#i understand its not the cats fault they were a stray

[rxttenfish]

i think we do need to talk about how neglecting cats is seen as just a normal way to take care of them.

i wont lie, i kinda feel the same way about "cat distribution system" as i do about jokes about hamsters dying in horrific ways.

[a-reverii]

▸ A FAITHFUL COMPANION⌇sirius black.

› pairing ━ ꒰ dark!sirius black x muggle!reader ꒱

› in which ━ ꒰ a black dog seems to keep you company wherever you go. ꒱

› content warning + notes ━ ꒰ stalking ; obsessive tendencies ; swearing ; breaking & entering ; violence & blood ; degradation (not specifically sexual) ; allusions to kidnapping ; reader is in college/university ; etc. i felt like sirius would totally use his animagus abilities to his advantage (if he was a yandere), so here is this fic. ꒱

› word count ━ ꒰ 2 . 8k ꒱

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A BLACK DOG.

That was the first thing your eyes laid upon when you exited the decrepit old vehicle that was the bus that took you to and from your college. A single, average-sized, black dog.

You'd always had a certain fondness for animals. From infancy to adulthood, this was a fact that didn't change. Cats, bunnies, birds, dogs ━ it didn't matter the kind. All that mattered is that you could pet it. You'd since, of course, learned that not all pets or animals were one for such forms of affection, but you nevertheless adored them all the same.

You didn't think much of the dog after you began making your way back to your home, only really took notice of it when you caught it in the corner of your eye, trailing behind you by a few meters. Were it not for the late hour or the fact that you were walking on your own, you may not have been so paranoid as to look behind you every once in a while, and, by extension, notice the animal, but you were glad you did.

You slowed down, and so did the dog. Strange, you thought, but you supposed animals were simply like that. You then continued, and noticed that it too resumed its leisure pace.

So, making the decision to act off of impulse, you paused your walking once again, before turning around and squatting down, offering the creature a friendly demeanor. The dog seemed to understand your openness, as it then approached, smelling the fist you extended towards it and allowing you to give it a good scratch behind the ears.

It was, most likely, very unsanitary of you do do this ━ the animal could have had all sorts of diseases or aggressive tendencies, but you'd always loved animals to a fault, so you decided to take the risk.

The dog's fur was remarkably soft, you realized, as you brushed your fingers against it. Much softer than that of a wild dog would be, or a stray, at the very least. Perhaps the animal was lost.

"Hey, little guy. Do you know where your home is?"

The dog, of course, did not respond, but you let out a small chuckle as it leaned into your touch and even went so far as to try to lick your face. This, you tried to avoid, wanting to maintain some level of safety and cleanliness, but the animal managed to give you one good kiss after numerous attempts.

"You're an affectionate one, aren't you?" You murmured under your breath, shaking your head. "Well, you're cute, but I'm going to have to head back home. Hope you find yours, buddy."

You gave the dog an affectionate few pats on the head before standing up fully and resuming your walk, not aware of the fact of the figure that then trailed behind you carefully, now hidden by a veil of darkness.

* * *

The next time you saw the dog, exiting the bus as you always did, you felt an eerie sense of deja vu pass over you.

That was, of course, until you realized that this very situation had occurred only the day prior. Still, it almost unnerved you ━ the way the animal sat so perfectly still. Were it not for the occasional breeze that brushed its fur in an almost imperceptible manner, you would have been sure it was a statue.

"A creature of habit, huh?" You mused as you stared at the animal in some attempt to soothe the odd feeling that was growing in your stomach.

The dog followed you, closer this time, and you didn't bother it. Despite the irregular nature of the whole ordeal, you supposed that if this dog was at your side, it would hopefully ward off any unwanted interactions with strangers or people with malicious intent. You never knew the true intention of people these days.

And so, days passed on like this, and a sort of companionship blossomed. The dog would appear in the same place at the very same time every day, and it would accompany you on your walk home. And, although your were originally slightly apprehensive towards the animal, you grew a quick liking to it. Its presence made you feel safer during what once were your lonesome walks home, and the animal itself was rather friendly.

It never seemed to follow you to your doorstep, however, always disappearing the moment before your house became visible. And, in a sense, for this you were glad. You'd most likely feel too guilty to deny the animal shelter if it pleaded with you on your doorstep for such, even though you hadn't the money or the space for it. So, for now, the brief but frequent walks were sufficient.

* * *

You sat in the large, imposing library of your college, chewing on the edge of your pen as a matter of habit. Before you on the table sat several pages of lined paper, the likes of which you were supposed to have an essay written upon in no less than a week.

"Shit."

You cursed perhaps too loudly, as a few heads turned your way, though no one made any comment as to reprimand you. It was rather unfortunate that every word seemed to echo ━ that every sound seemed to reverberate in the large building. The walls were high and the ceiling curved into a sort of arc, though as beautiful as it was, the architecture seemed to be the main cause of this. It made everyone inside of the library keenly aware of every word uttered ━ every sound made.

It was as a result of this that you'd been struggling for the past hour or so to write down so much as a single sentence. You'd gone to the library to have some peace and quiet, but you seemed to have neither.

Your eyes darted about the room, looking for something to focus on, something to ground you. The rain ━ yes, that would be it. Your eyes wandered over to the large window that occupied the wall beside you, and you did your very best to pay attention to the pitter-patter of the raindrops. You'd always found a certain calmness accompanied the rain.

It was, then, by watching the window so very intently that you spotted a black figure in the distance, unmoving amongst the chaos that was the rainstorm. In some attempt to discern what it was that stood there, you leaned forward in your seat ━ not that it was of much help, of course ━ and squinted your eyes.

It was a dog, you realized.

A black one, you suspected, though you couldn't be very sure as the fog and rain distorted its color, but of this much you were certain: it was a dog, and it was staring right at you, sitting perfectly still.

Instantly, you imagined it must have been the black dog that so often followed you, but you quickly realized that the distance from your college to the bus stop was too considerable a trudge, so you concluded it must have been a different mutt that had found itself upon the grounds of your beloved college.

Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that it looked so hauntingly familiar.

When the rain finally cleared up, the dog was gone, and you wondered if it was a trick of the light, or an image your own mind had conjured up. It was of no importance, however, you quickly reminded yourself, as you remembered the papers in front of you. Work, they seemed to whisper. Write something. And yet you couldn't seem to get the image of that dog out of your mind.

When you took the bus back home, having wasted an entire afternoon, the black dog was there to greet you, and you let it.

And so, days passed, and eventually weeks, and eventually months. And with the time, the black dog ━ the name of which you still did not know in spite of the amount of time you'd spent with it ━ became a familiar presence, one that seemed to follow you in the most peculiar of places ━ from your bus station to the outside of your bedroom window to perhaps, even, following you inside of your college campus.

Of course, some of the times you'd seen the dog you were sure were figments of your imagination, but you found it odd all the same ━ how this one dog seemed to infiltrate your mind so powerfully. You loved animals, yes, but you'd never realized to what extent ━ and you surely never expected that your mind would conjure up this creature everywhere you went. You'd certainly never expected to begin hallucinating the poor thing.

After yet another long day of schoolwork, you stepped off of your bus, your eyes almost immediately searching for that black dog that had so quickly became your partner ━ one you never found. Your eyes narrowed as you scrutinized the landscape before you, which now seemed barren without the creature.

It felt strange now, walking home completely alone, but you supposed that the dog may have found its home or had wandered off to somewhere new, and for this you could not be mad. You could only hope that the creature was now safe, wherever it was.

You let out a soft sigh as you felt the hardwood floor of your home underneath you and swung the door shut behind you, collapsing on your small couch. Your legs ached from the walk from the bus ━ one that was always far too long for your liking. You desperately wished that it could simply drop you off to your front door, but, alas, you were a struggling college student, and such luxuries were not ones you could afford.

After spending what you thought of as a considerable amount of time resting, you stood up with the intention to heat up some food ━ leftovers, most likely, as you'd hardly eaten all day. On your path to do so, however, you felt your stomach sink upon noticing a man in your kitchen, his back to you as he stared at an object you could not yet discern.

You stood, paralyzed for all but a moment, though it didn't take long for him to sense your presence, and to turn around, a devilish grin painting his features.

The man seemed to be about your age, perhaps slightly older, with long, dark hair, brilliant blue eyes and rather distinct look about him. You did not know how or why, but instantly you knew that he was no normal man ━ not in the slightest. Something was off about him, something equal parts alluring and eerie.

"Who are you?" Your words came out in a rather weak manner, and you wanted to hit yourself for sounding so vulnerable in front of this most likely dangerous stranger who had, for some reason, broken into your house. You weren't quite sure why he was here, of course ━ you didn't have anything of real value stored away in your home.

The man in question titled his head at you, as if observing your expression, before returning his gaze to the object in his hand ━ a picture frame, you realized. One you'd placed on the counter with the intent of moving long ago, though you'd never really had the time or put in the effort to do so.

"You muggles and your silly questions. Why does it matter who I am? If I were you, I'd be asking why I'm here."

Your brows furrowed at his words. Muggles? What on earth were those?

"Why ━ why are you here?"

At the question, the man's smile only seemed to grow. He did not reply, however, instead opting to continue staring at the picture in his hands.

"I don't know why you chose to live in such filth. I've never seen a wizard occupying such a small, dirty home. Tell me, Y/n ━ do you wish for your life to change?"

Wizard. The word rang in your ears, loud and clear. This was a madman you were speaking to, surely. What was he on about?

And ━ moreover, how did he know your name?

"I... wha..?" The more questions you had, the more they seemed to impede your question-asking abilities. You could hardly get a word out.

"I could buy you a much better home than this. Much bigger, cleaner. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Something luxurious."

His words were confusing. A house? Why would he buy a house? You felt as though you were lacking some crucial piece of information.

"Why are you here? Please, just ━ you can take anything you want. Just ━ please, leave," you finally managed to say.

The man raised an eyebrow, his head raising to stare at you. He looked almost amused. "Excuse me?"

"Please ━ please leave. Or I'll ━ I'll call the police."

"The police? What are those?"

Your brows furrowed. "I'm not ━ this isn't a joke. I'll have you fucking arrested ━ I'll do it if you don't... Just, get out of my home."

"No need for such harsh words, love. And we needn't escalate this so quickly. I don't plan on harming you."

"Then why are you here?"

Once again, that devilish smirk returned, but this time with a response to your question. "To take you to somewhere... better."

"Who are you?" Your mind was now buzzing, but you wanted answers. This man seemed to know something about you, and you wanted ━ needed to know what, a need that seemed to transcend your practical thoughts. You should have already called the police by now.

"Sirius Black."

"How do you know who I am?"

The man ━ Sirius, took a step forward, and you in turn took a step back. He then frowned.

"You muggles aren't very bright, are you? Or is that just you?"

"What?"

"I've known who you are for a long time now, Y/n. I've been... watching you. Up close and from afar. I suppose you could say you've caught my eye."

"What do you want from me?"

"Want?" Sirius echoed. "I do not want anything from you, my dear. What I want is to help you, is all. Now, whether you accept that help or not is entirely up to you."

"And... if I don't?"

"Then I'll simply have to see to it that you do."

You tried to control your breathing, which had grown increasingly erratic from his cryptic responses. Your eyes darted about your kitchen until finally you spotted your telephone, on the right wall, behind Sirius.

Shit.

He seemed to pick up on what you were doing as his eyes followed your line of sight. "I wouldn't do anything if I were you. It'll be easier for both you and I if you cooperate."

You bit the inside of your cheek. You had to try. Your eyes searched for something to use ━ a weapon of sorts. It found no other than a plant vase that sat on the counter, but within reach. Unconventional, you supposed, but you didn't have many other options.

In a single, ragged motion, you ran towards Sirius before hitting his head with the vase and ━ to your partial surprise (you hadn't swung with very much force) ━ shattering it completely. You tried not to pay mind to the stinging on your hand or the small but numerous shards that had embedded themselves into your arm as you ran towards the phone. Your hands trembled as you tried to tap the numbers 9-1-1, but just as your finger brushed against final one, a harsh force pushed you against the ground.

Sirius loomed above your now bloodied form, a dangerous expression on his face. His eyes were wide with the kind of paranoia that made your heart skip a beat. He looked beastly ━ almost animal-like as he bent down, hovering only inches above you.

"See what happens when you don't cooperate? Look at the mess you made. I was going to be nice. But now look at what you've done ━ " You shivered as his hands came to caress your cheeks, softly at first, before then digging into your skin with his unnaturally sharp nails. You bit back a whimper.

"Yes ━ nice, I was going to be very nice. But you've ruined it all, you stupid muggle. But that's fine. Your cooperation isn't needed. I only hoped for it."

He then took out an oddly shaped wooden stick ━ or something of that sort from his pocket. Sirius smiled wildly, as a predator would upon catching their prey.

"Sweet dreams, my dear. I suppose we can only hope you are ready for what comes next."

And then, everything went dark.

[leweebdepoche]

Day 23 : Fly

Gray and Eugene came out of the clinic, a cat box in Eugene's hand. Gray bent down and looked through the wire mesh to make sure the little black cat was okay. It was huddled at the bottom of the cage, its orange eyes wide open. He meowed as Gary's head appeared in his field of vision.

"Well, we've got a cat on our hands now..." Eugene said a little disappointed.

"Eugene, it's not his fault he's a stray and he got hurt," Gray scolded him.

"Oh, I don't blame him at all! It's just that it's not going to be easy to take care of him alternately until he's completely healed. What a pity my aunt doesn't have more room in her clinic!" replied Eugene, who bit his tongue for forgetting that Gray didn't tolerate any deviation, even of language, towards animals.

Gray sat up. He, too, was very concerned about their protégé's situation.

"And on top of that, the smartass escaped to go crazy outside, and came back with his wound completely reopened..."

The two friends sighed together. Life was not easy for hypersensitive people like them! They started walking again when they came across Gerard coming back from his part-time job.

"Gerard! Are you going home?" Eugene asked when he saw him.

"Yep. I'm done for the day," he replied. "And you? What are you carrying around in that box?"

He leaned over to look in the box in question in turn.

"A stray cat that was injured and was taken to my aunt's house for treatment.

Gerard met the feline's gaze and he feinted as the green head obstructed his only source of light.

"And what are you going to do with him? He doesn't seem to be completely healed..." he inquired, straightening up.

"Eugene's aunt didn't have room to keep him in her clinic so we decided to take turns keeping him until he could return to his neighborhood," Gray replied.

Gerard seemed to think for a moment. The two boys looked at him in amazement. Then he finally made up his mind.

"Give him to me, I can keep him at home," said the tall, green-haired man. "You can't keep it too long because of your parents, can you? I won't mind, I can take care of him while he recovers.

Eugene and Gray exchanged a surprised look. They had not expected Gerard to show an interest in animals.

"Are you a cat person, Gerard?" Eugene asked, too curious to hold back his questions.

"I love cats, but they don't really like me in general," he confessed.

Eugene and Gray nodded together. It made sense. Gerard and the animals was a picture that seemed too unrealistic to be plausible. Eugene handed him the box with a smile.

"In that case, we'll leave it to your good care!"

Gray nodded. Gerard smiled and picked up the small grey crate in which the survivor lay. It feigned and meowed when it saw that it had changed owners.

"You see, he already doesn't like me," Gerard mourned.

The two friends laughed when they saw the big guy's discomfited expression. It was going to be good living together!

"Where are Ben and Alex?" Gray asked as they quietly walked back to their respective houses.

"Oh, they're busy with something very important apparently," Gerard replied disinterestedly. "At least that's what they told me when I left them at school."

"Oh yeah?" questioned Eugene who was suddenly curious.

"Yes, they were talking about something like flying football? Something that's played without feet, if I understood correctly," the singer tried to remember.

"Ah, they are experimenting with sports at the moment! I think Ben told me about it. I didn't understand it all but, well, I don't know if it's a great idea to test air sports... what if they get hurt?"

Gerard shrugged.

"We take them to the hospital, I suppose?

Eugene nodded thoughtfully. His friend was probably right. With that, their figures disappeared in the light of the setting sun that bathed the street, still full of cars despite the late hour. The day was coming to an end and the moon was going to chase the sun to reign over the silent world of the night where life was quietly fading away in anticipation of a new day that was sure to arrive with the return of the morning sun. 

[aficionadoenthusiast]

adding some more cause everything is shit rn

pjo

all canon ships + valgrace i believe

Hot People Eat at Dairy Queen by itsmrlol; T; 84k; i read a lot of chat fics so i cannot remember if this is the one that had me pissing myself laughing or if it's just average funny but either way it's funny

[us🤝being literal gods] [Sparky re-named the group "nico is a gay disaster; send help"] 12:36am Ghostboy: i beg ur pardon???? Nutella: SPEAK ON IT‼️‼️‼️

mist you already by starrey_night; T, 1-10k; social media/chat fic; fucking hilarious

After the Mist mysteriously disappears, the world of Greek mythology is exposed, and the response is … just as you expected. A story told through social media

Baby Blofis College Fund by zipadeea; T; 3k; hilarious and made me feel very connected to Sally

Valerie calls her an hour later. “Sally, what the hell?” “That bad, huh?” “Bad? Sally, it’s gold. I went from squirming in my seat to crying genuine tears. And that twist, making him a Greek god, it’s exactly what we’re looking for right now. How soon can you get me the next chapter?” *** In which Sally Jackson realizes by the time the new baby is eighteen, a semester of college will cost an arm and a leg. And those Fifty Shades of Grey books sure did make a lot of money.

percy jackson and the scrutiny of his coworkers by pqrker; G; 6k; nosy mortals is such an old but fun trope in this fandom, and this one does it really well

Jim turned back to the tank and looked at Marcie the seal, who was now staring at the spot his coworker had been standing just moments before with that same strange look of reverence in her eyes. Percy Jackson truly was the oddest person Jim Elpool had ever worked with. or 5 times percy's coworkers were confounded by his fish magic, plus 1 time they try to figure it out

Daddy Issues Inc by Librarian_Alexandria; T; 10k; THIS ONE! IS THE ONE THAT WAS SO FUNNY! YAY!

Piper changes the GC name to Daddy Issues Inc, which has little to no influence over anything, and what follows is completely unrelated. Jason introduces his fellow university freshmen to his boarding school friends, also attending Olympus University, throwing Reyna and Piper, equally oblivious and disastrous, together. but not like, together-together yet anyway its a texting fic about our favs at uni and they're chaotic and this was fun to write

mcu

Tony Stark: Appliance Whisperer by Alex51324; Avengers; T; 12k; Tony just has a way with electronics

After Tony over-reacts to some SHIELD agents breaking a microwave oven, Steve begins to wonder if there's something the team should know.

you're my cherry pie by novembersmith; Venom; E; 12k; Venom learns about human reproduction and sex. There is a powerpoint presentation.

The first time Eddie suggests they have sex, Venom is, more than anything, extremely confused.

Operation Cat Whisperer by cookies5098; Spider-man; G; 5k; poor Peter is terrorized by cats. (not as heavy on the irondad trope as the summary and tags make it sound)

Peter and the cats of New York have an understanding: he helps them down from trees and tall buildings, and in return, they ignore his spider-like traits that trigger their hunter instincts. So, he honestly thinks he'll be fine when visiting Greece, one of the stray cat capitals of the world. But he's wrong. He's so fucking wrong. Feat. Peter being a walking catastrophe—thank goodness for MJ and Ned—Morgan being a juice pops fiend, and Tony being a good dad to them both.

How To Pay For Rent 💸 by fictionfeast; poolverine; E; 42k; i've read so many poolverine fics since dp&w came out, and i can confirm, this is one of the good ones

To pay for rent, Logan and Wade take odd jobs on Craigslist.

teenage wasteland by swirlees; Spider-Man; T; 10k; the AcaDec team fucking with the FBI

He doesn't set out to be a terrorist. It just...happens. And he's not even really a terrorist. He totally recognizes that it's his fault the Chitauri core ends up on the Washington Monument, but he's not trying to cause terror, ergo, not a terrorist. Just, an accident-ist. In which Spider-Man's journey into superhero-ship leads him to the accidental terrorism that sometimes comes with it, and (if you asked him) the A+ recovery he makes, featuring big brother Deadpool, an absolutely fed up group of FBI goons, mildly entertained Daredevil and Mr. Nelson, and a weirdly very supportive, kind of terrifying GenZ AcaDec crew.

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail by MusingsOnBuckyBarnes, owlet; stucky and other avengers; M; 100-300k; I believe this one is pretty famous in the stucky and mcu fandoms, but in case you haven't read it, read it. it's hilarious, angsty, and amazing. steve and bucky's characterizations are great. this is probably the best bucky recovery fic i've read.

The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect.

trc

Sold by flightspath; pynch; E; 7.5k; idk what to say for this. the summary speaks for itself

"Eight thousand," Ronan announced. Professor Kellogg laughed unkindly. "Young man, it seems you’re confused. You’ve only re-drawn the paddle number." "Whatever, that's my bid. Eight thousand.” Another wave of whispers and gasps rippled through the room. “I'm a mechanical engineering enthusiast." He turned to address his tablemates. "But a high school dropout,” he added in a stage whisper, as if they’d asked, “so I need a tutor." He looked back up at Professor Kellogg. "I’m stupid but rich, basically.” --- In which a date with Adam is up for auction, and things go from bad to Pynch real quick

cluck cluck, motherf- by andrealyn; minor pynch; T; 3k; great look at adam and declan's relationship

What's worse than getting sick while your significant other is away? Getting sick when your stubborn future in-law is home at the Barns with you and won't admit that they're sick too. Is stubborn pride worth suffering in silence and refusing to admit that you're worse for the wear? If it means losing a game of sick chicken, then for both Adam and Declan, it is.

Surfin' On A Sound Wave, Swingin' Through The Stars by clotpolesonly; bluesey & pynch; T; 2k; I just reread this and cried

Ronan kicked the tires of a rusty Buick and turned to look Gansey up and down. “What are you supposed to be, anyway? An aspiring yacht captain who misplaced his yacht?” Gansey leveled him with an unimpressed look. “These are just my regular clothes and you know it.” He ignored Ronan’s unrepentant sniggering in favor of checking Blue’s text again. “Jane said she has a couple’s costume planned for us but wouldn’t tell me what it is, only that I should just come to the party in my favorite outfit.” “Maybe she’ll be in bright-ass green and you can be highlighters together.” “Ha very ha.

JessJesstheBest also has very funny trc fics

hi! i also love comedy! any chance we could get some more funny fic recs?

yes, absolutely!

pjo

sorry, don't have a ton of these, I tend to read more serious fics for this fandom

keeping it fruity by buoyantsaturn; valgrace, T, 4k; Leo is both so relatable and so silly, I love it

Leo huffed. “Sorry, I just don’t think I can support such senseless violence,” he grumbled, knowing that all of the excuses he and Nico had come up with over the last few years would be useless by that point. “What is a sport, really, if not an excuse to beat some stranger to a pulp?”

sex education by CordeliaRose; solangelo, E & M, 5-20k; I'm not normally a fan of smut, so if this one got me to read smut, you know it's good

Percy tries to give Nico a sex talk. It goes about as well as anyone could have predicted.

marvel

shelter order by deniigiq; team red, G, 46k; team red quarantine group chat fic, need I say more?

Little Spidey (Pink): Hello Twitter. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Spiderman has decided that we should share with you all our private chat. We will be doing so on the condition that y’all remain cool about it. You gonna be cool? (Peter decides to raise spirits of those in isolation by sharing parts of the Team Red chat online day by day.)

Fishing Isn’t Fair to the Fish by NezumiPi; defenders, T, 17k; I was not expecting this one to have so much humor. or an exorcism.

Spoilers for Defenders S1 and prior individual shows. In a magnificent display of poor judgment, Luke Cage invites the Defenders on an upstate fishing trip in they can get to know one another better and perhaps smooth over some minor interpersonal conflicts. Contains (in no particular order): Minor interpersonal conflicts, major interpersonal conflicts, moderate impersonal conflicts, Danny Rand’s undergarments, porn for the blind, misuse of pharmaceuticals, talking swans, occasional fishing, and some seriously unpleasant business.

Mr. Stark's Home for Idiot Teenagers by OffToNewPastures; Iron family, T, 98k; tbh it's been so long since I read this one that I don't remember what it's about, but I have it marked as funny, so here you go

Peter is there, slumped over the kitchen island, slowly cramming spoonfuls of Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp into his mouth, hair tousled and sticking up every which way, and Tony realizes with sudden clarity that he’s fighting a losing battle. Maybe not today, maybe he can put it off for a while, but someday he’s just going to have to give up and love this ridiculous kid. - In which Tony Stark learns object lessons about love, sacrifice, death, friendship, and parenthood; and makes his peace with the unfortunate reality that his penthouse will be crawling with asshole teenagers every weekend for the foreseeable future. Follows canon...loosely. Ahem.

Chaotic Peter by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so; Iron family, T, 15-20k; this one is hilarious and painful and gripping and so so beautiful, and it has a logical path to the Iron family trope that doesn't make me cringe. I stayed up to 5 am on a weekday reading it. No regrets. (My note on ao3: "Reread first story to laugh until you cry, reread second part to feel something," if anyone was doubting how I feel about this fic.)

"Is there a reason you're calling this late at night?" Tony asks, worried in spite of himself. "Tell me what's going on, kid." “Everything is one-hundred-percent fine,” Peter says. “Seriously, I've never been better. But I should let you know I have about thirty bricks of cocaine in my bedroom. Also, Karen won't let me turn off Instant Kill Mode. Also, Walmart discontinued my special razzleberry pink squeezy lemonade. Which isn't related to tonight's patrol, I'm just bummed about it.”  Or: The five times Instant Kill Mode is activated +1

Super Duper Side Effects by awesomesockes, whumphoarder; Avengers, T, 16k; most mcu fans probably recognize this one and know it's hilarious

The downside of an enhanced metabolism is that it renders most drugs completely ineffective. Captain America accepted this long ago as an occupational hazard. But after Peter sustains a serious injury in the line of duty and the doctors have no way to manage the pain, Steve decides to volunteer as a test subject for Bruce and Tony’s experimental super drug. However, the soldier ends up getting a little more than he bargained for. (Alternative title: Original Drug Tester: Steve Rogers)

Obligatory mention of the fic that caused this ask:

in technicolor by deniigiq; Marvel's various NYC vigilantes & Brett Mahoney, not rated (I'd give it a T), 120k; again. the observor pov gives the idea of wildlife being studied in their natural habitat, and it is so. fucking. funny.

Brett sighed and looked down at the folder in his hand. “Your name is Peter, right?” “Lawyer.” “Peter, we haven’t even started talking. Let’s just take a minute to ease up.” “Lawyer.” “Bud, we haven’t charged you with a crime. This is just talking.” “Law. Yer.” Goddamn. (Brett's encounters with Team Red/vigilantes and their weird fucking way of helping)

hp

Still Preoccupied... With 1979 by darkbluedark; drarry (+jily & wolfstar), T, 15-20k; pre drarry accidental time travel hanging onto their rivalry for convenience? hilarious.

It’s May 1979 and the Order has just apprehended a pair of mysterious wizards who look remarkably like a Potter and a Malfoy. Naturally, James Potter and Sirius Black are called in to identify the strangely familiar strangers and determine their backgrounds and loyalties. (This would be a lot easier if their captives weren’t convinced everyone they talk to is dead. It would also be easier if they didn’t spend half their bloody time bickering.)

sirius black and the "mystery girl" by tjmcharg; wolfstar, T, 29k; heteronormativity but for humor reasons

"You can't tell me who you're with?" Lily smiles at him hopefully. Sirius laughs. "Alright Evans, if you're so curious, I have a proposition for you" "We'll set up a little bet, you have until the end of the school year - so two months - to work out who I'm dating, or..." he pauses to think and with an evil smirk decides, "or you have to ask your crush out on a date."

pair of tossers with a cat by moonymoment; wolfstar, G, 10k; a cat nearly destroys them. in the middle of a war.

Something seemed to dawn on Remus then; something so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. He frowned and looked at Sirius quizzically. “What?” “Are you…” Remus began, gaping slightly, “jealous of the cat, Sirius?” Sirius looked down. “I’m not jealous of the cat.” “You’re jealous of the cat!” “I am not jealous of the bloody cat.” Remus finds a stray cat on the street and brings it in. Sirius is not impressed. Chaos ensues.

(fuck jkr. for those of you who don't know me.)

(if y'all have any especially funny fics you wanna share, i would not be opposed 👀) (especially marvel and pjo 👀👀)

[gaysimpsstuff]

Flightless Birds Chapter Three; Where Birds Belong

Chapter One Here

Chapter Two Here

Chapter Four Here

Chapter Five Here

Summary: After visiting Kouten in the hospital, Y/n gets more and more ‘gifts’ from their stalker. But what are they supposed to do when it gets to be too much? Make a huge mistake, that’s what.

Word Count: 2.4K Words

Warnings: cursing, intrusive thoughts, mentions of masturbation, unwanted sexual letters, threats, police officers, implied drugging

Other: the first half of this chapter was meant to be in the previous chapter, but since Tumblr is a bitch I couldn’t do that and it was pushed here. 

Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @cathy8taffy @1small-frogs @catcherisvibin @waffleareniceandfluffy @mandalorian-baby-bird @theblueslytherin @hawksadmirer @assassinslittlesister @deepcollectorphantom (lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the taglist)

Numb. 

Was that the right word to describe how you were feeling?

Your heart was hammering away in your chest, and your whole body felt light as a feather.

Your head was foggy, and you felt like the world beneath you was shifting, tumbling around like the tectonic plates of your life were slamming and crashing into each other.

When you arrived at home, there was another ‘gift’ waiting for you. You picked it up and brought it inside. You knew you should probably just ignore all the packages and throw them away, but you just couldn’t.

Why? Why must your curiosity be satiated like this?

Today, it was a teddy bear. A red string was wrapped around its neck. You sighed, setting it on the nightstand with the other ‘gifts.’ 

More and more gifts started to arrive over the next week and a half. Clothes you’d expressed interest in, small shiny things, key-chains, and a couple more dead animals. You were sick and tired of it, and you were stressed out of your mind.

You hadn’t slept in days, you were hardly eating, your weird stalker had started leaving notes talking about you. They knew things about you that they shouldn’t know, it was getting to be too much. You felt heavy and cotton-headed. 

Calls from unknown numbers appeared every day now, and most of them included you just saying ‘hello?’ Into the phone until the caller hung up.

You were so tired, and so freaked out. 

Paranoia flooded your mind about your stalker breaking into your house and hurting you. 

But you felt so selfish. All your stalker was doing was creeping you out. You hadn’t actually been hurt yet, however Kouten was in the fucking hospital! He had almost been killed and you were worried about a few creepy notes.

How much of a horrible person were you?

You had one comfort; him. 

Izanagi.

You’d been spending less and less time at your flat, and more time with Izanagi. You spent every other night at his house, and you’d gotten so used to sleeping in the same bed as him that you felt you couldn’t sleep without his gentle touches and soft breaths.

Everything about him calmed you, his gentle green eyes, the constellation of freckles on his cheeks, that one tooth in his mouth that was twisted to the left, the days when he forgot to do laundry and you had to fold his clothes, you loved it all.

Your feet hit the pavement too hard as you approached your home. The stray tabby cat of your neighborhood dashing away from your front door as you approached.

You looked down, exhausted.

There was a rectangle of white on your welcome mat, your name printed in the fancy kanji of your stalker’s handwriting.

You slowly lifted it off of the ground, entering your home. Everything was quiet…

Too quiet.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, flinching at the sound of the mattress creaking under your weight. Slowly, you peeled open the envelope, unfolding the letter. Your eyes scanned down the words, nervous.

Dear Y/n.

You’ve been getting all my presents, right? Gosh I do hope you enjoy them. I can’t believe I’m finally writing you a letter! It’s so exhilarating, you know? 

I’ve never felt like this before, ever. Nothing even came close. God Y/n, I’m so in love with you! Do you know? I’ve been courting you this whole time! We’re birds of a feather, both lazy as fuck but so vulnerable.

I wish I didn’t have to hurt Yuu like I did, but that little bitch had to die. Unfortunately he survived, how tragic.

You stopped reading looking up for a moment. You were right! Your stalker had been connected to Kouten’s attack! That… didn’t feel very nice. You thought you’d feel better about it, but now you just felt sick.

It was your fault Kouten was hurt.

I could understand he was close to you, I hated that. I would have gone for Fujikawa, but he’s surprisingly cautious. You’d think he’d be more reckless, being as fucking stupid as he is, but nooo. 

I’ll have mercy on him, I’m sure it’d just make you upset to see him dead anyways. But I swear, go near him again and I’ll kill him. 

I don’t wanna talk about that in my first real letter with you, so instead I’ll just talk about you.

How breathtaking you are.

How fucking gorgeous you are.

Y’know, you really are fucking amazing, you think I didn’t see? You really took the time to appreciate yourself yesterday, I think that was your way of saying you loved me back! Touching yourself… oh fuck you looked so hot.  Think I didn’t hear? I really wish I was there, fucking you the way you need. I’d give you everything you’ll ever need. You won’t need anything but me. 

Baby you’ve just given me my next month’s worth of masturbation material.

Remember, I love you!

    -Your future husband

No. Fuck fuck no. Gross get out drop it throw up rip it to shreds hurt smash something scream no no no no no get out get it out get it out find him report him police heroes what the fuck Izanagi-

Izanagi.

Izanagi.

Hey siri, call Izanagi.

“Yo, Y/n! What’s up? Miss me already~” Izanagi. His voice relaxed you and you found your brain forming coherent thoughts again. You opened your mouth to confess what was happening, but nothing came out. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Then you cried. 

It felt so good to finally cry, you hadn’t cried in what felt like years, sobbing and looping his name, your only comfort in this chaos.

“Woah, woah, hey what’s going on? Hang on I’m coming over, don’t you fucking dare hang up!”

You sniffed, nodding, continuing to just mutter his name. In Just under five minutes, he was letting himself in with the spare key. You felt the bed shift, and you felt his warmth next to you. You fell against his side, crying harder. He held onto you, rubbing at your sides.

“Hey, hey. Come on, what happened? Tell me!” you could hear the fear in his voice. You still didn’t feel like you could speak so you just shakily handed him the letter you received, hoping he’d understand your reaction once he saw what you’d gotten.

His eyes scanned the paper before widening, and he covered his mouth with his hand. He dropped the paper, standing up and grabbing a suitcase from your closet and starting to fill it with clothes. He moved with haste, and you noticed he was grabbing your favorite clothes.

The sweatshirt he’d gifted you for Valentine’s Day, the Edgeshot t-shirt you wore every other day, the sweatpants you always slept in, 

“W-what are you doing?” you whimpered.

“You really think I’d let you stay here when some fucker obviously is watching you? I’m gonna report this to the police. No one is going to hurt you, okay? No one hurts my friends!” he turned back to you, a hard look in his eyes. You had a feeling that if he ever ran into your stalker, it would take multiple top heroes to hold him back from killing the guy.

You were grateful.

Izanagi helped you pack, and you told him all the other details. How it started with the Hawks beanie, how you’d gotten bottle caps and sweatshirts, and even dead animals. How you felt too scared to tell anyone, afraid of getting blown off.

He comforted you, he promised you he’d protect you. You felt safe with him. He would protect you. You thanked him religiously as he helped you bring your things over to his place. He kept telling you that of course he’d be doing this, it was the right thing to do.

This man… this man was your rock. He was your everything. You knew there’d be no way to fully repay him for his kindness towards you, but you promised yourself you’d try. 

You sat on his bed again, realizing that for the time being, this was your bed too. He was beside you, holding you tight and comforting you. You relaxed into his touch, before a realization struck you.

“Izanagi- he threatened to kill you. He hurt Kouten too, he- he can probably kill you if he really wants to.” Izanagi shook his head, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Nothing, I swear nothing is going to happen to me. Okay? Now, we’re going to the police station. You will not leave my sight, you will not let go of my hand. You’re not gonna wander off without telling me, etc etc. Clear?”

“Crystal.” you smiled softly, nodding. “Thank you so much Iza.”

“Like I said, of fucking course I’d do this. Come on, let’s get in the car.” he took your hand, putting your stalker’s letter in his pocket and taking you with him back out to his car. You got in the back, and he drove quickly. He glanced back at you repeatedly, double and triple-checking you were there and safe. 

  Finally, he pulled up at the police station and got out, quickly running around to the back doors as you got out. His hand was instantly on yours, pulling your body close against his and walking in the station with you. He briskly walked up to the police lady behind the counter.

“Oh, hello! Is there something I can do for the two of you?” she asked, it was so sweet and cheerful, so vastly different from the emotions swirling around in your mind.

“Yes, here.” Izanagi pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to the lady. “My friend has a stalker, and he’s attacked another one of our friends.” the woman looked over the letter, nodding.

“Alright, I’m going to have some officers talk to your friend in private and-”

“Not happening.” Izanagi growled. “I get it, but I’m not leaving my friend.”

“I- I want him in the room.” you added. “Please.” the woman sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, but unless you are a minor, I can’t have anyone else in the room with you. Even then it would be limited to certain people. It’s a safety precaution.”

“Fuck!” You grabbed Izanagi’s arm, rubbing his bicep to calm him down. He turned to you, offering you a strained smile. “You’ll be okay, right?” he asked, worried. You nodded, a feeble attempt to comfort him.

He gave the officers that came in a hard look, like he expected them to hurt you. You broke away from Izanagi’s comfort and followed them into a questioning room.

There were so many questions.

Every little detail about your life, even things that didn’t seem all that important. You told them everything you told Izanagi, plus a little more. They weren’t very comforting, and when you got scared, they got angry. It wasn’t at all like Izanagi, who softened when you were upset. Any detail that you didn’t have, they seemed to be upset with you about it. As if you were supposed to do your own little investigation illegally. It was… very annoying.

“Alright, we’re going to call a hero in here.” one of the officers told you. “Hawks has been doing a lot more patrols in your area than usual, he might have already seen your stalker and can probably take care of it for you. Is that okay?”

Hawks. You’d just met him one. He was a hero. He was trusted, beloved even. 

Call him in. He’s Hawks. He’s the number two. He wasn’t creepy, just do it!

“That’s fine, I’ll talk to Hawks.”

Maybe you should have thought about it more.

Maybe you should have trusted that feeling in your gut telling you ‘no.’

Maybe you shouldn’t have told Izanagi. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have involved the police.

Maybe you shouldn’t have spoken with Hawks so casually when you met him.

Maybe you shouldn’t have been a bird.

Maybe then.

You’d be free as you once were.

It took five minutes. Then the door swung open and he walked in. It had been a week or so since you saw him, but when he layed his golden eyes on you, you got the feeling that you’d seen him only yesterday, in a flash of red in the dead of night.

“Hello, Y/n L/n.” He spoke calmly, but you noticed a slight tremor of excitement. Why was he so happy to see you? 

You felt chills run down your spine at the way he sat next to you, taking your hand and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. His whole body seemed to vibrate in happiness, his wings fluttering as he locked eyes with you.

You shyed away from him, desperately trying to take your hands back, but his grip was firm. There was no escape.

“I-I changed my mind, officer!” You turned to the policeman, who was just leaving the room, leaving you with him. “I don’t want to talk to a hero, I’m sorry!”

The man turned back to you, a lazy, amused, smirk on his face. 

“Don’t worry, he’s a pro. You’ll be fine.” The man waved you off, shutting the door behind him. You felt like screaming, or throwing up, or both.

Something about Hawks seemed off. The way he looked at you, touched you, grinned so wildly at you, he didn’t look like a hero.

He looked like a crazed lunatic.

Click

The officer had locked the door.

“U-um, hi, Hawks.” you whispered, voice quiet. Fuck you wished Izanagi was here to comfort you. Hawks’ gloves were cold, the beaten leather rough against your hands, they were nothing like the gentle warmth that Izanagi’s soft skin emitted. 

His grin only grew, and he pulled you close to him, arms reaching around under your wings to grip your back. You squeaked, instinctively grabbing onto his biceps. His body was pressed against yours, and his breathing quickened, his face buried into your shoulder. You could feel him inhaling your scent.

“Fuck.” he growled, and you could feel his talons digging into your skin through his gloves and your shirt. “You have no idea how happy I am to finally see you again.” his voice wavered, and you could practically feel his excitement.

“S-sir, please let me go-” you whimpered. “I’m here to report a crime, not as a fan trying to meet you.” the hero cooed, only holding you tighter. 

“I know why you’re here, dear Y/n~” his breath tickled your ear, and you felt tears brimming in your eyes. “And I know who’s been following you. So nice of him to send you all those gifts, right~?” 

No

“So cruel of you to act like he’s a criminal.”

Not like this 

“He’s going to take good care of you~” 

Not right now 

“I love you so much”

Ow.

You felt... foggy.

And warm, really warm.

Tired…

So… tired…

Darkness.

[mediocre--writing]

hiiiiiii :D

i’m going to give you both a harringrove and a kegboys thing

harringrove: the mindflayer didn’t kill billy and billy spent months recovering. when he was let out he didn’t speak to people. but steve was the only one capable of holding onto the patience enough for billy to eventually start talking to him. billy gets a job at a slow business convenient store/gas station. and steve meets him to have lunch together outside in the back every day.

kegboys: steve had a pine tree at the front of his house with a yellow ribbon for barb. and one year billy cuts it down without knowing about its significance. steve eventually finds out what happened and tommy had to take him to the other room before telling billy what he’d done. they spend the day making steve feel better by getting a brand new tree and retying a ribbon even bigger than before.

oooooh these are both so good.

Harringrove: I think that, especially after Steve's whole fiasco with the Russians, he doesn't mind the quietness that comes with Billy. Doesn't mind waiting for him to speak because Steve himself does't really know what he would even say.

Steve's parents, after his 18th birthday, pretty much never came home. They had like seven other houses elsewhere and Steve was his own functioning adult, so they, frankly, didn't give two shits. So Billy stays with him. Plus, Steve's got no job after the mall burned down and his parents are still paying for the house and everything, it's not like it's much of an issue.

They bond in a silent way. Billy can't talk. Like physically, for the first three-ish months, can't get his voice to come out in any understandable fashion, as having a tentacle forced down his throat pretty much ripped at every bit of skin there.

But they communicate. Steve is used to his lonely life in a mansion and just appreciates another body being there that makes it not so lonely.

They function around each other. Whoever gets up first makes the coffee, whoever goes to sleep last turns the main lights off. Whoever opens the clean dishwasher has to empty it and whoever tracks the most snowy footprints in has to mop next.

The first time Billy really talks to Steve is after a nightmare. But not from Billy (he's become really good at controlling how loud his whimpers and crying can get, even asleep [fuk u neil🖕]). Steve is pretty much screaming bloody murder in his sleep and Billy can barely get up the tall staircase as it is, but mixed with sleep and his rush, he slips a few times trying to get to Steve, thinking something is really wrong.

By the time he bursts into Steve’s room, Steve is sitting straight up in bed staring at the blurry light while trying to catch his breath. Billy cautiously walks up to him, flips on a lamp light so there wouldn’t be any in-the-dark scares for Steve, and sits across from him on the edge of the bed. 

Steve ultimately just collapses into Billy’s chest and sobs and sobs and sobs until he’s got it all out and the only thing that can be heard are Steve’s unsteady breaths and Billy’s reassurances. It’s the softest Steve thinks he’s ever heard Billy speak to anyone. 

Steve starts sleeping in the guest room downstairs with Billy after another incident when he starts screaming occurs because it wears Billy down a lot to battle the stairs (his muscles are worn thin and he has very little strength these days). Steve stirs in his sleep but hasn’t panicked like that since he started cuddling with Billy. 

Joyce eventually pulls some strings and gets Billy a job at Melvald's (small town business start picking up after Starcourt burning down) where he can just sit in a chair at the front and check people out. Occasionally she’ll have him stock small things like keychains or the snacks at checkout. 

Steve visits most days during Billy’s break time. Brings take out from Benny’s or leftovers that Mrs. Henderson insisted on dropping off every other week because the boys “needed good, homemade food that they wouldn’t make for themselves.” 

Billy has never felt more taken care of in his life and enjoys the gentle breeze when he and Steve chat behind Melvald’s and eat, sharing what’s happened during the few hours they’d spent apart or discussing what their weekend plans would be. Maybe what they were hungry for for dinner that night. 

One day, when they’re eating a tuna casserole straight out of the Tupperware Mrs. Henderson had put it in, a stray cat comes and kneads gently at Billy’s thigh, over his jeans, and he puts a bit of the casserole on a napkin for the small kitty. 

It becomes a routine and eventually he brings out a can of cat food from the store to feed the cat when he takes his breaks. They call her Melly (after Melvald’s, of course) and eventually she finds a way to sneak into the Camaro and becomes a full-fledged, sassy, rude house cat that has to sleep in the bed with the boys every night or she will scream her little cat scream and scratch at the door until they let her in. 

Kegboys: (ok I tweaked this just a tad bc I couldn’t find a reason for billy to just chop down a random tree) Steve planted the tree after she’d passed away. He didn’t know how to feel about it. He felt awful, of course. He goaded her into drinking with them just because he wanted Nancy and look where that got him. He basically killed a girl and he lost his girlfriend.

He plants this tree, it’s thin and just taller than he is, but every year, after winter ends and plants bloom again, he ties a beautiful yellow bow around the thickest branch near the trunk. He looks at it every morning through the window, the small pine tree at the end of the driveway. 

Only Tommy was there that night, the night a few weeks after it had all “ended” (the first time) and Steve breaks down. Sobs like he never has before, talking in fragmented sentences about how he’s to blame, he killed Barb out of teenage ignorance and because he wanted to have sex with Nancy Wheeler. What a fuckin’ waste. 

Tommy is actually the one who suggests they plant the tree in the first place, a life now gone for a life yet to live. Steve takes care of that tree like if it died, he would too. 

Steve ties a ribbon on it the first year. Tommy adds a second the next year. 

Nobody else really cares. It’s a tree, not a giant portrait of the girl, for crying out loud. Nobody says anything about the bow that gets put on the tree because nobody would put together that the tree represented Barb, it’s just a tree to everyone else. 

Billy wasn’t around for the beginning. He knew that a girl close to Nancy and Steve had died, sure, but he hadn’t known that it was in Steve’s pool and he never knew about the pine tree that grew at the top of the driveway. 

There was a storm, a big one right at the tail end of summer, one that ripped up plants and trees and shingles off of houses, flooded the ditches and low points in the town. 

Billy takes it upon himself to try and fix the Harrington’s trashed yard once the storms let up. He rakes away all the pine straw that had descended and piles up all the large branches and debris. There’s a tree, the pine tree that usually stands tall at the end of the driveway, that was severed at the base, only a mere three or four feet still protruding from the ground, the rest split and resting, half connected, on the ground. 

Billy breaks off the part that was already off, puts it in the pile with the rest of the debris. 

The stump stays at the end of the driveway and Billy goes inside, walks up to Steve and Tommy in the living room after washing his hands and grabbing some water. Tells them that he straightened up the yard. 

“And that tree at the end was broken, so I picked off the part left hanging and put it on the fire pile. I figure we can find something else to plant in it later this week or--”

He’s cut off by Steve jumping off the couch and running out of the front door. He stands a few feet away from the stump left over and falls, bare knees hitting the still damp and muddy ground as he shows no other reaction. 

Tommy’s right behind him, holds his shoulders from behind as he stares at the tree. Billy, from behind Tommy, doesn’t ask a question but stares confusedly at the boys who seem distraught by the disappearance of a seemingly meaningless tree. 

Gentle coaxing, “C’mon, Steve. It’s alright, it’ll grow back and we can buy more ribbon, I promise, but you have to come inside, you’re all muddy,” from Tommy convinced Steve to come inside. 

With no care for how his mother would react to her perfectly white rug being ruined by the dirt, Steve trudges through and eventually lays on the couch, cradling a pillow to his chest while Tommy promises to make him something warm to drink. 

He beckons Billy into the kitchen with him as he puts the kettle on the burner, enough water for all three of them to have tea, and turns to Billy. 

“Why’s he so upset about a tree?” Billy didn’t mean for it to sound harsh or inconsiderate, he was just curious why Steve seemed so distraught over a pine tree that was nowhere near as tall as the ones that were around the house. 

“Ok, so, you know Barb, the girl that died here?”

“She died here!?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Well nobody talks about it, how was I supposed to know?” 

“You should--Nevermind, anyway, she died here because of the whole other-world-monster-guy and Steve blamed himself for it, for, like, ever,” Tommy rested his elbows on the counter, “So, when he finally told me about it, we wanted to do something for her, like a memorial thing, anyway, we decided on a tree and he always ties the yellow ribbon around it and he takes care of it like it’s a child, but it’s gone so--”

“--He feels like he let her die again. Like it was his fault,” Billy concludes. 

“Yeah,” Tommy assures before turning to the cupboards and pulling down three mugs, pouring the hot water in before placing tea bags in each. 

“I mean, is there anything we can do? I feel awful, but the tree was already snapped, I couldn’t have like mended it or anything. I swear it wasn’t intentional,”

“You wouldn’t have known, it’s not your fault. I think Steve just feel a little out of his own mind at the moment, like he lost the hold he had on her. I really don’t know,”

Billy and Tommy stayed on the couch with Steve that day, they just rested and drank tea, listen to soft music on the radio, and took care of the droopy brunet. 

They didn’t replace the tree. They let the old one stay and made sure to take excellent care of it. They’d tie three ribbons on the tree every year, made sure they were tied tightly, the tree growing faster and more prosperous than before, and Steve was better. 

He realized that sometimes you have to get cut down before you can really unveil your true potential, that a little extra love can do wonders. 

[artificialdaydreamer]

A somewhat late fic for @jonsimsandcats day.

Jon is a god of cats whose cat followers report that a beast has taken up residence in the wood outside of town and is causing trouble. Jon, unable to say no to helping cats agrees to get rid of this beast only to run into Martin, who is also searching for it.

Warnings for mild injuries to animals and people

—

Jon woke to find a pair of slitted eyes staring at him. It was not an unusual occurrence, he couldn’t go anywhere without the local cats greeting him, or letting him know of problems they were having. He was, after all, the god of cats. They were his followers and his messengers, and in return he gave them protection and knowledge. It was more unusual to not wake up with several cats sleeping on top of him. The tabby blinked slowly at Jon, he blinked back, and it settled on his lap, its fluffy tail swishing from side to side.

The building he’d fallen asleep in was technically a temple to him but humans rarely visited it so it had fallen into a state of disrepair. It was still a sanctuary for cats, they knew that within its walls they could be safe and warm while they slept, but the only other being that really came inside it was Jon. He tried to keep the fireplace lit in winter and set out bowls of fresh water, but there was only so much he could do. It wasn’t like he could fix the cracked windows and provide an unlimited supply of food, he just wasn’t that powerful.

The God of Cats and Curiosity was not a god people often prayed to, not until winter fell and mice invaded grain stores. Cat owners would occasionally set something on their mantle in offering to him, a saucer of milk or a piece of dried meat, but more often than not it was the cats themselves who honored him. He could understand what they said, and sometimes they were the only creatures he talked with for years. In a world where belief was what made a god strong it was a miracle he hadn’t faded away altogether.

“Hello, master,” a voice sounded inside Jon’s head as the cat purred. He stroked its ginger fur and it rubbed its head against his hand. “I have news from the others in town.”

“Oh?”

“They say a beast is lurking in the forest, it has already affected the supply of prey, and several cats who stumbled across it were wounded by it. If we cannot go hunt in the woods we won’t have enough food.” This was news to Jon, a beast in the forest? Not only was it killing animals it had hurt some of his followers, those he’d sworn to protect. His stomach churned at the thought of how they must have felt, had they prayed to him for help? Had he been too far away to hear them?

“Take me to them.” He started to get to his feet, the cat jumped off his lap as he straightened his clothes, making sure the hood of his blue cape covered his pointed ears completely. Despite being a god he couldn’t change his form, or hide the ears and tail that revealed what he was, so he relied on human clothes like skirts and hoods to disguise himself.

The tabby wound its way between his legs before heading towards the door, and Jon followed. The street was quiet, a few humans passed them but it seemed early enough in the day that a lot of them weren’t up. Turning down an alley he saw a pile of crates had been left in a niche and several cats had made themselves comfortable in it, there were even a few blankets and pillows. On one threadbare cushion lay a female tortoiseshell with cuts on her back, the wounds had scabbed over but dried blood streaked her fur and she couldn’t move without hurting.

“You poor thing.” Unwrapping the cloth belt from around his waist Jon dipped it into a dish of water someone had laid out nearby and began to dab at the cuts. The cat hissed, pupils narrowing into slits, but she didn’t scratch him. She knew who he was and what he was doing here. It took hardly any effort to soothe the tortoiseshell, to numb the pain as he cleaned her wounds. The last thing he wanted was to heal the cuts only to have her get sick because he hadn’t ensured they were dirt-free first.

“Thank you, master.” The tortoiseshell butted his hand with her head. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I apologize for letting you get hurt in the first place.”

“That was not your fault, master. You could not have known the beast would start lurking in the forest.” The cat shook her head, her tail sticking straight up. “The world is a dangerous place, you cannot be everywhere, even if you are a god.”

Sighing, Jon nodded, his own tail flicking from side to side in agitation. She was right, but it still hurt to know that he could not protect all of his followers from harm. Despite being a god he wasn’t very powerful, people just didn’t pray to him enough. He could look through the eyes of other cats nearby and bless them with safety for a limited time, but his power was finite. Anything more than a league away from him was hard to sense, although it hadn’t always been that way. “I’m looking for the beast, would you mind telling me where you encountered it?”

“I can show you.” Getting to her feet the tortoiseshell stretched deeply.

“Lead the way.”

—————

The forest was dense, trees crowded tight together and thick grasses that made it hard to maneuver, if it wasn’t for the narrow footpath made by other travelers Jon would be miserable. A short distance ahead of him the tortoiseshell cat led the way, showing no sign that her earlier injuries were still paining her. Every so often sunlight would find some way through the thick canopy of branches overhead and illuminate their surroundings, although they both could see in the dark just fine. Jon wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking, but when huge pawprints had been practically gouged in the path he insisted the cat ride on his shoulders for the rest of the journey.

“What kind of animal is this beast?” Jon muttered, ihe tracks were bigger than his hand, and while they appeared to be made by some kind of dog they were far larger than most he’d seen. As they progressed Jon saw several trees with claw marks on them and he started to feel anxious. Sure, he was technically a god, but he’d never really been in a fight before. He wouldn’t necessarily die, not from physical wounds, and he did heal faster than the normal human but that didn’t mean he wanted to get hurt. He didn’t even have a weapon to defend himself.

Somewhere in the trees ahead of them a branch snapped, then another. Jon braced himself as he heard footsteps approaching him, growing faster and louder until he saw a huge brown thing burst out from behind a bush and race towards where he stood. It was all he could do to cast a simple protective spell on the cat and drop her on the ground before the thing knocked him over. His head hit hard-packed earth and the world went dark.

“-right?” A voice sounded from somewhere nearby, sounding concerned but Jon was in too much pain to register much more. He willed his body to heal itself, to reduce the swelling and stop his head from throbbing with every beat of his heart. Slowly, agonizingly slow, he found that he could open his eyes, although the world itself was a blur of green and black. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

Just as his eyes adjusted he saw a face staring down at him, their expression worried. A human? Sitting up so fast his head swam Jon checked to see that his hood was still in place. It had shifted somewhat when he fell, but his ears were thankfully still covered. The human had curly orange hair and a round, friendly face, although they still looked anxious. Next to them sat a dog, a huge fluffy thing, even sitting it came up to Jon’s chest, with light-brown fur everywhere but its face and ears, which were black. Was this the beast?

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” The human’s voice was high-pitched and laced with concern. Jon shook his head slightly, but winced as pain sparked behind his eyes.

“I’m fine.” Regardless of how worried this human was, Jon didn’t want them looking at him too closely, the last thing he needed was for them to find out just what he was. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh!” They looked surprised. “I was looking for my dog; they ran off and, well, it’s not like I can stop him if he wants to go somewhere.”

“You own this thing?”

“Well, I guess you could say that. His owners couldn’t take care of him because they had another baby on the way and...” The human trailed off, freckled cheeks flushing pink. “Anyway, I’ve taken in strays before so they felt comfortable giving him to me.”

Jon didn’t really care about where the dog came from, but looking at the size of its paws gave him an idea. “I’ve been told there’s some sort of beast attacking animals in the woods, and I found tracks and claw marks on the path-”

“It’s not him! I know what you’re talking about- I’ve had to take in a whole bunch of wounded animals recently- so I came out here to try and find this ‘beast’ too.” Their voice rose an octave, eyes widening with fear. “I brought Silas with me because I thought he could maybe track it somehow? I know he’s not really a hunting dog but still...”

“Has it?” He scanned the ground nearby and found the tortoiseshell cat hiding behind a tree just off the path. Kneeling down Jon held out a hand to her. “I’m sorry, darling. Are you alright?” The cat approached him cautiously, eyes darting to the dog every so often, and he scooped her up in his arms.

“What?”

“Has it tracked the beast?” It was hard to keep from rolling his eyes, Jon didn’t care much for rambling when he had something to do. He absentmindedly stroked the tortoiseshell’s head, trying to reassure it.

“N- No... I thought he had but he just found you.” The human gave a shy smile. “How do I know you’re not the beast?”

Jon stiffened, his ears flattening against his hair and his tail bristling. In his arms the cat hissed angrily. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Calm down, let me handle this.” It was clear this human had no idea they’d just insulted a god, but as much as Jon wanted to curse them for the accusation he was here for a different reason. “If you don’t have anything helpful to say then this is where we part.” He continued to comfort the cat as he pushed past them and continued on the path.

“W- Wait!” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw the human was following him. “I mean, we both have the same goal, don’t we? We both want to find this beast and stop it from hurting the local animals. Why don’t we look for it together?”

“I can’t stop you from following me.” Jon sighed and tugged his hood farther forward. He had a feeling that he’d made the wrong decision, but he’d spoken the truth. Besides, this human was larger than he was, with them and the dog he might stand a chance against this beast.

They walked in silence for a while, but like all good things it didn’t last. “I just realized I never got your name; I’m Martin, Martin Blackwood.”

“Jon.” He didn’t feel much like talking, especially since he was trying to listen for any strange noises.

“Just... Just Jon?” The human- Martin- seemed dissatisfied at his answer.

“That’s all I’m willing to share with you.”

“Right, that’s fine,” A pause. “Are you a man?” When Jon glared at them Martin turned bright red. “It’s just, I don’t want to misgender you, that’s all. I’m a man, he/him pronouns.”

“I don’t really see the point of gender.” Jon sighed, pulling on his hood as his ears were flicking enough from irritation he feared it might fall down. “He/they, I guess.”

“Got it.” Martin was a few paces behind, his footsteps louder than Jon’s. “I’m guessing you’re also an animal lover, given that you’re also searching for this beast.” Jon wanted to scream, could this human not be quiet for five minutes?

“Yes, which is why I’m trying to track it. That being said, if it makes noise I will be unable to hear it because you keep talking.” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw Martin stiffen, his cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. Thankfully he didn’t say anything though, and Jon could have cried from relief.

They continued on, neither of them making a sound as they trudged through the woods, occasionally the dog would run ahead and sniff at a tree or patch of earth but thankfully it didn’t bark. Eventually they arrived in a clearing only to find more tracks in the dirt, the same ones Jon had seen on the path. He was about to say something to Martin when some bushes rustled and a giant wolf leapt towards him.

Having a huge animal knock him over once already that day Jon was more alert, and while he managed to avoid the worst of the beast’s attack its claws still managed to slash through his tunic and he could feel hot, sticky blood running down his side. The pain would come later, once the shock went away, but he was glad to have only gotten minor injuries as he stumbled backwards, clutching the cat to his chest and making sure his hood hadn’t fallen off. His ears were flattened against his hair again and his heart was racing.

“Jon!” Martin rushed to him, blue eyes wide as he took in the wound. Jon pushed him away, staring at the wolf in horror. The beast was as large as a horse, its fur so streaked with dirt and blood, mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Still, even as his skin knit back together and his heart pounded in his chest he sensed something off about it. Not just its size, but something about its essence was wrong.

Martin had grabbed a broken branch and was holding it like a club, the dog was growling and looked ready to attack the wolf, but Jon held out a hand. “Don’t!”

“That thing nearly killed you!”

“It’s cursed, Martin, it’s not doing this because it wants to.” Placing the tortoiseshell on the ground he took a few cautious steps towards the wolf, one hand outstretched. It snarled at him, crouching down as though preparing to strike again, but Jon tried to reach out with his powers. He was a cat god, but he hoped he could at least calm the thing down from whatever blind rage it had succumbed to. As he drew nearer he saw something wrapped around the beast’s neck, a leather cord so dirty it was almost indistinguishable from its fur. The energy emanating from the cord was the cause of the strange feeling he’d sensed, could that be the source of the curse? “We need to get the cord off its neck.”

“How are we supposed to do that? I doubt we can get close enough.” Martin frowned, but at least he didn’t seem like he was going to attack the wolf.

“Do you have a knife of some sort?” Jon supposed that being the god of cats it was unusual for him to not have “claws” of some sort, but he didn’t like hurting living things. In the future he might start carrying something around, just in case he needed it.

“Oh, yeah! Hang on.” Martin dropped the branch and fumbled at his waist before tossing something to Jon, who barely managed to catch it. Fortunately the knife was still in its leather sheath, the wooden handle was worn but the blade gleamed as though it had been freshly sharpened. Upon seeing it the wolf snarled, baring its teeth and crouching down as though readying to pounce.

“That’s what I was worried about.” Jon sheathed the knife again and approached the beast slowly, trying not to startle it. Fortunately the wolf did not attack, but it didn’t relax either, its ice-blue eyes focused on him.

When he was in front of it he grasped the leather cord in one hand and had to resist the urge to cry out in agony. Jon wasn’t the target of this particular curse, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the malice that had gone into it. A deer, sacred to the Goddess of the Wild, had been slain by accident and the hunter had been turned into a bloodthirsty monster in return. The wolf howled, out of pain or sadness he didn’t know, but he managed to pull out the knife and cut the cord. It fell to the ground, turning into a pile of ash, and Jon felt his knees buckle.

When his vision cleared Martin was kneeling next to him, and before him lay a woman. Her clothes were tattered, caked in blood and dirt, her blond hair coming out of its messy braid. The dog sniffed at her prone form, occasionally nudging her cheek with his nose or pawing at her as though it was concerned. Jon could see that she was breathing, but no doubt she was exhausted from whatever the curse had done to her.

“This is the beast?” Martin looked taken aback, that the monster who’d slaughtered and wounded animals was just a human. “She looks so... innocent.”

“Everyone looks innocent when they’re asleep. She’s a hunter, but she accidentally chose the wrong prey and angered a god.” Jon sighed, getting to his feet and once more checking his hood.

The cat wound its way between his legs, rubbing up against them and purring. “You did it master!”

“I can carry her back to town.” Jon blinked, not sure he’d understood Martin. “What? We can’t just leave her here, it’d be best to bring her to a healer so someone can take a look at her.”

“Right, of course.” He’d forgotten that humans were so fragile, although Jon could sense that some part of the curse had not left the woman. She had been changed by it, marked by the wild.

The trip back through the forest was quiet, neither of them felt much like talking as they picked their way through the trees. The sun had started to set and Jon had to rely on his night vision to guide them, all the while hoping that Martin wouldn’t ask how he could see so well in the dark, or notice the unusual shine to his eyes. Once they’d entered town a handful of cats approached him, all of them thanking him for getting rid of the beast.

“Wow,” Martin gaped at the welcome party. “Cats really like you, huh?”

“You could say that.” Jon replied, unable to hide his smirk.

It was fortunate that the healer recognized the woman and agreed to treat her free of charge because Jon had no money whatsoever. His followers were mainly cats, and it wasn’t like they were in the business of giving him spare change. The healer called the woman “Daisy,” although the name didn’t seem to fit the huge wolf she’d been mere hours ago. Then again, Jon wasn’t exactly the best name for a god of cats and it was still his name.

It was only when Martin stopped at a crossroads and pointed down one of the streets did Jon remember that their partnership had been temporary. “I live down that way, I’m sure if you ask someone they’ll be able to point you in my direction.”

“Right...” It was strange, he’d only known Martin for a short amount of time and yet he felt a pang of sadness in his chest. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Goodnight, Jon.” Martin smiled and began to walk away, the dog bounding off down the street.

“Goodnight, Martin.”

When he returned to his temple and settled down on the pile of blankets he called a bed Jon thought about his day. While he’d originally set off to find the beast because his followers had asked it of him, he hadn’t actually done anything godlike. Sure, he’d figured out that the wolf was cursed and managed to break the cord, but it hadn’t really been that difficult. Apart from getting injured twice, that was. Jon thought of Martin’s kindness when the dog had knocked him over, of his flushed face when he was embarrassed, of his bravery when preparing to fight the beast. As his eyes drifted shut he considered how odd it was, that after being a god for so long it only took one day for him to suddenly feel so very human.

——

One day I will not get ideas for an event the day of said event. Credit to the Magnus Writer’s server for the plot bunny, and thanks to @ravendarkwood for the beta!

[writingstarling]

Comfort in You

Adrien needed to get out. He curled deeper into himself as the walls chased down to cage him like a determined hunter.

It was a trick of the mind, he knew. He knew his room was spacious enough to support a relatively large apartment. That it would be impossible for him to be closed in.

He knew. But his brain couldn’t process that.

Today wasn’t what Adrien would call a good day—and he certainly had better. Just thinking of it sent him into a spiral of his own thoughts.

The air in his room were lego blocks he's forced to inhale. Smothering his nostrils in full force. And was it just him or was the ground starting to sway?

“Breathe,” a voice brought him back to reality. Adrien didn’t even notice he was holding his breath.

He had to calm down. Gain his head back.

Breathe, Agreste. Just like the article said, 4 7 8. Inhale through the nose for 4. Hold it for 7. Exhale through the mouth for 8, Adrien did as so.

You’re alright, you’re okay. Just calm down and you can get out of here!

Somehow he had managed. His surroundings were clearing up. The walls didn’t look like they were about to collapse on him anymore. The air filtering through his nostrils lightened in weight.

He was fine.

“Fine” was an overstatement really. He was far from it as it is.

But in his situation and for argument’s sake, “fine” would fit in nicely.

Exhaling one last shaky breath, Adrien fixed eye contact with his furry companion and smiled.

“Thanks, Plagg. I needed that.”

The black cat rubbed his cheek against his chosen’s. Not for long though. Despite appearances, Plagg had a reputation to keep. He couldn’t let Tikki make fun of him!

Plagg did loops in the air before favouring a spot in front of his chosen. His flipper like hands poised on his waist and a sly smirk played on his lips.

“So, you ready to break out of this place?”

Adrien mirrored his smirk with a fresh new glint in his eyes, “Plagg, claws out!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life had been considerably unpredictable for Marinette. With her secret life as a superhero and the sudden debut of a supposed supervillain—or magical terrorist with the ability to grant people magical powers through the aid of butterflies, Marinette had thought that she was beginning to gain the capability to be unfazed by the unexpected. That with all the bizzare events in her life she became acquainted with it.

Apparently she was wrong.

Never had she expected for a certain cat—or perhaps Chat to be perched on her veranda. It rattled her at first. Chat’s last visit had been... interesting, to put it nicely. It wasn’t his fault per se, nevertheless the escalating events left a bad taste in her father regarding the cat themed hero. The bad blood died down, but finding the very person that broke your daughter’s heart on your balcony would certainly summon a very irresistible impulse to jettison him; and Marinette really didn’t want to explain to Paris why one of their heroes managed to become roadkill near her bakery (the suit would probably protect him, but Marinette did not want to take that chance).

That put aside, Marinette shuffled under her sole protector from peering—or in this case, Chat Noir’s eyes. A hand stationed at her trapdoor as her eyes spied on her partner.

His back faced her as he surveyed the city; his cat ears were flat on his tousled gold locks while he hummed a song Marinette became familliar with as “Little Cat on The Roof”. Her lips twitched into a knowing frown.

Being partners for so long they were bound to notice habits the other owned. At the moment, it was Chat’s occasional croons. Marinette recognised the song as Chat's solace. A safe haven achieved by focusing on the assortment of melodies the song offered. She came to the conclusion that her kitty was distressed; presumably due to family circumstances.

Marinette weighted her odds. It didn’t seem like Chat had noticed her yet—which was good. She hadn’t known what action to take. On the one hand, it would be wise to not nose around and let him solve it in his own time. But on the other hand, seeing him lack his usual jubilant and bright attitude sent a jab to her heart.

She wanted to help. To be of service to him like the terrible jokes and over the top shenanigans he did for her. No matter how stubborn she was to clung to her sour mood, he would do almost everything that came to mind to alleviate her spirits. She wanted to do the same for him.

“Marinette?”

The mentioned girl tensed before sighing internally. She knew she was bound to be spotted (HA!) somehow, though she did wish it would be from her own volition rather than a slip aided by Chat��s observation skills. Marinette didn’t loiter on that thought longer and pulled herself up. Red bloomed on her cheeks as the crisp autumn air caressed her skin while embarrassment added an even darker shade of red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spy,” she found great interest in the floor as her fingers busied themselves by connecting and disconnecting themselves, stealing peeks as she did.

She expected, hoped, for him to take the chance to chaff her of having an infatuation on him or alleging her of being stunted by his self-proclaimed dashing looks (Marinette has thrown herself into a spiral of denial), albeit begrudgingly. She had, because if he did—there lied a glimmer of hope that it would be easier to buoy her partner. Chat, however, had other plans in mind.

Chat offered her a smile. Impeccably centered and hollow like a well crafted porcelain doll, “It’s okay, it was rude of me to steal your balcony.”

Internally Marinette cringed at the sight. Her stomach wrapped itself in knots of discomfort. It reminded her of the smile Adrien would plaster whenever Chloe or Lila claimed possession of him. That night Marinette vowed that she would never let that smile abide on either boys ever again.

“It’s all right,” she spoke as her feet planted herself next to him.

A pregnant pause held them hostage. Both fearful of breaking the fragile semblance of peace between them despite the mutually felt inquietude.

“So,” Marinette threaded with rightfully earned prudence. Voice soft and light like footsteps on thin ice.

“...So...”

“I have some croissants.”

Finally a piece of her kitty came to light in the form of a grin on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“You would indulge this poor stray to the finest pastries in the world? Truly, you are the most a-meow-zing purr-incess in the world!”

Marinette fought the giggle bubbling in her throat with no success before sending him a playful glare coupled by a smirk that flourished nothing but friskiness, “Careful now, those awful puns might just cost you.”

Chat’s hand sought his heart above the magical leather suit as an overly inflated gasp found freedom from his peach pink lips.

“How could you Purr-incess! My puns are widely ad-mew-tted to be fur-ry paw-esome,” he retaliated, voice brimmed with feigned smugness.

Snacks and chagrins were soon forgotten as they fell into an easy rhythm of banter. Jabs aimed to Chat’s puns would immediately be reciprocated with a flimsy defense along with an additional pun. Each one personally designed to perturb her further into submission. But despite it, Marinette couldn’t brush away the warmth buzzing through her entire body as they went back and forth. The once brisk air nipping at her skin replaced by a fervour akin to a hug from a dear friend.

After a particularly long laughter from both parties as Chat had finally managed to delivered a humorous pun - “EXCUSE mew Purr-incess, my puns are always funny!” - they settled in another lapse of silence. Consisted of feather lightness and melodic sweetness.

The city was exceptionally beautiful, they had agreed. Perhaps it was due to the occurrence of a full moon, offering the city a better lighting to its beauty; perhaps it was the fiery orange lining the streets with its playful gradient; or perhaps the most immediately discarded thought in their heads, the company they had.

It was a territory they never dared to venture. A land littered with minefields yet to be discovered, yet to explode with much more uncertainty and a set of emotions they were far too fearful to label. Because trying to label the unknown might shatter the bits of understanding of their emotions they barely possessed. Putting the hesitantly glued pieces into shambles; and as a teenager finding their place in the world, it was a risk they were walking eggshells on.

Neither allowed themselves to loiter on the thought longer than a second.

“I, I should get going.” Perhaps it was her imagination, perhaps it was reality how Chat’s ears drooped as he spoke.

“Uh, yeah, it's getting late...”

Chat took the initiative to climb the rails of her balcony, hunched and ready to set off. Baton in hand and his leather-covered thumb hovering over the button to extend it the moment he leaps.

Swivelling his head to face the pig-tailed girl, he gave her a smile, genuine and sincere. “Thanks Marinette, I’ll see you next time.”

For reasons unkown to Marinette herself, a giggle burst forth from her throat. Tickling the air around them with her bubbly laughter. All at once, the air felt warmer to Chat Noir.

“Sure thing, you silly cat.”

Marinette had expected for Chat Noir to make his way. However, still he was in his previous position, unmoving. Marinette was one breath away from uttering her worries when Chat Noir’s voice cut through the air in slight whispers timid and uncharacteristic.

“Can I,” he paused for a minute, but persevered nonetheless, “can I come here again?”

The question sounded child-like in Marinette’s ears. Like a shy little kid trying to make friends while shouldering a large fear of rejection. He sounded so small, so vulnerable.

Marinette took a breath to ease the tenseness she felt from Chat’s question. She needed to deliver an answer appropriate from her words down to her tone in order to fully put Chat at ease.

Gentle and fluffy, sweeter than all the candies in the world with a tone of loveliness, she spoke. “You’re always welcomed here, Chat.”

A weight could visibly be seen lifted off Chat’s shoulders. Shoulders once guarded and fearful of rejection came to relax for the first time that night. With a nod, Chat finally made his way back to his house.

The journey was something he didn’t desire, but he can’t impose Marinette with his overdue stay. At the very least, he came back with a new feeling better than anything he had in a long time. A feeling of warmth buzzing in his heart. Perhaps, he’s finally starting to remember the feeling of home again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAHAHAHA SO-

I uh, I forgot about this thing’s existence and neglected it for 2 years...

Well so that’s also why the writing style is a bit screwed up but I tried and honestly I was too lazy to rewrite the whole thing so you can have this mess instead ❤️.

[imomomi]

         The doodles first started when he was 16. Little stars on his wrists when he woke up, a flower curling on his palm before class, an inky sketch of some mountains on his thigh. Rationally, he knew what they were, why they were there, but it didn’t stop the initial stab of disgust at seeing the ink on his body. He washed it off frequently and often right away. By the end of the week, the drawings became less frequent. The loss of them did not hurt, but a stab of anxiety followed when he woke inkless and alone like always. Kiyoomi had never written back. The idea of writing—what if the ink was toxic and made him sick, what if they were allergic to something and it somehow leake---he took a breath, shaking the thoughts from his head.

          He didn’t hate the idea of having a soulmate. It made life easier knowing that he didn’t need to waste his time looking for a partner. He preferred it when things were clear cut, easy to understand, and with a visible end in sight.

          Not where people can see, he wrote on his thigh, just high enough that it wouldn’t show when he was playing. His handwriting was chicken scrawl and despite his attempts to make it neater, he never managed it.

          He waited minuets, checking with such frequency that not even cleaning his room had taken his mind off it. Words didn’t always make it through. No one knew why or how the process worked. Scientists debated that the reason words didn’t appear were because communication as a human method, poets wrote about the mysteries of soulmate marks and fate, but Kiyoomi thought it was simpler than all of that. Soulmate marks lead you to your soulmate when you were ready. Relationships were messy and complicated and despite how alone he was at times, he didn’t want one right now.

          A single word followed, written so neatly it could have been its own font.

          Ok.  

          The eighty-eighth floor of MSBY’s headquarters was not a place that Kiyoomi ever dared enter. He was content in receiving his paycheck on the day he was meant to and waiting for contract negations to raise any issues. Atsumu had managed to sneak his way into the Management and Finance department the first week he’d joined the team. Apparently, the gossip among their teammates wasn’t enough to quell his nosy behavior. How he’d managed to convince him to join in on his lunch-time venture, Kiyoomi wasn’t too sure. All he knew was that he regretted his decision already.

          Couches were scattered in the main room surrounding large flat-screen T.Vs that played the news in a constant cycle. A large-open kitchen faced the back wall where a couple of people hung around, holding steaming mugs. Two people sat at one of the couches, intensely focused on a video-game they were playing. All around the floor, leading up the offices down the hall, were flowers. Some hung from the ceiling, spilling over the pots with vines drifting downwards. Large bouquets in crystal vases littered the tables. Kiyoomi could feel his nose twitching.

          “Come on,” Atsumu said, leading him down the hall where several offices were tucked against the floor to ceiling windows. They came to a stop in front of a corner office where a small shoe rack lined with slippers, some still in the plastic casing, rested outside the door. A pair of pale pink slippers were on the top shelf, bunny ears plastered obnoxiously at the front.

          “Take off your shoes. Y/N-chan hates dust. I’m pretty sure she ripped out the carpet with her bare hands when she got here.”

          “I’m surprised you’re actually doing it,” said Kiyoomi. Too often had he watched in disgust as the man went home wearing the same sweaty clothes he’d practiced in.

          “Y/N almost had a heart attack the first time I came in here, kinda made me feel bad not to listen after that,” Atsumu admitted. Kiyoomi struggled to rearrange his features to hide his doubt at the words and failed.  

          “Yet, when I tell you to stop stealing my face masks and towels, you never listen,” he said, dryly.

          “That’s different. She’s a girl. You’re Omi-Omi.”

          “So, if I miraculously gain a vagin-” Kiyoomi started.

          “Do ya ever shut up? I’m not arguin’ with ya in the middle of the hall,” Atsumu hissed, his accent coming out stronger in his annoyance. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. If anything, it was Atsumu who started every one of their arguments, but his own boredom didn’t help.

          “No need to be so sensitive,” said Kiyoomi.

          “Put the damn slippers on,” Atsumu said, shoving the unopened packet into his gut. Sakusa smirked beneath his mask, gingerly opening up the slippers.

          They were in the office for a full ten minutes before anyone arrived. Atsumu took the time to make himself comfortable in the leather chair behind the desk, making the various figurines of the team fight. Prototypes for the upcoming season, thought Kiyoomi, glancing at the little chibi version of himself in curiosity. The door snaps open and a woman walked in harried and tapping on her phone. She wasn’t dressed in office clothes, rather in an oversized hoodie with the name of a foreign university splashed across the front and leggings. The pink slippers that sat outside were on her feet.

          “I thought I banned you from here last week,” she said with a groan, tossing a bag down onto the couch. She nodded to him in greeting, but otherwise ignored his existence.

          “I bought a friend as a peace offering,” Atsumu said, throwing a hand in his direction. Y/N’s gaze fell to him briefly, brow furrowing.

          “I don’t accept,” she said, turning to glare at Atsumu. “Human trafficking is bad. You would have learned that if you actually made it to college.”

          “Sorry for joining the team,” said Atsumu. He stood from her desk, letting her settle in. Kiyoomi watched the two interact, wondering how long they had known one another.

          “Please, I can replace you any day,” she muttered.

          “We all know you love me too much to do that.”

          “When I finally jump from the roof, I want everyone to know it’s your fault.”

          “Take me with you,” Kiyoomi muttered, shooting Atsumu a look of disgust. Her lips twitched and she offered him a smile. Kiyoomi averted his gaze immediately, not liking that her attention finally focused on him. There was something unnerving in her gaze.  

          “What do you want?” she asked.

          “Business as usual. Sakusa needs you this time, not me,” Atsumu said.

          “I’m sure you had nothing to do with that,” she drawled.

          “I was brought against my will,” Sakusa acknowledged. She picked up a pen and notepad from her desk, clicking it rapidly as she started to scribble.

          “We can file a report,” she joked, “I’m sure the papers would love to hear how Miya Atsumu was involved in a scandal with his teammate.”

          “Suddenly, I’m regretting all my life choices leading up to this moment,” Atsumu said.

          “You didn’t before?” Sakusa asked. Y/N laughed and Kiyoomi hated how the sound filled the air, bouncing with a levity that he’d never experienced on his own. People like Atsumu---and it seemed like Y/N---had a way of taking up space and never letting it go. They were loud because they thrived on the attention and Kiyoomi who had been surrounded by people but, alone all his life flinched away from it.

          He pushed the thoughts away, explaining quickly and concisely that Atsumu had brought him here to specify how he wanted the locker room set up before games. Kiyoomi anticipated resistance to his requests but was shown a brutal efficiency that he can’t help but admire. Y/N listened attentively, taking notes, and asking questions, before promising that they would implement a new cleaning schedule before their next practice. They leave as quickly as they arrived, but part of him expected more and is left empty with the thought that there was something incomplete about their meeting.

           That night’s drawing was a little cat curled up in a box. It looked like any other stray that he might see in Tokyo, but there was something endearing about the way its eyes were closed in two tiny smiles. Kiyoomi traced it idly. It must have taken a long time, he thought. The urge to draw something back filled him, but he has neither the talent nor willpower to sit and draw on himself for any length of time. Unlike when he was younger, the drawings came less frequently and always at night.

          He watched; brow furrowed in confusion as words appeared beneath the drawing. The rare sight had his heart hammering loudly in his chest.

          Azabu, Tokyo.

Masterlist || Next

Taglist: @haikyuuopalite​ @cuddlesslut​ @sckusa​ @imuziawi​

[queermediastudies]

“A Queer Who Cares” : The Intersection of Class and Queerness in Tokyo Godfathers

Tokyo Godfathers is a Japanese animated film, made in 2003, that follows the adventures of three homeless friends on Christmas Eve in Tokyo, Japan. Throughout the movie, we follow Hana, a transwoman and former drag queen, Gin, a middle-aged man with a gambling addiction, and Miyuki, a teenage runaway, as they find a baby in a trash can and spend Christmas Day trying to reunite the child with her mother. A comedic adventure quickly ensues, as the chaotic but loving trio, do their best to take care of their new baby, solve the mystery of her appearance, and all the while combat the dangers and prejudices that come with being homeless. Though predominantly a comedy, the film also strays away from its humorous tone and delves deep into the characters’ complex backstories, emotionally exploring the myriad of reasons why Hana, Gin, and Miyuki are homeless and why getting the baby back to her mother is so important for each of them. Directed by the famous Satoshi Kon and loosely based on the 1913 novel “The Three Godfathers”, the film explores themes of parenthood, found families, classism, transphobia, and addiction, and illuminates the complex ways in which these forces interact and impact daily life. In essence, Tokyo Godfathers effectively explores themes of transphobia and the intersection of classism and queerness, and though not entirely unproblematic, is unique and powerful in its complex characterization of both Hana as a character and the oppressions she faces as a transwoman who is homeless. 

(Hana speaking about her desire to be loved)

Before beginning, it is important to note that the following analysis is of the 2020 English dubbed re-release of Tokyo Godfathers by GKIDS. As of now, there are many fan-subbed versions of the film circulating on the internet that misgender Hana in their subtitles. The GKIDS re-release does not so I will not be addressing that form of transphobia in my analysis. Similarly, in the original Japanese version, Hana is voiced by a man, and the fluctuations of her voice, from high and feminine when she is happy, to low and masculine when she wants to be intimidating, is present and follows a very transphobic trope in comedy. In the GKIDS dubbed version, Hana is voiced by Shakina Nayfack, a transwoman, actress, and activist, and these vocal fluctuations are not present so, once again, I will not be addressing that form of transphobia, as it was not present in the updated version that I watched.

How Shakina Nayfack used her voice to reclaim trans representation in animation

(A short article on Shakina Nayfack, the English voice actress for Hana in the 2020 GKIDS re-release)

Though Tokyo Godfathers does not have the popularity or mainstream attention to be considered a breakout text, it’s humanizing and complex characterization of Hana breaks traditional transphobic tropes, particularly in comedy, that lends itself to “creat[ing] small cracks in the glass ceiling of cultural consciousness and makes room for future breaks” (Cavalcante, 2017, p. 4). Hana is the main protagonist of the film. She is both the center of comedic relief, the leader of her found family and the driver of the plot as a whole. It is through her desire to fulfill her dream of becoming a mother, and her desperate need to understand why parents abandon their children (as her parents did to her), that motivates her, and in turn, her friends, to find the child’s parents themselves, instead of going to the police. It is in this complexity that Hana, “breaks historical representation paradigms” of both trans characters and queer characters as a whole (Cavalcante, 2017, p. 2). In her desperate search to love and be loved, Hana is immediately humanized, her identity centered in love and family, and not in her gender or sexuality, as so many queer characters are. In addition, she is not portrayed as “sexless” as is the norm for queer characters, wherein they can exist in media as long as their love stories and intimate desires do not. Though very subtle, Hana is the only character in the movie that has a love interest, Gin, and she had a boyfriend, who died, but is still a key part of her characterization. Though these love stories are not centered in the film, they are the only ones in the movie, and this exclusive existence, unique to Hana, illustrates their importance to both the themes of the movie and Hana’s character.   

(Miyuki asks Hana about her feelings for Gin)

(A photo of Hana and her ex-boyfriend Ken at the club she once worked at)

That is not to say that the queer representation in this film is by any means perfect. As mentioned, the movie is a comedy and thus falls into the historical “preponderance of these representations occurring in the comedy”, especially given that  Hana is the comedic center (Dow, 2001, p.130). Even more so, there are instances in which Hana’s trans identity is stereotyped and used as the joke itself. In one scene, she flirts with a cab driver knowing that he is uncomfortable by the fact that she is a trans woman, and his transphobia is framed as comedic. She also has a very flamboyant personality, with sharp emotional highs, and equally dramatic lows, that once again plays into stereotypical representations of transwomen as over-the-top and overly dramatized to the point of ridiculousness. In line with this, her previous line of work was as a drag queen, and though scenes of her in the drag community are dominated by a sense of love and community, it still plays into already established tropes of transwoman living as a performance. In these ways, her representation at times leans towards the role of the “clown...putting on a show for The Other” where it is “never quite clear whether we are laughing with or at this figure” (Hall,1995, p. 22).  However, as mentioned above, Hana’s complex and nuanced backstory, combined with her frequent acts of heroism and her leadership role, make it so she is deeply humanized. Though her dramatic personality falls into these stereotypical tropes at times, it does not detract from her character arc of motherhood and finding love, a nuance that is missing from many stories of trans women in media.  

(As pictured, Hana’s emotions are very dramatized and quickly jump from very high to very low)

This nuance is heightened through the intersection of classism and queerness, which is an equally prevalent theme throughout the film. In particular, class struggles are illustrated through medical care. At one point, Hana falls ill, and Gin is forced to give away his life savings in order to pay for her treatment. It is also here where Hana’s gender identity is questioned, as the hospital houses her in the men’s ward, and she explains that she “is not pleased with this”. This particular intersection of class and queerness within a medical setting is impactful given the long and “oppressive role of medicine in trans people’s lives” (Keegan, 2016, p. 607) and the strong tendency of media to tell trans folks stories, about both life and transition, in a way that is medicalized. For Hana, the discrimination she experiences at the hospital, and her inability to pay for her treatment, illustrate the violence of intersecting oppressions of queerness and homelessness in medical systems, while also straying away from the problematic representation of trans folks that are centered around a rhetoric of medicalization. More visually, the family is also a key illustrative example of how class and queerness are explored. The trio is constantly visually contrasted with traditional Japanese families in a variety of settings. This harkens back to ideas of “alternative forms” of families that queer folks create and this difference is visually exasperated by the trio’s homelessness, making them stand out in whatever space they are in (Keegan, 2016, p. 607).

(An angel asks Gin if he would rather have her magic or an ambulance. He chooses the ambulance.)

(Hana in the hospital. The subtitle reads “This ward, it’s the men’s isn't it?”)

(One of many scenes where the trio is set up in  familial positions)

As a queer, white woman living in the United States my subject positionality had a great effect on how I consumed the movie. Most notably, I was born and raised in Western society, and given that this film is Japanese and made for Japanese audiences, there is a variety of cultural norms and perceptions that I did not pick up on because of my lack of familiarity with them. In the same vein, I watched this movie translated into English and, as with every translated work, there are words and subtle, yet important, nuances in the language that were very likely lost to me as a viewer. My identity as a queer woman made it so that I was drawn to Hana as a character and was very moved by her deep desire to be a mother. The movie is steeped in images of Hana and her friends encompassing the idea of a non-traditional family, and since I would love a family of my own one day and I expect that to look different than the dominant nuclear family norm, I really focused my experience on the variety of nontraditional families that this movie shows, all of them as loving as the next.

(Hana and her drag mother reuniting)

(Hana and her family)

As a whole, Tokyo Godfathers, though not without its faults, is a refreshing take on the traditional feel-good Christmas movie trope, delving into class and queerness, and using the two to explore what it really means to be a family that is loving and kind. Spoiler alert, that family looks a little something like one ex-drag queen, one man with a gambling addiction, a teenage runaway who loves cats, and their baby they found in a dumpster.  

Sources

Dow, Bonnie (2001). “Ellen, Television, and the Politics of Gay and Lesbian Visibility.” Critical Studies in Media Communication 18(2), 123-140. 

Cavalcante, Andre (2017). “Breaking into Transgender Life: Transgender Audiences’ Experiences With ‘First of Its Kind’ Visibility in Popular Media.” Communication, Culture & Critique, 1-18. 

Keegan, Cáel (2016). “Tongues without Bodies: The Wachowskis’ Sense8.” Transgender Studies Quarterly 3(3–4), 605-610. 

Hall, Stuart (1995). “The Whites of their Eyes: Racist Ideologies and the Media,” in Gender, Race, and Class in Media 3rd ed., pp. 18-22. 

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Seklos and Gaylen, They Were Cagemates! Chapter 1: Captivity

Agents of Area 49-B are there during the chaos of the Eternal Night, and unnoticed they manage to capture two specimens: an emo wizard and an Akiridion prince. Douxie and Krel must rely on each other to make it out alive, but neither expected such a deep bond to form between the two of them.

Do not let the meme title fool you, this fic will be dark.

Trigger/Spoiler Warning for Chapter 1: electrocution, kidnapping, and references to canon-typical violence as well as child abandonment.

AO3

FFN

Douxie wasn't sure why he expected the future to be void of Gumm-Gumms. Sure, according to Zoe, trolls had largely disappeared from the world at the same time that Merlin and Morgana did. And Tatik Margarid had only seen a troll once. Thus, Douxie had assumed that trolls had largely disappeared, having crawled deep underground. Orglak and his horde had stopped trying to kill humans, and the only threat to stray cats (or dragons who looked like cats) were Shadow Mephits.

Naturally, Douxie had been wrong. Gumm-Gumms had attacked the Battle of the Bands. And obviously, some people had known about them, like Claire. She had been better prepared, with her armor. There was something familiar about it. Something that made him feel homesick for Camelot.

It really sucked. And the Battle of the Bands had been going so well before the sky went orange and the Gumm-Gumms attacked. The competition was, for the most part, the way it had been last year - a bunch of amateurs who were looking for fame and had thus trained themselves to sing and badly play guitar in a month, and music students hoping to impress their teachers even though the school year had just ended. But there had been a boy who fulfilled two out of the three indicators of Douxie's type. He had wavy, chin-length hair, and he was good at music. Douxie didn't normally like dubstep, and yet that boy's music had been so mesmerizing.

Oh, who was Douxie kidding? The dubstep artist was mesmerizing in general. Douxie got the feeling that the others in Ash Dispersal Pattern would be teasing him about his latest crush right now if they weren't…

Douxie didn't know where they were. He bit his lip. Could they be dead?

He shook his head. No. He couldn't allow himself to think like that. He knew that a lot of normal humans had immediately ran for cover, so he had to think that his bandmates were still alive and in hiding. He could find them, and possibly grieve them, when the Gumm-Gumms were gone. Or he could finally reveal to them what he had been keeping a secret from the world ever since he was fourteen, and before that, until he was taken in by Merlin. It was lonely, having to keep the truth about himself hidden from his friends, and maybe this sudden incursion of Gumm-Gumms were a blessing in disguise. A chance to reveal himself. Though, he would have to check with Tatik Margarid and the hedge wizards first. He wouldn't put them in danger for his own desire to not have to hide a part of himself. After all, they couldn’t be sure if humans would accept them or not.

Douxie pushed the thoughts out of his head as he readied yet another spell. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted. Not now, not when he was in the middle of a battle. If he got too distracted, he could lose a limb or have his head bitten off.

Or, as he would later piece together, if Douxie got too distracted a normal human could hit him with a taser, knock him out, and kidnap him.

Krel let out a sound that might’ve been considered a scream of frustration had it been louder. The Mothership had been fixed! They should have left sooner, but no, they had stuck around on this mudball so that Krel could have made his mark on the humans of Arcadia Oaks. Kleb, that decision was so stupid! They should have just left. His family and Zadra would be safely hiding, and the traitor would be exiled in a place that Aja and Krel would know about.

He would never admit it to anyone, but Krel had been so stupid. Stupid, and egotistical, and so many other things he wouldn’t dare to admit to anyone.

Krel stood up and stretched. Ricky and Lucy were always trying to tell him that fresh air was good for him. It was a fault in their programing, to try and be parents to the human versions of Aja and Krel, since Akiridions didn’t need to breathe. How could the freshness of the air affect him? Moreover, how could the unfiltered air outside be fresher than the air inside?

But after all these horvaths of trying and failing, Krel would take their more-than-likely faulty advice.

Zadra was arguing with Ricky and Lucy, so Krel was able to sneak around her. Aja was closer to the door, talking on her phone.

“One moment, Steve,” she said before pressing the phone to her chest. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure you’ll be safe?”

“Yes, Aja.” He held up his serrator. “I’ll be fine. Don’t tell Zadra.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, before going back to talking to Steve. Ugh, hopefully they weren’t planning on doing more K-I-S-S-ING.

Krel exited the Mothership, looking up at the evening sky. Given how far they were from the city, Krel could just make out the beginnings of stars, as well as the brighter, more constant glow of the other planets in this system and the moon. The sky was so different here, compared to home. If he really focused, maybe he could figure out which star was nearest to home, but from so far away he would probably need some of the Mothership’s help.

Krel sighed. He didn’t need to, since he didn’t need to breathe, but it did have a calming effect. Huh. Perhaps Ricky and Lucy were right. The outdoor air was helping him.

Maybe Earth wasn’t too bad. They had to constantly hide, and it was a primitive planet, but Krel felt like he was starting to understand it. Leaving would throw the bounty hunters off their trail, yes, but it would also be a new set of social rules to learn.

Likewise, maybe it was nice that the Mothership had landed so far from the city, instead amongst all the trees. No pesky humans were there to watch Krel in his true form and talk about how all aliens wanted to suck humans’ brains out through their ears. He wouldn’t need to hide like this.

He tripped over a tree root.

Stupid. This planet was so stupid, and so were trees. Krel couldn’t wait to leave this stupid, stupid mudball.

Krel picked himself up, dusting himself off. Home didn’t have dirt. The Mothership didn’t have dirt. He hated it. Its texture was so gritty and frustrating. Stupid mudball made of dirt. Oh, why had he left the nice, clean Mothership?

Krel began to turn around when he saw bright orange through the trees. He would be best off ignoring it. As the past delson had proved, Earth was a very strange place, with things that Krel didn’t need to investigate.

But he was curious. Besides, it could be a threat.

He walked towards it. He wouldn’t get too close, just close enough to take a picture and tell Aja so she and…

Oh, kleb, he was going to have to tell Zadra that he snuck out.

He stepped on a twig. As it snapped loudly, he realized the orange formed the shape of a bipedal, two-armed life being.

It wasn’t the first time Krel had been electrocuted, but it was the first time he was knocked out because of it.

It had been a long time since Douxie had had to sleep cold, in threadbare clothes and sitting up, pressed against a wall. And never had he been alone; even as a street rat he’d had Archie. Then again, the last time he had been in this position, it had been on rough stones with space to stretch his legs and only the light of the stars, moon, and perhaps a distant home washing upon him.

He had awoken in a glass tube with an aching back and dressed in a thin white hospital gown and a pair of cuffs around his wrists with strange green flashing lights on them. Overwhelming green light lit the tube from multiple angles, and no matter how Douxie turned his head the light was always in his eyes. He’d tried to talk to the few, orange-suited figures walking around, but they had all ignored him. He wasn’t sure how long he had been here, but he had started to become hungry when the orange-suited figures had tossed a four-armed, blue-skinned person into the formerly empty tube that had been near Douxie. Douxie’s first instinct was to assume this person was a troll, but the person had been glowing blue before the green light of the adjacent tube had washed it out. Troll bodies didn’t glow.

Who or what was this person?

Krel came to with an aching shoulder. It felt like he had messed up on the wiring and –

And he’d been electrocuted by it. Or by the figure in the woods. They had been wearing orange, like the scientists of…

Krel opened his eyes to the green lighting of Area 49-B.

No.

No.

Oh, kleb, no!

Krel looked around. Had they gotten to Aja and Zadra? Or worse, Mama and Papa? What about –

Krel grit his teeth. If they had found the traitor, and Varvatos had told these humans roughly where to find the Mothership, then Krel would kill him, Aja’s pardon be klebbed by Seklos and Gaylen.

“So, you’re finally awake.”

Krel’s head snapped to the direction of the voice. There was a human, trapped in a similar cage to Krel’s. “Why are you here? You’re human.”

Well, was Douxie human like this person thought Douxie was? That was a question that both magic and mortals had been arguing about since long before Douxie’s birth. It seemed that the orange-suited figures thought that Douxie was too magic to be human, and they were the ones doing the trapping.

“I mean, I don’t exactly know where here is. You do?” Despite the fear coursing through his system, Douxie felt the smallest of smiles beginning to form on his lips. He wasn’t completely alone.

[malkumtend]

I Like Your Laugh (A SquirrelCrow AU) - Chapter 20.

For the first time in moons, Crowpaw was hungry.

Hunting had been as pointless as Tallstar had claimed. With the roar of monsters, as well as the lingering stink of Twolegs, prey was impossible to find. Worse than that, Crowpaw had seen those pale fleshed creatures skulking around the ruins of his home, carrying their storm of destruction with them.

They would mark the few trees left with a haze of red mist, and then bite into the thick bark with long silver claws. The crash of the wood as it slammed into the torn ground sent a tremble over Windclan. Every collision caused Crowpaw’s heart to tremble.

At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before the whole forest fell.

Hunting had been a fruitless effort. Crowpaw was the only one who had caught anything, but two withered shrew was not going to help the clans. Onewhisker had looked relieved at the mere sight of prey, and the way he praised Crowpaw was like he had caught a dozen hares.

“Well done, Crowpaw.” Onewhisker purred weakly as the hunting patrol made their way back. “That catch will help feed the kits another night.”

Nightcloud had mewed in agreement, her own face brightened at the stale scent of the shrews. Crowpaw had expected Webfoot to snarl the group back to reality, but the tom didn’t have a word to say, just a small grave nod.

Crowpaw attempted a small meow of thanks, but his throat instantly felt dry. The shrews hardly made up enough space to fill his mouth. Was this really all they could rely on to feed the starving kits and elders? He tried to not let this realisation mark his face with horror. It would do no good for anyone. Despite everything, the group was trying to keep some kind of determination; Crowpaw couldn’t kill that.

“Looks like all that travelling did some good for you, hey?” Nightcloud meowed, tapping his side with her tail. Under the darkening sky, her eyes lit up like pink embers. “You almost look like a natural hunter.”

Crowpaw nodded mildly, hoping the sound his throat made sounded more like a laugh than a groan.

“Don’t tease him, Nightcloud.” Onewhisker sighed tiredly, “We need all the prey we can find.”

“I was being serious.” The black molly insisted. “I wasn’t making fun of him.”

Onewhisker muttered something incoherent. Just looking at his back, it was clear that the tom had been discouraged by the hunt. As thankful as he was that some prey was caught for the kits that needed it so desperately, it was clear it would be a while before the thinning bodies of the Warriors got any end to their slow suffering.

Looking back at his still firm body, Crowpaw felt his growing hunger twist into guilt. He was nowhere near in the right to complain about prey.

Even standing besides the group, Crowpaw felt like he didn’t belong, didn’t deserve, to be there. By all means, he was able enough to get through the night without prey. Just how many queens, kits and elders had been forced to resign themselves to that fate.

The night air refused to respond to his question, it just scratched him with its freezing claws.

Once he’d taken the prey back, he’d have to find Tallstar. The time was approaching. Soon he would have to stand beside his…acquaintances from the other clans, hoping that they would receive a sign that told them where to go from here.

Crowpaw had never been so desperate to know an answer in all his life.

If any of the clans waited any longer, Crowpaw was certain that Windclan wouldn’t survive the next moon. Hunger, dehydration, and destruction was all that they would find here. Tallstar understood that, thankfully; Crowpaw could only hope the other clans would as well.

Unfortunately, the apprentice didn’t know whether they would share his clan’s sentiments.

He thought about what Tawnypelt and Stormfur would have to deal with when it came to their leaders. It didn’t matter how much they screamed the truth to their clans, ultimately it was up to Blackstar and Leopardstar if their clans moved or not. The Shadowclan leader would not be swayed easily. His pride was significantly excruciating from what Crowpaw remembered from previous gatherings.

And Leopardstar. At the thought of her, Crowpaw couldn’t help but feel fury prickle over his pelt. Tallstar had openly pleaded, putting all of his pride aside for his clan, the Riverclan leader to let them use the lake to drink. They hadn’t done that for nothing! Cats had needed that water then, it was essential now! Crowpaw thought the clans had reached an understanding.

Apparently not.

Leopardstar, based on the word of some no-clan stray who had sauntered his way into Riverclan, had pretty much left Windclan for dead. She had left every one of them to suffer on their own. Crowpaw knew that Windclan had taken some prey every now and then, but it certainly wasn’t enough that Riverclan would notice it was gone! Windclan needed to survive too!

But no. Whoever this Hawkfrost was, he had convinced Leopardstar that Windclan had earnt such a punishment! Did they not have cats of their own that were feeling the strains of these horrors? Could they really look at those cats and feed them, knowing that they had refused another clan such a necessity?! Crowpaw knew that Leopardstar was a cat who was frosty on her best days, but could she really be that cruel? If she trusted Windclan so little, who was to say she wouldn’t refuse to follow them to a new home?

Could Stormfur even convince her? He hadn’t even been the one who was…

Oh.

Oh Stars… no.

Crowpaw almost paused where he stood. Only walking on when he saw a concerned glint in Nightcloud’s eyes as he wobbled forward.

“Are you okay?”

Well, let’s see. He had left his clan to suffer, including his mother, while the home their entire clan had been rooted in for eons was being torn apart like it was nothing but sand, he had disgraced his father’s trust and was reminded of that with every disapproving flare of the stars above, and he might have ruined the clans hopes of getting Riverclan to follow them on their journey, destroying the history of the four clans themselves with a single paw, all because he hadn’t been the one who had rightfully died on that journey.

Did he mention it was his fault that an innocent cat, one of his best friends, had died to save his worthless pelt?

Crowpaw dipped his head at Nightcloud and she took that as a yes.

“Of course he’s okay.” Webfoot muttered, an audible curl on his lip. “He’s gotten everything he wanted.”

Crowpaw’s eyes snapped open.

“Webfoot!” Onewhisker turned his head to the tom with a warning growl. “Don’t you start any trouble.”

Webfoot grunted, “Why? He’s allowed to because he’s an apprentice.”

Crowpaw spat the shrews out of mouth, erupting with a snarl. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He demanded. There was a monster at the back of his head screaming at him to get into the tom’s face. “Gotten what I wanted? Are you trying to say that I wanted two-legs to come here?”

Nightcloud ran her tail over Crowpaw’s back. “Calm down.” Crowpaw ignored her, his eyes caught in a glare with the tom ahead of him.

Webfoot ignored the death stare that Onewhisker sent him. His eyes slid away from Crowpaw, disgusted. “No. But you got Tallstar to believe your stories. I bet you’re really proud to have that kind of influence.” He sounded like he was spitting out muck as he spoke.

Now, the demands to cause harm raced into a roar. Crowpaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Webfoot really think he was that shallow? “This isn’t about that at all, you piece of fox-dung!” Crowpaw’s shouting echoed over the hills. “It’s about-”

“Enough!” Onewhisker got between the two toms, hissing. “Both of you!”

Crowpaw was affronted, “He’s the one who-”

“I know that!” Onewhisker snapped, his stern snarl made Crowpaw cower away. “But Windclan doesn’t need the two of you fighting! If we have any hope of getting through this, we need to work together as a clan!” He turned back to Webfoot, his backfur prickling. “And we certainly don’t need any cats questioning the decisions of their leader!”

Webfoot frowned, one fang slipping over his lip. “That’s not what I was-”

“Quiet!” Onewhisker ordered. “Listen to me, Webfoot! I don’t care if you, or any cat for that matter, doesn’t believe in Crowpaw’s sign! If Tallstar decides that Windclan needs to move, that is what we will be doing!” The skinny tom took a pounding step towards Webfoot. “If you have an issue with that, then I’d be happy to take you to discuss it with Tallstar.” He dared with a snap of his teeth. It sounded like breaking a rabbit’s neck.

The panic Webfoot displayed was brief, but it was telling. His tail sank to the floor like a bird falling out of its nest. To his, limited, credit he kept his face straight. That was just all the more infuriating for Crowpaw.

“There’s no need for that.” Webfoot drawled. He lashed a look at Crowpaw. “And please don’t misunderstand, I hope that Crowpaw is right in what he says.” His eyes narrowed snakily. “If he’s wrong, who knows what would happen to Windclan.”

Crowpaw growled to not show weakness.

Like most things he did these days, it repressed the way his body shook at the words.

“Well then,” Nightcloud stepped forward, her claws unsheathed. “Why don’t you shut up and believe in him like Tallstar does, you waste of fur!”

“Nightcloud!” Onewhisker hissed, “What did I just say about fighting?”

The molly scoffed, muttering a fake apology as she looked away. Webfoot didn’t reply, he had apparently decided he’d said enough.

And it was enough that Crowpaw got the point.

Onewhisker maintained a strained silence between the cats, before he let out a croaky sigh. He sounded like he was releasing the pain from his weakening joints. “Let’s not waste anymore time.” He frowned over at Crowpaw. “Pick up those shrews. There are cats who need them.”

Crowpaw looked down to where he’d spat out the sorry excuses for prey, and his heart dropped with disgrace. Those shrews could be what separated a cat from life and death, and he’d spat them out like some kittypet sulking at a two-leg. A horrible, regretful embarrassment clouded over the cat. He stuttered over his own selfishness.

“I-I’m sorry, Onewhisker.”

Onewhisker gave him a hard look that was hard to describe. It made Crowpaw uneasy. The older cat’s whiskers shook with a grunt. “Sorry doesn’t feed cats. Now pick up that prey and make sure you don’t drop it again until you’re in front of someone who needs it!”

Crowpaw dipped his head. The knowledge that his actions made him a liability sent him cold. “Yes, Onewhisker.” Carefully, he picked the shrews up again. When he looked up, Onewhisker was already strolling off, soon followed by Webfoot. The tom made sure to swipe his tail at Crowpaw before he turned away with a malicious scoff.

Crowpaw stared in their direction, then he began to follow them. What else could he do? He couldn’t blame Onewhisker for his fury, the cat had been struggling to make sure Windclan didn’t fall. If Crowpaw didn’t know any better he could have assumed that the cat was the Deputy.

He couldn’t even blame Webfoot really. Well… no. The cat was a fox-heart who had no right to claim those things about him. Crowpaw would never want any of this. But he could see how it looked. An apprentice that had ran away and come back without a reason he could prove and had convinced their leader to follow his advice. It made sense that Webfoot wouldn’t trust him.

That just worked to make Crowpaw feel worse.

If it made sense, then just how much could his clan trust him? How much could he trust himself to save them from an agonising fate?

Searching for those answers was like swimming through fog and ice.

A sympathetic purr rumbled at his side. Nightcloud was looking at him softly. “Don’t pay any attention to Webfoot. He’s always been a burr-furred mange pelt.”

If Crowpaw could open his mouth, he might have muttered a thanks to her. He kept silent. It didn’t matter really. He still ended up thinking, ‘Just because he’s a mange pelt, it doesn’t mean he’s wrong.’ Webfoot’s intentions, no matter what mouse-bile he spewed, were clear. He didn’t forgive Crowpaw for abandoning Windclan. He wanted to punish the apprentice, however he could.

Crowpaw had done everything he thought was right.

Crowpaw had done everything for the purpose of helping Windclan.

But that didn’t exclude the idea that maybe… he deserved to be punished.

“Hey?” Nightcloud murmured, “Do you want me to carry one of those for you?”

She was offering to help him carry some measly shrews?

Did he actually look that pathetic?

He shook his head. She watched him patiently, as if hopeful he would change his mind, before turning away with a sigh. She didn’t need to help him. Any burden for the clan was one Crowpaw deserved to carry.

The thought didn’t leave Crowpaw even when he returned to the ‘camp’ Windclan had fashioned, not when Nightcloud pointed to him the tattered base of an old rabbit warren where they were sheltering the kits, not when the dark molly gave him a well-natured touch with her muzzle, and not when he slowly walked past his clanmates, all scarred, starving, or both, trying their best to get some rest in this terrible place.

His good intentions did not change everything that had happened because of him. Even as he walked by his clanmates, he could hear the gravelly whispers all around him. They didn’t sound happy. Crowpaw almost looked like he was trying to hide his head between his shoulders, unspeakably afraid to catch any cat’s gaze. If he turned and saw every cat view him with hatred, he didn’t know if he could carry on walking.

He cursed himself for looking so pathetic. He could only imagine what cats were thinking. He didn’t want to picture what they’d think when Tallstar revealed why he’d truly been gone. This shaking, moody apprentice was what their fates rested on.

Perhaps the forest would be the more honourable way to die.

Unlatching himself from these thoughts was like scratching at a rock. The truth came on him, refusing to let him go. He deserved the looks. He deserved the hate. And if he was being honest, he would have deserved Webfoot finishing him off with a bite to his throat. Admitting these things was almost relieving for the cat, like he was finally facing the inevitable.

He had given Windclan the message they needed.

What use – what good - was he to them anymore?

“Where are you going?”

Crowpaw jolted where he stood, his ears drifting back fearfully. He slowly met the eyes of his mentor. Mudclaw was looking down at him irritably, the night made his amber eyes flicker. Crowpaw could barely move as he remembered how the Deputy had been earlier. How he had not believed Crowpaw’s explanation and had looked betrayed when his leader did.

Mudclaw growled into the silence. “You should drop what you have in your mouth if you’re going to answer.”

Crowpaw could barely meet Mudclaw’s gaze as he gently dropped the shrews. “I was… I was going to take these to the Queens. That way the kits can get some milk.”

Mudclaw rolled his eyes, “I’m aware of how feeding kits works, Crowpaw.” He sounded as gruff as he looked. His back wasn’t spiked, but it still looked jagged and rough, like sand under a blistering sun. His face was dull with fatigue. “Good hunting I see?” He said, his voice dreadfully sarcastic.

Crowpaw dropped his head again. Even before leaving for the journey, there was nothing that made him curl up like the disappointment of his mentor. “There wasn’t much to catch.”

“I know that as well.” Mudclaw said, “I suppose that’s another reason we need to leave, hmm?” The sarcasm swiped again.

Crowpaw didn’t say anything. There would be no good response to that.

Mudclaw peered down at the shrews, sitting down and stretching his forelegs with a groan. “Truth be told, it is not easy to find prey around here. I had hoped that after a few days we would know where we could find some again.” His voice dimmed. “Regretfully, there hasn’t been much success.” He sniffed at the shrews and, to Crowpaw’s surprise, his mentor let out a laugh that almost sounded glad. “Not much of a mouthful, but at least they’re fresh.”

Whether it was the bleak praise of his mentor, or the idea that his actions could have been of any good in the first place, a calm purr rumbled in Crowpaw’s throat.

“Luckily,” Mudclaw started again, grooming his shoulder with snappy bites. “You won’t have to choose between a Queen to feed. Only Whitetail hasn’t received prey since yesterday. Thankfully, you’ve changed that.”

Whitetail. Realisation rushed through the apprentice. So that was why Onewhisker looked so happy to see the prey. His own mate could finally get the kill she needed for their kits.

“I’m… I’m glad I could help somehow.”

“Was there really nothing else to find?”

Crowpaw mewed sadly, “Nothing. And we won’t be able to scent anything now. The only smell around here is the stink of those monsters.”

Mudclaw hissed behind his teeth. “Fox-dung to it all.” Crowpaw could have been frightened by how grave his mentor sounded. Defeat was not something he had ever been able to associate with his leader. The older cat grumbled a moment more, before he stumbled over to his apprentice. Crowpaw tried not to flinch as the cat smelt his pelt.

“Well,” Mudclaw’s voice was low, but not hard. “At the very least, you saw more of this territory.” He scoffed humourlessly, “You almost smell like Windclan again.”

Crowpaw knew better than to show how much those words sank into him.

Mudclaw padded back, studying his apprentice with a narrowed expression. “I was thinking about what Webfoot said earlier.” He said slowly, “What did he mean when he mentioned that Thunderclan cat. Owlpaw sought me out to tell me that she…” Mudclaw let his words loosen as his stare hardened. Crowpaw knew what Mudclaw was going to ask about and a sheer sense of fear stalked into his chest. “Embraced you. Is that right?”

The night air was growing too cold for Crowpaw. Why else would his paws shake so much?

It wasn’t fair! He had nothing to feel guilty about! He never asked her to do that! He had tried to say goodbye without igniting any suspicion among the clans, he had been loyal and fair about it! It wasn’t his fault if she couldn’t take that. It wasn’t his paws that had pulled her so close to him! It wasn’t him who had left her scent all over him! He wasn’t to blame! She was!

And yet, despite all these things, he couldn’t find it in his chest to be angry at Squirrelpaw.

He knew he should. He knew that if he allowed the rage of how she had made him look disloyal compel him to just a hiss, it would retain the normalcy that he had to reclaim.

For both their sakes.

Fox-dung! Why were his thoughts on her side? Why was he still brought to concern over her?

“Yes.” Crowpaw said, his voice as strong as a cloud.

Mudclaw eased back slightly, but his gaze still burned. “Why would she do that? Are you two ‘friends’?” Mudclaw’s tail thumped down at the word.

Say no. That’s all he had to do.

“We were allies.” Crowpaw said. The feeling in his chest was softening the race of his brain. Something inside him told him to tell the truth, but to not give too much away. The worry in his heart was not for himself. “We had to be. We travelled together that long, after all.”

Mudclaw did not look satisfied. “That doesn’t answer why she did that once you were on Windclan territory.”

Crowpaw kept fixed on his mentor, but he thought he could see a twitch under the moonlight. Was it the refletion of a claw? Crowpaw breathed in softly. “She was just saying goodbye. She was wishing me luck.” He shrugged innocently, “I guess that’s just her way of doing that.”

Mudclaw sniffed, “Interesting way, if you ask me.” His stare still prickled on Crowpaw’s skin for a long time. Crowpaw held onto the grass under his feet, begging that somehow he wasn’t showing any weakness. If Mudclaw suspected something else, who knew what he would do? Crowpaw didn’t want to know what the cat did with cats he suspected were traitors.

Crowpaw wasn’t a traitor!

But… neither was Squirrelpaw.

Crowpaw knew, he just knew, that Squirrelpaw wouldn’t have done that if she thought she would get Crowpaw in trouble. They had been like that, close, throughout the journey. She wouldn’t have thought she was doing anything wrong by just hugging him one last time.

Suddenly, Crowpaw’s tongue felt dry. Of course, she wouldn’t have thought that. Because she hadn’t done anything wrong. She had just hugged a friend. Besides, Crowpaw, all those moons ago, had been the one to do it first, when the fear of losing her had made his eyes water. It had been him that had told her he wished to keep seeing her once this was all over.

His heart sank again.

Maybe… this was also his fault. If he had given her the idea that it was okay, even when they had returned, then could he blame her. If he’d had any sense, he would have shut the idea down there and then!

The idea of doing that filled his head again. The normal strain resolved. Clan life resumed. The disappointment that would have stung her expression. The way that saying no would make his own heart break.

Crowpaw’s closed his eyes with a quiet hiss. What was wrong with him?!

He swiftly looked up at his mentor again, ignoring the way he had risen a brow. If he wasn’t careful he would have given his friendship with Squirrelpaw away. And that would be a disaster for the both of them.

But didn’t he want to be punished? If he was truthful, and accepted responsibility, then wouldn’t that make him a real Warrior?

It was the idea of having Squirrelpaw punished as well that made him silence that thought.

She didn’t deserve that. Only he did.

“After she’d done that, I got her off me and told her to go back to Thunderclan where she was needed.” Crowpaw explained stonily. “That was it. Or did Owlpaw tell you differently?”

The stink of the monsters wafted over Windclan, as venomous as Mudclaw’s silence. The Deputy drummed his claws into the grass, fire still pure in his stare. “And that was all?” It sounded more like a threat than a question.

“That was all.”

Crowpaw must have sounded convincing, because Mudclaw blinked and he looked satisfied. “I see. And no, that does match what Owlpaw told me.” Crowpaw was kind of thankful that the apprentice had been truthful, at least. “That’s good. I was concerned that you’d forgotten your place.”

Place.

Not Clan.

Crowpaw shook his head, trying to look prideful. “Of course not, Mudclaw. The journey is over now, the only concern I have is for Windclan. The other’s will need to look out for their own clans.”

He hoped they could do that easier than he was finding it.

Mudclaw nodded, “I’m glad you know that, Crowpaw.” He let out a bitter chuckle, “If Thunderclan is lucky, maybe that molly realise the same.”

Crowpaw hoped that she did too. But that didn’t stop his claws from tensing unconsciously. He drew them back in before his mentor noticed, screaming inwardly to follow his own words.

“Hopefully.” Crowpaw managed to say. “If the Clans are to survive the journey, they’ll need to.”

Mudclaw looked irritable again. “Ah yes. You’ll need to find Tallstar soon, won’t you?”

Crowpaw grit his teeth as he realised his stupidity. He’d forgotten Mudclaw’s feelings about their travels. “I-I swear that this is the right decision, Mudclaw.” He meowed. The older cat didn’t look his way, his neck fur swaying in the icy breeze. “Windclan will survive if we do this, I promise.”

Mudclaw shrugged with a scoff, “Well, you’ve convinced Tallstar of that. I suppose that’s all that matters!” Crowpaw tried to be sympathetic to the Deputy as he remembered the way Tallstar had shut Mudclaw’s objections down. Crowpaw believed that Mudclaw’s suspicions were driven by his concern for Windclan, and it wouldn’t be easy for any cat to abandon their home when they didn’t see a need to.

Still, Mudclaw needed to trust in Starclan. Trust in Crow… Trust in Tallstar’s decision.

“I’m not lying to you.” Crowpaw meowed, “There is a better place somewhere.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Crowpaw drew back sharply, taken aback. Mudclaw stared out, as if over the whole of the clan. His jaw was tight as his eyes creased with frustration. “I can see that our home is being destroyed. Of course, there is some place where we can go. Silverpelt does not shine over just the flowers, after all. But it’s whether we can make such a journey that bothers me!”

Crowpaw’s jaw slowly dipped from his mouth. It was rare he heard such apprehension from his mentor. He almost sounded pained.

“Cats haven’t eaten or drank for close to a moon, and when we have it’s just been those kind of catches,” He lashed his tail to the dirty shrews, “Everywhere I look, my clanmates are suffering and I can’t see how telling them to wander through the forest will help them in anyway!”

Crowpaw now saw the real mortification on his mentor’s face. Windclan was the only thing in Mudclaw’s mind. “If we stay here, we’ll all die.” Crowpaw said morosely, “I know it sounds crazy, but there isn’t anything else we can do.”

Mudclaw rolled his eyes. “I think there are many options we have, Crowpaw.” The older cat drawled, “But like I said, it doesn’t matter now. Tallstar agrees with you, and if he decides to go then I will have to follow my leader to the end.”

Crowpaw may have felt hope if not for the grave frown on the Deputy’s face.

“However,” His voice was low, “I fear that Tallstar may be approaching that end already.”

His words were like being torn apart limb from limb. Freezing horror wrapped all over Crowpaw. Surely Mudclaw wasn’t suggesting what he thought he was. “What do you mean?”

Mudclaw narrowed his eyes, but his muzzle creased with upset. “Crowpaw, you’re not a mouse-brain. You have seen Tallstar since you came back here, and you and I both know that he is not… well.”

Truthfully, Crowpaw had noticed it. He was sure any cat would. The way the leader coughed after a mere sentence, the way he had relied on Onewhisker’s side to walk strong, how when he spoke it sounded as if rocks were cutting into his throat. It was true. Tallstar did not look well at all.

“He may keep strong for now, but he is not getting stronger with every moon that passes.” Mudclaw gazed up at the hollow light of the moon above them, his eyes bleak with thought. “If he can’t do that in his own clan, I fail to see how travelling would not make things worse. Additionally, if the other clans saw him in that state they would use it for their own advantage, of that I’m certain.” His teeth grit with the last line.

Crowpaw’s mouth opened but he couldn’t find the correct words. The idea that this journey could cause his leader to… His gaze found the ground again, dilated and afraid. “The…The other clans wouldn’t do that.” He hated how uncertain he sounded. “We have to work together if we…”

“Your logic makes sense, Crowpaw.” Mudclaw cut him off, stepping forward with a sigh. There was such a sense of authority in his step that Crowpaw had to step back. “But you cannot speak for the other clans or how they think. No matter how much you may have trusted those cats on your journey, there will always be those…” A low growl rumbled in his chest, “That will grin at the sight of weakness. Without a strong leader, we are vulnerable, and when that happens we can’t afford to lose our freedom for the sake of some temporary peace!” He stepped beside Crowpaw, pressing his tail hard into his side. “It may be the worst scenario, but it is there nonetheless. Windclan needs its Warriors to remember what side they’re on, they need to be willing to fight for that. Can I trust you to do that if the time comes?”

He spoke of a future that no one could truly understand. No one knew what was on its way.

But, by the Stars, Crowpaw was scared of how convincing Mudclaw sounded.

It made perfect sense after all. The clans had been rivals for generations. Before the journey, if Crowpaw had known that a leader from the enemy was sick, he would have howled with laughter at the idea of that clan becoming weaker. He could expect as much from them. Those feelings surely couldn’t just disappear because they were forced into this terrible partnership.

But when he thought of the journey. When he imagined the faces of his… He couldn’t, didn’t want to, imagine that they would do something like that after everything they’d been through.

But then… maybe that was the problem.

Maybe that showed how backwards Crowpaw had become.

It was time to face facts. There was no hope that anything real could survive with the cats he’d known. Their very nature wouldn’t allow it. Besides, Crowpaw had not been of any real use to them.

Feathertail hadn’t come home because of him.

No, with them… It would be better if they just never saw him again once all this was done.

He’d forgotten his loyalty, the loyalty ingrained in his blood, and he knew Windclan would not hesitate to remind him of that in the future. And that was fine.

He deserved to pay for everything he’d done. To every clan.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to be of use while he awaited that punishment.

Windclan deserved better than him, and they could get better than he ever was, but he still needed to work for them when they needed it. This was his one chance to do some real good in his life.

He needed to make sure Windclan knew he was loyal. He needed to make sure his previous friends knew where his loyalty really was. If they couldn’t grasp that, then he needed to remind them of it. They had all hated him at the start. He needed to make sure it was like that once again.

Even though… he didn’t think he could ever hate them again.

But that was why he needed to keep the line clear. Once they were all back to normal in their clans, it had to get better for them. They deserved that kind of ending.

That was why they couldn’t be friends anymore.

So when he suddenly found himself thinking of Squirrelpaw and her cheeky, amazing smile, he let the guilt and self-revulsion take him over. He accepted the sickness in his stomach and called it disloyalty.

If he wanted her to be safe, he needed to shut her away.

Even when the thought of that made his sickness worse.

“Yes, Mudclaw.” Crowpaw said, his voice hollow and found.

Mudclaw stepped away, his eyes never leaving Crowpaw. His eyes blazed like an owl’s. “Good. It’s important you understand what’s right if we find ourselves in that situation.”

“I understand.” Crowpaw said, dipping his head.

A real sound of contentment left Mudclaw. Crowpaw tried to let it ease him. “Excellent.” There was a long silence after that. Then a heavy exhale exited the Deputy and Crowpaw felt a tail smooth over his back. “I do hope that you’re right about this journey, Crowpaw. There is nothing I want more than for my clan to survive.”

Crowpaw sensed a ‘but’ so he didn’t take that as acceptance.

“But, just remember where your real allies are if the time comes. Understand?”

Crowpaw hated that he was right. He couldn’t speak this time so he just nodded his head.

Mudclaw made a pleased mrrow. “Now, take your prey to Whitetail and then go and find Tallstar. The sooner we have a real plan, the better. No matter what happens.” Something was hidden in how he said that, but he was gone before the chill had found Crowpaw’s tail.

He realised it was stupid to think about that.

Mudclaw was his Deputy. Mudclaw was Windclan. That made him an ally. That was where his trust needed to be.

Crowpaw picked up the prey again and strode quickly to the stinking, damaged warren. Sure enough, Whitetail was there. Her eyes were dark with exhaustion and sorrow as she listened to the three small kits at her belly cry hungrily as they suckled for milk that wasn’t there.

Crowpaw’s heart ached. No wonder Onewhisker accepted his story so easily. Anything was better than this.

Whitetail slowly lifted her head as Crowpaw approached. Suddenly, her eyes flickered open as a high mew of relief escaped her mouth. “Crowpaw!” She cried. “You have prey!”

Crowpaw dropped the shrews beside the molly, he tried not to look at how her ribs jutted when she moved to grab them. “That’s all we could find. I’m sorry there isn’t more.”

Whitetail shot him a wide-eyed glance, purring happily. “Don’t be mouse-brained! This is wondeful!” She stared down at the shrews like they were a pile of hares, then she nuzzled the kits closer to her belly. “Just wait a little longer, my darlings. I’ll soon have some milk for you.” Her eyes shone with love and when she smiled it looked like something she had almost forgotten how to do. “What do we say to Crowpaw?”

The kits mewed again, huddling to their mother for warmth.

Whitetail let out a soft mutter, laughing was too difficult these days. “They say thank you.”

Crowpaw dipped his head respectfully, “Tell them that they don’t need to. Any Warrior would do the same.” His eyes gently lifted to the white molly’s. “Also, let them know that whatever prey is given to me will be yours.”

An incredible gasp erupted from the Queen. “Don’t be ridiculous! I can’t accept that!”

“Yes you can.” Crowpaw said simply, “They need it more than me.”

“Crowpaw, that’s honourable of you to say so. But you are still an apprentice.” Her face was pure with gratitude. “You need your strength as well.”

“I’m strong enough as I am.” I don’t deserve to eat. “You look like you haven’t eaten for moons. You need to eat, I can survive without food for a few days.”

“Crowpaw, I-”

“With all due respect, Whitetail.” The apprentice said softly, lightly brushing his tail over the kits. “I’ve made up my mind. You won’t change it.”

Whitetail was silent with shock. Her face was a mix of awe and uncertainty. Crowpaw didn’t give her  the chance to argue further. “Sleep well.” He said, to her and her kits. Then he rose up and turned away. He needed to find Tallstar now. Moonhigh was not far away.

“Crowpaw!”

Crowpaw sighed, but he kept calm as he turned back to the starving mother.

Her smile was a white as her fur, and notably overcome with joyful appreciation. She took a bite out of her shrew and then ran her tongue slowly over her kit’s small pelts, happier than she had been in moons. “I’m glad you’re back. Windclan missed you.”

That wasn’t true, Crowpaw thought. But he nodded, feeling underserving of such kindness.

“I’ll do anything for Windclan.”

What else could he do?

If he didn’t he might as well not be alive.

[the-last-cuddlebender]

When Aang Was

When Aang was hurting, he became a walking wound. His reflection turned into a stranger. His smiles got a bit bigger—his magician’s one-liner to hide his slight-of-hand—, but he couldn’t keep himself above water forever. Even he sometimes forgot that he lost everything and everyone, and forgetting turned remembering into daggers through each of his lungs. It stole his air—his element, his last connection to them. 

...the Gaang have a few things to say about that.

And Aang’s family would be damned if they let him bleed alone.

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A/N: The Gaang will walk backwards into hell if it means they can give Aang a hug when he needs one. This was HIGHLY inspired by this beautiful photoset by @imreallyhereforkataang💕 because Yin and Yang make me soft for the airbean I stg. (also special thanks to @demigodseameg16‘s fic request for putting orphan!Aang on my mind!) (also, also, this is my first time writing Mai so ya-hoooo) 

Rating: T 

Words: 5,074

ArchiveOfOurOwn (AO3)

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When Aang was happy, he talked really fast. His master’s tattoos lost meaning. He tripped over his own feet—graceless but playful—and laughed like giggles were more vital than breathing.

He was an airborne contagion that no one could escape. His family were patient zero, and, almost four years after the war, his quest for world domination was nearly complete. Peace was proven with the smiles he nurtured in others, and his empire of friends and friendly acquaintances circled the globe a dozen times over.

Their symptoms of Aang were chronic—their cheeks always hurt, their middles never stopped aching, he hid their breath behind hurdles of giggles and slap-fights about the absurd...

The list went on and on, just like the peel of his laugh and the warm feeling he left in his wake.

If only the world could see him when he curled up like a cat in its favorite sunny spot every time he lounged across the fuddy-duddy Firelord’s lap. If only the world could see him when Suki caught him using her good makeup—the expensive kind she saved for formal occasions—and the monstrosities he made of his and Sokka’s faces. If only the world could see him when he sent messages to Sokka saying they were from Toph demanding a rematch of whatever they were practicing lately.

Mai didn’t exactly help. She graded his antics with a rubric and gave him feedback, to boot. She refined his nonsense like a blade on a grindstone for greater impact and outcome every time.

The world definitely saw him when he and his lifeline went out in public. He guided Katara down an invisible red carpet every time, and he announced his befuddled Moon’s presence without having to say a single word. He adored getting her flustered—his Mighty Katara—and seeing the beautiful color she turned into. He especially loved the sharp smacks she swatted his shoulder with. He adored her puffed cheeks and her face’s valiant attempts to scowl at him. She hid in his arms from something that wasn’t embarrassment, and Aang kissed her hair at another mission accomplished.

But even if they were ever ‘cured’ of him, his family knew they would never be rid of him. Aang was a master of his craft. His hugs were blue ink, his understanding was his steady hand, and his shoulder to lean or to cry on was a thousand fine needles. His tattoos were unseen but brighter than the sunset’s reflection when the Ocean was in a good mood.

To the world, he was a cure, but, to his family, he was a vice. Neither his better half nor his siblings could shake his grip on them, no matter how hard they rolled their eyes and shooed him away. He saw their pursed lips and grumpy looks as something they wore and that he could take off of them. He found the cracks in their armor like he was a thief turning lock tumblers, and he dug his hands into where they hid their joy.

He was a purple pentapus in airbender robes clinging to their arms, their legs, and their backs. He was their goofy little brother and their grinning parasite, and they wouldn’t have him any other way.

They loved his smile, despite how badly it crippled them. His joy was so second nature that his good feelings became as essential as Mother Nature. The flowers weren’t pretty if Aang wasn’t smiling. He was their greatest weakness—the biggest, happiest, dorkiest chink in their armor.

May the Spirits help the next person who tried to kill him.

Katara would not be held back a second time.

Toph would find someone who needed some punishment if she was left out of ‘the fun’ again.

(Sokka tracked the bastard down, and Suki caught him without—just barely without—snuffing him out)

(Zuko held Aang’s head in his lap while Katara patched up what was broken and tugged his bleeding spirit back into him)

(None of them knew what to do when his fever hit critical. He started talking to people—children, mentors...family—who had been dead for over a century. The six of them were worse than lost when their seventh begged for his old family to talk back to him. He was sorry. He was so, so sorry. He missed them so much—please, he missed them and he missed home so much—)

(When Aang was conscious two days later, Mai sat him down and taught him all that he didn’t want to know but all that he needed to learn about poisons)

...

Four years of healing were four years of silly smiles and cozy camp-outs in the Palace courtyard. Four years of new family were four years of new brothers and sisters discovering, together, what family really meant.

Four years of new family were four Fall seasons where and when nothing (seemingly) happened. Four years and four seasons of dead and dying things came and went like they were never there.

Four Fall seasons became four bundles of dead branches burned between Summer and Winter. A pile of ashes became a memory barely remembered and a nightmare never forgotten.

Four years and four fires were four times he slipped away, unseen, from the anniversary of the war that they ended. Four times he slipped away were four times left by himself with a feeling that was worse than alone.

Four temples and four Fall seasons were nothing more than marks on a map and a calendar.

In the room that Aang used to call his in the home that he used to call theirs was where he kept all of the ‘counts’. At first, he marked the things they missed, just tallies and names on the wall.

Four years and four Fall seasons meant four-thousand names and smudged scribbles of forgotten faces and places they might have thought were pretty. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and what was left of his heart wouldn’t stop breaking as he carved chalky tattoos, like unhealed scars, into the wall—the one with the window overlooking the places where he struggled to remember playing before.

He didn’t know he was forgetting them until he started having trouble remembering them. The tallies were lives lost, the dashes were shadows without faces, and the names of his family—the names of his old family…—decorated the head of the bed that he used to call his. 

He left them notes like they could read them and asked them questions like they might respond.

Four years and four Fall seasons meant nothing to him. He lost everything and everyone in the blink of an eye.

Aang tried not to stay at the temple, especially if he was alone. Thinking alone was dangerous. His thoughts were wild and threatened to burn him.

He made the mistake, once, of walking past the hidden hall that he and his friends—his old family...—used when they sewed chaos into the weave of their home. The hall was stuffed with fond memories but so poorly constructed—so narrow—that it only allowed enough room for a one-way direction to and from the outside.

It was a charred hole with a sooty-black throat that greedily swallowed his shadow. The blackened stone was melted—glassy—and smelled like the instinct to run.

It wasn’t until Aang got back to his family—his new family…—that he imagined his newest nightmare.

It wasn’t his new family’s fault. They weren’t the ones on the festival ride just to his left and screaming into his ear.

Aang’s empty stomach turned inside-out, and he dry-heaved so hard that he couldn’t breathe. It was a strange feeling, struggling for air, having his element all around him but kept just out of his reach.

Those few seconds of breathlessness turned the ground black and the sky into dirt, but someone caught him before his knees buckled. Someone else was patting him from head to toe with tender touches that left no part of him unturned.

His family were worried sick—sicker than he felt. They asked him in a million different ways and in a million concerned voices if he was okay.

Aang struggled to smile for them. It took him four or so tries to get it right. He couldn’t do anything about his shaking, though.

“Can...Can we go home, now?” He whispered his trembling words like they were secrets never meant to be said aloud. He looked at them like a wounded animal limping back to its master—a stray tucking its tail but crawling closer, desperate, with a broken smile peace-offering and a fit of flinches at any sharp sound. The beating was inevitable, but he pleaded for the chance to feel something soft before he was kicked again. He leaned into Katara’s hand, and he flinched and pressed harder when she was warm and real and didn’t move away from him.

He was their goofy little brother and their grinning parasite.

Aang fought his struggle to smile for them, and he trusted his big brother to carry the whole of his weight. Zuko was warm and familiar, and his gentle squeeze was a promise to not let go; Katara’s worried touches and soft kisses were safe, and she swarmed around Aang like a mobile shield.

Aang sensed their tensing. They were his family, after all. He always had two fingers on their happiness’ pulse.

Their questions were a distressed tidal wave.

He didn’t stop smiling even when he closed his eyes.

He couldn’t tell if the hushed voices he heard were from his new family in front of him or from his old family behind him. Aang remembered...

Aang rearranged his lips into what he remembered a smile felt like.

“Please? C’n we...Can we g-go home?” He opened one eye and found both of Katara’s waiting for him. She was horrified and concerned to tears, and she wasn’t the only one.

Aang almost sighed. His strength was bleeding out of him along with everything else. He struggled to keep smiling for her, and he struggled even harder to keep his eyes open. He flinched from the kicks that were their heartbroken looks, but he tried to give them a reason to smile. 

Zuko was really warm, though. And Katara’s hands felt really nice on Aang’s face.

The flame of his consciousness flickered—a candle left out in the rain.

“Please, K’tara?” He spoke without meaning to. It was an impulse, an instinct. It was the orphan and the last airbender crawling through the carnage and finally having a spot on the stage to speak.

Cold sweat beaded his brow, and frozen shivers shook his insides. He just wanted to go home, wherever or whenever that was. Everything was too blurry. He couldn’t remember anymore. 

Even his new family’s faces were blurry, now, and Aang’s element was torn out of him when his first choke on everything and everyone he lost freed the Oceans behind his eyes.

He just wanted to go home...

“...Please?”

Aang’s voice was the last of him to break, and his family all flinched like they could feel it. His shattered pieces fell all at once and shredded everything he knew and loved.

He curled his fingers into Zuko’s robe to keep himself above water. He shook like something dead about to be churned to ash and carried away—a forgotten memory—on an indifferent passing breeze.

...

When Aang was scared, he talked too fast. His sunshine-warm smile lost meaning. He hugged like he was trying to hold onto something, and he laughed a sound that rang hollow—distorted—like an echo returning from far away.

Toph was the first to notice. His heartbeat was...off. He acted like he was surprised by their group hugs, but the evidence of feeling anything was only skin-deep.

Aang was never happy. He didn’t get happy, either. Aang was happy. He and the word meant the same feeling like how the sun would always mean warmth.

Katara noticed it next—nearly in the same moment. She had no seismic sense, but his kiss wasn’t laden with giggles and his heart didn’t try to beat out of his chest to get to hers when she hugged him.

Suki saw it but didn’t tell the others. She was an elite warrior trained for years in the art of stealth. Aang was the White Dragon and White Lotus tile all in one, but he had a terrible poker face.

Five years marked the start of a new quartet and the shedding of all things old to welcome all things new. They knew Aang loved the festival of the anniversary of the war that they ended, but something was different this time.

Sokka’s instincts saw it coming. Zuko’s hearing picked up on it, too.

Toph won him a prize—a plate of pastries trying to be fruit cakes. Aang greedily ate them and said that he loved them.

His shoulders shook and said that he missed them.

His lip trembled and said that they scared him.

Suki touched between his shoulders and guided him towards something called ‘volleyball’. It was a three-on-three game.

None of them realized until they picked teams that Aang was no longer with them.

It was a three-on-three game.

There were seven in their family.

Mai cursed and cut the net before it could become a fire hazard, and she was barely fast enough to save the netting from turning to kindling when Zuko pulled his hair and charred the sand.

They found him an hour later by following the echoing huffs of Appa’s soft sounds.

Appa held him like he had to chase and pin him down, but Aang held him back like he could never hold on tight enough.

…

Hawky was a master navigator and a tool of military purpose.

Hawky was also distracted when he stopped in the Fire Nation Palace on his way to Aang’s room.

Hawky had never seen a turtleduck before. He was domestic and curious even though the mother turtleduck chased him off like he was a massive predator.

And that was exactly how Sokka found his old bird—soaked and waddling for his life.

There was a message in his pack.

Toph threw open her door to find whoever was about to die from such a fast heartbeat just as Sokka ran past, grabbed her, and sprinted them to the others.

Toph would have fought him if she wasn’t so confused.

Sokka didn’t cry that hard even at that time of year when some girl name Yue had to go away.

…

Hey, Gyatso!

I guess it’s been a hundred years, huh? That’s so weird to think about.

I’ve been meditating just like you taught me. Well, I think I’m doing it right. It’s hard to tell, anymore. I sit in front of the mirror to correct my stance, but it hasn’t felt right in a long time. It’s okay, though! I’ll figure something out. I’m sure there’s a prayer statue in one of the temples that’s still in one piece. I could always check in the mountains, too, but I don’t I can’t I’ll try to check the temples again, first.

A good friend told me yo the Air No all of the Guru Pathik said you’re not really gone, and I believe him.

It’s cold today. It rained, before, so new plants should be growing soon. You would really like it here.

Do you I I miss you. I try not to, but Guru Pathik said to let my emotions flow. He’s gone with you, though. It’s been two years, now.

I wish he He left befor Could you give him a hug from me when you see him?

I hope you don’t miss me, Gyatso. Missing people hurts a lot. I really hope you’re happy, Gyatso. I really, really do.

Please, please, please, don’t miss me.

I miss loved love you!

…

Hey, Gyatso

I have more family, now! You’d really like them. Katara could beat you at Pai Sho, for sure. I tried to show them how you swirled the gooey center of the fruit pies, but I don’t think I did it quite right. It’s hard to tell. I tried it a few times in the mirror, but, when I remember you doing it, I can’t see your hands anymore.

I’m trying, though! I’m trying!

Toph helped rebuild the statues in the temple. I don’t really know how, though. Mai and Zuko convinced me to stay with them and teach the schools how to host a dance while the others left on Appa.

The statues look great. They look almost life-like.

It’s been a hundred years, huh? I try not to That’s so weird to think about.

I can’t thi I don’t kno Please don’t miss me, Gyatso. I’ll write to you more so you don’t miss me. I promise. It’ll be okay. 

I can’t s Please, please, please, don’t miss me, okay? Please?

I loved y

My fathe

I loved you, Gy

I 

…

Wet scars like blood splatters littered the letters by the dozens and made Aang’s handwriting nearly illegible.

Katara couldn’t make herself read any more.

She was the last one to break.

Sokka had been the first.

The second she sat next to where their family cocooned him on the bed, he hugged her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling.

She had seen her brother cry before.

But Katara had never seen Sokka weep.

Missing fathers and fathers missing were scars that never quite closed.

Katara choked on years lost and years alone, and she barely felt their family huddle around them, blanketing them, protecting them from what they couldn’t see.

Sokka’s hand left his grip on her to search for someone who wasn’t there. Katara beat him to it, though. Her empty hands pawed her brother’s back and were only mildly tamed by Suki’s tighter hug.

Aang...

The worst part was the helplessness. It wasn’t like they could bring back the dead.

The second worst part was the guilt. He had been alone even when he was right with them.

The third worst part was admitting that they couldn’t heal him. He needed something stronger than stitches to mend his heart.

Sokka tensed and tried to get up with that bullheaded air of setting his mind on something, but he only collapsed further into Katara’s arms. Zuko held them tighter and hushed the both of them. He tried to distract them with a strategy or a plan of what to do.

“...What can we do, Zuko?”

Zuko shut his mouth. Suki held them tighter. Toph sniffled and fisted Sokka’s and Katara’s shirts.

In the too-far-off distance, Appa groaned a series of soft sounds.

They all paused. They all broke.

Suki was the last to start weeping.

…

Clumps. The beast was easy enough to track.

Appa recognized Mai well enough to remember Aang being happy—trusting her—when he hung upside-down from her shoulders and laughed that happy sound that made Appa’s world of no bison feel full of new life.

He let her pass but not without groaning a hurried list of what she had to do to help his buddy.

Mai patted Appa’s nose.

Aang was a pathetic bundle of orange in the far corner of the cave. He was a mountain breaking apart, but his tumbling boulders didn’t make a single sound. His words were cut. His voice was obsolete. He pressed himself into the wall like he might get to something better if only he could come out of the other side.

Mai was a shark fin cutting through still water, and she sunk to a seat right beside him. The ground was cold and damp, but he burned so hot that she could feel the licks of his fever from here.

Her sitting down was the placing of a needle onto a spinning record, and his sounds of sorrow finally broke free of him. They bubbled in his throat like blood threatening to drown him, and he coughed when the instinct to survive overrode his waning will to keep breathing.

Mai closed her eyes and emptied her lungs. She touched the bare skin of his back. He flinched like she had struck him, but he didn’t duck away from her.

Mai let her presence fill his silence. Even he didn’t know what he needed, but she kept doing what seemed to be working. Her hand rode the waves of his choked sounds in long, looping circles that lasted as long as the time it took to take two breathes.

His hiccups dulled to whimpers. His sniffles quieted to shivers. He dug his nails out of his arms and scowled like he was struggling to remember.

The apex of her hand’s circle was his inhale, the bottom of the arch guided his air out. She unwound him in every way and through every layer until he released himself and uncurled enough to show some of the yellow of his robes.

Aang bobbed his head like a metronome.

Mai kept scratching long, looping circles on his back.

He huddled into himself with a ghostly small smile and a barely-there hug, and Mai would have startled if she was a weaker woman.

Aang started to hum.

His vibrato was something within him thinning and threatening to break.

When he started to sing, that thing within him frayed.

It broke when he got to the upturned chorus. It was supposed to be a happy song.

Mai hugged her knees with one arm and scratched his back with the other—keeping him alive like a broken music box from a hundred years ago that lost its key and was fighting fate from becoming obsolete.

…

Aang wore his smile like it was something he could take off.

The Blind Bandit ripped it off of him.

The Blue Spirit broke it in half.

The Kyoshi Warrior tossed it into the fire.

The Painted Lady threw its ashes away.

The Swordsman melted it down and forged it into something protective.

The Dangerous Lady kept its daggers in her sleeves and dared someone to hurt him again.

...

Toph sat across from him and didn’t let him be alone.

Zuko walked past his room to remind him that there was a way out.

Suki brought him books with pictures to show him how to feel again.

Katara was his shadow, his shield, and his favorite dancing partner, coaxing his smile to come out and play with hers.

Sokka told him jokes and laughed hard enough for both of them.

(Mai sat with him and listened to everything she didn’t need to know but everything she wanted to learn about his loss.)

...

When Aang was loved, he couldn’t talk fast enough. His past and his future lost meaning. All that mattered was his family right in front of him and the smiles that bellied their every feeling.

They were tattoos that he could never wash off, not that he would ever, ever try.

Five years of wanting were five Fall seasons of feeling lost. Five Fall seasons of searching were five Fall seasons of feeling alone.

Five friends and one love were six members of his second family.

Two brothers a foot taller and three sisters twice as strong as him meant Aang rarely won when they wrestled.

Sokka was safe and familiar as he sat on Aang’s back. Katara shoved him off. Toph laughed and took his place.

Aang walked, almost skipping—so giddy that he was going to spill over—next to them. They went slow on purpose to stretch out the precious journey home, but he didn’t mind. He told them all about his first family and everything he loved about them.

“—it, Zuko! He rode a dragon, once, too! Oh, Katara, you wouldn’t believe—“

Five years and five seasons of dead and dying things meant nothing to them. They almost lost him in the blink of an eye, and they wouldn’t look away ever again.

They were each a stretch of ink tattooed around his heart. They were stronger than stitches. They were a part of him.

They shooed him away so they could pull him closer, and their smiles were challenges to the size of his own.

...

When Aang was hugged, all he knew was love. All of his wants and needs lost meaning. Everything that mattered to him was everyone who held him, and everyone who held him were always there for him before Aang even knew that he needed them.

Their hugs were surprises like finding out the dead were alive.

They surprised him every time. He flinched, however, like he had never done before.

He was trying, though. He was trying.

Him missing family and family missing him were scars that would always be tender.

Tender was okay, though.

The secret was the gooey center.

“...Sometimes...life is like this...t-this dark tunnel,” he told his swallowed shadow, “...C’n’t see the light...but if...if you just keep going...”

His family were already in the prayer field. They looked at him with faces armed with smiles and arms loaded with hugs.

Sokka waved and said something he shouldn’t have and that, even though it made their family laugh, compelled Katara to shove him into the fountain.

The water was cold.

Sokka screamed.

Aang froze for a small century. He didn’t breathe for a longer eternity.

...And then Aang laughed.

And Aang cried.

And Aang laughed so hard that he cried.

All Aang cared about were the arms now around him, and all he knew were their soft words spoken over and over.

“We love you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Sokka, you’re a dumbass.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The muted smack of a backhand sounded too much like Mai’s for it to be anyone else’s.

Aang laughed a little harder.

He didn’t want to go home, anymore. Home was a memory. Memories couldn’t feel like this.

In their arms, he was finally where he was meant to be.

In their arms, Aang was happy.

In their arms was what home should be.

And when they held him tighter, Aang never felt more wanted in his entire life.

...

And when next Aang needed to speak with him, he found a way.

“Hey, Gyatso,” Aang said, speaking to the person in the mirror who was once a boy, then the Avatar, and now a young man trying to make himself into something that his memories would be proud of. “Did you miss me? You won’t believe this, but Katara lost to me at Pai Sho this morning. She got me back with the fruit pie, though. It even had sea prunes in it...”

Aang talked some more, and he talked fast. The breeze wound into and through the folds of his robes like it was a lounging cat curling into the warm rooms of a new home and new favorite sunny spot. He smiled something brighter than joy and welcomed the windy hugs that could always hold him just tight enough.

When Aang talked to his father, his master’s tattoos lost meaning. The tattoo Gyatso had left behind was so bright that Aang’s eyes watered if he looked thought about it too much.

He talked and talked and cried and talked until he left himself breathless.

It was a strange feeling, being breathless.

His element was suspended away from him, but nothing felt out of his reach.

A body or two (or three) threw themselves at his door.

“Twinkletoes!”

“You better not have my lipstick again! I bought you your own for a reason!”

“Hurry up, Avatar, we’re going to be late!”

Aang laughed just as the—the wall opened?

Katara lassoed his neck with her arms and threatened to kill him with a kiss that yanked him above the clouds and dropped him into free-fall.

“What...” He blinked. “...I mean I...I-I mean I don’t...” He turned a color and temperature that made Katara smile like he hadn’t seen her do in far too long of a time. “...What do I have to do to get another?”

“Ugh.” Mai rolled her eyes and pointed down the wide hall of the secret passage. “Just don’t do anything stupid. And don’t be late for the fireworks.”

Aang smirked something evil, and Katara couldn’t help but smile.

The firelilies only looked pretty when Aang had two dozen in one hand and her hand in his other. He kissed her knuckles, offered his arm, and escorted her down the invisible red carpet. She hid her face in his arm and trusted him to keep her from walking into anything.

He laughed.

His empire breathed a sigh of relief.

The anniversary of the new world they built was familiar, but none of them felt home until they met together on the hill.

And nothing felt right until their sickness started acting up again.

“Aang! Get back here!”

“Aw, c’mon, Sifu Hotman! Where’s your sense of fun?”

None of them realized the fireworks were over until the sky got a bit darker and it was time to go home.

Aang was tired. And when Aang was tired, he dragged his feet and spoke in slurred songs. His lyrics found every lost feeling and forgotten meaning. They were long lists of pretty names and precious things, tender to the touch and still healing.

He was tired, happy, and teary-eyed as he sang a diary-entry of their day to the breeze dancing around them.

Four seasons were six loves and two families that would never let him slip away into the season of dead and dying things.

He was their goofy little brother and their grinning parasite. He was a candle left out in the rain.

So they built a fort around him. And they hugged him like they could never hold him tight enough.

And when Aang was at peace, he didn’t say a word. Words were meaningless. They were a constraint. They only meant a certain something.

So he laughed.

And he laughed.

And he laughed.

He laughed even when his family cried, and he laughed harder when they learned to laugh with him.

Six years of found family were six years of found love.

And all six members of his family would never—never—let him Fall again.

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

[voorbeees]

[ me, writing a decent fic? impossible! Anyway here’s a fic about Jesse adopting a kid that I got kind of carried away with but i don’t care. 

you can also read it here . Also don’t forget I take commissions. ]

The sharp hunting knife plunges into the woman's temple. It's a faster kill than he enjoys. Usually he'll bide his time, watching, waiting until he's spotted a piggy that suits him. Typically it's a cat and mouse game, dragged out for as long as possible. Psychological torture is the game. That accompanied by true torture, eventually.

Jesse has found himself becoming far more annoyed by Preston than usual, which is saying something, considering that the man makes him consider driving a knife into his own eye in order to end the conversation faster. After the latest whining spree, he's decided he's just going to kill him. Preston offers no value to himself or his organization anymore. Only he wants an audience when he does it. Set an example. No other employees voice opinions like him, but Jesse wants to make sure they remember who's in charge.

Chromeskull twists the knife in a fit of anger. God even thinking about him pisses him off. Another turn for good measure then he yanks the blade from the woman's head. It's a clean kill and for that he's sorry. She'd have been perfect for slicing and butchering. Whatever. It's done. The night is still young and there's still plenty of piggies to find.

He swaggers back to his Chrysler 300 to retrieve a body bag. Once he's back, Jesse stuffs the body in the bag and slings it over his should as if he's done this a thousand times. (Probably because he has done this a thousand times.) He's not too worried about the crime scene, it's an abandoned warehouse for Christ's sake. The only people who'll be snooping around in here are your typical crack head junkies. No one in their right mind is going to believe that they found blood. Even better, they'd probably be convicted of the crime. Now that's fucking hilarious. Jesse laughs silently at the thought. The only indication that he's even doing it being the up and down movement of his shoulders.

By this point he's made sure his knives are tucked safely away back in his chrome briefcase, which he holds in his free hand. Jesse kicks the door open with enough strength to knock it off its hinges. He stands there on the stoop in the back alley for a moment before marching down the dimly lit alleyway to his car.

A scuffing noise coming from behind catches his attention. Jesse turns around with enough force to make the body over his shoulder whizz through the air and thunk hard against his back. Nothing catches his eye so he brushes it off. Most likely a stray cat.

The trunk to the car opens with a click and he throws the body inside. Better care is taken when he places his briefcase in beside it. The video has long since finished recording and he takes the time now to remove the tape, titling it Jacksonville. It's honestly not even worth keeping or naming but who gives a fuck. He caught the bitch and killed her, it's his fair and square.

Pocketing the tape, he slams the trunk shut. He's opted to keep his chrome mask on. No sense in taking it off just to reapply the adhesive an hour later. He whirls around, ready to jump into the car and drive off when instead he practically jumps out of his fucking skin.

There no more than a few feet away stands a small child, no older than six. Big doe-like eyes stare up at him and it takes Jesse a minute to regain his composure. What the fuck? He looks around but sees no one. Clearly she belongs to someone, which sounds stupid as fuck because she isn't a fucking dog. And yes. Now he can make out clearly that it is a little girl. He doesn't have many rules he abides by when the chrome mask is placed on his face, but killing kids is one of his top ones. They're still too young to understand the world or just how terrible their mothers are for leaving them alone long enough to get a fuck in.

The little girl takes a tiny step forward and Jesse wastes no time in yanking his phone from his pocket. He types furiously on it, black nitrile making hardly a sound.

'GO AWAY' . The electronic voice echoes off the brick walls of the alley. He can tell by the way she flinches back a step that his point is made. Good. Jesse brushes past her, ready to leave the situation behind. At least until he feels a tug on his black slacks.

The little girl clings to his designer pants, eyes wide but not from fear, more so curiosity. Jesse wastes no time in furiously typing on his phone again. 'GO HOME. I'M A BUSY MAN AND I DON'T NEED TO BE HELD UP. ' His only response is a slow blink.

'NO. ' He dislodges her tiny hands and pushes her on the back in the opposite direction. ' GO HOME. ' Jesse thinks he's finally gotten her to understand but it's the exact opposite. For some fucking reason that makes her want to be even closer to him.

"Why do you wear that?" She asks as she points to his mask.. She has to hold her head all the way back to even see his "face". It's actually rather comical and if anyone were to walk by at this moment they'd probably double over with laughter. The girl barely makes it up to his thigh, as to where the 6'7 man looks like a god damned giant looking at a pomeranian. "Are you hiding from someone?"

Yes that was obviously it! He, a known killer, was hiding from someone. What a stupid -- Jesse stops himself mid thought as his brown eye takes in her appearance. It's raggedy to say the least. Then again, anyone who compared his attire to another’s would consider it to be raggedy. ' HOME. LEAVE ME ALONE. FIND YOUR MOTHER. '

The girl's face seems to crumple at this and for a moment Jesse is dumbfounded. "I -I don't know where she is." The tiny voice squeaks out. Her lower lip begins to quiver and ohmyfuckinggod he's done it now. People could care less if they heard a woman on the streets yelling, but a kid? Someone would come bounding around the corner to the rescue. Which only meant he'd then have to kill them and whoever else came with them. "She leaves sometimes and doesn't come back for a while." His mangled lip twists into a snarl under the chrome mask. "She usually says it's because she has to work." Ah, so that explained it.

Jesse's eye darts to the trunk of his Chrysler 300. Of course the whore brought her kid to work. If he could talk, Jesse would have a mouthful of slurs to toss at the dead woman. He knows all too well what it's like to not have a mother, and knows even better the concept of a drunk for a father. Though something tells him there's no father in this situation.

"Can I come with you? At least until she comes back?" It's such an innocent question and it takes everything in him to hold back the sensation of snuffing out a life. Chromeskull is creeping further into the picture, just begging to sink his claws into her and kill her but Jesse smoothers that thought.

He's always had a fond spot for kids. It was actually something he was excited about when he'd found out his wife was pregnant but just like everything else that had been ruined too. He never talks about his wife. The only time he did was when Spann had the displeasure of explaining the situation to him. After that he'd made it clear to never mention her or the unborn baby again by destroying everything in his office. The room looked like it had been hit by a tornado when he was done, broken pictures, splintered chairs, holes in the wall. The scenario made his fiasco with destroying the mirror after seeing his own disfigurement seem mild. All of that accompanied with the unsaid "this is your fault" regarding her suicide has been eating away at him slowly over the years.

' NO. ' He shakes his leg free. Tricky little pest.

"But please?" She's latches on to him again and Jesus fucking Christ what the fuck about his current attire screams "I'm here to help you!". Because it sure as fuck isn't the mask or knives hidden away in his car.

By this time he's just decided to remove his gloves, throwing the used nitrile into the passenger seat of the open driver side door. The low light illuminates the tattoos that cover his hands. The letters on his knuckles moving slightly when he clenches his fists together. He's about to start typing again when the tiny voice breaks the silence. "Oh you painted your hands!" It's the stupidest fucking thing he's ever heard. They're tattoos, tattoos that decorate both arms from the knuckles up when he's not dressed for the job. But it's also the funniest thing he's ever heard and Jesse can't help the smile that stretches across his mangled face behind the mask. Children are so God damned innocent. A tiny hand removes itself from his slacks to grasp at his hand but Jesse moves it out of her way before she can grab it. A sad expression settles on her face but it quickly disappears as he hikes his slacks up by the knees, making it easier for him to bend down. He's eye level with her now and he sees almost instantly how her demeanor changes. Once more it's not fear (odd considering there's a giant man in a chrome skeleton mask right in front of her face), but rather elation.

She wastes no time in snatching one of his hands examining it. In the process his sleeve rides up to reveal more ink on his arm. "You colored your arm too?" She looks up to see him nod once slowly. This only sits off another tirade of questions. Jesse can't really answer them. Sure he could type them and let the phone do the talking but that’s too much fucking work. He's not sure if she understands sign language so no point in trying that. He settles for just nodding or shaking his head, short answers she's bound to understand.

"You don't talk much, huh?" It's not that he doesn't talk, it's that he can't talk. Most days Jesse would give anything to be able to express himself through voice, even if it meant giving his remaining eye. But he's always lived like this and there's no point in complaining about what can't be fixed. Plus it adds an intimidation aspect to him, something he rather enjoys.

"Can I come with you?" She asks again and this time Jesse studies her for a moment. He weighs the options in his head. She is alone and it would be awfully rude to simply leave her here by herself in the back of an alley. Seeing as Jesse is the perfect gentleman, he can't simply do that. It's hard to tell what will happen to her if he just leaves her here. Other people might say she's his responsibility because he obviously just fucking killed her mom, but from his point of view she didn't seem like a mother anyway. No loss in that department. He finally nods and there's just something about the way her tiny face lights up with delight that just wants to make him laugh. For having just met him, she seems very content to cling to him. Then an idea pops into his head. Wanting children and then having the possibility taken away, only to be rewarded with one. He can already hear Preston's annoying voice now, and honestly that's all the fucking push he needs.

Jesse stands to his full height with ease. The little girl follows him as he makes his way back to the car. She blinks at the automobile. "I've never seen a car like this before. Are you rich?" Very rich, he wants to say but settles for nodding. And if he has anything to say in the matter, she’ll be just as rich in a short time also.

---------

Jesse parks the car outside the warehouse his operation is currently running in, not bothering to make an effort to hide it. Besides he's not too worried about the police. He pulls open the back door and the little girl eagerly jumps into his arms, still talking a hundred miles an hour (something she's been doing for the last twenty minutes, but frankly he doesn't care). He walks them through the building's side door, being met instantly by Spann and then Preston, who's wearing that annoyingly fake 'happy to see you!' expression.

"Sir, we didn't expect you back until morning." Spann's soothing voice meets his ears. He responds with a shrug as he sees her eyes land on the child.

And then that voice grates on his ears. "Boss, you're fucking kidding, right?" It's followed by a nervous and unbelieving laugh. "I didn’t take you for the adopting strays sort of guy. Let alone, I think she's a little young for you." Preston laughs again but he's met with Spann's hard stare and Jesse's blood-curdling one. The implication that he has something planned is enough to make his mangled lip curl into a snarl under the mask.

It's then he places the girl in the other man's arms and begins typing on his phone. ' GET HER SETTLED IN AT HOME. ROOM. CLOTHES. SCHOOL. ' It's a clear statement and he doesn't plan on repeating himself.

"Might I commend you on how great of an idea having an apprentice is, Sir." Jesse makes a so-so movement with his hand then signs the word "daughter". Spann smiles widely. "Even better. I've always seen you as a family man." The both of them begin to make their way back to his office.

"Boss!" Preston looks between the kid in his arms and back to Jesse. "You're not serious."

The electronic voice meets his ears once again. ' DO IT NOW. '

"Boss!" The sound reaches his ears once more before he closes the door and sinks into his chair. A smile stretches across his face under the mask as Spann begins explaining plans to move the operation. Maybe Preston does have a use. Being the always available babysitter.

[simp-for-mha-men]

𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟 (𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕒 𝕒𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣)

Request by @hermionie-is-my-queen​: Hey! Not necessarily a request, and kind of a scenario proposal: but imagine aizawa and reader adopted a cat a while back together, and the cat gets sick, or has to be put down, and it’s just some comforting fluff? Idk if this falls into the category of no angst so if it does instead maybe visiting a shelter to adopt a new kitty? Tysm anyway! Soft aizawa and soft kitties are my fav

A/N: Yes, yes, and yes! I am so in love with this whole idea. I took a little bit of inspiration from the English voice actor’s Tik Tok and from where I live for this one. School just started back up, too, so I’ll now be taking a bit longer to reply to requests. Sorry! Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it!

Genre: fluffy times with a rescue cat and your boyfriend, angst in the first half due to animal death 🌧️💜

Word count: 2.7k

♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥

It had only been a month. One month ago, you lost your precious siamese cat, Willow. Your boyfriend, Shouta Aizawa, had given her to you once you moved into your first apartment together. She was a gift that kept on giving, whether it was hairballs or purrs. She kept you company through the day while your boyfriend was teaching his students, and you both would welcome him home with kisses and cuddles every day.

Aizawa loved Willow just as much as you did. You were both the lights in his life, and without you, he would feel incomplete. After the worst days at U.A., he could come home and feel at peace due to the loves of his life. It tore him up inside that Willow was gone, but he knew the loss broke you apart even worse than it did him.

He adopted Willow when she was 11. The shelter he went to, usually just to browse, was going to put her down just because of her age. Aizawa formed a bond when he looked into her ocean blue eyes. He knew that she would be perfect not only for him but for you as well. In a matter of minutes, the adoption papers were signed and finalized. A beautiful forest green bow was placed around her neck, and she was on her way to meet the better half of her new owner. The three of you were inseparable when home. Midnight cuddles and afternoon snacks were always a favorite among your little family. Despite you and Aizawa never talking about kids in your future, you felt like Willow was your daughter. It was true perfection and bliss. Sadly, it couldn’t last forever.

When Willow turned 13, she started acting strange. She began hiding around the house more, throwing up whenever she ate, and losing an excessive amount of weight. You decided a check-up was in order, and Aizawa whole-heartedly agreed. Praying for a fluke incident was what you did, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t going to be the case no matter how much you wished it to be. Her vet told you both that she had cancer and wouldn’t live much longer. This caused your world to come spiraling down.

How someone handles the five stages of grief depends on the person. For you, Willow was absolutely fine. You were in absolute denial. Over the two years you and Aizawa raised her, she was always healthy. There was absolutely no way that she could have cancer. Healthy cats don’t get cancer, right? You went about your life with Willow as if everything was normal. Aizawa tried to knock some sense into you, but you blocked it out. A week later, a certain piece of information triggered the second stage of grief.

Aizawa told you that he would be staying home to take care of Willow with you, since she was living her final weeks. Saying you were furious would be an understatement. You took your boyfriend onto the balcony and yelled at him for 15 minutes about how Willow was completely normal. You told him that everything was fine and that she would live longer than what the vet said. Seeing you were too stubborn to change, Aizawa refused talking to you about the matter but still took those extra days off. It lasted like this another week before another trip to the vet.

Once you got home that night, you found yourself on your knees next to the bed. You were praying to whatever deity was in the sky or under the ground to save Willow. You didn’t know if bargaining with the immortal was a sane idea, but you had entered the third stage. Aizawa watched you do this every hour of the day, it seemed. He heard you muttering to yourself in your sleep, begging for Willow’s safety. None of this worked, though. Two weeks after the visit, Willow was back at the vet to be put down for good.

The last month had gone by agonizingly slow. Your boyfriend was back at work, leaving you alone to your own devices. The depression had been the longest stage. You wondered to yourself if you would ever get to the acceptance part of the five stages. Nothing you did to try and clear your mind worked. You tried to write, draw, sing, and dance, but nothing seemed successful. Most days, you were confined to your side of your shared bed, sobbing your eyes out until they looked unusually red and puffy.

Losing an animal shouldn’t hurt this much. You had a cat when you were younger, and when she was put down, you were only upset for a week before understanding it was time to move on. Why did losing Willow hurt so much. The question plagued you day and night. You racked your brain trying to figure out why this pain wouldn’t subside. Why did it sting so badly? Why did the tears keep falling?

When you were starting dinner one evening, your boyfriend came home. He seemed to be in a good mood, which was strange for someone like him. He came around, gave you a quick peck on the cheek, and leaned against the counter next to the stove.

“How was your day, babe?” you asked, mustering up as much fake happiness as possible.

You flashed your lover a quick smile, hoping it hid the pain better than you thought it did. However, you had been dating this man for 3 years. He knew you all too well. Willow’s death had affected you so much, which caused him to mull over it for longer than expected. An animal’s death was, of course, sad, but people usually got over it quickly. Why was it taking you longer?

“Are you alright?” your boyfriend questioned, placing a hand on your upper arm.

Sighing, you answered, “Of course I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

You both began a waltz to avoid each other. You stood on the opposite side of the island, setting the places on the table for the both of you to eat. Right as Aizawa met you, you sauntered off back to the stove to turn off the burner. It went on like this for much longer while your words went at each other.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“(y/n)...you’re not.”

“Just shut up, ok?”

“Listen to me...”

“SHUT UP!”

Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning struck outside. The deafening boom from the sky sounded next. In a matter of seconds, a downpour began outside and inside the apartment. Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears. Aizawa froze, giving you time to finally realize why Willow’s death meant so much to you. It was right in front of you the whole time, but your ignorance caused blindness. Just as your boyfriend began to approach you, the tears and truth spilled over.

“She was like our baby,” you began. “Once I moved in with you, I was so scared that you would break up with me. Willow brought us together. No matter what had happened on a bad day, she would fix us back up. It’s like I lost a part of our relationship, Shouta.”

Aizawa was shocked to say the least. In actuality, Aizawa was completely caught off by your statement. He never knew you felt this way about Willow. He knew you had developed a close bond with the feline, but he should’ve noticed sooner the parental role you took for her. He felt like a terrible boyfriend. He felt like he should’ve found a way to keep Willow alive longer. He felt like her death was his fault.

“(y/n), I’m sorry I should’ve--”

“Meow.”

Both of you came to your senses. Did you really just hear a meow? Had Willow come out of her grave to come back to you both? Aizawa looked at you, causing your tears to stop for a moment. Another flash of lightning struck, followed by the familiar thunder. Then, you heard it again.

“Meeeeow.”

Your brain was going crazy. You were already running on endorphins due to the sudden outburst you had at your lover. Now, you felt your fight or flight responses kick in. There’s no way there was a cat at your apartment. Sure, you lived in an area where an animal could get lost, but a stray cat would never be near your complex.

“Meow.”

Taking a deep breath in, you tried to calm your nerves. Silently cursing your boyfriend’s senses, you heard him shuffling over to you. He placed his hands on your hips and kissed your forehead. Aizawa felt guilty. He knew that a cat wouldn’t be outside in this weather, especially if it was a stray. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. His guilty conscience was in full force, or maybe it wasn’t?

“Meeeeow.”

“Ok,” you said, slowly tilting your head up to meet your boyfriend’s gaze. “Please tell me you’re hearing the meowing, too.”

“It’s real?” Aizawa asked, gazing at you with confused eyes.

Shaking your head, you slithered out of his arms. Despite your mind telling you this was a bad idea, you decided to stick with your sudden plan. You were going to check outside. You didn’t know what you would find, but it was worth the risk. Wherever this cat was, you had to find it. You weren’t doing this for you, however, but for Willow.

Placing your hand on the front door knob, you unlocked it and slowly opened it just a little bit. That’s when you saw it. A beautiful tabby cat sat on your front mat, meowing to its heart’s content. It was drenched, laying against the door in search of some warmth. The poor little angel was shivering, but it looked up upon sensing your presence.

“Well, hello there,” you greeted, opening the door wider.

“Meeeeow.”

You bent down and sat on your knees, cooing the little creature forward. Taking your invitation, it sauntered over to you. Once your hand made contact with its back, the cat began rubbing its wet body all over your leg. Laughing slightly, you turned to look at Aizawa.

He was staring at you with true adoration in his eyes. He knew from the moment he met you that you were the one, but this tender moment between you and a stray cat solidified that even more. It was perfect. You were perfect. Despite the past month, he realized what this new stray would mean to you immediately. Willow sent him or her as a gift from heaven. That much had to be true. It was her way of saying that everything would be alright.

“I’ll get some food and water for the little one,” Aizawa said, walking over to first close the door.

“Make sure to get a towel first,” you replied. “I don’t want this poor baby getting sick from being to cold. Right, sweetie?”

The cat gazed at you with thankfulness in its eyes. You felt much different than you had just a few minutes ago. You were no longer sad about Willow. Instead, you were happy her pain had ended when it did, even if it wasn’t in the best way. Somehow, this little stray just happened to choose your doorstep. Your heart was starting to feel whole again. That’s how you came to a simple conclusion: this was fate. The stage of acceptance was finally in your sight.

You and Aizawa resumed your waltz around the kitchen, but this time, things were much different. It felt like the day Aizawa first brought Willow home. You immediately took on the role of the parent, watching your new friend’s every move to make sure it didn’t hurt itself. Once Aizawa brought you a towel, you sat on the couch and began drying off the cat. You discovered during this that you had found an adorable little boy, proud and frisky from his recent adventure.

Aizawa set the food and water out, luring the tabby out of your lap and to the kitchen. He lapped everything greedily, only further confirming that this was indeed a stray. Walking over to your boyfriend, you stopped once you reached his side.

“I’m sorry,” you began, lacing your fingers with his.

“Oh, don’t be,” he replied, smoothly changing the position you both were in so he could snuggle your neck. “I should’ve taken off time from work and been there for you. It was wrong of me to think our lives would go back to normal.”

“But, still..”

“(y/n)...just let me hold you.”

You did what he asked. You let him wrap his arms around you as you both watched your new boy. Unspoken between the two of you was what was going to happen with your newfound cat: you were going to keep him. Of course, he would need to pay for his shots, a proper bath, and new amenities, but that was a thing for the future. Aizawa knew you would bring it up tomorrow morning, worrying about it profusely, and you knew Aizawa would tell you to stop worrying so much, peppering your face in kisses as a distraction.

Once the cat was finished eating, he walked over and began rubbing himself against Aizawa’s leg. Realizing he needed to be warmed up, you reached down and picked him up. He clearly enjoyed being showered in attention and didn’t pull away when you both began talking to him.

“What do you think?” Aizawa questioned.

You knew what he was talking about: his name. Despite only finding this cat outside of your doorstep 20 minutes ago, you both knew this was his new forever home. The name was an important part of claiming a pet, which you made sure to educate Aizawa about before naming Willow. This, however, wasn’t a tough decision like Willow’s name.

“I was thinking Thunder,” you replied softly, gazing into your lover’s eyes.

He hummed in response, alerting you that he liked that name. You purposely chose that name due to the circumstances you found him in, but you also had an ulterior motive. You eventually wanted to get another cat and name it Lightning. Why? Easy answer: why not?

Suddenly, your boyfriend let go of your waist. Turning around, you noticed he began walking off to the bedroom. It was only 7:30, but, of course, your lover was already exhausted. That was one of the qualities you loved about him, though. He could always fall asleep easily.

“You didn’t eat dinner,” you called after him.

“I know,” he replied in a low voice, “but wouldn’t you rather fall asleep with the man you love?”

His words made you blush, but he wasn’t wrong. With Thunder in your arms and dinner long forgotten, you made your way over to your bedroom. Upon entering, you saw your boyfriend was already laying down and waiting for you to join him. You placed Thunder on the bed and went to lay down next to your lover. He placed his arms around you, making you fell safe and secure before someone interrupted you both.

Thunder began slowly crawling up to lie in between you. Chuckling, Aizawa left a little bit of room between your bodies for your new baby to curl up between you both. It felt natural. It felt like home again. It was just you, your boyfriend, and your cat. Willow, you could tell, was smiling down from heaven. You knew she could be fully at peace now knowing you were happy.

“I love you so much,” you mumbled to your boyfriend, allowing your eyes to close.

“I love you, too, kitten,” Aizawa replied, drifting off to sleep and allowing your breaths to match one another.

This was home. This was family. This was perfection for the both of you. Now, Aizawa went to bed with a single question on his mind. It was quite simple but also heavy. When was he going to place that wonderful ring on your finger?

[xeo-kunsatan]

MonsterOlympics One Shot +13 (Part 2)

This One shot is divided in parts because is long as hell XD, as well this contains many racy jokes, black humor and swearing, if youre sensitive with this humor i recommend you to not read this shit, as well this One shot is just for fun. (Sorry this time i have no illustrations, im Lazy, use your imagination XD)

Nobody have expected it, Farley and Toralei run quickly to hug eachother, they

were really happy to see eachother again.

The Students from Monster High were surprised because their most problematic and devilish Classmate was acting completely lovely with surprisely a Dog, something unusual in her especially for her pals Purrsephone and Meowlody who didn't understand their friend's behavior.

Cleo The Nile

Daughter of the Momy

Age: 5843 (or more)

Gender: Female

Species: Momy

Cleo: I cant Believe what my Beautiful eyes are watching...

Pinky: Me too Sis... Me too..

Farid: here we go again...

Claw: Mew?

P&M: Meww~

The Twin Cats went close to Them catching their attention.

Purrsephone and Meowlody

Daughters of Werecats.

Age: 16

Gender: Females

Species: Werecats

Purrsephone: You most be her Frrriend's brotherrrs~?

Farren: didn't you know that she was a friend of a Dog?

Meowlody: she told us something similarrr before, but we thought it was a joke knowing her.

Farid: well for more surprising it seems, it's true.

Purrsephone: do you know since when they meet eachother?

Farren: since we used to be pups living in the streets, one day we found her escaping from a store-man, prepare yourself because this part will make this part long.

Flashback.

The street of Monsteropolis was chill, a group of 3 Poodle puppies where looking for something to eat.

Farren: Agh I'm Hungry, and you?

Farid: *sob* i think i have a hole inside my stomach...

Farley: Calm down brothers, maybe we can go to Madame Ghoulasha's shop to ask for food. you know the trick, We Knock the door, we will use the puppy eyes effect against her and she will give us food.

Farren: i still don't understand why that trick works that well.

Farid: isn't obvious? We are pretty adorable but More me~.

Farren: *chuckles* aren't supposed to have a "hole inside your stomach?".

Farid: Hey! I'm Hungry but I'm still fabulous.

Farley: Guys look!

Suddenly the puppers found a shop man ogre chasing a kitten with a bottle.

Mr Ogre: Come back here you stupid mutt!!

Toralei: as you wish!

Mr Ogre followed the kitten to a dark alley

Farley: we can't leave them like that

Farren: Are you Serious!? It's a Cat!!

Farid: Eww yeah, what if they has fleas?

Farley: We have fleas too..*shows them a flea walking through his paw furr* and she needs our help, remember Stray animals always can help other stray animals.

Farren: but what if they doesn't thanks us?

Farley: We can throw them to the sewers

:3.

Farren: okay let's go.

The 3 puppies followed the Ogre to the Alley.

Mr Ogre: *manages to catch her*

Gotcha!

Toralei: No!!

Mr Ogre: Hah did you thought that you would escape from me?.

Toralei: Hssss!!! Let me go you bastard!!

Mr Ogre:*takes a razor* or what?

Toralei:..*gulp*...

Mr Ogre: heh your journey ends here kitty- agh!?

The Ogre was about to end with the kitten life but he suddenly was stopped by the tackle of the triplet Poodles, making him faint and drop the kitten.

Toralei: Mew!!

Farley:*catches her* Gotcha! Are you okay?

Toralei: T-thanks, *sniffs him* wait.. are you a Dog!? *Jumps off*

Farid: "your welcome" hmp!

Farley: Yes we are dogs, but i didn't wanted to leave you alone and less with that man about to make Cat-Hash with you.

Toralei: Well.. i usually can escape by myself but.. still, thank you.

Farley: at your service miss.. uhh

Toralei: Toralei Stripe, and you arrre?

Farley: My name is Farley, and this are my brothers, The sour one is Farren.

Farren: Hey!

Farley: and the Narcissist pup who is looking his reflection with the Ogre's razor is Farid.

Farid: who is a pretty puppy? I am! ÙwÚ.

Farley: and i am Farley, together we are the Fluffy Gang.

Toralei: Wow you are all a team, nice to meet ya, I wish I could have my own mates, my older siblings were all adopted except me...

Farley: don't worry, you can come with us and be part of the Gang!

Toralei: Yay! :D

Farid/Farren: What!? D:<

Farley: you can come with us the Time you want until you found out your own mates.

Toralei: Oki Doki! :D

Farren: Farley what the fluff!?

Farid: Whyyyy?~...

Farley: Aww c'mon guys it would be fun.

Farren: i don't think she would like to come with us.."we have fleas"

Toralei: I have Fleas too :D.

Farren: Ok Fair enough.

Farley: Well lets go >:3!

Suddenly the Ogre started to wake up

Mr Ogre: You Little-..

The Cubs: No D:<! *pulls out his cords*

Mr Ogre: What the-!!!... AAAARGHH!!

The Ogre fell from the stairs of another Alley, by then break his neck in the last step, dying in that moment. The Fluffy gang and Toralei didnt believed that they really killed someone.

Farid: *Panic Attack* Oh no! Oh no! we killed him! What we will do!? im too younger and beautiful to go to Jail!! D,:>!!

Toralei: Me Too! D,:<

Farren: *Slaps Farid* Farid Calm Down! this is not the moment for your whines!

Toralei: What we will do Farley?...

Farley:...Uhhhh... look! there is a tip to the sewers, we can throw the body there :D!.

Toralei: Good Idea >:D!.

Farren: Are we Literally ignore that we killed a man?..

Farid: *Sighs* at least we will not go to Jail ;w;

Farren: Ok lets do this!..

Then The Fluffy gang and Toralei with effort, they managed to threw the body of the Ogre to the sewers so anyone will not notice their crime.

Farren: Well, the Job is finished... what now?

Farid: Oww im Still hungry ....

Toralei: Guys, that man had a shop with full of food, thats where i taked the Bottle with milk wich is not in the ground...

Farley: Ok lets go for some snacks! :D

The Fluffly Gang and Toralei: Yay :D

Flashback Ends.

Farren: And thats How we meet Toralei

Farid: Cute isn't?

Meowlody: a little...

Purrsephone: we literrrally thought it was a joke.

Meowlody: And i cant believe that you killed a man..

Farid: We were just babies, we didnt know what we are doing heheh~

Claw: hm?

Meowlody: and this little one?

Farren: Its Claw, His Dying mother gave him to us to save him from the hunters, so he lives with us as a younger sibling, The Principal Stratos usually overprotects him.

P&M: Thats so cute from you part mew~

Claw: *sniffs them* mew

P&M: *sniff him* ...

Claw: *purrrs*

P&M: Awww

Farley: I cant believe we are finally together

Toralei: Me too! ;w; *Purring* I missed you so much!

Farley: *Waving tail* I missed you too!

Frankie: Its so Cute to see this...

Meanwhile..

Manny Taur

A Fucking Minotaur Bully

Age: 17

Species: Minotaur

Gender: Male

Manny: Aww look at this, what are you supossed to be Rabbit?

Bradley: a Vampire/Jackalope Hybrid

Manny: Hah! Vampire!? but youre so tiny

Bradley: well at least the size your dick compensates the size of your brain and intelligence..

Manny: *blushes* How dare you!?

Bradley: well.. its part of your biology..

Manny: Thats it you are Death!

Frankie: Manny No!

Manny was about to Hit Bradley (wich didnt seem scared) but suddenly he was attacked by Skeebo before he would hurt his beloved bunny.

Skeebo: Dont you dare to hurt my boyfriend!

Manny: Your Boyfriend? *chuckles* dont play dumb, you are a fox and Foxes eats rabbits like him!

Skeebo: *Whispers* Shh shh please dont expose what i do with him everynight~

Bradley: im an Arctic Hare not a rabbit...wait*blushes* Skeebo!

Skeebo: Sorry Dear~

Manny: you guys are gross...

Frankie: Thats Enough Manny, do you want me to tell Minnie about your Behavior?

Manny: Oh no! Please dont tell my sister!...

Skeebo: Heh... he is afraid of his sister~

Manny: At least i have a sister

Skeebo: !!!......

Bradley: You son of a Bitch! how dare you!? just because you heard the most of us are orphans doesnt give you the rights of making fun of Us!

Frankie: Wait.. are you Orphans?..

Skeebo: Thats it!...

A Fight Started between Manny and Skeebo, but it was stopped by Miss Bloodgood and Stratos.

Bloodgood: You 2 Stop!

Stratos: You both will go to detention!..

Manny: Thats why Maze High is a bad copy of Monster High, the Students here are all Awfull!!

All: *Gasps*

Claw: *Cries*

Farley/Toralei: What did you said!?

Farren/Farid: You will pay for this!

Betrayus: calm down.. not here!

Skeebo: You said that because at least all of you have their own families...

Bloodgood: Manny Taur...you will be grounded by the rest of the event, the meeting is over..

Stratos: Mistress Bloodgood...I am so sorry for this..

Bloodgood: No no... its not your fault, *sighs* i will correct my student.. Good luck in the event..

Stratos: Good luck for you too...

Manny: *gulp*...

Stratos: Me too...

Frankie: Oh gosh.. i am so sorry..

Skeebo: Its Okay.. we are all used to be seeing like this..*Leaves* Bradley: Skeebs...*sighs*.... its true... While me as some less of my classmates.. mostly of them are all orphan.. for it they basically live here..

Frankie: Ou... i have no idea..

Bradley: Its okay.. as my boyfriend said.. we are used to be judged by other schools... and... Mostly of that students from other schools have their own families...*follows Skeebo*...

Frankie: *Sighs*

The meeting ended and the Monster High Students returned to their homes, while the students from Maze high returned to their dorms, an exception to Farley and Toralei wich where in the school garden trying to calm down Claw.

Farley: Awww Claw dont cry, he will not hurt you.

Toralei: when i see him, i will scratch his ugly bull face so nobody will recognize him not even with the passaport.

Claw: *sob* *sob*

Toralei: Dont Cry little Fella, that awfull bull will not hurt you anymore *pets Claw*

Claw: *Purrs*

Farley: Thank you Toralei, maybe im tired of the boring boomer of Stratos but he still needs a rest.

Toralei: You dont have to thank me, this fella needed it.

Farley: thats right...*Blushes* Its so nice to have you here..

Toralei: *Blushes* Ahh.. yeah i feel the same, heh

Farley: You want me to accompany to your home?

Toralei: Nah, i can go by myself, cats loves nocturnal walks.

Farley: W-w-well see you tomorrow..

Toralei: S-see you T-tomorrow...

Toralei left the gardens to return to her home, while Farley was watching her leave still blushed.

Farley: *sighs*

Claw:*giggles*

Farley: what?..

To be Continued..