#but I swear I caught on to crochet immediately

[sodacowboy]

I just think it’s ironic that crochet is like so fun and easy but it’s also the worst thing to have against your bare skin

[lagomoz]

Proseka headcanons

-as rui’s childhood friend, nene has extensive fire safety knowledge

-shizuku is adopted, hence why she looks so different from shiho. she was adopted shortly before the moon rabbit event and it contributed to her clinginess

-shiho forgets this fact sometimes. she’ll casually mention something like shizuku got all mom’s good genes so unfair and ichika has to be. um. shiho

-kanade is mildly nearsighted/myopic but spends so much time at her computer she hasn’t noticed

-emu is buff. she climbs multiple stories without breaking a sweat and is canonically part of the swimming, handball and rhythmic gymnastic clubs, you can’t tell me she doesn’t have some muscle

-saki helps out as a human notepad for tsukasa, reminding of him things he would otherwise forget within 5 minutes

-the vocaloids also help. at first it was unnerving to have hatsune miku be an extension of his psyche that knows his darkest secret (stole saki’s candy when he was 6) but now his phone has a more reliable catgirl themed reminder system

-you know that classic nightmare of leaving the house without pants? tsukasa has legitimately done that as a kid. he forgor. (saki will never let him live it down)

-in the kamiyama student council/hall monitor room, an has put up at sign saying “_ days since last kamishiro incident”

-the shinonome siblings both figured out the other one was gay before they figured it out about themselves

-airi’s great at trivia from her time as a variety show star. she still can’t beat minori at idol trivia, though

-ena keeps a diary with fort knox level security. try to read it and you’ll lose a finger

-saki learned to crochet from the old ladies in the hospital

-shiho’s most treasured phenny is a somewhat lumpy crocheted phenny holding a very lumpy crocheted bass guitar

-tsukasa snores. he falls asleep in 10 seconds and sounds like a dying lawnmower

-mizuki has learned a small bit of french from their sister and uses it exclusively to teach rui and an how to swear in french

-emu still celebrates her grandfather’s birthday, even if he’s not there to celebrate with her

-ena is allergic to dogs, the middle point to airi’s cat allergy and akito’s dog phobia

-rui has various small scars from his experiments over the years, but nobody ever believes the real causes (rocket launcher, robot bite, exploding balloon animal, etc.) so he just makes up a new cause every time someone asks

-mmj! has had repeated incidents of minori and airi’s little siblings walking into frame when streaming at their houses. shiho understands the concept of a livestream but has still been caught failing at creeping past like that one new broadcast of the guy crawling along the floor

-kanade has pots & eds, this one I have a reason for look at her symptoms. chronic exhaustion, heat and cold intolerance, comorbid sleep issues and depression, dizziness when standing up, fainting after standing up, very pale skin, family history of medical issues, pain at normal physical activities, exercise intolerance, vertigo at mild exertion, she just fucking dies during the entire baseball event, I could go on. she canonically gets pain in her hands from opening a jar girl that is not just being out of shape that is physical disability. this one I will go conspiracy board on listen to me I’m right

-kohane ate bugs as a kid. an is horrified, toya is confused, akito is impressed

-ena and airi got in trouble in middle school because they’d keep starting fist fights in defense of the others honor. if they saw the other in a fight they’d jump in guns blazing no hesitation no questions ask ready to throw the fuck down

-vbs!rin and len were given a skateboard by an and then promptly had the skateboard confiscated by meiko for property destruction

-haruka is horrible with slang. she asks the stream chat what poggers means and immediately uses it completely wrong, killing all viewers on impact

-minori is torn between thinking it’s cute and wanting to die

-toya has been banned from arcades before because he made them lose too much money/they suspected he was cheating

-ena brought kanade over for girls night and nearly scared akito half to death because he went down to get a late night snack and there was some Ghastly Creature looming in his kitchen

-kohane's parents stick out like a sore thumb when going to her live shows. it mortifies her that everyone on vivid street can recognize them as the only milquetoast middle aged couple dressed in normal clothes loudly going YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE that don't know the first thing about music

-minori knows basic programming. she mostly uses it for forums, blogs, html, other web design things usually related to idols as a hobby, but she's become the groups designated anti-shizuku tech support

-mafuyu has always been able to see ghosts but after adults figured she was just playing pretend as a kid so she shrugged and figured it was normal and not worth bringing up again

-honami has one of those massive extended families and somehow keeps track of them all. at any given time cousin #57 can crawl out of the woodwork and she remembers their new job, favorite food, past three romantic relationships and list of allergic reactions

-mizuki does doll customizing as a hobby. they prefer making human sized clothes, but it's fun to make them miniature too. they've introduced shizuku to it and she loves it, but doesn't have the heart to do anything that would hurt the doll (sawing limbs off, dunking them in boiling water, shoving wires in them, etc.)

[painsandconfusion]

Could you write a g/t [giant/tiny] gorey whump scene? Maybe something with crushed bones? Pweeeeaasseeeeeee?? 🥺

Of course!

.

Just a Pinch

(tw: giant/tiny, broken bones, crushed bones, dislocation, caught stealing)

Whumpee clamped a hand over their mouth, stifling the heavy wet breaths that shoved in and out of them in a desperate ache. They kept their back to the table leg, hoping the monster of a thing tromping around the room wouldn’t see them from this angle. 

They shifted minutely as the giant moved, tracking their footsteps and shuffling to the side.

“Where are you hiding, little pest?” rumbled the voice. It was so deep. It made sense it would be. Sound reverberates deeper in a larger throat. But. but it was so unnatural, grinding against Whumpee’s little ears.

The monster stopped making sound. Stopped walking. Stopped breathing. Stopped speaking. Whumpee trembled, holding completely still. Their lungs screamed for air they refused to give. They wouldn’t bring it in silently. They couldn’t. They’d be foun-

They sucked in a gasp of air only to scream it out again as a hand slapped down around the table leg, crushing them against it and shoving the rest of the air from their lungs.

Pain crochet down their spine and one of their legs, immediately turning to a searing wrongness as fingers curled and scrambled around them to trap them in completely. Whumpee managed to wrestle one arm free of the grip before it closed completely, but flailing to try to beat the hand away from them, but it did no good. The giant hoisted them up high regardless, twisting and turning them to look them over.

“Aha-! Not as quick as you think you are, huh~?”

Whumpee squirmed as agony traveled up their femur. “Yy-yyyou broke m-”

“Oh nooooo, did I hurt you, little thief~?” The grip tightened, forcing wheezing air from their chest yet again.

Whumpee’s one arm shoved and battered against a knuckle, but it didn’t give. Not even a bit.

“How about that, huh? You stopped screaming, so this is probably better, yeah?”

Whumpee gasped for air, breaths impossibly shallows in their panic and confines. Their head shook back and forth.

“No? Maybe a little more, then-”

Something popped. Something popped. Then something else snapped.

Their ribs exploded in pain, crushed under the giant’s grip and splintering toward their lungs. Tears streaked hot down their face and neck as they tried to squirm free, but it was useless. Pain ripped through them like a wildfire takes a desolate field of dry grass. Rapid, formless, and all-consuming in its hunger.

“There we go. That seems like enough.” Whumper gave them one more squeeze before dropping them down to the ground. “Stay out of the cupboards next time, pest.”

Whumpee wheezed and gasped for breath, trying to shove themself up to hands and knees. Their shoulder gave out, hanging wrong and strange.

“Get out of my kitchen,” the giant huffed, kicking them half across the floor in a flurry of tumbling hits.

Fear alone made it possible for them to shunt their broken and screaming body to the little crack in the wall, pulling themself inside it and into safety.

Then whumpee collapsed to the dusty floor within the wall, trembling so hard they could feel the bones’ edges grinding together. Their eyes blurred, falling out of focus as they heard the footsteps blessedly retreating to a different part of the house.

Someone would find them.

Someone would come by and find them.

They just had to wait.

tags: Sorry for the weird format, tumblr is a bitchhhhhhh-

@prisonerwhump

@whumpawink

@distinctlywhumpthing

@batfacedliar-yetagain

@suspicious-whumping-egg

@wormwriting

@villainsvictim

@throwawaywhumper

@wild-selenite-caffine

@whumpasaurus101

@thecitythatdoesntsleep

@whumpworld

@pinkieglitterheart

@whumpberry-cookie

@rainbows-and-whumperflies 

@shywhumpauthor

@cyberneticwhump

@bumpwhump

@treasureguardingdragon

@veyroswin

@whumping-seven-days-a-week

@whumpingisfun

@suffering-and-misery

@definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear

@yetanotheraltwhumpblog

@whump-queen

@a-whumped-tea

@whumpsday

@sonder35

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

[theauthorlives]

five times touched

(Hit me wit your best shot, I'm so excited)

@xshatteredreflectionsx

Five Times Drabbles (Accepting, but slow.)

five times touched: ( five times the receiver touched the sender (platonically or romantically or otherwise!) )

-

It had been a whirlwind of a day. It started out as normal, then he met one of the new inmates (luckily, not the man that looked like a douche), then they FOUGHT, and now he was stuck in solitary on an overexaggerated act.

"First riot in years... Tch." He kicked some dust with the scuff of his shoe. "What does he call the brawl last week? Some sorta dance-off?" Dropping onto the flimsy, wire-frame bed with an annoyed grumble, Yancy rubbed the bottom of his lip with his thumb. It didn't hurt that badly, but it would likely leave a mark. Somehow, that new face had a good aim, even if they looked like they could be knocked over by a moderate breeze. What was their deal anyway? Being all nice and friendly, and then throwing it back in his face when he tried giving them an out? What did they want? Did they even know what they wanted?

It was a good punch. Little sloppy, but surprisingly good.

With a heavy sigh, Yancy flopped back against the pillow that was only slightly softer than a rock. It would be fine. He could manage one night of this. Then, he would be allowed back to his cell where he could have some peace and quiet and move on from this mess.

(Oh, if only he knew what changes happened while he was gone!)

-

"- which had Jimmy the Pickle nearly throw me outta the fucking window. And lemme tell youse, if I was a man who wanted out of here I would've taken him up on that offer!"

Months in the same space had broken down the walls. It was the first time in a long time that Yancy felt this comfortable with anyone. It didn't matter what they spoke about, or what they were doing. Everything made sense with Morgan in a way Yancy wasn't sure he could understand.

The story of the morning's events had Morgan snort in that familiar silent laugh, which immediately turned to anguish as they realised they had been distracted long enough to fumble one of their loops on their latest project. Unfortunately for Yancy, they were sitting side-by-side on the bottom bunk, which left him prime target for them to roughly slam their shoulder into his arm.

Naturally, this prompted the greaser to let out a dramatic, wounded cry and slump to the side. "Aw fuck! I can't believe youse would try and take me down like this. Me! Youse's good and loyal cellie who ain't done nothing wrong ever!" Though the conversation was one-sided (for now. Yancy was still secretly learning sign), words weren't needed as Morgan instead pulled out a spare crochet needle and began playfully poking him in the arms with it. It was only when they stopped and they looked up expectantly for Yancy's apology did he see an opportunity:

"So does that mean my funeral crochet blanket's gonna be fucked up and sloppy?"

Sure, he got shoved out of the bunk, but it was so worth it.

-

Yancy sat at the tiny table in the cell, tongue peeking out between his lips as he gave his full attention to the page in front of him. The page went over the finger-spellings that the class were going to be tested on. They knew the signs, but it was the test to see if they could spell words, and so speed was needed just as much as accuracy.

This was how Morgan found him upon their return from their late shift in the kitchen. He was muttering letters to himself, interspersed with the occasional swear. Unlike before, when he had to do all this in private, it didn't matter that he had been caught in the act. If anything, it was a startling reminder that Yancy did all this for them. And he was still dedicated to the task.

They waved to catch his attention. Doing okay? (It was best to keep the sentences short and slow.)

"Yeah. I, uh, wait." He flipped the pages of the notebook until he found a stuck-in sheet with phrases. Hard. Work. "Uh... Hang on." Another pause as the book was turned to the original page. S-P-E-L-I-N-G.

Morgan chuckled and scooped up their own notebook and pen before sitting beside him. 'You forgot an 'L' just now.'

"I did? Shit. We's gonna lose marks if we don't sign fast and right."

'You don't need to spell that fast. Not yet. You have time. Want help?'

"Please."

Together, they worked through the list of words slowly, Yancy trying to get the knack of it. His hands worked slower than his mind - which already struggled with topics like spelling - so it was an uphill battle. But with that, there was a moment where he couldn't make the transition between letters right. Without thinking, Morgan reached over and gently placed their hand on his to help guide him through the letters. The idea that they could touch each other so casually was still a new experience for the pair that were still reeling over Yancy's confession a few mere weeks earlier. If Morgan was trying to help focus Yancy on the task, it only served to do the opposite as he instead lifted his hand so he could kiss the back of theirs.

Little surprise, then, that both forgot the purpose of the help as Yancy opted to spell L-O-V-E-U before gingerly pulling them in for a kiss.

(He never wanted to get used to this sensation.)

-

Another day, another loop. The calm before the storm on the Invincible. The Leads of the different departments were holding a meeting on what to do and how to deal with this.

(Morgan was not dealing with it well, thank you very much.)

"Hey, Captain. I brought youse the... Captain?" Yancy had been assigned to bring Morgan up their coffee. He'd even found one of their novelty mugs - Cartoony dolphins with one as a handle from some aqua resort Yancy couldn't pronounce. Instead, Morgan hurried right past him like he wasn't there. He knew that was the price to pay of another secret relationship... But it still stung.

He didn't belong on the bridge anyway. He was just a mechanic who only got in because the Captain had made a plea case for bringing someone along as part of a parole initiative. He didn't deserve to be here. The mug was left on the designated holder on the main panel so he could skulk out.

Later in the day, he had spent the whole of his morning and most the afternoon putting the final repairs on one of the mopeds that had received minor damage during transit. It was nothing terrible, but enough to need his full attention. He had tidied up and was getting ready to leave when Morgan walked in.

"Captain! I -"

They walked though him, literally bumping against his shoulder with enough force to knock him back a step. One of the crew walking behind turned to him. "What do you think you're doing? The Captain has more important things to deal with than someone like you."

Yancy froze, only nodding in agreement when the words sunk in. There and then, he made the decision to spent the evening in his own cabin once his shift was done.

-

It was terrible! The Gang were so sure they had figured out the best way to best the grumpy old men who wanted to turn a basketball court into a place where large benches would sit for the old men to sit on. But no! Some snooty snob decided that fun wasn't allowed! It was unfair! Yancy had decided that enough was enough! He was going to sort this out! He -

Something tapped his left cheek.

Then his right.

Then his left again.

Then both, for good measure.

Blearily, Yancy blinked awake to the blissful sight of a beaming Morgan over him.

You were muttering in your sleep.

"I would have punched some old men and went back to prison so we's could play basketball." The sentence was mumbled with such self-assuredness that Morgan snorted and patted his cheeks again. This time, they pressed inward until Yancy's lips puckered like a fish. It seemed to be enough to tug him fully back into the world of the waking, though it made speaking a little tricky.

"Wot timezit aneeweh?"

Too early, Morgan responded matter-of-factly once they pulled their hands back. It didn't answer the question, yet he was completely satisfied to know just that much.

"Good. I'm going back to sleep."

To punch old men?

"Nah. I'd rather dreams with youse in 'em. They's is way better. One time you revealed youse was a dragon. That was cool as shit. When's you gonna show me that here? Youse'd look fine as fuck with wings, just saying."

Both hands were back on his face this time, immediately blocking the wink that Morgan knew was coming. That only left them vulnerable to being snatched by the waist and pulled back down so they were in his embrace again. They didn't struggle, not when it meant they could nestle up against him until they felt comfortable.

"Hey, uh... Thanks. For waking me up. I mean. Didn't think I's ever spoken in my sleep like that before. Kinda prefer the not-sleep life where I knows youse loves me, so uh -!"

A hand quickly shot up to cover his mouth in a silent plea of shut up and go back to sleep.

[berryflops]

" history " | part 6

masterlist | word count: 1,671 | warnings: angst, a whole load of angst, some cute fluff, mentions of weed, swearing

authors note: fair warning, the series will be based off scenes in the show with elements of the books. every single scene will come from the show unless it is a made-up flashback, and if something is mentioned that you don't understand please let me know, so i can let you know if it was a mistake or if it was in the book :)

“Oh my god, Belly!” I fell back on her bed, a pillow smothering my face.

Belly laughed, jumping on the bed and snatching the pillow from me. I pouted, shifting to my side and looking up at her.

“You seem to really like him.” My voice was melodic as I teased my best friend. I giggled when she mimicked a cartoon character in love, clasping her hands together while she sighed dramatically.

Her expression turned mischievous. “And you and Jere, huh?” I made a horrified expression.

“Isabel Conklin! Jeremiah Fisher and I have unresolved conflict that we have no idea how to get past! I do not appreciate you turning our situation into a love story!” Belly jumped on me, fingers tickling my stomach immediately. I shrieked, wrestling her off.

“You’re gonna ruin your outfit!” I jumped off the bed, running away into Susannah’s room. “Susannah! Did Belly tell you she has a date!” I called, words echoing when Susannah looked up from her spot in the armchair. She squealed and clapped her hands. Belly trailed into the room, grinning shyly.

Susannah immediately pulled Belly into the bathroom, most likely to find a shade of lipstick or some mascara. I’d applied some blush, but that was all she’d let me do.

I fell back on Susannah’s bed, watching Belly walk back in with Susannah. My best friend stood in front of the mirror and after Susannah had fallen back into her armchair, she started applying lipstick.

Belly had worn a crochet crop top, adorned with little daisies. She’d picked out a simple pair of jean shorts, and her hair was flowing down her back. She looked gorgeous, in my opinion.

“You look really cute.” Susannah remarked, smiling at Belly. Belly rolled her eyes, putting the lipstick away. “You are gonna have so much fun tonight.”

Belly tucked away a strand of hair. “We’re just going to see a movie.” She said shyly. Laurel walked in a few moments later.

“You look nice, hon.” She smiled at Belly before looking down at me. “And you look like a stay at home sixteen year old.” I rolled over, standing up grudgingly.

“That I am, Laur. You got my job description right!” I declared, holding my arms up. Susannah giggled, looking towards Belly. “Although I swear I’ll dress up for the book party.”

“I can’t believe crop tops are back.” She turned towards Laurel and the two of them fell into old conversation. “Remember how I thought I was such hot shit in that baby tee I wore freshman year?” Belly handed Susannah back her lipstick.

“That’s because you probably were.” I demanded indignantly. Susannah and Laurel smiled.

“Have fun tonight.” Susannah looked over at Belly as she picked up her phone. I followed Belly as she walked towards the door.

Laurel faced Belly and I took that as my cue to leave. “I’ll see you downstairs!” I smirked at Belly, twirling as I skipped down the stairs. I walked into the living room to see the boys with controllers in hand, concentrating on their video games.

“Hey, Tate. How was work?” I leaned on the top of the couch.

Tate focused on his game, talking to the boys about something I hadn’t bothered picking up over the years. “Good, good. Sorry I didn’t see you.” He muttered, looking between the screen and the controller. Belly walked up behind me a moment later and I turned, gasping theatrically to join her side.

She took a deep breath. “See you guys later!”

Jeremiah was the first to look at her, and he took a moment. His breath caught while he watched and threw his controller immediately. “Damn,” he turned around the couch, rushing towards Belly. I backed away, feeling awkwardly uncomfortable.

“Are you kidding me!” Steven sighed. “Yeah, no, fine! Just abandon the game completely, Jere!” I smiled.

“You…look…hot.” Jeremiah twirled Belly around, pausing between each his words. Belly giggled, and I bit my lip hesitantly.

Steven finally turned around. “Hey, hey, hey. Stop flirting with my sister.” Always the overprotective one. Tate finally turned too, whistling when Belly caught his eye.

“Watch it, T. That’s my best friend.” I warned playfully. Tate rolled his eyes, facing the game again.

“You look good, Bells.” He called over his shoulder.

Belly groaned. “Shut up, Steven. You too, Sam.” I grinned.

“No you shut up!” Steven bit back. “You look good, though.” He looked back, stating it as an afterthought.

Jere chuckled at his friends. “You driving with us, or are you meeting us there.” I bounced behind Belly, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Belly Button has a date!” I smirked, pulling away from her slowly. Jere imitated shock.

“I’m going to the drive in.” She smiled at Jere, shooting me a dirty look.

Jeremiah crossed his arms. “With who?” Belly’s phone chimed. Conrad finally looked back at Belly, straying his attention from the game. Steven was clearly pissed that his friends paid more attention to his sister than their game.

“Cam Cameron!” I sung, causing Jere to shoot Belly a look.

Belly looked at her phone and said bye, walking towards the mirror and taking one final look at herself before walking away.

“Jere, your clothes are in your closet. I took mine back.” I whispered in his ear as I passed, knowing Tate would screw Jeremiah over if he heard what I’d just said.

I floated towards the back door, racing into my house and running up the stairs. I passed Angela’s room to see my dad reading her a story, probably Cinderella.

My dad and I had a decent relationship. After mom, we had the same way of coping, so we helped distract each other. I took on more of a family helping role, and so did he, and in some ways we balanced it out. It distracted us both.

But my priority at the moment was getting ready for Laurel’s book party, and nothing was going to stop me from that.

I walked into the bookstore, scanning it briefly before laying eyes on Steven, Tate, Conrad, and Jeremiah. I smiled as I weaved through all the people Susannah had invited, collapsing onto Jeremiah and Steven.

“Ew, get off! I’m not cheating on Shay with your filthy ass!” I gasped, mocking offense as I moved to squeeze in between the two. I felt Jeremiah’s eyes on me, and when I looked up, my heart stopped. His eyes were so clear, so open, so blue. I’d never seen eyes like Jeremiah Fisher’s.

“You look good.” He muttered, looking over my head towards Steven. I let myself have a small smile before realizing who I was next to.

“You know, this shit is so boring. Can we go somewhere?” Conrad turned his head to face us. Jeremiah chuckled.

“Yeah, where?” Steven looked up from his phone.

“We could go into town, I don’t know, buy some weed from that guy with the Rainbow Dash tattoo.” Jeremiah suggested.

“He got arrested last summer.” I piped up, remembering the chaos that had spread throughout the Cousins teens. Nicole had told me about it.

Jeremiah groaned, head falling back. “Oh shit, really?” Steven chuckled.

“Yeah, I remember.” He looked at us. “You know, we could go to the drive in.” 

I sat up. “Nah uh. Belly would fuck you guys up if she saw you.” 

Tate laughed. “Dude, gross, no. I don’t wanna watch Belly hooking up with some kid in the back of a mini van.” Jeremiah playfully reatched.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, because none of you thought of doing that yourselves.” Steven was on high alert at my comment.

“None of y’all get to touch my sister.” He pointed around, causing Tate to hold his hands up.

Conrad looked towards us and spoke up again. “Yo actually,” he thought about it for a moment. “Let’s go to the drive-in.” I sighed, standing up.

“No, no way. You guys aren’t crashing Belly’s date.” I waved my hands around. Jeremiah laughed.

“Sammy, it’s fine.” A red hot fire blazed, crawling up my throat.

“Jeremiah Fisher. If we all had crashed your first time with whatever that girls name was, you would have fucked us all up. So you’re gonna leave Belly in peace, or I swear to God all four of you are gonna be in a living hell tomorrow.” I spit, watching Jeremiah’s face turn white. Whatever good terms we’d been on had been destroyed, and my words had gone to waste either way.

Conrad got up and tossed Steven the keys. They lugged up Tate and told Jeremiah they’d meet him by the car. I bit the inside of my cheek, storming out without thinking.

I’d walked a couple feet before I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and stepped back, faced with Jeremiah Fisher. He’d always worn his emotions on his sleeve, and they were evident right now. His eyes weren’t sturdy like they had been, they looked soft, broken. Like he’d lost his sense of direction.

“You told me you’d never tell them.” He whispered, voice cracking. “I trusted you because you said you would never tell anyone, and you told them!” I stepped back, anger coursing through my veins.

“I trusted you before too, Jeremiah. And look where that got us.” My words were harsh, and I regretted them immediately, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Jeremiah’s face fell and he stepped back, letting go off my shoulder.

“I only said those things to protect you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I would never hurt you, Sam.” He pleaded, stopping me from continuing on my way.

“Well you did. And it’s too late, Fisher.” My voice was steel, and I hated the way I spoke, hated the words I said. “Whatever we had before? It’s gone.”

Before I turned and left, I saw a single tear fall down his cheek, and it took all the strength I had to push away my feelings and finally walk away.

[ashasmonsters]

The Skateboarder

Female reader x Female orc (Morn)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: brief alcohol, stupid memes

Words: 9k

Morn reached between the legs of some intertwined partygoers, retrieved a beer from the strategically placed cooler, then opened it on the strike plate of the living room door. Some of it foamed out and fell on the carpet with the bottle cap but she didn't seem to care. The owners of the sorority house didn't care either.

"...so yeah, she said I stank and got up and left." Morn finished her tale of an attempted one-night stand.

"She didn't even touch you yet?" You asked, leaning in close so she could hear you over the thumping music. As was usual for parties like these, you and Morn had carved out a corner where you could be ignored by everyone else and gossip.

"Well, yeah, but not below the belt. That's what pissed me off. She was all over me all night and as soon as I say I want her to go down on me, she insults me and leaves."

"I mean..." you grinned, unable to resist, "did you stink down there, though?"

Morn punched your shoulder and chuckled.

"Fuck off, it's not like roses and daffodils are the norm. You know, it's like I always say..." It was Morn's turn to grin mischievously.

"Don't fucking say it. I swear to God, Morn. I'm going to laugh really hard and everyone's going to look at me weird. " You pleaded. You knew what would come next; Morn's favorite turn of phrase that she managed to use more often than one would think.

"—like I always say, good pussy smells like the heat coming out of the PS4."

You were true to your word. As you caught your breath between peals of laughter, a few partygoers did in fact stare at you. Despite your prior protests, the stares didn't bother you that much. Here in Morn's gossip corner, all that mattered was whiling the time away until the other half of your group was ready to leave. Dera's whereabouts were unknown but Lash was visible in the corner of the room.

"Looks like Lash's plan is all coming together." You noted. Morn turned to look as well; she was aggressively making out with an Elf boy. He licked her tusks. You grimaced.

"Goddamn. When Lash wants something she gets it."

"She mentioned that guy... what, like, yesterday?" You asked. "From staring at him across the classroom to heavy petting in less than twenty-four hours. That's a new record."

"Makes me feel like I'm not even the same species," Morn complained, finally turning away from Lash's public display of affection. "I know Orc boldness is a stereotype but it's not one I'd mind living up to."

"That's not Orc boldness, that's Lash boldness," you chortled. "Don't be down on yourself for not having it. Besides, she's not looking for a one-night deal; if that Elf doesn't call her back tomorrow she's gonna have her week ruined."

"I guess that's true..." Morn sighed.

"Morn." You firmly squeezed her shoulder and stared at her. "I love Lash to death, but you've never called me at three in the morning crying over the end of a week-and-a-half-long relationship. It's okay to not be dating a new person all the time."

"Yeah, I know." She finished her beer and smiled a bit.

"Besides, if you were hunting down an object of desire every time we were at a party, I'd have no one to chill with. Morn's Gossip Corner is the only thing getting me out of the dorm on Friday nights."

"I'm glad to be of service." She dramatically saluted. "You're right, though. I guess it's just the party atmosphere that makes me forget sleeping around and dating have drawbacks."

"Definitely the party vibe getting to you," you affirmed. "Speaking of sleeping around, though... where's Dera?"

"If I had to guess, upstairs. Text her." Morn suggested.

You pulled out your phone and opened the group chat, aptly titled "THA HOOLIGANZ 👩‍💻👩‍✈️👩‍⚕️🕵️‍♀️" and sent a message:

You: dera where tf are u, its almost been an hour

Almost immediately the indicator that Dera was typing popped up, followed by her reply:

Dera: upstairs. firbolg football player. huge 🍆

"Oh, god." You gagged. Morn pulled out her phone in response to see the cause, then had a similar reaction. She started tapping away at her phone's keyboard.

Morn: damn, dera, chill. we just wanted to make sure you were ok.

The typing indicator preceded yet another reply from Dera.

Dera: lol ok mom

"She's got an attitude tonight, sheesh." Morn shook her head and put her phone away.

"I think tonight an early exit might be a good idea. Dera and Lash seem pretty occupied," you said. You couldn't find Lash or her Elven paramour in the room anymore.

"I think you're right. Text the group and tell 'em we're leaving."

You nodded and did so, receiving 👍 responses from both Dera and Lash after a short pause.

"Let's go." You got up from your place on the sunken-in couch and helped Morn up. The two of you navigated through the fire code-violating sorority house to the front door, where you met the cool night air and the odor of cigarettes. Morn's skateboard was next to yours, propped against the thick trunk of a long-dead tree.

"I don't wanna go back to the dorms yet. It's not that late," Morn said, checking her watch.

"Pizza?" You suggested.

"Pizza."

Before long you were both skating into the night. The entire university town was built into the side of a mountain with the greek life houses at the top, making it a breeze to fashionably exit parties like this one. There were a few drunken revelers to dodge on the way down, but once you cleared the sororities and fraternities it was smooth skating. The incandescent streetlights flew past as century-old houses gave way to newer corner stores and parks. Before long, you and Morn were skating through the thick of the city on a course set for Main Street.

The pleasant sound of plastic wheels on stamped concrete was soon married with the aroma of cheap, indulgent pizza. You wouldn't have needed any senses other than smell to know you arrived at your destination: "Get Stuffed," the type of place where a slice was a dollar and you could write on the walls. As was usual for the time when Friday became Saturday, it was packed with the university crowd; too packed to even sit inside.

You and Morn shimmied to the counter and ordered your usuals. Fortunately, Get Stuffed had nailed speedy service and it was only a few short moments before you were on your way out with greasy pizza on flimsy paper plates. You set your skateboards on the curb and sat on them, side-by-side.

"Thanks for fleeing with me," Morn said, folding her slice of pizza and tucking her loose black curls behind her ear.

"Anytime, Morn." You mimicked her pizza fold before noticing something about the beanie she wore. It was oddly familiar, so you delayed your first bite. "Hey, where's that beanie from?" Morn looked at you, chewing.

"This thing?" She tugged at the chunky burgundy yarn. "You should know."

"I should know?" You mused, finally chewing on your first bite of pizza. It was just as greasy and gratifying as you expected it to be. Then, as realization dawned on you, it almost fell out of your mouth. "You kept that thing for this long?!"

"Of course. It's a good beanie. It's lasted... what, since second grade?" She smirked. "It's one of the best birthday gifts I've gotten. Thanks, by the way."

"Thank you for holding onto it," you countered. "The memories... wow."

"That was the birthday party where we had a sleepover afterward. We played tag, and—"

"Oh, no," you moaned, remembering.

"...you ran so hard that you threw up." Morn giggled. Your cheeks still burned at the vivid memory. You almost forgot crocheting Morn's beanie, but you never forget throwing up at someone's birthday party.

"It's crazy we've been friends for so long." You gracefully changed the subject and started working on your pizza slice in earnest.

"It's not that crazy. You've always been there for me."

"I mean... I try..." you were hiding your blush, feeling warm as Morn readied to shower you with compliments.

"Like the time Chrissie Becker rejected my invitation to prom. You started crying when I started crying, and I hadn't even told you what happened yet." Morn giggled warmly. "Or when our families went camping together and you let me share your sleeping bag when I forgot mine."

"I couldn't just let you sleep on the ground!" you sheepishly defended yourself against the flattery.

"Even though you knew I kicked in my sleep." Morn looked up from her plate and smiled at you, her tusks glinting under the streetlights.

"You're more important to me than my shins," you said quietly.

"Hah!" Morn laughed heartily, bumping her skateboard into yours and wrapping an arm around you. "You're more important to me than my shins."

In Morn's embrace there on the sidewalk, you melted. She had such a way of effortlessly making you feel safe and loved. She had been there for you as well several times and was damn good at it. You enjoyed the feeling so much that you just sat there quietly until she got a little worried.

"Hey, did I tease you too much?" Her wry grin had been replaced with a slight frown and sympathetic brow.

"No, no..." you reassured her, savoring the dreamy feeling. "It's all good. I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad we're... friends," you stumbled a bit over the last word.

"Me too," she gave your shoulder a little squeeze.

You both finished your pizza in silence, enjoying each others' side and the ambiance of the city street. After a moment you both tossed the greasy plates into a trash can and skateboarded back to the dorms. The courtyard was where your paths diverged, and after bidding one another goodnight and farewell, you parted. You shared your bed that night with a familiar feeling. Embarrassment, shame, and maybe even guilt. All for the way your heart skipped a beat when she put an arm around you, or the unstoppable smile when she recounted her memories of you. You weren't super familiar with love, at least not in the way Lash and Dera were, but the way Morn made you feel in recent months was more than simple friendship. You agonized over the thought that she wouldn't return those feelings. It was a miracle you managed to sleep at all.

Saturday morning arrived, and with it, a text. You groggily pulled your phone into bed with you to read it after rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It was from THA HOOLIGANZ.

Dera: hey sorry about my sass last nite. i figured y'all left early and that's cool, i was kinda doing my own thing anyway

Lash: LOL sameeee. anyway, does anyone want to meet up for coffee or something? i’d rather be hungover around you guys than my parents 😭

You considered the offer; it would be nice to actually see Lash and Dera after missing them last night. Your moment on the curb with Morn still bothered you, and a distraction from that would be nice.

You: im down, where u wanna go

Dera: u know that cute little cafe on that corner? main street i think?? the one thats literally 100% pink???

Morn: you're thinking of tokidoki cafe! i'm down to go, that’s my spot!

You sighed. This outing wouldn't be very good for distracting you from Morn if Morn was seated across from you.

Dera: thats the one. lets gooooooo

Lash: yes. literally right now. start running

Morn: thanks, but I think I'll skate there. see y'all in a bit

You: same

The morning air was crisp and cool in the way spring mornings always were. It was a shame Lash and Dera were too busy downing aspirin and chugging water to truly enjoy it. Your skateboard served you well as a means of transport on mornings like this; you and your friends were the rare few students who didn't usually sleep in on Saturdays, so you enjoyed the empty sidewalks. The soft plastic wheels gripped the concrete well enough to accommodate any street corners.

The cafe was 100% pink, as promised. The sweet, pillowy smell of crepes mingled with the robust aroma of coffee and met you as you hopped off your skateboard. The tiny size of the place made it easy to tell you were the first to arrive. You ordered the latte-crepe combo that took up the most space on the menu and sat while you waited. You were idly scrolling through your phone when you heard the rhythmic thumping of a skateboard wheels on slabs of sidewalk.

She looked painfully good as she stepped through the cafe's front door. The morning sun made her long black hair golden around the edges and she still wore that damn beanie. Her tusks poked out from her smiling lips when her eyes met yours. Illuminated by sunbeams, her well-toned arm showed every muscle and vein as she gripped her skateboard by the trucks to carry it in.

"Good morning!" she beamed at you. The employee behind the counter smiled at her knowingly.

"The usual, Morn?" he asked.

"Yep!" She quickly answered before sitting across from you, the pins on her denim jacket jingling. "You got here quickly."

"Yeah..." you answered weakly, your conversational skills still recovering from the way Morn held you last night.

"You weren't drinking last night, were you? You alright?" Of course, Morn immediately picked up that something was the matter. It would be stranger if she didn't.

"I'm fine. Where are Lash and Dera?" You deflected. As if on cue, your phone buzzed. THA HOOLIGANZ chimed in.

Lash: lol srry, throwing up. cant make it

Dera: yeah same.

"Unbelievable. Those girls can't seem to show up anywhere lately." Morn had a slightly disapproving tone. She tapped away on her phone.

Morn: this is going on your attendance sheet

Lash: see u in detention, dera

Dera: enjoy your crepes you two!

You chuckled at the exchange.

"That's more like it. I like when you smile." Morn chimed in. "Do more of that."

The waiter saved you from needing to respond by stopping at your table with your orders. A steaming, folded crepe landed before you covered in a sauce just as pink as the rest of the cafe. A warm latte arrived with it and you wrapped your hands around the warm mug. It soothed you a little.

"Morn..." you began, not quite sure what you were going to say. Was this it? Were you going to lay your feelings on the table right here, right now?

"What is it? You can tell me anything." Morn leaned in over the table. "I can tell something's been bothering you lately."

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You didn't even know how to begin; should you preface it with an apology? Some sort of explanation or disclaimer?

"I don't even know if I can tell you. Like, if I can get the words out," you said before sipping your latte. You savored the taste, hoping the espresso would ground you somehow. At the very least you wouldn't be expected to talk with your mouth full.

"There's no rush. I just... I want to help. I've known you long enough that I'm sure there's something I can do." Morn hadn't even touched her crepe yet.

"Let's just, um, eat." You answered.

"Good idea. I'm sure you'll feel like yourself once you've eaten and the coffee starts kicking in." Morn nodded to herself, cutting open her fruit-filled crepe. You similarly started to work on yours. The two of you ate in silence and, for a moment, you did feel better. Fully focusing on the aromas, flavors, and textures of your breakfast stilled your trembling hands. The slightest bit of confidence grew within you halfway through the meal.

"I... um..." the words slowly formed in your mouth. Morn paused, setting down her fork and knife and looking at you intently. "I fell in love. With someone I don't think I should be in love with."

Morn listened but said nothing. She was thinking.

"How do you know it's love?"

"What?" you asked.

"How do you know it's not just a crush? Or, you know, lust?" Morn inquired. You considered the question carefully. Memories of platonic cuddles, impromptu sleepovers, and late-night conversations with Morn came to mind.

"It's love because it's lasted way longer than any crush. I trust this person, and they trust me. I'm not like Lash, pining for the new guy from across the classroom; I know this person really well."

"I see." She paused again. "Why would it be bad to love them? Wouldn't a good history make a romantic relationship easier?"

"Only if they felt the same way..." you sighed and nestled your head in your elbows.

"Ah, right..." Morn looked sheepish. "Well, personally—and I do mean personally, so it might not apply to them—if I had a long-time friend that I had feelings for, I would just tell them."

"Really?" Your eyes widened.

"I mean, yeah. If I and this person had such a long history of trust, then I would trust them to still be friends with me afterward if they didn't feel the same way. I'm sure it would be awkward for a while, but I really don't think it would be, you know... destructive or anything."

More memories came to you. More times where you felt completely open and vulnerable with Morn, and when she did with you. Times when you comforted each other and shared secrets under blanket forts and playground swings and gymnasium bleachers. Words formed inside your mouth, desperate to make themselves known to the world. Perhaps now would become another one of these memories. You'd look back on it in the future and remember the smell of pink crepes in the pink cafe.

"Morn... I have these feelings for you. I'm talking about you."

You fought the urge to cover your mouth, and you didn't stutter or stammer in the slightest. Though working up the courage was difficult, letting the words go was one of the easiest things you had ever done. Morn didn't react much; an eyebrow rose slowly as she finished chewing. The silence was agonizing.

"I'm happy you trust me enough to share that with me," Morn said calmly. You wanted to shout that's all?! but held your tongue. She took a sip of her latte, clearly in no rush to say more.

"So..." you began, well and truly lost. All your effort had gone into mustering courage and now you had nothing left. Even your anxiety and worry had gone, and you were strangely content, though eager, to hear Morn speak.

"So..." Morn parroted, "does that mean you want to... you know, date me? Like, romantic dates, not besties dates. Kissing dates."

Again, your impulses screamed duh!

"Um, yeah..." you said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. "I'd like that, but... only if you'd like that too."

She sipped her latte again, still calm.

"You know, over the years, I've imagined what we would be like if we were romantic with each other. Like, girlfriend-girlfriends. How could I not? We've known each other for so long."

You nodded, bidding her speak more.

"I never knew you wanted that. I can't imagine how you felt; I could tell something was wrong but I couldn't figure out what." Morn set the mug and her cutlery down, intentionally and warmly looking you in the eye. "I think...

You didn't even breathe.

"I think we should give it a shot." Morn smiled widely. "Does that sound good to you?"

"Yes, yes it does," you finally drew breath. If Morn was feeling a similar tumult of emotions that you were, she was hiding it considerably well. Morn wiped her lips and tusks with a napkin and got up from the table.

"Well, I've got to visit mom and pops tonight, but we've still got Sunday tomorrow. How about we have our first real date then?"

"Uh, sure!" You sat there, dumbfounded. Was it really going to be this easy?

"Cool. I'll let you pick where we go, just like most of our... non-date hangouts," she said, turning to the cashier. She gestured widely to the table. "Put it all on my tab."

"You have a crepe tab?"

Morn chuckled. Making her way to the door, the sunlight caught her hair and skin deliciously.

"I'm a regular. Anyway," she grabbed her skateboard, "see you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow." You answered. She gave you one last toothy grin and stepped out before gliding out of sight, disappearing past the edge of the window. You rested your chin in your hands and sighed like a lovestruck teenager in a coming-of-age movie. Before long, your window-gazing session was interrupted by an employee.

"All done, ma'am?" he asked politely.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, I was spacing out."

"No, it's all good. Thanks for coming by, and if you don't mind me saying..." he looked somewhat pensive.

"What?"

"Don't tell Morn I said this since she's proven that she could snap me in half like a twig, but... speaking as the crepe guy she visits several times a week, I think she's a good match for you."

"But you've never met me before. Maybe once or twice, but—"

"She's told me all about you. All good things, don't worry. It's less about you and more about how Morn talks about you. She gushes when she mentions you, seriously." He paused awkwardly then started to clean up the table. "I've said too much."

"No, thank you," you said. "It's good to know."

"Glad I could help. Anyway... um, thanks for coming in." He waved at you as you got up and left. You nodded and made your exit.

Back at your dorm, you couldn't decide if you wanted to pace or lay in bed and kick your legs. You had so much energy inside you, trapped. It was equally nervous and thrilling. You wondered how Morn kept herself so well composed; something in the back of your mind nagged at you, wondering if it was because she didn't really feel that strongly for you. Enough, you thought to yourself. Morn was your best friend for almost as long as you could remember. She wouldn't toy with you like that. Hell, she explained her entire thought process on the topic before you even confessed to her.

You decided to pace to distract yourself. Those thoughts weren't helpful. Right now you had to choose a place for your first officially non-platonic date. It was never this hard to pick a place to hang out with Morn before...

Then, an idea. It sprung into your mind out of nowhere, and it just felt right. You made sure that the place was open on Sunday, checked the ticket prices... it was perfect. You readied your phone to text Morn the details... but Lash had already sent you a private message. You opened the notification.

Lash: yo how did crepes go?? sorry i no-showed

Your brow furrowed a bit. Lash's random interest was a bit strange, even more so since she was hungover. A dehydrated, vomiting Lash was bedridden for a good half-day in your experience.

You: the cafe was cool! the crepes were good

Unsure if you should be forthcoming about your new development with Morn, you figured they could find out tomorrow once your first "real date" was underway. A change like that would likely be a big deal in your friend group, so a text message wouldn't do the announcement justice anyway.

Lash: how's Morn?

You: shes fine? did something happen??

Lash: no lol, just wondering lol

Two "lol" in one text? You wanted to indulge your suspicions and investigate further, but you decided to leave it at that. You had a date to arrange.

You: still at your parents' place?

Morn: yeah, I'll be back in town tomorrow though

You: k, cool. does meeting at the aviary at 2pm work?

Morn: yeah definitely! what made you pick the aviary?

You: idk if you remember, it was so long ago, but it was the first school field trip we went on as friends

There was a pause as Morn's typing bubble hovered on your screen.

Morn: 😭OMG YOURE SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY😭

Morn: i cant wait to see you tomorrow!!!

You: me too 💕

Your phone landed on your bed with a thump and that nervous energy returned with a vengeance. More pacing, more leg-kicking, even some giggles. This situation felt both extremely real and like a scene from a movie; you never imagined this sort of thing happened in real life, especially in yours. Against all previous expectations, things were going fine. It was thrilling, scary, and made your heart race, but it was going fine. The homework you had to do took a back seat to your excited daydreaming and scheming about tomorrow. You thought about how you would greet her, how you would hug, if and how you would go for a kiss, walking while holding her hand... predictably, sleeping that night was incredibly difficult.

In the morning, you finally executed the plans you fantasized about prior. You decided to err on the side of being overdressed, picking an outfit that wasn't formal but still a little more special than what you would usually wear. You showered, brushed your teeth, swished some mouthwash, and even flossed! Breath mints, a small assortment of Morn's favorite snacks, and an extra water bottle found their way into your bag. If you were going to overthink, then you would take advantage and be overprepared as well. Squeaky clean, dressed to impress, and with a heftier bag than usual, you skateboarded down to the aviary intent on arriving ten minutes early.

The journey was uneventful save for your steadily increasing heart rate. By the time you were waiting for her by the entrance gate, you were fully flustered. You stood still with a kind smile on your face, but anything more complex would have been asking too much of you. The mental rehearsal in your mind's eye ran over and over again: smile, say hi, hug. Smile, say hi, hug. These were all things you had done with Morn before, but with platonic intent instead of this newfound "why not?" intimacy. With how calm and composed Morn had appeared throughout this whole process, you felt as if you were at a disadvantage somehow. You worried in a juvenile sort of way that she was too cool for you.

The way she pulled up to the aviary in her car didn't help that worry at all. Her ride, an old, angular, black thing that roared like a beast, was her pride and joy. She had practically built the thing herself with the number of parts she swapped out of it. It was fully manual and she had the skills to maneuver it gracefully into the parking space. Out from it stepped your actual, honest-to-god, bonafide date.

She smiled at you and your brain melted. You held up a hand in a sort of mellow wave, offering a faint grin. By the time she closed the distance, your simple three-step plan was gone with the wind. Luckily she also decided that greeting with a hug was the correct choice and you were in her embrace quickly. You paused before realizing you should probably return the gesture and wrap your arms around her as well.

"It's so good to see you! You look great," she said, pulling away and looking you over.

"You too..." you breathed, taking your own chance to get a proper look. Her outfit was just as sleek and dark as her car: a pair of black jeans with accompanying boots, a matching leather jacket, and of course, that classic burgundy beanie to top it off.

"Shall we?" She extended a green, competent hand to you. She wasn't wearing her driving gloves today, which was good for your composure; otherwise, you would have well and truly swooned. You accepted her grasp and she gave your hand a firm squeeze before strolling with you to the ticket booth. Thanks to your student IDs, you got in with discounted admission.

The aviary itself was fairly large, and on this particular Sunday, you and Morn practically had the place to yourselves. Other than the idle chatter of a few other scattered visitors, there was only the sound of wind in the leaves and bird calls. The two of you meandered between the exhibits, chatting but not about much in particular. Instead, you were simply content to enjoy each other's company and look at the birds. The birds liked looking at you, too; at one point a pair of free-roaming peacocks followed you and Morn around the aviary.

"Looks like it's a double date," Morn quipped, gesturing to the two plumy birds. They were both mostly brown and lacking the massive, fan-shaped tails.

"They're a pair of girls too. Male peacocks are the ones with the crazy feathers," you noted.

"It's almost like having Lash and Dera tagging along." Morn chuckled. "In fact, if they keep failing to show up these birds would make good replacements."

You looked at the two peacocks, who had started preening each other's feathers.

"Do you think they're besties or girlfriends?" You playfully asked. "That's some pretty intense preening."

"Maybe they're both, like us." Morn wrapped an arm around you and offered you her shoulder. You melted again. "If you had feathers, I'd be preening you right now."

"If I knew how to return that compliment, I would." You said, deliciously rattled by her closeness and warmth.

"I have an idea... if you're cool with it." Morn kept holding you close, turning to make eye contact with you. You faced her and realized how close you were. Trapped in her gaze, you couldn't speak. You gave a faint nod.

The first thing you felt was her tusks on your cheeks. They met the corners of your mouth, pressing gently just before her lips met yours. In reality, the kiss was a quick peck. In your mind, time froze. You could no longer hear the birds calling or wind blowing, only the sound of your heart beating like a drum and a feeling like fire in your chest. Morn pulled away from the kiss with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry if my tusks poked you. I'm still getting the hang of that."

"Hey, practice makes perfect, right?" you let slip with a suaveness that surprised even you. Morn's eyes widened in surprise before she let out a hearty laugh.

"That's the spirit!" She cheered, squeezing you hard. "I'm gonna hold you to it, so be aware: I'm gonna kiss you a bunch more before we're out of here."

"That's fine by me." You couldn't do anything else but giggle. Morn gave you another peck immediately after, angling her head a bit so her tusks didn't have such a lead on her lips. Your first kiss with Morn was perfect as far as you were concerned, but this second one was a bit more graceful.

"Better?" she asked.

"Better."

Your stroll through the aviary continued in this fashion: chatting about this and that, generally gushing about each other and punctuated by more quick kisses. It was strange to have a first date with someone that you knew so well, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. Each kiss felt natural and fun, not nerve-wracking and awkward as in the dates of your past. Before all this, you scoffed at yourself for wishing that there was a switch you could toggle to go from best friends to girlfriends, but so far it seemed to work precisely like that.

To the sound of your giggling, the sun was poised to set soon. The aviary closed early because it was Sunday, and you found yourself with Morn leaning against the gleaming hood of her car. You saw your reflection in it, the two of you framed by the orange sky. She came to your side, attaching to you like a magnet.

"It's probably time we headed home, huh?" she suggested.

"Yeah, probably," you replied reluctantly. "I almost don't want it to end."

"It doesn't have to." Morn smiled. "Did you really think I'd kiss you goodnight and leave you on the curb?"

You giggled. That would certainly be the plan for a first date with a stranger, but this was Morn.

"You could come by and hang out with me in my dorm for a bit?" she asked.

"I'd love to." You answered. Her dorm building and yours were right next to each other, after all. She stood up from the hood of her car and opened the passenger side door, offering the seat to you. Not long after stowing your skateboard in the trunk, you were cruising through the city streets bound for the university. Morn's focus made the ride a smooth one, her hands expertly gripping the steering wheel and gear shifter. She wore a focused but pleased expression as she deftly maneuvered the growling vehicle.

"Oh!" Her concentration broke. "We should get food! We haven't eaten at all."

Tires squealed as she veered right, making a turn she wasn't expecting to make. You gripped your armrest and giggled. The engine roared and, within moments, delivered you to a drive-through whose location Morn seemed to know by heart. She was so familiar with it that she blew past the lit-up menu and instead went directly to order.

"Don't worry, I'll get you something you'll like." She reassured you before making it out of the drive-through, takeout bag in hand, in record time. The bag landed in your lap and delicious smells wafted from it. You were tempted to peek inside and sample its contents, but even while entranced with Morn's driving skills you knew eating in her car was a no-no. Untoasted Pop-Tarts during a late-night study session on her bed were okay but her car was like a temple. You folded the top of the bag to make it easier to resist the temptation.

After she had parked and gotten out of the car, you followed her with takeout bag in one hand and skateboard in the other. This late on a Sunday night, the sky was a deep navy. Stark white light from the lamp posts illuminated the web of pathways that connected the dorms, parking lots, student union, and myriad other places you'd typically skateboard solo to.

A few beeping locks later, you made it to Morn's dorm room. Like yours, it was spartan and tiny, but it belonged to her and her alone. You set the bag down on the solitary table and determined to chow down, but Morn caught your attention. She sat on the twin-sized bed that you had shared with her many times before; platonically, of course. She had an expression that you couldn't quite decipher.

"You okay?" You asked, not sure where to begin.

"I'm great, actually," she said, brushing her hair out of the way so she could look at you. "Sorry if I overdid it with the kisses earlier—"

"You didn't," you interjected.

"I just... It felt great to kiss you. I don't know if it's just my nerves, or the newness of it all, or something else, but... I'm kicking myself for not making the first move on you sooner." She looked away, blushing a forest green on her cheeks. You sat next to her on the bed before she could say anything more.

"Hey, don't feel bad just because I was moping for a bit. The fact I was so worried is proof that you can't really know how someone feels about you until you ask. Even if you were friends since forever ago." You reversed the usual arrangement by wrapping your arm around her. She chuckled softly.

"I can't believe I was stressing myself out over random sorority chicks at parties rejecting me. Being with you just feels so much better than the dating apps and the parties and shit like that," Morn sighed. "I know it's technically only our first date but I really think we're something special."

"We are special," you held her tighter, "we went on our first date after... what, a decade and a half of knowing each other? That kind of history sure beats cheesy Tinder pick-up lines."

"Sure does," Morn punctuated her sentence with a kiss. Instead of giving you a quick peck, she pressed her lips into yours even harder. Within the privacy of her dorm room, your heart fluttered at the notion of Morn being able to do whatever she wanted to you. You felt the beginnings of her tongue at your lips, then she pulled away and took a deep breath. Her face was inches from yours as you caught your breath.

"I really like kissing you," Morn uttered. "Now that we're alone... are you okay if I really kiss you?"

"Really kiss me?" you teased. She got even closer.

"Please?" She played along with her best begging tone.

"Go ham." She kissed you again, giggling at your choice of words with her lips pressed against yours once more. She immediately cradled your head in her strong hands, gently placing you into a reclining position. There wasn't much room, but she managed to fit alongside you in the twin-sized bed all without breaking the kiss. You opened your eyes after pulling away to breathe, and all you could see were her dandelion-colored irises.

"I'm gonna go again," She said, smiling. "I just had to get a good look at you first."

"You can do whatever you want, Morn." You grabbed her arm and placed her hand on you. "Just don't keep me waiting."

Morn kissed you hard for the third time, the hand you held now caressing your body ravenously. As her tongue gently played at your lips, her hand found its way to your chest and played with your breasts. She hardly gave you time to gasp, coming back to your mouth with fervor. Her tongue met yours in earnest now, both of you closing the space on the bed between you. Her body flush with yours, you could feel every muscle as she held you close.

You felt one of her legs settle in between your thighs, and you whined into her mouth as she teasingly rubbed you against it. Even fully clothed the sensation was electric, no doubt due to the person giving it to you. Many nights alone had involved fantasies just like this. Now they were coming true.

Desperately, you began grinding yourself against her leg. You chased the sensation as far as you could, moaning into Morn's kiss. Just as you felt yourself approaching the edge, she removed herself from you. Her leg pulled away and the kiss stopped. You opened your eyes, bewildered. Morn had gotten off the bed and kneeled just next to it, her eyes level with your aching need. She grabbed the waistband of your bottoms before looking you in the eyes again.

"You said you didn't want me to keep you waiting," she grinned, tusks glistening. "This okay?"

"It's more than okay... stop teasing me!" You whined. She nodded, pulling your bottoms off entirely before hovering in between your legs. You could feel her breathe on you through your underwear. God, she was so close; you twitched with each puff of warm breath. Her tusks brushed against the inside of your thighs. With a tentative finger she eased your underwear out of the way, gently planting kisses all around your bare mound. She held your legs in place as they twitched and reacted to her electric touch. She deliberately avoided your tender nub with her warm lips. She was playing with you.

"Morn, please," you begged. She paused to look up at you and give a toothy grin.

"You're so cute when you're frustrated," she teased, quickly going back for more. She felt unimaginably warm against your already hot entrance. It wasn't unlike all those other times you melted at Morn's touch, only now it was so intense you couldn't help but let out gasps and squeaks. She held nothing back this time. Hungrily, she lapped at your slit, each lick finishing with a flourish on your sensitive little nub. You mewled in time with her curling tongue.

"Oh! That's— ah! So good!" You moaned, your back beginning to arch as you squirmed around on the mattress.

"You flatter me," Morn uttered between licks, looking proud. You saw something in her eye before she let go of one of your thighs and brought her hand to your entrance. Her tongue didn't let up at all as she slowly introduced one of her substantial fingers. It fit comfortably inside you at first, but you gasped hard when it started moving. Morn added another soon after, stretching you deliciously.

"I'm gonna come if you keep that up," you panted, your face burning red and lungs desperate for air.

"My pleasure," Morn said before redoubling her efforts. Her fingers curled inside you, making a "come hither" motion that made your hips rock. By this point, Morn's tongue had trouble staying on you as you writhed. You gasped with every finger curl, well and truly lost in the heat of the moment.

"Ah! Morn!" You cried, rocking yourself against her fingers desperate for more. She gave up on trying to lick your nub, instead palming one of your breasts with her other hand and pinning you to the bed. With the new leverage, she worked your insides with her fingers, pumping them in and out of you with her muscular arm. You could see sweat beading on her taut green skin.

"Come for me. I wanna see you come," Morn urged. You could do little else but cry out and oblige her. Your body spasmed hard as you cried out gibberish interspersed with her lovely name. Her fingers didn't stop rubbing against your inner walls, leaving you breathless and faint and tightly wound around her. The coiling pleasure within you finally snapped. Your back arched, completely leaving the bed as Morn pressed her lips into yours. She kissed you hungrily as you wailed into her mouth. There was nothing in your mind but the feeling of her fingers coaxing you through the height of your bliss and holding you there for as long as possible. When the pleasure finally started to subside and your breath returned to you, Morn finally withdrew her fingers and lips and wiped her forehead. She smiled at you wordlessly.

"I love you, Morn," you said, panting. There was nothing else to say, nothing else on your mind. If you had given yourself that sort of bliss on a lonely night, you would be drowsy and lethargic. Instead, with Morn turning her love for you into pleasure that made you cry out and curl, you had never felt more alive. She gave you a moment to catch your breath. Leaving your lips unkissed, she sat by your side and stroked your hair.

"I love you too," she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. "Are you tired?"

You shook your head enthusiastically. Sure, you would likely be sore in a few hours, but you wouldn't dream of denying Morn more of you.

"Good, because I wanna get off too." She chuckled and pecked your lips. Undressing herself completely, she helped you out of what clothes remained until you were both completely bare. You were completely flush against her on the bed once more, your skin perfectly complimenting her green form. Her body was toned and full, muscled yet smooth. Even after all you had just been through, the sight of her still made your heart skip.

"I've always wanted to try this. Spread your legs," she commanded, gently grasping your ankles. You complied and she lifted one of your legs aloft just in front of her as if about to hug it. Still holding your leg pointed toward the ceiling, she straddled your dripping warmth with her own. She eased herself onto you and those lovely electric feelings returned. She moaned for the first time, her pleasured sounds like music to your ears.

The position was a little awkward and bent your back in a strange way, but the feeling of her slick sex pressed against yours was delicious.

"I'm gonna start moving," Morn said. She initiated a gentle rocking motion that made you both gasp. The friction between the two of you felt gorgeous and you soon found yourself reciprocating with your hips. Interlocked and sharing the same squeaks and mewls, you wanted desperately to kiss her but couldn't. You had to lay there at her mercy as Morn clung to your leg and ground herself into you. She doubled up on her pace.

"Oh, shit," Morn groaned, both with pleasure and with effort. She had the same expression as when she was driving; when her head wasn't thrown back with a sigh, she was looking at you with love but also intent. Her grinding made you moan and her glare made you shiver delightfully. You had never felt anything like this before, nor had you even fantasized about Morn pressed up against you like this.

"This feels amazing... ah! Morn..." you sighed between yelps when the friction between you peaked.

"I—I..." Morn gasped, her entire face contorted and flushed. She had brought you to your peak once already, and now you wanted nothing more than to see her reach her own ecstasy.

"Please, Morn, come," you pleaded, mirroring her own urgency when she had brought you to orgasm earlier.

"No, I... Shit, I've got a cramp." She sighed, this time tinged with disappointment as she stopped her grinding. "Ouch." She gently disentangled herself from you, rubbing her thigh. The realization that her creased brow had come from pain and not pleasure embarrassed you a bit, an emotion that Morn echoed.

"Hey, it's okay." You sat up and held her shoulder. Her eyes were downcast as she massaged the cramp out of her muscled thigh. "Just so you know, I'm having a great time."

"You were having a great time." She winced as she shifted her kneeling weight on the bed. "Serves me right for thinking I could fuck like a pornstar on the first date, huh?"

"I already came once, Morn," you reminded her. Sitting alongside her, equally naked and sweaty, there was a clarity in the air that made it effortless to speak your mind. You felt bold, yet comfortable. You felt like you wanted more of Morn's body. "Let me take care of you. I think I can make this work."

"Take the lead, babe," Morn relented. The way she said babe made you giddy inside, but you were focused on her now. "Just mind the leg, it still freakin' hurts."

"Morn, when I say I'm gonna take care of you, I mean it. Just lie down," you said, easing her onto her back. With the positions reversed, you had a moment to look her up and down. Laid bare before you and anticipating your next move, the sight of her awoke something within you. Something that told you not to hold back.

You practically pounced atop her, squarely laying yourself on her body. She met you with a kiss that you eagerly returned. You channeled all your built-up desire to please her into that kiss, at the same time aligning your mound with hers. It took a few tries, but eventually, you found the angle where your clit could meet hers without requiring pornstar-style flexibility. Pleasure jolted through both of you and she broke the kiss to gasp.

"Told you I could make it work," you grinned, focusing now on the movement of your hips. You started slowly at first as to not tire yourself out but quickly increased the pace as the coiling warmth inside you grew. Instead of kissing her, you buried your face in her shoulder so you could hear her sing. With every roll of your hips she moaned, louder and louder as you humped her harder and harder.

"Oh, god, babe," Morn panted. You could feel her frenzied breath on your neck as she cried out. You could feel your own orgasm building but all you cared about was her.

"Tell me how you feel," you commanded, maintaining your hips' pace. "I want you to come so bad."

"Keep going," Morn grunted. "I'm close, I'm so fucking close!"

You furthered your efforts, grinding your desperate nub into hers with vigor. You panted as you began to feel tingles in your extremities and your breath became impossibly tight. Morn matched your desperation, her hips weakly pushing upwards so that her mound would meet yours sooner. Just a little more! More! You shouted to yourself mentally as Morn's hands squeezed your waist to signal her impending orgasm.

You frantically let go of her body with one hand, giving up precious leverage in order to make sure Morn couldn't escape the pleasure you were giving her. There was nothing you wanted more than to reach the peak together. You gently caught her pearl between your fingers and rolled it as you ground into her, drawing out deep moans from her. She spasmed in your grasp, gasping in time with your own pleased sighs.

"Oh god!" She cried out, throwing her head back into the piled-up blankets. Her whole body tensed and you could feel each of her rippling muscles press against you in a desperate bid to ride out her orgasm. You followed soon after, the air forced from your lungs as an explosion of tingling warmth knocked the wind out of you. All you could do was cry out with her and press your nub into hers where your hand was still at work. You rubbed and rolled, trying your best to prolong the mutual climax before finally catching your breath and collapsing into Morn's tired embrace.

With your body limp and your face buried in her neck, you could feel her breasts rise and fall with each breath. You held each other loosely for a moment, just listening to her breathe. After only a few heartbeats, she started giggling.

"What's so funny?" you asked, lifting your heavy head to look at her.

"Nothing," she stifled her giggles, a tear rolling down her cheek. "That was just really, really good."

"Are you crying?" You asked, concerned but secretly proud of your handiwork.

"No, I'm not crying. I'm tearing up, there's a difference," she chuckled. "Thank you."

"Thank you. You're the one that started it," you cooed, stroking her hair. "plus, you ate me out first so I think I owe you."

"It's on the house," Morn sighed contently. "But you're still on me... could you roll over, please?"

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly shifted your weight off of her and onto the mattress.

"Don't worry about it, I just figured the bed was softer than me." She chuckled again.

You said nothing, instead opting to resume your embrace with her from the side. She reciprocated, rolling over so she could be the big spoon. She wrapped her arms around you snugly.

"Ah, shit," Morn cursed under her breath.

"What? What's wrong?" You craned your neck a bit to see her golden eyes in your periphery.

"Our food is definitely cold by now," she grumbled, "and I don't have a microwave."

“I’ve got snacks in my bag.” You replied.

Morn readied a compliment, but delayed when both your phones buzzed. THA HOOLIGANZ had something to say.

“What is it now?” Morn rolled over and grabbed her phone, reading the messages as they rolled in. You did the same.

“What the…?”

Lash: did you two kiss yet???

Dera: they did more than that 😳😳😳

Morn shot you a look of disbelief before tapping away frantically.

Morn: wtf are you guys talking about?

You: ^

Lash: the crepe date! u two are dating now right?

You: what do u mean crepe date? the breakfast u failed to show up to u mean??

Lash: lol, relax. we just thought you two needed some time alone. for the record, i was actually hung over. me and dera just agreed you two needed to talk it out

Dera: seriously, u look at Morn the way she looks at crepes, and she looks at u the way Lash looks at literally anyone

Lash: or the way u look at dudes bulges

Dera: shut up

“I…” Morn began, jaw agape. “I don’t know if I should be mad or amazed. I’m both.”

“They set us up like lonely freshmen.” You shook your head, chuckling.

Lash: u two are dating now right???

Morn: yes dumbass

You: can confirm

Lash: CUTEEEEE

Dera: morn fucks on the first date. respect.

You: wait how- what?

Dera: ur in Morn’s dorm right

Your texting was interrupted by three solid thumps coming through the wall.

Dera: i’m right next door and these dorms are made of fucking paper

Morn: hey, i’ve dealt with hearing every single time you slept with some guy. fair is fair

Dera: no judgment from me!

Lash: suddenly i’m glad i still live with my parents…

You put your phone down as you really didn’t have much to say. Morn gave up on it as well, your phones resting together on the floor. She resumed spooning you and a moment later, you felt her chest start to heave with laughter; a hearty laugh loud enough for Dera to hear through the walls. You joined her, laughing until your diaphragm ached. The whole situation, the realization that Dera and Lash knew before either of you did and that they had a master plan… utterly ridiculous. It was like something out of a movie, yet with your arms wrapped around one of Morn’s, completely real. You feared this was all a dream, and as soon as you succumbed to sleep in Morn’s cozy twin bed, it would dissolve.

Morn could tell sleep started to take you.

“I love you,” she whispered into your ear. She squeezed you tight. You had never been more sure of anything in your life that Morn would still be cuddling you when you woke up.

[sirskinwalker]

Title: Truth or Dare

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Prinxiety (Roman x Virgil)

TW/CW: N/A

Original Prompt: Virgil knows how to sew, and he hand-made his puppet in the Puppet Vid. He may or may not have some plushies of animals who bear resemblance to each side.  

Prompt Credit: @chaoticandidioticsidesaus 

Story:

It has been a very tiring day for Virgil. Roman is being an ass, Logan is being a smartass, and Patton… Well, Patton hasn’t done anything wrong.

In the end, Virgil is exhausted, anxious, and wants nothing else than to be away from the others and to just chill out in his room, watching Disney movies with his comfort pillows and stuffed animals.

After a moment, Virgil picks himself up from the living-room couch, and starts to drag himself to his room. Before he can fully escape inside, though, Patton begins to call after him. When the anxious side doesn’t respond immediately, he hears Morality telling off the Creative and Logical sides for being rude and inconsiderate of the people around them.

Although it was meant to be a nice gesture, it had the opposite effect. Instead of appreciativeness, Virgil instead feels annoyance. He doesn’t need someone to defend him, nor does he want to start a situation between them. It’s just better to leave it be, Virgil thinks.

Slipping behind his dark purple door, he takes a deep breath. He closes the door slowly behind him, pushing until he hears a soft click. Moving hastily, he makes his way to his bed, where a box that is filled with an assortment of coloured yarn and crochet needles sits, just barely peeking out between the tons of pillows.

Carefully, he picks up a project he had spent the last few days working on. A small black cat, with bright purple eyes and stripes. Virgil works quickly and efficiently, and with each stitch he does another worry fades away. Being so caught up in his work, he doesn’t hear someone knocking on his door. Or he does, and he just doesn’t care. 

Virgil doesn’t bother saying anything when Roman tries to apologize for calling him paranoid. He stays silent when Logan tries next. They aren’t worth his time right now. 

~~~

Hours pass, and Virgil is left staring at the plushie he has made. It’s purrfect, he chuckles. He admires the crocheted cat in his hands a minute longer, happy and proud of himself. Then he kisses the animal on the head softly, before uncrossing his legs and standing up from where he sat on his bed. 

Virgil’s back pops loudly, and his legs ache. The anxious side doesn’t let this ruin his good mood, though. He just smiles, and walks over to his desk. He is greeted by a familiar sock puppet, along with all of his other hand-made puppets. 

A black raven is perched upon a stack of books, with a striped tie and thick glasses. A German Shepard with a red sash with gold accents defends an ever-growing eyeshadow collection. A pastel blue bunny with hearts on its cheeks looks up at him happily.And a yellow snake with emerald green eyes curls around a dark green octopus with mischievous grin and black sash. 

Placing the black cat amongst the other animals, Virgil felt light, light and happy. Only when his stomach growls does he realize how hungry and dehydrated he is. Though they had passed like minutes, Virgil realizes that hours have passed, with no breaks for food or water. He curses himself before sneaking out from his room, silently hoping that the others are off in their rooms, or at least somewhere they won’t notice him. 

Virgil makes it to the kitchen without being caught, and only when he grabs a water bottle and ham does he notice someone watching. He almost drops everything in his arms in surprise, but manages to collect himself before that could happen. He turns to come face-to-face with Roman, who still has a stupid smirk on his face at being able to spook Virgil. 

“Need something, Sir. Sing-A-Lot?” Virgil growls, taking a glance at the prince in annoyance. He grabs the rest of the stuff to make a sandwich, not stopping to wait for a reply.  “I want to apologize,” Roman starts, watching him. “I tried knocking earlier, but you might have been asleep. I’m sorry for calling you the bad guy, and paranoid. I was being a dick without good reason.”

Virgil looks up and stares into Roman’s eyes. He searches for any trace of dishonesty, but only finds true guilt. 

The anxious side shakes his head, as he says: “I accept your apology. Now, if you would leave me alone, it would be great -”

“Virgil!” Patton bounces into the kitchen, a bright smile on his face. His smile wavers as he looks between the two others, a silent question on his face. 

“We’re okay now, Patty Cakes,” Roman answers, giving a nod for him to continue. 

“Oh! That’s good,” Patton’s smile comes back, somehow brighter than before. “I was going to invite you guys for a game!”

Virgil bites into his sandwich, hiding his frown. He casts his eyes down, “that would be great, but, uh, I have something already…” he trails off. The anxious side glances up, and regrets his words immediately. 

Patton’s eyes are filled with disappointment, and Virgil swears he sees tears forming. Roman seems to notice, too, because he quickly speaks up, saying: “you’ve been in your room already, Stormcloud. You can take a break, can’t you?” 

Slowly, Virgil nods. He silently thanks Roman for the save, and lets Patton drag him by the sleeve into the living room. There they join Logan, who stands up once he sees Virgil.

“It’s cool, Logan. I accept your apology.” 

The logical side nods and sits back down, relaxing. “So, what are we going to play?” He asks as the others sit down around him. 

“I was thinking Truth or Dare,” Patton responds, looking around the room in case anyone has a different idea. When everyone was in agreement, he started, asking Logan, ‘truth or dare’? Rounds pass quickly, and Virgil is smiling and giggly. When Roman asks, “truth or dare,” he responds quickly, choosing dare. 

“Show us a secret talent.”

Virgil pauses. His eyes widen a little in surprise, but before he can change his mind he gets up and goes into his room. The others look between each other, thinking that he just ditched, but understand when he comes back.

In his arms are the plushies he had made for them. Patton squeals, and Logan gives a rare smile. Roman’s mouth drops, and his face holds an emotion unreadable. 

Virgil passes the stuffed animals around, laughing as Patton proudly announces: “I’m naming her Sugar!” 

“I love them.” Roman whispers, stroking the German Shepherd’s back slowly. Virgil blushes, hiding his face with his jacket as he shakes his head at Logan. 

“Keep them,” He says, stopping Logan from giving him the raven back. “He’s yours, now. I kept meaning to give you them, but I kept thinking you were going to hate them. So, they just stayed on my desk.” 

“Thank you, Creepy Cookie,” Roman speaks quietly, standing up and kissing the Anxious side on the cheek. “I love that smile of yours almost as much as the German Shepherd.” 

[the--highlanders]

Marginalia

Zoe and the Doctor debate the usefulness of writing in books.

on ao3.

Exactly why the Doctor could not order his books logically, Zoe would never understand. She had pointed out the issues to him many times – the arrangement followed none of the systems she had ever heard of, and she had found crocheting books on the chemistry shelves far too often for them to simply be misplaced. Always different ones, too. Like someone was moving them around regularly. Maybe the Doctor was an avid crocheter, and she had just not caught him at it yet. But whatever the reason, he had never managed to give her a good answer. Just hmph-ed and shuffled around awkwardly to turn his shoulder towards her and murmured something about knowing his own library, thank you very much. She could have borne the whole thing more easily if he had just had a reason, but instead she was left to grind her teeth every time she walked through the place.

Still, at least it gave her something to think about as she wandered past shelf after shelf. How she would rearrange them, if given the chance. Knowing the TARDIS, though, she would probably leave at the end of a hard day’s work and return the next morning to find everything back where it had started.

“There you are,” she exclaimed when she caught sight of the Doctor’s feet propped up on the arm of a sofa. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I’m exactly where I always sit,” the Doctor mumbled around the pen held between his teeth. Sighing, Zoe put her hands on her hips. These little clearings amongst the shelves all looked the same, that was for sure, with rows of overstuffed sofas and fancy little coffee tables whose swirling decorations were pitted with chips. But even if she tried her hardest to follow the same route, she never seemed to find them in the same place twice. At this point, she was convinced that there was only one of them, really, and the TARDIS delighted in moving it around just to confuse her. Today they were nestled in between baking and witchcraft. Last time they had been right in the middle of astronomy.

Only as she settled herself into the sofa opposite the Doctor did she realise that he was pausing occasionally to make notes. Datapads were a bit beyond the Doctor, as she knew through bitter experience, so she was hardly surprised to find that he was not using one. But today he was not even using a notebook of his own, or on a loose sheet of paper, as he sometimes did. The concept of allowing writing implements into a library – well, she had not yet been able to bring herself to do it, the principles from the Wheel hammered too deeply into her, and if she caught the Doctor at it she tended to regard him with more than a little disdain. This, though… this was far worse.

He was writing in the books.

“You shouldn’t do that, you know,” she said, as evenly as she could manage.

“Mm?” He twirled the pen around, drawing a little spiral in the middle of the dog-eared triangle creased into the page’s corner, too absorbed in his work to see the pained expression that she was sure must be showing on her face.

“Writing in the books,” she explained. “It’s not good for them.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” The Doctor paused, at last looking up to her, but he left the tip of the pen resting against the page. It was a funny thing – ratty and old-fashioned, much like the Doctor himself, with a pointed silver end. Eighteen-hundreds, if she had to guess, or something very like it. Ink was leaking from its tip to pool on the paper, and she could not tear her eyes away from the growing black mark. “Writing in books can be a very useful thing. All sorts of information has been preserved that way, through time. Entire languages, even.”

“Really.” Despite herself, she peered more closely at the Doctor’s little scribblings. There were no words, she realised. Just endless circles, running up and down the margins. Some of them interlocked with smaller circles, some of them were full of more lines in every direction. Even worse, if he had just been doodling rather than writing anything meaningful. But there was a sort of an order to them, if she really squinted. Something more akin to characters that stood for whole words than letters that simply stood for sounds, if she had to guess – only vastly more complicated. Perhaps each large circle was a whole sentence, or even a whole paragraph. Or something else entirely, something which English did not have a word for. She had seen the Doctor write in many languages with many different alphabets, but she had never seen anything like this.

If it was a language, though – surely the TARDIS should be translating it. And yet no matter how hard she stared at the circles, they refused to resolve themselves into words she could understand.

The Doctor had buried himself in his work again, but he flicked the page over, like he had seen her staring. This next page was blank, and he did not immediately pick his pen back up from the sofa cushions. “You know,” he carried on, “on your Earth – the writings of scholars in the margins of their books becomes utterly invaluable hundreds of years later. People build their careers around studying them. A little time capsule – something like the TARDIS, if you will, insignificant on the outside but so much bigger on the inside. A window onto the past for people in the future. Writing in books is terribly important.” He paused, lifting the pen and flicking it over to rub the end of it back and forth against his lower lip. Ink dripped out from the nib as he did so, flicking over the pages and onto the fabric of the sofa. “Not that I’m writing anything that would be particularly helpful to someone else. Or in a language that will be forgotten.” Another pause. This time, he worried the edge of his lip between his teeth, his expression turning a little more somber. “But one never knows.”

Glancing around the library, Zoe let her eyes trail up to the very tops of the shelves. They towered over her – a little over four metres, if her estimates were right, as they usually were. It was a colossal space, but somehow the Doctor managed to fill it, to make it seem cozy and cramped and comforting just through his presence. “Nobody else would end up with all these books anyway, would they?” She had not meant for it to sound quite so much like a plea for reassurance. “I mean – it’s hardly as if you’ll pass them onto anyone.” Even if Jamie had not told her about the Doctor’s impossible trick of changing his face, she was sure she could never have imagined him dying. It was the agelessness of him, she supposed. He had been here before her, and he would be here long after she was gone. “You’ll just – carry on.”

“Mm.” The Doctor flipped another page idly. This fresh leaf was not blank, but filled with other scribbles – in different inks, some in what she might have called a different hand, if the writing had been in any alphabet she recognised. The circles were smaller, their embellishments more cramped, though they were slightly less lopsided. Pausing over the first of these, the Doctor leaned in closer, his pen dipping in towards the paper. “Goodness me,” he murmured, “what was he thinking? No, no, that won’t do at all.” And then he was off, scrawling away. The very sound of it made Zoe wince – and she winced harder when he whisked the pen off the page with a flourish, skittering ink into some of the book’s real text. “Yes,” he said at last, though she was not sure whether he was talking to her or the old writing. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

“So if you’re not going to leave them to anybody,” she pressed on, “then whatever you write in them won’t be important, will it? There’ll be nobody to read it but you.”

The Doctor had set his tongue between his teeth, his eyes widened a little in concentration as he pressed fresh circles into the page with all the annoyance he usually directed towards recalcitrant bureaucrats and stubborn scientists. “My dear Zoe,” he forced out from between gritted teeth, “that is exactly who I am leaving these notes for.” He gestured down at a column of circles written in slightly-faded blue ink. “He has left notes for me – and sooner or later, there’ll be him, and I’m leaving notes for him.” Glancing up at her, he cocked his head to one side in an oddly birdlike motion. “Do you see?”

“Him?” Zoe echoed.

“Me.”

“Oh.” There were times, with the Doctor, when you had to know when to simply leave something be. This was one of those times, if Zoe had ever seen one. “But that doesn’t mean you have to write in the book.”

“Zoe,” he said, more firmly than she had expected. “These are my books, are they not?”

“Well, yes -”

“Then -” He peeked over the top of the book, throwing her a twinkle-eyed smile like a schoolchild who knew he was clever enough to give a teacher the run-around, and cheeky enough to do it. Not that Zoe had any experience with such things. “It won’t matter if I write in them, will it?”

“Oh -” She threw her hands in the air, standing up from the sofa. “Oh, I suppose not. But I object,” she added, waving her finger at him and fixing him with her best schoolteacher glare. If he wanted to play the delinquent schoolboy – well, two could play at that game. “I don’t think you should do it.”

“Noted.” He turned back to his book, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Something I wanted?” In truth, she had quite forgotten why she had come in here at all. The library could be like that, sucking you in and making you forget exactly why you had arrived, or if you needed to go out again. Just quietly whispering away in the back of your mind. Why would you leave? It’s warm, and comfortable, and there’s all the books you could ever wish for. Like it wanted you to stay. “Oh!” she exclaimed at last. “I heard a funny noise coming from the console. Jamie swears he’s heard it before and that it doesn’t mean anything, but I wasn’t so sure -”

“Oh, I’m just running a few tests.” The Doctor waved one hand at her idly, quietening her and beckoning her over in one fluid motion. “Jamie’s quite right. Nothing to worry about.” Closing her mouth, Zoe wandered around the coffee table to perch herself on the edge of the sofa. The Doctor heaved himself upright to make room for her until he was sitting cross-legged, the book cradled in his lap. “Now come and tell me what you think of this – it’s rather interesting...”

[gotta-love-alejandra]

Veda and Ever

I wrote a very gay story about Ever, a non binary forager who lives in a cottage with her cat, and a large lesbian, Veda, who has traveled her whole life with her her pet wolf. They meet one day and both of them question whether or not they want to spend another day apart.

I don't write very often, so its not very good.

In all seriousness I am really proud of this, I hope you like it.

Word count: 2078

Ever woke up knowing that today they need to go out and get some wild herbs. They have an entire garden full in their yard, surrounded by forest. They practically have an entire bush of herbs growing in their kitchen, but the onions that they were growing just weren't blooming as much as they’d hoped, and they needed some for the stew they were making tonight.

They hopped out of bed, opened their wardrobe, grabbing a pair of overalls, an earthy colored top and a golden colored beanie they crocheted themselves. After they dressed, they walked into the kitchen being met by Chamomile, a light grey cat with pastel purple eyes they had found wandering about their garden all those years ago. Chamomile jumped on the table and nudged Ever with her head, asking to be pet, Ever complied, patting her head a few times.

“Today we have to go out and find some onions for our stew, '' they remarked mostly to themselves. Chamomile replied with an understanding mew.

On their way out, they grabbed a pair of boots and threw the beanie on their messy, raven black curls, and headed out the door. Followed by chamomile walking out of the small cat door Ever had made. Walking away from their small little cottage in the middle of the forest, they ventured on, determined to find what they needed for their stew.

After walking nearly 5 miles Chamomile pawed at Ever’s feet, asking for them to turn back. “I know we’ve been walking for a while, but I need the onions for my stew!” When Chamomile gave no response other than a very disapproving look Ever knew that it was time to turn back. They hadn’t noticed, but now that they had taken a moment to stop, they’re legs were beginning to ache. Ever had turned to the mark on the tree that they had placed so as to not lose their way and started to follow it. After taking a few steps they noticed that Chamomile wasn't following them anymore.

“Chamomile?” They called out to the cat, asking for her to follow. When they turned around to look at Chamomile they noticed that she was eyeing a large bush, “Did you find something?” They asked, stepping towards the gray cat, when suddenly a large wolf leaped from inside the bush growling. Chamomile immediately took a defensive stance in front of Ever, who had taken a few steps back in surprise. When all of a sudden they heard a voice coming from the direction the wolf had.

“Dex? Where did you go?” The voice belonged to a woman, her voice was deep, sounding slightly gravely. The woman walked out from where the wolf had, “Oh, there you ar-” She looked up from the wolf and saw Ever, with their small frame and slender body. Immediately, she felt a need to protect them from anything that came their way, it was almost as if it was instinct was telling her that she needed to protect Ever.

Ever looked at the very tall woman that stood in front of them, taking in her Broad shoulders and muscular build. They noted the sword sheathed on their left hip. They stood silently for a few seconds, neither of them saying a word, when Ever eventually broke the silence.

“H-hi, My name is Ever and this is my cat Chamomile.” They gestured to their cat, who was still holding a defensive position now standing closer to Ever.

“I’m Veda” she shot out her right hand asking for a handshake, which Ever accepted. “This is my wolf Dexter, I swear he won't bite.” She said, noticing Ever’s nervousness. “I didn't know anyone lived around here, I can leave if you want”

“No, it’s ok. Would you like to come have a cup of tea with me?” Ever offered; truthfully, they were lonely and Veda was one of the most handsome women they had ever seen. They didn’t want her to leave, not yet.

“Oh, Are you sure?” She replied, growing nervous under the gaze of Evers beautiful hazel eyes.

“It would be my pleasure. Although we are quite far from my house, do you mind walking?” they asked now wishing they had walked father so that they and Veda could spend more time together.

“No, not at all” Veda replied with a warm smile. Ever couldn’t help but notice the way her light brown hair complimented her amazingly, honey yellow eyes.

They walked in silence for most of the way, both nervous and stiff. Ever, being too caught up in their thoughts, tripped on a branch in front of them. Before they knew what happened they realized that they were pressed against Vedas chest, she had caught them.

“Woah, are you ok?” she asked letting go of them, wishing she could hold on to them for just a moment longer.

“Yea, yea I’m good. Thank you” They paused, “for catching me.” they said, continuing to walk.

“You're welcome, I'm glad you're ok.” Veda replied following Ever to their house.

The rest of the walk went pretty smoothly, filled with awkward glances. Once they arrived at Evers house they walked directly in only stopping to take off their boots, covered in mud. Veda stopped halfway on the stone-paved walkway, admiring it all. The house was round, only one floor, and was made with dark wood, the roof was a faded red. There were plants everywhere, some for decoration, some were vegetables or herbs.

“You can come in.” Ever remarked sarcastically from the open doorway, pulling Veda out of her thoughts.

“Oh, yea. Right.” she muttered, embarrassed. She walked into the door, “Your house is beautiful, by the way.” She was met with cream colored walls with dark, faded green accents and a burnt orange couch. Further in the house was a kitchen and dining room with a table next to the window.

“Take a seat, I’ll get the tea ready.” Ever said while cutting a few leaves from a plant next to the stove then filling the teapot with water. Huh, mint Veda thought to herself. She turned around and realized most, if not all, of the chairs were too small for her to fit in. She moved the chair sitting on one end of the square table and sat on the floor with her legs crossed.

Both Veda and Ever turned when they heard a loud thunk come from the living room, Dexter had bumped into the table and knocked off a glass.

“Oh jeez” Veda said as she stood up, bumping into the table that she was sitting at, almost knocking over the potted plant that was sitting in the center. She scrambled to grab it, catching it before it rolled off the table. She met Ever’s gase as they burst into laughter. Confused, Veda asked “What?” with a bashful smile.

“It seems my house is too small,” They said between giggles.

“Yea, Yea it does.” Veda chuckled .The teapot wined, reminding them both of what they were doing.

“Here. You stay there, try not to break anything,” they laughed, “and I’ll serve us tea.” They turned around and grabbed the teapot from the fire and poured their drinks. One small mug for Ever and a larger cup for Veda. Grabbing the honey and both cups, they took their seat at the table. “Would you like some honey?” they asked, handing Veda her larger cup.

“No, thank you.” Ever nodded in response and proceeded to put some in their tea, grabbing the honey wand, placing it in their cup and stirring.

“So, do you live around here or are you just passing through?” Ever asked, wanting to know more about the amazing woman sitting at the table with them.

“No- no, I don’t live around here, or much of anywhere really.” she said with a sigh. Ever tilted their head, not understanding the answer she gave. “I don’t really have a home,” Veda continued, “I travel everywhere I go, I haven't found a place I want to settle. So, I go from place to place, looking for somewhere to stay” She sighed, “haven't found it yet.” She didn't know why she was telling them all of this, but sitting there looking at their face she couldn’t help but feel like she could trust them with it all.

“Wow, that must be hard. I can only imagine.” Ever replied, worry etched on their face. “Why don't you stay here?” they paused seeing the concern on Vedas face, “Just for a few nights.” they suggested. “Wouldn’t it be nice to sleep in a warm bed, even if its just for a few nights.” Ever looked at Veda, who was silent. She couldn’t help but notice the hint of desperation in their voice.

“I really don't want to intrude, you’ve already been so nice.” She said, carefully standing.

“ No- Please.” Ever interjected standing with Veda, “Please don't go yet, I would love to have you here for a few days.” They paused sitting back down, Veda soon following. “Honestly, it can get pretty lonely out here, I don’t get many visitors” Veda hated seeing the way their shoulders slumped, and the way they wrapped their arms around themselves lightly.

“I understand that, the whole being alone thing.” Veda said, mindlessly petting Dex, who was laying next to her. Looking at Ever, Veda knew she couldn’t leave, not yet. Something in her gut told her that she needed to stay. “Okay, I’ll stay, even if it's just for a few nights” She said with a smirk.

Ever’s eyes lit up and they excitedly rushed over to their bedroom and came out with more blankets than one person would ever need. They plopped them all down on the couch and turned to look at a surprised Veda. She had never been cared for like this… not since Val. She walked over to the couch and sat down, even though it was smaller than what was comfortable, and started to feel the blanket that was on top. It was soft, and seemed to be knitted or crocheted.

“Did you do this yourself?” She asked, the blanket was very well made. Veda had never had time, nor the materials to learn. Her life had been too sporadic, always moving from one place to another, for her to learn not essential skills.

Ever, sitting on the floor in front of the couch, reached over and touched it. “Yea, I made that myself, took me almost 4 days.” She chuckled remembering, “My fingers were sore for a week after that,” They looked down at their fingers and flexed them, reminiscing the pain. They sat in silence for a while. Ever made their way off of the floor and grabbed a book for themselves and looked to Veda, “Do you want a book to read?” They grabbed the book they were currently reading.

“I’m not much of a reader.” Ever nodded, turned to the shelves and started looking for one of their favorite books, The Land of War and Fire, once they found it they scurried back over to the couch and handed Veda the book they had retrieved. “This is one of my favorites, I think you’ll like it.” they smiled so wide Veda had no other choice but to smile back, their happiness is contagious.

“The land of War and Fire,” Veda read aloud, “Sounds interesting.” They both sat in silence enjoying their books. The only sounds were the soft taps of Chamomile walking about, and the soft turning of pages.

It was getting late, Ever was not a night person, you would find them in bed by 10:30. It was no surprise that when Veda looked up from her book Ever was fast asleep, book in hand. Veda looked at the sleeping beauty in front of her and admired how peaceful they looked while they were sleeping. Though Ever wasn’t an anxious person all their stress carried in their shoulders, tensed and raised slightly. Now, they were completely relaxed.

Veda very slowly got up and grabbed the book from their limp hands, marked the page and set it on the coffee table in front of them. She had been accustomed to staying up late, instead of going to bed she continued reading the book Ever had given her. She enjoyed every word she read. Hours later she lay in the same position Ever had, book laying in limp hands.

A/n: I really hope you enjoyed this story, if you want a part 2 please let me know!!!

[paradise-creator]

im a minor and may i have a haven box with first year student from bnha - 🌻

description

appearance

im mixed with black and cuban

5’1 (155 cm) - aka very short

medium-ish (little past shoulder) short curly brown hair that is in long braids a lot; darkish brown eyes

i wear those clear glasses but they have a tiny of pink and i dress in a somewhat cutesy / color / simple fashion that involves jackets or sweaters a lot and definitely jeans with almost every outfit also i dress pretty modestly

personality

im that “they’re so stupid that they’re dumb and has no common sense”

im a soft + shy person who gets loud when you actually know m

im pretty naive + gullible

im that forgive and forget person which ends me up in trouble a lot

i cry when im frustrated and i don’t ever get mad and i such at arguing

im vv sensitive but i can kinda handle criticism

i have pretty bad anxiety but i have been getting better!!! (but breakdowns / attacks have happened recently)

extra

hobbies

i play cutesy games (ex: animal crossing + among us)

i crochet from time to time and i gets called a grandma for it (it’s calming!!)

facts

i have 3 younger siblings who i swear are just crazy af

i tend to curse a lot

i adore sweet foods (fruit + candy + desserts)

i have epilepsy - trigged by sleep + anxiety (and they’re just the small “space out” ones)

im vv cuddly + touchy (with consent!!) i have to be the big spoon because i feel trapped if im the small one

i stim a lot by playing with other peoples hands

i’ve always wanted a cat but my family is allergic to them

i get very cold very easily so im often curled up on myself

i am decent at spanish and english

misc.

bi

non-binary - she/they

- 🌻

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ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ

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*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. *. •.°

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Old habits die hard

- I'm here, baby

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Izuku Midoriya, Deku

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

- Okay like This dynamic would be adorable!

- Having a panic attack? DON'T WORRY CAUSE DEKU IS HERE

- Feeling really shy? It's okay! Deku is there to hug you and make you feel loved.

- This man is the definition of sweet

- He will understand and wait patiently for you

- He is also really observant, so he would know if there is something wrong

- He doesn't mind cuddling and eing the small spoon, as long as you feel safe and protected.

- HE WILL PROTECT YOU NO MATTER THE COST

-He thinks you are really cute and just overall need to protect.

- HIS JACKETS, SHIRTS, AND SWEATER ARE OVERSIZED

- But yes cute dynamic

- He is takes notes of your emotional cues and habits just so he is able to help you in anyway he can

- He also often spaces out whenever he stares at you. And if you caught him, he would just be R E D.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Old habits die hard

- He bought you this reversible mood plush just so he knows how you are doing

- He often checks the plush to see if you are okay

- Out of everyone he has noted about in his notebook, only you (And Allmight) have a whole notebook about you

- He notes down every little habit and things he found interesting

- He will lend you his hand anytime

- CUDDLES FOR DAYS

- There was this one time he snuck out of his room just so he can cuddle with you.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'm here, baby

Tw: Please read carefully, there are mentions of anxiety attack in this story. Starlight, if this makes you uncomfortable or offended, just let me know so I would be able to change it

It was a stormy night. The rain was pouring down the heavens and the wind blows hard. The Class 1-A seemed to be peaceful. Well, all except a certain curly brown haired girl. She was sitting on her bed, curled up and waiting. It wasn't the storm that scared her. Nor was she scared at all. She's just going through a lot and soon it all piled up. Might be an Anxiety attack? Panic attack? But as time progress it worsened. The weather not only made it worse but the feeling of the overwhelming projects due was stocking up quite high. With the recent LOV attack, it didn't really worked out for this girl. Soon enough a knock was heard at the door. "Baby, can I come in?" A soft voice called out.

It was Izuku Midoriya, her loving boyfriend. As much as she wanted to respond, her throat felt dry and voice strained. But she responded the best she could. "C-come in. It isn't locked," She stuttered as she buried herself deeper in her pile of pillows. The door creaked softly as the green haired male appeared. Once the door closed, the hero-in-training immediately went near the poor girl. He placed the plastic bag he was carrying down on a table. It was just a bag full of snacks and comfort food taht might help. "Hey baby," He said softly as he kneeled beside the bed. "H-Hey," She responded as she sniffed. Midoriya immediately grabbed a tissue and gave it to her. "C'mon, sit up for a while, I'll hold you," He then said.

The girl wanted comfort and security. All these emotion swirling around her mind was endless. Her train of thoughts grew darker and darker by the minute. She sat up and made some space for the larger male. Midoriya position himself below and and made sure his arms are wrapped around her in a comfortable manner. Now that the girl is laying on top of her, Midoriya couldn't help but blush. He knew that she wasn't comfortable with the small spoon and it's a bit awkward for him to be small spoon sometimes. So with her laying on top, she won't feel caged up or anything like that. As the girl continues to cry, the greenette stroke her hair and kissed her forehead. "It's okay. I'm here, baby," He whispered softly

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

Hello there! Thank you so much for requesting~ I had so much fun with this as well! I hope you don't mind the last part. If it's too much I can change it no prob! And I'm sorry for the wait...

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Geralt | Unheard Of

Prompt: “Isn’t this illegal?” Word count: 1700+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, forbidden relationship

The hinges of the door to the main hall creaked unpleasantly, causing me to look up in annoyance. I frowned; who could possibly be making an appearance at this time of the day? It was past the local curfew and father would certainly disprove if any of the servants were to be caught lingering around the private quarters at this time. A final outcome crossed my mind: a herald bearing bad news.

My gaze went to my father, who had stopped reading, his eyes now focused on the source of the noise - a dark, disheveled figure, a hood pulled tightly over his head, shielding it from view. Two swords in his back, revealing his profession. As he approached, he removed the brown material from his head, revealing several deep scars and feline eyes. This was a Witcher. Without the silverfox saying a word, my father arose from his seat, hands folding behind his back. 'It's past midnight and you dare to enter the private quarters of a noble family in high places. Tell me, why are you here?'

From his inner pocket, the Witcher fetched a piece of parchment. 'I am here for the contract. Thing is, I will need to be paid halfway in advance. Job's too risky to begin with empty-handed and I need some kind of insurance.' The sound of his deep voice caused chills to run down my spine, alongside something I hadn't felt in a long time - an undeniable heat in my abdomen. 'Insurance what for?' my father asked, 'you just do your job all right and I will pay you a rich sum.'

My father was startled by the man's gaze meeting his. 'Listen.' the Witcher spoke. 'We are talking about a Bruxa here. A Bruxa I will need to track down on my own without any other information that might help me to find them. This might take weeks, if not months if I can not access the correct resources. If you pay half in advance, I will stay both motivated and obligated to fulfill the contract.'

My father was silent for a while and my gaze shortly crossed the Witcher's, causing my cheeks to redden. He gave me a small smirk, a white eyebrow raising above his head.

'You Witchers don't have that easy of a job, I must admit. However, you're disgusting nevertheless. Fine, I will give you thirty percent in advance.' My father turned to me. 'The servants are asleep, so I would normally ask you to come back during the day to retrieve your gold. However, this is a case that needs to be acted upon immediately, and on top of that it might take quite a while until it's dealt with. (Y/n), would you be so kind to bring our Witcher with you to the safe and get six-hundred crowns for him? Oh, and master Witcher, don't get any funny ideas.' The count sunk back in his chair, dismissing us both.

I stood with shaking legs, putting down my crocheting work before walking over to the large man - he was at least two heads taller and my - he was intimidating. But that look in those feline eyes, it did things to me. I thickly swallowed, feeling my heart thumping in my throat. 'Follow me, Witcher.' I said, leading him away from the main hall, towards the sleeping quarters.

'You know, usually I do women a favour before they show me their bedrooms.' The Witcher said with a hint of a tease. I scoffed, but felt my stomach churn nevertheless. 'What's your name?'

'(Y/n). What's yours?' 'Geralt. Never knew the count's daughter was such a pretty thing.' I blushed, shaking my head before walking over to the dresser, where a safe was standing next to. 'Thank you, master Witcher.' I bit my lip as I unlocked the metal strongbox, turning to the White Wolf, giving him a nod of my head so he would come closer.

He took out a leather pouch so I could slip in six-hundred crowns worth of coins, each one clinking on top of the others. Other than that, it was silent, apart from that I could hear my heart hammering in my chest as I felt Geralt's hot breath on my face. By the gods, I had just met the man but his sheerpresence had me shivering.

'That's that.' I whispered, putting the bag of crowns back into the safe, locking it up tightly. As I started to turn away, I saw him smirk at me. Something in those yellow, burning eyes caused my clit to throb in anticipation. I was soaking already by the thought of him roughly taking me here and now.

'I want to give you something else, for on the way. Something to remember me by... Witcher.' I breathed, a certain force taking me over and giving me a huge boost of confidence. Oh, I wanted to do this here and now, my senses completely taking over.

Geralt looked at me puzzled as I stepped closer, sinking to my knees in front of him. My fingers reached for his belt, unbuckling it. For a moment, I looked at him, eyes half-lidded. His lips were slightly parted in confusion. '(Y/n), what are you... Are you sure?' I nodded, smiling at him.

I undid his belt partially, pushing his trousers down to reveal his loincloth; Oh, he must be huge underneath there. I had sucked cock before, but a Witcher's was never among those servants. As I slipped off the white underwear, I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was indeed blessed with a rather large member - it stood already half-erect and glistening, simply begging to be taken care of. I carefully took him in my hand, fingers wrapping around the base. I felt a vein down his length throb as I jerked him off a few times to have him fully hard, and a deep rumble came from the man's chest as I did so.

'Isn't this illegal?' Geralt asked while waving one hand through my (h/c) locks. 'I mean, a Witcher and the daughter of a count...' 'Hm... I don't care what my old man thinks. And I don't believe it for shit if you say that you've never fucked someone in high places.'

I slowly took the tip of his cock in my mouth, softly sucking on it to tease him and to get a taste of what was to come. The flavour that spread through my mouth made all my taste-buds stand on full attention, the heat between my legs intensifying as I engulfed the warmth of his length with my lips. Geralt grunted as his shaft hit the back of my throat and for a second I was wondering if he was into deepthroating. I looked up at him for a moment before pulling back, several strings of saliva connecting me to his penis. 'Hmmm...' I hummed, licking across his base, nipping here and there teasingly on the skin, one of my hands resting on his thigh, the other one inching further and further up my own leg.

I took him in my hand, stroking him firmly as my other fingers pushed aside my panties, already feeling the soaked mess that the Witcher had caused me to become. Geralt groaned as I pressed my tongue against the slit on his tip, dragging it over my entire tongue. I let him slip into my mouth again as I let my finger rub against my clit, which was yearning for attention. The hand Geralt had buried in my hair gripped a little tighter as I started to bob my head up and down, taking him in completely. I gagged, causing the Witcher to pull me back from his member to see my reaction. 'Are you alright?' I nodded, taking him further into my mouth again, my hand now rapidly flicking my clitoris. I let out a small moan which Geralt took as the cue to put his other hand in my hair and buck his hips into my face.

I temporarily lost control over my facial expressions as I tightly shut my eyes at the feeling of his cock ramming into my throat and I gagged loudly once more, tears springing into the corners of my eyes. I felt him twitch in my mouth, a wicked sensation that I yearned to feel again immediately after it happened. 'Fuck...' the Witcher swore, starting to thrust into my mouth while holding onto my hair. Shit, I loved the feeling of this stranger fucking my face, my own pleasure intensifying as he kept bucking and bucking. 'Can I cum in your mouth, princess? Can I cum in your mouth?' he asked me. I nodded, managing to smile. Tears and snot ran freely down my cheeks and I was a shivering mess that was on the verge of orgasming, but I didn't care. All I could focus on was how good he tasted and felt on my lips and how my clit was pulsating heavier and heavier with the second - with a moan I came on top of my own hand, hard.

Geralt growled as I felt a hot load of sperm being shot into my throat. I started coughing almost immediately and the Witcher pulled out, cupping my cheeks in his hands as if he had hurt me. I shook my head, giving him a reassuring smile as I made sure that he saw me swallow.

'Fuck, (Y/n), that was fucking hot!' I sheepishly smiled as he rubbed bits of cum from the corners of my mouth. With large thumbs, he wiped away the tears and snot - he was anything but disgusted. 'A little something that is to come if you return with a fulfilled contract.' I said with a hoarse voice, holding up the hand that was slick with my own excitement. I beckoned him to suck on them, and when he did, I saw his eyes widen in surprise, his flaccid, satisfied cock jerking in pleasure.

'Hmm, I'll come back for another taste of that... And more.' He muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. I smirked, tucking him carefully back in his underwear and trousers before standing up, creasing down my dress before straightening my back. I pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, making him sigh in satisfaction. 'I will certainly come back.' Geralt muttered after I pulled back, moving in for another kiss, a bit firmer this time, his tongue teasing my bottom lip just slightly. 'And then I will fuck you over and over again.'

Without saying another word, he pulled away, winking at me, leaving me breathless and anxious for his return.

[imjustthemechanic]

Glockenspiel

Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly Part 4/? - The Future Part 5/? - Too Late Part 6/? - The Mystery of the Missing Time Machine Part 7/? - Underway Part 8/? - The Sierra Bunker Part 9/? - Cross-Country Part 10/? - The Pit Part 11/? - Calls for Help Part 12/? - Campout and Reunion Part 13/? - Apocalypse Bunker Part 14/? - Terrible Truths Part 15/? - Library Crystals Part 16/? - The Stark Gallery Part 17/? - Caught in the Act

The employees never noticed Howard and Peggy as they slipped down a side hallway, and Howard opened a closet.  In 1946, Peggy recalled, this had been full of linens.  In 2015 it contained some boxes with lights on them and quite a bit of rubber-coated wiring.  Howard ducked under these, pulling out some cleaning supplies and spare power cords that were piled on the floor, and removed a panel to reveal an opening just big enough for a person to wiggle through.

Peggy squeezed in after him, and pulled the items back into lace so he could put the door back.  “What on earth was this room for?” she asked.

“To hide valuables if anybody ever broke in,” Howard replied.  There was a click as the magnets that held the door shut made contact.  “Stuff that’s not secret enough to put in the vault, but too expensive to lose.  I didn’t plan on using it to hide people, but here it is.”

“I can tell,” said Peggy.  The space was only just barely big enough for the two of them, and they had to remain sitting because the ceiling was less than four feet high.  After only a minute or two, Peggy was already feeling uncomfortably warm.  The only light was the tiny bit that got in around the edges of the door.

It was a shadow falling across this that alerted them to somebody passing by.  “I swear I heard something,” said a man’s voice.

“Looks like something just fell over in the router cabinet,” a woman replied.  The light flickered as she set some of the bottles of cleaner upright.  “Somebody really should clean up in there.  I bet some of this stuff dates from when Stark still lived here.”

“I’ll put it on the list,” the man promised sarcastically.

The outer door shut, and then there was no light at all.  Peggy breathed out.

Now they just had to wait.

Long hours passed in the warm darkness.  Footsteps and voices could be heard in the rooms below them, but not enough to tell Peggy what was actually happening.  Howard figured out how to access the building’s wi-fi without needing a password, and found a little game to play on his new phone.  Peggy just shook her head at first, but as time passed ever so slowly, she wound up downloading one for herself as well.  The light from the screen seemed terribly bright in the tiny dark room, and the game’s music came on so loud that Peggy was sure somebody must have heard it in the few seconds it took her to figure out how to turn it off.  Nobody came, though.

At five-thirty the museum closed to the public.  People could be heard closing things up and vacuuming the carpets, and Peggy’s stomach began to rumble.  Coffee and pastries was not a proper lunch.  Why was it so difficult to find a square meal in this future?

Finally, everything seemed to fall quiet.  They waited another half hour, just to be sure, then Peggy very carefully pushed the little door open again.

A few of the bottles fell over when she did so, and she froze – but once again, nobody came to investigate the sound.  She opened the door the rest of the way and reached out an arm to open the closet.  The hallway outside was dim, lit only by sunset coming in the windows, and there was a sound of faint music coming from the direction of the stairs.

“I don’t see anyone,” she told Howard.  “Try to be quiet.”

They crept down the hallway again.  The door of the security room was still open, propped by a rubber wedge, and there was still somebody posted there – this time it was a woman with a dark ponytail, and she wasn’t paying any more attention to the televisions than the previous occupant had been.  She was busy trying to figure out a crochet pattern, and nodding her head in time to loud music with a lot of obscenities in the lyrics.  She had already finished making a handlebar mustache and glasses, which she had attached to the portrait of Howard with scotch tape.

“Peg,” Howard whispered, touching her shoulder.

She looked in the direction he indicated.  At the bottom of the stairs was another security guard, this one a large, middle-aged man with a shaved head.  He wasn’t aware of them, either, but he would be as soon as they made a noise.

“You take him, I’ll take her,” Howard whispered.

Peggy frowned.  “You will?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “I have a plan.”

Peggy had several ideas what the plan might be, and she didn’t like any of them.  “Very well,” she decided.

He stood up to enter the security room, while Peggy snuck down the stairs.  She was halfway there when the guard at the bottom seemed to hear something – he began to turn around, so Peggy jumped on him and wrapped an arm around his neck to cut off his air.  With her other hand, she pulled the gun out of his hip holster.

“Don’t scream,” she whispered.  “Scream, and I blow your brains out.”

The man did not scream.  In fact, he almost immediately collapsed like a rag doll.  Peggy barely managed to catch him before he would have hit the ground with a loud thump.  As big and fierce as he looked, with his bald head and the complicated tattoos all over his arms, he’d fainted dead away when she’d threatened him.  That was helpful for the moment, but it probably wouldn’t be long before he came to.  She needed something to tie him up with.

“Howard?” she asked in a whisper.

She heard voices upstairs, sounding like they were arguing.  If there were more guards in the house, that might attract attention.  She grabbed a piece of cloth that had been draped over the silver wine cooler to keep the dust off and tore it in two – that would do for now to tie up and gag the unconscious man.  Then she left him at the bottom of the stairs and went back up to the security room to see what was going on.

There she found Howard standing over the terrified woman, in the middle of giving her a lecture.  “How am I supposed to be at rest?” he demanded.  “There’s all these people going through my house, touching my stuff!  A guy tried to pull that Indian rug off the wall today, and now here’s you, defacing my portrait!”  He pointed at the mustache stuck to the painting.  “Who is responsible for opening my home to the public?”

“Your s-s-son, Sir,” the woman stammered.

“That traitor!” Howard declared  “You go and tell him that I’m haunting this place, and I’m not leaving until he learns to treat my stuff with some respect!  Now get out of my house!”

“B-but,” the woman said.

“Out!” Howard ordered.  He pointed at the door.

The woman grabbed her ball of yarn and ran for her life.  She darted past Peggy without evening noticing her and thundered down the stairs, only to go sprawling over the unconscious man at the bottom.  When she picked herself up, she saw him lying there and screamed at the sight of what she must have thought was a dead body.  She made for the door as if the devil himself were after her.

“Well done,” Peggy told Howard, hoping he could tell it was anything but a compliment.

“Thank you,” he replied.  Evidently he could not.

If Howard shouting at the woman upstairs hadn’t attracted attention, then the sound of the scream definitely did.  Seconds later, two more guards arrived in the foyer, and found their colleague tied up.  One of them headed up the stairs, and Peggy hit him over the head with the folding metal chair from the security room.  He crumpled.  She jumped over him and tackled the second guard, and soon they had all three men tied up in the room with the televisions.

“Is that all of them?” Howard asked.

Peggy peered at the television screens.  They didn’t show anyone else moving around.  “I think so,” she said, “but the one you scared off is definitely going to call somebody.”

“What’s she gonna do, call the cops and tell them Howard Stark’s ghost is after her?” he scoffed.

“Possibly.  They might believe her, too,” Peggy said.  “Toulouse did say this was an Age of Miracles.”

Peggy shut the door of the room, and Howard kicked the rubber wedge underneath it so it couldn’t be opened from the inside.  Once they were satisfied that was secure, they returned to the library and carefully took the plastic and the Indian rug down from the wall.  Howard had found a screwdriver in the security room, and he used that to score the wallpaper along the gap and chip the plaster away, to find the panel that opened onto the vault.  This closed with a combination dial, rather than the keypads they’d seen in so many places.  Peggy found that a reassuring sign.  If the people who’d turned this building into a museum had found the vault, they might have replaced the lock with something more modern.  As it was, it was more likely to have remained untouched.

Howard tried a couple of combinations, and found one that worked.  Old machinery rumbled, and the wall swung open.

“Ta-da!” Howard proclaimed.

The space beyond was totally dark.  Peggy reached in and felt around for a light switch, but couldn’t find one, so she turned on her phone and used the bright screen as a flashlight.

The last time she’d seen Howard’s vault it had been empty, with a gaping hole in the floor.  Now it was only almost empty.  In the middle of the floor was a small pile of dusty boxes with a sheet thrown over them.  Peggy went in and lifted this, then opened the top box.  It contained only one item, a suspiciously familiar one.

“Isn’t this your over-enthusiastic ‘back massager’?” she asked Howard.

He joined her and picked it up to look at.  “So it is.”

“You told me you were going to destroy all those things,” Peggy reminded him.

“I was.  I did,” he said.  “Most of them, at least.  There were a few I thought I could still do something useful with.”

Of course there were.  “And did you?” she asked.

Howard looked at the object in his hand, entirely unaltered from the last time Peggy had seen it.  “I guess not.”

She shook her head and went on to the second box.

There were books, many of them with equations and notes scribbled in the margins.  Other boxes contained devices Peggy could not even begin to guess the purpose of – even Howard looked puzzled by some of them.  Finally, on the bottom, there was a very unremarkable cardboard filing box with the old Stark Industries logo on the side, full of shredded paper and softly glowing crystals.

One of these had to be what they were looking for, Peggy was sure of that.  If the HYDRA people hadn’t found die Glocke yet, it as because it was among the crystals given to Howard for study.  Which one, though?  There had to be a dozen in here.

“We’ll just have to take them all,” she decided.

“Give me a few days,” Howard promised.  “I’ll figure out how to read them.”

“Why read them when we can just destroy them all?” Peggy asked.

Howard grimaced.  “That might take a few days, too.  Remember what Samberley said about them vibrating?  I wouldn’t want to try to just smash them.”  

Peggy tried to lift the box, but found it very heavy – the crystals weighed as much as an equal volume of glass or quartz, which made them a little much for a single person to carry.  She set it down again and started taking crystals out.  They could each carry a few.  That would make it easier to slip out, as well.

At the very bottom of the box, one of the crystals had a string tied around it.  When Peggy pulled it out from under the shredded paper, it jingled – at the end of the string was a little Christmas bell.  She smiled as she realized they weren’t going to have to test every crystal after all.

“Die Glocke,” she murmured.  The bell.

“There’s something else in there,” said Howard.  He fished around in the paper and pulled out a little leather-bound notebook, and flipped through a few pages of it before closing it and tucking it inside his jacket.  “I’ll want to look at that in some better light.”

Peggy tucked the Glocke crystal into her purse and stood up.  “We should do something with the rest of them, too,” she said.  They probably only contained more cows, but there was always the possibility that the SSR had deliberately given Howard the crystals they thought were more dangerous, in order to hide them.  Colonel Phillips had established the policy of the SSR keeping everything, because he thought things were better in their hands than somebody else’s – but Howard knew, and Peggy was beginning to conclude, that there were certain things that shouldn’t be in any hands at all.  These crystals were one of those.

In that moment of silence, as both of them tried to think of what they were going to do with the rest, Peggy heard the sirens.

“Oh, bugger,” she said.  “I told you.  I told you she was going to call somebody!”

“All right, all right – let’s just take the crystals and get out of here,” said Howard.

A light fell on the wall behind them.

Peggy turned to look, and found herself staring right into a flashlight beam.  After she’d spent the afternoon and evening in near darkness, it was blinding.  She blinked into it, waiting for her eyes to adjust, but it was what she heard, rather than what she saw, that told her who was outside.

“Agent Carter and Howard Stark!” said the voice of Sutcliffe from the hotel in London.  “I don’t usually change my mind, but I’m glad I didn’t shoot you!  Let’s see those hands!”

Peggy set her purse on the floor and put her hands up.  Next to her, Howard did the same.  Would they be searched?  Peggy tried not to look at the purse, keeping her eyes instead on the crystals they’d left sitting on the floor.

“I knew they’d be useful,” said a second voice.  Peggy turned her head to the front again, and saw that Sutcliffe had around a dozen men with him.  Most of them were in dark uniforms, holding guns, but one was a short, stocky little fellow in a button-down shirt and trousers.  It was Zola.

They were right back where they’d started – in a walk-in safe with HYDRA men between them and freedom.  Only this time, Toulouse would not be available to rescue them.

[lordshaxxion]

All for Edix!!

omg i swear u guys hate me holy shit. all under a cut again

Where were you rezzed?

“In a grave outside of a long-abandoned village. Lots of burnt-out buildings, lots of Fallen arc spears around. It looked like there had been a battle there forever ago.”

How long ago was it?

“Well, I was a child when I was rezzed, and I’m in what would be a mortal late-twenties now. So a long time ago.”

Did you have anything in your pockets?

“No, but I was buried with a stuffed bunny toy.”

What was your first week alive like?

“Stressful. I was just a child and I couldn’t defend myself, so my Ghost had to ping the Vanguard on the emergency frequency for a rescue. We hid under a rusted-out piece of metal for a day before Zavala, my dad, arrived.”

How did you react to your new role as a Guardian?

“When I was old enough to understand and start training to be a Guardian, I thought it was great. To be able to stand up for what was right and to defend the last of humanity, it felt right. Now though? I just want to be left alone to study my plants and raise Kilgharrah, my Ahamkara.”

Do you have any regrets?

“That I wasn’t able to save Cayde in the Prison of Elders.”

How did you get your name?

“My dad named me in my first life. When I was brought back to the Tower after being resurrected, he recognised me immediately and reinstated my name and got to raise me again.”

Does your ghost have a name?

“Spiro. We found audio logs about an old game with the same name when we were exploring, and he liked the name so we used it. Turns out we spelled it wrong until we found a copy of the game, but I don’t care. It’s cute.”

What is your ghost like?

“Spiro is a worrier. But at the same time, he’s got more common sense than I do and he’s really good at talking me out of bad moods. I don’t know what I’d do without him, irrespective of being a Guardian.”

How do you feel about the last city and the vanguard?

“The Last City is my home and the Vanguard are my family, but they need work on how they operate since Cayde died. Dad’s become more distant and Ikora is more unpredictable and I worry for the both of them.”

What’s your favourite place to go?

“Io, to see Asher, or to just hole up in my garden or greenhouse and continue my studies.”

Do you participate in strikes or the crucible?

“Strikes. I rarely go into the Crucible. While I respect Lord Shaxx, it’s distracting hearing him shout at me all the time in Crucible matches and I get stressed out faster when he does. I know it’s meant to be motivational, but I don’t like it a whole lot.”

How do you celebrate the holidays?

“I spend it with dad, or with Artie when she returns to the Tower from her ventures. I’ve tried repeatedly to persuade Asher to come to the Tower for Dawning at least, but he isn’t interested. So I split my time between home and Io for him so he isn’t lonely out there.”

Who is your favourite NPC and who is your least favourite?

“…. I’m fond of Asher. Everyone calls him an asshole and an angry prick, but he has his reasons for being like that and I believe that underneath it all he’s a charming man. That said, I don’t like Petra. She puts too much stock in her Queen, if she can even be called that anymore, to the point it blinds her to Mara’s failings. I could stand there until I’m bluer in the face telling her this, and she’d still find reason to call me a liar.”

Where do you sleep/call home?

“I have my own apartment in the Tower, but sometimes I do just go back to dad’s apartment if trying to cope by myself gets to be too much. I’m lucky that he always welcomes me there, and it’s good for him too for me to be there. Dad doesn’t exactly have a concept of sleep, so if I’m there it means he can try and rest.”

Do you have any pets or companions?

“I may or may not have an Ahamkara called Kilgharrah, three cockatiels called Bert, Den and Dor and two cats, Nebula and Merlin.”

(side note, the cockatiels are named after my nan’s cockatiel - Bert - and my late grampy and nan - Dennis and Doreen

Does anyone live with you?

“Aside from the actual horde of pets, not really no. Artie sometimes stays over if she’s gotten in trouble, or for other reasons. Other than that, no. It’s just me.”

How do you unwind or comfort yourself?

“I hole up in my garden and greenhouse for days at a time if things have been bad. It’s not a great attempt at comfort, but it does help a little. Normally though I just sit down in the evenings with my crochet and make a bunch of stuff.”

What would truly break you?

“… losing those important to me, or getting left behind by them for something or someone better. It’s… it’s a scary thought and I try not to think about it.”

Most embarrassing moment?

“Having to explain to Asher why I wasn’t available on Io for a couple of days after my top surgery. He took it really well, and was fully supportive in his own way, but it was still embarrassing to have to explain.”

Any cherished memories?

“Meeting Kilgharrah and his mother for the first time beneath Io. While his mother died shortly after, she was the most breathtaking sight I’ve ever seen. A real Ahamkara, in all her glory, just sat there. Her wings and feathers and scales were just incredible and were largely immaculate, despite being hidden where she was for so long. Another cherished memory is meeting Artemis for the first time. She’s been a dear friend, even if she has her own dangerous endeavours. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

artie is @slumberblues​‘s

What was your highest and/or lowest point?

“After the incident regarding Crota and how I got my scars, I was at my lowest point. I wouldn’t eat, hardly spoke. I got caught apparently performing Hive rituals in my bedroom on three different occasions before the Vanguard realised there were shards of Crota’s soul crystal lodged in my eye.

My highest point? That would have to be when my transitioning was finally finished with and I could be me.”

Views on the enemy races?

“I don’t believe the Fallen to be our enemy, despite the fighting I think they could be our biggest ally.. The Vex and Hive, and by proxy the Taken, are perhaps our biggest threats and need to be dealt with first. The Cabal are just pathetic and the Scorn are abominations.”

Which enemy race is your most/least favourite?

“The Fallen are most interesting to me. I’ve tried to communicate with Captains on various occasions, before some Guardians came blundering in and slaughtered them for no damn reason. I hate the Hive and the Vex.”

What’s your role in a fireteam? (Tank, support, buff/healer, comic relief? Or are you the dead weight?)

“Dead weight.”

“Healer, Edix.”

“Thanks, Spiro.”

Do you have any mentors/mentees?

“The commander is my mentor and my father. I hope I don’t end up with any mentees, I’d be useless to them.”

What is your favourite weapon type/favourite weapon?

“Better Devils is a good handcannon and I will hold onto it forever. After that, I really like Thunderlord. Handcannons, auto rifles, shotguns and machine guns are the ones I prefer to use when I have to. Although, Eternity’s Edge is a good sword on the rare occasion I use it.”

Do you play Gambit?

“No.”

How do you feel about the Drifter?

“I don’t trust him. I’d like to, I hear about his intentions a lot and how he means well for the most part, but it’s just the interactions with the primevals and Taken that concern me.”

If you could be any class/subclass (not just your own), what would you be and why?

“I’d like to be better at using Ward of Dawn. I didn’t realise until lately that I actually had that ability, but it isn’t as strong as dad’s.”

What are your thoughts on the Nine?

“I don’t like them, since their whole business is shady in and of itself, but their aesthetic is cool.”

Any secret crushes or relationships we need to know about?

“…. noooooo…..”

“He likes Asher.”

“Spiro!”

Does your Ghost approve, or haven’t you told them?

“Of course I know, Edix spends a lot of time in his head and I can always hear his thoughts unless he really doesn’t want me to, which is rare. He’s just embarrassed to admit to it and thinks it couldn’t possibly come to anything, given Asher’s nature.”

You’re about to go off-planet on assignment, and will only be able to eat protein rations and food gel for a month. What’s your last meal?

“Anything my dad cooks. Despite all the jokes everyone makes about the commander, he does make really good meals.”

If you could take over any NPC’s job, who would it be and why?

“I don’t know. I think it’s expected that I take up overseeing the strikes and nightfalls from my dad, but I don’t think he’ll relinquish his duty that easily. Asher’s job is interesting, but I fear the day he… y’know. I don’t like to think about that.”

What is the most beautiful sight you’ve seen?

“I’m not sure. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful things, varying from places to things. Although, I think when I caught the rare blooming of a flower on Venus is pretty good.”

Do you have a favourite colour?

“Blues are nice colours.”

Show us your favourite outfit!

“I don’t have one”

What’s your favourite shader?

“The Io shaders are nice, even though people say they’re not. Some of the ones Calus offers are pretty good too, though I don’t really like things that are overly ostentatious.”

If you could make a wish to an Ahamkara for anything - no strings attached - what would you wish for?

“I’d never ask Kilgharrah for anything when he’s old enough to actually grant wishes, but I suppose I’d just ask to be able to help people more than I already can.”

[whiteflowergirldresses]

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[knight-of-heart-and-art]

==>

SO, I have written 5,556 words of Homestuck fanfic, from an AU where there's no Sburb, Cal is human and Dave's (probably-younger) brother. I suck so bad at summaries so just have a few warnings...child abuse is mentioned, Cal gets hurt pretty badly in this one, it does end well I promise. Forgive me any typos (or tell me about them; I hate typos.) This might be bad, I have no clue. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you like reading it.

 CAL: dave  CAL: do you think bro hates us

  You stare at the message for a minute before even trying to think of an answer. He's not wrong, no; your older brother is an asshole and even though you never really actually formed the thought all the way before, you think that yeah, he probably hates both you and Cal. Not that you'd ever say that. But then again, you wouldn't have guessed that Cal would ever say it either, but here it is glowing orange on your laptop's screen.

  Something's up. Knowing Bro, something very not-good. But you still think for another minute and type out an answer to your brother.

 TG: dunno if i can disagree on that one man  TG: whats making you bring it up though

  He doesn't answer for a couple seconds, long enough for you to hope that this is something little and stupid.

  Nope.

 CAL: um  CAL: he threw me off the roof dave

  Goddamnit to fucking hell...you can't think for a moment for fury and fear. This is bad, so bad, worse than Bro's usual brand of fuckery, and you don't know what the hell to do. Other than ask a stupid question.

 TG: holy fuck cal  TG: are you okay

 CAL: no  CAL: no im not  CAL: i think i broke some things...

  "Fuck." You whisper it this time, trying to keep your hands steady as you type.    TG: ill be right there man

 CAL: please  CAL: dave i think im going to die

  That almost locks you up. You can't even think about that possibility, it doesn't exist, it can't...so you shake your head, typing four more words before shoving your laptop back and heading for the door.

 TG: you wont. i swear.

  Cal's outside on the ground; it's obvious that he tried to pull himself a little out of the way, managed to get over to the wall and half-lean against it, curling up on himself. Even before you get close enough to really see, you can tell that it's bad.

  He raises his head when you kneel down next to him and try to smile, but winces as soon as he moves, making a softly pained noise. There's blood and makeup smeared across his face, and oh god but he looks scared. "Hey, Dave," he says quietly.

  You're scared too. You can't let him see that. "Hey, Cal." You almost ask if he's all right, not because you think there's any chance that the answer will be yes but simply because you need to say something. Thankfully, you have enough sense to bite those words back and say something marginally less idiotic and more helpful. "How bad is it?"

  "I—" Cal shifts a little, blue eyes filling with tears that he blinks back. "...bad. My leg's not right, my ribs—Dave, it hurts..."

  "Yeah. I'm—" going to cry, but don't say that, don't think that. "Cal, I'm going to pick you up, alright? I'll try not to hurt you, but..." But you will. And you can see he knows that.

  "Dave, it's okay, just." He holds his arms up to you, gasping in pain. "C'mon. Please."

  This is so fucking bad.

  It's hard to find a way to hold him that doesn't seem to make anything worse. You end up cradling him awkardly, trying to move slow and even and not let his obviously-broken left leg move, trying not to put any pressure on his chest at all. He gasps when you lift him, clutching at your arm before shuddering and forcing himself to lie limply in your arms, squeezing his eyes shut as you carry him back into the house.

  He doesn't move at all until you set him down carefully on the couch. When you start to pull away he whimpers, opening his eyes to look up at you and grabbing at your arms.

  "Shh, Cal. It's okay." Oh god that's a lie. Such a lie. "It's going to be okay." That one isn't. You hope it's not. You blink behind your shades, pushing them up on top of your head with one hand before reaching to unbutton his shirt. "I need to look, okay? I'm not going to touch it yet, I swear."

  He starts to nod, but winces at his own motion and goes still again. "O-okay." Cal's still holding onto your forearms, panic-tight, and it's hard to fumble the buttons undone, but you're not going to ask him to let go.

  It takes you a minute to get his shirt open. When you do, you wish you weren't seeing this. There's bruising across most of his chest, deep ugly marks the color of plums and streaked with brighter red from where his skin's split open over ribs that don't line up right anymore.

  "I—" God, you can't fix this. And your voice wants to crack, break, stop altogether as you force your eyes up from Cal's torso to his terrified face. You swallow hard, reaching up to wipe some of the mess off his face before pushing him gently to lie down on the couch. "Cal, I'm calling 911, alright? They'll send an ambulance, come get you."

  "Us, Dave—they can't leave you here, he'll—" His eyes go wide at the thought, and he tries to sit back up, but you shush him gently, holding him down.

  "Yeah, man. I'm not leaving you. Promise." You slip your hand into his pocket, getting his phone and stepping out of the living room to the bedroom as you dial.

  Funny. They really do say, "911, what is your emergency?" just like on TV. Not that you let the lady on the other end finish her sentence. As soon as the dial tone stops, you're talking, keeping your voice low enough that Cal won't hear and reeling out the words faster and smoother than any rap you've ever done.

  "I need an ambulance, right fucking now, my—my Bro just pushed Cal, my brother, pushed him off the roof and he's hurt so fucking bad, I can't fix it this time and you need to come and get him, get us before Bro comes home—" You reel off the address, some part of you aware that you're not giving her an opportunity to ask the important-ass questions she must have, that you haven't taken a breath since you hit the call button, but you can't stop. Can't even slow down. "This isn't a joke, okay, Cal's hurt and I'm so fucking afraid that Bro'll come back and hurt him again, fucking kill him, please, just—just—"

  You're out of breath, close to tears and even closer to losing it. You need to get back to Cal, now. The line's still open and the operator's talking, but you drop the phone, biting down on your lip and taking a few breaths before you think you can look calm enough to not scare him worse before going back into the main room, kneeling down next to the couch, and reaching for his hand.

  "They're coming, man." You hope they are. No—if there's a God, he's got to hear you praying that the woman on the other end of the line took you seriously.

  He nods, and his fingers close around yours as he looks up at you, but other than that he doesn't move. You cant to just pull him him into your arms, hold him and sit and wait for someone to come and pull both of you out of this little piece of hell, but there's other things you still need to think about.

  "We, uh..." You have to swallow because your voice wants to crack; this isn't what you want to think about, even if you've considered leaving for years. "We're not coming back here, Cal. I told the 911 lady what happened, that—that Bro did this, they're not...is there anything you want to take with you? Tell me and I'll grab it for you, alright?"

  He nods again, very slightly, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment before he answers. "My—my makeup bag, please, my gold necklace, the...bear you got me forever ago, he's on my bed...I'm sorry, Dave." The words all come out in one rush, broken by quick hesitations, and you're halfway to your feet before the last one registers.

  "Hey, no." You stop, kneeling back down and taking his hands again. "This isn't your deal, okay? You did nothing wrong, he's a fucking bastard for doing this to you and you don't have anything to apologise for, this isn't your fault, Cal, I swear."

  "It is m-my fault," he says, and oh god his eyes are full of tears, if he cries now you don't know if you can keep faking that you're not scared for him. "I could have—should have caught the edge, fought back better—"

  "Shh." You say it as firmly as you can, laying one finger across his lips until he quiets. "No, man. You know Bro. He doesn't stop, just...puts shit off. If it hadn't happened now, it would've tomorrow. Or next week, a couple months from now, maybe to me or maybe to you. It could've been even worse. This is his fault, not yours, and this is the last time he's gonna get to do this to either of us."

  When you bring up the possibility that it could have been you that went off the roof—maybe should have been, although you don't say that—Cal's eyes go wider and he shakes his head, wincing in pain at the movement. He doesn't protest your logic, though, and when you pull your hands away to get to your feet he lets you go.

  In the bedroom, you grab your backpack, stuffing some of Cal's clothes and some of your own into it before adding Cal's makeup and necklace from the dresser, putting them carefully in the side pocket. The bear isn't going to fit, you can see that immediately; you'll carry it.

  Is there anything else? Anything you want to take out of this hellhole?

  Your laptop. Take that, and the charger and shit. Get your crochet hooks, at least one ball of yarn—Bro's always hated that you're better with yarn than soft fabric, that you can't or won't help him with the smuppets, and that alone is reason enough to bring the hobby along with you. Your shades—but they're already on you, always are, just pushed up on top of your hair at the moment.

  There isn't anything else. Just the few items you already chose, and Cal. That's all you want or need.

  You scoop up the bear, shoulder the bag, and go back to him. "You sure that's all?" If he says no, you have a little room, you can carry more.

  But Cal nods, and—to your horror—shoves himself up to a sitting position, face twisting and going dead white as the movement does something worse to already-fucked-up ribs. "I—Dave it hurts, it hurts, I'm going to die, I don't—"

  "Fuck, Cal!" Does he hear your voice crack on his name as you grab his shoulders and push him down as gently as you can? "Shh, okay, f-fuck, lie still, they're coming, I s-swear they are—" And that's not a wishful hope or a comforting lie; you can hear a siren from somewhere outside. "You're not going to die, just—l-lie still."

  Goddamn your stammer. Your own voice is betraying you; how can you calm him down when you can't pass for calm yourself?

  He's sobbing now, shaking and clinging to your hands, mascara making darker trails down his pale face. Even as you try to calm him, he's running a half-hysterical litany of panic, pain, and fear, telling you that he's hurting, he's scared, and he doesn't want to die, and you can't even tell him you don't want him to die either, you just have to keep promising him you won't even when you're terrified that he will.

  God, you're so scared.

  You can't help but cringe when the door bangs open behind you—you know it's probably people coming to help, but if it is Bro then you're dead. You might be able to slow him down a little, shield Cal for a minute, but there's no way that you won't both pay for it—but the hands that come down on your shoulders and pull you back from Cal are so fucking gentle, and the voice attatched to them is quiet and unthreatening.

  It's still hard to force your own rising panic down enough to listen. But you manage to do it, as two more men—paramedics, they'll fix Cal, they have to—push past the two of you and lean over Cal.

  "He's going to be all right, son, you just need to come over here and give them a little room to—"

  Cal screams, though, as you let yourself be pulled away, a high sound of almost pure fear, and suddenly your ability to think is totally gone. You lunge back towards him, ready to fight to keep him safe, and you probably would have tackled one of the paramedics if the man who's trying to calm you down didn't grab your wrist, hauling you back and wrapping his arms around you to contain you as you struggle.

  He's strong. Maybe as strong as Bro, definitely strong enough to hold you, but he doesn't use it to hurt you. Just holds onto you, waiting for you to stop fighting. And after a minute you do, going limp and listening to him again, not taking your eyes off the men who are currently trying to give Cal a shot.

  "It's all right, calm down...they won't hurt him. What's your name, son? And his. That'll make it easier for us to help you, you know. We are going to help you, that's why we're here—"

  "D-Dave." Your voice sounds wrong to your own ears. Shaky, and hoarse. "I'm Dave, h-he's Cal, fuckin' let me go..." Your eyes are blurry. So blurry. You think you might be crying.

  The man holding you loosens his grip, letting you slip away and bend down to retrieve the bear from where it fell, dragging one sleeve across your eyes to deal with some of the tears there. Yeah, definitely crying.

  "Okay, Dave. You need to come to the hospital with us, all right? Is there anyone else here with you?" His voice is still soft and calming, but you want to scream.

  "F-fucking Bro. He doesn't count, fuck h-him." You look back to Cal, and the two men putting him on a stretcher. He's still crying, trying to jerk away, but whatever they gave him is making him quieter and slower. "He—he did this, fucking left, I don't—I'm not leaving Cal, okay, you can't make me." They're carrying him out. You need to follow him, but the soft-voiced man catches your shoulder and holds you back for another minute.

  "Dave, calm down. It's all right, your brother will be fine. No one's going to try to make you leave him." He meets your eyes for a good five seconds before letting you go and pushing you gently towards the door. "Go on. Get up in the back with him. He'll feel safer with you."

  You want to thank him, you really do. But your voice is, for now, gone. So you nod, and you run after Cal, following the paramedics' path out the door and climbing up into the ambulance next to him.   If anything, he looks worse, makeup smeared across his face as he sobs weakly, but he quiets a little as you slip your hand into his and lean over him. It's hard to find a reassuring smile, but you force it onto your face for him.

  "Gonna be all right, Cal." It's easier to keep your voice steady when you're quiet. "I promise, man, you're gonna be okay. I love you."

  Whatever they gave him is strong enough to knock him out; his eyes are already glazed and half-shut. But he tightens his grip on your hand, and he whispers back to you before he goes all the way limp. "...love you, Dave."

  He doesn't let go of your hand. And you cling to him, tuning out everything else from the soft fur of the bear in your arm to the paramedics doing god knows what around you. None of it matters, except Cal.

  You lose a little time, maybe. Or the hospital's closer than you thought it was. Either way, all of a sudden the ambulence door is open again and someone is trying to get you to let go of Cal's hand.     And of course, they're talking. About how you need to let him go because you can't go into the operating room with him, how it's going to be okay and nothing else is going to happen, how you're both safe, and god you don't want to let him go but if you don't they can't fix him. And if you don't, they'll never stop talking. So you reluctantly release his hand, turning to the person who's talking to you.

  This one's a woman, tall and dark-haired and a hell of a lot less threatening than anyone else you've seen today. Her eyes are very green when you force yourself to look at her face, which reminds you that your shades are still on top of your head instead of over your own eyes where they belong.

  You could pull them down. Or you can just clutch Cal's bear protectively and keep looking at her, waiting for her to either mention your fucked-up eyes or look away.

  You choose the latter.

  She doesn't do either thing you expected, anyway. After a moment, she puts one hand on your shoulder, gently leading you a different way than they took Cal, into the building. "He's going to be all right, Dave," she reassures you, and her gentle tone makes you want to cry again.

  You won't do that.

  "He fucking b-better be," you answer her grimly, squeezing the bear harder. "You people—you n-need to keep Bro away from him, us, I-I'll kill him if I ever see him again..." Some threat—your skinny self against the man who's spent years proving he can beat the shit out of you, but you'll damn well try.

  "He won't come near either of you," the woman says soothingly. "You're both safe now. Can you come talk to a police officer? Tell him what happened? It's all right if you can't yet—"

  "Fuck yes I can." Bro would have knocked you across the room for interrupting. Doesn't matter. If you don't talk now, you don't know if you're going to be able to. "So long as it means that fucker goes somewhere I never have to see him again, I'll tell you anything you need to know."

  She blinks. You don't know what sent that quick wave of surprised pity across her face, unless it's your swearing. Maybe you should apologise for that...but she doesn't seem angry, and she doesn't wait for you to, just nods and guides you down the hall to a room with a man in a uniform that's supposed to mean safety but just kind of fills you with unease.

  But you still talk. He asks questions occasionally, writing shit down even though there's a digital recorder running on the table between the two of you, but mostly both he and the woman just sit and listen to you tell everything you can think of about what Bro's been doing to you and Cal for as long as you can remember. About ten minutes in, you're overcome by a choking, suffocating knowlege that they don't believe you, though. That Bro was right, all those times he told you no one would believe a kid like you. And you have to stop, despite yourself.

  The cop frowns at you—in confusion or anger, you can't even tell—and you struggle to get your breathing enough under control to get out another sentence.

  "I'm n-not lying." He thinks you are. He has to. Bro's the worst fucking person in the world, but he's never wrong about people. "I'm not, h-he—I—"

  You can't prove any of this. There's no reason anyone will ever believe you. You don't have proof.

  Except you do. You have yourself.

  You let go of Cal's bear for a second, tucking it to one side in the chair with you, and pull up the hem of your shirt enough to show the scarred lacework that Bro's made of your torso. There's nothing all that new, nothing fresh—he's been almost better than usual lately, at least with the physical shit, at least until this shit with Cal—but the marks are something tangible, something more than your words about katanas and puppets and other bad things.

  In the chair next to you, the woman makes a soft sound, but you don't take your eyes off the officer.

  His eyes went wide when you pulled your shirt up, but you can't really read what emotion is on his face—you're beginning to realize that while it's always been hard to read the microexpressions that are all that slips through Bro's mask of stoicism, it's just as hard to read other people's faces when they're not trying to hide anything.

  You're going to cry.

  You want Cal.

  You don't even realize that you're completely frozen there, breathing panic-fast and holding your shirt up helplessly, until the cop leans forward to reach for something under the table. You can't help but flinch at the movement, but all he does is extricate a box of tissues from somewhere and slide it across the table for you.

  "No one's questioning your story, son—"

  "D-Dave." You pull out a tissue and wipe at your eyes with it, not so much because you're actually crying as because you don't want to see them looking at you. "My n-name's Dave, please fuckin' use it..."

  God, you probably shouldn't swear at a cop.

  "...Dave. All right." There's a definite pause there, but he doesn't sound angry. You don't think. "No one thinks you're lying. Your brother—"

  "Cal." You keep worrying at your eyes with one hand, reaching down to pull the bear closer with the other.

  "Cal. His injuries speak fairly well for what happened. We just needed you to confirm what happened, all right? No one's blaming you."

  He believes you. And you didn't even know how scared you were that no one would until he told you he did—suddenly, you can breathe.

  And of course, the first breath is a sob, no matter how how hard you try to choke it back. At least you're already holding a tissue.

  One of them—you don't know whether it's the cop or the dark-haired woman—puts a hand on your shoulder, but takes it away when you twitch away and wordlessly shake your head. That isn't what you need right now, no, you don't want comforting touches unless they're from Cal, but he isn't here and you're not with him right now. His bear will have to be enough for this moment.

  And it is. But it's still a good few minutes before you can crumple the tissue into a wad and look up. "...s-sorry."

  He sighs, shaking his head. "It's all right. You did fine, Dave...I think we have enough here."

  It isn't until the woman comes over to offer you a hand up that you realize what he's saying. Yes, you can go. And no, you didn't fuck this up.

  You exhale shakily, snag another tissue, and let her lead you out.

  There are more people who want to talk to you, but at this point you can't really particpate in any of these conversations. You nod at their questions and you manage to look at most of them (and somehow, miraculously, no one says anything about the fact that your eyes are the color of blood, you couldn't handle explaining that right now), and maybe you soak up what they're saying even if you're not exactly listening—but really, this is just noise.

  Again, you lose track of time, because you have no idea how long it's been since this whole thing started. You just know that you're so fucking tired by the time that a second officer—a different one from the one who you told about Bro—leads you into an actual hospital room, this one with a bed.

  And Cal in the bed. He's unconscious, bandaged up and hooked to about a dozen contraptions and monitors, and they've washed all the makeup off his face, but it's him. And you can see the slow rise and fall of his breath even from across the room.

  He's okay. Or he will be, definitely. The man who brought you in is saying something, but you turn to him to ask a question that probably has nothing to do with whatever he's talking about.

  "You're not going to break us up, right?" Cal will ask that, as soon as he does wake up, and you need to be able to tell him that you can stay with him and not be lying or unsure. "He's gonna be okay, you're not going to make me leave him?"

  There's enough panic and fear in your voice that the man pats your shoulder comfortingly and looks at you with an expression that's probably also supposed to be comforting but, to you, speaks of a godawful fucking pity. "Don't worry," he says quickly, quite obviously trying to soothe you, "you two won't get split up. And you don't have to worry about your brother—"

  "Bro." You're pretty sure that's what he means. Not Cal.

  "Yes, your—uh—Bro. We already have a warrant out for his arrest, and just to be safe we're putting a guard on this toom." His hand is still on your shoulder; he gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Do you want someone to come sit with you two?"

   ...good question, but you find yourself shaking your head without even really considering it. "We're okay. I—thank you." Don't cry again. Cal's right there. You're okay.

  The man smiles at you, pats your shoulder one more time, and leaves, closing the door quietly behind himself.

  You take a good minute and a half to just stand over Cal, reassuring yourself that he's there. Yes, he's banged up; yes, he's unconscious and still looks so fucking tired without the mask of his makeup; but he's alive. And he's here. And Bro's not. And that's so fucking good.

  There's a chair in the room, a surprisingly comfortable one, but it's too far away from the bed and weighs probably more than you do. It takes you another couple of minutes of shoving and whispered cussing to shift it the few feet over (and it's not until you have it where you need it that it occurs to you that you could've just stepped outside and asked for help. Goddamnit.) The backpack of stuff from the apartment goes under the bed, you curl up in the chair and take Cal's hand and pull the bear close, and you close your eyes.

  He's still out, will be for awhile. And you're so fucking tired that it's only a few minutes before you are too.

  Usually you have enough bad dreams to wake you up or at least make sleeping a less than desireable experience, but today you get nothing but deep blackness. Maybe it's the quiet of this room, maybe it's because right now there's no reason to be afraid of shit, maybe it's because you've reached the limit of your availiable emotional expenditure for the day. Whatever it is, you needed that sleep, and you're thankful for it.

  Anyway, the next thing you're conscious of is Cal's hand tightening down on yours. It takes you a second to pry your eyes open, but when you do, you see that he's turned his head enough to smile at you.

  "Hey, Dave."

  "Cal." You can feel the grin spreading across your face as you squeeze his hand, leaning forward to settle the bear next to him. "Welcome back, man."

  "'m glad I am." He blinks, and shakes his head a bit, this time without flinching in pain. "Wait, no. I'm glad you're here, honestly."

  "Both are good, man. Hey, you want some more good news?" Tell him now, before he gets worked up enough to ask.

  "Mhm." He gives you a slightly confused look, cuddling the bear with his free arm. "Any of that'd be appreciated, yeah."

  "Three things." You hold up three fingers, ticking one down with each point. "One, you're going to be okay. Two, they're not even going to try to split us up, I asked. Three, there's a fuckin' warrant out for Bro and he's going to jail for this shit, Cal, I swear."

  Cal's eyes get a little wider with each piece of info, and when you finish he actually laughs, looking up at you. "Heck yes—Dave, I'd hug you but I'm scared I'll set things off if I move—"

  "Shh." You grin, and lace your fingers through his instead of just holding onto his hand, squeezing gently. "Finger hug."

  That gets another relieved laugh. "Finger hug," he agrees, squeezing back. You don't know when the last time you saw him so happy and excited was. "We're never going to see him again, Dave, right? He's never going to touch you again, either of us, whatever else happens he's gone and that's, that's—" Cal runs out of breath, leaning his head back and gripping your hand tighter. His eyes are filling with tears again and he's shaking just a little, but he's laughing softly and breathlessly at the same time.

  You lean forward, pulling your sleeve down enough to wipe the tears away before they can get a chance to fall. "Yeah, man, you're done with him, I promise...I might have to, like, go point him out in court, tell 'em that he's the fucker who did this, but we're done. And I'm staying with you, promise."

  He blinks when you mention that, working his hand free of yours and carefully pushing himself up to lean against the pillows. "...yeah. I could do that, testify against him." Before you have a chance to tell him that there's no way in hell that you'd make him do that, he adds, "Besides, I've, uh...been collecting evidence." Cal turns the bear over, picking at the seam in its back until it unravels and reaching inside. There's a soft crinkle of plastic as he holds up a baggie with a few memory cards and a thin sheaf of photos in it.

  "Oh my god, man." You take the baggie, sliding the pics out and leafing through them. It's very hard not to wince; Cal somehow got pics of Bro at his very worst. You shake your head and put them back in the bag. "I can't believe you have these."

  "There's more on the cards." He holds out his hand for the bag, and you give it back. "I-I copied them all off of his cameras, I had to look up how to do it on your laptop but I learned and...I've been trying to figure out what to do with them for awhile now."

  He looks like he can't decide whether or not he's allowed to be proud of managing this, but you know that you're proud of him. "Holy fuck, Cal—you're a fucking genius, you're amazing—" And another thought occurs to you, this one almost enough to freeze the grin off your face. "And goddamn but I'm so glad he never caught you."

  "He almost did a couple times." Cal nods, tucking the bag back into the hole and giving the bear an affectionate pat. "But he didn't know I could sew this well, so he never looked in here...I can't sew him back up now, though."

  "He'll get sewn up, don't worry." You pat the bear, then lean over to kiss Cal's forehead. "By the best doctor here, if I have anything to say about it. And I'm going to crochet him a hat, and get both of you fuckin' medals."

  Cal smiles in delight when you pat the bear, and blows you an air kiss as you pull back from him. "Really? You'd do that for Sir Tabor?"

  "Hell fucking yes I will. Make him a whole new wardrobe, any colors you want just as soon as I can get more yarn." You touch the bear again, gently, and reach up to smooth Cal's hair back from his face. "He deserves it, you deserve it...so fucking proud of you, Cal. Love you so much, you know that?"

  He nods a bit, pressing against your hand. "I love you too, Dave...I'm. Still a little scared, maybe a lot scared, okay?"

  "I know. That's okay." This time you don't have to fake the smile. "We're gonna be alright, man. I promise."

  "I believe you."

  And that's the best thing in the world.

[croggle]

The sad passing of a beautiful black-white cat

The birth of Maya the crochet cat

Hello there! I'm addressing you on a rather sad note, so for all of you who aren't good at stomaching stuff like this I'm advising you not to read the following post... I need to talk about this openly and I want you to learn something from this story...

At the 22nd of February, so four days ago a cat in my neighbourhood died in front of my very eyes.

I was just walking home from the bus station and then an old lady scared that cat. That poor little thing wanted to run down the sidewalk but then she saw me who walked just behind that lady. I don’t know if I subconciously walked right towards that cat – because… you know I’ve always gotten paralyzed whenever I saw a cat… I just love them so much – or if the cat just didn’t see any other way to run but forward… towards the street.

I immediately turned towards the street in order to check for a car because in the night there can be pretty high traffic in that specific street and the drivers aren’t exactly what you’d call careful. They more often than not drive to fast and irresponsible… and I don’t want to presume but I think this was the exact same case… maybe that driver even did it on purpose.

I’ve often seen how cats ran over the streets and how the drivers immediately adapted to the situation. I’ve expected it to happen this time too… I’ve expected to be able to breathe again after the cat safely crossed the street. But that wouldn’t happen. When the cat got caught by the car everything went black and fuzzy. I couldn’t check for the number plate because I was occupied trying not to faint. When I could see again I saw a scene of pure horror: The cat was fighting for her dear life… everything was full of blood and so was the cat… Her tail was wagging uncontrollably and she trembled… I wanted to comfort her… save her. But the only thing I could do, was saying “oh no, oh no” and scream and cry. I ran towards her to cover her from cars and tried to think… What should I do? What could I do?

That old lady that scared the cat before me tried to analyze the situation and asked me whom she should call, because she wasn’t exactly sure… but I couldn’t say a damn thing… The cat was dead in a matter of seconds before I could snap out of it… Her movements died down and the light left her eyes… Many people walked past and asked if the cat was mine because I cried like crazy.

Then a man in a sporty car drove by, laughed and asked, if someone killed the cat. When he saw my face he was shocked and he stopped laughing. The pain I felt was very apparent… The old lady reacted a little bit bitchy towards that man and advised him to leave not that anyone would blame him for killing that cat. I can’t say just how thankful I was because in retrospective I know she was considerate of me and not of that man.

Luckily a couple joined us… The woman was swearing what a pig that person was who left the dying cat lying on the street… the man took care of the cat and got if off the street and the woman called the police… Together the four of us waited for their arrival… The three of them joked… but I didn’t feel like it. They said thinks like “Well... at least she didn’t suffer for to long…”, “At least it wasn’t a kid…”, “What goes around comes around” ...

A kid took a photograph and again I couldn’t say a thing… I just stood there stunned that someone would even think about that… That that kid would share the photography and others would look at it… maybe laugh like that man or write a comment like “oooh, what a poor thing…” Many people walked past us and looked at the cat... asked us what we’d do with it...

I’ve began to cry again when a man with a Shiba Inu walked past us and the dog began to bark at the cat like crazy. His owner said that the dog loved cats very much and that he most likely ‘cried’ in his own way...

The constant smell of iron and the painful grimace of the cat were almost more than I could take...

When the cat finally got picked up by a man from Securitas who promised us to check the chip and contact the owners I walked home dizzily. I cried a lot even the day after and I still can’t say that I got over it… because it feels like I killed the cat… It was a series of unfortunate events and I know that… and if someone was to blame then that driver… but… it just hurts and that cat didn’t deserve to die that way… I've relived that painful situation a thousand times now... and when I let it get to me I catch myself gasping for air...

That's the very reason why I crocheted the bigger black-white cat in the pictures above. I called her Maya - I really like that name - simply because I didn't know the name of the cat she's inspired by... I would have loved to get to know her... but sadly I wasn't able to. That's my way of showing that I care and I hope, wherever her soul may be now, that I'm able to reach her. Farewell, dear cat.

That's all I wanted to say for now. Despite the circumstances I wish you a beautiful day full of happy events... cuddle your animals and enjoy the life you've been given. Drive carefully and watch your surroundings... Especially at night... no human nor animal should have to die that way.

Daughter on the move