#i hope it's very obvious that the jump rope is in the shape of the letter 'B'

[nero-neptune]

shout out to this movie for teaching me how to spell words that i've never found the opportunity to use in real life lol

[atypical-artisan]

Aran Ryan (snes) and Aran Ryan (wii) are not the same guy!!

Okay so this idea has been brewing in my head for a long time so I might as well get it out for shits n giggles.

Note: This is not an attempt to downplay people's headcanons Aran Ryan being the same dude. This is just me making a big ole post giving all the evidence for my personal interpretation in hopes to better explain why I see em as two different guys.

Behavior:

So this is the more obvious of the differences between the two. Focusing on their actions within the games (Sorry Snes manual): Snes Aran is a fair fighter with little to no infractions in his name, while Wii Aran is... a hot mess to say the least.

Snes Aran, though charming in his love for his mother and tough attitude while being a rare goody two shoes in SPO, lacks any of the chaotic, violent, and outright mean energy Wii Aran has.

Wii Aran canonically steals, raids trash, breaks into lockers, vandalizes wvba property, destroys wvba property, agitates the crowd, disrespects his opponents, and gets on the edge of outright murder with those damn horseshoes.

Snes Aran has the ability to clinch, a trait only shared with Pizza Pasta, with the bonus ability of regaining his stamina as he does so. A neat, and fully legal party trick- if a little bit magical! He focuses being quite the fast fighter with his own speedy 'hurricane rush' type attack. Unlike most other pallate swaps within Super Punch out, Snes Aran is very similar to Hurricane, only faster.

Wii Aran headbutts, elbows, and jumps off the ropes and goes the extra mile in title defense by using his creativity in the form of a home made weapon. He focuses on nothing but speed and chaos- the only way to fight him is to counter.

Wii Aran is far more mean that Snes Aran, constantly taunting his opponents, and frequently comparing them to his sister (Who may not even be real) as well as boasting about his love for pain and generally mocking Mac. Snes Aran, though he has a mean line, is quiet and only comments on the opponent's heavy hits after the fact.

Overall Wii Aran is bursting with creativity and character compared to his earlier counterpart, I don't find it surprising at all the he has a larger fanbase tbh.

Looks:

Okay here's my main selling point- THESE GUYS DON'T LOOK LIKE EACH OTHER

They have completely different skin tones, head shapes, ear shapes- unless Aran got some serious plastic surgery and a whole body tattoo... yeah nah they ain't the same guy.

To further illustrate my point here are some comparisons:

Note: The last color for Snes Aran is NOT his eye color- it's just the color the use for shadows on his eyes, but I compared ti to Wii aran's eyes for demonstration purposes

Even though their heads are at a slightly different angle, it's clear that Snes Aran has a softer face overall, lower, smaller cheekbones, heavier jowls, a fuller lower lip, more rounded features and bigger ears.

Wii Aran is overall more chiseled and sharp features, his brow is more wrinkled, he has actual eyebrows, a very square clefted chin, and very small and high-set ears, alongside some killer cheekbones.

So now comes the biggest question of this theory:

If they're different guys why do they have the same origin, age, weight, win-loss ratio, and name?

Well, I would counter with the fact that all but two of these features is shared with boxers who are canonically not Aran.

Looking at the Wii game alone-

Don notably shares his age and height with Aran.

Disco shares his wins by decision and Hippo shares his total wins.

Outside the Wii game-

He shares his total fights with Bull (Arcade) and his losses with Piston Hurricane (Snes).

Outside of Aran, multiple boxers share home cities-

Disco, Kid Quick, Mac, and Doc all hail from New York with Doc, Disco and Quick all sharing Brooklyn.

Gabby and Joe are also notably both Parisian.

There are also the trio of fighter sets from Japan, China, and Italy (Albeit from different cities).

As well as ages-

Disco and Narcis,

Macho with Clown (27) and Sandy (Spo) + Hondo (28),

Tiger with Muscle.

Weights-

Gabby and Joe (Except his arcade version)

(SNES) Bull and Disco

And most other things! (This post was a huge help for the wii stats)

Not even names are safe from sharing! There are two Pistons, two bruisers, two macs (Counting Texas mac), two 'kids', and two guys with the GJ initials.

So that only leaves Aran's weight and full name shared, but unique to, both parties.

This is where my theory/headcanon comes in :)

I am of the opinion that the WVBA is an absolute shitstorm of an organization. If their attitude towards boxing rules wasn't a clear sign then the repeated flipping around of ages, records, as well as lack of documentation for some boxers (Hippo, The Bruisers) is a clear sign that the WVBA is deeply unorganized.

Focusing on the Wii game in particular, which gives us the most information about the boxers, we can see a lot of the height/weight comparisons are very unrealistic. While Joe's 110 lbs at 5'10 makes sense because he's meant to be flimsy, Hondo's 174 at 6'2 or Soda's 237 at 6'6 seems too small how their physiques are depicted in game.

A boxer with big bulging muscles like Soda is going to be heavier than a boxer that's both shorter and doesn't have a bodybuilder physique like Sandman, yet Sandman is heavier. Boxing does have a lot of focus on losing excess weight, like water weight, in preparation for matches and weigh-ins, but as the WVBA lacks weight classes, this can't really be taken into consideration.

This is a good tool to visualize body types and sizes in comparison to height and weight.

At this point you may be asking:

"Charlie, I've been reading for 20 minutes at this point, what the fuck does any of this have to do with whether or not Aran Ryan is actually 2 people?"

It has everything to do with it! In my opinion, the lack of consistent data on the boxers, within the Punch Out universe, means the WVBA is full of idiots and doesn't keep track of their boxer's information that well!

Which opens up the possibility of boxers who are a little too similar getting their information crossed or even merged...

Considering we have Gabby and Joe share so much of their information, alongside Disco and Kid Quick- who's to say these aren't other examples of cross-contamination within the WVBA databases over the years?

What if that's what happened to two Irish boxers of different branches?

That exactly what happened! (In my headcanon of course)

"So who is who? What info is for which Aran? How'd this even happen?"

Well I'll make my headcanon as short as I can (Long)

A Dubliner by the name of Airyn O'Ryan joins the west (SPO) branch of the wvba at the tender age of 17- standing at 5'10, 160 lbs, building a solid record of 18 to 10. He's scrappy, used to living on the city streets and dealing with bullies, but a fair man who loves his mum, and his name, to bits.

At around the same time, another Irish boxer stepped into the east (Wii) branch. Aran Ryan, a 23 year old claiming to hail from Dublin (though he only says so because that's what his visa and passport say), stands at 6'1 and weights a comfortable 210 during the boxing season. His record is a bit better than the other Irishman's- a whopping 24 wins and only 11 losses. He's far more vicious than his western counterpart, more prone to violence, cheating, and generally cruel behavior. He has a habit of odd insults and a strange fixation on the number seven too.

Over the course of a year, their individual files begin to blend and eventually settle into a comfortable hybrid, with the elder's name and height and the rest from the younger.

This goes unnoticed for a bit until Airyn files a complaint to HR about the spelling of his name on official documents. He's insulted that they'd gotten it wrong on everything at this point and demands they change it back. He also tries correcting his height, just for good measure.

This memo gets sent through the east branch and lands in the lap of Aran- he reads through everything, realizes whats happened, and sent it back exactly as it came. Why? Well, even though his record is worse now, he doesn't exactly want the WVBA looking too closely at his documentation or passport.

Now why is that such a problem? Well it's a long story I can't get into here. Needless to say, he's riding on the WVBA being less than competent at their damn jobs. So with crossed fingers, he sends it back.

This little back and forth happens a dozen or so times before Airyn completely gives up, embittered and convinced the WVBA is full of idiots. Aran is very grateful the weird crop ups stopped happening.

It takes them 5 years, and a set of teenagers beating the crap out of them, for the two to realize that there are in fact, two of them.

(Cannot for the life of me find/remember was made the left one but the right was made by @4suitedplayingcard)

[agooseegg]

So, hello! This is my first time posting anything and I figured I’d spend two weeks writing a 14 page fan fiction about the Sherlock & Co. Podcast, which you all listen to it’s incredible. Anyways I’ll leave you all with this behemoth, and I hope you enjoy, “The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing”.

The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

John and Sherlock kneel over the body of Phoebe Saint, a woman in her late 50s. An hour before, she’d been found by her neighbours dangling from her 4th floor balcony with a rope around her neck. The police would have figured it was suicide, but the neighbours swear they saw a figure move away from her window as they looked up. Now, she lay in an open bodybag on the floor. Sherlock breathes in heavily and sighs before turning his gaze to John.

“Watson,” he says, “tell me how she died.” John gives him a puzzled look, then glances between Sherlock and the body before clearing his throat.

“Well, strangulation. She would’ve asphyxiated from the pressure on her neck, and the force of her jumping down from the balcony would’ve broken the bones as well. Terribly sad, really, to see someone go like this.”

“Yes, Watson. I’d agree with you. If she had committed suicide.”

“What are you on about, mate? Have you taken too much of your unprescribed medicine?”

“No, Watson. Look closer at her. See the details hidden below the obvious. Look between the lines.”

Watson peered closer at the woman, trying to grasp whatever Sherlock was so keen on proving. He could see the bruising on her neck and that scratchy redness of rope burn. Sitting back, he was about to speak when his eyes suddenly darted to the ring finger. Pausing for a moment, he looked closer and saw a very slight indentation on the skin, back by the knuckle in the shape of a band.

“She was married?” He asks, turning back to Sherlock. Sherlock stared at John like a proud parent.

“Yes Watson! She was in fact married.”

“Okay, how does that prove she was murdered? Unfortunately, being married doesn’t always stop people from doing this.”

“The indentation should prove it all, actually. She’d worn a wedding ring for quite some time—a number of years in fact—but due to the fading mark, she has apparently not been wearing it so often. Yet, there are still photos hung around her flat of her and a man in which they are both wearing wedding rings. So why take off your ring?” John paused for a moment to think before chiming in again.

“She was seeing someone else, wasn’t she?” He finally asked.

“Precisely Watson. She’d fallen out of love with her husband, sought out another man, and gotten killed for it. She also has small strands of rope below her fingernails, as well as rope burns on her fingertips.

“She struggled.” John somberly gazes at Mrs. Saint as he says this. Sherlock stands, then walks to one of the framed photos and takes it off the wall. Then, he walks over to one of the police officers at the scene and says, “Your murderer is Mr. Saint. Here's his photo. If the neighbours are correct and he was here as 999 was phoned, then he shouldn’t be too far away. I suspect you’ll find him within the hour.” He turns back around from the now confused-looking officer and walks over to John.

“Come Watson. We’ve finished here.”

“There’s really nothing else we can do?”

“We’ve given the police the name and description of the murderer. I’m not going to go running into the dark chasing a dangerous criminal when he’s going to get himself caught. Now, before you bore holes in that poor woman's face with your eyes, let's head home.”

“Right, yeah mate. Let’s go.”

Back at 221b, John lays in bed staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The night was dreary, as rain hammered down on the city below and wind seemed to rattle every bit of the flat. A thick fog rolled through the streets below, heavy and choking and dark grey. It felt as if the world outside had disappeared into a cloud.

The soft knocking on his door startled him, and a moment later Sherlock walks in, fully dressed.

“Come on Watson! Pack a bag; we haven’t got all day. We’ve got to catch the train,” he says excitedly.

“Uh, why exactly are we doing that mate?”

“Because Watson,” Sherlock pauses for a moment, a grin stretching across his face. “The game is afoot!” He turns and bolts out of John’s room, slamming the door behind him.

John takes a moment to register what actually just happened, then slides out of bed and stretches. Glancing over at his clock, he actually wasn’t the least bit surprised when the time staring back at him read 5:20 in the morning.

“Hey Sherlock!” John yells through his door as he dresses, “Do you mind telling me what we’re getting into, mate?”

“I can tell you on the way, Watson!”

“Yeah, or you could tell me now! Sherlock?”

John finishes getting dressed and throws a pile of clothes into a suitcase, alongside his recording equipment. Swinging his bedroom door open, he sees Sherlock talking on the phone.

“-yes. Mhm. Of course.” Sherlock slides his phone back in his pocket and slides his suitcase over near the front door.

“Who was that?”

“Lestrade.”

“What did she want?”

“Mr. Smith was arrested. A bank camera caught him sulking about trying to catch a bus, and he was picked up shortly after.”

“Lestrade called you for that?”

“No, but I thought you might want to know. We’ve already wasted too much time; I’ll fill you in on the way Watson.”

“What about Archie?”

“I’ve already asked Ms. Hudson if she’d be able to watch him for us. Now come on.”

"Yeah, alright I'm coming mate.”

Hurrying out the front door in the middle of the night with two suitcases (one of which may as well have been a hamper), John and Sherlock sped off in the direction of the subway. The rain had stopped by then, though the air still felt moist, and the pavement was still damp. The fog was present, but not nearly as bad, and the two men soon found themselves descending the Baker Street Station and boarding a train. John sat down exhausted and already sweating.

“You know… mate,” he panted out, “a little… warning… would’ve been nice.” Sherlock took harsh, short breaths, clearly stifling his own exhaustion, but they eventually tapered out to more normal breaths before he released a composed sigh.

“I did say we were in a hurry, didn’t I Watson? Now settle in; we’ve got a bit of a journey ahead of us.” John coughs a little, then clears his throat and breathes a heavy sigh.

“It’s on you if I don’t have any proper clothes.”

"Yes, yes, alright.” The pair sit in silence for a moment as the train rolls into a stop.

“Where are we getting off Sherlock?”

“Paddington.”

“Paddington?”

“Yes. We’re catching a train to Ilfracombe. We’re investigating a series of murders. Lestrade called for me specifically, which by proximity means you as well.”

"Aw, thanks mate, that feels great.”

“You’re welcome, Watson.”

“That was sarcasm.” The train finally breaks from underground and stops at Paddington station. The pair exit swiftly and make their way over to their next train. London rushes by them as the train exits, the early morning lights blending into a

sea of bright yellow-tinted eyes.

John uses the extra time to catch up on his much-needed sleep, while Sherlock examines the landscape as they pass through town after town. After hopping one more train and catching a bus ride, they arrive at their lodging; a house on the beach across from the Chapel of St Nicholas lighthouse. It was bright out now, as it was almost 10 in the morning, and after another short call from Lestrade, Sherlock and John headed to meet with the police and examine the bodies.

“Ilfracombe,” Sherlock suddenly blurts out, “is a seaside town on the north coast of Devon known for its dramatic cliffs, rugged coastline, and historic charm. And there've been four murders in the span of a week. It doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s definitely a strange place for a sudden serial killer to prop up. You wouldn’t think anything is up by looking around. It’s so peaceful here.” Walking along the road towards the police station, they pass by a section alongside the beach, and the waves of the Bristol Channel lap gently up and down the soft sand, scaring off seagulls picking for crabs that scurry along the long stretches of beach. The clouds partially block the sun, but in the cool October air, the slight warmth is greatly appreciated.

“Yes, Watson. I’d have to agree.”

The bodies were all laid out on tables in a row, their belongings on tables next to them. The room was chilly, and John’s arm hair would be standing up even if it was warmer. The pair walk around the tables, giving the bodies a once-over before Sherlock walks over to the first victim and pulls the cover back all the way, revealing a clean-shaven, pale-faced man in a green sweater, brown pants, and black loafers. The sleeves of the sweater were rolled up to his elbows, and the indentation of a wristwatch could be barely seen on his left wrist. Inspecting the table of belongings, Sherlock locates the watch, its hands not moving and no ticking sound coming from within. Next to the watch is the man's wallet, and flipping it open, Sherlock is presented with the ID as well as a crumpled note that falls to the table.

“Ian Harris. This would be the antiques dealer,” he says to John while picking up the note.

“What killed him? I can’t see any wounds on his body.”

“Pufferfish poison.”

“Really? How would he have ingested that?”

“It’d have to be slipped into something he had. Here, the police report says he was found dead at 2:00 pm in his store with two cups of tea on his coffee table. Forensic analysis states the time of death was noon. Whoever was there with him poured the poison in. This is unintelligible; can you read these scribbles?” Sherlock hands John the unfurled note to read. The letters are squiggly blobs, as if the ink was smeared and then dunked in water.

"Blimey, this is really poorly written. I think I see a p there at the front. Could it be a shopping list or something? Maybe it says ‘Peanut butter’.”

“Hmm, good point. I’ll have to come back to this.”

“What about the other victims?”

“Well, each murder is connected in some way. Mr. Harris was murdered with poison that came from a fish. One of the next victims was a fishmonger, Kelvin Baker, and his wife Nina the other. He was found with a gun in his hand and a bullet in his head. She was strangled with a leather belt. Can you guess what the fourth victim's profession was?”

“A leatherworker?”

“Exactly, and not only that, but look at the belt.” Sherlock walks over to the belt that killed Nina and points to a symbol to the left of the buckle.

“What is that? A bull under a tree?” John asks.

“No Watson, well, actually yes, but the important part is that specific symbol. Eric Clarke used this symbol in all of his works.”

“And now he’s dead.”

“Precisely.”

“What does this mean, Sherlock?”

“Whoever is behind this, whoever is going around killing and tying all these victims together, they want to be hunted.”

“They want to? Who would want to be found after doing all this?”

“I suspect it's an art to them. That, or some kind of sick twisted game. Either way, with them still out there, the potential for more murders grows every second.”

“How did Clarke die?”

“A cleaver. Cuts along the throat and knife embedded in the back. The handle had a symbol made of bull horns.”

“So a butcher is the next victim?” Sherlock pauses for a moment, then pulls out his phone.

"Yes, Watson, he certainly was.”

It takes Sherlock and John around 15 minutes to arrive at the butchery. Police were swarming the place, taking pictures at every angle, and they could see a crowd forming inside the meat cooler. Pushing past a few other cops, they come face to face with a man tied to a chair and blood dripping from his mouth. The butcher was still wearing his apron, as well as a jacket over top jeans and thick work boots.

“Oh good, you’re here,” the officer standing next to the chair says as Sherlock crouches and tilts his head to see the face of the victim. He’s tall but skinny, and his shoulders seem to bend forward at an odd angle, like he’s hunching over. His eyes are a dark brown, and his hair is tucked under a police cap.

“Are you Inspector Berkley? I got your text,” he says, still inspecting the mouth of the butcher.

“Yes, that's me. Lestrade’s reached out and told me to allow you to help us catch this nutter. Bloody tragedy this is. I can’t remember anything like this ever happening before. Even in the town's history, it’s just ship disasters. To be honest, this whole week has left me quite knackered. We all feel like we’re chasing some boogeyman. No one’s got a clue who could be behind it; it’s left everyone quite desperate.”

“Who was he?” Sherlock asks.

“William Allen. He was the owner of this shop.”

“What have you been doing to try and keep people safe?” John chimes in.

"Well, we placed a townwide curfew for nine, and we’ve implemented patrols to spread out and report if they see anything suspicious.”

“And they haven't reported anything?” The captain breathes a heavy sigh and turns his attention away from John and back to Sherlock.

“No, we haven’t seen anything. This whole thing is putting my men severely on edge. I'm honestly worried about them freaking out while on patrol. Lots of them are so jumpy nowadays.” John also turns back to Sherlock, still examining the body.

“You alright mate?” John asks him.

“He’s had his teeth pulled out with these forceps.” Sherlock pulls a pair of bloody forceps from an inside pocket of the jacket. “He also has a faint smell of alcohol, the culprit of which could be this small flask.” He sniffs the top a few times before turning back to the captain. “I believe that would be a whisky.”

The police captain leans over slightly to smell the flask as well before standing back up and nodding his head slowly. “Will was... troubled. Had a drinking issue. It doesn’t surprise me he’d keep that on him.”

“And what’s this engraving on the side of the flask?” Sherlock asks Captain Berkley, pointing to the symbol of a shield with a red cross.

“Oh, that’s from The St. George. I’d seen Will there a few times before. He must’ve frequented it more than I thought he did.” Sherlock places the alcohol on the floor and inspects the forceps. They appear brand new, and aside from the blood, they have no other marks or scratches. However, there’s a fine white powdery substance stuck on one of the tips.

“Can you see anything mate? Any clues for who the next target is?” Watson chimes in, leaning over Sherlock and trying to follow his gaze.

“Unfortunately, I believe there may be two,” Sherlock replies, “and if we are wrong, then there will be another body in the morning.”

Sherlock turns and rushes out of the butchery, into the street outside, then down and around the back of the building and stands on the beach, watching the waves and thinking over the details. He pulls out the note that was in Harris’s wallet and stares at the blurred text, trying desperately to find answers in the scrawled note. John follows and slowly walks up next to Sherlock.

“What is it, mate?” He asks as he approaches.

“Just, still trying this out,” Sherlock says, flashing the note to John.

“Okay. I still think it’s a shopping list. Anything you can think of about the case though?” Sherlock pauses, then puts the note back in his pocket and looks over to John.

“Harris died at noon,” he says. “He was found at 2:00, but he died at noon.”

“Yeah, that’s what the report said.”

“What time is it right now, Watson?” John pulls out his phone and checks the time.

“It is... its noon.”

“The Bakers were found at 12:16 in the morning, after the gunshot was heard by neighbours. Clarke was found at 9:20, after regulars noticed his shop still wasn’t open.”

“He died at midnight, didn’t he mate.”

“Yes Watson. I don’t understand. Why connect all these people? What is the point?”

“Besides the murder weapon tying into the next victims, do we have any other clues? I mean, it feels like this time we’ve got two. But how can there be two clues if there’s only supposed to be one killer?”

“I can think of two reasons. One, we’re being forced into a blind 50/50 situation. However, we could have cops protect one of the potential victims.”

“Protect one? Wait a moment, you’re not actually suggesting that we guard the other?”

“I’m not suggesting Watson, and we can ask some officers to come with us. Though I doubt they’d be of any use.”

"Mate this isn’t a bloody James Bond movie! Five people are dead, and we’re on the verge of finding another tonight.”

"Well, would you rather we spread the police to cover both and have one die anyway?”

“I’d rather not be in the path of danger, Sherlock. We already went through that dealing with Abe Slaney. For fucks sake, I got shot in case if you don’t remember! I’d just prefer us to be a bit safer.”

“We had no other option with Slaney. He was already suspicious about coming to the hotel, and he would’ve sneaked out had we not stopped him. In case you don’t remember, I already apologised for that. I’ve said before that I didn’t think he would actually shoot, and when he did, all I could think of was you.” Sherlock breathes in deeply and then sighs exhaustedly. John looks away, slightly warmer than before.

“What’s the other reason?” John asks him.

“What?”

“You said there might be two reasons; there were two clues. What’s the other reason?” Sherlock pauses for a moment, then turns away from John and looks into the sea.

“Misdirection.”

Later that night, the police take Ned Palmer (owner of The St George) and Kristy Palevnos (owner of a private dental clinic) into their custody at the police station for safety. Officers are positioned on surrounding rooftops, some of which have trained sniper rifles. Hidden cameras are placed at the bar and dental practice, as well as the homes of Ned and Kristy. Sherlock and John are once again stuck in the surveillance room, as they have been before. Sherlock bounces his knee excessively, clearly upset at the circumstances.

“It’s gonna be okay mate,” John says, taking his eyes off one of the camera feeds and looking to Sherlock. “They’ll catch whoever’s behind this and put an end to this mess.”

“It’s not a mess, Watson. Everything in this case has been able to link together. It’s all intentional, like a message. I cannot think why someone would do so, nor why we haven’t been able to find anything regarding identity or locations in advance. I feel like a rat constantly chasing a wafting aroma of cheese, only to meet dead ends inside this maze.” Sherlock leans back in his chair, placing his hands over his face, deep in thought. The two officers sitting in front of John were absentmindedly watching the screens, talking to each other casually about lunches. John wrinkles his nose at them and shakes his head.

“I mean, honestly guys, there's only a serial killer on the loose,” he says under his breath. “Can you believe this? We’re trying to find a serial killer, and these two are talking about, 'Oh, I prefer ranch dressing with my salads!’ yadedadedoo. Rubbish.” Sherlock sits up slowly in his chair and removes his hands from his face, placing them in his pocket. A moment later, he pulls the note out once more and strains his eyes to try and see the letters. There, as he holds the note up to a light, lines poke through, casting a shadow of letters on the table below.

However, the letters are not the same blotchy mess as the note, but small, neat shapes that form the phrase “Pda cwia eo wbkkp."

“What the bloody..." John says, trailing off as he continues to examine the note.

“Knife in the back... Watson grab me a pen and paper. Now!” Sherlock is suddenly energised, and as soon as he is given what he needs, he begins to write down different letters. John peers over his shoulder as he writes T, h, e, and g.

“Sherlock what's up mate?” He says worriedly. A moment later, Sherlock stands up and starts pacing around the room. John looks at the phrase that has been written down.

“The game is afoot? Sherlock, what is going on?”

“It was a cypher. You’re talk of salad dressings and how Eric Clarke died. A Caesar Cypher, Watson.” Suddenly, Sherlock feels his phone start to buzz, and taking it out of his pocket reveals a phone call from an unknown number. Not wanting to hesitate, he answers. There’s a moment of silence, as both people on either side of the line just breathe.

“Sherlock Holmes.” The voice was deep and rugged, clearly a man’s.

“Who is this?”

“Iknewnpu. E dwra okiapdejc pk owu. Ykia pk pda hecdpdkqoa.” The phone beeps twice, and as Sherlock lowers it from his head, John can see the screen says “call ended.” Sherlock looks visibly shaken and drops his phone as he looks to John. “You okay mate? What’s going on? Sherlock?” John's questions go unanswered.

As Sherlock stands there, the room slowly becomes static, and black dots float around inside his vision. He knows John is speaking, but everything is muffled, as if he were underwater. His lungs seem to shrink, and every breath draws them tighter, as if he’s suffocating. He looks down at his hands and feels how numb they are. Suddenly, something flashes in his head. Something unimaginable, a feeling so foreign to him that he was now struck with fear. He couldn't believe it. He forgot. He forgot. The man that had nearly ruined his life two years prior. The man that played with him like a toy. His spider, who had cast a web for him to fly into. The one that escaped him. Deep within his mind, he imagines himself suspended in an ocean, thrashing desperately to reach the surface, until a hand plunges into the sea and pulls him upwards.

Suddenly, the numbness in his hands disappears. The static in his vision vanishes, and he hears John asking him if he’s okay. Sherlock blinks twice, then feels the warmth on his cheeks and realises that John is holding his face, his fingers laced behind Sherlock’s head, keeping him upright as he kneels on the floor of the surveillance room. Sherlock gasps loudly, finally being able to breathe in properly. John moves his hands to Sherlock’s shoulders, bracing him as he catches his breath. Sherlock coughs loudly and spits onto the floor before slowing his breathing and swallowing.

“Take your time, mate. You’ve just had a bloody panic attack. Breath. You’re okay. You’re safe.” Sherlock nods slowly, closing his eyes for a second before blinking again. John helps him to his feet, and Sherlock tries to wipe some dirt off his jacket.

“What happened?” John asks again softly.

“I’m afraid this situation just got even worse.

At one in the morning, Sherlock and John run outside the police station. There’s been no movement on any cameras, and none of the lookouts have seen anything suspicious. The pair sprint down the street, towards the harbour and towards the Chapel of St Nicholas.

"Why... are we running to the lighthouse, mate?” John asks as they stop to catch their breaths near a boat.

“The man... over the phone. I’ve heard that voice before. Two years ago, I was in another case with a serial killer, only last time it was in Birmingham. A line of murders, only connected by the murder weapon and next victim. They were carried out by a self-proclaimed rival of mine. His name was James Moriarty. He managed to escape and went completely off the grid until now, when he decided to continue his spree.

As my ‘rival’, he would leave clues specifically intended for me to find and solve. He wanted me to hunt him, luring me deeper and deeper into his maze. The last time I had seen him, he was standing on the other side of a railway track from me. He told me that I had disappointed him and that he hoped I’d be better in the future. That it was too easy to escape my grip. Not catching him was my biggest failure.”

“So why are we going to the lighthouse?”

“‘Iknewnpu. E dwra okiapdejc pk owu. Ykia pk pda hecdpdkqoa.’ That was what he said to me over the phone. When I asked who was there, he responded. It was a caesar cypher. It translates to ‘Moriarty. I have something to say. Come to the lighthouse.’”

“So he’s admitting to everything then?”

“I doubt it will be that simple. Moriarty is no fool. This is likely some kind of trap.”

“And we’re just going to willingly walk into it?”

“Good job Watson; you’ve caught on.” Sherlock flashes a slight smile at John as he continues up the path. The lighthouse is visible now, just on the other side of the hill. Its stone foundation slightly hangs over one edge of the cliff, and John can see stairs curling up to a door. Wind flows gently up from the beach, though in the given circumstances it lends to a more intimidating atmosphere. Dark clouds loom overhead, threatening to spill the water contained inside at any moment. Over the ocean, lightning flashes; the thunder rolling made John jump slightly. At the top of the hill sits the lone chapel, made of pale brick and covered on one side in a thick layer of bright green vines. It looks more like a house, except for the small white dome sticking up from the back half of the roof. The windows are all dark except for the dome, which periodically flashes a bright green light to the ocean beyond. Yellow lights positioned farther down the hill illuminate the ground around the chapel, and John takes a moment to look out on the sea. He can see the wall of rain slowly moving towards the town, falling onto the waves below. He stands there for another moment , watching the storm, before walking over to Sherlock who stands at the front door, his hand hovering over the handle.

“Ready?” he asks, looking back to John. John nods, not questioning the gun Sherlock holds in his other hand.

The door creaks open loudly, echoing into the chapel. It’s pitch black inside, and as John turns his phone torch on, the light bounces not against a wooden or stone floor but against a bright pool of red that smears from the entrance further into the chapel. Sherlock and John look at each other for a moment, contemplating, before Sherlock calls out into the darkness.

“Hello!? Is anyone there? James?” The wind outside presses against the building, air finding small gaps in windows and chilling the inside. The hair on John’s arms and neck rise slowly, and he can feel the bumpiness of his skin under his sweater. It’s small and cramped inside; two spare rooms aside from the main one with only two pews. Sherlock kneels down to look at the red marks.

“It’s blood. Someone was dragged through here with substantial bleeding. Fairly fresh as well, had to have been in the last hour.”

“Which would’ve been midnight,” John says, a grim expression on his face. Pointing his torch to the other end of the room, the pair follow the drag marks until the spot on the floor turns into a puddle, and at the center of the puddle sat a large burlap sack. John grabs onto Sherlock's hand and leans into his arm.

“Sherlock, I really don’t like this mate.”

“I… feel like I need to open it.”

“Are you serious? We need to leave and call the police!”

“I already have Watson, before we came in. I saw the blood pooling at the bottom of the doorframe. They’ll be here in a few minutes. We have to find Moriarty before that happens.”

“Okay. Open it.” John releases Sherlocks hand as he approaches the bag. It sags to one side, and the bottom is the same color as the puddle surrounding it. Sherlock takes the string tying the bag together and slowly pulls it apart, like a bow on a christmas present. He reaches his hand out for the torch, and brings it to the opening of the bag.

“It’s… a sheep's head?”

“A what?”

“There are slices of meat underneath the head. There’s something else too, near the bottom. It's reflecting the light.”

“Can we hurry just a little, mate? I don’t really like standing here in the dark.” John glances around, trying to focus on adjusting his eyes. I am definitely going to need new shoes, he thinks to himself.

“One moment.” Sherlock holds his breath, then reaches his hand inside the bag and grasps a hold of something small and cylindrical. Pulling it up from the sack, Sherlock points the torch at the object as John leans over to get a better look. It was a bullet, 9mm and intact.

“What does it mean mate?” John asks. Sherlock looks intently at the bullet, trying to pry open the wall of the maze and find the exit. Suddenly his eyes shoot to the front door. He quickly puts the torch out.

Through the wind, John can hear the jostle of the door handle, and the creak of the door slowly opening. Every millimeter fills John with more dread, and as a dark shape creeps in, a flash of lightning illuminates the face of the figure.

“Berkley?!” John asks, “Blimey mate, did you have to freak us out like that?” Inspector Berkley flicks his torch on.

“Oh, heh, sorry John. Although I think it’s just you that I spooked. Sherlock looks al…right.” Berkley’s voice trails off as he locks eyes with the bag of meat. “What the hell is that?”

“That,” Sherlock replies, “is a burlap sack with a sheep’s head in it.”

“Okay. Is that supposed to be a message?”

“I’m not sure. It just appears to be a bag of meat.” John glances over at Sherlock with a confused expression, which Sherlock responds with a stern look before looking back at Berkley.

“Well, you called for backup. Was the killer here?”

“No, he wasn’t,” Sherlock says as he stands and starts walking towards the door. He suddenly spins, wheeling his balled up fist into Berkley’s left cheek and causing the inspector to stumble over, dropping his torch and bouncing his head against the wooden floor.

“Jesus christ mate!” John yells as he picks up the torch and points it at Berkley. Sherlock is on top of him a moment later, pressing a gun against his forehead.

“Phone the police Watson! Tell them James Moriarty has been caught!”

The man that had claimed to be Berkley sat outside with his back against the wall of the chapel. The small ledge on the roof protects John and Sherlock from the rain, and they watched as police lights zoomed through the streets of the town, towards the lighthouse. Moriarty was silent, his hands tied behind him with shoestrings that Sherlock stole from John’s shoes. When John looked over at him, he could’ve sworn he saw Moriarty smile.

When the police arrived and placed Moriarty in the back, he turned to Sherlock with a toothy grin and said “I’ll be seeing you then.” Sherlock stared deeply into his face with deep resentment, then shut the door. It was only after John patted him on the back that he noticed his whole body had tensed up, and he relaxed as he sighed.

“How did you know Berkley was actually Moriarty?” John asks.

“It’s annoyingly simple really. The bullet was a 9mm. Cops carry Glock-17s, which fire 9mm. The sheep’s head was the give away.”

“How so?”

“The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing. I’m dumbfounded at how blatant this whole case has been. And yet at every step I tricked myself into thinking it can’t be as simple as it seems to be.”

“I think you’re being too harsh on yourself mate. Didn’t you say Moriarty was some mastermind? Maybe he wanted to mess with your head. Make you doubt the obvious. You’re also overworked, I can tell you that for certain.”

“It can’t be this easy. I feel so… unfulfilled. He must have something up his sleeve.”

“What could he do mate? He’s in cuffs in police hands, there’s nowhere he could go.”

“He’s gotten away before.”

“He wasn’t arrested before.”

The rain has slowed now, resting into a light sprinkle. John watches Sherlock as the cop cars drive away, staring at how the rain drops hang gently over his eyelashes.

“Well Watson,” Sherlock says turning to John, “how about we get some rest before we leave tomorrow?”

“Are you actually going to sleep or will you find a random beam to hang upside down on?”

“I guess you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.” Sherlock offers a slight smile, which John reflects and grabs his hand.

“Yeah. Let's go mate.”

The End

[thiswasinevitableid]

52 or 41 for the meet ugly? sternclay, nsfw if thats chill

Here it is!

52. you think I’m leering at you in the gym but really I’m studying your form and trying to learn how to make mine better Sternclay NSFW

This is the toughest part of Joseph’s workout, so he could do without the audience.

He first noticed the guy during his turn at the squat rack; taller than him, in a grey t-shirt and black shorts that show he has muscle to spare, with brown eyes that were on Joseph’s ass whenever he looked away. Were Joseph not in the middle of the kettlebell burpees sequence, he might even spare a glance of his own to see how he fills out the front of his shorts, but he’s tired and he’s been dealing with behind the back stares all day.

When he’s done, he takes a final look over his shoulder to see the guy still staring at him. Joseph locks eyes, watches his face flood with guilt as he becomes very focused on his shoes. He continues studying them, as if holding still might keep Joseph from coming closer.

“Okay, I sense you’re new here, so I’ll be polite: everyone checks people out at the gym now and then. But the rule is you don’t do it so fucking brazenly the other person notices.”

“I, uh, I wasn’t-”

“I counted you staring ten separate times, even when your workout had you facing away from me.” He crosses his arms, annoyed that the man has the gall to deny his blatant ogling.

“I, uh, I was studying your form” the newcomer rubs his wrist, sheepish, “I’m kinda new to, like, formal workout stuff, and you clearly know your shit, so I was trying to use you to figure out how to do my circuit without fucking up my spine.”

Joseph rolls his eyes; that’s the first lie anyone tells when they get called out for staring.

“I’m serious!” The man has the audacity to look perturbed. Joseph has zero interest in an argument but every desire to call his bluff.

“Well, if that’s the case, if we cross paths again you’re welcome to join me and I can give you pointers.”

With that, he heads towards the locker rooms. He doesn’t feel eyes on him once the whole walk there.

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

“Hey.”

Joseph looks up from setting his fitbit to see his not-so-subtle admirer beside him. The taller man smirks, “you didn’t think I’d take you up on it, did you?”

“No. But I’m not about to go back on my offer. Or modify my work out if you join me. Make your choice accordingly.”

“Okay. What’s first?” His smile is friendly, but there’s a challenge in it. Joseph, who's been bored the entire day, is more than ready to rise to it.

“Jump rope. Nine minutes total.”

They find a spare rope for the other man, but he keeps getting his right foot caught.

“Drop your elbows some, when they’re too high it’s easier for the rope to catch.”

“Oh, thanks.”

His new gym buddy is winded when they’re done, but follows him eagerly over to the mats for his core workout. He’s better at that, though Joseph still has to correct the position of his back the first time. They move through cardio, weights, and cool down with no conversation that isn’t directly related to body position or technique. By the end, the newcomer is soaked with sweat. And..smiling?

“That was fucking brutal. Can we do it again some time?”

If you, um, really want to?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Joseph smiles back, “I’m here every day after work. So you can come find me…”

“Barclay” the taller man fills in his unasked question.

“Joseph. Oh, and try to get some shoes with better traction soon. You’ll have an easier time.”

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

“You okay there?” Barclay looks at Joseph from the treadmill on his left, “you seem kinda low energy today.”

“I ate too small a lunch.” He hits the stop button, walks as the belt slows, “I’ll be fine once I fish my power bar out of my glovebox on the way home.”

“Or you could, uh, you could come get dinner with me? There’s a great spot two blocks from here; it’s my favorite stop after you put me through my paces.”

Joseph thinks about downing a protein shake while wandering his empty apartment.

“That sounds great.”

Barclay leads him to a diner, all yellow lights and red pleather. His friend orders a stack of waffles and fried eggs (“I’m not a big fan of syrup”) while he opts for a french dip and, on Barclay’s recommendation, a chocolate malt. When the server asks if it’s one bill or two, Barclay pays for both of them.

“Least I can do in exchange for the free personal training you’re giving me.”

“It’s not like I mind” Joseph offers him access to his french fries, “I like working out with you. I’ve, um, never had a gym buddy before. UP agents are considered weirdos at work, I’m considered odd for one of them, and, well, you’ve done my workout; it intimidates some people.”

Barclay looks at him across the formica, beard still a bit mussed from drying it after his shower, “Yo--uh, I mean, it is pretty intimidating. But like, in a good way. The kind that makes you wanna push yourself.”

Joseph allows himself a flirtatious smile, “I’m glad you appreciate it.”

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

Barclay: gonna miss workout tomorrow. Got a date. Promise I’ll let you work me twice as hard on Friday.

J.S: Have fun. And you know I will, big guy.

Joseph slips his earbuds in; he’s gotten so used to their easy conversation that his best of the ‘00s playlist is jarring in it’s place. But he falls into his rhythm, is halfway through his workout when a tall, familiar shape in grey shorts hurries through the door and drops it’s water bottle next to his.

“Is everything okay?” He pops his headphones out as Barclay shakes his head.

“Date was a bust; guy was so pushy I bailed after one drink. Figured if I caught up with you the night wouldn’t totally suck.”

Joseph grabs a second mat, lays it out, “I can’t do dinner tonight; since I thought you were busy, tonight is for running errands.”

“No big.” Barclay lays next to him, their fingers brushing for a moment before Joseph counts them down.

As the evening ticks away in sets and reps, he gets increasingly worried about Barclay; his friend begs off both squats and rowing, and doesn’t join him for the ten minute cool-down jog on the treadmill. He hopes it’s just a side effect of having a beer before working out and not something more dire.

The locker room is empty on their side, and he finds Barclay leaning his forehead on the wall outside one of the shower cubicles, taking long, deliberate breaths. His shirt is off, but he’s still in his shorts. When he turns, startled by Joseph asking if he’s okay, it’s immediately obvious why.

“Sorry” Barclay is doing his best to conceal his hard-on, “this is hella embarrassing.”

“It happens” Joseph aims for a pleasant shrug even as his own cock starts acting up, “lots of friction and, um, and all that.”

“It’d be less humiliating if it was that. I, uh,” Barclay is redder than Joseph’s ever seen him, “I put a plug in before my date and, uh, I was in such a hurry to come find you once it ended that I, I didn’t take time to pull it out.”

He forces his voice to stay gentle, to not reveal the heat burbling up from his stomach, “You could have just asked me to wait a second once you got here.”

“Didn’t think of it until I sat down on the mat and realized how much I could feel the fucking thing. Like I, uh, I said, I kinda had a one track mind when I got here. I” his brown eyes are Bambi-wide when they skitter from Joseph’s gaze, “I wanted to see you.”

Shoes squeaking on the wet tile, Joseph nudges him into the stall, “Is that really it, big guy? You went through all that discomfort just for a few more seconds of being near me?”

“Uh huh” Barclay whimpers, his big, broad frame shaking when Joseph presses him against the wall.

“That’s sweet. Do you know what happens to sweet boys when they’re good?”

His friend shakes his head, hair catching across his eyes. Joseph tips his chin up, lips slightly parted in invitation. Barclay groans and drops his head down to meet him. It is, without a doubt, the messiest kiss of Joseph’s life, all sweat and odd angles like his first time in his boyfriend’s den in the July heat. The parallel is heightened by Barclay instantly grabbing his hips and humping him through his shorts.

“Joseph, babe, please, please say this is okay.” His hands tighten their hold when Joseph licks a stripe up his neck; it’s sweaty, sticky, the kind of thing he hates in porn but damn him if the doesn’t want to lick and suck Barclay until he can taste him in his sleep.

“No, it’s not.” Joseph cups his face to keep the panic he sees there at bay, “because if you cum like that, I won’t get to show you the rest of your reward.”

“Re-reward?” Barclay actually squeaks, and what can Joseph do at such a sound but kiss him once more.

“Shorts off, water on. I’ll be right back.”

Water obediently patters on the tiles as he shoves his hand deep into his gym bag; god bless emergency laundry quarters and bathroom vending machines.

He strips, joins Barclay in the shower and discovers his cock is even more pleasing than it’s outline suggested.

“Lord almighty, you’re gorgeous.” He lowers to his knees, traces the path of droplets through the hair on Barclays stomach and chest. Then he removes the first condom from its pack, rolls it down the thick cock that’s just tempting him to abandon his plan, then slips the second one on his finger.

“Fuck, this has gotta be a dream, right? Because it’s the same one I’ve jerked off to for fucking weeks.”

“No, big guy, it’s not.” Joseph reaches between Barclay legs, “oh shit, you’ve been wearing this all night?”

“AHnnnuhhuh” Barclay moans as Joseph toys with the base of the plug.

“And you still did a huge chunk of our workout. I’m impressed, big guy, impressed and very, very, very pleased.” He kisses his cock on each very, Barclay letting out an “uhn” at each one. As he slides the plug free he continues, “To think, your date was so unpleasant he missed out on not only your charm and your handsome face, but the fact you were prepared enough to prep for him.”

“His loss is my gain ohfuck, Joseph, baby, please-” Barclays cock bobs in the air as Joseph teases his ass. When he presses in Barclay gasps, Joseph praying the droplets hitting the walls lend any escaping sounds an air of plausible deniability.

“Nice and open. Good boy.” Joseph slowly works his finger in and out, building up to two almost immediately. He nuzzles Barclays cock, “do you always bottom?”

“M-most of the timeOH, god” His head lolls back when Joseph takes his cock into his mouth, sucking lazily as he fucks him open, “I like it, makes me feel taken care of.”

Joseph eases in a third finger, let’s his cock fall from his mouth as water collects in his eyelashes. Barclay is staring down at him, hair several shades darker as it plasters to his face and eyes hopeful.

“In that case” Joseph times his upstrokes to his thrusts, “how about you come to my place on Sunday? I’ve got a whole box of cocks to choose from; we could work our way through them.”

“Yes, ohfuckyesplease.”

“We could play around with positions too” He can see Barclay’s muscles flexing in new ways as he begins bucking his hips, chasing the tender pressure of Joseph’s fist, “I bet you look great on all fours, and I know what you look like with your ass in the air already. You in my lap, that could be fun--oh, ohshit” he laughs as Barclay nearly fucks himself off his fingers, “you like that, like the idea of sitting in my lap like the big, sweet boy you are while I fuck you, like the thought of cumming on my cock and then going to fetch the next one, of me not letting you stop until we’ve been thorough and found your favorite because that’s what you deserve-”

“Fuck!” Barclay moans, hands slipping on the tile as he floods the tip of the condom. Joseph adds “get tested” to his mental to-do list while the other man slides down the wall like a slasher victim until they’re face to face on the floor.

“You okay, big guy?”

“Can’t feel my legs.”

“That’s just the lunges talking.”

“Please” Barclay kisses his shoulder, “please let me suck your dick.”

Joseph smacks the handle until the water turns off, scrambles to his feet and clings to the “no-slip” bar as Barclay shoves his face between his legs. He sucks his cock, occasionally opening his mouth enough to licks his folds. He’s so eager, even tries fucking into him with his tongue, big hands groping his ass while Joseph stifles his moans in his forearm. He’s going to cum in the gym shower, he’s going to cum from his first blowjob in years, he’s coming to cum from the astounding, impossibly hot man below him who he intends to dom into next fucking week-

He cums hard, the hand not bracing him on the wall dropping down to stroke Barclays hair. After a moment, he tries to grab his towel from where he tossed it, Barclay smiling up at him.

“Hey, Joseph?”

“Yes? Hah, got you” He pulls the towel in.

“I was staring at your ass that first day. I mean, I was mostly looking at your form but there was for sure some ass appreciation.”

“I fucking knew it.” Joseph begins drying him off, “just for that you owe me dinner again.”

“Thought you had errands.”

“Shit. How do you feel about a romantic, pre-dinner Target run?”

“I’d love it.”

[away-from-anthills]

chapter two-

(prologue) (chapter one)

“Let all cats, old enough to catch their own prey…”

“Already?” muttered Stoatslink. A dash of doubt sat behind the white tom’s yellow eyes. “It’s been almost too soon for Shalestar to make a decision…”

Stoatslink’s tone stuck on Antstep like a burr. Had it been too soon? No- Shalestar had to know what he was doing. Antstep knew of Shalestar’s wisdom more than he knew of his own nest.

“Who do you think it’s going to be?” Russetfoot padded up next to him, his red tabby shoulder touching Antstep’s solid dark brown one. “I’d bet on Shadeflower, personally-“ -he beckoned with his tail to the dark gray tabby molly that sat at the edge of the nursery- “-but I think my brother could do a good job. My mate, too- but she wouldn’t want to follow her brother’s footsteps.”

Stripedwing and Rainleap had been close as kits, but had naturally drifted apart over time. She wanted to be a tunneler, and lacked ambition; he wanted to be a moor runner, and had had his sights on leadership since apprenticeship. There were no hard feelings between either of them- and Antstep recalled a dawn patrol not long ago where Rainleap said he intended to share tongues with his sister more.

Antstep had felt an envy towards Rainleap then. Rainleap, at least, had a sibling. Antstep had none.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Antstep realized Russetfoot was waiting on an answer from him. “So? What do you think? Did Shalestar tell you anything when he asked for you?”

“I- uh-“ Antstep tried to stall the conversation- but thankfully, Shalestar was already about to begin, and Russetfoot’s eyes had left Antstep to focus on the old scarred blue-gray tom.

“I realize it has been only a short while since I announced the loss of Rainleap to the Clan. However, we must follow the Warrior Code- even in unprecedented situations like this. I promised a new deputy by moonhigh, and my Clan shall get one. I have come to the conclusion of which WindClan member shall become your next deputy. I ask only that you be kind to him. He may not be an obvious choice, but with a bit of experience as deputy, he will learn quickly.”

It felt as all the Clan were eyeing each other. Half of Antstep wanted to puff out his chest with pride. The other half, meanwhile, wanted to shrink inwards and disappear.

“I say these words now, before StarClan, so our ancestors- Rainleap among them, now- may hear and approve of my choice. The new deputy of WindClan… is Antstep.”

There was a silence of deliberation for a moment, and then a gasp or two. Molethroat and Cherrycloud, who were near the back of the sandy hollow by the nursery, seemed to approve. Rockscratch and Russetfoot seemed to be in what Antstep could only assume was awe. He had never felt what it was like to cause awe before.

But there was a tense feeling among some of the others. Talonscar, their eyes still dimmed from mourning their former apprentice, sat in silence, shifting their weight from one paw to another. Sandwhisker looked pleased, but even she seemed to have some doubt about Shalestar’s choice, despite being particularly close to him. Antstep flattened his ears against his chestnut-colored fur as he scaled the rock to stand besides his leader.

“Again, I know he is perhaps not what you expected. But I mentored him myself, and it was I who brought him to WindClan when he was but a kit. I feel like I know Antstep particularly well- he reminds me of myself, when I was about his age. And I was about his age when Marigoldstar elected me as deputy, back before many of you were even born. It may take him a while to learn the ropes as deputy- but when he gets the hang of it, I promise you, he shall be a great deputy- and, perhaps… a great leader, once I pass on.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Antstep felt his spine coil. That sharp voice belonged to only one cat in the Clan- Sparkthistle. The ginger molly, with bright stripes and a snout that turned slightly upwards, pushed her way to the front of the hollow. “You’re telling us, Shalestar, that you’re replacing Rainleap with this sad sack? He’s not even a proper WindClan cat! He’s just your pet project! There’re so many cats in this Clan- and you choose that excuse of a warrior? He can’t even manage his own apprentice, let alone-“

“Sparkthistle, I am your leader,” Shalestar commanded, a fleck of anger on his tongue. “If you have any complaints, you can talk to me or Whitetooth in the morning.”

Sparkthistle opened her mouth as if she had something more to say- but, she began to flounder, and the shrewish molly backed away into the crowd. Cherrycloud rather embarrassed on Sparkthistle’s behalf, slinking back into the nursery den with Molethroat beside her.

“Meeting dismissed. Webwhisker, Stoatslink, remember it is your duty to keep guard over the camp tonight.”

As WindClan retreated to their dens, and Webwhisker and Stoatslink climbed the walls of the sandy hollow to assume the night watch, the coiled nervousness in Antstep’s belly began to loosen. He left the Tallrock and flexed his claws into the sand below. The moon- which was at the very center of the sky- looked downward upon him, and the hollow was filled with a certain stillness. The cicadas and crickets sang in the distance, and a curious hope began to flow through Antstep’s veins as his amber eyes locked with the moon’s pale one.

I’m WindClan deputy now… it’s my chance! They’re going to finally love me! I’m going to be the best deputy I can be…

It dawned on Antstep that he was not the only one there. He turned to see Whitetooth. The WindClan medicine cat seemed as if they were still analyzing him. They were nearly all white- the color of slightly stale milk- except for their ears, a spot or two on their back, and their tail, which was plumy and brown like a female pheasant.

“I look forward to our partnership and- if you’ll allow me to say it- friendship, Antstep,” they said simply. “As deputy and medicine cat. If you ever need anything- all you have to do is ask.”

Antstep nodded. Even the medicine cat wants to be my friend!

As Whitetooth slunk into their medicine den, where Marblepaw was already fast asleep, Antstep contemplated. He climbed the edge of the sandy hollow- away from Webwhisker and Stoatslink’s positions- and looked towards the east, where the sun would rise and where the marigolds grew.

 As sunlight crept into the clearing the next day, Antstep immediately began to try and plot out what his first patrol would be. This was, after all, one of the most important deputy duties. He had to get it just right. Suddenly, the confidence he had had earlier dissipated. What will the Clan think of me if I’m not able to plan this out right? They already hate me, don’t they…

“Well, you may be a good hunter- but I’m far better!”

“You’re not!” “Am too!”

There was a squeal as Twigpaw, in the heat of this little spat, launched himself onto Spiderpaw, grabbing onto her shoulder. However, she was too quick. The dark gray tabby molly shook herself, and Twigpaw let go as soon as he had latched on. She then jumped over and pinned the smaller brown tabby tom onto the sandy earth. As he grunted and tried to free himself, she stood triumphantly.

“Spiderpaw, let him go,” Antstep instructed. She gave it a moment of thought, and- after pushing down on Twigpaw for a moment- let him go. He stuck his tongue out at her.

“Well, just remember, Twigpaw- my mom’s the leading queen and my mentor’s the deputy.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” warned Antstep, curling his paw around her feet to make sure she didn’t jump back out at him. “If I mess up too bad, you wouldn’t want to even look at me, now, would you?”

“Depends,” she said slyly, her lips curled upward like the biting adder. “But it means I have two on Twigpaw.” She grinned. “Hey, maybe when you’re leader, you could make my mom Shadeflower your deputy! Then Twigpaw won’t even be able to lay a paw on me.”

“Don’t get too ahead of me,” said Antstep. “It’s my first day. …Say, would you like to go on the dawn patrol this morning? You haven’t been out on it in a while.”

Spiderpaw nodded enthusiastically. Antstep felt proud of himself- but then the worries began to nip at his paws again. There’s no way that’s going to work! They’ll all think I’m favoring my own apprentice over the others! What other apprentices are there… Goldenpaw was on patrol just yesterday… Maybe Milkpaw or Coalpaw?...

“You’re up early,” yawned a sleek blue-gray tom. His shadow was identical to Shalestar’s; however, he was a tad shorter and far younger. A white bib-shaped marking covered his chin and chest.

“Oh. Hello, Toadpool,” said Antstep, nodding to acknowledge the blue-and-white cat’s presence.

“I think you’re going to do just fine as deputy.”

“Wh- what makes you say that?” said Antstep. Was his anxiousness that obvious already?

“Deputy jitters,” explained Toadpool, shrugging. “Everyone gets it. Even Grandpa told me that he had them. You’ll do just fine- I trust his choices, after all.”

Toadpool was right. Shalestar had a good head on his shoulders, and neither of them had a reason to doubt him.

“I’m trying to figure out the dawn patrol,” explained Antstep. “I was thinking Spiderpaw and your apprentice Milkpaw could take it this morning. Would you- uh- like to come along?”

“Sure! But you don’t have to ask, you know. Deputies usually just kind of say who’s going on patrol or not.”

Right. Antstep already felt hot embarrassment on his face.

“I have an idea. I can come with you and try to calm your nerves a bit. We can bring our apprentices, too. Maybe you could also take Rockscratch and Sparkthistle? I know you don’t like Sparkthistle and she doesn’t like you, but maybe you could talk it out…”

It was a naïve suggestion. But Antstep didn’t have the heart to tell Toadpool that.

“Sure.”

“Great! I know Grandpa will give you some tips and stuff, but I can tell you if there’s anything I know. And we can train our apprentices together.” He looked over to where Spiderpaw was- she was busy chasing down a centipede that had weaseled its way into the den. “Be careful of her,” he joked. “She’ll eat you alive.”

“Takes a brave one to be her mentor,” Antstep joked back, puffing out his chest with pride.

 The sun’s lazy red eye began to peer over the earth, and Antstep’s first patrol slithered through the WindClan grass. It was a quiet morning, and the world seemed as though part of it had stood completely still since Rainleap’s death. Dew stuck to their pelts as they schlepped themselves along the trail.

“If Rainleap were here…” said Sparkthistle in the back of the small group, muttering something off-key to herself. Rockscratch, who was just in front of her, distanced himself.

But Antstep tried to keep his worries behind him, crowded around Sparkthistle instead of wandering to his head. It was his first day, after all. Anything could happen. He could worry later, with the comforts of Shalestar and Whitetooth there to listen.

Spiderpaw ran up to him with a fat mole in her mouth. “Look!” she said, in the muffled way cats do when their mouths are crammed full. “Milkpaw showed me how to catch it. You have to feel their tunnels beneath your paws, and you gotta have the right timing. She told me it’s a tunneler skill. Maybe I should show you how, someday…”

Antstep watched Toadpool sign a joke to Milkpaw, who responded with throaty laughter. He didn’t get the punchline- it was something to do with tunneling, which he had never been familiar with- but he began to think. Why hadn’t Shalestar chosen Toadpool? Shalestar was also fairly close to Toadpool, and had watched him grow up in a similar way as he had with Antstep, although the leader had not mentored him. Toadpool even had something Antstep did not: Toadpool was the son of one of Shalestar’s children, who had perished in that forest fire around the time Antstep had been found by a WindClan patrol.

But then it truly sunk into him, as he watched Toadpool and Sparkthistle converse. He was trying to let her on in the joke, but she responded with overdone apathy, flattening her ears tight like they were strapped to her skull to get him to shut up. Toadpool was too ineffective; too naïve. Tatteredstar and Pigeonstar could tear him apart with one word.

He would make for a great friend. Perhaps a deputy- but as a leader? He would fall apart like dried leaves in a fire, up there on that Great Rock.

Antstep knew Shalestar had to have chosen him for a reason.

But he couldn’t think of what that reason was.

 -

The next few days went by with little incident. Patrols were organized; patrols were sent. Occasionally, when he was out with them, Antstep would see the wandering eye of RiverClan or ShadowClan cats, from deep within their own territories.

Did they notice a change?

Could they tell something was different?

Antstep did not know what he wanted the answer to those questions to be.

The camp was quiet. Besides his few friends, Antstep found himself once again a stranger in his own- or was it ever his own?- land. Perhaps the death of Rainleap weighed his Clan down too much still- this is what Antstep wanted to believe. But there was always this great, nagging feeling that sat on Antstep’s haunches- do they like me enough? What if they hate me? What if, on the night I become leader, they’re all going to kill me together? What if-

But Antstep tried to take solace in the fact that Shalestar was always there. Shalestar knew what he was doing. Shalestar would teach him all he needed to know. He’d learn.

It was a briar that shattered that thought.

 It was an overcast day- the kind of overcast where the clouds look like a big, unraveling blanket; the kind of overcast that makes your head feel heavy with the promise of an oncoming storm. Antstep was taking a few of the apprentices out into the heart of the moors to learn some hunting techniques.

“Now, the key to catching a good rabbit is to know what way to chase it,” Antstep said. “Some of you have caught one of them before. And that is very good! But you need to have a plan.”

“You could raid a rabbit nest,” said Spiderpaw, in that sort of smart-alecky way that was practically her second language. “Bunch of little rabbits in there right for the taking.”

“Ah, but what about rabbits who live in burrows? And what about getting the proper taste of grown rabbit meat?” That- and Antstep always felt a bit of pity, raiding nests and newborns like that. He assumed an almost exaggerated posture and tried to project his voice towards them. “What you have to have is a plan. You have to know how to corner it. The rabbit’s always going to run away from you, and it’ll outrun you nearly all of the time. What you have, that the rabbit doesn’t, is strength in numbers. You need to drive it towards your Clanmates and pounce from all sides.“

The apprentices nodded in unison.

“Now- look, there’s one now. All of you, position yourselves here. Crouch down and hold steady. I’m going to chase it here, and when I give the word, leap.”

Antstep hunkered himself down into the grasses and slunk around it in a great circle. The rabbit turned its head, and for a short moment there was stillness between the two. Then it bounded away, slowly gaining momentum as Antstep broke into chase. Faster and faster, becoming rhythmic with the land below and the sky above- until Antstep recognized the shapes of the apprentices ahead, hiding below patches of Queen Anne’s Lace.

“Now!”

Goldenpaw and Twigpaw leapt from one way, and Spiderpaw and Coalpaw from another. Goldenpaw grabbed onto its chest and pulled it to the earth, Twigpaw grabbed its head by the front of its throat and pushed it back as far as he could. Spiderpaw grabbed its midsection, and Coalpaw pinned the legs to the earth to prevent the leporid from kicking further. There was a struggle, there was a finality, and then it was gone, as if the soul had slipped straight out of the meat.

“Very well done! Now, you see how I made sure to go in a big circle around it? That’s so it’s tricked into running this direction. If I went right towards it, it’d run away. If I went at it from the side, it’d run away. I’m going to show all of you how to chase rabbits one by one. Hopefully, we’ll make more successful catches, and we’ll have plenty to restock the fresh-kill pile with by the time we return to camp around sundown.”

He took the corpse of the freshly-killed rabbit with him, straddling it with his front legs, and the group quietly moved to another location a bit north of where they initially where. “Now, be careful,” said Antstep. “There’s a briar patch over there- the rabbit’s going to be smart enough to avoid it, so we must plan around it.” He pointed his tail towards where a big, bracken-colored mass of twisted thorny branches lay. The apprentices nodded- but not without Spiderpaw whispering a joke to Goldenpaw about how likely it’d be that Coalpaw or Twigpaw would get themselves tangled in it.

They can handle it.

There was the sound of a soft crunching of plant stems in the distance.

“There’s another,” said Antstep. “Here. Coalpaw, come with me.”

Coalpaw was bigger and heavier than the other apprentices- a cat built for fights, but not so much the hunt. Antstep figured he could go first, as he might take longer to learn the speed and stealth involved with rabbit-hunting. Antstep hunkered down again, Coalpaw followed, and carefully, slowly, the circled back around to the rabbit. Just like last time, they gave chase, and the two cats started to herd the rabbit. Antstep felt his paws go faster and faster, his muscles slowly easing to let sheer momentum swing his feet, the earth moving below him.

“Now!”

He leapt onto the rabbit, and again the other three apprentices leapt, there was a moment of struggle, a moment of release, and then Twigpaw and Spiderpaw declaring victory.

Antstep felt very, very pleased with himself until he heard a voice behind him.

“Help me! Antstep! Help!” He turned to see Coalpaw. Evidently, during the chase, the young tom had tripped himself on a pebble and sent himself flying into the briar patch, where he lay now. He was not particularly stuck, but Antstep could see he needed someone to pull him out.

“Hold on, Coalpaw, I’m…” He got a good look at the briar patch. The earth below it was lower than the rest of the ground, and there was a definite incline between the two surfaces. If Antstep were to pull out Coalpaw, he’d need to watch his step.

“I’m coming. Here, Goldenpaw, hold onto my back foot.”

He felt Goldenpaw grip his back ankle with her teeth. He grimaced at the feeling for a moment, and then leaned over the edge into the briar patch. He grabbed onto one of Coalpaw’s legs.

“Shut your eyes and make yourself go limp, so the branches don’t scratch as much.”

Coalpaw did so, and then Antstep thrusted him out in one quick motion. But as he did, he felt Goldenpaw suddenly let go of him on accident. Coalpaw managed to scramble out onto the grassy pathway as Antstep plunged into the briar patch backwards and belly-up.

Dammit!

Antstep wriggled himself back and forth to try and get back upright, but the briars further tightened around him. He clenched his teeth, trying to thrash himself free, but he only slunk deeper and deeper into the briar patch. Panic seized him as he watched the apprentices crowd around to watch their own deputy make an absolute fool of himself.

And then, finally, he gave up.

“Twigpaw, can you send for a patrol?”

 “Well, well. Look who got himself stuck,” said a familiar unenthused voice. It was Sparkthistle, accompanied by Webwhisker and Emberheart. “Our own deputy can’t even get himself out of a stack of twigs.” “It’s a bit more than that,” said Webwhisker, cringing with sympathy.

“Here.” Emberheart slowly nosed her way into the briars and grabbed Antstep’s right foot. “Sparkthistle, you get the other one. Webwhisker, help us pull him out.”

Sparkthistle hesitated, and then grabbed Antstep’s left foot. The two mollies yanked him free- Sparkthistle a bit more forceful- and Webwhisker pushed him as soon as they had pried out his torso. Antstep flipped over onto his feet, his head dizzy from having been upside down.

“You’ve got a lot of scratches from it,” said Webwhisker. “You should see Whitetooth, I think.”

“For just that?” snarked Sparkthistle.

“I worry about it getting infected, that’s all.”

“It is rather bad,” Emberheart said as she inspected Antstep’s flank. “He’s lucky his ears and eyes are in one place.”

Great- I’m not even leader yet and I’m already incompetent enough that I nearly lost my eyesight!

“I can continue on with the apprentices,” offered Webwhisker. The two mollies waited to see Antstep’s reaction; he responded with a nod after some contemplation.

And so, Antstep, Sparkthistle, and Emberheart walked back to camp.

 “’Tis not too bad,” said Whitetooth, inspecting Antstep’s myriad of scratches as they wrapped him in cobwebs. “You shall be on your feet within a couple of days. But it is important you rest so infection does not begin. Lie down on the nest Marblepaw prepared for you on the right. Avoid Shalestar, you don’t want him to give you illness.”

“Illness? Shalestar?” Sure, Antstep had noted the leader was a bit slow the past few days, but he hadn’t ever noticed he smelled of sickness. He watched as Marblepaw- a little brown tabby molly, nearly identical to her brother Twigpaw- carefully inspected the sleeping leader, who’s eyes were crusty and who’s fur had became oily from a lack of cleaning himself.

“Mild whitecough, with fever. We have enough tansy for it, but it is worrying given his age. …May I talk to you in private?”

The two cats exited the medicine cat den and sat on the edge of the sandy hollow. Droplets of rain began to fall from the sky, speckling the earth.

“…I suspect that Shalestar may not be long for this world. He may leave us sooner than he expected to.”

Antstep felt something inside himself, black and shivering, begin to coil. “You mean-“

“…This is mild whitecough, and it’s wrecked him. If he doesn’t pass of this- something else is going to come along, and it will be far, far worse.”

Antstep felt like he was going to vomit. He couldn’t even match wits with briars- and now, less than a moon since Rainleap died, less than a moon since he had become deputy at all, before he had even attended a Gathering, here he was. It felt as if a great shadow stood over him, one that only he could feel, who bristled the fur on his spine and clamped its paws on his shoulders.

“… What shall we do? I- I can’t be leader now! I barely got to be deputy! What will the Clan think? What will the other leaders think? What if they think I killed him? I can’t have that on my record, I can’t-“

“Calm yourself, Antstep.” Whitetooth’s voice was deep but smooth, like thick greenleaf tree-sap. “Take heart. You are not the first or the last cat to become leader on such short notice, and I am sure the other leaders will understand as will our Clan. Elsewise- I will be here for you. You know me to be very compassionate.”

The first thunders of a storm began to rumble in the distance.

“Please trust me, for the good of the Clan. …Now, rest. If our beloved leader passes within the next few days from this illness, take solace in that you will be there for him.”

Anstep nodded, and as the rain developed into downpour, the two cats headed back inside.

 Shalestar slipped away, later that night, long after all but Whitetooth and Antstep fell asleep; his last words were faint mumblings too obscured by the thunder outside to understand. It was a slow and very peaceful death- the eyes closed, the breathing stopped, the muscles suddenly went limp. Whitetooth placed two leaves over his eyes and positioned the body flat and compact, like he was crouching forever, so when the Clan would visit his body before the burial the next day he would not look too ill. When he died, there was a moment where the clouds unweaved themselves, and a small patch of starlight lit the center of the sandy hollow.

It was over now, and it had begun.

Antstep awoke as Antstar two days afterward.

[nxrthmizu]

the tears i cried for you

━━━━━━━༓☾☆☽༓━━━━━━━

pairing | iwaizumi hajime x oikawa tooru 

words | 1.5k 

genre | angst, star tears disease!au 

author’s note | i’ve thought about this one for a while and finally got to writing it at 12.15am and yes its’ midnight but oh hell apparently i produce better work when everyone else’s asleep so oops 

━━━━━━━༓☾☆☽༓━━━━━━━

in a world where unrequited feelings would result in sharp-edged, star-shaped tears, crushes could be deadly. ‘love’ was a fragile topic that people thread around like it was shards of glass— no one was willing to love if it meant putting their sight on the line for it.

reciprocation was considered a miracle, a blessing. if you wanted love— well, you needed to be brave enough to take the risk, and you needed to be strong enough to face the consequences of rejection.

unfortunately, oikawa was neither.

he was neither brave enough to confess, nor strong enough to face the consequences. and yet, he let himself dream.

he let himself hope.

he let himself love.

the relationship between a setter and a spiker is an intricate one, they said. oikawa believed the phrase whole-heartedly. there was no relationship more intricate than the one between him and the ace of seijoh— words were never needed between them, not on the court, not during their arguments, not...

despite the telepathic connection that tooru convinced himself that they had— hajime just never got the hint.

i love you.

courage? oikawa had none of it. not when it came to facing his denied feelings for his best friend. and honestly, who the hell would want to admit it? it wasn’t as if hajime was showing signs of returning his affection— oikawa wasn’t going to be so stupid as to confess, to bungee jump off a cliff without a rope—

even across the cafeteria, oikawa could clearly make out what the girl was saying.

“i... i like you. could— can you be my boyfriend?” words couldn’t express how much oikawa admired her. confessions took courage. confessions took risk-taking. confessions took putting your sight on the line, because rejection meant star-shaped tears.

tooru thought he knew pain. afterall, it seemed that fate had hated him from the moment he was born, so pain had always been the feeling he knew best.

but the pain of defeat, the pain of not-being-good-enough, the pain of never achieving his dreams was nothing compared to the agony that shot through his chest like an arrow when his eyes traced the outline of hajime’s words, along with the slight tint of a smile and the shy red flag of a blush.

“sure.”

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don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t—

a drop of blood dribbled down from his lips, vermillion against the pale hue of his skin. along with the red droplet came a crystalline, star-shaped structure smaller than the nail of tooru’s pinkie.

a tear.

he caught it before it shattered into a million, minuscule pieces across his bedroom floor, cradling the tiny glass-like structure in his hands. a bitter curiosity was set alight in his eyes as he inspected the tear— in all honestly, he would have found it beautiful if it wasn’t for that fact that too many of the tears would end his volleyball career.

before he knew it, three more tears fell. and after that, another five. and ten. then twenty, and countless more. a string of crystalline structures grazed his skin after they pierced his eyes like a thousand ice needles, dropping onto his palm and some shattering on the floor, a cacophony of tiny little xylophones making contact with the ground.

in the midst of pain and bitterness, tooru came to a life-changing realisation. one that made a small part of him bite back angrily, i told you so.

he was heartbroken.

angrily, he shook the sorrow away, blinking back the sting in his eyes. a sting that he was sure he’d feel again, and when he did, the intensity was going get worse and worse until it met the end of his sight.

the clinking of the crystal-like tears was strangely satisfying, tooru thought as he gently placed them, one by one, into a glass jar. when he was finished, he shook the jar gently, relishing in the chime-like tinks of tears darting across the smooth base of the glass.

his eyes, now in lesser pain than before, flicked over to a framed photo he had on his desk— one of him and hajime, both at an age where crushes were silly and laughable things. their arms were over each others’ shoulders, and even though their faces were scratched and bathed in mud, they were both grinning, happy and without a care in the world.

if only he could go back to a time when hajime was just a friend.

━━━━━━━༓☾☆☽༓━━━━━━━

if you asked him to pinpoint the exact time that he started to avoid hajime, tooru wouldn’t be able to give you an answer. it started off subtle— mentioning that he had to rush home to help his mom with some chores, having to head to school earlier to finish some homework he left under his desk— all meaningless, instinctive lies that slipped from his lips without a second thought. if hajime found them suspicious, he didn’t say anything, too preoccupied with walking his new girlfriend to school. well, it was for the better— oikawa didn’t know how he would feel if he had to walk with both hajime and his girlfriend to school.

but eventually, it became more and more obvious that tooru was doing his best to cut his best friend out of his life— as much as he could, anyway. he hadn’t cried since the first time, and he would very much like to keep it that way. the amount of crystalline tears in the jar had not increased, and he preferred it like that.

“hey, what’s wrong?” iwaizumi confronted him, at long last, as they were shedding sweat-soaked shirts in the locker room. unintentionally, the setter flinched away from his touch, hajime’s hand retracting back in surprise, retreating from its’ former position on the setter’s shoulder.

“what do you mean what’s wrong?” oikawa answered with a laugh, anxiety boiling under the facade of a flirtatious attitude. “i’m as fine as a dandy, iwa-chan. what, are you worried about me?”

silence vibrated through the locker room as the other players shared nervous looks— tooru’s avoidance of his ace had been pretty obvious to everyone else, it was just that no one wanted to speak up. the pair typically resolved their problems sooner or later, except that it had been three months.

“yes.” the ace replied, staring into oikawa’s eyes with an expression that the latter couldn’t quite decipher, “i am.”

they left the conversation at that, for which oikawa was relieved. hajime never pushed anymore from then onwards, but there always seemed to be something that he wanted to say but left unsaid. words became abundant, and while that worked for them before, tooru wasn’t heartbroken before.

thoughts used to fill the space in between them— just by glancing at the impatient tapping of oikawa’s fingers, hajime could tell that his best friend was hungry for milk bread— but times changed, and so did oikawa. the setter became unreadable, and with no words to cue him, the ace lost track of his best friend’s thoughts, and somewhere along the line, he lost track of his best friend, too.

━━━━━━━༓☾☆☽༓━━━━━━━

“tooru, there you are!” tooru’s mother chastised with a frown. “where were you? hajime’s been waiting for you upstairs for at least fifteen minutes. i thought the two of you walked back together?”

the brown-haired teen froze in his footsteps, hand still held mid-air, fingers outstretched to slip off his shoes. “he’s... upstairs?” tooru whispered in horror. he could only think of one thing, displayed in all its’ disgraceful glory, sitting on his desk, right next to his laptop—

the jar.

“it’s not what it—!” the door to tooru’s room slammed open, the setter meeting his best friend’s eyes as the latter looked up, jar held in hand like a precious artefact, a fragile, priceless object that had to be treated with utmost care.

“it’s not what it looks like?” hajime’s voice was soft, softer than tooru thought achievable by the normally-loud ace. an essence of betrayal, of hurt, of guilt— of all things— howled from inside his tone, and still hajime kept his composure, waiting, patient for the setter’s reply.

more than before, silence sat in the space between them, the wordless understanding that they used to have a distant memory belonging to the past. neither said a word; neither wanted to. quietly, hajime set the jar back onto the table, where it had been before the ace stepped into the setter’s room uninvited.

“why didn’t you say anything?” hajime asked quietly.

the setter swallowed, willing himself not to cry— at least not in front of hajime, “you looked happy. she looked happy.”

“and so you let yourself suffer?” a raging storm of emotions were coursing through the ace’s eyes, his fury rising on behalf of his best friend. “why the hell would you do that?”

oikawa looked into his best friend’s eyes, a sudden swoll of courage taking him by storm, dragging him down like the undercurrent of a tsunami. “because I love you,” he said softly, still looking into hajime’s eyes to meet quietened winds. “that’s why.”

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haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours ​@knmiakira @rirk-ke @cemeiia [Send an ask to be added to by general haikyuu!! taglist]

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (43) || atz

It’s a fine day once more.

The morning sun shines down upon the Treasure, its golden rays touching your cheeks as you glance up at the sky. It’s been peaceful the last few days, and you’ve heard from Yeosang that your captain has begun considering sailing back to Nassau so that Seonghwa can visit his childhood friends Seohyun and Soobin.

The cook’s been in a much more cheerful mood for the last few days after hearing those words, excited about seeing how their baby is coming along. He can’t stop gushing to you in the kitchen about how cute he thinks the baby is going to be, worrying endlessly whether they’re going to be alright, to the point that you’ve resorted to stuffing bread rolls in his mouth to keep him quiet so that he can focus on his cooking.

You don’t him to end up with two less fingers like Soobin.

After preparing breakfast with Seonghwa, you’re now seated in the rigging swaying back on forth with the wind, letting the sun warm your face as you prepare for another day ahead.

“I can’t wait to get back onto dry land.” Yunho comments with a groan from above you on the main mast, hanging upside down from the ropes. You glance up at him with a smile, shielding your eyes against the sun.

“I’m sure Jongho could always throw you overboard if you’re sick of being on the ship.”

High pitched laughter comes from beside you and you turn to see Wooyoung swinging over from the mizzen mast, grinning as he steps over to you, expertly keeping his balance on the yardarm. He’s surprisingly steady on his feet, considering the last time you’d seen him yesterday, he was screaming drunken insults about Yunho’s apparent pea sized brain for not understanding how the mizzen mast was the better of the two. He bows mockingly, gesturing to the sparkling ocean far below you.

“Maybe you’d like to go for a swim, your majesty?” Wooyoung jibes, barely able to keep the snicker out of his voice. The lookout tosses his shoe at his friend and Wooyoung ducks easily, catching it in his hand.

“Be silent, you knave.” Yunho grumbles, now missing a shoe. Reclining against the ropes, he gazes at the horizon with a steady eye, body bobbing up and down with the pitch and roll of the ship. “I still haven’t forgotten the last time you pushed me off the yardarm to save your own ass and I fell into the sea because of you.”

You raise your eyebrows as you glance at a shamelessly grinning Wooyoung, who is neither denying nor confirming it. Knowing the head gunner, however, it’s probably… no, definitely true. “How did that happen?”

Wooyoung opens his mouth to answer, but before the silver tongued charmer can say another word, Yunho cuts in, obviously knowing full well Wooyoung is going to twist the story upside down to his own advantage.

“We were on the main mast, arguing about how the main mast is obviously the better mast,” Yunho begins with a haughty tone, ignoring Wooyoung’s cry of indignation. “When San was at the wheel he stupidly beached the Treasure on the shore and the whole ship jerked. I, being the better rigging monkey, caught my balance, but Wooyoung-”

You unconsciously grip the ropes beneath you a little tighter, suddenly wary of falling off the mast yourself. Ahh. So that’s why no one on the ship trusts San with the wheel. You sometimes wonder how they even trusted him with their injuries in the first place.

“I’m a better rigging monkey than you!” Wooyoung splutters in outrage, but Yunho flat out pays no attention to him, continuing with his tale. “As I was saying, I caught my balance but Wooyoung fell. I was reaching down to save him, but then he grabbed my arm-”

“I didn’t need any saving-”

“And I fell off instead! It’s twice as bad because he stayed on the mast and I didn’t!”

“I was perfectly capable on staying on the mast myself, thank you very much.” Wooyoung grumbles, but Yunho isn’t listening to him in the slightest. In fact, he’s so pumped up with ranting that he’s starting to wave his long arms around like a windmill, complaints spilling from his mouth completely unchecked.

“And do you know what else he did? During a battle at sea, he even jumped onto the main mast on purpose! My precious main mast! The crow’s nest got blown off, you know? That’s like the head of the mast!’

You’re starting to lose Yunho to this silly argument, having no idea where this is going.

“Why is it Wooyoung’s fault the main mast got hit?”

Yunho stares at you as if the answer is obvious. “Because he’s so ugly everyone tries to shoot him.”

“What did you say, Yun Hoe?” Wooyoung screeches in the background like an offended pigeon. “Haven’t you forgotten that time you grabbed onto the mizzenmast sail and ended up tearing a huge hole in it? You defiled my beautiful mizzenmast and exposed her for everyone to see!”

You’re utterly lost from this conversation now, baffled as to why any of this matters in the first place. “Come on, guys…”

“You blew the mainmast’s head off!”

“You shamed the mizzenmast in front of the whole crew! The disgrace, Yun Hoe, the disgrace-”

“Oh yeah?” Yunho actually looks furious now, drawing his cutlass from his side. Panicking, you turn to Wooyoung, expecting him to use that glib tongue of his to somehow worm his way out of the antsy situation, but you’re shocked to see that he’s drawn his own blade as well, looking every bit ready to fight Yunho.

“Come at me, Yun Hoe!”

“It’s on, Poo Young!”

Sighing at their antics and the sheer stupidity of it all, you turn around to glance at the sea before you. It’s the same as before, an endless expanse of shimmering, deep blue as clouds drift past the horizon, sun shining-

Wait.

Frowning, you block out the sounds of Wooyoung and Yunho’s ridiculous squabbling, leaning forward to squint at the delicate line separating the ocean from the sky. Puffs of white clouds are rolling across the blue sky, but there seems to be a patch of white moving in a different direction from the others.

“What’s that?” The words leave your lips in a mutter, but Yunho hears it even over his argument with Wooyoung. His eyes narrow warily even as he sheathes his cutlass, stepping over to you.

“What is it?” He asks you and you point far into the distance, trying to understand how that one white shape is moving towards you instead of away from you, like the rest of the clouds are.

“That cloud is acting weird.” You tell him, feeling Wooyoung step towards you from behind, curious as to what is happening.

Suddenly, Yunho stiffens next to you, staring at the white shape. Frowning, you turn to ask him exactly what has gotten him to tense, but Wooyoung seems to realise it as well, fingers tightening on your shoulder unconsciously, all traces of his argument with Yunho vanishing in sight of the odd cloud.

“That’s not what I think it is, am I right?”

Yunho chews on his lower lip. “But why would any of ship be out here?”

You finally realise it now. The white shape that’s growing in size is actually a sail, starkly contrasting against the blue sky behind it. A chill runs down your back as you lean forward unconsciously, trying to catch a better glimpse of it, but Wooyoung pulls you back before you can fall over.

“Wouldn’t want you taking a dip now.” Wooyoung tries to smile at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s obvious that he’s worried at what the sight of this white sail could mean, considering it could be a simple merchant ship or even a Royal Navy frigate.

The three of you wait with baited breath as the ship grows in size.

Then suddenly, as if they can read each other’s minds, Wooyoung and Yunho both freeze at the same time, the very tension in the air sends a shiver down your entire body. You turn to glance at the two of them, confused as to why they’re acting this way.

“What is it?”

“It’s them.” Yunho spits as he stares at the horizon, seeing the snowy white sails crest the waves. You frown, unable to see as clearly, leaning forward and squinting to see what exactly could be causing your two fellow rigging monkeys so much distress.

Wooyoung curses, baring his teeth as he leaps to the ropes as fast as he can. “I’m going to tell Captain.” With that, he slides to the main deck with an urgency you’ve rarely seen in him, in such contrast to his usually easy-going and cheerful self.

But then you catch sight of it and your own eyes widen in horror.

On the sails fluttering in the wind is a red shape, starkly contrasting against the snow white background.

The same sigil decorating the shoulders of the coat you had woken up with.

The symbol on the red wax seals of Lucio’s letters.

The emblem of a crimson rose.

Your heart sinks in your chest.

It’s the Royal Navy.

“Damnit.” Yunho curses under his breath, fingers tightening on the handle of his cutlass. He’s afraid of what this might mean, for the crew and for him. How did they find you here? Was it simply by chance? Or have they been tracking you somehow? “We’re going to get into a huge battle again. I hope you’re ready for a fight, Chin Hae.”

“Is it stupid to hope that they’re not here to kill us?” You mumble under your breath but Yunho snorts, shaking his head.

“We literally all have bounties stamped on us. There are rewards of up to five hundred gold pieces for our captain’s head. Fifty for each crew mate. Two hundred for San. Two hundred fifty for Jongho and I. Three hundred for Mingi and Wooyoung.” He exhales shakily, staring as the blood red rose grows ever closer. “If they don’t want to kill us, I’ll eat my own shoe… and Wooyoung’s at that.”

You laugh nervously, trembling fingers seeking his and gripping tight as you watch your impending doom. “Want to raise the stakes?”

“I’ll even admit the mizzenmast is better.” Yunho mumbles uneasily under his breath. Just as he says those words, the sound of a iron bar being struck repeatedly rings throughout the air and the deck floods with activity, the crew swarming to the bulwarks to search for the impending threat. He pushes you lightly to the ropes. “You should go. San will want you with him when the action starts.”

Nerves rise up in you, but you force it down and slide down the rigging, careful not to burn your hands on the ropes from friction. You drop onto the deck, making your way to the quarterdeck where you had last seen your master.

To your surprise, Yeosang is there as well, Mingi at the stairs bellowing orders to the crew to ready the cannons and prepare for battle. You hear the sound of the cannon carriages being wheeled to their spots, the powder monkeys running about in organised drills to ferry the gunpowder to their guns. All of the crew are readying their weapons for battle, suiting up and loading their muskets.

Tension runs high in the air and adrenaline in your veins as you step to the railing, where Yeosang and San are. Wooyoung must have headed to the gunwales to handle his powerful cannons, the long nine and the 42 pounder, the two most deadly and lethal weapons on the Treasure. San reaches for your hand nervously, squeezing it tight.

“Are you scared?” He asks, and you don’t bother lying to him.

“Yes.”

You hate the way your voice cracks even though you’ve been in battle twice already, once with the Royal Navy before and the other on Nassau. You wish you were braver than this, but you can’t stare death in the eye without the slightest whit of fear like your captain and Yunho and Jongho can.

Yeosang takes your other hand, and even though his face is ashen and pale, he still pats your hand comfortingly.

“Don’t worry.”

You’re reminded of the first time you had been attacked by a Royal Navy ship near Tortuga, Yeosang too, had taken your hand and told you not to worry. The difference this time though, was that you were no longer just a amnesiac girl who had to be protected by Jongho, but a person reasonably well versed with the cutlass and musket, who had experienced dangers and could help people around her with her healing ability.

You just hoped it would be enough.

“Yeosang-ah, can you tell anything about the ship?” Your captain calls from this wheel, his voice eerily calm as if they aren’t on the verge of a massive battle.  Yeosang leans forward a little, squinting as he tries to make out distinctive features of the ship.

“It looks like a standard Navy ship, about fifteen cannons down each side on the upper deck. A three masted frigate with no battering ram and it relies on sail power, not on rowers. But…” Yeosang’s voice trails off in shock and you glance at him in worry.

“But?”

You had thought that Yeosang was already pale from fear, but then all at once every drop of blood seems to drain from his face, leaving him white and bloodless. His fingers tighten on the railing of the ship, mouth falling open in horror and pupils dilating in fear as he stares at the approaching ship in shock.

Concern floods you. “Yeosang-oppa?”

“The flag they’re flying…” Yeosang breathes, barely above a whisper. “It’s a black crow.”

San stiffens.

“What?”

Hongjoong somehow manages to hear that over all the noise coming from the main deck, because he whirls around in shock to look at the ship coming from the stern, instructing Mingi to take the wheel. His boots click on the deck as he makes his way over to the three of you, his one green eye narrowing in fury as he stares at the approaching dark shape. His anger radiates him like some sort of black miasma that’s poisonous to the touch, the very air around him almost acrid with sour rage.

“How dare he…” You captain seethes, before turning to Yeosang. “Yeosang, are you alright?”

But the navigator only continues to stare at the ship in shock, unresponsive to his captain except a mumbled ‘yeah, I’m fine’ that no one believes.

You’re confused as to why this ship seems to have such a massive psychological impact on Yeosang, but then San tugs on your hand lightly, his usually bright eyes grim.

“That’s the ship Yeosang’s father captains.”

Memories rush back to you, from that night you had decided to heal Yeosang with your very life force. An officer with a single, golden monocle, thin lips pulled into a permanent scowl, a white scar above his brow bone, golden patches on his shoulders.

Commander Kang. Captain of the Royal Navy ship the Black Crow. Yeosang’s father.

The man who’d abandoned his only son to bloodthirsty pirates and had left him for dead.

“Oh shit.” You mumble under your breath, realising the gravity of this situation now, how it not only crosses the physical boundaries but also the emotional and psychological. You take Yeosang’s hand in both of yours and clasp it tightly, hoping to offer some comfort, but he doesn’t seem to register it, eyes still fixed on the ship.

Then something catches your eye that makes your heart stop in your chest.

“Are they… are they seriously hoisting a white flag? A parley flag?” You spit out in shock, and your captain stares at the Black Crow, utterly furious at the sight and yet completely bewildered by this abrupt change of events from what he’s used to. A Royal Navy ship offering to parley with the Caribbean Sea’s most wanted pirates? That was wholly unheard of in the whole of maritime history.

“Are they mocking us?” You hear San growl under his breath, obviously incensed, but you must have gone a little crazy from the mixture of shock and terror, because an unsteady little giggle leaves your mouth, your hands trembling from both suspense and trepidation.

Your master glances at you, obviously concerned. “Chin Hae? Chin Hae, are you alright?”

Another near deranged chuckle spills from you as you shake your head, mind as blank as the parley flag being hoisted from the foremast.

“Oh no…” You begin, unsure what to say, every thought fleeing from your mind as the dark shape almost looms over you in your imagination. “It’s just that…”

Another uncontrollable laugh escapes you.

“Yunho needs to eat Wooyoung’s shoe now.”

[isitbussinjanelle]

Raya and the princesses (This is a modern AU)

“Alright, follow me you two.”

A storm trooper leads Namaari, and Raya threw the business of ‘Oh My Disney!’. With Raya and Namaari being the newest Disney princesses, they now had to accompany the other prior princesses in their dressing room for online Disney events. For Raya, this experience was out of this world. With the song ‘Let it Go’ playing in the background while Star Wars ships zoom across the sky along with dumbo, she was overwhelmingly excited. She felt like a kid in a Candy store.

For Namaari however, this was something she struggled to find enjoying. Namaari loves peace and quiet when she has it and will often spend her time reading a book or reading a Fang legend to a bunch of Fang children when she doesn’t have sparring sessions or piles and piles of Fang documents and contracts to sign. Namaari followed alongside the storm trooper while keeping her hands very close to her sides to avoid touching one of the happy square-headed people roaming around. Namaari also happened to be claustrophobic, so this wasn’t helping whatsoever. But when Namaari took one glance at Raya beaming with enjoyment and her eyes glowing, she decided that maybe enjoying her time there wouldn’t be terrible.

“OMG NAMI!!” Raya yelped. Nami was one of Raya’s many nicknames for the fang princess.

“What? What is it?” Namaari said frantically.

“It’s THE buzz light year! THE BUZZ LIGHT YEAR NAMI! Can we please go say hi? I wanna give him my best impression of himself,” Raya said with pleading eyes.

With Namaari being Namaari, she obviously couldn’t say no, because its Raya for Christ sake.

“Ofco-,”

“No. You both are already late for preparation for the ‘Which Disney princess are you’ quizlet. Let’s go.” Barked the storm trooper. Damn, who spit in your congee? Raya wondered.

Raya looked back at Namaari with a, can you believe this asshat, Kind of look. Pursed her lips and rose her shoulders in a, it is what it is, kind of look. Namaari and Raya were great at reading each other like this. They did it all the time when they had fights.

After a few more stops with Raya’s stalling, and more of the storm troopers eyerolling (which you couldn’t tell because of his helmet but it was obvious), they eventually made it too the ‘cast members only’ section. There they found Nick wild, Grumpy the dwarf, tinker bell, and hei hei.

“Ahh ha ha, so these must be the new princesses,” Nick walks towards the trio of the storm trooper and the Kumandran princesses. His words trail off as he looks at them both up and down.

“I gotta ask- no poofy dresses? Whats that all about?” Nick asks, direction his attention towards raya, then Namaari.

“Nah, dresses make it way harder to beat Nami at sparring,” Raya responds as she shifts her wight to her right leg and crosses her arms in a cool way.

“Please- like you’ve ever beaten be binturi,” Namaari blushes and mimics rayas arm cross. Nick gags at the mini flirting session.

“well, gotta hand it to ya princess- I think I like you more without the dress. I guess I owe Flash 10 bucks.” Nick says as he sticks a lollipop in his mouth and puts his shades on and walks away.

“Did a fox just try and flirt with me?” Raya laughed. Namaari was a little mad that anyone except her would talk to Raya flirtatiously, but brushed it off.

“You two are running short on time. You, go through that door, and you through that one.” The storm trooper points at two doors that are directly across the hall from each other. Namaari and Raya find this odd, especially because they’re both princesses- shouldn’t they be in the same room?

Namaari goes off through her door while Raya is ushered by the Storm trooper to go through hers.

“What an ass.” Raya mumbled to herself.

The Moment Raya looks up, she is bombarded with the smell of perfume, and sweet sounds of angelic singing. Raya looks around at the beautifully designed room. She stares over at the other women in the room, primping each other’s hair or mingling amongst themselves. She straightens her hat. She saw one princess playing jump rope with two others. But the jump rope was…hair? Raya was confused. Raya begins to “walk” over too where the other princesses are but struggles to actually move her legs because she’s not great with people. Especially because she hasn’t had much interaction with them for 6 years. She starts rehearsing in her head good things to say to someone, like compliments, and asking, “How’s the weather today?”. Small talk. Raya hated the concept.

She eventually builds up the courage to stop standing in her own embarrassment and walk over to the princess area but fails as she lands back first on the floor. She slipped in something.

The princesses immediately notice this because Raya was quite dramatic about her fall when she did. She groaned in agony as a beautiful princess rushed towards her.

“Oh! Are you okay? I am truly sorry. Raja must have peed on the floor again. Bad kitty!” The princess scolds her giant cat- tiger that lays on the long blue couch. He cocks his head in confusion when he heard his name. He ignores her and licks his left paw.

“OMG. Are you the new princess? Guys! She’s the new princess!” Another princess rushes over. This girl has wet curly hair with a black and white pig by her side. All of the other princesses file in over Raya. They all begin to clap whilst a princess begins to sing angelically in celebration.

“FINALLY! I’ve been waiting for another badass warrior chick to show up. Sick sword girl! Where’d you get it” A girl with short straight black hair grabs raya by the arm and walks with her around the room.

“oh- thanks! It belongs to my Ba.” Raya says as the puts one arm behind her head in nervousness.

“Whats a Ba-“ A princess with long read hair and rosy cheeks asks with a head cock. She’s cut off by the next princess.

“Holy crap! How are you’re arms so muscly??” One of the princesses asks as she squishes raya’s biceps, which makes her highly uncomfortable. Raya begins to back away from the large crowd of girls- which was a mistake.

“Um- yeah I guess so…you should see My girlfr-“ Raya is cut off when she trips over something on the ground and lands on something warm and fury- Raja.

Raja growls and purrs at raya, but then begins to lick her because he senses her fear. Raya leaps up.

“Gah! Don’t hurt me orange serlot!” Raya exclaims as the goes into the sideways feat position on the ground.

“Raja, play nice!” Jasmine says. Raya couldn’t tell it was here as she was rolled up for the sake of her life.

“What’s a serlo-“The same princess from earlier who asked what a Ba was asked. Shes interrupted once more once an unexpected guest makes an appearance.

“Ride Like the wind ya big fur-bug!” A girl with curly red hair flys’ around the room on- Tuk Tuk? He was here! Meredith nocks over a bunch of chairs and startles Raja.

“Fur-bug? TUK TUK!” Raya gets up in relief to finally see a familiar face- a face with a big wet nose. Tuk Tuk stops rolling and galops over to Raya, much to Meredith’s disappointment. All of the other princesses share an “aww” as Raya nuzzles Tuk Tuk with her nose.

“Boo! I was having fun ey? He sure is quite a ride tho. Ought to give the lad that.” Meredith said as she shoulders bumped Aurora. Aurora clears her throat and steps away from Meredith slightly.

“Glad to see you bud!” Raya said. All of the other princesses gather around Raya and tuktuk, who are still near the door. She never got to get fully settled in after being bombarded with questions and perfume.

“Now lady’s, I think it’s about time we all gave the new gal a proper introduction.” Tiana says with her hands on her hips, gesturing her statement towards Mulan and Cinderella, who were the main ones who asked Raya questions. They both giggle in agreement.

All of the princesses introduce themselves and show raya their power if they have one, or just tell her about their past and how they became royalty. Raya listens to each of them in awe but gets distracted during a few of the short speeches only to be wondering how Namaari was doing in the other room. She hoped Namaari was okay. They last few minutes mostly consisted of years and uh-huhs from Raya’s side as she listened to all of the princesses’ backstories. After a while, the very last princess told Raya about her backstory.

“And that’s how I saved the world with my good friend Maui, shape shifter, demigod of the wind and- “Moana goes on but gets cut off.

“Okay but for real, for once just say Maui and drop the formalities.” Anna groaned with impatience as she twirled her red strands of hair.

“Hey, I gotta give my man his credit. Put some respect on his name, you know?” Moana says all hyped up. Mulan screams “PERIOD” from across the room as she sharpens her sword. Pocahontas rolls her eyes at the childish ness.

“Period is so old now Mulan- no one says it anymore,” Pocahontas says.

“You right you right… SHEEEEEEESH” Mulan says as she connects two fingers to the crease of her forearm. She bits her lips and widens her leg stance. Moana dies of laughter at this.

“Maui does that all the time and its so fricking annoying,” Moana says. Raya laughs at all of this; she felt like she almost found her place. Raya loved making others laugh and enjoyed doing it in the form of 10-year-old boy humor. She was glad that these girls matched her energy.

“Guy’s, were kinda getting off track- New girl. How did you become a Disney princess? Who’s your prince? Or were you already born into nobility?” Tiana asks as she brushed Rapunzel’s long gold strands.

Raya pursed her lips. She hated speaking in front of large crowds. She was never the best at presenting school projects in her child days and doesn’t enjoy it now either. One of the many reasons why she is in no hurry to become Chief of Heart. Raya suddenly notices all eyes on her. Oh shit, they actually want me to speak? Fuck no-

“Um…” Raya starts. “Well, I guess I was born into nobility. My father is chief of my homeland Heart, a land in Kumandra,” she said nervously as she looked down and played with dead skin on her finger.

“And as for a prince- I don’t have one? I have a girlfriend named Namaari whos’ a princess of Fang, another land in Kumandra…” Raya noticed all of the princesses staring at her in awe and interest. Even belle put down her book once the Heart land princess mention a female love interest.

“Yeah…We kind of went from enemies to lovers. She sorts of stabbed me in the back when we were kids and caused our world to face 6 years of apocalypse,” Raya Gained some confidence s=once she realized her audience was enjoying her story. “But eventually I had to realize that maybe putting my faith in Namaari was the only thing that could save us. Kumandra. When the druun, which was the cause of the apocalypse, was closing in on me, Namaari, a baby named Noi, A buff winter soldier named Tong, and one hell of a cook named Boun, I decided that the only way to get us out of there was to use the one thing sisu wanted us to do; trust each other. I put my faith in Namaari, and she came through. And she has ever since.”

Raya finished. She looked around to see the other princesses gathers around her on their stomachs with their chins on their hands like little preschoolers.

“Woah.” They all said.

“Damn girl! That’s some powerful shit!” Mulan said as the rapped an arm around Raya’s shoulder in approval. Mulan was slightly taller that Raya, about Namaari’s height. Raya smiled sweetly as the other princesses Hollard in agreement.

“So how did you find all of these people? Noi, Tong, all of them?” Jasmine asked. She was sitting on her magic carpet with Raja purring by her side.

“Oh! I kinda scooped them up with me along the way. You see, I had to travel to each of the four kingdoms, Fang, Talon, Spine, and Tail to get these gem pieces that would save the world. I found Boun in Tail- He was my getaway driver-“

“From whom? Were the druun chasing you?” Elsa asked eagerly.

“Namaari. Namaari was chasing after me because…Actually, I had no idea why. Before she was chasing me, I had just gotten a Gem piece from Tail. Namaari showed up out of no where all of a sudden and mention something about the dragon scroll that I stole from Fang, which was useless to her which makes me wonder why she needed it; She was also holding my hair pin which is also kinda odd- “

“I KNOW WHY! SHE LOVED YOU RAYA WERE YOU BLIND? WHY ELSE WOULD SHE KEEP YOUR HAIR PIN THINGY?” Belle jumped up in excitement. She felt like this was some kind of good book.’

“Nah, it wasn’t love. I think Namaari wanted to get RIPPED TONIGHT-“Mulan shouted as the fake flexed her arms.

“RIP THAT PUSSY AYYEE!” Moana moved her arms and hips to copy the Tiktok trend. Aurora pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned at the immaturity. Raya was Hot red and covered her face to hide it- did Namaari actually like her at the time? I guess it would make sense, seeing as how Namaari always called her Dep la, which meant strangely beautiful.

“Ladies! Let her finish!” Tiana snapped. Raya could tell that Tiana was the mom of the group.

“Anywas, after I found Boun in Tail, I picked up baby noi in Talon, where she conned me- she faked cried so she could steal my gem piece,” Raya shook her head in laughter at the memory.

“That baby new what was up.” Pocahontas chimed in.

“I eventually caught her and her gang of Ongis and helped her earn some honest loot by helping me get the gem piece from the chief of Talon.” Raya concluded.

“We took Noi with us and went to spine, where tong captured me and sisu, and the gem pieces. Tuk tuk, Boun, Noi and the Ongis thankfully came to our rescue, but that was exactly when Namaari showed up in spine.” Raya said.

“Yes! More Namaari moments! Did you guys kiss?” Moana asked eagerly.

“Oh, they totally did more than that moana.” Mulan said with her eyebrows quirked and her arms crossed.

“Shut up! We didn’t do anything! She actually beat my ass.” Raya should choose better wording.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” All of the princesses squealed, except for Meredith, who was busy trying to stop tuk tuk from eating cold beignets Tiana had made so they could go on another joyride.

“NO WAY. NO WAY. YALL DID? SHE DID? PERIOD NAMAARI AHHHH YESSSS!!” Mulan was jumping on the couch in happiness. Raya was blushing so hard that she had steam coming out of her ears.

“Uh, g-guys? If “Beat my ass” means what I think it means, then I think Eric might have beaten mine last night…” Ariel said with a blush. Mulan, moana and Pocahontas had their jaws wide open. Cinderella had her hand over her mouth to try and hold back her laugh.

“ARIEL! YOU NAUGHTY GIRL! I DIDN’T KNOW ERIC HAD IT LIKE THAT! WAS IT GOOD THOUGH?” Moana asked loudly, hoping eric would hear from across the hall. Ariel nodded. Ariel was known at the innocent one of the groups, so this was a huge shock to everyone.

“Same Ariel! Naveen gave it to me good last night if you know what I’m saying…” Tiana said as she poked her lips out. Moana and Mulan couldn’t help but squeal. Raya was on the ground dying laughing with Pocahontas at what Tiana said.

For the next few minutes, the girls all went on rants about their sex life, except for the ones with know love interest. They laughed a whole lot that day. Raya felt lightheaded the entire time she was there due to laughing.

Eventually, the girls decided to settle down and all watch the Lion king. Mulan made the popcorn, while Belle gathered the drinks. Raya had never seen the lion king before because this was her first time actually watching a movie with friends. The movie was great, but the loud commentary about the movie made by mostly moana and Mulan was even better, and the other princess agreed to this with laughter. During the Hakuna Matata scene, Mulan played Timone, and Moana was Pumba, while Raya tried her best to copy Simba’s lines for the mini skit.

“WHEN HE WAS A YOUNG WART HOG,” Mulan sang badly.

“WHEN I WAS A YOUNG WART HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGGGG!” Moana sang worse, which made the other princesses laugh.

The other princess enjoyed this. Raya didn’t that much, because she had to eat jello and pretend it was the bug Simba ate in the movie.

“WHAT IS THIS TEXTURE?” Raya shouted with a mouth full of goo. Jasmine died laughing from Raya’s response, along with Aurora.

“EAT IT YOU PUSSY!” Mulan shouted, breaking character.

All of the girls got emotional during the, can you Feel the Love tonight song. The all sang in harmony, except for raya because she didn’t know the song. Raya did however cry during the scene where Simba and Scar fought on pride rock and Simba almost died multiple times.

“NO NOT SIMBA!” Raya shouted at the screen.

“Don’t worry, he lives.” Meredith shouted from across the room, still trying to get tuk tuk up.

Raya Couldn’t help but enjoy the time she had they’re with the princesses. She felt at home. Obviously not like Kumandra, for that will always be her home, but she felt like she found her people. Namaari usually tool Raya’s jokes to seriously, or just pinched her the bridge of her nose and chuckle when Raya mad 10-yearold boy humor. Raya was just finally glad to find some girls who were wild like her.

After the movie ended, the girls clapped and cheered.

“Hey, didn’t when have a Disney princess quizlet to attend?” Elsa asked. Everyone else shrugged and ignored it. They actually didn’t have anything to attend, because as we know, ralph broke the internet, so nobody was able to go online and take the quiz.

“Quick question for you Raya- Is Boun Single, I mean, a man that can cook; that’s what I need” Moana said as she pointed to nothing.

“Preach.” Mulan commented.

“MOANA BOUN IS 10- DID I KNOW MENTION THAT?!” Raya said. All of the other girls busted out laughing.

“…I mean…A six year age difference is that-“

“MOANA OF MOTONUI!” Tiana shouted as she threw a pillow at moana. The other girls couldn’t help but laugh. Raya was going to have a fun time with these girls.

Credit: @gioistrying

[carewyncromwell]

Zut alors! This art sure makes this Cinderella AU look like...well, a Cinderella AU, doesn’t it??

One critique I have about many Cinderella adaptations is about how the “ugly stepsisters” are either portrayed as one-dimensionally bad so as to make our Cinderella look more saintly by comparison or given just enough dimension that one could see them as secondary victims of their mother’s abuse and yet aren’t given an ending that frees them from it the way Cinderella does. And yes, obviously in many of those cases, the stepsisters jump in on abusing Cinderella too, but it’s a learned behavior the stepsisters acquire from their mother and, in some cases, one could also point to there possibly being an element of the child joining in on their parents’ abuse of their sibling, etc. as a method of self-preservation. There are a few adaptations where one stepsister “reforms” themselves while the other doesn’t, but in this story, I wanted to show that -- as unpleasant as the entire Cromwell clan is, including Carewyn’s cousins -- there’s some logic to how they behave. And in Claire Cromwell’s daughters’ cases in particular, they’re just as trapped by the expectations of their gender as Carewyn is, arguably more so because they’ve lived with Charles their whole lives and the importance of marrying well has been drilled into them much more than it ever was for Carewyn. Although it’s obvious how much worse Carewyn’s situation is compared to her cousins, I kind of liked the idea of showing how a character in the “ugly stepsister” role would feel, being constantly outdone by her relative despite her best efforts. And even in Carewyn’s canon, she does project a “perfect paragon” affect that irritates characters like Merula to no end, so this isn’t too much of a stretch. Doesn’t mean Iris is a good person or anything, but what can I say, I like giving my antagonists understandable motivations. 

In Carewyn’s canon, she becomes a robin Animagus. Part of it has to do with their size and coloring; part of it has to do with their symbolism (being associated with spring and, in the Christian tradition, selfless kindness, as they either earned their “red breast” when they sang comfortingly in Jesus’s ear while he bled on the cross or when they got burned fetching water for souls stuck in Purgatory); and part of it is because “Robin” was my deceased paternal aunt’s name, as well as my middle name! 🧡

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

On Charles’s instructions, Carewyn was returned to the tower room at the back of the Cromwell estate, this time with thick ropes tied her wrists together and lashing them to the legs of the cot set up in the corner. As Blaise finished securing Carewyn to the bed, he went out of his way to scold her that all of this was her own doing for trying to abandon her family before departing. 

Carewyn tried everything she could to get free, but within an hour, she determined that there was nothing sharp enough in the room that she could use to cut her bonds, even if she could move more than two feet in either direction. And so, in utter frustration, she collapsed to the floor, her eyebrows knitting tightly over her closed eyes. 

Talbott, she thought, please warn Orion...please, make sure he’s safe...

She wished she could simply have faith in Talbott, but being unable to do anything to protect Orion made Carewyn feel number and more afraid than she’d ever felt near the battlefield between Florence and Royaume. 

A moment later, Carewyn was startled by the sound of the door being unlocked. When it opened, she found Iris standing in the doorframe. Claire’s middle daughter was decked out in a striking dark blue and emerald satin gown and a dark blue feathered mask, and her dark hair was put up in a beautiful braided bun trimmed with peacock feathers.

“So you are locked up here,” said Iris. 

Carewyn raised her eyebrows very dully. “So I am.”

Iris’s face, for once, didn’t look particularly haughty. Her blue eyes, the same color and shape as Carewyn’s, swiveled over her cousin’s frame, taking in not just her bound ankles but the sewn-up back of her green dress. The dark-haired Cromwell looked almost disconcerted.

“This is your own doing, you know,” Iris said in a slightly higher voice than normal. “If you’d just left Prince Henri to me...done what Grandfather told you to do...”

“Blaise has more than given me that lecture already, thank you,” Carewyn said coldly.

Iris’s expression turned very offended. 

“So much for you not talking out of turn!” she said scathingly. “I would’ve thought you’d have learned your lesson, after what Grandfather did to you...”

Her eyes flickered over to Carewyn’s back again. Carewyn could see the discomfort and macabre fascination swimming in her eyes -- as if part of her wanted to see how bad the scars were, and yet the thought made her feel nauseous. 

Perhaps it was the compassion Carewyn felt, seeing her cousin struggle with feeling any kind of pity for her circumstances after how long they’d always hated each other...but she couldn’t help but address her a bit more gently than usual. 

“Just because Grandfather says something doesn’t mean it’s right.”

Iris scowled. “Just like you, to be ungrateful, after everything our family’s done for you...”

She turned her back on Carewyn as if to leave.

“I’m not just talking about myself,” Carewyn murmured. “I’m talking about you.”

Iris stiffened, stopping in the doorframe. 

“I heard Grandfather yell at you, when you first came home,” said Carewyn. 

“So what, you want to rub it in my face?” Iris huffed, sounding rather like a snake bearing its fangs after being stepped on. “Boast about how you always twist everybody around your little finger, without even trying?”

Carewyn couldn’t help but cock her eyebrows. “Boast? Iris, the only thing that’s twisted around here are the ropes that have been tied around my wrists -- and they hurt quite a bit.”

“You know what I mean!” said Iris impatiently. She crossed her arms, her shoulders sulking. “Stop being so...so bloody witty, will you!? You’ve always been so witty -- able to talk about absolutely nothing with complete strangers...even people you don’t want to impress! And then, all of a sudden, all those people can do is talk about you. Like Prince Henri...every time we talked, the conversation would always end up coming back to you and the dresses and shoes he wanted to make for you!”

Carewyn’s face became a bit more solemn. 

“The Prince and I are friends,” she admitted. “It was never anything more than that.”

Iris sniffed. “And I suppose it was ‘never anything more than that’ with Duke Lestrange either?”

“I didn’t even know Duke Lestrange,” Carewyn said exasperatedly. “And I had no interest in him romantically either. I think I made that quite clear both before and after you ripped my dress so badly that it exposed my undergarments.”

“And yet even then, you still charmed him!” said Iris, whirling around to glare at Carewyn. “You didn’t want anything from him, so why did you talk to him? Why did you smile and act all nice with him?”

“Because it was the polite thing to do!” said Carewyn, flabbergasted. “Because he was a guest! And one doesn’t have to get something in return to have a reason to show someone respect! It’s not something to be treated as a transaction!”

Iris’s face appeared more surly than ever as she looked away, adjusting the skirt of her gown. 

Carewyn looked down at her bindings and then back up at Iris’s back. She exhaled slowly through her nose, as an idea started to prickle at the sides of her brain. 

“...Iris...I’m sorry if I’ve wronged you,” she said softly. “I never had any intention to sabotage you...I know how much a proper marriage would endear you to our family.”

She took a deep breath. 

“If you want me out of the way...then I’ll go.”

Iris looked at Carewyn, startled. Carewyn stared her intently in the face.

“Just undo my bindings,” she said, “and leave the door unlocked...and when you and the others return from the ball, I’ll be gone. You’ll never have to live with me again.”

Iris stared disbelievingly. Carewyn’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, betraying some desperation. 

“Grandfather won’t have to know it was you,” she said. “No one would know except for me and you, and I won’t be here to tell anyone. Please...just let me escape.”

Let me get out to warn Orion. Let me save Orion. 

Iris stared at Carewyn for another long moment. Then, very slowly, her eyes narrowed. 

“You...you really want this,” she said lowly. “Don’t you?”

Carewyn gave her a very serious look. Iris’s eyes narrowed that bit more, darting from her face to down at her bindings and back. 

“...Well, then...”

She bent down, took hold of Carewyn’s bindings...and tightened them sharply.

“Ack -- !” 

Carewyn couldn’t quite choke back a yelp of pain. Iris shot back up to her feet, her eyes burning with resentment. 

“You probably want to live your own life just as much as the rest of us do,” she said. “Only you keep stopping me from starting my own life, by charming every man I could persuade to marry me. So I guess it’s only fair I make sure you can’t escape either.”

She strode for the door, snatching it up and glaring at Carewyn one more time. 

“At least tonight I won’t have to worry about you catching anyone else’s eye. You’ll be locked up here, far away from the ball, and unable to charm anyone.”

And with this, she slammed the door behind her and locked it with a loud CLACK. 

And so all Carewyn could do was sit helplessly on the floor, bound tightly to the bed, as the sound of her family’s carriages clattered off of the estate and toward the palace of Florence. Carewyn couldn’t even look out the window to watch them go. 

She tried several more times over the next hour to try to break free of her restraints, but as the sun grew lower and lower in the sky outside the window, she once again found herself falling still. All she could do was hope and pray and think of Orion...pleading with every entity of fate and justice that he was still alive. Soon enough she found herself falling off into a restless sleep in her uncomfortable position on the floor. 

This is why, when she heard a bizarre CRASH from downstairs, Carewyn was slow to react, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. It took her a moment to even gather her thoughts enough to try to escape her bonds again, so as to try to figure out what was going on. Once she did, however, she caught the sound of a voice calling out. 

“Miss Cromwell! Miss Cromwell, are you there?”

Carewyn’s heart leapt in a combination of disbelief and delight.

“Baroness!” she cried.

She tried to get up and run for the door, only for the rope around her wrists to hold her back. 

“Ack -- Baroness, I’m here!”

There was a sound like two sets of footsteps quickly climbing the stairs. Then, after a moment, she heard Talbott’s voice. 

“Carewyn, stand back! We’re going to get you out of there -- let me just adjust this -- ”

Carewyn was glad she was tied up away from the door when a few minutes later, it was thrown off its hinges with another CRASH. 

Talbott and Baroness McGonagall came running through the dust into the room. At the sight of Carewyn on the floor, Talbott immediately ran over to try to undo her bindings. 

“They’re -- they’re too tight!” he hissed in aggravation. 

“Leave it to me,” said McGonagall sharply. “Focus on the spell keeping that door off its hinges: once your concentration breaks, it’ll return to the way it was.”

She materialized a knife from the pocket in her gown and, with a strong SNAP, cut the thick cord attaching her to the bed, which helped her pull the rest of the bindings off of Carewyn’s wrists. 

Once her hands were free, Carewyn threw her arms around both her and Talbott’s shoulders, hugging them both in gratitude and relief. Within a second, though, she’d pulled away to look at them both urgently. 

“Baroness, we need to move fast...my grandfather -- ”

“Yes, Talbott told me,” said the Baroness curtly. “Quickly now -- ”

She swept back down the stairs, Talbott and Carewyn at her heels. Once they crossed the threshold, the door magically floated back up behind them, slamming back into place with just as much force as it had been blasted off. 

“The palace of Florence is at least three hours from here,” explained Talbott as they ran down the stairs. “I knew I couldn’t stay transformed that long, and I’ve never flown so far before -- didn’t reckon it’d be smart to try to fly somewhere I’ve never been and risk falling right out of the sky on the way, so I decided to go get the Baroness instead. Fortunately, on our way back here on foot, we collided with Badeea, and she was able to ride on ahead to the palace and tell the Weasleys the change in plans -- ”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “‘Change in plans?’”

Talbott smirked broadly, showing teeth. “Yeah -- the plan to bust you out of here.”

Carewyn gave a start. 

“It was KC and Bill Weasley’s idea,” Talbott explained. “After I delivered Cosimo’s message to you and took a break to recuperate from flying, I turned back into an eagle and headed to the palace. Figured Prince Henri would want to know the state you were in and might be able to do something to help. Unfortunately he couldn’t -- Charles Cromwell’s wealthy enough that he’s ingratiated himself to the King and Queen, and as your legal guardian, there isn’t much anyone else could do, unless you decided to run away. But Bill and Charlie didn’t like the thought of you being stuck there. Bill had already told Charlie to hold onto this coach he was fixing for the royal family, so they could use it to smuggle you out of the Cromwell estate and take you to their family’s house. And KC realized that the perfect night to do that would be the night of the ball, when the entire Cromwell family is supposed to be in Florence and you’d therefore be left completely unguarded. So Bill, Charlie, Badeea, and I decided to stay behind while everyone else at the palace headed out to Orion’s ball, so that we could come get you.”

Carewyn could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her eyes had gone very wide. 

“You...you mean you all put this together, just to help me?” she said shakily. 

Talbott’s face was very serious as they reached the ground floor. “Of course we did. You’re a good person, Carewyn -- you don’t deserve being trapped here.”

Carewyn’s eyes welled up with emotion despite her best efforts. 

“Talbott...” Her lips spread into a weak, overwhelmed smile. “I...thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Talbott said brusquely. “We’ve still got to get you to Florence.”

In the distance, Carewyn could hear the sound of a coach pulling up in front of the estate. McGonagall with her long legs reached the door of the manor first, and she unlocked and opened it, sweeping out into the courtyard. When Carewyn and Talbott darted after her, Carewyn gaped.

The broken royal coach she’d gone to help Charlie bring to the Burrow was as good as new, as clean, shining, and upright as it likely was when the King and Queen first purchased it. And sitting up in the driver’s seat was -- 

“CAREY!”

Charlie, dressed in a white-feathered black hat and a dark red velvet doublet trimmed with silver scales, dropped the reins connected to his and Bill’s chestnut horses and Badeea’s gray horse and leapt right off the coach and over to Carewyn. Jumping off the boot of the coach was Bill, dressed in a brown suede coat decorated with silver trim, and climbing out of the coach itself was Badeea, dressed in silver-dusted white satin. 

“Charlie!” cried Carewyn. “Bill! Badeea!” 

The Weasley brothers launched themselves at her, throwing their arms around her and squeezing tight. Unfortunately the wounds on Carewyn’s back made her crumple slightly, flinching away from their touch with a barely suppressed hiss of pain. 

“Carey?” said Bill, instantly concerned. 

“I’m all right!” Carewyn said very quickly. “I’m all right...”

Her blue eyes flooding with emotion, she threw her arms around both Charlie and Bill in return, squeezing them back. 

“It’s so good to see you,” she whispered. 

Bill’s eyes were very emotional too as he cradled the back of her head with his hand. The joy Carewyn felt just at the memory of her friends days earlier was back in full. She thought it’d be a long time before she’d ever see them again...and yet they were here. They’d come for her when she’d needed them most...

Badeea came up beside Carewyn, her dark eyes very concerned as she trailed a hand lightly along the stitching at the back of Carewyn’s dress. 

“Carewyn...your dress...”

The ginger-haired woman gave her a reassuring look. “It’s all right.”

She looked around at all of them, taking in their fine clothes. 

“Then...we’re all going to the ball ourselves?” she asked uneasily. “That’s the new plan?”

“Yep!” said Charlie brightly. “Andre had been working on some costumes for us, so we could all attend his mother’s New Years masquerade, before the whole thing at the border went down. He wasn’t able to finish any of them...but I borrowed a spare doublet from Andre’s closet for Talbott and Badeea was able to finish decorating the costumes that were closest to being done...”

He pointed out the “scales” on his doublet, while Bill held up the sleeve of his brown suede coat to show off the sparkly silver painted trim. 

Carewyn’s eyes widened. “That paint...is that -- ?”

“The paint Orion gave me? Yes,” Badeea said, beaming as she showed off the shiny “fur” detailing she’d applied to her own hijab. “It’s the first time I’ve ever purposefully applied my paints to fabric, but for a first try, I’d say it turned out pretty well. Your shoes and dress look even better, though...look!”

She moved over to the open door of the coach and pulled out a gray and orange gown and a pair of shoes. 

The chest was decked out with reddish-orange feathers arranged in a rounded heart shape, while the rest (made out of gray satin) was painted to look like it was covered in feathers. And the shoes...they were truly the most beautiful dancing slippers Carewyn had ever seen. The heels were made of colorful pumpkin diamond, while the shoes themselves, made of cloth, were nonetheless painted in a way that it looked like yellow, red, and orange stained glass. There was even a sheen on each panel, no doubt made with the slightest brush of the silver paint Orion had given Badeea, that made it look like it was sparkling. 

Carewyn brought up a hand to tentatively hold the skirt of the gown, staring in disbelief and awe. Badeea’s dark eyes were sparkling with pride.

“It’s a robin, see?” she said. “Andre thought it’d be the perfect way to apply your supposed ‘favorite color’ -- ash gray -- to your dress. He originally wanted to trim your shoes with more diamond, but after seeing everything on the battlefield, he was reluctant to spend any more money on materials. So I tried to make it look like it was made of diamond anyway...it didn’t quite work out the way I hoped, but I don’t think it turned out too bad.”

“Badeea...it’s beautiful,” breathed Carewyn, her eyes trailing over the “stained glass” slippers. 

Despite this, though, she whirled on the others with a severe expression. 

“...But I can’t go to the ball! My entire family will be there, as will Lord Malfoy and Patricia Rakepick -- none of them would let me get within twenty feet of Orion -- ”

“They will if they do not recognize you,” said McGonagall crisply. She turned to Badeea and extended a hand. “The mask, please.”

Badeea handed McGonagall a hand-painted robin mask to her. McGonagall then set about tracing a yellowish-gold spell in mid-air, which she then lightly tapped with the mask. In an instant, it sparkled with traces of golden light. 

McGonagall then placed the mask in both of Carewyn’s hands. 

“This mask has an illusionary enchantment placed on it,” she said solemnly, “one that will activate solely for you, while you are within the gates of Florence’s palace, for today only. While you wear it, you will appear, to the person seeing you, as a beautiful stranger. You will not look the same to any two people...meaning that, were anyone to try to identify you later, no one would be able to agree how tall you are, how slender, how old...not even any physical features like hair or eye color.”

McGonagall’s expression then turned very grave. 

“Just be sure that you leave the palace before the final stroke of midnight. Once the next day begins, my spell will break no matter what I might do...and if you’re still in the palace when that happens, then I daresay there’ll be plenty of people there who will recognize you.”

Carewyn nodded. Considering how willing Charles was to commit treason and murder, the last thing she wanted was for her grandfather to know she’d made it to the ball and who had helped her get there. 

“I understand,” she said.

“I will not fit in the coach with you,” said McGongall as she glanced at Talbott, “but I can maintain the illusion for the rest of the night, even from a distance. And I know my apprentice will do everything he can to make sure you get back to Royaume safely, once Orion is out of danger.”

Carewyn’s eyes became a little smaller and softer. “Thank you, Baroness...for everything.”

McGonagall’s usually stern face softened noticeably as she brought a hand to gently rest on Carewyn’s cheek.

“Godspeed, Miss Cromwell.”

And so Carewyn, Badeea, and Talbott all climbed into the coach. Once they were all inside, Bill -- playing the role of footman, snapped the door shut behind them and leapt up onto the boot of the coach. 

“Let’s go, Charlie!”

With a nod, Charlie bounded back up into the driver’s seat, snatched up the reins, and flicked them sharply with a “YAH!” The three horses charged off, pulling the coach right off the Cromwell estate and toward the reddening horizon. 

On their way to Florence’s palace, the group got themselves dressed. Carewyn politely averted her eyes as Talbott changed into the handsome purple velvet doublet Andre had been wearing when Carewyn first arrived at the palace, and then Talbott climbed out onto the boot of the carriage with Bill while Badeea helped Carewyn get dressed. 

When Carewyn took off her dress, Badeea saw her injured back for the first time. The artist’s gasp of dismay was silent, but she nonetheless trailed a cool, gentle hand along Carewyn’s bare back.

“I don’t think your gown will hide these,” Badeea murmured. “It’s cut low, to show off your back.”

Carewyn set her jaw grimly. “Then we’ll just have to leave them. Once I reach the palace and the Baroness’s illusion is activated, no one should be able to see them anyway.”

Badeea nodded grimly, her dark eyes very sad as she helped Carewyn pull the gown over her head.

“We all worried Lord Cromwell wasn’t treating you well,” she confessed, “but...I don’t think any of us thought he’d do something like this to you.”

Her usually serene expression betrayed a flicker of resentment. 

“He’s a horrible man,” she said very softly. “Just...horrible.”

Carewyn offered Badeea a weak smile, bringing a hand onto her shoulder and squeezing to show some reassurance. 

Charlie had never been to the palace of Florence before, but he was fortunately able to follow the many, many sets of long tracks left by other carriages and carts from Royaume that had already left for Florence’s capitol. He set the horses off at the fastest gallop he could manage without endangering his passengers, and within three hours, Charlie caught sight of some more carriages in the distance. He rushed to catch up with them, pulling up just behind them as they headed through the open gates of the Florentine palace.

The palace of Florence couldn’t have been more different than Royaume’s. While Royaume’s castle was white stone with extensive hedge gardens and many rounded towers trimmed with pointed dark rooves, Florence’s was made of tan-colored clay bricks stacked a mile high with geometric railings along the edges of towers and beautifully carved marble columns and arches framing the interior courtyard. It was also lit up with dozens of torches, making it blaze with golden light in the night. The warmer color palette, in contrast to Royaume’s palace’s pure white marble and clean lines, made Florence’s palace look significantly older, even though it was just as well-maintained. Carewyn couldn’t help but wonder what sorts of interesting histories she might read, if she could take the time to look over the yards of text etched into each column and wall. 

“I think I see Andre’s coach!” said Charlie.

He pointed out a coach parked almost directly in front of the grand staircase. Its coachman was tending to their horses.

“He must not have arrived too long ago,” said Bill. He looked at the others through the window of the coach. “Do you have the masks ready, Badeea?”

Badeea lightly waved the last mask she’d been painting back and forth to help it dry. “Just about...”

Carewyn could also see the white coaches belonging to the Cromwell family parked on the far right end. She could even see her horse among the white steeds pulling them -- it kept pulling at its reins tensely, as if not liking being lashed together with its fellows to the coach. 

Charlie pulled up in front of the castle, as far back and as far left as he could, so that they could stay close to the gate in case they needed a quick exit. As soon as they came to a stop, Bill pulled open the door of the coach. 

“Are you ready, Carey? Your hair and dress okay? Got your mask?”

“Yes,” said Carewyn. 

“Go on, then -- we’ll be right behind you.”

Carewyn nodded determinedly and quickly climbed out of the coach, holding her skirts up so as to keep them clear of her “stained glass” slippers. 

Charlie couldn’t help but gape. “Whoa, Carey...the Baroness wasn’t kidding! You don’t look like yourself at all!”

Carewyn blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah! You’ve got, like, blond hair and green eyes -- like some emerald dragon!”

“You look like a brunette to me,” said Bill sheepishly. 

“We can gush about the Baroness’s talent for illusions later,” Talbott cut them off brusquely. “Carewyn -- go find the King.”

Carewyn nodded. Turning her gaze toward the palace, she ran straight for the stairs, charging right past the guests that walked more leisurely up the stairs and ignoring how their heads turned in her direction. 

Orion...please don’t let me be too late...!

[one-boring-person]

I loved writing this idea, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Thanks for requesting @jawline-of-steel !💛💛

You Wanted To Talk To Me?

Edgar Frog x reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

A/N: this is heavily referenced to my other series, Only Traitors Consort With The Damned, which you can find on the masterlist.

Masterlist

"Man, just talk to her." Alan rolls his eyes as they stumble through the training course together, wet mud slicking their trousers and shirt fronts, hair and clothes soaked through from the pelting rain, bodies trembling from how hard they've been working.

"Talk to who?" Edgar responds, playing dumb as they throw themselves at a climbing wall, chests smashing painfully into the solid surface.

Neither if them speak for a minute as they haul themselves upwards, cresting the wall with some difficulty as their leaden arms struggle to hold their weight, their muscles screaming in protest, though they both manage it. From the top, the rest of the course is visible, a few other cadets just ahead of them, each of the pairs released from the starting point in "waves" so that they can be timed. Both of the boys sigh out audibly as they take in the view, not taking too much time as they swiftly climb to their feet and leap from the top, reaching for the heavy ropes hanging from a structure across from them, the rough material grazing their hands painfully as they slip down it a little. Ignoring the discomfort, they swing their legs in time with the momentum of the rope and kick off it, landing on a far platform, rolling as they land, ending up face first in yet more dirt, signifying the beginning of a net crawl.

"You know who I mean, Edgar. (Y/n)! You should talk to her." Alan manages to explain, voice strained from the exertion required to pull his body through thick mud.

"Why should I talk to her?" Edgar grits out, hands scrabbling frantically in the filth as he struggles to pull himself through this particular obstacle, glad to see the end if it not far out of sight.

"Because it's very obvious that you like her."

"I don't like her." The response is almost automatic, a reflex designed to protect his real feelings about their fellow trainee.

In truth, Edgar had had a crush on the girl for a good few months, having been interested in her as soon as he first laid eyes on her, nearly six months ago, when he and his brother signed up for the SRS. Neither of them had ever really thought about taking their vampire hunting that seriously, but this all changed when the dark-clad Soldiers converged on Santa Carla, their hometown, a couple of years ago, hunting down one of their own, who was seen as a traitor. The hooded men had come into the comic shop searching for some help, only to be confused by the Frog's zealous attitude and rough introduction to the supernatural side of the town, swiftly recognising potential in them. When their Hunt was over, the result of which they never found out, the men returned to the shop, offering to enlist them in the training program as soon as they turned the correct age, stating that the minimum age for joining the SRS is sixteen. Now at that age, the Frog brothers were quick to travel to New Orleans, where they found the headquarters and signed up, completing the theory section with flying colours before they moved onto the physically demanding practical side: hunting.

When they first started this stage, the two of them were easily overshadowed by some of the others in the group, despite already having four kills under their belts (so to speak), their smaller stature allowing some of the larger, physically stronger cadets to overtake them in the rankings, though it was much to their surprise when they found out one of the best was a girl named (Y/n). With a pretty much unknown backstory, the sixteen year old girl had shown up many of the other cadets, holding her own in many of the harder exercises, showing off her aptitude for shooting and fighting, flooring some of the most muscular rookies training with them with ease. It was no wonder Edgar developed a crush on her.

"Frog! I do hope you intend on moving soon, or you'll be stuck on clearing duty for a week!" A senior officer snaps at him from somewhere to his left, drawing him from his brief lapse into his head.

"Yes, ma'am!" He shouts back, knowing how they hate to be ignored.

"Get a move on!"

Gritting his teeth, Edgar follows his brother out onto the next stage - a variety of elevated logs providing bridges across a swampy areas of ground. In the pouring rain the logs have already become waterlogged, making them slippery and dangerous.

Approaching one, he leaps up and grabs the end of it, quickly heaving himself onto the narrow stretch of wood, catching his balance before he steadily steps along it, going with the incline as much as possible, biting his lip as his feet slip a little on the wood. Nearing the end of the log, he locates the closest one to it and jumps to it, landing shakily on the lifted end, repeating the process until he has safely crossed it, catching up to his brother as they run the last few kilometres across the marshy land, breathing heavily in the pouring rain. The finish line comes into view, the posts signifying its presence only just visible through the rain, the flags topping them slapping wetly against the poles they are attached to, concealing the familiar insignia of the SRS from view.

With one last push, Edgar and Alan throw themselves over the finish line, trying not to collapse in exhaustion as they quickly stretch out their stiffening muscles, neither of them saying a word until they've caught their breath back, going to stand with the other cadets who have already finished it.

"One hour, fourteen minutes and forty-three seconds. Not bad, Frogs, not bad." The drillmaster informs them as they get close, the two of them brightening up slightly at the sound of that; it's a new personal best.

"Nice one, you two." A familiar voice congratulates them, the two of them turning to find (Y/n) standing there, a genuine smile on her features, mud striping her cheeks like war paint, most likely the result of her team mate getting a little over-zealous on one of the obstacles.

"Thanks." Alan smiles back, looking to Edgar as he struggles to reply.

"Err, yeah, thanks, you did really well, too." He finally manages, blushing as he looks away, suddenly feeling very hot.

"Thank you." She acknowledges, making eye contact briefly before turning away, going back to her team mate.

"You're smitten." Alan rolls his eyes, looking over at his brother in exasperation.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Stop trying to hide it, Edgar, I'm your brother, I see all these things."

*

The drillmaster's words ring clearly in Edgar's head as he steps through the darkened corridors, making his way in and around broken furniture and piles of ceiling debris, his helmet limiting his vision greatly.

"Don't get caught off guard, or they'll have your ass for breakfast."

Of course, you'd hope that he was being metaphorical, but the cadets are all aware of one fact: he isn't. Not when they've all been tasked with clearing an abandoned hospital of the supernatural beings squatting there, particularly the wraithes and their carnivorous tendencies, most of which are to blame for the hospital's fall in the first place.

A piece of glass shattering behind him snaps him from his thoughts, the sound instilling a sense of fear into him as he slowly turns, freezing in place when he sees a shape in the hallway behind him. From where he is, he can't tell what it is, but he knows it won't hesitate to kill him, so he lifts the gun in his hands to shoulder level, cocking it gingerly, body shaking in fear. Aiming steadily, he let's the flashlight roam across the shape, only to let out a breath when he sees what, or rather who, it is.

"(Y/n)?!" He hisses out to her, surprised that she is in this part of the building.

"Edgar? Is that you?" Her voice floats back over to him, the cadet holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the bright light.

"Yeah, it's me. You found anything yet?" He responds, secretly pleased that she actually remembers his name.

"No. Have you?" She clarifies, coming over to him, her gun held comfortably over her abdomen as she stays prepared, ready to shoot anything dangerous.

"Not yet."

"That's good." She looks him in the eye, "I kinda wanted to talk to you, though this probably isn't the best time."

Edgar gazes at her, surprised at what she is saying, an eyebrow lifting under the visor of his protective helmet.

"You wanted to talk to me?" He asks, incredulous.

"Yeah, I do." She nods, looking away again, her fingers tapping nervously on the stock of the gun.

"What about?"

She is silent for a minute, before she takes a deep breath and responds, relaxing her shoulders as she tries to stay calm.

"I just wanted to tell you about how I feel about you. Edgar, I know this is weird because we don't really know each other, and you probably don't feel the same way, but I, well, I like you. A lot."

There is an awkward moment of quiet between us as he tries to figure out how to respond correctly.

"You...you like me?" He finally manages to ask, not quite believing what he heard before.

"Yeah, I do. I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I just thought you should know." (Y/n) explains, going to move past him, before he stops her with a hand on her arm.

"(Y/n), I've had a crush on you for the longest time, I just didn't know how to tell you." He informs her, waiting for a reaction.

"...really?"

"Yeah. Just ask my brother, he figured it out pretty quickly."

She smiles beneath her visor, clearly much happier now that the initial worry is over.

"I'm glad. Maybe when we get some free time, we could go on a date?" She suggests, adjusting her grip on the weapon.

Edgar smiles back at her.

"I'd like that."

[miraculousmarifan]

Felinette Month 2020 - Day 20: Beach Day

Sorry for the delay! Things are getting crazy so there will likely be more delay before the rest of the @felinettenovember prompts are finished. I’ll definitely still write them all though, if you guys decide to stick around for it!

This will probably be my most inappropriate one, with a hormonal teenage Felix at the beach with their class. At most it’s PG-13, so don’t feel too worried, and it’s only part of like two paragraphs closer to the beginning.

Around 1500 words

Marinette has been a natural designer since before Felix had met her. She seemed born with fashion in mind, functional fashion rather than the absurd looks many designers focused on for the runway. He knew she was going places, even before he heard Gabriel discussing her internship offer with Nathalie. 

With her natural ability, Marinette knew how to best emphasize certain areas while minimizing less flattering features. Unfortunately this talent also drew Felix’s eyes and made him feel like a dirty pervert. Part of him hated agreeing to go on this pointless school trip, a trip to the beach to celebrate their upcoming graduation. Soon everyone would head into their separate fields and there'd be less excuses to see each other. Felix would miss out on seeing the lovely Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He held out hopes that after he finished his business management degree and started working to learn the ropes of Gabriel (in order to eventually take over part of the family business), he may be able to sneak in and see Marinette more often... If she did accept the internship offered… and stayed with the company that long… and wasn't being worked to death… the last one he could at least try to prevent at that point by trying to force her to take necessary breaks.

The fondness he was harboring (a large crush if plainly said, obvious to all even if he refuses to directly acknowledge it, Marinette included) directly lead to his agreement to go to the beach with their class, most of their expenses covered (at least in part by a sizeable donation he had finagled anonymously), and therefore to his current predicament: the distracting state of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Sporting a lovely swimsuit of her own design, she looked modest yet more eye catching than usual. The top half appeared to be some hybrid between a halter and a bandeau top, with cloth and strings going down to her bottoms in a way that not only held the pieces together and more firmly in place but also drew the eyes over her ridiculously toned stomach and towards her hips. The bottoms fit well, hugging her curves and covering her actual butt, rather than showing "hints" like many of their classmates while still making its existence known,  complete with some bows tied on to add a certain degree of "innocent modesty" to the design. The shades of pink and blue she chose were perfect for both her skin tone and to bring out the depths in her eyes. She was indeed phenomenal in her design capacities and very possibly toying with him. 

And Felix couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from tracing over her, from her bright smile down to her muscular stomach (what kinds of workouts is she getting at that bakery?!), back up to the hair twisting between her swimsuit strap and her neck, and then to her face again. The sound of her laugh ringing out didn't help him focus on gaining composure.

Repeatedly he would lay down and cover his face with the book he had chosen to bring (an older copy of his that wouldn't be worsened by the sand or dirt getting on it), all in hopes that he could will away the fantasies worming their way into his thoughts. Kissing her, one hand behind her neck wrapping around strands of thick dark hair, the other on her hips. Feeling the warmth of her skin from soaking up sun and smelling the delicious perfume she preferred lately, her body pulled close. Her hands drifting up my chest or, better yet, my back as she tries to limit the space between us. Felix smacked his face in hopes of pushing out his perverted thoughts. Damn hormones. She isn't an object to be used, she deserves to be treated with respect!

In his concentration Felix missed that he was actually groaning incoherently out loud, as well as the sound of Marinette approaching to invite him to build a sandcastle with her. Her voice made him jump and a blush spread across his entire face.

"Hey Felix! I know you've got your book but I was wondering if you wanted to help me build a sandcastle? You've got really steady hands and a nack for structure!" She smiled hopefully, leaning over towards him with her hands on her knees. Felix looked away and noticed more than one set of eyes watching them jealously. Marinette was definitely beautiful.

"Heeeey… you startled me… are you sure you don't want to build it with someone else? I don't mind helping but you might have more fun with someone else," he stumbled through his words, trying really hard to avoid looking towards her face and body without seeming rude. At that angle, it was too hard not to see her body while looking at her face and he knew it would distract him too much. He hated how much his hormones had flared up in recent months.

She laughed in her usual bright manner in reply to his weak protest and reached a hand out towards him. He accepted as she told him to come on and pulled him towards a sandy spot far enough in to avoid the waves rushing over it but close enough that they could easily get the more wet sand. Marinette had already picked the perfect spot out by setting a few cups of different sizes, a few gardening tools, and a few drinks partially buried in the sand. As they arrived, she pulled one bottle out of its wet sand holder and checked that Felix liked that kind. He appreciated how attentive she was to people's preferences. She pulled out a different soda and took a sip before returning it to her homemade cup holder. Felix followed suit, then took his place across from her and picked up a small rake-like tool.

He began scraping across the sand, both pulling up sand and flattening out the area. He slowly packed the displaced sand into one of the largest cups in tandem with his landscaping. Marinette watched him for a bit, then picked up a small cup and went to the water's edge to collect some water.

With one large cup filled with sand, he put it down to start building the wall towers. Marinette began pulling sand from other surrounding areas and wetting it with her additional water to pack it into the mold. Soon the two had worked seamlessly to build the outline of a large castle with tall walled areas and it was ready to be shaped further. Felix found that while he could sneak glances at Marinette as the sun shone off her hair beautifully and, with something concrete to focus on and keep his hands moving, it was much easier to keep his mind from straying to the inappropriate. 

The two managed to smooth the walls, make indents for arched windows, and the shape of a door. On the outer walls, they made what looked like a drawbridge pulled up and indents on the top made it look like the tower had crenelation. They had determined a moat would be ideal for their castle's defense. This they made deep, digging down until the sand was almost closer to being dirt, then made a path down to the water's edge so the tide could run down. Rather than digging the entire way deeply, they angled the path so the water would be encouraged to move that direction while theoretically also containing a minimum amount of the water that already flowed into the moat. Finally they moved some of the water directly into the moat so it would have a start.

By the time they finished, a few classmates were watching with interest. Marinette took a quick photo on her phone, telling Felix to pose next to it with a smile. He obliged only for her sake.

Felix stood and stretched, giving his body some time to loosen up after crouching for so long. Suddenly a little bit of water splashed on his back, startling him. Marinette laughed behind him and he turned, face expressing some of the shock he felt. She cracked up even more and Felix decided this was worth getting revenge.

He sprinted towards her in the water and she reached too slow for his surprising speed. He managed to grab her by the waist and twist her around, causing her to fall gently into the slightly deeper water. She continued laughing and Felix grinned before she pulled him into the water with her. This was a challenge he couldn't ignore so he began the splashing contest between the two.

On the shore, Nino and Alya watched from their blanket under an umbrella. The two wondered aloud if they should start a betting pool on who would win or how long it would take the two to start dating. They decided both would be appropriate. 

[gnollface]

“My time with the Gnolls.”

(Wrote this as a proof of concept for another anthology project, reading it again i want to revisit it.)

"My time with the Gnolls."

📷

(Wrote this as a proof of concept for another anthology project, reading it again i want to revisit it.)

Excerpt from "My time with the Gnolls" by Dr. Jaysis Une

“When i first began informing my colleagues and friends of my desire to begin an in depth study of the Gnoll race the responses were more or less what one might expect and largely (and unsurprisingly uniform.)

The consensus being that I had, quite simply, lost my mind.

What more could there possibly be to know? Gnolls were mindless blood thirsty demon spawn and

To embark on such a course was akin to suicide.

I took no offense,

I like them, knew well the stories of the savage and brutal nature of the minions of Yeenoghu

“The goddess of slaughter”

“The ruler of Ruin” and any number of other terrifying descriptors.

The Gnolls were little more than horrific and infernal automatons focused solely on slaughtering any living thing standing before them so that they may in turn slaughter any that might further be found behind those tragic souls.

And So while this was not my first dangerous subject to pursue, it was far and away the most

And as such i did my full due diligence as a man of science and assembled all the knowledge i had gained personally to that point and sought out master hunters, warriors and soldiers to add any first hand information i was able before crafting a master plan and outline to maximize my safety while still maintaining my ability to study and observe my horrific quarry. My preparations took the better part of a year before i felt comfortable to embark.

But as the old Gnomish saying goes “All great tragedy follows once great plans”

And i am ashamed to admit it was a humblingly short amount of time until,

despite my best efforts,

my worst fears had come to pass and I found myself captured by the Gnoll warband I had,

To this point, thought I was following from a safe distance unseen.

For reasons i even now still do not fully understand the Gnoll scouts did not immediately kill me but brought me back to their makeshift camp and threw me to the bottom of a roughly dug dirt pit

its top covered with a crudely made barred gate of sticks and branches.

I landed awkwardly and the hard soil and clay bottom with a sound that sickens me to recall to this day.

I had only just begun to gather my bearings and assess the nature of my situation when a low and gravelly voice reached me from a darkened corner at the other side of the pit.

"You must go…..out." it said.

I quickly jumped up from my knees to my feet and backed myself against the wall in fear.

I was not alone in my cell

But a very distinct terror washed over me as my eyes, now adjusting to the dark, made out the shape of my new cell mate, another large Gnoll.

A flood of thoughts filled my head, was this some kind of Chieftain?

Was I to be its food?

Perhaps a toy to be sacrificed to their demon goddess?

What should i do?

I was a researcher, a biologist, not a fighter, i would not mount much of a defense against this hulking creature.

"Wuh-what?` `I replied, shaking in fear.

"They keep you….for Flind. ( Referring to a massive gnoll often serving as warchief for the band )

“Flind mad...when others...leave no blood." The Gnoll explained to me quietly seemingly struggly to capture each word in its head before using it

It said all this without looking over.

For whatever reason, perhaps something in its tone, my fear began to subside slightly, something led me to believe perhaps my new cellmate was not the threat to me I immediately feared..

"Why have they thrown you in here?" I asked him (i think it was a him) surprising myself, the words had left my mouth before i even registered the idea of asking it

I cautiously lowered myself to the floor against the wall opposite him.

"I am...broken." He responded meekly and though i can't be certain, i swear he smirked and chuckled as he made this comment.

Gnolls make such a variety of noises it's often hard to determine.

"Broken?" I pressed, confused, perhaps in his shallow grasp of common he had misspoke?

With this he looked down from the barred ceiling and towards me for the first time,

what little light that was reaching us at the bottom of our hole now reflecting in his yellow eyes giving them the appearance of glowing cinders.

It sent chills down my spine like ice water.

"I am….clean of Yeenoghu, I no…..hear yeenoghu, I do not….heed, I am clean.

Broken...they say." he pointed upwards as he explained to clarify whom he was speaking of.

Though his common tongue was not very fluid he definitely demonstrated a level of intelligence i to this point had never seen exhibited in a Gnoll.

The scientist inside me roared to life, my mind overcome with questions and possibilities, no longer considering the very real danger of my predicament. I straightened myself into a more comfortable position and swatted some dirt from my pants.

"My name is Jaysis, well met." I offered.

He turned his head away slightly and side eyed me

seemingly confused and slightly suspicious before returning his gaze skyward.

after a moment or two, perhaps after consideration

"Hoontra, I am Hoontra"

The large gnoll offered back tapping his big clawed hands against his chest as he too straightened to face me better, it was then, as he came more into the limited light that i noticed he was gravely injured,

both his legs were badly broken.

"You're hurt." i pointed to his legs stating what must have seemed obvious.

Hoontra shrugged,

"Dead soon...gone...Home soon." he replied as he looked up at the night sky through the bars as if contemplating the stars, calmly, and remarkably so considering his words.

As the night went on I started to more clearly notice His mannerisms and movements. they expressed a thoughtfulness that surprised me more than his intelligence.

Gnolls with thoughts?

It was then another thought came to me.

If Hoontra was resigned to his imminent demise what hope could i possibly have?

Well if this is how i am to die, I thought to myself, then I shall die as I lived, and I again pressed the Gnoll for more information.

"How did you become Broken?...eh Clean Hoontra?" i asked him

and again the big gnoll shrugged, not breaking his skyward gaze.

"Hoontra battle..and fall...hurt..Hoontra look quiet place to die, find pretty place, many trees.That place... mama call me, I wake up….clean, no mad, no hungry, no red, just Hoontra. Hoontra and Mama." with this Hoontra resignedly smiled, I suppose i can't be certain it was a smile, an exposing of the fangs for a gnoll is no rare thing…...but i like to believe it was.

I took in what he said in stunned silence, here i sat having a conversation with a Gnoll, what would the others think of this story? I’d likely never learn the answer to that question.

There Hoontra sat staring skyward, he showed no sign of pain, no sign of anger, sadness or anxiety, just what seemed contentment as he continued to look out into the night.

But each answer Hoontra gave me only raised more questions in me

"Who is Mama Hoontra? Who cleaned you? " I asked

With this question again Hoontra looked to me and extended his large muscular arm to the dirt wall besides him and gently pressed his large clawed fingers against a roughly carved image of a Unicorn head.

"MeekiLee, Meekilee is mama." The coincidences were too striking to not be comfortable in assuming that "MeekiLee" was his pronunciation or interpretation of Mielikki the forest goddess.

I was gobsmacked, was it true? Could the Gnolls be cleansed of their demonic taint? Had the ranger goddess cleansed this gnoll? But my internal debate was interrupted as Hoontra continued

"Meekilee forgive and clean... soon Hoontra die and run in tall grass...forever, and Meekilee run with me." Hoontra looked to a small wooden circle carved with the image of a unicorn he wore around his neck tied with some shoddy twine. He turned it around in his fingers for a few seconds before shifting onto his back exhaling deeply, as he moved. For the first time it was clear that he was in some pain

"I sleep...you escape...wake up Hoontra...Hoontra help" I nodded and smiled at this most surprising beast and crossed my arms, a million questions rolling through my mind keeping the the reality of my imminent death at bay.

After some time my thoughts however were broken by the sudden sounds of battle above. Hoontra quickly straightened up eyes wide. With a stunning speed he launched himself forward on just his arms, dragging his broken legs behind him and grabbed me.

He pulled me behind his huge body defensively and lowered his head in a gutteral snarl, the black mohawk of hair running down his spine spiking upwards. I tensed in fear suddenly overwhelmed by everything going on around me,

was this it? was this how i die?

I sunk my fingers into the tattered cloak Hoontra wore over his back and I closed my eyes when suddenly a loud BANG rang out from above followed by several gentle thuds.

Hoontras body tensed suddenly and then he exhaled deeply and his body went limp as he collapsed before me.

“Hoontra!” i said loudly as I shook him, paying no mind to whatever was above.

"Jaysis! Jaysis Une! are you down there? " a human voice called down into the hole as light suddenly surrounded me.

"Yes! im here!" I responded as I looked up and saw three armed men holding crossbows and a torch.

"You ok?" another of the men continued.

"Im unharmed!" I yelled back suddenly relieved

but that feeling quickly changed as I looked down at the body of Hoontra.

"Ok just hold on a minute. we'll find some rope and get you out of there." the men said as they walked out of my range of vision.

I rolled Hoontra over onto his back as gently as I was able, he was shockingly heavy, I surveyed his arrow riddled body and sighed as I struggled to pull his arms over to cross his stomach in some feeble attempt at a show of respect.

There was no way the men would have known, How could they? who in a million years would ever believe a Gnoll could be anything, but well...a gnoll?

I sat beside Hoontra for a few minutes collecting my thoughts, now being able to truly appreciate how big a gnoll is, knowing, id likely never be this close to one again.It was then i noticed that his one hand was closed in a fist, grasping the small wooden symbol of his “Meekilee”

a peaceful smile, yes, it was a smile, on his scarred canine face.

"Doctor! we're lowering the rope to you now." the men had returned.

"Gentleman!" i spoke back "I'm going to need to take this corpse back with me….for study " i said to the men.

The leader sighed "Doctor, there are plenty of dead gnolls up here we ...." he tried to explain when i cut him off

"No, I need this one, ten gold for each of you if you help me get it back to my home." With this the men's eyes widened and with smiles they hurried off to find more rope.

Of course there will be no study.

There is a clearing in my garden at the base of an old oak tree surrounded by different flowers and bushes and such. It has a clear view of the sky and the stars at night, I often sit there to read my books by candle light or a small fire.

occasionally, distracted by the infinity of the night sky i stare off and wonder about everything

and nothing.

This is where ill bury my friend Hoontra and perhaps ill leave a carved unicorn so Meekilee will know where to find her son so they may run together in the tall grass forever.

[thedreammweaver]

Last Christmas (Burton-schumacherverse riddlebird, angst, hurt/comfort)

(A/N: Yes this is based off of the Wham! song of the same name)

Warnings: Depression

Ed rung Oswald’s doorbell again, beginning to get worried. He should’ve said something but then Oswald would know how much he cared. He supposed it didn’t matter now as his caring was made obvious by him being the only one of the rogues to check up on Oswald after...what happened.

Harvey had started a bet to see how long Selina could lead Oswald on. It took some prodding but Selina eventually decided to go along with it. Ed could at least say he never got involved, still he regretted not being honest with poor Ozzie. It ended up with Oswald proposing to Selina and being very savagely shut down, he hadn’t come out of his house since. He’d of course proposed to her once the December prior but not in front of his peers where he could be publicly humiliated. Ed cringed as he remembered how what little color was in Oswald’s face drained away as the laughter started. It was the sort of teasing you’d expect from schoolyard bullies not adults. Ed was afraid Oswald would hurt Selina out of anger but he looked too heartbroken to do anything but run away and hide that day. Ed became hopeful when he heard the floor creaking as Oswald waddled up to the door. When he opened it Ed could tell he’d been crying.

“What do you want?” He asked gruffly.

“I just wanted to..check on you, I guess. Besides no one should be alone on Christmas Eve.” Ed said shyly, shuffling his feet.

Oswald looked skeptical but left the door open for Ed to come in anyways. “It’s Christmas Eve, is it?” Oswald asked, waddling back to where he’d been in his sitting room. “Yeah..” Ed mumbled, the place was a mess and he could tell that Oswald hadn’t showered in a while. “I didn’t notice.” Oswald growled, flopping onto the couch he’d been spending most of his time on. Ed sat on an armchair opposite him. “So...how have you been?”

“Great..” Oswald said sarcastically, his voice muffled as he was face down in throw pillows. “Oswald, I’m sorry...I should’ve said something sooner-“

“Sooner?” Oswald sat up “You knew?!”

Ed’s face flushed red “Y-Yes...please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.” Oswald said a little too quickly, getting up off the couch. “I’m gonna make us tea and I will be..right back...stay here.” Oswald said before disappearing into the kitchen.

Ed nervously bounced his leg until Oswald came back with the tea. He really didn’t seem to be upset which was a relief but after a few sips Ed felt like maybe he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before....and then sleep deprived turned into downright woozy. As whatever Os had spiked his cup with took effect Ed realized he should’ve kept his mouth shut, that was the last thing he thought before everything went black and he felt himself falling over.

  It was cold and Ed heard splashing...above him? He opened his eyes slowly, Oswald had taken his glasses as everything was blurry. After a few seconds he realized he was hanging upside down over the water in Oswald’s old lair. He didn’t understand. Was this supposed to be threatening? Oswald had cleared the space of toxic waste and he didn’t know Ed wasn’t the best swimmer so what was the point of this? Ed assumed the splashing below him was penguins but he didn’t hear any squawking. He looked down and tried to figure out what was in the water. To him it just looked like a big blurry grey shape, Oswald had a lot of marine creatures so it could be a seal or manatee? But it looked too big and it moved wrong. Only when the thing suddenly jumped out of the water and snapped it’s jaws shut inches from Ed’s face could he see what the thing was. Oswald had put him above a fucking shark. The scream he let out was so involuntary he hadn’t even heard it. Soon Oswald came around the corner “Finally awake I see.”

Ed found himself so filled with fear he couldn’t speak. He could tell if he was shaking from terror or from the fact he was freezing as when the shark fell back to the water it had splashed and soaked him with frigid water.

“Usually I regret purchases I make during depressive episodes but Tiny here has proved to be very useful.”

“O-O-Oswald, I-“

“You knew and you didn’t say anything! You’re just as bad as them!” He yelled moving over to the other end of the rope that was holding Ed up and started lowering it a bit.

“Oswald, wait!! I’m sorry!!”

“No, you’re not. Don’t pretend to care about me....that’s even more insulting.” Oswald muttered lowering Ed closer to the water.

“I-I do care about you. That’s why I didn’t tell you..”

Oswald stopped lowering the rope “What?”

“I was going to tell you but then the thought of you proposing to her...instead of me...made me so angry I wanted to see it blow up in your face..” hearing himself say it made Ed feel ashamed, he was also quite uncomfortable as the water on him was already beginning to turn to ice “But seeing you sad hurts more than anything, Ozzie, I just want you happy..” he managed through chattering teeth.

Oswald paused but soon was pulling Ed back up. “You mean that?”

“Yes!” Ed yelled, hoping Oswald wasn’t toying with him and about to just drop him. Luckily his fear fueled confession seemed to actually sway the Penguin.

    Ed was still shivering though he was in front of Oswald’s fireplace wrapped in Oswald’s bedcovers. “Sorry for almost killing you.” Oswald said as he waddled back over to plop down on the rug next to Ed. He offered Ed a cup of hot chocolate “I promise this one isn’t drugged.” Ed accepted the cup, greatly needing to raise his internal temperature. “S’okay, I probably would’ve almost killed me too..” he mumbled, his speech shaky due to his shivering.

“You really mean everything you said?” Oswald asked.

“With all my heart.”

There was a beat of silence “Even the part about you wishing I’d proposed to you instead?”

Ed froze, this time in a way not related to his temperature “Well....yes.”

“Okay.” Oswald scooted closer and wrapped one of his arms around Ed “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[thywanderer]

Fallen Star (Chapter 1 excerpt)

Hello everyone! I’ve been working on a Tangled AU fanfic lately and I thought I’d share some of it here! This is an excerpt from the first chapter. Not ready to post the full chapter just yet, but I should be soon! 

For the story, this will be a Moon!Varian based AU with a few other ideas I had of what could have been a part of the show. The story centers around Varian and my oc, takes place in season 3 right after Rapunzel’s Return, and diverges from canon from there. So there will be major changes from season 3 in this story. Changes that I hope everyone can enjoy. 

Please enjoy this snippet!

XxXxXxXx

The Moon shone brightly in a clear night, casting dim shadows through the large window of a castle. A few of the shadows twisted and turned in sinister shapes as thick bars lay across the tall window, keeping anyone from entering—or rather exiting said window.

An old grandfather clock ticked away in the far reaches of the circular room, creating a faint echo through the space. Large towering bookcases lined most of the room, reaching all the way to the ceiling. A ladder leading up to the top creaked as a figure climbed down. Jumping down once close enough to the bottom, the shadowy silhouette walked away from the bookshelves to go to the other side of the room. A large bed with a canopy sat near the window. On this bed were a tangle of blankets, strewn clothing on top, and a courier bag sitting at the end of the bed. The shadowed figure went to the end of the bed, digging through a creaky pine chest, shuffling through the assortment of items within. Pulling out some of the contents, the figure quickly stuffed them into the bag on the bed along with the book they had brought from the bookcase.

Going over to a vast wardrobe across from the bed, they pulled out a few clothing items before returning to the courier bag once more. Once finishing packing, they shut the bag before letting out a heavy sigh. Walking away from the bed, they slowly made their way over to the large window. The moonlight slowly revealed a young girl. She was perhaps in her teen years from the look of her. Nothing was particularly strange about her, save for the brilliant silver hair that fell in waves around her. It was long, falling about half way down her back, and her bangs brushed the tops of her silver brows. The color was very unique, nothing like the silver one may find on an elderly person. No, this hair almost glowed as the moonlight shone on it.

The girl let out another heavy sigh as she sat down on the windowsill. She gazed out to the grounds below, staring at the massive wall that surrounded the entirety of the castle. The light of the full Moon showed a few guards walking through the garden. Her blue eyes shifted to the top of the wall. The room was just high enough to see the valley woodlands beyond the castle. In the daytime, the girl knew the sight was breathtaking, which had always given her a deep yearning to go there.

The grandfather clock chimed, making the girl rise swiftly to her feet. She stood rigidly by the window, not moving an inch. Placing a hand to her chest, she took a deep breath before turning and promptly making her way to the door on the other side of the room. The door was something to behold. It was gigantic, made out of solid metal, and had massive lock mechanisms intertwining the entire construct. If one were to try and break down said door, it would be a miracle to even attempt such a feat. The girl knew this from experience as she stared at the gleaming door.

One by one, the locks on the door began to turn, clicking and clacking as it steadily unlatched. Finally, the door groaned and swung open a few inches. A male was seen kneeling by the entry, pushing forward a metal tray with an assortment of food. The girl crouched down, touching the tray gingerly.

"Hello. How's the night treating you?" the girl asked quickly, smiling sheepishly at the man. The guard’s eyes darted briefly to her before looking away.

"I'm sorry, Your Ladyship. You know I'm not allowed to speak with you," the man replied quietly.

The girl sighed, her smile dropping. "Yeah, I know." Her smile returned, though significantly less sunny than before. "Still, I wish you the best tonight."

"Thank you, my lady." The guard nodded before standing to heave the door shut once more. 

The girl stood with tray in hand, listening to each lock fall back into place. She took the tray to one of her study desks by the bookshelves, placing it down onto the mess of papers scattered across the tabletop. There was not much food. A hunk of cheese. A small baggie of cookies. A flask of water. It was more akin to a traveller’s rations than an evening snack for a ladyship. She seized everything from the tray, hurriedly going over to her bag and shoving it all inside.

"Okay, okay . . . I think I have everything," she whispered in a breath to herself. She placed the bag over her shoulder before going back over to the tray. It was empty now with just a silver plate left on it. She turned it over to reveal a large key that was stuck to the back. Pulling it off, she held it close to her chest as she made her way back over to the broad door. "Oops, almost forgot." She went back over, grabbing the glass cup from the tray before stepping to the door. She pressed the cup to the metal and then her ear to the bottom of the cup. She waited with bated breath, straining to listen.

Soon, she heard the guard change coming up the stairs.

"Evening, Henry," came a gruff sounding male voice. She could barely hear this through the thick metal, but was glad she could.

"Ready for the night to be over," replied Henry, the man who had given her the food moments before.

"Aye, I hear you," said the gruff man. There was some shuffling of steps.

"Wait, do you hear something?" said Henry, sounding concerned.

"What?"

"It came from the window."

"Huh? I don't hear anything."

The girl flinched as she heard a loud thunk and a sharp surprised gasp from a man before the falling of a body to the floor. Acting quick, she tossed the glass aside and whipped out a black ribbon from her trouser pocket to tie her hair back with a bow before pushing the key into the keyhole on the door. All locks made a loud clack collectively as she turned the key. With a grunt, she pulled hard on the door, making it open slowly. She felt she was not moving quick enough. Time was short now for her.

She managed to squeeze through the small gap she had made in the doorway. Stepping out into the dimly lit hallway, she saw the new guard was unconscious on the ground at her feet. Looking at the other man, she saw how he sheathed his sword and knew he had used the hilt of it to knock out the guard.

"Thank you, Henry," she breathed as she pulled out the large wrench from the strap on her leg. "Sorry about this."

"Don't worry, I've dealt with worse," chuckled Henry. She closed her eyes as she struck him on the back of the head with her wrench, peeking them open as soon as she heard him fall to the floor. She felt bad about having to hurt him, but she had to make it look believable. Henry would have been in a lot more trouble if it looked like he had helped her in any way.

Turning down the hallway, she walked away from the stairs (what would have been the obvious exit) and instead opened the window at the end of the hall. Retrieving a strange device from her bag that looked like a small crossbow of sorts, she then pointed it at the wall that surrounded the castle. At the end of this mini crossbow was a three-clawed hook resembling that of an eagle's talon. Squinting, she aimed carefully before firing the device. Out shot the claw from the device, sailing true and straight to the wall. It hit the top of the wall, sinking into the stone with ease. The girl tugged a bit on the rope that was attached to the claw across the way, making certain it was securely fastened before climbing up onto the window's ledge. Letting out a small wavering breath, she wrapped the rope's end securely in her hand before making a leap out of the window. The cool air of the night felt amazing as she swung across the large gap between the castle and the wall, her silvery hair blowing behind her in a ponytail. Placing her feet out, she used them to brace herself when she hit the wall. With quick action, she hooked the rope into the crossbow-like tool. She then cranked on the device before releasing a small lever on the side of the bow. It whirled to life, feeding the rope through itself causing the girl to practically fly up to the wall's top. Once at the top, she hurriedly walked across the top of the wall and prepared herself to go down the other side.

Her blue eyes drifted back to the old, unwelcoming castle behind her, the place that had been her only home her whole life. She felt a mixture of emotions as she stared at it. But her expression grew determined as she flipped a lever on her device and she was lowered to the ground below. The moment her feet touched the grass, she yanked the rope and caused the claw on the wall to release, falling back to her. Flipping the lever from before, the rope spun and the claw was back in place on the device once more. Putting her device back into her bag, she looked at the wall while slowly backing up.

"Goodbye," she whispered, before smiling brightly and turning to the woods before her, running into the night.

[sassyduckqueen]

Team Miraculous: Stoneheart (1/2)

New Lukanette story. Done in a similar style to my 30 Days of Lukanette but with Viperion as a hero from the very beginning. Hope you guys enjoy

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"Jules, you ok?" Luka asked as they walked to school. She had been more quiet then usual as they walked but he wasn't surprise. It was a new school year and she was nervous. She sighed softly and looked at him.

 "I d-don't w-want to be in C-Chloe's c-class again," She mumbled, pushing her hair back before letting it fall again, making him frown.

 "You'll be fine," He smiled, ruffling her hair. "I believe in you,"

 "T-thanks," She mumbled as they turned left. "I j-just... y-you know..."

 "Yeah, I know but this year is gonna be different for both of us," He grinned, looking to the sky. "I just know it,"

 "Y-you're t-too h-happy," She grinned, making him smile before they turned a corner. He frowned as he saw an old man struggling to walk before he felt over. Luka rushed over and helped him up, grabbing his cane for him too.

 "Are you ok?" He asked, concern in his face but the old man smiled and nodded.

 "Thank you, young man," He grinned before going on his way. Luka nodded and turned back to Juleka before they crossed the road and headed into the school yard. He gave her some more words of encouragement before heading to his own class. He grabbed his seat in the back and took out his notebook. He flicked it to a clear page and began to write his next guitar piece. The teacher came in and began to hand out their timetable for their lessons. Luka took his and looked at it before sighing. He had double maths straight away. He groaned and mentally wished he had his guitar with him. Unfortunately, the school didn't like him carrying around a guitar to communicate with people, despite the fact that he made more sense with it. He also hated that the teachers claimed that music wasn't everything. To him, Music was life. It was all around the world. From the air to the sound of people's heartbeats and he could hear it all. He could feel every note in everything. It was just what he did. His mother said it was his language and a gift. He wasn't so sure if it was a gift but he agreed with it been his language. He understood music to an almost supernatural extent. It was literally second nature to him. It was very to how a snake can feel vibrations in his eyes. He could feel music in a similar way. The bell went and he sighed to himself. Time to face the horror that was double maths. He closed his notebook and put it in his bag before heading down to the maths area. However before he could, the school shook violently. Luka frowned and looked around as a second tremor caused everyone to panic. Luka rushed over to the window and looked out. His eyes widen in shock as he saw a figure made of stone. It grabbed a car and threw into the wall.

 "KIM!" It growled, making him frown. He bolted to the door and ran out into the courtyard as his first instinct was to find Juleka and make sure she was ok. A girl with red hair rushed by him looked excited but a good few other students were rushing out, panicking. He frowned deeply before crashing into someone.

 "Oww," The girl mumbled as he got up and helped her up. She had pigtails in her hair and bright blue eyes. "Sorry!"

 "No worries. It was my fault anyway," He smiled but worry washed over his face. "I don't suppose you'll seen a girl with black and purple hair have you?"

 "You mean Juleka?" She asked. He nodded. "She was in the libary,"

 "Thank you!" He replied, running over as students ran out. He rushed into the library and looked around. Fortunately, it didn't take long to find her. She was curled up under the table, having a mild panic attack. "Jules,"

 "Luka!" She gasped, hugging him. He hugged back and rubbed her back. "T-there's a monster! Not l-like a cool m-monster e-either!"

 "I know," He replies, helping her up as a teacher came in.

 "School's been evacuated and is closed for the rest of the day," She stated, making the two of them nod. They left the library. Luka looked round and noticed the girl with the pig tails, looking worried. He walked out with Juleka as the teachers directed them out before the two headed back to the Seine. It didn't take them long to walk there, though Luka felt a little unsafe on the boat but it looked like the monster wasn't anywhere near their home. Juleka instantly headed back into her room as he put his bag down and turned on the TV and flicking it onto the News.

 "I'm personally asking all Parisians to stay at home until this situation is under control," Mayor Bourgeois demanded as microphones and cameras were pushed to his face. Luka frowned deeply as it switched back to the TV reporter.

 "As incredible as it seems, it's been confirmed that Paris is indeed been attacked by a supervillain," Nadja Chamack confirmed as she read her lines. Luka frowned even more as he listened. "The police have been struggling to keep the situation under control,"

 The scene switched to an interview with the chief of police, Roger Raincomprix, who appeared to have a broken arm.

 "Be conidient that strong arm of the law will come crashing down on- urg!" He gasped in pain as he lifted his arm before looking meekily towards the tv. "I mean the other arm,"

 "Great," Luka mumbled. He didn't really have much faith in the justice system. Probably because his mother was a bit of a rebel but it was obvious they had bitten off more then could chew. He sighed to himself before a small hexagon shaped box caught his attention. He rose an eyebrow and picked it up. He noticed the odd red symbol on it and frowned deeply. "What's this doing here?"

 As soon as he opened it, a blinding green light burst from it, causing him to drop and shield his eyes. It formed into a small little creature that looked like a little snake but with arms and legs. It had it's eyes closed as Luka stared at it in completely shock. It blinked and opened it's eyes before crossing it's legs and smiling at him.

 "Greetings, my name is Sass and I'll be your Kwami," The little creature declared with confident. Luka stared at it in shock before freaking out.

 "Jules!!" He began to shout but the little creature waved it's head and shook it's head.

 "You mustn't tell anyone else about me, Luka! No one must know I exist,"

 "How did you know my name?" He gasped, worried. "Are you... real?"

 "Yes,"

 "So I haven't gone... you know.... crazy?"

 "No,"

 "Ok, good... why are you here then?"

 "You have been chosen to be a wielder of a miraculous," The little creature nodded. "I grant the power to reset time but this power must be used for the greater good,"

 "Ok that seems fair... wait is that how that stone creature exists? Is that because of a Kwami?"

 "You're a fast learner, Luka," It replied, nodded. "But yes. That creature is an akuma and it must be stopped. You will find two others who will help you stop it,"

 "Whoa! Hold up! I'm suppose to stop that thing?!" 

 "Using your super power. It's called Second Chance. You have five minutes to use it but in that time, you can reset time as much as you want but once that five minutes is up, you'll detransform back into your civilian mode," The creature explained, causing Luka to nod as he picked up the bracelet in the box. "That is the miraculous,"

 "I have a question... a few questions actually," He gasped as he put it on. It sparkled like a normal silver bracelet. "Are you like a snake? Also what if I fail? How do I even use this super-"

 "Slow down. One, you'll have team mates, two, yes I am a snake and three, all you have to say is Sass, Scales Slither,"

 "Sass, Scales Slither?" He repeated but as soon as he did, the bracelet came to life. "H-hey! What's going on?!"

 A lyre appeared in his hands and his everyday outfit was replaced with a new suit then a mask appeared around his eyes before he found himself stood in the living quarters of the Liberty in a green snaked based suit. He moved around, frowning to himself before noticing Sass wasn't around.

 "Sass... where did you go?" He frowned as the little Kwami didn't answer. "Sass? Please, answer me?"

 Nothing. He frowned softly before looking towards the TV.

 "Stoneheart is heading towards the Montparnasse tower," The woman on the TV stated but Luka frowned as he noticed a girl on a bike following the monster. He took a deep breathe before placing the lyre on his back.

 "Ok, Sass said I would have team mates so maybe I should go and find them first," He mutter before exiting the boat and running as fast as he could through the streets of Paris. He stopped and frowned as he realized he was had made it to the Arc de Triomphe in less then five minutes, despite it been a half an hour walk from where his home was. He looked up at the Paris rooftops before running and jumping. He misplaced how high he could jump and found himself crashing into a roof. "Oww,"

 He got up and dusted himself down as he heard a yell. He looked over and saw two people hanging from a pole. One was a girl dressed in a one piece that was red with black dots and the other was a guy dressed as a black cat. He would guess they were the others Sass told them about. The cat boy freed them and stood up.

 "I bet you're one of the partners my Kwami told me about. I'm... hmm..." He looked away to think as she tried to pull a string . "Cat Noir... yeah, Cat Noir and you are?"

 She yanked it free and it landed on Cat Noir's head. She sighed.

 "I'm madly clumsy," She mumbled, frowning. "I'm so clumsy,"

 "No worries, clumsy girl. I'm still learning the ropes too," He grinned. "I wonder where our other partner is,"

 "My Kwami mentioned a third hero..." She mumbled, rubbing her arm. Luka took a deep breath and jumped down, getting their attention. Instantly, the cat boy came over.

 "Hi! I'm Cat Noir!" He grinned, holding out his hand. Luka slowly took it and shook it.

 Lu- I mean... um.... Snake....Viper.... rion... yeah..." He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm Viperion,"

 "Viperion! Nice to meet you!!" He grinned before running up and chasing after the monster. The girl took a deep breathe before following. Luka sighed to himself and jumped up, this time landing ok before he ran towards the stadium. He landed on it as Cat Noir hit the creature, making it grow bigger. He frowned and watched as it growled and threw a football net towards the girl he saw on the news. Cat Noir went to throw his baton but the creature grabbed him and the bug girl looked terrifyied. Luka jumped down and pushed her out of the way before the net hit her. He got up but was swiped up next to Cat Noir. "Hey, scales. Think you can poison him?"

 "That's not my power, whiskers," He replied as they both struggled.

 "Hey! Super redbug girl! What are you waiting for?!" The girl shouted as bug girl watched in terror. "The whole world is watching!"

 It was like the girl's words hit a chord in her before she swooped down and wrapped her yoyo round it before diving up and running. She turned and faced it.

 "Animal cruelty? How shameful!" She gasped before yanking the rope freeing them. They both rolled over and she gasped. "Sorry it took me so long,"

 "No worries," Luka grinned.

 "It's cool, Wonderbug!" Cat grinned. "Let's go kick his rocky behind,"

 He went to run off but the bug grabbed his tail and pulled him back.

 "Haven't you noticed he gets bigger and stronger with each attack?" She mumbles, looking like she's thinking. "We have to try something different,"

 "Like what?" Luka asked but Cat grinned.

 "Let's try using our powers!" He grinned. "You go first, scales!"

 "Um ok..." He mumbled, pushing the head back of the snake. "Second Chance!"

 Both him and Cat blinked as he looked around. 

 "Did anything happen?" Cat asked as Luka looked at the bracelet. He nodded the head of the snake was moving so he pushed it back. Both him and Cat blinked as he looked around. 

 "Did anything happen?" Cat asked, causing Luka to look at him.

 "You literally just asked me that,"

 "No, I didn't," 

 "You literally did then I pushed this back and you asked me again," He replied, pushing the head back. Both him and Cat blinked as he looked around. 

 "Did anything happen?" Cat asked, causing Luka to look at him again.

 "Dude, why are you asking me that again?"

 "I haven't asked you that before..."

 "You asked twice," He replied before his mind clicked. "Ooh... I see... everytime I push back this,"

 He pointed to the head of the snake that was slowly moving.

 "It resets time but only I remember," 

 "That's it?" Cat gasped, a little disappointed but the girl seemed impressed.

 "That is useful," She smiled, making Luka smile too.

 "Ok! My turn!" Cat grinned. "Cataclysm!"

 His hand became covered in a dark energy and he grinned excitedly before turning to them,

 "I can destroy anything I touch," He declared before touching the lamppost, destroying it before facing Stoneheart. "It's just you and me now! Time to rumble, soon to be rubble!"

 "Cat Noir! Wait!" She cried out as he ran towards the villain. He jumped and slammed his hand down but nothing happened. He placed his hand on again before grinning up at it. 

 "I guess I only had one shot at my power," He gasped before getting kicked back before looking at Luka. "Mind resetting?"

 He nodded and went to but she stopped him.

 "No," She stated, causing both of them to look at her. "You won't learn that way and you only have five minutes before you turn back. Didn't your kwami explain anything?"

 "I guess I got a little overexcited about my new life!" He grinned, causing Bug girl to roll her eyes and Luka to smile a little before she turned and faced the creature.

 "Well, up to me," She mumbled, throwing up her yoyo. "Lucky charm!"

 A diver suit appeared out of thin air and she caught, getting an odd look of both Viperion and Cat Noir.

 "Superpower?"

 "My Kwami told me I have to break the object which the what-cha-ma-call it..."

 "Akuma?" Viperion asked, making her nod.

 "Yeah.. where the akuma is hiding,"

 "Well, he's made from stone," Cat Noir pointed out, making her gasp.

 "His right hand..." She mumbled, pointing to it. "It's closed,"

 "He's never opened it," Viperion points out. "He caught both me and kitty cat with his left,"

 "It's like the russian dolls," She mumbled. "The object isn't on him. It's hidden in his fist,"

 "So what's your plan?" Cat Noir asked as she looked around. She smiled and pointed to the suit.

 "This," She replied, grabbing a hose pipe. "Viperion, I need you over there. When I say, turn on the tap,"

 "Right!" He replied, running over as she wrapped her yoyo around Cat's feet.

 "Don't resist and trust me," She declared, swinging him around and throwing him at Stoneheart, who caught him before she jumped at him with the diving suit at hand. "Catch me if you can!"

 He open his fist and caught her.

 "Viperion! Now!" She shouted, causing him to turn on the tap, which in turn filled up the suit and forced Stoneheart to open his fist again, freeing her. She jumped down and stamped on a purple rock, breaking it and freeing a little butterfly. Stoneheart turned back into a normal kid as Viperion switched off the tap and walked over as Cat Noir got up.

 "That was amazing!" He gasped. "You were both amazing!"

 "Um... thanks..." She mumbled as Cat's ring beeped. "You better go. Our identities must remain a secret,"

 "I should go too," Luka replied as Alya rushed over with her camera. "I hope we meet again soon, you two,"

 With that, he jumped out of the stadium and headed home. Just as he reached the boat, the transformation dropped and he caught Sass in his hand, who looked tired.

 "Are you ok?" He asked.

 "I need food," He mumbled as he curled up in Luka's hands. Luka nodded and entered the boat before placing Sass on the side and looking in the cupboard. "Do you have cake?"

 "I thought you were a snake. Don't snake eat mice?"

 "Bleh. I like cake," He mumbled, causing Luka to laugh softly before he took out a fairy cake. He gave it to Sass as the news showed him and the other two fighting off Stoneheart.

 "Ladybug. Call me Ladybug," 

 "Ladybug?" He questioned before smiling. "It suits her,"

 He began to make his food but the news suddenly took another negative turn.

 "Just as Paris is about to celebrate it's new heroes, panic ensures again as people are been turned into Stonebeings. No one is sure if what will happen. Will these creatures come to life or be stuck in time forever?"

 "What?!" He gasped, looking over in shock. "But we defeated Stoneheart?!"

 "Did Ladybug capture the akuma?"

 "Um... she broke the object and a purple butterfly flew off,"

 "So that's a no then," Sass replied, eating the cake. "The butterfly is an akuma. They must be captured or it multiplies itself and this happens. If Ivan becomes Stoneheart again, all those stonebeings will awake and become his army,"

 "Oh god. How do we stop that?"

 "Find the akuma and capture it,"

 "How do I do that though?"

 "Only Ladybug can purify and restore Stoneheart and the damage he's done,"

 "Oh... so me and cat just help her?"

 "Yup," 

 "Wonderful... when do we go after Stoneheart?"

 "We'll have to wait for him to return,"

 "Great,"

[things2mustdo]

Last year I gave up my Krav Maga self-defense training when I was in the middle of changing jobs. I never picked it back up.

While I stay quite busy splitting my time between my three main sources of income, last month I began to feel like something was missing. I was getting too comfortable with my daily routine– bored, too.

So I decided to start training in martial arts again, this time signing up for a Muay Thai gym. It’s already reinvigorated my sense of drive across other areas of my life. Here are the top 5 reasons you should start a new hobby today.

1. It breaks up your current routine

As humans we search for a sense of regularity. We often find it in our daily activities.

For example, my days typically consist of working from home in the morning, primarily on my computer, lifting weights, and then training a few clients in the late afternoon and evening. I enjoy this routine, but flying on autopilot has its dangers.

You aren’t as sharp. Everything is too calculated and expected. By training  in Muay Thai every other day I have something new to look forward to. It also has changed my lifting routine, to accommodate for the added exercise and fatigue.

2. It pushes you outside of your comfort zone

When I stepped into the Muay Thai gym for the first time I didn’t know what to expect. It was a lot different than the place I used to train Krav Maga at– more serious, less friendly even.

The seasoned fighters looked at me with a sense of superiority. And they were superior. But rather than backing down, being nervous, and quitting after one day– I took this as a challenge.

I was far from comfortable training that day. I wasn’t able to execute crisp Thai kicks or jump rope like a boss.  But being too comfortable can be a bad thing. You’ll cease to explore new opportunities and your growth with falter across the board.

By throwing yourself at something new, that you’re inexperienced at, you’ll be pushed outside of your comfort zone. This is a good thing. You must stay accustomed to living at the edge of your comfort zone to ensure steady growth and progress.

3. You’ll learn new skills

This point is obvious. By taking Muay Thai, I’ll learn a host of new fighting skills.

4. It gives you a new area to set goals for

The habit of setting and achieving goals is the most important habit a man can build. By entering into a new hobby, you now have a whole new area of your life that where you can practice setting and accomplishing goals.

For my Muay Thai experience I’ll start small. My first goal is to be able to execute a Thai kick with my left and have it feel as natural as with my right. I’ll work my way up to bigger goals as I improve.

This is the beauty of starting at something from scratch. At first you’ll set one small goal after another. This cycle will build momentum, and before you know it, you’ll no longer be a novice. More importantly, this momentum will carry over to other areas of your life and give you the confidence to crush more and bigger goals.

5. You’ll meet new people

Another obvious point. When you try something new, you’re bound to meet new people. Whether these turn out to be man friends or cute girls depends on the hobby you choose, but either way meeting new people is always a positive thing.

Potential Hobbies

I’ll leave you with a short list of potential hobbies for you to try today:

1. Martial arts/self-defense: Muay Thai, Brazilian Ju-Jitsu, Krav Maga 2. Cooking 3. Salsa Dancing 4. Lifting weights (you should already be doing this) 5. Yoga 6. Writing 7. Mountain Biking

Check out my new #1 Amazon Bestseller, The Book of Alpha. It’s full of direct, actionable advice for the man who wants to better himself.

Read Next: 5 Reasons To Learn Krav Maga

Krav Maga is a self-defense system created based upon the street fighting skills of Hungarian-Israeli martial artist Imi Lichtenfeld. He used it to defend the Jewish quarter where he lived against fascist groups in the 1930s. Later, in the 40s he moved to Israel and began to offer combat training lessons to what later became the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces). The IDF has used, and continued to develop the system to this day.

The basic principle of Krav Maga is inflicting maximum damage to the opponent(s) in order to end the fight as quickly as possible. Brutal counter-attacks using your most effective tool (knees, elbows, weapons, etc.) to target your opponent’s weakest area (neck, throat, eyes, knees, ribs, solar plexus, groin, etc.) are the focus. For this reason, it is not a competitive martial arts, like Brazilian Ju-Jitsu or Muay Thai, because people would die.

When I heard that Jason Bourne uses Krav Maga (which I later found out was, in fact, not true) and that it teach gun defenses (i.e. the most alpha technique ever), I immediately signed up. I just finished 6 months of training. It is indeed awesome. Here are the top 5 reasons you should sign up for classes today:

1. You will become a badass.

Nothing boosts confidence and testosterone levels like knowing you are legitimately prepared for whatever. Very few people have any formal self-defense or fight training. As a result, in tense situations where most people lose it, you will keep your cool. If something ever does go down, you’re ready.

2. It is practical and intuitive.

Most martial arts are strongly based in ritual, and as a result often incorporate different forms or strange techniques. Krav is different. Brutal efficiency is the only concern. For this reason, many of the strikes and defenses utilize the same basic motion (e.g. the straight punch and many of the defenses against punches and knives). Moreover, all of the techniques are built upon the body’s natural instincts (e.g. bringing your hands to your neck during a choke defense).

3. It is great exercise.

Between the drills themselves and the conditioning, you are guaranteed a hell of a workout. Three minutes of throwing punches or knee strikes is exhausting. So is three minutes of burpees. Side note: The level 1 Krav test was the single most intense physical event of my life. Seriously. Three hours straight of punches, kicks, choke defenses, and groundwork is no joke. I consider myself to be is great shape and I almost vomited on multiple occasions.

4. It relieves stress.

Sure, so do most workouts, but pounding a kicking shield, or throwing your partner to the floor is a whole different ball game.

5. It is the perfect hobby.

I came to my first class with no idea how to throw a proper punch. After a couple weeks I thought I was Jason Bourne. After a couple months I realized that I wasn’t. After 6 months I look back and I am amazed at the progress I made. Experiencing this progress is extremely satisfying.

Clearly taking up Krav Maga has many benefits. One word of caution – make sure you train somewhere with certified, experienced instructors. I have seen locations that turn it into a strictly cardio exercise experience, with little focus on technique – not good. So go take advantage of that free first class, now.

Check out my new #1 Amazon Bestseller, The Book of Alpha. It’s full of direct, actionable advice for the man who wants to better himself.

Read More: The Only 2 Things A Man Can Depend On

I was born alone and I will die alone. I’ve got to do what’s right for me and not live my life the way anybody else wants it.

– Curtis Jackson

If life were a board game, you’d be the game piece.

In reality, life isn’t much different from a game. There isn’t a defined end goal, however. You get to choose it. It could be power and respect. It could simply be happiness. Or it could be more specific: money or women, for example. Whatever it is, you choose.

In a board game there are strict limitations. In life, we’re encouraged to follow laws and social norms, but for the most part we’re free to do as we choose. There are infinite paths that will take you to any goal imaginable.

Along the way you’ll deal with many people. Some will help you, others won’t. You can grow to depend on the ones that help you, but that always incurs a risk. A family member can die. A close friend can betray you. Your girl can leave you. How will you react when one of these things happens?

Playing with others is a necessary part of the game. But never depend on them. Doing so will ultimately lead to failure and disappointment.

Accept that the only two things you can ever count on are your body and your mind– your game piece. You must tend to these things like a gardener tends to his plants. Focus on improving them and facilitating their health and growth and you’ll always put yourself in the best position to win.

If some tragedy befalls a dependent man, he may sink into depression. He might feel like he’s lost all hope of accomplishing his mission in life. He might give up.

A truly independant man, however, will not. He’s prepared, on some level, for each of these tragedies. He doesn’t have a specific game plan for when his best friend betrays him, per se. But he’s put himself in a good position, both physically and mentally, that he can weather the storm. Not only can he weather the storm, but he can keep his cool and make the fine adjustments needed to get the ship back on course.

Below I’ll offer the basic tasks one must do to protect his game piece, and see it thrive.

1. Your Body

If you take care of your body, it will be strong and healthy. It will also help foster a potent mind. Yes, there’s always the rare risk of contracting some form of cancer or another deadly disease, but if you follow the steps below, you all but rule these things out.

1. Eat good food

I won’t go into specifics, because everyone’s diet will, and should, be different.

But if you focus your diet around meat, fruits, and vegetables your body will flourish. Meat provides the protein and amino acids your body needs to grow. The fruits and vegetables provide the fiber and vitamins you need to function over the long run. A man with a solid diet will respond better to stress, and therefore be more self reliant.

2. Lift weights

In short, lifting weights develops a strong nervous, muscular, and skeletal system. These are the three main systems that run your body. An efficient body is like a strong ship– it will weather the storm better and be far more dependable in your journey.

The most brutally simple and effective lifting program is StrongLifts 5×5. It focuses on building strength across the five most basic movements humans are meant to do (squat, deadlift,  bench press, row, and overhead press).

2. Your Mind

You must also foster a capable mind. One that can stand on it’s own two feet. The strongest body won’t accomplish anything without an equally impressive mind.

1. Read books

Reading a book is like absorbing another man’s lifelong wisdom. The more books you read, the more you’ll know and the wiser you’ll be. Blogs are okay, but the average quality of a blog post is decidedly lower than what you find in a book. People simply put more time, effort, and value into books.

The knowledge you acquire in books also contributes to your self reliance. It offers quality wisdom and advice– that can’t be taken away from you.

2. Meditate

Meditation is the act of being comfortable being alone. When you meditate, you remove all of the outside noise. All of the thoughts, gossip, music, news, women, men, business, sex– everything. You are left with only yourself.

Many men can’t stand meditation because they’ve grown dependant on all of this external stimulation. They aren’t comfortable in their own skin. And thus they’ve lost their edge, their self reliance.