#those little ragdolls own my heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileysuh · 2 years ago

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Yunhoe : Ateez

🌙 staring. Yunho x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Your phone is so far away- and you’re too cock drunk to think much about donations or the chat room- but you do your best to be as vocal as possible, knowing that moans will make up for the fact that Yunho obviously could care less about good visual shots.

cw/ tw. cam sex, dom/sir yunho, breast worship, gentle slapping, size kink, oral, blow job, fingering, dirty talk, finger sucking, multiple positions/orgasms, jealousy, man handling, unprotected sex, etc... I petnames. (hers) baby, princess. (his). sir.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 5.5k

🍭 aus. cam girl reader, poly idols, idols sharing a fuck buddy, dirty boy idols, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. cam room directory here

“You didn’t tell me there’d be people at the dorms-” you whisper as the largest member of Ateez pulls you into his bedroom and closes the door behind you.

“It’s just Mingi- and as you saw, he had headphones on- he’s not gonna interrupt us,” Yunho assures you.

“Really? You’re sure of that?” You raise an eye brow at him. “So when he gets a cam room notification, and opens it to see us fucking- Mingi’s going to just … go back to gaming?”

Yunho grins. “I didn’t think of that,” he admits. “But I guess that’s why there’s a lock on my door.”

You shake your head at him- laughing at the situation. “You idols and your relaxed morals around threesomes-”

“I mean, if it’s gonna be with anyone, might as well be Mingi- and hey! I told you, the door’s locked.” Yunho’s eyes drag up and down your figure. “I will admit- your last cam show with those two members of Seventeen was pretty hot, but I want you all to myself now.”

“You do, do you?”

You find yourself grinning as the idol approaches you, hands grabbing your waist to tug you to his chest.

“Uh huh.” His gaze shifts to your lips then back up to your eyes. “We’ve known each other a while- not just us, but you and all of Ateez. I remember the first time Seonghwa and Hongjoong told me you’d sent them a link to your cam show- Hongjoong had been certain he’d be the first of us to get a shot at you. But then you went on cam girl hiatus, and we worked with you on Legendary Kingdom and- I don’t know… I guess I had to have you… but that cam room you did last week definitely pushed me to make a move.”

“Wow Yunho, I didn’t know I’d been on your mind for so long,” you breathe, seeing him in a new light.

“Don’t be humble, gorgeous,” Yunho laughs, gently grabbing your jaw and swiping his thumb across your lower lip, “Everyone knows our little cam baby is a heart breaker.”

“Planning on getting your heart broken, are you?”

He grins, then his thumb moves down so he can grip your neck, causing you to gasp. Yunho leans in, lips brushing by your ear, when he says, “I think I plan on breaking you. But only in ways you’ll love, I promise.”

You groan at how turned on you already are- nodding in his grasp.

Yunho kisses you a moment later, releasing your neck in favour of grabbing your hips, tugging until your body is flush to his own. His tongue invades your mouth, gliding past yours and making you moan louder-

His hands slip down to your ass, and Yunho lifts you off the ground, forcing your legs around his waist. Instead of taking you to the bed, he presses you against the wall, pinning you right where he wants you while his lips move to your neck.

It feels so good to be manhandled like this- your breath knocked out of you, body easily tossed around like a ragdoll-

It feels like giving up control, and if there’s one thing you’ve needed today, it’s to let someone else be in charge.

Yunho’s given you good vibes for as long as you’ve known him, and it feels amazing to be here with him-

With you pinned between his large form and the wall, your legs wrapped securely around his waist, Yunho is able to carry you with one hand, the other goes for your tshirt.

“Off,” Yunho says against your throat, pulling away just long enough to help you tear the fabric from your form and throw it across the room.

“Yunho-” you laugh, enjoying his energy, but remembering the task at hand; “I should start a cam room-”

“Right-” his lips are on your throat again, and he doesn’t seem too intent to stop, but he allows you to manuver yourself to pull your phone from your back pocket. You adjust your grip on Yunho’s broad shoulders, a little wobbly while you begin to look for the right app.

“Yunho-” you groan, laughing again when he rolls his hips, pressing the front of his jeans against your core.

“Is the cam room open?”

“Yeah, in one sec-” you hear Yunho’s own cell ding, signifying a notification for your cam show.

“Phone?” Yunho asks, pulling away from your neck and holding out a hand expectantly.

You don’t even think twice, placing the device in his large palm. He tosses it over his shoulder and it lands on the bed.

“They can wait,” he tells you, lips returning to your own and cutting off any bratty response you’d had bubbling inside of you.

Yunho ruts his hips again, and you moan loudly at the feeling- your panties are already sticking to your core, and if Yunho doesn’t continue stripping you soon, you might just cry-

In fact, if his own shirt doesn’t come off soon you’ll probably cry-

All it takes is balling your hands in the fabric for Yunho to pull away from you and tear it off, revealing his strong torso to your greedy fingers. You immediately begin to trace the muscular lines of his shoulders, and Yunho groans when he kisses you, pressing you tighter against the wall-

“Yunho-” you moan, already used to the feeling of his name on your lips-

“Call me sir, or daddy-” he responds, mouth returning to your neck while you tangle your hands in his dark hair.

“Fuck, never saw you as the kind of guy with a sir kink-” you admit, swallowing thickly.

Although you’ve often had a preference for ‘daddy,’ you’d learned the hard way to only bestow it upon men that you truly want to baby you, and as much as you like Yunho, you’d like to be fucked by him, not treated like his little princess.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Yunho tells you. “How my tongue feels, how big my cock is, how well it’s going to stretch out that tight fucking pussy of yours-”

“Sir-” you groan, panties getting wetter by the second.

“I guess we can start now,” Yunho concedes, pulling you away from the wall to toss you onto his bed next to your phone. “Do you need to check who’s in the room so far?”

“Okay-” you nod, “yeah-”

When you pick up your phone, the camera naturally swings to reveal who you’re with, and you get to watch the chat explode.

Unlike during your last show, nct isn’t at a concert, so the room is full of Seventeen and nct members.

HeyChannie: first you cheat on us with svt and now ateez-

Tigerprince: I thought I was next > : (

KingArthurMin: yeah

KingArthurMin: I thought Hoshi was next

Hannie: kkkkkkkkkkk

Thegentleman: my money was on cheol actually

Gi: O.O uh

Joongie: i thought yunho was at home with you gi

Gi: he is….

Darkhwa: 👀

“Mingi’s in the chat,” you tell Yunho, lifting your hips to allow him to pull your pants off.

“Tell him we say hi,” Yunho responds, tongue swiping out to wet his lower lip as he looks down at you. “And give me the phone.”

You relinquish the device for the second time, blinking up at Yunho as he uses he camera to take a full body shot of you.

“Nice set, baby- do you always wear nice sets when you know you’re going to get fucked?”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, trying to hide a smile that threatens to work its way onto your face. You’re enjoying the shift in his tone, the dominant way he’s addressing you.

“Are you going to take your bra off for us? I think I can speak for everyone when I say I’ve been missing your pretty tits all week.”

The way Yunho’s eyes scan your phone make you think he’s reading the chat, and the sound of donation coins indicates that he is most definitely speaking for everyone.

“Damn baby, these guys drop big money just for you to take your bra off,” Yunho says, gaze lifting to watch you. “You’ll be good and remove it, yeah?”

“Of course, sir, if it’s what you and the chat want-” You arch your back, slipping your hands under yourself to undo the clasp.

You take your time with the straps, looking up at Yunho and the camera in an almost bashful manner as you slowly reveal your upper half.

“There you are,” Yunho breathes, reaching a large hand down to cup your breast.

“Am I pretty enough for you today?” you tease, but your words make Yunho’s eyes lift from your breasts to look at you.

“Always,” he assures you quickly. He holds your gaze for a second or two before it returns to your tits, and his thumb brushes by your nipple, making you groan and writhe against the sheets.

“Sir-”

“Yes, baby?” Yunho asks. “Gonna beg for it already?”

“Uh huh, I’m so wet-” You feel your skin flush as Yunho brings the camera down to your panty clad core, and you have no doubt that there’s an arousal spot showing through the thin material.

“You are,” he agrees, free hand reaching down so he can press his thumb to your clit, massaging the wet fabric against your entrance. A small groan escapes you, and Yunho smiles. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes, sir-” you can hardly take your eyes off his muscular torso, and you’re already imagining how big his cock must be- how big it’s going to feel inside of you-

“Can I take these off of you, baby?” Yunho asks, fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, please, sir-”

He tears the fabric down your legs, and you’re left completely bare.

“I know I said I wanted to see those pretty tits of yours, but I’ve been thinking about your pussy for a while too, baby. It’s even prettier than your tits.”

His words make a rush of embarrassment flood through you, and you go to close your legs, only to have them forced open.

“Take the compliment,” he tells you, and you laugh a little at the way in which Yunho does praise.

You’re still not fully used to him, but something tells you that by the end of the night, you will be.

“Thank you, sir-” you say, “I’m glad you like my pretty pussy- it’s ready just for you.”

Yunho’s eyes lift from your core and he cocks a brow at you, grinning. “Yeah? What do you want me to do first, baby?”

“You could-” you swallow thickly, skin tingling from the way he’s making you be verbal for him. “You could kiss it a little, I guess-”

Yunho lets out a small laugh, and a moment later, he’s gently smacking the inside of your thigh. The contact is enough to make you yelp, a small sting jittering up leg and going straight to your core. Your pussy is practicly throbbing with interest, and your heart is speeding in your rib cage.

“When did you get so shy?” Yunho teases you. “I guess you’re too used to guys begging to eat you out huh? Haven’t had to ask for it in a while, have you, pretty girl?”

“No-” you admit, mind going back to Mingyu, who had literally dragged your pussy to his mouth, “I haven’t had to ask in a while.”

Another smack to the inside of your thigh has you letting out a high pitched squeal, reaching down to push at Yunho and his broad shoulders.

“That’s for not calling me sir,” he tells you, pointing your phone up at your face to capture your shocked expression.

Yunho’s grinning now, and you realize he’s the kind of guy who’s not truly aware of his own strength- your thigh is stinging slightly from the contact, but you can tell he’d meant it in a more playful way.

“Sorry sir,” you apologize quickly. “I guess- seeing as I havent had to do it in a while, do you want me to beg for your tongue?”

Yunho’s eyes darken, and he nods behind the camera.

The sound of coins is on low volume today, but cam room donations spur you on as you begin to speak. “Please- sir, I’m already so needy- didn’t expect to have my inner thighs slapped, and it felt so good- I need something- I want your cock later, but I know you’re gonna be so big- gonna stretch me out so well- I need your tongue first, please, sir-”

The idol between your legs looks hungrier and hungrier as you beg for him, and finally, he snaps. Yunho tosses your phone onto the bed next to you, grabbing your hips to pull you to his mouth. His hands slip to the backs of your thighs, and he presses your legs up closer to your chest, curling your body in half and making it easier for the tongue that slips into your wet hole-

A moan escapes you as you reach down to thread your fingers in Yunho’s dark curls. You don’t even care that the camroom is left to stare at the ceiling again- the sounds that are tumbling out of you already are enough to let the men watching know that you’re being perfectly eaten out.

“Fuck- sir-” you throw your head back, eyes closing as Yunho sucks his lips around your clit.

Every idol you fuck has their own pace, their own intensity when they’re eating your pussy- every single man that’s gone for your pussy like this has known what they’re doing, each in their own way.

Yunho’s good with his tongue, and he’s definitely not shy about using it. You can feel his tasting your walls, groaning against your core and rubbing his nose to your clit-

Then there’s the way he applies pressure to the back of your thighs, keeping you pretzeled and at his mercy-

You can’t find it in yourself to verbalize praise for Yunho, and something tells you he prefers your moans and whines anyways. The pitchier you are, the harder he goes on you-

It must be obvious that you’re close to cumming, because Yunho’s mouth goes to your clit again and he lets go of one of your legs, a finger sliding into your entrance-

You adjust your thigh over Yunho’s shoulder and he adds a second digit, stretching you out while his tongue flicks at your most sensitive spot-

“Shit- sir- I’m gonna-” you can’t even finish your sentence, inhaling a sharp breath as your first orgasm is torn out of you with shocking precision.

You buck your hips towards his face, clit throbbing at the way he continues to suck on it- but the hand on your lower abdomen pins you to the bed, forcing you back down.

A strangled moan slips out of you and you grab the bedsheets, one last attempt to ground yourself while Yunho’s tongue and fingers guide you to cloud nine.

“So good-” you whimper, on the verge of tears already, “so so good, sir- oh my god-”

You can feel him smile against your pussy, and a moment later he’s letting up on your clit, fingers pumping into you slowly while he looks up at you. “Almost ready for me to fuck you, baby?”

“Uh huh-” you swallow thickly, “yes, please, sir.”

“How are your legs feeling?” Yunho asks, turning his head to press a kiss against your inner thigh.

“Good… why?”

“Cuz you’re gonna be riding me.”

“I am?” You blink at him, watching him pull away from between your legs to stand at the foot of the bed.

“Of course,” Yunho grins, taking out a small light ring and tripod that every idol you fuck just seems to have on hand- “it’s another thing you inspired me with during your last show.”

Your leg muscles are burning just thinking about it.

“I thought you said you were going to break me- how can you break me if I’m on top?”

“You’re cute, baby,” Yunho shakes his head at you while setting your phone in place. “When you get close, I’ll flip you onto your back and take over- Mingyu did the best he could under you while you sucked his friend off- but… I think I could do better- since it’s just the two of us.”

The man who you’d once thought of as the boy next door type comes to join you on the bed, sitting propped up against the headboard.

You take a moment to appreciate his physique before getting onto your knees and crawling towards him, reaching out a hand to help him with his belt and pants.

“You gonna be good and suck me off too, baby?” Yunho cocks a brow at you.

“Yes, sir,” you nod, licking your lips, “something tells me you’re really big- and I’m not usually a fan of lube so-”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” Yunho tilts his head to the side while assessing you, “you’re usually wet enough, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“Usually wet enough for guys with normal dicks, but like I said, sir,” you trail your finger over the bulge in his denim pants, “I suspect you’re big.”

“Open your present and find out,” he shrugs, almost nonchalantly, and it only makes you even more eager to get your mouth around his cock.

You’re aware of the way your phone is set up, at the foot of the bed, and you can imagine that the camroom has a great view of your ass and pussy as you lean over Yunho’s crotch. You arch your back, shaking your bum just enough to tease anyone watching.

Yunho lets out a small laugh at your behaviour, lifting his hips to allow you to pull his pants and briefs down in one rough tug. His hard cock slaps up against his lower abdomen- it’s as big and pretty as the rest of him.

“Fuck, I’m not going to be able to fit this anywhere, sir, least of all my mouth-” you tell him, wrapping your hand around the base of his length.

“You’ll do alright,” he assures you, pushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face. “Don’t have to suck it for long- besides, I can already see you drooling, baby.”

You are- it would be hard not to salivate at the sight of Yunho’s dick-

“Come on, my pretty little cock whore cam baby,” the idol encourages you, “it’s not gonna suck itself.”

With a small shake of your head, you lick a stripe from base to tip, and Yunho shivers beneath you as your tongue glides over the head of his cock. He’s sensitive there, and you don’t mind focusing your attention on his pretty mushroom tip- for a short while at least.

Yunho lets out a groan, large hand gently applying pressure to the back of your head, urging you to take more of him-

No matter how many dicks you suck in your life, you don’t think you’ll ever truly be used to having your mouth full in this way-

But you do your best, closing your eyes and breathing through your nose while you work Yunho over with your tongue.

“You are good at this-” Yunho tells you, voice breathy, “I don’t know why I thought the other guys might be exaggerating- but they’re really not.”

This makes you even more eager to show Yunho all you can do with your mouth, and you suck on him even harder, hollowing out your cheeks-

Yunho gasps, grip tightening in your hair, pulling you off of him. “That’s enough of that,” he tells you, assessing your puffy lips and the trail of saliva still connecting you to his cock. “Gonna ride me now, right, baby?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, “yes, sir, gonna ride you so well-”

You go to latch onto his shoulders and Yunho’s hands find your hips, lifting you into position- he allows you to be the one who reaches between your bodies, grabbing his cock and adjusting it so you can slowly sink down-

“Fuck- sir, you’re so big-” you whimper, bouncing a little so you can take him easier.

“Told you I was going to stretch out this tight little pussy, didn’t I, baby?” Yunho’s head is dipped, his gaze focused on the way you’re still trying to sit completely on his cock-

One of his hands reaches up to grasp your breast, massaging you and tweaking your nipple with his thumb.

“Come on, baby, you can take it-” he encourages you, biting his lip between his teeth while his eyes scan your body. “You’re our little cam baby, right?”

“Yes-”

“So that means you can take anything,” Yunho says, leaning in so his breath can fan across your chest. “Take it, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “take my cock.”

“I’m trying- you’re so-” you groan in frustration, bobbing on his cock to take the last two inches- “fuck- so deep- sir-” you dig your nails into his shoulders, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.

“Just wait till I start fucking you, baby, that’s gonna be deep.” His hand slides down from your hip to grab at your ass. “Come on, ride it.”

You adjust your anchor on his shoulders, thighs already shaking as you lift your body only to sink back down on his cock. The gentle sound of skin slapping skin is something you do your best to focus on as you find a slow rhythm.

You’re nearly lost in the feeling of Yunho, of being split open on him with each movement-

But it feels so good- has anything ever felt this good?

Then the man beneath you is leaning in, wrapping his lips around your nipple- your hands go to his hair, threading through the dark locks as more moans slip out of you.

As you bounce up and down on him, rhythm increasing with help from the two large hands on your hips, you almost forget that you’re doing a cam show.

Your phone is so far away- and you’re too cock drunk to think much about donations or the chat room- but you do your best to be as vocal as possible, knowing that moans will make up for the fact that Yunho obviously could care less about good visual shots.

The idol’s teeth drag over your nipple, and then he’s pulling away from your chest to look up at you, cheeks a pretty pinkish colour. “You’re perfect,” Yunho tells you, voice low enough that the camera won’t hear him.

“Thank you, sir-”

“Enough with sir,” he cuts you off, planting one hand on the bed so he can roll his hips up to meet yours, “it’s Yunho now, call me Yunho, I want everyone to know who’s fucking you like this.”

“Fuck, Yunho-” you whine loudly, tugging gently on his curls to pull his lips to yours.

It’s an eager kiss, a clash of tongues and teeth- your nails drag by his strong shoulders, and he stifles your moans of pleasure as he continues to fuck up into you.

“You close?” he asks, gently biting at your lower lip.

“Uh huh-”

“Your thighs are shaking, baby- should I take over?”

“Please-”

Yunho’s abdominal muscles tense as he sits up fully, and two hands brace under your ass- in a quick motion, you’re thrown onto your back at the foot of the bed, head nearly lolling off the side of the mattress-

“There we go,” Yunho says as he slots between your thighs in missionary position, his mouth coming close to your ear when he whispers, “now all your other boy toys can watch you get properly fucked.”

The camera is in the perfect spot, and when Yunho’s large hand wraps around your throat, he forces you to hang your head off the side of the bed, your back arching-

Your camroom will have a great view of you and your tits bouncing as Yunho takes lead, thrusting into you at an angle that has his cock practically rearanging your insides-

“Fuck- Yunho-” you gasp, hardly able to speak with the pressure still on your throat from his hand, “so deep-”

“Your close, right, baby?” He gently bites at your earlobe. “Why don’t you rub that pretty clit for me and cum?”

“What about you?” you ask, hand already slipping between your bodies to seak out your sensitive nub.

“I’m not done with you just yet-” Yunho chuckles, releasing your throat in favour of pressing kisses along your neck. “Just trust me- and be a good little cam baby who cums all over big dick.”

“I can do that-” you nod, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your tight hole-

“Squeezing me so good, baby,” Yunho groans against your throat, fucking into you even harder.

“Don’t stop-” you whine, hands smoothing over his strong shoulders, nails teasing skin.

“I’ve got you,” Yunho promises, pace unfaltering.

“Fuck, Yunho-” each slap of his hips against yours has you closer and closer-

“That’s it, come on-” he cups your face, thumb gliding past your lips-

It’s the perfect thing to suck on, the perfect thing to be the cherry on top that throws you over the edge.

You gasp around his digit, pussy clamping down on his cock while your own fingers rub at your clit, sending jitters of electric pleasure energy coursing through your entire body.

“There you go-” Yunho groans in your ear, fucking you through your orgasm.

He’s so big, pinning you down to the bed as easily as ever-

All you can do is claw at his back and wrap your legs tighter around his waist while he helps you ride it out-

You wish he was cumming with you, your body already tired from two orgasms, but you suppose a guy with a big dick like Yunho might need a little longer to get there-

The sounds he’s making in your ear tell you he’s close too, and you find yourself threading your fingers through his hair again. “Yunho-” you moan, “want you to cum too-”

“You done baby?”

“Yes- but I want you to cum-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Yunho’s pulling out of you and manhandling you again. This time, you find yourself on all fours, ass up-

You think he’s going to fuck you doggy, but then he pulls you onto your knees, pinning you to his chest with an arm like a safety bar across your front, large hand cupping your breast.

“Here-” Yunho fumbles with something in the back pocket of the jeans that are still haphazardly pushed down his legs. He hands you his phone. “Open your camroom and read some comments.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he insists, kissing your neck and gently nipping at your skin. His thrusts, however, are anything but gentle, as he begins rutting into you from behind. “Read.”

Joongie: this guy is crazy

Darkhwa: you say that as if it’s not OUR yunho

Joongie: that’s not our yunho

Gi: yeah he’s sir

Mountain: you’ve called him that a lot, huh gi?

Wooyoungthug: kkkkkkkkkkk

Gi: shut up san

Wooyoungthug: nice comeback

“It’s-” you begin to try to talk, but cut yourself off with a moan- Yunho feels so good like this- “it’s mostly your own members-”

“Yeah?” Yunho’s breath fans over the nape of your neck, and you feel him over your shoulder.

“San, Wooyoung and Gi are fighting-”

“Of course they are,” the man behind you sighs.

“Now Gi’s asking to come join-”

Yunho’s response is a quick “No,” and he tightens his grip on you. He brings his lips to your ear again, speaking low so only you can hear; “What about your beloved Seventeen and NCT? They’re not in the room?”

“They are-” you swallow thickly, scanning the comments.

Doie has donated $300

Tigerprince has donated $100

Doie: come on hoshi. Pay up

PuppyBoyWoo: yeah hoshi pay up

PuppyBoyWoo has donated $300

Tigerprince: settle down PUPPY

Tigerprince: rawr

Tigerprince has donated $200

“They’re bickering- as usual,” you say.

“No steady dom in the room to tell them to behave?” Yunho grins against your throat, one hand moving so his fingers can rub your clit-

“Fuck- Doie-” your breath catches, “Doyoung’s trying to keep things in line-”

“He’s not the dom I was thinking of,” the man behind you scoffs. He’s quiet when he speaks, another line meant for your ears only; “Joong and Hwa said you have a thing for Johnny keeping the peace- isn’t your favourite dom in chat?”

“I-” your heart flutters as you realize NiceGuyJohnny isn’t a name you’ve seen so far-

NiceGuyJohnny has donated $1000

“He’s in the room,” you confirm, shocked when something like relief floods over you.

“And you just love that, don’t you, baby?” Yunho whispers in your ear, chuckling. “Your pussy’s squeezing me so good now- tell me, is it from my fingers on your clit?” he rubs you harder, “or from John.”

“It’s from you-” you tell him, closing your eyes and leaning back against his shoulder. “Please- Yunho- I just wanna cum-”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh- so badly,” you whimper.

“Fine.” The arm that’s been braced across your chest is suddenly gone, and Yunho pushes you down into doggy again, his phone discarded on the mattress next to your hand. “I guess if you beg for it- we can cum.”

“Oh my god, yes!” you moan at the new position, his cock sliding into you incredibly deep- “please, please, please-”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Yunho’s fingers dig into your hips as he fucks you stupid.

“Please make me cum, please-” you’re so close- reaching a hand between your thighs to rub your clit- “Cum with me- want it so bad-”

“Fuck,” Yunho groans, “almost there, baby, almost there.”

You’re not sure how Yunho has the energy to do it, but he picks up his pace, and you claw at the sheets with one hand, your sounds getting even louder as you hold off your orgasm for the perfect moment-

“That’s it- feels so fucking good, baby-” his thrusts falter momentarily- “cum with me- fuck, cum with me, princess-”

You’re his perfect little cam baby cock whore princess, and you do exactly as he said, exploding for the third time since arriving in Yunho’s room.

It’s all consuming, the type of orgasm that makes you burry your head in the sheets and want to scream, your toes curling as sensitivity courses through you-

Yunho’s groaning behind you, rutting deep into your core even as you’re both overwhelmed with your orgasms-

His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts-

“Fuck- Yunho-”

His pace starts to slow, and you hear him let out something between a moan and a sigh. He’s still burried in your pussy, but he lets go of you, and for a moment you both simply catch your breath.

“You okay?” Yunho asks, hands returning to smooth up and down your back, a finger tracing your spine.

“Uh huh,” you swallow thickly, still not ready to speak.

“Need a minute?”

“Uh huh.”

You both laugh a little, and you listen while Yunho takes another deep breath.

“Cam’s still on, so don’t say anything you don’t want them to hear,” he tells you.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like… you know, how much you love me and my massive dick-”

“Oh my god-” you groan, shaking your head and grinning. “I think maybe you should be careful- if you’re any more sweet to me, people will know I have you pussy whipped.”

“Pussy whipped?” Yunho laughs in shock, and he squeezes your ass cheek roughly. “You sure about that?”

“Don’t forget that before we turned the cam on, you admitted that-”

“Woah,” suddenly you’re being pulled up to your knees, back to his chest with his hand around your throat, “no need to spill any secrets, baby.”

You simply smile, voice teasing when you say “Sorry, sir.”

“Okay, I think it’s time to turn your phone off.” With one last sigh, Yunho pulls out of your core, and you whine at the loss, reaching down to cup your pussy so none of his cum can drip onto his bed.

With your other hand, you grab at your phone, pulling it out of the tripod and saying goodbye to whoever is still in the room. You’ve got bigger things to deal with now- like how to get to the Ateez dorm bathroom without running into Gi.

Interact with those who've cum before

› [nct] NiceGuyJohnny - online

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› [got7] beommie - online

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› [got7] TheJinyoung - online

› [bts] TaeTae - online

› [nct] ValentineJae97 - online

› [nct] HeyChannie - online

› [multi] TheJinyoung & NiceGuyJohnny - online

› [nct] Private Room - online

› [svt] GyuGyu97 & Hannie - online

› [atz] Yunhoe - now in server

› [svt] CherryCheolie - online

Find the cam room directory here

Kofi I Paypal I Tumblr Masterlist

✘ general taglist:

@jjinyounf - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin @milkteade - @woogyuhae

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @poutypoutybin -

@thatoneidolsthiccbitch - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@notbeforelong - @ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@binchangf - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling - @gigilame

@cumtrov3rsy - @mocha000 - @darthlunaa - @shiningnono

@asjkdk

thanks to those who interacted with promos :)

@heavenly-mobo - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @capr1sun

@ryusha-rose - @hyuckhoon - @kosmoreads - @meenjee

@arizejkt19 - @xcharlottemikaelsonx - @allie-mcginn -

@misssugarlips

#yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez #ateez smut #yunho ateez #yunho ateez smut #ateez yunho #ateez yunho smut #cam baby #jeong yunho #jeong yunho smut #jung yunho #jung yunho smut

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eponymous-rose · 7 months ago

Text

I can't find it now, which probably means it was months and months ago, but someone sent me an ask about considering adopting a cat but, as a dog person, not knowing much about adoption (e.g., whether shelter cats are good for first-time owners) and the day-to-day responsibilities of cat ownership. I can answer for my own experience, although I'm sure I'll be forgetting some important aspects!

Shelter vs Purebred:

I have a little 5-year-old shelter cat, a female domestic shorthair with a tuxedo coat! That's a big difference between cats and dogs - the vast, vast, VAST majority of cats you'll ever encounter are simply categorized as domestic shorthair/medium hair/longhair, with purebred cats being rare enough that they generally are limited to breeders - when I was an adoption counselor at a shelter, I only saw a couple of potentially purebred cats some through, and both were likely mixes. A lot of the time, cats are identified by their coat colors instead (e.g., calico, tabby, orange, tuxedo, colorpoint, dilute, etc.) with much made of the personality traits associated with those coats even though there's tragically no real science to back that up. Some coat colors are much more common with particular sexes of cats - orange cats are about 80/20 male/female, while calicos are >98% female - and that may contribute to some of the kitty stereotypes (e.g., orange cats are typically male, and neutered male cats tend to be quite calm and chill).

I'd heartily recommend shelter cats to anyone, including first-time owners. A lot of purebred cats sadly come with medical conditions (e.g., scottish folds often have significant pain due to connective tissue disorders, manx cats are prone to arthritis and spinal problems, maine coons and sphynx cats have relatively high rates of congenital heart disease, persians are brachycephalic and have breathing issues) or extra-high maintenance care requirements (e.g., sphynx cats must be bathed regularly because the lack of hair means the oils on their skin stick to any and all dirt, maine coons and ragdolls and norwegian forest cats require significant daily grooming to keep their long double coats from matting, brachycephalic cats require extra baths and grooming since they're generally unable to keep their own coats as clean, and breeds like bengals are so immensely high-energy that it's nearly a full-time job keeping up with their needs for enrichment and constant activity).

Shelter cats are almost all domestic shorthair/medium hair/longhair breeds, and tend to have the longest life expectancy of all kitties - although there are no guarantees (I sadly lost a 9-month-old kitten to a congenitally damaged heart) the lifespan numbers quoted lately for indoor-only cats tend to be around 15-25 years. And, of course, most places are overrun with stray cats - adopting from a shelter often comes with a free spay/neuter and vaccines, along with the satisfaction of having rescued a little critter that had a rough start before finding a forever home. You can visit shelters and get to know the kitties there - keep in mind that most cats are dramatically more fearful and shy in cages, and that you can often ask volunteers to point you to their favorites, especially if you're looking for an extra-chill cat as a first-time owner.

Consider adopting an adult cat! Kittens are adorable, but their energy levels are absolutely through the roof... as well as their destructive potential. Picture tiny whirlwinds with knives on their feet, the ability to jump 4-5 feet from a dead stop, zero sense of self-preservation, and the ability to keep sprinting for hours at random times of day and night. If you do get a kitten, consider adopting two - they tend to be less work since they'll keep each other entertained. Adult cats, however, tend to have more chill personalities and are more likely to settle into a routine quickly. My Clara is still pretty high-energy, but at 5 years old she's happy to have a shorter session of zoomies and intense play if it means she can then just curl up on a lap or in the sun to snooze and purr. Senior kitties are also wonderful - often cats don't have a very visible decline and remain relatively high-energy and chipper until very late in life, so it's not unusual that a 13-year-old cat will still act like a kitten and have many good years ahead, just a bit more chill.

Keep in mind that a cat is a long-term commitment. I was 7 years old when my parents brought two kittens home from the shelter - they lived another 18 years, until I was well into grad school.

Common Health Problems:

Cats that were once strays are very prone to two common diseases: FIV and FeLV. FIV (feline immundeficiency virus) essentially is a disorder of the immune system: these cats may be more prone to getting ill and may get more significantly ill when they do get sick. Luckily, FIV is far from a death sentence! These cats can live a normal quantity and quality of life with proactive health monitoring and regular trips to the vet (we're talking every 6 months instead of every year). FIV is contagious to other cats, but generally is only spread via deep bite wounds, so mixing of FIV+ and FIV- cats is possible given that you know that the cats are unlikely to get into a major fracas. FeLV (feline leukemia virus), sadly, has a worse prognosis - there's a lot of variability, but generally the best-case scenario is only a handful of years before the viral load is too high to avoid dangerous symptoms.

Another kitty disease that is sadly common among younger cats in particular is FIP (feline infectious peritonitis), which is a complication from a common kitty coronavirus that can emerge at any time and often manifests in very vague symptoms and is difficult to pin down. Until very, very recently, FIP was essentially considered to be 100% fatal within a couple of months and the recommendation was euthanasia. Now there are medications that can bring that survival rate past 90% - they're in the process of going through FDA approval, although there are groups online dedicated to getting you those medications through less official channels as needed. If anyone's familiar with Drawfee, Jacob and Julia's cat Olive was diagnosed with FIP at around 1 year old and was considered to be terminal - and, thanks to one of those online groups getting them the medication, is currently a happy and healthy 6-year-old kitty.

Nearly all shelter cats I've encountered have some level of URI (upper respiratory infection) - be prepared for a little extra sneezing and potentially having to give eyedrops the first couple weeks after getting home. URIs are SO CONTAGIOUS that it's almost impossible to keep them from spreading in a shelter setting. Also common is ringworm, although most shelters will isolate any contagious kittens and keep the infection localized.

Please spay and neuter your cats! They can have kittens incredibly young and incredibly frequently - unspayed female cats are also prone to certain cancers and unneutered male cats are prone to spraying (urinating on walls and other surfaces). The surgery is incredibly routine for both males and females (Clara had complications, but that just meant she had a few extra days of confinement) and generally the hardest part is keeping them from going after their stitches. Most shelters will provide spay/neuter services for free or on the cheap. They recover quickly and completely.

Cats also do incredibly well in a lot of different situations - deaf or half-deaf cats are quite common (nearly all blue-eyed cats with white coats are deaf) and just need some extra care to ensure they feel safe; the same goes for blind or one-eyed kitties, who can still happily play and navigate a space once they're familiar with it. Routine is key! Three-legged cats do so well that the saying is that cats are all born with a spare leg they don't actually need. If this is a recent condition, or if there are big changes in the cat's life (such as moving to a new home), just make sure to give them some extra time, support, and patience while they adjust. Amputation in cats can be really rough in the first couple of weeks, but soon enough they'll be sprinting around and jumping up on improbably high shelves.

Male cats are more prone than female cats to urinary blockages, which is one reason why I think it's important to actively clean the litter box yourself rather than using a robot. Changes in urinary output/pain while urinating/urinating outside the box can give you hints about a urinary blockage (a medical emergency in cats) or longer-term issues such as kidney disease, which can be managed with medication for quite some time as long as you know they're happening.

Cats are really good at hiding pain/illness, so it's important to be aware of signs of discomfort (sitting hunched with the neck extended can indicate difficulty breathing, whiskers extended stiffly from the face can indicate a grimace of pain, disruptions to routine such as avoiding beloved people or favorite spots, eating/drinking/litter box irregularity) and to ensure that you bring them to the vet on a regular basis to catch the stuff that might not be causing symptoms yet. Clara has a benign heart murmur and a little stiffness in one ventricle that requires her to visit a vet specialist every year or two to get an echocardiogram to check for any progression into heart disease (one in seven cats wind up with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, which has a long median survival with presymptomatic treatment) - if those symptoms are ever present, we get her on medication early and it's unlikely to influence her lifespan for quite some time, whereas unmonitored and untreated, the first symptom would likely be sudden death. Knowing about this in advance also means that she has recommendations in her chart if she ever needs anesthesia for a different procedure. Having a regularly updated baseline at the vet means your cat is that much more likely to live a long, happy, healthy life.

The Day-to-Day:

Caring for cats is extremely fun, and the key is routine! Cats LOVE routine and will happily follow you around through your day-to-day. Clara is fed with an auto-feeder, which means she doesn't tend to pester me too much about food (and which means I can monitor how much she's eating and make adjustments as needed). She's prone to stress-induced stomach upset (aren't we all!) so she gets prescription food and some extra wet food with probiotics if I know something stressful is coming up soon. The auto-feeder dispenses food multiple times during the day, so she can't gorge herself and get sick.

For grooming, Clara does a pretty great job on her own, so I just have to brush her occasionally and every few weeks I will trim her claws. Do not declaw a cat! It's an amputation that is illegal in many states/countries and frequently results in chronic pain and behavioral problems such as an aversion to certain textures (a Major Problem if that texture includes litter...). If you can't trim a cat's claws on your own, try doing one or two at a time while they're sleeping - unlike with dogs, the quick is super visible on a cat's claws, so it's tough to mess up too badly. If all else fails, vets will trim claws for you, or can provide you with glue-on covers for the claws. I also brush Clara's teeth - you can get soft little toothbrushes and tasty-to-cats toothpaste, and even just them gnawing on the toothbrush can provide some benefit. Regular vet visits are also important to monitor any tooth decay that may occur. Cats can do well even with no teeth at all (the teeth are generally just for tearing pieces of prey, not chewing), but keeping those teeth healthy while they've got 'em is important, if only to avoid general anesthesia for a cleaning!

Most cats do very well without baths - so far, Clara has only needed a few little spot-cleans after minor accidents. Bathing is extremely stressful for most cats, so if necessary, I'd check out guides online to help reduce the stress levels. Many cats gradually lose the ability to keep themselves clean, so it's worth looking into, but don't expect to have to wash a cat as often as you would a dog by any means. (Unless you have a sphynx cat, of course...)

To help with scratching, provide scratchers for cats and keep them near the things you don't want the cat to scratch, as attractive alternatives (you can entice them with some catnip sprinkled on the scratchers!) - it's important to have both horizontal and vertical scratchers, since they exercise different muscles. Be aware, though, that bringing a cat into the home means that some of your furniture may be at risk. You can absolutely minimize the risk of damage, but I'd say you can almost never get rid of that risk completely.

Play is super important! I play with Clara throughout the day, but I also set aside some time every single evening to run around with her and really get her playing hard for a while (after which I clean her box, replace her water dishes, and go to bed - the importance of routine!). Cats aren't endurance hunters, but they require very little rest between bursts of energy, so hanging around for a bit with a toy even after you think they may be done is super valuable. Keep in mind that cats can get into life-threatening danger if they eat pieces of toys (strings, feathers, etc.) so it can be good to have some safe toys out all the time (e.g., foam balls) while the more dangerous ones (strings, feathers, etc.) are locked away when you're not actively playing.

Daily maintenance is pretty easy. I clean Clara's litter box at least once per day (which just involves scooping the contents into a bag that I then throw into the trash bin outside - less than 2 minutes/day) and do a deeper clean every week or two where I empty out all the litter and quickly scrub the box itself. Cats are lousy at remembering to drink, so I have three water bowls around the house - these get washed and replaced with fresh water every evening. Fountains are great for some cats (Clara had no interest) - some cats are obsessed with running water. Keeping water away from food can also help encourage cats to drink more. Apart from that, it's mostly just refilling the auto-feeder, attempting to tempt her with wet food (she's not a fan), and giving the occasional treat.

She also gets a monthly flea/tick preventative, which is just a couple drops of liquid that I apply at the base of her neck (usually while she's sleeping). She's an indoor-only cat, but bugs get inside and can transmit all sorts of bad stuff. Be warned that you should NEVER use a dog flea preventative on a cat - the dosage can be so high that it can cause a lot of harm. Make sure you have a correct dosage - ask your vet for more info.

And that's about it! In return for that minor maintenance, I get a silly little fluffy friend who follows me around and makes me laugh all day every day. She's gone from a really skittish little scaredy-cat to... well, still a skittish little scaredy-cat around most people, but around me she's affectionate and constantly looking for cuddles.

I hope this is in some way useful! I think a lot of people who don't consider themselves cat people would really enjoy having a cat - and even if you decide it's not for you, I hope you can appreciate and enjoy the other cats in your life!

#eponymous cat tag #long text post

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asnowdriftsomewhere · 2 months ago

Text

Wild Heart

An OC character study

Helion/Oc

Read on Ao3

Summary: The grand, final ballad was reaching its crescendo and I didn’t want to miss one note of it. This last perfect song that played along his skin, it danced through his hair and whispered in his eyes. I heard it now, the chords I'd been looking for all my life… It wasn't a melody at all but a soul that matched my own. This male, whose name I did not know, belonged to me, and I would destroy myself before I let any more harm befall him.

Warnings: HURT/COMFORT, angst, War, mention SA, mentally disable character, aphasia, suicidal thoughts, mention torture, abuse,

(let me know if i should add others)

Word Count: 3619

A/N: takes place in that little pocket of time just before Amren destroys the Hybern army and before Feyre and Rhys fix the Cauldron.

I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think!!

Beta read by: @queen-vessaraia-ashlynne

Sometimes, the beginning is not the beginning. Sometimes, the beginning is the middle, and the story is told in both directions at the author's will. Sometimes, the beginning is the last ordinary day lived before everything changes, when life is not happy, but peaceful and quiet. Sometimes, the beginning is war and blood and chaos. The complete destruction of serenity. Sometimes, the story begins with the shattering of a soul. The rending of a person's psyche until they are not who they were before but are born again within the shadows. Until they are reforged by the fires of hell and emerge as something new, something to behold.

And sometimes, sometimes the story begins with the end. When the author has woven their tale and the tapestry can no longer be altered. When the players have been sealed within their fates and cannot be saved.

Sometimes, there is no happy ending, only the beauty of the story told along the way.

My story began with amber eyes meeting mine across the killing field. He was on his knees, the Hybern Commander above him preparing the killing blow of a magic so great that it turned my head, even amongst the chaos reigning around me. I didn't know what it was, I didn't understand what pulled me into the middle of the battle like a siren's song sung to my soul, a call to the hunt that I could not ignore. But I stumbled through the dirt and the mud, the bodies and viscera coating my bare legs in blood and gore as I moved mindlessly through the violence unfolding around me.

Steel clashed against steel. Fae males and beasts alike roared their fury into the skies - but I wasn't listening to them. There was music in the death blooming like a field of wildflowers around me, a song in the rage like the ash in the wind. I felt it in my bones, and I followed it through the fighting until I saw them. Two fae males locked in a battle of magic, a mountain of bodies between them. The lives of those foolish enough to step between the wielders of fate were now nothing more than corpses, ragdolls at their feet as they faced off against each other and bent reality to their will.

The magic was a melody I'd been waiting to hear for what felt like forever. My fractured mind watched their spells like they were notes of a chord that surrounded and enveloped me. It soothed my sensitive skin and eased some of the weight I felt hanging heavily around my heart. I followed it like a light in the shadows until there was only a few scant yards between us.

The Hybern Commander I recognized. His was a face I saw in my nightmares; I knew what his hands felt like on my body, what his magic did to my being, and I smiled softly at the disheveled state of him. He was bruised and bloody, a trail of rubies leaking from his nose and down his throat. I wondered what gems he would spawn if someone split his skin from ear to ear. I wondered if his bones would shine like ivory or were they black as sin beneath his robes. Who would he beseech when I peeled the flesh from his limbs? Which of his Fae gods would he beg to intervene on his behalf? After all, he knew I had no one to cry out for when he entered my cell night after night. He knew there was no one to save me as I was dragged through war, from camp to camp. Thrown into his tent as a personal plaything, a gift from the King himself. I wondered if he would beg, as I had, to see just one more sunrise. I wondered if he would dream of possibility. If he would marvel at the birth of a young god or ponder when his story began - when the end would come.

Something was building in me as I considered what shape his screams would take, if his fear would heal some small piece of my sundered spirit, if - in the end - it mattered at all. Like a tidal wave cresting through my body, I plucked the notes from the skies until a shattered refrain danced around me, ready to impose just a fraction of the pain I'd suffered onto the male who had inflicted it. I walked across the bottom of an ocean and dragged the weight of it behind me like a cloak of retribution to be unleashed upon the world which had scattered me to the winds.

The other male fell to his knees before the Commander. Blood was splattered across his dark skin like rose petals, staining his white robes. His hair was braided back, a ribbon the color of sunbeams tied at the end, drifting in the wind that circled him. It matched his eyes.

Eyes that were staring at me.

Everything stopped. The universe held its breath, and the music changed. The song of war and reckoning that had led me here faded, and a new melody played between our souls. A softer chord to caress my jagged edges and cradle my fractured mind. This male was the beginning of me, the sunrise that promised possibility, and the song I could always hear but never find. Like a dream brought to life, the music shifted and settled within me and the Hybern Commander drifted away like a fine mist in the wind as the world began again.

He watched me, amber eyes locked with mine as we studied each other. The war raging around us was little more than white noise compared to the song singing in my blood. My heart was a drum in my chest and my breath came in ragged pants as I stood frozen amid the death. The shattered refrain around me still hummed in my veins and I felt it crash against my edges. It was a force that would not be ignored, that demanded to be unleashed. It would turn everything around me into dust - as it had done to the Commander - only now I didn't want to recklessly rip apart this world that had destroyed me. I didn't want to kill this male who felt like hope when there had been none for so long. I didn't want to extinguish the life and joy his eyes promised me before I even got the chance to know him.

The refrain bent and groaned within my iron grip and a scream shattered my bones as it ripped its way out of me. I shoved the music back down, drowned myself in the ocean of my power and collapsed into the mud and gore as my blood turned to fire and smoke poured from my lips.

“Release it!” A voice I didn't recognize shouted as hands clasped my shoulders and my head snapped up to see amber eyes so close to mine. For a moment, I felt like I was walking across the surface of the sun. Like a solar flare had wrapped around my body and ran fingers through my hair. I felt like I was adrift in a sea of warmth and care, where nothing could hurt me and music flowed like a promise. But the hands that gripped me squeezed and shook and a baritone breeze danced down my spine, “Release the magic, or it will kill you!”

And wouldn't that be fine? To die among the dirt and the chaos of a war I tried to stop? My mind flashed to a dark, deathless room and a power that prowled along its edges, as if deciding who it would strike. I'd just watched two women be thrown into the Cauldron like lambs slaughtered in sacrifice. I'd watched from my place at my sister's feet, bound and gagged as the Spring Lord was across the room, tears streaming down my face as I saw my failure unfold before me. I had tried to stop this, tried to get my sister to see reason, and when that failed I had tried to take her crown and put an end to it myself. But she discovered my treachery, she put me in irons and dragged me here, saying I'd understand once we were made Fae. Once we became young and beautiful forever I would be grateful for all that she did to get us here…

The Cauldron's waters felt like ice in my veins. Like the cold of a winter that would never end crystallized along my bones and ripped my mind to shreds as it screamed in agony. Something had been taken from it. So it took something from me in return.

My mind, once a steel trap of facts and knowledge, fractured like light through a prism. A kaleidoscope of color and emotions that crashed against itself from one moment to the next, it never settled long enough to take in the picture - to understand the thought - and words became weapons pointing in. Sentences were a blade against my throat and my broken brain couldn't comprehend why they couldn't understand. Why did they look at me like what I was saying didn't make sense?

It wasn't until the first Queen emerged as a withered old crone that they realized something was wrong, that the Cauldron was taking more than it was giving and that I was not whole where I lay curled into myself on the floor. The Prythian Fae had long since fled, and Hybern had no answers for my sister who demanded them. I watched her and the other Queens gather to leave - she did not reach for me, and in that moment my rage erupted around us.

The stone beneath me cleaved in two and the wind that whipped through the room stole the air from their lungs. Lightning crackled at my fingertips and through the water soaking into the floor; no one dared to come closer to try and stop me. I would have torn the castle down around us. I would have buried myself and every monster I saw so deep into the earth that there would have been no chance of anyone surviving.

But that clever King would not go quietly into the night. He waved his hands in front of his body, and I watched as he plucked magic from the rock and wind and the dark places around us. I saw the melody he composed unfurl around me, a noose at my neck, until my fury evaporated like smoke in the wind and I shattered once again as the blackness consumed me. When I woke, I was in a cell with a Commander watching me from beyond the bars and that was when I learned what the ‘hell on earth’ truly meant.

And now here I was, so many months or years or weeks later, dying as the magic I'd spent all that time gathering to me burned me from the inside out. I refused to unleash it, so it turned that destructive force inward. I could feel it as, cell by cell, piece by piece, I died in this male's arms. He looked so… panicked, so fearful of something- I didn't know what, but he pulled my small body against his as if he hoped to warm my chilled skin. As if he believed he could squeeze life back into me now that the sun was setting on my final day.

It was so silly - and he was disrupting the song. The grand, final ballad was reaching its crescendo and I didn’t want to miss one note of it. This last perfect song played along his skin, it danced through his hair and whispered in his eyes. I heard it now, the chords I'd been looking for all my life… It wasn't a melody at all but a soul that matched my own. This male, whose name I did not know, belonged to me and I would destroy myself before I let any more harm befall him.

“You are mine,” he whispered against my cheek. “Do not leave me when I've only just found you. Let it go.”

Something like a whimper shuddered through my body and hot liquid dripped from my lips. I can't, I wanted to tell him. I can't control it, it will kill you- I can't… But my words were trapped as they had been since my mind fractured apart that day in Hybern. I felt them on the tip of my tongue, but my mouth would not do as I wished. I screamed into the wind as smoke billowed out of me.

“Thesan!” my male made of sunbeams, shouted into the chaos. Tears like diamonds streamed down his cheek as he frantically searched the killing field. “Kallias! Help!”

“Helion?” Someone I couldn't see spoke and my body twitched as lightning sparked in my veins. “Who-”

“She's burning up- the magic- she won’t release it,” he spoke quickly, sharply. Every word was a blade turned into a bird that flew into the wide open eternity. I watched them land on a fae male carved from ice, his blue eyes like stars. He knelt beside us in the mud, cold finger clasping around my ankle as his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Let me see her,” another voice, a voice like the first rays of dawn, approached and I was shifted until my head rested in my male's lap and my body was accessible to these strangers. I might have begun to struggle then. My feet kicked and my nails scratched until he took my head in his hands and he leaned closer to place his lips to my temple.

“Be still my Wild Heart,” he whispered to me. “They only want to help.”

They can't help, I wanted to scream even as my body obeyed the dominance in his tone. I will die. No one can change that. The sun was setting for the last time, and all I wanted was to watch it vanish in his eyes.

A noise like a murmur hissed through my lips and two new songs joined the chores. The first was a melody of ice, inching its way across my skin and seeping into my bones. It was light and airy, like the chiming of bells on a clear winter's day. The second was deep, the drumming of magic through all living things. The rhythm of a healthy heart and a spirit unbroken.

“If she doesn't release her power then the magic will boil her alive,” the male of the dawn grimaced, his hands glowing like tiny suns as they passed over my bruised and broken form. “We can only maintain this for so long before our magic is depleted-”

“You must let it go, Little Light,” he ordered me as he sat up so his perfect face above me was all I could see. “The magic will kill you-”

No, I thought, fighting against the instincts to listen- to obey. The new fae part of me that bowed to power beyond my own wrestled with my human soul and a snarl came out in response. Two wolves rolled through the trees behind my eyes. One was made of light and life and the other of shadow and doubt, and they ripped and clawed and bit each other until they both lay in pieces around me.

“She can’t control it.” A voice like the darkest part of the night enveloped us and I felt star kissed talons glide across my mind. Instinctively, the storm of magic in my bones shifted to wrap around my psyche and force the intruder out into the sky. Like a stone returned to the child who'd thrown it. “She can't speak. The magic will destroy everything in its path and she doesn't want to hurt you, Helion.”

My male's eyes shot to mine, understanding blooming in these amber depths like a rose unfurling in the light. He lifted me so that I was sitting in the mud across from him, knee to knee and soul to soul. “I can control it,” he whispered, a dagger appearing in one hand before he sliced a fresh wound across his palm and reached for me. “You let it go, and I will make sure it doesn't hurt an innocent soul.” My gaze narrowed on the rubies dripping down his arm and I almost didn't notice as he cut a matching line into my hand before pressing our wounds together.

The sun erupted as the storm burst out of me and there was only us. Me and him and the song of our souls colliding in the daylight.

Butterflies of light danced at the edges of my vision as I sat before him. Our hands clasped together, the magic passed through our bodies and the rain fell in a deluge that soaked us to the bone. I pressed my brow to his, inhaling his scent of sandalwood and dragon's blood. I let him cloud my senses, absorb my thoughts, as he pressed his free hand to my face. His thumb stroked my cheek and I felt a smile like a warning bell pull at the corners of my lips.

And I saw us, saw us sitting atop golden thrones, books and scrolls passed like secrets while he held my hand in his.

I blinked and we were lying in bed amongst the clouds, limbs tangled beneath the sheets and bliss reflected in our faces.

I blinked again. My male was sitting at a desk, his chair turned to the side so his hands could roam my pregnant belly as I stood beside him and smiled.

Images of a life, a promise of eternity, played out before my eyes and all the while the melody of us swelled in my ears. I could hear the inevitable end, fast approaching even as the magic was siphoned out of me and my body was healed.

The sun was still setting.

The beginning was the end.

Fate had already been written.

And I knew it wasn't fair, but I knew that what was broken inside of me was too much for anyone to have to bear. It could never be undone, I would never be whole as I appeared in those visions of the future, and I would always be a burden to this male made of magic and sunshine. My wings were stuck - clipped before I'd ever had the chance to fly.

It was not for myself that I reached for the knife he'd discarded in the dirt beside us. It was for him, to free him from my shattered melody so that he would never know hardship at my hands. Music sang between our souls, but even that could not overcome all that lay between us.

Fast as lightning, I turned the dagger to my own heart - only for the Lord of Night to grasp my wrist and twist until I let go of the blade. A hiss of outrage slipped from my throat as I flashed my teeth at the male. “Let the fire fly away,” I snarled and his expression softened. I growled with frustration.

Words! They were just words and yet my tongue was a foreign entity in my mouth. A stranger that refused to translate and my mind was a cage around me. A collection of colors with no discernable pattern and the rain slowed until it stopped.

I closed my eyes as the flames in my lungs turned to flowers blooming up my throat and I choked on the petals. My male cupped my face in his hands as words drifted out of me like dandelion fluff and I wondered if he could see them fly away like clouds of wishes into the summer sky.

He looked at me like I was a miracle.

I looked at him as if I were already dead.

“They threw her in the Cauldron after Nesta,” the Night Lord murmured, snatching his hand back as I reached for the dagger once more. “It broke her mind like it took the Queen's youth and beauty.”

“Gems dance in the light,” I growled, lunging for a nearby sword only for my male to wrap his body around me, pinning my arms to my sides.

“What was broken can be healed,” He whispered fiercely into my ear and the song between us thrummed in answer. “And if not healed, then accommodated. You are mine, body, soul, and fractured mind. So be mine, my Wild Heart.”

“Wild Heart,” I answered, my voice as soft as a diminuendo and I closed my eyes to listen. The war was ending, the songs were changing. And this male in my arms was a sunrise of possibility that I reached for in the dark. A thread of gold that guided me towards the light - that I followed through the fire and shadows until I emerged, reforged into something new, something to behold.

Wild Heart, he called me - and it felt like the name of a young god pulling me out of hell and into the light of day.

A human soul, a shattered mind, locked within a fae body - but these things did not feel like a weight around my heart while I was cocooned within his arms. It felt like strength, like the promise of another sunrise and another sunset and an eternity to learn how to unclip my wings. It did not feel like the end - the tapestry could still be altered, our fates were not yet sealed.

We were a beautiful story, waiting to be told.

And this…

This was only the beginning.

#fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #ao3 #helion spell cleaver #helion x oc #helion #helion acotar #hurt/comfort #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #mates #hope #music #disabled character #aphasia #driven by character not plot #character exploration

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mishy-mashy · 1 year ago

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This was on a separate post but I think it should have its own (also because I went off-track when I first wrote this)

Remember when Midoriya was trying to wake up a Quirk as a child, trying to pull the couch toward him or breathe fire?

This was him trying to use his parents' Quirks, in the hope he inherited one of theirs.

Inko could pull small objects. Hisashi could breathe fire.

Anyway this is a [Midoriya has AFO] post and [DFO is real]-

Anyway please listen? If his dad was AFO, and passed on that Quirk to little Midoriya, it makes sense that they all considered him Quirkless.

All For One starts as a blank slate. It has no Quirks available, because none were taken yet. And if no Quirks were stolen, nevermind passing through the user to be bestowed to others, then AFO at the base level is the equivalent of being Quirkless.

Midoriya having AFO would leave him as Quirkless. And he never would've known if he had AFO, because he thinks his dad just breathes fire. AFO's existence is just an urban legend to people back then.

Midoriya wouldn't be able to breathe fire if AFO was his dad, because that was never his Quirk.

Even if he did have a fire-breathing Quirk, AFO holds onto random ones like Naval Laser. It could just be one of those gags.

All For One is a quirk that takes. One For All decides to be given.

Midoriya, rather than take, was instead given Quirks, and sees people's goodness. He isn't selfish at his core. He's too optimistic. This is the opposite of AFO, which takes and gives—Midoriya was on the receiving end of being given, by OFA.

If Midoriya had a natural AFO, it makes sense that he's Quirkless. It also makes sense that he can handle multiple Quirks from OFA; because the nature of AFO is being able to wield multiple Quirks in one body.

AFO looks for Quirks that are easy to use, and straightforward. Midoriya ended up with Quirks that he has to strategize and think with, and even Bruce mentions his brain couldn't do all the processing, which is why he froze up.

Midoriya is past the point of Singularity. Yoichi says this when he first tells Ninth "You are not alone". But Midoriya is completely fine.

He only breaks his bones. He doesn't deform and become something the human body warps to be able to contain the Quirks. He got a good deal, when considering what Shigaraki became once.

He has OFA's Quirk Factor, but that Quirk Factor stores up Quirk Factors within itself. We can deduce that from Bruce saying only Danger Sense's Factor was stolen. It's naturally a stockpiling power similar to AFO that Yoichi had forced on him, and at its very base, Bruce called an "unformed dud".

Now, it's more grown from all the strength and Quirks stockpiled. Even if OFA counts as one Quirk, it still holds multiple Factors inside itself, so it might as well be the same as multiple Factors to the body. When Shinomori explained his life shortened because of multiple Quirks, he shows all the users before him, rather than the more-common "One For All is glowing in my hand" or "One For All is a flame" image to show the crystallization of power. Though it could just be to show the individuals adding to the short-life..

In the void, we see OFA vestiges are inside the vault, according to the door's face. On the other side, like when Yoichi was alive, could be AFO.

Midoriya sees the goodness of people. He said Eri's power was gentle, and always affirms that she saved him when she tries putting herself down. He says Shinso's Quirk is amazing, and he'd make a great hero. When seeing Chisaki while fighting Nagant, he just said he'd talk to him later, and promised to fulfill her promise if he was willing to direct his regret toward Eri. Kudo says he should hate Bakugo, but Midoriya looks at the heart, and believes in that.

AFO only sees the Quirk first. He looked at Ragdoll, decided to take the Quirk and didn't care for what happened to her body afterwards. When he looked at Best Jeanist, he applauded his use of his Quirk to save everyone, but then knocked Jeanist down anyway, saying it required too much work, so he didn't need the Quirk.

Midoriya having AFO and OFA would make him an intersection. He's born with AFO, but because he believed he was Quirkless, had grown up being put down, and knows what it's like to be weak. Born with AFO, but seeing the unequal world, and being given OFA because he wanted to save people and be a hero.

Y'know, this sounds a lot like Yoichi. Believed to be Quirkless because his Quirk required someone else, and therefore was unfinished and "non-existent". Even AFO didn't realize it existed because it was so weak.

Midoriya wanted to save people. He has AFO. He's living what AFO could've done [saving others] and embodying Yoichi's belief ["the power to give and take could have been the kindest in the whole world"].

All For One is blank. AFO only had an Ability he could use because he stole his mother's at birth.

Midoriya didn't. His Quirk should've come when he turned five. And he didn't know about AFO. He doesn't even have holes in his palms

If there's no holes in his palms, either his Quirk Factor is elsewhere, or manifests differently in said hands. In which we consider Inko: she can pull small objects toward her

It's possible for Midoriya to have a combination of AFO and Inko's Abilities. He tried pulling objects, but he never tried pulling people or Quirks.

If Midoriya can take Quirks from a distance, and AFO, like OFA, stores Quirks within a single Factor, then Kudo could be saying to let go of One For All so he can make room for All For One's Factor. Midoriya would have the capacity for it.

#stuff i mentioned in a previous post that should be its own post #dfo is like the rat swarm to me #i have the same feelings toward it like the rats #man imagine everyones getting the perfect fusion of quirks #like bakugo and midoriya #and then we have endeavor with four kids and one of them got the wrong combination (touya)#mha #bnha #spoilers #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #afo #all for one #ofa #one for all #dfo #izuku midoriya #yoichi shigaraki #inko midoriya #an earlier post about how the users could be guarding the door of the vault something something #maybe by letting go of ofa then technically AFO gets what he wants #but then the factors are destroyed by the war raging in afo's vestige land #in any case i want more details about the vestiges #like height backstory etc #why is bruce a head taller than kudo? why does en look shorter than midoriya? HOW TALL ARE THEY?

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allwormdiet · 5 months ago

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Interlude 2

Ahh, it's time for Brockton Bay's healthiest family to debut

Flight is so cool. Flight without having to get cold or wet or getting pelted by bugs is outright unfair.

Me, utterly charmed: oh my god she's a fucking NERD

And she's a nerd who's scaring the piss out of Nazis, who would hate this girl?

Which, oh yeah, the Nazis run around in Brockton Bay, bet those guys will never sour my mood

Glory Girl's got a whole bunch of powers, huh. Can't wait to get into the exact circumstances of how she got really cool abilities as an inadequate consolation prize for whatever hell she had to endure

I'm gonna be real, the description of this throw made me flinch a little bit. Like he's a Nazi so fuck him, but I hope it doesn't turn out that Victoria is this blase about all her targets

...So if the only spines she ever breaks are Nazi spines, then I'll give Glory Girl every pass she ever asks for, but if she ever wraps a weed dealer's skeleton around a lamppost I'm going to feel a liiiiiittle more concerned.

Everything else aside, this is fucking hilarious

So these two are at the epicenter of, as far as I can tell, one of the most divisive subjects in this fandom? With the others mostly seeming to be variations on "did such-and-such character have full moral justification to do actual for-real crimes against humanity." Let's see where this takes us

I feel a little bad immediately for the contrasts between Vicky and Amy. Five bucks says it's gonna turn out Amy is like the only brunette in the whole family, and while everyone else gets to show off a little she's dressed in a sackcloth. It's very white mage, but I don't know if she even knows what a white mage is.

Also it's a minor detail in the grand scheme of things but I fear for her hair's health if it's actively being described as frizzy

So apparently between ragdolling a Nazi like it's Garrys Mod and this passage, people have chosen to interpret Victoria Dallon as a monster. I can see how they'd be mistaken on this because technically speaking they're close: she's a teenager. For a lot of people the worst version of ourselves is one that exists somewhere between the ages of twelve and twenty, don't ask me how I know that one. The guilt trip here is definitely manipulative, but so is every kid who's trying to play whatever card they have to dodge repercussions for their fuckups. This is a kid, not a master manipulator who twists hearts around in her fingers like rings. This is normal behavior within an abnormal context.

According to Wikipedia, "foreshadowing is a narrative device in which a storyteller gives an advance hint of what is to come later in the story. Foreshadowing often appears at the beginning of a story, and it helps develop or subvert the audience's expectations about upcoming events."

Fuck Nazis, and I'm gonna get in a preemptive "fuck Coil" while I'm at it

Hmm. So here we get the Docks from a third perspective (albeit a Nazi's, so let's take it with a grain of salt), and this time it's presented as something of material value. I wonder how much of that is due to the neighborhood being low-priority for the police and Protectorate, if they decided it's not worth policing if it's not going to recover any time soon.

It's also interesting seeing which names are being thrown around with the possibility of fighting over the territory. I know Squealer ends up part of the Merchants and they end up being a decent power in their own right, but I don't know if any of the others would have shown an interest in fighting for territory. I got the impression that Uber and Leet are more like unfunny and violent pranksters than anything, Circus apparently operates on their own which doesn't seem like how you'd make dreams of conquest come true, the Undersiders are sticking with the theft shtick at this point, and I don't know shit about Trainwreck or Stain. Wonder how much of this is legit speculation, how much of it is the E88 leadership blowing smoke for their followers, and how much of it is this specific guy blowing smoke.

Yeah, see, they're good kids. For now.

Current Thoughts

To pull back on the frame a little, I think this interlude was written with two goals: first and most obvious is to get us in the head of another young cape, a for-real hero this time, who will be featuring in future events to some extend, but then beyond that it's reflecting the rippling consequences of Taylor's actions. Taking down Lung was a good deed, it saved lives and weakened a major gang within the city, but now others are rushing in to take advantage of this and it could cause more harm than was prevented in Arc 1. Taylor couldn't have known these repercussions were coming, she's a high school sophomore who'd only engaged with the cape community in any way after she'd already knocked the bastard over, and she probably still would have made the play to take Lung down and save the Undersiders even knowing that there might be increased gang violence. She's big on action and she's big on pushing through to solve the problem, repercussions dealt with later, but I suspect that everything is going to ripple out in this same way until the whole city starts shaking with it.

Anyway, more to the first point, I like Victoria, she took very little time to endear herself to me and I'm not going to feel so awful about her bone-breaking habits as long as she keeps it to the Nazis

I haven't seen enough of Amy to have a full read on her yet, and I haven't gotten into her head to know how she thinks or feels, but for now I'm pretty solidly on sympathy/pity for her. I'd say something like "we'll see where she takes it from here" but I kinda already know that one

Hoo, boy. Arc 2 done with. 18 chapters in four days? That's not bad. I'm gonna stretch my legs and think for a bit and then I'll give my two cents on the whole of Insinuation.

#worm liveblogging #parahumans #liveblog #worm insinuation #wormblr

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estro-gem · 1 year ago

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Jax x Ragatha: Touch

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis

Author's note: Hey guys! It's bunnydoll time! I hope you have the patience to work your way through this one. I wonder if there are any of you who can remotely relate to the way I wrote Jax to be in terms of his aversion to touch.

Oh well, it's just a story about some fictional characters who aren't even mine. Credit goes to Gooseworx, for creating such fun characters for us to play with.

Hope you enjoy this one! This story was suppose to go into a completely different direction, but that idea can always be explored in the future - when I have the guts to put it on paper.

I'm sure that you don't need the context from my previous work to understand/enjoy this one.

Warnings: None... I think.

SUMMARY:

Jax is suffering from the frustrating effects of touch-starvation, despite his touch-aversion rendering him from doing anything about it. After meeting up with his fellow circus-members, a good laugh and a brief on their new adventure, Jax is given the chance to confide in Ragatha.

TOUCH

It was going to be one of those dreaded days.

Jax was lost in a dream only moments before – one of silky, living fabric with the softest stuffing that rang with a hushed, pleading voice for him and only him. For him to give more and more; and in the dream, he was willing – eager – to provide. He’d rattled the mountains to kneel before a ragdoll only to be brought to his knees himself, all for his little doll to just look at him.

To really just look at him.

Jax closed his eyes again, seeking the warm, fuzzy afterglow of the caresses shared in his lost dream. He desperately tried to sink deeper into his mattress, as he was pressed into the softness of his doll only moments before.

But now he was burning from the inside out.

Red-hot fire nipped and crackled on his skin and yet, Jax wanted to curl into himself and burst into shivers as his heart bashed into his ribcage, threatening to jump out from his throat. The sensations caused him to forget to reign in his breathing, so he was left almost panting, until the sound of his own voice riled him up even more. He sounded so pathetic and desperate in the confines of his own room.

Suddenly Jax’s attention was drawn to his claws, now ripped through his yellow gloves, and digging into his pillow. He pulled back his hands and forced himself to relax his digits enough, to allow the claws to sink back into place; tucked away and safe. The rabbit spied the little holes that his claws left in the plush bedding, feeling the sour taste of guilt invade his being.

That could’ve been Raggs.

Just like that, the sour was drowned in the glowing, shivering heat that trembled through him again. He groaned as he rolled over to sit up on the edge of his bed. He tried to force the thoughts of her eyes out of his head, only to be thrusted into the intrusive impulse of crushing her against him, stealing her breaths.

The bunny laid his face into his hands and felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes. It’s been a while since he felt like this, and the frustration was getting to him in ways that was almost too embarrassing to acknowledge. Jax knew that he was only going to suffer more once he left the safety of his room and he desperately tried to muster up all the reasons why he shouldn’t leave.

But someone would come knocking at his door if he didn’t – and heaven forbid that it would be Ragatha calling his name from the outside…

Because he might not be able to stop himself from dragging her into his depths only to screaming his name from the inside…

No.

This had to stop.

He was going to be fine, frustration been damned! It was just a bit of an off day, but nothing like he hasn’t lived through before. Yes, Jax was well equipped to handle the tug of war between touch-aversion and touch-starvation for the day. Just one day.

Just like he’d done all the mere handful of times he felt like this since he got here.

Jax lifted his arms to stretch, hearing the ring in his ears as he groaned at the pleasure of relieving his tense muscles. Speaking of stiffness, Jax felt the overall form of his body being a tad bit more defined and firmer than usual. Intrigued by this discovery, he poked at his bicep to confirm that it was as solid as it appeared, before rolling his eyes in annoyance. He must have really been tensed up and… invested… in that dream of his for him to notice it – or maybe his mind was just trying to occupy himself to forget the yearning for his doll’s hands to glide over his skin.

Ugh, it was going to be a rough day…

Whether Jax wanted to or not, he eventually left his room and dragged himself down the empty hallway of many doors. Voices buzzed from the main area, but he was too distracted to single them out, so the bunny was left to the element of surprise. He didn’t mind it too much, as he believed that any conversation would stimulate him beyond the confusing war between the contradicting needs of his body versus his mind.

The itch that only another’s touch could soothe, versus the itch of the unbearable residue that the touch would leave in its wake.

It was pathetic.

Finally met with the familiar figures in the main area, the rabbit’s eyes were pulled and fixed onto a specific scene. He narrowed his eyes, as his mind raced through multiple thoughts, not quite knowing what to make of what he saw.

Pomni and Kinger were off to the side of the main group, seemingly in a conversation that held the keen attention of the jester. She was practically fixated on the oversized chess piece, who by no doubt was talking about something deeper than the ramblings of a madman. Jax spotted mismatched eyes of the king dulled and muddled – and for once, sober. Just then, Jax decided to steer clear of those two, not wanting to rain on the royal’s parade.

It’s been so long since Kinger was as aware as he was now.

Even Jax wouldn’t want to knock down that precious house of cards. When Kinger was oriented, things were just… better in the Circus. It wasn’t something that anyone could explain, but something about Kinger holding out for so long, made life in the Digital Realm seem possible – even when surrounded and inflicted by anything and everything that was impossible. Granted, those sober moments were few, brief and far in-between, but they were there, rooted, and present. Jax recalled many instances where he was met with the elder’s sobriety, only for it to crumble to ash when he attempted to delve into it.

A genuine question asked by Jax in attempt to encourage the continuation of Kinger’s clear mindset, only met with the abrupt cut-off of another startled question by Kinger about whatever was happening at that moment, as if it never happened in the first place.

The snake’s charms were also proven to be ineffective against the royal, barely acknowledging his baiting and deliberate sabotage, but Jax kept hissing and striking regardless. In fact, everyone included Kinger in the happenings of the oasis, regardless of the effectiveness of it all. Anything that anyone could do for another precious moment of clarity from the king, was considered a worthy effort, because if he could make it this far and still have his mind…

Who’s to say they couldn’t make it either – even if only in small, precious increments?

What a shame to see such a precious moment of clarity to be wasted on a stupid waste of space. She had no idea how lucky she was to have that gem in her grimy little grasp.

Jax scoffed; deciding to look to where the rest of the group was situated. His heart clenched at the sight of his girls, watched over by none other than Zooble themself.

Gangle was happily wrapped around Ragatha’s slim frame. He could tell that the ribbon continuously squeezed the doll with a firm, but gentle pressure, just as Ragatha liked it. He heard Zooble mumble teasing comments about Raggs 'stealing their girl' as Gangle nuzzled her face into the top of the doll’s head, burying her face into the red wooly locks with an admittedly cute smile on her face. Sometimes, Jax wished for them to be living another life, where the bunny would be free to just pinch and tug the masked ribbon’s cheeks. He’d make it hurt, that’s for sure!

And then, there was his doll, also smiling and content – at ease in the crushing grasp of Gangle’s magic touch. The doll often sought out the ribbonoid for her infamous squeeze, as they found that Gangle was the best at practicing Ragatha’s occasional need for deep-pressure therapy.

Sure, some time ago, it was a case of desperation on Jax’s part to indulge his doll with his weighted cuddling, but Gangle was the ideal option. He didn’t mind the rare time with his dolly one bit, though. The annoying itch and bother prickling at his skin for the few hours afterwards was all the more worth it to have Ragatha melted and helpless beneath him.

Where she belonged.

Jax felt a warm, but not exactly unpleasant tingling ghost over his lips when his needy thoughts pushed back into his head upon remembering the sensual kiss he left on the inside of her wrist. It was when she wordlessly begged him to have her caress his cheek as her shaking hand hovered in offering for him to accept or reject. He couldn’t ever say no then – he doubted that he’d ever be able to say no to her ever.

Her face… her voice… pleading his name like a prayer...

Stop it.

It’s just worse because of that stupid, unrealistic dream he had before! It didn’t matter how much he dreamt about him sinking and drowning into his doll, because in the waking world, he was just a broken snake that felt the need to shed his skin every time anyone had the mere thought of touching him.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

For the time being, he’d be happy to just live vicariously through Gangle securely holding Ragatha as she sat cross-legged on the floor, while Gangle playfully blew raspberries at Zooble, who could only shake their head in mock-disappointment. It was written all over the ragdoll’s face and evident in the melody of her bright laugh; Ragatha felt safe and content.

That was more than enough for Jax to be happy.

Right?

“Jax! Took you long enough!” Jax was pulled out from his thoughts upon the sound of Zooble’s bored, bossy tone, “You’re lucky Caine’s not here yet. Where were you anyway?”

Jax’s sleazy grin was fixed on his face, trained and trimmed as the snake he was, “Oh, you know… definitely not snooping around you rooms or anything – but hypothetically, if I were, I’m pretty sure I forgot something in one of them, so if you find it, be sure to give me a shout!” He winked.

“Jax, I swear…” Ragatha’s face was pulled into a scowl, but the fire she possessed proved her spirit to shine as bright as ever, “If you rigged my room with firecrackers and smoke bombs again, I am going to lose it.”

“What?” Jax exclaimed in false expiration, “Didn’t you hear me say that it was hypothetical, Dollface? You might wanna get your ears checked, because it seems I left one too many centipedes in your room to crawl into them at night.”

“Oh my lord, Jax stop. Just stop.” Ragatha squirmed to get her arms free from Gangle’s grasp and cover her ears while shutting her eyes, “You are tricking me into thinking that I can actually feel them in my head!”

“I just got her to calm down, Jaaaax!” Gangle whined, switching out her masks to frown properly.

Jax wanted to laugh, but the girl’s whining rang an alarm.

Why would Raggs need to calm down?

He had to be smart about this – the coldblooded snake couldn’t show that he cared, so asking about it was out of the question. He considered using his silence – that always got someone talking.

He raised an eyebrow for good measure.

To his luck, Gangle just knew, as she always did, “She’s feeling a little touch starved today.”

Ragatha opted to cover her face instead of her ears. Her cheeks were glowing red with embarrassment, and she groaned out Gangle’s name to shut the ribboniod up, but the damage was done. Zooble saw Jax perk up more than he probably should have, followed by him sinking into himself like he was dragging dead weight with him. He was struggling to maintain his composure, Zooble thought to themself, surprised that even they were able to read him so easily today.

Meanwhile Jax was suffering from the internal fire that just didn’t seem to leave him be today.

What dumb luck for him and his poor little dolly to be suffering the same fate. He consoled himself that the solution was at least easier for Raggs than it was for him. He had other issues that prevented him from getting the help he wanted. He only wanted his doll’s touch – but even then, he didn’t really want it, either. It felt a bit comforting to know that Ragatha was suffering alongside him, but it killed him that he couldn’t do anything about it!

If he were to indulge in her touch like he did a mere week before, he would probably want to skin himself by the end of it all. The whole situation was bizarre to begin with! It was rare that he craved touch so quickly after such an invasive encounter, but here he was. And there she was.

Even though he knew that they were so different, it hurt a little to think that his touch only satisfied her until now, before she felt near distressed with need again.

And it also hurt that Gangle could replace his touch so well.

It actually hurt a little more than he was willing to admit.

Someone’s eyes were burning into his face and it was enough to have him jump out of his own head, looking over his fellow circus mates to see who’s eyes it was. He was surprised to find his dolly’s eyes peeking through her fingers. When he looked to her, she didn’t avert her gaze, so he had a chance to get a read on her, only for the bunny to find something he didn’t expect.

Ragatha had that yearning look again.

She watched his face very closely, as she slowly lowered her hands from her face, never once glancing away. The doll was calling out to him – he knew she was! His core was invaded with butterflies as she entranced him with that look that she seemed to reserve for him alone. He fell in love with how she silently pleaded for him, only to realize that she was, in fact, silently pleading for him.

He blinked but didn’t stir otherwise, trying to uphold his careless façade.

‘What do you want?’ a single, swift scrunch of his face was all he needed for her to understand.

Ragatha blinked in turn, and after a moment of her tossing her gaze around in search for an answer, her eyes fixed on him… or rather… his legs. His thighs? ...His hips?

Jax wanted to be set ablaze with that thought alone, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubble up from his chest. He knew it was unlikely but the thought of Ragatha being vexed by his hips was a hilarious thought at the time.

When Ragatha’s face became adorned with confusion, he flashed her a cheeky smile and swung his hips playfully, if not a tad suggestive. Her eye widened to resemble a dinnerplate before the dam broke and she burst into explosive laughter. It was so sudden that Jax could only bend over and wheeze as Gangle squeaked in surprise.

“I’m sorry!” Ragatha squeezed out in apology to her, but with one look to Jax’s face, laughter erupted from her with a new vigor. As Jax sunk onto his hands and knees, it seemed that he couldn’t risk looking at the doll without laughing either. The situation left Gangle and Zooble glancing between the 2 in the utmost confusion, but they didn’t get the chance to ask anything.

“My, my! It’s sure is a jolly occasion we have here!” Caine’s voice boomed from above, suddenly floating in the space between Jax and Ragatha, “Care to share the joke, folks? The audience would be dying to know!”

“Oh, Caine, hey buddy!” Jax managed to say as he desperately tried to just breathe again, “Don’t- don’t worry about it-” Jax cut himself off with a something in between a whine and a suppressed giggle.

“Yes, it was all just-” Ragatha caught her laugh and offered a moment of silence, before trying to continue in a shaking voice, “Just a misunderstaNdInG.”

Laughter erupted again, though it was more of a chaotic jumble of wheezes and heavy breathing between the bunny and the doll. It was a challenge for Gangle and Zooble not to feel left out, but they found themselves smiling at their friends who were finally blowing off some steam.

For whatever reason they were unaware of…

The laughter eventually died down as Caine enthusiastically explained the adventure he had cooked up for the crew. When he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, the team reluctantly divided themselves into groups of 2, purely based on whomever wanted to team up. The only two who didn’t team up willingly, was Kinger and Pomni, who were the last two left after Gangle clung to Zooble and Jax slide beside Ragatha.

They were chummy before, right? Who better to be paired together than the 2 local nutjobs?

There was a brief commotion of protest and complaining, before the teams departed and split up to perform the silly tasks that were set out to complete the adventure, as Caine described. It wasn’t long before the silence between the bunny and the doll was broken by Jax right after they lost sight of the others.

“So, Dollface, I didn’t take you as the blunt and forward type of gal!” Jax wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Unless it’s just ‘cause it’s me and I’m just too irresistible to be taken out to dinner first.”

“Oh, quiet you! I told you that it was a misunderstanding.” Ragatha blew him off, much to Jax’s dismay.

He pressed on with his signature grin fixed on his face, determined to understand, “You told Caine that. You didn’t tell me squat. So? Out with it! What were you looking at? Whattaya want, Doll?”

Ragatha sighed, much like a tired mother would, “It’s fine, Jax, it’s over now. We can leave it be.”

“Nuh uh, it ain’t over. We’re bringing it back, toots!” Jax dismissed her immediately.

But the doll didn’t seem to budge.

“You’d never be able to handle it! You’ll live with the eternal regret for even considering asking.”

Was that a challenge?

“Oh ho ho, darlin’…” Jax tone shifted to a menacing one, causing Ragatha to audibly gulp when he moved to stop her from walking on, looming over her, “You have no idea what you just started.”

She recovered quickly, thinking that Jax was messing around as he usually was, “Jax, we should forget it ever happened. I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

It turns out he was actually serious for once.

“What do you want, Ragatha?” Jax asked in an ominous tone, not giving the doll the chance to digest just how serious he was to use her full name.

It turns out was actually really, really serious for once.

“What does it matter?” the ragdoll breathed, hardly intimidated, yet greatly stunned.

“What do you mean ‘what does it matter?’” Jax shuffled closer to stand inches away, causing for the doll to crane her neck to look up at him, “When you beg for me with that pretty little eye of yours, what makes you think it wouldn’t matter?”

Ragatha felt the familiar rush of heat bite her cheeks as Jax blown pupils pinned her in place. His words could easily just be the words of the snake, but something within Ragatha’s depths wanted to believe that it was only the words of the man before her.

Her man.

“If I tell you what I want, you have to deal with the regret of knowing by yourself.” Ragatha spoke with a calm, steady voice as she prepared for the moment to wither away with the diminished sound of her future confession, “Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Jax murmured, not once breaking his gaze from her face.

Ragatha took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eyes, steeling herself for the disappointment to drag down his spirit. She took only a second longer to appreciate the churring sound of Jax’s teeth grinding within his mouth.

“Your hands.” Ragatha sighed in defeat, “I was looking at your hands.”

Jax didn’t stir or change his demeanor, silently processing the information, “My hands…”

Hands. What could she want with his hands?

Hands grab.

Hands carry.

Hands hold.

Hands touch…

Oh. Oh.

OH!

Realization must have washed over his face, because Ragatha allowed her head to fall forward in regret.

“Do you see now?” she asked with sorrow lacing her voice, “You regret knowing now.”

Jax was silent for a moment, only to softly speak up – almost to himself, “Do you know why I was late this morning?” a beat of silence, “I was dreaming about your hands too.”

Ragatha’s head flung itself up, to look at him in shock, but was met with the saddened expression of the bunny as he continued to speak, “In my dreams, I can’t get enough of them. I can’t get enough of your touch, Raggs.”

The doll’s eye started stinging with tears, but her face remained stuck in shock.

Jax wasn’t finished, “Seeing you enwrapped with Gangle makes me so happy, Raggs. I love seeing my girls take care of each other, but believe me when I tell you that I’m selfish enough to wish that you came to me instead – even if I can’t hold you like she can…”

The silence that followed, stretched a bridge between them.

The ragdoll blinked once before taking the chance to speak, “May I touch you right now? Please?”

More silence deafened them, but a lot was said in the looks they shared.

Jax sighed, bracing himself for the confusing tingles his doll tend to leave on his skin, “...Go on.”

Without knowing what to expect, Jax eyed the movements of her hands, only to see them fold into each other behind her back. The rabbit’s breath hitched as he saw the whole of Ragatha's body move closer to stand against his frame with her forehead resting right under his chin. He violently shivered when he felt the doll’s breath caress his upper chest.

His brain malfunctioned when he felt her soft, warm lips place a long, tender kiss on his sternum.

No itching. No tingles. No burning.

Fireworks.

He huffed out an aspirated breath and allowed his shaky hands to grab at her shoulders to keep her in place when he felt her hastily back away. He proceeded to wrap his arms around Ragatha and crush her against his body, as he did in his dreams, suffering the onslaught of firecrackers and sparks erupting from everywhere their bodies met. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and she could hear the thundering beats of his heart bashing to break free from its cage.

The sound that left his dolly’s mouth would haunt him for years to come and he couldn’t care less. For the first time since he was trapped in the Digital Circus, Jax was overwhelmed by the white-hot bliss of touch.

...Until it became all too much, all too soon.

And the dreaded itch crawled back into his skin, causing Jax to grab Ragatha’s shoulders again and harshly shove her back and away from him. The poor bunny was panting and trembling as he looked at Ragatha’s face in shock.

She was as frazzled as he was but she recovered quicker to tend to the poor, overstimulated bunny.

“I just want you to understand one thing.” Ragatha spoke between a few harsh breaths as she calmed down, “At times, I may need someone else's touch, but…”

Jax fought to focus his eyes on the woman before him – to indicate that she had his utmost attention, just before she blew all thoughts from his mind as she completed her sentence;

“I will always want you more than anything.”

She didn't need to say more, trusting that he understood her words perfectly.

Unlike a 'need', a 'want' can not be fulfilled.

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

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chans5oive · 2 years ago

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MASTERLIST

Key: 🦋 =fluff 🚙 = angst 😰= suggestive 🦕= fantasy au 🎭= crack🧍‍♀️= female reader 🕴️= gender neutral reader

Bangchan

🐋“once more (🕴️)” - summary: you and chan have been friends since childhood but what happens when those mutual feelings change? Word count: 971 🦋

🐋 “i just wanna get high with my lover (implied 🧍‍♀️)” - summary: getting ready for a night out with chan. Word count: 360 🦋🚙

🐋 “city of stars. (🕴️) - summary: chan was to preform city of stars with felix and lia however last minute they needed 2 people to waltz along to the song however the nearest idols where you and Intak. Word count: 896🦋🚙

🐋 “moments when chan knew he loved you” (🧍‍♀️) - summary: moments when chan knew you were the one Word count: 469 🦋

Lee know

🐋 “queen of hearts (alice in borderland au) (implied 🧍‍♀️) ” - summary: you’ve been fighting for what felt like years making friends and a partner along the way. Now it’s the final stage, the queen of hearts. Who knows what will occur. Word count: 1,531 🚙 🦕 - yet to be released

Changbin

🐋 “ragdoll (🕴️) “ - summary: Changbin loves to pick you up whenever wherever. Word count: 228 🦋

Hyunjin

🐋 “being a music producer and helping hyunjin edit a song (🕴️)- summary: chan asked the rest of straykids to produce a track on there own however hyunjin was at an advantage because he had a producer s/o. Word count: 337 🦋

🐋 “[14:38] (🕴️)” - summary: Spring had sprung so you and hyunjin took a walk along the Cheonggyecheon river together. Word count: 233 🦋

Han

🐋 “Spiderman au! Jisung x reader (implied 🧍‍♀️)” - summary: you and jisung went to the same stayville high him excelling in science whilst you excel music however never meeting. Until, your chem teacher pair you up for a project. Your friendship closens and after a while secrets get revealed as a possible relationship arises…. Word count: 1,739 🦋tiny bit🚙

🐋 “class clown (🕴️)” - summary: You were a known class clown and so was Jisung however you felt a sense of rivalry. For jisung? Not so much. Word count: 1,247 🦋 - yet to be released

🐋 “Jisung teaching you guitar (🕴️) - summary: Jisung teaches you guitar. Word count: 271 🦋

Felix

🐋 “Video games 🎮 (��️)- summary: felix and that damn apex 😒 Word count: 597 🦋🎭

Seungmin

🐋 “Puppy love (🕴️)” - summary: Seungmin had puppy like looks and you had the personality of a puppy. Together? One giant puppy. Word count: 639 🦋

Jeongin

🐋 “i hate everyone…but you (🕴️)” - summary: jeongin was known for his lack of affection. However, that all changed when he met you. Word count: 348 🦋

🐋 “sugar rush ride (🧍‍♀️)” - summary: Txt and Skz have always been close but what happens when the two maknaes get a little closer. Word count: 989 🦋 brief 🚙

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wannaberp · 5 months ago

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— WHO IS FUJISAWA SAKUYA?

he's an EIGHTEEN year old wannabe, born DECEMBER 17, 2005. he's currently UNDECIDED regarding companies and lives by the words “out of your vulnerabilities will come your strength.”

maybe you should learn more or ask him a question.

▶ PLAY THE CLIP [ harsh_critique.mp4 ]

"stop, stop, stop."

he exhales harshly, sweat dripping from his brow as sneakers squeak against the linoleum. sharp eyes cut over to where the form of his sister stood, hands on her hips and expression disapproving. she looks more put together then himself, hair slicked back into a ponytail, not a strand out of place. she probably hadn't of even broken a sweat despite the intensity of the choreography. his jaw clenches in annoyance.

"how do you expect to ever become a trainee this way? hell, even a full fledged idol again? are you even trying to move on beat? you're all over the place right now. you're supposed to be a seasoned idol, sakuya. do better."

her scolding has his brows furrowing, standing to his full height as he looks down at her. he respects his elder sister immensely despite the burning jealously that he holds deep inside. he should still be in her position, shuffling from schedule to schedule, meeting fans and singing his heart out on stage. instead he's trembling under the weight of his own lack of training, body all limbs that he still hasn't fully grown into. he feels sick.

'do better.' what is better for him? was better busking like his life depended on it, scrambling to find a sense of self again? was better bed-rotting and watching old clips of performances of a younger him, bright eyed and full of life? was better this now, training with his sister who took the time out of the limited break she was given to come assist her washed up, snot-nosed little brother?

"i'm trying," he all but whines, a petulant sound, something only she can pull out of him. "it's been, like, two fucking years-"

"language!"

"-two freaking years since i had to do choreo and it was nothing like... like this bullshit." he waves his arm around in a vague motion and she sighs, something cutting and displeased. he feels out of his body, watching himself stumble and jerk around like a ragdoll. it stings, her disapproval. he wants to be good, again. worthy.

"this "bullshit" is what separates the people who dream of debuting and those who actually do," she tells him, turning and tapping the screen of her phone, turning off the song they were practicing to. he watches her with a almost helpless expression, fingers curling and flexing as if he could somehow stabilize himself despite it feeling like everything was coming apart. "you can't say you want this and then not do anything to improve or show you actually do. if you think you can just jump around on stage like you used to and not put in any real effort, we can end practice here. i don't want to waste my time on someone who won't even put forth his best after all the complaints he's given that he wants this."

he flinches at her tone and feels small, somehow, despite being heads bigger then her. she doesn't bother to turn and look at him, as if she was already dismissing him. what was his worth, now? what could he be now, when it felt like almost all his chances were slim to none? when he looks at himself in the expansive mirror of the borrowed practice room, all his mind projects back are fleshy cheeks and big eyes. thirteen year old him looks as anxious as he feels. so young but already wondering if he will even be good enough. wondering if he will be passed up on a opportunity to do the only thing he knows he can do right. the only thing he loves. he hates looking at that version of himself. he can be better.

he has to.

"play it again," he says to her, voice soft, tinged with something bitter. their gazes meet and he takes in how she looks at him through the mirror, eyes dark and intense. he's not sure what she sees when she stares at him for those few long moments. he hopes she sees something more then he sees in himself. hopes that she can't see the fear of being impossibly not good enough deep down reflected in his eyes.

but then she presses play again, the music filters in, and he makes his body move.

#be: accepted #nishimura riki #enhypen

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 1 year ago

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Nights Are For Nightmares And Contemplation

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 25. Set during RttE’s ‘Enemy Of My Enemy’. Dagur has a nightmare caused by the events of the day and it causes him a moment of contemplation.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Dagur

Pairing: /

Words: 1 325

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Nightmares, Flashbacks

Whumpee: Dagur, Hiccup

Author’s Notes: This is the idea that originally inspired Day 12, 'Numb.' If you still remember what that one was about, I'm sure you'll see when exactly I got the idea. :')

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

Alone on a ship, Dagur startles awake. He’s covered in a layer of cold sweat, his heart races, and his breathing is shallow. He pants and rises, sitting up in bed with his legs thrown over the edge. He tries to regain his composure, but it’s difficult. With a hand, he grasps at his tunic.

A nightmare is what put him in this state and Hiccup had played the lead role.

He used to dream of him for three years while he was trapped in the dungeons on Outcast Island. Some were violent- typical for the old Dagur- but some were good, a little too good. These were the kinds he certainly won’t be telling his brother about.

But the nightmare he just had, it is nothing like any of the dreams he’s had before, whether good or bad.

It felt so real… He was watching himself sleep when a dark figure walked into the room. Another stood in the darkest corner of the captain’s quarters he is in. There was something familiar about the both of them. The first figure approached the bed soundlessly, climbed up on top of him, and raised a dagger high above their head before plunging it into his heart. It was a quiet assassination, the only sounds were his breathless gasps. Blood pooled in his body, in the bed beneath him, flooded from his lips. And then he died. The second figure simply watched it happen.

Dagur feels like he knows those figures, he knows which two people in his life they’re supposed to represent.

His siblings, Hiccup and Heather.

It’s quite likely that his dream tonight has been caused by the events of the day. Hiccup and Toothless crash landed on his lonely little island where he was spending his days in quiet exile and contemplation. The latter got hit by a dragon root arrow and Hiccup was in danger of facing a ship full of Dragon Hunters all by himself, they were the ones who had shot them down. Dagur decided to help him out, keep his brother from being caught and worse.

He tried his best, but it hadn’t ended well. The antidote for Toothless’ Dragonroot poisoning had particularly horrible side-effects on Night Furies, something they all found out the hard way. Hiccup did not take it well, believing that it was all a part of his scheme to finally kill his beloved dragon. It ended in them getting caught by the Hunters they were hoping to avoid.

But it wasn’t any of that that must’ve caused the nightmare he just had. It must be how they were caught.

Reeling in shock from Toothless’ screeches of pain, Hiccup turned towards Dagur and screamed at him that he would kill him.

And then he tried very hard to succeed.

He got violent. His outrage dragged them down a river, away from Toothless, but even after being thrown around like ragdolls by the wild current, Hiccup still saw red.

A fight happened, Hiccup ended up on top of Dagur.

His hands around his throat.

And he squeezed until Dagur could no longer breathe.

Dagur gasps thinking about it, the memories intrusive as they claw their way back in. The way Hiccup had glared at him, eyes dark with hatred and brimming with tears from believing he lost Toothless. If the Hunters hadn’t found them in time, Dagur fully believes he wouldn’t be here tonight, suffering in the aftermath.

He caused that. The pain his brother felt, that anger… if it was anyone else who gave Toothless the antidote, he would not have reacted nearly as severely, he would have trusted the process. But because it was Dagur, he drew the conclusion that he finally killed his dragon after such a long time of trying and it sent him right over the edge.

Somehow, Dagur finds it in himself to lie back down, though sleep will escape him for the rest of the night. He stares up at the ceiling, spotting the cracks and spots in the wood.

This is why he left the Hunters, the Berserkers, and decided to do better. Because both of his siblings, one by blood and the other found, were out for his life at least once and he can’t blame them for that. After every wrong committed against them, he should honestly call himself lucky to be alive today. Today, he can still do something about it.

He needs to do better, be better.

Hiccup and Heather need their big brother in order to heal.

-XOXOX-

As far as Toothless knows, Hiccup just woke up from a nightmare. It woke him up, too. It is hard to stay asleep when your sensitive hearing picks up on a yelp followed by panicked breaths.

The dragon barely got to raise his head to check up on his Rider when said Rider already wrapped his arms around his neck, knees kneeling on his stone bed.

And now here they are; completely still.

Toothless is afraid to move, not wanting to give Hiccup incentive to pull away. His arms are around him, squeezing, his face pressed into his scales and his breathing barely under control. He doesn’t know what he was dreaming about, but he can guess it has something to do with the events of today. Events Hiccup neglected to share with the rest of the Riders.

They couldn’t hide the fact that the Night Fury was still a little under the weather and so they did tell them about the Hunters, but Dagur was never mentioned. Astrid gave Hiccup an earful about not looking after his dragon well enough and Toothless about how he should stop enabling Hiccup so much. Then she sent them both to bed. It did happen to be quite late when they all finally got back.

They and the other Dragon Riders, who were searching for them ever since Astrid realized Hiccup and Toothless left this morning without her.

But a lot has happened today and Toothless is not sure if just one of those things is the cause or all of them combined.

As he contemplates, Hiccup tries his best to calm down. He was never much of a crier, but the tears refuse to stop coming and he is not very successful at getting his breathing under control either.

He cannot stop thinking about today, about the things that happened. Toothless got shot with a dragon root arrow because of him, he suffered the antidote because of him, but worst of all… He tried to kill Dagur.

He can still remember the rage. The way it filled him in an instant, how his blood boiled within his veins, when red was all he saw, and that there was only one thought in his mind; kill Dagur.

For all he'd done to him, his friends, for finally succeeding in killing Toothless.

But that was not what was actually happening. His dragon just had a bad reaction to the dragon root antidote and Dagur was genuinely trying to help for once. Just as when he was telling him that his yearning of vengeance for what Viggo Grimborn had done and was doing would eat him alive from the inside.

And it is. Because if it wasn't… maybe he would not have reacted so violently. In hindsight, he remembers Dagur begging for Hiccup to listen to him, but he had not listened, he was too angry to.

If he actually succeeded… Gods, he doesn’t want to think about it.

The thought feels suffocating, he squeezes his dragon’s neck as if that will make it all better. It’s like he’s trying to squeeze the thoughts out.

It doesn’t work. Not even when Toothless pulls him closer and wraps his forelegs around him to return the embrace.

Because Dagur is right. Vengeance eats a person alive. Viggo is changing him and he is not sure if there is a way back if he lets him.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptober #day 25 #httyd fics #httyd movies #rtte #race to the edge #hiccup haddock #hiccup whump #toothless #hicctooth #dagur the deranged #dagur whump #my fanfics #Nights Are For Nightmares And Contemplation

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casicroaks · 7 months ago

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At the insistence of his new friends, Woody finally opens up about his life previous to Andy. Meanwhile, as Bo discovers there was so much that was left unsaid between them, she resolves to follow his example -and tell him what she truly went through, between being taken to a new family and finding her own capacity for independence.

CHAPTER 5

[ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4 // CHAPTER 5 // CHAPTER 6 // CHAPTER 7 // CHAPTER 8 // CHAPTER 9 // CHAPTER 10 // CHAPTER 11 // CHAPTER 12 ]

The relative safety the toys of Jenny's room had been enjoying had now been shattered. The next spring cleaning was devastating: Polly, Annie-Lou and the three babes were immediately put into a cardboard box, closed and taped and taken to donate. Barbara Ann had the unenviable job to keep everyone's anxieties at bay, to prevent total chaos from taking over. Felicity, who had been close to the two ragdolls, had to postpone her grieving to help her girlfriend, but it was something that everyone felt –the sudden loss of their friends, in the most painful way: without not even a goodbye.

The horses knew they were next. And, sure enough, all of them –not even Barbara Ann could have expected that –all six of them were put into another box, also taken to donate. So few people remained that the mourning was not only allowed but it had become almost the normal way to behave. Barbara Ann sat by the place where Bella would sleep, her eyes on the carpet, as if, if she tried hard enough, she could see his shadow there again. Besides those few moments, Felicity and Barbara Ann spent all their time together, holding hands, embracing the other. Woody's heart hurt when he saw them, both making their best efforts to console the other.

"At least they were taken all together," said Felicity. "Right? Leguizamo, Bella, Ginger, Whitelace, Hazel, Smithy… They were all together when they left. They have each other to rely on, until they're given to someone new."

Barbara Ann nodded quietly.

"And the three babes… At least they have Polly and Annie-Lou to keep them company. At least they have each other."

Barbara Ann held Felicity's hand tighter.

Woody, by his part, would spend silent moments with Sophie, who now had lost any enthusiasm for fixing or sewing or doing anything to pass the time. Everything felt somehow still, as if they were now only waiting for the moment to be separated from the rest. Woody held Sophie's flat hand in his, in a modest attempt at comforting. Sophie didn't seem to realize. She had dozed off, her eyes gazing at somewhere in the distance. It had been just playtime, of course, but still Woody felt protective toward the small doll: after all those years of playing the roles he did feel as if she was, somehow, his family, as if she was truly his niece, little Sophie Pride.

"You needn't be afraid," Woody had told her. "I'm absolutely sure a nice kid will see you and fall in love with you. You're cute as a button –it would be real silly if someone didn't get you as soon as they saw you."

Sophie didn't seem afraid at all, just tired.

One night, during Felicity and Barbara Ann's date by the windowsill, Woody listened carefully what they were saying. The toy box had already been thrown away, replaced by a state-of-the-art music player. The remaining toys were now all set in shelves, apart from each other by thick textbooks and novels. While Jenny was away, they would try to climb down and meet by the carpet, where they would sometimes talk –but mostly just stay together, keeping the other company.

That particular night, as Jenny slept, Barbara Ann and Felicity conversed quietly. Woody just barely turned his head to listen more closely. He didn't get everything they talked about, but he did hear some of it –what mostly interested him to know:

"… How long do you think it'll be until we're separated?" asked Barbara Ann.

"My love, please, don't…"

"I mean it. What will we do, then?"

"I won't leave you. If Jenny decides she'll dispose of you, I'll go with you."

"Don't be silly, Felicity… You're clean, and soft. Any girl'd love to keep you as a toy for their baby."

"I don't want to be a baby's toy –I want to be yours."

"Felicity…"

"I'll decide what to do with myself. Don't you love me?"

"'Course I do –I just think that you oughta keep an open mind –you'd get bored of me someday, and you'd wish you had taken the chance to be someone's toy 'n be played again."

Felicity sighed, leaning onto Barbara Ann's shoulder.

"If I stayed with you, I wouldn't mind never being played again with," said Felicity.

Barbara Ann scoffed. "You say that now…"

"I'm sure of it. And you know that when I make my mind up, nothing'll change it."

Barbara Ann leaned her head against her girlfriend's. "I know that, my love."

"So? Do you believe me?"

There was a moment of silence. Woody kept still, wondering if the conversation was truly over.

"… New dolls are made every day. Why would I be seen as attractive to a child who could have a brand new Barbie –a prettier one –a more fashionable one?" muttered Barbara Ann. "I don't think Jenny'll want to keep me."

"Why wouldn't she?" exclaimed Felicity. "You're her favorite! You've been her favorite since she's been in kindergarten!"

"So? That didn't seem to matter, when she took Bella away…"

"Come on, Barb. Jenny'll love you forever."

"No she won't. She's already forgotten me. And even if she keeps loving me… That doesn't mean she'll want me around forever."

Barbara Ann turned to look at Felicity.

"Do you promise that, if I'm taken, you'll follow me?" the bandit asked her.

"Yes. I'll follow you wherever you go."

Barbara Ann took a deep breath. "… Then, if you're taken, I'll follow you too."

After that Woody heard nothing more –he didn't want to –it embarrassed him, the amount of undying loyalty they held for each other. It felt almost earth-shattering, appalling, the possibility of just leaving their kid. The anger and outrage he had experienced when Barbara Ann had first rejected the chance of being held by her girl, after years of being not played with, in order to spend time with her girlfriend, was resurfacing. If Jenny wanted to keep Barbara Ann and dispose of Felicity, it would be ridiculous to give up that chance to be played again –to follow another toy into an uncertain future. And Woody had to admit to himself that, no matter how much he loved Sophie, if given the choice, he'd rather stay within the family –on a shelf, or in a box, or wherever Jenny would storage him.

In the end, shortly after Sophie was found and donated, it was Felicity's turn to be taken. Jenny spent a brief moment with her –to touch her hair, her painted features, her floral dress, which had been hand sewn by Jenny's mother. Jenny had smiled tenderly –she surely had good memories of her –and yet that didn't stop her from putting her in a box along with old storybooks and dollhouse furniture, turning for a moment to pick up some tape to close it, and sealing it and taking her away from the bedroom for good.

And only Woody had noticed how Barbara Ann, barely giving herself a second to reconsider, had slipped inside the box just before Jenny had taped it. As soon as Jenny left the room he jumped off the shelf and hurried to the window, where he saw Jenny carrying the box, getting into a car and driving away. The whole affair had lasted just five, maybe ten minutes. And in that short a time more than ten years had gone by. He'd never argue with Barbara Ann again, nor ride Ginger into an imagined sunset and tell him about the latest TV episodes, nor save Sophie from some dastardly plan… They were as good as dead.

So Woody, despite all his assumptions, remained the only toy left in Jenny's room.

Some more time went on. Woody went back to his old ways; if he managed to be completely sure there was nobody home, he'd get down his shelf and go downstairs and watch TV, but even that became old fast –the new shows were extremely boring, and the news were filled with awful events he didn't want to see, and even cartoons were uninteresting to him anymore. If he was lucky, Woody would catch a rerun of an old episode of some show he used to like, but those times were few and far between. And then, up the stairs, down the stairs, listen carefully, and Woody wondered how long this would go on like this –he would spend long stretches of time remembering past playtimes, remembering Davy and Jenny and Billy, but he went through those memories so many times even those –to his horror –lost a bit of their magical charm.

"Mom!" called Jenny, one weekend afternoon, out of a sudden.

"Yes, dear?" answered her mother from the kitchen.

Jenny had one of the old notebooks in her hand. She walked into her bedroom, looked around the shelves –gave a single, brief glance to Woody, not even a real acknowledging –and then searched inside boxes, in drawers, anywhere where something could be kept. "Have you seen Barr?"

"Barr?"

"Y'know, my old Barbie doll…" said Jenny, rushing back downstairs. "The bandit doll."

"Ah, yes. Didn't you leave her on your shelf over the desk?"

"Yeah, but she's not there anymore!"

"Then maybe she was in the old toy box—"

"No, she wasn't –I emptied it before throwing it away."

"Well, I didn't take it, Jenny," said Mom. "Look harder. I don't think you'd have taken it outside your room."

Jenny hurried back to her room again. She cleared the shelves –leaving Woody on the carpet, barely giving him a glance of recognition –and opened old boxes, forgotten drawers, even looked under the bed. Woody didn't expect her to dedicate more than a few minutes to the search, but an hour later she was still trying to find Barbara Ann, taking her clothes out the closet, looking inside, in the dark nooks and crannies where she knew she wouldn't have left her toy –but nonetheless checked, just in case, to be sure. When Jenny stopped –panting, her hair in a messy ponytail, with a look of complete befuddlement on her face –she now had a mess of a room, all turned upside down –but with no doll to be found.

Jenny sat on the bed, taking a break from the search. She breathed. Woody, still on the carpet, could see –he hated Barbara Ann for this –how Jenny's eyes had begun to swell with tears. She sobbed quietly, shamefully, rubbing her eyes –trying to dry the tears before they managed to roll onto her reddened cheeks. Woody was fuming. How could a toy do this –actively harm their kid? They were made to comfort them, to be loved –not to run away, to make them cry.

Even as an adult, Jenny cried just like she did when she was a little girl.

And Woody could only think that, in the end, Barbara Ann Barlow truly was the most wicked, foulest criminal of all.

That anger kept him distracted for a few days –it was all he had to think about, truly, besides the boredom Woody had to withstand until he was taken off the shelf, and the reminiscences he was afraid to return to too often. He thought of everything he would say to Barbara Ann if he could, how much she would sob and tell him that he was right. He didn't want to think about Felicity, or what she would say about that –so he didn't. All Woody dedicated himself to, for as long as he was capable of, was to ruminate on the indignation that was that doll's abandoning of her kid.

And so the news caught him by surprise: Jenny and Billy had married.

Woody didn't see the ceremony, of course, but he could clearly hear the clamor the guests made during a little party made at home, where everyone brought food and wine and congratulated the happy couple. He could have easily gotten down his shelf and gotten a peek of the party. And yet… It was a glum occasion for him, despite all the whooping and the music and the joy that didn't seem to end even as it went on well past midnight. He was happy that Jenny and Billy had fallen in love –and that they had a great time –and, what particularly concerned him, that there was the chance they'd have children someday, someone he could be played again with. However, knowing that he'd may be have to spend so many years waiting –one could think that after that first time, it would be easier, but Woody was very much not looking forward to it. He berated himself, telling himself that he had been the only toy Jenny had left –he should be grateful –he should be glad! But Woody was just feeling anxious.

A few days later Jenny and Billy came into her room –both looked so tall –and began packing things for moving. They had managed to start paying for a new house, where they could live on their own, maybe even start a family.

"Hey –remember these?" asked Billy, smiling wide, holding their old story notebooks. Jenny chuckled.

"Of course I do…"

"D'you wanna keep them?"

"Yeah… I don't know what I'd do with them, but I guess it'll be nice to reread some of them once I'm old and bitter."

Billy laughed. "I'll still love you, no matter how old and bitter you get…"

"Well, that's a relief, dear."

They already called each other dear… A lot had indeed happened while Woody hadn't been there to see their relationship develop.

"Wait… Is this—?"

Billy had found the little handmade notebook with the horse-patterned cardboard dustjacket he had given Jenny for her tenth birthday. It was a bit worn, but other than a few tiny stains and the yellowing pages inside, it looked almost the same as it did when she had unwrapped it, more than ten years ago.

"You made it –can't you recognize it?" joked Jenny.

"It's… Kind of empty," said Billy, leafing through it.

"I liked it too much to write anything in it," said Jenny, a bit embarrassed. "You know, it's like with your favorite stickers… You're never sure of where to put them." Jenny took it and gave it a short, loving glance before putting in inside the cardboard box. "I thought I could only write something really good in it –something great, something you may have liked to read."

"You could've written anything in there," said Billy. "Your friends' phone numbers, even a grocery list… That would've made me pretty happy –just you writing something in it."

Jenny turned and cocked her head, with a big goofy smile. "Now don't go being all corny now…"

Billy laughed again. He had an easy, contagious laugh. Jenny picked the little notebook and saved it in her pocket.

"If you insist, then I'll use it –probably to make the accounting for our taxes," she said.

"That'd be an honor."

They kept picking things, turning them to see them from different angles, and asking each other if it would be of any use. Jenny piled all the notebooks, where she had compiled her stories for years, and categorized which she would keep for posterity and which were too cringeworthy. Billy had been emptying the shelves, putting the books onto piles according to their genre, when he finally came across Woody.

"Oh my god –look who I found!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Jenny laughed. "Well I'll be damned… If it isn't our sheriff."

"Wow, it's been a minute…"

Both got closer, with smiles in their faces, to look at him.

"He's kind of dusty…" said Billy.

"Yeah, I forgot about him…"

"Will you take him with us?"

Jenny looked at Billy and chuckled, but didn't answer. She examined him carefully, taking off his hat, turning it, searching for any scratches, and fitting it again on his plastic head, straightening his sheriff badge, looking for any ripped seams or large stains. She turned him around, and Billy pulled his string, and Woody said There's a snake in my boot! Both of them both laughed quietly.

"Sounds good," said Billy. "Pretty good for his age."

"Perhaps you can give it to your dad –since he's such a big fan…" said Jenny.

"What would he do with it?"

"I don't know –you told me he has a lunchbox of him or something…"

Jenny sat on her bed. Billy, with his arms crossed, leaned against the now empty bookshelves, watching the toy intently, while she blew on his dusty hat –wiped it off his golden badge –and, with one of the wet rags she'd brought for cleaning, wiped Woody's plastic head and boots. She sighed.

"Well, he's in pretty good shape…"

"What're you going to do, then?"

"I don't know."

"I think we should keep him," said Billy. "He's an antique, after all. Who knows, perhaps in a few years he'll become a collector's item…"

"Billy, I'm being serious here. Do you think we'd find a use for him? I don't want to carry things we don't need…"

"He was your dad's, or so you told me… Doesn't it hold any sentimental value for you?"

"Of course it does…" she said with a scoff. "Doesn't he hold any for you, too?"

Billy smiled. "Yeah, I guess he does."

"… Sometimes I can't believe we've really been friends for so long…" commented Jenny, looking down at the toy. "Time goes by so fast…"

Billy sat on the bed, by her side. Jenny rested Woody on her lap.

"I wish I could have kept Barr… Still, to this day, I have no idea where on Earth I've left her… I thought I may find her while emptying the place, but nothing…"

Jenny sighed. Billy kissed her temple. She laughed nervously.

"God, it's so dumb to miss a toy so much…"

"Would you keep her, now?" he asked softly. "Even if she wasn't something you'd need?"

She turned to him, and they exchanged a brief look, before she looked back down at the cowboy toy.

"I'm not gonna throw him away," declared Jenny. "I wouldn't do that to dad."

Billy stood up. "So, attic it is?"

"Yeah –maybe we can give it to your sister, if she ever has kids…"

Billy smiled and nodded, picking up the box labeled "ATTIC". Jenny gazed at him for a moment more, and smiled, too.

Woody hadn't been in a cardboard box for quite a white. There he was laid, among the many notebooks, trinkets, old drawings and children's books that Jenny had decided to keep. The box was closed –there was only a long straight sliver of light –and then the sound of tape being pulled, and the box was shut and dark.

The box was picked after maybe an hour, and put somewhere, probably a car –there was the humming of a motor, and they were off –there were the bumping of other boxes –and Woody wondered how many other toys would be there in the attic, if perhaps any of Billy's old little cowboys –or even maybe Filbert himself, the old chum –would be there along him for their long time in storage.

The car parked –the box was picked up –and up some stairs –and up some other stairs –and finally the trip was over, the box was left on something sturdy, and the noises stopped.

That was all. Woody didn't know what he was expecting, but it had been a lot quicker and painless than he had thought it could be. Now, he thought with a sigh, the thing was breaking free from the box.

It was pitch dark inside the box, of course, so he had to fumble his way to freedom. Woody tried to find something that could be of use –maybe some earring with which to pierce the tape, or a pen, or something of the sort. He found nothing he could pick up easily; besides, as he reminded himself, he had to take care of what he grabbed at all –he wouldn't give himself the opportunity to break anything that Jenny had wanted to keep.

After quite some time, and rather desperate by that point, he directly poked the sticky long piece of tape that he could manage to reach with his own fingers, pushing as hard as he could to rip it open. It took a while –no matter how much he pushed it was quite firmly stuck, and he had to take a few breaks to catch his breath before continuing –but finally he could rip the edge of the tape from the corner of the box; he then stretched his arm out of the box through the small hole, and ripped the rest of the tape, pulling it and climbing out of the box –and took a deep breath of relief.

Woody coughed. The air was musty and dust-ridden. The smell was not too bad, but it was constant and even when he got used to it, sometimes he noticed it again –suddenly –and had to cough again. It was so dark there was no knowing which way to go –so when he walked tentatively to what he guessed was forward, he fell off the box –or was it a pile of boxes? Woody hit the ground and groaned. He stood up, still coughing from the dust he had disturbed. He raised his hands, blinking, trying to get used to the dark and maybe see something –but there was no light, none at all, and no way of seeing, even after a long time opening his eyes and trying very hard to fix his stare on something, anything, and distinguish a shape or silhouette.

"Hello?"

It was the obvious first thing to do in a new, strange place.

There was no answer.

There were, however, some sounds –strange sounds –that no matter how much he tried to remember, he didn't have any frame of reference to connect or associate them to. Again, Woody stayed still for a while, listening carefully, in an attempt to identify any of them. He ended up with nothing.

By this point he was understandably frustrated and tired. Woody leant on the floor and tried to sleep a bit –the unidentifiable sounds made it rather difficult –and at some point he woke up –or he thought he had woken up –and nothing had changed, so there was no way to know how long or if he had slept at all.

"Well… I hope that won't turn into a problem," sighed Woody, pretty sure already that this speaking to himself thing would become usual soon.

When he had felt he had rested enough, Woody began to explore the attic. It was a huge challenge, as he soon realized: even while groping his way forward, feeling the space with his hands, leaning on the walls of boxes around him, there was nothing to find. It was just floor, walls, a corner, a turning, more walls, more floor, more darkness, no light, no light at all.

Woody, for some reason he didn't even know, had thought it would be like his time on the shelf, in Davy's studio: but this was much, much worse. He saw nothing, nobody, there was almost no way to measure time or distances. No matter how much he paced around, he never became fully certain of how big the attic was, or how to navigate it. It was nightmarish, a labyrinth in the dark, with no way out, just hundreds of corridors for him to walk, to go nowhere.

Even if he had no way to know it, time did go on, though how much or how long was anyone's guess. After some chances he had given the attic to surprise him, Woody had decided to stay in one spot –wait there, as if he was on the shelf –still, bored but at least not deeply exasperated and dizzy.

And then, even being still didn't help him.

Sometimes he woke up –or came out of a daze, it was hard to tell –and the floor of the attic would vibrate. At first Woody was pretty certain it was just his imagination –why would the floor vibrate? It made no sense! But then it would vibrate again, and he began wondering if his perception was so disturbed already that he was not only imagining but feeling fully, with no doubt, that the floor was vibrating. Then, sometimes, it would gradually mutate from a steady short movement, like the one when he was taken and had first arrived in the box, to a full blown earthquake; Woody would trip and there'd be a feeling of there now being up or down; when he fell he fell for a long while, from the floor to the side of a box to the floor again and to the harder walls of the attic. He was almost constantly dizzy, and so he tried his best not to move –to close his eyes –but it made no difference anymore. So he'd pace –since it would be the same –around the boxes, walking to keep himself in movement, and sometimes he'd hit a wall and groan and even cuss a bit, and try to walk through other path –and suddenly fall, as if he had missed a step in the stairs –and he'd fall on his face and groan and cuss a bit more. Woody would also run –increasing the chances to hit himself in the face, but what the heck, what difference did that make –just to run around, to do something, and when he stopped he would have difficult to breathe, so he stayed still –and the dizziness came back.

And when Woody thought he had completely, definitely, had gone absolutely mad, there was a miracle –a creaking –he could recognize the creaking –and suddenly –light. He stared at it for a moment, in pure shock, and then played dead –Billy was coming from below, with another light in his hand. He ducked his head –he was so tall –and looked around for a moment, lighting nooks and crannies –and Woody, from behind one of the many boxes, saw the simply mesmerizing amount of boxes he had been crashing against for what seemed like ages.

Billy found what he was searching: a large cardboard box, a bit bigger than most of the other ones. He picked it up, huffing and grunting from the effort.

"Hey, dear –can you give me a hand?" he says, looking down.

Slowly he brought the box down with him –Woody thought he had heard Jenny's voice, though he didn't understand what she had said to her husband –and, for a moment, he saw the large box in the light –it said "CHRISTMAS" in large black letters on the side.

Billy went down the stairs and closed the door of the attic. In a matter of seconds everything was back to how it was before –pitch black, and all sounds were still mysterious.

So it was Christmas already. Woody's immediate thought went to whether there would be a toy gifted this year, and he chuckled.

"It's true what they say about old habits…"

He had to talk to himself, otherwise he pictured he may forget how to do so.

Anyways, the fact that it was Christmas was good news: time hadn't stopped, it was passing, and it hadn't been just two days of him going crazy. A year had gone by –more or less –he didn't quite remember when it was that he first arrived to the attic, but it sure as heck wasn't near winter.

And so Woody waited. What else could he do? Once he tried to open a box –perhaps there could be a toy in there, someone to talk to, anything at all –but in the end he was too uneasy about opening more boxes –since, after all, Jenny and Billy would notice it, and wonder how it had happened, and maybe assume there were rats there or something of the sort.

The light, once again, caught him by surprise. This time Jenny opened the door of the attic –yellow light flooded the whole place, casting shadows behind the boxes –and the big cardboard box was settled again on the hard floor. Jenny left, and so did the light.

But this time Woody had a plan. He remembered which way to go –he ran as fast as he could –felt the worn walls of the Christmas cardboard box –searched for the top –and quickly pulled it open.

"Hello?" he asked. "Is there anyone here?"

There was a silence. Woody frowned, panting from the running.

"Please… Please, answer," he begged. "I'm a toy! I'm a toy, like you!"

There was a strange sound –but one which he could recognize as mumbling.

"Is he?"

"I cannot tell…"

"He must not be a man…"

"No man stays here in the dark…"

"No man, no man…"

Woody chuckled, slightly nervous. "… What?"

Out of a sudden –he felt things gripping his hand –climbing on it –and he screamed, and fell to the floor –and tried to shake them off him –but there were many, and they were holding tight onto him –and he tried to hit them against the outside of the box—

"Stop!" said a loud, booming voice. "Stop, for everything that's good on this Earth!"

Woody stopped moving, and so did the things that had startled him.

"Come, my children… Come to me. Come back where we belong," said the booming voice.

The things slowly moved away from him, supposedly back into the box.

"Wait –wait! Who are you?" said Woody. "Please, answer me –I'm all here alone!"

There was only the gentle tapping of the little things, moving, drumming on the floor, on the cardboard. There was also a soft rustle of fabric, and a short yawn.

"Come to me too, my child," the booming voice said. "Come. So you will never be alone."

Woody hesitated. This all sounded very unsettling and more than a little suspicious. But then again, what did he have to lose? And what else would he do?

He approached the source of the voice. There was the big cardboard box –he felt it, the edge, where he accidentally stumbled against one of the little things –and, slowly, one foot after the other, he climbed inside the box.

"Now, my child," said the voice. "Do you know who I am?"

"Um… No, I'm sorry, mister," said Woody. "As you can imagine, I can't see in the dark."

"I am Saint Nicholas, the bringer of gifts, the patron of everything that is wholesome, familiar, warm, generous and loving," said the voice. "I… am Santa Claus."

There was a high pitched cheering and clapping. Woody wondered if this was the ultimate confirmation that he had lost the last marbles he had.

"And I welcome you, oh mister…"

"Um –Woody –sheriff Woody Pride," said Woody.

"Mister sheriff Woody Pride, it is an honor to meet you. And I hope you can be happy here, with us, until the next grand festivity arrives."

A hand grabbed his ear –then his shoulder –then went down and gripped his hand for a firm handshake.

"I –I'm sorry, I don't get…"

"Be respectful!"

"Don't talk to Him like that!"

"Behold, your King! Before him lowly bend!"

"He is our saint!"

"Our Father Christmas!"

"Joy to the world! Joy to the world! Joy to the world!"

Santa Claus laughed. Woody felt the little things –the Christmas decorations, he guessed –climbing onto his back again.

"What man is this?"

"Not a man! A toy!"

"Oh, a gift!"

"A present!"

"Hark! Hark! Hark, a present!"

"Yes, my children, a present," said Santa Claus, a smile in his voice. Just by the size of his hand, Woody deduced that this Santa Claus was larger than the rest of the small decorations. "A present, for some lucky child—"

Reach for the sky!, said Woody's voicebox. He gasped –something was on his back, pulling his string.

"Hey! Hey –don't touch that!" said Woody, trying to reach his back. There was giggling and even some biting. "Ouch! Hey –Mr Claus –can you stop your… your children from…?"

"Come, children, let us sleep," ordered Santa Claus. "We have a long night ahead of us, til the next birth."

"Yes! We live, we die –we live, we die …!"

"O long holy night!"

"O night divine!"

"O silent night…"

The Christmas decorations kept repeating these phrases as they climbed off Woody once more, and they repeated them quieter, quieter, until there was no sound left.

"May you sleep with us, Mister Sheriff?" asked Santa Claus, now in a softer, low voice. "My children don't mind the weight on their small shoulders."

"I'd… I'd rather not," said Woody. "But I'd like to talk to you…"

Santa Claus laughed. "Oh, Mister, I cannot waste my time with chitchat –haven't you heard? Christmas is coming…"

"But –it's like a year from now…!"

Woody felt the hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him away.

"So go on, and have your sleep… Enjoy the long, black night…"

His voice also went lower, quieter, until it was as if he was far away, and not beside him, with his hand on Woody's shoulder.

"… Go on. Let's move ahead –a few steps –do not get me lost, sheriff," said Santa Claus, not even lower, in a sinister whisper.

Woody obeyed and walked a bit farther from the cardboard box, feeling he was being taken for ransom. They turned when the next box ended –and Santa Claus sat on the floor, with a long sigh.

"Jolly crackers, these kids…"

"Kids?" said Woody suddenly. "Do Jenny and Billy have kids already—?"

"No –my kids –my children!" said Santa Claus. "They're a handful…"

"Yeah –tell me 'bout it," said Woody, rubbing his fingers, hoping they hadn't made a dent in the plastic. "Why are they like that?"

"They all came in a set… They've been like this since they came out of the box," said Santa Claus. "I was the first Santa Claus they ever saw –so they clearly think I'm the real deal."

Woody thought about it for a moment, and despite how clearly tired the old Santa sounded, he began laughing out loud. "Pull my string –now that's some real crazy… They think you're the real Santa?"

"Yes. That's what I said."

Woody laughed on, so hard (after all, he hadn't laughed in quite a while) that he felt his belly ache and his voice wheezing.

"Don't laugh at their despair!" said Santa. "They have nothing else –they have no identities of their own –they exist solely for this job."

"Still… Why do they have to be such a pain in the back about it?"

"They're just children, sheriff."

"That's no argument, Mister," said Woody, calming down a bit. "As far as you said, they're your children…"

"I can't tell them the truth, sheriff… They'd be devastated."

"Bah," said Woody, taking a deep breath, still chuckling. "They'd get over it."

"It's not so easy."

Santa Claus, somehow, managed to hold on to Woody's shoulder again –this time without the need of searching for it. He squeezed it, making Woody feel rather reassured. Perhaps old Santa was just trying to stabilize himself, but still, being held –even if just the pressure of someone's hand on his shoulder –made Woody feel better than he had been since he arrived to the attic.

"Let me guess…" said Santa. "You're either Jenny or Billy's old childhood toy –perhaps a birthday or Christmas present –and have been left here for sentimental reasons."

"Yeah, let's call it that," said Woody. "That wasn't that hard to guess, anyways—"

"Let me finish," said Santa, now trying –and failing –to cover Woody's mouth, instead covering his nose. "You talk too much, you know. You were left here in the attic for sentimental reasons. Like anyone here, you've lost count of the days, of the years… And still you believe that, someday, either one of them will come up here, and see you, and play with you again."

"I don't believe it," said Woody. "I know it."

"How?" asked Santa. "How can you be so certain?"

"Because… Because they haven't forgotten about me," said Woody. "I know that they both remember when they played with me… I made them happy. Why then would they forget about me, and not play with me anymore?"

"People's memories are faulty, sheriff. Do you know how many years you've still got left here?"

"No –but –surely I'll be taken soon –perhaps when they get the Christmas box down, they'll see me—"

"Don't lie to yourself," said Santa. "Do you really believe that?"

Woody was silent. Of course he believed that –he knew that –it had to be true. If not… Then why would they have left him there, instead of donating him, or throwing him away? Why would they, who so loved playing with him when they were children, would keep him in the attic? Why, unless they thought they'd find him useful again?

"Again –I don't believe that –I know that."

"Well then," said Santa. "My children know I'm the real deal. They know I'm Santa Claus."

"Come on, that's not the same, you can't compare—"

"My children need me to think they're here for a reason, sheriff," said Santa. "They need to believe in something, to believe they are useful… Otherwise, what's the purpose of it all?"

Woody thought about this. He thought his own purpose was very clear. It was the purpose of any toy –to be played with, to be loved, to comfort and care for their kid. And the Christmas decorations… Well, they just needed to be there for Christmas, to decorate the tree. That was their use, their purpose. That was it.

"I think you're trying to muddle the whole thing," muttered Woody.

Santa chuckled. "Perhaps I am. I don't know anymore. I just want my children to feel safe and certain about something. The year is so long, sheriff, and this place is so dark and lonesome… And if you don't feel like you have a purpose, it's very easy to fall into despair."

Woody turned to where he assumed Santa Claus was. His silence told Santa something.

"Of course, of course you've fallen into despair," he said quietly, sympathetically. "But what was the thing that kept you going –what kept you from ripping your own seams?"

"… The knowledge I'll be played with, again," admitted Woody.

"So there you have it," said Santa Claus. "That's your purpose right there."

There was a long, quiet moment. Woody wondered if Santa Claus had left, and if he was alone now. He was about to reach out to his left side –where Santa's voice had been coming from –and he realized how much, how desperately he wanted to feel that hand on his shoulder again, squeezing it gently, reassuringly.

Woody wouldn't ask him that, of course.

"Here is where we need to say our goodbyes," said Santa Claus. He groaned as he stood up, as some plastic or metal components inside him scraped against each other. Woody wondered how old he was –if he was also an antique. "I need to go back to my children. To sleep the long, silent, holy night…"

"Why can't you stay out of the box?" said Woody –and immediately regretted it –he didn't want to appear desperate for company. But he was.

"To be there for my children –that is my purpose, sheriff," said Santa Claus. "As mad as it may seem to you."

There were a couple of soft, heavy steps. Woody stayed where he was. He wouldn't follow him –wouldn't embarrass him further. The steps stopped. There was a pained, deep breath.

"Listen, sheriff –put your ear against the ground."

"What?"

"You'll be able to listen what goes on below," said Santa. "That should help keep you sane for a few more years."

The steps continued, and there was the sound of fabric against cardboard. Santa was surely back in his box again.

Woody got on his knees and lowered his head until it touched the floor. He took off his hat and gripped it tightly in one hand –the worst thing that could happen to him up there in that attic was not going crazy at all, it was losing his hat –and he pressed his ear against the hard wooden floor, and closed his eyes, and listened.

The sounds he had heard before, the ones that had been so mysterious, slowly began to sound more and more like familiar things. Woody heard the pipes, the running water. He heard chatting, laughter. He heard arguments, a radio –a TV too. He heard music, and steps, and more laughs. Woody imagined Billy and Jenny, dancing together, smiling and laughing, and he smiled, too.

Woody set himself a sort of routine, something to help him get by: he would sleep as much as he could, and then spend some time walking around –trying his best not to let himself panic or fall into despair –and then, if he had felt he had moved enough and if he was tired again, he would spend some time with his ear on the ground, just as he fell asleep. Woody listened particularly attentively to try to hear something like a baby cry, but to no avail. There were sounds of dishes and silverware clinking, and of heavy objects being brought in and dragged from one side of the house to another, and hammering on the walls, and sometimes a weird breathing and moaning sound he couldn't quite place.

This routine did wonders to keep him at least a bit entertained. Woody imagined the life that went on beneath him –he guessed when furniture was being moved, when there was vacuuming, when they were having dinner. This truly kept him happy for perhaps six or eight months –at first he had tried to count each Christmas that passed –but so much time went by between it that he would not be sure of how many had gone by.

And then the despair slowly settled in again. At first he didn't notice it; he kept at his routine, which already bored him but which he insisted to himself, was at least a little bit healthy. But then, during his walking, Woody saw the silhouette –the shape, finally, he saw something in the dark –of Davy leaning against a wall, covering his ears, trying to escape his parents' arguing. He ran towards him –forgetting he was but a toy –but he smashed his face against the wall. There were more hallucinations –some which Woody wondered if they weren't actually just dreams –of little Jenny and Billy, giggling, hiding behind the boxes; of their hushed voices, telling each other elaborate stories; of Davy, repeating, at the top of his lungs, his mother's orders, mocking her, stomping in anger.

And when Woody felt he couldn't take it any longer, he began to scream –silent screams, tensing his whole body as if he could scream, but ensuring –taking all necessary precautions –that no sound would come out of him. This didn't feel as good as Davy made it look. There was no real catharsis, and the tension he built didn't really have an outlet. So he just sat in silence, or stuck his ear to the ground, trying to listen something new, something that would distract him.

"What was it like?" he asked Santa, as soon as Jenny had closed the door to the attic after another Christmas had gone by. Santa Claus had sighed, stepped out of his box, and told Woody, as quickly as he could, all the presents that were given and all the people who gathered for the party. This gave him a taste of how life was truly like below, how Jenny and Billy were living.

Once, some time after Santa had told him all about the latest Christmas, Woody was with his head on the ground when he heard the booming voice, calling him.

"Sheriff!"

Woody followed the voice, and stumbled against Santa Claus' box. He grabbed the cowboy by the neckerchief –the first thing he managed to grab of him –and pulled him inside the cardboard box. Immediately the little decorations all climbed onto him, poking him.

"He's here!"

"The toy…"

"Hark! Hark! Hark…!"

"What's going on?" asked Woody nervously. "Did something happen?"

"Great things happened, my child," said Santa. "My children have been good –they have acquired a treasure. We have been blessed with two batteries, double A."

"Joy to the world!"

"The light!"

"Led by the light of faith…"

"O'er the world, stars gently gleaming…"

"Batteries?" asked Woody. "What for?"

"Just watch," said Santa, clearly trying to contain his glee. "Be witness of the miracle of light."

There were a few creaking sounds –like something hitting a piece of plastic –and the metallic sound of a spring –and a bit of grunting and huffing –and then, a short click!

The Christmas lights, all tangled inside the large cardboard box, were turned on. Woody gasped. The twinkling lights shone so much he had to blink a few times, so used he had become to the dark. And not only were the white lights turned on –there was also the colorful, wonderful glow of another set of cables, which flickered in varying patterns –going off, then on, then blinking rapidly, then slowly dying to glow again.

"Aglow! Aglow!"

"O holy night!

"Divine night!"

Woody lowered his sights. By the glow of the Christmas lights, he could see the decorations –there were several of them, mostly little colorful elves in triangular hats –but also little reindeers, little angels, little nutcrackers, little snowmen, little rocking horses. They all had their tiny painted eyes opened wide, their mouths half open in wonder. They were all kind of cute, despite being generally also kind of annoying. But for this moment, all of them stayed still, hypnotized by the beautiful glowing in the absolute dark.

"Merry Christmas, sheriff," said Santa Claus, and then laughed heartily, truly proud of his children.

Woody looked up at him. The Santa Claus was truly larger than what he expected: his small pink face, with blue eyes and golden half-moon glasses, barely visible from under a great white beard. He was, of course, dressed in red and white, with a red hat with white trimming, and with little black boots and black belt, and in one of his small pink hands he held –it was glued to it –a green sack with plastic candy canes peeping out of it.

"… Thank you," he said to him. The beard moved a bit, in what Woody assumed was a smile.

The cowboy returned his gaze to the Christmas lights. They were enchanting, the most beautiful thing he had seen –after so long in the dark, this seemed like a miracle indeed. Woody laughed, out of sheer delight. If he could, he thought, he would cry.

They all kept staring at the colorful blinking lights, in silence, until the batteries ran out.

The chances of the Christmas decorations managing to get their tiny hands on more batteries next year were not the highest, but still Woody fanned his hopes that it could be done. He even thought of sneaking into the big cardboard box –but immediately thought that of course he couldn't, how on Earth would Jenny and Billy make any sense of it?

The memory of the glowing lights were good enough to keep him going for a little while more. Woody was already having difficulties sleeping –he became even more nervous, anxious, and the nightmares became more commonplace –and in the dark it was difficult to make sure what was real and what wasn't –though, as a general rule of thumb, Woody could remind himself that if he could see it, it probably didn't exist. If he saw children in the attic, or other toys, it was more likely he was imagining them.

So he was quite surprised when, while trying to get some rest, he heard a sound that, while strange, was also rather familiar. It was like a gentle tapping –an insistent noise, but gentle nonetheless –on something Woody guessed was cardboard. He knew how it sounded like from his own nervous tapping on the cardboard walls –but he was still, and the sound didn't come from him.

Woody wondered if the Christmas decorations were up already, but they never caused that sort of ruckus. There was a chance he was imagining it, but then again, maybe he wasn't. And even if he was, what difference would it make to follow the sound, to try to find out what it was?

He did so, walking slowly, trying not to make a peep –so he could listen as close as possible to the tapping, and to orientate himself in the darkness of the box maze in the attic, to the source of the noise. As he got closer the sound got louder, just barely, but that lifted his spirits, as Woody thought, this is real, there is something here, there is someone producing this sound.

After a while Woody finally came across a box from which, when he put his hand on it, he could feel the vibrations of the tapping. This was it. Woody knocked on it. There was a brief silence, and then more tapping. This was it, there was someone in there.

Woody climbed that box –it was taped and closed –but that hadn't stopped him before. He poked and pulled at the tape as hard as he could, for as long as it took, and managed to rip it off. When he did, he lost his balance –and fell inside the box –and onto several bumpy things –one of them which immediately jumped and squirmed from under him.

"Golly bob-howdy!" exclaimed a worn voice, alarmed. "What's goin' on?"

"It's someone!" cried Woody joyfully. "Howdy! Oh, thank goodness, you're someone…"

"Yes –of course I'm someone…" said the voice, and the owner of the voice managed to move from under him. "Who would you be?"

"Oh –sorry –I'm sheriff Woody Pride," he said hurriedly. "You can call me Woody, it's fine."

"Oh –hello, Woody—"

"What's your name?" said Woody, trying to stand up carefully, without bothering his new acquaintance.

"That'd be Slinky," said the voice. "Slinky Dog, but the dog part's redundant."

"What were you doing?" asked Woody.

"Me? I think I was having a dream…" said Slinky. "Perhaps I've been waggin' my tail while I slept… I'm sorry if I bothered you, sheriff."

"Bother me?" said Woody. "No, no, no, no, I'm –I'm really glad you were wagging your tail!"

"Um… 'Scuse me, sheriff…"

"Please, call me Woody."

"Alright, um… Woody, I don't know if this may sound a bit strange to you… But could I ask you something?"

"Yes –anything!"

"… Could you please scratch my ears?"

There was an awkward silence.

"… I'm sorry –I knew it'd be an inappropriate thing to ask—"

"No, not at all!" said Woody. "Just… Where's your head?"

Woody stretched his hand forward, at the general area Slinky's voice appeared to come from. He heard some sniffing –so he was like a dog, then –and a soft breathing near his fingers. Slinky's muzzle found Woody's hand, and then it was easy for him to go higher, and find his new friend's ears. He scratched behind them, remembering how Ginger liked to be scratched –after all, a horse and a dog aren't that different.

"Oh –that's the spot," said Slinky happily, and there was the pitter-patter again –his tail wagging. "Thanks so much, Woody. I've been with an itch for who knows how long."

"It's no bother," he said.

"Could you –um –if it's still no bother to you –also scratch…?"

Something bumped against Woody's leg, and then something smaller bumped against him several times –his tail, he guessed. Woody scratched that too.

"That's better, isn't it?" he said, amused at the wagging.

Slinky let out a small bark in agreement. Woody sighed and sat in the box, smiling wide, knowing that, from that moment on, life in the attic would become much easier.

"So, who're you?" asked Slinky. "I can't really get a good look at you, but you said you're a sheriff…"

"Yeah, I am," said Woody, scratching his nape. "I was Jenny's toy. Who was your kid? Billy?"

Slinky scoffed. "Yeah –for two days," he said. "I was Tommy's."

"Tommy?"

"Billy's father. I was his toy for quite some time… And then he put me 'n a box for a while, and then he took me out to give me to Billy –who played with me for a bit… And then put me back 'n the box."

"Oh… I'm sorry," said Woody. "That sounds real bad."

"Bah, it's alright," said Slinky. "You can't win 'em all… Some kids will like you, some will not. They're changing creatures, children. They start likin' a thing, then something new'll come by…"

"Well, that wasn't my experience at all," said Woody, slightly offended. "My kids liked me from beginning to end."

"So you're one of the lucky ones," said Slinky. "Jeez, I'd love to be played again, y'know. I almost forgot what it was like."

Woody thought that he could never forget such a thing, something that he felt so close to him –to who he was. He rather pitied Slinky –it was hard for him to think that Billy would just reject a toy –but perhaps he was too young to play with him, or something of the sort.

"I really don't know why Billy wanted me here. I reckon it's got somethin' to do with me being his old father's toy…"

"That's kind of why Jenny kept me," said Woody with a smile Slinky wouldn't see. "Guess nostalgia's a good thing for us both."

"Uh, I don't know…" muttered Slinky. "I wish I was given away. I don't reckon I'll be played again…"

"What? Why do you say that?"

"I'm an old toy –I have one gimmick –this spring between my head and my tail," said Slinky, and there was a metallic sound. "You're probably a doll or somethin' –the type of kids really like –things that remind them of themselves."

"So? That doesn't mean you won't be played with again, Slink," said Woody, stretching his hand and touching the dog's leathery ears. "You're a toy, and kids love toys! No matter what they look like, or how old they are…"

"You can't deny they prefer the novelties, Woody."

"Well, perhaps they do –and? I was old for Jenny, but she took me in with the rest of her toys –and I was played with –and she thought I was great!"

"She did?"

"Yeah!" said Woody. "Slinky, I betcha any kid would love to play with you, if given the chance."

"Billy didn't…"

"Well, perhaps then Billy wasn't the kid for you. Or perhaps he didn't know how to play with you –that can happen!"

"… You certain about that, Woody?"

"I am," he said. "And I think you and me will be played with sooner than you think."

"Golly, that'd be just plum," said Slinky with a sigh. "I wish that'd be true…"

"It will be, Slink," said Woody. "Just trust me."

Slinky kept quiet for a moment. There was the tapping sound –much less hurried this time –and Woody felt something slipping under his arm, leaning onto his lap.

"D'you mind?" said Slinky, quietly. "If you do then I've no problem, I can—"

"It's –it's fine, Slink," said Woody. "You can stay like that if you want."

Slinky sighed again, and kept still. Woody touched his ears, feeling its worn texture. The dog's head wasn't too heavy, but still it applied a nice pressure to his belly. It felt good to be against someone else –to be with someone else. Woody pulled the tip of his hat –an old habit from the toy box, to prevent sudden light waking him up –though here, light was not really an issue –and tried to get some sleep.

Woody and Slinky became inseparable. During his usual walks, Slinky would come with him and the little sound of his tail wagging would replace the lonesome sound of their steps, and things wouldn't feel so bad anymore. Slinky had better hearing than Woody, and so when he got his ear to the ground he could tell Woody in great detail what was going on below. They often exchanged playtime stories, and Woody soon found out that Slinky wasn't even one of Tommy's favorites –he was often the one relegated to the desk, or to a shelf, to watch the others playing; or sometimes he would join in on the fun, but his role would always be minuscule –he'd be the dog who would alert someone of something, or someone's pet. Slinky was awestruck with Woody's stories –even the ones from his days trying to catch Barlow –where he was always the hero. He often told Woody how lucky he had been, how glad he should be of having had two kids –three, if you counted Billy! –who loved him and played with him so much. So Woody would then tell Slink his own ideas of the different, interesting roles the dog could have during playtime: perhaps a cruel mafia boss, shrewd and slinky just as his name indicated; or a noble rescue ranger, who saved tots from terrible accidents –with the aid of the experimental addition of the spring on his torso; or a mythical creature, as mysterious as jackalopes and unicorns –the obsession of several hunters throughout the ages; or the loyal guardian of a trio of young orphaned children, responsible for their wellbeing and dedicated to protect them from kidnappers.

When they wanted to rest, they'd stay together –in the dark, it was easy to lose the other –so Slinky would repose his head on Woody's lap, and the cowboy would scratch his friend's head until he fell asleep. During those last moments of consciousness, just about to sleep as well, Woody would smile and think of how lucky he was –to have found someone to lean onto, to help his through his time in the attic. It was nice to have a friend again.

And soon Slinky proved to be even luckier: next Christmas, after the decorations box was returned to the attic, Santa received Woody and his new buddy with the best news he could have been hoping for: Jenny was pregnant.

"Pregnant?" asked Slinky.

"She's gonna have a kid, Slink!" exclaimed Woody excitedly. "A kid, who's gonna need toys, who's gonna play—"

"I know what pregnant means, Woody," said Slinky. "But why's that a reason for so much hoopla?"

"We'll be played with again!"

"What? How d'you know that?"

"I… I just know, Slink," said Woody. "Just trust me –I know this is our ticket out of this attic –this kid will play with us, I just know it…"

"… Why if he doesn't?" said Slinky, quietly. "What if Jenny and Billy just forget we're here, and they get the baby new toys? I reckon that's more likely to happen…"

"Now –Slink…" Woody said as he kneeled next to the dog. "Wouldn't you like to be played with?"

"'Course I do…"

"So? Perhaps you're right –but perhaps nostalgia works in our favor," said Woody with a wide smile. "Maybe we're not gonna be taken off the attic right away –but maybe when the kid's older, and the parents' won't want to shell out more money for newer toys, they'll remember us."

"You mean, they'll remember you," said Slinky. "Billy has no reason to remember me."

Woody couldn't argue with that particular pessimistic thought. He huffed, but then he came up with an idea.

"Well –in that case, why don't you stay in my box?"

"In your…" Slinky sounded astonished. "Woody, I've a box of my own…"

"They'll surely have forgotten about that –they'll just see you, and think, here's a toy for our kid –why don't we keep it?" said Woody. "Why don't we just have it around, in case our kid wants to play with it?"

"D'you really think that could work, Woody?"

"I'm certain it will," the cowboy said. "Just stay with me. I promise you, Slink, we'll be played with again, very soon."

And so they began to accustom themselves to staying put, in a single box, so their chance didn't caught them by surprise. They spent most of the time sleeping, chatting quietly, and Woody kept him hopeful by telling him more stories of his playtime –so Slinky would know very well what there would be ahead for them.

The momentous day did catch them by surprise, but they were in the box –they were ready –and Woody felt that, after so long, after so much darkness and despair and fear, the light that came when the attic door opened, and Billy's head peered in, holding a flashlight, was like the sky was opening up, clouds moving aside to let the sunlight stream in after a long, heavy storm.

"D'you remember what the box was labeled, dear?" Billy called.

"It just said 'attic'…"

"Most of these boxes say 'attic'," sighed Billy. "Guess we should've been more thoughtful about what we labeled these things…"

Billy looked around, opening taped boxes with ease, clicking his tongue, and then as he moved the boxes around he had to hold the flashlight with his mouth. Finally he caught sight of the badly re-taped box where Woody and Slinky were in; he crawled to it, opened it and saw them both, and with the flashlight back in his hand, shining it above the toys' heads, Billy smiled.

"Found 'im!"

The box was taken downstairs, and then into a nearby room –where Jenny was sitting on a stool. Woody and Slinky could barely see anything through the thin open sliver where the tape had been hastily put, but just the sight of Jenny, now a woman indeed, smiling down at him made him infinitely happy.

"It's heavier than I remembered…"

"Stop complaining, Billy," said Jenny. "Get one of these in your belly, then you'll know what heavy is."

Billy laughed. The box was opened –the light was blinding –and slowly, both the faces of Woody's former children became completely visible.

"Here he is…"

"Wow, I thought he'd be in worse shape."

"He's just like I remember him."

Jenny herself picked Woody up, to the light that was flooding the room. He took a brief look around: there was a white crib with a soft pink dresser next to it, atop which a baby lamp stood; there was also a table with a box of diapers and baby wipes, and a shelf with storybooks; and, surrounding him, the room was all wallpapered in a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. A whole room for the baby, Woody thought. What a lucky kid.

"Think he'll be safe?"

"Why'd you ask?"

"I don't know… Perhaps he'll poke his eye out with his nose."

Woody wondered if his nose was really that long. What a silly thing to wonder –what joy to think back to silly things, things that didn't lead him to panic.

"Don't worry… The only thing I'm not sure about…" said Jenny, and she picked at his sheriff badge, and she managed to pull it off his chest. "There's a pin here, right…? Ah, yes, here it is. Well, a dedicated baby could pin it off and swallow it…"

"You're right."

"But besides that… Well…"

"Well…?"

Woody was then thoroughly wiped with a wet rag, in order to take all the dust off him.

"Should we pop him into the washing machine, just to make extra sure he's clean?" asked Jenny once she was done.

"No –doesn't he have like a thing that talks? That would get ruined."

"Ah, right."

After the wiping, Woody was gently taken into the crib. He kept his eyes fixed on the cardboard box, still on the wooden working table in the middle of the room. While Billy went downstairs, Jenny frowned –and took Slinky out.

"Hey Billy!"

"Yeah?"

"D'you remember this?" asked Jenny.

"This what?"

"This… Slinky thing –it's like a dog…" said Jenny, turning Slinky around. Woody could finally get a good look at him –he was indeed two halves of a dog, with droopy eyes and a spring both on the tail and joining his two halves. "Is this yours? It's definitely not mine…"

"What?" Billy came back into the baby room. "Ah, yeah, that old thing. Y'know? It was my dad's. Just like your cowboy!"

"Huh… Do you think it could be a good toy for the baby?"

Billy came closer, and picked Slinky up. He pulled at the spring, and at the ears, checking their sturdiness.

"Hm… Maybe the baby hits himself with the spring, or something… But if we're around when he plays with it, I guess it'd be okay," said Billy. "What do you think, mama hen?"

"I think it's rather charming," said Jenny. "Maybe we'll keep him around, let him play with it sometimes, or keep it for when he's older."

"Alright then. So, back to the attic for him?" asked Billy, picking up the cardboard box.

What? Why? Didn't Jenny just say they'd keep him around?, Woody thought.

"No –I'll keep him by the shelf. If the baby shows interest in him…"

"Gotcha. Something else you need me to pick from the attic?"

"Did you keep those old books you had –that nice encyclopedia, and the illustrated Aesop fables?"

"Let me check…"

Billy left the room again, while Jenny stood up with some effort. Woody looked at her more carefully. Her belly was very swollen and round, and it seemed she had trouble moving and balancing herself. She put a hand on her belly, and smiled. Woody didn't know about these kind of things, but he thought that if the baby got any bigger in there, Jenny wouldn't be able to walk anymore.

She wiped Slinky with the wet rag too, taking the dirt off him, and set him on the shelf, next to the storybooks. She took a moment to gaze at the room, which was already pretty full of things to entertain a small child –Woody managed to see that, on the wide green carpet, there were larger toys –or things that resembled toy to him –like a round disk with several animal stickers around the edges, like a clock, with an arrow in the middle; what it was for was anyone's guess. There was also something that looked like a small TV, with a smaller screen and large buttons, all with different letters. Toys had come a long way, he thought. He understood Slinky's feelings of being outdated –these fears weren't unfounded –but still they had managed to reach the baby's room. Now, that was their place. And they would be played with, again, after so long.

While Jenny and Billy slept in the room next door, at night, Woody would easily slip through the bars of the crib –and Slinky, who was obviously really flexible –came down from the shelf and reunited with him. They presented themselves to the TV with lettered buttons –Mr Spell was his name, as he kindly spelled it out to them –and to the clock with animals instead of numbers, who Mr Spell also told them was named See'n'Say. The colorful teething rings didn't say anything, and didn't appear to move out of their own volition, so Woody and Slinky didn't present themselves to them.

After some time new toys came, too –a bunch of wooden blocks, also with letters on them, as if Mr Spell wasn't enough –and, funnily enough, a little firefighter truck, with many little round fellas that were more than happy to each introduce themselves to Slinky and Woody.

"Who's the captain here, then?" asked one of the round firefighters, the one which Woody was almost sure was named Keith.

"Uh… Well, there's not a captain here, but—"

"Woody's a sheriff," said Slinky.

"Oh –right –I guess you've got a badge there somewhere," said Keith. "Sorry –it's hard to see properly from down here. In that case, sheriff, we'll report to you."

"Oh… Yeah, that sounds great," said Woody.

Keith nodded. Slinky looked up at the cowboy, as he slowly smiled.

"What is it, Woody?"

"I'm the sheriff."

"… Yeah, thought you knew that already—"

"No, but –I'm the sheriff, Slink…" he said. "I'm gonna be the leader of the room."

"Yeah –of course you will," said Slinky as if it were obvious. "Who else would it be?"

That night Woody could hardly sleep at all, not because of anxiety or nightmares, but because of the sheer excitement of being the leader of the room again –he had to answer to no one, he'd be the one calling the shots. He wouldn't be bossed around like when he was Jenny's toy, under Barlow's thumb. Woody thought he hadn't been this free since his time with Davy –and back then, the kid had only a few toys. Even as a baby, this new kid had more than Davy had well into his preteen years, and that would surely progress as the years came by. That meant a lot of responsibility –he would have to care for not only his kid, but for several other toys that would look up to him for guidance –but he was only too glad to be that person, to have his time in the spotlight, to be the local sheriff again and be loved and played with again. As morning broke, he was still awake, thinking of how this new baby would be like, what he would like to play; whether sometime he'd get a horse to ride on.

Jenny woke up screaming; Woody became terrified, but apparently it was all under control: Billy helped her downstairs and they went to the hospital. A few days later they returned home, with a new little person coming along with them.

It wasn't immediate, as Woody would have liked it to. The baby slept the first nights with Jenny, in the next room. Woody was anxious to see him –Jenny and Billy called the baby "Andy", so that was how he would call him –but decided not to slip by and see him yet. It was silly, but he was afraid there was already a toy with him –and that he would have to have an argument with them –and that he'd lose his sheriff position. No matter, Woody thought, he could wait. What was a few more days compared to the years he spent in the shelf, in the attic, in the bottom of the toy box?

And when the time came, it was a sunny, beautiful day, and Jenny, with tired eyes but with a smile, came into the baby's room carrying little Andy in her arms. Billy came behind her, carefully watching. He pushed the crib's bars down –Woody didn't know they could do that –and picked Woody up so that Jenny could leave little Andy on the soft sheets. As he was being held in Billy's hand, he looked at the parents' loving gaze, how they smiled at the baby as if he was the most precious, most amazing thing the world had ever created.

"I'll take eighty per cent of the credit for him, thank you very much," joked Jenny, and Billy laughed. She leaned forward and stroke the baby's chubby cheeks, his fuzzy head.

Billy then brought Woody closer to the baby –who had opened his little eyes –and left him by the baby's side. Little Andy was very warm, and made little noises while breathing, and little noises as he stretched his tiny fingers and tried to grasp at things. Woody was stunned. He had seen baby Jenny while she was sleeping, so many years ago –but this baby, little Andy, with his eyes watching the world around him, slightly turning his head, his throat making sounds that varied from laughs to coughs –he was an entirely different thing, something active, something thinking, someone. Not just the idea of a baby –but a baby indeed. Jenny smiled, and Billy kissed her temple. Woody had known these two since they were children –and now there he was, snuggled next to the child they had both created.

Baby Andy turned around, and saw Woody. He stared at him for a moment, seeming rather confused –but then stretched his hand to him, and gripped his arm –he had a strong grip in his little fists. He pulled at him, and smiled widely –a toothless grin –and Woody had never been this loved since he was first taken out of his box. Andy chirped happily, and laughed, and continued grasping at Woody's ragdoll body. And then he'd brought him to his mouth –and began sucking on his nose.

"He really does like him," Billy commented with a chuckle.

It was a rather uncomfortable situation –being all drooled over –but Woody didn't mind –he wouldn't even mind it when the baby would began to teeth, and the crying and the biting would be a lot more uncomfortable and painful. It was alright, because Andy was his kid, and he loved him, and he played with him. Everything was right again, and Woody, after years of worries and misery, was finally happy.

#toy story #toy story 4 #bo peep #woody pride #fanfiction

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