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doki-doki-imagines · 5 months ago

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Hybrid!Cow Nagi x Reader

tw: Smut, afab reader, use of she/her, hybrid x human sex, Nagi is a bit mean, but he is also very very in love.

a/n: a small piece of a much bigger fic inspired by this official art. This is just the smut part, but I wanted to get this idea out of my system. It was set in a world where most people are hybrids, and just a few (like reader) are born human. Nagi is one of the local mailmen and the first person to meet you. It was going to be a long, fluffy fic ending with filthy smut. So take just the cherry on top, lol. Maybe one day I'll complete this.

Seishiro isn’t used to rough nights like he isn’t used to scratched knuckles and sore muscles, but it seemed the only right thing to do when that shit poor example of a cat hybrid treated you like that.

He lays on your bed, white hair sprawled on your soft sky-blue pillow, his large-fitting hoodie and blue pants miraculously clean. “Smell nice” Seishiro thinks, cow ears fluttering when your smell on the pillow hits his nostrils. It’s relaxing after such an intense fight. For that dude, not for him.

“It’s an honor to be my partner-“ “Nobody wants a simple human as a partner, I’m doing it just because my parents asked, and anyway they should thank me since I could get much better-“ “I don’t want a loser nerd as a partner, they should start to dress and eat better-“

Seishiro doesn’t remember what came first, but the clear image of you crouched on yourself, lips trembling and fat tears hanging on your lower lashes keeps playing in his head. His tail beat nervously on your mattress, remembering the entitlement in that loser voice. Nagi bites the inside of his cheek, hard enough to draw blood, your pillow now pressed to his face, trying to calm himself down with your smell. His leg twitches, remembering how hard he kicked that douchebag, straight on his chest, making him hit a table behind and surprising all his friends.

It was already a pain to go out with everyone, but seeing you on a date with a guy that wasn’t him, and treated that badly was the cherry on top of his already poor patience.

“Is everything okay Nagi?” A shiver runs down Seishiro’s body, making every muscle twitch for the surprise. He moves away the pillow, side-eyeing you, before plopping it on his back to look better at you.

“I have to ask two things-“ You nod, prompting him to ask whatever he wants, while sitting on your bed, eyes locked with his ones.

“Call me Seishiro-“ You nod “and-“ He gulps, throat dry from the moment your figure met his sight. “Are you trying to seduce me?” His voice is calm as always, but the intensity of his eyes makes you jump on the spot.

“Seduce? I mean, I usually dress like this to-“ You turn around, not wanting to look at him, embarrassed by his comment. Your sheer nightgown, with cute sunflowers embroidered on it and matching panties, left very little to the imagination after all. Not to talk about you being braless, a sight that sent in short circuit his brain.

“Usually, so not always-” He whispers, almost into your ear. He can see a shiver running down your spine making you arch. The desire to run a finger from your neck to your lower back is tempting.

He lay his chin on your shoulder, letting out a sigh, annoyed by the whirlwind that is happening in his stomach. “Can I kiss you?” His greyish eyes lock with yours, trying to read your emotions. Seishiro doesn’t move, waiting to understand your intentions.

You nod, and to Seishiro's surprise, you make the first move. Your soft lips touch his ones, it’s a butterfly touch that lasts way too little for the white-haired guy's tastes. “Is it good?” Your voice breaks a little and Nagi has to keep himself from pinching your cheek. “Yeah, but let’s improve.” He mutters back, full lips locking with yours, tasting a different shade of love from the previous one. Seishiro’s eyes are closed but he can feel your softer hands cupping his cheeks, before sliding lower to his chin and neck. He worries that you may have pyrokinetic powers since every time you touch his naked skin he seems to get hotter.

You moan into his mouth when his big hands start to wander, one groping your mound, protected by his rough touch thanks to your thin nightgown. The other pushed you towards the mattress, making you both slide lower into your bed.

“Sei-“ You break the kiss, breath heavy and barely open eyes, just to notice your lover laying at your side, the end of his tail tickling your right thigh.

“Can I go further?” He is surprised by himself. Seishiro, Mr. Hassle man suddenly asks for more and more, knowing exactly that he’ll have to do most of the work. You nod, neck turned in an uncomfortable position. Nagi notices and decides to leave little pecks down your throat, trying to make you relax.

Such a gentle gesture as opposed to his deft fingers lifting the end of your nightgown, exposing the soft skin of your leg to his rough handling. Hand groping and slapping your thigh with no finesse and for his own enjoyment.

“Ngh, Nagi-“ You get interrupted by another slap to your leg, making your ass grind into his lap, a gesture that generates a choked moan in Seishiro’s throat. “I told you to call me Seishiro-“ He spits out, leaving a small bite on your shoulder, not too hard to bruise, but still leaving a sign.

Nagi’s lips find yours again, his tongue prodding at your entrance, asking, wanting, to lap into your mouth, to drink your moans, and to taste your spit. You surrender immediately, your tongue weakly fighting against his, lost to the pleasure this entire situation is bringing you. The hand that was massaging your leg is sliding closer to your core, bunching your nightgown to your waist. A deft finger slides into your panties, playing first with one curl of your hairs, before pulling it, making you groan.

“She kept herself untouched for me, maybe she hoped to scare that loser off-“Seishiro thinks, pushing his hips, and therefore his boner against your ass, that idea clouding his brain even more. “I like them, keep them for me, mh?” He pants in your mouth, your lips still slightly open from the previous kiss. A high-pitched moan leaves your lips and Nagi takes it as consent to his order instead of a response to his forefinger assaulting your clit.

Seishiro has never been a patient guy, and it shows even now when his fingers caress your outer folds before digging a bit deeper, but never enough for your taste, edging you constantly while playing with the bundle of nerves with no grace. He wants to see fat tears roll down your cheeks, he wants to hear you beg for him, he wants to feel desired, and he wants it now.

“Sei-Seishiro!” You half scream, closing your eyes and finally, making tears escape. Nagi keeps himself from smirking, but his heart roars in pleasure at the sight. “Good-“

“You-you are a bully.” You interrupt him, your own phrase is broken by sighs of pleasure. Breath gets caught in his throat, not expecting to hear that from you, dick twitching when hearing your voice in strain.

“So, you don’t like me anymore? You want me to get out?” Seishiro teases you, speeding up the movement of his fingers. Your head moving left and right tells him all he needs to know, together with the hand that keeps pulling at the collar of his hoodie to keep him close. He finally pushes his middle finger inside your wet core “So wet, for me.” He mumbles biting his lower lip, thrusting faster, and soon adding the ring finger, curling them so deliciously that your eyes cross in pleasure. You are a mess, but Seishiro is no better, grinding his clothed boner into your ass desperately searching for relief, while his tail keeps trashing on his side of the bed, trying not to hurt your softer, human skin.

“Ah-ah” You moan, almost into his mouth, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

“Why do you keep your mouth open? C’mon if you need to say something, say it-“ The malice in his voice is clear, teasing you so meanly, but he can’t really stop himself from trying to push your buttons.

“Ngh-bully!” You groan back, your hand sliding to his hard-on groping it through his gym pants, noticing the big wet patch.

And how big he is.

“Ah-“ He moans too, the touch of your smaller hand driving him almost immediately to completion. It soon becomes a competition on whom would crumble first, both your bodies hot and sweaty trying to pull away but at the same time searching desperately for each other touch.

You reach your end first, throwing your head back into his shoulder, and letting out a high-pitched moan that Seishiro is sure to remember till he breathes. He pulls away as soon as possible, laying on his back and immediately pushing down, just the needed amount, his pants and boxers, freeing his erection, which hit his still-covered abdomen.

“Angh-“ He groans half in pain and half in pleasure for being finally able to free his cock, all flushed and angry for being edged for so long.

“Sei-“ You turn around. The mixture of your sweet, wet eyes and soft voice almost makes Nagi cum on the spot. “G-give me a moment. Then I-I can try to ride you.” You say in between heavy breaths, still swimming in the pleasure of the previous orgasm.

But as much as Seishiro would like to accept “N-No, turn around like before.” He orders, but to your ears, it seems more like he is begging you. Nagi notices and damn himself for sounding so pathetic, but the image of you on top of him, wet eyes, pouty mouth, and trembling legs, still wearing that damn sheer nightgown, wouldn’t make him last.

To say the truth just that image is sending him over the edge.

You nod at his request, turning around just like he asked; you must have thrown your panties somewhere since your back is completely exposed to him. Some droplet of your essence stains the apex of your legs, making Seishiro damn himself for not going down on you, having now to settle for his fingers to taste you.

Seishiro doesn’t indulge too much in your taste, even if it matches your smell, intoxicating, therefore he rolls on your side, grabbing your waist to pull you closer, his erection grinding against your back, slick with all the pre that copiously rolled down during your intercourse.

“Is-Is it gonna fit?” You look at him, and Nagi doesn’t have in him to lie to such sweet eyes “Maybe. I’ll go slow. If you were a cow hybrid it would have been easier-“ He brushes away some hair sticking to your forehead to land a sweet long kiss there “But I want you. More than any hybrid, ever. If it hurts I’m gonna stop.” He kisses your cheek, now dry after all those tears, before pushing just the tip inside your core.

Seishiro sees you wince, but you don’t tell him to stop. His left hand that was holding your waist is now entwined with yours, the other massaging your bosom, but not resisting the desire to pinch your pert nipple. Nagi pecks down your neck, to your chest, while sliding his throbbing member inside you, trying to ease your pain.

“Ngh-“ He groans, irises become liquid bliss. You are so warm and welcoming, sucking him in like you were made to fit together. All those hybrid theories could go fuck themselves because the white-haired guy is sure nobody could make him feel so ecstatic. “You are so good- so good for me.” He moans in between kisses, pushing your nightgown up to touch your trembling tummy, mouth now kissing and sucking your covered chest, pulling sweet moans out of your throat, while his tail tries to encircle your lifted leg to keep you impossibly close.

“You-You feel so nice Sei-“ You breathe out, scratching the little hair on his nape pulling a guttural groan from his mouth. He looks back at you, and you twitch feeling his hot mouth leaving your bosom, missing it already “Can I fuck you?” You tighten around his length and nod, biting your lower lip eyes looking at him so deeply he thinks he may drown in them.

He starts slowly, never really pushing out, not wanting to be separated long from your warmth. But things start to go downhill when your sweet, almost mellifluous moans meet his ears, calling his name so deliciously that he soon gives up on rationality like a sailor enchanted by a mermaid’s voice. His thrusts are deep and fast, making you both mewl out each other names.

“I’m-close-“ You slur out, one hand gripping one of the small horns on Nagi’s head to find purchase to reality in this frenzy. Seishiro just nods at your words, having noticed way before you told him, his length almost slipping out for how wet you are. His deft fingers return to your clit, rubbing furious circles on it to bring you to your apex “Ngh-no, together.” You grumble, trashing a bit and trying to pull away the hand that was bringing you so soon to delirious pleasure.

He looks at you from the nook of your head, not sure you are serious about this. But the look in your eyes, so determined and confident makes him crumble. “Ngh, ah-“ A pathetic mewl escaped his throat making him wince for how cringe he sounded, his thrusts now sloppy and with no finesse, just trying to grind the both of you to the apex. Seishiro kisses your already swollen lips when you reach your peak, too worried about the pitiful sound he’d make, but damning himself for losing the occasion to hear your voice one more time. Your walls spasm around his length trying to suck everything from his cock, desperate to have all of him inside you. He thrusts a bit more into your core, not wanting to leave your warmth so soon, but the overstimulation feels soon overbearing.

You break the kiss, both your breaths are heavy, lashes hanging low like you are waking up from a dream. You cup his cheek, your thumb tracing little hearts making his heart thump harder than before. It seems like you want to say something, you have a cute little smile on your face but Seishiro doesn’t give you the time, his plump lips against yours, tongue already begging for one more dance. The overstimulation subdues to desire, and from the twinkle in your eyes, Seishiro knows you are on the same page.

The night ahead is still long.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi x y/n #nagi smut

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vaggietheangel · 4 months ago

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Chaggie headcannons 💜💛

Charlie confessed to Vaggie by performing a love song for her.

Charlie LOVES Vaggie’s hair. She always tells her how it's so soft and pretty. She helps her brush and maintain it, sinse its so long. Charlie loves to braid Vaggie’s hair and put little flowers in it.

Vaggie lifts her wing above Charlie’s head to protect her from getting wet when it rains.

Charlie leaves a single red rose on Vaggie’s pillow with a note saying "Sleep well, I love you." When she's working late.

Charlie walked in on Vaggie wearing one of her suits. She thought it was the cutest thing ever, so she took a picture and keeps it in her wallet.

When Charlie is sad Vaggie wraps her up in a blanket and kisses her on the forhead. Saying "esta bien mi princesa"

Charlie called Vaggie "angel" once at the start of thier relationship. Vaggie panicked and Charlie thought it made her uncomfortable so she didn't do it again, until the truth came out.

Whenever Vaggie gets a new dress Charlie will ask her to "Do a spin" for her in it.

Vaggie keeps 2 different spears under her bed, just in case something happens to the first one and she needs to protect Charlie.

Charlie loves to make Vaggie flustered. She teases her and flirts with her because her face will go all red. She will then cup Vaggie’s blushing face in her hands and kiss her forhead.

Vaggie walks behind Charlie when they're in public, to make sure she's not attacked from behind. She will stare down anyone who looks dangerous within a few meters of them.

Charlie tells people that she found Vaggie through "The cat distribution system." When they ask how they met.

Charlie always holds Vaggie’s waist when she kissed her on the lips.

When Charlie can't sleep she turns over to her side and watches Vaggie sleep for a bit. It helps her drift off.

Vaggie falls down rabbit holes of reading and watching things that scare her. It used to be two sentence horror stories, now its my little pony infection AU's. She always ends up cuddling into Charlie’s side for comfort. She did this even before they started dateing.

When Charlie wants to ask Vaggie to dance with her, she kisses the top her hand and calls her "My pretty lady."

Charlie fed a racoon some bread from thier bedroom window one day. After a week seven racoons showed up at their window asking for food. Charlie brought them inside and started cuddling them. Vaggie was used to Charlie doing this type of stuff so she just brought food for the racoons.

Vaggie stands on her tip toes, and gently grabs the collar of Charlie’s shirt and pulls her down to her face level, when she wants to kiss Charlie.

Vaggie made Charlie a bow tie that matches her ribbon. Her love language is acts of service, so she makes most of the gifts that she gives Charlie.

Vaggie brings Charlie breakfast in bed with heart-shaped pancakes when she's had a difficult night beforehand.

Vaggie rests her head in Charlie’s lap wherever she reads a book. Charlie takes the chance to play with her hair.

Charlie and Vaggie have a very fancy victorian doll house in their room. They have mini versions of all the members of the hotel in them. There's even a prociline Keekee and Fat nuggets. They make the doll Charlie and Vaggie kiss. Niffty found the doll version of herself and stole it.

Vaggie gently bites Charlie on the arm when she sees her acting extra cute.

Vaggie taught Charlie how to ice skate. Charlie pretended to be bad at it so she could hold Vaggie’s hands the whole time.

Charlie adores Vaggie’s laugh. Vaggie is also very ticklish on her wings. So Charlie tickels them any time they're in private.

#hazbin hotel #vaggie #hazbin vaggie #charlie morningstar #chaggie #Charlie x Vaggie #Vaggie x Charlie #hazbin hotel headcannons

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bonefall · 8 months ago

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Clear Sky Killed Bumble; Gray Wing's Desperate Defense

The "analysis" I've seen out there is beyond bananas. We are out there on state-of-the-art exploratory vessels, sailing the 7 seas into brand new lands, discovering new kinds of fruits to compare to the absolute lack of sanity people are displaying.

Clear Sky definitively killed Bumble. Gray Wing does not want to believe reality.

While some try to argue this death down to "negligent homicide," that Clear Sky essentially beat her unconscious and left her in an unsafe area where she got killed, that's so unlikely I'm confident in saying it's wrong. The evidence shows that Clear Sky tormented her to death with a ferocious, sadistic beating which caused her to bleed out, which is second degree murder, and used the smell of a fox and Gray Wing's blind adoration to lie his way out of consequences.

There's not a lot of ambiguity in the evidence that is presented. There is fox scent but no fox bites, and the preceding chapter provides a comparison between the wounds on Misty vs the wounds on Bumble. Clear Sky's story is so convoluted that not a single part of it makes any sense. Quite frankly it's only been topped recently by the "I can confirm this woman is evil because she snored her evil plans in their sleep" fib of ASC.

In either case, Gray Wing believes neither. He does not believe this is Clear Sky's kill in any way.

This moment is an excellent example of how Gray Wing continuously prevents anyone from taking any action against his dear brother's violence until it is too late. By convincing the moor cats to all calm down when they're rightfully furious, and treating the lives and perspectives of native cats as lesser, Gray Wing becomes complicit in some of the harm this tyrant manages to carry out.

To shield a person from the consequences of their own actions is enabling, regardless of if it's direct or indirect, wittingly or unwittingly.

We are going to go over the whole of the 26th chapter of DOTC Book 2: Thunder Rising, from Bumble's death scene to Gray Wing's downplay of it. A meticulous, step-by-step analysis.

Leading-up context

The Scene

The Immediate Response

Incredible suggestions that have been made that I had to read with my own eyes

Leading-up Context

Let's start from square one by introducing the cast, with the assumption you have not read DOTC or are just vaguely aware of it due to its reputation.

Bumble is a kittypet who regularly visits the woods without issue. She is a small supporting character in the first book, The Sun Trail, whose purpose is mostly to be a friend to Turtle Tail, who is the future wife of the main POV character, Gray Wing.

As the two girls become closer friends, Gray Wing becomes more controlling of Turtle Tail and more hostile towards Bumble. This culminates in Turtle Tail leaving "The Settlers" to live with her friend over the winter. All is idyllic until the humans adopt a third cat, known to the fandom as Tom the Wifebeater because of what happens next in Book 2; Thunder Rising.

Turtle Tail becomes pregnant, but notices that her roommates are keeping some kind of secret. She begs Bumble until she reveals that humans tend to take kittens away when they're old enough to be weaned. Turtle Tail leaves to return to the wild, and Tom the Wifebeater begins methodically torturing Bumble over the next month as punishment, leaving scratches, bruises, and "dried blood" all over her when the humans are not looking.

When Bumble tries to seek help from the moor cats, Gray Wing is frustrated that the battered woman has interrupted his walk with his new wife. It is stressed that Gray Wing hates her for taking his love interest away, and he believes she is too fat and clumsy to live in the wild. The leader of the moor cat settlers, Tall Shadow, has a hard time throwing Bumble out, until two outsiders, Wind and Gorse, who are trying to get accepted into this group themselves, take the initiative and drag Bumble back to her domestic abuser.

Gray Wing is biased against Bumble. This is a fact. He explicitly does not like her.

Shortly afterwards, the forest cat settlers, led by Gray Wing's brother Clear Sky, experience a fire and begin to expand their borders. They are already known as a violent group, their leader is a manipulative liar, and Gray Wing himself was once viciously mauled as Clear Sky sat by and watched.

Yes, Gray Wing is aware that Clear Sky sat there and watched, too. He called out to him and Clear Sky did nothing as Fox, a man who knew full well that this cat was his leader's brother, was shredding him.

Gray Wing doesn't want to believe his brother is a bad person. This is also a fact. He explicitly feels guilty when he has thoughts otherwise.

On-screen, through the POV of Gray Wing's nephew Thunder, we see a native woman named Misty slaughtered by Clear Sky for her land. Her children are taken, and her body lays unburied and rotting for two days before Wind Runner and Gorse Fur (sporting new names at the request of the moor cats) find her.

They describe the wounds they found on the corpse in detail and make an accusation,

Now, before this point, Wind Runner and Gorse Fur have been doing everything in their power to endear themselves to this group. Gray Wing himself trusted them, because they've taught him methods for living here, caught and shared food, and even saved the life of his other brother, Jagged Peak, when a burrow collapsed on him.

But now his xenophobia towards them is coming back-- because they're calling for action against his brother. He's only ever uneasy about them when they seem to have an ounce of influence over his group.

Turtle Tail's conclusion is completely sound, and if it hadn't been for someone else, would be correct. Clear Sky DID move to kill the children-- he was stopped by his underling, Petal. Turts was able to understand what Clear Sky was going to do without seeing it firsthand.

The crowd is shocked and furious, for logical reason. They ARE in danger. Clear Sky IS escalating his violence and expanding his territory. It's starting with the native population, and the moor cats are able to understand and predict what will happen next.

Except Gray Wing.

The Scene

While investigating ONE confirmed murder, as there is no reason to doubt Wind Runner and Gorse Fur except for conveniently xenophobic ones, and TWO suspected murders of children, the patrol hears the sudden shriek of a cat in pain.

Bumble is found bleeding to death on a previously unclaimed patch of land, at the very center of a circle of trampled grass. There is the reeking smell of fox, and under that, there is the scent of Clear Sky.

Her wounds are described in great detail,

Completely consistent with the way that the wounds were described on Misty. Nearly word-for-word.

The only evidence of fox is the smell. No one heard it bark, there is no note of it bounding off, there are no bites or wounds consistent with those of a canid. They were described exactly the same as Misty's.

Slits are cat claw wounds. Not fox bite wounds. She was not being bitten, she was cut all over her body, prominently down her belly and sides.

Unless this fox shapeshifted into a cat and then meticulously created wounds consistent with the ones left on Misty, Clear Sky did this.

Where did the fox go? Probably came to investigate, maybe licked at the bloody cuts expecting a meal, and then was scared off by Bumble suddenly waking up and screaming. It's possible, but unlikely that the patrol's clamor scared it off, considering they didn't see or hear any fox noises.

There are also signs of a struggle-- and Bumble was not able to fight in the condition she is currently in. It's most likely it was the struggle from when she was being tormented and trying to get away, unless there was a fight with a fox while Bumble was still unconscious and she was dragged to the middle of it, for some reason.

However, a fight with a fox is still unlikely, as the patrol was able to hear the whimpering of a cat in pain as they approached but not the furious sounds of a battle with a large predator. If there was this whole epic brawl with a fox that trampled the grass around Bumble, why was there only a single shriek?

Gray Wing, expert on the smell of Clear Sky's armpit, confirms it's his brother. His whole world spins when he realizes his Dear Brother is involved in this, feeling horror and disbelief.

(Also note that Gray Wing implies Clear Sky's involvement is the prophetic bad thing his adopted son mentioned in the previous chapter, not the shredded woman dying in front of him lol)

The rest of the group is able to acknowledge reality, coming to the obvious conclusion. Clear Sky is expanding his territory, including the very patch they're standing on. He has been violent in the past, even against other settlers. Misty was slaughtered in a way consistent with the victim dying in front of them, so he is killing cats who stand in his way. Gray Wing's immediate, literally DESPERATE response is first to jump to Clear Sky's defense.

Gray Wing asks Bumble directly if it was a fox, and she is too weak to answer... until she finds the strength, as a domestic abuse victim, to blame herself for the way a cat beat her bloody. She thinks it's her fault for hunting here, because she was hungry, not thinking straight, and stupid.

I have seen this described as Bumble "making a defense of Clear Sky." I will leave it up to you, the reader, to determine if this sounds like Bumble is trying to say he's not guilty of hurting her or if it's the sort of infamous self-blame that domestic violence victims lapse into after a furious thrashing.

When Clear Sky returns to the scene of the crime, he cuts her off while admitting he did assault Bumble, then glares at everyone to challenge a fight.

Gray Wing swoons over him like he always does.

I have heard it said, without examples, that this is normal because this happens all the time in Warrior Cats. That it's a normal thing to be standing next to a domestic abuse victim who is bleeding out and watch her murderer daring all of your friends to do something about it, and admire how brave he is. That, again, without any examples, this is just something that every character does when the Villain of the Week exists in front of them, so it's not even special that it was Gray Wing's first response.

If you believe that, I have a bridge in London to sell you.

Desperation is under all of Gray Wing's feelings which immediately follow. His voice "cracks" when he has to ask if his darling brother did this. He wants to scream when he takes his sweet time answering. He shrinks under Clear Sky's gaze, because he reads that he's "accusing him of betrayal."

But somehow, that FIRST response for him to fawn over his brother is not part of that, because in unquoted books of other arcs a hero has admired a villain?? Context doesn't exist because in some other book the same emotion was described maybe. Incredible.

No mention of how casually he brushes off this sight that makes his eyes show "guilt and horror," either. No talk of how he made a little ""joke"" about how no one greeted him nicely at a tortured woman's deathbed. Almost like he was caught red-handed and the wounds don't actually unsettle him as much as the crowd's reaction.

Even the glare-- Clear Sky is trying to get Gray Wing to do his bidding. He wants him to protect him, be his flying monkey, and control his furious people.

So at the next opportunity, Gray Wing jumps to his defense again. Second time in this exchange.

FIRST he was described as "desperate." Now he takes a deep breath and BRAVELY licks that boot.

Turtle Tail steps forward and posits the obvious truth. Clear Sky is going mad with power, doesn't care who he hurts, and is completely capable of doing something like this to Bumble. This was already done to Misty, and even earlier, Clear Sky stood by and watched as one of his minions savaged Gray Wing in a similar way.

The whoooole crowd can see this. It is Gray Wing, and Gray Wing alone, who prevents there from being any consequences for Clear Sky's actions.

He hypocritically believes that attacking Clear Sky for the murder of Bumble would make them all "no better than he is" when he had no qualms about coming to blows over the exile of Jagged Peak much earlier. "Attacking Clear Sky for Murder" is morally equivalent to "Actually Doing Murder."

This is only for Bumble though, a "foreign" woman he does not like. He did not believe this for Jagged Peak, and he will not believe it later when he watches Clear Sky strangle Rainswept Flower to death. They are worth physical consequences.

He even physically shields him.

"he stepped between Clear Sky and his own cats, not sure which of them he was trying to protect." It's Clear Sky. Bumble's life means nothing to Gray Wing, so he is trying to protect Clear Sky from the fury of the angry mob he has earned by killing her and Misty.

He CANNOT let there be any doubt. Not even from himself. His brother must be protected at all costs. To that end, he is trying to make some kind of opportunity for Clear Sky to escape accountability.

If you are "neutral" in the conflict between victims and their abuser, you have taken the side of the abuser. If you provide opportunities for a perpetrator to escape accountability, you are an enabler. If you allow a suspect to escape the scene of a crime, since every cat in these books seems to be a lawyer the minute anyone wants to react to violence, you could be charged with accessory fleeing and eluding-- a felony.

Before you try to say this is all in the noble pursuit of peace, let's not be dense.

DOTC is not committed to non-violence for any other tyrannical leader. Especially not One Eye, even believing that an underhanded ambush that breaks the terms of a duel Clear Sky set is the good and righteous thing to do. Killing him was the correct action, as it was with Slash in Riverstar's Home. Outside of DOTC this logic is casually applied to Brokenstar, Tigerstar, Scourge, Hawkfrost, Darktail, and Ashfur-- with only Leopardstar and Blackstar being "exempt" for following an evil ringleader.

Gray Wing himself has no moral dilemma about One Eye or Slash, either. Nonviolence is not his goal.

It is Clear Sky, and Clear Sky alone, who the narrative of DOTC will conclude "deserved" a million second chances. That torturing Bumble to death, slaughtering Misty for her land, and countless offscreen cases of attacking natives didn't push him past the "fundamentally evil" threshold into an irredeemable monster, as is the case with Slash and One Eye later in this arc.

The difference between Clear Sky and DOTC's other two tyrants, to me, is obvious. Clear Sky is the POV's brother and a member of the in-group of The Settlers. The lives of his victims, as mostly "foreigners" and entirely women, are worth very little to the notoriously xenophobic and misogynist writing team.

If the moor cats had shredded Clear Sky right here and now, dozens of lives would have been saved. The First Battle wouldn't have happened. Justice would have been served for Bumble, regardless of if the cause of death was 2nd degree murder or negligent homicide. He wouldn't have smacked and beaten any of his other victims.

Gray Wing prevents this, giving Clear Sky an opportunity to tell a lie.

(He even whines about the idea of Wind Runner challenging Clear Sky about boundaries, the whole thing that started this incident in the first place. This is the perfect time to start arguing about boundaries, actually, when he's in the middle of establishing new ones.)

In the past, I'd been too charitable to this exchange. This lie is obscene and anyone who believes it is ignorant. No frills, no bells, you either can't think critically or just didn't want to so Clear Sky can be innocent or Gray Wing can seem "reasonable."

Clear Sky's visibly eager to start his story, "glad of the chance" now that he's had time to concoct a story. He could have explained earlier but didn't, sizing the group up and glaring at his brother to crack a whip, asking if they believed he was capable of it, so he could gauge what he can get away with.

"New part of my territory" = Freshly annexed land he has violently conquered, confirming the patrol's fears of expansion.

"I wanted to give her a warning, just a little cuff" = No one leaves his territory gently. Confirmation he thrashed her, downplay of how severe.

"How was I to know she would faint?" = Bumble is visibly emaciated, and he's blaming her for not being able to stay conscious through the whole beating.

"I could see her paws twitching, and I knew she would come around" = He would not care, Misty's body was unburied for two days.

"So I left" = Leaving Count: 1

Pauses, wincing, because this is another act. Every time he's putting on a little show for other cats, he takes dramatic pauses and plays up his pain and regret. Seen earlier in this book.

"But heard a fox bark" = no barking was heard by the patrol, only a cat's shriek.

"And ran back" = Was apparently so close that he could hear barking the patrol didn't, but so far away that a fox had time to cut her to ribbons, AND this was so long ago the patrol wasn't close enough to hear the fight? Returning Count: 2

"But I was too late" = Wounds inconsistent with fox attack. Leaving Count: 2

"I was going to get help" = There is no medic in proto-SkyClan. When Jagged Peak broke his leg, they had to borrow Dappled Pelt. What help? Who?? Even as he says this, Frost's wound is going completely untreated. If Clear Sky was going to get help, why wasn't he telling Cloud Spots to do something when he got back?

"But then I heard you all arrive" = He left to get help but was still close enough to hear running? Just abandoning his noble quest to get that "help" he apparently has? Returning Count: 3

Not a single part of his story adds up. EVERY aspect of it has a problem, in that it's either deceptively worded to downplay his abuse, doesn't line up with who he is, or just doesn't make logistical sense.

It's not JUST a lie, it's a BAD one.

Even worse, Clear Sky is a known liar at this point. He does this when the truth would not benefit him, like earlier in this book when he fibbed to Thunder about why he abandoned him right in front of Gray Wing's face. The story doesn't make sense and there's not even any reason to give him benefit of the doubt, because he is known to be dishonest.

He's offended when Turtle Tail calls him on being full of baloney, and once again shoots a sharp look over to his flying monkey, expecting Gray Wing to dance on command and defend his honor like always.

But Gray Wing seems to be perfectly capable of being "wise" when it would directly benefit Clear Sky.

I have seen the question begged, "if he's such a bootlicker then why he no verbally bootlick a third time in a single exchange?" and I would tell that person to read the text because it says why. Right there. Here, I've underlined it. So you don't miss it again.

If Gray Wing licks that boot again, THIRD TIME, in front of an angry mob who wants to skin Clear Sky alive, they will lose patience and make the clearing look like Bruce's Eating Dome. So he shuts the fuck up and gives his ungrateful brother the chance to indignantly slip away, even though he desperately wants to cry out and tell him how shiny and lickable those boots are.

"What can I say?" Nothing. "I'll only make things worse" Correct. "If I don't let him leave now there will be a fight" im literally just quoting the text verbatim

He is NOT doing this because he does not believe him, NOR because he doesn't want to defend him. It's because this the best way to protect his brother from consequence.

And then Bumble uses her dying breath to apologize for ever hurting her friend, showing Bumble is still just blaming herself for everything, with Turtle Tail still repeating the same malicious excuses that were used to deny her asylum from domestic abuse.

"I wish you could have found happiness, even though I was unwilling to help you. It sucked to learn that our shared wifebeater started wifebeating you, but we didn't want you in our camp so really this was unavoidable."

I've voiced my ire before, gone on long rants about how angry this exchange makes me and even campaigned for more recognition of the misogyny in this subplot. The fact that the last words Bumble hears are just more excuses from a person who could have done something disgust me, and I think I'm right to feel that it's vile that this sits unexamined in a book for young readers. But it doesn't change what happened.

She senselessly died in intense pain and despair, for the crime of existing. All that's left to say is that I wish Bumble could have found a better friend.

But ultimately, Turtle Tail is another woman in the notoriously misogynistic arc of DOTC. She's just a supporting character for Gray Wing's conflict, and he's got some opinions about what, exactly, is making this so sad.

He doesn't give a fuck that this woman he hates has been murdered after slowly starving to death, for months, since he watched her be dragged back to a domestic abuser. She "stole" his romantic interest for a few months, after all.

It's stressed he "never especially liked Bumble" at her deathbed. It's not JUST "the death of a kittypet," a group of people he is bigoted against. It's about his piece of shit brother.

It's about how HIS REPUTATION HAS BEEN TARNISHED.

"It changes the way my cats think of Clear Sky," THAT HE IS NOW A KNOWN MURDERER, "and that changes everything" IT'S GOING TO BE A LOT HARDER TO DEFEND HIM NOW

This is completely consistent with Gray Wing's behavior into the rest of the chapter, and even the books beyond.

The Immediate Response

Gray Wing explains what happened to the other moor cats. He has to hide his actual belief that Clear Sky didn't actually do anything wrong so that the moor cats don't dismiss him for the biased, brother-obsessed little minion he is. He admits how he really feels about Bumble's death to Turtle Tail at the very end of the chapter-- so what he says here is a lie.

Not a delusion. A lie. He withheld the full truth of his bias when questioned. If he's honest about his conflict of interest, this group will trust his judgement less. He has a goal; to prevent his cats from retaliating.

Wind Runner is, again, the one who is rallying the other cats into action. She's seeing that Clear Sky is murdering innocent cats, possibly even her friend considering how much she knew about Misty, and that this will only escalate. Gray Wing doesn't like that.

So when Tall Shadow starts suggesting the things he agrees with, like how Bumble's life was less valuable anyway so this is no reason to start a fight with his Dear Sweet Brother, and they should all just sit on their butts until no one's angry anymore, he decides she "deserves" his support.

It's a political move.

"After all, she was only a kittypet... omg why are you so mad?? I didnt mean it like that, all im saying is that we should just calm down ugh dont be so sensitive" -Tall Shadow, channeling your racist aunt

If Gray Wing can get the other cats to waste their time on useless half-measures, like more patrols or perhaps writing a strongly-worded letter, he can make them feel like they're doing something when they're actually doing jack shit. Wittingly or unwittingly, this is a measure to stall the inevitable, making them miss their chance to strike while the iron is hot.

He's either an idiot or he's subconsciously acting from a place of loyalty to his brother. Bias resembles the former but is born of the latter, and either way the result is the same.

After this, there's a brief conversation where Tall Shadow makes it clear that there is absolutely no reason to be mistrusting Wind Runner. They both agree "when this is all over" she's a good cat to have around-- they just don't seem want to listen to her now, when she wants something done about the sadistic lunatic next door.

Gray Wing's talk of "working together" is laughable. His idea of "working together" includes the cat who just slaughtered two people for existing on his newly annexed land, who long ago stopped listening to reason. Tall Shadow herself starts preening and announces that her response to all this is that Clear Sky must absolutely be stopped by some cat.......................... so she'll think abt it.

tomorrow maybe. we'll put a pin in it. set a little reminder on her phone or something.

(the genius plan she comes up with in the end is a nonsequitor babble about how rocks don't exist to be sat on, so clear sky should just stop conquering all the land or something. he listens intently and then throws her into a tank of piranhas.)

But anyway, it's time to smooth things over with Turtle Tail, who had been struggling with that uncomfortable truth that the moor cats, and Gray Wing specifically, were also culpable in some way for the slow, painful death of Bumble.

He'll fix that with a big display of affection.

"Don't be mad at me it's nobody's fault :) She wouldn't have been able to cope so it's inevitable she wound up dead :) I'm sorry you're hurting bc i like you, not that i give a damn that your friend was shoved into a blender and shredded alive after starving for months :) Thanks to you I am now ready to lead this clan directly off the side of a cliff." -very endearing conversation i assure you

It works because Turtle Tail is not allowed to maintain her own opinions as a girl in DOTC. Obviously. Her husband licks her ears and tells her that he likes her and that's the end of any examination that they have any responsibility here. god forbid she re-examine her feelings towards the writers' favorite in light of how much of an ass he made of himself at her friend's deathbed.

Just in case it slipped your mind though, once again it is made clear that Gray Wing is reacting with leisure because he does not believe (or care) that Clear Sky killed Bumble. No, not even in the negligent homicide sense, that Clear Sky's actions allowed Bumble to die through beating her unconscious and leaving her alone in an unsafe location. He does not think this was something to blame Clear Sky for.

He believes that the fox did it-- he was lying earlier when he said he "didn't know what to believe." He does. He didn't reveal his bias when he was being questioned, because he wants to prevent the moor cats from fighting Clear Sky over Bumble's death.

Also note the sneaky little turn of language Gray Wing makes there. In denial of Turt's claim that "innocent cats are being slaughtered," Gray's counter is Bumble alone before the pivot. The patrol was originally about Misty's murder and her missing kittens as Clear Sky expanded his borders-- but Misty's apparently not an "innocent cat" who's been slaughtered. She's absent from that category, implied to be part of Clear Sky's hypothetical "good reason" for expansion that Gray Wing needs to get to the bottom of.

Bumble's murder is denied. Misty's is implied to just be collateral damage for the unknown plan. He's unbothered about the death of either one.

Gray Wing: "No one else can get to the bottom of this! theres only ME! I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN STOP CLEAR SKY"

Also Gray Wing: (leaps in front of an angry crowd to defend his brother. cries that he doesn't believe hes capable of such terrible violence. actively prevents anyone else from doing anything about him)

Anyone with a vague awareness of DOTC knows how this ends. Gray Wing is going to lead them astray with his bad judgement, so purposefully delusional about his brother that they will have to dig a mass grave at Fourtrees. Gray Wing thinks he's a *~special boy~* who is the only one who can truly get through to his brother, and maybe he is, but not before dozens of people have to suffer and die for it.

This is enabling. To enable is to directly or indirectly support another's harmful actions, such as addiction or abuse. He did it here, both during and after Bumble's death, giving Clear Sky the cover to escape consequences for his actions and halting any attempts to do anything concrete. Because of him, Clear Sky never pays for what he did to her.

In the book 3, Clear Sky denies all wrongdoing, and in Bumble's last mention in book 4, her torture is described in passive voice. A terrible "happening" which seemingly couldn't have been avoided. No one is held accountable. Not the moor cats for turning her away, not Clear Sky for her killing, and even Tom the Wifebeater is redeemed after being given a chance to live in a clan for not being "soft" like his female victim.

All so sweet, beloved little Gray Wing never has to confront that he let a killer get off scot-free because the uncomplicated childhood memory of his brother as a lovely good boy was wrong. That he was so consumed by spite that he smugly watched Bumble get dragged away from the only people who could have helped her. That he was complicit twice.

Incredible suggestions that I have had to read with my own eyes

fucking ✨Bonus Round✨

"If clear sky fought bumble, why bumble leave no scratches?" I'll let you sit there and think about why the DOMESTIC ABUSE VICTIM did not fight back against a large, violent man who was beating her. I'll give you a minute. I'll play some jeopardy music.

"he's quote 'horrified and guilty' at the wounds which means he didn't make them himself" Clear Sky has a repeated habit of "blacking out" when he butchers women (Rainswept Flower, Willow Tail). He's also a liar and an actor, even according to his own account he'd seen these same wounds before when he came back a second time. Most importantly, what fucking part of "horrified and guilty" implies he didn't make those himself, does a toddler not look "horrified and guilty" when it spills chocolate milk on a couch and its parent sees it? Does that mean the toddler didn't do it? If you wouldn't accept this logic for a toddler why the fuck will you accept it for a suspected murderer?

"Maybe Clear Sky fought the fox off?" He doesn't actually say that, it's just implied during his lie when he says he showed up too late, but it's hypothetically possible. Even if he did fight this fox off, he must have still mauled Bumble because she is covered in claw wounds, even if he doesn't remember it because he "blacked out." There's also still the problems of Bumble being in the middle of the trampled grass, the patrol not hearing the sound of battle, his framing that he just tapped her and she passed out, and him apparently running to get help he does not have. Occam's Razor still suggests the solution is that this fox was scared off when Bumble screamed, with Clear Sky just using the convenient smell to lie his way out of consequences

"How'd Clear Sky get fox scent on him?" Probably from showing up to the crime scene that absolutely reeks and prowling around like an axe murderer, which we saw him do. Bumble had no fox bites and no one heard a fight. did you know that if you stand in a sewer you smell like shit

"Gray Wing just doesn't want to think his dear sweet brother could ever do such a thing :("

"What if the Erins are just so incompetent that they created a crime scene completely inconsistent with the very true and real story that Clear Sky told, it just happens to look like a lie on accident, they unwittingly made him a liar earlier in this book because they forgot the events they previously wrote, and don't know anything about a type of predator that appears in nearly every entry of warrior cats and happens to be one of the most popular animals of all time" what if i tripped and fell and a shawarma with extra tahini sauce fell into my mouth, followed by an apple slice, and 3 litres of water. should i continue my fast or has Allah fed me.

All of this is why I am adamant on saying that Clear Sky killed Bumble by beating her to death. In order for this to have been the cause of a fox, you'd have to take a liar at face value and ignore every other detail. That's what Gray Wing does, described on the page as "desperate to believe in his brother's innocence."

Unfortunately, this will also not be the only time that Gray Wing's obsession with his brother and shockingly horrific judgement will put other cats in danger or get them killed. It's just the most deliberate example, and thus imo the most upsetting.

#warrior cats analysis #Bumble #Bumble wc #Dotc analysis #dawn of the clans #dotc hate #clear sky #skystar #gray wing #dotc #Justice for Bumble #Bumble dotc #Gray Wing The Wise

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zoobus · 6 months ago

Note

What's your favourite entry on mangadex with a 6.xx score?

(Re: #Everything on mangadex with a 6.xx rating is either a powerful contender for best of the year or extremely niche fetish softcore)

Ugh, this is a hard one because I haven't been reading a lot lately and I lost a huge chunk of my saves after mangadex was killed off for some months. (Also because I don't actually finish anything I read, lots of my "favorites" are a first volume I loved so much I couldn't finish it. That's how my brain works. I haven't finished anything on this list.) Also best of the year *for the kind of story it's telling.

TW, a good chunk of these have sexual assault and/or skeevy sexual themes

Manga about girl with strong signs of BPD using sex to self-harm, I don't remember the name, sorry - Extremely pathetic girl, desperate to not get bullied ever again, thinks she can fool her peers into thinking she's one of them but nahhh, you see the looks the popular girls give each other - it's like cats watching a wet and whimpering mouse wearing cat ears bite the throat of other mice, looking over her shoulder for proof that this is worth it, that they think she's a cat too. Made me understand how self-harm sex works.

I Would Die for Your First Time - Okay, it's sitting at a 7.09 *now,* but when I read it like five years ago it at 6.18. Guy who looks like a stereotypical fat faceless hentai man marries so far out of his league, it causes him immense distress. Even though his super hot wife clearly loves him, he's unnerved by the fact that she's had so many partners before him, while he only had her. She swears that if she could go back in time, she would make him her first and oh wow is that literally the worst thing she could have said.

Because he does go back in time, and he does try to hold the assurances of his 30yo wife to her 15yo self who doesn't have a clue who he is, and he does find himself ruining the life (and the original timeline they shared) of the poor woman who made the mistake of loving him over and over and over again.

Tamarowa/Who Wants to Marry a Billionaire? - I both get and don't get the hate for this one, harem stuff seems to make people very mad. Anyway, Tamarowa is like if Danganronpa was about Who Wants to Marry A Billionaire, uncut HBO version. And if Danganronpa was good. Great example of horny and good story. Whenever some cornball suggests good writing and fetishistic, hand in pants writing are mutually exclusive, I think of Tamarowa. "I need you to psychoanalyze one of the contestants in my place. Go do ageplay with the milf and deduce the odds she's trying to murder me."

His Favorite Idol Moved Next Door - A fan has a crush on his idol. The idol has a merciless and cruel crush on him back. 6.02 because god forbid we cater to actual female sadists rather than masochists for once 🙄

The Villainess Wants To Punish The Sadistic Prince - I will probably get around to translating the final volume. One day. Please see first paragraph about loving things so much, I don't finish them.

By the way, it might be my pride speaking, but I wouldn't include the last two entries in the niche fetishcore category. That's more for like "my childhood friend is annoying! and also keeps getting splattered with smushed bug goo every chapter" or those collection of pics titled stuff like "The women in your life flirt with you while insulting your gf's small boobs"

#I never one favorite #you will never get a singular fave from me #recommendations

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ponstermenis-writing · 3 months ago

Text

✩GETTING CAUGHT✩

johnny cade/curly shepard tim shepard / dallas winston

Tim loved Angela to bits, he truly did. But Jesus Christ she had not left the house in a week and it was actually going to kill him.

Darrel still wasn’t letting Dallas in the house on his own—he didn’t quite like him talking to the gang either. So now Tim still had the guy on his tail, but couldn’t do anything because his sister was always home. So, on a last ditch effort, he decides they’ll find somewhere else.

“Let’s go on a walk.” He says, tapping on Dallas’s shoulder. Dallas looked up from the couch—where he was no doubt flirting with Tim’s younger sister, the bastard—and gave him a weird look. They weren’t the ‘going on walks’ type.

”Huh?” He asks, looking at him like he’d grown two heads. Tim gritted his teeth, taking him by the jacket sleeve and dragging him off the couch. “We’re going on a walk.” He bites out, forcing the man out of the front door, yelling for Angela to lock it behind them.

They walked silently for a few moments—until, of course, Dallas had to open his big fat stupid ugly mouth.

“What the hell was that?” He asks, nudging him lightly.

“I need out of that house.” Tim sighs. “Usually Angela isn’t home for more than an hour. And now she’s here all the time because your girlfriend decided she was bored of her.” Tim groans loudly, enough so that a few alley cats come out to see what the commotion is. Dallas wastes no time in chasing them off.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard more complaints about my hygiene. God forbid there’s a single shirt on the floor.” Tim continues his complaints, not even sure if Dallas is listening. More often than not, he isn’t. “Usually she’s always on Curly’s tail. But now he’s never at home.”

“Maybe you should try bein’ cleaner.” Dallas shrugs. “Lord knows you need a few more showers.”

Tim turns to glare at him—sadly they were too far into the public eye to smack him. “Oh please, you take a single shower a month. There’s probably cheese growing on you dick, you nasty—“

”Wanna help me get it off?” Dallas interrupts, raising his eyebrows in at attempt to be endearing. He very much isn’t. Tim grimaces, walking faster just to get away from him. He spares a glance around, making sure nobody heard him.

Dallas catches up quickly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder—to any onlooker they’d seem like pals at best. Even if it wasn’t sodomy, Tim Shepard would never be caught hanging off of Dallas Winston like a broad.

“We outta get somewhere more private.” Dallas whispers, glancing around. “There’s been a lotta’ Soc’s runnin’ around our side of town lately.”

“Good.” Tim all but snarls, thumbing the switchblade in his back pocket. “I’m itching for a fight. ‘S been much too long, don’t you think?”

Usually, when either of them wanted a brawl they’d head out to the east side and beat the life out of each other. As of recently it’s just felt wrong to do—like they’ve gotten to close, their relationship is somehow more than just beating on each-other and stealing booze. Tim doesn’t know how he feels about it, he’d rather not look it in the face.

“Can’t.” Dallas mutters, pulling his arm off and shoving both hands in his pockets. “I gotta stay clean for the next couple a’ weeks. Darry still hasn’t let me back in and John’s worried he never will.” Tim can tell he’s upset—he’s probably waiting for Tim to ask about it—but he is no man’s solace, especially not Dal’s.

“Please,” Tim scoffs. “He’ll do anything if Cade begs him enough. You all bend at his will.”

It’s true, he knows it is. Dallas is the best example. When a kid like that has been denied so much, you don’t wanna deny him anything more. As much as people explained Dallas as Johnny’s keeper, Tim knew well enough to know it goes both ways. He found it funny—A little guy like Johnny having the ability to boss around a thousand pounds of man, but not doing it just because he didn’t feel like it.

“Do not.” Dallas frowns. “Darry’ll only listen if the whole gang begs ‘im. I already pissed Steve and Two off earlier this week, and Pony’s been on a hating streak since he met me.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Tim teases, pushing past him. He’s sure Dallas rolls his eyes from behind him. “Whatever, you love having me around.” Dallas pokes and prods right back, he always does.

“Nawh.” Tim spares a glance back at him, Dallas raising a brow—he does that a lot now that Two-Bit taught him, he thinks it makes him look tuff. Tim thinks he looks constipated. “I like the beer you bring around, though. You got any?”

Dallas rolls his eyes, making two bottles clink from under his jacket. “Course I do. ‘Was waiting for you to ask.”

“Well? Hand me one.” Tim puts out his hand, Dallas pushes it away. “Did you hear anything I just said? I gotta look squeaky clean.”

Tim groans. The two push their way into the old car lot, it’s covered in trees and goes right into a deep forest where no one would find them. It’s not the best—its already freezing cold out as they get into the later months, the ground it wet and squishy from a recent rainstorm—but it’ll do.

Tim actually finds himself looking around to see if little Johnny Cade is spending the night outside again. He wasn’t sure when he started caring about what happened to him—sure, he’s a good kid, but he’s none of Tim’s responsibility. It must’ve been sometime between Dallas getting out of the cooler and seeing his dad chase him out with a hammer.

Angela lovingly called them ‘reluctant co-parents’. Tim and Dallas cared for their own like it was second nature—eventually they started caring for the other’s. Tim would make sure Johnny wasn’t rotting away outside and Dallas would make sure Curly didn’t sneak out for the sixth time that week.

It was weird but nobody ever brought it up. Johnny gave him weird looks when he drove him to Buck’s, and Curly was no doubt suspicious of them. But oddly enough neither of the younger boys seemed to care. Johnny spent more time at the Shepards and Curly finally started warming up to Dallas—they were about as warm to each-other as a winter in the Antarctic, but it’s as better than nothing.

They walked into the deep forest, blinking a few times to get used to the darkness. Very soon the two wished they didn’t go—while the beer helped, their wet shoes and the sound of clay squeaking beneath them got old very quickly. Tim was sure the bottoms of both of their jeans were soaked and dirty, but neither of them seemed to care.

“Tim, Look.” Dallas said finally, nudging him. Tim looked up from his bottle, squinting at something in the trees. Sure enough, a dingy little treehouse was nestled on a thick one, a long rope ladder swinging from it. The two shared a look.

Going into a seemingly abandoned tree house in the dead of night was most definitely not a good idea. But they were wet and cold, a little tipsy, and curious. Against their better judgement the two took slow steps forward—it wasn’t long before they could hear voices coming from inside.

“We should go.” Tim said, even as Dallas took hold of the ladder and tugged to see if it was secure. “This is probably some fucked up midget trap house.”

Dallas looked back at him and laughed. “You scared?” He asked teasingly, slowly climbing up. Tim didn’t say anything, but soon enough they were both clinging to the wet rope with a scowl— trying to climb as quietly as possible.

Luckily, there was a little porch that they could both climb onto—The treehouse has one tiny door and a window that was so dirty they had to squint to see through it. There was a light coming from inside, one that Dallas quickly investigated.

Dallas froze up the second he looked inside, wide mouthed with furrowed brows. He looked like he had just seen a ghost, eyes flitting around the room in wide-eyed shocked. “What?” Tim whispered, pulling himself onto the porch. Dallas didn’t respond—he glanced down at him, taking a step back so he could also stand.

Tim cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in—also rather shocked with what he saw.

…

”You’re such a momma’s boy.”

“Yeah? Atleast I have one.”

“I’d much rather have none at all than one that beats on me.”

A low blow, but then again the two were known for it. It was weird how the could make jokes about each other that no one else could. It was somehow less offensive when it came from the other.

Johnny and Curly were, once again, lighting up in their dingy little tree house. They huddled up together under Curly’s stupid leather jacket for warmth—Johnny had left his at his folk’s place and he wasn’t dumb enough to go get it. Johnny had his legs atop Curly’s, the two leaning into each other and nursing the second blunt of the night.

“Do you listen to a thing I tell you? She doesn’t beat on me.”

“She yells at you all the time and chases you out of the house.”

”That’s different.” Johnny frowned, not looking up at him.

”Didn't she lock you in a cupboard when you were little cus’ she caught you stealing bread?” Curly raised a brow, handing the weed back to him. Johnny didn’t take it, looking at him weird. “How do you know about that?” He asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“You told me. Like, last week. You were so high of your rocker you probably don’t even remember.” Curly laughed. Johnny deflated, finally taking the blunt and sucking in a long drag before blowing it back out in his face. “I gotta stop getting high with you. You know too much.”

”So do you. You know more about me than my own brother.” Johnny makes a weird noise, Curly elects to ignore it.

“Whatever.” He mutters, leaning slightly off of him. “But my mom doesn’t beat on me, that’s different.”

Curly just rolls his eyes, glancing down at him. “Whatever you say, Hansel.” He laughs so hard at his own joke he coughs, Johnny staring at him like he’s crazy. “Han—Who?”

”From Hansel and Gretel? That old children’s book about teaching kids to not steal.” The explanation doesn’t seem to help, Johnny looking more and more confused by the second. “You seriously never had to read that?” Curly asked incredulously. He remembered it only because Angela got so scared that she wouldn’t eat at restaurants for a year in fear that she would eat a witches food.

Fun times.

“Who’s gonna read it to me Curly? My mom?”

“…Fair enough.” He mutters, snatching the blunt from him in an attempt to busy his hands. They are quiet for a long while—Curly nurses the weed the whole time, it’s a miracle he didn’t choke. Johnny eventually gets tired of it, reaching over to try and pluck it from his mouth. Curly grabs it quickly, licking his fingers before he can pull back. Johnny makes a loud gagging sound, pulling away like it burnt him.

“You are such a freak!” He yelled, rubbing his hand in the boy’s shirt. “You’re gonna be on death row one day, mark my words.”

Curly leans in to him, smirking as he blows smoke into his face. “Nawh, I don’t believe in that.” He says—he’s just messing with him, but Johnny raises a brow and he feels like he has to keep talking. “I’m this close to becoming one of those hippies who go on strike for everything.”

”Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going on a toothpaste strike too?” Johnny asks, looking down at Curly’s mouth. Curly pulled back, rolling his eyes. “Ha-fucking-ha. You’re hilarious.” He muttered in annoyance, trying to discreetly check his breath. Johnny just laughed, leaning back into him. “ ‘M just messing wit’ you. But yeah, I am hilarious, aren’t I?”

“I wasn’t—“

The door bursts open a moment later, swinging on its hinges. The two quickly turn their heads to face it. Curly doesn’t even realize who it is until Johnny yells.

“Dallas! What—“ He cuts himself off, pushing off of Curly.

They are both acutely aware that Dallas had no clue either of them were smoking weed. Especially not together.

Shit.

This is where he dies, isn’t it?

Dallas takes Curly by the lapels, lifting him up off the ground. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You little—“ Tim quickly pulls him away, Curly hitting the ground with a thump. “Watch what you say.” Tim bites, barely loud enough for the two younger boys to hear.

”I’m sorry Dal, I—“ Johnny begins, trying to pull himself to his feet—probably to run. Tim holds him down, somehow being the level-headed one here. “I know you told me not to! I just—“ Johnny practically smacked Tim’s hand away in favor of pleading with Dallas.

Dallas freezes, interrupting him. “Told you not to? What?” He asks, incredulously. He and Tim share a look. He couldn’t remember ever telling Johnny not to—it’d be kind of hypocritical, seeing what he and Tim get up to.

“You told me not to—not to get high! Didn’t you?” Johnny asked, just as confused as he was. Curly and Johnny watch Tim and Dallas stare at each other. They both look at the younger boys, then to the blunt fizzling out on the ground, then back to them. Dallas breathes out a sigh that could only be in relief, practically collapsing to the ground.

“Oh, Thank god!“ He cries, putting his hand in a prayer motion. Johnny and Curly shared confused look, trying to understand what was going on. “Oh…” Tim mutters, looking between the two.

“You guys aren’t mad?” Johnny asked, furrowing his brows in an attempt to pick out what exactly is happening to Dallas. “Oh, no, I’m livid.” Dallas says, glaring at Curly. Tim kicks him lightly, hard enough to make Dallas finally stand back up.

“It’s just, we thought you were—“ Tim cuts himself off, seeing his younger brother’s red face. ‘Are you??’ He mouthed incredulously, Curly not responding.

Culry and Johnny share one more look before seemingly figuring it out—both of their faces burn red, immediately turning back to their older counterpart.

“You thought we were fucking?!” Curly yells, looking incredulously at his older brother.

Sure, they experimented—once or twice… but it wasn’t a set in place thing. They were both so high every time they did it that they barely remembered. Or maybe neither of them wanted to. They ever talked about it after it happened—not the first time, not the second time, not any of the times after that.

“Ew, Dal! You thought…?” Johnny frowns, kicking Dal lightly. Dallas shrugged, he and Tim were just as embarrassed as they were. “What was I supposed to think? You run off for hours at a time together, you come back wearing his jacket—“

“Wait—I didn’t know that.” Tim interrupted, raising his brows at his younger brother.

“I can’t believe you think that low of me! I’d never—gross!” Johnny rambled, seemingly losing half of his respect for Dallas. If he weren’t also roped into this, Curly would love it.

“Hey! I’m right here!” Curly frowned, glaring at the boy. Johnny glared right back. “So? Back up of you don't want to hear it.” He bites back, uncharacteristically sharp—at least, to Tim and Dallas. Curly was used to it. “You sure didn’t want me to back up when I—“

Johnny shut Curly up with a loud smack, sending the two into a long bickering match.

Tim and Dallas watched silently, sharing a knowing look. Sure, they didn’t beat each other like they did—but they certainly weren’t kind. “Jesus…” Dallas muttered, watching them. “They really are just like us.” He laughs, Tim agreeing alongside him.

That pulled both of the younger boys off of each other, once again staring at their older counterparts.

“Shut it, Macklemore! We are not!” Curly yells first, Johnny nodding in agreement. Dallas frowns, glaring down at him. “You little—“ Dallas begins, getting a smack on the back of the head by Tim. Tim holds Dallas back, giving everyone a moment to think and collect their bearings. Johnny and Curly share a petrified look—Tim bets they realized just how similar the four of them are.

Dallas doesn’t let them think about it much longer, circling back around to the reason they were here.

”You’ve been smoking weed?!” He yells, pulling Tim off of him and running up to Johnny. It’s not his turn to get grabbed by the front of his shirt—though he’s much gentler with Johnny. “With Curly Shepard off all people?!” He adds, making Johnny deflate a little. Tim sees it, placing a hand on Dallas’s shoulder, oddly pliant.

“Hey, at least they weren’t…” he trails off. Usually he has no problem saying it—Sex isn’t something to be weird about, especially not when you’re a Shepard. But it felt weird saying it now, hanging awkwardly off of his tongue.

“Stop saying it!“ Johnny yells—his cheeks are burning, trying not to look at anyone else in the room. Dallas let’s him go softly, turning back to Tim.

“Why are you so calm about this? I feel like I’m the only one yelling!” Dallas whispers to him. Tim glances back at the two, grimacing. “Who do you think he got the weed from? Besides, I already knew.” He replies, trying to sound casual. Which was, decidedly, the wrong move.

“You knew?! Why didn’t you tell me?“ Dallas yelled, grabbing him by the shoulders. Tim lightly shoved him off, eyeing the door. The two step out onto the porch, leaving too very confused boys in their wake.

“I didn’t tell you because this is exactly how I knew you’d react! You’re scaring that poor boy shitless!” Tim whisper-yells. He doubted the two were sitting obediently inside—Sure enough, when he glanced at the window behind Dallas’s head he could see the two whisper to eachother.

“Why do you care? You said it yourself, Johnny is my responsibility. Not yours.” He says, pausing to glare at him. “I’ll make sure he’s okay how I see fit. You can worry about yourself.”

Tim sucked in a sharp breath. He really was hoping this wouldn’t be a topic the two of them ever touched on. So he did what he did best, deflect the blame.

“Yeah? Lord knows you aren’t doing a good job at it! He’s terrified of you!” He bites back, crossing his arms and straightening his back. He and Dallas are almost the exact same height—it’s hard to loom over him, which just so happens to be his only intimidation tactic other than beating.

“And Curly isn’t?”

Tim stops yelling to stare at him, brows furrowing.

“Curly and Johnny aren’t the same.” Tim replies defensively. “Johnny gets enough yelling at home—“

”So does Curly.” Dallas interrupts. He knows he’s found Tim’s weak spot. And like always, he was going to keep poking and prodding at it. “Don’t throw stones in a glass house, asshole. At least Johnny likes me. Curly stays cus’ he has no where else to go.”

”He likes that you don’t hurt him. You said it yourself, he’ll do anything for your attention.” Tim bites back.

Dallas scoffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re getting off topic.” He mutters. “Johnny and Curly have been swapping smoke for months, and you’d better not make me the bad guy for yelling at him.”

Jesus, they really do sound like a married couple.

“You act like we weren’t doing the same thing at their age.” He knows how dumb that sounds—he and Dallas are both only two years older than one of them. That wasn’t too long ago—the only thing that’s changed in the substance.

“Yeah? And look where that got us.”

“You’re a dick.”

”So are you.”

…

“Somehow I feel like we’re the ones who walking on something.” Curly mutters.

The two watched through the window as they went from bickering to shouting once again, Johnny covering his ears as he watched. Curly spares a glance his way, frowning.

“We outta get out of here before we get dragged into it.” He says, nudging him.

It’s an escape masked as an offer—a helping hand amidst the yelling and fighting that they are both so achingly used to.

“Okay.” Johnny mutters, letting the other help him to his feet. They try to sneak past—the older boys are too busy fighting to notice. Dallas has his back to the door and Tim is staring right back into his eyes. Unluckily for the youngest two—Tim spares a glance at the door just as they are leaving, making direct eye contact with Johnny.

He tries to angrily signal for the two to get back inside, hopefully before Dallas notices. That plan is foiled when Dallas immediately noticed his weird expression and spins around.

“Where the hell do you two think you’re going?” He asks angrily, causing Curly to stop halfway on the ladder.

He could run. He could drop down and run all the way home, Tim wouldn’t even be pissed. But leaving Johnny alone with an angry Tim and an even angrier Dallas didn’t sound like a good idea.

“Get your asses back inside.” Tim and Dallas say in unison—they don’t even seem to notice it. Curly spares a glance back at Johnny, whose prettified gaze in staring at Dallas and only Dallas. He lets out a sigh and begins climbing back up.

“C’mon John.” He mutters, the two of them shuffling into the room and shutting the door behind them. Johnny practically collapses to the floor—it’s not common for Dallas to be mad at him. It never ended well when he was. Curly knew that too, leaning back against the door.

“They’re so angry at us they synced up.” He tried to lighten the mood—it definitely didn’t work, but Johnny smiled up at him anyways. “Maybe their cycles are next.” He says between gasping breaths. Curly let’s himself laugh, falling onto the ground beside him. Soon they are both giggling together like little girls, acutely unaware of the two just outside.

…

Dallas was still whispering angrily to him. He didn’t care to listen, it was just the same shit over and over again. He stared through the window—at first it was to make sure the two didn’t make another escape attempt, but then he was just watching them. His gaze softened, the two joining each other on the floor and laughing together.

He and Dallas were like that once. Back when they were just two asshole kids. Before humiliation and anger brought they both to a fighting stop.

“I just—what are you staring at?” Dallas asks incredulously, annoyed that Tim wasn’t listening. He didn’t respond, staring longingly through the window still. Dallas eventually looks too, his gaze softening all the same. “Oh.” He muttered.

The two boys were huddled up together again, whispering to each other like little kids. They looked so calm, happy. Like they were meant to be like that. Like the world couldn’t see them.

“Look,” Tim sighed. “I get that you don’t want Johnny smoking, I really do. But if you want them separated—you’re gonna tell ‘em.” He said with a sense of finality, uncrossing his arms. Curly looked at him through the window, frowning but not pulling away.

Tim would’ve pulled away if the roles were reversed. Curly stays holding on.

”I don’t…” Dallas muttered, leaning his forehead on the wooden frame. “I don’t want them separated, okay? Johnny seems a lot happier—I don’t wanna take that from him.” He breathed out a sigh, glancing at Tim with pleading eyes. “I just don’t want him smoking that stuff. We both started with smokes, then weed, then beer, and then…” Dallas frowned. Tim wasn’t used to seeing him sad, he was too quick to anger. “He’s got addiction in his blood. Poor kid already worried about turning out like his father.”

”Really?” Tim asks, letting himself chuckle.

“I know. I don’t see it at all, even when he’s angry.” Dallas laughs too. “Still, it’ll save a lot of heartache if he stays off. Y’dig?”

“Yeah, I dig.” Tim smiles for the first time in the last hour. “I’ll back you up, man. I don't need Curly getting any worse.” He finally says. The two share an appreciative look with each other. Dallas barely reaches for him—almost like he’s going if for a hug—but he glances back inside and quickly puts his arms back down.

Tim rolls his eyes, opting to wrap an arm around him and lead the two back inside. Johnny and Curly pull away from each other when the re-enter, looking up at them. Jesus, they really do seem scared.

“I don’t want you smoking that stuff anymore.” Dallas says first, crossing his arm. Tim drags his arm off of him, crossing his arms as well. “You either, Curly.” He adds. Johnny frowns. “But—“ he begins, shut up when Dallas holds out a hand to silence him.

“We’re not mad, okay?” He starts—Tim wants to add ‘just disappointed’ for shits and giggles, but decides this isn’t the time. “You two can still have your little spot, just no more smoking weed, okay?”

Johnny and Curly share a confused look—like they’re a shocked there’s an agreement at all.

“You’re not mad?” Curly asks, almost incredulously. Tim and Dallas look to each other and nod. “Not unless it happens again.” Dallas says—like a challenge—glaring down at Curly. Curly’s brows furrowed, looking between the two. He places a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and they both stand.

“Tim?” He says finally. “Can I talk to you?”

Tim and Curly split off to one corner of the room, Johnny and Dallas whispering to each other in the other. Curly spends a long time just staring at him, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He speaks with a sense of urgency.

”You’re not gonna tell anyone are you?”

He doesn’t say exactly what Tim would be telling, but he has an idea what he’s eluding to. “Nawh.” Tim smiles, ruffling the boys hair. Curly doesn’t even attempt to fix it, furrowing his brows again—he never did that before he and Johnny met, it was the smaller boy’s quirk, not his.

“You won’t tell anyone about the tree house, will you?” He asks, again. Tim shrugs. “I don’t see why I would.” He pauses to glare down at him. “I’ve got no reason to tell. As long as you cut back on the weed, that is. I can’t defend you two if it happens again.”

Curly smiles—in the way every Shepard boy did when they didn’t want to be caught smiling. “Thank you.” He whispered, barely loud enough for his brother to hear. Tim ruffles his hair again, glancing back to Johnny and Dallas.

The two boys were hugging—he didn’t even realize the younger was wrapped up in Curly’s too big jacket. Tim spared one glance back at his brother, grabbing his by the shoulders and pulling his close.

Hugging each other wasn’t something they did. But at that moment it felt right. It felt right even as Curly’s ringed fingers gripped his sleeves, even as he buried his face in his older brothers chest.

There was a new air of hope when they all stepped out, climbing haphazardly out of the tree house. They joked, they walked through the woods light on their feet—Dallas and Tim trailed behind, pretending it was because they didn’t know where to go. They liked seeing the younger two boys poke fun at eachother like they used to.

“Y’know.” Dallas finally spoke, quiet enough for the other two not to hear. “I’m surprised you didn’t want them separated.”

Tim raises a brow. “Why would I?” He asks, though he knows the answer.

”Seeing as we thought they were, y’know…”

Tim shrugged, bumping into him purposefully. “It’s none of my business what they do behind closed doors.” A pause. “Though if I ever hear it, I’m definitely gonna ask them to get out.”

Dallas laughed, loud enough to make the younger two glance back at them.

”Besides,” Tim begins the second they turn back around. “Johnny cooks when he’s over. I can only handle so much of Angela’s over-cooked and under-seasoned chicken.”

Dallas smiled. “Darry was the one that taught him, y’know.”

”Really?”

”Yep. He learned just so he could make me a big ol’ New Yorkian breakfast for my sixteenth birthday.” Dallas says, pride in his voice as he watched the boy. Tim smiled as well, nudging into him. “I guess I have you to thank, then.”

Dallas smirked, leaning closer to him and taking one of his lapels between two fingers—tugging him closer.

“I guess you do.”

#the outsiders #writing #johnny cade #dallas winston #curly shepard #tim shepard #tally #johnnyxcurly

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irlcats-bracket · 1 year ago

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BRACKET 2 FINALS 2: THE THIRD PLACE BATTLE

CASPER versus MR CRINKLES

CASPER

The definition of "The lights are on but nobody's home" this is in fact an extremely pretty boy and likely a subcategory of himbo. He is so friendly and yet so intimidating to strangers. A big ol baby. Bastard son of a Maine Coon, a Siamese, and a Mountain Lion. Thinks of nothing but snacks and snuggles.

PROPAGANDA

Behold! My son! Much like his father, a grumpy old man since birth despite not looking a day over 10 (What do u mean he's almost 12?!)

Big old baby who much enjoys snuggles, snacks, and escaping out onto the front patio to sit frozen on the steps until someone realizes he escaped and saves him from the big scary outside

He has also learned v well that if he tucks himself under an arm he gets to watch his dad knit/crochet

. . . . ngl I didn't expect to get this far so

more photos for the wonderful folks who voted for my dear boy

he's had a tendency to make that particular face since dental work means he had to get his top fangs removed and I find it hysterical

One last bit of propaganda just to sweeten the pot

MR CRINKLES

He is very large by genetics but also hes fat. Hes got black fur but in certain lights its brown. Hes got yellow eyes that are very large (like him). He loves cuddling and bullying submitter's other cat (sometimes and she bullies him back so its even) Hes scared of people who he doesn't know well and somehow fits himself into the tiniest of spaces. He just goes limp when submitter picks him up. He likes to play but he does it with as little effort as possible. He likes to sit by the window and make noises at the birds.

PROPAGANDA

We got him from an animal shelter, and he used to be a scrawny little thing. He loved food and would go as far as to Dive Under the legs of our other cat to get to the bowl. He used to chase birds into the house when he was younger, but as he's gotten older, he makes fewer attempts at hunting. Now he just lays around and watches the birds from the window. Hes very cuddly. He'll storm into my room (often in the middle of the night) demanding to be cuddled and pet. Hes a big cat and very fluffy. He goes limp if you pick him up and often "melts" off of furniture :3

Hiii more pawpaganda for my boy Mr. Crinkles

Today we will be highlighting his silly little relationship with his "sister" Frankie :3

We got Frankie after we got Crinkles. She was old and would hiss at him whenever he passed her, for apparently no reason. Later though, we found that he would hide behind things, and Jump Out At Her just to scare her. They fought a lot at the beginning but now they're on more stable grounds. Sometimes youll catch them sleeping on the couch together (though i dont think they want us to know they like each other)

Theyll still chase eachother around the house and frankie still hisses at his for no reason sometimes. But I think its more of a sibling thing then a real dislike :3

- Crinkles has many nicknames !! Such as, chub chub, crinky butt, stinker, meow meow, crinkle maninkle (we love making up words), handsome and so many more its stupid

-If you meow at him, he will meow back! If you meow at him enough, he will run up to you and body slam your legs

-He doesnt mind getting his nails trimmed. He will lay on his back with his head dangling over your legs and you can cut away

-He can be a bit of a stinker sometimes, sometimes biting us for no reason (softly but still, ouch!) But, if you tell him not to, or my personal favorite, "thats not nice. we dont do that", he will simply glare at you and sulk away

-If our dog walks up to him, he will groom her. Its very cute

-We have bird feeders in our windows, when he sees the birds, hell sit by the window and make little clicking noises

-Hes also just very cute and a little dumb and so you should vote for him :3

Lots more photos of him:

#polls #cat #cats #catfight two #catfight two finals!!

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fuckitwhenifeelit · 2 years ago

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Normal au, Shuri's family totally rich enough to have homes all over the world. Shuri decides to go to a modest one in Mexico to de-stress. She has never been there, it was mostly used by her great grandpa and then great grandfather after they had retired .

Its quiet, and she managed to get wifi. But she's trying to detach a little from tech to get more intune with herself outside it. Swimming and exploring the urban and path forests nearby. She hadn't met the neighbors yet, but her grandfather told her a couple funny stories about the family. And they seemed like nice people.

*one aspect of the house is weird is closed outdoor shower. But it isn't really open and has good water pressure, so Shuri didn't mind.

Until she hears what sounds like a cat toy got stepped on in shower. Looks down and sees what is clearly not a wild frog. Just chilling next to her. Enjoying the water.

"Bro, where are your owners?" Shuri after getting dressed and picking up the zen little creeping frog. Hears kids screaming nearby.

*insert hilarious name here for frogger.

And sees a 6 year old boy and a 9 year old girl scouting the forested area between the vacation house and the neighbors.

"Where are you?" *in Yucatan

"Are you looking for this guy?"

"Thank gods he's okay. He's our uncles. And we were watching him. He jumped out onto the roof and then the trees. We would have been in so much trouble if we didn't find him."

"Well, he found his way into my showers."

Shuri handed the creature to the little girl , who held the fat frog like a cat. Shuri had to not cackle at the visual. The kids loudly thanked her and ran off.

*Namor coming by to thank Shuri for helping locate his missing pet.

Shuri usually handles surprises well. She's prepared for most things. But she was not prepared answering the doorbell inn her exercise clothes to find a gorgeous Indigenous man at her door with a fruit basket.

"I came to thank you for finding my Pet for tolerating my niece and Nephews running around your property."

*bashful or at least self conscious shuri talking to Namor. Who is clearly checking her out too.

"It was nothing, they seem like good kids."

"Well your family in the past let me and my younger family run around the forests and river between the houses. "

A little light went off in Shuris mind, remembering one of her grandfather's favorite stories of the place.

"Oh my god, your the boy my grandpa said was trying to make a frog circus." Namors entire face is red , bc the embarrassing phase he had at 7 came to bite him three decades later.

*This is Shuri finding the frog again the next time the kids lose him

#submission #WDYM SHURI IN MEXICO MEETING NAMOR AND HIS NIECE AND NEPHEW #namor x shuri #nashuri #namuri #shuri #namor #wakanda forever #shuramor

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alollinglaughingcat · 1 year ago

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i have so many kittens rn its silly so i made a gallery of some (some!) of my cats' ages XD

Frito is a bottlefed kitten I just picked up today, alongside their three siblings, Cheeto, Dorito, and Lay. They're 3 weeks old

Maya is a stray kitten my mom found outside three days ago, and she's a bit older than a month old, around 5-6 weeks old

Checkers is my long-term foster kitten, whom I've had since she was 2 months old, and she's now 8 months old about. I also fostered her sister, California, for a month. Checkers had a bad reaction to fluids (or the needle was contaminated) that caused her skin to split open, and she's got a few months left of healing to go!

Mac n Cheese is my wobbly syndrome cat, whom I've had since she was 6 weeks old and I swore was still under a year but she's actually a month over at 1 year, 1 month! :O time flies!!! my baby's so fat now!

Gizmo, not pictured, is another cat I have, who's about 2 years and a half now. Very smart and knows sit, high five, and spin! :) My mom also found him as a stray, same age as Maya, and he gave all my cats (and me) ringworm lmao

Princington and Battle Axel were two cats I also had who are now deceased and they were the same age, only about a week apart, and would both be 3 and a half years by now (Prince died at 1 year, Axel at ~2)

Tweetie aka Sweetie aka Angel is a cat I've had since childhood, so I can't remember her exact age. She was born on my grandma's farm, and we took her and Tommy aka Mustard (now deceased) when they were weaned off their mom, so about the 5-6 week mark

Sheldon is another cat I have, big fatto, and my mom fostered him since he was a bottle baby and kept him because he had anger issues and she feared no one would take him and he'd get euth'ed. He's about 9-11 years, I'm not sure of when he came into the picture even though I remember him as a kitten

Shadow is our old boy, somewhere in the 14-16 year old range. His ears are all fucked cause he got something like a hematoma in them and blood burst. He's a good boy but hell at the vet, so since the ears aren't lethal/painful, we didn't do much past give him meds for infection and clean his ears. He has a sister named Macaroni who is very chill and does not look as old as Shadow does lol

Also had a cat named Princess and another named Misty before them, but only faded memories :)

I had hamsters (Digger, Gumball) and guinea pigs (Marvin, Sweetflower) previously as well, had a rabbit (Cookie Dough aka NumNum) briefly, and currently have one some-months old hamster named Buster who loves biting people, and two gerbils, Gemini aged 1 year and Mama Virgo a few months older. Gemini had a sister named Libra that previously mentioned California ate. My mom also has ducks, chickens, and guineas

and not to mention our dogs! Shaggy is like a 4 months old sheep-a-doodle, then Adrian the mini pom is like 10 years old, Rocky the Shih Tzu is 12-14 years old, and Sonny the mutt is pushing 19 years old! We previously had a pom named Destiny who died at like 15 and PP aka Penelope the German Shephard mix who died young at 10 years old because of arthritis/other conditions

its going to be so strange going from so many animals to 2-3 cats, 3 critters when i move for college lol

#random #cats #kittens #kitties #foster kittens #wobbly cat syndrome #old cats #cat ages

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aerinkate · 2 years ago

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Housebound

Isolation becomes viscous once days roll into weeks.

The dog and I had spent the first mornings poised toward the front door, as though at any moment the handle would tug down and there you’d be — smiling through a soaked hood, shaking off your umbrella before stamping your boots on the mat, “Well, that took a little longer than I expected.”

I wanted it to be homely for your return. The over-anxious welcome of the dog scratching at your shins. The comforting kiss from your wife after a long day.

But there were no late callers.

You left no instruction on dealing with the chills that accompany each morning. No instruction on how to handle the dishes when life littered with all other excesses. Nothing on how to keep the dog out of the nursery, or to stop her from knocking the empty chardonnays from the coffee table. You had mentioned how the house’s silence would drape around your shoulders, but left no instruction on coping with its persistent muttering in your ear.

Perhaps the dogs orchestrated tantrums were her way of keeping me sane.

Through my months of hibernation, I ignored the roll-in of nature through the back door. The lock is still rusted beyond any use, and I find various creatures have scuttered in on the days I manage to get downstairs. Some days, it’s birds being hounded back to open air, on others it’ll be the odd cat or squirrel. Perhaps your least favourite, the pregnant rat that the dog has yet to set her sights on.

The fridge sputters, the bulb flickering its last dregs of life. Another task abandoned to my to-do list.

Her Highness trots into the kitchen upon hearing porcelain bump the countertop. The meat beats purple, fresh from the butchers. He’d given it to me as a gesture of goodwill, I’d forgotten my purse and he knows I come in each week.

I comfort myself in the image of your frown at his kindness.

She paws at me. I embrace her desperation, slicing slower into the meat as she whines and whines… Instinct overcomes her. She jumps at my leg, only to be met with the harsh jolt of my own casting her away.

I drop the meat onto the tiles, the knife into my pocket.

Did you know that pig hearts are compatible with people? They’d managed it on a cripple with heart disease, once the pig had been modified beyond anything divine would conduct. The man lasted a few months longer, a nasty shred of hope for those waiting on transplants.

If I’d needed your heart instead, would you have shared it?

With her, I assume so. In between your moments of peace and rib-cracking ecstasy, would there still be no room left for me?

Blood drips through my fingers and the dog lurches.

I haul back, but—

She bites. What else can I do?

I curse you every day I’m stuck with this creature.

I kiss my teeth upon finding the rat's nest in the cupboard and slam the door, swearing at the dog for being beneath my feet.

The rat's fat body springs from the shelf, smacking against the tiles before fleeting through the open door, the dog slipping out behind it. A choir of artless contest ensnares as the pair wrestle in the garden, I offer no help separating them as the dog, equalled in size, catapults the rat across the patio.

For your sake, I seize the match by the collar.

“Leave it!”

She whines against me, the rat now spine curled and dark hair pointing on end. With each tug my fingers protest her strength, trapped between fleece and collar — this tiny thing, how can she cause so much pain?

Fatigue throbs through my hand, clenched too long.

She breaks her chase to look up at me. Quivering lips peel back to reveal a gruesome smile, teeth pressing through her lips like thorns from a briar. She releases another mewl and my grasp loosens, just as her contender pounces toward her—

She escapes me.

Have you ever watched joy slip through your fingers? And no matter how much you tighten your grip to save it, it keeps going?

That’s kind of what it felt like to love you in the end.

My hands are still aching.

I plan to spend the rest of the day peeling back the layers of dirt from the house. By chance I spot the rat sliver back inside, hind legs dragging.

I empty bottles of booze into the recycling, wincing at the echo of glass breaking — as piercing as the twist of your mother's lip upon hearing that we wouldn’t be having children.

“Giving up so soon?”

I doubt you’ve ever felt the weakness that accompanies having to look a self-appointed god in the eye and tell them you can no longer worship them without stuttering.

“We’ve no luck for months.” Everything about me apologises.

I hadn’t realised I’d been crying until you pulled me in. You took my face between your palms and tried to suck the nonsense right from my lips. I had forgotten how you had me chained to the rhythm of my natural countdown.

“It’s not too late,” you’d said.

Beneath the sink, the nest births the purest of wars; life versus life, or death, I can’t really tell. The rat, too worn down from the labours of motherhood, seems unable to discern that her body is being torn apart by her children. They bite and claw into her flesh, blood gushing from the wound as though tipped from a jug.

Her demise has me caught.

Life against life, life against death…

A mother, against her daughter.

I find that I’m pressing myself into the floor, its coolness as comforting as that day you found me collapsed.

Do you remember?

The blood filled the gaps between the tiles like grout. You slapped my hand away as though I’d drowned them right there in the sink.

The following week, when your mother tapped on the door with the dog in hand, you were all smiles. I saw more from you that day than I’ve ever found in our wedding photos.

The pup quaked on the kitchen tiles, your mother beaming. Pried from her own mother just that morning, you thrust the pup onto me as though to mean something more than a marker of my own failings.

“She’s yours,” you’d said, cradling us as though by cribside, “she belongs to you.”

And at the moment I held her in my arms I knew that she did belong to me, as I belong to my shame.

I knew I would fail her, too.

Aches from the long winter pull me upstairs, naming me bedbound. I barricade myself beneath the sheets and drift off to lullabies from the gutter, creaking with the weight of last summer's foliage.

Inside of sleep, I battle reels from a shocked-white mind — images of an infant’s body breaking their father’s heart and the mother, if she could even call herself that, dragged into the wolf’s den…

Did she hear weeping at the bedside?

My eyes open and she’s watching me from the doorway.

Beady and blackened beyond anything earth-born, her gaze bites. You’d said there was nothing wrong with her look, that that’s how all dogs marvel at their owners. I still disagree.

Her tongue juts through the flaps of her mouth. Placing one paw ahead of the other, she steps into our room.

A rare occurrence, she doesn’t come upstairs without you there.

And then she hops onto our bed, her movements, as ever, soaked in silence. I resist an instinct to reach out to her.

She nestles into the duvet, her contemptuous side-eye doing little to mask how her feeble little body shivers in the cold. I tuck some of the sheets around her, and she jerks as though she’s heard you come in through the front door, as though our house has flooded with warmth...

The knife pokes into my thigh like melted butter. I take it out and press it into the scruff of her neck, wondering if the moment reminded her of her mother.

Eventually, she stops squirming.

I miss the southern breeze that left with you.

— A. K. D

#creative writing #female writers #writing inspiration #writerscommunity #writblr #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writers block #short story #short stories #inspired content #writersnetwork #horror #heartbreak #lost love #longing #angst

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deepperplexity · 2 years ago

Text

Prompt: 15. Frosty Glass

Pairing: Gruber x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Small village in the English countryside

Continuation of: 14. Icy Roads

A/N: So yesterday Anna-Louise and Hans met for the first time, both seemingly instantly connecting on some other level. So, let’s see what happens today between plastic santas and a sassy old lady, shall we? 🥰💚

+A/N: AND IT'S ANOTHER BLOODY LONG ONE - WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?! 😭👍 I was hoping to have everything written for the prompts up until nr.19 today since my dad is coming over to celebrate Christmas this weekend but here I am, just having finished this one... I am terrible at containing myself and it's biting me in the ass right now 😂

Tags/TW’s: Dysfunctional Family, Self-worth Struggle, Repressed Emotions, Abandonment Issues, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Fluffy Feels, Finding One’s Courage

Word Count: 4.7k+

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

“Lulu! There’s no cookies!” dad shouted from the kitchen while I tried to dress the tree and keep sis’s blasted cat out of it simultaneously. Ferdinand was a menace on his best days, Christmas always turned into a blood bath, my hands and arms scratched up from chasing him out of the tree, out of the curtains, away from the presents — it was never-ending.

“Coming!” “Get the minty ones!” he shouted while I tried to hang the tinsel without Ferdinand getting the other end of it. “Sure thing, dad!” “Not those peppermint ones! The minty ones! The green ones!” “Oh my god,” I sighed under my breath. “Yes, dad! I KNOW!” “Oy! Don’t you take that tone with me, lassie!” “Why can’t you go your bloody self for once?” I muttered under my breath while stepping down from the stool.

Mum would have liked this tree, I thought with a smile of relief and pride. “Quite gorgeous if I do say so-, FERDINAND! NO!” The cat was already halfway up the tree, swatting at the tinsel before I could grab him. The cat shrieked and hissed, sinking their claws into my hands repeatedly. “Bloody hell, stupid cat!” Ugh, it’s not your fault but sod off, kitty!

I sat him down on the couch, knowing full well the second I’d leave the room he would be right back up in the tree. “Feral thing,” I hissed and he looked at me with those big eyes that I just couldn’t stay mad at even if my hands stung and were spotted with tiny droplets of blood from his sharp claws.

I washed my hands and grabbed my coat, hearing Ferdinand in the tree before I went out the door just as sis called my name in that tone that could only ever mean she wanted something from me. I didn’t stick around to find out what.

The afternoon was clear and bright despite the clouds hanging low in the sky. The wind had died down at lunch and it hadn’t snowed since last night. So, truthfully, it wasn’t so bad to be out of the house — even if it were on yet another errand for someone else who was too lazy to go themselves. Doesn’t matter, the weather is good, there’s not much people and there’s salt and gravel on the sidewalk so no slipping about today.

I didn’t dare think more of it as Hans had been on my mind nearly constantly since I had basically bolted away from him. Not even affording the man a chance to say goodbye as the conversation had hit too close to home when he asked such a direct question about my own perception of myself, my value. Are all Germans so direct and blunt?

I opened the door to the little café on the main street of the little village I was forced to call home and stomped off the snow from my boots. The space was decorated to the nines with all things tasteless. From the askew garlands to the tacky plastic Santas and elves dotting the surfaces of the room. Just like every year, it gets progressively worse.

“Oh, Anna-Louise!” I turned only to smile kindly at the little lady with a hunched back and a fat little dog by her feet. She was a sweet thing, hard of hearing and brutally honest but kind, to me at least. “Martha, how lovely to see you,” I said while she stepped up with short, slow steps to me. “Oh, don’t be daft, nobody likes me,” she said but I laughed for I actually did — even if she scared the children and swatted at peoples’ legs with her cane when they were in her way. She had taken care of me when nobody else did. When the house was empty and I was all alone at too young of an age she’d dragged me to her house and stuffed me with the saltiest treats and teeth-breaking cookies burned to a crisp.

“Now, when are you leaving?” she asked, peering up at me without being able to straighten her back, her hat askew and her teeth anywhere but in her mouth, as usual. Nothing changes here. “Martha, please,” I said with a smile as I bent down to scratch the fat dog under its chin — mostly to alleviate the strain on Martha’s neck from having to look up at me though. “You know I’m not leaving, I have nowhere to go, and nobody who cares.” “Humph, that’s hogwash and you know it, lassie! Your mum would have been pissed like a babe eating a sour lemon to see you stay around here with that brain of yours. You should be out there, exploring the world,” Martha said and began to throw around her cane to indicate the great big world.

“You know I can’t—” “That cane will cause harm eventually, waving it about in such a way, lady.” My body stiffened, my hand stopped scratching the dog as the dark German accent interrupted my sentence and Martha slammed down her cane by my foot with a loud thud. Hans…

I rose as quickly as I could. “Hans?” I asked while turning around and there he stood, all well-dressed and straight-backed. “Anna-Louise,” he said with a short nod and a warm smile. “Now here we have a fine man!” Martha exclaimed and I blanched for a second before whipping my head around. “Martha, you can’t say things like that!” I hissed, feeling my entire face burn. “What? Nobody ever uses that pretty name of yours anymore, always saying Lulu this and Lulu that. And look at him,” she kept going while pointing with her crocked finger blemished from old age, “he’s right off handsome, dressing as the men used to when I was a lassie.” “Martha, shush,” I tried with to silence her but Hans merely chuckled behind me. “Why, thank you, most kind of you, my lady,” he said in a charming manner that somehow felt quite false to me. He didn’t sound like that yesterday.

But Martha gobbled up the words with a chuckle before moving closer to the German man who'd saved my life yesterday while I was at a loss for what to do with the old lady and her daft behaviour. “You know my Anna-Louise?” she asked. “She’s yours?” he asked in return. “Well, her sleaze of a father ain’t much to hang in the tree, her good-for-nothing sister nothing but trouble and her mother—” “MARTHA. That’s enough,” I interrupted and the old lady tutted at me.

“Anywho, she’s my responsibility, so who are you?” “Hans Gruber, at your service, my lady.” He clicked his heels and bowed ever so slightly and still I felt as if it wasn’t quite him, yet he was bloody charming with his wide smile and friendly manner. There was just something wrong with it.

“German, eh? Love Germany, went with my husband back in the day, before the whole war thing, of course. Bloody waste of—” “Martha, for god’s sake, stop,” I sighed as the lady was about to set off on her usual campaign about how war was worthless, how her family raised bunnies to eat, how her husband was taken by it and all that stuff — stuff everyone already knew, agreed about or felt the same way about. There was absolutely no bloody reason to bring up world war two in the little café with its twinkling lights and the delicious smell of freshly baked treats.

Hans seemed unaffected though. “Shall I hold the door for you, my lady?” he asked with a wink in my direction and my shoulders slumped. Martha seemed delighted at the chivalry so uncommon in the poor village with too many dodgy people loitering about. “A gentleman, that’s proper behaviour!” Martha said and smiled her toothless grin up at him before moving towards the door that Hans opened for her. “Bye Martha! Remember to put your teeth in before you eat!” I called, a bit too loud perhaps, but the old lady really had bad hearing. She just waved me off though, too busy getting her wobbling dog out the door while looking at Hans.

I took the chance to get to the counter. But I had barely found the right minty cookies before Hans appeared next to me. “Lively lady,” he said with a chuckle and I smiled up at him in apology. “She’s quite the rascal, really, but she’s sweet. Just need to watch out for the cane, and have lots of patience, but she’s not bad,” I said before clamping my mouth shut. “I can imagine,” Hans simply said with a much warmer smile, a genuine feel to him now.

“Here for the treats?” I asked while turning back to see if there were any blueberry muffins left even if I couldn’t afford them. “Ah, no, actually,” he said and I glanced up at him. “You do know this is a café, right? Treats are kinda what they do here.” “Well, yes,” he chuckled, “but I saw you through the window, schnuki.” “Oh,” I said, not knowing what to make of it but feeling the strangest of giddy feelings at the way he looked a bit nervous.

“But, now that I am here, what do you recommend?” “Hmm, well, that depends on what you like. They have a lot of good stuff and the owner is really nice too, he bakes amazing bread too. The coffee is fresh as well, if you like coffee. I’m quite dependent on it,” I smiled while blabbering on. Unable to stop. Feeling as if there were butterflies in my stomach when he stood so close and offered me his full attention. “What are you having?” “Oh, nothing, I’m just getting some cookies for my dad, he ran out.” “So, out on another errand for someone else again?” I laughed nervously at that before biting my lip and turning away, not wanting to show that he’d hit the nail on the head once more.

“Why not get something while you are here? Tell me what you want the most?” “We aren’t all Oxford owners, you know.” “Oxford owners?” he asked, and my shoulders crept towards my ears — embarrassed about the muttering tone of my voice. “We can’t all afford treats,” I clarified in a low voice. “Schnuki,” he said and stepped a little closer, “I can afford to treat you. So, what do you want to have?”

I looked up at him, seeing him so close had my heart in a revolt of the warmest kind. “You really don’t—” “I can afford Oxfords,” he said matter-of-factly, putting an end to the debate. “Blueberry muffin,” I said, almost stunned at my own words -- short and to the point for once. There was no need to blabber much more as Hans actually listened to me, it felt a bit strange, honestly. “That’s your preference?” “My favourite.” “Well then, let’s get one each and some coffee.” I nodded at him, not knowing what to do when he was so kind, and giving. I wasn’t used to it. Everyone in the village had to hold on tight to their money, some more than others and my family was definitely part of that group. Or, I was at least, dad doing whatever he wished and my sis getting her way most of the time — with him or boys in general.

≪⁕≫

Hans hummed as he took the first bite of his muffin. “It’s good, right?” I asked with a small smile while tugging off my gloves to take my own muffin. “Really deli—” His eyes widened as I reached for my muffin and before I knew it my hands were in his. “What happened to your hands?” he asked while the warmth of his skin spread across my chilly hands with a wave of warmth rising within me. I couldn’t get my brain to even think a thought when he touched me, skin on skin.

“Schnuki? What happened? Why are you harmed?” I shook my head, blinking away the daze. “Oh, Ferdinand swatted at me, I’m fine though. He’s just—” “He? Who? Who is Ferdinand?” he gritted out, his blue eyes harsh. “Oh, my sis’s cat, he’s such a rascal because she never tamed him properly and I was doing the tree and he was trying to get the tinsel and climb it so I had to grab him and-, sorry, I’m blabbering… But I’m fine,” I said with a nervous smile as my hands kept tingling while he held them.

“Your hands should never look like this. Why did your sister not deal with her beast?” “Hans,” I laughed while he inspected my hands anew, “he’s no beast, he’s just a bit of a feral kitty.” “Still, this looks painful.” “I’m used to—” “This happens often?” “Well, yeah, I have to deal with him since sis doesn’t. She just thought he looked cute as a baby kitten, and dad hates Ferdinand, but he’s obsessed with making my sis happy so the cat would die if I didn’t care for it as much as possible. He doesn’t like me very much though, he’s a cat so he doesn’t understand who cleans his litterbox and makes sure there’s cat food and treats and clean water every day and all that. And he hates it when I bathe him, that’s a bloody war each time but he has sensitive skin so he needs baths with a special shampoo and-, oh, I’m blabbering again, I’m so sorry, I talk too much, all the time,” I said and finally managed to shut my mouth while my nerves were tied up in knots.

Through it all Hans still held my hands, his eyes apparently never leaving my face while my eyes bounced all over. He was too handsome and when he gave me his undivided attention I could barely hold myself together. So much in me was ready to burst out but he was a stranger I’d only met twice.

“Your family sounds quite terrible, quite selfish,” he said quietly and I laughed nervously, his words being too accurate. Again. “It’s not a laughing matter, why do you let them treat you this way?” “What else am I supposed to do? They’re my family,” I said and he finally (regrettably) released my hands while leaning back, looking at me intently. “Leave? You’re an adult.” “Yeah but I don’t have anyone and I can’t just leave, where am I supposed to go? I’ve never been further than London.” “You don’t need anyone, schnuki. You’re capable and more than able to stand on your own two feet.”

I glanced at him while wrapping my hands around the coffee cup, seeping up the warmth it offered my cold palms. “You don’t know me, Hans,” I whispered, feeling defeated when he had such faith in me. The last person who ever had faith in me was my mother and there was no faith to be had there anymore. “I don’t need to know you, it’s enough to look at you and talk with you a bit.” “Fine, be that as it may, I don’t want to be alone out there. The world is too big, too cruel and harsh. I’d break down in a puddle of anxiety. No, I’m better off here.” “Yet you’re not.” “I didn’t realise the muffin came with a therapy session,” I chuckled while I did my damnedest to restrain the tears wanting to well up. He was so genuine in his words, it just touched something within me — not to mention how he watched me, what it felt like to be near him and the strong sensation of care he radiated.

“I’ve offended you,” he said. “I’m sorry, schnuki.” “No, no you haven’t, I just-, it’s not so simple.” “What if I make it simple?”

I looked up at him, my muffin still untouched on the table and he had gotten comfortable in the booth. Something about the way he spoke those last words had my full attention. Something lingered in the air around him and it felt… honest.

“How would you do that?” I asked, leaning my elbows on the table to not crumble under his heavy gaze. He smiled slyly yet it was done in a comforting, alluring manner. The man had some unexplainable charm, not to mention he was easily the hottest man I had ever seen — not that I had ever been very attracted to anyone I’d ever met before. But his looks were so singular and it felt as if he held himself with a certain pride that had nothing to do with vanity. “Come with me,” he said, no faltering or humour in his voice while I blinked rapidly at him.

I burst out laughing, turning a few heads at the loud noise. “Oh yeah, let me just go with the stranger I met only yesterday, that’s a brilliant idea,” I laughed but he didn’t join in. He remained quiet, serious. “You’re joking, right?” “No.” “You’re being serious?” “Yes,” he nodded while his smile crept back for a second.

I leaned back, my mouth agape and my brain stunned. “You do know that’s like how to not get kidnapped one-o-one, do not go anywhere with strangers. Especially as a woman, and even more so when the stranger is a man.” “So that’s what we are, schnuki? Strangers? Just a man and a woman?” “Well, yes! We just met yesterday!” “Yet I’ve been unable to stop thinking about you.” And I you… This is madness!

My heart was running amok, my brain malfunctioning, and there was some idiotic part of me that simply wanted to say yes. Say ‘take me away from here and never stop looking at me like you are doing right now’ kind of thing that was wholly foolish and a thousand times idiotic.

“I don’t know you, Hans,” I said, even if there was some part of me that for whatever reason had faith in the man. That I wouldn’t come to harm, that I wouldn’t be abandoned again, or treated like some slave in my own home. Hans was… different. “And I don’t know you, Anna-Louise. Yet still, I feel as if I know who you are, what you are supposed to be.” “Nobody knows that,” I sighed, grabbing my coffee anew and drinking a large gulp despite the hot liquid burning my tongue.

“If nobody knows, then that includes you, no?” he asked while I sat the cup down. My eyes lingered on the blueberry muffin. “I guess, that’s almost fair to say. I don’t think anybody really knows who they are or what they are supposed to be.” “Then why not trust in someone else to see something more in oneself?”

I had no answer to that.

“Schnuki,” he said while his hand reached out and took mine gently, his thumb stroking over my knuckles softly. “Why do you call me that? What does it even mean?” I asked and looked up at him, his face soft while his eyes hooked mine. “I’m leaving at nine, taking the train north,” he said and avoided my questions entirely. “If you change your mind and decide you’d like to see the world with me, I’ll be waiting until the very last second, schnuki…”

He release my hand, stroked my jawline gently, and stood. My eyes followed his face all the way up while everything in my body screamed for me to take his hand and walk right out of the café by his side. That my life was going to walk right out with him and I’d never live another day as anything more than Lulu when I could be schnuki, whatever the hell that means. It can’t be worse than losing my name because it takes too much energy to say it, to be of so little value not even my name worth saying in its entirety… But he says it.

Hans walked around the edge of the table, pulling on his black gloves and adjusting the scarf around his neck while my body tensed. He was handsome, elegant, different and alluring in a way I’d never experienced before. “Schnuki,” he said and leaned forward, kissing my forehead gently. Yet, there was resolve and some touchable feeling of longing I couldn’t quite place seeping from his lips against my skin. “If we never met again, know that you are worth more than you think,” he said against my forehead and straightened to his full height.

The sound of the door closing jolted me. I turned to look out through the window, wanting to see him one last time only to find him standing there on the other side with a warm smile that was slightly blurry through the glass covered in frost. He just stood there, watching me for a long moment while my body appeared frozen in place, unable to run after him because of the fear yet unable to get my heart to understand that he wasn’t going to stay.

He took off his glove and drew the tip of his finger against the glass, melting the frost with his body heat while writing something. My eyes were too occupied with the view of his handsome face to fully register what he was doing though. And then he looked at me again, smiling softly with sincerity in those clear eyes. My heart pounded, my ribs hurt from the beating — or perhaps from the knowledge it held that my brain couldn’t comprehend.

One second he was there, and then he was gone. It took me a moment to realise I was staring out the window at absolutely nothing, then I bolted outside. “HANS!” I called over the sound of passing cars and laughing pedestrians. But he wasn’t there. My entire body slumped and a cold sense of dread crept in as I looked around the main street — all the shops and buildings engraved in my mind, every stone housing a memory I wished to forget or a feeling I never wished to experience again. All around me lay everything I had always wanted to escape from, yet had been tied to so fiercely I failed when the opportunity was given. Because I was afraid, taught to think of myself as something small and worthless to the world.

I hugged myself and turned only to catch my reflection in the frosty glass. My eyes had smiled yesterday when I looked in the mirror while brushing my teeth, because he had been on my mind. Now, they were back to their normal state, closed off and vacant. I drew a deep breath and tried to find it in me to turn around and go home.

‘Sweetie’ it said on the window. Where Hans had been writing with his finger, the word sweetie was left behind and I couldn’t understand why such a childishly cute nickname damn near hurt every fibre of my body. Yes, you do, you know, Anna-Louise. You know why it hurt. You bloody well know! I screamed at myself in my head while I grabbed at the fabric covering my chest.

I had been nothing but unwanted, found to be a blabbering nuisance that could never do enough or be enough. The only thing I ever did enough of was talking, but what point is there to talking when nobody ever listens? I talk all the time because-, because no matter what I say or how many times I say it nobody hears me anyway… Nobody listens. I could say I’d off myself and nobody would bat an eye, they wouldn’t have heard me…

I wiped at my cheeks, the tears coming even if I didn’t want them to. My throat closed up as my fingers touched the glass where his finger had been, my other hand covering my mouth to silence the crying I didn’t want to let out. It felt as if years upon years of suppressed hurt, caged anger and hidden fear were trying to crawl their way into the light. It was so easy to hide it away, pretend it wasn’t there when nobody ever cared to see, to listen, to remind me of the fact that I deserved more. That I didn’t deserve to feel like I always did, to hide away and blabber myself into oblivion in the hope that maybe someone would see me, hear me…

I withdrew my hand, wrapping it around my aching stomach while clamping down my hand even harder on my mouth as my tears rolled despite my wish for them to stay hidden while my legs began to tremble beneath me. Did mum feel like this when she left? Was I not enough even for her to-, to bring me with her… It was the thought I never allowed myself to think.

“It can’t end like this. I can’t end up like this. There-, there has to be more to life than-, than-, than this,” I whispered against my palm while the tears chilled my face in the icy English winter. I’ll go. I’ll go and I won’t look back no matter what happens. I can’t-, I can’t live like this. And I… A gasp escaped me as my eyes lingered on the word ‘sweetie’, I feel something significant for him. There’s more to him, us, than just… strangers. There’s more.

≪⁕≫

I ran. My bag thudded against my thigh. They didn’t even notice. They won’t notice until there’s nobody there to do it all. And I won’t! I won’t be there anymore for them!

I panted as the station came into view, the large clock at the entrance standing at 08.56 pm. My heart ached and fluttered, my legs were drained and stiff while the wind clawed at my cheeks. He’ll be there, he has to be there, I chanted over and over in my head to keep the tears at bay.

I was leaving. I wasn’t coming back. I was running away. Running towards something. Someone.

“Please, be, there,” I panted. My breath turned to fog and I slowed down, unable to breathe without a burning sensation erupting in my throat from the cold air being inhaled too swiftly. I slowed down, feeling the nerves erupt and the fear of the unknown tried to make me turn around. But I couldn’t. The thought of him, of Hans, waiting for me with that longing in his eyes that saw me. The man who was happy when I blabbered after having been so quiet at the beginning. ‘She speaks’ he had said with warmth and I could not imagine ever forgetting those words.

I walked through the station house, my naked hands red and raw from the cold while I grasped at the strap of the duffel bag. He’ll be there. He’ll be waiting. He’ll absolutely be there. Right..? “I’ve lost my mind. I’m leaving with a stranger who calls me sch-nuky,” and I can’t even say it right… What am I—

There he was. Waiting on the platform. His entire body tense and stiff. But he was waiting. He was there.

It felt as if I could breathe again. My shoulders sank and an involuntary smile stretched my lips wide at the sight of him. I remained utterly still for a moment as I took him in, took in the fact that he was waiting for me while the train lay idle in wait for its departure time.

“H-Hans,” I whispered, my voice shaking. There was no chance he could have heard me from so far away, yet he straightened and looked around. His eyes found me nearly instantly and his entire body softened. A smile of his own spread across those thin lips framed by his perfectly groomed beard.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t get my legs to take me to him. Stunned that it was all happening. Surprised at the absolute joy in my heart at seeing him again. Transfixed by the shift in his eyes as he looked me over, his gaze snagging on my bag for a second before he began walking towards me. My fingers squeezed the strap harder as he drew closer, my throat closing up.

“Schnuki,” he exhaled a step away from me and then I was in his arms. “You came,” he murmured, as if he struggled for words as well. My arms came around him and I buried my cold face in his chest and shoulder. “I did.” “Anna-Louise…” he exhaled and kissed the side of my head. “We’ll see the world together, my sweet treat,” he continued after that and I couldn’t imagine I would ever have found the courage to leave the misery behind if it weren’t for the stranger who I’d so foolishly swiftly fallen head over heels for.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

A/N: I love these two… Like, I love the way this is so held back yet obvious at the same time. They are so darn cute together and I can’t help but wonder how Anna-Louise would react to finding out who she’s actually left everything for… 😬 What do you think? Would they be able to get through that when they are so new to each other 🤔 I have no idea, maybe?

Either way, I hope you enjoyed this and that you found some delight in the cuteness 🙈🥰💚

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[Dec:2022]

#rickmas2022 #rickmas #hans gruber #hans gruber fic #alan rickman #gruber #rickmaniac #christmas fic #christmas #fanfiction #love the villain #deepperplexity fic #deepperplexity #plex

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bugsbenefit · 8 months ago

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Hello, how are you doing?🌷💓🌞

omgggg lenora you're backkkk hiiiii 🥰🥰💞💗 i missed seeing you on the dash the past weeks so much 💕💕💕🫂

i'm doing good right now actually! (putting a read more here in hindsight because of the ramble lmaoooo)

i'm doing a course to start taking driving classes. which... happens to be in the evening so that does kind of suck actually. but yk exciting to finally get it out of the way! and i'm also almost done with it by now, there's only this week (including the weekend uhm) and part of next week left and then i'll have a normal schedule again akdfhad

(i usually have an atrocious sleep schedule but somehow being out until almost 10 and having to eat dinner then is fucking it up even more. good to know a bad sleep schedule can always be worse if you try hard enough🙏, maybe that'll finally motivate me to improve it when i'm done with the course crying)

and i'm also crossing some things off the list of chores no one in the family has done in ages since i've accepted they're not happening otherwise. like taking my grandma's cat who didn't see a vet in almost 10 years to one last week and she shockingly didn't try to kill me!! (surprising because she's genuinely insane. there's baby photos of her trying to bite people's arteries open. i love her and she has issues. she's cute too, no matter how many of my relatives think she's butt ugly, it adds to her charm. she does look weird tho i admit that. also really fat, big girl, i had to buy a whole new carrier to even fit her into it 😭) big fat cat who hunts mice for fun, looks weird as hell, loves biting people and is also the most touch starved cuddly cat i know, she contains multitudes

she's fine but i'll have to take her again in a few weeks, i'm convinced she'll return to her killer roots now that she remembers what a transport carrier looks like. but i'll just be optimistic about it until her teeth are in my arm 👍

byproduct of that is also that i'm trying to exposure therapy my way through my crippling fear of making phone calls to officials and doctors and so on. thanks insane cat of my grandma 💗 it's a process but it's definitely getting easier

also side effect from all that is that i haven't really been on tumblr much the past 2 weeks either (i mean i say that, i am actually still on here but i usually just scroll and don't have time to reblog/post when i'm on the go. tumblrina is a chronic condition for me i fear)

but there's also not been that much production news for ST or anything i could have missed out on so good timing :D

this is kind of a ramble of what i've been up to adfkjadfj how are You?💞 it's so nice to have you back on the dashhhh

#beloved mutuals coming back from the war this is so awesome <333

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gorillawithautism · 8 months ago

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i am too scared to send pictures so! here is emoji representations of them! i hope it can still bring you joy to imagine them:

🐈 (this is Firefly. she is a very fat calico cat, she enjoys using me as a cushion but she is very heavy so i cannot breathe when she does this. she started life out as a flea-covered kitten living in the street but now she ways one million pounds and eats beef jerky with me, an epic transformation for sure! she has very pretty green eyes.)

🐈‍⬛ (this is Grace. she is a solid grey cat and very greasy for some reason. she is a little evil and likes to bite toes. she is the oldest and hangs out with me a lot. she also lets me "fly" her around like super-man which always looks very funny. she puts her gross paws in the water dish and splashes it everywhere which is very rude but when i tell her to stop she just looks at me funny! she also does not like forehead kisses so i hug her to tell her i love her instead.)

🐈‍⬛(this is Saul, otherwise known as Saulito or "The Baby". she is grace's only surviving kitten and her fur pattern makes her look like an old man with a patchy beard. she is very soft because the other two give her baths a lot- she does not know how to do a lot of things but that is okay because she has good friends to take care of her and hang out with her! she is very good at tag. she also does not listen to me when i ask her not to step on my keyboard... very rude.)

🐕(this is Boba, he is a cream-colored chihuahua-pug with very long legs and he thinks he has hands but does not realize they are actually paws with sharp claws on the end of them. ouch! he is fun to chill with but very smelly. he is kind of like a kangaroo with how high he can jump and how much he likes to kick/punch people when he plays. do NOT wear loose/long sleeved shirts around him or he will GET you!)

they all sound so silly omg

creatures of all time

#ask sws #swingset

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bonefall · 2 years ago

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unrelated to much, but can you give a few fun factoids about russetfur and blackstar ? they’re my favorite duo and i really love what you’ve done with them 🥰

Sure! I can conjure up some. Glad to see my platonic MLM/WLW Black/Russet agenda is spreading across the masses!

Blackstar and Russetfur are lifelong friends, each other’s closest confidants. There’s no person in the world that Blackstar trusts more to be his deputy. He hasn’t always been at her side, and that is one of Blackstar’s deepest regrets. If things had gone just a little bit differently in TigerClan, he would have killed her just like he killed Stonefur.

That is a reality that sits with him, though Russetfur has long since moved past it. He doesn’t feel like that’s something a person should be capable of moving past, and if it is, he’s not a cat who should be on the receiving end of such forgiveness. She thinks the way he tears over these sorts of questions is ridiculous and unhelpful; grief fills no bellies, it only empties them.

They meant the WORLD to each other. When Russetfur died, he felt aimless and broken. He had no idea how to function without her. In my rewrite, Sol’s manipulation is coming AFTER the death of Russet. Not before. It is this loss that causes him to be so susceptible to it.

Russetfur

She was the sort of person who forgets to have hobbies.

Her mind is always focused on practical matters, never had any patience for drama.

Russetfur loves the way a Clan is so personal and connected. Everyone looks out for each other.

BloodClan was so much looser organized... more cats, less personal.

She appreciates having people around who remind her to take breaks

ESPECIALLY people who can cut through her intimidating aura

If you're a cute girl who bosses her around she is already in love with you.

Her friends (and Blackstar especially) make sure to set aside a fat rat for her when she comes off patrol. That’s how you get her to switch off of work-mode.

She actually was pro-Brokenstar, waaaay back in the day, but had loyalty to the Clan above him. So she did not follow his elite into exile.

She was NOT a member of Deerfoot's rebels... but Tigerstar had his eye on her.

The day of Stonefur’s execution a voice in the back of her head told her, “That could have been you.“

Blackstar’s complicity with Tigerstar’s plans put a massive rift between them.

It took a long time to mend that trust, but there was no cat in the world he trusted more to be his deputy... and she agreed that someone had to keep his butt in check.

Blackstar

He broke a tooth biting Deadfoot’s gauntlet during the bloody WindClan massacre. When he thinks about his mistakes, he licks it.

If you're familiar with ShadowClan culture, you'll realize Blackstar is surprisingly fun-loving.

His punishments are VERY creative and usually have an edge of irony. Like making the cats who watched Berrykit writhe in pain humble themselves at a Gathering by reciting Darkstar’s Commandment.

He's Ivytail's embarrassing uncle.

Very critical of himself, though.

He has come a very, very long way from the person he was in TPB.

He sometimes denies himself of pleasures out of guilt.

Him and Russet don't have a lot of ACTUAL arguments, but the ones they do have tend to be about this.

The way Russetfur looked at him after Stonefur’s execution was one of the major reasons he set himself on the path towards redemption after becoming leader.

StarClan did not give him his lives all at once; they made him come back over many years, slowly earning them through trials and reckonings.

He could give in at any time and take the lives from the Dark Forest... but that would mean taking one from Tigerstar. Never. He couldn’t look Russetfur, or Fernshade, or ANY of his Clanmates in the eyes ever again if he did that. Better to have just the 1 life he was born with than 9 from him.

Because of the way he earned his lives over time, his very last life... was from Russetfur, just before the Great Battle.

“Get off the floor, you sad sack. I’m not giving you a life for crying like a big baby.”

He rises, tired, still feeling as heavy as a stone. His executioner’s hood has worn away over countless seasons, leaving only a dark cowl on the back of his head. A thin stripe of black still crosses his chest, like a string dangling threadbare. When she touches her nose to his, he feels a hot surge in his heart.

The black thread snaps.

“With this life, Blackstar, I give you... freedom. Your growth hangs fat on the vine. I give you the taste of the fruits of your labor; the sense to recognize a debt long since lived and repaid.“

#Blackstar #Russetfur #Bonefall Rewrite #Your honor... I care them #A lot of my characterization in this rewrite boils down to what I wish the characters could have been #If the narrative was written with more intent #And this is what I want for these two tbh #Friendships are not respected nearly enough #Hug your friends tbh

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lifeofkaze · 2 years ago

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Firebug

I could write a whole essay about how and why I love you, @the-al-chemist, but honestly, I don't think I have to.

I think you know. No, actually, I know you know. You're the bestest. Happy Birthday 💛💛💛

A/N: Katriona Cassiopeia is the brainchild of the lovely @kc-and-co. Artemis Hexley belongs to @the-al-chemist, ofc. Warning: Language, dark noir world-weariness.

It’s a day like any other, really.

To be honest, most of them are. Same drag, same routine, day in, day out in this fucked up little world, where a new cigarette brand at the store is the biggest outrage and excitement people have seen in weeks.

My morning starts like most days do - wake up from the shouting in the streets; squint at the dirty midday light filtering through even dirtier windows; roll out of bed and find some breakfast consisting of cold coffee and a cigarette, both of which taste suspiciously like ash.

I spend my time running errands, helping my brother Bill with those business transactions of his that require a little more subtlety. From the change I find in his debtors’ pockets, I treat myself to lunch at Molly’s - lukewarm eggs, rubbery bacon and beans that are worse than my morning coffee. A bloody culinary dream.

I’m still thinking about Mama Molly’s scrambled eggs as the doors of the custody cell fall shut behind me. Office Corey Hayden, the portly policeman who has locked me up, says nothing, just scratches his fat belly with the doughnut crumbs on it and shakes his head at me.

“This is the fourth time this week, Weasley.”

“And it’s already Saturday. Disappointing, I know.”

As I said - a day like any other, really.

Officer Doughnut rolls his eyes and turns away. He has a football match playing on his small television in the corner. I bury my hands in my pockets, grunting as I chafe my knuckles on the scratchy fabric. The wounds still sting, but the bastard on the receiving end has had it coming. Thinking about him makes the rage in me flare up again. One scumbag down, a million more to go.

Like a giant fucking hydra.

Rubbing my fingers with the fresh blood against each other, I place one bloody thumbprint against the wall, right next to the one from two days prior. My own personal scoring record. I was here. I will come back.

Officer Hayden grunts. “‘Tis ain’t no fucking gallery, Weasley. Stop it.”

“And if not?”

The police officer grunts again and focuses on the match, turning the television so I can see what’s going on.

“Is it too much to watch some goddamn rugby, at least?” I hear a voice behind me, followed by two sharp clicking sounds. I turn.

Behind me sits a woman; a girl, even, it’s hard to tell. She looks small in her oversized coat, and her mane of unkempt hair. She’s scrawny, almost haggardly so. Mama Molly wouldn’t be able to resist stuffing her with food until she’d throw up from either amount, or taste, or both. The source of the clicking sound, I realise, is a silver lighter she holds in her hand. She flicks it open and closes it again, her eyes trained on the TV screen. I cock my brow at her.

“Not exactly the Ritz, ain’t it?”

“Dunno. Never been there.”

She stares at me, a challenge if I’ve ever seen one. Her eyes are strange, hazel, with a green ring around the middle. They remind me of a cat. How curious.

“And who would you be?” I ask, leaning against the bars of our shared confinement. “Never seen you around before.”

Her cat-eyes narrow. “Are you hitting on me?”

“Just trying to start a conversation.”

She snorts. “Don’t bother.”

“I’d listen to her, Weasley,” Officer Corey chimes in, putting his feet on top of a pile of paperwork that will never see completion. “Tried to bite me earlier.”

I turn my attention back to her. “Feisty, are you?”

She only glares.

“Whatever,” I shrug into her sullen silence. “I’m Charlie, by the way.”

More silence. I shrug again and concentrate on the match. Exeter City have just swindled themselves to a penalty. Suddenly, the cat-eye-woman speaks up.

“I’m Fire.”

“Feisty and confident.”

“No,” she says angrily, “that’s what they call me at work.”

“You have work?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“So are you.”

The corners of my mouth twitch. “Maybe this is my job.”

A snort can be heard from Officer Corey’s corner. The woman gives me a hard look from her strange eyes.

“Are you taking the piss?”

“Anything to lighten the mood.”

I flash her a grin but receive only a frown in return.

“Forget it, Weasley,” Corey calls again, followed by a groan as Exeter’s striker kicks the ball straight past the goal. “She’s like a feral cat, that one.”

“Have yet to meet a cat who doesn’t like me.”

Silence again. Exeter have taken the failed penalty badly and - much to Officer Corey’s chagrin - are falling apart quickly. From time to time, I glance at the woman with the cat-eyes. She’s stopped playing with her lighter and is staring at the wall as if, by the sheer force of her bad mood alone, she could blow a hole in it. I sigh.

“You really are one fun cellmate, aren’t you?”

I almost think she has stopped responding to me altogether when she raises her chin and asks,

“Why are you here?”

“Animals,” I tell her, seeing her shoulders relax, even if only slightly. “I get them from illegal breeders who treat them like shit. Giving them a taste of their own medicine. That’s why I’m here.”

I’m not sure she believes me. Her face gives away nothing.

“That’s what you meant about the cats earlier?”

“I did.”

“And that’s all?”

“That’s all. What about you? Who did you piss off?”

“No one,” she responds stubbornly. “A misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding my arse,” Officer Corey huffs. “Picked her up by the harbour earlier.”

I frown. “Where the big fire was?”

“Right bloody next to it. And good thing we did. She’s with that Cassiopeia lady, or so I’ve heard. No good ever comes of that lot.”

Corey’s words pique my interest. I know KC and her girls. Despite what Officer Corey thinks, they’re good girls, all of them. The business they’re dealing in is beyond me, but everyone with half a brain cell left knows to leave them alone. They look like angels, but their kiss brings death.

I look at my cellmate.

Or fire.

I nod at the lighter she has taken out again. “That why they call you Fire?”

She tenses, and the lighter disappears in her pocket in an instant. “No.”

“Why then?”

“None of your business.”

“Well, I’ve got time.”

“Tough luck. I don’t.”

With that, she rises to her feet and walks past me to the door of our cell. Beyond the bars, a woman has appeared in the doorway to the police station, surrounded by a cloud of glamour and expensive perfume. Katriona ‘KC’ Cassiopeia takes a long look at the woman calling herself Fire, a resigned sigh leaving her blood-red lips. She pulls a slender purse from her handbag and places a big bundle of banknotes on Officer Corey’s desk. Thumbing through them with greasy fingers, he finishes his doughnut and gets up to unlock the cell.

“Off you go, Miss.”

KC’s eyes only graze me, but she gives me a nod of recognition anyway. I return it. Down in the drags, we’re all in the same boat, after all, one way or another.

“This is not what we agreed on, Artemis,” I hear KC hiss at her protégée, who stubbornly looks ahead. I swear I can see her non-existent fur bristling. “You’re a proper fire hazard at this point, you know that?”

“Way too small for a hazard,” I can’t help but comment. “More of a firebug, if you ask me.”

“Shame no one’s asking you, Weasley.” KC gives me a look. “Staying longer this time ‘round?”

“Only until my deposit arrives, I’m afraid.”

“Figures. I don’t have that much luck.”

The two women leave, quietly talking among themselves. I watch as they step outside into the drizzling rain, KC beneath a luxurious umbrella, her fiery friend hidden by the hood of her coat. As they vanish into the night, I see the quick flicker of a flame before that, too, disappears into the night.

I smirk to myself as I settle into my favourite corner of the cell. A new player, then.

Welcome to the game, little Firebug.

You’re in for a hell of a ride.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #artemis hexley #corey hayden #dark noir au #happy birthday al

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