#I'll drop the masterpost later today

[cerealforkart]

The finale for my Taylor as decapitated anime characters challenge after two whole months, it was always going to end here, with Meryl Streep!

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [Bonus] [Finale]

Bonus under the cut

They have to write an essay on a noteworthy family member or smth

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #taylor swift dndads #doodly #I've been waiting to do this one since I did Mami #I'll drop the masterpost later today #hermie the unworthy

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in Your Area 8

Chapter 8

Masterpost

“You're just now going to campus?” Jazz said. Danny scowled ahead at the sidewalk. Her tone wasn't judgmental so much as mildly surprised. He still hated it. “That's a lot later than usual. Is everything alright?” Danny hunched his shoulders up and consciously reminded himself not to get defensive. He wasn't slacking. He'd gotten home after his class and slept 13 hours. He still felt wiped out.

“Ghost stuff,” he said cryptically. “Ruined my night.” He dodged someone on the sidewalk without thinking about it, used to the crowds by now.

Jazz inhaled sharply into his ear. “They're supposed to leave you alone to focus on your education,” she hissed. “Just so you know, I do have the venomous Fenton electric creep stick-”

“Yeah, I know,” Danny cut her off. She was probably holding it up right now, thumb on the trigger. He couldn't fight off the rueful smile. She had his back, didn't she? Always did. With that in mind… “I think I need help,” he admitted. Oof. Felt bad. Not as bad as failing his classes, though, which was the danger if he got pulled too deep into more Ghost bull honkey.

“Of course!” Jazz enthused. He stepped off the curb and then quick-stepped backwards to avoid getting hit by some asshole running the red light. Danny lifted up his free hand to flip them off as he hung on his heels on the edge of the pavement drop. He dropped lightly back onto the balls of his feet and jogged across the street.

Jazz was still talking, voice clear over the morning meld of honking and running engines. “How about you come over to my place after your classes tonight? My roommate is out for a conference.”

“You just don't want to come to Crime Alley,” Danny accused her. “Even for me, your beloved baby brother.” He dodged a car that was parked on the cross walk and made an ugly face at the driver. “Despite your professed love for crime, when it counts, it's all talk.”

“I don't love crime,” Jazz reiterated with her inhuman patience. She didn't take the bait of his deliberate mischaracterization of her career plans. “But I am exquisitely stabbable." Her tone went lofty with the brag. "So yes, I avoid Crime Alley.”

Danny blew an unimpressed raspberry to show what he thought of that.

He hadn't met anyone in Gotham yet who he thought would really throw Jazz for a loop. She was a 6ft 2 judo black belt, and she was liminally spooky as fuck. “No one would stab you,” he said, making it sound like an insult. His janky ass was more likely to get held up. "But fine, I'll haul my poor broken corpse all the way over there to do you a favor-”

“So I can do you a favor,” Jazz corrected wryly.

“My poor broken corpse,” Danny cut back in, because that was a really relevant factor to him. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and swooned a little. He felt like he'd been in a tumble dryer. Missing a full night of sleep was an insufferable insult to his desperate shoe-string construction of a healthy routine.

“I would so get robbed if I came there,” Jazz argued. “Maybe even kidnapped.” He could all but hear her flip her hair.

He snorted but let her keep her delicate feminine delusions about not being one of the scariest motherfuckers in the crime capital of the country. He wasn't actually worried about her interning at Arkham Asylum. Maybe he'd freaked out a little when she'd moved here, but that wasn't why he was here. No matter what anyone said.

“There's no immediate danger, right?” Jazz checked. “No reason I need to be concerned today?”

“Nah,” Danny reassured her, as the campus came into sight. He had about an hour before class to spend in the lab before his lecture. “It's not that kind of problem.” He felt his face arranged itself into a wry smile. “You might like this one.”

“Oh?” Jazz asked, intrigued. “Do tell.”

“Only after I've sworn you to perfect silence,” Danny shot back instantly. “I mean it, for real, you can't tell a soul living or dead or nonliving or-”

“I think I get it,” she cut him off. Jazz huffed. “As if I can't keep a secret. You think I can't keep secrets? I know the most incredible things that you could never dream up.”

“...Big if true,” Danny snarked, pretending that he wasn't extremely interested.

“You never knew what happened to the Robinsons,” Jazz said airily. “And you never will.”

“...that doesn't bother me at all,” Danny lied. He stopped walking.

“Ahuh,” Jazz said knowingly. “Hey, remember the neon cheese incident?”

Danny gritted his teeth. “Can't say I do,” he said. It was bullshit, and even he knew it wasn't convincing Jazz. He was dying to know the truth. It had been the talk of the town for weeks and was still occasionally featured on unsolved mystery podcasts. He'd gone far enough to ask the Dairy King, but even the dead wouldn't speak on it.

“Have a good day of classes, little brother,” Jazz said sweetly. She ended the call.

He rubbed at his temples. Ancients, she gave him a headache. She was fantastic. She was killing him and absolutely ruining his unlife. He couldn't even beg her for answers about the neon cheese, because if he managed to badger it out of her, it would prove she could be manipulated into telling secrets. That would be a loss anyway. It was more likely that either she didn't know anything or that she knew and her lips would stay sealed: Danny didn't have any to waste his breath.

He did a few calming rounds of breathing, now that he was thinking about it, and then went on with his day a bit invigorated by the familial aggravation.

Danny felt a little better about focusing on class now that he knew he could count on Jazz in his corner. She was the smartest person he knew. She could probably get him divorced by the end of the day. Hell, she probably already had a contingency plan for getting him a divorce. She was so ready for him to have a relationship so that he would have relationship problems to ask her about.

When he finished up on campus, Danny cut across town to pick up takeout food as an offering. He presented it to Jazz as soon as she opened the door, head bowed and food theatrically high.

“Oh, come in,” Jazz said, exasperated. She grabbed him by the back of his collar and bodily pulled him inside. “My neighbors are going to think I'm so weird, Danny!”

“My liege,” he intoned seriously. “I come bearing- ow! Stop hitting my- hey, my face!” Danny wrestled away from the horrible pinching grip his terrible sister had on his cheeks, scowling. “That hurt,” he complained. “Have you ever thought that you're getting caught up in the cycle of violence?”

“I don't lose sleep over it.” Jazz lowered herself delicately onto one of the weird puffs she had instead of chairs and made grabby hands at the takeout. “What did you get me?”

“Coal,” Danny snarked. But he handed over the bag without a fight and plopped himself onto the closest poof thing. He fully laid out and let his head flop past the edge to hang upside down.

“Inversion therapy, so chic,” Jazz said absently.

He considered flipping her off, but his balance was really off in this position and it would be hard to defend himself if she lunged at him. Hell, if she picked up his legs he'd probably tip over onto the floor. Danny dug his heels into the side of the poof in defensive preparation. He kept her in his peripheral vision.

“Oh, Malaysian,” Jazz enthused. “I wanted to have this!” She sounded a little too surprised.

He shot her a thumbs up. Two days ago, she'd sent him a screenshot of a text landing from someone else that had shown most of her screen was the active map app she was using to get to an appointment. The Malaysian restaurant had the star mark that she put on the places that she wanted to try.

He'd gambled that she hadn't gone yet because she hadn't had a late night at work. Jazz only got takeout with company or if she got home too late to cook.

“Cool,” Danny said, because he didn't want his rotten sister to think he cared about her interests. “It was on the way and it smelled good.”

Jazz hummed and put the food on the side table. “So I see.” She folded her fingers in front of her face and peered at him over the steeple. “What happened? What ghost do I need to soup with a fragrant combination of turmeric and saffron?”

“Please don't waste that, ghosts taste fine on their own,” Danny said.

Jazz grimaced. “Ew, Danny,” she enunciated carefully. She paused. “Ew.”

He shrugged and accidentally slipped a little closer to the floor. “Just saying. But actually, no one dead was involved, unless we count-”

“We don't count,” Jazz cut him off, serenely unbothered by his attempts to score empathy points off his death. She was a cold customer.

“Boo,” Danny said, because he knew his brand and respected ghost tradition. “Anyway, Jeremy Waters. Remember -”

“How could I forget,” Jazz muttered. She put her hands on her face.

“Hey,” Danny said, offended that Jeremy got that reaction and he got a big fat impassive nothing no matter how annoying he was.

“What’s Jeremy done?” Jazz sounded exhausted by the concept.

“Well… He uh.” Danny stared at the ceiling. He couldn't look at her directly. “Well. You know how he wants the good favor of the god of the underworld?”

“Yup.” Jazz hit the ‘p’ sound hard.

“He uh, hit the idea that uh. Maybe a Persephone of sorts was just the thing to suck up.”

He heard fabric rustle as Jazz sat up. “He did?”

Wow, she had one of the most fascinating ceilings in the world. Danny stared intently up at a splotch that looked vaguely malign. She ought to get that checked out by an expert before it possessed somebody. “Yeah, so he's been trying to vault people into the Ghost Zone as bridal sacrifices.”

“Ahuh.” Jazz sounded a little bit choked up. She wasn't laughing, so he couldn't complain.

“I had Dani get Vlad look into it-” because Dad or Mom would have been mortifying- “and apparently, he told her the odds of some hack wizard managing to send a living human to the ghost zone was laughable.”

He paused. He couldn't go on.

“And Vlad would know,” Jazz said leadingly.

Danny put a hand over his face. “Yeah, see, the thing is that I'm now very concerned that Vlad might not know.” His words came out muffled.

Jazz was so intent on him. He pretended even harder not to know she was leaning in towards him. “Does- does the ghost king have a bride, Danny?” She somehow managed in a professional tone.

He nodded miserably.

She promptly lost her shit laughing at his misfortune.

#red hot ghouls #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #dc fanfic

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Today's @wolfstarmicrofic prompt is slide and MY FAVES ARE BACK

Here's some hippie Remus x scientist Sirius for the sake of my mental health

I also haven't yet introduced y'all to a part of this AU that I write about in my notes a LOT (this is after the very first one)

Masterpost here xoxo

(450 words.)

"I think I gave your security guard a heart attack earlier. Fenwick, was it?" Remus said calmly, his arm around Sirius and his fingers raking gently through Sirius' hair as they sat on the sofa.

"Who, Benjy? Yeah, probably." Sirius answered with a laugh, missing Remus' slight frown, a crease forming in between his eyebrows.

"Are you the only one who calls him Benjy?" He asked, mild curiosity laced in his voice, but Sirius could read Remus like a book, he could feel the slight hostility in his tone. He had picked up on something that Sirius hadn't.

"Uh, I think so? He asked me to. How come?"

"Just wondering." He hummed casually, Sirius resting his head on Remus' shoulder.

The next morning, he was just getting his stuff together when Remus walked over to him. He offered him a smile, shoving a book into his bag.

"Hey, want me to drop you off at work today?" Remus asked.

"Always do." He agreed immediately.

"Great. Lily's got some new crystals in, I'll pick something up for you."

"Thanks, darling." Sirius had a feeling that he was going to end up wearing some sort of crystal jewellery to work. Remus had been hinting at it for a while, and Sirius couldn't say no to him. Ever.

Still, he wasn't going to complain when it meant he had Remus on the commute to the lab. He drove in a comfortable silence, walking him into the building and glancing quickly at Benjy.

"See you later, love." With that, he kissed him. Not just some quick goodbye, like he usually would. It was the type of kiss that Sirius could just trip and fall into, almost couldn't help himself. He felt Remus' hand slide up the side of his neck to rest on his cheek, the other snaking around his waist, and Sirius vaguely remembered that Benjy was there and watching, they had an audience, but he really couldn't bring himself to care, Remus drew all of his focus, his attention, and he barely even had to try to get it. It was his, always had been.

Eventually, after what definitely wasn't long enough for Sirius but was probably much too long for Benjy, he pulled away, smiling at an insanely dazed Sirius.

"Bye." Remus said, turning and leaving.

"Bye." Sirius said back softly, before turning and trying to offer Benjy a smile, to get his own brain back after it had promptly short circuited. "Hi, Benjy."

"Hello." Benjy wasn't quite meeting his eyes, as Sirius walked past, trying to make sure he was actually going to be able to work, without his mind being on Remus all day.

Well, more than normal, anyway.

#UGH i love them #remus isn't jealous he's just making sure benjy understands #they're literally soulmates i can't- #remus definitely checked benjy's star sign to make sure they didn't align #and they didn't #wolfstar #sirius black #marauders #wolfstar oneshot #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

[broodybuck]

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room | Series Part 3

Series Summary: At a strip club, Steve figures out one of the dancers is homeless. He offers him the guest room in his home along with anything else he wants. He offers to take care of Bucky. Even though Bucky can't understand why.

Series Tags: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Rated E | Tags: 18+ explicit smut, sugar daddy Steve Rogers, stripper Bucky Barnes, age difference, no powers AU, daddy kink, dom Steve Rogers, sub Bucky Barnes

[Masterpost] // [ao3 link]

[PART 1] [PART 2]

Bucky hasn't enjoyed waking up in someone's arms in forever. He used to feel suffocated by the men who would hold him at night. Somehow, Steve's arms feel a lot nicer.

He feels Steve untangle himself and press a soft kiss into his hair. It must be early, there's barely any light in the room. Steve removes himself from the bed. When the bathroom door closes, Bucky checks the time and sees it's almost six in the morning. He falls back asleep after that.

He ventures downstairs a few hours later and finds Steve sipping coffee on the couch while reading the newspaper. Bucky walks over and sits next to him.

He doesn't fit himself into Steve's arms, he's not sure if he's just allowed to now. So he pretends to be busy on his phone but he's aimlessly scrolling just waiting for some attention.

Steve lowers the newspaper, puts his mug down on the coffee table, and folds the paper in half twice. Bucky places his phone on the coffee table as well then meets Steve's eyes.

"Good morning," Steve smiles.

Before Bucky can even return a word, a buzz sounds. Bucky's phone lights up from the coffee table with the caller, "Strip Club".

Shit.

They watch the call continue to buzz in a tense beat of silence.

"I thought you quit?" Steve's staring at the phone too.

Bucky's stomach drops.

The club has been calling every day now wondering if he's well enough to come back in. They're low on dancers, they're always low. Bucky's been avoiding their calls, avoiding the inevitable.

"You didn't quit, did you?" Steve accuses.

Bucky's face goes hot.

"I was getting to it but..."

"Quit today or you won't be allowed to stay here," Steve demands, crossing his arms. "It's what we agreed."

"Okay," Bucky agrees quietly.

"I want to hear the call."

"What?"

"I can't have you lying to me, Bucky. Call them in front of me or move out."

"Okay, okay. I'll call right now."

Bucky picks up his phone and calls the club back. His face burns with Steve's gaze piercing into the side of his face.

Bucky stammers through the call, telling his former boss he found something else, he's quitting. his boss tries to reason with him, offer him a little more money, some better stage times, but Bucky refuses.

He hangs up the phone and keeps his eyes trained down. Steve's still staring at him.

"I wish you wouldn't have lied to me."

"Technically, you never asked," Bucky murmurs. He peaks over. Steve's glare only hardens. "Sorry."

Steve sighs and looks forward.

"Please don't kick me out yet, I can make it up to you."

"No," Steve puts a hand up. "You don't owe me anything, Bucky. Do you get that? This arrangement isn't meant to put you in debt to me."

"I know, right... sorry."

"You just need to promise me you won't lie — or omit anything else. If you're not happy here or not comfortable with something, you have to tell me or this doesn't work."

"I will, I promise."

Steve takes a long breath in and then nods.

Bucky lets out his first breath of relief.

"Alright. If we're moving forward then there's something I'd like to discuss."

"Okay," Bucky says worriedly.

"Now that we've agreed to a sexual relationship, I would prefer you not see anyone else."

"Like to fuck?" Bucky asks. Steve's eyes narrow at his language. "Sorry."

"Yes, I'd prefer it if no one else touches you but me."

The possessiveness makes Bucky want to shudder. He nods a bit dumbly.

"Good. And I won't be seeing anyone else either," Steve assures him.

"Cool," Bucky says a second before it hits him, "so, does that mean we can fu—have sex now?"

Steve's expression remains calm as the tiniest smile stretches on his face.

"Yes, we can."

Bucky stands but halts confused when Steve doesn't make a move.

"Go to the master bedroom, undress, and wait for me on the bed."

Bucky nods and half stumbles out of the living room.

Bucky's lying on Steve's bed, naked, waiting for Steve. When he hears the door open, his skin shivers in excitement.

Steve does the same routine of taking his sweet time with each step to the bed. This man has all the patience in the world, Bucky's decided, and he hates that.

Steve's weight makes the bed dip, he leans over Bucky and softly brushes his hair out of his face. Bucky's eyes flutter shut a moment.

"I like you like this."

"Naked?" Bucky huffs.

"Compliant," Steve corrects.

It makes Bucky swallow a hard lump in his throat.

"Well, I—"

"You don't need to talk back," Steve cuts him off. It makes Bucky blush hard for some reason. His cock twitches too.

Steve notices the movement and peers down his body.

"Eager, are we?" Steve comments.

"Uh-huh."

"I think we're forgetting something," Steve caresses his face with a fond smile. Bucky has no clue what he's forgetting. "It's okay, I'll forgive it this time but in the future, I'd like you to address me properly."

"Oh... um, right. Sorry... daddy," Bucky murmurs, feeling embarrassed the first time he says it.

It's a weird thing to be shy about because Bucky's had men make the request before. He's actually uttered "daddy" in bed more times than he can remember. But for some reason, this feels different with Steve. It feels real and like it matters. He wants Steve to take charge, to take care of him — he can't explain it, but Steve is his daddy. Not like those other men who tried to claim it.

"Good boy."

Steve's deep tone pulls Bucky back from his thoughts and he keens from the praise again.

"Do you want me to touch you now?"

"Obviou—" Bucky stops the snarky remark coming out of his mouth. "Yes, daddy."

Steve snaps back to him with a pleased smile. For that, he rewards Bucky with a kiss. It's slow and sensual. Nothing like the kiss from last night. They're both good, Bucky thinks as Steve pulls away.

"You're learning," Steve smiles. "What a good boy."

Bucky shudders from it this time.

"You like that one," Steve whispers as his hand cups Bucky's balls then slides up the shaft and rolls his palm around the head.

Bucky arches up off the bed, moaning low. Steve takes his hand away and trails his fingers up and down Bucky's thighs as Bucky lowers himself back down.

He huffs out a breath watching Steve trace his skin, waiting for more.

Steve takes his time. Bucky's already catching on that this will be a definite thing when they fuck from now on. If it wasn't so thrilling, he'd be more mad.

He kinda sees the hype, it's like the waiting and teasing makes the orgasm all the more worth it in the end.

Of course, Bucky starts to rethink that after Steve's takes half an hour to open him up.

"Steve— I mean..." Bucky huffs. His face is red, skin beaded in sweat. "Daddy — please, I'm ready."

"Hhm," Steve considers like he's not sure. He keeps pumping three fingers into him, hitting that sweet spot then not hitting it. God, it's infuriating — it's glorious.

Finally, Steve decides it's time and pulls his fingers free. He coats his cock with more lube and for a good half a minute he kneels in front of Bucky stroking his own cock, just looking at him like he's taunting him with it. Is he going to fuck him or not.

Bucky bites his lip, it shouldn't be doing so much for him, he should be beyond fed up by now but he's not.

Steve inches closer, prodding at his hole with the head of cock. He's leaking precum. At least, it's nice to know he's been having to hold back too.

Steve spreads a palm over Bucky's stomach, rubs it around with a glint in his eye.

Bucky wants to plead again but he's already trying not to do that so much, he swears he's begged ten times already.

His patience gets rewarded with Steve's cock and when he pushes all the way in, god it's so fucking worth it. Bucky's mind blurs from being filled.

Steve leans down to kiss him, not moving.

"How's that feel, darlin?" Steve asks.

Bucky nods, eyes fluttering closed.

"Good... good, daddy."

Steve kisses him once more then pulls back and thrusts forward one time, fast and hard.

"Fuck— oh, sorry, —shit. I didn't mean to curse... I swear," Bucky babbles.

"It's alright, honey. I'll let it slide when I have my cock inside you, I know how much you can feel this," Steve says. He circles his hips then draws them back and slams into him again.

"Fuck — sorry."

"You can curse in the bedroom," Steve allows.

"Thank god— oh!"

Steve begins a steady motion of fucking him. When he hits his prostate Bucky lets out a broken gasp, his eyes wide. Steve does it again, harder.

"Right there, daddy," Bucky whines. He's never said that in the bedroom before. He grabs onto Steve as the older man keeps repeating the motion. Then his thrust becomes fluid and fast, his cock seamlessly pounding pleasure through him with every thrust.

Bucky whines, holding him tighter, closing his eyes.

Steve starts pressing wet kisses up to his jaw.

"I'm so glad you wanted this, honey," Steve husks in Bucky's ear. "Been getting myself off to the thought of you all this time."

Bucky moans in response, his breathing more unsteady than before.

"This feels right," Steve continues. "You were made to take me, darlin'. I fit inside you perfectly."

Steve slows down to make each stroke longer and deeper. Bucky whines again, his legs curling tighter around Steve's waist as he keeps taking his cock.

"Don't you think so, sweetheart?" Steve whispers and picks the pace back up, fucking him harder again.

Bucky nods, he's so close, it's hard to get any words out.

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck. Meant... for you," Bucky answers in a haze. He's about to come, he knows he is.

Steve must know it too because he takes a hold of Bucky's cock and starts rubbing under the head, leans down and swallows the moans that fall out of his mouth in a filthy kiss. Bucky comes all over Steve's fingers.

Steve keeps fucking him through it. Right when it's starting to be too much, Steve pulls back with a low groan.

"God, been waiting to come in this sweet ass since the first moment I saw you."

Bucky arches back and whines.

"Come in me, daddy," Bucky pleads.

Steve must like that because his next few thrusts feel erratic and hard. He groans loudly until his hips stop short and Bucky feels a hot rush inside him. Feels Steve's thick cock pulsing with every spurt until he's done.

Steve's chest heaves over him, he sits inside him for a moment. Then like a light switch, he's pulling out, scooping Bucky up into his arms, and swaddling Bucky into his chest.

"How was that?" Steve asks.

Bucky huffs out an incredulous laugh. He's going to have to answer this every time, he realizes.

"Perfect, daddy."

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfiction #stucky series #stucky smut #series part 3

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

Extra #13d - Technically A Cutsleeve? (Mo Xuanyu and Lan Jingyi)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[Masterpost] [AO3]

Instead of a small snippet of something for WIP Wednesday this week how about a rarely seen, highly endangered, actual update on a WIP? Groundbreaking 😂 This particular chapter has actually been sitting mostly-written in the doc for a very, very long time, just waiting for me to figure out if I liked it/how I'll tie it into the overall plans for the story, and I've finally figured it out (I think). These boys are doing the ancient fantasy China equivalent of U-Hauling it and I personally love that for them 😌

--//--

“Uuuuuggghhhhh!”

“That’s it, I’m done. Sizhui, it’s your turn to sit with him,” Zizhen sighs as he stands and stretches his arms over his head.

“It’s just a cold, Jingyi,” Sizhui reminds him as he takes the empty spot next to the bed to start taking his turn wiping his forehead with a damp cloth and Jingyi cracks one glassy eye open to glare at him. 

“You don’t know that,” he croaks, aiming for ‘belligerent’ but too weak to really sound it. “I could be dying.”

“Jingyi - I’m an actual doctor,” Sizhui reminds him gently with a laugh that thankfully doesn’t jostle him.

“Then I’m dying of some brand new unheard of disease and your doctor training is no help here,” he pouts without missing a beat. His deathbed is no place for logic, he doesn’t want it. 

“Oh good. In that case when you die can I take your corpse home with me for my aunt and I to study?”

“Sizhui what the fuck,” Jingyi deadpans. Zizhen throws his head back to laugh loudly enough to make the pain in his head spike. “Zizhen shut the fuck up,” he adds as he bats Sizhui’s hands away to pull the cloth down over his eyes with a groan.

“Zizhen, his head does hurt, it’s best to be quiet,” Sizhui tempers and just as Jingyi is groaning his agreement the door bangs open, making him flinch.

“Idiots. Sizhui,” Jin Ling greets - standard. Really his crush could be seen from the moon at this point but even Jingyi has to agree that it’s cute how it makes Sizhui blush. It’s a lot cuter when Jingyi isn’t dying.

“Oh good, you’re back. Did you find what I asked for?”

“The healer said she’s never seen one of the herbs you wanted but when I told her what it was for she said we have one here in Lanling that she swears does the same thing. Other than that yeah, they had everything.”

“Mm. Oh! Hello,” Sizhui says warmly and that’s strange enough that Jingyi lifts the cloth off his eyes enough to peek through his lashes and he’s glad no one’s taking his pulse at the moment because he’s pretty sure his heart stops.

“Hello Wen-gongzi,” Mo Xuanyu replies in that smooth, low voice of his, an indulgent smile on his rouged lips. Jingyi is definitely going to die. This is it, he’s done for, goodbye cruel world. “I don’t mean to intrude but I was in the healer’s pavilion helping sort the herbs when A-Ling came in, and I don’t think you’ll blame me for not trusting him not to get them mixed up on the way over here,” he teases, obviously pleased with himself as Jin Ling scoffs, and Jingyi drops the cloth back over his eyes with a groan.

No matter how badly he wants to keep looking at Mo Xuanyu, Jingyi is pretty sure he’ll die of embarrassment at being seen like this before he could properly appreciate how beautiful Mo Xuanyu looks today. It was embarrassing enough when Mo Xuanyu had to help him with his depleted core, but getting sick like a child mere days later because of it?? Better to just hide his face and die in peace. (Although…if he could pick a last sight of this world, Mo Xuanyu’s coy smile would be a phenomenal option.)

“I trust A-Ling,” Sizhui says as he shifts around a bit to face their visitor, audibly smiling. “But I’m grateful for your help anyway, you’re not intruding at all. Is medicine also an area you’ve trained in?”

“One of my many skills, yes. You have a good memory, Wen-gongzi,” Mo Xuanyu laughs and his laugh isn’t grating - Zizhen - so Jingyi doesn’t comment. Or make a noise at all. Or move. Maybe if he doesn’t move Mo Xuanyu won’t see him. “I’m sure I’m no match for a doctor of the Dafan Wen, but I help our doctors pretty often, usually when the summer rains bring fevers, or on the odd chance our disciples are injured in a night hunt and the numbers overwhelm our usual rotation of healers.”

“Oh that’s perfect, it’s nothing serious anyway so that’s more than enough experience,” Sizhui replies. In the interest of saving at least some of his pride Jingyi decides to go ahead and break his brand new vow of eternal silence.

“Don’t lie to him, it’s very serious,” he retorts with a cough for his parched throat. “I’m dying, I just told you that Sizhui.”

“You’re not dying you moron, you have a cold,” Jin Ling snaps. How he manages to sound so snappish without raising his voice is an interesting skill. Jingyi both appreciates it - for the sake of his headache - and doesn’t - for the sake of his little remaining pride.

“I am dying, Sizhui already said he wants to take my poor corpse home to poke and prod at once I’m done using it.”

Mo Xuanyu’s responding laugh sets him on fire from head to toe, though it’s a small mercy that at least right now he can blame his dismayed groan on being sick rather than the stupidly massive crush he’s doing his best to hide.

“A-Ling tells me you four were planning to head into the city today,” Mo Xuanyu says as he sets down the wide, flat box of herbs on the table next to the bed. “What a shame poor Lan-gongzi is going to die without one last chance to enjoy it.”

“See? At least he understands me,” Jingyi posits weakly. He lifts one hand from his eyes to make a rude gesture in the general direction of Zizhen’s snickering. (Alright fine, so maybe his crush can be seen from the moon too, though thankfully Jin Ling has been too short-sighted to spot it yet .) 

“It’s alright, we can just go another day,” Sizhui replies, conciliatory as usual, always trying to keep the peace.

Mo Xuanyu instantly tuts, “Oh don’t be silly, you three can still go. I don’t have anything else to do as I was already helping the healers anyway. Leave Lan-gongzi to me and you three enjoy your day out.”

Seriously — who did Jingyi piss off so badly that this is his karmic repayment?! What in the world could he have possibly done to deserve being a sick, miserable mess in front of his crush who just so happens to be, oh right, absolutely fucking incredible? He’s going to actually become a monk after this. His parents had done it, after all - they had put him in the group care for the parentless children of the Sect and retreated right up the mountain to become monks in total isolation, what a grand family tradition to follow, what an incredible idea they had had! In fact, he’s been an idiot for not doing it sooner. He’s absolutely made for life as a monk, he doesn’t need to go chasing after the most stunning man he’s ever met. 

Jingyi waves one hand in half-hearted dismissal when his friends, after one more round of convincing from Mo Xuanyu, say their goodbyes and well-wishes and then the doors slide shut with a soft clack. For a long while there’s nothing but the quiet sounds of Mo Xuanyu moving around next to the bed — his even breathing, the nearly-inaudible jingle of the jeweled chains dangling from the zanzi in his hair, the whisper of fabric brushing against itself, the quiet grind of dried herbs between his gentle fingertips. Jingyi finds himself starting to relax against his best intentions. He’s tired, is the thing, and (at least when it’s just the two of them) Mo Xuanyu’s presence is surprisingly calming.

Jingyi frowns softly when the cloth is removed from his forehead and eyes some time later and he blinks his eyes open with an effort to study his companion. He’s hardly wearing any face makeup today, just a feather-soft dusting of his pale powder. It makes his skin look like porcelain, even more so than his heavier makeup, in Jingyi’s opinion. His eyes are similarly subtle, with just the faintest kiss of a red so gentle it’s almost pink at the outer corners and his long lashes darkened with black powder. It’s really not fair, Jingyi thinks, that Mo Xuanyu can do anything at all with his looks and be so beautiful. 

“You’re staring, Jingyi,” Mo Xuanyu teases as he re-wets the cloth and wrings it out with a smirk on his lips. 

“I am not! I died and my eyes are just open like that.”

“Ah okay, I see,” he laughs. “In that case, this humble one is honored to have been the last thing you saw before death.”

Mo Xuanyu turns to face him fully and Jingyi knows he should stop looking but there’s more to see at this angle. Mo Xuanyu’s huadian today is an intricate, beautiful thing, a flower of some sort clearly painted with a delicate, patient touch. He’s still smirking with gently-stained lips and his eyes, sharp and clever, are studying him right back with an intensity that makes Jingyi feel too warm all the sudden. 

“Be honest with me, how are you actually feeling?” he asks after a long few moments and Jingyi’s eyes slip shut without his permission as Mo Xuanyu rests one gentle hand on his forehead. It feels unbelievably intimate without his ribbon — he hadn’t even managed to get up and put it on before he’d realized he’d gotten so sick overnight and decided to stay in bed — but he can’t say he minds. He doesn’t mind at all. 

“It really is just a cold,” he grumbles, irritated with having to concede that ground. It’s worth it at least to hear Mo Xuanyu hum softly in approval, perhaps a bit in sympathy as well.

“Well I think you’ll pull through just fine, then — we’ll have to deprive Wen-gongzi of your corpse for a little longer,” he teases and Jingyi laughs weakly, though it’s still enough to set off a fresh coughing fit. 

“You really don’t have to stay, you know,” Jingyi says when it’s over and Mo Xuanyu has replaced the hand on his forehead with the soothing sweep of the cloth, regular and steady. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I do. Your cruel, heartless friends have abandoned you in this sorry state to go into the city, someone has to take care of you!”

Since their return from the night hunt, there have been moments (a lot of them, actually) when Jingyi suspects that Mo Xuanyu might like him too. They’re just little moments, hardly noticeable, but if he pays attention, and if he strings them along one right after the other in his mind like a strand of pearls, a pattern starts to take shape.

Mo Xuanyu always takes his arm if they happen to walk alone. He drops his wild act around him to be soft and genteel instead — but then cuts through that softness with acerbic wit when least expected just to make Jingyi laugh. He calls him by his name alone in private though he still uses his title in front of any audience. He finds excuses to touch him. He keeps finding excuses to get him alone. When he does, he looks at him like- like—

“Xuanyu-“

“Mhm? What is it, Jingyi?”

“Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

Jingyi says nothing for a long moment as he studies Mo Xuanyu’s gaze — intense, perhaps ever so slightly vulnerable, but..so warm. Practically daring him to take a deep breath and jump..

“Like you could do it forever.”

Mo Xuanyu takes a deep breath in of his own and smiles softly as he exhales again, his hand slipping down from his forehead to touch his cheek — just his hand, without the cloth between them as an excuse. Jingyi can’t help but stare at him as he brushes his thumb against his skin, his touch cool and soft as silk. 

“Ah, Jingyi, Jingyi. Only you would choose to do this when you’re ill. But alright. Tell me — what did you think of me, when you first met me that day in the gardens?” he asks, his voice quiet.

Later, Jingyi will blame what he says on being sick, his defenses crumbled first by feeling so poorly and then toppled completely by the tenderness Mo Xuanyu offers him. Really, though, it’s just that he’s been dying to say it almost since that first moment Mo Xuanyu had waved and called out his hello, kneeling in the middle of a field of white peonies like a beautiful heroine in those novels Zizhen is always reading.

“‘I’d rather die now than live with the possibility of never seeing such beauty again’,” he answers (he definitely hasn’t ever dipped into Zizhen’s stash) and Mo Xuanyu laughs (it’s still not fair that even his laugh is beautiful), covering his smiling mouth with one slender wrist.

“You did not! Stop borrowing lines from Ouyang-gongzi’s romances and tell me what you really thought.”

Jingyi snorts out a laugh that makes his head pound but he doesn’t care when Mo Xuanyu is smiling and laughing at him like that. 

“Alright, alright,” he acquiesces, coughing slightly as he settles. “I just thought that if you were really as wild and ridiculous as the Young Mistress had told us you were but you could still be so beautiful and elegant at the same time then…you seemed to be everything I didn’t even know I wanted until it was right in front of me. Nothing poetic, sorry.”

“It doesn’t have to be poetic,” Mo Xuanyu mumbles around his shy blushing. “I like the real version better. I don’t like that you’re finally confessing to me while you’re too sick to do anything about it.”

“Too bad,” Jingyi retorts with a haughty little lift of his chin, smiling weakly when Mo Xuanyu instantly flicks him in the throat lightly enough that he hardly feels it, but the teasing intention is there.

“You’re really terrible, you know. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Jingyi smirks then, immensely proud of himself, and Mo Xuanyu chuckles softly as he strokes his cheek again with the back of one knuckle.

“You should get some sleep,” Mo Xuanyu murmurs after his eyes have slipped shut. “I’ve made your medicine, you can drink it and then rest.”

“Are you still going to be here when I wake up?”

“Of course. What sort of doctor would I be if I left one of my patients to die all alone?”

Jingyi chuckles at that but it quickly turns into a coughing fit that has Mo Xuanyu curling a comforting hand around his shoulder to help him lean up on one elbow and hold him close as he brushes his hair back from his forehead with the other hand.

“You’re disgusting,” Mo Xuanyu stage-whispers when he’s finished coughing and Jingyi groans weakly, shoves half-heartedly at his shoulder to hear him laugh. “Come on, A-Yi, sit up for me for a minute,” he continues once his chuckling has subsided and Jingyi’s ears burn at the diminutive. He’s pretty sure he’s never been more motivated to sit up in his entire life though so he does as he’s asked, and if he personally feels that Mo Xuanyu touches (and squeezes) his arms a little more than strictly necessary to “help” him accomplish it then that’s their business. 

He turns then to pour him a cup of the medicine and this time Jingyi doesn’t even feel guilty about staring. Mo Xuanyu’s smirk only grows as he works and by the time he turns back to hand Jingyi the decoction he looks on the verge of bursting into laughter, which is charming in and of itself, but he’s also blushing a deep red under his powder which is probably one of the loveliest things Jingyi has ever seen.

He stops staring, finally, to take the medicine and drain it as quickly as he can with a grimace, the bitter grassiness of the herbs thick and cloying on the back of his tongue. Mo Xuanyu makes a sympathetic noise in his throat and takes the cup back to fill it with fresh water, which Jingyi drinks a bit more slowly to help rinse out his mouth. He wonders if it’s strange for him to feel so comfortable around Mo Xuanyu, but at least for now he sees no need to try to make conversation or to do anything, really, except let Mo Xuanyu tend to him. He’ll return the favor a hundred-fold as soon as he can, but for now he lies back to let Mo Xuanyu cool his face with the cloth again, content to be cared for. 

Just as he’s drifting off, he hears Mo Xuanyu chuckle quietly and mutter, “A-Ling is going to be so mad,” and Jingyi falls asleep mid-snicker.

—//—

When Jingyi wakes again it’s with a gasp and a start, sending him sitting straight upright fast enough to make his head spin.

“Hey, easy,” someone tells him and Jingyi fights through the lingering dizziness to turn his head and find that –

Uh-huh. That’s Mo Xuanyu. Who nursed him back to health, apparently staying with him all day and all night, judging by the quality of the light beyond the windows.

“Uh-”

“Oh no no, don’t get embarrassed now!” Mo Xuanyu chides around a smile. “You’re awfully sweet when you’re sick and if you tell me you regret anything you said I’m going to say fuck the rules of hospitality and tell Xuan-ge to kill you.”

Jingyi snaps his mouth shut because that’s certainly not the case, not at all, but…well…even if he doesn’t regret it, it was still embarrassing! He settles for leaning forward to prop his elbows up on his lap to bury his face in his hands and naturally he doesn’t pull away when Mo Xuanyu stands up to come sit next to him so he can rub a small hand in circles on his back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Great,” he tries to say, but it comes out weak and raspy. Mo Xuanyu tuts softly and slips away from his side again with a rustle of his skirts. Jingyi takes slow, measured breaths like he’s trying to meditate through the quiet clinking of ceramic and the nearly-inaudible burble of pouring, and by the time Mo Xuanyu returns to press a cup of water into his hand he feels slightly more capable of showing his face.

He takes a sip of it obediently and then drains it in a few greedy gulps, abruptly aware of the fact that his mouth feels mildly reminiscent of the deserts far to the north. Mo Xuanyu refills it for him without a word, and when he’s drained the cup for a second time Jingyi actually feels ready to look at the other man straight on.

He hides the anxiety lurking in his gaze quickly, but not quickly enough.

“I meant it,” he blurts, panicked by the idea that Mo Xuanyu looks so nervous because of him. “Everything I said yesterday, I meant it! I…Lans are cursed,” he grumbles the complaint — and then abruptly realizes how that must sound and he twists to get his knees under him and turn to face Mo Xuanyu directly, to hold his face tenderly between his palms like he can hold him in place long enough for his wild, racing thoughts to chase each other in the right direction to not fuck this up completely.

“Wait no it’s not a real curse – and not that I think falling in love with you is a curse at all! Honestly it’s probably the best thing that’ll ever happen to me even if I scare you off because honestly how could I not? I sound insane. I feel insane, actually, and none of this is helping me give you a reason to stick around is it? Um. What I meant was that Lans just…we just do this, and I always thought that I maybe wasn’t really a Lan because no one’s ever made me feel like this and I’ve met so many wonderful people that I liked just fine but they didn’t make me feel like you did when I realized who you were and what that could mean and —”

Jingyi cuts himself off as abruptly as if he’d been Silenced (perhaps partially thanks to how he’s pretty sure he’s been conditioned by how many times someone else has Silenced him when he spirals) at the sight of Mo Xuanyu’s growing smile and the blush stealing across his powdered cheeks, so beautifully arresting that Jingyi feels like he might die if he doesn’t stop and appreciate the sight while he can.

“A-Yi,” Mo Xuanyu chides, soft and sweet as he nuzzles his cheek into Jingyi’s cupped palm. “You’re forgetting that I’ve seen my fair share of Lans in love. I know what you meant, stop panicking.”

Jingyi exhales sharply and sags forward to press his forehead against Mo Xuanyu’s, careful not to smudge the other man’s huadian. He stays still as Mo Xuanyu’s hands curl slowly around his wrists, stroke slowly up the lengths of his forearms to cup under his elbows and tug softly until Jingyi shuffles closer on his knees.

“You love me?” Mo Xuanyu teases when Jingyi’s heart has slowed and he groans, sagging further forward to bury his burning face in Mo Xuanyu’s shoulder.

“Can we pretend like I didn’t say that? I know it’s weird, and too fast and…just forget it? Maybe?”

“Hmmm…no, I don’t think I will.” His voice is warm and low, a banked fire, and Jingyi has to fight hard not to be lulled into a false sense of security. Because there’s no way that’s a good thing. There’s no way that he could confess to this man he’s known for little more than a week and have that just…be okay. And even if it is okay, Jingyi knows precisely how quickly that can change when he lets his guard down and stops watching what he says and does. Mo Xuanyu hasn’t known him for very long, it’s too much to expect to think that he would want to pursue any sort of lasting relationship, which would be…rather unfortunate, for Jingyi’s apparently very ‘Lan’ heart that, if the clan stories are true, will only love like this once.

“You know, I always secretly thought that Yao-ge and Wei-ge were bluffing a little about how passionate you Lans are,” Mo Xuanyu muses when Jingyi’s mortified silence must go on a bit too long. He tuts softly and brushes gentle fingers through Jingyi’s hair, combing it away from the nape of his neck until Jingyi has to suppress a full-body shiver of pleasure. “You poor thing, I’ll have to be extra careful with that soft heart of yours, won’t I?”

Oh.

Jingyi sucks in a sharp breath and tries to think of some way to reply to that but finds himself strangely at a loss for words. How is he supposed to express how good that sounds? To be treated gently? Carefully? Maybe he’s still a little worn out from his fever, because his eyes are suddenly burning and he exhales shakily around something tight in his chest. Mo Xuanyu hums quietly in the back of his throat and stops petting his hair to cup the back of his neck directly instead, his thumb brushing softly back and forth just below his hairline.

“Yeah,” Mo Xuanyu murmurs, audibly smiling as he tucks his cheek against the side of Jingyi’s head, “It’s mine now, no taking it back, and I promise I’ll be careful with it, alright?”

As is quickly becoming a pattern that Jingyi can’t be mad about at all, he finds himself helpless to do anything but agree and go along with whatever Mo Xuanyu thinks is best. He nods and slips one arm tentatively around Mo Xuanyu’s waist to hold him close, and they don’t separate until they hear a ruckus beyond the door that gives them a solid 30 second warning before Jin Ling’s blustering, fussing arrival with breakfast for them both.

#the untamed fanfic #Technically a Cutsleeve? #Lan Jingyi #Mo Xuanyu #Lan Jingyi/Mo Xuanyu #Nonbinary Mo Xuanyu #Junior Quartet #not me updating an old project after a year plus and it's the one that's significantly less popular than all the others accumulating dust 💀 #But for the select people who really like this fic I hope this is an exciting day lol

[heartofspells]

Masterpost

@wolfstarmicrofic

Prompt: rock rose

The next morning arrives slowly, Sirius never sleeping. He's not sure that he does sleep anymore, every time he wakes finding himself in the same spot as though he's had no choice in the matter, his body aching, head throbbing, everything disorienting like he's been pulled through thick gelatin and deposited somewhere he doesn't belong. He's only just managed to find the strength to move again when there's a loud knock on the door, and Sirius hears a small crash from the bedroom.

Remus emerges as another knock sounds a minute later. He's sleep-rumbled, his waves of brown hair chaotic over his head, reminiscent of James'. He's wearing a pair of too-loose bottoms, his wrinkled shirt having ridden up enough with his movements to reveal a small section of pale, scarred flesh over his side just along his waistband. He makes a hasty line for the front door, but he freezes, eyes settling on Sirius as he slowly works his way to his feet again.

"Fuck," curses Remus under his breath, looking as though he's forgotten, or maybe that he thought Sirius' presence had been nothing more than a dream. He seems disappointed. "You can't be here, but here you are." He frowns deeply, the expression only intensifying as a more insistent knock sounds and the muffled voice of a woman calls out.

"Remus, are you in there?"

Remus groans a little as he fixes Sirius with a sharp glare. "Stay there," he warns. "Stay out of the way. Do not speak."

He doesn't wait on a response, which is for the best as Sirius is too baffled to form a proper one before the man is tugging the door open. A woman with bright pink hair stands on the other side, tiny in stature, Remus more than a head taller than her, her heart-shaped face staring up at him curiously.

"Sorry," he apologizes quickly. "You're early. Or I'm late. I'm not sure which." He shakes his head as the woman's eyebrows pinch together. "Late night," he finally says, sighing a little at the end.

The woman provides him with an odd look before she shrugs. "Wotcher, Remus," is all she says. Remus smiles softly at her.

"Good morning, Dora."

The woman – Dora – reaches up and cups one side of Remus' face with a small hand, her expression shifting with concern. "You look tired," she observes. "Are you feeling all right after – "

"Yes," interjects Remus quickly, cutting across her words. "I'm fine, I promise. It was just a late night. Loads of unpacking."

Dora hums quietly, glancing around for a moment. "Nice place. Good on you," she praises, and Sirius watches as Remus shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, Dora plucking at the beading forming a rock rose over her jacket as she watches him. "Right, well, I've got to go. We are a bit early, but they need me there sooner today. I only found out this morning or I would have told you."

"It's fine, really," says Remus, waving his hand at her even as she turns back to the hall beyond the door.

"Teddy, c'mon. Leave the cat alone. I think you've poked at it enough. He's not interested, mate," she calls out, and then a boy with bright blue hair is appearing in the doorway, barreling forward and into Remus before he stops, Remus grunting a little from the impact even as he laughs, the action lighting up his face.

"Child," says Sirius before he can stop himself, feeling a jolt of shock race through him. The woman and boy ignore him as though he hasn't spoken, but Remus shoots him another hateful glare.

"Be good for Dad, Ted," say Dora, running her hand over the boy's bright head. "I'll see you in a few days."

Sirius shakes his head. "Dad?" he hisses questioningly, mostly to himself. He remains ignored this time, but he can see Remus' shoulders stiffening.

The pair bids the woman goodbye, and then Remus is closing the door. He scrubs over his face for a moment, glancing at Sirius warily in the process before his eyes drop to his son.

"What d'you think of the place?" he asks curiously.

"S'nice," mumbles Teddy. "Big. Do I have my own room this time?"

Something in the excitement of the inquiry hits Sirius in the chest even as Remus' eyes flash oddly, a forced sort of smile tugging into place on his mouth. "You do, yeah. Have you had breakfast?" At Teddy's nod of affirmation, Remus' smile pulls into something truer. "Then why don't you go inspect it while I get dressed, then I'll take you to school? Sound good?"

"Great!" chirps Teddy, but then his eyes are landing on the fireplace, gaze sliding over Sirius. "Neat!" he cries, rushing forward, Remus following quickly at his heels as he approaches Sirius. "You've got a fireplace this time."

Sirius takes a surprised step back as the boy stops in front of him, but he smiles, thoughts locked on Harry. He's always been good with kids.

"Hiya, lad," he greets, hand reaching out as Teddy inspects the brickwork around the empty grate.

"Don't do that!" shouts Remus, his own arm darting out and connecting with Sirius' just as his hand comes down over Teddy's shoulder. The force of the collision sends Sirius' fingers crashing into Teddy, but they never hit, slipping through him instead, Remus gripping around his wrist as he pulls back.

Teddy lurches backwards in shock, but neither man notices, staring at where the boy and Sirius' hand had been in muted horror.

"I wasn't doing anything!" cries Teddy defensively, glaring balefully up at his father. "I was only looking. I never even touched it. What are you staring at, Dad?"

"What the fuck was that?" demands Sirius, pulling his wrist from Remus' firm grip. The other man only shakes his head, and Teddy frowns. Sirius looks down at him. "Can he see me?" he asks Remus, eyes fixing on the boy. "Can you see me?"

Teddy continues gazing at his father as though Sirius doesn't exist, and he stumbles back a few steps. Remus' mouth works, eyes wide and awestruck.

"Sorry, Ted," he finally manages. "I didn't mean to shout. I thought I…saw something. It's fine. I'm sorry. Go look at your room, all right? We'll leave soon."

Teddy slowly wanders off, but Sirius doesn't even wait until he's gone before he's muttering, "He can't see me. He can't see me. I bet she couldn't see me either. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?"

"You can't even touch him," breathes out Remus after a long while, staring after his son. "But I can touch you. You're solid. To me, you're solid, but not for him."

"What the hell does any of that mean?" snaps Sirius, feeling desperate confusion clawing up his throat.

Remus shakes his head. "I don't know," he mumbles, "but I have to take him to school. I'll…be back. Just – "

"Stay here?" snarls Sirius before he snorts derisively. "Doesn't seem as though I've much choice, does it?"

Remus doesn't respond, turning and disappearing down the hall, leaving Sirius alone in his bafflement, head spinning and throbbing again, eyes squinting against the pain.

#these days of dying #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #sirius/remus #wolfstarmicrofic #my writing #my microfics #holli writes

[elizaviento]

Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 2 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane/Female Farmer/OC)

Notes: Not me drawing from personal experiences to write fiction. Nope. Not at all...

This chapter is rated SFW — 3379 words. Mentions of blood and injury.

(FYI: Additional chapters of Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine can be found in the Stardew Valley Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #green on the vine strawberry wine tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

****

Jas stuck out her bottom lip quite dramatically as Shane hastily tied the laces of his Joja Mart issued sneakers and put on the matching hat. She'd undoubtedly thought her plan was flawless when she'd snuck into his room in the middle of the night and unplugged his alarm clock from the wall outlet.

"You have school today, honey," Marnie spoke up from the kitchen. The clang of cast iron against steel signaled that she was preparing breakfast for the forlorn 8-year-old. "You can't skip it just because you want to do something else instead."

Shane sighed, deep and weary. He'd stayed later at the Stardrop than he'd intended the night before, brooding on Kristen's sullen demeanor at the loss of one of her hens and the shit way he'd responded to it. Hell, he hadn't done much at all other than confirm how a fox had breached the enclosure. The farmer never frequented the Saloon so early in the day, let alone during weekdays. She'd come there to see him specifically, and he'd given her as much comfort as a wet wool blanket.

"You can't squeeze blood from a stone."

That phrase, as infuriating as it was, looped between his ears in his therapist's baritone voice. Smooth and precise. Shane, in this instance, was the stone. He'd been the stone for as long as he could remember. Unyielding, unfeeling, unbreakable. So, how could he ever be a source of comfort for anyone ?

"We'll talk about what you did when I get home," he said to Jas as he passed her in the doorway of his bedroom. He wasn't mad. Not at her, at least. He was obviously failing somewhere if she felt the need to sabotage him just so he'd spend time with her.

Jas' brown eyes gazed up at him, large and wet, and she sniffled. The sight squeezed his heart uncomfortably, and he stooped to wrap her in a brief hug, her damp face pressing to his throat as she mumbled a soft apology. The squeeze on his heart tightened, and he dropped a kiss on top of her head as he stood and strode toward the kitchen. 

"You can't stay for a quick bite?"

Marnie's disheveled hair framed her face in a way that he recalled from childhood when wild, messy, big curls were in style. Nostalgia slapped him unexpectedly, and his eyes softened at the sight of her bending over backward to ensure others were cared for.

"I have to run to get to Joja on time," he replied. "I'll be home for dinner today."

His aunt smiled and nodded, knowing that statement held more weight coming from him than anyone else.

The sultry summer air seemed to swallow him the second Shane stepped outside. The sun was just peeking over the dense layer of trees in Cindersap Forest, but he knew it would beat directly down on him as soon as he crossed the threshold into town. It would be a miracle if he wasn't soaked in sweat by the time he stumbled through the automatic sliding doors of Joja Mart.

Starting out at a quick walk, Shane checked his watch and groaned. He really would have to run.

On an average day, Shane meandered his way to work slowly, mentally preparing himself for mind-numbing monotony interspersed with Morris' nasally voice barking demands at him from the comfort of his tiny office. But that luxury of time was cut by nearly a quarter, and he forced his legs to start at a steady jog before pushing a bit harder. The inevitable burning in his lungs was made significantly worse by the oppressive humidity coating his throat, forcing him to cough and suck in ragged breaths like he'd been drowning in a vat of sludge.

The vibration and accompanying ringtone emitting from his cargo pocket initially posed a simple annoyance. He wondered who it could possibly be. Did he forget something at home? Was Jas hurt? Had Morris asked him to come in early today, and he forgot?

He wanted to ignore it, knowing answering would slow him down. But those foreboding questions nagged at him until he dropped to a brisk walk and pulled the device from his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Shane —"

A boulder formed in his gut and weighed him down. He slowed further and listened intently as the woman on the other end of the call coughed, peaking the speaker of his cheap smartphone until it crackled under the pressure. Something was wrong.

He hadn't meant for his voice to sound so harsh when he addressed her but the effort to make it seem like he wasn't completely winded from running a quarter of a mile made it difficult.

Eventually, he'd coaxed her into telling him precisely what had happened, and he cursed, the boulder in his gut rolling as if downhill, carving a hole through his insides for the seeds of unadulterated panic to sprout and take root. Without realizing it, he started sprinting harder and faster than before. His knees ached each time his soles made contact with the cobbled stone walkways of the town square. Harvey's clinic was in sight, though it wouldn't open to the public for at least another hour.

Shane wasn't sure what he'd said to the farmer after he'd gotten a limited scope of the situation. His body and mind went on auto-pilot, homing in on the clinic as every possible scenario played out in the back of his mind. Even the call he'd made to Morris seemed fuzzy and nondescript. He'd probably babbled something about an emergency and requested the day off. He was sure he'd hear about it the following day, nonetheless.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck …" he chanted as he pulled on the locked door of the clinic. Shane knew it would be so, but he yanked harder, recalling his tendency to anxiously flip a light switch over and over during a power outage.

"Shane — what are you doing? The clinic doesn't open until 9."

Lewis stood at the side of the building, under one of the oak trees, with a puzzled expression. Unexpected rage materialized at the center of Shane's chest, scorching his neck, cheeks, and the tips of his ears. It would be so easy to yell at the old man, to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business. But the last thing Shane needed was to start a screaming match in the middle of town with the Mayor. He was already regarded as the local lush alongside Pam, and any type of altercation this early would be construed as a drunken rant carried over from the night before.

Instead, Shane swiped a trembling hand down his face and sighed, gathering his wits enough to sound semi-coherent.

"It's an emergency," he said. He hadn't realized he was clenching his jaw until he spoke and the ache of its release shot straight to his temples. "Kriss is hurt."

Lewis' demeanor shifted on a dime from suspiciously cautious to concerned, and Shane silently congratulated himself for keeping his cool.

"What happened?" the old man asked, walking toward Shane with determination he'd never seen in his eyes.

"You really want me to stand here and waste time explaining? Either help me or don't," Shane spat.

It was becoming harder to keep his emotions under control. He hadn't a clue how bad Kristen's injury truly was. He reckoned that if she'd chopped her entire hand off, she'd play it off as a scratch.

"Alright, calm down," Lewis replied, furrowing his brow as he rooted around in the pocket of his shit-colored brown slacks.

The muffled jingle of keys sparked a memory that Shane had tried to bury quite unsuccessfully: Lazy giggles and the unfocused sight of cherry lipstick on the rim of a shot glass. The soft press of a slender yet strong body at his side, arm draped over his shoulder as he struggled to keep it upright. His own intoxication clouding his judgment, making it loose and accommodating. Tiny, glistening snowflakes clinging to black lashes and the chocolate brown beneath them boring a hole directly through the cavernous void he referred to as his soul…

"Harvey gave me a spare key for instances such as this," Lewis began, thrusting Shane back into reality with nauseating force. "Stay here, and I'll see if he's in his apartment upstairs."

❦❧🍓❦❧

Relaying the situation to Harvey was frustrating, but Shane stumbled his way through it enough to give the physician an idea of the supplies he'd need to bring. Shane appreciated Harvey's haste as he stuffed gauze, hooked needles, suturing thread, and tape into his medical bag.

"She didn't tell you how bad it was?" Harvey confirmed again as he walked toward a locked cabinet and removed a small bottle of pills and several liquid-filled vials. Next, he drew two syringes from a nearby drawer and placed them in the bag with the rest of the supplies.

"No," Shane replied, raking a hand through his hair.

"That's fine. I've packed extra of everything, just in case." Shouldering the medical bag, Harvey made his way toward the back of the clinic. A door Shane had never noticed before caught his eye just in time for the good doctor to swing it open and step outside. "We'll take my car and park at the bus stop. I want to be prepared in case I have to drive her to the Zuzu City hospital. Lewis, can you put the house call sign on the front door and lock it on your way out?"

The Mayor attempted to weakly protest — obviously intending to accompany the pair to the farm — but Harvey only supplied a quick "thanks" as he motioned for Shane to follow him outside.

"I know Lewis means well, but he'll just get in the way," Harvey explained as he unlocked the surprisingly old vehicle and slipped inside. Following his lead, Shane entered the passenger side and noted the car's worn leather interior.

Guess private practice in a small town isn't all it's cracked up to be , he thought as the engine roared to life and Harvey slowly pulled out into a cramped alley behind the clinic.

Shane couldn't recall ever having a proper conversation with Harvey in the entire three years he'd been in the Valley. Occasionally, the man would find Shane at the Saloon and remind him of his overdue physical that he would never attend. Once, Shane was assigned to sit at the same table as the physician at the Feast of the Winter Star. If they'd spoken then, it was so inconsequential that Shane had no memory of it. In fact, the only common thread between them was Kristen. As far as he knew, she'd come to know Harvey well and often referred to him as her friend. The thought put an indescribable weight on Shane's chest and made his breaths uncomfortably shallow.

"I wonder why she called you instead of me," Harvey mused aloud. Shane turned his head and focused on the man's old fashioned horned rimmed glasses and handlebar mustache. "Not that she shouldn't have called you," Harvey quickly added, realizing his statement could be misconstrued. "What I mean is —"

"Nah, I get it," Shane interrupted, not particularly keen on hearing Harvey's fumbling attempt to save face. "I dunno why she'd call the stock boy over the doctor."

It wasn't the first time he'd upset himself with words that had come out of his own mouth. The double meaning they held only served to sour his mood further. 

The remainder of the ride was short and blessedly quiet. Shane allowed himself to zone out as the trees passed by one by one in a blur of brown and green. He wasn't sure what type of scene they'd come upon at Wynand farm, but he imagined a flock of hens free range in the tall grass outside of the enclosure and a pitiful farmer sitting on her porch with a blood-soaked towel wrapped around one hand. 

❦❧🍓❦❧

"Oh dear…" Harvey said as they emerged on the farm from the footpath that led from the bus stop. A clear trail of blood caked into the dirt before them, leading from the chicken coop toward the farmhouse. The farmer was nowhere in sight, but the course continued up the porch steps and through the front door, which sat slightly ajar.

Shane's heart hammered the back of his ribs as adrenaline spiked and flooded his limbs. Hot, like the first sip of whiskey after a weak attempt at sobriety. 

"That's a lot of blood," Harvey spoke again, stating the obvious. His steps hastened, but he was quickly overtaken by Shane, sprinting toward the farmhouse with none of the physical struggles he'd displayed on his earlier run toward Joja Mart. 

When he reached the porch, his footfalls loudly stomped against the ancient wood, causing Kristen's cat to leap nearly a foot in the air from the rocking chair it had been snoozing on.

"Kriss…" He called to her timidly, one hand reaching toward the open door of the farmhouse. He was almost terrified of what he would find inside. Had she really chopped off a hand? Had she bled out and become a shriveled husk? 

Harvey's footfalls were significantly softer in comparison as he joined Shane on the porch. Instead of hesitating, he pushed past Shane and entered the farmhouse with the confidence of someone who had been inside many times over — another detail for Shane to dwell on endlessly as he chased the bottom of several beer cans.

"Kristen, it's Harvey," the doctor said, switching on a nearby lamp that sat just inside the door. Dull light flooded the farmhouse's living room, drenching it in pale yellow. A moan answered from the small kitchen to their left.

Slumped on the checkered tile floor sat the farmer, so deathly pale that the smattering of freckles that covered her nose and cheeks seemed to stand out like speckles on a fawn's backside. Her curly auburn hair hung limp around her face and shoulders, matted with blood and dirt. Smears of scarlet clung to almost every inch of her skin and stained her filthy overalls.

"What the fuck, Kriss…" Shane gasped as he cautiously approached. Her bloodshot eyes rolled upward to meet his as he stooped beside her and a weak smile played upon her lips. 

Harvey edged between them, much to Shane's annoyance, and clicked on a pin light that he'd smoothly pulled from the breast pocket of his neat button-down shirt. The harsh beam of light pierced through the gloom of the kitchen and landed directly on the farmer's pupils.

"Can you hear me?"

"Wha — huh?" she replied, words slightly slurred. She blinked her eyes rapidly against the light assaulting them. 

"What's your name?" Harvey's voice was stern and insistent.

"What?" she asked again, now squinting her eyes completely closed.

"What's happening? What's wrong with her?" Shane asked, pushing closer to Harvey's side. The urge to reach out, grab her arm and shake her violently was overwhelming.

"She's disoriented. She must have passed out and is having some trouble coming back around."

"My ears are ringing," Kristen whined, raising her uninjured hand to shove a finger inside one ear canal. Gently, Harvey pulled her hand away and tucked it at her side.

"She's still light headed," he supplied, clearly sensing Shane's anxiety as he edged in closer still. "And the rapid loss of blood is certainly not helping her disorientation. Fetch some water and a towel."

Shane hesitated for half a second, his eyes latched to the face of the only person in Pelican Town, outside of family, who treated him like a human being. The vacant expression she wore was distressing in a way he couldn't describe with words, even if he tried.

"Shane."

Harvey's voice now held an edge of authority that bristled Shane in the same manner as when Morris beckoned him like a minion. But Shane dutifully shook it off and did as he was told.

The two-bedroom farmhouse was easy enough to traverse, and Shane located a clean towel, filled the glass by her bedside at the tap in her tiny bathroom, and returned to the kitchen just in time to catch Harvey hauling Kristen from the floor, guiding her toward the small oak table and chair situated next to the cellar stairs.

"She only has white towels," he blurted, suddenly unsure as to why he even cared. Weeks later, his therapist would enlighten him on the fact that his brain was attempting to focus on something other than the elephant in the room. Deflection.

"Actually —" Harvey said as Shane placed the glass of water on the table, "— can you check to see if she has any juice? The sugar will help bring her around."

Shane knew instantly that she had jugs upon jugs of cranberry juice stacked in the cellar. She'd overestimated how many of the bitter fruit she'd planted the fall prior and spent the entirety of winter canning them for jelly, fermenting them for wine, and squashing them for juice. Soon, the farmer was sipping it from a mug, her eyes seeming to clear and focus as Harvey cleaned her wounded right hand with the supplies from his medical bag.

"Ow, fuck…" she hissed, jerking from Harvey's loose grip when a swab of alcohol made contact with her severed flesh. Harvey hardly reacted as he gently grasped her wrist and pulled it back toward him.

"This wound is worse than I expected," he said, leaning in a bit closer to inspect it now that the steady flow of blood had significantly slowed. "I can stitch it up now, but I want to refer you to a specialist in Zuzu. I wouldn't be surprised if you require surgery."

Shane stood like a statue in the far corner of the kitchen, arms crossed and unmoving. Kristen's mental facilities were shuffling back into place, and the color returned to her face, yet she appeared withdrawn. A dusting of pink tinted her cheeks, and she pointedly avoided eye contact with him and Harvey.

"That's fantastic," she replied with a dejected sigh. "A farmer with a bum hand isn't a recipe for disaster or anything."

Shane was well acquainted with the use of sarcasm as a mask, but the woeful quality of her tone struck him deep in the gut. The reality of her situation was sinking in, and Shane felt something creep up his spine. A sense of urgency that was entirely misplaced.

Harvey remained quiet as he dutifully cared for his patient. Shane couldn't tell if the doctor's lack of response was due to pity or awkwardness, but the silence sank like a lead balloon among the trio, nearly suffocating. Finally, Harvey spoke, warning the farmer that he'd inject a numbing agent into the wound before sewing the sutures. She screwed her eyes shut and nodded, obviously readying herself for further torture before her ordeal was concluded.

Shane's belly flip-flopped as he watched Harvey pull a syringe from the medical bag. He'd never had a weak stomach, having witnessed his fair share of injuries during his short gridball career in high school, but Kristen's anxiety seemed to fill the stuffy atmosphere of the kitchen like a miasma and seep into Shane's skin. Each gasp and twitch he witnessed filled him with oppressive unease, making him feel utterly useless.

"I'll be outside," he mumbled, already halfway there by the time he thought to vocalize his intentions. Once again, his mind grasped at anything else to occupy its thoughts other than the suffering of the only person he considered a friend. Fortunately, it didn't take long as he instinctively approached the chicken coop.

Sensing his presence, the hens within clucked and scratched insistently. Shane assumed that the farmer hadn't risked letting them loose to graze until she repaired the hole in the fence, so they were restless, pacing the straw-covered ground as they pecked at one another in frustration.

"Hey there, girls," he cooed, peering through a crack in the boards. "I'll let you out soon."

Approaching the half-patched hole, Shane found what was to keep him occupied until the dramatic scene in the farmhouse concluded. And so, he set to work.

*****

Just a heads up that updates will come weekly or bi-weekly. It just depends on how busy I am irl. <3

#stardew valley #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #sdv shane x farmer #fanfiction #green on the vine strawberry wine

[aneenasevla]

Heavy Bakery Short Story 1

"Inside Out"

Back to MasterPost

Ohma finds out a little girl while still living in the Inside, and, for once, he is a child.

Somewhere on the outskirts of suburban Tokyo, one afternoon on summer vacation, a boy was rummaging through the garbage at a market. After a few days of the week, it was a good opportunity to hunt for food there, especially at this hour, when the beggars weren't there and the servants were busy working inside. And there was good stuff, if you paid attention. Unlocking a lock wasn't difficult, if you had the strength. And since he started training with that long-haired old man, he's gained a bit of strength.

He didn't exactly need it right now, but something in himself said it wasn't good to depend on the old man, and this time he wasn't after fruits or vegetables. Today was a special day, when the market threw out sweets and some types of meat, from the previous week. After he cleaned the mold and fried it well, he could eat it without getting sick. And he wanted something different today.

He found a packet full of those brown bars, which melted in your mouth. He never understood why the market threw such delicious things in the trash, but he would be the last to complain. He looked around to see if he hadn't been seen and smiled as he took the package out of the giant green container.

He was about to open one of them when a large projectile hit him in the head, knocking him off balance and causing him to drop everything to the ground. Luckily the thing was very light and didn't exactly hurt him, but it smeared his face with mud. The round black and white thing bounced to the ground beside him. Who the hell had thrown that and messed up his lunch…?

“Oh no!” a voice growled. It was from a girl.

“Sheesh Kana, look what you did!” said another boy.

“Right in the p’ohibited area!” Said another of them, tongue-tied.

“Hey guys, sorry…” Another voice spoke, it was from another girl. That's probably the one that threw the ball “I'll go get it.”

“Are you cwazy, girl? It's in the fo’bidden area!” the tongue-tied boy said.

“Now you owe me a soccer ball!” the second girl yelled.

The boy in the garbage raised an eyebrow. He looked down at the “sockerball” lying on the floor beside his candy bars. It was almost the size of his head, made of something that looked like leather, worn in some places.

For some reason, the kids didn't want to come here, which, in some part of his mind, was understandable. Nor would he be there if he wanted to, but it's not like he didn't have a choice, he wanted the brown bars today. Chocolate, his mind explained. He didn't know where that knowledge came from, but he knew he didn't have to worry about it.

“You're a bunch of softies” the girl grunted “there's a wire door over there, we can go through and get it…”

“But there is the fo’bidden á’ea!” the tongue-tied boy exclaimed, fearfully “there is a toxic gas that makes people into ‘monfters’!”

“Nonsense, there is no such thing” the same girl as before said “I'll go there, I'll get the ball and you will stop being idiots.”

“Jeez, Kanami said a bad word…” the second girl laughed softly, and the others laughed too.

The boy inside those walls was curious. Something about that voice sounded familiar to him, and they were after the "sockerball" so he took it. He put the box of brown bars back in the trash, of course. He would eat that later. He threw her over the wall, and he heard a general gasp.

“Ah! The ball is back!” a boy shouted.

“It's the monster, run!” he heard the children leaving in a stampede. He was confused. Hey, wasn't it supposed to be returned?

The boy, curious, saw some points on the wall that were conveniently climbable, and he did so. He surveyed the area. It looked like a wasteland. In the center of it, a girl screaming at the others.

“So scared of what, you slackers? It was just someone who threw it!” she said as the children ran away. She had light brown hair, and her clothes were clearly way better than his, so she must have been one of the “outsiders”, like the others. Naturally he would be suspicious of people “outside” but this one, he knew, not exactly how, but he knew, that she was to be trusted.

She looked at him. Green eyes. He stared back. The two looked at each other.

“You… you who threw the ball?” She asked.

He nodded. She smiled back.

“Thank you” she bows a little “the others say it's dangerous to go there, but I knew it was bullshit.”

“It's dangerous, yes,” he manages to say, his voice a little hoarse. It came out way higher pitched than he remembered, but that's what he had “One has to know how to survive here.”

“Ah” she looks him up and down, and smiles a little in disbelief “you're just a kid, too. So you survive too?”

He looks at himself. Thin arms, clothes torn but wearable, and she felt his long hair.

“Yeaa… what's up with that!?” He frowns.

“Nothing, but ok…” she takes the ball “Nara left her ball here… do you want to play? We can't make a football team, but we can play passes…”

He looked at her, smiling at him. He had no idea what she was saying, but he found it amusing. He jumped over the wall and landed on the ground, not feeling his legs ache from the impact. Weird. He was too light.

She smiled and came closer “you have a long hair… isn't that a girl thing?”

“It’s not, my master is a man and he has much longer hair than mine…”

“Oh, I think it's different there” she shrugs “but it's a beautiful hair.”

He snorts “what is this ‘playing’ you talk about?”

“Oh yes, it is… you have to move the ball without your hands, then we go from one to the other foot” she explains, as best she could, like playing, even explaining things she had learned at school.

“Oh… right.” He watches her kick the ball from one foot to the other. And she passes it to him, and he, awkwardly, tries to imitate her. He passes it to her, and she kicks him back in the air, but the ball goes over him and she runs behind him, catching the ball with her knees and parrying it with her feet, laughing when he looks a little confused.

“Try to take it from me now! No hands!” she laughs, running and kicking the ball away.

He was confused for half a second, standing in place, but then he smiled, running after her. She sure knew how to play it better than he did, but someone like him was the type who learned fast to survive, so he was soon getting the hang of it too.

By the end of the day the two were laughing and pushing each other to see who would have possession of the ball, almost grappling with each other trying to reach the thing with their foot, almost fighting for strength, and laughing out loud. He pushed her and she landed on her ass on the floor, and he managed to catch the ball, kicking it. He stopped when she wasn't chasing him. He looked back and saw her on the floor.

“Hey, what happened?” He went back to her. She was angry.

“You cannot push others!” She gets up “This is a joke, it's not meant to hurt!”

“But it was to catch the ball, wasn't it?”

“But you hit me!” she looks at her arm, it was red and bruised “it hurts…”

“Ah…” he looks at her, looks at the wall, wanting to run away, but looks at her “it’s just a scratch, it’ll heal soon…”

He approaches and she takes a step back, not wanting to look at his face, her eyes watering, she was trembling.

“Stop it, you look like a girl…” he tries to joke.

“I'm a girl, you idiot,” she retorts. Okay, that wasn't the best line, he scratches the back of his head, his faces red.

So he has an idea, and he runs, jumping and climbing the wall. The girl looks confused but still sad. Just when she thought he was gone, his hair pops out from over the wall, and he throws some things on the floor, before climbing up and over the wall again, on this side. And he comes back, with things in hand. Shows her.

There were chocolate bars. Brand new, still packaged in original plastic.

“Where did you find this?” she asks, he shrugs.

“I'm always happy when I eat this. Stop crying, then I give you.”

She blinks, looking up at him, then nods and wipes away her tears. He hands her one.

“There” he smiles, his hand goes to the top of her head “You’ll feel better, ok?”

She nods, smiling a little, cheeks flushing, pouting.

“Thank you” she murmurs, and then seemed to remember “Oh yeah, I didn't even introduce myself… I'm Oomori Kanami, how about you?”

“I don't have a name,” he said automatically. Oh, it's true, now he had a name “I mean, I do. Yeah… is Tokita Ohma…”

“Nice to meet you, Ohma.” She bends over a little and looks at his face. He opened the chocolate and began to eat. She mimics him, still looking. He looks back.

“What?” He said with his mouth half full.

“You're cool. I like you.” She smiles. He widens his eyes.

“Huh?” he was going to ask something, until he hears someone calling him.

“Ohma!!’ he knew that voice very well “where did you hide, boy? It's already dinner time!”

As annoyed as he was with that old man, the promise of food always brought him back. And also lessons on how to hit others, so instinctively he ran.

“Hey!” she calls him back. He stops, and looks at her “will I see you again?”

He looked at her, and he wanted to smile, but his master was calling him. He nodded, and ran back to the wall, jumping and climbing, back to the "inside."

The sight of the girl looking at him was the last thing he saw before waking up.

…

Ohma shifted a little, sensing his surroundings before opening his eyes. As it came into focus, he saw the ceiling of a room, dark but dimly brightening in the morning light streaming through the window. His body felt its own weight again, and shape, and suddenly he felt much heavier, bigger… and there was something warm beside him. He looked, and as he witnessed his wife's sleeping body, he suddenly remembered things. She was at home, in their room, and today was Sunday.

A strange sense of peace and laziness washed over him, so he rolled onto his side and hugged her. He smelled her, and the sound she made in her sleep, snuggling against him, and smiled. She liked those early morning moments, the silence of the room, just enough light for him to see her, and nothing else. But he felt her waking up, and he was sure of it when she opened her eyes, lifting her head to him.

“Good morning,” Kanami says, her voice slurred. He just grunted in response. Her face was certainly much older than the girl he'd seen in the dream, but still, he felt happy as he leaned his forehead against hers, and hugged her tighter “we're lazy today, huh?”

“Hnmmm…” he nods, still slurring his voice “you are.”

“And who is preventing me from getting up?”

“Leave me be… I'm happy…” he starts to laugh softly “and, for some reason, I feel like eating chocolate now.”

The comment made her laugh, and he laughed along. This bottomless bag…

Back to MasterPost

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #kenganverse #heavybakery #ohma tokita #tokita ohma #kengan oc #fanfiction #kengan ashura imagines #children #soccer

[idleglowingpixels]

I Started Typing A Regular Post When Oops It Turned Into An Update Post (Mainly about MH-AU & XXY)

Just spent the last couple hours give-or-take on completing Cleo's profile, which I'm excited to be releasing later today! Her post is scheduled to release around noon EDT (I scheduled Lagoona's and it made things a lot easier to post her at a reasonable hour so I'm doing that from now on cause OH MY GOD :'D). She will be the last in the current set of character designs/bios I have prepared.

I have one teensy tiny more MH-AU goodie for Halloween before I get back to XXY full-time (dw I have been working on it in the background, progress has just been super slow cause I'm trying to finish the fic's outline). I will still be working on the MH-AU, don't get me wrong, just not as my top priority cause my PPG followers have been patient enough with me for more XXY content. I do plan on making another series of character design/bios, this time focusing on the mansters since they actually serve a purpose in the fics other than "the boyfriend" (Sorry they didn't do too much in a majority of the movies okay, I love them in the webisodes tho!). And once Cleo's post drops, I'll make a masterpost for the MH-AU since there's enough out now that I feel it necessary; keeps all the lore organized and junk. I'll have it linked in my general masterpost for quick access should anyone need it for reference. If they are updated at all later on, I'll make a post about it.

My current oneshot WIPs for the MH-AU are: - My equivalent to G1's New Ghoul @ School (tbh I might just use that name cause it's so iconic and I can't really come up with anything better lol), which might end up becoming a SMALL multichapter should it require that (3-6 Chapters max). There's a lot that goes on in Frankie's first week, more than the original series of mishaps unfortunately (poor Frankie :'D), and it also sets up a lot of stuff prior to the first week of school for them that I think is super important to their character. - Taking A Lycan To New Salem (Working Title), a short story about one of Clawdeen's human-side escapades gone wrong. (I want to talk about this one SO BAD but alas, it'll have to wait til I finish the fic. I'm already 1k words into it!) And I have several more in mind that I can't wait to write and share. Until then, I'll keep you guys posted!

(Random side note: I had no idea how many of these characters were gonna have a criminal record like holy shit dgfhgsddfg)

---

I've been in a super artsy mood so if I can manage to actually complete a sketch of the team, I really wanna post a drawing of XXY as a whole (I tend to ditch my sketches after 1-2 characters are drawn q-q). I also really wanna draw the "Normie Trio/3" as I call them, consisting of Robin, Mitch and Mike. I eventually wanna draw more characters that get redesigns from age, alterations in the case of the reboot villains, and such, but I think I just needed to get into the art mood again cause now I actually plan to do these things! :D

Also, while progress has been slow, I'm gonna assume from my current status that I'll be able to complete XXY's next batch probably around the end of this year, to be released in January. I'm so sorry to delay its release to January, but please understand I am really passionate about this story and wanna make it the best (and most fun) I can make it. And I'm not gonna go out and say "hey this is exactly how many chapters there'll be," but I might end up making about 70 chapters total including all the intermission/MultiPOV chapters, but that remains to be seen.

I do have good news for you guys, however; considering where the story is headed, I've realized I'm gonna need to throw in another intermission chapter at the end of this batch, with a new character's POV! They haven't shown up yet, and won't until that chapter, but believe me when I say I am VERY VERY excited to write it and I really love this character. The chapter name for them is super appropriate too lol.

While I'm here I'm gonna drop the chapter titles, as they don't really reveal anything. The previous theme was weather patterns, focusing on the coming and going of rain and shine. This one's flowers!

Chapter 8 - Gladiolus Chapter 9 - Hyacinth Chapter 10 - Spearmint Chapter 11 - Coriander Chapter 12 - Hibiscus Chapter 13 - Violet Chapter 14 - Jasmine Tobacco

Hope all the little tidbits I shared hold you guys over and get you excited for the coming months. Thanks as always for your patience!

#linposts #monster high au #xxy #blog update

[eagles-translated]

Episodes 1 and 2 of Eagles season 4 are now streaming on SVT Play!

The first two episodes of Eagles season 4 have just dropped on SVT Play (02:00 CET)! I will get started on the English transcripts as soon as I can and they'll both be posted later today on my blog. I'll also link to the transcripts in my episodes masterpost, which you can bookmark if you want to avoid spoilers! I will also tag any gifs or pictures I reblog with the tag #eaglesspoilers, so you can block the tag and any posts containing spoilers will be censored in your Tumblr feed. Tomorrow I will start subtitling the episodes and I'll update the episodes masterpost to let you guys know how much progress I've made. When the subtitled episodes are finished, they will replace the transcripts and be posted in the episodes masterpost! You can also follow me on my Twitter @eagles_transltd where I will notify you guys when transcripts and subtitled episodes are finished. If you have any questions, send them to me here (you can send in questions even if you don't have a Tumblr account)!

#eagles svt #svt eagles #this is a scheduled post! #it's still night in sweden but as soon as I get up the transcripts will be finished in a couple of hours 🙌

[1234-angelika]

Sugar Rush

an:Hey y'all! I'm really excited for this week, lot's of good content coming out. This is the second installment of the Happily Ever After series for David. As always, enjoy!

words:1.1k

warnings:none. If you see any please message me and I'll add it.

summary:"Baking and love go hand in hand, for as one bakes a tasty treat and fills the room with its sweet aroma, the true joy is to take what has been made and share it with another." -Heather Wolf

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

In the 5 months since the book signing, you and David had been texting back and forth. You were just slightly confused by the mixed signals you were getting from him. Or maybe, you were just misinterpreting them.

The shrill screech of your alarm brought you out of your peaceful sleep. It was so early, the sun hadn’t even come up. You began getting ready for the day, comfy clothes for your busy day ahead. Today was recipe testing day. You started with a cup of coffee and a brainstorming session on what you were going to make. An hour later, you started on the baking. Time quickly passed you by, and your dining room and some of the kitchen counters were covered in a countless variety of baked goods—all recipes for the upcoming book. By noon, you were covered in flour, and the kitchen was a disaster. You walked into the living room and took a seat on the couch, only meaning to take a break.

When you woke up again, the sun was setting, and there was some incessant knocking on your front door. You groaned and pushed yourself into a seated position, waiting for the blood rush to pass before you lifted your body off the couch and went to answer the door. With a huff, you swung the front door open, only to be greeted by the root of your confusion in person. The smile that previously occupied David’s face quickly morphed into something akin to a smirk, making amusement the only emotion you could read on his face.

“Bella! What happened to you? Did the flour attack you?”

A sheepish smile made its way onto your face, and with a shrug and a yawn, you answered, “Nope. Just testing new desserts for my next book.”

You moved out of the doorway and motioned for him to enter, no longer wanting to be in the cold. He stepped into your home with a smile. As he stepped in, you didn’t think to ask what had prompted his impromptu visit to your home; instead, an idea popped into your head.

“Do you want to come in and try them for me? Please? I need another opinion, at this point, they all taste the same to me.”

“Why not,” he answered.

You locked the door and led him to the kitchen through the winding corridors. As the pair of you stepped into the kitchen, a chuckle came from him.

“What?” You questioned.

“It looks like your baking supplies fought with you, and won!” He answered, still chuckling—a friendly grin on his face.

With a huff, you began to clean the kitchen, fully expecting him to sit down and taste some of your newest creations. Instead, when you turned to the sink, you found him putting on gloves and preparing to help you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, curious. You had had guests over before, and none of them ever offered to help you clean up.

“I’m going to help you. It’ll be done faster and then we can both enjoy your baking and chat.” He answered, smiling and then he gestured for the two of you to get started.

You began to clean like you were on fast-forward, energized by your accidental nap. Instead of the usual four hours, it took you to clean up after recipe testing, with David’s help, it only took an hour and a half. When all the cleaning was done, you made your way to the dining room, coffees in hand. As you both tested the pastries, light chatter filled the air, complementing the crunching and chewing. You were catching each other up on the day-to-day in your lives. When David finished his second coffee, he checked his watch and choked on the air.

“It’s already 2:30 in the morning!” He announced. You were shocked at how time had gotten away from the both of you.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry David, I know you have to go into the office tomorrow.” You said apologetically, hoping he wasn’t harbouring any ill-will toward you.

“Don’t worry about, I’ll just head out now.”

“No way! I’m not letting you drive when you’re this tired” As you said this, he let out a massive yawn, and a sheepish look made its way onto his face, “I have a guest room, you can stay in there.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose on your space….”

“I’m sure. It’s better not to risk it.”

“Okay. I’m just going to get my go-bag from my car.”

He walked out the front door, and you waited downstairs for him. When he came back in, you locked the door and then asked him to stay in the living room so you could get the room ready for him. Hurriedly, you walked up the stairs and made it into the room. You fluffed the duvet and plumped the pillows. You grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and placed it on the chair in the room. Grabbing some towels, in case he decided on a shower, you put them into the bathroom. You grabbed him from downstairs and lead him to the guest room, telling him where everything was. After dropping him outside the room, you continued down the hall to your own space when you heard your name. Turning around, you saw David in the doorway of the guest room.

“Yeah?”

“Since I’m spending the night at your place, I think I should at least take you to dinner.”

“Oh yeah? When?”

“I was hoping you were free on Friday.”

“Hmm… I’ll have to check my schedule,” you pulled out your phone and put the date into the calendar, and with a smile, you said, “Look at that! Looks like I’m free.”

“Okay, I’ll text you the information.”

“Good night David.” You said with a goofy grin, the high of being asked out by him rushing to your brain.

“Buona notte Y/N.” He responded before going back into the room and gently shutting the door behind him.

As you got ready for bed, you heard the tap for the shower creak on in the next room over. You continued with your usual nightly routine, making sure the doors and windows were locked, thermostat down and lights off before you got comfortable in your bed. An hour of Netflix later, you were ready to sleep. That night, you went to bed with a smile on your face, not for the usual reason; no, this was because of the man in your guest room. David Rossi.

taglist:@multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #david rossi #david rossi x reader #rossi x reader #happilyeverafter #hea

[stayinzencity]

POPULARITY???(teaser)

AND WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS POPULARITY??? masterpost

gender neutral! bisexual! reader insert

pairings: y/n x jungwoo, y/n x donghyuck, y/n x mark, y/n x jaemin, y/n x chaeyoung, y/n x ryujin

genre: humor, fluff, drama

au: highschool, loosely based off watashi ga motete dousunda (kiss him, not me)

warnings (teaser): y/n's hair is dyed and they wear contacts- that's the transformation

warnings (fic): mentions of BL & GL, shipping, fanservice, bisexuality & homosexuality, harem/reverse harem (will change later if necessary)

word count (teaser): 0.4k

taglist: @mother-hyucker @00solarsmiles @coco-riki (send an ask/message to be added)

note: it's going to deviate from the anime/manga/live action quite a bit. i'll definitely be toning down the shipping but it'll be there. chaeyoung (TWICE) and ryujin (ITZY) don't appear in this teaser, however they are main characters. also y/n might end up with one or none of them or something else might happen in the end. remember that this is fiction.

You were used to blending into the background. So it felt strange when people watch you walk through the halls with wide eyes and whispers. As you hurry to get to your classroom and away from all the eyes on you, you trip and stumble into someone, both of you falling to the floor.

"Purple?" The boy wheezes as he tries to catch his breath. The boy, who you recognize as the student council president, squints at you. "The school rules-"

"Ah! There you are!" You're pulled off Mark, who slowly sits up and blinks at the newcomer. "I was supposed to give the new kid a tour of the school but you know me." Donghyuck shrugs. "Anyway, come on! As fun as it can be, let's bother Mark some other time."

"Wait what?"

Donghyuck pulls you away, before Mark can say anything else. "Never mind our student council president, new kid. You don't have to thank me for rescuing you. Absolutely love the hair, by the way. I'm Lee Donghyuck, your b-"

"I know who you are," you interrupt him. This was getting ridiculous. All it took was hair dye and contacts to make everyone think you were a new person? "We've been in the same school since we were toddlers. I'm Y/N?"

"Oh? Oh. Oh! That's why you looked familiar!" Donghyuck grins. "With your hair purple and out of your face, I could barely tell it was you. And your-" He waves his hand over his own eyes and gestured to you. "What happened to you over break?"

You shrug. You'd lost a bet with your brother, but you weren't going to tell Donghyuck that.

Donghyuck was about to say something when Jaemin shows up.

He furrows his brows as he tries to place you. "Ah, nice to meet you? Are you new here?"

Donghyuck snickers, despite having came to the same conclusion himself a while ago.

"Y/N," a soft voice calls out. You turn around to find the History Club President behind you. "Good morning!"

Jaemin's jaw drops. "Y/N? No way!"

You're not sure if you should be offended or not, so you ignore him, and greet your senior instead. "Good morning, Jungwoo! We have a club meeting today, right?"

Jungwoo's gentle smile and nod seems the same as always, and the tension you've felt since morning fades a little.

© 2021, stayinzencity

#donghyuck x reader #jaemin x reader #jungwoo x reader #mark lee x reader #ryujin x reader #chaeyoung x reader #nct fanfic #nct ff #nct humor #nct fic #nct au #nct fluff #itzy fluff #twice fluff #itzy fanfic #twice fanfic #itzy au #twice au #nct high school au #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream fanfic #nct dream au #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 au #nct 127 fanfic

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[artistsfuneral]

Lambert/Ludwik (OC) cutagens, puppy kisses, fluff [masterpost]

---

During training Lambert is often paired up with Ludwik. The latter, being only two classes older than Lambert is the one closest to the youngest wolf regarding not only age but also skill. With the others having more experience worth decades, there's only so many times Lambert is willing to spar with them, before the frustration hits.

But even if they're technically on the same skill level there's still days when one easily overpowers the other. Today is one of those days. Lambert's insomnia has kept without any real sleep for three days now and yet he has been too pend up to nap with Nikolai or Kacper, finding himself in the courtyard with the others, sword in hand and more often than not on the ground, getting his ass kicked by Ludwik.

“No! Absolutely not, no, no! Get off me, Ludwik, I swear if you don't fuck off right now I'll- No!” There's a round of chuckles echoing through the courtyard, followed by a heavy sigh from Vesemir that is drowned by Lambert's yelping protests and pitiful whines. Ludwik, having won that round, has the brown haired witcher pinned to the ground, straddling his thighs and holding his arms down, while his face is hovering over Lambert's. Lambert kicks and and screams, turns and wiggles under the weight of the wolf, but Ludwik doesn't budge, only grins wider, canines showing and then he opens his mouth and his tongue rolls out and Lambert panics so hard he starts to beg for the other wolves to save him. No one does, too amused by the pups' antics.

Drool meets Lambert's cheek and he whines pitifully, knowing that he has lost that fight and that no one will come to help him. Ludwik, who has unlike Lambert absolutely no problem with behaving like a pup, cackles, before his tongue licks up his own spit and then starts to dart over Lambert's face, licking against his cheekbones and along the line of his beard, over his eyelids and over the bridge of his nose until Lambert is successfully cleaned and covered in Ludwik's smell.

Lambert whines and yips, pouts because he's being ignored by the others. He starts kicking his legs up again, when Ludwik licks against and into his mouth, shutting him up efficiently, knowing full well that Lambert is weak to his pack's kisses. Eventually he gives up, wraps his arms around Ludwik and kisses back, submits to the older wolf without any more fussing.

Then Ludwik lets off and starts to nibble on the underside of Lambert's chin and heat pools into his lower stomach and his whines get a whole other meaning. But before he can start rutting against his brother, Ludwik is pulled off of him by Remus and Vesemir's stern voice reminds him of the “not in the courtyard” rule. Lambert snarls in annoyance, because what else did he just submit for, but there's no arguing with the old swordmaster.

His older brother sends him a sheepish grin and holds out his hand to help Lambert up and the youngest wolf complies with a grumble. There's a promise of later, in the way he looks at Lambert and that's all he needs to pick up his sword again from where he dropped it and regain his fighting stance, mimicking Ludwik. He has a vague idea of what he'll do if he wins the next round and by the scent in the air and the look in Ludwik's eyes, the other wolf knows too.

@hailhailsatan @kuripon @kalikatze @whereiscarmensa @selectivegeekwithstandards @emotional-support-fandom @a-kind-of-merry-war @wolf-and-bard

tell me if u (don't) want to be tagged

#what me? i would never think about sloppy puppy kisses. no never. #the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #cutagens #wolf pack feels #kisses and cuddles #lambert #witcher lambert #the witcher fanfiction

[nonbinary-octopus]

SuperSides Chapter 2

Roman Catches a Borrower

Wordcount: 2.6K

Chapter 1: Prologue/Jamie Finds Evidence

[masterpost]

[More Stories]

~~~

Roman got home from rehearsal, tired and wanting to go to bed. He detoured through the kitchen first, though, remembering the plate of cookies his roommate had said to help himself to. But when he got to the kitchen, Roman stopped short at what he saw. Two tiny figures, carrying a cookie between them, stood on the counter. They stared back at him for a second. Then the one in the front hissed something at the other, which Roman couldn't quite make out, and they pitched the cookie to the side and started running.

Roman darted forward a second later. The borrower in back quickly outstripped the other, and was nearly at the wall when Roman reached the counter. An instant later, he'd scrambled over the back of the stove and vanished. Roman grabbed at the other borrower, and was surprised that he actually managed to snag him. Roman pulled away from the counter, opening his hands just a little so he could peek inside. He half expected to find something else trapped in his fist, but there he was. A tiny man lay on Roman's palm, looking back up at Roman with wide eyes.

"A borrower," Roman whispered in wonder, and the little man flinched. Roman glanced back at the cookie on the counter. "And you were borrowing a cookie," he said, picking it up.

The borrower's eyes flicked back and forth between Roman's face and his currently cookie-occupied hand. Then he surged upward, scrambling over Roman's thumb. With a yelp, Roman dropped the cookie and snatched at him, barely managing to catch the borrower by his leg before he could land on the counter. For a moment he was frozen as the borrower squirmed in his grip, flailing around upside-down but oddly silent. Then Roman got him back into his hands, curling his fingers more firmly around him. The borrower scrabbled at Roman's fingers, but Roman closed his fist firmly around the little guy's torso and gave him a stern, "no escaping" look.

The borrower fell still, though Roman could feel a rapid, frightened heartbeat against his fingers. He could not, he noticed, feel the borrower breathing. Roman loosened his grip a bit. Picking the cookie up again, he glanced back at the stove. The other borrower was probably long gone by now. Roman left the kitchen with his captive, heading for his room.

Roman closed his bedroom door behind him and sat down on his bed. He lifted the borrower up to his face, and the tiny man started to squirm again, looking terrified. Roman felt a little bit bad for basically kidnapping him. "I won't hurt you," he tried to assure him, but the glare the borrower gave him made it clear he thought it was an empty promise, or at least worthless coming from someone who was actively holding him captive. Roman sighed.

"I'll let you go," he said. "Just… not yet."

He got a similar look for that promise, and Roman looked away, feeling guiltier. The borrower started to squirm in his grasp again. Roman didn't really blame him. He was trapped in a fist from the chest down, and even his strongest efforts weren't enough to budge Roman's fingers. Roman loosened his grip a bit, giving him some more room. Obviously it wasn't enough, because the borrower continued to scrabble in Roman's fist, trying to get out.

"I'll… I can hold you in an open hand instead," Roman offered. The borrower paused in his struggles for a moment to look up at him calculatingly. Then he nodded. "Only," Roman added, "I don't… you have to promise not to jump off again." The tiny man responded with a scowl, and Roman rushed on. "I'm sorry, I know, you don't want to stay. But I promise, I will let you go. Today, even. Just, please, don't run off on me yet?"

The borrower grimaced, and Roman realized suddenly that his grip had tightened again while he anxiously explained himself. Quickly, he loosened it again. The borrower, looking pained, pushed at Roman's fingers to get him to loosen his fist even further.

"Please?" Roman begged.

The borrower glared at him. Then, grimacing still, he nodded. Roman loosened his grip and set the borrower on his other hand, which he held open.

"Better?" he asked hopefully.

The borrower slowly nodded. Then he winced, putting a hand on his side.

Concerned, Roman lifted the borrower closer to his face, earning himself a flinch and a flail as the little guy fell over in his hand to get away. "Sorry," Roman said, not sure which thing he was apologizing for. Maybe all of them. "I… I didn't mean to…" He swallowed, hard. "I hurt you. Didn't I?"

The borrower didn't answer, just curling in on himself in Roman's hand. Roman felt even guiltier. He'd promised not to hurt the little guy, but he'd already done it by accident.

"How… how bad is it?" he dared to ask. The borrower groaned, the first sound Roman had heard out of him since before he'd even touched him. "Let me see," Roman requested, but the borrower just curled into a tighter ball.

Roman used a finger from his free hand to roll the borrower onto his back. The borrower flailed again, and his eyes, which had been shut a second before, flew open. He lay in Roman's hand, staring up at him with something like terror.

"Let me see," Roman said again, hoping that he sounded both kind and firm. He didn't know how well he did, but the borrower slowly obeyed, uncurling to expose his stomach and chest.

Roman moved to lift the tiny shirt, and the borrower flinched, looking away. Roman froze, fingers still inches away from the tiny form. "I need you to lift your shirt," he said instead.

This wasn't much better in terms of how frightened the borrower looked, but at least the tiny man obeyed, gripping the hem of his shirt with trembling hands and pulling it up to reveal a thin torso with finger shaped bruises already forming.

Roman hissed sympathetically through his teeth. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. Then he frowned, noticing something. The borrower, shaking from head to toe, wasn't breathing.

"Hey. Breathe," Roman said. The borrower flinched at his voice, and then took in a shaky breath. He immediately cried out in pain, and Roman winced. "I'm sorry, I'm sure breathing hurts, but you gotta keep doing it."

The borrower looked up at him with tears in his eyes, but he kept breathing, if shakily and shallowly.

Roman got back up, and the borrower in his hand shook. "You can put your shirt back, for now," Roman said, trying to sound as gentle as he could. The tiny man pulled it down. Roman felt really bad about injuring him, but he was going to do his best to make it right.

Carrying the trembling borrower, Roman left his room and, with a glance to make sure Jamie wasn't around to see them (even though he was sure ey wasn't even in the house), ducked into the bathroom right across the hall and shut the door behind him. He set the little man down on the counter, where he glanced around. "Please don't run," Roman said, and the borrower stiffened again. Slowly, keeping his frightened gaze on Roman, the little man sat down on the counter as if to say, "Look, I'm not running. Not even thinking about running."

He obviously was worried about what Roman would do to him if he disobeyed. Roman's guilty feelings increased. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet instead of looking at the borrower anymore. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. But as Roman unscrewed the lid from the little silver tube, he hesitated. "I'm… going to have to ask you to take your shirt off," he said at last. The borrower gave him a pleading glance, but moved to do as Roman said. Soon, he was shivering in the open air. And not breathing, again, Roman noted with a frown.

"I know it hurts to breathe," he said gently, squeezing a dollop of clear goo out of the tube onto his finger. "And I'm sorry I have to ask you to do something that hurts. But you gotta keep breathing, buddy."

The borrower's shaking increased, but he started breathing again. Roman lowered his finger in front of him.

"Here," he said. "It's arnica gel." The borrower looked at it in confusion, and Roman added, "It'll help your bruises heal faster. Take some."

Shakily, the borrower scooped up a handful of the gel. It wasn't even a third of the dollop, and Roman realized that he might have squeezed out too much. Looking up at Roman, the borrower lifted the gel to his mouth.

"No!" They were both startled with the sharpness of Roman's exclamation. The borrower flinched, and then curled into a fetal position, protecting his head and neck with his arms like he expected Roman to crush him with a blow. Roman let out a tense breath. "You don't eat it," he said, more gently. "It's poisonous. You rub it on the bruises."

Slowly, the borrower uncurled. The gel he'd taken had gotten lost somewhere when he flinched, and Roman wordlessly offered him some more. The borrower took another handful, and tentatively spread it on one of the fresh bruises covering his chest. He winced, and Roman apologized again,

"I'm sorry, it's cold, I know. But it will help."

He leaned over and glanced at the borrower's back. It wasn't as bruised as his front, but Roman still worried that the little guy wasn't going to be able to reach the bruises that were there.

"Look… I know I'm the last person you want help from right now," he said, and the borrower looked up at him for a moment before going back to spreading arnica gel over his bruises. Roman continued, "But I'm not sure you'll be able to reach the bruises on your back. So I'll put the gel on them." The borrower visibly stiffened. It was painfully obvious how little he wanted Roman to touch him. Roman felt like the guilt would swallow him whole. He tried to assuage it with the fact that he was trying to make things better, but that didn't work very well.

The borrower didn't tell him no, but by this point Roman was pretty sure that he'd accidentally crushed any thoughts of rebellion out of the little guy.

"I'll be gentle." The promise felt bitter in his mouth. Hadn't Roman also promised not to hurt the borrower at all, just before almost squeezing the life out of him? Roman bit his lip, deciding to just do it. He leaned over the frightened borrower again and touched the gel on his finger to the bruises forming on his back. The borrower flinched at the first touch, but continued to rub the gel on his chest while Roman rubbed it into his back. He was holding his breath again, Roman noticed, but he didn't scold him this time. For one thing, he was holding his own breath to better concentrate on his task. As carefully and delicately as he could, Roman massaged the clear gel into each of the borrower's bruises.

Finally, he finished. Roman pulled away, letting out the breath he'd been holding. "I'm done," he promised, crouching in front of the counter. "How are you coming along?"

The borrower looked up for a moment, and then gestured to his bruises. Most of them had a thin coating, and he was finishing up on the last one.

Roman hesitated, wondering how to break it to him. "You have to rub it in," he said at last. "So your skin will absorb it."

The borrower glanced up again. Then he sighed and nodded, going back over the bruises and rubbing the gel in. Finally, he was done.

Roman was going to ask if he felt any better, but he had a feeling that the borrower would answer in the affirmative, whether or not it was true, in an attempt to appease him. So instead Roman just said, "Good job. You can put your shirt back on now."

Shivering, the borrower did so. Roman offered him a smile, but it felt fake, even to him. He looked away, putting the arnica back in the cabinet. Regretting the terrible first impression he'd made, Roman put his hand on the counter next to the borrower. "I won't even grab you this time," he said.

Getting onto Roman's hand seemed to be the thing the borrower wanted to do least in the world, but he forced himself to do it anyway. He sat in the middle of Roman's palm, stiff and shaking. Roman eyed him, and saw that the steady rise and fall that his chest should be doing was once again paused.

"Breathe," he reminded him. The borrower, cringing, obeyed, taking a deep breath that Roman could tell hurt him. "It can be little breaths," Roman said. "I just don't want you to pass out on me."

The borrower relaxed a little, but not much. Roman carried him back to his bedroom and sat down on his bed again. Where had he put that cookie? It might make a good peace offering. Ah! There it was, on Roman's pillow.

Roman lowered his hand to the blanket. "You can get off," he said, feeling his gut twist with the realization that without express permission, the borrower would probably remain in Roman's hand for fear that Roman wanted him to stay and would punish him for moving. He would have added, "but you don't have to if you'd rather not," but he was absolutely sure that the borrower didn't want to stay in his grip a second longer than he had to.

The borrower quickly scrambled off Roman's hand and sat down on the blanket instead, a few paces off (but still within easy arm's reach).

Roman picked the cookie up, breaking it in half. He set one half in front of the borrower. "You don't have to eat it if you don't want to," he assured the little guy. "But you may."

The borrower answered by breaking off a crumb and nibbling on it. Roman grinned in relief, taking a bite out of his half. For a moment, they sat in silence, just eating cookie together.

"My name's Roman," Roman blurted suddenly. Too suddenly, he realized, seeing the borrower flinch. He'd startled him. In a softer voice, Roman asked, "What's your name?"

The borrower relaxed, just a little. He said something, but it was too quiet for Roman to make out.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," Roman said, leaning closer. "Could you say it again?"

"Logan!" the borrower said, louder. Roman pulled away.

"Nice to meet you, Logan," he said, before realizing that that social script really didn't fit the situation. "Er. I mean." He sighed. "I know it wasn't nice to meet me. I'm sorry."

The borrower didn't answer.

Roman sighed again. "Look, Logan," he started, but he was interrupted by a knock on his door. He jolted, looking over at it. "That's my housemate," he said. He didn't want to expose Logan to more humans just yet, not after the bad experience he'd just given the poor guy. "I'll… I'll be right back," Roman said, getting up. "Um. Sorry. Again."

Roman grabbed his pillow, moving it to block the view of the borrower from the door. Jamie knocked again, and Roman went to answer the door.

~~~~~

Chapter 3: Angst Redux

~~~~~

Taglist:

@justanotherpurplebutterfly @panic-at-the-everything27 @tiny-enby @aroundofapplesauce @cricks-loves-you @yourfreindlyneighborhoodnerd @ifirestone @nonasficcollection @battleblaze @athenashipsthings @darkle-elkrad @fioxypurr @kitkat-kiwikat @smolkuriboh27 @inthemusicbox @unicornlogansanders

#original #my writing #sanders sides #my Sanders Sides writing #the supers story #SuperSides #Roman really messed up but at least he feels guilty #on Monday we get a chapter from Logan's perspective

[nonbinary-octopus]

SuperSides Chapter 3

Angst Redux

Wordcount: 4.3K

Chapter 1: Prologue/Jamie Finds Evidence

[masterpost]

[More Stories]

It was just supposed to be a regular borrowing trip. One of the humans, Roman, was at something called “rehearsal,” which meant something about being a different person for a while, but mostly meant that he’d be out of the house for several hours. The other human, Jamie, was also out, nobody was quite sure where, but ey had a habit of talking to eirself out loud and mentioned when ey left that ey wouldn’t be back til late.

Which meant that it should have been optimal borrowing conditions. Patton stayed home, and Logan and Virgil went out. The first several parts of their trip went just fine. They’d found just about everything they’d gone out for. Then Virgil had suggested they borrow one of the cookies Jamie had baked yesterday. Patton loved cookies, and Jamie had told Roman to help himself to as many as he wanted, which meant that if the borrowers took one, each of the humans would assume the other ate it, if they even noticed its absence. Best of all, the cookies had been left on a plate in the kitchen, uncovered. It was perfect.

The two borrowers went through their passageways in the walls until they came to the opening behind the oven. Slipping through, they began the ascent. All three borrowers had been somewhat concerned in the past about the potential dangers of leaving climbing ropes attached, but humans were extremely unlikely to move the large appliance, and there was no denying that being able to climb up without having to take the time to attach a rope was invaluable. Add to that the fact that instead of a rope they’d secured a long light-pull chain, which would last longer before wearing out and also provided better hand- and foot- holds for climbing, while still being able to be slid down in a hurry, and this was easily one of the best customizations they had made to the building.

Logan peeked out above the back of the stovetop first. Even though they were sure that the house was empty, he scanned the room for humans and listened intently. When he was sure it was clear, he climbed up on top. As Virgil climbed up beside him, Logan climbed down to the backboard that ran along the wall behind the counters. If not for this board, they would have needed a rope or a boost to get up again, but the board provided a convenient middle step. Logan dropped carefully down to the counter. Virgil echoed his movements to get onto the backboard, but for the last step (the further drop), Logan offered his younger brother a hand to get down, and Virgil gratefully accepted the assistance.

There was their prize. Just on the other end of the counter, next to the fridge, sat the plate of cookies. The two borrowers trekked over. Though Virgil could easily have made it to the plate in half the time, he stuck with Logan the entire way over. Then, when they got there, he hopped up onto the plate, grabbed a cookie that was half as wide across as he was tall, and dragged it back to Logan.

One of them could have carried it alone, with effort, but they had decided to share the burden. That was why there were two of them, after all. Two borrowers together could easily carry more than two borrowers alone. Logan picked up the other end of the cookie. Hoisting their prize up, the borrowers headed back toward their entrance. Logan was in the front, because they both knew that, if worst came to worst and they had to escape a human, Logan would need more of a head start than Virgil. Not that they were sure that Logan could actually beat a human to the stove, while Virgil had a fair chance of it, but any head start could make the difference between safety and capture.

When they were halfway back, the worst thing that could have happened did happen. Roman entered the room, turning the light on. There was no doubt. He saw them. “Virgil!” Logan hissed. “Run!” He took his own advice, dropping the cookie and darting off for the exit as fast as he could. Behind him, he heard the cookie drop onto the counter, and a second later, Virgil passed him, pelting as hard as he could for the exit. To the side, there were thunderous footsteps as the human rushed toward them. Logan had hardly crossed half the remaining distance when Virgil got to the wall and the human got to the counter. A huge hand swept toward him, and the last thing Logan saw before fingers filled his vision and he was swept off his feet was Virgil scrambling up the baseboard and dropping behind the stove. At least he’s safe, Logan thought, but it was small comfort. He was caught. In a human’s hand. He wasn’t sure if the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach was from terror or being moved around so quickly.

The fingers opened, and Logan found himself on his back, looking up at the last thing he’d wanted to see, ever: a human, looking right back at him. “A borrower,” the human said, and Logan flinched. The human even knew what he was. The human looked away from him for a moment, and Logan realized that he’d stopped breathing. Before he could decide to start again, though, the human added, “And you were borrowing a cookie.”

If Logan had been breathing, his breath would have caught in his throat. The human didn’t sound upset, yet. But he couldn’t risk waiting for that to happen. The human had picked up the cookie, and Logan glanced up at him, trying to gauge how much of his attention it had captured. It would have to be enough. Logan burst up out of the human’s hand, scrambling over his thumb. There was a yell, and the surface under him moved. Logan slipped, and instead of falling feet-first as he had planned, he found himself hurtling headfirst toward the unforgivingly hard counter. Just before he was sure he was going to crack his head open on the stone, his fall stopped. He dangled by one leg. Logan flailed in surprise, confused. Then he saw what had stopped his fall, and confusion shifted to terror. The human had his leg pinched between two fingers. And he didn’t look pleased.

The human hauled Logan up, and before he even had a chance to squirm, he was surrounded by huge fingers again. They closed tightly around him, and Logan thanked his luck that he didn’t need to breathe, because the fingers pressed hard enough on his chest that he wouldn’t have been able to draw a breath if his life depended on it.

The human scowled down at him, and Logan fell still, terror running down his spine and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. Then the human’s grasp on him loosened, just slightly. Logan’s chest ached.

Without a word, the human left the kitchen. Going who knows where, to do who knows what to him. Logan’s only comfort was the knowledge that Virgil had escaped his fate. He doubted he’d ever see either of his brothers again, but at least they were safe. For now, at least. They’d have to lay low, and probably move.

He hoped Patton wouldn’t take it too hard when Virgil told him he was dead. And, Logan added, he hoped Virgil wouldn’t blame himself. Sure, it had been Virgil’s idea to get the cookie, but Logan had agreed, and he was the eldest. It wasn’t Virgil’s fault. If it was anyone’s fault (besides the human’s, whose fault it definitely would be), it was Logan’s.

It turned out the human was going to his room. He closed the door behind him and sat down on his bed, lifting Logan up to his face. Logan gulped. He couldn’t help squirming again.

“I won’t hurt you,” the human said. Logan thought a bad word at him. As if he’d believe such a lie. The human had already hurt him. “I’ll let you go,” the human continued. More lies. “Just… not yet.” That Logan could believe. He wouldn’t be released yet. But yet would just be stretched on further and further… until the human tired of him and crushed him.

Logan knew that it was pointless to struggle, but he did anyway. Just as he expected, the human’s hand held firm. Logan would have needed the strength of ten borrowers, at least, to budge even one finger. Then they all loosened, suddenly. Logan held no illusions about what had happened. He had more space only because the human had given it to him, and not because of any of his efforts. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from continuing to struggle.

“I'll… I can hold you in an open hand instead,” the human said suddenly, startling Logan so much that he was still. He looked up at the human, waiting. The human seemed to be waiting too. Did he want Logan to confirm that he wanted that? Logan nodded at him. That seemed to be what the human was waiting for, because he continued talking. “Only, I don't… you have to promise not to jump off again.”

Logan scowled at the thought. Promise not to try to escape his captor? Fat chance! Suddenly, he felt the human’s grip tighten around him again. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to stay,” the human taunted. “But I promise, I will let you go.” Lies. “Today, even.” Further lies! “Just, please, don’t run off on me yet?”

Even if he had wanted to answer aloud, Logan couldn’t. He might not need breath to survive, but he needed it to speak. Suddenly, the human’s tight grip around him loosened again, though Logan was still held in a fist. He pushed at the human’s fingers in a panic, knowing he couldn’t make them move, but also knowing that he couldn’t stop himself from trying.

“Please?” the human said.

Logan looked up at him, hating the man. But he was smart enough to know that the human literally held his life in his gigantic hands, and he realized that he had to do whatever he could to appease him. He swallowed his pride and nodded. A promise not to run away wasn’t so big a price if it meant the human would stop crushing him. Especially since Logan couldn’t reasonably be expected to keep such a promise, made under duress and likely to cost him his life if he saw an opportunity to break it and chose not to. It would hardly be a mark against his honor, and even if it was, honor was no use if you were dead.

The human actually let Logan out of his fist. He was set onto an open hand, of course, so it wasn’t much of an improvement, but at least he wasn’t being crushed.

“Better?” the human asked.

Logan nodded, trying a breath. His ribs immediately felt like they were made of fire, and Logan winced, putting a hand against his side. No breathing, then. Once again, Logan was grateful that he didn’t have to. His power had never seemed so useful. Logan internally apologized for calling it pointless before.

Suddenly, the surface under him surged upward, and Logan’s vision was filled with a giant face, way too close. He flailed, trying to back away, and only fell over.

“Sorry,” the human said, his voice ringing in Logan’s ears. “I… I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, and Logan wondered bitterly what the human hadn’t meant to do. Knock him over, maybe. “I hurt you,” the human said then. Logan couldn’t make out his tone through the pain, but he imagined that the human was gloating. “Didn’t I?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response. He curled around himself on his side, trying to soothe the terrible pain.

“How… how bad is it?” the human asked. Logan could only groan. Then the human added, “Let me see.”

Logan wouldn’t let him gloat over the damage he’d caused. He curled tighter, trying to protect his vulnerable parts. Then a huge finger nudged him from the side, rolling him effortlessly onto his back. Logan’s limbs flailed, and his eyes snapped open, staring up at the human in a panic.

“Let me see,” the human demanded, and Logan felt his blood run cold. If he didn’t do what the human said now, he feared, his life expectancy could be counted in seconds. Although it was the last thing he wanted to do, Logan uncurled, exposing himself. The human reached for him with his other hand. Logan managed to force himself to stay spread out, but he turned his head away, not wanting to see what new torture was planned. To his surprise, the human didn’t touch him. But he issued a command. “I need you to lift your shirt.”

Logan didn’t want to find out what would happen if he disobeyed. He pulled up the edge of his shirt, exposing himself even more. He heard the human hiss above him, and wondered what the sound could mean.

“I’m so sorry,” the human said. Logan couldn’t believe him. He peeked out from under his shirt. The human was frowning, and Logan shuddered. “Hey,” the human said, terrifyingly commanding. “Breathe.”

Logan didn’t dare disobey. He took a breath. It hurt worse than before, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying out.

“I’m sorry,” the human said again, as though Logan would believe him this time. “I’m sure breathing hurts, but you gotta keep doing it.”

It was torture. But the human would surely find a worse way to torture him if Logan refused. He took another breath, shaking at the agony it caused. And another, and another.

Suddenly, the human stood. “You can put your shirt back, for now,” he said. For once, Logan was relieved to obey, covering himself up again. With Logan still lying in his palm, the human moved. Their surroundings passed in a blur, and Logan didn’t know where he was until the human set him on his feet on something smooth and white. Logan looked around, finally recognizing the room. They were in the bathroom, and he was standing on the counter next to the sink. “Please don’t run,” the human said, a clear order despite the “please.”

Logan knew that he had no chance of escaping if he did try to run, and he didn’t want the human to think he was making an escape attempt and punish him for it. He sat down on the counter, trying to make it clear that he wasn’t going to run.

The human opened the mirrored cabinet over Logan’s head, looking for something. When he drew his hand out again, he had a silvery tube in it, which he opened. Then the human looked back at him. “I'm… going to have to ask you to take your shirt off,” the human said. Logan looked pleadingly up at him, but he knew better than to refuse. He took his shirt off, shivering. Why did the human want him to undress? To show off his injuries, or to humiliate him further? Perhaps both. At least he was permitted to keep his pants on. So far, anyway.

Logan glanced up at the human, only to find him frowning again. “I know it hurts to breathe,” the human said, and Logan winced. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped again, but the human had noticed. “And I’m sorry I have to ask you to do something that hurts.” Lies. That’s why you’re making me do it. “But you gotta keep breathing, buddy.”

The human was really insistent on this point. Logan took another shuddering breath. It hurt, so so much, but he forced himself to keep going anyway. The human’s finger lowered into view in front of him. There was some sort of clear goop on it.

“Here,” the human said. “It’s arnica gel.” Logan had no idea what that meant, and the human continued. “It’ll help your bruises heal faster. Take some.”

Logan considered the gel. Perhaps the human was lying and it would hurt him, or he was telling the truth but going to yank the gel away when Logan reached for it, to taunt him. If, on the other hand, he was telling the truth and wanted Logan to heal up, then surely it was so that he would be well enough to punish more later. Logan hated all of those possibilities. Still, he couldn’t disobey. He took as much of the gel as he could in one hand. He looked up at the human again. The gel didn’t look good, but he had to do what he was told. Logan gulped, and then lifted the gel to his lips. Before he had tasted it, though, the human bellowed,

“No!”

Logan cowered. He was in for it now. He’d angered the human, though he wasn’t sure how, and he was going to pay the price. Logan hunkered down, covering his head and neck as though it would do anything to stop the human from destroying him. Above him, he heard the human let out an irritated breath.

“You don’t eat it,” the human scolded him, as though Logan ought to have known that. “It’s poisonous.” Enough to kill? Logan wondered, or just to hurt a lot? “You rub it on the bruises.” Logan waited anxiously for his punishment, but it didn’t come.

Slowly, Logan uncurled from his protective position. He wasn’t sure what had happened to the gel he’d taken earlier, but his hand was empty. The human offered him his fingerful again, and Logan scooped up some more. With a gulp, he touched it to his bruise, flinching in anticipation.

“I’m sorry, it’s cold, I know,” the human said. Logan hadn’t even noticed. “But it will help.” Logan didn’t know if that was true, but he did know that he didn’t dare find out what would happen if he refused to use it. He started to spread it along the first angry bruise forming where the human had squeezed him. The human leaned over him, and Logan had to force himself to keep going, even when he felt warm breath hit his back. “Look,” the human said. “I know I’m the last person you want help from right now.” For once, a truth. Logan glanced up at him for a moment before returning to the task he’d been given. At least it helped keep his mind off his fate, if only a little. The human kept talking. “But I’m not sure you’ll be able to reach the bruises on your back. So I’ll put the gel on them.”

Logan thought for a moment that his heart stopped beating, and he realized that he’d stopped breathing again, probably when the human had yelled at him, because if he still had been breathing, he would have stopped just then. He hoped the human wouldn’t notice.

“I’ll be gentle,” the human said. Logan didn’t believe him for a second. Then the human leaned over him again. Logan tried not to flinch away as one huge finger pressed into his back, but he couldn’t help it. Luckily, the human didn’t seem to notice, just rubbed the gel around on Logan’s bare back. Logan forced himself to continue applying it to his front with shaking hands.

After what felt like an eternity, the human pulled away, crouching in front of Logan instead. “I’m done,” he said. “How are you coming along?”

Logan pulled his hand away so that the human could see. He’d obediently spread the arnica gel over all his bruises, and now, just running out of gel, he covered the last one. But the human wasn’t satisfied.

“You have to rub it in, so your skin can absorb it,” he said.

Logan looked up at him, feeling tears prick in the corners of his eyes. Of course there had to be more to it, something that he’d missed. He sighed (which hurt) and nodded to acknowledge that he’d heard the order. Going back to the first bruise, Logan rubbed the gel into his skin, which did in fact absorb it. Instead of being slimy, he was now slightly sticky.

The human watched him the entire time. When Logan had finished, the human looked at him for several moments longer, and then said, “Good job.” Logan’s shoulders slumped in relief. He had passed. “You can put your shirt back on now.” It was a small reward for the agony he’d gone through, but Logan was grateful even for small indications of favor by this point.

The human put the gel back away, and then lowered his hand, palm up, next to Logan, who stared at it in horror. “I won’t even grab you this time,” the human said, as though that was a big favor. Logan supposed that it was, in this context. He didn’t want the human to change his mind, so he steeled himself and climbed into his hand, sitting stiffly in the center of the human’s palm. It was the worst thing he’d ever had to do.

The seconds stretched out with the human’s hand still resting on the counter. Logan wondered what he was waiting for. Then the human spoke.

“Breathe.”

Logan flinched, worrying. The human had caught him not breathing several times now. What if he decided to punish him? Logan’s mind whirled with possibilities. He could be crushed, or dropped onto the hard tile floor. Or perhaps the human would take advantage of their current location and flush him down the toilet. At least he wouldn’t drown, Logan thought darkly. He took a deep, showy breath to appease the human. It was agony.

“It can be little breaths,” the human said, and Logan gratefully took a smaller breath that only hurt a little. “I just don’t want you to pass out on me.”

Right, Logan thought bitterly. Wouldn’t want your new toy to lose consciousness on you. It’s no fun to torture it if it can’t respond.

Then they were on the move again. Just like before, it was all a blur around Logan as the human carted him away. Logan noticed absently that his bruises were aching a bit less. It seemed that arnica stuff really did what  the human said it did. That was a bit of a relief, though Logan winced to realize that he was probably being healed up to be tormented more later.

When the human finally stopped, Logan looked around. They were back in his captor’s room, and the human sat down on his bed, lowering Logan to the mattress beside him. Logan gulped. It was the most intimidating angle he’d seen the man from yet. It could probably only be surpassed by the sight of him from the floor, which Logan desperately hoped he would not see.

“You can get off,” the human said, and Logan realized that he had been just sitting on his hand on the mattress, lost in his thoughts. It hadn’t seemed like very long, but he might’ve lost track of time. He scrambled off onto the blanket-covered bed as quickly as he could. Logan took as many steps away as he dared before sitting down.

The human reached over his head, and Logan ducked, even though the huge hand’s trajectory was clearly toward the even huger pillows at the end of the bed. It returned clutching a cookie. The very same cookie, if Logan was right, that he and Virgil had failed to borrow. The human was probably going to taunt him with it.

To Logan’s surprise, the human broke the cookie in two, placing the slightly smaller half in front of him. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to. But you may,” the human said. Logan hesitated. What did the human want him to do? It was unclear. Logan decided to eat at least a little bit of the cookie. Despite his assurance to the contrary, Logan felt sure that the human would be upset if Logan ignored the food before him. Besides, he was hungry.

Logan broke off a more manageable chunk of cookie, though it was still bigger than his fist, and started to eat it, cautiously watching the human. His captor, meanwhile, bit off over a third of the piece he held at once. Logan looked away.

For some time, there was no sound but their munching. Logan’s was much quieter, of course, and he wondered briefly if the human could even hear it. Suddenly, the human spoke, startling him.

“My name’s Roman.” Logan knew that already, and honestly, he didn’t care. “What’s your name?”

He had no choice but to answer. “Logan,” he said, but his voice was weak.

The human leaned down toward him, and Logan flinched. “Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” the human said. “Could you say it again?”

“Logan!” Logan said, as loud as he could.

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” the human said. I bet it was, Logan thought darkly, frowning down into the bit of cookie he held. The human had gotten a new plaything, of course he was pleased to meet — and capture — Logan. The human continued. “Er. I mean. I know it wasn’t nice to meet me.” Astute, Logan thought sarcastically. “I’m sorry.” Lies.

“Look, Logan,” the human said, and Logan cringed, waiting for a scolding or a punishment. But instead, the human was interrupted by a loud banging sound. “That’s my housemate. I'll… I’ll be right back,” he said, and Logan felt a chill run down his spine. In a moment, there would be two humans poking at him. The ground moved under him as the human got up. “Um,” he said. “Sorry. Again.”

Logan hardly had time to wonder what the human was pretending to apologize for this time before he was hedged in by a huge white wall. A pillow, he realized, which was now an impassable barrier.

The banging came again, and Logan curled up in his new prison as the human strode away, dreading what would happen next.

~~~~~

Chapter 4: Confrontation

~~~~~

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