#there is our neighbour's cat but the neighbour is often away so the cat is with us

[auntarivia]

Pls ask me about my pets so I could answer longer with photos.

hey if you have a pet or pets you need to reblog this rn and tell me in the tags what their names are. bonus points for including what kind of animal.

[kasagia]

imgonnagetyouback

Pairing: Benny Cross x fem!ex-girlfiriend! reader Summary: After your rather stormy breakup, Benny decides he can't live without you. He'll get you back. At any cost. Even if he has to force you over his motorcycle and take you far out of town. Taglist for Benny: @aleemendoza2425-blog Benny Cross' Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist P.S. I accept requests for Benny if you want to read sth specific with our boy 😊

Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you Bygones will be bygone eras Fading into gray We broke all the pieces, but still want to play the game I told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way... Whether I'm gonna be your wife or Gonna smash up your bike I haven't decided yet But I'm gonna get you back - "imgonnagetyouback" Taylor Swift

“What the hell is he doing here?” You ask angrily, looking out your office window as you see your ex’s Harley parked next to your car.

"Maybe he forgot something from you. Did you give him all his stuff back?" Your friend asks, putting the papers into a folder.

"No. I gathered all four of his shirts and two pairs of pants and made myself a campfire behind the house." You huff angrily, closing the blinds so you wouldn't have to watch the blue-eyed Vandal leaning against your car.

"So what does he want? From what you've told me, your relationship ended in a hell of a bad way, and he was a world-class asshole." You tremble at the mere memory of your breakup with Benny.

You and he met at one of the Vandals' bar. You happened to go there for a drink with your girls; he noticed you and started talking with you. He was flirting with you the whole night and tried to take you with him for a ride on his bike. The first time you turned him down. Then he tracked down where you lived and showed up at your door, offering a ride to your work.

You should have seen a red flag then. But you were too stupid and infatuated by him enough to think it was romantic.

As time went on, he took you to Vandals meetings more and more often. And it was fun. Until you had to bail him out of arrest, pick him up from the hospital, and wait forever for him at home, wondering if he'd be sleeping next to you in bed or at the police station.

And one day, when he ended up in the hospital after some guys beat him up for wearing Vandal's colours, you broke. You begged him to stop while he was still alive and well (which was doubtful considering the doctors were still debating whether to cut off his foot); you literally knelt by his bed and cried like a baby while all he cared about was whether he could keep riding.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst was that every time you argued, he threatened to leave, to disappear, that it would be best for you if he left you alone. And at first you begged him, terrified, to stay, but over time you started to react to those words... more aggressively.

Then you decided you were fed up with living with the wandering cat he was and broke up with him. Roughly. Stormily. Your neighbours heard more than one of your arguments, and the whole street saw you throwing his stuff out the window and finally throwing rocks at him as he rode away on his beloved Harley. On second thought, maybe you were both two big damn red carpets.

"I don't want to know. Will you take me home? The last thing I want today is to meet that son of a bitch."

You sigh, dragging the papers to your desk. You grab your black blazer and throw it on over your white shirt. You adjust your black pencil skirt and grab your purse to follow your friend.

You took the job as a secretary right after breaking up with Benny. You quit your old job not wanting him to know where you worked, but apparently Vandal had his ways. You wonder if choosing another job wasn't a slap in the face for Benny. Choosing such a boring and ordinary job would piss him off even more and prove that you really aren't made for each other.

Just like Benny, you could be hellishly mean.

"What the hell?" Your friend asks as you exit out the back and her car isn't in the parking lot. But there is another Vandal with his motorcycle.

"Johnny." You greet him and walk over to him, crossing your arms. Your friend is hot on your heels. "What are you doing here?"

"Kiddo said you two have a problem in your relationship."

"We don't have any relationship, so there is no problem between us. But apparently, my friend lost her car. Can you help her?" You ask him, furious with Benny for not acknowledging your breakup.

"Y/N... you know that I don't like to get involved in the shit that's not mine, but this kid has been going crazy for a month now. He's been doing even worse shitty things than before, and I can't tell you how many times we've picked him up from jail in the past few fucking weeks. If you ever cared about him, talk to him. He's becoming wildly unpredictable. Even for me."

You bite your lip at his words. You know perfectly well what Benny is like, or rather what he was like before he met you. Thanks to you, he stopped riding so fast and carefree, ended up in the hospital much less often, and even obeyed the speed limit when you were with him on his bike.

You can only imagine what he's been up to in your absence and to what extent, since Johnny took an interest and came to you to talk about it.

"Don't manipulate me, Johnny. You know damn well he deserved it. Now you know what I had to deal with throughout this whole fucking relationship." You reply dryly, not wanting to fall for the Vandals' sweet words again.

You loved them like family, but sometimes you have to cut yourself off from them to save your sanity. And you desperately needed some time to yourself and a break from all of Benny's antics.

"Well... I know Benny isn't easy, but he really is a good kid. Carrot and stick. That's what he needs. And for the sake of your lady-buddy's car and your friendship... maybe you should go and have a few words with him."

"Screw you." You growl, rolling your eyes, and walk away from them. "What are you waiting for?! Take her to this fucking car!" You shout, walking back to the main building to exit through the main entrance.

Johnny puts your friend on his bike, and all you can do is give her an apologetic look as he takes her to where they moved her car. You don't even want to know how they did it.

You sigh as you walk through the office and stand in front of the main exit doors. You glance at your watch and walk out of the building with your heart in your mouth.

You walk down the sidewalk with the other people from work who have just left. Benny's blue irises land on you immediately. He straightens up, stopping leaning against your car and throwing away a cigarette he was smoking. He looks at you expectantly. You nod at him and pretend to walk in his direction.

You cross the street on the crosswalk, but instead of turning right towards the parking lot, you run as hard as you can to the left towards the bus stop.

"Y/N!" Benny shouts after you, and a moment later, you hear the thud of his combat boots against the pavement as he runs after you.

The bus pulls up to the stop, and you run inside. Luckily, the driver closes the doors before Benny can get to them. He bangs on the glass, shouting your name and some curse words, but you can't hear him clearly as the bus starts moving.

You breathe a sigh of relief and wipe your sweaty forehead. This time you did it. You just hoped your friend would get her car back before Benny went to Johnny and complained to him that you ran away.

But for now, you're happy that you managed to outsmart your ex.

The next morning you cautiously peer out from behind your front door, searching for a head of blonde hair. Even though you couldn't see any Vandal's motorcycle through the window, you wanted to be sure that none would suddenly pop out from nowhere.

You sigh with relief, not seeing anything suspicious.

You open the door wider, but something is blocking you. On your way out, you notice a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers. You pick it up and examine it carefully, but you don't see any note or card. But you do see a necklace.

The flowers are tied with a fucking necklace. The necklace Benny gave you at the beginning of your relationship with his initials carved into the back of the silver heart. (One of the guys worked at a jeweler's and did it for him for practically free through a connection or something.) The necklace you threw in his face when you broke up with him.

Furious, you want to throw the flowers in the trash. Instead, you decide to put the necklace in your pocket and walk to work. On the way, you pass a school and hand the bouquet to the first girl you see. At least she was happy because of those damn flowers.

As you continue your walk, you see a motorcyclist in the distance. You tense up and quicken your pace, praying that it's not a Vandal, but apparently you're out of luck today.

"Y/N?! How long have we not seen each other?!" Danny screams as he rides to you. You sigh as his bike blocks the entire sidewalk and force a smile.

"Probably ages ago. How you doing?"

"Great. Can I give you a ride somewhere? Where's Benny? Shouldn't he be the one hauling your ass to work?" He asks, already taking out a helmet for you. You reluctantly accept it and climb behind him on the bike.

"We broke up." You inform him, knowing full well that he's been away from the Vandals lately due to studies and his photography stuff.

"Oh shit. He must be devastated then." He comments and starts the engine. You hold on to him as he drives you to the address you gave him.

The drive takes a few minutes. Luckily, your car is still parked outside the building, and you don't see any parked bikes.

"Thanks. Danny? Can you give this to Benny? You probably will see him sooner than me." You say and hand him the necklace. He nods and drives away, leaving you alone.

You approach your car and curse, seeing the lock placed on the wheel. Not a police lock. A lock that the Vandals often put on and took off in exchange for small money. A small tag was attached to it. It had the date and time written on it—probably their next meeting that they wanted you to join in exchange for taking the damn thing off your car.

"Bad day?"

You flinch and turn around, surprised by someone's presence. You sigh with relief when you see only Mike—an accountant from the company you worked for.

"Bad week. Plus, it looks like I'm grounded." You say and kick your leg against the wheel of your car.

"Yeah, I recognise that. My friend had to pay them like $100 to get that damn thing off. He was rushing to some meeting and couldn't wait for the police and similar stuff. I can get someone to take it off for you."

"I'm afraid I don't have enough money." You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for a weekend with the Vandals. In Benny's company. Talking to him. You already feel sick.

"For free. Friend of mine owns me a little favour."

"Seriously?" You ask, shocked. He nervously rubs the back of his neck with his hands and nods, giving you an uncertain smile.

"Yeah, no problem. And before he will do it... do you mind if we both go to lunch? I mean... you don't have to if you don't want to..."

"You know... I would actually like that." You interrupt him with a smirk, seeing him stuttering, unable to finish his sentence as he blushes.

"Really?" You almost giggle at his incredulous question and the gleam of happiness in his eyes. You nod with a huge, genuine smile, practically forgetting why you agreed to this date in the first place. "So... in four hours at the exit?"

"I will be waiting." With a smile, you leave him behind and enter the office. Maybe this day wasn't such a tragedy after all...

Benny was drinking beer with Johnny and Danny at a table in their favourite bar. The Vandals were circling him like vultures, just waiting for a little sensation and gossiping about his breakup with you.

"It must be hard for you, man. We all saw how much you loved her. Like a Catholic loves a goddamn God."

"Too bad she can't see it." Benny mumbles, lighting a cigarette. His one hand plays with the necklace he left on your doorstep this morning, which you gave to Denny. Benny gave you his fucking heart, and you still rejected it. He had to try harder. He had to talk to you first.

"Hey Benny-boy? How are you? Are you still getting over your breakup with your girlfriend? Do you love her that much? Come on, come with us. We'll race to the brothel, and you'll forget about this bitch in a second." Some Vandal walks up to him and pats him on the back.

"Benny no..." Johnny is interrupted by the crash of Vandal's jaw as Benny's fist hits him.

A second later, a beer bottle shatters over the head of a bleeding man on the floor, and Johnny and Danny try to pull him away from the guy. The entire club boos and cheers for the fight, but the guys quickly drag Benny outside.

"What the hell?! You can love her, but damn, don't be such a girl and react at each shitty comment!" Johnny yells at him and hits him in the chest with his hands. Benny huffs indignantly and puts his hands in his pockets to stop himself from hitting him.

"I hate her!" He growls furiously and plays with the necklace in his pants' pocket.

"And love her just the same, huh?" Danny asks and gives Benny a cigarette.

Benny doesn't answer. He smokes furiously, trying to clear his head, but all he can think about is you. Your scent, your taste, the softness of your body, the shudder of your breath beneath him, the way you clenched your hands around his shirt across his stomach when you rode with him on his bike, the way you pressed yourself against him and snuggled up to him every chance you got... fuck, he missed you. More than he previously thought he would be.

"Benny?! I saw your girl with some man in a suit! At that one of those Italian restaurants on the corner of Main Street. You know, the shitty one for rich people. You should do something about this." One of the bikers rides up and informs him, then rides away before Benny can say anything.

"Kid, don't…" Johnny tries to stop him, but Benny is already on his motorcycle. He starts it and rides as fast as he can, ignoring the shouts behind him.

All Benny could think about was how he was going to beat up the guy who dared to touch you. You were his girlfriend. You were one of the Vandals. You might have been on a break, but that didn't give any man the right to hit on you. Not when you had Benny and Benny had you.

It was simple logic. Nobody messes with the Vandals and their girls.

Benny sped through the city, not stopping at red lights. It wasn't until he was at a restaurant that he stopped his Harley.

He didn't turn off the engine, though. He was staring intently through the restaurant windows and checking out each customer until his eyes landed on you and some shit in a suit who had the nerve to get your attention.

Benny tugged on the handle, causing his bike's engine to roar furiously—like a guard dog giving a warning before it attacks. He increased the engine's roar until your eyes met his.

A cold shiver ran through him as you threw him one of your angry looks, and he felt hurt when you ignored him and continued to talk with the man sitting in front of you and gave him one of your most wonderful smiles. Fuck it. The guy wouldn't be able to walk when Benny got to him.

Benny reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pack of Marlboro, and lights his cigarette. He holds it to his mouth with one hand while the other continues to crank the handle of the engine, so that the roar of the engine drowns out any conversation you might have had with the man in front of you.

He smirks as you and the guy in front of you stare in his direction. He holds a cigarette between his plush lips and waves at you, causing an irritated frown to form on your forehead.

Benny can't help but feel a strange bile rising in his throat as he looks at the two of you. You were on a date with a guy who was clearly the opposite of Benny. He wonders if this is what you really want—a boring guy with a boring job and a tonne of money who could build you a house with a fucking white picket fence and drive you to work in his Cooper car and the kids to preschool. It makes him sick to think that you could be anyone else, that you could have anyone else's children, that you could be married to some guy in a suit and live the life of a fucking decent 1950s shitty family.

Benny knew perfectly well that he couldn't give you what this guy could provide you. He couldn't even afford a date at a restaurant like that.

However, it didn't change the fact that he loved you so damn much.

"Hey! Biker dude, leave Y/N alone!" A guy in a suit comes out of the restaurant and yells at him. Benny calmly finishes his cigarette and throws it on the ground, staring silently at the man in front of him. "Did you hear me, degenerate? Get out of here!" The guy pushes him, hitting his chest. For Benny, that's enough.

He lands the first punch with his right fist, landing perfectly on his opponent's cheek. The next punch sends blood pouring from the man's nose onto his snow-white shirt. But for Benny, it's not enough.

He throws the guy to the ground, and the two begin to fight in earnest. Benny, however, has a much greater advantage and motivation as he takes out all his anger on the guy below him. He only snaps out of this strange trance when someone's hands pull him away from the bleeding man below him.

"What the fuck was that, Benny?! You almost killed him!" You yell at him angrily, pulling your hands away from him as quickly as you can. Benny says nothing, staring at you silently as he processes what he just did. Several other motorcycles pull up in front of the restaurant, with Johnny in the lead.

"Let's go, kid! Before the police arrive."

Benny stares at you, not quite wanting to leave before he explains why he beat up your date. But he stops himself the moment he sees the fear and disgust in your eyes. It hurts Benny more than any punch he could have taken. He clenches his jaw and walks to his bike. He starts the engine and gives you one last long look, then lowers his head in shame as he joins the other Vandals.

Your hair flutters in the wind as you watch the Vandals drive away. You run over to Mike and wait with him until the ambulance arrives. But you don't follow him to the hospital. You have more important things to take care of in the city.

With trembling hands, you knock on the door. You wait patiently outside, considering the pros and cons, but before you can chicken out and leave, Betty opens the door for you.

"Y/N? This is quite a surprise."

"Can I come in? I need to talk to you." The woman makes room for you and lets you in. You greet her and Johnny's daughters, who are watching a cartoon on TV, and you go with her to the kitchen, where you can talk in peace. "It's about Benny."

"I expected it. You know, we were all very surprised when you broke up. We were convinced that a week longer and the boy would start looking for an engagement ring for you."

"Benny and marriage? Not in this lifetime, I guess." You scoff and sit down at the small kitchen island with a smile, thanking her for the coffee she made you. "He fucking almost beat my date to death today. He's acting crazy. Johnny tells me he's been like this since I broke up with him, but we both know he was like this long before we even met. What the hell am I supposed to do, Betty? Get out of town? Out of America? Vandals have expanded all over the states, and most of them aren't the same old club they used to be."

"I know. Believe me, I know best." Silence falls between you after her words. You nod, understanding perfectly that she of you had the most right to worry. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. "Y/N... I'll give you some advice. If you don't care about him that much... if you think you can forget and move on, then save yourself. Run away wherever you want, as far away from him as possible, and forget. But if you can't... then stay and talk some sense into him before it's too late to save him."

"Save him? You know perfectly well he won't abandon the Vandals."

"Like you said, they're not the same Vandals they used to be. They've changed. Johnny sees it. Benny sees it. And they both still fool themselves, but when some shit happens, it finally gets to them. And believe me, Benny loves his bike and freedom, but the Vandals aren't his family anymore. You are." You fall silent at her words, processing everything she said. You nod and sigh, taking a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket. "We smoke outside." She admonishes you. You laugh quietly and raise your hands in surrender.

"All right. Thanks for everything, Betty." You sigh as you leave the house. You light a cigarette and walk across town to the Vandals' bar. You have to finish everything you had to finish with Benny. You couldn't just leave town without a word. There's no telling what the Vandal would do if you suddenly disappeared.

You throw your cigarette into the bin and take a few calming breaths as you approach the biker's bar. Their engines are already roaring, and some of them, probably the young and new ones, eye you warily as you enter.

You look around the bar and frown, unable to find Benny. You walk further in, pushing through the sea of people and sitting at the head table where Johnny sits with his most important men.

"Hello there. Where is Benny?" You ask them, taking the beer from Johnny. The man raises an eyebrow at you and watches as you take a sip.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to him?"

"I have to. I'm leaving town soon. I'd rather tell that to that ticking bomb." Johnny nods, fully realising what you mean. You see Cockroach get up from the table and go to the phone. You try to listen in on the conversation, but Johnny effectively talks you over and drowns out any conversation the man was having at the bar.

"When are you coming back?" He asks, but you don't answer. You take a sip of beer and tap your finger on the neck of the bottle. "I see. The kid won't be happy, you know that?"

"We are no longer together." You snap back, trying your best to maintain your relatively indifferent attitude. "Besides, after the shit he did today, he only proved that I can't stay here anymore."

"He went for a ride. He'll probably be at the lake. Or on the streets breaking a few traffic laws. You know him."

"Too well." You nod and stand up from the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cockroach exit the bar and get on his bike. You frown and shake your head. They're not your problem anymore. "Tell him I'm looking for him. When you will see him."

"Sure." He agrees and nods. You nod back and turn to leave the bar. You scan the place one last time, knowing full well that you'll probably never set foot in it again.

Your heart clenches as you remember all the times you spent here. Both the good and the bad. Shortly after you broke up with Benny, you cursed this building. You'd rather see it burn down, along with all the Vandals that reminded you of what you'd lost.

You try to hold back the tears that are welling up in your eyes as you involuntarily recall your first meeting with Benny. The pool table is still in the same spot. How easy it would have been for you not to have looked that damned way and not fallen for the charm of those blue irises and the exposed muscles of his arms. How much disappointment and heartbreak you would have avoided if you had never entered that bar. And as much as you despised and hated that place, you loved it and the people in it for a long time and fiercely. And one of them in particular.

But how much more tragedy and sadness could you endure? How long could you live in fear and uncertainty in a relationship that was supposed to bring you only happiness and those good thrills?

Benny wanted to be free. So you will give him that freedom.

"Y/N!" Johnny calls after you before you leave. You sigh and turn to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." You nod at him and leave the bar.

You leave everything behind. And you feel like a piece of you is dying in the flames of time and the cry of your tormented heart..

Surprisingly, it doesn't take you long to pack. Nor does it take you long to get off work. Two days later, you're standing in the hallway of your house, ready to hand over the keys to your cousin, who's supposed to be selling it.

You stare at the picture Danny took of you and Benny when you were sitting at one of the biker picnics. Benny and you were leaning against his bike. He had his arm over your shoulder and was staring at you with loving puppy eyes while you smiled at the camera.

You sigh, putting the photo into your wallet and impatiently waiting for your cousin.

Just then, there's a knock on your door. You sigh and open it. You freeze, completely shocked, when you see Benny there.

"I didn't hear your bike."

"I parked down the street. So you don't get scared and run away." He says, still leaning against your door frame.

"I'm not scared of you." You huff indignantly, looking at the scratches on his face. You frown, not remembering him getting any injuries from Mike.

"I had an accident."

"Of course you had." You snort, crossing your arms over your chest. You see his jaw quiver slightly, but he just continues to stare at you with those stupid blue eyes of his, like you're the only girl in the world. "I'm leaving." You inform him, swallowing hard and waiting for his reaction. He drops his gaze to your hands and nods.

"I can see that." He says, nodding at the large travel backpack behind you.

"I won't come back." You inform him, carefully observing his reaction to it. Of course, he doesn't show anything. His face is stony as he looks at you, and his facial muscles don't even move as he doesn't reveal a single emotion to you.

"You won't come back." He repeats, not moving an inch from his spot by your door. You clench your teeth in irritation, to which he just smiles. And oh, that damn smile of his...

"That's it. You can go. You always said you'd be the one to leave. Too bad I had to be the one with the balls to do it." You say angrily, ready for him to turn around and walk to his bike, but all he does is continue to stare at you. You shake your head and push past him when you see your cousin.

You ignore Benny as you sort out the details with your cousin. You grab your backpack and walk him back to his car. You say goodbye to him and watch the car drive away. As you turn to go to the bus stop, you bump into Benny's chest.

"Sorry. I didn't see you." You say, quickly pulling away from him and trying to suppress your blush after your hands were briefly on his chest. The damn thing still had some well-trained muscles.

"Give you a lift?" He asks you seemingly innocently and puts his hands in his pockets. His gaze burns you, making your blush stay on your cheeks a little longer.

"Where are you going?" You ask as you both walk in the same direction. You don't feel like going with him, but you're not going to tell him that yet. You know he'll think of anything to make you get on that fucking bike with him.

"Florida." At those words, you freeze and stand still. You swallow and look at him for a long moment as you remember how you once begged him to go to his cousin in Florida and start a new life there. Then he chose his bike. And you chose yourself.

"To your cousin?" You ask carefully, resuming your walk.

"He hired me at his car workshop." Benny nods, walking glued to your side with his hands clasped behind him.

You feel strangely at ease talking to him. You're out of the habit of it. Of having him so close to you, of feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, of his intoxicating scent, of having his hypnotising irises focused on you and of listening to that raspy voice of his.

You missed him.

"You will have a job?" You ask, shocked. You can't imagine a free spirit like Benny finding a permanent job with set hours. "Well... that's good for you. I guess." You comment as you both walk. Suddenly he steps in front of you and stops. You sigh when you see his bike parked exactly two steps away from you. Fuck, you let that son of a bitch lead you to his bike.

"Are you getting in?" He asks, nodding at his bike. And as much as you want to say yes, you know it'll be bad for both you and him.

You shouldn't be together. Or at least you didn't think so. Even though you loved him so damn much.

"I will buy a train ticket." You politely decline his offer. You expect him to nod silently, get on your bike, and ride off into the sunset forever, but he still stands firmly in front of you, blocking your path.

"Where to?" He asks and looks at you suspiciously, as if he knew perfectly well that you didn't know where you were going yet. You only knew that it was definitely far from Benny.

"You don't need to know." You growl stubbornly, trying to get past him and finally move on.

But Benny won't let you. Before you can register any movement, he moves quickly and takes your hands. He wraps them tightly around his waist, and suddenly you hear a metallic click and something cold and heavy being placed on your forearms. Handcuffs. Bloody handcuffs.

"Benny!!" You growl at him angrily and struggle as he walks towards his bike. "Where the hell did you get handcuffs from?"

"Cockroach." He answers shortly and sits down, making you have to follow his lead. He fucking kidnaps you.

"Benny... let me go!" You scream, trying to punch him in the stomach, but the handcuffs are so short and far enough away from your wrists that all you can do is hold on tight as he prepares to ride.

"Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you." He tells you calmly, and you stare at him in disbelief. What the fuck?

"Don't joke! Benny!" Either he ignores your screams (which is most likely) or he doesn't hear them because at that very moment he starts the engine of his Harley.

So all you can do is sit behind him, holding on tight as he drives who knows where. Amazingly, he stops at red lights and doesn't go over the speed limit. It's only when he gets to the highway that he drives a little faster than the speed limit, but not enough to be considered dangerous driving.

You rest your cheek against his back in defeat as you realise there is absolutely no way out of this. Not if you want to stay alive. You can feel him relax a little as he rides forward, and you are not trying to fight with him. You sigh, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to rest behind him for a moment, revelling in the feeling of freedom as you whizzed through the air on his bike.

Fuck, you missed it.

The only break you get is a stop at a motel when the fuel runs out and the cold night starts to set in. Benny rents you a room (which is surprising because you were always the one paying) at the motel and leaves you there while he goes to fill up his Harley.

You think about escaping, but:

1. Benny took away the keys and locked you up there.

2. He made sure to rent a room on the highest floor of this damn building.

3. You were too tired and hungry after the ride to come up with some plan.

That's why you lay on the bed and wait for him to come back. Hopefully with food. It would be nice to eat something before you will kill him.

As if on cue, the keys turn in the door, and Benny steps inside. In his hand he has a large paper bag, which he places on the bed opposite you in an apologetic gesture of sacrifice for his sins. He can go to hell. Him and his damn puppy eyes.

"What is it?"

"Burgers. Took it for you. Your favourite." He says and makes sure he's locked the door. He puts the key in the keyhole and goes to the window.

He looks at his bike and takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lights one and looks outside, not sparing you a single glance.

"Where's your jacket?" You ask, seeing as he's not wearing his Vandals' colours. It was weird seeing him in just a T-shirt.

"On a bike in the trunk. I don't know if they'd let me here wearing that."

"You never took it off." You say shocked and raise your eyebrows at him. "You will be cold without it." You notice and take the food out of the bag. You don't eat yet, wondering if you should leave him some, if he even ate anything before he came here.

"I was cold without you." He answers quickly without even thinking much about what he's saying. You see his cheeks redden slightly as he realises he said it out loud. "Eat." He clears his throat and takes a drag on his cigarette. You sigh and start eating. You hum, savouring the delicious food, and you swear you hear him chuckle quietly from his spot by the window. Big bastard.

"Where we going?" You ask him before biting into your burger. You frown as grease leaks onto your fingers. You lick them, unconsciously teasing Benny as he... imagines what your lips wrapped around just as perfectly as they now were wrapped around your fingers. He clears his throat, seeing that you’ve caught him staring at you.

"Florida. I want to show you something." You eat in silence, wondering what he wants to show you that makes him literally chain you to himself and drag you out of town.

"And then?" You can't stand it anymore and finally ask, curious about his future plans and how long he actually wants to keep you with him.

"And then you will decide."

"Decide what? Do I want the fur handcuffs or the regular metal ones?" You snap at him, irritated.

Your sharp mockery makes him throw his cigarette out the window, and his gaze lingers there, as if he were ashamed of what he had done. On the other hand, you didn't give him much of an exit or opportunity to talk normally. You wanted to leave—just like he had promised so many times that he would do. So why did he stubbornly want to keep you if he had never cared?

Benny wasn't one for words. He was sparing with his thoughts and emotions. And for a while, his actions spoke loud enough of his devotion to you. For a while. Then your honeymoon phase wore off, and you were annoyed that he never verbally confirmed to you what his eyes had told you so many times as he held you close by the fire at night at one of the Vandals meetings.

On this particular night, some famous actress that the guys were crazy about was coming to town. Half of them got on their bikes halfway through the party and wanted Benny to join them in hunting her down and taking a picture with her. They even bribed Danny to go with them and take their stupid pictures.

"Come on, Benny. You're not coming with us? I remember you were the one who hung her poster in the club so you could get a good view of her from the pool table." One of the guys was convincing Benny, who was currently lying on the grass and resting his head on your lap, practically forcing you to comb your hands through his blonde locks.

"I have a much better view here!" He shouts at them, not even turning his head in their direction. His blue eyes never leave your face. You blush a little, ducking your head and closing your eyes as you try to ignore the whistles and teasing from the boys at his response.

A moment later, Benny props himself up on his elbows and steals the most delightful, mind-numbing kiss. You cup his cheek in your hand and let yourself sink into the feeling of his soft lips against yours, letting out a quiet sigh when he tangles his hand in your hair and presses you against the trunk of the tree behind you. You ignore the cheering Vandals put on and completely immerse yourself in your little bubble with Benny.

Everyone had their poison. For Benny, it was cigarettes and his Harley. For you, it was him. And back then it didn't bother you one bit.

"I... if you want to go you can. I won't stop you." Benny mumbles under his breath, pulling you from your thoughts. You shake your head, snorting, and set the bag of food on the nightstand next to your bed.

"Thank you so much that you provide me with my basic human rights!" You growl at him angrily, reminding him about those stupid handcuffs.

"You didn't even want to give me a chance to explain myself to you. And you know perfectly well that I never ask for anything or expect anything in return. I... I didn't see any other way to get to you. And I'm not going to apologise for that."

You roll your eyes at him, irritated. But you can't say you don't see the reasoning behind his actions. But the prospect of being dragged around by him deeply offends your innate feminism.

Seeing that you have nothing to add to the matter, he closes the window. He walks over to you and grabs the blanket off the bed. You frown as he sits down in the armchair, clearly intending to sleep there. And you don't like the fact that even though you had him in the same room, you won't be able to have his arms wrapped around you. Especially since it's so damn cold in this motel.

"Come here. You will get sick by sitting near this window. It is cold outside, and they don't even heat the room." You grumble and make room for him on the bed, hoping that you don't have to tell him the real reason you want him next to you to get him in the same bed with you.

"I will be fine." He speaks carelessly and reaches into his pocket for another cigarette.

"Benjamin Cross." You growl at him, which finally gets his full attention. "Get your fucking ass here." Benny rolls his eyes but obediently stands up. He takes off his shoes and lies down next to you in bed.

He covers you with an extra blanket and leaves an absurd amount of space between you that you honestly hate. But you won't make the first move and throw yourself into his arms. Not after he kidnapped you. But... could it really be considered kidnapping if you partly wanted it and you didn't really have anywhere else to be?

You sigh, tossing and turning in your bed as you try to find a slightly comfortable sleeping position. But it's impossible to fall asleep with Benny so close to you when you are not even able to touch him. Especially when his warmth and scent reach you, assaulting you and every ounce of restraint and self-control you had.

"What's the matter with you?" Benny asks as you toss and turn in frustration once again.

"Nothing."

Benny knows that tone. All too well. So he hesitantly moves closer to you and experimentally places a hand on your waist. When you don't push away from him, he gently pulls you toward him and tightens his hold, pressing his chest against your back. You sigh and press your lips to his forearm, rubbing your nose against the tattooed skin.

Benny doesn't comment on that. That's something you like about him. That even when you do completely absurd things, he doesn't comment on it, doesn't deny it, just stands by you in silence. Just like now.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze it so hard that his rings dig into it. But you don't care. It's nice to finally have him this close.

Benny rests his chin on your shoulder and runs his nose against your temple. His beard gently tickles you, but you do nothing about it. It's been a long time since you've had this feeling of him close to you. You turn in his arms and snuggle into him.

Benny gently strokes your back with his hand, holding you close to him without a word as you revel in his scent. For a moment you forget why you should be mad at him and stay as far away from him as possible. So when his lips fall to your forehead and he presses a long kiss there, you grab his chin and steal the kiss from him.

His full, plump lips feel wonderful against yours and caress you nicely. You moan when you can finally taste his lips on yours again, and you remember how much you've missed this feeling. His hand roams over you, and you let him touch you wherever he wants. Benny, on the other hand, is confused. One moment you're yelling at him and you're angry, and the next you want him close to you and you kiss him like there's no tomorrow. It's a nice change. But Benny is afraid of how long it will last. Of how much longer will you want him? And will you want to leave again?

For now, he had you back in his arms. And he wanted to savour that feeling. And he will give you a goddamn reason to stay.

He cups your cheek in his hand and deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth again, as if learning you all over again, before wrapping his tongue around yours. You sigh as his hand slides teasingly from your cheek, down your neck, over the valley of your breasts, and to the hem of your jeans.

"Benny..." You sigh as his cold fingers touch the skin of your stomach after he unbuttons your jeans TOO slowly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Benny almost chuckles at how fast and furious your head is shaking. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep from making any sound as he gently brushes his fingers over your folds. The motel walls were thin after all. "Open your eyes for me, my little rascal, and say the words. After this, there will be no turning back."

You don't even think about turning back. You don't think about leaving him. You only think about how wonderful it is to have him by your side again, how wonderful his hands feel on you, and how much you want to kiss his stupid mouth until you both have enough breath. And that's exactly what you do.

With that form of agreement from you, his fingers gently delve into your folds, exploring previously familiar territory and teasing you unintentionally as he tries to appreciate every little second he has with you.

Sex with Benny was like that. Unique, intense, a long marathon. Because, as he said, you never know when it's the last time. Although you always prayed that it would never be the last time and that he and you will both live to experience another of your hot sessions.

For now, God listened to a sinner like you...

You almost scream as he digs his long fingers into you up to his knuckles. His rings rub against the entrance of your cunt, the even colder than his fingers metal is making you shiver. Benny kisses and nibbles your neck, leaving a trail of hickies from your lips to your collarbone.

His fingers slide in and out, pushing against that sweet spot inside you that makes you scream his name. His rings push through and enter your vagina, and you can see them glistening with your arousal. And it's fucking hot. As hot as Benny's hard manhood pressing against your thigh.

You dig your nails into his neck and moan into his ear as his thumbs is pressing your swollen clit, working with all his might to bring you to the edge of your orgasm.

You bite your lip, trying to muffle your moans and cries of pleasure so everyone in the motel doesn't hear you, but Benny won't have any of that. He kisses you hungrily and pulls his hand away from you completely. You gasp, lifting your hips and seeking his hand, but he doesn't resume his ministrations until a soft moan escapes your kiss-swollen lips.

"Such a good little desprate girl for me. You take my fingers so damn well now, wrapping your tight unused walls around them, and before when you were scandalously empty, you were a nasty little brat. I shouldn't reward you for running away from me, you know, my sweetest?" He mumbles in your ear with his hoarse voice, still refusing you the touch of his sinfully long fingers.

The tears in your eyes fall freely onto the pillow as you try to gather the last remnants of logical thought to somehow prove yourself to him, because you know you won't come if you just grind against him desperately in the hopes that he'll finally give you more.

"Please Benny… I… oh… I won't leave… I won't leave.."

You tangle your hand in his hair and tug on it, to which he lets out a soft growl from his plump lips. In punishment, he gently nips your collarbone, adding another hickey to the collection, as he thankfully pushes his fingers deep into your velvety wet and eager walls again and tries to bring you immense pleasure.

And it doesn't take him very long. A few thrusts of his fingers, kisses scattered across your neck, collarbone, and cleavage, and you're falling apart beneath him. Your brain is a useless mush as you come from the mere ministrations of his fingers and the dirty words he whispers in your ear. You're drunk on Benny, on the feel of his fingers inside you, his weight on you, and the burning marks his lips leave on your skin.

You lick your lips in anticipation for him to strip down so you can get to the main part, but he just flops onto his side next to you, ignoring the obvious hard soreness in his pants, and wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you against his chest.

"I missed it." He whispers, kissing your knuckles. You feel his grip on your hand tighten, but he doesn’t move to taste you on his fingers. He simply places your joined hands on his chest, his other hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

You know this is the closest you'll get to an admission of guilt and an apology from him. So you accept it and gently snuggle into him.

"Good night, Benny." You whisper into his neck. He shivers.

Goosebumps appear on the skin of his neck, but he doesn't move. You just lie there, cuddled up to each other, and he presses a long kiss to the top of your head. You feel fulfilled, satisfied, happy,

He lies under you politely, ignoring his discomfort, and you know that this is some kind of sick punishment for himself. Yet you do nothing to stop it. He has to realise that he can't just take you on his bike and take you to hell knows where. He needs to realise that he can't be such a free spirit anymore if he really wants you. That he can't keep doing the shit he did with the Vandals.

Even if you're happy with how things turned out after he dargged you out of the town.

And when the next day he takes you to Florida and shows you the old family home that he inherited from his deceased father and says that he would love to burn this place down in the past, but now he wants to keep it and renovate it for you if you agree to stay with him as his wife, you know you can't stay mad at him forever. Especially not after he slides one of his rings off his finger and places it securely on yours in a silent promise and understanding between you.

You whether gonna be his wife or gonna smash up his bike, (you haven't decided yet) but in the end you gonna finally make him yours and only yours.

After all, he didn't get you back just for you to leave him again. You will stay with each other until the very end. Even if it would destroy you.

[acewritesfics]

The Neighbour's Cat | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: from @rainydayteacups

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff overload. Soft Tommy. I guess you could say pre-war Tommy but I didn’t really mention it.

Word Count: 1,564

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

“Did you hear that?” Ada asks after a loud thud came from out in the backyard.   

“It might be the neighbour's cat,” Y/N replies. The grey tabby is often in her small backyard, making himself comfortable in one of her flowerpots as he slept. She no longer had flowers growing in the one he took a liking too. “He often comes into the yard.”  

She goes to pour herself another glass of the wine that Polly had swiped from the Garrison when she sees movement outside the window. Recognising the familiar hair cut she stands up from the table. "I'll be right back. I need to make sure the cat hasn't gotten into anything it shouldn't have."  

"But it's dark outside, what could it possibly get into?" Ada whines, lifting her glass to her lips.  

"You'd be surprised," Y/N mumbles and makes her way to the back door and slips outside, looking into the darkness of the night for a person sneaking around the back of her home. "Tommy?" she whispers loudly unsure if it was him, she'd seen.   

As Tommy moves in front of her, a hand clasped gently over her mouth as he holds a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet.   

"Come with me," he speaks barely above a whisper, the hand covering her mouth moving to take her hand in his and leads her away from the back yard and into the street.  

“Tommy, I can’t just leave,” she protests but makes no real effort to break away from him and go back inside. “Where are the others?”  

“Back at the Garrison,” he informs her. “And who says we can’t sneak off to spend the night before our wedding together?” 

“It’s tradition,” she sighs knowing the women currently in her kitchen will have her head once they realize she’s disappeared.  

“Fuck tradition,” he scoffs as he slows his walk now that their getting further from the house. “Since when have we been ones to follow tradition, eh?” 

“I guess you have a point,” she smiles. 

“We’ll start our own tradition,” he announces, his voice echoing through the empty street as he walks ahead of her lighting his cigarette and turning to face her while walking backwards. “Our future generations will spend the eve of their wedding together instead of apart because we did it first.” 

Not realizing he’s about to step off the curb, he stumbles backwards causing Y/N to gasp as scrambles forward to try stop him from falling. He steadies himself before he can topple backwards. “I’m fine, love.” 

She shakes her head with a chuckle as his hands reach for her hips and pulls her closer. “So, what do you say?” 

“I say, I’m the luckiest woman in all of England, maybe even the whole world,” she smiles. “Let’s make our own traditions.” 

He smiles, kissing her, before taking her hand again and leading her further from her home. 

Arriving at Charlie’s Yard, Tommy helps her through the gate and towards the stables. Y/N looks around apprehensively, unsure if they should be there. It's been a long time since they snuck into the yard of the man who's like an uncle to the Shelby siblings. Last time they did it, they'd been caught. Charlie had almost fired Tommy from his job as punishment, but Tommy promised never to do it again. Until now.  

"Tom, are we allowed to be here?" she questions him, even though she has a feeling she already knows the answer as they walk into the makeshift stable.  

"I cleared it with Charlie," he informs her, surprising her a little. 

"But Charlie's at the Garrison with the rest of the blokes," she says, realization hitting her. "He was in on this plan of yours." 

"He tried to talk me out of it," he tells her.  

"But of course, Tommy Shelby gets his way," she teases. 

"I convinced you to marry me, didn't I?" he asks, a smug smile on his pouted lips.  

"It didn't take much convincing," she smiles.  

"We first met here," he reminds her. "You were tending to one of the horses Curly was working with." 

"Moonlight," she smiles remembering the day well.  

She came to Birmingham two years ago to visit her cousin, Curly, and look for work, having been fired from her last job for no good reason. Curly talked to Charlie about hiring her, claiming he needed a hand with the horses. Charlie hired her after Curly gave him his word about Y/N being a hard worker and almost as good with horses as he was.  

She was three days into her job when she crossed paths with Tommy. She was grooming Moonlight, a black stallion with a diamond shaped patch of white on his forehead. Moonlight just so happened to be one of the horses Tommy saved from a man who was about to put the beautiful boy down, because he was sick, and he couldn't afford to get him well again. Curly had nursed him back to health within a few weeks. Y/N had bonded with him so much that Tommy couldn't bring himself to find him a new home, instead keeping him as a gift for the woman he had fallen so quickly in love with. 

Those few weeks curly was nursing Moonlight back to health, Tommy spent pursuing Y/N, unable to get her from his mind. It took a month before she gave in to his advances and they've been together ever since. And Moonlight is now in a stable on a farm a friend owns, living his life to the fullest. Y/N is out there almost daily attending to him and taking him for rides. Tommy can't wait for the day when he can move Moonlight into their own stables, on property they owned, with as many horses as his wife wants. 

"The first time I saw you, I knew I had to have you in my life," he tells her. "You looked so beautiful, covered in dirt and grime, humming that tune as you ran a brush through Moonlight's mane. He seemed so calm and at peace that I felt it within myself."  

"Oh, Tommy," she coos softly, feeling her heart erupt with all the love she has for him. The fluttering feeling like a kaleidoscope of butterflies was inside her chest. She steps towards him, placing her hand on his face as she looks at him lovingly, her thumb stroking his well-defined cheek.  

"I've felt it ever since that moment," he says, his voice softer. "You bring peace to my chaotic life. It's one of the many reasons why I love you." 

"I love you," is all she's able to say before she pulls him in for passionate kiss, expressing all the love she has for the man who turned her life upside down in the best kind of way.  

Y/N startles awake the next morning when a loud noise comes from outside. Placing her hand on Tommy's bare shoulder, she gently shakes him awake, hearing the rattling of gates being opened.  

"Tommy, we need to leave," she tells him barely above a whisper. 

Groaning, his eyes flutter open and connect with Y/N's eyes. He smiles and reaches behind her head to pull her in for a morning kiss. His other hand travels up her thigh, plays with the hem of his shirt she's wearing before slipping under it to grab her hip to pull her closer.  

"Enough of that you two," The sound of Charlie's voice causes them to part. "You best get out of here before they send a search party. Can't be late to your own wedding." 

He walks away before they could say anything. Standing up, Y/N quickly dresses into her clothes from the previous day as Tommy takes back his shirt and coat.  

"I'll walk you home," he tells her as they leave the stable. They thank Charlie who waves them off with a shake of his head and tells them he'll see them at the ceremony. Hurrying home, Y/N holds onto Tommy's hand tightly, bracing herself for the lecture she's about to encounter.  

Standing on her front doorstep, she turns to face Tommy with a small smile on her lips. "I'm about to get my head bitten off by your aunt and our sisters but last night is worth every second of it."  

"I agree, my love," he smiles also. "I liked that tradition far better." 

"This coming from the man that said a fuck you to traditions," she teases.  

"To traditions that aren't ours," he corrects her.  

"You better get going before Polly sees you," she chuckles and pulls him in for one more kiss before they become man and wife. "I love you." 

"I love you too," he says pulling away from her and stepping back on to the footpath. "Don't be late," he tells her. 

"I'll be the one in white just in case you can't find me," she laughs. 

"I'll always be able to find you," he smiles and turns around, starting his walk to Arthur's house.  

As soon as she opens the door and heads inside, she gulps seeing Polly standing there with her hands on her hips and an angry look on her face. "And where the hell have you been?" 

"The neighbor's cat needed to see me," she replies slipping past her to go to the bathroom. 

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Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes your blog will be linked after posted but I don't think you get the notification. You'll have to let me know and I'll change it from bold to normal. Tags have been weird lately. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting my mother to stop making so much noise in her own house when I’m staying here?

So me (22M) and my mother (62F) have a complicated relationship. She is very very toxic and always has been - she used to induce illness in me and make my pre-existing disorders worse so that she could keep me with her when she separated from my father, she never let me leave the house because she would tell me I would be harmed or something would happen to me if I was away from her, she would control everything I did and what I ate or drank, where I went, etc. The house she and I lived in was an incredibly bad environment for me. It’s not taken care of, it’s dirty and unhygienic, I was constantly ill and having allergies set off, she would try to feed me dirt-covered food I watched her pick up off the floor, the shower didn’t work and she wouldn’t let me go elsewhere to bathe. I kept talking about moving out, especially once I got into a serious relationship with my girlfriend (26F), but it would always devolve into an argument with her telling me I wasn’t going anywhere, that my girlfriend would leave me, that she’s the only person who’ll stick by me, and so on.

All of that is basically background context to counterbalance the (fair) preconceptions of “you’re guests you’re imposing on her you can just leave” etc you’re about to have.

So I finally moved out this year and in with my girlfriend and it was wonderful. However, my mother was blowing up BOTH of our phones 24/7 telling me to come back, and it reached the point she was contacting Other people (family, our friends) to get Them to tell me to move back in with her and asking where I was at all hours of the day, who I was with and what I was doing. I was ignoring her as best I could. Then a couple of weeks ago mine and my girlfriend’s house flooded after our upstairs neighbour burst a pipe in the building and water began fountaining through all our electrical sockets and lights and pouring from the ceiling. We had nowhere else to go except to stay with my mother until the house was repaired and made safe again, especially because so many of our belongings were ruined.

So we’ve been back here since. We’re forced to sleep on the couch together in the living room because in the time I was gone she somehow let bugs infest my old room and her cat pee all over the mattress of the bed.

Now, my girlfriend and I are both very non-confrontational and I’m usually super hard to annoy, but I’m also autistic and highly sensitive to noise. And my mother is. Very noisy. She blasts the TV at full volume all day even when she leaves the room and gets angry if you turn it off even if she’s not watching it, she’s a chainsmoker who’s constantly hack-coughing, she’ll have the radio playing OVER the TV, she shouts out the windows to her neighbours, she keeps all the windows and doors open, she’ll play music at full volume without headphones on, etc. I have noise-cancelling headphones from when I still lived here but she’s often so loud it doesn’t muffle it at all.

Recently it’s reached the point where she’ll wake up during the night, say 2-4am, come through to the room we’re sleeping in where the TV is, and just turn the TV on, turn the radio on, start singing along to music, slam doors, VACUUM. For the past 2 weeks she’s been waking me and my fiancée up every single night, often several times, and we’re at the end of our rope with it.

We can’t afford a hotel and have nowhere else to go, when we try to ask her to keep it down at LEAST during the night she says she can do whatever she wants because it’s her house and says we’re being ungrateful, and when we’ve offered to try to clean up my old room so we can sleep in there she snaps at us not to touch anything of ‘hers’ and gets mad because we’re implying her house isn’t clean, that we don’t want to be near her, that we must be telling everyone her house is shitty, etc.

Yesterday I got into an argument with her because I was having an extremely bad sensory day, my girlfriend said she had a migraine, and my mother responded by turning up the TV. When she saw I was holding onto my headphones and my girlfriend was near tears, she turned it up even louder and smirked at me. The argument basically ended in her screaming at me that if she was so bad we could leave, I impulsively said okay we would, and then she got physically aggressive and barred the doorway and told us I wasn’t going anywhere because she’d make sure of it.

It’s just. Exhausting! GF and I are constantly sleep-deprived, drained, grumpy, tired, and dealing with headaches on top of the stress of trying to financially recoup from the house flood and deal with getting everything fixed, and half of me is mad at my mother for not having even basic respect for us sleeping or our issues when half the time she is not even watching the damn TV or in the same room as it, while the other half of me feels conflicted because it’s her living room and we’re sleeping in the TV room and she’s putting us up when we have nowhere else.

AITA (/are we the assholes) for wanting her to accommodate us despite being guests?

What are these acronyms?

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Hellooo

~I'm searching for some Modern AU lawlu fic. Highschool AU are also fine

Thanks for this wonderful blog btw~<3

Hello nice person and happy new year !

We have quite a few for you:

Chasing the Sun by @illusiverose (E) [A Mod's favourite]

Trafalgar Law is a young surgeon who has carefully avoided getting too close to anyone to protect himself from his own dark past. This plan worked well, until a chance meeting with a young fireman named Monkey D. Luffy has him abandoning reason and dignity for a chance to bask in sunlight. He just hopes he made the right decision.

Broken Heart Syndrom by Callunar (M)

Law is a tired surgeon in the cardiac unit at Grand Line Hospital. He's got a few close friends, a cat called Bepo and an incredibly loud, annoying neighbour. Law had been doing his best to avoid said neighbour but life didn't always work out the way he planned.

More than a physical attraction (it's a passion) by gentoopengwyn (M)

When space was made available at the bar where the man stood, Luffy immediately shoved his (nonalcoholic) drink towards a confused Usopp and made his way over. "Hey," he said with a grin as he sidled up next to the man. "I'm Monkey D. Luffy." "I'm not interested." - Or: 5 times Luffy simps for Law + 1 time Law simps for Luffy

These Things Happen by trixree (T)

Law has been awake for twenty hours straight. He’s fine, everything is fine. And he will continue to be fine so long as no one takes his coffee away from him. Enter: Luffy.

Sabishigari-ya by Alexgrand (M)

Trafalgar Law attends medical school in Tokyo. Though he excels academically, his social life is lacking. He finds a website where he becomes infatuated with a user named Mugiwara22.

(We Would Never) Break the Chain by cosmicatta (M)

Two little boys meet in a small fisher village in the late 70s. As if brought together by the forces of nature, their lives become forever intertwined, their paths inevitably following each other in circles, always returning to the starting point. Luffy is sunshine and dynamite; Law is drizzle and dusk. It’s simple, until it’s not. They can’t be children forever, after all. “I’ve always been a little bit in love with you.”

Boyfriend's duties by Martilla (E) [A fandom classic by this point]

Law is a surgeon who needs some light in his life. Then Luffy happens.

The Other Side by methoxyethane (T)

Luffy gets sent to an alternate dimension and only has one thing on his mind when he gets there. Seeing Ace one more time.

Video calls in quarantine by anniedeodair (G)

The worst thing about not being able to leave the house was boredom and not seeing his friends or Law. Luckily there are video calls and until the quarantine ends, Luffy would talk to them through the camera.

Stolen Kisses by leafyxthiefy (G)

Someone has stolen Luffy's kisses. So of course, Ace will be there to avenge his beloved little brother! AU Implied LawLu, MarAce. One Shot. Light cursing, some OOC-ness and minor characters.

He’s mine! by libubs (NR)

Where Luffy is a famous pro gamer; millions of subscribers and social stats through the roof. But it’s not only his gaming skills and charming personality that make him so popular — it’s the mysterious “guy” who often appears in his streams, deep voice, and tattooed hands. His husband. But that’s a secret.

Sixth time's the Charm by katia-anyway (E)

5 times Law thought he was completely messing up wooing Luffy and 1 time he realized Luffy had been seduced all along!

What's A 'Closed' Sign Between Friends by teaandtumblr (G)

A tired, hungry surgeon drops in after hours once and Sanji doesn't have the heart to turn him away. What he doesn't expect is for his friend and this doctor to fall in love right under his nose. A 5+1 story.

A Strange Place to Meet New Friends by aspiringtrashpanda (G)

Nami drags Luffy to accompany her speed dating. Luffy's only in it for the hot chocolate. Good thing the handsome barista has just what Luffy needs.

Keep This Close To Our Hearts, Love by riverofnara (T)

It's amazing how a simple prank can be an expression of things unsaid.

-Mod Gigi

[oxceen]

Alterhuman alphabet!

(credits to @/local-xenogender-icon)

A - awakening

When did you realise you are an alterhuman? At what age, how long ago?

I awakened around two years ago, when I was 12. My neighbour/friend and I were hanging out outside our houses and he asked if I knew what a therian is. I said no, and he explained it to me, and told me that he is one. I was really interested, because I've felt very cat-like since I was a kid, and often saw myself as a cat, and afterwards I researched more about therianthropy and asked my friend a ton of questions and around a week later I confirmed that I am indeed a therian!

B - balance

Does your identity affect your social life (school, work, etc.)? Does it cause troubles or not?

It doesn't really affect my social life much, but I get phantom ears very often and it gets uncomfortable sometimes, and my friends often ask me if im ok bc I'm aggressively rubbing my palm against my head to try and get rid of my phantom shift :,)

C - city

Do you live in a city? If yes, is it hard for you to be away from nature? Does your therio/kintype even need nature?

I live in a sub-urban area (thankfully) because cities are pretty overwhelming for me. The area I live in has plenty of trees and bushes but it's mainly just in people's front yards and I wish there was a small forest nearby that I could walk around in, but sadly there isnt't :(

D - diary

Do you have a diary about your alterhuman experiences? If not, do you want to start one?

I used to, but I kept forgetting to add entries to it so I gave up lol

E - experience in the community

What is your experience and thoughts about the alterhuman community?

So far, everyone's been really nice! Everyone seems to be really supportive of eachother and I've only seen discrimination in the community once or twice. I'm also a little concerned about the nonhumans who are severely struggling mentally due to their nonhumanity.

F - friends

Have you told your friends about your identity?

My three closest friends know, and they're very supportive!

G - gear

Do you have any gear? If yes, is it handmade or bought?

I have an ear headband that my neighbour gifted me for christmas, and although the colours are wrong, I love it and wear it pretty often. I also have a half-finished yarn tail that's been a WIP for a couple months now because I can't find the time to finish it. And I also have a necklace with a green gem, a rainbow and a wolf pendant! It was originally just the gem to match with my best friend's purple gem, but then I added the rainbow (bc LGBTQ+) and the wolf pendant came from an old necklace I got alongside a book (Wolves of the Beyond, I def recommend) that I got in 2nd grade.

I - identity

What is (are) your therio/kintype(s)?

Vancouver coastal grey wolf, Turkish Angora, Western jackdaw, orca and banded linsang!

J - jokes

Do you like to make little jokes about your identity or is it rather serious for you?

Both! I don't really make jokes about it myself, but my friends often joke around about my nonhuman behaviours (in a nice way) and I laugh along :)

K - knowledge

In scale of 1-10, how big do you think your knowldege about alterhumans is? Are you new to this topic?

I'd say around a 6-7. I know pretty much all the basic stuff, but the more complicated stuff like physically-identifying nonhumans and otherlinks I don't really know much about yet, mainly because I've only recently heard about them.

L - liking, loving

Do you like your therio/kintype(s)? Do you love or dislike it/them?

I like my theriotypes a lot! I find my theriotypes really interesting, there's always something new to learn about my kind.

N - nature

Does your therio/kintype live in the wild, or rather not? (E.g. it's a house pet, or it's a robot.)

All my theriotypes are wild, except for my domestic cat theriotype.

O - otherhearted

Are you also otherhearted? If yes, what is your kithtype(s)?

I'm snakehearted!

P - popularity

Is your therio/kintype "popular" or is it rather rare?

I'd say my wolf theriotype is very "popular" if you just look at it like a wolf, but I've only seen one or two therians who are coastal wolves like me.

I see domestic cat therians everywhere so it's needless to say my cat theriotype is pretty "popular"

I see crow therians and raven therians a lot, but I've never met another jackdaw like me. I wonder why /gen

I used to think orca therians are rare, but after joining tumblr I found that there are quite a lot like me!

I've never seen another linsang therian, which makes sense because barely anyone knows asiatic linsangs even exist. They were discovered only in 2013 and we know next to nothing about their reproduction, social behaviours, and diet.

R - real body

Do you feel good about your physical body? Do you experience gender dysphoria?

I don't get gender dysphoria often, but I do get species dysphoria. A lot of the time I wish my legs were shaped differently, or my face was longer, or I had a tail, wings, etc.

S - sex

Does your therio/kintype have a different sex than you?

Yes! I identify dpecifically as a male dominant/"alpha" (I dont really like using that word to describe it)/pack leader wolf because I do not feel maternal instincts toward young wolves. I know this because when I look at pictures of kittens, or see actual kittens, I feel a strong urge to look after them, clean them up, protect them from danger, etc. Aside from these two theriotypes, I don't identify as a specific sex.

T - traits

What are your alterhuman traits? (E.g. a need to hunt, bark, ect.)

I get extremely aggressive toward people who wrong me or people close to me, and my typical response is to growl/snarl at them.

If a friend gets their hand close to my face, I try and play-bite but they always draw their hand away (understandably).

When I'm in a group of people, or I see a group of people, I can often tell who the "pack leader" is within a couple seconds, even if it's not obvious to a human.

Very wide smile during tense/awkward situations or any situation where I feel threatened. It's basically a snarl but bc im physically a stupid human, no one notices >:(

Sometimes I raise my shoulders and then shake myself all out (usually involuntarily), which is like the human equivalent of feather rousing

I sometimes also bump/rub my head on my (close) friends' shoulders as a way to greet them

U - urges

If you have a theriotype, are you good at controlling your animalistic urges? Do they bother you?

I'm fairly good at controlling my urges, but when I get angry I feel like I'm gonna lose control and just go feral on everyone. It's never actually happened though.

W - wondering

How do you think you would look like, if you could physically shapeshift into your therio/kintype? (Describe or put an image here!)

I think I'd just look like any other member of my species.

Y - yarn

If you wanted to buy/make a tail, would it be real fur or fake/yarn fur?

I prefer real fur, but I'd only buy it if I'm 100% certain it's not from a cruel fur farm. But if I'm unable to buy it, I'd make my own, from yarn (which I've already started doing).

Z - zoo

How do you feel about zoos (a place, not z00philes)? Are they good or bad in your opinion? Do you want to go there to meet your theriotype (if you are a therian).

I think zoos are okay (only ethical ones), I enjoy going to them and seeing all the cool animals there. Sadly none of my theriotypes are at any of the zoos I normally visit.

___________

:3

[ficauthor]

Summary:

The Trolls of Troll villiage have begun to wander, intense curiousity leads to the childeren and their parents finding a bit more than they bargained for.

Fic is under the cut if you dont wanna follow the link

Don’t get angry. Don’t abandon me. Don’t go anywhere. (Hey.)

It strangles me tightly, till I could throw up, whenever no one's, no one's around

Nice grades, huh? Hey, hey, aren’t I a good kid?

Aren’t I a cute kid? Hey, hey

I’m good, right? It hurts, hey

Love me. Love me. Love me, more and more

Love me. Lovе

Aishite Aishite Aishite by Ado

Sometimes, the veracious curiosity of a Troll caused problems. It wasn't often. Although to be truthful that was in part due to them swaddling themselves into a safe clearing for the past twenty years. It's hard to get into trouble if trouble wasn't your neighbour afterall. It was just the kind of clearing where nothing really happened. Trolls were happy in that place. They had fun. They explored. Disaster was no longer commonplace in their lives.

Life was simple.

As Trolls did, they partied their nights away.  

Aside from the recent kidnapping, life for a Troll was about as easy as it could get. Curiosity was nothing but a boon in every situation. 

Just this once however, Branch might have had a little bit of a point. Curiosity was about to cause a small amount of distress.

It started with some of the Trollings.

In the parents' defence they had no clue that Branch even had contraptions like this! So when their kids began to leap between them, with shuddering metallic snaps following directly after, they did not know this was of concern. Noises that came from the traps while jarring gave way to squeals of delight as the kids slipped past and above the radius of the jaws with ease. They did not know the danger those jaws of metal held. They had no clue the rhythmic nature of those snap-snap snaps could lead to maiming. Hair, they didn't know that a wrong movement could cause death.

Trolls just didn't have to contend with things like that. They were out of their nature.

Plus, they just looked like big toys.

"Hey!" Branch shouted his tone stern and a little wild. It matched the intensity of his eyes. Blue eyes. Those eyes were the only colour on that boy. Against the grey they really stood out, polished and piercing the blue was about as sharp as a nettle. Especially when almost glowing with frustration." Ge-get them off of those!" he demanded, his voice cracking in its gaps of words. Incandescent rage wasn't a rare emotion for them to push out of the Grey Troll, but it was rather early in their sleepover for it.

The parental group who'd been watching the little ones spring from trap to trap with mild amusement turned a scant brow raised in disbelief.

Here comes the party pooper. About to poo-poo on some kids having some harmless fun.

Branch Grabbed one kid midair. She was bright red with orange hair and enough energy to boot. Just holding her as she wriggled and kicked about was enough to sag further exhaustion onto Branch. Unbeknownst to the parents he'd grabbed the child just in time. Because the snap shut that time would have been slightly off, the sort of leap that would have led to travesty.  

The girl could have lost a leg.

"Do you even know what these are!" he demanded, holding the child under her arms still. The kid was still giggling stretched out and lanky like a critter-cat being dragged to a new spot by their owner. For all the danger around her, she still seemed entirely unaffected by it.

She was bouncing back quite nicely from the horrors of the night, her parent, Gemma Sr., mentally noted. It was good that the night wouldn't lead to any sorts of residual colour dampening from the kidnapping. 

"No?" The answer was tentative but still there.

Branch stared at them, his face unreadable, unrecognisable.  He almost looked like a stranger, before it shuddered into a very familiar frustration. That was the Branch they knew. Annoyed at the smallest things.

"Go to your parents, kid," he said, putting the now squirming Trolling down. Giggling Gemma Jr. ran to her mom.

Explaining to them that the new 'toys' that the Trollings had found were in fact traps clearly did not elicit the response he expected.

"You understand what I just told you right?" he asked them after a long winded explanation. 

The present Adults didn't know what he wanted from them. The kids were having fun, they were exploring, there was no downside to this. Blank confusion was all they could give him for a moment longer. His reactions made little sense.

That was, until he explained the way those exact traps functioned. In exact, excruciating detail. 

Functions of a jaw snapping trap were, to put it mildly, fairly horrifying. Rending of flesh was usually the sort of thing to unsettle a Troll. Especially to a parent who'd just complacently watched their kid play with one. Gemma held her girl tighter for a moment. 

"Why on earth do you have these?!" one parent exclaimed.

"Hey bud," Branch said finger to their chest," don't you forget you're in my home."

"Fine."

They all set to fix this- this... problem.

Because once the parents realised what it was their kids were jumping on, they knew that just could not continue. Messed up as it was for him to have this sort of thing, they couldn't solve it simply by complaining. Further, the kids were still triggering them within a breath of danger. Justified shock at Branch could be paused until the mess was cleaned. Branch would argue that the danger should have been obvious. One that they, the parents, argued no one reasonably should have to be worried about. Because keeping traps in one's home was extremely reckless. Because the traps that they knew were never this risky. 

They didn't argue this however. Because arguments were not in the Nature of a Troll. They disagreed strongly with his actions, he knew that now. Hopefully that was enough to change his mind

First task in dispelling the risk was to shoo the kids away from the traps. What a task that was. For children even when hearing the dangers of something did not always stop when requested.

Such was the nature of a Trolling afterall. These traps, even dangerous, were curious things. And as mentioned before the Trolls often were only concerned with one objective: Satisfy curiosity. Realising with some level of obviousness that this was a rare instance where they needed to stifle curiosity, at least long enough to get the traps out of reach that was, the Parents worked to get their stubborn children ushered away. As the rambunctious youths were shooed away with varying levels of success some nearby free adults gathered the traps as carefully as possible and set them at the top of a tall shelf.

All as Branch directed of course. They didn't think he'd let a single object get moved without his explicit permission.

He was very particular, that Branch.

Slowly like bugs in sap yet to fully realise they were stuck, they realised there were a lot of traps.

A lot, a lot.

More than initially thought as well. Enough to blanket a floor to a small room. If one had to count, there were at least 7 dozen there. If not more. To be honest at a certain point they did in fact stop counting. There was just a point where the information was not helpful to them. It was curious however how much they kept showing up. No matter how many they stacked away it was like three more took their place just after turning around.

Cleaning them just struck the parents again with it, what a reckless thing for Branch to have. Who knew how many traps he had. All loose and scattered about his home. What if a kid came across them as they had before? It was a rather nonsensical action on his behalf really.

Then again...

This was Branch after all. He'd crashed Uncle Ron Sr’s funeral because he thought there was a Bergen. When was he ever sensical?  A guy like him had to have traps. Of course he did. It was blatant with hindsight. It was funny even, them not realising that. 

As they got the last of them up and away, most of the group dwindled off, Branch pinched the bridge of his nose with a long, suffering sigh. 

“Please keep them from getting into stuff,” he implored the cluster of five parents that hadn't drifted off. His brow was still furrowed far too deeply for comfort but the soft worry in the depths of his eyes were enough to beguile the parents into agreement.

Russ, a Troll with early defined stress lines and a shock of yellow hair nodded,” Yeah, of course thank you for letting us stay Branch!” his grin was wide as were all of theirs. After all, smiles lead to more smiles. That was Troll law.

Or it usually was at least.

Branch shrunk under their gazes, looking to the side like it was more interesting,” yeah well,” he gestured weakly, almost as if he were reeling to say something but the will quickly drained out,” whatever.” he seemed to settle on.

Oh.

Odd reaction.

He was supposed to smile.

One of them was moments from remarking that before something crashed to the side.

This made Branch jump and turn with reflexes faster than a blink to the noise. “Hey! stop that!” Branch shouted running towards the crash.

Looking in the direction revealed to the parents a splattering of shattered glass and nuts spilled across the floor. It was quite the scene. The Trolls who’d all been previously standing there, now hung from supports on the ceiling by their hair. Some swung a little as if in the wind.

It’d be funny if it was so clearly causing distress to their host.

Okay it was a little funny

Now with Branch off berating another set of Trolls, they stood. The air between them briskly soured from its previous comfort. Yet between them it was hard to place what so keenly felt disquieting.

Trollings having nonsuch qualms as their parents peeled off in every direction. Already eager to bounce off the place’s every wall.

“Stay safe!” Bumbles shouted in the direction of their own, voice shaking, but the five knew this was all but moot. Those kids together or not had one thing in common, they’d cause trouble.

"This place is… interesting.” Gemma Sr. finally broached

Quietly they all hummed “yeah”. 

When Branch had been there his presence made talking about it feel strange. It was reality yes, but they just knew Branch would take what they had to say the wrong way. 

"Very reckless of him!"

"No way to live really."

"This isn't the Troll way. This sort of thing must be why he's so grey!"

Gemma Sr. agreed with the points, she herself would have added one to the pile, if that Trap wasn't gleaning so sinisterly from the top of the bookshelf like that.  It had looked so innocent before. Like a toy really. Almost like a Springing jump platform of some sort. It looked like a mean cousin to something they used to get up levels around the village. 

Friends still talking she took a step nearer to that bookshelf.  Troll curiosity was a tether to her at the best of times and now it was tugging her quickly.

It was just so, so- Interesting. 

She'd said it before, half distracted and uncertain, but it still applied.

Interesting was certainly a word.

The parents, her friends, despite knowing it to be impolite, continued their gossip. Newfound freedom of Branch’s scrutiny made it feel strangely like a good idea.

“This is odd, no?“

Another nodded, “yeah, yeah scary even.”

But Gemma who'd before had her daughter of the same name pulled from hopping between dangerous metal jaws. Found herself unable to hear that because her focus was on one thing, and one thing only.

Pulled towards the traps instead of the conversation. Not to play like her daughter had but to admire its craftsmanship. 

Cautiously she grabbed one from its shelf and turned it over.

There was nothing like this at all for sale in the village. No one traded in traps really. If you needed a trap they were usually harmless, made of rope and always intended to be directly undone after. Violence isn't really in their nature so why would they?

But the metal work was smooth and precise. Smoother than someone like Branch should be able to achieve. Gemma was very familiar with metal working, considering her family professions. So she knew with certainty that to make something like that took a great deal of skill and finesse. Both of which were alien to her in how Branch obtained them.

It was sort of brilliant in its simplicity. She wasn't a tinkerer like Norfin by any means but Gemma knew enough. The center plate the kids had taken to leaping on as a spring-loaded mechanism was the trigger. Like the ones around the village it had springs to keep it going but these springs looped to the jaws. Its plate clunked powerfully upon being pressed. The sheer speed in which it then snapped the Jagged jaws shut was incredible. If it snapping her daughter's leg wasn't such a visceral image in her mind she'd be far more impressed. 

Its curve was so smooth, so clean she half wondered if he had a curve press somewhere in this bunker. Because no one could get a curve like this by hand. Troll upper body strength was just too limited for that. It was easy for larger species, something they could sneeze at even, but Trolls? They were measured in centimetres. 

The hinges and metal meeting points, while able to bend and snap, were rigid in this closed configuration. There wasn't the faintest wiggle. 

How did he make this? Who taught him? Why? 

All puzzling questions to say the least. Still that last one seemed more pertinent. 

What exactly were those traps for?

Surely not a critter problem. They'd been there for hours and there was no sight of those yet. Even the more abundant ones had yet to rear their ugly heads. 

Not to mention most pest critters were far, far smaller than a trap like that would be effective on. They’d miss the arc of the teeth as they slammed shut without having to even duck. So not for weevil-mice. Or any other, heck even the largest silver-glitterfish wouldn’t get harmed by it. 

Then hunting maybe? It’d make sense they were omnivores by technicality. Trolls just mostly opted for sweets instead of meats. Maybe that was just another in a long list that made Branch so different.

They really had to get that boy to accept help before he became a lost cause.

Comforting thought of that aside, Gemma rejoined the conversation with other parents. 

Stepping in, she found Crystal to be the one speaking. Her youngest was peeking and giggling from her tall orange hair but largely no one commented. When Gemma went onto mining, her little sister went into jewellery making. 

“Gosh I must've moved thirty of those traps,” Crystal laughed. “He just kept pointing out more for us to put away!”

Russ smiled,” Oh hair, was it a lot. I'm just glad the snap traps took half the time when we got to them.”

Russ as mentioned before had early defined wrinkles around his eyes. Gemma and the others knew it was from his years of hard labour in the sun even as a Trolling. As a root farmer who inherited his family's land and farm this confined space seemed to be the antithesis of what he’d enjoy. But Gemma found that he always managed to surprise her. While not his farm he seemed perfectly at home. Him and his husband Norfin.

Nodding Bumbles, one of the village's many beeherder communicators, spoke in their low rasp,” well that's Branch for you!”

And wasn't that the truth. Branch’s other traps, the snap traps as they'd come to call them, alone came in a wide variety of sizes. Most looked like the kind of thing that'd be useful and practical for the winter seasons. When weevil-mice pillaged their food stores the worst. Those actually made sense as an invention to Gemma, that had a use that wasn't able to be inflicted on a Troll. But some of them looked big enough to snap a Bergen’s finger.

Norfin was a tinkerer, so much did he talk about things like this that his expertise had rubbed onto his husband over the years. Gemma was quick to confirm her suspicions about the traps. About the level of skill. Russ being somewhat versed in tinkering as well was able to pitch in his own opinions. They all agreed. The work was sublime. He remarked that it was very well maintained, probably a few years old, but not a lick of rust was to be found. 

That was more to be said than about some of the mining machines in the Mines.

Stranger, aside from those Branch had things even Norfin couldn't recognize! He and Russ were the foremost experts on contraptions, if anyone would know these traps she'd expected him. Unless…Unless Branch invented them.

Thought of Branch spending all his time alone down here inventing fiddly little traps was sad. Nay not just sad it was the kind of thought that'd turn a Troll grey!  

Proper Trolls should be out partying! 

But on this floor alone with Branch running around and setting up tarps to protect projects no one was really able to nose in further. 

Yet.

Gemma Jr. like her mother was deeply curious about everything. Such was her right as a Troll.  At times it got her into trouble, but it was less than one would expect that was for sure. So when she decided to follow Mr. Branch for a while she knew that very likely nothing bad would result of this. After all, Mr. Branch was a Troll, which meant he was a friend. 

Her tail swished and flicked in excitement as she followed from a distance. Mr. Branch was a very smart guy, she knew that much, so she kept as far as possible. At times having him at the edges of her vision. She even used larger adult Trolls and the odd piece of furniture to duck behind if he ever turned around. He'd yet to catch her. It was quite thrilling. Occasionally some of the adults would see her duck behind them and they all just shook their heads and smiled. 

Mr. Branch was very silly. Always running around yelling loudly about things. Some of the things he got mad about made a bit of sense. Like when someone tipped and broke a jar of nuts. That made a really big mess. There was glass and nuts everywhere! It spread so far she was pretty sure it was close to a larger measurement, like a foot.

But other stuff like going to mess with the controls to his elevator made less sense. The other Trolls had been pulling the lever back and forth making the elevator shift up and down never really finishing its trip to either end. Something about that really made Mr. Branch upset.  

Mostly though he was okay. A little different but Gemma went to school with Keith, she knew different. Different was just different. Mr. Branch sometimes scared her when she was a little younger. Mainly just because thinking of Bergens was a nightmare for any Trolling. She got used to him though.  

He just cared different.

And he had to care about them an awful lot to try and warn them so much.  At least once a week he'd come into town yelling and screaming about Bergens. Warning everyone that they were in grave danger. Even if he was wrong she could tell he believed it. Mr. Branch didn't look like a liar. He never said it, but he cared.  Gemma knew she wouldn't be warning everyone, even wrongly, if she didn't care; so Mr. Branch had to be the same in that regard. He was still a Troll afterall.  One that was always worried, even now in the bunker she'd seen him fuss over a half a dozen Trolls, but at the end of the day he was still a Troll.

He was someone she wanted to learn more about. 

So she slipped between the adults, using her small stature to weave through and dodge.

Mr. Branch sometimes left her line of sight. He was at the edges of it. Never for longer than a few minutes though. When he came back he was always holding something new.

First a large rolled tarp.

Or maybe it was a canvas. It was thick and with large threads. It looked very clean so maybe it was a canvas. Gemma Jr. didn't know he could paint. Really she didn't know much about him at all. She was kind of excited about the prospect of seeing him make art. He didn't look like the type but Mr. Branch also didn't look the type to invite them in for a big sleepover. His place needed art. A lot of it. The walls were all boring and grey rock. She wondered if Mr. Branch would like one of her finger paintings from school. 

Then he had a big mallet.

It reminded her of one of Auntie Crystal's tools. The ones Gemma wasn't allowed to use without adult supervision. Especially after she and Opal hit each other with them. Auntie Crystal used her mallet to add texture to metal plates in jewellery. It was really pretty. Gemma didn't know how she did it. Every time Gemma had tried it just looked like a dent in the metal. Except her Auntie's was all gleaming metal and tipped with a ball at the end. Branch's was all wood and far more blunt. A plain cylinder attached to a handle. What kind of shapes would that make in metal?

Lastly, he got some big nails.

They were as long as her arm and thick as could be. She really didn't know what something like that could be used for. They were so much bigger than the ones used to hang pictures, or the ones she saw in Great Aunt Grout's toolbag. Come to think of it, she was also banned from playing with her Great Aunt's tools. But that one wasn't on her. She didn't even hit Opal with it or anything. Some of the nails spilled all over the floor but she got nearly all of them before mom came home. She had no clue that there was still some by the door!

Curiosity may eat the critter-cat but she'd committed by now. Gemma Jr. was going to find out what Mr. Branch was doing, and why. His favourite colour. Maybe how he knew Bergens were coming.  Oh! she could ask him his favourite dessert! Then if she were lucky she'd learn what made Mr. Branch grey. No one in the entire village knew that! Not even the elders. She'd be the first ever and the one to fix him. A lofty goal maybe, but she was a lofty Trolling. 

"You gotta stop following me kid." Mr. Branch said. 

She jumped. she'd been so caught up in what questions she wanted to ask that she'd missed him slipping away and getting behind her.

"Why? Wait- How'd you do that!"

She hadn't heard him at all. He was silent without even the slightest swish of a tail. Like he wasn't even there! He was so cool!

" 'Cause your parents probably don't want you near me, and years of practice, kid. Now bye, I have work to do." He turned back around, marching away, items thrown over his shoulder. 

She scrambled to follow him.

"Work?"

"Yes, work."

"But you're home?" she meant to tell him plainly, but she was never good at hiding her underlying questions. 

"What about it?" his tone was entirely distracted as by now he was using a ladder to pin the tarp way up high on the wall. Gemma was just looking at him though. He was very strange.

Working at home.

"Home is where the fun is Mr. Branch." she told him. 

He shrugged," Maybe work is fun for me. Ever think of that?"

She pondered that for a moment. Work, fun? She'd never found work fun. It was named that for a reason. Work was work. Fun was fun. There was no overlap. Especially her homework from school. Oh. Homework, homework. Well maybe there was some overlap. Did adults get homework? She thought after school was done you were done with that. Or was it just Mr. Branch who enjoyed it?  Could it really be fun? For him? She'd never thought he looked like he was having fun when he did his work. Sometimes on quiet days she'd see him wander through the forest working. Gathering food, Collecting sticks, she couldn't ever say he was a picture of happiness at the time. He just looked...

Lonely. 

Really really lonely.

Even in the pod of the school she thought he looked like he needed a hug.

Mr. Branch was silent, occasionally looking over to her as he drove the nails into the wall. She'd been quietly looking at him for a while now. The tarp was almost entirely installed now. She ran a hand on its course surface.

"Why the Tarp?"

Mr. Branch was silent for a second. He looked like he didn't have an answer. "To protect the wall." He was staring at the covered wall awfully hard.

"What from?"

"What is this twenty questions?" Mr. Branch didn't look very happy.

He looked annoyed. His tone wasn't mean but she jumped still from the sudden tone shift. She didn't mean to upset him

"I- sorry."

Mr. Branch sighed," It's fine."

It did not sound fine. She probably only had one question she could ask him before he sent her away officially. Question really was, what question? She couldn't just ask him anything. Especially annoyed.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me or do you have something to say?" he was looking at his handiwork. She wasn't sure what was so interesting about it.

"How'd you know?"

She looked up at him from the backside of the ladder peering her face between the support beams. He looked kind of like he was trapped through it. 

"Know what?"

"That the Bergens would come back!" She said," no one else knew."

His eyes were really wide. But not for long, he went back to normal very quickly. Mr. Branch shrugged his shoulders, hands shaking while clenched to the ladder. 

"It's in their nature," He told her. it sounded so simple when he put it like that.

"Because they can't be happy otherwise?" she asked.

He shook his head, stepping down the ladder slowly. "Because they are greedy, and don't care about us. Our pain is meaningless to them."

She frowned," How do you know that Mr. Branch?" 

He looked at her. There was an expression there she was too young to comprehend.

"Common sense," he said after a long pause. He put all his tools and remaining nails down at the ladder. "Now come on, we should get you back to your mom."

"Okay!"

She grabbed his hand and threw them both into the mix of Trolls. Mr. Branch seemed a little surprised that she took his hand but he didn't talk about it. If anything she was leading their walk. He probably should be in charge of that, being a grown-up and all, but he stayed with her the entire walk all the same. Only saying goodbye once she was with her mom.

He was a nice guy Branch. Even if mom didn't want her 'messing with him'.

Sometime late into what was possibly early morning or late night, a loud piercing whistle from the elevator pulled the Trolls all towards the man of the hour, Branch. “Okay everyone, we’re going upstairs!”

There were some protests sprinkled across the room. They’d gotten rather settled on this floor after all. Some Trollings in particular were upset, one stomping his little Trolling foot at the command. He liked this floor. It had so many cool things! The crowd largely agreed and was greatly displeased. Late hour that it was was no doubt contributing. Branch's tone was also not helping either. 

Swells of arguments from them were headed by none other than their King.

“Everyone!” he called out in a soft assuring voice only he, as their ruler could manage. Peppy’s strong aged voice calmed them.” Branch is our host, as guests we best follow his lead!”

“Oh I guess that makes sense.” someone muttered and the rest of the grumbles faded to waves of pleasant agreement. 

Like a spell had fallen upon them the Trolls each came to a generalised consensus that Branch was right afterall.

Group by group they followed him up to the main living area.

Interesting as the bottom floor was, filled with trinkets and traps, and a weird wall made of tarp, the next floor up was much more comfortable.

Clearly this was his actual living area. Truthfully that was relieving. Some of the Trolls had begun to worry that Branch lived on that impersonal bottom floor! Where there were no couches and no beds, just storage as far as the eye could see. This floor was much more welcoming than the previous. The walls were lined with tarp covered bins but there was a couch; overstuffed and soft looking. Looking at it made some of the Trolls feel like throwing themselves upon it and taking a long long rest. But they at least had enough dignity and humility to hold that back. Old and of solid wood in the corner was a shelf. Tall and teetering next to his couch it was almost comical in proportion compared to the couches own squat demeanour.

Where on the floor below's shelf was stuffed to the brim with manuals and how-to's this one appeared much more casual in placement. Books of average disposition perhaps. They at least looked normal. None of them looked half as boring, and they each had more respectable thicknesses. Some Trolls recognized them to be books borrowed from the library. Not a lot of them really. Only about five. None of them could be overdue either because the librarian couldn't help but share whenever a book was late. Couldn't be helped he claimed, he just had to complain about it. Not a very attractive quality in a Troll, complaining, but he kept it very limited to only that.

Branch must be a fast reader. For never had the librarian ever spoke a sour word of him and his borrowing tendencies.

On either side of the couch and the shelf were arm chairs. Equally as plush and tempting as his couch. But they struck the Trolls as being far newer than it. The couch was covered with mends and patches and these arm chairs while still scuffed appeared to only have minimal darning.

There was enough seating for a casual hangout. 

Maybe Branch just preferred variety in his seating. It was a little bit of a silly rationale but to their defence why else would he have enough seating for six?  It wasn't like he ever had guests.

Branch was rather minimal and practical when it came to interior design. The couch was a faded old worn green. It smelled of moss and was even its exact shade. The shelf was hewn by hand with simple carving down the sides. The armchairs, mismatched, in golden yellow and teal but fit the pallet of soft colours going in the room.  Final touch was the plush grey carpet across the ground and the furs that draped across the furniture. It was cozy, warm, and felt like a den. Some small instinctual part of the Trolls long locked away felt at home in this foreign environment. 

It wasn't the bright colours they were used to, the glitter they loved, or even Cooper's favoured neons, but it felt just as comfortable. Like a blanket in winter’s morn’.

The connected dining room was similar, a long table of wood and stone, with six seats. Each chair smooth carved wood adjoined with stone bases perfectly. They were almost entirely polished and unpainted but upon closer inspection it was clear they were inlaid with colourful patterns.  The head had purple and mint decals in swirls and puzzle piece cut outs. It looked the most polished of the chair seats. 

The other five all had the same carvings of triangles. Each, however, had a different pair of colours. To puzzles and swirls’ right was one with cyan and blue. Then next to that chair was cyan and pinky-red. Its second head was teal and cyan. Next to it was purple and cyan with the final being yellow and cyan. Of all of them the one set with blue looked the sloppiest and least polished. Overall it was such a nice set. Clearly hand made, hand carved, and hand painted.

Compliments about the Chairs made Branch grumble and look at the elevator again.

It was slightly more cramped in the large open air concept living room, but it was manageable for the Trolls.  It also helped that by nature of being Trolls they were deeply curious beings. Just residing in this new room had them all fascinated and staring. This bunker was just waiting to be understood and discovered. it was only a matter of time

Gemma Sr., Crystal, Russ & Norfin, and Bumbles let their kids roam this new floor with the promise that if they found any more traps they’d get an adult first. They were disappointed they had to promise not to jump on dangerous multi pound force weapons to say the least. Russ and Norfin’s twins pouted but begrudgingly accepted the stipulation. Gemma Jr. was upset but her cousin, Opal, managed to reel her back in. At least Bumbles’ boy didn't really care. Never had the Parents thought that their own children would be disappointed by being kept from harm's way!

Still the children set off again to explore and a seed of worry was blossoming in the chests of the five Parents. It wasn't that the adults meant to be nosy. Especially with how generous Branch’s permission to even be there was. But after their little ones had played so brazenly with the jaw traps (further that they'd not known at all!) the five adults silently agreed to look around carefully for a bit. Just to make sure.

They still couldn't believe that Branch would be so reckless. He'd always struck them as a fairly cautious sort of guy. So for him to have left all of these traps out willy-nilly when he had guests! Well it was shocking that was for certain,

Bumbles, found that the buckets and bins laid with tarps over top were overflowing with  sharpened sticks, arrows, and rocks. So many sticks. Between it they were surprised the forest still had any debris at this point..

Was this normal for him? 

Surely not. This isn't normal for a Troll at least. So definitely this couldn't be his norm.

“I always wondered what he did with all those sticks.” Russ admitted quietly to his group of fellow parents. His hand was clutching onto Norfin's for comfort.

Oh, right. The memories of Branch nearly always holding bundles of sticks as he passed slotted into their minds with clarity. He'd been doing this for how long? Gemma remembered first seeing him do so five years ago. Crystal could swear it was further back. Russ didn't even know when he first saw the other Troll do that.

Honestly it was just their normal…

The birds chirped, the pods swayed in the wind, shops opened for the morning, and Branch Gathered his sticks. It was a normal part of life. Gemma Sr. saw him pass her entrance to the mines every morning, arms laden with sticks.  Crystal could see him out her window. Russ and Norfin would wave once he passed the farm, even Bumbles had been known to see him once in a while; the bees even occasionally buzzed at him in welcome. 

Branch's gathering tendencies was an average background hum to the song of a Troll's day. Nearly every Troll saw him in some form or fashion. Oddly though, they'd never really pondered the why before. Maybe this was his normal after all. If he gathered supplies, then they had to be used for something. That something was just quite frankly bizarre. 

Russ thought about it and it was like he'd seen Branch gather sticks ever since he was a Trolling.  Which was impossible since he was much older than Branch but Gemma understood the sentiment. Who was Branch if not the guy they’d seen collecting sticks for forever.

Something about those buckets on buckets of weapons was fixating. The longer they looked the worse the trance became. But at the very least the buckets were too tall for the average Trolling.

Crystal gasped, pulling the attention of the friends. She grabbed Gemma's arm and shook it.

“Guys look!”

They followed her finger. Nestled in a way they somehow missed was a hallway. It wasn't very big and wasn't very small. It was rounded at the top with occasional swinging lanterns down it. The rock much like the rest of those within the living area floor was lined with wood panelling. At times they could almost forget that they were underground. Then the corner of dirt and rocks invaded their sense of smell around the edges and they were reminded again that just out the door was not sun, but more rocks. Down this hall was a number of doors. Their frames were painted to match the chairs of the dining room. It was a very fun detail.

“We should totally check that out!” Crystal suggested.

Gemma looked down the hall. One of these doors was probably Branch's bedroom. And she couldn't lie she was curious what that looked like. 

Branch Never really told them anything. So looking made sense. If he couldn't tell them things he could show them! These doors snagged the curiosity of a Troll's inner child like no other. They were clean, well painted, and had letters carved in at the tops. The letters were probably some sort of Branch code for what went into each room. 

“Cryssie I dunno about this,” Bumbles rung their hands like a towel. “this is Branch’s bunker. It's one thing to look for weapons but to enter one of these closed rooms? Isn't it rude?”

“Aren't you just a little bit curious?” she doubled down.

“Of course I am but I also want to wake up in the morning!”

“Don’t be such a Branch, Bubs.”

“I am Not-!”

“Hey,” Gemma stepped between them. Their antics were only fun for so long. “How about we check out one room.”

“Aw.” 

“It's better than none.”

“I'd rather none.” Bumbles mumbled.

“Bumbles you can leave. If you don't want to be involved in the snooping you can just leave.”

Bumbles grumbled out ,” no I'll go.”

“Well I pick this one!” Crystal said flinging open the teal border door without a second thought.

Maybe there should have been.

As that door opened something in the room clicked. It was a faint, almost imperceptible noise. It was a miracle it could be heard over the din of chatter created by the Trolls at all. Still they heard it, even just barely.

Then it strained.

Like a cord was being stretched, almost to its limit.

Before:

Twang!

Gave them the only auditory warning they got as an arrow was shot from the center of the room. 

Blurred motion and racing hearts filled that little hallway.

Gemma thanked her hair that Crystal had always been quick thinking because right before it was about to launch, point first into her eye, she managed to dodge in just enough time so that it only grazed her temple. This froze the group around the door. Their arguments ceased. Even curiosity was silent for a moment. As they all processed the arrow firmly lodged in the wall across from them. That could have hurt Crystal. Just like the Traps. 

An Arrow?!

At this, they knew their search should stop soon. If not now. There was, after all, no clearer omen than nearly getting an arrow to the eye.

Crystal put a shaky hand to her temple. No blood came off. Though she swore she could have felt the skin break. Gemma Sr.'s tail wrapped around her own in comfort.

They should be walking away now, closing that hair forsaken door and asking Branch what the big idea was. After all, what if one of the kids opened this door!

But they didn't. Because the door was already opened. And they just starred. Nothing else seemed to be triggered but honestly they were a little too dazed to be worrying exactly about that.

In the room were dozens of discarded complicated tripwire traps spinning to connect to crossbows. Many looked to be in a state of disrepair, the room was a mess. It looked like all but the one that's shot at them were disarmed. The one that'd taken aim was in the center of the floor, tipped on its side and smoking furiously. Whatever its purpose was beyond a single shot it was not well equipped. The contraption was entirely decommissioned. 

Against better judgement they leaned into the room further. Afterall if it all was down then entering would be safe. Charred wood, and hot metal were the only smells in that room. It was roughly the size of a bedroom, with more traps than all of the downstairs combined shoved in its every corner. If they thought it was excessive before. 

Peaking in further revealed something strange. Uncovered by traps, or projects, in the center of the room lay a stiff dusty bed with a teal duvet and-

The door slammed shut, making them all stumble back.  Crystal felt the arrow touch the side of her face again. This time it in rest. Somehow it was more threatening that way.

Closing between the door and them with a glare Branch stared them down menacingly. He looked less than pleased by their voracious curiosity. 

With a stalk he stepped nearer, then with a wrench he tore that Arrow from the wall. His lips and nose curled at its tip as he examined it. It was stuffed into his hair before anyone could ask.

“Don't think about it!” he managed out, clearly ready to ream them to cream. "That room is off limits, understand?"

They nodded meekly.

"So is-" he said before of course once again getting pulled to another disaster.

They didn't know if it was a blessing or curse, him having to fix another's mess.

“Use a coaster, people!” well, maybe not a disaster in a traditional sense at least. “And don't touch that door again!” he tossed back to them, he looked like he had more to say but he was already gone. Slipped between the bodies of the Trolls, telling them off for some transgression.

Deflated and awkward from nearly losing a friend to a booby trap the five stepped backwards from the hall.

Curiosity had never failed them before like this!

Fully intent not to push their luck any further. Good luck Trolls or not. They made it about ten steps before one of the kids was barreling towards them something strange, misshapen and smoking in hand. It was Ace, one of the twins. He'd inherited his parent's messy hair and was jumping up and down at the group of adults, a handful of something in hand. The boy was excited by his discovery.

"I found something!" he crowed excitedly. Behind him was his twin Galoob also hopping up and down his own contraption held in his hands.

"-We" Galoob corrected.

"We-We found something!" Ace corrected.

To Norfin's eye it was the most complex mess of weaponry yet. He could not really tell them what it did, as that was entirely out of his wheelhouse but he knew something dangerous when he saw it.

"Where did you find this?" he asked his boys.

The kids perked up as children do when they get to show off a neat thing they found. "Follow me!"

So they did, by now some of the Trolls were settling down sitting around in comfortable spots or pooed into corners having conversations. There was still the odd Troll to dodge but they twins were able to easily lead the adults to the spot. 

There were hunks of metal left over from projects, and chunks of abandoned experimental defence mechanisms; fashioned from what Grout recognized as their disposed of scraps when asked for her opinion. It was laid in a messy heap but its serrated edges and twisting barbs of metal just looked dangerous. There were things in that pile that didn't look like weapons. But what else could they be? Branch was meticulous so if it was with the weapons it had to be one. 

Gemma squeaked out a comment about it being interesting. For what was she supposed to say? 

Others staring on with her also laughed, it released the tension but just barely. 

Norfin, being a tinkerer, was fascinated by its interlay. Some of the metal work and wiring was delicate, far more delicate than even his senior apprentice had ever managed. The kind of finesse that only he and his husband, Russ, could pull off. Or so he thought at least. Aside from that however he could not recognize its purpose. The contraptions all twisted and contorted as if they were broken, and maybe they were, it was hard to know.

Soon however more pressing questions came to the forefront. Should they move it away from the kids? Probably. Branch would help, most likely, if they asked. But he was busy trying to stop another Troll from messing with his stove so he was preoccupied to say the least.

"Thank you boys," Russ said ruffling the hair of them both,' why don't you guys find your friends and play while we take care of this."

"Okay!"

"Sure."

The boys ran off without argument. It was lucky for the parents. There was a lot here to process. Silently the quintet of Gemma sr., Bumbles, Crystal, Russ, and Norfin came to an agreement.  Better to ask forgiveness than permission after all. This was an unofficial, official Troll motto, one they all fell in line with when push came to shove. And at the end of the day Branch was a Troll, so he’d understand

The pile itself wasn't difficult to pick up. It was making sure they got all of the most dangerous parts that was. But eventually the five wrangled metal sheets and serrated blades from his workstation to a room with a door. 

Not the one from before, that was a lesson they learned the hard way, and say what you would about Trolls they were good at learning from mistakes, and getting shot at and berated was as good a teacher as any. 

No this door was a bit down the way from the first. Where the first door was bordered by a faded teal frame chipped from age, this one had purple.

The room was-

It set a new strange feeling in them. Like the first it was clearly a bedroom but not Branch's bedroom. The bed large and plush had a duvet in gentle violet, it had the crisp unused corners of a bed never slept in. The room smelt of dust and storage. There was a small stack of beach vacation magazines on the foot. Set as if for someone specific. Its placement screamed intentionality like all of the bunker did.

Yet, that made no sense. Branch never had guests. They were the first Trolls to be so. As far as anyone knew at least.

Contrasting to the welcoming setup of the bed area was the rest of the room. Floor to ceiling the walls held shelves which held jars. Each jar was painstakingly labelled and slightly dusty. Seemed like the room was glorified storage now. Shame too, that bed looked very nice.

Nearest to Bumbles the glow of a jar called to them. Softly they swore it sang, as if the concoction itself were alive. Aloft it’s soul called to them, they felt all but compelled to do whatever it wanted. But whatever could such a thing want? Purple liquid laid inert its wax coated lid sealed tight. Something about its shade tempted them to crack that open and drink it. It looked, alluring.

Not that they would, this wasn’t their home, they had no clue what it even was. Drinking strange liquids was a bad idea.

Tied in twine was a label in clean handwriting.

“Bell-Madonna flower petal extract”

Oh. 

ice dunked away the warmth they'd been receiving from its aura. The feeling suddenly felt less friendly, and far more predatory. Yet still that impulse to do as it asked lingered.

Bumbles wasn't a forager, their family traditionally pursued beeherding, like Gemma's and Crystal's did mining and jewellery making. Beeherding whilst primarily focused on the bee's had a minor focus in flowers. It was important to know the types and flavours in case the hive suddenly struck a distaste for a plant. Even if he hadn't, everyone knew that flower. It was vital to survival to know that flower. If you were a Troll you had to learn about it. You were taught as a young Trolling to avoid it. It was common sense in the way that ‘avoid Bergens’ was.

Magically gifted, as Trolls were, with a beautiful voice the flower was known to sing one's soul song. The song that specifically resonated with a Troll deep down. A song many Trolls strived to pen into reality. Many Trolls had tried and failed to sing the exact tune of their soul song, it resonated that deeply. A song that once heard many Trolls would do anything to hear again. Sung with a voice only rivalled by its small stunning blossom downturned and purple. Its bell would spin an entrancing siren song, one that could tell one something important about themself or their destiny. It was once rumoured that the flower could find compatible soul songs, something like a soulmate, and lure pairs. But scarce few Trolls were allowed near it because even though its berries could be harvested for a number of powerful tonics it had a taste for Troll.

Like many creatures larger than them the Bell-Madonna flower sought to eat them. It’d ensnare a Troll, cocooning them snugly in its gossamer petals. It'd then drain them of their magic like a parasite. In the end the Troll would be all but dead, if not fully so, and then it'd use the body as fertiliser. Only then would the berries be able to mature. It was a grisly gruesome thing, like Bergens they preferred to ignore it as much as possible. Still like Bergens at least bare minimum information was needed.

It was forbidden to collect its mature berries for use. The cost of life was deemed too heavy many generations ago, even before they fell into the hands of Bergens. 

Granted it stated that it was petal extract but to think Branch had gotten that close to the flower. Bumbles didn't think it was possible, Dandelion told them it required a whole team. He‘d told them in great detail once just how dangerous an extraction of its immature berries was. They couldn't imagine getting that close to the flower. It was unheard of.

They needed to not think about this. It wasn't very Troll-like of them to worry like this.

The jar next to it was “venom of the one eyed one horned flying purple Troll eater”. Okay bad focus they’d try the next. It wouldn't do to be 'a Branch about this'  as their friends often told them.

“Preserved flame pouch of carnivorous crimson vine-snake’’

On and on that shelf had horrifying dangerous extract after terrifying dangerous poison after terrible dangerous venoms! Had he no sense of caution? Under each jar on the shelf below were jars labelled as their antidotes so at the very least he had cures.

Bumbles tore themself from the sight. They'd get lost on the extracts and potions if they didn't. Bumbles needed to remember why they were even there. This was to keep the kids safe. They weren't going to be there long. The sooner they found a spot for the dangerous pieces of… something, the better.

Between the practical shelves there was a painting of a large Spruce tree. The mural itself had no cover of shelves on it but being nestled directly between the two shelves made it easy to miss. As it was, Bumbles only caught it because that's where the room's desk was.

The desk was probably the best spot for the contraptions. 

Crystal broke their silence, asking tentatively just what the hell this was. 

No one had a response to that, like Crystal this unnerved them all. Being in the room felt like a violation. As if the threshold had an invisible line they accidentally crossed. Suddenly Bumbles' heart beat erratically. Branch wouldn't be happy that they were snooping in this room. He'd be very mad if he found out. He’d reacted badly just to them looking in the last room. And this one was filled wall to wall with poisons.

This was a bad idea. Branch was such a private Troll. He'd hate them being in there.

Just as Bumbles was about to suggest they leave, however, they were distracted by the closet. Its doors were mirrored and rolled open, just inside was a stack of weights and hanging on its singular hanger was a puffy vest. It should not be as distinctive as it was. It was just a vest, but maybe it was its mundanity in the room filled with danger that made it so drawing.

It was vaguely familiar, its shade of purple certainly got a song stuck in their head. They couldn't place the song, it was comforting though. Well-known like a summer morning. Its indistinct chords and peppy rhythm lulled the rapid heart in their chest to a more regular pace. The fact that nothing else was in there really perplexed them. The entire room was inlaid floor to ceiling with shelves, it screamed practicality over comfort. But that unused closet and pressed bed implied something that made their head hurt. A contradiction in how they knew the Grey Troll to function.

Usually questions about Branch were laughed off. "Well that's Branch for ya!" tended to be the response whenever he acted peculiarly. But in this shrine they were louder than ever. Was this room dedicated to a lost loved one?

“Branch is rather prepared isn’t he?” Gemma laughed as she said it but it wasn't the same laugh as always. They all knew it was forced. But they didn't comment. 

Something about Branch's home was settling in for them. Uncomfortably and deeply in their bones one by one they were realizing something was wrong. Extremely, really wrong with their grumpy neighbour. It couldn't be normal to store this level of weaponry… right?

“What in the muses are you doing in here!”  Branch disheveled, and livid demanded. Bumbles had no clue why he was such a wreck but the sight was terrifying.

No such fear held their friends back. Especially Crystal, as she was trying to explain that they were taking his contraption to a safer location, so the kids couldn’t get to it.

This somehow was the wrong thing for her to say, Branch's eyes twitched,” You five thought you could just come into my house, take my things and move them?” he harangued the question rhetorically because he kept going, “I never gave you permission for any of that! Why are you in his room? What are you- is that my- never mind!’ his face was dark with frustration.

Russ, bless his heart, decided then as Branch took in a breath was a good moment to speak.

He tried, in silly vain, to compliment the grey Troll for his handiwork,” You know this metal work is really impressive, and the wires are very intricate!” his grin was weak.

Something dark flitted on Branch’s face. He grumbled something out as he glared at the half formed project before snatching it from their arms.

“Get out,” he said between gritted teeth, ”leave hi- this room. Before I change my mind and kick you out the bunker all together

They all nodded frantically only barely managing to duck out of the room before it was slammed behind them.

"I think something's wrong." Bumbles squeaked out. In honesty they weren't sure what they felt or how to articulate it.

Gemma shrugged," You know Branch Bumbles, always being a big worrier. He's probably just worried we breathed too hard on something."

Everyone began to slowly filter away from the Hall and its forbidden doors.

"Maybe..." Bumbles looked back at the door

A muffled groan/scream made Branch’s feelings on the matter clearer.

Bumbles was just being a Branch about it. There wasn't anything to worry about, just Branch being Branch.

[westiec]

do you have any thoughts on modern au neighbours to besties to queerplatonic relationship wei ying and yanli? 👀

oh my gosh nonny you asked this a million million years ago and boy do I EVER

Modern AU neighbors starts out when they're apartment neighbors and become friends through any number of fun means such as:

WWX cooking disaster that sets off the building fire alarm -> JYL offering to teach him

both of them surreptitiously caring for the sad little abandoned plants on the roof

they're in some sort of class together and then realize they're neighbors and become study buddies

Eventually they're in and out of each other's apartments and lives so often that it just makes sense for one day Jiang Yanli to ask "Would you ever want to buy a house?" And they find one that needs some love but has great bones, so they buy it and fix it up and have a big housewarming party for all their friends and get a cat and grow flowers and tomatoes and way too many zucchini out back. The garden is a riot, but well-loved, and their home is always full of life.

(Jiang Cheng is very suspicious of Wei Wuxian at first, convinced he's playing some kind of weird long con on his sister. He comes around eventually when he realizes they just... make each other happy.)

They know they both adore kids, and eventually Jiang Yanli confides that she'd like to try to get pregnant. There is a brief and hilarious moment of uuuuhhhhhh before she goes, "I wanted your opinions on a donor, Wei Wuxian," and then he's like OH!!! and then oh my GOSH he's just the most supportive partner all through her prenatal checkups and morning sickness and weird cravings and scent aversions and other indignities of growing a whole person in your body. It's weird and it's hard, but she's so so excited to be a mom on her own terms.

And then about a month before she's due, Wei Wuxian comes home late one day from his afterschool program (he's a middle school art teacher in this AU; the baby's nursery is MAGAZINE worthy) with this kinda shellshocked kid in tow all, "So I know it's not the best timing, but Xuanyu needs a place to stay, at least for a little while, and—"

"—and obviously our home is open as long as they'd like." It's not even a debate. (Jiang Yanli knows he's been worried about Mo Xuanyu for months, and neither of them have ever been one to turn away someone in need.)

So then she has baby A-Ling, who is the most perfect child ever born, according to his uncle, who is over all the TIME, which works out perfectly once her maternity leave is up. Mo Xuanyu stays with them and absolutely flourishes in a home where they can be themself. Wei Wuxian paints a brand new mural on their fence every spring, and their garden is still wild but they've learned what grows well, and occasionally he gets to tell off some nosy person who makes assumptions about their domestic arrangements, which is very fun for him. They're all just... very happy. It's a home full of love.

And because I cannot resist torturing Jiang Cheng just a little bit, a few years down the road, while he's tearing his hair out over his wedding arrangements — "I have planned a thousand of these, but I somehow cannot get my in-laws to accept that the fucking peonies will be OUT OF SEASON" — Jiang Yanli lets slip that she and Wei Wuxian have been technically married on paper for over a decade. So then he gets to be performatively outraged about not getting to plan her wedding — "We didn't want a wedding, didi, that was the whole point of not telling anyone" — which makes him feel better, because Jiang Yanli understands her little brother.

SO YEAH. QPPs Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian. 10/10 here for it!!!

(with a hat tip to @shadaras who enthused about this whole concept with me in discord forever ago and suggested art teacher & GSA sponsor WWX)

[chaewberry]

pairing; kavetham

tw; mention of nsfw, nothing descriptive, crack.

The house next to them had finally been bought. The little old lady which now lived next door with her silver hair and mellow brown eyes, had greeted them one warm spring morning as Kaveh and Al haitham were exiting the front door, both tugging at the two keys entangled together again.

And, looking back, maybe it was that instance which allowed for later miscommunications to occur. It wasn’t often that the two left the house together — or left the house altogether in Kaveh’s case, and that morning Al haitham had made breakfast for the both of them while Kaveh prepared the coffee. Each of them was tugging at his own key when the cheerful woman came up to them, offering a hug and a warm greeting, smiling a little too brightly for the early hours of the morning.

The first few months she had seemed like any other normal middle aged lady that occupied herself with gardening and reading (only it wasn’t as much as reading as it was falling asleep on the veranda, basking in the sun like a lazy cat). However, some weeks prior Kaveh had most definitely seen her scaling the fence to steal a couple of apples from their other neighbours, winking like a small fox when she caught him looking, scandalised. 

Then, a few days prior, there was the matter of her laundry spot, which was set to be directly next to theirs. Al haitham had the nerve to tease him about a red thong he found after he had finished picking up their laundry from outside — that man had waved the offending piece of clothing at Kaveh’s flashed face and had the nerve, the audacity even, to proceed to fuck him into the matress.

Who knew such a man was afflicted by such a mere concept as a thong.

(Kaveh did not buy a fucking thong the next day. He did not!)

Later, when Kaveh returned from the café, their little neighbour (gods, how did that tiny woman even manage to scale that wooden fence was beyond him) came bouncing up to him, looking bashful for the first time ever and explained what had happened. “Tomio is a playful little thing, doesn’t know boundaries, you know?” 

And just as Kaveh was about to say “oh, you have a cute little toddler lying around?” in order to make small conversation and make this whole affair less awkward, the fattest, most atrocious looking cat he’d ever seen prowling the streets of Sumeru came up swaggering in between his mistress ankles, purring something awful and definitely trying to kill Kaveh with that nasty one eyed, mashed face glare he was giving the blonde. 

Kaveh, naturaly, faltered. “Mh, cat.” Something so profoundly stupid, he was ashamed of himself. What was he supposed to do, question the woman’s sanity and taste in pets? Besides - he chided himself later on - who was he to judge the beauty in the eyes of the beholder? Maybe that lady truly loved her ugly, fat cat. 

He couldn’t resist digging into his roommate, however. “My, Al haitham! Perhaps you should check for familial relations?” 

He paid for his insolence later that night too.

The next time he saw eccentric neighbour was when he was in the market, buying fresh vegetables and chicken eggs to make sabich sandwiches for him and Al haitham (he tries very hard not to think about him making Al haitham food while waiting for the letter to come home from his recently acquired position of acting grand sage) when he catches silver hair from his peripheral vision.

"Mr. Kaveh!"

And there she was, walking up to him with a basket filled with items into the crook of her right elbow, while the other was holding little Tomio's leash who was currently eyeing the recently procured fish in Kaveh's grasp with fervent interest.

And wouldn't that be a funny story? Hey Al haitham! No samak mashwi this week! Our neighbour's incredibly cute cat attacked me and stole them away from my bare hands. If that man hadn't kicked him out, he surely would now — or make him sleep on the couch for a week straight, at least, murmuring about wasted money and the like.

Blood had been shed for less.

"Please, take this."

Suddenly, as if she had whipped them out of thin air, his neighbour had shoved a glass jar full of honey into his reusable shopping bag, as well as a smaller jar filled with what was, from what he could see, humus.

"As an apology for mixing up our underwear and as a welcoming gift — though I'm still eyeing that beautiful vase in the plaza, yes indeed," the woman said.

"Uh," Kaveh fumbled. "There's really no need! Really, it should be us buying you a welcoming gift. I am ashamed to say it has completely slipped my mind."

And he meant it. If Kaveh's mother were to see him now she would surely start lecturing, and he didn't know which was worse in that regard, his mother or Al haitham. He continued, "Al haitham has been busy at work recently and I've picked up a new commision too s-so — I'm sorry! We'll be sure to give you something!"

But the woman simply laughed, slapping a hand well naturally against his shoulder. "No need, no need! Please, it's my job to win over the young people in my new neighbourhood, please rest easy. I'd hate to inconvenience you or your husband when you're both swarmed with work."

Kaveh didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for a strangled laugh, feeling inexcusably hot as his face flashed. "Ah, that's not really --," 

Unfortunately, Tomio had seemed to reach his limit for today. Letting out a ferocious, husky yeowl, he laid back first in the middle of the road where the sun was abundant, paws in the air and clearly looking for a pet or two from the children running past.

"Oh no, Tomio!"

He watched, gaping, as the older woman struggled to pick up the lax feline — but Tomio seemed to have turned to liquid with the way his body flopped back down onto the road.

"Please allow me," Kaveh said, placing a hand on her shoulder and sliding his shopping back into the crook of his elbow before squatting down to stare at the horribly, one toothed, one eyed face looking back at him. "You, mister, are starting to grow on me."

Carrying the feline in his arms, they both headed back home, talking about Kaveh and his work, about her daughter and her recent, new found bliss after a messy divorce, about Tomio and how he was viciously attacked as a kitten by a nasty man.

The cat nestled in his arms, purring, now seemed that much more infinitely more beautiful to Kaveh.

Two weeks later, Al haitham walked through the door and Kaveh had to do a double take, lest his eyes deceive him. "Why in the name of Lord Kusanali are you smiling for?"

His roomate, silently, smugly, placed atop the coffee table a bottle of sweet red and two pairs of wine glasses, black tinted and golden rimmed. 

Kaveh gaped (the flutter in his stomach must've been from the sheer amount of coffee he had drank hours before with an unsettling empty stomach, yes) and spluttered out, "what the hell is this? Have you finally lost your mind?"

Al haitham deliberately buying not only alcohol but also brand new wine glass felt as though he was premeditating for something — perhaps today was the day he finally snapped and kicked Kaveh out, or worse; confirmed all his worst fears about this are we, aren't we affair between them and send the architect on his way, homeless, broken hearted and drunk.

Maybe he was betting on Kaveh getting so shit-faced he'd fall into a ditch and die. Maybe --

"Husband."

Kaveh let out a strangled gasp, utterly struck and horrified, his sketchbook slipping from his grasp. "W-what!?"

"These are gifts from our neighbour. She said to take a break and bask in our wedded bliss -- according to her, it won't last long."

"WHAT?!"

"Don't yell. Are you deaf or just stupid?"

Feeling his face flash, Kaveh sprang to his feet. "What did you tell her?"

Al haitham raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "I said nothing. She assumed and I didn't have time to rebuke her before she went back inside her house."

"Al haitham --"

"Does it bother you that much?"

What?

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Not particularly, no."

And later, if Kaveh decided to snuggle closer to the warm, naked body next to him, closer than he ever dared to or allowed himself too, and bring his arms around the sturdy waist, humming out in bliss — well, he could blame it on the wine.

[scribbling-dragon]

care to elaborate on what’s up with some of the characters in that beauty and the beast au? or would you rather not reveal and leave it for future works

i can certainly elaborate! i do have a few ideas for writing future fics, but i certainly don't mind expanding on the characters (especially because my writing is often..unpredictable dshkdshkjk)

jimmy, our main boy, our little harbinger of death. and he's pretty much the same here! he's a canary, a harbinger of death who has an unfortunate side gig of being incredibly unlucky. the whole harbinger of death shtick is also a lot harder than a lot of people make it out to be- what do you mean he's gotta choose them himself. (he has,, a lot of control over who lives and who dies. don't let his sunny smile fool you)

and tango! jimmy's friend since childhood, and local cryptid to the small village. he was genuinely cursed, but rather than it being some big evil that cursed him, the person that cursed tango,, was tango. him and jimmy found a book, failed to take jimmy's bad luck into account. and bam. big furry creature that everyone just assumes ATE tango, despite there being no evidence for such a thing. so he lives in the woods and jimmy brings him food on the regular.

grian,, jimmy's brother that left the village as soon as he could to see the great bi wide world. him and jimmy are a little different, though they certainly work together on a lot of projects. there's hardly a point to someone's life and death if there's no one around to remember it, right? grian isn't sure what his role is. he's certainly not a harbinger of death, despite how linked his role is to jimmy's. he's more of a collector, but of information rather than oddities (though he has plenty of knick-knacks he collects)

the seller of said knick-knacks is scar! your local friendly salesman that always has a grin for every customer and his cat is so incredibly cute too. his items are top quality! there's nothing else like them! until you get a few minutes from his stall, and it's suddenly a useless knick knack again, and you dont actually know why you bought it in the first place. but, by the time you've returned to the stall, he's nowhere to be found, not even a cat hair betraying the path of him and his odd companion that seemed to have far too many eyes-

(he's a sorcerer that accidentally sold his soul to some kind of demon because goddamit jellie is incredibly cute. yes. jellie is a demon cat that scar sold his soul to on accident. its fine, they have a working agreement)

and your local, slightly unhinged but overall okay-ish neighbour, joel! him and his wife lizzie live on the very outskirts of the town, far away from the general hustle and bustle of the other people, both for the sanity of lizzie's axolotls, and also so joel can slip over the wall every few weeks on a full moon, with no one the wiser. he's none the wiser either, because he doesn't actually remember the full moons. if asked, though, he'll recount them in a similar way to someone that got incredibly drunk and actually cannot remember what they did the evening prior.

and lizzie. who thinks all of her friends are really quite pleasant. sure, they all act a little weird at times, but who doesn't! she's not going to start judging them (especially not as someone who takes axolotls for a walk!)

[lil-tumbles]

Crazy thing just happened to me- Well, crazy for me, but maybe not for people who live an even slightly eventful life, but I'm a total shut-in, okay? First, a little context. My neighbours went away for a couple weeks, and so I've been feeding their cat (Whose name is Lady and she is absolutely adorable but never comes to say hi to me ): ), and today my parents went out so I was home alone when it was time to feed the cat. Just before my mom left the house, she said "Okay, remember to take the house keys with you before going out to feed Lady, because no one will be here to let you in"

And guess what I did.

I grabbed the wrong keys.

Not the neighbour's keys- oh no, not even close- just some random other set, so I couldn't even go in to feed Lady! I didn't even have my phone to call anyone. So, feeling stupid and panicking, I turned 18- degrees and went to my other neighbour's house. They're a sweet old couple who I often see half naked when I look out my window (I tend to keep my blinds closed now). I rang the doorbell, was greeted by a sweet and very large dog (and his owner's mom, who lives there with her husband). I explained my situation, and she called my mom, but it went to voicemail, so her husband then said those fateful words that every wife dreads hearing-

I bet I can get in through the window.

I grinned like a maniac while his wife shook her head, and we all followed him outside to grab a ridiculously long ladder, which he carefully leaned against the wall of his house, reaching to the open window to my bedroom (Because it's absolutely boiling here). Well, almost. You see, we have a conservatory with a glass roof, and my bedroom window is a few feet along, just above the middle of that glass roof. So, we all held our breath that it wouldn't break, that old man climbing up a rickety ladder as I held the bottom rungs steady, and his wife muttered that he's an idiot, and eighty-one, and once again that he's a total idiot.

I told her that I hope I'm doing stuff like this when I'm 81. He tested his weight against the roof, disappeared over the precipice and into my window, feet sticking out from below the blinds (which were still down, whoops), and made it through to open the door for me.

Long story short, the cat got fed, and I'm back in my house, writing this post. Thank you 81 y/o guy who sunbathes naked in the adjacent garden, you're who I aspire to be when I'm that old

[justakidicarus]

Storytime, but not quite a happy one.

So I used to have a cat. He wasn't always ours, he was a stray abandoned by his previous owners, a biker gang across the road that moved away. His owners abused him, kicking his teeth in. My Mum fed him every day and night so he kept coming back. One day she was trying out names

"Tiggy? Tigger? Tig?"

At Tig, he meowed and just walked inside like he always belonged.

That's the story of how we got our cat Tig. We got him Vaccinated and Neutered (though we've seen missing cat posters of other cats recently that look quite a bit like him so I'm not sure we got to him in time) and he was an indoor-outdoor cat. He was blind in one eye (his eye was cancerous so we had to remove it) and most of his teeth were rotten or kicked in so we had to get them removed as well, leaving him with a single tooth.

He spent a good deal of time inside but came and went as he pleased. We had no litter box, he used the garden and preferred it that way. From what I know he never really wandered from our property and he never got to our chickens (we lived in the suburbs but we had an acre of land, a flock of chickens, two dogs and a pet pig but that's another story entirely.) because the pig would guard them well. Our dogs never attacked him because damn Tig was a fighter (The two dogs are now terrified of cats, the small one won't stop shaking when near one, even when they're much smaller than her). He warded off pretty much any stranger dog that came near our house. He was addicted to Potato chips and cheese, and is the reason we had to cover the cheese bowl when making Tacos otherwise he would eat it.

We used to watch the show "My Cat from Hell", but after Tig got bladder stones from what the Vet said was the stress of hearing the angry cats on screen, we never watched it again. Fun fact about that time, we sent Tig to the best Vet we could find and got him the best treatment and everything. It was expensive, and a drain on my Mum. Even with all this, Tig seemed like he would never recover. The day she couldn't keep paying (I kid you not the very same day) and she was going to call to pull the plug, the Vet called and said that he just got up and started walking around like nothing was ever wrong. That little brat knew exactly how far he could push before he was in danger. That's how we ended up spending 10k in vet bills. The cat was free, but his vet bills, not so much.

While we never found out truly how old Tig was, seeing as we adopted him off the streets. We estimated he lived a good 17-18 years. He did not die of old age.

I was playing Monster Hunter Stories 2 when I got the news. Actually, I was in the middle of the final boss fight of the story, my sisters with me for that boss fight.

A bit of context for the nature of our estate: People's animals break free all the time. This happened quite regularly and we would often see these animals wandering around on the street, since we had separate paddock spaces out the back (our pig recently died of old age and our chickens had long since passed before that) we would grab these dogs off the street, check their collars, and call their owners to let them know their dog had gotten out. For repeat offenders, we would bring the dogs to their house and return them in person, or wait for them to come back from being out and pick them out. We've helped other families chase down their dogs before too.

A neighbour had been walking when he saw a commotion on our front lawn (be aware that this was within our fence line but we had the gate open because we've always kept it open. We've never had a problem with hostile animals before). He approached and found two dogs mauling Tig to death. These two dogs we had found roaming the estate about two weeks ago, and like we always did, we brought them into the back yard and put a post on the estate's Facebook page to let the owners know their dogs had gotten loose. We kept the dogs hydrated while the owners, busy for the day, took back the dogs after sunset. Tig had been inside that day, not feeling like going out.

The man scared the dogs off and immediately went to the front door, Dad answering.

He said that he was there for Tig when he took his last breath.

We buried him in the front garden, beside where our first dog Mindy was buried. At that age, he likely barely had a year left in his life. His remaining eye was beginning to grow cloudy, and probably soon would have rendered him blind. His coat was getting a bit sparser and his figure thinner. We made sure he was well taken care of, but it was clear these changes were from age, not health. Tig was always a fighter, and I like to think he preferred dying a warrior's death, and in his final moments accompanied by a family member. I know for a fact he left some scars on those dogs' muzzles.

We never brought another dog into our yard and cared for them when their owner wasn't able to ever again.

When the owner heard what her dogs had done, she came over about a week later with a handful of flowers and some half-assed condolences. I will call them half-assed, because they were very clearly more about her own lingering guilt that her dogs killed someone's pet rather than the fact that the dogs did it in the first place, and we had to pay the price. We took care of their pets for them while they couldn't keep their animals in and this is the thanks we got?

Only a few weeks later, we saw those two dogs roaming the streets again. My Dad already knew the wife's phone number and contacted her, telling her (most likely not kindly but understandably so) to come get her dogs. We did not take them out back where they would be safe and looked after. We still had a Cvoodle and Labrador we were going to look after with our life, and knowing those dogs were violent we were not going to let them anywhere near our last remaining pets.

Want to know the lady's reaction when she got back from where she worked (an hour away) and got her dogs?

She started screaming at my Dad for calling her away from work just to pick up her dogs. I'm not quite sure about the tone of my Dad's voice, but my Dad took her to the side of the road and I headed to my room, recording through the window in case she got violent so I would have evidence. A bit paranoid but the house she lived in had gotten involved in a drug bust a few years back and I was not quite sure if she was from a different family or not. The house backs onto the train tracks.

My Dad gave his reasons, mostly the fact that her dogs had killed our cat and she needed to keep them on her property. She gave her reasons, that her dogs were sweethearts (we've all heard that one before. Hell my dogs had a chicken-killing problem and they're family/lap dog breeds. The little one would kill a chicken while the big one would eat it, later vomiting up the meal. This is why we never got another flock, though only two died this way) that they were renovating and her family were living elsewhere while it was being done. At this point, we were also doing renovations, but we kept our dogs in without problems (as a side note: She kept her dogs on her property while they were renovating but they weren't living there. Suspicious to put it mildly. What she should have done was take them with her if she could or put them in a kennel if she couldn't. Also, she had three small kids, these two dogs were proper big guard dog breeds. We think she was hiding drugs on her property and had the dogs to guard it but you can't be sure.) The lady screamed some more, partly about how her friend (who lived on the corner) was a cop. She stormed off.

That same week, we found out that another cat in the estate had been killed by the very same dogs that killed Tig. There was CCTV footage and everything. The dogs broke into the gated and fenced property (her gate was closed, they broke through) and ripped the cat off the porch, dragging it away and presumably killing it and eating it. The owner never recovered the body. The dogs had done so the same day Dad called the dog's owner and she screamed at him.

This was all brought to the city council (Australia btw). All the family got was a slap on the wrist.

My mum put up a warning on the Facebook group about the dogs. Two cats have been confirmed to have lost their lives to these two specific dogs and other cats have gone missing around the estate. That same day, the Lady stormed up to the house in a frenzy, screaming at my Mum when she answered the door and demanding she take it down, once again citing that her friend is a cop and she would sue us for harassment, saying we clearly had the money to get another cat (all I will say on that is that looks can be deceiving and we do not have as much disposable income as people may think since we are a family of six and one has high-level Autism and Dad retired early) and that clearly we were wrong for saying such things about her darling dogs.

Mum reiterated the fact that her dogs have killed two cats now, including our own, and one such kill being caught on camera and the other having eye witness testimony. Also, if anyone had the grounds to sue for harassment it would be us because she's come to our house unwanted seeking conflict and acting aggressively. Finally, since she decided to assume we had plenty of money to blow and she didn't (she stated she couldn't afford a kennel due to the renovations) go ahead, and try and sue with the mounting evidence over her terrible case of harassment and see what happens (this was a bold-faced lie, money was fairly tight at that point and court costs is not a good way to spend it).

She never did sue. Her kids flip us off whenever we drive past their house. Their house is on the T-intersection exiting our street, we always have to drive past it.

As far as I know, those dogs are still alive today.

We have two more cats now. British Shorthair kittens from the same cattery but different litters. One acts like the world is out to get her when literally nothing bad has ever happened to her for her entire life. The other one is probably autistic. I love both of them very much (they're about 2 years old now) and they are firmly indoor cats. Litter box and locked cat flap included. Poppy (the younger one, a soft grey) once got outside during a storm and her butt got soaked and only her butt cause she sat in a puddle cause she didn't know it was wet.

Keep your cats indoors and your dogs on your property. It's safer for them, and safer for the neighbourhood. Your dogs are very much capable of killing, even if they've never shown the intention before. Again, my Cvoodle killed two of my chickens and she's a lap dog.

outdoor cat defenders really are simply some of the most Delusional people on the planet, like you can list fact after fact all with verified sources about how bad it is to let cats outside for both them & the environment around them and people will cover their ears and be like "umm not my frumpkins he knows not to play in traffic & he has magical resistance to coyotes and disease"

[deafmangoes]

It's weird to think that back in pre-Roman Britain, the local Celtic peoples would have only known cats as wild animals, never seen a rabbit (though were fond of hares) or eaten a tomato, potato or corn cob.

They had domestic pigs but let them roam freely, and often mixed with wild boar. They had cows and chickens (though never ate the chickens! Celtic peoples in Britain ate neither chicken nor hare, possibly for religious reasons), and kept bees - they would have never seen sugar, but honey would be abundant.

Their world wasn't one of fenced fields, but open meadows and pasture, and a mixture of managed forest and old growth. The climate was colder and wetter, winters were harsh and summers mild. The landscape was dotted with groves and standing stones, raised tombs and burials, and well-trod roads connecting villages and communities.

The Celts of Britain were still closely related to their European neighbours and traded with them, and we've evidence of folk coming to Britain from as far away as Scythia (modern Ukraine and into near Asia), while Cornish tin is found in Egyptian bronze.

There's remains of an Iron age village on the housing estate where I live. People still walk the local Ridgeway, a road some 3000 years old. I grew up in a part of the country where burial mounds are so common they're beneath notice, and used to change buses at the Avebury stone circle.

Their world and ours is different and alike all the same. Connected through time, habit and belief. It makes me smile to see it.

[suugrbunz]

Hey! 💝anon here.. That was me giving tips earlier.. Been back on Tumblr for just a couple days, clearing out my old account, saying hellos to old online friends. Thank you, so much, for how you inspired my story last year. You motivated me - so much!

The story finished. I adidn’t do a huge amount with Maureen & Lyam’s relationship; they had a few more moments together, bonding & learning to trust & appreciate each other. Their final moment in the story was their first kiss! (I can send a snippet if you’d like?)

I turned 19 last year (so, a bit younger than you I suppose :)) It’s been good, getting offline. It’s given me more time to do other things; learn gardening from an elderly relative, do some singing (on my own lol), spend time with my family, learn about things that interest me.

Anyway. Hope you’re doing okay and taking care of yourself, and you can find ways to make life easier, whatever those ways are. 

I understand about the streaming service thing. My family usually just watch cheap second hand DVDs (charity shop sells 20 DVDs for £1!), and occasionally use the cheaper version of Netflix (with ads). I use Internet Archive (archive.org) for books and films (manly older, lesser known films), it’s free, so that’s a good option. 

And totally, get away from Instagram & TikTok! If you think you’d be happier without it, drop it! People online can be really nasty. I quit looking at Reddit, & basically all comments, last year after I suffered a deep depression (due to peoples’ extremely nasty comments toward a part of lgbt that I identify with) Doing a lot better now. 

IDK, and it’s not my business, but hope something works for you. The best people, the ones worth knowing, are those who appreciate character and kindness over consumerist beauty ideals (I say consumerist cause it’s in my belief that we’re pretty well brainwashed to think “perfect looking” people look good; a way of getting people to keep buying makeup they don’t need and the latest fashions)

Ahh, hope this isn’t too much, I write fast and am only basing this all off a couple posts I saw you made, so I’m real sorry if it’s too much! I’ve got a ton of spare time today so I’m just rambling. 

I can’t be coming back to online socialising like I used to, as it took up so much of my limited spare time last year, so this is a rarity, just to say hello. Hugs 🫂 

💝anon

i literally cried seeing it was you— i was noshing on a gyro, crying alone in the kitchen. I have hereditary depression, so it won't get better. It'll always be there. It's just worse than normal lately. Hoping it'll calm down, I wrote and edited some of my book today.

This is like writing a lovely old pen pal, ah, it's nearly therapeutic. I think of you often. I'm nearing tears as i write this because something about talking to you has felt so homeward bound. I love archive, that's how I watched the clash movie, Rude Boy! I have some unread books I wish to finish, one is kafka and the other is khalil gibran. You should see the khalil gibran book, it has such an ornate cover.

I adopted a cat since we've last spoken, she was beside my neighbours house during a storm. I had been taking out my dog and heard her meowing. When i approached her, she immediately came to me. Oh, her name is Laila, she's a tortoise shell.

I definitely have to agree, we are brainwashed constantly to see aging as a sign of lost beauty. Similarly, we are taught that our bodies are never enough because whatever the trend is— it isn't for a girl with an hourglass body. I told my mother the other night, through lots of tears i have never truly loved myself. I mean, around puberty is when confidence develops, at least in my opinion. I got bullied for my body developing into what it now is. So, you can imagine what eating disorder shit i go through because of it. Only fueled by my mother also having a fucked up perception of body-image as well. I am trying my best to understand that my value is an independent variable from the weight on a scale.

Please send me all the writing you wish to, I remember loving your writing. I started publishing my book, but it's completely different. I had to change everything; it was going nowhere. I couldn't get a plot to stitch together. I was nearly at the point of deleting it. Then, out of the blue, I woke up after some dream and was like— "what if I used tamino as a faceclaim? What if x, y, z?". Soooo, i ended up experimenting with it and i actually followed through on replacing nick (i want to implement him in the new book tbh, i miss him). Ah, i hope you find the time to read the chapters I have published... that is if you want to read them, truly there is no pressure there. Again though; please send me your work.

[karisohara]

part 4: maps

As I’m writing this I’m listening to the sublime ‘Maps’ by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. It’s a song that carries a certain nostalgia to it, reminding me of a time when I was just coming of age, the last time the node’s of the moon were in Taurus, whilst chaos was all around me. It’s a beautiful song, and for years it graced the video channels, rock clubs and alt-pubs, soundtracking a time post 9/11 where life was still coming to terms that perhaps our 90s bubbles were a dream. Maps is, me, the teenager on the verge of adulthood, discovering substances and having a taste for them, and how scary everything was at the time. Maps is that dusty London summer heat which is still and strangles the breath out of the air. My first introduction was whilst I was sitting on the steps of Haverstock Hill, with my then neighbour and friend Louis. He handed their record ‘Fever To Tell’, the plastic slightly shattered in corners and the ‘most sorry for itself’ looking gatefold, the record had clearly been used as a coaster and covered in weed crystals. “you should listen to this” he said, coupled with another record peeping behind. Another early noughties classic, The Libertines ‘Up The Bracket’. A year or two later, Maps would tinker through the TV at 5am in a YMCA in New York on an art trip. I remember with terrible jet lag, how I suddenly reached for my Nokia 3310, to see if my then boyfriend had reached out. Only for my heart to sink, realising he had ignored me and this being the first experience of knowing your partner is pulling away. The words ‘wait, they don't love you like I love you’ echoed as I shed a few tears wishing I could go back to sleep.

My sisters mother in law passed the other day, and with any death I think back to all the times of grief. Grief has this way of shaping you, it's an absolute. My grandmother’s passing shaped me especially. I don’t believe we realise that the media we are surrounded by become a time capsule. Everything from the songs soundtracking that time, to the scent of a favorite perfume, clutches onto your memory. Only for a ghost, be that a scent that seems familiar, or a track comes on randomly for you to transport to that time. Maps was part of the soundtrack where I first experienced womanhood, grief, love and heartbreak. The only consistent I have from that time is my own family. 

When my sister announced to me of the Kim’s passing, she ended the message with ‘time is precious and family is golden’. Time moves so fast you blink and yes, you do miss it. How can you know that it might be the last time you see somebody or that you only get that one chance, one moment, and then it drifts by? They then, like Maps, become ghosts, memories drifting in time and every so often, I’ll be reminded by magic fm at 2am in an uber, or Glastonbury footage and I’ll cry watching Cat Stevens as i’m reminded of my grandmother and her love for his music. Tears for a time, a soul, a moment. How wonderful music touches us so deeply.

Monday 17th July 2023

[stormofneurosis]

OMG we had a cat this thick near us once!

His name was "62" - I am not joking. He was an old boy who lived a few houses away, and he and his brother were adopted when our local SPCA still numbered the cats instead of naming them. His brother got renamed but "62" just stuck for this barrel of a boi

When his brother died, 62 would come around looking for him, as he'd often spent time upstairs harassing old neighbours. My cat of the time, Tigger, did not approve of this

Tigger was fiercely territorial and would rush to attack any cat he deemed "too close" to his 3-house radius of a territory. But here comes the twist

62 was TOO FAT to notice. He was a chongus with so much padding that Tigger's lightning fast baps and ear-numbing yowls did nothing.

He sat there while Tigger exhausted himself trying to scare him off, or beat him into submission. When Tigger finally stopped 62 looked at him and went "we fwends now~" and Tigger could do nothing about it.

Until he too passed on, 62 and Tigger would hang out regularly. both would attempt to steal the others' food while ignoring their own. They would sit together in relative peace on the porch, though if I stepped out to pet 62 Tigger had to observe but declined to be touched at that time.

I think that helped mellow some of Tiggers' "other cats are evil" mentality, though he never liked others, and trying to stop him going anywhere was the way I was going to die. He literally headbutted me once to get out of the house when he wasn't supposed to, nearly making me brain myself on the porch.

he failed to kill me, but you can see his intention to follow through.

Me