#probably from the sheer amount of times its been thrown into pack backs because I used to bring it everywhere

[grubby-socks]

Finding my sister's 17 y/o DS Lite: finally some good fuckin food

[lovecinnatwist]

How would you go about writing omega Jason with Alpha Dick?

Man oh man- Omega!Jason with Alpha!Dick is always such a bop.

It depends really! I see so many fics with insecure Jason thinking Dick is too good for him which is nice and definitely in character- but sometimes it makes me crave the other end of the spectrum?

Like a confident, sexy Jason who teases Dick with his scent and body until the alpha wants to implode? I also like the idea of Jason being raised by an Omeganist!Alfred and Omega!Talia to be badass, sassy and sensual. Bras? Suppressants? Painful heats?

Not for Jason Todd!

He embraces his Omega-ninity and it wreaks havoc on Dick's hormones. Dick being a more conservative alpha would definitely find himself overwhelmed but enamored!

Here's something playful with a clumsy Alpha!Dick and confident pack Omega!Jason!

Tiddies Out - JayDick

Tags: Omegaverse, AlphaDick, OmegaJason, Pining, Crack treated Seriously, Lactating, Heat Cycles, Omega Tim, Alpha Bruce, Pup Damian- Just Dick being an obvious pining idiot and Jason enjoying his reactions-

Jason doesn’t mind being an omega. How could he when it’s one of the superior options? While Alpha’s often lost themselves to aggression during rutting season and beta’s scrambled to placate them- Omega’s got to sit back and watch the show.

Being the object of an alpha’s fascination has many perks. First off? The gifts. Lavish offerings make their way to him with little to no effort. Weaponry from Talia, Expensive silks and poisons from Ras, The latest tech from Tim and Bruce. It's an endless parade really. One of the few things that make this more bearable to put up with.

He’s a heavy milker. Always has been.

Maybe it’s from growing up in an abusive household. Perhaps it's in response to being closer to the pack’s pups or hell, maybe his body is just gearing up for the imaginary children it wants to have. Regardless of the reason Jason’s tits are aching.

They seem extra tender tonight. The cold dingy air does little to ease the tension under his armor. He shifts and the way his pads squish under bullet proof chest plates is a pain. He curses and tries to ignore it. Something that’s getting harder as the cotton under his clothing reaches its limit. Tsk- 4 hours his ass. It’s barely been 2 and he’s about to make a mess of his gear.

As annoying as it is. He reluctantly reaches into his kit to get two fresh napkins to change. Other omega’s might be shy to do this in public but Jason has always been more practical about it. Breasts are breasts, no reason to get all crazy about it.

Though it probably didn’t hurt that Jason himself had a nice rack. He knows what the other heroes say about him behind his back. His figure has never been more appreciated than now in his prime. The dip in the pit did wonders at helping him bulk up. Thighs thick, emphasising his trim waist. In the throws of season his ample chest gives him an illusion of an hourglass figure. While some people would say omega’s should be small and dainty, he has yet to meet an alpha or beta who can resist him.

Not to be vain but he is nothing else if not attractive.

He’s got his top half way off when the sound of a near violent thud echoes out in the darkness. The hiss of pain gives away the alpha before his scent can. Jason doesn’t even turn in his direction. Instead he keeps his attention on the sopping pads under the compression shirt. He hisses as the gentle adhesive pulls from his throbbing mamories.

“ You alright over there goldie? “

He gets a groan for an answer. A nicer person would have maybe let the other man know about his current state of undress. Too bad that Jason isn’t exactly known for being ‘nice’. He carefully wraps up one cotton cloth. Once he’s clean and dry, he applies another. It’s quick and easy work. The slight chill does wonders against his flush skin.

The worn form of Nightwing crawls from the side of the building. There’s a pretty good bruise on his cheek Jason is 90% sure that the acrobat had a less than graceful landing. He’s always been weird about nudity. Even back when they mostly had the same parts. He rolls his eyes as the man pointedly tries not to look at him. He can’t help scoffing at the false modesty.

“ Hood. You shouldn’t do this out in the open like this. Anyone could see you. “

Everyone knows Jason is an omega, by extension that means Red Hood. It’s one of the reasons why his territory is so well protected. No one wants to cross an omega. While the fangs in their mouths were now more for scruffing kits, no one had forgotten the days when they were for hunting prey and tearing out throats.

He would flash his at Dick but he’s wearing his helmet and would probably just looks stupid. He manages to get the other pad off. It’s absolutely drenched. His left teet is definitely working harder than the right. The sheer weight of the cotton makes a loud squelch as it hits the little plastic bag at his feet.

He snorts. “ And you know what they’d say N? Best tits in Gotham. “

The alpha’s face is anything but amused. The furrow of his brow and spike in his scent is territorial and aggressive. It’s laughable really considering the fact that between the two of them, Jason is actually the one in charge of protecting the pack. It’s all a part of being the lead omega.

Whether Bruce or Dick want to accept it or not.

“ Stop objectifying yourself like that. “

Jason enjoys the feeling of being clean and dry as he gets the other cotton adhesive on. It’s a welcome sensation. Especially when he straightens his armor and it’s a little less chafing and tight.

“ It’s only objectication if I say I’m only a nice pair of tits Wing. Luckily I’ve got a nice set of thighs too.“

He pays Dick no mind as he stands and packs away his used pads to be thrown away later. He might have to call it an early night at the rate. With the way fall is quickly approaching his heat is just dying to make an appearance. Perhaps he could get away with offering himself to the foster system. With the amount of milk he’s making now it would be better for the pups who need it to benefit instead of it all going to the trash.

“ Hood! “ The sound is a scandalized growl. It’s funny enough that Jason throws his head back and laughs free and clear. With the voice modulator it’s mean and menacing. Amusement bubbles in his chest. He can’t help taking off his helmet so that Dick can take in just how wide his smile is.

“ Sorry Wing. I’m a pretty girl. What can I say? “

Talia is nothing but progressive. While many omega’s in the west suffer from low self esteem. Jason learned his worth quickly. Confidence is beauty. The more one loves themselves, adores them selves and takes time to know themselves the more they blossom. It’s a deep healing that not everyone gets to understand. A privilege for a few chosen omegas. He cocks his head and smiles and see’s the exact moment Dick starts losing his footing in the conversation.

The alpha is tongue tied.

“ That’s not what I mean and you know it Hood. “

Jason shrugs. Once he’s got his stuff away he’s ready to run roofs and actually get some work done.

“ Sorry Goldie. It’s 2021 and haven’t you heard? Red Hood says free the tiddies. “

He doesn’t wait for a response as he makes a running start towards the edge of the building. It’s always such a thrill. He tucks a bit to clear the gap. The moment his legs touch the concrete the sound is silent despite the bulk of his frame. Dick calls after him but he loses the words in the wind. Laughter bubbles up in his throat. He wouldn’t be a prude just because his family wanted to be sexually repressed more than they wanted to be happy.

Dick doesn’t try to catch up with him and Jason finishes the night patrolling with Tim and Stephanie.

He manages to get an entire three hours out of the next set of pads. Instead of changing out in the open he accepts Alfred’s invitation back at the manor for a warm bath and cookies. Tim stares at his chest while Jason gets himself decent.

Tim is a gorgeous omega, with a slender petite frame and porcelain doll-like features. He always seems to get shy in the presence of Jason’s more unconventional curves.

Jason knows what low self esteem looks like. The younger omega wears it no matter how much bravo he tries to exude. Jason brushes against him briefly and lightly. His usual fragrance is marshmellowy from the sweetness of milk that clings to it.

There’s an immediate blush as Tim ducks away. Clearly he’s embarrassed from being caught. Though in reality where is the shame in a little boob appreciation amongst omegas?

“ You know Timmy, you gotta stop wearing bras. Maybe if you show a glimpse of those pretty pink nips Kon would take the hint. “

Tim goes red from his ears to his chest. Jason can practically see the steam coming from his ears. He slaps his hands over his petite breast quick enough to hurt. Jason wants to let him scamper off but instead he presses into his space even more. Long gone is the perfume of pup, now that Tim has come fully into his omega hood. Every day his scent leans more and more towards caramel and sugar.

“ Uhg you’re such a jerk. “

Tim tries to dodge out of his hold but Jason gets him anyway. The omega yelps and Jason ducks him right between each swollen peck. They are red and tender from patrol. He hasn’t put on new pads yet so some milk beads at his nipples. The little shriek Tim lets out is hilarious.

“ You’re going to get milk in my hair! Jason stop- God you suck- “

The omega fights and Jason lets him go before the two actually get into it. It’s light and playful. Well for the most part. Tim gets some milk on his face and the teen honest to God looks terrified. He curses all the way to the shower stall to take another quick bath all while Jason cackles at his misfortune.

“ I swear to God, when I start milking I'm going to get you back Ten fold! “

Jason rolls his eyes. As if.The last thing Jason’s afraid of is milk. It’s a natural thing. God everyone in this pack is repressed.

“ We’ll see about that Timberella! “

The omega hisses and Jason has to hold back a laugh as he leaves the shower. He’s so light and high from the interaction that he completely for gos a shirt. Not that he really wants to wear one. Not with how milk heavy and tender his chest is. Alfred’s always been pretty cool about it too. Being from the 60’s and all that jazz.

Jason maybe gets half way through the cave before the sound of metal crashing draws his attention. Dick walks cleanly into one of the metal tables in the middle of the lab space, knocking over tools and gadgets.

Bruce is thoroughly unimpressed from where he’s helping Damian stretch before bed. He’s in half of his costume, suppressors and scent blockers gone. The sheer disappointment in Damian’s gaze is astonishing.

“ Richard, please control yourself. “

The alpha looks like a deer caught in headlights, his mortification absolutely palpable in the air.

Jason does catch his eyes on his chest though. He smirks and sees the moment horror grows in those bright blue eyes. Instead of heading towards the stairs he decides to circle back towards the group.

Bruce chuffs from his position on the floor. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing but does tilt towards him in reverence. It’s been the biggest change in their dynamic. Bruce finally learning to respect Jason as not only a pack mate, but the pack omega. He greets him with a scenting.

Unlike Dick the alpha seems to pay little attention to his milking.

Damian’s puppy nose twitches as he leans towards him. It makes his heart flutter really. While Damian would never ask, Jason has thought of offering his breast many times. While Technically too old for it, they’ve all done their fair share of growing up too quickly. Something that Jason Laments as well as appreciates.

He scents Damian more thoroughly than Bruce, making him bristle. The boy tries to move out of his hold, hands swatting him away.

“ Todd cease your pestering immediately! If I smell of milk my peers will assume I still breastfeed. “

Jason snorts and pulls back from the prickly pup. Bruce gets a stupid fond look on his face and for a brief moment he feels it echoing on his lips.

“ And what’s wrong with that? If your pack omega is milking of course as a pup you’re welcome to it. “

Damian’s green eyes widen a fraction. His mouth opens in disbelief. Clearly, Damian in fact did not know that. Bruce stares as well, his scent turning into a sweet blend of ‘love-admiration-awe’. It draws a shiver up Jason’s spine. The tender mix of affection from his pack blankets over him like a net of spun sugar.

Jason doesn’t know why he feels drawn to look at Dick. The alpha hasn’t said anything in the past minute. He cuts his gaze to the stone still alpha and his heart flutters in excitement. The looks of jealousy and want is so strong that his intentions sparkle clear like aquamarine in shallow ocean waters.

The alpha is so much more honest when he thinks Jason isn’t looking.

He grins at Dick.

The alpha immediately shrinks in shame and embarrassment.

“ And of course any alpha spending my heat with me. “

[zechleton]

Ranting and Raving About Magic in 2022

I haven’t written about Magic in ages, so what better way could there be to get back into the habit that a stream of consciousness spiel about the 2022 announcement?

Strap in, folks, because this is going to be long and poorly edited.

Actually, it’s not that long, about 1500 words. It might feel longer, though.

Neo-Tokyo or something idk

As one of the five people on r/magictcg that didn’t want to return to Kamigawa in standard set, I have to admit this one looks surprisingly awesome. The couple of pieces of art Wizard shared looked fantastic, as usual, and I’m a sucker for that blue/pink colour scheme. I’m not a huge fan of time travel as a story telling device but since the Magic story has always served the card game, using tropes I don’t enjoy is far from a deal-breaker. Yeah – I’m cautiously optimistic about this one.

Someone Made Elspeth an Offer she Couldn’t Refuse

Obviously, we know much less about this set. Still, it sounds right up my alley. I’m curious how Wizards is going to make Magic meets The Godfather work, but the good kind of curious. On top of that, I’d really like to have some more shard-based commanders on Arena for Brawl, and I assume we’re the “three-colour demon crime families” isn’t referring to clans (triome?) again after leaving Ikoria behind. Also, come on, how can you not love the sound of demon crime families?

Glory, Glory, Dom United!

There is a part of me that gets nervous about nebulous concepts like design space whenever we go back to an old plane again. All these crossovers (more on those later) take on a different appearance when viewed through an “are they running out of ideas” lens. Still, Dominaria was fantastic, by far the best “return to” set – though I’m hoping Innistrad claims that throne in a few weeks. With that in mind, I’m expecting Wizards to knock it out of the park with DU, just like they did with Dominaria.

The Nostalgia Wars

I might scoff somewhat at Magic’s storyline sometimes, but I’ve read the stuff that people think is good. I own both collections of the Artifacts Cycle. They all pale in comparison to good fantasy, but they’re not bad, and they hold a special place in my heart from when I was more invested in stuff like lore and story. The point of that ramble? 2022, more than ever, is Wizards’ mining the seemingly neverending mineral that is nerd nostalgia. It further adds to my “are they running out of ideas” worry, but I can’t say the nostalgia hit/psychological manipulation isn’t working on me. Hell, Return to Return to Innistrad has me more excited than any set for a couple of years now so I guess I’m part of the problem.

Uncaring

The phrase “not for you” is thrown around distrubingly often in Magic circles nowadays. Unfinity, however, is decidedly not for me. And that’s fine.

Dungeons And Dragons Battle for Baldur’s Gate Commander Legends I Think That’s The Whole Title But Maybe I Missed a bit I’m not Sure

Yikes, what a mouthful. I hate the title, both its length and unwieldiness. I don’t really have much interest in the set either. Commander Legends was a neat idea with a lot of flaws. Adding crossover flavour from another IP I have little-to-no interest in isn’t helping matters, though I appreciate that Adventures in the Forgotten Realms was super popular. For me, AFR was pretty much just a core set without any of the usual references to sets I do know and care about. Another “not for me” release.

Double Trouble

Hmm. I’m torn here. As a primarily limited-focused player, Masters sets have been some of my favourites ever. Original Modern Masters is still one of my in my top five sets of all time, and I have fond memories of almost all of the others, too.

Original Double Masters, though, was a victim of apathy brought on by the never-ending deluge of Magic product being released nowadays. I have never even seen a booster of this product, much less opened one. Without looking it up, I can’t even tell you if it was hurt by the pandemic or not, because there’s just way too much fucking stuff nowadays. I don’t know what else to say.

Oh, hang on. Was this the set with a $100 VIP Booster? Hahaha, fuck off.

Jump Around

The original Jumpstart was surprisingly enjoyable on Arena. I never wanted to play it more than a few times, and sometimes you got packs that relied entirely on your opponent getting mana screwed, but those few times I played it were pretty fun. I think putting stuff like obvious eternal format staples like Alosaurus Shepherd in a set like this is some extremely anti-consumer bullshit, but as a play experience it was an interesting mesh of draft and sealed. Not as much fun as either of those, but close enough that the novelty carried it into the “pretty fun, actually” camp. I expect more of the same – I’ll probably do a few runs if I have gems or gold spare.

Universes Beyond: Warhammer 40K Commander et al

Really, this is the bit about all the crossover stuff.

Another vomit inducing title and one that has left me with some introspection to do. Like many people, I find a lot of this crossover stuff distasteful, but I can’t really say why. The fact that the Street Fighter one – an IP I have some amount of investment in – seems less egregious than Warhammer of D&D makes me think that I don’t necessarily object to crossovers on principal. Does my dislike come from the fact that, so far, all of the other crossovers don’t involve properties I care about? Maybe. Even the mechanically unique line of text that pissed off so many people when the Walking Dead set came out doesn’t bother me that much, because Commander is a format I can take or leave.

The Fortnite one rubs me a different wrong way, though. Partly, it’s the sheer fucking inevitability of it all. Of course a popular part of the nerd sphere will have a crossover with Fortnite because that’s just the world in which we live. Partly it makes me feel old, uncool, and excluded, like all the other crossovers I don’t care about, sure. But there’s something more visceral about Fortnite. It’s fucking everywhere and I resent feeling like I have to have an opinion about it. Still, I don’t really have strong opinions about most of the other crossovers, so why this one? I really don’t know. Maybe this is one “this isn’t for you” too many from a game that has been part of my life for over 20 years.

I haven’t bought a single Secret Lair, but I’m generally willing to accept that they’re a bonus product that isn’t needed by anyone but is wanted by some. Hell, if they put out Secret Lair: Snapcaster Mage with good art (at last), I could probably te tempted into picking one up. It would be against my better judgement, though. Something about all these “not necessary but also don’t miss out, aren’t they cool, spend more money please” products rubs me the wrong way. Playing Magic and hating capitalism are difficult interests to reconcile. That’s it. That’s the tagline for this article.

Oh, right, it’s just a blog. Never mind.

Oh, God. The Fornite Secret Lair is going to be the Snapcaster Mage one, isn’t it?

Then there’s Lord of The Rings. My pal Kristen will be thrilled about this, was my first thought. I’m less enthusiastic (shocker, right?), but at least LOTR makes sense as a thing to crossover with. I mean, apart from the obvious business sense. It doesn’t have any guns and it isn’t an obnoxiously ubiquitous battle royale FPS, so that already puts it ahead of two of the other three crossovers. Indeed, without LOTR, you can make a reasonable case that MTG would never exist in the first place. Personally, I view LOTR in the same way I view The Beatles – they were important, and worthy of respect, but have been surpassed in every way since.

And the movies are better than the books. There I said it.

Regardless, this one is fine, actually. I still don’t particularly care for crossovers in general, especially as the setting for a standard set, but at least it makes sense this time.

Shut up Already

Alright, I hear you. I know a lot of that was negative towards the end, but I want to reiterate that a lot of the stuff happening in standard sets next year is really exciting, if a little unoriginal. The crossover/sellout stuff and the interminable deluge of FOMO-driven products is worrying and disappointing, but I guess we just have to try and ignore the ever-increasing number of “not for you” products and focus on the stuff we do like. Seriously, Neon Destiny looks amazing, and I don’t even like anime.

[sarcastic-bubble]

More Colourful With You

Paring: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: none

Request: Ahh! I loved your newest Cal x reader writing! I was wondering if you write another with the Mantis crew having a day off? So Cal decides to take the reader out on a date? Tysm! Have a great day! - Anon

A/N: It is now my personal goal to go to India where they total celebrate this festival in the spring called Holi. Like the whole point is throwing paint at people and eating sweets? Sign me up. (I’m sure there is some deeper meaning but I didn’t research that far into it for this fic, pls don’t judge me)

Masterlist

The crew of the Mantis were looking forward to their day off. Just the night before you had landed on a lush forest planet. Far enough from the nearest settlement that no one would notice your presence but close enough that those who wished to visit could. You sat at the dining table and picked at your breakfast and listened to Cere and Greez discuss their plans for the day. There were a few errands Cere wanted to run while they were close to civilization, even on days off there were things to do, and Greez was going on about the local cantinas and cuisine. Your plans for the day were quite simple, you planned on doing absolutely nothing. Days off were rare and you planned on enjoying it cozied up in a soft blanket with a hot drink in hand and finishing that terrible romance novel you had started ages ago.

You cleaned your dishes and then made your way to your room to grab the few things you would need for the day. You were then stopped by a grinning Cal, “Hey, (Y/N)! excited for our day off?” You could see BD-1 climbing up his back as he spoke. He trilled in a happy greet once on Cal’s shoulder.

You took a moment to pat the droids head before you answered, “Oh it’s going to be great to finally be able to do nothing all day!”

“So, you don’t have any plans for the day?” he asked cocking his head to the side.

“Nope, not really I guess,” you replied with a shrug.

“Great!” His excitement caught you off guard. You certainly thought it was great, but you were getting a funny feeling he was excited about your lack of plans for an entirely different reason. His grin only got bigger as he began to speak again, “Cere was telling me about this festival they hold today in the nearby settlement every year. She didn’t remember much about it except that it’s a festival of colour!” He stopped talking again and a light blush rose on his cheeks, “I have, uh, a few spare credits and um, we should… I mean I was wonder if you’d like to go check it out with me.” His blush only got worse becoming a shade much closer to that of his hair. You and Cal had become fast friends when he joined the crew of the Mantis so it wasn’t odd for you to spend your free time together, but the way he was acting was just a little odd. It almost seemed like he was asking you on a date.

An involuntary blush covered your face and you sorted everything out in your mind, “like a date?”

Cal slowly rubbed the back of his neck as he looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to hide how flushed he was, “Um... Yeah, like a date.”

Your other plans or lack of were immediately forgotten. You’ve had feelings for Cal for about as long as you had been friends but had kept them to yourself for a few reasons. One of them being the fact that telling anyone that you were in love with them can be a terrifying thing and the other being you didn’t want to risk your friendship if he didn’t feel the same. Yet here he was asking you on a date, you swore this was like a dream you had once. How could you say no? “Can you give me twenty minutes to get ready?”

“Yeah,” he replied grinning like an absolute fool. Cal stepped to the side letting you past him and then watched you disappear into your room. BD-1 trilled next to his ear excitedly saying something along the lines of “I told you so.” Cal looked over his shoulder at the small droid, “Yeah, you did buddy, guess I shouldn’t have been so nervous after all.”

----- Cal waited outside of the Mantis, the breeze was cool but not cold and the sun was bright warming everything in its light. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up to the sky his expression peaceful. He looked almost meditative when you stepped out of the starship. A gentle tap to his should was all it took to get his attention. “Ready to go?” he asked with his usual goofy smile.

You took his hand and held it down by his side. “Of course! I just hope you know where we're going because I don’t.”

Cal was worried he was going to implode when your handheld his but once he took his eyes from the sky and looked at you, he knew he would. You looked much like you always did but the way the red lipstick accentuated your lips caused his breath to catch in his throat. He took a moment to try and regain his composure. “You look nice,” he said slowly.

“You really think so?” You looked down at your feet in an attempt to hide your blush but also the giant and quite a dorky grin that had been caused by his simple compliment. “I thought it might be nice to dress up a little, it turns out the only nice thing I had was some makeup I bought at a market ages ago mostly on a whim. I probably look ridiculous and you’re just too nice to say anything.” You reached up to wipe the lipstick off with the back of your hand, but Cal was quick to stop you but taking the hand with his.

“You’re beautiful,” he reassured, “Now let’s get going before we miss all the fun.”

------

You could hear the sounds of cheering and laughing long before you could actually see your destination. With each passing moment, you found yourself more and more excited. What would a festival of colour entail? What sort of food would be there? What exactly was causing the locals' laughter to echo through the forest?

When you arrived in the small town you were not disappointed. The streets were lined with vendors selling anything and everything. All of the space not filled by vendors were easily filled by the sheer amount of people that had gathered together for the festival. You saw Cal eye a vendor selling various colourful drinks. “Wait here,” he said quickly before approaching the stall.

You felt something hit your arm, it didn’t hurt but it did grab your attention. You glanced down quickly and saw a green powder covering the point of impact and some of the surrounding skin. Off to the side, you noticed to youngling giggling and pointing at you. They were covered from head to toe in various different coloured powered. You slowly approached them and crouched down to their height, they were still laughing but looked as if they were getting ready to run. “Do you two think you can answer a question for me?” you asked in a soft voice. The younglings looked at each other for a moment before nodding eagerly. “I’m not from around here and I was wonder why you two are so colourful?” you asked.

“The colour festival!” the younger of the two chimed.

You looked to the older child for a slightly better explanation. “It’s a game we all play,” said the child slowly, trying to formulate the words to properly answer your question. “Everyone throws dye powder at everyone else. It’s lots of fun! The guy over there sells the best colours!” The youngling quickly gestured to a vendor a little further down the street.

You thanked the younglings and then promptly ran off to find their next victims. You glanced over your shoulder at Cal, he seemed to be intently listening to the vendor talk about his different products. You reached into your pocket and felt the few credits that were in there. You didn’t find much but how much could a fistful of colourful powder cost.

------ The dye powder had turned out to be surprisingly cheap so you had bought as much as you could carry. This particular vendor packed the powder into soft balls that were meant to burst upon contact. You returned to the spot Cal had left you, it seemed like he was finally making a decision. You watched him pay the man and grab to of the small cups filled with a lavender liquid. “I didn’t realize drinks were so complicated,” he said with a small laugh as he returned to you.

Before he could offer you your drink you put your evil plan into action. You threw the soft dye ball you had been hiding in your hand at his face. Cal stared blankly at you for a second, it didn’t look like it had hurt him, he just looked confused. He coughed quietly when he accidentally inhaled some of the bright blue powder that covered the right side of his face. You doubled over in laughter.

Cal, on the other hand, was just very confused. What had you thrown at him? Whatever it had been you found it pretty funny. He looked around and then noticed the entire crowd was covered in a mess of different colours, including you. He saw a clear bag filled with various coloured dyes sticking out of your pocket. He began to laugh too as the realization hit. “Do you have more dye?” He asked grinning mischievously. You nodded and pulled the bag from your pocket matching his. He handed you the drink he bought for you and you both downed it one gulp. Cal’s entire face scrunched up at the taste of the liquid and you let out a rather loud cough you shuddered violently. “What was in that?” You asked grimacing at the after taste.

“I don’t know, I couldn’t even tell what language the vendor was speaking, Now hand over some of that dye, you’re not the only one who gets to have fun.” ----- “Truce!” you shouted, and you rounded a corner. You had run out of the dye you had purchased hours ago, and you had just used the last of the loose powder some locals had given you.

“No truces!” shouted Cal in response. You could hear getting closer, so you began to run again. Unfortunately, you didn’t make it very far until you felt a strong body tackle you to the grass. You wriggled underneath Cal, trying to escape. He used your current position to his advantage and dumped his last fistful of dye on your face finally getting revenge for you stunt earlier. “Well, I guess a truce wouldn’t be so bad,” he said with a cheeky smile. He rolled onto his back next to you.

You only shot him a playful glare. You both lay there silent trying to catch your breath from the last few hours of near-constant running. You couldn’t help but be impressed by the quality of the dye though. Despite the sweat, you were both covered in a rainbow of colours. You shifted around so you were facing Cal, he was watching you intently, yet he seemed deep in thought. His gaze moved to meet yours, “can I kiss you?”

The question caught you off guard. The thought of him kissing you was far from unwelcome; it was something you had wanted for so long. You just hadn’t expected it. “Yes,” you answer quietly.

His hand gently cupped your cheek and he placed a tentative kiss against your lips. He waited a moment and kissed you again, firmer this time, more confident. When he ended the kiss, his lips were tinted red from what was left of your lipstick and curled into an absolutely infectious smile.  You spent the rest of the evening grinning at each other like love-struck fools.

[poignantpulchritude]

Silly Pleasures-Chapter 3

“No, no, no we are not wearing just blue jeans and lip balm to Paradise tonight, go back to your room!”

“C’mon, it’ll be dark, no one will see.”

“But I will see. It’s the principal of the thing Jeanne,” Molly responded, sounding much more like a disappointed mother than friend and flat mate.

“Then you need to help me because I think you’ll hate anything I’d come down in.”

“Fine, gimme a few,” Molly spoke as she curled the last few strands of her golden hair.

I trudged my way back to my room, there were already clothes strewn all over the floor, making it difficult to walk. I plopped down on my bed, laying in down until my body was directly in the center. Clubs were not usually my scene, I much preferred a grimy pub because I liked talking, not really dancing, when drunk. No one ever talked at clubs, words were replaced by groping and bad remixes of passable songs. The saving grace for tonight was that we were going to have a table in the VIP section, which meant less interaction with overly friendly guys that felt they were God’s gift to women’s vaginas.

Molly sauntered into my room and headed straight for my closet. I lifted my head off the bed to watch her rummage through the mess I created. It took a few minutes as more clothes were thrown onto my floor until Molly finally made a triumphant sound and pulled out a small pink dress I was sent by one of my regulars. It was a bright, neon pink mini dress with sheer pink long sleeves. The dress had never seen the light of day since it arrived in the post since, I don’t spend much of my free time strutting around in expensive party dresses.

“Hmmm, I don’t know Molls, it’s pretty bright.”

“It’s fabulous, I know someone sent it to you because everything else you own is so dull. You absolutely have to wear it!”

“I don’t even know if it fits,” I groaned, falling back into my fluffy duvet. 

*

It fit. 

In reality, it actually looked quite nice. I mostly only dressed up in expensive lingerie while online and that covered very little of my body, if any of it. I tried to be annoyed that it was a dress, but found it hard to give reasons why I should not wear it.

“Okay fine,” I conceded with a smirk. Molly squealed and did a small hop in the air.

“You look like Dua Lipa with a fatter bum, it’s amazing!”

I giggled to myself and could not hide the smile. The dress was short enough to show of my large thigh tattoo of Medusa, but not too short that I felt my thong was on show. I paired the look with white, patent leather boots, looking a bit like it was 1980 and I was coming out of Studio 54. 

With my makeup and hair complete, I headed downstairs at the exact moment a knock came on our door. I headed down the hall and opened the door to see Rosie and Amber looking dashing in tight black dresses and thigh high boots. It seemed at time that they wanted to look like twins the amount of times they would dress the same. When turned my way, their jaws dropped. 

“What the fuck J, you look hot!”

“-Jesus, let’s make out tonight!”

I shut up both of their ramblings with quick hugs and invited them inside. The plan was to meet up at me and Molly’s place and then meet Keith at Paradise. Paradise was in the heart of Soho and even though we were not too far away, we collectively agreed we would walk as little as possible tonight. As we walked back to the kitchen, Molly was descending the stairs in a bright blue jumpsuit that made everyone in the room drool. 

“To getting fucked!” Amber exclaimed as we all held tequila shots in the air.

“Wait literally or figuratively?” Rosie asked.

“Doesn’t matter!” Molly said at the same time I yelled, “Both!”

As the shot burned down my throat, I relished the warmth that would no doubt lead to an exciting night.

“Gahhhh that’s dreadful,” Molly gagged.

*

The line outside of Paradise was ridiculous. It hadn’t been open very long and the crowds had yet to die down. We spotted Keith on his phone, standing right by the front door. “Oh, my god, I was so nervous I thought for a minute you would ditch me,” he said sheepishly.

“What the fuck?” I asked rhetorically, in a confused manner.

“When have we ever ditched you?” Molly questioned, amused at his anxiety. 

“God, I don’t know, never mind. I just learned that Matt is supposed to be here so every second I was alone I started feeling terrible.” I gave him a soft look in response. Matt was Keith’s ex-boyfriend, a man that completely ripped his heart to shreds yet he had not been able to completely get over him. 

“Don’t worry, you probably won’t see him anyway,” Rosie assured him. Keith did not look convinced, but brushed it off and led us to the doors. It only took a few seconds to check for his name on the list and we were let in, skipping at least eighty people waiting in line. 

I hated to give clubs too much credit, but Paradise looked impressive inside. The walls were a jungle print wallpaper with low yellow lights along the sides. The VIP section was located along the sides of the room, surrounding the main dance floor with its own bars behind it. All of the people dancing in the center of the floor helped explain the long line outside. This place was filled to capacity and it was still early in the night. We were led to our VIP booth and greeted by an almost nude girl with sparklers next to a bottle of champagne and vodka.

“Oh yes!” Amber screamed. We all looked at the bottle girl in awe, seeing her as the female Hermes with alcohol as the only message to deliver. Behind her appeared another man carrying a large bucket of ice that contained glasses and mixers. Our entire group was in, well, paradise. 

“This may end up being one of the best nights of my life,” I spoke, or more accurately- yelled, in Keith’s ear. He just smiled, appearing to finally brush off his nervousness surrounding Matt. 

Eventually, with the champagne popped and the bottles flowing, we noticed the VIP section start to fill with a very particular crowd. 

“Molly!” Rosie shouted, “Is that fucking Alexa Chung?” Skipping subtlety, she pointed directly at the slim brunette a few tables over. 

“Oh, my god, what is happening,” I heard Molly respond. Looking around, I noticed more and more people with jarring numbers of Instagram followers enter the VIP section.

“Just think, you may be able to get expensive dick tonight!” Keith hollered and I cackled loudly in response and agreement. 

Instead of focusing too much on the people entering, myself and Amber were making increasingly more vile drinks that we convinced ourselves tasted good. Amber, getting considerably more drunk as time passed, pulled me out of our booth and to the small section of floor directly in front of our booth that was still blocked off from the general public. My own tipsiness spurring on the decision to dance wildly.

“I love this song!” she screamed in my ear as a throwback 2000s song played to the crowd’s delight. We danced and jumped in circles until we couldn’t anymore. Along with our absurd dancing, we also decided to shout the lyrics, trying to be louder than the speakers. Molly quickly joined us, leaving Rosie and Keith to have an animated conversation back at our booth. 

I could tell I was slowly getting to the point of drunk, right at that sweet spot when everything was pleasant and bright. I always had to pee at these points. “Come with me to pee!” I said to Molly and Amber, very excited to check out the Paradise bathroom. Before they could properly respond, I grabbed both of their hands and dragged them to toilets in the back corner. I was so excited, I was not watching where I was walking and ended up bumping into a tall guy’s shoulder. “Sorry!” I exclaimed with a giggle, ripping my hands free from Molly and Amber and instead placed one hand on his silk shirt by his shoulder and the other on his check. “Sorry!” I yelled again with a smile, looking intently into his green eyes that looked vaguely familiar. I did not have time to get a better look at his face because my bladder took control of my body and I was suddenly done with our little interaction. I heard a surprised, happy laugh behind me as we all walked away.

The line for the toilets was short enough that we were actually waiting right outside the stalls by the mirrors. I love mirrors and couldn’t help myself as I walked over and whipped out my phone to catch a good angle. 

“Whoa, whoa J. Did you know who that just was?” Amber said, incredibly eager. Molly looked in shock and it was clear that I missed something very big.

“Who? The girl with the nice boots we just walked past?” I asked genuinely confused. Before Amber could respond a stall emptied and I quickly ran inside, dragging Amber and Molly with me. They were both having a quite an animated conversation above me as I peed, but the floor was spinning a bit too much for me to care. I knew I had only one drink left in me before I was done for the night, so it had to be a good one. 

“I’m going to get a Moscow Mule!” I declared when I finished peeing. 

“But we have free alcohol at the table,” Molly said firmly. She seemed the most put together of the bunch, but I knew I was deceived, having learned over time that the more serious she appeared the drunker she actually was. I just shrugged, smiled, and walked out of the stall without waiting for them to pee. When I was drunk and on a mission, nothing else mattered.

I made my way steadily to the bar in the back, making sure not to run into anymore moving bodies. This bar was packed considering it was in the noticeably calmer section of the club. I squeezed my way in between groups of people, maneuvering between flirting guys and annoyed girls, ending up in snuggled between the shoulders of two men. The one on the right had a crisp white button up while the one on the left had an odd silk shirt with tigers all over it. I remembered it as the shirt I bumped into moments ago. Before I could yell in his ear that I apparently knew him, someone jostled me from behind. This knocked me further forward in between the two men, alerting them to my intrusive presence.

I was met once again by green eyes, but this time I did get the chance to look at him more. He was at taller than me, with brown hair pushed in all directions over his head. As I examined his face more, I noticed the corners of his mouth turn upwards revealing a prominent dimple. It took me a moment to realize he may have been smiling because I was staring so intently at his lips. 

“I know you!” he spoke happily in a deep, English accent. This brought me out of my analysis of his lips to actually pay attention to what he was saying. 

“I just ran into you!” I yelled.

“I did it first,” he smiled. I was not sure what he meant by that statement, but before I could question it his friend spoke.

“Hello lovely, do we know each other?”

I turned to look at his friend and detected immediately that it was the man I listened to every morning on my way to class. “Ah!” I shouted and Nick Grimshaw grimaced at my noise, “I know you, but you don’t know me. You’re on the radio and friends with Matty Healy!” 

He gave his friend an amused look and responded, “That I am, do you know who that is?” he questioned, pointing back at silk shirt boy. 

“Yea, he’s the boy I bumped into on the way to pee, we’re friends now,” I affirmed proudly. I heard them both laugh at my words, but I was not paying much attention anymore as the bartender came by us and I yelled quickly, “A Moscow Mule please and thanks!”

I had my body pressed quite closely to silk shirt boy, with my hand resting on the bar, ready to take my drink when it arrived. “I like your dress,” he spoke from above. I just looked up and smiled before raising both arms over my head in an excited movement, showing off my sleeves.

“Thanks! My friend gave it to me.” I’m not sure if I would really consider the client that sent me the dress much of a friend, but I thought explaining in this state would be too much trouble. 

His eyes went to my left forearm when I lifted my arms above my head. Green eyes widened at the tattoo before him, a large snake cut into eighths with the words ‘Join or Die’ etched below it. “Wow this is amazing, may I?” he asked, suggesting a closer look. 

I obliged and pulled up my left sleeve so he could get a clearer view without the sheer pink material over it. “It’s obnoxiously American of me,” I informed him giggling from the alcohol. He gave me a confused look before I continued, “It’s a Benjamin Franklin cartoon about the Revolutionary War. This is probably a tough crowd to show it off in.” I’m not sure how many Englishmen wanted to be reminded of their lost colony. 

“That’s sick,” he responded enthusiastically, gently tracing his finger along the edges of the snake, causing my arm to break out in goosebumps.

“Moscow Mule, twelve pounds.”

The bartender broke me from my trance as I used the hand that was being examined to rip out my credit card from my bra. I heard Nick laugh loudly at the action. “What, it’s the safest place for a girl to carry her delicates. I have everything in here.” Nick and his friend both gave me skeptical looks, urging my innate need to prove myself to come to a head. I then proceeded to whip out two Advil, forty pounds, my ID, and three condoms from my bra.

“Why do you need three of them?” Nick asked, referencing the condoms.

“Because you never know what could happen,” I shrugged, looking up at the silk shirt boy boldly. He raised his eyebrows and looked straight back into my eyes. I felt a small tap on the arm resting on the bar and saw the bartender handing me back my card. I quickly collected everything I pulled out my bra and returned it to its proper position, ready to take my Moscow Mule and head back to my group when a tattooed hand stopped me again. 

“What’s your name?” Silk shirt boy asked.

“You tell me yours first.”

“Harry.” I just nodded, smiling. “Now yours?”

I smirked and went up on my tip toes in my white boots, steading myself on his chest again, and whispered in his ear, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I heard his breath hitch when my lips grazed his ear. I pulled away, smirked one last time, and then walked back into the crowd, daring myself to not glance back. Rosie saw me giggling with my straw caught between my teeth as I returned to our group.

“You’ve been gone for a year, where were you lot?” Keith asked as Molly and Amber came up behind me, followed by two boys. 

“We need to go,” Amber smirked, motioning to the boy behind her, her conquest for the night. Everyone agreed except me, refusing to accept that my night was coming to an end since I just got my favorite drink. 

“Down it and we are going,” Molly giggled. I saw the boy behind her slowly rubbing the sides of her hips, eager to leave as well.

“How did you get them so quick?” I asked in her ear. “I was at the bar for maybe ten minutes.”

She shrugged, “We work fast.”

It took me a minute to down my drink. It would have been quicker if it was not so strong. I could tell that drink was a bad move the second the last drop went down my throat. I was holding hands with Keith as we made our way out of the club and back into reality. As we exited, we were faced with hordes of flashing lights. Paparazzi no doubt hoping we were people of notoriety considering the celebrities in attendance tonight. This thought prompted me to blurt out, “Oh, guess who I met tonight!” speaking to no one in particular. 

“You mean the popstar?” Molly’s head ripped around quick. I gave her a puzzled look, knowing full well that Nick Grimshaw did not sing any songs I was aware of.  

“Only you would not notice a former member of One Direction even though you caressed his bloody face,” Amber said behind me. I stopped moving, beginning to feel bile rise in my throat. I was unclear if I was going to get sick because of the alcohol or the new information I was slowly processing. 

“What?” Keith yelled looking at me, “Who did you meet?”

I ripped myself from his arms and ran to the closest pile of trash away from the paparazzi and threw up. I heard the sympathetic voices of my friends behind me, but I could only think of one thing. I just blew off Harry fucking Styles.

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 2

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 6,462

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

The first thought I had when I woke up was…

 ...who the heck painted my ceiling green?!

Because last I checked, it was a midnight blue… or maybe more of a cobalt blue?  Azure, possibly…?

Whatever it was, it was most definitely not green.

I narrowed my eyes up at it groggily before deciding I didn’t care and rolled over in bed, curling onto my side.  Which led me to my second question…

...where had this frigging baby crib next to my nightstand come from and what the actual frick was it doing in my room?

No… forget the crib… what was the deal with the absolute mountain of Huggies boxes stacked up behind it?

Either this had to be just one of the weirdest, dumbest, not to mention lamest pranks Anna had ever pulled on me or…

...or this wasn’t my room.

I shot up in bed, wide eyes darting about.  Yup, definitely not my room.  Not unless I had decided to do a few home improvements in my sleep and say, I don’t know, move my door to the total opposite wall.  Or how about the entirely different furniture, complete with a giant shelf packed tight with more baby books than a person could possibly ever need in one lifetime?  Then of course there was that heaping pile of toys and stuffed animals stacked in one corner. Did I mention the sheer amount of Huggies? Because dear god, the Huggies…

I was going to have nightmares about drowning in an endless sea of them, mark my word.

It was as I was shuddering at that mental image that it finally all came rushing back to me and I gasped - my wedding! My escape! My shoplifting! My breakdown on Rayne’s doorstep! My-

Wait, wait, go back… Rayne!

...that’s probably where I was.  Still in her apartment.  But… I didn’t remember this room… not walking into it, not even so much as a glimpse of it, just… not at all...

Placing a cool hand to my forehead, I searched my muddled brain some more for the details of what happened last night. Or, seemingly last night anyway, if the early morning light streaming in through the window curtains was any clue.  I remembered… her inviting me in… discovering she was married and expecting, which would somewhat explain the almost disturbing amount of diapers… and then I’d-

Oh dear lord, I had utterly and one hundred percent lost my absolute marbles.  Oh gosh, what must she think of me…

I couldn’t remember much after that. Nothing, in fact. My memories just abruptly stopped. Had I... fainted?

Well I wasn’t going to get any answers if I kept hiding in here. Even less so if I curled up into a ball under the covers and waited for the earth to swallow me and my shame up whole, as lovely and tempting a thought as that sounded.

Sighing, I put one bare foot on the carpet, then the other and reluctantly arose. I spotted my… well... “my” ankle boots tucked neatly next to one of the bedpost legs, prompting me to look down at myself to see that I was still in the, erm… borrowed sundress, now thoroughly wrinkled.  My hair was still in its braid, though calling it that would have been generous as it was now more just one big frazzled knot.  Tossing it back over my shoulder with a sigh, I approached the door, reaching a hand out towards it. My fingers hovered over the knob, hesitating for a split second before twisting it open and stepping out.

A rapid click-clack filled the air as I quietly stepped into the familiar living room from the night before.  It didn’t take long to spot the source. Rayne was seated at the table in the dining space, fingers quickly tapping away at her laptop keys. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed, still in pyjamas and her hair thrown into a loose, messy bun at the nape of her neck.  She had a pencil tucked behind one ear and the light from the screen reflected off the lenses of her black-rimmed glasses, her entire focus trained on her work. 

“Morning, sunshine,” she chirped, not looking up nor putting the brakes on her typing.  “Be with ya in just a sec.”

“Take your time,” I murmured, not wanting to interrupt whatever she was in the middle of. I figured it was the very least I could do after having a total core meltdown in her living room yesterday.

Not quite sure what to do with myself in the meantime, I once more reached for the tangled-mess-formerly-known-as-braid that was my hair, idly toying with it as I glanced around. It didn’t seem like there was much more to the apartment than what I’d already seen.  To my right, there was a short hallway with three more doors, each closed. Presumably one another bedroom where the happy couple slept, one a restroom, which would make the third a…?

Letting my curiosity get the better of me, I stretched a hand out towards the nearest mystery door to take a quick peek.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Rayne sing-songed while otherwise still fully engrossed in her laptop.

I froze, fingertips brushing the doorknob as I turned my head to blink at her.  Then I pursed my lips to one side.  “...closet bursting full of baby diapers?”

Her typing abruptly silenced and she directed an eyebrow quirk my way.  “Actually, yes. How did you know?”

“Wild guess,” I said dryly.  “I’m sorry, did you say you were having a baby or a litter?”

“Shush, you, I’m nesting,” she harrumphed, fingers blurring across the keyboard once more.

For now, maybe it’d be better if I kept my hands to myself. Who knew what other potential death traps Macguyvered out of baby paraphernalia lurked about this place?  Hugging myself, I trudged over to the dining table, took a seat opposite of Rayne and waited.

Hardly another minute ticked by before she gave a satisfied final tap to the laptop.  “Annnnnnd done!” she beamed, clicking the device shut.  She then leaned forward, resting her elbows atop the table and propping her chin on her interlaced fingers as she regarded me.  “So…”

“So…” I fidgeted some more with my frazzled knot, averting my gaze. “...on a scale of one to off-my-rocker, how crazy did I sound last night?”

She closed her eyes with a bright grin.  “Oh, you were batshit, sweetpea.”

I winced.  “That’s... what I thought.  Sorry.”

“Don’t be!” she brushed it off with a flick of her hand.  “It was the most excitement I’ve had in weeks, so actually I’m a little grateful.”

My mouth twisted into a wry grin.  “Well then… you’re welcome, I guess. I’m glad my neurotic episode could brighten an otherwise dull moment in your life.”

“Oh hush, you know I love you.” Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair with a sigh.  “Now it was a bit hard to keep up, but let me see if I got the gist here.  You,” she struck up a finger, “were going to get married…”

I hung my head, “Yeah.”

Another digit rose.  “...but realized you didn’t love him…”

My shoulders slouched as I sunk down in my seat, my voice getting smaller as I said, “...yeah.”

Up went the third.  “...that you never loved him…”

Grimacing, I slumped forward, pressing my face into the table, “Uh huh…”

“...and so you dumped him at the altar.”

I groaned, banging my forehead against the hard, wooden surface.  “I am the worst.”

“Aw, sweetheart, no.” The scraping of her chair against the floor could be heard as she scooched around the table closer to me before I felt her hand rubbing light circles against my back.  “You… just got scared is all, and you panicked… I mean, really? You did the right thing.”  I turned my head, resting my cheek against the table now as I gave her a dull stare.  She pressed on hastily, “No, seriously! If you’d had stayed, you wouldn’t have been happy.  He wouldn’t have been happy.  It would have been a terrible marriage, your lives would have been miserable… really, you did him a favor!  I mean, sure, could you have handled the break up a bit better?” Her face scrunched up slightly before she flung her hands up in the air with a shrug.  “...Maybe?”

“Ugh!” I full on faceplanted into table once more.  “The absolute worst! I deserve to be locked in a tiny, cramped box filled with spiders and worms and dung beetles and moldy, rotten eggs and, and anchovies and-”

“Sweetie, sweetie, you’re spiraling again,” she cut me off gently, taking hold of my shoulder and pulling me back to sit up straight once more and look her in the eye.  “The point is, I’m sure he’ll understand.”  My eyelids drooped at her.  “Eventually! I’m sure he’ll understand eventually. Just… give him some time, let this whole thing blow over, then you two can talk. Get some closure. Okay?”

I looked down at my lap with a sigh and just gave a weak, noncommittal shrug.

“Okay then.  Now,” she hesitated, gnawing her lower lip.  “...can I ask… when you made a run for it, why of all places did you come to my apartment?  I’m always, always here for you, you know I am, but it’s been… god, I don’t even know how long… years since we even last spoke. You didn’t have someone else, any other friends or anyone you could have turned to?”

I swallowed hard and slowly shook my head.  “I don’t… have any friends. Not really. It’s… always been hard for me to make them. I’ve just never been good with people. You remember how I was as a child back when we were at summer camp, all nervous and awkward and hardly able to string two words together.”

She gave me a small smile.  “Yeah, and all the other kids didn’t even give you a chance, just figured you were some snooty, rich brat who thought yourself better than them and couldn’t see you were just shy.” Her grin turned a touch wicked. “I pummeled them good though and made them regret ever picking on you.”

One corner of my mouth twitched upward and I nodded. “I was always so thankful for your friendship.  I’m… sorry we drifted apart over the years.”

“S’okay,” she waved a dismissive hand. “We lived so far apart from each other, only seeing each other every summer.  It’s just something that happens sometimes as people grow older, I suppose. But hey… looks like we’re not quite done with each other yet.”

“Guess not,” I chuckled softly before my face sunk into a frown once more. “I never did get any better at making friends.  Everyone I know now… they’re all my parent’s friends… or they're his friends…”

She tipped her head to one side.  “His?”

I gave her a pointed look.  “Him.”

“Oh. The dumpee.  Right.”

“They’re all just… they’re not people I really know, they’re… acquaintances, you know? And they’re all from munny, they’re all from that world, they were all at the wedding, they… none of them would have understood. Except for Anna, but she still lives with Mother and Father, so best she could do was help me escape. But after that?”  I fell silent, shaking my head.

Her brow furrowed.  “What about your home? Couldn’t you have gone there?”

I gave a derisive snort. “With what munny? I fled in my wedding dress, so I didn’t even have my phone on me, much less my wallet, so it’s not exactly like I could've called an Uber. Besides, even if I could have, that’d have been the last place I went.  My parents pay for my condo and after what I’ve done, I can’t face them. Not ever again. I’m never going back… Mother, Father, my old life, all of it... it’s the past now.” My face hardened as I murmured, “The past is in the past.”

She blinked at me a couple times.  “Don’t you think you’re maybe being a bit over dramatic? It’s your parents. They love you, no matter what. I mean, sure, maybe they’ll be a lil pissed, but-”

“No, you don’t understand,” I shook my head with a scowl. “What I’ve done… I did it in front of all their friends, their colleagues, their… I’ve embarrassed them in front of so many important people. And don’t even get me started on how much they spent on the wedding that I didn’t even show up to,” I grimaced, now squeezing the giant knot that was my hair.  “I had a… we had… they had a plan for me, for my whole future, and I just… blew it all up and threw it back in their faces. So no, they won’t just be pissed, they’ll be furious… we’re talking yelling, screaming, we’re talking Hulk smash, we’re talking end of days, wrath raining down from the heavens kind of mad here. They’re going to cut me off and…” I gulped, slumping down further into my chair, eyes downcast as I whispered, “...and disown me.”

Rayne placed a hand on top of one of mine and I glanced up at her again as she said, “You should call them. But maybe… just give them a little time to cool off first?  In the meantime, it’s a good thing you found me again.” She smiled and I couldn’t help a tiny one of my own in return.  With a couple pats to my hand, she added, “What luck you chose my town to get hitched in, huh? Talk about coincidence! What would you have even done if you’d decided to pull your lil disappearing act in a whole other city?”

“Actually, we were deciding between a few venues in different cities to host the ceremony in.”  I frowned thoughtfully.  “But something kept pulling me back to Radiant Garden in Twilight Town. I think… it was because of you. Subconsciously, I was already planning an escape route weeks ago. You were already my way out, my rope made of blankets hanging out a window, it just... took me a while to realize it, I suppose.”

“Well, happy to be your blanket rope any day, boo,” she tapped my nose with a grin.  “A lil warning next time would be nice though, kay? Ya know, just a quick heads up, something like, ‘hey, I’m planning on making like a banana and splitting from my own wedding and need a place to crash’ will do.”

I breathed a short laugh.  “Noted, though I don’t really plan on making a habit of this.”

“Speaking of plans, any ideas what your next step’ll be? What exactly is your plan here?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” I rolled my eyes. “Already had this talk with my reflection yesterday and trust me, she was totally useless.”  Rayne stared at me blankly and I cocked my head at her.  “What?”

“...context, sweetie.”

“Oh, right.” I suppose there were still a few dots that I needed to connect for her.  “Well… after Anna helped me escape, I needed a change of clothes. If I kept parading around town in my wedding gown, it probably wouldn’t have been long before my parents tracked me down. Luckily, first store I stumbled across was a used clothing shop. After I changed into this,” I gestured towards the crinkled mess of a sundress I was wearing, “right then and there in the dressing room is when my panic attack went into full swing and I sort of got into a lively debate with the mirror about where my future was heading. That was about as effective as you might imagine,” I grumbled the last part.  “But then I thought of you and asked the person working there for a phone book.”

“Ah.” She looked past me to the coffee table in the living room, where the White Pages had been left, still rumpled but now dried of my tears.  “That explains that, I guess. But… it’s a phone book, why didn’t you just call-” She paused abruptly, eyes lighting up as it clicked.  “...busted phone?”

I nodded. “Busted phone.”

Her eyebrows knit together now, voice quaking with hardly contained laughter as she asked, “So the next logical step to you was to steal the phone book?”

My eyes darted to the left. “...yeah.”

“As opposed to, ya know, borrowing a pencil and jotting down the addresses on a scrap of paper? Like a sane person?”

I huffed out a soft growl, wrenching at my tangled knot once more.  “Hi, have you met me? Not good with people, remember? My brain just shuts down and I get all, I dunno… chicken with its head cut off. And being on the lam after going rogue on my wedding day? Did not help matters when it came to thinking straight, believe me.”

She snerked, ruffling my bangs.  “Oh you poor, sweet, socially inept weirdo you! If it makes you feel any better, you’re in good company. As you might recall, I myself am about as eloquent as a potato.”

“But twice as pretty,” a third voice chimed in and we looked over just as Riku used his foot to shut the front door behind him, smirk in place and bearing a styrofoam cup carrier tray with three steaming drinks in it.

“Rude,” Rayne deadpanned, removing the pencil from behind her ear to flick it at him.

He sidestepped it without breaking stride, lips twitching wider. “Not even. You know how pretty I think potatoes are.”

“Dork,” she shook her head as he came to a stop next to her and planted a kiss atop her forehead, depositing one of the drinks on the table in front of her. 

These two? Actually kind of adorable.

But also… ugh. Love. Gross.

She smiled, bringing the cup up to her nose with a curious sniff. “Mmmmm, pumpkin spice? How did you manage to swing that this time of year?”

“Aqua,” he said, making his way over towards me now but eyes still on his wife. “She’s squirreled away a secret stash in the back just for you.”

“Bless that woman, she’s an absolute angel,” she sighed happily, blowing on the beverage before taking a cautious sip.

He gave the two remaining cups a quick glance before handing one to me with a friendly grin.  “A little birdie told me you’re a fan of peppermint.”

“You remembered,” my eyes crinkled as I looked to Rayne, who merely winked at me. I felt the pleasant warmth from the cup seep into my fingers as I inhaled the aroma deeply. Sure enough, it was some sort of minty mocha blend. I gazed up at Riku, managing a shy, tiny smile.  “Thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” he brushed off. “By the way, we haven’t officially been introduced yet. I’m-”

“Riku,” I nodded. “That much at least managed to slip past the fog of crazy and reach my brain yesterday… nice to meet you. Looks like you already know me by now,” I held up the drink he’d gifted me, pointing to where Elsa was scrawled in sharpie across it.  Then I grimaced somewhat as I put it down on the table, fingers playing with the coffee sleeve wrapped around the cup.  It had a grinning feline face printed on it with the words Lucky Cat Café printed underneath. “...sorry by the way... about last night.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for. Sounds like you were in a tough spot and needed a friend.” He stood beside Rayne once more, resting a tender hand on her back as she leaned into him a bit.  “And any friend of Ray’s is a friend of mine. Happy to help in whatever way we can.”

“Thanks…” I murmured, still staring hard at my to-go cup.  The side opposite of the logo had a small blurb of a story recanting how before it became a chain, the first Lucky Cat was a humble little shop in San Fransokyo run by a woman and her two nephews. “...you’re both too kind, really…” I paused with a sigh and a shake of my head, “but I’ve imposed on you both too much already. Thank you so much for letting me stay the night, but I couldn’t possibly ask for anything more from either of you. In fact, I should just go.  Just… give me a few minutes to get myself together and then I’ll leave you both in peace again.”

Rayne narrowed her eyes at me. “You will do no such thing!”

I rose from my chair, “No, seriously, it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’ll figure something out.”

What though? Good question. Was still working on that part.

Her eyelids drooped as she set an elbow on the table and leaned forward.  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you still have a bit of a munny problem, as in you don’t have any.”

I gave a weak laugh and shrugged, “Psh, details.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “And just where do you think you’ll sleep while you’re broke off your ass?”

“I have… prospects…”

“...that wouldn’t have anything to do with the box you mentioned yesterday?”

My eyes shifted.  “And Carol, can’t forget about her.”

Somehow, Rayne did not look reassured.  “And Carol would be?”

Boy, were my fingers really getting tangled in my frazzled knot now. “A… a cockroach?”

“A cockroach,” she repeated, voice flat.

“A hypothetical cockroach,” I clarified with a nod.

“That doesn’t make it better,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, there’s no way I’m letting my friend live in a box-”

“Not just any box! A Rolex box,” I interjected hastily. The silence stretched and I floundered a bit under her unamused stare. “So… you know, like… a really nice box.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, no. Not happening. You’re staying with us.”

I shook my head, waving my hands back and forth in front of me. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly! I don’t want to be any more of a burden than I’ve already been and besides, you don’t have any space for me, not with the baby on the way and-”

“The jellybean won’t be here for another six months at least,” she cut in, looking down to place a gentle hand on her belly. “We were going to turn the spare room into a nursery, but we can clear all the baby stuff out for now and you can use it at least until the kiddo arrives. If you need it for longer, well then, we’ll figure it out at that time.”

“But-”

“Oof!” Riku grunted as Rayne shoved him forward with a smack to his rear.  Rubbing his posterior, he looked from her to me.  “We, er… we ask that you-” He hissed in pain as she pinched his arm, narrowing her gaze up at him.  “I mean, we insist,” he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, whispering, “insist, right?” She gave a firm nod. Clearing his throat, he continued, “We insist that you stay with us. We, uh… won’t take no for an answer.”

Well… when one makes such a super sweet and super coerced offer like that, how could I possibly refuse?

Still I hesitated, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. “I suppose...only if it won’t be too much of a bother… and this’ll of course only be until I can find a more permanent solu-”

“Then it’s settled!” Rayne leapt up from her chair and I staggered as she tackled me in a death-grip hug. “Welcome to your new home, roomie!”

I couldn’t resist a small smile at that. It was fleeting however as the corners of my mouth turned down once more. “That’s only one problem solved though, what about the million others? There’s still my parents, my ex, my- oh gosh, I have an ex now. My first ex. How weird is that? What am I supposed to even do with an ex?! Like what, do I… send him cards now? Like around Christmas? Or is that too impersonal? Maybe this is more of a fruit basket situation... Oh! And munny! I have to figure out what I’m going to do about that now, not to mention my whole life and future and-”

“Stop,” she put a finger to my lips, silencing my babbling. “Breathe. Why do I get the feeling I’m going to be reminding you to do that a lot now?” she huffed softly. “Just… baby steps, okay? I know it all seems like a lot right now, everything is one big fat question mark, but it’ll all get figured out.  You’ve already made a little progress already.”

I blinked.  “...I have?”

“Yes! For starters, you’re not homeless! But also, think about it… you’re already doing better than you were last night. I mean, at least you’re no longer a complete basket case.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I muttered, absently wringing my hands together. Not a complete basket case… now I was only like twelve percent of one.

Okay, fine, more like sixty percent.

“See? It’s still scary, yes, but not as scary and overwhelming as it was yesterday! All you needed was a little space along with a good night’s rest to gain some perspective.”

I slowly eased back down into the chair. “I guess you’re right… things don’t seem as bad today. Still bad, very, very bad, but… not as much as last night. Heh… it’s funny how some distance can make everything seem small.”

“And it’ll just keep getting easier, believe me,” Rayne rubbed my shoulder as she too took a seat once more. “Just look at this as a new beginning.”

My eyebrows knit together. “A new beginning?”

She nodded. “Yeah, like… okay, what was your life like before? Before you flew the coop, before this whole mess when everything was all status quo, what was it like with your parents?”

A low hum escaped me. “Well, I guess I always just did as I was told. I got the grades my parents wanted me to get, socialized with the groups my parents wanted me to socialize with, went to the university my parents wanted me to go to, dated the guy I thought my parents would want me to date… never did any wrong, always followed the rules… I was always just the good girl I felt I had to be. Being their eldest child, I felt I had an image to maintain, that I must always do what was expected of me, that I owed it to Mother, to Father, to the family name.”

“Okay, sure, but now all of that?” She smirked at me. “You can just forget about it! No more right or wrong and you can take those stupid, stuffy rules and just throw them out the window! This is a new start for you. Now you get to decide what you want for yourself, no one else.  You’re free!”

I stiffened at that, blinking a couple times as her words sunk in.

...no right, no wrong… no rules for me?

I’m… free?

That… actually sounded kind of amazing.

But also totally and utterly terrifying.

Where’s a rock to hide under when you need it?

“Earth to Elsa, come in please.” Rayne snapped her fingers in front of my face and I flinched, wide eyes focusing on her once more. “Sorry, I could just already see you drifting off into worrywort mode so figured I had to reel ya back in quick. Look, I get it. Going from life as practically royalty in a gilded cage to being thrust penniless and clueless into the real world would sound scary and daunting to anyone. But you don’t have to do it alone.” She wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist, hugging him close. “You have Riku and me. Just consider us your Real World for Dummies book!”

That… was actually super comforting to hear. I could already feel the anxiety beginning to ebb a bit.  “Thanks, I… that means a lot to me,” I smiled faintly before breathing a small sigh. “Okay then, where should this dummy start?”

“Alright, lesson one,” she struck up a finger. “Everything costs munny. Solution? Get a job.”

One eyebrow shot up my forehead. “A job?”

“Yup! I mean, you’re gonna have to pay for rent somehow!”

My other eyebrow rose to join the first. “R-rent?”

Okay, anxiety back now, and cranked up to a thousand!

“Of course. What, did you think this was gonna be a free ride? Pft, please. I’m your friend, not Mother Teresa. It’s for your own good, you’re going to need to learn how to provide for and take care of yourself. But don’t worry, you won’t owe us anything until you land an actual job.”

“Oh… okay.” That didn’t sound too bad, I suppose.  However… “Just one question: how do I do that?”

Her head tilted to the left. “Do what? You mean… get a job?”

“Yeah,” I nodded vigorously, “that.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Have you never had a job before?” You could almost hear the non-existent crickets as I just stared owlishly back at her. Finally she facepalmed. “What am I saying, of course you’ve never had a job. Why would you? You have enough munny to make Tony Stark look like chump change… er, rather, you had.  Oi, this might be harder than I thought,” she grumbled, rubbing the nape of her neck.

“What were you going to do?” Riku piped up.

I looked up at him with a frown.  “What was I…?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, “You know, as in your career? What were your goals, your ambitions, your plans for the future?”

My fingers were back at it again, getting ensnared in my bedraggled knot. I really needed to see about disentangling the stupid thing.  “Well, I… I guess I never really thought about it…”

“What?!” Rayne’s head rocked back at that.  “How could you not?! Didn’t you say last night you just graduated? What were you going to do now that you were out of school?”

“I was going to get married!”

Were these people even listening to a word I'd said?!

Riku rubbed his chin, “Let’s try a slightly different angle here. What about your major? What were you studying?”

Here I cringed a bit. “Art History.”

Rayne clapped her hands together once, “Well then, there you go! You can apply to a museum or something.”

“But I hated it. Another thing I did only because my parents encouraged me to. I don’t want to work at a museum or sell art or teach it or have anything to do with it!” And once again, I was slumping forward. Hello table, my old friend. Don’t mind me, I’ll just be banging my forehead against you a few times. “Ugh, why did I have to waste four years of my life on that?! Stupid, useless major!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she tugged on my knot, forcing me to sit back up once more. “It’s not that bad, really!”

“Not that bad? I have no skills, no experience, nothing! No one’s going to want to hire me, I’m about as qualified as a frigging kumquat! Scratch that, the kumquat is more qualified because at least it can be made into a smoothie. Can I be made into a smoothie? No! I can't do anything!”

She puffed out a breath, “Calm down, there’s plenty you can do! You’ll definitely figure this out.”

I tucked in my lower lip as I looked down, mulling it over for a second. Then I glanced back up at them hopefully. “...what do you two do for a living? Would either of you maybe be able to get me a job?”

“University professor,” Riku said, jerking a thumb into his chest. “My field is astronomy, not that that helps you one way or another. You said teaching was out.” 

“And I’m a reporter for Meteor Publishing.” Rayne looked away with a low growl, “Though lately I’ve been relegated to online editing work from home because somebody thought it would be a good idea to put me under house arrest ever since we discovered I was pregnant.”

Riku held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Hey now, it wasn’t just me. Vyv agreed with me.”

She scoffed. “Stupid useless boss. In any case, I can’t really be of assistance either, I’m afraid. You kind of need the experience and background to work in journalism. You got anything like that? A course you took for fun in college? Wrote for your high school paper? Anything?”

“I’ve never even so much as kept a personal dairy,” I sighed, eyes downcast once more. “It’s hopeless!”

“No, sweetie, it’s not hopeless! There’s still plenty out there for you! Lot’s of entry-level jobs that’d be willing to train you. It probably won’t be anything glamorous, but you gotta start somewhere! Not gonna lie though, it’ll probably be retail. You know... customer service.”

“Meaning…?”

Looking me dead in the eye, she intoned one single, solitary word that rang out like a funeral toll. “People.”

I blanched.

Okay, this was it.

My nightmare.

She cupped my hands in hers and when she spoke, her voice was gentle. “Sorry, but there’s just no way around it. It’s either that or putting that Art History bachelor’s of yours to work. Pick your poison.”

If you hadn’t gotten the memo by now, me and people? Did not go together. Something about being around them caused my muscles to lock, my heart to freeze to ice, my insides to shrivel, and my soul to exit my body. If it were up to me, I’d have become a hermit a long time ago. But I’d never be able to pull it off... I couldn’t grow that iconic beard that was basically required hermit dress code. Bleh, being a hermit was such a male dominated field, it really wasn’t fair.

All that said, however…

“If I were to go the Art History route,” I began slowly, “it would be kind of like I was still letting my parents dictate my life since they’re the reason I majored in it. No… I want nothing to do with that stupid degree.” My expression hardened. “So, customer service it is then. I’m going to make it on my own, this is just something I have to do.  It… will be good for me.” Despite myself, my tone lost some of its edge as I asked, “...right?”

Rayne grinned big at me. “Absolutely! Besides, it’ll only be temporary, just something to give you time to land on your feet and figure out what you really want to do with your life. And remember, we got your back every step of the way. I can help you with the job search and filling out applications. Riku’s definitely more of the social butterfly, so he can prep you for interviews.”

My back stiffened. “Interviews?”

Riku gave a light snort. “You know, as in the thing that will actually land you a job? Resumes and job forms are great for getting your foot in the door, but they’re not enough on their own. Employers actually want to meet you, see if you’ll be a good fit, get a feel for who you are, stuff like that.”

Oh dear…

Was it too late to backtrack and get married?

Zip it, brain, I don’t want to hear that kind of talk! Stay strong, girl!

“Why don’t you give her a bit of a trial run right now, hun?” Rayne suggested, standing up and offering him her chair. “Give her an idea of some of the questions she might be asked.”

“Alright,” he took a seat across from me, scooting forward slightly and plastering on a blinding smile. “Hi, I’m Riku, I’ll be interviewing you for the position we’re hiring for.” He offered me his hand and I twitched back from it slightly. Blank stare darting back and forth between his outstretched palm and his face a few times, I at last tentatively took it to shake. He cleared his throat, looking at me expectantly. I blinked at him. He sighed, “...and you would be?”

“Oh! Um… Elsa… pleasure, to uh… to make your acquaintance?” I ventured.

“Likewise,” his hands folded in his lap. “Now tell me, why do you want this job?”

I straightened up, “Oh, this one’s easy. For munny.”

Riku spluttered and coughed into his fist. Choking back a laugh, Rayne said, “Tact, sweetheart. Try not to be so blunt.”

“Oh.”

This whole interview thing was sounding harder and harder by the second.

Having regained some composure, Riku tried again. “What would you say is your greatest weakness?”

My gaze shifted to the right as my fingers fiddled with my knot once more. “Oh gosh, I have so many, it’s hard to pick just one.”

He gave me a dull stare. “Maybe consider… honesty is not always the best policy.”

“Also remind me later that we really need to boost that self confidence of yours,” Rayne muttered behind him.

“Alright,” Riku lifted his chin, “Where do you see yourself in five to ten years?”

Was he joking? “I don’t even know where I see myself in five to ten minutes, let alone years!”

He smacked himself in the face, dragging his hand down.  “We… have our work cut out for us.”

And so it went. Riku tried a few more questions on me, but the rest of my answers continued to go about as well as you might expect. As he and Rayne did their best to prepare me for the real thing, I had to keep telling myself that despite my fears and doubts, this was what was best for me. Sure, it was going to be hard but in a way, that was good. My life had been too easy so far, with everyone making decisions for me. Everyone, that is, except for myself. I had been limiting myself and taking the easy way out this whole time, never realizing my full potential. But not anymore. It was time to see what I could do, to test those limits and break through.  This was going to be the new me, not that old fake persona I’d always put on because it was what my parents had wanted. It was time to learn who I really was. And above all, I just needed to keep reminding myself that now…

...I’m free. 

Author’s note: Whew, answered a lotta questions this chapter and we're done with the setup for the most part! Please just bear with me a little longer and I promise things will start to pick up and heat up more by the end of next chapter! You probably noticed a few not so subtle drops both this and last chapter of lyrics from Let It Go sprinkled in. I'm just a dork who's doing her best to parallel the whole running away/Let It Go scene from the movie with Elsa nopedy-noping outta her wedding in this story xD Also, not sure if it sounds weird for Elsa to say "frigging" or "frick" (she's gonna do it semi-regularly-ish) but trust me, there's a reason she does! There's always a method to my madness, I swear! …and sometimes those methods are stupid, but still, what matters is that there IS IN FACT a method xD

Anyway! Next chapter, Elsa gets a job (take a wild stab in the dark as to where, given that the story title, summary, and cover art are NOT subtle), she meets a CERTAIN someone (well, she's gonna be meeting a LOT of new someones, but there's one in particular we've all been waiting for, you know who :3) and at last the true fun, adventure and mayhem can really begin! Thank you so much for reading, and an extra BIG thank you to those of you out there who liked and reblogged last chapter, seeing that always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5014 Chapter: 7/9 Rated: T+ Summary: When his brother disappears coming home from town Madara goes looking for him only for both to end up taken prisoner in a castle hidden by magic generations ago. The candelabras talk, the furniture sleeps, and a great white beast hides himself away in the eastern wing. As he uncovers the story behind this place and gets to know the last small group of ‘survivors’ Madara gradually makes a new home here in the least likely of places.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Chapter 7

Gently swirling the contents of the flask in his hands, Madara watched the translucent liquid rotate in small waves for a few moments before lowering it to resume rolling the glass between both palms as he had been for the past several minutes. In general he’d never been the type for nervous fidgeting but Hashirama's suggestion had confused him and awoken a strange nervous energy of sorts.

“This medicine is for Izuna,” he said slowly.

“Yes,” Hashirama agreed, “but I believe it is important that you take some as well.”

“Why would I drink someone else’s medicine?” It seemed a waste, especially after the happy discovery that it did not disappear at the midnight reset.

Hopping closer along the kitchen counter, Hashirama lifted both hands to still his movements, the wicks in his candles thankfully unlit. “It may do you some good as well. My brother assisted me in reading several of the journals we did not look through before and one of them mentioned that those who spend time near a person infected with your brother’s illness may contract it themselves.”

“But I’m not sick! I’m not coughing or anything! Wouldn’t I have shown some kind of symptoms by this point?”

“Ah, there lies the rub. According to one physician’s notes the illness may lie dormant for months or even years without any signs until something awakens the symptoms. I believe it was referred to as latent tuberculosis – and I also believe that you may have been infected.” Hashirama's candles gripped him tightly as one might clutch at someone’s fingers. “Please, my friend, allot yourself a portion of this medicine. It would not do to cure your brother at last only to fall ill yourself instead!”

Madara lowered his gaze to stare at the flask again, turning that information over in his mind. He’d heard of that before. One of the farmers he used to serve at the inn had stopped coming in to the village square when people finally put two and two together to realize that any pregnant woman who came in contact with him tended to lose the child. They called him a ‘carrier’, although what he was carrying Madara had never bothered to figure out. He himself would never have a wife, what with his attraction to men, so he hadn’t cared much to learn about the exact dangers.

After promising Hashirama he would think about it Madara disentangled himself from their odd embrace and hurried away. The flask slipped neatly in to his pocket for later while he strode through the halls towards the front door. His limbs began to shiver the moment he stepped outside but it was easy enough to put up with a bit of shivering when he knew he would be sweating through his coat very shortly.

True to an earlier promise, Tobirama had thrown himself in to the task of training Madara in the use of a gunbai with surprising enthusiasm. Six out of seven days they met, ran through a specific set of warm up stretches to loosen their muscles, then sparred until the massive weapon began to slip from Madara's grasp. Apparently he could only be considered a master of the art when he could endure any amount of abuse without ever allowed the gunbai to leave his grip. Considering how tired he usually was at the end of their daily exercise Madara had quickly built an appreciation for the strength of warriors in Tobirama’s time. They must have taken battle quite seriously.

Struggle as he might, in the end Madara was forced to admit defeat when he could not convince his arms to lift the weapon he had fallen in love with even one more time. The entire bottom half of his body was soaked through from stumbling around in the snow but his shirts were damp only with the sweat from his own body as he jammed the gunbai in to the ground and leaned heavily on it in an attempt to catch his breath.

“Your abilities are growing at an admirable rate,” Tobirama mentioned, already politely cleaning the blade he preferred to use for their training sessions.

“Right,” Madara snorted. “My ability to get clobbered in to the ground.”

His friend granted him a fond smile. “Would it make you feel better to know that I would be much less of an opponent were I blessed with my natural size once more?”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Truly I am not. I was trained as all my brothers were but I had other pursuits which caught my interest and swordplay was not one of them. What makes me formidable now is the sheer size of this cursed body.” With a wry twist of his mouth Tobirama gestured down the front of him with one massive arm and Madara paused to consider that.

“I guess if you didn’t have arms the size of my calves you wouldn’t pack so much of a punch, yeah. You’d probably still grind me in to the dirt.”

Coming forward to help him stand and leading them both towards the armory, Tobirama hummed. “Would that I could pit you against Hashirama instead. You may not see it but I do: your stamina has already improved by leaps and bounds, your movements are stronger. Already you may have surpassed my abilities.” Oddly enough he even looked proud to say so rather than the clenched jaw of forcing out an unwanted admission as Madara would have expected from anyone else he’d ever known.

He kept his silence as they made their way inside the armory to finish cleaning their weapons and put them away. Proper storage and care of one’s things was something Tobirama was rather vehement about, though Madara happened to feel the same so it wasn’t exactly a lesson hard learned. As much as he usually enjoyed the few moments when it was not considered weird to lavish tender affection on an inanimate object, though, his thoughts drifted to other concerns as he went through the motions today entirely on autopilot. Neither of them spoke until the gunbai and sword were both hung back in their proper places and Tobirama was already turning for the door when Madara's voice called him back.

“Sometimes,” he began slowly, “you have a good day and the way you talk is almost hopeful. But then other days you talk like you expect to live forever stuck in time the way you are.” Unsurprisingly Tobirama’s expression immediately turned somber.

“It is not being outside of time’s flow that bothers me but–”

“Yeah, I know, the body. But the body isn’t yours. You just acknowledged that yourself.”

“Perhaps. But it is the form I deserve.” One of Tobirama’s hands slid down to press against where the fur covering his legs rose up over his hips as well.

Madara turned a little more towards him and very carefully did not fold his arms in an effort to avoid confrontational body language. “No it isn’t. No matter what mistakes you think you’ve made – and we all know you made none – that doesn’t make you a beast or an animal or anything. If anything that probably makes you more human than ever.”

“How, precisely?” Tobirama asked incredulously.

“It’s in the nature of humans to make mistakes.” Madara shrugged. “It’s what we do. We’re imperfect and we try our best but it’s just…it’s human to fail.”

He wasn’t really surprised to see Tobirama look away from him uncomfortably. If he ever did get all of these idiots back in to their human selves the first thing he was going to do was smack Hashirama upside the head for never saying half the things this man so clearly needed to hear. None of these thoughts should have been allowed to take hold of him. If Madara had been around back then he would have been kicking in doors to give Tobirama a piece of his mind, telling him all the things he needed to hear no matter how badly he didn’t want to hear them.

A blind man could tell that his words had already made the other uncomfortable but Madara was merciless. Better late than never.

“I won’t bother dragging the whole argument out of the closet, you already know my opinions on what happened and your lack of blame for it all, but I just…do you really see yourself as not human anymore just for that? Even after all this time?”

“Would any human do to another what I did?” Tobirama asked quietly.

“Yes! Lots of them! Literally any one of us would kill one person to save the lives of a hundred others, especially if that one person was already dying and happy to have their suffering end.” And oh how those poor people had probably been grateful to have their suffering end.

Tobirama looked away. “It was not one person but hundreds,” he insisted. “That is different.”

“No, it really isn’t.”

Madara almost reveled in the frustration he could see behind his friend’s eyes. That was good. Frustration was another human emotion and the harder Tobirama fought to prove his point the more opportunities Madara would have to show him how he was wrong. And he had always loved proving people wrong.

“You were born a human,” he went on mercilessly. “You learned as a human, you grew as a human, and from that ripped up portrait I caught a glance of you looked pretty damn human to me. But if you’re so damn determined to be a monster then answer me one question. How does that make you any different?”

“I…I do not follow…”

“Does the form of a monster determine its insides? Can you tell from looking at a man whether he teaches children or murders them in their beds? No. So just because what you might call a monster has some kind of twisted body or ugly outsides that doesn’t mean the insides are ugly too. You don’t know! Maybe the monster under your bed just really needs a hug or something!”

Barely remembering he was trying to keep his body language open, Madara propped both fists on his hips and nodded in approval of his own points, silently enjoying the flabbergasted way Tobirama was staring at him. It wasn’t often he got to flap the unflappable king of cool. Or so he sometimes referred to Tobirama in his head. Whether it was the era he’d been brought up in or just his natural composure the other had a tendency to remain calm and utterly in control of himself at all times – or until Madara said something that hit one of his weak points.

It felt like a good sign that it took a couple of minutes for Tobirama to compose himself enough to speak again. Clearly if he wasn’t speaking he was thinking because this was a man whose brain simply never shut off but as long as he was giving consideration to the right thoughts Madara decided he didn’t mind the wait.

“You are…unlike any other I have ever met,” was the final conclusion.

“Eh? I guess you haven’t met a lot of decent people in your life.” Madara paused thoughtfully. “Or maybe you just haven’t met enough assholes, Izuna tells me I’m an asshole all the time.”

A look of fondness flashed across Tobirama’s face. “Your insistence upon seeing me as more than I am is both flattering and delusional yet I cannot seem to bring myself to request that you stop. It is more than I feel I deserve and…I appreciate it.”

“Oh yeah well your definition of what you deserve is wildly skewed.”

“Perhaps because I prefer to dwell on more pleasant things. Such as yourself.” Tobirama smiled in an oddly hesitant way but Madara only smiled back without questioning it, snorting a little with amusement.

“It’s been a long time since anyone called me pleasant,” he admitted.

“A travesty. You should be appreciated more often.”

Eyeing his companion a little sideways, Madara hummed. “If you are trying to sweet-talk me in to a change of topic it won’t work. I’m still determined to show you how very humanly stupid you are being. Although I’ve got to admit that a little flattery never hurts anything, you could stand to say a few more nice things to me.”

“My good friend, I could spend the rest of this day listing your better qualities without ever repeating myself.”

“Damn.” Removing one hand from his hip to scratch at the back of his head, Madara laughed. “You must plan to talk really, really slow then. I don’t have all that many good qualities.” It was all he could do not to leap in to the air and pump both fists with joy. Tobirama had called him a good friend. Considering him a good friend meant the other was forming new attachments and doing that meant that he was not so disconnected from his humanity as he thought. Madara couldn’t wait for the appropriate moment to turn around and shove that big step forward in the other’s face.

Underneath the calm mask of Tobirama’s twisted features Madara thought he saw a moment frustration but it was gone in the next instant so he dismissed it. He did have to admit that his responses probably sounded a little flippant and Izuna had always told him how annoying it was when he gave off an impression of not being invested in the conversation. If that was it he did feel a little bad. He was very invested. Other than Izuna’s health there was nothing more important in his life these days than helping Tobirama learn to see himself as human once again and not just because doing so would return to him his own freedom.

No, he wanted Tobirama to remember his own humanity because they were indeed friends now and he wanted his friend to remember, above all else, the feeling of happiness. His own brand of freedom. What could ever be more important than that?

“Well,” he broke the silence, ready to let the subject drop for now. “If you want to say more nice things to me then maybe we should go inside where it’s warm so I can feel my toes again.”

“Ah, my apologies. I sometimes forget about…”

“Feet?”

“Yes,” Tobirama agreed with shame coloring his tone. That simply wouldn’t do.

Madara headed for the door and tossed over his shoulder with a smile, “I think that’s one of the things where you got the better end of this deal. Do you know how much I would love to just never stub my toe again or never worry about cold feet when I go to bed?”

“How is it that you always manage to put a positive spin on everything?” Tobirama asked as they stepped out in to the snow. “You have more talent for it than even Hashirama.”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll take it as a challenge.”

Another triumph in his favor, Tobirama cracked a smile. “If you wish to avoid his enthusiasm then perhaps you would consent to spending more time in my company. My days are always brightened by your presence. It would please me greatly to know more of you.”

“Not a bad idea,” Madara admitted.

“You approve?”

“Definitely. I mean, we already agreed that we should get to know each other and now we have; now we’re friends. It makes sense for us to spend time together.” Madara sent his companion a conspiratorial grin. “And if it gives me an excuse not to listen to Hashirama compose poetry for his wife then all the better.”

Once again a flash of frustration appeared on Tobirama’s face that he didn’t understand but Madara let this one go unmentioned as well. Questioning Tobirama’s unexplained miniature temper tantrums was probably just as dangerous as asking Hashirama why he was in such a good mood on any given day. Although he was willing to bet that Tobirama would not respond by launching himself in to lengthy poetic speeches that he would then have to tune out, for which Madara was grateful. Just imagining it was terrifying.

Trudging back through the snow was terrible when Madara's legs felt as though they might turn to jelly at any moment but it was made less terrible by Tobirama kindly walking ahead of him and widening the path they had made to come out here earlier. For all the conveniences of having the world reset every day this was one inconvenience he could have done without; it would have been nice to shovel himself a nice path to use but what was the point if it would only disappear? Wasted effort. And Madara wasn’t about to tire himself out for nothing when he already got all the exercise he needed during their sparring sessions.

After detouring towards the stables for Madara to be sure his old mare had enough hay and water they made it inside the castle and paused for him to peel off all the extra layers now soaked through with sweat and snow. Learning how to wield a gunbai involved an unsurprising amount of getting knocked on the ground. Hashirama found them as Madara was contemplating taking his shirt off as well and walking through the halls bare chested until he could go bathe.

Strangely, Hashirama did not have a cheerful greeting for them. Or any greeting at all.

“Have either of you encountered Mito recently?” he asked the moment he saw them. Both shook their heads and Tobirama reminded him that they had been outside for the last couple of hours as they usually were this time of day. “If you see her would you be so kind as to let her know I am looking for her?”

“Of course, brother,” Tobirama replied.

With that Hashirama was gone again, hopping off down the hallways at speeds that threatened to send him tripping over his own metal base. Madara tilted his head to one side.

“That’s weird.”

“I agree. He is not normally quite so abrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, that too. I just meant it’s weird because I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mito outside of the kitchens unless she’s with Hashirama.”

Tobirama looked down at him with brows furrowed in thought. “She was no great lady before she married my brother. I believe the kitchens give her comfort because she was raised there, a simple cook until she caught the crown prince’s eye.”

“Damn. I didn’t know that.”

“She would likely not wish for you to know.” His friend glanced at him sideways with a conspiratorial smile and Madara laughed. Without being told he never would have guessed that Mito had been raised as anything other than a proper lady in the royal courts. She certainly had acclimated well to such a massive promotion if her usual cool demeanor was anything to go by.

The anomaly was an easy one to put out of their minds, the two of them resuming the paths they had intended to take now that their training was done for the day. Tobirama walked with him until they reached the hallways that led towards the royal apartments. As they spent more and more time together Madara was slowly learning more and more things they agreed upon and one of those things was the necessity of bathing after such strenuous activity. Not many things struck him as more disgusting than the idea of going about the rest of his day reeking of sour armpits. He’d gotten enough of that stench from the patrons who frequented the tavern perhaps a little too frequently and he had less than zero desire to be like those animals in any sort of way.

Izuna sat comfortably ensconced in the window seat when Madara entered the room, nose buried in a book and sock-covered feet tucked under his thighs where they were curled with anticipation. He always had loved a good adventure story. For a moment Madara couldn’t help but stop and stare, admiring the flush of color where there had once been tired and waxy skin, the shine coming back to long dark hair. His brother looked healthier now than he had in years and he continued to improve with every day that passed. It was amazing what access to actual medicine would do after years of being sold a shitty half-potent brew to keep him coming back as a repeat customer. If Madara ever saw that witch doctor again the idiot was going to come away from the encounter without all his vital body parts intact. That was a guarantee.

“Bath?” his brother asked distantly without looking up. It was incredibly annoying that he found it easy deciphering the twirling flowery script Madara could not, able to enjoy whatever book he wanted to from the library.

“Please tell me the water’s still hot,” he pleaded.

“Mn. Should be. I haven’t bothered to check.”

Madara grunted and stumped on through to the water closet. Even in the current times it was a rarity to find homes outside of the big towns that were built with indoor plumbing. The fact that this castle had such luxuries available was well worth the fact that to heat the water for his bath still required a small fire under the tub. It was better than hauling water in from the well as he’d had to do all his life. The tub was even make of copper with four clawed feet holding it up above the ground, much more comfortable than the squat wooden barrel Madara was used to crawling in to.  

To his absolute delight the small fire he stoked up before going outside had gone out not too long before, leaving his water a delicious burning temperature he was able to enjoy by submerging a towel before his body so he wouldn’t have to sit directly on the heated copper bottom. Sinking down in to the water was bliss upon his tired muscles and Madara was glad no one but Izuna was close enough to hear the shameful drawn out moan that echoed around the room in appreciation. There really was nothing like a good hot soak after a hard day’s work. And considering that his life had been fairly soft compared to others he felt he was only just beginning to appreciate things like this now after signing on to turn his muscles in to jelly six out of seven days a week.

Although he couldn’t say that he minded. In an odd way the soreness of his muscles felt good, felt like tangible proof of the progress he was making both in his own skill and in convincing Tobirama to see himself as human. The more time they spent together the more his friend seemed to be opening up and revealing new facets of his true self. For him to ask that they spend even more time together must be a breakthrough. Madara grinned smugly, sinking down to hide his expression under the surface of the water, and mentally gave himself a nice pat on the back. Obviously he was such a good friend that Tobirama wanted them to get even closer!

His intention was to soak just long enough that he could lift his arms without feeling like he wanted to scream but by the time he pulled himself out the water had gone cold and the shadows in the room were stretching out much longer than they should have been. Apparently time had slipped him by as he relaxed.

No longer half as sore as he had been, Madara was almost tempted to hum pleasantly as he dried himself off and dressed again in the clothes he’d left in the bathroom earlier, checking first to make sure Izuna hadn’t caught any mice to leave in his clothing again. It was wonderful to see his brother regain some energy but he could have done without the resurgence of the pranks they used to pull on each other when they were young. Once he was successfully covering in mice-free clothing Madara wrestling a brush through his hair until he was able to separate three portions to braid together. The gilded mirror hanging over the sink told him that he’d done a decent enough job, nothing fancy but better than the raggedy drowned look he usually sported walking around with wet hair.

On his way back through the bedroom he double checked the position of the sun through their window and wrinkled his nose. He might be a little late for dinner. Mito hated it when he was late. Hopefully she didn’t overcook anything in retaliation as she so often threatened to do to Tobirama when the man got too lost in his head to remember food.

“Coming?” he called, pausing at the door. Izuna’s face lifted from the book he’d been reading with a glassy eyed look which said he also hadn’t realized the time.

“Five more minutes?”

“And get yelled at by the lady of the house? Not a chance. If you’re not coming now then I’ll bring you up a plate later.”

He watched Izuna wrestle with indecision before finally sighing and setting the book aside, unfolding his legs to stand then pausing to stretch. By the time he finally made it over to the door Madara was tapping one foot impatiently.

“On your own time,” he insisted with heavy tones of sarcasm. Izuna stuck out his tongue.

Together they wandered through the hallways towards the lower floors where Mito should be whipping up her latest delicacy, Izuna patiently listening to his big brother recounting an afternoon of training that probably sounded pretty identical to al his other stories about training. When he could get a word in edgewise he immediately derailed the conversation to talk about the rich fantasy world he’d been reading about and that was just as interesting so Madara decided against scolding him for being so rude. It was always a pleasure to see him so invested, so vibrant.

Instead of the usually cheery voice hailing them as soon as they walked in to the room, however, both of the Uchiha brothers were surprised to find the kitchens empty but for little Kagami dangling from an oven handle and struggling valiantly to open the massive door with his tiny wooden weight. Madara leapt across the room to rescue him, setting the toy soldier on the countertop instead with his heart racing in his chest.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Do you know what the ovens could do to you? What if you caught fire!”

“I did not want for you to go hungry, I was only trying to cook dinner!” Kagami scuffed one foot in to the counter while Madara and Izuna traded looks of confusion.

“Mito cooks,” Izuna pointed out.

“Exactly. Which begs the question again, what do you think you’re doing?” Crossing his arms, Madara lifted one eyebrow in his best impression of a disappointed Tobirama. Nothing got this boy talking than the idea that he had somehow disappointed his idol.

Just as predicted, Kagami pouted. Then he defied expectations by perking up and shaking his head with some measure of authority. “Mito-hime is not here. Hashirama-sama went to find her; he sounded very worried that she was not preparing so I thought to cheer everyone up by doing so myself! Then Hashirama-sama would not have to worry and you would not have to go on with empty bellies!”

For a few moments the two of them stared down at the boy in search of any hints that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. It was a futile effort, though. Kagami was almost more honest than Hashirama and he had no reason to lie to them. Eventually Madara scooped him back up and carefully transferred his small body away from the work station, depositing him in Izuna’s outstretched hands with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He really was glad they had taken such a shine to each other.

“You forget that we’ve lived alone for years; I can cook for myself just fine. It might not be quite up to the standards Tobirama is used to eating but I’m sure he’ll manage to choke it down.”

“It is weird that Mito’s not here with dinner waiting though,” Izuna chipped in, already seating himself on a nearby stool.

Madara hummed with his head shoved inside the closest pantry door. “I agree, it’s not like her. Hashirama will find her though. She’s probably just off distracted with a book or something like you were before I dragged you down. Everything’s fine.”

He didn’t need to look to feel the weight of Izuna’s eyes on him, to read the silence for what it was. Kagami happily began to chatter about something inconsequential and they let him. That was, after all, the point of pretending that everything was normal. Neither of them wanted to upset the poor boy until they knew for sure that anything was amiss.

But his brother had hit the nail on the head. It was very strange for Mito not to be here in the kitchen with dinner ready, stranger still that she would pass up on an opportunity to scold them for deviating from the schedule she had set for their meals. Whether because of her modest upbringing or a need to prove herself worthy in her new station Mito was a woman who thrived on order, everything where it was supposed to be and always at the right time. It might have been possible that she really had simply fallen victim to distraction as he suggested and that she might come flying in to the kitchen with tight-lipped apologies to scold him for using the wrong frying pan.

Or – Madara's fingers tightened around the onion he held between his palms – it was possible that his gut was right and something was very wrong. They wouldn’t know until Hashirama found his wife.

[lovetnaomi]

Secrets of the Dusk Chapter 7

Chapter 7

                 It was supposed to be an easy assignment, Uraraka ran the pencil behind her ear attempting to half-listen to her groupmate’s theories and half-push back spilling what had actually happened. She couldn’t exactly say that perhaps no one made off with the body and perhaps he was still alive and kicking somewhere. For the most part really. The project was about strategizing and the ability to think outside the box, but it was also odd that they were being given an unsolved murder case to figure out. She tapped the pencil against the desk.

               “You’re usually so focused what’s wrong?”

               She turned to Tsuyu, wishing that the fact that she knew Katsuki was up-and-walking around wouldn’t interfere with her ability to think straight. Her ability to think creatively, at least, so that she could come up with a possible viable conclusion on what happened. Something that masses would understand. Not that the body got up and walked away on its own-wait, did he?

 Or did someone drag him to Todoroki’s first? Did Todoroki have to resurrect him? Uraraka shook her head. There was one absolute consistency in vampire lure. And that was how to become a vampire. Todoroki had nothing to do with it. Also, there was the other fact that they had been discussing. Assuming that the killer had come back to clean up their mess.

               “There’s a couple things. Why only one kill? Typically, such brutal killers consider this a work of art, and artist have the tendency to keep creating. I also feel like we’re assuming that the killer came back to clean up their work, which I don’t think is likely unless they got cold-feet about displaying what they did.”

               Tsuyu let out a soft smile, her eyes likely wondering why she hadn’t chosen such a field for her own major. There were a couple answers to that. One of them being the need for answers would drive her insane. She would keep going. And the world keeps spinning. At the end of the day, there would just be more to solve. She couldn’t burn herself out like that. But the case was unsolved. The killer was still out there. If they saw Katsuki was alive. They would be back to finish the job. Uraraka glanced towards the window, or was it something more? Was it some form of vampire etiquette none of them understood. The person who forced the transition on Katsuki thought they actually killed them and darted? If they saw Katsuki was alive would they try to finish the job to seal the loose ends or would it progress the other way? No. Knowing Katsuki, that person would try to finish the job. There was so much blood. They were trying to drain him dry. That person probably did. How his heart began beating again she would never know. The conclusion to that would be there was a serial killer on the loose that would attempt to drain the next nearest victim dry.

Uraraka flipped the page, her bracelet jangling against the paperwork. Her eyes slid down towards it. There was no reason to worry. Todoroki would more than likely swoop in like a hawk the minute something went wrong.  Uraraka took a breath, but she couldn’t rely on them to save her each time. Uraraka took a breath, writing a couple drabbling’s down into her notebook.

The third of their four-man team turning to her, “What do you have? I’m in a slump. Most killers either become serial killers or leave something behind. But we’re working on the why the body was gone. It’s so hard to determine the motive without the killer.”

Tsuyu turned to them, “Most would decide cold-feet. Like at last second they changed their mind or decided to hide it.”

The third person in the group nodded, their eyes sliding towards Uraraka, “What have you been thinking about?”

“If they had cold-feet and decided to hide what they did, why didn’t they clean up the mess they left behind? I think it wasn’t necessarily the killer that moved the body.”

They nodded at each other. Emily, turned the page, annoyance beginning to glow in her eyes, sliding her phone closer to her before setting it down again. It was likely both the fact that they were struggling with a hard angle in which Uraraka found herself guilty for knowing the answers to but having to withhold them because they couldn’t present such a conclusion in class and that Emily’s boyfriend was the other member of the group. And they were not only late, but no message and they weren’t replying either. “He said he was free at this time. And we went around her schedule too.” Emily flushed, glancing down at the table, “Sorry, I’m just a bit embarrassed. I suggested he join our group and now he’s not here.”

Uraraka waved her hands, “It’s fine. Maybe, she got held up in traffic or is having a hard time parking.”

Emily glanced towards the clock, nearly eleven-thirty…..in the night. Uraraka knew exactly what she was thinking. Those were all unreliable excuses. There was no traffic at such an hour and the campus was practically deserted. Emily slid her supplies into her bag, “If either of you have any time after this, that’d be great. I’m sorry about….ya know.”

“It’s fine. Sometimes somethings happen. I hope Jasper’s okay.” Tsuyu stated as Emily nodded before heading out. They waved bye to Emily before beginning to pack their own things.

Uraraka took a breath, “What if the answer to what happened to him is something that we can’t explain in class? Like something no one would quite be able to understand?”

Tsuyu glanced towards her, shaking her head, “No matter what we come up with it’s going to sound ridiculous. We just have to figure out how to back it up so that it’s believable.”

“How about we just arrest the killer and bring them in for show-and-tell.”

Tsuyu laughed, shaking her head at her, “Don’t do anything crazy now.”

“Do you think we’ll get extra credit if we bring the killer in?”

Tsuyu shook her head, glancing towards Uraraka’s pathway back, “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you back? I don’t see Todoroki’s car today.”

Uraraka shook her head. In the darkness of the night, the offer was super tempting, but there was no way she was going to let Tsuyu walk her all the way home than wandering her way around the demon-infested woods that was the borderline Todoroki’s territory. She would be up all night with nightmares unsure if Tsuyu had made it home.  

“It’s fine, I’ve got my pepper spray. I’ll be alright.” Lies. She knew what she wanted. The woods that had begun providing her comfort in the recent days were ushering an atmosphere that made her want to check over her shoulder every two minutes. And the powers that Natsuo had spoke of were being suppressed by the necklace that was also keeping demons and other creatures from wanting to eat her.

So, she had a choice to make. Powers and becoming dinner or barely hidden behind a thin piece of metal. Right now, it was not being dinner. She secretly wanted Tsuyu to walk her home. In the past couple of days, she had grown comfortable with Todoroki being by her side. But there was something chilling about him not being here at the current moment. She waved bye to Tsuyu doing her best to put on a smile. A smile and presence of reassurance. In the last couple of days, she also found herself becoming a progressively better actor. She could do this. She could figure out how to survive in both worlds. Uraraka glanced towards the stars, if their home led them to discover Katsuki’s killer what would she do with that information?

Uraraka sighed, glancing towards the sidewalk. It would result in them on a major avoid list or having to fight for her life. If Katsuki couldn’t survive with how built he was then currently she didn’t expect to manage to put up a fight. Especially against someone who was a supernatural creature. Wait-what if the killer was human? Uraraka glanced towards the sidewalk, what if the killer was human and then a vampire came along afterward pitying Katsuki because of his age and with little hope attempted to resurrect him, walked away before that happened because of being long gone by the time they attempted something, and Katsuki then woke up confused thinking that a vampire killed him? Uraraka shook her head, realizing something, a crucial detail that would enhance her investigation. She had never asked Katsuki himself.

The gruesome scene circled in her head, there were so many details. But mostly the sheer amount of blood was the distraction. The fact that there was so much had pulled her attention away from the more crucial details of the scenery. The familiarity, it had been playing over and over in her own head for days on end becoming clearer and clearer each day. Uraraka felt her eyes slide down towards an alleyway that she must’ve stayed in before Todoroki found her. The faint rustic color of what could’ve been mistaken as rust coloring the edges of the alley. The fading color splattered about. The alleyway both beckoned and scared her. The world tilted, Uraraka felt anger rush over her heart, the need to run into the alleyway whirlpooling around in her head as she felt the anger pump in her veins. Suddenly being thrown back, feeling as though her neck was snapping. Uraraka took a breath. Lowering herself to the sidewalk. She hadn’t moved an inch. She couldn’t make herself follow such an impulse. Not into an alley with that feeling. Not into that alley. There was no mistaking it. This is where Katsuki had been murdered. And that event was clinging dearly to the alleyway. Begging someone to unravel it.

Metal clanked as Uraraka glanced towards the emergency stairwell, one of the residents dragging out their cigarette, “Hey, girl, you okay?”

Uraraka nodded, “Sorry, I-I just didn’t feel good suddenly.”

“Happens a lot around here. I’d move if I could, but hey, at least rent’s cheap.”  

Uraraka nodded again, attempting to wave good-bye as they kept talking. She sent a soft smile before heading further towards Todoroki’s house. Without a companion, the trip was feeling as though it was taking forever. She knew she hadn’t gotten lost. That wasn’t possible. She knew how to get there; Todoroki had walked her there a bazillion times so far. She knew the way. She had gotten there on her own the first time. Faint footsteps echoed behind her. Uraraka swallowed, the feeling of someone grabbing her by the neck in the alleyway still resilient in her mind, picking up her pace as her hand slid to the pouch where she knew she didn’t pack the pepper spray that morning. Uraraka took a breath. She could handle them. They didn’t look too tough. And they probably underestimated her if they were already following her without a second thought. If she could just round the corner and throw a good right hook, then she’d make a run for it. Startle them then escape. Uraraka took a breath quickening her paces the paces following her beginning to match. She took a breath, running for it, the person’s footfalls not bothering to hide that they were following her anymore and already attempting to catch up to her. Uraraka spun, their shadow approaching. Just at the right moment, she threw the punch, Katsuki pushing her hand away barely dodging, a wild smile painted on his face.

“That surprised to see me?”

A mixture of embarrassment and anger mixed through her chest, “Why didn’t you call out to me?”

Katsuki shrugged, glancing towards the alleyway, “Figured you were having one of your psychic attacks and wasn’t sure if it’d be a good time. After that, I did call out, but you didn’t hear me.”

Uraraka nodded. That alley was where he had been murdered. She couldn’t really hold his struggle to call out to her against him. She attempted to keep her hand from moving to her neck to itch it….anything to remove the feeling of someone having their hands around her throat, being dragged to the wall and fighting for her life, anything to remove the brutal feeling of the way Katsuki was murdered. It hurt so much. He made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. But he was angry. He was desperate to win. Like anyone would be. And he had lost the only thing that could be considered purely his own no matter what anyone else said. Uraraka took a breath, trying to steady the dizzying feeling spinning in her head, begging her to get out of the funhouse and take some Tylenol,  “Was that-? Where you?”

Katsuki glanced over his shoulder, his voice given off a slight grumble, “Yeah. I go back there every so often to see if the bastard that made me this way is going to show their face.”

“Are the person who murdered you and the person who made you a vampire the same person?”

Katsuki’s red eyes flashed through the darkness, “Huh? Of course, they are. There’s no way a regular person would’ve been able to take me. Not even as a human.”

She let a slight smile slip, the amount of self-pride that bubbled within him was something to admire. She wondered if she could cultivate and sell it. The fast pace of heels clopped down the sidewalk. Uraraka glanced over her shoulder, seeing Tsuyu, covered in sweat and worry on her face.

“I couldn’t just leave you. I’m sorry. And then I heard you scream, I’m-“ Tsuyu’s eyes slid over towards Katsuki. “He’s alive?”

Uraraka felt her heartbeat increase a few notches. The confusion on Tsuyu’s face as she attempted to connect the dots becoming more and more prominent by the second. Her eyes slid towards Katsuki who glared towards her, “I’m as dead as they come.”

“Don’t lie to her. You’re not. You still are capable of moving yourself. You’ve been undead for a while now.”

Uraraka glanced over her shoulder, Todoroki standing a few sidewalk panels down the street, “Sorry about not being there. Katsuki said he’d go since it’s the new moon tonight.”

“It’s alright.” Her eyes slid back towards Tsuyu, what wasn’t alright was the fact that she felt like a liar to her best friend. That she hadn’t confided anything in Tsuyu. And that she was likely about to find out about way more than she wanted her to know. How was she supposed to keep her safe? Tsuyu meant it when she wanted to go into the criminal justice field. It wasn’t a fling or because it was a decent job choice. It was her passion. And Uraraka felt like a criminal hiding evidence.

Tsuyu slid a knife out of her pocket, “Uraraka, get away from them.”  

[sehriin]

H E A D C A N O N S // sehrin.

01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?

SEHRIN — his birth name, yes. sehrin quite likes his name. it was the name of a queen who at the announcement of war is claimed to have yawned, gotten up from the throne while the messenger was still speaking and said something insulting in regards to the lack of sex appeal and how that greatly offended her. the messenger returned home and reportedly did not deliver the message due to embarrassment and war was thus adverted. true or not, sehrin considers her to be one of his greatest heroes. 

HASI ; VASH ; Y’RI — various aliases that he uses most frequently. you’ve probably heard of them if you’ve been skulking around smuggling depots or reading wanted posters. hasi and vash are both zeltron names, borrowed from celebrities on zeltros, known for their ... more adult holographic content. that was more than intentional. y’ri was the name of a bounty hunter’s dick that serhin just got a kick out of. a lot of his aliases are jokes that he found funny. 

AND MORE! — sehrin goes by many names and often gives out random names that he’ll just immediately forget. he’ll sweep you up in a whole identity of this person only to re-introduce himself as someone else ten minutes later. it really depends on how spicey he’s feeling. 

content warnings for NSFW material, violence, and drug mention. 

02. What is your character’s relationship to their homeworld? Do they hold fond memories of it, or do they hate it? Are they still here, and if not, do they miss it?

“honestly, darling, if you want a good time, go for it. good times are what we specialize in. they’ll treat you real good until you or your pockets run dry — whichever comes first.”  disgust. if zeltros went up in flames, sehrin would find a safe place to watch it burn. it stands for pretty much everything that sehrin hates, the flamboyant rich emptying their pockets just to glut themselves on things they don’t need. zeltros is a place where you’re used up, dried out, and thrown away. you’re sold this lie of pleasure, made to believe you should give it your everything and afterwards, you’re neatly packaged up and left to rot. sehrin was used, abandoned, abused, left for dead, beaten, and tossed away and he  — he has absolutely no love for zeltros.  he has no family that he would want to keep around. no one that he would ever want to see again, no one that matters to him. it’s filthy cesspit of pleasure and sehrin has no use for it. would he go back? only if he was paid an exorbitant amount and allowed to fuck shit up. 

03. Describe your character’s relationship with those who raised them. Was it positive? Negative? Neutral? What sorts of ideologies were they raised with, and do they still stand by them now?

sehrin was raised by petty thieves and pickpockets who lived on the lower, unsavory parts of zeltros. opposite the higher pleasure levels of zeltros, the lower parts are less concerned about the intoxication of emotions and more concerned with using those emotions.  his actual parents gave into the revelry and simply never came home one day. the thieves broke into the small quarters and found sehrin sitting on the floor. brakhin and sha’bi ( both aliases that sehrin uses ) more or less took him in as his official parents but those who raised him were the small criminals of the underground. sehrin learned how to pickpocket at a young age, petty thievery into scamming, into learning how to manipulate emotions or use pheromones to sway a crowd.  sehrin had a rough childhood, the criminal underworld is not kind to its children. he quickly learned how to turn it around so he was the ones calling the shots. he still uses a lot of what he learned, how to turn a bad situation into something that works for him but there is no love lost between those sehrin left behind when he left zeltros. 

04. What is your character’s relationship with the Force? Is your character Force-sensitive? Whether or not they are, do they believe in it? Do they lean more towards the dark or the light or are they somewhere in between?

eh, sehrin is not that sensitive to it. he doesn’t not believe in it but he also think it’s just a joke. you can’t sell it, you can’t steal it, it’s not something that has value to him. it’s superstition and while sehrin loves to mess with the superstitious because if they’re gullible enough to buy that — they’ll buy anything, he doesn’t see why one would wage a whole war in the name of it.  he would probably muddle up in the middle because he’s got a business to run and while he’s not a bad person, he’s not entirely decent. 

05. What three word would you use to describe your character? What three words would your character use to describe themself? What three words would someone close to them use?

pink idiot hoe

charismatic powerful leader, dashing heroic prince(ss), mouth-wateringly beautiful seductress. ( with sparkles probably as he winks, where the fuck did the glitter come from ) 

“what the fuck” 

06. Describe your character’s aesthetic. Do they tend towards fashion or function? Do they like to accessorize? How does this extend into their own personal spaces, such as their home or their workspace?

zeltron are noted for their revealing, provoking clothing. skin tight, short cuts, leaving hardly anything to the imagination while adorned in jewels, make up, and anything that galaxy would call beautiful or expensive. sehrin might have left zeltros behind but that doesn’t mean he stopped being zeltron.  however, he prefers the more traditional zeltron clothing — those worn in theatre, opera, or for traditional celebrations or ceremonies. loose, very sheer fabric that drapes and flows. flowing sleeves or sheer robes, he likes ruffles and lace. that said, he also loves he reveals a lot of skin with low cut outfits or simply not wearing anything at all. jewelry tends to be more of an afterthought, he wears it but they’re usually small pieces. a single necklace, a few bracelets, the occasional ring. sehrin feels like his biggest asset is his body and he shows it off in the ways he knows he looks good — he’s immediately pegged with that soft, pastel pink skin and all that comes with it. sehrin plays into that especially when he knows it’ll get him somewhere.  his hair is naturally magenta but he dyes it black and wears it long with beads, braids, feathers, little coins all woven into it. this is pretty much all the ornamentation he gets into. he loves make up, glitter, although left to his own devices, sehrin will dress up and float around in whatever he finds. he likes costuming, he loves dressing up and he absolutely will throw on a full face of make up and a dress just because he wants to but, in his own little world, he tends to keep it tame. ( well, as tame as sehrin is which can still be pretty wild. as in naked. )  i’m pretty sure what i’m saying is that his aesthetic is sexy space pirate who stars in an opera. he absolutely has a big hat somewhere.  his workspace, however, has very little room for error. everything is packed and logged and sealed away as efficiently and as orderly as possible. he refuses to have chaos when he’s dealing with work because that’s when people believe they can get in and start messing around. sehrin likes to have fun, he loves a good party, but business and business and he will not have someone coming in and fucking things up. however, his living space roughly resembles a dressing room with a cigarette still smoldering in the ashtray, costumes thrown about on the bed and mirror and floor, make up and glitter spilling out of containers and onto countertops. there’s jewelry spread about, the bed probably still has someone sleeping in it. it smells like vanilla, heavy perfume, and smoke. 

07. What are your character’s vices? Guilty pleasures? Bad habits? Weak spots?

sehrin wouldn’t call them vices. they’re more ... adventures simply waiting to be had. 

zeltrons come with a certain reputation and he absolutely uses that in order to get something. aside from that, one thing that is overlooked is zeltrons also have a limited telepathy control over both their emotions and the emotions around them. sehrin can both inflame, dampen, or simply bombard with emotions until things begin to happen his way. he can also read them which can be very useful in finding the right target. he doesn’t hesitate to use it. he also has very powerful pheromones that can be used to sway someone to his suggestions. 

he is very indulgent about life’s pleasures �� “darling, just because i would rather see zeltros burn in a fiery cataclysm of doom doesn’t mean that i disagree with them. oh no! we have the better taste in pretty much everything.” he will spend more money on something simply because it is expensive. he spends money that isn’t his. he will absolutely run through your savings and then some. if you say something along the lines of “i’ll be the one to satisfy you” then he will very much test that. 

08. Tell us about your character’s relationship with food. What are their favorites? Do they enjoy cooking? Are they adventurous? Will they eat absolutely anything or are they hard to please?

sehrin might enjoy the expensive things in life but he’s never really been too picky with his food. when you’re running through space with no depot, planet, or station near buy and supplies start running low — you make do with what you’ve got. he certainly enjoys expensive foods and will never say no to them.  he loves to experiment in the kitchen and try out new things with mixed results. he knows to how to make ship stew ( which is basically a stew with all the leftover food you have no idea what to do with ) and it’s ... decent but he isn’t that great at anything more complex than that. he, however, disagrees! 

09. How does your character feel about engaging in relationships—romantic and / or sexual—with others? What is their history like? Do they fall in love easily? Are they constantly in and out of relationships?

oh boy. sehrin likes sex — like, he really does. it’s an information tool which he absolutely utilizes but also just a way to be with someone. zeltros thrived on sexuality, on pleasure seeking, on living your life to the fullest because we’re all just hurdling through space with no rhyme or reason — sehrin mostly agrees with that. he was taught that you can have absolutely anyone if you played your cards right.  he uses sex for information, he can manipulate emotions and give off heady pheromones that can sway thought and he has a reputation to keep up. people say the darnedest things while they’re in bed, thinking they’re safe from the world outside. sehrin listens, he learns, he adapts.  sex, however, is still something he sees as an intimate thing. a romantic at his core, sehrin almost wishes that someone would come and sweep him off his feet and carry him off into the sunset. almost. i wouldn’t say that he’s in and out of relationships, he starts them and then lets them continue on until the other is done.  

10. What is your character’s pain tolerance like? Can they hold their own in a fight, despite injury? If someone hurts them with the aim of gaining information, how much can they take before they cave?

“whoa! whoa, whoa — hold on. darling, you really don’t need all those. i’ll tell you what you want to know ... just take off the cuffs and we can have a lovely little chat. oh, unless this turns you on? is that what you like, darling?”   he actually has a pretty low pain tolerance. his confidence level, however, balances that out. and most of the time he can sleaze his way out of situations before he is actually hurt. he can hold his own in a fight generally but he’s not exactly going to win anything. physical strength isn’t his strong suit.  he absolutely will cave the second he is threatened. although, he’ll set a price for his information. 

11. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they more skilled as a melee fighter or do they have more skill with ranged weapons? What’s their fighting style like? What sort of training do they have behind them?

he carries two blasters on him pretty much all the time along with various knives tucked about on his person. he doesn’t like fighting and he prefers to stay out of it as much as he can. he’ll absolutely turn around and run if that’s going to keep him alive. he’s very survival driven and that can often be read as cowardly but he would simply say, “oh no, darling, not at all. i’m living another day while you’re rotting in the ground. from where i’m standing, that’s the better deal.”  he can fight, he’s just not that great at it. he fights dirty because that was what you did on the streets. he quickly learned that fighting isn’t going to get him want he wants. he would rather just slide into your lap and play with your hair and flirt a bit.

12. Does your character have any words or catchphrases that they say frequently? Tell us about how they picked them up.

“oh, darling!” sweet names are pretty common on zeltros and people usually respond nicely when it feels like you’re sweet on them. 

13. Tell us about a negative experience your character has had with either the Jedi or the Sith, and how this has affected their standing. Whether currently aligned or unaligned with either faction, if forced to choose, how would they side?

he really doesn’t have too much experience with either. he’s smuggled weapons to the sith before but there’s been very little interaction with the jedi. the sith he would describe as being harsh and stingy on their payment but he did get paid. that’s really all he knows about them and all he really cares to know. the jedi don’t interest him at all. “oh — forced? darling, i don’t like the sound of that. but, gun to my head, hm ... oh, i don’t know ... whoever pays better?” 

14. How would your character react to seeing a relative or friend on the opposing side of a battle or mission?

if it’s someone that he cares about, he would be upset. but he would quickly try to figure out how to turn it around and make it into an advantage. he would pretend that it didn’t hurt and simply just keep doing what he’s doing.  “... i see. well. i can’t say i’m surprised. never trust anyone who can’t properly get you off.” 

15. Describe a memory that your character finds embarrassing.

there isn’t much that embarrasses sehrin. he will probably do anything at least once and he’s learned that living a life filled with regret just isn’t really his jam. he prefers the adventure and if that means laughing at himself as he does ridiculous things — so be it.  now, others getting caught with sehrin in embarrassing situations for them? absolutely has happened. 

16. What goals does your character hold for themself and what steps have they taken towards achieving them? How far are they willing to go to reach them? What is their be-all and end-all?

sehrin really isn’t goal-oriented. he’s reward-oriented! the goal is and has always been success — be that rising above the petty criminal rings on zeltros or getting recognition from the exchange or simply getting what he wants.  somewhere deep, however, deep beneath all his glitter and glam and operatic behavior — sehrin really just wants something or someone to call home. he’s never truly experienced a home, not a loving one at least. he wants that but at the same time, he doesn’t know if that’s something he’ll ever find. 

17. What is the one thing your character would change about their life if they were given the chance? What other lives could they have lived as a result?

he would probably still be on zeltros, raised on the revelry. he wouldn’t change anything — he would probably still end up where he right now. 

18. Living in such a high-conflict time, how does your character feel about doing what they must to survive? Will they hurt or kill others—either directly or indirectly—to protect themself and / or those close to them? If so, do they regret it when all is said and done?

sehrin will do what sehrin does best, smuggle goods behind enemy lines and learn how to bend the war around him. he will find the winning side and when it’s convenient, he will help out. he will kill others to protect himself, he’s done it before and he’ll most likely do it again. once, however, he becomes attached to others and has adopted them into the fold — he will absolutely crush a man’s tracheae for them.  he doesn’t regret it, people die and people live and other people make profit off the both of them. he plans to be that third party. 

19. What is the biggest problem your character is currently dealing with?

getting paid on time. also finding and meeting trustworthy folk who won’t totally stab him in the back, he’s fine with minor backstabbing but there is a limit to how much backstabbery one can take. 

20. Give us 3+ headcanons of any length or subject matter.

loves opera. he learned about opera from a young age and would just get caught up in the story, the music, completely swept away by dashing heroes and tragic heroines and their epic stories. zeltros does not have a very big opera scene — opera often incorporates tragedies and zeltrons hate anything that deals with negative emotions — and he had to get his fix elsewhere. he has a really large collection of them and he will stop at planets that have reputed opera houses just to watch them. he actually has a really nice voice! and he will reenact scenes and parts whenever he’s just really feeling it. he gets into it and he has a lovely singing voice! 

he has a few tattoos he’s gathered from across the galaxy. around both his wrists are lace cuffs. several electro-tattoos as well, poorly done and the information has been hijacked after many years. scanned, they tell a very long story about a man and his adventures with his large penis. the true information was for the smuggling rings back on zeltros but he has no use for anymore. he also has a few unconnected constellations which he can brush off as freckles. they’re special to him and he doesn’t want just anyone knowing what they are. 

his agility stat is 69 so do with that what you will. 

bonus. Give us a list of any length telling us why our “fave is problematic.”

britney spears circus.mp3

chel voice: well that’s what makes it interesting

is basically chel from el dorado 

advanced student of the bend and snap technique 

he really is basically this video. 

“oh darling i do hope that isn’t another blaster in your pocket — because you look as happy to see me as i am happy to see you.” 

wink wonk

personal space???? not on this ship

“oh yes darling i heard you” he did not hear you 

“i prefer the term ... adventure capitalist” 

walks around naked just to see ur reaction 

sits in your lap like nbd but cld also pick you up and carry u away

reckless driver

lowkey has a thing for bounty hunters ... “oh i don’t know darling they’e dashing! what can i say, i’m a girl with unexplained and specific tastes.” 

wonder woman voice: a bAbY !!!!!! 

[abalonetea]

Ok, first, let me just say WOW because you have the coolest page and I love the theme. This is.... so cool.Ok, but yes, back to the question. I was asking about horses because, yeah, I ride occasionally, but I don't really know cool horse terms. Trying to write about them and didn't know if there's good lingo for such. Or like, long term traveling no-no's. Obviously food, water, and distance, but if there were other tricks of the trade. Have any pointers?

thank you!! i’m absolutely in love with the lay-out of it, and how the theme ended up looking! i wanted something new and figured, hey, why not fully embrace the video game aspect of my wip? c:

i’m always down for horse chatter, no matter what it’s about! i’ve been working on horse farms since i was nine - which sounds strange to say, i realize, but i used to do farm work in exchange for lessons, and then it just evolved to paid farm work, haha. so, yeah, knowing how amazing your writing always is, the thought of you doing some horse related scenes just makes me incredibly happy and excited?

for long term traveling inspiration, i would check out endurance rides! it used to be primarily dominated by Arabians and half-Arabian breeds, but a larger variety becomes prominent in the circuit every year. we’ve had Morgan’s and quarter horses win the Nationals before and everything.

outside of food, water, and distance, some of the biggest things that i see forgotten about (but might not be relevant to your writing!) would be the soundness of a horse, and whether they’re still being groomed. and all this rambling is just! me guessing at the setting and situation! so it may or may not be helpful but - well, i like rambling about horses, so i hope you don’t mind! i’m mostly going under the assumption that by long distance you mean cross country, or something close to that, spanning several days or at least a week’s worth of riding. c:

depending on the setting, the thought of grooming a horse during a long distance travel might come across as strange. but if the same sweaty blanket, cushion, or saddle pad is left on the horse’s back for an extended amount of time, the sweat and the friction can rub sores - which then make the horse irate, and sometimes can even result, depending on the temperament of the horse, in being bucked off. 

solution for a desperate time - hop off, undo the girth on one side, slide the saddle back onto the haunches or up onto the neck (if a well trained horse, otherwise if the horse is young or antsy, the saddle may need to come off completely) and take a dry rag to the coat. if a hard brush or curry is available and time allows, a quick rub down wouldn’t hurt, but a dry rag will work if time and supplies are limited.

then flip the pad over, so the dry side is against the horse and tack back up. if time is extra limited, just flip over the saddle pad and skip the rag.

the other big thing is that a horse can easily injure itself on a trail. i love them, but half the time i feel like horses are held together by used chewing gum and some old string? so even if your horse doesn’t actually injure itself during the story, it might be something to keep in mind. they can pull leg muscles, bruise their frog, damage their hoof, and even cut their coronary band if the foliage is particularly thick and thorny!

so if you’re looking for extra drama, just nudge the horse into a situation that will leave it lame for a little bit, haha!

and some of favorite horse things that i love to include when writing about horses!

*when you’ve been riding for a really long time and your back is starting to hurt so you lean forward, draping yourself over the horse’s neck and it’s sweaty and dirty but the smell of horse is a comfort so you both just stand their silently for a few moments

*after a really hard ride but you can’t get off just yet so you do stretches in the saddle, like bending backwards so your shoulders are on the rump of the horse, and bending your legs in weird ways because they’re cramped

*a horse that’s too scared to walk through tall grass on its own but trusts you so much that as long as you walk in front of it, he’ll follow behind you

*horses playing with each other! halter tag, anyone?

*the specific sound of horse hooves hitting the ground, especially when it’s hard packed earth, especially if there are a lot of them

*hot horse breath on your hand when you give the horse a treat or hold up a bucket of water for them to drink out of

*that one horse who fills its mouth up with water and then purposefully dumps it on the rider’s shoulder

*the sheer exhilaration that comes from galloping a horse through a wide, open expanse where there’s nothing keeping you confined and the wind is cutting against your face and your heart is pounding and it’s like the both of you are the same being

*if you’re going long distance and are able to plan ahead of time, the pack you bring needs more than just food for the horse. pack smart and light! hay string is invaluable. so is vet-wrap (or an ace bandage swiped from the med bay) and duck tape. those three things can fix nearly any problem that occurs during your travels.

some facts from my personal life experience!

*did you know that you can fix a horse’s injured hoof with a preemie diaper and some duck tape

*did you know that you can fix their knee the same way

*did you know that you can make a sweat wrap for a horse’s swollen leg using clingwrap

*braiding a horse’s tail all the way to the tip is actually really ineffective for a horse that’s outside for any length of time. if you braid it down halfway, they still have the loose hair at the bottom to use as a fly swatter!

*horse bites are incredibly painful and not just when they nip your hand. i still have scars and tissue damage from being bit on the shoulder and thrown across the ten foot stall by a horse that was in pain and lashing out at me. it turned into a massive hematoma and i couldn’t lift my arm up past my breasts for almost three months

*getting kicked by a horse is incredibly painful but certainly not a death sentence and might not even leave you out of the field for a long time. i was double barreled out in the field one day, got the stitches put into my chin, had x-rays taken, and then went to finish my day’s worth of work. 

*that being said it absolutely can be really awful. my first trainer was thrown by a horse and landed the wrong way, so it completely shattered her arm and she ended up needing five surgeries. my second trainer was kicked in the face by a horse and it ended up breaking off parts of her teeth.

*night riding is asking for trouble, because the eyes of a horse have a hard time distinguishing things in heavy shadow. it’s why they tend to freak out over seemingly little things; the cones in their eyes just aren’t meant for distinguishing things in the dark.

*if your horse has never seen a cow or donkey before, it will terrify them. 

*ive never met a horse who didn’t like gatorade and that really has no relevance to anything, and probably is no use to anyone, but it’s still something that i wanted to share! i’ve worked with over 500 separate horses at my various farm jobs, and i’ve never met a single horse that turned down gatorade when i offered it to them

*rice bran tastes like vanilla cookies

*bute powder might smell like fruit loops but it does not taste like fruit loops

*sweet feed is edible for humans but the molasses gives it a very bitter flavor. alternatively, non-sweet feed kind of tastes like you’re eating dry bran cereal

i don’t know if any of this is even slightly useful to you, but it sure was fun to write up! and i am always up for talking about horses or answering any questions that you (or anyone else) might have! i’ve basically worked in every aspect of the horse industry at some point or another, and while i’m not a specialist by any means, i am most certainly a jack of all trades when it comes to farm work, barn work, and horse work

[ruthandliamgoplaces]

Travelling is not all rainbows and unicorns

The past few days have been spent participating in a local festival, buying lots of stuff and travelling to the start of the Annapurna Circuit. A few tales!

Holi Festival

Holi Festival is a Hindu/Indian festival that celebrates the start of spring - the visible way to mark the festival is by throwing colourful paint and water over everyone. We were told by our guesthouse owner to wear something we didn’t mind ruining, and to put all electronics inside watertight bags. We thought we had been well prepared by buying white Holi t-shirts, but actually this had the adverse affect of making us open targets.

The main demographic of people who participated in the paint throwing and soaking festivities appeared to be young boys, groups of teenagers of both genders, and young men. The three groups had three distinct methods.

The young boys waited in the networks of alleyways and when you were trapped, you would face a barrage of water bombs with the aim and velocity that would shame a professional cricket team.

Out in the streets, you would be enveloped by gangs of smiling assassin teenagers all keen to smear paint on both your cheeks, hair, and if they were feeling suitably cheeky, your body. Being someone who has issues with personal space, having a constant stream of Nepali teenagers rubbing their hands all over me left me wrestling with horror.

Worst of all, was the young men, who would sit high in the buildings and then throw vats of water on your head from height.

In theory, and if you were of a certain temperament, I suspect it could be quite exciting and fun to be covered in paint and water. My reality- was that it turned Kathmandu into a real live Call of Duty game. The most fun target for all was the tourists. Especially those wearing white Holi t-shirts.

Liam and I initially embraced it, although afterwards agreed neither of us particularly enjoyed it. After a while, it was tiring. We turned blind corners in alleyways with anticipation of being pelted, or chased by small boys. We avoided shoals of teenagers, and stepped round water tipping zones by avoiding wet patches on the floor.

I know I sound like a grumpy old woman, but I suspect no one likes to feel like a helpless foreign target. The Nepali newspapers seemed to concord with my feeling of trepidation as the local news articles on Holi included a warning that it counted as assault to touch someone without their permission. Police were driving around, making sure that only those who wanted to be were soaked or painted.... the tourists who didn’t wear Holi t-shirts were mostly unscathed... so we were probably a bit stupid!

Also in the article, there was a comment about how the festival article had lost its religious meaning. Instead, it had become only about throwing paint on each other, and engaging in raucous street festivities. The quiet family times have been replaced by partying. Liam and I got into judgey tourist mode and questioned to what extent this was being influenced by tourism. Many of the tourist areas were capitisiling on the festival by having boozy parties. Backpackers were walking around with beers in their hands- no locals were. Yet.

All that being said- I am glad I took part. There was a lot of positivity and smiles and I felt that the paint and water attacks were well intentioned. Me not enjoying it probably says more about me and my personal space issues than the festival!

Buses and bartering

The day after we took two buses to get from Kathmandu to Besisahar, the start of the Annapurna Circuit walk. We learnt that the bus drivers like to put tourists and questionable locals on the back seats, because they are worst being the hottest and bounciest. Liam and I shared the back row with three very drunk Nepalese men, who spent the time waiting for the bus to start arguing with other bus passengers, arguing with each other and trying to communicate with us by slurring Nepalese (god knows what) at us. Other bus passengers found this very amusing. When the bus started, they fell asleep, one with his head on Liam’s shoulder, generously sharing his sweat and dribble.

I was envious of their tactics of a drunken coma though because the buses were so bouncy on the pot holed dirt roads, that I was regularly thrown clear from the seat. Our fit-bits went into melt down- thinking we had done 40,000 steps when really we did nothing other than providing pillows and entertainment for the locals. We couldn’t even play our plague game as the bus bounced so much we couldn’t focus on the screen.

On the bus, we learnt more of the Nepali driving custom, including the special advanced bus skills of overtaking other buses going seemingly the same speed, on blind corners, with huge sheer cliff drops on one side. The trick here seems to be just to beep your horn a lot as you do so, with an advanced dose of the previously mentioned skill of assuming that you will never crash.

We also learnt that a bus is never full. There is always room even if you sit on someone else’s knee. Kind of like UK trains in rush hour. Oh, and tourists are charged four times the amount for the same seat. Which, other than also being given the worst seats, we really don’t mind. And that’s a problem generally... Liam and I both lack the assertiveness for the Nepali custom of haggling. As well as being targets for Holi Festival, we are primed for being charged way more than we should be, and often politely thank people who have just mildly exploited us. Despite repeatedly making earnest pacts after these occasions to try and haggle, we have epically failed and now admit surrender. It’s so cheap anyway, we have decided that £1 here or there is a small price to pay compared to the personal costs of challenging our combined (high) social anxiety.

Himalayan Breaking Bad

Seven hours of bone rattling bus experience later, we arrived at a town which is the start of the Annapurna Circuit, and attempted to pack our bags for the trek in our hotel room. Of course, we realised that we have way too much stuff, we don’t need it all and we can’t carry it. Most people hire porters to carry their bags round the trail, but we love being independent. The locals think this strange and we were called “typical English” to not accept help- I have no idea what this means - and it made me feel like I voted Brexit.

Fortunately, we asked the help of the Air B&B owner who we stayed with in Kathmandu, and have arranged a driver to take our surplus 8kg bag to the end of the trail, leaving us with a meagre 25kg between us to carry the 130 miles.

The B&B owner looks very much like and has all the calm, helpful, all powerful mannerisms as Gus from Breaking Bad. His efficient use of local networks to help us has heightened my suspicions. Happily for us, the mere use of his name seemed to immediately resolve our luggage crisis, with a hotel owner in a town 60km away being happy to receive and look after our random bag until an unspecified date in April (no fear of terrorism here). Fingers crossed we get it back, will be an interesting feeling handing it to a random driver tomorrow!

So, that’s us for now! Its been an exhausting couple of days filled with cultural experiences and challenges... but we are happy and full of Nepali Beer, and grateful to Himalayan Gus, and all of the Nepali people today who helped us get here, fed us, drove us, housed us, and despite our fears at times, didn’t try to attacks us or rip us off more than we deserved! Liam has had to add a new column on our budget spreadsheet called ‘stupidity’ and we have accepted a 10% surcharge on our trip for lack of bartering skills!

Tomorrow- we begin the trail!

[banshee-cheekbones]

kinktober day 9 - frottage

title: care for you (could be a good excuse) [ao3: here]

fandom: Shadowhunters (TV)

main pairing: Jace/Simon

rating: T, for drinking and non-explicit sexual content.

word count: ~1300 words

written for: kinktober 2017, using the prompt ‘frottage,’ and for inktober for writers 2017, using the prompt ‘strings’  

short summary/tags: A chronicle of the various excuses Jace comes up with to explain why he keeps sleeping with Simon.

Spoiler alert: he runs out of good ones quite quickly. 

Tags: human au, college/university au, drunk sex, getting together, 5 things, happy ending.

The first time it happens, Jace has an irrefutable excuse when the morning after comes around.

Said excuse has more than a little to do with the hangover pounding at his temples and unsettling his stomach, the first one he’s had in years.

&.

The Hunter’s Moon is packed with people from wall to wall, crowded around the pool tables two deep, pressed up against the bar, arms waving in the air for service. It’s somebody’s birthday-

(whose birthday, Jace doesn’t exactly remember, even before he starts drinking)

-and the air is buzzing with celebration. Every so often, the room fills with raucous cheers as somebody offers to buy a round of shots for the entire bar, and the mood is just so damn festive that it’s hard to keep from being swept away on it like a wave at the beach.

So Jace doesn’t resist.

When the free rounds of shots are announced, he indulges gratefully, whenever he can shoulder his way up to the bar. Every so often, one of his friends passes by and shoves another drink into his hands, and who is he to say no?

By the time he realizes that he’s unsteady on his feet, he’s lost count of how many drinks he’s had, but he knows that he only paid for four of them.

He drifts through the crowd when he can, but it’s easier said than done; the sheer amount of people packed into the bar has to violate the fire code. Eventually, buffeted along by the tide, he ends up in the corner of the bar furthest from the front door, crowded into a booth with eight other people. He doesn’t know either of the girls sitting between him and the wall, both of whom seem to have a strong case of the giggles.

But on his other side, pressed right against him and still almost falling off the seat, one arm slung around the top of the booth that keeps falling down to drape across Jace’s shoulders, is Simon.

Simon from his Introductory Film Studies class, the one Jace had taken because nothing else fit into his schedule with his fourth year history and psychology classes.

Simon, who talks too much in class, who would probably teach the class if he could get away with it.

Simon, who actually does his share of the work (and more, sometimes) when they’ve been thrown together for group projects.

Simon, who not only smells good but also looks good in dark jeans and a deep blue button-up over a black t-shirt, dark hair slicked away from his forehead, glasses slipping down his nose, smile bright enough to light up a whole damn city, just as drunk as Jace.

In retrospect, frankly, Jace is surprised that they didn’t end up in the alley out back sooner, mere inches away from a fetid dumpster, clumsily frotting against each other until they both come in their pants like teenagers having their first time.

How he gets home is a little bit of a blur, but when he awakens the next morning, his memory of what happened is all too clear.

He blames it on the booze and doesn’t bother to send Simon a text about the subject.

He doesn’t get one in return.

When Simon comes to class on Monday, he takes a seat two spots away from Jace, talks just as much as normal, and when they are told to get into groups to discuss the film they were supposed to watch over the weekend, he slides over and immediately starts giving Jace his opinion.

But he doesn’t bring up the alley, and neither does Jace.

&.

The second time it happens, he has a different excuse.

Unfortunately, this one has far less to do with alcohol and festivities.

&.

It’s a Friday night, and he has his shared suite in the upper-years residence to himself, roommate back home visiting their parents for the weekend. He has a textbook spread across his lap and his phone resting in his hand, displaying a message from Izzy that’s so long Jace has to scroll to read the entire thing.

Despite the length, the message can really be summed up in the first sentence.

Dad had an affair, and Mom is filing for divorce.

He reads the message over and over again, tries to think of how to respond, and eventually gives up in favor of tossing the phone across the room, where it thankfully lands in his laundry basket. His parents have never had a perfect relationship, spent so much time arguing that Jace learned long ago to simply tune it out, but an affair?

He should call Alec or Izzy. Maybe even his mom, see how she’s doing, if there’s anything he can do to help her. Any of those options would be the right thing to do.

And he will do them. Eventually.

But first, to keep himself from calling his father and exploding on him, he needs a distraction.

He’s just reached for his gym bag when there’s a knock on the door.

Simon is standing on the other side, rubbing at the back of his neck, holding his tablet in his hand.

“Hey! Have you had any luck finding a stream for The-”

Jace wraps his fingers into the front of Simon’s obnoxious graphic t-shirt, yanks him in close, and kisses him until he can’t breathe.

When Simon pulls away, cheeks flushed almost comically red, his eyes are owlishly large behind his glasses, and there’s a grin slowly spreading across his face.

“Okay,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Okay, sure. I can work with this.”

With that, Jace tugs him into his room and kicks the door shut.

Monday dawns bright and sunny, but fall is unmistakably on the way, present in the orange leaves falling from the trees dotting the campus and the brisk wind that keeps finding its way through Jace’s layers as he walks to class.

This time, Simon takes the seat right next to him.

But they don’t talk about it.

&.

The third time it happens, Simon’s hands are Jace’s excuse.

&.

He walks into the Hunter’s Moon on a Thursday night, which happens to be Open Mic night, apparently. Simon is onstage, perched on a stool, strumming an acoustic guitar. After making a few adjustments to the tuning pegs, he waves to the group of people clustered around the stage at the back of the bar, and launches into a song. His voice is clear and confident, fills the room from wall to wall, and his long fingers move effortlessly along the strings, forming chords and picking out notes effortlessly. It seems to be a song of his own creation, so Jace doesn’t know if Simon makes any mistakes, but he certainly doesn’t make any obvious ones, doesn’t fumble with his hand placement or stutter.

Such talent deserves to be appreciated, and that’s the only reason Jace offers to walk Simon home once the show is over.

Really. That’s the only reason.

(They end up making out against the wall just inside the door of Simon’s tiny apartment, jackets shrugged to the floor even though there are coat hooks mere inches away.

“One of these days, I’m going to get you into my bed,” Simon gasps against Jace’s mouth, just as he pops open the button on Jace’s pants.

Jace doesn’t bother to rebut him.)

&.

As for the fourth time...

Well, Jace has an excuse.

Really. He does.

A damn good excuse.

He just can’t quite remember what it is.

(He blames that on how absurdly talented Simon’s mouth is.)

&.

By the fifteenth time, the only excuse Jace has left is that he likes Simon. Really likes him, even if he does talk too much in class, even if his opinions on the movies they watch in class are always the total opposite of Jace’s, even if he has a penchant for kicking Jace hard in his sleep.

And Jace is...

Well. Jace is actually completely fine with that particular excuse.

[andavs]

Another from this long list of prompts, completely unprompted.

Number Ten: “If you use up all the hot water again, I swear to god! You’re on the couch for a month!!”

Stiles needed to take a good long look at his life, he decided as he dug the emergency plastic seat covers out of the trunk of the Camaro.

Reason number one: he and all of his friends kept emergency plastic seat covers in their trunks so in the event of a big bad monster exploding all over them, they wouldn’t have to explain massive blood stains to the guy at the auto detailing shop.

Again.

They only made that mistake once, and Lydia spent the night in jail three counties over.

Stiles shook out the plastic with a spiteful flourish at the universe, and laid it out over the leather passenger seat, while Derek did the same for the driver’s before sliding in.

Stiles hesitated, bracing himself.

Reason number two: Stiles was far too young to always be this sore.

He groaned as he lowered himself into the car and the plastic crinkled underneath him. His knee was messed up, he knew that much without professional opinion, but he was going to hold off on an official diagnosis unless it got to the point where he couldn’t walk on it. And he was pretty sure that none of the blood soaking his khakis was actually his, so compared to the last few big faceoffs, he was doing pretty well.

But it was the soreness, the constant aches when he got up in the morning—his shoulder actually ached with the weather. His grandfather had that problem, and even his dad didn’t have as many back problems.

Stiles was twenty-eight and there were days when a bad enough thunderstorm rolled through, and all he could do was lie on the couch and pop Tylenol like candy.

At this rate he’d be using a cane at thirty.

He yawned as Derek put the car in gear and drove towards home, letting himself drift off.

Reason number three: he was always, always exhausted.

As far as he coworkers knew, the only exercise Stiles ever got was pickup games of lacrosse in the park, so when he came in with an arm in a sling, they laughed at his clumsiness. When he ended up in the hospital from another “car accident”, they laughed at his bad luck.

Classic Stilinski.

But the exhaustion, the almost daily cat naps on his desk—that was harder to explain away.

The proper response to “go to bed earlier” was definitely not, “can’t, there’s a full moon tonight.”

When Glen laughed and said, “just don’t go out with people,” he couldn’t say, “they will literally die if I’m not there with mountain ash.”

If he came in looking hungover, and that was what people assumed, he wasn’t about to correct them with the truth of getting infected by a mildly toxic spore that made everything hurt and left all of his senses fried and oversensitive.

Basically, the entire office thought he was living life like a frat bro college student and he didn’t have a decent lie to replace that perception. The only upside was that his boss found it weirdly endearing that he took naps on his desk and didn’t try to make him stop or threaten to fire him for it.

(He had a sneaking suspicion there was an Instagram full of pictures of him sleeping at work and the entire office was following it, but he hadn’t been able to find it and if there wasn’t one, he didn’t want to give them any ideas by asking.)

It was after midnight when the Camaro finally pulled into the parking lot of their building. Another long late night, another 10am desk nap in the morning.

Another Instagram post.

They trudged/limped up the stairs to their fourth floor apartment in silence (reason number three-point-five: the stairs), locked the door behind them, and quietly started to strip off their filthy, stained clothes. Stiles gathered them up while Derek put away their wallets and keys, and headed into the kitchen. He pulled the trash out from under the sink, and as if Derek read his mind, he called,

“Throw them out, I’m not even trying.”

There was no saving them.

Reason number four: their astronomical clothing budget.

The sheer amount of clothing they’d thrown out in just the last year alone was astounding. Stiles had just stopped getting attached to anything he owned, because even if he tried to plan it out, kept spare clothes in his trunk, there was always some stupid emergency popping up when he was wearing his favorite shirt. When the Creature from the Black Lagoon was dragging Scott back into its lair, there was no time for a wardrobe change.

Derek had it easy. He’d always opted for grabbing a five pack of generic henleys, he didn’t like logos or jokes on his shirts.

Stiles, on the other hand, had gone through eight Batman shirts in three years.

He stripped off his pants and tossed them in too.

The shower turned on, and Stiles realized he’d missed his chance to go first.

Motherfucker.

“Hey! If you use up all the hot water again, I swear to god, you’re on the couch for a month!” Stiles called, knowing Derek could hear him over the running water, and Derek yelled back,

“Just shower with me!”

Stiles stared out the kitchen window for a second, debating.

Reason number five: their shower.

Derek owned their building so at least they didn’t have to explain the constant clogs to a landlord, but god, their poor shower. There was no telling what kind of bits and pieces went down that drain, probably straight up body parts, and the drain certainly made its displeasure known. They were single-handedly paying for their plumber’s daughter’s private school education with his near monthly visits. If they didn’t call, he called to check up on them.

Whatever, they were due for a declogging anyway.

He tossed his underwear in the trash for good measure, and padded down the hall to the bathroom, trying not to touch anything on the way.

They showered in silence, washing away grime and…fluids and shampooing each other’s hair, trying to avoid shallow cuts with the soap and failing, trading spaces under the steady stream of water until it started getting cold.

It was their drain’s personal form of revenge, since Derek had recently updated the water heater for the entire building and no other tenants had reported this issue. Because of course their drain was some level of sentient.

Of course.

They dressed quietly, Derek wrapped up Stiles’ knee and got some ice, and they finally settled in bed. For all the crap their lives threw at them, for all the total and complete bullshit they’d gone through in the last ten years, this—climbing into bed with Derek and feeling his warm arms around him—this made it worth it.

Stiles adjusted the bag of ice on his knee and stretched it out carefully, groaning at the pull in his muscles. That was definitely going to bruise, and it would be impressive.

“Need a drain?” Derek murmured, already half asleep, but holding up his hand, ready to help.

Stiles shook his head and snuggled back into his pillows. “Save that for tomorrow when the pain really kicks in.”

Derek put his arm down, patting around the bed until he found Stiles’ hand to hold loosely. They were both too tired and sore to do anything more than thread their fingers together and lay there.

Reason number six: Stiles would really like to be able to do more than lie on each other in a sore and exhausted silence. The nights they had energy to do more than fall asleep mid-lazy kiss were depressingly few and far between.

What he wouldn’t give for a regular and frequent sex life that didn’t involve maneuvering around a busted knee again.

Derek tapped his thumb against Stiles’. “Rethinking your life again?”

Stiles nodded against his shoulder.

“What’s the verdict this time?”

Stiles wiggled in a little closer and sighed, closing his eyes. “We’re doing just fine.”

[sleepadvisor]

Is it Good to Sleep With Your K-9 in Bed at Night?

The APPA (American Pet Products Association) recently published a study revealing that at least 50% of pet owners allow their animals to sleep with them. This is especially true for canine lovers. Sleeping with your dog is obviously something that lots of you prefer.

It goes without saying that it’s obviously a common practice. But is it good or is it bad? Should you really allow your lovable pet to cuddle with you throughout the night? Are there pros and cons or does it not matter at all?

As it turns out, serious arguments are supporting both sides of the debate. Let’s have a look at the debate and find out what is all the fuss about.

Overview of the Debate – Is It Bad?

Dogs are a man’s best friend, and it makes sense to let them sleep with us as long as they are properly groomed and clean, right? Well, while there are strong points supporting the overall merits of letting your canine partner up with you under the blanket, there are also some reasonable arguments for you to refrain from this practice.

We’ve taken the liberty of examining both the pros and cons, and we’ll let you decide whether or not you should do it. Let’s have a look.

The Benefits of Sleeping With Your Dog

Help Us Relax & Fight Insomnia

There is a reportedly significant amount of people who share that the rhythmic breathing of their dog allows people to go to sleep quicker. This is especially true for people who are fighting sleeping disorders like insomnia.

The presence of your pet would promote a feeling of safety, stress relief, and calmness. In other words, your pet is capable of taking away all of the things which are known for keeping you up at night. This is definitely something worth accounting for. People who sleep with their pets can enjoy a restful night of good sleep, and that’s something that’s been reported over and over again.

They Are Warm

We all love cuddling but the reason for which it feels even more awesome to snuggle up to your dog on a cold winter night is because their body temperature is about 3-6 degrees warmer compared to ours. Or, to word it differently – canines are the highly efficient non-electric blankets that would make you feel warm and comfortable.

This is a major part of your good nights’ sleep. They work like a portable radiator that you can put in your bed. Sure, this could be seen as a drawback in the summer but who doesn’t love a little warmth through the colder and chilly nights?

They Fight Depression

If there is one thing that our canine companions offer without a shred of doubt is unconditional love. For someone who is fighting the terrible symptoms of depression, this connection could feel rather hard to come by.

Receiving it from your pet that’s always there, right by your side, is something that could provide a tremendous feeling of support. This is undoubtedly one of the things that people who are battling depression need more than anything – the constant presence of encouragement, love, and affection. These are all things that our K9s offer in abundance.

Feeling of Safety

Regardless of whether you own a tiny Chihuahua or a larger Labrador, the truth is that the additional presence of something watching over you delivers a comforting feel that makes you feel safe.

Their enhanced hearing and tendency to bark at strangers, or unknown entities are all factors which would make you feel overly safe – this is something that you ought to account for. What is more, the sheer presence of a dog in the house is something that brings additional comfort and feeling of safety. After all, you know that you’re not alone.

Why You Shouldn’t Sleep With Your Dog

They Can Disturb Your Sleep

Just like you have to think about the overnight movements of your partner, you’d have to do so about your dog. They are animals and, as such, they have different sleeping cycles compared to ours. It’s known that they wake up every few hours and even if they don’t jump out of bed, they could disturb your sleep.

This is definitely something that could lead to tiredness and insufficient sleep if it happens every night. Finding the perfect balance is hard, and some people just don’t find it worth the overall effort that is needed.

Allergies & Asthma

Now, you might not be allergic to your canine fellow per say, but keep in mind that every single dog carries allergens. It’s not their fault – it’s just the way things work. Every single time your canine friend gets outside to pee or you take it out for the daily walk, he’s going to be broadly exposed to a range of different allergens, including dust, pollen and worst.

They are going to stick in the dog’s fir and on his paws, and regardless of how good you clean them afterward, you are unlikely to take them all off. This is how they can aggravate certain allergic reactions.

Less Partner Time

That’s just it – when you get your dog used to sleeping with you, it’s rather hard to get alone time with your partner. If you want to enjoy a nice night between the two of you and you close the door, prepare for howling, scratching and barking – your dog needs his sleeping space, and you currently deny it.

This is something that might slide by the first few times, but it definitely gets rather annoying when it happens every night you want to get alone with your partner.

House Training Accidents

Let’s face it – until you get your canine to get used to proper bathroom habits, it’s going to get its business done all over the place. When it sleeps on your bed, and it does the funny business on it, you’d have to steam clean the entire mattress. Believe us when we tell you – that’s not a fun experience.

It’s far easier to throw a rubber mat over its dog bed on the floor and just replace it when you have to. That’s impossible, though, when your dog sleeps with you.

You Can’t Switch Later

It is incredibly hard to get your dog to go back to sleeping on the floor or in a crate once he has had the pleasant taste of the bed.

Ask yourself this, though – can you really blame him? If you’ve had a warm, comfy mattress and a pillow with a blanket the one night and you are thrown on the cold tile or wooden floor the next – wouldn’t you feel upset too?

If you decide to go back to crate training, you should be prepared for a lot of sleepless nights, and you can rest assured that you’ll get a lot of whining about it.

Frequently Asked Questions

Does it mean anything that my dog wants to sleep in my bed?

It means that you’ve created a habit in your dog. It has gotten used to sleeping in the comfort of your bed and, chances are, it’s going to be rather challenging to get him to stop doing it.

It means nothing in particular – you’ve presented your dog with a comfortable alternative and something that he has a true passion for – sleeping with his owner – the one thing that he loves the most.

How can I stop my dog from sleeping with me every night?

The truth is that it would be rather challenging to do so. Going back to crate training suggests that you’d have to spend quite some time getting your dog to get used to a brand new habit.

This is especially true if you’ve never taught him to do so in the first place. Unfortunately, this is not a pleasant experience, and you should be aware of it. It is a challenge that would probably bring you quite a lot of sleepless nights, howling, scratching of doors and crying.

Why does my dog sleep at my feet?

If your dog sleeps on your feet, it suggests that it is submissive. Even though this might not be the best pose for him to sleep in, it suggests that it has a sense of security. Keep in mind that you are considered to be the leader of his pack, and he has a very strong connection to that.

Your canine will become a shadow of you – it would want to follow you anywhere and embark on whatever adventure you do. But when it comes to basic habits, it knows its place. This is the main reason for which, unless otherwise permitted, the dog will sleep at your feet.

What does each sleeping position mean for my pet?

Your dog is a clever companion which could read your sleeping positions easily. If you decide to open yourself in a side sleeping position, allowing your pet to come close, it will do so immediately. It shows him that you want him close.

On the other hand, should you start turning your back or pulling your legs away from it, the dog would likely go and cuddle up at your feet, acquiring a submissive position as he knows he’s not the leader of the pack.

Conclusion

As you can see, it’s primarily a matter of personal preferences and health conditions. If you have no issues allowing your canine sleeping with you on your bed, it could bring certain benefits.

On the other hand, if you know that you have certain health conditions and you wouldn’t want to aggravate them, it would be best not to go down this path. These are the things that you’d want to consider. Always discuss this with your partner as it’s something that’s likely to have an impact on both of your lives.

Sources and References:

Should You Let Your Dog Sleep with You at Night? – healthline.com

Should Pets Be Banished From the Bedroom? – psychologytoday.com

More Reading:

The 6 Highest Rated K9 Crate Pads (Beds) – 2017 Reviews & Ratings

Why is My Dog Restless and Anxious at Night?

Why Does Your Canine Sleep So Much?

The post Is it Good to Sleep With Your K-9 in Bed at Night? appeared first on The Sleep Advisor.

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[readbookywooks]

‘All right, what did you see?’

‘Well, I’m not exactly-’

‘You don’t know, do you?’ snapped Sconner.

‘I saw someth-’

‘You don’t know!’ repeated Sconner, ‘You’re just seeing shadows, just trying to undermine my authority, isn’t that it?’ Sconner hesitated, and his eyes glazed momentarily. ‘I am calm,’ he intoned, ‘I am totally in control. I will not let ‘

‘It was-’

‘Listen, shortarse, you can just jolly well shut up, all right?’

One of the other wizards, who had been staring upwards to conceal his embarrassment, gave a strangled little cough.

‘Er, Sconner-’

‘And that goes for you too!’ Sconner pulled himself to his full, bristling height and flourished the matches.

‘As I was saying,’ he said, ‘I want you to light the matches and -I suppose I’ll have to show you how to light matches, for the benefit of shortarse there-and I’m not out of the window, you know. Good grief. Look at me. You take a match-’

He lit a match, the darkness blossomed into a ball of sulphurous white light, and the Librarian dropped on him like the descent of Man.

They all knew the Librarian, in the same definite but diffused way that people know walls and floors and all the other minor but necessary scenery on the stage of life. If they recall him at all, it was as a sort of gentle mobile sigh, sitting under his desk repairing books, or knuckling his way among the shelves in search of secret smokers. Any wizard unwise enough to hazard a clandestine rollup wouldn’t know anything about it until a soft leathery hand reached up and removed the offending homemade, but the Librarian never made a fuss, he just looked extremely hurt and sorrowful about the whole sad business and then ate it.

Whereas what was now attempting with considerable effort to unscrew Sconner’s head by the ears was a screaming nightmare with its lips curled back to reveal long yellow fangs.

The terrified wizards turned to run and found themselves bumping into bookshelves that had unaccountably blocked the aisles. The smallest wizard yelped and rolled under a table laden with atlases, and lay with his hands over his ears to block out the dreadful sounds as the remaining wizards tried to escape.

Eventually there was nothing but silence, but it was that particularly massive silence created by something moving very stealthily, as it might be, in search of something else. The smallest wizard ate the tip of his hat out of sheer terror.

The silent mover grabbed him by the leg and pulled him gently but firmly out into the open, where he gibbered a bit with his eyes shut and then, when ghastly teeth failed to meet in his throat, ventured a quick glance.

The Librarian picked him up by the scruff of his neck and dangled him reflectively a foot off the ground, just out of reach of a small and elderly wire-haired terrier who was trying to remember how to bite people’s ankles.

‘Er-! said the wizard, and was then thrown in an almost flat trajectory through the broken doorway, where his fall was broken by the floor.

After a while a shadow next to him said, ‘Well, that’s it, then. Anyone seen that daft bastard Sconner?’

And a shadow on the other side of him said, ‘I think my neck’s broken.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘That daft bastard,’ said the shadow, nastily.

‘Oh. Sorry, Sconner.’

Sconner stood up, his whole body now outlined in magical aura. He was trembling with rage as he raised his hands.

‘I’ll show that wretched throwback to respect his evolutionary superiors-’ he snarled.

‘Get him, lads!’

And Sconner was borne to the flagstones again under the weight of all five wizards.

‘Sorry, but-’

‘- you know that if you use-’

`- magic near the Library, with all the magic that’s in there-’

‘- get one thing wrong and it’s a critical Mass and then -’

‘BANG! Goodnight, world!’

Sconner growled. The wizards sitting on him decided that getting up was not the wisest thing they could do at this point.

Eventually he said, ‘Right. You’re right. Thank you. It was wrong of me to lose my temper like that. Clouded my judgement. Essential to be dispassionate. You’re absolutely right. Thank you. Get off.

They risked it. Sconner stood up.

‘That monkey,’ he said, ‘has eaten its last banana. Fetch-’

‘Er. Ape, Sconner,’ said the smallest wizard, unable to stop himself. ‘It’s an ape, you see. Not a monkey…’

He wilted under the stare.

‘Who cares? Ape, monkey, what’s the difference?’ said Sconner. ‘What’s the difference, Mr Zoologist?’

‘I don’t know, Sconner,’ said the wizard meekly. ‘I think it’s a class thing.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Yes, Sconner.’

‘You ghastly little man,’ said Sconner.

He turned and added, in a voice as level as a sawblade: ‘I am perfectly controlled. My mind is as cool as a bald mammoth. My intellect is absolutely in charge. Which one of you sat on my head? No, I must not get angry. I am not angry. I am thinking positively. My faculties are fully engaged - do any of you wish to argue?’

‘No, Sconner,’ they chorused.

‘Then get me a dozen barrels of oil and all the kindling you can find! That ape’s gonna fry!’

From high in the Library roof, home of owls and bats and other things, there was a clink of chain and the sound of glass being broken as respectfully as possible.

‘They don’t look very worried,’ said Nijel, slightly affronted.

‘How can I put this?’ said Rincewind. ‘When they come to write the list of Great Battle Cries of the World, “Erm, excuse me” won’t be one of them.’

He stepped to one side. ‘I’m not with him,’ he said earnestly to a grinning guard. ‘I just met him, somewhere. In a pit.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘This sort of thing happens to me all the time,’ he said.

The guards stared through him.

‘Erm,’ he said.

‘Okay,’ he said.

He sidled back to Nijel.

‘Are you any good with that sword?’

Without taking his eyes off the guards, Nijel fumbled in his pack and handed Rincewind the book.

‘I’ve read the whole of chapter three,’ he said. ‘It’s got illustrations.’

Rincewind turned over the crumpled pages. The book had been used so hard you could have shuffled it, but what was probably once the front cover showed a rather poor woodcut of a muscular man. He had arms like two bags full of footballs, and he was standing kneedeep in languorous women and slaughtered victims with a smug expression on his face.

About him was the legend: Inne Juste 7 Dayes I wille make You a Barbearian Hero! Below it, in a slightly smaller type, was the name: Cohen the Barbarean. Rincewind rather doubted it. He had met Cohen and, while he could read after a fashion, the old boy had never really mastered the pen and still signed his name with an ‘X’, which he usually spelled wrong. On the other hand, he gravitated rapidly to anything with money in it.

Rincewind looked again at the illustration, and then at Nijel.

‘Seven days?’

‘Well, I’m a slow reader.’

‘Ah,’ said Rincewind.

‘And I didn’t bother with chapter six, because I promised my mother I’d stick with just the looting and pillaging, until I find the right girl.’

‘And this book teaches you how to be a hero?’

‘Oh, yes. It’s very good.’ Nijel gave him a worried glance. ‘That’s all right, isn’t it? It cost a lot of money.’

‘Well, er. I suppose you’d better get on with it, then.’

Nijel squared his, for want of a better word, shoulders, and waved his sword again.

‘You four had better just jolly well watch out,’ he said, ‘or … hold on a moment.’ He took the book from Rincewind and riffled through the pages until he found what he was looking for, and continued, ‘Yes, or “the chill winds of fate will blow through your bleached skeletons,’ the legions of Hell will drown your living soul in acid”. There. How dyou like them … excuse me a moment … apples?’

There was a metallic chord as four men drew their swords in perfect harmony.

Nijel’s sword became a blur. It made a complicated figure eight in the air in front of him, spun over his arm, flicked from hand to hand behind his back, seemed to orbit his chest twice, and leapt like a salmon.

One or two of the harem ladies broke into spontaneous applause. Even the guards looked impressed.

‘That’s a Triple Orcthrust with Extra Flip,’ said Nijel proudly. ‘I broke a lot of mirrors learning that. Look, they’re stopping.’

‘They’ve never seen anything like it, I imagine,’ said Rincewind weakly, judging the distance to the doorway.

‘I should think not.’

‘Especially the last bit, where it stuck in the ceiling.’

Nijel looked upwards.

‘Funny,’ he said, ‘it always did that at home, too. I wonder what I’m doing wrong.’

‘Search me.’

‘Gosh, I’m sorry,’ said Nijel, as the guards seemed to realise that the entertainment was over and closed in for the kill.

‘Don’t blame youself-’ said Rincewind, as Nijel reached up and tried unsuccessfully to free the blade.

‘Thank you.’

‘- I’ll do it for you.’

Rincewind considered his next step. In fact, he considered several steps. But the door was too far away and anyway, by the sound of it, things were not a lot healthier out there.

There was only one thing for it. He’d have to try magic.

He raised his hand and two of the men fell over. He raised his other hand and the other two fell over.

Just as he was beginning to wonder about this, Conina stepped daintily over the prone bodies, idly rubbing the sides of her hands.

‘I thought you’d never turn up,’ she said. ‘Who’s your friend?’

As has already been indicated, the Luggage seldom shows any sign of emotion, or at least any emotion less extreme than blind rage and hatred, and therefore it is hard to gauge its feelings when it woke up, a few miles outside Al Khali, on its lid in a dried-up wadi with its legs in the air.

Even a few minutes after dawn the air was like the breath of a furnace. After a certain amount of rocking the Luggage managed to get most of its feet pointing the right way, and stood doing a complicated slow-motion jig to keep as few of them on the burning sand as possible.

It wasn’t lost. It always knew exactly where it was. It was always here.

It was just that everywhere else seemed to have been temporarily mislaid.

After some deliberation the Luggage turned and walked very slowly, into a boulder.

It backed away and sat down, rather puzzled. It felt as though it had been stuffed with hot feathers, and it was dimly aware of the benefits of shade and a nice cool drink.

After a few false starts it walked to the top of a nearby sand dune, which gave it an unrivalled view of hundreds of other dunes.