#full clay log boy

[gregstan3]

Created by me, working off the old Chikara posters and playing off of the Highspots vids Dustin & Greg did.

[tinyattack09]

ALLL MORAL OREL FANS

you wanna see a fix where Clay is confronted by literal god???

Here it is!!!

Beseech

After the Danielle incident and the hunting tragedy, Clay Puppington receded to his study most of the time. Making no attempt to change, he would waste his days drinking and having an affair with both Censordoll and Stopframe. But, we all know that the lord giveth, and the lord taketh away.

“Clayton Middleinitial Puppington!”

“G-…God!?”

“It is I, the Heavenly Father.” His voice shook the room, and boomed into his body.

“Wha-…Why have you visited me, Lord?” Clay said, clearly in a daze.

“You have a lesson to learn, Clayton. You give your own

lessons and stories while convoluting their meaning to fit your way of destructive, abusive life. It is time that you learn, mortal. The Lord’s mercy only reaches you if it remains pure.”

A sword of pure light appeared. As the Lord held it, the power

changed its hue.

“Lord, what are you doing!?” Clay stepped back. He knew that

he was in trouble, and he couldn’t bribe this one to go away. The sword was raised, and all the light in the room was focused only on Clay.

“What is necessary to keep my world pure.”

“Why…?!”

"Why!? Pathetic. Unable to realize thy faults. Let us see your life, and what it really was."

Everything fades. There is a young boy holding a gun. It shakes in his hands as he struggles to bear such a deadly tool.

"It's a tradition in the Puppington family that the head of the household would pass off this gun to the eldest son."

"Wow, dad… But I don't think I could kill an animal. That seems too mean."

"Son, nature was made to be hunted. We get to 'play god.'"

“Play God?? Golly Pops… that doesn’t sound very right…

You know the sixty-third commandment! ‘Thou shalt never hold a gun without anything to shoot at!’ And we have to follow God’s rules!”

The memory switches to a young Puppington, holding that

same gun, while ketchup was spewed all over the child’s body.

“Clay! Clay! Clayton! Open your fucking eyes!” Clay’s body was shook violently.

“What?? I didn’t do anything!” Clay springs back to life, having

pretended he was dead. His mother then cried out

“Oh thank the heavens! Lord, thank you-“ She froze in the

middle of her sentence. She fell to the floor, her heart unresponsive.

“Mom!” Clay ran to his now dead mother, understanding what he did.

“Get back!” Clay’s father pushed him back, slamming him to a wall. No CPR could be done, and Amanda Puppington was declared dead. The memory fades to black.

Clay was frozen.

“I-… I was so young, Father! I didn’t know what I was doing! I was only six years old!”

“Then let us watch something more… recent, yes?” The memory flashes to the wilderness. Clay is an adult, and stands there with his twelve year-old son, Orel.

“Dad… I think you might be *too* drunk.”

“I… Let me tell you something, Orel! Drunk is nature.”

“I’m not really comfortable hunting with you, Dad.” Orel is tense, gripping to the log he’s sitting on.

“You aren’t comfortable hunting with me? Ever tried hunting with you!?” Clay gulps down his liquor like it’s the last bottle of water in the desert.

“Y’know kid, your cup is always half empty. Look at me. You should be more like your old man and look on the blight side of life.”

“B-Blight?” Orel said, shivering from his fear.

“No, I didn’t say ‘bright,’" Clay interrupted, "I said blight. My life is sunny and blight. ‘Bright’ means the opposite — it means sudden withering death. And that’s… not… Oh, who am I kidding, my life is full of bright…”

“Dad..?” Orel replied, terrified that his father would lose composure.

“Oh, God.”

“What’s happening, Dad!?” Orel cried.

"Oh, I hate myself…”

He runs out of liquor in the bottle. He stares at his reflection, silently hoping that it would be the last time he’d have to see it.

“Why do you quit working on me!?!”

Everything goes silent. No birds chirping, no crickets, no owls in the night.

“She always fools me, Orel. ‘I’ll make things better dear! Drink me! Put me inside of you, I’m great!’ And then she chokes me just like every other whore out there!! They’re all worthless, kid! Every woman. Don’t let ‘em get ya! All of them just wanna get ya! They just grab you and pull you into ‘em! And then you’re forced to stay in, pull out. Stay in, and pull out!! And then they cut ya! And they grip ya by the… right where it counts! And then they start SQUEEZING things out! Things that are like weights around your head! You’re stuck there for the rest of your life, with NOWHERE to go and NO ONE to be!!! AAAAGH!!!”

The scene faded out.

"What's so bad about that?! It's useful advice!" Clay exclaimed, deluded by his own prejudice.

"Just wait, mortal."

The scene reappeared. It opens to clay and Orel sitting across from each other, with clay in a drunken stupor. Orel is now as far away from Clay as he can be while still on a log.

"It's time you became a man. Where's my rifle!?" Clay yells, searching for it/

"Dad, I don't think-"

"There it is! No mistakes, no accidents, no fuck-ups, no blunders."

"Dad! W-What are you doing?!"

"Somethin' important!!"

A single, lone spark flew. Following it was an ear-splitting bang. No noise could be heard after that, other than the ringing going through both of their ears.

"D-...Dad…"

The scene fades for the final time.

Clay was frozen.

"Do you realize thy fault now? Are you able to comprehend the weight of your sin?! Do you finally see that your actions have consequences, Puppington!?" The ethereal voice boomed. Its volume was so loud that Clay was shaken back into reality.

Clay was speechless. Instead of pleading for his case, he simply stood there thinking. He didn't need to speak, for his god could tell exactly what he was thinking.

I couldn't have done that. But I did. How? Why? What do I do!? What do I do?!

But then a thought hit him.

Just give up. You've been so dedicated to your Lord your entire life. Give everything to Him.

"Please…" Clay said, hopeless and weak. Clay then fell to his knees. He didn't dare to raise his head, or so much as stand up.

"Please what?" The deity spoke. Tears began to roll down Clay's cheeks as he remained there kneeling before his God.

"Please… Have mercy," he muttered. He was too weak to raise his voice.

"Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me. I'm weak without you, God."

"You beseech for something you could not give to your own, Clayton. The kingdom of heaven does not allow those like you."

The sword of light raised up once more, as Clay said his final vow.

"I'm sorry, Orel."

A scream rang out. The scream of a weak, hopeless, self-destructive, and miserable young boy. The light disappeared, and all that was left was a soul, going to neither heaven nor hell. The soul was trapped in the mortal world, and had a chain around its neck.

Suddenly, Orel walked into the study. As he stepped further, something came into view.

The end of a chain that led directly to his neck.

RB AND LIKE I SPENT SO MUCH TKMD ON THIS OKAY BYE

[jewishbjork]

have you felt a hungry morning, felt the birds tweeting in the distant trees.

have you seen the great elk, the car killer, the matador.

what if i found the holy lands within you, what sound would you make. what if i found us a new home, a new body, one made of clay. what if i took an axe to the logs inside you to fill you with fire and pus from the blisters of my hands. would you thank me. would you get down on your knees and pray to a g-d that you know has not ears.

o' g-d o' lord please forgive me for the vivisection i pray for with which i enter into your body to wear you, for you to feel full of me, and the waters i wish to deposit to create great lakes full of fish for your bears to feed on.

the people want to destroy me for being a gay boy, a good girl, a small furry dog upon which sits a civilization of fleas, but the land feeds me berries and shelters me from lights that would otherwise burn my fur and send me to oblivion.

but i would wear oblivion like the finest of clothes. satin green dresses with pearls and poems on my lips. i would wear the worst of what you sent for me all so i could feel free again to part my lips and inhale an incense that brings my brain and body to New Sodom.

would you join me there. would you join me in New Sodom where the abused and accused lie in the sun after looking for a lost shaker of salt. would you join me there where i could place my head between your legs that make you sing prayers and praises to the great shekhinah, where we could die together hand in hand knowing we lived to our fullest. would you join me there?

[the-faultofdaedalus]

I had a dream that the king and the queen of a small country had a daughter. They needed a son, a first-born son, so in secret, without telling anyone of their child’s gender, they travelled to the nearby woods that were rumoured to house a witch.

They made a deal with that witch. They wanted a son, and they got one. A son, one made out of clay and wood, flexible enough to grow but sturdy enough to withstand its destined path, enchanted to look like a human child. The witch asked for only one thing, and that was for their daughter.

They left the girl readily.

The witch raised her as her own, and called her Thyme. The princess grew up unknowing of her heritage, grew up calling the witch Mama, and the witch did her very best to earn that title.

She was taught magic, and how to forage in the woods, how to build sturdy wooden structures and how to make the most delicious stews. The girl had a good life, and the witch was pleased.

The girl grew into a woman, and learned more and more powerful magics, grew stronger from hauling wood and stones and animals to cook, grew smarter as the witch taught her more.

She learned to deal with the people in the villages nearby, learned how to brew remedies and medicines and how to treat illness and injury, and learned how to tell when someone was lying. 

Every time the pair went into town, the people would remark at just how similar Thyme was to her mother. 

(Thyme does not know who and what she is. She does not know that she was born a princess, that she was sold. She only knows that one night after her mother read her a story about princesses and dragons, her mother had asked her if she ever wanted to be a princess.)

((Thyme only knows that she very quickly answered no. She likes being a witch, thank you very much, she likes the power that comes with it and the way that she can look at things and know their true nature.))

The witch starts preparing the ritual early, starts collecting the necessities in the winter so they can be ready by the fall equinox. Her daughter helps, and does not ask what this is for, just knows that it is important.

The witch looks at Thyme, both their hands raised into the air over a complicated array of plants, tended carefully to grow into a circle, and says, sorry.

Thyme wakes up in a clearing she recognizes well. Her mother is not there. 

The house she had grown up in is a pile of logs on the ground, destroyed and broken and in disarray, and Thyme is afraid. She calls for her mother, once, twice, and then rolls up her sleeves and begins the trek towards town. 

Her home is not here, she has neither her bow nor her knife, and if she means to figure out what happened she needs supplies. People are always in need of a witch, she knows, and her mother taught her long ago the value of a silver tongue. 

Except.

She walks out of the woods, and the town is... different. Smaller. The mill she knew so fondly, that she used to climb in with the other children of the village, isn’t there. 

There’s no indication it was ever there, and all at once, Thyme realizes what the ritual was for. 

It was a time-spell, and now she is in the past. The house is in ruins because her mother has not repaired it yet, the mill is gone because it has not been built yet. 

She is here, because...

She does not know. 

And now, it is up to her to take care of herself.

She learns the date from the villagers, gets herself a room at the inn and a good hot meal in exchange for looking at the innkeeper’s son, who has been wracked with cough for weeks now, apparently. 

His face is one Thyme knows, one that in her days were covered in wrinkles and laugh-lines, and as she goes back out into the woods to collect the herbs she needs to cure the boy, she thinks.

The boy will take the inn over from his father, and he will always welcome Thyme’s mother in with open arms for saving him when he was a child. Either the story had been wrong, or Thyme has already broken things. 

Thyme does not know which one she fears more.

She waits in the village for a full turn of the moon for her mother to come. She knows that this is when she should have come in to town. She knows that she should show up here, any day. 

The boy’s cough gets better and when it’s gone completely Thyme buys herself a knife at the blacksmith’s and returns to the woods, to the clearing she calls home. Hands on her hips, she surveys the once-cottage, and makes a plan. 

The house takes a long time to build. She buys an axe, makes a bow, and sleeps under the stars while the house is very slowly built back up. Walls, roof, floors, and then a fireplace, big and wide enough to fit a cauldron, built from special bluestone she hauls from a nearby hill one lump at a time, all the better to brew inside. 

Mama, she thinks wryly, you better be grateful for this. 

She hunts for herself, mostly, snares rabbits and shoots down deer, strips them of their skin, treats it and leaves the fur out to dry. They’ll be good blankets, a good winter cloak, someday. She knows what plants she can eat, what plants will be good, and she survives. She builds. 

She does not tell the villagers her name, and they know her only as “the witch.” 

Thyme eventually stops waiting for her mother. She watches herself in the mirror, and aches at how much they look the same. How much she’s turning out like her mother. 

She helps the villagers, occasionally travels further to heal illnesses in other villages, but mostly stays to herself, in the woods, collecting books and herbs and the house grows more and more as she remembers it. Her hair, that used to be so dark, raven’s hair, her mother would say, braiding it back for her before she learned to do it herself, gets shot through with white and goes grey. 

There’s wrinkles on her face that didn’t used to be there. 

Thyme stops waiting, and becomes the witch of the these woods.

And then. 

The King and Queen of these lands show up at her door, and they are holding a baby girl. 

Please, they say, We need a son. Give us a son. 

And Thyme, who now has a scar on her cheek from a branch whipping at her too fast to avoid, who knows that her mother had had the same scar, looks at the baby, meets her eyes, and knows that they are her eyes. 

I’ll give you a son, Thyme tells them, as if through a trance, but the cost will be your daughter.

They agree, as she knew they would, and she makes a boy out of clay and wood and she remembers learning how to make constructs like these with her mother, she breaths life into it and sends it off with the King and Queen and she holds their baby in her arms. 

Black hair. Dark eyes. A quiet baby, who looks up at her with a solemness that Thyme’s not entirely sure babies are supposed to have. 

Hello, little one, Thyme says, holds out her finger for the baby to grasp, feels her voice crack down the centre like a burnt-out log when the infant holds her finger in her chubby little hand. 

She’s a princess. This baby is a princess, and this baby is her, and her mother has never existed. She knows all these things now, but the thing that she knows most strongly is that she will protect this child, and not only because this child is her. 

(It is alright to be selfish, Thyme, she remembers her mother telling her, it is alright to take things for yourself. You do not need to give yourself away, remember that.)

She has to build a crib and cradle for the baby, and until it’s finished, until she knows that the birchwood and blanket is as comfortable as it can be, she sleeps with the baby -- with Thyme, her name will be Thyme, and she smiles as she thinks it -- on her chest. 

She goes into the village, walking through the woods as baby Thyme looks at the trees and the plants with wide eyes, brings her to a farmer who has raised three girls, knocks at her door, and says, help me. 

The witch doesn’t know how to care for a child, and she is going to learn. She must learn. 

The farmer helps her gladly, something in her eyes that tells the witch that she misses having children, that however much she loves her girls, grown and adventurous, sun-browned and strong from working the fields with her mother, she misses caring for an infant. 

She learns how to make formula out of goat’s milk, how to burp the baby, how to change and wash her. She learns how to tell why the baby might be crying -- even though baby Thyme rarely cries, prefers to watch the world with her big, dark eyes -- and how to fix what might be wrong. 

She sits with the farmer as Thyme plays with a doll carved from a cow’s bone, and learns how to thresh wheat. 

The farmer never asks where the baby came from, but does remark how alike they look, that Thyme looks just like her mother, and the witch smiles at that. 

Thyme seems to grow quickly, learning to crawl, and then to toddle around while hanging off the furniture, and the witch cries at Thyme’s first, unsteady and unsupported steps, even as she builds high shelves into the rafters of her home so that Thyme won’t end up eating things she shouldn’t.

The witch takes Thyme into the village more and more, first in a bag tucked up close against her chest, and when Thyme grows more, holding her hand as she runs through the woods as fast as her little legs will carry her. Every time Thyme runs off to bring back a flower, the witch feels a surge of fondness she refuses to suppress. 

The mill is built, and the witch watches as Thyme runs off to play with the other village kids, brave and fearless and so, so curious. 

She teaches Thyme her first charm when the girl is eight, and Thyme takes to the craft like she takes to memorizing the names and uses of plants, like she takes to a bow and knife, like she takes to books, exactly as the witch knew she would. 

Sometimes, the witch hates the lie she’s made Thyme into. She agonizes over it, over she should tell the girl her true parentage, should spill this secret like a cut bag of wheat, but--

She does not want Thyme to know that she was traded away so easily. She does not want Thyme to know that to her birth parents, she was worthless. 

She asks, though. Asks, do you want to be like the girls in the books? a princess? and is warmed to the core when Thyme answers no. 

Yes, the witch had known what she had answered. Yes, the witch knows that Thyme loves her life, her studies, the woods, her home. 

(Yes, the witch knows that Thyme loves her mother, because the witch loved her mother. She knows this, and still, she asks.)

The witch teaches Thyme how to make constructs, how to animate them, is proud beyond words when on her fifth try, casting over a wood skeleton covered in clay, the shape of a rabbit, the thing shivers to life, and hops over to push it’s nose into Thyme’s outstreached hands, the girl beaming so brightly that the witch thinks the woods might be glowing with it. The rabbit-construct is lumpy, and uneven, it’s movements slow and unnatural, and she has not yet taught Thyme how to cast the illusion spell onto it that will make it look real, and alive, but Thyme looks so happy that the witch nearly, nearly, forgets her guilt at the purpose of this spell.

Thyme grows, first into a teen, skinny and narrow from how she had shot taller like a willow tree, bony and sharp and lean, and into a woman, growing broad from good food and hard work, takes to hiking into the woods for days at a time with only her knife and her bow and a pouch of herbs, returns home with wild hair the witch combs out for her as Thyme tells her of her adventures.

It matters not that the witch knows all of these stories, knows them because she lived them herself, when she was a girl. She listens to her daughter, dragging the comb through her tangled hair, asks about the falls she found, the cliffs, the animals, the herbs, makes sure that Thyme knows that she will be listened to, that she deserves to be listened to. She listens, because she knows that no matter how much Thyme loves going on these adventures, she also loves coming home, and sharing in these simple, cozy moments.

Winter comes. With the cold comes a grief, a guilt, that weighs heavy on the witch’s heart. She begins preparing for the ritual, for the time-spell that will send her daughter backwards and into loneliness and into the position to save herself from what her true parents would force her to become, backwards to learn the truth, backwards to become her.

She knows why she must do this. She has scryed on her construct, the prince, the soon-to-be-king, every moon since she sent him away and took herself in his place. She sees what he has grown into, she sees what the power has done to him, she sees and she knows that she and her daughter would have suffered greatly in that role. She sees him make hard choices.

She sees him go to war.

She sees the illusion she cast over branch and clay bleed. She sees him, bandages around his torso, arm hanging awkwardly by his side, leave the castle, and wade into the lake outside of it’s walls. She sees the clay in the lakebed melt towards him, heal the wounds, make him fit to wield a sword the very next day.

She does not want that. She does not want that for her daughter.

It is alright to be selfish, Thyme, she remembers her mother saying to her, remembers saying to her Thyme, bleeding for others is a gift. It is valued, but it is up to you to give it.

Spring comes. Reedy plants are tended into a circle. Summer comes. Fires are burned over the dirt, ash mixed with soil. Fall comes. The heart of a boar is buried under the circle, placed to rest with gentle words. The witch and her daughter, Thyme and Thyme, stand together, hands raised, looking at each other.

The witch whispers, I’m sorry.

And her daughter disappears.

[yeenybeanies]

INTRO: Clayton Hess

just some quick info to clear things up: this is a world wherein humans & human-sized things exist, but also centaurs exist, & centaurs are huge. this is normal. well... semi-normal. humans and giantfolk don't tend to interact much. but!! this is my first piece with my big centaur boy clay posting here as promised! one day late smh you can find this piece and others on my patreon!

OCS | clayton hess

5,671 words

no warnings

thanks for reading!

Before the sun had even risen, there was much activity on the floor of the towering megaforest. People scrambled about at the mouth of the path leading further in, calling out to each other, distributing supplies, reigning in their horses, calming their dogs. Everyone moved with an urgent, anxious energy.

“O’Rourke! All teams are ready to depart.”

The old man, O’Rourke, lifted his eyes first to the horizon, and then to the one addressing him. His fluffy, grey eyebrows stayed fixed, knitted in a stern, stony frown. “Good. Stay ready, ladies and gentlemen. As soon as that sun rises, we’re going in.”

“You said that we had one more joining us?” The same person, a woman named Sanouk, looked to the teams of people assembled around her. “Who are they going with?”

“Yeah, he said he’d be here.” O’Rourke continued to watch the sky, noting the changing colors. The pinks and purples were gradually bleeding into oranges and yellows. Dawn was almost over. “Don’t worry about placing him. He’s gonna be going on his own.”

Sanouk eyed him skeptically. “Why? We already have one missing girl to find in this megaforest; we don’t need to lose anyone else. He could go with Team Fou––. . ..” Her words trailed off, her attention suddenly occupied with something else. First she felt it in the ground: a low rumbling, almost like a faint earthquake; then she heard it as a steadily-growing thunder.

O’Rourke shook his head and waved off her concerns. “I don’t think he’ll be getting lost. He knows these woods like the back of his hand.”

“But––but that’s–-” Sanouk tried to speak, but her rising concern over the thundering and the quaking kept cutting her off. O’Rourke could see the worry on her face, and on the faces of everyone else present, but he chose not to address it. All questions would be answered momentarily.

The disturbance sounded like a landslide. It had not only the people nervous, but the dogs and horses as well. A few high-strung beasts reared up and hollered their concern, while others fidgeted anxiously. The noise crescendoed, then abruptly quieted to a slower, rhythmic thumping. Concern in the gathering turned to confusion. Still, O’Rourke looked unbothered.

All attention snapped to a rustling in the dense foliage lining the path’s mouth. Alarmed gasps and yelps rang out as the source of the disturbance––the rustling, the rumbling, the quaking––pushed his way through the trees and stepped into view. Dogs barked, horses whinnied, and a good many people retreated several feet away from the newcomer.

The two most notable things about this newcomer were his enormous size, and his four very equine legs––and equine body from the waist down. He was a centaur. From under the wide brim of his hat, he surveyed the crowd, noting the fear in many a human and beast.

“Mr. Hess!” O’Rourke removed his hat and waved it, drawing the newcomer’s attention. “Good morning! Glad you could join us.” The old man strode forward, through the still nervous crowd.

“Morning,” the centaur said, his voice unexpectedly, and intentionally soft. He remained where he was, neither wanting to scare the crowd more, nor risk getting any of them underhoof.

O’Rourke stopped a few yards away from the centaur and turned around to face the crowd. He waved an arm up. “Everyone, this is Clayton Hess. As you can see, he’s a centaur, so be sure to keep out of his way. He’ll be helping us in searching for that little girl. Sanouk––” He beckoned the woman to step forward, which she did after some hesitation, “––if  you’ll please give him a quick rundown of the plan, then we can be on our way.”

Sanouk stared up at Clay, her mouth agape. Clay paid it no mind, being quite used to the range of emotions humans felt whenever they first saw him. He took a couple of steps backwards and slowly lowered himself onto the ground, legs tucked neatly under him, out of the way. From there, he leaned forward, arms folded behind his back.

“Morning, Miss,” he said with a polite dip of his head. “I hope I can be of some help in finding––”

“Mani Sanouk,” she interrupted, her hand extended out to him. She moved stiffly, clearly uneasy.

Clay blinked, one brow raised. This wasn’t the first time a human had offered to “shake his hand,” but it was still an unusual gesture. Not wanting to be rude, however, he brought around one hand and, moving deliberately slow, offered his pinky to meet her. “Just ‘Clay’ is fine. Pleasure to meet you.”

Sanouk went rigid at his hand’s approach, so much so that Clay could feel her tension when they made contact. She was a tough woman, though; she held onto her nerve through their “handshake,” and didn’t flinch at his retreat.

“You as well. Here’s a map that shows . . . er . . ..” As she pulled said map from her satchel, Sanouk frowned. It was a rather large map in her hands, but, to a truly behemoth being like Clay, it was no bigger than a business card. “Erm, right. Teams One and Two will be covering these sections,” she said, pointing to the marked areas. “Three and four will be covering these sections.”

Clay squinted at the map. He couldn’t quite make out all of the writing, but the marked sections were clear enough. “Understood. I’ll cover those four sections to the East.”

“Four of them?” Sanouk’s head snapped up to meet his eyes. “That is a lot of ground. Are you sure you’re going to be able to––” she paused mid-sentence, reconsidering her question and the being she was talking to. Clay allowed himself some amusement and a faint smile.

“I might be able to cover more, depending on when and where we’re rendezvousing.”

“Right . . .. Right. Okay.” She looked back down to the map and pointed to a river bend. “We will all meet back at this bend in Joyelette’s River at noon. That will give each team about five hours to search their sections. Do you know who we are looking for?”

“I do,” the centaur said with a nod. “O’Rourke printed me a picture and gave me all the information I needed.”

Sanouk returned the nod and stowed her map once more. “Then we are good to start.”

Clay gave the woman a moment to step back, then pushed himself off of the ground and rose to his full, towering height. “I’ll head out first. Best of luck to all of you. Let’s find this girl.” He tipped his hat to the crowd, then turned and started off on the trail into the giant forest. Once he was several yards away, he could hear the other groups slowly filtering in behind him. Their horses and dogs still made nervous noises, but he figured they’d calm once he was out of sight.

It was always interesting to see how humans and animals that had never encountered a centaur before reacted to him.

                                                                        – – –

By ten o’clock, the forest had changed dramatically. The sun hung high in the sky, beating down on the landscape below. It was hot and humid, almost muggy. Birds swooped around Clay’s head, snatching up insects from the tiny swarm that he’d accumulated. While most of the insects were too small to actually bother him, there were still the occasional few that managed to make a nuisance of themselves. They had his ears flicking, his tail swishing. He lamented silently to himself for not bringing some sort of repellant.

“Pauline!” he called, his voice echoing amongst the trees. He tempered his yell, not wanting to scare the girl, but wanting to be heard, should she be around. “Pauline Kelly! Are you there?”

Silence. Clay sighed, his ears drooping momentarily. This wasn’t his first rescue mission, nor would it be his last; he was familiar with the monotony and the frustrating silence after every call.

Sometimes the missing person was found. Sometimes they weren’t.

He hoped, for this little girl’s sake, she would be found. It wasn’t just exposure that could kill out here. Megaforests were not meant for humans, let alone for human children. Like the massive trees and the greenery, the fauna in here were gargantuan in their own right. Most of the larger creatures wouldn’t pay mind to a human; it was the smaller ones––relatively speaking––that worried Clay more.

Clay stopped in his tracks, stiff, ears pricked. A scream. A scream broke the silence.

“Pauline? Pauline!” The centaur called out. “Pauline, can you hear me?”

“Help!”

There! Clay’s head snapped in the direction of the scream. Turning quick on his hooves, he leapt into a gallop. “Pauline! I’m coming!” From the sounds of things, she couldn’t be too far away. He raced through the foliage, running so fast that he might as well have been flying. The girl screamed again, making the centaur skid to a halt and reassess his direction. He looked around desperately, feeling his anxiety rising.

There!

Atop a fallen log, a bear-sized, reptilian creature dug at the rotting wood with its claws. Another scream rang out, a little muffled. Clay gritted his teeth and rushed the lizard. Upon spotting him, it puffed up and hissed, but its threats were no match for his own. He halted before the log and reared up on his hind legs, forehooves kicking, promising something far deadlier than anything it could offer in return. Fighting a full-grown centaur was not worth whatever meal it could have made of the girl. It quickly deflated and skittered away, nearly losing its footing in its haste to avoid Clay��s punishment. Only once it disappeared into the underbrush and vanished from all his senses did Clay turn his eyes to the log, his expression softening.

“Pauline?” Carefully he approached the log, ears angled towards it. Quiet sniffles and whimpers came from within. Clay rested a hand atop the log and peered in through the hole the lizard was digging at. There, backed into a little nook, sat the girl from the picture––the girl they were all looking for. Dirt caked her skin, and her clothes looked torn. He couldn’t see much else of her physical state, but she was alive. Relief overcame the centaur.

Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived. The girl, upon looking up and seeing Clay’s massive face staring down at her, let out an ear-splitting shriek. Clay flinched, ears swiveling backwards to try and dampen the noise. His hands shot up in a placating gesture, though it only made the girl scream again.

“Miss Pauline––please! I’m here to help you. If you could just come out––awh––!”

The girl scrambled out of view. Clay bit back a frustrated groan and tried to catch sight of her again. From the sounds of things, she was crawling deeper into the log.

By the skies, it would have been better if one of the human groups had found her. She was, understandably, terrified of him. It was going to be a challenge to get her out of the log. He could tear it open, but that would just scare the little one even more, and could potentially harm her. He’d save that as a last resort.

Clay sighed. He rubbed his temples, digging under his hat. With a heavy thud, the centaur sat down on his haunches. He figured he might be here for a while.

“I know you’re scared, dearheart. You’ve been in this forest for two days, probably seen some frightening critters like that lizard. Probably hungry n’ thirsty. Tired too.” He opted not to say as much, but Clay figured that the girl would not have survived another night in the megaforest. She was lucky to have made it this long.

“My name’s Clay,” he continued. He kept his voice soft, hoping that he might be able to soothe her. “I know I’m big, and I’m kinda scary-looking, like everything else in these woods. But your Ma and Pa––Mr. Marty and Mrs. Lana Kelly––they’re both real’ worried about you. They sent me and a bunch of other people out here to look for you.”

The sniffling was softer now. Clay had to strain his hearing to catch it. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign. He listened, silently willing the girl to give him something––any sort of sign that he was getting somewhere with her.

“Y-you… know my mom and dad?” came the small voice after a long silence. Clay’s ears flicked up. Oh, in this moment, her voice was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.

“Er––yes. I know them.” Or rather, he knew of them. It didn’t matter right now. “They’ve got a whole lot of us combing these woods for you, Miss Pauline. They miss you bunches, want you to come home.”

The girl went silent again, much to Clay’s alarm. He stood up again and tried to spot her within the log. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at her the first time; he could only guess her condition. Was she injured? Had he been too late in chasing off that lizard? He couldn’t smell any blood, but maybe–––

Wait. The girl was on the move again, picking her way through the log’s hollow interior. Clay followed the sound with ears and eyes as she climbed down towards the lower end. Though he was tempted to meet her down there, he decided that it was best to remain still and let her come to him.

Hopefully she wouldn’t run when she saw him.

Once she reached the opening at the bottom––likely the same opening she’d entered the log through––Pauline timidly peeked around the jagged wood. Wide eyes first found the centaur’s giant hooves, then followed up his forelegs, his torso, and way, way up to his face, where he stared right back down at her. She shrank away upon meeting his gaze, but didn’t break eye contact. Clay felt a pang in his hearts.

“That’s it, dearheart,” he said, his voice as soft as he could manage without outright whispering. “You’re so brave. Can you come a little closer so I can see you better?”

Pauline shook her head quickly. It didn’t surprise Clay.

“Okay… that’s fine. I’m gonna sit down, alright? Don’t go nowhere.” He waited a moment for a response, and continued on when he got none. Slowly, and keeping his hands where the girl could see them, Clay got down onto his foreknees, and then dropped his hocks. The girl flinched, but didn’t run.

“Alright now. I know you’re scared, little one. I understand. But I promise, I ain’t gonna hurt you.” Pauline just continued to stare up at him. Sitting down did cut nearly a third of his height, but Clay still towered a good sixty feet over the girl. He did his best not to loom, impossible as it was.

He told her more about himself, about how he’d come into these woods many times to find lost humans, about how he liked to grow fruits and raise bees. He asked her some questions, too––some of which she even answered. Some of them, he already knew the answers too. Pauline Kelly was seven years old, an older sister, and she’d just had a birthday when she went missing. What he learned was that her favorite color was blue––like the color of his shirt, she liked to fingerpaint, and she thought his hair was pretty. That last point, wholly unprompted, caught the centaur off-guard.

“You like my hair?”

Pauline nodded. “Mhm.” She looked a little less scared now, and stood where Clay could better see her. Thankfully, save for some minor scrapes and bruises, she looked unharmed.

Clay pushed his hat backwards off his head, letting it fall and catch on the string around his neck. Black and grey locks spiked out at odd angles, only partially tamed with a swipe of his hand.

“You wanna touch it?”

His offer had the girl pause. She regarded him nervously, looking between his face, his hair, his hands, and… down at his tail. Clay followed her gaze. That could be a good first step. She could reach his tail on her own. He swished it around so the long hair, the same black and grey as was on his head, was closer, and more in his view.

“Go on ahead. I won’t move none,” he encouraged. Pauline hesitated, clearly debating with herself. Eventually, her curiosity won the debate. Though she remained wary of Clay, glancing up at him every other second, she shuffled out from the log’s shelter. She gave him a wide berth as she circled over to his tail. Even when she stood a mere foot from him, she paused. An approving nod from Clay granted her the last bit of encouragement she needed to sit down on her knees and run her hands over the dark locks.

Clay’s tail was kempt, for a farmer. He combed it and kept it neatly trimmed without sacrificing its purpose. Even still, the hair was coarse and wiry, as was the case with all centaur tails and manes. That didn’t seem to bother Pauline, though. She rubbed chunks of hair between her hands, combed her fingers through it, and even twisted a few locks into tiny braids. Then she stood up and moved closer to his hind hoof––the white-socked one. Clay watched her carefully, but remained still, wanting neither to spook her nor hurt her. She knocked her little fists against the tough, cream nail, and then the metal shoe underneath.

“Did this hurt?” She asked. For the moment, there was more wonder in her eyes than fear.

“Hm? The shoe? Naw, that didn’t hurt none. Barely felt it when I had them put in.”

Pauline moved on from the hoof and dared to step even closer, right up to his side. Clay leaned over to better keep an eye on her. She dusted her hands––what a polite girl––and raised them to feel the short, tan fur along his flank. It too was pretty coarse, though it was a bit softer than his tail.

“It’s a lot softer up here,” Clay offered, startling the girl. Her head whipped up to meet his gaze. She looked a little bewildered, as though she’d forgotten that he was alive and present. He pointed to his head of hair. “Softest you’ll find on a centaur. And I take real’ good care of mine.” He gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Immediately, the girl’s nervousness returned. “Um…”

Clay twisted his upper body to better face her. He brought one hand down to the ground a few feet away from her, palm up, fingers flat. “Promise I won’t hurt you, Miss Pauline.”

She stared at his hand, once again debating with herself. Clay waited patiently, watching her, willing to accept if she didn’t want to come to him immediately. They still had another hour or so before the rendezvous at the river. So long as no danger came along, he would use that time to gain her trust. It’d make things easier for the both of them. The girl deserved to feel safe after two days of being lost in a megaforest.

With an understandable amount of hesitancy, Pauline drew nearer to Clay’s hand. Like she had his tail and his hoof, she first inspected it. Next to him, the girl was miniscule. From fingertip to wrist, his hand was longer than most humans were tall. With her, his pinky finger exceeded her in height. She gave the pad of his index finger an experimental prod, and flinched when it twitched in response. Clay offered a quick apology. It seemed to reassure her, if only a little. She put her hands to his finger again, feeling over the whorls and the callouses. Clays hands, though gentle, were not soft. They were the hands of a working man, rough and weathered..

It took the girl a few more minutes of touching and feeling, and a little bit more encouragement from Clay, before she felt confident enough to step up onto his hand. She took a few unsteady steps over his fingers, finding it a little unusual and difficult to walk on such a squishy surface. Where his fingers met his palm, she lost her balance and fell onto her knees with a yelp. Clay fought back the urge to cup his hand around her.

“You’re okay, dearheart. Why don’t you sit down in the middle right there, hunh? Get yourself comfortable.”

Pauline, finding that to be a good idea, did as told and sat herself cross-legged in the center of his palm. She planted her hands to either side of her for balance. Smart girl. Once she settled, his fingers curled in around her, not enough to enclose her, but to make a barrier to keep her from falling. She sat in nervous silence, glancing at her surroundings. Slowly, carefully, Clay lifted his hand from the ground. The girl tensed, but made no sound as he brought her up to eye level. It was even more obvious now how small she was compared to him.

Up close, Clay could get a better look at her. Her clothes were dirty and torn in places, she had a layer of dirt and mud caking her skin, and her arms and legs had a good many abrasions. Overall, though, she looked fine. Stressed and ready to get home to her parents, but fine.

Her sniffling snapped Clay out of his silent observation. He blinked twice and regarded the girl inquisitively. She’d begun shaking in his hand, and little tears pooled in her eyes.

“Now now, Miss Pauline. You’ve gotten this far. You can be brave for a bit longer.” A warm smile spread across his lips. She was a cute little girl. Tough, too. If she weren’t so terrified, the centaur might have given her a little nuzzle. Instead, though, he’d give her what she was promised for her bravery. Clay brought the girl closer and tipped his head forward, letting his forelocks hang closer to her. He closed his eyes, hoping that it might make the girl more comfortable. Once all stopped moving, Pauline stood up, still a bit shaky. She reached out to the long strands, taking a handful and filtering it through her fingers. Clay had not been lying; the hair on his head was much softer than that on his tail or his fur. Pauline was immediately enraptured. She ran her hands through it, rubbed a lock to her cheek, fluffed it and smoothed it again. She took a chunk and loosely braided it, giggling softly. Clay was content to let her do as she pleased. He was surprised, though, when she moved closer and ran a hand over his eyebrow. Said eyebrow twitched, then joined its counterpart in a furrow.

“What are you doing, little one?” He spoke not with any accusation, but rather kind amusement.

“You’re missing hair on this one,” she said, touching his right brow. Clay opened his eyes, but she was too close for him to focus on. His eyelashes brushed her arms, drawing another giggle from her.

“Yep. Got a cut a long, long time ago, and the hair never grew back.” His smile widened. A child’s wonder was a marvelous thing to see. To be the object of that wonder was, in a way, flattering. After everything this girl had been through over the past couple of days, she deserved some happiness.

“Could I please touch your beard?” she asked. Wordlessly, Clay obliged. He tipped his head back, lifting his chin so she could reach it. With far less hesitation than before, the girl pushed her hands into the shorter hair. It wasn’t as soft as the hair on his head, but still softer than his tail. It tickled her palms as she rubbed along his chin and jaw.

Clay glanced up at the sky, noting the sun’s position. There was still time, but noon was approaching.

“Dearheart,” he said, gently pulling his head back so he could better regard her. “I’d love to let you braid my hair all day, but I think it’s time I got you back to your parents.”

The girl’s eyes lit up, as if she’d suddenly remembered why Clay was here at all. She nodded eagerly.

Warmth filled Clay’s chest. He reached with his middle finger to give her a gentle pat to the head. “Sit down now, just like before. I’ll take you to them.” Obediently, she did as told and returned to her previous spot. Clay pulled his hat back onto his head, then cupped his free hand next to his occupied one for extra security. “Hold on, now. This might be a bit bumpy.”

That was putting it lightly. A centaur standing up was a rocky ride. He lurched as his hooves found footing under him, making the girl yelp and grab onto his pinky. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped harder when she was suddenly lifted even higher into the air.

“It’s alright, Miss Pauline,” Clay said. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, though she kept her eyes closed.

Standing up was the rough part. Clay, like most centaurs, could keep his upper body steady through a full gallop. While walking, the worst Pauline had to endure was a little bit of easy swaying. He periodically glanced down at her as he picked his way through the forest, happy to see that most of her fear was gone. She looked around at the giant trees and bushes with a new sense of awe. From up here, things didn’t look quite so daunting. The fact that no predators could reach her provided a great deal of comfort too.

With comfort came confidence. The girl started asking questions about the forest, about Clay, about centaurs and other large creatures. Clay indulged her curiosity as best he could. Having lived with these woods his whole life, he was something of an expert. Were they not on a bit of a time constraint, he would have been happy to stop and show her some of the things he talked about, like the bright mushrooms or the abandoned bird nests.

Clay could smell the river before he could see it. He could hear it, too, as they drew closer. Over the sound of its flowing, he could hear some voices, too––human voices. Dogs barking greeted him first as the animals sensed his approach. He paid them no mind, nor the startled noises of the humans as he pushed through the trees and into the path that ran perpendicular to the river.

“Mr. Hess!” said a familiar voice. Sanouk waved to him, and he nodded in return.

“Afternoon, Miss Sanouk.” The centaur stopped a few yards away from the group of humans, both for courtesy and safety’s sake. He curled his fingers again to keep his charge secure as he once more lowered himself down to the ground. “I believe I’ve found who we were looking for.”

Sanouk eyed him curiously, then looked to his cupped hands. Her expression morphed from confused to elated. “You found her?” The rest of the group perked up at the news too.

Clay nodded and turned his attention to the girl in his hands. “Miss Pauline, these people were out here looking for you too. They’re real’ nice. I’m sure they’ve got some snacks and water they’d be happy to share with you.”

Pauline looked uncertain, but the mention of food and water brightened her mood. Clay brought his hands down to the ground and flattened his fingers. A few of the other humans cheered and whooped their joy. Sanouk looked ready to cry. She took a knee and held her arms out to the girl.

“Come here, child. Come get something to eat and drink. Your parents will be here soon.” She beckoned with her hands.

Pauline looked back to Clay, who gave her an encouraging nod, then she scampered out of his hands and ran into Sanouk’s arms. The woman embraced her tightly. She mouthed a word of thanks to Clay, then lifted the girl up and carried her to the crowd, many of whom already had water and food to offer. Clay straightened and crossed his arms, satisfied that the girl was now safe.

A few humans broke from the group to thank Clay for finding the girl. He humbly shrugged off their thanks, saying that they were all out here looking for her. Any one of them would have brought her back if they’d found her. He was just the lucky one. Still, it was nice to see that at least some of the humans were warming up to him.

Over the next half hour, the other groups filtered in. The Kellys were part of the last group to arrive. Pauline spotted her mother before either parent could receive the news. “Mama!” she yelled, startling the whole group. Both parents looked up, bewildered, to see their daughter sprinting towards them. Their knees hit the ground, arms outstretched, and cocooned the girl in a long-overdue embrace. A chorus of sniffles and relieved sighs echoed throughout the whole group. Clay looked away, not wanting to intrude on a personal moment. He was just happy to see the Kellys reunited.

After a few minutes, approaching footsteps drew the centaur’s attention back. Ears pricked, he turned his head to see O’Rourke walking his way. The old man wore a grin as wide as his face.

“I’m told you’re the one that found her.”

Clay dipped his head once. “Out in section six. Got to her just in time, too. Found her in a log with a lizard trying to get at her, the poor thing.”

O’Rourke raised a fuzzy brow. “Have any trouble catching her?”

“No, not really. I let her come to me. Figured she’d been through enough; she didn’t need me grabbing for her and scaring her more.” He lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. His pinky caught on one of the braids the girl had left there. It brought a fond smile to his lips. “She okay? Didn’t look too banged up to me, but I’m no doctor. Certainly not no human doctor.”

“She’s fine,” O’Rourke said with a wave. “Better now that she’s back with her family. Thank you, Clay, for coming out today. We wouldn’t have found her without you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Clay said.

“I do. Don’t be so modest. You saved that girl’s life today,” the old man insisted.

Clay was ready to retort, feeling a little indignant with his modesty being challenged, but he paused when he spotted others approaching. O’Rourke followed his gaze to the Kellys, Marty and Lana, heading over. Pauline was held in her mother’s arms, clutching a snack bar that she eagerly munched on. They stopped next to O’Rourke, who gave the father a firm pat on the shoulder before he departed.

The father spoke first. “Mr. Hess…?”

“Clay,” he corrected.

“Clay…” he repeated, clearly uneasy. “I––we wanted to thank you for finding our daughter. We knew that if we didn’t find her today, she might…” he trailed off as his voice started to shake, and swallowed thickly.

Clay shrugged humbly. “No need to thank me, Mr. Kelly. I’m just happy I could help. Happy to see her safe.”

“You saved her life,” the mother said. She looked less afraid than her spouse, like her strength and courage returned with her child. “You’ve done us a great service. How could we ever repay you?”

Clay frowned. These humans didn’t listen, did they? It must be their tiny ears. He shook his head. “I don’t need repayment. A child was lost, and I helped find her. I just did what any decent man would do.”

“But––”

He waved a hand, cutting off any rebuttal. “You wanna repay me? You take that girl home, get her cleaned up and healthy again. You take care of her and raise her well. That’s plenty reward for me.”

The parents stared up at him, clearly feeling contrary. Before they could say anything, though, Pauline started to squirm and protest the hold she was in. Once mother reluctantly set her down, the girl ran towards Clay. She beamed up at him, arms held over her head. The centaur went still, going so far as to halt his breathing.

“Clay!” the girl called, waving her hands. There was no trace of her previous fear.

Clay allowed himself a breath and a smile. “Yes, dearheart?” She pointed to his hands. Now it was his turn to be hesitant, but he did still oblige the child. He lowered a hand for her, offering her his forefinger. She latched onto it, hugging as tightly as she could. The gesture filled his hearts with a warmth he didn’t often experience.

“Now now, don’t go getting all sappy on me,” he chided gently. He couldn’t return the hug, but he could allow her to hold on for as long as she wanted. Her parents followed behind, both resting a hand on his knuckles.

“Thank you, Clay,” the father repeated.

The centaur shook his head. “It was my pleasure.”

Pauline held on for another minute before her mother coaxed her away. Clay pulled his hand back, still aware of the little warm spot where she’d held him. He gave the family a wave as they retreated back to the crowd, no doubt ready to head home and tend to their daughter.

Clay didn’t stick around much longer. There was nothing left for him to do here. The girl was safe. The family was whole. He was happy. With all humans a safe distance away, the centaur gathered himself up to his feet, tipped his hat farewell to the crowd, and turned to the forest to head home.

He could celebrate the day on his own with a bottle of his homemade cider.

[violett-writes]

Love Languages and Achievements

Everyone knew Karl's love language was touch. It was very obvious to even the most dense of fans. From kissing his friend's cheek to slamming into others with a powerful hug, the man always showed his affection through touch.

The Dream SMP friend group thought that he was the very definition of touch love language. No one in their eyes could ever top Karl.

Until they met you. Hoo boy did you top Karl and his touching.

When you and the boys, Nick, Clay, and George met up, you always had a hand on one of them. At the airport you slammed into Nick with a hug, nearly taking him off his feet before he caught you and gave you an equally tight hug. When you met George for the first time, you grabbed his hands and squeezed so hard he thought his fingers broke. When you met Clay, you gave him a good ol' british kiss, smacking your lips comically loud as you did.

So, the boys started brainstorming. From your hilariously loud laugh to your squeaks when you get too excited, they knew you would be a perfect match for their soft friend.

They contacted the one person they knew would be able to make this a reality.

green block man, the queen, cowboy, and jimster

"Operation Matchmaker" group chat

green block man

Jimmy. We need a favor.

jimster

ummm what's up?

the queen

You know (Y/N)?

jimster

sorta?

cowboy

this is operation matchmaking

green block man

we did not agree on that name...

the queen

YES WE LITERALLY DID

cowboy

guys stfu focus

jimster

what is going on

green block man

(y/n) and karl

jimster

i think im following

the queen

can you do some video to get them together????

And so the plan was set into motion. Jimmy was going to craft the perfect challenge video with the members of the Dream SMP that could make it and of course, the main characters, you and Karl.

Jimmy recruited as many people as he could, posing it as a Dream SMP meet up. You, Quackity, Badboyhalo, Sapnap, Dream, George, Tommy, Wilbur, Tubbo, Jimmy, and of course, Karl, were all going to meet up at one of his filming studios. It was going to be a real life minecraft video, where you all had to complete various minecraft achievements. The one with the most achievements at the end wins $1,000.00.

The day of the video, you picked out a creeper costume while on facetime with Nick.

"Nick," You whine, pulling up your thigh high fishnet stockings. You giggle at yourself in the mirror, your green dress just barely grazing the top of your stockings, the painted on pixels making you just pass for an attempted creeper. Key word, attempted.

You grab your phone and turn it around showing off your ridiculous costume. "I don't think this is appropriate. Is anyone else going to be dressing up??" You ask him as he bursts out laughing at your getup.

"I'm going to be an oak log and Wilbur is going to be an enderman, but those are the only two confirmations I got." Nick choked out, tears filling his eyes as he continues to laugh.

"And why do I have to be the only one dressing up as an e-whore?!" You break down, laughing at yourself as you add green blush and winged eyeliner.

You roll your eyes at Nick and hang up the phone as you get into your car to drive to the address Jimmy texted you a few weeks ago.

When you finally arrived, Nick was sitting in his car as you pull up next to him. He got out and you were finally able to see his costume. A brown striped hoodie with equally hideous brown pants topped off with a light brown beanie.

You immediately start to giggle, covering your stomach as you bend over, trying to suppress your loud snorts. "That.... that is the worst costume I have ever seen!" You continue to laugh as you grab onto Nick's shoulder. Once the two of you got all your giggles out, you walked hand in hand into the studio.

You were met with Wilbur, dressed as an enderman, Clay, dressed up as a lava block, and Tommy dressed as a pig. You and Nick spent far too long laughing at Tommy's outfit, much his chagrin.

After Tommy was finally finished shouting at you and Nick for laughing at his costume, you finally went into the main filming room, riding in on Wilbur's back. The meet up was already in full swing. Bad and George were chatting in a corner, glasses of punch in hand. Quackity and Tubbo were laughing at the snack table. Jimmy and Karl were whispering together by the cameras.

"(Y/N)!" George yelled, enthusiastically waving at you. You giggle and wave at him, getting off of Wilbur's back to bounce over to him. You wrap him into a tight hug.

"I'm so glad to see you again!" You whisper into his chest.

Jimmy claps, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. "Alright folks, as most of you know, we're going to be doing a minecraft achievements challenge. You have to try and gain the most challenges in minecraft. But, what you don't know, is this is going to be a partner challenge!"

You gasp, biting your lip as you excitedly grin at the faces around you. Most of them you know well, aside from Jimmy and Karl whom you've only spoken to once or twice.

"Here's the partner list," Jimmy takes a deep breath for suspense. "Dream and George!" The two boys go to each other's side, high fiving each other.

"You fools are going down!" Clay snears as George points two fingers at all of you.

"Quackity and Badboyhalo!" The two step to the otherside of Clay and George, grinning at each other.

"You muffin heads are screwed!" Bad giggles, trying to act tough as Quackity nods excitedly.

"Sapnap and Wilbur!"

Sapnap and Wilbur join each others side, lining up with the rest of the teams as they nod in silence glaring at the groups.

"Tubbo and Tommy!"

"Obviously." Clay groans, rolling his eyes as the younger pair bump chests, making obnoxious grunts that you can only described as frat boy hype noises.

"and (Y/N) and Karl." Jimmy announces the last time and you smile, skipping over to Karl.

You offer him your hand, "Nice you meet you, Karl. We're going to kick some serious ass."

Karl nods, shaking your hand as you two line up with the other teams. "100% win streak, baby!"

You giggle as Karl wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tight to him. You wrap your arm around his middle, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

"As you can see, we have various items around the studio." Jimmy goes on to explain the rules of the game as you glance around the room.

Off in the left side of the corner, there was a makeshift oak forest. On the right side there was a stone wall. In the middle there was a table headed by Chandler, labeled as CRAFTING TABLE. He had boxes filled with various craftable items behind him. In the middle of the room there was a kiddy pool, something in the bottom that you can't quite see. Nearby the crafting table there was a table with chests, labeled as INVENTORY.

"Get as many achievements as you can. I'll be watching to see which ones you gain. Only one team can make one achievement. I'll be keeping score and crossing off the ones already achieved. Let the games begin!" Jimmy yells, winking at the camera off to the side as the teams start running to different corners of the room.

You gasp, grabbing Karl's hand and dragging him to the table with the inventory chests on it.

You open the box as Karl realizes what you're doing. He quickly looks over to Jimmy. "We opened our inventory!"

Jimmy nods, putting a point onto the score board and crossing out Taking Inventory on the Achievement List.

"And (Y/N) and Karl just got their first achievement." His words were met with loud groans.

"How could we have forgotten that one?!" George asks, slapping his forehead as him and Clay break apart the constructed oak tree.

You look over at Karl with parted lips and giggle. This is the first time you ever really looked at Karl. Of course you've watched his streams, but a web camera can only do someone so much justice. His tousled brown hair laid on his forehead, almost in front of his eyes. It makes you pause for a second, butterflies forming in your stomach.

Karl smiles, his eyes creasing as he stares back at you, your fingers still laced together. "I like your costume, by the way." He laughs, looking down at your outfit.

You smile appreciatively, "I like yours... mooshroom cow?" You glance down at his red paints and painted shirt, crude mushrooms painted on. He nods and you giggle, smiling brightly at him. The outfit makes him look so adorable.

"George and Clay have gotten their first achievement." Jimmy announces, as he crosses off Getting Wood off the achievement list.

It startles you out of your thoughts and the two of you get your heads back into the game.

Karl drags you over to the forest. The two of you work together to take down your tree, opening the boxes made to look like oak blocks to find oak planks.

With the oak planks in hand, you two went over to the crafting bench near the inventory table. Chandler winked at Karl as he handed him sticks in return for two oak planks. The two of you then handed him three oak planks and two sticks for a wooden pickaxe.

"(Y/N) and Karl got their second achievement!" Jimmy announces as he crosses off Time to Mine! off the list.

You two high five, laughing loudly as Karl grips your shoulder, doubling over as he giggles at the ridiculousness of this game. Finally, Karl gestures to his back and you hop on, his arms wrap around your thighs as the two of you running over to the wall of stone.

With the pickaxe, the two of you were able to get two pieces of stone. You run back over to the trees to get more wood as Karl goes over to the crafting bench. Once you return, you trade the wood blocks for sticks.

"Tubbo and Tommy got their first achievement!" Jimmy announces, crossing off The Lie off the list. Of course the boys would first make a cake.

You and Karl trade the stone and the sticks for a hoe.

"(Y/N) and Karl got their third achievement!" Jimmy states, crossing off Time to Farm! off the list.

And so the game went off. Getting an Update crossed off by Sapnap and Wilbur, Acquire Hardware gotten by George and Dream, Hot Topic achieved by Bad and Alex, Time to Strike! done by Tommy and Tubbo, and Delicious Fish gained by you and Karl. By the end of it, you were slightly damp and panting, of course the fish were at the bottom of a kiddy pool which Karl decided to jump into.

At the end of the day, George and Clay won. The were showered in money from the money gun as the rest of the teams had to chant their names.

You and Karl had become awfully close after the four hour long challenge. The whole time you had a hand on each other, from giving each other piggyback rides (though you had failed miserably when you tried to carry him), to always having one hand laced together, to hugging tightly at every achievement gained.

Needless to say, you had gained one achievement you never thought you would... gaining a crush.

Jimmy finished off the video with George and Clay on his side going through his signing off spiel.

"That was so fun!" Bad said, clapping when the cameras stopped rolling. The studio was a mess of open boxes laying everywhere, haphazardly thrown by the teams and water gleamed on the floor around the kiddy pool, courtesy of yours truly.

You nodded, glancing over at Karl with a bright smile. "That was really fun!" You wrapped your arms around him in a side hug and he gladly returned the gesture. You couldn't help but giggle, burying your head into his chest.

"I'm starving!" Tubbo complained loudly, rubbing his stomach.

Tommy nodded, "Yes, the big man needs big nourishment!"

You giggled at him, Karl's chest rumbling as he laughed along with you. Jimmy smiled, "You're in luck, big man, the pizza just arrived."

You all cheered and walked into the small room designated for eating. One large table sat in the middle, 8 chairs lined up around it. There weren't enough chairs for all of you unfortunately. Clay and Nick choosing to sit on the floor near the chair George claimed. However, rather than let you sit on the floor to eat, Karl patted his lap. You graciously sat on his lap, munching on your slice of cheese pizza.

Nick and Clay whispered to each other as George conspicuously snapped pictures of the two of you. Karl's arms wrapped around your middle, using your lap as a table for his plate. You two were engaged in a whispered conversation, loud laughs coming from each of you every so often.

By the end of the night, you were exhausted and full. The british gang went back to their airbnb. As you, Clay, Nick, Bad, Quackity, and Jimmy lazily walked back to your cars, yawns coming from you every so often.

Karl and you walked to your car, his arm wrapped around your middle as you leaned your head on his shoulder, tired beyond your mind. Nick and Clay walked on your right side, talking about the day's challenge.

"So, uh, your love language is touch, right (Y/N)?" Nick asked you, not so subtly. Blush flares onto your cheeks and you laugh, shrugging slightly as you pick your head up to glance over at him.

"I would say so. I just appreciate it. Ya know?" You hum, putting your head back down onto Karl's shoulder.

Clay checks Nick's shoulder, winking at him.

"You know what sounds so fun right now, Nick?" Clay asks, mischief in his voice.

"I don't know, what sounds so fun right now, Clay?" Nick asks, giggling slightly.

"A sleepover!" He announces, pumping his fist in the air.

You gasp, nodding excitedly, suddenly not tired at all. "A sleepover sounds so fun! Right Karl?!" You look over at the brown eyed boy who seems as equally as excited as you.

"We could have a sleepover at my apartment!" You say, nodding at the three boys. "I have snacks and we could watch movies!"

Nick and Clay laugh, nodding.

"Wait, Jimmy drove me here." Karl says, looking over at Jimmy whose waiting by his car, scrolling through his phone bored.

"I'm sure (Y/N) can drive you!" Clay offers and you nod quickly.

Karl quickly agrees and lets Jimmy know the plan. The four of you were off on another adventure, Clay and Nick following you in their cars to your apartment which wasn't too far away.

The whole car ride there, you and Karl sang along to all the oldies, screaming like the crackheads you were. Your hand was always in his, only leaving it momentarily when you had to turn. The half an hour drive seemed like hours as you two cracked jokes and got to know each other.

The sleepover was spent in your living room, the four of you watching Disney movie after Disney movie and throwing popcorn at each other. You and Karl spent the the night wrapped up in each other's arms, cuddling under the shared blanket. Your butterflies only got stronger.

The next morning, Clay and Nick got plenty of shots of the two of you sleeping, cuddled up in each other's arms.

And suddenly you were added to a group chat named Operation Matchmaker with a whole album of pictures of the two of you from the challenge and the sleepover. Only then did you notice how Karl looked at you, a twinkle in his eyes as you looked at him in equal adoration. Pictures of you on his back, your head thrown back with your mouth open, laughing. You and Karl in the kidding pool, splashing water on each other. Finally, you and Karl asleep, wrapping up in each other's embrace, even your legs tangled together.

Who would've thought you would have gained the achievement being liked back.

[fallingappleshurt]

Fun in the chips and cracks

(I’m back at it again, this is poorly edited and dumb and based off the crap I did when I was younger. In this story Tommy is 10, Techno is 11, and Wilbur is 12,my eyes burn and I am definitely forgetting something but goodnight! Hope you enjoy it!)

Hope you like my brainrot, this story is so bad I wrote it in like an hou, the creator of this AU is the lovely @antarctic-bay go check her out! She’s great!

“I told you Tommy, it’s nothing that cool, it’s just the creek.” Techno said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah but that’s cause you’ve been there before!” Tommy said, turning around to face Techno. He started walking backwards while talking, bouncing excitedly.

They were headed to the forest close to their apartment complex, Techno and Wilbur knew it like the back of their hands, they’d go there constantly whether it was to goof around, or talk, or just for some alone time, sometimes they’d even do homework back there, if Phil would allowed it.

They crossed a mainroad, Techno trying to slow their pace to stall for Wilbur, who threatened to lock him in the hall closet if he took Tommy to the creek for the first time without him.

“Lets go!” Tommy said, grabbing his brother’s hand, trying to pull him along.

“That’s the wrong way Tommy and we gotta wait for Wilbur!” Techno said, pulling back.

“Why?” Tommy whined, “He’s so slow!”

“He’s not gonna see it that way, so just wait for a minute.”

“Fine.”

They waited for a few minutes when Techno spotted Wilbur full on sprinting down the street, he spotted them and started waving his hands frantically. Techno watched as his brother, yelling for them to wait up, he sighed.

“We should have just left without him,” he commented as Wilbur impatiently waited for traffic to clear so he could cross the street, he raced across the street. He caught up with his brothers, shoving Techno as he came to a stop.

“Hey!”

“That’s what you get for not waiting!” Wilbur teased, messing up his hair, Techno grumbled.

“Wilbur’s here now lets go!” Tommy said, pulling at Techno’s hand again.

“There’s no rush,” Wilbur said, throwing an arm around Techno’s shoulders, yanking him against his side, “Let’s just take it slow and enjoy the scenery.”

Tommy groaned, “Why are you guys so slow? You’re not even that old!” Wilbur cackled.

“I’m going without you guys if you don’t hurry up!” Then he turned and ran down the street.

“Tommy wait! We’re on a main road!” Wilbur let go of Techno and shot after his younger brother, Techno on his heels.

“Tommy!” Wilbur called, he finally caught up with him, grabbing his arm, “Don’t run off like that!”

“Then walk faster!” Tommy said simply.

“Then I’ll just hold you hand the whole time so you can’t run off, even in the creek.”

“I’m too old for that!”

“Then stay by me or Techno,”

“Fine.”

Techno, trying to lighten the mood, pointed towards the treeline across the street, “It’s right over there, let’s get going before it gets too late.”

Tommy perked up immediately at that, “Yeah! Let’s go!” They jogged across the street and into the woods, Techno recognized the terratin right away, “Creek’s this way,” He said, pointing through the trees. They walked between the gangly trees, Tommy stopping to poke at everything rock and tree stump along the way.

They cut through a small field of unkempt grass, it brushed across Techno’s knees. They reached another tree line, the soft trickle of water came closer.

“We’re here,” Wilbur said, turning to Tommy, “Wait for Techno to go down first, watch how he does it, then I’ll help you down.” Tommy nodded vigorously, bouncing on his heels. The ground dipped down suddenly, Techno took baby steps until he reached the fallen log, he sat down, turning around he slid off the edge, until he was hanging by his hands.

He let go, feet hitting the ground, stumbling back he regained his balance and waited for Tommy.

The boy started down, moving hesitantly, he sat at the edge of the log, kicking his feet.

“Just come jump down, I’ll catch you!” Techno reassured him, sticking his arms out.

“Promise?”

“Yes! Now just come-” Techno cut himself off as Tommy pushed himself off the edge. He jumped forwards, just barely catching him, Techno tripped and fell, landing on his back, Tommy on his chest.

“Got him,” Techno groaned.

“Are you okay?” Wilbur asked, coming down the log as Tommy stood up.

“That wasn’t so bad,” He grinned, Techno sat up, “Bruhhh.”

They baby stepped down another hill, avoiding an old tire and a rusty fireplace cover then they reached the creek.

“Which way do you want to go?” Wilbur asked Tommy. Tommy looked back at him, “Do you not know what’s either way?”

“I do but you get to pick,”

Tommy considered each option like his life depended on it, eventually he decided, “Right, let’s go right.”

Techno nodded, knowing what was down that way, “Good choice,”

Techno and Wilbur walked through the water, it was low enough for them to do so, while Tommy jumped from rock to rock, admiring the huge banks of the creek, roots jutting out from the dirt with little tunnels and rocks.

“What’s that on the dirt?” Tommy asked, pointing up ahead at a huge gray section of the bank.

“It’s clay,” Techno answered, “Most of the stuff up high is dried out but you can use the bits close to the water.”

“Awesome!” Tommy raced ahead, kneeling in the water, pulling at bits of the sticky material, “I’ve used this in art class!” He said, rolling some into a ball. Wilbur and Techno knelt down next to him, grabbing their little bits of clay, letting it get caked in their cutials.

Tommy rolled his clay into random shapes, dipping his fingers into the water and running it along the clay.

“Clay water is called silt,” He informed them, “You can’t let your clay get too dry or it’ll crack!” He slapped some water onto the clay wall, running his fingers on the grayish water, then he leaned over and smeared it on Wilbur’s cheek.

“Hey, you little shit!” He threw his clay at Tommy then Tommy jumped at Wilbur and then they were wrestling in a creek because of course they were. Wilbur was winning.

Techno watched in amusement as Wilbur put Tommy in a headlock. In a desperate attempt Tommy stuttered out through a giggle, “Techno doesn’t have any clay on him!”

Wilbur froze, “You’re right Tommy,” He let go of his youngest brother, “Get him!” Wilbur jumped at Techno, shoving him into the ground, rubbing clay against his face.

Techno shrieked, pushing back at Wilbur, laughing. Tommy jumped in on the fight, laughing along with them. Techno pushed Wilbur into the mud, the tips of his hair were wet and he could feel the clay on his face and knew it was on his clothes but he didn’t care.

He looked at Tommy, as he jumped on Wilbur who groaned in response, and grinned, he hadn’t seen either of his brothers this happy since they had to move, since their old apartment cost too much and Phil had to move, since their parents disappeared.

He forgot how nice their laughs sounded.

“Let’s keep going!” Tommy said, jumping to his feet. Techno stood up, sticking out a hand to Wilbur, who took it gladly. They continued forwards until they reached a small tunnel, you could see the other side easily. Tommy ran forwards into it, his laughs echoing into the woods, Techno and Wilbur followed at a slower pace, feeling the tunnel shake as a car drove over top.

Techno read the spray painted stories along the walls, he had read them before but he always liked to reread them. They reached the end only for the sky to rumble.

“We better head back,” Wilbur said, Tommy whined in response, “Don’t worry, we can come back another day, now let's go!” They walked back down the tunnel when the lightning cracked in the sky, Wilbur swore under his breath. When they reached the other side it started pouring rain.

They waded through the growing water level quickly, getting back to the log, they boosted Tommy up first, then Techno then they pulled Wilbur up.

“Let’s run!” Wilbur said, grabbing Tommy and Techno’s hand, together they raced across the field in the pouring rain. Techno slipped in the mud, taking his brothers down with him.

“I-I’m sorry! Are you guys oka-” He broke off as Wilbur snorted, pulling himself off the ground.

“It’s fine, we were already gross,” He pulled Tommy up and they set off again. They didn’t stop running, across streets and through parking lots until they reached their apartment complex. Wilbur pushed the door open and walked inside, slipping off his shoes.

Phil stared at them from the kitchen,looking them up and down, they were soaking wet and covered in mud, clay, and glass stains. Tommy grinned at him, Techno averted his eyes, and Wilbur rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Are you serious?”

[shaolin-spin-doctor]

Do you mind if I request some bonding/getting to know shenanigans between post dead Kung Lao, his kid and also Kung Jin.

IT'S OKAY, ANON... y'all know I love me some fluffy Kung Boys kontent

One of the first things Lao does to try and get to know his child and nephew better is inviting them to help with his crafts. He'll ask them to do small tasks for him first, gauging their proficiency, and then he'll offer to teach them whatever skill they seem to like the most - pottery? It's been a while since he last worked with clay, but he's more than happy to pick it up again. Wood carving? He's actually been thinking of engraving an Edenian-inspired design on that one log sitting in the back of his workshop. Metalwork? His absolute favorite, he wastes no time in getting his gear ready. The three of them spend hours working together, and both his kid and Jin's laughter and looks of joy make him feel like a child again.

Jin and Lao's child plan a city tour for the hat-wielding monk as a way to help him catch up with Earthrealm's culture. He's absolutely amazed by how much everything changed in 25 years; he loves how modern the trains are, the way the streets seem so vibrant and full of energy with their huge screens and neon signs, and the new bits of technology he can't quite comprehend just yet but is really excited to learn more about, among other countless things. He's on board with trying everything his fellow Kungs suggest, and he ends up getting hooked to street food and arcade machines as a result. And UFO catchers, courtesy of Jin. Whoops.

The three of them tell funny stories about themselves while taking a break from training. It is then when Lao learns the reason why both boys are so close to each other - they practically grew up together as brothers, and the similarities between them and he and Liu Kang make his chest warm with nostalgia. It's also a great excuse to reminisce about that one time he pranked Bo' Rai Cho by teleporting his canteen around and befuddled him so much he thought he was too drunk to teach that day's class. Jin snorts at the story while Lao's kid laughs heartily, and they ask the oldest Kung to teach them how he pulled it off if they inherited his powers.

[monstersandmaw]

Male changeling x female reader  - Part Three (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Wow, I’ve had Issues™ trying to post this tonight. Anyway, here is a late Sunday treat for you, after being up on my Patreon for a week on early release.

This is part three, in which we go to the Spring Equinox Festival in the little village of Iska's Well, and meet someone there that we were not expecting!

Contents: fluff, smut, a bit of feels/angst amid the smut, some more smut, and a sappy ending. Knotting, unprotected sex (fem. reader is on the Pill), and Dunnock's shape-shifting. Words: 5189

Previously: the reader took some time off work to go back to her father’s old cabin in the woods just outside of the tiny hamlet of Iska’s Well, where she rescued a monstrous creature - part bear, part wolf, part... fae - from a nasty trap, and realised that those ethereal blue eyes were the same shade as those of the little boy with whom she used to play in the woods there as a child...

Part One, Part Two

The equinox festival was just as Dunnock had said - the entirety of the little hamlet, plus the outlying farmsteads and houses, poured into the clearing between the trees, filling it with lively music and chatter. Someone had organised a hog roast, and there was a vegetarian stand too, while in another corner a couple of local cider and schnapps makers had set up stalls of their own. The mile or so walk along the road from the cabin had warmed you up since there as still a bit of a nip to the air, but the huge bonfire that was crackling merrily in the centre of the clearing provided a welcome source of heat and light, as well as a focus for the gathering.  

A small folk band had assembled on one side of the clearing and their lighthearted tunes drifted across the crackling fire towards you, drawing you in like a chant in a temple.  

You weren’t usually the type who just showed up at things like this on your own, but something about the event had seemed more inviting than usual, and the moment that Martha from the village store noticed your arrival, she bustled over and began to coo over you.  

“Oh, my dear, you look lovely!” Martha crooned, “I’m so glad you came. Let’s get you a drink and introduce you to some folks, alright?”

“Sure,” you smiled, amused by her genuine warmth and somewhat busybody nature. The only thing that was lacking was Dunnock. Of course, he couldn’t have attended something like this with so many people, and your heart weighed heavy in your chest at his absence. 

It became clear almost instantly that Martha was trying to set you up with someone’s nephew, much to the chagrin of both of you. However, the moment you both cottoned on, you grinned at each other and reached an unspoken agreement to get along just to get them to stop fussing.  

Robin, it turned out, was actually incredibly sweet, and not interested in the least bit in women, and you sat on a log together and spoke for almost an hour about his work as a potter. He had just begun to experiment with using the natural clay of the area to make his wares, slips, and glazes, and was selling both online and in the local shop. Interesting though it was, after a while you started to get a little chilly. Rubbing your arms, you had just amicably excused yourself and stood up with the intention of heading closer to the large fire in the centre of the gathering when a movement out of the corner of your eye snagged your attention away from quiet Robin and his talk of pottery.  

A tall, broad-shouldered man had just arrived and was apparently staring straight at you from across the leaping flames. Sparks whirled suddenly upwards into the sky as a fire-blanched log crumbled further into the heart of the blaze, and as they twisted wildly and glittered like white hot moths, you caught a flash of intense, supernatural blue on the far side.  

Your heart lurched and leapt in your chest and you instinctively turned your eyes upwards to look for the moon in the sky.  

A huge, pearlescent, completely full moon hung low over the trees, silvering the needles with its soft light and you gasped as you snapped your attention back to the young man. Dunnock’s words about only being able to shift on the full moon washed back into your mind and your jaw went slack as you stared at the stranger.  

Wearing a well-loved and much-patched, waxed fabric jacket in a nondescript shade of brown, he walked slowly around the stones of the fire pit, with hands shoved deep into his pockets and his gaze locked on your face. When he came to a halt in front of you, you stared openly at him.

“Dunnock?” you hissed and his full lips twitched, eyes twinkling. He had a short, dark beard that looked surprisingly well-cared for, and although his skin was weathered, it still carried all those myriad freckles you remembered from the little barefoot boy. “Is it really you?”

He blinked slowly - that telltale, slow, almost lazy movement giving him away as much as the colour of the eyes behind the long, thick lashes. “Surprised?” he asked in a husky baritone.  

“Uh, yeah?” you snorted, smacking him playfully on the chest with the back of your hand. “Look at you! Wow! And why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

His answering chuckle - low and deeply satisfied - set heat tingling between your legs and you bit your lower lip. His blue gaze shifted to your mouth as he replied, “I wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

“Well you did!” you laughed. “And wow, you… you grew up handsome!” You laughed and brushed your index finger fleetingly along his dark, close-cropped beard and added, “I like this.”

Before he could answer, Martha had reappeared at your elbow like an unwanted hummingbird and looking a little put out at the potential rival for your affections. She looked Dunnock up and down as if he were the town’s unwholesome rascal, and tutted softly. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” she said rather tartly.  

You looked from her to Dunnock and unthinkingly opened your mouth, “This is…”

“Dan,” he interrupted, extending a rough hand to her. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Martha,” she said and he quirked his lips a little and inclined his head. “You two know each other then?”

“Oh, we go way back,” you grinned, digging Dunnock in the ribs. His torso was invitingly solid beneath the softness of the jacket. “I just didn’t know he was going to be here tonight.”

The changeling was still grinning his lopsided smirk when Martha’s little gaggle of friends appeared to sweep her away like an unwelcome flock of cooing doves, and he tugged your arm and twitched his head towards the other side of the fire pit where there was a small dance space.

“Dance with me,” he murmured in your ear and you nodded, suddenly breathless as he slid his hands into yours.  

You weren’t the only ones moving softly to the folky music from the little group nearby, but everything faded to two pinpricks of blue in no time. It felt like the most natural thing in the world as Dunnock’s rough hand slid to your waist. He held you close and you inhaled the soft, mossy scent of him.  

For a long while, neither of you spoke, letting your bodies take over, pressing closer and closer with each step until you tilted your head to look up at him and saw an even brighter blue light burning in his gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered without breaking step. His grip twitched slightly and he blurted, “I want to kiss you…”

With a smile you slid your hand from his shoulder up to his neck and gently scrunched a fistful of the grey-brown hair at the nape of his neck in your fingers. He swallowed - growling audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, pupils widening, pulse thudding in his neck. Gently drawing him down to you, you kissed him.  

The soft groan he made as the two of you kissed kindled something warm, flickering, and a little fragile inside you again. He kissed you breathless until you drew back, laughing quietly. His hand had sunk to the very base of your spine, and he stared at you with slightly glassy eyes.  

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you again,” he admitted.  

“I didn’t know it was a full moon tonight, otherwise I might have stayed at the cabin instead of coming here.”

He twirled you softly beneath his outstretched arm, resuming the dance as if you’d never paused. “Then I wouldn’t have got to dance with you,” he said in a low, soft voice. Gods, but it was doing things to you that you hadn’t known your body wanted to do any more. It made you ache everywhere, inside and out until you weren’t sure you could bear it any longer.  

The warmth of his palms and the closeness of his body drew you even closer to him and you laid your cheek against his chest. “Would you still have… looked like this if you’d come to the cabin tonight?” you asked hesitantly.  

“Mn,” he hummed. “I wanted to show you, but I was… in two minds.”

Your head twitched up to look at him and you found a complicated expression on his handsome face. “Why?”

He rolled his big blue eyes and shook his head. “Can’t you guess? I look like… that for most of the month…”

“And you think I’d, what, regret you showing me this somehow?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”  

“Dunnock…?”

“Mmm?”

“Kiss me again?”

Unquestioningly, he did, and you poured as much of your heart into the gesture as you could, this time leaving him breathless and dazed instead. “Stop,” he growled playfully, “People are staring.”

“Let them.”

How long you danced and talked and shared food beneath the moon that night, you couldn’t have said, but it felt like hours. The moon rose fully and then began to dip towards the trees as midnight came and went.  

“You want to head back to the cabin?” Dunnock eventually asked as the pair of you sat on the log, fingers intertwined in his lap, thumbs tracing idle arcs over each other’s skin.  

For an answer, you stretched up and kissed him and he laughed quietly, though he returned the gesture with the same enthusiasm he’d had for it all night. With a nod, you slipped away through the trees with him. You could feel the eyes of a few of the remaining village folk boring into your retreating backs and figured you’d probably be the talk of the place for a while. Whatever. Let them gossip away.  

The pair of you had barely gone ten paces when he winced and grunted softly.  

“Dunnock?”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, catching your hand in his and squeezing fiercely. He stopped walking and drew you close to him with an easy tug, and then with a fervour that had apparently only been in the background before, he kissed you so hard you saw stars. Groaning behind the kiss, he backed you up against a tall pine and ran his hands along your jaw and into your hair, breathing hard.  

With a frenzied gasp, you tipped your head to one side and he began to leave nipping, rough kisses down the exposed skin, all teeth and tongue and desire.  

“I want you, Dunnock,” you found yourself moaning, rolling your hips against him and finding him more than half hard already.  

He bit off another grunt and buried his nose against your neck. “I want you too,” he snarled. “Gods, I want you…”

“Come on then,” you grinned, wriggling free and tugging him down the path through the pines towards the road.  

He walked beside you, holding your hand and protecting you from any oncoming traffic by placing himself between you and it, though you only passed one car on your whole walk back.  

The moment you stepped off the road and onto the gravel track that led to the cabin, he kissed you again.  

Tactile in a way that you’d only suspected until now, Dunnock was a sensitive and vocal lover. Soft, animalistic growls emanated from him from time to time, reminding you that he was not human despite his current appearance. When his eyes were closed, it was easy to forget that he was a changeling, a Fae, and that he spent much of his time in a form that was very much not-human.  

At the foot of the stairs to the cabin, he lost patience completely and picked you up, hoisting you up so that you had to hook your thighs around his hips while he held you. He backed you into the cabin door hard enough to drive the wind from your chest for a moment, and he began to growl and snarl softly as he kissed every inch of exposed skin that he could reach.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he chanted over and over as he worshipped you, setting your skin tingling with each kiss, each nip of his teeth, the scratch of his beard and the press of his fingers into the muscles and curves of your body.  

You were wet and shivering with want by the time you finally managed to convince him to put you down long enough to unlock the cabin door. In a rush punctuated with more kisses, the pair of you began to strip in the living area of the cabin. You only managed to get his shirt off before he was back, hands beneath your own top, lifting it up so that he could kiss down between your breasts before dropping down to kiss your bare stomach on his knees with obvious reverence.  

It took some work, but you finally convinced him to get back on his feet so you could finish undressing him, and you worked your fingers into the corded muscles of his back in encouragement. He threw his head back and let out a broken, shuddering moan; half howl and half snarl. None of the noises he made could have been mistaken for human in the slightest.  

“You like that?” you asked, raking your nails over his tanned back before shifting them to undo the old brass buckle of his worn leather belt and the button of his jeans.

“Mnph,” he grunted before surging forwards and tipping you carefully back onto the hearth rug. He loomed over you, biceps bunched as they bore his weight with easy grace while his hips ground against your body.  

“Clothes off,” you barked, cutting off roughly as he drew back the cup of your bra to lave his tongue around your hardening nipple before taking it between his teeth and sucking briefly. “Ah - Dunnock!” you grunted. The sound of his name seemed to penetrate the fog clouding his mind and he leaned back.  

“I…” he blinked slightly, still holding a perfect, unwavering plank above you. “I shouldn’t…” he faltered, panting. “We should…”

“We should keep going,” you encouraged emphatically, “But we need to take the rest of our clothes off first.”

“Are you sure?” he asked in a tiny voice, doubt flooding into his handsome features. “I’m not even human…”

“I know,” you smiled. “Dunnock, I want you.”

His blue eyes rolled closed and he lowered himself back down to lie atop you, his weight pressing you into the soft rug beneath as he breathed in the scent of your skin and hair for a moment.  

“Dunnock?”

He groaned again but didn’t move.  

“What is it?”

“My name,” he finally mumbled into your hair. “When you speak my name…”

“But it’s not your True Name,” you scoffed, remembering what he’d said about the Fae and the power of True Names. “Is it?”

“I have no other,” he said and you went perfectly still beneath him.  

“Tonight…” you began, casting your mind back, “When I introduced you to Martha… You stopped me speaking your name.”

“Mmm.”

“Dunnock…”

He shuddered almost violently and mouthed at your pulse point with his teeth, grinding his groin against you; claiming you.  

“Dunnock…” you whispered right against the shell of his ear and he let out another fractured, wounded noise. “Roll over…” you said, encouraging him to lie on his back so that you could finally finish undressing him.

He splayed out almost comically, arms outstretched, thighs slightly apart, chest rising and falling rapidly as his inhuman, lust-blown eyes tracked your every movement. Your fingers worked the still-open waistband of his jeans down and over his hips, and he helped a little by lifting himself up. His legs were lean and muscled, and as you skated your palms up his bare thighs, he shuddered and began to gasp and pant. His erection made an obvious tent in his boxers and you palmed it, feeling the hard heat of him, and he tipped his head back, exposing his throat, and keened.  

As his thighs began to tremble, you continued to palm him through the fabric of his boxers and he rocked his head from side to side under the delicious torment. Eventually he grunted your name and moved as if trying to take himself in his hand and do what you had only hinted at. Swatting his hand away, you relented and drew his black boxer-briefs off as well.

His erection sprang free, printing a bead of pre-come onto his abs and leaving a connecting line from his stomach to his cock. It twitched and you watched his balls clench a little under your gaze. “You’re beautiful, Dun,” you smiled.  

His answering reaction wasn’t quite what you’d expected, and his eyes turned sad.  

Hoping to distract him from his thoughts, you took his cock in your hand and ducked low to lick a long stripe from base to tip. He reared a little into the gesture and then fell back against the rug, head clonking on the floor as he collapsed. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck, that’s - ah - that’s so good…” he panted as you squeezed his cock and worked your hand up his shaft, your free hand cupping his balls and stroking them gently.  

When you thumbed through the pre-come that was beading profusely at the tip, he gave another broken grunt and his hips rose again, toes curling.

“You’re so sensitive,” you smiled.  

“I…” he began, but he cut off, cheeks flushing. The heat crept down his face, warmth spreading visibly all the way to his collarbones. He tried again. “I’ve never…”  

That made you pause. “You’ve never been with anyone?”

He shook his head, eyes closed.  

Heat roared inside you knowing that he trusted you enough to do this with you, and you redoubled your efforts to make this feel good for him.

It obviously worked because he slowly became a shivering, whimpering mess as you worked him, easing off when it got too much, and increasing the pressure when he started to relax again.  

“You’re going to kill me,” he rasped some time later. “Please… I can’t…” and he eased himself up onto one shaky elbow and looked at you with those searingly blue eyes. “Please…” he breathed.  

“You want me to make you come?” you asked. “Or do you want…” you bit your lip. You were on the pill, and clean, and if he hadn’t been with anyone, it should be safe enough… It wasn’t exactly safe sex, per se, but somehow you figured you could deal with anything else later. The risks were low enough. “Do you want to go further?”

Shyly, he nodded.  

“Which?”

“Further. I want you… it’s all I’ve been able to think about for days…”

“You’ve thought about me while getting off at night, have you?” you asked teasingly, suddenly imagining Dunnock as he was in his other form, huge and dark, with those big teeth and clawed hands, lying on his back in a bed of bracken with his big cock in his hand, moaning your name. You felt yourself grow wetter at the mere thought of it, lust coiling.  

Dunnock gasped again, but this time it wasn’t anything you’d done. He grunted softly in pain and grimaced, his stomach clenching.  

“Dunnock? You ok?”

“Mn,” he hummed, though he’d gone a shade or two paler. “Please…?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking a touch frantic.  

“Alright…” you smiled. “How do you want me?”  

He looked up at you and seemed a little lost for words.  

“You want me to ride you?” you asked coyly, trailing a fingertip up his thigh and sending him sprawling flat onto his back again. “Yes?”  

Dunnock nodded, cock twitching and drooling. “Yes…”

Straddling his hips, you dragged your wet heat over him and he arched into you, mouth opening. His canines were longer than you remembered them being, but you didn’t have time to think more on that as he adjusted his position beneath you and his tip slid inside you.  

He froze, but you instinctively rocked back against him, taking him deep inside you and he let out a long, low, keening howl that was anything but human.  

After pausing to let yourself adjust to taking his cock fully inside you at that intense angle, you rolled your hips a few times and his breath began to quicken, harsh and loud.  

“Oh gods,” he swore, writhing a little. “Oh gods… You feel so good. You’re so tight… so hot… I… oh gods… I can’t…”  

The way he filled you was delicious, enough to drive the air from your lungs with the perfection of each stroke, and you’d pitched forwards with your hands braced on his shoulders. Sweat glistened at the ‘v’ of his throat, and he was noticeably trembling all over. His skin was still paler than you recalled from earlier.  

“Dunnock?” you asked and he whimpered. Pausing your rhythm, you called his name again, but this time he didn’t respond. “Dunnock? Look at me?”

Reluctantly, he did and you found his eyes blazing even brighter. “I…” he struggled to talk suddenly and tears rimmed his eyes. “I think I’m going to shift…” he whispered. “I can feel it… I… Oh gods, no… I’m sorry…”

Tears spilled suddenly down his cheeks and disappeared into his thick, ash brown hair, and his hands moved to your hips with a fluttering hesitancy that reminded you of butterfly wings.  

“No…” he all but sobbed.  

“You need me to move?” you asked and he nodded.  

Drawing off him left you feeling empty, but your concern for Dunnock took precedent over anything else.  

He’d begun to spasm a little now and he pushed himself up onto all fours, cock somehow still flushed hard and drooling pre-come liberally onto the bare floorboards despite the pain evident in the rest of his body. “Don’t look,” he hissed, but the sound turned into a growl as his back rounded like an angry cat and thick, black hair began to ripple down his spine from the nape of his neck to his tail bone. “Please…” His voice distorted, becoming deeper and rougher as his body changed.  

There was nowhere for you to go while he shifted, but you looked away, and in only minute or so, it was over. “Dunnock?” you asked when the dull crack of shifting bones had faded and all that filled the room was the sound of his heavy breathing.  

“It’s over,” he said in a winded, dejected voice.  

There, still hunched over on all fours but much larger, was the Dunnock you had met in the forest: dark, rippling fur; large paws, claws; a slender, strong body; stocky hind legs and long forelimbs; a head somewhere between that of a wolf and a bear, with long canines and fierce blue eyes; and the soft, leaf-shaped ears of a deer.  

You had barely moved from where you’d rolled out of his way, but now you came back to him on your hands and knees and sat beside him. He turned his face away, ears pinned flat against his head, horrified.  

“Dunnock, look at me,” you said again.  

“No…” he snarled, voice a little deeper now,  but just as rough as before. “I… I should go.”

“Please don’t…” you blurted, reaching for his arm.  

He flinched away as your fingers touched his soft fur, but you refused to let go. Squeezing the solid band of muscle around his upper arm, you shook him gently. “Dunnock…” you repeated. “Nothing’s changed…”

In a flash, he whipped his head around to face you, eyes blazing, teeth bared. “Everything has changed,” he snarled; a vicious, volatile creature. “Look at me!”

“I am looking!” you fired back fiercely. “And I’m telling you that nothing has changed about the way I feel for you.”

At that, Dunnock went completely still. Unblinkingly, he stared at you, and then lowered one hip to the ground to sit, stunned, and continue staring at you.  

“Say something?” you half laughed, vaguely thinking about covering up now. Was it too late? Had the moment truly passed?  

“What do you want me to say?” he asked in a heartbreakingly broken whisper. “I wanted one night with you. And I couldn’t even have that…”

“Sun’s not up yet,” you smiled. “Though I’m assuming the moon has set?”

“Probably,” he said. “I don’t normally stay shifted for the whole night anyway. I thought… I thought I had more time…”  

An idea occurred to you and you shuffled a little closer. He watched you warily, but let you put your hands on his flank. You stroked gentle circles there, smiling as he involuntarily began to stretch that hind leg out under the invitation of your touch, taloned toes flexing. “Lie down again for me?” you asked and to your surprise, he complied.  

He didn’t take his intense eyes off you though.  

Splaying your fingers wide, you ran them the ‘wrong’ way up through the thick fur of his belly and chest, and he shuddered bodily, head rocking back again.  

Nothing’s changed, Dunnock,” you said again, and mounted his hips in a single smooth motion as if straddling a skittish horse. He was significantly larger like this, and his cock had retreated into what appeared to be a large sheath, covered with short, velvety black fur. As you rocked your hips over it, feeling it nudge luxuriantly against your wet, swollen clit, he let out another dark moan and whispered your name.  

“You… You don’t have to…” he began, but you cut him off with a second roll of your hips.  

“I want to,” you said fiercely, grabbing a fistful of the thick fur at his shoulders in each hand and tugging. “I want you, Dunnock.”

In response, he rocked his hips against you a little and his jaw slackened a touch to reveal the monstrous teeth behind his black lips. It didn’t take him long for his cock to slide free of the sheath, and you glanced down to see that it was thick, beautiful, flushed red, and drooling everywhere.  

To your surprise, a second later, he rose up and bowled you over onto your back to switch positions with you. “Is this alright?” he managed to gasp as he paused with his tip lined up with you, teasing you.  

“Yes!” you cried, spreading your legs wider in invitation. “Please, Dunnock, I need you.”

In his present form, he loomed over you, dark and hulking and nothing but muscle and teeth and fur and blazing blue eyes. He seated himself inside you in a single stroke that left you both winded and reeling.  

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed, bringing his muzzle down to your ear. His hot breath fanned out over your skin and down your neck, bringing goosebumps to life along your whole body, and sparking pleasure along your spine with the sheer size of him inside you like this.  

“Move, Dunnock,” you grunted, reaching for his ribs with your hands and scratching your nails along his skin.  

A series of tremors ran through him, though whether it was from your touch or the repeated use of his name, you couldn’t tell, but either way, he did start moving. Slowly at first, as though afraid of hurting you, he nudged his hips against yours, but when you hooked your legs up around his waist and drew yourself further onto his cock, he let out a deep, shuddering growl.  

His teeth clacked as his jaw worked, and a moment later he had opened his mouth and latched his maw gently around your neck. He was holding you in place with everything he had as he picked up the speed and force of his pace, pounding into you. Soon, each thrust had you seeing stars, and he seemed to be stretching you wider and wider each time. Drool slid down your neck from between his teeth and his rough tongue laved at your skin before he withdrew the sharp points of his teeth and reared up, catching you deep and making your back arch. The sensations were almost too much. A searing, white hot need was building, coiling, crescendoing inside you in a way you’d never experienced before.  

“I’m going to knot you…” he suddenly admitted, raising his head. The thought of that took you by surprise and then left you delighted at the idea. “Fuck… I…”

“Dunnock!” you gasped, snatching breaths between each powerful, mind-blankingly beautiful stroke. “I want you. I’m so close. Dunnock, I want all of you…”

And with that, you felt what had to be the knot at the base of his cock slide inside you. A second later, Dunnock came with a roar, hips flush to yours as he emptied himself into you. Over and over his hips almost spasmed, his powerful legs thrusting into you as deep as he could get, filling you, and as he came, so your own vision blanked out and you clenched around him.  

“Oh gods,” you heard him curse as you came, milking every drop from him. “Fuck… oh gods…” and the rest of his orgasm rammed into him. Every muscle was locked, rigid and trembling as the force of it ripped through him.  

It took a long time for his orgasm to fade, but when it did, he seemed to crumple, all the strength leaving his immensely powerful body in one go. He sagged forwards on top of you, barely taking his weight on his elbows as his spine bowed downwards and he lay on top of you, seated deep and breathing hard.  

Your hands traced patterns through his fur until he was finally able to withdraw some minutes later, the loss of his knot and cock leaving you almost devastatingly empty again. His release slid out of you, over your thighs and onto the floorboards. He whispered your name and you felt the power of it thrum through you.  

In answer, you breathed his own True Name back at him. “Dunnock…”

After that, he staggered to his feet and then easily picked you up, placing your exhausted body onto the bed in the corner. He joined you after a perfunctory clean, and the heat of his body as he nuzzled up beside you sent you drifting towards a blissful sleep. “Stay?” you managed to hiss. “Please? Don’t go back to the forest tonight.”

“Mm,” he replied, tucking you tightly against his side with a lethal-taloned paw and drawing the covers up over both of you. “I’ll stay.”

With the comforting pressure of his body cocooning yours and the weight of his arm slung over your waist, you let your body be finally claimed by sleep; memories of sparking embers and searing blue eyes swirling through your mind’s eye.  

“Dunnock,” you breathed one more time as you teetered on the fragile edge of waking and sleeping.  

“Mmm?”

“Dunnock.”

___

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[treechangeseachange]

The return

It’s coming up to 3 months since we returned to our block and it took us 8 weeks to slow down. On the weekend we slowed down we enjoyed the first official Friday night catch up with our neighbours as the full moon rose. On Saturday we went out for brunch. No sport on Sunday morning meant a sleep in. I played handball with my boys for the first time ever in my life. Lamb shanks slow cooked on the wood heater. We squeezed in a late Sunday afternoon fishing trip. It took us 8 weeks to find some calm. We had forgotten how to do normal. I haven’t written for this blog since um wow December?! My leisure time since then has been extremely limited and when it occurred I prioritised my mental wellbeing and sleep.

This journey has brought me to the edge of my psychological and physical limitations. I watched my husband do a terminator style non stop renovation while trying also to commence a rebuild. His promises to take time off over Christmas dwindled to 2 days. There was so much to do. I helped with whatever jobs I was able to and then focussed on the household and occasionally, our boys. Midway through January this year we realised trying to work on both the renovation and the rebuild was insanity. The local real-estate market was booming. Post COVID, Sydney city dwellers realised they could put in a few days in the city then work from their coastal holiday pad the rest of the week. We decided to get our investment property, come bushfire haven, onto the market before the summer ended. We mapped out each remaining job and the days required to accomplish them. We calculated selling time, settlement time and remaining bank balance. What were need to do’s and what were optional extras. If everything went to plan, we could pay to get some work done at the block and make it habitable enough to move into. It was an extreme test of time, energy and resources.

It worked. We listed by the end of February, sold in three weeks and settled five weeks after settlement. I write that all in one glib sentence. Of course all of that only happened with considerable focus and effort. Life for the boys was hectic. 99% of their toys were packed and moved into storage weeks before the house went on the market. As the house neared completion we stressed about them damaging something. When the house was on the market we stressed about them getting things dirty - the walls, the windows or the cupboards. I banished them from the bathroom, they had to brush teeth in the laundry and shower outside. Luckily it was warm and didn’t rain much in those few weeks! Anyone who has sold a house while living in it knows how painful open homes are. The logistics and effort of cleaning and styling, while working full time from home, scheduling everything between work appointments, getting the dog out of the way and the boys to school, nearly broke me. Thankfully the selling process was short, but we packed a lot of opens into that time and by the end of it all, I had become a shouty, grouchy mum and wife. It was also a real highlight to hit menopause and bring some phenomenal hormonal energy into the mix. Phew.

Before we packed up and left I was lucky enough to have a week away with the boys. My fully wired self hit Melbs and my family gave me refuge and forgave my intensity. We managed some fun and the change of scenery was a big relief. Husband, however, stayed behind to work on the temporary shed home. Holiday behind me, I returned to packup and clean and polish the house for the financial return of our lives. Literally.

Can you then imagine our triumphant and spectacular return to our block bathed in happiness and light? Um well perhaps instead picture this - we arrived exhausted to an unpowered, work in progress temporary residence in the middle of a mice plague and endured 200ml of heavy rain in four days leaving us surrounded by mud. Happy to catch the rain in our tank? I wish! The new tank leaked 8000L the week before we moved, and only our neighbour’s spare tank loan meant we had any water at all. But being so small, it overflowed and made even more mud. The heavy rain was so loud on the tin roof it frequently woke the kids in the night (who then woke us), mice ran across the floor, huntsmen spiders dropped from the ceiling. With nowhere really to unpack things, cooking became like the biggest ever memory game, which box were the bowls in? Where did I pack the cutlery? The rain delayed our solar power install so for 10 days we lived out of an esky and by torchlight. We both kept working full time, getting the boys to school, after school sport commitments and then husband kept building after he got home and into the night. After a week of stress and chaos we knew something had to give, fortunately husband could take time off work to focus on our build and family life.

Fast forward to now. The financial pressure of the summer has eased. The temporary living quarters are functional and steadily improving. We have a beautiful wood heater. Our off grid solar system is powering us even during these short winter days. I have more kitchen cupboards than ever before, plus a dishwasher! I have hung up my clothes in a full wardrobe for the first time in nearly four years. The boys each have clean new wardrobes. Their separate rooms are still being built so they are in what will be our room which is insulated and wall paneled. We can cope with an outside shower and toilet. My husband is a legend.

What’s it like actually being back? I confess I was nervous about my own and the boys emotions. Eldest son is extremely happy to be back. Youngest son has taken time to adjust but that has more been due to his fear of the dark. The noises of the bush are unfamiliar and there are no streetlights out here! There has only been one time where a prebushfire memory overwhelmed me. Every person’s bushfire experience and recovery is unique. Unlike many others we are fortunate have the opportunity to not have to build on the exact footprint of the old place and I think this is psychologically helpful. It’s not the same space, and with some trees dead and gone the landscape is altered, its a slightly different perspective. The boys are older now, so our lifestyle is different too. Slowly we are finding a new rhythm on our land. The boys are absolutely loving being back on their bikes on bush tracks.

I was excited to resume my morning walks, although maybe not as excited the dog! He’s happy to have his off-lead roam again. But the first week of walking I found tough, the burnt and recovering state forest I traverse didn’t bring me the joy it used to. In the heavily logged areas where only isolated saplings were left unlogged, they couldn’t survive the heat of the fire or they didn’t have community trees to share nutrients through their roots to support recovery. The undergrowth is now the canopy and is booming with all the extra sunlight but when I look at it, all I see is fire hazard. Then as the weeks went by, my view softened, I recognise the bush is healing like me. I am appreciating small wonders of nature. A spider’s web highlighted with morning dew or the fascination of new plants thriving. There are trees that have fully recovered, others seem to be doing well, and there is much green in the landscape to enjoy.

On my morning walk I also see which animals are about in the night from what they leave behind. There is at least one very busy wombat! We see wallabies reasonably often and last week one morning I found big roo prints in the clay right near our place. We hear a boobook owl calling most nights and more frogs chirping croaking from the gully than I ever remember. Which now makes sense, we definitely were in drought for some years prior to the fires and the creek has this year been running for months. Less exciting is hearing foxes at night, my son especially dislikes their eerie calls. In daytime the bird life is altered. We are down to one lyrebird, there used to be two with adjacent territories battling loudly with their extraordinary mimicry. But at least there is one, how a ground bird survived I can’t imagine. The yellow robins aren’t around us now, we have wrens in the cleared spaces and in the lush shrubs busy brown gerygones dart and chirp. A shrike thrush has made a nest in our bushfire remains pile, her song is piercing and wonderful. Rarely are the yellow crested black cockatoos here now. This past weekend we did see two circling wedge tailed eagles the silent assassins of the sky wheeling high over the gully with that phenomenal wingspan.

Surprisingly my greatest source of happiness in these first few months being back has come from the sky. Unobstructed by buildings, the sky feels bigger in the bush. I’m loving the late winter sunrises. My very favourite time is just after the sun has risen when the horizontal sun rays set tops of the trees bright orange. Those are magical minutes of golden tinged trees. The sunsets. The stars. The moon. the sky has been a revelation and a source of happiness. Maybe because I’m spending more time outside I notice it more. Seeing glittering stars through the steam of a hot outdoor shower makes the cold walk inside completely worth it!

Slowly I am regaining my sense of gratitude for this place. The quiet. The privilege of not seeing another house. Having no curtains and that not mattering. Not worrying about noise and neighbours. Lack of street lights at night.

All of a sudden things aren’t hectic and we are settling in. It still amazes me after 6 moves in 5 years how intense moving is and then how imperceptibly things transition to not being new anymore. Normalcy sneaks up on me every time. Clearly this isn’t really normal but we’re enjoying this new start in our old place.

[gigilalaka]

The Deage Troll Au. Update and Chapter 1

So, this was supposed to tell you all that want to read my still in progress deage au, that chapter 1 was out on my ao3 account. Well its not. I can’t get access to it on my pc and I’ve tried a couple of other methods as well. Now I’m just waiting for they guys and girls that run ao3 to find whats wrong. However I want people to at least read the first chapter so here it is. We will see what happends in the coming days but for now enjoy!

*for thought

‘for speak

Chapter 1 “ Good days gone bad”

Poppy looks out of one of her windows that she got installed barely 3 weeks ago, its soft rain that gos pit patter on them tonight and normaly she would hum to the soft sound but she can’t find the strengt nor heart to do it. Her mind is filled with worry and guilt over the small body thats currently sleeping in a small borrowed bed that Smidge had been so kind to give her. * What am I do to now?* the words keeps runing around her head as she hears a small whimper coming from the bed. She truns around to look at them and walks over with soft steps and just stops at bedside, the little thing looks like they are not haveing the best of dreams. She could not blame them, she bet shes haveing them tonight as well once she finally finds sleep herself.

She slowly stroke the little things face, tears silent runing out of both closed eyes. One out of lost another out worry the next out of fear. A small boyish voice filled with sadness and longing asking for the one person thats never going to be able to anwser back ‘ grandma, where are you?’ It breaks her heart just hearing it.

‘Oh Branch, I’m so so sorry. I should’t have brought that stupid flower to the bunker, we should’t have.’ she says as she looks at her boyfriend, now in a body of a 6 year old, his skin grey as dark ash, hair black as coal and a fearfull frown onpond his little sleeping face. It still amazed her how bad everything had gotten just within 5 days, and it all started when he asked her a favor of just getting some stuff from the deep forest. How she just wish she’d could stop her past self from taking that damn flower or just give it to the herbalist before she and Hickory went to visit him. Maybe then neither of them wouldn’t feel so bad like they do now.

‘I’m so so sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry’ she keeps saying, tears anew starts run out her eyes again, while her mind drifts back 5 days ago, where it all started.

‘So let me see if I get this right?’ Hickory begins while he helps his brother over a giant fallen log with a rope around him and Dickory, while said brother is cursing up and down and to the high heavens for gifting him with this damn body and how he wish he’d have moveing hair like the pops have. It would sure make this a lot faster! Poppy stops to look at the bounty hunter, the half open basked strapped on her and one on each bounty hunters backs moveing a little showing herbs, barks, flowers and berries, a small smile froming on her face when Hickory nearly let loose the rope thats currently the only thing thats keeping his brother from falling several feet down, again. The small yodleller looking at the other one with a glare. Dareing his little brother loose his grip again on the rope, or else theres going to be hell to pay.

‘Branch is missing or gone out of several herbs and a type of moss thats used for a variety of diffrent meds and skin tonics? And he ask you to get them for him while he fixses something down in the bunker thats gone badly out of whack?’ For the past 4 months, Hickory and Dickory has been residents of said bunker while they are here helping the pop trolls build up their villiage again. Its part of the deal they have with Delta on the amount of charity works they need to get done with the country trolls and for what they did Poppy and Branch. First they had to help fixing some the homes and buildings back in Lonesome Flats, before they were sent to what remaind of the Pop villiage to help fix things there as well. Though to be honest, untill more of the trees and plants recover some more, theres little they can fix. Many a troll are still living in the undergrund bunker the resident grump live and build up, till some of their home trees are ready to take them in again. Though said grump was getting a little antsy with all the other trolls hyper-go-lucky energy. And endless will to party hard and as loud as possible.

Both he and Dickory had been very supriesed and shocked on how one troll had build something this lagre by the age of 15, get it so well stocked and maintain all alone for well over a decade. It was not for nothing that the other pop trolls called him the most prepared troll of the Pop villiage. *Though to be honest, we should have figured that out with how he was so prepared for just about everything on the journey* Hickory thought while putting the rope in his basket, Dickory finally on safe ground. He’s very sure that if they meet another log like that again, his big bro is just gonna swallow his pride and ask the queen for a ride over instead. It was getting very tiring getting past these forsaken logs for the both of them.

‘Yep’ the queen say, the ‘p’ poping as she said it.’ The Ruby moss is the most improtent one along with the Silver Drop Rose. They are used for some very serious bruns tonics and blood loss meds that I think even the funk trolls have never seen. Branch said that even if we only get a few of each of them, it still be enough to treat several dozen patients, but it would really help him and the doctors to have a bundle or two of each instead. They only bloom for the brief period between these 2 weeks. The rainstrom season is coming soon and they are going to be washed away soon when the first storm hits. Oooh look some more Dede berries! Miss Flourens going to be so happy that we gotten some of them, they hard to find this time of the year. Now she wont have to worry so much about the flu season’ The berries looks nice where they are hanging from their bush, a rich maroon colour with what looks like a golden stripe going around the oval shaped fruit. Poppy takes out a few small clay jars to store them in from her basket. She notes that she’s running out of room to store things. She take out a book from the basket she’d taken with her in her hair, incase she found any other herbs she’s not sure about. One of the many useful gifts Branch have given her the past 2 years.

‘So why did you take us with you girly? You know how that boy of yours don’t like us very much’ Dickory asked, it was a bit of a understatment, Branch had been rageing mad at them when he found out the their lie. Had it not been for the fact that Poppy's other friends was holding him down, Dickory is very sure he and his bro would not be walking at all. Its a bit better now, but non of the yodeller brothers wants to overstep themself the frail peace they have right now. Though he still wounders what the less colour full troll meant with ‘ this is just like what happened almost 2 years ago!’. He did not like the sound of it, not at all.

‘Mostly to give you guys some breathing room really.’ Dickory gets back, the queen is still getting some of the last berries in the jar. Then give them to him for storage in his basket. ‘Also, I know for a fact that since your both bounty hunters you guys was the better choice to take on this little trip when it comes to protection. Which I know mister grumpy is not going argue against, beside I’d rather take you guy over the other one thats avaialble.’ * The less said about Creek the better off I am* Poppy thinks, not wanting to take that guru on this trip today, lately the purple troll was trying to get them alone very often and that scared her.

The three continue their journey, stoping every now and then for a breather or a brief lunch, when they come to a area that has the herbs they are looking for. Its not easy to get to them though. The roses blooms on a small cliff thats very close to a river that has some very sharp stones jutting out and the moss prefer to be on the ceilings in a cave that is home some nasty creeps and crawls that no sane troll would want crawling in their pants. However, when they took a break near a tree, they a get a glimps of a snow white petals that seems to shimer in the light behinde another tree and some bushes a little father ahead of them. Hickory and Dickory is not sure if it is safe to go there, but Poppy is insistent that they at least check it out.

They come onpond a small clearing with a pond near the middle of it, a single flower blooming from the north side of the pond. Its white as snow that shimer in the sun light, with what looks like golden, amethyst and royal coalbolt blue bands around the base of the pastals forming a lovely small pattern of rings together. Its shaped like a tulip, if a tulip had slightly longer pastals and curly torns that is. They can smell a faint hint of sweet yet lightly bitter smell coming for it.

‘Now what in blues hell is this? Poppy do you know what this flower is?’ Hickory ask as he looks at the plant. Its very nice to look at and would make a wounderfull gift to a loved one, but dose not go near it. Neither he nor Dickory knew if it was safe to go anywere near it. No doubt that something had to be wrong if only the flower was the only thing to bloom in that pond. He dose not get a anwser for a while, the queen busy with her herb book to see what they have stumblot onpond.

‘Thats very strange. Its not in the book.’ the pink troll say with a mumble. She looks at the two and ask ‘ are there any sticks or stones near bye that we can throw? We need to check that its not a pond lucker. Those things are rightout nasty to deal with and I rather like to keep my arms or legs intact.’ A shiver gos down her spine when she think what happened to the last party group that went out to gather stuff from the deepest part of the forest. From a 35 group to only 14 coming back, almost half of them missing limbs thanks only to dose things. Was it not for that 2 of them had realy good aim, more would have been lost.

‘I think a saw some over there by the river. Gimme a min’ Dickory say as he runs there to get some. When he comes back the three of them each choice a spot to hit, but noting happens. They to it a few more times, just to be sure but is just a normal pond. Relief settels in a bit, but they move slowly near the flower. Once they are near enough, Poppy takes a few minutes to look at it, than take out a pair of gloves, a sturdy looking glass jar and a small spade.

‘Don’t tell me your gonna take that flower with you?!’ Dickory almost shouts. ‘It can’t be safe if it is the only thing that living in this damn pond!’

‘I have to. This area is the closest to the villiage when it comes to get these types of herbs. The others can take weeks to go to and fro. Finding a plant that we know nothing about so close here, I have to take this to our herbalists to find out what it is. For all we know it might do more harm than good to this area’ Poppy anwser back, most of her focus on the plant, not knowing how true her words would become.

Once she got it in the jar, she looks at them and says ‘Its best we go now. We don’t need to be here any longer’ the hunters agree with both of them tur-

‘WAAAAAA’ a scream comes out of Branch traped yet again in another nightmare that he can’t wake up from, sending Poppy out of her thoughts and chair like a rocket crash and running to him. She hugs him while the trolling continue to scream his heart out, his fear clear as day, small fists hitting her chest every now and then. His not stoping and his sob aren’t getting better either.

*My poor poor Branch. Why do you have to suffer more of this?* rings in her head, well aware that her boyfriend haven’t had this kind of nightmare in a long time. It seems fate still wanted to give the troll some more grief. All she can do now is hold him tight, whisper sweet nothings and patt his back.

Slowly but surely Branch began to calm down, and slowly Poppy sings whatever her tried mind can come up with right now not careing if they fit with the song whats so ever.

Sweet baby mine don’t cry

The moons here to sing you a lullaby

And am here to sing with stars

Sweet baby mine don’t cry

We are all here to make you smile

She continues to sing as Branch slowly starts falling to a peacefull slumber, but Poppy know its not over yet. She lays him back to bed makeing sure not to wake him. Once she sure his going to sleep a bit more she drags herself to her own bed try to get some rest before Branch wakes with another scream.

[unsettlingshortstories]

The Boarded Window

Ambrose Bierce (1891)

In 1830, only a few miles away from what is now the great city of Cincinnati, lay an immense and almost unbroken forest. The whole region was sparsely settled by people of the frontier - restless souls who no sooner had hewn fairly habitable homes out of the wilderness and attained to that degree of prosperity which today we should call indigence, than, impelled by some mysterious impulse of their nature, they abandoned all and pushed farther westward, to encounter new perils and privations in the effort to regain the meagre comforts which they had voluntarily renounced. Many of them had already forsaken that region for the remoter settlements, but among those remaining was one who had been of those first arriving. He lived alone in a house of logs surrounded on all sides by the great forest, of whose gloom and silence he seemed a part, for no one had ever known him to smile nor speak a needless word. His simple wants were supplied by the sale or barter of skins of wild animals in the river town, for not a thing did he grow upon the land which, if needful, he might have claimed by right of undisturbed possession. There were evidences of "improvement" - a few acres of ground immediately about the house had once been cleared of its trees, the decayed stumps of which were half concealed by the new growth that had been suffered to repair the ravage wrought by the axe. Apparently the man's zeal for agriculture had burned with a failing flame, expiring in penitential ashes.

    The little log house, with its chimney of sticks, its roof of warping clapboards weighted with traversing poles and its "chinking" of clay, had a single door and, directly opposite, a window. The latter, however, was boarded up - nobody could remember a time when it was not. And none knew why it was so closed; certainly not because of the occupant's dislike of light and air, for on those rare occasions when a hunter had passed that lonely spot the recluse had commonly been seen sunning himself on his doorstep if heaven had provided sunshine for his need. I fancy there are few persons living today who ever knew the secret of that window, but I am one, as you shall see.

    The man's name was said to be Murlock. He was apparently seventy years old, actually about fifty. Something besides years had had a hand in his ageing. His hair and long, full beard were white, his grey, lustreless eyes sunken, his face singularly seamed with wrinkles which appeared to belong to two intersecting systems. In figure he was tall and spare, with a stoop of the shoulders - a burden bearer. I never saw him; these particulars I learned from my grandfather, from whom also I got the man's story when I was a lad. He had known him when living near by in that early day.

    One day Murlock was found in his cabin, dead. It was not a time and place for coroners and newspapers, and I suppose it was agreed that he had died from natural causes or I should have been told, and should remember. I know only that with what was probably a sense of the fitness of things the body was buried near the cabin, alongside the grave of his wife, who had preceded him by so many years that local tradition had retained hardly a hint of her existence. That closes the final chapter of this true story - excepting, indeed, the circumstance that many years afterward, in company with an equally intrepid spirit, I penetrated to the place and ventured near enough to the ruined cabin to throw a stone against it, and ran away to avoid the ghost which every well-informed boy thereabout knew haunted the spot. But there is an earlier chapter - that supplied by my grandfather.

    When Murlock built his cabin and began laying sturdily about with his axe to hew out a farm - the rifle, meanwhile, his means of support - he was young, strong and full of hope. In that eastern country whence he came he had married, as was the fashion, a young woman in all ways worthy of his honest devotion, who shared the dangers and privations of his lot with a willing spirit and light heart. There is no known record of her name; of her charms of mind and person tradition is silent and the doubter is at liberty to entertain his doubt; but God forbid that I should share it! Of their affection and happiness there is abundant assurance in every added day of the man's widowed life; for what but the magnetism of a blessed memory could have chained that venturesome spirit to a lot like that?

    One day Murlock returned from gunning in a distant part of the forest to find his wife prostrate with fever, and delirious. There was no physician within miles, no neighbour; nor was she in a condition to be left, to summon help. So he set about the task of nursing her back to health, but at the end of the third day she fell into unconsciousness arid so passed away, apparently, with never a gleam of returning reason.

    From what we know of a nature like his we may venture to sketch in some of the details of the outline picture drawn by my grandfather. When convinced that she was dead, Murlock had sense enough to remember that the dead must be prepared for burial. In performance of this sacred duty he blundered now and again, did certain things incorrectly, and others which he did correctly were done over and over. His occasional failures to accomplish some simple and ordinary act filled him with astonishment, like that of a drunken man who wonders at the suspension of familiar natural laws. He was surprised, too, that he did not weep - surprised and a little ashamed; surely it is unkind not to weep for the dead. "Tomorrow," he said aloud, "I shall have to make the coffin arid dig the grave; and then I shall miss her, when she is no longer in sight; but now - she is dead, of course, but it is all right - it must be all right, somehow. Things cannot be so bad as they seem."

    He stood over the body in the fading light, adjusting the hair and putting the finishing touches to the simple toilet, doing all mechanically, with soulless care. And still through his consciousness ran an undersense of conviction that all was right - that he should have her again as before, and everything explained. He had had no experience in grief; his capacity had not been enlarged by use. His heart could not contain it all, nor his imagination rightly conceive it. He did not know he was so hard struck; that knowledge would come later, and never go. Grief is an artist of powers as various as the instruments upon which he plays his dirges for the dead, evoking from some the sharpest, shrillest notes, from others the low, grave chords that throb recurrent like the slow beating of a distant drum. Some natures it startles; some it stupefies. To one it comes like the stroke of an arrow, stinging all the sensibilities to a keener life; to another as the blow of a bludgeon, which in crushing benumbs. We may conceive Murlock to have been that way affected, for (and here we are upon surer ground than that of conjecture) no sooner had he finished his pious work than, sinking into a chair by the side of the table upon which the body lay, and noting how white the profile showed in the deepening gloom, he laid his arms upon the table's edge, and dropped his face into them, tearless yet and unutterably weary. At that moment came in through the open window a long, wailing sound like the cry of a lost child in the far deeps of the darkening woods! But the man did not move. Again, and nearer than before, sounded that unearthly cry upon his failing sense. Perhaps it was a wild beast; perhaps it was a dream. For Murlock was asleep.

    Some hours later, as it afterward appeared, this unfaithful watcher awoke and lifting his head from his arms intently listened - he knew not why. There in the black darkness by the side of the dead, recalling all without a shock, he strained his eyes to see - he knew not what. His senses were all alert, his breath was suspended, his blood had stilled its tides as if to assist the silence. Who - what had waked him, and where was it?

    Suddenly the table shook beneath his arms, and at the same moment he heard, or fancied that he heard, a light, soft step - another - sounds as of bare feet upon the floor!

    He was terrified beyond the power to cry out or move. Perforce he waited - waited there in the darkness through seeming centuries of such dread as one may know, yet live to tell. He tried vainly to speak the dead woman's name, vainly to stretch forth his hand across the table to learn if she were there. His throat was powerless, his arms and hands were like lead. Then occurred something most frightful. Some heavy body seemed hurled against the table with an impetus that pushed it against his breast so sharply as nearly to overthrow him, and at the same instant he heard and felt the fall of something upon the floor with so violent a thump that the whole house was shaken by the impact. A scuffling ensued, and a confusion of sounds impossible to describe. Murlock had risen to his feet. Fear had by excess forfeited control of his faculties. He flung his hands upon the table. Nothing was there!

    There is a point at which terror may turn to madness; and madness incites to action. With no definite intent, from no motive but the wayward impulse of a madman, Murlock sprang to the wall, with a little groping seized his loaded rifle, and without aim discharged it. By the flash which lit up the room with a vivid illumination, he saw an enormous panther dragging the dead woman toward the window, its teeth fixed in her throat! Then there were darkness blacker than before, and silence; and when he returned to consciousness the sun was high and the wood vocal with songs of birds.

    The body lay near the window, where the beast had left it when frightened away by the flash and report of the rifle. The clothing was deranged, the long hair in disorder, the limbs lay anyhow. From the throat, dreadfully lacerated, had issued a pool of blood not yet entirely coagulated. The ribbon with which he had bound the wrists was broken; the hands were tightly clenched. Between the teeth was a fragment of the animal's ear.

[razorblade180]

Sunshower 8

A shower. A simple shower and a brief walk to the pond was all Ilia had left before the most awkward conversation in her life. No amount of White Fang training could prepare her for this. Expressing feelings weren’t something covered when training to be a spy. Maybe Neptune was right on the money about taking time to sort out her head before confronting the problem. A piece of her soul felt like it left Ilia’s body at the realization just how crazy that was to her. Neptune was right and she should’ve listened. He must never know. ‘Oh well. What’s done is done. Might as well appreciate the time I have before self destruction.’ She thought walking back to her house painfully slow.

Slow or not, eventually she found herself in the middle of the forest in front of an arrow sign pointed done with her initials on it. The ground underneath her feet was clear of any obstacles; just a perfect grass circle. Around her were tall, strong trees that shot straight in the sky with branches as thick as logs. One tree in particular had a branch that bent down lower than the rest and had small holes carved into the trunk. Ilia rested her hand on the sign and turned the arrow straight up. ‘Home sweet home at last. Well...mostly.’

Usually Ilia wouldn’t miss the chance to train her acrobatic skills but there was way too much on her mind to trust herself to not slip up. Instead off running up any trees or flipping from branch to branch, Ilia took the easy path and started climb up the tree with carved footholds in it. If Adam was ever good for anything it was his constant nagging about how houses in Menagerie should have at least two easy ways to get to. Multiple types of a faunus species might have to drop by for whatever reason and it would a real pain for a place to only be accessible by having a specific trait. Even a broken clock was right twice a day she supposed m.

Ilia reached a layed of dense foliage that was woven together with straw and covered the entire circle below; essentially blocking most of the sunlight from coming through. ‘Where is that stupid...ah ha!’ relieved to find the soft spot in layer, Ilia pushed her way through with easy and stood on the flooring. Infront of her was a giant hut. The roof was also made of a thick straw that allowed rain to run off it as it extended past the actual frame of the wooden house. Two windows were placed on each side of the door. Decorating the outside was always an idea she entertained but never did. The inside and the utilities was the more important part anyways.

The girl smiled when the gentle breeze from opening the door hit her face. To the left was a futon up against the wall with a silk blanket on the armrest and a rug on the ground in front of it. A small coffee table was a bit further away that held a tiger lily as the center piece. Up against the wall the door was on had a dusty entertainment center with a tv smack dab in the middle. Old movies were placed below it leaning against each other. The right side of the room had the floor made of harden clay since it was the kitchen. The only thing really in it was a wooden circular table in the middle, a fridge in the back that faced the direction of the living room, and from that ran a counter top that curved all the way back towards the door. It caved way into a sink a few feet from the fridge before being a counter again. Then was interrupted again by a basic stove with two burners up top that were about two feet out of reach from Ilia. Drawers held everything she needed underneath the countertop.

She’d be lying if she said wasn’t hungry but considering there’s someone waiting on her, bathing and thinking took priority. Ilia kicked off her shoes and moseyed straight down into the hallway and opened the bathroom door. Easily the smallest room she created for the soul purpose of allowing other rooms to be bigger. She was at the sink the moment she walked in. Passed it was the toilet and another few inches away was the tub that ran sideways. A sliding warped glass door was attached to it. The ceiling had an opening above it to vent out the steam she always made. Ilia found herself leaning against towards the full mirror on top the sink. Her hands curling against it and staring at her reflection in slight concern.

‘Geez I look this rough even after sleeping?’ The woman thought looking at how mess her hair was. Underneath her eyes were a bit dark but that’s the price of partying hard; even if she didn’t enjoy it. Well...most of it. She started looking at her hair tie before settling it down.

‘Last night really happened. It wasn’t a dream. I wonder how much Sun exactly remembers? How much do I remember?’ Soon her clothes fell to the floor as she continued to look in the mirror. The color of her skin slightly turning pink the more she recalled last night.

‘He...might remember seeing me, all of me. Is that good or bad? I remember all of him.’ That memory only helped to make her get pinker. “All of him...”

Her hands retreated from the sink and went to her hips. Bit by bit the entire picture was forming. Last night was getting vivid. She remembered the way he was looking at her; the way he held her. Ilia remember the way his fingers wrapped and pressed into her hips. The feeling was...new? No, that’s not quite the word. Foreign, it was foreign to her. Not to say that is was bad, just expected. Like everything else was last night was. The words they exchanged, the feelings behind them that accompanied tears and the embrace that came afterwards. Ilia wasn’t expecting any of that. It was nice. Sun was ni- “Agh! What does that mean!?!?” She shouted out loud before walking to the tub flustered and turning on the water. “A cool bath. A cool bath will calm me down. Everything will make sense when I calm down.” Water rushed out the faucet and filled the tub that gave another reflection to struggle with. This time she had noticed something she had overlooked the first time. A few spots on her chest weren’t spots at all. They were little bruises lightly peppered everywhere. She had forgotten her hips weren’t the only thing that got a fair amount of attention last night. She’d be flattered right now if she didn’t feel like she was about to die from her own memories. “Sigh, why is this the one time I remember everything!?”

xxxx

Sun:*texting* “Neptune! Aww you asleep yet!?”

Neptune: “We just saw each other...”

Sun: “I know, just have a question. What would you do in my situation? Follow up, what would happen if-”

Bzzz! Bzzz!

His phone lit up with a Neptune’s name in a face time. Sun immediately answered and saw his best friend with messy hair and laying in the hammock.

Neptune:.....

Sun:....Am I bugging you?

Neptune:No, just can’t believe this is happening. I’m usually the antsy one. Is this how you feel usually; calm and fine? I didn’t realize you had the best seat ever.

Sun:How do you deal with drama all the time!?

Neptune:Because I have you dude.

Sun:That was sweet and all but.....

Neptune:You are Sun Wukong. If you can handle being friends with Ilia after she stabbed you then you can handle a little awkward post sex conversation. I got your back but I don’t think you’ll need it.

Sun:Wow, thanks Neptune.

Neptune:No problem. Consider it me paying it forward. You were there with my major girl problem.

Sun:*eyes widened* Woah I didn’t think you would ever mention-

Neptune:Her name is still banned!

Sun:Should’ve guessed. Still proud of you.

Neptune:Yeah yeah, save that pride and turn it into confidence. It’s not like you’re on a time limit to think. Just don’t run into her and do something crazy.

Sun:About that....

Neptune:What did you....?

The embarrassed boy was about to answer before he looked across the lake to see the girl in question finally showing up. Her hair was still down and she wasn’t in her usual clothes. Ilia wore a plain white T-shirt and what looked to be gray track pants. Complete with black running shoes. Sun couldn’t tell if it was for comfort or a sign that this will end with her fleeing the scene. He was sitting on a pier that led to some pretty deep water after all.

Sun:I’ll call you later Neptune. Maybe.

Neptune:What does that mean!? Su- *disconnected*

Sun:*mumbles* Definitely going to be hearing about that later.

“Hearing about what later?” The voice said, catching him off gaurd. His tail perked up along with his swiveling head. He was surprised to see Ilia was standing a few inches behind him already. Was she faster than he realized or was he spacing out that much? Now wasn’t the time to think of it.

Sun:H..hey

Ilia:Hey *rubbing her arm*

........

Sun:Wanna have seat? If you know, you want to? Which ever is fine by me. Sitting or standin, hehehe not much of difference and stuff. *clears throat*

Ilia:*raises eye brow* Freaking out?

Sun:Oh you know. A little bit.

Ilia:Good. Means I’m not the only one. Today is....

Sun:Yeah, definitely. A real cluster of a lot of things.

Ilia:Exactly.

A few more minutes went by before Ilia finally chose between sitting or standing. Her feet inched up to the edge of the pier next to him. She thought about her choice one more time in her head before sitting down next to him; her legs dangling over the edge. The soles of her shoes grazed across the water’s sureface. Distorting the perfect image of the blue sky above. Ilia couldn’t bring herself to look at him directly but his reflection was manageable at least. What she saw was to be expected but surprising all at once. Sun wasn’t looking at her either. His tail was wrapped around his left wrist as he rubbed the tip.

Ilia:(I guess even the most social of people have their moments. Damn, really wanted to be the passive one here but looks like I’m going on offense.) Did, did I keep you waiting?

Sun:*turns around* Huh?

Ilia:Were you waiting here long? I kinda took my time bathing.

Sun:Oh, no it was fine. Too many things to think about to notice the time.

Ilia:Makes sense. There’s definitely a lot of things to think about. So.... wanna try thinking about them together? Two heads are better than one.

Sun:Sounds like a plan. Should we be facing each other then or-

Ilia:*red* back to back would be nice!

Sun:Oh......

Ilia: “Oh?” That not work for you?

Sun:It’s fine.

Ilia:Obviously it isn’t with you.

Sun:Yeah but face to face makes you uncomfortable apparently so I’ll deal.

Ilia:...... Well now I don’t want to do back to back at all.

Sun:*chuckles* Oh my god...

Ilia:What?

Sun:Does this really matter? I was just trying to make you feel comfortable.

Ilia:Well I’m trying to consider your feelings dummy. Someone has to validate them unlike you.

Sun:What’s that supposed to mean?

Ilia:You just tried pushing the way you feel to the wayside like you did last night!

Sun:What else was I supposed to do!? You were having a horrible time. Are you trying to tell me you would’ve listened if I wobbled up to you drunk and depressed.

Ilia:OF COURSE! We’re friends! I care about your feelings! *stares at him*

Sun:....

The two of them locked eyes quietly. Sun’s face inspects the rigid expression on Ilia’s face. He’s seen the girl be serious. He’s been on the serious end of her weapon after all. This was different though. Familiar.

Sun:I think Neptune is growing on you.

Ilia:What?

Sun:He’s always getting on me when it comes to things like this. Guess you really do care? *smiles*

Ilia:.....*looks away*

Sun:Ilia?

Ilia:Shut up. *turns red* we’ll just look at each other through the lake. Sound fair?

He stares down at the water and notices the girl every so often stealing glances at him before looking away again.

Sun:This works.

Ilia:Why was back to back even a problem for you?

Sun:Why is your hair down still?

Ilia:Where...where the hell did that come from?

Sun:Oh I thought we were asking obvious questions. Discussing important problems gets harder when you can’t see a person’s expressions. If you can’t see them then words feel less honest.

Ilia:Don’t trust my words?

Sun:I don’t trust mine. I...have a knack for saying things that don’t particularly go perfect with what I’m trying to get across. Earned a few slaps because of it.

Ilia:Ouch. Who’s bold enough to do that?

Sun:Not many but it happened enough times to know I should tread more lightly with sensitive topics.

Ilia:Fair enough. Well if it means anything, you’ve been doing pretty well so far. Not just today but with last night at the party too. Thanks.

Sun:I wouldn’t exactly thank me for last night. Are we finally gonna talk about how it ended?

Ilia:I’m still on why you think you my hair is still down.

Sun:Ilia...

Ilia:Fine, fine, where do we even start?

Sun:Do you regret it?

Ilia:Right into the deep end I see. Good as any place I suppose. It’s the only real question I had time to mull over. When I woke up I was extremely shocked about the entire thing. I didn’t remember much at first and I’m going to be honest with you. Everything felt really shitty.

Those words cut deeper than Sun expected. His hands joined together tightly. A slow exhale left his body as he nods and stares into the water. ‘Can’t blame her.’ Sun thought to himself before the touch of Ilia’s hand landed on his shoulder. The boy glanced at her reflection to see it was as calm as the water it was on,

Ilia:However, I’ve had the opportunity to take a nap and a bath since then. Last night was definitely confusing, weird, and probably the most vulnerable I’ve felt since fighting Blake. It was also the first time since then that I felt genuinely comforted; you did that Sun.

Sun:So, we’re okay then?

Ilia:Yeah. No regrets on this side of the pier. Just a really, really unexpected story to tell one day.

Sun:Phew! Thank the Gods! *falls back*

Ilia:I’ll take that as you have no regrets either?

Sun:Most of my worries came from thinking I hurt you in someway. I can deal with feeling a bit of weird or uncomfortable as long as you don’t hate me. No way I could live with this otherwise.

Ilia:You really put others before yourself don’t you?

Sun:I wouldn’t say that. If I can make someone’s life better then I try. Accidentally making more problems messes with me.

Ilia:(I can relate.)

Sun:Next question. Are we...gonna talk about this after this conversation?

Ilia:Not sure I follow.

Sun:We ever gonna bring this up in casual conversation or Is this our secret?

Ilia:Do you wanna tell people?

Sun:Not really, no. I don’t want to pretend like this never happened either.

Ilia:Pfft you make it sound like I was your-.......

Sun:Hmm? You ok? *sits up*

Ilia:*covers face*......

Sun:......

Sun:You remembered I told you that last night was my first time?

Ilia:*nods* I can understand if you wanna push me into the lake right now.

Sun:Eh. It’s no-

Ilia:Don’t say it’s no big deal. That’s a huge deal! You only get one of those.

Sun:Wasn’t it your first time too last night?

Ilia:With a guy! I’ve been with women bef- how have I been with more women than you!? That’s insane!

Sun:*shrugs* We ran in different circles I guess. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but you’re way more of chick magnet than Neptune.

Ilia:The girls here seem to be swarming around him like flies.

Sun:True. Doesn’t mean he’s slept with any of them. Neptune just gets a lot of dates.

Ilia:You’re lying....

Sun:Ask himself yourself at the party tonight.

Ilia:Wait, you’re partying again tonight?

Sun:Might as well. I was gonna skip it but didn’t really hangout with Blake last night for obvious reasons. I was hoping you’d back me up.

Ilia:Me?

Sun:Yeah you. Think of it as sort of a do over. I don’t mind the way yesterday ended but everything leading up to it was....a social disaster. *rubs head* Yang and I are on shaky ground. Eventually it’ll get back to Blake unless I can find a way to bury the hatchet. Who knows? Maybe things will blow over like this?

Ilia:Doesn’t Yang have a reputation for being aggressive?

Sun:All the more reason for you to have my back! Besides, don’t you wanna try putting your best foot forward in all this?

Ilia:Not really.

Sun:Wow...

Ilia:Did you forget I’m the one who had the mentality to brush off Belladonna problems and feelings for awhile? I think I’ll just stay home this time.

Sun:I can’t change your mind? You really want to stay home?

He was asking a lot of good questions. Anymore and Ilia might have to tell Judy that her detective promotion might get stolen. Staying home wasn’t the most exciting thing ever but faking fun was no better. Home had a bed though and no drama.

Ilia:Sorry, maybe tomorrow. I doubt this will be the only party. Let me know how it goes though okay? If they ask about me then just tell them I party too hard yesterday. Too much excitement.

Sun:Ummm out of curiosity, is that last part a lie or the truth? *blushing*

Ilia:Ummmm that’s uh. That’s definitely a question isn’t it?

Sun:*winces* F..forget I asked.

Ilia:Listen-

Sun:I get it. Definitely weird to ask. I was curious but we can leave that one alone.

Ilia:There’s just a bunch of layers to that. That entire moment is pretty jumbled. Peak performance was something neither of us were at. Not to say that you were underperforming! No you were...I thought.....sex was.... I don’t want to ask for an out, but could you kindly give me one? I’m digging myself a hole.

Sun:Hmmm. Don’t you have to go back home and rest up? I’m pretty sure you told me you needed strength for partying tonight. *smirking*

Ilia:That’s cheating! I don’t want that shovel!

Sun:I’m not saying you have to go to Blake’s house. Enjoy other things. Hangout with Neptune. He thinks you’re cool. After I’m done with my business then the three of us can hang. No drama, no weird conversations,just the three of enjoying the festivities.

Ilia:Persuasive, aren’t you?

Sun:So are you when you’re drunk and I can’t believe that just came out my mouth; was that too soon?

Ilia:Considering it’s been like ten minutes? Yeah it is, but I walked into that one. *crosses arms* I will party for three hours at most and this time there’s no drinks. Deal?

Sun:I can work with that. See you tonight then?

Ilia:I’ll be on the beach the moment three hours are up I’m gone, so you better make nice with Yang fast.

Sun:Please, making friends is practically my secret semblance.

Sun hit his chest before smiling proudly. Ilia couldn’t help but cringe a little at the remark but at the same time wondered if that was possible. The charisma around him did seem to be a bit infectious. Blake and Neptune adoring the boy was proof enough that he can find interests with people on opposite ends of the social spectrum. Ghira was the only one who seemed impervious to it but what dad isn’t wary of charming boys talking to their daughter? Especially in Blake’s case.

As much as she stressed over the talk, it was over in a fraction of the time she expected. Yeah there was a lot of things that could’ve been discussed further but not as important as what they went over. There’s time for that later. Right now she running on fumes and Sun had already got up and started to walk away. Yet there was one thing that gnawed at her thoughts a little as she sat alone. A thing that flustered her because of his idiotic question. Ilia was his first and he was fine with that happening, but was she herself actually good!? He hadn’t once commented on her performance. Ilia wasn’t sure if she actually wanted the answer. All she knew was she was tired of turning pink.

Part 7

[chicgeekgirl89]

Mercy is Out of Your Reach: Chap. 4

Fandom: SEAL Team:

Characters: Sonny Quinn, Clay Spenser, Lisa Davis, Jason Hayes, and the rest of the team

Read Chapters 1-3 Here

                                      XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“You need to take a break.”

Lisa ignored Mandy, clicking away as her eyes swept back and forth across the screen, desperately looking for clues. 

“Lisa!” 

Apparently Mandy wasn’t going to leave her alone. “I’m fine,” she said, rubbing a hand across her burning and blurry eyes.

“No, you’re not.” Mandy crossed her arms over her chest. “You haven’t slept in days. This isn’t helpful, it’s destructive to your health. You need to get something to eat and some sleep and try again in six hours.”

“I just had something to eat.”

“Sleep then. Lisa come on.”

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t leave them. Clay and Sonny were out there alone, probably being tortured as they spoke; or worse. She had to find them and bring them home.

A hand on her shoulder made her jerk so violently she felt her neck pop. “Whoa hey! It’s just me,” Ray said. “Come on.”

“I can’t—“

“Yes you can. Come on. Blackburn and Mandy are on it. You need a break.”

“Sonny and Clay aren’t getting a break!” She knew it was a ridiculous statement, but she was so exhausted and broken hearted and desperate and all she could think about was the horrible things that might be happening to them.

Ray looked at her and held out his hand. Defeated she took it, letting him pull her to her feet and walk her to the mess. “I just ate,” she said as he put a plate in front of her.

“A protein bar three hours ago doesn’t count as eating.” He nodded toward the food. “Go on now.”

She took a couple bites, her stomach in knots. “Why can’t I find them?” she finally asked.

“Davis this is not on you, all right? The whole team is working together on this—“

“Then why don’t we know where they are?” She could feel hot tears rising up and tried to blink them away. “Why haven’t we found a single shred of evidence that points us in their direction?”

“I don’t know. But we will find them. We’ve never left anyone behind before, we’re not doing it this time either.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to hold onto the thin, thread of hope he was offering. But without anything else to tie it to it was just that: a useless, dangling thread.

“Do you think—” She swallowed hard, struggling to get the words out, but needing to know the answer. “Are they—?“

“Sonny and Clay know what they’re doing. They’ll keep each other safe,” Ray said firmly.

Lisa bit back her automatic response which had to do with how every, single one of these stupid men thought they were invincible. They could all bleed and she’d seen it happen one too many times to believe they were going to find Sonny and Clay completely unscathed.

“Now, you need to go get some sleep. Six hours. If any of us see you back in there before then we’re going to send you right back to bed, understood?” Ray said.

She was tempted to ask what exactly made him think he could boss an officer around, but sitting here had made her realize just how exhausted she was. Her body felt heavy with fatigue, even though her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. As much as she wanted to stay and help, she needed to sleep.

Ray walked her to her door, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder before he left. Lisa didn’t even bother taking off her clothes, falling directly into her bunk where she curled up into a ball, finally letting the tears flow. All she wanted was Clay and Sonny home and safe. 

She rolled onto her side, wrapping her arms around her pillow as she tried to keep full on sobs from erupting. She knew she’d been distant lately, that she’d pulled back from the team. She’d told herself so many times that it was the only way for things to move forward. For her to move on from Sonny. But now…now she regretted every phone call she’d ignored, every time she’d spotted him at a distance and pretended not to. Why couldn’t she have just let things go back to the way they had been? Why had she spent so much time trying to prove to him that she didn’t need him? That she was better off without him?

All of this should have kept her wide awake, but between the physical exhaustion of having been up for too many hours and the emotional weight of fear and guilt, sleep claimed her quickly.

She was following someone through the streets. Someone small, a child. No, a teenager walking ahead of her. Lisa couldn’t see the teen’s face and she didn’t know where they were going, but she knew she had to keep following. It was important. It was important because…someone needed help. Someone needed her help and this teenager…this girl. It was a girl.

Lisa sat bolt upright, the last image of her dream still burned into her brain. A glance at the clock told her it had only been two hours, not the six Ray had demanded, but that didn’t matter.

“Davis, you’re supposed to be asleep,” Eric said when she burst through the door.

She didn’t bother reminding him that he hadn’t slept in about three days. She logged on and pulled up the surveillance footage the guys had stolen from the shop. She fast forwarded slowly, stopping and starting until…“There!”

She pointed a finger at the screen. Blackburn and Mandy both squinted. “What are we looking at?” Mandy asked.

“That girl,” Lisa said. “I have watched every second of footage on this tape. It’s about a week’s worth and she comes to the café every, single day around one o’clock.” She looked at her team members in desperation. “I just feel like she’s the key somehow.”

Mandy’s eyes went wide and she shuffled a stack of papers until she found the one she was looking for. “Farhad has a thing for tea. He has it flown in from all over the world. But a big part of the reason he’s here is because this café brews a particular blend that’s his favorite.”

“He’s sending an errand girl to get his daily Starbucks?” Blackburn asked. “How sure are you? I don’t want to tell the guys unless this is concrete.”

Mandy shrugged. “He’s used children for work in the past. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s using one again.”

Blackburn looked unconvinced. They all wanted something, anything to go on, but it was definitely a reach. “It’s all we’ve got,” Lisa said finally.

He nodded. “Then I’ll call the team.”

                                XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They were following a little girl. Literally following a child, hoping that somehow, magically, she was the key to finding their teammates. “This is the dumbest thing we have ever done,” Jason growled to no one in particular.

“You don’t want to do it, we can head back,” Ray said. “You don’t think it’s worth our time…”

But it had been days and this was the only lead they had. And it showed how desperate they were that they were even entertaining the idea in the first place. Jason shook his head. “Let’s just try not to get caught.”

Only he and Ray had come out, opting to observe and follow quietly to cause less of a ruckus. Sure enough the girl had shown up at the café right at one o’clock, just like she had every day in the tape. Now they were following her through the village while she carried a paper sack in one hand. She wasn’t in a hurry, didn’t seem in a rush to get to her destination and it was driving Jason crazy.

“We’re wasting time,” Jason muttered as they turned around yet another corner on yet another street that looked exactly the same as all the rest.

“I’m only going to say this one more time, if you want to go back—“

“No. Let’s keep going. Better than sitting around doing nothing.”

“Well then stop whining about it like Sonny.”

The jab slammed hard in his gut. This might be a waste of time, but Ray was right; it was better than doing nothing. And if it got them closer to getting their boys back, it was worth it.

The girl took another turn but this time she headed out of town. Jason and Ray were relegated to sneaking along behind trees and boulders. If it had been anyone older or more seasoned they would have been caught, but luck was on their side today. 

Ray spotted the building first, catching Jason’s arm and pulling him behind an outcropping of rocks. “Anybody doing lookout duty’s gonna spot us,” he said quietly. “Let’s go up.”

They scaled the cliffside, staying low to the ground, doing their best to stay out of sight. They reached the top just in time to see the girl disappear inside. “Well at least we know where she’s going now,” Ray said, still slightly out of breath from their climb.

“Yeah but how the hell do we know if Sonny and Clay are inside?” Jason asked.

Ray pulled out his binoculars and took a good, long look. “I don’t know brother. No windows. No way to get eyes in there. It’s like a fortress.”

Jason worked his jaw. “Then we have to take the girl.”

Ray looked taken aback. “You’re not seriously suggesting we kidnap a child?”

“That is exactly what I’m suggesting.”

“Jason we cannot kidnap that girl.” Ray’s voice was low and dangerous.

Jason felt heat rising in his chest. He didn’t like it either. Hated the idea. But he’d done worse. And he would do a lot worse again to save his brothers. “You got another option? Sonny and Clay could be in there. They could be getting tortured, hell they could be dead. You really want to give them up because taking a kid makes everybody uncomfortable?” 

“Maybe we don’t have to take her. She’s just a kid. Maybe…maybe we can just talk to her.”

“Soon as we approach her she’s going to sound the alarm. Two men alone? She’s not going to come quietly.”

“Just…let me try.”

Jason stared at him, torn between trusting his number two and just barreling ahead as fast and hard as he could to get Sonny and Clay back. “You get one shot. If it doesn’t work, we’re taking her.”

An hour later they were tailing the girl back into town. “One try,” Jason reminded him as they reached the outskirts.

Ray nodded and touched his comm. “Okay, let’s roll.”

Cerberus came bounding out from between the buildings, running right up to the girl and dropping a ball in front of her, tail wagging like he was a common puppy rather than a deadly attack dog. The girl stopped short, startled at first and then, as Cerberus continued to nudge playfully at her skirt, she reached to pick up the ball. 

Jason and Ray watched as she gave it a short toss. Cerberus bounded away and then returned quickly, dropping it directly at her feet. “Good boy,” Jason breathed.

They let the scene play out a few minutes longer, letting the girl relax and grow more comfortable. Ray looked to Jason who nodded. “Bravo Five, you’re on.”

“Cerberus!” Brock came out from behind a building and gave a sharp whistle. The dog ran over dropping the now slimy ball at his handler’s feet. “There you are! What have I told you about running off?”

The girl had stepped back, cautious now at the appearance of a stranger. Brock flashed her a smile. For such a quiet guy he could be incredibly charming when he turned it on. “Hi. Thanks for finding my dog.”

“You’re American?” The girl’s English was accented but easily understandable.

“I am. My name’s Brock. What’s yours?”

“Amira.”

“Nice to meet you Amira. This is Cerberus. Do you like dogs?”

“I like all animals.”

“Me too!”

“Get to the point Brock,” Jason muttered as the pleasantries continued.

“He’ll do it,” Ray said. 

It was another ten agonizing minutes of Brock breaking down the girl’s defenses with conversation and kindness. “Hey, maybe you could help me,” he finally said. “I had some American friends come through here earlier this week but I haven’t heard from them. You haven’t seen them around have you?”

The girl’s face immediately grew wary. “No.”

“Are you sure? One’s real big. The other one has blond hair. I just want to make sure they’re okay.” Cerberus nudged the girl’s leg, letting her pet his head. “I—“

“You won’t be in trouble,” Brock said. “I promise. Here.”

He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket, more money than the girl had probably seen in her entire life. “Please.”

She tentatively reached for the money. “I have seen them. The big one is very sick.”

Alive. They were alive. A mixture of worry and relief twisted inside Jason’s gut and he tried to force it away. The information didn’t mean anything if they couldn’t get to their friends.

“Where Amira? Where did you see them?”

Her voice was hardly more than a shaky whisper. “The bad man. He took them. Outside of town. I bring the bad man his tea. And he makes me take them food and water.”

“How many men Amira? How many are inside?”

“I don’t know. Many.”

Brock’s eyes were full of sympathy. “Do they hurt you?”

She quickly shook her head. “But they say they will. If I do not help them. Can you…can you make them leave?”

“I can try.”

She nodded. “I hope you find your friends.”

Brock clipped on Cerberus’ lead. “Me too.”

Jason and Ray waited only until Amira was out of sight before coming out of hiding and joining Brock. The group of them hustled back to the truck where Metal and Trent were waiting, already in full tactical gear. “It’s not a lot,” Ray said, pulling on his vest.

“It’s more than we had an hour ago,” Jason said.

“Good thing we brought the big guns,” Metal said, flicking off the safety.

For the first time in days Jason allowed himself a smile. “Good thing.”

[turdblossommm]

Marry Me {8}

Summary: Bucky and the reader are hopelessly in love with their best friends who are getting married, where the pair first meet. Will there friendship turn into something more or will it crash and burn?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/N: Hello *rises from the grave* I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a hot minute, but you know shit happens and life kinda sucks. But I’m back and I’m going to try and be consistent.

part seven // masterlist

Bucky wasn’t an early riser so getting up before the sun was completely unheard of, and then being thrown in clothes that were just a little too snug really irritated him. You laughed as he grumbled into the coffee from the thermos. You passed a breakfast sandwich to tame the beast who got a little to hangry sometimes

“Okay everyone you know the drill, we walk North and shoot North in our specific quadrants” You shoved the map in Bucky’s day pack and nodded with the rest of your family. “We never shoot South okay?” Everyone nodded once again, this was a completion for all of you but being safe was the most important part

“Come on Buck, we got a Tom to kill” Bucky followed you through the tree to a blind that was ‘home base’. Bucky watched in complete wonder as you silently walked through the woods without snapping a single twig while he stepped on every possible twig.

“Blind C is occupied find somewhere else fuckers” Bucky rolled his eyes at you as you spoke into the radio

“You’re so going to lose” Your cousin Clay’s voice cracked over the radio

“No Tom has ever been killed out of quadrant C” Braxton scoffed

“Then you have nothing to worry about” Bucky chuckled at the mischief in your voice

“So what’s the plan? How do we do this?” Bucky asked

“First we whisper” You raise an eyebrow “We call them in and then we’ll get out and look for them” He watched you ‘call them in’ with some sort of wood that rubbed together and it made a turkey sound

“Why do you guys do this?” Bucky whispered as he carefully stepped over a fallen log

“It was something my grandfather always did with us, he worked on railroads and he was always away but he always managed to get home for Thanksgiving” You quietly slid down the small hill

“And now it’s a competition?” He chuckled 

“Yeah were scattered all around, half my cousins live in Minnesota the other half in Ontario, even Braxton lives in Montana. Thanksgiving is the only time we all see each other and this competition is the only thing we all have in common” You smile “And there’s always a fight for the turkey legs so this was one way to settle it”

“Turkey leg?” YOu nodded

“This family has thrown hands over a turkey leg, hence why the winner gets them” You explained to him as you two moved through thick timber towards an open field.

“That’s a little far for a turkey leg” You shrugged as you crouched down and called again

“We’re degenerates from up country, it’s in our nature” Bucky followed your actions and watched the field for any movement. After two hours Bucky was bored, you made him leave his phone and he was so bored he could cry.

Bucky looked over to you to see if you were dying of boredom too, but you were everything but that. Bucky felt a small smile on his face grow as he saw the fire in your eyes, he only saw that in the few glimpses he caught of you working in the lab with Tony. Bucky saw the constant tension you held in your shoulders was gone.

Seeing you with no makeup, clad in full camoflaudge with the lower half of your face conceded by a mask to keep warm. You have never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment, this is the real you, crass and sarcastic with a side of sweetness that was rationed carefully by you.

You caught movement in your eye and saw Bucky reaching for your face, you looked over and met his ocean eyes, filled with warmness. You leaned into his face as it graced your face, you closed your eyes and basked in the warmth from his hand. You gelt him pulled the velcro holding your mask up, it fell to your lap taking it’s warmth with it. He pulled your face closer and you met him half way.

When his lips met yours you were confused, you two didn’t kiss unless something else was to follow. You had kissed Bucky many times but this time was different, you two were about to have sex this was just a kiss he wanted which scared you. He can’t fall in love with you, that’s part of the rules. This kiss is uncharted territory for you two and you were scared and confused

But you also liked it and you never wanted him to stop kissing you like this. He kissed you in a way you haven’t been kissed like in a long time. They way he held your face was so careful and his lips were gentle. Despite all the times you’ve seen each other naked this is the most intimate you’ve ever been with him. You felt him pulled away and you almost groaned as his heat was replace with the cold 

“Holy shit Y/N look!” Bucky whispered and you wiped your head around and saw a massive Tom standing in the middle of the field. You grabbed Bucky’s shot gun and shoved it in his hands and he brought it up and peered down the barrel

“Breath” You whispered and placed your hand on his shoulder “Remember squeeze the trigger, not pull” Bucky lined the scope up with the turkey and closed his eyes before squeezing the trigger. Bucky’s ears rang as he watched the turkey drop

“I did it?” You smiled and spoke in the radio

“Dinner is served mother fuckers” You laughed and Bucky smiled “Are you okay?” You asked and he nodded

“I’m fine”

“If you want to cry that’s fine, I did too when I killed my first animal”

“Was it a turkey?” You shook your head as you wiped the small tear on his cheek

“It was a 600 pound elk and that was a bitch to pack out, luckily its just a bird”

“Why are you so cool?” Bucky sniffed and you threw your head back and laughed

“I’m not cool Buck” You grabbed his hand and pulled him up “Now carry your turkey” You gave Bucky the general idea of plucking a bird on your walk back to the raptor. You smiled as you pulled up and all your family had made it back to the ranch

“Come on Y/N!” Claire, your cousin yelled “Let someone else get it next year”

“Yeah you can’t have it five years in a row now” Ben huffed

“Actually Bucky killed it” You smirked at your family and Bucky’s cheeks warmed as all eyes turned on him 

“W-well she called it in” He rubbed his next

“Well you better clean it before it get sour” You dad smiled and clapped Bucky on the shoulder

Bucky smiled as the sunlight streamed in through the cracks of the barn, he loved the way they rested on your bare skin. He lightly ran his fingers over the soft skin on your back as your sighed in contentment. He pressed a kiss behind your ear and you rolled to meet his blue eyes

“Morning” You smiled and hurried your face in his chest

“Good morning” You sat up and he pulled you back down

“Not yet” 

“Bucky” You giggled “We have to cook breakfast, it’s our turn” Once you coerced Bucky out of bed and dragged him to the house to make breakfast, Bucky watched because you know the possibilities of the house burning down would be high if Bucky came near a burner. The rest of the day was spent helping your mother cook with your uncles and cousins played a game of football

“Buck get your ass out here” Braxton yelled from outside

“One sec” Bucky yelled from the porch where he sat with you sipping on a beer. He leaned over and kissed your cheek before running out to the field with your brother. You joined your mother in the house, passing the prom picture of you and Frank. You ran your fingers over his face

“I miss you” You whispered before walking into the kitchen. Your mother watching out the window at the men in the family playing a poorly called game of football. Your eyes caught Bucky running from Ben, his hair falling out it’s bun

“You haven’t had anyone over for the holidays since Frank, I assume you gave up on the superstition”

“Mom Frank was my soulmate, the one good love I get in this life. Bucky and I are just friends”

“Sweatie Frank is gone and you can still love him, but that man out there looks at you like the world revolves around you” You shook your head “Your relationship with Frank was so toxic all you did was fight, both of your were stubborn teenagers. And then he died honey, you didn’t get to grieve prop-“

“Mom stop!” Your mom’s heart broke as she saw the tears form in your eyes “I’m done talking about Frank” You climbed the stairs to your bedroom, not caring that Muriel’s stuff was scattered around the room.

Bucky walked up the stairs to your room, per your mom’s instruction. He slowly pushed the door open, he noticed the room probably hadn’t been decorated since you left for college. Back Street Boys and NSYNC posters covered your wall with FFA memorabilia. He eyes landed on you hunched over a picture on the edge of your bed

“Want to talk about it?” He asked pulling you into his side and you wiped your nose with your sleeve

“This is Frank Castle, the only other man I’ve loved except for Clint, except Frank loved me back” You chuckled

“What happened?” Bucky asked

“He died, killed in action” Bucky closed his eyes “They said he was hit directly by the blast so there’s no way he felt anything” You sniffed

“How old were you?” He rubbed circles on your shoulder

“I was 20, he was 22. We were going to get married when I finished school so I could live on base with him” Bucky pulled you in for a hug and held you until your sniffles stopped “Sorry coming home always reminds me of him” You wipe the makeup from under your eyes

“No worries”

“I think dinner is ready” You nodded and followed him down the stairs and took your seats at the dinning room table, it’s only ever used for Thanksgiving. Your father prayed and blessed the food and thanked God for a bountiful harvest this year. Your dad carved the turkey and gave Bucky the leg

“And you gets the other?” You father asked and Bucky smiled and turned to you

“Y/N, she would’ve shot the damn thing if I took another second” Your family laughed as Bucky handed you the leg. Dinner was full of laughs and goodhearted conversations from your family, it was times like Thanksgiving that you are thankful for your dysfunctional family. You watched your niece and nephew play in the living room with everyone ate pie 

“Sing Auntie Y/N” Your nephew yelled as his dad brought out the guitar

“Y/N doesn’t sing anymore remember” Clair called

“I’ll sing” You smiled at the children and Bucky saw your parents head whip away from their conversations to their children as Braxton counted you off

“Kiss me mother kiss your darlin’.

Lay my head upon your breast

Throw your loving arms around me. 

I am weary let me rest

Seems the light is swiftly fading

Brighter scenes they do now show

I am standing by the river

Angels wait to take me home” The blue grass tune was soft and light, relaxing others in the room, Bucky couldn’t help but stare in awe

“Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'

See the pain upon my brow

While I'll soon be with the angels

Fate has doomed my future now

Through the years you've always loved me

And my life you've tried to save

But now I shall slumber sweetly

In a deep and lonely grave

Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'

Lay my head upon your breast

Throw your loving arms around me

I am weary let me rest

I am weary let me rest” A content smile found it’s way across your face as the children climbed on your lap and demanded more songs. Bucky learned against the door frame as he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He turned to find your father with a smile on his face

“Keep on doing what your doing, she hasn’t sang since Frank” Bucky nodded as a warm feeling spread across his chest that grew hotter when you turned and smiled at him.

A/N pt. 2: God I forgot how much I actually like this part

Taglist: @hailqueenconquer​ @2ptonpt​ 

[atomic-lexa]

53 for Danse/sole?

Ten Points

(Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor)

Prompt #53: “I’m flirting with you.”

Sole’s arms and legs ached with sleep as they pulled themselves out of their bedroll. The air was moist, and grossly thick around them. Taking a deep breath, the humid scent of rain and swamp filled their lungs- and only then they remembered where they were. Captain Kells had, the previous night, flung them to farthest southeastern corner of the Commonwealth to clear out some god-forsaken location, and return to the Prydwen will Mirelurk-scented jumpsuits and water-logged boots. Ad Victoriam. They pulled themself into a sitting position and rubbed a hand heavily across their face.

The sky was still somewhat shadowed, leaving a grim gray tint across the landscape outside their make-shift shelter. Mud squelched underfoot, and they ventured further from the shack, listening to the wind through the cattails. Soft rustling and unsettling of lapping water against clay banks.

Paying too much attention to their environment, Sole nearly collided with their sponsor. The Paladin looked as though he’d been awake several hours prior to them, and his countenance was stoic as his gaze found them.

“Good morning, Soldier. Feeling rested?” He asked.

“No.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. We have quite the mission ahead of us.”

Sole liked the way he said it, with hardiness and enthusiasm, even though they knew he probably hadn’t slept so well, either, and also knowing he’d probably had Fancy Lad snack cakes for breakfast. Better than bug meat, they supposed.

He stood before an old winding road, which looked to have a ghoul every five yards or so. Not so fun. They were far enough away to be observed without hostility- yet. A dilapidated building seemed to be the festering chasm they were pouring from, and Danse studied it.

“Can’t believe we’re all the way down here for this.” They muttered.

“There’s a farm a few klicks off that won’t trade with us until this sight is cleared. It will be a great benefit.” He didn’t hesitate with the assurance. Something Danse never tripped on was professionalism. He was the Shakespeare of strategy; his mind was full of it. Something Danse did trip on was Sole’s own artillery of contentious comments.

“And what if I end up liking it down here, big guy? Just the two of us, and the Mirelurks…” They prompted.

“I supposed you could put in a request for further assignments in this area. Though Brotherhood activity here is limited. Lots of uncharted territory.” Danse responded.

“Fewer interruptions, then. Just the way I like it…” They tried. Their Paladin’s eyes didn’t move from the ghoul infestation.

“Focus is imperative.”

“Anything you might like to focus on, Paladin?” They leaned on the arm of his power armor lasciviously.

“I don’t follow your implications, Knight.”

As much as they’d convinced themself of the direness of their roll, some days they still managed to not take themselves seriously. Something about the dissociation that came along with being tossed into a new world made it hard to be respectful of structure and authority, as a soldier should be. Unfortunately for Danse, he was not well-versed in this mindset.

“Well, if it was just the two of us out here for a long time, it might get lonely… lots of cold nights…” They eyed him with a smirk.

“I suppose so. Fires may be difficult to start, with the moisture in the air. But I’m sure it would be manageable, with the proper-“

“Danse.”

He paused, and looked down at them expectantly. “I’m flirting with you.” They said, tilting their head.

“Oh. I- I see. As.. as you were, Soldier.” He turned his attention back to his duty a little too quickly.

There it was. That satisfying little stutter he did when they caught him off guard. Sole grinned smugly at their handiwork; the shade of red on his face. They felt a little better now, starting their morning off right by chalking up another instance they made the Paladin blush. That’s 10 since they met- in the span of a few months. Haylen owed them some caps.

Oh boy the quality on this one😬Don’t mind me. Something quick n cute and a concept I’ve been sitting on.