#today's rabbit is full of springs!

[niteshade925]

April 20, Beijing, China, National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆 (Part 1 - Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展):

Aaand finally, the National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆! I was lucky enough to see the famed Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展 here. Some of you may recognize some of these pieces already, since pictures and shorts of them have been circulating online way before I went on this trip, but there are many many other pieces too. The pieces I post here are only a small portion of the entire exhibition, so if you ever get a chance to see the exhibition elsewhere in person, don't hesitate. This stuff is amazing.

First up is one of the two that has been gaining popularity online, the piece named 神话 or "Legend".

The first time I saw a porcelain piece like this, I thought that the clothing part was made with paper? But no, the light fabric of the clothing, the hair, it's all porcelain. Keep in mind when looking through these pictures: every part of every piece is porcelain.

This piece is the other one that was becoming popular, the piece named simply 纸, or "Paper". If you don't look up close and see the glossy surface, you can't tell it's actually porcelain. I cannot for the life of me imagine the kind of magic that was used to turn clay into this

Anyway, this is a good point to introduce Dehua porcelain a little bit. Dehua porcelain is a regional specialty of Dehua/德化, which is located in Fujian province, and is known for its expressiveness and white color. For this reason it's also known in the West as "Blanc de Chine" (French: "white of China"), and this should be the reason why this exhibition is named 中国白, which basically means the same thing. The history of Dehua porcelain goes back to Song dynasty (960 - 1279), and it is still being produced today. Many of the pieces I'm posting here are modern pieces.

But Dehua white porcelain can be colored too (I imagine the color must be painted on later, because the white comes from the clay itself), and when it is colored, it looks like it came right out of a painting

This piece is especially amazing to me. Look at the texture, look at those details. Zoom in and you will find that there are actually a bunch of porcelain ants on this porcelain tree stump. Porcelain ants. I never expected to use porcelain as an adjective when describing ants. Wtf. It's like a manifestation of a scene from an older animated movie.

Peanuts are called 花生 in Chinese, which literally means "flower grow", and because it also has a long shelf life, it symbolizes longevity and a happy marriage. Also a fun fact: because Watson of Sherlock Holmes is usually phoenetically translated as 华生 (huá shēng) in Chinese and sounds similar to 花生 (huā shēng), you will find that many in the Chinese SH fandom refers to Watson as "peanut".

This piece is titled 春色满园, or "garden filled with spring scenery". This is also a common 4-character word used to describe gardens in spring. I'm guessing the figure depicted here is one of the flower gods. It is one of my personal favorites because of its superb depiction of movement, it's as if the flower god will really fly away on clouds at any moment

More depictions of traditional Chinese deities, specifically Chang'e/嫦娥, the moon goddess. That moon rabbit is too cute.

Depictions of what I'm assuming is the Four Heavenly Kings/四大天王, based on the items they are holding. The Four Heavenly Kings are Buddhist deities.

Look at her clothing! That porcelain is so thin it's almost see-through! Also is it depicting Li Qingzhao/李清照, the famous female poet from Song dynasty? She does have a famous ci poem that's about paddling a boat in a lake full of lotuses while drunk

The piece titled 锦绣前程, or "future as vibrant and prosperous as silk brocade". This is also a common 4-character word used in well wishing. The figure in this piece is holding a xiuqiu/绣球, a ball made of silk, which was usually seen as a token of love

Somewhat more modern-themed pieces:

Among the hundreds of amazing pieces, this one caught my attention for its unique texture. When everyone else was trying to turn the clay into these thin sheets representing fabric or paper or flower petals, this artist took the noodle approach. Not many visitors seemed to like it, but I think it's pretty cool

Piece titled 运势如虹, or "fortune like the rainbow", also a 4-character word used in well wishing. Traditionally horses symbolize vitality and success, hence why many people use the words 马到成功 ("horse's arrival brings success") and 龙马精神 ("vitality of dragons and horses") in well wishes during Year of the Horse

Stay tuned for Part 2 of the Dehua white porcelain exhibition!

[grimesgirll]

somewhat obsessed with the idea of wearing rick’s boxers.

it’s like second nature to you. it has to be.

after every time you slid into bed, every time rick and daryl strip you of your own undergarments, every time they fuck you dumb, everytime rick maneuvers you into your position bundled against his chest, you’re wearing a pair of his boxers.

the two had been surprised at first when they found you face down on the bed after a long day in nothing but a tiny tank top and rick’s blue and white striped boxers.

it took everything in them not to pounce on you right then and there. but when you woke up, you were more than happy to fess up to stealing rick’s boxers to wear as shorts.

rick could barely contain himself one afternoon in alexandria. you were taking judith on a wholesome stroll but you were wearing a pair of pale blue boxer shorts with a soft, white long sleeve and one of rick’s white button ups thrown on. later, he had to explain to you that he wasn’t snubbing you when you caught sight of him and tried to wave him over, just trying to keep his zipper from busting.

you had just laughed and quipped that they were the perfect bottoms.

from then on, rick found his boxer shorts going missing; on runs, he’d found you in the men’s underwear section, stripping down to try on a pair of striped ralph lauren boxers. that’s how the two of you ended up sweating and shamelessly blushed out on the cramped car ride home.

the rose painting your countenance couldn’t cease because you knew you smelled like sex. rick too. from the creamy ring you’d left around his cock as he lifted you off of him and onto the mahogany sales table, you knew you two had overdone it. with the wide block of time you had today to secure supplies, rick felt free to fuck your pussy twice, filling you up enough to have you seen stars on the sales floor.

all because you’d styled his underwear as shorts.

daryl teases his friend about it.

“can’t even wake up without seein’ her in ‘em and gettin’ hard.”

daryl’s a hypocrite however.

even the woodsman isn’t immune to your figure in those boyish bottoms.

it’s twenty-five minutes into your small game hunt when daryl’s hands are in your boxers. you had actually wanted to catch a rabbit or some quail, but once your boyfriend’s fingers are between your folds, you can’t find the will to complain.

the two of you start with him holding you against a hemlock, arms wrapping around you while he fingers you nice and slow, boxers down around your ankles. as he massages your plush walls, daryl counts how casual you are about going commando as one of his blessings.

then it turns. then suddenly there’s a pine needle in your mouth. you spit the green thing out and try to brace yourself against the forest floor. it had happened so fast; his tongue tag teaming you with his fingers to crack you open like a safe in record time. then you were face down with nothing but a denim jacket quickly strewn beneath you.

you love when he or rick spring this kinda thing on you - it’s spontaneous, wild, a little risky in all the right ways. yes, most nights you’d prefer to be rolled up into a blanket burrito with your boys and a glass of wine but the adventures like this really do something for you.

pupils expanded, your chest is heavy when daryl’s the first to come out of your post-romp fog and collect your boxers. your legs are still shaking when the fabric touches your skin.

“daryl!”

you’d protested when the man began to pull up your boxer briefs. full of his cum, you want to clean up before you soil your bottoms but daryl disregards the swats to his hands. slightly annoyed, you hurried ahead of him through the tract of woods back towards alexandria. it’s fine. he just enjoyed the view of your ass.

complaints crawl out of your mouth as soon as you’re in the door and you’re haphazardly hanging your rifle on the wall. daryl brings in the rear behind you while you’re stomping up the stairs to rick.

your chocolate curled lover is taking off his watch, ready to drop it into the ceramic dish on the dresser when you appear next him, shimmying down your bottoms in a huff.

“hey, darlin’,” he greets, expecting more than a scowl from you.

“hey,” you reply curtly, face still in a pout.

“-make sure you don’t take off those boxers, baby-,” daryl stops dead in his tracks at the sight of your bared pussy in the bedroom lamplight. rick’s also taking it in, eyes trailing from your waist to the trimmed bush, and the puffy pink pussy peeking out, now leaking with daryl’s sticky cum.

you bend over to pick up the soiled shorts. “you’re not the only one who likes these,” you point out.

blue eyes narrow. but before he can give you any lip, you’re giving him not one, but both of yours. smashed against your mouth, rick’s tongue delves between those pillowy lips while walking you towards the bed where daryl’s waiting to situate you on his lap once more. daryl’s antics weren’t enough to turn off the blazing furnace between your legs. no, your temper can handle a few more rounds. it’s not hard when your mind paces back to the eye rolling, all consuming inferno that had cyclones through your core.

they trap you in a kiss. sandwiched between both of their hard ons, you’re shifting and grinding in each direction.

“thought you were pissed off with me,” daryl breathes into your ear, fingertips skimming your waist.

you snort, leaning back into him to grant full access to your bared neck. without hesitation, he’s licking a wicked pattern up the column of your neck. “dare’,” you sigh. gasp after gasp, you melt into his touch.

daryl’s hands are beneath the fat of your rear already and all of the sudden, one of rick’s fingers has snaked its way down to your clit. the fervid flicking against your ardor flush tissue culls any anger you could have towards the two men. you can’t even think about holding a grudge once rick gets a finger into you. at two fingers, daryl’s kissing you with the ferocity of a wildfire. three fingers inside of you and you’re babbling;

“rick, faster, please.”

“what was that?”

“please - faster, can you please?”

the grin on his face is as wide as the pacific. his lips turn upwards into a sly smile. “you want somethin’ a little faster, darlin’?” you shake your head as if it’s obvious. he hmmphs. “you oughta’ sit on daryl’s cock.”

you can’t imagine a world where that’s an unpopular idea.

back onto daryl you go.

those hands at your hips come in handy; daryl raises you a few inches once rick’s removed his fingers. eyes focused on rick and the way his mouth closes around one pruning finger. sucking it clean while daryl’s tip brushes your slick entrance. any yearning radiating off of you can’t be hidden. that kind of heat and wetness down between your thighs is no lie.

so a hiss is to be expected when the muscled man wiggles his way into you. rick is saving a mental image of you - adjusting to the familiar stretch of daryl. your blush doesn’t ease once daryl works another half inch inside.

one moment you’re trying to process daryl’s cock as it’s suddenly seated in you to the hilt. the next rick catches your gaze again. this time he’s doing more than teasing you, taking advantage of your parted lips to invade with his tongue.

“rick,” you mumble against his lips.

“you gettin’ close, angel?”

“should feel ‘er,” daryl rasps. with each thrust of his you’re clinging to rick. “so fuckin’ tight like you didn’t get this perfect pussy fucked in the woods.”

“that’s where you guys went?”

your mischevious grin is hidden in the crook of rick’s necks. the telltale tightening around daryl’s length is all consuming. your grin turns into an open “o” shape when daryl drags across your cervix. sensations from your convulsing core are consuming him too.

that same lust from the woods washes over daryl like the tide and you’re the moon, pulling him in and leading him to crash into you. usually this is rick’s wheelhouse, but one glance into daryl’s darkened pupils and you’re ripped from rick. on top of daryl’s lap, you’re wrapped in his arms, bouncing up and down on the rock hard cock beneath you. he sets the pace while you can only claw at his chest. he returns the favor and reaches forward to palm your tit, relishing in your sweet moans when he rolls a hardened bud between two fingers.

riding him on the bed is such a break for your knees compared to the forest floor. gyrating your hips activates not only the core that keeps you fit but the molten hot bundle of nerves at your core. daryl ruts against you deliciously to deliver just the perfect level of pressure.

rick can’t help but be bewitched at everything unfolding on the surface of the mattress. daryl’s length disappears inside out of you, reappearing with each erratic movement of your hips. there’s no reason to be jealous but if looks could kill, daryl’d be dead simply for the privilege of burying himself inside those heavenly walls.

meanwhile, heat bursts down below like a mini neutron star collision within you. forehead cast with sweat, the energy is fading from your movements as you messily move your pelvis to brush against daryl.

a “fuck, baby,” escapes from his lips and you’re done for. and so is he.

shooting into the sheets and collapsing by your side. you’re prepared to slide into daryl’s embrace when there’s suddenly a familiar feeling breaching your bared pussy.

nails dig into your hips and daryl’s back at it again - lapping his tongue up and down your slit. you were thinking that you two would at least catch your breaths but daryl’s taking no breaks. rick isn’t either.

in true rick fashion, he’s tapping your lips with his impressive cock. how can you say no to that?

you open your mouth and moan around his cock once you feel those devious fingers in your hair. it’s like that sense of overwhelm’s been replicated again. tongue against your clit and yours on the underside of rick, you never imagined your afternoon going this way. all this thanks to your little fashion trend.

“princess, your mouth feels amazing.”

you bob your head in appreciation. just like daryl’s taking care of you, you’re taking your time swallowing around the man in your mouth, treating him to the tight embrace of your throat.

“you like gettin’ a cock down your throat while daryl licks you stupid?”

“mhmmm!” you nod forward onto rick.

as soon as your moans reach daryl’s ears, his tongue’s kicking into hyperdrive. goaded by your delightful little whimpers, daryl begins swabbing a vicious pattern across your folds. the redneck alternates between racing over your sopping tissue to flattening that tongue and saddle you with a finger.

“ooommph,” is the only sound that comes out with rick’s steel hard cock down your throat.

spit slick, rick throbs in your mouth. that painful hardness he’s enduring is granted some sweet relief by your hollowed cheeks. you don’t stop there. driven by the lust addled, cock crazy part of your brain, you’re fully sending rick down your airway. breaths come briefly when he lets you up for air or to howl or cry, “dare’!”

right on time, your core is heating up again. the kiln inside of you scorches. neutralizing you, the ecstasy of another orgasm has you nearly folding into your leader. the blue eyed sheriff even leans back, tugging you up by the hair to keep you from actually choking on his cock. daryl’s diligent puckering around all of your important parts is overwhelming you against, a strategic hand on your clit as well.

as if you were all in sync, rick comes in your mouth first, fingers weaving through your gossamer locks while your thighs quake. you gag at first, before swirling your tongue under the twitching cock and swallowing it all. like a good girl.

once rick’s coming undone, daryl continues swirling his tongue around you. your pussy weeps for him. it contracts around his tongue until even rick’s raising his eyebrows at the vulgar slurping sounds filling the room.

“dare’,” you whine.

“gonna’ be a good girl and come all over dare’s tongue?” rick teases.

“yes, please!” you beg, banging a fist against the sheets.

“you gonna’ let daryl taste all of that perfect pussy?”

tears well in your eyes from the overstimulation but you nod as enthusiastically as possible. “pleeaase!”

you don’t have to ask again because you’re too busy arching into your third orgasm of the day. clenching and unclenching, your insides flutter. “ah!”

“so pretty when you come, baby.”

you’re dissolving into rick’s touch as your climax rings through your cunt. starry eyed and panting the pleasure out through your lungs.

you could fall asleep right there. and you do.

it ends as it always does.

following the flush and the lips leaving the surface of your skin, you feel a familiar fabric traveling up your thighs and double kisses mandating that nap that had been on your mind. the bed and the cozy comfort of sleep swallows you whole. rick too. he can never get close enough, not when you’re wearing his boxers.

[unusuallysubtext]

Hey, can I request a oneshot where Y/n (Mycroft's spouse) suddenly brought a puppy home; they found the puppy on the sidewalk. They brought the puppy home, cleaned him up, and then went to the pet store to buy supplies like dog food, toys, a bed, and a pad for the puppy to pee or poop on. They returned home with all the supplies.

Mycroft finally arrived home after a long day at work. He found Y/n on the floor and was confused at first until he saw the puppy they were playing with. He was perplexed and definitely against it at first, but a few weeks later, Y/n finds Mycroft in the living room with the puppy on his lap while Mycroft reads his newspaper.

Thank you in advance!

Thank you for your request! Requests are open as of 18/06/2024. Tags at end. To be removed/added to the taglist, send an ask or DM me. Critics welcomed, reblogs appreciated! :)

Today was one of those rare days off you had from work, but as usual, it was never in sync with Mycroft's busy schedule. You had awoken to a cold bed with the sun already beaming through the crack in the curtains. With a sigh, you climbed out of bed and stretched, making your way downstairs. A vase of sunflowers stood on the kitchen counter, a card beside it on top of a box of London’s finest pastries.

Good morning, my love. 

Salon appointment at two p.m. 

Take care of yourself.

Love,

M.H.

You smiled, admiring the set up and the time taken out of Mycroft’s morning. Of course he had booked out an entire salon; nails, hair, facials, drinks…

After getting comfortably dressed (a change from your usual business attire), eager to eat more than a few pastries (it would be unfair to try only a couple, after all), you ran downstairs and popped the kettle on.

As you sipped your tea, you pondered how to spend the rest of your day until a car picked you up at one-thirty. The idea of a long walk around the estate seemed appealing, especially with the rare London sun. 

Spring coat and boots on, you set out for your walk. The streets were quiet unlike the bustling inner city, and she much appreciated the calm; it allowed for decompression after high stress days at your demanding job. As she turned a corner into a small park, she noticed a small bundle of fur huddled in the bushes fronting the blue-painted metal rails. Curiosity piqued, you approached cautiously.

To your surprise, it was a puppy, shivering despite the unusual warmth, alone. You were expecting a rabbit, likely dead after the foxes got to it, not an uncommon sight in this area. The little creature looked up at you with wide, fearful eyes. You kneeled, allowing your hand to be sniffed before you picked it up. Upon further inspection, it was only a couple of weeks old, the size of your hand, and bore no collar.

"Poor thing, you must be freezing," you murmured, stroking its soft fur as you held it close to your chest. "Let's get you home."

She made a quick stop at a nearby pet store and vet clinic, purchasing everything the puppy would need—food, a bed, toys, and a small collar, which you left unetched without a name, only your phone number on the back of the tag. 

By the time she arrived back at the house, her arms were full of supplies, and the puppy seemed much more comfortable in your breast pocket. The clinic had not detected a microchip, making you wonder how long the pup had been outside as you set up a cozy corner in the living room. You watched as the puppy explored its new surroundings, following you with tiny, tentative paw taps to the kitchen, where you poured some water and food into its bowls. 

"Mycroft is not going to like this," you thought out loud with a wry smile, imagining his reaction. But the sight of the puppy, now curled up contentedly in its new bed, made her feel certain she had made the right decision.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of playing with the puppy, canceling your salon appointment and ride through Anthea, and preparing dinner after the pup grew tired enough to fall asleep in its bed. As evening fell, you found yourself anxiously awaiting Mycroft's return, wondering how he would react to your new addition and fearing his disappointment of being unable to enjoy his planned day for you.

The grandfather clock struck once, indicating five-thirty and you arose from the dining table to head to the front door. You opened it to see Mycroft, who was pleasantly surprised at your greeting.

“Good evening, darling. How was your day?” he asked, heading in. His smile immediately turned to scrutiny as he sensed something was wrong. “You didn’t go… Why do you have cat hair on you?” Mycroft asked, looking at you.

“Dog, Mycroft,” you rolled your eyes. You weren’t anxious anymore, just keen to see Mycroft discover what you’d done. You followed him to the living room, where he froze at the sight of the sleeping puppy across from you.

“Y/N, what on earth were you thinking? How will you care for it?” Mycroft cried. He never called you by your name. Only ‘Mr/Miss/Mx L/N’ before marriage, and ‘my love’ and ‘darling’ after.

“Mycroft!” you were taken aback, but still attempted to explain your situation. “She was abandoned on the side of the road, no collar, no chip. I couldn’t leave her there!”

“Do you know how many shelters there are in London? One-thousand-two-hundred-and-twenty-seven! Any one of them would have taken it in.” Mycroft was exasperated. “Y/N, please think before making such decisions…” he trailed off, softening his tone and expression as he caught sight of your teary eyes. He walked to you, touching your cheeks and kissing your forehead. “I love you. I don’t love that,” he indicated to the puppy with his head. “I do not want this matter to cause any stress to our relationship. I’m sorry for shouting at you.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll see what I can do about her as soon as possible.”

You understood where Mycroft was coming from. Both of you worked full-time, and taking care of a puppy who was rapidly transforming into a full-grown dog was like taking care of a toddler. She would need to be trained, spayed, played with for mental stimulation… it was going to be a lot.

While Mycroft showered, you heated up dinner. As the two of you ate, the puppy awoke and padded to the dining room, watching Mycroft curiously. The two of them stared at the other intently, frozen in place, and you watched in amusement. 

That night, you lay in bed on your side against Mycroft’s chest. It was a miracle that the puppy had not followed you upstairs, but was instead sleeping soundly in the living room. 

-

Mycroft had been sitting on the sofa after dinner, reading their mail while she tried to reach the seat beside him. Watching her struggle for a couple of minutes from the corner of his eye, he finally sighed and picked her up. She lay down next to Mycroft’s side, and he begrudgingly had let her. She fell asleep, as Mycroft mumbled, mostly to himself. “You don’t have a name, do you? You are rather annoying, going to places you don’t belong. Sofas are for humans, the dog bed, as implied in the name, is for you.” Mycroft thought for a moment, then chuckled in revelation. “Sheryl.” He seemed pleased with the name.

-

“Mycroft?” you say quietly, unable to see him. The curtains have been drawn for the night, the bed toasty from your combined body heat. 

“Hmm?”

“Are you jealous of her?”

There is a pause. “That is preposterous! Go to sleep,” you can feel him shaking his head as he is ripped from his near sleep.

You smile to yourself, turning around and kissing his cheek before drifting off to sleep.

-

Days went by, and you spent all of your lunch breaks and the extra ten minutes you had in the mornings at work calling animal shelters in London, despite the heartache. It would not be difficult at all to get the pup into one, just inhumane. Unsurprisingly, they were all overcrowded and underfunded. You glanced up from the website you were reading on your phone to the stack of paperwork overshadowed by your boss. You sighed.

“Working, are we, Mr/Mrs/Mx Holmes?” Ms Smallwood sneered, saying your name as if it were sour milk.

“Yes, apologies, ma’am. No excuses,” you said, grabbing a pen and opening the first file. 

Her beady eyes watched you for a moment before huffing and storming out on her four-inch heels.

You shot Mycroft a quick text.

Going to be late, sorry. Lots of paperwork, ughh. Can’t wait to get a transfer. - Y/F/I.H.

Don’t worry, my love. I’ll have dinner and a bath ready. Don’t stress, my darling. I shall see you this evening. - M.H.

You smiled at your husband’s preemptiveness, silently thanking the universe for having him to go home to. 

It was quarter-to-seven when you arrived home. You walked through the hallway past the empty study and dining room, the aroma of dinner making your mouth water. In the living room, you could see Mycroft, engrossed in reading the newspaper… out loud? Mycroft saw you, and hushed you, pointing to the sleeping puppy curled up against his belly. He finished reading one last sentence of today’s headlining news: ‘Two murdered bodies found in abandoned freezer at Wembley Sainsbury’s.’ 

“Goodnight, Sheryl, sleep well,” Mycroft said quietly, putting the newspaper down and patting her gently before picking her up and placing her in her bed. He then walked over to you. “Hello, darling, how was your day?” 

“Sheryl, huh?” you laughed.

“Too late to change it now, I have already had it engraved,” Mycroft said matter-of-factly. “I have already fed her–one cup–walked her around the estate, had her pee, and read her a bedtime story, of course.”

You squealed in joy, engulfing Mycroft in a hug. “We’re keeping her?!”

“Yes, of course we are, darling. How else will I keep in shape?”

“Oh, Mycroft! You’re already perfect. I love you! I can’t believe we get to keep her!”

Every night onwards, Sheryl lay in wait in front of the dinner table for the two of you to finish eating and take her for a walk. She would chase butterflies in the very park she was found in before returning to her home, where Mycroft would read her the headlines and let her pick her bedtime story from the papers. Some days it was stock trading tips, obituaries and juicy celebrity gossip, other days it was how her Uncle Sherlock was saving the arses of the Met Police, and gruesome murder-suicides. Every night, she fell asleep in Mycroft’s lap, even when she grew up to be a huge German shepherd. Every night, you snapped a picture of the two, compiling the photographs into an album that showed how their bond strengthened and their kinship blossomed.

-

Tagging: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @that-ace-idiot

[vitaminseetarot]

March Blessings For You 🍃🐇🍀

Sup y'all, welcome back to another pick a card reading. Rabbit rabbit for everyone as we head into March. Hope you enjoyed a good leap day and are excited to let the winter melt away into spring. I'm looking forward to changing things up around here.

I have finally decided on what my next tarot game will be about this month, so stay tuned within the following week or two. This game will likely not be as extensive as my last one, but it will last longer than my first game so more can join. I'm excited for this one, it'll definitely be more for fun. I'll send out a notice before I start it!

Today's pick a card reading is simply about what kind of blessings will be available for you this month. Here are the three piles to choose:

Pile 1 - Exquisite Emerald Pile 2 - Pure Turquoise Pile 3 - Jade Mountain

Pile 1

Emerald and Milk Thistle, Rescue, Avocado - Prosperity, The In-Between, 13 - Awareness; Knight of Swords, XX Judgement, Ace of Cups, 8 of Swords, 6 of Cups

How's it going, group 1? "Heal the Healer." I'm sensing that many consider you, or you consider yourself, to be a big helper for loved ones in daily life. The term "mom/dad friend" might sound familiar to you. Someone others can rely on, you're seen as a solid supportive friend in their regular troubles. Even with simple things like helping a friend move from their apartment, or getting a classmate's grade up in a class you excel with. At work, you may be the person others call on to take the extra shift. Sometimes, it was necessary, they had to take their pet in for an emergency. Other times, they just wanted a vacation and didn't really notice how taxing it was to ask so much from you.

Pile 1, March is the month to turn the tables around in time for the change of the season. "Help others in need or ask for assistance when you need it." You have the chance to ask someone else to help you out the same way you are often asked to help. March will bless you with the feeling of "having your back." The universe has been watching you struggle and is preparing your table for rewards to be served fresh. This help will likely come once you begin moving into a transitory phase. See how the Awareness card looks symmetrical to the In-Between card? These cards together remind me of the Moon card. You're in a state where one cycle has ended and another is beginning, you're already in that first phase so to speak. This space is full of uncertainty, and it's important to not listen to projections that speak of things as though they're going to happen just because they've happened before. The 6 of Cups involves overthinking about the past, assuming that things will be the same as they were before.

Allow the prosperous energy from Avocado to clarify the 8 of Swords here. You may be feeling stuck and unsure of where you're life is going next, but you know you can't enter the next chapter of your life worn out before you're even out of bed. Awareness features moonstone and mugwort on the card. You're being asked to pay attention to your dreams. Imagine what kind of prosperous things have happened in your past, and what kind of prosperity is available for you in the future, just before you fall asleep at night, then journal your dreams. Symbols may reveal themselves over time to give you clues for your conscious mind to consider. Your subconscious mind wants to help you with your stress, if that makes any sense, as it uses images and not words to speak.

Emerald is Venusian energy, and avocados are creamy enough to be made into dessert (ever had a chocolate avocado "cheese"cake? I have, it was actually very good!) March wants to bless you with a little indulgence. Ace of Cups says you will experience a lot of spiritual and emotional replenishment if you make it a focus to do so this month. If things are slow now, consider it a time of peace and budding opportunity. You may not be used to getting some needed rest if you're helping others out more, but the advice here is to take the time off as it comes, and make an intention to relax. Judgement card reminds you that the pace will pick up again soon, so enjoy some down time when you get it this March. Put some of that avocado on toast and enjoy your breakfast. Your body and soul will thank you.

Pile 2

Turquoise and Forget-Me-Not, Communicate, Artichoke - Renewal, Level Up, 9 - Self-Acceptance; 10 of Wands, Queen of Swords, I Magician, 10 of Swords, X Wheel of Fortune

Hey, pile 2. Hope you're doing well. I got a little concerned while shuffling the Earth Wisdom cards when the whole deck slipped and made a loud "thunk" on my table, right next to where the cracks in the Turquoise card. Do some of you live in a loud place, or near angry people who yell and slam doors? The dragon's face on the 10 of Wands looks like they're sick of hearing their neighbors upstairs. For others of you, this cracking is more internally. Do you feel as though you may be cracking under some kind of pressure at work or school? You may even be feeling the urge to let out a fiery rage breath as well.

The Turquoise card says "Balance". See the man rock climbing beside the cracks? It's easy to imagine he can keep going without stopping to catch his breath, but wouldn't that make him like Superman? This month, you'll be able to see exactly what you're capable of. You're recognizing your own talents and strengths. This is a month of learning how to do your best without wearing yourself thin, and it's because you're getting a more accurate picture of what you can do. It's like singing while having noise cancelling headphones in, so you can't hear yourself. March's blessing will take those headphones off so you can hear for yourself how good you sound. You'll see that you were trying harder than necessary. You can take a step back while still moving forward.

Turquoise is a stone well known in many cultures, but I personally read it as a stone of friendship. You'll be blessed with a good friendship or important connection, someone you can confide in with trust. "Things left unsaid will never reach the shore." With Queen of Swords, you're becoming more discretionary about your boundaries and who you speak with. You may have been going through troubles that are hard to talk about. The dragon's mouth is wrapped shut; it may have been a struggle even when you tried, as though you were scared of what your friend would think. Remember, pile 2, that a real friend will want to see you happy, will accept you for who you are, and will cheer you on as you climb to the top. Don't be afraid for long and much needed conversations in March, for as long as you approach it like the Queen here, a good talk will strengthen a relationship. And absolutely talk to someone if you're in need of immediate help, like with relocation.

March may be the start of a "phoenix" season for you, where you will have a gradually unfolding but nevertheless significant period of your life. See the subtle rainbow on the "100"? It was unintentional, the card reacted to my suncatcher and the rainbow just happened to land there glowing. If you're starting at a bottom, pile 2, then you're only going up from here, even if with some scars. Artichokes are actually immature flowers. The past cycle in your life may have felt "incomplete". March will be the beginning of you getting a second chance to let something like a project come into full bloom. Fun side note, but apparently March 16th is National Artichoke Day (in the US). So be on the lookout for an opportunity coming in for you around the 16th. It could be small, but it may be something that brings you into spring's energy of renewal and positive change. Don't forget to stay in touch with people who care about you this month, pile 2, because an outing with them could become a transformative experience for the both of you.

Pile 3

Jade and Pink Lotus, Generosity, Kale - Dedication, Letting Go, 21 - Shadow Treasures; XXI The World, 5 of Swords, XVI The Tower, XX Judgement, VIII Strength

Hello, group 3! March will be a refreshingly easy going month for you if you make the choice to kick back. You are "sinking into silence" after a long and very difficult time in your life. You, out of all three piles, desire to move forward with the year more than anyone. The silence in the jade card feels welcome. The change is long overdue and feels inevitable, so why rush to the starting line of a race? Especially after just finishing a few strenuous laps in the woods. This is a month-long sigh of relief. A quiet, easygoing time will be your primary blessing in March. Jade is bringing much due healing energy for you. Allow yourself the chance to meditate upon the time you've just experienced, as self-reflection can help us clear the way for us to see better.

I can't help but notice the way in which your cards form a picture of a tree falling apart. The leaves give way to autumn, as the trunk of the old fall maple tree lights up from the storms of change. At the roots, however, we see beauty still alive underneath. It shows that the same potential lies beneath, even if situations can look hopeless. Conflict was overgrowing around the tree, sapping it of its vitality. To let go and rebuild was the only way around it, to protect the delicate root system it had to downsize. A lot of growth will come from how you use this time now, because the last phase gave way for new seeds to grow. These seeds will no doubt benefit from what good was left behind, as it was ultimately meant to be shared and not kept hidden forever.

If this feels too abstract, I will liken it to decluttering the house. You may be in the mood to do that as well this month, and March may bless you with a more organized house. This is also a decluttering of old systems, thoughts, and behaviors that no longer work for you, letting you move ahead with a clean slate. If a messy house has been an issue for you, someone might come to help you sort it out, even spirit guidance kind of help. If clearing old things away is difficult, you'll be guided through it. You may have the opportunity to give old unwanted stuff away and even find something that you've been searching for a long time. "Where has that been?" It might not be easy to get started at first but it'll soon become much welcomed change once you notice the difference.

You have the word "treasure" show up twice in your reading. "What good is treasure if you keep it for yourself?" You may something special within yourself that gets discovered as you move through this month. It's a part of you that has gone unnoticed. But when things get quiet, the tiniest things become more noticeable. Things left unspoken creep out from the shadows. I actually don't see you going through shadow work this period, if anything you're walking from it the way a hero puts on sunglasses and walks away from a Michael Bay explosion without looking back. You've been like kale here, hardy in the face of a freezing winter, staying green in faith that spring will bring warmth and light soon enough. Some people don't believe kale has any nutritional value, but that's because they tastelessly judge from a distance. Once you unearth your own shadow treasures from your roots, don't be shy to share your gift with others. You might, like kale, become the next trend.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

With Good Weather Brings Good Breedings 🐰🌸 (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Poly!KiriBaku x Black!Bunny Girl!Reader

Synopsis: In which your spring cycle comes a little earlier than usual and you’re too afraid of your boyfriends–whom you’ve been dating for five months–thinking you’re weird instead of telling them about your cycle during mating season. However, during a picnic thrown especially for you, your two favorite pros are more aware than you realize and are more than happy to help you with your little problem.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS STAY TF AWAY), Poly Romance, AgedUp!Pro!Bakugou & Kiri (they’re in their late 20s), Black!Reader, Bunny Girl!Reader, Mating Cycle, In Heat, Dick Crazed, Public Sex/Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Foreplay, Nipple Play, Light Foot Fetish (Toe Sucking), Clit Stimulation, Overstimulation, Deepthroating, Biting/Nibbling, Hair/Ear Pulling, Tail Stroking, Spanking, Face Fucking, Light Hints of Dacryphilia, Degradation, Name Calling, Pet Names, Multiple Positions (Doggystyle, Full Nelson, Mating Press), Non-Protected PIV/Non-Safe Sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), Mentions of Breeding, Squirting, Creampies, Facials, Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Happy spring, y’all!! 🌸🌺🌻 Decided to celebrate by giving y’all another smutty short fic. You’re welcome, enjoy & thank you tons for the love on my work so far. Stay safe out there cuz COVID ain’t over. Wear your mask!! -Jazz

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Read on AO3 here!

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

CHAPTER ONE: GIRL TALK

You step out of the Uber you bought minutes ago after saying thank you to the driver and tipping him for his safe driving and comfortable leather seats.

As he drives away, you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the clean, cool, sweet-smelling air, hints of the warm sun, and fresh grass shavings from the park behind you infiltrating your senses.

‘Finally,’ you think as you stare up at the clear, blue sky. Spring is here.

Well, not technically since it’s a week away, but it might as well be officially here with the gorgeous weather now settling in. Gone are the cold winter days and snow on the ground. Now, all you see are flowers blooming on trees, kids in the park, and people sitting outside of the bistro you stand in front of.

You decided to meet up with your friends for lunch, both of who work at different agencies than you. Still in your cute little office fit from today, you walk into the quaint little bistro. It is not as packed on the inside as it is on the outside, so you’re able to find your friends immediately. They sit at a round table near the window, already having their cocktails and appetizers ready.

Mina aka pro hero Pinkie waves from her spot next to Jirou aka pro hero Earwig. “Y/N!” she shouts even though you’re a few feet away. “Over here!” You can see that Mina is dressed for the occasion in a pink sundress and a cropped jean jacket.

You giggle at your friend’s cute antics as you walk over to the table, giving each of them a squeeze. “Thanks for meeting me,” you coo as you take a seat across from them.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Mina replies before giving you a whistle. “Damn, girl, you look cute! I’d kill to have my ass look that good in a skirt!”

“Please,” you scoff but flush at her compliment. You admit you wanted to look cute today for the weather, your lunch date, and two particular people at the agency you work at. You went for a nice sweater, some comfortable heels, and a pencil skirt with the fabric cut out in the back to let your little cotton tail breathe.

You sit across from your friends with your ears free from the elastic band you usually put them in at the top of your head, both of them drooping down due to your relaxed state. As an animal hybrid, specifically a rabbit/bunny hybrid, you do everything in your power to be as discreet and as safe with your “animal parts” as possible. That means ruining your clothes to let your tail stretch and tying back your ears to avoid them getting pulled on.

“Thank you, but you look good in anything,” you tell Mina. You glance at Jirou in her oversized sweater and jeans that hug her slim hips. “You both do.”

“I tried to get her to ditch the sweater,” Mina says, nudging Jiro who playfully glares at her. “But I did manage to get her in the jeans!”

“And I look damn good,” Jirou snickers as their waitress comes over. You order your own cocktail and main course before the waitress hustles away and you dig into one of the appetizer plates set before you. “So how was work?” Mina asks as Jirou sips on her whiskey smash. “Since you changed the time for us meeting up, I’m guessing it was busy.”

“Oh, man, was it,” you huff, feeling good to have some food in you now. And to be sitting. Despite being an office assistant for two years, you were on your feet all day: scanning; running from floor to floor delivering papers; answering calls; sitting in on a meeting that your boss organized to meet with another agency CEO in America, and taking tons of notes, etc. Your poor little feet were about to explode!

You couldn’t wait for lunch to come which finally arrived at 1 PM. Once it did, you announced your departure to your boss and you were out. All your boss told you was to enjoy it. He trusts you and likes your work ethic, determination, and hardworking personality (as he’s told you before). You’re the type to stay late when no one else will and help out with extra tasks. That’s why you get extra leeway, such as having a two-hour lunch instead of just one.

“I’m shocked those two idiots even let you outside when you dress like this,” Jirou comments, nodding at the way your skirt hugged your hips. Mina giggles as you flush, sipping your cocktail. “Maybe Kirishima,” she purrs, wiggling her brows at you. “But definitely not Bakugou. I’m sure he’d force some sweats with his name printed on your ass for you.”

At the mention of your coworkers and boyfriends, you feel yourself get hot under your cashmere sweater. You sip your cocktail, twirling your tongue around the straw as you do, and advert your gaze from your all-too-knowing friends. They knew those two idiots at you by the heart, but they also knew you had them wrapped around your finger.

You’ve been dating Bakugou Katsuki aka Ground Zero and Kirishima Ejirou aka Red Riot for five months now. You’ve known them for two years since you worked at the same agency, though in different departments. While you were usually in the office, they were out patrolling and fighting crime, but occasionally stopped by to pick up reports or sit in meetings. You called them your coworkers since you technically worked together.

At least that’s what Kiri always dubbed you whenever he’d see you down the hall or in the cafeteria. “Hey, coworker!” he’d greet you with that big ass, sweet grin on his handsome face. You found yourself looking forward to seeing that smile and hearing that nickname as time went on and you got to know him better.

You didn’t know what to make about Bakugou for the two years you knew of him. He always seemed so cold and snapped easily, so you did your best to keep your distance. However, you still gave him a ‘good morning’ every time you saw him in the elevators or a ‘good night’ when you left the agency for the night. He never gave you so much as a nod or a look that always rubbed you the wrong way. You thought at first that he didn’t like you, mostly because of you being a bunny girl.

You weren’t blessed with the strength and phenomenal thighs of the bunny hero Rumi, but you did have the ears and the tail. Which is why you were sure Bakugou disliked you. People often have a misconception when it comes to bunny hybrid people, especially bunny girls: they’re too hyper; too jittery; too horny. None of that was true, which is why when you saw an opening for Bakugou and Kiri’s agency, you took it.

You wanted to prove to everyone that you were more than capable of being a ‘normal’ human being and a professional worker. Bakugou seemed to notice that eventually because one day, out of the blue, he complimented you on the PowerPoint presentation you gave for a meeting he and Kiri sat in on. “Nice presentation,” he said in his raspy, grumbly tone, which you realized was just his voice. “You know your shit.”

You were shook, blinking at him in shock. But he wasn’t being sarcastic or playing with you. Those vermillion eyes, which usually made you nervous, said it all. “T-Thank you,” you stuttered out.

That was over a year ago. Since that day, you, Bakugou, and Kiri became close friends. You ate lunch together, texted each other, and they walked you to the bus stop after work until they began driving you home. The romantic feelings that developed between you three came on strong but slow, but when it hit you, it hit you hard.

It hit you real hard. You began feeling that warm zing whenever they touched you or feeling your heart race whenever they gave you a smile. You were more than happy to keep these feelings to yourself, but they weren’t. So one Saturday night, they treated you to dinner and game night at their place. Under some candlelight and your belly filled with some good ramen was when they each took your hand and stared you down across their kitchen table with their eyes like sunken treasure.

“We like you,” Kiri had said softly, his cheeks a pale red. “Not just as a friend. As more. We want to be more with you.” You were in shock. Here two of the most popular and sexiest heroes were confessing their romantic feelings for you. You. Out of every model, celebrity, or famous woman in the world.

“We want you to be a part of what we have,” Bakugou added, stroking his thumb along your knuckles. “So don’t say yes unless you’re sure, dummy, ‘cause that’ll piss me off.”

After picking your jaw up off the floor and smoothing down your ears that shot straight up in excitement, you gave them both a genuine, needy yes and had the pleasure of tasting both of their lips for the first time. Each of their kisses had your foot twitching to thumb against the floor and your cotton tail begging to be stroked, but you managed to play it off cool. You three ended the night with some Mario Kart, ice cream, and cuddling on their couch.

Since that night, it’s been no one but you three. The past five months have been nothing short of amazing for you. While your relationship is still under wraps since people like to talk, Bakugou still walks past your cubicle to check up on you and Kiri always makes sure you get off and on the bus safely by standing at the stop whenever you’re going to or from work. It feels good to have them protect you. Worry over you. Adore you.

And though the five months have been amazing, there is still one thing missing. The sex. And that’s what you invited your two closest friends to talk about.

You sit up straight in your seat, feeling somewhat confident now that the alcohol is in you. “So I called y’all out here for a reason,” you begin, folding your hands on the table. “I wanted us to talk about something that’s been bugging me.”

Mina and Jirou sit at attention immediately, eyes on you even when the food comes. “We’re all ears, boo,” Mina says as she begins to chomp down on her burger. “Shoot!”

You wriggle your fingers nervously, trying to come up with a way to start this right. “So,” you begin, clearing your throat, “you when certain animals go into cycles when the spring comes?”

“You mean in heat?” Jirou asks, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, Momo and I have a kitten that went through that last year before she got her neutered. Why?”

You flush, embarrassment blooming in your chest, until Mina giggles. “Y/N, we know you go through heat, silly girl! You’re a hybrid; a bunny hybrid at that. Of course, you go through mating cycles!”

“But that’s just the thing,” you groan, frustrated already. “I haven’t been in a relationship while in heat in years. I’m usually always alone, so it’s easy to just hook up with someone or just use my toys. But now, with me being with Kiri and Katsuki…” You trail off, shame lodged in your core.

You have yet to talk to Katsuki and Kiri about your little “spring cycle.” Due to spring being mating season for many animals (especially mammals) you, as a hybrid AND a mammal, get it big time. It happens every year around the first week of spring but then fades over time and gets easier to manage when summer begins to come. It’s sort of like a period cycle except there isn’t any blood, cramps, or bloating.

However, you do ovulate, have tender breasts and mood swings, and become overly sensitive in terms of your body. Especially your nipples and clit. I’m talking about going braless and avoiding any mentions of sex to avoid your pussy going into hyperdrive. But this only happens during the first week of spring, which is the hardest stage to manage your life in.

You get so unbelievably, annoyingly horny. You awaken for days in a sweat and your pussy wet from the nastiest dreams you could imagine. You’ve had to have several bathroom breaks at work to get a nut because you’re unable to focus. You can hardly sleep at night, haunted by fantasies of getting bent over and fucked into a trapezoid, leading to you walking around with dark circles under your eyes and no tolerance for people who ask if they can touch your tail.

No amount of toys or stimulation with your fingers will help you during this stage if your body doesn’t agree with how many times you make yourself cum. Lately, you’ve been searching for hookups to cure you of your urges, but last year after one of your one-night stands pulled on your ears, you decided to cut off all kinds of physical contact with anyone when you’re in heat.

Well, until Kiri and Bakugou came into the picture.

But after the first stage is done, you’re usually fine. Once that first week is up, the second week is the second stage, and though you’re still horny, the level goes from 100 to about 50. You’re finally able to focus on daily tasks. You can sleep better. Giving yourself one nut is enough for you.

But now that you have two amazing, loving, and sexy partners–two that aren’t just hookups or FWBs–you are more than reluctant to tell them about your cycle, let alone have them even see you during it. You’ve already felt the first few symptoms of your cycle beginning to take root: naughty daydreams of the three of you together, hands and mouths on you; your body growing hot when one of them touches you; your tail and ears twitching at their scents.

You don’t know if you can handle your cycle this time. Not with Kiri and Bakugou in the picture. You’ve thought about asking them for a break until the spring ends, but even thinking about asking that of them makes you sick.

“Well, girl, that’s a given!” Mina replies to you, snapping out of your thoughts. Jirou nods, her mouth full of her lunch. “I’m sure Kiri and Bakugou know about your cycles. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be dating you. I mean, they have to know from the sex, right?”

Your friends look at you expectantly. You advert your eyes, instead staring out the restaurant window at the park across the street. Mina gasps, making you cringe. “No way,” she says, shocked. “You haven’t had sex with them yet? Y/N, it’s been five months!”

You stir your straw around your cocktail glass, biting your lower lip. “W-Well, we wanted to take it slow,” you murmur. “I told them about my less-than-satisfying past when it comes to relationships and sex, so we agreed to wait and get to know each other more.”

And it’s true: Kiri and Bakugou were more than happy to put sex on the back burner in the five months you began dating. You’ve come close a few times–nights during heated makeout sessions on your couch, Bakugou’s hands on your ass, Kiri’s hands cupping your face as his lips move against yours. But you’ve never gotten each other’s clothes off. You don’t even know what their dicks look like…but fuck, do you want to know. You’ve never wanted anything more!

But because of your past relationships ending before they began due to most of your partners wanting you to be a bunny girl out of a porno, and hookups that barely left you satisfied, you decided to act against temptation. You brought your concerns to your men’s attention three months into your relationship at your place after a movie and Bakugou’s hands down your pants.

“I just think we should slow down,” you said softly, each of your hands in theirs. “I really like you both, and I just don’t wanna move too fast, y’know?”

“Of course, cutie,” Kiri had cooed, nuzzling his face into your cheek. “Whatever makes you comfortable. We’d never cross any line with you to make you feel pressured.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Bakugou added. “Just stop wearin’ these around me unless you wanna get fucked silly.” His hand slid across your jeans, his fingertips squeezing your asscheek.

You almost regretted saying anything that night. While you were incredibly happy with them without that kind of physical contact, you couldn’t deny that you wanted them all over you. You wanted them to touch you; kiss you; tease you; use you; fuck you in every position possible and then cover you in their cum. You wanted to be covered in their kisses and smell like their cologne, their scents imprinted on you like tattoos.

But how the fuck are you supposed to tell them that? Plus, with the rep bunny girls get anyway, you wouldn’t want them to think of you the way other men you’ve been with have: a sex-crazed slut. When you did finally have sex with your boyfriends, you wanted it to mean more than just getting a nut.

“Well, how is this gonna work when you’re in heat?” Jirou asks curiously. “Don’t you have to fuck someone as part of your natural cycle?”

You looked down at your food, pushing it around your plate with your fork. “Well…yeah,” you admit. “Hence my past hookups. Usually, I’m good with just myself to help me out, but as I’ve gotten older, my urges have gotten more intense. But it’s different with Kiri and Katsuki! I really care about them and I don’t wanna jeopardize our relationship because I’m horny.”

“Did you ever think about them caring about you so much that’d they help you regardless of the sex?” Mina asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You blink at her because no, you haven’t thought about that at all. Mina hums knowingly. “Knowing those two and how crazy they are about you, they’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable, Y/N. So if they have to make you cum ten times to get you out of your cycle, then so be it!”

Though she’s probably right, you still feel that uncomfortable tug of anxiety in your tummy. How can they be so sure Kiri and Bakugou would be okay with this?

As if hearing your battling thoughts, Jirou reaches for your hand from across the table. “Just talk to them about it,” she says encouragingly. “That doesn’t hurt, right? Just bring it up the next time you see them and see what they say.”

That’ll be tomorrow since Kiri and Bakugou took off today for a break. “I’m sure you’re just freaking yourself out here, Y/N,” Mina says brightly. “Those morons would give anything to see you smile.” She smiles at you, winking. “Trust us.”

And though you smile back, you still feel those nervous butterflies fluttering about in your stomach.

This is gonna be a long spring.

[chiharuuu22]

Still wearing pajamas and warmed only by a cardigan, socks, and a blanket around his thighs, Whumpee sat in an armchair on the terrace and was propped up by pillows on either side. Beside him, Caretaker sat with him, accompanying him in a sweater and long skirt. The air still felt cold, even though it was already 9 a.m. Maybe the influence of early autumn.

Besides the two, there was a round table with two bowls of potato soup with thin slices of crispy beef and two glasses of water. Whumpee's favorite soup he started eating today after being able to only eat watery soup for a while.

Whumpee sat facing directly towards the lake, with the forest several tens of meters from the cabin where they were. His gaze was calm and peaceful, as if he no longer had any burdens to carry. Occasionally, Whumpee receives a bite of his soup from Caretaker who patiently helps him eat.

"Want to go there?" Caretaker offered after wiping Whumpee's mouth. "We can go to the lake this afternoon when it's warmer, if you want."

Caretaker returned to feeding Whumpee, saying, "It's not good to stay inside all the time. You need a new atmosphere and a breath of fresh air other than on this terrace."

"I like it in here," Whumpee answered after swallowing his soup. "But I guess it wouldn't be bad to go to the lake there. What's there?"

"Not much, but I thought you'd like it," Caretaker stroked the back of Whumpee's hand. "We can see beautiful views. Now and then, some people come to fish or boat. Freshly caught fish from the lake tastes delicious. There are lots of rabbits there. There are very beautiful flower fields when spring comes. If you're lucky, you can see a deer or a fox peeking shyly from the opposite forest."

"That sounds interesting. I think I'll want to go there later," said Whumpee. "I'm surprised; I never knew you had a cabin here."

"This belonged to my late parents. When I was little, we often came here to vacation and relax from the hustle and bustle of the city," explained Caretaker with a smile, and she returned to feeding soup to Whumpee. "A suitable place for your recovery, right? Quiet, peaceful, comfortable, and you don't have to worry about anything here."

Whumpee smiled and held Caretaker's hand. "Yes, it feels very comfortable. Thank you."

Caretaker smiled and grabbed Whumpee's hand back. "Come on, let's finish your breakfast, take medicine, clean up, then let's get ready to go to the lake!" said Caretaker cheerfully.

"You say that, but you haven't touched your food at all. You just keep feeding me," protested Whumpee. "Your soup is getting cold."

Caretaker laughed, "How about it, huh? I'm full just watching you eat like this."

"What answer is that?" Whumpee protested again but didn't refuse when a spoonful of soup was brought to his mouth. "Eat too, Caretaker."

Caretaker laughed and started feeding herself soup, making Whumpee smile widely. Caretaker feels very grateful for simple moments like this. Seeing Whumpee get healthier and hearing about the good progress of the problems they were having with Whumper. Indeed, it's not every day that they feel calm because now and then the Team Leader or other members come and give them lots of news, or they provide updates on the tasks that the Team Leader has given them. Hey, even though Caretaker and Whumpee are far from the Team, they still carry out their duties well. Except for Whumpee, who still needs a lot of rest.

[newbornwhumperfly]

no one will feed you anymore...

oh, y’all know what time it is by now, don’t you? 😈🥺😈 i stretched the definition of this delightful prompt - @whumpmasinjuly day 12: caught - and it really stirred my creativity! so it's time for morja to sufferrrrrrrrrr...😭😭😭

(sidenote: this training scenario was heavily insp. by this incredible art by @elgrajaz cause it gives such whumperflies 😍)

title insp. by this concept art quote by jenny holzer - "if you're considered useless, no on will feed you anymore."

~

Your job today is to run. 

Until, anotèros?

There’s a blister on his ankle already. The friction of the shoe against skin, the rub-rub-rub, burn, burn, heat, sore, heat, foot falling flat against the ground, push off, spring forward, burn. 

Until you catch up.

Morja blinks wet into his eyes and it stings, blurs, his feet pound their rhythm still. Can’t wipe it away. Keep going. He knows where he’s going and he doesn’t need to see. Just run. 

Chase the buggy. The small white cart and the whine of the wheels as it speeds ahead, the anotèros driving, the anotèros with the stopwatch in his hand, the black glasses, don’t watch his face, just run.  

He has caught the buggy before. Dog with rabbit in his teeth. Grab the bar, swing himself into the backseat, stopwatch clicking stop. 

But it is so hot.

What is this track made of, anotèros? 

His trainer’s eyes had squinted, slitted sideways down at Morja, and the skin of his palms itched. 

The burn is all over. Heat. Heat in the legs, the thighs, the feet, the pulse of fire through each foot. 

Raw, sharp, prick of fire, as the blister peels. Heat. Blood. Blood in the sock. Bad. Wash later. Run. 

Keep going. 

Keep going.

The heat is inescapable. It’s the worst part, really, of anything. He’s lived in heat. Used to heat. Born in it, raised in it, put in it day after day and still, it is the most inescapable. 

Polyurethane, mostly. Does that answer your question, diathèsimòs?

Morja’s palms itched harder and he squeezed them into balls behind his back.  

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. 

Good. Now get out there and run. 

Fire jars through his chest with each breath, breath dragging sharp across his lungs, filling up with knives, throat a razor trap, chest a dozen blade tips. Breathing out is an ache but better, better than swallowing the fire of air. 

Back straight. Drag air through the nose. Thick, rubber-scented, hot. It’s so hot in the building, foggy, every window had fog on it when he walked in today. 

Polly-your-a-thane. Rubber. That’s the smell. Mixed with latex. The stuff that sticks to skin. Poured over asphalt. Bouncy over solid. 

Knowing why your shoes stick to the track in the rain, in the heat, in the cold, doesn’t make you faster. It doesn’t help. 

Morja sees sweat gleam on his trainer’s head, wrist swiping it away, the stopwatch gleaming bright, pinpoint-sharp, and the lights are bright. Big bulbs in the ceiling that hum against his skin they’re so blue-bright-sharp. 

Keep up. 

His sides pulse. The pulse has started now and the stabbing will only get stronger. Stitch. A needle pulling air through his body on a barbed thread. Poke. Drag. Poke. Drag. 

They haven’t told you to stop.

Morja always has to remind himself his throat isn’t bleeding. It feels like it is. It isn’t. Not like his feet. Those are bleeding. 

He can’t even hear the clink of his cuffs, thick leather slick and sticking to his flesh in an itching snick-snick-snick at every jostle. The piston of his elbows at his sides is short and doesn’t yank the chains trailing behind the buggy. 

The slow whir of wheels-on-rubber is just a buzz now. Everything is a buzz, ears full of static, only the thudthudthud of blood rushing, water, past his ears, like his head is under the water, don’t think just run. 

He won’t catch up to the buggy if he doesn’t run.

(It will outrun him anyway. That’s the point. It has to. Of course it will. It’s a buggy and Morja is on foot. There is no point.)

No. He can catch the buggy. He was told to and he can. 

Keep the pace. This track doesn’t end. Run. 

Inescapable.

Run.

He is a diathèsimòs and he must keep running. 

The thud of his shoes against the track, the springing-then-solid, the reaching out with one hand, no, not close enough to reach and sweat blinds him again. Fuck. 

He should have caught them already. 

He must catch them. 

Every step burns. Every breath burns. The lights burn. The track is a circle and he rounds a corner into a corner into a corner in pursuit. 

The length of chain yanks, every step jolts his ribs against the inside of his skin, like every step jolts cuff against wrist, the chain growing tauter, the breaths shorter, harsher, dragging, razorwire, like the lungs being whipped. 

The shredded grunt of each breath can’t be coming from him, he doesn’t think, but it must be. It’s so loud in his ears, like his heartbeat, as knife of breathing stabs, stabs, stabs. 

The buggy is getting further away, inch by inch, and there is no way his lungs can bleed, like a horse. He is a diathèsimòs and his lungs don’t bleed. 

Breathing and seeing are fire. 

Hot rubber and hot copper and the itch of sweat is all he can think about. The sting of it in his open blisters. The crawl of it down the waistband of the pants, into the neck of the shirt, in his dry mouth like spit, in his dry eyes like tears. 

The track is designed to help you not slip. That’s how running tracks are made. That’s why the rubber smells so strong. 

But a stab, too-sharp, too-blinding, doubles him. He jerks against the cuffs and it’s done. The buggy keeps going and Morja doesn’t and his shoes fly out from under him and he hits the track. 

Rubber. Asphalt. Body. 

All the ragged breath is slammed from his lungs as his chest hits the ground, chin tucked against the fall, and the track burns across every inch, shoulders sharp and shocking at the jarring pull, pull, pull, dragged behind the buggy-

“Stop! Time.”

The burning stops and Morja lays there, heaving, light pulsing with every sharp heartbeat behind his eyelids, and he’s curled up on the ground, arms stretching out with their chains behind the buggy. 

Get up. 

He can’t.

Then kneel. 

Rolling, belly first, then dragging one leg, burning, stabbing, shaking, up beneath him. Another. He does kneel up and his lids, bleary, blink open as the shape of his anotèros floats from the buggy. The squeak of leather as the shape bends to crouch in front of him, a rolling smell as sharp and bright and cold as the overhead bulbs swallows him up, clean scent and sharp corners, holding up a gleaming pinpoint in Morja’s face. 

The stopwatch. 

The only cold Morja’s felt today stabs into the hollow of his stomach as numbers, bright electric lines, become clear. 

Slow. 

Fuck. 

I was slow.

“Gonna have to work on your speed, diathèsimòs. Guess you didn’t manage to catch up. You know the drill - don’t stop running until we’re caught.” 

Morja tastes blood in his mouth. Not from his lungs. Of course not. He takes his teeth out of his cheek and the smell of rubber fills his nose as he bows his head to the ground. 

Polyurethane, soft against his skin. 

“…Yes, anotèros.”

~ oooh, a little glimpse into morja's training regimen, which is very fair and achievable!! 🥺🥺🥺

taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @haro-whumps @whump-tr0pes @whumpthisway @i-eat-worlds

@wolfeyedwitch @whumpzone @whumping-every-day @redwingedwhump @straight-to-the-pain

@stoic-whumpee @liliability @whatgoeswhumpinthenight @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpster-draganies

@whump-me-all-night-long @suspicious-whumping-egg @scoundrelwithboba @kixngiggles @tears-and-lilies

i hope everyone has a very merry @whumpmasinjuly! 💖💖💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[sylvia-forest]

[CN] Shaw's Target Locked Date

⚡Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a Date which hasn't been released in EN yet!⚡

[Released Date: 1 May 2024]

[Section 1]

MC: Slow down! I'm so full.

Shaw: Tsk, who was the one claiming they were 'starving to death' and bragging they could eat a whole cow and a whole pig before we left?

Shaw's exam week finally ended. After eating and drinking our fill on the commercial street, we walked home together.

Although he said this, his steps still slowed down.

MC: I just didn't perform well today and ate a bit too quickly, otherwise I would have... Shaw: Otherwise what?

Shaw took my hand and put it in his pocket.

Shaw: The thing about rabbits is that they have big eyes and small mouths. They want to eat everything, but they can't get enough. Shaw: Fortunately, I ate more than half of it, saving them from a life of wandering in the trash can.

As he spoke, he raised his eyebrows and a proud smile appeared on his face.

MC: Since when do you like doing 'good deeds'? If you want to eat with me, just say so directly instead of beating around the bush.

The winter afternoon sun was just right. When we passed by the small park near our home, we saw that it had been beautifully decorated with a vibrant array of festive flowers, freshly planted.

MC: That place looks so beautiful. Since there's nothing to do at home, let's walk a bit more.

Shaw: Sure, I found that being overly full has some benefits. MC: Hm? Shaw: Doesn't this increase your motivation to exercise?

After that, he pinched my cheek and pulled me towards the park.

There weren't many people in the park. Although the trees and plants were not as lush as in spring and summer, the cypress and holly landscaping complemented each other, preventing the scene from appearing monotonous.

Colorful decorations were hanging from the street lamps on both sides. Shaw and I followed the fitness trail all the way to the flower bed in the center of the park.

The festive flowers were in full bloom. Just as I was about to take out my phone to take pictures, a rustling sound accompanied by a meowing noise caught my attention.

A long-haired tabby cat was pawing at the flower bed, with some snack crumbs beside it.

Seeing me approach, it raised its tail high, bared its teeth, and growled, as if in a defensive stance.

Shaw: This cat is quite fierce, a bit like some people when they're angry. MC: ……. MC: Some people really accuse others before they even do anything wrong.

Seeing that we weren't getting any closer, the tabby cat started eating the remaining food again, occasionally looking up to keep an eye on us.

MC: We just packed some tuna sashimi earlier. Shall we give it some? Shaw: Sure, let it celebrate the new year too.

As he spoke, he opened the bag he had just brought back from the restaurant, took out two pieces of fish and placed them not far from the flower bed.

Shaw: Go ahead and eat. But remember, if you take food, you shouldn't be mean. Shaw: Don't be aggressive with that silly rabbit after eating.

Shaw stepped back a few steps after placing the food, but the tabby cat still seemed wary of us and was unmoved by the tempting food.

I had to step forward, pick up a piece of fish, and place it closer to the cat, using a common trick for attracting cats—

MC: Kitty~

This time, the tabby cat seemed to smell the fish. After cautiously approaching to confirm it was food, it swiftly moved closer.

Shaw: Heh, this cat is quite…

Before Shaw finished speaking, the next second, the tabby cat grabbed the fish in its mouth and ran off into the bushes.

Shaw: So rude.

—

[Section 2]

Shaw: Are you feeling better? MC: I'm fine. I feel much better after taking the medicine.

I took the warm water that Shaw handed me and collapsed onto the sofa.

After we got back yesterday, my stomach felt uncomfortable. Although Shaw seemed fine, I still suspect it might have something to do with the big meal we had.

MC: Do you think it could be that the sashimi from yesterday wasn't fresh?

Shaw: Isn't it more likely that the ice cream we had after the meal is to blame? Shaw: Besides, you were looking at flowers and feeding cats along the way, so maybe you got a cold in the park.

MC: That possibility can't be ruled out. But if it wasn't the ice cream...

Something suddenly occurred to me.

MC: The cat in the park also ate the sashimi. Do you think it also got a stomach ache?

Shaw: You just got better and now you're worried about the cat?

MC: If it really was the sashimi, I'd feel quite sorry for it. Being a stray and having a stomachache... that's even more pitiful.

Shaw: …Alright, let's go check on it. And we can also settle the score for it running off yesterday.

Shaw and I brought some cat food and went to the park to look for the cat.

We searched around the flower bed and the nearby bushes, but there was no sign of the cat.

MC: Could it be that we just happened to meet him yesterday?

Shaw: Why are you in such a hurry?

He motioned for me to be quiet. Once there was silence, the faint sound of a cat's meow reignited my hope.

The sound seemed to be coming from near the rock garden not far away. Shaw and I exchanged a glance and with a mutual understanding, we lightened our steps and slowly approached it.

When we made our way around to the back of the rock garden, we saw a tortoiseshell cat crouched by the edge of the weeds.

Shaw: Tsk, it's not that one. MC: …But since we've come across it, let's give it some cat food anyway.

I just took out a small bowl to pour some cat food when a fierce meow came from the side.

Immediately, a familiar small figure leapt over and stood in front of the tortoiseshell cat.

The tabby cat growled at us, looking quite protective and formidable.

MC: .......This scene seems a bit familiar.

Shaw: Are these two a pair? Is there no such thing as a single cat in the cat world?

Shaw's words brought a smile to my face , and I couldn't help but think that the cats we met together were indeed a pair.

The fierce mountain king couple, plus Big Fat and Little Mimi from the neighborhood.

[T/N]: The first one is from his Great Conductor Date and as for the other one unfortunately I forgot to post this pet date (⁠●⁠_⁠_⁠●⁠)

Although this tabby cat doesn't look as strong as the mountain king, its temperament is indeed somewhat similar.

Seeing that we weren't scared off, the tabby cat's growls became even fiercer.

Shaw: It's quite energetic. I think it's in very good condition. MC: It's a relief that it's feeling fine. We can finally relax.

Seeing that the tabby cat seemed perfectly fine, I gently pulled Shaw back a few steps.

Maybe because it saw us retreating, the tabby cat hissed a couple more times, but the next second, it got a few swats from the tortoiseshell cat, immediately losing its earlier bravado.

Shaw: Oh, there's always something that can keep something else in check. Shaw: This female cat looks weak, but is actually much more ferocious than the male cat. Shaw: But it’s quite perceptive, knowing we're good people. MC: It probably saw that we brought cat food. They must be hungry.

The tortoiseshell cat meowed at me twice. When I looked closely, I noticed its belly was somewhat swollen, possibly because it's expecting kittens.

Meanwhile, the tabby cat had also quieted down and nuzzled against the tortoiseshell cat.

Shaw snorted, looking like he couldn't bear to watch, and stepped aside to give me space.

I poured some cat food into a small bowl, and together with Shaw, we placed the bowl a bit farther away.

After seeing us walking away a little, the two cats started to eat food.

While the tabby cat had just been swatted, it showed no sign of anger at all, and even let the tortoiseshell cat eat first.

Seeing the two cats in such a harmonious scene, I couldn't help but glance at Shaw.

His usually careless face also had a smile on the corner of his mouth.

MC: Although this tabby cat is a bit fierce, he still loves his girlfriend very much. He won’t hit or scold her back. MC: Isn’t that right, Shaw?

I intentionally raised my voice, infusing a subtle emphasis into the way I pronounced his name, conveying a hidden meaning.

Shaw: This is called 'the big cat has a big heart'.

Seeing him looking so pleased with himself, I angrily waved my fists at him. But the moment my fist was about to land, Shaw swiftly grabbed it in his palm.

Shaw: Is it necessary to use violence if you can't say it? MC: Now I believe its greatest strength lies in its brevity.

Seeing Shaw about to say something, I pretended to use my other hand to cover his mouth, but he agilely dodged it.

Shaw: Save your energy. I'm still skilled enough to handle your clumsy kung Fu moves.

—

[Section 3]

On our way back, it started to snow lightly.

I didn't expect the snow to get heavier after we got home from lunch. I was just scrolling through my phone when a notification popped up from the municipal department, informing us of something.

MC: The city will experience cold weather tonight, with a risk of icy roads. All units and individuals are advised to take necessary precautions to stay warm and safe.

Looking at the snowflakes falling more and more outside the window, I couldn't help but worry about the two cats in the park.

The mother cat was expecting kittens. I wonder if she can make it through.

MC: Why don't we bring some warm items for the cat? That rock garden is exposed to the wind from all sides...

Before I could even finished speaking, Shaw emerged from the bedroom fully dressed and walked swiftly to the entryway in a few strides.

I was stunned for a moment, but he had already put on his shoes and was leaning against the wall, smiling at me.

MC: Huh? Where are you going?

Shaw: The park. Aren't you worried? Let's go check them out. MC: Are you clairvoyant? How did you show up right when I was mumbling? Shaw: I'm clairvoyant. If you keep staring into the distance, you'll turn into an ice sculpture. Do you think I can't guess what you're thinking? Shaw: Put on your gloves and let's go.

When we arrived at the park with the blanket, we found that the tortoiseshell mother cat wasn't in good condition. Though it took some effort, we successfully brought both cats to the hospital.

Since the mother cat was a bit weak, the doctor recommended keeping her under observation. The tabby cat was fine, so after getting vaccinated, we temporarily took it to our home.

But I didn’t expect——————

Shaw: Don't run!

The sofa cushions were scattered messily on the floor, the tissue box on the coffee table was scratched up, and next to the overturned teacup was a trail of cat paw prints damp with water.

We followed the wet paw prints to the kitchen, where a paw sticking out from behind the curtain revealed the culprit's hiding spot.

Shaw put on an apron, tossed me a pair of kitchen gloves, and then moved forward to pull back the curtain. Together, we cornered the tabby cat against the wall.

Realizing it had nowhere to escape, the tabby cat let out a low growl, making a final stand.

MC: Little kitty, you can't keep wrecking the house...

I tried to soothe it as I bent down and reached out to pick it up, but that gave it the perfect opportunity.

The tabby cat suddenly made a dash, trying to escape between Shaw's and my legs.

Shaw: Where to run!

Shaw reacted quickly, grabbing the tabby cat by the scruff of its neck and putting it back into the carrier.

Although the place was a mess, half an hour of battling wits and nerves had left us both exhausted.

I leaned closer to Shaw, and he raised his arms and hugged me directly.

MC: Fortunately, you are here, otherwise the whole house would be turned upside down.

Shaw: It’s quite clever. We tried to change its cushion to make it more comfortable, and it took the opportunity to escape.

At this moment, though confined in the carrier, the tabby cat still hadn’t given up its resistance.

It kept pawing at the carrier, trying to push open the door with its paws. After several unsuccessful attempts, it switched to vocalizing its dissatisfaction at us.

First he growled a few words, and then there was an angry "meow, meow, meow, meow".

Cat: Meow! Meow! Meow%meow&! Meow meow meow! Meow meow meow meow!

Shaw: Although I don’t understand it, this guy must have scolded me quite unpleasantly.

MC: ......I feel so too.

Seeing that it wasn’t stopping, I decided to use food to try to calm it down.

MC: Maybe eating something will help.

I got up to fetch some cat food and carefully placed it inside the carrier using a bottle cap.

The tabby cat sniffed it but wasn’t moved, and even growled at me twice.

Shaw sprang up from the sofa, took a few strides to the carrier, and leaned down to stare at the tabby cat.

Shaw: Hey, don't blame me for responding to violence with violence.

Sensing Shaw's "aura of intimidation," the tabby cat turned its head away and let out two low meows.

But then, there was a series of familiar "meow meow meow meow".

MC: What should we do? We can't let it continue to scream like this.

I was a little helpless, but Shaw raised his eyebrows slightly and turned his head, looking confident.

Shaw: Don’t you have an online meeting later? Shaw: You go first and I'll take care of it.

—

[Section 4]

By the time I got to the living room after the meeting, the mess had been sorted out.

The tabby cat was released and was now lying in a corner of the living room. From the next room, I could hear Shaw’s intermittent voice where he was making a phone call.

Although I don't know how Shaw "solved" it, seeing that it didn't look as fierce as before, I felt a little relieved and walked slowly to the flight box.

MC: Don’t you like this cat food?

Seeing that the cat food I put in just now showed no sign of being touched, I planned to open a can for it first and wait for Shaw to finish the call before asking for details.

I took the opened can and put it in front of the tabby cat, but it was still unmoved after smelling it just like before.

I persistently shook the can of food in front of it, but the tabby cat just twitched its ears.

Shaw: Why do I get the bad attitude from you, while you’re so gentle with these little guys? Playing favorites?

Shaw poked his head out of the room and curled his lips.

MC: You finished your call? Why did you let it out? Aren't you afraid it’ll wreck the house again? Shaw: Of course it's because it's solved.

Shaw walked over to me and picked up the tabby cat from the floor.

Shaw: I've trained it well, if you don't believe it, look at it.

Shaw held the cat's hind legs with one hand, supported its chest with the other, and handed it over to me.

MC: Be careful, don't let it scratch you. Shaw: Its arrogance has long disappeared. Isn't it submissive now? Shaw: Now it's on my side of the battle. MC: Phew, then I’m even more “scared”!

Seeing Shaw mischievously lift the cat again, I instinctively closed my eyes and laughed, pretending to surrender with raised hands.

Although the cat moved a bit instinctively, as Shaw said, there was no sign of violence or retaliation. It even yawned.

Its previously fierce appearance now seemed somewhat cute and endearing.

The afternoon sun shines through the window and onto Shaw's body, creating a warm glow.

Compared to the scene of battling wits just now, the current moment of harmony between the person and a cat seems particularly peaceful and idyllic.

MC: He's so well-behaved and quite cute. Shaw: The biggest hero without exaggeration, should we praise it? MC: Don't you know your prowess extends beyond this? It's too early for praises. Shaw: You've got quite the foresight, well noted.

He put the cat down, turned around and placed the can in front of it.

The tabby cat sniffed around, glanced at Shaw, then leisurely started eating.

Shaw: Mission accomplished. MC: Wow, you are quite capable! Just now, it refused to eat no matter how much I fed it. MC: Looks like you've gained quite a bit of experience from Mountain King and Little Flower. Shaw: It's okay, mainly because of good understanding.

As he spoke, Shaw raised his hand and touched the tabby cat head. Looking at the cat's obedient appearance, I couldn't help but be curious.

MC: How to train it well? Can you teach me too~

Shaw: Teach you? What is the reward? Shaw: This is top secret. I'll have to see if it's a good deal and then tell you. MC: What do you want in return? Shaw: Look at you. Shaw: But you should know that I like to be paid sincerely.

Shaw casually shrugged his shoulders, then slightly leaned forward, a mischievous gleam in his narrow eyes.

With the sudden closeness, I already had a good idea of what was coming, but seeing his determined look, I didn't want to be led by him.

MC: …….. Shaw: While I'm in a good mood now, if you ask later, the reward will be doubled.

Knowing he always follows through on his word, despite feeling a bit annoyed, curiosity got the best of me. After some hesitation, I pecked at his cheek.

MC: .......Is this reward enough? Shaw: Not bad, I guess there's some sincerity in it.

The corners of Shaw's lips raised, not hiding the bright smile in his eyes.

He immediately took out his mobile phone and clicked on the video file inside.

The purring sound came through, and in the video, the tortoiseshell cat was being well taken care of, sleeping on a soft cushion, even comfortably changing its position.

It turned out that he asked someone from the hospital to take a video of the female cat.

Perhaps hearing a familiar voice, the tabby cat also came over.

Shaw handed me the phone, and the tabby cat ran over to my arms, even rubbing against me in a friendly manner.

Shaw: This guy, whoever has his girlfriend in their hands, he'll cozy up to them.

Watching the peacefully sleeping cat in the video, I replayed it again.

Shaw: Scroll down, there are several more. Shaw: Just now I asked the doctor for some new ones, but I haven't had time to see them yet.

In the next video, the tortoiseshell cat had already woken up from its nap. It watched as the doctor approached with a cat treat, mewling softly.

Shaw mischievously reached out to block it, but to everyone's surprise, the tabby cat actually followed his hand, as if inviting Shaw to pet its head.

Seeing the helplessness and a little disgust on his face, I couldn't help but laugh.

MC: Actually, its temper is quite good. It's probably only aggressive towards us because of its girlfriend. Shaw: How long has it been since they last saw each other? And it's already like this. Shaw: I thought it had some kind of fierce temperament, but it turns out it's just a lovesick fellow. MC: Lovesick? MC: ......Okay, I get it now. MC: So, some people haven't seen each other for a few days during exam week. I found out that their phone screens have my photo on them, and they call me every day— MC: Could it be they're trying to cure lovesickness?

Thinking about how eager he looked when talking about rewards earlier, I deliberately elongated my tone.

Seemingly caught off guard by my remark, Shaw paused for a moment, then slowly uttered a response.

Shaw: That's different. MC: What's the difference? Shaw: I'm much more handsome than him.

—

🐈 Call

[honeii-puff]

The perfect moment

In which Soren gets caught in a snare @sorinethemastermind as an apology for this morning Listen to The Perfect Moment by Dawid Ocheduszko for full immersion

Soren just wanted to go on a hike. He woke up that early October morning and thought the weather would be good for a hike. That’s why he’d bought the cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere, New York.

That, and the woods provided good inspiration for his poetry during the fall. He and Claudia took turns with the cabin; she usually commandeered it during the winter and spring months, while he’d spend weeks at a time during the rest of the year.

Now, he was hanging upside down by his leg from a rope attached to a tree like a cartoon character. The blood rushing to his caused temporary spots to dance in his vision, hurting his head.

He squeezed his eyes closed, digging his palms into them in an attempt to clear the spots, before using his core muscles to bend upward and inspect the rope holding him up.

The rope was sturdy, clearly good quality– the stuff that cost an arm and a leg in this economy– and the knot was tight around his ankle. Great handiwork, too. Whoever made the snare really knew what they were doing.

Probably weren’t trying to catch him, though. He figured ex-army men in flannel and polyester were less appetizing for dinner than a rabbit or waterfowl.

This is what I get for going on a hike during hunting season. He thought, scrunching his nose in thought, unbending himself to give his core muscles a break. He blinked the spots out of his eyes again before patting his pockets. A small flare of panic went through Soren, not feeling his notebook in his pocket.

Or his pen, but that was easier to replace compared to the months of poetry that was in the notebook and the notebook alone.

Looking around, he eventually spotted it on the ground below him, lying over the carpet of dead leaves covering the ground. It must’ve fallen out when he got caught.

Shit. He could’ve at least been writing while waiting to find a way to get out.

Soren sucked in a breath before bending back up again, letting the blood flow from his head before looking at the knot again.

Double overhand noose…

He patted his pockets, feeling for his pocket knife, before silently cursing. He had left it on the counter, not expecting to need it.

Of course, the one time I leave it at home I actually need it. Stupid. He chided himself.

He heard a small rustling behind him, and unbent himself, pausing to let the head rush pass before looking around.

When the spots subsided, he found himself face-to-face with a shock guy. Seemed to be around his age, maybe a bit older. Dark skin, and short dreads flopped over on one side. And carrying a bow, which was the least surprising bit of it all, considering rifle season hadn’t started yet. 

“You’re not a rabbit.” He stated, looking at him.

“That I am not.” Soren tilted his head slightly. “Unless I’ve grown ears and a tail within the last…” He checked his watch. “Five minutes. Nice rope, by the way.”

“Thanks. I made it.”

That made… a lot of sense, actually. 

“Well, as much as I’m enjoying this current conversation from where I’m hanging, care to cut me down, handsome?” Soren grinned, and the guy seemed to snap out of weird staring thing he had going on.

“Right. Sorry.” He took a few steps back before drawing his bow and shooting it. Soren felt the air as it whizzed past him, and after hearing a small snap, he fell onto the ground in the least graceful way possible.

“Way to let a guy down gently.” He groaned, rolling over onto his back before getting up. He picked up his notebook and pen, tucking both back into his pocket before turning to look at the guy. “I’m Soren.”

“Corvus.” The guy– Corvus– said, holstering the bow on his back. “I didn’t know anyone else was out here.”

“Yeah,” Soren stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Thought today would be a good day for a hike to get out of the cabin for a bit, got stuck in a rabbit trap.” He shrugged. “Don’t know what I was expecting.”

“Is this a common occurrence for you?” Corvus raised an eyebrow, and he shook his head.

“Nah. If it was, I would’ve had the wits to actually bring my knife with me this time.”

He let out a soft laugh. “You’re funny. And military.”

Soren raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. Army. How’d you get that?”

“Your posture,” Corvus explained. “You stand a bit straighter, less of a natural curve to your spine.”

Soren glanced down at his feet briefly. Had he been doing that?

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” Soren shrugged again. “You headed off?”

He paused before answering. “I’ve been out since 5, I probably earned a break.”

He whistled. “Damn. Early riser naturally or do you have some unspoken military habits too?”

“More like wilderness training habits,” Corvus answered, leaning against the side of a tree. “Still running on camp time from August.”

“Adventurous,” Soren commented, leaning against one of the trees, the act causing a few leaves to shake loose and fall into his face.

“Thank you?” It sounded more of a question, causing him to laugh.

“It’s a good thing, trust me.”

“Good to know.”

[littlemarianah]

Prompt: “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?”

@tetheredfeathers and I started a challenge to write a text between 500 - 1000 words with this prompt.

Click >here< to see her version of this.

Just something fun to pass the time... I ended up writing my new non-reaped AU project, where Katniss and Peeta never go to the games.

I'm tagging these three incredible and talented writers to continue our challenge.

@mollywog @nightlocked-in @rainymyx

title:

The streak of luck.

A tide of luck had swept over me the last few weeks. Spring is always the best time of year to find things in the woods, but this year I outdid myself. I found two bee hives full of honey. It was very painful and I spent days recovering from the bee stings, but I managed to bring two bags full of honeycombs to sell on the rob. Honey is a rare item in district twelve, so it made me a lot of money.

I think that since spring began, there hasn't been a day that goes by that I don't come home with something to sell with. From juicy wild berries to Turkeys, swallows and wild dogs. I've been finding things more valuable lately.

This month, we had the luxury of spending more stuff than just on food. I was able to buy new boots for Prim, cold coat for me and a supply of oils for my mother to make ointments and resell.

And in the end there was still money left. So I bought a sewing thread and a needle. I grabbed my mother's old white dress from the back of the closet. She and Prim did all the repairs for me. Then I took my dress to Hazelle and paid her a good amount to wash it. She asked me for bleach, to remove the yellow stains from age and mold. Then she asked me for violet fabric paint. It was difficult to find something like that on the black market, it ended costing me a whole rabbit.

I was afraid it would turn my dress purple, but she said that the dye mixed in hot water removes all the yellow stains and makes the dress white like never before.

She was right. It was so beautiful it looked like I had bought it brand new.

As I get older and become more and more like my mother, her dress looks more and more like it was made out for me. The straight cut at the collar makes my long neck - which Peeta praises so much - stand out. The long sleeves hide my thin arms. The tight waist makes it my hips look more accentuated than they actually are. It's a simple dress, it looks like a nightgown. However, its fabric is so elegant that I look like a bride from the big city.

My mom puts my hair in a low bun and Prim makes a lavender flower crown to match spring.

The shoes I will wear are a problem. I only have my beat-up hunting boots and old school shoes. None suit the occasion. My mother's shoes are beautiful, but they are so tight on me. I refuse to spend the whole afternoon limping.

There is a third option, which I don't like very much. There are the shoes I used to wear at the reaping. The last time I wore them I was 19 years old, two years ago. This blue heels are so old they look gray.

I wish I had thrown them away, but you can never waste resources like that. Shoes are expensive. Even if they don't bring back good memories, they are still valuable. My mother cleans them and rubs them with lard to make them shiny. I feel weird, but it's my best option at the moment.

So here I am, dressed like a spring bride. And there he is, dressed like a merchant groom. Waiting for me at the door of the Justice Building.

He has combed his hair back and applied gel to keep the curls in place. A perfectly ironed white shirt, black pants with a silver buckle belt and a brown suit over everything, which make his shoulders pointy. He's perfect. On his feet are also his reaping shoes.

“You look so beautiful." he says.

“You too." I reply.

Then we link our arms and wait until they call us. I feel the heat radiating from Peeta. He doesn't usually get nervous, but today his forehead shines with sweat and he fixes his collar compulsively. So far I've counted five times in the last two minutes.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Oh, my brother lent me this shirt. It's itchy" He groans, awkwarly. I smile at him and he seems to relax.

There are several couples around us, waiting too. Everyone wants to get married in the spring.

Many young women in white. Some with lacy and chic dresses, others with old and yellowed, but all the same holding the hands of their lovers. The young men, one exhausted by work, one covered in coal dust, and another with elegant blue suits and shiny shoes.

We are all there, waiting to get to our turn.

When the door finally opens the old man calls out "Thompson" in a deep voice.

Then a couple enters, the girl with a veil and a garland and the boy with a leather hat. The two are shaking with so much excitement, they are completely in love. Still too young to free themselves from the burden of the Hunger Games. It's not good luck marry before you're 19. So I sigh, and wish them good luck on next summer.

After a few minutes, the couple leaves smiling and receives a round of applause from their family members who are waiting for them outside.

Then the man screams again "Greenwood".

An older, handsome boy, next to him is a blonde girl in a flashy dress. They are accompanied by their parents, elegant merchants. I start stomping my feet anxiously. I want to end the waiting once and for all. After a couple long minutes, they finally leave the building and when I least expect it the man is shouting for "Mellark". I head towards him as if he were calling my own name.

My witness is my mother, I wanted it to be Prim, but she is still a minor. Peeta's witness is his middle brother. He seems a little uncomfortable being there, but he pats Peeta on the back to encourage him.

“Mrs. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark, is it of their own free will that you both meet here today to be united in matrimony?” says the old man.

“Yes.” Peeta said vigorous.

“Yes.” I said in sequence, quieter revealing my nervousness.

Peeta takes my hand gently and squeezes it with his sweaty palm.

I thought I was calm until this moment, now I'm sure I'm terrified. While that old man talks boring things about marriage and laws and the importance of family I get lost in Peeta's flush face. His lips are tight and raised in a restrained smile. I feel my heart skip a beat.

When the man stops talking we each receive a pen. Peeta leans over the thick book first, writing “Peeta Mellark” in cursive. Then it's my turn, my hands shake and I sigh, before finally putting the ink on the paper.

I start with the "K" of my name, with a less sophisticated calligraphy than Peeta's. Now my tremor is visible to everyone around me. Peeta's eyes are the heaviest on me, they make me blush.

“How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?” I sigh. He giggles and looks away as I write "Mellark." My new last name.

[rainintheevening]

🍁🍁Comfy-vember🍁🍁

Day 5: Saying their name | Dressing fancy

Daisy Johnson (Skye) & Phil Coulson, Agents of SHIELD, AU

-------

Skye—Daisy—twisted and turned in front of the mirror, biting her lip as she considered the full skirt with its layers of tulle and silk, the little flowers with tiny green leaves worked in glimmering thread around the waist and square neckline, the fluttery short sleeves that showed off the muscles she'd spent the last few years acquiring.

The whole thing made her feel more like a Disney princess than a SHIELD agent, but she actually didn't mind. Not for a night, certainly.

The deep red dress was a Christmas present from Coulson, overwhelming in that it had been custom made for her, with real silk and everything. It had hidden pockets for her phone and anything else she might want. Even the embroidered flowers had pink daisies mixed with red roses.

Just as exciting was that Grant had no idea what she was wearing tonight, other than it being red. The thrill of imagining his reaction, made her suddenly shy, and she turned away from the mirror, pressed the cool backs of her fingers to her flushed cheeks.

A knock at the door of her small bedroom, and she stilled, alert as a rabbit till Coulson's query made her smile.

"Daisy?"

"Come in!" She tried to stand confident and relaxed, but her fingers still twitched, so she clasped her hands behind her back to hide it.

Coulson didn't look up until he was in the room, door mostly shut behind him. When he did, the slow drop of his jaw, the smile that made his face all soft, the murmured, "Wow," made tears spring to Daisy's eyes.

"It's even more beautiful than I thought it would be. You make it beautiful." Coulson passed her a handkerchief, and she tried not to smudge her makeup, suddenly glad she'd gone minimal today.

"Really?" she sniffled.

"Of course." His eyes seemed to be suspiciously shiny too. "My mother had a red dress, something like that. You're just as pretty as she was."

Daisy thought she might melt through the floor at such a compliment, the idea that she might be considered as much a part of Coulson's family as the woman who had been his own blood. She stepped into his arms then, hugged him tight.

"Thanks, AC," she whispered. "Thank you. For all of it."

The dress, the compliments, the hug, his trust in letting her date Grant... She owed him so much.

"My pleasure." He kept his arm around her shoulders as she pulled away, smoothed her skirts back into place, found a watery smile for him.

"You look great too," she said. He was wearing a much nicer suit than usual, black, white shirt, white gloves, and with a red bow tie, as seemed fitting for a chauffeur. "You're sure you don't mind driving us?"

"Are you kidding? You think I'd let some random limo driver take my two best agents anywhere? Someone's gotta be packing for the night. Besides, it's Grant's birthday. It's the least I can do."

Daisy grinned, his chatter lightening the air. "Are you gonna dance too?"

"I'll steal you for one number." Coulson stuck out his hand, smilingly serious. "Deal?"

"Deal." She shook his hand gravely.

"Five minutes?"

She watched him step back out, suddenly noting how much happier she felt, how much more confident. Just like how a dad should make his daughter feel before a big date night. "Should I put my coat on now, or wait till we get to the car?"

He smiled back over his shoulder, quick and amused. "Grant's in the common room. Maybe let him see you first."

"Okay." Again her cheeks warmed, thinking of her boyfriend, hoping his face would light up at seeing her as much as Coulson's had.

"See you at the elevator, Miss Daisy Johnson."

She rarely heard her full name, and sometimes she wasn't totally sure it belonged to her, but the way Coulson said it warmed her down to her toes.

"Thank you, Philip," she answered, giving him what was meant to be a graceful nod of dismissal. "That will be all."

She had to turn away hastily to hide her snort, as the door shut on Coulson's muttered, "Well, I guess chauffeurs usually get called by first names, don't they?"

Nerves now exchanged for elation, Skye hurried to grab the rest of her things, humming Taylor's 'The Best Day' under her breath.

Now I know why the all the trees change in the fall / I know you were on my side / Even when I was wrong / And I love you for giving me your eyes / Staying back and watching me shine...

[slashers-sister]

(we are posting a story finally WOOOOO)

(you being their little sister is your perspective, and I'm doing this to appease the demons, sorry I haven't been posting a L O T has been happening)

(G: Nubbins, P: Chop-Top, R: Drayton, and Blue is for bubs <3)

——————————————————————————

You and the twins.

It's been a fight. Constantly.

Back and forth.

You wanna strangle them,

They wanna strangle you.

You guys still love each other, it's just.. well to put it in simple terms, you'd bite them if they touched the door handle to your room, but if a victim hurt either of them, the victim's life will be very short lived.

Of course, today is a hot Texas day like normal.

And Nubbins, the dumbass he is, is about to turn this into a 2v1. Sadly Chop-Top isn't siding with his twin.

Y'all are probably working on the front of the house, it's spring, making it look presentable and unsuspecting to the normal passerby.

Nubbins is getting bored, but you guys are nowhere near done.

"W-Why c-ca-can't we just f-f-fuck-fuckin' be d-done..?!"

His twin clocked him on the back of the head.

"Cuz, drayton'll have our asses if we don't finish!"

You snickered. Nubbins has mood swings, but they are getting worse the more he doesn't get to kill. You have no reason to worry, you're part of the family.

And family. Doesn't. Kill each other.

He just angrily yells, like full blown-

"AAAAAAAAAAA-"

You and Chop-Top look over like '??????????'

And he's storming off to the side of the road all mad.

"Get your ass back 'ere!"

His response 👇

You're just standing there like ":0"

You've never seen Chop-Top run faster.

Ever.

Besides the time he was being chased by Drayton

And Nubbins is just running as fast as he can, funnily enough he was the fast twin.

Just not today, huh?

You watched him get tackled, and then get dragged back. "I-i ain't d-d-doin' t-this shit a-a-anymore!"

"Shut up before I hang you on a meat hook like last week."

Oh.

..OH.

Besides laughing, you remember that. It sure took the meat of their antics this week.. besides Nubbins flippin' his twin off.

Hours later, Drayton comes out to find Chop-Top and you relaxing.

Nubbins less so, sitting all grumpy.

"Ta' hell happened?"

You were about to say something, Nubbins didn't bother. Chop-Top interrupted you,

"Oh nuthin', just had to chase a rabbit down."

"I-i-if you weren't m-my t-t-..twin you'd be dead by n-now."

Drayton is confused.

You're laughing again.

And as you laugh, Nubbins and Chop-Top get into a fight. More psychical than usual, but it ends in Chop-Top carrying his twin over his shoulder.

Bubba was sleeping on the bone couch peacefully after a day of butchering victims.

Very confused what he's seeing as Chop-Top is going upstairs with his twin. Who's screaming and stuttering like an angry Chihuahua.

.. and you dying on the floor by the front door. Just laughing.

Drayton just shakes his head and goes to sit down.

"Jus' go get cleaned up when yer done laughin' like a god damn hyena.."

What a normal day in the Sawyer household.

[plantanarchy]

I am still thinking of the native plant discussion today and I know I've said this before but for my particular are (SWPA)... a lot of my locally native plants are not actually better suited to the landscape of your average home garden. A lot are deep woodland shade plants, swampy spring ephemerals, understory trees and shrubs...

and quite frankly, the majority of people in my immediate area live in newish housing developments that are just sod over bulldozed clay, no native top soil left, baking sun, young or no trees, sitting on top of a bald hill so it's windy as shit...

Plus, given the heavy deer population here and lack of predators, many of my favorite locally native plants are at risk of being a deer snack. The main question I get at work is "is this deer resistant?" and the answer for many PA natives is no.

So, yes, many of the native plants that I grow in my yard are not necessarily strictly SWPA native. My prairie garden is full of Midwest natives. My Catalpa is technically introduced in this part of its range. My redbud is a cultivar because I didn't want height. My shade garden can only have rabbit/deer resistant plants or they get chomped. My winterberries are also cultivars and the male is grafted aaaand they get eaten by deer.

And I live in a neighborhood that still has its original top soil and has actual trees but still have issues... anyway, point being.

There are certainly places where it's true that native plants are better-suited to the local environment (drought prone places for one) but some areas, we've changed the landscape immediately around our homes and businesses SO much that it no longer is a hospitable place for the native plants that once grew here.

The good thing is that there are still many maintained. wild areas beyond our home gardens that can be preserved and celebrated. But anyway, plant that peony or that russian sage or that cultivated redbud. It's ok.

[flyfish1999]

Persona 3's Weiss Schwarz Deck: For the Uninitiated

a few weeks ago, i fell into the weiss schwarz rabbit hole .. and figured that it was finally time today to share my findings ! as this is an informative post for people who are p3 fans above weiss schwarz fans ... here's the gist:

Weiss Schwarz (Weiß Schwarz, white-black in german) is a japanese TCG card game that is probably most well-known for releasing decks that tie into popular anime and game franchises, with participating titles such as Fate/stay night, Hatsune Miku Project Diva, Madoka Magica and - the most relevant to us - Modern Persona (3 - 5). The cards featured include mostly official art - such as sprites and reused promo art - but some of it's special, unique or rare cards have custom art made specifically for the deck!

The P3 deck specifically was released only in Japanese (unlike the P4 and P5 sets) but it had two unique releases: it's first 2008 release that came alongside a boxset, mat and a premade deck available for purchase, and then later rereleased in 2021 as a special backlog Chronicle set where every card was made into a shiny foil card (only 3000 of this set were ever made, so it goes for a lot now)! Fun Fact: this means that although the Chronicle boxset included every single card ever released (+ a bonus brand new one that sadly reuses FES art) it appeared to include some cards twice - because for some cards, the only difference between it and another was that it was a foil card :]c

The series name for the original release is P3/S0XX-0XX, and for the Chronicle release is P3/SC0XX-0XX !

Resources: Archived Product Page: circa June 2008, includes a list of every artist featured in the deck! Official Box Page: still-accessible version of Weiss Schwarz's original P3 release information Heart of the Cards: a full list of every card in the original P3 deck, with translations! Little Akiba: another full list of every card in the og deck, navigable by images! Weiss & Such: a youtube unboxing of the beautiful Chronicle boxset! Waifu Wars: a youtube review from 2016 of the original set from people who are far better at the game than i am ^_^ !

Below, is (what I believe is) a full list of every card with unique art in the deck, with titles attached! All images are high-quality sample images, but beware of a long post ahead! Enjoy ^_^)/ !!!

The Last Choice:

Unbreakable Bond:

Thank You:

Oath to a Friend:

Hot Springs:

End of Revenge:

Living Person:

Mechanical Maiden:

A Mutual Promise:

Father's Will:

The Strongest:

Aigis' Dream & Analyse:

Level Up & Phoenix Ranger Featherman R:

thanks for reading ^_^)/ !!!!!!!!!!!!

[timeforbedwolfstar]

Finding Home - Chapter 8

A/N: The dialogue in the Shrieking Shack scene is J.K. Rowling's. The descriptions are told from the POV of a dog, so if it doesn't follow canon, that's why. Enjoy today's chapter :)

Life with the wolves was unlike anything I’d ever known before. The wolves had a name for everything, most of which flew over my head, much as I tried to learn them. 

The wolves believed that death was simply a marking of time passing. “Energy flows through all living things,” said a male wolf, Loki. “All energy is only borrowed, and one day you have to give it back.” 

The wolves adopted us into their way of life, and helped us find food and shelter. In return, we helped raise the pups, guard the pack, and bring down prey. The winter that was doomed to be long and difficult was turned short and full of life. 

I grew very close to Loki, whose name and personality reminded me of the dog I’d loved as a brother, in a life that felt so long ago. He had a sense of familiarity about him that I had only associated with Remus before, and, later, with Sirius. 

In our time with the silver wolves, Sirius and I grew to love them. Their beliefs and way of life became ours, and we followed it for many long years after we left. 

Sirius and I lived with the wolves until the winter began to thaw. The snow slowly melted, bringing a new smell, one of spring flowers. Lilies, they were called. 

The two of us didn’t leave the wolves when the sun returned. One night, Sirius snuck away from the pack, while we were sleeping. Laying under Loki, I watched him leave, but didn’t pay too much attention to his disappearance. I knew he’d come back. 

Sirius returned shortly before dawn, tail high and wagging. 

“Harry’s alive,” he told me, curling up to sleep against my side. “But we can’t get to him. But soon. Soon, we will find him.” 

The full moon shone high in the night sky when Sirius saw the three. 

The air held a steady note of summer coming, and the warmth of the night was welcome on a body used to cold and hunger. Prey was returning to the area, and our bellies were rarely empty. 

Sirius was hunting, and we had split up to take down a rabbit or two. Their speed made it difficult for even our experienced paws to catch alone. 

The trio of humans, young ones, were walking down toward the Whomping Willow, a tree that Sirius had taught me not to approach. Sirius crept behind them as one boy dived onto the ground and caught a rat between his hands. He turned around and screamed. 

“Ron, run!” the other boy yelled. 

Sirius let out a fierce growl as Ron yelled, “Harry, Hermione, run!” 

But it was too late. Surius was dragging Ron down the tunnel under the Willow. I followed him, snarling at the rat Ron held in his hands. A resounding crack echoed in my ears before we started walking, 

After a long, long walk, we emerged in a house that was full of broken furniture. A long-remembered and yet long-forgotten smell lay thin on the ground, faded with time. Sixteen years, a voice in my head whispered. Sixteen years since last you stood here. 

Sirius had transformed, and stood in front of me, petting my head as he stared at Ron, who had sat down on the bed, as far from us as he could. Ron was whimpering in pain, and held his rat closely. The rat was squealing and squeaking, and I lifted my lips at the sound. 

Behind me, the two other kids had found us. The boy was standing in front of a girl with bushy brown hair, a panicked smell rolling off her. 

“Ron — are you okay?” Harry asked. 

“Where’s the dog?” 

“Not a dog,” Ron moaned. “Harry, it’s a trap —” 

“What —” 

“He’s the dog . . . he’s an Animagus . . .” 

Harry wheeled around. With a snap, Sirius slammed the door behind me. “Expelliarmus!” he croaked, his voice cracking with lack of use. 

Sirius caught their magic sticks, and the rat squealed on the bed. He stepped forward, toward the three kids. 

“I thought you’d come and help your friend,” he said hoarsely. “Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I’m grateful… It will make everything much easier. …” 

Harry stepped forward — the girl grabbed his arm, hissing, “No, Harry!” 

The redhead stood. “If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us too!” 

“Lie down,” said Sirius quietly, “or you will damage that leg even further.” 

“Did you hear me?” Ron said weakly, clinging to Harry. “You’ll have to kill all three of us!” 

I looked up at my oldest friend. Surely he wasn’t trying to kill Harry? 

“There’ll only be one murder here tonight,” said Sirius. 

“Why’s that?” Harry spat, trying to wrench himself free of his friends. “Didn’t care last time, did you? Didn’t mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew. … What’s the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?” 

“Harry!” the girl whimpered. “Be quiet!” 

“HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!” Harry roared, and I flattened myself to the ground. He broke free of their restraint and lunged forward. I copied him, peeling back my lips and letting out the fiercest snarl I’d ever made. 

Harry stumbled. My growl deepened. Behind me, I heard Sirius trying to calm me, but I ignored him. Do not touch my friend, I tried to say. Do not touch him. 

“You’ve got to listen to me,” Sirius said, with regret and urgency in his voice. “You’ll regret it if you don’t. … You don’t understand. …” 

“I understand a lot better than you think,” said Harry, his voice shaking. “You never heard her, did you? My mum… trying to stop Voldemort killing me… and you did that… you did it…” 

I barked, my tail wagging. Sirius is innocent, I tried to say. Sirius is innocent. 

Muffled footsteps came from downstairs. Someone was moving, and I could smell him. His scent made my tail wag so hard I smacked the jar and nearly toppled it over. 

“WE’RE UP HERE!” the girl screamed. “WE’RE UP HERE — SIRIUS BLACK — QUICK!” 

Sirius made a startled movement at her scream. I jumped as the door burst open in a shower of red sparks and chocolate and Remus. I yelped and jumped up onto him, wagging my tail. He looked disconcerted to see me. He pushed me off him, and his gaze went from Harry, to the girl, to Ron, to Sirius, and then back to me. 

“Expelliarmus!” he shouted. The three sticks left the kids’ hands, and Remus caught them. My tail was still wagging. Then Remus spoke. “Where is he, Sirius?” 

Harry looked around at his friends. I wagged. 

Sirius’ face was blank. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he pointed to the jar. 

“But then…” Remus muttered, staring at Sirius intently, like a wolf hunting its prey, “… why hadn’t he shown himself before now? Unless —” His eyes widened, and I wagged harder. “Unless he was the one … unless you switched … without telling me?” 

Very slowly, his eyes never leaving Remus’ face, Sirius nodded. 

“Professor,” Harry interrupted loudly, “what’s going on — ?” 

Remus lowered his wand, seized Sirius’ hand, pulled him to his feet, and embraced Sirius like a brother. I barked and jump-spinned, wagging hard. 

“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” the girl screamed. Remus and Sirius broke apart, Remus turning to look at her. She pointed her stick at him, wild-eyed. “You — you —” 

“Hermione —” 

“— you and him!” 

“Hermione, calm down —” 

“I didn’t tell anyone!” Hermione shrieked. “I’ve been covering up for you —” 

“Hermione, listen to me, please!” Remus shouted. “I can explain —” 

Harry was shaking. He smelled of fury. “I trusted you,” he shouted, “and all this time you’ve been his friend!” 

“You’re wrong,” said Remus. “I haven’t been Sirius’ friend, but I am now — Let me explain. …” 

“No!” Hermione screamed. “Harry, don’t trust him, he’s been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too — he’s a werewolf!” 

There was a ringing silence. My hackles were raised, my ears pricked. I’d forgotten that Remus was a werewolf, had stopped tracking the moon phases when I was reborn. But the wolves had set so much by the moon, I’d started to track them again. 

And tonight, the moon was full. 

“Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione,” Remus said. “Only one out of three, I’m afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle, and I certainly don’t want Harry dead. …” He shuddered, and I was reminded of nights in the cellar, shuddering against the wall. “But I won’t deny that I am a werewolf.” 

Ron made an effort to get up again, and Remus started forward to help him, but Ron snarled. “Get away from me, werewolf!” 

Remus stopped. Then, with obvious effort, he turned to Hermione. “How long have you known?” 

“Ages,” Hermione whispered. “Since I did Professor Snape’s essay. . . .” 

“He’ll be delighted,” said Remus coolly. “He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant. . . . Did you check the lunar chart and realize I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?” 

“Both,” Hermione said quietly. 

Remus forced a laugh. “You’re the cleverest witch of your age I’ve ever met, Hermione.” 

“I’m not,” Hermione whispered. “If I’d been a bit cleverer, I’d have told everyone what you are!” 

“But they already know,” said Remus. “At least, the staff do.” 

“Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?” Ron gasped. “Is he mad?” 

“Some of the staff thought so,” said Remus. “He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I’m trustworthy —” 

“AND HE WAS WRONG!” Harry yelled. “YOU’VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!” He was pointing at Sirius, and I moved to place myself between the two of them. An odd, strangled look reached Remus’ eyes. 

“I have not been helping Sirius,” he said. “If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll explain. Look —” 

He separated Harry’s, Ron’s, and Hermione’s sticks from his hand and threw them to their respective owners. Harry caught his, giving it an odd look. 

“There,” said Remus, putting his own stick in his belt. “You’re armed, we’re not. Now will you listen?” 

Harry was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “If you haven’t been helping him” — he glared furiously at Sirius — “how did you know he was here?” 

“The map,” said Remus. “The Marauder’s Map. I was in my office examining it —” 

“You know how to work it?” Harry said suspiciously. 

“Of course I know how to work it,” said Remus, waving his hand impatiently. “I helped write it. I’m Moony — that was my friends’ nickname for me at school.” 

“You wrote —” 

“The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn’t I?” 

He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. I could smell the transformation building under his skin. 

“You might have been wearing your father’s old Cloak, Harry —” 

“How d’you know about the Cloak?” 

“The number of times I saw James disappearing under it . . . ,” said Remus, waving an impatient hand. “The point is, even if you’re wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder’s Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid’s hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else.” 

“What?” said Harry. “No, we weren’t!” 

“I couldn’t believe my eyes,” said Remus, still pacing, and ignoring the interruption. “I thought the map might be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?” 

“No one was with us!” said Harry. 

“And then I saw two more dots, moving toward you, one labeled Sirius Black. . . . I saw him collide with you; I watched as Sirius’ dot dragged two of you into the Whomping Willow, while the other dot followed —” 

He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron. 

“Do you think I could have a look at the rat?” he asked evenly. 

“What?” said Ron. “What’s Scabbers got to do with it?” 

“Everything,” said Remus. “Could I show you, please?” 

Ron hesitated, then nodded, holding out the rat. Remus snatched the rat and held it in his open palm. The rat thrashed desperately. Remus stared intently at it. 

Its scent flew over my nose, and I peeled back my lips and snarled. 

“What’s my rat got to do with anything?” 

“That’s not a rat,” croaked Sirius Black suddenly, at the same time as Remus said, “That’s not a dog,” and pointed at me. 

“What d’you mean — of course he’s a rat —” 

“No, he’s not,” said Remus quietly. “He’s a wizard.” 

“An Animagus,” said Sirius, “by the name of Peter Pettigrew.” 

Hermione shook her head. “So, what d’you mean, ‘that’s not a dog’? Look at him.” She pointed to me. I wagged. “Of course he is.” 

Remus shook his head. “He’s not. Sirius, he’s not.” His eyes were sad, and dark. As I watched, a lone tear ran down his face. “Sirius, that’s Prongs.” 

[moistreicher]

Lies of P

Fanfic

P and the portrait

Setting: bathroom of the Hotel Krat

P is having identity crisis

P emerged his body from the waters he bathed himself into and stepped out of the bathtub then grabbed a towel to dry himself. The mission today was rather dirty, as the dirty and mud got through his thick layers of clothes, staining his flawless artificial skin.

After drying himself, he raised his head and his hair fluffed with droplets between the strands of his hair. One fell down onto his cheek bone trailed down his jaw and finally gave the last touch as it dripped down.

He caught his own reflection from the mirror next besides him. He wasn't interested looking at himself further however Gemini's voice whispered inside his system. The portrait of the boy they found back the black rabbit hideout. Gemini had joked about it looking like him to breaking it all down to how the kid look exactly like him. He remembers the what Gemini had the comparison between him and the portrait and the features the boy have.

The boy have a delicate yet unruly set of hair and have the same fluff as P's hair. The shape of the face kid shows baby fat and P's shape of face appears sharper and refined yet still remained the little bouncy curve of the cheeks. Their nose. Their nose were perfectly alined, how the kid have a natural nose and how P's nose is a great copy from the portrait. The curve of the lips to and finally the eyes.

The boy's eyes holds life. It might been only a painting but the painter managed to paint the life in it too. P's eyes reflects life. Like a glass captured life and then reflects it but it may never be the same as the child's eyes. P knows to himself he is not born but was made with metals and springs however, he felt a sudden drop inside his chest when Gepetto showed great emotion towards the portrait he brought back to the hotel.

He is father's son isn't he? So why would his father show such emotion towards a painting only? Can you refer to it as "only" when his father showed great reaction to it? To the child painted in the canvas?

He leaned even closer to the mirror. His metal hand touching the glass that reflects back his image or is it the image of the child in the painting? The more thoughts he puts into it, he grew more confused. His mind is flooding with thoughts and questions that even he couldn't comprehend what it's for.

Drip

A sound of water reawakened him from his deep thoughts. He got himself a new set of clothes and went out of the bathroom. His hair still has some few wet and damp spots that water still drips but he didn't mind. He didn't care. Or he is too occupied to care. He never know. His mind clouded yet so empty. The image of the child in the painting keeps appearing wether he closes his eyes or open them. He did his best to brush it off like other feelings he had felt. It's just another emotion he isn't prepared to feel so he ignores and ignores. Ignores.

It doesn't bother him but it is attached to his mind. During his mission, his mind is busy while his body is on autopilot. Killing corrupted puppets in the way while his mind is being haunted by the painting. Painting, painting, painting. It is all circling in his mind like a perpetual set of image that will appear and disappear. Puppets does not have the ability to get sick but for his case, he is rather getting sick of it.

Soon, he confronted his father about. Not about how Geppetto had acted but how his mind is ever full of the painting. He asked if the child mean something to him to which Geppetto had gravely answered. His reply was full of melancholic words that P could feel slightly jealous for someone who isn't there, who isn't doing his father a favor, could ever gain such affection. For a painting in the wall.

Fast forward, after defeating the so called villain who wishes to attain the godhood with the power of ergo. Souls of humans trapped inside, transfered to one person who wishes to bare them all. He was tired, although, the though of coming back to his father and being greeted with a smile and proud look on his face fuels P to go back where he came from. From his father. But his father speaks absurd things. Giving his heart to him to which finally connected it all. The message of the King of Puppets had finally drilled a hole in his skull and made to his brain that he finally accepts the possibility of schemes of his father, to which he had lied to himself that his Father wouldnt do such a thing to him.

After refusing, having to fight a nameless puppet to which he thinks where his heart will be given to. It pains him for his father to be so mad at him. Calling a bad boy and a useless puppet. It pains him for all. His heavy heart does not help during the fight but the rage that has set his heart in flames is the only things his fighting for. He is no longer fighting for his father but for himself. He had disobeyed his father. His only family and soon he is gone. But even in his death, his father resented him before closing his eyes. P forever felt the pain of loss.

When he had returned to the hotel Krat, he is sadden by the though of his father never truly had seen him as his son. He was never his father's son but a mere temporary replacement for his long awaited plan but now it is all gone along with his father.

He cannot look in the mirror for he bares the image of the child. He was created the same appearance as him only to be reminder for his father that his son will come back but instead he joined him. He was never truly anyone to the person he calls father.

((I didn't know this was in my draft for so long))