#tales of a talkative housecat

[rustycottoncandy]

FIRST CHAPTER / PREVIOUS / NEXT

[grandlinedreams]

|| uhh i forgot the mating bond is just kind of a feelings/vibe pathway rather than talking so just assume reader is Daemati or smthing idk i'm too lazy to fix it and it's part of the fic

|| warnings: enemies(ish?) To lovers, mating bond fic, angst, some pining, cursing, nsfw ㅡ oral (f & m receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, piv unprotected sex (make informed decisions, kids!), breeding kink

You'd always been a sucker for fairytales.

You'd grown up on a healthy dose of them, tales repeated over and over with the weary affection of your mother as you clamored for them again. 

And what young child wouldn't enjoy stories of knights and dragons and damsels in towers? Where the villain was always clear cut, good and bad measured in black and white.

Too bad the real world never dealt with such things. No, there was no prince to kiss you from a death-like slumber, no knight to rescue you from a tower.

But there is a Cauldron, the Mother ㅡ and whatever gods exist to laugh at the hand that they've dealt you.

That's the only reason you can think of as to why you, part of Rhysand's Inner Circle, can only stare in mute disbelief at Eris Vanserra as the mating bond, mocking you with the idea of shimmering gold, snaps into place. 

“Are you done moping yet?” 

“For the last time, Mor,” you huff as you turn the page of your book, “I'm not moping. I'm busy.” 

“Busy,” Mor mocks. “Looks like moping to me. You need to stop hanging out with Az so much.” 

She waits all of two minutes before she's moving towards you, knocking the book out of your hands to drape herself across you like a contented housecat. “Come on, you need to live a little.”

“I'm four hundred and fifty years old,” you counter, hating the way a smile twitches at the corners of your lips. “I think I've lived quite a lot so far.”

“Being a bore with books and training isn't living,” Mor protests with a huff. “You've been acting weird for the last two decades, don't deny it.” 

You freeze. “I have not.”

Honey brown eyes meet yours. “Have too. You've been acting weird ever since that run in withㅡ” 

You slap a hand over her mouth. “Don't,” you hiss, then recoil. “Did you just lick my hand?” 

Mor grins as you wipe your hand on the couch before she eyes you, brow furrowing.

“Seriously,” she says, her expression sobering. “Did he do something? Because you know Rhys would want to knowㅡ” 

“No, Mor.” You push her off of you and stand. “He didn't do anything.” 

Left, right, dodgeㅡ

“Somebody's in a mood,” Cassian pants as he narrowly avoids your fist to his jaw, his eyes gleaming as he studies you. “Normally I have to drag you out here to train.”

“You don't have to drag me anywhere,” you fire back, pushing hair out of your eyes. “Just felt like it was time for a tune up of hand to hand.”

“And I get to be the lucky punching bag? I'm honored.” Cassian straightens, and you hate the way he studies you ㅡ the way Mor did, equal parts concern and curiosity. “Are you okaㅡ”

“Cauldron boil me, I said I'm fine!” You know it isn't fair to snap at Cassian, but you've felt off kilter all morning ㅡ since Rhysand had told you of the impending arrival of Eris ㅡ presumably to discuss the ever shifting agreements in the tentative allyship with him. 

Just hearing his name had put you off of your breakfast ㅡ not out of indignant disgust, though you wished it were. Anything but the traitorous lurch of the bond you'd hoped would bury itself and remain forgotten. 

Mate, it whispers, an adder coiled in the back of your mind. Your mate. 

Only if it snapped in place for him too, you remind yourself viciously. Only if you accepted it. 

And you won't. Not now, not ever.

“There you are.”

You force yourself not to freeze, turning slowly to lock eyes with the one person you'd been doing your best to pretend wasn't staying in your home. 

Eris eyes you, and the lazy trace over your legs and back up makes you want to slug him and preen in equal measure, the latter only adding to your mounting irritation. “What do you want, Eris?” 

He huffs, eyes gleaming. “Now, is that any way to talk to a guest?”

Pretentious asshole. Your teeth clench hard enough you think something might pop as you exhale. “My apologies,” you grit out, “how can I help you?” 

Eris’ eyes gleam, and you get the distinct impression that he's laughing at you. Not just at you, but at the shimmering coil in your head that sings in his proximity. 

He approaches and you take one wary step back after the other until your back meets smooth wall ㅡ and Eris is in front of you. He's devastatingly handsome, staring at you with an intensity that makes you want to punch him.

It also makes you want to ㅡ no. No. 

“Back off,” you hiss. 

“Or what?” He's taunting you. “If i were a lesser male, I'd think you'd been avoiding me.” His eyes glitter as he leans in. To anyone who could stumble upon the scene, it'd look…intimate. “But that can't possibly be what you're doing, right?” 

You should hit him. Tell him to fuck off, to get away from you ㅡ to leave entirely. You hate how he eyes you, the simmering song that your veins respond with in kind.

“Come on, little rabbit,” he exhales, voice low and almost a purr. “Where are those teeth you showed me last time?” 

You snarl, hand fisting into his shirt ㅡ and you yank him to meet your lips. It's an aggressive kiss across the board, teeth and tongue as he shoves you further against the wall, and you hate how something in you purrs at the pressure. 

This, at the very least, is horribly familiar. His touch is not unknown on your body, the snake of warm fingers against your sides so eerily similar to the handful of rendezvous so many years ago, a lifetime ago, before ㅡ 

Mate. A bond untethered, unanswered ㅡ and icy water douses the ignition of flame in your lower belly, sours the warm lips against your neck. 

“Get off me,” you rasp, ripping yourself free. “The next time you touch me, I'll cut your hands off.” 

“I want to get drunk.” 

“Hello to you too,” Mor blinks up at you, studying the tension in your shoulders. “Any special occasion or…? I feel like I should intervene if this is going to be a bad idea.” 

“Since when have you turned down a reason to go to Rita's?” 

Mor only frowns at you, then gentles her tone as she sets a hand on your shoulder with a call of your name. “Tell me what's going on,” she murmurs. “You've got us all worried, babe. Talk to me.” 

You debate telling her to forget it, to take it out in the training ring or to simply take a good, long walk along the Sidra ㅡ and then Mor presses gently, “Is it Eris?” 

You tense further, and she looses a curse. “I knew it was a bad idea to have him stay here. If he put his hands on youㅡ” 

“Mor,” you cut in. “It's not…not like that. Not anymore.” One eyebrow raises at the anymore, curious as she watches you. You exhale slowly. “My mating bond snapped into place.” 

Her eyes widen, and you can't stand the sympathy in her eyes ㅡ the idea that you're a star-crossed lover, helplessly in love with someone you aren't Cauldron-bound to. If only ㅡ perhaps you could handle that a little better than being bound to the person you are in love with. 

Who's never shown a hint that the bond has snapped into place for him. Never wanted you for more than the intervals of hands and teeth, murmured filth and promises that'd made your toes curl ㅡ and been all too happy to pretend you didn't exist except for those moments. 

“Oh,” Mor says, and your chest aches. She, of all people, knows how Eris is ㅡ and the way she stares at you makes it worse. “Oh, honey.”

She doesn't coddle you, because there are no tears to shed ㅡ you buried those along with your end of the bond, thrown a shield around it, tried to forget. You had no Prince, no Knight. 

(You'd never been good at being a damsel, anyways.)

You don't know what Mor says to the others, but you don't really care when it lands you at Rita's, snug between Cassian and Azriel and all too happy to drown your woes in the sharp tang of alcohol. 

You don't need coddling or pampering ㅡ you know what you need, and it drives you from the safety of your brothers, joining Mor to chase the pounding thrum of music. 

You're not sure when you end up with an unfamiliar Fae male's hands on you, only that you simply grin and welcome the advance, the simmering promise in his eyes to give you what you need to forget the ache in your chest ㅡ at least for tonight. 

And maybe tomorrow. And perhaps the next ㅡ whatever and however long it took for Eris to leave, to let you bury that bond back down where it belongs. 

It's as his lips are brushing over your neck that he's wrenched away from you and you blink, admonishment on your lips ㅡ and it dies a quiet, quick death at the absolute fury blazing in Eris Vanserra's eyes. Not at you, no ㅡ at the male who'd been touching you.

“Get your rutting hands off of what isn't yours,” he all but snarls, and you watch as the male disappears back into the crowd before Eris is focusing on you. “And you. Come with me. Now.” 

Some of the drowsy edge of alcohol is beginning to wear off, and you blink before your eyes narrow. “No.” 

A muscle in Eris’ jaw jumps. “We need to talk.” 

Defiance ignites in your veins, fueled by alcohol, the ruined distraction (from the very male before you), and the irritation that he won't just leave you alone. 

But maybe this is what you need ㅡ that final nail in the coffin, the claws to finally dig the bond out by the roots and get rid of it once and for all. 

So you grit your teeth, shoving hard against the ache of your chest as you bite out a flat, “Fine.” 

The trip back to the House of Wind is silent, tension rolling off both of you in waves. Eris doesn't so much as look at you, but the set of his jaw says he's still pissed. About what, you don't know ㅡ he's the one who came to crash your little party, acting as though he has a right to you.

He doesn't. The only claim he can say he has is the times he's made you cum on his fingers. You refuse to look at him, to entertain whatever self-righteous game he thinks he deserves to play. 

This is your home, not his. Regardless of how tonight ends, you will not be the one leaving. 

Somehow, be it for better or worse, you end up in your room. Eris surveys it, taking in all the little pieces that make this yours, then turns towards you.

Arms crossed over your chest, you raise an eyebrow. “Well? Talk, or get out. I don't appreciate you ruining my night.”

Anger flares, smoldering as Eris offers a terse, “I don't appreciate you letting other males touch you like that.” 

You scoff. “You don't get to boss me around, Eris,” you hiss. Your voice is sharp. “You make it sound as if you're my mate.” 

Eris’ eyes blaze, the flicker of flame at his fingertips as he snaps back, “Because I am, damn it!” 

You freeze. 

Eris, so much like the wildfire he embodies, keeps going. “I'm trying not to act like some feral animal, but you make it so hard not to when you parade around like that, it makes me want toㅡ” He cuts himself off. 

The silence between you is brittle, cracking under the strain of things unsaid ㅡ and then you break the silence.

“Makes you want to do what, Eris?” A gentle, tentative tug at that bond ㅡ reeling at the presence on the other side, an answer after decades of silence. 

His eyes lock with yours as he steps towards you. This time, you don't take a step back. “It almost makes me want to apologize to everyone who's about to hear you scream my name.”

You don't respond, but you don't have to. The shiver ripples through the bond, the blown quality of Eris’ pupils before he pounces. 

His mouth is hot against yours, demanding in ways both familiar and not as you moan, fingers digging at your hip before you're backed against the wall next to your dresser. Something clatters to the floor, but you can't bring yourself to care about anything but the wedge of Eris’ leg between your own. 

He licks into your mouth, muffling the choked sound as he grinds his thigh up against your core. You shudder at the spark of pleasure that ignites, a reflexive jerk of your hips to chase it as Eris nips at your jaw. 

“Tell me how many others have seen you like this,” he murmurs darkly against your skin, “so I know how many times to make you come so you'll forget anyone but me.”

You want to answer, you truly do ㅡ but he takes your beat of silence as a prompt to tense his thigh, and it wipes your mind blissfully clear of anything but the molten warmth pooling between your legs. 

It should be embarrassing, rutting against his thigh like some desperate animal in heat, but Eris meets every tiny noise that leaves your lips with approving nips of teeth in your skin and the wander of his hands to pull at your clothing until he meets bare skin. 

His fingers work from your hips to your navel, then to your ribs ㅡ and then he's pinching at your nipples, turning them to achingly stiff peaks as you groan and rock your hips harder against his thigh. 

And then he's slipping it away, leaving you to tremble and pant as you watch him. He could leave you like this, desperate and aching ㅡ and his eyes darken in answer before he's backing you against the dresser. More things clatter to the floor, but Eris doesn't give you time to care with the way he lifts you onto the now empty surface.

His mouth is hot against your neck, drifting to your collarbone, then to your chest ㅡ nipping and sucking marks you're sure will bruise ㅡ and then your abdomen, your core clenching around nothing when you realize his intent.

Lacquered wood creaks in protest beneath the hard curl of your hands on the dresser, fighting the urge to dig your hand into Eris’ hair as he takes his sweet time sucking marks into your thighs. “Eris,” you huff, head spinning with heady arousal and the remnants of alcohol, “please.” 

That deceptively soft mouth pauses as he looks up at you, eyes wildfire-bright. “Oh,” he murmurs, “say that again.” 

You blink before there's the barest drag of his tongue against your folds, prompting a sharp gasp and a whine when he doesn't repeat it.

“Come on,” he coaxes, watching you in a way that makes you want to smack him. Your frustration must echo down the bond, because all he does is laugh. “Manners, darling. Manners.” 

You squirm as he nips just shy of where you want him, and you groan. “Please,” you exhale, and Eris smirks.

“Much better.” 

And then his tongue is on you before you can curse at him, lips parting around a moan as he begins to work at your aching core. Your hand finds his hair at the same time that he flicks his tongue over your clit, and the answering groan that you get makes your eyes roll. 

Despite never having had his mouth on you like this before (not for lack of want, truly), Eris seems to know how to get the loudest sounds from you. Your head thumps against the mirror behind you, fingers curled tight in his hair as he works you steadily towards orgasm. 

His eyes don't miss anything, locked on your face and the way it contorts in pleasure, lips parted as you writhe and pant. It feeds his own pleasure, the steady ache of his cock in his pants as he renews his efforts. 

Your orgasm builds like a storm cloud, the ever tightening knot in your lower belly that has you at the mercy of the male between your legs. Eris knows how close you are ㅡ how can he not, with the way your thighs tremble, the steady leak of arousal against his tongue ㅡ and there's no small amount of pride to have you this desperate with just his mouth. 

The knot snaps when Eris digs the tip of his tongue against your swollen bundle of nerves and you arch with a sharp cry. He follows the shudder and jerk of your hips as you come, tongue rolling over your hot, pulsing core to swallow everything you have to offer. 

You whine as he works you through your orgasm until you're pulling him away, panting as he presses damp kisses to your thigh. “I certainly hope I haven't worn you out already,” he murmurs, and your breath hitches as warmth simmers between your legs again. 

Part of you wants to tell him that this is nowhere near the kind of talking the two of you need to do, to discuss the bond, to decide if you accept it or not. But you're shoving at him, single minded intent in the way you back him against the wall and sink to your knees.

If Eris is surprised at the way you shove at him, he hides it well, dark eyes tracking as you as you thumb at his hip bones, popping the button of his pants and tugging ㅡ leaving him bare before you. And then your mouth is on him, and it's hard to think about anything at all. 

There's pride to be had in watching his face contort with pleasure as you lick precum from his tip, sliding your tongue against the underside and feeling him throb in answer before you take him into your mouth. 

Eris groans as you envelop him in the wet warmth of your mouth, the deliberate press of your tongue against the underside of his shaft as you suck. 

“Fuck,” Eris swears, voice rough and hips jerking with a hiss when you hum around him. You can feel him throbbing, the steady leak of precum that slides down your throat as you swallow. 

His hand finds your hair, an echo of your own just moments ago and you let him guide you along his length. His chest rises and falls unsteadily, the glisten of sweat at his neck and chest, the soft grunt that leaves his throat when you suck harder. 

You watch his head hit the wall with a muffled thump as you curl your tongue against his underside, hips jerking once, twice ㅡ and then he's spilling down your throat with a groan that borders on obscene. 

You swallow before you pull back, and Eris pants as you bring a hand up to wipe at your lips. He watches you, tracking the way you slide your finger into your mouth to clean it ㅡ and then he's yanking you up, pinning you against the wall once more to kiss you.

It's an all encompassing kiss, sounds muffled as he presses into you hard enough that you can feel the stir of his cock against the apex of your thigh.  

“Eris,” you gasp against his mouth. “Eris, stop.”

He pulls away, eyes on yours ㅡ and the flicker of genuine concern makes your chest ache. “We need to talk,” you say, as if you aren't both in varied states of undress ㅡ or your mouth wasn't around his cock just a moment ago. “Actually talk.” 

You almost expect him to ignore you, to press for this ㅡ but his expression sobers, and it almost hurts to watch that desire for you snuff out like candlelight. “Okay.” 

Part of you wonders if Mor and the others are home yet, or if they'd heard the two of you ㅡ and wisely decided to make themselves scarce, because the house is as quiet as it's ever been.

Eris still looks far more composed than you feel, and you take a steadying breath as you wrap your fingers around the comforting warmth of the mug of tea before you. “...How long have you known?” 

You don't have to clarify, the gentle tug on the bond that's answered in kind on the other. “A while,” Eris answers, and it hurts that he seems focused on anything but you as he exhales. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to ask you to stay last time you were in Autumn Court.” 

Something dangerously soft unfurls in your chest, renders you mute as you study the curl of steam from your mug. You could have.

Eris’ eyes flick to you, then away. We both know that isn't true.

He's right. You never would have, and he would never have asked ㅡ you love Velaris, you love your family too much to ever stray too far. Perhaps that was also why you'd spent so long shoving the mating bond down, pretending it didn't exist ㅡ so that if it did snap in place for Eris, you wouldn't have to confront what you are now.

All you can feel is the ache, echoed in tandem, the way you almost wish that it wasn't there at all ㅡ and you recoil from the hurt on his end. He exhales. “Do you really…”

You curl in on yourself. “No,” you mumble, “I just ㅡ I'm terrified, Eris. We both know what we won't give up, and I don't…I don't know how we're expecting this to work.”

Eris is silent for several long moments before he moves, and there's the press of warm fingers against your jaw, coaxing you to look up ㅡ and then he's kissing you.

It's sweet, gentle ㅡ and it only makes you hurt worse as he pulls away to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your forehead. “We'll figure it out.” 

ㅡ

When I said we'd figure it out, this is not what I thought we'd be doing. 

You can feel his annoyance, the flare of it at your answering amusement. It's what's working right now. 

So you say. He falls silent, and you resume tying your leathers. What exactly are you up to, anyways? 

Training. You finish, making sure that they're in place properly before you exit your room. 

Such a shame I'm not there to admire you. 

Your heart, the stupid thing, gives a soft flutter that you know Eris is undoubtedly aware of. More like distract me.

Would that be so bad? You roll your eyes, shaking your head. You're the one who's holding out on me, love. Don't think I've forgotten.

That you haven't technically accepted the bond, that you'd instead offered what the two of you have been doing for the last few weeks since Eris returned to Autumn Court. Which was, in truth, perhaps, a coward's way out. 

Because for all your jabs and steady ebb and flow through the bond, you're still terrified. That though the Cauldron had given you him, he could still be taken away. 

There's the distinct feeling of warm fingers against your mind, stroking ㅡ trying to settle you. I've waited this long for you, you know.

Sunlight warms your skin. I bet I have you beat in terms of waiting. 

We'll see about that.

“There you are,” Cassian calls as you approach. “Thought I was going to have to drag your lazy ass out of bed.”

“As if,” you snap back, but you're grinning as you stretch. Cassian smirks, eyes gleaming ㅡ relieved that you're back to normal, if not perhaps a little cheerier than you have been in a while. 

No doubt in large part to me, right? You almost drop your practice dagger, rolling your eyes as you square off in front of Cassian. 

Not everything has to involve you, you answer, knowing that the barb isn't anywhere near as vicious as it could be. 

But it could, Eris answers. As I said, such a shame I'm not there to admire you. He pauses. Shall I tell you? Or let you imagine on your own?

Your movement stutters for a second as you swing too wide, rolling backwards to avoid Cassian's own lunge at you. I'm busy. 

So you're not imagining my head between your legs again? He sounds all too pleased with himself, with the way you fall silent ㅡ abruptly thinking of that exact thing, much to his amusement. Because I am. You're so cruel, not allowing me the pleasure of fucking you with my tongue again.

You block a blow meant for your middle, swinging your leg out. Sweat drips down your temple, the familiar ache of your body that sparring always gives you ㅡ and more, the curl of warmth at Eris’ words. 

Or maybe I should have let you finish on my thigh first. You certainly were eager. Your breath stutters. Or perhaps my fingers next? I wonder how many you can take. Last time it was two, yes? Should we try for a third? He pauses, ever the satisfied fox for how your end of the bond goes silent still. Or perhaps you'd prefer my coㅡ 

Eris. He's laughing at you now, amusement echoing even as you throw up the barrier, blocking him out. 

Across from you, Cassian eyes you. He's aware of that far-away look, the snap to clarity once more before your eyes narrow on him. “Don't,” you intone in warning, and he grins.

“What? I didn't say anything.” He straightens, dusting off one of his bracers, the gleam of the siphons in mid-day sun before he approaches to clap you on the shoulder. “I'd pay to watch you shut him up in person, though.” 

“That,” you murmur, “could probably be arranged.”

ㅡ

To be fair, you don't bake a lot. And it'd taken an inordinate amount of courage to ask Elain to help you, the soft, knowing look she'd shot you that'd made your cheeks color. 

But she'd helped you knead dough, rolling it out and crimping it into place so that now you had a pie. 

A pie that mocks you with the simplicity of it, the last minute effort of adding coarse sugar to the top so that it glitters like the frozen crests of the mountains. Simple ㅡ perhaps too simple. 

Nothing like the elaborate things you've seen in windows of bakeries, in glossy magazines ㅡ you've never been good at that. Decent yes, but never so to recreate anything so elaborate.

You groan, pillowing your head into your arms ㅡ only to lift it a moment later at the crisp, Autumnal scent that invades your senses. As if you'd need even that ㅡ there's the familiar tug at the bond that has you watching as Eris strolls through the door. 

You don't leap into his arms. You don't even tackle him ㅡ but there is a swiftness to your gait that has you against him in a heartbeat, face tucked into his neck. 

“Well,” he murmurs, “was my presence missed that badly?”

“Shut up,” you huff, but there's no venom ㅡ not when the knotted tension in your chest is easing, made quicker for the arms that wind around you, tucking you tighter against him. 

“Here I thought you'd be so glad to have me back,” Eris sighs in mock-lament. “Your beloved mate had to find a believable enough excuse as to why I had to come here. Don't you think that deserves a kiss?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, even as the little bit of truth to your situation sinks home. Autumn Court is beautiful ㅡ but there's good reasons as to why Eris doesn't want you there more than absolutely necessary. Reasons that you forcefully shut out, instead studying his face ㅡ just as he spots the pie.

“What,” he murmurs, “is that?”

Your cheeks warm, even as you scoff. “A pie.” 

“Obviously,” Eris says, arm still slung around your waist. “But where did it come from?”

You study the wood paneling, the carefully detailed artwork from Feyre when she'd stayed here. The cabin isn't often used ㅡ and when you'd asked for usage of it, Rhysand had the audacity to smirk at you. Eris prompts you with a call of your name, and you almost contemplate winnowing and trying again later. 

“Me,” you answer finally. “I made it. For you.” 

Eris freezes against you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you before there are warm fingers on your chin, coaxing you to look at him ㅡ the only warning that you get before he's kissing you. 

You can feel the grip he has at your waist as he backs you until you meet the counter, your noise of surprise muffled by his mouth. “Eris,” you manage when he pulls away for a moment, “I worked hard on that pieㅡ” 

“And I'll happily eat it,” he huffs against your neck, voice low and rough as he lifts you onto the counter, slotting himself between your legs. “I'm busy right now.” 

You want to protest, but his teeth are bruising over your pulse, making you shudder and lean away, giving him more room to work. It earns you a low growl of approval as he busies himself with sucking marks into the column of your throat. 

One hand curls against his shoulder as the other slides into his hair, earning a groan when your nails curl against his scalp. Warm fingers slide up beneath your shirt to yank it upwards, contact of his mouth broken long enough to toss your shirt somewhere else ㅡ and then he's mouthing at your chest, tongue sliding over one achingly stiff nipple and then the other.

“Eris,” you exhale, “godㅡ” 

He nips sharply at the underside of your breast. “There are no gods here, love. Only me, and I don't share.” 

It's spoken in the tone you know is that primal edge of the bond, the innate need to take you ㅡ that'll have him near feral for days if another male so much as looks at you. It thrums in your veins, feeding your need to answer in kind as he grinds down against you, hard pressure against your core making your eyes flutter. 

And then he's pulling away to tug at your pants, kissing his way down one leg and then the other ㅡ and then that sinful mouth is on your core, just as he'd promised. The roll of his tongue has you moaning, hand in his hair to keep him from pulling away ㅡ even though you know he won't. 

You have no doubts that you're absolutely soaking as he presses into you like a man starved, keeping your legs parted as he fucks you with his tongue. Your back arches as he sucks at your clit, the sharp, broken cry that makes him smirk against your aching core. 

Your orgasm is looming, brought ever closer by every curl and roll of Eris’ tongue as you pant and writhe, fingers of the hand not occupied in his hair scrabbles for purchase against the counter beneath you.

As he'd done weeks ago, Eris works you through your orgasm as it washes over you like a thunderclap, letting up only once your noises have been reduced to whimpers and you're tugging at his hair.

Warm, damp kisses trail up your abdomen to your chest before Eris kisses you, and you moan at both the taste of yourself on his tongue and the fingers that he slides into you. 

You're slick enough that the slip of them is easy, and Eris groans at the way you tighten around him as he works you open. The stretch of his fingers has you keening and arching into him as his thumb finds your clit. 

“I told you,” he murmurs, “how I intended to admire you. But you making all of these infernal noisesㅡ” He curls his fingers and you keen, hips jerking against his hand. “And it makes it hard to stay focused.” 

You wish you could answer, you really do ㅡ but the way he's working you towards a second orgasm has robbed you of any eloquence beyond shuddering gasps and hiccuped moans. 

“My pretty mate,” Eris groans into your neck. He can feel the way you tighten as your orgasm nears, the lewd sound of his fingers as they thrust in and out of you. His cock throbs in his pants, and it's self-control alone that keeps him from spilling into his pants as you soak his hand as you come for the second time, making such pretty noises that Eris swears it's all he wants to hear for the rest of his immortal life.

He finally has the courtesy to lift you off of the counter, a slick mess left behind that he entertains the idea of making you clean up later with a hand in your hair and his cock in you as he takes you from behind ㅡ and the answering flare of arousal from you almost makes him want to do it now. 

But it's the soft plush of a bed that meets your bare back, legs parted to welcome the settle of Eris between them ㅡ deliciously bare, erection just shy of where you want him.

And despite the two orgasms he's coaxed from you, you have no qualms in telling him as you rock your hips up, head tipping back against the bed. “Fuck me properly, Eris.”

He raises an eyebrow, a Cauldron-sent menace as he tongues at the marks he's left on you, strawberry blossoms he's made sure will get the point across. “Ask nicely, love.”

You huff, then knock your leg against his hip, rolling so that you're straddling him now, hands planted against his chest. “You need to put that mouth to better use than pissing me off.”

“I already did,” Eris answers, cocky gleam to his eyes that makes you roll your own before he's hissing as you take him into your hand, guiding him to your slick entrance before you sink down.

“Being my mate doesn't excuse you annoying me,” you say, tone shaky for the way pleasure spiderwebs at the stretch of him inside you, the golden whisper of finally, finally, finally.

Eris’ expression is also taut as you clench around him before he offers a rough, “Say it again.” 

You stare down at him, aware of the way his pupils have blown so far you can't tell the color of his eyes anymore, the steady throb of his cock inside you. You don't have to ask what he wants you to say.

 You stretch over him, the slow roll of your hips that has him gripping at you even as your lips meet the delicate arch of his ear and you offer a breathy sigh. “My mate.” 

Eris snaps. You can't even yelp as you're flipped back into the sheets, moan leaving your hips as he bucks into you. The pace is aggressive enough that the bed creaks in protest beneath you, but you can't bring yourself to care. 

Nothing matters beyond the hard thrust of him inside you, tip knocking against that spot inside you that has you making sounds that'd put a pleasure-hall to shame. Your fingers curl against his back, rewarded with a groan that makes you tighten around him further as his hips roll steadily against yours. 

“Mine,” Eris huffs against your hair, then your temple, then your neck, the graze of his teeth making you shudder and arch into him. “Mine.”

Yours,” you gasp, choked cry ripped from you at the sink of his teeth against your skin.

One hand anchors him over you as the other skims over your breasts and down your abdomen to rub tight circles into your swollen clit. The contact makes you keen, and Eris huffs a rough laugh as you clench around him.

“Gonna come already, love?” You offer something that might be words, garbled and incoherent for the way pleasure is overloading your brain. It amuses Eris further as he watches your expression contort, the part of those pretty, kiss-swollen lips of yours as you mewl and moan.

“Two orgasms and still so needy…” He offers a playful click of his tongue. “Insatiable.”

As if he's faring better given that he's opted to simply grind his pelvis against yours now, intent on staving off his own orgasm for as long as he can in order to continue tormenting you with the pleasurable sink of his cock inside you. 

“Want you to come in me,” you rasp, a moment of clarity that makes Eris freeze above you for all of ten seconds ㅡ and then he's moving again, groaning as he fucks into you with renewed vigor.

“My pretty mate wants me to fill her up, huh?” He goads, slick fingers pinching at your nipple and tugging until you're crying out. “Want me to fuck you full of my seed? Go ahead and put a baby in you so everyone knows who you belong to?”

You don't get to respond because you're cumming hard, clamped hard around him as he manages one, two, three unsteady thrusts before Eris is pushing as deep into you as he can and groaning your name into your neck as he spills into you. The warmth of it makes you almost squeal, arching into him before he's settling over you, sweat slick-skin and a heartbeat to match yours. 

The next several moments are silent save for heavy breathing and the soft noise Eris makes as you drift your hand up and down his back. 

“Worth the wait?” Eris asks at last, and you pretend to think long enough that Eris pinches at your side in protest. “If you don't answer me, I'll just have to keep outdoing myself until you say otherwise.” 

“Is that so bad?” You challenge, and you can feel the twitch of him inside you, the way he's stiffening as his eyes flash.

“No,” he growls, “not at all.”

[fictionadventurer]

Details:

1940s Hans Christian Andersen shorts: Intended as animated segments within a live-action film about the author's life, these would have adapted The Little Mermaid, The Fir Tree, Through the Picture Frame, The Emperor's Nightingale, and The Steadfast Tin Soldier. (Yes, I know we got adaptations of several of these, but I still want to share the concept art for old versions).

Gremlins: A film they worked on a lot during WWII but couldn't crack the story (or find money to make it)

Don Quixote: They tried to adapt the story in various ways in the '40s, '50s, and '00s, which is too long to get into here, but it led to some interesting concept art.

Chanticleer: A story about an arrogant rooster who thought his crow made the sun rise, and used this to rule over the other farmyard animals. Reynard the Fox was a villain who tried to take advantage of the discontent in the farm animals to take over as their leader (with plans to eat them), which leads to Chanticleer saving them and learning humility. Work started on it in the 1940s, and it was so close to being made in the 1960s, but they decided to go with The Sword in the Stone instead. Some of the animators loved it, though, and some of the character concepts were later adapted into Robin Hood.

Catfish Bend: I haven't found much about the story beyond "talking animals in the South", but the concept art intrigues me. It would have been released in 1981, but after it was shelved, some of the concepts went on to inspire The Rescuers.

Mistress Masham's Repose: An adaptation of T.H. White's novel, pitched in the late 1980s

Fraidy Cat: 2009 film about a pampered housecat named Oscar who is falsely accused of kidnapping another pet and has to team up with a cockatoo and try to find the real culprit to clear his name. Shelved because they figured kids and general audiences wouldn't understand the Hitchcock references (which seems like a terrible reason, but alas).

King of the Elves: Announced in 2009, it was a 3D animated film scheduled for 2012, before being shelved in 2016. Adapted from a Philip K. Dick story, it was about an ordinary man who saves some elves from a troll and (apparently reluctantly) gets declared their king.

Gigantic: A retelling of Jack and the Beanstalk set during the Spanish exploration, it involves Jack meeting an 11-year-old female giant who treats him like a doll, and eventually fighting much larger Storm Giants. Would have had songs written by the team from Frozen and was set to be released in 2018, then moved to 2020 before being cancelled because apparently they couldn't figure out the story.

[shortsnackattack]

The Baker's Daughter

MHA Fantasy AU Fatgum (Tai/Taishiro) x you (femreader) --injury to recovery, mostly fluff

Summary: Fantasy AU. You’ve grown up in a quaint hamlet and unbeknownst to you, caught the eye of a monster hunter. What happens when the man who’d been secretly pining for you ends up bloody and broken outside your family’s bakery?

Tw: some cursing, blood, injury, recovery, scarring, pregnancy, child nursing

Due to the trigger warning and content, 18+MDNI please!

You’ve grown up between the stacks of flour, the powdered sugar clinging to your cheeks and apron. By now you know your father’s recipes by heart and have started to put your own spin on them, adding raisins or nuts, mixing cinnamon or nutmeg. Through the years you’ve found that the little niche of the world that used to chafe, that seemed so small, has started to fit like a glove. Maybe you didn’t need adventure out there in the great wide world, maybe the small difference you made here was enough to satisfy that desire for something. Your desires, sunning themselves like Sunday housecats, lie dormant. The steady business, the comfort of living with your family, and watching your friends as they likewise flourished, it all added up to a contentment you found unexpectedly satisfying.

In fact it was this simplicity, this small pastural slice of domesticity that drew him to you and your family’s shop.

Tai had seen you out and about fetching water, delivering loaves and cakes to customers at home, but he’d never managed to talk to you. His work, far more brutal and isolating than he’d care to admit, only brought him through the town once every couple months. As time passed, Taishiro started to wonder about you, make up fake stories about your life, imagining what your day to day looked like, wondering if you had siblings or pets or a lover. That last part always stuck awkwardly in his throat.

Knowing full well a man in his line of work could never provide a stable home for another, he’d never even taken the first step to get to know you, but as the months dragged on to years and he never saw you with a wedding band or the tell-tale sign of a bump, he wondered why someone hadn’t snatched you up yet.

Enough, Taishiro chastised himself. He’d thought of you enough. And like that Tai purposely avoided the town for months, knowing that one day he would return and he would see that golden band or that baby bump and it would hurt him more than any monster he’d faced.

It wasn’t until one fateful night that your paths would finally cross.

For days he’d hunted monsters, trying to clear out a small pack of them along the eastern ridge when the town that had hired him held more surprises than just a monster problem. It was also home to a man who wanted him dead for reasons muddied by time and rumor, changing the story beyond a recognizable shape.

The stark fact, however, is that Taishiro found himself running through the forest in the black of night, with nothing put a sliver of a moon and the sound of arrows at his back. The pain of being shot was easily overpowered by the fear that he’d not be able to get away, so he followed a bend, waited for the sound of his pursuers to continue ahead before he quickly deviated to the left and kept walking until he found himself in the town he’d sworn he’d never return to.

Damn it all, if he’s going to break one of the promises he’d made to himself, he might as well break another.

That’s how Taishiro found himself in the alleyway behind your family’s bakery, half conscious and clutching at his side where he could still feel the blood pooling too fast, no sign of it coagulating in his current state. If he didn’t get help soon he’d surely bleed out, but as Taishiro leaned his head back against the wall of your family’s bakery, he allowed himself a small smile. At least his last thoughts would be of you and the smell of freshly baked bread.

Or maybe oblivion had to wait for another day.

When Taishiro came to, he noticed that he was laying flat on his back, the mattress beneath him more comfortable than the ground he usually slept on. With consciousness, however, came the shooting pain through his side and he gingerly put a hand to feel it only to come into contact with a hefty bandage over the wound.

The room itself wasn’t large, but with only one window allowing weak light to enter, it was impossible to know what time of day it was. The sound of shuffling drew his attention to the door and when it swung open he thought his heart had stopped completely. It was you, the girl from the bakery, the one who he’d fantasized about so much you were practically a walking myth. Tai’s traitorous eyes shamefully bounced to where your left hand carried a pitcher of water, looking for the wedding band that would tell him what he’d always feared, but it was still empty and a sick twist of pleasure cut through his gut.

Upon noticing that he was awake, you came straight over and took stock of his condition. You looked into his eyes and felt his pulse before giving him a cup of water to drink.

He quickly downed two, and after thanking you his breath caught slightly before he gave you his name. You gave him yours in turn and your name, fresh upon his ears, demanded to be tasted by his mouth. Taishiro said it lowly, but you must have heard him because you gave him an inquisitive look and a small smile.

Between your eyes and your smile, Tai thought he actually had died out there in that alley, but the sharp pain in his side reminded him that he was still very much alive and still very much injured. Noticing the pain that shot across his features as he adjusted his position on the cot, you helped him right himself before gingerly opening the bandage to examine the wound. You waved away his concerns and promised that the doctor would return after a while to check in on him again. With a final promise that you would return with some soup and bread, he was once more left alone to contemplate his current situation.

Damn it all to hell. Truly, is this the punishment the universe saw fit to give him? You, always there, always smelling like bread and sugar, and always so damnably nice? It was maddening to see you every day, to see your smile, you feel your hands checking his forehead and cheeks for any sign of fever, to feel you gently prod at the wound to make sure the stiches were holding and not becoming infected.

You spoke low in his presence, as though speaking too loudly would startle him out of recovery. Even when he tried to detain you with questions you would simply smile and promise him “later, later, I must return to the shop” and then later when you did return, with a tray laden with that night’s dinner still hot and fragrant, you simply watched him eat and told him small snippets of what he wanted to know. The most pressing questions always beyond his reach, beyond what would be polite to ask.

Frustrated and painfully aware that if he didn’t leave your care soon he might never want to leave your side, Taishiro asked you what your husband thought of you taking care of a strange man. You simply smiled, and said that if you had a husband then perhaps you’d be better equipped to answer.

Taishiro did something then that surprised himself more than it surprised you, and your eyes were wide enough to indicate your shock: he grabbed your wrist, lightly, but firm enough that you wouldn’t mistake his actions. Anchored to the spot, you looked to his eyes with questions and a wariness he’d never seen flit across your features. But when he finally worked up the courage to ask why you were unmarried, his tongue failed him, instead asking you when he would be well enough to be released.

Your features softened at that and told him that within a few weeks he should be healthy enough to move around freely and go about his business.

Weeks? He wouldn’t make it. Every day his notice of the way your skirts swished across the floor increased, every day the smell of baked goods that never seemed to leave your hair enticed him to lean closer. One day you brought a basin of water to help him bathe and he thought he would die on the spot, gruffly assuring you that after you cleaned his back he could manage the rest. When on the following day you brought him a small cake that had broken in the oven, and he tasted the heavenly mix of spices and sugar that always seemed to cling to your hair, he thought he truly would go mad with desire.

The following night you joined him for dinner instead of just bringing his portion and when a bit of wine caught at the corner of your mouth Tai’s hand unconsciously reached out to brush it away with his thumb. His thumb lingered over your mouth a moment or two longer than strictly necessary before he withdrew his hand and brought his thumb to his own mouth, licking the wine from it. Stifling a groan, he watched as a flash of hunger crossed your vision before you gulped and murmured out a small thank you.

So then, you weren’t immune to him, either. The thought pleased him to no end.

After that day Taishiro would make up some reason to touch you. These reasons, though on the surface seemed innocent enough, did little to stop the wicked imaginings that thinned his willpower. The feel of your hands as you helped him sit up and stand practically seared his skin. When Taishiro started walking again, perhaps he didn’t have to lean so close on you, but feeling how his arm enclosed your shoulders was more satisfying than the small sweets you brought him after the shop closed for the day. Nothing came close, however, to the feeling of when you would brush his hair for him, the feeling of the brush against his scalp and your soft hands in his hair. If he were a cat he’d purr at the sensation that trickled down his spine.

His palms itched to have you within their grasp, but he balled his hands into fists, reminding himself that after he was recovered there was no future for the two of you. Things couldn’t even go back to the way they were—not properly at least.

Now instead of the fantasies, Tai had the reality, or a taste of it at least. Instead of wondering what you do all day he knew your routine.

He knew that you had a soft spot for animals, and that you often snuck small treats into your pockets for the children in the square. He knew that you like your green dress with the small daisies at the hemline, and that your favorite soap has a hint of lavender. Your hands aren’t soft in the way a fine lady’s are, but compared to his that have seen forests and weapons and fear, they might as well be. Taishiro has memorized the faint scar on your forehead and the way you laugh is different when you’re startled into it.

How can he return to the fantasy when the real thing is so much sweeter? How can he return to a fantasy when he knows that with a simple look he can make your cheeks turn pink, that you sometimes sneak glances at him across the room when you think he’s not looking? How can he turn his back on the knowledge that you also share some sort of affection for him?

As Taishiro’s wound healed and the scabbing started giving way to scar tissue, he knew that he was running out of the borrowed time the universe had given him. He refused to try and seduce you, that would only hurt you once he’d eventually leave, but as the days dragged on he found it harder and harder to say goodbye.

One day Tai felt well enough to go for a walk by himself outside, pleased by the feeling of the soft summer air on his face and the sunshine on his back. He walked a few blocks in no particular direction, noticing how the town hadn’t changed much in the months he’d purposefully stayed away. Knowing that you’d be in a safe, stable place pleased him.

Upon his return to the bakery however, he discovered you sitting on his cot, your back to the doorway so all he could see was the light shaking of your shoulders.

“Did you think I wouldn’t come back?” he asked, his own voice deep with emotion.

When you turned, that emotion broke open further, pushing him to cross the distance between you with a few sure strides and to take you into his arms as he sat beside you on the cot.

You laughed a bit, feeling foolish that he should see you like this, but his hand dragging over the back of your head gave you a reassurance you hadn’t realized you needed. He drew back far enough to wipe your tears away with his thumbs before cupping your cheeks between his hands. He felt it, the way the earth had shifted with you there beside him. He could feel the divide in his heart mending itself back together and he did the only thing his poor broken heart had ever wanted to do and kissed you. It was gentle, a kiss full of promise and yet restrained. He drew back, slightly overwhelmed, but it was you, pulling him back to your lips that fully sunk him. He deepened the kiss, shifting his hands from your cheeks to your hair, allowing one to tangle into your roots and another to plant itself between your shoulder blades.

When the two of you drew apart this time, his thoughts were of nothing but warmth, his body leaning forward, honing in on the way your breath gently panted against his own lips. His body, moving of its own accord leaned in again, shaping and reshaping your lips, hungrily devouring them as his hands itched to pull you even closer against him. It was only through his own willpower, something that had deserted him long enough to kiss your lips into their current swollen and perfect state, that stopped him from pressing further.

Taishiro simply reached up to his hair and grabbed the leather cord binding it back, allowing his unruly hair to fall. This time when he took your wrist he held it gently and wrapped the leather cord around it. Tying it off he then kissed your skin just below it and looked up into your eyes. Smiling at what he found there, he gently cupped your cheek and kissed you once more, a silent promise between the both of you.

-Several Years Later-

Watching you has always been one of Tai’s favorite things to do, but now, watching the sway of your hips and the way you deftly maneuver around the bakery despite the growing bump has become second nature. He could spend hours watching you talk to customers, brushing the flour off your hands onto your apron, giving them that winning smile that had won him over so long ago.

Assimilating into a more peaceful life, a thought that had once given him an itch that he couldn’t escape, was now a balm to his battered heart. Waking up to the sound of your child nursing from you as the three of you lay in bed shot so much love through him that he was briefly overwhelmed. Catching sight of his face you smiled gently, guessing at what had brought such emotion to the fierce man you’d met bleeding out behind your family’s bakery.

He fondly brushed his lips over the infant’s head before lowering to give another kiss to the bump that had started to make itself more pronounced with each passing day. Rubbing a hand over the bump he hummed in contentment before glancing at the light that was starting to spill into your bedroom. The cottage was small but cozy, a small haven for your family to grow.

Satisfied that he still had time before the two of you would be expected to head into the bakery, he shifted to put and arm over you without disturbing the infant still happily nursing.

This was it. This was the Elysium he’d denied himself for so long, afraid he’d never see it, afraid he’d never be worthy of it.

But the day grew lighter, the baby was fed, and he was home.

Thank you for reading!!

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Oreo

Aliases / Nicknames: Warrior-killer, Kittypet

Gender: she-cat

Sexuality: bisexual, panromantic

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father, Puma (son), several unnamed kits

Other Relations: N/A

Clan: none

Rank: kittypet

Characteristics: hates cold weather, loves snuggling and belly rubs from those she likes, hates others making on judgements about her based on the fact that she is a kittypet

Murder Motive: vengeance

Number of Victims: 9

Number of Murders: 7

Murder Method: shaking necks until they snap, surprise attack

Known Victims: Jackdawfoot, Frostfeather, Heatherblaze, Thistlethorn, Snailpeak, Antsnout, Lakeclaw, Dovehaze, Cherrystrike

Victim Profile: Thunderclan warriors, her daughter’s killer, her daughter’s killer’s Clanmates

Cause of Death: neck snapped

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

She hadn’t expected that losing her kits would hurt so much. She knew that her housefolk would give them to good homes before they were even born, she prepared herself for it, and didn’t even name them. 

Still, her heart ached a little more with every kit that left. But the last one stayed, to her delight and surprise, for so long that Oreo finally felt safe enough to name him. Puma. She had heard it before and liked the ring of it.

She and Puma were always close. She groomed her son’s fur, taught her the best ways to beg their housefolk for food or capture the birds that landed in their garden. 

They had fights as well, of course, all parents and kits do. But it was never anything so serious. There was only once when things were tense between them for a quarter-moon, during which Puma was taken to the cutter. When he returned and Oreo learned of what had occurred, all anger was thrown out and she spent the next several moons caring for Puma’s every step.

Puma began to indulge too much, eating most of the food and hardly leaving the home. With much work and much tough love, Oreo was able to push her son to explore the grass again.

She went with him the first few times, but the final time, Puma was on his own. The younger housefolk shrieked, and Oreo ran faster than she ever had in her life, but it was too late. Puma was dead, his throat marked with an ugly red line.

Oreo’s life existed in a haze. Her neighbors tried to talk to her, but she wasn’t interested. Every step she took, every bit of food she had, it was only a reminder of things stolen from her son. Everywhere she looked was a memory now gone. And she was supposed to keep living like this? She was supposed to lay on the sofa where her son climbed for the first time? Just walk past the room where he said his first word? To not lose her sanity as her Puma’s scent faded away a little more every day, knowing that it would soon be entirely gone?

Then the neighboring cat spoke to her again, and this time her attention was raised. She was told that Puma wasn’t a lone case, others were dying in the same manner. Some claimed it to be a demon, some a lion, and others more both.

Meetings were held between housecats that weren’t too afraid to leave their homes. Kits were warned to never leave their gardens, or the flowers in them would no longer hide their scent, and the ‘demon’ would track them down.

Oreo wasn’t so convinced of these stories. Wild cats lived in the forest right next to their homes. Of course it was them! She lead the plan to enact vengeance and kill their kin’s murderer.

It was successful, but Oreo still felt hollow. Perhaps wandering the woods, the only place near her home that she had yet to explore, would clear her head. There, she was attacked by another of those warriors. But they underestimated Oreo, and her anger gave an extra strength to her claws as she swung at them.

She didn’t kill him then, only banged him up. The same thing went for the next Clan cat, who she intentionally looked for. But it wasn’t enough to quench her thirst. Puma was still dead. Puma had still suffered. How many more should die by a warrior’s claws because they lived differently? That manged tom was dead, but another could take his place.

So she would jump them. She would grab them by the scruff so that they couldn’t move, and shook them until she heard a snap. It was easy, that is until a patrol jumped her. They grabbed her head and twisted it far, far, and all went black.

Additional Information:

--Thanks to @starfalcon555​ for the name suggestion!

--In death, her head is snapped so far that it faces the side.

--Second picture was by @saffronscales​

--One of her victims is Jackdaw’s sister!

--Jackdawfoot regrets what he did now!

[voteformightyclocks]

The Last Wish: Spoiler-Free Review

Okay. so as none of you know, I'm a HUGE fan of the original Puss In Boots, and as such I bought a ticket for The Last Wish the day tickets went on sale. I waited impatiently for months for that movie to come out, and watched it on Christmas Eve, and I'm finally getting around to writing about it

For context, I believe the original Puss In Boots is better than any of the Shrek movies. Shrek 2 and Puss In Boots both hold up really well to this day, but Puss In Boots is better at capturing the magic of fairy tale stories than Shrek 2 was; Shrek 2 modernized too much for it to contain that same magic. And as such, I argue to this day that the best Shrekverse movie is Puss In Boots. The only thing holding Puss In Boots was just the spontaneous humor and the way they downplayed the central antagonist with humor

The Last Wish fixes those mistakes

If you go in expecting a movie similar to the original, the first, like, 5 minutes will be your cup of tea. It has the same spontaneous humor, the villain is basically just there for laughs, and Puss is this high-and-mighty outlaw. The leadup to the giant and the battle against the giant both showcase who Puss is: he's a rebel against the rich and a protector of the poor. He cares not for people with power, and instead uses his own skills and power to defend the common folk through his heroic antics. But, as the trailer shows, he carelessly gets crushed, and he's now on his last life

This is where the story takes a turn. We have several minutes of denial. "Retire? I am Puss in Boots!" But that's when the story's driving villain shows up. They weren't really highlighted in the trailers, so I'll be very secretive about who the villain is, but the moment they appear on screen, I had chills. This villain was not like the ones who had come before. This villain was not something to laugh about. And Puss realizes this. Puss is scared into retirement- I mean, into hiding, and gets used to the undignified way of life that is a housecat, until Goldilocks and the Three Bears show up: bounty hunters seeking Puss' help with reaching the mythical Wishing Star

Puss outsmarts them and decides to pursue this Wishing Star alone...

Well. Alone plus his emotional support dog. Short story, but a weird one to tell

And off he goes on his quest to find the Wishing Star and restore his lives

And that's the introduction to the story and most of the central characters, so I can't really progress further without spoiling major parts of the story

Downsides of the story:

The central villain is beaten in an unsatisfying way, and deserved a better conclusion

The secondary villain was mediocre at best, and falls into the trap of Laughable Villain Syndrome

Ofc they're going to end the movie with a tie-in to the upcoming Shrek 5

Upsides of the story:

Very deep story

Legitimately terrifying central villain

Tertiary villains are masterfully done, start to finish

My Personal Rating: 10/10

This movie has flaws, don't get me wrong, but this movie is also the best blend of nostalgia and storytelling that I've ever seen before. While most of the characters were well done, there are three particular characters that shine through every moment they are on screen: Puss, Goldilocks, and the central antagonist; especially the latter two. I'll also take the moment to point out that Goldilocks was voiced by Florence Pugh, so there's that :D

And yeah. This is 100% a recommendation! There's honestly no real theory fodder available in this movie. Like sure, maybe some minor theories, but nothing about the future of Puss, Kitty, and Perrito. There might be a spin-off for Goldilocks, but we don't know enough specifics about her past to guess where in her life a story might take place, let alone what it would be about. It closed pretty much every loose thread it had, except one, but I can't talk about that yet...not until I'm ready to discuss the most terrifying PG villain I've ever seen

[rivsocblog]

OC - Cecille

Storyline - GalacticClan (Warrior Cats)

General information

Name/s: Cecille ('See-sill') - Sunshade

Age: 16 moons (as of start of Clouded Sun)

Sex/Gender: Intersex - Genderfluid

Pronouns: He/She/They

Appearance: Brown and White bi-colour Maine Coon

Personality:

External- Calm, quiet, loyal, loving, determined, playful tendencies when around the right cats

Internal- (some of these developed over time, and only show if something sets them off) Defensive/protective, strong-willed, snappy, argumentative, violent

Story-based Information

Cecille started out as a housecat, living and loving their comfortable life, until their owners took in a small, heavily injured wild cat, Pebblefang. He would always talk about his clan, life in the wild, and with great pride at that. Cecille enjoyed listening to his tales despite not being interested in leaving themselves, but at least his talking and reminiscing kept his mind off of his injuries. They helped him through a tough recovery and by the time he was ready to leave, they were faced with a tough choice. Stay with their owners and live a comfortable life, or go out into the wild with Pebblefang... And by chance meet their sister and former housemate again. Of course, they chose the latter.

After a... rather rough introduction to the clan and a series of tests, they were welcomed into SaturnClan and were named Sunshade, despite requesting not changing their name (SC being a clan of tradition did not permit this)

And well, I'm not speaking any more on this since I am in the progress of writing their story, and that's spoilers!

Other random information

HC theme song - You're Not Welcome (Naethan Apollo)

Voice - Androgynous (very slight fem leaning), deep, kinda soft, rough when loud/angered.

Oh, right, this story is about cats with magic

Cecille is a tracker. Using the memory of a face, scent or voice, they can know their target's location, and how to get to them.

Overall role in plot - protagonist

Cecille is open for asks!

[unravelingthepages]

Writers of the Future Volume 40: Audiobook review

Hi! This is a collection of short stories that I listened to in an audiobook format while referencing the illustrations simultaneously and before I talk about the short stories, I have to give shoutout to the illustrations!! Kudos to the illustrators because they did an amazing job! Now onto the short stories- we have twelve stories mainly, of the sci-fi genre and they are from various authors specifically handpicked. Here’s more about the short stories:

Book blurb

Twelve captivating tales from the best new writers of the year as selected by Writers of the Future Contest judges accompanied by three more from L. Ron Hubbard, Nancy Kress, S.M. Stirling. Each is accompanied by a full-color illustration.

“When her owner goes missing, a digital housecat must become more than simulation to find her dearest companion through the virtual world.—“The Edge of Where My Light Is Cast” by Sky McKinnon, art by Carina Zhang

No one came to his brother’s funeral. Not even the spirits. Étienne knew it was his fault.—“Son, Spirit, Snake” by Jack Nash, art by Pedro N.

Man overboard is a nightmare scenario for any sailor, but Lieutenant Susan Guidry is also running out of air—and the nearest help is light years away.—“Nonzero” by Tom Vandermolen, art by Jennifer Mellen

Mac wanted to invent a cocktail to burn itself upon the pages of history—but this one had some unexpected side effects.—“The Last Drop” by L. Ron Hubbard and L. Sprague de Camp, art by Chris Arias

Dementia has landed Dan Kennedy in Graydon Manor, and what’s left of his life ahead seems dismal, but a pair of impossible visitors bring unexpected hope.—“The Imagalisk” by Galen Westlake, art by Arthur Haywood

When a teenage swamp witch fears her mama will be killed, she utilizes her wits and the magic of the bayou—no matter the cost to her own soul.—“Life and Death and Love in the Bayou” by Stephannie Tallent, art by Ashley Cassaday

Our exodus family awoke on the new world—a paradise inexplicably teeming with Earth life, the Promise fulfilled. But 154 of us are missing.…—“Five Days Until Sunset” by Lance Robinson, art by Steve Bentley

Spirits were supposed to lurk beneath the Lake of Death, hungry and patient and hostile to all life.—“Shaman Dreams” by S.M. Stirling, art by Dan dos Santos

A new app lets users see through the eyes of any human in history, but it’s not long before the secrets of the past catch up with the present.—“The Wall Isn’t a Circle” by Rosalyn Robilliard, art by Guelly Rivera

In the shadows of Teddy Roosevelt’s wendigo hunt, a Native American boy resolves to turn the tables on his captors, setting his sights on the ultimate prey—America’s Great Chief.—“Da-ko-ta” by Amir Agoora, art by Connor Chamberlain

When squids from outer space take over, a punk-rock P.I. must crawl out of her own miserable existence to find her client’s daughter—and maybe a way out.—“Squiddy” by John Eric Schleicher, art by Tyler Vail

Another outbreak? This time it’s a virus with an eighty percent infection rate that affects personality changes … permanently.—“Halo” by Nancy Kress, art by Lucas Durham

Planet K2-18b is almost dead, humanity is enslaved, and it’s Rickard’s fault.

Book review-

I have to say that this collection of stories is worth checking out if you want to be exposed to multiple writers’ works all at once and especially if you enjoy sci-fi! This is a wide variety of reads, some parts from the human’s perspective and some, not. Some stories are realistic, some are realistic (almost scarily so), and some humourous in its ridiculousness while others make you think.

I will say- I’m not a sci-fi reader. And some of these reads were hard to stomach in the start but for me- the more I read, the more I enjoyed. And saying this as a very rarely into sci-fi story reader, this is a beginnner friendly read. The illustrations are great and match the stories so well, and the audiobook narrator pulls out all the stops to make hearing this antropology enjoyable. I would definitely recommend checking this out!

I hope you enjoy this read! Thank you to Galaxy Press and bookinfluencers.com for my copy of the audiobook!

[nixalegos]

"Ah, love." A bright, overly amused smile crossed her lips as she watched him walk into the kitchen. "I have been told the most stunning tale -yet again." she chuckled softly, waving a hand at the imp trying to hide behind her shoulder.

"I walked in on the late night poker game, told him I wanted a cut for allowing his six buddies to sit at our table. They buggered off and I got a tale about how 'Zigup, King of Imps' has bested the mightiest of foes and is allowed his right to a game in our kitchen." She gestured dramatically, the amusement escalating further as she tried not to burst into a fit of laughter.

"Really? King of Imps now? We've stopped using Slayer of Kings?" He said as he 'shooed' Ziggup off her shoulder like a mundane housecat. Giving the demon time to leap off and land again with a chip on its tiny shoulder and a tiny scowl on its too wide face. "Yeah! You know, I don't demand much in tribute Boss! Me and the boys were talking and it's about time we..." Nix came to cross his ungauntleted arms. "We what?" He said deadpan before cutting a glance to Ty. "We're unionizing!" The imp said dramatically, chest out and proud. "My imps are unionizing." Nix said unimpressed. "Love my imps are unionizing for the right to play poker at our kitchen table." He said to the paladin. "Did you encourage this? They can't be let into the kitchen no. They let the Mo'arg in on their games, it'll ruin the countertops." Then to Ziggup he spoke. "The fact I let any of you have enough leeway to have card games is bad enough. You could be forced to walk back and forth endlessly on patrol, like most imps." The imps expression soured instantly. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to give you extra chocolate coins. You're going to go back to the others, and you're going to tell them unionizing was a success, and that you made great strides on their behalf." He said with a tired air. "You're keeping the card games in the romp room and you'll let Ty get to sit in when she wants." "But then we didn't get anything we don't already have! And we'll have to let her in to take our coins!" The imp said with a frown. "That's not any gains for the imps!" "But you'll have more chocolate coins then the rest of them." The warlock reminded his first imp. A moment passed, and the imp started to scamper back downstairs. "Victory for the imps! Victory for the Union! Ziggup, Slayer of Minion Disputes tastes success where all others would fall!" Was heard as the demon left. Nix came to pinch the bridge of his nose melodramatically and spoke quietly to Ty. "Let's just hope the sayaads don't start up next. I can't simply bribe them off if they push for some demands as a collective."

@tyleinth

[sparky-is-spiders]

They’re incredibly different from the movies. Don’t go into them expecting any similarities beyond names and locations. The dragons talk, Toothless is a bitchy housecat (and I love him for it) but they’re amazing and if you can get past the whiplash then it’s so, SO worth it.

The first few books are pretty episodic and semi-self contained. Stuff happens that carries over, but the plot doesn’t kick in big time until book 8. A lot of stuff from the early installments IS very important though, even if it isn’t clear until much later.

The books have a very fairy-tale, almost dream-like quality to them. It reminds me a little of the dragons I’d make up when I was younger tbh. The author said she was inspired by childhood memories of looking for dragons on the island she lived on as a kid and it really shines through. There’s so much wonder and whimsy to these books and I adore them. There’s a lot of stuff about hope and perseverance against overwhelming odds, and they can be quite beautiful and profound, especially later. There’s a lot that goes down and the main characters are really put through some shit. I don’t want to give too many spoilers, but it does get quite dark at points.

I don’t want to spoil too much, so I think I’ll stop here. I adore the books, and as much as I love the movies I wish they didn’t overshadow the original series. Personally I do enjoy the books more, but that may just be because I’ve spent more time with them than the movies. That being said, they’re so different that they’re not really comparable? I meant it when I said that the only similarities are the names of characters and locations. Some movie characters seem entirely made up whole-cloth (Astrid and Ruffnut) and even the ones who got carried over are totally different from their book versions. It’s probably better to approach it as a brand new property, as opposed to a different version of the movie properties.

Also, the audiobooks are free on youtube (narrated by David Tennant, if that helps) so if you wanna give the series a spin you can try those.

Tldr: The httyd books have almost nothing in common with the movies, but they’re wonderful and you should read them. Or listen to them on youtube (for free!)

Are the HTTYD books good and worth reading?

My most recent hyperfixation has been the How to Train Your Dragon series. And have been seeing some fanart of the books, however, I know that the movies/series are not faithful to the books. So I'm a bit hesitant but still curious.

For anyone who has read any of them and seen the movies/series content, are they a good read? I'm open to diferent even if I miss some of the elements of the movies/series, as long as it's good.

[abluescarfonwaston]

AO3 Fandom top hits: 

The Witcher: Shapeshifter! Jaskier, Thermodynamic Equibrium, Swordplay, MonsterFucker, Only Yours,  Scars,  Flowers and Pungent Tea, One Crown

Sherlock Holmes/The Witcher Crossover: The Ballad of John Watson

Spy x Family: Mission Complete, Lilacs and Cedarwood

Ace Attorney: They’re Idiots Your Honor, The boundaries of Life and Death, For Me its always been you, The Chessboard maker, Queer Eye

Shadowhunter: Love is the thing with feathers, The Angelic Core

Gerlion (game/Book verse):  Whoreson’s Flower, The Eternal Fire, Endgame,  Jaskier becomes Game Dandelion, Necromancer Dandelion, Take Me Instead, Philia before Eros

The Hexer Geraskier: Safe with You, First meetings, The Last Wish

MultiVerse AU: Meeting the Geralts, Reunion, Hanging out

Fluff/Soft:  Marry me, Marry Me (short), Mirror Mirror,  Lost in Translation, Winter Lodgings, High I love you,  Thermodynamic Equibrium, Cat Eyes, Endearments,  Failed Escape, Hair cuts,  Jaskier is Geralt’s Spaceheater, Kaer Morhen’s Library, Bandits are Friends, Bedtime Stories, Seek me out, Dancing, Jaskier Gardens, Valdo Ships it

Horny: Buff!Jaskier,  Swordplay, Unsheathed Blades,  Only Yours

Hurt/Comfort: Sensory Overload,  Winter Lodgings, Scars, Constrict your eyes, Jaskier Gets Sick, A tale of two masters, Autoclave (Valdo/Jaskier)

Angst: Immortality, A Little Sacrifice, Lettenhove Au 1, 2, 3,  Geralt’s literally toxic to touch, Flowers and Pungent Tea, One Crown, A tale of two masters, letters to you

Geraskefer: Hand in Unloveable Hand

Eskel/Jaskier: Swordplay, Unsheathed Blades, Part Incubus Jaskier

Aiden/Lambert: Potions, Bombs and Fishing, Aiden gets turned into a Cat

Non romantic Relationships: Lil Bleater loves Eskel, Baby Trans Geralt & Vesemir

Fic ideas: Buff!Jaskier, Double Doppler Geraskier, It’s too cold for Lambert/Jaskier, Jaskier doesnt know how to sow, Avatar AU, The practicality of Cat eyes, Secret Royal Jaskier, Pictures of You, Geralt is Underweight, Jaskier isn’t a Monsterfucker, Rapunzel Au, Don’t talk bad about yourself!, Which one’s Batman/Superman?, Merlin crossover, Housecats, Weatherman au, Danganronpa Au

Sherlock Holmes Crossover: The Ballad of John Watson

Shadowhunter Fics: Love is the thing with feathers, The Angelic Core

Spy X Family Fics: Mission Complete, Lullabies, Words scars and choices, Nite Lite, Lead me down Gently, Family Quirks, Forger Christmas

Ace Attorney Fics: Elevator Rides, For me it’s always been you, You never change, Day of Destiny, The Boundaries of Life and Death, The boundaries of life and death Deleted scene,  Bratworth to Dadworth in one easy Kay Faraday, Non-binary Edgeworth, run away with me, Black Locks, Miles Von Karma, Samurai and Cowboys,  They’re Idiots Your Honor, meet the robinsons au, Magical Girls au Summary; (Gender Bro), Kidwrightworth zoo trip, Greg coma au, Queer Eye, Fluffy No DL-6 collection, Logic Chess, Logic Chess Au, The chessboard maker, Fly the coop, Santa Edgeworth

[rustycottoncandy]

warmup Cocoa says hi

[lavenderboneswrites]

Siren Izaya x pirate captain Shizuo, any headcannons other than it being like the little mermaid but gay and darker.

Oooh oh ooohhhh ! Okay let me preface this with saying I absolutely LOVE everything and anything to do with pirates! One Piece, Black Sails, AC Black Flag (the greatest AC game ever), Pirates of the Caribbean, Treasure Planet, Treasure Island (the book), Muppets Treasure Island. Seriously anything that has pirates? Sign me the fuck up because I am a slut for that shit. If ya'll have any good pirate shows/books please rec me because I will devour that like the kraken devours ships. Just everything to do with pirates, the aesthetics, the language, the big ships, the clothes, the tales, sailing the seas and having adventures. The idea of freedom and fighting against authority. *Mwuah* chef's kiss.

Alright, now that's out of the way I have to admit @scrambledshizaya and me have discussed a Disney The Little Mermaid au at length. Mostly just imaging merman Prince Izaya loving humans and being fascinated by them and longing to be 'part of their world'. Shizuo is of course Prince Eric and I love the thought of Shinra as Sebastian.

Anyway for a darker, pirate version. Yohohoho oh boy I gotta stop from making this just pirate shizaya. Okay so pirate captain Shizuo. He definitely would be considered a beast of the seas, a terrifying pirate with an incredibly high bounty with stories of terror and mystery surrounding him. Did he defeat the Kraken? Who knows? (I can see Shizuo wrestling the Kraken barehanded and yeeting it into the neighbouring sea). Anyway, there’s the tale of his battle with the great siren. Pirates, like sailors, are incredibly superstitious and the legend of siren’s bewitching men and luring them to Davy Jones’s locker is well known.

Izaya is one of these mythical creatures, obsessed with bewitching human’s with his beauty, words, and above all his siren call. However he loves humans and sometimes will forget to actually kill them cause he’s too busy just talking to them. Most actually die from their own stupidity (trying to fight a siren in open water is not a smart move), and really that makes Izaya pout cause he wasn’t done playing. (I imagine siren Izaya kind of like a mermaid but with a leopard shark tail and a bit more murky and dark, with vicious claws and shark like teeth (just imagine his wide lil grin with all those teeth omg bb). (I don’t know a whole heap about siren’s to be honest).

One night at sea, snow falls like infinity around the ship and Shizuo hears the siren’s call. He takes a harpooning boat out to investigate, going alone as the rest of his crew are much too frightened. Izaya swims up to him, very interested in this strange, unafraid human. Shizuo just grins as he spots him, thinking he’s never seen such a pretty prize before.

And Shizuo is the one human who is not affected by Izaya and that makes him incredibly annoyed. Shizuo just captures him in a net and Izaya is hissing like a little drowned housecat. A siren is a fine pet for the King of Pirates after all.

[blackaquokat]

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 1)

Fandom: A Heist with Markiplier/Who Killed Markiplier

Pairing: Prison Attorney (Yancy x Y/N District Attorney)

Summary: In which circumstances occur and the assistant district attorney ends up in the same prison as a certain inmate who might be their only chance at survival. 

A/N: Yes, it’s been months. I’m sorry. I had trouble finishing the last chapters so I put off posting it, because I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging if I never finished, and then I got hit with a major bout of depression regarding my writing and a bunch of other stuff in my life.

But, I’m feeling a lot better about myself and my writing, so I thought I’d share what I did have of this fic. Yes, this is the same nonbinary DA from my other series. Please let me know what you guys think!

Many thanks to @timelords-13

---

It’s unthinkable. Except that it isn’t, because it happened.

You’ve been framed for a crime you didn’t commit. 

And the frame job is good. Enough to have you arrested. Enough to taint what little good reputation you’d cultivated in the city as a public servant working under the District Attorney.

But not good enough to convince your closest friend. 

“Listen,” Damien reassures you, just before you’re hauled off to prison, “Don’t worry, we won’t leave you in there. I’m on this, Mark is on this—”

“Why should I be reassured that your B-list actor friend is interested in my case?”

Damien rolls his eyes. “I understand your doubt, but Mark is well-connected, my friend. His social capital rivals mine. I’m sure he can get a dedicated detective interested in clearing your name.”

“Why do you expect me to trust Mark’s judgment in detectives—”

“My friend, retain some of your optimism, or at least have some faith in me, please? And, listen, while you’re in prison, Make. Friends. Or alliances, at least. You’re going to need someone to keep you alive.”

“What, you don’t think I can look after myself?” 

You knew he was right, he is right, but if you didn’t give him a little bit of a hard time like you normally would, you would have lost what little cool you’re retaining.

And so here you are. Being escorted into prison. A non-white, not-quite-male prosecution lawyer. 

Great. Just great.

And apparently your reputation precedes you. Once you’ve been processed and properly stripped of almost all your personal possessions (you managed to sneak a picture of your mother into the pocket of your jumpsuit), you find yourself shoved into the outside yard and on the receiving end of stares from just about every prisoner milling about.

Your natural prickly bravery is warring with your fear of being in a place like this with no chance of protection. You find the most uninhabited corner of the yard and lean against the fence, hands in your pockets. Touching the photo in your pocket helps to ground your pounding heart.

Make friends. Easy for Damien to say. He’s not the one with the personality of a housecat only slightly used to human interaction, but that’s what happens when you dare to go against the status quo from the get-go and refuse to take shit from anyone about it.

The big difference between you and Damien is in your political approaches. Damien is transparent, kind, honest, and has enough social capital that the entire city adores him. Even the tabloids don’t dare to trash his reputation and any attempts to do so have fallen flat.

You, on the other hand, are far more cutthroat and firm in your approach. You emphasize justice and cracking down on the criminal element in the city, but you don’t leave out corrupt officials either. You’ve put just as many white collar criminals away as blue collar, and you’ve done so without any particular bias. You’ve created the reputation of an incorruptible crusader, but not someone who pursues a case without being absolutely sure the perp is guilty.

Hence your cynicism about the likelihood of anyone liking you enough to a) keep you alive here in a prison full of criminals you prosecuted or b) clear your name and get you out of prison in the first place.

“Hey!”

You immediately tense up. Please don’t be talking to me, please don’t be talking to me—

“Hey, you’re the attorney that put me in here!”

Jesus Crucified Christ. 

You make eye contact with the guy approaching you and, sure enough, you recognize him. A former gang member who’d taken a side job as a human trafficker. Who’d have thought even gangs looked down on that sort of thing? It was thanks to the gang leader himself that this guy was charged in the first place.

“Trent Newman,” you greet nonchalantly. “Long time, no see.”

Newman’s eyes narrow dangerously. He moves toward you like he’s got a shiv in his pocket. What’s the turnover on dead guards and prisoners here? You’ve tried to find out in the past, but the Warden who’d earned the nickname “Murder-Slaughter” didn’t exactly have an open book policy into the kind of prison he ran.

“Well, looks like my luck is turning around!” His hand reaches into his pocket. Shit. Sometimes you hate it when you’re right. “I’ve got something I’ve wanted to give to you since the trial, and now I’ve got my chance!”

You move slowly into a defensive position. Getting shivved on Day One of your prison stint won’t look good for you. “You sure you want to do this now, Newman? With the guards around? With this many witnesses?”

“Do I look like I care?” Newman spits back.

“Well, youse should, shouldn’t ya?”

Newman whirls around and your attention focuses on the guy who just popped up behind him. This inmate has multiple tattoos on his neck and arms, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his biceps.

“But, c’mon, Boss, this ain’t just any criminal, this is an attorney, this is the attorney—”

“I thought I told you, Newbie Newman. No one gets shivved here without my knowin’ ‘bout it. So why don’t youse go occupy youself elsewhere whilst I welcome our new guest?” This guy’s tone is casual enough, but only an idiot would miss the outright threat underlining his words. 

Newman is an idiot, but he’s not that clueless. He tosses one last glare your way before storming off.

Once Newman is gone, this guy saunters up to you with all the confidence of someone who’s been here for too many years to count. “I’ve heard of youse, I think. You’re that big-time attorney somebody, huh? I’ve got quite a few inmates here who’ve got youse to thank for their residence.”

This isn’t off to a promising start, delayed shivving notwithstanding. You wait for him to get to his point.

He inclines his head at you. “Not much of a talker, huh? That’s fine. I loves to chat it up. The names Yancy, by the by.” He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. There looks to be a pack of cigarettes stuffed into his rolled up sleeve. “So, what are youse doin’ in here? Get a little tired of following that justice book of youse’s? Take a bribery from the defense? Get a little snort of the good stuff?”

“Frame job,” you answer, against your better judgment.

“So you finally snapped and framed a guy? Can’t say I’m surprised, you lawyer types—”

“No, I was framed,” you correct. You’re not sure why. It’s not like it will matter to this guy. 

Yancy’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Is that right?” When you don’t respond, he leans forward, his eyes squinting at you. “So you tellin’ me youse innocent, then?”

Your brow lifts at him in response. “Would you believe me if I did say that?”

Yancy blinks at you like a baffled cat. He leans even closer, sniffs a few times, and straightens away from you. “Yes, yes I think I could. What were youse framed for?”

Wait? What? Does guilt smell like something? Your arms cross over your chest. “Uh, well, I don’t have any proof on me—”

“This ain’t the kinda place lookin’ for proof, just get on with youse’s tale, huh?”

Well then. This wasn’t exactly how you expected to tell your life story for the first time. This day is already shaping up to be far different from your expectations. 

“Another attorney at the office was on the take. Connor Smith.” His office nickname had been “Pit-stain,” but that’s not exactly pertinent to your story. “Leaking information and taking bribes from another public official that I’m pretty sure is embezzling from the charity he’s running. Maybe even funding the new drug empire in the city. I only had been investigating off the books for a week before Smith ended up dead, and the police found evidence implicating me.”

Yancy listens to all of this quietly, nodding along and stroking his chin with two fingers. “I see, I see…” Then he shrugs. “Well, that’s unfortunate for youse, but hey, life’s an unfair bowl of cream, ain’t it? So, while you get comfortable in youse’s cell, I can show youse the ropes of this place—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you interrupt. “You’re making it sound like I’m never getting out.”

Yancy blinks at you again. “Well, why would youse wanna leave?”

Is he...is he serious? “Why would I want to stay in a prison full of inmates who want me dead?”

“What, like that jackass Newman?” Yancy scoffs. “Look, Gorgeous, many of youse’s arrests are happy to be here. No water bills, hooch wine, no nine-to-five job eating their mind away.” He clicks his tongue and winks. “What more could you ask for?”

Well for starters, you’d like wine not made out of toilet water, but that’s not the point right now. “My freedom, maybe? Because I’m innocent?”

“Hey, what makes you think I’m not innocent myself?”

“Are you?”

“No, but it’s the principal of the thing, ya know? Innocent until proven guilty, and all that nonsense!”

You can’t help it. You laugh. This is so goddamn surreal, and you’re still utterly baffled that this is your life for the foreseeable future. Your laughter catches Yancy off guard and you wave your hand dismissively. “You’re right, you’re right. Still, I think I’ll focus on staying alive until my name is cleared.”

Yancy’s eyes narrow at you again. “What, you think you’re too good for this place, is that it?”

The anger in his voice is confusing. “No? I just...have…” You shrug helplessly. “I have people I need to get back to.”

The anger leaks out of Yancy’s posture as a look of understanding comes over his face. “Ah, I see! Youse gotta piece on the outside, huh? Well, Gorgeous, that’s what conjugal visits are for, I don’t see why that would hold youse up—”

“No, God, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean...ugh, fine.” Against your better judgment, again, you pull your mom’s picture out of your pocket and show Yancy. It’s one of the few you have of the both of you together. Happy. Smiling. 

Much to your horror, Yancy yanks the picture right out of your grip. “Hey!”

He skips out of your reach without taking his eyes off of your mom’s image. “Youse the family type, huh, is that it?”

You snatch the picture out of his hand and stuff it back into your pocket. “What if I am?”

“Hey, no need to act all defensively there, Gorgeous,” Yancy reassures. There’s a glint of...something in his eyes. You’d dare to call it regret if you didn’t know better. “But lemme tell you what I’ve learned since coming here, yeah?” He leans in just close enough to make you uncomfortably aware of his soapy smell. The last person to be this physically close to you was Damien. “You’ll forget about youse’s familial bonds soon enough. The past doesn’t survive within these walls, you hear?”

He pulls away from you just as the prison bell rings and you suddenly feel like you can breathe again. “Anyways, you’ll change youse’s mind soon enough. Once you forget about your worries and strife, youse’ll fit right into this luxurious place.”

The man jogs inside with a gang of inmates surrounding him before you can respond.

You don’t see Yancy again until breakfast the next morning.

After a night of anxious sleep on the bunk underneath the cellmate who barely spoke two words to you (you’re pretty sure this is another criminal you condemned in court), you weren’t really sure what to expect at mealtime. You came in long after dinner the day before and your conversation with Yancy left you wrongfooted for many reasons.

(Of course, first things first, you have to deal with the public showers. Hopefully that’ll be the worst part of this experience.)

You settle at a corner table all by yourself. Breakfast consists of a runny but hot oatmeal and a small carton of milk. Your appetite is nonexistent, but seeing as the food situation might not improve anytime soon, you take small bites anyway. You can’t afford to let your strength wane from hunger.

“Are you the framed lawyer?”

You almost choke on your oatmeal as you spin around in your seat and see a giant of a man standing behind you, his forearms crossed. There’s a spider web tattoo on his bald head and a long bushy beard on his chin. “I...might be?”

He nods and sits next to you. The seat creaks underneath him. He pulls a fork out of the pocket of his jumpsuit and takes a giant bite out of your oatmeal. “Boss told me to make sure no one bothers you. The name’s Jimmy.”

By “boss” does he mean Yancy? Why the hell would Yancy bother with giving you a personal guard? 

“...oh. Thanks?” 

Jimmy nods gravely. “I do what the boss tells me. He’d be here himself, but he had business to tend to with the warden.”

You have nothing to say to that, so you continue eating your oatmeal and continue to just let Jimmy eat off your plate. He asks for your milk carton and you hand it off without a word. 

It’s not until breakfast is about to end that the man of the hour himself appears. “G’morning, g’morning, Legal Eagle!” Yancy greets. “How are you and Jimmy the Pickle here getting along?”

“They gave me their milk!” Jimmy reports with a toast of your milk carton.

“Oh, a generous lawyer?” Yancy looks you up and down. “First one to come to this place. That’ll be all, Jimmy, thank you.”

When Jimmy goes to leave, turning back one last time to smile at you with a wave of the milk carton, Yancy takes his place the next seat down from you, feet coming up to rest in the space between the two of you.

“Dare I ask why you assigned me a bodyguard?” Suspicious as you are, you try to convey through tone that you have no problem with having one.

“Can’t have a new inmate die right off the bat, now can I?” Yancy pulls a bread roll out of his pocket and tosses it to you. You catch it in surprise. “Casts a bad look on me. No one dies here without my say-so.”

You take a bite out of the bread roll. It’s a little stale, but it’s much preferable to the oatmeal. “So I’m more useful to you alive right now?” You’re not offended. At this point, you’ll take what you can get until you’re released from Happy Trails Penitentiary. 

“You could say that.” Yancy blows a loose strand of hair out of his face. “I was just talking to the warden about your cellmate situation.”

“What about it?”

“Well,” the bell rings, signalling the end of breakfast, and Yancy winks as he swings his feet off and hurries away again, “you’ve got a new one, of course!”

You don’t think much of this until that evening. In the meantime, your first job is in the kitchens washing dishes. There’s a pleasant routine to doing a chore you’re familiar with. The guard in charge of this job is more than terrifying, but he leaves you alone once he sees how quick and efficient you are.  (You’re not so naive as to forget that prison guards can be even more dangerous than the inmates.) 

Jimmy plops next to you again at lunch and your time in the yard passes, miraculously, without incident.

When it’s time to return to your cell for the night, you see an unfamiliar pair of legs dangling from the top bunk. Then you see the face at the other end of the body.

“What,” you begin with no small amount of suspicion, “the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what youse talkin’ about, Legal Eagle,” Yancy (because of course it is) responds in a too-innocent voice. 

Looks like that nickname is sticking. Great. 

“Listen,” Yancy continues when he sees that you’re not at all convinced at this ‘coincidence’ that has taken place not even twenty-four hours after your arrival. “Like youse said. There are plenty of inmates here who’d like to see you dead. I can hold off most of them, no problemo. But a few are just whack job enough to be out of my hands. They barely listen to the warden, let alone me. Henceforthing, I say that the best bet is to keep an eye on youse myself. I’m a rather busy bee durin’ the daytime, so I’ll be takin’ the night shift, I will.” 

He shifts around the bunk until his top half is dangling upside down, right in front of your face. “Unless you’d rather someone sneak in at night and stick ya in youse sleep.”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you retort. “But why put in this much effort to protect a new inmate, and more than that, a prosecuting attorney?” A thought occurs to you and your eyes widen. “Wait. Do you...do you know something about my case?”

Even upside down, Yancy’s face is inscrutable. “I guess you’ll have to figure that out for youself, don’t ya, Gorgeous?” He lifts himself back onto the bed and crosses  his ankles. “Why don’t you get some rest, huh? The guard in charge of the kitchens doesn’t take too kindly to cranky inmates who don’t appreciate the work they’ve been given.”

You stand there, glaring at him, for another several seconds before dropping to the floor and doing fifty push-ups. Because you didn’t do your usual twenty-five last night and also because you’re not just going to take this guy’s word as gospel. You’ll wait until he’s asleep first before getting to bed.

--

Thank you for reading! Please relbog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

Link to Chapter 2 is here!

@starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @beereblogsstuff , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @marki-dumb , @withjust-a-bite , @raimeyl , @scribbeetle , @its-dari , @neverisadork , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @axolittle-boi , @wildfandom , @shrinkthisviolet , @purple-anxiety-blog , @conceitedink , @skidspace

[master-ray5]

Fairy Tale Challenge: Miwako’s Bedtime Story

I finally got around to finishing my entry to the @fairytalechallenge​. This is one of my last few fanfictions. I have other projects which need my attention and sadly fanfiction is a bit of a distraction. Enjoy this little cute story. 

Picture source: http://fanartsailormoonbythaiartistfan.tumblr.com/post/135649421834/kunzite-his-child-he-embraced-his-daughter

Fanfiction link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13631011/1/Miwako-s-Bedtime-Story

***

First off, here is the‌ ‌guide‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌names‌ ‌I‌ ‌use‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌Shitennou‌ ‌in‌ ‌this ‌story.‌ As they are now married men, they have taken the names of their beloved wives. Jadeite=Hino ‌Taito‌ Nephite=Kino ‌Masato‌ Zoisite=Mizuno ‌Saitou‌ ‌ Kunzite=Aino ‌Shinn‌

Also, I’m using the daughters of the Senshi introduced in the “Parallel Moon” story but I will change their names. Frankly, I find adding Jr. at the end of the names was a tad lazy writing (not even addressing how the girls all look like tiny cloned versions of their moms). So the names I use will be: Minako Jr.=Miwako Ami Jr.=Mami Rei Jr.=Reina Makoto Jr.=Makino Kousagi is still the same as it fits in the style I’m going for.

O.o.O.o.O Miwako’s Bedtime Story O.o.O.o.O       Royal Advisor and Leader of the Shitennou, Kunzite had just finished a long day of diplomacy and aiding King Endymion. His wife, Lady Venus, was helping Neo-Queen Serenity with an ambassador, who was known to be very dry and boring, so his only concern for her safety was if she somehow managed to die of boredom. Despite his long day, he had managed to return to his wing of the place just in time. He had to see the other woman in his life.     He opened the door to the sitting room of his wing of the palace. Upon entering this area, he no longer thought of himself as anything other than Aino Shinn, a man like any other. He was surprised to find Hilda, the housekeeper, slumped out on the couch, looking exhausted as if she just climbed Tokyo Tower with her bare hands.     “Are you alright Hilda-san?” Shinn asked as he dropped his briefcase on a table and moved to check on the woman.     “Sir, I thought you and I had an arrangement,” Hilda began, draping her arm over her eyes as if facing the world was too difficult. “I would continue to assist with watching the young miss when you and Lady Venus worked late but in return, you promised me you would reduce said girl’s sugar intake.”     “We did,” Shinn chuckled, realizing the housekeeper was exhausted from attempting to keep track of his daughter. “She is just naturally full of energy. She gets it from her mother.”     “She is exhausting is what she is,” Hilda insisted as she pulled herself off the couch and began to head towards the exit. “I highly suggest you find a convent to send her, or else she will be nothing but trouble when she is a teenager.”     “Then she will be exactly like her mother. Good night Hilda-san,” Shinn snapped as he took off his jacket and undid his tie. He could tolerate Hilda insinuating his daughter was a handful but to insinuate she was anything more than a spirited child was where he drew the line. He knew very well Miwako was the spitting image of her mother and the energy she possessed would be one of her greatest gifts. Somewhat comfortable for the evening, Shinn made his way through the halls until he came across his daughter’s room. He knocked on the door before turning the handle and stepping in. “Miwako-chan, how are you?”      “Venus Love Me Chain!” A voice shouted before the snap of a whip slapped against the wall and inches from Shinn’s face. Before the weapon could recoil, Shinn stepped on it and kept it in place.     “Daddy! I’m trying to fight the evil guys!” Miwako insisted as she tugged at the whip to free it from her father’s foot. The comparisons to her mother were apt, as Miwako looked exactly like when Minako did as a child, even with her own red bow in her hair. Though her outfit didn’t look much like Sailor Venus, as the young girl had cobbled together a makeshift Sailor costume with an off-color skirt, part of her school uniform, and large sunglasses. “I need my weapon back!”     “That will be enough of that. Where did you find this?” Shinn asked as down looked at the whip, already knowing the answer to the question.     “In your and mommy’s room,” Miwako replied with a proud smile. “Do you have it in case some monsters show up before mommy can transform?”     “Yyyyyyyyyes!” Shinn lied through his teeth. “That’s exactly it, honey. You are so clever.”     “Ain’t I,” Miwako glowed as she continued to tug at the whip, still hoping her father would let her play with it. “Come on, let me play more.”     “Sorry my little love,” Shinn insisted as he reached down, grabbed the whip, and tugged it from her hands with ease. He vowed to find a better hiding spot for the item when he had time later. “Now, why don’t you get your pajamas on and I’ll tell you a story.”     “Really? MMMM….okay,” Miwako agreed before letting go of the weapon and rushing into the bathroom. In no time at all, Miwako had slipped into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and hopped into bed. “I’m ready.”       “So you are,” Shin began as he pulled the covers over Miwako’s legs and took a seat on the bed. Making sure she was comfortable, Shinn reached up to her hair and untied the bow on top. “Once upon a time, there was a little girl who wore a…”     “Red riding hood,” Miwako interrupted with a smile. “I heard it before. What else you got?”         “Okay…,” Shinn groaned. “There was once a selfish prince who...”     “Beauty and the Beast!” Miwako yawned. Not from exhaustion but because she was not amused. “Next!”     Shinn did his best to maintain his composure but just like her mother, Miwako had a way of pushing his buttons. “A girl trapped in…”     “Rapunzel,” Miwako answered, not giving her father an opportunity to continue. “You need to learn some new stories, daddy.”     “Fine!” Shinn hissed before taking a deep breath and managed to regain his cool. “Let’s try this. I’ll make up a story for you. Feel free to just interject any suggestions you have as I go.      “Yeah,” Miwako agreed with a smile. “That does sound fun.”     Shinn cleared his throat and began. “Once there was a lady named…”    “Mommy!” Miwako blurted out. “Make mommy a part of the story.”     “Sure why not,” Shinn smiled, admiring how much his young daughter looked up to her mother. He couldn’t help but remember how when Minako was pregnant she had been worried that her daughter would have the same strained relationship she had with her own mother. Instead, Minako was blessed as Miwako had nothing but love and respect for her. “A woman named Minako who was working as a…”     “Housekeeper,” Miwako suggested. “Like Cinderella!”     “So you want me to tell you Cinderella except it stars your mother?” Shinn chuckled. “Now, who’s not being original”     “I’m sure we will find a way to change it,” Miwako replied as she snuggled into the covers and looked up at her father with a warm expression. “Just keep going.”     Shinn shrugged, leaned against the headboard of the bed, and pulled his daughter close. “So, once upon a time, there was a woman named Minako who was working as a housekeeper for her wicked stepmother. What should we name her?”     Miwako thought for a moment before she volunteered, “Beryl?”     “Beryl?” Shinn’s heart skipped a beat when his daughter said the name. “Where...where did you hear that name?”       “Mommy said it was the name of an evil queen who once kidnapped you, daddy,” Miwako answered as she snuggled closer to her father when she mentioned the word “kidnapped.” “They must have been really bad to kidnap you, daddy.”     “You have no idea,” Shinn agreed, his heart

O.o.O.o.O     The ringing of the bells of her alarm clock woke Minako up. It was a new device but the only reason she had been given such a high priced gift was to ensure she got up in time to get everything done before her stepmother, Beryl, awoke. With her father no longer around, Minako had become a slave to her widowed stepmother.     “Meow” Artemis called as he jumped on Minako’s bed. He was an old pure white housecat known for keeping the mice problem at bay. He nuzzled Minako in an attempt to get her to wake up.     “Oh Artemis,” Minako “How I wish you could talk, perhaps even give me a magical item which would allow me to turn into a warrior and fight for love and justice and someday even reunite with my soulmate. Oh well. I have no choice but to serve my wicked stepmother.”       Minako went to work getting herself ready for the day. She combed her hair, dressed, and put on her shoes. She made her way to the kitchen and after a breakfast of crusty bread and a glass of wine, she began her duty of servitude to her wicked stepmother. She cleaned the kitchen, prepared breakfast and made sure the tray was lined up  as she pushed it towards her step mother’s room.     She was just about to knock when she heard a voice on the other side.     “The prince is looking for a bride. I intend to use this opportunity to brainwash him,” Beryl cackled as she talked to her subordinate. “Soon Prince Kunzite will bow to me and then you will give the reward you so rightfully deserve.”     “Excellent plan my lady,” Adonis Danburite commented. He had been an advisor to the Kingdom but had become sick of the way the royal family seemed to ignore any of his advice lately. Adonis had feared for his livelihood and had decided to reach out to Lady Beryl, a woman known for her sinister ways, for advice.     “Oh no,” Minako gasped as she heard what her evil stepmother was planning. “I have to warn someone!”     “What was that young lady?” Adonis asked as he opened the door and stared at Minako with cold eyes. “Lady Beryl. I do believe your stepdaughter has been eavesdropping on our conversation. You discipline her better.”     “Your right!” Minako admitted. “I have heard what you are planning to do to Prince Kunzite and I won’t let you.”     “You have been nothing but a pain since your father died!” Beryl shouted, grabbing a vase from the nearby table. Minako ducked at the last minute as the vase shattered on the wall behind her. “And I never cared for your spinach puffs! Never! Now lock her in her room so we can go take care of the prince.”    Before Minako could make a break for it, Adonis grabbed her wrist and restrained her. With the help of Beryl, the two locked Minako in her room and left for the Castle. Minako tried to break down the door but no matter what she tried, it wouldn’t budge. Tired and discouraged, Minako fell on her bed and began to sweep.     “Oh Artemis!” Minako cried as she felt the cat jump onto the bed. “What am I going to do? The prince is going to be corrupted and I can’t do anything about it!”     “There is something you can do,” Artemis announced before he leapt into the air. In a flash of light, Artemis transformed into a man in a white suit with white long hair. “Hello Minako. I am your Fairy God Cat.” O.o.O.o.O     “This sounds too much like Cinderella,” Miwako interrupted as she shifted in bed. “Change it up a bit. Also can I have a drink of water?”     “Sure, one second,” Shinn replied as she got up, filled a cup in the little girl’s bathroom, and returned to the Miwako’s bed. “Also, did Cinderella have a Sailor scout in it?”     “No,” Miwako answered as she took a sip of the water.     “Then you haven’t heard this story before,” Shinn commented as he sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard, “Now where was I?” O.o.O.o.O     “My Fairy God Cat?” Minako wondered, still shocked by Artemis’ new appearance. “I wasn’t aware that was a thing.”     “Well it is. I am here to give you the power you need to defeat your stepmother,” Artemis explained as he snapped his fingers. In the palm of his hand, the transformation pen of Venus formed. “Here, take this. Holdit over your head and shout “Venus Power.” It will allow you to become a warrior capable of defeating Beryl. Or at least help you break out of this room.”       “If you say so. Venus power!” Minako shouted as she was surrounded by a shower of light. In the blink of an eye she transformed into Sailor Venus, but not one most people knew. Instead, she wore a yellow Sack-back gown, white gloves, white stockings, and orange glass slippers. “Incredible!”     “You have become the warrior of love, Sailor Venus. Now,” Artemis clapped his hands together, getting Minako’s attention. “Point at the door and scream, “Crescent Beam!””     “Crescent Beam!” Minako yelled, A blast of energy erupted from fingertips and created a giant hole in the center of the door.     “Impressive,” Artemis complimented, seeing how strong Minako was. “Now use one of the horses in the stable and ride to the castle as fast as you can.”     “Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” Minako asked, stopping herself before she ran from the room.     “No, I’m going to stay here,” Artemis commented as he shook his head. “That way it’s easier to tell this story. Less characters to keep track of.”   O.o.O.o.O     “Dad,” Miwako whined as she tugged at her father’s arm.       “Well it is,” Shinn shrugged. O.o.O.o.O     Making her way out of the house as fast as she could, Minako saddled her horse, Bbuttercup, and rode to the castle. When she arrived, she found the place on high alert with guards at every possible entrance. As she rode up, she was stopped by a guard with a spear.     “Halt who goes there?” The soldier asked, captured by the beauty of the rider.     “I am Sailor Venus, a warrior of love,” Minako announced. “I have come to save the Prince from a wicked witch who wishes to control him for her own gains.”     “You are too late,” The soldier announced. “The witch was here and made off with the Prince’s...with the prince’s…” O.o.O.o.O     “His smile!” Miwako suggested.     “The prince’s smile?” Shinn asked, unsure of where his daughter got such a suggestion.     “Yeah, I actually asked mommy once if a witch stole your smile,” Miwako admitted, as she snuggled closer to her dad. “You don’t smile that much daddy. When I asked mommy my question, she said “its because daddy is trying to be strong to protect us and only smiles when we are around.””     “Well yeah, I guess you're right,” Shinn agreed, a bit disheartened. He had heard the comments by social media and online articles. “Lord Kunzite is so cold.” “What does a warm person like Lady Venus see in someone like Lord Kunzite?” “Instant credits to anyone who gets a picture of Lord Kunzite smiling.” Saito had made the joke once, “You have a resting angry face.” He didn’t do it intentionally. It often became focused when at work and often forgot to smile. “Daddy will try to smile more around you and your mother.”     “It’s okay daddy,” Miwako insisted, resting her head on her father’s chest. “I don't mind. I know you have to be strong because you have to protect me and mommy from monsters.”     “Your mother has fought even more monsters, little Miwako, “ Shinn lamented as he thought about how many battles his wife had fought over the years and how it seemed he could only do so much to help. Yet, through all of it, she somehow managed to keep a smile on her face. It was part of what made them so strong as a couple. Kunzite helped his wife stay focused and Minako helped her husband find joy. “I will find a way to try and smile more. Anyways, let’s see, after she heard about the Prince…,”   O.o.O.o.O     “She must have escaped to the family cabin on the coast,” Minako announced as she rode as fast as she could towards her destination. “I will make sure to save the Prince.”     Minako made it to the coast in less than an hour and dismounted the horse on a hill which allowed her to look down at the cabin. She noticed a light in the window.     “Time to bust in and save the day,” Minako announced to herself.     “I hate to burst your bubble,” Adonis growled as she snuck up behind her, grabbed her wrists, and bound them with a chain. “But you are caught.”     “Oh come on,” Minako groaned as Adonish dragged her to the cabin. Soon, Minako was kneeling in front of her stepmother who sat in a chair by a roaring fire, holding a glowing pink gem.      “Welcome dear stepdaughter,” Beryl called as she caressed the gem with her fingers. “This is what you came for. The emotions of the young prince. His youthful energy and his very happiness is here in my finger tips.”     “Give it to me,” Minako demanded as she tried to struggle against her shackles.     “What are you hoping?” Beryl asked, shaking her head at Minako. “Give this back to the prince and he will fall in love with you at first sight? Such a way of starting a relationship will only end in dirovce or having a relationship with your riding instructor     “Well I thought I would use returning his happiness as more of an icebreaker, then maybe go for tea,” Minako speculated. “Take it one step at time, might try wine tasting,”     “Silence!” Beryl roared, “I don’t care to hear about your ridiculous plans which are never going to come true anyways. Now turn to stone!”     With a wave of her hand, Beryl cast a spell on Minako causing her body to slowly turn to stone. The spell started at her feet, moved to her legs, and had soon turned her lower half into stone. It looked like she was at the end of her rope. O.o.O.o.O     “Oh no!” Miwako cried as she sat up in bed and looked her father in the eyes with concern. “How is she going to get out of this?”     “Yes, how would she get out?” Shinn wondered aloud. Truth be told he never was one for creative works. He was more the logistic one of the group. Saitou had written a few novels and Taito managed to fill an entire wing of a museum with his work as a painter over the years. Shinn’s most creative work was when he had a chance to enjoy photography every once in a blue moon. Even then, they were mostly landscaping shots and times Minako felt photogentc. He was at a loss of how to save his wife in this imaginary story he was telling. “How would you end the story?”     “Well she needs help,” Miwako decided, putting a finger to her chin like she was truly contemplating what should happen next. “Someone who could save her. Um..I know! What if Mini Sailor Venus came to help.”     “Mini Sailor Venus?” Shinn chuckled, realizing Miwako was talking about herself. “So you are going to save your mom? Sure, why not.”   O.o.O.o.O     “Hold it right there Beryl!” A voice announced from the entrance to the cabin. Standing there was a smaller version of Sailor Venus. “I am Mini Sailor Venus! In the name of Future Venus, I’ll punish you with the power of love! Catch mom!”     “Mom?” Minako wondered as the smaller version of her threw a bottle. The projectile hit her stone legs, broke, and covered her with a glimmering blue liquid. The liquid instantly turned her legs back to normal. Able to stand, Minako leapt away from Beryl and Adonis and stood close to Mini Sailor Venus. “I never gave birth to you.”     “Not yet you haven’t,” Mini Sailor Venus explained as she pulled out a key she just happened to have on hand and unlocked Minako’s manacles. “I have come from the future to not only help you escape and return the prince’s happiness, but also I have come to help to tell you Beryl’s secret weakness.” O.o.O.o.O     “Secret Weakness?” Shinn asked, unsure of what his daughter was talking about. “I wasn’t aware Beryl had a secret weakness. What is it?”     “Shiitake mushrooms!” Miwako shivered at the thought of them. “She’ll eat them and immediately pass out because of the bad taste.”     “Shiitake mushrooms?” Shinn smirked as he shook his head. “You are so your mother’s daughter. Okay, Mini-Sailor Venus, having brought shiitake mushrooms, threw one into Beryl’s mouth with a single elegant toss. Beryl, overwhelmed by the terrible taste, fainted and was no longer a threat. Wait, how would they beat Adonis?”     “Simple! Twin Crescent Beams!” Miwako cried, bouncing to her feet, and recreating her mother’s attack. “Crescent Beam! BOOM! And then he explodes into a billion pieces!”     “Okay, okay settle down,” Shinn appealed, pulling his daughter to the bed and tucking her back under the covers. “So with Adonis and Beryl defeated, Sailor Mini-Venus returned to the future and Sailor Venus returned the prince’s happiness. Back to normal, Prince Kunzite was ever grateful to Minako. The two started dating, eventually leading to them getting married, and having a beautiful girl named Miwako. The end.”     “I liked that story,” Miwako admitted as she slowly started to fall asleep. The sudden burst of action to recreate the Crescent Beam had been the last of the energy the little girl had in her reserves. Her eyes fluttered in a desperate attempt to stay open. “Hey, papa...How was the real Queen Beryl defeated?     “She…,” Shinn stopped himself as he remembered witnessing the incident through a psychic sensation despite being locked in the form of a stone. The image of Minako plunging her sword into the witch's stomach. O.o.O.o.O     It was not until years after his return, on the night of their wedding she confessed her dark secret. After making love and consummating their marriage, a dark expression crossed his new wife’s face, as she felt the need to confess to her husband.     “There’s something I promised I’d tell you when we were married,” Minako admitted as she looked down and buried her face in her Shinn’s chest, a bit afraid of how he would react. "The fight with Queen Beryl. I...I was happy I killed her. I still am and I hate that I am."     “Never feel a shred of guilt or shame for ridding the world of that monster,” Shinn answered as she wrapped his arms around his bride. “You did what you had to. We are warriors. Our hands have to be dirty so the innocent will not have to suffer under the darkness. Also, I want you to remember, there is nothing you can ever do to make me stop loving you.”   O.o.O.o.O     “They beat her with teamwork,” Shinn answered with a little white lie. It was as much of an answer he felt Miwako was able to handle. It was half true as part of how the Sailor Senshi had been able to defeat Beryl. “All thanks to your mom leading the way.”     “Hmm, Mommy’s awesome,” Miwako hummed as she laid her head on her father’s chest and drifted off to sleep. Shinn stayed by the girl’s side and gently stroked her hair. He was so lost in the moment he didn’t even hear the door open or see a familiar figure approach until the newcomer was at the edge of the bed.     “I go away for the evening only to find you in bed with another woman,” Minako teased low enough so as not to wake Miwako. “Did you two have fun?”     “What can I say she has a hold on me,” Shinn admitted, as he admired how good his wife looked in the dinner gown she had worn when she aided the Queen. Part of him wanted to have some alone time with his beloved, but he didn’t dare move and disturb Miwako’s sleep. “A power over me I can’t and don’t wish to fight. Just like her mother.”     “She’s adorable,” Minako whispered as she slid into bed and snuggled against Shinn’s other shoulder. “She’s the only woman I could ever see sharing you with.”     “That makes you a better person than me,” Shinn whispered back as he wrapped his other arm around his drowsy wife and pulled her close. “I could never share you with another man.”     “Actually there is another man,” Minako sighed as she took a hold of his wrist. She brought his hand to her stomach and rubbed it affectionately in circles. “And you’ll meet him in a few months.”     Shinn’s eyes became wide as he realized what his wife meant but he made no response. He dared not wake the sleepy blondes in his arms. Instead, the stoic man laid his head back, pulled his family close and smiled wide, feeling blessed he lived in a reality where he was able to tell them Fairy Tales. O.o.O.o.O     In “Parallel Sailor Moon'' a few things were added to the mythology of the franchise. First off the girls getting married and having kids who look a lot like them (the Juniors). It is also implied in the comic, all of the men who married the Senshi took part in Mukoyoshi (Adopted son in law”) and took the family name of their wives when they got married. Hence, Shinn would become Aino Shinn. Also, I wanted to try and recreate that family picture that exists online of Minako, Kunzite, Minako Jr., and a tiny boy with white hair standing together as I really think it’s the ending Minako always deserved in the end.       Thanks to Knowall7 for being my Beta.

[crescendoinoz]

Chapter One (part c)

She checked the map. The nearest village to Safepoint was about six miles away, and only qualified as a village because of the presence of a post office- the people of the village even came to Safepoint for their blacksmith needs, since they hadn’t one of their own. Five or six times a year Norrin brought her cart down this way, and set up for a few days in the old smithy, and the people brought their work to her. If they needed anything more urgently than could wait, they made the walk to Safepoint.

According to the map, the village was called Rookroost. This was news to Howl, who had never heard the village referred to be any name at all- most people in Safepoint just called it ‘the next village’, or occasionally ‘down the road’.

It didn’t look like she was actually at the village yet, or could even see it in the distance. Howl looked around, looking for some marker to indicate how close it was- there should be mile markers along the road, and she hadn’t seen one in awhile, so it couldn’t be much farther to reach the next one.

Howl put her map away and started walking again, keeping her eyes on the side of the road lest she miss the mile marker that would tell her how far she’d gone. It was this careful watchfulness, perhaps, that allowed her to see the figure in the distance- it was white, and it looked like a small horse, except even from this distance she could see the horn on its forehead and the moonlight gleam of its hide. She drew in a sharp breath.

“A unicorn!”

Bill hissed again; Howl scooped him from her shoulder and held him to her, walking briskly forward, face pointed straight ahead while in her periphery she kept a careful eye on the unicorn. The creature was just beyond the treeline, using its horn to churn the dirt on the forest floor. Sometimes it would raise its head and shake it before moving to a different spot, but Howl could see no rhyme or reason to what it was doing.

“I want to get closer,” she whispered to Bill. She let him down gently. “Go distract it so it doesn’t notice me.”

Bill gave her a disgruntled look, then winked (or possibly blinked) his eye at her before taking off into the shallow ditch that ran alongside the road. Howl kept up her pace while Bill made his way toward the unicorn in what he probably assumed was nonchalance, pretending to pounce a bug, and paw at a long drooping stem of grass.

“Definitely a housecat,” Howl thought, and looked to the unicorn.

Tried to look to the unicorn.

“Where’d it go?”

Howl scanned the treeline closely, trying to spot the tell-tale gleam of the unicorn’s hide, and yelped and startled backwards when she turned and found a figure standing beside her.

“You shouldn’t abandon your cat like that,” the figure said, folding skinny arms over a black leather breastplate.

“I’m not abandoning him.”

“You set him down in the middle of the woods and started walking away. That seems like abandonment to me.”

“He has to make dirt,” she snapped back automatically. “I was giving him some privacy.” She looked over the figure, and then made another startled noise. “Why, you’re just a boy!”

For a boy he was, and the palest boy she’d ever seen- in fact his complexion was greyer than it was fair, with equally pale grey hair and slightly darker grey splotching across his face and arms.

Also, a long tail and floppy ears and a flat nose that gave him a slightly horsey appearance. Something about that struck her as odd, but she wasn’t quite sure why.

“Should I be something else?” he asked, doing his best to glower down at her- made difficult by the fact that Howl was a couple inches taller than him, and he had to look up to do so. Howl frowned, and planted her hands on her hips.

“Well I only mean that you scared me, sneaking up on me like that! What are you doing skulking around the woods like this anyway?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he demanded. His tail lashed behind him; his ears laid backward. “You’re here too.”

“I am traveling,” she said, in as haughty a voice as she could muster. “I am on the Crossroad.”

“So’m I.”

“You weren’t before!”

“How do you know?”

“I didn’t see you! I’d have seen you!”

“Well… I was in the woods.”

“Ha!”

“But I was traveling on the road! I had to go- you know.” He huffed, and hiked his shoulders up. “Anyway, it’s none of your business! I’ve got just as much right to be here as you!”

“That doesn’t mean you’ve a right to go sneaking up on me!”

“I wasn’t sneaking up on you! I was just standing there waiting for you to finish looking for whatever you were looking for. What were you looking for, anyway?”

Howl bristled defensively. “That’s none of your business! And you probably scared it away anyway!” She glanced around, wondering if she could spot it still, and saw Bill coming back over to her. He hopped up into her arms; she opened them for him automatically, and, once he was comfortable held, tossed her nose in the air. “Anyway, I’ve a long journey ahead of me, so I’ll take my leave of you, young master skulker.”

“Fine, it’s not like I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

“Good!”

“Great!”

And with that, she spun on her heel and stalked off in the direction of the next village.

-/-