Perhaps she could find a job in lying through her teeth.

Nesta watched as he took a breath, his face dulling to a peach. She hoped that would be the end of it. She hoped that he’d never get the chance to ask her... brother-in-law... if the story was true. Nesta doubted he would do her any favors.

She didn’t want his favors.

In fact, she’d never mention him again.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to charge a pet deposit then. Nonrefundable. And of course, your rent is going to go up.”

Nesta dropped her custard bun.

“What?” She yelled. “Pets aren’t even allowed!"

“But as you have one, I’m going to have to change the terms of your lease. I’m sure your brother-in-law will have no problem fitting the bill as he’s done before.”

The little shadow cat meowed, wiggling in her arms. She set it down and Nesta watched as it disappeared back into the wall.

Good for nothing...

“You’ll have to keep it on a leash, too,” The male scowled, “I don’t want to break a leg going up the stairs because he’s running about.”

Nesta wanted to tell him that he could break more than just a leg.

“Oh, and make sure he isn't loud. I’d hate to have to terminate your lease early over a noise complaint.”

Her landlord smiled, dipping his head in a mocking bow as he went to yell at another neighbor coming down the stairs. The boys shirked away, looking to the laundry room again.  

Nesta could only kick at the bun at her feet. Now dusted in dirt.

~

Tagged: I’m sorry if you wanted to me tagged and I didn’t tag you. I’m horrible at tagging and you should never consider be reliable for this. I think I tagged everyone who has ever asked to be tagged in any of my random posts of fics. But that’s probably a lie. If you want off/on let me know. I will not be offended nor enthused. I will have only one list from now on. No individual fics. If you asked to be tagged, it’s for all fics. Be forewarned. I’m tired. I hate tag lists. 

@my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger, @highqueenevankhell, @valkyriae, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, 

~

Nesta’s... a little misanthropic. We’re going to beat that out of her through love and healing. 

Personal Anecdote: I put a magnolia tree because at my university there was one in this random place on campus that you couldn’t find unless you knew where the post office was and I was obsessed with sending my mom cards to tell her I was still alive (She lived in a different state). No one ever went there, I never saw more than a few people or maybe they didn’t even know the post office was there. It was tucked in between buildings and it was the definition of serendipity. Little freshman me would go there and sit under it and sometimes eat a taco lol (fried avocado and barbacoa) when I was finished with classes. It bloomed every spring for about three weeks and I yearned for those weeks. I worked so many jobs, took so many classes, but during those weeks the only thing that existed was a tree of magenta and white. I sometimes really miss it. 

[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 36

chapter list / previous / next

“So what is it you call them again?” Talltail’s eyes narrowed skeptically.

“They’re called cars, so I’ve been told.” Jake replied. 

They were crouched a fox-length away from a bright red shiny monster sitting quietly in front of a twoleg den.

“Is it dead?” Talltail asked, instinctively keeping his voice quiet as if he half expected the thing to roar to life any moment.

“I don’t even think they’re alive. At least, it certainly doesn’t smell alive. All I know is when housefolk gets inside one, they start moving”

“Hm.” Talltail kicked a small pebble at it. Nothing. Jake was right about that, they certainly didn’t smell like any living thing. “And what about the lights in their eyes? It’s not fire, but there are lights like that all over the twoleg places.”

“I dunno, housefolk are just good at making light that isn’t hot I guess. Between us, I think their eyesight in the dark is awful.”

“So you don’t even know how twolegs make the things they do?”

“Not really,” Jake shrugged. “But do you understand exactly how plants grow or how birds can fly?”

“Well...no, they just do. I suppose...you sort of have a point.” Talltail admitted. “But I still don’t trust these things. They sound like monsters to me. Let’s keep going, I don’t like looking at it’s eyes, even if they aren’t alive.”

They walked through gardens, keeping to the grass and sparse trees alongside the hard stone Thunderpaths and trails. As the dusky sky turned to a pale gray dawn, they saw twolegs every so often, and many of them paused to look at the two cats walking side by side. Talltail didn’t like going past them, but after narrowly escaping another aggressive group of strays, and a lost dog, Jake eventually convinced Talltail that twolegs were the lesser of the two evils. So, daylight travel it was.

“Just don’t make eye contact,” Jake said. “They’re slow, so even if they want to pet us, we can just run and they’ll give up.”

“They just try petting every animal that walks by!?” Talltail hissed.

“Well some of them, if they can.”

Talltail snorted. The absolute arrogance of assuming that because a couple cats liked them, that meant every cat wanted to be their friend. I don’t try to groom every cat I walk by because that would be weird, Talltail thought with an irritated twitch of his tail. But he was quickly finding most twolegs weren’t necessarily the ruthless predators he’d imagined them to be in his youth. They were, however, incredibly annoying.

But on the brighter side, he’d found that he really had started to get used to the sounds of the town, even though it was still overwhelming. They had to duck behind a house every now and again when a particularly loud string of monsters passed.

“We’re almost there,” Jake assured him. “I’m...mostly sure of it. When we were on the roof, I got a better idea of where we were. The alley cats chased us in the wrong direction, but we should be able to get there without crossing anyone's territory.”

After only a couple more turns down the stone path, Jake raised his tail. “Ah! There it is!” he exclaimed. “See those tall trees up ahead? I’m sure that’s where the park is.”

“Is this ‘park’ actually...safe?” Talltail asked as they grew closer. In the distance, he knew the pines that bordered ShadowClan’s territory were close. There was a ring of twoleg dens blocking it, but such a forested area would surely house prey to some cat.

“Well, twolegs walk through it with their dogs, but they have them on leashes. Don’t worry, I know not all dogs are like Dusty. I won’t make you get slobbered by any more of them,” Jake added quickly when he saw Talltail’s alarm.

“I appreciate that,” Talltail said with a shudder.

The park was a large area with sparse patches of woods and bushes surrounded by large grassy fields. Not the fields Talltail was used to, but very short soft grass that would be impossible to hide in, and most of it stank of stale dog scent. Talltail thought he would be able to relax once they’d reached a more natural familiar area, but even this place felt very...off compared to the woodland and fields he knew. Like the plants and trees were all too...neat.

“Well, it’s still better than the town,” Talltail sighed. “But where to start looking…”

“What exactly are you planning on doing when you find them?” Jake asked with a sideways glance.

“Uh...” Talltail paused. He hadn’t been thinking of it in detail, he’d just been repeatedly telling himself that he’d figure it out when he got there. “I’ll... figure it out when I get there?” he said.

“You don’t want to fight all of them do you?” Jake’s eyes were round with concern.

“No, of course not.” Talltail for the first time felt a stab of guilt for the visitors when he thought of Mole, Reena, and her parents. They had been so kind. Reena had even been his friend for a while. They wouldn’t think so kindly of him after this, but their feelings couldn’t be at the front of his mind. They were protecting a bad cat. Sparrow didn’t even care about the others as much as Hen, he’d practically said so himself. If Talltail could just get Sparrow away from the others somehow, they wouldn’t have to get involved at all.

While he was thinking, Jake had gotten distracted and was looking up at a massive oak tree with long hanging branches splaying out. He had an eager light in his eyes, like a kit hunting a drifting feather.

“We could…get higher? Maybe if we got high up we could see if there are any cats around, or even the pond we’re looking for. I bet you could see the whole area from up there, and the branches are low enough to jump to.”

Talltail looked doubtfully up at the tree. WindClan had keener eyes than most cats, but his nose was still better for searching. Maybe Jake had other motives.

But It’s not as if we’re running out of time. If they’ve hung around for this long, they’ll hang around longer… Talltail thought. He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Jake looked back at him, “You don’t think it’s too dangerous?”

“Well...maybe it’s risky, but less dangerous than what we’ve already done. It’s not as if I’ll let you fall.”

Jake’s plumy red tail flicked high, his vibrant eyes glowing with a mischievous excitement. “Bet I can get up it faster."

With that, he crouched and leapt, hooking his claws into the lowest branch and hoisting himself all the way up with an agility Talltail hadn’t expected from such a stocky cat. Talltail bunched his muscles and jumped up after him, and his paws touched the branch without requiring him to scramble the rest of the way. Keeping his momentum, he jumped again to the next nearest branch up.

He got so caught up in the challenge, Talltail was almost on the fourth branch before he remembered he’d never actually climbed a tall tree in his entire life. He made the mistake of looking down, and the ground below felt dizzyingly far, even though it didn’t feel like he’d gone very high.

“What’s wrong? I’ll be napping at the top before you get there!” Jake called. Great StarClan, how had he gotten three branches above him? 

Talltail looked up. “You know uh...there’s not really many trees like this on the moor.”

“Then this’ll be good practice! Every cat should know how to climb trees!”

“What am I, ThunderClan?” Talltail grumbled. Staring up while newly aware of the drop below him, he felt significantly less confident with his leaps. “Er, Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you get up there exactly?”

“Climbed.”

“Alright, yes, but be more specific.”

“You’re half way up! How did you get to where you are?” the ginger tom flashed him a cheeky grin.

“Dumb luck? I don’t trust my paws! Can’t you tell me where you put yours?”

“Well, I trust your paws, and you should too! Just keep your eyes on where you want to be.”

Swallowing his doubt, Talltail balanced himself with his tail and found it a reliable weight as ever as he leapt. Jake stopped past the halfway point up the massive tree. The branches were separated enough that they could see the whole area around them, but too thin to climb further. For a moment Talltail could almost pretend he wasn’t surrounded on all sides by twolegs with their bizarre dens and contraptions. The call of alarmed birds disturbed from their perching was a welcome sound blocking out the distant rumble of crossing Thunderpaths. He had learned his lesson about looking down and carefully lay himself on the branch to catch his breath. 

Jake lay across from him, and looked thoughtfully at Talltail’s paws. “Huh,” he said, “I didn’t expect you to have duller claws than me.” He flexed his small needle sharp claws and scraped them on the branch. 

“They’re not as sharp, but they're a lot sturdier.” Talltail flexed a paw. “And those wounds are harder to close,” he added with a wink.

But it was true his claws didn’t hook into the bark as deep as he would like. He usually only needed them to grip soft earth while running, or digging.

“How high up do you think a cat can jump from without getting hurt?” Jake asked abruptly, gazing below at the dizzying drop with an amused twitch of his whiskers. He looked like he was enjoying himself somehow.

Talltail glared at him. “Do not ask me that right now.”

Jake snorted with laughter which petered into a quiet purr of contentment as the sun dripped through the branches and danced over his fur. He really did have the brightest orange pelt Talltail had ever seen. The sun caught the ginger and it glowed like the warm fire Jake’s twoleg kept in their home, the vivid stripes swirling along his tufted flanks broken up where the fur was longest. Talltail had never spent so much time trying to memorize all the details of a cat's face. It was odd, the little leap of happiness he felt fluttering around in his heart. Sometimes he caught his breath and it skipped in a way he couldn’t recall ever feeling before when looking at a cat. That’s...weird. Am I getting sick?

He scarcely realized he was staring when he noticed Jake was also looking intently at his face as well. 

Talltail blinked at him. “What is it?”

Jake stretched out and touched his nose to Talltail’s cheek. “Thanks for humoring me. I’m glad you’ve let me come with you this long,” he purred.

“I wouldn’t say I’m humoring you, I wouldn’t even have gotten here without you,” Talltail replied. His ears twitched as he tried to hide the fur prickling on the nape of his neck and the warm blush rushing under his pelt from the unexpected touch. What in StarClan is wrong with me? I think the height is making me light headed.

“I mean with this climb,” Jake laughed. “My friends would have said it was fluff-brained or dangerous and told me to stop messing around. Not that I blame them, we are really high up.”

“Don’t remind me,” Talltail gulped. “I just want to enjoy the view and pretend the ground is nearby. Don’t you have friends who do this with you?”

“They’ll come on long walks with me. I like Quince and Nutmeg, but they don’t always understand me. Sometimes I just feel...this pull to do something different, like in my gut, and I have to do it. Like I see a faraway place from my roof and I think ‘what does everything look like from there?’ And I so desperately want to go there and see.”

Talltail nodded, his whiskers twitching in amusement. It was similar to that excitable longing to dash to the horizon he felt when he was young. It had been a long time since he’d dwelled on it.

Jake continued, “I can’t live my whole life every day eating, sleeping, grooming, even though I like it. I feel like...there’s something else out there, and I’ll be restless until I find out what it is. That’s why I was so glad to meet you again... I love my friends and neighbors, well-- most of them, Tyr can get stuffed. But sometimes I worry I’m annoying them with my fancies.”

Talltail blinked at Jake in surprise. “I can’t imagine any cat finding you annoying.”

Jake snorted. “Oh Talltail, you haven’t been around me long enough! Driving cats up the walls is a talent of mine.”

“Well you’ve certainly driven me up a tree, so there’s that. No other cat would be able to do that.” Talltail rested his chin on his paws. The sun felt so nice warming the dark fur on his back, he’d forgotten all about scanning the area for other cats. 

Jake stretched and inched his forepaws on either side of Talltail. “I’m glad I know you,” he purred.

Talltail was a little caught off guard. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“Well…. I’m...glad I know you too?” 

They sat there in the branches passively grooming each other's ears, and Talltail listened to the breeze whisk through his fur. It wasn’t the familiar winds he grew up with, but he swore he could almost smell the moor carried on them from far away. Before the homesickness could creep up on him again, Jake yawned and stretched.

“Ok, we’ve stalled long enough, we should probably get down now.”

“Right, erm, down.” Talltail still wasn’t brave enough to look.

“Don’t worry, it’s not as if I’ll let you fall. Promise.” Jake winked.

“Are you going to catch me?” Talltail snorted. “I probably weigh as much as you do.”

“I could carry you if I had to! It’s not all fluff under here.”

 Talltail was still doubtful of that, but Jake’s confidence in the whole situation was at least easing his nerves a little.

“I climb trees like this all the time, it’s much easier than it looks. Surely you won’t have too much trouble balancing with that tail of yours.”

Talltail swayed on his paws as he, unfortunately, finally glanced down at the dizzying drop through the branches. Oh stars… He kept his eyes firmly on Jake’s tail and paws, one branch at a time, flinching with each tentative jump, but after some coaxing and at least one instance of Jake grabbing his scruff to steady them, Talltail at last landed down onto safe grass again. He still trembled a bit even as he flexed his claws into the soft earth 

“See, that wasn’t so bad!” Jake chirped.

“Says you, I can't believe you put yourself through that all the time.”

“The height is kind of a rush though, isn’t it?”

“If by rush, you mean vividly imagining the air rushing by me as I plummet to my death? Then yes, absolutely.”

“Aw I bet you could climb all sorts of things if you set your mind to it!” Jake grinned at him.

“I prefer to use my tail for steering my turns,” Talltail retorted. “WindClan are not the climbers of the forest. An old clanmate of mine, Aspenfall, took to climbing better than the rest of us, but he was still pretty bad at it.”

“You really do all have such funny names don’t you?” Jake replied. “Who else is there?”

“What, in my whole clan? well...my mentor was called Dawnstripe. I’m sure I’ve told you about Briarpaw, he’s the one training to be a medicine cat. I had a friend called Ryewhisker as well, and Fawnleap and Lilywhisker...” He listed off several more names as Jake stared. Talltail of course still knew everyone by heart.

“That’s so many cats, how do you keep track of them all?”

“That’s not even half of them! They’re your family, of course you come to know them over time.” He remembered how overwhelmed he had been as a kit, trying to learn the names of all his clanmates. They had been so patient with him.

“So how do you get your names anyhow?” Jake asked. “I heard a rumor your get a cool name when you killed your first enemy”

Talltail purred in laughter. “No, not quite. Our names are much more than that. They’re special to us, you get it when you’ve completed your training and officially become a warrior. No murder required. The first name given to you by your parents represents your roots. Your parents give you your colors and physical traits, so them choosing your first name is to honor them and the life you’ve been given. It’s usually a name referencing something from the world around us, to represent our connection to the area we are born in. Our territory is part of us after all, as important as our clanmates. It’s where you’ll spend your whole life.” Well...it’s where you’re supposed to spend your whole life, he thought with a twinge of guilt.

Jake nodded, “That's simple enough. What about the last part?”

“That’s the important part. It represents a small part of the warrior you become, what you're best known for. Some are more abstract than others. Your mentor, the leader, and the medicine cat discuss with each other about your progress over the course of your training to decide what name you're called to have.”

“That’s so cool! My name doesn’t mean anything, I wish I could earn a cool badge like that. But...What about you? Your first name is Tall, that’s not really a thing like the other names you told me.”

Talltail nodded. “My name is old. In the early times of the clans, you had no name at all until you proved you could survive to adulthood. Back then, if you got a name, it always referenced the most noticeable physical trait about you rather than anything else, so cats could tell you apart on sight. Except for the legendary warriors of course, who were named for their renowned feats, but most cats couldn’t hope to be that special. There was only one meaning to their names, rather than two separate meanings. So my name was planned ahead, a traditional one to honor the cats that survived in those hard times. That’s why my father chose it for me. I guess my tail was freakishly long back then too.” 

“You didn’t get to earn a last name yourself? That doesn’t seem as fun.” Jake said.

“It’s not all about fun! Besides, no name can perfectly represent everything about you. Getting a warrior name is always an honor regardless of what it is. Besides, it is pretty notable isn’t it?” he purred, wapping Jake with his tail for good measure.

Jake sneezed as the fur tickled his nose. “Yeah, I could see you from a mile away with that thing.”

After a bit more aimless wandering, they finally paused for a moment to rest. Jake rolled in the grass, getting burs and twigs and grass shreds stuck in his tufty orange pelt. He looked a bit like a hedgehog.

“You're going to end up dragging the whole park along with you if you keep that up,” Talltail chuckled. 

“Maybe I want to take some back with me. Also I like smelling like grass! It’s nice. You always smell like moor grass.”

Talltail didn’t know how that could be. It had been so long since he’d been home, the moor couldn’t possibly still be sticking to him. But maybe it was harder to get rid of than he thought. 

Jake interrupted his thoughts again. “What would my name be if I was in a clan?”

Talltail snorted. “Your name? I have no idea, it’s not something you can just slap on a cat!”

“Well how do cats who join the clan get named? Does that ever happen?”

“We’ve never had an outsider join in my time but...I think the leader chooses? Even then, I can’t possibly imagine what skills you would prove over the course of training.”

“Well let’s say you’re leader, what would you call me? Just if you had to guess?”

Talltail hummed in thought, looking Jake over as he beamed back at him patiently. He had the goofiest gleeful look on his face, Talltail stifled a purr “Oh I don’t know...Perhaps Flameface.”

Jake laughed at that. “Flameface? That’s a name? That sounds so silly!”

“It’s not silly at all! It’s a perfectly fine name. No sillier than Jake, your name is nonsense! It sounds like the noise you make when you hack up a furball. It only sounds silly to you because you don’t know what it means.”

“Ok, ok that’s fair. What’s it mean?”

“Flame is pretty self explanatory. You are the brightest orange cat I’ve ever seen. And I guess I associate it with you now because your twoleg’s den was the first place I ever saw real fire.”

“I like ‘Flame.’ That part’s cool. But...what, does my face look like it’s on fire?”

“No, no it’s not always that literal. Well, maybe it is a little. Some names are for cats who are good at many different things, but master of nothing in particular.”

“What? I could be a master at something!”

“It’s not a bad thing at all!” Talltail purred. “In fact, those are some of the most reliable cats. ‘Face’ is just a variation on referencing your appearance. I think it’s often given to cats who are thought to be particularly attractive in some way or another. I can’t remember what the idea was exactly. Like their face draws attention or...lights up the area? Metaphorically of course. It’s a little sappy.”

“Ohhh...” Jake was silent for a moment in thought. “You think I’m attractive?”

“What?”

“Wow, no cats ever called me that before!”

Talltail’s pelt felt hot as he sat up. “Y-you’re thinking too hard about it, I’m trying to be objective. I only thought of it because--I just mean you’re distracting. But...In a good way.”

“I’m distracting?”

“Well, I don’t mean--I meant like, eye-catching, because of--have you looked at yourself when the sunlight hits your fur? It--No, oh for StarClan’s sake, hold on, I’m explaining this poorly. Stop looking at me like that, the point is that’s the closest guess I can manage. It might not be accurate.”

Jake grinned up at him, “I like that name.”

“...Good. It’s past sunhigh now, so we should start looking,” Talltail mewed quickly, already to his feet, hoping his fur wasn’t noticeably bristling in embarrassment. 

Jake trotted after him, his tail held up high. “So, what would your name be if you earned a normal one, do you think?” he asked, a new note of amusement in his voice that Talltail was trying very hard to ignore.

“I don’t know, Jake.”

“‘Cause I think you could be a ‘face’ cat too, you’re the most distracting thing I've ever seen in my life”

“We are burning daylight here, Jake.”

“Ok, but think about it.”

Talltail would probably think about it for the rest of the day, thanks.

chapter list / previous / next

[keeroo92]

Breaking Point

My SFW contribution to @jackpot-dantezine, where Dante falls apart on the way to confront Urizen.

Word count: 1,909

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The air hung stagnant around him, oppressive and unnaturally warm. Shades of red and brown, grey and a sickening green encroached up the walls. When he called the smell, “hot garbage”, he’d been far too kind. Veins pulsated a stern drumbeat as Dante stepped forward after his two female companions. 

“Bet you both I bag the first Queen!” Lady taunted. Trish responded with a cool smirk and a quickened pace, but Dante’s mind was elsewhere.

What if it was Vergil?

Dante had his doubts, despite what the weirdo client told him. What were the chances, right? Vergil’d been gone for years, stuck in hell after their last meeting. Getting back here, let alone in good enough shape to pull off this bullshit, was a longshot.

Still. His brother had a way of popping up and causing trouble. 

The first boom of battle ricocheted off the nauseating walls, reminding him where he was and what he still needed to do. He’d better catch up. Thinking about shit wasn’t his style; killing demons was. 

Time for a good ol’ fashioned beat down, that’d get him out of this funk. 

Dante cracked his neck, hands twitching to grasp the twin handles of his beloved Ebony and Ivory. The staccato thud of his boots mirrored the thudding of his heart, hastening as he got closer to a fight.

He turned a bloody corner just in time to see Trish deal a death blow to a Hell Judecca, its skeletal arms dissolving into ash as she spun to find her next prey. Her signature yellow sparks glowed brightly from her hands, her body dashing across the blood-stained ground to strike a pair of Antenora. Show off.

“That puts me ahead by two, Lady! What, are you taking a nap?” the blonde called.

“Not even close!” Lady replied, firing her bazooka straight down the throat of a Caina.

Dante grinned and picked a target, spinning on his heel as a scythe hunted his flesh. Too easy. He twirled Ebony and shot the ugly bastard in the face behind his back. Why did all demons look like the ass end of a bad burrito, anyway?

Eh, who cared?

His heart lurched. Vergil would. When they were children, Dante’s brother never ran out of questions about the nature of demons. He’d asked everything imaginable, from how they fought to how they multiplied. 

Dante tried not to think about that part.

And for every question Vergil asked, their dad had an answer. He’d stop whatever he was doing to explain, smiling proudly all the while. Like Dante wasn’t even there. It used to annoy him, but now the memory only brought bittersweet longing. What he wouldn’t give for them all to be together again…

“Dante, duck!”

Leather snapped as Dante instantly dropped to a crouch. A stream of fire licked his flesh, a Hell Bat above screeching its displeasure at the near miss. Annoying bastard. He never should've let it get so close. 

I gotta keep it together, he thought cynically, or the girls will get on my case.

Plus, banter always helped keep his mind from visiting its darker corners.

The man in red summoned a smirk and fired a few rounds, his bullets poking holes in the bulging orange belly overhead. A sound not unlike a whoopee cushion signaled his success. Nice.

“Sayonara, sucker!” he crowed, watching as the bat’s leaking body propelled it into a wall to explode. “Let’s call that one twenty points.”

“No way, lazybones! You don’t get extra for making fart noises,” Lady called with a scowl. 

Dante raised his hands in a placating gesture as soot settled to mark the deaths of their foes. He hoped Ver- Urizen sent a few more their way; he needed to warm up before kicking the king’s ass. Maybe he should stretch, just to keep his blood flowing.

Dante sighed and shook his head. He’d never hear the end of it.

It turned out he didn’t need to worry; as the trio progressed, they encountered wave after wave of demons, all vying for fresh blood. Trish and Lady didn’t falter, picking off one after another as Dante did his best to stay on task, but his mind kept drifting back to his brother.

For decades, Dante held only anger at his twin for not being there, for forcing their mother to search for him. To a child, the immature logic made sense. If Vergil hadn’t run off, things would’ve turned out differently. Simple cause and effect.

But time dulled the blade of his rage, and a broader understanding of life took hold. Any number of choices may have changed the outcome of the attack, but obsessing over it wouldn’t change what happened.

None of them had the power to predict the consequences, or to change them. All he could do was keep fighting, and hope that by doing so he spared other families from sharing the fate of his own. 

If Dante was being honest, the constant battles tired him. His body didn’t move like it used to, and the first aches of middle age warned him it was time to slow down. He couldn’t chase demons forever, and part of him didn’t want to. It was a lot of work.

It might be time to leave it to someone younger.

Then again, what the fuck else was he going to do all day? The only thing worse than being tired was being bored.

And the thought of retiring while Vergil was still out there somewhere, doing who knew what… it didn’t feel right, as if the balance would shift to the demons and they’d go unchecked. As a descendant of Sparda that gave a shit about humanity, Dante felt a certain responsibility to bear the weight of defending them. It was what his dad would’ve wanted.

What his mother would’ve wanted.

Besides; if he didn’t, then who would? Nero sure as hell wasn’t ready, not yet. 

But above all else, if it came to a fight to the death, his brother deserved to go at the hands of his family. Someone who understood what he’d gone through and all that he’d lost. It was Dante’s responsibility, and he damn well wasn’t hiding from it. Not this time. 

The thought left a hollow ache in his chest, a bitter sorrow he desperately wished he could ignore. If there was any alternative, any chance of helping his brother instead of ending his life, Dante knew he’d take it. That he had to even consider killing Vergil showed how twisted life could be. It made him want to scream. 

“Aw, shit,” Trish said, breaking his rambling thoughts. A quartet of Nobody’s waited in the next clearing, scurrying back and forth like excited cats. Perfect timing - Dante hated these guys.

And he really needed to kill something.

He flew at the demons with a cry of fury, drawing all four to him as he pulled Rebellion out. The girls followed in his wake, but he saw nothing save the nearest mask as his blade struck home. It left a deep crack in the clay, but the prick backed off before he had the time to kill it.

He really hated these guys. 

“Lady, finish him!” he cried. The other three were already swarming him. Damnit.

He dodged a stray arm and slashed at another as a blast reached his ears. The grotesque floor shook from the force and Dante roared, unleashing a vicious series of slices at the stumbling Nobody closest to him. It whimpered and tried to back off, but he refused to let it go that easily. Rebellion’s heavy blade sank deep into the creature’s core, splattering hot blood on its fellows and its killer alike. Two down. 

Two to go. 

There were days he didn’t see the point of it anymore; no matter how many would-be demon kings he took down, there’d always be another, and the peons were even worse. Useless, feral things, their only desire to destroy and kill.

It only added fuel to the fire of his rage. He needed to get closer.

Dante sheathed Rebellion and pulled at the thread of dark energy connecting him to Balrog, summoning the metallic pseudo-armor even as he threw a powerful punch. A rapid kick followed, his feet cracking against the reddish mask of the third nobody. He’d kill it before it fought back.

But a fiery blast on his left hurled him to the side, the last demon cackling as he fell. Years of getting pummeled proved their worth as Dante rolled with the blow, using the momentum to get on his feet a beat later. He grimaced and flipped a finger at the laughing jerk. 

“Is that all you got?” he shouted. Who knew if it understood.

It screeched and slammed a limb at him, slashing at his chest. He stepped aside and brought his arms together, crushing the appendage and tugging the beast closer for a solid headbutt. He punched and kicked, again and again. Demon blood splattered his face, each drop like a balm to his wrath. The chaotic battle surrounding him faded away; it was just him and the demon and the sounds of his strikes pulverizing its desecrated body. 

“Dante?” Lady called, her voice barely piercing the fog of his anger. He ignored her and punched the Nobody in the face again. “Dante, it’s dead. You can stop hitting it now.”

How many people had this one killed? How many families did its hunger shatter? For all Dante knew, it might be the bastard that killed his mother. He punched it again.

“Dante, come on…” Trish said. 

Maybe this was the demon that left nothing but smears of blood on the playground outside. Or the one that tore through a local grocery store, or that small house where he found those god awful husks. Another punch. He didn’t notice his female companions coming to stand beside him.

“Dante, knock it off. We need to keep moving,” Lady said, her palm coming to rest on his shoulder as he pulled back for another punch. Trish mirrored her.

The edges of the creature’s face began dissolving, a fine grey powder all that remained. Dante’s panting breath sent the dust aflutter as he slowly lowered his arm. His jaw ached; had he been gritting his teeth the whole time? Fuck.

Better crack a joke, something to keep it light.

“So, that’s what, four points to me?” Dante said. Both women shot him fierce glares.

“What the fuck, Dante?” Lady began. 

He wiped away the blood still clinging to his face and sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Trish chimed in. “You good?”

The red-clad man released the tendril of energy connecting him to Balrog, the blood-stained metal vanishing a beat behind. He didn’t know what to say. His rage still flickered within him, an ever present ember waiting for the right moment to flare into an inferno. It might give him an edge; it might consume him. 

Talk about a double-edged sword.

It didn’t matter what was happening in his heart or what it did to him. There was a big ass demon tree growing in his city, ugly bastards swarming the place and who knew what else. It was his job to clean up the mess, no matter who made it. 

Dante snorted. He was, in essence, a janitor. 

He cracked his neck. It was time to clean. “I’m good.”