#yes it actually screams and yowls it's terrible

[1friendaday]

Screaming Halloween Cat

[muffindaddystyles]

OH NO BABY!!

Summary: It was Harry who swimmed in freezing ass water but someone else (his lovie) ends up catching a cold, caring boyfriendrry, a mighty bit momrry.

Turquoise chilly waves crashes against the dark coloured stones as Y/N watches her button sized boyfriend; summat all with rosy cheeks and nose, un-tattooed, wearing excessively short knickers (so tiny it shows the curves of his cute bum perfectly), being a cheeky giggly boy while shooting his swimming scenes. 

She wheezes a cold puff of breath winding her brown overcoat closer around to keep her warm but it fails to do so and she might get a scolding from Harry for being silly and waiting outside the whole time just to watch him but she doesn't care, she's extremely proud of him and comes by the sets of My Policemen once a time she gets day off her job early. 

He paddles towards her like a penguin buried into humongous coats and towels, his brows furrowing together trying to recognize her dainty self waving him quite enthusiastically from far and his face softens at that.

Shaking his head when her teeth clanks together from the gush of stinging cold breeze. 

"Lovie'," He wraps his nippy palms around her hands bringing them to his frosty lips to blow warm air, knowing she hates cold and gets real whiny from not being able to bear it yet she stood in it for two hours for him means alot to him because his assistant told him someone was waiting for him but didn't tell it was his actual sweet baby.

"How you're not a frozen chicken yet?" She asks sighing once in the heat of his given trailer and he makes an exhultant purring noise when she cups his face, lulling it left and right playfully, "Are you okay? She queries worriedly looking down at him with batted eyes and he muses a chuckle at her sweetness. 

"Baby 'm fine -- feeling hot by the way now you're inside the van." He grins bashfully tugging her closer with his knees pulled around her legs, "You better go back home .. I don't want your cutesy bum to freeze to death." She squeaks surprisingly when he smacks her ass playfully and drags her down by pulling the lapel of her coat to smear his lips against her's fondly -- heart bigger than it's normal size at her sight making his day 100x better. 

"I brought you lunch, it's on that shelf." She tells him standing at the stairs of trailer and he waves her blowing a heartious kiss her way, "Call me when y'reach, yeah?" 

"Kay, bye!" Her awfully pretty smile covets dimples into his cheeks and he just want to throw himself into the sofa piled with blanket and scream into it like a teenager girl.

Though, she keeps sneezing through whole ride -- eyes teary, nose runny and fingers twitchy not to mention her numb toes making her feel very uncomfy. Her eyes dropping from being too sleepy and lazy. 

She's about to catch a cold. 

Tiredly she drags her feet upto their flat and doesn't even pet their kitten strawberry on the way to their bedroom and when reaches it flops over blankets snuggling into them -- without even changing into comfy clothes. 

Sirens everywhere as she wakes up with a groan holding her forehead to subside the pound in it and it's feeling like blazing alarms are going off in her head making her want to puke. 

It's dark outside. She's been napping for hours. She manages to sit on the edge of bed deciding whether she should stand up to go to washroom or not for that all she could see is floating wooden floor. 

Weakly she trudges towards the kitchen filling a glass of water and pulls out a thermometer from one of the drawers -- she was too occupied in waiting for it to beep  then checking her fever that she didn't hear Harry announcing; he's home. 

She gasps quickly shoving it under her bum, "Don't you hide that thermometer from me!" He squalls rushing towards her in two big strides of his daddy long legs and her eyes widen comically. 

"I was just checking and I don't have any kind of fever!" She squeals not letting him get hold of the thermometer and he glares down at her sternly, "You're burning up, baby." He hisses, the back of his hand pressed to her forehead. 

She stands up and does a twirl for him shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, "See 'm fine —- " Only to pass out but Harry was quick to take her fall in his arms gracefully squinting his eyes down at her.

"Yeah . . . could see how fine you're." She gives in atlast. Knowing he's going in a severe mommy mode.

"Put your arms around me — Or just fall on me, yeah that works too." She nods and let him slip his socks clad feetsie under her soles to walk them to their bedroom, he sits her down and she wails when he opens their wardrobe to get her something comfy. 

"Nooo." She bunches up into a ball as he fists her vest top to pull it over her head, "it's freezing -- 'm feeling so cold." He frowns because he's sweating his ass off from the heat. 

He sweeps her hair away from her eyes rubbing a hand down her back continuously, "It'd be a sec, pet. Then I'll warm these blankets in the drier 'n make ye' some soup, so you'd be all cosy 'n snuggly … hmm?" She's very unconvincing when sick. Wants him and just him by her side. 

She wipes her nose with her sleeve and sniffs, raising her armpits in air for him and  shivers terribly when he undressed her completely, "Oh me poor baby." He leans in to kiss the corner of her lips but she pushes him away grumpy-ly. 

"You're g'na get sick too, dummy." He pouts childishly helping her to put her legs in her fuzzy pyjamas, plants tender kisses to her ankles once covering her feet in aloe-fused socksies.

When she stands up on wobbly legs with the support of his folded thigh he almost jumps asking worriedly. 

"Where are ye' goin', missy!??" 

"To washroom." Her voice barely audible her throat achy and scratchy, "'M comin' with you." He tells her demandingly and she groans knuckling at her eyes. 

"No."

"You wanna walk by yourself? Alright, let's see that." He leaves her wrist and she gasps tripping forward from weakness -- catching the nearest furniture before the damage. 

"Moppet, stop being so stubborn and lemme take care of you … look at you, an absolute horror –-- never been this frail." He's just so caring it makes her want to cry and have a full on water-works party. He pushes her from waist to himself pecking her sweet smelling hair and takes her to washroom. 

After that he tucks her beneath two fluffy blankets and leaves her to make some soup for her and bring her medicine, "Harry!" She yowls pinching the blankets closer around her round small head and feels bad when he rushes inside in a frenzy with an utterly concerned face, serving spoon in his hand and dish rag on his shoulder. 

"What happened baby? D'ya wanna throw up? Or are you feelin' freezy, should I blow up heat?" He asks in one breath and she blushes murmuring timidly, glossy eyes still very sleepy and exhausted. 

She sneezes loudly, "I just –- achoo!! –- " Another sneeze and she messes her words horribly, " –- you — " Drool on the corner of her mouth. 

"You achoo me?" He giggles softly fetching some tissues for her and wipes her nose with them as she struggles to clean it herself. 

"'M sorry, please come back." She sighs holding in an another sneeze to avoid wetting him with her yucky stuff. 

He strokes her head for a generous moment, "It's almost cooked –- oh fuck is it burning?" He sniffs the air then looks down at her with full on saucer eyes and slaps his forehead when she raises her shoulders, "Maybe?" Thankfully not all of it got ruined and his grin was obnoxious while bringing it inside. Trying to shoo away strawberry who's pawing at the frizzes of his socks. 

She smiles up at him with hooded eyes when he hovers the spoon infront of her waiting to feed her as if she's some sort of lil baby and when she tells him it's hot he blows at it and when she still tries to make excuses he stares at her strictly, "Baby." He warns her and she obliges quickly grabbing his wrist delicately to eat and his heart jumps consciously at the fact she's still burning awfully. 

"Did you even put salt in it? It tastes like nothing."

"Please stop wasting of what's left of ye voice on complaints about soup you can't even taste." He huffs and she giggles only to drive into fits of loud coughs. He rubs her back gently and puts the tray aside when she feels like throwing up from the effect of coughs and moves the bin where she's bended over the edge of bed and his legs. 

"It's okay, hmm just let it out." He caresses her back and holds her hair away from her face -- though nothing comes out since she hasn't eaten anything from morning. 

"I hate this." There comes the first sniffle and he instantly cradles her face in his soft hands, "I know dovie' you're feeling very icky right now but it'll be better in the morning, I promise." She shakes her head coughing into her elbow. 

"I don't want to eat anymore." Her voice groggy and hoarse, he lifts her gaze up towards him scolding her with a stern frown. 

"Hey, now none of that -- you're not allowed to sleep until your belly isn't full." She groans nodding at last and he kisses her shoulder as a little reward. She isn't very bratty. Infact she's Harry's polite girl. Though, When she's he makes sure to tug her back on line but at the moment he understands that how much she's suffering. 

How much she needs him to take care of her.

Taking care of her medicines and her cough syrup he turns on the lamp laying back into heap of pillows against the headboard and spreads his knees to bunch her petite weak body against his chest and closes them when she's properly snuggled on top of him, it's one of her favourite positions to sleep in when she's sick --- clinged and cuddled to him. 

Like babies on their mommy's chest with their bums sticked out.

He tightens his arms around her hiding his face into the crook of her neck and smooches tiny kisses to her sweet spot, "You're so cute baby makes me heart-ache." 

His tranquil heartbeat never fails to lull her to sleep and his hands loving on her sides always makes her feel very warm, "You shouldn't have come to beach -- moppet. Knows your immune against cold is terrible." He whispers cheek squished over her head and she murmures sleepyly —- hands bundled up between her and his front, "Just wanted to make you feel ….. loved." Her words jumblish but full of affection and drool sticks to his sweatshirt when she mumbles against his chest. 

//

Harry didn't sleep whole night making sure she's okay, making her sip her cough syrup in betweens and massaging her head but when his eyes barely dropped and the clock hit 4 in the morning whimpers and wails started slipping out of her lips as if she's in very much pain. Which infact she's. Her body shivers vigorously in his arms and even though she's sweating her fever didn't lower down a bit. 

He has never seen her in such a bad condition. 

He perches on his elbow immediately cupping her hot rosy cheek and gives it few pats crying out worriedly, "Hey baby -- wake up." When she doesn't listen his lungs felt suffocating themselves bile forming in his throat. He throws the blanket away sitting up fully and rests her head in the nook of his elbow.

"Y/N!?" He tries not to panic when she gives him no-response and before his anxiety driven self could duck down to press his ear to her heart her eyelids fluttered barely -- blue chapped lips moving slowly. 

"'M okay, bub. Don't worry ….. " 

"Bullocks. You're not okay! You can't stop shivering!! Looks almost dead." He growls angry at her and himself for not taking her to clinic soon, "You're so fucking stubborn, pet." He mutters rageously laying her gently down on the mattress and climbs down the bed to bring their coats. Almost stomping his way all around the bedroom to collect stuff. 

This time doesn't ask her if she could walk or not and glides his arms underneath her shoulders and knees to haul her firmly against his chest -- blanket still wrapped around her shivering body. 

"Shh, shh my baby. You're g'na be okay, 'm so sorry you're in so much pain." He tries to soothe her while walking down stairs of the building. 

Turns out she caught pneumonia. They had to stay two hours at the clinic for her drip and some injections for which he had to hold her down from wiggling and squirming her way out. 

Made her rest till the fever was gone temporarily then drives them back home when assured that her condition isn't worsening and right now when she's cuddled up into his side with strawberry sleeping on his thighs he nudges her lightly.

"Dovie' I love you so much but that doesn't mean you can scare the shit outta me like that." She just mewls sinking deeper into his side.

"No more set visits fo' you." He tells her seriously and she perks her head up coughing mildly and he raises his forefinger in a demand for her to stay quite, that there's nothing to argue, "You could watch me for once 'n all at the big screen." 

"Harry……" She whines tugging the hem of his sweatshirt.

"No, Harry." He pets her head down back on the pillow. 

Without saying anything she distance herself from him like a grumpy shrimp and fusses under her breath. He supresses his amused chuckles noting the silliness of this girl and drags her back by her ankle towards him.

"Come back here, you little betrayer." He gasps dramatically and squishes her in his embrace till she gives up and herself nuzzles up into his homely scented neck. 

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 13-15

Series Masterlist

Y’all know what’s coming up next, time for some *~buildup~*. So I’ve decided to forgo my usual bullet point system for the next two parts in the series so it’ll just be a full fic chapter style thing. Anyway, enjoy the prelude to the angst!

MC was comfortable.

They were sprawled out on the floor of Lucifer’s study, folding and crinkling old bits of paperwork that their father had damned to the shredder. Bean attempted to swat at the loose paper, only to flop onto his back. MC giggled and scratched behind his ears, the kitten batted at their hand in response.

Lucifer was doing paperwork, though he was getting quite distracted by the antics of his child and the cat.

Finishing up their paper snowflakes, MC unfolded them and hummed to themselves. The snowflakes turned out much better than that line of paper people that they had accidentally decapitated earlier.

“Tadaaaa!” MC chirped, holding up the paper snowflakes.

Lucifer looked at them, then chuckled and shook his head. “MC, I know it’s winter up in the human world, but it’s not down here. Why are you making snow themed decorations?”

“There’s no sun in the Devildom, it’s always a little cold out.” MC replied. “So it’s gotten me in a snowflake-y mood.”

Lucifer smiled slightly as he adjusted the paper orchids on his desk. MC had attributed their skill in paper crafts to their plethora of Mother and Father’s Day gifts they had given to their other parent over the years.

“What are you working on now?” He asked as he continued to absentmindedly work through the mountain of paperwork.

“I need to make something for Beel.” MC sighed. “I made him a pizza slice craft… but he ate it.”

“Perhaps this time you should make him a Fangol ball.”

“Yeah… that might be best.”

MC had offered to help out their father with anything involving the exchange program, any questions or improvements to be made, any issues that needed to be solved, and things that could be done to make future students more comfortable. Things were going well, but not every bit of work Lucifer was doing involved the exchange program, which left MC to play with the cat and the loose paper.

“Do you need help with anything, father?” MC asked, rolling onto their back and holding Bean above them.

“Not yet, MC.” Lucifer replied. “Most of your work here is done anyway.”

“Hmph, that sucks.” MC pouted. “I like helping you.”

They caught the ghost of a smile on Lucifer’s face after they said that.

“It’s nice that someone in this house does.”

They continued to play with the cat, Bean ended up getting his claws stuck in the carpet, MC had to help him out, Bean returned the favour by attacking MC’s poor defenseless hand.

“MC?”

“Yes?” MC looked up from their battle with Bean.

“What was your life like in the human world? I assume it wasn’t common knowledge that you’re half demon.”

MC giggled a bit. “Kind of boring, it’s much more exciting down here. Back in the human world I couldn’t exactly practice my magic without needing to explain to the insurance guy that the reason the windows are broken is because I wanted to move the remote closer to me without getting up.”

“Hm.” Lucifer smirked. “Laziness gets you nowhere.”

“I know. But at least now I can move things without breaking anything I don’t want broken.” MC smiled as they used their magic to move their father’s coffee mug a few inches to the left. Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

MC felt their hair get ruffled and their glasses moved slightly off their nose. “What about you, father? What was life like without me?”

“Well, it wasn’t boring.” Lucifer replied. “Just ever so slightly less chaotic.”

Bean lost interest in the game and rushed out of the room to yowl angrily at one of the vases in the library or hallway. According to Lucifer, those artifacts came with the house and were insanely cursed. Bean appeared to be offended that he wasn’t allowed to knock the objects off of the table.

MC took a quick breath and steeled themselves to ask a question they had asked a dozen times before. “What about the time before that? Like when you were in the Celestial Realm?”

Lucifer stiffened in his seat. “Why do you want to know about that?”

“No one really talks about it, and I want to know.” MC frowned, but did their best to shrug as casually as they could. “I also want to know about Lilith, no one ever talks about her.”

“Just wanting to know isn’t a terribly good reason for digging up the past.”

MC bristled at his dismissive tone, every time they had asked about that time he had avoided answering. They ground their teeth as they responded. “Well, this is my family too, I deserve to be a part of it.”

“What does knowing about the Celestial Realm have anything to do with being a part of the family?”

“Because I’m the only one who doesn’t have any memories of it!” MC finally snapped. “Even Satan has some of your memories and I have nothing! I’m being left out and it’s not fair!”

Lucifer looked up from his paperwork and glared at MC. “Watch your tone.”

They looked away and muttered something under their breath.

“Speak clearly, MC, I don’t have time for mumbling.” Lucifer said, his patience rapidly draining.

“I said you sure keep a lot of secrets!” MC growled, getting to their feet and crossing their arms. “You won’t tell me why the Grimoire is downstairs, you won’t tell me anything about the Celestial Realm or the Celestial War, you won’t tell me why I’m not allowed to go in the attic, you’re keeping so much from me!”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that you don’t need to know about any of those things?”

“I don’t need to but I have a right to!” MC felt every single one of their insecurities rise and bubble in their chest. “You don’t trust me, do you? That’s why you won’t tell me anything!”

“MC, calm down.” Lucifer growled.

“No!” They snarled. “You’ve been keeping me in the dark!”

Lucifer slammed his hands on his desk, cutting them off. MC almost flinched at the sudden noise, the silence that followed was deafening as they stiffened their posture and felt their hands curl into fists.

“Take a walk, MC. You’re being ridiculous.”

MC opened their mouth to speak, to yell, to scream about the unfairness of it all, then closed it. What good would it have done? They turned on their heel and stomped out of the study.

—————

Time heals all wounds, doesn’t it? Not this time considering Lucifer and MC were still upset at how their last chat ended.

Mammon, Asmo, Beel, Satan, Levi, and MC were lounging around in the living room. It was time for the monthly repainting of everyone’s nails, and MC was getting their turn.

“You have to take better care of your nails, MC.” Asmo tutted. “Clean them more often, file them, take those vitamins I recommended,”

When Asmo was lecturing someone, it was always very much a: ‘nod and make random affirming noises every once and a while’ situation. Mammon snickered at MC’s predicament.

“Don’t think you’re exempt!” Asmo held up the nail clippers at Mammon. “Your nails are filthy too!”

The two began to bicker, MC rolled their eyes and moved over, their nails were still half finished. Satan let out an explosive sigh and closed his book.

“Another day in paradise.”

“Paradise Lost, you mean?” MC teased, Satan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

The formerly average bickering of the second and fifth borns had slowly begun to escalate to their usual game of ‘who can make the other cry first’, a game which Asmo was defending champion of.

“Would both of you dummies CRAM IT?!” MC turned and snapped, the two ignored them and their shouting only grew in volume. “I don’t even know why I try.”

The two’s fight had shifted from words to throwing things, nail polish bottles, the nail filers, the clippers, pillows, mugs, the coasters, nothing was off limits. A wayward nail polish bottle hit Satan in the head and ended up spilling all over his pants.

“You two…” Satan growled. MC shifted away from Satan and got closer to Beel, Satan had been progressively getting more and more irritated as the day went on, and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!”

Satan leapt off the couch which resulted in Beel dropping his massive stack of pancakes onto the floor. MC suddenly felt significantly less safe.

“Beel, it’s okay, we can make more really quickly.” MC offered, gently patting him on the shoulder. Beel looked from MC, to his poor pancakes, then let out a mournful sigh.

“I’m hungry…” he mumbled, MC leaned their head against his arm.

“We could order in from Ristorante Six if you want!”

The entire time that conversation was taking place, Satan, Asmo, and Mammon were in the middle of killing each other. Levi rolled his eyes and shifted his position in the armchair, the sounds coming from his 3DS got louder as he tried to drown out the fighting.

“Tsk… stupid normies.”

Finally fed up, MC shot up from their seat. “WOULD YOU IDIOTS SHUT UP?!”

The creaking of the door to the living room opening caused everyone to freeze, Lucifer..? No… not him.

Belphegor pushed open the door.

As casual as could be, he grinned and gave everyone a wave. “My dearest brothers, oh how I’ve missed you…”

Everyone stood in complete and utter silence as Belphie casually strolled into the room, he surveyed the mess and let out a giggle.

“Geez, don’t fall over yourselves to welcome me home.”

“…Belphie?” Beel took a few tentative steps forward, then rushed forward and scooped his twin into a back breakingly tight hug.

“Hello to you too, Beel,” Belphie’s smile could have lit up the entire Devildom as he gave Beel a few light pats on the back with his one free arm. “You guys could learn a thing or two from him.”

“Y-you’re supposed to be up in the human world, what are you doing here?” Asmodeus finally piped up.

“Well, I wasn’t actually in the human world. I was locked in the attic.”

“What?!”

Everyone with the exception of MC expressed their shock with a variety of cursing and confused exclamations. MC looked down at their feet and clasped their hands behind their back.

“I’m out now,” Belphie gestured to himself. “Obviously. And we have MC to thank for that.”

MC was now the centre of attention, they felt their face burn with embarrassment. “I-I u-uhm…”

“Speak up, MC,” Everyone whipped their heads around to see Lucifer standing in the now open doorway, his posture was stiff but his expression was completely murderous. “What exactly is Belphegor talking about?”

Their heart hammered in their chest and their ears began to ring. Shit… shit… this wasn’t supposed to happen this way… MC’s ribs seemed to constrict and tighten with guilt as their heart continued to race.

“Oh fuck off,” Belphie scoffed. “You know full well what I’m talking about. You’re the one who locked me up there!”

“Lucifer…” Beel growled. “Is that true..?”

“Yes!” MC finally found their voice and met their father’s stare. “It is true! I found Belphie stuck in the attic over a month ago.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed dangerously as he shifted his gaze to Belphie. “And the attic is where he’ll stay.”

“Like hell!” Belphie spat. “I’m not going back up there.”

“Do you really think you’re in any place to defy me right now?”

“He’s not going back into the attic, Lucifer.” Beel practically snarled.

The air cackled with tension before MC spoke up again. “Father, can’t we just talk-”

“Stay out of this, MC.”

MC felt the tips of their ears redden as they clenched their fists and stepped up next to Beel and Belphie. “No.”

“MC-”

“No!” MC growled. “Why should I listen to you?! You haven’t told me why you took such bullshit measures to keep your own brother locked up in the attic and lied to everyone about it! What gives you the right to tell me what to do?!”

With one final glare shot over their shoulder, MC, Beel, and Belphie stormed out of the house, leaving the other five brothers behind.

Taking into account Beel’s much larger height and amount of strength, it was a miracle MC was even touching the floor while the trio sped down the street. Belphie was completely elated, taking extra time to walk ahead and point things out.

“Ahh,” Belphie sighed, resting his hands behind his head. “It feels so good to be free…”

“I’ll bet,” Beel smiled softly at his twin and ruffled his hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Beel, shush. None of this is your fault.” Belphie tutted.

MC kept their eyes trained on the ground, a ball of guilt beginning to form in their gut. Was this the right thing to do? Run away? What were they going to do..?

“MC?” Beel asked as he suddenly lifted them onto his shoulders, MC squeaked in surprise and scrambled to adjust their balance so they didn’t topple over. “You okay?”

“Ye… yes Beel.” MC took a breath before beginning to giggle. “I’m okay.”

“So uh…” Belphie looked around. “Where are we going to go? I don’t have any money on me.”

“Neither do I,” Beel mumbled. “And I left my DDD back at the house…”

MC thought for a moment, then brightened and pulled out their DDD. “Purgatory Hall! Luke owes me a favour, and there’s no way he’d turn us away.”

“Whose Luke?” Belphie asked.

“MC’s best friend.” Beel replied.

“He’s not my best friend!” MC sputtered, nearly dropping their DDD while in the middle of crafting the text to the angel. “He just owes me a favour after I saved him from those stupid lesser demons…”

“Oh, okay then.” MC felt Beel subtly shake his head to Belphie, who snickered.

Soon, the three were crammed into Luke’s room at Purgatory Hall. MC had been there and stayed over dozens of times before, but the near constant smell of baked goods that permeated throughout the entire dorm hall never failed to make them drool. It seemed that Beel was having an even worse time with the amazing smells, he was staring off into space with a long string of drool dangling out of his mouth.

Luke folded his arms and tapped his foot as he tried to unsuccessfully scowl at the three. The angel had just recently come to terms with MC’s parentage but clearly wasn’t ready to host two full demons in his temporary home.

Simeon on the other hand was quickly looking from Belphie, to Beel, then to MC as if trying to glean the details of the entire situation from their facial expressions and posture alone.

It wasn’t difficult to see that MC wasn’t doing terribly good. The realization had finally fully sunken in and they were anxiously fidgeting in their seat.

Belphie seemed the most calm out of the group, he was leaning back against the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world, if the ottoman were just a little bit closer it looked like he might have kicked his feet up.

“So,” Solomon said, absentmindedly twirling a string of bright purple magic between his fingers. “What’s the story here?”

“Family drama…” MC murmured, their eyes unconsciously flicking to look at Belphegor.

“Family drama that was both caused and solved, by you, MC.” Belphie chirped. “I haven’t thanked you for getting me out of the attic yet, have I?”

MC knitted their eyebrows in confusion. “I never got you out of the attic… I haven’t gone up there in over five days…”

“Then…” Belphie said slowly. “What opened the door?”

Now that was a question that couldn’t be answered by anyone in the room, which left the group in quite the awkward spot. In the end it didn’t end up mattering too much, Belphie was just happy to be out of the attic, and even though the trio were technically in hiding, he was just glad that this was all on his own terms.

Beel and Belphie took some time to catch up while Luke and MC played crazy eights. MC was beating him, but Luke didn’t plan on surrendering any time soon. The half demon continued to fidget and twitch throughout the game, their heart and mind racing despite the complete lack of nearby threats. Luke took notice and also began to fidget.

“I…um…” Luke mumbled and looked away. “Are you… are you and Lucifer okay?”

MC pursed their lips and gave him a half-shrug. Luke hadn’t exactly taken the news that Lucifer was MC’s father very well… for a while he refused to even look at MC properly, and when Lucifer found out about how upset that was making MC… Luke was lucky MC was just sad and not angry.

Even Luke with all his ‘demons are awful and evil’ talk, no one could deny that Lucifer cared about MC a whole lot.

“We’re um… I don’t know.” MC finally replied. “He’s mad at me… I’m mad at him… y’know…”

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded, awkwardly giving MC a quick pat on the head. “It’s okay, MC. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Giggling slightly, MC returned the head pat, their spirits rising slightly. “Gasp! A chihuahua petting someone? This is amazing, call the news stations!”

“Hey!”

After silencing Luke’s yapping and agreeing that he was in fact an angel and not a chihuahua, MC found themselves leaning on the doorway to one of Purgatory Hall’s balconies. Belphie stood with his back to MC, leaning on the railing and letting the wind gently ruffle his hair. He had a serene smile spread across his face as he took a deep breath in.

“Belphie?” MC asked, padding over to look over the railing next to the Avatar of Sloth. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just enjoying the fresh air. The attic got really musty after a bit.” Belphie replied, another gust of wind blew past, making MC shiver. “It’s nice…”

“Well, enjoy it all you want, because you’ll never be stuck up there again!” MC chirped, but their cheery demeanour faltered as thoughts of the rest of their family entered their mind.

Belphie opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. His eyes narrowed as he stared blankly ahead for a few moments. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as his now analytical gaze moved to MC. “You miss them.”

The comment wasn’t framed as a question, more a statement with the slightest tinge of disbelief. MC looked up at him and nodded. “Of course I miss the others. The reason I got you out of the attic was so we could all be together. I didn’t want the reunion to be like… like this…”

A smirk made its way onto Belphie’s face as he held out his arms. “Does someone need a hug? It sounds like you need a hug.”

The teasing tone almost immediately made MC roll their eyes, but they stopped themselves. They really did need a hug… they rushed forward and wrapped their arms around their uncle, the soft cardigan cushioning their face. Belphie slowly patted MC’s back, his hands slowly rising until one rested right between their shoulder blades, he then stiffened. MC felt him suddenly suck in a breath of air, but his arms remained wrapped around MC.

“Belphie..?” The half demon asked again, shifting their head to look up at him. He was staring straight ahead, almost like he didn’t want to even look at them.

“You…” Belphie whispered. “You care about them… don’t you..?”

MC felt the hand resting between their shoulder blades tense ever so slightly as it rose to the back of their neck.

“Of course I do, you guys are my family.”

Belphie stood completely frozen, MC slowly began to unwrap their arms from the hug, but Belphie remained rooted in place, and the hand on the back of their neck prevented them from fully leaving.

“And they…” Belphie gulped. “They really care about you…”

The two stood completely frozen in silence for God knows how long before Belphie let out a shuddering breath and practically collapsed into MC, the hand that was formerly against their neck was now cradling their head as he gave MC a hug so tight and suffocating that MC was worried their back might break.

“I’m sorry MC… damn it I’m so sorry…” Belphie whispered, pain and regret lacing every single word while MC could only knit their eyebrows in confusion and gently pat him on the back.

“I-it’s not your fault, Belphie, everything will be fine, okay?”

MC felt Belphie shake his head as he released them from the hug, his expression was a crude mixture of glassy and downright horrified.

“I don’t know about that, kiddo.” He rasped, he slowly reached a hand out and ruffled MC’s hair, before giving them a half-smile. “But thanks anyway.”

That odd interaction lingered in the back of MC’s mind as the day progressed. The complete radio-silence from the HOL had been the front runner in MC’s growing list of worries. Why hadn’t anyone tried to call them? Or go after them?

Luke being the sweet friend he was, invited MC to bake with him. The delicious smell of freshly made chocolate chip cookies didn’t exactly soothe MC’s anxieties, in fact, they only worsened when the sound of shouting made its way into the kitchen.

“What’s going on up there?” MC said as they stared up at the ceiling.

“Maybe it’s-”

The hairs on the back of MC’s neck stood straight up as a massive magical shockwave slammed into the two. This wasn’t any ordinary magic, it was ancient, and much more powerful than anything MC had ever felt before. For the first time in their life the little voice in the back of their head wasn’t screaming at them to fight and prove their superiority, it was begging them to surrender. To run and hide and pray to whatever would listen that whoever set off that magic wouldn’t find them.

Thousands of years worth of demonic instincts went ignored as MC rushed out of the kitchen to go see where and what the source of the magic was. Their blood ran cold when they reached the top of the staircase and saw exactly who was standing there.

He had clearly just shifted out of his demon form a second prior, the golden glow in his eyes had just begun to dull when his gaze landed on MC.

“L-lord Diavolo…” MC stood completely straight and still, they did their best to suppress the shudders that wracked their spine while they were in the presence of the Crown Prince of the Devildom. The very idea of addressing the demon that stood before them with any kind of disrespect or even camaraderie was completely absent from their head.

Diavolo’s gaze softened ever so slightly, but that provided no comfort to MC as every limb in their body seized up.

“MC,” He nodded in greeting. “I’m glad you’re well.”

Feeling slowly began to trickle back into MC’s arms, but they didn’t dare move from their spot. “What are… um… what happened?”

“Well,” Diavolo began. “Belphegor being out of the attic is the main reason I’m here.”

“Y-you knew about that?” MC sputtered.

“Yes, and after someone let Belphegor out of the attic I needed to make sure he didn’t do any damage.”

“Damage..?” MC mumbled. “What do you mean damage?”

Diavolo sighed and took a few steps closer to MC. “I take it you know Belphegor opposed the exchange program, right?”

MC nodded.

“Do you know why?”

MC hesitated, then shook their head. “No. No one told me.”

Diavolo looked away from MC, his forehead creased in thought before he eventually shook his head. “You’ve done a lot for your family, MC, you took on a burden no one asked you to take, and that’s very commendable. But it’s time you let the adults handle things, alright?”

“Alright?!” Any lingering traces of fear completely vanished as MC clenched their fists and stared down Diavolo. “This isn’t fair! Belphie hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“While free, Belphegor poses a threat to more than just the exchange program.” The shift in tone from calm to stern made any retort MC could possibly muster die in their throat. Diavolo smoothly moved past them as he began his descent down the staircase.

He turned to look at them once again, and his voice softened. “One day I hope you’ll understand my reasoning and be able to forgive me, MC.”

After Diavolo left, MC sprinted into Luke’s room where Belphie and Beel were supposed to be, only to find Beel floating midair. He was posed in a way like he was lunging for something, his eyes flashed when he saw MC and he suddenly dropped straight to the ground.

“Diavolo took Belphie.” He rumbled.

“Yeah, I figured.” MC muttered as they helped up Beel. “Listen, we need to do something and I have an idea.”

—————

MC bolted through the hallways of the Demon Lord’s Castle, the memories from the retreat serving them well as they made it to the corridor where the door to Barbatos’ room was.

Beel was doing his part, he gathered his brothers and he was in the main hall distracting Barbatos and Diavolo by pleading their brother’s case. Not that any of them knew it was a distraction. MC’s plan wasn’t their best work, but it was all they had.

They twisted the doorknob and the door opened, revealing the creepy room MC remembered. Hundreds of doors lined the seemingly never ending walls of the room. Staircases twisted and winded around, leading to yet even more hallways. How was MC supposed to find the door they were looking for in there..?

MC shut the door behind them as they walked closer into the room and began to inspect the first sets of doors. Many of them were similar in features, but some had more… distressing things added on.

One of the doors was being held shut by dozens of heavy glowing chains, there was no padlock in sight, but the chains themselves seemed to be at least somewhat alive as they wrapped themselves protectively around the door. From the sudden feeling of intense dread and terror that gripped MC, they decided it would be best to steer clear from doors like that.

The hallways warped and shifted around MC as they continued to search the room for their door. They needed a door to at least a few hours before Belphegor somehow escaped from the attic.

“Down here?”

“This one.”

“Oh no… what have I gotten myself into..?”

Unfamiliar and unseen voices echoed down the never ending hallway, closely followed by the sounds of multiple doors opening and shutting. There were others somewhere in the room…

MC’s listening was brought to an abrupt halt when they passed by a seemingly normal looking door, but something about it yanked at their mind. This was the one. They just knew it. This was it. They were going to fix this. Fix all of it.

They opened the door and stepped in.

—————

Lesson 16’s coming up next folks, beware and be afraid!

[mallowstep]

Just thinking about Feathertail during the quest in the Misty AU and if you actually did kill Stormheart off (I know you didn't but still) like...that's her brother, her littermate. And just--in the context of the Tribe/Sharptooth thing, Stormheart has been separated from her for a few days, the Tribe has not told her or any of the questing cats what's going on, and the next time she sees her brother is whe this huge lion looking cat enters the cave and the tribe cats push Stormheart to fight it. She loses sight of him in the chaos--sge hears Squirrelpaw scream, and Crowpaw gasps Stormheart's name, so she lift her head from the spot she'd hidden in, only to find her brother crumpled in a heap beside the Sharptooth's body. She races over to him, yowling his name.

"Feathertail," Twanypelt attempts, and Feathertail lashes out at her, claws unsheathed and striking Twanypelt's nose.

"He's my brother!"

stormheart's death would be -- terrible for her. i know i've mentioned this before but it was a while ago but...she loses her entire support system. yes, crowpaw has a decent understanding of how to help her, and brambleclaw and squirrelpaw both care for her, but feathertail doesn't know how to feel safe without Trusted Cats near her.

i don't know what she'd do. keep going, probably, and get stupidly hurt in the process. she's terrible at speaking up for her own needs, especially around tawnypelt, and without stormheart there to keep an eye on her...it's not hard for little things to stack up.

she gets back to riverclan and she -- is pretty terrible. her physical condition is bad (it's not that she has any bad injuries, just that -- she's pushed herself far too far for far too long), and mentally she's -- back to square one, almost.

maybe a new square zero, really.

(Mothwing begins to see a new side of Mistyfoot.

She's always been kind to Feathertail, but there is a special kind of patience to it, now. She stays by Feathertail's side, urging her to eat in small morsels, grooming Feathertail regularly, nudging her to see Mudfur and Mothwing.

They don't have a proper medicine den, just what herbs they have hidden in cracks, carefully monitored lest a wayward kit try to steal them, but Mistyfoot insists on meeting them. Mudfur agrees, says it's good for Feathertail to walk a little.

She doesn't go much of anywhere without encouragement. At first, Mothwing thought it was exhaustion and grief, and now, she thinks it still might be grief, but she knows it's deeper than that.

"I don't want to take anything," Feathertail says. "It doesn't help."

"It does," Mistyfoot soothes, purring. "It helped yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and it will help today.")

hm. that was. that i -- i am very happy with that scene and it's a shame it's not misty au canon, nor can it work as misty au canon.

[thetriggeredhappy]

Idk if ur taking requests... But.... A continuation of the cute pyro gets a cat fic... But also there is engiespy... Gee pyro who let you have two dad's and two cats... Just a thought👀👀👀 also I've said this before but very cool fics I read them every night before bed, gay little 4k word tf2 bedtime stories:)

this one is closer to 1.5k but i hope it scratches ya brain itch. here’s that other fic for folks who haven't read it, go nuts

(warnings for spy threatening the cats and mention of one cat catching mice)

-

The sound of one shiny black Oxford shoe tapping irritably against the lineoleum of the floor was what eventually drew Pyro to glance up from where they were patching a tear near the cuff of their flame suit. They looked up and processed first the chubby orange cat being held out towards them, then the torn-half-to-hell sock in that cat’s mouth, then Spy’s deadpan expression.

“Your animal has once again decided to pilfer from my living space,” Spy informed them, lip curled in a sneer.

Pyro hummed an apology, moving to take the cat in question with much more gentle hands, tugging the remains of the sock from his mouth and moving to pet at his head. Lucky almost instantly moved to roll over onto his back and bat at Pyro’s gloves happily. Pyro laughed and passed the sock to Spy, who more snatched it away than took it.

“Thank you,” he said, voice venomous.

“You know,” Pyro signed between the cat attacking their glove. “He only gets like this because he wants to play.”

“Not my problem,” Spy all but snapped, turning and leaving the room at a brisk pace. “Control your animal.”

Pyro sighed, looking back down and scratching at the cat’s cheek.

-

“Engineer!” Spy all but screamed later that day, storming up the hallway towards the man in question’s workshop, loud enough that the Engineer actually heard him over the sound of his drill and powered it down, glancing up in time to see him stomping through the door.

“Howdy,” he said cheerfully, biting back on the immediate amusement he got from how perturbed Spy seemed in that moment.

“Would you care to tell me why I found this in front of my door?” Spy hissed, holding up a handkerchief. Engineer craned his neck to look at what was in it, and his eyebrows rose for a moment before his smile ticked up at the corners.

“Looks like lil’ Sissy left you a present,” he chuckled, glancing back down at his work again. “Means she likes you. And besides that, that she’d doin’ her job catching mice.”

Spy absolutely fumed. “I don’t believe dead rodents constitute as gifts, Tinkerer,” he managed through gritted teeth, dropping the handkerchief on the desk.

“Fair enough. Makes sense you’d feel threatened, being a rat yourself,” Engie hummed.

A pause as Spy took a moment to be deeply indignant, scoffing in disbelief. “I won’t stand for this—this disrespect!” he finally managed.

“Then sit down,” he said with a shrug, nudging the stool next to him with his boot.

“I’m going to kill that cat,” Spy finally said, voice firm, and left the room.

“No you ain’t, and we both know it,” the Engineer drawled after him.

-

The sound of quiet cursing in French, approaching the Resupply room. Several sets of eyes turned in the direction of it, and finally Spy came into view, picking at his suit angrily, the absolute picture of annoyance.

“Yo, what’s got your panties in a bunch?” Scout snickered.

“Forget your lint roller at home?” Demo chimed in, also grinning.

“Yes,” Spy said, glaring at the two of them. “And unfortunately, a stupid, terrible animal has decided to ruin my suit.”

“Oi, be nice, Scout can hear you,” Demo joked, and laughed as Scout slugged him on the arm.

“Well, yes, he is indeed terrible, but I meant a certain someone’s horrible beast of a cat,” he said, glare turning towards Pyro. “I’m not sure when, but at some point today, the boy one decided to lay on my suit.”

“That does sound like Lucky,” Pyro signed casually, returning to refilling the canister on their flamethrower. “It’s not so bad, though. It’s just a little cat hair.”

“Oh, ‘just a little cat hair’, isn’t that rich,” Spy deadpanned, continuing to pick at his suit. “Of course. Évidemment. It’s not as if this suit couldn’t pay for me to destroy, clone, and then destroy that cat again.”

Pyro just laughed as though he was joking, which was actually the most infuriating thing they could’ve done. Spy continued to swear and threaten the cat under his breath until well into battle that day.

-

The Spy jolted awake at the sound of a loud, plaintive meow.

He sighed hard, rolling his eyes and turning over to try to get back to sleep again. A second and third meow followed the first, though, and finally after a minute or so of the yowling, he shoved off his blankets and stood, muttering angrily under his breath.

He swung the door of his room open. “Quoi?” he spat down at the little orange cat sitting patiently just outside.

She meowed softly and darted past him into the room.

“Non. Sûrement pas. Non.” he said firmly, strolling after the cat, who darted beneath his bed. “Get out from under there. We aren’t doing this.”

The sound of paws scuffling against the ground, then a long silence.

“Fine, have it your way,” Spy muttered, shutting the door and moving back to bed. “Enjoy being trapped in here until morning.”

In the morning in question, he woke up to the sound of purring, and the feeling of kneading against his arm. He looked over and saw Sissy looking at him with narrowed eyes, paws pressing against his bicep beneath the blanket, and finally she curled up there, still purring like an outboard motor.

“Non,” he said again, sitting up and dislodging her as he left the bed. She simply stood and moved into the recently-vacated warm spot, still rumbling quietly. “You think you’re clever, do you?”

She blinked up at him slowly, tail swaying slightly.

“Don’t insult me. This isn’t going to work. I am a cold, bitter, heartless man, and I am impervious to these weak attempts at winning me over,” he said firmly.

She yawned, stretching briefly. Spy scoffed, turning away and starting to get dressed.

Twenty minutes later, a knock at his door. It was the Engineer, helmet in his hands, looking worried.

“Uh, now Spy, I know this might be a strange request,” he opened with, making Spy raise his eyebrows. “But Firebug is a little concerned, hasn’t seen Sissy since last night, and we were wonderin’ if you’d help us look for her, I know it’s early and all—“

Spy turned away, bending and scooping up the cat where she was moving up just behind him, presenting her to the Engineer wordlessly.

He blinked, carefully taking the cat. “Oh. Thank you.” A pause. “Was she here all night?”

“Oui.”

The start of a smile. “Finally warmin’ up to her?”

Soy scoffed, walking out of the room and kissing the Engineer on the temple in passing before continuing off down the hallway. “Not a chance,” he said easily.

-

Spy sighed heavily as Lucky jumped up into his lap as he sat in an armchair in the common room looking through the paper, pooling there happily and purring like he wasn’t in very real danger. “Terrible. You are a terrible creature. I hate you,” Spy deadpanned down at him, but Lucky just shifted to bat at his tie happily. “You’re awful. One of these days I’m going to put you in a box and leave you by the side of the road for the coyotes. Do not test me.”

Lucky shut his eyes, still purring like he had nowhere to be.

“I need you to understand that, asleep or not, I will be standing and leaving this chair eventually, and I will be doing so as though you are not presently on my lap. The only potential issue with this plan is how very fat you are. Otherwise, I have no qualms with this.”

Lucky continued to purr, blinking up at him briefly as Spy shifted the newspaper and continued reading.

Pyro stopped dead in their tracks as they passed through, starting to giggle as they looked at the scene. “New friend?” they signed when Spy noticed them there.

“Potential new hat,” he said darkly, and Pyro laughed, moving into the kitchen. “I don’t know why you laugh when I say these things! I’m not joking!”

“Sure you aren’t,” they poked their head out to sign, and returned to the kitchen.

Spy mumbled more curses, even as he briefly dropped a hand to pat Lucky on the head begrudgingly.

[adelindschade]

In the past couple days, its been really nice to have both places of work be considerate enough to give me the time off. 

I just put my cat down yesterday after she declined severely. The days before that were terrible. I was short tempered and agitated she couldn’t shut up or use the litter box. I did everything from putting a baby gate in the walk in closet or bathing her to get rid of the smell after deep cleaning my carpets. I was so frustrated and annoyed. 

And then the last bath ruined her leg because she slipped. And it didn’t pop back in right. She was 16 and fragile. Already a year into barbiturates because of 3 known seizures. She had to be shaved because she couldn’t clean herself. There was matting everywhere. 

I made it right the last day when I realized she was showing signs of decay. She likely had dementia - ghosting over the waterfowl and yowling despite it being fresh / full - and unable to walk across the apartment to get to the litter box. She was lethargic and quiet. I spent the entire afternoon consoling her with pets and affection. 

Even on the way to the vet, she never made a peep. She settled right next to me and dropped her head in my hand. She didn’t even have the energy to lick me. She must’ve been so weak because she passed within no more than like 10 seconds after the injection. 

I was with her to the very end. I refused to leave for work and risk having her die alone or suffering. That was the best $200 I spent to ensure she passed away peacefully and painlessly. I’m bringing her cremated remains back today or tomorrow. 

It still sucked. For all those times I wished she had given me a reason to euthanize her because of all the messes and lost sleep she caused, to actually do it was heart wrenching. 16 years she spent, the last 10 with us after adoption, and the last 4 with me after my mother move. 

I wasn’t the most patient with her but I didn’t quit on her. I paid for extensive vet bills and expensive meds. I got a carpet cleaner to remedy the messes she made. I made her comfortable with new beds in places she could reach. I bought her expensive food in accordance to her limited diet. Yes, I yelled and picked her up by the scruff because she had a habit of peeing on me when she knew she did something naughty, but I loved her and she always forgave me. I wasn’t mad at her forever. I made it up to her after I calmed down. 

It wasn’t like she’d ever return to her prime years. She was aging and limited mobility. She was already declining but the last 3 days was just excessive. It was hours between accidents instead of days. She refused to eat or drink. Then her leg popped and she didn’t want to move anymore. She shivered and trembled and I knew she was in pain. There was only so much I could do, so I had to make that call, and mom was kind enough to drive us last minute to the 24-hr vet on a Sunday. 

I forgot how hard grief hit me because it never gets easier. I was throwing up after holding back the sobs, screaming into her blanket, passing out from crying too hard, and waking up to unsettling silence. 

And the fact both places of work were understanding and let me stay home to deal with it privately is a small but sweet gesture. I definitely needed it. 

RIP Lyra 2003-2021. You were a stinky, little shit but the sweetest cat. I glad you trusted me all those years, even when I was short with you, and I hope you feel so much better now. 

[warriorslocke-red]

Elkfeather:  “...Oh we just...ran into each other going the same direction in a nowhere field.”

Elkfeather: “I must have gotten lost in a strange part of the moor. It was such an ugly place, the air was stagnant and sour. I couldn't even scent the heather on the breeze. It felt like there should be wind but there wasn’t, it was just as far as I could see...a lot of nothing.”

Some time ago...

A none-specific amount of time, but probably not too long... Probably. Oh, you get the gist of it by now

In any case, yes, a lot of nothing was a good way to describe it. The sky was dark, without the colors of dusk. The field swept wide in every direction, the grass felt brittle and dead. There were no mountains peaking above the horizon; it was on a flat empty plain. It was unfamiliar, and unusually devoid of features, even more than she was used to. But no matter. A dignified queen always kept her head on even in the most stressful of situations.

…Nearly every situation anyway. But this one was different.  A WindClan cat should feel at home on the moor! There is no danger on their territory they can’t outwit or outrun. It is their greatest pride after all, they do not cower or creep beneath brambles or thickly woven trees. The endless exposed sky faces them and they embrace the feeling of open land and unhindered wind.

So why is it that on this moor she felt so...afraid? Without the sight of the horizon, the world felt so empty. The sky was blank, there was no sight of the sun and no sight of the stars that usually brought her comfort. There was nothing looking down on her. But...it was a moor all the same, right? She should have felt secure here. And yet nothing could have been further from the truth. She felt exposed. Watched. But there was no one around. She scented the air. Nothing. Not a scent. Not a rustle. And yet…. And yet she was not safe. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, every instinct drilled into her mind screamed in her head in unison that she was in terrible danger, that something here meant her harm, and no matter how fast she ran she would not escape it. Eventually she tried running anyway, aimless, uncontrolled, desperate to find something, anything in this empty moor. She thought for a moment that this must be what it felt like to be a rabbit stalked by an unseen hunter.

The indignity of her frantic panic pained her but she was helpless to stop it. She ran as fast as her paws had ever carried her before, but everything continued to look the same. She had the feeling if she ran until she dropped dead she would find no familiar landmarks, and never outrun whatever she felt was watching her. But she continued nonetheless. Until eventually, something else stopped her as the earth vanished below her paws. 

If the situation could get worse, it somehow had. She was completely stuck. The soil felt like it was trying to eat her and thorny roots clawed into her skin. It was suffocating and all the while there was that persistent pesky feeling that something was right on her heels, getting closer and bound to pounce at any moment. She thrashed and struggled and felt a sharp painful jab in her spine. Then there were real claws on her back and she yowled so loud it hurt her throat. 

There was suddenly a scraggly row of trees towering above her that somehow (perhaps in her confusion?) she hadn’t noticed herself coming towards, nor had she noticed the loose soil of abandoned rabbit burrows that she’d apparently caught herself in. Regardless, she tumbled backwards out of the hole and cam up swinging wildly at the claws that had pierced her.

Elkfeather:  “Back! Get back, I’ll shred you! Just because I'm a queen doesn’t mean I've forgotten how to defend myself! ”

Plumtooth:  “Agh! Sorry, geez! I thought you were a rabbit kicking around in the dirt like that. Excuse me, next time I’ll just let you flail around in a collapsed burrow!”

Elkfeather:  “I didn’t need your--! Wait...who are you?”

Plumtooth:  “Who am I? Who are you? I was just patrolling the border and I come across you, in a place you’re not supposed to be! So you’d better get off ThunderClan land before the rest of my patrol catches up to me.”

Elkfeather:  “Excuse me? Does this look like ThunderClan’s forest to you?”

Plumtooth:  “Well it’s um...T-there’s no WindClan scent markers, so yes, it is still our land. But I’m...actually not supposed to fight with queens, I think? Are you supposed to be escorted home or something?”

Elkfeather:  “I don’t need a cat clearly hardly out of apprenticeship escorting me anywhere. Why don’t I just wait for your patrol, then?”

Plumtooth:  “What--? Oh right, yes my patrol! They’ll be here er... soon. Any moment now.”

Elkfeather:  “I knew you were bluffing. I should have guessed. I don’t need ThunderClan assistance, and I don’t have time for you, so good day!”

Plumtooth:  “F-fine! Works for me! I hope you have a bad day!”

It’s fascinating how even in the most obviously dire of circumstances, clan cats from rival clans have a remarkable ability to keep being as unreasonable and standoffish as possible, even when there’s absolutely nothing to be gained from behaving in such a way. Something really needs to be pressing a claw to their throats in order for anything to get done. Fortunately, (or perhaps unfortunately), there was currently about a dozen claws pressing hard against every side. 

Something about this place made one feel so alone, and small, and terribly vulnerable. So, without a better alternative in sight...

Elkfeather:  “Actually, I have decided for your own sake, some cat should make sure you don’t get into trouble since you’ve clearly lost your patrol.”

Plumtooth:  “Well I just decided-- for your sake-- that you being a queen and all, some cat should act as your guard until you find your way back to your own territory.”

Elkfeather:  “For StarClan’s sake, I told you I still know how to fight for myse-- Oh forget it. We are in agreement then, and after this we will never have to see one another ever again!”

Plumtooth:  “Agreed!”

[galaxywhump]

29 Day Whump Challenge - Day 21

[Masterlist]

[Challenge]

Prompt: Whipped

So uh. As much as I hate saying things like this about a story, because I consider it a self-fulfilling prophecy, this one just. kinda sucks :v But hey, at least it’s another day of the challenge done.

cw: whipping, filmed whump, forced partial nudity (not sure if it counts but. just in case.), creepy/intimate whumper, threats of noncon, humiliation, modern slavery, blood, restraints, strangulation.

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between

EDIT: I ended up pasting the text from docs instead of word, so all formatting was gone (and I can’t live without my italics). Now it’s fixed, but gosh, this part really didn’t want to cooperate.

~~~

“Hey, you forgot the fu-”

He’s pinned to the wall by the throat, too shocked to even shout or fight back as the hand holding him starts to tighten.

“No!”, he chokes out, clawing at it uselessly, and the grip settles right before he starts to actually suffocate, just enough to make breathing a struggle. Cold metal closes on his right wrist and it’s pulled sharply, connected to the left and his struggles grow more frantic.

So it really is happening, the nightmare scenario becoming reality, started with the simple difference that he wasn’t given a shirt, and his usual sweatpants were replaced with loose shorts, and it took ten minutes of crying in the bathroom before he felt ready to get out of there and try to act tough.

And now it’s happening, and he’s pinned to the wall and cuffed, and he’s never been more exposed in front of Daniel and it’s really happening.

“No”, he whimpers and the pressure on his throat is suddenly released, leaving him heaving desperately. There’s a tug on the handcuffs and he stumbles forward, and Daniel is silent, so terribly silent.

Not this. Anything but this.

He expects to be dragged straight to the bedroom, but when they step into the living room, his heart threatens to crush his ribs.

There’s a goddamn filming setup here with two tripods with cameras on them, and three lamps lighting a small area - the set proper - with the familiar chain and pulley system, and some blue tarp spread on the floor.

“Wait…” He’s pushed onto the tarp before he can finish, not that there’s any coherent thought in his panicked mind; Daniel forces him to kneel in the center, still wordlessly, and attaches the chain. “No, wait-”

The chain is pulled, just a little bit, so that his arms are raised above his head, but he’s still kneeling, facing one of the cameras, with the other one pointed at an angle at his back..

The creep is going to film this.

The creep crouches in front of him and flashes him a dark smile before cupping Wren’s face in his hands, chuckling at the way he shrinks away from the touch.

“Please”, Wren says on the verge of tears. “Please, please don’t do this.”

“Do what?”, Daniel mutters, raising one brow, and eyes his half-naked captive up. “Ah. I see. No, it’s not what you’re thinking, kid.”

The relief Wren feels is almost painful, the claws of terror jabbed into his skin now torn out forcefully, and he’s close to forgetting about this situation, about being chained up on a film set.

“So why…”

“Berkeley wants an update, and I want to hear you scream.” Daniel lets go of him and gets up to adjust the camera angle before disappearing somewhere behind him; Wren strains his neck to see what’s going on, panic setting right back in. “You seem to be getting quite comfortable here, and I like it, but at the same time I want you to know your place.”

“I know my place”, Wren rushes to reply. “I do.”

“Great! So you know that you need to follow orders, for example. Here’s some: just look straight into the camera, look pretty and do whatever I tell you to. Got it?”

“But what are you-” His question is cut short as Daniel appears back in his field of vision, holding a black whip. “Oooh no. No.”

“No? You don’t like it?”, Daniel laughs, swinging it nonchalantly from side to side. “I do. It’s timeless.”

“But I-”

There’s a crack and Wren yelps, but the whip only hits the tarp, way too close for his liking.

“I definitely like it a lot.” Daniel points the whip at Wren’s face and grins at his expression of pure terror. “It was my favorite tool when dealing with new cargo I was asked to break, actually. And now I can finally use it on you.”

“But-” He flinches when the whip is cracked again.

“Ah-ah. No talking unless I tell you to.”

“You’ll have to fucking muzzle me then”, Wren spits and the next second Daniel closes the distance between and backhands him in the face hard enough for his head to snap to the side; it’s quickly forced straight with a rough grip on his chin.

“Remember what I said, sweetheart? I want to hear you scream. And talk, but only when I specifically tell you to.”

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart!” Another slap, this time drawing a choked yelp from Wren, and Daniel cups his face in his hands once again, gently stroking his jaw with his thumbs.

“Sweetheart? Yes”, he whispers, a slight smile forming on his lips. “Fucking? Not yet, anyway.”

Wren jerks his head back violently, his eyes widening, the facade of fury gone from his face in an instant; all he can hear is the beating of his own heart, and it’s beating fast, too fast; when Daniel lets go of his face and gets up, he thinks he might just pass out right here and now, black spots starting to appear before his eyes.

A cracking sound followed by his bare back flaring up in pain is enough to sober him up, and he cries out in shock, instinctively hunching his back, lowering his chest as much as the chain allows him to.

“Eyes on the camera.”

Crack.

It’s all too sudden, and he cries out once more, and it’s all wrong, he couldn’t prepare, he’s being filmed.

Crack.

“I said: eyes on the camera.”

He fights to lift his head and fix his eyes on the eye of the camera; tears are already trickling down his face.

He didn’t want to give Daniel and Berkeley the satisfaction of seeing him cry and hearing him scream, but he has already failed. Daniel’s comment, that one threat that he had been dreading above anything else, was enough to make him so much more vulnerable.

Another hit, another thin line of pure fire crossing his back, another scream.

“That’s better. And don’t worry, I won’t mess up the brand.”

Crack.

He sees his reflection in the camera, his grimace of pain, his teary eyes.

“If we weren’t both dead men I’d love to send this recording to someone”, Daniel’s voice is completely calm, monotone. “Maybe your squad. Wonder what they’d say if they saw you like this.”

Crack.

“No”, Wren chokes out, a sob forming in his throat, and he lets it out, his back on fire.

“I doubt they’d say ‘no’”, Daniel laughs. “I think they’d call you pathetic. Weak. You’re not their leader anymore. You’re just a wretched piece of shit.”

A failure, an inner voice suggests, helpful as ever, and Wren sobs again; his head drops involuntarily and he forces himself to lift it up again. He’s not fast enough and the whip falls on his back once more, a punishment.

“At least you’re learning.”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Screaming, screaming, screaming.

“It’s been a while since I saw you covered in blood. It suits you.”

Crack.

“Okay, now you’re going to answer a few questions, got it?”

He’s panting, staring into the camera, focusing on his reflection, his vision more and more blurred with each passing second. His next scream is almost animalistic as the whip falls on his back again with what feels like the most force yet.

“Got it?”

“Got it!”, he yells.

“Your name and title?”

He has to take a couple of deep breaths and for a moment he forgets, because all he is right now is in pain.

“Lieute-”

Crack.

“Full title.”

“Fucking-”, he pants and there’s another hit which causes his back to arch, the welts exploding with a whole new kind of agony. “First lieutenant Wren Rackham!”, he screams and wonders how it’s even possible for him to still have some tears left.

“What are you?”

“What-”

Crack.

“What are you right now? Why are you here?”

His mind is racing.

“I’ve been kidna-” Crack. “I’m a slave! I’m a fucking slave!”

Crack.

He’s going to kill me. I’m going to die.

“Language, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Last question: who do you belong to? Say it loud and clear.”

“Daniel Rooney.” His voice breaks and he sees in the eye of the camera that his lip is quivering.

They’d say I’m pathetic.

Crack.

“Full sentences”

He’s sobbing, he’s falling, his entire body is on fire.

“I belong to Daniel Rooney”, he mutters.

Crack.

“Loud and clear, idiot.”

“I belong to Daniel Rooney!”

He closes his eyes, too exhausted to keep them open anymore, and waits for another crack of the whip, another spot exploding with pain.

“Well done, kiddo.”

There are footsteps as Daniel turns the cameras off and releases the chain, the only thing supporting Wren’s body. He collapses onto the floor and screams again, the bloody mess that is his back flaring up with the shift in position. He takes a deep, shaky breath, on the verge of mercifully passing out when he hears and feels Daniel stand right over him.

“This might hurt a little.”

“No…”, Wren chokes out, and in the next second he yowls in agony when some kind of disinfectant is poured on the wounds, aggravating the pain, making it even more unbearable than it was during the whipping itself, and then a new kind of pain joins in when Daniel leans over him and whispers:

“You’re so beautiful like this, sweetheart.”

Next

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes. (9)

―; summary: Jacob introduces Florence to her soon-to-be favourite pub.

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 3.3k

―; warnings: light swearing.

―; A/N: they’re literally so baby together my heart cannot handle like?? i genuinely adore them and writing for them and sometimes i worry that i’m making this too long but then i remember that this makes me happy so ??? sucks to be someone who doesn’t like long fics i guess??

please coo with me about them!! i need to know i’m not weird for being so emotionally attached

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

― ❊ ―

The pub that Jacob had taken her to-- The Maiden’s Crown-- was far too busy for it only being early afternoon. Though, Florence did have to admit, a smile came to her face when she heard the haggard and out-of-tune singing of the patrons. There was something almost endearing in watching a crowd of grown men sing at the top of their lungs along to near-operatic songs but, on the other spin of the coin, Florence could-- with confidence-- say that Duncan could yowl the lyrics better than that.

It was a nice enough place, if one were to disregard the obvious disrepair. Green accents painted the pub and there was a rather lovely painting of the Thames of the far wall behind the bar; if you squinted your eyes, you could barely see the stain on the canvas, which was good, she supposed. All things considered, while it wasn’t as high-end as the one in Westminster that she and her brother frequented, it wasn’t the worst place for Jacob to have taken her. At least it wasn’t in Whitechapel.

She’d never been a lover of beer or ale on the account of it tasting like piss so she could only hope that this pub served a particularly flavourful sherry or sloe gin. Even the putrid smell of ale made Florence’s nose crinkle as herself and Jacob weaved through the mass of drinkers; she’d never understood how Freddy could stomach it when they drank together.

“Why does it seem like everyone here knows you, Jacob?” She asked just as they got to the bar. He squeezed between a few men, one of whom he said a brief ‘hello’ to, before shuffling her in alongside him. The barman, obviously pleased to see a lady who had at least washed in the past week, promptly swept over to them, to which Florence muttered that she’d like a glass of sloe gin and he went away to prepare it before Jacob could even open his mouth to ask for anything.

Despite that little problem, Jacob, now leaning against the bar, still shot Florence a grin. “Pubs are the best place to recruit. Or, to soften someone up so they’re easier to get information out of.”

“Oh, conniving-- I like it.” Florence gave him a playful side-eye before nodding a thank you to the bartender and taking a small sip of her drink. Her face soured slightly at the strength of her drink but the sweet aftertaste made up for it, making for an altogether amusing expression, to which Jacob��s lips tugged upwards.

“You like me for my schemes but not my devilish good looks? Or, my superb sense of humour?” He raised a brow, a smirk gracing his expression. Briefly, he pointed to a bottle on the back shelf and the bartender set it down before him.

Florence took another sip of her gin, holding the glass just beside her mouth, then replied with a simple: “Why can I not like you for all three?”. Her smile was small and amused but her eyes told of perhaps a larger confession. Jacob’s expression softened, melting from a cocky grin to a glint in his eyes that declared fondness. Did she still want to kiss him? For a moment that Jacob barely had time to pick up on, her eyes flickered down to his lips. Yes, she most certainly did still want to kiss him. The stammering in her chest told her, if the romance novels she always read had taught her anything, that perhaps now was the moment to make up for her hesitation the other night.

Their gazes remained locked for a moment then Florence, heart pounding, went to move forward to grab his hands. However, in an unfortunate turn of events, a hand-- that wasn’t hers-- clapped to Jacob’s shoulder, making his bottle of beer slosh dangerously. There was a half-shout of “Jacob, my boy!” before he could even turn to look at the offending bloke. “The lads and I haven’t had a chat with you for too long, son. You have to come over--”

“I’m a bit--” Hazel eyes flickered to Florence, who was staring into her sloe gin and scratching her nose in an effort to not draw the attention of the hulking man beside Jacob, “--occupied at the moment--”

“Nonsense! Come on, son.” The grip on his shoulder tightened and Jacob was tugged from his spot. He shot her an apologetic look but, before he could actually open his mouth to say anything, the bigger man began to ramble about… something or another; truthfully, Jacob’s mind was elsewhere.

Florence watched after him for a few moments before focusing her attention on her drink again, swirling the reddish liquid about in its glass. She took a bigger gulp than perhaps was usual for a woman of her stature, hissed through her teeth at the taste, and turned herself slightly so she wouldn’t be tempted to stare endlessly at Jacob across the room.

Damn whatever God had decided to put a stop in the cogs of her plan. Well, it was hardly a fully-fledged plan but, nevertheless, it would’ve been nice to have seen its outcome. Or, would it have been? Anxiety bubbled up within her; there was always the chance that she’d read Jacob all wrong and he didn’t actually like her. Then, as if she was watching a puppet show in her mind, a little image of Lissie popped up and pulled a stern face at her. Florence laughed to herself, sipping at her drink again.

In fact, she continued to sip at her drink until a body squeezed in beside her. Expecting it to be Jacob again, Florence turned with a smile. The smile continued to hold out of pure discomfort when she realised it wasn’t Jacob and was actually a man whose breath smelt quite terribly of beer. He was grinning down at her-- no doubt trying to be charming-- but the only thing Florence took from that was that she’d need to ask Lissie to wash her dress later on.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Oh, God.

Florence sipped her drink, using it as a few moments to switch her mind into ‘presentable lady’ mode, then placed her glass on the bar beside her. Her smile was sweet but her eyes screamed of annoyance. “Good afternoon, sir.”

The man, in an attempt to get closer to her without her noticing, pointed over her shoulder toward a bottle on the shelf, ordering the bartender to throw it to him. He did so, to which Florence had to duck, lest a bottle smash against the side of her face. Then, he popped the cork out of it with his teeth and spat it elsewhere. She suppressed a sigh.

“What’s your name, love?” He took a swig of beer and leant on the bar. “Benjamin Treadway, myself. Lovely to make your acquaintance.” He held a palm out and she placed her hand it in. This Ben fellow then kissed her hand, trying to maintain a sultry eye contact but, as soon as she could, Florence was taking a sip from her drink again. She wondered if she could ask the bartender to make the gin any stronger.

“I’m Florence Abberline.” Her joy was dissipating by the minute and, by chance, when her gaze trailed to the table Jacob had been dragged to, their eyes met and she shot him a small frown that pleaded for help.

A certain recognition crossed Ben’s face. “Right! You’re the sister of that bobby-- what’s his name? Frank, is it? Francis--”

“Frederick. His name is Frederick.”

“Ah, yes, that’s the one! I’m surprised, is all; never expected shared genes with him would make for a pretty lady.”

Florence furrowed her brows, quite visibly displeased at this. What was he implying? That Freddy was ugly? It was a wonder, really, how he expected to woo a lady by insulting her brother first. “My brother is handsome enough, thank you. Nor is he here to defend himself.” She tried hard not to spit this and, to quell her frustration, she covered her mouth with her glass.

A crooked little smirk pulled his lips upwards. “Oh, she’s a feisty one. Don’t usually find those about.” He took a swig of beer and set it down on the bar beside him, beady little eyes inspecting her features. “What brings such a posh bird to these premises? Don’t your type like to stay at home and… sew or summin’?”

As Florence tried to muster up a half-sensible answer, she could feel someone watching her; with luck, it was Jacob. To assume this would be correct. He, over his bottle of beer, was carefully studying how close the bloke was stood to Florence, where his hands would inch as their conversation continued, how he kept glancing down to the gap between the top of her bodice and her collar. He had a distinct look in his eyes-- one that tipped the other men off around the table to his growing concern. The man that had dragged him over, Richard, followed his gaze upon realising how Jacob had leant back in his chair, slumped and rubbing the top of the bottle against his bottom lip.

“You alright, son?” He asked, the clap on his shoulder gentler now but still enough to draw Jacob’s attention away from Florence for a few moments. “That bloke bothering you?”

“No.” He took a swig of his drink and gestured loosely to the pair on the other side of the pub. “He’s bothering the lady.” Just as Jacob said this, Ben went to play with a tassel on her shawl and Florence slapped his hand away, clenching her jaw and turning to ask the bartender to fill her drink up again.

Richard pursed his lips. “You fancy her?”

“You could say that.”

The boys around the table shared a laugh and Richard shook Jacob’s arm, amused. “Well,” His other hand pointed to Florence and Benjamin, “what’re you doing letting that scumbag chat her up?”

Jacob sighed, eyes flickering between the man at his side and the pair at the bar, trying to muster up an answer. “She’s not the type to want to be saved; I don’t want her to think that I think she’s incapable.”

They both looked back toward Florence, who necked half of her gin and raised her eyebrows at whatever the bloke was saying. He let out one of those idiotic fake laughs and placed a hand on her arm, to which her lips twisted into an uncomfortable smile and she threw her gaze in the direction of Jacob, silently asking him to hurry the fuck up with his business.

“That’s the look of a woman who’ll start scrapping in a minute if you don’t help her.” The boys chuckled, murmuring their agreement. “I don’t think she needs to be saved-- more so… distracted.” Richard gave Jacob a push and the younger of the pair set his bottle down on the table and stood up. A little nod gave thanks to Richard and the men sat around the table gave a quiet cheer, causing Jacob to huff out a laugh on his way toward Florence.

There were a few mutters of “excuse me” and “sorry” before she noticed Jacob behind Ben. A light tap came to the lankier’s shoulder. “Hello, mate. Sorry to be a bother but you appear to be stood in the only available spot next to my wife.” Jacob glanced down to Florence’s fingers-- her rings-- and she rather nimbly moved one to her wedding finger.

This would be fun.

Ben glanced back to her, down to her hands, then up to her face. His eyes narrowed. “Haven’t heard of the bobby’s sister getting married.”

“Small ceremony.” Florence mentioned, taking a sip of her gin to hide her growing smile. Jacob had to refrain from laughing but the way he exhaled sounded dangerously close to it. “We wedded in spring; it was just with my family and his. Beautiful occasion, really.”

“Indeed.” Jacob mentioned, pushing the bloke aside with a hand to stand just in front of Florence. To conserve space-- or perhaps to keep their act up-- he snuck an arm around her back, making sure that his hand was seen at the curve of her waist. “Lovely affair. Her bouquet had tulips in it; they contrasted quite nicely against her dress.”

Florence couldn’t hold back a grin so she used it to look up at Jacob and act like she was in love. However, when he mirrored her gaze, huffing out a quiet laugh, she wasn’t quite sure if it was entirely acting. Would now be okay to kiss him? It would simply be a part of the act if all went wrong. Oh, goodness--

“How lovely.” Ben’s voice was mocking, eyes narrowed and mouth pulled into a tight line. He gave her another look up and down. “Why’s her name still Abberline then?” He pointed loosely to her. It was almost like he was grasping at straws to try to win her back as if she was some kind of prize to be had.

She felt Jacob squeeze her side briefly, as if to tell her that he’d handle it. “I’m a Frye-- Jacob Frye.” Hazel eyes had a certain darkness to them and his smile held a challenge. Ben’s focus seemed to have finally pulled away from her, now staring quite dumbly at Jacob. His gaze flickered from the scars Jacob had to the gun that peeked out from behind his coat and he visibly shrunk back into himself. “It’s dangerous to have a name like mine in London these days so we decided that she’d keep to ‘Abberline’.” Jacob tilted his head briefly, narrowing his eyes and smiling, “For her own safety.”

Florence had never realised how much influence he had on others, though she supposed she’d never given him reason to be anything but kind to her-- mostly. By the way that his broadness all of a sudden seemed imposing and how the hand that wasn’t holding her curled into a fist, Florence could tell that Jacob was more than experienced at this. God, how she wished she had the same effect on people that she didn’t like.

“Now, mate,” Jacob hissed through his teeth, pointing a finger at a now very small-looking Ben, “I suggest you leave my wife alone. We don’t want any blood on her lovely dress, do we?”

Ben gave a little nod and, much like the rat he was, scurried away. Florence watched him with a pleased grin, nose upturned slightly and a happy hum beginning in her chest. The dimple was there again, which brought great joy to Jacob when he tore his gaze from the back of Ben’s head and finally looked at her.

“Good work, dear husband.” She was still smiling when she turned to him. He chuckled lightly, the sound pushed out by an exhale, and raised a brow. Florence, however, continued before he could say anything. “I hadn’t realised you could add any poison to your words; you’re always so… soft for me.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, though there was a little smile painted across his features that told her that she’d figured him out, and spun so that he was facing her. He replied with a simple “What? You want me to be hard for you?” and, when they locked eyes and he muttered a “wait--”, Florence began that dreadful laugh of hers.

“Certainly not in public, Jacob.” She, through a dirty little smirk, took a sip of her gin, though was having quite some trouble keeping it in her mouth.

Unfortunately for her, when Jacob began to chuckle-- a bottom-of-the-stomach laugh that made his head loll backwards, she had to cover her mouth lest the deep red of her gin spray all over him. Finally, she swallowed and took a deep inhale, trying to calm down her terrible giggling. Both her hands came to Jacob’s arms to keep herself steady and he could feel the remnants of her laugh shaking through her body. When Florence was able to straighten herself again, cheeks hurting from grinning, honey melded with hazel as their eyes met and both their smiles softened, her grip on his arms becoming gentler. Her gaze flickered across his face and a certain, sudden sense of worry sparked within her.

“Jacob, can I kiss you?”

His eyes searched hers, struck speechless for a few moments. Florence looked like she’d just taken a leap from the tallest building in the world and was bracing for the inevitable, messy impact. Was she even breathing? She wasn’t sure she could.

“What?” was the only word he could muster, though it was mostly because his brain was racing to catch up with the real world again. Jacob stumbled over his own thoughts, distracted by the growing redness to her face and the mere idea that she might even like him.

Florence cursed herself and the world. She’d fucked it. She took a shaky breath and let go of his arms. “I simply asked if you’d perhaps like to kiss me but I--”

Lips stopped her, calloused hands on either cheek. The sudden journey from shock to happiness happened so quickly that Florence worried that she might start crying. That feeling that began to bloom in her chest was something that no romance novel could have prepared her for. It felt like the rest of the world had suddenly ceased to exist and it was only him and his lips and his hands and his smell and--

Fingers weaved into Jacob’s dark hair in a selfish attempt to prolong the kiss, though he seemed to have no qualms with appeasing her. She could feel her heartbeat in her chest, in her ears, in her thumbs and neck. The fall was not so terrible; he had caught her just before she hit the cold, hard ground.

It was her who pulled away first-- the singing and chatter about the pub returning to her ears. Jacob could hardly complain when he saw the light of her smile and saw her shoulders shaking with the beginnings of a breathless laugh. The hands on her cheeks squeezed a little bit, squishing her grin back in on itself, so that Jacob could make sure that it was real and not a tormenting daydream. Fingers wrapped around his wrists, giggling only getting louder, to ask what he was doing without words. He mirrored her smile, pulling her forward so that their foreheads might touch, and muttered a “You have no idea how often I’ve thought about that.”

Perhaps her ego had danced a little at those words-- how long had he liked her for?-- but, even so, she felt this little worried, shaking part of her being click into its place for the first time in years. “I’d never realised.”

“You must be blind then.”

Florence moved forward to kiss him again, smiling against his lips. It was shorter than the other-- he barely had time to rest his hands on the curve of her skirts-- but it was so achingly sweet and normal that he didn’t mind that it ended when it did. Then, her fingers came to play with the collar of his shirt, straightening it and pursing her lips. There was such a distinct sense of contentment that he would be happy to watch her do that for the rest of his days. Her eyes seemed golden, melting under the pressure of her newfound feelings, when she looked up to him.

“Well, I’m not blind anymore.”

[deaky-disco-queen]

Find A Cat, Get A(nother) Boyfriend (Poly!Queen Week Day 4)

A/N: Prompt: Supernatural/Fantasy AU; 

Can also be read on AO3.

+++

Brian carded his fingers through John’s hair, gently scratching over his scalp as they were lying on the grass in their small yard, enjoying the early morning sun. John was half asleep against him and Brian, who had never been a morning person, wasn’t far behind him. 

He sighed contently, eyes falling shut, slowly drifting into a doze, his hand stilling, still tangled in John’s hair.

A soft meow startled him awake, his flinch waking John, too. Right next to them sat a grey tabby cat with its tail curled around its paws. Its green eyes were trained on them and Brian chuckled softly. 

    “Hello there, lovely.” John said, holding out his hand for the cat to smell it. “Where do you come from?” 

The cat rubbed its head against his hand, purring softly. Brian scratched its chin. 

    “Do you belong to any of our neighbours?” he asked as if there was any chance it would answer. 

The cat didn’t seem to be shy or hostile at all as it stepped closer to them and curled up next to them, pressed up against Brian’s side. He exchanged a look with John, a smile on the younger man’s face. 

    “Look at you, working your dryad charm on stray cats.” 

    “I’m not ‘working my charm’. Animals like me and you know that.”

John laughed, kissing his cheek before settling back down on his Brian’s chest, one hand petting the cat. Brian rolled his eyes fondly and rested his hand between his shoulder blades. 

That was how Freddie and Roger found them. 

Freddie let out a shrill sound at the sight at the cat, immediately dropping to his knees besides them, making kissing and cooing noises at it. The cat loved it apparently, purring loudly, eyes closed as it leaned into his touch. 

    “Oh, what a darling! Where does this beautiful baby come from?” 

Roger unceremoniously dropped next to them, kissing both of them as a greeting. 

    “She just showed up here, we don’t know who she belongs to.” Brian said. 

Freddie picked her up and put her into his lap, where she stayed happily, kneading his thigh. The siren kept cooing and making some more inhuman noises but she didn’t seem to mind that. 

    “How do you know she’s a girl?” Roger wanted to know. 

    “Intuition.” 

John got up with a lingering kiss to Brian’s lips. Roger playfully slapped his ass, making him yelp and swat at him. He just giggled and took his place on top of Brian, nuzzling into his neck as he lazily mouthed at the dark mark on his neck he had left there the night before. 

    “She doesn’t look very lost to me.” John observed as he stood next to Freddie. “She probably belongs to a neighbour or something.”

They continued playing with the cat for a little bit until it was time for lunch. Reluctantly, Freddie separated from the feline. Inside their apartment, they could hear her meowing from the yard. More than once, he got up and tried to spot her from the window. They had to coax him away and during lunch, he kept looking towards the windows, more playing with his food instead of eating it. 

Shortly after, it started raining and Freddie shoved Roger’s legs off his lap and got off the sofa, already pulling on a jacket. 

    “Freddie, what are you doing?” 

    “I’m going to look for her! It’s raining! I can’t leave her outside in this weather!” 

Brian rushed after him, hearing the other two behind him.

It wasn’t raining overly hard but it was cold and windy. It probably didn’t bother Freddie that much as he was a siren but Roger hissed when they stepped outside. None of them got back in, though, instead walking around the yard, trying to spot the cat or coaxing her out of her hiding spot by making various noises, hoping to catch the cats attention.

It was John who finally found her, curled up in a bush. He managed to get her out and Freddie wrapped her up into his jacket to protect her from the rain as he carried her inside.

Back in their apartment, she kept close to Roger, drawn to him by- what they assumed- was his higher than usual body temperature. Freddie found some left-over fish in the fridge and filled a bowl with it and placed it on the floor, along with a bowl of water.

The cat curled up in their bed that night, squeezed in between Brian and Roger.

+++

Brian sat on the floor, wriggling a piece of yarn while the cat- Freddie had called her Darling- hid beneath the kitchen table, wriggling her butt in preparation for her attack. She caught the string, almost crashing into the sofa in the process and Brian laughed while Darling wrestled with her toy.

It was still raining quite badly outside and they all had been confined to the apartment when they didn’t want to get wet. Of course, Freddie wasn’t bothered by the weather at all and had offered to go to the store when they ran out of milk. None of them except Roger had a problem with it, actually.

He managed to snatched the yarn, dangling it in front of her and made her jump to catch it.  

An explosion from the TV made him look up to where Roger and John were curled up together on the sofa, watching some kind of action movie. Roger caught him looking and winked at him. Brian rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue, which only made him wiggle his eyebrows suggestively.

Darling jumped at him, attacking his hand, biting his hand without any force behind it just to immediately lick it. Brian laughed, wiggling his fingers before gently pulling her off and kissing her little forehead. She purred happily.

The door opened, then, and in came Freddie, carrying two big bags and looking drenched but not unhappy.

   “I come bearing gifts, my sweetlings!”

Darling let out a mewl and trotted over to him to rub herself along his legs, her tail flickering in excitement.

Brian got up to take the bags from him while squatted down to pet her.

   “Hello, beautiful! I have missed you!”

Freddie went to their bedroom to change into dry clothes and John got up to help Brian put the groceries away. Darling jumped on the kitchen counter, curious about every item, getting in their way constantly, purring the whole way through and trying to climb on their shoulders.

Once everything was sorted and put into their respective place, they settled down on the sofa with Darling curled up on the backrest.

It was quiet and domestic until Darling suddenly jumped up and sprinted to one of the windows, yowling loudly and startling all of them. She was scratching at the glass, jumping and screaming.

   “What’s wrong with her?” Roger yelled.

Freddie rushed to her and tried to calm her down, without success.

“What does she want?” John asked. “Is it something outside?”

The siren peered out the window, trying to spot what was upsetting her so much.

   “I don’t know! All I can see is a guy with an umbrella!”

   “Brian, what does she want?”

   “I don’t know! That’s not how that works! I don’t speak cat! It’s more like an empath thing and she is very upset!”

Brian managed to wrangle Darling off the window sill and while she was still yowling, she settled down a little bit and didn’t try to scratch him or anything. Roger pushed Freddie from the window to open it and leaned outside, trying to spot anything.

Darling let out a loud yell and Brian let her go, afraid he had hurt her. Immediately, she was back on the window sill.

   “Opal!” Came a voice from the street and Freddie and Brian tried to see what was going on.

There was a man with an umbrella- just as Freddie said- and he was looking up at their window, looking relieved and happy. Darling meowed happily.

   “Oh shit! Are you her owner?” Freddie called down.

   “Yes!”

They exchanged a quick look and John threw a quick glamour over them, hiding the small things that gave them away as non-human before they rang the man up.

He had short, dark hair and kind brown eyes and his clothes were damp, especially his lower pant legs and his arms. It seemed like his umbrella hadn’t protected him very well from the rain.

Darling- or Opal, apparently- immediately rushed towards him, chattering and meowing.

   “Where have you been? I have been looking for you everywhere the past two days!”

   “Oh my, you’re absolutely drenched, darling! Come in, we’ll make you a cup of tea until it clears up a bit!”

Roger stiffened besides Brian and he grabbed his hands to squeeze it reassuringly. He watched obviously displeased as Freddie guided the man, who introduced himself as Jim, into their apartment.

A few minutes later, Jim was sitting in their kitchen, wearing one of Freddie’s shirt and John’s sweatpants, drinking a cup of tea with Opal curled up on his lap, purring contentedly.

   “I’m terrible sorry for intruding and imposing like this. I can’t thank you enough to take care of Opal.”

Freddie placed a plate of biscuits on the table. Roger’s leg was bouncing underneath the table and he kept glancing towards Jim a lot, mouth a thin line. John sat next to him, their thighs pressed together to ground him a little bit.

   “Oh, it was no trouble at all. She was a real darling, right baby?”

Freddie crouched down, scratching Opal’s chin before he sat down, too. Brian hooked his ankle around Roger’s.

Jim and Opal only stayed for a couple of hours until the rain slowed down a little bit, promising to return the borrowed clothes as soon as he cleaned them, his own- still damp- clothes wrapped up in a towel. He thanked them again and then left.

Roger sighed, visibly relieved as John’s glamour fell and pulled them into the bedroom to work out the territorial feelings that he had suppressed during the visit.

+++

John was making breakfast a couple of days later when the doorbell rang. He cleaned his hands quickly and threw a quick glamour over himself before he opened the door to reveal Jim.

“Hello, John.”

He smiled gently and John returned it. Jim held up the bag they had given him for his clothes.

   “Oh, thank you. Do you want to come in?” he asked.

   “Ah, no, thank you, I’ll have to get back to work, my break is already almost over. I just wanted to return this real quick and say thanks again.”

John took the bag and watched him leave, peering through the spy hole as Jim walked down the hallway. The clothes smelled freshly washed and flowery.

+++

Opal showed up again a week later, sitting in front of their door as Freddie came home and he stared at the cat for a few seconds before he laughed. Opal blinked at him and trotted over to him, climbing up his pants to get up his shoulders.

   “What the hell are you doing back here, my dear? Are you worrying Jim again?”

She purred happily and licked his cheek.

   “If you keep showing up here, we’ll have to ask your dad for his number so he doesn’t have to worry so much.”

She kept him company for the evening, sleeping next to him or cuddling up to him while purring and licking his hands when she could reach them. Eventually, she got up and waited at their door until he let her out.

+++

Roger was woken by their phone ringing and he groaned as he struggled to his feet, almost stumbling into a wall.

   “H’llo?”

   “Roger? I am terrible sorry to disturb you this early but is Opal with you?”

He suppressed a yawn and looked around their apartment. There was a tail sticking out from their bookcase and he chuckled.

   “Yeah, she is here.”

   “Thank you, I was getting worried. I’m sorry for the troubles. Have a good day, Roger.”

“You too, Jim.”

+++

Brian peered over Jim’s shoulders, watching him knead the bread dough. John was hovering by his other side, also watching with interest. Behind them, Roger and Freddie were playing scrabble at the table, arguing over whether or not a word actually counted.

   “You really never made bread?” Jim asked.

   “No, never.” they answered in unison.

Jim put the bread into oven and then they joined the other two in their game, giving tips and laughing at the words they came up with. Roger fetched one of his wine bottles and since they didn’t have any wine glasses they used the champagne glasses they had. Opal stretched across the scrabble board.

Later, they tried the bread Jim made and it was delicious.

+++

   “So you usually hang out here?” Jim asked, letting his eyes rake over the yard, smiling.

Roger laughed and threw his legs into his lap, wiggling his toes against his thigh until Jim flicked his nose.

   “Yeah, Deaks and Bri like the trees. Sometimes, we drive to a lake so Freddie can get a good swim in. But most of the time we’re here or in the apartment. When we’re not working that is.”

Brian finished the flower crown he had been braiding and placed it on Freddie’s head. He got a kiss for his troubles and then went on to work on the next one. He could see Jim blushing out of the corner of his eye.

   “Sorry.” he said, not wanting to embarrass their new friend.

   “No, no! It’s alright. I wasn’t- I didn’t-”

Freddie simply cut Jim off with a quick peck and Jim’s blush traveled down his neck. Roger cheered and John laughed while Brian rolled his eyes.

   “No need to be jealous, dear. Brian will make you a crown, too.”

Jim groaned and buried his face in his hands, his chuckles muffled. John sat down next to him, bumping their shoulders together before he went back to reading his book.

+++

Freddie’s singing woke Brian and he hummed tiredly, listening to the otherworldly sounds. It sounded almost like words but just off enough to sound magical. It was soothing and Brian shuffled beneath the covers, basking in the remains of his dreams.

His hand brushed a warm body next to him and he curled towards him, resting his forehead against his side, one hand resting on his chest. The smell of coffee and sandalwood told him it was Jim.

He noticed him trembling underneath his hand and frowned, opening his eyes to look at him.

Jim was staring at the door, eyes wide and tears in his eyes.

   “You haven’t heard him sing yet.” Brian realized.

Jim looked at him, mutely shaking his head. Brian smiled gently, leaning up to kiss him softly, brushing the tears off his face.

   “He sings a lot for us.” Brian murmured between kisses. “You get used to it after a while.”

They made out for a while longer, then Brian actually coaxed Jim out of bed even if it was far too early for his taste to join Freddie in the living room. He was sitting at the piano. When he spotted them, he stopped and jumped up to greet them with a kiss.

   “Good morning, my loves!”

   “Morning, Fred, will you play us something happy?” Brian asked.

Freddie grinned and nodded, returning to the piano. Brian and Jim settled down on the floor next to him, listening to him with closed eyes, their fingers tangled together.

+++

Opal bumped her head against Brian’s chin, making him laugh and kiss her forehead. She was purring loudly, digging her claws into his shoulder. He pressed his face into her fur but looked up when he heard a camera shutter.

Jim looked almost apologetic but more fond than anything else, lowering his phone.

   “Sorry, I don’t know how to turn the sound off.”

John scoffed and reached across Roger, who was lying over both his and Jim’s lap to snatch his phone from his hands.

   “No offense, sweetheart, but who the fuck doesn’t know how to do that? You mute it. Look, like this.”

John did something on the phone, then aimed it at Roger. He pulled a face and put up his middle fingers. There was no sound and the fairy showed Jim the pic he had taken.

   “I’m a fairy and I know that!”

   “You have a weird obsession with technology!” Freddie said, popping a strawberry into his mouth. “Your opinion doesn’t matter. I love you, Deaky, but it doesn’t matter.”

Brian chuckled, then made a strangled sound when Opal used him as a stepping stone to jump onto the shelf behind him. Immediately, Freddie threw his arm over his shoulders and pulled him flush against him but made kissing noises at Opal who chittered back, much to Freddie’s glee.

He tangled his fingers into Brian’s hair, mussing up his curls.

   “I’m making this my phone background.” Jim said, then paused. “John?”

John stared at Jim with a blank face for a second, then held out his hand.

   “You’re lucky you’re the cutest of us because I wouldn’t tolerate this from Roger.”

They laughed at Roger insulted noise and after he admitted that Jim was, in fact, the cutest of the bunch, he got a kiss from John and from Jim which made him happy enough to cause his tail to swish.

Freddie’s hand that wasn’t in Brian’s hair came to rest on the small strip of skin that his ridden up shirt left exposed, gently thumbing over his hip bone.

   “I love you.” Jim said softly.

   “We love you too, darling.” Freddie said.

Roger grabbed his hand, grinning widely. John groaned.

   “Oh, now you’ve done it! Do not let him seduce you into moving in! He will try and he is very convincing as you can see.”

   “I wasn’t convinced to move in.” Brian said, frowning.

Roger waggled his eyebrows at him and threw him a kiss. Brian sighed but Freddie pretended to catch it and pressed it against his lips.

   “That wasn’t meant for you, you wanker!” Roger chucked a pillow at Freddie but missed so hard it made them cackle. “And who says I didn’t seduce you, Bri? Maybe I’m just that good.”

   “I’m so sorry we made you fall in love with us, we do not know how that happened.”

Jim laughed, the look on his face was filled with love and Brian actually felt himself choking up a little bit, a blush rising on his cheeks.

   “I really don’t mind.”

[difficultplaces]

QUESTIONS FOR FAWKES 

The Yowler Skulker and earth lover talks trash, togetherness, and remaining open to future injury

I’m ready to interview you. Marvelous.

Did you know you’re in a band? I didn’t. But it doesn’t surprise me, frankly.

It’s called SIDP. Oh my God! I love it, that’s so good.

What other bands are you in? I was in a band. I still am. Called “Jonathan” because my college roommate and I were like we should have a band and he said what’s a good name and I said Jonathan’s a good name so we named the band Jonathan.

What is your role in Sheep? I wouldn’t dignify what I do by calling it singing because I feel like thats an insult to singers everywhere. What I do is produce mouth sounds. A sort of yowl, like an indigent cat.

Who are your musical influences? Honestly, it’s whoever I’ve been listening to recently—I wanna write a song like that. 

Do you have any advice for up and coming bands? If you’re producing something that is that intimate it needs to be authentic. It needs to come from the heart, it needs to be something that you very desperately want to share with the world. And after you’ve played a song several hundred times for other people maybe that changes how you feel about it but at the very least in the beginning you need to have that, you need to feel like its clawing its way out of you that if you don’t make this music then you’ll just explode. 

Who do you influence? I like to think I have a really profound influence on my garbage collector because they see the various instruments in various states of repair and destruction and they have to think something really terrible is happening here but the reality is that I am bad at buying used instruments on the internet. 

Where were you born? Somewhere further south of here. 

If that place could speak, what would it say? “THERE’S TOO MANY PEOPLE. OH, GOD, WHY. NO. SOME OF YOU NEED TO LEAVE. THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS. STOP PUTTING THINGS IN THE GROUND.”

What makes you angry? The universal idea of man’s inhumanity to man. The futility of so many political or ethical discussions that just end with me shouting “I can’t make you care about other people. Why do you not care about other people?” Another thing that makes me very upset—and this may be surprising because of my previous answer—is hopelessness. I think that there is always far more hope than is readily apparent or, rather, than people want to see because hope is an invitation for future injury. At least, that’s how a lot of people see it. I think that hope is also a responsibility because it spurs action and it is genuinely and deeply felt. Everyone does this to some extent, people would choose to not hope for a better world because if they did they would have to acknowledge that maybe they would not be able to continue doing things as they are doing them. So hopelessness is very frustrating to me.

What makes you happy? Walking through Oakland when it’s sunny. And people who are out doing yard work or talking in front of a convenience store or children are being loud and irritating. It’s funny, I—for a long time—whenever I heard kids running around screaming I would get agitated because yeah it’s grating but I’ve tried to like it through cognitive training and also adding in the response of thinking “Ah, the children are playing and that means things are okay right now.”  I think I am happiest in the moments where I am able to be very present and look around and think about just how pleasant it is to be where I am doing what I’m doing and just be grateful and happy that I am in this moment in this place in the universe.

What’s yer day job? I spend a lot of time typing at a computer and even more time reading things at a computer and in the course of reading and typing things I try to make the world just a little safer. The specifics of it are wonky and unnecessary. 

What do you do at night? Usually I waste time in front of a computer but tonight I am out walking through Rockridge and up into the hills. It’s something I started doing late last year—going for walks or running at night there’s something very soothing and peaceful about the city sleeping and the suburbs sleeping.

What would you say your responsibilities are? All of the things you experience that are not joy prepare you to take pleasure in what comes next. You need to take pleasure in what you do because even the things you experience that are not strictly pleasurable are preparing you to experience pleasure. They’re giving contrast for pleasure to have meaning. If you live at a certain altitude, that’s just where the ground is. You don’t have to think about the fact that other people live at different altitudes. It just doesn’t mean anything to you. But if you go up or down you notice it. It’s the same thing with emotions. We are programmed such that we only understand things through contrast. It’s only the differences that have any meaning. That’s how we read the world. Through what is and what isn’t. 

What’s the last thing you fixed? I was cleaning the kitchen and we have a glass vase that holds cooking utensils and I was washing it in the sink and I dropped it and it cracked. It didn’t break. And I applied a bunch of tape around it. Around the inside and the outside so if it broke it wouldn’t go anywhere. So it’s not exactly a fix. It’s a kind of a fix. It’s safer to use now.

What’s the last thing you broke? We don’t fix all the things that we break do we? We never do. I don’t think we do. Let’s just go with the glass vase because it will take me too long to think of something else but if anything jumps out I’ll howl. [Can you bahh instead to be on theme?] Well, a howl could work too. It could be a wolf in sheep clothing. “How did I get to this difficult place? I’ll never tell. Come closer, farmhand. Rescue me from this place.”

Know any secrets about walking at night that you are willing to share? Yes. [silence]. That was my answer.

What have you learned about life while walking at night? It’s very easy to convince yourself to be afraid of things. But it’s very hard to convince yourself not to be afraid of things. I guess one of the things I enjoy about walking at night is that it presents many opportunities to test myself in that way. Forcing me to continue on even though I may be afraid. Because there’s a quote maybe from a Disney movie, “How can you be brave when you’re scared? Well, that’s the only time you can be brave.” It’s true, bravery is only something that occurs in opposition to fear. I also learned that one of the things that makes me happy and fills me with joy that warms me and makes me feel connected to humanity is walking by houses and seeing all of the lights on inside and seeing people sitting together watching tv or around tables eating or playing cards or talking. Little snapshot vignettes into people’s lives. There’s something very powerful about the notion of home and hearth. Of family. Of togetherness. Of making these structures to protect us from the elements and curling up together and just being happy little organisms that can love each other and experience the joy of kinship. It can be hard during the day—the day is the time for working. But night we think of as a time for resting. And it’s also nice to remember everyone has a scene like that. I see all of these people and they’re just little automatons to me because I don’t know them but we are all that to each other. I feel a sense of empathy: any of these people could walk by my house and see me doing the same things. There’s this shared humanity in that. 

What have you forgotten? I usually know where I am. I tend to forget what time it is. I tend to do that everywhere but especially when I’m walking around at night.

If you wrote a children’s book, what would it be called? Probably something like “Everywhere Is The Environment” because I get so angry when people say “I don’t care about the environment.” I was on a date and someone said that—so where the fuck do you live? The vacuum of space? That is the place we are in. This is all environment.

If you could say one last thing to an enemy without fear of retribution, what would you say? All of my enemies are in a gym, a cafeteria thing, all the bleachers are pulled out. I’m standing on a platform we brought in which I am now regretting because it’s not a stage, it actually only enhances the fact that I’m well below them and their risers. So, I have a little microphone and, uh, soundcheck is difficult because it never goes the way you think it will and because it’s the 70s, no one thought I would be standing here. Infrastructure, what the fuck. I glare at Mitch McConnell, I wish evil things. “I’ll never tell where the antidote is—“ No, I’m kidding. The real answer, the main answer, is for all my delaying, I honestly don’t think I’d have anything to say to them because anything I could say would make me feel good in the moment and very small later. I couldn’t bring myself to say “I forgive you” or “We’re good.” I would probably look at at the sea of scowling faces and just kind of “Eh,” and wave my hand dismissively. I’ve got nothing here.

INTERVIEW CONDUCTED, CONDENSED, AND EDITED BY BLEATR

[thelastmorozova]

Title: Murder Eyes and Wedding Cake

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes (pre-relationship)

Summary:  “ Steve’s first impression of his new neighbour is the large and fluffy ginger cat being thrust unceremoniously into his face.”

Crack. Glorious crack. I don't even know what this trash is. It's 6:30am and the ramblings of an insomniac who wanted to try her hand at some Stucky. Maybe I'll continue it if people like it, lmao. Credit to Ginge, the large, ginger fluffball in my life. And to Kirby, his evil twin who most definitely inspired this story.

Steve’s first impression of his new neighbour is the large and fluffy ginger cat being thrust unceremoniously into his face the second the door opens, along with a stream of fairly desperate words. “You don’t know me and I don’t know you, but I have been awake almost twenty- three hours trying to perfect this fuckin’ cake and this little traitor just decided that he wanted to take a bite outta it while I was in the john. Look after him for an hour, wouldya?”

Steve stares for a long moment, attempting to take in the torrent of pleading. “I’m… uh…” Steve runs a hand awkwardly through his hair, dislodging the mechanical pencil from behind his ear. He catches it before it topples to the floor. “I’m allergic to most cats-?”

The man whines almost plaintively, pulling the now squirming tiger of a cat into his broad chest. “Really? Oh shit, I’m sorry. You’re not going to suddenly drop down and start dyin’ are you?”

“No, I just kind of… go red eyed and start sniffling.” It’s not a nice sight. Steve recalls the time he discovered his allergy; on the way home from school aged six and a ginger moggy that decided to rub itself up against his leg. When he’d leaned down and petted the purring cat, it had all gone downhill from there.

Cats. Cats. Why did it have to be cats? At least he isn’t allergic to dogs. …yet at least.

“Ah, fuck.” The man closes his eyes in something akin to defeat. “I’m doomed.”

Steve appraises his neighbour closer now that the cat isn’t blocking the view; to his credit, the man does look suitably desperate with his shaggy dark brown hair escaping the haphazard bun at the back of his head and his eyes smudged with tiredness. He also stares because oh shit, his new neighbour is something fine. Even if he is currently half crazy from fatigue. He has the whole… sexy murder eyes thing going on. The black sweatpants his neighbour wears are dusted with flour, as is the matching long-sleeved t-shirt and…

Is that a unicorn apron-?

Oh yes, it is. Steve takes in the sight of the baby pink apron; a prancing cartoon unicorn takes up most of the space upon its chest, surrounded by frosted cupcakes that he guesses are supposed to be stars. At first he thinks the unicorn is riding the rainbow beneath it, but upon closer look he realizes that the unicorn is actually farting it out. Along with the cupcakes. (Fully frosted? What an achievement!)

His neighbour follows his unblinking gaze and groans, raising the cat to cover his face momentarily. “My apron got ripped. I’m borrowin’ a… friend’s at the moment. A female friend I feel I should clarify.”

“It’s a free world,” Steve shrugs. “I’m not judgin’ you by your apron choices. Steve, by the way. You just moved into 7C?”

“Yeah-” he grins and tucks the grumbling cat under his left arm with a jostle and extends his right, Steve taking it briskly. “Call me Bucky. And this little shit is Voldemort.”

“Hey there Bucky. And uh… that’s kinda a cruel name for a cat, don’t you think? Does he commit murder or something?”

Bucky laughs darkly, glancing down at the cat and reaffirming his grip. Steve swears that its eyes scream bloody murder when his neighbour swoops a hard kiss down upon its fluffy head. “Yeah, well, His Dark Lord earned it barely outta kittenhood. You’d call him by his old name and he’d hiss and spit at you somethin’ crazy. The scars I have, man…”

“Oh, he was called Tom?” He says it without thinking.

A low warning hiss emanates from the ball of ginger fluff and Bucky groans, closing his eyes. “You’re not supposed to say the name, Steve. Now ya gotta watch out for his army of pure-blood alley cats.”

Steve laughs before he can stop himself, eyes flicking from the glowering cat to his owner. “You baking for a party?” Bucky really is quite beautiful in a rugged way. Upon closer inspection Steve spies a smear of red frosting upon his jaw, mingling with the light shadow of stubble upon his jaw line. Was it so terrible for him to want to lick it off when he’s barely known the man five minutes?

He shakes his head, raising his free hand and forcefully shoving the stray strands of hair behind his ear. “Nah. It’s for a wedding. I own a bakery, y’see. Family business and I handle the wedding cakes.” Bucky shrugs a shoulder.

“That’s cool. The bakery nearby?”

“A block over. There’s an apartment above but I let my sister have that. Too close to the workplace, y’know?  She’s always usin’ me as a guinea pig for her failed experiments. And she’s always up at the crack of dawn working on something or another.”

“Seems like you are as well” Steve points out. It is 7am after all. He wonders vaguely how the hell Bucky even knew that he was awake. Perhaps he had been all around the complex trying to shove his cat into someone’s arms all morning? That was an amusing image. He would pay good money to see 8A’s reaction.

“Sadly true. And on that note-” Voldemort yowls as Bucky flips him up a little so he can check the shiny metal watch upon his wrist, a low groan slipping from him. “Yeah, I gotta get this icing done before ten. Guess I’ll just put this one in the toilet, shut the door and stick some earphones in to drown out the death screeching and apologize later with sausage.” Bucky flashes him a wide grin and Steve returns it instantly, feeling like an utter fool. “Sorry for interrupting you. I’ll see you around, Steve.”

When Steve leaves the apartment to grab his mail that afternoon when he finally finishes up editing a panel, there’s a small cardboard container with a single black frosted cupcake inside waiting just outside the door. The piped icing design upon the top is in the design of the Dark Mark, but instead of a skull there’s a glowering cat instead. He laughs there and then within the corridor, causing old Mr. Voss to shoot him a disgusted look as he passes. You-Know-Who and I send our apologies for disturbing you – B the note scrawled upon the slip of paper reads. When he turns the note over, there’s a hastily written P.S.

Come over at 6pm? The wedding got called off (the fuck?!) and I have a two-tiered red velvet cake to get through for dinner. It comes with beer and a movie. Voldemort swears he’ll remain at the other side of the room with his sausages.

Steve reckons that he’s going to like this guy. Even when he ends up crawling home from eating way too much red velvet cake.

[wxldchxld]

lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up

One thing she missed about living in the wild was the utter lack of alarm clocks. You’d get the occasional noisy bird but most mornings, especially cold winter mornings when Beck felt that it was the perfect time to do nothing more than stay curled in a warm cocoon of covers, she was woken by the sun creeping in through a window or a tent flap. It was gradual, natural, and she roused when with the rest of the world as she was supposed to. 

Beck normally slept in her own bed down the hall from Ros. Even there she would hear the unholy caterwauling of the machine as it sang its blaring chorus in perfect symphony with Vlad’s incessant screams for food. The last two mornings she’d accompanied Ros to her own bed, and from three feet away the clock would wail in mechanical fury. Ros would peal herself out from under the covers almost immediately and soundlessly turn the clock off, then wander down the stairs to put on a pot of coffee. She was the only person Beck knew that actually woke up before her, as Beck always hopped out of bed early enough to see the sun rise.

Like the crow of a thousand dying roosters, the alarm clock howled out its song to the darkened room this morning as it did every other morning. Beck was still curled into Ros, radiating in the warmth of her lover. They’d both been too tired after the previous night’s—amorous activities to don any clothes and in her current state, drifting between comfortable sleep and annoyingly conscious, Beck noted how soft, how smooth, Ros’ skin felt against her own. She felt heavy and warm and the prospect of doing so much as lifting a finger felt like it would take the strength of ten men.

Ros wriggled, let out a tiny groan of discontent, and slapped at the clock until it shut up. Then, to the witch’s utter shock, Ros rolled back over into the exact same position, sighed, and sunk back into the covers. For the first time since they’d met, Ros had hit the snooze button. Considering they’d spent the previous day shuffling papers and clicking away at computers, Beck attributed Ros’ exhaustion to last night. A smile broke out over her face, and a tiny chuckle shook her shoulders.

“Oh shut up.” Ros grumbled; her voice was a barely audible hum buzzing in Beck’s ears. She rolled onto her back and mumbled something else Beck didn’t understand. The witch barely peaked open an eye to see there was a grin on Ros’ face as well.

“I didn’t say anything.” She said coyly, scooting so they were pressed against one another once more. Beck was forced to prop herself up a bit so that she could reach Ros’ lips. She sighed against her mouth. Her thumb absently rubbed against Ros’ jaw. They parted, or more so Beck pulled back, but not for long. Ros’ hand slid up along the curve of her hip to draw her closer and Beck let out a quiet hum of content as she met her lover’s lips again.

They were tired, sleep laden kisses shared in a lazy embrace but each one made her feel warmer. Rather than pull her further into the waking world, each brush of the lips threatened to drag her back into the clutches of sleep. She felt comfortable, content, safe. It was so rare, so strange to feel safe, and Beck knew that was a fragile feeling that would shatter the moment she left this bed. She would return to looking over her shoulder and waiting on bated breath for some sign of danger to rear its ugly head. Almost defiantly, Beck kissed Ros a third time; this time capturing one of Ros’ lips in her own and giving it the gentlest of tugs as she pulled away.

“Let’s tell Harry we’re sick.” She whispered mischievously.

“Beck…” Ros halfheartedly scolded, but she was smiling into the kiss.

“It’s true, see?” Beck let out a terrible fake cough that sounded more like a sigh. 

Ros chuckled beneath her. “Hmm yes well you’ve thoroughly convinced me.”

“And I coughed on you. You’re contagious. I’m contagio-” She was cut off by a yawn that seized control of her entire body. It was that which finally prompted Ros to gently push Beck back off her and sit up. Beck pried open her eyes to look up at her, and saw that Ros was rubbing her face. 

She swooped down, pressed a final chaste kiss to the little witch’s lips and slid from the bed without another word. 

Stubborn as a mule, Beck lay in the bed even after she’d gone. She’d only just closed her eyes again when the yowl of the alarm clock sounded throughout the room, followed by an immediate and involuntary “son of a bitch” from the witch herself. She rolled over and smacked the button on the alarm before shuffling to the bathroom. She could have sworn from down the hall in the kitchen she heard Ros chuckling.

[verdigrisprowl]

Oct 25 Blurr’s Horror Stream - Monster AU - Halloweentown

The monster AU streams continue! Every time shadow Prowl tried to peek out from under/behind a couch something was either shining on him or batting at him so he stayed hidden the entire night. Which was sad, because a shadow monster was the villain and Prowl wanted to see more.

Welcome to the 'speedxstealer' room. The chat room has been cleared by the moderator. S p i r a: (( we're listening to my music ooc so just pretend it's something interesting lol )) Timeline: a small figure pokes their helm into the room "hello?" Timeline: ((lol)) Wing: (TINY SCREAM?!) Ravage: *The sulkiest sphinx returns. This time, however, they do not bother guarding the door. They simply brush the other being aside and turn into a tight loaf* Prowl: ((u say that like Good Vibrations isn't exciting)) Timeline: the small praxian goes into the room as well sitting on a couch Prowl: ((eyyyy timeline, tonight is Monster AU night. we're all playing monster versions of our characters. if u want u can make up a monster version of timeline real quick)) Timeline: (ah I didn't know that I have a demon verstion of timeline that eats sparks from deals so I can do that) Wing: ((oh... well then)) Prowl: ((they'll be in good company. last time everyone ate souls or whole people)) Timeline: ((that had to have been interesting)) Timeline: the  small demon stretches out humming lounging in her spot Bevel: ((Bevel only ate part of that guy and you can't prove it. Timeline: ((pft)) Ravage: *He'd be looking down his nose if he had one.* =What are YOU.= Timeline: ((my doxie is so cute ahh best doggo)) Timeline: "demon, what are you? a kitty cat?~" she asked snickering Ravage: =Sphinx.= *Haughty wing flick.* =I ask the questions here.= Timeline: "sure you do" the demon bobbed their helm to the music Ravage: *Such disrespect. How he misses the fear-soaked days of old sometimes.* Tarantulas changed their nickname to Tara. Timeline: "so if you are a sphinx, doesn't that mean you like riddles?" demons weren't known for respect Tara: (( what the heck LS... bevel and i are not the only two ppl here, i KNOW it Timeline: (hi) Bevel: ((LS plz Ravage: =I like telling them, yes.= S p i r a: / pardon the lights. They're going to flicker and dim down and brighten and flicker. And all the screens too.  / Timeline: the demon looks around "ghost? glitch? who knows" Timeline: (my demanding fur child is on my lap being demanding) Ravage: *Growls and tries to pull even more into himself. If he sees ONE fish bone...* S p i r a: / ghost it is, indeed. A very angry one/ Timeline: she snickered at the growling "oh come on whats the mood for?" S p i r a: / Just claws up from the ground. / Timeline: "now that is an entrence" S p i r a: [[ whenever yall are ready. Lemme know. ]] Tara: *what an awful time for the incubus to slink in, seems spira isn't in a terribly good mood* Prowl: *rides in on Tara's shadow* S p i r a: / growls at Timeline / What are YOU looking at? S p i r a: / hovers with smokey bits cascading off of him. / Timeline: "nothing much, not really catching my optic but nice entrence though" the demon tilts her helm S p i r a: Then look somewhere else before I throw glass in your eyes. /shoots straight up for his lamp and just morphs around it/ Ravage: *If there's going to be flying glass, he's going to move away from the demon and re-loaf.* Mindwipe: /just being a big dragon bat creature hanging upside down from the ceiling/ Timeline: she rolls her optics and looks away still lounging Mindwipe: Hey /waves a wing claw/ Prowl: *there are strangers here tonight. detaches from Tara's shadow to slide invisibly to join the shadows under a couch.* Ravage: *Opens his mouth to ask the dragon-bat a riddle before remembering he's not doing the host any favors tonight. Shuts it again.* Tara: *apparently has no sense of self preservation, goes straight for the lamp and curls a finger around one of spira's smoke tendrils* Timeline: time waves a clawed servo not really paying attention S p i r a: / glances at Ravage/ Not playing riddle me this, kitty kitty? What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? S p i r a: / twists tendril a little and glances at Tara / Hmm. Hi. /grump. Glances at Mindwipe/ ... / lifts claw to wave smokey-like / S p i r a: [[ Y'all ready? ]] Ravage: =Saving them for those who can appreciate them.= Pause. =Or meals.= Ravage: ((ya)) Prowl: ((ye)) S p i r a: Well, someone is still sour. /huffs / Tara: (( yep! Mindwipe: ((Yep!)) Timeline: (yep) S p i r a: [[ kay i set up ]] Mindwipe: Many interesting things in here I see... /He's trying to decide who would be the tastiest/ Timeline: "bet I can solve the riddle" S p i r a: [[ hi welcome to the surprise. ]] S p i r a: [[ we're watching some grade A classic shiit. ]] Bevel: ((omg omg omg Ravage: *Stares at the demon. ... Fine. Give him a moment to think.* Tara: (( omg ive never seen this Timeline: (awesome) Timeline: the demon goes silent watching the film S p i r a: / glancing down at Tara. Curious, but a moody ghost. / Prowl: *slinks to the front edge of the couch to peer out from underneath at the movie.* Bevel changed their nickname to Bevel. Mindwipe: ((good choice!)) S p i r a: / waves a little at Prowl / S p i r a: [[ I want that shirt, tbh. That yellow one. ]] Tara: *tries to tug one of the larger smoke tendrils, then licks it when spira's not looking, totally his way of saying hello* Ravage: =Ancient am I, always rushing but never going anywhere, roaring without throat or lungs.= Prowl: *... slinks out a shadowy little arm to wave back. it shrivels in the light.* Timeline changed their nickname to Timeline. S p i r a: / looks like one of those cartoons where the outlines get all squiggly and then settle back into flat lines / Timeline: (dog pressed keys closed out of the stream) Ravage: ((wb.)) Prowl: ((If she's 13 years old, this is her 14th halloween.)) Ravage: *Ravage cranes his head to try and get a glimpse of Bevel's palm.* Timeline: (yeah but movies aren't normally known for numbers) Bevel: *she spreads her hands out, nothing there* Fireball: -quite literally a fireball here. A will-o'-wisp to be exact- S p i r a: / the lick made him go squiggly. Glances at/ Yes, hello. Ravage: *Hm. Movies don't teach as much as they say they do, it seems.* Prowl: *... would think this is stereotyping of ghosts, but honestly hasn't met a ghost that isn't some shade of depressed.* Tara: *hums happily* It's lovely to see you again, Spira. Ravage: *And it seems the demon hasn't solved the riddle... but he'll leave them uneaten all the same. Sulfur tastes vile.* S p i r a: /exCUSE/ S p i r a: ... Good to see you, too. Fireball: -and in they bob, a bit late and all- Ravage: *Ravage eyes the fireball, tempted to chase it.* Tara: *tries to wrap arms around and scoop up as much of spira as possible* Come, cuddle, dear S p i r a: / shifts a little to better see the movie / Fireball: -don't you dare, sphinx, they'll lead you on a chase and a half- S p i r a: / do it. Chase them / Mindwipe: ... /reaches down to try and poke at Fireball/ Fireball: -bobs out of the way- Prowl: *floating light source. The Worst.* S p i r a: /shuffles down and settles next to Tara's chair. Watching Mindwipe and lookng for Prowl./ Do you need more shadows? Prowl: *shrinks farther under the couch.* Fireball: -oh? what was that? something under the couch? What is it?- Fireball: ((annnnd live chicken in the fridge Timeline: ( ia ma giggling) Fireball: ((wow kid Ravage: ((test)) Prowl: *there is Literally A Floating Source Of Light peering under the couch, Prowl is slinking back away from it.* Bevel: (( test test Bev: ((omg lag plz Bevel: (( teeeeeeeesssssssssssst Bev: ((*pokes ls hard in the face* Prowl: *perks up. shadow creature? there are shadow creatures in the movie?* Timeline: (test) Ravage: *Ravage slinks toward the couch and prepares to bat the fireball* Fireball: -something is moving under the couch, they can see it- Fireball: -and paying no attention to approching sphinx- Prowl: *the moving something under the couch looks like slightly darker darkness* Fireball: ((ls can you not Ravage: *WHACK and possibly a yowl if the fireball is actually hot.* Mindwipe changed their nickname to Mindwipe. Prowl: *although the will-o-wisp probably won't get a good look at it; shadows don't last in direct light.* Fireball: -IS actually mildly hot, and now rolling off along the floor and really NOT happy about it- Ravage: *smacks his paw a few times on the ground to put out any singed bits and curls up to lick it* Prowl: *bolts out from under the couch and hides in a shadow along the back of the couch* Fireball: -is now more of an angry red color, as they bob back up into the air- Prowl: ((i love the cheap glitter on top)) Fireball: ((looks like something from the dollar store Timeline: (i love this) E x s p i r a v i t: [[ any fuccking way. ]] Ravage: *Climbs up the couch and peers over the back. Is the shadow all right there?* Prowl: ((welcome back)) E x s p i r a v i t: [[ Three browsers and it posts on this crappy one. ]] Bevel: (( is my name still bevel :') Bevel: (( omfg Ravage: ((yep)) Fireball: ((LS you piece of craaaaap Mindwipe: ((Livestream whyyyy)) E x s p i r a v i t: / sulking on the floor. A smokey puddle / Timeline: (my interwebs is ccrapping out ahhh) Prowl: *shadowy silhouette peeks up over the back of the couch to watch* Mindwipe: /reaches down to poke at Prowl now/ Prowl: *ducks back down behind the couch.* Fireball: -oh. Was that who was under the couch?- E x s p i r a v i t: [[ i love this guy ]] Ravage: *Swats the poking claw from the dragon bat* Mindwipe: /dangling both wing arms and grinning, trying to reach Prowl, he's having fun here/ Prowl: *welp. hiding behind the couch for the rest of the night it is, then.* Mindwipe: Hello kitty! /turns his attention to Ravage now/ Bevel changed their nickname to livestream is a turd. Fireball: -bobs further up into the air- livestream is a turd: (( heh did it fix my name now Ravage: ((sorta)) Bev: ((yes, hello, livestream is a turd Mindwipe: ((LOL it did)) Ravage: *Ravage hisses and compresses himself into the couch. Try to stop one of the guests from being shrivelled up and get burned and poked for your troubles. Tsk.* Ravage: *One of these days he's going to find a nice warm desert and just stay there.* Prowl: *... wonders what's happening in the movie.* Fireball: -hey, they didn't know they were hurting a guest. It was an accident- E x s p i r a v i t: / groans like a ghost does / Is this a /love/ story? livestream is a turd changed their nickname to IncuTara. Prowl: ((ive never seen this before but the mayor is definitely the villain)) E x s p i r a v i t: [[ omg you've never seen halloweentown?? ]] Prowl: ((no)) E x s p i r a v i t: [ THIS MOVIE MADE My CHILDHOOD COMPLETE ]] E x s p i r a v i t: [[ sort of. Like the kim possible movie. ]] E x s p i r a v i t: [[ this movie is so derpy and campy, but i love it. ]] Mindwipe: ((It's like the definition of campy, but it's such a childhood classic, like Hocus Pocus!)) Timeline: (interwebs crapping out to much gonna head) Fireball: ((g'night then? Prowl: ((Are we supposed to detest the mother with every fiber of our being?)) IncuTara: (( the weiner dude... Fireball: ((don't know if we are, but I kinda do E x s p i r a v i t: [[ I dislike her for the moment ]] E x s p i r a v i t: [[ i like miss reynolds better ]] Ravage: ((Don't know if we're supposed to but - yeah)) Fireball: -bouncing bob, what is this on screen?- IncuTara: *nevermind tara, he'd stepped out of the room for a moment but slips back in now and sprawls near spira* Prowl: ((the fvck gives her the right to deliberately cut off her children from one of their potential futures just because she herself prefers a certain culture)) Prowl: ((especially when one of said children has been desperate to be part of that culture)) Prowl: ((screw this mom)) E x s p i r a v i t: / sprawls out like a puddle of smoke by Tara / Fireball: ((whoops Fireball: ((LS STOP THAT IncuTara: *can smoke be cuddled, tara's gonna try* Prowl: *hears talk about shadow things and can't even watch.* E x s p i r a v i t: */ E x s p i r a v i t: / it can be sort of . IncuTara: *tryna make up for leaving spira behind last time* Prowl: *well. stretches out along the shadow on the back of the couch and tries to get comfortable.* Fireball: -they're now impersonating a light fixture on the ceiling- E x s p i r a v i t: / huffs a little / Mindwipe: /watching the movie/ Humans do such strange things... E x s p i r a v i t: / wrapping smoke tendrils around Tara's arm / Prowl: *... the light shining from the bottom of the couch is gone. sinks back down and underneath.* E x s p i r a v i t: [[ i love this ghost ]] Prowl: *wonders why they didn't just ask for some sweat. they're probably used to helping with spells around town.* Fireball: ((that still looked black as hell Fireball: -mildy excited bobbing again, up by the ceiling- E x s p i r a v i t: / coiling his own smoke tendrils around a claw / Fireball: -what's that, what's that?- Prowl: *ooh. a shadow thing that carries his own shadows around. and corporeal in partial light, too.* Fireball: -oh, a trick! And no treats- Prowl: *brr. never wants to see one of those things in person.* E x s p i r a v i t: That must be a nice town. Fireball: -that was bright! Brighter than them!- Mindwipe: I want to live in the spooky theater... Good place to catch a snack E x s p i r a v i t: That theater looked nice. Fireball: -oh wow! What was that?- Prowl: (("i'm sorry i didn't trust you" fvcker this has nothing to do with trust you chose to cut her off from half her life when she was born)) Fireball: ((and now she choses to change her tune E x s p i r a v i t: I want to live there. /coils up from the ground / E x s p i r a v i t: Seems nice. Prowl: (("oh yeah I forcibly refused to let you even KNOW you could be a witch and cut you off from every opportunity to learn it, but now i'm reserving exclusive privileges to train you as one")) Ravage: =Nothing to eat there.= Ravage: *Streeeeetch.* E x s p i r a v i t: There's nothing to eat HERE, either. Prowl: ((like fvck off you don't deserve that right, let the grandma who was endlessly supportive and wanted to teach her grandkids about the world do it)) Ravage: =You're right.= Prowl: ((like she doesn't even have good justification for cutting off her kids from that world.)) Ravage: *So he'll hop off the couch, shake himself out, and slowly limp toward the exit.* Fireball: -and drops back to the floor. Movie's over- Prowl: ((no "it's too dangerous" or anything. just "meh. *I* like being normal, so I'm never even gonna present them with the option to be otherwise, even if they want it.")) Prowl: *trusts the sphinx not to bat prowl around like a toy. latches onto his shadow to ride out.* E x s p i r a v i t: / swirls up from the ground / Ravage: *Not after the first night. He'll shiver a little, probably won't figure out the shadow is there right away, but will welcome the tagalong once they're noticed.* E x s p i r a v i t: Try not to eat anything on the way out. Fireball: -and zips out of the room. Movie was funny but time to go now. Bye!- E x s p i r a v i t: [[ well idk who is still heere because the stupid chat won't tell me]] Fireball: ((well, I'm heading off, so g'night!

[ilovelocust]

Mirror Mirror V.2 (Part 6)

Note: Forgot there were multiple places in this story, where I just said things happen instead of describing because I got tired of writing. I’ll be doing my best to fill the more important parts with actual scenes. That does mean some things are going to get more graphic with this rewrite. Some very bad things happen to Shiro in this story. I’ll be putting warnings before those chapters for things that deviate from just the normal torture.

Warning: Sexual Assault

<< First < Prev.

A brush of fingertips wandering down his chest. Softly tracing the bare edge of a bruise. Shiro snorts into his pillow, no not a pillow, clothing? Keith. He snorts into his Keith. It’s too early. He’s too tired for this sort of fun. He curls up closer to the other warm body, trying to fall back to sleep.

“Takashi, wake up I’m bored,” Keith whines, poking him in the stomach. Nyhhh, words are too much effort right now, Shiro shakes his head and grumbles. Keith huffs at him. Ah, cute little annoyed kitten Keith. Shiro smiles.

Keith moves out from under him. Dropping his head to the mattress. He mourns the loss of his bed partner, but not enough to open his eyes and chase after him. “You’re lucky I like you,” Keith’s fond voice drifts from above. The bed dip beside him, “I wouldn’t put up with this behavior from anyone else.”

Keith shoves his shoulder and Shiro rolls over on his back. Demanding this morning. Not that he can complain to much, because Keith’s warm body is crawling on top of his and Keith’s soft lips are pressing against his own. He opens up for the languid kiss. Letting Keith’s greedy tongue explore. He lifts his flesh hand, running across his lover until he can rest it on Keith’s sharp hip, squeezing encouragingly. Maybe he’s up to a round of fun after all.

Shiro smiles as Keith pulls back, letting his eyes flutter open. Keith is beautiful above him, naughty smirk on perfect lips. Dark hair framing an angelic face…The ceiling is dark metal…This isn’t their bedroom. No! This isn’t his Keith. Shiro shoves his captor off. Keith falls sprawling to floor, looking up at him in shock, “How could you?” Shiro is bordering on a shout, shoving himself up to face the man that would take advantage. He’s not tired anymore, “What is wrong with you!”

Keith’s shock morphs to anger, “How dare you!” Keith snarls and lunges at him. Shiro is still one arm down, but Keith is smaller than himself and he’s not flat on his back this time. Keith jabs him hard in one of his bandaged wounds, but he has experience fighting through pain. He throws his captor off the bed. Keith tumbles, coming up on his feet to face Shiro, teeth bared in rage.

“Guards!” Keith yells. The door whooshes open, the guards from before charge in, guns raised. Shiro scrambles off the bed, preparing to meet the new threat. He forgets about Keith. His mistake. Something hard collides with his skull. Shiro crashes to his knees. Keith watches, holding a table lamp, as the guards finish the job. Cracking Shiro’s skull against the floor and wrenching his arm painfully behind his back.

“Take him back to his cell,” Keith orders. The guards haul him off the ground. He’s not given a chance to comply. Rough hands grab his hair and twist his arm until it threatens to come out of socket, “You don’t get to reject me.” Keith sneers, as Shiro is dragged from the room.

.

Keith doesn’t forgive easily. He makes Shiro pay for his rejection with strips of his hide, quite literally at times. He loses half his finger nails in the first ‘day’ of Keith’s wrath. Becomes intimately familiar with the smell of his own burning flesh in the second. The fleeting kindness of his meals is gone. A sentry bot feeds him now, and if he doesn’t eat fast enough, well then he doesn’t need all that food after all. The flames of Keith’s anger aren’t even abating with Shiro’s screams. The longer he’s held here, the more they build. His torture quickly leaving the realms of scarring and painful to potentially crippling.

Keith’s burned most the hair from his leg. His lighter teasing along the side just close enough to bubble in spots before pulling away. Shiro’s crying, he doesn’t know for how long. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. A hand wraps around his calf, fingers digging into a weeping sore. Shiro’s yowl is more of croak coming from his abraded throat. His foot is being lift, fires tendrils held under the pad of his foot. No, god no, “Please,” Shiro sobs. He can’t, he can’t lose his ability to walk too, “Please, don’t,” Some vague line of body autonomy with worth being crippled for the rest of his life. His pride isn’t worth this, “I’ll do anything. Just please don’t,” Keith can fuck him for all he cares. He just needs this to stop.

His captor cocks his head to the side looking up at Shiro, but keeping the flame where it is. Close enough that the heat builds and his sole is beginning to burn. He can’t pull away, can’t save himself, “Have you learned your lesson?” Keith asks.

“Yes,” Shiro nods desperately, “Please, I’m sorry.” He’d say anything his captor wants to hear if it will get him to stop.

Keith smiles and turns off the lighter. Climbs up into Shiro’s lap, running his fingers down the burns and cuts littering his torso. He leans in capturing his lips as he dig a nail into one of Shiro’s many open wounds. It hurts, but Shiro kisses him back.

-

Two more day, two more days of Keith’s meal deliveries being his only contact with the rest of the castle, before his mind finally settles enough that he can venture from his room. He doesn’t go to his team immediately. Ask the Castle where the other residents are and then avoids them. Giving himself time to re-familiarize himself with the normal places, kitchen, training room, bridge. All he is allowed to enter and leave as he pleases. No guards, no watching eyes. He’s home, safe, and ready.

Everyone is gathered in the common room, including Slav? When did he become a regular resident of the Castle? Lance spots Shiro hovering in the door, “Shiro!” He shouts, scrambling over the couch to wrap his arms around his leader in a hug. The whole room holds their breath, anticipation for a bad reaction. Had Keith told them about his current bout of anti-social behavior? Shiro embraces Lance back, and the tension evaporates as the everyone explodes in excitement. Pidge and Hunk run forward to join the hug, then Keith, and even Coran and Allura join in. Squeezing all the paladins half to death in their eagerness.

“It’s good to have you back man!” Hunk laughs.

“It’s good to be back,” Shiro responds, and he doesn’t have to force the smile. He missed them all terribly.

“You had us worried with that disappearing act,” Pidge says from where she’s squished between Keith and Allura. He can imagine. The team wouldn’t have taken well to their leader simply vanishing after the battle of the century, “Still don’t know how you pulled off dimensional travel.” She adds.

That stops him, “Dimensional travel?” Shiro says stupidly. What?

“You didn’t know?” Pidge says. Everyone seems to sense this might be the sort of conversation you don’t have while pinning someone, and the group lets go, giving him a bit of space.

Lance looks put out though, “Damn, guess that means you didn’t go to the evil goatee universe then,” Lance says. When Shiro continues giving his dumb look, Lance clarifies, “Like on Star Trek you know. Evil mirror universe, everyone has goatees to show how evil they are?”

“Only Spock had a goatee in that episode,” Hunk says. Lance scowls at his correction.

“Doesn’t matter, I had a bet with Pidge riding on that. Now I’m stuck with her shift for Slav’s assistant.” Lance moans, then switches his attention back to Shiro, “So if not evil goatee universe, where did you go? Was it a universe where everyone was a hot amazon. I bet it was a universe where everyone was a hot amazon.” His mood makes a 360 as he quiet obviously starts daydreaming about a universe filled with beautiful women.

Shiro leaves him to dream, and addresses Pidge instead, “You don’t know where I went?” He asks. How could they rescue him and not know where he’d been?

Keith is the one to answer, “Slav tracked your signature down, but it was just numbers on a screen. We couldn’t see what was there…We weren’t even sure you were alive.” Keith’s first words since he entered the room. Tone saying too much, Keith had been spending sleepless nights thinking him dead. He should be giving comfort, he’s alive after all, but.

“Oh,” An alternate universe, “That makes sense.” Then Keith, wasn’t Keith after all, but was Keith too.

There’s a hand touching his arm. He looks at it a second before he realizes it’s attached to the Red Paladin. He doesn’t shrug him off, “Are you okay?” Keith asks. No longer preoccupied with his own remembered pain, when he has Shiro to be concerned for.

“I’m fine.” He says. Are the words even a lie? He doesn’t know, “I think, I’m going to go look around the Castle a bit. See what you all have been up to while I was gone.” Get enough space to process without everyone examining his every expression. Keith doesn’t look convinced but lets him go.

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