#i’m decent at salmon run now

[weatherdotpng]

CHILL SEASON SOON

[adelaidedrubman]

OC INTERVIEW!

i was tagged by dears @g0dspeeed @cassietrn @direwombat @simplegenius042 @wrathfulrook to do a little oc interview, thank you dears! i decided to do this one for america’s sweetheart verse for acclaimed novelist jestiny ft. her long suffering publicist andrea who was mostly there to make sure there was some accurate information, then i decided to give her own spotlight. on that note, sorry for the length and needless preamble no expectation to read All That

“Ugh.” Jestiny grabs the wall to steady herself from stumbling at Andrea’s quick darting into the doorway to block her exit. “Are you fuckin’ serious? You’re really gonna tell me  — a grown fucking woman — I’m not allowed to go play until I finish my homework?”

“It smells like you’ve gotten to play plenty today,” Andrea retorts with a nod towards the disposable coffee cup clenched in Jestiny’s fist and reeking with the unmistakable stench of high proof whiskey. “You’ve put off doing a simple introductory questionnaire for three months now. You’re never going to hire a ghostwriter if you can’t respond to an information request that takes five minutes.”

“I don’t need a ghostwriter,” she mumbles in protest as she takes a sip from her coffee cup that has never once contained coffee, or fooled anyone into thinking it did. “Just a copy editor.”

“Three copy editors have quit because you started using them as ghostwriters. And whatever job title you want to give them, they need some basic biographical information about you to work on your memoir.”

“See, that’s the thing, is no they don’t. Not with the kinda thing I’m writing. It’s all just empty fluff, don’t you —”

“Even for empty fluff, they need a vague skeleton,” Andrea snaps. She pulls Jestiny by the arm towards her desk, pushing her down into one of her guest chairs before taking her seat behind it and clicking a pen. “I canceled the car you called and changed the passwords to all your rideshare accounts. And we both know you couldn’t make it out of the parking garage without getting a DUI. You’re not going anywhere until this is done.”

“Oh, that’s real fuckin�� nice Andrea,” Jestiny hisses. “Hold hostage the woman who just survived —”

name 

“jestiny ellen rook.”

nickname

“none. nope. never had one. never will have one. gotta say the whole thing every time. flaunt it in front of some motherfuckers who were too fucking dumb to ever figure it out.”

gender

“again, andrea — i am a grown fucking woman.”

star sign

“how the fuck am i supposed to know that shit?”  without bothering to check her birthday, andrea writes down aries.

personality type

“america’s fuckin’ sweetheart, baby. kind, lovable, and humble. what else is there?’’  andrea’s hand moves of its own volition to scrawl out the words ‘dark triad,’ immediately scribbling it out to write down ‘istp’ and ‘8w7.’

height

“five foot five, ballpark.”  andrea gives jestiny a skeptical look.  “maybe closer to five-six, camera adds a half-inch.”   andrea, actually 5’6, sighs and writes down 5’4, covering it with her hand to hide from jestiny.

orientation:

“c’mon, you don’t really have to ask that.” andrea dwells unwillingly on the menagerie of half-dressed strangers milling about jestiny’s home every time she steps into it. no, she doesn’t.  “or lie to the press about it, if that’s what you’re dancing around. it’s 2018! america’s sweetheart can be openly bisexual, right?” 

nationality/ethnicity:

“again. america’s fucking sweetheart, baby.”

fave fruit 

“persimmons. don’t put that down, though, that information is for the fuckin’ benefit of your files, so you can get me a halfway decent fruit tray in my dressing room next talk show appearance. write some bullshit about how much i miss the fresh picked huckleberries of hope county and nowhere grows ’em better, or something.”

fave season

“awards! ha, we do have fun. gotta be fall, though. salmon run season. but pretend it’s for the sake of pumpkin spice whatever.”

fave flower 

“psh. whatever happens to be in the bouquets i receive from my adoring fans. but if i have to pick, i guess, uh… forget-me-nots, maybe. or — heh, or cockscomb.”

fave scent 

“whiskey.”  andrea looks between jestiny and her cup, wondering if she has told the truth for the first time.  “coffee, i mean.”

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: 

“i just said —”

average hours of sleep: 

“eh, who can really keep track of that?” people who have to plan their sleep schedule around preventing jestiny from having unsupervised access to social media can and must keep track of that. andrea writes down 3 hours.

dog or cat person

“ew. no. opossums. but write down dog, that probably polls better. andrea, should i get a dog?”   andrea vigorously shakes her head in the negative as she dutifully writes down dog. 

dream trip 

“heh. where do you have me booked for next? checked off a lotta the bucket list already. you’re looking at a dollywood gold pass holder. finally got to go there after a lifetime of dreaming, and it was —”  andrea notes the way jestiny’s eyes suddenly glaze over, her gaze growing hollow and flat as she pauses in searching.  “great. fulfilling. worth the wait. always ready to go back, or onto the next adventure. i mean, it’s such a fucking blessing, don’t you think?” andrea doesn’t answer, looking on with some concern as a hint of earnest joy creeps back into jestiny’s smile. “to have one’s full constitutional right to freedom of movement completely fuckin’ unrestricted?”

favorite fictional/real character

“uh, shrek.”

number of blankets you sleep with? 

“as many as i want, baby! that’s another benefit of freedom, don’t have to settle for a single scratchy, paper thin excuse for a blanket to curl up on my cot with. i get to enjoy my forty-winks on silk sheets and soft as a cloud comforter, on my casper mattress —”

random fact:

“i know how to do a bit of sleight of hand magic.” andrea feels a light brush at her ear, and looks to see jestiny pulling from behind it a matchbook with the number of a taxi company stamped in bright yellow.  “and for my next trick, i’m going to disappear.”

Andrea sighs as she watches Jestiny march out of her office yelling pick-up orders into her cellphone. It was successful for longer than she would have expected, she thinks, tapping the end of her pen against her bottom lip. 

She clicks her pen a few times as she shuffles the papers on her desk, staring down at a blank copy of the questionnaire she’d made in case Jestiny was in foul enough spirits to rip up the first in defiance. 

It would be nice, to have someone ask her things about who she was for once, she thinks, in an indulgent flight of fancy.  

name: 

“andrea simmons.”

nickname: 

“...anal-retentive goldilocks, was the most recent one.”

gender

“woman, she/her.”

star sign

“capricorn.” 

personality type

“estj. 3w2.’’ 

height

“five foot six. empirically verified.” 

orientation:

“lesbian, last i had enough free time to check.”

nationality/ethnicity:

“american. primarily german and scandinavian ancestry.”

fave fruit 

“nectarine, left to my own devices. learning to appreciate leftover cantaloupe picked around on fruit plates.”

fave season:

“summer. warm, sunny, long days.”

fave flower: 

“orchids.”

fave scent 

“lavender, jasmine, eucalyptus.” 

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: 

“coffee. at least three shots of espresso. oat milk. two pumps of hazelnut syrup, no sugar.”

average hours of sleep: 

“three. when you have an infant, you learn to sleep when they sleep.”

dog or cat person

“cats. otto curled up in my lap at the end of a long day is the only thing that keeps me going, sometimes.” 

dream trip 

“any trip. any trip alone. any trip alone without having to worry about what i will find when i come back. greece would be nice, i think.” 

favorite fictional/real character

“peggy olson.”

number of blankets you sleep with? 

“i have a weighted blanket and a quilt at home. and a fleece throw on my office couch that gets more use.”

random fact: 

“i considered going into politics, and interned on a few campaign teams during college. There are many days i regret not following through on that.” 

i know i’m super late to this, so major apologies for repetitive tags and extra no pressure out to the usuals @belorage @hctknives @fourlittleseedlings @galaxycunt @lordundying @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @afarcryfrommymain @poetikat @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @deputyash @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @thedeadthree @nightbloodbix @miyabilicious @henbased @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @strafethesesinners @jackiesarch @v0idbuggy @orionlancasterr @stacispratt @professorpineapple @strangefable @shallow-gravy @inafieldofdaisies @corvosattano @socially-awkward-skeleton opt in for tags on writing stuff here!

[broodybuck]

Breaking Up the Neighbors | Series Part 1

Series Summary: Steve moves into his dream home and falls for his engaged neighbor.

Series Tags: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Rated E | Tags: 18+ explicit smut, consensual cheating, pining, neighbors AU, no powers AU, top Steve, bottom Bucky, established Bucky and Zemo

[Masterpost]

The first day Steve moves into his dream home, he meets his new neighbor, Bucky. The first moment he sees Bucky, he’s genuinely awestruck with the man’s beauty, and for a split second, he thinks this house might lead him to the love of his life. Until Bucky introduces him to his fiancé, Zemo.

Over the next few weeks, Steve learns the basics about his engaged neighbors. How they are actually high school sweethearts but waited so long to get engaged because they didn’t want to rush things and Zemo travels a lot for work. How Zemo’s into flashy clothes and jewelry while Bucky wears jeans and a t-shirt most days. How Bucky reads the Sci-fi novels from their bookshelves and Zemo only reads the classics. And how regardless of their long years together, Steve still can’t make sense of their relationship. They don’t seem like a match at all. But hey, who is he to judge?

Well, he judges the next time Zemo goes on a business trip and Bucky invites Steve over for a guy’s night. Steve heads over early and Zemo answers the door. 

“Oh, hey…” Steve starts as the other man smiles.

“Hello, Steven. I’m just heading to the airport now. James will be right down,” Zemo tells him.

Steve nods, “Great, have a safe trip.”

“I expect everything will run smoothly. I’m looking forward to the California air.”

“Sure, yeah,” Steve agrees.

Footsteps sound from their right and they both watch Bucky descend the stairs. He looks like he just woke up even though it’s nearing seven at night. His hair is tousled, he’s wearing a loose t-shirt and gym shorts. 

“Can you at least look decent for our guest?” Zemo snaps quietly.

Bucky stops short and mumbles a quick sorry before turning around and heading back up the stairs. Even though he looks fine, Steve thinks watching him go, he looks so fine all the time. 

Zemo turns back with a forged smile, “James is just changing. Have a swell night.”

“Thanks, uh, you too,” Steve says.

Steve steps inside as Zemo exits and locks the door behind him. Steve stands uncomfortably in the foyer, wondering if the couple said goodbye to each other earlier. 

Bucky remerges a few minutes later. His hair has been brushed and he’s now wearing a fitted shirt with jeans. Steve wants to tell him he didn’t have to change but he reminds himself it’s not his place.

Besides, once Bucky smiles and greets Steve with a warm handshake, Steve’s too distracted to remember anything he was about to say. 

Within ten minutes, they’re on the couch with two beers and a bowl of popcorn sitting in between them. They’re watching a comedy movie but Steve’s hardly paying attention. Not when he’s imagining how salty and buttery Bucky’s lips probably taste right now. 

He envies the thought that if Zemo were here, the man could just lean over and kiss that mouth. Then Steve wonders if Zemo would even like licking the butter off Bucky’s lips. Flashing back to his departure, Steve imagines Zemo reprimanding Bucky to wipe his mouth clean. Steve shakes his head at the thought.

“What?” Bucky comments.

Steve looks over and Bucky’s staring at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Nothing, just watching,” Steve lies, motioning to the screen.

“You disapprove of salmon?”

“What?” Steve asks confused.

“That whole scene was about her ordering the salmon and him talking about how to cut fish,” Bucky tells him.

Steve’s eyes blink wide.

“Oh, no. I… wasn’t paying attention. Sorry, just in my head.”

“About what?” 

Steve looks over at him. Bucky calmly shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth, chewing and waiting silently for Steve to answer. 

“Nothing.”

Bucky shrugs and lets it go. They don’t know each other well enough and Bucky seems like a pretty chill guy in general. It makes Steve question again what he sees in an up-tight man like Zemo. There must be more to their past, Steve considers.

“It’s nice to have a guy our age next door now,” Bucky changes the topic. “Before you, it was two old couples on each side of us.”

“I’m happy to be invited,” Steve says, admiring the beautiful profile of his neighbor’s face.

“Maybe sometime Zemo can join us too. He’s just really busy.”

Steve nods, he doesn’t need Zemo to ever make time. He likes guys’ night just like this. But to be nice, he asks, “Have you and Zemo started planning the wedding yet?” 

“Not really,” Bucky says, “Zemo hired a bunch of people to plan it for us. We have a meeting with them a month from now.”

“Oh, so you don’t get to pick anything?”

Bucky shrugs, “I’m not really picky. I honestly wouldn’t be having such an elaborate thing but you know Zemo.”

“I don’t really know him,” Steve reminds him.

“Right,” Bucky huffs out a laugh. “He’s into all the fancy shit. He wants a grand party as he calls it.”

“But doesn’t it matter what you want?” Steve asks.

“I mean, I’m gonna be at the meeting to make the final choices. I’ll have a say too.”

“But will any of it even be your style?” 

Bucky pauses, staring down for a moment as if he considering this. He looks back up with a faint smile.

“No, but I don’t care that much.”

They sit in a beat of silence and Steve worries he’s made things awkward.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Steve says.

“It’s alright.”

More silence follows and Steve’s glad for the ongoing movie to overlay the dead air between them.

“So what about you?” Bucky says.

“What about me?”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Oh, no.” 

“What’s your type? Maybe I could set you up,” Bucky offers.

Steve turns to him and swallows the word you from his tongue. 

“I don’t know. I’m like you, not really picky.”

Bucky laughs, “I was talking about party planning, not men.”

“Well, you seem to have a type,” Steve says without meaning to. 

“Trust me, I didn’t think Zemo was my type when we first met,” Bucky smiles.

“Really?”

“Definitely not but you know, you get to know someone and things change.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Steve says nodding and turning away.

“What?” Bucky pushes, sensing he’s holding back something.

“No, I… shouldn’t say this but I’m surprised by you two is all,” Steve admits uneasily.

“What do you mean?

“I mean, it’s hard for me to see it. You two, what you have in common, you’re a bit of an odd couple. But I just met you guys. I’m sure I’m the only one who doesn’t see it yet.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment. Steve looks over at him and is about to apologize when Bucky says, “We’re different but Zemo and I have… a long history and… it’s hard to explain.”

“You don’t have to explain anything. Please, I’m totally out of line here,” Steve insists. 

“You’re fine,” Bucky tells him then glances down at the coffee table. “I’m gonna grab us more beers.” 

~~~

Steve worries he may have crossed a line with Bucky. He knows he was overstepping the other night, but he can’t help wanting to be on Bucky’s side. 

Steve’s outside a few mornings later, grabbing his mail on the way back from his five a.m. run. He spots Zemo sitting on the porch. Steve waves politely at his neighbor from his driveway.

“You’re quite the early riser, Steven,” Zemo remarks.

“I like to get my runs in at dawn. How about yourself?” 

“Oh, I just like to enjoy my coffee while watching the sunrise.”

“Bucky ever join you?” Steve asks curiously.

Zemo laughs heartily, ”Oh no, James won’t be up till noon.”

Steve smiles automatically as the image of a sleepy Bucky in bed slips into his mind. He can so easily picture himself sliding under the covers and enjoying a morning snuggle with that bushel of brown hair; that warm, naked skin.

“Steven?” Zemo’s voice knocks Steve back to reality. 

“Yes.”

“You alright there?”

“Never better. Have a good day!” Steve waves and hurries into the house.

He seriously needs to get a grip. Bucky is engaged to be married!

[limewatt]

splatoon 3 is fun i think i’m maybe mediocre at best

[tsumtsumsthighs]

written for @nocturnalazura 's frying pan collab!

toge inumaki x gn!reader sfw/fluff

warnings: toge gets smacked in the face (by accident). even though this is sfw, toge is still aged up.

word count: 564

note: aaaaa i actually got this ready on time i can't believe it

You hum to yourself as you lay out all the freshly cut vegetables on the counter. Sunshine flows through the kitchen window; you can see the trees softly swaying in the breeze. You open up a cupboard under the counter, grabbing a bowl to mix in your ingredients. 

The door of your apartment clicks open and promptly closes. Familiar footsteps echo on the floor until your boyfriend appears in the doorway.

“Kelp.”

You grin and look up to see Toge smiling at you. “Hello, my love!” You call out. You scoot around the open cabinet and run up to hug him. “How was your day?” you ask, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. 

“Salmon.”

You giggle, “I’m glad you had a decent day. I’m making dinner! You can go get comfy or whatever. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

Toge nods but stays just to watch you buzz around. You’re so eager to prepare him a fresh, warm meal. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He knows it can’t be easy for you, living with him. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t wonder how different your relationship would be if he could talk properly.

But here you are anyway, with a smile on your face and talking to him as if he could just as easily respond. 

You skip by the open cabinet again, not bothering to close it for whatever reason. You start chatting about your day and bend down to grab a frying pan from a different cabinet. 

Toge listens intently, he loves to hear your stories. He watches your facial expressions closely, seeing how caught up you get in your own tales. The way you huff when annoyed or beam when you’re happy. He notices it all.

You stand up straight again, not paying attention to anything except the story you were telling and the vegetables that belonged in the pan. 

You spin on your heels, eyes on the stove ahead of you. Utterly oblivious to the cabinets you left open, you march forward at full speed. Toge can see what’s about to happen. You’re going to trip and most likely injure yourself. Unfortunately, you’re still blabbering on, unaware of your predicament.

He makes a dash to close the cabinet door, but before he can fully think it through, he yells, “Stop!”

Your body freezes instantly. Hearing Toge’s voice didn’t just freeze you in place. It startles you enough to lose your grip on the frying pan you were carelessly twirling around. 

It feels like it happens in slow motion. The pan flips through the air, in a perfect arch, directly into Toge’s face. There’s a loud bang! followed by a yelp as it lands on his foot. Toge rubs his face, the sudden impact making him release you from your frozen state. 

“Oh god Toge are you okay?” you frantically close the cabinet before rushing over to him. You softly caress your boyfriend’s already bruising face. 

He nods, placing his hand over yours, “Salmon.”

You shake your head, “Hold on, let me grab an ice pack for your face.”

You rush over to the freezer and bring him a small blue pouch. You touch it to his face and he scrunches up his nose, annoyed by the cold. 

“Don’t be a baby now, Toge. We don’t want this to get swollen.” 

“Fish flakes.” He grumbles.

“Shush.”

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (2)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 2,987 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, and @hoebii​​ for editing this for me.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

When you woke up, the cat was nowhere to be found, and your pillow was missing. It was just your luck that the random cat you had saved would end up being a kleptomaniac. You sighed and began to get ready for your day. It wasn’t like you could do anything about it. The cat was probably scared and confused, and you couldn’t blame him for wanting to be comfortable.

As you passed your TV stand, you bent down to peer underneath it. Copper eyes stared back at you. You greeted the cat and his tail swished back and forth against the floor, annoyed. So he wasn’t into mornings, then.

Heading into the kitchen, you quickly made yourself a cup of coffee. If the cat wasn’t a morning person, then you would probably get along. You were an early riser, but that was mostly due to insomnia, not because you actually enjoyed being awake.

You brought him the rest of the chicken you had cut up the night before, prepared with his morning dose of the antibiotics. Laying down on the floor, you pushed the plate under the TV stand for him.

He sniffed at the chicken, eyes not leaving your face as he started to eat. His canines were long and pointy, you noticed, and if you paid attention when his mouth was closed, you could barely see the tip of the right one poking out from his lips.

“I’m going to go shopping today to get you some stuff.” The cat didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. He was a cat. “I know you’re feeling better, but please try not to jump on stuff. You’ll hurt yourself more, and I really can’t afford another weekend trip to the vet.” His copper eyes seemed to soften at that for a moment before hardening back into a glare.

You weren’t sure what you did to make the cat constantly glare at you. Maybe he had a resting grouch face. Maybe he was just uncomfortable in his new surroundings. You hoped that, if nothing else, he would eventually warm up to you. All the pets you’d had in the past had opened up to you right away, although you supposed that was because they were babies when your family had adopted them. You’d never adopted an adult cat before.

“Eat up,” you told him before pushing yourself off the floor. “I’ll be back soon.”

The pet store was larger than you remembered it being. When you were a kid shopping with your mother for your pets, there were only a few departments in the store. There was, of course, sections for cats and dogs, as well as areas for fish, birds, reptiles, and small mammals. Now though, in addition to the old departments, there were additional sections for hybrids of all kinds--there was even a department dedicated to large and exotic hybrids like lions, panthers, giraffes, and elephants.

Hybrids weren’t a new species by any means, but it had only been in the past decade or so that people had fully started to embrace them in society. Before, shops that catered to hybrids were usually small and boutique--hybrids used to only be seen as pets or servants, and ones that lived without ownership were few and far between. But after fighting for and receiving the rights they deserved, hybrids had become more prevalent in society. There was even a hybrid serving in the president’s cabinet, and quite a few serving in other high-ranking government positions.

You wandered through the cat section of the pet store, unsure of what to buy. You had a couple toys in your cart--catnip mice and little springs and balls that had bells in them. You knew the cat was somehow going to act offended by them, but you reminded yourself that he’s a cat, and indoor cats needed something to stimulate their minds.

You also had put some cat shampoo in your cart. The cat was dirty, and you weren’t sure how much blood was going to be caked into his fur under the bandage, so you figured a bath was somewhere in his immediate future.

Sighing, you grabbed a bag of air-dried food. He would probably hate that, too, but you couldn’t keep feeding him raw chicken. For one thing, you couldn’t stand the feel of it, and the less you had to touch the raw meat, the better. But also, chicken was expensive, and while your job paid decently, you weren’t sure how well it could support an all-raw diet for the cat. This air-dried food was turkey and salmon, and would be the next closest thing to raw.

Eventually, you would probably end up getting the cat a cat tree, but you didn’t think it was a good idea right now. With his shoulder injury, he really shouldn’t be climbing or jumping, and a cat tree would only invite that more. So you left the aisle, even though they had a tree that had a little house you knew he would love to hide in.

Before checking out, you stopped by the little kiosk that sold ID tags and collars. You knew he would hate wearing a collar, but if he ever escaped, you wanted to know someone could return him to you. You would ask the vet about microchipping later, but for now, a collar would have to do. Looking at the options, you couldn’t help but laugh. Most of the plain collars were pink or had things like little butterflies on them. A few had bells, which you knew he would find absolutely repulsive, and a couple others had bowties. You considered a dark blue plaid one with a bowtie, but decided against it. As cute as he would look, you knew the cat would probably bite you if you went anywhere near him with it.

You settled on a collar covered in piano keys. It was the plainest one they had in stock that wasn’t bright pink. You grabbed a small, circular tag, too. He would hate it, but at least maybe if you picked the least offensive options, the cat would tolerate wearing a collar.

On the way home, you stopped and grabbed a coffee from the chain cafe down the street from your apartment. You were still a little tired, and when you got home, you were glad for the extra caffeine.

“I’m home, kitty!” you called into the seemingly empty apartment. You hadn’t really been expecting the cat to be anywhere out in the open, but a small part of you had hoped.

Walking into the kitchen, you deposited the couple bags from the pet store on the table. You couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Nothing was broken or in the wrong place that you could see from first glance, but the niggling feeling in the back of your mind wouldn’t go away. Something had been moved in your kitchen. Your mug from your coffee this morning was washed and sat in your drying rack, along with another cup that you had thought you put away and the dish from last night that you had used to feed the cat. You didn’t remember washing the dishes this morning, but you were still a little tired, so maybe you had and just forgot.

You didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary, so you let it go, choosing instead to go find your cat. As expected, you found him under the TV stand. He was panting as if he had just run under there from somewhere else in the house.

“You know you’re allowed to be in other rooms, right?” you asked him softly, pulling the empty plate out so you could take it to the kitchen. “You don’t have to run under here every time I come home.” Copper eyes met yours for a second, and you could see panic in them. Then you saw it. The bandage around his shoulder was gone.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped it securely. He must have really been running around the house to not only loosen it, but to dislodge the bandage entirely.

“What were you doing while I was gone, dude?” you questioned. The cat looked terrified. His eyes were large as saucers, his ears flat against his head. His mouth was open in a silent hiss, his long canine teeth on full display. “Are you hurt?” That seemed to catch him off guard. “Are you still bleeding? Can I see?” You reached into your back pocket and pulled out your phone. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to,” you said softly, waving your phone in the dark. “But can you at least turn so I can see?”

It took you a second to realize that, again, you were talking to a cat. He wasn’t going to listen to you, despite how human his reactions to you seemed to be. In the second that it took you to remind yourself that your cat is, in fact, a cat, his demeanor changed. His ears were still pressed back against his head, but he seemed less agitated, more resigned. He crawled toward you slowly, the limp almost entirely gone.

When he was out from under the TV stand, he stood fully. You pushed yourself up so you could sit and examine him. As you reached for him, he backed away slightly. His copper eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds before they flicked away, focusing on the floor. He stood still and allowed you to scoop him up into your lap.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, scratching his head gently. “Let me just look at your shoulder.”

You ran your hand over the joint and he froze. For a second, you thought maybe he was going to bolt back under the TV stand. But he sat there stiffly, allowing you to feel for the bite marks and anything that might still be bleeding.

You found nothing. Not even a scab. The only signs of the dog attack yesterday were a ring of indents--scars, you presumed--that ran from his shoulder blades down to his chest and onto his leg. There was no way he had healed that fast.

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you smiled at him. “If you don’t want to wear the bandage any more, you don’t have to,” you said soothingly, scratching at the base of his ear. His copper eyes met yours, and you pulled away at the apprehension in them.

He stepped out of your lap as soon as your hand was away from him. You nodded once, smiling at him. “I’m going to go do some work, kitty. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

You were a researcher. Always had been. When you were looking for apartments in the city, you had created spreadsheets and pro/con lists and had spent weeks researching neighborhoods. And when you decided on the right neighborhood, you had debated floor plans, after weeks of second-guessing finally settling on the single floor, three bedroom, two bathroom with the decent sized kitchen and living room.

You hadn’t done any research before taking in the cat. You loved cats, had had several growing up. You knew enough about them to not need to do any research before committing to taking home the stray living near your parents’ house.

Maybe you should have.

Although you weren’t exactly sure how researching could have possibly prevented anything. You pushed it out of your mind, though, choosing instead to focus on your next work project.

Except you couldn’t focus. Your client was a hybrid-owned cafe just outside the city, and you were trying to design their menus. Normally, it wouldn’t take you long at all. They were great clients, and they had given you all the information you needed, but your mind kept drifting to the cat in your living room. You assumed he had crawled back under the TV stand. He seemed to be comfortable enough under there, although clearly he felt comfortable leaving the shadows when you weren’t home.

And then there was the problem of his name. You had no idea what to call him, but you were sure he had a name. Though how you’d figure it out, you had no idea.

You had wanted to watch this movie for months. It had appeared on streaming services around Christmastime, but it was now April, and you still hadn’t had the chance to watch it. You curled up on your sectional in the living room to watch it, a bowl of popcorn sitting beside you. You had turned the lights off in the living room, so the only major source of light was what was coming from the TV, and it was a fairly dark movie.

Though you were invested in the plot, you still scrolled through your phone, your attention divided between social media and what was happening on the television.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a shadow moving under your TV stand. Your cat’s head poked out a second later, copper eyes watching you scroll through your social media. In another second, the rest of his body emerged from the shadows. You forced yourself to watch the movie. You didn’t want to freak him out by watching him. When you glanced back at where he had emerged, he was gone.

The movie was about halfway over when you noticed him again, slinking back into the living room from the hallway. Where he had gone, you had no idea. But he sat for a moment, staring at you from beside the wall. You had grabbed a blanket in the time that he had been gone. Your apartment tended to get chilly at night sometimes--it was old, and the insulation wasn’t the best--and you were a little cold.

Before you knew what was happening, he was up on the couch and in your lap, laying in the valley between your outstretched legs. He paused for a moment, copper eyes meeting yours as if gauging your reaction. In the dim light from the TV, you could see that hint of panic again, as if he was terrified you would shout or push him away. You smiled at him gently, resituating so more of your lap was available and going back to scrolling through your phone.

The cat was apparently satisfied with your reaction, because he readjusted himself, as well, curling up so he was taking up more real estate on your lap. You didn’t mind. His little body put off quite a lot of heat, and from what you could feel of him through the blanket, he was cold, too. Eventually, he settled in, his head rested against your leg beside your free hand, his tail flopped into the crook of your elbow, the tip flicking lightly back and forth.

After a moment, you felt him shift again, and you almost jumped when you felt his head press into your hand. It took you a second, and a few more tentative bumps from him, but you eventually opened your hand and allowed him to press his forehead into your palm. You rubbed your thumb gently over the soft fur of his cheek. He leaned into your touch and you could feel him relaxing. You heard the rumbles of a purr start to stutter in his chest. It wasn’t constant like other cats’--it sounded vaguely like popcorn, crackling and popping at random.

You sighed, resting one hand on his back and continuing to stroke his cheek. He stiffened for a moment and raised his head, wide eyes staring into your face, before he slowly started to relax again.

“I can’t keep calling you kitty,” you said softly when he was comfortable. He didn’t raise his head, but his ear swiveled in your direction to show he was paying attention. “And I’m terrible at names, so you’re going to have to figure out a way to tell me what yours is. Unless you want me to call you something ridiculous like Smudge or Shadow.” The cat grunted. Apparently he didn’t like those names, either. “I didn’t think so.”

Your attention returned to the movie, but you kept petting him. His stuttering purr resumed. He directed your hand by nudging it, up his head and down to his shoulder. He adjusted how he was laying so you could rub where the scars of yesterday’s bite marks were. You massaged the area gently, his purring increasing in volume.

His fur was soft and considerably less dirty than it had been that morning. If you concentrated, he smelled like your shampoo.

“I have to take some stuff back to the pet store tomorrow,” you said finally. “So you’ll have some time alone to do whatever.”

He froze, and despite the movie playing, it was quiet without his purring. His eyes were wide, and he hissed, but aside from his ears flattening, he didn’t move. He was scared--no, he was terrified.

It broke your heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You kept your voice soft and even. “You can stay here for as long as you’d like. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

You sighed. You still felt a little weird talking so seriously with a cat, but his reactions confirmed what your research had told you. You had questions, and you were a little concerned about the logistics of everything, but you had started to come to terms with it.

Him smelling like your shampoo. The dishes being done. The stolen pillow and blanket. The things that were moved ever so slightly. The oddly appropriate reactions to what you were saying. How fast he had healed. Maybe you’d always known. Maybe that’s why you still talked to him like he was a person.

He was a person, more or less.

Your cat was a hybrid.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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Taglist: @min-yus, @melindagrace31, @shrimpmsg, @ghostkat23, @demcreeps, @ggsmashgg, @findingourtreasure, @20emma0, @springbean​, @black-rose-29, @cuteipat, @agustneeds, @deeepvibes, @yzkyzkuniverse, @softbbyg0rl​

[malleux]

Hey I have a request for corpse! I think during either his q&a livestream from a few years back or the one from last year he said he’s bad at cooking and I would therefore like to request the reader coming over to his place as like a ‘meal prepper’ who cooks like all kinds of meals for him and one time he invited her to stay for dinner? Idk if it’s too complicated lmao but I’m just really feeling some fluff rn

dinner. | corpse husband

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x GN!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff, Crack

-> Warnings: Cursing

-> A/N: hi anon, i accidentally deviated from the request just a little bit, so i’m sorry! i hope it’s still okay!

send me an ask or a message if you’d like to be on any of my taglists!

“Corpse, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry! I really thought I had it this time.”

You walked into the small kitchen in Corpse’s apartment, looking haphazardly at the… creation in his cake pan. The inside of the cake looked something akin to a pudding, making you cringe.

“Did- did you cook it long enough?”

“Yeah? It said like 35 minutes. I did everything right, I thought.” Corpse’s tone became dejected and you knew he was beating himself up for messing up.

“You used the right amount of water?” You asked. He nodded. “Two eggs?” Another nod. “What size eggs?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you bought me in the fridge.”

You suddenly laughed out loud, making Corpse quirk an eyebrow. “Those are extra large eggs, so that you have more when you make them for breakfast, silly. The recipe needs regular sized eggs, that’s why it’s all weird inside.”

He didn’t say much, instead looking down at the tile floor. You felt bad for laughing, but you couldn’t help it. He truly was trying his hardest despite knowing that he wasn’t the best chef in the world. You stepped forward and placed a hand on his cheek, making him look at you. You pretended not to see the blush on his cheeks and fought to keep your own at bay.

“Tell you what. Tonight, I’ll come over and teach you how to cook my favorite dish. We can hang out and eat together, too. How does that sound?”

Corpse only leaned his cheek into your hand and nodded.

A few hours later, Corpse opened his apartment door, letting you in and helping you with the large bag of ingredients that you had brought with you from your own apartment down the hall.

He grabbed a large pack of uncooked chicken from the bag and looked at you questionably, but you just beamed up at him.

“Chicken parm!”

“So we’re cooking fancy shit, huh? Didn’t take you to be the high maintenance type.” Corpse teased.

You slapped him on the shoulder and he had a supress the small shiver that ran up his spine at the touch. “You know I love cooking- of course I’m gonna know some decent dishes. You just never eat anything other than takeout, but once you get a taste of my cooking you’ll never go back.”

“That or I’ll die from how bad it is.” You gave him a look. “Kidding. What do I need to do?”

You thought for a moment. “Coat the chicken in flour, then in egg, and then coat it in the crumbs I’m about to pull out. Sounds easy enough, right?”

Corpse nodded and got the supplies out, filling a bowl with flour while you pulled out a pan and began heating up the stove. He grabbed one of the chicken breasts and examined it for a minute before putting it in front of his upper lip and turning to you with a childish grin.

“I’ve got a moustache.”

“Corpse!” You snorted, covering your mouth to hide a laugh, “Get that away from your face! You’re gonna get salmon vanilla.”

“Salmon- what? Fucking salmonella? Say it right, you dunce.” Corpse laughed.

“You say it right! I don't want you to get Sam and Ella!”

Corpse was nearly crying at this point, doubling over from laughing as you threw your head back in another cackle. He could barely catch his breath as he grabbed a small bit of unused flour and flicked it in your face, giggling out a small “shut up!”

You gasped, suddenly feeling the powder cover your face and Corpse stood up straight, ready to apologize if he’d upset you.

Instead, you grabbed a handful of the flour and tossed it on him, running away laughing as he processed the white powder now adorning his black shirt before smiling and taking off after you.

“No! No, let me go, I’m sorry!” You cried out as he caught up to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and hoisting you up to bring you back into the kitchen. “Give me your shirt, I’ll wash it! I promise!”

Corpse smirked, still holding onto you as you struggled in his grasp. “You want me to take my shirt off?”

You flushed, realizing what you’d said. “No- oh my God- Please! Put me down and we can finish the chicken permission!”

He laughed again, “Only if you promise to start saying words right.”

“Okay! I promise!”

Corpse set you down gently and you both stayed silent, taking a moment to catch your breaths and soothe the ache in your cheeks from smiling so much. It seemed like every time you were in Corpse’s presence, you were smiling. You were the happiest when you were with him and you certainly weren’t complaining about it.

The rest of the dinner preparation went without a hitch, despite Corpse’s nervousness about messing something up. You watched him out of the corner of your eye often, checking on him and making sure he was okay. Not once did he mess up. You were proud and made sure to tell him often.

Finally, the dish was finished and plated. Flour covered most of the kitchen, but the dinner was complete and looked delicious. You couldn’t wait to chow down.

“You’re- you’re staying for dinner, right?” Corpse looked back at you as he headed to his couch to sit down

“No, I was going to simply leave.” You responded sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes, holding back a grin as you grabbed your own plate and followed him to the living room. You both ate your first bites of chicken at the same time, Corpse watching you for your reaction.

“It’s perfect!” You exclaimed, “At this rate, you’re gonna be like that chef off of Ratatoodie. What’s his name? Linguine?”

Corpse let out an incredulous breath at your purposefully awful pronunciation. “Shut the fuck up, oh my God.” He joked.

You laughed and leaned your head against his shoulder. “For real, though, it’s amazing. You did amazingly and I’m super proud of you.”

Corpse stayed silent, only reaching an arm around you and squeezing your shoulders as he scrolled through Netflix to find a movie to watch with your dinner before finally speaking up.

“If I’m Linguine, then you’re the little rat helping me out and supporting me behind the scenes.”

“Aw, Corpse- wait, did you just call me a rat?”

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corpse taglist: @namjoons-crabssss @lookingforaplacetosleep @teenloves @princess00wifi @pillowjj @nvm-idgaf @creativedogs @wildflowerwhore @chillininahottub-withaghost @whyisquill @holosexualunicorn7000 @ourheavenlyemotions @corbins-kinda-smart @harryhighkey @sokkaspaintings @saturn2000 @a-dot-dev @bean04 @helena-way07 @tooturntashbash @locallolli @simonsbluee @redperson58 @reddeserths @annshit @corpsie-bby @emperor-pizza @vacaprincess @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @rolls-and-rolex @supernovavision @bestgirlkonan @hughugh20 @theolwebshooter @johnjacobjingleheimerschmidt @shinyyoonie @milybones @propertyofdindjarin @qatiee @sunshineandrainyflowers @dontlookatmeidk @kxsmicsmain @corpsesgirl @witchybarb @princessnnylzays @petit-chausseur-detoiles @mmonamona @heartbroken-writer @squintyangel @crapimahuman @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s @mute-chaos @bluewneptune @yongboxerrr @emmapotato88 @devilish-ducky @marmaladebreadwithhoney @chimchimsugakookies @redlikeiron @crystalbaby12 @persephoncs @btsiguess-kpop @utopiakys

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[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k 

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm. 

Notes: Multipart fic, slow burn. Updates to come soon (and dw, fic’s completed, so you won’t be left hanging ^^)

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

‘You sure you want the job?’ Miya Osamu asks her when she turns up at his shop, application in hand, responding to the advertisement in Onigiri Miya’s window for part time staff -  general help needed, ability to ride a scooter a plus point - it had read. 

There are only fifteen seats in Onigiri Miya, and hardly any space for her to fit her backpack between her knees, but sunlight streams in invitingly from the glass shop front and there is a faint smell of grilled rice and fried fish that reminds her of weekly lunches at her grandparents’ home.  

‘Yes’, she answers, gesturing with her thumb at her scooter parked outside the shop. ‘I think I’m a good fit for this job’. The corner of Miya Osamu’s mouth lifts ever so slightly, and he leans forward in his seat, hand extended to her.  

‘Welcome to Onigiri Miya then’, he says before proceeding to brisk walk her through the ins and outs of the shop, the scope of her responsibilities, work schedule and (most importantly) her wage, leaving her head spinning at the end of the impromptu briefing. Miya Osamu seems passionate about his craft, his face brightening up with enthusiasm when he talks her through the various onigiris he sells, the type of rice he buys (from a boutique rice farmer in Hyogo, apparently), and he’s generous enough to offer her a decent wage, more than what she could be making working in a combini. 

She stands by her bike on the roadside, tilting her face to the setting sun. There is the faintest smell of rain in the air. 

She soon falls into the rhythm of Onigiri Miya. 

Osamu is strangely territorial over food preparation, so her tasks in the kitchen are mainly limited to washing rice (thrice in clean water, drained thoroughly) and doling out cups of tea and bowls of soup. When he finds out that she’s studying accountancy at Osaka University, he immediately places her in charge of the cash register (and later, in charge of their books). Her scooter comes in handy when he needs her to do urgent stock runs or deliveries to customers. 

She learns the name of their regular customers - Abe-san, who only ever orders salmon onigiris with a side of pork bone soup. Kawasaki-san, who spends half her meal complaining about her aches and pains to a sympathetic Osamu. Mina-san, who turns up every day for breakfast after Osamu includes spam onigiri on his menu after he overhears that she misses her hometown of Okinawa.  

Osamu calls her over at the end of her shift on a busy Saturday night. ‘I’ve a large order for an old customer of mine. D’you think you could help deliver it?’ 

There is a gleam in his eye that she does not quite like.  

‘You sound like you’re sending me out to slaughter’ she comments half-jokingly, to which he responds with an amused shrug of his shoulder. She considers whether it’s bad form to throw her shoe at her boss’s head, but decides not to waste her time. So she shoulders the large sack of food, heading off on her scooter to a neat apartment building in a quiet neighbourhood.

Well – it would have been a quiet neighbourhood but for the music blasted from the top floor of her destination. She has to cover her ears the minute the elevator opens and wonders if their neighbours are deaf or dead because there is no way otherwise the apartment wouldn’t have copped a noise complaint. Grimacing at the tape over the doorbell, she knocks politely on the door. 

There is no response. 

She knocks once more, less politely this time, but still the door does not open. ‘Hello, your delivery is here!’ she calls firmly, slamming her fist down on the sturdy wooden door. 

There is still no response.  

She’s about to turn around when the door crashes open and a blonde head pops out. Her jaw falls open because standing before her is the spitting image of her boss that just sent her out with this order, albeit blonde and ever so slightly broader.  

‘You’re not ‘Samu, but you’re pretty’, he leers, leaning against the doorway. 

She’s tempted to deck him but she’s pretty sure that would mean losing her job. So reminding herself that all that’s standing between her and her bed is this delivery, she bites her tongue and extends the bag of food to him. ‘Your order, sir. Payment please.’ 

‘Didn’t ‘Samu mention that I don’t need to pay?’ The blonde Osamu replica tugs the bag of food towards him, frowning when she refuses to let go. 

‘Not that I know of - and I can’t let you have your order unless you pay for it’, she answers firmly, foot against the door. 

He straightens into his height in a thinly veiled attempt to intimidate her - and while he’s at least six foot of solid muscle from what she can see, it’s thanks to years of working in her father’s shop with men at least a full head taller and broader than her that she’s not afraid to tip her chin up at him with her widest, sharpest grin until he looks away to draw out a couple of thousand yen bills from his pocket, enough to cover the bill. 

‘Fine, fine - tell ‘Samu he wins’, he grumbles, slamming the door in her face. 

She waits until she’s back at her scooter and a good distance away from the apartment before she dials Osamu’s number. 

‘What was that?’ she asks without preamble when he picks up.  

‘What was what?’ Osamu answers, sounding uncharacteristically amused. 

‘Don’t play cute with me! Did you just make me deliver food to your brother?’ 

‘My twin actually’, and he ignores her squawk of indignation. ’Did he pay up?’

‘What do you take me for - of course! I didn’t let go of the food until he did.’

‘Huh’, Osamu responds, sounding surprised. ‘That’s the first time he actually gave in’. And with that, he laughs merrily and hangs up on her. 

She shrugs it off as one of her boss’s weird quirks. 

Except it doesn’t stop as being a weird quirk but turns into an annoying habit. 

Atsumu quickly becomes a regular customer (she learns during one of the twins’ many bickering sessions that he’s back in Osaka after several competitions), and Osamu latches on pretty fast that she’s far better than he is at forcing Atsumu to pay for the food he eats, so he sics her on Atsumu every time the blonde setter shows up at the shop for a meal. 

‘Pay up’ she orders Atsumu for the fourth time this week. Her tone gives no berth for refusal so Atsumu reaches for his pockets even as he grumbles his complaints about ‘cowardly scrubs’ and ‘ crazy bitches’ at a grinning Osamu. 

‘You should give me a raise for managing your brother’, she complains to Osamu later, and though he raises an eyebrow at her, to her surprise, he does exactly that. 

Osamu proceeds to take advantage of said raise to send her to man their stand at MSBY’s first match of the season, armed with a few hundred onigiris. Business is brisk, but she finds her attention diverted by the sheer speed of the plays and the way the players all seem to have wings in their feet. 

Atsumu in particular catches her eye. Osamu explained to her over a slow day at work about volleyball positions and basic plays, and he boasted about Atsumu’s talent as a setter, how ‘he always takes the best care of his spikers’. Watching him now, even to her untrained eye, she can see how much thought he puts into each of his plays - the way he tricks the blockers to let his spikers fly high above them, the quick side stepping of increasingly frustrated attackers, the dump shots at the most unexpected of times. 

She’s impressed, though she doesn’t want to admit it - because Atsumu has the personality of a puddle of muddy rainwater, and she's fairly sure he'd never let her hear the end of it if he ever finds out. 

So it isn’t surprising when she spots him being hassled by a large gaggle of his fan girls outside the sports hall. They’re hanging off his arms begging him for autographs - and probably something much less innocent from the way his eyes are bugging out of his head. It’s tempting to walk away from him – it’s not as if he’s been particularly nice to her after all, but a few of the more rabid fan girls seem to get a little  too  close for comfort and she figures even he doesn’t deserve that . Plus he probably can’t just shove them off because that might cause yet another PR debacle that she and Osamu have become accustomed seeing in the news, so she breathes a sigh through her nose, cursing her conscience.   

‘Oi asshat, your ride’s here’, she shouts as loudly as she can, shouldering her way to the center of the crowd. His fan girls stare in stunned silence, but Atsumu catches on after she shoves her spare helmet into his chest, and grabbing her wrist for dear life, they sprint all the way to her scooter.  

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never ridden before’, she snaps as he fiddles helplessly at his helmet. 

‘Of course, I have, what d’you take me for, some scrub?’ he retorts when he manages to strap his it on to his head. Her scooter groans under his weight. 

Yes - she itches to retort, because he’s clearly lying. He fights to keep upright as she loops her way through bends on the road and maintains a white knuckled grip on the back of his seat until she comes to a stop two streets away where his fan girls are unlikely to see him. 

‘So, where to?’ she asks him as he wheezes, trying to catch his breath. ‘I could let you off here, or we could grab some food - your choice.’ 

‘Eh… Could we drop by 7-11?’ he chuckles sheepishly. 

‘Really? You want me to take you to a  combini  when your brother literally owns a restaurant?’ 

‘I’m cravin’ an egg mayo sandwich, what’s wrong with that?!’ he yells as she revs off, and she laughs when he squeaks and clings on to her waist. 

They end up at a combini anyway. Atsumu buys his egg mayo sandwich. And a bucket load of oden. And a bagful of karaage. And two pudding cups (singly packed, none of the triple cup kind for him  thank you very much). At least he steers clear of the onigiri section, because Osamu might explode otherwise if he ever finds out. 

‘You’re paying the fine if my bike gets impounded’ she tells him sourly.

‘Relax - it’ll be fine’, he waves his hand airily at her. ‘’Sides, what’s a girl like you doing with a bike?’

‘A girl like me?’ she echoes, tilting her head in confusion. 

‘Y’know - kinda square and all? I assumed so, since ‘Samu mentioned you’re studying to be an accountant’, he clarifies through a mouthful of food. 

‘Square?! ’ she mouths at him, outraged, and he grins unrepentantly back at her, crunching on karaage. She abandons her annoyance to scoot back to avoid the ensuing spray of crumbs. 

‘Do you want me to answer seriously, or was that a rhetorical question, gross pig?’ 

 ‘Please, I’m always serious, darlin’, he drawls. 

She steals a fishcake from him in retaliation and he tries to rap her knuckles with his sandwich. They only settle down when the combini staff glare at them mildly in reproof. 

‘I’ve always wanted to ride a bike ‘cos it seemed like it allowed its rider to be free’, she says, shooting a fond look through the window at her own scooter, rusty and old it may be. 

‘I mean it allows you to get from one place to another, what’s so special about that?’ he asks, cocking his head in confusion.  

‘Mm…well, not just that. You see, when I was younger, I used to be so jealous of my older brothers getting to ride their motorbikes. They refused to let me borrow it, so I stole it one day when they weren’t looking and took off - but because I was so excited, I hit the thrusters so hard on the way up a hill that I ended up crashing on the way down. But right before I crashed, there was a moment when I was on the top of the world with the wind in my face - it was the first time I truly felt  alive .’ 

 She closes her eyes at the memory, her mouth lifting into a smile. ‘And that’s what I become addicted to - chasing that feeling of being completely unfettered from the world, like a bird in the sky. 

He stares at her meditatively, as though she’s a puzzle he can’t quite solve.

‘What!’ she exclaims, the tips of her ears flushing pink, suddenly self-conscious. 

‘Nothin’, darlin’. Just thought that you’re more interesting than I thought’. Ignoring her indignant ‘ what?!’ , he stands up, brushing the crumbs off his lap. ‘Shall we get goin’? It’s about to rain.’ 

 The ride back to his apartment passes in a blur of streetlights and gathering rain clouds, but thankfully it’s not as unpleasant as it was before as Atsumu eases into his seat, moving with her when she drops into a bend, loosening his hands on her waist. Still, she suspects it’s all bravado, as he stumbles stiff legged off the bike when they reach his apartment. 

But as to be expected from a seasoned athlete used to the spotlight, he manages to plaster on a grin, cocky and charming enough to make her blush. 

‘Thanks for the ride’, he says. ‘I wouldn’t mind coming out again with you for a ride sometime’. 

Then he smiles at her, and it’s soft, shorn of the sharp edges she’s used to seeing. It plants an unfamiliar seed of warmth in her core that survives her race home against the storm.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

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

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

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

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

[nicsalazar]

We build || Nicole & Tepin

TIMING: Few weeks ago LOCATION: The night market PARTIES: @cattale &  @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Nicole wants to confirm her suspicions about Tepin, but ends up being a terrible detective. CONTENT WARNING: Drug mentions (catnip???)

It wasn’t dark yet, but Nicole already wandered around the farmer’s market, watching it come to life, gearing up for another night shift. Pax trotted about freely, his newfound appreciation for their night walks evident in his desire to run everywhere. Now that there were no roots or giant trees to worry about, it was possible. She had planned her walk in that specific area with the intention of stopping by Tepin’s stand eventually. Curiosity, that was all. Tepin had invited her. Sort of. That might have been a pleasantry or an attempt at gaining another customer, but still.

Having spotted the woman already, Nicole kept her distance, debating whether or not to approach. It felt wrong, watching someone without their awareness. But it couldn’t be much more different than a jaguar watching their prey. Not that— she was mortified by entertaining that thought. They weren’t animals. Neither of them were prey. She was suspicious, sure. But it wasn’t her style to get up in her face and just ask all the questions she wanted to ask. So instead, she approached slowly, until Tepin could be alerted of her presence. “Need a hand with anything?” she bit the inside of her cheek, nervous. She pointed at herself, “Nicole” came after a beat, because fuck it would’ve been embarrassing if she didn’t remember her.

“Nicole?” Tepin’s eyes widened in surprise. She did not expect her newly made friend to make an appearance tonight, of all nights, when she was just getting back to the swing of things. The recent mess with the giant tree, among other stranger and dangerous things, made her own appearances in the Farmer’s Night Market scarce, though she was not sorely missed. Those that needed to, well, they knew where her cabin was anyway, and those that didn’t need her and her produce as much kept themselves safe and secure, away from the Outskirt’s menaces. “What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!”

Tepin went in with a warm hug, not even hesitating for a bit. Despite only meeting once, there was nothing else that made her feel bound to a new person than the threat of imminent death. To this day, Tepin still had no idea what that whole thing with the demon tree trying to take Nicole out was about, if it was anything more serious, if the creature was now and truly long gone, but she decided to focus on the positives after her own adventure with the guy from the Tourism Board and the captain of the Salmon Ella. “How are you? Are you okay? Do YOU need anything? You look amazing! I’m so glad to meet you again!”

“I… Oh–” They were hugging. Nicole let out a huff, unable to predict the action. And it wasn’t even even a weak one, Tepin was really embracing her. Okay. The initial shock caused her to tense, but she forced herself to act normal. Some people hugged strangers. Apparently Tepin was some people. She tapped the woman’s back lazily, until she could finally breathe again. And…there was that familiar scent again. The main reason she had stopped by. She couldn’t be certain — she never was — but she wasn’t wrong. An animal scent lingered on Tepin as they parted. Maybe she had pets. She didn’t want to get her hopes up.  

“Just…uh,” Pax jumped at the occasion, tail wagging uncontrollably as he came up to meet Nicole’s new friend, and providing her with a decent explanation for her presence. “Yeah, this is– he needed a walk, clearly. And…and I saw the market so I figured–” She shrugged, watching her dog greet Tepin. She realized then that she had the perfect segway. “Pets, hm. You have any?” She shoved her hands inside her jacket, looking around the other stands. “I’m okay. No demon trees in sight. Everything’s growing again” my friends are dead, she didn’t say, but forced a smile instead. “It’s good to be able to go out again. And… and to visit–” a friend? Something felt wrong about calling a stranger she met once a friend. “I was hoping to see you here” she settled for, glancing back at the woman. “But uh, what about you? Can I give you a hand?”

“Aww, who’s this little fellow?” As soon as Tepin let Nicole go, her attention was immediately drawn to her friend’s friendly furball friend! She forgot all the worries and doubts she previously had with dogs, the concern that this one might be able to sniff her out, what she was, her so-called condition, even spook the jaguar within. None of that came to mind, though, all of which washed away by its cuteness, the positive energy it shared with her through all that tail wagging. “Oh, uhm, me? I have…a cat,” she lied, obviously. “But she comes and goes. Can’t really control her, you know? Won’t even let me try. Cats, am I right?”

Tepin returned to her stall, and she gestured for Nicole and her cutie patootie friend to follow her, moving some fresh produce out of the way, clearing a spot on the counter just in case they needed to rest their elbows or even plop Nicole’s dog. “I don’t think we’ll ever see one of those again,” Tepin chirped, proud of her contribution in removing the massive tree from the equation and keeping the town safe, even though she barely did anything at Hanging Rock. “Oh, I’m fine. I just got everything set up again. It’s been a while, but it still feels nice… Are you sure you’re okay, though? If you need to talk about something, I’m the perfect wallflower. I can’t gossip. Don’t have that many people to talk to!” She chuckled to herself, stealing another glimpse of the dog. How she envied Nicole for finding such a friend.

Suspicions and real intentions didn’t stop Nicole from smiling warmly at the sight of Tepin and her dog being friendly. “Pax. He’s usually a lot calmer, you know? Uh, he must really like you” she observed, raising a curious eyebrow. Or maybe, he was picking up the familiar scent as well. “Oh”. When Tepin answered the question, she couldn’t ignore her disappointment, even if she tried. It was heavy in her stomach, and Nicole felt stupid for even considering the idea in the first place. There were far more logical explanations. “You do?” Tepin had a cat. That must be what she was picking out. Of course. Not— “Cats. Yeah, cats are okay… I like them too. What’s her name?” It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, but she could still get to know Tepin. 

She followed the other woman to her stall, eyes darting around the place. Nicole was reminded of her family, of her grandparent’s stand. She insisted on helping out when she was a kid, even though she wasn’t much help at all. But it was fun, and before tragedy struck, she always imagined she’d grow up to take care of the business herself. She nodded, careful not to dive too deep into those painful memories. “Yeah!” her voice was airy, uncharacteristically upbeat. “I’m… I’m, I’m alright. Yes.” She chuckled at the suggestion of gossip, shaking her head. She didn’t have anything scandalous to talk about. “Uh, sounded like we had some things in common– so,” this is me trying to do the whole, friendship thing. Before she could finish her sentence, a scent under her nose caught her attention. “Is…I– is it me or– you have catnip around?” she stepped back, careful not to inhale too sharply.

It was almost strange, when it finally dawned on Tepin how dogs usually barked at her aggressively. She wasn’t quite sure why, but they seemed to know the danger that lurked underneath her own existence, the predator within that she could not even dream of controlling. If Tepin thought more about it, perhaps she would realize that dogs could most likely smell the jaguar’s scent. If Tepin thought more about it, perhaps she would even come to the theory that this dog, Pax, might already be familiar with the scent, used to it or even friendly with someone like her. Unfortunately, Tepin preferred to sweep thoughts like those under the rug, choosing instead to focus on the good that comes out of every encounter. “Pax? Isn’t that Latin for something? Aww, he’s such a good boy!” 

“Tepin,” she blurted out without even thinking, only realizing how much it could be a dead giveaway. But she could still twist it into something more believable, can’t she? “I, uhh, call my cat Tepin, too.” She let out a chuckle, scratching her head. Oh, god, how am I even still alive?! “I guess I’m just vain sometimes. It actually means little one, so it seemed appropriate at the moment.” Another lie, though she could definitely see it happening in another life maybe, one where she wasn’t harboring a monster within. “You also don’t have that many people to talk to?” Tepin was a little confused. Sure, Nicole seemed a little shy and stuff, but she also seemed nice and sweet. Or was she just projecting? She gave her a big smile and took out huge ziplock bags filled with catnip. “Sure do! One of my bestsellers!” She exclaimed proudly then immediately yawned.

“Yes. Means peace, or– well, uh… it’s the most common meaning” And Nicole was happy to let people assume that was reason behind Pax’s name. It fit him, after all. But standing in front of Tepin, she figured she could explain things. Gauge her reaction. “I’m– I like history, sort of. Ah… my parents, they taught me a lot– growing up” she nodded towards Pax. “They liked the Maya culture and so– uh, in their calendar there’s a month…” Pax, Nicole smiled at her dog before slowly raising her gaze to meet Tepin’s. “Pax. I always thought… it was the best one, you know. Cause… cause the patron of the month Pax– it’s a jaguar”. Nicole tried not to cringe at how clumsily every word spilled from mouth. It was nice to talk choosing her dog’s name, even if it was a poorly disguised attempt at figuring Tepin out. 

“Tepin” Nicole repeated, eyes narrowed in confusion, but a second later decided to mirror her chuckle. The woman was a little odd, she thought. But she found it a lot less stressful to talk to someone like her than someone who had it all figured out. Nicole wasn’t known for her conversational skills and if Tepin made it easier for her, she couldn’t really complain. “Oh, little one. Yeah, that fits a cat. Must be kinda weird to call for her, no?”

“I’ve people” Nicole confirmed, and felt the smile pull at her lips. She never expected it would feel so nice to be confident of that fact. “It’s.. the talking I have to practice. Working on it” she added, before she saw the bag Tepin pulled. Pretending she was interested in observing the other stands, Nicole distanced herself. At least, she wasn’t trapped inside an elevator being forced to inhale the scent, like last time. Out in the open, it was a lot more manageable. The back of her throat did tingle, though. “That’s…that’s great” she nodded, eyes still fixed on the bag. “I’ve heard some people are also affected by it, how crazy is that?” people who had felines inside, sure, but people nonetheless.   

There were no lessons in Latin that her parents, or her mother’s best friend, taught Tepin. Most of the stranger ones were in another dead language, a long-lost sibling perhaps of the more popular classical language. With a smile, she listened intently to Nicole’s explanations and revelations. At the very last bit, she paused, her eyes widened in surprise, and she made the mistake, or perhaps the correct choice, to turn to her new friend right in their eyes. “A jaguar? That’s…interesting.” 

“Yeah,” Tepin heaved an audible sigh with that word but retained her big grin. “Not that I like calling out for it, though. It just comes whenever it wants, does whatever it wants. Never even listens to me or what I want.” Tepin lost herself in her musings, oblivious to what she could be giving away. In her defense, she dared not think Nicole was out to get the jaguar, far even from the notion of her being like her. Tepin gave everyone else the benefit of the doubt, putting them on a much higher pedestal than herself.

Tepin snapped out of her reverie with the sweetest smile, elated at the idea of Nicole and her people. “Aww! That’s so nice. You might even have more people than me at the moment. That’s always nice,” she swooned, a little jealous but not in a bad way. She can still appreciate her newly made friend’s blessing without seeing as a slight at herself. Most people never do. “Oh, yeah, tell me about it.” Tepin chuckled, shaking her head. “I mean, it definitely helps me sleep and relax, calms me down like nothing else. My customers just use it for their pet, some even resell it, but me?” She heaved another sigh, this time of nostalgic euphoria. “It’s pretty useful when I need it to be.”

Nicole’s nod was short, noticing Tepin’s eyes widening. Should she find that reaction odd? “Right? Really is. I’m… I uh– I like that sorta thing” She was unsure. Maybe Tepin wasn’t giving anything away. Perhaps it was a natural reaction for someone learning a new fact. But it was worth noting, adding it to the list of things she found just a little suspicious about the girl. She offered a smile, before they moved from the topic. 

Despite having the same name, Nicole didn’t think the cat story was particularly strange either. Cats could be little assholes sometimes, it made sense Tepin struggled with her. It was a little odd, however, that she referred to her cat as ‘it’. But– some people were less attached to their pets. Nicole realized right there, that she would’ve made a terrible detective.  “Hm. Sounds like a real problem”. She felt bad for the woman. She would’ve been heartbroken if things hadn’t worked out with Pax. But she couldn’t offer much advice, cats and dogs were different.   

“I could– I can be your people… too” Nicole said, biting the inside of her cheek in reprimand. She never thought there would be disadvantages to expressing herself. But blurting out things just because she felt them was clearly one. As opposed to the endless overthinking she was used to, which kept every word locked inside her until it was too late. She wasn’t sure if it was an adjustment period, but she wished it would end soon. “Just... an offer”, she didn’t think adding that made it any less awkward for her, but maybe it would for Tepin. 

Either way, Nicole had better things to focus on. For example the fact that Tepin had revealed the effects catnip had on her like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Huh…” was there a glimmer of hope, maybe? As far she knew, catnip never worked on humans. Or any other animal shifter for that matter. There were better drugs for them. She glanced at the bag again, her lips curving involuntarily. Another step back, just for precaution. She didn’t want to act weird in front of Tepin. “Well that’s– that’s interesting. Hm. Thought they were just rumors” she figured it was best to switch subjects fast, keep those suspicions close to her chest. She squinted, signaling the  bag. “Could I– I think I’ll buy one of those. For a friend” It wouldn’t hurt, you know. Take the edge off at the end of the day. While she pulled out her wallet, she tried to think of other questions that would help figuring Tepin out. “Salt” thoughts? “I mean, no. Hm– Salt, you got any around… I know it’s not your main– it’s not even– just remembered I don’t have any”.

“You like jaguars?” Tepin raised an eyebrow as she continued prepping her stall. She couldn’t recall how many people, friends even, she’d met who’d say they liked jaguars. Lions and tigers may be, but jaguars? They seem to be relegated to bit players as wild cats, outside of sports teams, anyway, not unlike when someone refers to latinos but only keep in mind Mexicans and Puerto Ricans. Tepin unintentionally shook her head, feeling uncomfortable with her own thoughts. 

“It is,” Tepin heaved a sigh, furrowing her brow as she tried cleaning dirt from an onion or two. “Life might be better if I never met them.” She didn’t quite think that last part through, just raw emotions managing to escape her own filters. The balam had doubts whether that was even possible, not meeting the jaguar within. For all she knows, she was born with it. Might even die if they’re separated. Might not be such a bad thing. She feigned a cough, once again shaking her head. “Sorry, that was an awful thing to say. I just meant…things can be a little hard when they’re around.”

“Oh?” Tepin turned to Nicole with a look of surprise, uncertain what inspired that offer, rather possibility. Softly, she lingered on her face, finding some sort of familiarity with that expression. Was it loneliness? Longing? Regret? It all seemed so intimate to her, as if she was living in Nicole’s shoes. “That’s sweet,” she paused for a bit, looked away, and continued with another onion, though her mind was already wandering through half-imagined scenarios. Her lips curled into a smile, her cheeks growing a little red, when she turned to Nicole. “I would love that. People around me do tend to get…hurt, though, and I wouldn’t want to hurt someone like you.”

“Rumors?” Tepin raised another eyebrow before an overwhelming sense of giddiness and pride washed over her. Any time she could sell anything, she considered it a win, and those things, wins, were far and few in between for her. Quickly, she took a bag of catnip and a paper bag, placing the former in the latter, before wiping her hands and looking around for a pack of salt. Did she even have one? Ah, there it is. She had more than one. With a smile, she chucked that in there, too. Tepin mouthed the total price excitedly, though she did make sure to put just a dab of kindness in there, too. “The salt’s free. Consider it a neighbor thing, like asking for sugar. 

Nicole could find the humor in Tepin’s question. In a weird, dark way. No– ironic, maybe. Did she like jaguars? “They’re okay. Cool beasts, my…my, uh– parents liked them a lot” she didn’t like to have one inside, that was all. She could still admire them in the wild. Her cousins or…something. 

The possibility that Tepin was using animal analogies to speak of her real issue never occurred to her. For Nicole, it just sounded like someone who had a terrible relationship with their pet. Possibly, to the detriment of both parties. “Don’t know the whole— have you thought of letting them go? A shelter maybe…” Tepin had to be pretty tormented by this animal, judging by the way she spoke of it, so letting go might be the healthiest option.

Her smile mirrored Tepin’s, and she waited patiently as the woman let her offer sink in. Nicole frowned, curious by her wording. “Oh. I’m surprisingly… ah, what’s the–” she snapped her fingers, urging the words to come out. “Resilient? Like a cat, sorta. Nine lives and all”. Well, if she was really keeping score it would be more like, five and a half. But she wasn’t counting. 

Pax walked around the other stands, looking to snatch food from the unattended stands, and focusing on him gave Nicole enough time to put her thoughts together. “But I understand. I do, really. That shit doesn’t feel good”. She used to be the one on Tepin’s shoes. Appreciating gestures, but struggling to take the next step. Mental barriers piling up to keep her away from what she really wanted. Connection. Nicole didn’t know when she ended up on the other side of the equation. But it was up to her not to let anyone else get through the world on their own. Would Alcher be proud of her? “Think about it. You know where I live. I know where you live– and…and work, yes” she let out a nervous laugh, taking the bag and sliding the money in return. No reaction to the mention of salt, she noticed. Nicole knew from the beginning she was reaching with that one. She didn’t think she could subtly draw a line of salt on the ground to truly test the other woman. “Oh, thank you”. 

“Oh,” Tepin nodded, her smile fading to a lesser version of its usually wide self. She didn’t have any ill feelings towards jaguars in general, just one jaguar in specific, the one inside her, the one that kept popping out randomly, especially when it shouldn’t. Although not all jaguars were to blame for whatever condition she had, she couldn’t think past the one she hated whenever they crossed her mind. “They’re something, all right.” 

Tepin clenched her jaw at the suggestion. Not so much because of anything deeper, just the nagging pain of being helpless when it came to the jaguar. She knew she was pretty much helpless when it came to most things, but Tepin has made her peace with the rest. With the jaguar, the parasite that ruined her life and endangered her own family, she doubted she ever would. Turning to Nicole, she tried to flash her a much warmer smile, not wanting to make her new friend feel bad. “I would if I could. No shelter would want her. Trust me.” 

“I’m sure you are, Nicole,” Tepin giggled at the sound of her name in her lips. Nicole. She couldn’t remember another Nicole she befriended before. There was something about the name that felt so wonderful to say. Maybe she was just getting enamored of her new friend. “Well, if you put it that way, then how can I say no?”

Tepin watched as Nicole took the catnip and the salt, feeling a strange sense of relief after the exchange. She considered for a second how odd it sometimes was, whenever she felt a little weird when she spilled salt on the floor or on any surface in the cabin, but never the same when using the condiment in her cooking, while it was still packed, unopened. Tepin shook that random thought off, focusing on Nicole instead. “Oh, yeah, you do know where I live and work. That’s a little weird,” she let out another chuckle. “Where do you work again?”

“That’s–” her eyebrows furrowed, concern written all over her face. Worrying, is what she wished to say. But it wouldn’t help any, would it? Were cats that terrible? She had no idea. Nicole supposed some animals were lost causes, and Tepin’s pet was starting to sound like one. To be so awful that not even a shelter would take a chance on Tepin the cat? She was picturing some kind of monster. “I’m sorry, it’s awful” it was all she managed to say, lips pressing into a thin, apologetic smile. She hoped for owner and animal to eventually get along or for them to find a solution to their conflict. Some relationships took time, she supposed. Work. Understanding. Patience. All that stuff, even with pets. 

“Right? Oh… I’m– I’m glad to hear. Didn’t know I was so convincing” Nicole couldn’t say any of her friendships had been initiated by her before. If she really stopped and thought about it, she wasn’t sure how some of them even came to be. They just happened. She had never been the one to reach out in any way. So this one felt like a triumph. A first. Nothing guaranteed future offers would be met with the same answer, but for now, it was impossible to wipe the smile off her face. She kept her head down, waiting for the excitement to pass.

There was still a part of her holding on to suspicion. Keeping Tepin close sounded like a good idea in order to figure out her mystery. Right now, Nicole didn’t know much more than the first time they met. But her gut said she had to keep going. And she promised to stop ignoring her intuition didn’t she? 

“Oh– the National Park” she nodded, picking up the bag with caution. She didn’t want to spill either of the items inside. Tepin looked like she had a million things going through her head, and it was impossible for Nicole not to spot the similarities between them. “Uh– Can’t really offer much but… if you ever felt like taking a walk, dunno– I know places. Being around nature helps clear my mind. Maybe… maybe it could do the same for you” she said, noticing Pax walking back to them. He was ready to go home. Nicole lifted her bag, gently swaying it. “This was… you didn’t have to. But thanks, uh– Tepin” she smiled, examining the woman’s face for a moment. “I’ll see you around?” 

Tepin offered her a warm smile before shaking her head, turning immediately to her task at hand. “Oh, it’s all right. You live with the hand you’re dealt, I guess.” It’s been quite the journey, at least she could admit to that. A lot of it has been tragic, from having to leave home to keep her loved ones safe to meeting and losing more people along the way. For a time, Tepin wasn’t quite sure if she’d ever find a safe space. Turns out, she just had to move somewhere less safe. 

So far, there has been no reason for them, her and the jaguar, to leave again. The beast had the freedom to do its thing out here, in the Outskirts, while Tepin could be far from most people who didn’t deserve to be dragged into her tragedy. Of course there were a few mistakes here and there, but she’s been learning to survive it all. One day, things will be better. They should be. “You are. Should give yourself more credit. You deserve it.” 

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up at the idea of getting to walk around the park with someone who knew the place. At the very least, there would be no chance of getting lost, and if the jaguar ever decided to show up, Tepin could just ask her where to disappear to. Would be pretty awkward, but would she have any choice? Just have to live with the cards we’re dealt. “That sounds like fun! I’d love to take a walk with you some time. Not if I see you first!”

[luvnami]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 - food, vine reference (does anyone even remember these still?), kinda cheesy at the end ig

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 - hanamaki takahiro loves you so, so, so much

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 - 1005

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 & 𝐑𝐁𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!!

hanamaki takahiro isn’t very romantic.

he likes to keep to himself most of the time, holed up in your shared bedroom playing a new rpg or flipping through old copies of jump. not to say that hanamaki doesn’t like spending time with you — he does; loves you more than anything in the world (even more than those hokkaido milk cream puffs that cost 600 yen at that bakery in shinjuku).

but romanticism and love don’t necessarily go hand in hand. flowers are expensive and give him allergies when he bundles them on the train ride back home to you. he hates washing the dishes. to be honest, hanamaki feels a little bad that you always yell at him for leaving yesterday’s pots and pans to be piled up in the sink.

he can’t help it! the dishwashing liquid makes his fingers dry out, and rubber gloves don’t give him a good feel of how clean the dishes actually are.

sometimes hanamaki forgets to leave the toilet seat down after using the bathroom. one too many times, he’s woken up to you yelping during a midnight toilet break. he pretends he doesn’t hear anything, staring sleepily as you crawl back to bed and huff cutely in his ear. 

at least he bothers to change the toilet roll once its about to run out. hanamaki can manage to cook a decent miso soup for dinner on days where you run overtime. he does a superb job of doing the laundry, actually, all the while belting his favourite anime opening songs as he tosses clothes into the dryer.

the door opens and you toss your office shoes by the genkan. hanamaki perks up from where he’s pan frying some teriyaki salmon in the kitchen, the rice cooker steaming away beside him.

“ugh, i’m exhausted!” you groan.

“welcome home!” hanamaki cheerily replies. “dinner will be ready soon. why don’t you take a shower first?”

a bath sounds amazing right now. you leave your work things by the dining table and disappear into the bathroom as hanamaki begins to plate dinner. he has a cute little apron on, bought from threeppy with a cute bear on the front. the tip of his pink tongue sticks out as he measures some furikake out with a teaspoon.

dinner is filling and delicious, nourishing you from the inside out after a hard day of work. you begin to plod over to the living room to watch some television as hanamaki clears the table. it doesn’t take long for him to join you on the sofa, bearing a plate of sweet treats. 

“what are those?” you ask, peering curiously as hanamaki takes a seat next to you.

he’s wearing one of your high school’s oversized class t-shirts. you don’t understand why he doesn't just wear his own clothes, but hanamaki insists it smells like you and you smell like home, so you don’t complain and occasionally watch him strut around the house in a pink crop top.

“they are my crocs,” hanamaki replies.

the both of you burst into giggles and you shove at his shoulder playfully.

“gross.” 

“i bought some cake from the new bakery. wanna share?”

“ooh! i heard all about it from hitoka-san the other day!”

your face lights up and suddenly all fatigue from your day of work melts into nothing. you eagerly grab one of the two forks and take a bite of the delicate sponge cake. 

hanamaki’s eyes soften at the edges as he watches you devour the cakes. he barely gets a few bites in, even initiating in a short star wars-esque battle with your forks as he makes lightsaber noises. you snort with laughter and he wins, stealing a forkful of chocolate roll cake. 

the reality show on your second hand television is soon forgotten. you tell hanamaki all about the day you had at work: how the new intern was absolutely terrifying (seriously, who voice records every conversation they have?!), the yummy snacks tanaka-san from the sports department had bought from her honeymoon to osaka, and the printer that had been jammed for three days already (maybe you should give it a good smack? hanamaki suggests. you tell him that you’ll probably be written down for vandalism).

you relax, the tension in your shoulders ebbing away as you lean your head on hanamaki’s arm. there’s some cake left on the plate — probably worth two mouthfuls. too little to split between the both of you, but enough for one person to feel satisfied with a big enough bite. 

“you can have the rest,” hanamaki murmurs. 

“huh?” 

you’re warm, soft against his arm. his adam’s apple bobs as he stares straight ahead at the television, not daring to look down at your doe-like eyes. he focuses on the advertisement for a new mop instead.

“finish the cake. i’m too full from dinner.”

“ehh? don’t you like shortcake, hiro?” 

“i said i’m full. go ahead, i had some snacks before dinner.”

without looking, hanamaki knows that there’s a pout on your face. 

“you shouldn’t ruin your appetite like that next time.”

you happily stab the last portion of the cake and pop it into your mouth along with the giant strawberry on top, chewing away happily. hanamaki’s heart leaps in his chest. he reaches down, cupping your soft cheek and pulling you up for a kiss.

“mmph- hiro!”

you taste sweet; like whipped cream and strawberries. hanamaki gulps. you’re so pretty and perfect and- 

would you, just for him, take care of his heart and keep it close to yours?

the dishes are still piled up in the sink, a fake succulent sits on the dining table next to the stack of apartment adverts that you’ve been going through the past week, and that week’s sock laundry are pinned up neatly on the balcony.

“babe?” you tilt your head in question at his prolonged gaze.

shit, shit, shit. he loves you so much.

“hey, let’s get married,” he says softly. “i wanna be with you forever.”

[salmonid-ink]

Let’s talk about Salmonid intelligence!

There seems to be a wide misconception that Salmonids aren’t intelligent, or at the very least, aren’t as smart as Octolings or Inklings. This idea couldn’t be farther from the truth! And because I’m the Resident Salmonid Fanatic™ it’s my job to talk about this. 

In hopes to make people consider and think of Salmonids in a better light, and NOT as pets, I’m going to do my best to pull evidence from in-game, as well as interviews, that imply or outright confirm that Salmonids are sapient, much like our beloved Octolings and Inklings. 

To start, I’d like to touch on their interactions with other creatures, namely their trade deal with the Octarians. It’s hard to argue for Salmonids not being intelligent when you consider the confirmed fact that they actively trade with other creatures to benefit the both of them.

They exchange their useful Power Eggs (and perhaps vegetables and fruits) to the Octarians for mechanical blueprints, weapons, and machine parts (and potentially tentacle cuts for food). We can wager this trade deal has been going on for a long time, as the Salmonids are fitted to the gills with machinery, and you can make the argument that the Octomaw was inspired by Maws!

While the Salmonids could easily take these blueprints and make the machines exactly as the Octarians planned them, these fish take it one step beyond and put their own twist on things! With their intellect, they’ve customized traditional weapons to suit them better, and the examples can be seen in just about every boss you encounter. 

Ink Storm + Brella -> Drizzler

Sting Ray -> Stinger

Ink Jet + Tenta Missiles -> Flyfish

Splash Wall -> Steel Eel

Baller/Splashdown   -> Steelhead

Shielded Octotrooper + Roller  -> Scrapper

Octocopter -> Chinook

Flooder -> Griller

Octo Seeker -> Mothership

Additionally, they are INSANELY resourceful, able to use any scrap of metal or machinery to make their contraptions, and make them decently reliable. Not to mention the fact that Scrappers are able to repair their cars! On the fly! All while under fire! That takes dedication AND smarts!!

Not to mention the fact that Smallfry, who could very well be babies (and I will argue that they are, as there is no benefit to stunting the growth of ANY creature), are able to pilot Flyfish. They were raised just right in the best environment, and now they’re super smart!

Also, Salmonids are crazy creative, with how they’ve incorporated their cookware into their weaponry. They take their aesthetic to the next level, man.

Next, lest talk about their homes!

It’s vastly clear that they have their own society. At the very least, we can take a glimpse of it with their houses. The Lost Outpost (known as the Colony at Sea in Japan) is a great example of this!

While these houses look like they were cobbled together with recycled parts, which falls in line with Salmonid resourcefulness, they are clearly stable living spaces that were built by he Salmonids themselves with ocean living and fishing in mind. 

Additionally, towards the back of the stage, we can see another house with a city on the horizon. While this is purely speculation, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to believe that this city is Salmonid-owned. The areas you go to are claimed to be restricted ocean zones, and given that you’re so far out that you need a house-sized radio dish just to communicate, it’s hard to believe that the city would be owned by anyone else. 

I think these city-based homes would be owned by Salmonids that work with machinery, such as repairmen and mechanics. This could also include artisans! Farmers would obviously live in more rural areas, where they can plant and grow their crops. 

We can also glean a similar idea from the Spawning Grounds (called the Salmonid Dam in many other languages): 

I will argue until the day I die that the dam found in the Spawning Grounds, as well as the adjacent city, belongs to the Salmonids, as evidence by its proximity to the stage, the green water pouring from the dam, and the very clear Salmonid mark on it.

Whether this city was built by them, or it’s one they took ahold of and built upon during one of their past migrations is yet to be determined, seeing my speculations are even true. Either way, it’s clear that the Salmonids are capable of building structures and homes with ease!

If we talk about their homes, even if this is much more on the speculative end, we’ve also GOT to talk about the factory we can see at Marooner’s Bay:

Again, given the proximity to Salmonid territory, as well as the various Salmonid-themed items around the stage, we can speculate that these factories are Salmonid owned, and perhaps where they work on many of their machines and devices.

Things such as Scrapper Cars, Steel Eels, Flyfish jets, Grillers, and Motherships could be constructed here, or this place could be used for processing water or chemicals! It’s a rather vague factory, so again, this is all theoretical. I haven’t a clue what they do here. 

Next let’s talk about their art. The existence of art alone should be enough of an indicator that they have minds to think and feel with! Especially when their designs are as intricate as these:

The most of these can be seen around the Lost Outpost and Spawning Grounds, but every single stage has a few of these markings floating around. I don’t currently have many in-stage caps on hand, but if you take the time to look around, you’ll find a few on the ground and walls!

While a lot of these are very clearly graffiti markings, the intricate designs may have some meaning. While we haven’t a clue what exactly they mean, or what they represent, I think they’re extremely fascinating, and give us a peek into what culture Salmonids have. 

They’re likely made with stencils, but all the same, they were designed carefully, and must hold SOME significance.

I have a theory that these designs are primarily to mark specific territories. Perhaps certain marks mean different schools and families! Or some of them could be warnings, such as to indicate Grizz activity (such as with the bear icon, which appears in a few stages). 

I believe in part, these are a form of expression, ESPECIALLY if they indicate schools. There are so many unique fish-shaped designs, it’d be cool to see how these correlate to individual groups!

They could also be a visual indicator for Inklings and Cephalopods that, yes, this is Salmonid territory, so you’d best stay away! Because while it’d be easy for a Salmonid to tell what area belongs to who by smell alone, Inklings certainly don’t have that luxury!

At any rate, I’d love to see what personal art looks like for Salmonids. What kind of crafts do they make? What sort of things do they love to paint? We don’t really know, and we can only speculate...

One thing we know for certain is that Salmonids appreciate music. It even seems as though they’re inspired by it, given the descriptions that the Salmon Run songs have.

I feel like this is worth stating, even if their existence is fairly common knowledge: ω-3. A band. That plays complex instruments. And does all their own mixing. 

Pretty freakin’ smart, I must say!

Additionally, each of the members have VASTLY different styles. The Cellist is stern and stubborn, and won’t accept anything but the best, be it in passion or in radical works. The timpanist is soulful, passionate, and is straight to the point. The DJ is reckless and disrespectful, yet puts forth his best effort.

All three of them are so unalike to one another in style and personality. They may not even get along that well, but at the end of the day, they value working together SO MUCH that they make amazing, unique, and great-sounding songs that stir and inspire their people. 

It’d be amazing to see what other types of music that Salmonids like, because this can’t be the only kind. However the style of  ω-3 certainly goes hand-in-hand with the chaotic, resourceful, and determined nature of the Salmonids. 

We should also touch up on the fact that Salmonids are stated to have tradition. Aside from their 70-year migration, they’re also stated to pass cookware from generation to generation in Sunken Scroll #19.

"Salmonids are known to keep their weapons in tip-top shape. The frying pans they wield have often been passed down from generation to generation. You can see the unwavering pride of these fierce warriors in their (somewhat crazed) eyes."

I like to think that they also pass things like recipes and other tools down to their offspring and kin. Family and schools on the whole appear to be very important to them, which ties directly into their drive to work together as a unit, rather than separately as a makeshift team.

For some conventional evidence, look at this one bit from the Merry Fishmas piece, posted by official Splatoon sources: 

I LOVE this image, and there are so many tiny details that you can make out in this. Such as these two:

THEY ARE PLAYING CARDS, and this ain’t no dogs playing poker bit, either! It looks like the other one is losing really bad... Or going into a food coma. One way or another, the other Salmonid is trying to check up on them, haha. Or maybe they’re trying to sneak a peek at the other’s cards? Who knows! That sly grin tells a story.

Also, there’s this Goldie, who is fishing:

These are all pretty human-like characteristics, which makes me think, all the more, that they’re on par with Inklings intelligence wise. I REALLY want to see more interactions like this someday, it fills my heart with delight and joy.

Phew.. Well, thank you so much for sticking with me through this whole thing. I hope this helps people get more perspective on Salmonids, and what little we know about their community and culture. 

[krabstick32]

MWAHAHA I'VE BEEN WAITING (✷‿✷) Can I ask for a Giyuu who decided he wants to try befriending the newest Pillar since she's pretty quiet (and also pretty cute UwU haha jk) but whenever he tries to come forward and talk to her she either doesn't respond or runs off looking embarrassed. Finally he asks one of the Pillars for help and they sort of break it to him that Reader just lost her voice in a battle before being a Pillar and is very shy because she doesn't know how to talk to people. Thanks!

Demon Got Your Tongue?

Requested by: @trueblueoceaneyes​​

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader  Synopsis: Giyuu wants to make a friend. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up as more.

Tags/warnings: I don’t think there are any, but reader isn’t able to talk (i’m very sorry if I wasn’t able to portray that properly!) and there are also references to the Giyuu Gaiden—but its not necessary to read that to understand this

A/N: WAAAA Thank you so much for being my first request girl!! As expected, your ideas are just *chef’s kiss* magnifique. ily, hope i did your request justice and that you like it uwu. 

I had so much fun writing Giyuu just being an awkward dork, and the bonus - especially the bonus. (also, pls excuse any mistakes, i feel like i passed over some) Anyway, please enjoy!!

edit: so i reread it, and there were some mistakes. apologies to the people who have read this prior the edit—the edits are very minor, but again, i am sorry _:(´□`」 ∠)_

Giyuu was a man who valued his silence and solitude.

From the start, he made it pretty obvious to the other Pillars that he wanted to be left alone and wanted nothing to do with them. And from that sort of attitude, they were able to conclude that while he was an amazing swordsman, he preferred to work alone, go on missions alone, and just generally be alone.

They knew next to nothing about the man, apart from his breath style and stoic personality—and he preferred it that way. Giyuu knew that getting close to others was a troublesome affair, and it always ended up in someone getting hurt. 

When he saw you though, it’s like he knew that the cold facade he put up was a lie.

Normally, Pillar meetings only happened at the end of every other month for regular reports and for the others to catch up and to exchange information. This time, however, Oyakata-sama called for them to introduce a new member that would stand among them as a new Pillar. 

Oyakata-sama introduced you as he did the others, stating your name, and your position as the Thunder Pillar, as well as telling you the names and positions of the current Pillars.

You seemed to be more on the quiet side, with only a soft, somehow strained smile painting your face set with admittedly attractive features. A young woman who was most likely around the age of nineteen or twenty, with a slightly hunched frame, and a death grip on the hem of your (f/c) haori sleeve. You seemed shy and nervous, but all of them knew that you must have possessed extraordinary skills to be able to reach the rank of a Pillar.

Giyuu stamps down an odd itch to stand and walk over to you, staying still as Oyakata-sama calls out his name for you.

Your introduction ended with a kind smile, and a question from the master. He asked if you were willing for a demonstration of your skills, to which you agree with a shy smile and a soft nod.

Unsheathing your sword, you took a deep breath—a loud whistling sound that seemingly shook the air and shocked the Pillars. For the shy woman they saw mere minutes ago to make such a loud sound with just breathing was a curious sight… but then suddenly, you were gone, only faint images of you visible all around the Ubuyashiki’s garden as you performed all six forms of the Thunder Breath.

You were quick and agile, possibly the fastest among all ten of you.

Everyone could hear the loud roll of thunder, but a quick look at the sky showed them that there was no storm—only you performing in the clearing, a dance so graceful and deadly. Despite having a hard time catching your movements, everyone was absolutely mesmerized by the sheer power you displayed, accompanied by the palpable static in the air. 

When you finished, everyone was staring with large eyes—even Giyuu was a little slack-jawed at your performance. You blushed with the weight of everyone’s stare while the master thanked you and urged you to take a seat.

You didn’t want to force your presence or insert yourself between anyone, so you resolved to take your place at the edge of the line-up. It was a tough choice though because one side had two men who seemed to scowl at the ground or at you, while the other had a man who looked impassive with blue eyes and black hair that contrasted well with his pale skin.

He seemed like he wanted to be left alone, but you’d rather sit beside him than feel the sharp glares of who you recalled were the Wind and Serpent Pillars on the other side.

Even if you made up your mind, you still flush as you kneel beside the attractive man; Giyuu wonders why his heartbeat seems to pick up.

The meeting didn’t take long, as the sole purpose of it was to introduce you and let everyone get acquainted, so Oyakata-sama ended it without any excess fanfare, taking his leave to allow the ten of you to mingle.

All of the Pillars rushed over to you, and Giyuu noticed how you jumped at their enthusiasm. There wasn’t any ill-intent—they were only eager to meet you, but you didn’t seem to be used to having eight people talk to you all at once, with how your mouth seemed to open and close like a fish.

The Water Pillar really wanted to talk to you for some odd reason, but seeing as how you already seemed extremely overwhelmed, he decided to do that later—maybe once the others let you breathe—and opted to stand by the sidelines. Not a minute later, however, three crows came flying by, one perching on his shoulders, one on Muichirou, and the other on Sanemi.

“Head to the forest by the town up… northeast!” His crow, Kanzaburo, squawked. “By the town northeast, children disappear! children disappear!”

He wasn’t able to hear what the other crows assigned to the Wind and Mist Pillars, but he was a little disappointed. He really wanted to talk to you, for a reason he could puzzle out later, but that would have to happen on another day.

He still had a job to do.

The next time Giyuu sees you is a couple of weeks later at a decently sized town.

He received notice from his crow that there was a demon trying to make this village its territory, which left him where he was now. The sun was out shining brightly, so he was using the time to gather intel by listening around for any mention of strange disappearances or odd sightings. He didn’t want a repeat of what happened to him at that town with the Matagi Hunters and Shinobu, so he stayed within hearing range, acting as inconspicuous as he could with a sword strapped to his side.

From the corner of his eye however, he catches something familiar—a trail of (h/c) hair and (f/c) haori.

Was that…?

Moving at a reasonable pace, he weaves around wandering merchants and people, slightly hoping for any other sign of you. He tried to be as polite as he could in moving around, but it seems that he already lost you once he reached the end of the crowd.

He heaves a heavy sigh after taking a seat on a bench far from the bustle, and the information, but it was about time for a break anyway.

What was it about you?

Why was he so curious to talk to you? Why was he so drawn as to chase after what he thought was you? There was something about you that made him want to get closer, to get to know you, even though he stopped himself a long time ago from forming connections to others.

Was it the strength you displayed? Was it your quiet disposition? Your pretty face?

He hoped he wasn’t as superficial to be drawn by that last one. You were pretty yes and he was willing to admit that, but he hoped that he wasn’t as shallow to want to talk to you for your looks. And yes, you were strong, but so were the other Pillars, and a lot of other demon slayers, but he didn’t feel the same pull to them as he did to you.

Giyuu throws his hands in the air. Making friends and thinking about you was making his head spin. “Focus, Giyuu.” He scolds himself and opens the wrapper of his salmon-filled rice ball.

He was about to take a bite when again, from the corner of his eye, he saw a trail of (h/c) hair and (f/c) haori. Giyuu immediately whirls his head to make sure if it was actually you and calls out before he could think about his actions. “(L/N)-san!”

When you turn around at the sound of your name, you gripped your sword in surprise only to face a pair of familiar blue eyes, and a haori split in two.

Giyuu turns back to his opened rice ball, quickly wrapping it back closed, and stands abruptly, jogging to where you were standing.

“I’m not sure if you remember but, I wasn’t able to personally introduce myself last time. My name is Giyuu Tomioka, and I’m the Water Pillar.” Giyuu wanted to give himself a pat on the back. He sounded literate.

Of course, you remember him. You kind of wanted to say that it was stupid of him to think that he was forgettable. You remember feeling a little disappointed when he left before you had a chance to talk to him. But you immediately squashed down that feeling because you could talk to him now—!

Giyuu pauses, waiting for you to reply as you seem to look for something at your side, but your eyes widen and seem to look at everywhere but him. “Is there anything wrong?” He asks and worriedly watches as your face turns into a deep red.

You raise both your hands in front of you and shake your head, even if there really was something wrong. You start to amble backward—and Giyuu couldn’t see it, but you could feel your palms and your forehead sweating bullets—an apology at the tip of your tongue, that would never be heard.

“(L/N)-san?” At the sound of his voice, you bowed deeply, almost at a ninety-degree angle from the ground. Giyuu was trying to process the reason you were bowing so deeply that he didn’t even realize that you’ve already turned around and scurried out of there.

The Water Pillar was confused out of his wits. He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes blinking and squeezing shut, before ultimately collapsing back at the bench he was sitting on. “Was it something I said?”

Maybe his habit of pushing others away was catching up to him.

The sun sets not long after Giyuu finishes his salmon rice ball.  He pushes his encounter with you at the back of his mind as he places the folded wrapper into his uniform pocket and moves towards the portion of the forest he heard townspeople gossip about. On the way, he could see that people were already closing up shops and walking hurriedly to their homes.

At the edge of the forest, Giyuu feels the tangible difference in the air and tenses up once he senses the demon. The presence felt so thick, that the raven-haired man was itching to cut the air with his Nichirin blade.

This isn’t good.

He fastens his pace and he grips his sword tighter, his heart already pounding a mile a minute despite keeping his stoic expression. It almost felt like the demon was already there at his side, surrounding him with its presence.

He stops at a clearing, a round opening with barely any moonlight seeping through, and stops when he spots his target. He unsheathes his blade and rushes in with his sword held high.

Not even a meter from the demon, he hears a growl, and a hand darts out managing to snag the exposed sleeve of the skin of his face. Immediately, he twists his body into a flip, before landing deftly on his feet, safe from a distance away. He wanted to scold himself for being caught off guard by something he should have easily sensed.

So there were tw- no, now there were three.

As he was moving into a defensive stance, he didn’t notice the two demons regroup and he sure as hell didn’t notice a third one join in.

Giyuu parries an incoming attack and dodges a cheap hit they tried to land. He sees an opening when the three try to surround him, breathing quick and deep as he jumps up and slashes one body into multiple parts.

Water Breathing Fourth Form: Striking Tide!

The head drops with a loud thump, and when two more appear in place as the severed body parts start to disintegrate, Giyuu just wants to groan out loud.

There were now four when there were previously three, and at this point, Giyuu was certain that there were more hiding in between the trees and the blind spots of his vision. He couldn’t stay on the defensive forever, and going on the offensive when there were others left too many openings for his liking.

One of the demons was about to try and swipe a hit while Giyuu was distracted with parrying. The arm was an inch away, but with the roll of thunder and a flash of lightning, the arm previously reaching for him sat torn on the ground.

You rushed into the clearing in a blazing glory once you sensed a demon on your patrol around town. In the heat of the battle, you leave your embarrassment and stand defensively against his back, and in an impulsive thought, Giyuu connects the fact that you might have been sent to the same mission he was on.

Ah, maybe that was why he saw you in town.

You were sent on the same mission; perhaps to cooperate—he did go on missions with the others Pillars at times despite wanting to work alone—but if that was the case, it didn’t explain why you ran from him earlier. Maybe you only realized it now too?

Regardless, he was incredibly grateful you arrived when you did because about fifteen more dropped into the clearing.

One ordinary demon was usually no trouble for demon slayers, but having multiple of them like this was a little trickier. They fought dirty, desperate for survival, and it was so, so easy to make mistakes in the heat of the battle—even for the higher ranked and, in extension, more experienced members of the corps like them.

Having a large group of demons like this was strange though because demons preferred to move alone or at least in smaller groups of two or three, at most six. This is probably the most Giyuu has seen in one place.

The two of you were a blur as an unspoken agreement passed. He’d deal with half, and you would deal with the other, and with that all sorted out, the fight was over in a little less than twenty or so minutes, both your swords being sheathed into its respective scabbards.

Giyuu gulps in a breath of air, his hands over his knees as he wheezes out a few words. “Thank you for the help (L/N)-san, one of them almost got me.”

Your heart beats a little faster—not from the battle but from the soft, relieved smile on Giyuu’s face. Why didn’t he smile more often? He looked absolutely beautiful.

“Oh, are you alright?” His eyes widen at the bleeding cut on your right arm. You almost wanted to laugh, because he looked much worse than you did with bleeding scratches that marred his handsome face. 

A chuckle escapes your lips and you dust off your right hand on the fabric of your uniform, reaching down the pocket of your skirt to pull out a pristine handkerchief. Gently, you press it to his bloody wound, and the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric felt pleasant against your cool fingers.

You hold it there, discreetly checking over him for any more wounds and time seems to pass by the both of you.

Giyuu swallows nervously. His stomach was flipping around, but he was sure he had no wounds around that area. “(L/N)-san?” 

You seem to snap out of it when he calls your name, your hand flinching away from his face and the handkerchief sticking from the blood. He could see the red rush to your neck and up your cheeks, to the tips of your ears. You looked kind of cute.

He stares at you as you move forward in your odd ninety-degree angle bow, and was about to ask why you were bowing, but only realized too late what you were doing once you ran off. Again.

His old crow perches wearily on his shoulder, seeming to huff before delivering a message Giyuu had already anticipated.

“Pillar Meeting! Pillar Meeting! Arrive three hours before noon!” He was aware that the Pillar Meeting was today. The only reason he wasn’t rushing to get there was that he didn't want to arrive only for it to be canceled, or moved at another time. That would be a waste of time.

“Thank you, Kanzaburo.”

Pillar Meetings usually happened in the daytime, mostly in the morning. Sometimes it’s at high noon, or when dawn breaks, maybe even before the sun sets, but rarely at night. That was when they were on duty after all, and those only happen in the direst of situations.

He arrived just on time. The others were already gathered loosely in the line-up formation they unspokenly kept, making small talk over matters Giyuu couldn’t hear. You weren’t there though. You were most likely late, but that didn’t stop him from letting his shoulders sag in slight disappointment. He was hoping to talk to you before the meeting started.

It was just his luck that you arrived a minute before Oyakata-sama did when he was already making a move to walk over to you.

He swallows down a sigh as he kneels at his spot at the edge of the line-up between Uzui and you. Giyuu liked being at the edge or at the farthest side of any kind of gathering because it always provided him with an opening to leave when he wanted, but with your newfound presence on his left side, he finds himself not minding as much as he thought he would.

The meeting carried on as usual, almost as if you were always there in the first place. One by one, the other Pillars gave their oral reports of the past month, and when Giyuu was done relaying his information, including that mission with you, he was a little surprised when you stood from your position beside him and walked towards the master’s seat when he gave a nod with his comforting smile in your direction.

You reach in your pocket and pull out a pristine roll of paper with the barest mark of black ink bleeding through. It was tied with a red braided cord that the master pulls when you hand it to him with a respectful bow. The master asks one of his children at his side to take it and read the contents.

Giyuu was a little confused. The others didn’t seem to find it odd, he notes when he takes a quick glance at his comrades. But he wonders why you didn’t speak choosing to hand in a written report. He decides to push it out of his mind. It wasn’t his business anyway.

Everything continues on, the meeting ending not long after that. All of the Pillars stood and bowed as Oyakata-sama left with the help of his children, as per usual, but Giyuu has never felt so relieved when the meeting finished as he did now.

The others were already talking among themselves while four of them left for missions assigned directly during the meeting, leaving him, you, Gyomei, Kyojurou, Mitsuri, and Muichirou. Normally, this is where Giyuu would take his leave, with or without the excuse of a mission, but to everyone’s surprise, he stays and walks up to you.

He stops at a respectable distance from you and nods politely at your right arm. “I hope your arm is okay.”

The Pillars pretended that they weren’t listening in (though Muichirou didn’t have to because he was already busy staring at the clouds) and they were doing their best to carry on a half-hearted conversation to keep up with the guise that they were minding their own business.

Your slightly spooked expression morphs into a small smile—Giyuu couldn’t help but think that you had a lovely smile—and your mouth opens, almost on its way to producing a word towards him. He didn’t notice it, but he was leaning a little closer in anticipation of the sound of your voice.

It immediately shuts back down, however, and your cheeks flush a charming shade of red as embarrassment flits across your face. Instead of speaking, you give him a respectful nod, pointing to his bandaged face, and giving a thumbs up. Then you turn back to the others with a small wave of your hand before you’re suddenly gone, your body bowing yet again as you move incredibly fast to the garden gates.

Everyone watches the gates you pushed open swing back close with a creak that sounded all over the garden.

Giyuu wanted to slap himself.

His mind flashes back to the conversation he had with Kyojuro and Mitsuri as he was walking at a bustling street in a village on the way back to his estate. He felt incredibly stupid that he was only able to connect the dots when someone spelled it out for him.

Giyuu, Kyojurou, and Mitsuri sit around the training room of the Love Pillar’s estate.

Giyuu wandered into Mitsuri’s home after he decided to ask for advice, help, anything at all to understand what he was doing wrong. You seemed close to the pink-haired woman—you two were always beside each other before and after meetings after all—and he thought that Mitsuri was nice and cheerful, so maybe asking her for advice about you wouldn’t be so bad.

When Mitsuri opens her door, she’s shocked to see the Water Pillar standing there. “Wah! Tomioka-san!”

“Uh, hello, Kanroji-san,” Giyuu greets awkwardly. “I have a question to ask you.”

“Oh, of course, no problem, come on in! I was about to make some food for us!”

He didn’t account for the fact that Mitsuri might have company over so when he sees Kyojuro after Mitsuri leads him to her training room, it seems that he would have to settle for talking to both the Love Pillar and the Flame Pillar. Oh well, having two opinions was better than one. He hoped that saying was true.

“Oh, Tomioka! Did you come to train? Kanroji and I are just taking a break if you want to spar.” Kyojuro asks when the Water Pillar takes a seat.

“No, I… just wanted to ask for some advice.”

Mitsuri must have heard all the way from her kitchen because not a moment too soon, she barges through the door with three plates in hand piled high with food. “Advice?! Is that related to your question?” Giyuu nods and takes the plate she offered. “Well, ask away—I love these kinds of things!”

He starts by recalling the day of the mission he had with you. How he called out for you to formally introduce himself in the afternoon, how he asked if you were alright in the evening after the battle with nearly twenty demons, and how you ran away from him both times with your tail between your legs. He ends with his painfully one-sided conversation with you after the meeting a few days ago, and the ever-present question of why you keep running away. (But Mitsuri and Kyojuro already knew about that part—Tomioka speaking to anybody on his own volition was a rare sight. Of course, they listened in.)

This was the most Mitsuri and Kyojuro ever heard Giyuu speak, though and they reckon it was the most he’s ever spoken at all. But they brush that off and look at each other, deciding if they should tell him what they thought everyone already knew.

“Well, you see…” Mitsuri plays with the hem of her uniform. “Tomioka-san… (Y/N) lost her voice in a battle with a lower moon. She won and became a Pillar because of it, but…”

By the slight widening of his eyes, they were able to confirm that no, he didn’t know.

Kyojuro draws his brows together, swallowing a bite of food from the plate Mitsuri handed him. “Though, it’s odd that she keeps running away. (Y/N)’s shy—that much is obvious, but she was able to talk to us. She uses this large notepad, almost the size of my arm, but she rarely uses it because she says it’s a bother to carry around.” 

“Maybe she was embarrassed?” Mitsuri hmm’s for a moment at her mentor. She taps a finger on her chin, her head tilted slightly to the side as she suggests. But then she gasps, leaning closer to inspect Tomioka in a new light. “Or maybe she likes you! Wahh~”

“Oh gods,” he says, ignoring the last bit before dropping his head on his hands. “(L/N)-san can’t speak?”

You couldn’t talk.

He felt like the biggest asshole in the entire world and felt absolutely terrible for the many times he expected you to reply to him—that was rude and thoughtless of him. 

Ignorance would never be an excuse for his insensitivity, but It was just like him to mess up this badly the first time he genuinely wanted to talk to his peers.

Though, he could only imagine what you felt.

Banging his head on the wall sounded like a mighty fine idea, but doing that in the middle of a busy street might make people think that he was crazy. Not that he really cared for what people thought of him but that might get him tied up for prison. He still wasn’t over that mission.

On his way back to his estate, he sees a man his age gesturing in strange motions with his hands towards a kid, around eight or ten years old. He watches as the man and the kid form figures with their palms and fingers, letting them move towards their mouth, their chest, parts around their faces, in turns. The Water Pillar has seen it before, but only now, with the revelation he just had an hour prior, did he ever question it. What were they doing with his hands? It’s almost as if they were…

“You need something, Boy?” A lady behind him speaks.

The raven-haired man jolts in surprise, and the voice laughs. He didn’t notice that he was staring, nor blocking the entrance of a shop.

Giyuu turns to find a kind-looking elderly woman, leaning over the stall of her shop watching the kid interact with the man who he presumed was a relative.

“Ah no, I’m sorry.”

She waves off his apology and grins when she notices that she got the attention of the fine-looking young man standing in front of her shop. “It’s amazing, huh? Talking with the use of hands. Pretty useful if I do say so myself.”

Getting out of the way and moving to a polite distance, closer to the shop, Giyuu asks politely, “What are they doing exactly?”

“You must be new around here huh? Explains why I’ve never seen that face.” No, he just didn’t leave in the day that often, even if the village was right down the hill of his estate. “They’re talking, I reckon—‘bout what can’t say for sure. I’ve only caught a few gestures when that little boy drops by.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a shame though, his brother—the young man—can’t speak, but on the bright side, they can communicate at least. Those fancy gestures they’re doing are pretty fascinating, you’d have to admit.” Both of them turn back to the kid and his brother.

“It is.” Giyuu agrees because it is amazing. Talking without the use of voices, only with the use of movements. There was something elegant about the way their hands would move around, how the expressions on their faces seemed to also be included in how they communicated. He found it absolutely mind-blowing that the way they gesture around carries an entire language.

When he turns back to the old woman, only then did he notice her wares and the items on display around the shelves. Maybe he could make it up to you.

“Is this for sale?” He asks, and the woman laughs loudly.

“Of course it is Boy, this is a shop after all.” She ushers him further into her store. She knows that look on his face, and old women like her were always eager to help a young man in love treat his lady right.

You were training in the courtyard of your estate when a loud knock stops you from swinging.

The training sword in your grasp drops unceremoniously as you grab the small towel on your engawa, wiping at your face. You would normally shout that you were going to get the door but there was the issue of your voice, and the Thunder estate was too big…

You try to drown out your negativity by rushing to the door before your visitor left. The door swishes open, and to your complete and utter embarrassment, the Water Pillar was there.

Oh Gods, was he here to call you a total dunce for running away from him?

“Ah, (L/N)-san, sorry to barge in on you but I wanted to a —um… t-talk? Just for a bit. It’ll be quick, I promise.” He sounds nervous—even if his face was still a little blank—but you give him a nod, and timidly move aside to let him in. He says a quick thank you before setting his zori to the side of your entrance.

As you lead him to your engawa, you could feel your nerves start to fray and short-circuit. You gesture for him to take a seat while you point to your home, wordlessly telling him to wait.

When you come back from the kitchen with a tray of tea, you hand him a cup before taking a seat a few feet away from him. You faintly hear his sharp inhale before he turns to you and speaks. “Um, I’m really sorry if I offended you on our past encounters. I didn’t know that you couldn’t… couldn’t speak.”

You were relieved that he didn’t seem to be here to call you out, but you were quick to move and shake your head and your hands from side to side. No, it’s not your fault! you would have said, but you hoped that your actions were enough to speak for you.

“No, it is, I’m really sorry. It was rude and inconsiderate of me, and I hope you could forgive me.” He bows a little, and you were starting to get a little flustered. “I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll take these as a token of my apology.”

You watch as he fumbles with his pocket, and brings out a nicely wrapped paper bag. Gingerly, you take it when he offers it to you, and wordlessly ask if you could open it.

He nods and you peek into the contents. Inside was a stack of small paper bound together by string and designed with fabric the same pattern as your haori, and a small metal pen set with simple but delicate carvings.

“It’s a small notebook and a fountain pen,” Giyuu explains, rubbing the nape of his neck with his hand. He could feel the skin burning along with his ears. “It’s small enough to put in the pocket of our uniform, so you could bring it around. I thought that you could use it to talk with others, but in hindsight, maybe you already have one of those. You don’t have to use it of course, but it would be nice if you did, but you don’t have to feel obligated to or—!”

A small giggle escapes your lips, and you flip open the pretty notebook he gave you and uncapped the pen, writing down words in your neat script. You show what you’ve written to him, a pink blush coloring your cheeks.

[Thank you, I love it! This is so much easier to bring than a large notepad and a bulky bottle of ink. I’ll be sure to bring it with me always!]

The Water Pillar lets out a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding and his face unconsciously morphs into a small smile, warming his cold facade by a mile. “I’m glad. I could bring you there if you run out of pages. If you’d like.”

The blush deepens as you turn back to the notebook.

[I would like that.]

BONUS:

The Pillars were no longer surprised when you and Tomioka entered the Ubuyashiki’s garden together. It’s been like that for the past couple of meetings, and finally, they were able to get used to the cold, stoic, normally silent Giyuu Tomioka talking to the warm, shy, and more social (Y/N) (L/N). Everyone found it ironic though that the Thunder Pillar who could no longer speak was more talkative than the Water Pillar who could.

These past few meetings have also been different than the first two you participated in. You were more open and seemed to be smiling more. You even showed them the thoughtful gifts Giyuu gave you—though that was more of an accident than anything.

“Oh, (F/N)-chan!” Mitsuri squeals when you habitually pull out the notebook and the pen from your pocket to answer a question Uzui asked you. You were used to using the notebook to talk with others now. “That’s a really pretty notebook! Where did you buy it?”

The answer you were in the middle of writing sits unfinished as you move to answer Mitsuri’s question first.

[Ah, I didn’t get it, Giyuu gave it to me.]

Everyone was paying attention to your little notebook — it was actually really nice of them to be paying such close attention to your words when you couldn’t speak — and their eyes seemed to bug out of their sockets when they read the name ‘Giyuu’.

The Pillars’ heads immediately dart over to the man in question, and Giyuu immediately turns his face to the side, pretending like he wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t fooling anyone, with how red his ears appear to be.

Mitsuri inwardly screeches at the Water Pillar’s expression (but Obanai seems to have noticed anyway). She couldn’t keep it in though when she and the others turned back to you, your cheeks painted a charming shade of red.

When you arrived early or had no mission after a meeting, you would even show them a few signs from the new language you’ve been learning. Japanese Sign Language, as you and Giyuu would call it. Sometimes, he would join in if there was one you forgot.

“That’s interesting,” Muichiro says, actually looking at you instead of the clouds.

”I never knew you could talk with your hands!” Kyoujuro looks down at his hands, as he repeats one of the signals you just taught them. “It’s spectacular!”

“Yes, it is.” Shinobu agrees, an idea forming in her head—maybe she could suggest sign language to some of her patients who lost the ability to speak. “You should teach us any more you learn (F/N)-chan. It would be nice if we could talk that way, and I could teach some of my patients too!”

You would pull out your notebook though when you didn’t know how to sign what you had to say.

[It’s all thanks to Giyuu! When we’re both free, we go down together to the village close to his estate and learn from one of the people there. Oh, that’s also the village where he got this notebook for me!]

That was news to them. First, the gift, and now the two of you were together even in your spare time? Though, they had to admit that it was incredibly sweet of him to accompany and learn along with you, even if he didn’t have to. And they also found it cute when he would unconsciously turn to you, touching you gently, and moving your hands to the proper position. But Obanai and Sanemi would never admit that. They would rather fight an upper moon.

Occasionally after meetings, they would spot the two of you standing off to the side. Both of your hands would be moving around, a little too fast for them at times to really analyze what you two were talking about, but there were moments—and Mitsuri would swear on her life with this—where those hands didn’t move.

They would only hold onto each other, calloused thumbs brushing past each other’s knuckles. It was like the two of you were absorbed in your own world.

There was even this one time when she thought she saw Giyuu kiss your forehead. (Later on, you two would explain that you thought no one was looking. You were hiding behind your notebook in embarrassment, while Giyuu’s face was flushed— as red as an apple).

Nobody knew this (well maybe you did — you had a knack for being able to understand Giyuu, with or without the help of signing or speaking), but Giyuu craved for interactions, even if he was successful in making others believe he didn’t. He was glad you saw through him though, and you were glad he let you into his world.

But no, what got their attention wasn't the two of you walking in together, it was your hands—your hands that used to be a few feet apart in constant movement were now all joined and tangled fingers. And what’s more, was that Tomioka was smiling. It was probably at something you said, nothing new, but a closer look told them that he was smiling, because you were holding his hand.

The meeting started later than usual. Not even Oyakata-sama’s presence was enough to stop the questions his cute little swordsmen have been dying to ask the two of you for months.

It was further pushed when Mitsuri screamed looking away from the huddle she and the other pillars were in, pointing to you who just pulled away from kissing Giyuu’s cheek (you two thought you were being discreet). “See? I’m right, now pay up people! And stop calling me crazy!“ 

She was 5,000 yen richer by the time the meeting started, and she fully intended to spend it on sakura mochi.

A/N:  Even if it was in the tags and the ask, I tried to reveal that bit of info as giyuu discovered it, so I hope some of you were still surprised (even just a little!!) when it was revealed that Reader couldn’t talk. Again, I hope you enjoyed, and thank you to @trueblueoceaneyes for the request uwu (requests are still open!!)

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 5: Six Shooter

Big Salmon Falls, Idaho October 1892 Sitting there practicing her reading, Tilly heard them before she saw them, as usual, and the banter between Arthur and Hosea was a comfortable sounding thing.  “Six hours and that’s all the fish you got for it?  Weren’t this place called ‘Big Salmon Falls’?” She glanced up to see Hosea carrying a string of a few decent sized trout, but certainly nothing like gigantic salmon.  She would have liked to see one, she thought.  Two months now since they’d found her running from Anthony Foreman near Abilene, and every week with these people seemed like it brought something dizzying and new.  “Alas, like many things,” Hosea informed Arthur, sitting down next to Tilly with a wink, once again obviously hoping for a smile, “seems the naming here is more wishful thinking than reality.”  

Arthur just laughed.  “You ought to talk, Hosea.  Selling wishful thinking is your art.”

“And fishing clearly ain’t yours,” Hosea returned, “even after all these years.”  He turned to Tilly.  “Took this one on when he was your age, just about, and fifteen years later he still can’t catch a fish to save his life.”  

She shook her head, trying to not smile, but Mr. Hosea made it damn hard not to with all the nonsense he spouted all the time.  “I say you can buy a fish and spend the day doing far better stuff,” Arthur said with a yawn.  “Besides, we all know you ain’t keeping me around for my lousy fishing.  Sure ain’t my looks or my brains neither.  I’m good with fists and a gun and that’s that.”  

“We all have our uses.”  Hosea chuckled.  He didn’t lean in close, which Tilly appreciated, or try to put a hand on her shoulder or anything, but his voice was kind as he said,  “You’re doing real well with those letters, sweetheart.  Keep it up.”

They’d promised to teach her to read.  To show her the world, and how to think about it rather than be yanked around by it.  So maybe not all gangs were like the Foremans.  Maybe.  She could hope, anyhow.

Once Hosea had left to clean his trout, she looked over the table at Arthur.  He had to be twice her age, then, and it was hard to imagine him as some half-grown boy they’d picked up as just another stray.  But fifteen years.  They must be doing something right that he’d stuck around so long.  Even John had been with them for over five years now, to hear tell.

Something he’d said came back to her, the quip of I’m good with fists and a gun and that’s that.  She’d proved good with a knife when it counted.  But she never wanted it to get anywhere near that again.  Her eyes strayed to the gunbelt Arthur wore, and the six-shooter revolver in it.  Seen how casually he wore it, like a man who knew exactly what he was doing, and how he cared for and cleaned that gun.  She knew what it looked like seeing someone care for a tool they intended to use on the regular.

“I want to learn to shoot.”  The words were out before she could think better of them, almost as if someone else had said them, but she realized it was her.  If she could read, if she could shoot, if she could do other things, she would never be that scared twelve-year-old thrown over Malcolm Foreman’s horse again.  If they could turn Arthur and John into more than terrified street brats, they could help her.

Arthur looked at her, eyebrows raised.  She clenched her jaw, prepared for some stupid dismissive remark.  There was a flicker of something in his eyes, something almost sad and soft, but then he nodded.  “Sure you do.”  She almost closed her eyes in relief, but instead just nodded in return.  He reached out and tapped the book with his finger.  “You finish your reading first, though.  That’s important, for all John’s gonna try to tell you otherwise.  But I promise you I’ll teach you after supper, OK?”

“OK.”  He’d said before he’d try to protect her, and that was fine, but he also saw now that she wanted to be able to protect herself.  That she would never want to rely solely on someone else to protect her again.  Her mother couldn’t protect her in the end, as fierce as Cecelia Jackson was--or had been, Tilly wasn’t quite sure.  She’d had to get herself out of the grasp of the Foremans herself.  She wasn’t going to let that go by making herself helpless.  Arthur understood that, in some wordless way.  That said plenty about him, so far as she was concerned.

[carriagelamp]

Weirdly enough, I often find myself reading less in the summer, since I have more time than I do during the rest of the year to do other things. Also artfight has been eating up more than a bit of my free time! But here’s a collection a graphic novels I sat around on the hammock reading, and some novels I finished up...

(Everyone go read All Systems Red, holy crow guys)

A Whale of the Wild

The “sequel” to A Wolf Called Wander, though it doesn’t actually connect to the previous novel except in the stylistic/thematic sense. A Whale of the Wild is very much a standalone novel. And a pretty decent one! Personally, I think I liked Wolf more, but this one was a pleasant, informative read, with just the right amount of crushing dread sprinkled in. It’s about a young orca called Vega who is learning to become a new wayfinder for her pod but who still has a lot to learn, especially in an ocean that is becoming increasingly hostile to orcas and the other sealife that live alongside humans. When a devastating earthquake hits, Vega and her little brother find themselves separated from their family, lost in a now horrifyingly unfamiliar environment, and fighting starvation as the salmon that sustain them become more and more unreliable. It’s a desperate fight for survival as they search for food and their missing family. This book is written for a middle grade level, and does a really good job of putting the current environmental crisis into an animal’s perspective while giving the readers something to hope for.

The Adventure Zone: The Crystal Kingdom

Every July I eagerly anticipate the next Adventure Zone graphic novel. This one is for their fourth arc, The Crystal Kingdom, in which Magnus, Taako, and Merle respond to a SOS from a floating laboratory that is gradually being consumed by crystals and which threatens the entire world should it fall into the ocean. Carey Pietsch’s art continues to be absolutely fantastic, so beautifully and hilariously expressive, and this one delivers some great Merle moments, lots of Carey Fangbattle, and, of course, Kravtiz. Kravitz, my beloved…

Anyway, I obviously always recommend these. If you’ve never gotten into The Adventure Zone, I totally recommend either trying these graphic novels — or even better, just go listen to the podcast because it really is both hilarious and creates a shockingly good and heart-wrenching story by the end.

All Systems Red

I’ve seen The Murderbot Diaries on my dash occasionally, and it always looked interesting, but a friend’s recommendation finally compelled me to read the first novella of the series. And holy shit y’all. Absolutely the best book I’ve read this month, it’s amazing. Mind-blowingly good. Also, if you’re like me and want a good audiobook, it’s a nice three-hour listen, very chill!

Anyway, All Systems Red is about a Security Unit, an artificially created being that’s part-organic part-mechanical and all-company-owned-and-controlled. However, self-named “Murderbot” has managed to hack into the system that suppresses its own will, and is now coasting along, doing the least amount of work its job requires not to be noticed, while preferring to spend all its time watching the hours and hours of soap operas it has downloaded into its brain. And it’s a tolerable if somewhat dull life, until the science team that it's currently rented to is attacked and the whole mission goes pear-shaped. Suddenly Murderbot has to scramble to keep its humans alive… while its humans scramble with the realization that their “SecUnit” isn’t actually a mindless robot like they had all believed...

This story is both gripping and hilariously funny. Murderbot has such a unique voice and perspective and it’s an absolute pleasure to follow its story. I reallly need to read the next book...

Asterix and the Banquet

A classic. I was startled when I realized I hadn’t actually read this Asterix story… but hell I’m not gonna complain, it lets me read one of the originals for the first time again! In this Asterix volume, the Indomitable Gauls and the Romans end up arranging a bet — the Romans intend to keep them under siege, trapped in their village, while Asterix is confident that he can easily evade them… and will prove it by going on a tour around all of Gaul, collecting iconic foods from each region in order to return and put on a fine banquet. So we get a fantastic adventure in which Asterix and Obelix run all over the country, pursued the whole way, while making cheerful stops at the various eateries along the way. Also the first book Dogmatix shows up in! All around, a wonderful read, fun like all the best Asterix comics are.

Beauty Pop v4

A less impressive graphic novel. The first Beauty Pop is one of my guilty pleasure manga because… it really is pretty stupid but in the best possible ways. I mean, the whole thing is framed around hairstyling battles, like a shojo sports manga without the sports. It’s bonkers. Unfortunately, the series does not really manage to hold up, and it really begins to feel repetitive and dragging as it continues… as a lot of series like this do. *shrug* Unsurprising but still kinda disappointing I suppose. The building three-way romantic tension is mildly interesting if for no other reason than the main character Does Not Notice and Does Not Care about any of it, which is amusing and refreshing.

FRNCK v5

Now this series only gets better and better as it goes. This is the first book of the second arc, and somehow the danger just seems to be ramping up and up and up. The cavefamily have lost their home… as well as Léonard and Gargouille. Heartbroken, shocked, and angry, Franck is the one who ends up shouldering the blame for their presumed deaths as the others mourn. Things only get worse when Franck finds himself separated from the family, and in the territory of another tribe, this one hostile and cannibalistic...

Haikyuu v5

I continue to read this series because it continues to be charming… though it is beginning to feel, maybe, just a little repetitive. Kind of an inevitability with sports manga. But so far it continues to be good enough to overcome that. I’m not sure what I can say about this series that I haven’t already, so I’ll simply say it continues to be one of the most impressive sports manga I’ve read, and the author does a fantastic job of creating engaging characters, fleshed out teams, and really compelling relationships. I do genuinely adore all the main members of Crows, along with a number of characters from the rival teams as well. And of course it has some kickass volleyball scenes that are just drawn so dramatically they can’t help but take your breath away a little.

M*A*S*H Goes To Maine

Meh. The original book of the series was actually quite good in my opinion. This one… considerably less so. The first part I enjoyed more, since it was about Hawkeye, Trapper, Duke, and Oliver Jones trying to set up the FinestKind Clinic and Fishmarket in Crabapple Cove (which… is just the best premise I could have ever asked for). However, the book spends most of its time describing the quirky lives and times of other people living in the area and I… just… don’t care. It was funny at times but… I just don’t care. I wanted to hear more about the main cast. Also I found this book felt more racist and misogynistic than the first which also put me off :/ Wouldn’t bother if I were you. Go read the first book instead, or better yet just watch the TV show which is an obvious banger.

My Heart’s in the Highlands

I have had this on my “currently reading” list for so long but I’m officially giving up. It’s a really good book in theory but my god I can’t get over the pacing.

It’s about Lady Jane, a woman studying medicine in Edinburgh in 1888, and who suddenly finds herself back in the Highlands in the 13th century. Lost and confused, Jane is now at the mercy Clan Donald’s hospitality while she tries to adjust to this new world and hunts for her broken time machine. Fortunately, this hospitality include a burgeoning friendship with a red-haired warrior woman, Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill, who opens Jane’s eyes to the way the world could be.

Listen. It drives me nuts. This book should be completely up my alley, it has everything I like — IT HAS ALL OF ITS HISTORICAL FOOTNOTES CITED AT THE BACK, LITTLE EXTRA DETAILS ABOUT EVERY CHAPTER. THAT’S MY SHIT RIGHT THERE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE BEING ABLE TO GO OVER HISTORICAL DETAILS?? AND WELL RESEARCHED FOOTNOTES?? And yet it doesn’t. Fucking. Work for me. It has a kickass Scottish warrior lady as a love interest! It has a badass lady doctor! It has fish-out-of-water culture shock! But it also has a completely meandering plot, no sense of building tension, and a romance that just happens out of nowhere and feels completely unearned and uninteresting.

I would genuinely just rather read Outlander again, which I know has its own host of problems, but at least Outlander felt exciting and interesting and tense and funny. The romance built in fits and starts, it was complicated, and kept me interested. That book had me hooked (and has me hooked every time I reread it) whereas this book I’ve been sadly picking at for months like its a plate of overcooked spinach. This felt like an attempt at a queer, historically accurate knockoff which I would normally be super into but which just could not stick the landing.

Moomin on the Riviera

My first time actually reading anything from the Moomin canon. I have zero idea how to feel about it! It certainly is as feral as I’ve heard described! Overall, I think I enjoyed it but it sure made me feel strange emotions I didn’t know existed. I’m not even going to try to describe it. Read it if you want a batshit insane anti-capitalist comic.

Surviving the City

This was good in some areas, less good in others. It had a very interesting indigenous perspective on life in the modern city, the foster system, and The Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women issue, which I’ve never seen handled in a book before. Something about the pacing did not completely click with me and I found myself getting easily distracted, but it’s definitely worth the read just to experience it and look at the issues it deals with through the characters’ (and author’s) eyes. It did give me a lot to think about and wrestle with, which is sometimes the best thing a book can give you.

Torchwood: Pack Animals

A really fun read, more so than I had ever expected! If you like Torchwood and want more stories about the team before everything goes to shit, this is perfect for that. It includes the entire cast, an interest mystery to be unravelled, lots of slavering monsters, Rhys being really wonderful and sweet (which I didn’t know I wanted until I read this book), and all the humour I expect from Torchwood. I had to send a lot of quotes to my long-suffering girlfriend who a) does not watch this show but b) needs to tolerate it because I find it too funny to keep to myself. It was good enough to make me go out another book of the series since this was the only one my library carried.

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clans part 15! @scentedcandlecryptid @hoshisoul

Several more days; maybe four? Leonardo lost count. However long it was, Leonardo was running out of time. The only thing he had to tell him the right way to go in this new, yokai-filled world was the night map Usagi had given to him; it laid out the nighttime routes Leonardo was supposed to take, and he had to fill in the daytime path on his own. More than once, he had found the path he had selected was unfollowable for one reason or the other, and he had to take a detour. The only positive was, without the wagon slowing them down, they could move a lot faster. However, the lack of wagon also involved tugging around a seven-year-old who made every attempt to resist the slightest bit of progress.

Leonardo stabbed his odachi quickly into the water. The clear stream ran red, and Leonardo beamed as he pulled out a decent-sized fish.

“YES! Oh, finally!” Leonardo almost ate the still-moving fish raw right there, but bit his lip to resist the urge. He had to at least cook it first! The fish still on his odachi, Leonardo went the short distance back to the small campsite that was simply a fireplace surrounded by a small ring of melted snow. Nuriyuki was sitting beside the fire, wet up to his waist from walking in the snow, his fur still dazzled with the white frozen flakes that fell from the sky.

“I’m tired of fish.” Nuriyuki frowned when he saw Leonardo return with the salmon, holding it over the fire still skewered on his odachi. “Can’t we get something else?”

“You got McDonalds money?” Leonardo scoffed.

Nuriyuki tilted his head. “What’s McDonalds?”

“Exactly.” Leonardo slowly rotated the fish like he had seen Michelangelo do on their camping trip.

“I want Usagi…” Nuriyuki pouted, crossing his arms and sinking down into his body.

Leonardo ignored him and focused on cooking the fish. It was the biggest one he had caught so far, enough to feed both him and Nuriyuki! Did the cub not realize that Leonardo was also tired of the disgusting, pungent taste of the fish? Did he not understand it was preferable to starvation?! Then Leonardo looked back down at the cub and felt immediately guilty for the violent thoughts in his head. Of course this cub didn't know any better! Until just a few weeks ago, he had been living in royalty. Fed what he wanted when he wanted. Been catered to. Spending his life in the warmth and splendor of a castle seemed a world away from the snowy nights and hungry days. And now the only comfort he’d known in this new life was gone too. Leonardo could almost imagine how that felt…

Leonardo pulled his sword off of the fire and the fish off of the sword, using his odachi to cut the fish in portions. The bigger slice was given to Nuriyuki.

“Here, eat.” Leonardo encouraged. “Then we have to get moving again.”

Nuriyuki took one look at the fish. “I! WANT! USAGI!” He tossed the fish away.

“Hey!” Leonardo lunged, bouncing the fish between two hands before he was able to catch it. Then he pulled back close to the fire, hugging both portions of fish closely. “Usagi isn’t here! And if you won’t eat the fish, then I will!”

Leonardo made a show of bringing the portion close to his mouth, opening his mouth slowly and pretending to take a bite. Nuriyuki’s expression changed completely and he gasped, jumping forward to snatch the fish back from Leonardo and immediately scarf it down. Leonardo smirked at the victory and started to eat his own half of the catch.

Nuriyuki had cleaned his fish in seconds, and then pouted once more when it was gone. “I want more.”

“There isn’t any more.” Leonardo said, taking another bite of his fish and savoring the warmth; it was cooked so unevenly that some parts were burnt while others were almost raw, but he didn't care. Food was food and it filled his belly.

“Give me yours.” Nuriyuki demanded, and before Leonardo could deny him, the cub had snatched the fish from his hands and already devoured it.

“HEY!” Leonardo snatched what was left, but it was only bone by that point. He gave a loud growl and turned an angry eye to the thief, who only crossed his arms and puffed out his chest to appear big and bad.

“This is stupid!” Nuriyuki scrunched up his nose and squeaked furiously. “You suck! I miss Usagi. At least Usagi could catch different kinds of fish!”

Leonardo wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and lash out at something as the rage tickled his throat trying to escape. His eye twitched, and he was sure his face was several shades darker with the heat that couldn’t escape. He knew that if he tried to say something, even something as simple as a scolding, the volcano in his stomach would erupt and spew out hatred. He hated the snow, he hated the taste of fish, he hated the emptiness in his belly! He hated having to take care of this cub that he didn't want but had an obligation to, he hated all of it!

Then a blanket of coolness washed over him, snubbing out the fire and making him feel sick and frozen in its place. This child didn't want this either. Of course the cub wouldn’t want to be out here in the cold, just as hungry as Leonardo was. Just as tired of the taste of fish. Just as angry but without the filter developed to stop it from coming out. He was in the same position as Leonardo, except with years less experience and no way to express how unhappy he was. All Leonardo did was stand up and kick snow into the fire to put it out.

“We have to get some ground covered before nightfall.” Leonardo said, looking to the horizon and the sun that was starting its descent across the sky. He grabbed Nuriyuki’s paw and lifted him to his feet against the badger’s wishes.

“My feet hurt.” Nuriyuki whined.

“We don’t have a cart.” Leonardo tried to explain in an even voice, but the slightest hiss escaped, “And I can’t just be carrying you everywhere.”

Nuriyuki waddled after Leonardo but he wasn’t happy about it. “Usagi would carry me if he was here.”

“Well that’s too bad, because he isn’t here.” Leonardo’s chest felt tight; he was just as concerned for the wellbeing of the samurai as the rabbit’s ward was. “So you can either walk or get left behind and eaten by wolves.” It probably wasn’t the best thing to say, but Leonardo couldn’t care at that point.

Nuriyuki pulled away and scrunched up his nose. “There are no wolves in Japan.”

Leonardo saw an opening and he locked in on it. It was always a great feeling when he could put his obscure knowledge to use. “You mean you don’t know?” Years of living with Donatello taught Leonardo how to perform, and how to perform well. At least, it was well enough to fool an inexperienced young Daimyo.

“Don’t know what?” Nuriyuki tilted his head, eyes twinkling with curiosity and apprehension.

Leonardo turned around to kneel in front of the cub and get his full attention. “You don’t know about the Honshu wolves and the Ezo wolves?” His mouth dropped open and he sucked in a gasp. “How could you not know?”

“W… what are they…?” Nuriyuki asked softly, his face withered with fear

“They’re wolves, of course.” Leonardo stood up again and motioned behind them to the forest they had left behind. “They live in the forest during the day, but at night they come out into open fields just like this one. Wolves of black and brown with glowing red eyes. And you know what they do when they come out at night?”

“No…” Nuriyuki’s lip quivered and tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

“They come and steal disobedient children and they gobble them all up!” Leonardo rubbed his stomach and licked his lips dramatically for a moment before turning back to the badger cub. “Do you wanna be all gobbled up?”

“Noooo!” Nuriyuki ran forward, hugging Leonardo tightly and burying his face in the turtle's side. “Don’t let them eat me, Lenardo!”

Leonardo pretended to think about it, bringing a finger to his chin and clicking his tongue, “Well, alright. But you have to promise to behave from now on.”

“I will!” Nuriyuki insisted, “I’ll do anything!”

“Then start walking.”