#i dunno how to draw hands and now you know why i draw paws instead...

[int3rn3tb0y]

i dunno what they're talking abt i jus drew this for sillies

[trollartistry]

Fleeting Reunion

Doing a drabble again! No art this time, but I might draw it later. I had the idea of ‘what if Nemi reunited with Classic Freddy as an adult?’ and wanted to do something with it.

Now, just an FYI, this drabble’s based on the idea that *somehow* and for *some* reason, the old classic animatronics were kept and used as parts or something for the new Glamrocks. Also dunno what year Security Breach canonly is in so I’m using our current year, 2021. So I’m really breaking canon here- oh well.

Story under the read more!

The first time Nemi discovered the old, beat down classics, he was shocked and thought he had been seeing things. Tucked deep in the pizzaplex was a parts and services room, and while he worked as a nightguard, on occasion he’d act as a mechanic. The man only had been looking for a basic piece to replace in Monty’s arm as it had broken mid golf swing, and it was an easy fix. But Nemi found more than just the part he needed- he found 4 familiar animatronics from the pizzeria he used to go to as a child; Foxy, Bonnie, Chica, and of course Freddy.

It plagued his mind, and it unnerved him every time he had to go into that room. They weren’t even that dismantled, if anything just.. broken. The foam and fabric on all of them torn, Chica’s hands were missing, Bonnie’s face was gone, and Foxy looked shredded up along his limbs and ear. Freddy was the only one that looked mostly decent, but the state he was in infuriated the nightguard. All of these beloved robots, just dumped in the back with no care in the world.

And then Nemi’s thoughts went from a simple, curious walk to a manic, inquisitive run. Were they the same four from that old pizzeria he attended on a weekly basis when he was a child? Why were they here? Could they still work if he powered them up? What would he even do once he turned them all on and they were the old ones he once knew? ...Would Freddy remember who he was, if Nemi was to power him up? 

Finally his willpower broke one night. He had to know. He would only power up Freddy, just to see what would happen. If it wasn’t the same Freddy as the one all those years ago, he’d just shut him back off and let his burning questions fizzle to forgotten ash. And if it was the same Freddy, well.. they could at least catch up.

He spent a good month or so sneaking in, fiddling with wires and parts to make sure the bot could turn on without much difficulty. Thankfully, it seemed any evidence of his tampering either went unnoticed, or wasn’t reported cuz no one ever stopped him. And finally, one night, he was done. All there was left to do was flick the switch and power Freddy up. Nemi took a breath in, muttered his hope, and flicked the switch.

Sparks sputtered and the whole frame of Freddy jolted as power ran through his circuits, causing Nemi to jump back. Inside there was whirring, old inner workings flowing with electricity. The man watched, unsure if his heart was racing with hope or anxiety as the bot’s eyes twitched a bit, before blinking, focusing in on the darkened room and the person before him.

Freddy sat up against the wall, ears tilting a little and he blinked once, twice. Nemi could tell he was confused immediately, the way his eyebrows furrowed and he shut his jaw in a pursed manner. There was silence, an uncomfortable silence and Nemi didn’t know what to say or do, Freddy was just sitting there..

As Nemi opened his mouth, Freddy blinked with some recognition and spoke, unsure, “..*D-Deadname*?”

It’s a name that hasn’t been used by friends or family in so many years, only used for legal manners. But hearing it makes Nemi choke on his words as his heart clenches with emotion. So it is the same Freddy, and he recognizes him even after all these years.

“..Y-yea, it’s me, Freddy.” Nemi said, coming back over to kneel down before the sitting bot, unable to help but grin at him. “I don’t- don’t go by that anymore b-but it’s me.”

Freddy’s silent as he looks the man over, obviously a bit frazzled seeing someone he last saw as a child now kneeling before him as a grown man. He then looks around the room, and sees all of the different parts, and his fellow animatronics. He’s quiet as he takes it all in, and even though he’s old and worn, Freddy was wise and knew what this entailed. They weren’t in use anymore and instead replaced.

“I uh.. go by Nemi now.” Nemi said, bringing the bot’s attention back to him. Freddy blinked, then softly hummed a little as he nodded, “Nemi.. it’s.. unique.”

“Heh.. yea, got it during highschool.” Nemi replied. It’s quiet again and Freddy’s once again looking around, and Nemi wiped his watery eyes before deciding to explain, “You uh.. You’re in Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaplex. The year’s 2021.. I guess you guys are being used as parts now.”

“2021?” Freddy asked, attention back on Nemi. The man nods and Freddy gives a quiet sigh, “..I’m amazed we’re still in solid pieces then. Or that I even work..” He looked down at himself.

“I uh.. had to fix you quite a bit actually just to get you to t-turn on..” Nemi said with a shrug. He’s looking over Freddy again, and now that the animatronic’s on and talking, it makes his withered state hurt Nemi all the more. Freddy doesn’t miss the first tears dripping down the man’s face and he tries to distract him from his emotions, “Hey.. at least my name’s still out there, right? Surely there’s another model of me still keeping an eye on you.” He smiled.

Nemi’s heart only hurts more than that. Glamrock Freddy was just as incredible as the classic, if not more, and sure, the man loves him dearly.. but he could hear his younger self weep in the back of his mind, ‘But that’s not MY Freddy!’ Nemi clenches his eyes shut at that, a sniffle escaping him, and Freddy quietly sighs before he opens his arms, the old joints creaking. “Shh.. come here, it’s okay.”

The guard, though grown, can’t help but immediately close the distance to hug the beloved animatronic, a sob escaping him. Freddy holds him close, and recalls the few times he did this to Nemi when he was a little girl. He begins to try and play the same tune he did back then, but realizes he no longer has his music box, only a soft clicking noise coming from the inner crank that was left installed to turn it. So instead, Freddy talks and hopes his voice offers that same comfort.

“I missed you.. It’s nice to see you grown up.” Freddy said softly, removing the security hat from Nemi’s head to stroke his hair soothingly. Nemi manages to whimper out that he missed the bot as well, along with an apology that makes Freddy hush him softly, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Nemi..”

The brunette pulls back a little, shaking his head as he tries to wipe those spilled tears, “I-I didn’t even get to say goodbye to you back then when I had to move.. A-And now, here you are, i-in the back of a damn mall collecting d-dust and in pieces-” He began, and a old paw cups his cheek.

“None of that is your fault.” Freddy said as he comforted the man, “What matters is you had a good life after your time with me. I knew I would eventually be taken down from the spotlight, either for good or for a new model to replace me.. it happens, Nemi.”

Nemi looks at the bot who gives him a warm smile, the same smile he would give him all those years ago. It calms some of those bubbling sorrows, but Nemi still can’t help but sniffle.

“It’s been, what.. 10 or so years? And you’ve changed so much.. we have time, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to? Just like old times.” Freddy offered, and Nemi nodded.

He told the bear about his father’s passing, the many years of moving before he ended up in his aunt and uncle’s care. How he discovered his own identity and realized he was a man, and graduated highschool by the skin of his teeth. Freddy listened to all of it, just like how he used to listen to Nemi as a child talk about his days back then. He then asked about the pizzaplex and how the man enjoyed working there, and Nemi in turn talked about the whole place and the Glamrock animatronics. Freddy’s amused at how Nemi talks about Glamrock Freddy- its that same admiration the man had for Freddy back then.. and something more, Freddy can tell. The conversation helped Nemi calm down and it was comforting to Freddy himself to know he was still loved by people, even if it was a completely different model. But a glance to his watch told Nemi he only had another hour or two before his shift was up. Before his time with Freddy, was up.

“..Y’know,” Nemi began after a silent moment of just being close to the bot, “I think- I think they’d get along fine with you and the others.. I could work on them too, get them up and running, and-”

“No.” Freddy shuts down the idea with a frown. It hurts to do so, but he knows his place. “I’ve had my time on the stage. We all have..”

The nightguard looks shocked at Freddy’s answer, and tries to change his mind, “F-Freddy c’mon, it’ll be fine! Maybe- Maybe HR would consider refurbishing you guys and you can be part of it all even-!” He said, voice cracking with desperation and Freddy cups the man’s face again, eyes sternly looking down at him.

“You and I both know that’s not how it would go, Nemi.” He said, “Even if we got along with the Glamrocks, it’d be trouble for all of us to be on again. You already risked your job just to get me back online, do you know how much trouble you’ll get into if you left me on?”

“I don’t care!” Nemi exclaimed, not caring just how childish he sounded, “Do you know how much I missed you when I had to leave?! And now here at my job I find your- your broken body just laying here and not know if it was really you and now that I put in all that work, it really IS you?! I-I can’t just- power you back down and forget about you after this, I-I wont! I love you too much to lose you again!!”

There’s a silence, and Nemi’s face grows red as he realizes what he said was selfish and childish of him, along with a confession for the old bot. Freddy’s surprised to hear it, but he then smiles, brushing back some of the brunette hair.

“I know. But you’ve never lost me nor forgot about me, have you? You got a job at a place with my name still in it, along with getting along with another me.” Freddy said warmly, “I know it’s hard.. but it’s for the best. If you kept me on, it would jeopardize everything and you could lose everything you have here.. including that Glamrock version of me.”

Nemi’s eyes widen, before looking away with sorrow at the thought of losing Glamrock Freddy. Freddy was right, but the thought of having to turn him back off had Nemi’s heart twisting in agony. “..B-but.. I can’t..” He whimpered, and Freddy pulled him back into the embrace.

“I know it’s hard.. but you have to.” Freddy murmured. “I’ll still be here, in more ways than one.”

Nemi nodded, fresh tears spilling as he let out another sob, “Can- can I hear your song, just one last time..?”

Freddy may of not had his music box, but he began to hum softly, letting the man hear that tune once more. They stayed there in the darkness of the room, Nemi quietly crying in Freddy’s arms as he listened, before sitting up as the last few notes were hummed. Nemi opened up the bot’s chest, reaching in to that power switch and looked up at Freddy, the two sharing one last gaze.

“G-Goodbye, Freddy..”

“Goodbye, Nemi.”

And with a flip of the switch, the sound of machinery powering down echoed in Nemi’s ears as he watched the life fade from Freddy’s eyes as he slumped against the wall, eyelids closing over. The man closed the chest plate, staring at the bot with a heavy heart before picking up his hat and getting up. He went to the door, pausing to take one glance back to the beloved bear, before exiting the room, the thud of the door closing behind him echoing down the hall.

A week later when he has to go in to that same room, he’s griefstricken to see the four bodies of the classic animatronics were gone for good and for the rest of that night, it’s spent sticking close to Glamrock Freddy as the new, shiny Glamrock model of his beloved childhood friend still brought the man comfort and happiness.

[fandomlovingfreak]

Healing His Heart (7/?)

Young Remus Lupin/Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Word Count: 1625

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link I Tiktok Link

Summary: (y/n) is two years younger than him, a popular Slytherin, and Regulus Black’s best friend. Yet he can’t help but be attracted to her bewitching personality and sweet smile. Unfortunately, his er–problem makes it harder to get close to others. Despite his attempts to push her away (for her own good) she seems determined to worm her way into his life.

Notes: Next chapter is one of my favorites:)

Enjoy

The full moon creeps up on him quicker than it felt it should. During the week before the awful night, he found himself always nearby (y/n). Part of him thought he'd go mad if a part of his body wasn't touching her at all times. (y/n) had been surprised the first few times he'd acted this way. Regulus had come a bit too close to (y/n) for his liking as they sat in the Great Hall for lunch one of the days. Without thinking, Remus had pulled her a bit closer to his side, his eyes sharp on Regulus, who stared back at him in bewilderment.

"What's his problem?" Regulus had turned to (y/n).

(y/n) had bit her lip, trying to think of a good excuse for Remus's behavior, "Uh-- you know how new relationships are?"

Regulus gave her a look that indicated he clearly didn't believe that lie one bit. "Okay?... anyways, did you get the answer for question three?"

(y/n) had looked at Remus for a beat before turning back to Regulus, showing him her parchment.

Remus the next morning had given her two of his sweaters, "you need to wear these."

"What-- why?" (y/n) had looked down at his sweaters.

"Just do it." He dropped the sweaters in her arms.

"Remus, these won't fit comfortably under my school robes."

Remus pursed his lips, "after classes then."

"Why--? I don't understand what's happening."

Remus sighs, feeling anxious as he usually does around this time of the month, but he doesn't quite understand where the added aggressive edge is coming from. "Just please (y/n). Take the sweaters."

(y/n) looks at him for a beat before nodding, "I guess if it means so much to you…"

When he finds her after classes and sees her wearing his sweater, he preens. It's so good to see her in his clothing, and he likes it more than he'd ever admit. 

"Are you happy?" She asks, her arms reaching out to wrap around his neck. Remus hums in the back of his throat as he nuzzles into her neck.

"Yes, exceptionally happy."

(y/n)' s fingers card through his messy hair, looking rather amused with his behavior, "you're acting rather odd this week, darling."

"I dunno why," he presses a shy kiss to her jaw.

"I don't hate it truthfully, except the part where you got mad at Reggie for being near me. That was weird."

"He was too close," Remus murmurs. If he could, he'd swallow her in his arms to keep her out of view of everyone else. No one should be looking at her but him.

She giggles, "is this some Werewolf thing?" she whispers in his ear.

"I honestly don't know. I've never acted like this before--"

"Oh, so it's me?" her musical laughter tickles his ear.

Remus nods, kissing her neck this time, "maybe it is you. Have you read anything about this--?"

"Not that I can remember. I was mainly focused on the actual transformation when I was reading. Say, what do you do on that night?"

Remus pulls away slightly, "uh-- well…" he looks around to make sure no one is listening in on their conversation, "Peter, Sirius, and James spend the night with me out in the Shrieking Shack."

"The Shrieking Shack?" she frowns, "Wait! Are you the ghosts and banshees or whatever else everyone assumes is in there?"

"It's interesting how they've never put two and two together, huh? The noise and the particular timing."

"Oh, Remus. That's where you go?" She's touching his face gently, worry in her eyes.

"It's the safest option. Dumbledore concocted the plan before I got my letter. Don't worry about me. Like I said, I have my friends."

"Well… that can't be safe for them? And… I want to be there for you, as well."

Remus shakes his head, "No. You're staying here in the castle where I know you won't be in danger."

"But Remus--" she starts to argue.

"It's not like I don't trust you, (y/n)." He reaches out his hand to touch her, forearm, "I don't trust myself."

"But I could help!" she counterpoints.

He smiles at his brave girl, "It's dangerous. Sirius, Peter, and James--" he looks around the room. There are too many people around to spill this sort of secret to her. "Come with me."

"What? What's wrong?" she lets him pull her into an empty classroom.

"What I'm about to tell you is incredibly...well, it's illegal. James, Sirius, and Peter could get into big trouble if it got out."

(y/n) frowns, "what--?"

"Just promise me you won't say anything. Nothing I tell you right now can be spoken outside of this room to anyone."

"Remus, what the fuck are you talking about?"

He runs his hand through his hair, "Can you just say you won't say anything."

She taps her foot, impatiently, "yes, yes. Tell me."

"They're Animagi."

Her eyes widened, "what? Are they really--wait, they're unregistered?"

"Of course they are…"

"The four of you…" (y/n) rolls her eyes, "I swear you want to be sent to Azkaban."

He grins, "You don't know how much it helps though, (y/n). Not being alone--"

"Well, I want to be there for you as well--" She grips his hand in her own.

Remus shakes his head, "No. You will not go with them (y/n). You're not an Animagus first of all--"

"Then I'll become one! If Sirius can, there's no way I can't."

"I'm not letting you get involved with their…" he moves his hand around, looking for the right word, "activities. They chose to become Animagi for me. I didn't ask them."

"Well, I'm not asking you," she crosses her arms across her chest.

"I'm asking you do not. I--I think I'm falling in love with you. I don't want you to get in trouble on account of me."

Remus feels his face burn. "You do?" His mouth feels dry as he nods his head, hoping he didn't fuck up-- 

(y/n) smiles, hugging him tightly. Her head rests on his chest, "I think I'm falling in love with you as well, Remus."

Remus hugs her back, feeling like his heart is about to burst. (y/n) leans up to kiss him. 

***

"Are you sure?" She asks for the billionth time.

Remus squeezes her hand, affectionately, "I'll be fine, darling."

She reaches up to cradle his face in her hand, "I hate that I won't know until tomorrow morning…"

He moves to press a kiss to the palm of her hand, "I know, but don't worry."

"Please be as safe as possible. You tell those three I'll kick their ass if something happens--"

Remus grins, "I think Sirius is well aware of that."

"James isn't scared of me yet."

He chuckles, pulling her close to his chest. Her solid warmth in his arms feels lovely. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She doesn't let go; instead, her fingers grip his body tighter, "Be safe."

"Of course," he means to press a kiss to her cheek, but (y/n) seems to have other ideas as she maneuvers herself, so he's kissing her mouth. He sighs against the softness, letting (y/n) do as she pleases.

"Rem, you only have a few hours. We should get going." James interrupts, "Oh, whoops… sorry." James looks away from the embrace.

"Too late" (y/n) laughs, "you've ruined it, Jamie."

Remus chuckles, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "good night. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

***

He follows Madam Pomfrey to the Whomping Willow. 

"You have everything you need, Mr. Lupin?" she asks.

"Yes, ma'am," he pats his bag containing his clothing for the morning.

"In you go then, dear." Madam Pomfrey uses the spell she's used ten times a year for seven years now to immobilize the Whomping Willow, allowing Remus to slip into the secret passageway to the Shrieking Shack.

The tunnel starts relatively narrow but expands once it draws closer to his destination. When he was eleven and made this trip for the first time, he had thought the tunnel to be rather interesting. It was old and a bit dusty, only growing older and dustier as the school years passed.

He opens the door to the single room of the Shrieking Shack. Setting his bag down by the side of the musty bed, he sits down. The waiting is one of the worst parts of his transformations. Not only does the boredom cloud his mind, but so does the dread. The dread that after all this waiting, the very worst part begins. 

Most people would assume the dread would be associated with the pain of transforming from man to wolf. Though there is still pain that comes with his transformations on the full moon, he's become somewhat numb to that specific pain. It's more of discomfort at this point, the painful part being his bones shifting. He's never broken every bone in his body at once, but he imagined this felt very much the same.

After an hour of sitting, he feels the familiar tingle that starts at the ends of his fingers and toes. 

Only a few minutes… he glances out the window to see the moon has almost entirely come out of hiding.

He thinks of (y/n) at this moment. Thinks about her expression filled eyes and her sparkling giggles. Thinks of all the times she's kissed him, touched his body... It distracts him from the sudden swell of pain as the transformation begins. He hates to see the physical transformation begin, but tonight he looks down at his hands as they elongate, grow claws, and become the strong paws of a wolf.

His last coherent thought is about her, about how tomorrow will be better because she'll be there. His world goes black.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Puppy Love (A Light Fingers Moment In Between)

A/N: Sometimes I say words, and other people say words, and stuff happens. Part of me wants to say AU because it would be easier, but I love making things More Difficult on Purpose.  Word Count: 2333 Rating: G(eneral Audience)

You tapped Diego on the shoulder, nodding your head in the direction of the faint clatter you’d heard. 

The pair of you had popped in to stop a home invasion, but one of the perps had taken off with a priceless family heirloom, and you’d agreed to give chase. Unfortunately, he had a head start and you had lost him in the warren of a crowded parking garage. 

Diego pressed a finger to his lips and nodded, gesturing with his free hand for you to circle around while he approached from the front to draw attention.

You met his eyes for a brief moment, lower lip worrying between your teeth. You gave his arm a brief squeeze before nodding and setting off. No matter how long you’d been doing this, you worried about him when his plans worked out like this, with him picking fights so you could have the element of surprise. As you moved, quick and quiet, something felt wrong about the situation. Hesitantly, you fingered the knife that Diego had insisted you started carrying on these jobs, not pulling it out yet, but reassuring yourself that it was there and easily accessible. 

There was another scuffling sound and a soft whine, one that didn’t sound human. You picked up your pace now, running in the direction of the noises. There, huddled in the corner of the garage, caught and tugging on the corner of a dumpster, was a small, shivering dog. 

“Hi there,” you said softly, sinking low and holding your hand out as you crept closer to the frightened creature. 

You heard pounding footsteps behind you as Diego ran up, the sound making the dog yelp and try to cower more.

“Shh, shh,” you hummed, shifting to sit cross-legged in front of it, blocking it’s view of Diego, and giving you a more steady position to hold the little creature still while you unhooked it’s collar from the sharp, bent edge of the trash.

Once freed, you expected it to squirm in your arms or try to run, but instead, it stayed, pressed lightly against your leg, shivering. It was covered in so much mud you could hardly tell it was meant to be white and stank horribly (or maybe that was the bins), but you were pretty sure someone would be missing it. 

“Think you can find our bad guy on your own?” you murmured as Diego peered over your shoulder. “I don’t want to abandon this little one to its own devices.”

He couldn’t help chuckling. “Yeah, I got it. Meet you back here?”

“I’m not waiting for you by the dumpsters. I’ll meet you by the entrance.” 

~

After returning the expensive and hideous brooch to the family, and turning the would-be-burglars over to the cops, you and Diego made your way home, the little dog wrapped in a towel in your arms. The family hadn’t ever seen it around before, and the tag had the dog’s name, “Penny,” but no name or address of an owner.

“It’s alright Penny,” you told her as you walked. “We’ll get you cleaned up, take some nice pictures and put up flyers. I’m sure someone’s missing you and will be excited to have you home again soon.”

“Why don’t we just take it to the shelter?” Diego asked gruffly, trying to hide how cute he thought Penny was.

“Shelters are overcrowded and understaffed. They have a hard time caring for the dogs that need homes, let alone the ones that just got lost and get brought to them. Besides, I...want to make sure her family gets her back, and that’s easier to do if we make the handoff.”

Diego shook his head, slightly exasperated. “Fine. But if it takes more than a few days--”

“We’ll discuss that only if we have to.” You shifted the dog so that you would have a free hand and bopped Diego’s nose teasingly. “Don’t be a grump.”

He gaped at you. “For that, I’m not helping you wash it.”

“Of course you’re not, baby. You’re going out to buy kibble and a leash.” You smiled winningly at him.

~

Penny was with you for just over a week before you got a call during dinner one night. The man on the other end of the line said that he had seen your flyers and was sure that the dog you found belonged to his elderly mother. She had been worried sick when the dog slipped out, but hadn’t been able to follow it, and because of his work, he hadn’t been able to put out ‘missing’ posters. You told him you were glad he called and asked if he had evidence the dog was his or his mother’s. He told you he’d bring a picture of the two of them together, and arranged to meet you at Griddy’s Doughnuts the next morning. 

During the time she was there, Penny settled in quite well with you and Diego, excited when either of you left and came back, quite happy to sit on your laps while you watched tv or read at night, curling up at the foot of the bed when you went to sleep. She and Diego in particular, for all his protests, seemed inseparable. For all his protests at first, he seemed to enjoy all of her antics, and slipped her food off his plate when she gave him big sad eyes and he thought you weren’t paying attention. When you told him that her owner had finally called, he hid a frown behind a cough.

“Diego,” you sighed, seeing his face fall anyway. “You knew we couldn’t keep her…”

You were just as sad as he was, if you were being honest. You had never really imagined yourself a dog person, the idea of having a pet so far off your radar as to be unfathomable. But Penny had slotted into your lives like a missing piece, and as glad as you were to return her, safe and happy, to her home and the people that loved her, you and Diego loved her too.

“I know,” he said softly. “Just. It’ll be weird once she’s gone.”

You bit your lip, considering the words that bubbled up your throat before letting them fall from your tongue, nearly as impulsive as your marriage proposal.

“Ya know...we could...get a dog of our own?” you shrugged, trying to play off the idea as a casual thought.

~

It was hard not to be overwhelmed by the smell and sound within the shelter’s kennel area, over two dozen dogs baying, barking, and bouncing on the chain-link fencing as the pair of you were led through to an open area where you could do some meet and greets. 

Nervously you sat on the bench, fingers laced with Diego’s and running your thumb back and forth over his knuckles. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Talk to me.”

You shrugged, biting your lip. “I dunno. This just feels big, suddenly. And what if we can’t find one that likes both of us, or what if we fuck it up. I’ve never...taken care of another living thing before. Not by myself.”

“You take care of me all the time,” he said, tugging you into a hug. “And you won’t be alone. We’re in this together remember?”

Your smile was watery but genuine as you returned the hug, burying your face against his neck.

“How did I ever do shit without you?” you murmured, backing away but not fully letting go.

He didn’t have a chance to respond with more than a squeeze of your joined hands as Martin returned with the first dog. 

“I thought we’d start with some one-on-one interactions with a few dogs I think would be a good fit based on what you told me, and then we’ll see who clicks and you can have some time to play with the top two or three, pick from there.”

You nodded, holding your hand, palm out, toward the black lab tugging at the leash he held. He introduced her as Sheila, and while she seemed friendly, your heart wasn’t in it. The same feeling continued through several other perfectly nice dogs, and though you were both tempted by a roly-poly border collie puppy and by a sweet but very lazy bulldog, as soon as the handler had left the room with them, you’d looked at each other and known it wasn’t right. 

“Can we...maybe, just walk through the kennels and see if something I don’t know...calls to us?” you asked hesitantly after about the eighth dog you felt no real connection with. 

“Oh!” the man looked surprised you had even suggested it and took a long moment to process the request. “Sure, we can do that.”

Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, Diego pulled you against his side as the pair of you followed Martin back into the kennels.

“You know we don’t have to find a dog today, right?” he asked softly, sensing your continued nerves. “If nothing here works out, we’ll keep looking.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I just…got really excited, and now I feel like we failed or something.”

“Well, we haven’t yet.”

Suddenly, you stopped short, jerking Diego along with you, so quickly that your guide didn’t even notice. Staring up at you, his black fur almost lost in shadow but for his white bib, the boxer gave you the biggest, saddest eyes you had ever seen. Crouching down, you tentatively reached your hand outward, pressing it against the chainlink.

“Hi…” you cooed as he edged forward, crawling on his belly until he could sniff and then attempt to lick your fingers from the other side. 

Diego mirrored your stance, kneeling in front of the kennel door, and by the time Martin realized you were no longer behind him and doubled back, the pair of you were enraptured and the dog was no longer cowering, instead bouncing and pawing at the fence to try and get to you, tongue lolling out of his mouth and slobbering on as much of you as he could reach. 

“Oh,” he said, sounding almost disappointed. “You met Duncan…trust me, you don’t want him.”

“What?” you asked, whipping your head around to look at the man. “Why not?”

“He was born here, runt of the litter so for a while no one wanted him. Now he’s almost two and he’s ended up back here from four homes already. Can’t figure out why, but he just doesn’t work out.”

“Well there must be something going on,” you argued. “Or else that wouldn’t be true right?”

Martin shrugged. “I guess. But it ain’t my place. I just know the poor bastard’s probably going to live his whole life in there.”

“No,” Diego said, turning to you and smiling when you gave him a brief nod. “Because we’ll take him.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. And it seems cruel to give him false hope a fifth time.”

“It won’t be false. We won’t give up on him,” you insisted. “I understand wanting to protect him, and us, but please. Just...trust us.”

“You’re sure there’s not another dog you want instead?”

“No,” Diego said firmly. “We want Duncan.”

At the sound of his name from Diego’s mouth, his ears perked up and he sat down patiently, expectantly almost.  

We know a thing or two about loving the unloved, you wanted to say, this was fate you wanted to argue. But how could you even begin?

“Let’s go take care of the paperwork and...see what my boss says.”

~

Later that night, as you rested your head against Diego’s chest on the couch, not really watching the movie on the tv, you found yourself anxiously drumming your fingers on his knee.

“Y/N,” he said knowingly, catching and stilling your hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles.

“Do you think they’ll approve us?” you asked, voicing the question on both your minds.

“I don’t know. We just have to wait,” he chuckled, shaking his head as you opened your mouth to interrupt, “patiently. And see what happens. Hope it’ll work out.”

You groaned. “Why do you have to be right all the time?”

“It’s a carefully honed talent.”

~

Diego’s keys jingled in the doorknob and you held your breath, praying that your companion would stay quiet.

“Just another minute boy,” you muttered. 

As soon as you heard the door shut behind your husband, you let go of Duncan’s collar and he bounded over, his entire body wriggling along with his stubby tail. Diego swore, startled by the dog’s sudden appearance from around the corner, and you couldn’t help laughing as you followed, more sedately behind.

“Wha—” Diego said, kneeling to ruffle Duncan’s ears, leaning away as his lolling tongue tried to lick his newly accessible face. 

“You didn’t steal him did you?” he asked, teasing smile lighting his features.

“I am hurt and offended that you would even suggest such a thing,” you said dramatically, a hand pressed to your chest for effect. “This was completely legitimate, and Duncan is now our dog. Or technically my dog, until you go sign your copy of the adoption contract tomorrow morning.”

“That’s...we have a dog…” he breathed, shock settling over him. 

“Diego, are you crying?” you asked gently, concern overriding your amusement. 

He was silent and you moved to his side, sitting down, next to your husband and dog and wrapping an arm around each of them.

“They’re happy tears right?” you asked, feeling some of your own building as it suddenly struck you that this right here was a family, a happy family, and all your own. 

“The happiest,” he murmured, managing a quick kiss to your temple just before the moment was broken by Duncan licking a long stripe up his cheek and flopping over onto your laps for a belly rub, sending you both into a fit of laughter.

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

End Note: Is a studio apartment an appropriate space for a boxer? Should inexperienced owners adopt a dog that the shelter thinks is a “problem” dog? Probably not, as a rule. But individual dogs have individual needs, they’re active-lifestyle adults, we’ll assume there’s a dog park nearby, and also it’s fiction and I think it’s cute, so...

[amintyworld]

Oh! Oh! For the mutual thing, in relating to tss, who would be a light side and who would be a dark side? Would any of them kinda be like Virgil who changed sides? Or maybe opposite? If you wanna go further, what would they represent too?

Alright Anon, I hope you know you inspired something amazing. Mutuals, I have here Sanders Sides OCs with each and every one of you in mind, including Icons (which is why this took a while to finish). Anyway, I hope you enjoy them and feel free to draw or write with them, and maybe come up with some ideas or designs for my own (Because I couldn't figure out a good fit to make a OC for me). Here we go, and I hope you guys enjoy! <3

Let's start out with the creativity twins (Two sides of creativity):

@h-ad3s - Instinct (Dark Side)

• Instinct represents the wild, spontaneous side of creativity - like painting or writing your feelings out, when you do something just because you want to.

• Very Impulsive at times, and because of their reckless nature can get the (what do you call it? Thomas part?) 'Thomas' in trouble a lot, leading to everyone pegging them as a dark evil troublemaker

• As with their twin, Instinct can turn into a animal at will - theirs is a raccoon.

• Found late at night rummanaging through or sleeping in garbage. 'Why, Inst? You have a bed!' 'Because. The funny smells calm me, plus I wanted to.'

• Has eaten glitter, glue, bar soap, and even a ceramic mug (No one knows how they ate the mug to this day.)

• But, when feeling sad or someone else is sad, they usually are found in raccoon form cuddled up in Protection or Imagination's lap, sleeping.

@dee-ree-vee - Passion (Light Side)

• Passion represents the creating for creation's sake side of creativity. They create not based solely on emotion, but because it brings them happiness to create. Passion represents just happiness and drive for any hobby, and the drive to improve. As well as, you guessed it, passion in Relationships as well - weather it be platonic, familial, or romantic.

• Despite being told to stay away from Instinct because they're dangerous, and that they were the 'better creativity', they still try to chat and connect with them because of their past closeness feeling like family.

• They can turn into a cat at will like Instinct, and usually use the form to sneak out and meet Instinct in the 'Creativescape', a middle between the darkscape and the mindscape, where they are crowned ruler.

• They love free time of any kind, and enjoy the constant creative drive with weekends or holiday breaks, and are usually the ones who come up with gift ideas or little surprises for Friends, Family, or SOs.

• Can get overwhelmed by expectations of always doing things right and never making a mistake, in that way being slightly jealous of their twin.

• Their favorite thing to do is help make dreams with Imagination and fight off nightmares, sometimes even Instinct joining to help.

@lightyagamisqueen - Protection (Dark side)

• Protection represents Fight or Flight as well as Anxiety, but also white lies at times to take the pain away, to protect. The lies leading them to become a Dark Side.

• Has a very hard time relaxing, leading them to get burnout quite often from their overly taxing job, and Instinct, being the only other Dark Side and who knew them well would always be there to comfort when it all became a bit too much, or when Protection was so emotionally tired they broke down and cried.

• Likewise, Protection knew Instinct too well to always be there to hug and hold closely when they felt so abandoned and alone, even confessing to them once they wish they could stop the impulses but it hurts them physically to do so, and Instinct showed them their scars.

• Protection protects and stays up often at night in the real world to protect from monsters in the closet and to hold the 'Thomas' tightly when they got too scared. They live off of coffee and redbull.

• Once didn't sleep for almost two weeks for a cram finals session, and Instinct had to help them recover.

• Cannot watch horror movies, and usually gets overly anxious and worried walking home alone at night, especially in the city.

@pastel-candies - Inner Strength (Light Side)

• Inner Strength represents Hope, and Strength to keep going when things get hard, as well as Positivity and a co-gatekeeper of emotions, the other being Inner Child. But, while Child's emotions are more fuzzy and less prominant, Inner Strength's are more intense, leading them to get very emotional at times. Also they represent ignorance, pushing bad emotions or negative thoughts away, thinking they're just getting rid of them and not realizing they're repressing.

• Has plant powers that are tied to emotions, meaning if they're happy, plants will grow around them, if they're sad or angry or upset, they turn into not just killing plants but also slightly life sucking when every other side gets close.

• Is the slightly more 'moral' one than the rest in being the one to get scared and think Instinct and Protection are being more hurtful than helpful and kick them out.

• Has their own little garden with a specific flower in their room that isn't fazed with her emotions, being infused with all the emotions that were too intense to handle, good and bad. They talk to the flower and vent when things get tricky.

• When the 'Thomas' is upset, Strength usually works with Protection sometimes when things get really low, but mostly the two switch off depending on the situation.

• Lately is having regrets and confusion over kicking the other two out, but doesn't know if inviting them back will hurt the 'Thomas'

• Is protective of Passion, Reason, and Inner Child and will do anything to make sure they're safe.

• I imagine them wearing a flower crown, I dunno-

@the-duke-of-deodorant - Reason (Light Side)

• Reason represents and helps with the process of memory and new information, as well as the leader in solving any problems, math or otherwise.

• Reason values the truth above all else and makes sure the 'Thomas' knows the truth of any situation, despite and emotions they have at the moment, leaving them and Strength to butt heads a lot.

• I picture them with a black and white checkered tie...

• Geeks/Nerds out with Passion about Star Wars, Star Trek, etc. They often binge watch many movies and shows, and.. Even have their own code?

• Tries to be there during the emotional fallout Strength gets in, and usually is talking through their door, sometimes Strength's hand sneaks out when the door opens a bit for Reason to grab.

• Teaches Child about the world, leading them to grow into a pretty stable teenager, and the two share a very familial bond.

• Doesn't really understand the whole fear of Dark Sides and visits sometimes, even once helping out Protection during their burnout.

• Is prepared - always has a first aid kit handy and helped Raccoon Instinct when they got a nail stuck in their paw and couldn't transform back.

@antisocialdragonenby - Imagination (In the Middle)

• Imagination is the main gatekeeper of all dreams and daydreams, and has complete creative control in the Creative scape, making anything they imagine in their mind come to life there.

• Could have been ruler of the Creative scape but turned it down, claiming it wasn't their style. Instead they live in a treehouse and chill.

• Probably the most calm in a crisis.

• Out of the Creative scape, they have a cloud they ride on and use for many things - spying on others, viewing past dreams, and viewing made up scenarios or dream scenarios they have, as well as just a hammock to nap on.

• Is well trained with their powers, and uses their imaginative strength to fight nightmares in the dreams that seem to be finding their ways in randomly.

• Is usually the one to go to for advice or just to rant to, closely followed by Reason. This is how they find out about everyone's problems, fears, and turmoil - like how Protection thought they were the ones who caused the nightmares, and Imagination calmly explained that it had nothing to do with them, that they just appear, and that it's their job to help.

• They're fun to hang around and go on adventures with. They like specifically going on adventures with Child, but will tag along with Passion and Instinct from time to time

And finally, @if-i-had-a-spoon - Inner Child (Light Side)

• Inner Child repesents your childish side, as well as childhood memories and emotions. They're the only and first side to grow up from a child when the 'Thomas' is a teen, to a teen when the 'Thomas' is a adult. As a result they're babied sometimes and always treated as the youngest.

• They love looking at older memories and remebering them, although they panicked, figuring out the memories faded as they got older.

• Always a fan of candy, and squeals at cute pet and baby clothes, even making small accessories and gifts for Raccoon Instinct, whom they called 'The trash gremlin' when they were a toddler, and for Cat Passion, whom they just called 'Pretty'.

• Always tries to hold onto stuff from childhood, especially the "Thomas" 's old teddy bear, which they have a copy of for comfort.

• Now, as a teen, they love to write poetry and draw little baby animal sketches, and listen to MCR.

• Responsible for reminencing during random times.

• Although they look young, they're just as capable and smart as the others, fighting for the 'Thomas' to be truly happy, and to be there for everyone, light or dark side.

• I picture them with light purple headphones...

And that's everyone! I hope you guys like them!

[undercoveravenger]

The Boy with the Pac-Man Tattoo

Original request: "Could i request a micheal x reader where Michael thinks the reader hates him because the reader is always glaring or staring at him but in actuality the readers just looking at him so he can draw Michael. One Day by accident the reader submits the drawing and it gets shown to a whole school and the reader gets embarrassed and runs off then Michael goes to comfort him."

A/N: To the anon who requested this: you are my absolute favorite! I love this boy so much, you have no idea. I don't care if my blog ever says requests are closed, I will always accept writing for him ❤

__________________________________________________________

"He's doing it again," Michael groused, keeping his head down as he pretended to work on an English assignment. 

"I'm sure it's not that bad-" His best friend started as he perked up beside Michael, looking around less-than-subtly to catch the supposed culprit. "Yeah, no, he's definitely staring at you like he wants you dead," Jeremy amended unhelpfully.

Michael groaned quietly, glancing toward the right side of the room again to see if he was still being watched.

Yep, same (h/c) hair, same red leather-bound notebook, same (e/c) eyes narrowed at him intensely. Their eye contact broke when you looked back down at your notebook, scribbling away at it in the same way you always did.

"What do you think he's writing?" Jeremy's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

Michael shrugged, beginning to pack up his things as the bell rang. "Probably different ways to murder me and make it look like an accident," he replied, waiting for his friend before heading for the door. "You and I both know he's hated me since we met."

The brunet winced as he collided with someone just before he could leave the room, the force knocking both he and his attacker to the ground. "Shit, I'm so sorry man-" he started, eyes widening when they met those belonging to the boy who'd been glaring at him all year.

"Watch where you're going," you growled, leaning forward to snatch up your journal from where it'd fallen before scrambling to your feet and disappearing into the crowded hallway.

Michael sighed, picking up his spilled things (and his what was left of his dignity) and standing back up. "Told you he hated me," he said simply, looking back at Jeremy.

Jeremy shrugged, shifting his backpack straps higher up on his shoulders. "Yeah, can't argue with that, I guess."

He shook it off, leading the way toward his beat-up PT Cruiser, knowing that both of them really needed a weekend of video games to take their minds off of the hell that is Middle Borough High School.

---------

"I really don't see why you won't just tell him you like him," Jake called, not even looking up from his phone as he spoke. He didn't really need to, after all, the three of you had had this conversation a million times.

"Yeah!" Rich chimed in from his place next to Jake, "It's not like he'd reject you! I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure that Mell's into the artsy type anyway."

You rolled your eyes, putting the last couple of touches on your latest drawing. "Not everyone has perfect track records of not getting rejected like you two do."

Rich rolled his eyes, setting aside the xBox controller and making his way over to you. "You see this?" He asked, pointing at your drawing, "For one thing, this is fucking amazing, for two, it's kind of pathetic."

"Hey!" you protested weakly.

Rich rolled his eyes, "You know I'm right; you can't talk to the guy, so instead you draw pictures of him."

You ducked your head, unable to argue.

"You do realize that if you actually talked to him-" Jake started, sitting up and twisting around to face you. 

"You guys could be fucking by now!" Rich interrupted, waving his hands in the air over dramatically.

Jake blinked, staring at Rich for a second like he couldn't believe he'd just said that aloud. "I was going to say that maybe you could date him instead of just staring at him from a distance."

"Whatever," was all you could muster, visibly perking up when you heard the doorbell ring downstairs. "Would you look at that, an excuse to stop talking about this," you said sarcastically, turning on your heel and making your escape.

Rich waited until he heard your footsteps on the main floor before launching himself at your desk. He was methodical, pawing through drawers until he found what he was looking for.

"Rich, bro-" Jake was understandably confused, "What the hell are you doing?"

Rich turned around, your red leather-bound sketchbook in his hands. "I thought it was about time that they get their asses in gear."

"You know he doesn't like people touching that," Jake's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "What are you planning?"

The shorter male grinned, flipping through the book until he found one of his favorite portraits that you'd done of Michael before carefully extracting it from the binding. "Figured my buddy's art was good enough to be on display at the art show, don't you think?"

---------

The Middle Borough High School Art Show was one of the highlights of the school year for many students. It wasn't necessarily that they liked the art, but it was hard to dislike an event that resulted in classes getting postponed. Most of your peers ended up trying to sneak away with someone to hook up or sneak in a quick smoke behind the bleachers. 

Normally you enjoyed the art show just as much as the next guy, but this year you were a little preoccupied. First a few of your drawings had gone missing, then Rich and Jake started acting strange. Hell, one of them had latched onto each of your arms and were steering you down the school hallways purposefully.

They finally began to slow down when the three of you approached the end of the hall near the auditorium where a large crowd was gathered around one of the art pieces. Your heart stopped in your chest when Rich shouldered his way closer to the front, dragging you with him, until you could actually see what everyone was looking at.

Michael couldn't believe his eyes. Sure, the artwork had been blown up to about ten times the original size, thus losing some of the details, but it was all there. The shading of the leaves and placement of the tree branches perfectly matched those of his memories, the sunny sky paling in comparison to the glow surrounding the focus point of the piece.

The massive drawing focused on a young man as he stood under a looming maple tree. He faced away from the viewer with one hand holding a phone, head tipped down toward it, and the other arm hanging casually at his side. Even he was turned the other way, he was still drawn in such a familiar way that it felt like it didn't matter if you couldn't see his face.

Somehow, the artist had managed to make him blend into his surroundings and stand apart from them at the same time. Worn red fabric came across looking well-loved and warm and individual pen strokes made the polar bear on the back of his hoodie look soft enough to touch, while the mountain range at the base still looked jagged and harsh.

His hair looked wind-tousled and his headphones looked like they actually held weight where they were tucked over his ears. His skin was exactly the shade it was in real life, down to the way the light brushed over the Pac-Man tattoo on the subject's forearm, perfectly mirroring the one on Michael's own.

Really, it was undeniable that the drawing had been based off of Michael. Hell, if he'd had a photo of him standing and waiting for Jeremy after school, he was half-convinced that the artwork would be more accurate.

Michael was further surprised when his gaze drifted lower and he noticed the artist's name printed on a sheet of paper hung below the art. He twisted, turning to look at the faces around him. He paused as his eyes locked onto you. 

You looked… sick. It seemed like the very existence of your artwork on that wall made you feel like you wanted to vanish, and the expression only worsened as your gaze locked with his.

As Michael watched, you tore yourself away from Rich and Jake, ducking your head and curling in on yourself as you turned tail and disappeared into the crowd.

Michael didn't even have to stop and think before he took off after you.

---------

When Michael finally found you, it was under the same tree as the one in your drawing and he was struck by the irony for a moment. Eventually he forced himself to move, settling himself on the ground beside you as he tried to think of what to say.

It was you that finally broke the oppressive silence. "I'm sorry," you said.

It was then that Michael noticed how small you seemed in that moment. As one of the three most popular guys in school, you'd always seemed to emanate confidence- you were untouchable. But now, as you sat there with your head down and your shoulders hunched, he was struck by the fact that you were just as human as anyone else. "Why would you need to be sorry?"

"Isn't it a little, I dunno, creepy?" You laughed humorlessly, "For me to have been drawing you without your permission?"

Michael thought for a minute, trying to come up with an appropriate reply. He ended up shrugging, "I mean, it's better than thinking you were out to murder me."

That got a real laugh out of you and Michael couldn't help but grin in response. "No," you said once your laughter had subsided, "That's not something you'll need to worry about." Your grin faded a little, "Neither is the drawing thing," you amended, picking up the little red notebook that Michael had always seen you with and turning it over in your hands for a moment before holding it out to him. "I- uh, I won't draw you anymore and I figured that since you're in them, they technically belong to you."

Michael took the book from you slowly, fingers lingering on the worn leather and thumb brushing absently at a tear along the side. He lifted the cover slowly, gaze taking reverently at every drawing he uncovered, each one seeming to rewrite a little of what he'd thought he known about you. Each drawing unearthed something you treasured, whether it was a portrait of him (he couldn't help but blush at the sheer number of them, let alone the quality) or a quick sketch of a bird you'd seen and thought pretty.

He closed it after a few moments, nudging it against your thigh to get your attention. You turned back to him with a raised brow, clearly confused. "You aren't keeping it?"

"No," Michael replied, shaking his head slowly. "Who am I to keep an artist from his sketchbook, after all."

You still looked puzzled, "Really? I thought you'd be a lot less cool about this."

Michael shrugged, looking away with a flush on his cheeks, "It's kind of, I don't know, flattering, I guess? That you thought I was worth drawing."

"Worth drawing?" You mocked with a roll of your eyes, "If you were just worth drawing I would have done one and left it at that." You lifted the book pointedly, "I think you and I both know I've done a lot more than that."

The brunet chuckled, biting his lip as he tried to think of what to say. "You can, um, you can still draw me, if you want?"

You twisted around to look at him again, clearly shocked.

Michael raced to explain himself before you could say anything. "I mean, with me knowing about it this time, of course, but I thought- y'know, they're really good and with some better posing and me knowing not to move or make weird faces or something, then they could be really great and-" he cut himself off, face burning, and his hand twitched up to mess with the cord of his headphones the way he always did when he was nervous. 

You couldn't help but laugh, grinning fondly at the action you'd noticed in your time admiring him. You brought a hand up to catch Michael's, gently tugging his hand free of the cord and setting it back on his leg with a light squeeze. "You're in it for shared custody then, huh?" you teased, tapping a finger against the cover of the sketchbook. "You realize that means you'll have to deal with me more often, right?"

Michael's blush darkened and you ducked your head, "I… wouldn't be opposed?"

"Shared custody it is then." You grinned, laying back in the grass to look up at the clouds, content with enjoying the way your rocky day had turned out. Maybe this wasn't you asking him out, but it was a start.

Maybe by this time next year you'd be able to talk him into doing some nude modeling...

[lloydskywalkers]

So on the incredibly rare occasion that I do write romance, I have the ability to write one (1) single romance and that is all, and that’s Dumb Fools in Love. Which hopefully fits here, because it’s Glass Girl’s namesake day, so i gotta at least try for @speedythecat, it’s what she desERVES.

(happy valentines this is disgusting fluff anyways i love u speedy)

Lloyd likes the way construction paper sounds. It’s kind of therapeutic, the sound it makes as he drags the scissors through the middle. It’s even more satisfying when he uses them to start stabbing gaping holes through the paper, because he went and ruined the stupid heart shape again, and now he’s running out of pink and red construction paper that doesn’t look like he took a vicious katana to it and went crazy.

“Stupid scissors—”

He doesn’t know if Rain even likes pink or red that much, Lloyd reminds himself dismally, as he untangles his fingers from the scissors. Just that they’re thematically appropriate to the essence of the holiday, or whatever, and they apparently must’ve been the only two colors that existed when whoever came up with Valentine’s Day was around. He hasn’t even found actual purple in any of the little cards he’s seen, just some floral lavender.

Lloyd glances down to the pile of pink and red paper strewn across the table in front of him, then back to the instructions he’s printed out for himself. Then back to the paper.

Maybe he can just like, die instead.

Lloyd is about ninety percent sure that he can’t be the only person to ever look up “how to make Valentine’s Day cards” on the internet before, but it still feels like a crushing blow to his pride and an overall dumb move in general as he does.

But he’s only slightly desperate right now, and he really doesn’t want to reach fully desperate, so he’s willing to suck up his pride if it means not totally ruining his girlfriend’s hopes and dreams by giving her a sub-par and ultimately disappointing Valentine’s Day card that looks like he doesn’t even understand the holiday in the first place.

To be fair, though, he kinda doesn’t.

Like, Lloyd knows what Valentine’s Day is, obviously. He’s not an idiot. He’s just…never really participated in it…as a person. It seems like all the others have cute little stories of getting paper cut-outs and candy hearts in grade school (which he can get behind, if there’s candy), but Lloyd’s experience in grade school was general scorn toward anything love-related at all. Valentine’s Day was well out of the question. Lloyd didn’t even know it existed until he walked straight into a street stand that looked like red and pink had thrown up all over it, before being drowned in like, twenty-dozen bouquets of roses.

He’d been an awful brat of a child then, so at the time, he’d dealt with it by kicking the stand over and being totally grossed out. Now, however, he’s left wondering if those bouquets are worth the money, or if he should invest in the slightly bigger ones they sell over on the east side stands.

How the tables have turned, Lloyd sighs miserably to himself, struggling to peel another stubborn strip of glitter glue from his hand where it’s dried there, sparkling mockingly at him.  Finally digging the glue free, Lloyd brushes his hands off and glances down at his paper.

Go for handmade.

Well, that one’s easy, ‘cause there’s no way Lloyd’s physically bringing himself to walk into a store and buy Rain some cheesy card with a bunch of generic hearts on it. This, of course, leaves the problem that Lloyd now has to come up with the card, and the only thing that’s coming to mind are generic, cheesy hearts.

Hmm. Lloyd taps the edge of the table, humming beneath his breath. He can draw pretty well, but he’s not like, an artist. Not like Cole is, or anything. Lloyd is a lot better at cartoon characters and funny little caricatures of the others than he is, say, detailed roses or something.

Rain likes cats, right? he muses. He could draw a cat, and then maybe have it holding a heart, or something. That’d be kinda cute, maybe. And then he’d get to make some awful pun like “you’re paw-sitively purr-fect”—

Lloyd slams his head down on the table. Nope. This is why he’s not allowed to come up with the idea himself. He’s worse than all the awful grocery store cards put together.

Something in his nose tickles, and he sneezes, sending up sparkly dust all around him. Lloyd blinks, then bites back a moan. Belatedly, he realizes he’s just dunked his head in glitter dust.

It could’ve been the glue, he tries to comfort himself.

Figuring he’s already doomed, Lloyd makes peace with the fact that he’s just going to live the rest of his day resembling a blond disco ball, and lifts his head to return to task, squinting at what’s next on the list.

Make it personal.

Again, that one should be easy too, because it’s Rain. But what’s supposed to count as personal? Is it like, I-love-you personal, or here’s-a-reference-to-inside-joke-number-fifty-eight kind of personal? Should he do both? He and Rain have too many inside jokes, though, it’ll take him half the day to pick one, and he’s already running out of time. Rain’s supposed to be back at noon, and Lloyd does not have that kind of time to kill.

He drums his fingers against the table-top, staring at the outlined drawing of Rain his fingers have absently started sketching out, right next to his doodles of little cats and a mini-Overlord raging terror on the glitter glue scattered across the paper.

Lloyd frowns at the last one. Oops. Well, he can’t give her this now.

“Is that supposed to be the Overlord? You can’t give Rain that for Valentine’s Day.”

Lloyd jumps half a foot out of his chair and slams his knee into the table just so that his entire leg goes dead, his shriek of surprise strangling off as he chokes on the erupting cloud of glitter dust.

By the time he winds down coughing, wiping the reflexive tears from his eyes and glaring, Kai is just staring at him, mildly concerned and whole lot unimpressed.

“A little warning, please.”

“I’ve been standing here for five minutes, bud, it’s not my fault you’re in dreamland.” Kai glances down at the table-top of scattered construction paper and glitter dust, and his mouth trembles, like he’s holding back laughter. “Are you…trying to make a card, or mass-murdering our construction paper supply?”

Lloyd feels his cheeks go scarlet, and he sputters. “I’m not — no, I’m just—” He waves his hands in the air, wishing he could disappear. “Valentine’s Day,” he finally says, haplessly. “Rain. Card.”

“Ah,” Kai says, nodding. He eyes the butchered pile of paper. “It’s going…good, then?”

Lloyd buries his face in his hands, groaning. “I keep ruining it. I’ve never done Valentine’s Day before, Kai, this is a disaster. Rain’s gonna hate it.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” Kai says, sliding into the chair next to him, patting him on the shoulder. “Rain’ll be fine with…whatever…you end up making. It’s not that big a deal.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “I mean, it’s not like she’s going to get horribly upset because you butchered her favorite holiday and dump you for some chump with better taste.”

Lloyd freezes dead, his eyes widening. He has not yet considered this option. What if he does ruin Rain’s entire holiday with his awful gift? What if, by completely disrespecting her last name’s namesake — thing — she does get horribly upset and runs off with like, Ariya to the desert or something, and—

Kai blinks, then his eyes go wide. “Lloyd, wait — no, it was a joke, Lloyd, don’t get that look on your face — Nya!”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

And that’s how Lloyd ends up cornered by his entire team at the kitchen table, covered in glitter dust and currently living out his worst life as they try to decide the best way for him not to totally sabotage his love life in one go.

“Honestly, I never really got Valentine’s Day,” Kai remarks. “I didn’t get the whole grade school experience as much, since we homeschooled for the most part. It’s just a lot of hearts and chocolate and flowers and stuff, right?”

“Um, it’s a lot more than that,” Jay rolls his eyes. “It was classroom warfare. Your like, entire life status was measured by how many Valentines you’d get. It was totally lame,” he scowls.

“I dunno, I always got a whole lot,” Cole muses. “I could never figure out why, though. I wasn’t super popular, or anything...”

They all stare at Cole for a beat, where he stands haloed beneath the kitchen lights in all his wavy-haired glory.

“Hopeless,” Jay sighs.

“This isn’t grade school, though,” Nya says. “This is Lloyd’s actual relationship, which we are helping him with, so let’s hear actual helpful stuff, please.”

“Again,” Kai shrugs. “Flowers. Chocolate. Hearts. Bam, you’re good.”

“For crying out loud,” Jay groans. “How do magazines keep labeling you the smooth one.”

“Hold on, he’s got a point with the chocolate part,” Cole points out.

“Of course, you would choose that part to focus on,” Zane sighs.

“Guys, enough,” Nya cuts over them. “I said helpful stuff, not the most generic ideas ever. I mean, chocolate’s nice, but Lloyd’ll probably eat it all before it gets to Rain anyways—”

“I would not!” Lloyd protests.

“—and the card’s gonna be the focal point, so hearts are covered.” Nya glances down the pile of butchered construction paper in front of Lloyd, and winces. “We’ll, uh, help you with that part. But first, let’s plan.” She tugs a half-torn piece of construction paper toward her, uncapping a marker. “What all does Rain like, for starters?”

“Well,” Lloyd pauses, thinking. “She does like flowers, and — no, no I am not going to ask Lief for help, no way, not a chance.”

“Just a suggestion!” Jay throws his hands up in defense. “He’s her friend, though, so he’d probably have some ideas, y’know?”

“So. Not. Worth it.”

“Okay, okay, geez.”

Nya rolls her eyes, but scribbles ‘flowers — not from Lief’ on the paper anyways. “Good, but that’s still pretty standard stuff. Anything else a little more creative? Something that really says Rain to you.”

“She likes rocks,” Lloyd nods.

The marker squeaks violently on the paper, and Nya makes a dying sound in the back of her throat. Kai breaks into snickering, and Jay whacks him on the shoulder, giggling.

“There you go, bud, perfect Valentine’s gift. Give her a rock.”

“No,” Nya says firmly, glaring at Jay. She then turns the glare on Lloyd, who immediately shrinks lower in his seat. “Rocks, Lloyd, really — okay. Okay, do you know anything else she likes? That’s not rocks?”

“Uh, she likes…glass?” Lloyd says, weakly. “And um, seashells. And tea, and — she really does like rocks, I’m serious! Like, cool ones—“

“You are not giving Rain a rock for Valentine’s Day!”

“A cool rock!”

“That doesn’t make it any more acceptable!”

“Ughhh.” Lloyd slides down in his chair with a dying moan, throwing his arms over his face. “You ruin everything. She likes those little paper cranes, I guess. And, uh…”

“You,” Zane reminds him. “She likes you. Therefore, she will most likely love anything you give her, since it’s from you.”

Normally, Lloyd would just scoff at that, but Zane’s voice is so sincere it actually helps, a little. Lloyd sits up in his seat a bit, his crossed arms loosening. “Well…”

“Yeah! So why don’t you just draw her a cat that says like, ‘you’re purr-fect’, or something?” Jay suggests. “That sounds like you.”

Lloyd slams his head against the table, once again accidentally dunking himself in glitter dust. He can’t bring himself to care this time, because the whole world apparently just knows him for terrible puns.

“Stop being so melodramatic, you’re going to remind her of her brother,” Nya clips. Lloyd chokes on his tongue, and dissolves into a fit of manic sputtering as Kai claps him on the back, encouraging him to breathe.

“—was just a joke, Lloyd, don’t take her seriously.”

“—time and place, Nya, time and place—!”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It takes several disastrous attempts and more than a few marker wars — Kai in particular is sporting some spectacular pink sharpie marks along the side of his face, and Lloyd’s got streaking red marks across his forearms as the price for protecting his own face — but Lloyd end up with one brightly-colored, cursive-lettered Valentine’s card for Rain.

He’s feeling pretty confident in it, actually. It says everything he wants it to say, while looking pretty but dignified, and it’s only got one cat on it, so he’s — he’s pretty sure Rain will like it. A lot more than any of his other disastrous attempts, he assures himself. Now all he’s gotta do is grab the flowers Nya made him promise to get, and according to both Wikihow and his family, he’ll have the perfect Valentine. Armed with that knowledge, Lloyd strides confidently for the kitchen table to grab an envelope.

Only to freeze dead when he comes face-to-face with Rain, who’s bent over studying said disastrous attempts from earlier, that he’s left out in full view on the kitchen table like a complete moron.

Rain’s currently got one of his first attempts in her hands, her finger tracing the little design he’d drawn. Her hair’s down right now, all silvery and smooth and falling over her face, so he can’t see her expression.

Lloyd is highly considering running for the hills by like, hurling himself out the kitchen window, when Rain turns around, the end her nose still red from the outside cold, freckles standing out more than usual on her cheeks. Lloyd freezes in place.

She holds up one of the ruined cards. “Are all these...for me?”

Lloyd’s soul makes the executively wise decision to exit his body right then.

“They’re — I — no, they’re for, uh—”

Lloyd’s mind backfires. Shoot, he can’t say they’re for someone else, they’ve got ‘I love you’ and other sappy stuff all over them, what’s he supposed to do—

“They’re, uh, for my grandmother.”

Rain raises an eyebrow. “Your grandmother…named Rain,” she says slowly, reading the name that’s brightly plastered everywhere.

“Her name’s Rain too,” Lloyd tries, weakly.

Rain raises her other eyebrow. She wordlessly holds up one of the cards, pointing to where “Rain Allira Valentine” is highlighted. Lloyd mentally makes a note to murder Kai later as her finger slides down to the “Mr. Rain Valentine” right below, her lips trembling as she tries to hold back a snicker.

“Um.” At least she’s laughing, Lloyd tells himself. She hasn't run off to the desert yet. “I have a better one for you, I swear. Those are just — really, really bad first attempts, which you were never supposed to see, ever.”

Please forget they ever existed, is on the tip of his tongue, but Rain’s expressions softens, her eyes fond as she looks from the cards to him.

“I don’t know, these are…kinda sweet,” she admits, her cheeks going a bit pink.

“Oh,” Lloyd says, his own face heating. “That’s! That’s good, I guess. I mean, this new one’s — it’s a whole lot better, though, and uh…” He frantically rubs the back of his head, trying to get his brain back online and working properly again. Unfortunately, the action sends a tiny shower of sparkles raining from his hand, and Lloyd remembers in horror that he never got that glitter dust out.

Rain smirks, biting back a laugh. “Hold on,” she says, stepping in close. “You’ve got some — here.”

She pushes a hand through his hair, her fingers gently tangling through the thick blond strands before pulling away, leaving her fingers stained in glitter dust. She gives a tiny snicker, then brushes at his hair with her other hand, neatly sweeping a shower of glitter dust from it before carefully tousling his hair back in place.

“There,” she says. “Now you don’t look as much like a disco ball.”

“Maybe I wanted to look like a disco ball,” Lloyd says, petulantly. “Lloyd Disco Ball Garmadon, that’s me.”

“Then I’d have to make you another Valentine’s card,” Rain says, and Lloyd finally spots the envelope she’s been keeping behind her back. “Because I definitely messed up your middle name, if that’s the case.”

Lloyd blinks rapidly. “Wait, you got me one?”

Rain freezes, looking unsure. “Um…yes? That’s kind of…the point, right? You give Valentine’s to people you lo—like—um, love.”

Lloyd’s definitely red now. “I-I probably wouldn’t know,” he finally stammers. “Darkley’s wasn’t too big on Valentine’s.”

Lloyd immediately wants to hit himself, because Rain’s here being sweet and talking about love, and he’s bringing up Darkley’s like a motor-mouthed moron. And now Rain looks sad, and is it too late for Lloyd to pitch himself out the window—?

“Well, lucky for you, I know all about it,” Rain suddenly says, firmly. “You’ll just have to spend the day with me, so I can give you the run-down.”

“That I can do,” Lloyd grins brightly in relief.

“It’s a date, then,” Rain beams, before her smile hitches in laughter. “And you, um, you have more glitter. On your cheek.”

Lloyd wipes quickly at his face. “Oh, come on — did I get it?”

“No, now you’re just — okay, stop, I’ll get it, hold on.”

Rain steps nearer again, brushing her thumb across his cheek once, then again. “There,” she nods satisfied. She doesn’t move back, though, standing close enough that Lloyd can count her freckles, and see every shade of teal in her eyes. There’s a hint of a smile left on her face, and Lloyd swallows. This would probably be like, the perfect time to—

“For FSM’s sake, kiss her, you moron, she’s totally set you up for it—”

Kai’s voice cuts off in a strangled choking sound as Nya throttles him while both Rain and Lloyd go scarlet, and Lloyd makes another mental note to murder Kai a second time later.

“Wanna go out?” Lloyd suggests hastily, his face flaming. “The candy’s probably not gonna be on sale yet, but I bet we can get someone to cut us a deal.”

“Yes,” Rain nods fervently. “Let’s — out. Go out. Of here, sounds good.”

“Great,” Lloyd says, then snatches both their jackets from the hook before fleeing, Rain trailing behind him as they sprint past the others, stifling laughter as Lloyd desperately avoids making eye contact with anyone. Rain’s muffling giggles too, though, and Lloyd can’t help breathing out a laugh as he flings open the doors tumbling out into the chilly February weather.

“So, I have a question,” he says, as their footsteps fall into pace down the street. “What do you think of like, rocks as a present?”

“Hm, I don’t know. Is it like, a cool rock?”

“I mean, hypothetically? Yeah, a super cool rock.”

“Well, if it’s super cool. Then that’d be a good one, I guess.”

“I knew it—!”

[nishaapologist]

Dogmeat Me, Dogmeat You (Fallout 4, First Sentinel AU)

people have been asking and yes; both rookie AND sarah have a dogmeat, and of COURSE rookie takes their dogmeat with them to boston. what do they look like, a monster???

*

It’s as Sarah is staring very intently at an old and well-annotated map of Boston — drawn over countless times by various travellers, circling places of interest and scratching big Xs over pockets of deadly radiation or Radscorpion nests that sit atop neat typeface denoting another of Boston’s many attractions for Pre-War families — that Dogmeat starts hassling her for no good reason, prodding her snout under Sarah’s armpit as her owner leans over her desk in thought. She nudges her away gently, absently, murmuring not now as she tries to draw up some strategies for the next battery of missions she’s got planned for the Commonwealth, but Dogmeat’s insistent, snuffling and poking and pushing until Sarah loses her train of thought for the third time, and she finally sighs and stands up, abandoning the idea for now to instead look down into her dog’s big brown eyes.

“You hungry, girl? Is that it?”

Dogmeat wags her tail so hard that her whole body wriggles with the motion, and when she nearly sweeps one of Rookie’s countless collectible bottles of Quantum off the nearest coffee table — waiting to be put into a bulletproof, rocket-proof, explosion-proof and just about nuke-proof container — Sarah curses and starts ushering her downstairs. “C’mon, g’won, down you go—”

Truth be told, Home Plate is a little too small for a fully-grown German Shepard, which is only made all the smaller when Sarah makes eye contact with Old Dogmeat lying at the bottom of the stairs, Rookie’s ever-faithful cattledog now greying in the face. He doesn’t quite have the spring in his step that Sarah remembers him having a few years ago, but he’s a stubborn old bastard and Rookie loves him half to death, so Sarah expects him to be hanging around a few more years yet. If she’s being strictly honest, she’d never understood the appeal of having a hound by your side on the battlefield — dogs die so easily, and Sarah’s determination to save as many lives as possible is often tested by their presence — but now she’s got a dog of her own, and, well. Rookie’s just a little smug about it all.

Still, as soon as Sarah’s foot hits the last step on the stairs, he gets up to give Dogmeat a good sniffling before circling around her legs, and Sarah has a feeling this whole thing is a setup.

“Alright, alright,” she says, stepping gingerly over wayward paws. “You know, you could be annoying someone with a face much closer to your level—”

Old Dogmeat makes a gruff sort of woof in the back of his throat, and right in that same moment the front door opens, Rookie’s red cap poking through the gap before the rest of them follows, glancing down at both dogs before peering up to Sarah’s unamused face. They take a second of contemplation — backed by the sound of Dogmeat’s tail hitting the side of the door with a whud, whud, whud —  before cracking a grin as they put two and two together.

“Oh, man, they turned to you, huh? I told ‘em I was gonna go to Polly’s and pick up some meat, but apparently five minutes is on the long side of time for them.”

As they slide inside, there’s a wrapped parcel under one arm that both dogs look very interested in all of a sudden, and Rookie holds up above their head when Old Dogmeat snarts sniffing for it. “Ey, no! This isn’t all for you, fuckers, back off—”

Sarah snorts as she watches Rookie make for the kitchen, both Dogmeats hot on their heels. “I mean, don’t they say a year for humans is seven in dog years, or something? That means five minutes for them is, like…” Sarah does the maths, and she’s not ashamed to admit it takes quite a bit of finger-counting to get there. “Thirty-five minutes. You left them to starve for half a dog hour, Rookie. For shame.”

Rookie reaches the kitchen, slapping down the meat onto the wide countertop that Sarah had constructed out of scrap metal and a prayer, and Sarah laughs at the blank stare they look at her with. “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re on their side now? I heard what you said through the door, asshole, not to mention that look on your face.”

Sarah shrugs with an easy acceptance,  but anything else Rookie had to say is quickly derailed when Dogmeat jumps up to rest her impressive paws on the counter, her angled head now level with Rookie’s eyes, and they yelp, quick to tuck an elbow about her neck to bring her back down to the floor. “No! Counter is for humans, not dogs—”

Meanwhile, on their other side, Old Dogmeat pulls the same trick, nearly pushing Rookie right over to sniff at bloodsoaked newspapers, and Rookie’s face is shot through with betrayal.

“No! Down! I fed you guys this morning, why are you being so dramatic?!”

Sarah just folds her arms, content to watch the carnage as both Dogmeats hop up one after another— not even going after the meat, it seems, with their tails wagging in a way that suggests its playtime — and when Rookie finally looks back to Sarah, it’s with a long and childish whine.

“Saraaaaaah,” they whinge, one hand firmly around Dogmeat’s worn leather collar as they try (and fail) to haul her away. “Control your stupid dog!”

“You first,” she offers in return, but she relents after that, letting off a short whistle that sees Dogmeat settle in an instant, padding her way to Sarah’s side to receive a pat between her pointed ears. Rookie scowls, but a harsh command between their teeth also makes Old Dogmeat finally sit at their feet, smiling up at them with his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth, unapologetic as ever.

“God,” Rookie starts, reaching over to a small basin habitually filled with clean water and left on the side to wash their hands and dishes in, dipping their hands in to find a mottled bar of soap at the bottom. “That dog suits you so well, you know that? I look at her face and I swear she looks like you sometimes.”

Sarah raises an eyebrow, and very specifically doesn’t look to Dogmeat, just in case she sees Rookie’s point get proven before her very eyes. “How so?”

“Well, you know! Weren’t German Shepards, like, Pre-War police dogs? Military dogs?” Rookie cants their head in Dogmeat’s direction, who cants hers right back. “Look at her! Tough as Brahmin hide, obeys all your commands, and she obeys even when it’s just a whistle or whatever… is she reading your mind?”

Sarah shrugs again, though even she’s been surprised by Dogmeat’s sheer tenacity out on the field. Picking her up at Red Rocket had been a spur of the moment idea, if only because Sarah’s compulsive need to do the Right Thing had convinced her to try and find the mutt an owner on the way to Diamond City, but then Dogmeat had defended Sarah from a plethora of attacks and had warned her of many more, always returning to Sarah’s side when called and finding her plenty of supplies with the aid of a keen nose. By the time they’d reached the Wall, Sarah found that she just couldn’t bring herself to let the damn dog go, and despite going through hell and high water… well, Dogmeat’s a survivor. Sarah can relate.

“I dunno,” Sarah finally says after a long minute, reaching down to scratch at Dogmeat’s ears again. “Maybe I’m just a dog person.”

Rookie watches her carefully, screwing up their face like they’re trying to puzzle something out for a few seconds, and then they relax all at once with an airy laugh.

“They say that owners and dogs are super similar, don’t they?” they begin, and Sarah’s not sure where this is going until Rookie winks over their shoulder. “Makes sense they’re just as hard to kill and as much of a pain in the ass as you are, right?”

Sarah glares back, and all it takes is for her to give a single disapproving click of her tongue before Dogmeat goes barrelling across the room, leaping up onto Rookie to cover their face in licks and nips. Rookie splutters — getting a mouthful of dog tongue in the process — and stumbles backwards, nearly crashing right into Sarah’s table of gun parts as they wrestle with her dog. “Sarah! Sarah— ugh, gross, Sarah! Call her off!”

Instead of doing that, Sarah crouches down to pat Old Dogmeat’s flank when he turns to nose at her socks, and she watches with a smile as Rookie nearly gets dragged to the floor underneath seventy pounds of muscled hound. “What do you say, buddy?” she asks, and Old Dogmeat’s shining, heterochromatic eyes watch her with wonder. “Shall I call her off in five minutes, or ten?”

The answer is actually about thirty seconds, but that’s mostly because Dogmeat ends up sitting across Rookie’s chest, pinning them to the floor as they squirm about, trapped under her weight. Rookie calls for Old Dogmeat’s help (sicc em, boy!) but when he wanders over just to lie down on their legs, Sarah’s nigh helpless with laughter.

“Traitors!” Rookie wheezes, but Sarah can’t really tell what they’re saying when Dogmeat rolls over, and all their words are muffled into a double-coat of dog hair.

[marvelmadam08]

Girls Night In

Part of 100 Days of Marvel

Prompt 23: Chocolate and alcohol are a girl’s best friends, fuck diamonds.

Summary: What happens when the ladies of The Avengers get together and kick the boys out of the common room for the night? (Featuring Jennifer Fury from Uncle Fury)

Warnings: swearing, mature content (i.e. grown women conversation), mentions of sex, death, anger and grief.

A/N: I do not recognize the events of Endgame. 

~~~~~~

“Out!” Everyone in the room commanded

“But-” Bucky starts to protest

“You can’t just-” Scott argued

“Begone!” Hope cut him off

“This is my building!” Tony argues, Pepper cleared her throat “Our building, but you can’t just kick us all out.”

The guys started talking over each other, agreeing with Tony.

“Yeah, we can. The first rule of girls’ night is: no guys allowed.” Natasha threw an arm around your shoulder “Right (Y/N)?”

“Right.” you smirked

The elevator dings, drawing everyone’s attention. Gamora, Nebula, and Shuri strut into the room, Nebula thanking Shuri for her repairs and the upgrades. Behind them a slim black cat zoomed through the room before its mystifying green eyes land on you. It hopped in your lap, purring.

“The cat gets an invite?” Tony asked, offended 

“Relax Metal Mouth, Sir is my emotional support cat.” you cooed and scooped the cat into your arms “Aren’t you, silly kitty.”

“But he’s a boy cat.”

Jennifer fell back onto the couch with a large bowl of pretzel sticks in one hand, and a margarita secured in her other.

"Face it boys, you aren't gonna win this fight." She smiled "And don't you have like ninety-nine more floors to run around on?"

"But this floor has everything on it." Scott pouts, eyeing the pool table in front of the fully stocked bar. Thor's drinking buddy, and newly appointed Queen of Asgard, Brunnhilde, was already on her sixth drink, and showing no signs of slowing down.

"Which is exactly why, we're taking over for the night." Carol said from Tony's designated armchair

Tony opened his mouth to speak again when he was cut off by the super solider formerly known as Nomad.

"Guys, I say we let the ladies have the space for the night. Like Jen said we can use a different floor." The look he gave to his best friend didn't go unnoticed "Besides I think I'm gonna turn in a bit early tonight."

The dark haired soldier locked eyes with Steve for a brief moment on his way to the elevator. You looked to Natasha, wiggling your eyebrows.

"Fine, I'll let you ladies have your fun tonight." Tony gave in "Besides it's no fun if we can't poke fun at Steve. Let's go gents, there's a bar on twenty-fifth with my name on it."

Accepting defeat, the guys filed into the elevator, Bucky volunteering to take the stairs.

Shuri, Mantis, and Jennifer took over the TV, surprisingly agreeing on RuPaul’s Drag Race. Brunnhilde (a.k.a Valkyrie), Carol, Gamora and Nebula had all started a drinking game, and honestly you didn’t think the bar would have anything left after they got through with it. Nat, Hope, and Pepper drifted over to the pool table, Okoyke standing not too far away, mainly for Shuri’s protection, but still involving herself in light conversation. You caught Wanda up on everything that happened in the last five years, Sir curled up on your lap.

“So do you think Steve will finally come clean to Bucky tonight?” You asked her

“Fifty bucks says he’ll chicken out- again.” Natasha called out from across the room “It’s Steve, even with the beard and that ‘Your daughter calls me Daddy’ attitude, he’s still the king of waiting too long.”

“But he was gonna tell him before the snap.” Wanda pointed out “Fifty says he will.”

“Please, if anything Barnes will make the first move.” Pepper chuckled “Hundred says he does.”

“Do I hear a betting poll happening?” Jennifer turned her attention away from the TV “If so I’m in. A hundred on Barnes making the first move. It’s always the quiet ones you have to keep any eye out for.”

“She makes a good point.” Wanda agreed “It’s the quiet ones that always surprise you.”

“Which is exactly why my next boyfriend will be a mime.” Jennifer declared

“A mime?” several voices asked

“Yup, bright side he won’t mansplain everything. Downside is he won’t be able to say those four little words I long to hear.”

“Aw, is it will ‘you marry me’?” Mantis chewed on a pretzel stick

“No, it’s ‘Can I cum, Mistress’?”

Pepper nearly spit out her drink laughing, Wanda was red in the face but still smiling behind her own drink.

Sir purred approvingly.

The later it got, and the more everyone drank, the funnier and raunchier the conversations got. Okoyke eventually escorted Shuri out and up to her own room, even though Shuri assured her that there were worse things on the internet. Everyone gathered back towards the couch, having one conversation with five sidebars.

“Is it just pineapple that makes it taste good or is it fruit in general?” Hope asked the others

“It’s pineapple, papayas, citrus fruits, surprisingly bananas.” You listed the foods, Sir mewled “Yeah, you like bananas, don’t you Sir.”

“Why did you name him Sir?” Wanda reached over to pet him and he flinched away

“I dunno, I just called him that one day and it stuck.”

“Peppermint also helps.” Hope added to the previous topic “Scott swears by it.”

“Really?” Pepper raised an eyebrow

“I’m confused, why would you want it to taste better?” Nebula’s nose scrunched

“For the same reason you wait for the yaro root to ripen.” Gamora explained “But it’s the juice you get from it instead.”

“I see. Is that why you told Quill to drink the yaro root shake?”

“I love yaro root.” Carol drizzled chocolate sauce onto a marshmallow before shoving it in her mouth “And chocolate!”

She received several cheers in agreement.

“I don’t care what anyone says, chocolate and alcohol are a girl’s best friend, fuck diamonds.” Jennifer drank the last of her fourth margarita “Nat, is there more?”

“We’re not gonna have a repeat of Halloween are we?” Nat brushed Jennifer’s hair back

“No, I’m still co...here...clog.... I can still talk.”

“Water it is.” Nat stood to go grab a few water bottles

“So, Pepper, I heard that Tony is finally retiring.” Wanda spoke up

“Yeah, well sort of, he’s still gonna be around the tower. Possibly help rebuild the compound, but as for fighting.” she shook her head “I know he’s gonna miss it though, especially the post-battle sex.”

“The what?” Mantis gasped softly

“Post-battle sex, it’s basically when you’re adrenaline is still high, or you get closer to death than normal.” Hope explained “You come home and celebrate that you aren’t permanently, severely injured or dead.”

“Oh, and is this a normal human custom?”

“No, I think we’re the only nut jobs that get close to dying on a regular basis.” Natasha forced Jennifer to drink her water

“I remember, I had some amazing post-fight sex with Loki.” You admitted, you half notice when Sir’s ears twitch.

“You and Loki?” Brunnhilde nearly gagged “What the hell would possess you to do that?”

“Emotions run high, thoughts get thrown out the window. And you jump in bed with the closest demigod.” you shrug “I just can’t believe he’s been gone for five years.”

Wanda wrapped a reassuring arm around your shoulders.

“You haven’t been with anybody in five years?” Gamora asked

“I didn’t say that. Don’t get me wrong, Loki was great in bed, but an actual relationship was never the plan. He was too...”

“Sneaky? Underhanded? Murderous?” Pepper listed 

“And emotionally constipated, besides I actually met someone a few months ago.” you state proudly, Sir was now on his hind legs and pressing his paws to your face. “Stop that.”

 You moved Sir to the floor, and he did not like that. He clawed at your legs, begging for your attention. “Ow, what has gotten into you?”

“You might to get him spayed.” Carol suggested, Sir hissed before he ran behind the couch “And you never told us that you met someone.”

“I didn’t take it seriously at first, he doesn’t even know I’m and Avenger, but now that everything is back to normal I might go for it.” 

A green light emits from behind you. Mantis screams, several people scream actually. Natasha swore in Russian, and backed away from you. The vengeful voice that followed sent a chill down your spine.

“Over my dead body.” Loki seethed

“Loki? What the hell?” you jumped up from your seat “You’re alive?”

“You know what, I’ve fucking had it with cats!” Jennifer cried “It’s always something with them. Throwing up tesseracts, being aliens, changing into once dead demigods. I’m fucking over it.”

“But you died on the ship.” Brunnhilde stated

“Clearly I didn’t.” Loki looked to you “How could you say that stuff about me? What do you mean I’m not meant for a relationship?”

“You pretend to be dead for five years, and I’m the one in the wrong for calling you sneaky?” you jabbed an accusing finger at him “I can’t believe you were sitting here, listening to our private conversations and letting me go on about-”

“How fantastic I am in bed?” he smirked “I’m flattered, and no mortal will be able to replace me.”

“You jealous prick, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

“You’ve got help.” Natasha stood to her feet

The others followed and marched towards the retreating trickster.

“I’m sure we can come to some type of agreement here, ladies.”

“Get him.”

[cyberneticlagomorph]

> 🔴 cyberneticlagomorph is live on caster

Music plays over a cute screen of a cute doodle of Jack sitting on an upturned teacup, kicking his legs peacefully. His eyes are closed, tail thumping contentedly.

Jack's voice comes in clear over the music as the chat in the corner of the screen starts to become lively as people log in, "Right, ok so... I'm doing things a little-- well, a lot different tonight."

A pause, and the cheerful music stops.

The stream changes then, to Jack sitting in a very lush vivarium with plenty of climbing trees and ledges and places to hide, Jack himself is sitting on a lush cushion on the ground, a long cord snaking away from his back and curling around to the monitors in front of him. He's got a handheld camera, that much is obvious at least.

"Tonight's stream is sponsored by the Lobotomy Corporation! These guys are doing me a solid and keeping me under close observation while I game tonight, so hopefully nothing horrible will happen this time... god I hope I didn't just jinx myself." He makes a sour face, after a beat he clears his throat, "Anyway... let's get this started, yeah? The site went down for maintenance last night, so we probably won't have any problems this time... hopefully."

He's visibly uncomfortable, maybe even afraid. The camera cuts off and we are met with that familiar splash screen. Jack logs in, the loading screen that follows is a sketchy drawing of something vast and terrible reaching up and up and up in order to devour the sun, Jack finds himself reading the tooltip text aloud, "Sand fallen, sun consumed, the War was all for nothing, our stuffing is the only softness left in this world - Stitches 5:24"

A shudder seems to rip through the entire stream, a concentrated wave of unease.

For a lot while there is only a heavy silence until the game finally loads in.

Jack's avatar is outside the doll hospital again, rocking back and forth in a cute idle animation. He can finally see the town around him, brightly lit by lanterns full of green fireflies. The streets are made of obnoxious bowling alley carpet, and the grass is an assortment of fluffy shag rugs.

The town itself is full of players wandering here and there, going into shops, and chatting with each other. Someone flying on an obnoxiously pink cloud swoops low enough to nearly decapitate Jack, he barely has time to duck. The sky is normal again, dark purple with green stars, and that sad, jagged moon hanging limply in the sky.

For the first time, he can hear the background music and it sets him at ease. He wanders away from the hospital, looking for something to do.

The cloud flyer swoops back around and coasts next to Jack, low enough to make polite conversation, "Sorry about almost running you over like that, I just got this thing and I'm still learning how to drive it..." her avatar is almost as pink as her cloud, some sort of frilly undead opossum with a skeletal tail and toothy mouth where her sternum should be, "You ok? You look kind of lost."

"Oh, uh, it's fine!" Jack stops, unsure of where he even wants to go, "I'm new, I just got past the weird door tunnel monster like, yesterday."

"The Snarl, you mean?" The possum tilts her head, "I'm Keerah by the way, but yeah the big scary boss thing at the start of the game is called the Snarl, you're supposed to try and run from it but it always catches you and you end up in this damsel in distress situation and black out it's An Ordeal!"

Silence, "I just sorta... ran straight at it?" Jack laughs awkwardly and fiddles with his claws. Keerah gawks.

"No way?? No... way??? You can DO that??" She makes a disbelieving noise in the back of her throat, "Jeeze, that's probably what broke the game last night, you went full hero and confused it."

His head snaps up, "That can happen!?"

"No! No, I was just teasing, sorry." Keerah reaches over and pats Jack's paws, "The glitches have been a thing for awhile but they've never been this bad before, like sure sometimes an npc would lag out or something but never whatever the hell last night was." She shivers, "Hopefully maintenance fixed everything... so, where ya headed if you don't mind me asking?"

Jack just shrugs, trying to keep his mind off of the... everything, "Dunno, I'm like brand spanking new at all this, I don't even know what the main storyline is..."

"Oh that's because there really isn't one! Quests, plots, and character motivations all vary by server, so players have complete control over their play experience," she grins in a wistful kind of way, "Isn't it great?"

"Yeah... great... uh, where do I want to go if I want to take up a quest?" Might as well actually play the game instead of standing around, waiting to get spooked

Keerah points towards the massive Lego brick wall that seems to wrap around the entire town, "Head back towards the doll hospital and go north until you hit the barracks, you can't take any real quests until you learn how to fight, y'know how it is with these kinds of games..." she looks like she's turning to go at first but stops herself, "Oh! Before I forget, let's add each other as friends!"

She produces a cute pink coffin shaped smartphone and holds it out for Jack to take. There's a moment of awkward silence, "I don't... know how to do that yet."

"Just check your pockets, it's ok, this game really hates holding your hand when it comes to mechanics, everyone was a confused noob once in their life!" Keerah smiles again and the caster chat fills with heart emojis. Jack will now die for this complete stranger.

He finds his pockets, and his phone, along with the prescription bag he got from Ribbon. He hands it to Keerah and watches her enter her information into his contacts the same way one would do a normal phone.

Cool, not everything in here is ridiculous then.

The phones are swapped back and the two part ways.

The barracks aren't hard to find, a squat Lego brick building sprouting from the inside of the huge wall like a tumor.

It's dim inside, and crowded with new players sparring against each other. Some with swords, some with magic.

Others seem to bend the darkness to their will.

Another player let's out an ear splitting cry and sends their sparring partner flying through a nearby wall.

"Well... looks like I'm in the right place..." Jack muses. A mangled looking stuffed dog strides up to him, missing an eye and more patches than plush, his fur has been stained camo print and he looks deeply unpleasant to be around.

"You there!" He barks, the remaining fluff on his top lip looks like a droopy mustache, "What's your business here?"

"I came to train!" Jack barks right back, the old dog looks taken aback but just starts to laugh heartily.

"Well then, why didn't you say so! Welcome, new recruit to the first day of your new life in service to Haven and all those who live safe within her walls, my name is Sargent Barker and it's my job to whip limp ragdolls like you into shape!" Barker turns quick on his heel and marches away, "Come along now, we don't have all night."

Jack follows, his excitement evident in the way he wiggles, bouncing up into a rare binky. Barker stands before a wall covered in weapons, each polished so bright that Jack can see his reflection.

"Now then, I can't train you until I know what you want to be, so go ahead and pick whatever speaks to you, and we'll go from there." The old army dog stands aside, hands behind his back. He's wearing little polished black boots on his feet, that's not entirely important to the situation right now, but Jack things it's awful cute...

The wall glimmers with promise and dulls with the dust of heros past. Jack stands there, trying to decide, while the chat loses its entire mind trying to get him to pick the sick looking anime sword in the top right. His hand ghosts over the one thing that looks out of place, a bandaid with a smeared lipstick print on it. He looks at Barker, and the Sargent tilts his head, "Ah... the Ragged, toys that have been loved to death by their humans and are now more patches than fluff..." he clears his throat, "Not that I'd know anything about that! They're a peculiar class of folk, can heal themselves as well as their friends on the field of battle, and they know more than anyone how to strike down the Fears that plague mankind, would you like to be one of them?"

A pause. That didn't sound like him at all, he broke things, he didn't fix them! He was a manmade monster, not fucking Mercy! He opened his mouth to reply to Barker when the cheerful background music slammed to a literal screeching halt. The entire world seemed to bend and slant, like a cardboard box in a trash compactor. The npcs lost their textures, t-posing brokenly as their heads twitched and snapped back in ways that shouldn't be possible.

"Another glitch, hopefully it will pass." The fear in Jack's voice is evident, he can taste his own lies.

None of the players seem to be able to move, just standing there, helplessly watching as the world becomes flat and colorless. Textures and lighting melting away until there is nothing but the bare framework of the game all around them. Escape is impossible, any attempts to log out fills the screen with endless error messages.

Jack swore and screamed, but made no sound.

The ground beneath them all became a chasm yet again. That same impossibly black pit that stretched forever and ever.

Hands snaking up through the emptiness, grabbing players the way one plucks fruits from the vine.

Long and disfigured fingers with far too many joints wrapped around Jack, leaving him only slivers to see through.

Down.

Down.

Down.

The darkness swallowed him whole and the entire stream suddenly goes dark.

[splat-dragon]

She’d learned to trust her instincts.

 And something was very, very, wrong.

 Her bones itched more than they ached, and her blood boiled in a way it hadn’t in a very long time. Not for the first time that day, she heaved herself to her paws with a groan, and took to pacing again.

 Was tonight the night? Were the Pinkterons coming?

But it was storming outside, odd rumblings that rattled her bones and clattered her teeth together, sheets of rain that hit the roof hard enough to be loud even to her ears, and she was sure that they were not that foolish.

 She walked from one end of the room to the other, grumbling in discontent, her hips aching even as she kept her lame leg off the ground. “Gin, girl, c’mere,” Abigail beckoned, stooping down and sloshing around the bowl of stew she’d put down for her that morning to try and make it enticing. It was little more than broth, the meat so cooked through that it was all-but liquid so that she could eat it with dull and missing teeth, but like that morning it failed to draw her interest. Unease curdled her stomach, tore away any appetite she might have had. Something was wrong, and she wouldn’t be settled until she knew what it was.

 “Crazy dog,” she grumbled as she returned to her sewing, but her scent had soured some with concern.

 God, but she hurt, and for a moment she tried to lay down, to take some weight off of her joints, but agitation had her on her paws in moments. Thunder cracked, and she could feel it in her bones, aching and throbbing, and she couldn’t help but to whine, rising to hobble back and forth, back and forth.

 Oh, she wished John and Uncle were home. They’d left earlier in the day, and weren’t back yet. Something was going to happen, she could feel it deep in her bones, and the fact that they weren’t home yet made her fur stand on end.

“What’s wrong with Gin?”

 At least, though, Jack was home.

 The boy frowned at her, shifting his book to hold it in one hand, scratching between her ears with the other before slouching down on the couch. It felt so familiar, and something niggled at the back of her mind - she should know this. She shook her head irritably as though trying to cast away a fly; normally she’d do anything for a bit of affection, but she didn’t want to be distracted.

 “Dunno,” Abigail said, attention on her sewing, “she’s been like this all day. Maybe it’s the storm?”

 She scoffed at the thought—as if a storm could scare her! She doesn’t like thunder, sure, but she wasn’t afraid of a little storm.

 This, though, didn’t feel like a normal storm. It had been pouring all day, and the thunder was all around odd, didn’t sound right even to her ears, and the lightning looked strange through the window.

 “A little storm’s never bothered her before,” Jack frowned, flipping open his book and beginning to read.

The living room went quiet, broken only by Abigail’s murmuring, the clicking of her needles and the rasping of the pages of Jack’s book as he flipped them, engrossed in… whatever it was he was reading.

 God, did she miss reading. Sometimes he read aloud to her, but not nearly as much as he used to, and she missed it.

 Her ears pricked up and, although her hearing wasn't what it used to be, it was still good enough to pick up the sound of hoofbeats outside, thumping beneath rattling wagon wheels. She hoped it was John and Uncle, and it should be them, but it could have been anyone, even the Pinkertons and, with how the day had felt so far she wasn’t risking it, so she stumbled over to the window, feeling awful sorry for herself as she wobbled up onto the windowsill, struggling to balance on a leg and a half, squinting out into the storm.

Oh, she knew those horses! That Paint, Jack called her Beatrix after an author he liked, and that Appaloosa, John had named her Axle, and they made an odd pair but worked well together. And yes! There was John clambering out of the wagon but—where was Uncle?

 And why was this so familiar?

 Reassured that it was just John, she dropped from the windowsill with a groan, glad to take the weight off her hips. Still though, agitation rolled through her gut and she couldn’t help but to pace and pace, starting to frog hop, drawing her hindlegs together and stepping with them both at the same time - it hurt less.

‘Oh, John’ll kill you for that,’ she snorted as Jack kicked his feet up onto the couch, shoes and all. But Abigail saved him from a hiding, chastising him into putting his feet back down right before John stepped inside. She wagged her tail at him, then wagged it even harder when he agreed “Something funny’s going on out there.”

  “Thank you!” she whuffed, “Finally, someone with some sense!” and then she realized she’d said that John had sense and wondered if she’d lost her mind. He reached down to pet her, “Hey Gin,” stroking his hand down her spine and then between her hips.

 She squealed, a sharp pain shooting through them, and they buckled, sending her crashing to the ground. It was humiliating and, even as he said “Oh shit, (“Father!” “Is she alright?”) sorry Gin,” bringing his hands under her to scoop her back onto her feet, she hid her face in her paws.

She wobbled on her paws, hips feeling weak, praying that they didn’t give out on her again, that she could last through the end of the year, took a step and decided to lie down when they ached, hiding her muzzle between her forelegs. She still wanted to pace and pace and pace, but her hips wouldn’t allow it.

 “Damn Rufus’s gone crazy, wolves howlin’ and birds flyin’,” John grumbled, stooping to scratch that spot behind her ear apologetically before walking up behind Abigail, who dismissed it as ‘just the storm, John’ again.

 “Uncle make it back yet?” he asked, and she groaned, knowing that it’s not just that storm, dammit! and, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, wished that she could speak.

 She shoved him away, and Guinevere panted a laugh at the wounded expression on his face, though her words sobered her. “I thought he was with you, off drinking in the fields,” she’d been dozing when they’d left, so hadn’t known where they’d gone, and something about it struck her wrong, “I mean working, as you call it now.”

 There was a funny noise outside, and she raised her head from her paws to look at the window. Something moved, but the storm was pelting down so hard she couldn’t pick out much more than the movement itself, the rain so heavy it was little more than a curtain of grey. It was there and gone so fast, though, that maybe she imagined it?

 “No, he went into town a few hours ago, after we busted that hammer workin’ in the meadow.” John was kneeling, tossing wood into the fireplace from the sound of it, but her attention was still held by the window. What had that been?

 She startled, yelping when something wrapped around her, only to look up and find John carefully scooping her up. Abigail made a joke about Uncle waiting out the storm in a whorehouse as he set her down by the fireplace, and she stretched out with a groan and a thankful thwap of her tail, laying so she could stare out the window, basking in the heat that soaked into her bones.

There was that sound again!

 She jolted her head up, barely hearing John agree with her in a roundabout way, squinting: what was that? There was something resting on the window, brownish-grey, there and gone in a heartbeat and if she didn’t know there wasn’t a tree there she would have thought it a tree branch.

There was movement in the corner of her eye and she jumped, flinching, turning only to see Abigail getting to her feet. She snorted, sniffing the air, but the building was, admittedly, well-built and well-insulated and so the only smell was John, filthy and reeking of horse-sweat, and the offness of whatever Abigail had spent the day cooking.

 She walked away to work on cooking it and John slumped down into her chair, while Jack remained absorbed in his book. She paid half an ear’s worth of attention as she stared at the window, trying to figure out what she’d seen before, her fur standing on end. Something was very, very wrong, and how only John could feel it was baffling.

“What you readin’?” John asked, and she fought down a groan. Bless his heart, but he couldn’t bond with Jack to save his life. Bless him, really, but he was trying.

 “Just some book about monsters,” Jack grunted, and she frowned, feeling as though she’d heard this conversation before.

 There was an awkward silence, long enough that she turned her ears back to the window, slowly and carefully stretching out onto her side, keeping as much of her weight off of her hip as she could, until John finally said “Tell me about it,” and she grinned, “Good job John! That’s how you dad!” He was actually showing interest in something Jack was doing!

 “It’s kind of dumb,” Jack grunted, and she groaned, “Come on Jack, he’s giving you an olive branch! Stop being such a teenager!”

 And holy shit, John actually made a joke back at him, “Well that should suit me just fine,” and she couldn’t help but to laugh, huffing loudly.

 “Well, it’s all about in ancient times how Aztec warriors worshiped the sun but, during full moons, some of them worshiped the moon instead.”

 Her brain stuttered to a stop. Hold on, freeze frame, pause the movie. Did he say Aztec warriors?

 Oh, oh no. Now she knew where she’d heard this conversion before (“and upset the equilibrium of things.”)  There was no way, absolutely no way at all. She’d accept being turned into a dog. She’d accept time travel. She’d even accept falling into a different goddamn dimension.

 But zombies, no, zombies were too far! There was no such things as zombies, and there was no way she was in Undead Nightmare!

 No way, no how, never ever. She refused to accept it. She was weak, she was old, she couldn’t even protect herself from an angry bunny.

 What would she do if there were zombies of all things shambling around in a world where there was no respawning, only horrifically final Game Overs?

[zephyrises]

“Morning, Master!”

A light swing of the wicker basket in attendance serves as Ventus’s wave. It’s set in the grass as he kneels down to the grave marker, putting the assemblage of glossy yellow petals within on full display. Taking note of this, he glances between the blooms and the keyblade’s grip, leveling with the latter as if it were a set of eyes.

“Sorry. They’re not your favorites. It’s still a little too early for those—but buttercups are pretty too, aren’t they?”

The breeze picks up a bit, carrying the crisp smell of a nearby waterfall and tickling the boy’s nape. He crosses his legs, draws the mortuary wreath into his lap and, one by one, unravels the wilting flowers that he and Aqua had spruced it up with a week and a half ago, allowing his thoughts to flow freely all throughout.

“A bunch of things have been on my mind lately. I’m not sure where to start.” Fingers falter, resume their work in double time, then falter again. “I guess the biggie is… I wanna put on a happy face for Aqua and Terra. They’ve got fun plans for the day and I owe it to them to let ‘em know just how much I appreciate it and everything they do. It feels like there’s never been a time where they haven’t been looking out for me… but all I can think about is how scary it is that I’m gonna be taking my exam in a year.”

He laughs. It’s a weak, lackluster sound.

“Between you and me, I probably won’t be ready by then. Or ever.”

“You’re doing it again!”

Ventus’s hands recoil from the arrangement of wood and plantae, upper body twisting as he whips to identify the source of the echo. On cue, Chirithy makes their presence known, the puff of brightly colored smoke they generate dispersing completely by the time their pudgy little limbs make contact with the ground.

“Huh—wha—”

They heave a frustrated sigh, pointing straight at Ventus after it runs its course.

“Selling yourself short!”

The addressed’s mouth contorts into a deep frown, heat sprinting to the tips of his ears.

“Yeah, well… you’re doing that thing you do again!”

“Huh? What thing?”

“Listening in! And sneaking up on me!”

“Oh.” Chirthy shakes their head in apology, ears flopping with each motion. “Sorry. You never used to mind all that much, so…”

Those words wash over Ventus like a bucket of cool water over the head.

“No. It’s okay,” he’s quick to reassure, volume and posture backpedaling. “It’s gonna take some getting used to. That’s all.”

Neither comment on the fact that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this sort of exchange, nor that it’s been a hearty sum of months since they resumed being a part of one another's lives. It would be redundant. Instead, Ventus tries an encouraging smile and waves his old friend over, who responds in kind with a gravity defying hop and flourish.

Chirithy isn’t built for the precision work that the assembly of a wreath demands, but they’re still eager to be of some assistance, so Ventus tasks them with passing him leaves, flowers and stems in accordance with aesthetics and the obligation to conceal the frame beneath. In no time at all, they’ve settled into an easy rhythm that suits both of their paces.

Their progress is so palpable that they’re nearing completion not five minutes after they had gotten started, at which point Chirithy pipes up.

“This is a nice ritual,” they supply, their enthusiastic rocking and crescent shaped eyes catching Ventus’s gaze. “I’ve never done anything like it.”

“You—I mean, we—didn’t do stuff like this back when?”

“Nope. Spirits and their keyblade wielders… one day, they’d be there. Then, the next...” The silence lasts for mere moments, but it’s cavernous and aching all the same. “We mourned for our friends, sure, but nobody ever thought anything of it. Or to celebrate.”

There’s a great deal that could be drawn from that somber piece of knowledge. Ventus should be taking the necessary steps to digest some of it, or at the very least, endeavor to learn more. It’s rare for Chirithy to speak of the past of their own accord. Ordinarily, they’ll tighten their lips at the foggiest mention. Without a doubt, this is an opportunity to make the most of—and yet, the blonde allows himself to become preoccupied with the creature’s throwaway observation instead.

“Celebrate?” It’s repeated slowly, inflection reminiscent of one that might accompany a word sourced from a foreign tongue. “Is… that what you think this is? What I’m doing?”

“Sure! What else?” Chirithy pads closer, setting a paw over one of Ventus’s downturned palms and the wreath in turn. “This artifact, which you and your friends have made with your own hands… it’s so lively and colorful. And he was your Master, wasn’t he? It only makes sense that you’d want to keep his life in your memory. Flowers sure are a beautiful way to do it.”

It couldn’t be clearer that there’s been some sort of severe disconnect between the two. The boy’s emeralds have widened, still meeting Chirithy’s stare, but not seeing. Then, all at once, the tears come cascading down.

“Ven?! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. It’s just…” His shrill hiccup is the first of many. “I want to remember him—and I wa-want to do it fondly. I really, really do. But whenever somebody says his name, I’m never thinking about how much I miss him... o-or that I wish he was still around. I don’t miss him. N-Not like they do. I just... feel sc-scared. And angry. ‘Cause the very last time I saw him alive, he wanted me dead. He didn’t even give me a chance.” Clenched teeth sink and hide behind the knees Ventus draws to his chest. Master Eraqus’s wreath falls casualty to the abrupt movement, tipping from its already precarious position on his thigh and plopping onto the ground just aside. “So… I dunno if celebrating is something I can do. Not with my whole heart, anyway.”

His spirit companion remains silent, ears drooped despondently. Their paw has since moved to the small of his back.

“I’m sorry. For my heart not being in this. For being so different.” Another humorless huff of laughter. “It’s gotta be tough. You thought you were about to reunite with an old friend, but really, you were jumping into the arms of a total stranger.”

Intent on challenging that notion, Chirithy perks up, administering a faint pat to the boy’s bared skin.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ven. If you ask me, it’s a good thing that you’re a different person now.”

There’s a hasty intake of breath on Ventus’s part, a surefire sign that he convinced himself he could anticipate the essence of whatever Chirithy was about to say and fire off the cookie cutter response he had raring to go, but he cuts himself off the moment that reality and their actual sentiment catches up to him.

At a pace slower than a snail’s, he lowers his folded arms and lifts his head. It’s just enough to establish eye contact again.

“It is?”

The spirit bobs as confirmation, glee radiating from the subtleties of their expression and timbre entirely sincere.

“Mhmm! The Ven I used to know would’ve let anybody do him harm. He would’ve thought that he deserved it, too. So if you’re mad and think that what happened was wrong—and it was, by the way—then you’ve changed for the better.”

Unreservedly speechless, Ventus straightens his posture, capable of nothing other than that and goggling at Chirithy.

“And… admittedly, I probably should have picked and chose my words a bit better. I already knew that your relationship with your Master wasn’t the best.”

At that, the boy disentangles his limbs completely, appearing almost panicked.

“H-How? I’ve never...”

“From the moment we were separated, I’ve been watching over you,” they admit, floating up before Ventus in hopes that he’ll catch them—and he does. “Anyone could tell just by looking and listening. He was a step up from your last Master, but he still made you miserable. And after what he did to you… what he tried to do to you… who wouldn’t feel the way that you do?”

Once more, Ventus curls forward. This time, rather than collapsing in on himself, he embraces Chirithy.

“Then... there’s nothing else to say about it, is there?”

“Not unless you want there to be.”

He counts to ten, then backwards from ten, digits finding comfort in the texture of the other’s fur.

“I think I do. But not right now.”

“That’s okay too,” Chirithy coos, nuzzling against the side of his face. “After all, it is your special day. You should spend it how you want to.”

The air begins to move again, and time along with it. When they inevitably part, it’s only for the sake of bringing the wreath to completion. With it assembled, hung in its proper place and the now emptied basket’s handle stable on the crook of Ventus’s arm, he beckons to his friend once more. Just like the day of their reunion, Chirithy bounds straight for his chest.

Once they’re settled, the keyblade wielder bounces them in arms.

“Say, Chirithy—when’s your birthday?”

“Huh? Mine?” If they had the capacity to blink rapidly, this would be the perfect opportunity. “Spirits don’t have birthdays. We’re created, and then... that’s that.”

“Then we’re coming up with one! ASAP.” “W-We are?!”

“Yeah! ‘Course! Everybody needs a birthday, even if it’s not the one they’re s’posed to have.” Ventus  cradles Chirithy just a smidge tighter, grinning brilliantly as he falls into familiar step along the mountain path. “C’mon. Terra and Aqua are waiting. Let’s go ask ‘em how they picked mine!”

The spirit’s surprise fades, and in its place, happiness swells.

“O-Okay!”

[nelvana]

In which a warning is received

First [ARC 1]: In which the human is transformed First [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Next: In which preparations are made Previous: Intermission

Warning! This chapter has descriptions of burn wounds! Reader discretion is advised.

    “Tsuki, what are you doing just sitting out here?”

    Keahi’s question spoke over the muddled background bustle of the town, and earned zim a glance back from the recipient of the query. Beside zim stood Nelvana and Alex, who had come with the torchic out to Pokemon Square that morning. The three of them had been planning to do some more searching into the misbalance of the world, and had instead run into Tsuki laying down in the center of the square. Her gaze carried fatigue with it, expression neutral, but lax.

    “Did you sense something?” Alex added, glancing down at the absol and then up all around them.

    Tsuki nodded with a sigh, “someone important will be arriving here today.”

    “Someone important?” Keahi repeated, “can you tell who yet?”

    “Unfortunately, no. I still do not have the specifics. He will be injured though, so I want to be ready to help him when he arrives,” Tsuki explained, gesturing vaguely down beside her, where they could see she had collected a few bandages and oran berries, though not much. “I know he will come from the north, but I am not exactly sure where. He will make it here though, so here I will wait.”

    “He?” Alex questioned, “so you know that too, then?”

    Tsuki nodded again, this time without a verbal response to accompany it. She shifted her position slightly, her limbs becoming tired from remaining the same way for too long, but did not leave her spot on the ground.

    “How long have you been out here?” Keahi asked, concern lacing zir voice even more than before.

    “Hm… All morning, I believe. I came out here not long after our breakfast together,” Tsuki answered nonchalantly, turning her gaze back out towards the north of town.

    Keahi frowned and zir brows creased slightly, “Tsuki! You know, if you had asked, we could have come out to help. We wouldn’t mind taking shifts or something to make sure we didn’t miss him.”

    “You’re busy,” Tsuki simply stated, “I do not mind, this is my duty.”

    “Well, it’s our duty to look out for our friends!” Keahi huffed, puffing out zir chest slightly to push forward the point more.

    With that, zie plopped zirself right down to sitting beside Tsuki. The absol blinked over at the torchic with mild surprise, which only grew as Nelvana silently followed suit, and then Alex as well. Without a word discussed between the three of them in particular about this, they had all made the decision to join Tsuki here.

    “Do you not have something to do…?” Tsuki questioned quietly.

    “Yeah, well, we can get started here though. We were going to start with some brainstorming anyway, so the location doesn’t really matter,” Nelvana answered with a shrug.

    “Mhmm.” Alex nodded. “Besides, if this is important enough to get you to sit out here, there’s always the chance that it will be a lead to what we’re looking for anyway. You did say that he’s important.”

    Tsuki blinked at them again, before shaking her head at herself and chuckling softly. Again, she shifted her position, but this time it was to open herself up more towards her friends, accepting their choice simply through body language.

    “Very well then.” She sighed with a smile. “…thank you,” she added after a few moments.

    The four of them remained seated there as the morning continued to pass by. It didn’t take long for conversation to start up with Nelvana, Keahi, and Alex for their previously planned brainstorming, and while Tsuki did lend a comment every now and then, she was mostly silent. Brainstorming was slow anyway, with no one having much more facts than any previous time they had spoken about this. At this point, it was still mostly speculation and theories about the possibilities of what was happening with the world’s balance.

    As they just sat there in the middle of town, various other pokemon passing by would glance over at the group, though no one seemed willing to actually go up to question them. It seemed to be the general assumption that with the majority of Team Galaxy out here, they must know what they were in the middle of doing. Besides, while they were in the center of Pokemon Square, there was plenty of space to walk around them, so it wasn’t as if they were in the way.

    Eventually though, Tsuki’s head perked up again as she glanced towards the north. Nelvana turned to look mere seconds afterwards, as if she was about to look regardless if Tsuki did, and Alex wasn’t long behind, followed by Keahi once zie noted that they must all be looking at something important.

    Surely enough, it wasn’t that long after all their attention had been drawn that way before movement could actually be seen from the distance. Slowly, a spinda staggered down the path, swaying with each step. This wasn’t terrible unusual, since that species was known for their dizziness, but it didn’t take long for it to be clear that something was wrong here. As he came closer into view, this suspicion was only confirmed by the sight of his right arm. Dried blood and charred fur stuck out around a glaring burn wound, black and white between the blistering and charring of the skin. The smeared coating of oran and rawst berries laid over the injury, though already dry with he heat of the wound itself and with time. The distantly vile scent of this pain followed seeing it; familiar to those who had been present at Team Recovery’s retreat back to town from Magma Cavern weeks ago.

    Tsuki immediately stood up, drawing her collection of healing items closer to herself as she took a careful step towards the victim. The other three hastily stood up as well, all too shocked in the moment to figure exactly what would be the best approach right away. Alex, who had his own bag with him, gingerly reached into it without looking, doing a blind search inside for rawst berries; something Tsuki had not brought with her, but would be important for the situation at hand.

    Spinda continued dragging himself over, too focused in the action to really notice that he had been spotted yet. Finally though, his gaze wearily flitted over towards the group, exhaling with relief as it clicked in his mind that he had arrived to somewhere safer than where he had been before. This relief snapped back into alarm though as he spotted Alex, his eyes widening at the other pokemon as he forced himself to stagger closer.

    “Grovyle-“ he gasped with the familiarity of someone who had found someone he had been searching for.

    With that, unfortunately, exhaustion took its hold on him, and Spinda dropped to the ground, unconscious. Tsuki, predicting this, dove under him just in time to catch the smaller pokemon on her back. Shifting him gingerly there so that she could carry him more properly, Tsuki slowly stood up again, turning her gaze to her friends.

    “Should we take him to the base?” Tsuki asked, her eyes that had once been tired now wide open and alert.

    Keahi hesitated, and then shook zir head, “no, wait, I think… I think he should go to the café. Spinda might know more about what to do, just in case there’s something specific needed medically for their species that we don’t know about. I dunno…”

    No one objected to this right away, despite Keahi’s momentary hesitance; so, not wanting to waste any time, Tsuki began making her way towards Spinda and Gulpin’s Café. Nelvana reached down to gather up the items the absol had left behind, while Alex crouched over to where a hat laid, fallen off from Spinda’s head as he had fallen. Keahi glanced back at the other two, before hurrying to follow Tsuki and see where zie could help. The other two continued after the others as well, though Nelvana slowed for a moment to let Alex, who seemed uncharacteristically caught up in his own thoughts, catch up with her pace.

    “He called for me,” Alex mumbled, “he didn’t know my name, but he still knew me. I’ve never seen him before in my life though, so why would he be looking for me?”

    “I…. I really don’t know,” Nelvana sighed, adjusting her grip between all the items she was carrying. “Hopefully we’ll be able to ask later. Maybe it has to do with why Tsuki knew he would be important; maybe he has a message for us, for you.”

    “Maybe…”

    Quickening their pace, Nelvana and Alex managed to catch up with the other two just in time to shove open the doors to the café and enter the building. Before any of them could get a word in edgewise about what was going on, Spinda, who was at the counter as usual, stiffened from across the room.

    “Is that… oh, Arceus! Maurice!” Spinda cried out.

    Impressively, he leapt over the counter, scrambling over to Maurice, who was still being carried by Tsuki. He slowed his pace as he approached, hesitantly reaching out for his nephew as if he were certain this were a dream. As his paw met the fur of the other spinda, he let out a choked sob, doing his best to keep it all in and stay composed, without much luck.

    “Horace, wait!”

    Gulpin called out, hearing the cry of his partner, and soon came out as well after his own yell, making his way over to the rest of the group. The few customers in the café at that moment only silently watched on with shocked bewilderment.

    “Do you have a spare room we can treat him in,” Tsuki asked, though her tone suggested this to be less of a question as the wording may suggest.

    “I-“ Spinda withdrew his paw, shakily grabbing it in the other and holding it to his chest. “Yes, yes we do… It-It’s upstairs. Follow me.”

    Spinda, followed closely by Gulpin, stumbled back off towards another end of the room to a door that no one in Team Galaxy had really thought to ask about, assuming it to be some form of storage behind it. As Spinda opened the door though, it revealed a staircase heading upstairs. After opening up the way to the second floor, Spinda glanced back impatiently towards the quartet, hastily gesturing for them to continue following him as instructed.

    The group carefully made their way upstairs, which opened up as a hallway with several closed doors on each side. Spinda made his way to the closest door, and opened it up wide so that all of them could enter.

    It was a simple room, with just a cot, a small bedside table, and a chair in it. Paws shaking again, Spinda shoved the table and chair aside, the latter chattering against the floor roughly, and he gestured towards the bed with plenty of room around it. Tsuki followed the directions, crouching down beside the cot to gently roll Maurice onto it, on his back. She stared down at him for a moment after setting him down, before deciding to carefully tug off his bag and set it down on the floor beside the cot, and then nudge him into a more comfortable position before stepping back to give everyone else more space.

    Nelvana, realizing that she was the one with the medical supplies now and the best one to apply them anyway, approached the bedside. She delicately moved over to Maurice’s right arm to begin with her work, but hesitated under the anxious stare of Spinda. Gulpin, noticing this as well, gently rested a hand on Spinda’s leg and spoke up.

    “Maybe you should sit down for a moment, let them work on helping your nephew,” Gulpin suggested softly, glancing back at the fallen chair.

    “Oh, I-Yeah, I should… I… I probably… should,” Spinda replied unsteadily.

    Restlessly looking to help, Keahi hopped into the room from where zie stood with Alex and Tsuki in the doorway to pick up the chair and bring it closer to the pair so they would not have to do the work. Wordlessly, Spinda slumped into the chair, still staring over towards the cot. Gulpin nodded his silent thanks to the torchic before moving back to comforting his partner.

    As Keahi moved back towards the doorway, Alex handed the hat for zim to carry for a moment before going to help Nelvana with treating Maurice. With the two of them working, it didn’t take long for the wound to be treated and bandages to be properly applied to the spinda. Once they finished, they stepped away again, Alex taking the hat back, and glancing towards their teammates and then at the café pair to see what should be done next.

    “Do you know… what happened?” Spinda asked breathlessly, only glancing towards the team for a moment before focusing on his nephew again.

    Tsuki shook her head, “unfortunately we do not. He arrived into town like this, and Keahi suggested that we go to you for help,” she explained courtly.

    Keahi froze at being mentioned, worry crossing zir expression at the thought of Spinda or Gulpin being upset with zim for coming to them like this, but Spinda only nodded slowly.

    “We will have to ask when he wakes. If you’re impatient, there are reviver seeds, but I would recommend waiting for him to get up naturally,” Tsuki continued.

    “No, you’re right,” Spinda agreed, “thank you. For your help.”

    As they spoke, Alex examined Maurice’s hat that he was still holding. It was a simple adventurer’s hat, though the hat itself wasn’t what he was interested in, it was the feathers. One glimmered with the colors of the rainbow, and he could distantly feel the energy of something powerful. Ho-oh, he realized after more thought than he would have liked to admit. The other feather, which he turned his attention too after settling where the rainbow one came from, was a simple one of brown and white. He may have had an even harder time identifying it if he hadn’t become friends with a farfetch’d in recent times, and to his surprise, the scent matched Baguette’s as well.

    “Keahi,” Alex whispered to gain the torchic’s attention. “Contact the B Squadron.”

    “The B Squadron?” Keahi repeated, “how come?”

    Alex turned the hat to show zim the feather, “I think Maurice is Baguette’s partner he’s spoken of in the past. He’ll want to know about this. Maybe he’ll have more information on what might have led Maurice to… end up like this too.”

    “I’ll do it,” Tsuki spoke up, “I need to clear my head anyhow. Should I get the rest of our A Squadron as well?” she said, turning back towards the hallway.

    Keahi nodded, “yeah, that would be good, thank you Tsuki.”

    With only a brief nod of farewell, Tsuki fully exited the room and disappeared down the stairs. The remaining trio glanced at one another, shifting uncomfortably under the growing tension.

    “Er, maybe we should actually go too,” Keahi admitted, “unless there’s anything else we could do here?” zie added, directing the question back over to Gulpin and Spinda.

    While Spinda didn’t react much to Keahi’s words, Gulpin mulled over the question for a moment. He turned to look more around the room, before finally shaking his head towards the group.

    “I don’t believe so. Thank you for what you’ve done so far, I’ll contact you if anything comes up,” he responded.

    Alex let out a low hum of acknowledgement, nodding slowly as he turned over the hat one more time for any other clues. Just as he was about to go to hand it over to either Gulpin or Spinda, however, Nelvana, without even looking, subtlety blocked his movement with a foot. She slid her foot back out of the way once his action was stopped and his attention had, and she let out a reluctant sigh.

    “May I look at the hat, actually, for a moment first?” she requested.

    When she looked at him, it was with a steely gaze of determination. He didn’t even consider turning her down, understanding flickering over his own features, and he simply handed over the item to her. Though her words were strong, Nelvana still hesitated for a moment before taking the hat into both of her hands. At first, she simply stared down at it normally, though suddenly she hissed as she let in a sharp inhale, a white glow circling around her eyes. She just managed to pull the hat to cover her eyes before all movements went slack.

    The dimensional scream ability wasn’t controllable, or easy to predict, but as this was the only item aside from Maurice’s bag involved in this, as stated by Tsuki, important event, Nelvana had taken a gamble to get some more information. There had always been a chance that nothing would have happened, but despite her amnesia, Nelvana understood where visions usually attached themselves for her.

    As with the last time this ability had shown up, Alex casually wrapped an arm around his partner, pulling her closer to him while keeping an eye on Spinda and Gulpin to see if they noticed anything was up, which they didn’t seem to. Seeing this, Keahi hopped closer to the other too, leaning against the both of them to provide some comfort.

    It took more time than before, though not by much, for Nelvana to snap back to reality. Letting out a gasp, she stiffened abruptly, instinctively pushing away from her friends before she seemed to collect herself enough to keep letting them hold her.

    Alex’s expression softened, “Nel? What did…” He trailed off again, glancing back over at the pair in the room again.

    “I…” Nelvana swallowed her breath. “Okay, hat first, give that back now…”

    Breaking away from her partners without telling them anything else, Nelvana stepped back into the room to hand the hat over to Spinda. He blinked down at it through teary eyes, before meeting Nelvana’s gaze and then accepting the item.

    “Thank you…” Spinda murmured, “I’ll… make sure he gets it when-when he wakes back up.”

    Nelvana nodded silently, not waiting for any other words before turning away and making her way back to the doorway. She stepped out into the hallway, and once Keahi and Alex had followed her out, she closed the door behind them and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath.

    “What is it?” Keahi asked softly.

    “The Lake Guardians,” Nelvana gasped, looking up at Alex, who was already beginning to pale at just those first three words. “They’re after us again.”

First [ARC 1]: In which the human is transformed First [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Next: In which preparations are made Previous: Intermission

[pocket-monsters-precure]

Chapter 19: Unstable Genetics!? The Most Dangerous Nega-Evolution!

(The Nega-Mewtwo drawing I commissioned from a friend, Melianthe!)

Wish and Starlight caught a violent swing of Nega-Mewtwo’s massive tail, skidding back as they did so. The mutated creature snarled viciously, nega-energy misting from its clenched jaw.

 “For a bony skeletal weirdo, it’s got some strength behind it!” Starlight grunted in annoyance, only to yelp as the tail flipped upward, throwing them into the ceiling. Nega-Mewtwo hurled a storm of shadow balls after them, rumbling the mountain’s very foundations with its sheer ferocity. It began to emit a long, low growl, as the two Cures fell to the floor and hit it with hard thuds.

 “We’ve been at this for a while now….” Starlight grunted as she sat up, “And we’re already tired from the first fight!”

 “I hope Rotomi’s okay…” Wish rose to one knee…she was shaking. Nega-Mewtwo was leering back at her. “Why…why does he seem to single me out…? Even before this…”

 “Maybe it’s because your powers are from Mew? It’s a clone of Mew, and hates humans, so…maybe seeing a human with Mew’s powers is something really, I dunno…infuriating to it?” Starlight frowned; it occurred to her that Nega-Mewtwo hadn’t made a move in that span of time. Starlight lunged forward suddenly, catching Nega-Mewtwo’s incoming fist to shield the unprepared Wish.

 “Back off!” she shrieked, while Absol lunged and unleashed Faint Attack. Though the swift, darkness-coated strikes showed to be affecting the psychic-type, Nega-Mewtwo didn’t back down, instead attempting to swat away Absol; its now larger size, however, slowed its movements.  Starlight jumped back and landed beside Wish.

 “Come on, let’s combine powers, like you did with Sunrise!” Starlight held out her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Wish nodded and took her hand, as they reached their free hands forward. They each drew an arc of light in the air, then grasped each arc.

 “Scattered Wish Shoot!” They shouted, releasing their hands and making the motion of drawing a bow and firing arrows of light, swirling with pink energy. The arrows detonated against Nega-Mewtwo, causing it to stagger back, before it telekinetically broke off several stalactites and hurled them at the pair. The pair separated to protect themselves, as the mountain continued to shake with each powerful impact; when the dust settled, both girls were down to their knees, even closer to exhaustion.

 “Mewtwo’s legends always hailed it as one of the most powerful pokemon…” Wish panted, “How much longer are we gonna be able to hold on…?”

 Nega-Mewtwo began to slowly stomp toward them, unbridled malice in its eyes…

 PA-POW!

 Two powerful diving kicks struck Nega-Mewtwo, knocking it across the cavern as Sunrise and Willow landed nearby.

 “We made it in time…what a relief!” Willow sighed. Sunrise turned a bit to look at Wish and Starlight.

 “You guys take a rest,” Sunrise suggested, “We can continue this.”

 “I need a rest, too…” Rotomi dizzily floated up, before dropping into Wish’s outstretched hands.

 “Great work, Rotomi,” Starlight praised her softly. Sunrise turned back to Nega-Mewtwo, who was recovering from being stunned.

 “Don’t mind us…we’re just tagging in!”

 Nega-Mewtwo leered at the interlopers, digging its claws into the ground beneath it with minimal effort before swinging one in a wide arc at the pair; Sunrise caught it, hands sparking with electricity.

 “Wake-up Shock!” She shouted, forcing it to reel back as the jolt ran through it. A swirl of leaves twirled through the air, before sharpening and flying, cutting into the beast. A bell chimed in the air, as Willow’s Chronicle Bell slowed down time and she moved in to kick it in the chin, snapping its head upward.

 “I still feel bad fighting it,” Willow admitted as she stood back-to-back with Sunrise, “It’s a Nega-Evolution, but still, at its core it’s still a pokemon…sealed inside like that, probably terrified…I wonder if it can see out?”

 “I try not to think about it,” Sunrise replied, “We’re fighting to free it, and that’s what we’re gonna do.”

 Back with Starlight and Wish, Starlight was growing restless.

 “Break time’s over! Let’s go, Wish!” Starlight cried, rising to her feet and sprinting toward the others, Absol loyally following. Clefable pat Wish gently, as she got back to her feet. She watched the fight, Starlight joining in and firing off a shooting star at Nega-Mewtwo’s face, only for it to swat it away angrily.

 “You want a fight with the Precure,” Starlight declared, “You get to fight the whole team!  Come on, Wish!”

 Wish hesitated for only a moment, then nodded once, running toward the group, charging energy in both her hands. “Wish..Whimsy….!” she threw her hands forward, sending the two now-large orbs at Nega-Mewtwo. “Pop!” She clapped her hands together, the resulting explosion continuing to chip away at Nega-Mewtwo’s defenses and stamina. Both paws lunged forward to grab her, but Sunlight and Willow caught them.

 “I know you’re in there, you grump!” Starlight shouted, “You’re really gonna let Team Dysphoria make a puppet out of you!?”

 Nega-Mewtwo opened its maw, roaring directly in her face as she reached out, slamming a foot down on its lower jaw and grabbing the roof of its mouth with both hands.

 “You’re a powerful pokemon, alright…but that just made you a prime target for those creeps! You wanna make yourself useful!? Snap out of it and help the Precure!  The longer you stay like this, the more nega-energy that you’re feeding to them!”

 She pushed back, jumping away and joining the others; Sunrise and Willow released Nega-Mewtwo’s claws, as it suddenly pulled back, clutching at its head and angrily snarling.

 I…WiLl NoT bE EnSlAvEd…AgAiN!!!

 Its thoughts banged against the walls of their minds, distorted; fighting for supremacy.

 “Could it be you reached it!?” Rotomi floated over.

 “I figured it was worth a shot,” Starlight reasoned, “after Willow pointed out it might be able to see out, and I remembered how I reached Absol when she nega-evolved…and Guzma did the same thing with his Golisopod.”

 “While it’s struggling, we gotta act!” Sunrise turned to the others. “Let’s refresh it!”

 The group joined hands, as a new power seemed to flow through them. A righteous energy, as they put their hands together in the center, and a diamond of light formed beneath their feet…their finisher felt more energized than ever before.

 “Precure Quartet Refresh!”

 The diamond formed beneath Nega-Mewtwo and shot up, enveloping it and bathing the cavern in blinding light, scattering wild pokemon that had begun to creep out to watch the fight.

 When the light cleared, Mewtwo lay on the ground, its breathing heavy and raspy, eyes closed.

 “…we did it…!” Wish gasped, as the group jumped for joy and hugged. Rotomi zipped over to absorb the lingering nega-energy, then paused.

 “Hey, guys? It’s breathing kind of weird,” she called, “I don’t remember anyone who got nega-evolved being in this kinda shape when we saved them…”

 “…breathing weird?” Willow echoed as she walked over, kneeling by Mewtwo and putting her head to its chest.  She frowned.

 “The heartbeat sounds okay, but you’re right; that’s some really bad breathing trouble. It’s not even conscious…”

 “Is it…damage from when we fought it before it was nega-evolved?” Wish asked shakily, now wracked with worry.

 “I don’t know…but we can’t just leave it like this.”

 “Why don’t we take it to Dr. Pierce?” Sunrise asked, “She’s an expert on pokemon medicine, after all…maybe she can help?”

 “We’d have to warp it all the way to Unity Island from here…I’m sure Rotomi’s not able to handle that stress,” Starlight pointed out. “And if we try to take it out in the open, someone’s probably gonna see us with this fabled pokemon and ask questions…” “..why not just two of us?” Wish asked. “Rotomi could warp just Mewtwo and one of us directly to Dr. Pierce’s home, so we can explain what happened. The rest of us can take the ferry back.”

 “We can try that…” Rotomi agreed. “I think I can manage one more warp if it’s just one of you and Mewtwo.”

 “Wish, Starlight, one of you should go, since you were here from the beginning,” Willow reasoned. The pair looked between each other, and Starlight put a hand on Wish’s shoulder.

 “I’ll go,” Starlight said, “I know that thing freaks you out, and it seemed to really not like that you got your powers from Mew. Who knows what’ll happen if it wakes up before the rest of us get there?”

 Wish remained silent for a moment. Then, “No, it’s okay. I’ll go. I’ll have Dr. Pierce and Clefable with me, along with my other pokemon…I’ll be okay.”

 The other three looked to each other, sharing concerned glances. Then, Rotomi floated to Wish.

 “Alright…let’s do it.”

 ==

 She had been typing away at the computer for hours…researching, documenting, rearranging. Penumbra was asleep in Dr. Pierce’s lap, the umbreon’s ear twitching on occasion, as Hypno approached and placed a cup of tea on the desk.

 At the clicking of the ceramic on the wooden desk, Dr. Pierce finally looked over. “Oh…Hypno. Thank you. I left it in the microwave again, didn’t I?” She picked up the cup, noting it was still warm as she took a sip, and took off her glasses with her free hand, rubbing her eye with her knuckle. “I’ve been so swept up in all this Precure stuff my own work is starting to suffer. I need a balance…”

 A blip of pink light caught the corner of her eye. “…Rotomi’s warping here?” She looked over.

 CR-R-R-ASH!

 A blur of white and purple smashed into her coffee table, splitting it in two…Mewtwo lay there unconscious, as Fae and Rotomi landed beside it.

 “Dr. Pierce! Y-y-you have a patient!” Fae sputtered out. Dr. Pierce stared back, jaw dropped, while Penumbra had woken up in a panic and Hypno was waving its pendulum threateningly. Silence fell over the room, until the cup of tea slipped from Dr. Pierce’s hands and smashed on the floor.

 ……

 One hurried explanation later…

 “This is a lot to take in…” Dr. Pierce sighed, as Mewtwo lay on a small cot in the back room of Dr. Pierce’s home—a miniature medical lab, of sorts. The genetic creature’s breathing was still wheezy, and occasionally it shivered. “Help me strap it in.”

 “S-strap it in..!?” Fae gasped.

 “It’s just a precaution…we don’t know what it’s going to do when it wakes up,” Dr. Pierce replied, securing Mewtwo’s wrists. “So Mewtwo was nega-evolved while it was trying to challenge you!?”

 “Yes…” Fae looked down briefly, before anxiously moving to strap down Mewtwo’s ankles. “I don’t know what it was trying to prove…but it seemed especially hostile toward me. Naomi thinks it’s because I got my Cure Compact from Mew….I mean, it even pointed it out when it spoke to us. It said…it seemed weird that someone like me would be chosen….”

 “Could be a case of the clone feeling inadequate compared to the original…” Dr. Pierce put a stethoscope to its chest, “And since this guy was created to fight, it challenging you could be explained as it acting on instinct…”

 “Makes sense to me,” Rotomi huffed as she was flopped on a nearby desk, exhausted.

 “I…” Fae wrung her hands. “I…I don’t think it should just be explained away like that. Mewtwo seems really smart. It must have something it wants to prove, to challenge Precure like that…”

 “You may have a point,” Dr. Pierce nodded to her, smiling gently. “You know, Fae, you’re pretty nice…trying to understand Mewtwo’s side of the story.”

 “Ah-!” Fae stiffened up, blushing a little. “Well…all the things it was saying had logic to it…I guess I just don’t fully understand why it felt justified fighting us…is his condition because of the fight?  Or the nega-evolution? We’ve never had anyone in this bad of shape after a nega-evolution…”

 “Hmm…” Dr. Pierce watched Mewtwo shudder again. “It could be a mix. For one, it seems like it overworked itself and is both battered and tired. For another, Mewtwo’s body isn’t naturally occurring from centuries of existence, unlike other pokemon. Everything about it is something new and inorganic. It’s never faced something like nega-evolution before, and it’s unlike any other pokemon in existence, so it could almost be considered a type of anaphylaxis—“

 “Ana-what?”

 “—an allergic reaction. It’s a highly complex being right down to its DNA, so its body wasn’t quite sure what to do with the nega-evolution going on. Granted, this is all just a theory…it could very easily just be sick; after all, we don’t know what kid of natural immunities it might have or anything…but I’m digressing. I’d have to run some tests. There’s not enough information on its physical condition just yet for me to give a concrete answer.” She put a hand on Fae’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. You go get some rest and update the other girls. You can all come check on it tomorrow after classes.”

 “Okay…”

 “I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but don’t go around town saying that Mewtwo’s here.”

 “Y-yes, ma’am…!”

 ==

 “I still can’t believe we technically battled a legendary pokemon…” Naomi laid back in bed once Kailani and Fae had returned to the dorm; Asuka had taken a separate ferry back to Johto, as per usual.

 “It’s not a legendary!” Rotomi insisted from within the charging Cure Dex, “A legendary creature would be one that’s ingrained in folklore and legends!”

 “Oh, don’t argue semantics!” Naomi snapped back.

 “Are you alright, Fae?” Kailani asked gently.

 “Mm-hmm..” Fae nodded, hugging her pillow. “I just…feel so bad for it. It seemed to distrustful of humans, and so…full of anger.”

 “I don’t blame it,” Naomi replied, “Humans are the worst.”

 “I can understand where it’s coming from,” Kailani replied, “Created by humans who just wanted to make a fighting machine…what kind of life is that? Not one I’d wanna live.” She looked out the window. “Back in Alola, it’s ingrained in our culture to work alongside pokemon to achieve our goals. They’re not slaves or servants; they’re partners. The idea that someone would only see their pokemon as a tool to fight others, and create a living weapon to achieve that…it’s kinda alien to me.”

 “I mean, we fight pokemon in battles, but that’s just how it is…they’re our comrades,” Naomi mused, “Not tools. And definitely not slaves.”

 “…Naomi, if you had a pokemon that was clearly unhappy being captive,” Fae asked, “Would you let it go?”

 “Absolutely!” Naomi nodded firmly once. “Y’know that classic phrase, right? If you love it, let it go. I want my pokemon to be happy. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

 “Right!” Kailani agreed wholeheartedly. “Alright…we’ll all check on Mewtwo tomorrow. Maybe…he’ll even help us?”

 “Don’t get your hopes up too high, though,” Naomi muttered. The girls began to relax in their beds, while Kailani quietly stared up at the plastic stars she had placed on the ceiling above her.

 It was nothing like the beautiful night sky in Alola.

 ==

 “Hypno.” Hypno opened the door to let the girls in, closing it after them.

 “Doctor?” Fae called.

 “In the lab!” Dr. Pierce called.

 “Oh, my….” Asuka looked down to see Hypno had returned to its previous task—it had a broom and dustpan and was sweeping up broken glass.   There were cracks in some of the widows, and a few glasses had completely shattered.

 “What…happened here?” Fae wondered aloud, anxious.

 “Let’s go!” Naomi led the group in a hurried rush to the lab.  There, countless papers and binders were floating in midair, surrounding Mewtwo as its eyes darted from document to document. Dr. Pierce stood nearby, writing in a notebook while Penumbra watched it apprehensively.

 “Uh…what’s it doing?” Kailani asked, confused.

 “He. He asked for a male designation,” Dr. Pierce replied, “He’s going through gathered research and updating himself on the situation with the nega-evolutions…I’ve collected whatever I could access online and gathered up my personal notes for him. Isn’t it fascinating?”

 An annoyed grunt came from Mewtwo’s throat.

 “I mean, sure…” Naomi replied, “But what’s with the broken glass?”

 “Oh, that…well, when he woke up and realized he was restrained, he panicked a bit and had a small surge of psychic energy. But it seems he realized I wasn’t a threat and calmed down. Just a little outburst, that’s all.”

 “What do you mean, ‘that’s all?’” Naomi quirked an eyebrow. Fae watched quietly, then squeaked and flinched as Mewtwo glanced toward her. The papers floated back into a neat pile, as he turned to look at her.

 I will find out what my predecessor saw in you, he projected, but you may be at ease. I call a truce. If the Precure are what is necessary to stop this epidemic of nega-evolution, so be it. As for the doctor, she is…not as overzealous about my presence as I was expecting, so I suppose I am willing to work with her.

 “I’ll take compliments where I can get them,” Dr. Pierce shrugged.

 “This is actually pretty great,” Kailani reasoned, “We have a strong ally, and we can show Mewtwo that not all humans are bad, right?”

 “Hey, you’re right,” Asuka nodded. “But…what got him in such bad shape before, Doctor?”

 “I still don’t have a solid answer,” Dr. Pierce admitted, “But I gave him fluids and let him sleep and he seemed to recover based on that, so perhaps he was just exhausted.”

 “So this powerful pokemon got all tuckered out?” Rotomi huffed, only to get trapped in a psychic bubble and bounced around the room again. “AIEEE!”

 “…Oh, Rotomi,” Kailani sighed, catching her as the bubble popped. “Maybe it’s you who needs some manners…”

[whisker-biscuit]

Silent as the Grave: Chapter 1

Fandom: Sly Cooper

Summary: When Connor Cooper and his wife are found dead in their home, the result of a forced break-in and assault, Interpol is called in to find out who did it. The only witness is Cooper’s eight-year-old son, found in a closet with a full view of everything. Nobody is really sure what to do with the kid, but that’s just fine.Because young Sly Cooper doesn’t know what to do with himself either.

The first real thieving lesson Sly’s father ever taught him, when he was three years old, was how to be quiet. He’d thought this was dumb and not nearly as fun as robbing a bank, so he’d told his father exactly that. But instead of reprimanding his son, the elder Cooper only chuckled and sat him on his knee with the patience of a master parent.

“Silence is the language of thieves, kiddo,” he told him gently. “How can you rob a bank if everyone knows you’re coming? How can you steal someone’s wallet if he can hear you behind him? What do you do if he turns around?”

“Hit him,” Sly announced, chin held defiantly high. “Hit him and take it.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with McSweeney.”

“Nu-uh!”

Connor smiled at that. “Well, I suppose not. But if you were quiet, then he wouldn’t turn around at all, and then you wouldn’t have to hit him. Do you understand?”

Sly considered this point with solemnity only a toddler could manage. Then he blinked up at his father and nodded, mouth closed firmly.

“Good. Now it’s time for you to learn how to never make noise. Starting…NOW!”

Connor had taken this moment to grasp his son around the waist and suddenly lifted him high in the air above his head. Sly shrieked in delight and wriggled with his arms and legs. His tail flickered every which way as he collapsed into giggles.

“Come on kiddo, I thought you were going to be quiet!” His father was grinning up at him, hands steady as rocks.

“No fair, no fair,” Sly laughed, “Not ready!”

“Master thieves have to be ready for anything. If you get surprised or scared, and you make a lot of noise, then you get caught. I surprised you, but if you want to learn to be a master thief, you have to know when it’s okay to laugh and scream like that, alright?”

“Okay Daddy!”

“Good,” Connor brought his son down to his knee again. He grinned with all his teeth, and Sly mirrored the look with his own baby canines.

“Here we go.”

Five years later, Sly doesn’t remember much about that conversation except its most basic part; he has to be completely silent, right now, no matter what. Because that’s what master thieves do when they’re surprised, or scared, or hurting. That’s how they survive.

That’s how he will survive, in this little closet, as he watches his father get pinned down on their bloody living room carpet. As his mother’s horrible screaming from the dining room stops with three muffled bangs and a wet choke. As something bigger than anyone he’s ever seen taps iron claws against Connor’s back and flips him over.

Sly doesn’t make a sound as someone else breaks open the family safe and pulls out the Cooper family’s heritage, the Thievius Raccoonus. He doesn’t cry as the book is torn apart by five different sets of hands over his father’s struggling body.

Doesn’t scream when those talons decide his father shouldn’t struggle anymore.

All he does is stay still as a statue – don’t move kiddo, movement makes noise and we don’t want to be caught – as the five murderers leave just as swiftly as they came. He stays in that closet after that, not because he thinks they will come back, but because he knows now what death looks like, and if he steps out of his hiding place, he will have to acknowledge the reality of what has happened.

He’s not enough like his father to do that.

When the local police office gets the call about a night disturbance in a nearby suburban area, they’re mildly surprised. It’s always been a quiet neighborhood on the edge of town, and the most recent call from out there had been for an ailing older rabbit who needed a quick pick-up to the hospital. They’re even more surprised at the call’s contents.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I heard screaming next door!” The voice is almost hysterical. “And there was a big car in the street I’ve never seen before, and I saw, I saw something huge fly into the sky – it blocked out the moon!”

The operator gets their address and name immediately, and promptly sends two officers to go out while promising the distraught caller that everything will be fine and to expect someone to arrive to ask them a few questions in person.

“What do you think it is?” Fangmeyer asks as he opens the driver’s door, settling in behind the wheel.

“Dunno,” McHorn shrugs, squeezing into the passenger seat. They pull out of the station. “Might be a domestic disturbance, with the screaming. Someone probably had someone else come pick them up, if there was a strange car.”

“Yeah, sure, but what about the big flying thing? I’ve never heard of anything like that.” The tiger keeps his eyes on the road, on the lookout for street signs.

“Who knows. The caller probably psyched themselves out, you know how people get.” They both go silent for a moment and watch rows of houses pass by. “Don’t forget, it’s a blue house with gold trimmings. You got better night vision than me.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

They find the address of the caller with little trouble, then the house next door where the screaming supposedly took place. It’s a modest little home on the end of the street corner with a plastic swing set in the yard, colored just as McHorn described. Light spills through the front entrance, and the rhino cop assumes it must be one of those full-glass doors.

He starts to get out of the car but is stopped by a fuzzy paw on his shoulder. He turns to his partner, who is staring at the house with sudden intensity.

“McHorn, call in for backup.”

“What? Why?”

“The front door’s been ripped from its hinges.”

They call the station, backup is promised within five minutes, and the two officers step up to the doorway cautiously, on high alert. The door is lying on the floor just inside, and there’s immediate wreckage throughout the hallway. Hanging portraits have been smashed to the ground, littering broken glass everywhere. A coatrack is on its side with garments strewn about. A low bookcase along the wall has been overturned, its books scattered and torn.

The first room to the left seems to still have the lights on, so the two pull guns out of their holsters and sidle quietly over that way, peering in carefully. It’s the dining room.

There’s a raccoon, a woman, slumped on the ground against a chair leg with three bullet holes through her body. McHorn goes as rigid as a bowstring. Fangmeyer holds his paw to his mouth as bile threatens to come up his throat. They both rush up to her and the tiger checks her pulse. Nothing. One of them brings the radio up and manages to call in a 10-79 with a trembling voice.

This is when they see the next doorway leading to the living room.

And it’s here that they learn exactly whose house this belongs to, because the world-famous thief Connor Cooper is splayed out on the floor with his chest ripped open.

Fangmeyer can’t hold himself together any longer; he staggers to the farthest side of the room and retches, leaning against the doorframe of a coat closet. McHorn is about to call this in as well, to report that they’ve found the corpse of one of Interpol’s most wanted criminals, when he sees the tiger suddenly collapse to his knees.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“Fangmeyer, what is it? Did you find another body?”

His partner doesn’t respond except to shake his head without turning around. Instead he pulls open the closet door all the way, and the rhino forgets to breathe.

A child stares back at them with tear-stained fur and shell-shocked eyes.

After that, things move very quickly.

Backup arrives just in time to find two haunted officers coming out of the house. The tiger is green through his fur and staggers to the nearest cruiser to ask for water and a forensics team. The rhino behind him walks solemnly through the yard, carrying a raccoon kit who clutches a very recognizable cane to his chest and won’t look at anyone.

Within two minutes, the Police Chief orders the house to be sectioned off completely while they sort things out. Twenty minutes after that, he orders an evacuation of the whole street because curious neighbors and nosy townsfolk are drawing a crowd to gawk at this unusual occurrence. When a local news station pulls up just outside the evacuation zone, the chief calls for all present officers to declare an oath of silence until everything has been investigated thoroughly. Then the Force contacts Interpol.

Known only to the first few responders – and to the international detective they’re informing over the phone – is the presence of Cooper’s only child, who has been whisked to the nearest hospital in secret. He’s miraculously unharmed, but they keep him there, in a private room with an officer guard, for fear that whoever had it in for the Master Thief might come back to finish the job.

They don’t know his name or his age, but those are things easily found in records and birth certificates. What they’re really wondering is how he survived this horrific encounter, how he managed to sit in a little coat closet and not give himself away.

They won’t get this answer from him directly, but they’re getting an inkling of how it was possible anyway. Because Cooper’s son hasn’t said a word to anyone since he was found.

He hasn’t made any noise at all.

A/N: I'm very sorry. I'm not sorry. I don't know.

 This is probably going to be the worst chapter as far as violence goes, but I'm not making any promises. But here we are, the real kick-off of Sly's story. I'm super excited to get to Bentley and Murray, but there are a few other things that have to happen first. Interpol has yet to actually arrive, after all.

Thanks for reading!

[dreamworksworddump]

Pavlov’s dogs part 3

Lance ties his hair into a small ponytail at the back of his neck, and then settles into a defensive position; legs spread slightly, knees bent, his hands raised to guard his face. His body is not tensed, but held loosely, like a dancer about to break into movement. A small smile graces his lips, something about it mischievous, like it’s on the verge of turning into a smirk. There is nothing about this that Pidge hasn’t seen before, but there must be something, because why else would seeing him like this make her suddenly feel so hot?

Her ears and cheeks feel flushed, more so than a simple bout of cardio should be cause for. There’s a feeling in the depths of her stomach like the start of a fire- warm, and yearning. Pidge swallows uncomfortably, and takes a deep breath. Lance waits for Keith to make his move.

Behind her eyelids, she sees the highlights of the past few months flash before her; skin against skin, the feeling of something more than friendship, and there- it’s almost so obvious that she wants to kick herself for not noticing it sooner. Lance’s hair has grown longer since they’ve been away from Earth, and while Allura keeps Pidge’s hair at the same length, Lance hasn’t cut it at all. Instead he’s taken to tying it back when it gets in the way, like when they’re about to engage in- blood pulses in her ears as Lance laughs, breezily avoiding Keith’s uppercut like a leaf on the wind- when they’re about to have sex.

Keith’s lips curl into something like a grimace as he falls back. His strengths lie in his brawn, usually underestimated by his opponents, and in his ability to sniff out his opponent’s weaknesses, and go after them relentlessly. That’s great in life or death fight, which more often than not, is what Voltron is up against. But in a sparring match against a friend, or against someone that he need to disable rather than kill, it leads to hesitation. Lance isn’t a defensive fighter, but he does know the value of waiting to attack rather than rushing in. He likes to draw out his opponents strength by taunting him, and running out his endurance, and due to his years of dancing instruction, he has the agility to do so, remaining just tantalizingly out of reach until he feels that it is time to strike. However, he has a lack of long term strategy, and usually falls back on the same patterns over and over again, making it easy for an attentive opponent to figure him out. Against each other, Keith and Lance are pretty well-matched, and it is hard to tell who will come out on top when they go head to head.

Pidge keeps focusing on the wrong things; Lance’s face, the swell of his biceps, the rippling of his lithe muscles beneath his shirt. She should be paying attention to his technique, to his evasive maneuvers and Keith’s answering aggression, not the things that look visually appealing. She knows what she should be thinking about, but it’s like the correct thoughts are just out of reach. Her eyes keep drifting to the little ponytail, and that mischievous grin no matter how hard she tries to concentrate elsewhere.

Her thighs clench together, and she struggles not to squirm as a small wave of pleasure runs through her.

Lance waits for Keith to charge him, and side steps his attack. He attempts to elbow him in his back to force him to the ground, but Keith takes the strike as he turns around, violet eyes burning above his gloved fists. Lance steps lightly, shifting from foot to foot, as Keith jabs at him- uppercut, left swing, right swing- that grin of his remaining in place the whole time.

He grins as he leans over her, all length and lanky muscle, his eyes shifting from her exposed chest, to her blushing face. Lance winks, and he shifts down under the covers, nudges her knees apart, and then suddenly there is-

“Are you okay?” Hunk whispers behind a cupped hand. “You look really red.”

“I’m fine.” Hunk gives her a look, and she sighs. Better to give him a bone then have him looking too closely into the correlation between Lance’s appearance and her sudden onset of awkwardness. “I’m feeling a little overheated. I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Hmm. Okay. Feel better.” His gaze returns to the ongoign sparring session. Pidge quietly slips off of the bench and out into the hall. Maybe a nice, long shower will calm her down until she can get ahold of Lance and…. She sighs and shakes her head. She’s not sure what she’ll do, but she’ll do something alright.

By the time Pidge is done with her shower, Lance is already in his room in the midst of his usual after-workout facials. She considers waiting for him to finish up, but decides that she doesn’t have the patience for it, and starts down the hall. The ground is cold against her bare feet, and the gentle woosh of air conditioning against her skin has her feeling chilled. She crosses her arms as she reaches his door, and knocks twice.

“M’ busy.”

She knocks harder.

“Oh,” He steps in the doorway as it slides open. “It’s you.”

Pidge scowls as she brushes past him. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Eh,” Lance flops on his bed, his housecoat flying open to reveal his bare chest, and blue boxers. “You made me lose the match today, so I think it’s fair.”

“I left. How could I have possibly made you lose?”

Lance sticks his hands behind his damp hair, and shrugs. “I mean, the show was all for you. Once you left, it kinda wasn’t as fun.”

“Still wasn’t my fault you lost.”

“And I’m still blaming you.”

Pidge rolls her eyes, and flops on the bed next to him. “I had a good reason for that anyway.”

“Which is?” He asks as he grabs a rag to wipe his facemask off. It stains the towel bright green. He misses a few spots around his hairline, she notes as he tosses the rag aside. She catches it before it hits the ground, and rubs them away. “Thanks,” Lance catches her hands and kisses her knuckles. “But seriously. What’s your reason?”

Pidge takes a deep breath, and words come spilling out right after like water spilling from a dam. “So, you know how with Pavlov’s dogs, he rung a bell before feeding them? And then every time he rung a bell, they’d salivate, even when there was no food?”

Lance raises an eyebrow, then after a moment, nods. “Yeah?”

“So before you eat me out, you always pin your hair back.”

“And?”

“And you pinned your hair back in training earlier, and it’s still pinned up.”

Lance shrugs. “Am I missing something here?”

“So when I saw you with your hair pinned up,” Pidge wonders how people actually manage to say this kind of stuff without melting into a puddle of human embarrassment, and decides that must be either mentally indestructible, or desperate. She herself falls into the desperate category. She take a deep breath and says in one breath. “IGotWet.”

“Are you- you’re saying that you’ve been conditioned to get wet when my hair is up?” He laughs and flicks the little ponytail. “Well, maybe I should wear my hair up more often.”

Pidge slaps his arm, and tries her best not to pout when he leans forward and flicks her nipple in retaliation. “Don’t you dare.” She says, catching his hand before he can do the same to the other. “It’s bad enough as it is.”

“It?” Lance cups her crotch and presses hard against her. She shudders, and grinds down on him almost mindlessly. “I dunno,” Lance grins as he fingers her bra strap. He examines the beige elastic material like it’s something interesting, and then releases it. It snaps back, leaving a red mark on her pale skin. “I think I like it.”

She could say something snappy, something to make him think twice about his teasing her, but she doubts that that would make him inclined to stop his teasing and get to it already.

“You made this problem,” Her words are supposed to be more demanding, less like whining, but they come out like a beggar asking for water on a hot summer’s day. “You need to deal with it.”

Lance grin’s like a cat who’s caught a mouse between his clawed paws as he shoves her back against the bed. She huffs at his sudden roughness, but doesn’t get a chance to protest. He tugs her shirt until the buttons pop open, and ducks his head into the valley of her breasts to lick a hot stripe right up to her neck. If it had been any other day, any other time, she might have complained at his audacity, at his roughness, at the kind of ick that briefly followed his action, but right now, she is running so hot, she doesn’t care. He licks her right nipple, and then cups her tit in his hand, squeezing as he creates a trail of kisses leading from her chest to her neck to her ear.

His breath is hot as he says, “Am I ‘dealing with it’ right?”

Lance’s other hand caresses the sensitive line above the top of her panties, back and forth, back and forth. Her hips arch into the touch, and she squirms beneath his touch.

She bites her lip to stop herself from whimpering as she chokes out, “I’ll let you know when you finish.”

Lance tilts his head to the side. His eyes drift over her lazily, never halting anywhere for too long. His hand keeps moving on her breast, kneading carefully, as he decides where exactly he wants to pull the string to take her apart. His eyes smoulder as he kisses her softly, his tongue slipping into her mouth gently as his free hand slips under her waistband, and into her heat.

“You do that.” Lance teases as he rubs his thumb across her clit. She jolts, and he pulls his hand back. She pouts, and he holds up a finger. “I want to reinforce that ‘conditioning�� of yours.”

“Tease.” She gasps as he peels them away. “No, come ‘ere.”  Her fingers dance over the lithe muscles of his arms as he leans closer, closer; she touches the broadness of his shoulders, wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer.

His blue eyes survey her face as he dips down and kisses her, gently taking her lower lip in his, testing the skin with his blunt teeth. Pidge kisses back, arching toward him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tries to keep him there. He pulls back, but she doesn’t release him.

Lance laughs, and the sound is like audible sunshine. It brightens the room, makes her feel like laughing too. “I can’t exactly ‘finish’ if you won’t let me get started.”

“I know.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

 “Kiss me again.” Pidge says it like a spoiled child demanding candy, and like a fool, Lance gives it to her. He kisses her again, kisses the side of her mouth, pretends that that wasn’t a mistake and makes a trail down her neck, hot and blazing.

“Can I move on to your concha now?”

Pidge feels breathless. The words come out haltingly. “I- Uh- I, um. Yes.”

“I mean, really.  You’ve been such a tease today.” He spreads her thighs apart gently, and tsks. “You’ve been wet since training this morning, haven’t you?” Lance leans down, and she sees it, that little ponytail at the nape of his neck, tied away with a twice broken hair tie. He nudges her legs apart, and digs in.

No matter which way she puts it or how she looks at it, Lance is a teenage boy with no real experience with, well, anyone besides herself. He doesn’t have much skill, and neither does she. All that the two of them really have is enthusiasm, and the desire to do it, no matter how much trial and error it takes to get there. Fortunately for her, one thing Lance has plenty of is enthusiasm.

He eats at her like she’s the best tasting thing in the world. Lance doesn’t seem to notice that more often than not, he misses her clit. His tongue brushes the side of it, the bottom half, very rarely the center of the thing. He has her drenched in a mix of spit and arousal due to a lack of aim. Pidge’s hands grasp the sides of his head, holding him still as the first waves of orgasm run through her body. She bites her lip as he keeps writhing, keeps moving, even as her thighs tighten around him.

Her hands loosen as she finishes, and Lance leans back, his face darkened with blush and slick with spit. He wipes his face on the back of his hand, and leans back on his hands. His boxers are tented, a small flagpole holding up a sea of blue.

“I can- I think I can condition you too.” She slides her glasses off, and sets them on the bedside table. Pidge gets to her knees, slides a leg between his, and knocks him onto his back. “If you’re gonna be a tease all the time, don’t think I can’t be one too.”

There’s this little slit in men’s boxers. She knows that the logical explanation is that it’s for easy access for biological reasons, but isn’t it interesting how easy it is to slip his dick through that little hole, wrap her fist around the base, and stick it in her mouth.

It doesn’t taste like much to talk about. Salty, kind of, but with a weight that fills her mouth and rests heavy on her tongue. It’s not much to talk about, but the way that it makes Lance groan and twitch beneath her makes it the best thing she’d ever done.

Half of it is enough to fill her mouth comfortably, the other, still gripped in her palm. She briefly considers copying one of those cheesy pornos she knows he has on his phone, but decides that she’d prefer to not hit her gag reflex and ruin the whole sexy vibe with her sudden nausea and subsequent vomiting. She pulls back slowly, keeping her lips tight around his cock, and then lowers herself again. Spit spills down his shaft, makes her hand slide easier. Lance’s hands reach for her hair, then settles on the bed. Even now, even when he’s supposed to so out of his mind he can’t even tell what decade he’s in (as reported by the last girly magazienze she’d read), he’s concerned about her. If she could laugh, she would.

Pidge takes his hand and brings it back to her hair, holds it there until his fingers knot into her hair, holds the side of her face and holds her steady as he thrusts forward, never quite hitting the back of her throat, never quite so hard that it’s uncomfortable. He leans forward a little bit, catches her eyes right before he cums. If her mouth weren’t full, she’d be grinning.

When he finishes, and she’s done spitting it out into the bathroom sink, and the two of them are getting sleepy in the mess of blankets and pillows on the bed, she lays her head on his chest, and says, “If it’s like this everytime, I don’t think I’ll mind the ponytail that much.”

Lance wears his hair tied up three times the next week. In training again, at midnight when she went to the kitchen for a midnight snack, and once, he put it up spontaneously in the hallway when they’d stumbled into each other after a mission.

The day after that incident, she takes her glasses off, and leaves them there, and watches through a blurry gaze as he struggles to hide his boner during the rest of the Princess’s lecture.