#this game is a great way to get to pull out wips and dust them off ahahahaha

[seiya-starsniper]

Take Me Over for the tag game, please?

Ahhhhh I love this WIP so much, I really need to just write the last bits to it! 😅😅😅

I've shared a few snippets over the last year and finally tagged them so they're easy to find: #break me shake me 2 wip

Here's a yet unshared snippet:

On the third day of his heat, Dream can no longer take the smell of Hob loitering outside his door. He yanks the door open angrily and Hob jumps clearly not expecting Dream to emerge.  “Leave me,” Dream snarls, barely grasping the door for balance as he lets his heat pheromones flood into the hallway. “Or fuck me, I no longer care how disgusting you find me. You can gag me and pretend it is someone else you're fucking, if it bothers you so much.” “I—�� Hob says, swaying towards Dream. His eyes have clouded over in obvious lust, Dream’s scent having snared him instantly. And still, the alpha resists, despite Dream practically giving him free reign to ravish him. Hob moves to take a step back from him, before Dream growls and fists a hand in the other man’s shirt.  “Oh fuck you,” Dream says before he pulls Hob into the room.

✨WIP File Tag Game✨

[stetervault]

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

OR

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

-

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

~~

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

--

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.

[yannowhatigiveup]

A Blinded Kiss

I haven’t posted anything recently so I dug around in my WIPs to see if anything was even worth posting and I found this that I made a while ago. It certainly isn’t the best but it isn’t the worst out of all my other WIPs.

"Is this really necessary?" The bluenette asked, eyeing a blindfold given by her brotherly figure.

"Of course it is Pixie!" An older man with two-toned hair replied, way too over enthusiastic about the whole situation. "It's a great way to find your way around the manor”

"And it's a great family bonding experience too!" Another man in the room replied, even more enthusiastic than the first.

"Fine, I'll do it Jay" the blue-eyed girl huffed, twirling the blindfold between her fingers. "What are the rules again, Dick?"

Dick beamed at the girl before answering. "Well Mari, it's simple. Put the blindfold on, count to fifty, spin around and try to steal a hug from anyone in the manor"

"So I have to walk around the manor blindfolded and try to sneak up on you? You know that's impossible!" Marinette exclaimed, she would not go around the house looking like a touch-starved fool.

"That's exactly why we're doing it" Jason replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It'll last a long time."

After a few seconds, the blue-eyed girl sighed, giving in to both Jason and Dick. "Fine, if that's what makes you happy" Marinette wrapped the matte-black fabric tightly around her eyes, already struggling within the first few seconds. She began counting and she heard the two scuffling away, smiling while being able to tell which direction they went in. In the mean time, Marinette debated her options.

'Both Jason and Dick would be the ideal choices but they'll be able to hear me from a mile away. Tim would be the most logical one since he's half asleep, but where does he even go in this maze? God knows where Alfred is, Mr Wayne is scary. Damian-' She paused her train of thoughts, granted Marinette had only met him a few days ago but that didn't stop the crush she had heavily try to cease. 'He'd probably hear me from a mile away as well. This game is so unfair'

Soon enough, Marinette reached fifty and spun herself around, she used a bit too much force than needed so now not only was she blinded but she lost her sense of direction. Giving herself a minute to recover, the bluenette began to walk. Using her improved senses, thanks to the miraculous, Mari was slowly able to create a theoretical map in her mind, though it did take much more energy than she desired.

"Fighting an akuma is easier than this" The bluenette muttered as she hit her thigh along the corner of a wall.

Even though she was using her enhanced abilities, she'd pump into a corner or a wall every now and again, the amount of times increased when her energy was being used. After wondering a hall for what seemed like hours, the bluenette came to a staircase, one that she ever so carefully used to get to a higher floor. Once she did, she kept a hand on one of the walls, using it as a guide. Soon enough, her hand came to what felt like a doorframe. The door was closed she could tell but it was recent used due to the fact that the doorknob was warm. Making sure not to intrude, she knocked on said door, she almost missed the muffled 'come in' had she not been paying attention. Marinette opened the door, went in and quickly shut it behind her, taking a deep breath.

"Okay I hope you don't mind but which room is this and whose in the room? Dick and Jason thought it would be a good idea to walk around the manor blindfolded while trying to sneak up on them" The bluenette huffed, only to freeze when she heard a familiar chuckle.

"I've heard, you're in my room, It's Damian just to clarify" 'Sh-' "So, what task must be fulfilled to give you permission to take the blindfold off? I doubt you want to keep it on any longer" Marinette giggled.

"You're right, I would probably get lost of I continue. Um, I have to 'steal a hug' apparently"

"So you have to hug someone without them inspecting it" Damian came to that conclusion to which the bluenette nodded her head.

"Yeah that's basically it, hey do you have anywhere I could sit down? I'm getting tired..."

"Of course, my bed is five steps to your front and two steps to your right, make yourself comfortable" She wasn't sure how red she had gotten but she obliged anyway. Had she not been wearing the blindfold, she would've seen Damian smiling at her flustered state. Giving herself a moment to regain her energy, Marinette turned to where she presumed Damian was working at his desk. "Can I hug you? Jay never said I couldn't ask the person first. I-I won't if you don't want me to! I just wanted to ask so..."

She heard the boy thoughtfully hum before he made his way over to her. From what she could tell, Damian was now in front of Marinette, looming over her.

"Did Todd or Grayson say it had to be a hug?" Marinette tilted her head in confusion and thoughtfulness, that had never crossed her mind before.

"W-"

"What happens if I kiss you instead?"

The bluenette didn’t reply with words as she knew how terrible her words would be in her flustered state. But she wanted this, her heart longed for it in a way it never did for anyone else. Instead, she nodded, giving the green-eyed boy permission to do as he wished.

She felt his hand lightly tilt her chin up towards, where she presumed, his face was. Then he pressed his lips onto hers, his other had behind her head, tugging at the fabric around her eyes. Marinette felt bliss, she was glad that no one else would interrupt this moment. Shivers went down her spine as she felt Damian’s hands travel up from behind her neck and to wear the blindfold was knotted, gently tugging at the binding. She was glad that when her face was free from the fabric that comprised her vision, the first thing in her line of eyesight were Damian's deep emerald eyes, the shimmered the same way they had when she first laid eyes on him, she'd been enraptured ever since. The boy, however, was smirking as he noticed the pink that dusted her face. Without a moment passing, she threw herself the green-eyed boy, delivering a hug. As she pulled away, her hands cupped his face and she returned his embrace with one of her own. When she pulled away once more, she smiled in satisfaction at his flustered expression.

"When did you realise you had feelings for me?" Marinette asked softly, her forehead pressed against his trying to regain her breath.

"That's a very easy question" Damian stared lovingly into her eyes. "I fell the moment I saw you take down that Akuma three times your size" Her eyes widened.

"You know about me being Ladybug?"

"The same way you know I'm Robin"

They both smiled, creating a truce to not reveal anything.

"Well I better get going, see you later." She got up from the bed and opened the door, only to turn around and say "Je t'aime mon cœur" before exiting the room, leaving a blushing Damian.

Marinette walked back down the stairs, the piece of cloth in hand and small love-struck smile on her face. When she entered the main living room, she came face to face with the owner of the manor.

"Oh hello Mr Wayne"

"Hello Marinette, I see you managed to get the blindfold off" The older man gestured towards the piece of fabric in her hand. "And please, do call me Bruce. Who did you end up surprising with a hug then?"

She smiled brightly before replying. "Damian"

His usual formal demeanor broke for a moment but Bruce quickly picked the pieces back up. "He didn't attack you or injure you in any shape or form?"

Marinette decided to play the oblivious little girl. "No..? Why, does he do it often?" Her head titled in confusion.

"Nothing it doesn't matter" Bruce simply sighed and shook his head. "Also, there's something I'd like to discuss with you at dinner, if you don't mind"

"No not at all, I'll see you at dinner then?" Bruce nodded and left, leaving Marinette alone in the room, waiting for her honorary older brother and his brother to come in. Which they did but only after some time, it was hilarious to see them crouched down, talking to each other in hushed voices. They flinched as she cleared her throat, both slowly turning towards the sound to find a smug looking Marinette and a blindfold whipped around her finger.

"I win"

~~~

Most of the occupants at the table were either in an all out war or were about to be, except for Marinette and an exasperated Bruce Wayne.

"So Marinette" The eldest Wayne began, silencing the rest of the table. "I hope you don't mind me asking but when you were off searching for Jason, you mentioned attacks that have been occurring in Paris, is this true?"

No one failed to notice the girl flinch. "Yeah it's true"

"...how bad are the attacks? In your opinion"

"Well it depends on how strong the person's emotions are really. If their emotions are strong, then the Akuma is strong too"

"What's the strongest akuma that Paris has seen?" It was Tim who asked and memories of the event began swimming through her mind, she got rid of them with a shake of her head.

"The deadliest akuma Paris has experienced was an akuma called 'Syren'. She's a regular person but, as an akuma, she managed to kill around 2 million people. But don't worry! Ladybug's cure managed to bring them back to life"

"D-did... did you die, Pixie?" Jason asked, his anger mixed with worry was boiling over and luckily simmered after seeing her shake her head.

"Do you think the heroes of Paris would let heroes from the Justice League come over to help?"

Marinette contemplated for a moment, should she really risk the heroes getting akumatized? "I think they would but I wouldn't know"

Bruce nodded while Jason leaned over the table to talk closer to his honorary little-sister. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to bother you"

"You're not a bother, Pixie" Jason smiled at the bluenette on the other side of the table. "You never are and you never will be"

~~~

Marinette returned to Paris a few days later, in the mean time, Bruce and the rest of the batfam were planning their visit to the City of Love. Soon enough, the vigilantes were boarded on the plane. Their flight to Paris was relatively silent. After a few hours, they landed and the vigilantes waited on the Eiffel Tower, only to find out there was a battle going on. Before they could engage in the fight, they were engulfed with magical ladybugs that seemed to fix anything destroyed. As they were mesmerized by the cure, a certain spotted-heroine wobbly landed on the platform. Batman was first to notice.

"Ladybug" His voice caused the others to turn around. "Thank you for allowing us into your city"

Ladybug nodded, not uttering a single word.

"We were hoping, with your permission of course, that we could help you be rid of Hawkmoth once and for good" Again, Ladybug didn't reply. "Ladybug?"

When the heroine didn't respond, Batman glanced at Nightwing and the rest of his sons, clearly something was wrong. Unexpectedly, Robin took his glove off, approached the Ladybug-themed hero and placed his hand onto her forehead.

"You have a fever" he stated, his hand trailing down her face to cup her cheek. His family all shot him weird looks. She tiredly blinked at the vigilante, recognising him as Robin and allowed herself to fall into his arms, detransforming while doing so, leaving a burning hot Marinette.

"Dami?" He hummed. "Take me home, please..." She drifted off to sleep, comforted in her lover's arms. He glanced at his family, holding the bluenette close.

"Pixie...is Ladybug?" Red Hood's voice was first.

"You didn't know?" Robin's voice mocking confusion, enraging Red Hood that his youngest brother knew something about his sister that he didn't. Even more so that his demon brother was holding said sister,

"We should take her back home" Dick went over to feel the girl's forehead. "She's burning"

"Tikki?" Robin asked and a red creature flew out from one of Mari's pockets, startling most of the people there.

"I'll try to heal her on the way, follow me"

The floating red creature flew down from the Eiffel Tower, Robin and Marinette close behind. After some hesitation, the others followed, they ended up on top of a bakery. One by one, they entered through the trapdoor on the balcony, finding both Damian with his mask off and a weak looking Marinette. Despite her enfeebled state, the bluenette greeted each vigilante, her gaze landed on Jason.

"It's just a fever, I'll be fine"

Jason removed his helmet and ran a hand through his hair before both settled on his hips. "You don't look fine"

"I promise I am" She wasn't convincing, not at all.

"Fine" Jason huffed, he could never truly say no to the girl he viewed as his little sister. "But since when were you two a thing" He pointed at the two, his gaze resting maliciously on Damian.

"It's all thanks to you, you know" Marinette smirked at Jason's confusion. Tim snickered as he seemed to catch on to what she was saying.

"Had you not organized that 'blindfolded game', I doubt we would be together at this moment" Damian supplied the information, clearly unfazed by the burning rage in the eyes of his older brother.

"Baby Bird's all grown up" The eldest Wayne son overdramatized wiping a fake tear, Batman sighed at his two eldest sons while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Get your fucking hands off her, Demon Brat!" Jason tried to lunge at Damian, only to be stopped by both Dick and Tim. Though his fury only grew when Marinette snuggled closer to the green-eyed boy, both smirked in victory over Jason's horrified appearance.

Marinette was now part of the family in more ways than one. Though they wish they had found out in better circumstances, they would be able to take down Hawkmoth once and for all, side by side, all together. And to think this all happened because of a silly blindfold game.

[miracleonice87]

Thousand

a Tyler Seguin one shot

a/n: I’m back! Last week was busy for me and this one is, too, but I have three other WIPs coming up after this one within the next little bit, so stay tuned. also idk if anyone else watches One Tree Hill (I know Tyler does 😉) but his family gives me major Nathan, Haley, Jamie, and Lydia Scott vibes in this one.

summary: still playing for the Stars, Tyler is recognized for his 1,000th career game and celebrates with his wife (the reader), family and team.

warnings: husband and dad Tyler being cute with his family and becoming a slightly silver fox (I think that def deserves a warning); hint of a daddy kink lollll

_____

February 22, 2025

Dallas

“Mama! Can I wear my new jersey from Uncle Jamie? Please?”

You pursed your lips, fastening the back onto your emerald earring as you looked at your five-year-old son’s reflection behind you in the mirror. You turned away from your vanity to meet him at eye level.

“Baby, you should wear Daddy’s jersey tonight,” you told him gently, rubbing his back. “We’re celebrating a really big milestone for him, so he’s gonna be recognized out on the ice, and we’re gonna be there with him, remember? I know it would mean a lot to him if you wore his jersey.”

Luca pushed his bottom lip out just a smidge, pouting just like Tyler was famous for doing. You bit your own bottom lip to hold back a laugh.

“Okay. Well, can I wear Uncle Jamie’s next game?” Luca bargained.  

You smiled at his tenacity and smoothed your hand over his crisp white dress shirt that you’d laid out for him. You put your forehead to his and assured, “Absolutely.”

Luca perked up and stood a little straighter at your promise.

“Thanks, Mama,” he said. You kissed his cheek and said, “You’re welcome, baby. Thank you for understanding.” He nodded and turned to leave the room, presumably to pull a 91 jersey from the ever-growing collection in his closet. He stopped short and turned back to look at you.

“Hey, Mama?” he began. “Hmmm?” you prompted, trying to fasten your necklace and suddenly wishing you’d had Tyler put it on you before leaving — not only was he much more capable, but the way he always kissed the nape of your neck after securing the clasp made you melt each time.

Luca paused, smiling down at his sock feet before lifting his gaze to you again.

“I’m really happy for Daddy,” Luca said with a smile so sincere it made you melt. You were such a sap for these Seguin boys.

You nodded, choking back tears. “That’s sweet, baby,” you said. “I’m really happy for him, too.”

_____

An hour later, after dressing yourself, your son, and your two-year-old daughter, you pulled into the private parking area within the gates, Luca bopping up and down in his car seat, ever anxious to get inside the arena. The moment you unloaded both kids, they took off for the door to the arena.

“Luca Paul Seguin, slow down, please!” you instructed in your best mom voice, fumbling to throw both your purse and the diaper bag over your shoulders. “Hold onto your sister’s hand, bub,” you requested.

Luca smiled brightly and turned toward Harper, extending his hand toward his toddling little sister, who took it with a giggle. You finally caught up to the two of them and scooped up your daughter as you stepped onto the elevator, headed to the front office floor. When the doors opened, you were greeted by Tom Holy, the Stars’ VP of communications who had become a close friend over the years.

“Here are the real stars of tonight’s show!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands once, making you laugh. Luca ran to him for a hug and Tom playfully dusted off Luca’s little shoulders that now donned his favorite black Seguin jersey.

“Nice jersey, Luc! Hey, I gotta tell you, though, we have something else for you and your sister to wear tonight — if you want to,” he said.

You shot Tom a warning look as he produced a black tote bag from the reception desk, telling him, “You did not.”

He gave you a wink and said, “Do you know us at all by now? Of course we did.”

Much to Luca’s delight, Tom pulled two home green jerseys from the bag, with white 91’s printed on the back and sleeves and the “A” adorning each chest. But the nameplate didn’t hold your last name — instead, it read “DADDY,” with “1,000” printed below the jersey number. Luca jumped up and down with the jersey in his hands, while Tom handed the smaller jersey for you to dress Harper in.

“And we got a little something for you, too,” he added, reaching his hand into the tote bag once more. Your eyebrows shot up, caught off guard.

“Why me?” you questioned, feeling completely undeserving.

“Because, he says it himself all the time — he wouldn’t be the person he is without you,” Tom told you earnestly. “Tonight we’re celebrating all of you.”

He handed you a small black box and you froze for a moment before he extended it further, insisting that you accept it. You slowly grasped the box and pulled it open. Inside lay a pin nearly mirroring the style of lettering on the back of the kids’ jerseys, but instead it read “Seguin - 91 - 1,000,” encrusted in diamonds and emeralds.

You covered your mouth with curled fingers, attempting to steel yourself so that the waterworks wouldn’t commence just yet. You warmed inside at the incredible kindness of the gesture, giving Tom a hug.

“Thank you, Tom,” you said softly. “You guys are always first class.” He waved you off as you retrieved the pin from its box and fastened it on the lapel of your long black blazer, paired with a lacy camisole, jeans and black heels. You propped Harper on the desk to switch out her jersey for the new one, Luca having already made his own outfit change.

_____

In the tunnel, you had Harper on your hip and held tightly to Luca’s hand to prevent him from running to the ice and interrupting warm-ups. Your kids were used to standing at the boards where they could watch the guys drill and give their dad knuckles on the glass — where he could tap his blade in front of them each time he skated past. But not tonight. They might not realize it for years to come, but tonight would be even more special than watching their dad skate in front of them.

After a few minutes, you felt a hand come to rest on your shoulder — Jim Nill’s. You smiled at him and leaned in for a hug as he greeted you warmly and gave Luca a fist bump.

“And this little one…” he added, tapping Harper’s nose lightly as she grinned up at him. “She’s gotten so big. She’s too cute — you sure she really belongs to Segs?”

You laughed and remarked, “Pretty certain, yeah. If you saw her dramatic side, or how she is with the dogs, you’d see the resemblance.” It was Jim’s turn to chuckle.

Tom sidled up next to the two of you and advised you on how the presentation would go.

“So, we’ll roll out the carpet, and you guys will head all the way down to the end. Jim and Bones will follow. Tyler will come and stand next to you guys on the ice and then we’ll do the presentations,” he instructed. “That sound okay?”

You nodded and smiled at Tom. “Yeah, it sounds great. Honestly, I’m just a little nervous about holding onto these two so none of us fall on our asses,” you half-joked.

“Well, Gramma can help with that.”

At the sound of the familiar voice behind you, you spun around and gasped, while Luca exclaimed, “You’re here!”

There stood not only Jackie, but also Paul — the two were always willing to come together for momentous occasions in their children’s lives, especially now that you and Tyler had given them the gift of grandchildren, and you were grateful. You had had no idea that they were coming, even having spoken to Jackie the day before, asking her once more if she was sure she didn’t want you to book her a flight to Dallas.

Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head, completely at a loss for word as they flanked you. You squeezed each of them tightly and whimpered, “Does Ty know?”

Paul shook his head. “He has no clue,” he responded. Jackie added, “And the girls are up in the suite already. They wanted to watch it all up there.”

You could only shake your head repeatedly, barely having time to recover before hearing the PA announcer ask the fans to turn their attention to the ice. You dabbed the corners of your eyes with your knuckle and passed Luca duty off to Jackie, keeping a hold on Harper yourself, as Tom smiled and winked at the five of you.

“Not even a warning, Tom?” you teased, sniffling. He chuckled and squeezed your shoulder.

“No way,” he remarked. “Your reaction was priceless.” You shared another smile before you saw Rick stepping onto the green carpet near the boards.

“Here we go,” you breathed, leading your in-laws out to the ice past Rick as directed, not without him stopping you to give you a kiss on the cheek, squeeze Harper’s hand, and pat Luca on the back.

You stepped carefully along the fabric-covered frozen surface, concentrating on a beaming Tyler before you, Harper already reaching her arms out for him as he waved at her. You knew immediately that there was no point in fighting her on wanting to be held by her daddy, so as soon as you reached the end of the carpet and gave Tyler a peck, you handed her off to him, Tyler kissing her rosy cheeks.

The crowd “awww’d,” but you could only concentrate on the dumbfounded expression Tyler wore upon looking up from Harper’s “Daddy 91” jersey to smile at you before noticing his parents only a few feet behind. Rarely, if ever, left speechless, Tyler was completely in shock.

Jackie came forward to reach for Tyler, singing, “Surprise!” as she threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, my god. I can’t believe you guys are here,” Tyler finally said, his voice shaky. Jackie kissed his cheek and pulled away to wipe tears from her eyes.

“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world, son,” Paul assured as the two men embraced.

After thanking his parents, Tyler crouched down to greet his boy — practically his own self, in miniature.

“Cool jersey, bubba,” Tyler said, glowing with pride as he nudged Luca’s chest and squeezed his hand.

“It says ‘Daddy 91’ on it!” Luca pointed out. Tyler giggled boyishly and kissed Luca’s forehead. “It sure does, doesn’t it,” he said, Luca nodding.

Tyler stood upright once more, snaking an arm around your waist as you held onto Luca’s shoulders in front of you, smoothing his hair affectionately. Tyler then noticed your new pin, running the back of his index finger over it and commenting, “Wow. This is unbelievable.” You could only nod.

“You look beautiful, baby. But what, no ‘Daddy’ jersey for you?” he asked softly with an ornery grin, making your cheeks warm as you pushed your shoulder into his chest. You shared a quiet laugh and he kissed your temple, then the PA announcer turned over the floor to Jim.

“Stars fans, you all know better than most just how much this night means to our number 91,” Jim began. “We as an organization have watched him grow, both as a person and as a player, since his fourth year in the league. We have witnessed the way he has blossomed, from an outstanding young player into a seasoned veteran. Tyler Seguin has become one of the most prominent leaders of this franchise, and I know I can speak for all of us when I say that we could not be more proud to call him a member of our family.”

The crowd cheered, so loudly that Jim had to pause, Tyler blinking back tears as he squeezed your hand tightly and nodded to the fans appreciatively. Even Harper began to clap, making Tyler laugh and kiss her sweetly, sniffling when he looked back to the crowd.

“Tyler, we thank you for the role that you have played thus far during your time as a Dallas Star, we look forward to many years and celebrations to come, and we recognize you tonight for reaching another milestone in your career in the National Hockey League — 1,000 games. We are thrilled to have your lovely wife and your beautiful family here with us tonight to celebrate you. Now I invite our captain, your dear friend, Jamie Benn, to join us and present you with gifts from your teammates, then Rick and I will proudly present you with gifts on behalf of the organization.”

You had held your emotions together decently thus far, but when Jamie glided over to you with a huge bouquet of white roses in one arm and a small gift box in the other hand, you felt tears trickle down your cheek. Jamie stopped in front of your family, greeting you first. He gently grasped your shoulder and kissed your cheek as he placed the bouquet in your arms.

“For you,” he spoke. “Love you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for him — for all of us.” You nodded, reaching up on your tiptoes to wrap your arm around his neck and whisper a thank you of your own into his ear, Jamie smiling at you tenderly when he pulled away.

“And for this guy…” Jamie began, extending the black box, which you now could see was marked with the Rolex logo, Tyler’s way as Tyler wrapped his arm around Jamie, hugging him tightly, the two of them exchanging private words of gratitude. You swiped at your tears as you watched Jamie pull back to kiss Harper’s cheek, making her squeal with delight at the attention her favorite uncle was showing her.

You all laughed, and Jamie turned his attention next to his godson. He bent at the waist to look Luca in the face, his wide grin growing even bigger. Jamie held out his fist and the two engaged in their special shake and bake handshake, Jamie ruffling Luca’s chestnut brown curls atop his head as he stood straight again.

“Love you, buddy,” Jamie told Luca, extending his hand for a low-five. Luca slapped his palm and beamed up at his beloved uncle. “Love you, too,” he confirmed, Jamie winking at him.

Next, Rick approached and presented Tyler with a gorgeous crystal award, engraved with Tyler’s name, the Stars logo, and the date and statistics from his 1,000th game against St. Louis a few nights before. Jim gifted Tyler a silver hockey stick from the Stars organization to commemorate the occasion, and Tyler thanked them both profusely, hugging them as the PA announcer asked the crowd to now look to the scoreboard for a video tribute.

This was one part of the evening you had known was coming — Tom had arranged for you and the kids to be filmed congratulating Tyler on the actual night of his 1,000th game, in the wives and girlfriends suite. You had inquired about who else was being asked to be part of the video, and Tom rattled off the names of some of Tyler’s closest friends, current and former teammates, and most respected fellow athletes — his sisters, Freddy, Derrek, Marchy, Tom Brady, Rob Gronkowski, Jordan Spieth, Dak Prescott, and many of the Stars he had played with for multiple seasons all made appearances, including Jamie, who smiled at you as he skated behind you to watch.

“1,000 games. Did you ever think we’d all be here?” Jamie asked you softly as the video started, glancing Tyler’s way.

You, too, looked toward your husband, his face lifted to the Jumbotron, and you noticed the way his handsome features had only become more distinguished with age and the few grey hairs sprinkled near his ears and in his beard. He always groaned when you jokingly pointed them out, but you loved them — in your eyes, they told the story of his life as a man, his life as a hockey player, his life as a dad, his life with you. This occasion was just another chapter of Tyler’s dream come true — your dream come true.

You glanced back at Jamie and nodded, smiling. “Actually... yeah,” you answered, a hint of surprise in your tone. “I think I did.”

_____

Late that night, long after you’d put the kids to bed — with Luca having insisted on sleeping in his new jersey — you and Tyler lay cuddled up on the couch, wine glasses now empty on the end table, feet entangled on the ottoman. The gifts Tyler had received were propped on the mantle across from you, out of reach of children’s hands and dogs’ paws. Tyler kissed the top of your head, inhaling your scent deeply as you absentmindedly fiddled with the button on his loosened dress shirt collar.

“Are you happy?” you asked softly. Tyler breathed a chuckle. “I don’t think happy even begins to cover it,” he told you, smoothing his hands up and down your bare arms. “It’s more like… amazed. But it’s not even because of the 1,000th game.”

You rolled your head toward his to look up at him, meeting his gaze. “What do you mean, baby?” you asked.

He glanced at the new additions to his memorabilia collection and then back at you, the corners of his mouth twitching into a thoughtful smile.

“The ceremony was great. The best. I’ll remember that for the rest of my life,” he told you. “But what I’ll remember most is the way you looked, carrying the baby and just smiling at me walking onto the ice. And the moment I saw my parents with Luca between them.” Tyler’s voice quivered as he spoke, and you tightened your grip around his waist, laying your stomach against his to lean up and kiss his jaw. Tears shone in his eyes as he gave you a grateful look, pulling your hand to his lips to kiss your fingers.

“My career has been far better than I deserve,” Tyler added. “But what makes me the happiest is just getting to do life every day with you, and the babies. And my parents and sisters, too. I’m just really feeling blessed.”

As he sniffed, you pressed a kiss firmly to his lips and said, “Life with you is more than I could’ve ever wished for, Ty. Every day is like a celebration of the love you and I share. Everything else, like tonight — it’s just icing on the cake.” Tyler nodded, giving you one more kiss as he whispered his gratitude for you.

[sonoftatooine]

ooh can I ask about any "Sith Anakin" of your choice and Winter Soldier AU for the ask game?

Hi, thanks for the ask! :D

SITH ANAKIN

My Raised as a Sith Anakin AU is pretty much what the name suggests - instead of becoming a Jedi at the end of TPM, Yoda senses too much danger in Anakin's training and refuses to admit him into the order, and because of this he's sent back to Tatooine and snatched up by Palpatine. The AU itself is made up of a series of fics which - very loosely - follow along the lines of various events of TCW. This particular extract is from 'The Clone Trooper', which is one of the very early fics in the series, and is one of the first things I wrote for SW:

The planet was nothing but dust and storms and death, and would have been noted as little more than an uninteresting blip on a starpilot's navigation computer if not for the raging battle that had just been waged on its surface several standard hours ago. Now, all was quiet—or it would have been, if not for the frequent winds that roared endlessly across the plains, and the crackling of bright, hungry flames in the distance. But beneath it, there was no shouting of soldiers, no screams of civilians—not even the inexorable clanking march of a battalion of droids carried through the air. All was silent. All was still.

Into this silence came two figures, one organic, one droid. The first was tall, cloaked in black with a deep hood pulled low over his head and his face covered up to the eyes. The second was a B1 series battle droid, painted with stark black stripes and clutching a blaster in one hand, and a hand-held scanner in the other. Despite one's expression being hidden, and the other incapable of forming an expression in the first place, neither seemed happy to be there.

With a sigh, Vader adjusted the cloth he had tied over his nose and mouth back on board the Twilight, his airways raw and his eyes stinging. It was a rather feeble barrier against the conditions of the planet, but the best he had had on hand. Really, it had been just his luck to arrive on this Force-damned little backwater just as a ferocious dust storm was kicking up. The stuff was whirling in the air so thick it was as if a muddy shroud had settled about them, absolute and impenetrable—he could barely have seen his own hand stretched out before him even if his eyes weren't being relentlessly assaulted with grit. It wouldn't have surprised him if he completed his mission only to find his ship half-buried under it once he returned. And that was to say nothing of Bee-One and himself in the long trek across the plain ahead of them. And that, that would not do.

The wind was howling all around him like the wailing of the dead, but Vader did not need an overactive imagination to hear the echoes of the battle reverberating in the Force. So little time had passed since the desolate plain had been full of living beings, bleeding out their suffering into the atmosphere around them, saturated thick with their fear, their anger and pain and hatred. It rushed in on him like the tides at Kamino as he opened himself up to the Force, so sudden and intense that it might have bowled him over had it not been for his years of training. He winced at the sensation—the Force was always so very loud, too loud and too bright, and now it burnt as if he were filled from crown to toe with too-hot lava—and his first instinct, as always, was to recoil. He forced himself to endure, pulling and pulling at each sensation until they lit the furnace of his own fury, and he felt his power uncoil like a dragon in his chest. The dust halted in its tracks.

“Thanks!,” came Bee-One's chipper voice over the roar of the wind. His attention was no longer on the scanner, but on the dust around them. The storm raged around them as fiercely as ever, but before the dust could reach them, it was pushed away, like filings repelled from a magnet. “That's a pretty handy trick!”

“My master has taught me a great deal,” Vader replied, his voice muffled by the cloth covering his face. He tried not to think about the one time he had seen Sidious do this, on another planet, with the sands that should have kept the Outlanders at bay parting before his new owner and closing about him like a cage, the blazing wreck of Watto's shop a faint orange glow in the distance, and his mother's screams drowned out by the shrieking of the winds— “Come on, we had better get moving.”

“Roger, roger!” It was the way Bee-One always said it—ever so slightly wry for all his chirpiness—and Vader clung to the familiarity of it, pushing the memories away. This was not Tatooine. No matter how much it may remind him— This was not Tatooine.

WINTER SOLDIER AU

So, I've managed to end up with two separate Winter Soldier AUs, so hopefully this is the one you wanted! This one is based on the premise that Anakin didn't turn to the Dark Side during ROTS and manages to escape Order 66 with a pregnant Padme. Later, the whole Skywalker family is captured by the Empire and Anakin has his memory wiped by Palpatine. It features sort of ghost Padme communicating with her family through dreams and Luke and Leia as Palpatine's adopted wards. This is a little snippet of a scene between Anakin and Leia that I'm writing (just for context, Leia knows that he's her father at this point but he doesn't remember):

"Lord Vader!" she exclaimed eyes wide as her bright little Force presence flared up in surprise. He raised his eyebrows at her expectantly, refusing to show any sign of being abashed at being caught unmasked and wandering through the halls of his master's private collection in the middle of the night. The little princess may be one of his master's heirs, but she was still a child - one who should have been asleep and safely tucked away in bed hours ago.

"Your Highness," he said. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

Leia, unsurprisingly, did not have the grace to look even remotely sheepish at having been caught so flagrantly flouting her father's rules and escaping both her nanny and her guards to boot. Instead, small arms crossed in a mimicry of his own pose, she simply stared up at him, unblinking and defiant, bestowing upon him the fiercest pout she could muster.

"I couldn't sleep," she said ever so slightly petulant. "What are you doing up?"

Vader frowned down at her, unimpressed.

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"About things not for the ears of princesses who should be in bed" he retorted sternly. Apparently, the girl was no more impressed by his evasiveness as he was by her antics, but that didn't mean she was going to get the answers she wanted. The gaze he levelled her with would have been enough to make one of his officers quake in their boots had they known to recognise him without his mask, but the unruly child did not so much as twitch under his firm stare. She glared right back at him, unrepentant.

"I don't want to go to bed," she snapped. "I'm not sleepy!"

Vader sighed. Clearly the hard line was not the right approach, but really, he should have expected that. Little Princess Leia had never been one to be cowed by disapproving words.

"You will be in the morning," he explained, with a patience that he suspected would earn him a few raised eyebrows from his men had they been here. "And then your father will be cross with you for wandering about the Palace on your own."

Mentioning his master was the wrong thing to say. All of a sudden, Leia's eyes filled with tears.

"He's not my father!," she cried stamping her foot on the ground with all the force she could muster. "He's horrible and I hate him! He punishes me no matter what I do so I might as well do something to get in trouble for."

ASK ME ABOUT MY WIPS

[feitansluver]

Two Birds on a Wire (THE PROLOGUE)

a Feitan x Reader series (gender neutral)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smidge of violence

Series Summary: If you wish to see the series summary, check out my masterlist (which should be up now, if not just give me 10 mins) which you can access through my pinned navigations post on my blog. It might have a teensy bit of spoilers but nothing too drastic since this is a major wip.

Prologue Summary: This story's beginning takes place before the troupe was even a figment of anyone's imagination. Meteor City is a dangerous place, and many can vouch for me when I say this. The place where good deeds never come truly from the heart, but instead for the chance to get what you wanted from someone else. Here begins the story of how Feitan Portor and Y/n L/n would soon meet, for real this time.

Author's Note: This entire series is inspired by the song "Two Birds" by Regina Spektor. I originally wrote this as a small x reader for a writing sample, but I like it so much, it'll be a series instead. This is going to be a slow burn series. As you can tell from my headcanons, I'm super detailed when it comes to adding backstories. It's even worse w actual stories. I'm not too sure how many chapters this will be but, Please enjoy! reblogs, likes, and constructive criticism is appreciated. Heads up, this will be the shortest 'chapter' of them all, so do be prepared haha. Italicized = Flashbacks!

The aroma of decaying matter engulfed the air like a thick fog, pulling down and wrapping itself around the shiny newcomers to the rather large wasteland of an area. These newcomers weren't wealthy, no, instead, they were here for the ego boost that accompanied the action of them tossing any worthless item that would instantly be scavenged by a poor resident, usually a child since they were small and naturally agile. Well, as agile as they could be growing up eating other's waste. Those bastards with their sickening laughs of arrogance. They'd be frowned upon in a normal society, but here, oh here, this was just what they'd call a Wednesday.

Where exactly is 'here,' you may be asking? To the people passing through, they might've considered it to be hell. Perhaps a dumpster. Hell, they might have even passed through with out even noticing the cries of agony as a mother's child passed away from malnutrition, without noticing the way that no resident seemed to acknowledge anything other than themselves, even the murder of a shopkeep in broad daylight. No, see they're too focused on trying to steal to survive, perhaps even slave away to a more fortunate resident for a chance at life, if you could even call this living. 'Maybe they're just introverted people,' oh how naïve you must be to even succumb to that conclusion. 'Here' there is no such thing as introversion, with this trait, you won't survive for more than 10 minutes.

'Here' is none other than Meteor City.

Coughing could be heard around every corner from the ill, penniless residents who were selling everything in their possession just to survive another miserable day. A feeble attempt truly, it's not as though the medicine was at least 50% likely to cause some sort of change. Nonetheless, Meteor City wasn't too bad, no. Children scurried amongst each other, shouting with smiles upon their somewhat sunken faces as they played along the areas of the city that were truly wastelands. There were no true friends created in Meteor City, but these children have yet to understand.

All except for one. A rather small boy, whether that be from malnutrition or genetics, with black hair and heartless black eyes sat upon an old shipping crate with an uninterested look upon his young face as he watched the children run about. "How pedestrian," was all that came out of his cracked, dehydrated lips. Only an 8-year-old from Meteor would consider playing to be pedestrian. Aside from his shocking attitude, with one glance you could certainly tell he wasn't from here, such 'exotic' features couldn't have been bred in this hellhole. The boy was dressed in what seemed to be traditional Asian clothes, ones that were too big for his figure, all black and seemingly thick yet still lightweight enough to where he wouldn't die from a heat stroke, the word "Feitan" engraved over his left breast. Perhaps this was his name, neither he or the townsfolk new, but it was what they called him when they believed he wasn't looking. He was frequently seen mumbling to himself, and paired with his stone cold gaze, he was deemed "unapproachable" to others, adults and children alike.

"Hey, you!" A call from one of the children pulled Feitan out of his thoughts. The blackette raised his gaze to find another small child before him, taller yes, but no doubt younger, no stranger to his eyes yet not an aly. "My name's Marley. Do you want to play with us?" Feitan rolled his eyes in annoyance and spoke with his broken interpretation of the city's language. "Why would me want t-," He analyzed the other children beside the runt Marley and froze his gaze upon another small child, who was smiling as they spoke to a friend, one he's kept his eye on for a long time.

(Y/n) (L/n).

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 years ago, Meteor City, 3rd Person Omniscient

The sky boomed a thunderous roar as lighting flashed across the city. Purples and dark ominous grey's colored over the townsfolk as the rushed their preparations for the storm. Adults were sheltering children, even if they didn't know them, most likely with the promise of something in return, while also taking in whatever possessions they needed before the storm's condition worsened.

A 4-year-old child, Y/n, ran about the poorly made streets, hoping to find a place of shelter before it was too late. Of course, since they're small and malnourished, they weren't very efficient, constantly stumbling over their two feet and pausing to catch their balance.

"Please, somebody help me!"

They continued to run through the now damp streets as the rain began to pour violently. Water drenched the poor child as they ran around banging on doors screaming for help, yet still, no one listened. It was almost as though the entire town had become a ghost city.Just as Y/n was about to give up, a hand grabbed their arm harshly and quickly pulled them into a small, dark, poorly-made shack.

Y/n jumped back in surprise with a yelp only to be pushed down by the other party, quite roughly might I add. "Shhh." A firm, seemingly male voice commanded with no other words as he sat beside the younger child. "Are you going to eat me??" Y/n spoke in a panicked tone. "The old lady by the library told me a story about a demon who comes out during horrible storms and eats the children who are wandering the streets." They cried with their arms curled around their legs, staring at the silhouette in fear beside of them.

The strange savior huffed under his breath. Why did he even pull this idiot into his home. Who was he to be providing shelter for others when he could barely take care of himself? God he never hated himself more until that moment. There was no place for some snotty kid, nor did he want to deal with them either. "Me no eat you. you taste bad, too whiny." Was all the boy said, hoping to get the other to take the hint and shut up.

"O-oh. My name's y/n, what's yours?" The 4-year-old spoke, no longer carrying a fearful tone. The older boy rolled his eyes at how naïve and trusting the other was. He didn't bother answering, and in fact, he never said another word to Y/n for the remaining duration of the storm.

Y/n ended up falling asleep after a while from all of the chaos earlier. The silhouette eyed the child beside him before closing his own eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. Soft snoring was all that was heard by the boy, aside from the pouring rain that is. Falling into his thoughts, he began to drift off into a light, alert slumber. Well, he was until he felt a weight hit his left shoulder.

His eyes shot open as he looked to his left with a scowl upon his face. "Idiot pest." He grumbled agitatedly as he noticed Y/n had fallen asleep on his shoulder. As much as he wanted to push them off, he quite enjoyed the quiet he was now receiving. With an annoyed sigh, he closed his own eyes and drifted to his previous light sleep.

When Y/n awoke with a yawn and began to identify their surroundings, they almost screamed in fear and confusion. They jumped up and racked their brain for some sort of explanation. Wait, it was coming to them now: the mystery boy and him providing them shelter. Properly looking at their surroundings, they noticed were still in the shack; however, this time, they were alone. With a quick glance outside, the small child ran out of the shack, patting themselves down to make sure they still had their items in their pockets.

A sigh of relief escaped their lips as they felt everything there. Digging into their pockets to find their last bit of money to buy a bit of food, Y/n noticed there was a folded piece of poorly maintained paper in their pockets. With a confused hum and a head tilt, they unfolded the piece of paper and read in poor grammar and messy writing:

"You owe me, Brat."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

They blackette's face remained in a deapan expression as his own eyes locked back with Marley's "Yes, me play." He spoke emotionlessly as he hopped down from his crate, dusting himself off as he began walking closer to the group of children. A handful of yays, yippees, and downright cries of joy could be heard from the crowd of children as they gathered one more player for their game. "Okay, great. So here's what we're going to play.."

The voices blurred and faded into nothingness as the eight-year-old fell into his cunning mind, his eyes yet again landed on Y/n with his usual piercing gaze. Only difference was that this time, there was a twinge of excitement and malice, lots of malice.

God how he wanted to make them pay. A total troglodyte they were, so ignorant and easily distracted by such trivial things.

You see, Feitan never got back that favor, and he certainly wasn't one to hold back when it came to exploiting others. Especially younger, naïve children who hadn't seen nor understood just how horrific the world could be. How horrific he could make their world be.

Go ahead, call him a monster. It's such a common title for him, he might've even believed it were his own name if it hadn't been for the thread engraved onto his shirt.

Feeling eyes watching them, Y/n turned to face the newer strange boy with their head tilted in confusion. The blackette walked over to the younger child, the two of them standing at the same height. "Hello." Feitan spoke up with a small smile and a friendly wave. It certainly looked realistic and Y/n couldn't feel any malicious intent within the other boy, though if only they knew how fake that smile was. "Hey there! I'm Y/n, what's your name?" The child spoke with a close-eyed smile as they waved in return.

'Oh this was going to be fun.' The boy thought with an inward chuckle of sadism.

Feitan Portor wasn't one to forgive and forget. Hell, he came from Meteor City, the place where every good action was never from the heart but instead the manipulative portion of people's minds. No matter who or what he had to go through,

He was getting back what he owed, and he was expecting it NOW.

[hetalia-nordic-trash]

The Heart Gambit (Dennor): 4-Treat me like a Fool

Word count: 1,682

Summary: Mathias got hurt while he and Lukas were looking for Emil, so Lukas brings him back to his hotel room to patch him up a bit.

Author's Note: Finals are officially over!!! This means I can get back to doing weekly updates for both this story AND my original story on Wattpad (link at the end). I'm also thinking of starting a fanfic of Romano x Mexico OC but that would be like my 4th WIP so I don't think I'll start it any time soon unless there's a lot of interest in it for some reason. I have also come to the conclusion that I looovveee (and am way better at) writing dialogue! Much more than descriptions, unfortunately. I'm trying to get better but man it's hard! Anyways, hope you enjoy this part! Please interact and leave feedback! It goes such a long way!

Warning: Brief mention of injury

Previous: 3-One-Way Screen

Mathias kept his hand pressed to the cut on his head and watched eagerly as Lukas fiddled with the key to his room before finally throwing it open in a huff and stepping inside. Mathias hesitated, pondering the implications of being in another man's room.

"Don't just stand there! Hurry up before someone sees!" Lukas hissed. "I can't believe I'm even helping you."

"I think I figured that out the first 100 times you said that under your breath on the way here." Mathias stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Besides, you really should believe it considering who bit who."

Mathias sat on the bed, taking in the room around him. It was much simpler than he imagined. Two small beds were shoved up against the edge of the room, and the table had been away from the wall so that a chess board could be set up on it. The bed he was sitting on was still made, but the sheets were disturbed as if someone has been laying on it. The bed next to him was a bit more disheveled. It was piled high with books and yet another chessboard. Among the piles of books, a sweater and pants were neatly folded, waiting to be worn.

"Sorry for the mess."

"It's fine."

Lukas made his way to the bathroom.

"I think the first aid kit is in here. Let's make this quick so you can leave-"

A scream rang out for the bathroom. It was quickly followed by Lukas's and Mathias's. Lukas slammed the door shut.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" Lukas shouted.

"...my business..." the voice replied meekly.

"You're dead."

Mathias perked up.

"Woah! There you are, Emil! We were looking all over for you! To be honest, I kinda thought you were dead."

A small click came from the door.

"Yeah...I've kinda been here this whole time. I set you and Lukas up because he wouldn't stop talking about you!" Emil teased.

Lukas flushed red and desperately jiggled to the door handle.

"shut up shut up shut up..."

"For real! All day and night! 'I wonder what Mathias is thinking about! He's ruining the sport but there's just something about him I wanna- '"

"Alright!" Lukas shouted again. "Just pass me the first aid kit and you get to live for 15 more minutes."

Some shuffling was heard in the bathroom. A single bandaid was pushed through the space under the door. This was followed by a single strip of gauze, then a small pouch of antibiotics, then wet wipe, then-

"You are so difficult sometimes."

"That's a funny way of saying 'you're welcome!'"

Mathias chuckled, but couldn't shake the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest. Did Lukas really talk about him? Did he really spare him a thought aside from hatred? He placed his hand to his chest, trying to calm himself.

Lukas made his way over with a handful of first aid supplies.

"Alright. Let's get this over with," Lukas sighed.

He opened a wet wipe and stood before Mathias. Lukas placed one hand on Mathias's head, by his wound.

"This might sting a little."

Mathias was at a loss for a moment. The warmth from Lukas's hand radiated through his whole body. He clung to this feeling, desperately wanting to remember his touch.

"It's fine. I can handle it." he managed.

He winced as Lukas began to clean the wound.

"Sorry..."

"N-no it's fine."

Mathias wasn't sure if he meant to do this, but Lukas began running his fingers through Mathias's hair. Mathias felt his cheeks flushing.

"Hey...pass me the antibiotic cream,"

Mathias met Lukas's eyes. Lukas quickly looked away, but he could still see that his cheeks, and more cutely his nose were lightly dusted pink. Mathias smiled.

"Can you pass me the antibiotic cream? Unless you WANT an infection!" Lukas repeated, finally meeting Mathias's gaze.

"You're pink." Mathias commented, trying to sound confident.

"You're a dumbass."

"You're cute..."

Mathias knew he could be impulsive, but if he was any more impulsive than he already was, he would've chosen to throw himself out of the hotel window. How could he just say that!? OUTLOUD!?

Lukas turned bright red and scoffed, looking away from Mathias again.

"Just...hand me the cream already...before I personally give you an infection," Lukas muttered.

Mathias was a bit relieved that Lukas didn't slap him or spit in his open wound. He passed Lukas the cream.

"You don't have to do it for me you know... I can do it myself," Mathias said, weaker than he was expecting.

Lukas shook his head, and Mathias felt the cool cream being applied to his injury.

"It's fine. I don't mind really. I want to do it. Well... 'want' is a strong word..."

Lukas cleaned his hands and put the bandaid on Mathias's injury and placed his hand there. Mathias felt his heart skip a beat as he took Lukas's hand and pressed it to his cheek. He waited for Lukas to pull his hand away, but instead, he felt Lukas rub his thumb on his cheek.

Lukas slowly pulled his hand away, and stiffened, realizing what had just happened.

"Well...you can go now...don't let anyone see you leave," Lukas huffed, still bright pink. He grabbed a book, sat down, and immediately started reading.

Mathias got up and slowly made his way to the door. He was still reeling, but his heart ached to be close to Lukas again.

"Heh, you know, if you promise not to injure me again, you should meet me at the park again tomorrow morning,". Mathias watched his words very carefully, trying not to sound desperate.

Lukas buried his head deeper into his book.

"...fine. Tomorrow morning."

"Yes!" Mathias mouthed.

He peaked his head out to make sure the hallway was clear, and slipped out, closing the door behind him.

---

"Is he gone yet!?" Emil called from the bathroom.

Lukas slammed his book closed.

"Yes. He's gone."

The bathroom door swung open and rolled into bed.

"Great. Goodnight."

"Wait you're going to bed right now!?"

"Yes. It's late."

"Are we not going to talk about this?" Lukas asked, sitting at the foot of Lukas's bed and yanking the covers off him.

"Hey! Come on I was just getting comfortable!"

"I can't believe you tried to set me up with him!"

Emil sat up.

"You really can't believe it? He's all you ever talk about these days! I figured talking to him would get him out of your system, but here you are... talking about him... again." Emil replied, rolling his eyes.

Lukas blushed.

"I don't talk about him all the time!"

"Oh my g- YES YOU DO!" Emil cried, yanking the covers back.

"The past few months it's been the same pattern! Every interview, update, news headline with his name in it you feel inclined to talk about it! You always scoff and say 'he has so much potential' or 'why is he doing this' and it's been that way for God knows how long!"

Emil turned over onto his side and turned off the lamp on the nightstand beside him.

"He's the first thing you think of when you wake up, and the last name on your lips before you pass out onto a pile of books. Admit you love him already and let me go to sleep!"

Lukas felt as though he'd been shot through the chest. He'd avoided that word for so long, haphazardly replacing it mentally with 'appreciate' or even 'admire' on the good days. It couldn't be love. The feeling of running his hands through Mathias's hair, letting him hold his hand to his cheek...those were just...

Those weren't things acquaintances did.

"I. Don't. Love. Him." Lukas spat. "I don't love anyone. Except you but that's different."

He stood up and started pacing by his bed.

"I don't care how I act around him or how much I think of him. I don't love him! I don't love anyone and I never will because there are more important things than him! Even if I did, it doesn't matter because I don't really know him and I never did! I can't believe you'd think I'd be in love with him! I'd never even met him before this!"

"Just say you love him!"

"NO!"

"But you do!"

Lukas slammed his hands on the table.

"You're wrong! I don't love Mathias! I don't love anyone! And I never will! Because love is a waste of time!" Lukas shouted, quickly turning to wipe the hot tears that dripped down his cheeks.

Emil let out a long sigh and turned over in the bed.

"You know, Mathias really likes you. But if you want to push everyone away for a stupid game, then go ahead. And I hope you win so that I won't have to hear you complain about him this time next week since that's all you care about right? Winning?"

Lukas could barely speak with the lump in his throat. Everything he screamed at Emil was something he's said himself every day. Every day he'd tell himself not to be distracted, to not need anyone, to not have a beating heart in his chest. And it had worked so far, but Mathias... Mathias was different. How? He couldn't understand how Mathias made his heart beat a little more or how when Mathias took his hand his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't fair. He wished deep down that he could hate Mathias with every fiber of his being. He wished he didn't need anyone else in his life. He wished that his heart didn't beat a little more whenever he looked into Mathias's striking blue eyes. But most of all, he wished he would be spared from the heartache to come. Win or lose, he that they'd want nothing to do with each other after the match.

Lukas still felt the tears coming and did his best to wipe them away and take a deep breath.

"Goodnight Emil," Lukas managed.

"Goodnight nerd."

---

Next: Chapter: 5-Too Clever by Half

a/n: OOOoooohhh things are definitely starting to happen now! I’m going to take this time to plug my non-hetalia work “ Intro to Love ” about a college student who struggles to keep her superpowers a secret and while making new friends.  How much of her normal life will she give up to save her friends from a mysterious villain that drains students’ brains and turns them into zombies? The complete Chapter 1 is out NOW AND so is Chapter 2.1-'The last of the Good Days'! Go read them! Right now! They're waiting for you!

Thanks again for reading! Send some feedback my way! Can’t wait to continue this story!

Quotev link: here

[thechosenburrito]

The Heart Gambit (Dennor): 4-Treat me like a Fool

Word count: 1,682

Summary: Mathias got hurt while he and Lukas were looking for Emil, so Lukas brings him back to his hotel room to patch him up a bit.

Author's Note: Finals are officially over!!! This means I can get back to doing weekly updates for both this story AND my original story on Wattpad (link at the end). I'm also thinking of starting a fanfic of Romano x Mexico OC but that would be like my 4th WIP so I don't think I'll start it any time soon unless there's a lot of interest in it for some reason. I have also come to the conclusion that I looovveee (and am way better at) writing dialogue! Much more than descriptions, unfortunately. I'm trying to get better but man it's hard! Anyways, hope you enjoy this part! Please interact and leave feedback! It goes such a long way!

Warning: Brief mention of injury

Previous: 3-One-Way Screen

Mathias kept his hand pressed to the cut on his head and watched eagerly as Lukas fiddled with the key to his room before finally throwing it open in a huff and stepping inside. Mathias hesitated, pondering the implications of being in another man's room.

"Don't just stand there! Hurry up before someone sees!" Lukas hissed. "I can't believe I'm even helping you."

"I think I figured that out the first 100 times you said that under your breath on the way here." Mathias stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Besides, you really should believe it considering who bit who."

Mathias sat on the bed, taking in the room around him. It was much simpler than he imagined. Two small beds were shoved up against the edge of the room, and the table had been away from the wall so that a chess board could be set up on it. The bed he was sitting on was still made, but the sheets were disturbed as if someone has been laying on it. The bed next to him was a bit more disheveled. It was piled high with books and yet another chessboard. Among the piles of books, a sweater and pants were neatly folded, waiting to be worn. "Sorry for the mess." "It's fine." Lukas made his way to the bathroom. "I think the first aid kit is in here. Let's make this quick so you can leave-" A scream rang out for the bathroom. It was quickly followed by Lukas's and Mathias's. Lukas slammed the door shut. "What the hell are you doing here!?" Lukas shouted. "...my business..." the voice replied meekly. "You're dead." Mathias perked up. "Woah! There you are, Emil! We were looking all over for you! To be honest, I kinda thought you were dead." A small click came from the door. "Yeah...I've kinda been here this whole time. I set you and Lukas up because he wouldn't stop talking about you!" Emil teased. Lukas flushed red and desperately jiggled to the door handle. "shut up shut up shut up..." "For real! All day and night! 'I wonder what Mathias is thinking about! He's ruining the sport but there's just something about him I wanna- '" "Alright!" Lukas shouted again. "Just pass me the first aid kit and you get to live for 15 more minutes." Some shuffling was heard in the bathroom. A single bandaid was pushed through the space under the door. This was followed by a single strip of gauze, then a small pouch of antibiotics, then wet wipe, then- "You are so difficult sometimes." "That's a funny way of saying 'you're welcome!'" Mathias chuckled, but couldn't shake the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest. Did Lukas really talk about him? Did he really spare him a thought aside from hatred? He placed his hand to his chest, trying to calm himself. Lukas made his way over with a handful of first aid supplies. "Alright. Let's get this over with," Lukas sighed. He opened a wet wipe and stood before Mathias. Lukas placed one hand on Mathias's head, by his wound. "This might sting a little." Mathias was at a loss for a moment. The warmth from Lukas's hand radiated through his whole body. He clung to this feeling, desperately wanting to remember his touch. "It's fine. I can handle it." he managed. He winced as Lukas began to clean the wound. "Sorry..." "N-no it's fine." Mathias wasn't sure if he meant to do this, but Lukas began running his fingers through Mathias's hair. Mathias felt his cheeks flushing. "Hey...pass me the antibiotic cream," Mathias met Lukas's eyes. Lukas quickly looked away, but he could still see that his cheeks, and more cutely his nose were lightly dusted pink. Mathias smiled. "Can you pass me the antibiotic cream? Unless you WANT an infection!" Lukas repeated, finally meeting Mathias's gaze. "You're pink." Mathias commented, trying to sound confident. "You're a dumbass." "You're cute..." Mathias knew he could be impulsive, but if he was any more impulsive than he already was, he would've chosen to throw himself out of the hotel window. How could he just say that!? OUT LOUD!? Lukas turned bright red and scoffed, looking away from Mathias again. "Just...hand me the cream already...before I personally give you an infection," Lukas muttered. Mathias was a bit relieved that Lukas didn't slap him or spit in his open wound. He passed Lukas the cream. "You don't have to do it for me you know... I can do it myself," Mathias said, weaker than he was expecting. Lukas shook his head, and Mathias felt the cool cream being applied to his injury. "It's fine. I don't mind really. I want to do it. Well... 'want' is a strong word..." Lukas cleaned his hands, put the bandaid on Mathias's injury, and placed his hand there. Mathias felt his heart skip a beat as he took Lukas's hand and pressed it to his cheek. He waited for Lukas to pull his hand away, but instead, he felt Lukas rub his thumb on his cheek. Lukas slowly pulled his hand away, and stiffened, realizing what had just happened. "Well...you can go now...don't let anyone see you leave," Lukas huffed, still bright pink. He grabbed a book, sat down, and immediately started reading. Mathias got up and slowly made his way to the door. He was still reeling, but his heart ached to be close to Lukas again. "Heh, you know, if you promise not to injure me again, you should meet me at the park again tomorrow morning,". Mathias watched his words very carefully, trying not to sound desperate. Lukas buried his head deeper into his book. "...fine. Tomorrow morning." "Yes!" Mathias mouthed. He peaked his head out to make sure the hallway was clear, and slipped out, closing the door behind him. --- "Is he gone yet!?" Emil called from the bathroom. Lukas slammed his book closed. "Yes. He's gone." The bathroom door swung open and rolled into bed. "Great. Goodnight." "Wait you're going to bed right now!?" "Yes. It's late." "Are we not going to talk about this?" Lukas asked, sitting at the foot of Lukas's bed and yanking the covers off him. "Hey! Come on I was just getting comfortable!" "I can't believe you tried to set me up with him!" Emil sat up. "You really can't believe it? He's all you ever talk about these days! I figured talking to him would get him out of your system, but here you are... talking about him... again." Emil replied, rolling his eyes. Lukas blushed. "I don't talk about him all the time!" "Oh my g- YES YOU DO!" Emil cried, yanking the covers back. "The past few months it's been the same pattern! Every interview, update, news headline with his name in it you feel inclined to talk about it! You always scoff and say 'he has so much potential' or 'why is he doing this' and it's been that way for God knows how long!" Emil turned over onto his side and turned off the lamp on the nightstand beside him. "He's the first thing you think of when you wake up, and the last name on your lips before you pass out onto a pile of books. Admit you love him already and let me go to sleep!" Lukas felt as though he'd been shot through the chest. He'd avoided that word for so long, haphazardly replacing it mentally with 'appreciate' or even 'admire' on the good days. It couldn't be love. The feeling of running his hands through Mathias's hair, letting him hold his hand to his cheek...those were just... Those weren't things acquaintances did. "I. Don't. Love. Him." Lukas spat. "I don't love anyone. Except you but that's different." He stood up and started pacing by his bed. "I don't care how I act around him or how much I think of him. I don't love him! I don't love anyone and I never will because there are more important things than him! Even if I did, it doesn't matter because I don't really know him and I never did! I can't believe you'd think I'd be in love with him! I'd never even met him before this!" "Just say you love him!" "NO!" "But you do!" Lukas slammed his hands on the table. "You're wrong! I don't love Mathias! I don't love anyone! And I never will! Because love is a waste of time!" Lukas shouted, quickly turning to wipe the hot tears that dripped down his cheeks. Emil let out a long sigh and turned over in the bed. "You know, Mathias really likes you. But if you want to push everyone away for a stupid game, then go ahead. And I hope you win so that I won't have to hear you complain about him this time next week since that's all you care about right? Winning?" Lukas could barely speak with the lump in his throat. Everything he screamed at Emil was something he's said himself every day. Every day he'd tell himself not to be distracted, to not need anyone, to not have a beating heart in his chest. And it had worked so far, but Mathias... Mathias was different. How? He couldn't understand how Mathias made his heart beat a little more or how when Mathias took

his hand his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't fair. He wished deep down that he could hate Mathias with every fiber of his being. He wished he didn't need anyone else in his life. He wished that his heart didn't beat a little more whenever he looked into Mathias's striking blue eyes. But most of all, he wished he would be spared from the heartache to come. Win or lose, he that they'd want nothing to do with each other after the match. Lukas still felt the tears coming and did his best to wipe them away and take a deep breath. "Goodnight Emil," Lukas managed. "Goodnight nerd." --- Next: Chapter: 5-On Mountains with You (Coming soon!) a/n: OOOoooohhh things are definitely starting to happen now! I’m going to take this time to plug my non-hetalia work “ Intro to Love ” about a college student who struggles to keep her superpowers a secret and while making new friends.  How much of her normal life will she give up to save her friends from a mysterious villain that drains students’ brains and turns them into zombies? The complete Chapter 1 is out NOW AND so is Chapter 2.1-'The last of the Good Days'! Go read them! Right now! They're waiting for you! Thanks again for reading! Send some feedback my way! Can’t wait to continue this story! Quotev link: here

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Matthew’s Monster Mystery | Words: 2759 | Rating: Mature

Pairing: Gen | (past John x Abigail) | Tags: monster AU, modern AU, WIP

Credit: inspired by @veradia‘s art | with input from @fangirl-ramblings and @sad-sweet-cowboah

Summary: When John insists on going to a Halloween party, Abigail worries that people might catch on that she and her friends aren't just dressed up as monsters. If only she knew that the night would take a turn for the worse.

Arthur hears voices the second he opens the apartment door, meaning that his three roomies are home, and judging from the sound of it, they're arguing.

"Come on, Abby. It's a party, not a matter of life and death."

"John, you're literally dead," Abigail counters, making Arthur huff a laugh.

He checks the mail on the counter while the argument continues in the other room.

"So? Doesn't mean I have to act like it," John says. "Back me up here, Sadie."

"He has a point," Sadie says, and Arthur enters the room right as Abigail scuffs at her in disbelief.

"What's going on here?" Arthur asks, and when both John and Abigail attempt to answer, he points at Sadie. "I'd rather hear it from her."

John leans back against the couch like a sulking child while Abigail crosses her arms and glares at Arthur.

"John brought home this flyer for a Halloween party he wants to go to," Sadie says, nodding to a piece of paper on the table. "Guess what Abigail has to say about that."

"I can imagine," Arthur says, and Abigail huffs.

"And you know I'm right."

It's one of those times Arthur wonders why exactly he lives with these quarrelers, but as a werewolf, he can't exactly be picky. After all, he's lucky that they want to live with him. If only they left him out of these disputes.

To stall, Arthur picks up the flyer and reads through it, feeling everybody's eyes on himself.

"I understand your concerns, Abigail," Arthur begins, only to be interrupted by John, who jumps up from the sofa.

"Oh, come on. Not you, too!"

"But," Arthur continues, emphasizing the word as he looks at John, "I don't see the harm."

John slaps his hands together, throwing a triumphant "Ha!" at Abigail. She only rolls her eyes at him before turning to Arthur.

"You can't be serious," she says. "Us? At a party? I thought we agreed to fly under the radar. After all, we're not exactly the fitting in kind."

"In this case, we are," Arthur says, holding up the flyer. "Everybody's going to be in costume. I wouldn't have to worry about any teeth or fur showing, and John could go out without having to hide the fact that he's nothing but a rotting corpse for once."

"Appreciate the support, brother," John throws in with a sarcastic tone.

Arthur grins at him before Sadie snatches the flyer from his hand to read through it as well. "Look, Abigail, it's not even a Halloween party. It's tonight, not tomorrow. And it takes place in an abandoned factory. The area is huge, and nobody's going to look at us twice. And if they do, we'll just claw their eyes out and eat their hearts."

"Not. Funny," Abigail says, looking like she's about to claw Sadie's eyes out. She might have done so if it wasn't for the fact that Sadie could just pop them back in without harm.

"You could use a day off yourself," Arthur says, trying to set Abigail at ease. "You might not have the physical problems we have, but we know you're struggling with hiding all the time."

"Yeah," John throws in before Abigail can disagree once more. "Imagine a night out. Putting on a nice dress, dusting off the pointy hat. And if you throw some sparks, people will think it's a cool party trick."

"I don't know," Abigail says, the fight leaving her.

"Come on," John says. He walks over to Abigail and takes her hands. "Let me see those sparkling eyes."

Abigail tries her best to hide it, but a smile creeps onto her face. It's moments like these that make Arthur wonder why the two of them are not a couple anymore. They'd be great if they could just stop with the constant fighting.

"Show us, Abby," Sadie says, and when Abigail shakes her head, Arthur chimes in as well.

"You know you want to."

"Fine." Abigail takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opens them, they're glowing with golden spots. "Let's go to the party."

--------

Arthur shoulders his way through the crowd to get back to their table. The gang turned him into their personal waiter since he has the best assets to get through the dancing people. 

"Coming through," he growls, and a steampunk Sherlock jumps to the side, dragging a person in a full-body fox costume with them to make room.

Climbing the stairs to the upper level, Arthur has the same effect on a few more people. Although they must think that it's a costume, they still seem mighty impressed. To celebrate the occasion, Arthur didn't bother to even put on a shirt, his fur and general body heat enough to keep him warm. The only thing he's holding back at the moment is the claws. It's kind of hard to carry drinks with them.

At the table, Arthur hands Sadie a beer before putting down two bottles of whiskey. Abigail's still nipping on her first cocktail, her eyes growing big at the sight.

"What are you doing? I thought we were at least trying to be inconspicuous."

"We are," John says before grabbing one of the bottles. "Nobody's even looking at us."

He takes a drag from his joint, and Abigail rolls her eyes. "Why would you risk getting in trouble with that? You can't get high anyway."

"I just like the taste," John says before opening the whiskey bottle and drinking from it as if it was water.

He's clearly baiting Abigail, but she doesn't lay into him for once, looking at Arthur instead. "Why do you always indulge him?"

"Maybe I just want to see how much his body can take before it falls apart."

Sadie laughs when John makes a face, and even Abigail fights a smile. Arthur pulls up his glass and pours himself a drink before pushing it over to Abigail.

"Think you can give it a little kick?"

Just like John, Arthur can't get drunk from alcohol alone, but being roommates with a witch has its perks. It didn't take them long to figure out that Abigail's magic can spice things up a little.

Abigail looks around as if to make sure that nobody's watching. Arthur's convinced that even if somebody does, they wouldn't care. Most people here are drunk, high, or otherwise engaged. Abigail shrugs before holding out her fist over Arthur's glass. She opens it up and then moves her finger in a circle. The liquid in the glass glows and moves with her finger, then a small puff of smoke goes up in the air.

"Thank you kindly," Arthur says, and Abigail smiles.

"I guess it's really pretty safe."

"Told you," John chimes in before pushing his bottle over to Abigail. "Now do mine."

Abigail frowns at him, venom in her voice when she speaks. "John Marston, when the hell will you finally learn some manners?"

"What? You did it for Arthur."

"He asked," Abigail spits, but before she can say more, Sadie jumps up.

"That's it, you two are killing my vibe. I need something to do. You coming, Arthur?"

The chances of John and Abigail getting into another fight is pretty high, so Arthur gets to his feet. "Right behind you."

They make their way downstairs, and Sadie keeps looking around as if she's searching for something in particular.

"You got a plan?" Arthur asks, and Sadie smiles.

"I think I do."

A few minutes later, they're standing beside a table that's filled with cups. Sadie found a few "easy boys" as she called them, and challenged them to a game of beer pong. While she's playing, Arthur stands to the side and enjoys the show.

Since Sadie doesn't even have a bloodstream the alcohol could get into, it's no trouble for her to have a drink or two. Not that it really comes to that. All of her balls hit their targets, and the "easy boys" don't stand a chance.

A few people come closer to the table, watching as Sadie's opponents do their best to beat her, one of them swaying dangerously from one side to the other. They didn't stand a chance from the start, but the drunker they get, the funnier it is to watch them try. After a while, even Arthur begins to feel his pumped up drink and cheers for Sadie. At least until a small figure appears next to him.

"Hey, big boy," the woman says, smiling at him.

She's wearing a tight black dress, her hair falling in waves over her shoulder. Arthur's eyes are drawn to her blood-red lips and then to her nails when she trails them along his arm.

"That is such a great costume. The fur looks so real."

"It is," Arthur says, regretting it a second later.

The red lady doesn't seem to care, though. She keeps touching him and looks up to him through her fake lashes. "I wish I would have dressed as Red Riding Hood. You could have been my big bad wolf."

A shiver runs down Arthur's spine, something he rarely gets to feel. "I- uhm," he starts while drawing a complete blank for what to say next.

"Told you, I'll win, honey," a familiar voice says, and Sadie grabs Arthur's arm before dragging him down to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Let's head back."

She doesn't give the red lady a second glance and pulls Arthur along. When they're out of earshot, Arthur sighs. "Thank you."

"You looked like you were about to pass out."

"I'm not even sure what she wanted."

Sadie laughs. "Climb you like a tree would be my guess."

"But why?"

"One of these days, we'll get you a nice box of self-esteem, and then you'll see." Sadie leans in, putting her lips right by Arthur's ear. "Big bad wolf."

"Just keep walking," Arthur grunts and maneuvers Sadie up the stairs.

Surprisingly enough, they find John and Abigail sitting on the same side of the table. Judging by Abigail's rosy cheeks, they buried the hatchet and gave John's bottle a little kick after all.

"You seem chipper," Sadie says, and Abigail shrugs.

"When you can't fight them, join them. Right?" Abigail says, looking back and forth between Arthur and Sadie. "What have you been up to."

"Sadie dragged some guys," Arthur says, and John and Abigail both laugh.

"They had it coming," Sadie says, waving her hand dismissively. "Way more important - Arthur got hit on."

"By who?" Abigail asks.

"Sexy vampire lady," Sadie says with a grin.

John leans back in his chair with an expression on his face like Christmas came early. "Bet you loved that."

"Just shut up," Arthur grunts before emptying his glass and reaching for his bottle to fill it right up again.

Abigail pats his arm. "She probably wasn't the one. Doesn't mean we can't keep looking."

"How about her?" John asks, nodding to a small group next to them. "The fairy. What do you think, Arthur?"

The woman in question is about Sadie's height, with long silvery hair. She's wearing a dress that looks like the wind blew up some leaves, and she walked away with the ones that got stuck.

"That I'd snap her like a twig."

"No, don't say that," Abigail says, and Sadie leans over the table to get a better look. 

"You think she's the real deal? That doesn't look like a wig, and she sure has the physique for a fairy."

They all stare at the woman now, but it's hard to tell if someone is a monster or not. After all, they might be pretty good at hiding, just like the four of them are.

"Bet you 5 bucks she's real," John says, and Arthur takes another look at her.

It's been a while that he ran into someone like them. To him, the fairy looks as real as the vampire lady.

"Fine, you're on."

"I say fake, too," Abigail says. "From what I can tell, there's no magic on her."

"You might be right, but I still bet on her being real," Sadie says, leaning around Arthur for a better view. "I wouldn't mind a little magic from her."

"Let's find out then," John says, and before Abigail can hold him back, he already stumbles over to the poor woman.

They don't understand what John's saying, but while the woman smiles at first, her expression quickly changes, and she slaps John before storming off. 

Despite the harsh treatment, John comes over with a smile. "Guess I was wrong. She's no fairy."

He throws money on the table, and Arthur pockets it while Abigail studies John's face.

"You just got slapped, and you lost the bet. What are you smiling about?" she asks.

"Fake fairy was very excited when I asked about her number for the pretty blonde at my table," John says, winking at Sadie. "She only slapped me when I asked if I could watch."

"You're an idiot," Abigail says, but Sadie jumps to her feet.

"You're a genius," she says, clapping John's shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

John sits down and takes a swig from his bottle. "One down, one to go. So, vampire lady, huh?"

Arthur only shakes his head. The last time John tried to set him up didn't end well, and Arthur has no desire to try again. 

"Why one to go?" Abigail asks. "What about me?"

"Oh, I know who you're going home with," John says, and by the way he looks at her, she and Arthur can tell what he means.

"No way," Abigail laughs, but Arthur has seen those signs before.

"I'll get another drink," he says, getting up from his chair.

Abigail shakes her head at John, who's still giving her what he might think are bedroom eyes before turning to Arthur. "Your bottle is practically full."

"You two take that one," Arthur says. 

He doesn't want to stick around. Either John and Abigail are going to fight again or they'll get along way better than Arthur cares to see. Although he's not that interested in going on the prowl, he'll rather take his chances in the crowd. Maybe he can find somebody nice after all. Everything, as long as it's not a vampire.

-------

When they leave two hours later, Arthur's just tired, Sadie has fake fairy's phone number in her pocket, and John and Abigail whisper and laugh with each other about things only they find funny.

Therefore, Arthur's happy when his phone lights up with an incoming video call.

"Hey guys, look," he says, waving the other's over before answering the call. "Hey, Hosea."

Their friend and somewhat father figure waves back at them. "Hello, Arthur. How are you doing?"

"We're just walking home from a party."

"Party, huh? That's smart. Blending in with the Halloween crowd."

Both John and Abigail break into fits of laughter, and Sadie huffs. It's funny to hear Hosea call John smart of all people.

"What are you up to this late?" Arthur says, trying his best to focus on Hosea.

"I'm meeting a friend, we're-"

Hosea trails off, and Arthur can see him look around.

"You're alright, Hosea?"

"Yeah, I just thought I-" Hosea starts, but then he looks away from his phone again, his eyes growing big. "Hey, what are you-"

The picture shakes, Hosea disappearing out of the frame. "Let me go," he grunts, then the image goes dark.

"Hosea," Arthur shouts, but his phone switches the screen, showing him that the call has ended.

"What the hell was that?" Sadie says, and John and Abigail both stare at Arthur, all happiness drained from their faces.

"I think someone attacked him," Arthur says, his whole body tingling at the words.

He looks down at his phone and finally has the sense to call Hosea back. It rings again and again, but nobody answers.

"What now?" John asks. "We should do something, right?"

"Find him, of course," Abigail says.

"Was he in the park?" Sadie asks. "I think I saw that ugly fountain in the background."

The picture of what they just saw comes up in Arthur's mind. "You're right, we should go. Maybe whoever he was about to meet wasn't a friend after all."

They quickly make their way along the street towards the nearby park. Another shiver runs down Arthur's spine, giving him a bad feeling. He'd never admit it out loud, but he doesn't believe that they'll find Hosea so easily. 

Something is very, very wrong.

[roci-by-book]

Nemesis Games [WIP]

“Towers of curved ceramic and steel made great piles, denser than mountains. Hair-thin wire hundreds of kilometers long stood on plastic spools taller than Filip.” (5)

“Filip shuffled down the rows of welding rigs and metal printers. Tubs of steel and ceramic dust fine than talcum. Spiral-core mounts. Layers of Kevlar and foam strike armor piled up like the biggest bed in the solar system.” (5)

“At the emergency ward, he found himself wheeled into an automated surgical bed not that different from the ones on the Rocinante.” (158)

“The passage was the usual design of inflated Mylar and titanium ribs.” (221-222)

“The curve was like the airlock on the Roci, and the design of the latch. Martian design. And more than that, Martian Navy.” (222)

"The bridge looked like the Rocinante's younger brother" (222)

“She pulled herself out of her crash couch and walked out to the common room. It was so much like the Roci’s galley that her brain kept trying to recognize it, failing, and trying again.” (262)

“Magnetic pallets locked to the decks and walls in neat rows. She wondered idly where it had all come from, and what promises had been given in exchange. She went to the nearest, plugged the array into the pallet, and popped it open. The crates unfolded.” (263)

“A toolbox in the machine shop had a bent hasp and, given a few minutes, could be forced open. The Allen wrenches inside would open the access panel on the lift wall between the crew quarters and the airlock, which was where the secondary diagnostic handset for the comm array was stored.” (304)

“While she worked, pressing the plastic into the seams, scraping out whatever had gathered there, doing it again, she tried to fit the new information into the larger scheme of things.” (306)

“When the deck was clean, she dropped the spatula into the recycler, stood, and stretched.” (307)

“In her bunk, her fingers laced behind her neck, she stared up at the blackness on the ceiling. The interface screen at her side was dead.” (311)

“The ship lurched hard, snapping the gimbals of the couches forty-five degrees to the deck.” (329)

“One bulkhead failed to open, reporting vacuum on the other side, and they had to backtrack.” (330)

“The comm array was unable to transmit either broadcast or tightbeam.” (330)

“She popped the straps loose and sat up, pulling her leg away from the needle.” (338)

“In the lift, she selected the machine shop and gripped the handholds as the mechanism dropped her down the body of the ship.” (338)

“The machine shop was empty, all the tools locked in place, but with enough tolerance that when the ship lurched, they all rattled: metal against metal like the ship itself was learning to talk.“ (338)

“She stumbled, her head crashing against the metal shelves.” (339)

“All the wrenches, epoxy welders, voltage meters, and cans of air and lubricant were strapped in place, She flipped through the close-packed layers to a line of Allen wrenches and plucked out the 10 mm.” (339)

“She gathered up a voltage tester, a wiring crimp, and a light-duty soldering iron and stuffed them in her pockets.” (339)

“She killed the lift between the crew quarters and the airlock, bracing herself so that the deceleration didn’t leave her trapped in the middle of empty air.” (340)

“The access panel was fifteen centimeters high and forty wide and opened on the major electrical routing through the center of the ship. If she cut though all the cables there with a welding torch, all the traffic would have rerouted instantly to other channels. Apart from a few warning indicators, nothing would happen.” (340)

“The screws were integral to the plate and didn’t come free, but she felt it when the metal threads lost their grip.” (340)

“Ten. The plate came free. She scooped up the handset, checking its charge. The batteries were nearly full. Connection read good.” (341)

“Channel eighteen was a comm array using the D4/L4 protocols that the Rocinante did for broadcast.” (341)

“Hand over hand, she pulled herself along the shaft and then into the corridors.” (342)

“The narrow corridors of the crew deck seemed too wide.” (344)

“The occasional ticking and popping of the expansion joins adjusting to shifts in temperature were like the knocking of ghosts.”(344)

“He undid the straps on his couch, floating forwards.” (346)

“He stopped at the med bay on the way to his quarters.” (346)

“Fred landed feetfirst on the wall, ankles hooked into the handholds like he’d been born in the Belt.”(348)

““All the bunks are the same,” Holden said. “Except mine. You can’t have mine.”" (349)

“The halls had the same anti-spalling covering that the bridge and the mess had, but marked with location codes and colored strips that would help navigate the ship. One line was deep red with HANGER BAY written in yellow Hindi, English, Bengali, Farsi, and Chinese.” (355)

“Across the corridor from Alex, Prime Minister Smith was huddled behind the lip of a doorway.” (356)

“Another burst of fire sang past, tearing long black strips from the walls and deck and filling the air with the smell of cordite.” (356)

“She drank the same version of chamomile tea that the Rocinante made, and it felt like having a secret ally.” (364)

“The mess was empty, the screens turned off and the crew set away.” (364)

“First drawer: gauze and bandages. Second drawer: one-use blood cards for maybe a hundred different field tests. Third drawer: emergency medical supplies like decompression kits, adrenaline shots, defibrillation tape.” (368)

“The medic had her sit up, the cushion of the medical table crackling under her shifting weight. The analgesic was a spray that went in Naomi’s mouth. It tasted like fake cherry and mold.” (369)

“The cabinet doors were open, spilling test cards and preloaded hypodermics across the floor.” (369)

“She fell to the side, her belly to the deck, decompression kits the size of her thumb pressing into her face as Miral writhed around to kneel on her back.” (369)

“She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t, so she just watched as Karal opened the door then closed it behind him. The lock slid closed.” (371)

“Wet with her saliva and no bigger than her thumb, it was the sort of thing any mech driver kept with her. A tiny ampoule of injectable oxygenated artificial blood and a panic button what would make an emergency medical request for an airlock to cycle.” (371)

“Fred held up the coffee cup. The name TACHI hadn’t quite worn off the side, red and black letters half-erased by use.” (381)

“The crash couch was bolted to the deck with thick steel and reinforced ceramic canted so that any direction the force came from was compression on one leg or another.” (407)

“The drawers were thinner metal, the same gauge, more or less, as the lockers. She pulled them out as far as they would open, examining the construction of the latches, the seams where the metal had been folded, searching for clues or inspiration.” (407)

“The tiny black thumb of the decompression kit, she kept tucked at her waist, ready to go if she could just find a way.” (407)

“The mirror was polished alloy built into the wall. No help there. If she could take apart the vacuum fan in the toilet...” (408)

“A simple EVA suit hung there, suspended in the null g by thin bands of elastic.” (423)

“The indicator went from green to red under her thumb.” (424)

“The airlock door closed behind him, the magnetic seals clacking.” (424)

“The lock was small enough he could put flat palms on both doors.” (424)

“Naomi thumbed the emergency override. Three options appeared: OPEN SHIP DOOR, OPEN OUTER DOOR, RETURN TO CYCLE.” (424)

“Without magnetic boots, she’d have to reach it with bare handholds, but she was close.” (426)

“She plucked the black thumb out of her belt, twisted it to expose the needle, and slammed it into her leg.” (426)

“The airlock indicator on the Chetzemoka’s skin blinked, the emergency response received, the cycle starting.” (426)

“There were handholds on the surface – some where deigned, but others were the protrusions of antennae and cameras.” (427)

“Maneuvering thrusters lit along the warship’s side, an ejection mass of superheated water glowing as it jetted out.” (427)

“And then, Mfume was gone, bolting up the ladder toward the cockpit faster than the lift would have taken him.” (431 - 432)

“Holden tapped in an order for another coffee.” (432)

“Finding Sun-yi and Gor wired into gaming googles shooting the crap out of each other in simulated battles – because as weapons techs with no one to shoot at they were getting antsy – stopped being weird and edged into sort of endearing.” (432)

“The hatch to the cockpit was closed, but Holden could still hear the wailing of the raï that Mfume liked to listen to during his shift in the pilot’s seat.” (433)

“Holden sat on the couch beside Fred’s and leaned in.” (433)

“The first disappointment was that the controls were in lockdown. She tried a few passwords – FreeNavy and Marcoisgreat and Filip – but even if she got it right, there was no reason to expect that they’d left the biometrics profiles turned off.” (448)

“The three EVA suits that remained didn’t have batteries or air bottles. The emergency rations were gone. She expected the toolboxes to be gone from the machine shop, but they’d taken out the racks that held them too, the drawers from the cabinets, the LEDs from the wall lights. The couches were all slit open, gel and padding pooled on the deck beside them. The drug delivery system and reservoirs were gone. The only water was in the drives; ejection mass to be spit out the back of the ship. The only food was the residue in the recyclers that hadn’t been processed back into anything edible. The stink of welding rigs and burning still hang in the air, so the air recycler was probably running unfiltered.” (449)

“The deck shook under her, the vibration of thrust setting up resonances that no system even tried to damp down.” (449)

“There should be a way through the machine shop. All machine shops were supposed to be connected at the back.” (449)

“The EVA suits weren’t powered and didn’t have bottles, but they had seals and reinforcement. She could take the cloth apart, and salvage some lengths of wire. Maybe something solid enough to cut with. And could she use the helmet clamps as a kind of vise grip or clamp?” (450)

“In a real ship, it would all have been protected by conduit. On this piece of crap, the wiring had all been fixed directly to the hall with a layer of yellowed silicone epoxy.” (452)

“Across the space, maybe four meters away, an indicator light went amber, and she was falling sideways. With the extra illumination, she could see the round, tree-thick body of the maneuvering thruster. She put out her arms, catching herself against a steel strut.” (452)

“Three sorties ago -- number forty-four -- she’d thought there might be a diagnostic handset. Not that should could speak into it, but she might have been able to tap out a message. But despite the fact that handsets like that were standard and required, there wasn’t one” (454)

“She scrambled down, moving from strut to strut, watching her hands and feet with every movement so she wouldn’t midjudge.” (455)

“The air in her suit didn’t feel stale or close; the carbon dioxide scrubbers worked well enough on passive that she wouldn’t feel the panic of asphyxiation. She’d just gently pass out and die.” (455)

[gamerwoo]

Wonwoo: Sharing is Caring but I Don’t Care

Anonymous asked: seeing these pictures of wonwoo... he really reminds me of a cat, soo, idk if youre gonna like this request, but can i request a fic with cat hybrid!wonwoo? something fluffy with a little bit of angst maybe? i dont really have a decent prompt, but maybe wonu having a typical cat behaviour until he starts to get jealous about smth?

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader (kinda sorta Mingyu x female reader too)

Genre/warnings: hybrid au, fluff but like angsty fluff

Word count: 5,418

Summary: All cat hybrids are different, but Wonwoo is exactly what you’d expect: reclusive, only wants attention for a limited amount of time, and slightly passive aggressive. You don’t mind, you love Wonwoo all the same. But he suddenly gets a lot more clingy after your best friend asks you to babysit the dog hybrid he’s fostering that seems to take a liking to you.

a/n: the pictures the anon is talking about are these and they ruined my l i f e. and there’s probably gonna be a part 2 because ya girl got carried away with ideas. also also uh i didn’t feel like changing the title from its wip title so i kept it dsjfhkds 

As you moved around the apartment to clean up the place a little, Wonwoo just watched from where he lounged on the couch. He didn’t make any moves to help, but he didn’t seem amused watching you, either. His eyes lazily followed your movements almost like he was judging what you were doing. But you also knew if you weren’t doing it right, he would’ve said something.

Wonwoo wasn’t a bad hybrid. He wasn’t an asshole even though he could kind of be one sometimes. He loved to lay his head in your lap, curl up beside you and let you read to him, and he always slept in bed with you. But he was a cat hybrid, and some of the just happened to be the stereotypical cat-type -- Wonwoo included. So he also liked to be lazy and judge you silently fro the couch.

Wonwoo’s ears suddenly twitched as he lifted his head. He looked toward the door, hearing two pairs of footsteps coming down the hall, along with a male voice excitedly asking questions. He didn’t recognize the voice, so he expected the two people to just carry on passed the apartment, but he fully sat up when he heard a knock at the door.

“Coming!” you called, putting the picture frame you were dusting down and jogging to the door.

“We have visitors?” Wonwoo asked. “You didn’t say anything about visitors.”

“Seungcheol’s fostering a hybrid so I said he could bring them to visit,” you told him over your shoulder, leaving your dusting cloth on the counter as you made your way to the door. When you opened it, you were met with your best friend smiling at you, and a taller boy with floppy brown ears grinning from ear-to-ear behind him. “Hey, Cheol!”

“Thanks for letting me come over at such short notice,” he breathed, holding his arms out for a hug. When he let go, he gestured behind him. “This is Mingyu. Gyu, this is _____.”

“Hi!” he chirped with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! I’ve seen the pictures of you and Seungcheol-hyung all over the house. He said you’ve been best friends since high school.”

You nodded with a chuckle. Mingyu sure liked to talk.

“You know, I have a hybrid, too,” you told him. “Maybe you could be friends.”

“Really?!” Mingyu grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“God, I hope so,” Seungcheol chuckled. He scratched the back of his head, averting his eyes from you. “I was kinda hoping you could babysit Mingyu this weekend, but I know Wonwoo can be...Wonwoo... But Joshua can’t because Mingyu scared Seokminnie, and Jeonghan can’t because Mingyu and Jun are allergic to each other.”

“But I like Junhui...” Mingyu mumbled sadly.

“I know, Gyu,” Seungcheol sighed, “but you sneeze every thirty seconds.”

“Come in, we’ll introduce them,” you said, stepping back to allow the two into your apartment. You turned your head to look into the living room, expecting to see Wonwoo peeking over the back of the couch, but of course, the cat was gone, “if I can find Wonwoo...”

“I can!” Mingyu volunteered.

“Gyu, you’ll scare him,” Seungcheol chuckled, gesturing for the puppy to follow him to the living room and stay put. “Let _____ do it, okay?”

As you went passed the couch to go down the hall, hoping to find Wonwoo in your bedroom or something, you could hear Mingyu going on and on about how he liked the apartment and hoped Wonwoo would want to be his friend. Seungcheol was trying to keep the pup’s hopes from getting too high -- he knew how Wonwoo could be with new people -- but Mingyu just wanted to make some friends. You hoped Wonwoo at least wouldn’t mind having Mingyu around this weekend because you felt bad for the poor hybrid.

“Wonwoo,” you sang as you poked your head into the guest room, the bathroom, and the closet down the hallway before you got to the bedroom. The door was left cracked, so you pushed it open. “Wonwoo, where are you?”

He was sitting on your bed, smack dab in the middle. His tail was wrapped around himself as he sat criss-cross with your Switch in his hands. He merely glanced up at you in disinterest before he looked back at the screen.

“I’m not playing with that dog,” he mumbled, carrying on with his game.

“Come on, Mingyu’s nice,” you reassured him.

“That’s great, but I’m still not playing with him,” he stated.

You let out a huff of air, blowing some hair away from your face as you crossed your arms. You knew if Wonwoo didn’t want to do something, he absolutely wasn’t going to do it. However, you also didn’t want this to interfere with helping out your friend.

“Would you be okay if Mingyu stayed with us for the weekend?” you wondered softly.

He shrugged, “As long as he gives me my space.”

“He’ll sleep in the guest room and I’m sure Seungcheol will send him over with his own toys,” you promised with a nod.

“Go for it,” he sighed. “Just make sure you get rid of the dog smell when he goes home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckled, though you were so happy that Wonwoo agreed. “Thanks, Woo! I owe you a lot of treats.”

“I know,” he deadpanned before you left the room.

You all but skipped back to the living room where Mingyu was walking around slowly as he sniffed just about everything. He noticed you in the doorway and looked at you, his tail wagging just from your presence.

“Wonwoo doesn’t want to come out right now, but he’s cool with Mingyu staying for--”

Mingyu was over to you before you could finish your sentence, his large arms around you as he nuzzled into your hair, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Mingyu, calm down--”

“It’s okay,” you giggled, rubbing Mingyu’s back as you hugged him. “Wonwoo’s never this affectionate.”

Mingyu pulled back a little to look at you with a giggle of his own, “You smell nice!”

“Thanks,” you laughed, reaching up to scratch behind his right ear. “I’ll have fun having you around this weekend.”

“You don’t know what this means to me,” Seungcheol smiled as he stood from the couch. “I love Gyu but he’s having a hard time making friends.”

“We’re friends now!” Mingyu announced happily. “Right, _____? She’s the perfect height and everything! She even likes my hugs, hyung!”

“She does put up with you pretty well,” Seungcheol snorted before he gave you a serious look. “Really, _____, thank you.”

You shrugged, “Don’t thank me. It’s no big deal.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Wonwoo isn’t jealous at all?”

“He doesn’t seem it.”

Seungcheol just nodded with an almost nervous-sounding chuckle, “Wonwoo’s a cat and Mingyu’s a dog. You sure you know what you’re getting into?”

“It’s not that bad, dude,” you reassured him. “Wonwoo’s never been jealous -- not even of Hansol.”

But the reassurance was also half for yourself because you really didn’t know how Wonwoo would react with a dog that was much more excitable than Hansol in the apartment for the weekend. But you were sure it would be okay. ...Right?

-

The whole afternoon was spent with Mingyu climbing all over you -- curling up in your lap (”he thinks he’s a lapdog. he isn’t.”), resting his head on your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck, and asking you to scratch behind his ears. Mingyu was definitely an affectionate pup, that was for sure. But it was cute -- he was cute.

When you went back to your bedroom to get ready for bed, Wonwoo was still in the same spot as before. He even still had the Switch in his hand, glancing up when you entered as the tip of his tail twitched.

“What is that?” he suddenly asked as you opened your drawer.

“What’s what?” you asked, rummaging through your pajamas.

“You smell awful,” he stated blankly.

“Mingyu was all over me,” you laughed fondly, shaking your head at the memory of the happy dog hybrid. “He’s so cute, Woo! He sat in my lap and was super cuddly and sweet! You’re gonna love him!”

His nose scrunched up as he shook his head and turned away from you, laying on his stomach toward the headboard. “Go take a shower.”

“You take a shower,” you shot back even though showering was exactly what you planned on doing.

After you left, Wonwoo was grumbling to himself. Why did you seem to like this stupid dog so much? You had him, what was so great about an overly-excited fleabag? 

Wonwoo had never been jealous over you. Not when Vernon said you give the best treats or when Jihoon seemed to only like you out of all of Soonyoung’s friends. Maybe it was just because Mingyu was a dog but Wonwoo didn’t like that you and him seemed to get along so well.

So when you came back into the room and flopped down into bed to go to sleep, Wonwoo shut off the Switch and got under the covers, laying down right beside you instead of curling up on his side like he did about half the time. Since you were laying on your stomach, he nuzzled under you to your arm would go around him and he could bury his face in your neck.

You chuckled, not used to Wonwoo being so cuddly unless he decided to lay on top of you, “You alright, Woo?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. “You still smell like dog, though.”

“It’ll go away,” you promised with a yawn. “Go to sleep.”

But he frowned because it wouldn’t go away with that mongrel staying at the apartment that weekend. So he nuzzled closer and hoped he could cover you in his own scent to keep Mingyu away.

-

Mingyu was dropped off Saturday morning. Wonwoo was sitting on the back of the couch, one leg curled in a half-criss-cross kind of position while the other was on the seat of the couch to keep him in place. He had a bowl of cereal balanced in one hand and a spoon in the other as he watched his favorite Twitch streamer to wake up. But when he heard the knock at the door, he froze and turned his head sharply around to see who exactly this dog was that you liked so much.

He didn’t like him. As soon as the door opened and he saw the wide grin spread across Mingyu’s face before he tackled you in a hug, he didn’t like him. His upper lip curled as he let out a low growl, getting off the couch and leaving his breakfast on the coffee table to slink over to you and keep that dog away from you.

“Alright, that’s enough, Gyu,” Seungcheol chuckled, prying the excited hybrid off of you. “Thanks again for-- Oh, hey Wonwoo.”

You felt Wonwoo’s arms snake around your waist fro behind, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. Wonwoo had never hugged you like this but you just reached up to pat his head. You didn’t see it but his eyes were narrowed, their target being Mingyu who now stood behind Seungcheol so the boy could keep him at bay.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

“Woo, this is--”

“Mingyu,” he cut you off, holding you tighter, “I know.”

“Hi!” Mingyu waved enthusiastically. “I’ve seen pictures of you all over _____’s living room. You’re really pretty!”

Wonwoo made a face but didn’t say anything. Why was he pretty?

“He is, isn’t he?” you agreed, turning your head to smile at him and stroke his pointed ears.

Alright, so maybe being pretty wasn’t so bad.

It didn’t take long for Seungcheol to get Mingyu settled in. He had a small bag for overnight containing clothes and toys he liked to play with, along with his favorite plush that he slept with, and a few snacks and treats that he liked best. And then he was off for the weekend, leaving you alone with the puppy and your cat that seemed a little...clingier than usual.

You’d never seen Wonwoo like this. The only time he’d ever get cuddly was when you felt sick or had particularly bad cramps, or if he felt really sick. Even then, though, he would just curl up beside you and let you play with his hair. He never really clung to you or seemed almost possessive over you like now.

You sat on the couch, so Wonwoo went with you -- he wanted to finish his breakfast anyway. He sat right beside you, his leg touching yours as he picked his bowl back up and continued eating as usual. Mingyu trailed behind, sniffing everything again now that the scent of cat was more prominent with Wonwoo actually in the room rather than hiding away somewhere.

“Have you ever hung around a cat before, Gyu?” you wondered, turning your head to look at the hybrid that was wandering around with his tail wagging at a slow speed.

He looked over when he heard his name, his brown eyes going wide, “Nope! The shelter said I was too aggressive with their cat hybrids. I got along with Junhui, though! He’s a bunny.”

“I know, I’ve met him,” you chuckled. “So you’re allergic to bunnies?”

‘Why can’t he be allergic to cats so he can’t stay here?’ Wonwoo thought to himself.

Though, he did tell you that Mingyu could stay, but that was before he knew how well you and him got along.

Mingyu walked around the couch and sat down on your other side, resting his head on your shoulder, “Yeah, unfortunately. I liked Jun, too.”

Wonwoo glanced over before doing a double take when he noticed Mingyu’s head on your shoulder. His eyes narrowed as you reached over to run your fingers through his tousled brown hair, making him close his eyes and hum in content.

You suddenly had Wonwoo sitting in your lap, subtly nudging Mingyu away from you. He laid his head back against your shoulder as he continued to eat his breakfast, his eyes on the TV.

“_____, can you play with my hair?” he asked softly.

“Y-yeah...” you mumbled, unsure why Wonwoo was acting like this, “okay.”

As the room filled with Wonwoo’s content purr, Mingyu just curled his knees to his chest and watched the television too. He didn’t seem to mind that Wonwoo had your attention now since he knew you were Wonwoo’s owner and not his, so he just settled for sitting next to you and watching TV for now.

Wonwoo, however, was smirking to himself, thinking he’d won some competition that was only existent in his own head.

-

Wonwoo laid all over you all morning. When he finished his breakfast, he continued to sit in your lap and make you play with his ears while he commentated on the stream he was watching.

Before lunch, you decided Mingyu should get outside for a little since he was getting sort of restless. You could tell when he started trying to bat at Wonwoo’s tail which made the cat hiss and glare at him. You had to scold Wonwoo -- he hardly ever listened to you when you scolded him, though -- and promise Mingyu you’d take him outside to play properly before anything escalated. The last thing you needed was two hybrids fighting.

Wonwoo didn’t like going outside. He liked to stay inside, take naps, read, and play games. But Mingyu? As soon as he was in the yard of the apartment building, he took off running. He threw himself down in the grass and soaked up the sun while you set up a little blanket to sit down under the shade of a tree to keep Wonwoo happy.

“_____,” he grabbed onto your wrist as you went to walk over to Mingyu to toss a frisbee around with him, “sit with me.”

He pulled you down to sit beside him before laying his head on your shoulder, his legs stretching out beside you.

“Are you feeling okay, Woo?” you asked softly.

He nodded before tilting his head up, burying his nose in your neck before sniffing you. You giggled at how it tickled before he was nuzzling into your neck to cover you in his scent rather than the hint of dog that he could smell from Mingyu on you. You laughed louder as his hair tickled your skin, but you weren’t going to stop Wonwoo from doing whatever it was that he was doing. 

“Why do you have to smell like him already?” Wonwoo complained.

You laughed as Wonwoo finally settled into you, choosing to curl up beside you and rest his head on your stomach -- he always said he loved how soft your tummy was and it typically was his favorite place to lay.

“Mingyu never complains about me smelling like you,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, because he should know you’re mi-- M-my owner,” Wonwoo stated. “He doesn’t get to complain about you.”

“And you do?”

“Yes!”

“_____!” Mingyu called over to you, sitting up in the grass with his hair a mess from rolling around. “Can we play catch or something?”

“Yeah, of course!” you grinned, going to push yourself up and grab the brightly colored ball Seungcheol packed to toss back and forth with Mingyu.

Instead, though, you felt a weight in your lap that held you down. Wonwoo had climbed into your lap, letting his legs stretch out beside you in the grass. He wrapped his arms around your waist and laid his head on your shoulder, and you faintly heard a very quiet growl come from him.

“What’re you doing?” you chuckled.

“You can throw the ball from here,” he stated with a short huff.

“Woo, we’re playing catch, not fetch.”

“You have hands to catch.”

You frowned, “Not with you sitting in my lap like this. What if you get hit with the ball?”

Wonwoo smirked, happy that you cared about him not getting hurt, but he also knew he could use that to his advantage, “Then don’t play.”

“Wonwoo, I can’t just ignore Mingyu,” you told him, lightly pushing him off of your lap so you could stand up. You went over to the bag and grabbed the ball before jogging closer to Mingyu. “Coming, Gyu!”

And that left Wonwoo to pout alone in the shade, laying down and curling up as he watched you and Mingyu toss the ball back and forth.

-

“Lunch, then nap time. Mingyu, you need a shower.”

Everyone was fed, and you sent Mingyu to the shower along with clean clothes and the toiletries that were packed for him. You decided to wait for Mingyu to be done, telling Wonwoo he could go play his Switch until you went to go nap, but he refused to leave your side. You wondered if maybe Wonwoo was jealous of Mingyu now, but Wonwoo had never been jealous of anybody else. Why would he be jealous now?

Wonwoo’s head was in your lap, having you play with his hair while he stroked his tail between his fingers. That’s how Mingyu found the two of you on the couch when he came out of the bathroom, his hair still damp and his t-shirt held in his left hand instead of on his body. Judging from the big yawn he let out, you assumed he was tired from all the energy he burned outside.

“Nap?” you asked with a chuckle.

He nodded.

“I’ll get you settled in the guest room,” you said, carefully sitting Wonwoo up before you got up. “C’mon, Woo.”

Wonwoo immediately got up and followed you, grabbing onto one of your hands with both of his as he trailed along. Mingyu followed the both of you, rubbing his eyes as he went. Thankfully, the guest room was at the begging of the short hallway that he’d just come from.

“Here you go,” you opened the door to show off the simple room with the bed already made up. “It’s not much, but it’s just for a night so--”

“I get my own bed?” Mingyu asked excitedly, moving between you and Wonwoo to see inside the room -- making Wonwoo hiss quietly at him before stalking off toward your room. 

“You don’t have your own bed at Seungcheol’s?” you asked.

He shook his head, “No, I like cuddling with him. But I never get to spread out.”

“Now you can,” you laughed, gesturing for him to go into the room.

Mingyu ran into the room and flopped down on the bed. He seemed way more excited than you thought he’d be, but that made you happy. You were actually kind of nervous that Mingyu would find the room too plain or boring. 

Once you had tucked Mingyu in, you told him to wake you up if he needed anything before closing the door and heading to your room. Wonwoo was already laying down on the bed, curled up under the blankets on his side of the bed. You took off your jeans before you got in on your side and got comfortable.

“_____?” Wonwoo’s voice was quiet when he spoke up.

You kept your eyes closed, only humming in response. You were way too tuckered out from Mingyu to actually reply.

“You don’t like Mingyu more than me, do you?” he wondered, his voice smaller than you’d ever heard it.

Your eyes opened, and you rolled over to face Wonwoo. Instead of looking annoyed like he had all day, he looked nervous and afraid. You’d only seen him look at you like that when you first found him. 

“Of course I don’t, Wonwoo,” you frowned, reaching up a hand to play with his ears. “Why would you think that?”

“You liked how affectionate he is... He’s all over you, I hate it! You’re mine, not his!”

Your suspicions were correct -- Wonwoo was very jealous of Mingyu.

“Aw, Woo,” you chuckled, letting your hands trail from his ears to his hair to card through it, “are you jealous?”

“No!” he said defensively with a pout. “I just...don’t...like him...b-being all over you like he owns you.”

“Mingyu’s just excited! He’s a foster so he doesn’t have a lot of friends other than Seungcheol, and he can’t keep Mingyu forever, anyway.”

“That doesn’t mean he can take you.”

“He’s not taking me from you, Wonwoo. I like Mingyu, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. If I didn’t like you how you are, I wouldn’t have taken you in, right?”

Wonwoo cast his eyes down, fidgeting with his tail, “I guess so...”

Wonwoo put an arm around you and nuzzled into your chest, letting out a deep sigh. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as you rested your chin on his head and wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back.

“You’re mine,” he mumbled.

“I know,” you giggled softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Wonwoo’s loud purring was enough to quickly lull you to sleep, but he stayed awake even after your breathing evened out and your soft snores filled his ears. He pulled away just enough to look at your sleeping face, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he nuzzled into your neck and sandwiched one of his legs between yours.

“All mine,” he mumbled before he fell asleep in your arms.

-

“Wonwoo was right,” Mingyu commented after a few minutes of resting his head on your right thigh, “your thighs are comfy.”

“Nobody asked,” Wonwoo scoffed as he kneaded into your left thigh with his hands as he often did -- he always mentioned they were soft and squishy and fun to knead into, “but thanks for telling me I’m right.”

Mingyu tipped his head back to look up at the cat that was flashing him a cocky grin, but he didn’t seem to mind. Honestly, he was just happy Wonwoo was talking to him at all.

Wonwoo wasn’t necessarily getting along with Mingyu, but they weren’t fighting. Bickering was more like it, but it was never ending. You didn’t mind it, either, though. Wonwoo at least wasn’t hiding or just completely ignoring the poor hybrid, so you were just content that Wonwoo was speaking to him at all. He was still definitely being territorial, but at least he had calmed down enough to sort of share you.

“You’re lucky, Wonwoo,” Mingyu sighed. “_____ is perfect. She’s warm and soft, and she’s tall like us so she can keep up.”

“Did you have another owner before, Gyu?” you wondered.

He shook his head, “No, but the girl that took care of me before was really short and tiny. She said she had a hard time controlling me and it made me sad.”

“_____ is the best,” Wonwoo agreed with a nod, though his tone was more on the colder side, “and she’s my owner.”

“I can visit a lot, right?” Mingyu asked, looking up at you with his big, brown eyes.

The question tugged at your heart strings because you knew Mingyu wasn’t staying with Seungcheol forever. In fact, if things went well, Seungcheol would come back and announce that Mingyu had a new owner now that would give him all the love and attention he could ever want. But that meant you wouldn’t see the cute puppy hybrid anymore.

“Sure, Gyu,” you lied with a smile that looked a little sadder than you wanted, your hand running through his fluffy hair.

-

Wonwoo was still awake playing his Switch when the door to the bedroom slowly opened. It was the middle of the night and he had heard Mingyu whining from his room, but he chose to ignore it in favor of playing Pokemon. But now that the tall puppy was standing in the room, rubbing one of his eyes, Wonwoo was forced to deal with him.

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu’s voice was still groggy with just a tinge of sadness in it. “Can I sleep in here?”

“Why?” Wonwoo asked, his voice monotone. He was laying above the blanket, his head resting on your stomach while you slept soundly.

“It’s lonely in the guest room,” the younger hybrid whined. “I need to sleep with somebody.”

Wonwoo wanted to snap at Mingyu and tell him to go back to sleep in the guest room, but he knew you’d be upset with him if you woke up to them bickering.

‘It’s just one night,’ he had to remind himself, ‘He’ll be gone tomorrow morning.’

Wonwoo let out a sigh as he shut off his game and sat up to set it on the nightstand, “Other side.”

As Wonwoo got under the covers, Mingyu closed the door and quickly got into bed on the other side, trying to slip in and lay on what little space was left. Wonwoo was quick to move you closer to himself and roll you over so you were facing him, keeping you close and away from Mingyu on your other side.

“Thank you,” Mingyu whispered once he got comfortable.

“Uh huh,” was all he replied with, nuzzling into your neck and curling up to sleep.

“Goodnight, Wonwoo,” Mingyu said as he curled up in his little space.

“Just go to sleep.”

-

You woke up in a tangle of long limbs, not even really sure which were you own. Wonwoo was in front of you, his head somehow up under your shirt as his hands gripped your hips, kneading into them in his sleep. You felt warmth on your back, too, and loud snores in your ear from who you could only assume was Mingyu. The three of you had your legs tangled together in a mess under the covers, and you were almost sweating from the heat of both hybrids trapped under the blankets.

Instead of waking them, you let them sleep until they woke up. Mingyu was the first to wake up, his nose pressed into the back of your neck. Wonwoo woke up soon after, yawning against your stomach before he was trying to poke his head out of the top of your shirt, unsure of where he was even though it wasn’t the first time he’d done that -- he just really liked warm things.

Next was the task of untangling the three of you. Wonwoo was the only one who seemed displeased with the position. He didn’t like that Mingyu was touching you, but he especially didn’t like that Mingyu was touching him. But you and Mingyu found the whole thing hilarious, especially when Wonwoo fell out of bed with a surprised yelp.

You made the two boys breakfast and sat between them on the couch. Wonwoo curled up with his head in your lap once he was done eating while Mingyu laid his head on your shoulder and giggled every now and then at whatever Wonwoo had put on the TV.

You’d done a lot of thinking since the previous evening. You didn’t like the thought of Mingyu leaving because you actually enjoyed having him around. Sure, him and Wonwoo weren’t exactly a match made in heaven, but the two at least tolerated each other -- more so Wonwoo tolerated Mingyu since Gyu seemed to like the older boy all the same. You enjoyed waking up with both of them, taking care of both of them, and just having an extra person to have around. You were sad to know Mingyu would be leaving in only a few short--

There was a knock at the door, and both hybrids suddenly sat up straight and looked toward the door. Mingyu was on his feet in seconds, tail wagging as he leaped over the couch to go to the door. You followed behind him with Wonwoo trailing cautiously behind even though he assumed it was Seungcheol who was here -- he just knew that it would cause a lot of excitement for Mingyu, and he didn’t want to deal with that commotion.

You opened the door, and sure enough, Mingyu tackled Seungcheol in a big hug, sniffing all over him as he excitedly began to babble about his weekend and how much he missed the older boy.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he?” Seungcheol asked when he’d finally calmed down.

“Not at all,” you told him as Wonwoo slunk off back to the living room to curl up by the space heater. “He was actually really great to have around. I’ll miss him.”

“I’ll visit!” Mingyu promised.

“So...how’d it go?” you asked Seungcheol quietly.

Seungcheol gave you a look that clearly said things didn’t go well. You weren’t sure if the person simply didn’t want Mingyu or if Seungcheol had decided the person wouldn’t be a good fit for him, but it was clear that Mingyu would end up going to a shelter soon instead.

“Seungcheol,” Mingyu frowned, cocking his head to one side, “why do you look so sad? What’s wrong?”

Seungcheol sighed, running both hands through his hair, “Gyu, I have something to tell you... You’re--”

“Staying here,” you blurted.

Mingyu’s eyebrows furrowed, looking between you and Seungcheol -- even Seungcheol looked surprised, “I am?”

“Yeah! I adopted you,” you told him with a warm smile. “You get to stay with me and Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo lifted his head, his ears twitching as he listened to you speak, “He does?”

“I do?!” Mingyu was grinning widely now.

You looked over to Wonwoo with an apologetic smile as Mingyu began to celebrate, “You don’t mind, right, Woo?”

“I guess not...” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“I’m so happy!” Mingyu giggled, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Hope you know what you’re getting into,” Seungcheol teased, though you could tell he was incredibly happy and thankful that you decided to take in the poor pup.

You were pretty sure you knew what you were getting yourself into, and you were sure it wasn’t as bad as Seungcheol thought it would be. You’d already talked to Wonwoo before and reassured him that you’d never love him any less, and that seemed to ease at least a little bit of tension between him and Mingyu. So maybe they’d become close over time.

But when Mingyu got too excited and licked your cheek, Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed as his tail twitched in annoyance.

You definitely had no idea what you were getting into.

[dylanobrienisbatman]

10 FANFIC QUESTION TAG GAME

tagged by @hopskipaway <3 (This was really fun, thanks for tagging me!)

1. what’s your favourite genre to write?

I honestly dont really know anymore. When i started writing fanfic, I stuck mainly just to romantic centric fics for Bellarke, angst fluff and smut sort of all featured to some degree, but only modern and canonverse really. But now that I write for @chopped100challenge, I have really branched out in my writing, and I’ve found that I really enjoy playing in other genres, so who knows anymore. I think now I enjoy challenging myself to write things I wouldn’t have ever thought of when I started writing!

2. do you pull inspiration from real-life, or do you pull things from other books/fanfic?

I never really pull from real life, honestly. There are a few fics where I’ve sat down and pulled directly from a source, like my Timeless fic, my Hunger Games AU, and i’m working on a Viking shield maiden fic that’s inspired by the show Vikings, but generally I try to work with the ideas from the tropes rather than pulling from other places. I love the prompt generator that @thelittlefanpire made up for Chopped, thats a great spot of inspiration for me.

3. do you tend to write one-shots, short stories, or longer things?

Lately most of my work is over 6k, but I generally dont go past 10kish. I like a longer fic, but not super long. I never feel like I can fully work out a story in under 5k anymore, (so that chopped madness fic was hard for me lol) but i also never have ideas that push me too far. My longest fic was my Becho TATBILB fic and that was such an undertaking i’d never do that again lol

4. do you prefer description or dialogue?

DESCRIPTION! omg. My dialogue ALWAYS feels clunky and unnatural, but I love trying to express what characters are feeling or the settings of a story.

5. favourite fanfic/book of all time?

I love layalioness, who has written some AMAZING luna/raven fics and a really great bellarke fic that i’ve read like a million times.

Teenandrainbows manages to write my dream fic everytime she puts ‘pen to paper’ (if you will), and i love everything she writes

thelittlefanpire never fails to impress me with her world building and beautiful descriptions, and incredibly unique and original stories, anything she writes is a treat and joy to read.

The-most-beautiful-broom is an exceptional author. Her writing is entrancing, it pulls you in with its truly intricate and full world building, and her ability to take characters we love and put them into incredibly unique stories is unmatched. I love every word she’s ever written. @the-most-beautiful-broom

As for books, I have recently been reading the His Dark Materials and Book of Dust series, which i LOVE, and I’ve been working on reading The Expanse, which is a great show and an excellent set of Sci-Fi novels. My favourite book it The Great Gatsby, i love Fitzgerald’s writing style, and i’m trying to get into reading the classics more!

6. favorite trope?

I have really enjoyed writing mythical creature fics, it’s a chance to play with the mythologies of those characters in a fun way, and also creature design. I did a siren/mermaid clexa fic once and one of my favourite parts was describing the powers Clarke had and how she looked as a mermaid! I also loved doing the mythical creature coffeeshop AU fic for Chopped 1.0, working with the werewolf mythology. I had a great time deciding how the werewolf pack hierarchy would work, and what that structure would be like for the characters I was writing. Also fun making echo a snowy white wolf, because duh. 

7. are you the kind of person to work on more than one wip?

Not really. I have plans for about 6 WIP’s right now, but I will only write one of them at a time!

8. how long have you been writing for?

My first fic I published was December of 2015, and i’ve written 67 fics since then!

9. do you tend to write more during the morning, afternoon, or evening?

I’m the type of person who writes whenever the inspiration hits. I am usually a sit down, write the whole thing in one go type of writer, unless its a more expansive/complicated story, so if the inspiration hits and i dont sit down to do it it might never get done. Usually that happens in the evening, but i’ve been known to sit down at 9am and bang out a fic before.

10. do you prefer to post your wip chapter by chapter, or do you prefer to wait until your wip is 100% finished before posting?

I never finish chapter fics, and i’ve found i dont like them because, like i said above, if i dont write the whole fic in essentially one sitting, it usually doesnt get done, unless its something that i’m SUPER committed too. Definitely an all in one, 100% done kind of writer.

tagging: @kuklash @justbecauseyoubelievesomething @kinetic-elaboration @kindclaws @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold @teeandsnowflakes and whoever else wants to!!

[breezethegame]

Dev Log #1-ish?

Seeing how I missed like two weeks of mini blog posts, I’m deeming this one an actual “Devlog” (fanfare and such yada yada). I'm just going to call it a Dev Log.

So much has gone on the last few weeks that I’m struggling to piece it all together, so here is an attempt:

Computer Adventures:

So, I don’t haven’t built a dev machine from the ground up for years now, (maybe since college?) and typically just upgrade parts as I see fit (graphics card, ram, processor, etc).

Well, my motherboard has been giving me problems for close to a year now, where it occasionally decides “yeah, don’t really care about your boot device today”, as well as other miscellaneous things that required me to do things like removing the CMOS battery or main drive. I was also running out of upgrade options, so I got a bit fed up and decided it might be time to replace it.

I wasn't going to be cost-effective to get another LGA1150 board and CPU, and I try to build computers with future-proofing in mind. I was also looking to get a smaller case too. I already had a nice GPU (GTX 1070) that I got a couple years ago before cryptocurrency “did the thing” and graphics card's prices got ridiculous, so didn’t have to worry about replacing that.

Ultimately, I decided to do a "completely new" build.

I’ve been building computers for friends and family for many years, so I literally woke up the next day and said, “I’m about to build this thing blind”.

Well, kinda learned the hard way of the hassle of going at it that way (along with committing a couple noobish mistakes)...

Shopping Time!

Lesson 1: Double check store inventory before heading to a store that's 20 miles away

Well, I choose the nearest Fry's Electronics (it was Saturday, and I really wanted to get a machine built the same day). I get there and start looking for all of the cases and motherboards (severally disappointed that they only had one Micro ATX board in stock, something I was looking to get for the more compact build, but not as restrictive as a Mini-ITX, which they had several of). Impatient as ever, I decided I was going to pick it up.

While looking at other things, I hear another customer talking to sales rep, and the rep mentions that they don’t have a certain CPU in stock. After listening even more (I’m noisy, sorry), he mentions that they have NO Intel CPUs in stock. I decided that I had to get in on this convo.

He informs up that as of late, their store may receive like, 10 at a time, and also mentions that their other location doesn’t have any either (both of these locations are 20+ miles away from me in Dallas).

I also find out that they don’t have the specific ram I was looking for either (I ended up getting something a little pricier). He ends up informing me that the Micro Center 10 minutes away from where we were should have some CPUs.

So I end up at the Micro Center and they did have the CPUs, as well as a case that caught my attention. They also had a lot of other nice things too! Kind of wished I would have known to go to Micro Center first, despite it being much farther from home.

Building Time!?

Lesson Two: Get a head-start of figuring out your plan for wire management and how pieces will fit in your new case

I got home and was ready to build. I spent a lot of time trying to get the interior wire management together since it’s a much smaller case than my last one. I ended up spending a couple of hours getting it just right (I don’t intend to go back into this machine once it’s complete since I’m nearly maxing it out spec wise for now), before moving out to everything else.

Getting my old water-cooling radiator in was a bit tough (a very tight squeeze), but after that, adding in the ram, etc was a Breeze.

Hours went by, I installed Windows, software, etc…

I go to shut it down (after having done several restarts for the software installs prior), and it doesn’t want to power off. After 10 minutes of waiting, I manually power it off. Whatever, I’m super tired at this point.

The next day (Last Sunday), I’ve encountered several other smaller issues. Updating the BIOS didn’t help either. Great…

Okay, Building Time For Real

Lesson 3: Kinda make sure things boot up and work before you get too early to clean/tighten things down in your build

After taking the whole thing apart, I ended up swapping out that mobo for another of the same kind (since Frys didn’t have any others), but then ended up ordering different board on Amazon. So waited another day or so and the new board arrived (it’s now Tuesday evening).

I rewired/rebuilt the computer once again, installed the software, etc. I spent most of Wednesday day checking in with the team and catching up with emails and such. Then Thursday as I was beginning to do some work, I noticed that the computer was saying that my Windows wasn’t activated. I go to my Microsoft account to retrieve my key, and the page wouldn’t load to provide me the key and would only show the transaction.

Lesson 4: Make sure to keep your activation key(s) somewhere other than online/digital if you can

It’s super late and the option to speak to someone was obviously closed, but they had a chat option, so I reached someone through there. After back and forth for a while, and him remoting into the machine to check the activation status, he tells me that the key might not be showing up because it was an “upgrade”, so I would need to buy another copy of Windows 10 again.

Lesson 5: Tell "Aaron" from Microsoft no over and over, and don't fall for possibly sketchy things like sales pitches that come out of nowhere

I originally bought Windows Home and upgraded it to Pro on the same day back in 2015, so I told him that and he kept insisting that I buy Windows 10 again. I refused and told him that I wouldn’t and that I’d take care of this in the morning, and he then offered that I could pay a smaller fee to reactivate my Windows 10, but it would be a one time fee of like, $40. (I refused again).

When I go to end the remote session, he then informs me that he “Really wants to help me out” and ends up activating it anyway. (This whole thing seemly suspicious, I ended up recording it). I watched him activate Windows for over 10 minutes through some manual process (it's almost 2am, and I had work in the morning). He eventually finishes and thanks/apologies. Not sure why I even had to go through all that, but whatever...

I ended up spending Friday wrapping up installs and doing a fresh system backup afterward, before moving along with pulling down the Breeze project from source control, and reminding myself of where I left off…

Anyway, long story short, I tried to get a system built in a day, and it ends up taking almost a week!

Okay, but did you get any dev done these last two weeks?

Yeah, somehow!

Health Bar and Health System:

First thing the team and I did was evaluate a few things that are critical, but we’ve been bouncing back and forth on: The Health System

(WIP of a concept we're working on for his health bar)

The reason for this is mostly for game balancing purposes:

Is this a game that focuses on having Breeze (the player) overwhelm his opponents with an array of abilities (think Devil May Cry/Bayonetta, Kingdom Hearts, God of War?)

Or is this a game where Breeze must focus on finding openings to deal damage and avoid an onslaught of danger (think Hollow Knight, Ori, Megaman, pretty much most NES/SNES platformers)

Game design… is hard at times. Sometimes you think something will work well in theory, but when you get down into the specifics, you begin to question how certain things will balance out.

You’d think something like designing a health bar isn’t too trivial, until you realize that the Health bar represents the player’s health, and the player’s health influences the character’s survivability, which is then tied to other factors: what options does the player have to “survive” and what threatens that?

Anyway, not going to get too deep into that because I lack the PhD.

Basically, there was a bit of a rift in the UI design process that led to really evaluating game design items, and I’ve been working towards seeing what Breeze’s options are and how to limit them in areas, or how I can build the world and it’s inhabitants in a way that will make this all work out.

It’s not going to be something that will likely be answered quickly, but nevertheless, that’s Game Design™ sometimes...  

Frame Data:

[Insert Craig of the Creek frame data meme here]

I used to have a really convoluted way of tackling this in which I would have events in the animation that if given an ID, it will look for a set of “Frame Data” and then look for a specific frame and then load that information up.

It would then pass that frame information into the active hitbox and if something is in it, math and physics and stuff would happen.

I didn’t change this up too much, but I did reduce the setup process by allowing you to just drop the FrameData right into the frame of the animation (no more extra array and ID lookup stuff!)

New Particles:

We’ve got new particles! There’s one for jumping/landing/dashing dust, as well as one for wall sliding.

In the last update, I added a feature that generates “points” at the edges of a character’s collider box (as well as other “checks”), so this helped in making sure that the particles are created in the right place. This was especially challenging with the wall sliding particle.

Also, with the wall sliding particle, I needed to implement a way to have a “looping” particle effect, as well as making sure the particle effect follows Breeze as he’s moving down the wall

Developing Sprite Model Sheets

We've got models sheets completed for just about all of the cast members, though, since there's several artists on the project, as well as animators (including I), I wanted to get some sheets together that would work as a base for animators to use, and to eliminate elements that aren't needed in the sprites (minor details that would be seen in promotional art or more detailed art in general), as well as get a proper size for the characters in-game.

Misc. Features

I’ve done various other quality of life code changes to make it easier to do certain things, like creating new attacks, making the screen pause/slow-mo when Breeze changes forms, and updated my Debugging Manager so that I can hide/show certain debug messages.

I’ve also been working on a RoomManager, and writing features to look handle what happens when the player enters a room (like starting a cutscene, showing UI, spawning things, etc)

I’ve also been looking into updating the game’s Music Handler, mostly for how to handle looping a song after it's intro plays, as well as finding ways to add effects to tracks!

Other Breeze things:

I’ve been working on getting shirts done through Teespring, and I would have loved to show off some of the shirts I ordered, but Teespring shipped them using DHL, and somewhere between DHL and USPS, my shirts have been sitting in shipping limbo for 5-6 days, despite being like a city or two away from me… Maybe tomorrow ~

Also, working on a couple of enamel pin designs! Haven’t figured out the maker yet, but designs are coming along nicely!

Quick Test Build Coming

So, a week or two ago, I planned on releasing a quick build for the Drop Tier backers and above. There was a lot of features and such that I wanted to get done... before my computer stuff happened. Our goal was to have one out before the end up March, so....

I’m going to release one anyway. Maybe tomorrow?

I’ll be creating a post for those in the eligible tiers once I’m done compiling/building it! Please keep in mind that this build will be very minimal and exists to test out controls/physics. I wanted to make a strong first impression, but I'll chill on the whole "striving for perfection" thing for now!

Also, I'm on vacation this week, so I'll be cramming on Breeze stuff this whole week to make up for lost time!

[takingcourage]

A Whole New Ballgame

Pairing: Drake x MC

Word Count: 2,150

Summary: Drake experiences his first Major League Baseball game with a very enthusiastic wife at his side.  

Note: Ever since the topic of a sports field came up during the tour of Valtoria, I’ve had this burning need for Drake Walker to attend a baseball game in America. This silly story has been a WIP for more than a year, but I got distracted writing other things and never finished it. Since PB has decided to send the crew to the US again in TRH, it seemed like the perfect time to dust it off and boot it out of my drafts folder. 

This story also fulfills a request that I received for a kiss on the back of the hand. 

“Do I really have to wear the hat, Wittman?” 

His wife assessed him quietly, grey eyes barely visible from under the bill of her own cap. “I’m not going to make you, but it would help make sure that no one recognizes us,” she considered with a shrug. “We want to blend in with the fans here. And dressing up is part of the baseball experience…”

Drake yanked the bright red cap over his hair and considered his appearance in their rearview mirror. The brim of the hat smacked the edge of the sun visor as he turned to get a look at the strands of hair shooting out from underneath the sweatband. “I look like an American.”

“You’re half American…”

“That doesn’t mean I have to dress like one.”

“Here,” she motioned for him to turn toward her. Jena pulled the cap back off his head, smoothing over the hair that fell to his forehead. His eyes closed involuntarily at the feeling of her nails dragging lightly against his scalp. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

Too soon, she tugged the cap forward again before making some final adjustments to brush the hair away from his ears. 

Drake had to admit that she’d done a better job than he had, but he still felt a bit silly brandishing a big white T across the crown of his head. The light in his wife’s eyes made it worthwhile, however. “Let’s go before you find something else for me to put on. I think the jersey and the hat are enough.”

“Drake, I promise you’ll be in good company. There are going to be a ton of people wearing Beltre jerseys. The man just retired after playing since the ‘90s.”

“I suppose it’s better than,” he leaned back in the seat to read her shirt, “better than Odor.”

“It’s pronounced Oh-door.”

“And you chose him because...?”

She colored vibrantly, mumbling, “Because he has a mean right hook.”

Drake gaped at his wife in disbelief. “This from the woman who doesn’t condone violence and nearly lost her mind when I agreed to fight a stuck-up nobleman?”

“Bautista kind of deserved it…” she offered, smiling as she made an exaggerated show of checking her face in the mirror. “And baseball players are always getting into fights. Haven’t you ever heard of bench-clearing brawls?”

“Sure, Wittman. I think you’ve got a thing for men who can throw punches.”

“Nope, just you.” She angled her face up to kiss his stubbled jaw, careful to avoid stabbing him with the end of her hat. “Let’s go, Walker.”

_____

As it happened, Drake felt a lot less ridiculous once they’d made it into the stadium. By the time they’d found their way to their seats and settled in, he was little more than a drop in the ocean of red, white, and blue. 

Jena sat beside him, completely enthralled. It was only the bottom of the first, but Drake found himself wondering if she could keep up this level of concentration for the entire game. He thought back to the other sporting events he’d seen with her, but couldn’t ever remember her being so fully engrossed in what was happening. 

Before the trip, she'd warned him that baseball was her weakness. Drake supposed he’d soon find out just what she’d meant by the expression. 

His eyes flicked to the scoreboard. If the numbers there were any indication, the third man in the Rangers’ lineup was likely to meet the same hitless fate as his the other two. 

Sure enough, the first pitch was a swing and a miss. 

Strike one!

Jena clapped for the pitcher enthusiastically, ponytail bobbing with the force of her movements. “C’mon! Three up, three down. Let’s go!”

Drake shook his head with amusement. “I thought we were supposed to be cheering for Texas?”

Her eyes still on the pitcher, Jena stretched a hand out toward him. “Today, I’m just cheering for good baseball.” 

Squeezing her fingers, he lifted their hands to his lips and kissed just beneath the hinge of her wrist. “Then I hope you get it.” 

Far as he was from understanding her obsession, he couldn’t complain at the opportunity it provided for just the two of them to get away from the ranch. After spending so many hours packed into Liam’s rental car, a full afternoon and evening with just his wife for company felt like a luxury. 

A young boy in the row before theirs teetered, his sudden movement drawing Drake from his thoughts. The child stood on one leg, holding a baseball in one hand while the other was swallowed by a stiff leather glove. He couldn’t be more than four or five years old, tongue between his teeth as he mimicked the stance that was being demonstrated on the field. With expert control, the boy threw his leg forward and swung his arm, hand never releasing its grip on the ball. 

Drake forced his eyes away, but not before his lips had curved into a grin. 

Strike two!

“This certainly isn’t his first game,” Jena observed, having followed her husband’s gaze.

“Heh, I guess not. Looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

“He just needs somebody to catch for him.” Her grey eyes darted from the field to her husband. 

Drake observed the group of people, trying to discern the relationship dynamics. “Doesn’t look like his sister is interested in playing.” Indeed, in the matter of minutes he’d been aware of the family sitting before them, he didn’t think she’d looked up from her book once. 

Strike three!

The inning over, Jena leaned back in the hard plastic seat and gave Drake her full attention. “You’re going to be a great catcher someday.”

His heart stuttered as he took the full meaning of her words. “I can’t wait to teach our kids all of that stuff. Come to think of it, I’ll probably have to teach Bartie those things too. Can’t see Bertrand taking him outside with a ball and glove.” 

Jena’s brow wrinkled in thought. “You never know. I think he’s done better with the whole fatherhood thing than either of us would have expected. He may just surprise us.” 

Drake grunted, feigning interest in watching the mascot dance across home-team’s dugout. It was going to be a long time before the elder Beaumont actually felt like a member of family. 

“But our kids will always have the advantage when it comes to sports, Walker.”

Smirking, he remembered his own childhood. “I used to be a catcher, you know. A long time ago.”

“I know,” she chimed in. From under the shadow of her hat brim, he could see her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smirked back. Her fingers drifted to his leg -- higher than his knee, but not high enough to get them thrown out of the park. “I think that’s why you have such great thighs,” she whispered behind his ear. 

He shivered against her words, incredulous for more than one reason. Quietly clearing his throat, he covered her hand with his own, daring her to keep them there as he spoke. “It’s been almost fifteen years since I’ve played, Wittman. There’s no way that experience has anything to do with the state of my thighs today.” 

“Just take the compliment, Walker.” 

He breathed a heavy sigh and slid both of their hands toward his knee. At this rate, it was going to be an extraordinarily long day. 

_____

Baseball was proving more time consuming than Drake remembered. More than an hour into the game, they still hadn’t come to the end of the third inning, nor had the action on the field been particularly noteworthy. Sucking a deep breath and reaching for his drink, he scanned crowd around them. The boy he’d noticed before had traded his glove and ball for a cup of frozen lemonade. His sister remained just as intent on her novel. 

Drake tried to imagine a much-younger version of his wife coming to games with her grandpa, her mitt poised and hair sticking out in pigtails under her hat. The mental image made him smile. 

More than that, it made him wonder for the thousandth time what it would be like for them to have children of their own. That was the whole purpose of leaving early for this trip, wasn’t it? Somewhat glumly, he tried to work out how much time remained of not only this game, but the one that followed. 

Damn doubleheader... 

Out of nowhere, Jena’s palm made sharp contact with his knee, jolting him from his sundry musings. 

"Ow!” he winced instinctively. 

"Did you see that? Did you see that double play? It was...” she paused for a moment to evaluate the field. “I think it was a 1-3-2-5-3-4...″ 

"It’s a little late for you to be giving me your number, don’t you think?” 

The comment earned him an exasperated sigh. 

"You missed it!" she accused, reading the uncertainty in his eyes. The flecks of silver shone brilliantly, even though her frustration was feigned. “What a way to end an inning.” 

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Wittman?” he inquired, taking advantage of having her undivided attention while the teams switched places. “I thought the whole purpose of coming out here early was to get some peace and quiet. You don’t seem very calm.” 

Jena tapped one long nail to her lip, drawing his eyes to that feature in a way that he knew was calculated to distract him from further critiques. “I will be very calm when we get back to the ranch. I promise.” 

“Still, I bet the press would have a field day if they knew we were spending nine hours watching baseball when we could be ensuring Cordonia’s future.”

She scoffed and straightened in her chair. “Watching baseball is a very effective form of stress relief, which makes this an extremely tactical approach,” she explained, allowing her calf to brush the side of his. 

“It’s not a great strategy if it stresses me in the process,” he argued, ignoring the contact. 

Jena’s lips kinked up in a mischievous smile. “I’ll help you calm down later.” 

_____

By the time the first game had drawn to a close, Drake was running with a theory that this sport had been invented as a form of torture -- especially for men with beautiful, baseball-loving wives. It had been days since they’d had this much time to spend alone together, but the most he’d gotten out of her was a quick series of kisses after the first and only home run. 

During their time in the States, Jena’s freckles had come out in the sun, and his eyes kept drifting over the feature with curiosity. For the better part of the last hour, he’d been fantasizing over the thought of kissing each and every one...

A pair of fingers hooked through the crook of his elbow, gliding softly against the sensitive flesh in the crease. The hairs on Drake’s neck stood tall as he felt his wife’s proximity. 

“We can leave if you want to. I’m not going to make you sit through another game if you’re miserable.” 

Drake recognized the olive branch she’d extended, but he wasn’t about to take away from something she so clearly loved. “I’m not miserable.”

She regarded him dubiously. 

“I mean, it gives me time with you, doesn’t it? And you’re obviously loving every minute of this. I’ve gotta say, Wittman, watching how much you’re getting into this is actually kinda fun.” 

Jena scratched the side of her nose a bit sheepishly. “I can tone it down if it’s too much.”

“Nope. Don’t you dare.” 

Her fingers tightened at his arm, and he covered them with a hand. “I won’t. Though I will try not to smack you again.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

“And I really will make it up to you later,” she purred, the words designed for his ears alone. “But for now,” she told him, voice growing lighter, “I’m going to stretch my legs for a while. I’ll be back in a few minutes. ”

Jena rose and stretched her entire body upward, popping up on her toes before she arched her back into a tantalizing curve. Eyes following her every move, he felt his resolve of just a minute before was quickly slipping away. 

Drake tried to maintain an innocent tone as he asked, "How long before I can take you home?" And get you back in bed? He didn't state the destination, but the sparkle in her eye told him she’d taken the hint. 

"I'm guessing at least another four hours. Get comfy, Walker." 

“Will do. But Wittman?” 

She leaned down toward him, fingertips brushing his knees. 

“Any chance baseball games in Valtoria could have a time limit?” 

[rayriverwriting]

A Ghost’s Colors

| Slight Mentions of Soulmate AU! For Curt's whole life, he saw in color. He thought for sure that Owen was his soulmate, until he died back in the Russian warehouse after slipping on a banana peel. However, his world remained colorful until he shot his former partner in the head. However, it seems that Owen isn't quite ready to move on this time either... | [Chapter One][Next Chapter] (WIP)

Word Count: 1,765

The sound of gunshots and screaming filled the stuffy factory air. Two handsome young men rushed around the large warehouse, with great haste. “Behind you!” One of them shouted, before shooting a shaggy-looking man from behind. “Thank you Owen, for having my back!” An American man shouted back to his partner, who nodded, bringing his hair up to slick back his hair. “No problem love, sometimes you need a bit of help eh?” Owen replied with a suave smile, shooting another henchman in the foot. “Ah shut it, I was too focused on watching your ass.” The other man responded, setting down a briefcase on a nearby desk. “Curt you perv.” Owen snorted, rolling his eyes. Curt snickered, opening up the black object, pulling out a bomb.

“Curt you can’t be serious, another explosion?” The British spy asked, his chest mimicking his rapid breathing. “We don’t have to do this every time love.” The taller spy’s tone was laced with playful teasing. “Of course we do.” The American responded, hooking up some wires. “It’s tradition.” He muttered as he fumbled over the colored cords, thankful he could at least see them. “You old bastard.” Owen teased, walking over, after making sure all the henchmen were dead. “You’ve been too much of a fan of tradition.” He leaned on the desk, watching his partner try to put together the bomb. “Ah shut up I’m only twenty eight.” Owen snickered, watching Curt struggle. “You can’t even put a simple bomb together huh? Let me have at it.” The British man made the American move over, before almost instantly connecting two wires, making a timer show up on a small screen. Curt scoffed rolling his eyes as Owen looked at him smugly. “Just set the timer.” He said curtly, pouting a bit, gaining a laugh from his partner. “Alrighty-o!” The taller man grinned as he started going over the glowing buttons.

“Owen hurry up old boy, we have to beat our last record.” Curt painted, quirking an eyebrow as he fastened his gun back into it’s holster. The tall British man laughed, shaking his head. “You sure do love your games, don’t you Curt?” He winked, pressing a few more buttons on the bomb in front of them. The walls were grimy and rusted over. Owen’s slicked back hair was losing stands, and became messier as he fussed over the glowing buttons. “What are you doing?” Curt asked, walking back to stand behind his partner, trying to see over his shoulder. “Giving us enough time.” Owen muttered back, licking his lower lip as he cautiously glanced up at the blinking red timer. “Arugh we can get out of here in six minutes, our last record was ten.” Curt responded with a playful nudge to Owen’s shoulder, making the taller male sigh. “I just want to be safe, love.” Curt rolled his eyes, and rested his shoulders back. He watched as his partner’s face contort with deep thought, and how his dark brown eyes clouded as he did so. In that moment, Curt felt his heart swell up with a type of joy that made his blood turn warm. He smiled, grateful that he could see the subtle brown of Owen’s eyes. 

“You’re my soulmate.” He said suddenly, making Owen pause. That clouded look in his eyes dissipated, and he looked at his American partner with the corner of his vision. “What?” He turned around, his eyes wide and eyebrows almost touching his hairline.“You heard me.” Curt responded, crossing his arms. “Curt, you can’t be serious.” Owen retorted, doubt dripping from his crisp accent. “There’s no sure-fire way to determine your soulmate, without them dying.” He pressed the green button on the bomb, his eyes becoming distant. “Although, I can’t help but dream, aye?” The British man clicked his tongue, his eyes meeting Curt’s. “Owen you know we are-” Owen silenced him, his fingers brushing against his lips. “We can discuss this on the jet love, for now, we have to beat our record.” He smirked, making Curt copy his expression. “Let’s go.” They ran together, gun in hand, quipping at each other as the exit came into view. They both collapsed onto the dry grass and rolled down the hill as the factory blew. Black smoke filled the night air, orange and red illuminated the lemon-colored field. Curt looked to his side, where Owen watched the destruction with his mocha-colored eyes. The light flickered in his irises, dust marked his skin, his mouth agape as he paused to catch his breath. “Owen Carvour, you impress me every time.” Curt was the first to speak, breathless. Owen laughed, which almost sounded like a snicker. “I beat you by two milliseconds.” He responded smugly, sitting up and punching Curt’s shoulder. “Did not!” The shorter man shouted, laughing as he followed suite. Curt offered his arm, as soon as he stood, to Owen. They smiled at each other, as Owen took his arm and rose to his feet.

 They pulled each other, embracing each other in their arms as they watched the factory burn on. It was rare for them to hug each other, especially in the open. They knew if their governments caught word of the reality of their partnership, it would surely lead to disastrous result. Even in the world of soulmates, homosexuality wasn’t really well understood by the public. Or the world’s governments. “I don’t know what I would do without you Owen.” Curt whispered, his voice almost masked by the roaring flames a couple of yards away. Owen exhaled softly, his breath tickling the hairs on Curt’s neck. “You would become the better spy.” He teased with a wink as they pulled apart. They laughed, their hands refusing to let go. “MEGA!” A voice shouted from the earpiece in the American spy’s ear. “Arugh shit!” He shouted, scrambling into a more confident stature. “Yes Cynthia?” Curt asked, rather smugly. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck it up.” The stern female voice grumbled, Owen watched Curt’s shoulders slump, with the greatest amusement.“Have more faith in me, of course we didn’t.” Curt responded, crossing his arms as he spoke. Owen picked up a few pieces of rubble nearby, still smiling. “Good. The jet will be waiting for you at the airport.” Cynthia respond coldly. “Alright Cynthia, see you back in the states.” Curt took out the earpiece, and watched as Owen observed a large shard of glass. “

Cynthia giving you a hard time love?” THe British sky asked, smiling with a quirked eyebrow. “As if.” Curt scoffed, catching up to Owen. Together, they walked to the airport, the air tense and heavy. “So, soulmate.” Owen said suddenly, wiping his hands on his suit pants. “You were kidding correct?” He asked, his voice breaking slightly. The American spy shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Owen I wouldn’t lie to you.” Curt sighed heavily, watching as Owen tried his hardest to avoid eye contact. “I believe we are indeed, soulmates.” For another moment, they walked in silence. “If we are, how will it work Curt?” Owen asked stiffly, giving his partner the side-eye. “We both know that it can’t work, you and I. In the long run.” Bitterness dripped from his voice, and a hint of pain strained it. “What’s wrong with what we have now?” He asked as a car rattled past. “The little time we have between and during missions?” Curt responded, challenging Owen. “We can figure it out.” He offered, holding his hands out. The British spy eyed Curt’s dirty hands with his dark eyes, regret and pain brimming in them. “Curt, it would end badly. You know this.” His voice broke down, like he was holding something back. Curt sighed, the cold of the night making his breath visible. “I know.” The American finally responded, after a few heartbeats. “At least, we have our time together.” He muttered sadly. Owen leaned over, pressing his warm lips to Curt’s cheek. “Sometimes, we need to know our limits Curt.” He cupped his partner’s cheek, before continuing their walk to the nearby private airstrip. 

A small white plane waited for their arrival, sitting innocently on the concrete road. “We saved the world again huh?” Curt was breathless, as he grabbed Owen’s hand with his own. “Hah, you’re a sucker for tropes aren’t you love?” The taller man responded with a small laugh. “You amuse me Curt Mega.” He squeezed Curt’s hand back. Just for a second, and let go before any invisible eyes could notice. “I guess this is goodbye, for now.” Curt whispered after a second, earning a sad sigh from the man beside him. “I guess so.”They faced each other, Owen’s eyes were wide and clouded with a look that Curt had become familiar with in the past few years. It was a cloud that was full of affection, of love, and of care. It was an expression that made Curt’s heart pang with the same emotions. “Until next time?” Curt offered, with a small smile. 

Owen snorted, parroting his expression. “Curt, you limey cheese ball.” He patted the other man’s arm, grabbing onto it for a split second. A few words were exchanged in that gesture, unspoken, and unheard. A few words that could destroy their lives and career. A few words that would normally be exchanged between lovers. “I love you” Owen would give anything, everything, to be able to say those words to Curt. Always, their words of affection had to be nothing above whispers. Soft verbalizations of their forbidden romance mustn’t be heard by anyone else. Or they would likely lose what they worked for. All of it. It pained them both, every single mission they ended together. For they always feared it to be their last. 

Curt began to walk up the stairs to the jet’s doorway, before pausing at the mouth of the entrance. He turned around, to see Owen standing a good few feet below him, at the foot of the stairs. “Aren’t you coming?” The American asked, gesturing to the door. Owen laughed, rather bitterly. “I wish love, but I’m afraid my boss wants me to ride a separate jet. Right back to London my dear.” Curt frowned, he sighed through his nose as he gripped onto the railing of the stairs. “I guess this really is goodbye, for now.” He waved down at his partner, who returned the action. “Until the next mission.” He bid his farewell, stepping into the jet. Little did they know, but that next mission would lead to tragedy. 

[ask-de-writer]

This WIP is not MLP related at all.  THE FALL OF OAKENFIELD UNIVERSITY is a Prequel to Slave in Pard.

This story is rated YA

THE FALL OF OAKENFIELD UNIVERSITY

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

6101 words so far, work is incomplete

© 2018 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 06/03/17

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Sande was humming happily to herself as she worked to clean Professor Standar's office. She was mulling over his recent lecture on the pervasive nature of the magical field that only unicorns, with their horns, could control.  As she worked, she looked at the big office slateboard.  

She was emptying his trash into a rolling bin.  She added the dust that she had collected from his shelves, books and corners by the use of magic from her horn.  To help her concentrate on the carpet, where her magic was making the dust rise and scooting it into the bin, she actually looked at what Professor Standar had chalked on his board.

A bit excited by what she saw, she took a chalk and went to the empty board.  She wrote neatly, “Professor, I am 3rd year student Sande. I saw your problem because I am working part time as a janitor, and was assigned to clean your office.  

“I believe that the problem that you are working on will reduce more easily as a five function matrix, like so.”

Under that, she chalked his beginning mathemagic and then the steps to convert the unwieldy original expression into a matrix.  Then she proceeded to transform the matrix by clear steps to a solution.

She replaced the chalk in its tray and was turning to go when she found her way blocked by the Professor himself.

Mildly he observed, “I see that you have seen fit to use my chalk board.  What did you think so important that you did not clean it off when you were done?”

He ambled over and began to examine Sande's derivation and solution carefully.  Turning to her he spoke with mock severity, “This solves a problem that I have been working on for three weeks!  That causes me a great difficulty.  I now have to completely rewrite the opening of my latest paper to be presented to the Society.  I have to include you as the one who provided the complete Mathemagical proof of the whole idea!”

He broke into a grin and gave Sande a hug.  Leading Sande by the hand, Professor Standar practically skipped as he lead her away from her work cleaning his office.

As she was pulled along to the next building, her dark brown mane flipping about in the breeze, she panted, “Where are we going?”

Gleefully, Professor Standar replied, “To see Professor Greenleaf!  He and I have been working on this paper for weeks but could not figure out how to derive the matrix from the essential expression!”

As they were entering the cool halls of the Mathemagical Annex, Sande puffed, “I do not think that this is a good idea.  Professor Greenleaf does not like me.”

Professor Standar paused just short of knocking on an office door.  He turned to Sande and asked, “Why would he not like you?”

She bit her lip nervously before replying, “I was sitting in on his Theoretical Mathemagic 620 symposium.  He put up the assumption that only the horn of a unicorn could tap, shape and utilize the overall Magical Field.  I questioned whether other things might be able to tap or alter the Field, since it is easily detected to be stronger near groves of trees, for instance.

“He grew very angry and angrier still, when he found that I was not even enrolled in that upper division class.  After that, he has tried to get me removed from the University several times.  

“He found that I have no Herd Backing nor support.  I pointed out that the Greenswale Herd, that I came from, was merged with the Know Nothing Herd by force.  He got all my scholarships pulled.  I earned enough off of one job last summer to pay for my entire third year, books and lab fees included.

“He got my other work study jobs pulled, except for this janitorial one.  That freed me enough time to entertain at foal parties and play table-top strategic games.  Both pay quite well.  The parties I do for fees and I place bets on the games.”

In a dry voice, Professor Standar asked, “Is that all?  It seems more than a little extreme.”

Quietly Sande replied, “No.  At the Mathemagic 302 mid term, he gave me a separate test from the rest.  Nine problems on deriving and processing matrices and one on reducing raw data from a Metastable Structure experiment.  He gave only three sheets to show my work.

“Without actually grading it, he simply wrote an F on it when I handed it in.  I filed a departmental appeal.  Three witnesses, two of them faculty, saw him do it.

“All that I asked for in the appeal was sufficient sheets to actually show my work in detail while the appeal committee watched and to be fairly graded on what I did.”

Professor Standar, nodded slowly, “I did not know that was you.  I and the whole rest of the faculty heard about it.  You needed fifteen sheets to show your work.  At grading, YOU had to lead the Mathemagic faculty through your methods and reasoning.  They gave you an A+.

“Since Mathemagic 302 only deals with Linear Expressions, both inequalities and equalities, the Appeal Committee removed you from the class with a stipulated A+ grade and pulled you from classwork entirely.  

Professor Greenleaf was furious because the rest of the department gave you a challenge degree in Mathemagic.

“What are you working on now?”

Sande straightened up proudly, “I have been expanding Horimizu's zero sum placeholder expression idea.  It is really quite interesting.”

Just at that moment, the door opened and the red roan unicorn looking out, snapped, “I heard that!  Why are you even here?  You have been forbidden to do janitorial work in the Mathemagic building!”

Professor Standar cut in, “I brought her here because she wrote something on my slate work board that . . .”

Triumphantly, Greenleaf interrupted, “She did?  Excellent!  I will have her cast from the University for this affront to Faculty!”

Professor Standar said mildly, “I said nothing about an affront to Faculty.  In fact, I will give you the same twenty minutes that she had in my office to duplicate what she wrote.  If you cannot, I will have you withdrawn from our Active Metastable Structures paper.  What she wrote took our lab derived expression, which is on your work board too, and derived a matrix, processed it to a specific solution and from it derived a general solution.

“That is what I brought her here to show you.  

“I see that you still are attempting to remove her from the University because she embarrassed you.  Your efforts are a Direct Violation of the University's Primary Code.”

In outrage, Professor Greenleaf demanded, “How can you even say that!  I have devoted my life to the development of Mathemagic!”

Sande stood back to let the Professors squabble it out.

Standar snapped back, “And at the first serious question of the basic assumption that our horns are unique in their ability to tap and manipulate the Magic Field, instead of investigating, as LOVE OF TRUTH would require, YOU tried to silence the questioner!  Some LOVE OF TRUTH!

“That test that you gave to her, as a MIDTERM in Mathemagic 302?  It was rated BY YOUR DEPARTMENT as a graduate level written and oral exam!  She got an A+ and was removed from Mathemagical classes with both a Bachelors and a Master's Degree!

“Last year you conspired to remove her grants and scholarships to force her to leave!  Instead, she did ONE job, over the harvest break and Paid THE FULL BALANCE of her third year in advance.”

Grimly, he demanded, “Twenty minutes, Greenleaf!  The matrix, processing, specific solution, and general expression.  That is all the time that Sande had and she did it!

“Match her work or lose the paper.”

Sande spoke up, concern in her voice, “No, Professor Standar.  That would be a mistake.  Simply because I did this part, does not mean that Professor Greenleaf would not have valuable input.

“In the Library I have read everything that he has published.  Aside from the single error about the unicorn's horn being the sole means of harnessing and utilizing the Magical Field, his work is excellent.”

Sour at having his part in an important academic paper saved by a mare that he detested, Professor Greenleaf invited, “Why don't you come in and show me what she has stumbled onto?

“As for her mad assertion about the magical field being manipulated by anything but the horn of a unicorn, I have never seen any proof of it!”

Sande remarked casually, “After we have dealt with this expression, I will give you a free demonstration of a non horn initiated magical field accumulation.”

Gesturing at an empty slate board, she said, “With your permission?”

Growling under his breath, Professor Greenleaf snarled, “Go ahead!  Show me what we have been missing!”

Nodding, Sande rewrote the basic expression with one more factor and began to reduce it into the matrix.

Greenleaf slapped the chalk from Sande's hand, pronouncing triumphantly, “This is garbage!  The expression that you added works out to ZERO!  It makes no difference!”

Sande gave him a withering glare and snapped, “Didn't the reprimand for PREGRADING my midterm in Mathemagic 302 teach you ANYTHING?

“In the SPECIAL CASE of THIS METASTABLE STATE, it is ZERO ONLY AFTER metastability is achieved.  That is when all the measurements were made.  That's why it was missed.”  She turned back to the board and chose another piece of chalk to finish creating the matrix.

As she was processing the matrix, Professor Greenleaf's keenly watching eyes flew open!  He grabbed a piece of chalk of his own!

Checking against Sande's matrix and her restatement of the original expression, he began to sketch a graph of his own.  It started at zero and rose in an asymptotic curve to positive three, dropped to negative three and rose following a similar curve up to zero, where it repeated itself.

He then wrote out the solution to Sande's matrix and produced the generalized expression.  He put his chalk down before Sande did and pronounced, “I not only beat her time, Standar, I have discovered a repeating function in the magical field that will be worth an entire paper by itself!”

Without pausing her work, Sande pointed to Greenleaf's chalk board and stated, “In ANY mathemagic class, that would be marked as a failure.  

“You failed to show any of your work.  Not the derivation of the graph points, not the matrix processing, nor the three steps from the specific solution to the generalized one.

“Besides, since I did get a departmentally given advanced degree out of your improperly administered and graded Mathemagic 302 midterm, I have the right to submit papers for peer review.  MY paper covering that function and the other five revealed in examining data from other Metastability experiments is already in peer review.  

“If you published that, when a faculty witness saw you lifting it out of my demonstration work, I would be forced to charge you with plagiarism.”

She put down her chalk and turned to Professor Standar and pointed out, “I did say that it would be a mistake to remove him from your paper.  As you can see from what he has done here, as soon as he had a prompt in the correct direction, he is both brilliant and insightful in Mathemagical analysis.

“It is a pity that he has had to be given a formal Board of Deans Order of Non Interference about having any further contact with me academically or financially.  That is why he is being kept from my papers until they are released.”

Reaching across Greenleaf's desk, Sande picked up a sheet of paper and a quill.  Her eyes widened just a little.  She glanced away from the desk top and began to draw a small design near one corner of the paper.

“This part is a trigger for the demonstration that I promised you, Professor Greenleaf.  The rest of the design will be the Accumulator for the Magical Field, with no horn needed to create it or use it.  She finished her drawing, bending the corners of the paper up over the design, Sande tore a small rip through the trigger part.

She sailed the folded paper toward the center of the room.  With a green flash of released magical field, a loud and surprising POP! the paper suddenly burst apart into a fountain of small confetti!  Only tiny fragments of shredded paper drifted to the floor.

While the others were both staring at the surprising result of Sande's demonstration, she snatched two bundles of papers from Geenleaf's desk and put them into her large waist pouch.

She calmly steered Standar out of Greenleaf's office while he was espostulating, “You promised to give me that demonstration!  I must have a sheet with the design on it!  You promised!”

Over her shoulder, Sande retorted, “I promised a demonstration of Magical Field Accumulation without the use of a horn!  Not to show you how it was done!  You got to see it happen!  Now you know that it can happen!  Your axiom about the unicorn's horn is PROVED wrong!”

Outside, Sande dragged Professor Standar to the office of the Dean of Schools of the University.  Inside, she greeted the mare at the desk with, “Hi, Vanara!  Do you have a file copy of the Greenleaf Academic Restriction notice with his signature?  I need it and I need to see the Dean as soon as possible!”  She slapped a short pile of paper on the counter.

Vanara turned to a file cabinet and extracted the document before saying, “What is happening, Sande?  Oh!  I see that you have the printing office galley proofs for your latest paper!  Have you finished the markup yet?”

Grimly, Sande replied, “I did not get them from the printing office.  They were intercepted and being improperly marked up by Professor Greenleaf. Along with the markup, he was writing a rebuttal, part of which claims my expansion of Horimizu's zero sum placeholder expression.  I have it, too.”

Vanara reached across the counter and took the galley proofs to examine.  She held out a hand for the rebuttal paper and examined it.

She signaled one of the waiting student office runners.  

Grim of voice, Vanara instructed, “Get the Printing Office sign out log for . . .” she examined the galley proof and finished, “Junnea fourth, this year.  Bring it directly to the office of Dean of Schools Honner.”

The runner simply repeated, “Galley sign out log for Junnea fourth, Dean Honner's office, yes Mam!”  He left at once.

Vanara left her desk and went to a door down the hallway that her counter blocked access to.  There was a swift but quiet conversation.  Vanara gestured for both of them to come to the office.

As they were seating themselves, Sande noticed the headline of a newspaper hanging over the desk of Dean Honner.  It proclaimed, “Know Nothing Herd Burns Leafhome University!”

She commented to Professor Standar, “See that?  It means that we are the last college or university left between the Southern Sea and the Skywall Mountains.”

Standar replied, “I know.  The Know Nothings tried to use their 'common sense' thinking to guide farming in the nation of South Plains.  It has resulted in a massive crop failure and much spoilage of what was harvested.  Grains of all sorts were especially hard hit.”

Sande whistled softly.  “They were only just recovering from that drought. This crop failure will cause a flood of refugees from that whole area. Where will they go?”

Dean Honner shrugged, “Disaffected unicorn refugees have been making their way through the only known pass in the Skywall for over twenty years, now.  There is supposed to be a rich plain on the other side, called the Green Sea.  I expect that many of them will go there.”

Sande pointed out, “Perhaps not all that many.  If reports are to be believed, that Green Sea colony has been at war for nearly five years with a confederation of tigers and leopards called Pard.  Even if I was hungry, I am not sure that I would want to go to some place where I might get eaten!”

Dean Honner nodded. “I do understand what you are saying, Sande.  Unfortunately, that is not all the story.  The Green Sea colony is also sending several tonnes a month of top quality fodders back through the pass.”

Sande quietly touched her lips before saying, “Suddenly I can see the motivation for starving herds to take that risk.”

Vanara re entered the room and placed a folder on Dean Honner's desk.  As she was leaving, Professor Greenleaf barged into the room, pushing her out of his way!

Ignoring all else, Greenleaf planted both hands on Dean Honner's desk and demanded, “You must dismiss that MARE, Sande, at once!  She entered my office, where she has no right at all, and she STOLE important papers from my desk!”

Professor Standar interrupted Greenleaf's tirade dryly with, “Actually, Professor, that is WHY we are having this meeting with Dean Honner.  It appears that . . .”

Greenleaf rounded on Standar, in the process seeing Sande for the first time.  “What is that MARE doing here?  She stole papers from my desk!  She was not even supposed to be in the Mathemagic Building at all!”

Professor Standar pointed out calmly, “She is filing a formal complaint against you, Professor Greenleaf.  The charges are violation of the University's restriction on contact with Sande or pre-publication access to her papers or other intellectual works or property.

“Speaking of theft, you took the galley proofs of her paper expanding Horimizu's zero sum placeholder expression.  You were re writing it to make it appear to be intellectual garbage while claiming her insights and discovery as your own in a 'rebuttal' paper.”

“I would never stoop so low!  She is a mere mare and a only a third year student, besides!  As such, she has no right to lofty thought!  As a student, she cannot properly publish papers in any case!”

Dean Honner interrupted dryly, “Greenleaf!  The reason that THIS third year student CAN publish papers is those Bachelors and Masters degrees that she won from fair judging of her midterm exam given by YOU, last term.

“The brilliant work on those fifteen pages of Mathemagic that she needed to answer your nine questions, two of which were classical unsolved conjectures, BECAME her first paper, and YOU KNOW IT!  Since then, she has already published two more papers and had the final peer reviews done and galley proofs prepared for her FOURTH paper, the one that you directly stole from the Printing Office.”

Dean Honner flipped open the file that Vanara had given him.  Greenleaf blanched as he recognized the contents of the file.  It was the Printing Office's Sign Out Log for Junea Fourth and under it were several standard Witness to Conflict forms.

Spreading out the incriminating evidence, Dean Honner continued, “Your inability to recognize her obvious intellectual capacity AND your continued efforts to have her removed from the University alone would have caused what I am now forced to do.  Add to those infractions, your direct violation of the Board of Deans order of Non Interference by this outrageous attempt to plagiarize her work and discredit her, force me to enforce the Non Interference Order's penalty clause.

“Professor Greenleaf, your tenure at Oakenfield University is terminated!  One more infraction and you will be removed from the faculty.  Am I clear?”

Dean Honner gave Professor Greenleaf a red sheet of warning.  He added, “After this egregious violation of the University's trust, you may not even publish comments or letters regarding ANY of Sande's work.

“Please leave my office.  If I have to call you back, it will be to sever you from the University.”

The furious Greenleaf slammed the door on his way out.

Dean Honner shook his head at Greenleaf's behavior.  Then his distinguished white furred muzzle broke into a smile and he asked, “Sande, are you going to be at the Horn and Hog for War Game Night tonight?”

She nodded, her horn bobbing happily as she replied, “I am looking forward to it, Sir.  You give me a real challenge.”

Standar looked up at the framed medals and Wide Plains general rank badges on Honner's wall and said skeptically, “How often can you win against a general of Honner's experience?”

It was Honner who suggested, “Why not come and see for yourself?  If I am lucky, I win two out of five games with her.  Sande really keeps me sharp.”

That afternoon, Professor Standar accompanied Sande down the well shaded cobbled road to the village of Oaken Woods.  The many farms surrounding Oaken Woods showed clearly the beneficial effect of being close to the famous University.  The fields and orchards were not only well tended, they were filled with the unique and highly productive strains of fruits and grain provided by the Agricultural School.  To his pleasant surprise, he saw the farmers using metastable structures in the harvesting of hay and grain.

As the muscular field mares swung their scythes to fell the crops, the metastable structures attached to the scythes gathered it into shocks and bound it with strings of twisted grass stalks.  On the farms, even the stallions were working to get the crops into the barns.  They were pulling big farm wagons that were being loaded by stallions using different metastable magic structures attached to the wagons.  Shocks to be loaded were simply placed into the structure, which lifted it and placed it in the wagon.

Pleased at seeing his theoretical work being put to practical uses, Professor Standar mused, “I did not know that the school had released any of my work for general uses.”

Sande nodded as she strode ahead.  Looking back, she replied, “This is an experiment by the Agriculture School and authorized by Dean Honner.  If it is as successful as it appears to be, it will be put into general use next year.  It should earn both the University and you some handsome royalties.”

“I see.  How stable are the structures that they are using?”

Sande grinned as she stated, “They only last about three to four hours.  Re setting them takes around twenty minutes, which gives the workers a welcome break.  At the moment, it looks like your work has improved harvest efficiency by about 20 to 30 percent.”

By then, they had passed into the village proper.  Sande guided them around several turns to a substantial half timbered building with large multi pane windows in front.  The sign out front swinging in the breeze proclaimed it to be THE HORN AND HOG.

Inside, the main room was only lightly crowded but it was filled with the beery scent of fermented locoweed.  The lanterns and iron candle candle sconces cast a reasonable amount of light.  It was late enough that the windows contributed almost none.  There were soot trails up the walls above the wrought iron candle sconces. The floor was flaked bark, comfortable underhoof.

They crossed the room, dodging around tables where many disreputable looking unicorns were busy losing what money they had in assorted card and dice games. A few were winning.  Not many.  Mares in skimpy attire were lacing their way through the press of customers, carrying large trays filled with drinks or dishes of food.

Sande led them to a door and held it open for professor Standar.  The back room was far quieter.  Many unicorns, both mare and stallion, were standing around five tables.  A sixth table was in use.  A large bookshelf next to it had holes where volumes now on the table were being consulted and pages of notes being taken.

Dean Honner looked up with a big smile.  “Sande!  We were waiting for you!  The vote went to the Tomb River Campaign.  We were just setting up the Crane Creek battle to kick things off!  Which side will you take?”

Without hesitation, Sande replied, “South Plains!  We beat them so bad in that one that fighting it from their side will be fun!  What do I have to work with, General?”

Dean Honner commented to Professor Standar, “The kids know that I was a General in this very war, so the whole club calls me General.”

He handed Sande a sheaf of papers.  “Here are your troops and disposition at the start of hostilities.  You will find that we actually copied captured scouting reports for you too.”

Sande nodded, while leafing through the data.  Breaking into a grin, she put four gold coins in a tray beside one of the game tables.  She announced, “Crane Creek table ante is four gold!  Pick your staff General and ante up!”

Coins hit the tray. The General and three others took the Wide Plains Republic side of the table.  Sande took a wand like pointer and reached into the table top which was a complete reproduction of the Crane Creek battlefield and surrounding area projected by controlled magic.  She began to use it to array her forces, which were seriously outnumbered.  As he walked about the table, Professor Standar realized just how subtle its design was.  From each side, all that could be seen of the opposition was what the field command saw from their place in the old battle or wherever they placed command and scouting for this re fighting of it.

He overheard the General muttering to his three subordinates, “Just as I suspected, she is pulling a fast one on us.  I can only see about half of what I saw in real life when I fought this battle!  We need scouts out yesterday!  Move it!”

One of his assistants muttered back, “I am working on it already.  When she said that it would be fun to fight from the South Plains side, I knew that she already had the fix in!”

One muttered, “Found them, I think.  That woods that is supposed to be too boggy to get a force through?  Three scouts looking it over have vanished.”

The General nodded sagely, “Have to wonder how she got them there, if she did.  Probe it in force with a platoon.  See what sort of responses we get.  Hold the main force in position.”

As he watched the action unfolding, Standar realized that this game was like none that he had seen before.  It was not turn based.  Both sides were moving simultaneously.

The next report was, “Sir!  The platoon was driven off by aimed archery and crossbow fire.  The enemy is staying hidden in the forest for now.”

The General gave a satisfied snort.  “Crafty of her.  Leave a force sufficient to deal with the reserves that she put out for us to see and hit the forest hard.  We want to draw her out to better fighting ground if we can.”

As the Wide Plains Republic forces started to strike the boggy forest, Sande's “reserves” began to charge the superior force in front of them. Every copse or thicket that they passed yielded up more disciplined war mares, augmenting the charging army!

They did not simply outnumber the now defending force, they suddenly began a leap frog advance.  The pausing forces taking the time to fire an archery barrage into the defenders before rejoining the advance.

By the time that it came to spear and sword, the defenders were severely reduced and quickly cut to pieces!  Sande's attack then pivoted and charged the main Wide Plains force from the rear!

The General was swearing in admiration as the trap closed on his troops.  They were being forced into the boggy forest and it WAS too swampy for them to hold cohesion as a force.

The Wide Plains Republic had to raise the white flag.

A cheerfully smiling Sande scooped up the table ante and collected a number of side bets as well.

The next battle and the one after that all fell to Sande's skill at warfare.

The golden coins of the Wide Plains Republic antes fell into Sande's purse!  She took not only the table antes, she collected side bets in profusion.

The club members were conferring with the General and had three military histories out on a working table.  Sande looked over their shoulders and exclaimed, “The Hardrock Chasm Stand!  That is one of the best classical battles.  The Wide Plains Republic army was outnumbered over one hundred to one!  In spite of that they held off South Plains for six days, until reinforcements could arrive and drive South Plains back!”

The General looked up from his books and asked skeptically, “I presume that you have had some thoughts on the battle?  Nobody has ever held any simulation where South Plains could get through the Wide Plains Republic position!”

Sande batted her eyelashes at him and retorted, “Finally, a chance for you recover your gold!  I mean, I do have South Plains for the battle.  This battle will wrap up the Tomb River campaign.”

One of the General's staff commented, “Sande has already stood military history up on its horn.  All that I can say is that I think that she must have something nasty up her sleeve!”

Mildly, the General replied, “She always does.  Even when she loses, it is usually a disaster for the winning side.”

He set up his troops in the classical and time tested way, camped just in front of the Hardrock Chasm, with the small river to his left.  Tall cliffs spread out for twenty miles on each side of the chasm, creating a solid barrier to the South Plains army.  

From his camp, the General's forces could strike the South Plains forces in the rear if they tried to bypass the barrier.  If South Plains tried a direct attack, all that the Highland Republic had to do was retreat into the chasm itself and South Plain's greater numbers were nullified.

Sande advanced her forces in the classical way, directly out of the histories.  She encamped by a small woods.  While some troops were cutting firewood, she sent emissaries to request the surrender of the Highland Republic.  That was refused, of course.

That afternoon of battle table time, Sande sent a substantial force against the General's troops.  She had a strong center that forced battle.  From each side, parallel to the cliff faces pincher forces advanced, trying to cut the General's army off from retreating into the Hardrock Chasm.

Just as in history, the ploy failed and the Republic army withdrew into the steep sided and very narrow cleft.

Sande's troops withdrew to their camp, leaving only a few platoons to keep the General bottled up.  They had a leisurely meal and replaced the guarding platoons so that they could eat.  She was keeping her wood cutters busy apparently making firewood to last out the siege.

On the second battle table day of the battle, Sande advanced the results of her woodcutter's labor.  Three catapults.  They fired sacks of smaller stones that burst on hitting!  The rupturing bags scattered a deadly spray of stones from fist sized up to melon sized chunks through the General's middle ranks!  Worse, they then fired at the opening of the chasm, bottling the General's troops, preventing them from escaping the deadly hail of stones, by fleeing deeper in the declivity.  She mopped up the remains of his leading forces and advanced into the defile, foot leading, catapults following.  As swiftly as her advance made contact with the General's now retreating troops, more catapult shots leapfrogged over them to cut a small number off from aid while they they were reduced.  The catapults did not even have to aim much. Hitting a wall of stone simply burst the bag of rocks earlier and blasted them down from above!

Helplessly watching his army dwindle before his eyes, the General quietly reached over to the table ante tray and gallantly handed it over to Sande.  He offered, “Brilliantly done, Sande!”

Sande, eyes sparkling with glee, went through the crowd collecting her side bets!

An unfamiliar figure entered the room and scanned the crowd before homing in on Sande.  He made the mistake of grabbing her shoulder as he declared, “I demand Herd Rights!  You have to mate with me and give me half of that gold you collected tonight!”

Sande rolled in under his grip, striking up along his extended arm, directly into his armpit.  Her strike carried enough force that it lifted him off his hooves and laid him full length on the floor!

Sande hit him with both knees in his gut, driving the wind from him.  Her right hand slapped the bottom of her shoulder bag and came away with a big combat knife!  She held it before his unbelieving eyes so that he could not mistake what it was before she plunged it into his throat!

Conversationally she stated, “If you lie very still, you will live.  If I slash even a little to right or left, you will die.

“You cannot claim herd rights on me.  I am a herdless mare.  My herd was Greenswale. Greenswale was forcably absorbed by the Know Nothing herd who then declared Greenswale to be extinct.  There is no Greenswale herd, so you have no Herd Rights on me.

“If your Stallion Need is great enough that it will not be denied, speak to either Wilton or Lanni behind the bar.  One of their serving mares will sell you an hour or a night, depending on how much you pay.

“You have nothing more to say to me at all.  Speak another word to me and you die. Now, either go away or go to the bar.”

Sande withdrew the knife and backed away from the fallen stallion, maintaining a combat guard with her knife.  He got to his hooves, pressing one hand to the cut in his throat, and bolted for the safety of the night.

Sande turned to the shocked club and shrugged.  “I know that most mares will yield Herd Rights to just about any stallion in Need.  Herd Law is clear, though.  Only Herd Stallions can demand Herd Rights of a mare.  Other Stallions can ask for Herd Rights but no mare not of their herd is obligated to give them.

“My herd was Greeswale.  They were forcibly absorbed by the Know Nothing herd and declared extinct as a herd.  He was a scout from the Know Nothing herd.  I don't like them because of what they did to my herd.  I don't have to mate with them and I WON'T.”

Sande's horn lit up as she used its magic to straighten up the room where the stallion had fallen.  She extended a hand to the General and suggested, “General, we need to end this meeting.  He was scouting for the Know Nothing Herd.  We have to get back to the University and begin preparing our defenses.  

“Oakenfield is the last university or college left.  If we fall, all of Wide Plains Republic will follow South Plains into an intellectual and physical disaster.  We have the last major library.  All of our classical literature and research work is in it.  We are the last place where magic is being studied scientifically.  Our Agricultural School is vital too.

“We have to save as much of it as possible.”

The General gave a sad look around the War Game Club and nodded.  “You are right, Sande.  I had hoped to never have to fight a real battle again.  It is not to be.  Anyone here who is willing to fight to save the University, follow us.  We are going back to the school.”

Sande was pleasantly surprised to find that nearly all of the rough stallions and mares from the Horn and Hog were following.  She could hear much of their muttering, “School might be out of my league but those new higher yield crops sure ain't.  Showed us how to use our magic in a whole new way this year at harvest.  Got the whole crop in days earlier than the old ways.  That school been a godsend to us.”

They were several hundred followers strong by the time that they reached the University.