#for some reason gingers just naturally having yellower teeth

[kragehund-est]

imo a shitty insult is when someone points out another person's teeth aren't pure white. are you saying that part of my skeleton is skeleton-colored? fucked up if true.

[likefacesaretohearts]

Knocked Up

Pablo and reader grow in their relationship and possibly their family.

Listen to this Kings of Leon song while you readdd

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex, some slightly graphic language, mentions of unprotected sex, pregnancy

*******************************************************

The last few weeks you spent in Canada with Pablo and his two boys had been amazing. At first you were apprehensive about going on a trip with just him and his kids because you hadn't spent much time with them. Plus, you didn't want to be the stereotypical younger girlfriend that tags along and makes family trips awkward.

"The boys think you're cool. It'll be fun for all of us to spend time together. Trust me, babydoll," Pablo had told you while you were laying in bed the night before you left California.

Thankfully he was right. You got a chance to be with Pablo without all the distractions that were in LA and a chance to really get to know his kids. When you had first started dating Pablo, neither of you were sure if it was gonna be a lasting relationship or just a brief fling, so you agreed that you wouldn't meet his children until you got serious. Without expecting it, you fell quickly and deeply in love within 10 months of being together.

You were on an early morning hike with Pablo on a beautiful trail in the hills when you both decided to take a break and sit on the grass, looking out at a gorgeous wooded area. He had taken his shirt off and beads of sweat glistened off his back, chest and arms. You found his love of nature and being active so sexy— you laid your head on his damp shoulder and let out a contented sigh. "I'm so glad we came here," you said. "I feel like this is the life I wanna live."

"Me too," he said. "It's weird...I never thought someone could just fit in our family, but you do, y/n."

The sun was getting hotter as it got later in the morning, so the two of you decided to head back to the cabin you were staying in because the kids would be awake soon. You made a beeline for the shower because, well, you were in dire need of one after that hike. Peeling off your leggings and tank top and then feeling the cool water against your skin was an unmatched feeling. After a few minutes you heard a light knock on the bathroom door and Pablo asking "Ok if I come in?"

"Yeah, babe," you shouted so he could hear you. You figured that maybe he had to pee or wanted to brush his teeth or something. Instead, he opened the shower curtain and soon he was in the shower right behind you, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder. He grabbed the bottle of body wash that was nearby and said "Can I get under the water baby?" You switched spots with him so he could rinse himself off too.

"Rose hip oil? What the hell does that do?" He was reading the bottle of body wash in confusion.

"I don't know, but it smells good, right?" You replied.

He stepped closer to you so that his chest was touching yours and said "You smell good" with a very sly smile. "Ah so that's why you came in here," you said with a laugh. "You sneaky bastard." Pablo grabbed you and started kissing you as if he were in need of air and you were the only supply of it. His hand traveled down to your ass, then wandered between your legs. His dick was hard against your thigh and he whispered lustfully on your ear "You're so beautiful, honey. Let me show you how beautiful you are." Between heavy kisses you managed to say "Oh, baby I want to but I can't right now." You and Pablo both had very high sex drives and there was rarely a time when the two of you didn't feel like having sex...except for when you were ovulating. That was a time when the two of you were very careful and refrained from being together during that window of time because you weren't on birth control and you hadn't had a conversation about having children together yet. Hell, you were just now becoming comfortable with the two children that he had.

A look of understanding spread across his face, and he grabbed your face in his hands then kissed your forehead then your lips. "Alright sweetheart. How about I make you breakfast instead? What do you want, we got just about everything in the kitchen..."

"Surprise me," you said with a smile. He jumped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, leaving you to relax some more and exfoliate.

Fresh out of the shower and dressed in a pair of shorts and a comfy sweatshirt, you went into the kitchen to see what Pablo was cooking. "Blueberry or pecan?" He asked. Waffles. "Hmm...both!" The boys were at the other end of the house in the living room playing video games, but even though they weren't close by he lowered his voice when he said "So about earlier...would it be so bad?" Pablo did this sometimes, speaking as if you already knew what he was talking about without actually explaining first and you'd have to reel him in. "Babe, did you have the first part of this conversation without me?"

He put some freshly made waffles on a plate and started making more. "Remember in the shower earlier? When you said you couldn't..." he raised his eyebrows at the risk of the kids somehow hearing his say the word 'sex'. "Would it be so bad if we did... had a baby?"

You almost choked on the coffee you had been sipping. Of course you loved him and you wanted kids, you always had, but you had no idea he had even thought about having more. After taking a second to gather you thoughts, you said "You want another baby?"

"I mean, yeah. I never really put a time or intention on it because I haven't been in a serious relationship in a while, but it's something that's always been in the back of my mind. I don't wanna freak you out if it's too soon for you to think about...but I can see that for us. What if we had alittle girl that looks just like you?"

Hearing him talk like that made you emotional for some reason. It was the thing everyone who wants a family wants to hear their partner say. You got up and hugged him from behind as he continued to cook and kissed his shoulder.

"So you're open to it?" He asked sheepishly.

"Mhm," you said, smiling. He turned around and planted a sweet kiss on your lips.

"Boys, breakfast is ready. Come & get it!"

*************************************************

To put it simply, you felt like shit. You had notoriously bad periods and you could definitely feel it coming on. It was a about a week late but along with being generally awful, your periods were also unpredictable. The strange part was that you didn't have cramps, but we're extremely nauseous and overall weak. You and Pablo were still in Canada and it'd been about two weeks since you had agreed that a baby was in the cards for y'all. He joked that the two of you should start "trying" but you'd been feeling so terrible lately that you barely had the energy to do the day to day activities you guys usually did with the kids, like hiking, riding dirt bikes and watching movies, let alone have the kind of energetic sex you and Pablo usually have.

Pablo and the kids were about to head to the store to stock up on some more food and supplies for the cabin. He came into the room you shared where you'd been laying down and watching 13 Going on 30 on TV to distract you from how gross you felt. He crouched down next to the bed and rubbed your head.

"Is there anything you want me to grab for you at the store? I hate seein you like this, honey."

Somehow in that moment, it all clicked. You felt dumb for not realizing what the cause of your sickness probably was. Without even really thinking it through, you blurted out, "I think I need a pregnancy test...kind of...I think!"

"You think you could be pregnant?" He asked with innocent excitement growing in his voice.

"I mean, I wouldn't quite rule it out."

About an hour later the three of them had returned and after making the boys a quick snack to hold them over before dinner, he brought a plastic bag into your room and sat on the bed. "Alright, my lovely," he said, pulling out a ginger ale, some sour gummy worms for your nausea and...the pregnancy test. Two of them, as a matter of fact. "I have an idea, but let me know if you're not up for it: you take both the tests, leave them in the bathroom, then me and you go for a walk outside and when we come back we can look at it together."

"Let's do it," you said, pulling on some shoes and a hoodie to protect you from the brisk night air.

The sky was a gorgeous orange, yellow and faded purple, the perfect backdrop for a sunset. You and Pablo walked hand in hand through the nearby wooded area, taking about the possibility of you carrying your first child together and how thrilled his boys would be. As you walked and talked, time got away from you and nearly an hour had passed when you decided it would be best to head back. You sent Pablo to the bathroom to go get the tests and bring them to out to the front porch where you'd both decided to sit to look out at the stars.

"You ready?" He asked, reaching out for your hand. You grabbed it and rubbed his hand with your thumb. You turned over one test and he turned over the other at the same time.

Pregnant and pregnant.

Your eyes welled up with tears immediately and you covered your mouth with your hands. He reached over and grabbed you into a bear hug, kissing the top of your head and peppering your face with kisses.

"Baby, how do you feel?" You asked him, your voice muffled by the jacket he was wearing.

"Let's do it, sweetheart."

He grabbed you and lifted you up, carrying you into the house bridal style. The love in both of your eyes was enough to last a lifetime. You couldn't wait to grow your family with him and give the boys a little sibling

[malkumtend]

Their Booth (Human SquirrelCrow) - Part 2.

He’d be lying if he said her room was any different from what he expected. Light yellow walls that became vibrant in the strong sun, white bedsheets patched with warm orange stripes, a bookcase piled with texts on film theory and more Stephen King novels than Crow thought existed, another bookcase completely stacked with Blu-rays and obscure DVD’S, and an entire wall plastered with film posters. It was honestly quite scary to look that way and find a hundred pairs of eyes, mostly behind the gleam of a weapon, glaring back at you.

Spirited, flashy, intense. It was just what he imagined. It was her.

It was welcoming.

She throws her bag across the room, slumping back on her bed. “I’m so tired.”

Crow sets his own bag down. “Why?”

“It’s just been a long day.”

“Oh really?” Crow begins scanning the pile of books. “What have you done?”

She kicks her boots off. “I got ten pages of the new script done.” She says, sitting up to pull her coat from her arms. “Took me around two hours.”

“Wow.” Crow deadpans, pretending to look wide-eyed. “I only had to run three marathons today. How did you survive?”

He only sees the coat for a second, floating like a ghost, before his face is covered by green.

“It’s not my fault you’re a freak.”

In the darkness, Crow chuckles. He’s smiling by the time he pulls the coat off. “Takes one to know one.”

Squirrel has an arched brow, as well as her boot armed back, ready to throw.

Crow gently puts the coat on her door. “So, what do you want to start with?” He unzips his bag, scrambling for his English textbook.

The ginger girl groans, but mercifully lets Crow’s face go un-booted. “Ugh! Seriously! We just got out and you want to study!”

Crow rolls his eyes, but the laughter warms his throat. “That’s kind of why I’m here, Squirrel.” He looks to her door uneasily. “At least it’s the only reason your mom didn’t kill me.” Sandstorm had been nice enough, told him that she’d heard nothing but great things about him from Squirrel (her daughter had denied that - blushing) but he could feel the warning squeeze as he shook her hand, and he could have sworn he’d seen her nod when he’d looked up in question.

The familiar flash of a mother’s eyes. If you like your kneecaps in their normal place, no funny business.

She hadn’t needed to say it. Crow had nodded vigorously. Message received.

“Oh, please.” Squirrel sits up again, her hands slipping her hair back over her shoulders. “She’d kill you regardless. She’s like a shark. And what do you mean? You don’t hang out to study! That’s like the opposite of hanging out!”

Crow paused, taking a seat beside her on the bed. Truthfully, he didn’t care about studying. He was on course for an A, and as far as he knew so was Squirrel. But her parents wanted to make sure she kept on that road. It had been Leaf who had begged Crow to give her a hand. As much as she loved her sister, she had her own studying (and girlfriend) to see to. Squirrel apparently hadn’t been too on board with the idea. It was ‘too humiliating’ apparently.

It was when Fireheart suggested asking Bramble to come back and help her that Squirrel finally resigned to texting Crow non-stop until he agreed.

He’d actually agreed after the first text.

Crow knew full well how little Squirrel wanted to see Bramble anymore. The idiot still hadn’t mentioned Squirrel’s film to her. Whenever he was mentioned Squirrel shifted and made a face that Crow hated to see her make.

He suspected that she still wasn’t over him just yet.

And while that was understandable, it cut into Crow for more reasons than one.

That was why he wanted to make sure they got some work done. If her parents walked in and saw Crow wasn’t doing what he was meant to come over for, he had no doubt they wouldn’t hesitate to sack him off and call Bramble back.

The thought of that made his fists clench.

“Well, it might be better if you remember I’m not here to hang out.”

“Oh, so this is just work for you?” She sighs like one of the actresses she would direct. “And here I thought there was something special between us.”

That shouldn’t sting as much as it does. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t even know.

“Not my fault you’re wrong.” He plays along. “Look, let’s just do an hour at least. Then if your parents come in, they’ll keep of your back for the rest of the night.”

Squirrel pouts sulkily and Crow knows she’s considering it. She never let it look like she was giving up. She always had to show some restraint, real or imaginary. He turns back to the textbook now. He scans through for subjects she needs work on. He’s split between starting with Poetry or Analysing the role of women in Dystopian Fiction.

There is a creaking that moves across the bed towards him. Two hands curl on the base of his skull, digging in softly. He knows from the extra weight that she has balanced her chin on her hands. It’s not a lot of force he needs to keep himself up, but the heat on his face is slightly worrying.

He feels her elbows on his shoulders. “Can’t we make it half an hour?” She asks her human table.

Somehow, he shrugs. “If you want your mother to get the belt, sure.”

“You’d like the pain.”

“If it’s yours, then you’re damn right.”

“Sadist.”

They both talk so simply, words rolling off in the natural balance they’d built.

She sighs, her hands move off his head and onto his shoulders. His body is dragged back a little as she curves back with a contemplating mutter. A twist of shame and a happy flutter simultaneously come over the boy. He almost feels he could lose his balance. The fear of discovery is what keeps him stoic. He wonders a little if he’s always been like this about these things. He doesn’t think it was like this around Feather, but how could he know? Denial was probably his eternal security when it came to his own pathetic attempts of keeping cool.

The fingers on his shoulders all tap then slap down lightly. “An hour and then a movie?”

“Sure.”

“Can I pick it?”

“Will it be Breakfast Club?”

“Possibly.”

He didn’t know how many times she’d seen it, but four was enough for him. “An hour and something new.”

Squirrel leans forward again; she practically sings into his ear. “Can I still pick the new film?”

He says yes, if only to make sure she can’t see his eyes widen.

She doesn’t as she falls back, shoving him gently. “Let’s start with poetry then. I’d rather get the worst done quickly.”

It doesn’t go quickly for her, Crow can see. After every point she makes she checks the clock and audibly gnashes her teeth when she sees only another minute has passed. With an actor’s heart, she falls back dramatically at least half a dozen times, murmuring a prayer. Crow learns not to pay her the attention after the third time. They needed to get the work done. It turns out the best trick to get her back up is to just tap her ankle with the textbook, gently prodding her like a woodpecker, until she sits back up.

But as dramatic and reserved as she was, she definitely isn’t an idiot. She doesn’t stumble on her points. They come out smooth and rehearsed with the diction of someone who knows what they’re talking about. Presumably because she knew if she struggled it would mean more time on the stuff  she hated. That makes it go just a little quicker.

She actually answers them easier than when Crow has to speak, to her evil delight.

“I thought you were meant to be the tutor here.”

“I’d call myself your warden more than anything.”

Crow isn’t as annoyed as would have been. He can’t deny that she’s smarter than him here. Bragging rights were hers.

Besides, she looked happy.

Also, he’d get his chance to brag eventually. They’d have to move onto math sooner or later.

They only get two interruptions through the whole hour. The first is Sandstorm, under the guise of checking in on them, asking if they needed anything. Once she saw her daughter actually working, Crow was relieved to see her grin at him thankfully before heading away. He’d been holding in that breath of relief like an ancient treasure.

The second is Moth, carrying in an iced tea for Squirrel and a mocha (with a froth of whipped cream stirred in) for Crow. She’d been getting drinks for her and Leaf and said she felt guilty if they weren’t getting anything as well. Crow has to admit, Leaf had great taste in women. Moth was almost unnervingly friendly and bizarrely just as much of a genius as her girlfriend, she’d already been offered a medical scholarship. It was even more amazing considering what Crow had heard about her… background.

Leaf had been right about that Hawk guy. She didn’t mention him much, but when he came up and Moth was in the room, the girl shook with such sheer fear that Crow would not have imagined it was her brother they’d mentioned.

Apparently, she was doing better though. For reasons that Crow knew were none of his business, Hawk had been thrown out of his and Moth’s home. Where he was now, Moth didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. The others respected that. All they needed to do was stand by her and help if she needed it. But her auburn hair looked less withered, her cheeks had more colour, and she showed off her impressive height without the scrunched gait she had seemed to linger in before.

As long as she was happy, Leaf was happy. Crow and Squirrel just did what they could to make sure it stayed that way.

And that was easy when she was so damn nice. That mocha had been delicious.

Five minutes later, they call it a session.

“That’s a wrap!” Squirrel stretches her arms up triumphantly. The sleeves she wears are too big and roll down clumsily. She says it makes her look bigger. Crow doesn’t get the logic but he says nothing.

“For today.” Crow spites playfully.

His friend makes a raspberry. “That’s all that matters.” As if the tension and stress has evaporated, she jumps off of the bed, rushing over to her Blu-ray collection. Crow still feels like he should whistle at the multitude of titles she owned, they must have made up at least $300. He’d mentioned it once. She’d shot back if it was necessary to own a dozen pairs of running shoes. He had tried to tell her how each shoe was more adaptable to certain tracks or states of weather, but she was about as interested as he’d been about why it was necessary to own, like six, various versions of Blade Runner.

Whatever they did with their money, they decided, was their own business.

“What to watch. What to watch.” She pulls cases out one by one, her face igniting with thought at every cover.

Crow rolled his head back onto the head of her bed. “Pick anything.” He isn’t that fussy about these things. Whether it was some art-house thing he wouldn’t understand, or some Disney flick where Squirrel would know the words to every song in the thing, and sing along right in front of him, he’d sit and watch.

“Oh okay, then-”

He just makes it. “Not Breakfast Club!”

“Spoilsport…”

“Don’t you get bored of watching that thing every day?” He asks flatly.

“Do you get bored of running around the same track every week?”

Oh, he is so not ready to play this game. “Okay, whatever. Point taken.” His eyes close, listening to her fumble through the films. Every so often he hears her murmur something like “Nah, not his best film” or “Bit too sappy for him”. She’s analysing her decisions around him. Crow doesn’t know what to think about that. It makes her sound like she knows him so well. It’s a little embarrassing. But then he considers how she’s clearly trying to pick something she thinks he’ll enjoy. And it’s based on the tastes she associates with him.

Crow’s stomach goes light. Did she often think about what he liked? Was he that easy to read? He inhales, his nostrils feel numb. He knows he’s overthinking this. All he really knew for sure was that she wanted to make sure he enjoyed her pick.

He’s content with that.

She pulls out Jackass with a smirk, shaking it at him. “Too close to home?”

“It’s in your hands.”

“Touché. I’ve already picked something anyway.” She rises, holding a film called Little Miss Sunshine. Crow doesn’t recognise it. The title makes his mouth twist though. You never knew what you were in for when it came to Squirrel.

“What’s it about?”

She places the film in the player, looking back at him with a glint. “I find it best when you go into films without knowing anything about them.”

Crow regrets asking. This girl could be impossible. “That’s not very smart advice.”

“Why’s that?”

“Like, what if I hated horror movies and someone stuck one on without me knowing? Or if some weirdo stuck on some porno flick or something?”

Squirrel stands up, swipes a lock of hair behind her shoulder and holds the cover up with a terse look on her face. “Does this look like some horror porno to you?”

“Knowing you, I can’t trust the cover.”

She chuckles, sitting down on the end of the bed with the remote. She’s a mix of irritated and playful. “Tell you what, if at any point some guy ends up cut in half or gets his dick out, I’ll turn it off. Happy?”

“Is this secretly some plan to get rid of me?”

She shrugs. “Don’t need a plan, the door’s right there if I need to kick you out. Now do you want to watch the movie or not?”

He’s not that bothered about the film. But he knows she wants him to watch it, and he knows he’ll enjoy hearing her talk about it. So they watch it. Crow actually enjoys it quite a bit. Some road trip movie about a family taking their youngest daughter to a beauty pageant. It’s acted great, and there are enough twists to keep Crow entertained (the ending scene is genuinely hilarious to him though).

And when he looks like he’s enjoying it, the faces Squirrel makes make his night.

She always likes having a discussion after every film they watch. It’s clear that she loves film with a passion. Every character, every scene, even down to the ways the camera moves, Squirrel has an opinion on it all. And it’s not like she’s pretentious about it in anyway. She’s convincing and always leaves Crow points where he can offer his own point. He doesn’t do it much (He’d rather hear it from someone who actually knows what they’re talking about). It’s just fun. She’s passionate about this and Crow likes to see that.

Although she does slip sometimes.

Such as tonight. She’s talking about how the protagonist is able to go against the conformities of beauty and success when Crow hears her voice tighten just a hint. He realises it’s odd to notice these things, but maybe he is odd when it comes to her. He’s seen her like this before, not in a while but it still leaves him cold.

“Isn’t that the point though?” Crow says. They’re sat at the head of her bed, side by side. “They realise she can do things her own way. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.” Squirrel lays down, her ginger locks look like gleaming spiderwebs on the pillow. Her face is hardened on the ceiling. She pauses a moment. “It just sucks though, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Like, the fact those pageants exist. I mean, I get that it gives some kids confidence or something. But there’s at least ten more kids who watch that shit and think they’re too fat or too, just, like, not normal to do anything in it?”

“I feel like there’s some projecting going on here.” Crow says slowly, leaning onto his elbow. The bed is remarkably soft and he almost falls off.”

Squirrel narrows her eyes at him. “You think I’m wrong?”

“I never said that.” Crow flicks a strand of hair over her nose, she creases and blows it away. “It’s bullshit, any idiot can see that. But why are you so worried about it? Have you got a pageant life I don’t know about?”

She punches his elbow, but she’s laughing. “You wish, perv. I just don’t think it’s right, that’s all.”

“I agree with you on that. But it’s not like you’re conforming to anything right?”

She blinks at him.

“I mean, you make movies and you’re really good at it.”

Was he putting too much effort with the ‘really’? He doesn’t try to think about it. “I haven’t heard anyone hate on your festival picture, and reminder.” He pokes her arm. “You came in the top five in that national contest!”

Her eyes flutter. “It was actually a regional contest.”

Crow waves a hand at the air, as if batting away wasps. “Who the hell cares? Fact is, you’re great at it!”

“Great.” It’s just one word. But Crow hears something different in how she says it. Small and curious, perhaps suspicious. It’s infrequent, but Crow panics whenever he hears it on her. He feels like the signature on a poorly made painting. He tries to picture what normal was for him and he thinks back to when thought of Squirrel or the idea of friends with nothing but disgust.

That normal was impossible to want, yet Crow missed the routine of not giving a shit.

He can only go with it. Keep his face like stone. “Obviously. Every idiot is great at something.”

Maybe remembering her own self, but her eyes still glimmering, Squirrel sits up with a cheeky look. “Oh, you mean how you were great at running?”

The relief of the straight line is temporary. “Yeah exact-” His eyebrows curve up. “I’m sorry. Were?”

Squirrel smiles at him with a look that’s almost sympathetic! She pats his back like she’s a mother comforting a child. “Don’t look like that Crow, just because you can’t run it doesn’t mean you’re a loser to me.”

He starts ranting about doctors’ orders and muscle strains as she laughs hard. He ‘argues’ his point for what might be ten minutes before Fireheart sticks his head in to ask about the racket. Crow has the sense to look apologetic while Squirrel explains they were done with the tutoring.

“Sounds like it too.” Fireheart says his arms crossing. Though his hair burns ginger like his daughter’s, there is a seasoned hardness on his face. Crow doesn’t want to get on his bad side.

“Sorry about that.” Crow says, easing away from the man’s daughter just a little. Fireheart smiles, unoffended.

“I’m kidding. It’s fine.” He nods to Crow. “Thanks for coming to help. It’s good to know Squirrel is getting some work done.”

Squirrel blushes furiously, “Dad!”

The man laughs genially, “Lighten up, kiddo!” Off of his daughter’s sulking look, he looks back at Crow. “Would you like me to give you a ride back home?”

The boy thinks that’s his signal to go, but before he can agree Squirrel cuts in. “We were actually just going to give Feather and Storm a call before he goes. It’s been a while.”

Crow is surprised by the change in plans, but he doesn’t object to it. It has been a while since they last spoke to their friend. Plus, he wasn’t in any hurry to go.

“Ah.” Fireheart makes a sound of agreement. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Well just give me a call if you want me to take you home, or I could call Ashfoot to come get you if you like?”

The friendliness of the man encourages Crow a little. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Fireheart nods again. But this time he gives Crow the spasm of an eye that almost looks like a wink. And was that a smirk? Crow feels his throat dry up again.

Squirrel sighs irritably once he’s gone, “That’s why I want a lock.”

Crow coughs to cover his unwinding nerves. “So we’re calling Feather and Storm?”

The girl beams, reaching to her bag to pull out her laptop. She slides her belly across the bed, lifting her legs and resting them on Crow’s knees. “Of course, we are! You’ll want to see her again, no doubt.” He thinks she’s smirking. Crow’s eyes dim.

“Not funny.”

“It’s true.”

It isn’t. But what can he say. As far as she knows, nothing was different about him. That hurt a little. It almost made it look like there was no point in thinking he could ever move on. But he had, he’d done it before she’d left.

But the idea that Squirrel would realise that scared the shit out of him.

Her legs swing away from him as she walks towards the door, “I’ll go ask Leaf if she wants to join. Don’t jump out the window or anything.”

Crow picks his head up, mimicking being annoyed rather than perturbed. “You know me.”

Squirrel blasts him a wiggle of her brows and then she’s gone. Taking her presumptions and theories with her. It’s strange to be alone in her room. It’s like she’s never gone. Crow sighs at the way his stomach is throbbing. He’s stuck in a paradox. He didn’t want to be found out. But the way she misjudged him, or his feelings, still stung no matter how stupid it really was.

She no doubt was going off to Leaf about him seeing Feather again, like it was some Romeo and Juliet type bullshit. That wasn’t it at all. If they looked at him when he saw his old crush again, there wouldn’t be anything like that. He missed Feather terribly. She was a great friend to have around. They all missed her like that.

But that added glow that came to her face so long ago. That was gone.

Or rather, it’s spotlight was centred on someone new.

...

So I wanted to add some more to this Human AU idea. It will come in small parts this time, compared to a massive one shot. That way I can alternate between this and ILYL. Now this is done, back to working on the main fic. Expect the next part of this after that chapter is released.

Thanks for reading.

[businesswithtrend]

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[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #397

“you’re my religion, you’re my reason to live  /  you are the heaven in my hell”

Do you think that you’ll always love who you love now? Even if we're never together again romantically, I will ALWAYS love her at least as a best friend. Have you ever made out with a random person? Yeah, no. If you could do your first kiss over, would you? No. I'm lucky that my first kiss was honestly cute as hell. Do you like your country’s president or prime minister? Well I voted for him, so I obviously can't hate him. He seems to be doing fine so far, though take that with a grain of salt seeing as I don't keep up with politics. Even before voting for him, I just did a small bit of researching on his values. What color is your house? Yellow with white accents. Do you listen to Christmas music during the holiday season? No, I don't enjoy it. Man, Jason's mom sure did, though... I loved how in the spirit she'd get and always played Christmas music in the car during that time of year. I miss that woman and I sure as hell hope she rests easy now. Do you like ginger ale? Solely if I have a stomach bug, and I can only ever sip it. What are you listening to? "Electric Sugar Pop" by Jeffree Star. What’s the last thing you watched on TV? The TMS office has the TV on, and the woman who overlooks it (I have zero idea what her position is called) tends to have it either on a cooking channel or a home improvement one. Today was a cooking one. Is your favorite author the author of your favorite book? I don't have a favorite author. Describe someone you find really attractive: M-Mark Fischbach. *___* If you HAD to look like someone else, but could choose who, who would you choose? Hm... maybe my friend Alon. I've mentioned I feel like a million times that she is like, ethereal with how gorgeous she is. Have you ever seen someone get a tattoo done? If so, what was it? Did they cry or were they in a lot of pain? Yeah; it was a watercolor feather with "ohana" written below it. She didn't cry at all, but she grit her teeth a few times. Do you have anything you couldn’t go a day without? Some form of technology. Have you ever gotten caught doing something illegal? No. What’s your favorite flavor of Vitamin Water? I don't even think I've ever tried it. Is there someone you wanna date right now? Yeah. What first attracted you to the last person you kissed? If we're talking the very first, our vast similar interests. How many brothers does your father have? None. Does your best friend have any tattoos? No. Do you like Ben + Jerry’s? Yep. Man, I want their Phish Food ice cream now. Would you ever wish to be the opposite sex? Nah. Do you think you’re attractive? Nope. What is your favorite card game to play? Magic: The Gathering. I really miss my PS3 where I had Duel of the Planeswalkers installed on it, it was really fun. Do you own a globe? I don't think we still do. What is your favorite wild cat? Perhaps clouded leopards. If your bedroom had three portals to anywhere, where would they lead? South Africa, Sara's place, and maybe a nice little cabin in the mountains for when I'm feeling a peaceful getaway. You can ask any author one question about their story. What do you ask? I have zero idea. What’s a place you have a strong emotional connection to? The pond behind the local community college. Jason and I took our first prom pictures there. Do you take yoga classes? No, but I'm actually considering it since they offer those at the YMCA Mom and I now go to. What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? To let Jason go. It's pretty great, my PTSD has been less of a bother lately! Have you ever made any money from a side-hustle? Could you consider being paid to take pictures once in a blue moon a "side hustle" when I don't even have a main job? Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Ugh... it's incredibly painful to wonder how life would be if Jason never left. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? Adele's or Amy Lee's, probs. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Metal, hard rock, alternative. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? No. Have you ever been homeless? If so, what led to your homelessness? Technically, yes, because Mom couldn't afford the rent. She, my little sister (who still lived with us at the time), and I each were accepted into the homes of willing, kind people, though. Have you ever been on a ship? No. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? David. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? Heath Ledger's Joker is quoted all the time, so probably him. What do you think of the "Healthy At Every Size" movement/philosophy? Before I answer this, I want you to keep in mind that this is coming from someone who is obese, so I would positively love to agree with that for my own self-confidence, but I don't. I believe it's a very dangerous mentality. I think you should cherish your body unconditionally, like it's an amazing machine, but I firmly believe you should have an active interest in becoming what is physically healthy. You couldn't pay me millions to convince me that, say, a 300 lb. person is healthy. What was the name of the first person you ever had a crush on? Why did you like them? I think my first *real* crush was this guy Sebastian my freshman year of high school. I thought he was very sweet, funny, caring, and attractiveness was a bonus. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? Sashimi, caviar, raw eggs... Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with? Bindi Irwin, for one. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. Have you ever been bitten so hard that there teeth marks were there after? I mean I've had hickeys before if that's what you're asking. Ever gave one? Oh, I guess you were. Yeah. Do you think its weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? Not at all. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) Yes. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? IF I wanted kids, I'd rather have one myself because I'm well aware I personally need that special connection. Stepkids count, too, because they'd be my partner's and therefore very important for me too. What is the most personal question you have ever been asked? Probably TMI, so here's your fair warning, but I've been asked before if I "touch" myself and I was absolutely repulsed that someone would ask me that. Were you abused by your parents? No. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. Were you one of the smartest in your class? Up to finishing high school, modestly, I was. Where did you meet your first crush? Art class my freshman year of high school. Do you ever go places with wet hair? Yeah, idc. Who is your favorite little girl? My niece Aubree. She's such a wonderful girl. Does your best friend have kids? No. If you were pregnant, would you want a boy or a girl? Hypothetically, a girl. What place outside of your own home do you spend the most time at? Um, maybe my older sister's house? Have you ever participated in a medical study? No. Do you have any family members who are cancer survivors? Yes, including my mother. Twice. Are you allergic to any medications? None that I've tried. Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license? I don't even have that. If you’re atheist, would you raise you kids believing in God or not? No; I wouldn't intervene with their own spiritual (or lack thereof) journey. They'd learn what they'd learn and decide themselves what they believe. Do you like reading self-help books? No, I just can't get invested in those. What is your opinion on sex change? If you're unhappy with your body, you're more than free to surgically change that with no judgment from me. Do you have any goals for this summer? If so, what are they? Yes, to lose weight. Can you get a strike at bowling? I have before. There was one occasion where my first go was a strike RIGHT after saying I sucked at bowling, hahaha. Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? Well, I photograph roadkill, and that's one hell of a sad moment. I actually wouldn't mind broadening my horizons of photographing negative moments (with permission of course), because I actually find these very impactful and even builds empathy. I will never, ever forget this one picture I saw sometime of an emaciated boy huddled in the dirt with a vulture close by watching him... like fuck, it made me want to sob. No one should ever have to live like that, especially a child. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No. I know that sounds contradictory to what I just said, I just wouldn't be able to do it myself. Have you ever held a newborn baby? Once, when my last niece was born. I'm terrified of holding them because they're just so fragile. Do you know anyone who has twins? My friend just had triplets. What is your favorite country in Europe? Germany. Are you thriving in your life right now? BOY HOWDY- Do you remember to water plants? I don't keep plants. Name three YouTubers you aspire to be like. 1.) Markiplier in a vast plethora of ways; 2.) Jeffree Star for his incredible work ethic; and 3.) Shane Dawson for his incredible compassion. Yes. I know the controversy, but regardless, he cares a lot about people. Who is your favorite character from Harry Potter? I wouldn't know, given I haven't read the books or seen the movies. Do you watch PewDiePie? Not anymore; his content doesn't interest me anymore. I watched him religiously back in the day when he was a serious let's player, though. Do you have a Steam account? Yes. Have you ever played Five Nights at Freddy’s? No, not personally. I like watching LPs of it and I find the story fascinating, but it's not the kind of game I'd enjoy playing. Have you ever tried Akinator? Yes. I don't think I ever beat it, except maybe once. Are you wearing socks right now? No; unless I'm wearing closed-toe shoes like sneakers, I never do. I hate the feeling of them. Can you twerk? Haven't tried, don't wanna. Do you like dabbing? No, it looks stupid. Do you like fishing? I honestly do think it's fun with all the anticipation and thrill of seeing how big the fish is, however I don't support it anymore unless, like hunting, you genuinely need it for food. The only case where I'd go again was if my dad asked me, because that's always been our bonding experience. Do you have a Spotify account? Yes. Have you heard of Blizzard Entertainment? Well, they're the company behind World of Warcraft, so obviously. Do you like bananas? Yes, but only for a VERY short window of time. I am beyond picky with the ripeness of bananas. Are you addicted to anything? Caffeine and technology. Do you know your phone number? I actually don't. Do you swear in front of children? No.

[embeanwrites]

Finding Home Gavin Reed x Reader

Chapter 15

Masterlist

Connor had driven me home after we finished the movie and now, I was laying in bed looking at my phone. I decided to send Gavin a text before heading to bed.

 How’s burning the midnight oil with Nines?

 lame, i wish i was with my cats

 Me too lol

 how was dinner

 Pretty good, we watched Into the Spider-Verse after. Connor had never seen it!

 i haven’t either

 You’re joking, right? Is this the Jameson and Ginger Ale thing again?

 i barely have time for new movies, let alone old ones

 We’re watching it ASAP

 lol ok pipsqueak

hey i have bad news

 Damn, you couldn’t secure a place for the Dead Mom Society to meet? Or is the bakery out of chocolate chip cookies?

 no i have to work through lunch on monday

 :(

What are you going to have for lunch then?

 idk a pb&j from the breakroom

 Would it ruin your “working through lunch” if I brought you lunch and we eat it in the breakroom?

 nines wont be too happy

 Tell him it’s revenge for lying and setting us up!

 ok ill work on him and let u know

 Awesome! Good luck saving the city tonight, Batman!

 ur the biggest nerd ive ever met

yet for some reason i like u

 Awwwwww you like me

 …hm

 Yeah, yeah I like you too

I gotta go to bed, talk to you later

 Sleep tight, pipsqueak

I smiled at the screen for a moment, even if that nickname was rude and had started as an insult, it was his thing for me now. I'm an adult woman. A nickname shouldn't make me feel this giddy, but here I am, grinning at a now black phone screen, thinking about how he only grins and never smiles and how handsome it is when half his face scrunches up to accommodate those grins. I wonder if he's grinning now, a small one at his desk, maybe into a cup of coffee to hide it while he returns to his case files. I hope he's grinning, feeling like a stupid teenager. I hope he likes me as much as I'm starting to like him. I fell asleep soon after, thinking of what I should bring him for lunch, trying to guess what would surprise him most without being too flashy, what I could do to make him grin for me again.

 I woke up the next morning around 10 am, and laid in bed for a moment questioning how necessary it was for me to get out of this nice warm cocoon of blankets, with the sunlight streaming in gently just out of my eyes, and sighed loudly when I remembered that it was indeed necessary that I get out of bed, as Tina would be here to pick me up at 11:30. I kicked the covers off, grabbing my phone off the charger and moving to sit on the edge of the bed to check it before truly getting up. The first notification was a text from Gavin, sent around 5 a.m. 

u can come on monday probs around 11 bring whatever im not picky

 Will do, Batman!

I turned on a throwback playlist while I got ready, a quick shower where I debated too long over shaving my legs before I actually did so, thinking about how Tina might have me try on a suit or dress for the wedding. I hadn't decided what I wanted to go for yet, hence the indecisiveness with the razor. Eventually I bit the bullet and just took the extra five minutes to shave just to the tops of my knees, not bothering with my thighs as I highly doubted I'd be wearing a mini dress to a formal event, though it might be fun to see how Gavin would react to more revealing clothes. I filed the thought away while I got out of the shower, toweling off and tying the towel around my hair and brushing my teeth. By the time I had thrown on a pair of well loved jeans and a plain tee, Tina was calling me, I answered and before I could even put the phone to my ear, I could hear music blaring in the background, and then Tina screamed "HERE BITCH!" and promptly hung up. I pocketed the phone, and hurried looking for my Birkenstocks, of course they weren't by the door, they were in front of the fridge, where I had stopped last night upon arriving home to grab some food before heading to bed. I slid the sandals on, stopping for a moment to grab two packets of the applesauce squeezies for a quick breakfast. 

By the time I got to the car, Tina was listening to a different song, but the volume was the same, I'm sure my poor neighbors who were trying to sleep in on a Sunday morning were not very pleased. I opened the door and slid in, Tina turned the volume down. What a shame, she had excellent taste in music, ‘Do I Wanna Know?’ by Arctic Monkeys isn't a song you just turn down! 

"Took you long enough!" She laughed, a smile stretching across her face. 

"Shut up I couldn't find my shoes!" I shouted, holding up my feet and wiggling my toes in the most comfortable pair of shoes ever made. She looked at my feet and raised her eyebrows, snorting.

"Jesus Christ I’m a lesbian and I still wouldn’t wear those ugly ass shoes, (Y/n)!” I gasped and smacked her arm. 

“You’re disrespecting your culture!” I shouted, as the car silently started and began to pull out into the street, heading towards the dress store. Tina just giggled and I huffed. 

“For that, I’m not giving you the applesauce I brought for you.” I tore open the packets, double fisting them and squeezing all their contents into my mouth. Tina howled with laughter 

“What are you, fucking two years old! I cannot believe you!” 

“You’re just jealous that you aren’t as stylish as me and now I’ve had a healthy breakfast which I assume you didn’t as you were at the station all night. I was going to be a good, kind, maid of honor and offer you sustenance but if you disrespect the birks, you disrespect me.” I joked, crossing my arms and looking out the windshield past her. 

“Oh my god my maid of honor is two years old!!” 

“Hey! That’s uncalled for, I’m not a toddler, if anything I’m like a seven year old, I make sense but just barely.” I joked. She laughed and nodded. 

“Still can’t buy booze.”

“That’s why there are other best people who are of age who can.” 

There was a natural pause in the conversation, the song changed and we both listened for a moment before Tina turned to me, a devilish grin on her face making me nervous. 

“What?”

“So, I noticed something strange at work last night.”

“Yeah, what did you notice?” I laughed.

“A certain someone kept texting on their phone and smiling AND Nines wasn’t giving them a hard time for being on their phone.” She smirked. “I thought the date went bad?”

“How do you even know it was me, future Detective Chen?”

“Well, I may have glanced over his shoulder at some point and saw your name.” I laughed.

“Tina! I was going to tell you. You didn’t have to spy on Gavin!” She laughed.

“It was the heat of the moment. I promise the next time I spy on him I won’t tell you.” I shoved her shoulder and we both laughed.

“Man, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” The automatic car pulled into the bridal shop and we both squealed, jumping out of the car and practically running inside.

"I win." Tina said smugly as she crossed the threshold of the store before me. 

"Hey who's the kid now!"

Time went by fast in the shop, the consultants immediately brought us back to a sitting area, offering us complimentary champagne that we happily took. Our consultant, a happy-go-lucky android named Lance, brought out a selection of pantsuits for Tina to try, and offered excellent counsel on all of Tina's concerns. She wanted something elegant and more masculine. She tried a couple things before deciding pinstripe made her feel like a mobster and that white was definitely not her color. Lance was always smiling and laughing with them, not minding at all when they laughed at one of the options or didn't like what he had brought for her. He was very efficient in bringing options, and after three 'no's' he brought out a selection of black jackets and pants, assisting her in a pair of slim fit high waisted slacks with a center vertical pleat to help her look taller, a simple white dress shirt with a short popped collar, and a sleek black satin jacket, with a black lining. The fabric shone nicely in the light, a little bit of a sparkle in the thread. She looked gorgeous, and I could tell she felt it too, the way her eyes shone a bit, and her cheeks flushed, though she would probably blame that on the champagne if I brought it up later.

“You should try on some bridesmaids’ dresses. I’ve got my suit and now I want to judge others!”  Tina plopped down on the couch next to me and took my champagne from me.

"You haven't even decided on the style you want! Are you matching both bridal parties? Doesn't Valerie have a say in it then!" I squawked, reaching for the champagne flute she'd stolen from me. 

"We actually have talked about it, and we decided that as long as everyone has blush pink or yellow in their outfit, whatever style they want is best. It eliminates the drama and keeps our wedding day happy." Tina said, tipping her head back and downing my champagne in one big gulp. I smacked her arm. 

"Ah, I'd be happy to help you find a dress Miss. (L/N)." Lance offered, moving to sit next to me and offered out his hand, images of dresses popping up on his hand. 

"What are you thinking Miss (L/N)? Would you prefer the blush tone or yellow?" Lance asked, looking at my face instead of his hand. 

"Ah, blush please." I requested. 

"Not a problem, it's a popular color so we have a lot of options. Now, what style cut do you like?" I looked at him like a fish out of water. 

"I'm not sure, what do you think would look best, Lance?" He smiled, before pulling up a couple of images on his hand and explaining the styles and what design choices would flatter my features. I nodded, and he guided me back to the dressing room. 

"I'm going to run and grab some of the options we discussed Miss. (L/N)." He told me, before shutting the door. He knocked when he returned about five minutes later, hanging six dresses on the wall for me. "When you're ready, join us in the showing room, and we can adjust the fit and see what the bride thinks." He told me. I shouted 'Thanks!' through the door before turning to decide which dress I wanted to try first. 

 “Wow.” I murmured looking at myself in the mirror. From the tag on the dress I learned it’s a ‘long chiffon dress with halter neckline.’ I didn’t really understand what any of those words meant, but this dress was…amazing. It made me feel like a goddamn princess. 

“What’s taking so long!” I heard Tina shout.

“Give me a minute, you drunk!” I walked out of the dressing room, towards where Tina was sitting.

“Holy shit.” I laughed and spun around.

“It’s pretty good, right?” She got up and walked towards me.

“You’re getting this one. No question. I’m not letting you leave without it!”

“Are you sure? I can try a light-yellow dress if you want.”

“No, this one is perfect.” She smashed her cheek on mine and we both looked at ourselves in the mirror. I was smiling so wide my face was starting to hurt. She quickly grabbed her phone and snapped a picture of us, and I laughed.

“Tina!”

“What! I want to remember this moment.” She kissed my cheek. “I can’t wait to come back here with you when Gavin proposes.” She teased, causing you to laugh. 

“We’ve gone on one date! How much champagne have you had?” She shook her head.

“Just three glasses, I’m drunk on happiness! Come on, change back and buy that dress!” I laughed and walked back to the changing room. I picked up my phone and saw Tina had sent me the picture already. Smiling, I sent the picture to my dad.

 Got my dress for the wedding!

 Beautiful kiddo!

[hazel-writes]

Summary: A nightmare, a new friend, and an old enemy — your first official day of work gets off to an interesting start.

Notes: This is a dialogue-heavy chapter, sorry!

Word Count: 2,200

Warnings: minor canon-typical violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

For when your troubles start multiplyin',

And they just might,

It's easy to forget them without tryin'

With just a pocketful of starlight

• Catch a Falling Star - Perry Como •

Panic. Complete and utter panic. You are searching for something, but you can’t seem to find it. You need this thing to survive. Where the kriff is it?!!

A bang. Heavy footsteps. A scream; your scream. You are being dragged away, helpless, no one around to save you.

Eventually you feel your bare feet hit freezing cold ground, but it’s a sinister voice that sounds from above you that chills you to the bone.

You sit up with a start, panting heavily. You hadn’t had a dream like that in a while. This one was scary, but what really terrified you was how strangely familiar it felt. It’s probably just the stress, you thought.

You looked at the clock across the room: 5:13. You were too anxious to go back to sleep and you had to get up in an hour anyways, so you decided to get ready for the day.

You showered, brushed your teeth, and inspected your closet for something to wear. You chose a dark grey tunic with a matching grey skirt that went just below your knees. In typical First Order fashion, you pulled your hair into a tight bun. Looking in the mirror, you barely recognized yourself.

No, this wouldn’t do.

Still feeling a bit rebellious from yesterday's encounter with the injured stormtrooper and General Hux, you decided to leave your hair down like you did on Lothal, two loose braids winding around the sides of your head, the rest of it gently cascading over your shoulders.

Better.

Content with your appearance, you headed straight for the cafeteria. You didn’t recognize most of the food — It all looked like gray mush compared to the vibrant, fresh foods your parents cooked back home.

Lothal was known for its large farm-based economy and culture, something you took immense pride in. Lothalians had fought hard to preserve their land, as it was often victim to exploitation by those with galactic authority. Many times the planet was under imperialist occupation, namely the former Galactic Empire. During those times, the planet was essentially destroyed, its sacred habitats burnt to a crisp. Natural resources were depleted, pollution enveloped the air, and Lothalians were either forced into a life of servitude or were killed. A small group of rebels, called the Spectres, led a resistance effort against the Imperial occupiers, eventually succeeding in driving them out. Since then, relations between Lothal and the First Order were tense, which explained some of General Hux’s disdain towards you. Lothal, however, managed to restore its previous prosperity and you had been lucky enough to grow up in relative peace.

Right now, all you longed for was your favorite fruit, jogan, but it didn’t look like you were going to find it here anytime soon. With a sigh, you settled for the indistinct mush and sat down at a table in the corner.

Since you woke up so early, you were the only one in the cafeteria, but you didn’t mind. You were actually thankful — this meant no more run-ins with stormtroopers, generals, or ridiculously tall men in capes.

After forcing down the last of the mush, you strolled the hallways, attempting to somewhat gain your bearings before your first official day of work. You pulled out the map you had been provided and followed its twists and turns to the yellow dot labeled: Office of Imperial Promotion, Galactic Truth, and Fact Correction.

As you rounded the last corner, you saw a door a dozen feet away which appeared to be guarded by a stormtrooper. This must be it, you thought.

You apprehensively approached the door, willing your feet to move forward with more confidence than they were. As you reached for the handle, you did your best to avoid the trooper’s gaze. Suddenly, he reached his arm out towards you.

Terrified, you stumbled backwards, hitting your head on the wall behind you. The trooper advanced, both arms now outstretched.

You protectively put up your arms as well, attempting to shield your head from any incoming injury — but it never came.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” You heard the trooper say, his hands now raised in surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s me!”

Your hands were shaking as you lowered your arms slightly. You tried to think of any stormtroopers you knew. Not any on the Finalizer, you thought.

“I- I’m sorry. Who are you?” You stuttered.

“Oh, right!” He gestured lazily to his mask. “This ol’ thing.” He sighed and shook his head.

He spoke unlike you’d ever heard a trooper speak before. He sounded kind, normal even! Normal… Something clicked and you started to put the pieces together.

“You - you were the one I found in the hallway!”

You were shocked; you thought for sure you had left him to die. A stab of guilt pierced your heart.

“Yeah, that’s me, good ol' Mr. Concussion!”

“I thought you were... Well, I thought you were going to be-” you started.

“Trust me, I’ve been through much worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly. You paused, looking him over in astonishment and thoughts running wild. What piece of space junk sent him back to work the day after receiving a head injury?

“You should be lying down, or resting, or getting treatment in the med bay, or-”

“Wow," he said. "You sure worry a lot about other people for someone who doesn’t worry enough about themselves.”

“Why do you say that?” you questioned sceptically.

“Well, going through with that stunt yesterday, you not only risked your career for me, a stranger, but you risked your life as well.”

When you didn’t respond, he paused for a second, reaching behind him to reveal the large First Order coat you had used to stop his bleeding the day before. Hux’s coat.

“I take it this isn’t yours?” He asked, knowingly. You imagined a small smirk forming under his helmet.

You responded with a breathy laugh. “No, it most definitely is not. That used to belong to General Hux, but now it’s yours, I suppose.”

His eyes widened in a mix of shock, fear, and a hint of admiration.

“Son of a blaster, how’d you manage that?” He replied.

“Well, I uhh- I just kinda took it from him?”

“You just kinda took it from him?” he repeated, stunned.

“Without his permission…” you continued, quieter this time.

The trooper just stared at you in shock, and you started to feel uncomfortable. Maybe he thought you were crazy. Maybe he would turn you in. Maybe he would bring you to Kylo R-

A laugh bellowed from behind his mask, slightly distorted.

“You!” A laugh. “And Hux, how-” More laughter. “Without his permission-” He could barely get his words out between laughs.

This was the first time you’d heard laughter since arriving on the Finalizer, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. As his laughter mellowed, he sighed and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

“I’m FN-2187.”

FN-2187, you thought. “That’s hardly a name…”

He shrugged. “It’s the one I was given.”

You thought for a second. “Mind if I give you a new one, to be used privately of course,” you clarified.

He looked taken aback, even through the helmet. “Yeah, that would be… okay.”

You paused, thinking. “How about I call you Finn?”

“Finn… Yeah, I like that,” he said. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. My friends back home call me Wren, but it’s probably better you call me by my real name here,” you said, referencing the Finalizer.

He nods, and after telling him your name, you drop his hand. He looks around the hallway before moving a step closer to you.

“In all seriousness, thank you. No one has ever asked for more than my trooper code, and no one ever stops when… you know...,” He trailed off, lowering his gaze, that sadness you sensed from him yesterday having returned.

“Hey,” you reached out and placed a gentle hand on his armored shoulder. “We got each other’s backs now, right? We’ll make it outta here in one piece. Maybe we can steal Hux’s toupee next time.” You winked at him, making him chuckle.

“Ha, yeah, that’d be great,” he replied.

At that moment, the Ginger General himself rounded the corner of the hallway, followed by two obedient stormtroopers.

You started to feel the panic building again. Had he heard what I said? Is he coming to fulfil his promise of my death by trash compactor?

“It’s alright,” Finn reassured. “Follow my lead.”

Kicking Hux’s bloodied jacket behind the door, Finn moved to stand in front of you a few feet. You started to follow him, but he held his arm back, keeping you in place. Finn stood at attention as Hux neared, and you attempted to make yourself as small as possible. You noticed that his coat seemed a few sizes too big, and you chuckled internally, knowing that you were the reason for that.

“Ah, I see you have yet again managed to involve yourself in the business of pathetic stormtroopers,” he spat.

You glanced down to Finn’s fists, which were clenched in anger.

“No, General. I was just asking for directions” you replied.

Hux’s eyes slowly trailed over your body, like a predator stalking his prey. Finn subtly shifted his balance back and forth, continuing to clench and unclench his fists. The General’s eyes came to land on your hair, which he scowled at disapprovingly. He began to approach you, and as he did, you noticed Finn start to move towards you. You made a small gesture with your hand, pleading with him to stay back. He listened, reluctantly.

Hux grabbed a chunk of your hair. “This is not within protocol,” he seethed.

“Neither is that coat, General,” you replied, gesturing to his oversized garb.

You had no idea where the sudden burst of confidence had come from, but you immediately regretted your comment as Hux pulled harder, causing you to wince in pain. He pulled his face to your ear.

“Strike two,” he whispered threateningly, before shoving you back into the wall and turning around, almost knocking into Finn.

Expecting Finn to move out of the way, Hux waited, but neither of them stirred. The two were locked in a stalemate for what seemed like eons. Finn eventually sidestepped, letting him pass, and with a final glare, Hux and the troopers continued walking down the hallway.

You leaned against the wall, rubbing your now-sore head. As soon as Hux and the troopers were out of sight, Finn rushed over to you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, concerned. His armored hand helped you smooth down your disheveled hair.

“Yeah,” you replied shakily.

“I could’ve helped,” he stated dejectedly, a hint of frustration laced in his tone.

“I know… I just didn’t want to see you get hurt — again,” you responded stubbornly, giving him a small tap on the side of his helmet.

“Hey, this whole saving each other’s lives thing only works if it goes both ways,” he argued.

“Save your saving for another time. I’m sure I’ll need it soon enough.”

He sighed. “I really hope that isn’t true.”

Silence filled the hallway before you had a sudden realization.

“Hey, how did you know who I was when I first walked up? You were unconscious when I found you yesterday…,” you asked, perplexed.

“When I woke up in the med bay, I asked the nurses how I got there. They told me I arrived with the help of a girl from this sector of the ship. So I came here and waited. I don’t know how, but I just knew when I saw you — you were the one who had saved me.”

“Oh,” you replied, still puzzled.

“Yeah, pretty weird, huh?” He paused. “Anyways, I should let you get to work — wouldn’t want you to be late.”

“Right,” you replied. “I guess I’ll see you around then Finn.”

“I hope so, coat thief,” he said with a smirk, placing a large hand on your shoulder. “Stay safe out there.”

“I’ll try my best, Mr. Concussion,” you replied, making your way to the door of your new workplace before directing a final wave back at Finn. You watched as he walked down the hallway, stopping at the very end to turn and salute you. You chuckled. At least I made one friend today, you thought.

You pondered over your father’s words of wisdom: nothing bad can ever come from helping those in need. So yeah, maybe that wasn’t completely true. But you could amend the advice a bit, taking today’s events into account: something good will always come from helping those in need. So far, despite everything you had gone through, that seemed to remain true.

With a new spring in your step, you smoothed your uniform, fixed your hair, and held your head high as you walked into your first official workspace, feeling prepared for whatever else you would have to face throughout the day.

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

Previous || Masterlist || Next

[laylacooke]

Don’t Be Suspicious || Luce & Layla

timing: Late July, Midnight parties: @divineluce & @laylacooke summary: Luce & Layla have an unexpected meeting in the woods in the middle of the night. 

The one benefit that had come out of the fidget spinner ordeal had been the ability to throw out claws and teeth when a fight came. Partially transforming hurt, but it had become easier when it came to needing protection. However, it was the fine art of fully transforming at will, that Layla was focused on. It had been something that had scared her greatly for multiple reasons. The immense pain of shifting, being one, but the fear of killing somebody again, being the biggest. It’s why her need to find a good place in her head and her heart where she could have full control over the shifting was important, and it’s why she had ventured out to White Crest National Park to try and work on her werewolf skills on her own. However, having been in the same spot trying to focus had led to nothing but frustration, which eventually led to Layla letting out a frustrated growl that echoed through the trees.

“Get back here, you piece of shit--” Luce growled as she ran through the woods, her lungs burning as she chased the creature down, her sword haphazardly rattling in its sheath as she pursued the monster. It wasn’t anything particularly hard to handle, just your run of the mill ghoul-- but still. She’d been running in the forest a few nights ago when she’d realized that she was being watched, being followed. Which is why she was back here now, turning the tables. She’d been through so much bullshit; she didn’t need to add a ghoul stalking her back to her cabin to the list. As she ran through the trees, a growl rang out through the woods, startling her. “What the fuck?” She said, as she slid to a stop, staring through the darkness around her. “Someone out there?” Luce asked. Or was it something?

Falling to her knees in pain, the young werewolf still couldn’t figure out the way to fully shift voluntarily. What was she doing wrong? Every full moon it came naturally leaving her broken and sick, until the animal took over giving her new life, but right now, all she could feel was newly formed fangs and claws which left her mouth aching and her hands sore, “Why won’t you change?!” The frustration running through her blood left her clawing and gripping handfuls of dirt before flinging it into the distance. But a voice stopped her from doing anything else. Animal instinct forcing her to sniff the air, Layla’s yellow eyes darted around looking for the culprit. The scent of a human and the sound of their heartbeat gave the young werewolf what she needed to go hunting, but she still had control and knew she had come out here for a reason, “I don’t want any trouble, okay?” Her eyes scanned the forest as she climbed back to her feet, “I just came out here to hike.” Yes, it was partly a lie, but maybe it would be enough to get the person to leave.

As Luce made her way through the trees, she saw a fallen form in the middle of the woods, clawing at the dirt. Stopping in her tracks, her hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword. Not that she thought she’d have to use it, but… after that shit with the demon voice changing Santa in the woods and her run in Shocky Mc-Fuck-You, she was wary of things that lurked around the woods. Even though the national park was one of the safer places in White Crest, it never hurt to be careful. But, when a voice came from the crouched figure, she relaxed, hand resting on her hip instead. “You hurt or something?” She asked, wondering why this girl was out here in the middle of the night. Luce was looking for trouble, but not this kind. She was in the business of fucking up some of the ghouls and monstrous creatures that roamed the woods, not rescuing injured hikers. But, if she had to, she would. “You fall and twist your ankle?” She asked, clicking the small flashlight secured around her arm, the beam cutting through the darkness. 

Layla kept her head turned and her fists clenched. The last thing she had wanted was to scare this woman, or worse, get into a fight with her. If anything, the redhead just wanted to be left alone. Find her peace and go back home. Ari and Ulf had probably been wondering where she was at, and Indy needed to be fed, “No, I was just out. Wanted to see the stars. I hear it’s pretty in this area at night.” Her face was aching from the fangs and blood seemed to drip down where they had forced their way out of her skull and gums. It was her heartbeat that was keeping them out, along with her claws. The fear of what this random person might do to her. However, before she could turn her head quickly enough out of the path of the light, she felt it hit her eyes and reflect off of her yellowed hues revealing that she wasn’t exactly human.

“Uh huh.” Luce said, nonplussed by the words. Out. To see the stars. It sounded a lot like the excuses she had made when Roland had caught her out in the woods. Well, she wasn’t a cop and she wasn’t going to go bothering some random girl in the woods if she wanted to be out here alone. With a shrug, she was about to move on with her night, make some comment about staying out of her hair when she saw the flash of yellow in the girl's eyes, a familiar shade she’d once seen glint in Ulfric’s. A werewolf. Huh. Well, how about that. “Just wanted to see the stars huh?” She said before tilting her gaze up. “The moon’s really bright tonight. Pretty.” She said with an offhand comment as she leaned back to look skywards, the sword on her hip glinting in the moonlight. 

It was too late, and there was no use in turning her head. The woman had clearly seen what Layla was. It was apparent in her voice and the comments that were coming out of her mouth. The glint from the sword caught Layla’s eye, and she slowly started to back away, “Please. I’m not out here to hurt anybody. I didn’t think anyone would be out here this late, and I knew it would be a good time to...try and figure some things out.” She didn’t want to outright say what she was. It was clear this woman already knew. Her heart was beating a little harder in her chest at the fear of what might happen, and she had started to pant.

As the girl began to back away slowly, it didn’t take a genius to realize what had her spooked. Ah, shit. Luce let out a sigh and held her hands up. “I’m not a hunter, don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. I was just out here,” She paused, not sure how to answer. She’d literally just said she wasn’t a hunter. And she wasn’t. She was just out here… trying to make the woods a little safer, deal with some pesky ghouls that had a knack for making a mess of things. “On a hike. And in a place like this? It never hurts to have protection.” She said with a shrug. “Are you sure you don’t need any help? You don’t exactly look like you’re in good shape there.” She said, glancing at the way the girl’s hands were inhuman and gnarled. 

The woman had a point. The woods of White Crest weren’t exactly the safest and knowing that reasoning made her feel a little less stressed. However, Layla still wasn’t fond of being around someone with a huge sword, “I guess that’s a good point. No pun intended...” She looked down at her hands, “Um, they should heal up on their own when my stupid claws go back in.” She hated not being able to have full control over herself. It made her unsure and leery when she was forced into certain situations. Layla’s intent was never to hurt anyone. As a werewolf, she couldn’t control that hunger. She had tried, but as a human, she was determined to keep those around her as safe as possible, even if that spelled bad news or pain for herself, “So hiking in the middle of the night huh?” She was starting to become a little more comfortable knowing that the woman’s vibe wasn’t really as hostile as she once presumed it to be.

Watching as the girl looked down at her hands, Luce cracked a crooked grin at the joke. “Like I said, I’m not going to hurt you. Just gonna have to trust me on that one.” She said. There was a certain irony in the fact that she was meeting another red-headed werewolf-- seemed like Ulfric wasn’t the only ginger wolf running around in these hills. But she wasn’t about to out him to some random werewolf in the woods. “Well, as long as they heal up fine, sounds good to me.” She said with a shrug. At the further question, Luce raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I said, right? Insomnia’s a bitch.” She said. She wasn’t even going to attempt to explain what she was doing out here. Besides, she had a feeling getting rid of the local ghoul problem wouldn’t do much to reassure the girl that she wasn’t a hunter. “Besides, you’re out here too, kid.”

“Yeah, I got that. Look, these things...I can’t make them go back in.” She held up her hands flashing her claws. “That’s why I’m out here. Trying to learn how to control what I was forced to become...” Her words kind of trailed off. Layla hated being a werewolf. She had learned to forget what she most of the time, but when it would come creeping back in, the regret held heavy in her heart. Shaking off that same feeling that seemed to be coming in stronger than before, she looked Luce in the eyes, “Yeah, insomnia is an absolute bitch.” Letting out a soft sigh, she decided a truce was in order in case they were to run into each other again in the future, “Name’s Layla. Consider this my way of trying to draw some kind of truce that if we see each other out here again, we either go our separate ways or are friendly to one another. Thoughts?”

At the girl’s words, Luce’s eyebrows raised even higher. What she was forced to become? What, was she some kind of bite victim? Luce didn’t know much about werewolves outside of what Ulfric had told her over drinks from time to time, but she’d only ever known born wolves. Then again, she had no idea what Ariana was, but she wasn’t exactly going to ask the girl. She had a feeling that talking about the girl’s background might… bring up some bad memories. The thought of Celeste, of their brief date in the woods not all that far from here, came back to the forefront and Luce shifted uncomfortably. “A truce? You make it sound like I’m out here trying to start shit. I already said I wasn’t gonna hurt you. Twice, in fact. So, chill.” She said before shaking her head. “If you try and go off on me, you won’t like it. But whatever, kid. Next time I see a red wolf running around, I’ll look the other way.” Luce snorted. 

Geeze, she reminds me of somebody, but I just can’t… “Uh, excuse you, I didn’t come out here sportin’ a huge ass sword. Who carries a sword anyways? This isn't King’s Landing.” Fucking bounty hunter. That’s who she reminds me of. “And I guess we’re not doing the name thing, huh?” Layla’s claws and teeth were beginning to go back in. Feeling threatened went out the window. “And if I see someone carrying a big ridiculous sword on their hip like Jaime Lannister, I’ll look the other way. So, I guess we’re on some sort of mutual ground. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t expect you to shake on it.” 

At the girl’s comment, Luce let out a short sigh before shaking her head. She honestly didn’t want to start shit with a wolf, she really didn’t. Ulf had warned her that wolves could be dangerous, and here was a young girl who’d been turned and was sitting there with her claws and teeth out. Not exactly someone she wanted to fuck with. “Luce. And yeah, I’m not about to shake on it.” She made a scratching gesture with her hands before pointing at the girl’s hands. “Sure. Mutual ground works for me.” With a sigh she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Well, if you’ve got this whole… tooth and claw situation on lock, I’m gonna go.” She said before backing away from the girl, returning into the darkness of the forest. The ghoul problem would have to wait for another night-- when there weren’t teen wolves in the woods.

[watchmebackflip75]

How to Train Your Wizard

Maybe I wrote a RED SHOES story involving a Viking. No it’s not those dragon riding Vikings. 

xx

SourceURL:https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142545        How to Train Your Wizard - BleedingHeart911 - Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs (2019) [Archive of Our Own]    

… The mermaids of the beach found the tourist humans too odd by a starfish-half. Giant umbrella over their fully clothed bodies; these landmaids were in the wrong climate. The strange landfolk separated from nature further by sitting in lounging chairs as if the boulders in the ocean weren’t cool enough.

“Gotta love that sun.” Snow White said under her sunhat. In one hand she fanned her soft chin, in the other her fingers laced in her boyfriend’s hand.

“Yes, and this fresh sea breeze.” Merlin said dozily, his eyelids closing under his sun-obstacles. He snapped his long fingers and a candle enchanted with bug-repellent burned green and smelled like a sunflower. They sighed in unison, their cares slipping away.

The cawing of seagulls became the yelps of scared mermaids. Snow and Merlin open a single eye each to see a wooden dragon raging towards the shoreline.

“Who would think building a giant dragon puppet easier than taking the beast as a pet?” Merlin asked as he dropped his lite beach-rob. He flipped through the spell-cards in his belt-satchel.

“Sweetie, that’s a Viking’s ship. You might want to pull out a big zapper.” Snow said as she closed their umbrella. Merlin had his magic, she had the strength to stab and whack. They sped-walked to the gentle waves, weapons in hand but allowing the strangers to arrive.

“Never fought a Viking before. Heard they’re like minotaur-pirates without dental plans.” Merlin said, watching the huge sails.

“That’s the stereotype. It’s not untrue but I’ve known some exceptions.” Snow said as the boat pushed into the sand.

Merlin smirked, he thought about asking if his princess had known a lot of disgusting pirates growing up in the sheltered ballrooms. He didn’t ask since the horned, hairy, man-like fiends jumped onto the beach, shaking the earth.  

The hairy beasts groaned in warning, weapons in hand though they stood in wait. A huge, maybe seven-foot-tall, yellow-haired beast jumped off the side. His smell made Merlin’s stomach turn.

“I’m going to hit him with a soap-spell first.” Merlin said as he raised a spell-card.

Snow grabbed his hand, “Wait a minute. Brutechel?”

Under the unruly hair and horned-helmet Merlin saw bright blue eyes and the scruffy stubble of a young man’s sickly smile.

“Snow! You’re alright!” The Viking exclaimed, swinging his mallets over his head.

Snow laughed and ran into Brutechel’s hug. The Viking’s thick muscles had no problem raising Snow off her feet in a twirl. The sight disgusted Merlin; he felt a flicker of lightning trickle up his thin arms.

Brutechel placed Snow back on the sand and held her fair little hands in his hammy ham-hands.

“I wanted to come sooner- when I heard about your step-mother –“

“It’s fine, we’re fine. You had your reasons for not-“

“No, my chief hid your letters. He had- I had no idea… You must have thought I was the most selfish son of troll.” Brutechel said with regret.

“Never.” Snow’s big brown eyes looked up at the young man two-heads taller than she.

Brutechel sighed deeply with tears of joy. “Thank Odin you’re alright.”

“Yes, she is.” Merlin stated loudly, stepping to Snow’s side. He put an arm around her possessively and said, “Hi, I’m the hero who saved the White Castle, among others. Merlin, leader of the Fearless Seven, I’m sure you heard of us.”

“Thought you guys were a democracy.” Snow said, dropping her hands from Brutechel’s grip.

“When my quick thinking and skill can’t find an advantage, yes we can be.” Merlin amended.

“Oh, yeah I have heard the F Seven. Thought they died a year ago?” Brutechel said, eyeing the overly-groomed fishbone holding Snow.

“Sabbatical.” Snow shrugged slightly annoyed with Merlin’s bragging, “So yeah, Brutechel this is Merlin, Merlin this is my dear old…. Brutechel.”

Both boys heard her take a beat to avoid using ‘old/ ex boyfriend’.

“Uh-huh.” Brutechel said, folding his ox-like muscles across his chest.

“Yep.” Merlin said with a pop of his lips.

Snow groaned through a smile and pushed Merlin’s hand off her shoulder. “Bea, tell me you didn’t come all this way just for me and my problems.”

“I would’ve crossed any seas if I thought you were in danger.” Brutechel said gently.

Merlin tried to say something but Snow spoke over him with, “Then the least we can do is invite you to dinner.”

“I’d be honored, Snow Bunny.” Brutechel said, barely moving his eyes from Snow, “That alright with you, chum?”

“Of course, and allow me to cook for you, bud.” Merlin said with a very fake smile.

“I’ll bring something over, that fine with you, Murray?” Brutechel said unamused.

“Don’t go out of your way, Brutus, any allergies I should know about?” Merlin asked stepping closer.

“Nope, but I don’t eat meat or dairy, dude.” The Viking said, crouching over string-bean.

“You’re a Vegan Viking, lad?” Merlin asked, noticing a few teeth were metal and gold.

“You bet your pointy hat, pal.” Brutechel said, wondering when non-Viking men started wearing perfume.

Merlin held back a flicker of lightning in his palm, “We’ll keep that in mind, and don’t trouble yourself with dessert. I know a guy.”

“I know a guy, too.” Brutechel said, curling and uncurling his fist.

“Oh boy,” Snow said drily, she clapped her hands, “You guys, hey.”

They both stared at her, their postures aligned to pounce.

“How about we all agree to meet at the castle around sunset? That good for you, Brutechel?”

The smelly oaf softened, “Oh course, Bunny, I look forward to tonight.”

“Me too.” Snow said sweetly as she grabbed Merlin’s arm, “Let’s go get ready.”

“Of course, my darling.” Merlin said, looping his arm around Snow’s elbow. “Now don’t you pillage when we turn our backs.”

Snow pinched his arm and they waved to the Vikings to Brutechel’s horde. The couple noticed some had buckets of popcorn. The Vikings waived back in a friendly manner.

On Risky Rock, Arthur’s laugh dug so deep the side of his dwarf-green abbs began to ache.

“Pure barry,” Merlin’s oldest friend said while beating the table. “Snow use to date a Viking? One of those lugs would use you like a toothpick. This has to be killing you, Merlin!” “Shut up, Arthur.” Merlin said while pouting in his chair at their oval table.

“Poor Merlin, the cute cure to your curse came with some burly baggage.” Jack said, also still green, small and polishing his nails to a shine. Pino, Noki and Kio stated different similes for Jack’s alliteration.

“I really can’t see how a girl as lovely and demur as Snow would ever even think of going near one of those filthy vandals.” Merlin said, relieved he could complain far from his girlfriend’s ears.

“Ah, la vache, you would’ve said the same thing about your squat little self when she met you.” Jack countered. Arthur was still chortlings, rolling on the floor.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “I really doubt there’s anything hidden in that bear. But it is so like her to take a stray home and try to bathe it.”

“I’ve tried to do the same thing will all of you.” Jack stated, causing Hans’ brow to wrinkle in confusion. The ginger chef came out with meatless stroganoff in a glass dish with painted candies dancing around the sides.

“Here, Merlin, I replaced the beef with tofu.” Hans said. He liked trying an old dish with a new twist.

“Right, I’ll return it tomorrow.” Merlin said, he wondered if he poisoned the tofu would it hurt Hans’ feelings. After he closed the door his friends hovered at the oval table.

“We’re going to that dinner, right?” Hans asked in the huddle.

“Affirmative.” Pino said cheerfully.

“You got that right.” Said Niko.

“Let’s bring a boardgame.” Kio said.

In the White Castle the princess set the table. The incident of her step-mother, may she rest in peace, turning her entire court and staff into trees made rehiring very difficult. Princess Snow didn’t mind setting the table, it reminded her of childhood tea parties. The memories of the princess guests judging her when she ate a cookie or scone wasn’t so nice. Snow accepted the past, forgave the foolish, remembered how Princess Katherine got kicked by a unicorn for being too boney and looked forward to her future.

“Have you thought about hiring elves? I hear they’re inexpensive.” Merlin said as he folded the napkins into swans.

“I sent notice, and I offered to pay them above the average non-human rate. Did you know Elves can catch all the same diseases we can and still don’t get health insurance?” Snow said, lighting candles.

“Shame. But they should be grateful at least one saintly princess cares.” Merlin said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“Aww. Oh, thanks for getting Hans’ dish.” Snow said, raising the lid to see the home-rolled pasta Hans made. He rolled two different colored pastas to look like a candy cane swirl.

“Gladly. Do something for me, darling?” Merlin asked with a handsome smile.

“What’s that?”

“Cancel on Brute-a-chelli and enjoy a private dinner with me?”

“Merlin.” Snow said in a balanced tone.

“Whhhhhy are you making me hang out with the man who’s obviously still in love with you? How do you think that makes me feel??” Merlin whined.

Snow put a hand to her hip and raised her fingers as she made these points; “Okay, One; he’s not still in love with me, two: he’s a great guy I think you’d like after you get to know him, three: because I want to remain friends with Brutechel he needs to see the wonderful man I’ve chosen.”

The doubt that any man would be evolved enough to see his former love happy with a new beau ran deep in Merlin. He carefully considered choosing his words so he could squash her hopes in the most respectful route.

Snow placed her hands on his chest. “How about this? You really try to be nice tonight and after I’ll show you the flexible Valkyrie dress in my closet.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, “Bribe accepted.”

Brutechel brought a salad in what looked like a giant yak skull. Merlin didn’t like pesto but he generously complimented the inscriptions carved in the bone-bowl. Brutechel the Kittenish was an animal lover. He had a zoo of pets on his ship and more at home; all rescues. At age six he tamed a sabertooth tiger and dedicated the rest of his life to respecting and caring for beasts found during sailing by the family business. Officially the ‘family business’ was exclusive pottery and dishes from ‘recycled’ materials. The wizard found the doe-eyed Viking simple and boring. Merlin became less jealous the more Brutechel droned on about different feeding tests. To his joy he noticed Snow was only polite with the guest, she appreciated the kindness but was only just not asleep in her goblet.

“Oh look, the bottle’s getting low. Excuse me, I’ll grab a refill. Any preference?” Merlin merrily asked.

Brutechel took the last glup of his goblet. “More of this, please.”

“Yes, thank you.” Snow said, her porcelain cheeks a light pink.

Brutechel watched the skinny snob leave the room. He searched for his courage and gazed at the glorious queen before him.

“So how’s your cousin with the pegle-“

“Bunny, I love you!” Brutechel admitted, his eyes wide with seriousness.

A lump formed in Snow’s throat. “What?”

“I am crazy about you, so how about we leave and talk about the rest of our lives for the rest of our lives?” Brutechel said, leaned him large hands over to hold her.

Snow gently whacked them with her soup spoon. “Brutechel, no! How can you say that to me with my boyfriend around?”

“He’s not around now. And Bunny, come on, he can’t protect you from bears.” Brutechel said, surprised she wasn’t thanking him for the out from the malnourished lizard.

“Why do you always bring it back to bears?” Snow winced and raised her hands, “No, I am not engaging in this conversation again. I say no, Bea.”

“But he’s so…. Shrimpy!”

“He’s also kind and clever and cute in all the ways and I choose him.” Snow said, putting a hand over her heart.

Brutechel felt his heart drop. He looked over Snow’s shoulder to see the smug sorcerer dancing and meeting his eyes with a poking tongue.

“I’m not sorry, I love Merlin.” Snow continued, not aware in the slightest the Merlin was making insulting gestures of victory to the denied suitor.

“You sure about that?” Brutechel asked, growing agitated at the arrogant snake’s dance.

“Yes.” Snow said with resound certainty, “I love him with all my heart.”

Brutechel groaned, “I want you to be happy, Snow White. I should go.”

“I do want you to be happy too, Bea.” Snow said, she felt pity that such a kind soul hadn’t found his right person yet.

The Viking slung his bear-skin over his shoulder and said not to worry about returning the skull-bowl.

Slipping back to the pantry Merlin soundlessly stomped the floor in glee. He picked a random wine bottle, did a twirl, and swung his arms without shame. He had no idea the Dwarf Six were watching him under Jack’s invisibility cloak. He muffled their laughter and followed the goofy friend to the dinning hall entrance. Merlin exhaled his delight and put on a façade of indifference when he approached Snow.

“Here we are, darling. How’s your goblet, Brutty? Oh my goodness, where did he go?” Merlin asked in phony surprise.

“He said he had to turn in for an early sail.” Snow fibbed, her face a little slumped.

“I see. Oh, dear. I’m sorry you’re disappointed.” Merlin wasn’t completely fibbing.

“It's how it goes.” Snow said as he kissed the top of her head.

“It’s getting late, we can raincheck the skimpy outfit you promised me.” Merlin said, he was already happy with the night so he could extend the excitement.

“Really? Honestly yeah, I’m not feeling it right now.” Snow said, placing her napkin on her plate. “I’ll clean up if you get the pillows cleared off.”

“I’ll clean, you get the cuddle chamber ready.” Merlin said as he took Hans’ dishware to the kitchen. Placing the dish in soapy water Merlin caught his reflection in a shiny tea pot.

“Hello gorgeous,” Merlin said to himself, “The smelly beast is gone and now Snow can get Merlin’d happily.”

Lightly parting his hair Merlin noticed a figure on the slant of the teapot. Instinct had him swiftly crouch down and miss the blow of the sink-size mallet. Merlin jumped up to see Hans’ dishware was intact, good, and he slapped a spell-card on the assailant behind him. The man was four times thicker so there was plenty of target. Merlin slide to the side and clapped his hands for a blast of lightning.

Brutechel blew the smoke from the burnt spot on his pec. The blast stung like a bee.

“Okay, let’s talk about this.” Brutechel offered, he felt a bad sport to attack such a soft puncher.

“Oh lets.” Merlin raised more spells in his fingers, “You got dumped, I make Snow happier,”

The wizard said this as they walked around a kitchen island. “Brute, chum, you can leave with a smidgen of dignity and I can be alone with the woman I adore. Or I zap you until your thick skull is a soup bowl”

Brutechel scoffed as they circled the steak knife set.

“You have tricks up your sleeve where Snow lays out her heart. My Bunny doesn’t need that.” Brutechel said as he threw a ladle at the wizard’s head.

Merlin dodged the ladle and threw a lightning bolt at the Viking's face. The stubble wouldn’t kindle but the ungroomed eyebrows burned clean off. Brutechel grabbed the saucepan and swung it in his palm.

“From what I heard you haven’t a clue what she needs.” Merlin said, he held up his arms so her magic could block the blows. “And you are the worst listener!”

Braced for another punch Merlin felt winded when nothing met his sizzling force fields. He lowered his guard to see Brutechel kneeled on the floor, hands down at his side.

“Go ahead, demon-whisperer, take me out so my Bunny can live in peace.” Brutechel said sadly, offering his thick neck open to a strike.

“Oh get up. As much as I loathe hearing you call my love ‘Bunny’,” Merlin rolled his eyes and shook with revulsion, “it’s no sport to disfigure a martyr.”

Brutechel nodded at the reasoning. He stood up, a head taller than Merlin, and wiped his hands, “If I ever hear you hurt her, I will use your straw arms for oyster forks.”

“Sure. Want a meal for the road, er, sea?” Merlin offered, he pointed to the pantry of fresh vegetables.

“Oh come on!” An oh too familiar voice bellowed from the shadows. Merlin groaned with annoyance while the spooked Brutechel searched for the demon source. Arthur threw off the cloak and slapped Merlin’s thigh.

“Mate, if you don’t defend Snow-belle’s honor I will disown!” The cursed prince said.

“Demon!” Brutechel yelled, grabbing his mallet and aiming to smash the little green monster. The mini monster caught the mallet’s face and pulled it from the Viking’s hand.

“No, I wouldn’t do it right. You can go right ahead.” Merlin said flatly, the two lug-heads were already crashing and destroying the royal kitchen.

The rest of the group sat on the kitchen island, eating the leftovers. One of the triplets shook a dice inside a cup.

“Hey.” Jack nonchalantly said, signaling they would clean up before the sun rose.

“Hey yourself.” Merlin waved in a quiet thanks to his friends. He rolled his neck and walked to Snow’s bedroom.

A lit candle was left on her nightstand. Snow faced away from the glow as she slept. In the pajamas that matched hers Merlin slid between the sheets. He pulled her head under his chin and lightly ran his fingers over her skin.

“You took a while. I should’ve helped washed.” Snow yawned against his neck.

“You're fine, darling. You're perfect.” Merlin quietly told her, he snapped his finger and the flame sparked away.

[strengtheningweakgums]

Strengthening Weak Gums

If you suffer from receding gums, you'll want to find out of an all natural cure for receding gums. While there are lots of over the counter products available, the majority of these don't work. There are certainly a number of remedies which you may use by yourself and they are natural and secure. Read more about How To Strengthen Gums Naturally?

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How To Strengthen Gums Naturally At Home?

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Strengthen Gums Naturally

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Strengthen Gums Naturally At Home

In conclusion, it is possible to obtain an all natural cure for receding gums, if you know the best places to check. But it might be best to consult with your dentist. He or she ought to have the ability to recommend a safe, natural remedy that's safe for your general health.

[belphegor1982]

…it’s done. Finished. My monster Mummy fic, the one I started in 2003, started publishing in 2004, and left dormant since 2008 – I finally completed it o.O Weirdly (or not), this is the chapter which gave me the most trouble, if you don’t count chapters 16 and 17 (which took me 2 and 16 years to write, respectively). It was hard to say goodbye to this story and these characters, even though I knew I literally just had to get an idea for another story :-/

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters on Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23)

Chapter 24: Departure (on AO3 here; on FFnet here)

London, September 1937

A little off Paddington Station, almost in Marylebone, was a small pub called the Stars and Crown, its red brick façade almost exactly similar to the others along the street. It was an unassuming little affair Jonathan liked to patronise every now and then, and not just because it happened to be situated not too far from his flat.

It was a balmy mid-September late afternoon and one of the double doors was wide open on the quiet street. Jonathan and Tom were seated by one of the stained-glass windows, drinking – G&T and a ginger beer, respectively – and talking. Jonathan, remembering the promise he’d made after blowing up Hamilton’s lorry, had bought the rounds.

But for small details like the mostly healed-over scratches on Tom’s hands, the old scar in Jonathan’s left palm, and all the subtler little ways the past two decades had changed them, they might as well have been twenty year old students again.

Well, apart from the subject of their conversation.

“I got off easy, if you ask me.”

“Nonsense. You were the only one who tried to fix this bloody disaster. It’s only fair that you didn’t… You know.”

“…Pay for my mistakes?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

Tom gulped a mouthful of ginger beer, still looking glum.

“I suppose – I know – I should be grateful I didn’t end up like Hamilton, at least.”

Jonathan winced.

Charles Hamilton had made it back to England in a slightly better state than he had made it out of the pyramid, but that wasn’t saying much. From what they had heard, he was lucid for about an hour a day, and that was it – and not very coherent at that. Which made the fact that he allegedly hung himself in his cell a week before his highly sensitive trial very suspicious indeed. The man didn’t appear capable of putting on his trousers on his own, let alone do anything as complex as a slipknot.

The Lord Chancellor’s Department had issued a statement half-heartedly lamenting Hamilton’s demise, the newspapers had stayed surprisingly quiet about it, and Evy had fumed for an entire fortnight. And that had been it. Hamilton had taken the gentleman’s way out. Case closed.

At least Gabriel Baine had been tried, convicted, and sent behind bars for a lengthy period of time. Jonathan didn’t particularly care where he was, as long as he could be elsewhere.

Baine had stated a few times that there hadn’t been anything personal about shooting and ordering his men to shoot Jonathan, Rick, and Tom. Jonathan had silently begged to differ. Baine’s shouts of “Kill them” followed by the sudden excruciating pain in his back, not to mention the confusion and terror as he fought not to die and lost, had felt pretty damn personal.

Tom stared into his glass for a while, then looked up with a brighter expression.

“But enough about this fiasco. How’s your family? I seem to remember your sister’s birthday was coming up, you were lookin’ for a present when we bumped into each other at that bazaar. Did you find one, in the end?”

Jonathan perked up. “I did, actually. Got her a signet ring. She seemed to like it.”

Now that memory he would treasure as long as he lived.

An inventory of his pockets had revealed a hodgepodge of small trinkets which he was still trying to trace. The little medallion with the amethyst cameo must be early Regency, stolen by the pygmy mummies from some unfortunate Napoleon soldier’s corpse; the lapis earring was probably from the Ramesside period (a few Rameses had sent their armies to find or reclaim Ahm Shere, Jonathan had found); the couple of gold and silver rings bearing the Roman SPQR were a little incongruous but easy to chalk up to Julius Caesar’s expedition. There were also some 4th Century Persian coins, proving Alexander the Great’s men had also reached Ahm Shere – the Oasis, anyway – and a number of little amulets from various Egyptian expeditions, mostly heart scarabs made of red and green jasper, copper, quartz, bronze, or gold. He hadn’t determined the nature of the green gemstone yet, saving it for last.

Jonathan had been so excited by his find that he hadn’t gambled a single object. Tracing their origins took time, but he had not even told Evy about it yet. Instead he had not only called on every scrap of expertise he had concerning treasure, but also on every book he could lay his hands on. Evy would have been very surprised – not to mention highly suspicious – if she learned how much time he had been spending at the British Library lately.

He had always enjoyed a good riddle. For some reason this one looked promising enough to justify doing some actual work for. Besides, having the artefacts authenticated meant he would be able to get a much better price selling them.

The only thing he had parted with was the (probable) Napoleon coin, the soft gold nibbled almost beyond recognition by the pygmy mummies’ teeth. Another look at it the morning after his resurrection had given him an idea.

Before they left the Medjai camp, Jonathan had obtained from Ardeth a sketch of Nefertiri’s personal cartouche and the address of a talented goldsmith in Cairo; once back in the city, he had wandered down to Kerdasa, the coin and the folded paper safe in the inside pocket of his (whole and clean) jacket.

Just before he reached the little shop, however, he heard a yelp and a startled cry, and was knocked off his feet by something large and hairy. His vision was filled by long camel’s lashes and lips drawn back on long yellow teeth in what Jonathan might have taken as a smile if he hadn’t known better.

Why did every single camel have to have such foul breath, he wondered.

“��Ahlan1, Djem,” muttered Jonathan with a sigh that was half annoyance, and half amused resignation.

And was astonished when the camel immediately disappeared from view, replaced with a familiar face. Satiah’s big brown eyes went wide when she saw him.

“Oh, it’s you, bāša2. Hello,” she said with a smile.

Jonathan got up and dusted himself off, irritation quickly fading away. The jacket could survive a little dirt; besides, Satiah’s smile as she hung on to Djem’s bit had lost some of its previous shyness. Considering how fearful she had been the last time – and who could fault her for that, really – it almost made getting knocked over by a foul-smelling bag of hair and wind worth it.

“Good morning, Miss Satiah,” he said in Arabic, picking up his hat from the ground so he could salute her with a flourish. Her hand flew to her mouth to hide a giggle. “It’s a stroke of luck finding you, really. I wanted to thank you for your help the other day, and for, er…”

He reached his limits of the language, and finished in English, “I mean, thank you for returning my wallet to my sister. That was very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Satiah said in Arabic, her cheekbones a little pink. “I’m glad you and your friends got away from those men.”

Jonathan’s smile slipped a notch or two, but he rallied quickly enough.

“Yes,” he said just a little wryly, “we did, at that. In the end.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve just reached my destination,” he added, pointing to a door above which hung a sign saying something about gold in painted Arabic script, “so I’m going to wish you a—”

“You’re going to see Cousin Ashar?” Satiah interrupted, her eyes shining. Immediately afterwards she clamped both hands on her mouth and cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. Small world, eh?”

She gave a small smile and led the way into the shop, stopping only to tie Djem to a post.

Ashar – the goldsmith Ardeth had recommended – was a tall, wiry man with a long face, his hair going grey at the temples. He welcomed Satiah warmly and sent her to the backroom to get what she came for. Before she closed the door, she gave Jonathan a little friendly wave, which he returned with a smile. Ashar gave him an odd but not hostile look, eyebrows raised.

Jonathan placed his order, left the coin, and was about to leave, when Ashar called him back, frowning slightly.

“You’re one of the O’Connells, aren’t you.”

Jonathan’s mouth opened and closed as though of its own accord.

“You could say that, yes,” he said finally. “Why?”

“Because word of the second raising of Anubis’ Army made it to Cairo recently.”

This time Jonathan’s mouth dropped open and remained like that for a handful of seconds. Ashar gave something that was almost a smile.

“Not all of us wear the ritual tattoos, you know.”

“I do know,” Jonathan articulated with only the slightest difficulty. Dr Hakim was a Medjai, and his face was devoid of any tattoo as well. Dr Bey had been the same, now that he thought of it. His gaze went to the door that led to the backroom. “Satiah, too…?”

“Yes. But her mother’s family has lived in Cairo for fifty years. The girl has never seen the desert. She will get good schooling and find a trade, inshallah3. The time for living legends is coming to an end.” Ashar looked at the cartouche Ardeth had drawn for reference. “I know what this says. Who the name belonged to. Your commission is either a hollow trinket or a great gift.”

Jonathan drew himself up and said, as dignified as he could, “I’m rather hoping for the latter.”

His own signet ring had been gambled and lost in some card game or another, years ago. His parents would have been so disappointed had they still been alive. The least he could do was make sure his sister had a ring of her own, one that paid tribute to the woman she was and the woman she had been, three millennia ago.

Evy’s reaction when she opened his present proved him right, and even surprised him.

She stared into the box long enough for Jonathan’s brain to go into overdrive. Her silence made him panic ever so slightly. Then she looked up at him, her eyes very bright, lower lip trembling.

Jonathan barely suppressed the need to shuffle like a schoolboy and buried his hands into his pockets, hoping his face didn’t give too much away.

“I know I wasn’t… there – or, you know – then,” he said, almost sheepishly. “But I thought… Well. I hoped you’d like it. The cartouche must be right, I got it from Ardeth, and the goldsmith was a bloody good artist, as it turned out, but—”

Evy cut him off by launching herself at him and flinging her arms around his neck, throwing him off balance. As usual, Jonathan stumbled, but managed to catch her in the end.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered into his neck. “Thank you, Jon.”

If his smile was a little wobbly, his eyes a little moist, nobody seemed to notice. Rick and Alex had picked up the little box; Rick’s face lit up in strange recognition, while Alex deciphered the cartouche slowly and grinned.

“Nice one, Uncle Jon. That’s a pretty good present.”

“Yes, about that,” said Jonathan irrepressibly while Evy broke away and wiped her eyes, “I hope you realise that this is the last birthday present you’ll ever get from me, old mum. Since – judging by your reaction – nothing I could give to you could ever top this, I have decided to simply refrain from trying.”

Evy had slapped his arm and called him an idiot with a big smile, then hugged him again. And he had hugged her back, just because he was alive and able to.

The ring hadn’t left her finger since.

“Jon?”

Jonathan was abruptly pulled back to the present, the Stars and Crown, and Tom’s curious smile across the table.

“Hm?”

“You were a thousand miles away.”

“Sorry about that. What about you and Lizzie? Dorset been treating you well, I hope?”

Tom shook his head with a smile.

“It has, sort of, but we’re moving to Oxford. Did Liz tell you she’d been replaced while she was gone?”

Jonathan nodded. Lizzie disappearing for two weeks had not gone unnoticed in her little town, but since the police didn’t have the beginning of a clue and nobody was able to reach Tom, they had moved on to other things and her boss at the telephone exchange had hired someone else. There had been a subtle but definite irony in Lizzie’s letter as she described her and Tom’s return and the scrutiny they’d had to stand up to in order to prove her husband hadn’t killed her and stashed her body away – or vice versa – before his former Chamber of Horus hierarchy stepped in to explain things.

“Well, they needed an operator at the exchange on Pembroke Street. And you know the interview I had this morning at Whitehall? I won’t be too far, as it turns out.” Tom took a deep breath, then said with one of the goofiest smiles Jonathan had ever seen on his face, “I’ll be workin’ from the Bodleian.”

This could only mean one thing. Jonathan grinned.

“The British Antique Research Department accepted your application, didn’t they? Congratulations, old chap. That’s fantastic.”

He downed a mouthful of his G&T and laid an elbow on the table, his chin in his hand.

“Haven’t been to Oxford in almost fifteen years,” he said thoughtfully. “Not since Evy finished her degree. I wonder if the city’s changed.”

“It’s Oxford,” said Tom quietly, looking like his mind was straying down the same path Jonathan’s thoughts were. “I can’t imagine it’ll ever change that much.”

Jonathan smiled quickly into his palm. Then he raised his glass.

“To the two of you, then. And to publicans hopefully not holding grudges, otherwise we’re still banned from half the pubs in Oxfordshire.”

Tom snorted and raised his own glass, now almost empty. “To the three of us, and testing that theory sometime. And let’s not wait two decades this time,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

The two glasses clinked.

For just a second, the decades fell away, and Jonathan was twenty years younger.

Lizzie was already waiting for them on the platform by the time they finished their drinks and walked back to Paddington. She carried a shopping bag that looked entirely too small compared to what should be expected of a woman who’d just spent a few hours in the old metropolis. Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you say you planned to go to Harrods while we were in London?”

“I also said I only needed a new suit and the latest Agatha Christie novel,” she said, light teasing in her tone. “The next one will be out sometime in November, I think. Have you heard what the title will be? Death on the Nile, of all things.”

Jonathan gave a mock shudder. “I might just give this one a miss, then.”

The train’s whistle pierced the air, cutting the rest of the conversation short. Tom picked up his wife’s bag and Lizzie turned to Jonathan with a smile.

“Goodbye, Jonathan,” she said softly.

The use of his first name had always been a signal that the game was paused and the masks were off, as clear as a referee blowing halftime. Jonathan answered in kind, his throat just a little tight.

“Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

They hadn’t even actually said ‘goodbye’ last time. They had just stood there, she leaning out the train window in her brand-new nurse’s uniform, he and Tommy on the platform amidst the soot, the steam, and the throng of people, until the train departed. The memory was an old hurt that still twinged sometimes, like his left shoulder when the weather was bad.

He cleared his throat and smiled.

“See you on the next Christie novel, then?”

What Lizzie did next might have shocked twenty year old Jonathan, who thought he knew her well, and as such very much surprised his current self, who had a little too much experience of the world to truly get shocked anymore. She took his hands in hers, flying in the face of propriety and what had been her rules of conduct in public, and kissed him on the cheek near the corner of his mouth with an aching sweetness. The old Lizzie, so shy and unsure of her self-worth that she was terrified of what people may think, would have been appalled.

It had taken a while for Jonathan to truly grasp how much the years had changed Tommy and start thinking of him as ‘Tom’ to account for that change. Through this apparently simple gesture – simple only to someone who didn’t know Elizabeth Ferguson, née McAllister – Lizzie became ‘Liz’ in an instant.

“I can’t bear to think you died,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “When I think… Without that – that book…”

She took a deep breath. Tom caught Jonathan’s eye and gave a small nod. Of course he had told her. Knowing Liz, she’d take the secret to her grave anyway.

“Take care of yourself, Jonathan, please. The world would be so dreadfully dull without you in it,” she added with a tentative smile, to which he replied with a smile of his own, one that hopefully looked steadier.

“Likewise.”

Her hands tightened around his. Just for a second or two, he softly ran his thumb on the back of her hand, an echo of the old intimacy that used to bind them; then their gazes fell away, their hands separated, and the moment was over.

Tom held out his hand with a smile, and Jonathan’s mind was whisked back to that sunny afternoon in Cairo, almost two months ago, and a chance encounter that had reshuffled the cards in a major way. Tom’s handshake was slower this time, steadier, warmer.

“Bye, Jon.”

“Cheers, Tom,” said Jonathan, determined but failing to swallow the lump in his throat. “Have a pint at the Oxford Arms for me.”

Tom nodded, and added his left hand to the handshake, not saying anything. He didn’t need to. As usual – almost – everything he meant to say was on his face and in his eyes for the world to see.

The train let out a burst of steam. Tom hastily let go and made for the train door, stopping only to help Liz aboard. Jonathan looked wistfully at the train for a minute and was about to turn around and go home when he heard his name being called over the din of the locomotive and the running gears chugging into motion.

Tom and Liz were leaning out of a window, wearing identical wide smiles. Liz was waving, her other arm wrapped tightly around her husband. The light in her eyes and her curly hair whipping around her face made her look like the girl from Jonathan’s memories.

“Send my love to Evelyn!” she called. “And say hello to your brother-in-law for me! You’re all welcome anytime for tea!”

“I’ll make sure they know!” shouted Jonathan as the train gathered speed.

The blatant disregard of platform etiquette made several passers-by turn and stare at him with a touch of glower. Jonathan ignored them and kept his eyes on the departing train. Tom’s and Liz’s beaming smiles remained in his head a long time after they had gone back inside the carriage.

He would see them again. This time he was determined not to leave the possibility of a reunion to chance and the vagaries of life. They had been through too much – both twenty years and two months ago – to just go their separate ways.

Besides, Jonathan mused as he left Paddington behind to wade through the bustling streets, he still had some research to do before he set out to sell the objects he had found at Ahm Shere. The Bodleian Library was as good as the British Library; at least he didn’t risk meeting Evy there and being subjected to her prodding curiosity, which he wasn’t ready to face yet. At least not before he unravelled the mystery of the little gemstone. It looked like an emerald and felt vaguely familiar, as though he had seen it somewhere or heard a story about it.

This required some investigation, if only to be prudent.

After all, he was particularly well placed to know that you can only go so far on fairy tales and hokum alone.

THE END

.⅋.

1(أَهْلًا): informal “hello”, “hi”.

2باشا (bāša): “sir”, “mister” in Egyptian Arabic.

3ʾin šāʾa llāhu, (إِنْ شَاءَ ٱللَّٰهُ‎) – literally “if God has willed it”, “God willing”

Don’t look for the Stars and Crown in Paddington, or the Oxford Arms in Oxford. Unlike the Turf Tavern they’re entirely fictional.

Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile was indeed published on 1st November 1937. I couldn’t resist, I mean, come on ;o)

The Bodleian Library is the main research library in Oxford and one of the oldest in Europe.

If you’re wondering, yes, that little gemstone might be the basis for a sequel of sorts, but I haven’t really started to plot it. Considering my track record for these things you might see that story sometime in the next decade and a half :P

Writing and publishing Fairy Tales and Hokum has been such an adventure. I was 21 when I started writing it; now I’ll be 38 in four days. Much as I miss the old crowd of 2003-2006, reposting and updating the story here on AO3 allowed me to know some awesome people. I’m so glad these characters somehow – FINALLY – sneaked back into my head and my heart again with their quirks, their (updated) backstories, and their voices and allowed me to finish this story the way I wanted to. Like I’ve said before, whenever you started reading this, I hope you had a good time now that you’ve reached the end. If you’ve read and left a signed comment – if you’ve read and left an anonymous comment – if you’ve read and left no comment at all – know that I wrote this for you and I hope some of it made you smile.

Take care of yourselves, love you all, and see you on the next fic? :o)

[thenixart]

Chapter 6: Taxxon!

Sssirin had not been present for the birth of Toby Hamee or for the feast afterward. It was not that they hadn’t been invited, they were a member of the hive, [tribe] as the hork-bajir called it and free to participate in whatever ceremonies they felt like participating in. But they are not mentally hork-bajir, it was difficult to be excited about individual babies. Sssirin’s people laid eggs by the thousands; granted only a few hundred ever hatched at any given time and even fewer made it to adulthood. If the infant even lived that long, however long that actually is for hork-bajir, then Sssririn would be excited.

As it was, natural instinct dictated that grubs meant that the hive needs more food.

Hork-bajir are herbivores. A wild concept really. Sssirin hatched in the desert, most of the hives they knew were from the desert or the mountains. Only once a year after the rains were there any appreciable amount of vegetation at all to lure the herds near. Herds that lived perpetually on the move to follow the rains as to not starve. The idea that there were places in the universe with so much plant life that people could adapt to eating only that was mind-blowing. That this exceptionally verdant planet called Earth was so below the standards of the hork-bajir that they called trees thicker around than Sssirin themself, saplings was staggering.

As it was, they did not strip bark from the trees as they foraged. Not that they were incapable of doing so, quite the contrary as their teeth could tunnel through solid stone and they’d yet to meet a tree that tough. Sssirin only refrained because they were still learning the intricacies of bark harvesting. For her friendly demeanor, Loro Lok was a stern teacher when it came to the health of the trees, one bad cut could lead to the whole organism dying or getting infected and spreading sickness to the surrounding vegetation.

A stressful thought.

That’s why they were delicately snipping green twigs from the ends of bushes and plucking ripe little fruits that their hork-bajir hive mates would find edible. Really only going after things that had similar chemical flavor-scents to foods that Sssirin already knew that hork-bajir eat. No need to accidentally poison anyone. Sssirin sorted all gathered material into baskets of silk and grass attached to their rump to keep their claws free.

The pace of their work was only hampered by the need to indulge in their appetite: a few bites of dirt here, a songbird snatched out of the sky there. Sssirin, of course, knew the cause of the bottomless hunger of their people that constantly needled the mind and made taxxons crave the taste of the flesh of their own people. (More than usual that is. There are plenty of perfectly acceptable reasons to eat taxxon flesh.) The hunger of malnutrition. That no matter how much flesh you filled your belly with, it was never enough, that what you needed was inside the bodies of your comrades. A chemical generally provided by the living hives but due to drought and famine lead their people to abandon the hives for the marginal safety of the surface and then the aliens who promised much and did not deliver.

But something close by smelled like hive fruit. Sssirin increased the airflow through their spiracles and... yes! Nearby was some hive fruit! Somehow on this alien world!? Routing air intake through their mouth cavity they are able to track down the delicious smelling… fungus? It looked enough like a fungus to Sssirin, it had a main body of white strands and a spore-producing fruiting body. Maybe fungi were one of those things that just looked the same everywhere?

Burning need caused Sssirin to voraciously consume the pale pink-yellow fungi and some of the bark of the tree it was attached to and doing the same with the next shelf of the stuff that they found. Filled with shame, Sssirin carefully felled the two trees so that the surrounding vegetation wouldn’t get sick. And then for good measure, they filled the rest of their stomachs with ground bark and leaves. Nutritionally doing nothing for them but providing fiber.

Afterward, they tracked down the locations of more of the fruit smelling fungus and with great care harvested and wrapped some bundles of it in silk. Someone else in the hive might know more about it given that it was growing on a tree, and even if they didn’t the hork-bajir would probably figure out a good method for cultivating it. With their hindquarters weighed down with everything they collected, fungus fruit and bush fruits and twigs and all, Sssirin marched their way back to camp.

Turns out that the hork-bajir did know how to farm tree fungus. In fact, the fungus that Sssirin found was very similar to the ‘Cook it or die’ edible tree symbiote that they used in their traditional ‘Cold-Hot-Thick’ stew, which Sssirin knew were not direct translations of the hork-bajir language. The mixed low-frequency throat sounds were not something that the taxxon could hope to replicate with their own mouthparts and spiracles. Sssirin’s teachers added the art of cultivating fungi to their lesson plans.

Days later of consuming the fungus fruit regularly (small pieces remember, only small pieces) Sssirin noted a few immediate improvements to their general constitution like increased hemolymph flow and a drastic reduction in appetite. And after their molt, they felt like the healthiest taxxon outside of Hiveholm. They scuttled confidently up trees without the fear that falling was an absolute death sentence and proposed their plan to recruit more taxxons at the next big meeting.

////

Hearts pounding, heavy breathing, a gentle breeze flowing downhill. Sssirin knew all these things only increased the amount of their personal scent in the air. Still, Sssirin waited until they could see the starlight glinting off the teeth of the taxxon-Controllers before running.

...4-5-6-GO!! Sssirin lept sideways onto the trees lining the left side of the path. Their toes had hardly touched the bark before they were full out sprinting like their life depended on it. And it did. Not just because this was a raid and as a rebel the yeerks would very likely want them and their comrades dead. But also because they knew that they smelled absolutely, mouth-wateringly delicious from the tasty nutritious fungus fruit cakes webbed to their rump. And the fact that yeerks worked starvation shifts combined with malnutrition hunger of their taxxon hosts made a gestalt of very unpleasant death via being eaten alive. Sure taxxons cannibalize but under normal circumstances most have the manners to kill their prey before they start eating them.

The pursuers are adults, at least three of them. Sssirin is not. They have longer legs. Sssirin was in better health. Their tongues lashed at Sssirin’s back, snatching off a cake or two, and also tried to grab their feet to trip them up. Ha! Sssirin took advantage of the verticality of the trees to aid in dodging in such a manner that would make their hork-bajir teachers proud. They could not shake the taxxon-Controllers but they could not catch them.

But the point wasn’t to lose the pursuers.

After a few miles of chase the first pursuer fell into a pitfall trap. With the innate reflexes of their stolen bodies, the other yeerks were able to avoid falling into the same trap but that did not stop the second one from falling into the second pit. The slowest taxxon-Controller had caught on to the game and avoided the third one. Sssirin descended from the trees confidant that they were faster than the yeerk and that the yeerk was now wary of the young taxxon leading them into a trap.

But that was ok. The tribe only made the three traps. Resource limitations and all. There was always the possibility that Sssirin’s tasty decoy would have attracted more chasers than that.

RUN. RUN. RUN. RU--scent marker! Sssirin took a hard left, momentum skidding their body diagonally for a bit as they turned. They closed their spiracles and dove into the marked bolt hole. Muscles burning and adult taxxon teeth nipping at their spinnerets, Sssirin’s throat and belly pulsed desperate for a breath that they dared not take until they burst out of the tunnel and into the air from their speed and landing softly into a safety net of vines. Popping open their spiracles they pumped vigorously to reoxygenate their tissues. Sssirin descended to the ground drunkenly, uncoordinated from the traces of chloroform vapor stuck to their shell.

The last taxxon-Controller was much worse off, not even making it all the way out of the tunnel. Knocked unconscious by the noxious chemical that would take days to actually kill if it/they were left there to rot. After a few moments to let their head clear, Ssirin let out a series of booming hoots as loud as they could manage to call out to their hork-bajir allies.

The hardest thing to do was get the chloroformed taxxon-Controller into the empty pit trap. It/their shell was very thin, their flesh bloated and delicate, and hork-bajir have many sharp pointy bits. Sssirin ended up having to make silk mittens and knee covers for Jara Hamee and Aad Wanlo so that they could safely hop the taxxon-Controller back to the pit. Watching a pair of hork-bajir in mittens counting out loud to hop in unison is probably one of the most surreal images that Sssirin would ever see. Not the least part being the ginger baby hops that the two have to do to avoid rupturing the adult taxxon’s body from sheer velocity.

The pit traps were effectively, simple rounded wedges of glass, ‘car’ windows welded together and smoothed and then greased with liquid plant fats. Taxxon toes could not grip to the slick surface. The shape of it preventing their prisoners from getting leverage with enough legs to force their way out. After a day of rest, all of the prisoners were taken to the rocky narrow valley: three taxxon-Controllers, two hork-bajir-Controllers, and five human-Controllers. Sssirin dug holes to replant the pits and was charged with caring for the taxxon-Controllers after the yeerks refused to release their hosts and receive mercy. Grath Sha helped them hunt and keep the taxxon and human prisoners properly fed.

After a week only two of the freed humans decided to stay and join the hork-bajir’s hive, the others preferring to be amongst their own kind. The new hork-bajir didn’t give it a second thought and started integrating themselves into the hierarchy as soon as Kit Naab cut open their internal skeletons and pulled the yeerks off of their brains. The freed taxxons put it to a vote as was the taxxon way.

“Are you all determined that you all will not stay?” Sssirin asked with an inquiring curl of their third left tentacle. “This hive has abundant resources and good leadership.”

The taxxon with the call-name, Ssserrr, clapped their uppermost pair of pinchers together dismissively. It swallowed the hunk of bear flesh and internal skeleton it had bitten off of the feast pile before saying, “Does not matter. Many rebellions are better than one.”

Sssaloo, said entirely in clawsign as they attempted to swallow an entire elk haunch and leg in one piece, “No offense intended, small one, to you or the aliens. But laying too many eggs in one chamber has historically been a bad idea.”

“This one does predict a close friendship between our hive and your’s,” Hhhisis finished as they used their claws to rub mashed berries into the feathers of some small birds to change their flavor. Hhhisis offered a bird carcass to the younger taxxon.

Sssirin inverted their eyes into a smile and accepted the offering, “To the freedom of all peoples, then.”

“To freedom!” The others cheered. The hork-bajir having their own celebratory feast joined in with, “Free or Dead!”

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[malkumtend]

I Like Your Laugh. (A CrowSquirrel AU Fanfic) - Chapter 6.

The last three days, for Squirrelpaw, had been… mixed to say the least.

On the one hand, they hadn’t encountered anything dangerous since the incident in the twoleg gardens. Most of the time they were just passing by farmland, crossing past sheep which she had tediously begun to count. Seventy-eight so far. Nothing bad had occurred, it had past like a morning breeze. The cats had even begun to get the hang of getting through the murkiest ditches without a problem.

Plus, she could safely say now that she considered two of the cats’ good friends. She had always gotten on well with Feathertail, the cat was just so friendly that it was impossible to not to, she was so pleasant all the time! But Crowpaw, that was something else. They rarely fought anymore, not really anyway. He was still moody occasionally, and still seemed hesitant to give any friendliness to the other three cats, but that was something Squirrelpaw suspected he would come over eventually.

For Starclan’s sake, he had admitted his past with his father and how much it upset him with her, the cat he would have gladly torn limb from limb in the beginning,  there must be a time when he showed how nice he could be to the others.

Even the other cats were fine. Tawnypelt was friendly enough, though Squirrelpaw would admit the two rarely spoke that much, but when they did it was always good natured so there was no problem between the two.

Stormfur was definitely a cat she spoke to more, and while he certainly always spoke kindly, there was always something off whenever he talked to her. Like he was uncomfortable whenever he saw her, his breathing would quicken, and his fur would prickle as if disturbed. It always caught Squirrelpaw off guard and leave her wondering what exactly she had done to make the cat fly off like a startled sparrow.

She’d asked Feathertail about it once. The warrior had just grinned and told her it was nothing to worry about. Apparently, Stormfur did like her though, so Squirrelpaw just learnt to accept it as the quirks of a weird cat.

But then there was Brambleclaw. And despite being Squirrelpaw’s clanmate, the she-cat could safely say things had been awful since she had refused to sleep by him that night. It had seemed to have really insulted Brambleclaw to some degree, he now made a point to ignore Squirrelpaw whenever he could, and whenever they did speak his voice was clear with poison and distrust.

It hadn’t affected Squirrelpaw at first, but soon it began to wear on her a little. She wanted the two of them to be friends like they were before the journey, but it looked like Brambleclaw didn’t want that unless she took herself away from the friends she had made, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that. So Bramblelclaw continued to treat her like an unhappy acquaintance.

And from the way he was glaring at her while she squirmed under the fence, it wasn’t looking much better.

Oh yeah, Squirrelpaw was stuck under a fence.

They’d had to go around the edge of a field where a twoleg monster roamed, chugging yellow fragments into the air with a rumbling grow. It had been easy enough, but when they’d come to a fence made of a cold, silver material that the group had been able to crawl under.

At least until the fence had decided to unwind when Squirrelpaw was halfway through, its pointed ends clawing into her skin painfully if she even dared to move a little.

“Get me out!” She squeaked. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as the other five cats stared at her. Feathertail and Crowpaw stood at one side, examining the wires closely. Stormfur and Tawnypelt were at the other side, looking over a wooden post that was embedded with the wires. Brambleclaw had just come back up, obviously wanting to get on as soon as he could, and now stared down at Squirrelpaw with a frustrated air around him.

The ginger apprentice glared back up at him, “Don’t just sit there and gawk, mouse-brain!” The wires digged into her fur again and she let out another whimper.

Brambleclaw growled, “Keep still.” He looked over the wires with Feathertail and Crowpaw, letting out a tired hiss. “It’s tight.”

“Oh really?” Crowpaw meowed with a frown, “Thanks for letting us know. I’m sure we couldn’t realise that.” Squrrelpaw saw Brambleclaw’s jaw tighten.

“Crowpaw!” Feathertail snapped before the two inevitably began arguing again, “This is not the time for that!” She continued to look over the wires hopelessly.

The Windclan apprentice remained scowling for a moment, then he looked back down at Squirrelpaw and softened. “You’re right.” He sighed, “Sorry.” He looked closer at the wires digging into Squirrelpaw’s fur. The Thunderclan apprentice felt another warm flush as Crowpaw came right next to her, he smelt like orchids and fresh rain. A strange calming sensation passed through her as she felt his fur brush against hers, before he drew back with a worried sigh.

“We won’t be able to bite through it.” He pondered, “We could bite through your fur and that could free you.”

The calm feeling faded as Squirrelpaw recoiled like she had been struck. “Don’t you dare!” Squirrelpaw snarled, “Try to bite my fur and I’ll blind you!” She would sooner spend the night under the fence than go the whole journey with furless patches all over her.

However, whatever anger Squirrelpaw had felt momentarily left her when she saw Crowpaw wince. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. We’ll find another way.” The ginger apprentice felt a sting of guilt, she was so used to assuming that Crowpaw was still trying to upset her she hadn’t considered he was truly trying to help. She made a promise to apologise to him later.

“Are you sure we can’t bite through it?” Stormfur questioned, his ears up in worry.

Crowpaw frowned, “You want to try it? Go ahead, it’s a waste of time though.” Stormfur still tried chewing on the wires however and came back with a ruffled look of defeat. “Told you.”

“What if we dig up the post?” Brambleclaw offered, “It’s deep in but if we all work together it-” The cats all paused as they heard a sharp sound in the distance. Barking. Followed by the rustling hooves of sheep. Coming towards them.

Squirrelpaw’s stomach curled and she began to visibly struggle again, her heart racing with terror. “Get me out of here! Quickly!” The wires raked across her like foxes’ teeth, but she couldn’t stop moving, she was too terrified.

Brambleclaw growled again, but his eyes were also wide with panic. “Stop moving and we can think of something!” He ordered, pacing back and forth.

“What do we do?” Stormfur exclaimed, ears twitching as the barking of the dog began to slowly grow louder.

Squirrelpaw continued to struggle, her paws desperately clawing the dirt in any vague hopes of escape, her breaths subsided into constant horrified gasps. “Hurry!” She yowled.

“Shush!” Brambleclaw roared at the cat, “If you keep struggling, you’ll just make it harder for us to help!” His gaze roared like a forest fire. Squirrelpaw couldn’t help but let a few tears prick the corners of her eyes, the terror and helplessness of her situation as well as Brambleclaw’s ferocity and blaming were becoming too much for the poor cat.

Once again, it was her who was causing trouble. Her who couldn’t help but get stuck, halt the journey, and now put them all at risk of a dog. She cursed the fence. She cursed herself.

Then a black paw sprang in front of her, an equally furious face sizing up the Thunderclan warrior. Everyone turned to look when Crowpaw hissed at Brambleclaw, his ears folded back, his pelt bristling with savage outrage. Squirrelpaw could swear that even when Crowpaw had been arguing with her, every minute in the beginning, she had never seen Crowpaw look so angry.

“Leave her alone!” He snarled, inches from Brambleclaw’s face. He stretched his entire body to face the warrior properly, practically balancing himself on his tail. “She’s scared enough as it is! She doesn’t need your fox-brained chatter!”

Squirrelpaw felt like interjecting at the comment that she was scared, but she was too taken aback by Crowpaw’s actions. Once again, he was defending her.

Brambleclaw looked surprised, then furious. He tensed so much that the muscles in his neck began to throb as he let out a low growl. He pushed his nose against the apprentice in a challenge. “It’s not my fault she’s stuck, is it?! I’m just trying to get her out of there as quickly as possible! And we can’t do that if she’s writhing around like a fish out of water!”

“If you care so much,” Crowpaw snarled, pushing back, his eyes as wild as a storm, “Stop insulting her and get to actually helping your clanmate, mouse-brain!”

“That’s what I want to do! But I can’t because some half-grown apprentice is growling at me!”

Squirrelpaw’s panic subsided to anger as she heard that obscenely unfair comment. Not to mention that she was smaller than Crowpaw, so that was an indirect insult to her as well as far as she was concerned.

“Yeah, because screaming at already distressed cats really makes for good help.” Crowpaw yowled bitterly, his claws unsheathed.

Brambleclaw didn’t look ready for any kind of fight, right now, as his ears pricked at the barking of the dog, but he still wasn’t going to let up. “By the way I see it, you’re the one wanting to start a fight. As usual.” He finished, leering.

Now Squirrelpaw was feeling genuinely furious at how unfair Brambleclaw’s comments were.  The cat just seemed determined to try and make her feel small, and now he was taking it out on cats who tried to defend her. Crowpaw hadn’t tried to start anything for days, any cat in the group would stand by that, this was the first time he had stepped up to anyone since the start. And the only reason he was doing it was…for her.

Any thoughts going through her mind misted away when Feathertail and Tawnypelt crouched beside her. “Would you two stop that?” Tawnypelt snapped, glaring at the two. “Toms.” She grumbled.

“Tell me about it?” Feathertail snickered. Squirrelpaw noticed a few dock leaves at her paws, Feathertail took one into her mouth and began chewing it before spitting its green fluid onto her paws. “But please Squirrelpaw, try not to move okay?” The she-cat said gently.

Despite the quivering of her heart, Squirrelpaw obeyed, mustering deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. Feathertail quickly rubbed the chewed-up leaves around the fence strands that clipped onto Squirrelpaw’s fur, the wetness made Squirrelpaw shiver a little, but she kept calm. Better this than the dog.

She waited until Feathertail had smoothly rubbed it into her fur. “Okay,” Tawnypelt mused, “Now try to pull yourself out.”

Squirrelpaw tried frantically, her claws digging and scrambling to get away from the danger, but the wire was tight and painful, scratching her the more she tried. The apprentice whimpered, her eyes brimming as she looked to the mollies pleadingly. “I can’t! It’s too tight!”

“Breathe in. It’s working.” Tawnypelt exclaimed, “Just a little more.”

Squirrelpaw shook her head, her mind had gone blank and no matter how hard she tried, her muscles wouldn’t go against her nerves. A nameless pressure clenched in her throat, constricting her breath and movement, every muscle stiff with fright; her eyes closed as the impending horror grew closer and closer, closing out the directions of her friends. “I-I can’t do it!”

“Yes, you can.” Even through the hungry darkness, his voice was unmissable. As small and bright as a star. A gentle breeze carrying her across the hills. Squirrelpaw felt her eyes open, and his face was there. His lips were tightly held together, but the only thing the she-cat could focus on was the assurance in his gaze. “Try again, just another push.” He said, comfortingly sure of himself. Everything just seemed natural when he said it.

Always so confident.

Now so warm.

“Hurry!” Brambleclaw yowled, his voice clear with tension.

Squirrelpaw almost didn’t hear him. Crowpaw braced himself to flee, but the paw he let fall on her shoulder made it clear that he wouldn’t leave her until she was free. Feathertail did the same on her other shoulder. She wasn’t alone. The fear loosened its talons from Squirrelpaw’s pelt, a sudden urge, a belief, rising all over the ginger cat. Squirrelpaw relaxed, shifting all of her strength into her paws. Her hind legs kicked and her front paws pulled with a burst of desire, she ignored the sting of the wire against her back and writhed with the passion to live.

Even as she felt her fur pull from her skin, she continued to push, and within a sudden moment, she saw herself beside her friends. Running. Free. The barking lingered away with every leap, fading away as if it had never existed.

The cats stopped once they had reached the next field, panting and laughing between themselves. Squirrelpaw looked over her hide and sighed with relief. The fence hadn’t taken a large amount of her fur at least. Thank Starclan she was so fluffy! She let out a puff towards the sky. “That was close.”

“Too close.” Stormfur agreed, smoothing down his bristled fur. “Are you okay?”

Squirrelpaw licked around the rustled patch on her back, “I’ll be fine, it’s just a few lost hairs. They’ll grow back.” She began to clean away the dock smudged around her fur. “Yuck!” She cringed at the bitter taste.

“Here let me help you.” Feathertail offered, she smoothed her tongue on the areas that Squirrelpaw couldn’t reach.

The Thunderclan cat smiled thankfully, “Thanks.” She looked appreciatively towards Tawnypelt, blinking slowly. “Thank you both, so much! That was an amazing plan!” The Shadowclan warrior said nothing but she returned the apprentice’s smile, nodding to the cat.

“You’re welcome.”

Feathertail spat away a wad of dock, “There’s no need to thank us, Squirrelpaw. We know you’d have done the same for us.” Tawnypelt nodded gain at the Riverclan warrior’s words and Squirrelpaw felt another touched warmth fill her chest. They really trusted her that much. Even when she had been shaking that much under the fence, scared out of her wits, they still believed she would remain brave for them if they were in that position.

And of course, she would. They were her friends after all. But it didn’t stop Squirrelpaw from embracing the fact that these warriors that she respected so much thought so well of an apprentice – not to mention, an apprentice from another clan.

But in a pattern that was becoming frustratingly regular, any pride she had was shut down when she heard his contemptuous voice.

“As if she could have even thought of it.”

Every cat froze at that. All looked towards the warrior, looking away dismissively while licking his paw. Even Stormfur and Tawnypelt, cats that normally got on well with the warrior, looked shocked at the deliberate cruelty in his words.

“What do you mean by that?” Stormfur demanded, the normally calm warrior tensing with an angry glare.

Brambleclaw shrugged, snorting. “What? She didn’t help herself, after all, shaking like a leaf.” He darted a small glare in his clanmate’s direction.

Squirrelpaw didn’t flinch. Her eyes were wide, but there was no kind of fear anymore. Instead a dark pulse was vibrating through her little body, making her pupils shrink when she saw the warrior look away from her with a sniff. Her ears flattened against her skull and her tail thumped wildly.

Tawnypelt glowered at her brother, “And you helped? Shouting and clawing?!”

The brown warrior may have winced, but it was masked behind a snarl. “Again, I tried to! But she wasn’t listening to me!”

“Because she was frightened you fox-heart!” Everyone couldn’t help but flinch when it was Feathertail’s angry hiss. Stormfur visibly jolted back in open terror. The gentle she-cat’s fur was on edge and her muzzle was creased in fury. “Why are you being so unfair? It was a dog! Any one of us would be terrified, and we all were!”

Brambleclaw paused, stunned at the tone of the Riverclan cat. His tail swung wearily for a moment, then he returned with a brisk cough and a frown. “It’s not a question of how brave she is.”

“Then what is it?”

A low growl rumbled in Brambleclaw, “We would have gotten away sooner if she had just listened and kept calm! That didn’t need to be as close as it was!”

“Does it matter? She got out didn’t she!” Stormfur yowled.

Brambleclaw scoffed, “Yeah, after making it as difficult as she could.”

Squirrelpaw bristled with disgust. So, once again he was blaming her. Once more, she was the one that Brambleclaw chose to blame for another one of the group’s problems.

She’d never realised how stupid he sounded before now.

He said he was trying to help her.

How?

By insulting her whenever he had the chance?

By trying to make out she was the problem that cursed the group?

By doing whatever he could to make her feel small and keep her under his paws like a piece of prey?

He said he was her clanmate. Squirrelpaw was less proud of that every time he opened his mouth, and it was all down to him!

Squirrelpaw cursed all the times she had gotten upset over the tom, all the times she had actually believed his words! What a waste of time! Throughout the journey, there had only been one thing that was wrong with her. And it certainly wasn’t her fault!

Squirrelpaw burned with anger, her claws twisted into the dirt and her tail rose tensely. That was it! No more losing sleep over what this bee-brain thought of her! If he thought that she would just take his stupidity any longer he was as crazy as a hare!

He wanted to cause fights; she was going to finish them!

“Oh, pardon me!” Squirrelpaw exclaimed with a mocking respect. “Where are my manners? I forgot just how much you tried to help, Brambleclaw. Your idea of telling me to be quiet and keep still really helped, that would have been certain to get me away from the dog.”

Brambleclaw’s jaw dropped at the sudden shift in the cat’s tone. His stare became fiery. “I was trying to keep you calm.”

“Oh yes, yelling at the top of your lungs really has that effect.”

Brambleclaw sneered, “Okay, what did you do? Writhe and whimper like a kittypet.”

“To reiterate,” Squirrelpaw snapped, cocking her head to the side, “I was trapped under a fence! If you think you’d be any different, why don’t you go show that dog how strong you are? You can move after all!”

Brambleclaw winced at the barking that echoed from the previous field. He frowned at Tawnypelt when he heard her snicker. Squirrelpaw smirked, he was embarrassed, and he knew everyone could tell he was.

“Stop talking such fox-dung!” Brambleclaw snarled, “You’re the one who got stuck, not me, that’s your own fault.” That was a cheap insult, and Squirrelpaw didn’t care a mouse-tail about it. Yeah, she’d gotten stuck, but she wasn’t the one who’d made the situation so much worse for herself.

“And you’re the cat who’s saying it’s foolish to be scared of a dog. That’s your fault.”

When she said that, Brambleclaw seemed to realise how badly he’d cornered himself. His tail lashed from side to side, his mouth twisted back in a grimace. “That wasn’t what I… I meant that…” He tried to find a solution but the coldness in his gaze made it clear that he had dug a hole that was threatening to swallow him up, and he had no way out of it.

“You meant what?” Squirrelpaw pressed.

“I-” Brambleclaw paused, then he looked to the side again with a heavy groan. “Oh, whatever! I don’t need to explain myself to you! You’re an apprentice!” He snapped, giving her a poisonous glance before he turned from her again.

Squirrelpaw practically smelt that coming. It was his only defence, no matter how ridiculous it was. She saw the cats around her draw back in either astonishment or disgust. They were on her side. That was all she needed to know.

“Yes, I am. And I’ve still spoken more sense than you’ve ever done!”

Brambleclaw recoiled, his eyes blazing with an unspeakable, offended ire. His jaws unclenched letting out a vicious hiss that slithered from the back of his throat, spit fizzing furiously as he did so. “Listen here you little- I am a Warrior and-”

“And I’ll treat you like one when you start acting like one!” Squirrelpaw delivered, unscathed, unbreakable. Her lips pouted and she let out a disgusted groan. “Wipe your mouth, would you? You’re drooling worse than that dog.”

A mrrow of laughter filled the air. High, throaty and passionate. Every cat paused, recognised the voice, paused again, took a moment to process the idea, the dared to look as Crowpaw chortled, his head rocked back as he erupted towards the sky. Now, every cat was astonished.

Crowpaw…knew how to laugh?!

It was a terrifying, miraculous thought!

But there he was, black fur and all, howling with laughter, doubled over in hysterics, as if he had seen the most hilarious thing in the forest.

Squirrelpaw looked on, dumbfounded. There were a lot of things she never expected Crowpaw to do.

Praising her had been a shock.

Smiling had been a miracle.

Laughing..?

Squirrelpaw was ready to see dogs start raining from the sky.

It sounded so strange, so happy. So real. The tom seemed to calm down, a cool smile gracing his lips as he wiped his eyes with the tip of his tail.

Brambleclaw was now visibly shaking, his whiskers twitching as his eyes tried to burn holes into Crowpaw’s fur. “What are you laughing at?”

Crowpaw let out a blissful sigh, looking mildly at the Warrior. “Not what. Who. And you’re still drooling, by the way.”

Brambleclaw’s eyes widened and he wiped a paw across his mouth, turning away from the pair shamefully. The rest of the group couldn’t help but let out a hushed laughter, after hearing Crowpaw laugh, none were quite ready to accept the sound was actually real.

The brown Warrior turned back after cleaning his face and looked ready to disappear. “C-Come on! We’ve wasted enough time already!” Squirrelpaw groaned, he was trying to be leader again.

She felt a gentle press against her pelt, she looked to see Feathertail shaking her head with a smile. “Don’t worry about him, you’ve embarrassed him enough.” She chuckled.

Squirrelpaw snickered, her tail rising. “If he wants to be humiliated again, he’s welcome to speak.” She was never going to let him have the final word again. She’d shown him that. If he was smart, he’d keep his distance for a while.

“If he does that, he’s more stupid than any of us thought!” Crowpaw walked beside Feathertail, his head cocked up with delight that the Warrior had been given a taste of his own herbs. His eyes found Squirrelpaw and he nodded at her, almost proudly. “Good job giving that mange-pelt what he deserves.”

Squirrelpaw grinned back at the tom, “Thanks.” She suddenly remembered, “Oh, and thanks you two, for sticking by me under the fence.” Her voice softened with respect.

“Oh, Squirrelpaw. I already said there was no need to thank me!” Feathertail declared, her tail smoothing over Squirrelpaw’s pelt. “You’re our friend, we would never leave you.”

“We wouldn’t leave you regardless.” Crowpaw said, his tone snappy but sincere, “We’re in this together. Even if it was that bee-brained warrior, we wouldn’t leave him behind.” Crowpaw’s tail lashed towards the still fuming Brambleclaw.

“Exactly, we’re here until we make it there.” Feathertail looked up, bringing Squirrelpaw and Crowpaw’s gazes with her. The Sun-Down place blinked over the horizon, glistening and beckoning the group on their journey. The journey they shared. Until the very end.

Squirrelpaw was glad she was among friends.

“Well, we’ll get there soon enough.” Crowpaw stated, as confident as ever.

Feathertail smirked as she looked over to Crowpaw, “Honestly after hearing you laugh, I will never doubt anything ever again.”

Crowpaw eyes went wide, then he looked away in mild embarrassment. “I’m a cat, you know, I can do whatever you two can.”

The two sniggered at his attempts to hide away his action, but Squirrelpaw would never forget it. She was sure of that much. She mused for a second. A cordial charge made her smile at the tom.

“I like your laugh.”

Crowpaw didn’t say anything, he blinked, looking ahead as if he hadn’t heard her. His gaze faltered, travelling from side to side before resting on the ginger cat, trying his hardest not to be ruffled. “Well, I hope you’ve got a good memory, Squirrelbrain. I won’t be doing it again any time soon.”

Squirrelpaw craned her head towards him playfully, “Is that a challenge?”

Crowpaw’s eyes widened incredulously, then he sighed with a small laugh. “You’re crazier than a fox in a fit.”

Feathertail nudged Squirrelpaw, beaming. “I’d take that as a yes.” She whispered playfully.

Squirrelpaw’s eyes narrowed and she leaned towards Crowpaw, “Even if it isn’t, I’ll get it out of him, wait and see.” The black tom rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were up and that edged Squirrelpaw on.

Because in a place she couldn’t display to anyone, she did cherish the sound of Crowpaw’s laugh. Another impossible act she had gotten him to achieve.

She would get him to laugh again.

Her heart couldn’t wait to hear it again.

[mozlemallura]

Characteristics to make your OC more original without the classic "red hair, pale skin, different coloured eyes"

Webbed fingers

One toe/finger missing or adding one

Scars! Give them memories

Body mods - even though it sounds pretentious, it's seldomly used bc of that reason. Give them piercings, gauges, tattoos, implants etc etc

Make them LGBT+. Not to make them "special" but to make them normal. Not everyone is cishet on this planet, make your story a realistic mirror of reality.

A small illness that shows at inconvenient times. Anaemia, a slightly crooked spine, you name it.

Naturally dark undereyes

Crooked/yellow teeth - it's natural for some people no matter how much they brush em. Also healthcare isn't affordable everywhere

Flat feet

Instead of a resting bitch face - a resting sad face. Or thinking face. "Wow, what are you thinking about?" "Uh.. that my lucky charms this morning may have already expired last week."

Knowledge about really weird things! Architecture in the 20th century, the army, submarines, contemporary art

Little habits: chasing pigeons, greeting the news reporter back when he says "good evening" (these are more for younger characters), having to scratch the other side of their face if theyve scratched one side already

Having pets: bunnies, geckos, spiders, snakes, mice, rats, birds, chinchillas, fish, frogs, turtles

Give them a name with a special meaning, maybe even relevant for the story. But for the love of god leave the spelling as it is. Dont make maikayleighah out of mikayla.

Also, names like, skye, skylynn, raine etc do give off a certain :/ vibe

Make them religious!

Make them break gender rules

Note that you can still do whatever you want to and even if your OC is a ginger named ginger then thats totally fine - its your story. These are just preferences of mine

I hope this helped! Feel free to add on

[mundane-pleasures-are-best]

Just Another Day

Happy 8/1, Master!Isa AU world. Concept by @saixbosom on Twitter, continued from IsaXig fic by @thoughquaking . NSFW. Murderclown Norted!Axel warning.

Ships:AkuXem, heavily implied XigXem and Akusai.

Summary: Axel finds that if he can't keep his old friend out of his head after their recent encounter, then filling the time with nothing is the next best thing. Even if nothing is a pit of ego and zealous perfection.

The flame nobody knocked once before swinging open the door to Xemnas's office, not feigning the fear the others had for him when he entered and making his way to the large desk at the center of the room. The heart-shaped moon hung over, its rays spilling through the window and illuminating Xemnas poised at his desk. He was writing a list of possible missions for Xigbar to consider upon, even if the Freeshooter simply agreed without much fuss. Axel slapped his report down on the desk, skipping Xigbar in the chain of command due to a lack of respect for the aging nobody. The Superior's eyes didn't leave the paper he was working on until he was done, then he lifted the charred report and glanced at it, never once looking at Axel.

"Disappointing."

Newly-turned yellow eyes narrowed, a hiss threatening to escape his mouth and flames tickling at his fingers. He calmed himself considering the nobody might mean the results themselves, not his own abilities-

"Are you trying?"

Axel met the darker orange eyes of Xemnas and glared, the smell of sulfur briefly wafted off of him, a smell most members feared due to his impulsive nature and clicking fingers. He spit out, "No, I was having a party."

Xemnas hummed, crushing the report in one hand and tossing it into the trash. "Number VIII I am starting to believe you are incapable of producing results, has your mind been distracted lately? Do you not know of our true goal?"

The redhead bit his lip, so Xemnas was aware of Isa's pursuit of him and his missions sliding down on the scale of his priorities. If Isa was on the world he was sent to, he finished the mission quickly, even sloppily, and then left. It wasn't effective for the Organization but it kept him from wasting time talking to something used and broken, “I’m aware, you want a big fluffy glowing heart in the sky yeah?” He waved his hand in a goofy gesture, arms drawn out towards the window in a mockery of Xemnas on the roof. 

“Cute.” The deep voice was curt, not feeding into the anger Axel was trying to provoke. He was like an overgrown child, not able to play with his favorite toy and lashing out at everyone around him instead, pathetic, emotions only bred weakness, and Axel was swimming in them. 

Axel’s eyes narrowed, his nose crinkling, “Is that a compliment?”

Xemnas went back to the paperwork on his desk, ignoring Axel’s presence completely as he hummed to himself, trying to resist a smirk as he heard the snap, and the paper started to curl and char under the sudden flames, turning into ash within seconds, “You’re still here?”

“You’re right,” Axel swiped his hand and knocked objects off of his desk.

“Oh, I often am.”

“I was distracted, I am cute, and I am bored.” He reached a hand across the desk, his lanky arm gripping a silver bang and yanking the other’s head forward and up to meet his burning eyes, “and I can see you are bored too.” 

The tan nobody did not shift, not faltering in his expression of blank interest, nothing made a person who craved attention like Axel more angry than ignoring them completely. It was a little fact he had learned from Xigbar’s daily observations. It was also the reason why Axel hated Vexen with every fiber of his being. The scientist simply thought the flame nobody was below him in rank and intelligence, to be fair, Vexen wasn’t wrong to Xemnas’s knowledge. Axel was easily provoked, manipulated, encouraged, and led. He was a fox in the hen-house, overwhelmed with choices and his mind only leading him to utter destruction.

He hadn’t named him Flurry of the Dancing Flames for no reason after all, Axel was a flurry of wanton destruction that would leave everything in his path ash, even his friends. 

“Am I now? How do I seem bored, Number VIII?” Xemnas slowly rose out of his chair, making Axel have to strain against the other’s height and bulk to maintain his grip on the dangling silver bangs. Axel let go. 

With a quick lunge the assassin was over the desk and tackling Xemnas to the chair, he didn’t have enough weight to stun the larger male, but he did have enough surprise on his side to make Xemnas land on his ass on the chair and blink, “My, what a grave you are digging.” He chuckled despite himself, watching Axel’s eyebrows knit in confusion, Xemnas rarely laughed, and this one sounded chilling. 

“You know what? I think I’m going to dig it a little deeper.” Axel placed his hand on the leather chair, burning away a strip of leather then cooling it, when Xemnas opened his mouth to ask what he was doing now he shoved it in there and tied it behind his head. He made short work of burning the chair to bind his arms as he felt Xemnas kicking his legs to avoid the metal curling around the rest of his appendages. The ginger grinned like a cat, pleased at his work as he leveled his eyes with Xemnas, waiting for the nobody to make a move to counter him. But he didn’t, Xemnas just stared back at him, waiting. Then he raised both brows at Axel with a clear look of ‘And that’s all you got?’ 

Challenged by the look the redhead tugged at the other bang, “I have to ask, but Superior are you a virgin? I mean, I think you might not want me to pop that cherry first.” He waited in anticipation for the fear, but the other appeared even more bored. What the actual fuck was wrong with this man?

The Superior maintained a blank look, calming his body as he tried to feign disinterest, it took a person very familiar with him to see past the charade. He cocked his head in a mocking gesture at the other, watching flames flick from his loose hand as he began to melt away the zipper of his Organization coat, what a waste. Xemnas wondered how long it would take to find another replacement, they didn’t grow on trees. 

A sharp tug on the fabric and the chains fell loose, again Xemnas was aggravated as he watched the metal beads scatter. This better be worth it, or he would destroy the other himself, even if he made a good vessel. 

Axel took a moment to admire the toned abs and chiseled chest as he burned away sections of fabric and ripped the rest, scorching the other’s skin in places and making Xemnas bite on the leather between his teeth, “Well well, so you do go outside your office and do physical work, and here I thought you sit on your ass all day. Surprise Surpriiise.” He purred the last word, repeating it in a taunting way that made Xemnas raise a brow. Honestly what did these idiots think he did all day? Yes he was in the castle, or a split shadow of him was to keep them on their toes, he had other duties to a higher power than himself. 

The flame nobody ran a warm hand up the other man’s chest, watching the rise and fall quicken as Xemnas panted, his fingers poised over the dusky nipple; with a hard and very warm poke he began to twist one, rolling a thumb over it until it hardened, then leaned over him completely to nip at the other. A muffled noise gave him what he wanted, unbeknownst to him it was also exactly what Xemnas wanted. In a very simple game of reverse psychology he found that acting displeased with any action Axel did would make him do it more, giving Xemnas the pleasure he wanted. He wondered if Axel was always a terrible lover, or if he was simply too hard to read for normal people. Something to ponder later....

Axel bit down and amber eyes rolled in pleasure, a happy noise escaping him as he took a foot, his toes curling, and used it to kick at him, trying to remove the thin male from his immediate proximity. The ginger put an end to that immediately by gripping him firmly between the legs, his hand tightening in a display of power and control. It took all of Xemnas’s willpower not to moan in delight. It was so pleasant when someone knew he liked rough play and he didn’t need to state it, well, Axel was using it a threat, but it was the same difference.  

The younger male was smirking more, as he loosened and dropped the other’s pants, sliding down the boxers and gripping his length firmly in one hand. Axel chuckled, “So you’re superior in one aspect, it doesn’t really matter.” He slid his hand down to the shaft and back up, toying with the foreskin as he began to pump the organ as it rose due to stimulation. “I never thought you’d be uncut though, seems you can be surprising.” Xemnas closed his eyes, feeling the other’s hand mercilessly squeeze at his testicles to gain his attention back to him, “Ah ah ah, pay attention Number I, are you too distracted to perform your duties?” He smiled, mockingly repeating Xemnas’s own words back at him. His eyes were back on Axel as he watched him drop down his pants and boxers, not bothering with his shirt. Rude and disrespectful. 

Axel followed the disapproving gaze and chuckled, “You think you’re worth me getting completely naked for?” He lifted a leg to show the pants and boxers around his ankles and boots still on, “Please, you know we’re not going further with this. Why the act?” He reached for the gag and pulled it down, “Do you want me to kiss you too? Declare my nothing-love for your nothing-ass?” He looked up at Kingdom Hearts and grinned, “I do hope she enjoys the show.” 

Xemnas was less bothered by the display than Axel would know, he didn’t think love would be involved in a fuck, simply some level of logic. Eventually positions would change, and someone would move, and Axel would trip over his own damn clothes during the fucking. That would be humorous, and maybe that story would top some of Luxord’s drunken tales. 

The flame nobody started to melt the chair anew, letting the base sink to the floor as he melted the frame, moving Xemnas’ hands and legs apart in a conventional position of submission, one Xemnas disliked for the lack of class involved in such a move. The material quickly cooled and held him in place, as Xemnas sighed, “Are you going to do something or taunt me? Spare me your trivial threats and insults. I highly doubt you have the ability to maintain my stamina, given your pathetic shape and weight.” He smirked to himself, glad Axel couldn’t see it as he heard anger drive the rational side of the other’s brain out as the primal side took over, nails raked along his hips and sides, Xemnas bit down on his lip. There were bites on his back, the lips leaving a singe along his flesh, his panting now uncontrollable. He felt the other’s cock against his ass, warm but not as hot as his lips and fingertips, sweat starting to layer his skin as his body shuddered in anticipation. 

Axel’s voice was at his ear, purring now, “ H̱̣̭̗͑̇̂̾m̰̃m̟̫͠͠m͔͂,̬̋̃͢,̮̝͋͘,̠̇ .” The tone had changed, it cracked in the middle of a sentence or word and sounded jagged, unnatural. Xemnas was fond of it now, Axel rarely hit his breaking point. He bit the pointed tan ear, tugging as he started to grind his length between the other’s cheeks, moaning as he did, his nails in the other’s hips,  “͚͇̀͒Ÿ̩̣́̈ö̜̲̗̺̊̒͘u̬͈͊̕ ̮̑w̼͚͗̅oư̳̲̖͆̀͐͟l̥̹͍͒̍̿ď̛̹̜͎͊̍͜n͎̗̰͆͌͠’͎̠̰͊͛͞t̳̔ ̠̓h̦̓a̠̩̩̅̅̑p͕̞̼̝̏̏̄͘ṗ̤e̺̜͓͒͊͋n̥̓ t̢̧͓̮̠͗́̚͠͡o̳̯͌̂ ̧̧͖͈̖̏̈́̈́̃̚h̫̤̳͖̓̒̅̕ä̱̱́̑v̼̗̓̉è͎͓͂ ̛̦͕̋̂͟l̰̭͎̒͒͠û̢̮̟͈͔̆́̿̕b̩̜̑͛e ̤̓ŵ̺o͕̻̿͛u̧̅ld̗͓̀̓̈́͟͝ͅ ̠͙̔͘yo̞̮͖͈̍̅͛͘̕͢ṵ̧̑̀?̳͉̂͠”̜͍͖̗͂̔̄͐

The lanky male reached into the back of his own pants in a bunch against the floor and pulled out the liquid, “Guess we’ll just have to use m̸̙͔͎̞̝̤̀̾̍́͐͆̋̍i̴̧̧̗͉͙̯̣̫͔͗̃̃͛̈́͝ņ̷͈̱̰̗͚̫̝̟̽̅̍͆ḛ̴̖̫̯͍̿̈͛͠.” 

The Superior jumped a little at the cold liquid being applied with a warm finger, the sensation causing him to shiver as his hairs rose and a shiver ran up his spine, “How convenient. Almost as though you planned this.” 

The finger pushed inside and coated his insides, he tried not to squirm as he heard Axel chuckling in delight. 

There was a sudden uncomfortable sensation, as Axel pushed in without warning and Xemnas had to control his instinct to tense immediately, which would only result in pain for him and pleasure for the other. He relaxed his body, shifting what little he could with his hips and arching his back into the other nobody, hearing the pleased groan in response. When Axel began to pump faster he kept rocking his hips in opposite rhythm, feeling the annoyance building up from his subordinate as Axel grabbed his hair and pulled, using one arm to hold him down and his body weight to lean into him as he thrust harder and deeper, Xemnas trying to control himself from moaning with glee. Another yank on his hair and his eyes rolled, his fingers gripping the ground and jerking his hips back aggressively to receive the thrust. 

The redhead seemed to not expect that, pushing the older male’s face into the ground as he fucked him harder, steam rising from his back as burn marks appeared on Xemnas’s sides, another hard bite at his throat and he felt it, the intense burning of another sort as his climax blurred his vision and attention. Xemnas gave up the charade, placing his hands down flat and rocking back as hard as he could, challenging the other male as Axel decided to fully dick him down as flat as possible, ignoring his Superior’s throbbing erection and leaving it it unwanted in the stagnant air, his thrusts becoming maddening as he too felt the tightening in his gut and the impending end. One more hard thrust and Xemnas cried out, no names just a guttural moan, and Axel slammed against him, burying himself balls deep as he came, shivering in delight as he imagined another burned form below him, breaking the pale form and pulverizing his insides with fertile seed. 

Axel panted, Xemnas had made a mess on the ground and he was going soft, pulling out and looking at the sweaty form with a mild look of disgust mixed with pride. 

It was a fuck, nothing more. He stood, tripping over his tangled clothes and gripping the desk for balance, yanking his boxers and pants up, tugging his cloak on as he gave Xemnas a curt wave before disappearing into a portal. 

The Superior caught his breath when he heard the portal close, letting his knees sink as he used his thorns to bend and break the chair to free him. He reached for some of his tattered clothing and wiped himself off, looking at the burn wounds with a sigh. He began the tiring work of a Curaga spell and sat there waiting before he was restored. A mild limp, more than he expected but less than he had received from previous lovers. He stretched one leg then the next as he rose, yawning a bit as he summoned a dark corridor to his bedroom and warded off the office, having dusks clean up the mess. 

----

The dark corridor to his room closed and Xemnas moved under the covers of the bedspread, feeling the crisp sheets against his sweat-covered body and shuddering. He heard a snap, and two feet landing beside the bed with a predictable soft tap. The Superior flipped over the covers as he watched one boot then another get tugged off before the cloak was left on the ground next to the bed.

"Now look at you having fun, I thought we weren't allowed to play with the other vessels?"

The Freeshooter slipped under the covers in his boxers, stretching in the king-size bed without touching the other man, their familiarity unseen in the quiet room. Xemnas looked over, watching in an amused way as Xigbar unfastened his ponytail and shook his hair loose with his hand.

"That was never an explicit rule, now was it?" The taller male started to sink into the pillows and yawned. His nose crinkled when the sniper shoved two fingers under his nose and the distinct smell of arousal filled his nostrils. Xemnas looked the other male in the eye and sighed, "Wash your hands II, you know basic manners, don't you?"

Xigbar wiggled the fingers once more before laughing, rolling out of the bed and going to the bathroom to wash his hands. He returned with the dramatic flourish of the accompanied bathroom door whipping open and doing a bow, "Aren't you proud of me Boss?" He waved his hand and smirked, "Little Master was quite the vocal one, if you catch my-"

"So you managed to 'get' the Master to our side? I do not see him. And you wouldn't be here if the arrangement had been mutual, now would you?" The amber eyes twinkled in amusement, the implication that Xigbar had been pleasuring the blue-haired keyblade master and not the other way around. The Freeshooter sneered at him, looking at the other’s still healing form with a condescending look.

"And you?"

Xemnas blinked slowly, the way a cat does when it's pleased, "I got what I wanted, I never try to play with my food too much or it grows stale. If you continue this little game of yours with him, we might not have the future vessel that was promised. Do not be dependent on the whims of a lonely man desperately clinging to the fantasy of a friend and lover long past."

As long-winded as usual Xigbar snorted, "Thanks Mom." He placed his hands on scarred hips and looked at Xemnas for a moment. The Superior always seemed to radiate during the afterglow, maybe due to its rare occurrence and unbridled pleasure that joined it. He felt something, jealousy? No. Their relationship, if one could call it that, was wide open. It was the instinctual urge to claim and mark over the ginger's lingering presence on the other. This was twice now Axel had been the focus of attention. He was a little disappointed Xemnas hadn't shared, but he was greedy, and Xigbar had found that out firsthand.

"Is he close to being ours?"

The older male scratched his neck and stretched his back, "No, not unless we let Flamesilocks dangle in front of him again." Their disgustingly needy dynamic let a bad taste in his mouth, thankfully he had washed out his mouth in the bathroom. He tried to forget the name moaned that was not his, his eye flicked back to Xemnas watching him, his amusement heightening when he smelled the weakness permeating from his second.

"I see. Didn't go as you had hoped, now did it?"

He waved his hands dismissively, "Whatever." He crawled back under the covers and leaned on the other's muscled arm, his toes seeking out the warmth of the other's, chuckling again when he heard Xemnas make a displeased noise at the cold digits touching his own. Xemnas wrapped the arm around him, shifting as he burrowed his head under the sniper's chin, no one but Xigbar aware or having experienced this side of him. The need for affection saved only for the other, but usually only after a heated session before in the other's office.

"Now now Kitten, you didn't think I had replaced you huh?" He raked his fingers through thick silver hair, almost envious of how soft it was despite everything.

"I cannot be replaced, so no, I did not think a needy virgin could compare." Xigbar smirked, the other's confidence was infectious and somewhat flattering, if only for the fact he had sole access to the nobody over everyone else. He waved away a few sniper nobodies gathered in the corners, noting the sorcerer nobodies’s lack of movement without a direct order from their leader, it was funny to him how Xemnas kept those worshiping things so close to him. Only things he trusted ended up being around him while he slept. He watched the other's chest rise slowly and fall as he drifted off, working an arm loose of the other's weight to hook around the wide chest.

The Freeshooter looked out at the glowing moon, contemplating why exactly Xemnas was stupid enough to let him be that close. Or maybe that was it, the empty vessel next to him acknowledging his rank amongst them and lacking the true ability to fear the unknown thought process of his partner and second. Perhaps, although he knew this thought might be pushing even the largest of assumptions about Xemnas's intelligence, but perhaps Xemnas was aware of everything and simply ignored it, feigning stupidity to convince even himself of his own worth in the grand scheme.