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randynova · 3 years ago

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Poor Petal, she must have had a panic attack when she found out she was pregnant for the first time.

She was downright terrified.

She broke down crying, screaming into her pillow, refusing to let Doma hold or console her. Surprisingly, he left her alone, letting her deal with her emotions on her own.

The only words he left her was, "Oh, [Name], I'm so happy. Soon, we're going to be parents, my sweet pretty petal!"

[Name] just couldn't understand how this happened. She was careful, so diligent in taking the tea every night. She began racking her mind, trying to make sense of it all, and search for a possibility why this small mistake occurred.

Until she recalled two months prior, where Doma's insatiable hunger for his wife consumed him. Like an animal in heat, he forced himself on her, ignoring her pleas to stop, releasing his fertile seed deep into her womb. Over and over again, he made sure every night she was filled with his cum, having the sole mission to make her bear his children.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Doma had to travel southward for demon duties and he felt this was the perfect opportunity for you both to get closer. A whole week together, all alone while he was free from his duties, a chance to finally have some quality bonding time without his cult. It was a dream come true.

However, this place was in the middle of nowhere, hardly any villages, let alone stores, around. All the sources you used to protect yourself from Doma were gone, the foods and teas you consumed to prevent a pregnancy out of reach.

The only people around were fellow upper moons, who stayed far away from your husband, especially you.

Thus, you were forced to endure his doting behavior, forced to play his dangerous games, and forced to let him breed you.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

"Pretty petal. So pretty, so beautiful. You're taking me so well, hah," Doma laughs, snapping his hips harshly, thick balls slapping against your skin. You bounced with every thrust, mewling and whimpering, begging him to slow down. It only stirred him on to go faster. "No, no, no, this is the best way to ensure maximum success with fertilizing you. I have to make sure my seed is as deep as possible inside you, my petal!"

The aching between your legs grew, arching your back as an orgasm washes over you once again. Your juices release over his thick cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your velvet walls constrict around him. "Ah! Ah, D-Doma!"

"Mm, hngh! P-petal! Petal! Petal! " Doma whines out, biting his bottom lip, grinning like a madman as the sweet relief of climax fast approaches him. His thrusts turn sloppy and his hips stutter. Quickly, he pulls out and leaves you feeling empty for a few seconds. He grabs your legs, hooking his arms around your knees, and pushes your thighs to your chest, claws digging into your plush skin as he starts to hammer into you. "So-so good! Such a good girl! You'll be such a good mother, sweet petal! Just you wait! I'll make you a mommy, ok? Just- fuck!"

He releases long, thick ropes of cum, painting your womb white with his fertile seed once more. He thrusts weakly, head falling back as he gasps. "Mm, ah-ah, [N-Name]...!" You squeeze your eyes shut, looking to the side, swallowing bitterly as he fills you to the brim, cum leaking out as he slides in and out. It drips onto the bed, staining the pristine, red cotton sheets.

"Oh, petal, please don't look away. I want to see you," Doma croons, pulling out with a shaky breath and looking down at the mess between your legs with a grin. White painted the sheets below like a puddle. He pulls out with a groan. Seeing the way your pussy gushes out his cum, flexing around nothing, it makes him want to take you all over again. He slides two fingers up across your folds, gathering his seed, and pushing it back into your sopping hole with his fingertips. He hums whilsts you whine, rocking your hips at the weird sensation. "Such a pretty sight, you took me so well, petal. I'm so proud of you!"

He's met with silence. Though, it doesn't bother him as he already fulfilled his task for the night. After five long rounds, he believes its enough for the day and he'll repeat the process tomorrow. For now, both of you need rest, we'll, mainly you if you're going to stay awake during the whole ordeal.

You were in a daze as Doma cleaned both you and himself up, changing the sheets into soft clean ones, and covering your body with the blankets, tucking it in.

"Good night, my pretty wife," Doma whispers, taking his spot beside you, his arms slithering around your frame and pulling you close. His chest pressed against your nude back, his legs tangling in yours, and he buried his face in your hair, taking a deep breath of your sweet aroma. "I love you..."

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Immediately after coming back from your journey, Doma became busy, his schedule packed to the brim with orders from his master. It irritated him, saddened him even, that he would be apart from you for a while.

As much as he loved ravishing your body every night, he had to focus on completing every task with precise accuracy. He doesn't want to disappoint his master after all.

But before he left you alone the first night back, he replaced your assigned follower with a different one. One that reported back to him and carried out his orders, their loyalty to the demon overriding their morals to protect you.

He wasn't stupid. It didn't take long for him to figure out the tea you drank prevented you from becoming pregnant, a huge change to the tea he got to make you fertile. The news did upset him, but he hid the discovery and played along with your little antics. It made him try to come up with a solution, where he disguised the tea you drank to better fit his wishes.

Like an unsuspecting mouse, you walked right into the cat's claws.

Anyone who tried helping you was either eaten by Doma or killed by him in another manner. If the actions of a stupid, disloyal follower was keeping him away from his dream of having a family, the demon won't hesitate to get rid of them. They should know better.

Doma's dreams are his followers' orders.

If he says he dreamt of eating a hundred virgins, his followers should offer him the bountiful feast of meat from a hundred virgins.

If he says he dreamt of growing his cult, his followers should go out and recruit people to join them.

Now, if he says he dreams of a child with his wife, his followers should offer their help and make sure he gets his child.

By god, did they live up to his expectations for once. Everyone - from the ones who prepared your meals to the new members who brought you gifts - made sure every small action built up to the final wish of their leader's plan.

Every food and drink you consumed had been carefully chosen to help make you plump and help the baby grow. Every bath had been filled with excotic herbs to soothe your changing body. Every offering had slowly been gearing towards a human smaller than you. Yet, you never really paid attention to the small differences.

Doma noticed how tired you seem lately, how you complained to the follower assigned to you about the tenderness of your breast and the pain of your abdominal and pelvis area, and even how different you looked, almost glowing.

At first, he didn't put the pieces together. Surely all women were like this, right? Yet, that wasn't the case.

He found himself always wondering why your emotions were easily more unhinged, why you ate the foods he hand-fed you more easily, or why you were napping in the afternoon. Yes, he liked these changes and welcomed them eagerly, believing you were finally warming up to him. But why?

After nearly six weeks, you were worried why your period didn't come. You speculated the stress could have been a prominent factor in causing your late cycle, sometimes occurring in your youth. You seem bloated lately as well, you note, or it could've been weight gain due to the food you have been eating lately. Thus you brushed it off.

It'll come soon, you just know it. Afterall, you're still a human and change is a part of life.

In another area of the temple, a different situation was unfolding. When the trusted follower reported to Doma about your very late menstrual cycle, he clapped with joy like a child being entertained. Of course! How slow can he be?! You finally are carrying his child! The hormonal changes affected how you behaved with him and the sudden weight gain explained it all.

Oh, he just couldn't wait for the day to come!

However...

He had to make sure you did nothing irresponsible to push back his dream.

Doma became more strict and possessive with you. He didn't let you go anywhere alone. Even if you were in the privacy of your room, someone had to be there.

The days where you spent waiting for him in your bedroom were now spent at his side. He forced you to sit on his lap like before, feeding you more than you're used to. Any question concerning his increase of doting behavior was met with a laugh and a kiss to your cheek. "I just love you so much, I want you to be healthy!"

Doma isn't stupid. He knew the moment he mentioned, or even insinuated, you were pregnant, you would break down and possibly affect the baby negatively. He didn't know if you were capable of taking drastic measures of getting rid of it this far along, but he didn't want to find out.

With careful, watchful eyes, Doma made sure everyday you were fed well, that you were always protected, and made sure nothing upset you. He went the extra mile to find medicine and herbs incase you ever fell ill. The demon made sure your attention was always occupied to keep from noticing your changing body.

To say it worked was an understatement.

By the fifth month, you realized despite your growing stomach, you weren't gaining weight anywhere else. Most of your clothes fit like a glove except around your abdomen.

Your heart began to race as you wracked your mind of the events for the past few months.

When was the last time you had gotten your period?

You don't recall changing your sheets every month because you stained it, nor do you recall dealing with the hassle of keeping yourself clean. Come to think of it, you felt at ease these past few months, the usual cramps and cravings you felt no longer bothering you like before.

Ridding yourself of your clothes, slipping your kimono off until you're left in your undergarments of hadajyuban and susuyoke. You undid your sash and revealed your stomach. You're met with the sight of your bulging tummy and tender breasts. Pressing a finger pad to the skin of your stomach, it seemed firm instead of soft and plush. With a shaky breath, you pressed your palms against your stomach and...

Kick. Kick.

You removed your hands immediately, face falling. No...

No. No! No! No!

How didn't you notice it before!?

Your chest fell and rose quickly with every breath you took, hyperventilating as the situation dawned on you. You were pregnant. Actually pregnant with that damn demon's child. A bellowing scream ripped from your throat, the high-pitch intensity resonating like shattering glass throughout the temple.

Doma raced to your bedroom, fearing the worse as he heard his wife scream. He ran into the bedroom, only to be met with your form bawling on the floor, hunched over as sobs wracked your body. Followers tried to console you, yet you ignored them.

Doma approached you carefully and crouched down, but the moment he put a hand on your back, you whipped your head and cracked your hand across his face like a whip. He fell back, catching himself, shock etched into his features. You... You hit him? He paid no mind to the followers who raced to his side, asking him if he was okay. He was more surprised you dared slap him.

The stinging of his cheek didn't hurt , but it caught him off guard. He looked up and leered at you with wide eyes. Yet he clashed with the burning, sorrowful gaze you held.

"Fuck you! Goddamnit, leave me alone, you monster! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!!" You screech, standing up and burying your face in your hands. Tears slipped through your fingers and dripped to the floor.

Doma smiled, finally understanding why you were reacting the way you were. He began chuckling, then giggling, and then he broke into a fit of laughter. He stood up and held a hand to his face, looking at you with a crazed, delighted expression on his face. Gleefully, he spoke, "Oh, petal! You finally caught on!"

You shake your head and begin crying louder, turning your back to the demon. "No, no, no...," you whimper.

"We're going to be parents...," Doma croons, taking small, quiet steps towards you. Like before, he tries pulling you close but you brush him off.

"Please... Please, just leave me alone...!"

"Oh, [Name], you'll see. Once our baby is here, you'll love being a mommy. Just like I'll love being a papa...!"

"No... I didn't want this...."

"But I did! I told you for so long...," Doma whispers, uncomfortably close to you. He lets out a breathy laugh. "And now that you're finally with child, I'm going to make sure I see my baby no matter what."

You could only stand in horror, listening to his voice. The panic crawled up your throat, fear taking hold of you as you froze up. With bated breath, you wait for him to leave. But his next words made your heart drop and blood run cold.

"I'm willing to do anything for our child, [Name]. Even if it means I may have to hurt you to guarantee their safe arrival."

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Doma is not submissive and breedable. He is dominant and fertile.

He finally has his wish of having a family with the woman he loves.

And he'll do anything to make it come true.

Even if it means he has to become the monster and hurt you to get it.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜,

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

407 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

One

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, meet cute scenarios, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language

Word count: 3.9k

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO

homebody noun

: one whose life centers around the home.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Grocery stores are a cursed place. Horrible. You might have guessed that if there were to be a special layer of hell to be reserved for you (which you sure as hell wished there wasn’t) it would likely be a grocery store.

Firstly, they are one of the messiest places that you could ever experience. Have you seen the ways that those beige-y grey floors get caked with dirt and smudges from who knows what? Have you seen the dirt and grime that hides under those produce shelves? Secondly, why is it that everyone always feels the need to get so close to eachother crammed in those isles? Why is it that you have to do that awkward shuffle when your cart and someone else’s cart gets in each other’s way and you have to do the “no you go first” and “no, you go first.”

You prayed that you had been good enough in this life to escape some kind of grocery-store induced hellscape.

Partly it was Bomi’s fault. Temperamental nuisance. Three days into her newest bag of cat food and she suddenly decided to go on a hunger strike. The internet had told you that perhaps she just didn’t like the flavor. Little did the internet know that you had nearly already tried every other flavor there was, even the expensive ones.

You stared down to your crinkled up list filled with the ramblings of an attempted grocery list and other absentminded doodles.

DONT FORGET STUPID NEW CAT FOOD

Under the reminder, you had drawn an angry little cat face with Bomi’s characteristic calico facial splotches.

“Damn cat. You’re lucky that I still love you.” You uttered under your breath.

The wheels of your cart screeched as you turned the corner into the pet isle. Of course, you were the lucky one that had to pick the cart that had only three functioning wheels and whined like your mother over the phone. You cringed to yourself, bearing through the sound and the two glances from a mother and her child throwing an obscenely large bag of dog food into their totally normal cart.

You didn’t need to, but you mouthed a tiny “sorry” to them as you passed them.

The tall metal racks appeared to touch those flickering fluorescent lights above them as you perused them, glancing over all of the brands which you had undoubtedly purchased one time or the other.

Tuna, salmon, tuna and salmon, tuna and veggies, salmon and veggies...

What would it be that Bomi would tolerate this time? Was it grains that she didn’t like? Wet food?

Merely looking at the prices for the canned cat food sprung such a headache that you wished you hadn’t looked at them at all. But, if it was what your princess would eat...

On the highest shelf, your gaze caught a brand that you hadn’t seen before, so you summoned your strength to stand on your tip-toes, stretching up your arm as far as you possibly could, teetering just a little...

“Al...most--”

“Here, I can get that, let me just--”

“--Oh no, it’s fine, I can reach it, thank you--”

“--It’s alright, I’ve almost got it...”

His elegant fingers got tangled up with yours. Had your determination been any weaker, he would have snatched it up all himself, but...

He chuckled a little. “Are you sure?”

You turned your head to affirm, “Positiv--Minho?”

“Y/n?”

You had finally had the little can in your grasp, only to feel it slip out of your fingers in your shock.

The terrible sound of the aluminum can hitting Minho’s head and glasses bonked between your fumbling arms, working just too slow.

“Ssss-OW!”

Minho’s hand went immediately to rub at the top of his head with eyes tightly shut.

“Oh my god!!! Are you okay?”

Instinctually you swooped in to see if any harm had been done.

“Ah-I’m fine, don’t--I’m fine.”

Your neighbor patted down his head, trying to craft a smile for you under his painfully crossed brows.

“Are you sure? I-I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid and clumsy, don’t you think that you have a concussion or something?”

He laughed out a sharp chuckle, then winced at what the action did to his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure about that?” If he could have heard, he would have noticed your heart anxiously beating at a hundred times per second.

“It’s okay, really, I’ve had worse things thrown at my head.”

“What the hell could be worse???”

“You don’t want to know.” He maintained his hopeful grin.

Even after being assaulted by cat food, he was still just as beautiful as you remembered.

“Oh! Your glasses!! Where did those go??”

Frantically, you spun around, shoving your cart aside with another startling screee. Quickly you found them nearest the bird seed.

“Here. Here you go, I hope that they’re not broken.”

“Mm-doesn’t look like it.” Minho inspected them.

“Oh thank God.”

He huffed out one more little scoff-sounding laugh. “At least you’ve got the cat food that you wanted now.

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

“I said don’t worry about me.”

Minho fluffed his hair back into place, likely hiding another rub to his throbbing head.

What even does one say to someone who you nearly wrecked with cat food?

“You uhh--what are you doing here?”

“The same as you, getting cat food.” Minho snatched a bag of food from a lower shelf. “With three mouths to feed you tend to run out pretty fast.”

“Oh! I-uh...can imagine.”

“Weird shopping here like I live here now...never thought that would happen. I’m still getting used to everything around here; never knew that I would end up back living with my mom...and at my age.”

“Don’t-don’t feel bad! It’s a nice area around here! At least I think, and it’s a... nice grocery store...”

You did not think that it was a nice grocery store, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Minho smiled back at you warmly, just as he had done back on your doorstep, tabby cat in his arms. You had wanted to see it again.

“-Guess that means I’ll be seeing you around here more often too then.” He took the cat food can--his ex-assailant-- to drop into your cart.

“I guess so...and sorry, again.”

“Really don’t worry about it!” Minho rolled up his hands into little sweater paws on the handle of his cart. “I’ll see you later then.”

“See...you...”

Your words trailed behind him, seeing as he had already started wheeling away. As soon as he was out of an earshot, you cursed yourself out terribly--another habit you had developed since living alone; you really were your only company.

“God, Oh god. Now he thinks that I’m a recluse and a wreck, oh god--”

“--Hey! Watch where you’re going!!”

An old man with a newsboy cap griped before you nearly collided with him and his cart full of diet sodas.

“Sorry!! I’m so sorry!” You bowed profusely in apology while removing yourself from the isle as fast as you could.

Grocery stores really were your own kind of personal hell.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The cold metal of the bus stop sign dissolved into your sweating forehead while you watched the springtime sunset fade out before you. It really was pretty, and it was just enough to distract you from how weighed down your backpack and numerous reusable bags felt. Had your hands been free, you would have taken a picture.

What time is it even?

Your watch was restricted by the number of straps around your wrists. Sometimes stepping outside of your home and onto the sidewalk was draining enough to make you feel like scurrying back inside. Big trips like this however, had you falling asleep in those uncomfy plastic chairs in (also) disgustingly messy buses.

To your right, you heard the usual hum of the number 10 bus wheel up.

“Wait! Wait!! Hold the bus!!”

Hurried footsteps came patting behind you, followed with shallow running breaths.

Hair bopping and cardigan flopping a little like wings behind him, Minho sprinted to the doors.

“Take a seat ma’am.” The bust driver snapped you out of your embarrassment over seeing him one more time than you would have liked.

“Ah-sorry, I will.”

You shuffled your way near back of the bus and attempted to hide your face behind your bags decorated with none other than flowers and cartoon cats.

“Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.” You chanted under your breath while your neighbor looked for a seat.

“Y/n? Heh, I just keeping running into you don’t I?”

“Minho!!!!” You piped, just a little too animatedly. “Huh! Didn’t figure I would see you here...too...”

Minho slid into the booth across from you. “I mean, it makes sense, we’re going to the same place basically.”

“Don’t you...have a car or something?”

“I do, but I figured that the grocery store was close enough, although, I didn’t really factor in how all of this would weigh a ton.”

“Hm, I never really do as well.”

A pair of older lades glared over at the two of you, clearly displeased that you were disrupting their peaceful bus ride. Minho cowered under their piercing and aged brown eyes, then stealthily slid into the seat next to you.

His washed out jeans brushed up against your leggings, and you felt your hairs stand on end. If there was someone out there who decided if you went to a hellscape grocery store, they must have also been able to mask the smell of your sweat. You hoped that they were listening to your pleading requests.

“It’s a really a nice evening isn’t it?”

Minho peered out your window at the little shops and bustling streets beside you. The sidewalks were decorated with little skinny trees here and there which had just started to bloom with the buds of leaves and flowers. There was a peaceful air about the scene that reminded everyone that the cold would soon be gone for good, and the sky swirled into pinks and purples.

“Oh! Yes, yes it is.”

You tried your best to ignore the fact he was leaning into you slightly.

“So. What else do you do besides be a cat parent and a part-time chucker of canned goods?”

You wanted to crawl in a hole once you saw his adorable grin once more. “I-I have a job, a couple actually.”

“A couple? And what are they?”

“I teach online college courses in creative writing and English.” your glasses fell a little down your nose bridge, so you adjusted them accordingly, “I also edit for a small publishing company--but that’s more of a side thing.”

“That’s...a lot of writing and things like that.”

“Well, it’s what I went to school for, and, I don’t mind...although my mother--”

“--Have you written anything yourself? Anything that I could read?”

You felt your cheeks set ablaze with heat. “You?! Oh no no no no.”

“What?” A mischievous grin overtook Minho’s adorable one. “Do you write provocative content?”

“No! I do not!” Your tone turned more defensive than you had intended.

“Well, what do you write? Even if you did write that kind of stuff, I wouldn’t mind. Provocative contents are trendy these days.”

“I didn’t even say that I write in the first place!”

“I just assumed seeing as you seem to do other things in this field...so, what do you write?”

“It’s embarrassing, and I don’t owe you the knowledge!!”

Minho reached over your fuming body to pull at the bus cord, letting out the little stop requested tune.

“What is it that you do then?”

“Something boring and business-y that you wouldn’t care to know about. It’s definitely not as interesting as what you do I’m sure.”

Your neighbor gathered up his bags while the bus slowed to the stop.

“You coming?”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[19:07]

me: seung, i’m such a fool. you will not believe

seungmo: should I even guess? what? Bomi yack during your online lecture again?

me: no, worse.

seungmo: i’m listening.

i guess i don’t really have a choice though don’t I?

you’re just gonna tell me anyway aren’t you?

The cat in question purred in your lap, permitting you your usual one hour of cat-attention a day like she would during the evenings. After your day of embarrassment, you had hunkered down on your favorite place on the couch, swaddled in blankets with the TV playing some nature show that you had been trying to pay attention to. Somehow, the thought that Minho living just doors away made it all seem even worse; you were bound to see him again.

You bit your lip and started tapping away at your phone screen, regaling the entire tale to your best friend--who frankly had enough of your awkward “you-isms.” However, no matter how socially insecure you were, Seungmin appeared to stick by you. In fact, it was one of your “you-isms” that had brought the two of you together.

Four years ago at that pet shelter where you had got Bomi, Seungmin was there too looking for a dog. It was Bomi’s skittish self that leapt out of her cage and into Seungmin’s arms when his dog started barking. Bomi had nearly destroyed Seungmin’s sweater by the way that she had clawed into him. Of course, you took her crime upon yourself and insisted on buying him a new sweater. After an exchange of phone numbers, he hadn’t gotten bored of you yet. Bomi had always liked him more than you--the traitor.

[19:18]

me: ...and then he showed up on the bus, just as I had thought that I had escaped, and then started berating me about what I do for a living.

seungmo: are you sure he wasn’t just asking questions, NOT berating?

me: it felt like it.

seungmo: and why are you telling me all of this?

me: bc I wanted you to give me some comfort?? or reassurance?? isn’t that what friends do?

seungmo: what do you want me to say? I’m sorry, that was really embarrassing? get over it? stuff like that happens to you all the time y/n, I don’t know why you are making such a big teal of it.

*deal of it.

me: wow, you’re being of such help.

seungmo: you’re overthinking it. as always.

me: but i’ll have to SEE HIM again.

Seungmin’s little three writing dots disappeared, and you waited in silent anxiety for what he would say next.

[19:24]

seungmo: you’ve got a crush on him don’t you

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The evening sky had darkened, and you felt the air temperature begin to drop. It wasn’t unbearable however, and you had prepared yourself well with your giant sheep-like blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The cold wire chair that you sat in was undoubtedly pressing shapes into your bare legs crossed up on it, but you never seemed to mind it.

Bomi yowled behind the sliding glass door to your backyard, so you allowed her to exit, making her a much happier cat. The two of you enjoyed these nights together deeply--they almost felt like a brief escape from life. Bomi would sneak around the edges of the fence, sniffing and looking rather suspicious when her green eyes would glow in the light of the house. Your glasses likely looked the same reflecting the light from your computer screen.

You took one more sip of tea, then opened up your internet. A couple clicks, and you found the notification screen on your page.

hearts: 267

shares: 19

comments: 21

Your eyes scanned over the little paragraphs that some of your readers had written for you. It made your heart swell with immense joy seeing the way that they had analyzed and picked apart every little part of your prose and how they would write IN ALL CAPITIAL LETTERS about how excited they were for your next chapter.

I can’t wait for the next chapter! I’m DYING to know what was in that chest!! I really hope that Bomi can trust Davers. He just seems a little shady to me >////<

YOU’RE INSANE FOR THIS. The fact that Bomi could fight off the dragon while Blaze was confessing his feelings for her??? I could never lollll

P L E A S E protect little Herbie. He’s such a cutie. I wish that hedgehog companions were real, I would take one with me everywhereeeee

N/n, your writing is so so pretty!! I felt like I was right there in the scene with them! The way that you described the enchanted fountain had me drooling ahhh you’re such an inspiration to me as a writer!!!

Blaze fanclub?? i’m trying to see somethin’

“If Blaze were real, I’d be the president of that fanclub.” You laughed out to yourself.

Suddenly, you found you thoughts shifting from your dreamy Blaze to someone much less fictional.

Crushes on boys who were real was much better than one’s who weren’t. It was nice admitting it to yourself at last.

“Ahhhh” You sighed out, doing a little happy dance in your seat, then opened up the chat box to return to the replies.

After responding to as many as you could, you opened up a new chapter.

Chapter 22

Blaze wiped off his sword, stained with the steel blue blood of the dragon, still steaming with heat underfoot. His disheveled deep black trellises were coated in his own sweat but it didn’t make him look any less dashing--per usual.

“Princess Bomi, you still haven’t answered my question.”

Bomi sheathed her own sword, then inspected her wooden shield for any more damage. For a moment, she thought that the claw marks made it look even more beautiful and intimidating.

“Blaze. You know that I can’t talk about romance at a time like this, have you forgotten that the kingdom as stake?”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi perched at her usual spot in the window, eyes fluttering closed before she would take her nap that would last for nearly the whole afternoon. You would have been lazing with her, but that would have to wait another hour or so: with your newest paycheck, you had decided to deliver some new flowers to yourself for your garden.

The little array was spread out before you: yellow and purple pansies, pink tulips, fuchsia and baby pink peonies, and dainty while lilies of the valley were arranged where you had planned to adorn your front lawn. The aroma of the flowers lingering in the air was enough to make you feel as if you had transported yourself to the very magical gardens that you would be writing about that evening.

A pair of songbirds chittered past, carrying their whistles behind them. For a brief moment, the sun shone directly onto your arms spotted with dirt and filled your whole body with warmth. Nothing was more peaceful than this. You took to work, crackling them out of their plastic pots, and digging at the earth in holes to hold them down. After a while, you felt the dew from the grass start to soak into your work-jeans, but it was a welcome little cool feeling. Next, you popped up to hose them down with your little attachment that made the water cascade like a rain-shower. You admired for a moment how the water would create little rainbows from the spray.

“Ahem, uh-hi there!”

You choked out a gasp before swinging around, aiming the hose like your sword to the startling voice.

“STAY BACK!!’

You pointed the stream directly at them, only in your horror to see your neighbor, trademark cardigan and all, soaking wet from your weapon.

“GOD! That’s cold.”

The fabric hung onto him, adhering to every part of his body which was much more toned than you had expected.

Minho looked absolutely bewildered as the water dripped off his frame with sad little pat pat pats on the concrete sidewalk.

“Oh God. Oh God. Minho, I’m so so sorry. I-I can’t believe that I keep doing this to you--”

You nearly felt like crying, but for fear of embarrassing yourself further, you decided to turn around quickly in search of your rags. They were garden rags, but dry nonetheless.

“Here, here, I-I think that these should help.”

You dabbed at his body, although it was clear that this wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“Stop, stop,” He pushed your hands away. “I just live next door, I’ll live being a little drenched.”

“You realize that's an oxymoron right?” Your nervous hands continued dabbing.

“A what??” Minho kindly laughed at your frantic hands.

“It’s a...writing thing. Sorry...”

“I really need to be careful around you don’t I?”

Your mouth crinkled into a flustered line. “M’sorry.”

“Can you quit apologizing?? Here, I came over to give you these, my mom made some extra side dishes so she wanted me to bring them over to you.”

“Oh.” He handed you the little bundle of Tupperware containers. “Thanks.”

“She also, or--I mean--I wanted to invite you over so that you could meet my cats...and! my mom. My mom too.”

“You want me to come over?”

“I did mention that I wanted to a little while ago didn’t I?”

“Oh! You did...”

“Does next Saturday work? Around 5?”

“I-I can do five.” You brushed your muddied hand across your sweating brow.

Minho scoffed, “You’ve...got something...on your...”

“Oh! Oops.” You tried your best to wipe off the dirt, but you didn’t know you had only made it worse.

Minho squeezed out his soaked sleeve to carefully raise it to your forehead. “Here, like this.”

This close to you, his brown eyes deeply shone with the color of coffee, chocolate, the bark of forest trees after a spring rain, and a million other things that your writer brain could compare them to.

“There. It’s all gone.”

For a moment, you wondered if you really had fantasized him, or if he really was real. For you, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he was some kind of figment of your imagination: they usually were.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[1 missed call, Mom, 09:12]

“Y/n are you there? Why is it that you never pick up your phone? I’ve told you so many times that you should pick up when I call. What if it’s an emergency? What if someone’s died?? Nevermind, I wanted to call and tell you my friend’s daughter is getting engaged and I’ve been invited to the bridal party. I think that you should come with. It’ll be good to get you out of that house.

Why is it that you haven’t gotten yourself married yet? You know that you aren’t getting any younger?? Either way, call me back. You’ll need to bring a gift too. Its impolite to show up without a gift.

Ah, I almost forgot. Your brother got a promotion at work; I’m not sure if he’s told you. We’ll be having dinner to celebrate this weekend. Can I count on you to be there?

Also, how is the job search going? Your father has some more connections for you to speak to. You need to take advantage of every one of them. You’re so close to getting something that really matters. I can feel it. Ah, I just feel like you’re wasting away there sitting at that computer with those silly classes. It’s like, barely any contribution at all. You could be making so much more money.

Anyway, call me back once you hear this.

love you sweetie, talk soon.

i know that its tuesday and i said I would publish on mondays shhh just pretend I published this yesterday ooP

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e-milieeee · 4 years ago

Text

the stars know (you and i are meant to be)—ladynoir

Summary: Between akumas and school, Ladybug and Chat Noir find some time in between to sit back, have a picnic, and stargaze. And perhaps learn a little more about each other.

Notes: happy birthday @edendaphne! your art was some of the first i saw when i joined the fandom and i love it sm (this oneshot is based off of this). i hope you have a great day <3

written for day 2: stargazing and day 17: future for @ladynoirjuly2020.

Her mother tells her that preparing a meal for someone is an intimate gesture.

Marinette begs to differ. It’s just a meal, after all. There are three meals a day, and she finds it pointless to assign some sort of underlying worth to all of them.

But now, painstakingly arranging the bento boxes she’d made for Chat Noir, she begrudgingly understands what her mother means. She wraps them in picnic cloth, shouldering her bag full of supplies, and then drops out from her balcony to meet Chat.

They find each other halfway; Ladybug spots a familiar streak of black darting between rooftops. She knows he sees her: he always does.

Sure enough, Chat Noir turns up behind her in the span of five seconds and shoots her his usual blinding grin. “Good evening, m’lady!”

His smile is contagious, and Ladybug doesn’t even try to contain her own. “Hungry?” she asks him as they start to move again, racing over buildings at a breakneck speed. “You better not have eaten dinner before this, because I cooked a lot.”

Chat feigns offence. “I can’t believe you would even suggest I’d do such a thing. I’d eat the food you cooked me even if it’s burnt and cold, you know that.” He pauses, a contemplative look crossing his face. “Though I am expecting some world class cooking.”

Ladybug thinks back to the five hours she spent cooking their dinner, and the careful arranging she’d done of the bento boxes and the wide array of food she’d made sure to cook. It’s a fusion of both Japanese and Chinese cuisine—Chat’s favourites. Preparing a meal for someone is an intimate gesture.

Perhaps her mother is right, but it’s still just an intimate gesture between friends. Yeah, that’s what it is.

“World class cooking pales in comparison to mine,” Ladybug jokes, although she also feels obligated to add on, “don’t raise your expectations too high.”

“With you, my expectations are always high.”

She shoves him just for that comment, inciting nothing but a slight falter in his movements and a large grin. With a shake of her head, Ladybug moves on, if only to hide her own smile.

***

They set up their picnic on top of a hill.

It’s secluded, and that’s the best part of the location. Ladybug unpacks her bag to start tugging out the blankets she packed: some to sit on, others to huddle under when the night starts getting chilly. Then, even more carefully, she begins to lay their dinner bit by bit in front of them, until she finally spreads the feast out in front of Chat.

His mouth drops open, and he does not even attempt to close it. Saucer-plate eyes blink at her.

“For me?” Chat finally manages after at least thirty seconds of gaping. “I mean… you made all of this for me?”

Ladybug has to admit she’s pleased by his reaction, and even more so pleased by the fact that their slightly rough journey hadn’t ruined the aesthetic appeal of most of her dishes.

“Well, for me as well,” she teases, reaching over to tap on his bell.

He’s undeterred. “This is unbelievable,” he whispers, more to himself than her. “M’lady, I can’t believe you made this to eat with me.”

Something about his tone tugs at her heart. In an attempt to snap him out of it, Ladybug points out, “It’s kitty themed.”

“I know.” His voice wobbles slightly. “Are those cat cookies supposed to be me?”

“Yeah. They turned out kind of ugly, though.”

“No, they’re beautiful. I wish I could look like that.”

“Chat, you don’t have a nose in those cookies. You really don’t.”

He sniffles once more, and Ladybug realizes belated that he has teared up. “Chat,” she tries, this time in a gentler tone. “Are you… crying?”

He rubs his eyes rather violently. “No.”

“Kitty…”

“Fine, yes. I’m just very happy. These are happy tears. It’s okay.” With one last painful looking scrub over his face, Chat Noir lowers his hands. “You can introduce the dishes and we’ll eat.”

Knowing better to push, she obliges the request, even if Ladybug has her doubts on happy tears. There’s a certain melancholy in his words, the sort that carries an old sort of pain. So instead, sitting side by side, their knees touching and sitting just close enough that she feels the warmth radiating off him, Ladybug starts to name the dishes.

“These are the appetizers,” she tells Chat, who listens attentively. “Those are pork potstickers—they might not be as hot as they were before, though. That one’s called… um, lang… liang ni?” The words don’t sound like how her mother says them, but her Chinese is lacking in more ways than one and Ladybug can’t remember the name of the dish for the life of her. “Honestly, I have no clue what it’s called. I think it roughly translates into cold noodles.”

Chat leans over to scrutinize the dish. “It looks familiar.”

“The noodles are store-bought, but I made the sauce. There’s carrots, beansprouts, and cucumbers. And those tofu things. It’s also spicy, but I put the sauce in a container so if you can’t handle spice, you don’t need to add it.”

Never one to admit defeat, he folds his arms. “I can handle spicy food easily.”

“Okay, tough guy, I’ll take you up on that later. Anyway, I made us both bento boxes for the main meal, and…” She opens the box, and Chat’s eyes practically bulge out of his head.

“Cats?” he demands. “Rice cats? Oh my god, Ladybug, you’re unbelievable.”

Cats, indeed. She’d spent an hour shaping them: sticky rice balls shaped into little kitten heads, with ears sticking out at the side. There’s one made from white rice and another from purple rice, and the faces are styled from carefully cut pieces of dried seaweed, then sprinkled with sesame seeds. Ladybug’s certain that beneath the suit, her hands still smell like the seasoning she’d rolled the rice with because of the sheer amount of time she had spent on them.

“I made both Taiwanese fried chicken and teriyaki salmon for meat, then fried some vegetables. For health reasons. And kimchi, because we had some in our fridge and I thought, why not?” With that, she sets his bento box into his lap and gestures at the cookies. “Dessert. And something else afterwards, if you’re still hungry.”

“Something afterwards…?”

“You’ll see later,” she mumbles. “Anyway, dig in before it gets cold.”

Ladybug’s never been that great at accepting compliments, and Chat doesn’t lay off on them today either. He picks up the chopsticks with care and carefully picks up a piece of Taiwanese fried chicken. He pops it into his mouth, chews thoughtfully, then swallows.

Ladybug is never not in awe of how Chat’s eyes can literally light up.

“You weren’t lying,” he gushes. “This is world class cooking.”

“You’re laying it on a little too thick there,” she laughs.

“I speak only the truth, m’lady. This is amazing. Just like you.”

“Chat…”

“Okay, okay!” He’s still smiling as he moves to the rice ball. “I almost don’t want to eat them. They’re too perfect.”

Ladybug reaches over with her own chopsticks, stabbing one of his rice balls to split it in half, also tearing off one of the seaweed-eyes in the process. “There you go,” she declares sagely. “Ready to eat.”

Chat’s mouth drops open. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“I-I didn’t even get a picture!”

Ladybug pats his back. “Life is full of disappointments, isn’t it, chaton?”

He stabs her rice ball just for the hell of it before returning to his meal.

***

By the time she and Chat have practically cleaned out all the food (how he’d eaten nine cookies after the meal is beyond Ladybug), she’s so full that any slight movement hurts.

“Oh my god,” Chat is saying, tilting his head back. “I don’t think I’ve eaten so much for years.”

“I feel like I’m going to die,” Ladybug agrees. She’s lying back on the picnic blanket, staring at the sky. The sun had set twenty minutes ago, but traces of its light still peek out at the edge of the horizon, dyeing the sky a lovely indigo colour. Only the brightest stars are visible right now, but the others start to blink into existence one by one as day rests and night awakens.

“I feel like I’m going to die too.” He props his chin on his hand. “But it’s the good sort of dying. How privileged I am to be able to die next to you.”

Laughing hurts, but she can’t help but do so anyway. “Drama queen.”

He bats his eyelashes at her. “Only for you, Bugaboo.”

Ladybug wrinkles her nose at him in mock disgust, but a laugh is threatening to spill yet again and she’s not in the mood for another stomachache. Instead, she turns her attention back to the stars. The breeze that breathes over them is soothing.

They don’t do much for the next couple of minutes, simply gazing at the stars, wrapped up in a thick blanket of companionable silence. It’s easy like this, next to Chat Noir: Ladybug doesn’t have to read into these gaps of quiet, instead settling into them—because with him, they’re simply natural.

When the dark settles in completely and the sky alights into a patchwork of stars, Chat speaks up.

“Ladybug,” he says quietly.

She doesn’t turn away from the sky. “Mm.”

“Isn’t it funny that we’re here because of Hawkmoth?”

She pauses her stargazing to look at her partner instead. “What do you mean?”

Chat gives a little shrug, slightly sheepish. “If this… if none of this happened, or if Master Fu ended up choosing somebody else, or a million other possibilities, would we have met? Maybe we’ve passed each other on the street a thousand times and never knew who the other was. That thought has always bothered me, but I’m just… I’m just so thankful right now I can sit with you like this, even with the masks between us. I’m thankful that every time I transform, I know that I’ll see you again. I hate Hawkmoth as much as any other Parisian, but perhaps I have him to thank, for letting me meet you like this. And I hope that no matter what my future will bring, you’ll still be there in it.”

Ladybug can handle the flirtatious remarks, the casual confessions he peppers her with. But this—this is much more intimate, something she can’t help but cradle close to her heart. “Chat—”

“I know you don’t feel the same,” he replies. “And that’s okay. But for so long, no one’s really cared about me like you have, m’lady, and you mean everything to me and I hope you know that.”

Words evade her for a couple of moments. Then Ladybug extends her hand to him, and Chat’s fingers slip around hers, interlocking. It feels right—it always feels right with him.

“Me too, chaton,” she whispers into the sky. “I’m so glad I met you, and I hope that you’ll be there too, in my future.”

She can see his smile in her periphery.

***

Her mother tells her that preparing a meal for someone is an intimate gesture.

Ladybug is inclined to agree, but she thinks that sharing that meal together (and what happens afterwards) is what really makes it so.

Notes: Fics masterlist here!

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #marinette #adrien agreste #fluff #ladynoir #mlb fic #my writing #happy birthday eden! i could go on forever abt how i love ur art but uh just know that u r honestly amazing <3

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the--highlanders · 3 years ago

Text

Allergy

In which Jamie wants some advice, and Polly formulates a theory.

on ao3.

“I think there’s somethin’ wrong with me.”

Jerking her head up in alarm, Polly blinked at Jamie over the top of her book. “Why on Earth do you think that?” He looked healthy enough, she thought. As healthy as she had ever seen him, now he was beginning to look a little less gaunt, his movements less pained than when they had first met. And she knew him well enough by now to know that he would never admit to that sort of trouble out loud. Whatever was worrying him, it must be something else. She hoped it was not something worse.

He flopped down onto the sofa opposite hers, curling up to tuck his feet beneath himself, pressing his hands over the round, plush armrest. The movement was so fluid and easy that she could not imagine it was a physical pain that was bothering him, though that did little to settle the knot in her chest. “Ye know how,” he began, then paused to frown for a moment. “Ye know how some people are – they’re allergic tae dogs, or cats, or somethin’.”

Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it was not that. “Yes,” she said slowly. Then - “but there’s no dogs or cats on board the TARDIS, Jamie.”

The look he gave her was stern, but one corner of his mouth was twitching. “Aye, I know that. An’ I was never allergic tae animals back home, anyway.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Well, I was just – wonderin’, ye know, if it’s possible for someone tae be allergic to somethin’ that’s not from Earth.”

“Something that’s not from Earth?” It was her turn to frown now. “Jamie, you haven’t been messing around with the food machine, have you?”

“No,” he said hastily. “Nothin’ like that.”

“Then what -”

“More like...” Apparently realising he had spoken over her, he paused, picking idly at a loose thread on the sofa. Once or twice, he opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but no sound ever made it past his throat.

It must be important, Polly thought, for him to go to all this effort. Setting aside her book with the pages open against the sofa, she leant forwards, pressing her elbows down on her knees and clasping her hands together. And it must really be worrying him, too. That was the thing with Jamie – he would resist saying anything for as long as he could, so for him to be struggling so hard to spit something out… Well, it was enough to put a cold shard of dread into her chest, that was for sure.

“It’s more like bein’ around some – somethin’,” he said at last. “Ye know, like when you’re around an animal, an’ it makes ye sneeze.”

Perhaps, she thought rather hopefully, he was just musing. Wondering what would happen if he got hay fever from an alien planet, something like that. But no – he had told her that there was something wrong with him. “Do you think you’re allergic to something we’ve run into somewhere?”

“Dunno what else it could be.”

There was still something strange about all this. “Wouldn’t it be better to talk to the Doctor about -”

“No.”

“Oh.” Biting her lip, she tilted her head to look at him sideways, like that might make things clearer. “Right.” What would the Doctor do? she wondered. “When did it start?”

“Ages ago. No’ long after I first started travellin’ with ye.”

She had expected him to say a few days. Maybe a week. Then they would have run through all the places they had been, all the silliest things that he might have been allergic to, until she made him laugh. And then she would have snuck off to the medical bay to scrounge up whatever passed for antihistamines on board the TARDIS. But if it had been going on for so long… Well, no wonder he had finally decided to tell someone. “Do you think it’s something inside the ship?”

He shrugged. “’Spose so. It must be, mustn’t it?”

“What does it feel like? I mean – what happens, why do you feel like there’s something wrong with you?”

Another shrug. “It’s a wee bit strange,” he admitted. That was something, at least. “It’s no’ like I’m sneezin’ or anything – just like my face is warm, an’ my head’s all fuzzy, an’ sometimes I feel a wee bit sick.”

Odd, Polly thought. But if this was a reaction to something alien, it only made sense for it to be different to Earth allergies. “Does it bother you?”

“I wouldnae be tellin’ ye if it didn’t, would I?” That was true, of course. Sighing, she wracked her brains for what she should ask him next – but he asked a question of his own first.

“The Doctor’s no’ human, is he?”

The change of subject was so abrupt that it took a moment for Polly to reorient herself. “No,” she said, as gently as she could. Exactly why she was being gentle, she was not sure – Jamie had been here for weeks already. He knew as much about the Doctor as she and Ben did. That was to say, not particularly much, but there was precious little more that she could tell him. “No, I don’t suppose he is. I don’t know what he is, but I don’t believe he’s human. No human could – could change themselves like he did.”

“Mm.”

“I suppose it’s something he’s brought into the TARDIS that’s making you sick.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it’s from wherever he’s from, though. He’s got stuff from – well, everywhere.”

At last, she had managed to pull a smile out of Jamie. “Aye, I know that,” he said, still grinning. “I’ve told him he should clean it up a bit, but he never listens to me.”

He said it with such frustrated fondness, his smile turning distant with the thought of some old conversation, and Polly felt the seed of a theory forming in her mind. It was small, and silly, and would be terribly embarrassing if she was wrong – but it made sense, in a funny sort of way. If she really thought about it. “Jamie,” she said slowly. “When do you feel sick?”

“Doesnae matter. Any time.”

If she was right, she thought – did he know? Was he just pretending to be confused, to save himself the embarrassment? But if he already knew, then why would he ask her in the first place? Surely he could not be so deep in denial that he really believed it was an allergy. And yet there was no flightiness in his eyes like he had been caught out, just genuine confusion. Maybe I’m wrong, she told herself. Maybe I’m wrong, and I’m just being silly.

“Yes, but – where are you?” She paused, still weighing up whether or not to speak her next words. “Are you with someone?”

She had half-expected him to look even more baffled, scrunching up his face as he wondered why she was asking. Instead, his whole face turned red. Briefly, she wondered if what he was feeling was anything like his ‘allergy’.

His response was mumbled, and she leant forwards to try and catch it. “What?”

“I said,” he forced out through gritted teeth, “it’s always when the Doctor’s around.”

It took all Polly’s self-control to stop herself from punching the air in triumph. I’m right.

Jamie was quiet for a moment, simply giving her a pained look. “He’s not human, is he?” he said again. “So I could be allergic tae him.”

She was dangerously close to bursting into giggles now. For Jamie to feel all that, and have his first thought be that he was allergic to the Doctor… Well, it was sweet in a way, she supposed. But he looked so earnestly distressed, like it had been worrying him for weeks on end, and when she met his pleading eyes she almost lost her composure. Only the sobering knowledge that she would have to be the one to explain things to him kept her from actually laughing.

“Only I’d hate to have to tell him,” Jamie was saying. “He’s been so – so kind tae me, I cannae just – turn around an’ tell him that I can’t stand bein’ near him, can I? Och, an’ it’s not that I can’t stand him, I like bein’ around him -” His face was growing redder and redder, his expression more and more desperate. “What am I gonnae say to him?”

Well, she could hardly just leave him like this. It came down to her to put him out of this misery. Straightening her shoulders, she sat up a little taller. “Jamie,” she said again, even more slowly. The slower she spoke, the more time she would have to figure out exactly what to say. “I don’t think you’re allergic to him.”

His babbling paused almost immediately as he brightened, looking up at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “I’m not?”

“I’m almost certain you’re not.”

Oh, and he was beaming now. There was no way he was putting all this on. He really, genuinely had no idea. “What’s the matter with me, then?” he asked.

Forcing herself to meet his eyes, Polly tried to fill her smile with as much reassurance as she could. It was not much, she was sure, but it was better than nothing. How was she expected to tell him, when he was standing there looking so earnest? And when she had no idea how he would react? He might be frightened off by it, or be angry at the suggestion, or just be even more confused. Maybe it would even be too much for him, and they would lose him entirely. He would be caught between the awkwardness he felt around the Doctor and her own clumsy attempts at helping, and he would slip off to some new life on a new planet at the first chance he got.

Don’t be dramatic, she told herself sternly. The last thing Jamie needed was for her to get herself worked up about all the ways this could go wrong. He needed her to be calm and sensible and comforting.

“Polly?” His voice was all but quivering with trepidation. “What’s wrong with me, then?”

“It’s – oh, Jamie, it’s just that -”

How on Earth could she do it? she wondered.

How could she look him in the eyes and tell him – well, tell him that he was in love with the Doctor?

#second doctor #two/jamie #fanfic archive #my writing

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birdsong-warriors · 5 years ago

Text

"You've both eaten your traveling herbs, yes?"

"Yes, Cinderpelt." Dustpelt and Swifthawk meowed flatly in unison. The unsavory plants left a bitter taste in Swifthawk's mouth, and he gave his muzzle an extra lick at the thought of them.

They heard the call for the meeting. "Firestar's leaving." Cinderpelt meowed. "You better get going."

Swifthawk nodded, and the two toms went with their medicine cat to join the meeting. Firestar was going away with Sandstorm for a while. On a "mission from StarClan". Swifthawk didn't buy into that. Either Firestar was lying, or StarClan wanted to take their leader away. He believed both at this point.

He and Dustpelt approached as Firestar leapt from the Highrock. The ginger leader blinked, startled by their company. "Dustpelt. Swifthawk. What do you need?"

"We're going to escort you." Dustpelt sat up straight, confident like they had rehearsed.

Firestar and Sandstorm glanced awkwardly at each other.

"Not the whole way." Swifthawk quickly clarified. "Just to the barn."

Recognition flashed in Firestar's eyes, and he purred in amusement. "Of course. We aren't going that way, but you can come with as far as the moors. Deal?"

"Deal."

The four cats, plus Graystripe, started on their journey. Graystripe left at the edge of ThunderClan territory, Dustpelt and Swifthawk staying a bit seperate to let the three old friends say their goodbyes in peace. They trekked through Fourtrees, and up into WindClan territory. Here, Firestar stopped them.

"Sandstorm and I will be following the river from here. I trust you two will be alright on your own?"

Dustpelt gave a brisk nod. He and Swifthawk watched their leader disappear into the gorse.

Once out of sight, Dustpelt let out a sigh. Swifthawk didn't push him, waiting until the brown tabby started moving again on his own. "Let's go. I need to get back to my kits as soon as possible."

Swifthawk narrowed his eyes slightly. "...you didn't have to come."

"Yes, I did." Dustpelt flicked his tail in irritation. "But… let's just get there and back, shall we?"

The brothers set out across the moor, keeping alert for WindClan patrols. Neither cared to explain their intent to passing cats.

They met no trouble along their way, to the surprise of both. Night fell as they approached the old barn. Their stomachs yowled for food despite the traveling herbs they'd eaten that morning.

"I hope this is worth it." Dustpelt grumbled.

Swifthawk flicked his tattered ear in his direction but didn't respond. Some other noise caught his attention. The scuffle of heavy pawsteps. Something about the noise turned his blood to ice.

Then the barking started. Swifthawk froze in place, his mind flashing blood and bone, crunching and gnawing, his tail tearing and then giving way completely, his leg following suit, his skull breaking between his ears. I'm going to die!

"Swiftpaw!" He could hear Brightpaw's desperate shouts as a dark form snatched her off the ground by her head and shook her about.

"Let her go!" He dove from the highest ledge in Snakerocks, landing on the creature's muzzle to slash its eyes.

The worst mistake he would ever make.

"Swifthawk!"

Swifthawk blinked, suddenly aware of his own gasping breaths, claws dug into the ground. It wasn't real, it wasn't real.

But the barking was. And it was getting closer.

He shut his eyes tight, trying to force the memories away.

"We need to go!" Dustpelt's voice sounded so distant. "Come on, let's make a run for the barn!"

Barn. Right. Swifthawk shook his head to clear the thoughts away, and sprinted at Dustpelt's heels. Barn. Focus on the barn.

Slowly, the ghost scents of blood and fur faded, replaced by the strong smell of hay and mice. Swifthawk opened his eyes and looked around, taking in the comforting sight of the barn. They made it. Everything was okay.

"Who are you?" A voice called.

He and Dustpelt looked up to see a sleek black shape approach them, white tipped tail waving behind him.

"Ravenpaw." Dustpelt breathed, relief on his breath.

Ravenpaw's eyes glowed with recognition. "Dustpelt! I didn't think I'd see you so soon after the battle!" He blinked over at the black and white tom beside him.

"This is Swifthawk. Our little brother." Dustpelt purred with amusement, shoving his brother's shoulder.

"We've met." Ravenpaw's tone was uneven. Awkward.

Swifthawk shook the last vestiges of fear from his fur, awkwardly glancing up at Ravenpaw. "Hey." He managed. He felt like a mouse brain, acting so nervous when he'd been looking forward to this moment.

Ravenpaw forced a smile. "Are you two going to the Moonstone, then?"

"No, we came to see you." Dustpelt meowed. His voice grew more solemn. "I… owe you an apology. I didn't support you when you had to leave… you should be able to come back now…"

"I'm happy where I am, Dustpelt." Ravenpaw purred. "Why don't you two go hunt? You look famished. You can rest here for the night, we can all catch up!"

Swifthawk sat up, the thought of food bringing him fully to reality. He gave his head a final shake, and focused on hunting. Maybe he could actually catch something for once.

"Are you sure you don't want something? We caught plenty."

Swifthawk ignored his snarling stomach. "It's fine. I didn't catch anything, so I don't have a right to eat."

"Nonsense." Dustpelt swatted his tattered ear. "You're basically an elder now, remember? We're only too happy to hunt for you."

Swifthawk grumbled, but the plump mouse in front of him was too tempting. "...alright, if you insist."

As he devoured his food, Ravenpaw and Dustpelt caught up. "Last Firestar came by, he said kits might be born soon." Ravenpaw meowed cheerily. "I don't suppose they belong to you?"

"That's right." Dustpelt puffed his chest up with pride. "Shrewkit and Spiderkit are waiting for me back at camp."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to apologize… and I wanted to see my brother again, is there something wrong with that?"

"Not at all! Maybe you can bring your kits over when they're apprentices…"

Swifthawk tuned them out, pulling his ears back as he finished his mouse and sprawled out on the warm hay. His legs were stiff and cramping after walking all day. He wished he'd asked Cinderpelt if he could bring some poppy seeds along. The thought of walking all the way back the next day was too much to consider at the moment. He merely lay his head back, closed his eyes, and drifted off to restless sleep.

The nightmares were bad again. Barking and snarling haunted his dreams, hot breath at his heels and screaming in the distance. Suddenly, everything turned red, then black.

The soft scents of the barn woke him. He opened his eyes and glanced around, struggling to lift his head as it trembled. Dustpelt was curled nearby, but Ravenpaw was sitting in the moonlight, tail flicking occasionally.

Swifthawk forced himself onto shaky paws and padded over. "...are you alright?"

Ravenpaw glanced over. "...every time I see you, I can see you at the TigerClan camp, when Stonefur was killed. You were sitting close to Tigerstar. Just watching." He frowned at his paws. "You were one of them, weren't you?"

Swifthawk slowly lowered his hind legs behind him, not looking at Ravenpaw. "...yes."

"Why?"

"It's complicated." Swifthawk looked away. "I don't condone what Tigerstar did. At least we got one cat out of there." He raised his chin, looking back at his brother. "...how is Sasha?"

"I don't know. She left one day last moon. Her kits were doing well. One didn't make it, but the other two were healthy when she left."

Swifthawk smiled slightly. "I hope she's okay."

"She named her son after you, you know."

"Wait, what?"

Ravenpaw purred. "She named him Hawk. He was a very enthusiastic kit, very attached to his mother. She said she might take a chance at the Clans. Maybe you'll find her in ThunderClan."

"Mm. If she left a moon ago, we would have seen her by now, I think. I'll keep an ear out for her."

They sat quietly, watching the moon rise. Ravenpaw settled down beside Swifthawk, beginning to groom the top of his head. Swifthawk revelled in the company, slowly lowering his chin to his paws and drifting off to sleep.

#holy cats this is long #bird writes things #swifthawk au #swifthawk #dustpelt #ravenpaw #crap i forgot this was a request and Im supposed to attach it to the ask #oh well

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perfeggso · 4 years ago

Text

till the sun’s seeing through my eyes (yumark)

hitting for six

Yuta and Mark are next-door neighbors who grew up together, joined at the hip until Yuta went off to college. Due to their four-year age gap, Mark’s freshman year at the same school marks the halfway point of an unprecedented amount of time apart. Yuta is sure he can handle it, until Mark’s arrival home for spring break makes him wonder if the fondness he has for his friend might be blooming quite literally into something stronger. It’s up to him to handle the consequences.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Masterlist

Characters: Yuta x Mark + NCT ensemble, other SM (and non-SM (?)) idols tbd, character families

Genres: heavy angst, fluff, Hanahaki!AU, small town!AU, slight Witchcraft/Magic!AU, College!AU

Warnings: blood and gore, mentions of death, disease, vomiting, college-typical alcohol use, swearing

Rating: T

Length: 8.3k

Yuta twirled the stick of rock candy he’d picked up at the market around between his lips, enjoying how it felt rough on his tongue and filled his mouth with the flavor of unadulterated sugar. He checked his phone – no new messages.

He tapped the toe of his sneakers against the linoleum floor of Kun’s coffeeshop and drummed his hands against the seafoam counter before pulling the candy from his lips with a pop and dunking it in his glass of mint tea. All around him, the clinking, hissing, and chatter of a well-liked café filled his ears, and the arousing scent of coffee steam kept him a fidgety kind of alert. On second thought, replace “alert” with “distracted.”

“Did you hear me, Yuta?” Sicheng was saying, sitting at the table nearest the espresso machine and picking at a mini egg custard tart. Yuta had not heard him, that much was evident.

Yuta sighed with some effort, then made a fake sorry face. “No – no, I apologize, babe, I didn’t.”

Sicheng rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it wasn’t important.” He took a large bite of his tart, pale, buttery crumbs affixing to his lips.

“Neko latte!” Kun interrupted, setting a white coffee cup in front of Yuta, the frothed milk on top of it shaped like a stubby-tailed cat that wiggled as the cup moved. Yuta had to restrain himself from jiggling its foam butt into oblivion. Kun returned a moment later with a plate. “Aaaand, let’s see, one slice of orange poppy seed bread.” He dropped his smiling customer service face momentarily as he leaned in towards Yuta. “I thought you said you could handle calling out the orders. That was my condition for letting you behind the counter, wasn’t it?”

Yuta shrugged, repeating the order at double Kun’s original volume and smirking when a customer instantly shot out of her seat to come collect it. Yuta downed his tea, burning his throat, and stuck the melting candy back into his mouth as she made her way over, pushing the now-empty cup forward as an encouragement to leave a tip in it, which the poor girl did. Kun snatched the sticky bill from the cup and shook it out, disapproval contorting his face as he voiced his disappointment with a simple “nope.”

“But Kun, I watched her earlier and she didn’t leave a tip when she ordered,” Yuta protested, making himself laugh until it was threatening to become a cough. Dammit. He pulled in a shaky breath. “I’m only trying to help.”

Kun pointed to the seating area. “Out.”

Yuta sulked his way to the chair opposite Sicheng, noting on his way that it was still pouring not insignificantly outside. Yuta had gotten off work early because of the rain; the indoor soccer field had been reserved weeks earlier for the high school team. Instead, he’d taken his kids to Yukhei’s gym for a short workout and then sent them home, choosing to wile away the rest of his time waiting for Mark with his buddies over a warm beverage.

“Has he responded yet?” Sicheng asked.

“No,” Yuta pouted. He’d sent Mark a text nearly twenty-five minutes ago saying he was ahead of schedule and to come meet him at Kun’s shop. “Ugh, wait, I’m sorry. What were you saying earlier? Nothing you say is unimportant, friend.”

Sicheng looked like he wanted to smack Yuta and hug him at the same time. Yuta was used to this.

“I was only teasing you for missing my speech last night because no one cut you off,” Sicheng clarified, wiping his hands against each other once he’d finished eating.

The memory of heaving in his bathroom in an attempt to extract whatever was obstructing his airways hit Yuta like an unforeseen ocean wave. He nodded slowly, schooling his face to pretend to be irritated rather than scared. He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but not even he knew what the real issue was, and it would undoubtedly get sorted, so why worry people?

Yuta made his face into the disappointment emoji. “Mm-hm,” he said. “Well since you can only process my suffering as it pertains to you, maybe you’ll cut me off next time you have something important to say.”

Sicheng raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s feeling bitchy today,” he observed. “This is because your boyfriend’s not texting back, isn’t it?”

Yuta scoffed. “Boyfriend,” he huffed in disbelief, but the word stirred a sickened feeling inside him. He chose to ignore that. “Yeah, it is,” he teased, “you jealous?”

Sicheng shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “It means you’ll let me be for a couple weeks.”

Yuta laughed, his body once again nearly giving into coughing. Like, choking on one’s dinner and needing the Heimlich kind of coughing. Instead of letting that happen and calling attention to himself, he doused his throat in the contents of a glass of water.

His breathing had been a bit better since he’d spoken with his mother that morning, but the problem wasn’t gone, and the raw coughing fits that started the day before were only growing more frequent. A particularly violent one had gripped him during practice, scaring some of his kids enough that he’d run away to the bathroom to get it under control. Thankfully, Yukhei had been in another room.

Yuta came from a tradition of hedge witches, of which his mother was a shining example. She ran an apothecary in town with his father; handling the medicine and potions side of it while he handled the business angle. She was a skilled potion-maker and healer, and she had a keen sense of spiritual effects on the physical. She was often able to gain insights that seemed so spot-on that Yuta had no choice but to believe whatever she told him to do.

She’d encouraged her children to utilize tarot cards from an early age and endeavored ever since to teach them everything she knew. Now and then, having someone so spiritually inclined as a parent could be burdensome, but it was times like these – when Yuta felt something strange and unwelcome stirring in him – that he felt he was lucky.

When Yuta had gone to the main house that morning, he found his mother in the kitchen, making banana pancakes as his little sister looked over her advanced biology homework. The high school still had a week left before spring break.

“Hi Haruna,” Yuta greeted, shoving her face softly into her papers and receiving a well-earned glare.

“Good morning, dingus. You really shouldn’t be partying when you have work in the morning.”

Haruna was a senior, less than a year younger than Mark (a fact which regularly escaped Yuta’s mind) and possessed an attitude problem – though one quite different from Yuta’s. That morning, she wore a long, eggplant-purple frock dress with lots of heavy eyeliner and her hair in a helmet-like bob. She might have been sartorially challenged and a bit of a bitch in Yuta’s view, but she was also his adorable little sister, and a veritable genius, he had to admit.

Yuta went to the fridge and pulled out an apricot yogurt. “I assure you I can handle myself,” he said, grabbing one of a collection of mismatched spoons and plopping it into his breakfast. “The last thing I need is a seventeen-year-old lecturing me on alcohol.”

Haruna tried to flick some of the syrup on her fork into her brother’s hair but missed. “I can’t wait until Momoka comes home to visit,” she grumbled. “Maybe you’ll listen to her.”

Yuta’s mother gave her youngest and middle child a heavy look of disapproval as she flipped a pancake with a wet, resounding plop. The action itself communicated as much authority as any scolding words could have. Yuta just smiled sweetly, digging into his yogurt.

“Yuta, dear,” she began, “can I interest you in some pancakes?”

Yuta shook his head, feeling a little guilty, but he was rarely very hungry in the mornings. “No, this is enough for me,” he said. His mother smiled. It was the same smile Haruna would flash when she was about to tease him.

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way over here just to bother your studious sister and refuse my cooking, so there has to be something else, hm? I’m right, aren’t I?”

Yuta sighed. As usual, she was indeed correct. “As a matter of fact, there is something bothering me.”

His mother listened attentively as he recounted the last day’s events: the asthma scare, trying to use the potion she’d taught him with a prayer, his concern over the reading he’d had that morning. All the while, she finished shaping her stack of pancakes and leaned on her elbows, steam rising from the food and swirling in front of her paisley house dress, fluffy hair, purple kerchief, and concerned face.

“It sounds to me like you’re having anxiety about change,” she offered once he’d finished. “You always tend to have flare-ups during transition periods.”

“Yeah,” Haruna cut in, spearing a chunk of pancake and narrowly escaping dropping it on her school papers, “remember when you were a freshman and you had a panic attack before coming home for winter break? You said you could hardly breathe all night and that you didn’t think you wanted to come back.”

Haruna seemed a little too casual with that difficult memory for Yuta’s liking, although she was right that he hadn’t forgotten. He pinched his eyebrows together.

“Is this a transition period though?” he asked. Everything for him was more or less the same as it had been all year.

His mother nodded. “I’d say so. Some of your younger friends are coming home, and Taeil will be going back to the city soon. There are a lot of moving pieces in your life at the moment, dear. I don’t think it's at all strange that you’re feeling off and maybe hiding some things from yourself.”

“Alternately,” quipped Haruna as their mother went to fetch a cloudy, pastel purple concoction she had sitting in a beaker by the window, “you’re just a drama queen.”

Yuta started. “Wanna get your butt kicked by a college athlete?” he threatened. Haruna stuck her tongue out at him.

“You mean former intramural college athlete?”

“That’s enough!”

Yuta and Haruna both turned to face their mother. She looked like her hair would be suspended in exasperation if she were in a Ghibli Movie. Yuta knew that meant it was time to Shut Up. Oops.

She sighed, running her hands over the lip of the beaker in her hand and muttering to herself to calm down. Then, she slid it forward to her son.

“Bring this to work with you, Yuta,” she advised, voice still stern. “I made it fresh this morning for the shop, but I think you could use it. It has lavender, mint, chamomile, soy oil, salts, and I’ve charged it with moon water. It’s something I’ve been messing around with for dealing with anxiety and stress during liminal periods in life.” Yuta nodded, listening attentively and twirling the little vial in between his fingers. She went on. “Then later whenever you have time, I want you to sit alone with your confusion for a little while. I think that might give you more insight into what is driving this spiritually and subconsciously. Try not to smother it, whatever it is.”

Of course his mom’s advice was essentially “meditate.” Why had he even bothered to ask? He nodded one more time, subdued, and dropped the vial of pale liquid into his pocket. He would put it into a water bottle and bring it along.

Yuta finished his yogurt and chucked the container into the recycling. “Thank you, Mom,” he said, snagging a pancake on his way out of the kitchen just to win a little more of her favor. “And have a good day, Haruna.”

“You too, dingus.”

“Tell me if you’re feeling better tonight!” his mother called after him, finishing off with a mild threat: “And I’ll be able to tell if you didn’t follow my directions!”

Yuta sighed for what felt like the eightieth time all day, watching the café’s glass door from over Sicheng’s shoulder for any signs of Mark. He didn’t know how to summon people or things, but he half-imagined that he did, concentrating so hard on the door that it was making his eyes cross. And in a matter of seconds, it worked (or, at least, the universe gave the illusion of it working).

Mark rushed into the coffeeshop, looking harried and tugging a cumbersome guitar case along with him which he tried desperately to protect with a too-small umbrella. The image put Yuta at attention, smiling.

“I’m so sorry!” Mark spluttered as he rushed through the door. “I was practicing, and I didn’t check my phone!”

“Whoa there,” Kun warned from behind the counter. “This does not need to be advertised to my entire clientele.”

Mark shook out his umbrella and shoved it into the holder in the entryway, checking with Yuta that they planned on staying for at least a little while and apologizing sheepishly to Kun.

He sat down at the table with Yuta and Sicheng as Yuta grinned at him.

“Don’t be sorry, Markie-boy,” Yuta said, poking Mark in the side and making him almost giggle his way out of his chair. As the chair tipped and then slingshotted violently back to its starting position from Mark regaining his balance, it clattered so loudly that it attracted more concerned looks than Mark had when he’d busted through the door. Yuta hardly seemed to register this as he gushed about how devoted his friend was to his craft that he would haul his equipment through a rainstorm. Kun rolled his eyes and huffed in defeat at yet another disruption.

“Mark, the usual?” he asked, and Mark nodded after nervously confirming Yuta didn’t have other plans for them to go eat somewhere.

Only then did he allow himself to settle in, peeling off his damp jacket and balancing his guitar case against the side of his chair.

“Did you carry that all the way here?” Sicheng asked, and Yuta shot him an obvious look.

“Of course he did,” he replied for his friend, and Sicheng glared at him. “The kid can’t drive, after all. Just like you.”

Mark nodded in confirmation as Kun set a mug of hot chocolate and a cream cheese bagel in front of him. “I love being referred to as ‘the kid’ as if I’m not present,” he snarked. “Also, thanks, Kun.”

“Sure thing.”

Yuta crunched absently at the end of his rock candy. “Aw, don’t go trying to make me feel bad when you forced me to wait for thirty-five minutes and didn’t even tell me you were on your way. It’s like you want to keep me in constant suspense with your little surprises.” Mark scowled, but his mouth was too stuffed with bagel to form a retort, so Yuta went on. “Anyway, you got a guitar in there?”

Mark swallowed. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re just impressed you lugged it all the way here,” Sicheng clarified, trying to clear the air of Yuta’s usual bitchiness. “Surely, you brought it for a reason.”

Mark clapped his hands against each other to rid them of crumbs, body going taut with excitement.

“Actually yes!” he mouthed around his food. “I did have a reason. I wanted to show off what I’ve been practicing!”

“Oooooh!” Yuta buzzed, applauding preemptively at hyper-speed. “You might want to check with the stickler in charge though,” he warned, stage whispering and indicating towards Kun. The subject of the jest frowned at his table of friends.

“I can hear you, Yuta,” he said, “and it’s fine. Just give me a minute to turn the speakers off.”

Soon enough, Mark had extracted his guitar from its case and had it over his knee, strumming experimentally to warm up and drawing the attention of most of the customers behind him.

“Don’t look now, Mark,” Sicheng began. “But it looks like you’ve roped yourself into a little concert.”

“A little what now?” he asked, immediately going against the advice he’d just received and turning around to meet the gazes of at least fifteen people he only marginally knew. “Oh, uh, okay. This is fine.”

Yuta smiled to himself as he watched his friend adjust his fingers over the metal strings and clear his throat, red face betraying that he might not, in fact, be fine.

Pretty soon though, he was finger-picking his way through the intro to Frank Ocean’s “Cayendo.” Once Mark started singing, Yuta found himself lulled into an admiring trance at the smooth sweetness of Mark’s voice. Mark was usually shy about singing solo, but he’d been working on it and Yuta loved that he had gained some confidence. The fact that the song was in a language Yuta couldn’t understand served even further to pull him under its calm spell.

He pretended to swoon at the little performance, rolling his eyes around and fanning himself theatrically. “Ooh, Markie, take me now,” he joked, just loud enough for his table to hear and no one else. Mark’s ears went red and he struggled to sing through a giggle.

Right in the middle of the song though, Mark sang a stanza that Yuta did understand. It ended with a melancholy plea of love:

When I still really, really love you, like I do

If you won't, then I will

If you can't, then I will

Is it love to keep it from you?

It was such a sad sentiment. Yuta thought that if he were a more sentimental person, and under different circumstances, he would have started to cry. Though, maybe he wasn’t as unsentimental as he thought he was…

Mark transitioned back to singing in Spanish and Yuta took the moment to lose himself less in his friend’s voice and more in the space around them: the chatter of impressed coffee-sippers, the whirring of the espresso machine, the soft and appreciative expressions on his friends’ faces. It was almost as sweet as the leftover sugar which coated the inside of his mouth – almost sweet enough for him to forget that some kind of repression within him was causing him vascular stress. Almost; almost.

Mark plucked the last note of the song and the café broke into a pitter-patter of applause which echoed the pounding of rain outside, and in that moment, as if to remind him of the tenuousness of his almosts, Yuta found himself hurled into the most intense pain he’d felt in the last twenty-four hours.

He bent himself over and started retching into a napkin. It was the same sensation he’d gotten the night before at the party, when he’d locked himself in the bathroom and coughed himself raw into the white sink, trying to force something out that just wouldn’t budge. He felt like he had a copper wire weaving through his muscles, and someone was sending shocks of electricity through it.

Sicheng and Mark stared at him in concern and Sicheng pushed a glass of water his way. He choked out his thanks before downing it in one go, once again taking note of the clump of – something – which drifted back down along with the liquid. By the time he had himself back under control, both his friends were posing some variation on the same ‘you okay?’ question.

“Yeah, yeah,” he lied. “Just aspirated some very sharp candy.”

Sicheng winced. “Ouch,” he said. “At least you had the courtesy to wait until Mark was finished.”

Yuta stuck his tongue out, but the way his friend went so casually back to teasing him actually made him feel a little better.

“I know the Heimlich maneuver!” Mark said, a stupidly proud grin crossing his face as he set his guitar back into its case and puffed his chest out involuntarily. “So I could have saved you if it came to that.”

Yuta smiled weakly. “That’s very reassuring, Mark.”

“NBD.” Yuta groaned, the sharp pain from only moments ago leaving him just as quickly as it had come. He cringed. Had Mark really just said “NBD?” Whatever. Mark continued.

“Seriously though, what did you guys think?”

“It was really good,” Sicheng said, “and I would say, a glowing testament to your four years of high school Spanish.”

Mark snickered. “What about you, Yutaaa?”

“Well if you couldn’t tell by the way I reacted at the beginning, I loved it! Really, like your voice just keeps getting better and better.”

Mark placed a hand over his heart, meaning to indicate that Yuta’s compliment had touched him.

“Aren’t you not supposed to be using instruments though?” Sicheng chimed. “I mean, considering you’re an a cappella person?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Very funny,” he said. “But thanks, guys. I think I might play it live sometime on the Serotonin Hour.” That was the name of the radio show Johnny had left to him upon graduation.

“You know,” Yuta began, rapping his fingers against the table, “when Johnny willed his time slot to you, I don’t think he expected you’d use it for such self-serving purposes.”

Mark rolled his eyes even farther into his head this time. “It’s an hour where I impose my music taste on the small group of people who actually bother to tune in. What could be more self-serving?”

Yuta clicked his tongue. Mark had a point.

“Anyway,” said Mark, hopping to his feet, “what do you want to do, Yuta?”

***

Since it was raining out, they decided they would have to stay mostly indoors, so they resolved to wander around the market hall until they came up with a more exciting activity, Yuta letting Mark store his guitar in the trunk of his car while they perused. Sicheng was invited along too, but he had a dance class to run in half an hour and needed to review his lesson plan ahead of time, so it was just the two of them.

Well, it was just the two of them until they got to the Jung family farmstand at the end of the long, warehouse-like building. Jaehyun sat behind it, writing something into a notebook and looking so bored that his face was practically melting into the hand supporting it.

“Oh, thank god,” he said when he saw his friends approaching. “It’s been such a slow day I was ready to choke myself out just to have something to do.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Yuta guffawed at his friend as Mark nodded slowly.

“Nice to see you too, man,” Mark said.

“Want anything?”

Yuta and Mark surveyed their options: a selection of dairy products, meat, and eggs in a set of coolers, and a table covered in artichokes, celery, pears, asparagus, broccoli, brussels sprouts, cabbages, and a veritable rainbow of root vegetables. As usual, the Jung family farm’s output looked delicious. Maybe Yuta would get something for his parents to put in tonight’s dinner. He grabbed a bundle of radishes by the leaves and shoved them at his friend with a grin.

Mark, on the other hand, knew immediately what he would go for.

“And, uh, can I get a banana milk?”

Jaehyun nodded as Yuta gave his younger friend his best side-eye.

“You just drank a giant hot chocolate. Haven’t you had enough dairy for one day?”

Mark pouted, fishing for his wallet, and Yuta couldn’t help but smile at the way Mark’s eyes looked like shiny tea saucers. He could be devilishly cute sometimes. Cute enough to make Yuta want to buy shit for him, which he did, paying for the radishes and the milk before Mark even had the opportunity to complain.

“Drink up!”

Mark glared. “Fine. I’ll just sneak-buy you something next time.”

Yuta wobbled his head like an anime heroine as he spoke. “Oh, so I’ll get a next time? Man, this date is going so well!” he said, and Mark’s ears flushed for the second time in thirty minutes. A niggling voice in the back of Yuta’s head told him he wanted to see Mark like that more often. He brushed that idea away, not quite knowing how to process it.

“Whatever,” Mark mumbled as Jaehyun looked on in his usual casual detachment. Yuta turned his attention back to him.

“By the way, Jae, where are your parents? Can’t they come relieve you of your existential dread?”

Jaehyun blew a puff of air at his bangs. “I wish,” he responded. “They’re out of town for the weekend though, so I’m left to suffer alone. Oh – which reminds me! Can you go check on Sugarfoot and Lacey for me? They probably need their water troughs refilled right about now. And besides, I’m sure they miss Mark.”

Yuta and Mark agreed easily. Everyone loved those horses, even if Sugarfoot could be a pain in the ass. When Yuta was a teenager, she had apparently decided he’d lived long enough, because she tried to buck him off until Yuta was pretty sure he’d suffered acute whiplash. Besides Jaehyun, Johnny was the only person she seemed to tolerate (and tolerate simply meant she was a bitch to him rather than straight-up murderous), but alas, Johnny wasn’t around.

“Perfect,” Jaehyun said. “I’d do it myself, but everyone here knows my parents and they’d definitely somehow manage to tell them I’d abandoned my post. You know where the keys to the stable are and everything, right?”

“Yup!”

And with that, Yuta and Mark left Jaehyun to return to pondering auto-asphyxiation.

It had stopped raining outside, and the sky was in the process of clearing from a mournful grey to a clear periwinkle, like a windshield-wiper was slowly swiping across it to rid it of clouds. They ran into Taeil on the way to Yuta’s car, in the middle of walking five dogs of varying sizes and breeds.

Naturally, Mark became immediately preoccupied by the tangle of fur attached tenuously to Taeil’s wrist by a set of leashes. The cute scene made Yuta’s chest go tight with fondness.

Yuta told Taeil they’d missed him at the party the night before as Mark rolled around on the wet ground, getting his face smothered by a particularly friendly Chow Chow and laughing like his lungs were about to burst out of his chest.

“I know, I’m sorry!” Taeil said, trying not to let himself get tugged around. “It was just last minute and I’d already been roped into cooking for my family, and we had friends over – bad timing.”

Yuta waved him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll only hold it against you forever. But when do you go back to the city?”

“Next week,” Taeil replied, leaning down awkwardly to save Mark from five rough tongues. Taeil didn’t have a dog himself (although he did have a goose in his backyard, a fact which Yuta was never not perplexed by) but his family owned the local pet shop and he always had dog-walker duty when he was home. It was also how he made money when he was in high school. “We should definitely get together before I go back though!” Taeil continued. “You guys can help me make this pasta dish I’ve been wanting to try. Sound good Mark?”

Mark got up, brushing the wet dirt off his backside. “What? Oh yeah, for sure! I’m always down to eat – and to see you, Taeil. I didn’t forget about you.”

Taeil looked dryly at his younger friend. “Yeah, of course. But listen, Mark, it’s really good luck we’re home at the same time. I need you to tell me all about how the Aca-Fellas are doing.” Mark nodded shyly. Taeil had been the star of the a cappella group at his college, so he’d had plenty of run-ins with the Fellas at competitions. His own superiority at singing was something it was at times difficult to get him to shut up about. Taeil continued:

“Anyway, I should be going. These guys are getting squirrely, and I don’t want them to do their business right here. I’ll see you two around, I guess. Enjoy the rest of your date!”

Hey, Yuta thought, that’s my joke. Somehow it made him feel weird to hear someone else use it.

***

They were at Jaehyun’s stables after a short drive, and they found the keys easily. Mark scratched lovingly at Lacey’s chin as Yuta filled the troughs with water. Then, they decided it was as good a time as any to see if Johnny was free to FaceTime. He was.

“Heyoooo,” Johnny greeted once his pixelated face flashed onto Yuta’s phone. Yuta laughed. His friend looked happy and healthy. “Oh what? You have Mark with you? Sweet!”

They caught up on Johnny’s life for a few minutes; he was having a great time on his own, but he missed everyone and couldn’t wait to come home in the summer.

“Hurry home,” Yuta joked, getting up from the bail of hay he’d been sitting on because Sugarfoot was cribbing on the door to her stable. “I think Taeyong is wilting without you here.”

Johnny chuckled indulgently. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He gasped and his image froze in the exaggerated reaction face he’d pulled, making Mark squeak with laughter. “Is that my favorite girlie?” came his crackling voice.

Yuta held the phone up to Sugarfoot, nudging her head a bit to get her to detach her teeth from the wood. “Sure is.”

Johnny asked if Jaehyun was there, so Yuta informed him on their friend’s predicament. Then Johnny addressed Mark, telling him he should try braiding Sugarfoot’s dark mane – he’d found she had come to enjoy it. Mark, being the least experienced with Jaehyun’s bitch of a mare, immediately fell for it and tried, causing Sugarfoot to squeal and jerk her neck away from his touch. He fell back on his butt in surprise and Johnny cackled through Yuta’s phone speaker.

“Aw, I see college hasn’t made you less gullible, Markie-boy.”

“It most certainly has not,” Yuta confirmed, and Mark attempted a glare, but it only ended up looking like what he’d done when Johnny tried to teach him how to flirt that one time.

Johnny continued. “Anyway, Mark how are you really? I don’t care about this old hag; Yuta, give the phone to Mark.”

Yuta handed over the phone with a casual threat of murder.

Mark was doing well. Johnny asked if his a cappella group had let him rap yet. Mark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, leaning against the stable door right next to Lacey.

“Naw, not yet,” he said. “Just beatboxing for now. Eventually...”

Johnny shrugged. “It’s okay. When you’re a senior you can run the group and do whatever the hell you want. And, when they see how good you are, that’ll really show ’em.”

Yuta watched the conversation unfold, reveling in the warm feeling he got from watching some of his favorite people interact.

“Are you doing the Serotonin Hour justice, by the way?” Johnny asked. “Playing that good shit?”

Mark fumbled around a response so Yuta cut in, yelling from off-screen. “He’s great, Johnny! Wish you were here to tune in because I think he might be surpassing you in quality already.”

Yuta heard Johnny scoff as Mark looked embarrassed. “Impossible!” Yuta leaned in next to Mark and Johnny asked about his own parents.

Yuta frowned. “Can’t you just call them and ask how they’re doing?”

“I did! I do!” Johnny said, exasperated. “I wanted to hear it from a third party though, otherwise all they tell me is ‘we’re good, John, we’re good. Everything’s just fine.’ Know what I mean?”

Mark answered. Mr. and Mrs. Seo were doing just as well as they let on to their son, as far as he could tell. This seemed to satisfy him.

Johnny had to go soon after this, so Yuta and Mark took the opportunity to get back in Yuta’s car and drive to his house, where brand new purple crocuses had pushed through the dirt in the front yard.

Yuta led Mark straight to his loft when they arrived, happy to finally have some actual alone time with his friend. He didn’t know where this territorial streak was coming from. He usually did it as a joke – especially with Mark and Sicheng – but all of a sudden, he didn’t feel like he was joking anymore. He shrugged it off mentally. It probably had something to do with his repression, he figured, realizing he hadn’t followed all his mother’s instructions yet. Oh well, the meditation could wait.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” he offered. “We can hang out all day that way, until you’re absolutely fed up with me.”

Mark giggled as they traipsed through the wet grass, passing the fresh crocuses.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” Mark agreed. “I’ll text my parents and ask them.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to,” Yuta remarked, pointing straight ahead to where Mr. Lee stood in his driveway, getting ready to go out. “Mr. Lee!”

Mark’s dad turned around, startled for a moment, before waving.

“Your son is eating dinner over here!” Yuta yelled. “We’ll take good care of him!”

Mark laughed nervously at Yuta’s side as his dad consented. Yuta had to admit that his life was a little emptier when Mark’s ridiculous giggle-fits weren’t a daily feature.

Back in Yuta’s room, Mark hooked his phone up to Yuta’s Bluetooth speaker and played one of his most recent DJ set playlists while Yuta sat at his vanity and yanked a radish from the bunch he’d bought earlier from Jaehyun, biting off a chunk. It tasted watery and sharp.

“What are you doing?” Mark protested. “I thought those were for your parents.”

“I’m only taste-testing,” Yuta defended, mouth full of radish. “Calm down.” He poised the other half of the radish as if he were about to overhand chuck it in Mark’s direction. That was, in fact, what he planned to do. “Open up.”

Mark’s eyes went wide. “But it has your spit on it!”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.”

Mark nodded in acquiescence, opening his mouth for a split second before thinking of something else to worry about.

“This seems dangerous though, like what if I choke on it?”

“Then that’s really too bad because I do not know the Heimlich,” Yuta snarked. “Try not to.”

Mark opened his mouth again and Yuta threw the radish in an arc the few feet between them. Mark shuffled a little to align his mouth and caught the radish, doing a little dance of victory when he realized he’d succeeded.

“Yoooooo!” he yelled around his mouthful.

Yuta clapped, he remarked to himself, like a cheerleader congratulating his boyfriend. Whatever. He wasn’t above that.

“That’s what I call synchronicity!” he said.

Then, Yuta decided to experiment with combinations of the new earrings he’d bought recently while he and Mark talked. They ended up mostly reminiscing about the stupid hijinks they’d gotten themselves into over the years: the time they got drunk and went skinny-dipping in the bioluminescence despite a slew of recent shark sightings (Mark kept trying to drift off into the mist and when they heard a loud splash near them in the water, Yuta asked Mark if he’d retrieve his dick if it got bitten off. “Is that something you would want me to do?” Mark had responded); the time they went cliff-diving as a group and somehow Yuta managed to injure himself while stumbling over rocks to take a picture and then tried to tell everyone who hadn’t been there that he’d hurt himself jumping into the water so he wouldn’t sound like an idiot; the time Mark tried weed for the first time and became convinced he was suffering an aneurysm, begging Yuta to make him a potion for it; all the times Yuta and Mark travelled to dance competitions together as kids and shared hotel rooms, planning their entire futures as they waited to get sleepy. They had promised to always have houses next to each other, and that their families and spouses would be forever close.

Yuta sometimes found that, with long-time friends he didn’t get to see as often as he would have liked, it was easier to reminisce than to create new, whole memories. It had nothing to do with Mark’s value as a friend, and they still came away from every summer with plenty of additional experiences and stories, but Yuta hated the feeling he sometimes got of their rhythm being off during the shorter breaks. He worried their friendship would calcify into something past tense. But then again, he figured, a deep understanding like what he and Mark shared didn’t need constant updates.

Being with Mark sometimes took him back to being eighteen – right before he left for college – and in a way he liked that as much as he liked his friend. He just got an occasional sinking feeling that they were missing each other’s landmarks. It was irrational, but he couldn’t deny it.

Mark had moved on to updates about his friend group as Yuta held a thin and dangly silver earring against his lobe. Mark nodded in approval and Yuta worked to stifle a sudden bout of coughing. Ah yes. There it is.

Later, at the dinner table, Yuta hardly got a word in edgewise with his parents and sister grilling Mark on how his first year was wrapping up: was his friend group holding up? Yup. Did he like his second semester classes? He did. Was he still sure he wanted to pursue a conservation major? Yes. Did he know who he’d room with the next year? He was going to try to room with his friend Yeri, but they had to sign a consent form for co-ed housing first. When was his next a cappella performance? The big one was in late April. Did he have a significant other?

Yuta almost hacked up a spoonful of his root vegetable soup before glaring at his mom, the source of that query.

“Aish, why does everyone wanna know that?” asked Mark, setting his spoon down for a second. “Sorry, it’s just really funny to me. No, I don’t.”

Yuta looked across the table to his mother and caught her sending an irritated look right back at him. He figured it was probably related to the vague threat she’d made earlier that she would know if he didn’t follow all her advice by the time he got home in the evening.

Once they’d finished eating, the boys helped wash the dishes and Mrs. Nakamoto gifted Mark a little vial of her signature lucky potion for him to use during finals.

“Bye, little dingus,” Haruna called to Mark as he and Yuta were on their way out for a quick post-prandial stroll. Yuta turned around.

“Don’t talk to your elder that way!” She rolled her eyes.

Outside, it was fully dark, and a distinct late-winter chill tinged the air enough that Yuta had to burrow his chin into the collar of his bomber jacket. Rather than the chatter of crickets they would have heard at that hour during summertime, the air sung with the hush of breeze rustling the pines and the distant break of ocean waves. Yuta thought bittersweetly about how the next time he’d see Mark for an extended time, the crickets would be back.

“Sorry for all the prying,” Yuta grumbled as the two made their way to the little pedestrian suspension bridge over the river on the edge of town. The river led to the ocean eventually, but inland, it felt thin and closed-off all the same. This bridge passing over it was one of Yuta and Mark’s favorite spots to sit and chat late at night without anyone hearing. In fact, it was that type of spot for most of the town’s young residents.

“Don’t be,” Mark said jovially, kicking his feet leisurely as he walked. “I expect it at this point. Bet you remember what that’s like.”

Yuta nodded. He did.

“You know,” Mark began, “it’s actually sorta calming to get the same questions over and over again. Cuz like, for some reason I keep getting really stressed out when I come home. I don’t know why…It’s kind of annoying.”

Yuta pointed at Mark in recognition as he chimed in. “No – I know exactly what you mean. I used to get that too. Remember when I had that panic attack?”

Mark nodded. “Oooh yeah, man, I do. You were calling me at like two in the morning and you sounded like you were crying. I had no idea what you were on about. But I guess now I understand more.”

Yuta smiled to himself as the sound of the river added its own particular hush to the mix of natural noises. He tried not to take too much comfort in the idea that his friend was now suffering the same way he had. At least it was a pretty privileged form of suffering…

Yuta took a deep breath, looking up and trying to find stars in the hazy dark sky.

“My mom calls it liminality. She says it's natural to feel spiritually detached at times of transition. It’s like your identity is thrown into flux and it can be hard to balance your competing selves all at once. You’ve got your independent college self and my little Markie boy who lives with his parents and can’t drive.” At this, Yuta grabbed Mark and tried to give him a noogie. “I think that’s what’s stressing you out. Might do you some good to recognize it and hear it verbalized.”

Mark laughed. They were approaching the entrance to the bridge. “I guess that makes sense. I – wait.”

Yuta took a second to register that Mark had cut himself off and stopped walking. He was staring into the distance towards the bridge, so Yuta followed his gaze. He blinked a few times in the dark, but once his vision focused, he noticed what Mark had been looking at: a dark lump in the center of the suspended walkway. It seemed to be moving – writhing almost – and Mark placed a finger over his mouth to indicate they should be silent. Little groans and giggles emanated from the wiggly lump over the rush of the water. It was a person – no – people.

Yuta felt himself about to start laughing, and he didn’t want to disrupt whatever moment was going on in front of them, so he grabbed Mark’s arm and hauled him away, running back towards their houses and cracking up the minute they thought they were out of earshot.

Mark tried to catch his breath from all the exertion. “Were, were they –”

“Fucking?” Yuta finished for him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Mark leaned over his knees. It was the same position Yuta had used several times in the last day to combat his lung issue. “Shit, man,” he said. “I was not expecting that.”

Yuta shook his head in disbelief. “Me neither. Here; on that note, let’s get you home. The Lees deserve their son back.”

“Sounds good. That’s enough excitement for one night.”

***

Yuta tiptoed back into the kitchen before going to the barn to sleep, opening the fridge to sneak another few bites of the raspberry meringue cake his mom had bought on a whim from the Seos while shopping for dinner.

Her voice in the dark startled him so badly that he jolted against the refrigerator shelving, rattling a whole row of bottled drinks and sauces and causing a racket.

“Holy shit, mom, you’re going to kill me,” he said, holding a hand against his chest like a 19th century gentlewoman.

“Come to the living room with me, Yuta,” she said, bypassing his griping.

Yuta gulped, following his mother’s directions until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her lounge chair.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d notice if you blew off my instructions?” she asked, sipping from a cup of tea. It smelled like chamomile and it was making Yuta sleepy.

“I know,” he said, “but I was with Mark all day and I didn’t want it to be weird for him while I like, went off into a corner to ruminate on my inner demons or whatever. I was still gonna do it. Also, I drank the potion you gave me.”

“I understand Yuta,” she said, cutting him off before he could spew any more excuses, “but you’re going to do it right now. I want you to feel better.”

“I already do feel a little better,” Yuta said, though he knew he was lying. His mom knew it too, because she gave him a skeptical sideways glance.

“You looked like you were holding in a coughing spell all through dinner,” she informed him. Had he? Yikes… “So, close your eyes.”

Yuta knew how this was going to go, but still, he let his mom lead him through breathing and visualization, focusing on tracking and changing the color and temperature of his internal energy as it passed through each of his limbs, his gut, hit neck and shoulders, his head, and finally, to his lungs. He tried to pull air in until it touched the extremity of them, boundaries of his body going fuzzy in concentration, but it was difficult for him; shaky almost.

His mother’s voice floated into his consciousness, instructing him to imagine the hollow of his mind and let thoughts begin to trickle in without obstruction; to let them come and go without judgement.

He thought of what Mark had been saying on their walk and how it resonated with his own experiences, how it frustrated him that he could never quite recreate the comfort of his and Mark’s dynamic when he visited him at school and they were with all Mark’s first year friends (at least Kun and Jaehyun were around at times, but still). He thought about how weird it felt for all his friends to be scattered around. Mostly though, he thought about the strange burning tightness that had been threatening to cut off his air supply over the last day whenever he dwelled too much on thoughts of his best friend, on observing him, on feeling lucky to know him.

Next thing he knew, he was coughing aggressively again, dragging in empty breaths whenever his throat gave him a break from its violent convulsing. The metal wires felt like they’d made their way into his heart. Neither his breathing nor his coughing was satisfactory though; there was still something stuck. What on earth was wrong with him?

Yuta latched back onto the sound of his mother’s voice as he calmed down and opened his eyes. She knelt next to him on the floor, rubbing over his back and knitting her brows in concern.

“Oh darling,” she cooed. “Have some tea.” He drank gladly, but this time the obstruction inside him stayed right where it was halfway down his windpipe. “It’s just as I thought. Something is blocking you off from your spiritual self.”

Yuta blinked some tears of exertion from his eyes, smirking as he returned somewhat to himself.

“You sure it’s not just my sarcasm?” he joked, and his mom scowled.

“Well, that’s certainly not helping,” she said. She kissed his forehead and pulled away to find her tarot deck. “But I am proud that you took that seriously. It obviously stirred something. Let me do a quick reading for you and then we can both get to bed.”

Yuta waited as she set up the deck and drew a six of cups, reversed. He sighed. Intense nostalgia; feeling caught in the past or with a past self. That much was obvious.

Yuta’s mother smiled at him softly. “Whatever this is, it’s holding you hostage in memories and longing.” He nodded, remembering his earlier conversation with Mark where they couldn’t seem to stop dwelling on an idealized highlight reel of teenage shenanigans. Right. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

“Not really.” Yuta yawned. He didn’t know if it was because he was actually tired or because he wanted this to wrap up.

Mrs. Nakamoto started packing her cards back up. “That’s alright. You should get some sleep anyway. Good night, dear.”

“G’night.”

***

Yuta gave back into coughing the minute he’d crossed the threshold to his room. He ran to the small trashcan next to his desk, still full of bottles from the night before, and heaved into it so hard he thought his eyes might pop out. Finally though, he had a twinge of relief when the thing that had been caught in his airway materialized on his tongue and his trachea cleared fully for the first time all day. He reached into his mouth and plucked out the offending object, holding it between his fingers over the trash. It was long and yellow and smooth, shaped like the wooden paddles Donghyuck’s ice cream shop gives out for testers.

A horrifying thought crossed Yuta’s mind as he rolled the delicate yellow petal softly between his fingers, watching it disintegrate under his touch and the acid of his saliva. He turned to the bouquet on the coffee table to his left, shivering as he caught a glimpse of the sunny yellow rays of petals adorning each of the three baby sunflowers in the vase. His heart dropped into his feet.

Of course.

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ainawgsd · 5 years ago

Photo

The pale field rat, (Rattus tunneyi), also known as Tunney's rat or the Australian pale field rat, is a small mammal endemic to Australia. They are a nocturnal and herbivorous rodent who reside throughout the day in shallow burrows made in loose sand. Once widespread, the range has become greatly reduced and it is restricted to the grasslands, sedges, and cane-fields at the north and east of the continent.

A vegetarian that eats grass stems, seeds, tubers and roots, and during the day rests in a shallow burrows dug in loose, crumbly soil. The habitat is within the range of pastoralist leases and with the introduction of cattle local ecology has been degraded by soil compaction. Feral cats are also known to have placed pressure on the population. This rat is terrestrial, foraging across the soil surface, although a shallow burrow system provides them with shelter during the day.

The pale field rat is a medium-sized species of Rattus, with a rounded and comparatively broad head. The upper side of the pelage is a toffee-like shade of brown, said to be appealing in appearance, this grades into the lighter cream or greyish white at the underside. The hair across the upper back is slate-grey beneath with a sandy-buff colour overlaying this, the fine hair is around 10 mm and interspersed with hairs around twice this length. A defining detail is their tail length, 80 to 150 millimetres, which is obviously shorter than the combined head and body length, which ranges from 120 to 195 mm. The weight range is 50 to 210 grams. Rattus tunneyi has pale pinkish ears and their large eyes have a bulging appearance. The female has a total of ten nipples, one pectoral and four inguinal pairs of teats. The feet of these rodents are covered in white hair at the upper side.

The behaviour of the species is generally docile, and they are found in living with others in loosely connected and scattered groups. The litter size is around 4 young, butmay range from 2 to 11. As is usual in the genus, the oestrus cycle is from 4 to 5 days, The period of gestation is 21 to 22 days, and when combined with post-partum oestrus it has the potential for a large population increase. The existence of runways between their nests indicate some interaction between individuals, but the degree of sociality amongst these communities is unknown.

The preference of habitat includes woodlands, dense sedges or grassy under-storey within monsoon forest, and wetter open grasslands. The local environment is usually vegetation surrounding a watercourse, with friable soils that seems to be a requirement. They forage for a variety of plant material, and will dig to expose subsurface foods such as tubers.

#rat ABC's #P #pale field rat #rattus tunneyi #tunney's rat #autralian pale field rat #rats #australian wildlife

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threnodygrimblood · 5 years ago

Text

The Family that Shouldn’t Be

Summary: With Muriel and Eustace dead, Courage finds himself all alone at the farmhouse. Fortunately or unfortunately for Courage, the villains he faced in the past begins to make themselves at home at the farmhouse, bringing with them much fun and mayhem the small pink dog can handle.

Rated T for just in case

All Courage the Cowardly Dog character belongs to John Dilworth

I was intending to finish this chapter last night and I was almost done with it, but the typhoon had knocked out my power and it was out until a little after 8 pm tonight. I'm just so happy I saved what I had typed and didn't have to recreate whatever I might’ve lost. Since I have two Courage fanfics I'm going to alternate between writing them so I don't end up neglecting either one. My second Courage fanfic is going to be mature and I don’t think I can post it here so you can find it on FanFiction.net or Archive of Our Own and it’s called Keeping Secrets

The Duck Who Brought Back the Windmill Vandals

֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍

It turned out the fox decided to extend his stay at the farmhouse by claiming he needed a place to lie low until he's sure the fox hunt was over — much to Katz's annoyance. Katz and Cajun Fox were like water and oil. The fox's laid-back personality and messy behavior clashed with Katz's calm and sadistic nature and his need for order and cleanliness, and those two were continually arguing with each other like a married couple. One such case was when Cajun Fox decided he would cook for all of them every day, and Katz objected to the idea, saying they will all take turns making dinner each night. It would've fallen on deaf ears if Courage didn't take Katz's side. Another problem Katz seemed to have with the fox was that not only would he make enough for five or six people, but their grocery bill had skyrocketed thanks to the fox.

The problem was brought up by Katz, who said with the way Cajun had them spent on the food, they were better off trying to grow their food in the garden behind the house. So, a few days afterward, as Katz drove all three to the city, Cajun spied a nursery next to the road. Whether Cajun was excited to see the nursery or impatient for Katz to pull over to it, he had grabbed at the wheel. Their truck swerved along the road as fox and cat fought for the wheel, both yelling at each other, while Courage, sitting between the fox and cat, screamed in wanton terror as they sped towards a truck. Luckily, they swerved out the way at the last second and came to a stop next to the nursery.

Both Courage's teeth and body shook in fear as he gripped the dashboard in a death grip as his blunt canine claws dug into it.

"You crazy, suicidal, moronic, backwater fox!" Katz screamed, turning towards Cajun Fox.

Courage never saw Katz so angry before. Oh, he has seen him angry plenty of times in the past, but never has he seen fur raised all over his body angry before.

Cajun crossed his arms. "I take offense to that backwater remark. Besides, you're the one that said we're better off growing our food."

"You could've gotten us all killed!" Katz stated.

"But we ain't dead, now are we?" Cajun replied nonchalantly as he got the passenger door open.

Katz swore as the fox hopped out the truck and raced for the nursery. Once calm, Courage was at a loss at what to do. He wanted to go after Cajun Fox, but he didn't want to leave Katz. He surveyed the feline's face and saw Katz pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed and his fur still partly raised.

"Katz?" Courage voiced out with caution.

"Go, dog. I'll be there momentarily once I no longer desire to skin the fox and sell his pelt to an old rich woman." Katz informed the dog.

Courage didn't hesitate to comply; Courage jumped down and gently closed the door so as not to get on Katz's simmering temper. The nursery had a small building in front that held the register, garden tools, plant food, outdoor furniture, and seeds. Behind the building was a large greenhouse, and to the left were the bushes and sapling trees, and to the right were tables placed in rows with potted plants on top and potted plants hanging from the rafters.

Courage was able to spot Cajun Fox as he looked at some plants, a cart next to him already had some plants placed in it. Courage made his way over to the fox to see what he had. Looking at the images sticking out the dirt, Courage saw Cajun and chosen green, red, orange, and yellow peppers and that he was looking at some hot peppers.

Courage looked at the table across from them to see what it held. Courage and Muriel rarely went into nurseries like this one. Anytime Muriel wanted to grow something, Eustace would refuse to allow them in one, "Too expensive." being his constant excuse, thus the only place Muriel would be able to buy any plants or seeds were from the store they bought their groceries in or when she would receive seeds as a gift with whatever she purchased. Muriel always tried to grow something on the farm, and Eustace repeatedly whined that he could never produce anything. Courage knew the reason the farmer could never grow anything was simply that he never really tried, and if Eustace tried, he didn't put any effort into it and then whined when he didn't get the result he wanted.

"What'cha think, pup?" Cajun asked, pulling Courage out of his thoughts.

Courage turned his attention towards Cajun, who held up a potted plant to the dog. After making their careful selections, Cajun and Courage went to pay for their plants. Courage hadn't seen Katz at all. He even glanced around every chance he got looking for the cat. He worried at first until both he and the fox walked into the building, and the dog spotted Katz looking at one the books in the corner of the room. Courage wasn't sure why he was relieved to see him. The dog was about to take a step when a rack holding seed packets caught his eyes. He spun the tray, looking at each seed packet until he got to the corn.

Other than sweet corn and popcorn seeds but also blue corn and what was more intriguing was a packet of rainbow corn seeds. Courage never saw corn like it before, and each corn kernel looked like a gemstone. Courage plucked the seed packet off the rack and read the instruction on the back. Courage intended to put the package back, but someone snatched it from the dog's paws.

"What's this? Corn?" Cajun inquired, looking at the item in his paw. "Pretty. Didn't see you as the type to like pretty things."

Courage chuckled, clearly embarrassed. Cajun held onto the package and not only picked out the blue corn but other different variety of corn seeds.

"Not sure if corn will grow in the desert, but we can still it give a try," Cajun stated.

"Are you quite done?" Katz asked after joining the two.

"Where you been, pussy cat?" Cajun asked the cat.

Katz's eye twitched and said calmly, "I've been reading up on gardening." he directed his attention to Courage. "I never understood why the Bagges have hay in the barn, but we make compost we can add them to help the vegetables grow."

That was a brilliant idea, and Courage was impressed.

"Can we go pay, or are you two gonna keep standing there making googly eyes at each other?" Cajun asked.

Courage blushed, and Katz growled. "I swear fox. . ." Courage attempted to stop Katz from causing a scene.

"Boy, I can't wait for these vegetables to grow!" Cajun Fox proclaimed.

"Mm-hm." Courage agreed.

The three made it back to the farmhouse with no problem. Katz had grabbed a shovel and smashed it against Cajun Fox's head, but other than that, it was all right. Katz had gone inside while Courage and Cajun worked on tilling the soil and planting the seeds and plants. Courage picked up the watering can and discovered it empty. He headed over to the water pump and was about to fill the watering can when he heard a noise.

"Huh?" curious, Courage followed the noise to the windmill. He approached the tall structure and looked up. His eyes widen in panic as he saw Le Quack at the top of the windmill tinkering with the engine.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" screamed Courage.

"What's up, pup?" Cajun asked as he strolled over to Courage at the same time, Katz came out the kitchen door asking, "What is all the screaming about?"

Courage stood rooted to his spot as he shook and gibbered away.

"Is that Le Quack up there?" Cajun asked, shielding his eyes from the sun. Katz raised a brow at Cajun and wondered if the fox realized that he had sunglasses to block out the sun for him. The fox didn't notice Katz's expression as he hollered up, "What'cha doin' up there, Le Quack?"

Le Quack looked down at the three and went back to looking for a tool. "I fix the windmill for you."

"But it ain't broken," Cajun interjected.

"Observant, aren't we?" Katz said.

Katz couldn't see it, but Cajun glared at him behind his sunglasses.

"I break, then you pay me to fix it, oui?" Le Quack answered.

"He knows that since we're watchin' him break it, we ain't gonna pay to fix it, right?" Cajun inquired.

"I do not know how someone's mind works, so I can't say what Le Quack's thinking," Katz answered.

While all this was happening, memories of what happened when the windmill stopped ran rampant through Courage's brain until he ran screaming for the cellar door.

"For a small dog with tiny legs, he sure can run fast," Cajun commented, watching the dog go.

"Agreed," Katz said.

Courage didn't bother to open the cellar doors; he crashed through them. Clattering sounds drifted out the cellar as Courage rummaged around down there. He came back out carrying Eustace's old tool bag. Most of the tools had bits of rust on them, and they were cheap, but he hoped they would get the job done. Sweat poured off the dog as he climbed up the windmill and sat the tool bag down next to Le Quack.

"Qu'est-ce que ç'est? Go away." Le Quack tried to shoo Courage away, but he wouldn't budge.

The dog dug around the toolbox and pulled out a socket wrench. The dog tried to push the duck out the way and find what he did before the blades stopped.

"How annoying." Le Quack articulated and managed to kick Courage off the top.

Courage screamed as he fell but luckily grabbed hold of the tower. He looked up when he heard a terrible noise come from the motor and the blades come to a stop.

"Nooo!" he wailed as the sky turned red. "Oh, no."

"Skies shouldn't be this color of red," commented Cajun.

"I'm amazed at how observant you've been today," Katz told the fox as neither aware of the cloud of smoke coming right for them.

"You know what pussy cat, you can kiss my-"

The sound of a blade hitting flesh rend the air as Cajun Fox's body twitched. Courage screamed in horror as Katz stared at Cajun's headless body mystified. He felt a presence behind him, he turned and found himself face to face with one of the undead vandal's undead horse. The vandal swung his double-headed ax at Katz.

"Noooo!" Courage wailed again.

"I wish you hadn't done that," Katz said perturbed as the double-headed ax-wielding vandal held up the cat's head.

"Qu'est-ce que ç'est?" Le Quack asked, looking over the side at what's happening.

Coming out of his horrified state, Courage climbed back to the top. "You got to fix this!" he commanded the duck.

"And why should I?" Le Quack asked, crossing his wings over his chest.

"'Cus, they'll come after you next." Courage answered.

He could see Le Quack process that, and the duck said, "I fix ze windmill, oui?"

Courage nodded as Le Quack picked up a tool, the dog gulped as he jumped off the tower, screaming the whole way down. Air rushed out his lungs as he landed on something hard, bony, and moving. He looked behind him to see that he had landed on one of the vandal's steed. He made a strangled sound, and then his ears perked at the sound of "Pup!"

"Huh?" Courage wondered and looked down to see Cajun's head attached to the saddle.

"Help me out here!" implored Cajun.

Courage grabbed the fox's head and jumped off the horse. Courage landed on his bottom then got to his feet as the vandal turned his steed around and went after them. Courage once again belted out a scream as he noted the other three vandals came right at him. Before they got close, they vanished in the same cloud of smoke that brought the vandals to the farm. Courage stopped running and looked up to see the windmill blades turning. He sighed in relief.

"Ah, pup?" Courage looked up at Cajun's head, smiled sheepishly, and dashed over to Cajun's body.

He handed the head to the body, and Cajun said, "Thanks, pup." as he placed his head back onto his body.

Courage was relieved until he turned and was horrified to see Katz's body wandering around without its head. He forgot about Katz! The dog wailed as he recalled the first time the vandals appeared, they took Eustace's head first, and it had disappeared with the vandals when Courage got the windmill working temporarily. They needed to get the mill to stop working to bring back the vandals and get Katz's head. Courage hatched a plan, and he climbed up the windmill. Le Quack turned to him, "I have, how do you say, fixed the windmill."

"I need you to make it stop working for a bit." Courage informed him.

"Why, after telling me to fix it?" Le Quack asked.

"One of the vandals' took Katz's head, and we need to get it back," explained Courage.

Le Quack sighed. "Very well, I will jam the windmill."

"Jam it once I tell you to and fix it when I tell you, okay?" Courage told him.

"Oui." Le Quack answered.

Courage then climbed back down, and he quickly explained it to Cajun.

"You want me to be bait so you can retrieve the cat's head?" Cajun tried to clarify, and Courage nodded. "Ya know, I think pussy cat looks better like this. We won't have to continue listening to him be all high and mighty towards us."

Courage placed his paws on his hips and glared up at Cajun. "Just do it."

"Fine, fine. I'll run around for you." Cajun conceded.

Satisfied, Courage took Katz's hand and led him over to the windmill.

"Stay." Courage didn't notice the irony of a dog commanding a cat to stay. Courage stayed near the windmill and called up, "Are you ready, Le Quack?"

"Oui," answered Le Quack.

"Are you ready, Cajun?" Courage asked the fox.

"No!" was Cajun's answer.

"Do it!" Courage instructed Le Quack.

The windmill came to a squeaking stop, and the clouds came back. Cajun pelted out a scream and took off as the vandals gave chase. Sweat flew off Courage as he frantically looked for Katz's head among the vandals. Where is it? Where is it? There! He spotted Katz's head attached to the double-headed ax-wielding vandal's steed. Courage took off after the vandal. The dog panted as he worked his legs to run faster, he leaped and snatched Katz's head.

Courage landed on the ground and stared into Katz's stony eyes. "Yay!" he declared happily.

"Ahhh! Move your puppy dog tail!" Cajun screamed as he ran past, one paw attempting to keep his head attached to his neck.

Courage looked back and screamed at the vandals coming his way with their weapons held up high. Courage ran off in the same direction as Cajun and screamed as loud as he could. "Now! Now!"

The sword-wielding vandal came closer and closer towards Courage; he swung his sword down and towards the dog's neck. Courage felt the air against the back of his neck. He stopped and gasping to catch his breath found the vandals gone. He sighed in relief.

"My dear boy." Courage looked down at the head in his paws. "A little help getting back onto my body would be appreciated."

Courage chuckled nervously and walked over to Katz's wandering body again. He handed the feline's head over to Katz's body and watched as Katz set his head back onto his neck.

"Thank you. . . Courage." Katz expressed his gratitude.

Courage was surprised, never hearing Katz call him by his name before. But he smiled and said, "I'm just glad you're okay."

Katz gave Courage a strange look and turned away. Courage wanted to ask him what was wrong when Cajun said, "I'm fine too, thanks for asking."

Whatever Katz was going to say to the fox died when Le Quack came down the windmill and said, "I get paid now, oui?"

"Paid?!" Katz and Cajun bellowed at the same time.

Courage let out a sigh, decided to get a drink for his aching throat, and leaving Katz and Cajun to deal with Le Quack.

#Courage the Cowardly Dog #Courage the Cowardly Dog fanfic #Courage #Katz #Cajun Fox #Le Quack #the windmill vandals #fanfic #The Family that Shouldn't Be #The Duck Who Brought Back the Windmill Vandals #ThrenodyGrimblood

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yamamuragaku · 5 years ago

Photo

Tamaki Yotsuba [Monster] RabbitChat

“Give me candy or I’ll play a prank on you–”

Part 1-5

Part 1: Trick or Treat!

Tsumugi: Tamaki-san, good work!

It’ll be October soon. What comes to mind when you think of October?

Tamaki: Hey

Tamaki: That of course

Tsumugi: That!

Tamaki: Halloween!

Tsumugi: Halloween!

Tamaki:

Tsumugi:

Tsumugi: I wanted to tell you, you received a job related to Halloween!

It’s a “Halloween Parade” where idols dressed in monster-ish costumes hijack a prepared venue!

Tamaki: It sounds really fun

Tamaki: Is there candy?

Tsumugi: Of course. Like during Valentine’s, everyone will produce Halloween sweets according to their specifications!

Tamaki: Yay! I will make pumpkin-flavored Ousama Pudding

Tsumugi: T-Tamaki-san, isn’t that now being sold at convenience stores >< lol

Tsumugi: It’s fine if you freely think about it freely.

Tamaki: Eh——

Tamaki: Mm——

Tamaki: I should think about it

Tsumugi: Yes! It’s okay because there’s still time.

Tsumugi: A lot of idols are participating in the Halloween Parade, but among them, Re:vale and TRIGGER are there too!

The main personalities will be Re:vale.

Tsumugi: Everyone will be wearing matching monster-ish costumes, so please look forward to it!

Tamaki: You seem like you’re looking forward to it too, manager

Tsumugi: I am! Halloween is somehow really exciting!

Tamaki: Hey

Tamaki: Won’t it be hard for Yama-san to wear a monster-ish costume lolol

Tsumugi: In the end, he decided to wear it which was a relief lol

Tamaki: That’s because manager threatened Yama-san lol

You said you had to ask the boss to calculate the budget lol

Tsumugi: T-that’s true but I wasn’t really trying to threaten him ><

Tamaki: Not funny

Tamaki: Then I’ll threaten manager too-

Tsumugi: Eh?!

Tamaki: Trick or Treat

Tamaki: Give me candy or I’ll play a prank on you–

Tamaki:

Tsumugi: How about 2 pumpkin flavor Ousama Puddings?!

Tamaki: Okay, let’s shake hands

Tsumugi: Please eat it together with Sougo-san!

Tamaki:

Part 2: Tamaki’s Halloween

Tamaki: Manager

Tamaki: Are you there?

Tsumugi: Good work, Tamaki-san.

I’m here! What happened?

Tamaki: Are we having a Halloween party at the agency?

Tsumugi: I want to! Last year was a kerfuffle so we couldn’t particularly do anything..

Tamaki: Hey-. Let’s cosplay and eat sweets

Tsumugi: Sounds good! I’ll check everyone’s schedules for a day we can meet later.

Tamaki: Yay

Tsumugi: Tamaki-san, you sure treasure events!

Tamaki: That’s because the facility had such a policy

Tsumugi: Is that so….

Tamaki: How about you, manager?

Tsumugi: I don’t particularly recall what I did for Halloween….

It was fun since a lot of shops sold various candies! or that was my impression ><

Tamaki: Really, what a waste—-

Tsumugi: Indeed… ><

So I can prepare for the party, there are various things I’d like to ask you..

Option 1

Tsumugi: Besides candy, is there anything else you’d like to eat for Halloween?

Tamaki: Halloween limited Ousama Pudding.

Because Ousama Pudding isn’t candy, it’s Ousama Pudding

Option 2

Tsumugi: Are there any costumes you’d like to try, Tamaki-san?

Tamaki: A guy in my class told me I’d look good as a werewolf

Besides, isn’t walking around town in a costume a pain in the ass? What’s so fun about it

Option 3

Tsumugi: Do you have any memorable moments of Halloween, Tamaki-san?

Tamaki: I got a small set of sweets at the facility every year

Iorin probably liked it so he went there too

Tamaki: Let’s have the party early Before the parade

Tsumugi: That’s quite early…! I thought you’d certainly want to do it on the 31st.

Tamaki: Because the day of the parade is Ryuu-aniki’s birthday

Tamaki: Isn’t it better to finish it before that, and afterwards go all out on TNS Strengthening Month

Tsumugi: Tamaki-san…! You’re right. Let’s hold the Halloween party early, and focus on TNS Strengthening Month!

We are always indebted to TRIGGER after all.

Tamaki: What does Ryuu-aniki like?

Tamaki: Even if I ask Yama-san and Mikkii who’re around his age, I probably can’t depend on them

Tsumugi: You can’t depend on them…? lol

Tamaki: Because they’re not erotic

Tsumugi: Because of that?!

Tamaki: Yama-san isn’t erotic, but perverted

Tamaki: But Mikkii is not like that

Tsumugi: D-difficult, isn’t it….

Tamaki: We have to think of something Ryuu-aniki would like

Earlier when I massaged Yama-san’s shoulder, he cried, so it’d be good if massaging his shoulders makes him happy-

Tsumugi: A shoulder massage coupon seems just like your thing, Tamaki-san!

Part 3: Food Samples Battle

Tsumugi: Tamaki-san, good work.

Thank you for the Halloween Parade sample & food tasting meeting earlier!

Tsumugi: It’s good that you happily participated, Tamaki-san!

Tamaki: Manager, ty ty

Tamaki: It was so— fun I’ve never seen so much people making sweets outside class

Tsumugi: It looked like you were having fun with Nagi-san!

What happened?

Tamaki: I decided on pumpkin pudding

Tsumugi: So you did!

Tamaki: But-

Tsumugi: Yes!

Tamaki: Nagicchi smugly said, “Why don’t you try giving up pudding occasionally?”

Tsumugi: A passionate battle between men…!

Tamaki: Even though I tried making a snack that looked like monster

Tsumugi: C-certainly scattering pumpkin seeds on top of a muffin makes it look like a monster….

Tamaki: Also it was so scary how the muffin over-expanded and cracked…

Tsumugi: I think the professionals will make it cute for the finished product! ><

Tamaki: Oh-

Tamaki: Because if Nagicchi’s fans see that they’ll be surprised lol

Tsumugi: I think that way, the taste will match and it’ll be really good though…!

Option 1

Tsumugi: Whose sweets were delicious?

Tamaki: Hm——-

Rikkun’s donuts. It was good that there was cream inside and that they were shaped like a cat

Option 2

Tsumugi: The sweets Tamaki-san made were also wonderful!

Tamaki: They lose to Ousama Pudding but nothing can win against it-

Option 3

Tsumugi: I want the fans to eat them deliciously!

Tamaki: Oh-

It’d be good if they feel like I did when I first met Ousama Pudding

Tamaki: By the way, aren't the sales from the sweets we produced being donated

Tsumugi: Yes.

It’d be good if I could help the children around the world even a little….

Tamaki: You can do it

Tamaki: Someone like me lived this far

Tsumugi: Tamaki-san….

Tamaki: That’s why I don’t give up Everyone will get worried

Tsumugi: Yeah…. Thank you! I shouldn’t give up!

Tamaki:

Tamaki: We’re naming the snacks we made today

Tsumugi: Yes, please let me know when you decide!

Tamaki: I decided

Tsumugi: So quick…!

Tamaki: I decided on

Tamaki: Happy-Making Pumpkin-sama Pudding

Tamaki: No good?

Tsumugi: How wonderful, it’s just like you, Tamaki-san. I’m happy…!

Tamaki: Yay

Tamaki:

Tsumugi:

Part 4: Noisy Party

Tamaki: Good work manager

Tamaki: Let’s have another party Tomorrow is fine

Tsumugi: Tamaki-san, good work!

The Halloween party today was fun!

Tamaki: Are we doing it tomorrow?

Tamaki:

Tsumugi: U-unfortunately tomorrow might be difficult..

But we’ll have a Christmas party in 2 months!

Tamaki: Too long———-

Tsumugi: L-long? I think it’s scary that a year passes by in a flash..

Tamaki: Soo-chan said that too Why do only Yama-san and Mikkii understand!

Tamaki: It’s so far away— I want to grow up soon

Tsumugi: You want to become an adult?

Tamaki: Yeah-

Tamaki: Because I think I wasn’t able to protect Aya because I’m a child

Tsumugi: That’s….

Tamaki: Ah, Rikkun and the others have decided to defeat that old man so you don’t have to worry, manager

Tamaki: I put on a costume to defeat that old man

Tsumugi: You dressed as Dracula to defeat him…?

Tamaki: Soo-chan said I looked cool

Tsumugi: Of course, you look cool!

Tamaki: Hmhmph

Option 1

Tsumugi: Were there any other good costumes?

Tamaki: Soo-chan’s jiangshi wasn’t good… (1)

Because his white face was scary, and the costume from Nagicchi’s acquaintance was really all-out

Option 2

Tsumugi: What was your funniest memory from today?

Tamaki: It was funny when Rikkun who was wearing a bloody lab coat chased around Iorin in a devilish costume, saying, “Let me give you an injection—” lol

And Iorin got mad at Rikkun for running around lol

Option 3

Tsumugi: Let’s have a Halloween party again next year!

Tamaki: I’m looking forward to that old man, Nagicchi’s acquaintance’s costumes again

Also all-you-can-eat pudding

Tamaki: The parade is soon

Tsumugi: Yes, and Tsunashi-san’s birthday too!

Tamaki: Have you decided what to do for Ryuu-aniki?

Tsumugi: I heard they are going to celebrate before the weekend, so I plan to make some sweets, and give them to Anesagi-san!

Tamaki: Oh-

Tamaki: Ryuu-aniki also eats sweets

Tsumugi: Doesn’t he look like he doesn’t eat them? It seems like he’s into making sweets lately.

Tamaki: He somehow looks like he only eats expensive fish and meat

Tamaki: When I went to his house before, he made some really tasty things for me so he’s good at cooking

Tsumugi: Certainly he might have such an image!

Tamaki: Soo-chan was also worried about what to do. He looked after us during the Shuffle Unit so he doesn’t want to give him anything rude yadda yadda

Tsumugi: It seems like Sougo-san spends his time being worried lol

Tamaki: Soo-chan blew his top when Yama-san said he’ll send red boxers

Tsumugi: I think I’d be angry too…lol

Tamaki: Is a coupon for upgrading a shoulder massage no good?

Tamaki: Or a coupon for muscle training together

Tsumugi: Did you consult with Sougo-san?

Tamaki: I asked He mumbled, “Is Tsunashi-san your father or something…? Well I think he’d be pleased though…”

Tsumugi: Umm,,

Tsumugi: I imagine Tsunashi-san would be happy with anything we gave him heartfeltly….

Tamaki: How about a coupon for a public bathhouse?

Tsumugi: I think Tsunashi-san will be pleased…!

Tamaki: Yay it’s decided-

Tsumugi: But, where did you get the coupons?

Tamaki: Rikkun won them in a lottery Rikkun’s lack of desire sensor is the best

Tsumugi: A lottery…! Please think of something beside a coupon!

Tamaki: Tch

Part 5: Halloween Parade

Tsumugi: Tamaki-san, good work on today’s parade as well as Tsunashi-san’s surprise celebration!

Tamaki: Good work-

Tamaki: Did I look good?

Tsumugi: Of course! Everyone looked good.

You were so fluffy and cute!

Tamaki: Gakkun looked embarrassed

Tsumugi: TRIGGER doesn’t usually wear these costumes, don’t they…. All the groups had a unifying concept, so it couldn’t be changed ><

Tamaki: Tenten got so mad at Gakkun for looking embarrassed

Tamaki: Ryuu-aniki was happy to wear it

Tsumugi: It must’ve been curious! lol

Tamaki: It’s good that Ryuu-aniki is easy to understand. Tenten is an iron mask Gakkun still has a grudge towards me over udon and soba

Tsumugi: Udon…how nostalgic ><

Tamaki: However Gakkun as the MC was hot

Tsumugi: Yeah! He showed a lot of member love.

Tamaki: It’s not easy to say, I love you, that is

Tamaki: As expected of Gakkun

Tsumugi: That’s because Gaku-san is a passionate person…!

Option 1

Tsumugi: It was a wonderful surprise!

Tamaki: Ryuu-aniki cried, so while Gakkun and Tenten were hugging him

I remember what Yama-san did during the celebration. Yama-san cried a little lol

Option 2

Tsumugi: Did you give him the present?

Tamaki: I handed it over in the dressing room. Bath house coupons and a massage coupon

I said let’s go to the bath house again

Option 3

Tsumugi: How was the parade?

Tamaki: The fans had a lot of fun at my robot dance

That’s not the only thing I can do

Tamaki: Also Yukirin’s costume today looked so good

Tsumugi: Momo-san and Yuki-san were very cute walking in the front while holding hands….

As expected of Re:vale, they look good in any costume!

Tamaki: Those 2 sure get along

Tsumugi: During stand-by, those two shouted at you to come over…!

Tamaki: Earlier they also made me play a board game, but I like those kinds of games

Tamaki: When I mentioned smart phone games, Yukirin said he doesn’t really play them

Tsumugi: It’s probably more popular among teens, smart phone game culture!

Tamaki: Really?

Tamaki: Momorin plays them. Like competing for score

Tsumugi: You became gaming friends?

Tamaki: Since you can know when scores are updated on the timeline. We’re not supposed to do it together though

Tsumugi: As expected of Tamaki-san, your communication skill is high.

Tamaki: I don’t really get it but does that mean I’m strong?

Tsumugi: Yes! lol

Tamaki:

Tamaki: Later we took pictures with an app that swapped everyone’s faces

Tsumugi: !?!?

Tsumugi: You can do such a thing?!

Tamaki: You didn’t know, manager? So slow

Tsumugi: Interesting! lol

Tamaki: Iorin and Rikkun also swapped faces

Tsumugi: Ah cute!

Tamaki: Manager, try it with boss

Tamaki: It’ll be funny lol

Tsumugi: Ehh?! Then you try it with Sougo-san!

Tamaki: I did but it was normal somehow…felt like that guy was here

Tsumugi: R-really?

Tamaki: I wanted to do it with Mikkii, Nagicchi and Yama-san but Yama-san hated it and ran away so we’ll definitely do it next time

Tsumugi: I’m looking forward to it! lol

Tamaki:

Screenshots courtesy of rabbit-library.

(1) A jiangshi is a Chinese zombie.

#idolish7 #tamaki yotsuba #rabbitchat #translation

14 notes · View notes

brookston · 1 year ago

Text

Holidays 5.30

Holidays

Anguilla Day

Arab Juice Day

Biafra Remembrance Day (Nigeria)

Canary Islands Day (Spain)

Daily Newspaper Day

Fakesgiving

Fishing Day (Elder Scrolls)

Garden Amazement Day

Harvest Festival (Malaysia)

Heirloom Seed Day

Ice Cream Freezer Day

Indian Arrival Day (Trinidad and Tobago)

International Doubles Day

International Hug Your Cat Day

Jag’s McCartney Day (Turks and Caicos Islands)

Joan of Arc Day

Kaamatan Harvest Festival begins (Kadazandusuns; Malaysia)

Lod Massacre Remembrance Day (Puerto Rico)

Loomis Day

Mother’s Day (Nicaragua)

My Bucket's Got A Hole In It Day

National Creativity Day

National E-Bike Day

National Gopher Revolution Day

National Jennifer Day

National Multiple Sclerosis Day

National Nail Tech Day

National Recruiters Day

National Sofia Day

National Women in Baseball Day

No Garbage Day (Japan)

Paperback Writer Day

Parliament Day (Croatia)

Reconciliation Day (Australia)

Sabitri Amabasya (Odisha, India)

Strawberry Day (French Republic)

Swing Day a.k.a. Tano Day (Korea) [5th Day of 5th Lunar Month]

This Day

Water a Flower Day

World Juice Day

World MS Day

World Sea Lion Day

World Vape Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Mint Julep Day

National Potato Day (Peru)

National Scone Day

4th & Last Tuesday in May

Mampoer Festival (Moonshine Festival; Cullinan, South Africa)

World Bedwetting Day [Last Tuesday]

Independence Days

Dan Državnosti (Statehood Day; Croatia)

Eintractia (Declared; 2017) [unrecognized]

Eleytheria (Declared; 2010) [unrecognized]

Goa Statehood Day (India)

Feast Days

St. Chrysostom (Positivist; Saint)

Einherjar (Asatru; memorial to war dead in Valhalla)

Feast of the Queen of Heaven (Pagan)

Felix, Pope (Christian; Saint)

Ferdinand III of Castile, King of Castile and Leon (Christian; Saint)

Frigg's Day (Norse Queen of Heaven)

Harvest Festival (Malaysia)

Isaac of Dalmatia (Christian; Saint)

Joan of Arc (Christian; Saint)

Joseph Marello (Christian; Saint)

Maguil, Recluse in Picardy (Christian; Saint)

Meinherjar (Feast of Valhalla; Pagan)

Pro Hart (Artology)

Random Acts of Kindness Day (Pastafarian)

Spook (Muppetism)

Walston of Bawburgh (Christian; Saint) [Agricultural Works, Farmers, Farm Workers, Field Hands]

Winnie Ruth Judd Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [29 of 57]

Premieres

Bingo Crosbyana (WB MM Cartoon; 1936)

The Bourne Identity, by Robert Ludlum (Novel; 1980)

Dark Town Strutters Ball, recorded by the Original Dixieland Jazz Band (1917)

Dumb Patrol (WB LT Cartoon; 1931)

Finding Nemo (Animated Disney Film; 2003)

Girls Like You, by Maroon 5 (Song; 2018)

The Italian Job (Film; 2003)

Living in the Material World, by George Harrison (Album; 1973)

Maleficent (Film; 2014)

The Marshall Mathers LP, by Eminem (Album; 2000)

One Hundred Years of Solitude (Novel; 1967)

Parasite (Film; 2019)

Passenger to Frankfurt, by Agatha Christie (Novel; 1971)

Sex and the City (Film; 2008)

Today’s Name Days

Ferdinand, Johanna, Otto (Austria)

Emiliya (Bulgaria)

Ferdinand, Ivana (Croatia)

Ferdinand (Czech Republic)

Vigand (Denmark)

Argo, Arro (Estonia)

Pasi (Finland)

Ferdinand, Jeanne, Lorraine (France)

Felix, Ferdinand, Johanna (Germany)

Emmeleia (Greece)

Janka, Zsanett (Hungary)

Felice, Ferdinando, Giovanni (Italy)

Kredo, Lola, Lolita, Vitolds (Latvia)

Ferdinandas, Joana, Jomilė, Vyliaudas, Žana (Lithuania)

Gard, Geir (Norway)

Andonik, Feliks, Ferdynand, Joanna, Sulimir (Poland)

Isaachie (România)

Ferdinand (Slovakia)

Estela, Estrella, Fernando, Juana (Spain)

Fritjof, Vera, Veronika (Sweden)

Joan, Joani, Joann, Joanna, Joanne, Johanna, Fawn, Fern, Fernanda, Fernando, Ferdinand, Ferdinanda, Ferdinando (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 150 of 2024; 215 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 2 of week 22 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Huath (Hawthorn) [Day 16 of 28]

Chinese: Month 4 (Ding-Si), Day 12 (Wu-Zi)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 10 Sivan 5783

Islamic: 10 Dhu al-Qada 1444

J Cal: 28 Bīja; Sevenday [28 of 30]

Julian: 17 May 2023

Moon: 78%: Waxing Gibbous

Positivist: 10 St. Paul (6th Month) [St. Chrysostom]

Runic Half Month: Odal (Home, Possession) [Day 5 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 71 of 90)

Zodiac: Gemini (Day 9 of 32)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 150 of 2022; 215 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 1 of week 22 of 2022

Celtic Tree Calendar: Huath (Hawthorn) [Day 18 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Púyuè), Day 1 (Gui-Wei)

Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)

Hebrew: 29 Iyar 5782

Islamic: 28 Shawwal 1443

J Cal: 30 Bīja; Eight Day [30 of 30]

Julian: 17 May 2022

Moon: 0% New Moon

Positivist: 10 St. Paul (6th Month) [St. Chrysostom]

Runic Half Month: Odal (Home, Possession) [Day 3 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 69 of 90)

Zodiac: Gemini (Day 9 of 30)

#calendar #Holidays

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brookstonalmanac · 1 year ago

Text

Holidays 5.30

Holidays

Anguilla Day

Arab Juice Day

Biafra Remembrance Day (Nigeria)

Canary Islands Day (Spain)

Daily Newspaper Day

Fakesgiving

Fishing Day (Elder Scrolls)

Garden Amazement Day

Harvest Festival (Malaysia)

Heirloom Seed Day

Ice Cream Freezer Day

Indian Arrival Day (Trinidad and Tobago)

International Doubles Day

International Hug Your Cat Day

Jag’s McCartney Day (Turks and Caicos Islands)

Joan of Arc Day

Kaamatan Harvest Festival begins (Kadazandusuns; Malaysia)

Lod Massacre Remembrance Day (Puerto Rico)

Loomis Day

Mother’s Day (Nicaragua)

My Bucket's Got A Hole In It Day

National Creativity Day

National E-Bike Day

National Gopher Revolution Day

National Jennifer Day

National Multiple Sclerosis Day

National Nail Tech Day

National Recruiters Day

National Sofia Day

National Women in Baseball Day

No Garbage Day (Japan)

Paperback Writer Day

Parliament Day (Croatia)

Reconciliation Day (Australia)

Sabitri Amabasya (Odisha, India)

Strawberry Day (French Republic)

Swing Day a.k.a. Tano Day (Korea) [5th Day of 5th Lunar Month]

This Day

Water a Flower Day

World Juice Day

World MS Day

World Sea Lion Day

World Vape Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Mint Julep Day

National Potato Day (Peru)

National Scone Day

4th & Last Tuesday in May

Mampoer Festival (Moonshine Festival; Cullinan, South Africa)

World Bedwetting Day [Last Tuesday]

Independence Days

Dan Državnosti (Statehood Day; Croatia)

Eintractia (Declared; 2017) [unrecognized]

Eleytheria (Declared; 2010) [unrecognized]

Goa Statehood Day (India)

Feast Days

St. Chrysostom (Positivist; Saint)

Einherjar (Asatru; memorial to war dead in Valhalla)

Feast of the Queen of Heaven (Pagan)

Felix, Pope (Christian; Saint)

Ferdinand III of Castile, King of Castile and Leon (Christian; Saint)

Frigg's Day (Norse Queen of Heaven)

Harvest Festival (Malaysia)

Isaac of Dalmatia (Christian; Saint)

Joan of Arc (Christian; Saint)

Joseph Marello (Christian; Saint)

Maguil, Recluse in Picardy (Christian; Saint)

Meinherjar (Feast of Valhalla; Pagan)

Pro Hart (Artology)

Random Acts of Kindness Day (Pastafarian)

Spook (Muppetism)

Walston of Bawburgh (Christian; Saint) [Agricultural Works, Farmers, Farm Workers, Field Hands]

Winnie Ruth Judd Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [29 of 57]

Premieres

Bingo Crosbyana (WB MM Cartoon; 1936)

The Bourne Identity, by Robert Ludlum (Novel; 1980)

Dark Town Strutters Ball, recorded by the Original Dixieland Jazz Band (1917)

Dumb Patrol (WB LT Cartoon; 1931)

Finding Nemo (Animated Disney Film; 2003)

Girls Like You, by Maroon 5 (Song; 2018)

The Italian Job (Film; 2003)

Living in the Material World, by George Harrison (Album; 1973)

Maleficent (Film; 2014)

The Marshall Mathers LP, by Eminem (Album; 2000)

One Hundred Years of Solitude (Novel; 1967)

Parasite (Film; 2019)

Passenger to Frankfurt, by Agatha Christie (Novel; 1971)

Sex and the City (Film; 2008)

Today’s Name Days

Ferdinand, Johanna, Otto (Austria)

Emiliya (Bulgaria)

Ferdinand, Ivana (Croatia)

Ferdinand (Czech Republic)

Vigand (Denmark)

Argo, Arro (Estonia)

Pasi (Finland)

Ferdinand, Jeanne, Lorraine (France)

Felix, Ferdinand, Johanna (Germany)

Emmeleia (Greece)

Janka, Zsanett (Hungary)

Felice, Ferdinando, Giovanni (Italy)

Kredo, Lola, Lolita, Vitolds (Latvia)

Ferdinandas, Joana, Jomilė, Vyliaudas, Žana (Lithuania)

Gard, Geir (Norway)

Andonik, Feliks, Ferdynand, Joanna, Sulimir (Poland)

Isaachie (România)

Ferdinand (Slovakia)

Estela, Estrella, Fernando, Juana (Spain)

Fritjof, Vera, Veronika (Sweden)

Joan, Joani, Joann, Joanna, Joanne, Johanna, Fawn, Fern, Fernanda, Fernando, Ferdinand, Ferdinanda, Ferdinando (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 150 of 2024; 215 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 2 of week 22 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Huath (Hawthorn) [Day 16 of 28]

Chinese: Month 4 (Ding-Si), Day 12 (Wu-Zi)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 10 Sivan 5783

Islamic: 10 Dhu al-Qada 1444

J Cal: 28 Bīja; Sevenday [28 of 30]

Julian: 17 May 2023

Moon: 78%: Waxing Gibbous

Positivist: 10 St. Paul (6th Month) [St. Chrysostom]

Runic Half Month: Odal (Home, Possession) [Day 5 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 71 of 90)

Zodiac: Gemini (Day 9 of 32)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 150 of 2022; 215 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 1 of week 22 of 2022

Celtic Tree Calendar: Huath (Hawthorn) [Day 18 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Púyuè), Day 1 (Gui-Wei)

Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)

Hebrew: 29 Iyar 5782

Islamic: 28 Shawwal 1443

J Cal: 30 Bīja; Eight Day [30 of 30]

Julian: 17 May 2022

Moon: 0% New Moon

Positivist: 10 St. Paul (6th Month) [St. Chrysostom]

Runic Half Month: Odal (Home, Possession) [Day 3 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 69 of 90)

Zodiac: Gemini (Day 9 of 30)

#Holidays

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aliceslantern · 5 years ago

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Beyond this Existence: New Life, short 15--Smoke

Recovery is a tedious, nonlinear process. Demyx, Ienzo, and the others living in Radiant Garden's castle have to learn to come to terms with their pasts and their memories, learn to grow, and begin to understand what, exactly, it means to be human. While there is unexpected joy in this, there is also unexpected sorrow. A series of oneshots set after Beyond this Existence.

Current short: “Smoke.” One of Aerith's tests leaves Demyx with an unanticipated award.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

Demyx was tired of looking at leaves. His eyes burned, and there was a crick in his neck from being bent over the countertop for most of the morning. He was pretty sure he was going to permanently smell like anise seed. He stuffed the pills he'd made into their pouches and wiped his hands on a damp rag.

Aerith offered him a glass of lemonade. “I’m surprised you haven’t complained.”

He took it. The tart sweetness almost, but not quite, masked the taste of the herbs he’d been breathing. “My strategy now is to try and ignore it.”

“I was hoping you would.”

“Ignore it? Or complain?” He sat gingerly on the stool and felt his feet throb.

She appraised his handiwork. “A lot of our work has to do with endurance. I gave you too much to do, in a manner that was intentionally confusing, on purpose.”

He held back the urge to groan. “So this was a test?”

She smiled. Aerith had a mischievous side, one he was still getting used to. She sorted through the pills and packets he’d made. Anxiety only made the ache in his feet worse. After a long, long moment, she said, “Not bad.”

““Not bad” can also mean “not good.””

She brought her eyes to his. “You made no awful mistakes. The medicine would do its job. It’s the finer points that you seem to have trouble with. Like this migraine powder. There’s no oil or anything to mask the flavor. It’d work--but it’d taste very bitter, which is the last thing a person in that much pain wants.”

Demyx exhaled. “Right. That makes sense.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “It’s only been a few months. You’re bound to make some mistakes. This will all be second nature at some point.”

He stood and flinched when he took back his weight. He really needed to invest in some better shoes. “I want to be good at it now .” The only thing that had ever come effortlessly to him was music, and even that was hard won these days. He started to put away the excess herbs in her apothecary chest. Aerith’s handwriting was notoriously bad; reading the labels felt like something of a test too.

She touched his shoulder. “And I’m happy you’re so passionate. But don’t rush the process.”

He nodded and made himself smile. “Right.” He was just about to shutter the cabinet when one of the smaller drawers in the corner caught his eye. It wasn’t--no. He pulled it open and saw the buds neatly wrapped in cheesecloth, probably to cover the smell.

He didn’t need training to be a healer to recognize this plant.

“Is there a particular reason you just have a drawer full of weed?”

She raised an eyebrow. “It can be used as medicine, you know.”

“Yeah, I… know.” He shut the drawer.

“Did you want to take some? I don’t mind.”

“I don’t need it.”

“But do you want it?”

Demyx didn’t know how to read her sometimes. “I… don’t know.”

“So take it. Smoke it or not, I don’t care. Just give me a heads-up if you want the night off.”

“...Sure.” He held the drug, feeling like he was doing something wrong even though he’d easily carried far more potent painkillers. Embarrassed, he tucked it into his pocket. “Thanks. I think.”

She smirked. “We all need to cut loose every now and again.”

---

Demyx made dinner that night for Ienzo. His own cooking was never inspired, and it all seemed to come out bland no matter what he did to it. Ienzo’s food tasted better, but it wasn’t necessarily fair to always make him cook, especially now that they lived together.

He thought a lot about fairness, these days. He guessed it had something to do with getting continually trod on his whole life.

Before he could spiral along that path, he heard the door open. “Hey. How was your day?”

Ienzo set aside his glasses and phone before giving him a kiss. “Productive. I started my first draft.”

“Can I see it?”

“It’s not nearly ready.”

They took their meal at the small oak table. “You’ve got a funny look on your face,” Ienzo said. “Something happen today?”

“No, not really.” He stirred his rice aimlessly. It was a bit undercooked. His rice always came out that way, or else it was mush. He blamed the front stove burner; it was a bit too hot. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever done drugs?”

This seemed to amuse him, more than anything. “Why is it you ask?”

“It just hit me that I kind of have easy access to them.”

“Well, most of the substances you work with aren’t exactly for recreational purposes.”

“Mm. True. Except Aerith kind of gave me a bag of weed?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.” Demyx took it out of his pocket and put it on the table. Ienzo poked it with the tip of his fork.

“I suppose she must use it as a painkiller,” he said.

“You can look at it, if you want.”

“I’m… fascinated, despite myself.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose that answers your question. What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Have you… indulged in such things?”

Demyx rubbed at the back of his neck. “A few times,” he admitted. “It was usually offered whenever Luxord had one of his poker nights.”

“I do wonder what happened to him. I hope he’s well.”

“He was fun to be around.” Demyx sighed. “If his Nobody was killed, he’s whole now.”

“I hope he’s as happy as we are.”

A moment passed. They contemplated the bag on the table.

“Should we do something with it?” Ienzo asked.

“Like smoke it? Would you want to?”

“I’m… curious. That is if you want to.”

“I think it would be fun to get high with you.”

“Exactly. Fun.” There was something analytical in his gaze, though.

“I just have to let Aerith know I’ll be out of commission. Then we can do whatever.” He felt a blush heat his face as he texted her. Though how was this worse than drinking? Not that he did that often anymore, either. All she sent in response was a thumbs-up emoji. With slightly trembling fingers he took the fragile papers out of the bag and tried to roll a joint. He’d never done this, only seen it done. Ienzo watched with interest. Demyx half expected him to start taking notes. “Let’s go over to the couch.”

Ienzo handed him the box of matches they usually used for candles. They sat, knee to knee, as if about to commit a crime.

“I’ll start it.” It took two tries to get it lit, and he coughed. Already he could tell this stuff was stronger than whatever sketchy stuff Luxord or Xigbar had purloined. He handed it off to Ienzo.

“How do I--”

“Just breathe, but not too deeply. And hold it for a few seconds.”

Ienzo did so. Demyx had to admit that seeing him do it was funny. He coughed as well.

For a few minutes they passed it back and forth, not saying much. Already his head was feeling light, watery.

“I’m not sure I feel anything,” Ienzo admitted. “Am I supposed to?”

“You might not.”

“It tastes… interesting.” He tapped some ash into an empty glass. “How odd, the things people will do for fun .”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“I’ve seen some interesting things. On missions and whatnot. But then there’s always this veil of impersonal...ness.” He trailed off, and touched a hand to his brow.

“You alright?”

“It stopped.”

“What?” A little wave of fear broke over him.

“The anxiety. It stopped.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s part of it too.”

Ienzo leaned back heavily. “How strange . I feel so…” He stumbled over his words. “Things feel more the same than I thought. Just slightly… bigger.”

Demyx laughed. “You’re stoned.”

“Am I?”

“I think.” He took the last drag off the joint and ground it out. He felt warm, sleepy.

"The silence is just so lovely," Ienzo said. "My head is always so full of noise--you have no idea. Everything is always too much."

"I can help you, you know. I can give you medicine which will help. Er. Well, like, actual medicine, not this."

He lay on his back and rested his head in Demyx's lap. "I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"Afraid who I'd be without it?" His eyes were glassy. Demyx brushed the hair from Ienzo's face and looked at both his eyes. "It's the most constant thing in my life. From the past, I mean."

"I don't want it to eat at you, though."

"No." Ienzo took Demyx's hand and began to toy with it, feeling at his fingers absently. It was hard to tell how much of this was weed or how much of this was true blue Ienzo, without the weight of fear or inhibitions. "I will consider it. Truthfully. This is the happiest I've ever been. It may just be my nature."

"Could be."

Demyx stroked his hair. It was so soft. He couldn't believe how soft it was. "God, I'm high," he mumbled.

Ienzo snorted. "You're not so above it all."

"Do I normally seem that way?"

"I can feel you detach yourself sometimes. That you take care of me sometimes instead of yourself."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Demyx looked at him for a long time. "I feel like I'm pretending to be the person I want to be. I want to be better than I was. But it's hard. I get mad. I get frustrated and upset. Slipping into old habits would be so easy." Ienzo shut his eyes.

"I am listening. That feels very good."

"You're like a cat. Independent. Curious. Stubborn."

"Hard to win over. Hard to get rid of."

"I don't ever want to get rid of you."

He smiled. "How sweet."

"I can be very sweet. When I want to be."

Ienzo touched his cheek. "It is in your nature."

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well, I am.” He opened his eyes. “We’ve changed so much. And we’ll probably keep changing.”

“I know.”

“It feels… strange.”

Ienzo’s expression was sharp and serious, but Demyx couldn’t contain the bubble of laughter that caught in his throat.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“It’s not funny ,” Demyx said, and it was true; the laughter was divorced from his actual emotions. “As it is terrifying .”

“We’ve nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s hard to get myself to believe that.” His eyes were watering. “Sometimes I swear I’m going to wake up and this will all be gone.” He was verbalizing thoughts he hadn’t been aware of.

“I know. I feel the same. But that is simply… simply not the case.” Ienzo sat up and tried to fix his hair. “I wish I could prove it to you.”

“...Zexion would never have been this nice to me.”

He smiled. “Demyx would never listen so emphatically.” Ienzo kissed him. “Our lives have been full of odd coincidences, but I’m glad you were one.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“To even calculate the odds of us existing at the same time--much less falling for one another--it must be one in a trillion.”

Demyx groaned. “I do not want to think about math right now.”

“I second that notion… I feel a tad dizzy.”

“Lay back down. It’ll pass.”

He did, pressing his face into one of the couch cushions. “This sensation is so curious,” he mumbled. “I should like to… examine it in more detail.”

Demyx laughed. “I can do that.”

#beyond this existence: new life #demyx #ienzo #zemyx #aerith #tw: mild drug use #beyond this existence #i'm sorry but the idea of them smoking weed together was too funny to resist #i realize this chapter probably says a lot about me

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