#one of our cats is also bothering me while i write this

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Featured Fic Friday!

Welcome to Featured Fic Friday! A day where I, or someone who suggests one, tell you about a fanfic that I really enjoy! Spoiler's under the cut! Today's featured fic is...

The Untouchable Moon by Mutatedbunnies (Explicit, Incomplete)

Nightmare is an unstoppable force of evil in the Multiverse, spreading his negativity as far as he is able to reach. Many fear him, many worship him. But he's gone missing. A "Slice of Life" fic in which one of the biggest baddies in the Multiverse decides to give up his career as a villain and shack up with a simple barista skeleton. How will Nightmare adjust to life as a simple monster, working to make a living next to his partner? And what about the life and the monsters he left behind to pursue his new life?

An explicit fic this time, differing from previous fics I've recommended. I chose this one specifically because it's a very different vibe from what I normally offer, both in the contents & the emotions it gives off.

Unfortunately discontinued, the story leaves off at a place that doesn't leave you wanting too much, a satisfying ending. It's hard to describe the appeal, what drew me to this fic. I think was the vibe the fic gives off, a soft melancholic darkness. Maybe I'm just a sucker for slice of life fics.

Regardless, the author does a good job of making you attached to the characters. The relationships are well written, especially with how the characters interact with each other.

Spoilers ahead!

I love how Ccino & Nightmare are written. The way that they act around each other is so interesting to me, & how their relationship progresses the longer they're around each other. They're both so in love, & changing each other in ways that benefit the both of them.

Speaking of relationships, let's talk about Dream & Cross. More of a background ship, we don't get to see much of the two. What we do get to see, though, is a formerly forbidden romance growing with the obstacle no longer blocking it from doing so. It's incredibly cute to read the two interact with each other.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not putting a bell on my cat?

Cw for discussion of animal death and injury in vague terms.

So I live in a neighborhood with a lot of stray/outdoor cats. In fact, it's sorta that way all over the city. A few weeks ago as of writing this, I picked up a stray because I saw that it had an open wound on its neck; since it was amicable to being handled I decided to take it to the vet to be treated (and neutered, since I'd already gotten hold of it and obviously we don't need more strays.)

Recently, my cat of 15 years (we had him for 15 years, he was about 17-18 though) passed of old age, so I wasn't expecting my family to be willing to take a new cat in so soon. We even still have most of his stuff, so I figured it would be a matter of keeping the stray indoors until it was healed, then letting him go about his business. We all ended up getting attached over his two weeks of recovery though (if anyone is curious, it was a burst absess. While he was there we got him vaccinated and checked for other problems. Aside from ear mites, he was fine) so we got him a microchip, named him, and that was that.

My previous cat was also a rescue, though we picked him up from a shelter. At the time we also had a dog and a dog door, so keeping him inside would have been a logistical struggle we just... didn't care to bother with. By the time the dog passed, he'd had access to the outside for years and we saw no reason to suddenly cut him off from that. We obviously had to keep this new cat completely inside while his staples were in, but the plan was always to open up the dog door once he was healed and let him decide where he wanted to be. I don't like taking care of a litter box, my dad doesn't like the smell of cat, 3/4ths of the house is allergic (though that didn't stop us before), and this cat is much younger than our previous was, and has much more energy (vet estimated him at 6mo-1yr). At the beginning of last week (again, as of writing this) I got the go-ahead from the vet to let him outside and gladly did so. He hasn't gotten the hang of the dog door yet (our previous had the advantage of watching the dog go through to learn how to do it) but will go through open doors/windows and will return to the door or enter through the window if it's still open.

With context out of the way here comes the trouble: our neighbors. Our house is on the corner of the block and to our left is a house that takes tenants every so often. They've been here for as long as I (22m) have been alive and have been a nucance for probably longer than that. Their yard is atrocious, they planted bamboo that grew under the fence and into our property, and the woman who owns the house (presumably. Her husband might but I've never spoken to him) apparently has some moral issue with outdoor cats.

Sometime into owning our previous cat, she suddenly became very concerned with the bird population and insisted that we collar our cat and get him a bell so that he wouldn't catch birds. I'd like to point three things out: 1) our previous cat only had one eye, 2) we had tried to collar him before and he lost every single one so we gave up (breakaway collars so he didn't choke, 3) he caught birds despite both of these facts. Needless to say, I was not fucking thrilled about unsolicited advice from a woman I'd never spoken to, who let her unmitigated mess of invasive plants invade my garden, but whatever. She spoke to my little (10yro) sister about it at the time, only once, and never to me, so it wasn't an issue.

So I let this new cat out, right? I opened the dog door for him and he waltzed right on out, but I wasn't convinced he really knew how to operate it. About an hour or so without hearing him come in, I head through the back door to look for him. I got him from a different neighborhood, across town, while visiting a friend, so I figured I was allowed to be a little worried about him getting lost or overwhelmed. As soon as I step out onto the porch, the neighbor-lady calls over and asks me if my cat got out or I let it out.

I tell her I let him out. She asks me to put a bell on him. In an attempt to remain civil I ask her why. She says something about it being stupid, I ask her why it's stupid, she says cats eat birds and the bird populations are declining. I instantly want to call bull on cats being a leading reason of bird population decline, but I just tell her that I'll have to look that up, and ask her if she saw which way he went. (I'd like my restraint during this interaction noted, thanks.)

Anyway I don't find the cat but I get a good few patrols around the block, and eventually he comes back to the house sometime in the late-night early-morning. He does not use the dog door and waits for me to open the door instead (back door is on the way to the bathroom, I saw his stupid little face pressed against the glass when i went to piss).

I look up bird population decline articles. Most of them mention cats as a factor, along with clear windows. Primary factors are listed as deforestation and invasive species, pesticides, etc. I don't consider getting my cat a collar because I don't appreciate my neighbors input, especially when she's going to be hypocritical and ignore that planting native species may help bird population more than putting out fifty fucking feeders and complaining that the stray cats see her yard as a buffet. Anyway.

I let him out again yesterday, this time through the window in my room, which leads to the back porch. I felt comfortable leaving it open since I work at my desk and would hear if anything not-cat came inside. (Allergies were a problem, but I'd really rather he have a way to get inside if he wanted/needed, and he STILL will not open the dog door on his own. Obviously I'm not helping by continuing to give him alternatives but I am soft-hearted.) Sometime in the evening my dad comes in and tells me that when the cat next comes back, I should keep him inside because "The neighbor lady is being a bitch and I don't want to deal with it." I assume she said something to him, so I agree and when the cat comes in for the night I close the window.

This morning I saw what had ACTUALLY got him.in a twist, because not only did she say something but she printed out and taped a note to our door. Oh, how I would love to send a picture of it here, but I don't know how to embed photos in asks so you'll just have to deal with my transcription:

CAT FACTS

Cats kill birds. Cars kill cats.

Here's some links to look up.

[I won't type the links out. First one is an article titled "how long do outdoor cats live indoor vs outdoor cats" and the second is "faq cats and their effects on birds". I have not read either of these.]

Ask Kelly about Dixie. Ask Jean about Madeline - wait don't - she ran over her with her own car and broke her pelvis because the cat was older and couldn't hear well.

You have a very beautiful young cat. He deserves a safe loving home. Act like you care for your cat or give him to a home that will. I have four indoor cats - three are orange boys. I have a soft spot for orange boy cats. They are very happy as inside cats.

Be responsible.

[Handwritten at the bottom:]

Your cat is sleeping in my backyard. Why are you forcing him to be an outdoor cat!?

[End]

The amount of violent rage this fills me with is unreal. Kelly is our across-the-road neighbor, I assume Jean is another neighbor (I'm bad with names) and I CANNOT imagine that either of them appreciate being. Used like this. Also, I'm very glad her cats are happy indoors but this cat is not, he wants to go outside, he has been crowding the window all morning waiting for me to open it. (I respect me father so I won't, but I disrespect my neighbor so I really, REALLY fucking want to.)

So AITA for disregarding the safety/happiness of my cat and the decline of the bird population by not putting a collar on him and heartlessly forcing him outside? I'm no further inclined to force him indoors or get a collar, especially with her continued insistence, and in fact I'm so far making an active effort to restrain myself from going over and talking to her because I just want to turn it into an argument.

[jazz-fics]

Title: Tri-Love

Requested: @crazyabout-writing

Plot: "You could write something about Dr. House, where he is in love with a doctor who is a pediatrician but their relationship is complicated, she is young and beautiful, but then a new doctor arrives. Tall, with black hair and always wearing a black suite, he falls in love with her and house gets jealous."

Warning: Jealous House

"You have three minutes..." Y/N says while holding her phone to keep track of the timer. "Go!"

The boy on the exam table grabs the pen provided before furiously drawing his best farm scene. Y/N had found that the boy's parents had to step out of the exam room so she took it upon herself to entertain him.

There is a knock on the door as Dr. House comes in. She looks at him with curiosity. "Whatever it is, it can wait three minutes." She points to the kid on the table, now drawing a lopsided cat.

Gregory House raises a brow. "Does that cat have four legs or--"

Before House's joke can make it out she quickly grabs his wrist and tugs him out of the exam room.

"You were not just going to make a joke like that in a children's exam room. Forget the exam room, this is pediatrics. What are you doing up here?"

House makes a dramatic gasp. "Me? Make an inappropriate joke?"

"Haha," Y/N says unenthusiastically. "What is it?"

"Lunch," he says with a snippy undertone. "You're late. And here I am finding why."

She groans. Of course she's late. When is she not? Before she could apologize, House brings more attention to them with an outburst just as the parents walk in. The situation was made even more embarrassing when Y/N phone alarm goes off. "Oh my Gosh! She's late to lunch because she's been cheating on me!"

"House," she grumbles under her breath before smiling at the child's parents and opening the door for them. Ignoring House, she looks to the child on the table. "Is that what I think it is?"

She shoots House a glare as she shuts the exam room door in his face.

*********************************************************

It really wasn't long that Y/N had been done with the child before another one came along.

"So, what's this I hear about a new doctor on the floor?" "It's you, House. You're the new doctor on the floor and you're not even supposed to be up here," Y/N sighs as she drops the patient folder at the nursing station.

"No," he says while tapping his cane on the floor. "I mean the fancy one. Dr....Shickle?"

"It's Schell"

"Like the sea shell?"

She ignores him as she picks up another folder. "It's pretty busy up here, ya know? Why not bother Wilson? You know, the head of oncology that doesn't seem to actually have any work to do.”

A snort leaves House’s mouth but Y/N can finally see through him.

“There’s a new doctor on this floor,” he merely says.

As he speaks, said new doctor arrives. Dr. Schell is wearing a black suit under his white coat which he takes off and folds over his arm. He looks at Y/N with a smile. ���Need company for lunch, Y/N?”

The new doctor’s voice is enough to make any woman’s knees weak. Smooth and deep. House knows this and his eyes shoot to Y/N before he steps in. “She has one. She thanks you though.” House tried to make himself look taller despite his cane. Y/N arches a brow. This should be interesting.

Dr. Schell smiles and House hates the dimple on his cheek. "Well, I'm sure she doesn't mind more company?" His eyes drop down to Y/N. "Our lunch is at the same time."

"Actually," House says while nearly knocking something off the counter with his cane which Y/N is sure was on purpose. "She does mind." With another half-hearted and surly purposeful swing, his cane hits the lollipop dish off the counter and causes Y/N to jump despite seeing it happen. Y/N bent down to pick up the candies when she felt a firm hand on her rear that caused heat to rise up the back of her neck. Dr. Schell noticed the blush on her cheeks and raised a brow when he saw what happened. "I'm sure that's not ok, Dr.?"

"House. Also known as this one's husband so no, she does not need your company."

Y/N mouth drops open in surprise at House's rebuttal and is even more surprised when House hooks her arm with his and leads her away.

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE (CH 2) | Michael x Reader

so when i was writing this, my editor Insisted i use a grilled cheese gif for this chapter. you'll see why... i hope you enjoy though LMAO

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago."

WARNING: graphic depiction of deaths, animal violence

PREV || NEXT

"Has anyone ever shown you kindness?" Your voice had Michael opening his eyes, blinking as he looked up at you slowly, your hands tangled in his wet, sudsy hair. He was sprawled out on the porcelain bathtub while you washed his hair, the room dim and sleepy and smelling of lavender soap. He had no qualms letting his legs and arms rest upon the rim to have extra room. You’d since become accustomed to him, no longer flushing at his nakedness, so washing the blood off his skin didn’t bother you.

You’d since bought black washcloths and a black towel for Michael so your father wouldn’t get suspicious about any bloodstains. Lounge clothes - some sweatpants and a t-shirt finally in his actual size - sat folded on the counter beside the sink, his navy blue jumpsuit in a pile on the cool, linoleum floor.

For the past few weeks, you two established a routine of sorts. Michael would get hurt or hungry and come visit you. Sometimes he'd watch you sleep but he'd usually be gone by morning. With your dad's presence in the house very touch and go, it was hard for Michael to stay for any extended period of time. Sometimes he watched you from a distance whenever you'd go in the garden but that was the extent of it.

You knew it wasn't normal for him to care about another person so you did your best to make it easy for him. No more lunging at armed police officers for you, you'd lamented to him in a joking manner. You hadn't been able to see his face but you got the impression he'd glared at you.

You'd also taken to touching him more, getting him to reassociate touch with compassion. It wasn't easy to undo years of trauma but you did little things here and there. Brushing his hands with your own, touching his arm when you wanted attention, small things. He was building a tolerance to it, you could tell. Washing his hair now was the most you'd touched him beyond patching him up after run-ins with the police.

But progress was progress.

Today, he hadn't come home bloody but he had come to you for something. He'd shown up at the backdoor, made a beeline for the bathroom, and you'd gotten the message. Bathing him had also become pretty regular, though you still recalled the first few times where it'd ended with him shaking from how overwhelmed he was by your touch.

Now, though, his gaze bore into you, staring up at you like a big lazy cat. Like a lion too content to strike. Your hands had stilled, still poised to scrub at his scalp. He needed a haircut, you noted to yourself.

"Besides me," you clarified as you resumed scrubbing in slow circles. "You don't… You're-" You huffed, trying to find the words. "I feel like people didn't care for you like you needed them to. If that makes sense." 

Were you anyone else, you don't doubt he'd kill you for saying that. Instead, he just glared at you, pretty hazel eyes narrowed to slits. In anger or confusion, you couldn't tell.

That was yet another development. He'd been taking his mask off of his own accord now, even when he didn't have a reason to. The first time he'd done it had been because his hair was too long and sat uncomfortable in the mask, tickling against his ears and neck. You offered to cut it and, while it took some reassurance and thought on his part, you'd come home one day to him sitting on your bed. Scissors in one hand and mask in the other, clutching it like a child would to a security blanket. He hadn't been shaking or looking up at you with fearful eyes but his jaw had been clenched hard as he white knuckled the accursed mask. A wordless question you'd answered with nimble fingers and gentle tugging on his curls.

Having something so sharp close to his vulnerable neck hadn't been his idea of a good time regardless if it was his idea or not. He'd gotten up half a dozen times during the haircut to stand in the corner to come down from what was probably overstimulation. You were patient with him though.

You'd gotten better at reading him. He'd gotten better at leaving you clues.

In the present, he sat up and slid his legs back into the water. Wet hair slipped from between your fingers as he turned to properly stare at you. Michael was interesting to you still. You could tell he was curious about you too. He stared at you often, like when you watered your plants, washed his clothes, or made food in the kitchen. You felt his eyes on you constantly no matter what.

"What?" You asked with a small sigh, staring back at him with the same intensity.

Michael gave you a slow blink, similar to the ones Mayhem gave you as a show of trust. "Don't gimme that," you teased, smirking at him and motioning for him to sit back down. "I just- I always feel bad thinking about it, in retrospect. I mean, you grew up in an asylum alone. Didn't it-"

He interrupted you by sliding a wet hand around your throat, holding you still as though to physically stop your ramblings. Not squeezing, just holding. You got the message there: let it go. He lay back down and you resumed washing his hair, unbothered by that exchange.

Things like that were normal with him. It had freaked you out at first when he'd wrapped his hand harshly around your throat and pinned you in a doorway. But you'd slowly begun to understand him. He didn't have a way to communicate that wasn't through violence or knives.

Or hospital rooms under scrutiny, you reminded yourself with a grimace. You masked it behind a soft tune you hummed, resuming washing his hair.

Once he was cleaned and dressed, jumpsuit in the wash, you ventured back downstairs to make dinner and feed Mayhem. Michael trailed after you, hair dripping dark spots along his shoulders where it was still damp. He didn't like the hair dryer very much and only tolerated you using it to get his hair comfortably damp. No more.

“You’re probably due for another haircut by the way,” you said as you opened the fridge. Mayhem was immediately rubbing up on Michael’s leg, meowing insistently.

He looked down at her, standing comfortably in the doorway to the kitchen. You glanced over your shoulder to look at him and felt struck with the knowledge that, if it weren't for his injured eye breaking the illusion, it almost felt like you just had a boyfriend over. Your face warmed up at the thought and you snapped your head back around to stare into the white, chilled expanse of the fridge. "Umm… anything specific you want tonight?"

When you looked back over at him, you jumped in surprise when he was barely a few inches from you. Jesus, you thought to yourself. You didn't think you'd ever get used to how quiet he moved sometimes.

Michael tilted his head as he stared at the fridge with you. "I need to go shopping soon, huh?"

He didn't say anything but you could almost hear his nod.

You liked how expressive he'd gotten as the two of you began to trust each other. Little things like that made the whole thing feel domestic somehow. 

"Well, hope you like grilled cheese." You snagged the almost-empty package of sliced cheese and dangled it tantalizingly. "I'll go shopping tomorrow, promise. If you want anything in particular, let me know." You said as you grabbed the bread from the cabinet. Before he could say - or, technically, not say - you spun on your heel. "Besides pumpkin pie."

He nodded once and you smirked.

Domestic, your brain said again in an almost mocking tone. You swallowed and tried to focus on the sandwiches and not the way Michael stared at you. You began buttering the bread as the pan warmed up and tried to not envision life being like this forever: painfully domestic and sweet with Haddonfield's best known serial killer in soft lounge clothes you'd bought him, curled up on the couch eating an early lunch together after you'd washed his hair.

The sound of the front door rattling open was out of place and terrifying. Never in your life had you felt as though the ground would swallow you as your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. You spun to face Michael and quickly assessed your options.

There were two doorways that led out of the kitchen - one that faced the living room and another that led into the hallway to the stairs. There was a dividing wall between the two doorways. Meaning if you could get Michael into the hallway, he'd be out of sight for at least the briefest few seconds it took your dad to walk towards you.

"Upstairs, now!" You whisper-yelled, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him towards the hallway. "Stay quiet, he'll go away soon."

Hopefully, you thought to yourself. Hopefully he will.

"You're home early." You called to him as you took your spot at the stove again, spreading butter on bread and placing them in the pan.

Your dad sounded exhausted, shrugging off his outer coat and tossing it atop the back of the couch before slumping in his chair. "I decided to come home early. It's been an exhausting week. But Myers seems to be taking a break from killing these past few days."

You couldn't help but frown. Not killing? Sure you'd noticed less blood on his clothes but surely he'd stopped altogether. So close to Halloween too…

"Cool, I was, uh, making lunch." You called out over the pan sizzling. "You want some?"

The telltale creaks of the wooden floor had your hair standing up on end. It wasn't like normal sneaking around when you had a boyfriend, this was Michael Myers you were hiding. Right under his nose. Even if your dad didn't immediately go for his gun when he saw him, you were still a liar. And an accomplice to his crimes.

"Grilled cheese, huh?" He smiled for the first time since he'd taken on the case. "Want some help? I can-" The sound of his phone ringing cut him off, making him grimace. "I'll take this outside," he sighed as he went back out the door. You sighed with relief and looked towards the doorway to the stairs.

Michael stood there, mask on, gripping a knife tight in his hand. You had no idea where he'd gotten it, since your knives were accounted for.

You tried to seem reassuring. "He's probably going to get called back into work, it's okay." Even though you'd gotten used to it, you still swallowed when you saw the glint of the knife in the dim lighting of the doorway. "He, um, he said you haven't been killing lately?" 

Michael was eerily still. Just staring at you.

"Is everything…okay?" It felt a bit weird asking when he was going to kill someone again. Like it was just a casual hobby of his. "Just let me know, alright?"

He just stared at you. His walls were back up, you could tell, so you tried to not take it personally.

When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago." His gun was out, alarming you. "Have you… have you seen anything?"

"No." You swallowed around your lie, quickly turning the stove off, lunch forgotten. "No, it's been quiet. I was out in my garden, mostly."

He didn't seem convinced though. "She said he was circling around the house before coming inside."

At that, he froze. He held a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. You wanted to roll your eyes at how comical this was but you also couldn't afford to break character. Scared young child of the police detective, home alone with a killer in this house. 

"Where's your cat?" He whispered, glancing up at the ceiling as though expecting to hear footsteps.

Glancing around, you tried to play up your alarm. "I don't know!" You whisper-yelled. "Do you think he's-?"

"Dead, then." Your dad's bluntness made you flinch. "Myers usually kills the pets first. Keeps 'em from sounding an alarm." He didn't even try to look sympathetic as he crept towards the stairs. You followed after him as he crept silently from room to room, pushing the door open slightly before scanning the room with his gun out. It made you anxious and you kept periodically glancing towards your bedroom, dreading the impending inspection. First the hall closet, then his bedroom, then the bathrooms, and finally: your bedroom.

You felt sweat drip down your temple as he pushed open the door. Everything felt tense, suffocating you as you chewed anxiously on the nail of your thumb.

He swung open the closet door and fired at the first sign of movement.

Mayhem yowled, a sharp, piercing sound, then darted past your legs as he took off down the hall. "MAYHEM!" You shrieked in horror, watching blood trail behind him faster than you could catch him. You ignored your dad's stammered apologies and took off after your cat.

The blood trail went down the stairs and out through the back door, which had been left cracked open to let Mayhem come and go as he pleased. Now he was gone. Your heart sank as you ran outside, crying for Mayhem to come back. In the tall, mud-riddled forest it was hard to see any kind of blood trail or spot your all black cat. Minutes ticked by with no response and you fell to your knees, wrapping your arms around yourself as you bawled.

He was your little kitty. And now he was gone.

"Sweetheart, I- I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was there." Your dad tried to explain as he watched you from the doorway. "It- It'll come back, I'm sure."

"You SHOT him!" You rounded on him almost instantly, storming up to meet him and relishing in the way he backed up in fear of your anger. "You SHOT him and now he might DIE out there!" While you didn't consider yourself an angry nor violent person, it felt vindicating to shove him and watch him stumble back. "You don't even CARE!"

"No, I don't!" He shouted, trying to scare you back. "It's just a cat! What if Myers had been there, huh?"

You felt hysteric. "I don't care about that! Fuck, dad, I care about my CAT!"

Suddenly, he'd grabbed you by the shoulders and slammed you into the nearby wall, his voice hissing like a viper when he spoke. "I don't give a shit about your fucking cat. I am stressed enough as it is and I am focused on finding Michael fucking Myers, not your shitty little cat. Let. It. Go."

The sign of movement in the shadows behind him made you smile.

Michael grabbed your dad by the back of his shirt and yanked him back harshly, letting him fall to the kitchen floor. He stood there, knife tight in his fist as he stood over the whimpering man who scrambled for his gun. 

You watched with an empty expression as Michael kicked the gun aside, skittering on the tiled floor and out of reach. "Grab it!" He hissed at you. Michael tilted his head down at him but he tried to not be intimidated. "Grab my gun, just-"

Reality began to settle in as shock wore off. Your ears were still ringing from the gunshots and you could smell the charred butter coming off the stove. "Michael." Your mouth moved but you didn't feel like your words were yours. "I'm okay."

A heavy boot thudded against your dad's chest and you watched him scramble to try and understand. The dark pits of the mask's eye holes bore into you, almost searching for permission.

"You've been hiding him." Your dad gasped in horror. "You've been hiding the man I've been hunting. Right. Under. My fucking nose!" He roared, struggling to get out from under Michael, only ending up grabbed like a scruffed kitten in his attempts to lunge at you. "How long!? How long has he been hiding here?!"

You didn't feel like answering. So you didn't.

He didn't like that though. "What have you two been doing? What, do you nurse him back to health under my fucking roof every night? Is that why you've been buying first aid shit?"

None of this felt real to you in any substantial way. It felt like a movie almost, a sick indie film about a serial killer you'd grown attached to finally snapping and slaughtering your family because you'd finally given him the chance to get close. You watched Michael press the tip of his knife to your dad's sternum and could almost see the anger and hatred rolling off the masked man in waves.

After all, you'd given him a hard line of not hurting Mayhem. And your dad just broke that rule.

You backed up against the fridge and slid to the floor, watching with a distant expression as Michael wrestled the man to the floor. "Yeah." You said quietly, more to yourself than to him. "I clean him. Bandage him. He protects me." A wet laugh left your throat at the absurdity of it all. "We're partners."

No point in hiding it anymore.

"M-maybe I should call Loomis, s-see if I can get you two joint rooms in the fucking asylum-!" The man below Michael yelled out, his words muffling as Michael jabbed the knife into him. Wet squelching sounds that became almost monotonous as hot red sprays erupted from the holes in his neck. Puddles of red seeped beneath the man's body and Michael seemed to relish in the thrill.

"You killed my cat," you mumbled bitterly to the corpse of the man you once called dad.

And you watched as the body ran cold with Michael's anger. He stood up, towering over you as he tracked bloody footprints as he approached you. "Hi." You said absently, giving him a small smile. "You'll have to kill our neighbor. No witnesses."

He tilted his head curiously and you just let your head fall between your knees. You didn't want to talk about this anymore than you had to. "Just- Just get rid of the body, okay? I'll clean up."

Had you looked up, you would have seen his nod.

The stench of bleach burned your nose and made your eyes water as you scrubbed at the now blood-free kitchen floor. You'd opened the windows to air out the smell but it still felt like it was suffocating. But there was no evidence anymore, thank god.

You didn't ask Michael what he'd done with the bodies. You'd kept your head down when he'd lifted it up and carried it with him out the back door and you were content not knowing. It would only serve to upset you.

Clutching the rim of the sink, you let out a long, pained sigh. Things were going to change now. Your father and Mayhem's blood was all gone, the knives would be disinfected, and Michael's jumpsuit would go through the wash again. No evidence any of this had even happened.

Logically, you knew this should upset you. It did, only in the sense that the wet plunging sounds of the knife echoed in your mind. But you couldn't feel anything beyond anger that he'd shot Mayhem. That he didn't care about you, only his work. It infuriated you to think about how little your life would change with him gone. The house was bought and paid for, you knew everything he owned would be left to you, and life would continue on.

He didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. You repeated this mantra over and over to yourself as you heard the back door open.

Michael stood there, his hands and suit stained with blood. Flecks of dark red stained the white mask in harsh streaks that made you want to hurl. "How, um, how did it go?" You tried giving him a smile but fell short. He approached you and you did your best to hide your flinch when he took your wrist. Red stained your skin and you heard the sickening stabbing again. "Sorry," you mumbled, "I should have done something to- to try to make him leave, or-"

Michael cut you off with a harsh tug on your arm. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes behind the mask, your own wide in confusion. He just stared you down, only gripping you tighter when you tried to pull away.

His silent question felt loud in the little kitchen, even if he said nothing. "I'm… I'll be okay." But you weren't sure if you were telling that to him or yourself. "It was inevitable. I- I just didn't think it would be so soon. But, um, I knew I was… I knew I was going to be sticking with you. Partners, right?"

You didn't wait for any type of response, gesturing to his jumpsuit. "Lets, um, get you into clean clothes, yeah?"

Michael didn't budge.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he lifted his hand towards your face, dragging a bloody finger down your cheek and marveled at the way it stained your skin. A red to match his own,

And as quickly as he came, he left. His footfalls were heavy as he went up to the bathroom and left you floundering in the kitchen. You broke from your trance only when you heard the shower running. Swallowing, you followed his trail upstairs to collect his bloody clothes. You could only hope the blood was fresh enough to come out easy.

When you passed by Mayhem's food dish, you winced at the memory of your cat's blood streaked across the house. You filled his bowls and set them outside, hoping the prospect of dinner would entice him home. 

It was the best you could do, really…

The cops came two days later. When no one on the force had seen or heard from him in a few days, they'd come by to check. It wasn't hard to play up your distress. The five stages of grief had hit you harder than expected. On the first day, you'd just yelled at Michael, slamming your fists into his chest as he watched you curiously. You'd wondered to yourself after sobbing over breakfast how he'd felt after his sister died. You'd only ever heard stories but you wanted to ask him.

"We found him off a backroad down the way with an older woman in the car," the officer interviewing you asked. "Do you have any idea what that was about?"

You swallowed and shook your head. "He, um, he mentioned he got a call from Gladys. That, uh, Myers was outside her house so- so he told me he was going to take her to a hotel and then go back to work." Your voice trembled as you spoke. "H-he'd been working so much, I-" 

The officer gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry, kid." 

Michael was easily named the killer so you weren't even considered a suspect. What they didn't know was that he was taking this opportunity while the police were busy to kill again, letting out his frustrations that had been building up. 

He hadn't left you alone since your dad had died. Always hovering in doorways or your wrist if you were close enough. You knew Michael well enough at this point to know he didn't necessarily feel bad for what he did. But he was certainly capable of fearing your reaction. You could easily turn him in now, all wound up emotions like a ticking time bomb.

But you didn't. You were partners. A pact now sealed in your father's blood

Once the police left, you wanted to get out of the house. It all felt too suffocating. You just needed a moment without Michael's eyes on you, if such a thing existed. So you'd gotten dressed into proper clothes and went into town. You knew the whole town would be looking at you so you tried to keep yourself presentable while still looking a wreck.

Which wasn't hard, after everything that happened.

News reports of your dad's false crime scene would be all over the news in a day. All over the televisions, newspapers, and your dad's police buddies would be sharing stories in bars over drinks. You felt sick at the knowledge that he'd had a life outside you and your little bubble of fake domesticity with a serial killer.

It all felt like a huge reality check that left you stumbling like a drunk on the curbside.

You snapped back to your body as you stared emptily at some crummy greeting cards in the little general store. You'd been walking the aisles with no clear goal in mind and many of the other patrons simply let you pass with pitiful smiles that made your skin crawl. "I should've looked at the fridge…" You mumbled to no one.

"Hey." A soft voice interrupted your train of thought and you gave a glance over your shoulder. Laurie Strode, dressed in all black like she was attending a funeral. Maybe she was - a funeral for the town. You knew the paranoia of Michael stalking her never really went away and you felt a little bad for her. A part of you wished you could reassure her.

“Oh, um, hi.” You stuttered inelegantly. “What- um-“

“I’m sorry,” she gave you a sorrowful look. You were getting pretty sick of those. “I heard about your dad… Michael is ruthless.”

You swallowed around a lump building in your throat. “Y-yeah. I hope, um, you’re doing okay too.” You tried to give her a reassuring smile but you weren’t sure if it came out like a grimace.

Laurie just laughed, no joy behind her tight smile. “I’ll survive. Always do.”

You said your polite goodbyes and you left her, now even more uneasy. It was jarring to be reminded that life existed outside your little house in the forest, that Michael's actions had consequences that spread far beyond just you.

It made you wonder if Michael’s intentions were what you thought they were. He’d never leave Haddonfield. Not willingly. He’d continue killing with or without you in his life.

And that knowledge made you feel sick.

Your dad's funeral was mostly uneventful. A few of his work friends came to console you but you denied their company when you went to the cemetery. Your dad had told you many times when you were young that, when he died, he wanted to be poured into water used to help grow flowers on your late mothers grave. It had struck you as odd then but now you understood.

Guilt still ate at you. He'd probably haunt you if he didn't get to be reunited with your mom in some way, so you'd bought some daisies - her favorite, according to him - and brought them with his ashes and a bottle of water. Haddonfield's graveyard was nothing spectacular, just rows and rows of headstones. Some newer with fresh flowers and photos, some older and covered in moss and dirt. The forgotten ones always made your heart clench.

You pointedly kept your head down when you passed Judith Myers' grave. Her parents had a joint headstone beside her, a spot they'd reserved for themselves a year after she'd died. According to stories, they'd believed Michael deserved nothing but cremation. No tombstone, no funeral, just death in silence.

The fate of the Myers family had been a horrible story. Even after their son was shipped off to Smith's Grove, the family still received harsh criticisms for what they'd done. While Michael's actions were certainly the focus, some people still believed the parents had some sway in it or had influenced his behavior. He'd only been a little boy, after all. A possibly mentally ill, neglected child whose parents had, allegedly, favored Judith to the point Michael acted out.

A car crash killed them, according to the news. You weren't sure. The timings had been too close and their funerals had been closed caskets. But you'd been too young to really care about that sort of thing. Now, though, you were curious. It felt like you'd get answers somehow if you knew. Regardless, Michael was left without guardianship and became a ward of the state, locked away in a hospital for fifteen years. At first, the town didn't know what to think of him. The poor, unstable boy who now had no one waiting for him if he ever got out. Many villainized him, of course, but some wanted to see him make a full recovery. They saw a traumatized child who needed help.

It was only after Michael broke out of Smith’s Grove and killed again that public opinion on him changed.

You pushed those thoughts away and focused on kneeling before your mothers grave. Your fingers were still damp from the wet earth you'd pulled out as you'd dug a little hole for the flowers all on autopilot. The little flowers looked nice, spots of white and yellow against mucky browns and greens. This wasn't that different from gardening, you thought to yourself as you added the water into the jar of your father's ashes. Not that different at all.

It felt a bit weird. But it was his wish. After everything you'd done, the least you could do was honor that. Besides, you didn’t really think you could cope with having the jar of his ashes in the house you’d let him die in. So you poured the water over the flowers, dirt under your nails as you showered them graciously.

You'd never made a habit of talking to your mom's grave. Your dad did it a few times and you'd seen people doing it before but there was just no appeal to you. Talking to air felt weird and you weren't exactly going to start now. You'd never known your mom, she didn't need to hear your stories.

She’d died when you were young so it wasn't like you knew her. The concept of a mother meant more to you than who she specifically did. When you were growing up, sometimes you'd feel a longing absence that she wasn't there but the woman buried beneath your feet still meant nothing to you. A stranger whose photos lined the walls of your dad's bedroom - photos you would probably store in the attic. Like you'd never really known them. A part of your dad died with your mom anyways so the symbolism felt right.

He’d always go on and on about how much you looked like her, how similar you two were, that sort of crap. Now, staring at her headstone, you wondered what she’d think of you.

The feeling of eyes on you has become commonplace for you now. An is-ness rather than a concern. So you didn't even bother lifting your head. Just slumped forward, cross-legged, and picking at the dirt under your nails, flicking it at the daisies. "Do you ever miss them?" You asked aloud. You knew Michael was close enough to hear, especially since you were alone. "Your parents, I mean. I doubt you miss your sister too much. I mean, I heard what you did with her headstone when you killed those high schoolers." The bitterness in your tone was not missed but it didn't feel right to put words in his mouth.

"I'm still trying to decide how I feel." You sighed, poking at soft petals. "I never knew my mother so I can't miss her. She wasn't part of my life, only her ghost was. But I don't know how I feel about my dad dying. It always felt like I was competing with her for his affection. He loved her so much and could barely spare me a passing glance…" You swallowed and your throat clicked. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd have been happier if I had died and she'd lived.

If Michael Myers had to be the one to hear your confessions, at least you knew he wouldn't tell anyone.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled. "It's weird. I haven't decided if I hate him for that yet. If I hate him at all, even." When you looked up, Michael was staring down at you, face hidden behind the mask. You almost envied his ability to simply hide his feelings away. You'd never been able to avoid wearing your heart on your sleeve. "Do you ever think about if your parents wished it had been you instead of Judith?"

The silence felt suffocating and you broke into a helpless sob. The kind of crying that you did when no one was around and it felt like nothing was ever going to be okay again. Michael sat down beside you in the dirt, silent companionship through your tears.

He didn't say anything. But he didn't have to.

[l3tm31nn0w]

Lessons in the Dark

Chapter 1: A Knock at the Door

Professor Albin Eberhart Von Franz x fem!reader

You’re a young woman interested in the fantastical world of angels and demons and you seek out Professor Von Franz to mentor you in more ways than one.

(Slow burn, eventual smut, age gap, mentor/protege relationship, reader is in her 20s)

After months of searching up and down Wisborg you finally arrived to his door. You knocked, a loud echoing knock, and almost immediately you heard “GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!” from deep inside the home. You weren’t going to give up that easy.

You knocked again, and the voice inside grew angrier, but also much closer. He was finally coming to the door. After what must have been your 15th knock on the door, it swung open. “What on God’s earth do you want?” Said the man in an exasperated tone. “Professor Albin Eberhart Von Franz?” You asked quizzically. “Yes fraulein, what on earth are you doing here?” You pulled a small book from your satchel, a rare tome written by the professor himself about the wonders and works of angels. “Professor Von Franz you opened my mind. I wish to learn from you.” At the sight of the book his eyes grew large and he finally ushered you into his home.

“Do you want some tea? Something to eat? Goodness sorry I’m not used to company. Wait, what’s your name? I haven’t even bothered to ask that.” You smiled at the old man’s frantic nature. “My name is y/n and some tea would be lovely professor.” He helped you out of your coat and led you to a seat. While he began preparing the tea a small Siamese cat lept up onto your lap. It was not the only cat, he had them roaming all over the place and you found this quirk of the old man rather endearing. The cat snuggled into your lap and you rubbed its head in response.

He finally returned with the tea and sat down across from you. “Now how in the world did you find that book fraulein y/n?” You smiled at his seriousness. “I have always been fond of angels. Not the passive boring ones you hear mothers speak of, no the real ones they talk of in the Old Testament. Fearful massive creatures! This has always brought great annoyance to my family, but while my father was away on business he found this book in some old Swiss book store and thought it was just another collection of guardian angel stories, but it wasn’t. It was yours. I devoured it ten times over and finally felt less alone in this world, a spark ignited inside me that there’s a whole scholarly world devoted to such mystical concepts. So I looked high and low for any of your writings and was able to find a modest amount your papers and I knew I had to meet you, speak to you. I’ve searched for you for years.”

The professor stared at you as if you were crazy, wholly unexpecting a young woman to be so enthralled with his writings. “Dear girl how on earth did you find me? I’ve done a good job of hiding out.” You smiled. “Do you remember your student Sievers? He’s my doctor. He saw me reading this book and told me you taught him and he knew where you were. He didn’t give it up so easily though so please do not chide him. Circumstances arose that led him to divulge.” His face warmed at the mention of your doctor. “Oh Sievers is a wonderful man! I do hope he’s treated you well as a patient?” You nodded in response. “Now fraulein, what are these circumstances that have led you to my door?” You took a deep breath, fearful of how he may respond to your next words.

“Professor I come to you with a two part proposition. You do not know me from Adam, but I beg you hear me out.” He nodded, clearly intrigued by you. “Before I lay out my proposal I must give you a bit of explanation as to how I have come to this conclusion. For the past several years I have been sickly, not of fever or plague, but of my womanhood. My menstruation is unusual and I find myself doubled over in great pain more often than not. Our lovely Dr. Sievers has done everything possible to aid me and I find reprieve from pain, but he has come to the conclusion that I am barren. I will never be able to carry a child. I am the third daughter of my family and I have two eldest brothers. My parents have married off all of my sisters and want little to do with me so they intend to send me off to a convent. Professor I love God with all my heart, but I will be wasted as a nun. Dr. Sievers agrees with this so he agreed to help me find you. This is where my proposition begins: take me on as your apprentice. Let me aide you in your research so that I may soak up all your intelligence and immerse myself in the world of the occult. It is my greatest dream, my purpose.” He stared at you, taking in your tragic backstory and thinking long and hard about what you had asked.

“Fraulein, first of all let me say I am truly sorry for what you have endured physically. I am enthralled by your desire to pursue the world of the occult and believe it may be your purpose here in this earth. However, we must look at how this scenario presents itself. An old man like myself cannot just let an unmarried young woman hang around him unsupervised, it would plunge me even deeper into disgrace that I already am and while I do not care for my own reputation I care deeply for the reputation of the work.”

“Professor I understand completely, this brings me to the second part. Dr. Sievers tells me he believes you are unmarried, is this correct?” He seemed taken aback by the personal question. “Yes fraulein I have always been devoted to my work.” You took a deep breath, praying to God this would work. “Then I ask, quite inappropriately as the lady in the situation, for your hand in marriage. Marry me, on paper only, so that we may work together to uncover the secrets of the occult and so that I may be saved from the convent. I know that I have far more to gain from this than you, but I can imagine that the work gets lonely and tedious. I will do whatever you need of me. I will not expect you to fulfill any typical husband duties and I will serve you simply as an apprentice, not as a wife.” His jaw actually dropped at this proposition.

After the shock began to wear off he asked “Would you not be embarrassed to be such a beautiful young woman married to such a ghoulish old thing like me?” You chuckled at this. “Professor if I’m asking to devote my life to a study as controversial as the occult do you think I care what others think? Let them judge. I will be content knowing I’m married to one of the most brilliant minds alive.” You could swear he blushed at your words.

After a moment of deliberation he took your hand and looked you in the eye. “Fräulein y/n if you are serious about the work, as you truthfully seem to be, it would be my honor. Now, let me reassure you I will not trick you into playing wife for me. I know many an old man would take advantage of this situation and force you to do things you do not wish to do, so let me reassure you I will view you as my student and my apprentice you need not fear anything inappropriate.” You smiled at his chivalry, internally relieved that your academic hero was not some old pervert.

“Oh thank goodness! I had put all my faith on you answering yes so Dr. Sievers will be here shortly with the paperwork. I apologize for the haste, but my father was planning on sending me away tomorrow.” The professor was impressed at both your confidence and your attention to detail. “I hope you don’t mind cats!” He exclaimed as an orange tabby pawed at his feet. “Oh I love them them!” You cooed as you picked the cat up.

He walked you around his apartment and introduced you to each cat, sneaking treats out of his pocket for each one. You stole glances at the artifacts and books lining the walls, itching to uncover the secrets. After some time had passed and you finished getting more aquatinted with the professor and his cats, there was a knock at the door. Professor Von Franz opened to door to let in Dr. Sievers and a clergyman.

“I’m guessing you were successful y/n because he didn’t kick you out or smack me in the face!” Dr. Sievers called out with a chuckle. “No habit and rosary beads for me Doctor! No offense father.” The priest smiled at you, the closest a man of the cloth could get to a laugh. “None taken child. Shall we? The good doctor explained to me time is of the essence for you.” You looked over to the professor and he nodded. “We’re ready.”

The priest performed the marriage ceremony as quickly as he could and Dr. Sievers acted as your witness. When it came to the sealing of your union, the kiss, Von Franz looked at you in a panic as if he’d forgotten you’d have to actually touch each other. You smiled at him and leaned forward, pecking his lips in a kiss fit more for a grandfather than a husband. His mustache tickled you and you grinned as you pulled away. Now that the ceremony was over you signed all the paperwork and the union was complete, leaving you with the frightful task of revealing your marriage to your parents.

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 8 [PART 2]

Our guy is finally starting to understand how bad things are. <3

I think what he hates the most (after teleporting one singular time) is how this makes him lose his face. The #1 thing Joris hates the most, always, and forever, is appearing weak or unprofessional.

Yeaa lmao, everyone except for him has immediately oriented themselves in the portal, while he's struggling with the process and the landing...

Joris is way too confused to even begin being mad at this shit. Like ok. This is happening now.

I think the reason he isn't mad at this later is that it's a logical decision to [grumble, grumble] support a member of their party who was [deep sigh] struggling with teleportation for their common good as a team. Even if it was him.

The voices in my head compel me to screenshot him more.

I think Joris said this because he heard Yugo wonder if it's a trap and Yugo's opinions are very important to him <3 He's just like "man Yugo was right. 😑 as he tends to be when he's not being blinded by emotions. [is himself blinded by emotions as he is saying this]"

Joris is probably starting to get mad at Ad by now, but once again, "ughh I guess carrying the guy with the teleportation sickness, while we are all being chased by an eldritch horror, is logical... fuck's sake..."

I could write a novel about how good Toross is at randomly guessing Joris's insecurities and hitting them like every button on the keyboard.

He literally put the meaning of "You're 3ft tall, and I don't really take you seriously, and also the juxtaposition of all these three words diminishes your serious air of adulthood. You look a bit pathetic and boring, btw, despite all the expensive clothes and earnest airs. You're compensating very hard for something you don't have, and I can see that. :)" into two lines of dialogue.

And then he also uses the scare tactic of "btw I can see your Wakfu. And you are very good prey. Because you're a prey animal here. Did I mention I was going to eat you." (and also, unknowingly, this is striking at Joris insecurity #2: people learning information about him and, god forbid, perceiving him.)

AND the finisher is "however you're not good enough to be the main dish and I don't give a shit about you."

Loving Joris's little pout here. A very cute and balanced reaction to psychological warfare. Despite Toross hitting multiple good attack points, he only shows a little bit of seething on his face (but probably enough for Toross to know this got him a reaction. <3)

OF COURSE the guy whose feelings were insulted the most goes immediately after Adamai. He's so transparent about being mad, it's so funny...

When given swords, he literally fights like Atcham. [starts throwing up blood everywhere] Yeah no, no, I'm fine. Ignore me.

Of course you'd be good at dodging magical projectiles, and using your front paws to help you with jumping and standing while keeping your spine low to the ground (to avoid hits and get ready to jump/run once again). Where did you get these moves from? Your uncle? 🤣

He's so maddd.

Yeah he is mad, but also he is his usual calculating self: trying to get close to him to find any possible weakness, while trying not to show that it is, in fact, what he is trying to do. He is locked in.

Cat behaviour once again. Looking like a wild animal is a normal thing for him to do.

You see: for Joris, this is revenge for all the shit this guy said — and also a way to prove his worth as a human being, despite the fact that all those things Toross said are true. If he acts like he is cold and calculating and useful, nobody will know that it actually bothered him. His status as someone thick-skinned and heroic will be proven.

(He learned the "circle them to try and get closer while they're busy shooting you, and then attack them from the back" method from Atcham too, btw.)

[httpscomexe]

Fic where reader is a mutant and she’s put in a cage fight with Logan

The Leopards Claws

Summary: You’re forced into a cage fight with a familiar face, and he recognizes your spots…

(Find what I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Hybrid!Reader

Word Count: 1411

(I might make a part two)

“You can’t cage a tiger.”

A little something of a famous saying that your ring master also says. A lot. But it always makes you laugh, since you weren’t a tiger. God he’s so stupid.

You think to yourself as you’re pushed through a crowd, two men gripping your arms, a muzzle on your face like you’re an animal, which, you basically are.

You weren’t sure what to call yourself. A human that was diagnosed with vitiligo before she was born only to find out they were leopard spots and the deformations on your tail bone and head were actually a long tail and cat ears. So yea, you could call yourself a hybrid, mutant, whatever. But you were also a cage fighter. Not by choice, of course.

“Now for the next round, people get ready for the fast, the stunning, and the tricker of a show, Batemans pet Leopard!” You’re shoved into the large cage, and you fall to all fours, your teeth bared and your claws extracted as you hissed at the men who just tossed you in.

“Shut it kitty.” You growl deep in your throat and stand pack up, fixing the small outfit they had you wearing, they wanted as much as your skin exposed as possible to show off your leopard spots, and God was it annoying. But what was more annoying was the cheering of the crowd as you looked around the arena, some of the viewers with whiskers or spots painted on their faces. It was annoying, really. You weren’t exactly an idol.

“And for the competitor!” The announcers voice bothered you the most, and you look up at him in his seat, smirking as you see the eye patch on his left eye, covering where his eye used to be before the first time you escaped the cage. Fucking dick. “The fierce, the hated, and the worst, Wolverine!” Your ears drop immediately. Wolverine? Your head snaps to turn around at the sound of the gate opening, and people toss Wolverine into the cage, he tried to turn back around, banging his fists on the metal cage yelling profanities before turning back towards you. I thought he was dead… You tell yourself, and your lips part slightly, your fangs exposing past your bottom lip as he approaches you slowly, his own claws extracting slowly while yours retract back into normal nails. You couldn’t fight him, he saved you.

“Shit!” You scream as he lunges at you with his claws, and you avoid him like a cat avoiding a fucking cucumber. “Wolv-“

“Uh oh! Looks like we have a FUCKING pussy!” The crowd breaks into laughter, and you leap up onto a high post, looking down at where he can’t reach you.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, fuck me…” You groan as he stares at you.

“Get the fuck back down here.” He growls at you. “I don’t wanna be electrocuted and I don’t think you do either.” He shouts, and the guards press the button on their taser as a warning, little sparks jumping out of the wires. The crowd going quiet as they watch.

“Come on kitty, you’re supposed to be a leopard, not a pussy!” One of the viewers yell, and you turn to him, hissing and showing your fangs, then you feel a yank on your tail before you’re pulled back down to the cold concrete ground, Wolverine is on you in less than a second, but you crawl back out, your leopard agility making you fast.

“W-“

“Shut the fuck up and fight…” He growls, swiping his claws at you again.”

“Wol-“

“Shut the fuck up!” He shouts, lunging at you and you fall to the ground, him on top, but just as his fist is about to collide with your nose…

“Logan!” You whine, covering your face with your hands, and he freezes.

“How the fuck do you know my name…?” He growls, staying quiet so the guards don’t hear.

“You’re Logan… you don’t remember me…? You- you died, how are you here? Our daughter missed you, she…-“

“Daughter…?” His claws slowly retract, and you feel his body becoming less tense.

“You don’t remember them…?”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be fighting!” One of the guard shouts, and Logan shoots them a look.

“I’m not the Logan you know…” He growls back down at you, lowering his fist.

“Please… please don’t fight me…” You watch the way his face contorts, from anger, to confusion, to some other emotion. He didn’t wanna fight you from the beginning, and he sure as hell didn’t want to now. He confirmed it as he stood up, and helped you to your feet. “They don’t have guns, just tasers…”

“I know… stay put.” He says lowly, then moves to the wall of the cage.

“Hey, what’re you-?” His hands grip the cage, his fingers gripping it with all of his strength, then he pulls it away like nothing, bending the entire cage which snaps in some spots before he tears off a section big enough for him to walk through, and the men and women in the crowd begin screaming, but you stay put. “Shit!” The guard sticks the large taser against Logan’s chest and Logan only grumbles, his face turning into anger before he grips the device, ripping it out of the man’s hands and slamming it over his skull, creating the most bone cracking disgusting sound you’ve ever heard.

His rips through people easily, tearing open their skin with his claws and kicking their skulls in with no effort but all good results as they fall to the floor, going through them one by one before they were all dead. Except the announcer, who you’ve kept your eyes on the entire time… crouched behind his table…

You know you were told to stay put, but you couldn’t help it. You leave the cage as Logan tears through more bodies, and you creep up to the balcony where the announcer was, only standing when you were behind him, and he turns around to the sound of your claws extracting and being dragging across the wall.

“Wait no…” He chuckles in fear, putting his hands up in defense. That stupid fucking smile on his face as he tries to talk to you, but all of his words go one ear and out the other. His voice shaking only fueling you.

Then you grab him by his throat, lifting him to his feet before slowly dragging your claws from the horizon of his forehead between his skin and his scalp all the way down to between his collar bones, leaving a deep cut of your claws in place of his skin, blood leaking down your hand and his chest, seeping into his shirt.

“Fuck you…” You hiss, landing a kick on his stomach and you watch as he falls to the floor beneath you, and Logan’s eyes meet yours from below as his three claws find their way into the last man’s throat, and you hop down, of course, landing on all fours.

You’re a cat after all, but just as you’re about to say something..

“You look just like her.” He says suddenly, his hand coming up to brush hair from your face.

“Like who…?”

“Like my Leopard…”

“Your leopard…?”

“It’s a long story.” He tells you, his hand moving down to find yours, your fingers lacing. “Is her name also Charlotte…?” He asks quietly, and you nod, a tear dripping down your cheek.

“Is yours?” He nods as well, and you have the overwhelming need to hug him, and you do, throwing your arms around his neck and standing on your toes to reach him, your tail looping around his leg as much as it could. “What happened…? To her…” He takes a deep breath, his arms wrapping around your waist…

“I lost everyone… including my daughter…”

“Do you wanna stay with me?” You ask without thinking.

“Are you sure…? You don’t mean that…” He pulls back slightly, his hands moving to your shoulders.

“I mean it… I mean… You look just like my Logan…” You stare into his eyes, your own hands moving to cup his face. And you could see the hurt in his eyes.

“Your Logan…? and he?”

“Mhm…”

“Shit…” He chuckles, a little in pain but also partly at the opposite ways your lives turned out and he squeezes you a little, holding back tears.

“I’d love to come with you…”

🏷️: @malavera @brushworth

[cloudyyoimiya]

Hello! Hope you are having a good day/night! I hope I’m not bothering you. I would like to request Ranpo, Fyodor, and Dazai (separate) with a s/o who has baby fever, please. Like when Reader is scrolling through her phone and babies randomly pop up and she’s/their like “I want one :(“ or when reader and Ranpo/Fyodor/Dazai walk past a mom, dad and their baby and she’s/their like “when is it our turn? :(“ Some kind of senario like that. How would the boys react?

hi! don’t worry about bothering me, you’re doing anything but! anyways, i absolutely love this request! i’ve been meaning to write something like this for a while, but i never got to it. thank you for requesting!

Their S/o Gets Baby Fever; Osamu Dazai, Ranpo Edogawa, and Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Format: Scenarios

Possible Warnings: Slight suggestiveness (Dazai)

Osamu Dazai

One day you were scrolling through your phone while lounging around your shared apartment. Videos of cats and other miscellaneous things filled your feed, but eventually you stumbled across a video of someone’s baby saying their first words.

You audibly awed at the video. How could you not? It was absolutely adorable! One of the parents in the background sounded as if they were about to cry, and it made you smile. What a sweet moment caught on camera!

Suddenly you were hit with a wave of baby fever. Having the idea of having a small child to take care of was absolutely to die for. You knew Dazai would be a good father, so you weren’t worried about a thing while you thought of having a kid.

Dazai noticed you smiling, so he decided to get up from where he was sitting and walked right behind you. He bent down just a little bit and watched the video that you just saw. His head was right over your shoulder as he watched the video. Anxiously, you held your breath. Dazai was a smart person, so it didn’t take him long to understand what you were feeling.

“You want a baby, don’t you,” he teased.

Slowly you turned your head to face Dazai. “Yeah! Don’t you think that it’d be fun? This video was just so cute and… I wanna be a parent.”

“Having a baby comes with great responsibility! Are you sure you want to commit to that?” He asked with a smile on his face.

You nodded. “Look at you being all responsible.”

“Hey! I can be responsible if I want!” He put his hand up to his heart and fake gasped.

You chuckled. “Sure you can. Anyways, don’t you want to become a father? Now’s your chance.”

“I’d love too, but I don’t want a small creature to take away all of my loves attention,” he whined.

“Oh it won’t be that bad.”

“Yes it will! What would I do with my life if you ignored me?!”

“Osamu, I’d give you both equal attention, alright? I promise,” you sighed.

Dazai wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “Then I think we could absolutely be parents then!” He got closer to your ear. “You do know what making a baby entails though, right?”

You scrunched your face up. “Eww.. Maybe we could adopt..”

Dazai playfully gasped once more. “How rude of you!”

Ranpo Edogawa

The two of you were out in the city, going to buy snacks and other miscellaneous things for the house. You originally weren’t going to tag along, but considering that Ranpo’s sense of direction was terrible, you had to join him. As of now you two were walking to a snack store that Ranpo frequented.

After crossing the street, you spotted a baby in a stroller with her mother. The baby was wearing a cute little pink and white sundress. She also wore a small sun hat that was absolutely adorable.

Her mother looked so happy as she mixed together some formula for her. You smiled at the sight. You wanted that kind of happiness; one that could only be granted by having a child.

You stared at the sight for a little longer than you’d usually stare at something, and Ranpo noticed. That baby looked absolutely adorable! How could you not stare?

“I want one,” you eventually spoke up.

Ranpo craned his neck to look at you. “Huh?”

“I said I want one,” you repeated as you pointed at the mother and the baby. “Wouldn’t you like to have a child someday?”

Ranpo let out a short hum as he unwrapped a lollipop and plopped it into his mouth. “Nope!”

“No?” You tilted your head. “Why?”

“The baby would take all of your attention away from me! I don’t want that!” He loudly whined. “I need you to focus on me all of the time!”

You chuckled at his childish antics. “Your opinion might change once you have a child, Ranpo.”

“It would not!” He shakes his head.

“How could you be so sure about that?”

“I dunno. I just am,” he said nonchalantly. “Though, if it’s something you really want, maybe we could have a child someday.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” he said as he grabbed your arm. “C’mon let’s go! We’re almost at the snack shop!”

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!”

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You and Fyodor were out on a date. The restaurant was rather secluded, but it was still nice. Classical music was playing in the background as the two of you drank some tea and ate some sweets. The overall atmosphere of the restaurant was calming. The two of you frequented this place because it was just an overall relaxing place.

Eventually a family walked into the establishment; a mother, a father, and a little boy. The little boy hung onto his parents hands as they brought him to a table. They all looked so happy.

Fyodor noticed you staring and decided to speak up about it. “Is something the matter?”

“When is it our turn?” You muttered.

Fyodor quirked his eyebrow up. “Pardon?”

Your turned your head back to your boyfriend with a small smile on your face. The thought of having a baby to take care of was entertaining.

“When is it our turn to start a family?” You pointed your thumb at the family you were just staring at. “They all look so happy… Don’t you want that too?”

Fyodor took a sip of his tea, then responded. “I’d love that, milaya, but don’t you think it would be a little too soon? We both have yet to hit the age of thirty.”

“Ah, that’s true,” you spoke as you glanced back at him. “But still, I’d love to have a child someday.”

You looked back at the family. The son was eating some pastries as the parents started to talk about something boring. The son then must’ve said something funny because the parents soon broke out into loud laughter.

You rested your cheek onto your hand as you watched them. You could feel Fyodor’s gaze on you as you watched the family interact.

“If you so wish to have a child, I wouldn’t argue with it. We just would have to get married first,” Fyodor said after a moment of silence.

Your head whipped towards his direction. “Really? Oh, thank you!”

Your boyfriend only nodded as he took another sip of his tea. He seemed content with the conversation the two of you just had.

“Should we start considering names or..?”

requests are open <3

[glitter-stained]

My very personal rating of every lazarus pit fanon side effects I've ever read, ranked from favourite to least favourite :

Tapetum lucidum (the thing cats have that makes their eyes gleam in the dark): that's so creepy and cool, eery in a more discreet way than a full-on glow, idk who hced that first but they are a genius

Contaminated blood laced with the lazarus protein: because our blood renews itself pretty often, this implies the existence of either a lazarus organ that continues to pump the lazarus protein in the blood, or, more probably, the contamination of one of the blood producing organs, maybe of the bone marrow, by the Lazarus pit. Like imagine the Lazarus Pit changing you down to the inside of your bone... The implications are so fascinating I'd love to read more about it.

Altered dna: this doesn't make sense, how does the magical healing pit change your dna, I love it so much, tell me more about the magic gatorade that rewrites dna

Accelerated healing/enhancements: what's funnier, that the pit gave Jason metahuman abilities like being able to withstand a meteorite and going toe-to-toe with Deathstroke (the wiki's words, not mine) and it was just never discussed, or that nothing Jason went through gave him these abilities that he really shouldn't have and he still does and it was just never discussed? I don't know but still, that stuff is top-tier

Glowing green eyes: on the one hand, eyes that glow when the person is feeling intense negative emotions (even better it's not just rage, like, imagine having a flashback or nightmare or getting fear toxined and their eyes glow and people think they're about to attack but they just scream that'd be so cool) but on the other hand, I feel like the colour is too limiting. Sure, Ra's or Riddler can fuck with the glowing green but come on, my girl Cass deserves eyes that glow gold (like the gold from the Batgirl suit). Jason deserves to have glowing red eyes. Cicero says that eyes are the reflection of the soul and while I love the idea of the lazarus pit being toxic, contaminating a part of the person's soul, in comics, a character's colour scheme is an essential part of their graphic identity, and I think altering it to the point of giving it a totally different colour is too much for my taste personally. Like, you are still the same person that you were before the bad thing happened. Yes, it changed you irrevocably, but you are still yourself and you should still have the right to your name and to the colour of your soul.

Lazarus Rage/Pit Madness: so I've seen this one criticized pretty often, often because of how unnecessary, and honestly probably damaging, to the understanding of Jason's character after his resurrection. And like, I agree, but also I've found myself to enjoy the fanon version of the Batfam. Like, I don't like that it's murky and confusing sometimes to figure out which is fanon or canon and that that leads people to judging canon actions from a standard of fanon information, and parts of it can be sexist or racist or classist, but the same can be said from canon, you have to be critical with what you consume. Basically to me there are two batfams and I consume both differently and enjoy both, and in the context of fanon I enjoy Pit Madness. The idea of uncontrollable, alien rage is fun, is angsty, and as someone with intense anger issues I'm telling you writing a lazarus rage episode was one of the most cathartic things I've ever written and it felt so good. I also think part of the upset on the subject is a bit undeserved because I see people complain that "the lazarus doesn't work like that because it didn't do that to other people" as if the way the lazarus pit worked made any sense. You're telling me this stuff healed Jason's malnutrition but it didn't fix his trauma? That it healed the Riddler's brain cancer but couldn't be bothered to fuck with Jason's hypertrophied amygdala and the fucked up connections between his amygdala and hippocampus??! Obviously we can't expect dc to know or care about science that much , but I still have the right to be nerdy about it. Jason went into the pit resurrected by God and with brain damage and Ra's said it was a plague and that could make him crazy, I fully believe he could have gotten Pit Madness even if the others hadn't.

Eye-colour change: that's the same thing as the glowing part but without the fun part, really dislike it. I need to be able to listen to I know these eyes/this man is dead from the Count of MonteCristo Musical while making up Under the Red Hood edits in my head please and thank you

Lazarus Pit brings people back to life: I hate it so much dc stop treating life and death so inconsequentially oh my gosh characters fighting life and death situations should not have a source of immortality right in hand I hate that lazarus resin lazarus toxin stuff they have right now and the idea that the pits can bring back to life plays into that idea so I really dislike it. I understand the appeal, it's the basics of coming back wrong with a side of rebirth in the water but instead of being purified it's being poisoned, but I just can't get over how frustrating it is to see a beloved character die and only be able to say I hope he doesn't come back for his own sake and then he comes back. Urgh.

[starsstuddedsky]

Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much. 

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt. 

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you. 

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily. 

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway. 

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say. 

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him. 

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything. 

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted. 

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings. 

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him. 

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.” 

“And why am I here?” 

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly. 

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?” 

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you. 

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.” 

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours. 

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one. 

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.” 

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road. 

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.” 

“What is wrong with my taste in music?” 

“No comment.” 

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine. 

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.” 

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe. 

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way. 

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up. 

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you. 

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap. 

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway. 

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy. 

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child. 

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make. 

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door. 

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child. 

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child. 

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.” 

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?” 

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts. 

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you. 

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go. 

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time. 

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten. 

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.” 

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you. 

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper. 

“I have self-control.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are. 

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile. 

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying? 

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second. 

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.” 

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck. 

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?” 

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles. 

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness. 

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head. 

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible. 

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.” 

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again. 

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst. 

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most. 

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?” 

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?” 

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?” 

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart. 

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.” 

“Of what?” 

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.” 

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?” 

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.” 

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes. 

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.” 

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move? 

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know. 

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.” 

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?” 

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say. 

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?” 

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.” 

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory. 

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real. 

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing. 

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet. 

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again. 

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it. 

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile. 

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?” 

“Always.” 

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it. 

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say. 

His laughter bounces you. “No way.” 

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.” 

“I'll stay strong.” 

“What if I want a kitten?” 

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.” 

“Sucker.” 

“Only for you.” 

thank you for reading <3

[t00tsmcgee]

Rook as a companion banter Episode three: Davrin

More on my Rook here

If this inspires you to write your own, please tag me, I'd love to read it! ^^

Part one (Neve) | Part two (Bellara) | Part three (Davrin) | Part 4 (Harding) | Part 5 (Taash) | Part 6 (Emmrich) | Part 7 (Lucanis)|

-

Davrin: “Cal, does Assan visit you often?” Calais: “All the time. Don’t you boy?” Assan: *excited squawk* Davrin: “What do you feed him, when he’s over?” Calais: “Oh, some treats. Little scraps of meat, raw or dried, and I took a bag of truffles with me from Arlathan with me last time to give to him every now and again.” Davrin: “Does he like them?” Calais: “Oh yeah, gobbles it right up. Why?” Davrin: “He’s not eating his actual food. How much are you giving him?” Calais: “… Not a lot?” Davrin: *chuckles*“You’re a terrible liar.”

Calais: “Who’s my good boy?” Assan: *Happy squawk* Calais: “You are! Yes you are!” Assan: *Happy squawk* Davrin: “Is this how you talk to your rats as well?” Calais: “Of course. They know what you’re saying, you know? They’re smart. They can tell by the tone of your voice. Can’t you boy? Yes you can, you’re so smart!” Assan: *Happy squawk* Davrin: *sigh*

Davrin: “So Cal, why rats?” Calais: “They’re cute. Plus, they’re very useful. They eat our garbage and are natural allies of decay, as well as vital prey animals for predators like owls and snakes.” Davrin: “But you don’t feed yours to snakes, do you?” Calais: “No. Gus and Basil are pets. Although I did promise Lucanis that he could have them for his pet snake when they die.” Davrin: “Really? That doesn’t bother you?” Calais: “I’ll be sad about it sure, but better they feed another animal than I just let them rot in the ground. It’s the natural order of things, and there’s beauty in that, too.” Davrin: “Rats don’t get very old, do they?” Calais: “No. Maybe two years on average.�� Davrin: “So why have them as pets?” Calais: “I like them. They’re resilient, despite everyone looking down on them as pests they are indispensable to the ecosystem around them. And they look cute while doing it.” Davrin: “They are pretty cute.”

Davrin: “Would you ever consider getting another pet?” Calais: “I’ve always wanted a cat. But circumstances never really allowed.” Davrin: “I can see a cat not going well with your rats.” Calais: “There is that, of course.” Davrin: “Maybe once this is all over.” Calais: “Yeah. I hope so.”

Davrin: “I don’t get it.” Calais: “Don’t get what?” Davrin: “You’re so relaxed and loose with Assan and he obeys your every word.” Calais: “It’s unexpected for me too. I wasn’t expecting griffons to be so much like rats.” Davrin: “They’re not supposed to be. They’re war beasts.” Calais: “Even the biggest, meanest warhorse has a soft spot for it carer, because they feed it. Food seals a bond quicker than any command.” Davrin: “So I should just give him treats every time he does something I ask?” Calais: “Yes. Obviously. That’s how you train an animal.” Assan: *Sqauwk of agreement*

Davrin: “So how do I do that?” Calais: “What?” Davrin: “Be more relaxed with him?” Calais: “You’re heaping expectations on him and yourself. You need to let those go before you can really relax. Assan will find his way. You have to trust that he will.” Davrin: “But he’s so young.” Calais: “When you were young, how did your parents go about raising you?” Davrin: “I went out into the woods, climbed the trees, explored.” Calais: “Exactly. You were a kid. You needed to explore the world you were born into. Your parents trusted you to come back if you needed help. You need to give Assan that same freedom.” Davrin: “Right. But I also frequently came home with scraped knees and bruises.” Calais: “That’s how you learn.”

Assan: *demanding squawk* Calais: “I don’t have anything on me, sorry.” Assan: *Squawk of disapproval* Calais: “I’ve never felt this guilty about anything in all my life.”

Davrin: “It’s working, you know?” Calais: “What is?” Davrin: “Your advice. Meat every day, and treats when he does something right. He’s learning faster than before. Listening more intently when I tell him things.” Calais: “Local man discovers positive reinforcement.” Davrin *chuckles* “Joke all you want, I needed to hear it from someone, and I’m glad you helped me.” Calais: “You’re welcome, Davrin.” Assan: *Squawk of approval* Calais: “You too, Assan.”

Davrin: “So where will you go, once we’re all done here?” Calais: “Antiva, I think. Lucanis invited me to come with him, live in Treviso.” Davrin: “But will you be able to have a cat there?” Calais: *chuckle* “Treviso is overflowing with strays. I’m sure one will wander in and make itself at home in my bed." Davrin: “I - Assan will miss you.” Assan: *Sad squawk* Calais: “I’ll miss Assan too. And maybe his handler, too." Davrin: “Thank you, Cal.” Calais: “Any time.”

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Game over

Part I

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: some hot scenes to come so be ready, nothing obscene tho (I'd love to but can't write "porn"😬); kind of slutty Azriel, swearing

You walked down the hallway towards Cassian's room, your eyes puffed from crying for hours. You prayed to Mother to find him alone. You needed him desperately. Cassian was your best friend, knowing all your secrets, even the one about your feelings for Azriel. He was the only one who volunteered to go with two of you on missions making a wall between you, comforting you after each argument. And now he almost paid with own life for his kindness.

Instead of knocking you eavesdropped behind his door, but except of Cassian's snoring room was silent. Carefully opening the door you peeked in. Cassian was fast asleep, bandaged wings spread on the bed. He was alone. You let out sigh of relief.

Quietly you stalked to his bed and sat on the edge of mattress. Gently caressing his hand you curled to his side. You were afraid to touch him, not wanting to cause him more pain. "I'm so so sorry, Cass," you sobbed. Snoring stopped and he moved slightly.

"Oh, doll, it's you," he groaned, voice hoarse.

"I didn't want to wake you up," you tried to hide your tears.

"Don't worry. I wanted to see you anyway. I'm glad you came."

"How do you feel?"

His big hand landed on your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "I'm high from the Madja's medicaments," he chuckled and you did so, too. He always knew how to make you smile. "Are you okay? Rhys was quite angry when he came yesterday."

"Hmm." You still needed to talk about it, but seeing his state you couldn't bring yourself to bother him with your problems.

"Hey, doll, look at me."

"Everything is fine," you lied.

"C'mon, show me your face," he patted on your shoulder. Reluctantly you obeyed. "I can see you cried. What happened? Did he hurt you?"

"Rhys was mad, but he did nothing to me. He just scolded me.."

"And?" his brows raised.

You let out a breath avoiding his gaze. "And closed me in his office together with Azriel," you muttered.

"What?!" Cassian tried to sit up, but pain in his back and wings prevented him from doing so. Grimacing he lay down again. "Is he crazy? Why? I'll give him piece of my mind when I see him next time. What happened after that?"

"Well, he said he won't let us out until we solve our problems," you explained, tears again stinging your eyes.

"You are out so.." Cassian encouraged you to continue.

"Azriel came with an idea how to make him let us go." First tear rolled down your cheek.

Cassian rubbed root of his nose. "What that idiot did to you?" He knew you so well, you didn't have to tell a single word and he knew what's on your mind. Sometimes it was quite scary.

"He came with plan to pretend we are in love and kissed me in front of Rhysand.." you sobbed.

"Doll.." he again rubbed your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

You shook your head. "I can't.. do that.. It all returned.. and.. I can't.. It hurts.."

Cassian drew you closer, hugging you as much as he could in his state. "I'm so sorry, doll.. But.. You don't have to do it.. If you want I'll talk with him."

"If Rhysand finds out we lied, next time he might also lock us at a cell.."

Cassian's lips pulled into a thin line, but he didn't say anything else, holding you and rubbing on your back while you cried yourself to sleep.

Azriel was wandering around the House, feeling of discomfort heavy on his chest. He didn't like the way your conversation ended up that morning and he didn't want to accept that his plan was over before he actually could act up to it. He tried to visit Y/N in her bedchamber, but she wasn't there. Everything felt off, so he sent the shadows to look for her. They guided him to Cassian's room, whispering to his ear.

Azriel didn't bother with knocking because as he was informed persons inside were fast asleep. Quiet like a cat he crept in, standing beside the bed. What he saw there made his insides twist with pain and anger.

Cassian laid in the bed with spread wings just like the other day, snoring. And there under his arm curled to his side was Y/N, their scents mixing together. He noticed their smell many times before, but he'd never witnessed it. Jealousy stabbed his heart like poisoned dagger, his teeth gritting in frustration.

Mine. Mine. Mine!

His breath quickened, brows furrowed, anger dripping from him. His fingers entwined around the Truth-teller. Shadowsinger wouldn't let anybody have what belonged to him, what he desired the most.

The shadows emerged in, blinding him and pushing him back to the door.

'Stop. Calm down. You will regret it. Brother. Family.' They hissed.

Azriel took few shuddering breaths. Okay, he wouldn't go so far. But he couldn't leave them like this either. He fixed his expression.

"Love, here you are," he shouted pretending he just came in. Both Cassian and Y/N woke up with a start.

"What the hell," Cassian groaned, pulling Y/N closer. Wide-eyed she looked up at Azriel.

"I was worried. I looked for you everywhere," Azriel continued his performance. He pulled on her arm, tearing her from the embrace, just to hold her close to his chest. She was about to say something, but he wouldn't let her and quickly kiss her on the lips. Azriel gave all his pain and jealousy into the kiss making it rough and needy. And Y/N reacted the same way as in front of Rhysand. Her knees gave out. Satisfied Azriel pulled away. He watched with delight as all kinds of emotions flashed across her face, especially enjoying the blush of her cheeks.

"What are you doing?" Cassian grunted, snapping him out of his observation.

Azriel turned to him. "Love, you haven't told him yet?"

"No need to pretend, Az. I know everything," Cassian rolled his eyes. Azriel turned back to Y/N, searching her face. So she told him? But why? What was between the two of them?

"I want to talk to you," Cassian said.

"Would you leave us alone, dove," Azriel traced her jaw with scarred finger. She inhaled sharply turning to Cassian.

"Cass.."

"Don't worry, doll," he grinned at her. Eyeing them she backed out from the room closing the door behind. But she didn't leave. Instead she stayed behind the door listening.

Azriel smirked as Cassian narrowed eyes on him. "What kind of game are you playing?" he asked quietly, aware that Y/N hadn't left.

"Not your business."

"I swear. If you hurt her I'll beat the shit out of you."

Azriel studied his face. "You feel something to her." It wasn't question.

"What if I do? Would you let her be?"

Azriel crossed arms on his chest. "No."

"Do you hate her so much that you want to destroy her?" Azriel winced.

"I'm not planning to destroy her."

"So what do you want from her?" Cassian snapped angrily.

"Not. Your. Business," Azriel growled.

They stared at each other trying to second guess the opponent. Azriel let out a breath after a while. Brother. My brother, he reminded himself.

"I don't want to hurt her, so don't worry," he said way softer than he really felt, turning to leave. "I would really appreciate if you stay away from her," he growled leaving the room. An amused snort sounded from behind as he was closing the door.

Corners of Azriel's mouth turned up in a smile as he looked to the place where Y/N was waiting, right next to the door.

"What did you talk about?" she asked coolly.

He stepped closer cornering her. "About you," he smiled even wider, hazel eyes capturing hers.

"What about me?"

"Hmm," he purred teasingly leaning in so he could feel her breath on his lips. Having her so close soothed his jealousy for good.

She just stood there pinned to the wall under his body, her heart racing. She wouldn't run away before getting answers. Fearless little thing. He liked it and finally he didn't have to hide it. Closing eyes he nuzzled his cheek to hers, drawing a soft moan from her.

"What will you give me if I tell you?" His deep voice sensually whispered to her ear and she shivered in pleasure biting down on her lip, unable to think straight. So hot, so sweet. He wanted to devour her right there on the spot, slowly, enjoying every inch of her. It took all his determination just to stand there, not touching her.

He needed to leave otherwise he would destroy everything. "Try to stay away from Cassian and his room, dove, would you?" he cooed, delivering sweet, light kiss on her lips. Her knees wobbled.

"It would look bad if somebody notice," he said over a shoulder walking down the hall, away from temptation.

After he left, Y/N let out a breath. Without anybody holding her upright she sank to the ground, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to jump from her chest and chase after the cause of this all. Why did he have such effect on her?

After the encounter in Cassian's room you didn't know what to think anymore. You heard just very little of their conversation and couldn't make anything out of it. Only one thing was clear: Azriel kept pretending to be in love with you without flaw whether somebody watched or no.

He kept touching you at any occasion he had. From feather like touches to passionate hugs, from his lips lightly teasing your skin to deep, needy kisses. Shadowsinger went so far that he was leaving flowers and small presents for you all around the house. It was so confusing.

In front of your friends you couldn't run nor push him away. You struggled every time he appeared close to you. Your heart ached and thrilled at the same time. You had to constantly remind yourself that he faked it. That none of that was real. However your heart didn't listen at all. It hurt so badly. Every day that passed in this manner was a torture and you tried to spend as much time in your room alone as possible.

One morning you woke up with a wing around you, dim light shining through. A strong arm was wrapped around your waist and your back was pressed against male's chest. At first you thought you fell asleep with Cassian. After all it wouldn't be the first time you slept like this.

As your brain started to work again, you stiffened. Last night you fell asleep alone in your room. The body behind you was muscular, but it was rather athletic while Cassian's body was more like a bear. Drops of cold sweat appeared on your forehead and your heart stuttered as realization hit you.

It was Azriel.

You swallowed, your heartbeat was rising with every second you stayed in this position. You didn't know what to do. You wanted to shove him away, but you also longed to stay like this in his arms for the rest of your life. You didn't dare to move.

Azriel behind you didn't move, too, seemingly asleep. However you could feel his heartbeat on your back, speed of it matching your own. And you felt it poking to the back of your thigh. Air became heavy with the smell of arousal.

The wing retracted letting morning light and fresh cold air in.

"'morning," Azriel groaned to your ear, voice still hoarse. Your panties got even wetter.

You forced yourself to retreat to the other side of bed. "What are you doing here?" you tried to sound confident and cool, but your shaky voice betrayed you.

Reclining Azriel smirked obviously satisfied with the way your body reacted to him. Your mouth went dry. He was so... Beautiful? Sexy? No word could adequately describe him.

His dark hair was messy from sleep, smirking full lips slightly parted and eyes.. Those eyes. Soft morning light turned his hazel eyes into liquid gold. Shadowsinger was in your bed looking like a god, toned chest on display. You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"You are drooling, dove," he chuckled moving closer. His thumb ran over your lower lip teasingly. He was wearing just an underwear, his arousal still visible.

Instincts you gained over years kicked in, though you were too high. "Cover yourself," you moaned. Damnit.

Azriel leaned closer, his lips only inch from yours. "This is what you do to me. Don't you like it?" Thumb of his other hand caressed your thigh too close to your sex. You gasped, eyes going wide. Azriel's pupils blew out, gaze darkening, his scent changing once again.

You needed to cool down otherwise you could do something you would regret in the future. You tried to stand up, but Azriel stopped you.

"Beautiful," he murmured against your lips, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft, playful at first, slowly heating up. He pulled you back down to the sheets, lightly crushing you under his body. His scarred hand grabbed your thigh and massaging it he hooked your leg around his hips.

No, your brain shouted while your heart was growing with every touch he provided. This was so wrong. You found the strength and pushed against his chest. Panting Azriel reluctantly obeyed. He gave you a questioning look.

"What's wrong, dove?"

"Stop it," a tear rolled down your cheek, followed by another soon. Tip of his fingers gently wiped it away. He was confused. "Stop it. Stop this pretending. It's too much. I can't-"

"Who said I'm pretending?" he whispered softly, studying your face with unreadable expression.

"You came with this plan to pretend in front of everyone.."

"Game is over, dove. It's actually never started. At least for me it wasn't game," Azriel sat up bringing you with him.

You were too confused. "What do you mean? What is this all about?"

Azriel hesitated. "I heard you," he breathed out, his eyes never leaving yours. His deep voice was so quiet you barely heard him. "That night at Rhys' office. You talked in your sleep. For years I couldn't tell you how I really feel, thinking you hate me. It was easier to hate you back than admit I want you. So I took advantage of the situation Rhysand got us into and decided to show you instead. I guess it wasn't the best way.."

Something in your chest warmed up and grew with every word he spoke. "It wasn't game," you repeated, trying to put your thoughts together. You replayed all events, touches and kisses of the last weeks seeing it in new light. You could literally hear wards around your heart crack. He didn't pretend it. None of that.

You searched his eyes looking for traces of lie just to find out it was truth. Your hand moved on its own accord, resting on his cheek. Azriel leaned into the touch closing his eyes for a moment.

"No pretending?"

"Not even once," he shook his head. All suppressed feelings crashed out like a wave breaking last of the walls you built around your heart. You threw yourself around his neck almost knocking him down to blankets, squeezing him as you cried. Shadowsinger groaning with effort to stay upright, hugging you back.

"Az," you sobbed.

"Yes, angel," Azriel rested his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"You are such idiot," you playfully tugged on his hair.

"I know," he chuckled. "Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?"

You snorted. "It won't be easy."

"I love challenges." With that he started nipping at your neck slowly moving up to the sensitive spot under your ear.

[gallafics]

𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚌'𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠

Title: Quatervois Author: @dodgerbear84 (Ao3)

Rating: Explicit Series: N/A

Chapters: 8/8 Word Count: 51.5k

Archive Warnings: No Warnings Used

Favorite Character: Two lovely side characters; a bartender named Cam & Mickey’s friend Kenny. And of course our boys.

Least Favorite Character: I didn’t have any characters in particular that I disliked, but Gracie’s mom?? iykyk

Ao3 Summary: “Quatervois (Qua-ter-vwa): A crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one’s life.

Closeted soldier Mickey meets farmer Ian in a bar when on leave from his base in the Deep South and discovers that making the leap toward happiness isn't as tough when you have someone on your side.”

Review: This fic actually blew me away. The writing style is extremely cinematic and had me convinced I actually just watched a movie instead of reading a book. I could vividly picture Ian’s farm, their facial expressions, the bar, the creek—everything. I felt like I was there watching it in person.

Mickey and Ian’s build up in this fic is beautiful. Their flirtation is both cute and sexy while also having hints of pining and being slight idiots. Mickey falling for Ian in this fic is a favorite of mine because it’s so obvious how much they want one another but have things that are keeping them apart.

This fic really has it all. There’s spice, there’s banter, theres fluff, there’s lust and longing and perfect comedic timing! It’s all around a beautiful fic that has made its way to my personal downloads because I will be re-reading it!

Spoilers Below↓

Favorite Moment: So, I’m a sucker for the moments in a story that just rip your heart out and absolutely stomp on it in front of you, so, I would say my favorite part is when Mickey is leaving the state, getting ready to deploy and he and Ian are saying good-bye…

“Don’t think about what you’re leaving behind. Think about the bright future ahead of you. Promise me you won’t dwell on us saying goodbye.” Mickey’s heart clenched tightly in his chest. “I promise.”

Equally favorite moment is their first meeting, it’s so tense and Ian’s so nice and Mickey is gay panicking and ends up being an asshole

“I wasn’t asking to be your friend. I was just being friendly. Big difference. Sorry to have offended” Mickey watched as Ian headed back to his corner and felt irrational anger bubble up inside him. “What? You’re not gonna thank me for my service?” Ian laughed loudly and hollowly, turning to face Mickey and lifting the hem of his black shirt up to his chin. Mickey gaped at the display of rock hard abs and firm pectoral muscles. It lasted a moment before he spotted the livid red skin of severe but well healed burns covering the left side of Ian’s body from waist to armpit. “You gonna thank me for mine? Didn’t think so. Drink your beer, soldier, I won’t bother you again.”

Honorable mentions, their first kiss, Mickey visiting the creek, the conversation about Ian’s bed (iykyk), still obsessing over their reunion, the waterfall scene (!!) and so so many other good moments in this one!!

Favorite quote(s):

“Anything happens to Ian and you’ll have this whole bar looking for you.”

“You totally fed it.” “The fuck you on about?” “The stray cat. You fed it. You make out like you’re this tough badass but you have a caring side”

“I just… I ain’t ever… this is all… wow fuck. Kiss one guy and you use your grip on life.”

“There’s a sight I could never get tired of seeing.” Ian leered. “Me sweating my tits off while I try to stay fit enough to be a soldier even though I drink beer like water and smoke more than a funeral home chimney?”

“Nobody has ever touched me there.” Ian mumbled against Mickey’s mouth. “You’re beautiful.” Mickey had never said those words to anyone before.

“Then you came along. You, with your fucking attitude problem and killer smile.”

There were honestly so many moments in this fic that made me insanely happy and have stuck in my brain. It’s such a beautiful story. If you haven’t read it 10000/10 recommend, if you have read it? Go read it again!!!

Final thoughts: The plot was plotting. The spice was spicy. The romance was romancing. The chemistry was off the charts. I cried. I laughed. And everyone in the gym probably thought the lady on the treadmill was crazy cause I couldn’t stop grinning at my phone! Amazingly, beautiful, cinematic masterpiece!!

Thank you so much, DodgerBear, for blessing us with this fic!!

— Harley, Gallafics Reviews

[astral-cowboy]

Silly little lando norris smau (part 4)

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

In which streamer!reader does an interview and exposes some important news.

Is this an excuse to write a chuckle sandwich interview? Yes. Am i including Slimecicle in this despite his unfortunate departure? Yes. Is this the silliest thing I've ever written? Yes. Is it in script format because i can't be bothered to write an actual fanfic at the moment? Absolutely.

[transcript of the "Chuckle Sandwich" podcast]

JSchlatt: you know, I heard that you managed to turn Charlie into a cat? How…

Charlie: (laughing) how did you… do that?

Y/N: it wasn’t me; it was my boyfriend.

Ted: your boyfriend, hit formula one driver, Lando Norris?

Y/N: mhm.

JSchlatt: wow…

Charlie: you think you know a guy…

Ted: and you just kept Charlie in your house?

Y/N: mhm, fed him three times a day. I mean, surely you remember this, Charlie?

Charlie: (laughing) yeah, multiple toys, got to drive my own race car, truly living the life.

Ted: in Monaco?

Charlie: in Monaco.

JSchlatt: welcome to chuckle sandwich, we have (your user).

[intro]

Ted: we have this segment we do with all our guests. The premise is, we all make up a piece of the sandwich, Charlie is the meat, ted is the bread, and Schlatt is the mayo. The question is, Y/N, is what are you?

Y/N: what am I?

Ted: what are you?

Y/N: hm… id say… maybe the crisps on the side.

JSchlatt: the crisps?

Y/N: chips

JSchlatt: ah.

Charlie: so, Y/N…

Y/N: Charlie…

Charlie: It’s been a very interesting time for you.

Y/N: like, in general or, like, specifically now?

Ted: I’m assuming he means recently

JSchlatt: don’t assume what he means.

Ted: I’m just saying!

Y/N: (laughing) it has been interesting recently, to answer your question.

Ted: moved to Monaco.

Y/N: I did.

Charlie: turned me into a cat.

Y/N: (laughing) that was Lando.

JSchlatt: had a child?

Y/N: oh shit! I forgot about that!

Ted: how… how did that rumour start?

Y/N: I have no idea; I just woke up to that post on twitter and a message from a very urgent Charlie asking what kind of toys the baby likes.

JSchlatt: any other reactions?

Y/N: Lando got a message from his teammate, Oscar Piastri, who was very… angry that he didn’t tell him… oh yeah, there were also a lot of congrats messages from the others on the grid as well. Neither of us knew what was going on.

Ted: I bet, it’s a very..

Charlie: very personal situation

Y/N: definitely. I… I knew what I was getting into, not even when dating Lando but with choosing this career.

JSchlatt: hmm, oh yeah.

Ted: so when people came up with this rumour?

Y/N: it was odd. I wasn’t as pissed as people would think, but I wasn’t exactly happy.

Charlie: and, just to give those who don’t know about your life, can you tell us who your boyfriend is, what he does, how you met-

JSchlatt: what he’s like in bed, everything.

Y/N: (laughing) my boyfriend is Lando Norris, he’s one of two drivers on the McLaren team in Formula One, we met via a mutual friend, Max, who invited me to be in a Quadrant video.

Ted: I’m assuming a different Max to the red bull guy

Y/N: different max, yeah. We hung out more because my friend Will, WillNE, umm, is now a co-owner of Quadrant, so when that stuff was being sorted which took… a while, umm, me and Lando talked for a bit about random stuff.

Charlie: and you then fell in love, or?”

Y/N: we flirted but neither of us really… were serious. We had kind of a friends with benefits thing for a while, but it ended when I got serious with my ex, so our relationship was very… rocky.

JSchlatt: did you know that he was a Formula One driver?

Y/N: Will had to be the one to tell me, I honestly just thought he was a streamer.

Ted: really?

Y/N: I hadn’t watched F1 since I was about ten and even then, I only really paid attention to the drivers when they appeared on Top Gear.

Charlie: Top Gear?

Y/N: British car show,, they had this segment called ‘the star in a reasonably priced car’ where they’d interview a celebrity and then have them drive around a track in something that would be considered a common car like a kia or something. I remember seeing Hamilton get the top score for ages but I’m pretty sure Daniel had it when the show ended.

Ted: are you close with the other drivers?

Y/N: I mean, I’ve talked to Oscar and Carlos a bit because… you know, but I wouldn’t say I’m very… close to them. Lando has his friends, I have my friends, it just so happens that some of those overlap. Would I like to be closer to the other drivers? If I’m being entirely honest, I’m happy where I am now.

Ted: now, you moved to Monaco earlier this year, what was that like?

Y/N: stressful, I couldn’t say ‘I’m moving in with my boyfriend’ but I also couldn’t keep the entire move a secret because then people would be like ‘why aren’t you streaming with James anymore?’ and start stupid rumours like they always do.

JSchlatt: what you did there was make people think you moved to evade taxes.

Y/N: that… (laughing) that is exactly what happened.

JSchlatt: but you weren’t.

Y/N: but I wasn’t.

Ted: you’ve been in the… public eye since you were a child

Y/N: I mean, I’ve been making content since I was… eight? Nine? Around that age

Ted: what would you say is the most stressful part of content creation?

Y/N: (laughing) how many people have you asked that question?

Charlie: too many

JSchlatt: far too many

Y/N: well, umm… I think the most stressful thing, for me at least, is the work life balance. Like many youtubers, I primarily filmed in my bedroom, its where my pc was set up and everything. I used to stream every day; I was… I burnt myself out. I was doing all of that as a full-time student with a part time job. I have since graduated and I’m not exactly employed anymore so I have a lot of time now but even then, I try not to stream every day.

Ted: and I don’t know how much I’m allowed to talk about this, please let me know if this is a breach of any plans or anything, but your newest projects…

Y/N: oh! Um… yes? Yeah. I can talk about it.

Charlie: to what…

JSchlatt: to what extent?

Y/N: I mean, if you upload this on the same day, I can talk about all of it.

Ted: … we can do that

Y/N: great!

Charlie: so, for the people at home, what is the oh so secret project?

Y/N: songs. I’ve been getting into music I suppose.

JSchlatt: good songs?

Y/N: id like to think so. I’ve been working with James Marriott, he helped me with the producing and everything. This, umm, three song EP, I suppose, is a collaborative work. I came up with the basic meanings of all three songs and then we worked on the lyrics and the track together.

Ted: and the music video?

Y/N: (laughing) the music video was done by some guy I know, does silly videos on the barbie cinematic universe, and ate an entire edible nerd’s rope by himself.

Ted: sounds like a handsome man.

JSchlatt: Final question!

Charlie: (laughing) oh god!

JSchlatt: would you rather have unlimited bacon, but no more games, Or, games, unlimited games, and no games?

Y/N: oh.. um… can I phone a friend?

JSchlatt: Lando has already answered this question.

Y/N: ok… bacon makes me feel kind of ill… and if I didn’t have games I wouldn’t have a career.

JSchlatt: great!

[Transcript End]

[styusha-10]

Sherlock Holmes was an otherworldly creature indeed. I am no man of superstition, although I vaguely remember my grandmother’s tales of daione sìth. Holmes did not distinctly resemble any of the fair folk, these light, ethereally beautiful golden-haired men and women, and yet somehow he gave the same impression. His smooth, almost catlike movements reminded me of cait-sìth and, in all honesty, during investigations he often was the very picture of a predator pursuing the prey or cat playing with mice. I could easily imagine him in the highlands of my homeland, windy and boundless, as to my mind he had the soul of Scottish winds, but I also understood perfectly well that there was no place for him anywhere except in London, hustling and bustling and pulsating with life, crimes and mysteries.

He was not completely detached from the human world, basically having an excellent understanding of human affections, related to the motives of crimes, such as love or envy, though his knowledge clearly came from prolonged observation rather than from personal experience. He was wise enough to seek my aid when something eluded his understanding, which I prefer to consider as a sign of trust on his part.

He was too theatrical or too aloof at times — traits that I mostly attribute to the eccentricity inherent in genius. He also aged much more slowly than me, but this could easily be associated with our slightly spreading ages and his lack of habit of taking anything too personally, which I am often guilty of. Although in the decade we knew each other, I turned almost half gray, and he remained largely the same, except for a couple of new wrinkles and heavier bags under his eyes.

His voice was the voice of a siren or ben-varrey and he had a natural gift of instantly capturing the attention of everyone in the room with the help of said voice and some kind of internal magnetism, which made people instinctively trust him and obey him.

And yet my favourite of his many noble traits I dedicated myself to immortalise was perhaps his benevolence. With such a mind, such power, it would be too easy to use it for evil, something we had unfortunately seen too many times. His gaze on me which I felt quite often was never heavy or insolent and had not ever bothered me. Clients — those at least who seemed nice and did not irritate him immediately — he treated with kind patience, amiable interest and generous if sometimes mannered hospitality, being rude not out of intention to offend, but simply out of his energetic, eccentric nature.

“I am afraid I have accidentally enchanted you, my dear friend", he suddenly said, somewhat sadly and apologetically, one quiet evening on Baker Street. “That kind of devotion that you show to me cannot be expected from any man under normal circumstances.”

“That kind of devotion,” I thought to myself ruefully later that night, “has nothing in common with sidhe’s enchantments.”

This is my first attempt to capture Jeremy Brett's magnificence, and I feel like I haven't done him justice, so there will probably be other takes. Also first attempt in publishing something on Tumblr and nearly first — in writing in English, so feel free to point out any mistakes.

Following a long and good fandom tradition, I consider Watson to be Scottish, hence the writing of almost all the creatures mentioned in Scots.

The cat-sith, whose existence I learned about unacceptably late and did not change anything much, is hunting in the Scottish wastelands. It has an unhealthy addiction to corpses, so it is recommended to distract him with games and riddles, as well as warmth. Doesn't remind you of anyone? However, while writing, I mostly thought about the classic sidhe, adjusted for, uh, almost everything.

I don't know myself whether he is a magical creature, think what you want. To be honest, being portrayed as a magical creature seems unfair to Holmes as a character — part of his charm for me is precisely the fact that he is human, an outstanding human being.

[sherrifdoggo]

Project Empire, What Is It?

I already summarized it earlier today on BlueSky, but I might as well do it over here too.

Project Empire is my Urban Fantasy TTRPG about planning and doing crimes in New York City. Sort of like a whimsical Grand Theft Auto, with some furries thrown into the mix for added flavor.

It's gonna be fully playable offline like any other TTRPG of course, but I also had the idea to do some Gmod integration, like how I did a D&D campaign with custom Garry's Mod maps a real long time ago.

So it will also be playable entirely (or at least mostly) in Garry's Mod.

More details below.

So, first. I started work on it around 2-3 years ago?, I can't remember the exact date and I can't be bothered to look it up right now. The first draft then led to the second draft, then that to the third draft and now i'm possibly refining that third draft into a fourth draft.

The gameplay basics are a mix of D&D and GURPS mechanics blended together to give it the gameplay depth and customizability of GURPS while not requiring you to take 3 turns to get up or to know Underwater Demolition. It's dumbed down GURPS is what i'm saying.

As for story, It takes place in my urban fantasy setting, the Staten Island Universe. A setting that I think I talked about here? (I did).

But the quick and dirty of it is that magic exists and it has always existed. But Magic is confusing, complicated, dangerous and incompatible with integrated circuits and other sensitive electronics.

Due to this magic has certainly played a part in history, but history went down roughly the same path it did in our world.

Why?, Well because I thought it would be cool and also because it gives me space to write really on the nose social commentary. Which all woke writers like myself love to do.

There's also a bunch of magical creatures that waltz around Earth added for fun, and six five more species of intelligent life that coexist with humanity. Dwarves, Elves, Cats, Dragons and Kobolds.

Also the Elves are monkies because I thought that would be a cool and unique elf design. Or at least more unique than pointy ear person #3,596,186.

Lastly, when it's out, it's going to come with a couple campaigns. But one of them is going to be the main one. This one's going to feature the most stakes and the longest playtime.

It'll also feature all of the important characters I've written for the Staten Island Universe's underbelly of New York.

Characters from the guy in my profile picture, a guilty FBI agent, a dwarf hacker, a funny lawyer and the biggest girl failure I've ever written.

I'll probably talk more about them at some point but I want to keep the spoilers to a minimum. The story for the main campaign has been my baby for longer than the project has a existed so I need to keep it closely guarded or it will all be ruined.

anyways thank you for reading all this bullshit, bye