#because if his voice was truly broken he wouldn’t be able to meow or say hello either

[your-local-grinning-cat]

My cat went to a vocal coach and the coach told me he's fit to be a star 😭😭

But he broke his voice and now he returned back to meowing, but he learned how to say hello 🤔🤓

Isn’t this similar to an episode of SpongeBob…?

I couldn’t find a gif that matched any of the episodes I was thinking of RIP 🪦💀😿

But I found ⬆️ that one and that’s a purrty good substitute, I think! 😹😹😹

*cackles, smiling my signature Cheshire Cat grin*

[bibbidibobbidibucky]

in his arms | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky's been gone for weeks on a mission and it starts to take its toll on Y/N.

Word Count: 1785

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! Smut, angst, language, hair pulling kink, very brief mention of death, and talk of cuts and bruises. Flashbacks are in italics!

A/N: My depression has been getting to me lately and I'm trying to see if this is a coping mechanism. Reading comfort stories usually helps me so I figured I'd try writing one. Feedback is always welcome and I hope you guys enjoy! 💕 Editing? Who's she??

24 days.

That’s how long it’s been since Bucky and half the team left out to go on a mission.  When it came to Bucky leaving it was usually just for a week or two and you could hear from him every now and again, but not this time.  To say that you hated it would be an understatement and you hoped he would home any day now.

You walked around your apartment that you shared with Bucky and nursed a glass of wine.  Technically it was your third glass and if you were honest with yourself you were just trying to nurse the pain.  The past 24 days had been your own personal hell since you weren’t able to be in contact with Bucky.  Not knowing how things were going or if he was even alive.  You pushed that last thought from your mind.  That was the last thing you needed to think about right now.

Alpine meowed as you walked over to the window where she was sitting on her favorite chair.  The chair that she usually sat in while being curled up on Bucky’s lap.  You scratched her head and she meowed again.

“Yeah, I know Al.  I miss him too.”

You smiled sadly and took another sip of wine as you looked out the window over Brooklyn.  The view before you was one of the big reasons that you and Bucky ended up getting this apartment in the first place.  It was too beautiful to pass up according to him and with that thought a small smile appeared on your face as you thought back to the day you two moved in.

“Okay.  I think that’s the last of it babe,”  Bucky smiled as he kicked the door shut behind him

“Thank god. I’m so tired and never wanna see another box again,” you laughed as you fell face down onto the couch for a much needed break.  The two of you were officially moved into your new place.  A place to call home.

Bucky smiled down at you and lifted you feet as he sat down on the couch, placing your feet on his lap.  He rubbed your calves and looked out at the window as the sun started to set.  He was happy.  Truly happy and he thanked his lucky stars that he was able to feel this happiness because of you.  Falling in love with you was something he didn’t take for granted and he just knew that he was gonna spend the rest of his life with you.

His thoughts were interrupted though when a soft snore came from you.  Not even five minutes on the couch and you were already fast asleep.  He chuckled and gently moved from the couch so he didn’t wake you.  He would let you sleep for now.  He kissed your forehead tenderly before looking over at Alpine.

“Let’s get some of this stuff out of the way and then order take out.  Whatcha think? Pizza? Chinese? ”

She purred as she rubbed against his leg and Bucky picked her up in one swift motion.  She meowed and Bucky smiled.

“Pizza it is.”

It was hard to believe that was just two months ago.  You had been in this apartment longer than he had and you missed him more than anything.  You just wanted to be in his arms and to have him home.  You teared up a little and downed the rest of the glass before reaching for your phone.  You pressed Bucky’s number and of course it went straight to voicemail like it had done for the last few weeks.  You knew you wouldn’t get an answer.  You just wanted to hear the sound of his voice.

“You’ve reached Bucky.  Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”

The tone beeped and you took a few seconds before deciding to leave him a message.

You bite your lip before speaking, “Hi baby, it’s me.  Look I know you can’t talk right now. I-I I just wanted to let you know that I miss you, Buck.  I miss you so much baby and I hope you and the rest of the team are okay.”

You had to stop for a moment as a tear spilled over your cheek.  The last thing Bucky needed to hear was you crying on his voicemail.

“There’s more I wanna say but I’ll wait till you come back home which I really hope is soon.  Almost a month without you has been awful and I miss cuddly up to you at night.  I miss a lot of things.”  You paused again, “I love you, Bucky.  I can’t wait to see you. Bye sweetheart.”

You ended the call and brushed the tears away that were now streaming down your cheeks.  You decided a hot shower before bed was what you needed right now to calm down.  That and maybe some melatonin later.

About ten minutes later as you were standing under the hot water you heard a noise that sounded like something being knocked over.  You brushed it off and just assumed Alpine was playing around and something fell.  You’d deal with it in a few minutes.

“Y/N?

You froze at the sound of your name and you thought you were hearing things.  You had to be right?  You slowly turned and saw the shape of Bucky through the fogged glass of the shower.  A small gasps left your lips and you smiled as he opened the door to the shower.

“I got your voicemail sweetheart,”  he smiled softly as he stepped closer to you.

You didn’t even give him time to say another word before you were pressing your lips to his in an endearing kiss.  The two of you stumbled back into the shower, not caring at all that Bucky was fully clothed.  The kiss consumed the both of you.  After being apart from weeks on end this was all you could do right now.  Words didn’t need to be spoken because everything that needed to be said was said in that kiss.

Small moans escaped your lips as Bucky picked you up and pressed you against the shower wall.  You couldn’t believe he was here.  He was finally home and you were finally in his arms once more.  You felt like your heart was gonna explode from how happy you were.

The kiss was broken as Bucky leaned back enough for you to help him discard his wet shirt and then his lips were back on yours.  You tugged on his hair as you held him close and a moan escaped his lips.  That sent a shiver all the way down to your core, causing you to grind against him.  The rest of his clothes were soon discarded and he was rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds.  Moans filled the area as the two of you basked in the pure pleasure of just being connected again.  Of being just able to hold on another.

“Oh fuck. James.”

You moaned out his name blissfully as he pushed into you and you already felt like you were on cloud nine.  He squeezed your ass as your hips started to rock into each other and moaned deeply.  He was pounding into you with long deep strides that had you tugging at his hair over and over again.

“Fuck, I missed you so much Y/N.  Missed you every single second sweetheart.”

You moaned in response and pressed your lips back to his.  The kiss was needy, sloppy, and full of emotions.  The two of you were desperate to have the other as close as possible and you had a feeling this is what it was gonna be like for the next fews days.  You would welcome it gladly.

“You feel so good baby. Missed having you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips and it caused him to smirk.  He loved knowing the effect he could have on you.

“Missed this tight little pussy baby.  The way your body reacts to me when I fuck you like this.  Fu-fuck Y/N,” he moaned out.

He buries his face in your neck and as he feels himself getting closer to cumming, “Missed everything about you sweetheart.”

You whimpered as he spoke and could tell it wouldn’t be long before you came as well.  His hips were getting sloppy with each thrust and he moved his hand between you to rub your clit.  You moaned wantonly and your toes curled.

A few more deep thrusts from Bucky was all it took to send you over the edge.  Your walls fluttered around him as you moaned his name over and over.  The feeling of you squeezing his cock like a vice edged him on.  You felt his release inside of you and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to keep him close while you rode out your releases.  Soft kisses were placed along your neck, up your jaw, along your cheek, until he finally met your lips.

You hummed in satisfaction as you kissed him and couldn’t help the smile that formed before pulling, ghosting your lips over, “Welcome home, Bucky.”

You pulled back more to have a good look at his face.  You lifted your hand to gently caress his cheek and your heart melted when he leaned into your touch.  There was a cut above his eyebrow and what looked like a healing bruise on his cheek.  You knew missions were never easy for him and that they took a certain toll, but you’d be right there with him to help in any way he needed.

He placed a gentle kiss to your palm and smiled, “Think we can dry off and go get into bed.  I’m exhausted.”

You nodded and placed a kiss to his nose, “Of course baby.”

As the two of you got ready for bed you noticed more bruises and cuts along his skin but decided not to say anything, they would be gone in a day or two anyways.  You slipped on one of Bucky's old shirts and pulled back the covers of the bed.

“Come here,” you smiled and patted his side of the bed.

He smiled and flipped off the light before crawling up next to you, laying his head against your chest.  You wrapped your arms around him and ran your fingers along his back soothingly.  This was always one of his favorite things to do after getting home from missions.  Just being in your arms and listening to your heartbeat.

You smiled as the two of you laid there.  He was home.  He was in your arms and you were in his.

fin.

[regardingseas]

Title: Echoed Vexations (Part two)

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Rating: Teen and up audiences (violence warning)

AO3: here! (Full story at once)

•••

(PART ONE)

Beginning, summary, and warnings can be found there. Story continued under the cut.

•••

He regretted it instantly.

Catching sight of the white abyss behind Their eyes, the sanctions of his mind found themselves entangled in the monster's clutches. They weren't physically there, but he could feel them all the same-- tendrils like snakes burrowing into his brain, parasitic vermin that rooted themselves into his very core with a vice-like hold. He'd thrash, or fight, but that only ever ended in the pain spiking from a ten to an eleven, proven by the past, and again by Cub's screams of anguish as Scar barely bit back his sobs.

His thoughts echoed in his skull, looping over themselves as the Vex listened in like safe-crackers. He wanted not to think, not to have a single notion cross his mind, but an infinite number of processes scrambled through at once no matter what he tried.

Not being able to defend himself against such beings was humiliating in its own right. Rationally, he knew They were far more powerful than the average human, and a group of Them was nothing to sneeze at when they got serious. The Vex were a corrupt and cruel species who enjoyed little more than acquisitive riches and making others suffer, but as much as he was aware of that, it didn't make being beaten down by something an eighth of his size any less demeaning.

With that train of thought, Scar's auditory input from the outer world was replaced by ringing-- blood seeping out from his ears and from his nose not long after. The taste of copper was bitter on his tongue, mixing with the salt of tears and bile that had risen in his throat.

We're nothing but small, cruel, and materialistic? The concordats forget themselves so...

They will learn from this, mistakes make for better humans.

I think they've forgotten who they belong to.

He dared to think he didn't belong to Them, that he was his own, not even of his own accord, and still his air was cut off. His arms gave out next and he crumbled to the side, gagging on red and trembling as waves of pain crashed over his body. Scar gasped, but his lungs refused to fill, leaving him grasping at his throat and pleading internally.

Do you remember now?

One of Them, or maybe all of Them, had asked.

Do you remember our deal? Do you remember the emblem we burned into your skin when you agreed to join us?

I remember, he begged in his mind, I remember. I'm sorry. Please don't kill me, I'm so sorry. I belong to the Vex. I'm sorry.

Horrid laugher overtook his senses, and a feeble rush of air filled his chest before his consciousness began to fade.

You will never escape us.

They finalized, and his world went dark like the drawing of velvet curtains.

------

Back in the present, flashes of that day and many others raced through his head as if to mock his phobia of thinking itself. It was almost akin to watching his past unfold in third person, like he'd been detached from his body during the events. Bleary yet potent reenactments of metal patterns searing his flesh, of his bones shattering, of gashes and bruises and the life fading from his eyes. All the times he was made to expand their trade, slaving endlessly until his hands were stiff and immobile from overuse, but it still not being enough for Them. Annexing the rest of the industry, becoming number one, having two humans as their play things. Nothing was, or ever would be, enough for the Vex.

Scar's nails raked up his arms as he tried to feel anything other than Their coils invading his brain, doing all he could to reason with himself that they weren't real, for the logical part of him knew they weren't. His hands grasped for the brand ingrained into the flesh of his shoulder blade, fingers feverishly grazing over the risen tissue to find the divot and remind himself that the seal had been severed. His time with them was over. The symbol was broken.

"I'm- I'm safe..." he recited, "I'm away, I'm free, I'm okay…"

The words were more of a finding of his voice than a real reassurance, and Scar fumbled to pull his communicator from his pocket, aware of how much he needed to contact a proper support system. Tears blurred the screen, making the already jumbled letters more difficult to make out, but he managed to gather the necessary information.

He could call for Cub, but the man was away, and even if the notification were to alert him, such an event was likely to jump-start evocations of his own traumas.

Xisuma was available, but he didn't want to pester the already busy admin with his troubles anymore than he'd had to before. The kind man had already spent countless time and energy ensuring that they were all safe inside of the world barrier; a field in which no Vex could enter on Their own, nor abuse Their power if They were to be deliberately summoned by a rogue party. Admin magic, he was thankful for it to the nth degree, but he currently needed a real person in his presence more than anything.

Scar scanned the remaining names on his monitor. There was only one other Hermit who knew about what he'd been through, and he was practically imploring him to be around.

Grain.

There he was!

Scar would've sobbed in relief weren't he already weeping, left struggling to type out a private message to his friend.

<GoodTimeWithScar> Grian are you avaiavble?

<GoodTimeWithScar> i need your help, i'm at Mumbo's base

<GoodTimeWithScar> my base? i don't know, the monument

<Grian> sure am! whatcha need help with?

Scar's thumbs danced awkwardly above the keyboard, grappling with himself over what to say. It was always a struggle to express his troubles in the midst of panic, especially when doing so was a part of the problem. He knew he didn't have to go into depth with the other Hermit, however. That was another benefit of them being aware of one another's history; they didn't need to spill their guts in order to receive a helping hand.

<GoodTimeWithScar> i just need someone here

<GoodTimeWithScar> i can't seem to calm muself down right now

<GoodTimeWithScar> or type out messages poperbly it seems?

<GoodTimeWithScar> haha dang

<Grian> i'll be right there

<Grain> i'm at zedaph's cave, so the distance is a little further than usual, but you know i'm a fast flier

<Grain> so just hang tight, scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> i'm not going anjwhere

Scar dropped his hands to his side with a shaky breath, flinching when a sudden softness brushed against his hand. He glanced down only to see a concerned looking Jellie, the cat purring softly and nuzzling his arm. He cracked a feeble smile and reached out to pet behind her ear, her very presence providing a degree of comfort.

Much to his surprise, it truly wasn't long before the telltale beating of wings thumped through the air, Grain landing expertly in the grass and folding his feathered pinions snug behind his back.

"Scar?" he asked, cautiously approaching the other man.

Scar looked up to him, managing to raise a hand and wave as a greeting. Still wrought with trepidation, his shaking arms were scored with scratches he'd unconsciously inflicted while attempting to ground himself. Tear tracks lined his cheeks and his hair had become an unkempt mop, but he'd pulled through the worst of it.

"Oh, dude…" Grian said sympathetically, stepping over the rest of the way and crouching by his side. "It's alright, I'm here."

He nodded slow, "Thanks, Gri…"

The avian returned the nod and extended his hand, allowing Scar to take hold of it as a reminder of his security. "It's no problem. I see Jellie showed up to help, too."

"Yeah," Scar chuckled humourlessly, "She can always tell when I'm upset…"

"She's good like that," Grain confirmed, earning a well timed meow from the feline beside them.

They both let out a small laugh, Scar's being far weaker but present nonetheless.

"How about we get you away from all this noise and take care of those scratches?" Grain asked, and the other Hermit nodded again.

He helped Scar to his feet, leading him away from the distant thundering of the base's heart. They departed from the heights of the ruins, Grain ushering Scar to settle down against a tree once they were out of earshot of all the clamour.

"Let me see your arms, 'kay? I'll fix them right up."

Scar held out his scored arms after a moment of hesitation, finding them still stinging with the red drag of nails.

Grain produced a potion and gauze from his inventory, pouring the thick blue liquid onto the cotton before dabbing it across the irritated skin. A cool numbness spread over the area, and Scar relaxed at the alleviation of his symptoms. People often overlooked Mundane potions due to them having no official use, but anyone suffering from a mild ailment could tell stories of just how practical its effects could be. From soothing scrapes or minor burns, all the way to settling stomach aches or migraines, they could work little wonders. A Mundane potion for mundane problems.

"Better?" Grain asked.

"Much… thank you. Sorry for making you fly all the way over here."

"No, no, don't apologize, it's no big deal," he assured, motioning to brush off his concerns. "I needed to get out of that cave anyway. Not to bash on Zed's decorating skills, because the gadgetry is amazing, but the rest is all nonsense and greys and belch-- it was making my head spin."

Scar nodded, but couldn't help the guilt that crept into his chest, eyes darting to the side as if in anticipation for the hostility he sensibly knew would never come.

Grain smiled tenderly and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I mean it, it's no trouble. Besides, you'd do the same for me. Geez, man, you have!"

"I guess you're right," Scar agreed, turning once more to face the winged man. It wouldn't be the first time either Hermit had coaxed the other down from a panic, for not only had Grain been there for him in the past, but vice versa as well.

Most recently, he could recall, someone had led a bundle of animals into the blond's mansion as a prank. Such a feat was usually harmless fun, as was the case with the challenges they'd created wherein a herd of chickens were set loose in the same manner. The problem, however, arose when the trickster wanted to break the chain of stunts involving birds, and instead released a colony of rabbits into the manor's grounds. It was intended to be innocuous, but to say it hadn't ended well would be making a molehill out of a mountain.

Mumbo and the baffled prankster themselves had immediately volunteered to clear the animals from the house, whereas Scar stayed with Grain at the man's starter base until the mansion was deemed clear, and he was able to find resolve. It had been a long day for them all, but Grain especially. He'd mostly adapted to seeing hares in the wilderness, but finding himself in an enclosed space with dozens of the creatures sent him spiraling. Scar had been told tales of a man named Sam; a heinous individual with ears of a rabbit, who despite the innocent appearance, caused Grain immense suffering.

He's from a chapter in my story that I'd much rather leave behind, Grian once said, I have a far better future to write now, anyway.

That last line always stuck with Scar, no matter how much time passed after he heard it. There were brighter eras ahead, they just had to move forward and stick around to see them. In the end, he of all people could respect wishing to leave one's past as just that. The past. Even so, he'd probably still deck that Sam character given the chance.

"Of course I am," said Grain abruptly, and Scar blinked back to the present after an internal game of catch-up to remember what they'd been speaking of to begin with.

Nodding and smiling faintly, he asked, "So, what are you doing for the rest of your free time?"

The Brit grinned in turn and ruffled his wings, "Well, my schedule is actually rather jam-packed. I'm spending the rest of the day with a friend who's in quite the pickle."

Scar raised his eyebrows, pointing towards himself, "Is it me? Am I in the pickle?"

Grian laughed, "Yes, my briney bro, you are. And I'm determined to stay by your side until you're feeling better again."

Thankful, Scar smiled as well, knowing it would do no good to feel remorseful for taking up his companion's time, or to try and convince him he would be fine on his own.

"Thank you, Grain," he said truthfully.

"Anytime," he replied, "Now let's find something nice calm to do."

"Now those are words I never thought I'd hear you say."

The two chuckled and made their way off, ready to waste the rest of the afternoon in a mellow rhythm to starve off any further panic. Scar knew he'd likely feel off for a while, not fully himself again until at least the following day. The lingering tension of his episodes always latched to his nerves and left him on edge, but he knew the company of an understanding friend would lessen the blow. They'd spend the coming hours in a tense yet manageable tandem, and to some degree, Scar could accept that.

He was still learning to trust the fact he was safe, no matter how much he already wished to embrace his freedom with open arms. Eventually, one day, maybe, he could believe it entirely, or at least to more ample extent. Until then, it was gradual steps forward on the road to recovery.

Grain skipped beside him, cracking light-hearted jokes laced with reassuring phrases, all made to help lift Scar's aching mood.

Wherever it was that road led, however, at least he wasn't walking it alone.

[END]

Comments are always greatly appreciated! More than you could imagine, in fact! 💚

[s3tracha]

Paranormal... activities ?

Am I capable of naming my stories ? Probably, if I tried. Do I try ? Absolutely not.

Hewwo evewyone, I usually never post my writing on sideblogs and such but look, this sideblog is for the boys, there’s a challenge specifically for the boys, I’m not about to post it on my writing sideblog. Nobody follows it anyway and I’m not a fool

I know I’m not posting this in time. :3c

Summary: in short, the adventures of Minho and Jisung in the abandoned house.

Content warning: I don’t think there’s any warning to be given ? It’s supposed to be spooky month but it’s more humourous than anything ! I guess there’s some cussing though. And maybe bad English, redundant phrasing, #notanativespeakergang.

Reblogs are very much appreciated - and if you wanna add commentary in the tags or replies you’re more than welcome to do so !

[4:12 pm]

“ You know what ? This is going to be so much fun. No, really, we’re about to have a great time - why would we not enjoy it ? We’re paranormal investigators ! Surely, it can’t go wrong. “

[11:43 pm]

“ This is the worst thing we’ve ever done. “

“ Mh. “

“ This is so, so not fun at all. “

“ Mh. “

“ I hate everything about this. I wanna go home. Can we go home ? “

“ Mh. “

“ … Are you listening to me ? “

“ Mh. “

With that last response, Jisung frowned and looked back at his friend. … Silence. Minho was completely silent. Mouth agape, eyes kind of glaring at everything and nothing at the same time, his hand holding onto Jisung’s arm pretty tightly now that he was paying attention to it… What, really ? He was going to have to be the driving force here ? Not that he wasn’t already aware of that, but… ah, geez. The younger teen took a few seconds before exhaling a soft sigh and looking around them again.

Minho’s reaction was understandable. The house wasn’t only abandoned, it looked awful ! Like the walls were rotting ( and he was pretty sure that wasn’t something walls usually did but he couldn’t attest to this if questioned about it ), the floor was much dirtier than any damn house floor should be… Weird, unsettling paintings everywhere, clothes here and there, so many broken glass bottles he couldn’t count them - some of them hadn’t been finished and the liquid which he could only assume to be alcohol had given the place quiet a stench. Terror was a pretty appropriate reaction to a place like this. He’d seen places that were less scary to sleep at.

Maybe sending them both together hadn’t been the greatest idea but he hadn’t considered the cons hard enough before agreeing. And even if he hadn’t agreed, he couldn’t have changed it.

As a full team, they were nine, rotating in two pairs each time and trying to not send the same two people all the time. The two who’d investigate were chosen randomly and, sometimes the same person could go twice in a row… As a result, this was Minho’s third time this month. Needless to say, going with Chan and then Hyunjin hadn’t been very beneficial to his already very pronounced fear of… pretty much everything. When it wasn’t the ghosts and demons and whatnot scaring him, it was the other boy present with him. With Hyunjin it wasn’t necessarily intentional, Hyunjin was just… loud at the wrong time.

Maybe agreeing to being paranormal investigators along with their entire friend group had been a mistake in itself… Couldn’t really back out anymore.

Now Jisung wasn’t exactly the most reassuring presence either but for an entirely different reason: though not as scared as himself, he was just… more pressure. He wasn’t scared as much as he was stressed and tried to play it off like he wasn’t, obviously and maybe that made it worse. Either way, Minho was both terrified and spacing out. 

Great. Truly, the most fun they’d have in their entire life.

“ Uh, so, about the occurrences… Seungmin said we should be able to hear footsteps and some whispers here, the whispers would come from a crying man, and maybe he can move stuff too so… “ Jisung spoke again, his voice shaking slightly as he tried to bring himself back on the right track. The track of not being scared for the sake of his poor friend who clearly still wasn’t listening to him.

“ Poor guy passed of heartbreak after his wife took the kids and left… Maybe he’s not that mean. Maybe– maybe he won’t try to scare us, y’know… “

He trailed off, eventually just keeping to himself. Kind of forgot where he was going with this anyway. He was more focused on observing their surroundings while Minho was seemingly finally coming back to his senses - and with a small gasp and his other hand now holding Jisung’s arm as well, he shook his head to make sure he was, at last, processing things right.

“ Great, so, what’s up with the footsteps then ? “ He immediately asked, trying to take a look around as well. The least he could do.

“ Oh, dude had a pet dog that let itself die after his owner passed… “

“ A dog ? “

“ And a cat. But dog footsteps are louder than cat footsteps. “

“ Of course they are. “

Minho rolled his eyes, shaking his head again with a sigh. That earned Jisung another frown. “ What ? It’s true ! “

“ Mh. “ 

Ugh, great. The boy stared for a few seconds before sighing in his turn. Was there really no way to put the other in a good mood ? Well, the setting probably didn’t help either, but now that was just getting upset over a problem that didn’t even exist. So he was afraid of ghosts but cat ghosts are fine ? Ridiculous ! For one, he was scared of both equally.

Still, as much as he hated doing this - and especially doing this with Minho -, he at least wanted the atmosphere to not be tense for no reason at all. He had to fix it. He had to make something up on the spot and then the others would make fun of him for it when they’d hear about it. Yup.

“ W- well, I’d forgotten about that but… Um, Seungmin also said that… that you can– I mean, sometimes, rarely, you can hear… uh… the cat ! You can hear it ! “

An admirable attempt. Maybe the other’s face lit up a little at the words, too.

“ He said that ? “

“ Yeah ! If we’re lucky… I mean, maybe lucky isn’t the right word but we can hear it meow ! And… purr… and scratch the walls…? “

“ You’re kidding, of course lucky’s the right word ! Okay, where do we start ? “

The sudden enthusiasm from his previously mortified friend sure managed to throw Jisung off. Once again staring for a few seconds, time for him to think of something to answer with and to deal with how easily his lies had been eaten up, god he’d hate himself if Minho found out he lied, he eventually seemed to gain all of his confidence back and flashed a bright smile. One of those smiles that make it seem like he’s not only confident, but cocky about it as well. 

“ I suggest we… go separate ways to visit ! So we can get it all done fa– “

“ Pass, next. “

“ Wha– Why ? I thought we were good ! “ Jisung exclaimed, visibly taken aback once again. Was this ever going to make any sense ?

“ So long as I haven’t heard the cat I’m not gonna be any good and I certainly don’t wanna be left alone here,” Minho retorted, his grip on Jisung’s arm not loosening. “ Chan tried. I left the building. “

“ But Chan’s an ass when we’re investigating, and I’m not ! “ He knew he wasn’t changing anybody’s mind. “ Ah, fine. But we’re gonna have to stay awake muuuch longer. “

Minho shrugged. “ Fine. I got snacks in my bag. “

“ Well, cool. “

“ Yeah. “

Silence. Jisung was pulling a face. Minho was looking around, though this time probably more avoiding Jisung’s face than actually looking around. Jisung considered the possibility of them doing standup comedy rather than paranormal investigation in the future, with how comical every situation they got into ended up being, but that probably wouldn’t really pay bills… not that paranormal investigation did though. Oh, and they had all of this on tape, right. He’d kind of forgotten they had cameras.

The silence kept on going before Jisung of course it’d be him gave in and gestured vaguely. “ I guess we’re gonna start with… downstairs. That’s not where the guy died apparently so we shouldn’t see anything but we can still hear the footsteps, and the sobs. But we’d hear them better upstairs so for now– “

Cut off by a door slamming, followed by the both of them screaming and Jisung almost dropping the camera he was holding. And silence again. Two weak hearts needed some time to calm down and assess the new state of things, which was different in one way: a door, they did not know which nor where it was, was now closed.

This time, rather than talk, Jisung went and started walking again, Minho being forcibly dragged along despite how reluctant he might’ve been had he been able to be a little more responsive. The lights strapped to his and the other boy’s foreheads were probably the things he was most grateful for at the moment…

Their quiet investigation kept on going until after they’d gone around the kitchen. It had been quick, given the putrid smell they really wanted to get away from as quickly as possible.

Then Jisung laughed.

“ That sure was something, huh ? “ Not an ounce of confidence in his voice. Definitely faking it still though.

“ Sure was, “ Minho muttered, nose slightly scrunched up from the smell still, “ and also I don’t think I wanna see what the restroom’s like so let’s skip it. “

“ Yeah, okay. “

He’d already avoided some rooms with Jeongin once. They just pretended they lost the footage when asked about it. Surely that didn’t only happen when he was part of the investigation, right ? Eh, whatever. He’d just cut off the footage they already had so it’d seem like they opened the door.

“ Okay, anyway… Hello, ghosts ! I am incredibly NOT scared of you, and you can’t do anything to me ! “ Oh, here’s the bravado. “ Let’s just talk and have some tea, and maybe some snacks and– “

“ No, wait. Shh. “

He raised an eyebrow but complied. Something he had feared was Minho being the one to notice something, because who knew how Minho would react to anything ? If he noticed something first he could at least anticipate his reaction. Not his own, but… that was less of a problem, as surprising as it might’ve been given he wasn’t too relaxed either.

And then it came… the footsteps. Jisung felt not only himself going stiff, but Minho as well - his grip tightening on the poor boy’s arm who ended up wincing in pain instead of focusing on the noise.

“ Does… Does the dog attack ? “ Minho whispered, voice shaking slightly.

“ I… No, “ Jisung answered just as quietly, “ please don’t cut off my blood circulation. “

“ Does the dog go upstairs ? “

“ I don’t… think s– Hey, stop ! “

Here they were, rushing to the staircase, and it was Jisung’s turn to be forcefully dragged there since Minho wouldn’t release his arm.

“ Come on, that’s crazy ! There’s a dead man’s ghost on this floor, it isn’t any better ! “ Jisung tried to argue, mentally attempting to rationalise anything they would do in the next eight hours aside from sleeping very uncomfortably and complaining about it.

“ I don’t care, if you don’t know a dog you never know how it can react, everybody knows that ! “

Jisung groaned. Why did things have to be this way ? He’d almost dropped the camera again, if this kept on going like this he’d definitely lose it.

“ … Besides, I sure hope you can’t find any… alive people’s ghosts, “ Minho continued. “ What’s a “dead man’s ghost” ? Redundant. That’s what it is. “

“ Oh, whatever - you got what I meant ! “

Silence should be the third main character given how often it appears but here it is, the silence. More looking around, and kind of… trying to walk around as well, though Jisung wasn’t very into it despite the brave act he’d put on just a few minutes ago.

“ So now that we’re here… Um, we’re supposed to sleep in the kids’ room, “ he explained, trying to figure out which one of these equally dull doors led to the room in question. “ The guy’s ghost never leaves his room but he makes stuff move, so… if you hear chairs moving in the middle of the night… “

“ Yeah, I get the gist of it. “ Pause. “ And I don’t like it one bit. “

“ Guess it’s good you’re with me then, “ a response which prompted a nervous snort. “ Hey, what does that mean ? “

“ Nothing. Let’s get going. “

The next minutes were spent visiting the rooms, trying not to touch things and remaining careful of any noises they might hear. Nothing just yet, aside from the footsteps from before, and even the man’s bedroom seemed pretty okay ! Well, aside from the smell, once again. The kids’ bedroom didn’t smell as bad from what Jisung could remember of the maybe two minutes they’d spent ‘visiting’ it.

“ Hey, look at this, “ Minho called out from the end of Jisung’s arm. “ There’s a journal on the desk. It was left open. “

“ Oh, sick, let’s read it. “

And with this, the two boys jumped onto the journal. Perhaps that wasn’t the best call though ; a few seconds into it and the chair was suddenly thrown into them, reminding them they were kind of invading the privacy of an actual ghost… and yes, they ran out of the room.

Next step was locking themselves up in the kids’ room, quickly setting up their sleeping bags all while remaining glued to each other, each whispering a different list of swears and prayers before Minho spoke up with a desperate “ Man, what the hell ! “, and Jisung responding as desperately with “ I don’t know, dude ! “.

They let themselves plop down on Minho’s sleeping bag. Panting, Jisung dropping the hand-held camera to hold the other just as tight as he was being held, overall looking very comfortable with the situation they were in.

“ It moved. Right. “ Minho asked, though it was more of a statement.

“ Rammed into my legs, yes. “

“ I should’ve been the one to take it, I pointed to the journal... Sorry about that. “

“ Nah... It’s good. I shouldn’t have tried to read it. I could’ve left it alone or something... Not your fault we’re both kinda stupid. “

Jisung trailed off again, slowly resting his head on the older boy’s shoulder and giving up. That was what it was, giving up that act he was putting on so Minho would relax more, now he just wanted to…

“ Didn’t you say something about going home ? “

“ I did… I mean it more now though. “

“ Thought so... Me too. “

[2:37 am]

“ Okay, so… the cameras are set up, with the audio recording. “

“ Correct. “

“ The door and window are closed even though there’s this uh, kind of inconvenient hole in the wall here. “

“ Uhuh. “

“ And you got snacks. “

“ I do. “

“ Then does that mean we get to sleep now ? Shouldn’t get much worse than that… “ Jisung’s sentenced ended with a yawn.

“ Guess you’re right. “ Minho’s voice was as disheartened as it could possibly get. It hadn’t been much but the both of them were drained.

Jisung sighed and took the frontal camera off along with the light, setting it next to the sleeping bag then looking back at his friend, waiting for him to do the same. And he didn’t.

“ … You won’t take it off ? “

“ You never know what can happen - and in case something does happen I need to be prepared. “ Minho turned the frontal light back on as to prove his point, blinding Jisung in the process. “ Dude, you didn’t have to. “

“ Did too ! I let you get hurt once, what am I gonna look like if you get hurt a second time and I do nothing about it ? I’d rather die. “

“ No, I meant... You didn’t have to flash it in my eyes like that. “

“ Oh. “

Silence is back.

“ Sorry. “

“ I’m not mad, don’t worry. “

Minho hummed softly, turning the light back off before slipping into his bag, and all Jisung could do was… watch. 

“ Thanks for what you said though. I’d rather you don’t die if possible, three ghosts is enough for one house... “

That earned Minho a small chuckle as he looked back at his friend. He had that sleepy smile on his face but, as comforting as that smile was, he didn’t find it in himself to smile back truthfully. Something about this place just made him sad, he didn’t really like it and the prospect of sleeping in a bag by himself wasn’t really something he fancied either.

The other boy just waited. They were staring at each other for a few minutes with very different thoughts crossing their minds. For Jisung, it was a weird form of separation anxiety despite them sleeping in the same room ; for Minho it was a 13 minute long cat compilation. No thoughts, head empty… only cat. Jisung didn’t move, neither did Minho, but Jisung seemed much more inconvenienced sitting next to the other boy who was arguably comfortably lying down ready to sleep.

More silence. Then Jisung slipping into Minho's sleeping bag as well, snuggling up to his friend - warmth was truly the best way to feel safer. Minho said nothing. Instead of words, he responded with an embrace. A lazy one. He wasn't holding tightly onto Jisung anymore, it was rather relaxed... For the first time of the evening, Minho had relaxed, which only comforted his friend more. 

 " Night. " 

 " Night. "

[3:54 am]

... " Minho. Minho ? Hey, dude-- please wake up. " 

 " Mh... What ? It's late, why won't you let me... " 

 " I'm feeling something on me. Something that I don't think is your leg. It... it vibrates a little. Oh god. It’s a demon. There’s my sleep paralysis demon sleeping on me. I’m going to die. I’m sorry, Minho, I’m gonna have to leave you- " 

Flash. A small noise came from the... mass that was lying on Jisung, then two tiny ears perked up, followed by a meow. Quite the terrifying demon.

“ ... It’s a cat, “ Jisung observed, slowly coming down from his panicked state, while Minho had already sat up to pet the small animal. 

“ If your sleep paralysis demon’s a cat, I’m willing to get sleep paralysis. “

“ No, no ! It’s... fine. I had no idea it was a cat... “

Great way to make a fool of himself but it wasn’t like it was the first time, nor did Minho really seem to mind now that he had something to hold onto to keep calm.

“ I wonder how it got in, we kept the door and window closed... “

 " Ah, uh. Maybe the small hole. " 

 " I guess that’d make sense. Well, now that’s settled... We should just go back to sleep, yeah ? “

 " Yeah... " Jisung muttered.

That wasn’t something he’d expected. A cat... Maybe that was just how Minho was ? Capable of attracting nearby cats ? He’d never thought that’d be something he’d one day be grateful for, and yet here they were. This cat would be the key to a good night’s sleep, guaranteed, with the purring soothing him and the warmth... Again, warmth helping him feel safe. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

[5:26 pm]

“ You lost all the footage ? All of it ? “

The seven boys were glaring. Ouch, that kind of hurt, didn’t it ? While not all of them were as serious as Chan, it was kind of hard on Jisung... Lying to everyone like that, could they do it ? 

“ Oh, we sure did, “ he responded with that good ol’ fake confident smile, maintaining eye contact to the extreme, “ we’re all out of footage for the day ! “

“ Yeah, cameras said there was no space left before we were done filming and deleted everything stored in it. Sorry. “

Apparently, Minho could do it better than him without much trouble.

“ But instead, I’ve got something even better !”

Lo and behold, there’s a fucking cat in his coat ! Gasps coming from the younger boys and Changbin, Woojin aww-ing and Chan having to give it to him, getting a cat out of an investigation was pretty cool, the proud look on Minho’s face could not be more relieving to his more anxious friend.

“ I’m taking her home by the way, but I’ll let Jisung pick the name with me - don’t be too jealous, I’ll send you videos of her. “

They’d gotten one good thing out of this night. Jisung had gotten way with lying about the ghost of that cat. And... well, they’d gotten away with deleting the footage themselves, though they didn’t review it before doing so. How unfortunate that they didn’t see the man’s ghost petting the cat while they slept - that would’ve made their day !

[paladin-andric]

Forsaking the Vows

Being away from home right now, I felt the need to hammer out a short story to keep myself focused. This one’s a sequel to the finale of my 2018 Inktober collection...at least it would have been, if I hadn’t missed Day 1 and done it after. Here we see the fate of our old friend “Silhouette” and what happened after he threw in the towel!

There was once a valiant warrior, a shining holy knight of the church. With a greatsword that could cleave men in two and sturdy plate armor he was a force to be reckoned with.

A force for good. A force for the hurt and helpless to put their faith in.

The paladin was an able warrior, and went forth to do God’s work many times.

But his weakness was his stubbornness and inflexibility.

He was no tactician. He ran headfirst against his problems and tackled them without the slightest pause to plan ahead.

Compounding this, he worked alone.

Of course, when he heard a vile sorcerer was planning something on a worldwide scale, he went to stop the evildoer.

Angzan was to be his final opponent.

The half-dragon sorcerer knew the paladin was coming, because he loudly announced his presence when he arrived. He gave away the element of surprise. While alone. Against a sorcerer.

This knight may have been a brilliant fighter...but he was not very bright when it came to common sense.

Of course, that gave the sorcerer the opportunity he needed to triumph. The paladin had not prepared of course. He had enchanted armor that would turn away magic attacks.

So Angzan used mental trickery instead.

The paladin would have been fine if he’d bothered to bring someone else along, someone that could snap him out of it or attack the sorcerer while he was distracted.

But of course, he didn’t.

He was broken, and soon enough the sorcerer used further magics to rewrite his very being. The man, a human, was warped into a being of horns and onyx scales, becoming almost identical to his captor. His mind and memories were rewritten, until at last he was a different being entirely.

His mind shattered, his eyes glazed and soul corrupted...

He was now the loyal and dedicated servant of the dark sorcerer.

The paladin now worked with his rival turned master to oversee the conquest of the known world. His heart blackened, and he committed unspeakable acts, forsaking God and his vows and forever staining his soul with his sins.

However, it was not to be. Another paladin, one properly prepared and with backup, tracked down the two half-dragons and defeated them. The paladin purged the sorcerer’s influence from his comrade’s mind, and now himself, the former paladin turned and cut the sorcerer down.

The mission was a success. The sorcerer was dead and his plan had failed...only not all had ended happily. The fallen paladin, his heart full of grief, forsook his duty and resigned from the church. He fled back to his home, shame and fury overwhelming him. It was here he found even his family now despised him, and he finally lost any hope of things going back to the way they used to be.

He ran away, deep into the wilds. He spent many a moon weeping and cursing over his fate, but at last, time softened his pain. He turned his hovel into a farm, and soon enough everything else faded away. The church, the sorcerer, his friends and family...all the wrongs ever done against him had made him what he was, but he didn’t care anymore. He had at last found a calling, a reason to live once more…

…

The storyteller took a deep breath after recounting the tale, turning to his audience.

“And so ends our story...for now. It is no fabrication, this was a tale of a real man, and the trials he underwent. Now...who do you think that man was?”

A human in simple clothes was sat across from the storyteller, both of them using boxes as seats in the middle of an open field. He was an average looking man, with short brown hair, drab clothes...and a pit in his stomach.

“...that man was you, wasn’t it?”

The half-dragon before him nodded solemnly. “Yes. It was.” His voice was low, but that didn’t make detecting the melancholy in his tone any harder.

The human, a man named Theodore, had been cutting through the forest to get back to town when he stumbled across a farm...being worked by a half-dragon.

Seeing such a legendary and mighty beast, with inhuman power, scales as dark as the blackest night, and a terrifying visage doing something so mundane threw the man for a loop. The dragonoid noticed his curiosity, and invited him to sit down and talk. It was here he launched into his tale.

“You were a paladin...a legendary warrior…”

“Hard to imagine, isn’t it? A lowly farmer, traveling the land and doing battle.”

“And you threw it all away?”

“That’s right. After what happened I just...couldn’t, anymore. Everything I’d done, and what I had to suffer through...I’ve had enough holy work to last a lifetime.”

“And your family...they didn’t understand?”

The half-dragon bared his fearsome teeth in a grimace. “They’d never seen a half-dragon before. They...they thought I was a monster. After I explained it was me, they thought I’d been cursed, that I’d been possessed by demons. My wife, she took our younger son and ran. My elder son, he...he tried to duel me.”

“Duel you?!”

The dragonoid’s eyes dropped to the floor. He slowly nodded. “Yeah. He...he came at me with a sword. He followed me into the wilds despite me never once trying to fight back. Our showdown was in the meadows not too far from here.”

The man’s face went pale. “Wait, you didn’t…”

The dragonoid shook his head. “Never in a million years. I disarmed him, restrained him when he wouldn’t stop. It was...to have to fight your own son like that, I…”

The dragonoid lowered his head, putting his face in his clawed hands.

Theodore looked away. “God...that’s…”

“What did I do to deserve this? The day before I entered that cavern...everything was perfect. I had a family, friends, I was doing God’s work...and now it’s all ashes.”

The human clenched his fist. “Look, I can’t say I know how it feels, but...there’s hope. You’ve got this, haven’t you?” He gestured to the land around him.

The dragonoid laughed, moving so that his head was resting against one hand. “Yes, I do...ah, this farm. Like I said, it’s all that’s keeping me going right now. I never realized how much I enjoyed the simple life. Planting, tending and harvesting, caring for the animals, relaxing out front and watching the clouds go by...it’s peaceful, you know. Peace I could never afford during my journeys.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. I live in town, but I always thought a homestead would be nice.”

The dragonoid looked to the side. “This place, it’s lovely. I never forgot what happened to me. I never truly got over it, either. I’m still bitter over being cursed like this, but thanks to the farm...I have a small measure of peace. Something to bring me happiness, a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Someone’s gotta keep this place tidy, you know?”

A small, orange cat plodded over to where the pair were talking, letting out a loud meow and walking back and forth in between the half-dragon’s legs.

“Oh, someone wants attention!” the dragon said with a laugh, leaning down and gentle petting the cat. The cat quickly stopped circling him and dropped onto its side, sprawling out as the dragon continued petting it.

“He yours, or just comes around?”

“Just showed up one day,” the dragonoid answered, “Now he comes around all the time looking for food and attention. He keeps the mice away from the grain, so no harm in letting him stick around.”

“Hmm…” the human crossed his arms. “So you’re all alone out here? Everyone really turned their back on you?”

“What? Naw,” the half-dragon said with a dismissive wave, “Not all of ‘em. My family, yeah, but I was the one that turned my back on the church, not the other way around. As I’ve explained, I’m just so...tired. I can’t do it anymore, not after that. I just wanted to settle down and live a normal life. As normal as you can live when you’ve got dragonblood in you, anyway. Andric comes over to chat every so often. He was a paladin I worked with before all of this. He’s a good friend.”

“Well, at least you’ve got someone.”

The dragonoid shrugged. “You’re right. I can count my blessings...on one hand, but they’re good blessings.”

“So you’ve never thought of going back, huh?”

The half-dragon shook his head. “I brought shame upon myself with my actions. I was humiliated and broken. I was not strong enough. I retired myself as a paladin so that someone more worthy could take up the mantle. It’s not a path I seek to return to, especially with how I embarrassed myself. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m happy with what I’ve got. Maybe someday I’ll grow tired of this, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, this place is a sanctuary of sorts. A small measure of peace, as I’ve said.”

The half-dragon was smiling wistfully now as he gazed off into the clouds up above. There was no doubting the truth in his words. He wasn’t as miserable as his story had led the man to believe. He had been once, but he’d reconciled himself with his past, mostly. He seemed to be using this way of life he enjoyed so much as a method of coping, or forgetting.

Theodore shrugged. “I dunno. You don’t seem so bad to me. I bet you would’ve made a great paladin...in another life. But if this is your calling, I’m glad you’ve found it. Everyone deserves to chase what they love, and this land, right here? It’s all yours. If you want this, don’t let anyone stop you.”

The dragonoid seemed to reflect on these words, running a claw against his neck. “Hmm...you know, you’re alright, Theodore. It must have been hard to approach someone so frightening, yet here you are, giving me a pep-talk to boot.”

“Well I know this guy in the academy. He’s a halfbreed, like you, so I guess I’m a little accustomed.”

“Academy? Are you a magician?”

The human held his hands up. “Nooooo, no. Just friends with him. I’m just a carpenter.”

“Ah. I see. I guess it’s good to know I’m not alone in this. Perhaps I should seek out others that are...like this...and see if they have any advice for adapting.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Theodore agreed, “I’m sure at least one of them has some good advice.”

“Mhm. Well...I’d better get back to work. The chickens need their water.”

“I hear you.”

The dragonoid stood up, his size dwarfing the human as he did the same. “Thanks for making my break a pleasant one, though! Have yourself a great day.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Though...maybe I can visit every now and then, too? I run over to the city to gather supplies once in a while, and since I cut through here it’d be easy...only if you want, of course!”

The dragonoid smiled and crossed his arms. “You know...I’d love that. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Theodore.”

“You too, uh…”

The half-dragon blinked and went rigid for a moment. “By God, I never even introduced myself! I got all wrapped up in telling my story...well, the name’s Roland.”

The carpenter nodded deeply. “Good to meet you, Roland. Thanks for the hospitality, I’m sure most farmers would be livid if some fool cut across their land.”

“Ah, well, you know. It’s been awhile since I’ve had company. Hey, next time you come here I could put something on the stove for you. Show you some real hospitality, eh?”

“You’re too kind...well, I’ll be off now. Have a good day, Roland! Remember what I said!”

The dragonoid watched the man go, his bag slung over his shoulder as he marched off to the nearby town. He sighed, feeling content. As much as he had chosen to isolate himself, breaking that isolation every now and then was a great relief. Perhaps he’d just had bad luck with his family...maybe everyone didn’t hate him the way he imagined.

With the human gone, he reached into a pouch on his belt and fished out a cross. He may have stopped working for the church, but that didn’t mean he had abandoned the faith altogether. He pressed the cross against his chest and closed his eyes, mumbling a prayer quietly to himself.

“Lord, please offer me forgiveness, undeserving of it though I am…”

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadchronicles, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @fierywords, @shewrites-sometimes, @nerds-and-nebulae, @purpleshadows1989

[resxrepente]

Yet again, Syrena found herself outside Thomas’ cell. Her paws on the cold ground as she wiggled her slight Cat frame through the bars and into the cell he was being held in. She usually stayed in her cat form when she came to visit him, would curl up on his lap or beside him, let him talk as she just stayed to comfort him. Sometimes, she thought it was selfish of her, that she was going more for herself, then for him, but  by the end of each night, the two would part, and he would thank her.

    Tonight was different though, tonight was his last night. Tomorrow, they would hang the man she loved. The man she couldn’t be with no matter how much she loved him. 

As she squeezed through the bars, she let out a soft meow, and he turned his head, smiling as soon as he saw her. Unlike most cats, Syrena could still cry. It was an odd sight, but as the tears began to fill her eyes, she saw Thomas reach out to her.

   "Shhh, Syrena, do not cry. Do not give them your tears.” He breathed and pet her head as she moved closer and climbed onto his lap. She wished so much that she could be in her human form right now. To be able to kiss his hands, to hold him, and just let him know that she will always love him. But they couldn’t risk it. It was a risk her being here in cat form. But a risk both were willing to take. She would just get out before they could catch her.

What hurt the most, was knowing that he was going off to be hung, for something he had nothing to do with. Witchcraft. And even though he knew she was a witch, he never once considered handing her in, to free himself. She looked up at him, with her large oval eyes. She had very cat shaped eyes at a human. So her eyes always seemed to look the same. At least, thats what Thomas had told her. As he started to stroke his fingers through her fur, she looked up at him and let out a soft Meow.

“Nothing you can do will change my fate Syrena.” He said. It was almost like he could read her mind, like he knew everything she was thinking. She sighed and lift herself, her paws resting on his chest to bring herself closer to his face.

His hands cupped her face lightly, then ran down her sides “I’m here, because I choose to protect you, to make sure you continue to live.” He breathed.

The young woman couldn’t take it, she couldn’t just sit here in Cat form and not talk to him. She climbed off his lap and moved over to the thin sheet that had been his only source of warmth when he slept. She slipped under it, and slowly the small mound grew bigger as she transformed into her human form.

“Syrena.” He said Quietly, “You can’t be seen like this.” He said, moving to her and pulling the thin sheet tighter around her, and then looking at her, his eyes softening, his hand stroking her soft pale cheek.

“I couldn’t not say goodbye Thomas.” She breathed, lifting a hand and touching his cheek lightly. The stubble prickled against her hand, where he had been unshaven for days. “I hate that they are doing this to you, because they don’t understand what I really am.” She told him. “I hate that I am losing you, because of fear mongering about something no one cares to learn about.” She added. 

   His hand moved from her cheek and entangled lightly in her hair, combing through her long blonde hair. He always seemed so amazed by her golden locks, but then again most the womens hair in this community was somewhat dry, fine, and damaged. Hers was not. It was long, soft, and had light curls. She was always envied for her hair. 

She closed her eyes and lent into his hand, wishing to always remember his touch. The way his fingers felt on her skin, the way his warmth seemed to run through her whole body, despite only touching a small area of skin.

   "Thomas, you know this is not witch craft, don’t you? You know that I’m not a devil worshipper, that my craft comes from the energy of the earth and the skies?” She questioned.

   His fingers continued to comb through her hair, his eyes watching his fingers, like he was trying to hold onto that memory " I know its not.” He assured her. “You have more good in you, then anyone else here. That is not something a Devil worshipper would be capable of.” He told her, resting her uneasy thoughts.

   His lips pressed to her forehead again, and stayed a while. "You will always be in my thoughts Syrena. In the life to come, I will always think of you, and watch over you.” He told her, as he pulled back to look at her again.

Her eyes closed, as tears ran down her cheeks “And you will always be in mine.” She told him. “I will never forget that you are here, because you wish to protect me.” She then said, opening her eyes and looking at him again. “I love you Thomas.” She then breathed.

There were now tears filling his eyes and he smiled softly. “As I you Syrena.” He whispered.

Both of them looked at the door as there was a noise from down the corridor. He looked back at her and cupped both her cheeks. "Thank you for being you tonight. But you have to change back now, you have to get out before they see you“ He whispered softly.

   A small smile graced her lips "I wouldn’t be anyone else tonight.” She whispered back, but nodded as she closed her eyes and started to shift back into her Cat form, before anyone came to check up on him, but as she shifted, tears filled her eyes even more. This was it, this was their last night.

“Syrena...” He breathed as she now sat among the blankets in her cat form. “Promise me two things..” He said.

She meowed softly, to let him know she was listening.

“Do not try and stop tomorrow, for they will only think it Devils witchcraft. Let it be, let my spirit be free from this place.” He said. She looked down, and gave a small noise to let him know she promised. She then lift her head, as if to question what the other promise was.

He smiled softly “Stay here till morning. Like this is more than enough, but please, let us just have this night.” He whispered. 

Syrena moved and curled up onto his lap, letting him know that she promised him that. She knew he wouldn’t sleep that night, and neither would she, she just needed to be here with him.

   She didn’t want the sun to rise, maybe she could find some way to stop it, but that truly would be evoking the dark magic, and then she would be proving all those people right, that Witchcraft was a sin. So instead, she just wasted their final hours, sitting on his lap, as his fingers continued to run through her fur, and he hummed to himself, almost as if he was comforting her, more than himself.

 The night seemed to go far too quickly, and soon, light started to appear through the bars of the cell window. A noise down the hall signified that it was indeed sunrise, where they would take him to be questioned once again, before finally leading him to the hanging block.

He gently lift her chin. “Go.” He breathed, looking into her eyes and lent in, kissing the top of her fur covered head. “We will be together again one day.” He whispered.

A single tear rolled down from her almond shaped eyes, her head rubbed against his hand. She was tiny against him, her face was small in his hands. Slowly she turned as the footsteps drew closer and as she slipped through the tight gap once again. Her tail had just brushed the cold metal, when she felt his fingers “I love you Syrena.” He whispered. She turned back, looking at his face, the sunlight shining off his tired weary face, and for the first time in weeks, he seemed a little lighter than he had in a long time.

She knew he would still deny it, she knew that his name would be called that morning, and that he would be marched up onto the platform. And she knew she would have to watch the man she loved, die.

  Through it all, he had kept her secret, hadn’t told a soul of who, or what she really was. Instead, he stood, innocent, having protected her from the men that convicted him.

              He stood pure and true, infront of a crowd of cowards.

  Her heart slowed as she looking straight at him, his gaze was only on hers. There was no malice in those eyes. Only Love, and kindness, and peace. His eyes were only focused on her, and he smiled softly, mouthing ‘I Love you’

  No wonder she loved this man, this true giant among the cockroaches who feared everything they could not understand. He did not deserve this fate, he did not deserve to meet the noose, nor the end, he deserved life, deserved to feel the sun on his skin, the rain on his face.

                     Not the cold earth upon his lifeless body.

  She looked up at the skies and clasped her hands together around her necklace.

  She started to mutter Latin under her breath She breathed, barely above a whisper, so no one could hear her, and only believed she uttered prayer, for forgiveness on his soul. “ut animam tuam, libera in sempiternum” In a way, it was a prayer, a prayer to make sure his soul would be free and forever. She continued to utter them quietly, her eyes still on his, as he looked at her, wondering what she may of been asking.

She wished for a way for him to live on, but knew she couldn’t stop the noose, or transform him into something else, all she could hope is that his soul would live on in her, in some way.

  She was so consumed in her words, as her eyes continued to look into his, tears filling her eyes, as he finally broke their gaze and looked up at the sun filled sky, peace in his face as he closed his eyes, accepting his fate, all to save Her.

There was a load crack, and the crowd either cheered quietly, or gasped as her beloved slipped under the platform and hung below it, neck broken. Tears filled her eyes, as her words got quicker, and her heart pounded, seeing the sight of him body, lifeless. She fell to her knees, her tears turning into Sobs as she continued to utter her words, her thoughts wishing she could bring him back to life.

She closed her eyes and continued to utter her words through her sobs, her voice a little louder as she asked for his soul to be free over and over again. She hadn’t noticed the sky darken at first, hadn’t noticed the thick clouds that seemed to consume the light that had once filled the sky. It was only when she heard the loud crack of Thunder, and the gasps of the those who came to see a hanging, that she realised mother Nature was finding a way to answer her silent prayer. she jumped and looked at the gallows, at her beloved. Body hung limp, feet dangling. He really was gone. No life clung to that body no more. She screamed as rain poured down from the thick clouds, Thunder and lightening echoed as people began to scream and look at her.

  Her heart felt like it had stopped, like everything she had ever gone through no longer matter, for she failed the one thing she truly desired to fulfil, to be with Thomas.

“Your Souls are dammed for killing an innocent man.” She shouted, looking at the people who were looking up at the sky and screaming, fleeing from the scene. It was like God had come to punish them.

Was it God? Was it Her? She wasn’t sure. Her mentor once told her that Witches could connect with the elements. That their souls could control them. Was that what was happening here? Was her sorrow being reflected in the strange turn of weather?

She looked at the body once again, eyes red and sore, wishing that she could take him down, lay him peacefully on the ground, as a large clap of lightening struck the rope, and his body dropped to the floor. 

Syrena ran to the body, and she touched his cheek, still warm, but the life truly was gone. She rest her head on his chest. “I’m Sorry Thomas, I am so sorry I couldn’t save you.” She sobbed, her hands clutching his clothes as she sobbed over him, wishing his life to return, so they could run off together. But she knew she couldn’t, she wasn’t that powerful.

But it seemed the weather seemed to disagree with her power. It was almost pitch black, and soon it was silent. The thunder stopped, the lightening stopped, the ran stopped. It was just black.

“We will be together again one day.” She breathed, lifting her head and stroking his face. She removed the rope from his neck, moved his arms so his hands rest lightly on his chest, and positioned him in a more peaceful posture.

“Promise me, you will never leave me.” She whispered, leaning in and kissing his forehead.

Soon the shouts started again, people crying in fear, cursing one another, and begging God for forgiveness, begging for their souls. If only they saw the truth before now, if only they didn’t hang the man she loved. With one more final kiss, in the thick blackness, she transformed into her cat form, her clothes pooling beside Thomas’ lifeless body, as she ran on all fours as fast as she could, wanting to get away from the people she could never forgive or trust again. It wouldn’t be long before they turned on another in violence, and she didn’t want to be here when that happened.

She stopped by a tree, and glanced back at him 

                                                ‘we will find a way to be together again, my love.’

@parallellives

[creative-type]

Monster of the Salt Rock Hills VII

First

Previous

AO3

AN: So this is shorter than I would have liked it, but I have had a dearth of writing time lately, and the choice was shorter (hopefully) more frequent chapters versus longer, more sporadic updates

Summary:  The day after stopping a drath summoning gone horribly wrong, Orrig and his team are summoned to the Salt Rock Hills to find and eliminate a monster that has been ravaging the countryside. But things quickly go awry and it soon becomes apparent that nothing about this case is as it seems. Thistle must learn to work together with her new coworkers and overcome her own insecurities to find  the truth of the monster of the Salt Rock Hills. Set immediately after Chapter 6: The Knowing Ones

Chapter Seven: In Which Some Questions are Answered (and Others Aren’t)

It wasn’t long after Thistle ended the spell with Orrig that she began to have second thoughts. She was absolutely convinced that what Rhys had done was wrong and certain that Isla was innocent, but she wasn’t sure there was anything Orrig could do about it, or even if he would want to. This wasn’t their job, and they were scheduled to leave once it got light enough to travel. Rhys even had the local authority backing his actions.

It was truly none of their business, but Thistle couldn’t forget the way Isla looked at her as she was being drug away with all the care afforded a sack of potatoes—like she were some kind of monster, and not a person. Just remembering it made Thistle furious, but it was an impotent anger. For all her magic, she was powerless. Powerless, and weak, and useless…

Thistle waited for Orrig from the porch of Dr. Malady’s house. The sky was beginning to stir with soft, pre-dawn light, bathing the landscape with pockets of shadow and bleaching the rest of its natural color. Thistle saw best in true darkness or complete light, and this in-between made her eyes smart. Or perhaps it was the lack of sleep. She rubbed her eyes as a hulking figure crested of the hill leading to the house, trailed by two smaller figures.

None of them were properly dressed. Orrig wasn’t wearing a shirt at all, while Brent’s was on inside out. Lyra almost looked presentable, but her hair was struggling more than normal to escape its tie. They had come as quickly as they could, leaving everything except for their weapons behind.

“Hey Thistle are you—“ Lyra yawned enormously. “—Are you okay?”

Their thoughtfulness made Thistle feel even more worthless. “There’s been some sort of mistake. Rhys arrested Isla Clark. He says she’s been poaching winged horses.”

“The mage from the dead mercenary team?” Brent asked.

“He just took her away without listening to what she had to say. I saw her leg, and there’s no way she could have gone to the Hills and back all those times,” Thistle said frantically. “I-I know I should have waited until it was properly morning, but Rhys was hurting her. She wasn’t even wearing shoes, and when I tried to stop him he said he’d arrest me too.”

Lyra’s expression hardened. “He what?”

“I didn’t know what I was supposed to do,” Thistle said. “He had Mum and Rizaek with him, and a warrant for Isla’s arrest. He can’t do this, can he? The guild doesn’t have the authority to put people into prison?”

She looked up helplessly at Orrig for answers. He’d not said a word except to say he would come to Dr. Malady’s house. Her confused rambling made his mouth drew into a tighter line. “You did goot to call. Did elf say vhy he arrest mage?”

“No, he just said that she’d confess once she saw the evidence he had.”

“Hmn.”

“You walked with Isla out to the Hills,” Thistle said. “You don’t think she could go out to the springs for weeks to kill winged horses, do you?”

Orrig sighed heavily. “Nyet. Vas…painful vatching.”

“This doesn’t make any &$#% sense,” Brent said. “Rhys could get in a lot of trouble for arresting the wrong person. *#&@, he shouldn’t be the one arresting her!”

“Well, I’d say it’s because she’s a mage,” Lyra said. “Do you think a bunch of backwater hicks who’ve never seen any magic in their lives would want to try to apprehend a mage without any firepower of their own? Rhys has got those &#*@#&! bracers plus a pet spellslinger of his own. If he’s smart he’ll charge a little bit extra for doing something outside of his initial contract, but I’m not so sure he’s got two good brain cells to rub together.”

“But why go through all that effort? You saw the horses out here. They can’t be worth that much,” Brent protested.

“Five gold pieces a feather,” Thistle said quietly. “Do you remember? The wings were missing when we got there.”

Lyra let out a surprised hiss, and Brent winced. Together the three of them looked up to Orrig for his verdict. Though his face was unreadable as ever Thistle found herself ready to trust whatever he decided. The feeling surprised her, but she quickly buried it. 

Slowly Orrig nodded. “I vill talk to elf. Ve wait here until full light. I agree dat mage probably not one killing horses, but maybe elf have proof. Need more information. Until den, ve rest.”

“You expect us to just wait?” Lyra said.

“I expect to be smart,” Orrig said, his tone brooking no room for argument. “Elf has job, ve intruding. Make mistake and mayor vill throw us out on zhopa. As is right.”

Orrig leaned his axe against the outside of the house before ducking inside, stopping only to give Thistle a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Grumbling, Lyra followed, while Brent fumbled to unbuckle the sword from his hip. He set it next to the axe before turning to Thistle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you okay? You, um, look kind of stressed out.”

Thistle’s shoulders slumped. Was it that obvious? “I guess I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Did you really look at that mage-chick’s leg?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t pretty.” Thistle shook her head. “I don’t understand, that bite is proof enough that there’s something in the Hills. Does Rhys think she killed her teammates too?”

“Dunno, but Orrig’s going to find out.” Brent held the door open for her. “If you didn’t sleep good that means you need rest most of all. I think we’re all going to need a clear head to figure this one out.”

Thistle went to the parlor, now empty and forlorn. The three beeswax candles burned brightly, dripping wax onto the wrought iron stand. There was no need for them with dawn quickly coming, and with a snap of her fingers Thistle doused the flames.

A small black mass stirred from the chair that had until recently been occupied by Isla Clark, and Salem blinked his golden eyes as the ripple of magic passed overhead. He looked at Thistle and meowed, as if in question.

It was only in stories where witches befriended black cats, but it seemed like this one had taken quite a liking to Isla. Thistle wandered over and patted his head. “I don’t know, but I promise that I’m going to find out.”

It took a few minutes to figure out where everyone was supposed to go. Despite suggesting rest, Orrig insisted that he was fully awake and settled at the table, deep in thought. Lyra went to Thistle’s room to freshen up while Brent dozed in the parlor. Thistle knew she ought to do the same, but she was full of restless energy and found herself drawn to the back garden.

The sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon as Thistle slumped into the chair Dr. Malady had used the day before to snap beans. The bucket had not been touched, and Thistle used her magic to set it over near the heaping pile of garlic.

For a moment she allowed herself to just sit, taking deep breaths of the crisp country air. Her eyes fluttered closed, so heavy with sleep that Thistle wasn’t sure she’d be able to pry them open again. The image of dead horses and malicious mercenaries were tattooed to the back of her eyelids. 

Orrig would sort it, and Thistle trusted his judgement. There would be plenty of time to question the wisdom of that decision later, but seeing how Rhys treated employees and employers alike had made her realize how lucky she’d been to end up with this group of mercenaries, flawed and dysfunctional as they were.

It was strangely comforting to know that she wouldn’t have to solve everything by herself. Thistle drifted into an uneasy slumber that was only broken with the return of Dr. Malady.

“Well hello there. I wasn’t expecting you all quite this early.”

Thistle jumped out of her seat as Orrig responded, his voice too low for her to pick out, and rushed back into the house. Dr. Malady stood in the entranceway of the house, a bemused smile on her tired face. The white coat that marked her profession was creased, with a dark stain on the cuff of her left sleeve. She shrugged it off after setting down her heavy black bag. “Oh, things went quite well. Healthy mother and baby, and I’ve time for a nap before setting off on rounds. I terribly sorry, I’d planned to have breakfast ready before you left.”

The doctor’s smile faltered when she saw Thistle. “Is everything all right? You look exhausted.”

Thistle glanced at Orrig, who gave a subtle nod, and swallowed hard. Then, praying that Dr. Malady would forgive her for failing to protect Isla, she told her everything that had happened.

Dr. Malady’s anger was a quiet thing, and somehow that made it worse. She listened to Thistle’s disjointed tale without uttering a single word, except to occasionally ask for clarification on an unclear point. A steely glint entered her eyes, and her lips pursed into an increasingly thin line. When Thistle was finished she strode over to her small kitchen and put on a kettle of water to boil.

“I’m beginning to think that elf doesn’t know his head from his @$$,” Dr. Malady said darkly. “He wouldn’t even been in this godsforsaken town if it weren’t for Isla, and he’s going to accuse her of killing the winged horses?”

“What do you mean?” Thistle said.

Dr. Malady leaned against the counter, her back to Orrig and Thistle. Her hands clenched into fists, each tendon stretching taunt against her skin. “You have to understand, we thought that the monster was dead. The search team that found Isla, Marco, and Lucian never did find a body, but there was the matter of the missing sword. Everyone assumed…” She sighed, and began pulling mugs from a cupboard. “Does everyone like tea?”

Thistle felt Brent come up behind her, and a moment later Lyra emerged from the bedroom. On some unspoken cue they joined Orrig at the table.

“It vould be much help iv you tell us vat you know,” Orrig prompted.

“And what are you planning to do with the knowledge?” Dr. Malady asked. “What happened in the Hills that night has been subject to enough rumor to ruin Isla’s life without me spreading tales I only half understand.”

“Look, we’re just trying to help,” Lyra said, not unkindly. “We can’t prove Rhys wrong without evidence.”

Some of the defensiveness left Dr. Malady, but she remained guarded as she said, “Isla doesn’t remember everything that happened during the attack. I’ll I can tell you is guesswork and hearsay.”

“That’s better than nothing,” Brent said.

Dr. Malady considered this as she polished her glasses. “Do you really think you can help Isla?”

“We can try.”

Thistle was surprised that the words came from her. She’d been content to let the others speak for her. There was less chance she’d mess something up that way. Dr. Malady returned her glasses to their rightful position and studied Thistle as if she were one of her patients and she was contemplating the best course of treatment for a deadly disease.

Finally she came to a decision. With deft motions Dr. Malady filled five mugs with steaming hot water and set them before the adventurers. “Before the town voted on whether to hire a mercenary team, Mayor Stone had me conduct a post-mortem on one of the horses Carson found. I’d never seen anything like it before in my life.”

She swirled the contents of her mug and took a bracing sip. “At first I thought it’d been ripped apart by scavengers. Then I seen its heart. It…I don’t even know how to describe it. Exploded, I suppose, blown apart from the inside out until only shreds was left that held it together.” Dr. Malady let out a humorless laugh. “For a time I didn’t even recognize it was a heart.

“That convinced most of the town that the monster was real, though a few argued otherwise. It almost came to blows, but the vote settled it. Everyone contributed as their means allowed, and Jacob Swinehart was commissioned to hire a team out of Crossroads.”

“Vhy Jacob Swinehart?” Orrig asked.

Dr. Malady shrugged. “His business takes him to town quite often. Suppliers don’t come this far north, so he has to go south. If anyone would know where to go to hire out a team, it’d be Jacob.”

“Even though he doesn’t believe in the monster?” Lyra said.

“He wasn’t too happy about having to give up his hard-earned coin,” Dr. Malady said, managing an approximation of a smile. “In any case, Marco Russo specialized in tracking and trapping monsters. He brought Isla and an elf by the name of Lucian with him, but weeks passed and even he couldn’t figure out what was doin’ all the killing. He had me exhume the one I’d examined for clues, but no such luck.”

“So he decided to wait and see if they could catch the monster in action,” Thistle said.

“Just so,” Dr. Malady confirmed. “When they didn’t return the next morning a search team was formed. They found Marco with his throat cut out, while Lucian had been thrown against a boulder with enough force to crack open his skull. Isla was unconscious in a pool of her own blood. They brought her to me, but whatever magic she’d done had already closed the wound.”

“I heard she had claws,” Brent said.

“People need to learn to keep things to himself,” Dr. Malady said with a beleaguered sigh. “But it’s true. Her finger- and toenails were like claws, and her hair had grown and greyed. People thought the monster had possessed her—some still think the monster possessed her. I didn’t know what had happened, and she wouldn’t wake up. I had to call every favor ever owed to me t’ get a proper healer to look at her, for all the good it did. I was told the hair and nails was a side effect of the spell that Isla did on her leg, and that she’d either wake up or she wouldn’t. There was nothing that could be done.”

Dr. Malady sighed again, the lines in her face deepening. “The search team scoured high an’ low for the monster but didn’t find a thing, and later someone realized that Lucian’s sword had gone missing, too. A couple days later Isla came to…I had to tell her what happened. She blamed herself for everything, said it was her fault the monster attacked them.”

There was uncomfortable silence, and an involuntary shiver went up Thistle’s spine. She couldn’t imagine how horrible it would wake up and realize your coworkers were dead, or what it would be like to have to break that news.

“Did she give reason?” Orrig finally asked.

“No. Isla didn’t say anything at all except to say the last thing she remembered was Lucian attacking the monster, his sword drawn. So the question was, if he attacked the thing, where’d his sword go?” Dr. Malady shook her head.

“Enough time passed that everyone figured that Lucian managed to land a death blow before succumbing to his wounds and the monster went off somewhere to die. No one except Carson was willing to go far into the Hills, and his father wouldn’t let him past the abandoned mines. The matter was settled, and as the one surviving member of the team Isla got the bounty.”

Something told Thistle that this was important, and she remembered Orrig’s look when Mayor Stone said that his people had paid twice for the same job. Luckily Lyra asked the question she was thinking. “Wait, Isla got the entire payout?”

“Who else would it go to?” Dr. Malady asked. “Marco Russo was licensed—the guild has got benefits for surviving family in the case of something like this, and according to the records we were given Lucian had no next of kin. We didn’t even have a place to send the body. I think he’s the only elf in our cemetery.”

“But the monster wasn’t dead,” Brent said.

“No, but the books were closed on it as if it were,” Dr. Malady said. “We had to submit a completely new request once this new round of killing started, but since it was a confirmed man-killer it was considered a more dangerous job.”

“More expensive,” Orrig said

“Exactly,” Dr. Malady said. “We could barely afford Marco. There was no way we’d be able to afford a more expensive team, except Isla give over every penny she had to make up the difference. I tried to talk her out of it. What she had would have gone a long way for a prosthetic leg, but she wouldn’t hear of it. I’m telling you, there’s no one who wants to the monster killed more than Isla Clark.”

Dr. Malady looked nearly sick with worry while the rest processed what she said. Orrig drank his tea in one gulp before rising to his feet. “Thank you. Is very helpful. I vill tell elf vat you tell me.”

“And if he doesn’t listen I’ll punch him in the face,” Lyra added.

“No,” Orrig said. “I vill go by self.”

“But Orrig…”

“No but. Go find Isla, ask vat happen. Maybe she know more than she think.”

“How’s that gonna help when she doesn’t remember anything?” Brent said.

“She remember elf attack monster. Go see vat else. I vill take care of Rhys.”

Orrig’s voice took on a particular tone when he was giving orders, an unmovable authority that had come to a decision and would not be moved off course. It was a subtle change, but one that Thistle was beginning to recognize. She hurried to her feet, her tea untouched. “Um, I need to get something. Just give me a minute.”

Without waiting for an answer Thistle hurried down the hallway and entered Isla’s bedroom. Silently apologizing for the invasion of privacy, she scanned the room until she found what she was looking for. In less than a minute she was back in the parlor where Orrig, Brent, and Lyra were readying to leave.

“What was that all about?” Lyra asked.

Thistle almost died with embarrassment under their quizzical stares. “Rhys didn’t give her a chance to put on her shoes,” she mumbled, holding the sturdy boots to her chest. The left was bulkier than the right, some sort of leather brace giving extra support for her bad ankle. The healing Thistle had done had helped, but Isla would still need to take precautions to avoid injuring it any further.

Lyra shrugged, while Orrig gave an approving grunt and Brent nodded. Thistle let out a small sigh of relief at their non-reaction, only to realize that Dr. Malady was still staring at her, utterly dumbfounded.

It took her a moment before Dr. Malady could speak again, and when she did her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “I’ll leave things in your capable hands. I’m glad that Isla has someone like you on her side.”

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

A cat person - Sirius Black x Reader

Request: DAMN I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS! Can I request a Sirius x reader where he finds her as animagus (cat) and become super close and always tries to take her to his room and class and everywhere but like.. she can’t and one day decides to tell him?❤️❤️ Yayyy!

Warnings: Um, I don’t really know. My English, not that great? Image and Gif aren’t mine. Credits to their original owners.

Masterlist

You had finally achieved the transformation.

You had tried for months, followed every step. Of course, nobody knew. You, however,  had guessed that McGonagall was an exception. You had to keep a leaf of a Mandrake in your mouth for an entire month and you could honestly say that it sucked. You weren’t able to speak or eat properly and even the last person that you talked to was worried that something was wrong. Lily had even insisted for you to visit Madam Pomfrey. But you managed to escape that. She would know instantly.

Another bummer was that you couldn’t choose your animagus form. If you could, you would very much like to be a lion or a tiger or even a cat. You knew that your form would represent your personality and you liked to think that you, just like a cat, can show all the affection in the world if someone had earned it but was independent and very well self-sufficient. And it was cute. You had read that your animagus form and your Patronus could be the same. There was an exception, though. Your Patronus could change- so it would represent the soul of your significant other. You didn’t know your Patronus yet but you were quite positive that it would reveal your long-time crush on a certain raven-haired, gray-eyed boy. The crush was formed the very moment you laid eyes on him. But you were not that great when it came to actions. You just sat back while he slept with everyone. Literally everyone. But you didn’t do anything. What could you do anyways?  So, here you were. Your first transformation. You felt dizzy-like you had been drinking for a while. Kind of light headed. You looked down. Paws? Small paws? You wanted to squeal in happiness and excitement but all you managed to do was meow.

“Aren’t you adorable?”. Wait. What? You stopped walking because two strong hands picked you up, gently. You wanted to tell them to put you back down that instant but again, you just meowed. He laughed. Oh, no. You knew that sound. You knew that laugh. Just your luck. “Fiesty. But adorable” he continued, slightly petting your head, his slender fingers going through your fur. You purred before you could stop yourself. You must have been tiny for him to carry you in his palms.

“How did you end up here, alone?” he asked you and you felt the urge to facepalm. You moved your paws in a way that revealed your annoyance. He smiled and you felt yourself melting under his touch. But why was he outside that late?

“You need a name, don’t you?” he said softly. Not that you didn’t like him being there or that you were complaining. You leaned your head to his fingers. That was all it took. His smile dropped.

“Care to listen?” he simply asked you, his voice strained of happiness. You meowed. He remained still for a moment. You nudged him with your head.

“I have to be in my dorm and you are coming with me”. Was he insane? He was talking to a cat. Did he expect an answer? He chuckled. His friends were fast asleep and you felt really bad for him. He truly needed someone to listen. He plopped down onto his bed, softly placing you onto his lap. You nuzzled him and purred, rubbing your head against his stomach. He was petting you like it was calming him down. “Alright, tiger. Here is the deal…”Tiger? Really, tiger? He started telling you about his life and his family and even you wouldn’t call those people family; how he was treated and how he reacted. Eventually, he admitted that he wasn’t carefree and that it hurt him when he was disowned because after all, he was their son, their blood and you saw how hard it was for him. He tried to play it off but you just gave him a sympathetic look and bit his fingers playfully. What did I just do? You spent all night with him-in your animagus form, of course. At some point he fell asleep, his hands still petting you. You felt torn. You wanted to stay but you had to - To hell with it. You carefully moved near his head, curled up in a furry ball and fell asleep. You wanted to show him that someone did care.

That had been going on about a month now. You were staying all night with him and once he got out of the room for breakfast you’d run like hellfire was coming your way. Just to make it in time. The last couple of days though, he had tried to carry you to class with him. Something that was impossible. You would miss the class and all of the professors would know that you were an illegal animagus. Neither were things you were looking forward to. He, however, had managed to do it yesterday.

You were extremely uncomfortable. You hadn’t managed to stop him from carrying you to McGonagall’s class.Out of all of your professors, it had to be the other cat animagus. You knew she knew the moment she saw you. She smiled to herself.

“Mr. Black what on earth are you carrying?” she questioned him but her voice wasn’t stiff. She actually enjoyed it. “My cat. Meet Tiger. Tiger, meet Minnie” he proudly introduced you. You were thankful that animals don’t blush. “Your..cat?” she raised an eyebrow in question. Sirius grinned like a mad man. “I adopted her” he answered, thinking that Minnie would be proud. And she was. But for a different reason. She just gave him a pointed look and walked away.

“I am not sure you want that kind of relationship with her” she whispered under her breath but you heard it.

You walked into his room. A cat. A cat walked into his room. You had to remind yourself a couple of times that all he ever saw was a cat. You had learned that he was an animagus too- a black dog, which was the biggest irony in the world- as well as Remus’ secret. Not that you didn’t suspect it earlier. His words came as a confirmation. He was already inside, looking kind of mad. “You sneaky little Tiger” he said in a mocking way, pointing you-the cat. You furrowed your eyebrows, wait-not yours per say. You waltzed all the way to him, jumped on his bed and made yourself comfortable on his lap. You gave him a puzzled look or at least that was what you were aiming for. You meowed in protest when he removed you from his lap and almost scratched him.

“You haven’t let me impress her! She is never around when you are. Let me take you to her. PLEASE” he exclaimed with a funny look on his face. Oh, no. He wanted to use you to impress a girl? You abruptly yet gracefully landed on the floor, making your way out. You really wanted to be alone for a second. “Wait. No! Don’t go, Tiger” he said and a moment later you found yourself halting. He sounded… broken.

“She is never gonna like me. I mean-ugh!”. You weren't sure if you should scream because ‘she’ wasn’t you or because he was hurt. But you did value his happiness a bit more than yours, so when he picked you up and petted you, you let him.

“Sure-most girls just throw themselves at me but she is not like that. She is this angelic-like creature; she is radiating. The sun doesn’t stand a chance. Her smile… oh, Tiger… her smile” he trailed off. He had that stupid grin on his face.        He looked cute. You would never have guessed that he could fall so much in love. She was one of the luckiest people on earth to have him swept off his feet- and she didn’t even know. He caressed your small head with affection. Something that you could only gain while in this form.

“I wish I could ask her on a date. Even her name is perfect. Have you ever heard a name so… Y/N. I mean it’s flowing like water- Tiger? Tiger!?”. You had lost your balance and fell down to the floor. Then, before you could think what had just happened, three idiots walked in.

“Still in love with Tiger?” James teased him but petted you while giving you a sweet smile. You, however, could only think of his previous words. Did he really say your name? Like you were that ‘she’? “No, Prongs. That’s Y/N” Peter said, laughing and you knew that if you weren’t already on the floor you would have fallen.

“Man up and ask her out, Pads” Remus advised him. Bless your soul, Moony! You run out of their room and made a beeline to yours. You could really use a moment.  

Once you were safely inside your dorm, you changed back to your human self! Finally. You decided to skip tonight’s meeting and actually leave him a bit alone. He actually liked you. He liked you. You kept repeating that to yourself but it didn’t seem any less impressive. You thought that you must have done something really good to deserve it.  You were sitting in the Great Hall, eating breakfast and cheerfully participating in the conversation that your friends had started. Something about boys. Oh, you thought about boys, alright. One in particular.  

You noticed the group walking in and sitting down next to you. James, of course, sat next to his Lily-flower. You chuckled. You could tell that he was staring at you and you felt your heart skip several beats. With all the courage you had muster to find for a second, you turned towards him, smiled brightly. He was taken aback. Your smile only grew bigger.

“Good morning Sirius” you said kindly and very amused.

“H-Hi!” he stuttered out. You held back the urge to chuckle. The great Sirius Black. Everyone’s attention was on you. “I would love to go out with you” you said nonchalantly while you poured some milk into your coffee. You could hear the gasps coming from everyone. Literally everyone. You looked at him like nothing had happened. He was choking on his breath.

“How- Wha-Uh?” he breathed out completely bewildered.

“A little cat told me” you said, sending him a wink. His eyes almost popped out. You laughed. He was so dense.

“You’re an animagus!” he whispered-yelled, causing you to shush him.

“What can I say? For a dog, you are quite the cat person” you mocked him, continuing your breakfast, but not before you reached and pecked his cheek. Little did you know, he was left breathless, bright red and smiling like he had won the lottery. Because in his mind, he had.

[huilian]

House-full of Kittens

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon

Summary: Damian was missing. Where in the world is he?

A/N: Hi!!! Finals took me and didn't want to give me back. Then life happens, yada yada. Hope that I can write a lot during this holidays, because when the school start again, oh boy, it's going to be hell. Fun story, this actually happens to my next door neighbor. Not the missing part, but the kittens inside the house. The house empty, and it was raining season, and well, read the fic. Not to worry, no kittens were harmed in the making of this fic.

Damian was missing. They had just returned from patrol, and Dick was looking for a peaceful day. There were no charity event, no business meeting, and no truly heavy case for Batman. It was supposed to be a relaxing day. That hope vanished when he didn't find Damian anywhere in the Tower.

Dick's first thought was that Damian had been kidnapped. God knows it happened often enough. Yet his gut told him that that was not the case. The Tower's security was too tight for regular kidnappers to come, and Damian was trained enough for the 'irregular' kidnappers. Not to mention that Damian wouldn't have come quietly, regular or irregular kidnappers.

His second thought was that Talia had come for Damian. No, that was not the case either. Talia would gloat, or at least left a note telling him that she had Damian. It was something Talia would definitely do. But there was no message, no call. This was not Talia's doing.

So that left only one thing. Damian went out of his own volition. Now, Dick only need to figure out where Damian went.

He tried to track Damian's phone at first. That reminded him of when he was Damian age. He would throw a fit whenever Bruce tagged his phone. He gave Bruce a silent apology. It was very useful in figuring out the whereabouts of unruly children. Besides, every phone had a GPS now. He didn't have to tag Damian's phone. He just had to track it's GPS.

Damn. He should have known. Damian left his phone at the penthouse. He would have to bring the big guns.

He called Barbara.

"Babs? Are you busy?"

"I'm always busy, Boy Wonder." Dick could hear computer keys clicking. "What do you need?"

"Can you track Damian?"

"Damian?" Now the clicking stopped. "Isn't he with you?"

Dick shook his head. He knew Babs could see him, even thought the Penthouse was supposed to be a camera-free zone.

A sigh came from the phone. "What trouble has he gotten into this time?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me." Dick knew he was teasing. He also knew that he should be frantic. His baby brother was missing for goodness sake. But Damian could handle himself. Especially when all the Rouges were inside Arkham and there was no vehicle missing from the Bunker. Damian was probably on a quest that he was too ashamed to tell Dick.

Most likely something age-appropriate.

"Of course I could tell you, FBW. But what will you give me in return?" Barbara's voice was teasing. So Damian truly was nowhere dangerous. If he was, Babs won't be teasing.

That left him time to tease back. "Am I not enough?"

"Oh, stop that. Damian's on East 13th Street, house number 25. Any idea what he could be doing there?"

"Well, I'm going to find out. Thanks, Babs!"

"No problem, Boy Wonder. See you on patrol tonight?"

"'Course, Babs. Bye! I've got a baby brother to fetch!"

Dick put down the phone and started thinking. East 13th Street. What is Damian doing there?

***

Babs were right, as always. Dick could hear Damian's voice from inside the house. It was muffled enough that he couldn't make out the words, but Damian was speaking in a soothing tone. Like he was speaking to victims. Or small children.

Meow.

Or cats. That would make Damian speak in a soothing tone.

Dick sighed. So Damian left the Tower without notice to go see a cat. Of course he would. That was Damian down to the bone. Dick was pretty sure that he would have to stop Damian from smuggling this cat to the Penthouse.

A chorus of meows was heard from behind the door. Not this cat, then. These cats.

Dick opened the door, which was clearly broken into, and stepped into the house.

The house was abandoned. The floor was dirty and the windows looked like it hadn't been opened in quite some time. There was barely any furniture, just a closet that seemed to be nailed to the floor. In the middle of it was Damian, with a kitten on his hands and five others next to him.

Dick immediately wished he had a camera. The sight of Damian gently holding a kitten with the rest of the kittens snuggling up to him was something he wanted to cherish forever. And show to everyone who think that Damian is a mindless killer.

"Grayson," Damian said, completely unbothered but the fact that he was sitting in a filthy floor surrounded by kittens in a place he had obviously broken into. Oh, and let's not forget that he had just ran away.

Dick was at lost for words. He was not that bad as a child, was he?

"Damian," he began. he didn't know what to say, so the only thing that came was, "Are those kittens?"

"Tt. They are clearly kittens, Grayson. Is something wrong with your vision?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Dick let exasperation color his words. Now that he was pissed, he found that words came easily. "Hi, Damian. Are those kittens in a place you broke in into, when you left the Tower without notifying anyone where you're going?"

Damian's face turned sheepish. He cradled the kitten in his arms and turned towards Dick. "You were tired. I didn't wish to disturb you."

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. Damian was a kind and thoughtful child, really. He just didn't know how to express those kindness and thoughtfulness in the right way. Dick sighed. "When you left without notice, did it occur to you that it would disturb me more than you simply telling me where you want to go? This time you were only in an abandoned building playing with kittens. What if next time it was a kidnapping?"

Damian lowered his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry, Grayson. It didn't occur to me that this would be a distress to you."

Dick sighed again. This kid is going to be the death of him. "It's all right. Don't do it again, okay?"

Damian nodded.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Dick found himself asking.

Damian gestured to the kittens.

"Yeah, I know you're here for the kittens. Why are you here, specifically here, with the kittens?"

Damian shrugged. "I heard them when we were passing through on patrol. They were meowing incessantly. I gathered that they must be in some kind of distress. But we were chasing that robber, so I thought to come here after patrol."

Wait, patrol? Oh yeah, they did went through this area on patrol. Dick didn't hear anything then. Damian must always be listening for sounds of animal in distress for him to be able to hear this. Well, and the bragged genetics excellence.

"I was right. It appears that the mother gave birth here, and then was locked out of the place when she went out again. All the windows were closed and the door was locked. She didn't return here. The kittens were half-starved when I came."

Now Dick register the box full of supplies. Milk, kitten food, and blankets were just what was at the top of it. "Have you fed them?" Dick asked.

"Of course I've fed them. What do you think I am, an imbecile?"

"Okay, okay," Dick placated the boy. "Just checking." They fall into a companionable silence, each one content with simply savoring the moment.

After a while, Dick said, "You do know that the kittens will need a home, right? We can't keep them."

"Tt. Of course. You have made that quite clear."

They fall into silence again. This time, it was not so companionable. Dick could tell that something was bothering Damian, and it wasn't that he couldn't keep the kittens. It was deeper than that.

"We can give them to the shelter, or to Selina. The will be well cared for. But that's not what's bothering you, is it, Damian?"

"Who says I'm bothered?" Damian bit back.

"C'mon. You know I know you better than that. Do you want to talk about it?"

Damian shifted. He put down the kitten on his arms down to the floor, then started to wring his hands. Dick waited patiently. Damian couldn't be rushed. Not for something like this.

"The mother left," Damian said suddenly. "The kittens needed here, but she simply left."

Dick understood immediately. "Oh, Damian."

"I don't want your pity, Grayson," Damian snapped.

Dick sighed. Of course Damian didn't want his pity. Even though it was not pity. "All right. What do you want, then?"

"To get this kittens a home."

Right. Misdirection. Classic. Dick would humor him, though.

"We could do that. The shelter, or Selina?"

"Kyle would do."

"Okay, then. Let's go."

They worked together in preparing the kittens to give to Selina. Dick moved all the supplies out of the box, while Damian wrapped each kitten in a blanket. Then, they put all the kittens in the box. Damian lifted the box and they got on Dick's car.

"You know that there are still people who cares about you, right?" Dick asked on the drive to Selina's current apartment.

Damian was silent for a moment. He looked towards Dick, then back down towards the box full of kittens on his hands. "Yes, I do know that," he finally said. "You've made that quite clear."